#and then also that apron my aunt gave me the pieces to years ago that I refused point blank to do by hand

[saint--claire]

When I was a little child, there was a particular library book I checked out week after week, endlessly renewing it as much as I was able. The book, How to Raise and Keep a Dragon by John Topsell was a quasi-nonfiction guide to, as you guessed, rearing different species of dragons. I loved it. Tiny-me had plans.

As an adult, I tried to buy it a few times. No dice. The book was so old that no mainstream bookseller stocked it. Even when I tried niche websites recommended by various booksellers and librarians, I still couldn't find it. It was sadly lost to time, apparently not popular enough to make it into the archives.

But.

My best friend had a copy of that book. We're going to call her G, for several reasons not relevant at the moment. I was discussing my search with G one day, for some reason I can't remember now. She got a funny look on her face, asked me a few questions about the cover, listened to me do a very poor job of explaining with my hands how the hardcover copy had included a real gemstone in the dragon's forehead, and then went off to fish it out of her bookcase.

I was Gobsmacked.

I should not have been, given that the history of shared childhood books between us both would have made a circle with ragged edges, more so than a venn diagram, but I digress. The book came home to live in my house for a few months, and I was delighted by the chance to read it again.

Do people remember those type of books? Dragonology, Egyptology, The Stone Age - a way of introducing children to non fiction. They very earnestly spoke about the responsibilities needed to raise dragons, the practicalities involved. There was a record of registration you could fill out, if you had carefully considered the information to your self and felt you were responsible enough to to go through with adopting a dragon.

I vaguely remember filling out some of the riddle and puzzle questions in the Dragonology books. I would never have written in John Topsell's book, it was a library book.

But.

When I re-read G's copy at home, smiling over the familiar artwork, I was surprised to turn the page and find the painstaking, somewhat-wonky handwriting staring back at at me. Baby G, with her name spelled out in freshly-joined but still-not-quite-got-the-hang-of-this-yet cursive lettering. Baby G had filled the registration out in her best handwriting, in glittery green gel pen to denote the importance of the document. This was compared to the earlier, less important checklists done in plain black ink.

I read the registration certificate. Smiled. Smiled some more at the names listed for G's dragon, her dam, and her sire - Eragon was also a great book. Go off, Christopher Paolini.

Breed; standard Western Dragon. The box 'miniture' was ticked, to show that G's dragon was of the minature specic variety, rather than a full size dragon. This was, as she would later explain to me, chosen on the basis that baby-G felt it was the more financially responsible choice. Also so she could keep her dragon in her house with her, but we're not there yet.

I looked at that certificate. Looked at it again. Looked at the calendar, and then looked at the sewing machine I had just been given for Christmas.

G celebrates her birthday in January.

The template came first. I studied the different images of the standard western dragon through the book, picked my favourite, and re-drew it to a significantly larger scale.

Inking the design to the fabric, four times over probably took the longest.

I very subtly asked G the next time she was over (after hurling all dragon-related materials in a panic into the depths of my wardrobe) what type of colour dragon she would have, should it come up. As G later said, that type of question from me truly did not register as anything other than a question asked from theoretical interest. I transitioned the topic as discreetly as I could after she answered, and delightfully, my sneakiness went in one ear, out the other, and she forgot I had ever asked until several weeks later.

I enjoyed painting them.

Don't ask me how many mistakes I made through this process. So many. I do already know how to sew, but it's been a long time. I'd been meaning to get back into it for a while.

Given that various aunts and grandmothers and my mother had a knack for calling when I was up to my elbows in either paint or pins, it became a family affair. Each of them peered at the project through face time and offered their advice.

Some of the advice I took, some I didn't. No regrets about sewing it in pink thread. Considerable regrets about accidentally slicing one of the feet in half and having to fix that.

In the end though, she was finished.

I carefully pinned on her name tag, with the name baby-G had chosen with a little blue ribbon. A collar was unacceptable, this is a dragon, people, come on. Dragon's don't wear collars.

I put the book in the box, open to the registration certificate, and put the dragon on top. Wrapped the whole thing up with a bow and then refused to touch it before I sent myself mad trying to fix details that didn't really need to be fixed.

A bit late for her birthday, sure, but there we are. We'd gone for a trip off to nowhere for a weekend, to go try wine made out of blueberries and hike up a waterfall. (And climb on it. And swim in it. It was a very good waterfall).

I gave her the box, informed her she wasn't allowed to keep the box, just the contents (it was the only thing I had that was big enough for me to keep all of my A3 portfolios in, it had only been temporarily-repurposed as dragon housing), and then left the next bit up to the gods.

A surprise, sitting un-awaited for some 15 years in amber, to catch up to baby G and adult G together.

Happy Birthday, baby and adult G.

#StClaire speaks #How to Raise & Keep A Dragon #John Topsell #Joe Nigg #the thing about problems hammers and nails #except in this case it was childhood wishes and sewing machines #and as someone said #you were relearning to sew and you started with THAT? #well no #I started with a scrub hat #which kept the hair out of my face while I painted this #and then also that apron my aunt gave me the pieces to years ago that I refused point blank to do by hand #but yeah #101 mistakes later #and one re-attached foot #pretty happy with her #dragons

[firstfrostfall]

A Cold Lament - Chapter Two

a tommy shelby fanfiction

In the winter of 1918, the Shelby brothers returned home from a war-torn France. In the winter of the following year, the middle brother, Tommy, recognizes an opportunity for his family to move up in the world, and it came in the shape of a misplaced crate of weapons.

In the meantime, per the request of his aunt, he gives a struggling young woman a job.

Little did he know, that like the smell of snow on the wind in late autumn, everything was going to change, and it wasn’t just because of some stolen guns.

Takes place during Season One.

Somehow, Anna had collected quite a bit of jewelry in her twenty-three years of living. She never necessarily went out of her way for it- it would just find its way to her. She was enamored by shiny things. You know, the things that glimmered when you held them in the sunlight the right way. Stones, sea glass, gems. Really whatever she could get her hands on. But she was especially fond of sea glass. She always loved sea glass.

It started off with small things at first, like sea glass, when she was a little girl. Because of this love, Magpie was the nickname her grandmother had given her.

Her grandmother would say things like, be careful, you’ll cut your hands on the sea glass, my little Magpie.

When she got older, more so into her teenage years, she would be gifted with various pieces of jewelry for her birthday or other special occasions. Each piece was beautiful, surely. She couldn’t deny the appeal that came with a pair of diamond earrings, those certainly caught in the light well, but she would’ve been just as happy with a particularly glossy stone from a rocky beach. Jewelry, or whatever stone it was, didn’t have to be expensive, she just liked how they glinted in the light. Like a magpie. She felt quite silly about it.

Nevertheless, she preferred sea glass to anything.

Growing up, she kept her entire collection in an ornately carved hope chest at the foot of her bed. There was no organization, no rhyme or reason for the placement of any of it. Of course, she kept the most expensive pieces tucked away in a separate gaudy jewelry box, nested in swaths of black velvet. The hope chest, on the other hand, was entirely in disarray. Anna liked it that way. It was her big box of things.

She brought the hope chest with her when she went to live with her aunt. It was a nightmare to travel with, surely, but it was hers. For the past year it remained at the foot of the bed she shared with her five other cousins. Living with her aunt and cousins under one tiny roof was an adjustment for her. It was different. The war changed a lot.

The war changed everything.

A family torn apart, and a girl sent packing off to her aunt’s home in an unfamiliar factory city hours from the only home she ever knew.

Anna remembered the day vividly. It was in the middle of summer, 1917, and the trip was dreadfully rainy. She traveled by train and cab to get to Birmingham.

When she eventually arrived at her aunt’s doorstep, she was soaked. The brim of her hat drooped under the weight of the rainwater. She knew her aunt was barely scraping by, she had so much on her plate already, she didn’t need the additional burden of a niece added to that roster. Her aunt had five children of her own, a husband away at war- but Anna had nowhere else to go.

So she stood there, surrounded by luggage and suitcases and trunks full of whatever she had left, waiting for her to answer her pleading knocks. When her aunt did open the door, she quickly ushered her niece in and helped her get settled with all of her belongings.

A few weeks later, word reached them that her uncle died in France. Her aunt was frantic after receiving the news, and understandably so. Not only had she lost her husband, but another source of income for the family. There was no one coming home to work in a factory.

Anna began selling whatever items she could to make extra money to cover the cost of a sixth mouth to feed. She sold dresses, silver hairpins, and combs, shoes, miscellaneous books. She sold almost anything and everything. Her belongings were finite, however, and soon enough, she had sold as much as she could.

Except for her jewelry, except for the hope chest.

She had accumulated enough valuables in the chest to scrounge up a few months rent for her own flat. A shabby little place, not too far from where her aunt lived. She even had a little extra money leftover to tuck away for her family, just enough to help them get by for a little while longer. There would be more space at her aunt’s house now that she was gone, too. More room for her cousins in their bed, one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe.

It pained Anna to look at the chest. It pained her even more to open it. Almost everything she had collected was gone. Of course, she kept a few things, the items that were the most precious to her. An opal ring, a pair of diamond earrings, a golden bracelet, a jar full of sea glass. Each unrelated, but with their own meaning.

There was no point in moping around about it. She could spend another twenty-three years collecting more shiny things.

She was learning to make do with what she had.

Of course, now with her own expenses, she was also learning that her money was finite as well. This made her aunt worry for her terribly.

Finding a job had been difficult, to say the least. She spent hours reading through newspaper after newspaper, clipping away at any job advertisement that she thought she could even remotely qualify for. Most of the time, she wouldn’t receive an interview or would be flat-out rejected on the spot.

It was discouraging- but made sense to her. She really was just a girl, from a village barely anyone had ever heard of before, with a resume that was, to put it plainly, terrible. She never held a job before, and her only experience came from a few accounting courses from a couple of summers back. Truthfully, the courses were something to pass the time, to keep her from boredom while the days were long and hot. She never expected to actually need those skills.

One morning, however, there was a series of frantic knocks at her door. It was no one other than her aunt, giddy and exclaiming that she may have found her a steady job.

“I have a friend from church who can help you,” Her aunt said. “She set up an interview for tomorrow, three o’clock. You’ll be speaking with her nephew. She’ll pick you up from the house. She’s a good woman.”

Anna hugged her aunt tightly at the news, a wave of relief washing over her. Until, she realized, that she wasn’t sure what exactly she was interviewing for. That was when the panic started to settle in.

But alas, when fortune drops something valuable on your lap, it’s best not to question it.

That was where she found herself currently, a few days after the interview, staring at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror while she got ready for her first day. She was brushing through her hair, smoothing out the curls from the rollers she had slept in. The wan morning light made it a soft auburn that curled down past her collarbones.

She had been ready for work since dawn, and truthfully, even before then. She had a hard time sleeping and chalked it up to be a culmination of nerves for the day ahead of her, and the fact that her flat didn’t feel like a home just yet. In time, she hoped it would.

All throughout the night, the floors creaked, and the pipes hissed. She barely had any furniture, except for a wire bed frame and a hand-me-down mattress she had gotten a deal on. She was also pretty sure that the lock on the front door was broken, so she propped up a chair against the knob and hoped for the best.

Despite all of this, for better or worse, this place was her own. It eased the burden on her aunt.

Anna stood by the window while tucking her cream blouse into the waist of her maroon skirt. She spent the better part of her morning ironing out her clothes, desperately trying to ensure that the linen was fine and creaseless. Her iron was one of the things she couldn’t part with. At the very least, she could look her best with it. Or at least try to.

She glanced at the window one last time before slipping her shoes on by the front door, watching as tiny flurries of snow began to fall onto the city below. She smiled.

It was early this year.

Anna promptly knocked on the door to The Garrison at nine o’clock that same morning. The snow was still falling, each flake thick enough to catch in her hair, a contrast of white on red, but soft enough that it would not stick to the ground, instead, it melted on contact with the muddy pavement. Harry, the barkeep, answered the door.

“Miss Caldwell, good morning.” He took a step to the side so she could enter. His face and nose were flushed red, he must’ve arrived not too long ago himself.

“And to you, Mr. Fenton.” She smiled, her breath turning into clouds as she spoke. “Quite the weather we’re having.”

“I’ll say,” He closed the door behind her and turned the lock. “Haven’t seen snow this early since I was a boy.”

“It’s good luck,” She replied while shrugging her coat off. “They say an early snow brings good fortune.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when my toes are freezing off in the morning,” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Follow me, you can leave your things in the back room.”

Once Anna was settled, she stood behind the bar with her own apron tied around her waist, (already stained, mind you) given to her by Harry. The remainder of the morning was another lesson in “making do” for her. The pub wouldn’t be officially open until noon, so this extra time beforehand was for her to get a feel for everything. To put it plainly, it was additional time to practice.

No matter how hard she tried to mask her nerves and keep her composure, it was like she had two left feet. Spilling drinks, forgetting the difference between vodka and gin, pouring a pint incorrectly, and causing the foam to rise over the rim of the glass.

Despite the extra time she had spent on her appearance, smoothing out any wrinkles on her skirt, curling her hair, and flashing a smile at all times- she couldn’t have felt any more out of place, and painfully unprepared. There was so much on the line for her. She had her own place and an aunt who needed financial help. She would keep trying, she didn’t have any other choice.

Harry was kind to her, and as patient as he could be, but it became quite obvious that she was a terrible bartender. Embarrassingly so. Terrible enough that he insisted that she just watch him for the rest of their shift, assuring her that it was for the best.

“It will be a slow night,” He said, wiping down the remnants of the third pint she had spilled. “A good way for you to learn the ropes. Nice and easy.”

Anna nodded, accepting her wounded pride. In the late afternoon and early evening, business was slow. It was quiet, a few patrons here and there ordering a drink or two. She was able to observe Harry interacting with the regulars and took mental notes of what people seemed to like. She thought it was quite pleasant.

Until it wasn’t a slow night.

Evidently, there was a football game earlier in the day, and all of the men came trailing in afterward. The pub became boisterous and loud. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

“Just work on collecting the empty glasses,” Harry motioned with his head to the cluttered tables from across the bar. “I’ll take care of everything up here.”

Anna nodded, typing the apron around her waist tighter. She weaved through the crowds, deftly trying to avoid any leering gazes or comments. Of course, she made quite a few spills, and mentally kicked herself for being so clumsy, for letting her composure waver. In the beginning, she was slow going back and forth from table to bar, but eventually, she was able to get into a rhythm.

She placed the last few glasses on the bartop, exhaling heavily. The pub was finally empty. She glanced down at her blouse. This morning, the linen was freshly pressed and the color of cream, but this evening, however, it was stained with splotches of beer and other liquors. She frowned.

It was late.

Harry wiped a forearm across his brow. “You did well.”

“You’re very kind,” Anna wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “I did terribly.”

He laughed, quite loudly.

“I’ll finish cleaning up here,” He nodded. “You go catch a breath in the back.”

“No, no, let me help with the clean-up. I made most of the mess.”

“You had a long enough day today, and you’ll have a longer one tomorrow.” He smiled, waving her off with his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

Anna walked into the back room and sighed, collapsing onto a chair. She held her face in her hands. Her body ached, her feet especially, and her head throbbed. But more than anything, she was embarrassed. She was tired and wanted to weep. It was silly. Her first day of work and she wanted to cry. She swallowed sharply and stood up, untying the apron from her waist and tossing it over the back of the chair.

There was no point in crying, she would make do.

When she stepped back into the main room, Harry wasn’t alone anymore. It was the man who she spoke to a few days before, Mr. Shelby, standing by the bar with a glass in front of him. A cigarette dangled between two fingers, the smoke curling in the hazy lights above the bar. He didn’t notice her at first, and if he did, he didn’t make it known.

It wasn’t until Harry cleared his throat, that he tilted his head toward her.

Anna glanced down at her beer-stained blouse and grimaced. She certainly felt like a mess, she could only imagine what she looked like. With a sheepish smile, she combed her fingers through her hair and smoothed it all over one shoulder.

“Miss Caldwell,” He nodded.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, folding her coat over her forearm.

“Heading home?” He turned away from her.

“Yes, just about.”

“Mrs. Gray instructed me to walk her home on these late nights,” Harry quickly interjected. She could've sworn Mr. Shelby scoffed at that.

“Ah, waiting on me then?” The other man raised an eyebrow.

“No, no, of course not Mr. Shelby.” Harry’s voice wavered. Anna noticed his eyes widening, like he was nervous, almost.

“I’m sure you’re both tired,” He finished the rest of his drink in one swig, and then fully turned to her. “First day, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Anna could feel her face flushing. A disastrous first day, she thought. “Harry was an excellent teacher.” She could see Harry beaming at that comment.

“Ah,” Mr. Shelby nodded, stacking a few coins beside his empty glass. He placed his cap on his head and tipped the brim to the barkeep, “Goodnight.” He paused for a moment, and then he tilted his head toward Anna. “And to you, Miss Caldwell.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Shelby,” She smiled, her cheeks growing warm. “Thank you again, for this opportunity.”

He hummed in response, shrugging on his coat as he walked to the door.

By the time Harry and Anna had locked up the pub and were outside, Mr. Shelby was halfway down the street. She watched as he walked away, unable to tear her attention away from his retreating form.

As if on cue, it started snowing again. The little white flecks looked more like the ashes that spewed from the factory chimneys.

“This way, Miss.” Harry’s voice interrupted her musings. She blushed, feeling silly for mooning over a man she hardly knew.

Just as she was about to look away, she saw Mr. Shelby stop short. Anna’s heart skipped a beat when he turned around and looked at her from over his shoulder.

All was and quiet and cold.

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 1/11

I can’t believe this day is finally here! I have worked so hard on this, and I am both nervous and excited to post it. This is a re-write of Someone to Watch Over Me. I changed the title because the focus was no longer on Emma’s “imaginary friend” watching over her, but equally on Emma and Killian and how, when, and why the wardrobe brings them together. There’s also a theme about growing up and loss of innocence, which is why I took the title from one of my favorite poems, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. For those of you who loved the original fic, I haven’t done away with little!Emma and little!Killy. As a matter of fact, there’s more of it with parts from Killian’s point of view, where the original was just from Emma’s.

The biggest change in this is that I have completely thrown out canon. Emma and Killian are the same age in this, and the plot focuses on Neverland. I had just finished re-reading Barrie’s Peter Pan with my daughter when I started this, so it became a mixture of Once’s Neverland and Barrie’s. I love how that part in particular came out, and I hope you all do as well!

Massive thanks to the mods of the @captainswanbigbang​ ( @optomisticgirl​ , @phiralovesloki​, @shippingtheswann​ , and @spartanguard​). @optomisticgirl​ in particular helped beta when my original had to bow out and also encouraged me when I doubted myself (enduring really long pms in the process!) @shippingtheswann​, I just don’t have words to express your beta skills in this! Emma and Killian’s relationship as kids would not be what it is without you, for one, and you just overall made me so much better as a writer. @distant-rose​, thank you for encouraging me to write Milah the way I envisioned her and helping me create an awesome pirate crew for Killian. And finally, every single one of you in the discord chat for your constant encouragement, advice, and sprinting.

And now I will shut up and get to the fic! Therefore, tags at the end :)

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons . . .

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical major character death, and attempted rape 

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and eventual positive Millian

Words: about 3k in this chapter

This fic is complete and will be updated every Monday.

Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 10

Emma’s palms are damp with sweat as they clutch the small duffel in her lap. Another social worker, another foster home. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had been nice enough, but their biological sons? Emma shudders as she thinks of their sneering taunts and cruel pranks. She loosens her grip on her duffel bag so she can rub her thumb over the birthmark on the inside of her left wrist. Sometimes the flower-shaped mark becomes red and raw from the nervous habit.

Sighing, she watches the scenery go by outside the car window. Emma tries to keep her mind blank, knowing that getting her hopes up will bring nothing but pain. Yet she can’t help the anticipation swirling in her stomach.

The social worker pulls into a modest gravel drive just off the busy highway. The house looks old, and so does the woman who stands on the porch that spreads across the entire front of it.

“That’s Martha,” the social worker tells Emma, “she’s your new foster mother.”

Emma steps out of the car hesitantly, her eyes trained on her feet. Martha tells her hello, but she only mumbles a response. Instead of looking at her new guardian, Emma takes in the front of the house. Dingy white paint covers cracked shingles, the banister lining the porch is broken in places, and the red brick steps are crumbling at the corners. Emma doesn’t really care about any of that, however. Not when brilliant blooms crowd the ground beside the steps and in front of the banister. Emma reaches her hand out tentatively to feel the soft, blue petals.

“Those are forget-me-nots,” Martha tells her, “they’re my favorite flower.”

“The blue is so bright,” Emma says shyly.

“Aren’t they?” Martha leans down closer to Emma, chuckling as her knees crack. “Despite these old bones of mine, I tend these flowers carefully. Want to know why?”

For the first time, Emma looks directly at Martha, and the woman’s kind hazel eyes put her at ease. She nods silently.

“My Alfred, God rest his soul, gave me a bouquet of these before he left for Korea many, many years ago. Forget me not, Martha.”

The woman chuckles, and Emma tries out a tiny smile. “And you didn’t?”

“No,” Martha says, as she rises, extending a hand to Emma, “and he came home to me. We raised two kids in this old house, and now that he’s gone and my children have moved away, I get a bit lonely. I’d like us to keep each other company, Emma, if you want.”

Blinking in surprise, Emma looks at Martha’s hand, then at her face. She’s never had a foster parent or social worker ask her what she wanted. The question gives her the courage to take Martha’s hand.

Emma examines the woman as she takes her inside and shows her around the house. Martha looks to be in her seventies with brittle gray hair and deep wrinkles. Yet her smile is kind, and her hands are soft as they gently give her slim shoulders a squeeze. The house is at least a hundred years old with cracked, peeling paint, and scuffed hardwood floors. A monstrous, black pot-bellied stove radiates heat from the corner of the main room. Like most old houses, one room leads into the next, and Martha gently steers her through the doorway next to the stove. She tells her this will be the room she shares with Lindsey, the sullen teenager with a permanent scowl on her face. Emma looks around, taking it all in through her wide jaded eyes. There’s a fireplace in this room, but it’s bricked up. A small space heater instead runs in the corner of the room. Martha tells her this used to be the dining room, and a set of French doors line one wall. A long, low piece of furniture sits in front of it to block the door, but through the beveled glass, Emma can see the foyer and the front door that she knows leads out to a massive front porch complete with a swing.

Martha shows Emma her bed, and she’s surprised to find that she gets the larger one. A massive double bed of thick, dark wood with tall posts. Lindsay’s twin bed, just a simple metal frame and mattress sits in front of the room’s one window.

“Lindsay couldn’t sleep in that huge bed, so I got her that cot,” Martha explains with a shrug. She sets Emma’s bag beside the bed and then pulls a small step stool from beneath it. “This thing is so high off the ground, you’ll have to use this to get in. It’s a very old bed.”

Emma eyes the stool and tries to hide how pleased she is with the bed. It’s ornate and obviously an antique. It’s like something out of a movie. She’ll feel like a princess sleeping in that bed. All her life, she’s wanted more than the cots or metal twin beds she usually gets in foster homes. She flings her duffel right on top, lest this Lindsay change her mind and steal the bed away.

But the best thing of all is the wide space between the bed and the hardwood floor. No monsters can lurk there. In this bed, in this room, with Martha who tends flowers despite her creaking bones, maybe she’ll finally feel safe.

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

Martha wears a faded house dress covered in tiny blue flowers and blue terry-cloth house shoes on her feet. She dons an apron to make supper, and Emma thinks of old black and white TV shows. Maybe this place won’t be so bad. Maybe Martha will one day tell her, “I love you, please stay. And why don’t you call me grandma?”

Emma tries to push that fantasy aside. If it doesn’t come true, she’ll be disappointed. Again. Martha asks if she wants to help with supper, and she eagerly agrees. Martha lets her pour the macaroni noodles into the boiling water on the stove, warning her to go slowly so she doesn’t burn herself. She then lets Emma stir the noodles so they won’t stick together while she expertly chops an onion into tiny pieces.

“These are the chicken pot pies,” she explains next, handing Emma a fork. She shows Emma how to slowly poke the fork into the crust to make each family member’s initials. Emma grins as she presses the fork into hers, then turns the fork sideways to make three more straight lines. “E” for Emma.

Martha’s kitchen table is of chipped formica that was probably once a bright blue but is now faded. The metal chairs with matching blue leather seats are like something out of the 1950s. Emma sits at the table with Martha and the other foster children the woman has taken in. Besides Lindsay and Emma, there’s also a little boy named Tyler with wide eyes and a sad, fearful face. His parents and sister were killed in a car accident, and he’s only here temporarily while his aunt and grandparents argue over who gets to keep him. Emma has a hard time imagining family, much less one who will want you so badly they would fight about it.

Martha hands Tyler a little plastic box shaped like a loaf of bread. She tells him to take out a card and pass it around the table. On each is a Bible verse, and they can’t eat until they’ve each read one. Lindsay rolls her eyes but does as Martha asks anyway.

Emma’s verse reads, “When my father and my mother forsake me; then the Lord will take me up.”

Martha takes a surprising interest in hearing about each child’s day. Lindsay’s eye rolling, Tyler’s quiet sadness, and Emma’s nervousness doesn’t phase the woman at all. After the meal, everyone helps clear the table and do the dishes. It’s a small kitchen, and several times Martha bumps softly into Emma or brushes against her. Each time, the woman laughs and gives her a tentative side hug. When she does, the elderly woman’s scent washes over Emma. It’s a distinctive smell that Emma can’t quite place, but it’s comforting and makes Emma want to bury herself in a bear hug with the woman. However, she refrains. She can’t seem too eager; it might scare Martha and then she won’t want to keep her.

The bathroom in this house is in an odd place: off the kitchen. When Emma goes to brush her teeth, she sees two jars on the pedestal sink. Inside one is a pinkish cold cream, and in the other is powder with a fat, fluffy puff resting on top. Emma lifts both to her nose and sniffs deeply. Yes, the combination of the two. That’s Martha’s scent. Emma eyes the makeup puff as she screws the top back on the cream. She simply can’t resist it, she lifts the puff and starts patting the powder onto her face. She starts and almost drops the puff when Martha suddenly steps into the room. Emma wilts. This will be her shortest stay at a foster home ever. A new record. She waits silently, heart pounding, for the yelling, frustration, and inevitable punishment.

But a smile simply deepens the crows feet around Martha’s eyes as she chuckles softly. She wets a washcloth and swipes it across Emma’s face.

“This pretty face doesn’t need makeup,” she tells her with a sparkle in her eye. “Of course,” she continues, “pretty is as pretty does.”

Emma cocks her head to one side and wrinkles her forehead, “What does that mean?”

Martha pats Emma’s cheek gently, “It means our hearts are what make us truly beautiful. The way we treat people and the things we do are far more important than what we look like.”

Relief washes through Emma when it sinks in that the woman isn’t going to punish her or even yell. Lessons on true beauty aren’t exactly what Emma is used to in a foster home, and she’s not quite sure how to accept it. Martha helps her off the stool, then takes her hand. She leads her to her room, tucks her in, and says a short prayer. Emma bites her bottom lip, wanting so badly to request a hug, but afraid to do so.

“Could I give you a hug and kiss good night?” Martha asks, and Emma thinks that the old woman looks just as nervous as Emma asking.

Emma beams and pulls her arms out from under the covers. The woman gives her a good, firm hug. Over her shoulder, Emma notices for the first time a large, ornate piece of furniture in the corner. There are a large set of doors in the top half, and two drawers on the bottom.

“What is that?” Emma asks in a shaky voice, pointing, when Martha releases her from the hug.

“It’s a wardrobe,” the woman explains, as she tucks the blankets back around Emma. “Old houses didn’t have closets, so people put their clothes in those.”

Emma says nothing as Martha brushes a kiss to her forehead and tells her goodnight, but she eyes the wardrobe warily. It’s the perfect place for monsters. She squeezes her eyes shut as Martha brushes her hair back from her face. Emma tries to tell herself that the boys at the last place were probably making things up. There’s no such thing as monsters . . . right? Yet she can’t forget the panic that had clawed at her when she was locked in that dark room . . .

“Sleepy, huh?” Martha chuckles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma lets her believe she is, waiting to open her eyes after the woman is gone.

A few minutes later, Lindsay comes in, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. Instead of pajamas, she’s dressed in tight jeans and a skimpy tank top. Emma sits up in bed and watches curiously as the teenager slips into a pair of boots.

“What are you doing?” Emma asks as Lindsay slowly and quietly opens the window.

“None of your business, kid,” she snaps, tossing a backpack out the open window. “Just don’t snitch. Got that?”

Emma nods as she pulls the blanket to her chest. Why should she care what Lindsay does? The teenager disappears out the window, and Emma falls back against the mattress with a sigh. She can’t remember the last time she had a room all to herself, and it makes her a little nervous.

She eyes the wardrobe warily, sitting up in bed and scrambling back against the headboard. She clutches the handmade quilt Martha had tucked around her in sweaty fists. Did it just creak open a little? She squints in the dark. Through the open slit of the wardrobe, she swears she sees a pair of bright blue eyes, the color of the forget me nots in Martha’s yard, looking at her. She gasps and throws the covers over her head. She counts to twenty slowly, squeezing her eyes shut. The wardrobe door makes another long, rusty sound. After another count to twenty, she slowly eases her head out of the covers.

The wardrobe door is shut tight.

Killian: Age 10

The sea is calm as glass, the air still and stifling. The sailors are antsy and on-edge, praying to every deity for wind. Rowers are sent to the galley every day to make some headway, and it’s exhausting work. Killian isn’t big or strong enough at just ten years of age, but Liam, at twelve, is. The elder Jones collapses into his bunk each night with sore arms and blistered hands. Killian prays the wind comes soon so he can have his brother back.

Perhaps his absence is why Killian’s mind is so distracted lately with thoughts of ginger curls and hazel eyes. His mother’s touch was always so gentle, her voice soft and lilting, her smile and eyes bright. He remembers her being sick; her eyes losing some of their brightness, and her laughter coming less often. But she still smiled. She still held him whenever he crawled into her sick bed. She still kissed him with her soft lips.

Killian remembers she would sing, too, with that lilting voice that was so different from his father’s deep, critical one. Every night, he was lulled to sleep by her lullabies. He begins to sing one now as he knots rope.

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the Fair

And fondly I watched her

Move here and move there

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake

As the swans in the evening

Move over the lake

Killian jumps as an empty bottle of rum shatters against the railing to his right.

“Shut up, boy, and get back to work!”

But to Killian’s surprise, the other sailors yell at the first to leave him alone. The lullaby reminds them of home, they say, so let the boy sing. And sing he does, passing the long, weary, windless days. The sailors who normally terrorize him are lulled by the bright, clear voice that only a child can possess. It changes the morale of the crew to such an extent, that the captain even sends him below to encourage the rowers with his songs. That is the best development of all, for now he’s near his brother; the only family he has.

A few nights later, Killian Jones can’t seem to get comfortable in his hammock. The ship creaks and sways, men snore loudly all around him, and the air smells, clogging his nose and making him gag. Nevertheless, his days are so brutally exhausting that sleep comes swiftly. Even last week when he was forced to sleep on his stomach because of the bloody lashes criss-crossing his back, sleep had claimed him easily.

But not tonight.

He shifts again, his hammock swinging with the motion. In his new position, he sees something in the hold that is completely out of place: a large, wooden wardrobe. No one would keep such a nice piece of furniture in the damp, dark hold. Killian furrows his brow in confusion - the large, bulky thing isn’t even moving an inch as the ship sways, which should be impossible, and it surely wasn’t there when he first went to bed.

“Liam, Li-am!” he whispers, poking at the hammock above him. Liam just mumbles in his sleep, something partially intelligible along the lines of leave me alone, Killy. Exasperated, Killian huffs and swings his scrawny legs over the edge of his hammock. He moves silently and cautiously across the wet wooden boards, his hand trembling as he reaches up to grasp the knob on the door of the wardrobe. He opens it a crack and gasps when he hears voices, female voices, on the other side. He glances behind him, but when he sees that no one else is awake, he crawls up inside the wardrobe. It is deeper than he expected it to be, and instead of a back, there is another set of doors. Killian is comforted to still see the ship’s hold through the open door he just crawled through, so he turns back around and pushes slowly on the second set of doors, opening them only a little.

He sees a bedroom, lit with soft light from a bedside lamp. A little girl about his age, with blonde hair the color of buttercups is being tucked into bed by a soft, wrinkled old woman with a gentle smile. Killian watches, fascinated, as the woman asks for a hug. He’s been surrounded by nothing but rough, loud men for so long, that he yearns to receive a hug for himself from someone so soft and warm. The little girl smiles as the woman embraces her, her eyes shut tight as she relishes the hug. But then her eyes, the color of seafoam, open and he quickly shuts the wardrobe as quietly as he can. His heart pounds in his chest as he hears the little girl ask the woman – her grandmother? – about the large piece of furniture. The girl’s voice wobbles as if she’s frightened, and Killian hopes she didn’t see him.

He thinks that maybe he should go back to his hammock, but he can’t get those sea green eyes out of his mind, nor the way the girl’s hair had shimmered like gold from the lamplight. He’s never thought long on any lass, or found any of them pretty. Most women he sees on his occasional stops in port are loud, brazen, and considerably older. This one, however, is different. She’s his age, for one, and there’s a softness about her that he hasn’t known since his mother was living. So finally, he musters up the courage to open the door a crack once more. This time, those green eyes lock on his, and the girl gasps and dives under the covers. He frowns as he pulls the door shut once more. He hadn’t meant to frighten her.

The next morning, he thinks he’ll talk to Liam about the wardrobe and the little girl on the other side. But when his brother teasingly upends his hammock, depositing him unceremoniously upon the floor, Killian rolls over to find the wardrobe is gone.

tagging: @snowbellewells​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @kmomof4​ @teamhook​ @bethacaciakay​ @let-it-raines​ @welllpthisishappening​ @wellhellotragic​ @courtorderedcake​ @xhookswenchx​ @vvbooklady1256​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @carpedzem​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @winterbaby89​ @hollyethecurious​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @kday426​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @lfh1226-linda​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @shireness-says​ @superchocovian​ @scientificapricot​ @tiganasummertree​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @branlovestowrite​ @snidgetsafan​ @thislassishooked​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @jennjenn615​ @nikkiemms​

#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs canon divergence #cs neverland au #childhood sweethearts #angst #soul mates #magic wardrobes #little!emma #little!killy

[doctorwhoformybestie]

Anon asked,

hello, could you write something with eleven where he takes the reader to an amusement park or something of the like on another planet and they spend the day there? maybe aliens show up, I don’t know, up to you! thanks love :)

So here's my best shot! I hope you enjoy it!

11th Doctor x reader

Visiting Childhood Places

The Doctor takes y/n to his favorite place in the whole wide galaxy.

Word Count 2,018

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"Doctor, where are we going today?" You asked as you leaned your back against the railing. 

"Oh I thought, we could go somewhere fun today!" He looked over to you smiling from the control panel. 

Usually when the Doctor says, "fun" he means, "go to another planet and get accidently caught by aliens and sent to jail". So when you gave him a skeptical look he was not surprised to see it coming from you. Many times you were told places would be fun. Meeting Christopher Columbus was supposed to be fun and it was, until the doctor found out that Chris was just a clone who was part of some ancient alien race trying to take over the new colonie. Then that led to more danger and big spaceships. But in the end everyone was okay and ended up alive, and all of history was put back into place. 

The Doctor just smiled at you, "trust me this one won't be as bad as the times before." 

"I'll be the judge of that" you replied with a sly grin and a wink. 

He laughed it off and started pulling levers and twisting knobs. The Tardis started making its iconic wooshing sound. You held onto the railing and was laughing as the Doctor jumped from here to there to get the spaceship to travel to wherever you were going. 

As the Tardis settled down, the Doctor was ecstatic. He ran over to you with a happy smile, grabbed your hands and twirled you around. 

You were astounded by his giddiness over one place. The last time he was this happy was when he learned to rollerskate. You had the biggest smile on your face as he twirled you around in a few more circles. 

"Are you ready?" He asked as he stopped spinning you and took one of your hands. 

You nodded your head and his eyes lit up. You followed the Doctor to the door of the Tardis. 

"Now, when I say fun, this is what I mean. I haven't been here in hundreds of years!" 

He swung open the door and stepped out with you right behind him. 

"Welcome to the biggest amusement park on the planet Aerelia. Where all aliens can come together and have some fun!" 

You looked at the place amazed. The whole place was like a human amusement park but 10 times bigger. There were rollercoasters, some with tracks some without. Food vendors everywhere, selling treats from all sorts of different planets around the galaxies. Aliens of all sorts were walking up and down the long walkways. Some of the aliens you could recognize were the ood, slitheen, adipose, and vinvocci, but there were a lot more that you did not know. Balloons and what looked to be cotton candy were being sold by some aliens walking around the park as well.

"Doctor this place! It's just incredible!" You exclaimed.

His eyes darted from one thing to the next like a child in a candy store. He started walking and you went along with him as both of your hands were glued to each other. 

It was like walking in a wonderland filled with all sorts of delights and games, rides that you've never seen before that look quite scary. 

"I was never fond of those ones" the Doctor would say as he pointed up to the huge roller coasters that floated above and around you. Some flipping people upside down while others just flashed before you like a speed of light.

"Are you telling me you're actually scared of something Doctor?" 

"Well, not really. Just found other things around here to fill my time with." He smiled at you with eyes that were filled with kindness.

"Okay then Doctor. Show me what a normal day would be like here if you were a kid?" 

His smile got much wider and he seemed to accept the challenge.

"One must first partake in the eating of a fried zigtobno." 

"A what?" 

"A fried zigtobno. It's quite delicious really! Somewhat of a funnel cake as they would call it on Earth." 

You gave him a confused look as he led you down the aisle of food vendors, surrounding you on both sides. Many of the places had small lines, but the one the Doctor was leading you to had no line at all. 

It was a small yellow shack that had a sign above it that said 

~FRESH FRIED ZIGTOBNO~

The alien inside was a small creature with 4 tentacles running down its face. It looked like a small ood but with a shrimp like head with a human body. It had what seemed to be a thick layer of flour all over his apron, and when he moved the flour seemed to move with him like a ghost. 

"Ahh Herbert my good pal! How's it been?" The Doctor flew his hand onto the counter and Herbet flew his hand on top of the Doctors. They did a very interesting hand shake that consisted of fistbumps, finger snaps, a pinky promise and at the end the Doctor made a bird call while the Shrimp man (or whatever he was) just put his hand up to his eyes and covered them.

After the complex ritual, Herbet and the Doctor started laughing. 

"Good to see ya old pal! What can I get for you and your lovely misses today?"

You slightly blushed at the choice of words this Shrimp man had said. 

"Just one fresh fried zigtobno please!" 

Herbert smiled and whipped around to fix up a zigtobno. Although you couldn't see what exactly he was making it sure did smell good. 

"How long have you known Herbert?" You asked out of curiosity.

"Oh just around 400 years or so. Great pal. He saved me from a trash can falling on me once. That's the day I fell in love with his food stand. Never wanted any other food than fresh fried zigtobno." He stood there with his eyes closed smelling the sweet smell that was coming from the little shed. 

"One order for you Doctor." 

The Doctor was reaching inside his pocket but before he could pull out anything Herbert just said, "Don't worry about it. This one's on me." 

The Doctor smiled and patted Herbert on the arm. "Thanks friend. I owe you one!" He smiled and grabbed the zigtobno and walked over to a bench, sitting where you could look off at all the rides in the area. 

The zigtobno was not what you were expecting. It had a cinnamon roll type texture but it was in one big heaping like an elephant ear. The powder that was on top of it consisted of pastel colors that luminated in the sunshine. 

"Here you have the first bite." The Doctor said as he held the paper plate the food was on. 

You tore off a piece and it was slightly gooey on the inside. Not sure if it was completely baked or it was supposed to be like that you took a bite anyways. 

Your eyes light up like a million stars, as you tasted the pastry. The dough tasted as though a fresh warm baguette, with the powder as cool strawberries all mixed with a slight chocolate flavor hinting on the tip of your tounge. 

"This is the best food I've ever had. Like better than Aunt Cindy's raspberry tart she makes for Christmas." 

The Doctor laughed as you quickly reached for another piece and ate it quickly. He joined in as well and ate the simple pastry made by the Shrimp man Herbert.

Once you were both done eating, the Doctor continued to show you around a few more of his favorite places. Some of which were the center drama, where mini plays were put on throughout the day. The one you ended up watching was like a Romeo and Juliet spin-off. Instead of them both dying they just left Earth with some aliens and started a whole new colony. The Doctor thought it was fantastic while you on the other hand thought it could have been a little less cliche. But come on, it's Romeo and Juliet we're talking about. 

He also showed you some of his favorite rides like the flying dragons, which you could control going up and down. And let's be honest the Doctor did most of the controls himself.  Another ride was more like a simulation of whether you could get out in 10 minutes or not. And again he did most of the work for that one as well.

But as the day went on the night started to fall and it was getting quite late. You were getting slightly tired from all the fun you've been having, but the Doctor had one more thing purposefully planned put. (Apparently it's been planned for quite some time. But you know time travel and how that all works, and let's be honest he probably wandered off to run to the Tardis and do this because he just thought of it like 2 seconds ago)

The sky was almost fully dark and the stars were shining brightly. The Doctor led you to one last ride, a ferris wheel. 

He checked his watch and started mumbling under his breath. "Right. Now just wait a few more ticks and then we should be good to go." 

You kept giving him sideways glances as you walked up to the large ferris wheel. 

"Did you know that this was built only 200 years ago, and it still runs to this day!" You could tell he was getting nervous. Spilling out random facts about random things was what he did when he got nervous. Yet you had no idea why he was so scared over one ride on the ferris wheel. Didn't he want to go on it? Was he that afraid of heights?

With a slight "hmm" the Doctor seemed to settle down a bit and slowly started to relax more. 

When you reached the line the doctor handed the ticket taker 2 very old fashioned tickets. The ticket taker smiled and then winked at me as we entered the cart. 

When the Doctor walked in he turned around to see what my reaction would be. 

The cart was filled with fuzzy blankets, a tub of popcorn, and a giant zigtobno placed on the seats across from us. The Doctor smiled as he saw my eyes light up with joy. 

"Did you do all of this?" 

"Oh possibly. Maybe it was the past me, or the future me, hard to tell sometimes." He smiled and sat down on the right side of the cart. You joined him and then the wheel started turning up. 

When the wheel was at the very tippy top it stopped. You could see the whole sky from up there. Galaxies and stars could be seen from up here. 

Soon shooting stars started to light the sky. 

"Doctor this is amazing!" 

He smiled as the stars were passing the both you from up above. 

"Tonight marks the 500th year anniversary of the legend of Mika and Woo. The ones the play were about."

Ahh yes the cringy Romeo and Juliet play that you watched earlier that day. 

The Doctor slowly placed his arm around your shoulder as he continued talking. 

"Legend has it that once that Mika and Woo landed on an abandoned planet they started their own colony. Representing peace for all alien races. That's what this place represents, peace for all to come together as one."

"That's just beautiful Doctor" 

"I know isn't it?" He turned his head every so slightly to get a glimpse of your amazed face. 

You slowly put your head down on his shoulder, the Doctor tensed up a bit not knowing what to do. But as minutes went on he started to relax. 

About 10 mins later you were out asleep, from such a long day you had the Doctor did not blame you. 

He gently placed a soft kiss on top of your head and then continued to fall asleep himself. 

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A/N thanks so much for reading I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any requests please feel free to pop a question!

#matt smith #eleventh doctor #hottie #11th doctor #doctor who #tardis #time travel #11 doctor #best friend #hot model #doctor who imagine #doctor who fanfic #doctor who gifs #11th doctor x reader #reader insert #doctor who x reader #fanfic

[beclynn-herondale]

Next gen of Shadowhunters and Downworlders.

( the world and Jace, Clary, Mina belong to Cassandra Clare.)

Chapter - 5 And now the Journey Begins.

New York Institute, 2030.

Charlie was walking down the hall to the kitchen in the Institute, her Mama and Papa were home today and when they were they had a family breakfast together whenever they can. Their family breakfasts are usually filled with laughter and goofiness and these times are some of her most precious memories, and Mina was here to. In fact she moved into the New York Institute a couple months ago to be Closer to Charlie.

Mina and Charlie were Parabatai and before they became Parabatai they were very close. Charlie holds her Parabatai with great affection and love, she's Charlie's best friend, she's like another big Sister, she knows Charlie well and understands her, she supports Charlie when she needs it. Oh wait- Charlie thought I am talking in Third person again, well hello old friend. She thought to herself.

She walked into the kitchen and saw her mom flipping pancakes and her dad sitting at the table with her younger siblings and was being silly with Alaxa and she was laughing, it made Charlie smile she loved her parents so much, they were always supportive of her and her siblings no matter what. When she came out as bisexual they accepted her and acted like it was her saying she her age and they loved her and her siblings so much and make it a happy and loving home for them. She looked around the table and saw her little brother Stephen the second third oldest out of them he was reading like he always was when he wasn't training or playing with their younger siblings, Amira was the oldest technically, she was adopted into the family when charlie was 3 and Stephen was 1 and a half, and she's been their big sister ever since, she is half faerie and half shadowhunter and beautiful but some still think she is unfit not only because of her faerie blood but because her parents were law breakers, Charlie thought they were idiot's Amira has given so much to the Clave and they should appreciate her for it.

She looked over at her younger sister Tessa she was born after Stephen and looked almost exactly like their dad if he was a female, she was reading about old swords and that didn't surprise Charlie she was like their dad to obsessed with swords. Not that Charlie had room to talk she was to. She then looked over at the first pair of twins as she walked over to the table and sat down, as she did her dad said good morning sunshine, how are you today?. I am good papa thanks! Jamie looking up from whatever it was she was doing said Good morning!! Big sis. Jamie was Will's twin they were born two years after Tessa was and they looked like her late twin Ella did, Black hair that was unruly, pale skin, they had their mama's freckles though. Jamie had orange gold eyes, while Will had green like their mama's and hers as well. They were beautiful and would grow up to be good looking people. All her siblings would. Then there was the other pair of twins, Matthew and Celine, Matthew was ignoring everyone like he usually did, paying attention to his book about bugs while eating a pancake, Celine was watching their dad and Alaxa play. Alaxa was saying something about how she loved dad this much And that It was more then him, and their dad said that's not possible because he's bigger so his love for her equals more and Charlie couldn't help but laugh at that.

And Edmund was joining in and saying what if me and Lexy both combined our love for you papa and then we would have more and her dad said nope I love you both more. Her mom came over with a plate of pancakes and said me and your dad love you all more because you all are precious and our babies so there now finish eating ok! And Charlie was Min Min awake when you got up?. Yes, she was showering last I checked said Charlie.

-

Mina was coming into the kitchen as she heard her name and looked up and Said I am right here Aunt Clary, Clary looked up and gave her her warm motherly smile that made whoever saw it want to smile as well and Mina did. Good morning! Min Min said Clary, I made pancakes help yourself to as many as you want there's plenty she said as she was taking her apron off. Good morning Mina. Said her uncle Jace. How are you?. I am good thank you! Said Mina.

Charlie jumped on Mina and gave her a hug and said the beautiful Mina has arrived at last we are all saved! Everyone started laughing and Mina said my silly Parabatai you. Charlie was also supporting Mina and her Charlie. Some thought they were a couple because they showed their love for each so easily but they weren't they just weren't afraid to show how much they love each, Charlie's girlfriend Mari didn't appreciate it though and would say no that fine piece of Herondale ass is my girlfriend you fool. And Mina and Charlie would always laugh at how protective and loving Mari was to Charlie. Mari was the daughter of Mark Rosales-Blackthorn and Cristina Rosales-Blackthron, they ran the shadowhunter/downworlder alliance.

Her and Charlie sat down and both ate breakfast then headed to the training room with Stephen and Tessa, while Will and Jamie headed to go research Science and Medical information, and the younger ones went off with their parents to do stuff. Mina missed her family after moving to new York but she loved being with her Parabatai. And her Parabatai's siblings were like siblings to Mina as well.

(Okay this is short I know and hopefully the next chapter will be longer. I apologize I have writers block and I am thinking through how to word the story so please be patient, 🧡🧡)

#jace herondale #clary fairchild #[ oc] charlie herondale #[ oc ] stephen herondale #[ oc ] tessa herondale #[ oc ] will herondale #[ oc ] jamie herondale #[ oc ] celine herondale #[ oc ] matthew herondale #[ oc ] edmund herondale #[ oc ] alaxa herondale #[ oc ] amira herondale #mina carstairs #tessa grey #jem carstairs #tsc #the shadowhuter chronicles #tmi #the mortal instruments #tda #the dark artificies #[ oc ] marisa rosales-blackthron #twp #the wicked powers #my story #my wriitng #the fairchild-herondale family #clace #mine

[elsword-x-aisha-oneshots]

Happy Birthday

Class:

Elsword (Knight Emperor)

Aisha (Aether Sage)

Story:

(In celebration of Elsword and Aisha’s Birthday, December 27th)

Snoring, Elsword was sleeping on his bed back in Elder. He and his friends had saved the world and brought peace in the future between Humans, Elves, Nasods and Demons as well. Chung and Ara went back to Hamel to heal the king and Ran and restore the kingdom to it’s glory; Eve and Add went to back to Altera to rebuild the Nasod Empire and commit to an alliance with Velder and Hamel. Laby, Lu and Ciel stayed in the demon world to restore Lu’s status as queen, as well as starting up a treaty to end all skirmishes against human and other races. Rose returned to her world and continued her duty, however she would tend to come visit once in a while to see her friends. Elesis returned to Elder along with her brother Elsword and continued training more Red Knights in the future. Ain disappeared shortly after the El was restore, his mission was complete and he was no longer needed; they felt sadness when he was dusting away; but not Elsword. Instead, he smiled and said, “This isn’t goodbye, we’ll meet again someday, I promise.” Ain smiled as he drift away, agreeing to everything he said. Raven headed back to Elder to continue as a mercenary, but received a pardoned from Velder and was invited to be the commanding general of the Velder knights. Raven at first was not excited to be in Velder, after everything that happened to him; however, Rena said she’ll be with him and support him to the end, so he accepted with Rena being his second-in-command.  As for Aisha...

“ELSWORD!”

Elsword immediately woke up from the yelling downstair.

“Breakfast is getting ready! You better not be still in bed!”

Elsword sigh.

“I’m coming!”

Elsword got up and put on a red shirt as he went downstair to see Aisha, with her cream white sweater and purple skirt and apron, making breakfast for the two in the kitchen.

“Elesis went to the training ground to check up on the gears for training so I already made breakfast for her, she’ll be back in a bit, you know she wouldn’t miss today for the world.”

“Really? Even if there was whole invasion?” He joked. Elsword knew Elesis wouldn’t miss today for the world.

After all, it’s December 27th, Elsword and Aisha’s birthday.

You’re wondering why Aisha is there too? Well, after everyone started heading their separate ways, Aisha was gonna go back to her hometown. But Elsword stopped her for a second.

During their adventures, Elsword developed feelings for her, so he wanted to tell her how he felt. He would love to be with her forever, but he knew she must follow her path. As they say their goodbyes, Aisha felt uneasy. She too fell in love with him and knew what she must do. 

Afterward, she finished her business at her hometown and went toward Ruben. When Elsword saw her, she leaped toward him and kissed him, returning the love he gave her.

that was three years ago, now the two are married (He proposed on their birthday) and living happily in Ruben, with Elsword soon to become captain of the Red Knights and Elesis home guiding him to be a better leader. 

Elsword leaned toward Aisha and hugged her from behind, kissing her neck with love.

“I miss you in bed...”

Aisha blushes at the gesture of love. The two lovers still bicker and argue like their old selves, but most of them it’s playfully. And sometimes at night they get... well you get the idea. 

Elsword continue giving kisses to Aisha from behind, while his hands continue to roam around her waist, slipping underneath to feel her creamy skin that he desires to feel. No matter how many times he holds her, he never gets enough of her scent and feeling. Heck, despite joking about her chest, he loves her no matter what size she is.

“It’s almost noon, Elsword. We had to get up, I am not gonna celebrate our birthday; AS WELL AS, our anniversary,” Aisha yelled, despite loving the sensation from Elsword’s hands. Aisha tries to deny it, but she loves the way Elsword holds her and pleasure her with his hugs and kisses. What? Were you thinking of something else? Well... they are married... and living in the same house... BUT, Elesis is also living there, so no funny business... most of the time...

 “Now go sit down while I finish up breakfast.”

Later, Elsword and Aisha headed out to get some grocery for tonight’s event. It is their birthday, so many of their friends are visiting to celebrate it. However, Aisha has a special surprise for Elsword. After they gone to the market and grabbed what they needed, Elsword spoke.

“Hey Aisha?”

Elsword and Aisha rested at a park nearby and sat at a bench.

“You know, you being here with me, really made me the happiest man alive. I still can’t believe that you gave up your search for that ring just to stay here with me.”

“Elsword you dummy,” Aisha smiles as she puts a hand on his cheeks, “That ring may have taken most of my power, but you and everyone else have given me something more precious than my power...”

Aisha leaned in and kissed Elsword.

“...it’s love.”

Elsword sat there dumbfounded, he can never get use to Aisha’s kisses despite being married for a couple years now. He leaned toward her and rested his forehead toward hers. The two sat comfortably as they watch kids play around in the park.

“You know, I bet you’d make an amazing mother, Aisha.” Elsword said jokingly; however, deep inside, he hoped that it’ll become a reality. 

“And you’d make a good father, hopefully,” Aisha giggled. 

“Oh that reminds me,” Elsword grabbed a box out of his pocket, “Happy birthday and anniversary.”

He opened the box and revealed ear pieces with a small jewelry of Amethyst, Aisha’s favorite.

She gasp at the beauty of them. “Elsword...”

“I wanted to give something special to my princess. So I went to Elder to find this mineral and have it carved for you. Do you like it?”

Aisha smiled lovingly at him.

“I love it, you big dork.”

Elsword sigh in relief, glad that she loved the gift.

The two was at blissful peace before they realized it’s getting late and had to get back home. Elesis will be coming home a bit later today, mostly because she was told to wait a bit longer from Aisha. She has a special surprise for him.

“Elsword, can you put the groceries in the kitchen? I need to get something from the back,” Aisha asked.

Elsword agreed to put the groceries away and cleaned up a bit as well.

“Okay Aisha, it’s all good now... Aisha?”

As Elsword was gonna go look for her, she was already at the living room, holding a small present for Elsword.

“Happy Birthday and Anniversary, Elsword.”

“Aisha, you didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Aisha interrupted, “But I want to; I wanted to give you this for a long time, and now, it’s time I give it to you.”

Aisha handed him the present. “Go ahead, open it.”

Elsword unwrapped the present and was revealed a box. He opened a box and found shoes inside, however, they were too small for his size.

Elsword looked confused.

“Hey Aisha, I think you got my size, these one look like they can only fit on bab-”

It was at that moment that Elsword understood the gift’s meaning. Dumbfounded, he dropped the box and grabbed Aisha.

“Is it true?! A-are you really...?”

Aisha smiled and nodded.

with that gesture as his answer, tears started falling down as he grabbed her on the waist and spun her around lovingly. He started chanted, “We’re gonna be parents!” while Aisha laugh and agreed.

After a moment has passed, Elsword hugged her.

“Thank you...” He said. “You’ve given me so much, your trust, your love; and now, a family.”

“Oh you big dummy,” Aisha replied. “You gave me just the same. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you. You gave me courage, trust and love. You showed me that there’s more to that than just my powers. I love you Els.

Aisha kissed Elsword passionately, never letting each other go.

As the two continue embrace each other’s presence, the front door opened, revealing Elesis coming home.

“Ah, I take it you finally gave him your surprise?”

Aisha let go and nodded, “Yeah, and he loves it.”

“Well then, now can you tell me what it is?”

Elsword and Aisha laugh as Elesis was confused as to what was Aisha’s surprise.

Elsword insisted her to tell.

“Elesis,” Aisha answered. “You’re gonna be an aunt!”

Elesis took a minute to process what Aisha said...

...Then ran toward the two.

“YOU’RE GONNA BE PARENTS!” She yelled, crying tears of joys.

“I’M GONNA BECOME AN AUNT!”

Already, she was committing herself to a life of being the most lovable and protective aunt in the world, possibly universe.

Only one thing was certain.

Elsword can not wait to tell his friends the news.

THE END

For now...

A/N:

Happy Birthday to these two lovable dorks!

I hope to see more romance between these two in the future! THEY MUST BE CANON!

#elsword #elsword x aisha #elsword and aisha #aisha elsword #romance #one-shot #birthday

[thevixenfanfiction]

Chapter Seven

So um, long time no post. I got busy with college application things...and work. But here I am back with another chapter!! I ventured off the ACOMF story line a bit, but I hope y’all like it anyway!

Shout out again to my beta @court-0f-dreamers

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Summary: This story follows the path of someone who turns pity into malice and revenge into a lifestyle. Someone who doesn't believe in love's power and strays from what little good she has in her heart.

Myriad is a fae with the rare ability to leech magic from other face, leaving them husks of their former selves. Myriad worked for and was Amarantha's secret pet, spy and lover. After the Queen's death, Myriad leaves to live in solace. On her journey, she's captured by Hybern and set with a task to complete. Penetrate the workings of the Nightcourt and report to the King. During this time she falls in with the Inner Circle by a chance meeting with a male from her past. She must then gain their trust, in turn, discovering things about herself in the process, fighting the unbreakable command the King of Hybern gave her. (This follows the ending of A Court of Thorns and Roses thru to the end of the series. Slow burn Azriel/Myriad) (Roughly inspired by Disney's Maleficent.) (Banner by Charlie Bowater)

The sentries paid no heed to the little red fox that picked its way through the autumn leaves and brush. It flicked it’s tail, giving them a look with it’s yellow eyes before it leapt over a rock and passed into the entrance to the lower levels of the Autumn court, an entrance the guards were guarding.

  The fox trotted silently down, towards the glowing, warm light that shone at the end of the long hallway. It was cool and crisp underground, ventilated by a system that allowed the outside air to filter into the underground city.

  The animal stopped right outside the entrance, sat down, and began to stretch almost grotesquely. It’s shape twisted and rippled, it’s red fur began to disperse and gather on its head. The limbs lengthened and the body grew until instead of a fox sitting on the ground, it was a female fae. She shook her head, her curls falling about her shoulders before she drew her hair back and pulled it into a tie. She blinked her russet colored eyes, the same color as the fox’s eyes and smiled.

  The Autumn court was easy to penetrate if one knew the ways to get in.

                                                         ***   ***   ***

  I had been to the Autumn court twice before and knew my way around the winding city, built around the rocks and trees. I rather liked the place, aside from the overbearing feeling of fear and dominance that Beron had on his people. It made for an unhappy sort of city, but beautiful nonetheless.

  The city seemed to value preserving nature, yet conquering it at the same time. Almost like flame, the symbol of the Autumn court. I liked the way the sun shone through little caves and canopies in the trees, every corner of the city holding a new tree or tunnel. However, the heart of the city itself, the Highlord’s palace, was a thing to behold on it’s own.

  Beron’s house was built above ground, though it’s levels reached far beneath the ground and high up in the trees, gracefully swinging above it. It was made of a pale wood and gold, open archways with gentle sloping roofs artfully made with interlocking redwood panels. Great pillars stood by the entrance, marking the watchtowers of the Highlord’s guard.

  It was to the palace that I was headed, dressed as a lower class servant. I had stolen the gold dress and white apron off a clothes line for the duration of my task. I had done my research well and was going to the house of Elrissa, the mother of Narcissa, the since deceased meirleach that Beron had employed. I needed answers from her, about her daughter, about Beron.

  Her house wasn’t hard to find. It was on the outermost point of the palace, where the servants were housed. It wasn’t anything luxurious, more of a tenet building than an actual house.

   I stopped the first fae I could find, a pretty young girl with light brown hair and big dewy eyes that reminded me of a young deer.

   “I’m looking for Elrissa? She’s my aunt,” I said, letting my voice grow shy and timid. The girl looked at me with her large eyes and I saw a frightened flinch in her features.

  “She’s on the first story, her room is down the hall there,” the girl replied, giving me a good detailed set of directions. I smiled at her and bobbed my head, heading off in the directions given.

  I found the room quickly. I knocked on the battered, old wood door, looking around the hallway as I waited. The servant’s quarters weren’t anything impressive at all. The walls were cracked and old, almost as if they’d been forgotten by the rest of the palace. More than likely they had been.

  “Who’s at the door?”

   I looked back at the door and tried the knob, it gave in easily and I walked in the dark room. I frowned, squinting to see inside.

   “Who’s there?”

   I whipped my head to the raspy voice that was followed by a small figure. I lit my hand with a fae light and held it above my head, starting when I saw the female in front of me.

   She was small,skinny, frail...everything about this female was undernourished. Her gaunt face was surrounded by a cloud of dark silver laced hair and her eyes...cauldron, her eyes were gone. Where the sockets were was scarred over, what was left of her tattered eyelids had sunken inside the woman’s eye sockets, giving her the look of some kind of undead creature.

   “Are you...Elrissa?” I asked lowly, toeing the door shut behind me. The female flinched at the sound and I reached out my hand. “I’m going to touch you, don’t be startled.”    She flinched again when I set my hand on her shoulder and led her to a couch I could see in the corner of the barren room. Blankets were strewn over it, suggesting the couch was also her bed.

  “Do you have candles?” I asked, seating her.

  “I-I don’t know,” she whispered back, she put her arms under her and I froze, letting my fae light go to hover above us.

  She had no hands. Only stumps.

  “Are you Elrissa?” I asked again. This time the female nodded, so I sat beside her and hesitantly put my hand on her knee.

  “My name is Myriad, I...I’m like your daughter was. I need to know...what happened to her.”

  Elrissa jumped and she turned her head to me, reaching up with a stump to brush my shoulder, then my chin.

   “What are you? What court?”

   “I don’t have one. My mother was Illyrian, my father was from here. I don’t know who he is.”

   Elrissa touched my lips and nose. I tried not to shudder at the touch.

   “Elrissa, I really need--”

   “Why are you here?” Elrissa whispered, dropping her stumps.

   I worked my jaw slightly before I carefully pieced together my answer.

   “I need answers,” I replied slowly. “I read about your daughter, about our kind. I know about Beron being the father but I need to hear everything from your side. I need to know how Narcissa mastered this...ability.”

   Elrissa turned her face away from me and shook her head.

   “Cissa...poor little Cissa.”    I held my breath and Elrissa continued.    “I worked as a lady’s maid for our Lady. Beron took a fancy and...I couldn’t refuse him, not my High lord. Well...we were together in secret for almost a year then I became with child. She was born such a little thing.”

   Elrissa smiled in a ghostly sort of way and I wondered what she was feeling, remembering her child. I too wondered what that must feel like, holding something so little that you could call yours.

   “Narcissa was five when her powers bloomed. She was playing with some of the kitchen girls and I’m not sure what happened, but they fought, so Cissa said. She stripped both girls of their magic. It was horrible.

  “Later, Cissa and I were taken to see Beron and he wanted her to train with the other Meirleach he had under his command. So...who was I to disobey. They took my baby and they made her something terrible. She was fifteen when she killed the other Meirleach, drained him and killed him. Beron was so pleased about it, had her official revealed to his court, illegitimacy aside.”

  I shuddered to think of someone that powerful. She was so young, only fifteen and she stripped and killed a full grown fae male?

   “Beron killed her then, didn’t he?” I whispered, setting my hand on Elrissa’s shoulder. Elrissa’s entire body caved in and she let out a sob.

   “She was only nineteen! H-he killed her. She trusted him and I told her not too but she...he killed her…”

   Elrissa leaned into my touch, putting her face on my chest. I stiffened, but held the female close, rubbing her back as soothingly as I could.

   “What happened to you? How did you…”    “Beron took out m-my eyes and took off my hands...t-to keep me from using spells, witchcraft,” Elrissa moaned, falling into sobs again. I felt my blood run cold in my veins. Elrissa was a witch, like my mother. Perhaps then...it wasn’t the Autumn court’s bloodline but something else.

  “Elrissa, listen to me,” I pulled the female up, holding her straight. “The other Meirleach, was his mother a witch too?”   Elrissa’s face crinkled and she held her breath.

  “I don’t know...she isn’t living anymore. She died a long time ago. Killed herself.”

  I swore quietly and let go of Elrissa. I stood and began to pace the room, trying to process all this information.

  “You don’t know who your father is...do you child?”

  I looked down at Elrissa and walked back to her, bending down.

  “No...I don’t.”   The female pointed her face to me and I fought back a shudder, feeling as if she were staring at me with those empty eye sockets.

  “The Autumn court has a curse on it, it’s males bed witches and breed monsters,” she said quietly.

  “Who’s my father?”

  If it were Beron, I could handle that, it would make sense, yet at the same time part of me wondered why and how a High lord could get in and out of the Night court undetected.

   Elrissa touched my chest and smiled, showing off her teeth.

   “The Highlord’s eldest leaves his mark on you.”

   I felt my face drain of color and I stared at Elrissa. Cauldron...the Highlord’s son…?

   “How do you know?” I hissed and gripped Elrissa’s knee.

   She merely laughed at me and brushed my hand off, falling into a violent coughing fit.

  “You sound like him. You feel like him, your arrogance, fire, the way you demand to know things like everything belongs to you. You’re his daughter, I can smell it. I may be blind, Myriad, but I was gifted with a deeper sight. I can see into your soul.”

  I stood up and glared down at the woman, recalling my fae light back into my hand.

  “If it’s vengeance you want for what he did to your mother,than you’ll have to get stronger. Eris is as cunning as his father, more so even. He’s the heir to this court after all,” Elrissa said quietly. I backed out of the room, towards the door, not wanting to turn my back on the fae.   “I’ll be careful,” I replied. Elrissa simply laughed at me and shook her head.

  “Take care little fox,” she whispered. “The hounds are on the hunt.”

                                                          ***   ***   ***

   I was back in Velaris in two days time, still reeling from the news I had gathered from Elrissa. I had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t the Autumn court’s line that fathered the Meirleaches, instead it was the result of a fae mixing with a witch. Whether or not a meirleach was always born I didn’t know.

  I wandered through the city, back to the town house, figuring it’d be a good idea to check back in.

   I folded my wool jacket about me a bit tighter, the air getting colder as we got closer to the start of winter. I , may or may not have stolen myself some clothing when I was in the Autumn court. My clothes were an assortment of golds and browns, looking oddly off set with the rest of Velaris.

   I made my way to the town house and knocked on the door. It was opened by a young fae, one of Rhysand’s half wraith twins. I smiled at her and nodded my head.

  “Is Rhysand at home?”    She let me into the foyer, not giving me an answer. I looked about the room and moved into the house, realizing I was rather hungry. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and snuck further into the house, looking around till I found the kitchen.

   I was sure Rhysand wouldn’t mind if I ate. I snuck in the kitchen and found a bowl of apples. I snatched one and almost choked on my first bite when I realized that I wasn’t alone in the room.

   My knife I kept on my leather vambrace under my sleeve slipped into my palm and I whipped around only to see Mor. The pretty blond haired fae eyed the knife in my hand and I felt my face heat up as I swallowed my bite of food and slid the knife back up into my sheath.    “Sorry...I uh…” I shifted on my feet and pointed to the bowl of apples. “I was hungry.”

   Mor tilted her head and narrowed her brown eyes at me.

   “Where were you? Amren said you disappeared after some sort of training,” she asked, looking over my clothing. I shrugged and took a bite of my apple, watching the much older female.

   “I went to um...investigate something. In the Autumn court.”

   Mor’s eyes widened then narrowed just as fast. I held up my free hand, stopping her before she said anything.

   “Relax, I went to talk to a female named Elrissa. She has something to do with what Amren was making me read, about the meirleach,” I said hurriedly. I set the apple core down on the table and took off my jacket and draped it on a chair.

   “Amren said that Beron’s line may hold some sort of skipped gene for my abilities. From what I found though, I think it’s because of the witches.”

   Mor was staring at me in a way I wasn’t sure if I should feel threatened or not. I continued though, feeling I had to fill the silence.    “Which it makes sense since my mother was a witch, the same as Elrissa. I mean, she was a witch.”    I fell into an awkward silence, watching Mor stare at me. Finally, she took a few steps towards me, eyeing my face.

   “That’s why you’re so familiar,” she whispered. I struggled not to back up.

   Mor swallowed and shook her head.

   “Eris is your father?”

   I nodded and moved my eyes away from Mor.

   “Yes. That’s what Elrissa told me. Her daughter...Narcissa, she was Beron’s daughter...so…”    I looked at Mor and rubbed my arm. I could just feel the tension in the air between us. I had the feeling that Mor and Eris weren’t on the best of terms. Then again, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t involve myself much with social gossip, only the information I knew was solid and not the fantastical rambling of house servants.

   Mor let out a breath through her nose and rubbed the bridge of her nose.    “I…” she shook her and finally just stared at me, both her hands on her hips. “How did you get into the Autumn court?!”

   “Same way I get into anywhere. I was a spy you know.”

   Mor snorted and walked around me, getting an apple for herself. I watched her and I pushed back some of my hair.

   “I...I’m sorry for the way I acted before,” I said suddenly. Mor didn’t say anything as she grabbed a knife from a drawer and started to peel the apple. I continued. “I really haven’t...had anyone...to work with before. I’m not used to people really. It’s hard adapting I guess.”

   Mor looked over her shoulder at me and nodded once.

    “Azriel likes you,” she said abruptly. I felt my whole body tighten and my stomach knot. Why did she have to say that?     Mor easily sliced into her apple and gave me a look that I knew was dangerous.

   “And just because Azriel likes you, doesn’t mean we all do. I don’t trust you, no one does. Tread carefully Myriad. Azriel is my friend, if you do anything, anything to hurt him, I will end you.”

   I swallowed and nodded, picking up my jacket. I gave Mor a look before I walked from the kitchen.

   “Warning received..”

    Angrily, I walked back into the foyer, ready to go back out onto the streets of Velaris and ignore the circle completely. I figured Rhysand could wait. I needed a drink or something.

   *** *** ***

   It wasn’t a drink I found as I went out. What I found instead was a shop that I’d never seen before, in a multi-coloured little district that I didn’t think I’d care to go down.

  It was a little music shop with instruments hanging in the windows. Violins, fiddles, flutes. Old instruments and new ones. I stared at the shop, looking up at the two other stories above it, living quarters it seemed.

   A long time ago, in another life, I used to amuse myself by playing music. I was gifted with it and it always brought me comfort. After a while I fell away from it and hadn’t picked up an instrument in years. What little music remained in my soul was killed Under the Mountain.

   “You can come in, you know.”

   I looked down at the shop’s entrance, at a little black haired boy about nine or ten. He had his hands on his hips and he looked as if he’d drag me into the shop even if I said I didn’t want to come in.

   I couldn’t help but smile at him. He had roused me from my morbid thoughts and I now directed all my attention to him.

   “I don’t play music,” I explained. The boy looked astonished. He darted forward and grabbed my hand and pulled me into the shop.

   “Grampie! I found a girl who doesn’t play music!”

   I let the boy pull me forward and I was careful to watch where I walked. The shop was absolutely cluttered with instruments, instrument repair items and other things I couldn’t begin to figure out what the were.

  The boy let go of me and ran behind a counter to fetch his grandfather, at least who I thought was his grandfather. I snorted softly and walked around the shop, trailing my fingers over a shelf, flicking a bit of dust away. I saw a small fiddle on the shelf and I bent down to look at it. I couldn’t help but smile at the little flowers someone had taken the time to paint on it, even though the little indigo bluebells were faded and worn.

  “Theo! Lad, slow down...Oh, m’lady.”

   I straightened and looked behind me when the boy came back with his grandfather in tow. I smiled slightly at him and nodded my head.

   “Hello. You have a very persuasive boy there, sir,” I said as I gestured to the boy. The grandfather, an older fae with silvery hair and a kind face, set his hands on the boy’s shoulders and smiled apologetically.

   “Theo likes to bring me customers. He says you don’t play music? Is that right?”

   I nodded and looked back at the fiddle. The shopkeeper gasped and walked forward, picking the fiddle up. He ran his hand lovingly over the instrument and plucked a few cords, adjusting the strings.

   “Ah...she’s caught your eye then, m’lady?” he asked, giving me a mischievous look. I felt my smile widen and I shrugged.

   “I suppose, sir.”

   The male chuckled and took the fiddle’s accompanying bow and turned back to me.

  “Please, it’s Claudius,” he said. He handed me the fiddle and I took it. My fingers traced over the familiar strings.

   “You have fiddler’s fingers, m’lady,” he said. I arched an eyebrow and ran a finger down the fiddle strings.

   “Is that a thing?” I asked. “I used to play a long time ago.”

    Theo clambered onto a stool behind me, his black curls bouncing adorably around his face.

   Claudius handed me the bow and I took it, just to please the old fae and his boy.

   “I really don’t play anymore,” I explained. Theo looked at me with his huge eyes and I sighed, drawing the bow over the strings. they let out a clear, mellow note, almost mournful. I frowned and tucked the instrument under my chin, adjusting my fingers to get a more happy tune, just to see the boy smile.

   Theo who laughed at me and he put his arms around my neck, standing on his stool. I stiffened at the touch. It was odd, yet...childish and I didn’t quite mind it.

   “You’re a natural,” he explained.

   Claudius shrugged and nodded.

   “Theo sees people as they go by. He drags them all in my shop, saying they’re naturals. More times than not he’s right and we give away an instrument,” he said. I looked at Theo, turning my head just so.

   “Is that so?”

   The boy simply giggled and hugged my neck tighter. Claudius smiled and shooed the boy off.

   “Leave m’lady alone, lad.”

   I laughed and stopped, almost choking on my laughter. I hadn’t laughed in...in such a long time. Claudius gazed at me and tilted his head, his dark blue eyes reading into me. I let him, feeling he meant no harm by it.

   “Perhaps, m’lady needs a little harmony in her life? A little song can do a great deal of good,” he said quietly. I looked down at the fiddle and smiled, rubbing a bit of polished wood.

  “Yes...it sounds rather nice doesn’t it?”   I looked at the old fae and smiled, feeling a little weight lift off my chest.

  “Call me Myriad, sir.”

  “That’s a beautiful name,” Claudius said. He gestured to the fiddle. “Please, take it, Myriad. As a gift.”   I blanched and shook my head.

  “No please! I couldn’t just take this from you!”

  Theo clambered up behind me again and pulled on my jacket.

  “Take it! Grampie doesn’t give gifts much. Please??”

   I sighed and crouched down, looking at the boy. He looked back at me with puppy  eyes and bit his lip. I smiled and nodded.

   “Fine. I’ll take it for you,” I said. I looked up at Claudius. “But please, let me do something to repay you. I’ll feel guilty otherwise.”

   Claudius shook his head.    “Nonsense. You can always come back and keep Theo from trouble if you must do anything.”    Theo stuck out his tongue and I snorted, letting Claudius pack up my fiddle. I jerked my head to Theo and he trotted over to me. I slipped several gold coins into his little hands and put a finger to my lips.

   “Don’t tell your grandfather,” I whispered, not wanting to freely accept a gift. If anything, it would help the two.

   Theo nodded and leaned up to give my cheek a kiss. I let him and ruffled his hair, straightening up. Claudius’s eyes twinkled as he turned around and handed me my fiddle.

  “Come back and visit.”

                                                              ***   ***   ***

    I went back to Amren’s place, waiting for her. I was sitting on my little pile of blankets experimenting with the fiddle. I didn't realize how out of practice I really was. It took me awhile to discover the instrument, but in a few hours time I was able to play a few slow melodies.

  “So that’s what the screeching is.”   I opened my eyes and gave Amren a look as she came up into the attic, slinging a bag of books down on a low table. I set the fiddle down and set it in my lap.

  “I used to play when I was younger. I thought I’d have a hobby. You seem to like to read so I thought I should play music.”   Amren looked at me, her eyes narrowing like a cat.

  “You’re different. Did your little field trip into the Autumn court relieve some of your pressure?” she asked almost tauntingly.

   I stood up and set my hands on my back and shrugged again.

  “I...I don’t know yet. I found out who my father is though.”   Amren nodded and sighed, removing her chunky necklace and bracelets.

   “Mor told me. You know she was betrothed to him?”

  I looked at the older female and raised my lip. Mor could’ve been…

  “I didn’t know that.”

   Amren snorted and sat down.

  “You don’t know a lot about us, girl,” she said. She looked at me and her face grew solemn.

  “Rhysand and Feyre got back from the human realms this morning when you were gone. They have invited the human queens to a meeting.”

   My brows shot into my hairline.

   “Why them?!”   Amren tilted her head.

  “You have a problem?”

  I seethed through my teeth at the female, feeling like a child who no one thought was adequate enough to even tie a shoe.

   “I’ve met them before, penetrated their courts. They’re surrounded by two faced silver tongued liars. They would sell one of their children if it meant getting what they wanted.”

   “Rhys knows what he’s doing. Most of the time,” Amren said off handedly. “We go to the House of Wind in the morning for more of your training. We have to unlock your power this. That and you need to get in shape. You’re so scrawny a child could push you over.”

  I growled and flung my hands up.

  “Will I ever be good enough for you people? You know you’re all crazy?” I snapped. I pointed a finger at Amren. “You’re the worst.”

   Amren smirked and waved a hand.

   “Go whine to someone who cares.”

  I ground my teeth and turned around to put my fiddle back in its case.

  “I’m going out for dinner,” I muttered.

  Amren raised her eyebrow and she actually looked curious.

  “With who?”

  I smiled back at her in a taunting way.

  “Myself.”

@court-0f-dreamers @eternallyreading

#sarah j. maas #acotar #acowar #acomaf #fanfiction

[retracing-my-steps]

Things that are making me cry

One of my dearest friends is getting married and she invited me to be a bridesmaid- so in the spring I see one of the kindest people I’ve ever met get married and have the love she deserves.

I get to do that alongside two other people who support me and care about me and have always spoke highly of me no matter what and no matter how distant I’ve ever been and no matter how little or how much I have made them a part of my life

I get to go to California for the wedding and see how I’ve changed since when I last was there- I spent a year living there when I was 18. I get to go to my favorite cafe there and go to a beach for the first time in so long. I get to see my ex mom-in-law who still treats me with deep kindness like family and gave me a very persistent talk about how I need to stop carrying others so much and that I have to move on with my life and not suffer with people for people.

Sometime in the spring right around that time I will see the love of my life again after a year of being stuck apart.

Very recently a very kind acquaintance of mine got engaged as well to her girlfriend of some years, out of the blue, and she’s also a person who I know deserves so much happiness and so many good things so I’m so happy.

A few days ago I suddenly got contacted by a girl,— she was a waitress in a small town in Canada at a little hotel with a breakfast place and a pub with a little dance floor— who, about a year and a half ago in December when I was visiting my love, I gave a decorative little note of encouragement with an extra tip. She seemed sweet and friendly so I really wanted to do my first attempt at an act of kindness of that type for her. I had signed my name. She found me online a few days ago and contacted me and told me she had that note on her wall since then for nearly two years now and she was reading it to a friend recently and wanted to contact me to thank me. She said that it meant more to her than I could know. (I totally exclaimed excitedly in happiness and surprise and got weepy and felt terribly happy because that’s all I could have ever hoped come true)

Yesterday I met a new family member I have never met before who had recently moved to Portland. My great aunt’s son (maternal side), a cousin my mom hadn’t seen for at least 25 years. I was around for some of it, listening to all the excited childhood reminiscing memories of shared holidays and babysitting and weird stories about my Nana’s many siblings and all the weird gossip and confusions and things that had happened. He’s a very friendly and warm-hearted middle aged gay guy (which comes across not in an intensely cliche way but in the way you would expect- he’s very comfortable about not trying to be more masculine than he is)- blue eyes and very smiley, reminds me of a personality combination of my mom (hyper friendly and honest)– and my younger sibling (talkative, mellow, and thoughtful).. (the two family members I get along with easiest). Mom had offered to play host for his short stay, and to meet him I went to the house and tagged along with my parents and him for dinner at a small restaurant. I thought he seemed like a very good and kind person and someone who was very authentic and I liked him immediately. So I waited patiently for the end of the conversations when we were almost ready to leave and started telling stories and telling him about my misadventures of the past three years and the royal mess and chaos, and the beautiful and lonely but hopeful present time. He listened eagerly and asked questions and shared tidbits and I drew it to a close with ‘and so I’m just glad to lay low right now as much as I miss him, it’s been a hell of a time these past years and I’m glad things have finally stopped shifting in my world and I can catch my breath and try to recuperate’. My parents were politely silent, my mom giggling for a moment at the start saying ‘see we’re being good!’ It was awkward because it just made it more blatant how they are so accustomed to me never speaking at all, and giving me a turn is such a change from the norm. Or, really just, the prospect of letting me speak for myself and tell my story without any random outside interruption or commentary being still a special effort that they had to consciously choose to make. On the walk back to the house I talked to him a bit more, feeling self indulgent and adding last details that I wanted to say. When I asked him what brought him to Portland, he was honest (his husband is in a bad way and he had to cut ties)– and I was surprised. I felt maybe he was giving the same honesty back to me in response to me having shared my struggle.

The next day my mom told me in passing that he had told her the moment I left that he felt really connected to me and like we could be good friends and he loved talking to me. I was surprised and happy- because I had such a good impression of him and felt like he and I really had a lot in common- just something very heartfelt and kind about him and very very thoughtful and deep. He appreciates stories like I do and listens carefully and loves to share. So I felt so happy that it was a mutual impression. I showed him my apartment for 10 minutes before he left for the train, which he was happy about saying 'I love seeing people’s homes, it says a lot about them, it really tells a story’– my mom waiting in the car (at my request) during the time to take him to the station when we were done. He asked about all the art on the walls and I shared very very quick spirited stories and histories of things and he was really intent hearing about them.

He saw the little shelf where the ink drawing I made Zandry for Valentine’s Day is sitting, and said something along the lines of 'oh wow… This is really more than just “something”, isn’t it. The real deal…’ I nodded profusely. 'I’ve loved him my entire life.. to be with him is the strangest and happiest thing to ever happen- something I never could have dreamt of happening after losing track of him for so long… and I can still barely believe it .. and he’s just so amazing, he’s so worth everything to me, he makes me so happy’

We rushed out the door right on time after I gave him a speedy but thorough tour with a few stories, and I walked down the block with him and asked if he was a hugger*, and he said 'absolutely!’ and gave me a big spirited hug and paused and said simply “I really like you!” before getting in the car, with an exchange of 'We’ll be in touch!’

*[I always ask, I’m very aware of that because of the importance of personal boundaries and never assuming– consent culture is important]

This was significant to me… most of all because.. I always felt like, I have a family but my family was never…… my family. They don’t really want to hear what I have to say or show interest in knowing me as a person.

So I cried a bit later, because it felt like having family finally, for the first time. I’ve never met someone like that. I’ve always mourned that deeply. I’ve always wanted to have even a single wise person in my life who rooted for me and made me feel heard, giving me advice and making me feel like I mattered and wanting to hear what I had to say. I’ve never had that person…… …. And suddenly it looks like I may have found one of my people, for the first time. Someone who feels like real family.

…And tonight after that one of those good old friends mentioned above brought me cupcakes she made for my birthday today since I work on my birthday. They’re all decorated with cute monster faces with candy googley-eyes and everything. She came still wearing her apron with her little kid in tow, handing me a whole pan of cupcakes with a fancy handled-lid.

………It feels like this spring will be really important

it’s so.. almost… terrifying- it’s so overwhelming, all this, all that is slowly happening, so suddenly…. I can’t really absorb the prospect of… …coming to a point of having what I need in life and feeling whole. So many pieces, big and small.

It’s surreal enough to think I will see my love again. It’s hard for me to even absorb, even with me missing him day and night as I do.

With all this, with things so suddenly arriving and all these people and things that are offering me such growth and healing and hope…

What would I even do with that kind of happiness? I don’t even know..! I don’t even know

#retracing writing #recovery notes