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hanzajesthanza · 10 months

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For "send a character" ask - Zoltan Chivay.

send me a character and i will tell you my:

first impression

when i first met him in witcher 3, i'll be honest, he did not make much of an impression on me... there wasn't much context given to his and geralt's relationship so i kind of shrugged him off

in baptism of fire though i was more amused by his first appearance, and the wolf song made me laugh

impression now

this turned into my whole analysis and thoughts on zoltan's role in the story, so... here you are.

upon my rereads of baptism of fire, i think i have a better understanding of zoltan's role.

zoltan is one of the two "wise kings" geralt meets in his journey (the other being regis)... i mean, zoltan, sultan, rēgis, rēx.

zoltan advises geralt about altruism - helping others, whereas regis advises geralt about accepting company - helping himself. these are the two biggest challenges geralt faces, and this book is all about his character development as he embarks on his hero's journey...

geralt always wants to help others, and never wants to accept help.

zoltan advises him that he can only help as much as he can, and cannot save the entire world:

‘Unbridled altruism is a huge vice of mine,’ he explained. ‘I simply have to do good. I am a sensible dwarf, however, and know that I’m unable to do everyone good. Were I to attempt to be good to everyone, to the entire world and to all the creatures living in it, it would be a drop of fresh water in the salt sea. In other words, a wasted effort. Thus, I decided to do specific good; good which would not go to waste. I’m good to myself and my immediate circle.’

notably, this lesson comes first (in chapter 2).

of course, zoltan breaks his own rule, as he has taken the women from kernow under his wing, and later has taken even more refugees under his protection:

Geralt turned his head, pointed with his chin at the two women and the two children, and then bored his eyes into the dwarf. Zoltan cleared his throat. ‘We came across the two young ’uns and the women here in Angren,’ he explained in hushed tones. ‘They’d got lost during their escape. They were alone, fearful and hungry, so we took them on board, and we’re looking after them. It just seemed to happen.’ ‘It just seemed to happen,’ Geralt echoed, smiling faintly. ‘You’re an incorrigible altruist, Zoltan Chivay.’ ‘We all have our faults. I mean, you’re still determined to rescue your girl.’

later (in chapter 5) regis gives geralt a following advice: that though he wants to help his ciri, he must also accept help:

"You’ll pass through fire, which burns, but also purges. And you’ll do it alone. For were someone to support you in this, help you, take on even a scrap of that baptism of fire, that pain, that penance, they would, by the same token, impoverish you. They would deprive you of part of the expiation you desire, which would be owed to them for their involvement. After all, it should be your exclusive expiation. Only you have a debt to pay off, and you don’t want to run up debts with other creditors at the same time. (...)" "A sense of guilt, as well as the need for expiation, for a cleansing baptism of fire, aren’t things you can claim an exclusive right to. Life differs from banking because it has debts which are paid off by running up debts with others."

so as you see, zoltan is one-half of the advice geralt needs to accept in order to grow and move forward in the story.

it's no surprise then, to me, that when geralt and his newfound company runs into zoltan and his company again at the end of the book (chapter 7), it is zoltan and regis speaking with geralt apart from the others.

a parallel with zoltan's comments about how he picked up the refugee women and children:

'Thank you for your aid, barber-surgeon. I see you’ve also joined the Witcher’s company.’ ‘It just seemed to happen.’ ‘Mmm,’ Zoltan said and stroked his beard.

and then, it is the joint three of them that receive the girl's prophecy and do not say a word of it to the others... the old king (regis), the current king (zoltan), the new king (geralt)

another role of zoltan in relation to geralt's development is that he is a model for geralt to become a leader of his own company.

the first time they meet, geralt has only dandelion and milva with him, who he is also trying to shun the company of because he doesn't want them to risk their necks for his journey. it is then they meet zoltan leading his company of five (four dwarves, one gnome).

they separate, but, at the end of the book, when they meet again, geralt has now accrued his full company (minus angouleme, who was an unpredicted addition by sapkowski). although he has not yet stepped into the role of leader, geralt has followed zoltan chivay's example: he has found a company. and zoltan comments on this:

'I wish you and your company luck. It’s a strange company, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ ‘They want to help,’ the Witcher said softly. ‘That’s something new for me. Which is why I’ve decided not to enquire into their motives.

finally, zoltan is the one who gives geralt his sihill, the legendary hero his legendary weapon. when they part, he gives him his sword, to embark on his journey... quite poetic.

i also appreciate how zoltan and percival introducing geralt to sihill in chapter 2 of baptism of fire is a humorous contrast to the dramatic introduction of ciri to her zireael in chapter 4 of tower of the swallow.

and in the end, in the last chapter of lady of the lake, when geralt tries to put his sword down, he tries to return it to zoltan, who refuses. of course, he had to use his sword "for the last time," then, but the identity of zoltan as sword-giver remains consistent.

favorite moment

alright, i technically have two favorite moments, but i'm packaging them as they're directly related to one another.

the first part is when zoltan gives geralt his sihill, telling him to remember him when he kills ciri's enemies. and geralt tells him how he won't forget him for his selfless altruism is not easily forgotten in this world:

‘That’s wise,’ Zoltan said, removing the dwarven sihil in its lacquered scabbard, wrapped in catskins, from his back. ‘Here you go, take it. Before we go our separate ways.’ ‘Zoltan…’ ‘Don’t say anything, just take it. We’ll sit out the war in the mountains. We have no need of hardware. But it’ll be pleasant to recall, from time to time, that this Mahakam-forged sihil is in safe hands and whistles in a just cause. That it won’t bring shame on itself. And when you use the blade to slaughter your Ciri’s persecutors, take one down for Caleb Stratton. And remember Zoltan Chivay and the dwarven forges.’ ‘You can be certain I will,’ Geralt said, taking the sword and slinging it across his back. ‘You can be certain I’ll remember. In this rotten world, Zoltan Chivay, goodness, honesty and integrity become deeply engraved in the memory.’

the second part of this is the follow-up. in lady of the lake, at stygga castle when they are fighting vilgefortz... sihill does something incredible, parts vilgefortz's stream of fire:

Geralt rushed at him, wiping plaster from his face. Vilgefortz turned his eyes towards him and a hand from which flames exploded with a roar. The Witcher instinctively shielded himself with his sword. The rune-covered dwarven blade protected him, astonishingly, cutting the stream of fire in half. ‘Ha!’ roared Vilgefortz. ‘Impressive, Witcher! And what say you to this?’

zoltan isn't present in at stygga castle, of course. but i remembered him and the dwarven forges.

idea for a story

i want to know how he got engaged to eudora brekekeks breckenriggs. what kind of marriage customs prevail amongst the dwarves?

unpopular opinion

zoltan should be shipped with more characters. i think his ships with geralt and dandelion are vastly underrated. i think the fandom forgets him a lot. just my two cents

favorite relationship

zoltan and percival's friendship is wonderful. i do love how he often reminds percival to go easy on the infodumping...

‘(...) Take this, little miss. It’s beryllium aluminium cyclosilicate, popularly known as…’ ‘An emerald,’ the dwarf finished off the sentence. ‘Don’t confuse the child, she won’t remember anyway.’ ‘Oh, how pretty! And how green! Thank you very, very much!’ ‘Enjoy it and may it bring you fortune.’ ‘And don’t lose it,’ Dandelion muttered. ‘Because that little pebble’s worth as much as a small farm.’ ‘Get away,’ Zoltan said, adorning his cap with the cornflowers the girl had given him. ‘It’s only a stone, nothing special. Take care of yourself, little miss. (...)'

their friendship is a lot like geralt and dandelion's in this way, it's reminiscent of...

‘How would you prefer it, in verse or in normal speech?’ ‘Normal speech.’ ‘As you please,’ Dandelion said, not putting his lute down. ‘Listen then, noble gentlemen, to what occurred a week ago near the free town of Barefield. ‘Twas thus, that at the crack of dawn, when the rising sun had barely tinged pink the shrouds of mist hanging pendent above the meadows—’ ‘It was supposed to be normal speech,’ Geralt reminded him.

favorite headcanon

i headcanon that after some time zoltan goes to novigrad to check on how percival is doing, and as soon as he walks in the door, field marshal windbag has already squawkingly taken flight to perch on his shoulder and pull on his hair. parrots recognize and miss their owners... he and percival have joint custody of the field marshal

also not much of a headcanon, but modern au design, he would look spectacular in a tropical shirt with a bucket hat and fanny pack

#zoltan chivay #c: zoltan #the witcher books #book: baptism of fire #analysis #ask meme

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strideofpride · 10 months

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Watching your greys journey has got me thinking about Izzie anew, and how they like….really did abandon her character sometime mid season 3. It’s like….they lost focus of the profile they were building of her in the first two seasons and then just decided to use her as the dumping ground for character traits and aspects of stereotypical femininity that they didn’t want to give to Meredith or Cristina. She became less focused around who she is and more about whoever Cristina and Meredith are not.

No like exactly!!! Izzie had always been a foil to Meredith and Cristina, sure. They’re “dark and twisted” and she’s sunny and optimistic. They both are implied to have grown up very well off (Meredith Grey is probably the number 1 fictional nepo baby), while Izzie grew up very poor and worked her way through med school. But it was never a “Izzie’s girly and they’re tomboys” kinda thing. Izzie was serious as a surgeon despite no one else taking her seriously! Addison said she was the best she’s seen in years re: her skills in obstetrics (once again, we deserved the Addison/Izzie mentorship arc!!!). Izzie came back from her crisis of confidence after Denny (which btw I don’t understand why she gets blamed for his death. Stealing the heart, sure, but it’s not her fault he died from a stroke) by drilling holes in a guy’s skull right there in the field!!! Izzie is talented!!! She is kind and compassionate and has the best bedside manner of any of the interns and I hate hate that it got turned into “she’s boy crazy for George now”. Which??? It’s so awful. That, for me, is definitely the beginning of the turn. Izzie and George is just a horrendous romantic pairing with no sexual chemistry. They had like the single best friendship on the show but noooo I guess guys and girls can’t be platonic friends at Seattle Grace. (Also George cheating on his wife??? George?? None of this is in character)

Anyway I have a lot of feelings about this clearly lol and it got away from me. But the point is that Izzie Stevens deserved better and Katherine Heigl was right!!!

#izzie stevens #greys anatomy #s watches greys #terrainofheartfelt #strideofprideanswers

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trashmenofmarvel · 3 years

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Branded - Chapter 56

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky don't recuperate for long.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

Wariness thrummed in your bones as you awoke, and when you opened your eyes, Bucky was already sitting upright and alert, brows dipped in concentration.

It wasn’t his movement that had jostled you awake, but his emotions flowing across the bond, as easily felt as your own. It should have been weird—what kind of person wanted to share their deepest emotions with someone else?—but you and Bucky had never been exactly normal.

“What is it?”

You sat upright, still not fully awake, pulling the covers over your bare chest. Now that you were awake, you also sensed something amiss.

“I don’t know.” Bucky threw back the covers and hastily pulled on his jeans, not wasting time to wrestle with a shirt as his wings twitched behind him. “There’s a lot of activity going on out there.”

Also scrambling for your clothes, you realized all you had were the ceremonial robes, which were currently tattered to ribbons on the floor.

Wong is going to kill me.

But that was an issue for later-you. Needing to find another set of clothes but not keen on leaving the room naked, you opened the nearest set of drawers and pulled out the robes inside until you found a pair that fit. Muted gold and tan, you slipped it on and realized too late it only came up to mid-thigh, clearly mean to be worn with trousers.

Bucky paused next to the door, appraising your new outfit, and you gave him a don’t say a word glare.

His lips twitched, but at least he kept his thoughts to himself, and you followed him out the door.

Or, you tried and bumped into him, holding onto his wings to not stumble back; Bucky had been forced to stop at the sheer amount of chaos in the hallway. Sorcerers running back and forth, many of them casting spells into the air or at the walls, none of them paying Bucky or you any attention.

You approached the nearest one, recognizing him as one of Wong’s students, and had to grab his arm when he nearly tripped into you in his haste to cast spells.

“What’s happened?” you demanded, letting go of his wrist when you had his attention.

The sorcerer glanced between you and Bucky, and as it so often did, lingered for a moment on your horns. He cleared his throat.

“What?” Bucky asked, pressing against your shoulder. “What is it? Speak up.”

“The… the prisoner has escaped.”

Bucky went pale, his eyes wide, and for a moment you sensed the raw, jagged fear across your bond, prickling up the back of your own neck. He hadn’t forgotten what it was like to be enslaved by Zemo, the memories still as fresh as new wounds.

You pushed back against his strong emotions, realizing this was something you’d have to work on, separating your emotions so they wouldn’t overwhelm. Your pulse was elevated, goosebumps broke out across your skin, but you muted Bucky’s fear as best you could so you could get a handle on the situation.

“Where’s Strange?”

“His office. Making plans to retrieve the prisoner.”

And probably figure out how Zemo managed to get free, you thought. You imagined not many people were able to escape from deep in the wizard’s headquarters.

“Great. Thanks.”

You turned away from the sorcerer to leave him to what he was doing, which was either repairing broken wards or bolstering existing ones, and faced Bucky. With a gentle touch on his arm, you leaned in so as not to be overheard but the hassled wizards.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky blinked and blew out a short breath. He ran his normal hand through his hair, visibly collecting himself before he answered.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine. Fuck.” He shook his head. “How did that bastard get out?”

“I think we need to have a talk with Strange.”

“Yeah,” he growled, fixing his eyes down the hallway toward the far end where the staircase was located. “We do.”

The journey to Strange’s office was interspersed with hurried sorcerers, hands weaving complicated glyphs into the air, too occupied to even notice your passage through the halls.

You nearly walked into a wizard as he dashed from the office, giving a rushed apology as he slipped between you and Bucky. You exchanged a glance and continued inside.

As opposed to the pandemonium outside, it was controlled chaos within. Sorcerers walked the perimeter of the office casting spells, some of them consulted over what looked suspiciously like electronic tablets, and there were Strange and Wong in the middle of the room. In between them was a glowing orange depiction of the Sanctum, with an area below it depicted in blue. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out it was a magical layout of the building and where it had been breached.

“Finally,” Strange said without taking his eyes off the glittering miniature building. “Sergeant, I need you to suit up—after you’ve been cleared by the healers, of course.”

“You want me to hunt Zemo.” Bucky’s tone was flat, incurious, as if he already knew the answer. A glimmer of fear shone across the bond, but when he glanced at you, the trepidation molded into simmering anger. “Yeah, I’ll hunt the bastard for you.”

“I’m coming too.”

Now Strange did take his gaze off the map, meeting your eye through the magical projection. Even Wong stared, expression unreadable as it often was. You met their gazes unblinking, even as you tried not to fidget from the draft against your bare legs.

“The bond worked,” you insisted.

Strange sighed.

“Yes, I deduced as much when neither of you left the room for hours on end.”

Heat burned your cheeks and your tail puffed like an angry snake, which you then had to hold down with one hand so it didn’t lift the back of your robes.

So much for not blinking.

There was a hand on your shoulder, soothing and comforting. Bucky met your questioning look with a soft smile, and the same comfort given by his presence was doubled as it also came across the bond.

“The bond worked,” you repeated to Strange, bolstered by Bucky’s silent support. “Which means Bucky and I work better in tandem. I’m not a liability anymore; you said it yourself I’m a full-fledged sorcerer. I want to help. I will help.”

Strange said nothing and you bristled.

“Zemo kidnaped me. He tortured me. He held me hostage so he could get to Bucky—“

“And then he killed you.”

It wasn’t Strange who spoke, but Wong, stepping forward with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you sure this is something you wish to do? Track down the man who ended your life and sent you to the demon realm? Think carefully.”

You closed your mouth and swallowed, taking in Wong’s words and giving them the proper attention they deserved.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat. “Yes. I won’t let him do to someone else what he did to me. And to Bucky.”

Pride, concern, and even some exasperated fondness trickled across your link. You nearly smiled but kept your lips in a thin line, not wanting Wong to think you weren’t serious about this, because you absolutely were.

Strange stroked his goatee and glanced sideways at Wong.

“She was your student first. What do you think?”

If Wong was surprised to be asked for his opinion by the Sorcerer Supreme, he didn’t show it. Instead, he scrutinized you so closely you wanted to break out in a cold sweat, and then he turned to Strange and said:

“She’s ready.”

“Then I will defer to your judgement.”

You blinked.

“Just like that?”

Strange actually had the audacity to smirk.

“Were you hoping for a debate committee?” His attention was drawn back to the magical blueprint, his smile fading, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “The truth is, we could use the help. Zemo has gone to ground. He’s a smart man, even managed to break the tracking spells we put on him. He may be one step ahead of us, but… there’s one thing he won’t factor into his calculations.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

You glanced at Bucky but he simply shrugged, confused as you were.

“Me?”

“Yes,” Wong answered this time. “Zemo believes you are still dead. He doesn’t know you’ve returned, and he certainly doesn’t know you now possess magical capabilities. What has he been relying on to give him his edge so far?”

It was almost like you were back in one of Wong’s lessons, so you paid attention and followed his train of thought.

“Demon magic?”

“Mmhmm.” Wong gave the barest of smiles. “And what is your mystical specialization?”

“Demon magic,” you answered with your own smile.

“He will most likely rely on old HYDRA facilities to stay in hiding, which is where you come in, Sergeant.” Strange nodded to Bucky. “You both are our best means of tracking and recapturing Helmut Zemo.”

The plan sounded all well and good, but something was nagging you. Something important you were missing.

“How did Zemo escape?”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled as he pulled his hand off your shoulder and turned to the two sorcerers, arms folded over his chest.

“Yeah. How did Zemo escape?”

“We’re still investigating the precise way he did it, but…” Strange tapped the magical image of the building and it expanded, focusing on the sub level where it showed a cell lined in blue, fragments of it missing. “From what I can tell, during your ritual with Barnes someone infiltrated the Sanctum with the goal of weakening the demon wards around Zemo’s cell. They succeeded, causing only minor damage to the wards, but unfortunately it was enough for Zemo to recall his servant to teleport him and his accomplice out of the building.”

“You mean his slave.” Anger simmered in your chest, but dread twisted in the pit of your stomach. “The Alp is enslaved again.”

“Yes,” Strange said, reluctantly. “And we don’t know if Zemo has other demons under his power, ones that can do more than simple teleportation, or if his allies are human, such as the one who set him free. Most likely, he has backup plans of his backup plans, so we must move swiftly, especially before he finds more of HYDRA’s ill-advised toys lying around. One demon gate was bad enough. I don’t wish to find out what he would do with more Infinity Stone-powered artifacts.”

“So.” Bucky stepped forward, arms across his chest. “Where do we start?

As Strange began to discuss strategy and what he believed was the best approach, your attention drifted to something else.

Strange’s collar. More specifically, the collar of his red cape. The Cloak of Levitation. It slightly fluttered in a non-existent breeze, just as present and alive as any person.

The relic that had chosen Strange.

Recalling the Ancient One’s words, you let your eyes wander around the room, searching for the relic that was supposedly yours. The instruments that lined the shelves and display cases had never responded to you before, even after reawakening your powers, and they didn’t call to you now. A relic was supposed to make itself known to you when you were ready, but still, nothing leapt out at you as particularly important.

And then you finally remembered, oh shit. You hadn’t actually told them about your conversation with the Ancient One yet. Not that you’d had time, with waking up and finding Bucky the way he was, and that had certainly taken up all of your—

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

You jerked your head around and there was Strange, giving you a flat and put-upon stare. Bucky turned to you with a raised brow, but Wong was watching you without blinking.

“Sorry. I just… Is this the Ancient One’s office? This is her office, right?”

Much like the sorcerer you had just mentioned at your last encounter, Strange simply gaped at you.

“Come again?” he said with the impatient tone of one not used to having to ask for clarification.

“Is this her office? I’m supposed to find something here.” When no one said a word, you sheepishly added, “I, uh, spoke to her. After I must have passed out during the ritual—“

“Excuse me?”

“How is that possible?”

“You what?”

That last was from Bucky, and it was to him you answered first. Guilt surfaced at your unintentional omission of truth.

“I saw her, and talked to her, but it-it’s not important how right now.”

At Bucky’s furrowed brow and tight jaw you moved closer, trying to soothe him across your bond. The tension in his body loosened marginally, and his distress became a more mild worry.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything later when we have time,” you said quietly. “What’s important is that she wanted me to go to her office to find my relic. And if we’re going to hunt Zemo, I would rather have it before we leave.”

Strange exchanged a look with Wong, one you didn’t understand but seemed laden with meaning. You frowned.

“What?”

“She said: her office?” Wong asked. “Are you positive those were her exact words?”

“Yes. Why?”

Bucky didn’t seem to have any clue as to why that was important either, but Strange and Wong continued to have a silent discussion before Wong finally spoke.

“I’ll take her.”

“Then…” Strange took a deep breath and gave you a last look. “I wish you luck.”

Before you could ask what the hell that meant, Wong began ushering you and Bucky out of the office, but then Strange spoke up again.

“Oh, one last thing. You two won’t be going after Zemo alone.”

You couldn’t quite read Strange’s expression, something like frustration and amusement. Usually he only made that face in regards to you, so you knew it couldn’t be good.

“What’s that mean?” Bucky asked, probably coming to a similar conclusion.

“The Avengers, as you know, have their hands tied with the Sokovian Accords, and can’t help us with this matter. Not in an official capacity. The last thing we need is to have the United Nations aware of our presence.”

Bucky frowned further.

“Your point?”

“My point, Sergeant, is that neither Steve Rogers nor Tony Stark can assist in retrieving Zemo. To do so would require official channels to know how he escaped, and why imprisonment was necessary from the start.

“Not to mention where he was being held,” Strange added with a sigh. “Our order relies on secrecy and independence in order to function. The UN knowing about the Sanctums would make protecting this planet that much harder.”

Strange was right, but you were less concerned about the sorcerers being exposed—they could handle themselves. More worrying would be the world’s governments becoming aware of Bucky and his demonic side. Especially with the Sokovian Accords in play and the Avengers unable to intervene, keeping Bucky under the radar was important now more than ever.

“So… who’s going to be helping us?” you asked, curious despite yourself.

“A liaison, of sorts. I’ll give you more details when you return, and I expect you to play nice.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Strange,” Bucky growled.

“I was talking to her.”

Strange glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t even get the chance to defend the slander before he was waving you away and Wong was leading you out the door.

“His name is Sam Wilson,” Strange called after you. “And he is an Avenger, so try not to embarrass us.”

Your annoyance at the wizard evaporated.

“You know who he is?” Bucky asked, casting you a side glance. He must have sensed your sudden excitement across the bond.

“Of course, he’s the Falcon! He helped Steve Rogers dismantle HYDRA when they tried to take over S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s how he became an Avenger.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky’s voice dropped a notch. “And you’ve met Captain America himself, but I don’t remember you fangirling over Steve.”

You stumbled over your own feet. Wong pointedly ignored you both, for which you were grateful.

“I-well, that’s different! Steve is… Steve.”

You couldn’t exactly say Steve is your ex, but there it was. Even if you’d met Steve at a time where you hadn’t been spiraling with devastation at Bucky going into the cryo-chamber, the whole thing would have been just as awkward. You liked Steve well enough, especially after you’d had time to get to know him, but he was still Steve Rogers to you. Someone who was important to Bucky in a way that he was different to the rest of the world.

But Sam Wilson… You were going to be working with an Avenger. A bonafide superhero. And you were going to be using your magic the way it should be wielded, not cloistered away in a sanctum.

Your tail twitched, and you grabbed it before it could lift up your short tunic the rest of the way again.

Bucky was immediately distracted, his eyes growing darker as he followed the sudden movement of your tail down to your bare legs.

You cleared your throat.

“Can I get changed before we go to… wherever it is we’re going?”

Wong looked over his shoulder, glanced at your state of undress, and rolled his eyes.

“Very well.”

The three of you made a detour back to your room, or you assumed it was a detour, because you still didn’t know your destination. You paused in the doorway.

“Where are we going?”

“Kamar-Taj,” Wong answered, eyes straight ahead. Down the hallway where you would eventually enter the meeting room that only the Masters used. You’d never been there, or through the magical doors beyond that led to the other Sanctums.

A chill went down your spine, one that was shared as Bucky met your eye, and you didn’t object as he followed you into your room. Nor did you speak when he shut the door, turn to you, and wrapped his arms around your tense shoulders.

He didn’t know the source of your distress, couldn’t know what the Ancient One had told you, but he could feel the results of it anyway.

Wong would have to wait a few minutes more as you allowed yourself to take comfort in Bucky’s steadfast presence. It was the only way you could gather your strength for whatever came next.

Next Chapter

#branded #demon!bucky x reader #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 3 years

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Paying It Forward

Good Evening all,

Ok, I know I haven’t posted the next chapter of Edinburgh to Boston. I am sorry about that. But it has been a pretty bad, horrible, no good end of the year for me. Hubby got sick again and I had to rush him to hospital. He needed heavy duty antibiotics. He is now ok, but still very debilitated after his illness. Me? I have been taking care of him, going to work, and my characters have decided not to play nice with me. Hubs said I painted myself into a corner. Not exactly, I just haven’t figured out how to get them to do what I want them to do. And I am tired. Which is partially how this fic came about.

I decided that I would start to read MOBY for two reasons. One, it has been some time since I read it and I am hoping that Bees will be out this year and I wanted to refresh my memory of what happened previously. Two, I was hoping it would help my writer’s block. It did but in an unexpected way. After getting to a certain point in the story, I went to sleep and dreamt the story you are about to read. It played in my head over and over, like it had to some out. So I wrote it and here it is.

Now that I said MOBY: SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! If you haven’t read MOBY and don’t want to find out what’s going to happen, PLEASE DON’T READ THIS. The story actually draws on ABOSAA, ECHO, MOBY, and a tiny bit from the TV program.

As always I am indebted to @scubalass for her most excellent work as my beta. Also she contributed to the story which made it so much better. I’ll tell you at the end. I am also grateful to @gotham-ruaidh who told me it was different and good. And that I should go with it. The other important thing you need to know is it is written like one of Claire’s voice-over monologues. I know that people hate the monologues, but that’s how it was and I kept to it.

So I give you Paying It Forward. I hope you like it.

The detritus of the woodland floor muffled the sounds of the Army advancing. Moldy leaves crackled and fragrant pine needles from fir trees helped to disguise their steps. But, it is not in the make-up of the military to travel quietly especially in the 18th century. Horses neighed and harness jingled. Goats bleated. Shot pouches and cartridge-boxes buckled to belts rattled and clinked Wagons creaked under their heavy loads. Carriages groaned pulling the weighty cannon along. And, of course, there was Rollo, half-wolf, half-dog. The mongrel barked madly harassing man and beast alike as he weaved among them. The voice of my nephew, Ian Murray, called to the animal, “ Thig an seo cù .” Yipping with glee at the sound of his master’s voice, he raced to Ian’s side. The sounds of infantry on the move certainly broke the peace of the coppice.

Our journey became hampered by the dense forest we traveled through. It was thick with trees, bushes, and bramble impeding the progress of the Continental Army as they marched toward Monmouth. Once there we were to muster with General George Washington and the other battalions.

Commanding this regiment is the newly ordained General James Fraser, my husband to whom I serve as company surgeon. I do admit it was quite a shock to first see him dressed in the full military regalia of a Continental Officer. I began to tremble becoming a quivering mess when I first took him in wearing an officer’s dark blue and buff.

“Why does it always have to be you? Haven’t you, haven’t we given enough? Isn't it time for you to put down your sword and pistol?” I shuddered as I recalled the failed attempt by Charles Stewart to regain the Scottish crown which resulted in our twenty-year separation. The skirmish at Alamance that resulted in Murtagh’s death and the hanging of our son-in-law Roger which almost cost his life. The battle of Saratoga where I amputated one of Jamie’s fingers. Now, we were being pulled into another conflict. Was it too much to want to return to our simple life on the Ridge I wondered? But Jamie, my Jamie, is a highlander born and bred. A decent man, with strong principles and morals. He is a man of honor and that is not a small thing to be. I watched him as he sat at the head of the column, sitting straight and tall in his saddle like the true highland warrior he is. The breadth of his powerful back and shoulders would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was born to lead, to command, to this moment in history. And command he would, braving the responsibility of leading his battalion to fight against the oppression of the British king.

Jamie knew the meaning of suffering, cruelty, and loss at the hands of the English. The loss of his home, his country, his own personal freedom came at their hands. And the loss of his family. He had quite the history with the Redcoats. Arrested for obstruction, escaping, then being recaptured. He ran afoul of a sadistic dragoon captain who had him flogged most cruelly one hundred lashes upon one hundred lashes. He escaped again and lived as an outlaw on the run instead of facing the gallows for a murder he did not commit.

Then there was Culloden. Where he, or should I say we lost everything. I was pregnant with our second child; our first child, a daughter, was stillborn. On the eve of battle, Jamie forced me to return to my own time for the safety of myself and our child. Jamie believed it would be his destiny to die in battle. Instead, he lived. Again he went into hiding for seven years living in a cave in Lallybroch. The Redcoats continued to harass his family, stealing what they wanted from the estate. They arrested Ian, Jamie’s brother-in-law as the Redcoats believed he knew of Jamie’s whereabouts. And there was the Highland Clearances which destroyed homes, Scottish culture, language, and their way of life.

Jamie was not driven to this war because of a need for revenge because of his losses, but rather he felt he was honor-bound as a father to take up his sword to protect those he loved. Even if those he loved lived centuries after him.

“Ye said that this was meant tae be Brianna’s home, her country, aye? Then I must do what I can for our daughter and her bairns. ‘Tis my duty as sire and grandsire to see that they will live free, Sassenach.”

And he would do what he must for Brianna, Jem, wee Mandy, and Roger. No matter the cost to himself.

My mind completely focused on Jamie and our immediate future prevented me from noticing a tall man thin as a rail standing in the middle of the road blocking our progress. Immediately, Jamie’s second in command rode up next to his commander.

The man did not budge an inch. He was rather rough looking. Wearing a knitted cap on his head, his long greasy hair protruded out. A grizzled beard covered his face. His clothes were quite worn having been patched many times. He wore no shoes. In all, he looked quite primitive.

Suddenly, he moved with a decided determination; a man on a mission. The man strode up to Jamie assuming correctly that he was the man in charge.

A strong downward breeze announced his presence. Most likely the man had not bathed in months if not years. The odor was enough to make your eyes water.

The old man came forward eyeing Jamie like an entomologist studying a new species of bug. Relaxing he gave a tug on his cap and briefly bobbed his head.

“Ye in charge here?” the old coot demanded.

‘Aye, I am. General James Fraser at yer service sir. Might I enquire to whom I am speaking?”

“Mortimer Hepplewhite the owner of this here land yer trespassing on. And I want tae know when ye will be gone.”

“Mr. Hepplewhite, we shall be off yer land as soon as may be. We need to travel off the main road for now as there have been sightings of English troops nearby.”

“Well, all yer clanging and stomping about is disturbing the peace of me home.”

Jamie turned around to look at the property. It had not been cleared for planting nor were there any animals grazing. All that stood in the distance was a ramshackle cabin with a lopsided chimney discharging an inordinate amount of smoke.

“I dinna see any crops, or animals grazing, or people that we might be disturbing, sir.”

“Not disturbing he says! Why I’ll have ye know me Arabella is in a right fit. She doesn’t care much for strangers.”

The recluse, a long-limb man, raised a heretofore unnoticed ball of fur and thrust it under Jamie’s nose. He focused on it intently causing his eyes to almost cross. It hissed, spit, and yowled with great ferocity.

It seemed that Arabella was a cantankerous cat. And was as ill-kempt as its master with matted fur and bald in spots. One fang hung outside its mouth and on closer inspection seemed to be missing an eye.

Mortimer drew the beast close to his chest whispering sweet words of comfort while tenderly stroking its scraggly fur. The cat settled in his arms and even began to purr.

Jamie called to his Lieutenant and leaned over to whisper in his ear. He nodded and rode off to follow his orders.

I sat on my horse watching this spectacle play out. Without warning, I felt the sudden loss of my cat and worried about his well-being. Adso was part house cat and part feral cat. However, he was my cat. He loved to jump onto my lap to snuggle and drift off to sleep. Or lie on the windowsill basking in a sunbeam tail swishing like a metronome. He did wreak havoc in my surgery at times but he was mine, a gift from Jamie. Adso was just as much a part of the family as any of us. So why couldn’t Arabella be this lonely man’s family? Family is whoever you say they are.

The Lieutenant promptly returned carrying a bundle which he handed to Jamie.

Jamie slid down from his horse and approached the gentleman.

“On behalf of the Continental Army, I would like tae offer ye recompense for disturbing yer peace. Please accept this small token from myself and General Washington. And for the lovely Miss Arabella, I make a gift of this fish just caught this morning.”

Jamie removed his hat and bowed to the man.

Mortimer truly wasn’t sure of what to make of this but graciously accepted the parcel. He removed his cap revealing a head of matted hair and returned the bow. He replaced his cap, straightened his shoulders, held his head high as he strolled back to his home, a rich man. A man made richer not for what he received but for the respect given him.

Later that night as I lay in Jamie’s embrace I asked him what prompted his actions on the road.

“Do ye ken the conversation we had in the gardens in Philadelphia? The one about what happened between ye and his lordship?”

Did I remember, he wanted to know? How could I forget?

“Of course I remember, you said that you would mention it from time to time. Am I to take it that this will be one of those times?”

“Aye, ‘tis. But not what yer thinking about,” he said with a sidelong look. “I’m speaking of how John’s friendship healed us during times of great need. Mine at Ardsmuir, Hellwater, and Jamaica. Yer’s when ye thought I died.” The topic of my hasty marriage to John (for strictly political reasons) was still a sore point to him. He understood it, but didn’t and wouldn’t like it.

Jamie let out a sigh trying to collect himself before continuing, “Mortimer was naught but a poor lonely old man, Sassenach. And I did not do much for him. I gave him a wee bit of flour, lard, dried meat, apples, and some parritch.” Jamie stopped to think for a moment, “Oh, a razor, a lump of soap, and a fish for his mangy cat.”

“Are you saying that you did this because of the kindnesses John showed us?”

“Exactly so, mo ghràdh . I felt..it just felt like the right thing tae do.”

I raised my face to look at him, “There’s a term for that and it's called paying it forward .”

He looked quizzically at me trying to understand what I meant.

“What that means is when someone does something kind or helpful for you, you return that kindness to a different person instead of repaying the person who originally helped you. Did you know that the man who started this idea is alive now?”

“Och, aye? Who is he Sassenach?”

“Benjamin Franklin. I think you would like him. He was a founding Father, freemason, inventor, scientist, and a printer.”

His eyebrows lifted at the mention of Franklin being a printer and a freemason. “I should like to meet this man one day. “

Jamie grew quiet as he attempted to digest this information. “Paying it forward,” he rolled the words around in his mouth tasting them. “Aye, that’s it. Just so, I was paying it forward.”

“Jamie, I think what you did was far greater than repaying a kindness. I think you gave him something more than he ever expected. You gave him respect and a way to restore his dignity.”

He leaned over and kissed me, “Aye, Sassenach, respect is something every man or woman deserves.” Jamie stopped to think for a moment, “No man wants to go about stinking if he can help it.” I knew he was thinking of his time hiding in the cave and as a prisoner at Ardsmuir. “There were days I thought I would never get the stink off my body, dirt from under my nails, or be rid of the lice. ‘Twas a small thing but it may make a big difference to him. Maybe it will help to restore his self-regard.”

The following day we resumed our journey. Once again a man stood in the road again blocking our path. There was something vaguely familiar about him. It was Mortimer, now clean-shaven, clothes washed having removed several layers of filth, and much less fragrant. He carried a pack strapped to his back probably containing all his worldly possessions. Strangely he carried a beautiful and well-maintained musket in his hand.

He approached Jamie, removed his cap, and bowed deeply.

“Yer Excellency, I have decided tae travel with ye fer a while. If ye dinna mind.”

“Yer presence is welcome, Mr. Hepplewhite. Find yerself a place among the men. This evening please come by tae see my wife. She is the physician of our troop. She will see tae yer physicking needs should ye have any.”

“I thank ye, sir.” Mortimer replaced his cap, lowered his head, and took a position among the rank-and-file.

Jamie smiled, a pleased look playing across his face. His arm raised and he waved us forward.

As the men resumed their march, a wee black puff ball of fur stuck its head out of Mortimer’s bag evidently Arabella had a wash-up too.

********************

Thig an seo cù - Come here dog.

If anyone wants to know, Jamie’s white stallion’s name was Samson. And he sneezed violently when he sniffed Mortimer.

A little bit of history here. Benjamin Franklin lent Benjamin Webb a sum of money to start a business. He told Webb that when his business was successful and he had paid all his debts, he should likewise help someone else like Franklin helped him. In return, that gentleman would have to assist someone else like Webb helped him. Franklin hoped this would continue until some knave would stop its progress. The idea of paying it forward was born.

We can all thank @scubalass for telling me about Ben Franklin and Paying It Forward. She is truly an amazing person and a fount of information and wisdom. I think that this added so much to the story and found it quite interesting.

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it.

It is also on AO3 where I am LadyJane518: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907349

#paying it forward #moby #jamie and claire #Mortimer Hepplewhite #revolutionary war #arabella the cat #ol fanfic #My writing #Here Goes Nothing #good to flex the writing muscles

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

God is a Woman (Finale)

Wow, this is it y’all. Thank you for staying with me on this journey. Playlist was the first full-length story I started and I can’t believe I was able to pump out 15 chapters. I really just got back to writing in December after years of doubting myself...so this really means a lot to me. Y’all really mean a lot to me. Enjoy 😘

CW: smut

Word Count: 8202 As soon as the sun peeked out over the horizon, Ashanti’s eyes blinked open. She woke up smiling, and it only intensified when she felt her husband’s arms tighten around her as she reached for her dream journal on the nightstand. She flipped through her entries before she landed on a blank page. Using the sliver of sunlight sneaking into the room to see, she put her pen to the paper and thought back on her dream, making sure to record every detail she could.

In her dream, she was at the lake. Their lake.

It was a beautiful day outside, and she heard children’s laughter behind her. She turned around and saw a salt and pepper T’Challa swinging a young boy around with a man who looked just like T’Challa. Another laugh was heard and she turned to see a grown Siyanda and another man that looked like T’Challa surrounded by three rowdy children. T’Challa, his first mini-me, and the young boy all lit up at the sight of them and the kid ran to greet the new additions to their party.

The man with Siyanda hugged the boy tight before he ran off with the other kids. Ashanti couldn't take her eyes off her daughter. She looked to be about thirty, and she wore her hair cropped short. She got her strong stature and graceful movements from her father, and the heart shaped herb no doubt. One of the kids ran back over to ask her something Ashanti was too distracted to hear, but she clearly heard the kid say “Ok mama!” and a lump formed in her throat. She was pulled out of it by the feeling of T’Challa’s arms going around her waist.

“Are you ok, Kitten? You seem a little out of it today.”

Everything about him felt the same. The timbre of his voice against her ear still set her ablaze, and the smell of his cocoa butter covered skin still made her melt. She turned in his arms to get a better look at him and the gray hairs dispersed throughout his beard and short curls made her smile. His eyes were just as bright as ever, with a more pronounced crinkle in the corners. He stood strong and tall, but his softness for her shone through every time he looked at her.

“I’m ok,” she smiled and pulled him down into a kiss.

“Ewwww, they’re being gross again. Make it stop,” one of the men teased from afar, making them laugh and pull apart. T’Challa grabbed her hand and led her over to the group. Ashanti looked at the twins and marvelled at how they managed to both steal T’Challa’s face. They seemed to be in their early twenties so Ashanti did some quick math in her head and found she still had some time before she’d get to meet them in real life. Just as they sat down to enjoy their family picnic, the children joined them and a little girl crawled into Ashanti’s lap. She smiled up at her with her two front teeth missing and Ashanti kissed her forehead. Right when she laid her head on T’Challa’s shoulder, the sun woke her up.

She scribbled down her dream as quickly as she could before it left her memory, and just as she closed her journal she heard T’Challa’s raspy morning voice.

“Was it a good one?”

“One of the best,” she said through a smile and turned over to face him, planting a good morning kiss on his lips.

“Tell me about it.”

“Mmmm, this one I think I’ll keep to myself. You’ll find out eventually.”

“Oh, another premonition?”

“I hope so.”

In the two years that had passed since Ashanti came into her powers, she had also developed the ability to receive premonitions through her dreams like several of the women in her family.

She tried to turn back around to get out of bed, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“Uh-uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“You know where, I need to get my run in,” she giggled as his arms tightened around her waist.

“I need help with something before you go,” he whispered into her ear and grinded his morning wood between her naked cheeks and slid into her pussy, pulling her leg back to open her up. “And you need to stretch.”

All Ashanti could do was moan as he filled her from behind, her hips grinding back into him.

“I love how you’re always ready for me, Kitten. Such a good slut for your Kumkani.”

“Y-Yes, thank you Kumkani.”

He closed her legs and flipped her on her stomach, straddling her as he grabbed her ass and plowed into her. Ashanti damn near ripped the sheets from the bed as she held on for dear life. Normally their morning sessions were languid and sensual, but T’Challa woke up this morning ready to break her back in. One of his hands ripped off her scarf and grabbed her twists, craning her head to the side so she could look at him. He planted a wet kiss on her lips as his body weight came down on her thrust after thrust and a tear rolled from her eye.

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” T’Challa‘s hips wound inside her and she cried out, releasing her juices all over him as she came from his head dragging across her g-spot. “Mhm, just like that, Kitten. Soak my fucking dick.”

He lifted her hips without slowing his strokes and pushed her upper body down to the bed. He squatted over her and the angle of his thrusts drove her wild. She couldn’t stop cumming and he bit his lip as he tried to hold onto his own release, but the way her walls were squeezing him left him no choice.

“I’m about to cum in my pussy, Kitten. I want you to fucking drain me. You better not push it out, either. You hear me?” His strokes got impossibly deeper and her pussy responded by clenching around him yet again.

“Fuck!” T’Challa couldn’t help himself any longer and he released himself deep inside her. Ashanti grinded her hips and clenched around him some more, making sure she got every last drop as he continued to spill into her. She could feel the small bursts of liquid as they splashed her cervix and painted her walls, and she moaned as she reached under and played with her clit. She came for him one more time and he sat back on his heels and watched some of his cum slowly leak out of her drop by drop.

“Mmm, how am I supposed to go run now?” she whined as she slid back down onto the bed and rolled over.

“I’ll have the bathtub ready for you,” he kissed her and his hand travelled down her body to her clit.

“Challaaa,” she whined some more and moved her hips as his fingers rubbed her in slow circles.

“You either go now or I fuck you into this bed some more, and I’m sure the general wouldn’t accept that as a valid excuse. I’d hate to have to watch her make you run laps.”

“Ugh, fine. Stop touching me,” she fussed as she got up and he chuckled at her frustration.

“You might want to wear your black leggings.”

“Why?”

“I was serious, you’re not pushing it out.”

“You want me to run around with your jizz seeping down my leg?”

He laughed at her choice of words as he sauntered into the bathroom to start his day, without answering her question. Ashanti rolled her eyes and threw on some sneakers, her hot ass black leggings, and a sports bra before heading out to the gardens, peeking in on Yaya still asleep in her bed before she left. When the sunlight hit her face she smiled and started limbering up her muscles before she took off around the palace grounds. About forty five minutes later she returned to the palace and walked into the living area to see T’Challa and Yaya in the kitchen making breakfast as usual.

“Good morning, mama!” she said as she stirred some batter.

“Good morning, baby girl. Are you ready for your big day?” She came over and kissed Siyanda on the cheek before turning to her husband and doing the same.

Siyanda flashed a snaggle-toothed smile and nodded her head vigorously. Today would be her first day of school, and the entire Udaku household was buzzing with excitement. Before she could start getting sentimental Ashanti left the kitchen to go wash off her run. She hopped in the shower first, then settled into the bath T’Challa had run her for her aching muscles. She didn’t stay long, just long enough to relax. When she joined the family downstairs again, she walked in to see a hologram of Kwame and his husband Omar projecting from T’Challa’s beads. Ramonda had taken over in the kitchen while Yaya sat in T’Challa’s lap as her two uncles wished her a happy first day of school.

“So you two almost forget my birthday, but call for her first day of school? Fairweather friends, I tell you.” Ashanti joked as she entered their line of sight and leaned down to place her head on T’Challa’s shoulder.

“You know I still love you, Yaya’s just my favorite,” Kwame quipped back and she feigned offense. “Anyways, loving the twist-out. And Miss Yaya, those braids!”

“Enkosi, baba did them,” she said proudly, looking back at T’Challa.

Ashanti’s mind flashed to the night before. The three of them sat in the living room watching The Princess and the Frog, Siyanda’s favorite movie. Ashanti was trying her hardest not to cry for the millionth time when Ray died, when she looked over at her family and her tears dried up at the sight. Siyanda was seated on a pillow on the floor, eyes glued to the screen while her baba braided her hair with the concentration of a brain surgeon. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about how he wanted the last couple braids to wind about her head, and she could see the exact moment it came to him and she chuckled. He looked up at her and winked before going back to the very important task at hand. By the time he was finished putting the beads on the ends of her hair, the movie had ended and she was almost falling asleep. They put her to bed and watched her sleep for a little bit before leaving the room.

Their convo didn’t last long, and pretty soon the king and princess were back on breakfast duty. He let her pour out the eggs into the skillet and he started his famous spiced plantain pancakes on the griddle. The turkey sausage was already done and the cheese grits had just come off the stove, and Ramonda had already found her way to the fruit Ashanti had chopped up the night before. Shuri rounded the corner with her usual morning grumpiness, but changed her tune when she saw Yaya and remembered what day it was.

“Good morning, family,” she yawned before shuffling over to her niece and covering her in kisses. “Someone has a big day today...I wonder who it is? Ashanti?”

“Nope not me.”

“Mama?”

Ramonda shrugged, “I don’t know who it could possibly be.”

“Ubhuti?”

“No special plans over here.”

“Hm, must be Daka then.”

“It’s me,” Siyanda giggled.

“You? What are you doing today?”

“I’m going to school!”

“Whaaaat? I had no idea!”

“No idea about what,” N’Jadaka asked as he entered the room. He had made sure he was in town for his Punkin’s big day.

“Did you know Yaya is starting school?”

“Nah, she’s not old enough for that.”

“I am, too!”

“How old are you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Five!”

“Since when?”

Ashanti and Yaya had switched places and she was helping T’Challa plate the food when she noticed him stop and sigh looking out at Siyanda arguing back and forth with her aunt and big cousin.

“She’s growing up so fast. It feels like she’ll be queen by next week,” T’Challa said barely loud enough for Ashanti to hear. She thought to her dream and smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his jaw.

Just then, Chidi and Bisa entered the kitchen. They had gotten back from another trip abroad the night before just to make it to see Yaya start her first day of school.

“Sorry we’re late, jet lag is rough on us old folks,” Bisa said as she went around greeting everybody with a hug.

“Old? Speak for yourself, woman. Don’t forget you have two years on me,” Chidi quipped as he made his rounds, too.

Bisa cut her eyes at her husband and everyone sat down at the table to eat.

“So, mama, baba, how was Indonesia?”

“It was lovely, you two should add it to your list,” Bisa responded before stuffing her mouth full of T’Challa’s delicious food.

“We just might do that.”

“Where are your glasses, intyatyambo?” Chidi asked Yaya while Ashanti and T’Challa both beamed at their little girl. She had finally outgrown them and could look at people without the blinding pain from the brightness of their auras.

“The colors don't hurt my head anymore, so I don’t need them,” she said proudly.

“Wow, we were only gone a month,” Bisa was surprised at the quick change.

The family ate together and had their fill until about thirty minutes later T’Challa looked at the time on his beads and realized they should wrap things up.

“We need to get moving if you’re going to be on time for your first day,” T’Challa said to Yaya and she hopped up from the table and ran to get her things. The king and queen stood next, both taking a second to compose themselves.

“It gets easier,” Chidi offered as he grabbed his daughter’s hand. “I was a wreck on your first day.”

“Oh my Bast, I remember I had so much trouble getting him to let you go.”

Ashanti looked to T’Challa knowingly and he looked away. She could already tell he would be a problem.

“On Shuri’s first day of school T’Chaka wanted to stay and monitor the teacher.”

Ashanti shook her head at her husband, already seeing the wheels turning in his head.

“It’s not the worst idea…” he said under his breath.

Just then Yaya reentered the room with a pep in her step. “Ready!”

Her family waved goodbye, not a dry eye in sight, as T’Challa and Ashanti walked with Siyanda out of the palace and through the streets of Birnin Zana, their Dora close behind. Even Okoye fought to remain poised as the little princess that she loved so much walked ahead of her parents, seemingly already knowing the way. When they got to the school, she immediately tried to run off and play with the other kids, but T’Challa held her shoulder as the teacher walked over to introduce himself.

“My king, my queen, princess. It is a pleasure to have you here with us. I am Abayomi, I’ll be Siyanda’s teacher this year,” he saluted them and held out his hand for them to shake. Ashanti took it, as did T’Challa after she nudged his side for staring at it for a beat too long. Abayomi recognized the look on T’Challa’s face and decided to offer him some comfort, “If you’d like you can stick around and make sure she’s settled in ok.”

“Yes, let’s-”

Ashanti cleared her throat, interrupting him and shaking her head.

“Thank you Abayomi, but it’s probably better that we leave. The longer we stay the worse he’ll get.”

The teacher smiled and nodded in understanding before crouching down to Siyanda’s level.

“Hi Siyanda, I’ll be your teacher this year. Are you ready to have some fun and learn some cool stuff?”

She nodded vigorously and turned around to T’Challa, “Can I go now, baba?”

His heart broke and Ashanti saw it happen.

Abayomi went and stood by the door to give the family some privacy as they said their goodbyes. Ashanti crouched down and hugged Yaya goodbye before T’Challa knelt down and did the same, refusing to let her go until Ashanti gave him a look.

“It’s ok, baba, it’s just school.” She noticed the tears welling in his eyes and wiped one away that fell to his cheek.

“I know, sithandwa. You be good, ok?”

“I will, baba.”

He let her go and she ran towards the school doors and met her teacher. They both waved one more time before going inside and T’Challa’s dam broke. Ashanti helped her husband up and wiped his tears.

“How are you not crying right now?” He asked, confused by how she was able to keep it together. Ashanti smiled and thought back to her dream from the night before.

“Because last night I saw her as a queen. She was fully grown up, had kids of her own and everything...our baby isn’t a baby anymore, Challa. She’s growing up.”

“I hate it,” he grumbled as she grabbed his hand and led him back to the palace.

--------

Ashanti‘s chest heaved as she gulped down her room temperature water.

“How was that?”

“Pretty good, except for right here,” Shuri pulled up footage of Ashanti fighting in the simulation. “You let him get in too close. He could’ve done some real damage, so watch your back.”

Ashanti nodded and shook out her muscles.

“Again.”

“Ashanti, we’ve been at this all day. You should take a break. Bast, I need a break.”

The queen sighed and wiped her brow, “Come on, just one more?”

“So this is where you’ve been all day,” T’Challa said as he leaned up against the door leading to the private training room’s observation deck, surprising both of them.

“Brother, please get your wife. She’s going to exhaust herself if she keeps this up.”

“Snitch!”

Shuri leaned over the railing and stuck her tongue out at Ashanti before turning back to her brother and thrusting her holopad into his hands. “I’m going to take a nap, please don’t need me for the next two hours.”

T’Challa shook his head as she left and he reviewed Ashanti’s footage.

“You’re doing well.”

“Not well enough,” she said under her breath and rolled her eyes.

T’Challa looked up from the tablet and his brows furrowed, sensing her attitude. He strolled out of the observation deck and down the ramp to the training room, examining her body language as he went. He knew where this was going, and he didn’t like it one bit but he had to ask.

“What is it, Kitten?” He reached for her hand and she barely held onto it.

“Nothing,” she mumbled while avoiding eye contact. He pulled her in closer and lightly grabbed her chin, making her look into his eyes.

“You’re a horrible liar,” he said and she pouted. He smirked at her poked out lip and leaned in to kiss it. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just want to get better, that’s all.”

“Why are you pushing yourself so hard?” He braced himself for what he felt was coming. He really didn’t want to have that conversation. She looked away again before her eyes found their way back to his.

“I want to go on a mission.”

There it was.

“A mission? Why?” he asked nervously, and she could hear the faint waiver in his voice.

“Because I have these powers I never do anything with, T’Challa. I know how to use them now, I’ve been doing combat training for over a year now...Yaya saw us fighting monsters,” she pointed to the both of them for extra emphasis. “So...when can I start?”

T’Challa really didn’t want her in the field fighting. He knew what his missions entailed sometimes and he wanted to keep her as far away from harm as possible. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, and she wiggled herself out his arms. That wasn’t the reaction she wanted. She left him standing on the training room floor and stormed back to their quarters. The king’s shoulders slumped as he watched her march through the door. He looked up at the ceiling and spoke to Bast, “Give me strength.”

He decided it was probably best to give her space the rest of the day, and they didn’t run into each other again until dinnertime. Ashanti mostly ignored T’Challa and focused on Siyanda as she excitedly told them all about her day at school. She had been in school for a couple weeks now and was just as excited about it as she was on her first day. T’Challa tried his best to focus as she told them about her best friend Ade, but he was in his head the entire time thinking of the impending conversation he’d have to have with his wife.

Ramonda and Shuri could tell something was off, so after dinner Shuri offered to take her niece for the night so they could hash out whatever was going on between them. Ashanti was the first to leave the table, and T’Challa followed behind her shortly after, still wanting to give her space. Well, he wasn’t actually sure if he was doing it for her or for him, but it was needed nonetheless.

When he arrived at their quarters he found her stress painting on the balcony. She splattered the paint onto the canvas at record speed and he changed out of his royal threads and into a pair of sweatpants he wouldn't mind getting paint on before joining her outside. She saw him, but made no effort to acknowledge his presence.

“So you’re just going to ignore me, now?” he asked as he leaned against the railing. A couple stray red droplets found their way to his stomach and he almost smiled at the intense concentration on her face.

Ashanti dipped her paintbrush into white paint and lightly flicked it at her masterpiece, sprinkling white dots over the red splotches. She looked up at him for a second before her eyes travelled back to her masterpiece.

“Kitten…”

“What?” she said under her breath, her voice flat.

“Talk to me.”

“For what? You said all there is to say.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“Not with your mouth. Body language, T’Challa.”

“Damn. Full name, eh?”

“T’Challa Jahi Udaku. Is that better?” She rolled her eyes and reached for the black paint.

“No, it’s not,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “Ashanti, look at me.”

Her eyes flickered up to him over the canvas.

“I just don’t think you’re ready yet-”

“Okoye does. She even complimented my combat skills yesterday. You saw how I did with Shuri’s simulation, so what’s the problem?”

“There is a lot more danger out there than my sister can cook up for your training. I just want you to give it more time.”

“I’ve been training for a year! How much time do you need?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Isn’t it? Give me one good reason why you think I’m not ready to fight.”

“I just need you to be safe, that’s all.”

“Oh like I don’t worry about you every time you put on that suit? Because I do. I pray to Bast and the Ancestors every time that you’ll come back to me unharmed, but I know you have to go because it’s your job. It’s who you are. You have your powers for a reason, so what about mine?”

“Your powers are defensive-”

“That’s why I’ve been in combat training, T’Challa! I know that, but you mean to tell me you never have any use for invisibility? A fucking force field?”

T’Challa sighed. He knew she was right, but he just couldn’t let her go out into the world and face danger like that.

“Siyanda-”

“Also has powers and will have even more some day. Are you going to tell her to stop seeing auras?”

“No, of course not, that wouldn’t even be possible.”

“Then why won’t you let me use mine?,” she shuddered at her own words, “Ugh, the fact that you even have to ‘let me’ do something is disgusting.”

“You can use your powers whenever you wish, that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, I love when I get to really put them to use for hide and seek and snowball fights,” she said sarcastically. “Do you know what it feels like to not be able to be your full self? I was given these powers for a reason, and I’m doing something with them whether you like it or not.” She got up and wiped her hands on her smock before taking it off over her head and tossing it at T’Challa, covering his torso in wet paint splotches. He rolled his eyes at her maturity and went to wash the paint off. When he emerged from the bathroom he caught her gathering up her pillows in her arms.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping in one of the guest suites tonight.”

“Kitten, we-”

“Don’t go to bed angry, I know, but this is getting nowhere and I’m tired.”

“Then stay here. If anything, I’ll go.”

“Fine by me.” Ashanti threw her pillows back down and walked past him to the bathroom to get ready for bed. By the time she came out he had already gone and she plopped on the bed, suddenly regretting her decision. She knew she couldn’t back down now and crawled under the cold, empty covers to get some sleep. Except sleep never came to her. She tossed and turned until about two hours later, and when she had finally had enough she decided to get up and drink some chamomile and lavender tea. She shuffled down to the kitchen and was met with the sight of her husband making two cups of the exact tea she wanted. He looked up when he heard her approaching and slid the teacup over to her.

“I can’t sleep,” she said before blowing on the tea to cool it down before taking a sip.

“Me neither.”

There was silence for a while as the two of them stood on opposite sides of the island sipping their tea.

“How did you know?” she gestured towards the cup.

“You told me once that you sleep better when I’m there, and I know you like tea when you can’t sleep. I figured you probably couldn’t turn your brain off, so you’d be down soon.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Ashanti grew quiet again, but T’Challa eventually broke the silence with a sigh.

“I know how it feels to want to get out into the field so bad it hurts. That’s how I felt during my training...I didn’t realize you felt the same way.”

“Yeah, well, I do and it hurts that you don’t see me as good enough to fight.”

“I never said you weren’t good enough-”

“You said I wasn’t ready.”

“I did, but I thought about it some more...I don’t want you in the field because if something happens to me I want Siyanda to still have you. If we’re both out there…”

“I know, I’ve thought about that too, but Bast gave me this for a reason. I don’t want to waste it, Challa.”

“I know…”

“Then put me in the field.”

He looked at her for a moment before coming to his decision.

“You’ll need a suit.”

Ashanti’s face lit up and she almost dropped her teacup.

“You mean it?”

“Yes…”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Because I don’t like it, but...anything for you,” he closed the distance between them and kissed her forehead then her nose then her lips. “Besides, you have to start some time since we know you’ll be fighting ‘monsters’ at least once. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have to ‘let you’ do anything.”

Ashanti beamed up at him and pulled him in for another kiss. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re my wife, and my queen, and I never should have tried to stifle you. I am sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I know you only did it because you care about my safety, but trust me, I’ll be fine.” Her hand cupped his face and he leaned into it, pressing a kiss to her wrist. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

They finished their tea and made their way back to their quarters in comfortable silence. T’Challa removed his sweatpants before they crawled into bed and Ashanti curled up on his chest, swinging her leg over for him to grab. Just as they settled in good T’Challa looked down and kissed her forehead.

“I really am sorry”, he whispered.

“I know.” She craned her neck up and kissed his lips softly once, then twice, then by the third peck she had already started crawling up onto him, straddling his waist as she leaned over him, exploring his mouth. He pulled her silk nightie over her head so he could see her naked body in all its Bast-given glory.

“Ride me, Kitten,” he said softly. They didn’t argue often, but when they did Ashanti loved how soft he was with her after. When they had angry sex it was always fiery and rough, but Ashanti loved their “I’m sorry” sex, especially when T’Challa was the one apologizing. He was still his usual dominant self, but softer.

She grabbed his already hard dick in her hand and stroked it slowly from base to tip, rubbing her thumb over the precum seeping out of him and bringing it to her lips, sucking it into her mouth and cleaning her thumb off. He loved to watch her taste him, but he needed more.

“Stop playing,” he grumbled, making her giggle and place him at her entrance, slowly sliding down and taking him into her.

He thought she looked like a goddess when she rode him. Of course, he was often dominant in the bedroom, but when she got on top he liked to sit back and enjoy the ride. She knew how to work his body like it was her job, and as soon as she settled on him she started to bounce and he let out a low moan. He was completely at her mercy as Ariana Grande’s words rang through his head.

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

And I, I feel it after midnight

A feelin' that you can't fight

My one, it lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman

I don't wanna waste no time, yeah

You ain't got a one-track mind, yeah

Have it any way you like, yeah

And I can tell that you know I know how I want it

Ain't nobody else can relate

Boy, I like that you ain't afraid

Baby, lay me down and let's pray

I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it

And I can be all the things you told me not to be

(Yeah)

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing

(Yeah)

And he see the universe when I'm the company

It's all in me

“Just like that.”

He held her hips as she squatted on his dick, dropping her entire body weight down on him and taking him in deep. She came down on him repeatedly before switching up her approach by getting down on her knees and rocking into him. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her waist as her hips wound on him. He opened his mouth for a sloppy tongue kiss and she obliged, wrapping her arms around his neck as their bodies slowly rocked together in an intimate embrace. She tightened her walls around him and he groaned into the kiss and thrust up into her.

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

And I, I feel it after midnight

A feelin' that you can't fight

My one, it lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman

I'll tell you all the things you should know

So, baby, take my hand, save your soul

We can make it last, take it slow, hmm

And I can tell that you know I know how I want it, yeah

But you're different from the rest

And boy, if you confess, you might get blessed

See if you deserve what comes next

I'm tellin' you the way I like it, how I want it

And I can be all the things you told me not to be

(Yeah)

When you try to come for me, I keep on flourishing

(Yeah)

And he see the universe when I'm the company

It's all in me

She let out a high pitched moan and he grabbed her tighter, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“You’re a goddess.”

“I love how you feel inside.”

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I’m so sorry, my love. Do you forgive me?”

T’Challa flipped them over so she laid on her back and he slowly grinded into her as she tried her best to get the words out. He kissed up and down her neck, leaving little love bites as he went, knowing it drove her wild. Ashanti started to involuntarily clench around him and he groaned again, stirring his dick inside her when without warning, she flipped them back over and sat up.

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

And I, I feel it after midnight

A feelin' that you can't fight

My one, it lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah

(God is a woman, yeah)

My one

(One)

When all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

You'll believe God

(God is a woman)

Oh, yeah

(God is a woman, yeah)

(One)

It lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman

“I wasn’t done,” she said, riding him with a vengeance until the tension in her lower half bubbled over and her body shook on top of him. She collapsed onto his chest and he chuckled, loving her brief flashes of dominance. It only ever reared its head when they made up after a fight, but he liked the power struggle. He spread his legs for leverage and thrust up into her, hands gripping her ass so tight he was sure to leave marks.

“Come for me one more time, Kitten. Can you do that?”

“Mmmm, y-yes Kumkani.”

He drove into her repeatedly, and Ashanti’s eyes rolled back into her head.

“Oh my Bast, right there.”

“Right here?”

If it wasn't for her basic understanding of human anatomy, she could have sworn his dick reached her lungs. He found that spot over and over and tremors travelled through her body once more right as he began to twitch inside her.

“T’Challa!” she cried out as she came, and he was just a few seconds behind. His body tensed up and released as he emptied himself into her. Their heavy breathing was the only sound that filled the room for a while before T’Challa spoke up, a smile plastered on his face.

“Nice flip.”

“Mm”

Ashanti grinned lazily and laid her head down on his chest, getting comfortable with him still nestled inside her. She loved sleeping with him filling her, it was the closest she could get to him without crawling into his skin and since he loved the feeling of being inside her, he never complained. He smiled down at her and noticed she was already falling asleep. He left a kiss on her forehead and got comfortable under her before dozing off himself.

--------

“You can’t tell T’Challa, but I made you something.”

“I can’t lie to my husband, Shuri. Even if I wanted to, he’s a walking lie-detector.”

“Ugh fine, but only if he asks.”

“I can do that. So what’s the big secret?”

Shuri was vibrating with excitement. “I made you a suit.”

“You didn't.”

“I did!”

“Oh my Bast, show me!”

“Ok, close your eyes.”

“Shu-”

“Just do it, please. And no peeking!”

Ashanti sighed and closed her eyes, impatiently waiting for the reveal.

“Now open.”

Ashanti’s eyes blinked open and she saw a jewelry box in Shuri’s hand with what looked to be two bracelets and a pair of earrings of her own design. She was in awe as she reached in the box and ran her fingers over the small gold filigree earrings.

“Try it on,” Shuri pushed and Ashanti was compelled to do just that.

She went for the earrings first, popping them in her ears before sliding on the bracelets.

“Ok, what now?”

Shuri scanned the small vibranium ink tattoo behind her ear with her beads. “In your head, just tell it to go on.”

Ashanti took a breath before willing the suit to extend from her new jewelry. Her skin tingled as the nanites travelled from the bracelets and stretched over her body. She looked down at her all-black suit in complete admiration before she realized she was missing something.

“Does it come with a helm-”

As soon as she started the question, her earrings buzzed and she felt the tingle of the nanites covering her face.

“This is so fucking cool!” She yelled in excitement and ran to the closest reflective surface to check herself out. She turned around and saw her ass was looking right and smirked.

“Really? That’s what you check?” Shuri and Ashanti bursted into laughter just as they heard the doors swish open. Ashanti called the suit back in, but wasn’t quick enough. T’Challa caught a glimpse of it retreating right as he stepped into the lab.

“You made her a suit already? It took you forever to make mine.”

“That’s because I had to make new tech- wait, you’re not mad?”

“No, why would I be? If she’s going to be going on missions with me she needs a suit.”

“You two worked it out?!”

Ashanti laughed, “Yeah, we worked it out. We decided I’ll go with him on the next one.”

It seemed like Shuri was even more excited than Ashanti, but all three of them were ready to test out Ashanti’s new suit.

“Ok, so what can this bad boy do?” Ashanti asked her sister-in-law.

“It’s equipped with our cloaking technology, so when you turn invisible the suit can camouflage with you-”

Ashanti disappeared from view and laughed as she looked down and saw nothing below her.

“-and you have all the same weaponry as ubhuti, but I figured since you can explode on your own you didn't need the kinetic energy absorption.”

A still invisible Ashanti slowly formed a force field around her hand and pushed it out, growing it until about the size of a volleyball.

“And a couple more things: first, throw it,” Shuri said with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Throw what?”

“The bubble.”

Ashanti had never successfully done that before, but she gave it a go. She thrust her hand towards the wall and the bubble she had formed in her hand crashed into it.

“How did I do that?”

“Long story or short story?

“Short please.”

“Magnets.”

“Works for me. What else can I do?”

“Press that button on your left wrist and then try again,” she said while moving backwards, which prompted T’Challa to do the same. Ashanti pressed the button and felt another tingling sensation. She formed the forcefield in her hand as usual, but this time it had little volts of electricity running towards it. She chucked it at the wall and laughed as she watched it crash while the electricity fizzled out.

“I want to try something,” Ashanti smiled mischievously.

Shuri and T’Challa both saw her wheels turning and left the room as quickly as they could, turning back to watch through the glass doors. Ashanti lifted her hands and quickly formed a forcefield around herself, charging it with electricity and pushing all the way out. She smiled as she completely ruined the testing room, too caught up in the new suit to care. .

“You ruined my lab!” Shuri shouted through the door.

“It’s just the test room, relax,” Ashanti hollered back and retracted her suit.

T’Challa couldn’t help but smile at his wife. He was proud of her progress, no matter how much it still scared him to think of her going on missions. She was still the fiery artist he fell madly in love with, but she had become a warrior right before his eyes. He was in a daze the whole time watching her. She amazed him more and more every day, but today he saw her in a whole new light. Her strength, her powers, her hold over him...she really was a goddess. There was no other explanation. A dreamy smile appeared on his face as he thought of how blessed he was to be in her favor.

“What are you smiling at, goofy?” Ashanti poked him in his arm as they rode in the Talon back to the palace.

“You,” he looked down and kissed her lips softly. “You were amazing in there.”

“Aww, thank you baby,” she looked down as her face got hot and her ears tingled. All these years and he could still make her blush. Just as he leaned in to kiss her his beads rang and he looked down to see it was coming from the Avengers Compound.

“Looks like you might be getting out there sooner than we thought.” He answered the call and Nat’s hologram appeared hovering over his communication bead. “What is it this time? Aliens trying to blow up New York or something?”

“Hello to you, too. You’re close actually. Genetically manipulated creatures in New Jersey.”

“Monsters?” Ashanti popped into view.

“Oh, hello Queen Ashanti,” Natasha bowed her head in deference.

“Just Ashanti is fine. So monsters?”

“Yeah, some defamed ex geneticist did some experiments on a bunch of animals and now they’re basically demolishing Newark. I’m talking things that used to be bears and wolves, cougars even. We gotta do something, so T, you in or you out?”

“We’re in.” His voice was unwavering.

“We?”

“Yes, both of us.”

“Wow, ok. So yeah, we will see you two when you get there.”

The call ended and Ashanti beamed up at T’Challa, vibrating with excitement.

“I’m going on my first mission!” She jumped up and down and flew into his arms, kissing all over his face. “And it’s monsters!”

T’Challa laughed as Ashanti started doing a little celebratory twerk. He thought back to Siyanda’s drawing of them from when she first started having premonitions a couple years ago. It was still hanging on their fridge since Siyanda insisted it go right next to her family portrait.

When they arrived at the palace, Ashanti had started to get nervous. It had just sunk in what she was about to go do. She wasn’t second guessing herself, but she felt the gravity of the situation. She already knew the outcome thanks to her daughter, but still…

“You ok, Kitten?” he asked her over the ding of the elevators as they rode up to their quarters.

“Hm? Yeah, I just have some first time jitters, that’s all.”

“That happened to me too. It still does.”

“Really?” She looked up at him in surprise. She never thought about him getting nervous before, it seemed so out of character for the Black Panther.

“Yes, every time now. I’m always worried about making it back to you and Yaya, but I use that feeling to push through and make sure I get home. Think about her, and use it to fuel you.”

Ashanti nodded and her mind drifted to her daughter, her intyatyambo, her baby girl. She would do anything for Siyanda. Hell, she developed a whole superpower to protect her.

“I will.”

The two of them quickly packed their things. T’Challa called Ramonda and let her know of the plan, and she excitedly agreed to be Siyanda’s guardian while they were gone. Chidi and Bisa were on a flight to Italy at the moment, so Ashanti left them a voicemail telling them the good news. The king and queen then went to pick up their daughter from school early, like they always did when T’Challa had to leave in the middle of the day, and when they brought her back to the palace they dropped the news on her.

“Yaya, baby, we need to tell you something, ok?”

“Ok mama, what is it?”

“Well...I’m going with your baba this time. We’re gonna go fight monsters,” the smile on her face grew as Yaya’s eyes got bigger and bigger until she ran out of room.

The princess jumped up and down in excitement. “You’re a superhero just like baba!”

T’Challa chuckled at his daughter, “She certainly is.”

It was a clear, sunny November day in Wakanda. The kind of day where people couldn’t help but to be happy because it felt so good outside. Ashanti walked with her head held high as she and her family made their way to the Royal Talon. Shuri and T’Challa both kept sneaking looks at her in her suit, but for very different reasons: Shuri was proud of her handiwork, and T’Challa was thankful for Bast’s.

“Ok baby girl,” Ashanti said as they both crouched down in front of Siyanda. She cupped her face in her hands and kissed her forehead, then all over her face. Siyanda giggled and T’Challa reached in with a sneak attack and started tickling her, making her laugh ring out even louder. The more she laughed he could see Ashanti’s nerves melting away and being replaced by a look of complete love and adoration. It was the same look he got when he thought of his girls, and the same look that twinkled in her eye when their eyes met. “You be good for your grandma. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

“I know mama, I saw it before. Remember?”

“We remember,” T’Challa grabbed her and planted kisses all over her face like her mother just did before hugging her tight.

The two adults stood to their full heights, looking to each other and nodding.

“It’s time for us to go,” T’Challa said as he hugged and kissed Ramonda and Shuri goodbye before hugging Siyanda tight just one more time. Ashanti did the same and the two of them walked towards the Talon hand in hand.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to do this, Challa,” Ashanti said as they reached the stairs. Before taking the first step she turned around and faced him “I love you so much.”

He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead then her nose then her lips.

“I love you too, Kitten.”

“Now let’s go kick some monster ass!” She ran up the stairs and into the Talon, leaving him behind at the foot of the stairs shaking his head in disbelief at the turns his life has taken. Just ten years ago he couldn't see himself with a wife and child...he didn’t even think he’d be king yet, but here he was. When he walked into Taj’s that day he had no idea he would meet the love of his life, his child’s mother...hopefully children someday soon-ish. He loved her with his whole self, yet somehow always had room for growth. The excitement on her face kept him grounded as he tried to focus on the mission at hand and not getting lost in Ashanti’s assets.

The door closed behind them and the king and queen waved goodbye to their family through the window and caught the kisses Siyanda blew at them from the ground. As the ship continued it’s ascent and their family became as small as ants, Ashanti turned to T’Challa.

“So what now?”

He flashed a gap-toothed smile and reached for her hand, pulling her in close to him and planting a kiss on her lips.

“Now we go over intel and formulate a plan. You ready?”

“Yes sir,” Ashanti stood up straight and nodded, saluting him.

He smiled and returned the gesture before stilling himself. Ashanti watched as T’Challa melted away and his facial features took on a more stern look. She wasn’t looking at her husband anymore, she was looking at the Black Panther.

“Then lets go kick some monster ass,” he said with a predatory grin as the ship disappeared through the shield and into the outside world. Ashanti’s nerves melted away as the Talon flew through the air and she knew she was ready. She could do this. They could do this, together.

The End

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything.

Again, thank you.

Taglist:@ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall, @dersha89, @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa #t'challa x oc #black!oc #playlist

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inoshishidoshi · 3 years

Text

𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑪 𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬.

bold what applies to your muse, italicize what sometimes applies to them.

𝚆𝚄𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂. the wildness of open spaces. withered trees with limbs like spiders. abandoned homes. two souls that are the same. dying young. the ghost of a girl. revenge that does not satisfy. tapping at the window. knowing too much of the pains of others. cruelty that doesn’t fade. an unresolved past. marrying, but not for love. rolling hills. hair flying in the blustering wind. sudden illness. disinterment. the deep pain of loss. carrying a namesake that is not your own. facing a storm head on. an accent thick upon the tongue. a figure on the horizon. shrouded by mist. aging walls and rotting floorboards. intruding upon the wake of destruction. wasting away. together in death.

𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙴𝚈𝚁𝙴. the madwoman in the attic. candle-flame and burn stains. soft laughter. a fire roaring in the hearth. silence in the halls. folded hands over modest skirts. the pain of being wronged. a wedding interrupted at the altar. dark brows. a horse riding up the path. the isolation of a church. gray skies. landscape as bleak as your soul. finding sanctuary. a bird flying free from its cage. discovering your worth. returning to a place that feels like home. falling in love in spite of yourself. schoolyards full of children. lying in bed while clasping a loved one’s hands in yours. hopeless prayers. hiding in an alcove to read. timid but strong. being true to oneself above all.

𝙵𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙺𝙴𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙸𝙽. grand prose. the glory of nature. playing god. the spark of madness that drives creation. stripped down to shirtsleeves. the gritty streets of the city. staying awake too long. snow-capped peaks. retreating from society. innocent recollections that become twisted. a lost paradise. lightning across a dark sky. to be destined for one alone. shouting from the top of a mountain. strewn corpses. the implements of a surgeon scattered across a surface. a bride on her wedding night. books left open to gather dust, pulled from shelves. dark circles beneath the eyes. the deathly pallor of a corpse. things alive that shouldn’t be. desiring a love of your own. feeling your soul restored with a bliss that cannot last. icy terrain. unsatisfactory endings.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙷𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙾𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙰. the long, fatal crack across a mirror. unearthly voices echoing through the dark. a duet. snow falling against statues of angels. the lament of a violin’s strings. resurrected hopes. the sensation of being watched. candles blowing out on their own. masquerade revelers. unrequited love. the snapping of a noose. an obscured face. the scintillating light of an ornate chandelier. mysterious and inexplicable catastrophes. watching your dreams shatter. curtains drawing back from a stage. devils that are angels. a soft kiss on the forehead. scratches of red ink. long capes and gloved hands. retreating to the rooftop. being led in a trance. love as your undoing and your salvation.

𝙽𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙴𝚈. the turrets of a gothic mansion made of stone. portraits looming above the stairwell. suspicion of all around you. dreaming of grandeur, awaking to normalcy. the sound of a carriage coming up the street. top hats and fine suits. dancing at a ball. the lavish throes of society. the thrill of being introduced. a mystery that goes ignored. chests that harbor secrets. old love letters. thumbing through the pages of a novel. disappointing the one you admire. the appearance of indifference. having your heart played with. grand rooms housing past memories. mistaken first impressions. affluent personages. kissing in the garden.

𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰. your life draining out of you. a castle on a lonely precipice. fog spreading through woodlands. dutifully kept journals. enthusiastic correspondence with one you love. blood dripping down the chin. a tongue stroking sharp teeth. the howling of wolves coming closer. wreathes of garlic hung about the room. rosary beads and crucifixes. violence that spans centuries. tall figures that cast long shadows. disturbing the silence of a grave. the sensation of leaving your homeland. not dead, only sleeping. last wishes. a long and arduous journey. an ominous ship at sea. the sound of shovels in the basement. eerie lights that obstruct your path. goblets of blood red wine. a stake through the heart. to be at peace at last.

tagged by : @vilifyme - thanks so much! I hope I didn’t disappoint! Tagging : @basketiisms , @tohruuhondaa , @brokenmare , @catsarefoolish , @hatsuuharu , @bravedfate

#❝ ooc ❞ ╱ dash games

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dreamsofthescreen · 3 years

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The Debate On Life in La Grand Bellezza (The Great Beauty) - Analysis and Review

“Traveling is very useful: it makes your imagination work. Everything else is just disappointment and trouble. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength.”

Toni Servillo in ‘La Grande Bellezza’

Nominated for the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival, Paolo Sorrentino’s ‘La Grande Bellezza’ (The Great Beauty) can be seen as a stroke of real cinematic magic. Though blunt and simple it’s premise may appear, the Italian art-drama film mostly flourishes in it’s ability to communicate a profoundly deep and educational message on humanity today. And however much of a visual spectacle that it is, it is the change in one man’s lifestyle from decadently hedonistic to lavishly inspiring sweeps us off our feet, the romance of Rome following close behind. Direction by Sorrentino and cinematography by Luca Bigazzi, this work is seeped in richness and pure emotion, leaving many critics weak at the knees. Sprinkled with history and following a poetic undertone, the opening scene quotes Celine, stating “Traveling is very useful: it makes your imagination work. Everything else is just disappointment and trouble. Our journey is entirely imaginary, which is its strength.”

Set amongst the grandeur of the eternal city, Rome, we follow Jep Gambardella - a 65 year old acclaimed former writer and socialite who lives and breathes the superficial high life. It isn’t until after his lavishly outrageous 65th birthday party that he looks past the nightclubs to look inwards and find true meaning or ‘the great beauty’. Amongst all the frivolous glory that sex, drugs and rock & roll seem to provide, Jep is searching for truth. No doubt a shockingly stunning film that can be compared to the likes of European classics, Federico Fellini or Jean-Luc Godard, Bigazzi’s cinematography tends to focus on architectural pieces, bodies and classical art, thus following the culture of Rome closely. Appearing as though audiences follow the camera themselves, some of Jep’s closest friends are seen through freely moving shots, sometimes frantically following the beat of the pulsing club music. Flowing with history, operatic passion and grand emotion, some claim that it is the visual spectacle that creates the meaning of the film, rather than the meaning itself being striking. Yet, it is the mix of visuals, plot and the great characterisation of Jep as a person, as well as his change that creates the grand interest. From technicolour rooftop nightclubs to the silent streets of the eternal city, we get differing perspectives on modern Rome, and how it blends in with it’s ancient history. Sorrentino summed up the location in all it’s grandeur by stating ‘Rome has a beauty so large that one could die from looking at it for too long’. And Sorrentino seems to even portray Jep as the human embodiment of Rome, as he lives through the city’s highs and lows. I will say that, however much Jep seeks to find ‘the great beauty’, he is still surrounded by luxurious interiors and grand Roman palaces, not exactly aligning with his growing ideals and change in attitude. As if to make a point of his attempted normality and stripping of decadence, he still walks among it many times. Yet these environments do turn into something simple like a local coffee shop or a siesta in his apartment, thus showing his change.

Often compared to Fellini’s ‘La Dolce Vita’ because of it’s similar plot, Sorrentino’s film certainly seems inspired by that, but is not just a carbon copy of it. It does stand strongly on it’s own. ‘La Grande Bellezza’ seems to be a deeper character study of Jep. There is analysis in the plot, and there is the contrast between life and death, as well as the grandeur of simplicity & nostalgia. Where Jep fits in as a real socialite, mingling with other members of high Roman society, he is the standalone character who really looks within himself, rather than only around. And the film captures a generation caught up in facades, who do refuse to look inward. Struck by the death of a lover from the past, where Jep was once running around in fame and nightlife, he is motivated to look back on simplicity, rather than the excessive. This simplicity comes in appreciating the natural beauty and culture of Rome, swapping a strip club for a quiet afternoon in a historic vineyard or museum, reminiscing on his childhood. As someone asks Jep “what is it that you love the most?”, he responds with, “the smell of old people’s houses”, commenting on something so simplistic, but still beautiful in it’s age and nostalgia. This nostalgia beckons Jep following the death of Elisa, his first and only love. However romantic this may seem, it is more so philosophical in it’s approach. Searching for more meaning, having now reached 65, he however does at times seem more pessimistic as he looks into himself, stating ‘what’s wrong with feeling nostalgic? It’s the only distraction left for those who’ve no faith in the future’. Us as an audience can view this as either something quite pretentious and negative, or interpret it as a step towards appreciating what he once had, and can work towards.

And the film itself is at times quite pretentious, but it is floating around in philosophy, and still for sure packs a punch. The philosophy is in the ever-changing time and focus on nostalgia. In a scene where Jep ends up in a plastic surgeons office, he is surrounded by old hopefuls who long for their past & get it through pricey facelifts. A scene focusing on nostalgia, the surgeon asks the woman, ‘want to go back 30 years, to when it always rained in late August?’ The bell rings, calling customers again and again, this showing the repetitive and lifeless nature of these creatures desperate for the past, with no regard for their own happiness, but have decided to instead conform. Jep often has these moments of recognising and looking past this fakery, once the curtain of his lavish lifestyle drops. In terms of Jep’s change, there is the contrast between life and death, and having reached the age of 65, some cynicism is there, but it is all a grand reflection upon his own changing desires. The change from being the king of high society to settling down as he goes through life could be seen as just an exaggerated view on what happens as we grow older, but 'La Grande Bellezza’ strategically claims it to be more than that. Set in the eternal city, Jep sees the ephemeral nature of most things. Where there is celebration of life in parties, there is also tragic death, having those festivities seem pointless. He states, ‘this is how it always ends. With death. But first there was life.’ Pointing in the direction of existentialism, this is a fairly simple statement in the blunt writing of Sorrentino, but sums up Jep’s perspective quite successfully. Where death happens every day, the eternal city that is Rome continues to go on, it being a playground for those in it during their time.

Like exchanging a stack of cash for a chocolate gelato, the debate about what is most beautiful in life is subjective, but mostly easy to answer. This being love, family, cherished moments and happiness. Sorrentino’s film creates such a contrast between two great beauty’s, focusing on the lightheartedness and meaninglessness of life as something so grand, as opposed to the glamorous and superficial. This fairly simple point is communicated with wonderful execution, gripping audiences onto every moment and person that Jep encounters. The writing style and expression of the film itself is quite blunt, yet I so appreciated this & found that it only kept it more realistic. Seemingly straightforward in it’s approach, this bluntness did mean that emotions don’t flow as freely you’d expect and are not visibly fluctuating or dramatised.

Something important to note is that Sorrentino’s film is not only a comment on one mans story, but of course society today. He may have been trying to paint a picture of the differing perspectives of modern Italians, a take on modernity that anyone abroad can relate to and understand. Though to say that Italians are either loudly materialistic or quietly philosophical is an exaggerated view of the two extremes, rather than a summation of all Italian culture. Sorrentino too so cleverly comments on the history of Rome in a beautiful way, as he shows the change in and disregard for Rome’s epic culture. For someone like Jep who writes about the light and life that Rome offers, he hadn’t written a single thing in 40 years, pleading ignorance to these cultural writings, as he got caught up in the generic party scene. Rome seems to be the perfect place and most definitely not just a pretty setting, but a backdrop to represent the need for Jep to find himself again.

As modernity and the party scene greatly contrasts the beautiful history of Rome, Jep, though the ‘king of the highlife’, finds himself and ‘the great beauty’ whilst focusing on the historical beauty of the city. This could be as though to say that he went back to what was always there, after decades of relishing in the fakery of high society. This is a point familiar to many, that money or fame cannot buy happiness or love, and that the novelty of it does wear away for good reason. And this is a popular debate, as we as an audience can comment on what we find most beautiful, challenging us to question our place in the world & whether or not we should rely so much on ephemeral materialism. Following his revelation of change within himself following his birthday, he states that ‘the most important thing I discovered a few days after turning 65 is that I can’t waste any more time doing things I don’t want to do.’ Whilst he sits down to drinks with members of Italian aristocracy and engages in meaningless affairs over the years, none of that was what he wanted to do.

Jep’s mission to find the ‘great beauty’ stems from not only the shock of the death of his only love, but the fact that he has an unfulfilled career goal. He had wanted to make a film about ‘happiness & how difficult it is facing the passing of time’. To which, whilst at another seating with Italy’s cream of society, friend Gustave Flaubert comments, ‘the finest works are those that contain the least matter; the closer expression comes to thought’. Again, Jep is searching for meaning and passion, but this focus on nothing is greatly existential.

And the film itself is a bit pretentious at times, as much as critics do drool over it, as it could be noted as a European wonder, as it’s expression is quite different to any classic British or American feature. Sorrentino seems to attempt to make a big point about the fragility and fleeting nature of life, yet it is hard to ravel. Maybe tedious, it does still make an excellent point and, marking what makes a terrific film, it does still have us audiences in deep thought. Is the poetic and philosophical nature of Sorrentino’s writing provoking, or just confusing? As Jep is surrounded by hopeful authors, brooding thoughts tossed around in an attempt to create some depth. Yet these statements that seek to inspire can be deemed as only artsy and somewhat overblown. Though it is absolutely not without it’s great moments of reflection. As Jep visits a friends’ wedding, he tries to engage in a meaningful conversation with a priest, who instead fobs him off as he becomes distracted with the gossip and scene around him. This is a moment that is impactful, as it presents the grand change in society and even how established figures, such as a priest, have become caught up in the popular bustle of daily life, rather than their deep-seated faith or thoughtful meaning.

Sorrentino’s master work that is ‘La Grande Bellezza’ (The Great Beauty), is critically acclaimed for good reason, as within it’s gorgeous colour, life and grand visual spectacle, there is still a beautifully resonant message. A film or piece of art’s interest can be defined by it’s discussion, as Sorrentino does successfully get this ball rolling. The film so successfully does capture a society who refused to collectively look inward, to which audiences are vastly inspired in all it’s philosophical questioning. Though it can be deemed as a grandiose piece of work, it is still nothing short of exceptional, and does deserve the majority of the praise it has received over the years. As travel is an aspect in life that educates and changes us, Sorrentino’s ‘La Grand Bellezza’ is like a walk through Rome that has the potential to immeasurably shape us, making it one for the books.

Stars Out Of Five: 3.5/5

visit at: dreamsofthescreen.com

#cinema #italiancinema #paolo sorrentino #italianfilm #film #filmwriting #filmwriters #writersoftumblr #blogger #philosophy

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nibelheimraised · 3 years

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𝑮𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑪 𝑳𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬.

bold what applies to your muse, italicize what sometimes applies to them. ( repost, don’t reblog. )

tagged by: @turk-ishdelight thank you <33 tagging: @acollapsar @onepartbrave @apathetic-ruler

#[ meme games ]#[ aesthetic ]#// this is so late I'm sorry orz #// It was buried under all my drafts fjoiwaofeao;

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awhitehead17 · 4 years

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Unexpected Guest

TimKon, Future fic, Fluff, Family, Injuries.

Summary: On one quiet night, Tim and Kon get an unexpected visit from their granddaughter who was apparently injured.

A/N: @magmabanana asked for ‘TimKon fluff when they’re old and have their granddaughter visiting them?’ This may not be exactly what you had in mind and their ages aren’t super obvious but hopefully you’ll still like it!

Enjoy! :D

A knock at the door gets their attention. Tim pauses the film they were watching and looks at the grand clock on the mantle piece before looking at his husband.

“Were we expecting someone this late?” He asks pushing himself out of the chair. It takes a moment to do so and he has to stretch out his back, wincing when a loud pop sounds out. Getting old has done him no favours.

As he shuffles to the front door, Kon answers him. “I don’t think so. Might be some lost stranger.”

Tim nods. Kon could be right, their farm was kind of out in the middle of nowhere and multiple times a week they get random people knocking on their door asking for directions. When he makes it to the front door he opens it up and blinks in surprise.

His granddaughter of 16 years is stood on the porch, her hand was pressed against her side which was clearly bleeding, she was in a tattered vigilante uniform and looked rather dirty. Without asking any questions Tim steps to the side and ushers her indoors. He grabs her and gently guides her into the kitchen, urging her to sit when they get there.

“Kon! Come here!” He shouts for his long-time partner as he gets out the medical kit they keep fully stocked under the sink.

“Why? Who was it at the door?”

“Just do it! Beth’s here.”

When he grabs the kit he turns to his granddaughter who gives him a tight smile. “Hey grandad. It’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t been by recently.”

Tim grabs another chair and slowly lowers himself down onto it. “It has been a while honey. Now you want to tell me what happened and why you’ve come here?”

He leans in close to Beth and starts cutting away the fabric of her tattered uniform. Decades of experience allowing him to automatically give medical attention.

“Beth what on earth happened! Are you okay?” Kon gasps as he enters the kitchen. He comes to stand beside Tim, watching as he starts cleaning her wound.

The teenager hisses and then lets out a pained laugh. “Oh you know, mission went sideways, shit happened and here we are. I didn’t want my team to treat me, I don’t know why but I just flew here and wanted to see you. The plane’s a field or two over.”

Kon leans over and gently peels her domino mask off her face. Once it was gone, two tired light blue eyes look up at him. They clench shut as Tim wipes the wound with an antiseptic.

“We love seeing you, and you’re welcome here anytime but it doesn’t really explain to us why you turned up on our doorstep bleeding. Do your parents know where you are?” Tim asks glancing at her before resuming his work. Thankfully the wound wasn’t too big, it looked a lot worse than what it actually was, it didn’t even need stitches.

A moment of silence stretches as they wait for her to answer. When she doesn’t, Tim and Kon share an exasperated but knowing look. Kon goes to the sink, wets a clean cloth and starts gently wiping her face, clearing away the dirt that was there.

“Honey, you should know better than to leave your parents in the dark, especially if you’ve been injured.” Tim tells her as he starts to bandage up the cut. It was still sluggishly bleeding but it wasn’t as bad as it had been, after a week or two it’ll be all healed up.

Beth turns her head away from Kon’s administrations and takes the cloth from him to do it herself. Her expression now in a scowl as she stares at the floor.

“I didn’t tell them because we had an argument before I left for the mission. It got quite heated and I’m not ready to go back yet. I don’t want to and they’d only baby me anyway.” She states firmly.

Unable to help it, a small smile takes over his face as he watches her. Sometimes their granddaughter reminds him so much of himself and Kon. At this age she has clearly gotten Kon’s attitude, though she certainly picked it up from her own mother too. A glance at Kon tells him that his husband was thinking something similar.

“But you don’t mind us babying you? Looking after you like this?” Kon questions her looking amused.

Beth pauses, her eyes flicker at the both of them before averting away again. “Well it’s different with you because you can relate more. My mum never did this, she doesn’t get it. But also the fact I’m the only human on the team. It’s hard and they just don’t get, I need to be strong and not be a reliability.”

That’s where she reminds Tim of himself, they seemed to have shared the same mindset. However what she is saying is true. When her mother was growing up, he and Kon never hid the night life from her, they involved her whenever she wanted making sure everything was safe. Surprisingly when she hit her teens, when they deemed her ready to be a vigilante, she turned it down, choosing to not go into the life.

Tim was both surprised and proud by that decision of hers. She wanted to live a ‘normal’ life, though she helped out in the medical department from time to time. It’s probably why she went and became a surgeon. Choosing to save lives in a different way to how the family does. They were proud of her the entire time.

“It’s unfortunate you didn’t get the full Kryptonian genes, but we do understand. It doesn’t make it okay though.” Tim says gently, finally finishing up treating her wound. He lets out a groan as he sits up straight. His back has certainly been playing up recently. He hates being old.

Beth looks up at them both, “Please don’t tell them. I just need some time to think things through. And like I said, it has been a while since I last saw you two. Can I stay for a couple days?”

Kon reaches out and strokes a hand through her messy black hair, untying the hair band when he reaches it to brush it out completely. “Of course you can. There's still some of your clothes in the spare bedroom.”

Beth smiles and stands up, “Thank you and sorry for barging in on you like this!”

Tim also stands and looks at her. In the back of his mind he’s a little annoyed that his granddaughter is an inch or two off from being the same height as him. He’s always been short but the fact that every other family member seems to have gotten the height gene it’s a little annoying.

He reaches out and carefully draws her into a hug. “Maybe a heads up would be nice but it’s not a problem. You know that.”

They part and Kon moves in to hug her and presses a kiss to her temple. “Go get yourself cleaned up now okay. When you come back down there’s some chocolate cake in the fridge that you can have if you like.”

Tim laughs at the way her face brightens up at that. She leans steps in close to Tim to give him a kiss on the cheek and does the same for Kon. “Thank you so much! This is why you two are my favourites! I’ll be down in a bit!”

As she disappears Tim moves around to pack away the medical kit, shaking his head. “Kids huh?” He comments lightly.

Kon snorts, “We’re not exactly in a position to say anything. We were just as bad, if not worse.”

After putting away the kit Tim goes and stands beside Kon, wrapping an arm around his partners waist. Kon automatically wraps his own arm around his back and Tim leans into him. Even after decades of doing this, there was still a surge of happiness that swells inside of him every time they stand together like it. He’s glad it’s never faded from when they were young.

“She’s still got so much to learn and experience yet.” Tim says thoughtfully, thinking about what he went through when he was her age. That year was probably the worst year in his entire life, even to this day.

“She does, but she has friends and family all around her, she’s a tough one.” Kon smiles at him knowingly. “She’s got Drake-Kent blood running through her veins and there’s no doubt about it that she has the personality and stubbornness of a Wayne. She’ll be alright.”

From within the house they could hear Beth moving about between the bathroom and bedroom. Tim smiles up at his husband. “I know. She’ll do great things and we’ll guide her through her journey as much as we can.”

#timkon #Tim Drake #Kon-El #future fic #fanfiction #fluff #family #injuries #Family Visits #oc character #prompt

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 4 years

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Chapter Five: Daisy Darling

Forever? Masterlist

Ashley wasn’t keen on the sticky and sweaty British summer, and it wasn’t much easier being thirty four weeks pregnant. Her regular scans had shown that the baby was developing at a more regular rate, she was still smaller than average, but she was a healthier size now. Ashley only had three weeks left at work before her maternity leave started, she was pretty much prepared, Harry had helped her put the cot together before he left for filming in France, which was an absolute relief. She was spending her Tuesday morning the way she did every week, eating her way through a packet of biscuits, with the help of Toby and Roman when he walked past her desk of course. “Ro! please save me from myself, finish these biscuits off please! I beg you!” Ashley called across the office as she noticed Roman leaving the studio.

He made his way over to her desk, “Okay if you insist,” He took the biscuits from her, and began munching on one, “Do you fancy a brew?”

“Alright then, I’ll come with you actually.” She stood up from her desk and waddled over to the small office kitchen.

As she leant against the counter in the kitchen Ashley felt a sharp pain in her stomach, she winced gripping onto the counter. “You alright?” Roman asked, pouring milk into their mugs.

“Yeah it’s probably just braxton hicks,” she assured him, but then she felt a pop, that told her these weren’t just braxton hicks, “Oh shit Ro, I think the baby’s coming.”

“Oh God, what do you want me to do? Shall I call Harry?” He flustered, dropping the teaspoon on the floor in panic.

“No, he’s in France filming, it’ll only worry him,” she whispered, breathing through the pain, “My phones on my desk, I need you to call Gemma and tell her to meet me at St Thomas hospital, and ask if she can get my hospital bag on the way.” Roman ran off to her desk trying to find her phone and gather her things, she started panicking remembering that the doctors said it was extremely important for her to get as close to full term as possible. She began to tear up thinking about how Harry wouldn’t be there, they both knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be there, but he was meant to be on a filming break in the week of her due date, but this wasn’t what either of them had expected, “I’ve got your stuff, I’m going to drive you, I don’t want you getting a cab by yourself, Gemma’s going to meet us at the hospital.”

The journey to the hospital felt like a lifetime, as Roman pulled into the drop off point, she saw Gemma waiting armed with a wheelchair and her baby bag. Roman jumped out the car, helping Ashley out of the car and into the wheelchair, he exchanged thank yous with Gemma, wished Ashley well and left the two of them to find their way to maternity. “I’m scared Gem,” Ashley whispered to her.

“Hey, we’re going to be strong together aren’t we? We’re going to get through this, us three girls.” Gemma assured her as she wheeled her into maternity.

“You two alright there?” A passing midwife asked.

“Her waters have broken, she’s thirty four weeks, she was at work when it happened so this isn’t the hospital she’d usually be at, that’s alright isn’t it?” Gemma replied on Ashley’s behalf.

“That should be absolutely fine, we’ll have someone send your notes over, right let’s get this show on the road.”

Ashley has been changed into a gown and was now lying on a hospital bed, waiting for the midwife whilst she breathed through her next contraction. “Hello, I’m Dr Stevenson, I’ve been sent your notes from your usual hospital and I’m aware the baby is a little smaller than we’d like.” the Doctor explained as she entered the room, “I've spoken to Maggie the midwife who checked you over and she said baby is breech, meaning she’s foot first, and due to her size we think it’s best to do an emergency cesarean section, we don’t want to put her through the stress of natural labour.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Ashley asked.

“Trust me, this is the best thing for both of you to keep you both safe, the nurses will be along soon to prep you for theatre.” Dr Stevenson explained before leaving her be.

“It’s happening Gem, it’s really happening, she sighed.

“Do you want me to call Harry?” Gemma asked.

“No, I’ll tell him when she’s here.”

Ashley lay on the operating table, Gemma sat beside her, wearing scrubs as she stroked her hand through Ashley’s hair. The surgeon had made the first incision and was doing her very best to keep the baby safe. “Not long now Ashley, we’ll have her out soon.” Dr Stevenson assured her, “She’s here, we’ve got her.” Dr Stevenson held up the tiny baby, cutting the umbilical cord and taking her over to the side.

“She’s not crying, she’s meant to be crying, what’s going on?” Ashley cried, her voice wavering with anxiety.

“Sometimes the little ones need a helping hand, Dr Stevenson’s just warming her up.” A nurse explained.

“Come on love, stay strong.” Gemma whispered, stroking Ashley’s hair, the painful silence was interrupted by the baby’s high pitched scream, “She’s okay Ash, she’s a fighter.”

“Is she alright?” Ashley asked Dr Stevenson.

“We’re going to take her to ICU, to minimise risk of infection, and make sure she’s stable, the surgeon will stitch you up and then you can come down and see her.”

It had reached the early hours of the evening, golden sun was streaming through the windows of the hospital, Ashley lay in bed, the majority of the anesthetic had worn off now. “How are you feeling?” a new midwife asked, checking Ashley’s notes.

“Good, thank you.” Ashley replied.

“If you’d like to I can take you to see your baby.”

“Yes please.” with the help of the midwife and Gemma she got into the wheelchair successfully as they took her down to the intensive care unit.

“Here’s your little lady, I’m afraid you can’t hold her yet, but you can put your hands in and she’ll clasp onto your finger, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Hello beautiful, did it get too boring in there petal?” Ashley reached her hand inside the incubator, letting her baby hold onto her finger, “We’re going to have to give you a name little lady, how does Daisy sound? I think it suits you perfectly. It’s a scary world out there Daisy darling, but we’ll get through it together.”

Gemma entered the room, armed with cups of tea, “She’s perfect Ash, you did so well in there.” Gemma whispered, handing Ashley a cup of tea.

“Thank you for sticking with me through all of it. If you need to get home I’ll understand, I think I owe Harry a call.” Ashley told her.

“Alright then, I’ll see you soon, if you need anything, let me know.” Gemma replied before quietly leaving the NICU room.

Ashley pulled her phone from the pocket of her dressing gown, dialling Harry’s number, who picked up almost instantly, “Hello movie star, how are you?”

“I’m good, it’s been busy today, I’m back at the hotel now, how about you?” he replied, sitting on the end of his hotel bed.

“Pretty uneventful,” she grinned, “Someone’s decided to say hello to the world six weeks early.”

“Wait, you mean-”

“My daughter was born at 2pm today.” She told him.

“Are you okay? Is she okay?” Harry asked frantically, “If you need me to come back early I can.”

“I don’t need you to do that H, she’s little so they’ve put her in an incubator, just as a precaution, until she’s stronger.” Ashley explained, Daisy still clutching onto her finger.

“You weren’t on your own we’re you?” Harry worried.

“No, Roman drove me from work, Gem met me here and stayed with me throughout, she’s gone home now though.” Ashley explained.

“That’s good, have you given her a name?”

“Daisy, Daisy Alice Hanson.” Ashley replied, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she admired her newborn baby.

“I miss you, I’ll be back mid august though so I’ll see you then.” Harry explained.

“We look forward to it, at least by then you’ll be able to hug her, at the moment she can only hold onto my hand.”

“Well I look forward to my first hug from her, and you of course.” Harry replied.

“We’re so lucky to have you Harry.” Ashley told him.

“Trust me, I’m the lucky one.”

The following morning Ashley stirred from her sleep thanks to the sound of familiar voices beside her bed, she opened her eyes to see her mum Linda and Anne sat beside her. “Hello love, how are you?” Linda whispered.

“Stiff, I’ve been in this bed for a solid twelve hours, I’ve been wheeled everywhere,” Ashley told them both, shuffling to sit herself up properly, “Anne, you have raised two absolute angels, Gemma was incredible yesterday, and speaking to Harry on the phone last night made my heart feel so full.”

“I’m just glad to see you’re alright sweetheart.” Anne told her.

“How was the journey down?” Ashley asked them both.

“It was good, we got the train down, and we stopped off on the way to get some bits for you and the baby, I imagine all the baby grows you’ve got are going to be a bit big at the moment so we bought you some premature ones.” Linda explained.

“That’s lovely mum thank you, would you both like to meet Daisy?” Ashley asked.

Ashley wasn’t wrong when she said she was stiff, she had managed to change into a hoodie and joggers, but walking was a bit difficult at first. She led Anne and Linda into NICU, “Mum, Anne, this is baby Daisy.” She showed them the incubator where Daisy lay sound asleep, a tiny hat covering the top of her tiny head.

“She’s beautiful,” Linda whispered.

“Perfect.” Anne agreed.

“I’m already so in love with her, I can’t quite believe she’s finally here.”

One Week Later

“I’ve got some good news for you Ashley.” The midwife told Ashley who was sat feeding Daisy, who was now strong enough to be held, “The doctors think Daisy’s made enough progress in the last week for you to take her home.”

“Really? Do you mean today?” she asked.

“We’ll have to do a few checks beforehand, but I don’t see why not.” She explained.

“Hear that Dais? We’re going home today.”

Once the doctors had done their relevant checks, they agreed that Daisy was healthy enough to go home, Ashley placed a peacefully sleeping Daisy into her pram, her fingertips just about poking out of the sleeves of her baby grow that was way too big for her. “Right my love, it’s time for you to face the big wide world.” Ashley pushes the pram out to the waiting area where Gemma was waiting with all the bags.

“You ready?” Gemma asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

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