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thesparkling-diamond27 · 23 days ago

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Dancing Through Life

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

A/n: hi hi! I’m back with a Fiyero one shot, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about the second Bridgerton and I. I’ve written two chapters so far over thanksgiving break and I might try to squeeze in one more chapter or at least half of one before I go back to school. I don’t really have enough time to write when I am at school, so the next time I’ll probably get back to writing during Christmas break which is in a couple weeks. Then I’ll finish the Bridgerton and I and I’m thinking about waiting to finish the Bridgerton and I completely before posting any more chapters, so the ff will probably be finished in December. I wrote this one shot because Wicked has been on my mind 24/7 and I can write whatever comes to mind, but for the Bridgerton and I have to sit down and rewatch Bridgerton episodes so that I can make sure I get all the words exactly right. I hope you guys continue to be patient as I try to finish it :).

I have recently seen the movie Wicked and plan to see 10 million more times because it is SO GOOD. Wicked is basically my whole personality at this point. I was already obsessed with Fiyero, but Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero made my obsession worse (but in a good way :)). And with this obsession comes a Jonathan Bailey Fiyero Tigelaar one shot. I hope you enjoy!! I also have a plan to write another one so stay tuned for that!

It was a beautiful day today, so after class I decided to read at my favorite spot: the bench under the oak tree. I loved it here because it was a peaceful place where I never got disturbed. Or so I thought.

I realized he was near when I heard the sound of boots stepping onto grass. It was only when his shadow blocked the words on the page that I finally looked up.

Fiyero looked down on me with curious eyes, but there was still a charming smile plastered on his face. I tried to hide how his smile affected me, but he must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his smile turned into a smirk.

I thought after my cousin Galinda introduced him to my brother and I earlier today would be the last time I saw him for the day. It appears the Winkie prince had other plans.

“Well what is Miss Upland doing under the oak tree?” He asked.

“Reading.” I held up my book for effect before I continued back to where I left off.

I saw him take a seat beside me on the bench in the corner of my eye.

“It’s Friday.” He continued.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. I can read calendars.” Fiyero chuckled at my blunt and snippy responses. He could clearly tell that I was annoyed by his presence, but he continued to talk anyway.

“It’s Friday and you are here reading under an oak tree. You should be out there having fun.” He used his hands to gesture to all the other students hanging out at the courtyard.

“This is fun to me.”

“School work is fun?”

“Well for your information this book is not for school it’s for me.”

“Well I believe you are filling your head with too many things. You’re thinking too much.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well that’s not surprising coming from a prince like you.”

“A prince like me?” Fiyero gave a feigned pained expression. “I’m hurt that you would think that way about me.”

“Well I believe that you present yourself as self-absorbed and deeply shallow, but I don’t think you are. I think you use that as a front to hide the fact that you actually care and have thoughts.”

“Excuse me there’s no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

“Okay.” I said not believing him. I shut my book and stood from the bench. I finished the book I was reading and decided to go search for another one to read.

“Well I guess it was nice talking to you.”

I began to walk back to my room, but he blocked my path.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to find another book.”

“Oh come on. Drop the book for once and have some fun.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and walked away without looking back. I was hoping he would leave me alone after that, but luck was not on my side today.

“Since you’re going back to your room, maybe I can save you the trouble of carrying your book all the way back.”

He grabbed the book from my hand before I could say anything.

“Hey give that back!”

I tried to grab the book back, but he raised the book above my head, so that I couldn’t reach and jumping up was no use. Fiyero was laughing at me struggling, so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You can help me carry my singular book up to my room.”

Fiyero was happy with my response because he was smiling from ear to ear. We were now standing nose to nose and I could feel his breath fan across my face. If I looked down I would have perfect access to his lips. Wait what was I thinking? I quickly backed away from him before I did anything stupid. Fiyero smiled down at me and said, “See now that wasn’t so hard now was it? Lead the way princess.”

I would he lying if I said I didn’t get affected by his words. Butterflies filled my stomach and I probably would have melted if I didn’t catch myself. What is wrong with me?

“Princess?”

“Yes princess. It suits you. Princess of the Upper Upperlands.” He said with a dramatic voice.

I was about to retaliate when a certain blondey came to mind.

“Shouldn’t you be calling Galinda princess?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you two are a thing.”

Fiyero chuckled. “I just met her this morning and besides I’m like this with everyone.”

My heart sunk at his words. So he was just treating me like everyone else? But why was I so upset about it? Just a few hours ago I wanted nothing to do with him and now I was disappointed that he’s not treating me differently.

“And if I called her princess then I wouldn’t be able to call you princess. Princess.” He said with a wink.

That definitely lifted my spirits. Sweet Oz! He was making feel a roller coaster of emotions. I could tell there will never be a dull moment with him.

I gave him a small smile but I looked down on the floor to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to notice that I started to warm up to him, but he saw the slight upturn of my lips.

“Well who knew that Miss Upland could smile. It’s a miracle!”

“Oh shut up!” I said, but you could hear the grin in my voice.

“Besides reading, what do you really do for fun?” I looked up at Fiyero and could tell that he truly wanted to know my genuine answer. So it seems that my premonition about him not being self-absorbed and deeply shallow was true.

“Umm…spending time with friends, swimming. Oh there’s a lake in the Upper Upperlands that my family and I go to every summer to cool off and it has such beautiful scenery. Not to mention the nearby ice cream shop…”

I stopped after I realized that I blabbered on. “I’m sorry I sort of got carried away.”

I looked up at Fiyero, but he didn’t seem bothered at all with my tangent. He actually seemed rather interested with what I had to say.

“No continue.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“No I’d rather not.”

I know he wanted to hear more, but he didn’t push me, which I was glad for. I was a little embarrassed with my little outburst.

“Well how about you discover a new way to have fun?” Fiyero said changing the subject.

“How?”

“Come with me to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight. The most swankified place in town.”

“Aren’t we not supposed to be off campus after dark?”

“Yes, but not being allowed to leave after dark makes it more fun!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left her at home.”

Fiyero paused before he burst into laughter.

“My joke wasn’t that funny.” But I couldn’t help but laugh along with Fiyero.

Fiyero paused again.“Your laugh.”

I took a few moments to recompose myself before asking, “What about my laugh?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I stopped walking and choked on air.

“What?” I asked, but Fiyero ignored me.

“Which way is your room?”

I realized that we have reached the dead end which separated into two hallways.

“This way.” I said as I begin to walk to the right. I walked a little faster to make this walk shorter. I have embarrassed myself way too many times in a such a short amount of time and I just wanted to smash my pillow in my face and scream. The rest of the way was silent until we reached my door.

“Well here we are. My humble abode.” I said. “Thank you for the uh…walk.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope to see you tonight at the Ozdust ballroom Miss Upland.

“Y/n.”

Fiyero smiled at my response.

“Y/n. I hope to see you tonight.”

I opened the door and was about to walk in, but I turned around instead.

“I know you like to put on the facade that you are this Winkie prince who doesn’t have a care in the world, but you’re also human. Yes you might be self-absorbed and shallow, but that’s not all of you and you have thoughts that should be shared. If you take away your crowd of admirers you’ll be left with the real you. If you want to continue with this role in front of everyone then that’s fine…,but you don’t have to be that way with me.”

Fiyero’s expression was unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw flickers of fear and appreciation.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say.”

His hands fell to his sides and I realized that he still had my book. I slowly inched towards his hand and pulled the book from his grasp. But before I pulled away I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said with a smile.

He nodded and with one last squeeze I pulled away and slowly closed the door shut.

—————————

I laid in my bed, for what seemed like hours, contemplating whether I should go to the Ozdust ballroom or not. I turned to my night stand to see that it’s only been a half hour. I groaned in frustration and covered my face with my pillow. Then I heard a knock at the door. I rose from my bed and opened it to see my brother Ezra.

“You. Me. Ozdust. Tonight.” He said as he entered my room.

“You know about that too?” I said as I shut the door.

“How do you know about it?” He asked curiously.

“I was invited.” I said as I plopped onto my bed. Ezra raised an eyebrow at my words and joined me.

“You were invited?! I wasn’t even invited! Who invited you?”

“So how do you know about it?” I asked avoiding what he asked me.

“I overheard some students talking about it, but don’t avoid the question. Who invited you?”

“Fiyero.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

“Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country? But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! Where did you get that impression.”

“When Galinda introduced us to him you didn’t seem to be too pleased with him.”

I thought back to the first impression I had of Fiyero when I first met him.

When he first stood in front of me I took a good look at him and he was exactly what I expected from a Winkie prince. He was dressed to the nines from head to toe. You could tell his blue jacket and pants were made to perfection and the gold accents were sewn with precision. His black polished boots were so shiny that you could even see your own reflection in them. And that was just his clothes.

Fiyero had an aura about him. It was as if he believed he always had to be the center of attention. Reminds me of someone that I know, but I know that Galinda has a heart. It was too soon to tell if he genuinely cares, but by the way he acted and the way the students nearby looked at him, I could already tell that his way of life to everyone else was fake.

Then he approached me later on in the day and I got to know him a little more. I soon realized that he wasn’t all so bad by himself. It was only when he was around everyone else where his walls come up and he acts out his facade.

“I guess I had a change of heart.” I finally answered.

“Uh huh. And how did Fiyero even get the chance to talk to you. The only way that can happen is if you two hung out alone.” Ezra said teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed at his antics.

“Fiyero might have interrupted my peaceful reading time earlier today and I got to know him a little more.”

“Oh?!”

“And before you say anything else there was nothing else to it. He offered to walk me back to my room and that’s when he invited me to the Ozdust ballroom. On our walk back I got to know him a little better and he’s not so bad by himself.”

“Hmm hmm.”

“Nothing else happened!”

“Hey I said nothing!” Ezra said as he lifted his hands to the sides of his face in defense. “But this means that you’re coming!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Why-“

“But I didn’t say no either. I’m still thinking about my answer.”

Ezra looped his arm with mine.

“Now I’m forcing you to come because I’m coming and I’m not going to have you sit pathetically in your room.”

“I’m not going to—“

“Ah uh. I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. Your wardrobe is almost as grand and big as Galinda’s.”

Ezra did have a point. I worried about my appearance and wardrobe just as much as Galinda, but I didn’t flaunt it as much as my cousin did.

“Come on.” Ezra grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my bed. He led me to one of my luggage’s that turned into a closet with the push of a button. Ezra pushed the button and pushed me towards my array of dresses.

“Well go on.” He prompted.

I stumbled upon the rack and begin to flip through my choices until I came across a dress that brought a smile to my face.

—————————

Ezra and I missed the boat that Galinda and Fiyero went on, so we arrived at the Ozdust ballroom a little later. I peeked over the corner and was in awe with what I saw.

The entrance of the ballroom had a ginormous staircase which led to the dance floor. At the end of the room was where a band of animals were playing the music. On the ceiling schools of fish were dancing in formation to the beat of the music. That’s when I realized that this ballroom was underwater. That was something I’ve never seen before.

Ezra and I began to walk down the staircase and I began to notice a lot of familiar faces from school.

“Do people come here often?” I asked Ezra. He first attended Shiz last year, so he had a whole year of experience before I came along.

“I would say so. It’s where most people go over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone.”

I looked at him shocked. “Really?!”

“Yeah. I’ve never been invited and I’ve always wanted to go, but I never knew how to get here until I overheard those two girls talking today.”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed it is.” He said with a chuckle. “Oh I see some of my friends I invited over there. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah I will. Galinda should be around here somehere.”

“And Fiyero.” Ezra said with a glint of mischievousness.

“Yeah him too.”

Ezra laughed before he walked over to his two friends. Now I was left alone to fend for myself. I noticed a drink table on the side of the dance floor, so I made my way over there.

I had no idea what was in the glass, but it tasted quite good. I sipped quietly off to the side when I noticed a familiar figure approach me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Upland.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright then. Princess.”

“Y/n.” I corrected him

“Princess Y/n.”

I figured it would be pointless so I gave up trying to correct him.

“I was almost starting to think you weren’t going to show up. What made you change your mind? Me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Fiyero. My brother forced me to come.”

“Aww so I can’t go around telling people that you’re my date tonight?”

I nearly choked on my drink, but I managed to regain my composure.

“Not a chance.”

“What a shame and to think I was going to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say no to that.” I said with a teasing smile. Fiyero looked shocked and glad that I was finally playing his game.

“Since you say so, I’ll just take this.”

Fiyero grabbed the drink from my hand and downed the rest of it before setting it on the table.

“Shall we?” He extended out his hand for me to take. I didn’t say anything, but I accepted his hand and he led me to the dance floor.

He began to twirl and whirl me around to the beat of the music and I found a couple laughs slip from my mouth. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time and I couldn’t believe that Fiyero of all people was making that happen.

One by one Galinda, Ezra, and his friends joined us as well. It was great to not care about the trivial things in life and simply dance through life as Fiyero likes to put it.

At one point the band slowed down the tempo of the music to a slower one and Fiyero gave me a knowing look. I looked back at Ezra and he winked at me before walking off the dance floor with his friends. I turned back to Fiyero and grabbed his hand. He gave me a beaming smiling, put his hands on my hips and began to move me across the ballroom floor.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today.” He said.

“About?” But I had an inkling about what he was talking about.

“About me pretending in front of everyone else.” I simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I guess I started doing it in order to hide my true depth of character. It was a way for me navigate the superficial social circles and get the chance to meet powerful people. I’ve done it for so long that I forgot what it’s like to just be me, but you were the first person to ever see through that.”

I took a moment to take in his words. It must have been exhausting to keep up that facade for so long. I felt bad for Fiyero. The fact that he felt the need to live like that.

“Well like I said you don’t have to pretend with me. I want to know the real Fiyero Tigelaar. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“I can for you.”

Under normal circumstances I would have collapsed right then and there there, but that would do either of us no good. Fiyero had just finished telling me something he’s never spoken out loud before and I have to be the support he needs.

He twirled me around once more before pulling me right back into his arms. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered changing the subject.

“You look beautiful princess. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you tonight. I must say that blue is definitely your color. You are hands down the most beautiful one here.”

“I don’t think so.” I said as I looked down at the floor bashfully.

Fiyero grabbed my chin with his finger and brought my face up to look up at him.

“I beg to differ.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it back behind my ear. I felt his breath against my ear and shivers traveled down my spine. No boy has ever gave me as much attention as Fiyero has and I was at a loss with what to do. But in a strange way I knew exactly what to do, which is why I was bold enough to try something.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered in his ear.

Fiyero looked confused, but he nodded anyway. I stood up on my tiptoes and went up to his ear, but at the very last second I grabbed his face and connected his lips with mine.

At first he didn’t responded, and I got so scared I got the message wrong, so I almost pulled away. However, he soon reciprocated the kiss and placed one hand firmly on my waist and the other framing my face. The kiss started simple, but then it became more intense. I would have kept on going, but then I remembered where we were.

I pulled away and looked around to see my brother looking at me with a knowing look as if he was saying I told you so. He mouthed, “And you said there was nothing else to it.”

“Shut up.” I mouthed back.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else? Away from the public eye.” Fiyero asked.

I looked up at his blue eyes and thought about being alone with Fiyero. Being able to hold him and kiss him to my hearts desire. I nodded with a smile.

Fiyero smiled back and interlocked our hands. Together the both of us walked out of the Ozdust ballroom without a care in the world and we simply danced through life.

#wicked #fiyero tigelaar #fiyero tigelaar x reader #galinda upland #wicked galinda #wicked fiyero #wicked film #winkie prince #ozdust ballroom #dancing through life

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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Can you please create a story about Cregan catching a spy? that he had set a trap for his men She was going to kill them but Cregan stops her by saving them. Then when they wanted revenge, Cregan laughed at them because they fell silent in front of a girl. tried to convince her to join them

Fox in Wolves Den

- Summary: You were instructed by Larys Strong to spy the northerners, to thin their ranks. But today you faced the Warden of the North himself.

- Paring: reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top, and there is the link to the second one.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The dense fog of the Wolfswood clings to your skin like the cold mist of a graveyard, thick and suffocating. You crouch low behind the twisted roots of an ancient oak, your breath shallow as you wait. The trap is set. The Green council has long whispered of Lord Cregan Stark’s men growing too bold, venturing too far south, seeking alliances that could tip the balance of power. Larys Strong tasked you with thinning their ranks, and you have done so with ruthless precision. But tonight is different. Tonight, the Warden of the North himself rides with them.

Your fingers twitch against the hilt of your dagger, your eyes trained on the narrow path that cuts through the forest like a scar. The rustling of horses’ hooves and the clank of steel echo faintly in the distance, a slow rhythm that sends a chill of anticipation racing down your spine. You’ve watched them for days, learning their patterns, their weaknesses. Tonight, they’ll ride into an ambush—your ambush—and bleed out on the frozen ground.

As the first shadowy figure emerges through the mist, you make no sound. The men are oblivious, lulled into a false sense of security by the quiet of the forest. They don’t know this land the way you do, don’t feel the danger lurking in the air.

You flick your wrist, a signal to the men hiding deeper in the woods. A few heartbeats later, a harsh twang breaks the silence as arrows fly through the air, striking the first few riders. Chaos erupts. Screams, the frantic neighing of horses, and the sudden clash of steel ring out.

For a moment, you believe the night is yours. The soldiers stumble and fall, caught off guard, as your hired killers descend upon them. Your heart pounds in your chest, but it is not fear that quickens your pulse. It is triumph. The greens will be pleased.

But then, something shifts. From the midst of the chaos, a deep voice cuts through the din. “Hold your line!”

Cregan Stark.

The Lord of Winterfell rides forward, his massive form cutting through the fog like an ancient god of war. His grey eyes gleam under the moonlight as he shouts commands, rallying his men with a calm yet fierce authority. Your pulse quickens again��but this time, it's not from triumph.

The Northern soldiers regroup, forming a wall of shields as Cregan wades into the fray with his greatsword in hand. With a single swing, he cuts down two of your men as if they were nothing more than straw dummies. You clench your teeth, realizing too late that the Warden of the North is not just a name. He’s a force.

You slink deeper into the shadows, eyes fixed on the towering figure of Stark as he moves with a lethal grace. His men rally behind him, the trap that should have killed them now turning on you. The hired blades you brought fall one by one beneath Stark’s sword and the renewed ferocity of his soldiers.

And then—disaster. A branch snaps beneath your feet, loud enough to betray your position.

"Over there!" a Northern voice shouts.

You bolt, darting through the underbrush with a speed that has saved you more times than you can count. But the Northerners are hunters, and their lord is no fool. You hear the thud of hooves behind you, the sound of a rider closing in fast.

Before you can reach the safety of the trees, a rough hand catches the back of your cloak, yanking you off balance. You stumble, crashing to the ground, your breath knocked from your lungs. A shadow falls over you as Cregan dismounts, his sword gleaming like the edge of a winter storm.

You roll onto your back, the sharp edge of your blade in hand, but before you can strike, he’s there—his hand clamping down on your wrist with crushing force. His face hovers inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin, smelling of steel and leather and cold northern air.

"Easy, little fox," he growls, eyes narrowing in amusement. "You've made quite the mess tonight."

Your chest heaves with ragged breaths as you meet his gaze, defiance burning in your veins. But Stark only chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seems to echo through the forest. His men approach, panting and bloodied, but alive. He looks at them, then back at you.

"This girl almost bested you lot," Cregan says, his tone light, mocking. "If I hadn't been here, she'd have left your corpses for the crows."

The men glance at each other, sheepish but relieved, and you feel the heat of humiliation burn your cheeks. You want to fight, to spit some venomous retort, but you’re pinned beneath his weight, your body betraying you.

Cregan’s gaze sweeps over you, lingering a moment longer than it should. There's a gleam of something in his eyes—something that isn’t quite anger or mockery. Amusement, yes, but curiosity as well. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper only you can hear.

"Who sent you?"

You remain silent, your jaw clenched, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your wrist ache but not enough to break it.

"Stubborn," he murmurs. Then he smiles, the expression more wolf than man. "I like that."

With a swift movement, he hauls you to your feet, not releasing your wrist as he turns to his men. "Tie her up. We’ll take her with us. I want to know what game she's playing."

Two soldiers step forward, but before they can bind you, Cregan raises a hand, stopping them. He studies you, his gaze piercing, as if weighing something in his mind.

"Or..." His voice softens, though the command behind it is unmistakable. "You could join us. The North doesn’t mind a fox, as long as she knows where her loyalties lie."

Your heart skips a beat, the implications of his offer crashing over you like a wave. Betray the Greens? Betray Larys Strong? The thought is unthinkable, but standing there, caught in Cregan Stark’s grip, you find yourself staring into the cold eyes of a wolf—and you wonder if, perhaps, your loyalty is worth less than your life.

You say nothing, but Cregan's smile widens, as if he's already decided your fate.

"You don’t have to answer now," he says, his voice lowering to a dangerous purr. "But you will. One way or another."

And with that, you are dragged into the night, your future hanging in the balance between wolves and men.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark

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paskey12-blog · 3 years ago

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Recommendations list!

For the past couple of years, I have gotten into all things Korean. That kind of sounds weird, but what I mean is web dramas, kdramas, ff, and webtoons. So I decided to make a recommendation list with all that stuff. This will be the first one with just webtoons/ webcomics.

Webtoons:

Under the Oak tree by Kim Suji(knights, forced marriage, fantasy and magic, slight mature themes such as the mention of sex)

Positively Yours by Kang Ki, Lee jung(CEO, One-night stand aftermath, slice of life, rom-com)

Give Me a Flower, and I'll Give You All of Me by Jo Yoojin(rom-com, fantasy)

Romance in The Old Bookstore by 오후(slice of life, slight fantasy)

The Office Blind Date by 해화(rom-com, employee boss, CEO)

Love Your Enemies by Jungyoon(Enemies to Lovers)

Koi To Dangan by Mini Nozomi(Japanese Mafia/ Yakuza)

My Younger Brother's Friend by Nimmi(college, slice of life, rom-com)

Age Matters by Enjelicous(CEO x assistant, rom-com)

Edith by Swansgarden(rom-com, famous/male, author/female)

Freaking Romance by Snailords(fantasy, idol/male, normal/female)

True Beauty by Yaongyi(rom-com, makeup)

-I follow someone on Instagram who posts new episodes like 10 episodes ahead of Webtoon. The person's at is truebeauty.episodes

*I read all of them on Webtoons app or mangago.

https://www.mangago.me/

-E

#webtoon #webcomic #reading recommendations #recomendation

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immabethehero · 4 years ago

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Schneeplestein Apparently Has a Heart

The good doctor’s birthday is here and of course I wrote a story! Just warning, this story is quite dark. Read the trigger warnings below.

TW: Suicide attempt by gunshot (not seen, just implied), suicidal thoughts and words, extreme distress, minor violence, blood mentioned.

For the short amount of time that Jackieboy Man and Marvin the Magnificent have lived with Dr. Henrik Nicholas von Schneeplestein, MD, PhD, MVP, FFS, they have learned a few important lessons, or rules:

NEVER, under any circumstances, touch the top left cupboard on the outside of the kitchen opening. That’s where Schneep’s coffee supply is, and if you touch it, even ONCE, Schneep will be out for your blood.

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you mention Schneep’s wife, Lisette Schneeplestein. Apparently, the French brunette whom Schneep has been married to for the past 7 years has fucked off (Schneep’s words) back to France with her tennis instructor, Rick, short for Ricardo (Italian, apparently) and taken their two daughters with her. (Schneep has cleaned out Lisette and the girls’ rooms, and all the belongings they have left behind, in their efforts to leave so quickly, are packed away in storage containers in the garage. Schneep has yet to mail them to Lisette’s new address.)

DO NOT wake Schneep earlier than 10 AM in the morning if it’s his one day off. Despite having an early bird’s job, Schneep is not a morning person. Another reason why Schneep is dependent on coffee.

UNLESS it is an emergency, no one but Schneep is allowed in his office. As there are so many things to keep track of, and so many papers that could easily be misplaced, it is best not to touch, or even go inside the office, lest you want to throw the doctor off his game or have the doctor throw you off a cliff.

Despite these four unspoken yet very specific rules, Marvin and Jackie have learned one more this past month: despite the doctor’s arrogant, haughty, snappy, disgusting, even FERAL demeanour, he truly is a good person.

It just took a new ego to show them that.

March 30th, 2017. Schneep’s mail has been unceremoniously thrown onto the dining room table. Schneep’s hands, long and graceful, slide through the envelopes and fliers, organizing them into piles, from taxes and business inquiries to subscriptions and sales.

Jackie lazily eats his cereal, watching Schneep sort through the mail like a madman. Geez, just how popular is this guy?! It’s almost as wild as Jack’s mail. At least there’s more interesting stuff for Jack... drawings, letters of encouragement and thanks, even the rare crocheted or sculpted gift.

Schneep freezes when he comes across a particular letter, one with a cutesy pin cupcake logo. His eyes grow solemn as he picks it up and shakily opens it. Jackie cocks his head.

“Something wrong, doctor?” he asks lightly.

Schneep looks up. “Hm? Oh!” He sighs. “It’s from a baking class Sophia and I used to take together. Lisette had insisted I learn how to cook as well, so it wouldn’t always be her making the meals, and she figured it would be good bonding for me and Sophia. Soph loved those classes. We’d learn all sorts of fascinating recipes and bring the results home. They were fun, and very sweet.”

Jackie nods seriously. He knows he should leave it there, but something’s confusing him. “It’s been quite a few months since you stopped going. Why are they sending you stuff now?”

Schneep unfolds the letter. As he reads it, his eyes widen and a smile begins curling at his lips.

Somehow, that only makes more questions. “What…?”

“It’s not the company themself, it’s Chase! He was a friend from the classes! I haven’t spoken to him in forever! He’s such a lovely person, it’d be nice to see him again!” Schneep grabs his phone and hastily types in the number at the bottom of the letter. He squeals and runs off, like a teenager who just got a text from their crush.

The letter lies on the table, open for all to read. Jackie knows better than to pry into other people’s lives, but this letter is wide open, and it’s not like Schneep needs to know, so the superhero leans over and reads.

Hey Henrik,

This is probably weird to get, but I lost your phone number and I don’t know what your address is, so I asked the dudes at the baking class if I could send a letter to you via their services.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and I thought I’d better check in and see how you’re doing, see how bachelor life is treating you. Stacy and the kids miss seeing you as well. I wanna talk to you again.

My cell is #1273-545-8903.

Hope to see you soon!

Chase Brody

Chase Brody. That sounds like an American to Jackie’s ears. He does seem like a good person, if Schneep’s reaction wasn’t enough. He must have been a friend for Schneep when the doctor went through his divorce.

The name itself sounds familiar, like a local celebrity or something. Jackie makes a mental note to look it up later. He leans back and finishes his cereal just as Schneep comes back, holding his phone out. Marvin finally emerges, his green hair resembling a rat’s nest, and no mask. Jackie takes pride in the fact that Marvin now feels comfortable enough to show his face in front of Schneep and Jackie.

“Well, change of plans, I won’t be able to come home in time for dinner with you guys,” Schneep announces. Jackie nods.

“Wait what? Why?” Marvin slurs, slumping down at the dining room table.

“I’m going to see Chase after my shift today. We agreed to meet in the park,” Schneep explains curtly, and leaves.

“Did I miss something?” Marvin asks, turning to Jackie. Jackie nods down to the letter. Marvin leans over to read, only for the letter to be snatched up by the doctor.

“Who said you could go through my stuff?!” Schneep snapped. He stormed off, letter clutched firmly in his hand. Marvin sneers at Jackie, who only shrugs and winks. The magician rolls his eyes, but he understands. A shrug and a wink means I’ll tell you later.

Schneep throws on his brown coat and grabs his bag. “Have a nice day, boys. If I don’t see you later tonight, sweet dreams and I’ll see you in the morning.” He flies out, coat flapping behind him.

“He’s gotta show me how he rocks an overcoat so well. I’m jealous of the way he holds himself. So professional,” Marvin remarks. He quickly turns to Jackie. “Spill the tea.”

“Schneep’s meeting an old friend from a baking class he used to take with his daughter,” Jackie says. “His name is Chase Brody. The name sounds so familiar to me, and I don’t know why.”

“Look it up on your phone,” Marvin suggests. Jackie does just that.

Immediately, Wikipedia comes to the egos’ rescue. Chase Brody, (born April 11th, 1988) is an American-Irish Youtuber who is best known for his Youtube channel, Bro Average. As of February 2017, his channel has over 20 million views and over 10 million subscribers.

“Oh yeah, the trickshot vlogger!” Jackie says. “I like watching his stuff, he’s a funny dude.”

Marvin nods. “He must have kids as well. He wouldn’t be taking classes if he didn’t.”

Jackie scrolls down to Personal Life. “‘Chase is married to Stacy Matthews, and they have three children as of 2017, two biological twins, and one recently adopted daughter.’” The selfie provided shows a man with fair skin and bright blue eyes standing next to a red-headed lady doing a duckface.

“Hm. Sounds like he’s living the good life,” Marvin says. “A well-paid job, a nice family, a happy life.”

Boy, is he wrong.

At 5 PM exactly, Schneep sits at the bench by the great oak tree, waiting for Chase. He wraps his blue and navy scarf tighter around his neck as a cool breeze whisks by. Despite what the weather people promised, Athlone is nowhere near warm, despite it being spring. He examines the park-goers who walk by, picking up on every accident that could occur.

Parents swinging their child up and down: a broken arm, arms could pull out of their sockets, or the child could fall on their head and get a concussion. Or worse, permanent brain injuries.

Kids climbing trees: Another chance to fall and hit their tiny heads and sustain brain damage, if not that, broken limbs and splinters.

Teenagers skateboarding: more broken bones and limbs, but at least SOME are smart enough to put pads and helmets on. Others have no chance of recovering fully from brain damage or concussions should they fall on their heads-

“Henrik!” Henrik snaps to life and looks around. A man wearing a puffy black jacket, torn jeans and a snapback with a pink skull on it runs over to him. Schneep stands up.

“Chase Brody! Wie geht es dir mein freund?” Schneep cries out in delight, holding his arms out. Chase happily throws himself into them.

“I’m doing as well as I can, at least. It’s so good to see your face,” Chase sighs. He nuzzles Henrik’s hair, taking in the sanitizer and mint smell he’s gotten used to. “I’ve missed you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Schneep says. “Come, sit down next to me! Tell me how things have been. How are Stacy and your kids? Has Chloe adjusted to the new timezone yet?” Chloe is Chase’s recently adopted daughter from China. Schneep’s last visit with the Brody’s involved meeting her.

Chase’s smile fades and he sits down next to Schneep. “Um…”

Schneep’s stomach sinks. “That’s never good. What happened? Who died?!”

“Calm down, Henrik!” Chase exclaims. “No one died! Everyone’s fine. Chloe’s adjusted quite nicely.”

“Then why do you look so sad?!” Schneep cries.

Chase fidgets with his jacket zipper, mumbling incomprehensibly. Henrik leans closer. “Didn’t catch that.”

“StacyandIaregettingadivorce,” Chase whispers. Schneep’s stomach flips and sinks.

“What?”

“Stacy and I are getting divorced,” Chase repeats, louder now. “She said she still loves me, but not quite in a… romantic way, I guess. She wants us to just be friends.”

“Well, at least she still wants to be on friendly terms, I guess!” Schneep says. “Still, I can’t believe it… you two were such a sweet couple… so in love…”

“There’s another reason why she wants a divorce,” Chase admits. Schneep’s eyes turn wide as saucers.

“She’s seeing someone. An old friend from high school. I’ve seen her texts,” Chase says. He scrunches up the end of his shirt, nose wrinkling. Schneep hears him sniff.

“I don’t know how long it’s gone on… and I know she didn’t mean to… but still…” Chase finally looks up, eyes tearing. “How could she do that? I would have been okay with it! Maybe. I don’t know!” Chase buries his face in his hands.

Schneep pats Chase’s shoulder gently. He can’t believe Stacy cheated! She and Chase were such a romantic couple! They seemed so happy! Why would Stacy throw that all away for some whore? “What a bitch…”

Chase suddenly whacks Schneep’s hand off, eyes fierce. “Don’t call her that! It’s not like that! At least she still wants me in her life! She’s not like Lisette!” An awkward silence fills the air.

Chase gasps. “Henrik, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it that way-”

“Oh!” Schneep cries. “It’s fine! It’s no big deal!” Yeah, that was a low blow, but he would rather Chase doesn’t end up like him: cranky, alienating, friendless, alone. He needs a friend more than ever.

“No it’s not, I just sunk really low! You must be furious-”

“I’m not, I promise!” He’s not, surprisingly. Is this growth?! What the fuck?!

“I need to control myself better. I’m a grownup, for fuck’s sake, I should know better…” Chase moans, burrowing his head in his hands again.

“Chase!” Schneep exclaims. “You mustn’t beat yourself up like that! You’re one of my very best friends, which isn’t saying much because I don’t have any, but still! You have to be one of the nicest people I know! You’re anything but a dick!”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not, I swear !” Schneep says.

“I’m sorry, Henrik, I really am,” Chase says.

“I forgive you,” Schneep says, and means it. “I’m serious.”

“I should go,” Chase decides, standing. Schneep gets up as well.

“What? No! I’m not mad!” he protests.

“It’s my turn to pick the kids up,” Chase snaps. “I’ll see you around, Henrik. Sorry I can’t stay long.” He briskly runs off.

Schneeplestein yells and kicks the bench. “FUCK! FUCK! AAAHHH!!!”

Other park visitors turn in confusion, watching the strange man kick the bench and scream.

Schneep freezes when he notices everyone staring at him. He storms back to his car, slams the door shut and continues his screaming.

Once Schneep has finished “releasing his anger” (Jackie’s words, not his) he “reflects on the situation” (also Jackie’s words). What could he do to make Chase feel better?

He stays in the car for an hour, letting the world pass by as he thinks. By the time the sun has set, he has an idea.

Jackie and Marvin glare at each other from across the hall. Sirius the cat has hidden, choosing not to get involved. The little pegs in the cribbage board are neck-in-neck, both pegs exactly 4 steps away from the end hole. The egos stare at their cards.

“Four,” Jackie announces, putting the card down.

“Fourteen,” Marvin says.

The door flies open and Schneep rushes in, hair windswept and out of breath. “Where’s Jack?!” he demands.

“Out in his universe,” Jackie responds. “Fifteen for two!” He puts down an ace.

“Sixteen for two!” Marvin slams the ace down, looking triumphant. Jackie flips him off.

“When will he visit?!” Schneep questions.

“When he wishes,” Jackie responds. “Twenty-five!”

“How can I contact him?!”

“Why are you so interested?!” Marvin asks. “Thirty-one, bitch!” He flips Jackie off.

“I have a request for him!” Schneep responds curtly.

“What kind?” Jackie asks.

“It’s for a friend,” Schneep brushes him off, heading to his lab.

“Chase Brody?” Marvin guesses. Jackie kicks him.

Schneep turns around. “What did you say?”

Marvin gulps. “You left your letter on the table for me to read. I was fast enough to catch the gist before you snatched it up. So how is Chase Brody?”

Schneep growls softly and walks back to the table. Marvin sits up with his head held high, bracing himself for the punishment. No matter what Schneep does, slugging, kicking, ruining his hair, the magician can take it. He’s been through worse.

To Marvin and Jackie’s surprise, Schneep pulls up a chair and sits down. The doctor takes a deep breath. “Chase Brody is divorcing his wife. That’s all I’m going to say.”

Jackie and Marvin nod in understanding. “That’s sad to hear,” Jackie remarks, solemnly.

“But how’s talking to Jack going to help?” Marvin queries.

“I want him to make a video for Chase,” Schneep says. “If this so-called community exists, I want to see them show their love for Chase! It’s the least he deserves!”

Marvin and Jackie catch each other’s gaze. Schneep glares at Jackie expectantly.

“Well? You’ve lived with Jack the longest. How do you contact him?!” Schneep demands.

“I have his number in case of emergencies, but I’ve never had a reason to call him! I don’t even know if he’s available,” Jackie explains.

“He has to be. What else does a man who plays video games for a living do?!” Schneep snaps, incredulous. “It’s not like he has to be places or anything!” He looms over Jackie, a desperate, pleading look in his eyes. Jackie nearly topples out of his chair.

“I guess I could give it a shot,” the superhero mumbles.

Schneep squeals in delight and wraps his arms tightly around Jackie in what Jackie assumes to be a hug. The superhero pats the doctor’s arms, taken aback by his strength.

After a few sickeningly sweet seconds, Marvin pipes up, “Uh, doc? I think Jackie needs to be able to breathe in order to call Jack.”

Sheepishly, Schneeplestein lets Jackie go. The superhero gulps in big gasps of air, before grabbing his phone and dialing Jack’s number.

A day later, Jack McLoughlin sits at the egos’ dining room table, chomping away on mashed potatoes and a juicy steak.

“My goodness, you never told me what a good chef you were, Schneep!” he sighs in ecstasy.

Schneep bows his head, face glowing red. Jackie raises an eyebrow. Schneep almost NEVER blushes when given a compliment. It’s strange to see the doctor act so shy and humble around someone, especially Jack. It feels like only yesterday Schneep was bombarding Jack with questions about where he came from and how the alternate universe worked. Since that day, Jack has quickly risen to become one of Schneep’s favourite people on the planet. Not that Jackie is jealous or anything…

“Just a little recipe I learned for my wife…” Schneep mutters, playing with the end of his lab coat. Across the table, Marvin snickers lightly, watching the doctor fumble for words. Finally, some entertainment!

“So, what was the call for?” Jack asks. “Just wanted to say hi?” His expression darkens. “Is it Anti? What did he do?!”

“It’s not Anti. We haven’t heard from him for a while!” Jackie says. Jack sighs in relief.

“I mean, I know I made that video for PAX and all but I just wanted to make sure,” Jack says.

“You made an Anti video for PAX?!” Marvin cries. “Why?”

“Because the fans would enjoy it! Also because I was running out of ideas for what to do for an opening,” Jack admits. “It just seemed like the right amount of fun and originality without being too over the top!”

“When is Anti not over the top?” Jackie scoffs. That earns a laugh from the others.

“Actually, it’s Schneep who has a question for you,” Marvin says.

Jack turns to Schneeplestein. Schneep’s smile disappears. He looks around the table, watching everyone’s gaze. He grins nervously at Jack.

“Could I ask you in private? This stuff… it is… personal.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” Jack says, standing up. Schneep follows after him.

In the upstairs hallway, Schneep spills everything. He explains who Chase is, what’s going on in his life, and how he believes making Chase an ego could help his situation.

“Make another ego? Oh god, I’m having enough trouble managing you all right now,” Jack admits.

“All you have to do is make one video. The fans can do the rest,” Schneep presses.

“How?”

“By showing their love for Chase! He’s a funny and sweet guy! Your fans would love him!”

“How will the community’s love help a man struggling with a divorce?” Jack questions.

“Their love will lift his spirits and he will feel more confident and happy! You said you noticed a difference in us after the community made content of us! If that is really true, then I want to see them show their love for Chase. It’s the least he deserves!”

Jack is silent, contemplating the pros and cons. Finally, he sighs and says, “Can you show me what he usually does?”

Schneep types something into his phone. He logs onto Youtube and types a channel name into the search bar. Bro Average.

“Bro Average? Is that a parody of Dude Perfect?” Jack asks, chuckling.

“Well, it’s because there’s only one person performing every stunt, and because it’s less... professional than the other channel,” Schneep explains. “For example-”

The video shows Chase at a park, holding a Nerf gun and wearing a goofy grin. “Sup, guys! I’m Chase, and welcome to Bro Average!” He shoots a nerf dart off-screen, only for it to crash into something, invoking a cat screech. Chase pretends to be startled.

It flashes forward to Chase in a tree. “This one’s called, ‘Multitasking’!” He hangs off a branch while trying to knock over six cups stacked up on each other with darts. Jack can’t stop snickering at Chase’s antics, as he wobbles and threatens to lose his balance. Chase yelps and squeals, and a few times, swearing can be heard, though it’s censored by loud beeps. Finally, Chase hits his target, just as the branch snaps. Chase whoops with glee as he crashes onto the ground, the branch smacking into his head. His cameraman runs over to him, worried, but Chase is rolling on the ground in laughter as tears run down his face.

“He is not nearly as good as the professionals, but his humour and authenticness bring in the fans,” Schneep says, smiling.

“He sounds like a blast!” Jack takes the phone and begins to skim through Chase’s videos. “I bet I could make something work! I’ll borrow an office space, bring a couple friends and film a few shots! Can’t be that hard!”

“So you will do it?!” Schneep cries.

“Absolutely! Give me a couple days and it will be ready!”

Schneep cheers and engulfs Jack in a bear hug. Jack laughs and pats his friend’s back. It’s nice to see the doctor open up at last to his new roommates and creator, and so quickly, as well. Jack decides Schneep can be rewarded for his good nature by granting his wish and helping out a new friend.

A few weeks pass. Schneeplestein schedules more visits with Chase. The two fathers laugh and chat, learning more about each other and discussing whatever they please without the worry of kids hearing. Schneep feels his spirits lift whenever he sees Chase’s snapback and hears his cheerful voice.

In the night, a familiar sensation returns to the egos’ dreams. Sounds of a Nerf gun, kids laughing and on the rare occasion, a man crying fills the egos’ heads as they sleep. Schneep feels his heart break when he hears Chase’s cries. He hopes this video will help Chase. It has to.

April 11th, 2017. The egos are gathered around the dining room table, Jack’s Youtube account open on his laptop.

Jack idly sits at the centre, waiting for Schneep to arrive with Chase. Marvin and Jackie play another round of cribbage, and this time Jackie seems to be way ahead on the board, much to the magician’s dismay.

“I’m going to be skunked! I hate this game so fucking much!” Marvin gripes, as he receives two points for his math efforts.

Jackie snickers as he counts his cards. “This takes both luck and skill. You’re a fast learner, Marv. I’m sure you’ll pull through soon.”

“Not soon enough,” grumbles Marvin as Jackie moves his peg 16 points.

The door opens and Schneep walks in with Chase Brody right behind him. Compared to the laughing man with the warm aura in Google Images, this Chase looks cold and kind of grumpy.

“Chase, this is Jack McLoughlin, our ‘creator’ and a wonderful man,” Schneep introduces. Jack awkwardly holds his hand out for a shake. Even though he’s seen versions of himself several times this past year, it’s still rather unnerving to be given death stares by himself but with yellow hair, snapback and a fair share of freckles.

“Jack, this is Chase Brody, your newest ego and the face of Bro Average!” Schneep continues. Chase raises an eyebrow.

“Ego? Like alter ego?” Chase turns to the others, and realizes that they share the same hair and face. “Oh... my... dog. Am I a fictional character?! Is this a character intervention with the narrator?! Whatever happened, I promise, I didn’t do it! Sally encouraged me to eat the worm!” Chase kneels before Jack, cowering and whimpering.

Jack chuckles nervously. “Relax, Chase! Technically, you are a fictional character-” Chase shrieks in alarm.

“But only in another universe. You’re very much a real person in this one,” Schneep concludes, helping Chase up by the arm. Chase shakes the doctor off and Schneep tries his best to hide his hurt.

“To put it simply, some of the videos on my channel don’t exist in this universe. This is because they’re about you… egos,” Jack recites. “You’re the most recent ego, however, your video and beginnings are a bit different because I already had some course material to go off of.”

Jack clicks play on the video. Chase sits down and gasps as Jack-as-Chase flies around the office, performing trickshots and screaming like a toddler who drank too much apple juice. Is… is this him?! The accuracy! Holy shit! They even got his bloopers right! Creepy!!! Is he being stalked?!

Schneep watches from afar, fidgeting with his lab coat. Chase hasn’t moved once since the video started. He doesn’t look angry… but at the same time, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his Power Hour. Truth be told, it’s not like the Doctor particularly likes his Power Hour either. Jack didn’t have to go and mention his cheating wife… or the fact that Peter did die at one point… Nonetheless, Chase is just sitting there, with wide eyes.

Jack, on the other hand, is already regretting what he did. Perhaps he emphasized too much on the “Not-As-Professional-Or-Successful” part. Maybe he made Chase too goofy or not as three-dimensional as he could have. The Youtuber catches a glimpse of the screen. Oh no. It’s the part with-

“Stacy, please, I know, I’m trying to get all the shots, look, just please don’t take the kids!” Jack-as-Chase pleads. Schneep and Jack-in-the-flesh turn white as a ghost. Chase frowns.

“This one’s called, ‘I’m Staying At My Sister’s This Weekend’!” Jack-as-Chase announces. It flashes back to him on the phone. “Well, I don’t care what your sister says! Just please! At least let me see them on the weekend still!”

Jack scratched his neck nervously and teethed on his knuckles, face beet red. Chase looks horrified. Schneep looks just as worried. Marvin and Jackie awkwardly stand up to leave.

Chase pauses the video just as Jack-as-Chase sobs. He takes a deep breath and turns to face his “creator”. “So… are you the reason my wife and I are getting a divorce?”

Jack gapes, taken aback by Chase’s accusation. He doesn’t want to throw Schneep under the bus, but at the same time, Chase wasn’t exactly “created” like the others-

“Not exactly!” Schneep interferes. “It… it was my idea. I thought if I got Jack to make a tribute video in honour of you, it would help you!”

“Help me?!” Chase laughs, a harsh and cold sound compared to his whoops and chuckles in his videos. “How?! By running my wife’s name through the dirt?!” Jack flinches.

“Fair enough,” Schneep says with a groan. “I should have been more specific when I said divorce and kids.”

“You told-?!”

“I thought if you knew you had a big name on your side you’d feel better! It was supposed to be a little treat!” Schneep counters.

“Oh, what am I, a little pity party to you?” Chase snaps. “My divorce was private information, Schneep. Why else did you think I wanted to talk to you alone?! Now the whole world knows and Stacy’s going to be treated horribly because of you shits-”

“Not the whole world!” Schneep exclaims. “Just… all… of Jack’s world.”

“Shut up,” Chase hisses. “I don’t care that there’s more than one universe. So be it. What I care about is the fact that you betrayed my trust and now people are going to treat Stacy like she was a freaking bitch. This may come as a surprise to both you and Jack, but not all women are cheating whores like Lisette, asshole!”

SMACK. Chase cries out. The egos and Jack huddle together. Schneep’s breathing slows as he registers the sting in his hand and Chase rubbing his red cheek.

Schneep takes a deep breath, and in chilling, low, icy words, he snarls, “Don’t ever say her name again.”

Chase recovers from the slap and storms over to the door. “Whatever. You know what?! Stay away from me and whatever’s left of my family. I don’t care if I’m a part of your ‘creator’s’ story or whatever, I JUST WANT YOU OUT OF MY LIFE.” Chase grabs his coat and slams the door shut with a loud BANG. Schneep remains at the dining room, breathing unsteadily, vision somewhat blurry.

“Doctor? Are you alright?” Jackie whispers, reaching a hand out.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Schneep runs upstairs to his room and slams the door. Muffled sobs soon echo down the hallway.

Jack’s heart breaks in two. He really thought this video was a good idea. Somehow, all it brought was pain. He sighs defeatedly and slumps down at the table. Marvin closes the laptop.

“Shit… that was awful…”

“And it was supposed to be Chase’s birthday present!” Jack moans. “Ahhhhh, I feel like an asshole… I shouldn’t have been so mean…”

“It’s not your fault…” Jackie soothes. “You made an assumption and played it with satire. Schneep shares some of the blame as well. He should have kept that part quiet.”

“And I should have kept that out of the video…” Jack sighs. “Now Chase feels even worse about the divorce and he wants nothing to do with us…”

Jackie and Marvin sit down beside Jack and rub his back. Jack sighs again and rests his head on the table.

Upstairs, Schneep screams into his pillow, tears finally flowing. He hates himself and Chase and everything that’s happened. That’s what he gets for helping a friend. Ungrateful bastard-

No. Schneep should have known better! That was private information, he had no right poking his nose in and telling everyone. Well, it was just one person, but still! Now Chase never wants to speak to him again and he’s lost the only friend he’s had in a while and everything sucks and he just wants to curl up and die. Schneep pulls his hair and screams again. He can’t sleep, but at the same time, he can’t do anything else. So he remains in bed, crying and thinking. Eventually, long into the night, he falls asleep, cheeks wet and eyes sore.

Schneep wakes up feeling like absolute shit. His cheeks are somewhat sticky and damp. He must have been crying in his sleep. His stomach feels awful. But it’s a work day, so he gets out of bed.

Schneep stumbles into his ensuite bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. He shudders when he sees his reflection. Grey skin, messy hair, red eyes. He doesn’t smell so good either. Sighing sadly, Schneep throws off his clothes and turns on the shower faucet.

When he hops out of the shower, he puts on his scrubs and grabs his spare labcoat. He trudges downstairs, where Marvin is waiting with fluffy chocolate-chip pancakes on the table.

“Morning, doc,” Marvin greets cheerfully. His smile fades when he sees Schneep’s ashen face. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Schneep replies hoarsely.

“I made you some coffee,” Marvin continues. “I know you like it.”

Schneep grunts softly and pours himself a large cup. As he drinks he heads to the hook of keys by the front door, only to find-

“Where are my keys?” Schneep asks, staring at the space where his car keys used to hang.

“I saw Sirius knock them off earlier,” Marvin replies, flipping through the nearest magazine. “I tried to catch her, but she’s so fast.”

“Where is she right now?” Schneep inquires, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Beats me. I can’t control her,” Marvin says calmly.

Schneep growls and pounds on the table. Marvin jumps slightly, but quickly recovers and goes back to his reading.

“This isn’t funny, Marvin. I need to get to work!” Schneep snaps. “I’m already falling behind schedule.”

Marvin snorts, looking up from the magazine. “You think you’re fit to go to work? Your face is bright pink, you’ve got large shadows under your eyes and I heard you crying for who knows how many hours last night.”

“I have allergies! They were just acting up!” Schneep snaps.

“Oh, really? Allergies? That’s rich coming from the man who claims to have ‘the strongest immune system in the world’!” Marvin scoffs.

“Even the strongest immune systems have off days, okay?!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Henrik, are you even hearing yourself?!”

Schneep fights back more tears. “Marvin, please, tell me where the keys are! I can’t be late for work!”

“And you won’t be! I called the hospital and asked them to give you a day off!” Marvin says.

Schneep almost drops his mug. “You… you did what?!”

“I told them it was a family emergency,” Marvin admits. “And that we didn’t know how long it would be. They understood, told me to tell you to take as many days off as you need.”

“Which is none,” Schneep scowls. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

“Henrik, you said you didn’t want Chase to go through his divorce alone and friendless, like you. You’re going through a tough time right now. The last thing you need is to be alone.”

Schneep gapes at the magician, tears threatening to fall. Marvin stares back, heart thumping loudly. He prays he didn’t say the wrong thing. He hopes this works.

Maybe it’s because he didn't get enough sleep, or maybe it’s because he’s never had anyone be so concerned for his well-being that they screwed up his schedule, but Henrik finally lets his anguish go, and collapses, bawling like a little baby. Marvin gets down from his seat and wraps his arms around the doctor, soothing him and singing softly.

Jackie finally emerges from the bathroom, and joins the cuddle pile in the kitchen. As Henrik finally slumps completely into Marvin’s arms, he and the superhero high-five and move the sleeping doctor into the living room for a day of Netflix and cuddles.

Five days pass. Henrik sits at his desk, tapping his pen. In front of him is the start of a letter, with only the words “Dear Chase,” written on it. He needs to apologize to Chase, but just doing it by text seems insensitive. So written letter it is! Now… where to start…

Dear Chase,

I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and there’s no way to excuse my behaviour. I really believed I was doing the right thing by telling Jack, but I should have known better than to air dirty laundry.

The doctor shakes his head and crumples up the page. He can do better than that. Now to start over-

His phone begins playing the familiar sound of a monitor beeping. He really needs to change his ringtone. It’s too painful to hear after all the dead patients that came with it.

Henrik freezes when he notices the name. Chase. Why is he calling? Heart thumping and hands shaking, Henrik picks up the phone.

“Hello? Chase?”

“H-hi, d-doc…” Chase answers in a raspy whisper. The sound of sniffling is not lost on Henrik.

“Chase? Are you okay?”

“Not really…” Another sniffle. “But I will be… soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry for all the shit I said… It was wrong of me to bring up your own divorce… I-I shouldn’t have been so harsh…”

“No, Chase, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have brought up your divorce in the first place! I thought I was doing good by telling Jack, but he clearly misinterpreted it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it…”

“It’s alright… you were just trying to make me feel bet-better… I just overreacted… I overreact to eve-everything… I’m such a bay-baby.” Chase sounds like he’s holding back tears.

“No you’re not. You had every right to be mad… I’m sorry for slapping you. How’s your cheek?”

Schneep hears Chase chuckle softly. “It’s fine… It doesn’t hurt as much as other injuries…” The laugh turns into a sob.

“Other injuries?! What do you mean?!” Henrik demands. “Chase, you’re worrying me!”

“I’m sorry… I can’t seem to do anything right… All I do is upset people…” Chase is outright crying now.

“Chase, please tell me where you are,” Henrik pleads, getting up. “I need to make sure you’re okay!”

“No… I don’t think you’ll want to see this…” Chase mumbles. He takes a deep but shuddery breath. “I have to go. Goodbye, Henrik.”

“Chase?! CHASE?!” Henrik screams. The phone line goes dead. Henrik yelps and quickly rushes into his contacts. He finds Stacy’s name and calls her.

She answers on the first ring. “Henrik? It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Where is Chase right now?”

“What?”

“Where is he living?”

“What’s going on? What did he say to you? Is he okay?”

“Call 999. I don’t believe so.”

Henrik hangs up and dashes out of his office, up the stairs and to the front door, where he grabs his keys and coat. Marvin and Jackie sit at the kitchen island, both on their phones.

“Henrik? What’s going on?”

“I have to go to the hospital. I’ll be back,” Henrik answers curtly. He throws on his coat and leaves.

Henrik runs into the hospital and quickly signs himself in. A nurse comes by and squeaks in surprise when she sees him.

“Dr. Schneeplestein? What are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

“Time is broken, Cass,” Dr. Schneeplestein replies. He dashes off to the emergency room. Cass quickens her pace, trying her best to catch up to him.

“Have there been any emergencies yet?” Schneep demands.

“I think an ambulance is arriving soon-” Cass begins.

“Who’s the patient?” Schneep asks.

“A man attempted suicide-” Cass starts.

“I’ll treat him,” Schneep announces.

The doors open and medics rush in, driving a man on a gurney. Schneep pales when he sees red. The good doctor swallows his fear and tears. Now is not the time to be a baby. He’s not called the good doctor for nothing. Time to save Chase’s life.

Hours later, five nurses come in to find Dr. Schneeplestein exhaustedly sobbing against the wall, shoulders convulsing as he cries into his hands. On the gurney lies a man with yellow hair poking out of a large bandage wrapped around his head. The monitor beeps rhythmically, and the man’s chest rises and falls slowly. So why is the doctor crying?

Three nurses wheel Chase out while the other two bend down next to Schneep. One nurse, Kate, tentatively places a hand on his shoulder. He jumps in shock.

“Schneeplestein? Are you alright?” Kate asks.

Schneep smiles shakily. “He’ll live…” He shivers and whimpers. “Oh god… so much could have happened… So much could have gone wrong… I thought I lost him a few times...” the doctor breaks off with another sob.

“Why don’t you head home? Today is your day off,” Kate suggests.

“In a little while… I need to speak to the patient first…” Schneep replies in a raspy voice. Kate nods. She and the other nurse, Matt, help the doctor up. His legs wobble and almost give out. Schneep takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way out of the operating room and into his office.

An hour later, Henrik reappears, wearing his comfy labcoat and drinking some tea, a rarity considering how much the doctor prefers coffee. But he needs to relax, and so Matt whipped up a nice cup of tea.

Henrik pulls up a chair and sets his cup down. He looks down at the sleeping man, face as white as the bandage wrapped around his head. Chase has never looked more fragile and vulnerable. His cheeks are sunken and there are large bags under his eyes.

Henrik rubs his face. Truthfully, he’s just as tired. He looks up at the clock. 1:11 am. God, he was in the operating room for quite a while. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be as stressed as he was today. He leans back and closes his eyes. Maybe he can get a quick nap before-

“Dr. Schneeplestein?” He opens his eyes and looks up. His stomach flips when he notices a woman with red hair that falls in waves down her shoulders. Her soft brown eyes are full of compassion and worry. Stacy Brody. Or Stacy Matthews, to be more precise.

“Stacy…” Henrik mumbles. “What… I mean, I’m sorry. I understand this must be a lot for you.”

“I can’t believe it… I mean, I knew about his depression, I just didn’t think it would get this bad,” Stacy says, voice soft and sad.

Henrik nods. “Yes. One can’t help but wonder what the breaking point was.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Stacy whispers hoarsely, staring down at her ex-husband’s skinny frame. “I did cheat on him. I told him I wanted a divorce after he found out… I wonder what would have happened if I told him straight up about Delilah… I wonder how he would have reacted…”

Henrik is speechless. He can’t really say it isn’t her fault, but at the same time, it wasn’t as if she could straight up tell him. There really was no way of telling how he would have reacted. Henrik groans and rubs his eyes again. He can’t think straight.

His mind flickers back to the video, and his stomach sinks. Did that video… influence his decision? Should he tell her about it? Would she be mad? He takes a deep breath.

“I mentioned your divorce to another friend,” he finally says. “Said friend made a video that I think mocked Chase more than flattered him. I thought it would help… but it didn’t. Only made him even more upset.”

“A video? Was this the video that ‘Jack’ made?” Stacy asks. Henrik opens his eyes, horrified. How long has she known?! Oh god, she must despise him! Henrik whirls around to face her, face riddled with guilt.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d take it in that direction- It was a shitty idea, I was so invasive and it was absolutely despicable of me and-”

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay! It was an honest mistake!” Stacy responds calmly. “Chase told me about it. He felt awful and he was so pissed with you guys. I will admit I was a bit peeved at first, but Chase said he yelled at you and broke off his friendship with you, so I figured it was punishment enough.”

“He also brought up my wife,” Henrik says. “So I punched him.”

Stacy nods. “Ah, that’s where the bruise came from.”

Henrik cringes. Damn, did he actually hit Chase that hard? He really is a dick. He sighs and stands up. “You are more than welcome to punch me. I deserve it. I never should have brought up the divorce. It was hateful of me, really.”

Stacy shakes her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t! You saved Chase from the brink of death. It’d be so insensitive of me!”

“I insist.” Henrik holds his head up. Stacy reluctantly stands up, and raises an open palm.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks.

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” Henrik says.

Stacy takes a deep breath… and punches him. Henrik falls back into the chair from the force. Stacy cringes.

“You… have a very strong punch,” Henrik remarks, holding his throbbing cheek. He holds a finger up when he sees her mouth move. “Don’t apologize. You were right to do so.”

“I took karate as a kid,” Stacy boasts. “I won a black belt at age five.”

“Good for you! To be honest, it wasn’t nearly as hard as my wife’s,” Henrik admits.

“Well, at least I got my ‘revenge’- wait, what?!” Stacy does a double take. “Lisette used to punch you?!”

“She only did it once,” Henrik quickly adds. “After I called her a whore.”

“Oh. That explains a lot,” Stacy deadpans.

“I deserved that as well,” Henrik says. “I just wish she hadn’t moved so far away… I wonder how the girls are doing...”

“Have your children contacted you?” Stacy lightly presses.

“I’ve tried to contact them,” Henrik says. “I don’t think Lisette lets them write or call me.”

“Then Lisette really is an ass,” Stacy explodes. “What if they do want to talk to you? She can’t hide them from you just because she doesn’t like you.”

“That doesn’t seem to stop her. I keep my phone nearby in case Sophia calls when her mother isn’t around.” Henrik pats his pocket. “Or maybe Rick will let her. He’s quite nice and he’s good with kids, which is why I was quite surprised when he turned out to be-”

“A homewrecker?” Stacy suggests. Henrik glares at her, scandalized, but she can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, snickering.

“I was gonna say an ass, but that’s better,” he says. Stacy bursts out laughing, but it quickly fades when she notices Chase. She clears her throat.

“I’m going to take the kids away for a while,” she reveals. “At least until he’s emotionally stable to look after the kids.”

“You know Chase would never let his depression get in the way of being a good father,” Henrik protests.

“I know. I just feel he needs a break from it all,” Stacy says. “Mostly family life, me and Delilah in particular. Maybe she and I could go to my cottage in Scotland. We can stay there until he feels ready to share custody once more. He can’t be alone, though. We know what will happen if he does. He can’t go back home either. We still need to wash out the blood and dispose of any guns he might have. Of course I mean the real guns, but he might not want his Nerf toys either. He needs to be with someone , and that can’t be me. I just don’t know anyone he could stay with who lives in Athlone. We only just moved here.”

Henrik lights up. Holy shit. It’s like destiny! This is the perfect opportunity! “He can move in with us. He’s already an ego. He’d love it there. Sure it’s a bit chaotic, but I think he’d love it!”

Stacy raises an eyebrow. “What sort of chaotic?” she questions.

“The local superhero likes to crash there, we have a magician who INSISTS on using us for test subjects for his latest tricks, and me, the ‘feral doctor’,” Henrik lists off. “Come to think of it, I’m actually the voice of reason.”

Stacy tries her best to hide a shudder. “I feel a little worried about his safety. And no offense, but it’s a bit concerning that you’re the voice of reason in that house.”

Henrik scoffs in mock insult and shoves her gently. “Oh screw you! To be honest, Jackie is actually the smart one. I’m the one who pays the taxes and keeps a roof over their head. They’re the ones who overstayed their visit.”

Stacy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. She looks more relaxed than when she walked in. She stands up.

“I think it’s time I left. Good luck, Chase. I wish you all the best with your recovery.” Stacy leans over and gently kisses Chase’s cheek before turning to Henrik and holding her hand out. Henrik returns it and gives it a small squeeze, only to be pulled in for a hug. He gasps in surprise.

“Thank you Henrik,” she whispers. Henrik nods and returns the hug, holding her tightly until she signals to let go. Stacy picks up her bag and leaves.

Henrik sits back down and takes out his cellphone to call the egos. Jackie picks up after the first ring.

“Henrik? Are you okay?”

“I want you to clean the house and make some hot chocolate. We’ve got a new roommate coming to stay with us!” Henrik announces.

“Is it Chase? Is that who we’re taking in?” Jackie asks.

“Yes. I want everything to be perfect, so go! Get cleaning!” the doctor commands.

“Need us to pick you up?” Marvin suggests.

“I can drive just fine! See you soon!” Henrik hangs up just as Chase begins to stir. The doctor watches him apprehensively. He hasn’t seen Chase since the argument. How will he react?

Chase groggily opens his eyes. He can see a bright light shining down on him and closes his eyes. “Where… where am I?”

He slowly attempts to sit up. A soft pair of hands gently help him sit up and rub his back.

Chase blinks, trying to clear his vision. The blurry blue shape slowly comes into view… Henrik! The good doctor sits beside him with an anxious expression on his face.

Chase wracks his memory to try to remember what had happened. He can feel a heavy fabric wrapped around his head. He lifts a hand to better investigate… oh.

Henrik’s heart breaks when he sees Chase drop his hand, expression forlorn. Here we go, he thinks.

“Chase?” Chase looks up. “Before you say anything, know that you have every right to be mad at me and Jack. What we did was despicable and absolutely awful. You don’t have to forgive us, and I completely understand if you never do. But you can’t be alone right now. You’re going through a really tough time, and the last thing you need to be is alone. I don’t know if you’ll accept it, but we have an extra room at home that would be a perfect spot for you to stay while you recover. I know you might not want to talk to me, but Jackie and Marvin are living with me, and they will ensure your time there will be as comfortable as possible. It’s fine if you don’t want to go, but just know that we will always be there when you need a place to stay.”

Chase is silent, simply gazing at Henrik with unshed tears. Finally, he throws his arms around Henrik’s neck. Henrik startles, but returns the hug.

“Is that a yes?” Henrik mumbles. Chase nods. Henrik sighs in relief and squeezes Chase tighter. Now all he has to do is hope Jackie and Marvin have the house ready by the time he returns.

Henrik parks the car in the driveway and turns to Chase. The vlogger fidgets with his t-shirt. Henrik puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Just warning you now, while Jackie and Marvin have good hearts and intentions, they can be little shits and there’s a good chance the house will still be a mess when we get back in. Good luck.”

Chase whimpers in fear. Henrik nods solemnly. “My thoughts exactly.”

The fathers unload the car and walk up to the front steps. Henrik takes a deep breath and opens the door.

“FIFTEEN FUCKING POINTS! I WIN AGAIN MOTHERFUCKER!” Jackie screeches. Marvin roars in anger and tosses a pillow at Jackie, who backhands it. The pillow soars across the house and slams into Henrik, who grunts in alarm and falls backward. Chase shrieks in alarm, gaping at his fallen friend.

Marvin and Jackie turn around, bright blue eyes glaring into Chase. Marvin’s eye twitches sporadically and Jackie smiles like a madman. Chase nervously waves. Marvin clears his throat and forces a sleep-deprived smile.

“Howdy, Chase!”

#attempted suicide tw #suicidal ideation tw #blood mention tw #extreme distress tw #apparently i can write #jacksepticeye #dr. schneeplestein #chase brody #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #writersofjack #writers of jack

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chiefbelieverstarlight · 4 years ago

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“The Garden of Janus”

I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above the West, brave hippodrome Whose gladiators shock and shun As the blue night devours them, crested comb Of sleep's dead sea That eats the shores of life, rings round eternity! II So, he is gone whose giant sword shed flame Into my bowels; my blood's bewitched; My brain's afloat with ecstasy of shame. That tearing pain is gone, enriched By his life-spasm; but he being gone, the same Myself is gone Sucked by the dragon down below death's horizon. III I woke from this. I lay upon the lawn; They had thrown roses on the moss With all their thorns; we came there at the dawn, My lord and I; God sailed across The sky in's galleon of amber, drawn By singing winds While we wove garlands of the flowers of our minds. IV All day my lover deigned to murder me, Linking his kisses in a chain About my neck; demon-embroidery! Bruises like far-ff mountains stain The valley of my body of ivory! Then last came sleep. I wake, and he is gone; what should I do but weep? V Nay, for I wept enough --- more sacred tears! --- When first he pinned me, gripped My flesh, and as a stallion that rears, Sprang, hero-thewed and satyr-lipped; Crushed, as a grape between his teeth, my fears; Sucked out my life And stamped me with the shame, the monstrous word of wife. VI I will not weep; nay, I will follow him Perchance he is not far, Bathing his limbs in some delicious dim Depth, where the evening star May kiss his mouth, or by the black sky's rim He makes his prayer To the great serpent that is coiled in rapture there. VII I rose to seek him. First my footsteps faint Pressed the starred moss; but soon I wandered, like some sweet sequestered saint, Into the wood, my mind. The moon Was staggered by the trees; with fierce constraint Hardly one ray Pierced to the ragged earth about their roots that lay. VIII I wandered, crying on my Lord. I wandered Eagerly seeking everywhere. The stories of life that on my lips he squandered Grew into shrill cries of despair, Until the dryads frightened and dumfoundered Fled into space --- Like to a demon-king's was grown my maiden face! XI At last I came unto the well, my soul In that still glass, I saw no sign Of him, and yet --- what visions there uproll To cloud that mirror-soul of mine? Above my head there screams a flying scroll Whose word burnt through My being as when stars drop in black disastrous dew. X For in that scroll was written how the globe Of space became; of how the light Broke in that space and wrapped it in a robe Of glory; of how One most white Withdrew that Whole, and hid it in the lobe Of his right Ear, So that the Universe one dewdrop did appear. IX Yea! and the end revealed a word, a spell, An incantation, a device Whereby the Eye of the Most Terrible Wakes from its wilderness of ice To flame, whereby the very core of hell Bursts from its rind, Sweeping the world away into the blank of mind. XII So then I saw my fault; I plunged within The well, and brake the images That I had made, as I must make - Men spin The webs that snare them - while the knee Bend to the tyrant God - or unto Sin The lecher sunder! Ah! came that undulant light from over or from under? XIII It matters not. Come, change! come, Woe! Come, mask! Drive Light, Life, Love into the deep! In vain we labour at the loathsome task Not knowing if we wake or sleep; But in the end we lift the plumed casque Of the dead warrior; Find no chaste corpse therein, but a soft-smiling whore. XIV Then I returned into myself, and took All in my arms, God's universe: Crushed its black juice out, while His anger shook His dumbness pregnant with a curse. I made me ink, and in a little book I wrote one word That God himself, the adder of Thought, had never heard. XV It detonated. Nature, God, mankind Like sulphur, nitre, charcoal, once Blended, in one annihilation blind Were rent into a myriad of suns. Yea! all the mighty fabric of a Mind Stood in the abyss, Belching a Law for "That" more awful than for "This." XVI Vain was the toil. So then I left the wood And came unto the still black sea, That oily monster of beatitude! ('Hath "Thee" for "Me," and "Me" for "Thee!") There as I stood, a mask of solitude Hiding a face Wried as a satyr's, rolled that ocean into space. XVII Then did I build an altar on the shore Of oyster-shells, and ringed it round With star-fish. Thither a green flame I bore Of phosphor foam, and strewed the ground With dew-drops, children of my wand, whose core Was trembling steel Electric that made spin the universal Wheel. XVIII With that a goat came running from the cave That lurked below the tall white cliff. Thy name! cried I. The answer that gave Was but one tempest-whisper - "If!" Ah, then! his tongue to his black palate clave; For on soul's curtain Is written this one certainty that naught is certain! XIX So then I caught that goat up in a kiss. And cried Io Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan! Then all this body's wealth of ambergris, (Narcissus-scented flesh of man!) I burnt before him in the sacrifice; For he was sure - Being the Doubt of Things, the one thing to endure! XX Wherefore, when madness took him at the end, He, doubt-goat, slew the goat of doubt; And that which inward did for ever tend Came at the last to have come out; And I who had the World and God to friend Found all three foes! Drowned in that sea of changes, vacancies, and woes! XXI Yet all that Sea was swallowed up therein; So they were not, and it was not. As who should sweat his soul out through the skin And find (sad fool!) he had begot All that without him that he had left in, And in himself All he had taken out thereof, a mocking elf! XXII But now that all was gone, great Pan appeared. Him then I strove to woo, to win, Kissing his curled lips, playing with his beard, Setting his brain a-shake, a-spin, By that strong wand, and muttering of the weird That only I Knew of all souls alive or dead beneath the sky. XXIII So still I conquered, and the vision passed. Yet still was beaten, for I knew Myself was He, Himself, the first and last; And as an unicorn drinks dew From under oak-leaves, so my strength was cast Into the mire; For all I did was dream, and all I dreamt desire. XXIV More; in this journey I had clean forgotten The quest, my lover. But the tomb Of all these thoughts, the rancid and the rotten, Proved in the end to be my womb Wherein my Lord and lover had begotten A little child To drive me, laughing lion, into the wanton wild! XXV This child hath not one hair upon his head, But he hath wings instead of ears. No eyes hath he, but all his light is shed Within him on the ordered sphere Of nature that he hideth; and in stead Of mouth he hath One minute point of jet; silence, the lightning path! XXVI Also his nostrils are shut up; for he Hath not the need of any breath; Nor can the curtain of eternity Cover that head with life or death. So all his body, a slim almond-tree, Knoweth no bough Nor branch nor twig nor bud, from never until now. XXVII This thought I bred within my bowels, I am. I am in him, as he in me; And like a satyr ravishing a lamb So either seems, or as the sea Swallows the whale that swallows it, the ram Beats its own head Upon the city walls, that fall as it falls dead. XXVIII Come, let me back unto the lilied lawn! Pile me the roses and the thorns, Upon this bed from which he hath withdrawn! He may return. A million morns May follow that first dire daemonic dawn When he did split My spirit with his lightnings and enveloped it! XXIX So I am stretched out naked to the knife, My whole soul twitching with the stress Of the expected yet surprising strife, A martyrdom of blessedness. Though Death came, I could kiss him into life; Though Life came, I Could kiss him into death, and yet nor live nor die! XXX Yet I that am the babe, the sire, the dam, Am also none of these at all; For now that cosmic chaos of I AM Bursts like a bubble. Mystical The night comes down, a soaring wedge of flame Woven therein To be a sign to them who yet have never been. XXXI The universe I measured with my rod. The blacks were balanced with the whites; Satan dropped down even as up soared God; Whores prayed and danced with anchorites. So in my book the even matched the odd: No word I wrote Therein, but sealed it with the signet of the goat. XXXII This also I seal up. Read thou herein Whose eyes are blind! Thou may'st behold Within the wheel (that alway seems to spin All ways) a point of static gold. Then may'st thou out therewith, and fit it in That extreme sphere Whose boundless farness makes it infinitely near.

-- Aleister Crowley

#aleister crowley #poems #poetry #art #culture #dark academia

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rotationalsymmetry · 3 years ago

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Statement of ideology re: abortion (for what it’s worth):

Hard core pro-choice here.

Abortions should be legal, free, and unstigmatized, and they should happen however often they happen. Minors should not need parental permission of any sort. (Like…it’s generally a good idea for teens to talk to their parents, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to force teens to tell their parents.) No waiting periods, no late term abortion bans, no mandatory vaginal ultrasounds, none of that.

Contraception should be free, and available without a prescription. A wide variety of forms of contraception should be available, including specifically more penis-haver focused contraception. Information about contraception should be widely available and easy to understand. (And taught in schools ffs.)

Talking about sex should be normalized. Differences in sexual preferences should be normalized — in particular the idea that a woman who’s interested in any sexual contact with a man is interested in PIV sex with him needs to die in a fire.

Something something consent culture environment supportive of sexual assault/abuse survivors something something.

And, on the flip side, women and girls who want to keep the pregnancy — or who want to get pregnant on purpose — should be able to and should get all the support they need for that to be a viable option, period. (Yeah, not exactly where we are now.) And no stigma against those who become mothers really young. (Hang on, that was really gender essentialist, I also mean trans folks with uteruses. People with uteruses. Parents.) Sometimes people want to be a parent at disconcertingly young ages, or would rather do that than get an abortion, and that’s a bodily autonomy issue too. And “shit, me and my baby will be homeless if I don’t get an abortion” is just as much coercion as not being allowed to get an abortion. “Teenage pregnancy” is only a problem to the extent the teenager sees it as a problem.

(Abortion is usually not “an option” so much as “the only viable option, in practice”, which means most of the time “pro choice” is pro abortion — true reproductive freedom means abortion is a viable choice and having a child is a viable choice.)

(Sure, adoption is an option, it’s also a stunningly unpopular option. There’s something about going through pregnancy and childbirth and not having a child afterwards to mitigate the unpleasantness, that is just phenomenally unappealing to most people. Shocking, I know.) (But yeah, sure, that should be an option too, and open adoption on the birth parent’s terms should be an option for all those that want that.)

(And…I’m generally not very sympathetic to the MRA “financial abortion” (men shouldn’t have to pay child support if rye don’t wanna) concept just because, like objections to tipping, not doing that while keeping everything else the same means someone’s going to get screwed over badly. But ideally? Yeah, biological parentage should not automatically mean financial responsibility for a child, ideally; ideally this is a community support situation not an “each family for themselves” one.)

Likewise: trans people need to get their gender recognized without having to get sterilized; disabled people who want to be parents have as much a right as non-disabled people; and this thing where some women can’t get a hysterectomy that they want while others get sterilized against their will is …there aren’t words.

Anyways, we’re not going to be there any time soon, but in the meantime: an egg isn’t a chicken, an acorn isn’t an oak tree, and a fetus isn’t a child. Abortion is fine. There is morally nothing wrong with it. It’s just miscarriage on purpose. That’s all.

The moral issue comes with denying people the right of what to do with their own bodies and lives. (And since most people who get pregnant are women, and since there’s a fuckton of ways an unwanted pregnancy can fuck your life up, this is hella a feminist issue.)

And that’s not at all incompatible with understanding that when a person with a wanted pregnancy loses the pregnancy, that can be an unspeakable tragedy. Pregnancy has different meanings in different contexts; sometimes it’s a heart’s true desire and sometimes it’s a worst nightmare.

There is a thing about the issue of abortion that brings out the liar in so many people. Some truths: there doesn’t have to be a clear line at either conception or birth, the change between not-person and person can be a gradual thing with no unambiguous “this is a heap” point. Truth: a lot (maybe most? Don’t have the numbers offhand) of abortions are sought by women who are already mothers. It’s not some “irresponsible” young woman only thing. Truth: you can get pregnant from rape. Truth: late term abortion is fundamentally not the same thing as first trimester abortion; first trimester (normal) abortion is usually about not wanting a full pregnancy/child; late term abortion is usually when the pregnancy was wanted but something went horribly wrong and there is not going to be a living child at the end of the process no matter what. (Also: “partial birth abortion” isn’t a medical term and the ban didn’t stop abortions it just changed how they happened and interfered with parents’ ability to mourn a wanted but dead child. Sorry. But I think it’s important to point this out.) Truth: most pregnancies aren’t viable and miscarriage due to severe health shit happens all the time. (This might not seem like it is related to abortion, but to my way of thinking abortion can only be “murder” if miscarriage is the loss of a child, and realistically most miscarriages are not responded to that way, and many aren’t even noticed.)

Truth: laws are a sledgehammer and many people who think abortion should be illegal in general do actually get abortions themselves or help a loved one get abortion for the exact same reasons as everyone else, like “I’m too young and it would derail my life plans.” Not everyone who’s against abortion I’m sure. But also, not everyone who’s personally against abortion thinks it should be illegal. Truth: thinking something is bad and thinking it should be illegal are different things. I don’t really expect that to be compelling to someone who thinks abortion is bad, since I’ve already said I don’t think it is. But it’s an internally consistent position many people have.

Truth: abortion sometimes saves lives. Truth: abortion sometimes saves lives when determining there was a threat to life would have been incredibly difficult or unlikely. Truth: you can get pregnant from rape, and an abortion ban with a rape exception is either going to get a ton of people lying about being raped when they weren’t, or a ton of people who were raped but can’t get an abortion because they can’t prove it, or both. Truth: there are people who go to an abortion clinic who haven’t been to a doctor for any other reason in years and won’t go again for years.

Truth: some people who get an abortion regret it, and many others feel mostly relief or not much of anything.

Truth: from a health perspective, carrying a child to term even under the best of circumstances is far more risky than getting an abortion.

Truth: you can be a moral person and also get an abortion.

(Opinion: for people with uteruses who date people who could get them pregnant, especially who date cishet guys: you have to be on the same page about abortion on a personal level. If you’re not sure which way you’d go that means you need to only be (in a relationship with) people who think it’s your call and they will back you no matter what. Guys who have the capacity to get someone pregnant and who don’t believe in abortion ethically need to wait for sex until they and their partner are ready to have a child. That’s the only ethically consistent stance. A dude who says he’s against abortion but wants sex right away is the worst kind of shitbag and completely unfuckable.)

Anyways. Be well.

If I could talk to my teenage self, I would say: you will think about it, you will decide abortion is morally neutral, and you will be really pissed off that you were surrounded by “pro-choice” people who never just sat down and told you how they came to the conclusion that abortion was morally OK. I would say: most adults don’t actually care that much about what children are told, they think they’re too busy to worry about that, so there are vitally important things about the world that no one has told you for political reasons, because there are vicious hateful people who will fight like vipers to keep you from being told those things and the adults who would have told you weren’t willing to have that fight. This is not fair or right. But it doesn’t mean there was nothing to say. It just means there are vipers.

And yeah, you’ll still be pissed at the idea that if you’d gotten pregnant as a teen or young adult, you wouldn’t have actually gotten a choice. Fucking hypocrites.

There’s more than one way to deny people their reproductive rights.

#sexuality #abortion #pro choice #oh god this should be like 7 different posts #oh well #child death tw #long post #‘woman’s right to choose’ yeah if she’s under 18 or financially dependent on her parents #you mean her parents’ right to choose for her

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a-writing-bear · 5 years ago

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[PruCan] Chapter 12: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/51804982

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ But it is not formatted as well as the AO3 version.

Previous Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: High gone bad. Unwanted touching (just mentions but slightly uncomfortable) Crowds & Depiction of a Panic Attack

In the past, the William-Jones family was a well-to-do, well adjusted and highly successful suburban family. Or at least economically and socially successful- if anyone asked Alfred he would quote their strength of prosperity came exceedingly cursed in terms of emotional wealth. In the most accurate and blunt possible turn of phrase: they were incompatible. Their french woman was an ‘aloof’ type more keen on decorating her doll and darling little boys, rather than acknowledging her arranged marriage to a work-obsessed brit. He could recall the loving pats he would get and Matthew and him sitting on a Saturday morning in a sunroom conservatory of their house in Surrey, England with their mother combing his ruthless cowlicks away; their father would be incessantly jabbering on the phone- something along the lines of investments and long term fail safes. They were 6 when they last saw that old house and it’s growing vines and English charm- his mother had decided to drag them to Canada, and despite the failed boutique business venture in Montreal, she had a trust fund large enough to keep them located there without work- obviously not enough to keep their father interested, Harry always was hard to please. He remembered the arguments that plagued the stairwell, the shouting they thought wasn’t audible through the twin’s bedroom walls.

Harry was quick to file divorce the moment he got a venture in the USA. Turns out it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been arranged married to a woman once her family no longer pulls strings. Alfred went with dad. At least he was still dad back then- Alfred feels remorse when he does hear the word ‘Father’ tumble out Matthew’s mouth as if he was being scolded again. He remembers Matthew staying with mama, her pretty nails and thin arms wrapping around his brother as they said goodbye.

Bad signal phone calls and some Summer camps were the only thing that kept the two siblings in contact, that and the occasional visit when dad couldn’t be arsed to deal with Al’s pestering. Prodigy of the academics, and exceeding in sports was the only way to get dad to put his phone down. He remembered Matthew on the phone complaining mama trying to bar him from hockey, or lamenting that mother didn’t see art as more than a hobby. So different huh? Matthew called a lot. Still close despite the distance. At least not till high school, if only Alfred had shut his mouth, if only he-

“Al? Ah? Has the..signal cut out or..?”Kiku’s voice wandered back into his head.

“I was asking if you’ve talked to your dad about-”

“No, I haven’t asked him about it. I haven’t even talked to Matthew about it. It’s getting late keeks- I should log-off, I’ve got an early lecture.."

----

Matthew's head felt subdued, despite the cackling cacophony of laughter that filled the room. His earlier attempts to get some water ended with him giggling with some random people- he could only really recognise the accent-tinged voice of Lukas, asking if he was alright. Of course, he was alright. He was here right? Everything was fine. Okay. good. Has this room always been this fuzzy? The kitchen counter seemed to stretch out forever in front of him and his mind wandered. God, he should not have smoked that much. He probably stank...everyone could probably smell him...oh fuck he’s a dumb idiot. Lukas must hate me.

“I don’t hate you Matthew- what are you going on about?” Shit could he read minds or was he talking, the Canadian’s inner voice seemed to be shouting but the pang only subsided with the tiniest sips of the overly clean tap water.

“Jeez. I thought I told Mathias to not go overboard tonight...look Matthew I need you to tell me how you feel right now.”

Floaty. He felt floaty- but also like he’s sinking, melting into the tile floor and he can’t get up, the shallow attempts at sobering up felt like they were weighted with 10 years of baggage. There are so many voices in this house- has it always been this cramped? Had Lukas’tiles always been that baby blue? Oh god, he’s a horrible friend, he’s gonna be left here so fucking floaty, and he’s just gonna float away and everyone-

“Matthew- Matthew your phone man, Hej! Matthew! For god's sake” suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and someone reaching into his pockets- despite the sudden discomfort and manhandling, Matthew was too tired to do much but whine at whoever was fishing out his phone. he hated people touching him. Not now.

“Hej? Thank god please tell me you’re calling to pick- …. Yes, Matthew is here isn’t that why you’re calling?. What? .. I- hm, I don’t think he can chat much...okay…” Lukas had moved the phone near to Matthew's ear, holding it with the other hand on his hip in annoyance but also a concern for his very paranoid and high friend.

“Mattie?” Oh, that silken voice that screamed of adventure and rock music, so nice- Gilbert was so nice.

“Gil? Hi hello, what's up eh?”

“Mattie? Where are you?-”

“Above! I’m above!”

“What? Mattie are you- are you drunk or something?” Matthew chose not to answer but instead snort and push his glasses up before humming to his friend on the phone and pushing the little glass rectangle towards Lukas.

“I can’t pick him up, wherever you are… is Tim with him?” This time Lukas answered stating that Tim was incapacitated on a couch somewhere.

“Right. Hm. I’ll go call Alfred and he’ll pick them-”

Suddenly Matthew’s heart rate jumped even higher, if he wasn’t already slightly over aware, now he was on overdrive. The phone had been on speaker and he heard mention of his brother. Alfred couldn’t know. If he knew it would be over. He can’t know. Never know. No. Nope definitely not.

“Uh I don’t think he wants Alfred man, He’s oh shit Matthew breath, please. Matthew- Matt, hold on…Someone call Tim now please!”

Matthew was mumbling. Mumbling and mumbling and god shit it was loud in here and people kept touching him and he just wanted people to stop touching him and fuck fuck fuck. He needed to be sober right now- this was not gonna end well. Breathing sucked. Everything sucked insanely right now. He saw Tim’s clunky shoes in front of him- since when was I crouching? He heard someone saw something and he could feel others watching and watching oh god people are watching, Tim? Hello Tim?

“Matthew. Give me a colour” brown. “Why brown?” Brown because that was the colour of Tim’s shoes right then..he could trace the floor around the brown shoes...browner than the oak trees near his old house.

“How about another colour?” Blue. but like light blue. The kind you swaddle a baby in. blues that seem to almost be too simple and light.

“That's nice, where did you see blue?”

“In the- uh- …” he felt like choking a little bit but the words were coming out. “The kitchen has..blue tiles.” Everything was coming back down to earth and Matthew was starting to feel a bit better- even if his chest hurt a little.

“How do you feel about red?” That was a dumb question. He answered. “I like red.” He loves red. Red is his hoodie. His hoodie which was being pushed into his arms right now as he stood up, and Tim’s face came into view, a slight worry masked with relief at his friend's recovery from the panic attack.

“I...I want to go home.” Matthew spoke as if a fog had cleared up, but he still felt slightly floaty as he was brought into a car with Tim by his side, and chaperoned home. He’ll think more about all of this later. He wanted to sleep.

-----

Gilbert didn’t like sleeping early on Saturday but then again not many people worked on Sundays. To be fair, Gilbert’s Sunday job was a temporary stand-in at the grocery shop for some lady who got pregnant. He just needed a bit more cash and was willing to spend a few weeks of bagging if it meant he could save up to see his uncle. He should probably sleep now so tomorrow he could get work done without feeling terrible, the diner dinner was already awkward enough.

He wondered what Matthew was doing. Matthew with his sweet smile, who seemed so different in front of his brother and especially with that guy Tim. Matthew who got headaches from too much sugar..who shared vanilla milkshakes. God Matthew was adorable. After scrolling through his social media (and perhaps doing some minor stalking of a certain boy’s Instagram) Gilbert was still not tired enough to call it a night. When did his Saturday nights become ‘wait til work’ days? He was getting a bit too bland he supposed. Ludwig was probably asleep. He should text Mattie- ask how he’s doing- perhaps that invite-only event ended already. Texting didn’t seem to do much. It wouldn’t be too rude to call right? Just to check on him.

“Hey, Birdie! I know you’re probably busy but-”

“Hej? Thank god please tell me you’re calling to pick-” someone else’s voice reverberated down the line, causing great confusion.

“Is uh, Is Matthew Williams there?” Gilbert could hear laughter and hollering in the background but all seemed unimportant except the fact that someone distinctly NOT Matthew picked up the phone.

“Yes, Matthew is here isn’t that why you’re calling?” The voice also sounded just as confused as himself, assuming that Gil knew where Matthew was.

“I don’t really know why I’m calling but now I’m worried, you are not him”

“What?”

“Just put him on the phone and let me talk to him.” Gilbert sighed as he heard the phone being passed, the fumbling noises making a ruckus on the phone.

“.. I- hm, I don’t think he can chat much...okay…” At least whoever this was trying.

With bated breath and a slight pause, the phone seemed to sound as if the jostling was over. “Mattie?” he called out hesitantly

“Gil? Hi hello, what's up eh?” The voice sounded more happy than surprised but much too calm.

“Mattie? Where are you?-”

“Above! I’m above!” what the fuck is he talking about? He sounds completely out of it. Gilbert’s protective instincts kicked in, worried that something had happened to the Canadian. Hopefully, Matthew was as tolerant as his brother and wouldn’t be having a killer hangover tomorrow- he needed Matthew slightly sober tomorrow to at least talk about his project.

“What? Mattie are you- are you drunk or something?” No response. Only a slight humming. Christ. The stranger must have been given the phone since they apologised for Matthew’s inability to cooperate- they asked if he could come to pick the boy up.

“I can’t pick him up, wherever you are… is Tim with him?” shit. Tim was drunk too? What kind of stupid idiots both get drunk if they knew they had to go home. Jeez if that dutch dude got drunk he can only imagine what god awful party Matthew had stuck himself into. He would attempt to get Matthew, but his motorbike and drunk people do not exactly mix well.

Thinking hard he stared at his dorm room door- Alfred! He could call his friend’s brother. “Right. Hm. I’ll go call Alfred and he’ll pick them-”

Suddenly he heard a wail and some noises of shouting- Matthew in the background, only briefly- “Uh I don’t think he wants Alfred man, He’s oh shit Matthew breath, please. Matthew- Matt, hold on…Someone call Tim now please!”

Gilbert could only hear a rustling and some more movement. With that, the phone seemed to hang up and he stared in complete panic at the phone.

A text.

M @ 12:47am : Hi. This is Matthew’s, Friend Lukas. Sorry for the hang-up, Matthew had a panic attack again. He is okay. They are being taken back to campus by Berwald, Tim will be dropped off back at his house too, nothing to worry about. You might want to help get Matthew to his room later though. Sorry for the trouble. Night.

Fucking hell. Gilbert slipped on some sweatpants, a jumper and some flip flops, already on his way out to meet up with this Berwald guy at the dorm entrance.

#prucan #HWS Canada #HWS Prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #hetalia world stars #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia fandom #hetalia fanfic #fanficition #fanfic #APH Canada #APH Prussia #Multichapter

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foxofthedesert · 6 years ago

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Arrow FF | Dinah x Laurel | A Christmas Miracle

Part 3 – The Dance (Click for AO3 Link)

As Dinah trails Laurel down the familiar amber-lit hallway, she has to remind herself that this is not her first trip to this particular Oak Forest complex. Seeing as Laurel lives smack dab between Felicity and Dinah, the convenience of her apartment made sense to conduct meetings of the anti-Diaz club Felicity formed while Oliver was locked up and which thereafter morphed into what Felicity calls ‘an unconventionally awesome three way Womance.’ Dinah also drops in to check on Laurel after particularly rough days, a gesture that while not received with praise is at least silently appreciated judging by Laurel’s tacit acceptance of her continued unannounced visits. There is a modicum of resentment from Laurel that occasionally boils over due to feeling unfairly criticized or annoyingly henpecked due to the wanton villainy that characterized her recent, although Dinah has learned how to assuage those flare ups with honeyed reassurances that she is only concerned because she cares. Usually that works well enough, and it when it doesn’t they just bicker it out until one of them invariably apologizes. Lastly, during their collaboration on the Ace Chemical case, work twice spilled over into Laurel’s home and saw them laboring into the wee hours of the morning double and triple checking critical details tucked away inside the mountain of associated files.

All of this means that Dinah a stranger to this sharp, stylish corridor, nor is she unfamiliar with the cozy confines of the abode lurking behind the door just ahead. And yet the tingling in her extremities and the butterflies fluttering around in her tummy would suggest otherwise. In the wake of their bonding experience at the shelter, the sensations being produced by Laurel’s proximity and their pending nightcap are not unlike those she experienced the night before her junior prom. Only then her date was a six foot two, one hundred ninety-five pound star athlete with whom she was utterly smitten; whereas now...well, at least the last part is accurate if her slightly humiliating reaction is any reliable barometer.

Get ahold of yourself for God’s sake, she tells herself as they approach Laurel’s front door, which displays a lovely ornamented wreath. You’re not sixteen anymore and this isn’t a date. Then she recalls Laurel’s anxious shifting as the invitation was posed, and how clearly it was meant as much more than a friendly gesture of thanks for her help at the shelter. Or is it? Hmm. Laurel certainly was acting like maybe it is, which is probably why I’m as big a bundle of nerves as she seems to be. Holding her hand when we left the shelter didn’t help matters, either. As Dinah remembers how right it felt when their palms meshed and their fingers wove together, she watches Laurel fumble for the key to her apartment with shaky hands, swear under her breath, then glance back sheepishly before returning to her task. The unmistakable hint of an incredibly fragile hope that flared through Laurel’s green eyes hits Dinah square in the chest. Jesus. Is this really happening?

Dinah gets her answer when Laurel finally slides the correct key home and pushes the door open, then hesitates in the doorway before offering a shy invitation that sounds nothing like the arrogant, flamboyant, dangerous vixen she first encountered on Lian Yu. Unfortunately Laurel recovers her confidence too quickly for Dinah to comment upon that brief display of vulnerability then flicks on the light and enters to reveal a sight no one who knows this Laurel Lance could have ever adequately prepared for.

Inside the apartment is a scene that would not be horribly out of place in one of the Hallmark Christmas movies Dinah enjoys indulging in during the Holidays. Festive trinkets adorn virtually every piece of furniture from little knickknacks like porcelain elves upon the bookshelf to dual poinsettias with ribbons attached to the wrapping on the vase on the entertainment stand next to the door all the way up to an exquisite nativity scene upon the coffee table that appears as old as it is gorgeous. Meanwhile a modest Christmas tree is tucked into the corner of the living room, neatly and conservatively trimmed featuring plain white lights and mostly silver ornamentation.

“I like what you’ve done to the place,” she says as she mimics Laurel in shrugging off her coat then depositing it, as well as her other unnecessary garments, upon the coat rack to the left of the door.

Laurel smiles over her shoulder, an attractive blush coloring her cheeks. “Thanks. I might have gone a bit overboard. This is the first year I’ve decorated since...” she trails off then, brows drawing in, an oppressive sadness dimming the light in her eyes as she is transported somewhere in her mind, to another time and place Dinah is not yet privy to. But as abruptly as the gloom descends, Laurel brushes it away with a shake of her shoulders and reattaches a wry smile to her face. “Well, let’s just say it’s been a long time.”

Wanting to ask about what went through Laurel’s head just a second ago and whether or not it has to do with Quentin, Dinah opts instead for a safer track. Some day she will get Laurel to open up to her about all she’s been hiding for so long under those impressive facades meant to distract from a secret anguish no one else seems interested in. Except for Dinah, that is, and not just due to the cop instincts that make her want to dissect criminals and villains to determine what makes them tick. She wants to know because it has been evident to her since she bothered to look past the jagged sarcasm, edgy goth wardrobe, and penchant for violence, she realized there was something significant there screaming to the heavens to be uncovered. Once she knew what she was looking for, it didn’t take a genius to figure out there is so much hurt being bottled up inside Laurel that needs to be vented if she’s to maintain this positive course correction she’s made. The problem is Laurel’s problematic lack of a support system makes any definitive progress unlikely in the near term. Who in her life would she deem trustworthy enough to permit voyage beyond the as of yet impenetrable facade? The answer is self-evident to Dinah. No one. Or not yet anyway. Dinah is trying her damnedest to be that someone since no one else seems interested.

With every one else important to Laurel life occupied with their own problems, such as Felicity and Oliver with their family and Team Arrow and all the peripheral shit that comes along with being the central figures of a Superhero outfit that spans multiple cities and Earth, or simply unconcerned about her welfare because they can’t let go of the past – ahem Rene and John – the burden of caring about and for Laurel Lance has fallen to Dinah alone. And that’s okay. She’s happy to shoulder it. Dinah has always been a caregiver. It’s one of many factors that drove her to focus her military training into a meaningful civilian service. That and Laurel, at least to her, is worth it. If no one else can see that? Their loss. She’ll take this exceptional, infinitely interesting woman over the banal choices for company daily served up to her on a silver platter.

“What got you in the holiday spirit if you don’t mind me prying?” she asks, following Laurel into the living room where her svelte hostess gestures for her to sit.

“Hold that thought and go ahead and make yourself at home while I go get the snacks,” Laurel says in lieu of answering immediately, then glides off toward the kitchen with her typical grace.

Dinah obeys like a good guest, and to keep from fidgeting occupies her hands by trailing her fingers over the smooth lacquered finish of the figurines composing the nativity scene neatly arranged upon the coffee table. The craftsmanship really is amazing, the precision unlike anything she has come across from her limited exposure to Christmas decorations. As a kid her parents opted to celebrate the holidays in a non-religious manner seeing as both were lapsed in the faith they were born into, her father the son of Southern Baptist preacher and her mother’s family ensconced firmly within Reform Judaism. But she had friends who made big to-dos about Christmas and often visited their houses to get a glimpse into a portion of modern life she was denied. She used to marvel at the ornamentation on display and wish she was brave enough to ask her parents to make some allowances. None of her friends had anything like this, though.

The manger is so intricate that she can feel imperfections in it as if it were real wood, the hay hundreds of individually constructed strings upon which a marvelously detailed baby Jesus lay, with ten tiny olive-tinted fingers clutching at the threadbare shawl wrapped round him. Mary and Joseph are almost as meticulous, in their period clothing with accurate complexions and features, as are the equally diverse wise men and the astonishingly life-like miniature lambs tucked in round the manger.

“My great-great-great-something grandfather made that in the 1850’s, I think,” Laurel says, having snuck back in while Dinah was entranced studying the figurines. A bit startled, she looks up to see Laurel rounding the couch with a tray in hand and tracks her progress as she continues on to deposit the tray carefully upon an unoccupied portion of the coffee table. “It’s also the answer to your earlier question. I mean, volunteering at the shelter this year got me thinking about when I was a kid and my parents would go crazy around Christmas. Nostalgia hit me hard, so I started browsing through some of the boxes of Christmas stuff Quentin never got around to unpacking and found this nativity scene carefully tucked away in bundles of padding. It’s exactly the same as the one my Quentin inherited, one of a handful of items that survived the family move from Germany after the war. Incidentally, apparently family origin is one thing that doesn’t really change between Earths where we have doppelgangers.” She pauses for a breath. “Anyway, I wanted to put it out to remember both Quentins by but it seemed silly to have just that, so I put up a few more. Which turned into a few more. Eventually...I looked around and this had happened. Oopsie.” To prove her point, she gestures around the apartment, its festive décor providing a merry backdrop to what Dinah hopes will be just as merry a night.

“Well, it’s absolutely gorgeous so I don’t blame you one bit for wanting to show it off. Or for going overboard on the rest,” Dinah says, savoring the information she has just gleaned. Not only does she now know that they share in a heritage that traces back to Germany before the Second World War and that family histories remain largely intact between multiple Earths when a person exists in each of them, but the most intriguing tidbit is that Laurel had a happy childhood at one point. So what went so terribly wrong to make her into Black Siren? Curiosity surges through her mind that she quickly tempers with a dose of reality by reminding herself why she’s here. “The whole apartment is really nice. I’m very impressed,” she adds, meaning it from the bottom of her heart. “Now that I know you have a knack for interior decorating, I’ll be blackmailing you into sprucing my place up for Hanukkah next year.”

Just because her late parents chose the path of unbelief does not mean Dinah has. There was a time she abandoned her faith, but since moving to Star City she has slowly been building up to the loosely-observant Reformist she is today. That means among other things that she attends synagogue whenever she can, which isn’t as often as she’d like due to her job, and eats as kosher as convenience and finance will allow. She has never been big on tradition, so she prefers to practice her faith in a casual way that appeals to her modern, practical, and privacy-oriented sensibilities. That said, her belief is as strong as it has ever been, strangely enough thanks to the woman from whom she just washed dishes and mopped floors until her fingers pruned up and her back ached like a bitch. If there was ever a sign from God that love and forgiveness possess a singular power to heal the heart, it has come in the form of her constantly evolving relationship with Laurel.

Ignorant of Dinah’s thoughts, Laurel chuckles at the jest she just made, which causes those amazing dimples of hers to peak out. “Can’t wait to see what material you break out to get me to do your bidding. I’m not easily blackmailed, you know.”

“I know. I happen to like a good challenge, which you most certainly are,” Dinah says with a wink that causes Laurel to blush for what seems like the hundredth time tonight.

“I’ve been called many things, but none with ‘good’ attached as a modifier. Eggnog?” Laurel returns as she gently picks up a mug of eggnog and offers it to Dinah, who accepts it with a grateful smile.

Powerless to resist the creamy goodness cradled in her hands, Dinah takes an experimental sip and cannot stop a moan of pure delight from purring through her chest. “Well, get used to it if this stuff is any indication of your talents.” She then breaks off the arm of one of the gingerbread men, snaps the hand off, then samples the dismembered appendage. Eyes sliding shut in rapture, a similar sound erupts from the depths of her chest. The cookie is more like something out of a professional bakery than an amateur oven. It is soft, perfectly chewy with a cinnamony and gingery flavor that coats her tongue with wonderfulness. “Christ alive, Laurel! This is divine.”

Not half as divine as those noises you just made, Laurel thinks, then chastises herself for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. She has always been hyper-aware of Dinah’s casual sensuality and absurd level of hotness, but lately her inability to curb that awareness has proven quite the irritant.

“Where’d you learn to make this?”

Dinah’s question causes Laurel to reemerge abruptly from the haze induced by that sinful moan. “I found it in my dad’s recipe book,” she answers, hastily to avoid any intensive scrutiny of her embarrassing biological response. “I mean, Quentin’s. Not that my Quentin wasn’t…that he didn’t...err, that he wasn’t...” A soft hand touches her to mercifully prevent any further verbal flailing.

Dinah’s gentle smile eases the mortification, but only just. “It’s okay. I know how much he meant to you. It’s not wrong of you to see him as your dad. He was. If any man ever loved his daughter, that’s the way Quentin loved you.”

Tears prick at Laurel’s eyes unbidden and she clamps down on her lower lip to keep from whimpering like some pathetic little girl. That age old cliché that time heals all wounds is nothing but a bunch of bullshit to Laurel when it’s yet to get any easier for her to hear how deeply this Earth’s Quentin Lance cared for her. The gaping, oozing sore his entirely preventable death left behind is a constant reminder of her unforgivable failures as a daughter upon two worlds. When her mother died in an auto accident and took her Sara to the grave with her, Laurel selfishly and foolishly blamed it all upon her father, who was behind the wheel, even though it was not his fault. A truck driver strung out on amphetamines to stay awake ran a light and plowed right into the passenger’s side. There was nothing anybody could have done, but that didn’t stop Laurel from berating her father at every turn until their relationship was in tatters and he could barely stand to look at her for fear of what she might say. When he was gunned down two weeks after her sixteenth birthday, six months after her Ollie died in the Gambit, she blamed him for that, too. Or at least she did until realization set in that all of the tragedies were ultimately her fault. Her parents had been on their way to pick up her from a silly after school program for advanced readers when that accident occurred, Ollie went on that trip with his dad because she was putting too much pressure on him to move away with her for college, and her father was killed interrupting a robbery while out buying ice cream for her because she emerged from the dreary foxhole of depression to actually interact with him for the first time in weeks.

Guilt over her role in those events ate her alive over the subsequent years. Haunted in nightmares, she was stalked from the shadows of her mind every waking hour of the day until she was reduced to little more than a deviant drug addict living on the streets, willing to do anything for a fix so the voice inside her head that sounded suspiciously like her dad would stop blaming her for their family’s demise. Becoming Black Siren cauterized that wound fairly well up til being Black Siren cost her the exceedingly precious second chance at deserving her father’s unconditional love. That day in the hospital, hearing Sara’s plaintive cries, feeling the blood rushing in her ears, unable to curtail the tears rolling down her face, tore it right back open again, as it has remained ever since. And the only person who has seemed to notice her silent suffering is Dinah Drake.

Miracle of all miracles….

As if sensing Laurel’s internal distress over her terrible comportment and her reticence to continue down this line of discussion, Dinah again proves her aptitude with regard to Laurel’s emotional and mental state. A pat of Laurel’s hand precedes returning her own to her mug, and she then adopts a more neutral posture and tone as she indulges in another healthy sip of the eggnog. After a satisfied little sigh, she asks, “So, what brought you to the shelter?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Laurel says, tone a bit clipped.

One day she will tell Dinah about the months she spent living at place just like the Carmine Kanigher Emergency Shelter. If her wildest dreams come true, she’ll finally be safe enough in a relationship with a woman who can handle the harrowing tale of a broken nineteen year old sexual abuse victim and heroin junkie who escaped her personal hell when S.T.A.R. Labs explosion bathed her battered body in Dark Matter in the midst of an agonized banshee wail. Beaten half to death, face a bloody mess, violated beyond reckoning, angry cigar-shaped burns seared into the small of her back and the back of her neck, in tattered clothes that hadn’t been washed in a month, she stumbled eight blocks in the dead of night until she spotted the little facility tucked in between a decrepit old apartment building and an anachronistic Catholic church that looked more like it belonged in Gotham than Central City.

As she stumbled across the empty intersection, her heart started beating uncontrollably. Two steps out a cold sensation corkscrewed up her spine and she stopped right in the middle of the street, paralyzed. Out of the blue she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, could smell the stink of vodka on his breath, and feel a grimy hand clamping down on her hips whilst the other snatched great handfuls of her hair with all the tenderness of a rabid grizzly. Panic descended upon her like a runaway train. Unable to think, reduced to pure adrenaline and fear, she used every last ounce of willpower to force her feet to move and raced as fast as her unsteady legs would take her toward sanctuary, heedless of the cars barreling down upon her from both lanes, horns screaming at the crazy unkempt lady on a suicide mission to figure out the chicken’s motives for journeying to the other side of the road. Only instead of a triumphant arrival, her toe got hooked on the sidewalk, causing her to face plant within a stone’s throw from what would soon become her only safe haven in life, fracturing her cheek and reopening the jagged cut on her lip.

Laurel can remember so vividly how she literally crawled those last five yards to the front door on her hands and knees, panting for breath and keening in manic desperation, can remember how her bare knees were shredded on the unforgiving concrete leaving behind erratic streaks of blood that took the staff four hours to scrub out the next day. How she got up the stairs and through the front door is not so clear, but she does recall smelling fresh popcorn the second she staggered inside, a scent to this day she associates with safety. She also remembers being greeted by the unbearably kind face of a woman not much older than she is right now, and how that same woman nursed her through the night so patiently and with such gentle care that she wept in her arms until she passed out.

That is why she was at the shelter tonight. To at long last pay it forward in honor of Emma Morrison and all of the other men and women who filtered through her shattered life during her brief stay at Central Covenant Emergency Shelter. After all they did to piece her back together into some semblance of a human being, a herculean feat Laurel still doesn’t understand how they accomplished, the least she can do is help out around the holidays at a place that is doing the same thing for people just like she used to be. People who have been chewed up and spat out by the world, whose loved ones have left them by choice or via the grave, who have nothing and no one to care for them during the one season per year everyone should have someone. Even a wretch like her.

One day she will tell Dinah all of this, because there hasn’t been any one else in her life since Emma that made her want to talk about her past, to air out her anguish, to vent her immeasurable pain. Dinah makes her want to, though, and not just because Dinah has proven herself trustworthy but because Dinah had the audacity to get to know Laurel for no other reason than for Laurel’s sake. Against all objective logic, Dinah chose Laurel, and continues to over and over again. Nobody else has done that since her Ollie and her Daddy died. So there will come a day she will sit Dinah down and divulge the ugly truth behind her radically abrupt spurt of holiday volunteerism. But not today. Especially not on Christmas. Talking about those dark days would sully something precious that has been building between them tonight. Something Laurel can already feel slipping away from her, which causes her to react with her typical knee-jerk abrasiveness.

Lids narrowing in accusation, she pins Dinah down with a cold stare. “You were the one who followed me there. Worried I was about to dive head first into the evil end of the pool again?” Still on the defensive, she squeezes the mug between her hands more tightly to rein in her flaring temper. She hadn’t meant to jump down Dinah’s throat, it’s just lashing out is her default response to emotional upset. Once she told Felicity empathy was a work in progress – well, it is one of many works in progress in her life, coping mechanisms included.

To her credit, Dinah does not take the bait other than to calmly reply, “Of course not.” A pointed look from Laurel, replete with an arched brow, inspires Dinah to amend herself with a shy shrug and cute shrug of her shoulders. “Okay. Maybe a little. Mostly I was curious. You pawned a very important case off on an A.D.A. at the last minute, so I thought I’d find out why.”

Laurel does not understand the reasoning. At all. “You have history with Martinez. I thought you’d be fine working with him while I took some evenings for myself during the holidays.”

For the first time all night, Dinah becomes visibly upset. Her nostrils flare, the muscles in her arms and shoulders tense, and her eyes narrow sharply. “Well, you figured wrong. We worked that case together for over two months, Laurel. You should have seen it through instead bailing on me!”

Taken aback, Laurel returns her mug to the tray. Of all the things for Dinah to get her panties in a wad about, it’s this? As far as Laurel knows, Dinah and Martinez get along swimmingly. They have worked several cases together since Laurel assumed her doppelganger’s duties as District Attorney and have only returned glowing praises about the other in both verbal and hard copy reports. Hell, they’ve even gone out for casual drinks a time or two and had a swell time, which irritated Laurel more than it should have considering she only recently retrieved her attraction to Dinah from the realm of impossible dreams.

Strangely enough, it was working on this case so closely that made her reconsider whether her assessment of Dinah’s sexuality was as reliable as she initially assumed. Maybe that’s why she’s so perturbed. Maybe she thought the same about me? I mean, I wasn’t exactly waving my bi flag for all to see. What if working this case together has opened her eyes the same way it has mine? What if…

Going any further down that road without context is so dangerous Laurel veers a sharp turn on the nearest on-ramp leading to attaining what she needs with a sudden desperation that is as terrifying as it is exciting.

“Okay...what’s this really about?” she poses, daring Dinah to try and finagle herself out of giving an honest answer.

“I just told you...” Laurel waves off Dinah’s sad attempt at deflection as if batting away a pesky fly. “Yeah, yeah. You told me why you were curious as to my so-called pawning off of the Ace Chemical case. I couldn’t help but notice, though, that you’re truly upset about it. And not for the specified reason. This has nothing to do with your investment in this case. Or mine for that matter.”

“Is that so?”

Dinah’s brows shoot up so sharply it feels as if they’re about to clash with her hairline. How did this conversation turn on her so quickly? She’d meant to get Laurel to confess that she dropped the case because her work at the shelter during the holidays had become too important for her to abandon, that she has finally found a purpose for that heart she’s kept so safely guarded with a charming misanthropy she wields like a sword and shield to repel any who seek entry. Only halfway through the sentence it turned into accusation as the abandonment Dinah felt – and yes, she knows that’s irrational; but Laurel makes her irrational, okay! – superseded that initial noble goal. Deep down, she knows Laurel stepping away from the case only hurt her because it meant they wouldn’t be spending any more late nights in each other’s offices or in Laurel’s apartment working into the wee hours of the morning. There would be no more sipping on coffee and chatting about sports during short breaks, no more furtive glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking, no more of their shoulders and hips brushing together as they huddled over a report they’ve both read a dozen times looking for potential weaknesses or loopholes in the prosecution the defense might exploit, and no more excuses to touch Laurel because she’s right there and available and one hundred percent engaged in their hypnotizing dynamic.

Dinah was aggrieved because she wants more of all that, craves it like a drug, yearns for it like a forlorn lover whose partner has been out of reach for far too long. She is afraid that without a legitimate professional excuse to continue this closeness they’ve developed it will wither on the vine and die before ever bearing fruit. And that hurts her, makes her chest and throat physically constrict and her heart ache painfully to the point she feels tears of sheer despair well up from within her very soul. If she cared to examine that phenomenon with any degree of conviction, she knows she would invariably uncover the root cause to be a four letter word that she simply cannot be the one to say first. There is far too much on the line for that, and not just for her but for Laurel, who has probably been hurt more than Dinah has.

And of course Laurel took the opportunity to, in a matter of heartbeats, dissect Dinah’s outburst and arrive at the same conclusion she has. Sometimes the woman’s perceptiveness is downright infuriating.

“From my point of view it is,” Laurel replies with complete confidence. All of the sudden, those spectacular green eyes lose all hints of vulnerability and instead resemble those of a hawk who has zeroed in on her prey. That prey being Dinah. Which sends a jolt of excitement through Dinah’s veins.

Refusing to back down an inch, Dinah harrumphs. “Well, then, since you’re such an expert in the subject of my motives, why don’t you enlighten me as to what they were?”

Laurel shoots her a warning glance that is not so much threatening as out of concern. Dinah doesn’t quite know what to make of it until Laurel responds, then she understands that the concern is for them both.

“You sure you wanna go down this path? ‘Cause there’s no going back once we do.”

Dinah has never been more sure of anything. Four hours ago she would have taken the out being dangled so tempting in front of her. But four hours ago she hadn’t seen Laurel disarmed of the sword that is her double-edged tongue and disrobed of the impenetrable armor that protects a soft underbelly Dinah would wager has been exposed for none asides from Quentin in a very long time. Four hours ago she hadn’t seen Laurel glowing under the adulation of people who clearly care for her as much as she does them. Four hours ago she hadn’t witnessed Laurel giving heartfelt hugs to homeless folks who weren’t the cleanest or the best smelling and engaging them with a mega-watt dimpled smile that actually reached her eyes as she wished them a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and meant every last word. Four hours ago she hadn’t held Laurel’s hand and realized it felt more right in hers than anyone’s ever has – and that includes Vince. Four hours ago she was not ready to trust Laurel with her heart, because believe it or not she is not as strong as everyone makes her out to be.

But that was four hours ago. Now, things are different. Much different. In such an astonishingly brief window of observation she has seen Laurel express attributes she knew were there along just waiting for the right moment to be unfurled and has at the same time been given a glimpse at a potential future that is so beautiful it takes her breath away. All she needs is for Laurel to make the first move. And if that happens, Dinah is ready and willing to meet her halfway.

Until then, however, she has to maintain the pretense of ignorance, and not just for her sake. Like a skittish dog who has been ritually abused only to be rescued by some compassionate soul, Laurel will need to feel like she is in control of the progression of their relationship or she might panic and bolt. Some might see that as an obstacle they could not overcome, but Dinah is not one of those types. Pride within intimacy has never been her problem. Adaptability is her strength. Take charge or be submissive, so long as she is being shown proper love and respect she can cut either direction depending on the mood. With Vince she liked being a little domineering because he could take it. He had this sixth sense for when she wanted to wear the pants and when she needed him to take the reins. It seems that with Laurel, the sixth sense belongs to her. Maybe time will bear out a different result, and if so she is eager to experience the journey, but if not she is just as happy to be for Laurel what Vince was for her. Hell, it might even be the change of pace she didn’t even know she needed.

For now, though, she can just tell that she’s going to have to give a little bit more than she’s used to, bend a little more readily so that this new, fragile, incredibly thrilling development between them doesn’t break right out of the box.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrows her eyes dubiously. “Pssh. You act as if your theory is going to blow my damn mind or something.”

“Maybe it is,” Laurel says matter-of-factly, then softens almost imperceptibly. “Maybe it’s already blown mine and I’m just trying to make sure you’re ready for the fallout.”

Internally, Dinah is squealing like a school girl whose crush is just about to make her dreams come true. She has honestly not felt this way in so long she can’t remember the last time. Externally she utilizes her many years of training, both from the military and the police academy, to maintain a neutral expression.

“Don’t go pulling punches on my account. Not now. One of the reasons I like spending time with you is because you give it to me straight. So if you have something to say, say it.”

Laurel nods, then does not hesitate to accommodate Dinah’s command. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Here she pauses briefly, inhales deeply, lets it out slowly, then squares her shoulders before launching into her speech. “So...I think that me handing the case off to Martinez means our collaboration ended earlier than scheduled. I think that hurt you, and way more than you could have predicted. I will concede that you might not understand why that is, exactly. Or if you do, you’re too scared to admit it.”

Getting hot. Keep going. Figuring Laurel might need a bit of encouragement to see this through all the way, Dinah decides to inject a bit of a challenge. Laurel always responds well to those…

“I’m not afraid of anything. Especially a loud-mouthed bean pole like you.”

Laurel’s grin tells Dinah her tactic worked like a fucking charm. She gets herself a well-deserved mental pat on the back as Laurel scoots closer rather than reeling away as most would.

“Getting defensive. I hit a nerve, I see. Don’t worry, you didn’t offend me with that cute little barb. In fact, you just proved my point.”

“Which is?” C’mon. You’ve come this far. Just a little further...

“That you like me.”

Score! 1-0 in favor of Drake. I’m liking the direction this is going more and more by the second.

To really sell her being utterly dense of what is going on here and that Laurel is the one in charge, Dinah furrows her brow in confusion. “Come again…?”

A daring hand hovers over Dinah’s arm, then a long finger begins trailing down the underside of her forearm, which is still bared due to her having neglected to roll her sleeves back down. The touch of tapered nail scores a line of fire into her flesh, leaving behind a trail of heat so intense Dinah would not be shocked to discover on the morning that the line has not faded. The thought draws her eyes down to the tattoo of a flock of birds on the outside of Laurel’s right index finger. The sight elicits an electric buzz low in Dinah’s belly.

Unbidden, she imagines lying on her side upon a reclined chair, Laurel sitting next to her and holding her hand as a carefully selected artist etches the finishing touches into a custom design upon the skin high up on her left rib cage – the side closest to her heart - that appears to be a laurel wreath bisected by a knight’s lance. The image does things to Dinah that cannot account for. Never before has she been stricken with the impulse to get such an intimately personal tattoo to join her Marine Corps insignia, as if she subconsciously is already harboring a desire to be branded as Laurel’s woman.

Shit! Dinah shudders as the image dissolves, leaving her excited and frightened and a little turned on all at once. Thankfully, her return to the present is timely, as she glances up just in time to receive Laurel’s languid response.

“You heard me. You like me. And not just because I keep it so real for you.” Lifting her finger from Dinah’s arm, Laurel slides her hand down until her palm slides into place against Dinah’s. Just like at the shelter, their fingers thread together as if designed to be mated. The expression on Laurel’s face then turns decidedly emotional. “You care about me. For me. Not just because I look like someone you used to love or am a useful ally because of my job, my kickass ninja skills, or my meta powers. In spite of all the hurt between us, you see something in me worthwhile.” She ducks her head, looks up at Dinah through her long lashes. “I can tell because it’s the same way that I care for you.”

Dinah exhales sharply as if punched, just without all the consequential pain. This is it. It’s really happening. All of the tension that has built up since their eyes met across the crowded cafeteria at the shelter has come to a percussive crescendo. On Christmas Eve of all days. Is this my present? Is this what I’ve waited all year for? All my fucking life for? And not even known it ‘til now? Hell yes it is! How she knows, she can’t say, nor would she at the risk of killing the magic. Some things are better left assigned to the mysterious and fickle hands of fate. And since said hands seem to be favoring her tonight, Dinah is more than happy to surrender this one without a fight.

“Laurel...are you saying what I think you are?” she asks after tipping up Laurel’s chin.

Knowing instinctively that this is the moment, the one that will define the rest of her life, Laurel braces herself and summons up every last ounce of her courage. For too long she has pined secretly over Dinah, often times secretly even to herself. There was ample reason, to be sure, but all of those seem to have been rendered moot by whatever Christmas magic is operating to give her the one thing she has wanted more than all else since an audacious, slightly self-righteous, lionhearted woman kept her from murdering a federal judge after she bared her heart on behalf of someone she will always love and was cruelly shot down.

That day Dinah saved more than the life of one heartless judge, she saved Laurel’s too. That was the singular event, the axial minute, the pivotal hour that made her believe she could actually make a go of this good guy shit the other Laurel draped around neck like a cloak of calling. Quentin had started her down this path and his death had kept her upon it by a thread most days. But if Dinah hadn’t gone out of her way when she didn’t have to and all but told Laurel she believed it was possible for her to be redeemed, none of this would be possible. Before then, a backslide was inevitable.

And so Laurel mentally buckles up and floors the gas pedal, if for no other reason than she owes Dinah the truth. Come what may.

“If you think I’m saying every time I’m close to you my heart starts racing like it’s going to jump out of my chest, then yes,” she says, investing her heart into her words as possible never before. She squeezes Dinah’s hand a bit harder, willing her to hear and understand that none of what she is hearing is bullshit, that every last syllable is being wrenched from the bottom of what’s left of her heart. “If you think I’m saying I think about you constantly, then yes. If you think I’m saying I’ve never met anyone like you who makes me feel all the crazy, amazing, scary things you make me feel, then yes. If you think I’m saying I daydream about what it would feel like to hold you, kiss you, and wake up with you in my arms, then hell yes to that, too. Truth is, I’ve felt this way for a while now. I think it started that day outside the Courthouse when you stopped me from doing something incredibly stupid. The way you looked at me…I couldn’t remember the last time anybody looked at me that way, and all I knew was I wanted more. These past few months, I’ve done everything I can to insinuate myself into your life because for whatever twisted reason, I’m drawn to you, and I just can’t seem to help myself.”

For an unbearable few seconds, Dinah says nothing, just sits there staring at Laurel while clenching her hand so hard that Laurel starts to lose feeling in her fingers. Dread rears its ugly head shortly thereafter.

Oh, God. Have I blown it? Have I scared her away? Did I read this all wrong? I’m gonna lose her. Fuck! No, no, no...

“Wow. I, uh...wow.”

When Dinah manages that breathless response, it doesn’t inspire much confidence in Laurel that the panic clawing at her chest and clogging her throat are an overreaction. At this point, addled as her brain is, all she can think of is that she needs to backtrack as quickly as possible and salvage their friendship.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

“No!” Dinah’s interruption is a mini explosion that startles Laurel so badly she jumps. “Just...stop right there. That was a lot to take in at once, but not in a bad way.”

The sensation of relief that washes over Laurel is nothing short of blissful. All of that anxiety might have been for nothing after all. If so, that means Dinah does feel the same as her. And if that is true, it means they might actually make a go of this. There is so much on the line here, so much to lose, that the thought is almost terrifying. Almost. An overpowering urge to kiss those hypnotically plump lips of Dinah’s is overriding all other considerations.

With her heart in her throat all of a sudden, Laurel runs her thumb along the back of Dinah’s hand and is pleased to see Dinah shiver in response. “Really?”

“Really.” Dinah smiles crookedly. “Turns out you’re a pretty smart cookie, Lance. Your theory may be more of a fact. Working with you on this case has been amazing. You’ve been amazing. And I know I shouldn’t, but I want to be close to you, Laurel. Closer, even. So much closer.”

That last bit is hardly more than a whisper, which Laurel hears clearly due to their heady proximity. A frisson of pure joy runs down her body because that is the exact same thing she wants. And not just metaphorically. Right now she wants to be closer physically, too, which has some of her old spunk reappearing.

“How much closer, Dinah?” she asks, eyes hooded, nostrils flaring to indulge in the scent of coconut and jasmine that is uniquely Dinah. She inches forward, drawing their heads and upper torsos ever closer. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure there’s some mistletoe in the vicinity I could scrounge up if I need to. You know, if you need an excuse to ask for a kiss.”

Dinah taps her index finger against her chin a couple times, feigning pretending to weight the need for such measures. “Hmmm.” Then she shakes her head gently as her lips slide into an impish smile. “Nah. Direct is more my style.”

“A woman after my own heart. Which, incidentally, is one of the many reasons I love you.” Laurel gasps aloud the instant that very heavy phrase slides off her tongue. She hadn’t meant to say it. “I...I‘m so sorry. That just slipped out.”

But Dinah does not appear shocked or appalled or angry or anything negative really. Instead, she is still smiling as she leans in, her head tilting a fraction as their noses nearly come into contact. They are so close now Laurel can smell Dinah’s breath, sweet with hints of gingerbread and eggnog, as she speaks. “It’s okay. No need to apologize. I liked it.”

“You did?”

“Mmhmm. Say it again, please.” An emphasis is added when Dinah nuzzles the tips of their noses together.

Laurel has never felt so warm and alive. And there is no way in hell that she would refuse that request, even if she had a gun to her head. She can think no better way to die than professing her love for Dinah Drake.

“Dinah.” She pauses, breathes deep, then opens up her heart and lets all of the repressed affection for this incredible woman spill out in three little enormous words. “I love you.”

Heart in her eyes, Dinah responds with every bit as much emotion. “Laurel. I love you, too.” She then nibbles her lip affectedly, head tilting a bit further. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, you may. Any time you wish,” Laurel says, her heart thudding in her chest as though it has been replaced by a Pamplona bull.

Dinah does not waste any time. Holding Laurel’s gaze, she leans in until their lips are ever-so-lightly together, lets Laurel adjust and brushes them together from side-to-side until Laurel loses containment upon a high-pitched mewl that tears free from her throat, making her sound like a kitten being teased too long with the milk it so desperately craves. Lips curling into a smile, Dinah stops the teasing at last and seals their lips together. It’s their very first kiss, and it feel is so indescribable, so incredibly wonderful that Laurel’s brain short circuits. In that moment, she is reduced to pure sensation, from the tingling of her lips as Dinah gently sucks upon them to the fire coursing through her veins, burning away every last vestige of doubt, fear, and anxiety over whether or not they might be ruining something irreplaceably precious and over whether or not she will ever deserve however much love Dinah is willing to expend upon her. None of that matters when with one kiss

When Dinah pulls away a few seconds later, she hums in appreciation of what has just happened. And then her eyes begin dancing merrily. “Just for future reference, was that little Wesleyan promise you made my Christmas present? Infinite kisses?”

Laurel chuckles at the reference she actually understands. They don’t have The Princess Bride on Earth-2, which is a crime in and of itself, but thankfully Dinah was kind enough to introduce her to one of this world’s classic romantic comedies. Which was the reason she used that phrase. How Wesley felt about Buttercup is pretty much exactly how she feels about Dinah. Hopelessly devoted. Willing to do anything and everything for her. Willing to kill for her, and if she must, die for her. That said, now is not the time for such declarations.

“I actually was going to give you a Colt CQBP,” she says, smirking because she knows how much of a gun nut Dinah is. “But now I’m thinking I like your idea better.”

“Ooo! How did you know I wanted one of those? God, that’s so tempting. I think I agree with you, though. The kisses sound like a much better deal.”

Laurel reacts accordingly, hands going to her chest as if flattered. Because she is. Dinah turning down a gun for her kisses is a pretty big statement. Almost as big as Ollie rejecting a new, spiffier bow in favor of his wife’s smooches.

“Oh, my. I’ve got a sweet talker on my hands. Are you gonna make me regret...”

With a growl, Dinah interrupts the spiel Laurel was about to launch into about giving Dinah a brand new avenue of attack with which to get her way.

“Shut up, woman, and give me more of what I really want.”

“My God, you are so demanding.” Laurel caps off the comment with dimpled grin.

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” says Dinah, who then without warning surges forward to claim Laurel’s lips in a searing kiss with none of the tentative nature of the first.

After some indeterminate amount of time exploring one another on the couch with eager lips and combative tongues and adventurous hands, they draw apart reluctantly, their lips breaking contact with a satisfying smack. As she leans away from the sole source of her current inundation with unadulterated bliss, Laurel inadvertently glances up at the clock only to note that it is, in fact, five minutes past twelve. Christmas Eve is officially over, which can only mean one thing.

Reaching out with her left hand, she tenderly cups Dinah’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dinah.”

Burrowing into the embrace, Dinah’s answering smile is one for the ages. “Merry Christmas, Laurel.”

Which it most certainly is. In fact, it will turn out to be the most Merry Christmas Laurel has ever had. Until next year, that is, when she wakes up with a gloriously naked and happily sated Dinah sleeping soundly sprawled atop her. Or the next year, where she awakens to a very frisky Dinah kissing and licking up the length of her inner thigh and doesn’t stop until arrival at the Promised Land. Or the year after that when they are engaged and spend an unbelievably awesome Christmas with Sara and Ava back in 18th century at the winter home of the legendary Carolus Rex of Sweden. Or the year after that, the best yet, when her present is little stick with two pink lines.

Some might say Merry Christmas as a perfunctory salutation to friends and family, but not Laurel. She means it every time she says it. And how can she not? Dinah makes every Christmas a merry one for her.

#dctv #arrow #arrow fanfic #fanfic #dinah drake #laurel lance #dinah x laurel #laurel x dinah #aka Dinahmite!#or:#dinahsiren #christmas

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csforscience-blog · 7 years ago

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When You Wish Upon a Star

Post Season 7 AU. Based on my theory that the Wish Realm wasn't actually created by a wish, rather Emma's wish had transported her to an alternate universe and the actual Princess Emma from that realm was kidnapped.

After the curse is broken and he is sent back to his realm in search of a cure, Wish Hook finally meets the blonde woman who has haunted his dreams. Because in every world, in every time soul mates find each other. RATED T. (Now on ff and ao3)

"The King and Queen are dead."

He expected chaos when he returned. The other version of Regina and the Swan girl had left the kingdom in shambles with King Charming and Queen Snow to be mourned and young Prince Henry confused and orphaned. No one understands that Princess Emma wasn't actually their princess. They watched her grow up, they saw her rule. In fact the people of Killian's realm do not think they are just the product of a wish. Neither does he. He is just as real as his younger counterpart.

So is his daughter, the one true thing that matters in his life. And yet as Henry Mills and Cinderella broke the curse in Hyperion Heights, he could not go to her and tell her how much he loves her, to tell her he's sorry that his cursed self was not there for her. He could not hug her as Henry did with Lucy, Cinderella and Regina, not the way Zelena did with Robin. Not the way the more superior version of himself did when he arrived with his lovely wife and their young brown haired daughter with green eyes in his arms. He envied the other version of himself as the younger man kissed the Swan girl and held his own daughter close.

No Killian could not walk within ten feet of his teenage daughter. He could only look at her from a far and hope that that look was good enough to tell her how much he felt.

He left her a note before he left, saying that he would do anything and everything to get back to her with a cure for his poisoned heart.

Not that he is back, however, he doesn't know where to start.

Prince Henry has put a strict ban on magic after witnessing his grandparents demise, so acquiring any magic would become a real adventure in itself. Killian does have a lead though, courtesy of the Swan girl and the Mills Sisters, and with his newly rejuvenated look he can avoid any bounty on his head, even pretend to be someone else. The item he is looking for is white magic and it is said that a noble has come to possess it and has been using it to cure ailments at a price. This information has been well hidden, known as only rumors to the public, but Killian knows better.

And its not as if he has any choice. He is a desperate man and desperate men are willing to fight for what they want.

The journey to the nobleman's fort is a long one. It is deep within the forest, on a jagged path that seems to go nowhere. Killian holds onto the rook in his pocket as he urges his horse through the deadly route, hoping that this lead is not as much a dead end as it seems.

Finally the fort comes into view. It looks to be an abandoned military warehouse as it is smaller than he expected and lacking any windows. An eerily familiar tower that reaches the heavens is the only part of the structure that has a window. Killian doesn't stare at it too long, wretched memories of another tower invading his mind.

Guards in dark uniforms meet him at the door, frisking him for weapons and taking his horse before slowing him to step into the door. Inside it is just as dark, with silver and pewter bringing shine to the otherwise dull and empty room. An unnecessarily large oak table sits in the center of the room with papers and books littered across it. A man, no older than Killian appears, sits at the table, his face looking stern and bored as an elderly woman stands in front of him pleading for him to here him out.

"Please, Baron Von Rothbart! I beg of you. My daughter is on her death bed."

Killian flinches at the old woman's words, his mind immediately jumping to Alice and what he would do if she were ever in that position.

"The terms are quite simple, Madame." Rothbart states, bored. "I provide you with the white cure and you provide payment. You have failed to procure the desired sum and therefore I cannot help you."

"Please, Sir! It's all I have. Have mercy! She is only 18!"

"You knew the deal. You failed to honor it." Rothbart snaps, growing impatient. "And in doing so, you failed your dear daughter."

Hook's throat tightens. He knows he is carrying a small fortune but he only has a little more than what the woman is offering. She wails, collecting her gold back into a pouch with shaky hands and is dragged away by one of the guards.

"You." Rothbart says, not bothering to look at him, his eyes glued to the parchment he is writing upon. "What is your business here?"

"I seek a cure for a poisoned heart." Killian says in a firm voice.

"Hmm... Don't we all." The menace sneers, looking up at him. He's handsome but with wicked harsh features that would make any woman cower. "What I am interested in, is what you have on your person, pirate."

"Two-hundred gold pieces." Killian growls. "Which can be yours once I have the cure." He plays with his hook, drawing Rothbart's attention to it, and does not dare break eye contact with Rothbart, refusing to show fear.

"Luckily for you that just meets the price for my cure." Rothbart motions to a guard who approaches bearing an open chest containing 3 vials of white glowing liquid. He picks one up and hands it to Killian.

"This will cure a poisoned heart?" He asks warily.

"It cures all. It's white magic in its purest form. Now the payment if you will."

Killian hands him the pouch of gold. "If this doesn't work. If this is a sham, I will be back."

"I don't doubt it, Captain." Rothbart says counting the good. "But I think you will find yourself satisfied with the product."

"What's this bloody made of anyway?" Hook pockets the vial.

"The purest magic: True love. A savior for all." Rothbart chuckles wickedly. "Now unless you want anything else, I suggest you be on your way, pirate."

Killian glares at the man but says nothing, turning around to the doors.

I'm on my way, Alice. He thinks

The guards let him be as he mounts his steed and rides towards the exit. As he enters the woods however, he hears sobbing to his right. The odd woman from before is crouched down crying on the ground.

"Milady..." Killian begins.

"Two blasted coins." She says. "I was off by two coins. And now my daughter will die." She wipes her eyes and looks to the fort. Hook chokes up, feeling the weight of the vial burning a hole through his chest. "I thought that because he has an endless supply of white magic that he would be lenient."

"Endless?" He perks up. "What do you mean endless?"

"He has access to a pure creature. The embodiment of true love itself. He drains it of its magic and makes profit off of it to those desperate enough for an all cure." She sniffs. "I sold everything I had. But it still wasn't enough for the Baron."

Bringing his fingers to his brow he sighs loudly, once again he is going to fail her. Some father he is. But looking at the sobbing old woman he can't help but pity her. No. Alice would want this.

"Give this to your daughter." The woman stares at him in shock as he hands her the vial of glowing white. "Go on. Save her."

"Oh thank you, kind sir!" The woman sobs, in relief instead of despair. She quickly reaches under her cloak to the pouch of coins attached to her belt, but he puts his hand up to stop her.

"No, keep your money."

"But why? What about your ailment?"

"As much as it pain me, your daughter's life is worth more. I will find another way." He sighs.

"May Athena bless you, sir." She cries in delight, taking the vial from him. Ready to dash away, she stops a moment and turns back towards him seeing his gaze upon the fort. "I can only guess what you plan to do, but beware. They say the Baron holds power unlike anything else."

"Thank you ma'am." Killian smiles sadly, watching her scurry away into the darkness of the forest.

He leads his horse off the path and ties her to a tree, loading his person with weapons. He will not leave this fort without a cure. He will not.

Killian approaches the fort once more, this time as carefully and quietly as possible. As far as Rothbart and his men know, Killian got what he wanted and was on his way, and maintaining that pretense is more than favorable. His guards don't look as intimidating as they should. One is leaning against the wall by the door yawning away while the other kicks stones around. The problem is that they are by the main and, by the looks of it, only door. The entrance.

But like a bright star shining light in the darkness and guiding sailors through the vast sea, a white glow emanates from above. It draws Killian's attention to the tower where a white light flashes magically... magic... White magic!

That must be where the wretch keeps his source of white magic and if Hook can get his hands on it, he can cure his poisoned heart. The only problem is getting to it...

Scaling walls is not as easy as it looks. Despite Killian's experience doing so and the gift of a more limber form, its still tricky. Unlike Rapunzel's tower, the walls of this fort are of smoother stones that are more compact together, making it difficult to find a foot hold nor pull himself up. It makes the entire thing trickier, slowing him down, increasing the chances that someone might catch him trying to break in. The guards are thankfully unaware of his misdeed, sharing a bottle between them. Bad form, he thinks, although their bad luck is what's aiding him on his quest.

The only way that he can gain entry to this place is through the window at the highest tower. Of course that would be the only way in, he snorts, heaving himself up with his hook.

It takes some to finally reach the windowsill, his muscles protest as he heaves himself up one last time. With his forearms on the ledge and foot planted against it he jumps in through the window, his blue eyes immediately scan the small room it reveals. It is plain and matches the rest of the fort, but the most striking difference is the almost home-like and cozy appeal to it, with a lounge chair against the wall and several pillows propped up upon it and a slate gray woolen blanket at the foot of it. There are several art supplies at a small table and papers with intricate drawings of the sky, sea, buttercups and swans. There is something bright about this room and it has nothing to do with the color scheme.

Killian slowly traverses across, looking for vials of white magic. It has to be here, he saw the white glow come from this room, but there’s no sign of any magic, not even a speck of fairy dust, it is just an empty room. He sits by the table hoping that the sketches may provide some insight to what the magical source may be. It is white magic, so it isn’t likely to be dangerous, however all magic comes with a price as he has come to learn, so he peruses the area with caution.

Some scuffling can be heard coming from the door a few feet away from him. His brain switches into high alert and he quickly finds a place to hide behind the head of the lounge chair, his hook and sword at the ready, The disturbance grows louder. It’s a combination of metal colliding and feet stomping and muffled voices that become crystal clear as the door is flung open.

“There, there, now my darling.” Rothbart’s voice cuts through the air. “That wasn’t so bad. Maybe next time you’ll be less resistant. You know your efforts are futile, why do you still fight me?”

A smack echoes through the room followed by a whimper.

“You silly creature!” The terror roars. “You could have it all! Everyone you love is dead. No one will come to save you.” The whimpering intensifies “Either you learn to be more pliant, more willing, or you’ll remain in this tower for eternity.”

“I will never submit to you.”

Killian almost jumps out of his skin at the sound of that voice. He knows it so well, a siren’s call within his dreams, a taunting nightmare of what he could have had if fate had altered her course. But as he peers from his hiding place, he sees the unmistakable golden waves over slim shoulders of a woman crouched onto the cold floor.

“I will never marry you. I will never willingly give you my magic. I will never love you, Rothbart. You are a monster.”

“I may be a monster, Princess, but you are weak and have no other choice. I will get what I want sooner or later.” With that, Rothbart spins on his heels and marches out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a bang, followed by the sound of a lock clicking into place.

Soft cries begin to fill the small space, finally drawing Killian out of his shock. How is she here? Was there another curse? Another wish gone wrong? How can she be back, especially here in this wretched place? He had just left her and his other self back at Hyperion Heights with Henry and the rest of his family. She’s the one who told him to come here! So how was she here? And the condition that she is in? No woman in her position should be exposed to such environments.

“Swan?” Killian croaks, emerging from his hiding place.

She turns around quickly and stares back in silence, giving him a chance to examine her. She’s a little different. Her golden hair is matted, part of it still in a braid that seems like it was done in a haste days ago. Her red jacket has been replaced by a ragged dark linen dress and torn brown cloak. The once glowing skin is now pale and her cheeks are slightly hollowed. Her muted green and wet eyes continue to dash across his figure, her dry rose colored lips parted in awe.

“Love what happened? How has Rothbart come to capture you? Where is Killian?” He takes a step towards her, stopping as she retreats. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Who- who are you?” she croaks.

“You- you don’t remember who you are, love?” His shoulders sag. So it is another curse, or some sort of memory loss that is clouding her mind. I guess she won’t be able to help me, bloody hell! He rubs his temples to relieve the ache that begins to simmer.

“I know who I am!” She says defiantly. “I am Princess Emma of Misthaven, heir to Queen Snow and King David, mother of the crown Prince Henry. Who are you and what do you want?”

“Easy, love.” He puts his hand and hook up in surrender. She gasps at the sight, and backs up even further. “Relax love. I am not here to hurt you!”

“Then why are you here?” She hisses. “Come to see what Rothbart’s special treasure was? Come to steal my magic too?!”

“Your magic?” Killian exclaims. Everything starts to make even less sense then it did before. How could she be the source of magic when Rothbart’s special potion has been around for over a year? In fact the rumors claim he gained power right around the time that the Swa... No.

“Love, how long have you been a prisoner here?”

“I am not your love!”

“Please, your highness, answer the question.”

“Three years.”

Three years. Three years ago he encountered Emma Swan along with the woodcutter in the forest. Three years ago he foolishly attempted to be her hero and was thrown on his sorry arse with a blast of magic, and woke up on the deck of the Jolly feeling like utter shite. Two years ago, he had heard Henry’s voice through the magic bottle on his person calling for Emma Swan, Regina and Captain Hook. Two years ago Lady Tremaine granted him his younger self’s physique and brooding appeal as he attempted foolishly to con Emma into believing he was the man she fell in love with, the man who’s child she was carrying.

They told him he was part of a realm created by a wish, that he was not real. But he felt real, he knew he was real. He knows he is real. Could the lost woman in front of him be his princess?

“How did Rothbart capture you?” He croaks.

“I don’t know, a cloud of smoke surrounded me and I ended up deep in the woods. Rothbart found me and offered me a place to stay. He knew I had magic and when I tried to leave he forced these on me.” She shows him a pair of leather cuffs around her wrists. “They dampen my magic so I can’t escape, not that I knew how to use it. My parents they...” she begins to whimper. “They never wanted me to get lost in magic, they didn’t want me to become like the Evil Queen.” Her green eyes peer up at him as she takes a brave step forward. “Please, sir... is it true? Are they really dead?”

“Aye, love. I am sorry, truly.”

She falls to the ground and weeps gently. He does not think, the instinct to protect her overriding all else, and he sinks down to her level, putting a comforting arm around her, bringing her into a tight embrace. She melts into his touch, burrowing her face into his neck as he rubs her back soothingly. He doesn’t understand his need to hold her as she mourns, but he vows to have a chat with Regina when he returns to Hyperion Heights.

“Swa-Emma, please love. We must leave soon before Rothbart returns.”

She lifts her head to look at him confused, and as if just realizing the position they are in, untangles herself from his and backs away trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Why?” She demands, authority oozing through her. “Why would you help me? Why would I trust you?”

“I know your son.” It’s not a complete lie. He does know and is close friends with Henry, well a version of him anyway.

“My son, is an acquaintance of a pirate?” she asks in disbelief.

“Aye, Captain Killian Jones at your service.” He gives a little bow. “Now do you want to escape or not? We’ve not much time.”

She looks between him and the door behind her, worrying her lips as she contemplates. He feels a strong urge to bite the lip but then shakes himself out of that thought as she turns back to him.

“Fine. But don’t think I’m taking my eyes off of you for one second.”

“I’d despair if you did.”

They wait until Rothbart comes again to restock his magic supply. Turns out the magic dampeners not only prevent Emma from using her magic but also limit the amount he can take from her, which is only three vials worth at a time. He uses an enchanted crystal bottle which extracts magic from anything it touches and converts it into a potion. Because Emma is the product of true love, her magic is capable of combating various forms of dark magic, and the potion Rothbart is capable of extracting is thus powerful enough to cure hexes, curses and many poisons, something that make Killian’s ears perk up. He plans to steal a vial during their escape.

He doesn’t know why he is so compelled to save the Princess instead of getting what he came here for. Maybe it has to do with his his brother’s voice screaming in his head to stick to good form and save the damsel in distress. Maybe it’s the newfound compassion he acquired from being Officer Rogers. Maybe the fact that the alternate versions of themselves share true love is forcing him to feel responsible for her. Or maybe you just fancy her you daft fool!

The door handle begins to rattle as Rothbart unlocks it from the other side. Emma is sitting at the center of the room, her hands in her lap, and Killian at the other side of the door ready for her to attack. The second the Baron enters the room, Killian knocks him out with his hook, causing Rothbart to drop the enchanted bottle to the ground. Emma can’t say that she sheds a tear as it shatters into millions of tiny fragments, never to be used to harm ever again.

Killian drags the wretch’s limp form further into the room and ties him up. He looks to see the princess glaring at Rothbart but also shaking.

“Are you alright, love?”

“Yes.” She says quickly. “It’s just... I am a coward. I could have done this myself and maybe saved all of the people he was stealing from... but...”

“Hey. Do not blame yourself.” He approaches her and tilts her head up to meet him. “He won’t hurt you anymore, or anyone else for that matter. Now come on, let’s stick to the plan and get you home, aye?”

She nods and gives a kind smile back to him.

They lock the door before they leave and make sure to break the key in the lock so that it’s almost impossible for anyone to unlock it for him. There are only two guards in the entire fort. The Baron was too cheap to pay for more people and he did not need anyone else. Most feared the rumors that a deadly beast was the source of his powers and never bothered to steal from him... that is until Killian came along.

They did not expect the guards to remain too blissfully unaware for long, the two fools running up towards the pirate and princess as they began descending the long spiral staircase in the tower. Emma freezes slightly at the sight of the two burly men and Killian steps in front of her, readying his sword. She watches in complete fascination as he thwarts them, knocking them both easily to the ground with well practiced footwork and a couple of swipes of his sword and hook. She is even more impressed that he leaves them alive, falsifying all the stories she heard of pirates being evil and ruthless killers.

As he sheathes his sword, he looks up at her, giving her a once over to ensure that she is okay. He holds out his hand and she takes it without question, being lead around the two bodies napping on the steps and down towards her freedom.

When they get to the main entrance, Killian pauses, looking to the Rothbart’s large desk longingly.

“What’s wrong?” The princess asks, turning back to him.

He looks back at her and dons a well practiced smile that he has used countless times on Alice when he did not want her to share his burden of worry.

“Nothing, Princess.” He looks back at the desk. “I was thinking, maybe we should destroy the remainder of Rothbart’s stash so that he may not use it to exploit your subjects anymore.” “Good idea, Captain.” Emma says, and it’s permission enough for him to hurry behind the desk and grab the vials. There’s two of them, filled to the brim with glowing white, and he takes them from the chest they have been stored in and throws them into the brilliant fireplace.

“Good riddance.” He smiles sadly, and Emma nods in agreement. “Come, Princess, let’s get you home.”

The moon is at the highest point in the sky as they leave the fort. Killian mounts his trusty stallion and offers Emma a hand to help her up behind him. She takes it without pause and he can’t help but feel over zealous at the warmth she provides at his back, the way her soft breaths tickle the skin at his neck and the way her hands feel circled around his waist. The ride hard for a few hours until they are well out of the dark forest and into a new, less dense area of the woods. He can tell that she is tired as he halts his horse. She has been resting her head on his shoulder for the last few minutes trying to catch some shut eye, and he himself is no better, the strain in his own eyes causing a migraine to brew in the back of his head.

Emma lifts her head as he begins to dismount.

“Wh-why have we stopped?” she asks, taken his hand to follow suit.

“It’s been a long night, you need to rest.” Killian replies. “This area will do quite nicely for a short slumber. I will take first watch.”

“First watch?” she repeats confused. Her hand comes out to grip the cloak tighter.

“Aye, we should take turns keeping watch for anything that might harm us, or anyone who might have followed us out.” He starts collecting twigs from the ground, putting them in a pile near a fallen log.

“You think they might have followed us?” She asks in a small voice.

“I wouldn’t put it past the bloody sod.” Killian replies. He looks up to see her worrying her lip once more. “Darling, if they dare come across us again, I will protect you.” He assures her.

“And why would you?” She snaps. “How do you really know me?”

“Love.. I”

“And don’t say Henry sent you. I know you are lying.” She crosses her arms, just as defiant as her counterpart.

“I wouldn’t know how to begin, Swan.” Killian groans, slumping on the log.

Emma kneels in front of the pile of twigs and grabs two stones, hitting them together until a spark is born and a small flame ignites.

“You can start with why you keep calling me Swan.” She says, catching him stare at her curiously.

“Caught that did, you?” He laughs nervously.

She glares at him.

“It’s a really long story... bloody hell.” He groans.

Emma sits beside him on the log, giving him a pointed look.

“We have enough time for you to start.”

“Aye.” He sighs. He stretches his legs out in front of him. “Long story short, there are other realms similar to ours yet alternative, where we have taken different paths and ended with different futures. I encountered another realms version of you. Her name was Emma Swan.” He looks into her green eyes, trying to assess her response. She probably thinks he is crazy, delusional even, but she cracks a warm smile in return.

“Truth.” She says quietly.

“You believe me?” He asks in disbelief. Why would a royal trust him?

“Yes, I do.” Emma states firmly. “I know when people lie, it’s the only gift I have that I can actually use. So, tell me about this Emma Swan?”

“She’s a mother like you, and a princess.” She grins and he smiles back. “She’s cunning, smart, beautiful.” She blushes and licks her lips. “She’s strong, a fierce warrior.”

“Unlike me.” The princess says sadly.

“Princess, you were scared and a prisoner of a horrid man. You cannot blame yourself for your predicament.”

“I’m not just talking about that. My entire life, I have been scared in a tiny bubble in the castle. I never went out on my own adventure, I’ve never fought for anything. I don’t even know how to hold a sword. I’m a coward.” She laughs.

“No you’re not. The gods know I’ve dealt with many cowards and you don’t meet any of their criteria. You may have not been in battles but your are just as brave and strong as the other Emma.”

“You really think so?” She peers up at him in wonder, and if he did not know any better he could have sworn that she scooted closer to him.

“Aye, love.” Killian says sincerely. “And I quite fancy you from time to time... when you’re not yelling at me.” He smirks and she rolls her eyes. “if you want... I could always teach you how to use a sword.” He scratches the back of his ear.

“I’d like that, Captain.” She smiles.

“Call me Killian, your highness.”

“As long as you call me Emma.”

They stare at each other for a second more and then look away as if they were burned.

“So...” Emma begins. “When you thought I was the other Emma in the tower, you asked where Killian was... Your name is Killian, so I’m guessing the other Emma knows her realm’s version of you?”

Bloody hell...

“Erm...” His hand finds its way back to his ear. “Aye, they know each other very well.” So well that they have a daughter and another wee one along the way. “You should get some rest, love.” He says quickly, standing up and away from his doppelgänger’s true love’s doppelgänger.

“Right.” Emma raises her brow amused.

“I will wake you up in 2 hours.” He states mechanically, as if he’s reciting the Miranda rights to someone.

“Okay. Goodnight... Killian.”

“Goodnight, Emma.” END OF PART ONE

#Cs fic #mine #cs fanfic #CS AU #Captain Swan #Wish Hook #Wish Emma #CS wish world AU #Knightrook #Swan Lake AU #Officer Rogers #Killian Jones #Emma Swan

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enby-witchbitch · 7 years ago

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So You Wanna Astral Project!

I’ve been astral projecting for a long time now, and I do it at least 4 times a week, probably more. I think I have a problem. Anyway. Here are a few tips on what to do, what not to do, etc for all ya’ll trying to get into astral travel. A few of the things have links for places to find more information, ideas, and stuff.

1. You’re Captain America- get yoself a shield. I use 2 shields when I project, both protective spirals. Basically, when you’re projecting your body is left unprotected by your spirit so you need something else to protect you. Use any shield you like. I use one that protects my body from anything harmful (visualised as rose petals swirling around me- it just seemed right) and another that repels anything harmful away from me (visualised as bright lights, almost painful to look at). Sometimes, when I get bad vibes, I’ll use more and more until I feel safe. LAYER LAYER LAYER. A shield can only do one thing at a time, so if you want multiple protective actions then use more than one. You’ll know when you’ve got enough, as when you try to project you’ll feel safer.

2. Failure is ok. Honestly, I couldn’t project last night. It was hard and my brain just couldn’t get the focus and I couldn’t visualise anything. It just didn’t work, and that’s ok. Sometimes it’ll be too much for you, don’t force anything or beat yourself up over it. Stop what you’re doing, stretch your muscles and try again later. I usually wait at least until the next night (I always project at night) when I’ve found something a little too difficult. It gives me time to rest and to do some grounding.

3. You’re going into Narnia. What does that mean??- imagine a door! I spent a long time trying and trying to project into the astral realm until I realised that I simply had to open a door!! When I project, I visualise a white void full of different doors to different places on the astral realm, I walk around and find my own door or draw it to me. I turn the handle, walk through and BOOM astral realm. This can take a while and it’s hard at first, when I first tried this method I found the door, put my hand on the handle and got thrown out back into my body again. Take your time, practice and you’ll get there.

4. FFS DON’T GET LOST. When you first manage to get through the door, don’t go too far. Take your time exploring what’s around you, and anyway, it’s more fun to find every little thing that’s in the astral than just barrelling through at 100000mph and missing it. I found one of my spirit companions, A, while slowly going through this tiny patch of forest that exists in my plane. If you do go a little far, which I have done before, I looked at my wrist and found a red string wrapped around it. I followed the string back to the door. Simple.

5. Block out everything. I use white noise of a thunder storm for this, but anything will do. ‘8 Hours of’ is a good youtube channel with lots of different options for white noise. Don’t astral project for the 8 hours, but the sounds are awesome and there’s no ads that’ll interupt you.

6. Find a mirror. Not because you’re the bloody evil queen in Snow White, but because you’ll want to know what you’re astral form looks like. Go searching, use your mind’s “eye” and listen for it, you’ll know where it is. Stand in front of it and look. Don’t be afraid of what you see, your astral form might be quite different from your physical one. As someone who’s agender, my astral form is completely androgynous, but also has giant horns and 6 ENORMOUS black wings that can wrap around me and form some sort of cloak-dress-robe-thing. Yuup, it was a surprise. Just accept that this is your form, and as it’s based on your spirit, you’ll probably like it no matter what.

7. Have any deities?? You might meet them here. I worship the gaelic goddess Brighid, as well as Persephone and Hades and I’ve met them when astral projecting a few times. You can spend time with them in the astral, get to know them and even give them offerings. There is a huge area of my astral plane that is completely dead- like Pride Rock under Scar dead- and I’m currently trying to regrow it. I’ve so far grown a huge oak tree in the centre and made a pasture for Brighid as she likes to keep cattle. Hades, for some reason, wants a massive waterfall and Persephone just wants flowers- which I’ll be doing for them soon. I’ve also seen Mac Lir and Poseidon walking together off on the horizon of the ocean. I just let them do their thing.

8. Don’t upset Brendon Urie- CLOSE THE GODDAMN DOOR! You enter the astral through a door, close it behind you so that nothing gets out. When you leave, close the door extra carefully, don’t look back at it as you walk away. Close it and then leave.

9. Be careful when you’re out. When you re-enter your body it may feel weird, you might get pins-and-needles or your limbs may feel heavy or numb. Just sit or lay there for a while, give yourself time to ground and get comfortable in your body again, don’t sit up or start walking about the moment you leave the astral. Let your shields come down ONLY when you’re certain you’ve completely re-entered your body. Stretch a little and then get up. Go about your day, have a nap, go to bed, whatever you want to do.

Feel free to add your own!!!!

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shippingtheswann · 7 years ago

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MODEL BEHAVIOR A Captain Swan modern AU by @shippingtheswann for the @captainswanbigbang 2017 year!

SUMMARY: Emma is an up and coming model living in LA with her best friend Ruby. Killian is a star baseball player for the LA Dodgers. Their families are close - and they grew up together. However, what happens after not seeing each other for 6 years - when they are forced back into a situation that requires them to reconnect and explore what was once there.

RATING: Explicit

WARNING: There will be smut later in the story, some mention of violence, hard language, mention of pregnancy loss

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

A/N: WELCOME BACK EVERYONE! I am so thankful to everyone who was patient enough to wait for this story to come back. I am so sorry for the delay. I gave birth to Emilia Ann on Oct 1. I was in labor for over 20 hours and I am so thankful that I didn't need a c-section (as I almost did due to some early complications). We have been relaxing at home and even watched the first episode of the new season together last week. She is already a Captain Hook fan! But again, thank you for being patient while we got used to being home and being a family. Updated will start to happen again every Friday. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks again to my amazing artist Monica and my amazing beta reader Nicola. This story wouldn't be what it is now without them!

Special shout out to Monica @acaptainswaneternity - the artist with this story. I have loved everything she has done for me - so make sure to check her out! She made an amazing cover and the best image sets for each chapter.

Another huge shout out to Nicola @alocin209 who beta read everything and tried to keep me on target!

Can also be found on FF - Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three; Chapter Four; Chapter Five

Emma had never been an emotional person, not really. Yes, she cried when she was upset, and yes, she got angry pretty easily. She would never have classified herself as a tearful goodbye type of person though. As Mrs. Jones drove through her old neighborhood and past their old school, Emma couldn't help but be caught up in the memories that flooded her system. She never really missed home, but as the car turned down the street, bringing into view her house, a tear swelled in her eye and for the first time in almost seven years, she felt homesick.

She missed her father, brother, and yes, her mother, but she never really thought she could miss a home. It was just a house, built with wood and concrete. Yet as the large colonial crept closer, Emma couldn't help but feel a familiar pull, similar to what she felt earlier in the day when she saw Killian. It was like she had been missing something for years and never knew she had a gaping hole in her heart because of it.

As Adelaide parked the car in the Jones' driveway, Emma found her eyes looking over at her home. She pictured her parents standing at the doorway waving to the school bus as she rode off to her first day of school. It was one of the only times she could remember her mother actually being around for an important day. She remembered her father teaching her to catch a ball in the front yard, something some mean girls in school made fun of her for that year. They stopped that suddenly when she hit one of them right in the stomach, with perfect accuracy, just like her dad had taught her. She remembered waiting in the yard, under the big oak tree, for her parents to bring Henry home from the hospital.

She pictured her bedroom, where so much had happened in her life, so much that shaped who she was. She was almost positive that it would look exactly as she left it. The one thing she could count on her mother for was that she would never touch the kid's rooms. Her mother redecorated the first floor of the house at least once every five years, but she never let Emma touch her own room. Emma was sure that her poster of the Backstreet Boys was still hanging above her bed with a heart drawn around Nick's head. (Yes, she still blushed about that poster to this day, considering she did it when she was twelve, but it was something her mother wouldn't let her take down.)

"Welcome home love," Killian whispered to her as the doors to the car opened and everyone got out. She'd forgotten she was still next to him once they turned into their neighborhood, too overwhelmed by what was going on outside of the vehicle.

She was actually thankful for the break. The car ride with Killian had been awkward, to say the least. After their very high school, love struck teens make out session on the airplane, which Emma was still a bit flustered about, sitting in a car with him and his family for the thirty minute drive home wasn't something she had been looking forward to. The electricity still sizzled between them and she was secretly overjoyed each time his skin touched hers when the car would jolt.

She wasn't regretting what she had done on the plane. She couldn't regret it, but she was a bit embarrassed about it. Mostly, she was petrified that she allowed herself to get caught up in the moment and allowed herself to get into a situation where a stewardess caught her sitting on an old friend's lap, with her tongue in his mouth. Never in her life had she done something like that before. Sure, there were other models who were caught having sex on set, getting caught with drugs on planes, but she would never get caught doing those things herself. She wasn't like most models, she had a good head on her shoulders.

Yes, she was embarrassed. She was also severely turned on. She had dreamt of the way he would kiss. She used to daydream of what it would be like to kiss him. Her wildest dreams weren't even close to hitting the mark. He was skilled to say the least. His hands felt like both fire and ice against her skin. It was a feeling she never wanted to forget. No one had ever touched her in the way he touched her. She never felt that way before with anyone, not even Neal. No one had ever held her the way Killian had, and all they had done was kiss. She wanted to do it again but there was a voice in the back of her head that told her she couldn't allow it to happen again.

As Emma climbed out from the back of the car and retrieved her luggage, her parents appeared at the doorway of her home. Her father hadn't changed at all. He was still the rugged man she grew up with. He had come from humble beginnings and worked on the farm that her mother's family owned. He had always been handsome and age had only accented the features of her father's face. Her mother liked to say he was like fine wine, he only got better with age. Since marrying her mother, he had quit working on the farm in order to help her manage the family's business, but he was still a shepard at heart.

Her mother, while changed, still held herself with the same grace and confidence she always had. When Emma was younger, Mary Margaret Blanchard Nolan had gorgeous long brunette hair that Emma was always envious of. Now, her mother sported a pixie cut, which surprisingly made her mother more beautiful and graceful. She was the princess of the Blanchard corporation. While Emma's father had moved into the family business, her mother followed in the footsteps of the other women in the family; running charities and spending the family fortune. However, she had to give her mother a lot of credit as she wasn't anything like most of the women in the family. Yes, her mother planned parties and dressed in fancy clothing, but her mother was at least compassionate. The charities she ran she truly cared about and she did really love Emma, even if she did like to give Emma a hard time.

Emma quickly glanced back at the Jones' family, all of whom were greeting Killian. It looked like Liam was home and had added quite a few new members to the family. Even though she knew the neighbors were more like family, no one paid attention to her. Sucking in a deep breath, Emma walked towards her parents.

"Welcome home Emma!" Her father got to her first, pulling her into a bear hug. She breathed in deeply. She hadn't realized how much she needed a hug from her father after the past few days. Suddenly, it didn't matter that she knew a lecture from her mother was coming, it didn't matter that Neal had screwed her over and it didn't matter what had happened with Killian. All that mattered was she was home, and it felt good.

"Thanks Dad, it's good to be here," she sighed, pulling back to get a better look at him. He was tanned, and she could tell that he had been spending quite a lot of time outside, which was good for him. Emma always thought he spent too much time inside a stuffy office.

"Honey, I'm really sorry, but I actually have to run," he said, sadness peaking through his eyes. "I got a call a few moments ago from the office and I have to go in, but I promise to be home as quick as I can be."

Emma's smile faltered a bit, some worry popping back up at the thought of being left alone with her mother, but she couldn't be upset with him. He rarely would take meetings on important days or skip out on time with her, so she knew his absence must be something he couldn't get out of.

As her father moved towards his pickup truck that sat in the driveway, her mother moved to take his place. Emma was actually really surprised when her mother pulled her in for a hug instead of her more traditional kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so glad you're home Emma. Come inside, I've made lunch." Mary Margaret's voice held no lie. Emma's smile returned when it seemed that her mother really was happy to have her home. At least there wasn't any passive tones to her statement and her mother didn't say anything condescending to her right away.

"Thanks mom, I'm starving," Emma's mouth already salivating at the thought of her mother's cooking. Yes, her mother could throw a party, but she could cook up a storm as well.

"I didn't make much, but there is a grilled cheese waiting for you. Sorry it's not more, but I am trying to get everything ready for dinner tonight, plus with all the work that goes into Henry's party.." she trailed off.

"It's OK mom, grilled cheese sounds amazing," Emma offered, trying to get her mother away from what Emma assumed would be a long conversation about parties she couldn't care less about. She couldn't pass up her mom's famous grilled cheese though, so she really didn't care if her mom did go on a 30 minute tirade about the DAR or Henry's party, as long as she got that grilled cheese.

On their way inside, her mother informed her that the Jones' clan would be joining them for a large dinner celebrating that everyone was together once again. She said that Henry was over at his girlfriend's house and that she would be joining them for dinner. Her mother gave her a slight glance as she mentioned Henry's new love interest, silently telling Emma not to give the girl a hard time.

Emma had always been overprotective of her younger brother. Ever since she held him for the first time in the hospital when her mother gave birth, Emma felt a deep need to protect him from anything. He was their miracle baby. Her mother had experienced medical issues when Emma was born and doctors told them they would have issues having any other children. Seven years, a shit ton of money, and a lot of prayers later, Henry was born and Emma couldn't have been happier. She had begged her parents for a sibling for years.

Leaving Henry was the worst thing about her move to LA. She never wanted to leave Henry behind. Other than her monthly phone calls to her mother, Henry was the only person she kept in constant contact with while she was away. Sure, her father joined in on the phone calls, but she didn't talk to them as much as she did her little brother. Most of her conversations with him weren't about anything; they would send each other funny articles they found, keep each other updated on their own personal ongoings (Henry's days at school and Emma's escapades around LA, usually watered down for her brother's sake).

Thankfully, her brother never blamed for her leaving. He understood her better than anyone could ever dream of. He got her need to live her dream, he got that she didn't want to fit into a box that was already made for her. Henry always supported her, and she would always support him. She would however, be very hard on his new girlfriend. Henry deserved the best and Emma was going to make sure whoever he decided to date would be the best.

The kitchen, where Emma had eaten breakfast each morning before school, surprisingly hadn't changed. She had expected her mother to renovate the area, since the last time it was updated was a year or so after Henry was born. Yet as she stood next to the island, the same familiar smells wafted through the area and the same country blue paint of the backgrounds surrounded her.

Her mother walked around the area gathering all the food she had prepared for her daughter. Emma took her seat at the island, watching the trees sway in the breeze outside of their large kitchen window. The treehouse was still up and there was still a tire swing attached to another large oak. She had been preparing herself for changes yet she saw almost none. She wasn't quite sure what to think about the lack of changes.

"So, your flight was good? You had a chance to catch up with Killian?" her mother asked as she sat everything down in front of Emma. The woman took a seat next to her daughter and turned her whole body to actually pay attention to the conversation. Emma wasn't really sure what to think about it. She was taken aback by her mother's character change, so much so that she didn't answer at first. It took her a minute to answer.

"Ummmm…. It was good. Nothing special really, which is good for a flight. And yeah, I was able to catch up with Killian." Emma only gave her mother the quick run down, unwilling to go any further into what had happened on the flight.

"It's good you had a chance to catch up with him. Both of you have been gone for such a long time. I'm sure Addie is happy to have him back, I know your father and I are overjoyed that you are finally home," her mother beamed.

"Alright mom cut the shit, what the hell is going on? You aren't acting normal," Emma asked, not wanting this weird conversation where her mother wasn't the center of attention to continue. It wasn't what Emma was used to and it made her uneasy.

"Nothing is wrong Emma," her mother began before Emma interrupted.

"Nothing is wrong? You seriously expect me to believe that? You have never had a conversation with me that hasn't started wtih you berating my choice in career, telling me about some stupid party, or some other bullshit. So what the hell is going on?" Emma almost yelled, tired of the run around.

"Emma, your leaving was tough, on all of us," her mother began, causing Emma to roll her eyes. "Now stop that, I am trying to explain and you pulling your attitude will not help."

Emma sighed and turned to face her mother. She seemed different. Her posture, while still confident, seemed off. She didn't seem as happy as she once was.

"Thank you. Like I was saying, your leaving was hard on all of us. Especially me," her mother looked right into her daughter's eyes, with tears brimming, "Emma, I am so sorry for how I acted when you were younger. Growing up, I was always expected to behave a certain way, to become exactly what my mother was. I wanted different for you. That is why I pushed you to go to college, why I wanted you to have something to live for. I know it isn't an excuse for what I did, but it is the reason."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. Just a month ago, her mother sounded completely different. She belittled Emma's new gig and couldn't seem to understand why Emma didn't want to get a normal job. What had happened that made her all of a sudden decide to change?

"Just last month though, you were on a tirade about how my job wasn't worth my time!" Emma stated, with a bit of anger in her voice.

"It's because you are doing something you wanted to do, and truthfully honey, I was… am… a bit jealous. I never got that opportunity. I never got to do what I wanted to. Yes, I married your father, and I had you and Henry, but I never got to do what I wanted. Did you know I wanted to teach?" The question surprised Emma. She knew her mother had a passion for education, sitting on the board of three different education charities, but she never knew her mother had other dreams.

"No," Emma whispered.

"I did. When I was younger, I wanted to teach. Kindergarten actually. Your grandmother never let me follow through on those dreams. She told me that college was a waste of time, that my life was with the business and running charities. I was to do what all Blanchard women had done for years. Since you have left, I've had a lot of time to think about what I did. I pushed you to college because I never got that opportunity. I did to you exactly what my mother did to me, just different. I always wanted more for you, for you to grow and to become a strong leader. It just look me awhile to see that this, you modeling, is your passion," her mother cried, tears now streaming down her face. Her mother's hands were resting near Emma's plate, palms up, waiting for Emma to take them. Waiting for Emma to tell her that everything she had done was OK.

"Emma, I am sorry that I was so hard on you. I am sorry that I never supported you the way you deserved. You were always so head strong, so independent, just like your father. I didn't quite know how to raise you. I struggled. You were your father's daughter. You were always closer to him than you were to me. I was jealous about that as well. That is why I pushed myself further into my charities, why I missed so much. It hurt me to see you so happy with your father, but so unhappy with me. I am so sorry that I let you down Emma. I am so sorry that I was the reason you felt the need to leave. I am sorry that I made you feel that you were better off far away from home."

Emma couldn't take it anymore, so she placed her hands on her mother's and gave them a gentle squeeze. Yes, her mother wasn't the best when she was younger, but Emma always knew her mother loved her. She never thought any differently. She knew her mother had been upset about something for years, but this was the first time her mother ever opened up to her daughter. She knew it was hard for her.

"Oh mom," Emma began, scooting her chair closer to her mother, "Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry Emma. Really, I am. You have no idea how happy I am that you came home. My only wish for this trip is that you see just how loved you are here and don't stay away for this long again." Mary Margaret had never been more sincere in her life.

"It's OK mom. I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I stayed away for so long, but I can promise you, this isn't just because of you." Emma knew that now was the time to revitalize and start to mend her relationship with her mother. She had always wished she was closer with her mother and now was the chance to actually do that.

Clearly, they had both grown in the time Emma had been away. Her mother seemed to no longer be the woman she once was, who spent too much time focusing on projects instead of her daughter. Emma was no longer the scared girl who was annoyed with her mother's behaviour and couldn't wrap her head around why her attitude was so poor towards her.

It made sense to her that her mother acted the way she did. She remembered her grandmother, Ava, wasn't a horrible person. She was just someone who was raised very differently and in a different time, when women weren't in charge and who didn't really do much if they had money. Ava always instilled the importance of charity work in her daughter and wanted her daughter to take over for her when she passed. Now that Emma thought about it, she did remember her mother and grandmother having a rather loud discussion about Mary Margaret's involvement in something. In fact, now that Emma really thought about it, their conversations sounded a lot like the conversations she used to have with her mother.

It was time now to change things. That is what this trip was all about anyway. She came home to get away from Neal, to make that change, to make sure she never went back to him. She wanted to make sure that she would never be hurt like that again. So why not fix her relationship with her mother as well? Why not return to LA knowing she had someone, somewhere to turn to if things got bad again?

Emma knew deep down that part of the reason she didn't handle the situation with Neal well was because she didn't have someone, more specifically a mother, to talk to about things like this. Emma had never talked to her mother about relationships. Maybe if she had thought she could talk to her mother when she was struggling, she would have handled Killian's abrupt withdrawal differently and she knew for a fact she would have been able to handle Neal's betrayal better.

"Mom, I'm sorry too," she began, handing her mother a tissue to dry her tears, "I never really understood where you were coming from. I didn't try to understand. But, I didn't leave because of you, or at least it wasn't just because of our strained relationship. Sure, it helped me make the decision, but I didn't come home just because we didn't have the best relationship."

"Why then? Why didn't you come home? Sweetie, you could have told us anything, you know that. What happened?" It was like a huge change in her mother when she was asking Emma these questions. The woman in front of her was so different. Emma could see she truly cared about what caused Emma to stay away. She truly wanted to be there for Emma, she wanted to mend their relationship, just like Emma did.

"It's a long story mom and you still have dinner to get ready," Emma said, hoping to put off the heart to heart for a few minutes at least.

Yes, she wanted to better their relationship but at the same time, she didn't want to air all of her dirty laundry to her mom. She didn't know if she could handle telling her everything, mostly because she didn't want to relive it herself. It wasn't that she didn't want to share it, she just didn't want to have to say it.

"How about we kill two birds with one stone? I need some help finishing up dinner and I've always found it easier to talk about hard things when you are elbow deep in rolling dough," her mother smiled, giving her a wink.

Maybe this relationship with her mother will be easier to repair than she thought.

Before they actually dove into finishing dinner, Emma scarfed down her grilled cheese and took a quick shower, feeling gross from the flight. Airplane rides always did that to her, so it wasn't just because she could still feel Killian's hands on her.

During the baking of the peach pie (apple pie was forbidden in the Nolan household, thanks to her mother's horrible allergy), Emma told her mother about her senior year in school. She spilled the beans on everything. She explained how her mother's disapproval of things did help to drive her away, but she understood now why she did it and didn't blame her.

Her mother was nothing but supportive during the discussion. She laughed at appropriate times, including the fact that Emma got drunk that night, and was sympathetic to what Emma had felt at Killian's sudden disappearance. She understood why Emma felt the need to get away and even told her she would have done the same thing if her father had pulled the same stunt when they were young.

"So, this morning was the first time you've seen Killian since that Christmas?" her mother asked, making sure she got the story straight. Emma was sure that eventually Mrs. Jones would be hearing this but it didn't really bother her. And who knows, maybe having his mother yell at him would help him tell her why he just left with no explanation.

"Yeah, he promised to show up at my party but he didn't. You would have thought with both of us being in LA, we would have ran into each other, or at least seen each other's name in the papers but somehow we were able to stay invisible," Emma explained, a sad look coming over her face. They were almost done with dinner, which was good, considering it was supposed to start in thirty minutes.

Her father had gotten home a few minutes ago and Emma had never seen him as happy as he was when he saw his wife and daughter actually working together, with no bickering, and talking about Emma's past. He quickly kissed each of them hello and left them to their own accords.

"How did that go? This morning I mean?" her mother asked.

"Differently than I expected," Emma said, a blush forming on her cheeks. Her mother didn't miss the subtle change in Emma's appearance either.

"You still like him, don't you?" her mother asked with a smile.

"No, that ship has sailed," Emma lied, trying to cover up her new feelings that were building towards her neighbor.

"OK…" her mother said with a drawn out voice, "that's probably good anyways"

Emma turned to her mother, who was now wiping down the counter. The patio was made for dinner, tables surrounding it and citronella candles already lit in the center. The food was already prepared on platters and was waiting patiently for the Jones family and Henry to arrive.

"Why would you say that?" she asked.

"Well, as you probably saw earlier, Liam is also back in town, unable to pass up the opportunity to see his brother. He's brought his entire clan with him. He got married you know? Oh, to a lovely woman, and they have four kids. Well, that meant that the Jones' don't have enough room for everyone, so I offered them for us to house Killian here for his stay. He is staying in the guest room," her mother said blatantly, walking towards the door that just rang, leaving Emma stunned.

The oncoming storm that was the Jones clan coming into the Nolan's home kept Emma's worry from overwhelming her. Before she knew it, she had been given too many hugs to count, too many kisses on cheeks and been through a whirlwind introduction of Liam's family.

It wasn't until everyone was seated outside, waiting for Henry to show up with his girlfriend, that Emma's thoughts had the opportunity to take over.

Killian was going to be staying with them, in the guest room. The guest room that shared a bathroom with hers. How did her mother even allow this to happen? Why couldn't she invite Evie over to stay instead?

She was already having a hard time thinking through her feelings about what happened on the flight. She had really enjoyed those moments, but she wasn't 100% sure she wanted to repeat them. Actually, she knew she did, especially if he kissed her the way he did earlier, but she wasn't sure if it was the right thing. They had been drinking when they kissed, had been wrapped up in the past. He said he didn't regret it earlier, but what about now, what about after the buzz of the rum wore off?

He hadn't regretted what they had done. She hadn't either. However, she didn't want to have to face him every morning, noon, and night. She wanted to be able to think through things without him being right there. She wanted to be able to decide if things between them would go anywhere, without a joined bathroom between them. How would she ever be able to determine what is between them if they were constantly forced together? She needed to be sure about her feelings and with their first encounter in almost seven years happening because of a drunken game of truth or dare, she had to be sure that nothing was impeding her feelings.

Thankfully, the arrival of Henry and his girlfriend Violet, pulled Emma from her thoughts. Violet seemed like a nice girl. A bit shy, especially around the large group, but all things aside, she was a sweet girl. She looked at Henry the way her mother looked at her father. It was sweet actually. They had a relationship that most adults would kill for. Emma could only hope that it would last. She knew that young love, that first high school, puppy love, didn't really last. Or if it did, it was as rare as soul mates and true love.

Dinner went well, or as well as a group of sixteen people could make dinner go. The place was a mess by the time dessert and the real conversation rolled around. Dinner had started with simple small talk; discussion of the weather, Henry's hopes for graduation, as well as Violets, discussion of how stupid politics were, and Emma's least favorite pastime, stories of the kids when they were younger. Her father loved spilling stories of her when she was little, before she went off to conquer the world. Mr. Jones was the same way, but his stories tended to focus on Liam and not Killian. She could see his face fall with each passing story.

She wasn't quite sure if her mother had planned it, but Killian was sitting right across from her. So throughout the whole meal, after he took his luggage up to the guest room when he arrived, she had to make quick glances at him. She couldn't help it, her eyes were drawn to him. He started off the meal looking happy and content, shooting off jokes with his brother and little sister. Yet, as his father told story after story of Liam's childhood, his face continued to fall. She silently prayed that someone would change the subject to lighten the torture on him.

She wasn't thankful for the change of subject when it did eventually come around.

"So Emma, why don't you tell us all about your little adventures in modeling?" Mary Margaret said. She didn't mind being asked about her time modeling or telling them that she had done some pretty big jobs in the past year, enough so that she could quit her waitressing job, but she wasn't too happy about the way her mother worded the question. They were still learning each other, and she knew it would take some time for their relationship to be where it should be, but the way her mother worded the question made Emma stew.

"Well mom," she said, with annoyance in her voice, hoping her mother took note of the situation, "things have been going pretty well. I actually booked a few shoots earlier in the year that have given me enough in savings that I was able to quit my job waitressing, so now I can focus on my shoots instead."

She saw the look of pride on her father's face. Her mother however, looked a bit disappointed. Everyone else at the table didn't look any different, with smiles still plastered on their faces.

"Emma, that's wonderful!" her father said, beaming.

"Sweetie, are you sure you can afford to actually quit a paying job? I only ask because I don't want you to worry about money or anything. Maybe you should use that degree you got, put some of the hard work to good use," her mother questioned. After their previous conversation, Emma knew she didn't mean to sound condescending, but it still hurt to hear the disbelief in her mother's voice.

"Yes mom, I am sure I can afford it," she replied, with nothing but irritation seeping through her tone. "And I don't need to do anything with my degree. I'm happy doing what I'm doing right now."

"Emma, what else have you been doing out there? Go to any parties? Have any boyfriends?" Adelaide asked, with more love in her voice than in her mother's last two questions combined. She smiled at the woman who always supported her. She knew she was being harsh on her mother, but she had hoped for at least a few hours of normalcy before her mother's old colors showed through the new paint.

"Well, I'm currently helping my two best friends get engaged. They've been together since right after I moved to LA. Ruby and Lacey are perfect together. And no, I don't really go to any parties, it isn't really my scene. My ex did though. I'd say that was part of what led to our break up," Emma confessed.

She hadn't told anyone at home about Neal. No one seated at the table knew she even had a boyfriend in LA. She hadn't meant to talk about it either, but Adelaide's calming voice and question tore down her walls quick and had Emma spilling some of her guts.

"You had a boyfriend?" Evie squealed, looking nothing but excited about the development. She lived for "love stories" even if they ended badly. She was a junkie for anything remotely romantic.

"I did, but we just broke up actually. It wasn't going to work out," she explained, willing them all to leave it at that. She knew most of the table would, but she was worried about her mother as she looked down to the head of the table.

"What does he do? Is he a model too?" Brennan asked.

"No. Well yes and no. He is a model, but he is also a business owner, or something like a business owner. His father owns a couple of businesses and he helps out," Emma explained, with detest in her voice. Now that she was describing Neal, how could she even date a male model?

"You never know Emma, maybe you two will make up when you get back. Sometimes love needs some time apart. You never know," her mother started.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure Neal and I will not work out," Emma tried to tell her.

"Believe me sweetie, sometimes it just takes some distance. Just wait and see," her mother said one last time.

"No mom it won't!" Emma finally let her anger out.

The table went quiet immediately. No one lifted a drink or a fork, some of the plates of pies sitting untouched for what seemed like an eternity.

"Well let's move on, it doesn't seem like we are going to be agreeing on Emma's love life anytime soon," Adelaide said, trying to lighten the situation.

"Killian, when do you start training? By the way, the league made such a stupid decision to bench you!" her father said from the other end of the table.

So that was something new. She didn't know he was suspended. She knew something was up when he said he was coming home for three weeks, especially since the season was in mid swing and everyone was gearing up for the series. She had just assumed it was an injury or a needed vacation, but suspended?

"Well, the league was just doing what it had to. I don't blame them, it could have been a lot worse. But I start in a few days. I can't train with the Nationals, sorry David, but I am training with one of the minor leagues, so hopefully I can keep up with everything. I'm trying to look at this in a positive light, maybe take the time to do some thinking," he explained, sadness lacing his voice. She could tell he was missing his time on the field. What had happened to him, what was so bad that it got him benched?

"Thank God they sent him here to do it too, I couldn't stomach him staying in LA training while that woman waltzed around, continuing to ruin his career," Brennan cursed from near Killian. She could see the anger in the elder Jones' eyes. Liam was trying to calm his father down, placing a hand up to tell him to drop it.

"Dad…" Liam began, but was quickly interrupted.

"No Liam! Killian is throwing everything away over some whore who has controlled him for way too long. If anything good came of this shit show, it was this woman being removed from his life forever. At least that is what we can hope, right Killian?" Brennan's words hurt even Emma. The tone of his voice was vicious and harsh. Emma could see Killian breaking and all she wanted to do in that moment was console him. She wanted to tell him no matter what she would support him, unlike his father.

"Brennan…" Adelaide tried to calm her husband down, but to no avail.

"All of you, stop. Killian knows he screwed up. He has made it too far to just throw away his career over some woman. His career hangs in a balance and all because he allowed this woman to control everything he did. Killian, you need to work hard while you are here. This isn't a vacation or a chance to, what is it you said, do some thinking. This is your livelihood, you can't be a pansy ass about it!" Brennan's voice was getting louder after each and every word.

Emma could tell Brennan was riling himself up to say something else, but before anyone was able to get out another word out, Killian stood up, his chair flying as he stormed into the house that he was now staying in. He was muttering some curse words that were brilliantly strung together about his father.

No one else stood up from the table. Liam and his family turned back to their pies. Violet and Henry were like deers in headlights, unsure what to actually do in that moment. Emma felt bad for the girl. For the first time meeting the "extended family", she was getting an eye and earful. Everyone sat in silence and ate for the next ten minutes.

Brennan was the first one to get up and make his way to leave. He thanked the Nolan's for dinner, saying that he would see David tomorrow to discuss something and headed out. Thankfully, he didn't go through the house, since their backyards were only separated by a wooden fence that shared a gate.

"I'm so sorry Mary, he's been so upset since this whole suspension went down. I begged him not to bring it up. I'll talk to you tomorrow," Adelaide said as she stood up to make her leave, kissing her mother on the cheek. Her mother just waved her off, a knowing look in her eyes. This actually was pretty normal; Brennan losing his temper wasn't anything new.

Emma was actually kind of pissed no one from Killian's family got up to check on him when he stormed out. She would have gone after him, but it didn't really seem like her place. She had only reconnected with him again a few hours earlier. She didn't know what he was going through. Well she kind of did, but she knew nothing about the background.

Thankfully the rule in Emma's family was whoever made the meal didn't have to clean up, so she decided to turn in, claiming tiredness from the trip. She was, but she was also just ready to get away from all of the drama of the day. After seeing how Brennan treated Killian, Emma couldn't be upset with her mother's insistent questioning or belittling comments. Compared to Brennan, Mary Margaret wasn't rude, it was just who she was. It was a bit annoying but at least she did it out of love.

Emma was right about her room not changing; even the stupid poster was still there. As she looked at it though, she realized she would have been upset if it had been taken down. It was part of her past, part of who she was, and she could never get rid of it. She laid on her bed for a couple of minutes, staring up at Nick's face, but she couldn't get Killian off her mind. He was only a few feet away and she could practically feel him stewing. She felt bad for him. It wasn't pity, but she felt his pain.

It was another few minutes of her pacing the floor of her bedroom and their shared bathroom before she knocked on the door of the guest room. She noticed that there were no lights on from the sliver below the door. She hoped she wasn't waking him.

She heard some movement from the room, but no answer. Something in her though told her to just go in, so she did.

What she saw utterly wrecked her. Killian was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking towards the bathroom door. His hair disheveled and eyes puffy. In his hand he held a tumbler, which was half full of amber liquid. A bottle sat at his feet, also half empty. Something told her the bottle had been full only twenty minutes ago. Killian was a broken man and Emma made up her mind in that moment that she was going to fix him.

#captain swan big bang #CSBB #Captain Swan #captain swan fanfiction #cs fan fic #CSFF

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katdvs · 7 years ago

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Lucas Friar moved back to Texas at 17, now he’s running for Mayor of Rosewood Springs so best friend Zay and little sister Gigi decide he needs a little help from a political consultant. Riley Matthews found her calling, she found a fiancé, but she never expected to find herself here, of all places.

Cross-posted to FF.net | Soundtrack | Past Chapters

Author Note: My dear sweet readers, I am so very sorry that this chapter has taken so very long to get out. A whole month! Yikes! I want to say thank you to everyone who sent messages on Tumblr, Instagram asking about updates. I wish I could’ve replied to the ones on FF, but they were all guests so I couldn’t ☹. Also thank you to everyone who sent in dreamcasts/fancasts for the characters. It has been fascinating to see who you all picture as not just Riley, Lucas, Gigi, and Zay, but also Deacon, Dixie, and Gloria May, etc. I appreciate your support, and passion for this story in more ways than you will ever know, or I could ever put into words. Thank you for still be interested in Thunder Chasing The Wind, and anything else I’ve written. You guys are amazing and really turn a difficult day good. xoxoxo

-must be doing something right-

Lucas’ neck was stiff as he woke up, looking over to see Riley asleep on the hospital bed, the monitors keeping an eye on the twins growing inside of her. In the moment she looked peaceful, and his heart ached, wanting to protect her from everything awful that could ever happen to her and their children.

She was the kindest person he knew, she radiated with positivity even in the darkest moments. How could anyone want to hurt her?

He wasn’t worthy of her, he’d been a jerk to women for years—was this karma? He’d had a wall up, but of course she could come in and start to pull it down as if it was made of straw and sticks, not bricks.

He checked the time on his phone, it wasn’t too early, he figured the doctors would in soon for morning rounds. He pushed himself up, stretching before gently kissing her forehead, trying not to wake her up before he left to check on his sister.

When he opened the door of her room he saw Deacon twisted in the chair next to Gigi’s bed, holding her hand. He still wasn’t sure what was going on with his sister, but he had a feeling that whatever confusion she had been feeling was gone, now she would have to fight for what she wanted.

He rubbed the stiffness in his neck as he walked down the hall to the elevator. He knew that no matter how knotted up his own body was, it was nothing compared to what Riley and Gigi would be feeling over the next few days and weeks to come as they recovered.

The morning sun was blinding after hours in the hospital. He got in his truck, sitting for a moment behind the wheel before grabbing a tin of mints and chomping down on the strong candy knowing it was no replacement for brushing his teeth. He pulled his seatbelt on before starting the engine. The radio was off and he was thankful for the silence as he drove into town, it was early enough downtown was quiet as he drove past Casey’s, his office, the Wild Z. He parked in front of the MinkCell store, thankful that they always opened early and stayed open late, even on a Sunday.

“Dr. Friar, let me guess you’re here to replace some phones.” The clerk put his own phone down on the counter as Lucas looked around a little bit.

“Yeah, I wanted to get replacements for Gigi and Riley. They’re going to go a bit stir-crazy if they don’t have them soon.”

“I’m sorry to hear about what happened to them.” He told Lucas as he pulled something up on the computer, “Riley did come in just the other day and made sure your account and hers were merged, so that’s one less headache.”

Lucas couldn’t help but smile, “She would think of that.”

“Give me just a minute, I’m going to grab the phones from the back.”

“Take your time.” Lucas didn’t really want him to, he wanted to get back to the hospital before Riley woke up. He wandered around the shop, looking at the different accessories, picking up two Bluetooth speakers, extra chargers, when the clerk came out with the phones.

“Okay, I’ve got one in silver for Gigi and one in the rose gold for Riley.” The clerk started setting everything up in the computer, glancing up at Lucas every so often. “How are they?”

“Riley thankfully just sprained her ankles, Gigi had to have her spleen removed.” Lucas reached over grabbing clear cases for the phones.

“Okay, both phones should be ready to go. If you’ve got problems with either of them bring them back of course.”

“Great, and I’ll take the rest of this stuff.”

“Sure thing.” He rang Lucas up, accepting the credit card before packing everything up into two bags.

“Thanks, have a good day.” Lucas called out as he left the shop, dropping the phones off in his truck before making a quick stop into Casey’s ordering a couple of breakfasts to go. He had a feeling that Gigi would be on a very restricted diet, but Deacon would have to eat something and probably hadn’t.

“How are the girls Doc?” Old Joe called out when he came in.

“They’re doing better.” He sat at the counter next to the older man, “It might take them a little while before they’re up and around again though.”

Old Joe sipped his coffee, “It’s a shame what happened, neither deserve it.”

“No, they didn’t” Lucas placed his order, looking around realizing how empty it was this early in the morning.

“They’re alive, they’ll survive, they are both fighters.”

“Thanks Joe.” Lucas looked up, “I just wish they had never gotten hurt.”

“Things happen for a reason,” Joe set his coffee down, “the reason isn’t always clear though, you may never understand why.”

Lucas was silent, absorbing the older man’s words as his order was brought out and he paid. “Have a good day Joe.”

“You as well Doc.”

Lucas gave him a friendly wave before he left, breathing in the fresh fall morning air before getting back in the truck and returning to the hospital. He went by Gigi’s room first, she was awake, sitting up. Deacon was in the chair next to the bed watching her as she stared at the breakfast in front of her. “Hey, I bring gifts.”

Gigi glanced at her brother, she could smell the food he had with her, “I hate you.”

“Sorry Gi, the food is for Deacon, but this is for you.” He handed her the bag with the cellphone.

Gigi looked at it, “What is this?”

“New phone and accessories. Both yours and Riley’s got destroyed.”

“Thank you, Lucas.”

“You’re welcome sis.” He kissed the top of her head, “Deacon, eat, I know you haven’t since yesterday.”

“Yes boss.” Deacon accepted the food, “Thank you.”

“Just take care of Gigi.”

Deacon looked over to her, “I will.” The weight of the words filling the room.

“Good, I got to get back to Riley.” He left, feeling less tension when he was out of the room, but he had a feeling that maybe they were on the right path after the extreme emotions of the day before.

Outside of Riley’s room Lucas took a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t going to be mad at him for leaving. When he looked in, he saw she was sitting up in the bed, trying to find something to watch on the TV but obviously nothing was catching her attention. He slowly came in and over to the bed, placing the bag with her new phone next to her.

Riley looked over, her eyes narrowing on him. “Where did you go?”

“To get you something, but if you don’t want it I can take it back.” He reached for the bag but she snatched it before he could take it back. He couldn’t help but smile.

Riley opened the bag, pulling out the new phone, “Lucas, you didn’t have to do this.”

“Your phone and Gigi’s were destroyed. Insurance will cover them. Besides, don’t you want to call Maya and tell her you’re okay, married, and going to be a mother?” He sat down pulling out the breakfast he’d picked up.

“I feel like waiting on that, at least until we get home.” She reached into his takeout container, snagging a piece of bacon. “Rachel already came in, everything looks good. She’s already getting papers ready for my release.”

“Good” he leaned over and took a bite out of the bacon she had snagged, “Deacon is with Gigi, but I think when we get home we should send my parents to come relieve him for a few hours, relieve her since things are tense.”

Riley nodded, “Good idea, we should um, also tonight show the parents our wedding video. You know after we make a nice dinner.”

“You are going straight to bed when we get home.” He reminded her, “I’m going to have to carry you up the stairs silly woman. You can’t walk.”

Riley looked down at her ankles, “True, but two weeks in bed?”

“That’s what Aunt Rachel said, so that’s what you’re going to do for you and the babies.”

“Well you two, let’s hope that Daddy, Grandma’s, Grandpa’s and anyone else don’t drive Mommy crazy these next two weeks.

Lucas felt his smile grow as she spoke to their unborn children, “Another reason to get you a phone, you can call Maya and the two of you can drive each other crazy while on bedrest.”

“You know she’s going to freak out when she finds out I got married without her.”

“I’m sure she’ll blame me.” He held out a piece of whole wheat toast for her which she gladly accepted.

“Do you think our parents survived the night in the house?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t.” Lucas sighed, “We’ll find out soon enough I think.”

“Can we just run away?”

“No, well yeah we probably could but that won’t solve anything.”

Topanga watched as the BMW drove down the drive way, parking under the oak tree while she sat on the porch. She watched as the young man got out, and when she thought young he was just shy of forty. His pitch-black hair perfectly combed into place, he wore a mint green polo shirt, and dark khaki pants. He appeared to be stepping out of a catalogue as he grabbed his briefcase from the backseat of his car.

Topanga moved down the front steps to greet him, “Eddie, it’s so good to see you. I’m glad they sent you.”

“Well when Topanga Matthews says she needs a lawyer here in Texas, I will gladly drop everything. Besides I have a client here in Rosewood Springs anyways.” He was friendly as they greeted.

“Who would that be?”

He paused for a moment thinking of the name, “Dixie Carmichael, her Uncle called to hire me yesterday.” He noticed immediately that her body posture changed. “What’s wrong?”

“The woman she tried to murder is my daughter.”

His stomach flipped, knotting itself up as he absorbed this additional information, “I had no idea.”

Topanga nodded, “I called for you because I want to make sure that Riley, her sister-in-law, and the rest of her family are protected.”

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t met with her yet, but this would be a conflict of interest to take her case. You did get to me first. And you are my boss.”

“Good” She kept her arms crossed over her chest, “When are you supposed to meet with her?”

“In an hour, but I bet you want to go with me.”

“I do, but I don’t think it’s appropriate.” Topanga moved to sit on the steps, “I don’t know the whole story Eddie, what I do know is that someone, this woman, tried to hurt my daughter, her sister-in-law, because she thinks she and my son-in-law are meant to be together.”

Eddie sat next to her, balancing the briefcase on his knees as he snapped it open, pulling out a legal pad that had a few notes on it. “Four counts of Attempted Homicide, trespassing, and more.”

“We need a restraining order against her, especially once she finds out Riley is pregnant. I’m worried she might try again to hurt her.”

“Okay, of course. Obviously, I’ll talk with the Sheriff about all of this.” Eddie made a few quick notes, “I’ll find out exactly what’s going on, what needs to be done to protect your daughter and her family.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Topanga sighed, “Could I get you coffee or anything before you go?”

“Thank you, but no. I’m going to get into town and get as much of this taken care of as possible. I’ll give you a call when I have more information for you.”

“Thank you, for taking care of this.”

“How could I say no to my favorite boss? I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t been your intern.”

Topanga cringed thinking about all the time that had passed, “That was forever ago.”

“Yeah, Riley was in what middle school then?” He put his notes back in the briefcase and shut it, “And she’s married now, expecting twins if the police report is correct.”

“She is, I’m still wrapping my mind around all of it.” She confessed, “Please call as soon as you have some news.”

Eddie rose from the steps, “I’ll call soon.” He looked around the ranch, “Is this yours?”

“My son-in-law’s, Riley owns the property next door though, she bought it from Dixie’s father.”

Eddie pulled the keys from his pocket, “This is a twisted web of circumstance, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Topanga sighed, “I think it’s a case of a delusional woman who couldn’t take no for an answer. Even though it’s been the answer she’s gotten for years. Classic case of entitlement.”

Eddie shook his head, “Just makes the job harder, doesn’t it?”

Topanga nodded as he got in his car, “Thank you again for doing this Eddie.”

“For you, Boss, anytime.” He flashed a smile before starting the car up, “Talk to you soon.”

Topanga moved back to the steps, waving to Eddie as he drove away, Cory came out, “Was that Eddie Parker? It looked like Eddie Parker.”

“It was, he’s going to be making sure that there is a restraining order in place against Dixie and anything else Riley and Lucas need to be safe from this woman.”

“That’s good, Lucas texted, he and Riley should be home in a couple of hours, just waiting on the actual release paperwork, because you know it just takes so long to get processed.” Cory sighed as he sat down on the steps, “It’s pretty here, hot though.”

Topanga chuckled as she sat next to her husband, “Yeah, different then New York huh?”

“Very” he jumped when he heard the distant cry of a cow mooing.

Topanga patted Cory’s hand, “I already called my office and told them I would be down here in Texas for the next few weeks. Have you called into the school?”

“Yeah, I got a sub set for this week, and depending on how things are going I can get it extended.”

“Good, I have a feeling this is going to be a tight space with all of us in this house.”

Cory sighed, “We’ll figure this out, it’s not like we’re going to move to Texas.” He chuckled.

“You got me a phone, but not a set of clothes to wear home?” Riley let her eyes fall on her husband, “You are lucky that I look cute in oversized men’s clothes.”

“I’m sorry” Lucas helped her into the wheelchair, “It didn’t occur to me that they cut off your clothes when they brought you in.”

“It’s okay, I just want to get home, clean up, put on my own pajama’s and, well then I can’t do much can I?”

He pushed the chair forward out of the door, “You rest, you get better for yourself and the babies.”

“Can we stop and see Gigi first?”

“Yeah of course.” Lucas kissed the top of Riley’s head as they moved down the hall to the elevator, where they went up a floor to where Gigi was. He gently knocked on his sister’s door before opening it, “Hey we just wanted to stop by before we left.”

Gigi looked over a small smile on her lips, “You are going to make me an aunt.”

“They just gave her more pain meds.” Deacon said from the window, a cautious look on his face.

“Yes, so you need to get healthy because before long our moms are going to be driving us crazy and we’re going to need each other.” Riley reminded her.

“Point taken,” Gigi looked over at Deacon, “I’m going to marry him.”

Riley gave her a smile, “I’m jealous you got the good stuff. I’m on Tylenol.” She looked up at Deacon, “He loves you.”

“He’s mad at me.”

“He’ll forgive you.” Riley looked to her husband, “We should get home.”

“Yeah, Um I’ll send Mom and Dad out to see you after we get back. We have to show them the wedding video tonight.”

“Wedding video, oh right Gigi mentioned you two got married, congratulations.”

“Thanks Deacon, let’s go honey, I’m tired.” Riley patted Lucas’ hand, “I don’t think I’ll see you until you get released and come home. I’m on bedrest for two weeks.”

“Lucas hooked us up with phones though.” Gigi waved the one he’d given her earlier in her hand.

“He sure did.” Riley looked at the two of them, “Find a movie, relax as best you can.”

“We’ll try.” Deacon’s smile was stiff as he watched the happy couple in front of him saying goodbye, leaving him and Gigi alone. His heart was heavy as he watched her, he could feel it in a dozen or so different pieces, ready to all fall away.

“I’ll come by and visit you tomorrow.” Lucas told his sister, “Just rest, get better.”

“I’ll do my best.” Gigi sighed, her eyelids feeling heavy.

Lucas kissed her forehead before going to the back of Riley’s wheelchair, he could feel the tension growing in the room, and knew it was time to make what little escape he could.

Once they were outside in the hall Riley released a loud breath, “That was tense.”

“Yeah, it would be worse if Zay was around.”

“Where is Zay?”

Lucas looked at his phone, “Well he should be at church right about now, but who knows.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t come to church with us.” Bonnie huffed to Grady as they walked into the social hall.

“Really, you’re surprised?” Grady shook his head, he really didn’t understand his wife lately, she would get in a tizzy about the most ridiculous things, “Topanga was meeting with her lawyer, that’s why. Besides do they really need to come here and be inundated with questions about Riley. I’m already uncomfortable knowing we’ll have to answer questions about Gigi.”

“I still think they should’ve come.” Bonnie’s eyes fell upon Mayor Harris, “Excuse me Grady, I have something to take care of.”

Grady felt her purse pushed against his chest as his wife crossed the social hall. He groaned loud enough that several people around him heard, and then turned their attention to the scene that was about to go down.

“Harris” Bonnie’s accent got thicker as she charged towards him.

He looked up, a smirk on his face when he saw her, until he saw the fire in his eyes and fear took over. “Bonnie Friar, good to see you. Where are the kids?”

“Well gosh Harris, let me think.” Bonnie crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at the man before her, “Gigi is in the hospital, having had her spleen removed, and Lucas is taking care of Riley who has sprained both ankles. Both girls are bruised and banged up thanks to your niece Dixie tampering with Riley’s car.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to take a sip of his lemonade, feeling his hands shaking slightly.

“Cut the bullshit Harris, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Bonnie took a step towards him, her eyes narrowing, “I can’t wait to watch that psychotic little bitch rot in prison.”

“We’re in church Bonnie.” Harris tried to back away, but only made it a couple of inches before hitting the wall.

“We’re in the social hall, and your niece, hurt my family. She’s got multiple charges coming up against her.”

He gulped, “She has the best lawyer in Texas coming in today to help her.”

Bonnie raised an eyebrow at him, “I wouldn’t count on that Harris, the best thing you can probably do for her is wash your hands of her. Then again, she’s already tarnished your image, and you won’t be Mayor for much longer.”

Harris couldn’t hold back the eyeroll, “Lucas isn’t going to win, people in this town don’t like New York Sluts shacking up with our men.”

The collective gasp of the congregation was loud enough to drown out the sound of Bonnie’s hand contacting his cheek, “Never speak that way about my daughter-in-law again, do you understand? People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones Harris.”

The room was silent for a moment as everyone processed what they were witnessing before the doors were thrown open and several children came running in, one goal in mind—cookies.

Bonnie held her head high as she spun around and walked towards Grady, “Well we should get home, make sure things are set for Riley’s return.”

Grady still had her purse as he followed her to the car before he finally spoke, “What the hell Bonnie?”

“I put him on notice.” She took the keys from him, “Get in the damn car Grady.”

“Bonnie, you just revealed to almost the entire town that Riley and Lucas are married.” He stared at his wife, wondering when she had lost her mind, if it was a new thing due to his retirement, something that had happened long before, or if maybe she had always been like this.

“Did I? Oops, they’ll have to announce it soon enough, and everyone at the hospital already knows. They were calling her Mrs. Friar after all.” She waved her hand as though it were no big deal, “Let’s get home now.”

Grady shook his head with a sigh as he got in the car, maybe he could only semi-retire, or he could run away to Tahiti.

“I had a feeling I would find you here.” Gloria May dropped her purse on the bar as she grabbed a glass and filled it with whiskey before sitting next to him. “How’s Gigi?”

“Alive, she had her spleen removed.” Zay rubbed his eyes.

“You are so in love with her.” Gloria May shook her head before taking a sip of her drink.

Zay stared at her, “What, why would you say that?”

She turned to him, looking deep into his espresso eyes, “I’m not stupid Zay, I see the way you look at her when you think no one is watching. I hear it in your voice. You pretend you don’t, but you do.”

He was silent as he took a sip of whiskey, “Well Deacon informed me I had to stay away, and when I did get to see Gigi she told me she wanted him.”

Gloria May scoffed, “She’s been through a major trauma thanks to Dixie fucking around with the car.”

“Wait what?” Zay almost dropped his glass on the bar top.

“You didn’t hear? It was Dixie. They arrested her yesterday.” She took a slow sip, “I knew when it came to Lucas she was a little kooky, but this.”

“Dixie did this to Gigi and Riley? Fucking bitch.” Zay slammed his fist on the bar top causing Gloria May to jump.

She gently put a hand on his shoulder, massaging it softly before he turned to her. She nodded before she felt his lips on hers, before he lifted her up on the bar, his hands gripping her waist. She knew she shouldn’t continue to give into this, but the pull, the need was too strong, the desire to feel him lost in her, if only for a few minutes was more than she’d ever hoped for.

She closed her eyes as the tips of his fingers slowly danced over her inner thighs, the soft moan escaping her lips, giving him permission to continue as he touched her.

One day she wouldn’t give into her desire for Zay, but today was not that day.

Lucas parked his truck close to the front steps, quickly getting out and going to lift Riley from her seat, carrying her. The front door opened before he had to think to ask and he carried her through. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs looking to his parents and hers, “Um, I’m going to get Riley settled so she can rest okay. I’ll come down when she’s ready for visitors.”

“But we can help.” Topanga insisted.

Lucas looked to his mother-in-law, “Let me take care of Riley right now, okay.”

“Yeah, Mom Lucas has this. He’ll get you when I’m settled.” Riley reiterated.

“Fine, I’ll wait.” Topanga sighed, just wanting to make sure her daughter was okay.

Lucas continued up the stairs and carried Riley into the bedroom, gently placing her on the bed. “I’ll be right back, Riley do not try and go anywhere.”

“Fine” She sighed looking down at her ankles, one still wrapped in the ace bandage, the other with the Aircast tight around it.

Lucas ducked out of the room and quickly went down the steps, “She’s not settled yet, but I needed something.” He called out as he went out to the back patio and grabbed one of the plastic chairs, bringing it in with him. He saw the confused looks from his father and Cory, “So she can shower.”

When Lucas got upstairs he found his mother and Topanga in the room, “Out ladies, I will get Riley settled. I am her husband, and I am the father of those baby boys growing inside of her.”

Topanga chuckled, “Boys huh? You sure about that?”

“Yes” Lucas insisted as he brought the plastic chair into the bathroom, placing it in the shower before returning to the bedroom, “I promise to come get you both when she’s settled.”

“Lucas, sweetie we just want to help.” His mother insisted.

“When we need your help you can help, for now we do not. Scram.” He gave them a warning look that took them both by surprise, as they put their hands up and backed out of the room. He locked the door once they were gone.

“Lucas, you don’t have to do this all yourself, they’re here to help.” Riley watched him as he came towards the bed, picking her up. “What are you doing?”

“Getting you in a shower,” he told her as he brought her into the bathroom, sitting her on the chair. He removed the Ace bandage and the Aircast, putting them on the counter. He looked at her, disheveled, the dirt in her hair, dried blood, he loved her and he couldn’t believe how close he came to almost losing her.

“I can shower on my own.”

“Maybe, but I want and need to take care of you.” He told her as he removed the clothes she’d worn out of the hospital, tossing them aside, “I almost lost you Riley, we’re just getting started, you, me, and these two future all-stars.”

She covered his hand with hers as he placed it on her abdomen. “I love you and the three of us are very lucky to have you.”

He leaned down to kiss her, wishing he could give in to showing her exactly how much she meant to him, instead pulling away to remove his own clothes and start the shower. He focused on Riley as she sat in the chair, he shampooed her hair, conditioned it the way she instructed. He helped her soap up her body when she winced in pain from her sore muscles. He rinsed her off, dried her off with her favorite towel before re-wrapping her ankles with the correct supports.

“Thank you, Lucas” Riley nuzzled against his neck as he carried her back to the bedroom.

“Anything for you.” He kissed her softly, whimpering when he had to pull away. He went to the dresser and pulled out her pajama pants and then grabbed one of this t-shirts before dressing her. “Much better.”

She gave him a smile as she watched him dress, “Yes much, will you lay here with me for a little bit before we let the parents in here?”

“Of course,” He made sure her feet were elevated before he lay next to her, feeling her rest her head on his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fruity scent of the shampoo they used, listening to her breathing, eventually they both fell asleep.

Dixie Carmichael was thankful to finally be out of the small cell she’d been kept in. She wore navy blue scrub like clothes, and her bra had been confiscated due to the underwire. Her hair was a mess, and she hadn’t slept.

She couldn’t believe this. They had no proof at all she’d done anything to that bitch Riley, this was such a witch hunt. Her Uncle would have her cleared soon, he called in a lawyer from Austin he said was the best in the state.

She looked down at her nails, only a little chipped from when she was crawling on the ground under Riley’s SUV the day before, not that anyone could prove that’s how she’d chipped it. She’d almost been rid of that bitch once and for all.

Outside the door she could see the shadows of two men, one was obviously the sheriff with his pudgy, short body, the other she didn’t know, but she saw broad shoulders on a tall man. She crossed her legs, fluffed her hair with her fingers and made sure she was sitting up straight while cursing the florescent lighting as the door opened.

He had dark black hair, no signs of gray, his eyes did have the promise of wrinkles from a man who enjoyed laughing. Blue eyes she could get lost in, like a crisp water off a Greek island. She was lost in the moment as she watched the way his mint green polo stretched over his shoulders and chest.

Who was this God before her?

“Dixie Carmichael?” His voice was strong, thick, smooth.

Her toes curled in a way she never felt before. “Yes, you are?”

“Eddie Parker, your Uncle called yesterday to hire me.” He opened his briefcase, “he should be here in just a moment and then we can talk.”

Dixie kept her eyes on him, wondering if his chest felt as hard as she anticipated, wondering if she opened his collar should would find a bare chest or dark hair to run her fingers in.

“Sorry I’m late.” Mayor Harris tugged on his tie, “Shall we get started?”

“Now, I just want to get a few things clear, the victims of the crimes you’ve been charged with are Riley Friar and Georgianna Friar, correct?” Eddie pulled something from his briefcase, double checking the document.

“Wait, Riley Friar, no her name is Riley Matthews.” Dixie felt her stomach drop.

Eddie looked up, he could see the panic in Dixie’s eyes, “Riley is married to Dr. Lucas Friar, her identification at the scene said Riley Friar,” he pulled the document from his folder, “And this restraining order is to protect Riley Friar, Georgianna Friar, and Lucas Friar currently. Now that I’ve given you this, I’ll be on my way.”

“Excuse me?” Harris grabbed Eddie’s arm, feeling the strong muscle, he realized he perhaps made a mistake.

“I can’t be your attorney Ms. Carmichael; The Friars are my clients. I’m sure you’ll find another attorney to handle the case.” He snapped his briefcase closed, the sound echoing in the small room. “I will leave you with this, you’ve got four charges of attempted homicide in front of you. I can promise you, this is just the start of your legal troubles.”

Harris followed Eddie into the hall, “What is this bullshit, you’re the Friar’s attorney how the fuck is that possible?”

Eddie looked at the older man in front of him, “The firm I work at, we’re part of a national firm, our headquarters are in New York City. When I was an intern, I worked for Topanga Matthews, Riley’s mother. Topanga is still my boss, and compared to her, I’m not that great.”

“What are you saying?”

“That your niece is fucked, I saw the police reports, a good chunk of town called in that she was the one who did this, and this is the legal stuff. Wait until I slap her, and you with a civil suit.” Eddie looked up, feeling Dixie’s eyes on him. Even if he wasn’t working for Topanga, he would get out of this case as quickly as possible, he didn’t need a client with her mouthwatering as if she’d been on the latest fast and he was a chocolate bar. “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

“Big city trash!” Harris called out as Eddie walked down the hall. He kicked the wall before going back into the room and looked at his niece, “What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing.” Her lower lip quivered as she looked down at her nails.

Harris swung the door closed, “Do you understand what this obsession of yours has done? You’ve lost the ranch, you’re in jail, you’ve got a restraining order against you, and four attempted homicide charges, four! I don’t know why it’s four but you’ve got four!”

“I’m innocent, I’m the victim here.” She willed the tears in her eyes.

“Cut the bullshit,” Harris sat across from her, “I’ll find you a new lawyer, but I want you to plead guilty. I will not lose this election to Lucas Friar, because you tried to murder his wife and sister.”

“I am not pleading guilty.”

Harris rose from the seat, the sound of the chair scraping across the floor stinging his ears, “Dixie, he’s married, you tried to murder his wife and sister. No jury in this county is going to find you not guilty.”

“I’m innocent.” She whined, pounding her fist on the table.

He sighed, realizing that she might believe it. He took one last look at his niece before leaving the room, and her all alone.

“Friar open this door!” Cory pounded on the bedroom door, shaking the handle, kicking it with his foot. “Lucas Friar, I will still steal your shoes!”

It took another minute or two before the door opened, Lucas obviously still half-asleep leaning against the frame, “Sorry we fell asleep.”

Cory pushed past him, to see Riley hugging a pillow where Lucas had obviously been a moment ago, still asleep. “Your parents went to see Gigi, Topanga made some lunch, she wants to bring it up.”

“Yeah that’s fine, let me wake Riley, she needs to take her medicine anyways.” He climbed onto the bed, slowly pulling the pillow away from his wife, “Ri, Riley, sweetheart,” he stroked her hair, “Princess Dancing Sunshine, time to wake up.”

“I want to sleep forever.” She moaned, her face revealing how unhappy she was to be awake.

“I don’t blame you, but you need to eat something, and have some medicine. Maybe then you should give Maya a call, I’m sure she knows about the accident, but you should probably talk to her.”

Riley sighed, “Fine, that works.” She tried to sit up, wincing as the pain radiated through her body from various places, tear stinging her eyes. Before she knew it Lucas and her father were both helping her, propping her up with pillows when her mother came in with a tray of food.

“Once you’re done eating let me do your hair, I see you got it washed but forgot to brush it.” Topanga sat on the edge of the bed, watching her daughter eat.

Riley slowly ate the food her mother prepared for her. She relaxed a little when her mother brushed through her hair, gently, to avoid more trauma from bumps on the head and tangles. She almost fell asleep before Lucas came in the room with her laptop.

“I could just use my phone.” She reminded him.

“Well I figure you’ll eventually want to get stuff done for the resort. At the very least get a list or two of things for whoever it is that’ll be handling stuff tomorrow.” He kissed her forehead before getting on the bed next to her.

Riley opened her laptop, her fingers hovering over the home keys for a second before typing in her password, she could feel the smile on Lucas’ lips as he watched her.

“Back up Friar.” Cory warned.

“Which one?” Riley smirked as she glanced at her father, “I’m a Friar now, remember.”

“Yeah, when are we going to talk about that?”

“Later, I’m calling Maya. Everyone keep their traps shut.” Riley gave them all a warning look as the video call rang.

Lucas ducked away, feeling his father-in-law’s glare just before he would’ve been in the shot as Maya answered the phone.

“Riley, thank God, you’re alive. Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I was kind of stuck in the hospital, Lucas got me a new phone this morning but I had to go straight to bed once we got home.” She studied her best friend, she could see the bed pillows stacked behind her. “How’s your bedrest?”

“I’m going stir crazy,” she glanced down towards her abdomen, “Gracie is kicking up a storm, but thankfully Charlie is wrangling Fallon and Drew.” She looked back up, “But enough about me, you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I sprained both ankles, a few bumps and bruises from the accident, that should clear up soon.”

“Good thing you’ve got that strong Cowboy to help you out. Did he carry you up the stairs? Did he help undress you?”

“Maya” Cory screeched from the side.

Maya began a hearty laugh, “Oh hey Matthews.”

Lucas meanwhile was blushing, wondering how his wife described him to Maya, wondering what she had shared.

“Dad, hush or I’m going to make you sleep in the barn tonight.” Riley looked to him quickly before turning back towards her laptop. “Anyways, yeah um, I’m okay really, I have my parents here, and you know I’ve got my wonderful husband, and you know two weeks of bedrest to make sure that the babies are healthy, so I might go a little stir crazy, any tips?”

Maya was silent, her eyes half closed, her mouth hanging open.

“Maya, did you freeze?”

Maya blinked several times as she leaned away from her screen. “For a second I thought you said husband, and then I could’ve sworn you said babies.”

Riley sucked her lips in with a smile as she lifted her left hand, “Lucas and I got married in August.”

“You got married without me, you didn’t tell me?”

“They didn’t tell any of us.” Topanga pushed Riley to the side a little as she got into the call, “None of us knew, they had no plan to tell us.”

“That’s not true.” Lucas looked at his mother-in-law as he moved closer to Riley, “We were going to tell you at Thanksgiving, we had the whole thing planned, we were going to show you all the wedding video.”

“Yeah that’s what you say now Lucas, but how do we know it’s true?” Topanga sent him an icy glare.

“Stop” Riley growled as she pulled a file up on her laptop, made sure to share the screen, “I made this to be sent out to everyone who couldn’t be here on Thanksgiving.”

The graphic on the screen showed a portrait of Riley and Lucas with the Grand Canyon behind them, with a bold, gold text: We eloped!

“You really got married without me?” Maya’s voice broke just a little.

“You couldn’t fly, we didn’t want to wait.” Riley grabbed Lucas’ hand, “We just wanted to be married, we spent too much time apart was it was.”

“So, we went to Las Vegas, and go married in the Grand Canyon.” Lucas gave Riley’s hand a squeeze. “We decided on Thanksgiving, to have everyone together, so no one felt jilted we told them before others.”

“If what happened yesterday hadn’t happened, no one would know yet.” Riley looked around feeling guilt wrap over her, “But everyone kept calling me Mrs. Friar.”

“You changed your name, Ranger Rick, I swear, you’re lucky I’m on bed rest.” Maya pointed towards the screen.

“Yes, I changed my name, I know you’re all shocked, but come on guys, you knew one day this was going to happen.”

“I didn’t think you’d be making me a grandfather so soon.” Cory muttered.

“Yeah, Riley, can we get back to that?” Maya folded her hands together.

“Lucas and I, are having twins, they’re due in May.” Riley watched her friend’s eyes go wide.

“Damn, I knew you guys would be rabbits, but twins?”

“Maya, we weren’t rabbits.” Riley felt her voice squeak at her lie. “We weren’t trying, we um got blessed.”

“Yes, we did.” Lucas dropped his hand to Riley’s abdomen, “And right now my beautiful wife needs rest, so goodbye Maya.”

“Fine, Charlie will shut me down soon anyways.” Maya sighed before the call disconnected.

“You two, out, or I’ll have the ranch hands set up two cots in the barn.” Lucas gave his in-laws a warning look.

“Fine, but you and me, we’re talking later.” Cory warned as he and Topanga gathered a few items and left the room.

Lucas waited a moment before going and locking the door, a sigh escaping his lips before he looked over to his wife, as she was closing her laptop and placing it on the bedside table. The afternoon sun enhancing the glow she already had.

“What?” She caught him staring, it was that look he would get every so often, usually he would kiss her, they would speak in the language that was just their own.

“I’m enjoying the moment.” He felt an ache in his heart, “I would be lost without you Riley.”

“Get over here” Riley reached out for him, “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

He joined her on the bed, curling his body against hers, his head resting over her heart, while his hand dropped her abdomen. He felt her arm hold him close, the sound of her breathing before they both drifted to sleep.

Gigi sighed as she looked to her parents, she was sitting up in a chair the nurse had helped her move to. Her mother and father arrived and quickly told Deacon to leave and go shower, change, check in with the office or perhaps he would never return. She really didn’t know.

“Gigi, are you listening to me?” Bonnie wasn’t sure why she and her daughter were so distant, when had it happened?

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Do you know when you and Deacon want to get married?” Bonnie had taken out her phone and a stylus as though she were about to take a dozen notes.

Gigi shook her head, “Not now Mom, I can’t think about a wedding right now. I, I need to heal first.”

“Of course, I just thought I could get the ball rolling on a few things.” Bonnie frowned and put the phone back in her bag.

“The girl just had surgery, survived a car accident Bon-Bon, let her heal.” Grady warned, trying to ignore the tension between his wife and daughter. “Besides, if you get too crazy she might just run off and get married n Vegas like her brother did.”

“To be fair they got married in the Grand Canyon.” Gigi pointed out, “and it was beautiful.”

“At least you got invited.” Bonnie’s arms crossed over her chest and the pout on her lips grew fuller.

Rolling her eyes with a sigh escaping her lips, “Maybe if you weren’t such a self-centered bitch Lucas and Riley would’ve called you up in London at like five in the morning and asked you to fly into Vegas for a day and then send you back the next day.”

Grady clapped his hands together, looking from his wife to his daughter, “Bonnie I think we should leave, give Gigi some alone time.”

“Fine” She stood up, her purse held so tightly in her hand that her knuckles were turning white, leaning forward she planted a kiss on her daughter’s cheek before stomping towards the door.

Grady gave Gigi a gentle hug, “You two used to be thick as thieves, I wish I understood this space between you.”

She couldn’t look at her father, her eyes were cast down on her hands studying the scrapes and cuts that were already healing, “She called me a slut Dad, that’s rich coming from her the original slut of Rosewood Springs.”

He understood now, Gigi knew, “It’s more complicated then what you think Gigi.”

“I’m not her, I’m not some slut.”

Grady smoothed down her hair, “I know sweetheart.” He planted a kiss on the top of her head knowing he couldn’t argue with her about Bonnie, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Bye Daddy” Gigi watched her father leave, she glanced up at the TV some old movie with Freddie Prinze Jr. was on, all she could do now was wait, hope that Deacon would be back.

Zay stretched his Wild Z t-shirt over his body, feeling the soft cotton against his skin while Gloria May ran her hands up his back. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” Her voice syrupy as she pulled him back against her body.

“I shouldn’t have to be down their long.” He could feel her hands running down his arms.

“Good, I want you back in this bed with me.” She kissed his neck, “Or in the shower with me.”

A primal groan escaped from him, “You’re making me really want to skip out tonight.”

“Good, but I know you need to be down there.” She sighed before pulling away and grabbing her bra off the floor.

“I’ll bring up dinner, we’ll put on a movie, and then you can get me back in that bed.” He rose to his feet, looking back, a slight pang of guilt twisted in his stomach as he watched Gloria May pull on her clothes.

“Just get going so you can get back up here.” She shooed him out of the room, before she looked around the apartment. She’d spent so much time up here the last few months, no matter how deeply she and Zay connected, there had been a wall between them. She had suspected it was Gigi, she wasn’t blind, she’d seen the way the girl had looked at Zay when he didn’t know she was watching him for months.

Today had been different, something changed in the way he touched her, the way he needed her, the way he gave himself to her.

She made the bed, straightened up around the apartment before going to her bag, pulling out her laptop and going through her work assignments. Putting together a list of what she needed to write and for which clients.

As she was preparing to start the research for an article for a local woman’s magazine, an email popped up on her screen. She squinted at the screen as she read the subject line before opening the actual letter.

“Why does this name sound familiar?” Gloria Maya went over the information again, “What kind of name is Farkle anyways?”

She quickly typed a reply that she would love the opportunity to interview the candidate in New York, and would wait for further information.

She went back to the work she already had to do, getting through an article about vacuuming and carpet care before she started a piece on wireless doorbells. Just as she was finishing that one, she received another email confirming that she would be interviewing this Farkle Minkus man, that she would be leaving on a flight in the morning out of Dallas, and hotel arrangements had already been set up.

Quickly going over her doorbell article one last time, she put it aside to begin reading about her interview subject, making a few notes here and there before reading through the information pdf she’d been sent. “Abigail Adams High, why does that sound familiar?”

“Glor, can you open the door?” Zay called from the other side.

She set her laptop down on the coffee table, before going to the door, stopping short when she saw the photo hanging on the wall of Zay from high school graduation, he had three girls and another boy all grouped together. She realized one right away was Riley, and the logo they held up clearly said Abigail Adams High School.

“Gloria May?” Zay’s voice was strained.

She snapped out of her daze for just a moment to open the door, he carried a tray with food from downstairs; an order of jalapeño poppers, a BBQ Cheese Burger, and an order of Chicken tenders. “Sorry, I got distracted by this picture.”

Zay glanced over his shoulder, “From Graduation?”

“Yeah, you and Riley, I’m guessing the blonde is Maya.”

“Yeah and Farkle and Isadora.”

Gloria May blinked, “Farkle Minkus?”

“Yeah, why?”

She crossed the room to Zay, “I just got hired to interview him.”

Zay handed her the jalapeño poppers, “For real?”

“Yeah, you didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

“Nope” Zay went to the fridge grabbing two beers before coming back to the couch, “Farkle hasn’t spoken to any of us since he and Smackle bought Riley out. Oops, I don’t think I was supposed to mention that.”

Gloria May twisted her beer open as her eyes took Zay in at this moment, “What do you mean bought Riley out?”

“Um, I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Zay opened his beer and took a long chug.

Her eyes narrowed at him, “I have ways of getting information out of you Zay.”

“I don’t know anything, really. The only one who would know why they kicked Riley out of the business she created would be them.”

“They kicked her out of the business she created? Is that why she’s started the resort, is that where she got the money? Wait, what did Riley do before?”

Zay kept the beer bottle at his lips, wondering if he had to keep drinking this or he could pretend to drink to not answer her questions. He felt the bottle pulled from his mouth as she looked into his eyes, “Off the record Zay, so tell me what you know, but you look like a volcano of information about to erupt.”

“Lucas, honey, wake up.” Riley shook her husband, pushing him off her, watching as his eyes jolted open. “I need to pee.”

His eyes cloudy with sleep stared at her for a moment confused.

“I can’t walk, sprained both ankles, I could use that strong husband of mine to help.” She could see clarity forming as a sleepy nod came from him before he lifted her up and carried her to the bathroom.

When she was done he helped her to the sink and then back to the bed where she tried to find a position that was comfortable and kept both her ankles elevated, “So, I slept a little while you napped, but I also was awake for a little while and thinking. We are never going to survive my parents, and your parents being here. And if this whole thing about your Dad retiring is true, I’m thinking they thought they would live here, and let’s be honest you know my parents are going to be hanging around a lot more then they think they are.”

He rubbed his eyes, “My parents, at least my mother is going to drive Gigi insane if what I’ve seen so far is any indication.”

“Considering your mother called her the slut of Rosewood Springs, yeah.”

Lucas leaned on his forearms, “What?”

“Gigi was venting about it before the accident. I don’t know.” Riley shrugged, “But, both parents in the house is just too much. So, I was thinking we just rent a couple of trailers or something and set your parents up in one, mine in another…and maybe later we can figure out something more permanent.”

“You are brilliant” he told her before taking her face in his hands and kissing her quickly, “We have some hook ups out by the barn just for this. You look online for two we can rent or whatever. I’m going to go make dinner, set up the wedding video and get the family off our backs for a little while.”

“Don’t forget about me up here, all alone.” She pouted as he handed her the phone and her laptop.

“I won’t, you know it.” He kissed her forehead before going to unlock the door and escape to the kitchen where he found his mother and Topanga studying the pantry, “Okay ladies, out, I’m making dinner, Riley is resting so let her be.”

“Lucas we’re here to help.” Topanga took something from the fridge and Lucas took it and put it back.

“That’s great, but I’m making dinner, and then we’ll watch the wedding video.” He told them as he gently pushed them out of the kitchen. They both stared at him for a moment.

Bonnie went and sat on the couch next to Grady, “Your son just kicked me out of my kitchen.”

“I think it’s his and Riley’s now.” Grady looked up from his tablet, “This is his house, his ranch, so please remove the stick from your ass.”

Topanga and Cory’s eyes were wide as they looked to each other, before settling back to the television where he’d been watching a football game with teams he really had no care for.

Grady and Bonnie fell into silence, tension thick in the room as the only sound for the next thirty or so minutes was the football game. Lucas came out with a tray of food placing it on the coffee table, “To get you all started, you can thank Riley for having these prepped in the freezer.”

Before they could thank him, he vanished into his office, going to the small safe and pulling out the DVD with their wedding ceremony on it. He left it on the desk before going up to the bedroom, Riley was just closing her laptop with a satisfied smile, “What did you do Mrs. Friar?”

“Love the sound of it.” She beamed, “I ordered two very nice RVs, maybe too nice.”

“When will they be here?” He went to lift her from the bed.

“Tomorrow morning, have they killed each other yet?”

“No, but tension is thick downstairs.” He cradled her in his arms, “I warmed up some of those prepped appetizers you made from the freezer, and I have a quick soup simmering on the stove. We’ll get you, and the babies fed, parents can see our wedding, and then hopefully we’ll feel less guilt.”

“With the way they’re acting, I don’t feel guilty about eloping at all. I highly recommend it.”

“So, do I.” he carried her carefully down to the living room, helping her get comfortable on the couch before going back to check on the soup. After giving it a quick stir he went back into the living room to find the parents fussing over Riley, doing whatever they could to make her comfortable. “Dinner should be ready soon, then we’ll watch the DVD.”

“Good” Bonnie waved her son away, “Do you know how to knit? You should learn how to knit.”

“I do know.” Riley looked to her mother for support.

“Are you going to breastfeed or are you going with formula?” Topanga tilted her head to the side.

Riley was stunned, she just found out she was pregnant, with twins no less. “I don’t know, I think that I have to find out what will be best, especially with twins. You guys, I just found out I was pregnant, the news is still settling with me. Whatever decisions need to be made, Lucas and I will make them together. We will decide what is best for our children.”

Topanga and Bonnie exchanged a look before both sat back in their seats. Riley closed her eyes for a moment, ready to get this over with, she was ready to fall asleep again. She tuned the chatter out around her for the next few minutes before Lucas came in with a tray of bowls filled with chicken taco soup. He handed the bowls out carefully before running to the office, grabbing the DVD.

Once everything was set up, he sat next to Riley, his own bowl of soup in his hands as their parents became transfixed with the images on the screen.

“It’s beautiful” Topanga’s voice soft as she watched her daughter walk towards Lucas on the screen.

Cory’s eyes were transfixed on the screen, watching his daughter marry the man he always knew she would marry.

Bonnie reached for a tissue, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen her son look so happy, proud, as he did on the screen in front of her. Guilty twisted around her that she could’ve thought Riley wasn’t the one for him.

“Beautiful wedding” Grady told him when the video was done, as he began cleaning up. “Get your wife upstairs so she can rest, we’ll clean up.”

“Thank you, Mr. Friar.” Riley felt Lucas already lifting her up before anyone could object.

“Call me Grady” He called to them as Lucas was already halfway up the stairs.

Lucas got Riley to the bedroom, helped her get ready for bed before getting himself ready. “Well, we got through that.”

“Just barely.” Riley sighed as she snuggled under the covers, “but now we can move forward.”

Lucas chuckled as he moved closer to his wife, “Just wait until everyone in town knows we’re married.”

“I don’t want to think about that right now. I just want to sleep.”

“Then sleep, rest, you need it.” He kissed the top of her head as she drifted to sleep.

When the Friars had sent Deacon home, he showered, finding himself crying as the hot water rained down on him. Gigi had almost died, she wanted him, but her words felt hollow with the knowledge that she had slept with Zay, after becoming engaged to him. He’d heard her confess through the haze of drugs that she loved Zay, yet she kept saying she wanted to marry him.

Deacon didn’t know what to think as he changed into comfortable clothes, laying down on his bed, the pillows smelled like Gigi and while he tried to fight it, didn’t want to feel it at all, it was comforting, safe, as he breathed it in.

The sun was starting to set when he woke up, he hadn’t meant to sleep that long. He cleaned up before grabbing a few things and putting them in a bag. No matter how hurt he was now, Gigi needed him, she wanted him by her side so he was going to do what he could for her.

His stomach tight as he drove back to the hospital making a quick stop on the way. When he got back to her room she was just getting back into the bed with help from a nurse. “I’m sorry I was gone so long Gigi.”

“You came back.” She smiled.

He pushed her blonde hair away from her eyes, “Yeah, of course I did. I just slept longer than I anticipated.”

She took his hand, tightly in hers, “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

“I’m hurt Gigi, but I love you, you need me, you want me with you. I’m not going anywhere.” He handed her a bag, “I thought you might need theses.”

Gigi looked in the bag, her hairbrush, tooth brush and a few other personal care items, “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” He picked up the brush, gently working out the tangles in her hair, “I love you, I want you to love me.”

She touched his hand as he passed by her shoulder, “I do love you Deacon, you need to trust it.”

He sucked in his lips, “Give me time Gigi.”

She gently leaned her body against his, “I’m yours Deacon, and I’m going to do what I can to prove that to you.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to brush her hair before grabbing a hair tie from the bag and pulling it into a low ponytail. He kissed the top of her head and then pulled a flower arrangement from his bag, setting it down on the counter. “for you.”

“Stay with me.”

“I will” he took her hand in his as he sat in the chair beside her bed, neither spoke, the room was filled with the low buzz of the television.

#Thunder Chasing The Wind #Riley Matthews #Lucas Friar #Rucas #Rucas Fanfic #Girl Meets World #GMW Fanfic #Zay Babineaux #Gigi Friar #I'm back

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ian-the-existential-crisis · 8 years ago

Text

Fairly Lost

A cross post and probably the worst story ever AO3 FF

Frustrated, Prince Ranmaru slammed his bedroom door shut. He kicked off his nice shiny boots, sending one flying across the room. He was almost old enough to succeed his father and take the throne, but yet again his old man had forced him away from a negotiations meeting. Apparently, the last time he and Premafrost's prince, Camus met they had done nothing but argue, which but a small bit of tense on the alliance they were trying to form. It wasn't like it was Ranmaru's fault. He didn't want to listen for hours on end how he should be more princely.

There was no way he was going to listen to that guy. That guy with his piercing blue stare, his light frost-like skin, and long blonde hair. He was like walking perfection. And people who were perfect would never- no, could never understand people who weren't perfect.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he had been kicked out of the meeting. Sure he was mad, he had every right to be in that room knowing what was going to happen to his country. But at the same time, this gave him a chance at freedom. He could seldom slip away from the palace to venture into the great city of Tokyo that his father ruled over with an iron fist.

So he shifted off his royal attire and slipped into something less conspicuous. One last glance back at his door, to make sure completely alone before he bent down a retrieving a small metal box from under his bed. The tattered jeans and black shirt were nothing for a maid or other servant to worry about. More often than not he would wear jeans and a tee-shirt around the castle when he knew there would be no unwanted guests. But this box was something different entirely. The contents of it were only two things. A silver wig and a single purple contact. Now if he were ever caught and asked about it, he would claim that having only one purple eye was cool, but in truth the first time he had left the palace after getting these necessary items, he had lost one. He had only been a child of the age of ten and two at that point. But it didn't matter, as long as he had the silver wig to hide away his chocolate brown locks it was unlikely he would be discovered.

He slipped the contact into place, adding color to his right eye, and wig under his arm. That could wait until he was out of the small hole in the wall. The hole that was hidden by the thorny rosebush. The plant that he always managed to scratch himself on. But what were a few scratches compared to seeing the people of Tokyo? To be among them, not as their prince, but as another person. When he was out there he was just another commoner. One day he would rule over Tokyo in his father's stead, so he should know how those people lived. It was his duty to make sure that he was doing what was right for his people.

Or so he told himself. Sure that was probably a big part of it. But the smaller part of him just wanted to be free of the chains that came with being royalty. For him, his home was a cage with an open door. But at the same time, he was a bird with clipped wings. There was always the option of leaving through the front gates, but then he would just be Prince Ranmaru Kurosaki.

If there was one sight that Ranmaru loved to see it would have to be the cherry blossoms. He loved walking among the untamed cherry trees, watching their petals fly through the air like pink snow. It seemed like they could stretch on forever. It wasn't too far from the palace that a grove of them grew. But like all good things, after a while the cherry trees became sparse and dark oak filled in, leading to the northern forest that separated Tokyo from Premafrost. He had heard that the dark oak went on for miles and miles, days and day until it reached a grove of Mimosa trees. But on the other side was snowy, and the home of the cold but beautiful Silk Palace. He guessed that they only called it the silk palace because of the beautiful silk trees that kept them safe from the dark woods.

Ranmaru had never been there, but he talked to commoners who travel between the bordering countries for work. The Silk Palace stood tall, taller than his own palace, like a giant white icicle. Or so the travelers claimed. He doubted he would ever go there.

"Young man." Someone behind him called.

His breath caught in his throat as he turned. To his surprise, he turned to see a familiar redhead with browned skin. He couldn't help the small, almost non-existent, grin that began to spread across his face. "Saotome."

Shining Saotome was one traveler that he talked to. The older man as an ailing wife and two young children. He, more often than no, took his merchandise over to Premafrost to sell and left his oldest son to tend to his shop in Tokyo.

"What are you doing so far back in the cherry grove, boy?" He asked, hands holding woven baskets.

"I didn't realize how far back I was. Is there a problem?"

The older man just sighed heavily at him. "Don't your parents teach ya nothing? The dark oak patch houses this frightening evil spirit. Come on away from there before ya get yourself cursed."

An urban legend. The dark woods fairy was somewhat well known. According to people from both Premafrost and Tokyo that once the silk or cherry trees grow sparse there is a figure that lurks in the darkness of the oak trees.

"I don't believe in that kind of thing." He sniffed at the air, moving away from the dark woods and making his way next to the man. "Then what are you doing here?"

Saotome stiffened. "I was on my way back home when I thought that it would be nice to see the blossoms."

They turned and walked away, talking about Saotome's travels, what he had sold, and various other stupid did glance back behind him as they left. He didn't believe in a mythical being just living in those woods. So he had no trouble walking away, leaving both the cherry trees and the urban legend behind in favor of something that was real. Something that mattered.

"So you don't believe in me?"

Those words had Ranmaru bolting up. He had yet again fallen asleep at his desk. As a prince, he had many duties to attend to, especially after vanishing for the better part of the day. Honestly speaking, he was the kind of person who could fall asleep anywhere, because he did so when he had the chance. So at first, he thought those words were probably part of a dream that he was having. But as he rubbed his half-lidded eyes, he noticed he wasn't the only one in his room.

Sitting in the bay window sat a pale, so pale he was almost translucent, man. His bright shoulder length cyan hair reflecting the moon's glow making it seem brighter than it already was. If he were wearing shoes, he would have been dressed from head to toe in white.

Ranmaru's eyes widened. How in the world had he gotten in? His window was on the second floor, and he had pulled the rope he used to escape back up into his room, stashing it as far back in his closet as he could get. "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

The male tilted his head. "I am Ai." Was all he said.

"Ai? Okay, but who are you?"

"I am Ai."

Searching for anything he could use as a weapon, Ranmaru asked. "Okay... What are you?" Since asking who was getting him nowhere.

"I am the fairy of the dark woods."

The brown haired prince frowned. "Oh, I get it. This is some kind of big joke, isn't it? Look, I don't know how you figured out who I am, and I don't care, but you have ten seconds to leave before I call the guards."

"You won't call the guards." He sounded so sure of himself.

"What makes you think that?"

"If you truly intended to have them come and get me, you won't have asked who I was twice. In fact, you should have called them the moment you realized I was in here with you but didn't."

"Well, that was..."

"You thought you were dreaming." Ai, or so he claimed to be, finished for him. "I can assure you, this is not a dream."

Ranmaru's brow furrowed. "Then why are you here? Just to prove me wrong."

"... No."

"Then why?"

"I wanted you to believe in me." He said, shifting. "I know it's illogical to believe in something you have been old is a myth."

"Then why ask?"

He didn't answer. He just sat there watching the prince with cyan blue eyes as he waited for the prince to do something, anything. However, Ranmaru did nothing. He simply waited for the 'fairy' to do something and fell asleep in the process. When he woke up the next morning Ai was gone, the window was firmly shut. As if nothing had happened.

However, he knew that it did.

One occasion wasn't enough to make Ranmaru believe. But two months straight was another story. And sometimes Ai didn't even wait until he was asleep, he climbed through the window. There would be times, in the middle of the day, that he just appear in the prince's room.

"What do you want from me?" Ranmaru shouted at him.

"I enjoy watching you." He said. "I have never been able to watch a human so closely before."

"You say that as if you weren't human."

"I am not." He nodded. "I am what you humans call a fairy."

"And what is a fairy?"

"I do not know."

Ranmaru frowned. He was saying that he was something but didn't know what he was. How could he not know what he was? "So you don't know what you are?"

"I know what I am called. Is that not enough?"

"I guess maybe if you're an idiot." He huffed. "You're probably just a lost little kid that have been lost in those woods. I knew there was no such thing as a fairy haunting those woods."

"If that is what you believe." Ai frowned. He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Ranmaru scrambled for him, barely catching his arm. "Maybe you should just stay here. I'm sure we can find your family."

"What makes you so sure I have a family to find?"

"Because you're just a lost kid. And it's my duty as Prince of Tokyo to help you."

"If that's what you think."

"Don't worry." Ranmaru pulled him into a hug. His silver eyes glancing around the room. "Until I find your family I will stay with you."

"I don't understand your desire to help me. You don't even know if I have a family."

The prince pushed him away. His face reddened, whether it be from the embarrassing thing he was going to say or the anger he felt that was evident in his voice as he yelled. "Then I will aways stay with you!"

#utapri #uta no prince sama #fanfic #ai mikaze #kurosaki ranmaru #i don't even know #i don't understand #where did this come from

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antomec · 8 years ago

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How to Pun Yourself a Girlfriend

Another BixLu, which is yet again another high school AU (forgive me). This is also up on ff. Don’t forget to review!

Word count: 1953

Rating: T for swearing.

Summary: In which Bickslow tries to find the owner of an elusive snort.

"No, seriously, how do astronauts throw a party?" Bickslow asked, grinning wildly.

"I swear Bicks, I will punch you so hard-"

"They planet!" Bickslow yelled.

Laxus did not delay – he punched Bickslow so quickly, he didn't even have time to blink. Though he got punched in the arm, it didn't hurt any less.

"See, I told you, you're gonna get hurt one of these days," Evergreen quipped from Laxus' side.

Bickslow however, did not hear her, because he was busy scanning the crowd for something he thought he'd heard.

Evergreen hit the side of his head with her paper fan, screeching, "Look at me when I'm yelling at you, goddamn it-"

Bickslow let the thought dissipate – but for a second there, he could've sworn he heard someone snort at his joke.

They were at the cafeteria, when Bickslow decided to joke his way into his friends' conversation.

As soon as he opened his mouth, however, Freed raised his hand, and said solemnly, "Don't even think about it."

"Aw, come on, Freed, you know you like it," Bickslow whined.

"No, Bickslow. Frankly, your horrible comedy is a waste of time." Freed was always savage with his words when he delivered them.

"You know what else a waste of time is?" Bickslow waggled his eyebrows wickedly. "A belt made of wristwatches, that's what."

Yes, this time he was sure of it, someone behind him was laughing their ass off. And at the exact moment his punch line was delivered?

Oh, glory be – someone actually liked his horrible puns.

But before he could turn around and look at who his potential audience was, a hand came flying out of nowhere and slapped him upside the head.

"Ow, Evergreen! Why the fuck would you do that?" Bickslow cried.

"Because you're ridiculous, that's why," she explained, the school bell going off to underline her words. It was time to get back to class.

And with that bell, went the chance to find his mysterious admirer.

"You're off your fucking rocker," Laxus replied. "No one thinks you're funny."

"Ouch," said Bickslow, clutching his heart, "Way to destroy a guy's soul."

"You have no soul."

"Aw, thank you, Laxus-baby," Bickslow crooned.

Laxus levelled him with a glare. They were on their way to sixth period English when Bickslow started his crazy theory on someone laughing at all his stupid jokes.

"I'm telling you, there really is-"

"Bickslow, will you just shut up and take a seat?"

"Fine, but you know what? I will find this dude. I will find him and we'll both come to your house in the middle of your night and perform a joke-off in your bedroom. Bickslow seated himself at the back of the room, Laxus occupying the seat next to him.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Laxus asked incredulously. "I live with Makarov, have you forgotten? Dude has a shotgun placed in the kitchen."

"Silence, Mr. Dreyar!" The teacher yelled.

Laxus swore under his breath.

The class was dreary, extremely so, by Bickslow's standards. But then, as his friends would undoubtedly argue, he had no standards. But that would change if he found his admirer.

Bickslow was a man on a mission.

"You aren't in a novel, Bickslow," Evergreen chastised.

"Do you have a better idea to catch this dude? If not, we'll be going with my crappy idea." Bickslow scribbled something down on a sticky note and stuck it on his locker.

Evergreen studied the note and said quietly, "I do not have the slightest idea of what you've written down. And I doubt that your mystery person will either."

Sometimes, when Evergreen spoke, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Freed, and it'd always scare Bickslow a little bit. He'd die before he admitted it, though.

"And I don't give a flying fuck. Let's beat it, Ever."

When Bickslow dragged a protesting Freed down the hallway to his locker, he tried not to hope for a reply. This was actually quite easy, mainly because of Freed.

"Bicks, for all you know, you may not have an admirer – it might have been some random person laughing with their friends. Are you this desperate for company?"

Bickslow gasped. "Freed, there's another sticky note."

And true to his words, there was another note attached. Bickslow tore it from the locker wall and read it silently. Then, strangely enough, he pinched the bridge of his nose and handed the note to Freed.

Yes, I exist. And I do understand your jokes.

"They're real?" Freed asked, mildly disgusted, for who could ever share such a fucked up sense of humour with Bickslow?

"Yes! I knew it! Laxus better unload that shotgun, 'cause here I come!"

Freed simply chuckled at his friend's behaviour.

When Bickslow told Laxus and Evergreen of his new plan, they simply shook their heads.

"Honestly," Evergreen commented dryly, "I'm surprised that whoever it was could actually read your note."

"See, this is why I never include you in my plans. Why can't y'all just be like Freed, and accept my plans?"

At that, both Evergreen and Laxus swivelled their heads simultaneously to glare at Freed. Freed put up his hands with a sheepish look. "I figured it was better to just play along."

Laxus scratched the back of his head. "I suppose if it'll get you off my back, then-"

"Fine," Evergreen interrupted. "But only if you stop it with your stupid-ass jokes."

"Done. Once I find this dude, I won't ever bother you."

They were on their way to the cafeteria, when Bickslow started bobbing excitedly and chattering like a fool. "Do you guys remember the plan? Laxus, no punching; Evergreen, no yelling; Freed, just stay your usual stoic self."

They seated themselves at their usual place, and Bickslow sneaked a glance around him. There didn't seem to be anyone out of place near them.

But then again, they were high-schoolers.

Bickslow clapped his hands together. "Alright team! Execute phase one!"

"Can I just tear him apart already?" Laxus asked.

"Freed, my dear boy," Bickslow started.

"Oh dear god, no," Freed complained.

"Do you know why cranes always stand with one leg up?"

Freed took a deep breath and answered, "Hit me."

"Because they can't stand with two legs up!"

There!

Amidst Freed's groans and Evergreen's tears, was a snort. A noisy snort.

Bickslow whipped around and pointed at the boy directly behind him. "You!" Bickslow accused.

The boy he was pointing at had odd pink hair, and he started out of shock. "What'd I do this time?" He sighed.

"You snorted!" Bickslow announced triumphantly.

"Yeah, that wasn't me. Try again," the boy told him and turned around, collected his tray, and walked out with his friends, leaving behind a very dumbfounded Bickslow.

"I don't know what happened, Freed. I was so sure it was him. I'm never going to find this person, am I?" Bickslow slung his bag over one shoulder dejectedly.

"In all probability," Freed paused, pretending to think about it, "No."

Bickslow sighed deeply, and ambled his way over to his locker. Something bright blue stopped him in his tracks.

"Freed, is that what I think it is?" Bickslow asked meekly, pointing at the offending piece of paper.

Are you trying to find me?

Freed plucked it and read the words. Then he held the sticky note to his nose and sniffed it.

"Freed, what the hell are you-"

"It's a girl. I'm very sure of it. Judging by her handwriting, and her choice of perfume, I suspect that we are dealing with a female."

Freed's style of language was always peculiar, but Bickslow decided to address the bigger issue. "What in fuck's name do you mean by 'choice of perfume', Freed?"

"Oh, one of my ex-girlfriends used to wear it. I am very well acquainted with it."

"I really hope it isn't your ex-girlfriend."

"As do I, Bickslow, as do I."

"Look, all you have to do is write a note to her and tell her to meet you," Evergreen said. "She'll most likely be a nerd anyway, so use references to something you like, and ask her out."

"A-Ask her out?" Bickslow exclaimed.

"Yes, ask her out. You have no shame, she likes your sense of humour, and we are free from the travesty known as you."

"Well, when you put it like that-"

"I know what I am talking about, Bickslow!”

Silence fell upon the pair. Until Evergreen decided to break it.

"What do you even have to lose?"

And that, Bickslow realised, was a damn good point.

"Yoda Obi-Wan for me. So will you wait by the oak tree in front of the school for me?" Laxus read out. "Really? This is what you spent the whole of last night working on?"

"Laxus – my man, my buddy. If she's anything like me, she will love this."

"After all this blows over, if you ever come near me with another one of your stupid puns, I will punch you into next week." Laxus raised his fist threateningly.

"Threat established. Shutting up, now."

Bickslow stood by the oak tree alone.

Evergreen had refused to come for moral support, even when Bickslow had begged her. What if things went awry? Then Ever wouldn't be around to swoop in and bust his ass out like the kick-ass lady she was.

Maybe I should've begged harder.

He went back to his futile girl-spotting. School was finally over – he had his last period free, so he had left early so that his mystery person wouldn't get the jump on him.

"You may be a bit disappointed – I haven't really seen Star Wars."

Bickslow started. Looks like she did get the jump on me.

But that voice, that glorious voice – who in fuck's name did it belong to?

Bickslow whirled around.

And by the guy above, Freed was right. It was a girl.

She had long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, big expressive brown eyes, a shit-eating grin on her face and really nice legs, goddamn it.

But the first words out of his mouth were, "You're tiny."

"You're just freakishly tall," she snapped back.

"Who hasn't seen Star Wars? Every nerd and their mother has seen Star Wars."

"Not this nerd!" She shouted, pointing a thumb at herself.

"That's it! We're going out to see Star Wars!" Bickslow yelled.

She was surprised at that. "You don't even know my name."

"You don't know mine either. So we're both on the same page." Bickslow grinned wickedly. "My name is Sir Likes-Star-Wars-a-Lot," he said, and grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously. "What is yours, miss?"

She laughed –a clear sound that made Bickslow extremely happy – and replied, "Miss Lucy Heartfilia. And there is no way that that is your real name."

Bickslow smirked. "You're right. My name isn't Lucy Heartfilia – it's Bickslow."

"Well then, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Bickslow," Lucy curtsied.

"Likewise, Miss Heartfilia."

For a moment, neither of them said anything, choosing to simply grin at each other.

Lucy spoke. "So, about that date."

"Yeah, yeah, I barely know you, plus you don't wanna go out with me. It's okay – I get it." Bickslow grinned sheepishly.

"Actually, I was going to say yes."

Bickslow looked skeptical.

"Well," Lucy added, "Who wouldn't want to go out with a boy who makes them laugh?" She took a step closer. "Besides," she whispered, "You're kinda cute. Especially when you try to be a joker."

Bickslow couldn't stop grinning. He had finally found his mystery person, and she liked him for his idiocy. Though he wasn't completely sure if she wouldn't punch him if he did something stupid.

Bickslow wondered if she’d like to break into Laxus’ home for their first date.

#i know i wrote it #but bickslow thinking of their first date has me cracking up too much #p sure makarov is gonna shoot them both #ft #bixlu #i suddenly love writing fics?#wut?#halp #by sending me prompts #reviews are appreciated af #please reblog and don't leave #fun fact #much like lucy i too have never seen star wars #TTTF writes #how to pun yourself a girlfriend [bixlu]

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