#agu: drabble

[callmemana]

All Grown Up:

Summary: The Kazansky and Kerner’s watch their daughters graduate from High School.

🚨warnings🚨: fluff, soft Slider and Iceman moments.

{masterlist 📚} {previous chapter 📎} {next chapter 📖}

In honor of our baby Mousey graduating HS in a few weeks!

It was a hot afternoon in May on the Miramar base that the Kazansky family were currently stationed at.

Ice and Dragon couldn’t be more proud of their daughters as the couple and the Kerner’s sat by one another to watch this big moment in their children’s lives.

The tight friendship between their parents had been carried on to the Kazansky sisters and the Kerner girl.

When both women were told that they had a low chance to have a baby, it pained them to know that they wouldn’t be able to experience the same things as other couples on the base.

But by what seems like a wish upon a shooting star, within a month of each other, Rachael and Jade found out that they were pregnant.

Tom and Ron were very helpful during the pregnancies and tried to be there for every appointment and when the men couldn’t, the women would be each others support systems.

They were all thankful for this day, the girls because they could finally follow in their parents footsteps and join the Navy and the couples because it showed that their babies were growing up.

The girls were all dressed in their official Navy Officer uniforms, hair slicked back in the mandatory bun, and the Navy chords laying on the back of their necks.

Nerves shot up their backs as they waited in the line before walking out to the football stadium that held the awaiting parents.

Baylie Kazansky, the eldest, started the hand holding train with the two other girls behind her. As the leader, she made sure to care for the younger two.

Raven was in the middle and the youngest of the group, the older girls protected her at all cost and wouldn’t let anyone hurt their Mousey.

Last but not least, was Amanda Kerner. The only child of Slider and Whiskey, but saw the Kazansky’s as her second family.

All the girls had ‘graduated’ in the second semester of the school year and gone to bootcamp between then and now.

Today made it official and would get their diplomas that they worked so hard for during the four years of high school they finished.

The music started and the line moved to the door, one by one all the students came outside and sat in order, just like they practiced earlier in the day.

A speech was made by the Salutatorian before the Principal and the Vice Principal made their own.

A moment of silence was announced for the Military members present and who had passed then the Valedictorian made his speech.

More time passed before the Principal started to call the names of students.

As the last of the surnames that started with J’s were called up to the stage, Baylie buzzed with excitement and squeezed Raven’s hand, who in which returned it and did the same to Amanda.

“Baylie Ann Kazansky,” Mr. Simpson called and with one last squeeze, Bay started her walk to the stairs that attached to the stage.

Thinking quickly she jumped in the air on the last step and did a little heel click, a smile on her face after she stuck the landing.

She heard the shouts of her family as she shook her Principal and the Vice Principal’s hand as she held the diploma and the photographer took the picture.

At the end of the stairs stood a junior who handed her a red carnation with a silver ribbon tied in a bow around the stem.

She was just barely to her seat before her sister was called. “Raven Alice Kazansky-Fischer.” Mouse, as her nickname suggests, shyly took the stage and did the same as the many students before her.

Seeing her older sister cause chaos, just like her mother and aunt would’ve done, decided to also do something.

So, with a half-assed plan created, she slid down the bannister and almost fell on her face.

Amanda Kerner was known for being clumsy, often falling over her own feet, so why would today be any different.

“Amanda Louise Kerner.” She stood up and started to make her way to the stage, glancing up into the bleachers to find her family. Once she did, she gave a small smile and held her head up high.

When she was on the last step she missed and almost fell flat on her face, but at the last second saved herself.

Amanda started to laugh and her face heated up a little embarrassed about the whole thing as she walked up to the Principal and copy the hundreds before her.

After she had her carnation in hand, made her way back to her seat as the next student was announced.

The three girls scooted the chairs closer and held hands again, this time their achievements in the other as they all waited for the rest of the students to be called.

Ron and Jade both could see her body move with giggles and her face flushed a light pink as their daughter took the diploma.

Tom lightly smacked Ron’s shoulder as he laughed at his niece.

The Kerner parents have no idea where their daughter’s clumsiness comes from, both steady on land and in air, but they always had a good laugh about it.

Often making jokes and sharing the moments with Tom and Rachael.

Both couples did this with their children and the hilarious memories that would forever be remembered.

It only took seconds before the laughter turned into tears as they cheered or whistled for their children.

Proud was not the word that could describe this experience, because they all felt like that wasn’t the right one to use.

Both couples felt more than proud for their children, but didn’t know if there was a word to explain how much.

After the last student was called, another speech was made and then the Principal said the sentence that the girls and the couples were waiting for, “Please give a round of applause for the graduating class of 2017! You may move the tassel from the right to the left!”

One by one starting from the closest to the stage, all the lines of students started to exit and were free to find their families.

Ron, being the tall giraffe man that he is, spotted the girls first and guided the others to the recent graduates.

He didn’t wait for his daughter to see him, immediately pulling her into a bear hug and squeezing tighter when he feels her jump, a chuckle vibrates through his chest.

He knows that she realizes who it is after the chuckle, and turns around in his arms to hug him back.

Jade joins not too long afterwards, wanting the father and daughter to have a moment just for them.

Soon Ron lets go for the same reason as his wife, a special moment shared between a mother and a daughter.

More tears are shed as the embrace continues before Jade eventually brakes it, too choked up for words.

Ron stands in front of his little baby, tears gathering at his eyes as he looks at her in the Navy Dress Blues and sees a younger version of her mother.

He lightly punches her chin and whispers, “Here’s looking at you kid.” Amanda sniffles, tears threatening to fall again as she softly punches his chest, “Here’s looking at you dad.”

Ron pulls her into another hug, wanting this moment to freeze in time.

The Kazansky’s are too lost in their own little world to pay attention to the Kerner’s.

Baylie, the daddy’s girl she is, runs to Tom first. His callsign might be ‘Iceman’ but right now, his ice cold persona is gone for his beautiful daughters.

He pulls away slightly and kisses her forehead, “Come home to me, Bay.”

Baylie reaches up to her father’s forehead barely in her tippy-toes, gives him a soft head-butt and whispers back, “Always.”

He doesn’t stop the tears, nor would he want to. Both crying freely as they hug each other tight.

“You’re tarnishing the Iceman name, you know.” She chuckles.

“Right now Bay, I could care less about that, not while I have you in my arms.”

A short amount of time passes before Raven is in his arms.

“Keep me in your heart,” Tom murmurs into her hair.

“Keep me in your mind,” Raven replied into his chest as she squeezed him impossibly tight, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He doesn’t want to ever let go, so blessed to have a moment like this to share and remember as the years go by.

He never thought he’d get to experience his children’s birth, so he was beyond happy to see them graduate.

Rachael lays her cheek against Raven’s head as the two hug, tears falling from her eyes to the young woman’s hair.

Raven was in no better shape than her mother, tears running down her face as they hugged.

After a couple of minutes went by, seeing that Bay and Tom were finishing their little father-daughter moment, she reluctantly let go. “I’m beyond proud of you my little Mouse.” “I’m proud to be your daughter, biological or not.”

Rachael couldn’t hold the gates and started to cry again, but soon was hugged by her eldest. “You know that we’ll always be your little girls right?”

Rachael petted Bay’s hair, followed by a kiss, “I know, I know. It’s just hard to believe that our babies are so grown up.”

Bay didn’t respond, just squeezed her tighter. All the words needed exchanged between them through the embrace.

The memory etched into her minds eye forever.

Individual family moments over, the two families came together and celebrated the girls’ graduation with hugs and ‘I’m so proud of you’s.’

They all took turns taking pictures of each families before asking someone passing by to take a group.

With that done, they all hopped into their cars and headed over to Top Gun where their Aunts and Uncles were gathered and ready to see the Graduates.

When they arrived they were all bombarded with open arms, food and drinks, and ‘congratulations!’

The girls could tell by the warmth and smiles that these strong and brave men and women they’ve known their whole lives were just as proud as their parents.

The girls knew that their support system was always going to be there for every accomplishment they go through and couldn’t be more happy by that fact.

And as the years go by, more and more memories were created and photographed so they could all look back and relive the moments and the feelings they all shared.

Birdie’s Basket🧺: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list:

#birdsmasterlist #birdslibrary #callmemana #birds aus #agu: drabble #slider x whiskey #daughter baylie #iceman x dragon #ron slider kerner #daughter raven #daughter amanda #amanda kerner #baylie kazansky #raven kazansky #baylie lucky steele #raven mouse fischer #amanda birdie hallett #rachael dragon kazansky #jade whiskey kerner #tom iceman kazansky #all grown up: drabble #the chaos squad fics #the chaos squad

[deepinsideyourbeing]

Enzo Vogrincic:

- Movie Night

- Rum on a Fire

- He calls me the Devil

- Con toda devoción

Esteban Kukuriczka:

- Standing in the light of your halo

- Ray of Sun

Matías Recalt:

- Una condena agradable

- Con toda devoción

Drabbles & Blurbs:

#Letters to Agus

#Letters to Enzo

#Letters to Kuku

#Letters to Mati

#Letters to Pipe

#Letters to Simón

[oathofpromises]

You've grown so much since we first started writing, bringing all your characters to life and giving them a voice when otherwise they wouldn't.

You've really stepped out of your comfort zone and attempt characters you were probably afraid to write and muse, thinking you weren't good enough. Your portrayals are unique to you and only you and you're growing and getting better grasping their voice in your heart each and every time you write them.

I'm so proud of you, I cherish the threads and drabbles we've written over the years and I can't wait to see what else you bring to the table

All this can be said right back to you honey, you do such incredible job writing all of your muses and I am so happy you are writing ones that you were nervous to try at first. You've really stepped out of your comfort zone and are trying new characters that you've wanted to write for so long.

I know in the past some people tried to make you feel like you should only write for one character but you possess so much creativity in your mind and heart. I know how rough it was before we started writing on here. Which I am so glad we did make jump here and that you decided to go to multi. I know how restricting a single muse can sometimes be..how much that can wear you out.

I do want to remind you that it's okay to take your time on things. That you and your work are always worth it. Your happiness and well being come first and foremost. I know sometimes our minds will make us feel like we aren't writing a character correctly but all of your characters incredibly written. I will remind you of that every single day because it's so true. We have written together for years now, and built so much with our muses together. It was because of you that I started writing for my warrior of light..I was honestly nervous to write for her at first. I didn't know how it would go but writing with your Data and G'raha..those two mean the world to her.

I'm so proud of you darling, not just in writing but everything you do. I know lately things been exhausting and you know that I love you and am always here for you. You have so much to bring..my best friend. If you all aren't following Artemis please give them a follow because they honestly pour so much love into all their babies.

Your portrayals are unique to you and I don't do mains usually due to past things but I honestly see you as a main. Anytime, I see any replies from you I start to slowly work on those first because you put so much emotions into each piece you write. Your babies, I can hear them in anything you write for each of them. It never sounds forced or not something the character would say. You got them down so well and even before you met the Crystal Exarch you already had his personality in Shadowbringers down beautifully. You pay attention to their actions and really think about how they would react in different situations.

This is love and appreciation for you, so I am going to gush more. I legit don't know where I would be without you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You were there when I went through so much...never gave up on me. Always had my back and that means so much to me. I hope you know the same goes for me. That I will always love you and be here for you. No Matter what. Meeting you was honestly one of the greatest things to happen in my life. I mean that because I have never had anyone that has truly cared about me. Trying not to cry while I write this but, you are incredible person even if that's sometimes hard for you to see yourself. I hope one day I can show you just how special you are to me. That you are truly a luminous start in my sky.

We may've started with Kingdom Hearts but since that time have bonded so much over other fandoms we love too. Anytime I get to talk to you or spend any time hanging out with you is something I treasure because you truly mean so so so much to me.

Is breá liom tú thar am agus spás, a stór.

[I love you beyond time and space, darling.]

I tried be cute there with old gaelic and 14 doing the thing where it translated the pixie language like that. I hope you know that you truly are a treasure.

#​— ❛❛ // HEART OF A PRINCESS ¦ Answered Memes・ #I legit cried multiple times trying type all of this up..but this is soft hours for you

[grogusmum]

Seven Tears Part 4

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

W/C: 3300ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Pearl must face her past, though they have the support of her family, she and Ezra will be pushed toward a big change.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms, sexism, spouse abandonment,Though set in Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse and his family are white, a catholic confession and bs, fisticuffs, the f-bomb just once, you know Jamie deserves it, angst (but you know it’s me, so soft angst, mentions of food, throwing up, pregnancy (?) Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning. Excessive use of pet names.

(as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

NOTES: The events of Swept Away are mentioned, it's is an 800-word drabble, you may want to read if you haven't. 💚 thank you lovelies!

PART 1

PART 3

Gaeilge translation

mo bhuachaill my boy

leath choróin half-crown

Tapadh leat Tilda agus Fergus Thank you Tilda and Fergus

Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat May luck rise to you

A ghrá love

Ezra spends the late morning at the pub, on top of spending early mornings gutting fish at your family’s fish mongery. Fergus and Tilda are always happy to give Ezra odd jobs when they have them. When they run out of things for him to do, he walks down to the water to have a visit. 

Watching the crashing waves, the briney air filling his lungs, he thinks back to the wedding party, you dancing with your kin, legs kicking out and crossing, the jumps, the skips and turns, your arms linked with your cousins. Your eyes alight, smile broad. When you came to pull him in to join the dance, you were glowing and breathless, reminding him of when he brings you to your peak. Ezra becomes restless thinking about it, hoping you will be home soon. 

He wants to be like Fergus and Tilda, who get to work together. He told Tilda so, and she gave a hearty laugh, it is not all it is cracked up to be, mo bhuachaill (mu VOO-uh-{k}hill) she had told him as she patted his cheek. Fergus agreed with Ezra, telling him it was wonderful to be close at home while he did his day’s labor, then he looked upon Tilda, with 60 some year old eyes that held all the love of a newlywed. They paid in meat pies and a couple of half-crowns for the morning. 

Ezra makes his way to the house and put up one of the pies to warm in the oven for lunch. You arrive soon after, the brisk air following you through the door, ready for lunch. 

“My stomach is positively howling,” you tell him taking off your scarf, hat, and coat, then kicking off your boots. "What smells so delicious?"

"Well my pearl, luckily I have spent several of my morning hours, working at the pub in exchange for some savory pies, and two shiny leath choróin (leeth COR-on). Ezra pulls you into his warm arms. 

“It will be ready to eat as soon as I taste your delicious lips,” his mouth meets yours needily, sealing it to yours, and presses against you. You smile and return his affections, your hands in his hair. 

Then he gives a wet open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nuzzling with his nose and nipping at your collarbone and the crook of your neck, what you have come to understand is his way of greeting you. When you come up for air, you murmur, food with a laugh. Ezra laughs, going to the hob for the pie. You eat in companionable quiet, playing footsy under the table in your socked feet, as your hands and mouths are occupied and smile cheekily at each other.

After lunch, the pair of you head back to the strand and walk the length of it. The tide is out and seabirds are getting their own lunch. Chatting about your mornings, how your mother and father are doing, and your brothers, how Tilda and Fergus are fairing. There is no big news, just every day this and that and then you throw up your entire portion of the pie. Ezra's soft brown eyes become wide, his brows shooting up.

“A stòr! You are unwell, let me get you home.”

You already feel better, but you nod. Ezra gives you a temperature-testing kiss on your forehead and shakes his head. You shrug. But you both remember your fainting spell on your Da’s boat. And you count a calendar in your mind. He keeps his hands on you as you traverse the steep path, one hand holding yours and the other on your lower back. Once you are on level ground he pulls you to his side. While all of this is not too unusual, there is a feeling that he is treating you as though suddenly made of porcelain. 

When you arrive at your little home, which no longer shows signs of neglect. The front door has a wreath on it, the window boxes are empty due to the time of year, but no longer have dead plants hanging out of them, and the other debris that Ezra noticed upon his arrival, is cleaned up. A testament to your renewed happiness. You put key to lock but the door swings open before you turn the key. All thoughts of your health gone.

Ezra immediately puts you behind him as he enters, puffing up. He calls to the house at large. Jamie comes around the corner, and you instantly see red. You push passed Ezra ready to give him a piece of your mind. How dare he come into your home like this, uninvited, while you are not at home, after his behavior at the wedding and the tavern. You storm up to him and then out of the bedroom comes Colin, a dark bundle of sleek fur gripped tight in his hand, and you are brought up short, looking like you have just seen a ghost.

Ezra, on the other hand, is not thrown. Colin has his pelt, so he moves quickly, flaring his nostrils, his head down, and eyes up, menacing. He makes a sound you have never heard from him before. Animalistic and threatening. He would have Colin on the ground in a trice, but Jamie is on him. You shout. Ezra manages to wrestle Colin to the floor. But Jamie has something in his hand. You see it flash, a knife, you go to grab his arm, and Jamie shakes you off. Ezra, seeing this out of his periphery, turns to help you, his boot on Colin's throat. Jamie shoves you, and you are down on the floor. Ezra becomes truly feral now, eyes black, he bellows. Going for Jamie, no longer caring about the pelt, only you. He defies myth again. Jamie's knife hand goes up, and the knife catches Ezra's cheek. 

“Stop!” You shout with all the air in your lungs from the floor. The men mercifully seem taken aback and do just that. You pull a handkerchief from your coat, kneeling beside Ezra, you press it to his cheek, “I am so sorry, my love.” 

You stand and Ezra gets up, holding the now dark red scrap of material.

“How dare you, James Michael Kelly!! Get the fuck out of my house! NOW!” Jamie turns tail and leaves. “AND YOU!” you turn your full attention to Colin and stalk toward him, and he has the good sense to look ashamed, at least for now.

“How dare you? Come back here like you’ve caught me in wrongdoing?! Where have you been, Colin Patrick Kelly? You leave me for months and months, doing what? Heaven knows! And, and then you come here, now? To what? For what? I have found another.”

This is what the toe-headed man needs to shove aside his shame.

“You didn’t find another,” he spits, and shakes the pelt at you, taunting You flinch, then Colin looks you up and down disgusted. “You summoned a selkie!” 

Your eyes fill with angry tears, and you hate yourself for it. But  Ezra will not have it, he takes you in his arms, dark eyes on Colin’s light ones his head tipped back.

“There only one here who should be rueful and repentant. And I am looking at him. You deserted your wife, left her like a coward. Left her in a way she could not move forward. You should be standing before her, all sackcloth and ashes. You caused her to call on a selkie. And oh yes I came,” Ezra turns from Colin to look at you. He wants there to be no mistake. “I came because I already loved her and will love her better than you ever would or could.” He makes show of kissing you, holding your cheek in his free hand, then turns back to Colin pointing at his pelt, “Now drop that and go, tis not your property.”

His eyes take on a dangerous glint-

“Trust me when I say, you would not care to have me take it from you.”

Colin seems to be sizing Ezra up, then looks at you, his face a mask. 

“She is still my wife, and this is my house,” he says finally. 

“You can not be serious, Colin. You want to come back to me?” 

“Not so much as I do not want some other ‘man’ having what is mine.” 

It is here, that Ezra punches him hard across the face, and Colin goes down hard. Ezra picks up his pelt and takes you from the cottage, headed, he is not sure where. You do not speak, walking in a daze, but you do have a destination. Your parents' house. 

You let yourself and Ezra in, and your mother sees the stricken look on your face, and though completely forgotten by Ezra, his bloody cheek. She hollers for your father and pulls Ezra into their large kitchen to look at his wound. You follow feeling a little lost. You sit on the stool you used to watch your mother cook from, and the warm light of the kitchen and familiar smell soothes you slightly. 

But it is not to last for as soon as your father enters and your parents look to you to explain, you burst into tears again. You try to get through the story, but Ezra mercifully takes over, and when he is done your parents are livid. Your Da takes off almost immediately, not before giving your forehead a kiss and patting Ezra's shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze. After settling you both to rest with hot toddies, your Mam tells you to remain at the house and leaves as well. 

Patrick is in a state as he marches to your home. Seeing Ezra's face bloodied, you hardly able to speak for wailing in fear, confusion, and despair in his head. He knows in the eyes of the church and by the letter of the law, you have nary a leg to stand on. You are still married, and the house is legally Colin's, not that he contributed more to it than you or your family but the deed is in his name because that is what is done. A woman like you needs to count on decency of family, friends, and neighbors to use their heads and hearts to not condemn her. He has been proud to say that other than the likes of Jamie and a very few, Patrick’s village has not let him down, not let you down. But that is all going to change now that Colin was back, not with everyone but with many. Enough to make things difficult.

Lost in the argument running inside his mind, Patrick comes upon your red door suddenly. Seeing a light through the mullioned window, he hammers on the door. It swings open and Colin has the good sense to not look surprised. 

“Da- Partick.” Colin corrects.

“Go one further, you can call me Mister Brennan.”

Colin again shows some common sense, and nods somewhat sheepishly. Patrick scrutinizes him.

“Why sir, could you not show this deference to my daughter I wonder,” Patrick muses. “What is your plan? Do you really intend to get back in her good graces? Do not answer that.”

“Jamie contacted me and told me she is-  she’s shacking with a selkie man. In my house no less!” 

“And would you care about the integrity of your house so much, if she were haunting it on her own? Mourning her ‘lost husband’. Would you have run home then? Do not answer that. I am here to tell you to remove nothing from this home. Better yet, stay at your dear brother's place. While this gets sorted. Got me? This, you can answer.” 

“Yes. I got you.” 

Deirdre marches to the stone church in the heart of the village. Murmuring, as she prays on each bead of her rosary. She enters the building, crosses herself with her deft fingers after they dip in the ornate vessel of holy water, and then makes her way to the dais. The smell of frankincense and myrrh comforts her, on bended knee, she crosses herself again before the altar and goes to the confessional. The door slides open the instant she seats herself.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession."

'"May almighty God have mercy on you, and having forgiven your sins, lead you to eternal life. Amen," Father Liam O’Brian intones.

Deirdre confesses her venal sins and does her act of contrition, is given her penance, and is absolved of her sins. But Deirdre lingers, and the priest sits with her, patiently.

“What is weighing on your heart, Dierdre?” He asks after several moments stretch.

“Colin has returned, Father.” It is a whisper as if so large a sin for even the confessional.

“Holy Ma- Colin Kelly?”

“The same.”

“Let us walk, Deirdre,” he says, and stepping out of the confessional, Deirdre follows. Father OBrian guides her out into the garden behind the church next to the rectory. She tells him the story, right up to dressing Ezra’s cheek, and the vicar listens. Nodding in places where he is familiar with the story, when Colin disappeared, remembering counseling you in those first weeks, the wedding of your cousin Courtney, as he was the officiant, recollecting you introducing Ezra shyly, yes, you only identified him as a friend to the priest, but you knew, he knew Ezra was more.

“What recourse do we have?”

“In the sight of God, your daughter is married to Colin Kelly,” the priest says solemnly.

“He deserted her, for all most a year, doing who knows what, and only returned for what he sees as his property. And that includes my daughter.” bristles Deirdre.  

“What he was doing is between him and God, he must seek forgiveness of course.”

“What about her? What about her and Ezra?”

“I needn’t remind you that she has been living in sin for some time, and we have all turned a blind eye, passing no judgment upon her. She was suffering, we all knew it and felt for the girl but her husband is claiming his right to her," Father O’Brian clears his throat uncomfortably, “E-Ezra must go back to where he came from, and she needs to repent her sins, then weave and cleave to her husband. I am happy to council her-”

“Father Liam!”

“Did you expect a different answer, my child?”

“Do not. I knew you in short pants!” 

Deirdre only feels the slightest pang of guilt, she must make up for it, but for now, she storms toward home. She kicks herself. She should not have expected a different answer… the rosary moves in her hand, and she looks to the Mother Mary. You want something from the son, you talk to the mother, she reminds herself.

Ezra cradles you on the large sofa in the parlor of your parents' home. You both discuss what they are possibly up to. You have a good idea, you roll your eyes as you tell him your mam is most definitely praying, and da… well, good luck Colin. You check on his cheek, it was going to scar, perhaps not too badly but-

“We have been fully derailed, moonbeam, we went back to the house because you were not feeling well.”

“True, my stomach hurts, but I don think it is for any reason except for Colin turning our lives upside down and shaking it like a blasted snow globe.”

“Is that really all it is? I think we have a real problem, A ghrá (uh GRAWH).”

“What do you mean? I mean I know, but-” You look over at the seal skin, panic rising. “Please, Ezra, my love- “

Ezra knows at once what you are thinking, he holds your face in his hands, he tells you something in the old language, and his eyes and voice are soothing as always. You are proud that you know what he is saying most times when he reverts to it, but this time it is more Irish than you have, you tell him you do not understand. He kisses you in response, putting his forehead to yours.

“I said, ‘do not be afraid my love, and always remember, if you want me, I will not go anywhere without you.’”

“But-” you begin, but Ezra kisses your forehead.

 “I will take care of it, though I fear it will more change than I planned. I cannot help but wonder if you will be willing.” 

“What do you mean more change than you planned? I will go with you, Ezra. Anywhere.”

Ezra’s eyes flash, perhaps a little greedily, then he kisses you hard and wanting.  

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Pearl. I must speak with someone first.”

He plans to wait until one of your parents returns. It is your father, he had met up with your mother and she explained where she had gone and what happened. And that she is on her way to speak with your eldest sister Felicia, instructing her to talk with the boys about the situation. The family is to come together for dinner tonight. Your Da is not sure you will be up to such a thing, but Dierdre is firm in her belief that the family must surround and protect you. 

You have dozed off on the couch, so Ezra carefully extracts himself from under you and murmurs to Patrick that he has an errand to run. 

“Will you be back for supper?”

“I would not dare miss Deirdre’s sumptuous cooking, perish the thought,” Ezra says a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

Ezra makes his way to Fergus and Tilda’s, they can see his distress the moment they put their eyes on him. Tilda brings him before the fire to warm him. 

“Tell me mo bhuachaill what has happened,” her dark eyes leveling his, a reassuring hand on his knee, she gives it a squeeze.

“Her husband has returned, he wants to stake his claim,” Ezra looks disgusted, and then anguished. “I reckon she is with child. Mine, of course.”

Tilda puffs her cheeks and then lets the air out in a burst through her nostrils but stays silent. 

“You reckon, how?”

“I can tell she has skipped a moon cycle... she's had a fainting spell, and then today she threw up. I am not sure, but-”

“Have you spoken with her?”

“I was going to, and then-”

“The husband”, Tilda finished.

“The husband.”

“You know the archipelago off Port Noo?”

“Of course”

“My kin built some cottages on Rón Inis (Roan Inish), they are still there. I imagine they need some attention… but they were built good and sturdy. The other option is well-”

Fergus comes up behind Ezra and hands him a slip of paper with instructions to get to the Island.

“Thank ye, Fergus.” Ezra folds the paper and pockets it. “The other option, well, Pearl will have to want that so deeply in her heart for it to be- and it cannot happen until after the child comes.” 

“When will you leave?” Fergus asks.

“As soon as possible, I suppose.” 

“when its time, let us pack some food for you, some salted meats- there are no iceboxes there.”

Ezra looks at them with gratitude, that he seems unable to express. 

“Cat got your tongue, young man? Ha, a first!” Tilda teases good-naturedly.

“I will miss you.”

“Us too Ezra. Son,” Fergus says as Ezra stands. They hug, and Fergus claps his shoulder. "This is not goodbye, but so long.”

Ezra hugs Tilda, holding tight. She puts her hand on the back of his head, and he lowers his head into her shoulder. 

“I have to get back to her.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Tapadh leat (tapah lat) Tilda agus Fergus.”

“Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat (Guh n’ayr’ee an tah leath),” Tilda said lovingly.

to be continued...

Part 5

Gaelic translation:

mo bhuachaill my boy

leath choróin half-crown

Tapadh leat Tilda agus Fergus Thank you Tilda and Fergus

Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat May luck rise to you

Rón Inis Island of Seals

A ghrá love

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💚

You can find more of my writing here MASTERLIST and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra prospect #selkie!ezra #ezra selkie au #selkie #ezra (prospect) x you #selkie!ezra x f!reader #selkie fic #selkie au

[adropofgoldenrachelx]

No Show - A Thread: Part One

Summary: Rachel has been a no show for a while and Toulouse shows up at her door to find out what’s going down. She tells him her story, and why she’s been hauled up inside for a week. It’s kinda sad but also it’s cute and we’re not sorry. Reply order: Rachel, Toulouse (blockquotes).

Featuring: Rachel and @beaumont-ague , Mom (Arianna) and Dad (Fredrick). Also guest appearance from Dad’s Moustache.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks, flashbacks, references to past trauma as with the drabble.

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It wasn’t like Rachel to choose not to go to her classes. She hadn’t missed a single day (except for three days where she was overcome with an unfortunate flu and forced to stay in her bed) since enrollment, and by every intention she wouldn’t miss another. College had been a grand milestone in her life, after finding her freedom and spending her first two years in an intense schooling program to bring her up to the standard (or as close to) of her peers. It hadn’t been easy, given what they were working with, but she worked her butt off and was finally allowed to enrol in Redwood College when she received her high school diploma. Rachel loved learning, so much so that, after finding enough courage, she would sneak into the back of lecture halls she wasn’t enrolled for just so she could learn as much as humanly possible.

So, for Rachel to be missing from class for a day, two days, a week was strange.

She hadn’t told anyone she wouldn’t be there. It hadn’t been planned, but she had lost so much sleep lately that she slept in for her morning lecture, and then couldn’t face showing up late in the afternoon. It spiralled from there, and now here she was, cooped up in her bedroom a week later wishing she wasn’t. Artist Block she would say, all the while painting away at the mural on her bedroom wall.

It was Rachel’s father, Frederick, who answered the door. He was an imposing figure, moustached for the gods and flaunting a raised brow at the young man who had knocked looking for his daughter.

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse didn’t really pay attention to who he saw and who he didn’t see around campus on a daily basis. Actually, he never really paid all that much attention to anything on campus, let alone people. He was always in his own world, rushing to classes or trying to get inspiration for a new piece. However, one person that he knew for sure he hadn’t seen in a few days was Rachel. At first, it hadn’t dawned on him that he didn’t see her for a few days. What gave it away, was the fact that he’d delivered his latest gift to her for their gift exchange, he hadn’t received one back. Even if they’d only known each other a short period of time, it just didn’t seem to be in character for her to up and quit. At least not without an explanation.

Of course, that wasn’t why he was worried or upset. He didn’t mind that she hadn’t given him a gift. In fact, he did feel slightly guilty for enjoying that he was currently winning. The lack of gifts in their exchange had simply alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t seen her recently, prompting him to ask around. Rachel was fairly popular. Of course she was, he thought to himself as he’d gotten plenty of answers when asking for her around campus. Toulouse had managed to get her address, and fortunately someone was nice enough to tip him off that her parents could be sort of… strict. How strict, he hadn’t known, but he thought it better to make a decent impression than show up in his sweatshirt and joggers that he’d been wearing to class. Substituting them for a polo with some slacks and loafers was a much better choice. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t take pride in his appearance, he really did. But, it was to be expected of a college kid to just want to get through class, and really, he didn’t have that many people to impress. Throwing on a watch and trying to comb his unruly mess of hair before leaving, Toulouse made sure to bring his phone and one of his rings, which he often used as a fidget toy. He didn’t suspect he’d need it, but it wouldn’t hurt to have it along. When he’d arrived at Rachel’s address -at least, he hoped it was the correct address- he was met by a rather tall man with an even more intimidating mustache. This was where his proper etiquette would come in handy. 

“Hi Sir,” he greeted the man politely with confidence. “My name is Toulouse Beaumont, I go to school with your daughter. Some of us were worried when we realized we hadn’t seen her around the campus in a few days, and were hoping to see that she was alright. I also had some assignments to drop off for her, if that’s alright?” Holding out a small stack of papers, only the top was a legitimate assignment. The rest were ones he’d made up, copying previous lesson plans he’d seen or received. Of course, no one else would know that without a very close inspection. “One we’re supposed to work on together, actually,” he added quickly after, to strengthen the chance he might get to actually see Rachel. Her father could very easily just take the papers and ask him to leave, which he had prepared for, though he was optimistic. 

—————————————————————————————————

Frederick could hardly help himself from vetting everyone that came within a ten mile radius of Rachel and their home, and had no intention of being any less intimidating when Toulouse introduced himself politely, or explained the reason for his visit. “Rachel is doing perfectly fine,” he answered, offering no further explanation to her current plight. It was none of this young man’s business, after all. “I’ll pass the a--” Frederick was soon interrupted.

Rachel’s mom had been in the sitting room reading, but emerged behind her husband shortly after Toulouse introduced himself. Arianna was a touch more savvy than her husband (though not any less protective) and knew that it was important for Rachel to still see her friends. She recognised his name after Rachel had come home from the festival gushing about paper flowers and cupcakes. Arianna didn’t have to say much to Frederick -a cough and a lifted brow was enough- before he stepped out of the doorframe begrudgingly.

“Rachel’s in her room,” Arianna offered, gesturing to the foot of the stairs. It was important to her that Rachel was treated like everyone else, and if that meant letting her friends in to see her, then so be it. The young man didn’t seem like he would hurt a fly anyway and Arianna was sure her daughter wouldn’t want to miss out on too much work. “You can head up, but knock on her door first. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll pass the assignment on for you.”

Rachel was still occupied by her painting, huddled under a quilt on the floor like she was turning into a human tent. She wasn’t sure how long she had been trying to mix this very specific shade of coral, but she had every intention of keeping at it, humming and singing and mumbling to herself to pass the time and fill the silence.

Had she any inkling that Toulouse might appear, she would have made herself look slightly more presentable, maybe even tidying up her paints and forty other hobbies and projects she had been occupying her hands (and her mind with) over the week.

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse was never that great at talking to older men, and he knew the exact reason why, but he didn’t feel the need to disclose that at the moment. Fathers and father figures just weren’t a comfortable subject for him. Mothers, on the other hand, were different. He knew how to win over the heart of a mother figure. If it weren’t for Rachel’s mother sitting in the other room, he was sure that he would have to go back to his dorm and try to figure out a different way to speak to Rachel. Thank god for that, as she quickly stepped in to allow him into their home. 

With a grateful smile, Toulouse gave her a wave. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I promise I won’t overstay my welcome.” If Rachel didn’t want company, he’d leave willingly. Still, it didn’t hurt to try, right? He mainly was just glad to hear that she was alright. Toulouse hadn’t completely lied when he said there was something that the both of them were meant to work on. It just wasn’t an official assignment. Rather, something to cheer her up. That was of course, permitted that she wanted to be seen. 

Taking the stairs up to the second floor, Toulouse took a guess at where Rachel’s room would be, and was just about to knock when he heard soft humming on the other side. Definitely her room, then, he thought to himself. His hand had been raised, ready to knock, though it slowly lowered as he listened to her sing more. She sounded nice, better than most people who casually sang to themselves. It may have been a selfish move, but rather than announce his presence, he stayed for a moment and just enjoyed her singing, eventually joining in subconsciously as he leaned up against the wall. 

—————————————————————————————————

Arianna offered Toulouse a sweet smile, all the while side-eyeing her husband who had puffed up his chest and was acting a little miffed. She would have a gentle word with him later, but for now they would leave Toulouse to it. Rachel’s room wasn’t terribly hard to locate, as she had started painting her door with some pretty flowers (fully intending on moving on to every door in the house when she had the time for it). 

Rachel continued to sing, none the wiser to the listening ear at her door. She liked to sing, finding it a pleasant way to fill silence. She sang in the studio sometimes, and she sang in the shower, and when she was making breakfast. It was a comfortable past-time. Of course, she didn’t always have an audience (a visible one anyway) and so the faint voice from the hallway, matching her song, caught her off guard. Dad didn’t sing (and the voice wasn’t deep enough to be Dad’s if he did). After a short continuation, to make sure she wasn’t going completely loopy and making up harmonies in her head, Rachel’s singing fizzled out.

There was a brief panic that her parents had left the house, and someone had broken into her house. (That had happened before, it wasn’t a wild conclusion to draw.) With her quilt still draped over her shoulders, Rachel grabbed the first thing at hand (thankfully not a frying pan) and crept toward her bedroom door, opening it just enough that she could see who was standing on the other side and close it swiftly if she had to.

It was a surprise (a pleasant one) to find Toulouse leaning on the wall outside her room, a stack of papers in hand (and an equally pleasant look on his face.)

Oh no. Oh no, the room is a mess! My hair is a mess! I’m holding a weapon! He’s gonna think I’m a weirdo!!!

There was no time to fix anything, so all she could do was stare dumbfounded from behind her door frame. “Hi…” Rachel managed, throwing on the closest thing she could find to a cheery smile. Should she bring up the singing thing? It was kinda cute… No, no that would be peak weirdo, he obviously didn’t know she could hear him, right..? She went for the safe option. Or rather, the obvious question that anyone who wasn’t totally freaking out right now would ask. “Uh… Come here often?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right one. 

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse wasn’t sure how long he would wait before knocking on the door. He was preoccupied listening to her sing, which was probably weird, in hindsight, but he’d deal with those consequences later. Sure enough, later came quickly, and Rachel was opening the door faster than Toulouse expected her too. Maybe he was singing a bit louder than he thought, since it seemed a little too coincidental that she would be leaving her room at that moment. 

He made no comments about her appearance, or the fact that she was only looking at him through a crack in her bedroom door. “No, actually. Not yet, at least,” Toulouse responded to her question with a chuckle. “Actually, I’m sort of surprised I made it this far. Remind me to thank your mom later.” Clearly Rachel wasn’t expecting company, and he could understand why. Anyone who knocked on the door would have likely been greeted by Mr. Moustachio, potentially with a scripted list of questions before being turned away. He wasn’t rude, just... stern, from the impression Toulouse gathered. 

It was at that moment that his eyes lowered a bit to an object that Rachel was holding in her hand. Pointing to it hesitantly, Toulouse furrowed his brows before asking, “Is that… is that a lamp?” The amount of effort it took for him to keep a straight face was almost painstaking, a smile creeping onto his face as he tried not to laugh. He sort of understood, afterall, given that he’d just been standing outside her room with no warning. “Maybe we ought to plug that in, yeah? It’d be a bit hard to read these in the dark.” He gestured to the papers in his hand. 

Mentioning the assignments was mainly so that in case her father was listening to their conversation downstairs, his story would ring true. While he didn’t want to invite himself into Rachel’s room, as that was sort of a private matter, the suggestion of plugging in the lamp and going over the papers implied that it might be easier to do so somewhere other than the hallway. 

—————————————————————————————————

Rachel was kicking herself for her awkwardness, though Toulouse seemed to take her stupid question in his stride. It had hardly occurred to her that Toulouse would have knocked the front door, and that Dad would have answered it. He meant well, Rachel knew, but she wished he was less stubborn sometimes. “Oh, you made it past Dad,” she laughed apologetically. “Sorry about him, he’s kind of… He means well.”

Rachel grimaced, glancing down at the lamp in hand. What on earth was she thinking? That a lamp could save her butt? She floundered for a reasonable explanation as to why she brought a lamp with her to greet a guest at the door. “... Yes… Yes, this is a lamp. I was just-- It needed… dusting...” Yeah, that could work. She was going to dust it! The reality was Rachel was jumpy, but there was no chance she was going to explain that right now.

Wildly embarrassed at sporting the lamp, but deciding hiding behind the door was only making it worse, Rachel opened the door just enough to invite Toulouse in, still hiding behind the door itself. Now that she knew she wouldn’t have to use the lamp on him, it seemed silly to leave him standing out in the hallway. “Sorry,” Rachel laughed quietly. “Uh, you can come in just-- Ignore the mess?”

By Rachel standards, the room was a bombsite but it wasn’t nearly as messy as she thought it was. Everything had a place, and she tidied every morning when she woke up to make sure nothing was amiss. There were paints and a few sketchbooks dotted around the floor that she had been using, and a half eaten plate of cookies on her dresser as well as a few odds and ends not in their proper home. (Notably, the paper flowers Toulouse had given her at the Hootenanny had a special place on the centre of her bookcase, inside a tiny vase, and the other gifts from their competition were set out neatly on her desk by the window.) By any other standards, her room was perfectly fine but she scurried to place the lamp back where it belonged and then set about moving a few things to make the place seem more presentable.

—————————————————————————————————

This was probably the first time that Toulouse got to see Rachel’s awkward side. It was a nice change of pace, really, though he wouldn’t dare say that out loud. No, he would keep that to himself for his own enjoyment. “I can tell. It’s alright, seriously. I’d probably be a little weary too about some strange kid showing up at my doorstep.” Giving a shrug, he looked back at her with a playful grin. 

Did he believe the lie? Of course not. Did he pretend to? Yes, yes he did. “Makes sense. I usually forget to dust my lamps, but you know, too much dust could be a fire hazard. Good on you for being proactive.” Toulouse was grateful for the invitation inside, slipping past the door. Truthfully, he was pretty curious to see what her room was like. Toulouse always thought that a person’s bedroom was another outward expression of themselves, and to be invited into one was a rather intimate matter in a different way than most people would associate it. He liked his space, and only if he fully trusted someone would he ever let them into his room back home. At school, it was slightly different, but still, he liked to control who was and was not allowed to see certain things.

Immediately, he started to look around, not at the so-called mess that Rachel tried to get him to ignore, but all of the things that made this Rachel’s room. Besides, it was hardly messy at all. He noticed the paper flowers that he had gotten her, which made him smile, perhaps even more than seeing all of their little knick knacks from their gift exchange going on. Then, he noticed that Rachel was fussing about, trying to clean and organize what she likely saw as the mess she’d left behind, not thinking anyone would be over. “You don’t have to do all of that. Trust me, my room is five times messier than this when I’m home for longer than the weekend. I’ve seen far worse,” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood before bringing up the serious topic. “Sorry I didn’t say anything before showing up. But, since you never returned the gift I gave you last time, I just had to come find out your excuse.” 

His words were light, and playful, and much better at bringing up the subject of Rachel’s absence than flat out asking her why she hadn’t been at school recently. It must have been a good reason, considering it wasn’t like her to skip, from what he knew about her, and the fact that she looked hesitant and possibly even scared to open her door. 

—————————————————————————————————

It seemed her Father was weary of anyone that showed up at the door looking for Rachel, whether they were rough and tumble or not, but she couldn’t blame him for it, given circumstances. Of course, Toulouse didn’t know the circumstances. Maybe if none of this had happened Toulouse could have waltzed right in. “I did tell him about you, a little, but there’s not much convincing him everyone is fine.”

She glanced at the lamp, giving it a quick dust (partly to prove the lie, mostly because Toulouse was totally right and she didn’t want the curtains catching fire.) “Yeah, it’s always the last thing to get cleaned, I guess.“ Despite the insistence that she didn’t have to tidy up, Rachel continued to do so anyway, putting things back where they were supposed to be, with the exception of the paints that she intended on using to work on her mural after Toulouse left again. If anything, it was nerves. Something to keep herself occupied with that didn’t involve any anxious tugging at her hair (her tell). Usually she was better practiced in hiding all of her messy feelings, except for those who knew her, but she wasn’t having much luck today. “At least let me clear you a seat,” Rachel insisted, lifting a few cushions to give them a good fluff before she plopped them down at the bottom of her bed. She didn’t have guests over very often, and her desk chair wasn’t the most comfortable. Cass always sat on her bed when she visited, so it didn’t seem strange to think Toulouse could do the same.

Rachel gasped with the realisation that, in cooping herself up, she had forgotten all about Toulouse’s gift. So much so that she hadn’t even thought about making it yet. Immediately, she jumped to the conclusion that he must think she was a terrible friend for not keeping the exchange going and then saying nothing to him all week. That was textbook bad friend, right? “Oh no! I-- Sorry! I forgot all about it and I haven’t made it yet but I promise I’ll return it by, like, Tuesday.”

(Toulouse, well-intentioned though he was, had picked a bad week to visit.)

“It’s just that it’s been kind of a weird week and I got… artist’s block and stuff and it went totally out of my head.”

—————————————————————————————————

It came as a bit of a shock to hear Rachel admit that she told her parents about him. Surely that was normal though, wasn’t it? To talk about your friends to your parents? Toulouse never really understood those parents who had known their children's friends for years and yet still couldn’t be bothered to remember their names. He hoped that if he were ever to become one that he wouldn’t be one of those. “Maybe he’ll warm up in time,” the blond shrugged. Not that Toulouse was planning on coming over every day, as that was a bit excessive to think about now, but still he’d hoped to spend more time with Rachel in the future, thus meaning eventually they’d probably come round each other’s homes more often. His mother would definitely be more than willing to have her over. 

Something was definitely wrong. Over the years, Toulouse had been able to pick up on habits that people tended to develop under stress or trauma, and this was giving him flashbacks. Clearly Rachel was bothered by something, and though he wanted to be there to listen to it, he also didn’t want to force her to talk about something she didn’t want to. Clearing them spaces to sit was fair enough, so he didn’t object. Before sitting down, Toulouse took his shoes off so as to not get anything dirty. 

Unfortunately for Toulouse, Rachel must have been too focused in her manic cleaning spree and overthinking that she didn’t understand he’d meant to go about it in a light hearted way. That wasn’t what he cared about, really, but he wanted Rachel to open up on her own terms. “Hey, hey, it’s fine, Rachel, really.” Anything he said however was going in one ear and out the other as Rachel continued to ramble. Finally, Toulouse just reached forward and grabbed her hands, squeezing them to get her attention. “It’s fine. I’m not worried about the gift, or how long it takes, really. Don’t fuss over it. I’ll survive another week, I’m sure,” he smiled softly, shaking his head to reassure her that he didn’t need it right there and then. 

Letting her hands go, Toulouse put them by his sides as he scooted further back onto the bed. “Everyone gets artists’ block now and then, no need to stress about it. I just meant that you haven’t been around, recently. Is everything ok?”

—————————————————————————————————

"I hope so," Rachel replied casually, truly hoping her Dad would relax a little more around any of her friends. He seemed to like Cass well enough, but Rachel guessed that was mostly because of her job. She didn't invite many other friends over, but that was mostly because she preferred spending as little time indoors as she could. Still, it would have been nice if Dad's moustache didn't turn upside down whenever he was greeted with a new guest.

Rachel was trying very hard to remain as chill as possible, and keep the freaking out to a bare minimum. Usually she was better at hiding her worry than this, or she thought so at least (but there was a lot to unpack with that, which was another thing Rachel didn't need to completely spiral over). Her smile was still genuine, thankful for the company that Toulouse offered, but it didn't quite hit her eyes in the usual sunny way. 

It felt a little like she was walking in circles, moving things here and there that didn't need to be moved and she would have kept at it had Toulouse not taken her hands, catching her off guard and stopping her in her tracks. Rachel had jumped to so many conclusions in a minute that now she felt all kinds of silly for worrying over nothing. The squeeze of their hands was just enough to halt that worry. "Are you sure..?" Rachel asked quietly, just to be totally one hundred percent sure that he wasn't actually upset about the gift thing.

It was an instinct to twist the ends of a lock of hair when he let go, rapping it absently around her fingers as she sighed onto the free space on the bed. She didn't think anyone would notice her absence enough to wonder where she was, let alone come to check up on her. Rachel hesitated too long to reasonably answer yes to Toulouse's concern. Artist block wouldn't cut it. Would a proper explanation do any better though? Rachel wasn't sure what she could even say without the risk of Toulouse freaking out too.

"I've been worse?" Rachel admitted finally, a grimace masked by a bashful laugh. "It's… hard to explain. I didn't think anyone would notice I was gone, I'll be honest. I just… I mean, I wanted to go to class but I just couldn't, I guess. I don't know." 

—————————————————————————————————

As someone who was used to having his own difficulties with anxiety, Toulouse understood that Rachel was probably just acting on those impulses, which was why he didn’t try harder to stop her from running about and cleaning. Sometimes you just had to get it out of your system, and he understood that. Control what you could, and confront what you couldn’t. Only, it was the confronting part that he was worried about for her. Had she even taken the time to sit down and process why she had been missing classes? He didn’t know the reason himself, but he hoped that she did, and would understand why that was.

Grateful that catching her hands seemed to calm her down at least a little bit, he nodded casually with a smile. “Absolutely. Besides, you know you never even had to get me one in the first place. I haven’t been expecting any of the ones you’ve given so far. Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d give up one day, ‘cause that’d mean that I won,” he teased, laughing as she sat down on the bed.

Anything was hard to explain when it came with emotional baggage. Toulouse was sure that he could handle it, though, after years of practice. “Try me. I bet you I’ve heard stranger stories.” When she mentioned not assuming anyone would notice she was gone, however, Toulouse took that a bit personally. He didn’t show it of course, but the personal offence was only because he really didn’t think Rachel was being as kind to herself as she could be. “How could someone not? I mean, you’re probably one of the most outgoing people who go to that school. It’d be stupid for no one to notice.”

Laying down on his side, Toulouse propped himself up onto his elbow, his gaze softening as he looked to her to continue speaking. He wanted to know as much as she would tell him, but didn’t push too far. “That’s understandable, I mean sometimes we all need a break to deal with emotional things. Do you think talking about it might help? I’m a great listener, if I do say so myself,” he humbly bragged, trying to get her to smile. 

“Or, if you’d prefer, I can ask you questions completely unrelated to any of that, and try to take your mind off of it? I have the perfect one to start,” Toulouse assured. “For example…” His facial expression suddenly got quite serious, leaning in slightly toward her as if to tell her some sort of precious secret. “How long did it take your dad to grow that moustache?” He couldn’t even keep a straight face as he nearly burst into laughter, shaking his head. “But really, I have to know! It’s quite impressive.”

—————————————————————————————————

Glad that Toulouse wasn’t fussed about the gift, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. It was one less thing to worry about. That being said, there was no way she was not going to give him a gift at some point just because she was feeling down. It was a competition, after all. Rachel wasn’t a quitter. “Sorry, you haven’t won yet. This is just a momentary interlude.”

“Trust me, you really haven’t…” Rachel insisted through an awkward laugh, running her fingers through her hair. She would be willing to put a bet on it, actually. If it wasn’t her own story, she would have thought the whole kidnapped as a baby, raised by a fake ‘Mother’ in isolation for nineteen years, then rescued by some dude who eventually abandoned you and became your art teacher four years later all while coming out relatively unscathed thing was totally made up. Truthfully, it had been suggested to Rachel that she didn’t bring it up as flippantly as she had done when she was first introduced to the outside world and now she wasn’t really sure if she should bring it up ever. She said nothing to the fact that people might actually notice if she was gone, shrugging it off to avoid arguing another case against herself.

“I’m not sure if I should,” Rachel admitted meekly. It might not do any harm, or it could tarnish Flynn’s newfound reputation. Rachel held her breath when Toulouse leaned in like he was about to tell her a secret, and snorted a laugh when his question came. It was a totally unexpected one. “He does have a very impressive moustache, doesn’t he?” Rachel nodded, relaxing just enough to keep laughing. “He’s had it as long as I’ve known him. I think he even had the moustache on his wedding day.”

A distraction would have been welcome, but it also could have been part of the problem. Everything previously scattered around her room had been a distraction, as was the current patch of wet paint on the wall, and the five batches of cookies she had baked for everyone at the precinct, and everything else she had done until she couldn’t take it any longer. Rachel desperately wanted the distraction Toulouse was bringing in making her laugh -Cass would have insisted she face the problem head on instead- but if Toulouse had any intention of sticking around, it made sense that he would have to know what was going on.

Rachel hesitated for a moment, looking rather serious as she looked for any sign that Toulouse would nope on out of the conversation the moment he realised just how much baggage she was about to unload on him. He seemed trustworthy enough, but that kind of thinking had gotten her burned before. “Can I trust you?” she asked. It seemed the simplest way of knowing. She didn’t think he would lie. “I mean, I probably should actually tell you some things if we’re going to be friends and all that but if I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out.”

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse had to admit by now that he was curious. What could be so mind boggling that Rachel seemed to think he would find her crazy. He had his own fucked up past, sure, and knew very well that most people did. For whatever reason that just didn’t seem to fit Rachel’s personality. For someone so nice to have such dark secrets… it was both scary and intriguing. “Hey, I understand. Trust me, I won’t take it personally if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want to make you talk about it.” 

Hearing Rachel laugh was possible one of the best sounds he’d ever heard. The worrying after not seeing her for a week or so had been dialed down once he made it past her front step, but making her laugh made it worth the concern. “Do you think it takes a lot of effort to keep it looking so nice? I mean, one could only imagine,” he continued, chuckling to himself as they joked around. The joking didn’t last forever though, and by the expression change on Rachel’s face, he wondered if she was going to start opening up more. 

Had Rachel not looked so serious, Toulouse might have answered somewhat sarcastically. But with Rachel, his sarcasm meter was usually lower anyway. So instead, he gave her a reassuring nod. “Of course. I trust you, so I hope you would be able to trust me. Here, give me your pinky.” Toulouse shifted closer to her, sitting upright on the bed with his own pinky extended. “Have you ever heard of a pinky promise? They can never be broken, so that means they’re extra special,” he explained with a smile.

Toulouse took his pinky promises very seriously. Hopefully Rachel would too, since this was the best way that he could think of to ensure she trusted him. “You should never make a pinky promise if you plan on going back on your word. So, I’m going to pinky promise to you, that whatever you tell me, anything at all, whether it be that you have an evil twin, or like… you hate coffee or something ridiculous,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Whatever it is, I pinky promise I won’t freak out, and that you can trust me with anything.” 

—————————————————————————————————

“Don’t tell him I told you, but he spends ages in the bathroom preening it.” A sincere smile swept Rachel’s features as she looped Toulouse’s pinky around her own. Rachel never broke a promise. She liked having a signifier of trust here. “Thank you,” she replied gently and could only hope he meant it.

Rachel took a deep breath; it was mostly to steady herself, but it was also a preparation for the long, rambling story she was about to tell. She supposed the best way to go about telling the story was to just let it all out in one fell swoop. The quicker it was out, the quicker it was done and the quicker Rachel could shrug it all off like none of this was really that big of a deal. 

“Okay, so,” she began, pushing her hair back from her face. Just rip the bandaid off. “I’m a-- I was a Milk Carton Kid. I was kidnapped when I was a baby, and raised by a woman who I thought was my mother. She homeschooled me, sort of, and said that there were people out there-- out here-- that would want to hurt me, or steal me. That I had to stay inside the house, with her, so she could protect me.”

Rachel took a pause, glancing carefully at Toulouse. Any sign of a freak out and she would end her story there. It had been the easy part for Rachel to tell, but it also happened to be the part of the story that made most people uncomfortable. Still, Toulouse promised not to freak out, and Rachel was going to hold him to it. She went on but her stomach was starting to turn itself in knots again, and the fingers through her hair found a lock to tug at.

“‘Mother’ was the only person I knew for my whole life, and she never let me-- I never-- I thought everything outside of my home was dangerous and scary, and that the ruffians and thugs would probably get me. I had thought about asking her to take me to see the lights for my birthday a few times, but something always came up so we never did… Um, but anyway, one day when ‘Mother’ was gone someone broke into our house, not realising I was in there, and I obviously totally freaked out and hit him with my frying pan because I’d never seen a grown man before.” 

(At this, Rachel hoped Toulouse had forgotten about the lamp.) 

“When he woke back up… I asked him to take me with him. I wanted to see the lights on my birthday, and he agreed to take me there and bring me back in one piece.”

Here, Rachel hesitated. She had lost so much sleep in the past few weeks over the next part of the story that she could feel the knots tightening, and her eyes starting to sting at the corners. That would surely be enough for Toulouse to process for a moment while she swallowed the horrible feeling.

—————————————————————————————————

When Rachel started to tell her story, Toulouse used all of his focus to make sure he was giving her his undivided attention. He could tell as soon as she started that it was a very emotional story. What he didn’t expect however was just how traumatizing it was going to be. Not wanting to be disrespectful by interrupting, Toulouse let her get everything out, hoping it would help her from stopping and creating awkward silences. Watching her body language, it was obvious that the topic was uncomfortable to talk about. For that, he commended her greatly. 

As soon as she did pause, Toulouse jumped into the conversation so that she wouldn’t feel embarrassed. He had promised not to freak out, and though all of this was pretty freak out worthy, he wasn’t going to break his promise. “Wow… so you’ve only really been home for a few years? That’s… well, I couldn’t even imagine.” For Toulouse, his family meant everything. To think that Rachel was raised from such a young age to find out that her mother was just some deranged lady who’d kidnapped her? He wouldn’t have known how he’d react. No wonder she was having so many emotions the past week. Not to mention she’d robbed Rachel of things like basic human knowledge. To have never seen a grown man before sounded almost impossible. 

“So… you saw them, then? And what happened after that? I mean, obviously you found your parents eventually.” Toulouse could see she was hesitant to continue. Pausing for a moment, he shifted his positioning on the bed to get more comfortable and turned to her. “You don’t have to keep going, if you don’t want to. It’s just- I know what it’s like. To you know, go through something pretty traumatic.” He didn’t want to unload all of his trauma on her, especially not when this was supposed to be a safe time and place for her to tell him what was on her mind. Rachel deserved to tell her story with no judgement and no diversions. 

—————————————————————————————————

“Four years this month,” Rachel admitted quietly, a strange melancholy lingering in her chest. It felt like much longer, and somehow like no time had passed at all. Until recently, Rachel thought she had been doing just fine settling in. She had been doing just fine. No one had counted on her past bumping into her on the streets. Rachel didn’t expect Toulouse to understand what any of this had been like. Hell, she hardly expected him to believe her at all, what with how outlandish it must have sounded. But he hadn’t ran yet, and he hadn’t freaked out, like he promised. For that Rachel was thankful. So for all it was uncomfortable, she thought it was best to continue and leave nothing up to speculation.

“I did see the lights...” she replied, watching Toulouse carefully as he shifted on the bed. For the most part, Rachel had kept herself rather close, a knee pulled up to her chest, a comforting arm around it. There was an ever present twisting of her hair. She took another pause from her story to offer Toulouse a genuine, heartfelt smile, finding some sort of comfort in his reassurance. “Thank you, Toulouse…”

Determined not to hesitate again, Rachel buried her discomfort and went on. “It gets kind of complicated after that. Or more complicated, I guess. After we saw the lights, Fl-- the man was supposed to take me home, but he didn’t. He, uh… He brought me here, to Redwood Hollow instead. He left me at the Police Station without an explanation and I thought I would never see him again.”

“I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know who I was, didn’t know I was missing. My birthday wasn’t even my real birthday. And suddenly they were asking all these questions, trying to get me to prove that I was this missing kid and before I knew it I was meeting my real parents and testifying against ‘Mother’ in court even though I barely knew what she had done wrong. Then they realised that I knew literally nothing, and I had to go on this schooling program just so I could maybe go to college one day…”

Of course, this explained a few things, but she didn’t think it explained why she had been skipping class, and at that thought the tears sprung from her eyes. “Sorry… This is definitely not what you signed up for.”

—————————————————————————————————

Four years. Four years! Toulouse couldn’t even imagine being away from home for one let alone four. Then again, Rachel hadn’t even known that the home she was living in wasn’t home. She hadn’t suspected anything at all until that day, and even then, she had no clue what was going on. Toulouse’s head was spinning as she told the story, it getting wilder and more complicated as she told it. Honestly, he wasn’t shocked that she remembered it all, but he was surprised that she was willing to tell it. 

“Wait, so if you really had no idea that you weren’t with your actual mother until this man showed up, did he recognize you? You know… after he regained consciousness,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I mean, it’s good and all that you weren’t hurt, but that part is sort of suspicious that he would just agree to take you somewhere. Especially since he broke into the house not knowing you were there.” 

It was definitely a lot to unpack. Toulouse had a hard time imagining Rachel trying to process it all back then, especially since it must have been one hell of a shock. “I mean, I signed up to listen, didn’t I?” He reassured her. After a moment, he shook his head though. “Damn… I mean, I just can’t imagine what that must have felt like.” Running a hand through his hair, Toulouse sighed, looking back at Rachel. “I’m guessing there’s more, though, right? I mean, if that was all the past, what’s been happening now?” 

Before she could even respond, Toulouse held up a hand. “Wait,” he hesitated, laying down on the bed on his side and motioning for her to do the same. “Might as well get comfortable, right? Okay, I’m ready.”

—————

All Rachel could do at the question was shrug. By all accounts, it didn’t make any sense, but it had been advised that Rachel didn’t dwell too long on Flynn’s true intentions. “I guess he must have recognised me or something,” she replied, pulling some hair away from her neck to show a small, dark mark behind her left ear. “I have a birthmark shaped like a sun behind my ear, and I look a lot like my Mom when she was a teenager. He probably heard about the reward and when he realised who I was… It was a lucky fluke.”

A nod of her head followed when Toulouse asked if there was more. They were up-to-date and now the whole reason she hadn’t been in class was looming. All that other stuff had been easy in comparison to admitting that things weren’t going so great now. 

Rachel froze with her mouth drooped open, paused before the answer could find her tongue. Her eyebrow raised as Toulouse held up his hand and he proceeded to lie down, and she almost assumed he was preparing for a nap at how boring he was finding her story. But then he went and made her laugh quietly despite her nerves and in spite of her tears. She didn’t move immediately, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, and then with a sigh she lay down on her side, propping herself on her elbow to mirror him.

“I thought I was actually doing okay until, like, a week ago…” Rachel admitted through a sniffle.

She had to think of the best way to word this part of the story. Obviously Toulouse would know who Mr Rider was, and the last thing she wanted was for any of this to taint his opinion of him. For all he had hurt her, for all she was now convinced he hadn’t cared about her at all, Rachel still thought there was good in him, and that he deserved to be treated as fairly as anyone else. With a defeated huff, she plopped down onto the bed to stare at the ceiling, half-way painted with the beginnings of a new mural.

“So, you know the man that found me? I haven’t seen him since he left me at the station four years ago. And then just before the Hootenanny I bumped into him on the street and it was like-- I don’t know, it was like nothing had happened, and obviously I was kinda surprised but I thought that was the end of it until he, like, showed up at college.” Rachel took a moment to steady herself, in between speaking a mile a minute and crying more than she wanted to. When slightly less frantic, she glanced at Toulouse out of the corner of her eye. “You know Mr Rider, the new art teacher..? That’s him. He didn’t even say anything and I’ve just been pretending we never met because I thought I would be fine, ‘cause he seemed fine. And Cass was like oh you should tell the school and get a new teacher, it’s bad for you to talk to him and I was like no, it’s fine, I’ll be fine, nothing’s gonna happen! And now… Tada! I wanted to go to school, I really did, but I just-- I couldn’t get past the driveway.”

—————————————————————————————————

Toulouse could see there was a look of confusion on Rachel’s face when he asked her to wait a second. For a moment he wanted to apologize and reassure her it wasn’t a bad thing, but she seemed to come around quick enough. He could tell that she was a little emotional about all of this, but didn’t comment on it as he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. She didn’t have to hide the fact that she was upset around him, but he did feel bad that this had impacted her so greatly. “So what happened a week ago then?”

Watching her carefully as she fell on the bed, Toulouse wondered what she was thinking about. He took the opportunity to follow her gaze to the start of a beautiful painting. Smiling to himself, he turned back to give her his attention, and just in time, it seemed. When he heard the name of the man Rachel had been talking about, Toulouse nearly sprung up out of the bed. But, he had promised to keep it together, thus the most he gave in response was a wide eyed stare. “No… no way. You’re serious?” Mr. Rider had seemed cool enough, Toulouse thought, though he always got along better with his female teachers. Of course, he hadn’t really put in the effort to get to know him, but now he kind of felt like he did. At least, a part of him. 

“Wait, so Mr. Rider broke into your house? And then was still allowed to teach? How does that make any sense?” That was probably the most confusing part about all of this. Toulouse was raised with the knowledge that there were people in the world who committed crimes, but those crimes had always been followed with a consequence. Then there was the conflicting opinion of Cass, who he didn’t really know, but he had to admit they had a point. Clearly it wasn’t good for her mental health to be seeing him this soon. Not out of the blue, anyway. 

“No one is going to think less of you because you missed school, Rachel. It’s okay to take that time that you need.” Rachel was still at a very vulnerable part of her life. Toulouse recognized that, and wanted to make sure she knew that it was okay. But also, he just really wanted to give her a hug. Debating it over in his head, he finally said fuck it, why not? and decided to offer one. Nudging her gently, Toulouse motioned for her to come closer, holding his arms open. “You look like you need one,” he offered, rather meekly. 

—————————————————————————————————

Rachel waited for the penny to drop, for Toulouse to lose his mind over the ordeal. Continuing the absent twist of her hair, she could see out the corner of her eye the look of total disbelief written across his face. “Mmhm. Deadly serious.”

In Rachel’s head, the whole breaking-and-entering thing was a total non-issue. She had learned enough of Flynn’s history to know why he had been breaking into her house in the first place, and by the time they were off to see the lights that detail was all but forgiven and forgotten. Cass freaked out about it because she was a police officer, so of course that made sense, but at this point Rachel couldn’t see what the big deal was about a previous thief teaching an art class. (Her judgement was quite clearly skewed in the wrong direction, it seemed.)

“Everyone gets really hung up on that part…” Rachel muttered incredulously, already having logiced her away around the dissonance of being terrified of ruffians and thugs and completely sympathising with one. She was blissfully unaware that he had done jail time for his crimes too.  “I don’t know, I guess he was just going through a rough patch a few years ago? I mean, it was petty theft. It’s not like he killed anyone.”

Rachel sniffled a few more times, and though she wasn’t totally okay, she managed to pull herself together just enough to stop sobbing. “I know…” she replied quietly. “It’s just that-- I don’t know… It’s a whole mess.” She would have lay there moping for a few more minutes had it not been for the nudge from Toulouse, which took her by surprise. With his arms open, she hesitated (Rachel never asked for hugs no matter how badly she wanted or needed one). “I do kinda need one,” Rachel admitted finally, giving a thankful smile before she scooted close enough for a good old hug. “Thanks…”

————————————————���————————————————

Toulouse could tell that she was dismissive about it. Though he didn’t want to pick an argument by trying to explain that any crime was still a crime, he also worried about her judgement of character. Deciding that wasn’t the focus of the conversation, he let it go. Obviously the college would have looked into it, right? So it was probably fine. At least, he was going to say it was for now. “Yeah.. you’re probably right, it’s probably nothing…” Even if it was just nothing, Toulouse wanted more information. For now, getting to lay down with Rachel and just comfort her would be enough. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he hummed, giving her a comforting squeeze. Besides, a good cuddle was always the best kind of thanks, really. Of course he couldn’t say that out loud —at least not yet. Toulouse didn’t break away from the hug just yet, wanting to enjoy the moment a bit longer. “But I mean… if you really want to thank me, I’d take a look at the papers I brought you. Some of them are boring school work, but a majority are fun. I made some up, and some are just fun things to do when you get bored of just sitting at home,” he explained, letting her go from the hug with a playful smile. 

“I don’t know if there was more I need to hear about, but if you want, we can take a break,” he offered. Rachel seemed to be pretty drained emotionally, and he didn’t want to push her further. “Can I ask you a silly question, though? Had you really never seen a man before? I mean, that’s pretty crazy,” he said with a chuckle. “Most of them aren’t that exciting, though, so you didn't miss much.” 

—————————————————————————————————

Rachel hoped it was nothing; she couldn't take any more curveballs at this rate. (Admittedly though, if one good thing came of this, it was that Toulouse threw a soft curveball by showing up, like a weird, cuddly saving grace.)

Just as apologising had become a force of habit, it seemed thanking people for tiny things was right up there beside it, and she had to actively think about not saying sorry for saying thank you. Her curiosity piqued at the mention of the things Toulouse has brought, pulling back just far enough to give him a flash of her raised eyebrow. She had all but forgotten he had something in his hands, you know, because she was so preoccupied with the lamp and all… "What's in the papers?" she asked, wondering if some of it was missed homework and what on earth he could have made up.

“A break would be nice. I think that’s everything…” Rachel sighed, a strange feeling of relief finally hitting her. A faint blush crept its way across Rachel’s cheeks as she nodded in admission. She wished she had been making it up, but Rachel hadn’t even laid eyes on the Postman. The house had been surrounded by a great deal of trees and high hedges, and a wall that was supposed to be unscalable. The Postman left letters in a postbox outside the garden gate, and Rachel had been forbidden from collecting any mail until the late afternoon, when he was long gone. “I wish I was kidding,” she laughed bashfully. “I mean, I’d seen men in, like, pictures in books and sometimes on TV and stuff, but never in person. I think everyone is a little bit exciting, but I don’t exactly have much to draw from.”

—————————————————————————————————

“Some missed assignments, nothing too major. Plus you have an extension to do them. I had to ask around a bit, but everything should be there,” Toulouse explained. “The ones that are made up were just in case your dad tried to take them.” Chuckling slightly, he shook his head, turning to look at her. He was glad that Rachel agreed to take a break, though he knew that sometimes when people got into slumps like this, taking a break only made them feel worse. Fortunately Toulouse was always good at making them fun. “Some of the activities are things like watching a bad movie on purpose, baking, trying a new skill, helping Toulouse with an art project, you know, just fun stuff.” 

That last activity he’d slipped in there purposely, hoping that it would peak her interest. He wanted to collaborate with her on something, if she was willing. Of course he hoped she was, otherwise he wouldn’t have put it in there, but that meant he would once again have to get past her father. Unless he came at a time the man wasn’t home; her mother seemed much more accepting of strangers into their home. 

Toulouse couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the idea of never having seen the opposite sex in person. “What about when you went to the doctor? Grocery shopping? A taxi? Surely you had to have at some point,” he further investigated. Rachel made a fair point, he supposed. There were plenty of things that each person had that might have been exciting, but as far as men go, Toulouse wasn’t very impressed. “Do you think I’m exciting?” he teased, his lips quirking into a half smile as he waited for her to answer. The feeling was mutual, if her answer was yes. Toulouse found her very exciting. Just then, the sound of the doorknob turning caught his attention as he directed his gaze toward Rachel’s door. 

—————————————————————————————————

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble,” Rachel replied quickly, hoping that her absence hadn’t been too much of a burden on her friend. She was quite sincerely touched by the gesture and the effort, but the last thing she wanted was for anyone to go out of their way for her, friend or not. “I promise my Dad isn’t that scary once you get to know him,” she insisted, though she couldn’t completely understand why Toulouse might think he would take the papers away.

“Those definitely sound like you made them up,” she laughed quietly. Fun, yes! Not real assignments? Definitely. Luckily for Toulouse, Rachel was as naive as the day was long; his not-so-subtle hints, that would have been obvious wink-wink, nudge-nudges to everyone else, went right over poor Rachel’s head and she took the bait without even realising it. “An art project?” she asked, thoroughly interested.

It occurred to Rachel that Toulouse probably didn’t realise the extent of I Never Left. She genuinely hadn’t seen another human being because she genuinely hadn’t been allowed to leave the gates of the house. “Nope. I didn’t get to go to any of those places. I… couldn’t leave.” Now, for some reason, Rachel was blushing furiously. Her only ideas as to why was being embarrassed about the not leaving thing. It obviously had nothing to do with Toulouse asking if she thought he was exciting. “I might,” she replied, trying to play it cool. She didn’t have time to offer further explanation before her bedroom door opened.

Dad’s moustache peeked around the door, the rest of his head following quickly after. He looked just as gruff as when he had answered the door, his brow pulling together when it was apparent the pair were sitting far too close for comfort on the bed. Rachel paid it no mind, and threw on her usual sunny smile (hiding the fact she had been crying moments prior).

“Your mom said I should bring you snacks…”

—————————————————————————————————

End of part one.

#rachel #toulouse #no show #part 1 #the formatting of the replies from the doc hasn't transferred over but i'll fix that later #panic attack tw #flashbacks tw #abuse tw #trauma tw #also this is long lol soz

[kernelmeow]

QuiObi Drabble || Highlander AU

***

Obi-Wan breaks through the scotch mist, shaking the beads of water from his hair and coat. The trek was a grueling ascent of hard terrain, but Obi-Wan navigates the path with familiar ease.

Atop the plateau the world is vast and small beneath him. The grasslands reach far beyond the horizon, and the clouds so close that he might simply scoop a handful within his palm. For all the splendor there was to behold, it was not the view for why he was there.

He hauls the knapsack up his shoulder, slipping from the weight it held, and presses on.

It’s not long that he spies the quiet host of this dominion and approaches until he stills before them, and inclines his head as a gesture of respect.

“Beannachd caraid,” he greets.

A sharp eye cut from a large sapphire stares at him, unblinking.

“Fàilte agus bi sàbhailte.” The voice rumbles like boulders descending a mountain, the earth quaking in submission. While accustomed to this nature, Obi-Wan felt the living power in each syllable, in each exhale of breath.

The eye blinks and then the head on which it resides rises from the ground to acknowledge his visitation. Obi-Wan still remembers the first time - would never forget how he gasped at the sight of the magnificent creature.

He smiles fondly up at the dragon. At Qui-Gon. That was the name which he had been privileged to be gifted with.

***

#dragon!qui-gon #it feeds my soul #quiobi

[revasserium]

if you want to, can I request redamancy and Nikolai?

send me a word and a character, and i’ll write you a drabble :)

redamancy. nikolai 

correlation does not imply causation – it’s a simple concept, basic, fundamental, facile, even, and nikolai knows it makes no sense to try and read meaning into gestures that might not have any. like the way you seem to smile just a bit wider at him, or how he could always feel you watching him, or how even Elizabeth seems to know something he doesn’t when she curls up on the couch where you’d just been sitting, purring loudly as if to make nikolai extra aware of how she could sit where you’d been sitting, even sit in your lap if she wanted, and he could do nothing to stop her. 

cats are such vexing, petty creatures, but nikolai supposes that’s why he likes them so much. they remind him of himself, sure and aloof, though churning on the inside with the endless desire to be loved. oh, to be loved. 

he thought he understood it, the concept of love, and scientifically speaking, even theoretically speaking, he does – to the minute details of neurons firing, how we’re just bodies drawn to other bodies with the most genetic variation, how when you strip everything down, we’re just a series of electric impulses passed along the wires tangled beneath our skin. 

meeting you made him question everything he ever thought he’d known. 

about truth, and life, and falling in love. 

you were art and passion, and depth too, even though the first time he’d seen your eyes go wide at a titian, he thinks you innocent. you prove him wrong, of course, time and time again, prove to him that humans are more than the sum of their parts, more than urges wrapped around bone-china skeletons, biological processes stuffed into muscle and salt and skin. you show him that spirit is sometimes a tangible thing, that happiness can weigh just as heavily as sorrow, or regret, and that love, oh love – 

that love is so much less about falling and so much more about learning to love the feeling of giving up to gravity. it’s trust in a way that he’s never encountered before, one where there’s no escape route, no helicopter to swoop in and save him, no guaranteed bed of pillows to cushion his fall when he hits the ground (and they always, always do, no matter how long the fall). it’s a kind of trust that requires him to give himself to the unknown, and he’s never really been good at that. 

but somehow, someway, he thinks that if he could just make you smile a bit more, listen to you laugh just a little longer, he doesn’t care how it’s done, just that it’s done, and that he’s the one to do it – so he gives in. he learns. and he learns. and he learns that you’re just as lost as he is, but you’re not scared at all. 

“that’s why it takes courage,” you say, cupping his cheeks as he looks up at you from his position beneath you on the sofa, your legs on either side of his hips, his hands warm around your waist. 

“because you never know what’s going to happen tomorrow, like a meteor could drop out of the sky and kill us all.” 

nikolai laughs, shaking his head, his smile widening as he does so. 

“let’s not be so morbid. i’m sure we would’ve been alerted long before now if there were anything heading into earth’s orbit.” 

you sigh, running a finger down the bridge of his nose before letting it fall over his lips. 

“still, we can’t be 100% sure.” 

he seems to weigh the options of aguing with you, but relents in the end. he seems to be doing that a lot lately; maybe he’s losing his edge. or maybe, he’s just falling even deeper in love with you. 

“but, i’m choosing to love you anyway.” 

nikolai tugs you down for a kiss that is more tongue and teeth than lips and sweetness, and when you pull away, both of you are breathless. 

“good.” he doesn’t say the words piling up at the back of his throat like souring grapes, threatening to tumble out if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. he kisses a line down your throat and eventually, he manages to maneuver both of you into his bedroom where he kicks the door closed, almost on Elizabeth’s tail (he’ll pay for that dearly later, he’s sure). 

and he looks down at you, now pinned beneath him, a flush on your cheeks, your lips parted and kiss-swollen. 

he thinks that the true courage isn’t in not knowing if the world will end, it’s knowing that one day, this love could end, and choosing to love still, in spite of that. 

#nikolai stirling #queen of thieves #nikolai stirling x reader #lovestruck #voltage fanfic #niknik #yes that's my tag for him lmfao

[celestialvexation]

Ague

a joxkin drabble for @rotten-dandelions for their wonderful donation!! thank you so much and i hope you enjoy ; A ; 

The coughing sounded worse than yesterday, he noted as he returned to his seat next to the nest of furs. He watched his son’s nose twitch at the scent of that familiar scent -- the herbs and tobacco that’s to announce the Joxter’s arrival after having to venture into the winter woodlands to forage for not only food, but plants that are to aid in the illness. 

At first, it had been nothing but chills and shivers that both mumriks believed to be because of the freezing temperatures. However, when they are to return to the this quaint hut and Snufkin started a fire, he began to shake even further. It didn’t take long until he’s quickly undressed and under the thick furs with a cold comfort atop his forehead. 

The Joxter’s eyes illuminated within the dim lighting, yet it’s absent of its usual cheeriness.

He knew that his son is a strong spirit, but among his travels did he knew that this fever is a great ailment that isn’t expected to leave within a week or so. And that is with the proper remedy to treat it. 

Mumriks are known to be resilient towards certain illnesses, but no matter how powerful the system is to be, there is always a sickness that’s to bring them down to their knees and have them be vulnerable for those fortunate enough to come across one.

A groan from Snufkin soon caught the elder’s attention, leaning over with a raised brow. “Still alive, fortunately,” the Joxter would hum out and had Snufkin been anyone else, they would have been aghast by his somewhat indifferent tone. He knew. He could see the way the Joxter’s focus remained on him. The way his pupils are to dilate as though elated in seeing his son’s progress.

“Ngh... Pa...pa...” Snufkin coughed out, his father leaning back as to not become infected himself. 

“Rest, my dear. It seems like it is wearing down...” he started as he then got up from his seat over to the small stove nearby. Snufkin blinked his heavy lids, settling his shivering and cold-sweated body into the furs as Joxter lit a match to heat the pot.

The sweet scent of herbs is enough to soothe his stuffed nostrils, completely congested to the point where he can feel the filth clogging his senses. He quickly reached over to grab hold of a rag to cough into it before his father continued. “...However, I can see that it still affects you for the worse. Hopefully, this tea is to help with that.” Crushing the leaves whilst waiting for the water to boil to make tea.

“I’m not surprised that you did fall ill,” the Joxter said as he took a few inhales of his pipe. “The winter is harsher this time of year -- ice covers the lands, and a few inhabitants of Moominvalley had gotten ill themselves. 

It’s been rough, apparently.” 

Snufkin remained quiet as he watched his father pour the water into a cup, adding the crushed leaves to it then returning to his son. 

Snufkin gingerly got himself up, sniffling for a moment when the cup is handed to him after it was blown to slightly cool it. Handling it carefully, the young mumrik longs to truly smell it to its potential since his clogged nose prevented him at times. The Joxter’s tender smile is enough for Snufkin to take a few sips of the tea.

The warmth of it sliding down his throat, soothing the aches of it then having to settle comfortably in his stomach made the mumrik all but purr. His eyes closed to take a moment to savor the flavor before opening them to gaze fondly at his father. “...Thank you, papa,” Snufkin beamed, taking more sips of his drink while the elder mumrik hummed delightfully. He didn’t mind his father having to join him among the furs, already given up on the protests of having him stay away lest he is to fall ill himself. 

Lips pressed against his cheek as arms embraced Snufkin, and the Joxter’s head rested along his. Even when the winds are to howl outside their home and made the old wood creak, the mumrik felt more at home than anywhere else. He noted that his father remained cold even after having to near a stove for some time, but that was fine. 

Despite the winter making itself home, Snufkin’s thoughts drifted to the anticipation of blooming flowers and sunlight kissing at his skin.

#moomin #the joxter #snufkin #joxkin #alskdfal omg this is aaaaa #jaunty writes a thing

[vesuvianvienna]

Linguistics

Okay, so first disclaimer, I don’t speak either Gaelic or Russian. I used Google Translate, so they aren’t going to be 100% accurate, but it’s a drabble for a fictional universe, so who cares right? There will be a translation key at the bottom. 

@arcana-dumpsterfire @anjatheapprentice @goatman-entrapment @bazzpop @fernleavesillustrator

The sound of something heavy being knocked to the ground and a sudden cry of pain had Julian leaping from his desk, his chair teetering back on two legs before toppling backwards. Long legs carried him with great haste to the kitchen where he had left Vienna, heart rising into his throat. She was bent over the sink, her hand plunged to the wrist in a bucket of water, and was shouting in a language he didn’t recognize.

"In ainm Dhia! Táim chun tú a chaitheamh san fharraige, píosa cac! Máithreachas!"

For a moment, he stood stunned, storm-grey eyes darting from Vienna to the stove to the small iron kettle she used to make tea lying in a puddle of steaming water on the floor. She was still muttering angrily, her brows pinched, eyes flashing venom-green. After a beat, he spoke, carefully avoiding the still-hot water as he crossed to her.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? What happened?”

Instantly, her eyes returned to their normal warm hazel and her expression smoothed out when she realized he was near, lifting her hand out of the water with a chagrined smile. “The handle snapped on the kettle and it burned me,” she explained, turning her arm to show him the angry red welt across the back of her hand. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“Not at all,” he assured her, gingerly taking her hand in his own to examine the burn; he had been startled, but now wasn’t the time to admit it. “Well, fortunately, I don’t think I’ll have to amputate.” His eyes flashed as he grinned, and her laugh dispelled the last of his worry. “An aloe compress should fix it right up.”

Julian, ever gentle, guided her to the table and sat her down while he snipped a small frond from the aloe plant she grew in a pot by the window, scraping out the clear gel inside into a clean piece of muslin and squeezing until it began to ooze through. Carefully, he applied the compress to her hand, wrapping a length of gauze around it to hold it in place. “So,” he began, his eyes steady on his work, “what exactly were you shouting?”

Her cheeks turned pink, her expression turning sheepish, like a child caught in an act of mischief. "Well...they weren't exactly phrases you'd hear in civilized company."

That cause the corner of his mouth to lift in a grin, tying off the gauze though he didn’t relinquish her hand just yet. "Since when have I ever been considered civilized company, darling?"

Vienna laughed softly, then with her cheeks still pink, she leaned forward and murmured the translation. Julian threw back his head and laughed, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. "I always knew you'd make a fantastic pirate; you can swear like a sailor already!" He brought her injured hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips, still chuckling. "You'll have to teach me how to properly swear in your native language, I've been meaning to expand my repertoire."

Vienna cocked her brow, the edges of her lips curling in turn. "Only if you'll teach me some in Nevivonian."

His lips pursed in thought as he grew silent, recalling a few of his favorites. “Well, one that Mazelinka liked to use was podlaya pizda. Then there’s ublyudok, sukin syn, mudak, and my personal favorite, sifiliticheskiy pridurok.” He ticked them off on his fingers, the strange language dripping off his tongue like rainwater, and Vienna didn’t realize she was staring until he gave her a questioning look. “Sweetheart, you’re blushing.”

Now that he said something, she did feel a bit warm around the neck. “It’s just...well, you don’t speak your native language very often, and it’s…” Her flush deepened a shade or two. “I may not know what you’re saying, but I like hearing you say it.”

He practically purred at her admission, reaching for her waist to draw her closer. “Really? Perhaps we could teach each other some more intimate phrases?” His fingertips slid up her arm as he leaned forward to brush his lips against the shell of her ear, his breath tickling her skin as he murmured. "Ya zhazhdu uvidet' tebya razdetym i zhelayushchim, samym lyubimym v moyem serdtse."

Vienna felt a shudder ripple down her spine, goosebumps breaking out across her flesh as a wave of heat pooled in her belly. “Two can play at that game,” she muttered before looping her arms around Julian’s neck, pressing herself against his chest and batting her lashes up at him. “Ilya, gráinn, cén fáth nach gcaitheann tú mé thar an tábla seo agus go nglacfaidh mé liom mar fraochÚn bréan?" As she spoke, her unbandaged hand slipped down his neck, dragging her nails down his throat hard enough to leave four red trails, though not quite hard enough to sting. Nonetheless, Julian let out a throaty noise of pleasure, shivering in her arms, pressing one hand at her lower back to push her hips against his. Slowly, as if waiting for permission, he brushed his lips against hers, the barest whisper of a kiss, until she took his face between her hands and brought her mouth crashing down on his, kissing him properly, passionately, hungrily. Hands clutched, eyes closed, hips rocked as they sought heat and friction, until they withdrew, panting and grinning. 

“Bedroom?” Julian’s eyes were wide, pleading, flushed from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest. Vienna nodded, clutching him as he rose to his feet, arms secure around her as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I think I could use a more...thorough lesson in your language, love.”

Gaelic:

In ainm Dhia: God damn it Táim chun tú a chaitheamh san fharraige, píosa cac: I’m going to throw you into the ocean, you piece of shit Máithreachas: Motherfucker gráinn: darling cén fáth nach gcaitheann tú mé thar an tábla seo agus go nglacfaidh mé liom mar fraochÚn bréan?: why don’t you throw me over the table and fuck me like a filthy whore?

Russian: 

podlaya pizda: dastardly cunt ublyudok: bastard sukin syn: son of a whore mudak: asshole sifiliticheskiy pridurok: syphilitic moron Ya zhazhdu uvidet' tebya razdetym i zhelayushchim, samym lyubimym v moyem serdtse: I long to see you stripped and wanting, most beloved of my heart

#the arcana #julian devorak #it's 3 am and i've been looking up swears on google translate for two hours #i cannot be stopped

[cocklesdestielfiction]

Hi guys! How are you doing? I was wondering if I could share a (not-beta-yet) drabble about Priest!Cas/Contractor!Dean with you. Would that be OK? Thank you!

Heya Darling! Agus here! Yeah sure, every thing you wanna share for us to reblog, just tag us and we'll take care of it!!!

Hope you're having a good day, ♡

[tospititontheon]

@illuxions​ || this was supposed to be a drabble

              ✮

                                     There’s a heavy silence in the otherwise active dream realm. Slowly he draws closer to the center. Things twitching and turning, hallways changing as he walks down them. the hands of dolls reach out, brushes against the fabric of his long coat and passing through it. He pays them no mind, not like he could help them or they could ever return to how they once were. There’s the sound of boots as he walks, yet his feet don’t touch the floor. There aren’t even any feet beneath him, just the fog that comes flowing after him and the chill to the air around him.

                                      This is getting so tiring. So painfully tiring. How long has he come down these very same winding halls to find her curled up within? He seems to open a door at random, stepping in without fear, walking closer to the Noah curled up on the loveseat hidden in the room. Gently a cold hand reaches out, smoothing down unruly hair as he kneels down to face level. 

                                       A gentle smile is offered as he tries to comfort his dear ‘sister’. He knows he's partly to blame for her current agony with Adam twisting the knife he’s put in her chest. Slowly blued lips part, ❛❛ Ag titim go tapa ina chodladh. Go bhfaighidh an buachaill beag seo brionglóidí blásta, I measc na luaithreach agus na lasracha a lasann spéir na hoíche. Ceann ar cheann, ag titim go bog ❜❜

                                       His voice comes out just as velvety as it had when they’d been together in that house when they’d grown up playing together in the wheat fields, when thunder cracked across the skies and rain poured, and they hid away in mother’s room. Yet he sings the song mother sang to them both in those scary nights to comfort her now, twenty years after his death. They were losing time. Soon, soon the others would be returning. They needed to act, but he also needed Road to be in her right mind for this all to work.

#✮|| I am slowly learning that the things you promised me ||✮ Ic; Nea #✮|| I thought we were friends but now we’re enemies ||✮ Default v; Nea #✮|| I was just surprised at how you turned on me so fast ||✮ Nea && Road #illuxions

[lithuanias]

mleczko i/agus siúcra

(milk and sugar)

irepol drabble inspired by @felicja-j ‘s most recent artwork. written for @aphrarepairweek2018 day 6: snow.

“a ghrá” - “my love”

A red stag’s cry echoed across the still waters of Lough Leane and the snow-covered trees and peaks of Killarney’s mountains.

Frost settled in the corners of the cabin’s fogged up windows.

“Good morning, love,” mumbled Ireland. He rolled over in bed and kissed Poland’s cheek.

“Mmm.” Poland stirred underneath the quilt and sleepily put a hand on Ireland’s chest. “Dzień dobry.”

“Too early for English?”

“Mmm.”

“Did you sleep well?” whispered Ireland.

“Mmm.” Poland rolled over to “I don’t want to get out of bed,” he muttered. “It’s snowing.”

Ireland half-heartedly rolled over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Oh dear, it’s ten o’clock,” he said.

“We’re on our honeymoon,” said Poland. He curled up and rested his forehead against Ireland’s chest. “I don’t want to do anything.”

“A ghrá,” Ireland said. He ran his fingers through Poland’s soft hair. “I’m going to make some tea.” He kissed the top of his head. He pulled on a robe and left the room.

At the thought of an empty bed, Poland followed Ireland out the door, wrapping the quilt around his shoulders.

In the small kitchen, Ireland turned on the kettle and set down two mugs.

Poland shuffled over to him and put his arms around him.

“Hello,” said Ireland, amused.

“Hello.” Poland brushed his lips against his shoulder.

Ireland glanced out the window. The snow fell softly outside, covering the valley. It felt warm inside, but going outdoors would mean having to put on jackets and boots and hats…

“What do you want to do today?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Poland.

Ireland poured the hot water into the mugs and smiled. “I agree.”

“Your tea wakes me up.” Poland shuffled over to the fridge and took out some milk.

Milk for Ireland; milk and sugar for Poland.

In the middle of pouring milk, Poland said, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Ireland.

Poland set the milk down and pressed his lips against Ireland’s.

The tea needed to cool down anyway, thought Ireland, and he rested his hands on Poland’s waist.

#irepol #aph ireland #aph poland #hetalia #aphrarepairweek2018 #i write things

[writingring]

Home Alone: Bored in the Cottage

Another installment of my new drabble series starring Rosanna the human and Agu the naga!

Rosanna gave a frustrated huff when she found she needed to go to the market or they wouldn’t have food. She cast a anxious glance at the young naga, who was drawing on the living room floor. She hadn’t left him home alone while he was awake since she found him- she had no idea how he would handle it. With a deep breath she decided not to make it a big deal.

“Agu, I need to go into town. I’ll be back in an hour or so, okay?”

Agu obviously thought this was a big deal.

By the time Rosanna had her shoes on he had raced over and was tugging on her skirt whining. “Aw, I’m sorry, dear, but you can’t come with me and we can’t live on the garden alone.” She felt horrible at the heartbroken look he was giving her, but she couldn’t bear to imagine what other people might say if they saw him- Lord knows how old-fashioned those people were. “Now, now, I won’t be long. You’ll draw me something nice for the fridge while I’m gone, won’t you?” The naga begrudgingly nodded and let got of her skirt, sadly watching as she kissed his head before leaving.

Agu didn’t like how lonely the house seemed as soon as Rosanna wasn’t there. He was sure she would have a quote from one of her books to describe what he was feeling, but with her not here he would never know.

He was tempted to flop on the floor and sulk, but without his mother figure to coo over how cute he was when he pouted there was no point.

He finished his drawing of the garden as he thought about what he could do for the next hour. He couldn’t run the bath by himself, so that was out of the question. He couldn’t use the stove either, so no soup (not that he knew how to make it anyways). Playing outside was no fun if Rosanna didn’t play tag with him or let him cover her in flower crowns. They didn’t own any games for only one person and even if they did there was no point if there was no one to praise him when he won.

Most people would take this as a sign that they needed to be less dependent.

Agu took this as a sign that Rosanna should never go anywhere that he couldn’t.

Just as he finished the final plant in his drawing he had a thought: Rosanna loved receiving his drawings. With this in mind, he spent the next hour making as many drawing of as high quality as he could. He was so focused that he didn’t even hear Rosanna until she was right next to him.

“Ah, that looks good, Agu.” He immediately abandoned his work in favor of clinging to her legs. “Hey now, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” She sank her hands into his afro to rub his scalp as he whined. “Alright, up we go,” she muttered as she picked him up, the boy immediately burying his face in her neck as she rubbed his back. “There, there, dear. How about next time I only go for half an hour? Would that be better?”

“Rosie stay,” he insisted, clinging tighter to her.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I either have to go for an hour every other week or half an hour every week.” She winced as another whine came from the naga. At this point his arms had a death grip on her shirt and his tail had wrapped itself around her waist. The next twenty minutes were spent soothing the boy until he was calm enough for his nap, though he didn’t let go of her even in his sleep.

“I guess parenting a naga is harder than I thought,” she mused to herself. Agu’s hand, which had slipped off her shoulder, moved blindly across the mattress until it found her own and wrapped around a few of her fingers, making Rosanna smile. “It’s worth it, though.”

Tags: @write-it-motherfuckers

#writing #oc #ocs #revolution #naga #snake #snake son #human #human mom

[scxthach]

o m'anam | pàirt aon (drabble)

Disclaimer: Hover over Gaelic text for translation!

That night, sleep had not pulled her into its gentle embrace.

Cold and wet. The storm that had breached upon the shores of the Isle had already begun to unleash its fury on the fortress that dared make its stand near the sea. Waves crashed against the edge, some rising so high that the shadowy figure in the fortress’ small window could have sworn they tasted the salty water from the Loch just below. At night the Loch looked much like a pit of blackness willing to swallow anyone whole who wished to jump into its watery depths. 

“Cha do chaidil thu fhathast?” A voice came from the thick shadows that gave the fortress its name. It was her daughter, Uathach, who seemed to also have trouble sleeping. The energy in the castle was palpable; so many warriors resting in one place who were excited for the battle to come. Scathach was certain that one warrior in particular was probably somewhere practicing, which is why he wasn’t sleeping with the now anxious Uathach. Men were such simple creatures. The older woman sighed and turned towards her daughter.

“Caidil a-nis, Uathach.  Chan eil fhios agad dè bheir amàireach.” Though she was telling her that she knew the words were no comfort. They weren’t meant to be. Uathach was not a child and seriousness of the battle to come should not be lightened for anyone anyone in the castle. Uathach could see as much in her mother’s tone and knew better than to argue. Only just the other day her daughter had tried to suggest to her that staying in the fortress was the better option. Could Aife even penetrate it’s defenses? Probably not, but that didn’t matter.

“Is dòcha gum bi sin fìor, ach theagaisg mi gaisgich. Tha iad ag iarraidh glòir. Dè an seòrsa de ghaisgeach a bhiodhinn nam biodh mi a 'falach?“

After such a conversation Uathach knew better than to question her again. As Scathach began to walk past her daughter she stopped when she realized something. Her tone was almost scolding, the way one would a mother to a child.

“A bheil dragh ort mun bhalach?” Scathach asked, her sanguine eyes fixed on her daughter’s nervous back. The mother in her shouldn’t have been surprised; Uathach had been laying with him for a while now and in a way the girl was smitten. He had a playful, rambunctious sort of personality that made people either hate him thoroughly or enjoy his company--sometimes both at once. Many of the students in the castle knew better than to attack him out of anger now, though.

“Tha e airson sabaid cuideachd.” That didn’t answer her question. Moreover, she already knew that, whether he had said it in so many words or not. The boy was brimming with so much confidence that she was sure he thought he could finish off her sister all by himself (( mun note, HAHAHA)). Uathach could feel her mother’s eyes piercing her but the girl didn’t break down. Instead she turned to meet her mother’s eyes with a firm determination. That was enough.

Before the girl could speak, Scathach raised her hand and quietly said, “Lorg an gille agus cuir a-steach e don t-seòmar agam.” There was a flair of jealousy from her daughter at the command, as she thought her mother was going to lay with him that night instead. Ah you sweet summer child...but just as Uathach opened her mouth to protest---

“Sa bhad.” The word was said with so much force that it made her daughter visibly shudder. Scathach need not explain her reasons to her foolish daughter, nor her plans. She would keep  Cú Chulainn out of the battle if she could--besides, this battle wasn’t the death she predicted for him anyways. Before leaving the stone hallway Scathach looked out the carved window once more at the dark horizon. Though the waves couldn’t be seen easily, they were there, crashing against the cliff in a constant battle.

Perhaps the battles of the days to come would be never ending like a wave against the shore. But which sister was the rock and who was the battering wave?

#❪ ► DRABBLE ❫ #❪ ► HEADCANON ❫ #from my heart | part one #yes that's scottish gaelic #scathach #fate grand order #no I don't speak it so everything I wrote is probably WRONG #I get a bronze star for trying

[florencetheflowerfairy]

psst idk if you still take drabble prompts but if you do, 32 with taishiro?

Thankyou for the wonderful prompt, Peach! This isn’t the first Taishiro fic thatI’ve written, but it’s the first that I’ve posted online. Hotaru is my sister’sheadcanon name for their daughter. It means “firefly.”

150 drabbles challenge

32. “Why did we have to have kids?”

The sun hung low in the sky,touching the distant mountain tops. It marked that time of day when the cloudsturned orange and violet, and the colors were always more vivid in the DigitalWorld. They were walking hand in hand alongside a gentle river that reflectedthe rosy blue sky. It would have been romantic—

“Daddy!” Hotaru crawled underneath athree-foot-tall mushroom. Her toothy smile was still bright under the shade ofthe giant fungus’ cap.

“What’s up, baby?” Taichi let go ofKoushiro’s hand and knelt next to the toddler. The girl’s smile was asenchanting as it was on the first day that Koushiro introduced her to him.Taichi still felt a rush of giddiness whenever she called him her dad.

“Flower name?” Hotaru patted thedigital mushroom’s stem. She had developed an interest in plants since Koushirostarted writing a paper about Digital World flora. It was all they talked aboutat dinner.

“That’s not a flower. It’s amushroom. I bet Papa can tell you the scientific name—”

“Papa no helping Daddy!” Hotaruinterrupted.

Koushiro abruptly closed his mouth.Then he giggled.

“You want me to come up with a scientific name for it? Do you want me to embarrass myself in front ofPapa?” Taichi drawled his questions and Hotaru erupted into giggles at herfather’s silly tone of voice. “Fine. It’s the Fungasaurus mushroomiest giganticlus.”

“Nooo!” Tentomon shouted andhovered next to the girl. “That’s not how binomial nomenclature works at all!He’s supposed to only say two names! Genus and species! By saying three names,he completely blew his cover!”

“Oh come on.” Taichi shrugged.“That was two words. There was…a hyphen.” Koushiro joined his daughter in giggling.But Taichi didn’t convince the bug digimon.

Tentomon nudged Taichi’s arm andwhispered loudly. “That didn’t even sound Latin! You should have said somethinglike Mushroomius mithrilus and itwould have been more believable. I’m just trying to help you impress Koushiro!”

“Tentomon…” Koushiro covered hismouth to hide his smile. “You keep saying ‘mithril,’ but I don’t think youactually know what that word means.”

“Of course I do! It’s what themushroom is obviously made of. At least, that’s my hypothesis!” Tentomonreplied.

“Does that mean it’s poisonous?”Agumon asked.

“Goodness no! It means that it’smetallic,” Tentomon answered.

Agumon chomped his teeth around thegiant mushroom stem. Hotaru gasped and clapped her hands. Tentomon made adisappointed sounding buzz.

“S’defin’tly NOT made uff medal,”Agumon said with his mouth full, making the girl laugh. Taichi immediatelygrabbed the little dinosaur and yanked him off the fungus.

“Agu, what have I said aboutputting strange things in your mouth? Set a better example for Hotaru!” Taichishook his digimon partner and looked back at Koushiro. “That’s not actually poison, right?”

“No, no! I would have saidsomething if it was!” Koushiro’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry to make you worry. Iwouldn’t have let Hotaru come if I knew there were poisonous plants here!”

Taichi gently dropped Agumon and roseto his feet. He grasped Koushiro’s hand again. “Hey, it’s okay. I wasn’tworried. I trust you—”

“It’s not a poisonous plant! It’s a poisonous fungus!” Tentomon corrected his partner.

Koushiro sighed. “I just said itwasn’t poisonous. You’re missing the point, Tentomon. I don’t mind, but pleasedon’t try to show off in front of Hotaru.”

Hotaru, meanwhile, chomped on themushroom stem. She quickly spat out the bits that stuck to her teeth. “Yuck!Yucky yuck!”

“Maybe mithril is softer than Ithought…” pondered Tentomon.

“Sweetie, don’t eat that!” Koushirolooked alarmed.

“She’s fine, remember?” Taichireassured him.

“It will taste better if we cookit!” Agumon spoke up, eager to teach Hotaru the cooking skills he had learnedfrom Taichi. “We can make a HUGE miso stew with this!” The T-Rex threw his tinyarms around the mushroom stem and pulled with all his might. After he grunted,Tentomon flew above him and started pulling the cap to help, to no avail.

Hotaru loved miso stew, and she lovedher digimon friends. She wanted to be as big, strong, and intelligent as themsomeday. She pulled on the mushroom stem from the opposite side, and promptlyleaned too far back and fell into the river. The digimon and the adultsshrieked.

“Hotaru!”

“Hotaru!”

“Hotaruuu!”

“HOTARU!”

Taichi was the quickest to reachthe water, and he immediately grabbed the girl and swooped her out of there. Heheld her tight against his chest. Hotaru’s eyes were wide as saucers. Shelooked too stunned to process what had just happened.

“Sweetie, are you all right?”Koushiro’s voice was a little high. He patted her wet hair nervously.

Hotaru realized just howuncomfortable her dress was now that she was wet, and she started crying.“C-cold…”

“You’re cold? I’m so sorry!” Koushirobit his lips and fumbled with his hands.

“You’re safe now. Don’t worry,”Taichi spoke with authority, and Hotaru’s sobs subsided to sniffles withintermittent whines. Taichi handed the child to Koushiro, who wrapped his armsaround her carefully and kissed her head. Hotaru stopped fussing.

“Let’s go home,” Taichi said.Koushiro nodded and started quickly walking back in the direction they hadcome. Taichi wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder, and felt his partnerrelax a bit. Taichi peeked over Koushiro’s head to see that the sun was almostgone. They had missed the most romantic moment of the sunset already.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t get tosee the giant redwoods,” Koushiro murmured. He knew that Taichi had been mosteager to see the truly enormous digital plant life.

Taichi shrugged. “Some other day.”

Agumon and Tentomon both apologizedat the same time, talking over each other. Then Agumon complained that he couldhave yanked out that mushroom if Taichi had evolved him to Greymon, andTentomon piped up that he could make Hotaru dry faster if she was riding onKabuterimon’s back.

“It’s fine! Stop worrying so much!She just needs a bath. We’re almost at the Gate.” Taichi grinned at the pair ofthem, and the mood lightened again. The digimon started chatting with eachother instead. Taichi chuckled and whispered in Koushiro’s ear. “Why did wehave to have kids, eh?”

Koushiro froze, which stoppedTaichi in his tracks. “Um…?”

Taichi blinked. “It was a joke!” Heoffered an awkward smile and gestured to the child-level digimon. “They’re allour kids. Our crazy kids, and I love them all.”

“Oh! Haha.” Koushiro tried laughingand blushed that he didn’t get the joke. It was embarrassing when that stillhappened to him. He continued walking forward and Taichi squeezed his shoulder.“Yeah, I love them too,” Koushiro responded. “I didn’t understand what you weresaying. At first…I thought that you were asking for another one.”

“Another what?”

“Another child.” Koushiro kept hisvoice as low as possible. Though Hotaru didn’t look like she was payingattention. She seemed to be drifting to sleep in his arms.

“What?” That came out louder thanTaichi wanted, but he covered any awkwardness with another laugh. “I see! Nowonder you were confused.”

Koushiro nodded.

Taichi hesitated. “Do you wantanother child?”

“I…” Koushiro furrowed his thickeyebrows. “I’ve actually been thinking…”

Taichi guffawed. “You do?”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean! I-I wasjust thinking the other day of how jealous I used to be of you and Hikarigrowing up. That’s all. And…I don’t want Hotaru to be lonely. Ever.”

Taichi softened. “She won’t be. Shealready has Agumon and Tentomon, and she’ll get her own digimon partner soonenough. She’ll make plenty of friends too. I promise.”

“Right. I know that you can definitelyhelp her in that area. You’ve always been helpful in that area. Friendship, Imean.”

“Thanks.” Taichi ran his free handthrough his brown hair, blushing a little. He should probably get it cut againsoon…

“It’s more than that,” Koushirosaid suddenly, his voice more self-assured. “I want to help as many orphans aspossible!”

Taichi nodded, beginning tounderstand. His throwaway joke must have triggered deep-seated issues thatKoushiro had been thinking about for a long time.

“But it was hard enough for me toadopt Hotaru. I got really, really lucky. I was a single clueless collegeprofessor who spent more time with digimon than people. I don’t know if I cango through that stress again. Especially with you in the picture now.”

Taichi stopped moving, and Koushiropanicked.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I didn’tmean that you were bad. Y-you’re really helpful! You’re a much better parentthan I am. I would be so lost without you…” Koushiro stopped talking whenTaichi kissed him.

“You’re a wonderful parent,” Taichiwhispered. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to Hotaru.” He kissed himagain. “And you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He kissed himagain.

“Mmf…” Koushiro felt a littlelight-headed. Even though they had been a couple for over a year now, he stillgot giddy whenever Taichi turned romantic. “Thanks…” Koushiro finally pulledaway, not wanting to make the situation too awkward for the digimon.

“Are you done yet?” Agumon asked,as if on cue. He and Tentomon were hiding behind rocks.

“Yeah! It’s safe to come out!”Taichi yelled. “We reached the Gate!”

Hotaru fussed again, and Koushiroset her back on her feet. She was getting a little too big to be carried. Hesaw that there was, indeed, a monitor-screen gateway just ahead of them,nestled in a sandy bank of the river. Koushiro looked back to Hotaru and Taichiand the digimon. He wished—not for the first time—that they could all stay inthis world instead. The sky was already a velvet blue, filled with a millionnew stars to count…

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”Taichi said. Koushiro nodded.

“I’M COLD!” Hotaru whined.

“Shh. Let’s get you home,” Koushirosaid.

The three humans and two digimonwalked up to computer in the sand bank. Then Koushiro took Hotaru’s left hand,and Taichi took her right hand, and the family opened the portal back to thereal world.

#Taishiro #Taishirou #Taichi Yagami #Koushiro Izumi #Koushirou Izumi #my fanfiction #my writing #my drabbles #150 drabbles challenge #This story is probably more serious than you were anticipating #I personally find comedy to be the most difficult genre haha #In case my writing isn't clear: #My longstanding headcanon for how Taishiro becomes endgame is that Koushiro adopts his daughter and then Taichi moves in with him afterwards #anyway #It's easy for me to see flaws in the story and maybe I'll improve with more practice #But it's the first Taishiro story I've published online and I'm happy that I finally did that! #So thank you very much <3 #transkoushirou #Hotaru Izumi #my ocs

[lord-kikuchiyo-blog]

Speakeasy Tonight: MC/Gerald drabble

Inspired by this @otpprompts​ post and my own strategies for when I can’t frikken sleep.

SPOILERS for Gerald’s route.

A dark, echoing cavern... A thunderous explosion... A shrill scream... Falling to the ground... Can't move, can't see, can't breathe... For the third time in three days, I woke with a start, distressed and disoriented. Even though I knew I was in my bedroom in Uncle Charlie's house, every night my mind went back to that morning at LaSalle Station. How close I came to losing my friends, my lover, my own life. Anxiety crushed my chest, choking me and making my breath ragged. The blankets beside me shifted. Strong, smooth arms draped around my shoulders and pulled me close to a warm chest. “Something wrong, acushla?” Gerry asked quietly. I shook my head and took a deep breath in an attempt to steady my voice. “Just a bad dream. I'm... I'm fine. It's silly.” His grip grew firmer. “Seein’ as you're shakin’ like a leaf in a storm, forgive me not believin’ you.” He tipped my chin up to look at him. Concern darkened his face, lips turned into a frown. “Tell me what happened. I won't laugh.” There was no doubt in my mind that he would keep his promise, but I just couldn't bring myself to speak. It really was silly. It was over, done. Lynch was six feet under and Bea home safe. There was nothing to worry about. “It's nothing,” I said. Gerry just raised an eyebrow. “I'll be fine. Don't worry.” After a moment, he sighed. “Can't say I didn't try,” he said. He clicked the light off and laid back down. I followed suit. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me close, my back flush against his chest. “Is there anythin’ I can do to ease your mind, at least?” he murmured. “Seein’ you like this... Makes me nervous, it does.” I smiled. “Just being here... Holding me, talking to me... It's enough.” He huffed. “Better’n nothin’, I suppose...” A thought came to me. Thunder terrified me and Hazel when we were kids, but Momma would calm us down by telling us about how it was just angels bowling. “Gerry, tell me a story that would put you to sleep.” He must have dozed off, because the reply was slow and slurred. “Whazzhat, ‘cushla?” “Tell me a story.” A long moment of silence followed, long enough that I thought he'd fallen asleep again. But then he spoke, his warm breath tickling the back of my neck. “In ainm an Athar agus an Mhic agus an Spioraid Naoimh...” I didn't understand a word of it, but I didn't need to. Just the sound of his smooth tenor and his touch were enough to soothe my frayed nerves. A reminder that he was here next to me, warm and safe and not dead in the ground, victim of some crazed, delusional gangster. Just thinking about what could have happened to him and Bea made my chest ache all over again, but I just took a deep breath and focused on the song-like lilt of the words. His voice trailed off into a low murmur, eventually stopping altogether. Just as well, as my eyelids were getting heavy and my mind starting to slow. I pulled the blankets tighter around us and took a deep breath. “I love you, Gerry,” I said quietly. He couldn't hear me, but I wanted to let him know anyways. As I drifted off to sleep, I heard a little laugh. “Church always put me to sleep, too.” “What?” He didn't answer right away, instead yawning and burying his face in my neck. “Too tired to think of a story, so I jus’ recited a Mass... Been years since I set foot inna church an’ yet I still remember it... A funny thing it is, memory...” Any other time and I'd have been annoyed, but I was too close to sleep to care. I'd give him what for in the morning.

Thank you for reading!

#gerald o'fallon #ice box flapper #speakeasy tonight #fanfiction #voltage usa #what is it with me and stories about not being able to sleep? #otpprompts