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lunmelia · 3 years

Note

I praythee... more dadstiel raising Jack... please?

I was gonna hold off on this for a bit, but I’m feeling a bit sick and unmotivated to do anything else, so here you go. I’m putting the rest of the post under a line because I maybe got a bit carried away. maybe wrote just a little tiny story. just a small one. Maybe 2.

----

Okay, so maybe Dean did not like baby Jack at first. He had his reasons, okay? Weak reasons, but reasons. Firstly, a baby shapeshifter is very different to the baby of the literal devil. Secondly, that baby is the reason his mom and best friend almost died. Weak reasons, but reasons. But his dislike for the baby only lasted three days. Three days of the other three frowning at him and repeating, “he’s just a baby, Dean.” Three days of Castiel somehow succeeding in keeping the baby calm. Three days of Dean avoiding the room Cas and Jack were situated in. But on the night of the third day, Jack had decided he would not be persuaded to go to sleep. No matter what Castiel did. Dean and Mary had been holed away in Sam’s room, far enough that their ears weren’t damaged from the cries, close enough to act quickly if anything were to go wrong. Three hours into the crying, Dean decided he’d had enough. “Alright,” he snapped, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against. “I’m putting an end to this.” He marched towards the door. “Dean,” warned Mary, rising from her seat. Dean paused to turn back to them, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “I’m not gonna kill the damn thing, jeez,” he said before continuing his steps. A few minutes later, the door opened to the room where Cas was hurriedly shushing and bouncing baby Jack, and Dean strode in with a guitar in hand. Cas threw panicked eyes to him. He was worried about the nephil’s cries affecting the human’s ears. “Dean-” “I’ve heard worse, Cas. Had you screaming at me after I crawled outta hell, didn’t I?” He threw the angel a grin before closing the door. “I can deal. Put him on the bed, will you?” He gestured to where four pillows were assembled in a rectangle border. Where Jack had been sleeping, since there was no crib to be found in the bunker. Cas hesitantly did as he was told, settling Jack down as he writhed and screamed, his small face scrunched up, red and wet with snot and tears. “You’re terrible at this, by the way,” Dean commented after wincing at a particular loud scream. “You were basically shaking the kid when I came in. And you need to change into some softer clothes, man. Your suit’s too rough, and that’s all he’s been feeling since he was born, apart from that blanket we’ve got him in. No wonder he’s upset.” He settled on the edge of the bed, propping one knee up on the sheets and resting his guitar atop it. “Oh,” Cas said, “of course. I hadn’t realised.” “Hm.” Dean gave him an obvious look. “Now shush for a minute.” He looked down at his guitar, adjusting his fingers on the appropriate cords before beginning to strum a soft tune. Jack’s cry abruptly cut off as his ears caught on the new sound. Yet he quickly ignored it in favour of continuing his screeches. Dean plucked the strings for a few more seconds before taking a breath, and singing in a low baritone, “There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range.” Cas gave a short gasp as if he had just realised what Dean was doing. Dean spared him a glance before focusing back on the guitar. “His horse and his cattle are his only companions He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons Waiting for summer, his pastures to change.” Dean was now looking at Jack, who was looking back and releasing confused whines. Dean looked up to the angel and whispered, “sit down, Cas.” Castiel slowly lowered himself to the bed as Dean moved onto the next part of the verse. “And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire Thinkin’ about women and glasses of beer Reclosing his eyes as the doggies retire He sings out a song which is soft, but it’s clear As if maybe someone could hear.” By this point, Jack was still whimpering with tears gathering in his eyes, but his full focus was on Dean with a curious tilt of his head. Dean watched the baby, the irritation in eyes now lessened. Instead, he now regarded the nephil with a soft, considering look. Cas, same as Jack, gave his full attention to Dean, a twitch in his lips. “Goodnight, you moonlight ladies Rockabye, sweet baby, James Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose Won’t you let me go down in my dreams? And rockabye, sweet baby, James.” Jack was now soothed to soft coos, the red in his face having completely receded. Dean, unconsciously, was leaning towards the baby. A soft smile fought to pull at his lips. “Now, the first of December was covered with snow, So was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston Though the Berkshires seemed dream-like on account of that frostin’ With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go.” Jack’s eyes were fluttering. It seemed that he was fighting sleep, however, as he kept blinking to gaze at Dean. A sudden yawn escaped him. Cas’ face bloomed with a wide smile while Dean let himself grin softly. “There’s a song that they sing when they take to the highway A song that they sing when they take to the sea A Song that they sing of their home in the sky Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep But singing works just fine for me.” Cas huffed a laugh at Dean, who threw him a grin before turning his gaze back to the now asleep Jack. Dean pitched his voice quieter, almost a whisper so not to disturb the sleeping infant. “So goodnight, you moonlight ladies Rockabye, sweet baby, James Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose Won’t you let me go down in my dreams? And rockabye, sweet baby, James.” Dean let the last chord fade away, and the room was cast into silence. He gently laid his hand atop his guitar, afraid to make any noises that might awaken Jack. He gazed at the baby nephil with a soft smile.

“He’s kinda cute when he’s not trying to blow out our eardrums,” he admitted quietly. Cas smiled and hummed. After a moment, Cas whispered, “that was beautiful, Dean.” Dean snapped his gaze to the angel, alarmed and caught off-guard by the compliment. “I- oh. oh, y-yeah, sure, okay. um...” he trailed off, looking away back to the infant. Cas tilted his head, amused. Dean stared at Jack for a moment, a furrow working its way to his brow. “... We’re really going to raise Lucifer’s baby, aren’t we?” he asked. Cas frowned at the mention of the archangel, but nodded. “It would seem that way, yes,” he said. He waited for Dean’s response, for him to argue the fact one last time. But Dean sighed, his irises bouncing back and forth for a moment before he said, “okay. We’re going to need to buy supplies, then. This place is lacking. Not surprised by that, though. Not exactly the kind of place you’d expect the Men of Letters to be raising their kids.” Cas hummed his agreement. There was another moment of silence before Dean rose from the bed. “Right, I guess I’ll go discuss that with mom and Sam. You... keep watch over him.” He gestured to Jack, still sleeping. “I will.” Cas nodded. Dean nodded back. “Right.” He stepped up to the door. “Goodnight, Dean,” Cas softly called. Dean looked back to him, nodding again. “Night.” He slowly, quietly opened the door and stepped out into the hall, where Sam and Mary stood waiting. He raised a brow at them as he clicked the door close. “He stopped crying,” Sam said, stating the obvious. “He’s sleeping?” Dean nodded. Mary looked from the guitar to her son. “You sang to him?” she questioned. Dean paused a moment, then nodded with a shrug as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Yeah. We need to make a list of baby supplies,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “And baby-proofing stuff. That should definitely be a priority. This is not a safe place to raise a baby without baby-proofing.” He waved a hand, scoffed while glancing around the hall as if observing the entire bunker, then turned and walked away. Sam and Mary looked at each other, both equally confused at Dean’s sudden change of attitude towards Jack. Sam then shrugged, grinned and chased after Dean, calling in a whisper, “what song did you sing?” “I ain’t telling you. Why’d you wanna know?” Dean gave his brother a look of disgust.

“Oh, come on. Was it Blackbird? It was Blackbird, wasn’t it? That’s so obvious.”

“No, Sam, it wasn’t Blackbird.”

Mary huffed a laugh, shaking her head before following after her sons.

(The song Dean plays and sings is “Sweet Baby James” by James Taylor, in case you wanted to take a listen)

Although, yes, Cas can put Jack to sleep with his grace, he refuses to. He’s afraid that would intefere with Jack’s natural growth, and that Jack will begin to depend on his grace and will never be able to put himself to sleep. So Cas doesn’t. Besides, Dean singing to him seems to work just fine. -- They were all afraid that they were going to have to feed Jack some weird, special combination since he’s a nephil. Like, milk and holy water, or something. But nope, normal formula works just fine. He’s actually a pretty normal baby. Just, plus deafening screaming, wings and healing. -- I’m honestly not sure how to approach Chuck with this AU. I don’t want him to be evil because I want this to be a soft, happy AU but he is an evil bastard, so. If anyone wants to handle the angst side of this AU that involves Chuck go ahead but I ain’t touching it. I will say this though; I can see Amara convincing Chuck not to kill a baby. Amara: it’s a baby, God Chuck: yes, but it’s a very dangerous baby Amara: ... it’s a baby. Chuck: ... a very dangerous baby. Amara: there is... no such thing as a dangerous baby. there is literally... nothing dangerous about a baby. nephil or no Chuck: but- Amara: do not kill a baby, God. Chuck: ... fine. -- The four of them were so busy getting Jack settled in the bunker that they just completely forgot to tell the other hunters that, y’know, they have a baby now. So it was a bit of shock to Jody, when she called to check in on them after not hearing from them for weeks. Jody, on the phone with Sam: yeah, we haven’t heard from you guys for weeks! what’s going on, everything okay? Sam, on the other line: uh, yeah, no everything’s fine, we’ve just been *glances over to where Mary and Cas are bathing Jack in the sink* busy. Jody: busy? you guys need help with anything? Sam: no, no we’re fine- Jack: *coos and smiles* Cas: *gasps* was that his first smile? Mary: it was! he smiled! Dean, jumping up from where he was sitting: he’s smiling!? Sam, hurrying over: wait, I wanna see! Jody: ... Sam. Sam: oh- uh, heh, yes, Jody? Jody: do you have a baby? Sam: we... might. Jody: why do you have a baby, Sam? Sam: uh, well, see it’s a long story- Dean: *laughs* look at him go! look at that little smile! Jody: oh my god I’m coming over- *hangs up* Mary: was that Jody? Sam: yep Dean: ... we completely forgot to tell the others about the baby, didn’t we? Sam: yep. -- Dean, with Jack in his arms: Claire, you wanna hold him? Claire: uh, no thanks Dean: no, I think you wanna hold him *steps up to her* Claire, panicking: no, I really don’t- oh my god no don’t- *squeaks as Dean passes Jack to her* Dean, directing her: put your arms like that, hold his head like this- there you go! look at that, you’re holding him Claire: I hate you so much right now. *looks down at Jack with wide eyes* Jack: *stares up at her* Claire: he’s so tiny. so fragile... am I holding him right? I don’t wanna hurt him- Sam: you’re doing great, Claire. Don’t worry about it Claire: okay... can I... can I keep holding him? or- Cas: of course you can, Claire Claire: okay, thanks... *goes back to staring at Jack* Jack: ... *pulls at Claire’s hair* Claire: ow ow ow ow okay no I changed my mind take him please now- -- Jack’s first word, or at least first coherent sound, was surprise surprise a simple drawn out “daaa”. After weeks of Dean, Sam and Mary and everyone else referring to Cas as “dada” “dad” and “daddy” to try and get Jack to say it, the moment finally happened. It came out of nowhere, in a moment where they weren’t even trying to get him to say it. Dean: *sitting on the floor, watching Jack crawl around and fiddle with his toys* Jack: *loses interest in the block he was holding, looks at Dean, giggles then disappears* Dean, scrambling to stand: shit- Cas! Jack’s flying again! Cas, appearing before him three seconds later and holding Jack at an arm’s length: Jack, we’ve discussed this many times. You’re not to fly when I’m not in the room. Do you understand? Jack, cooing and reaching a hand towards Cas’ face: daaa Dean and Cas: ... Dean: did he just- Jack, more enthusiastically: da! Dean: he did! holy shit, Cas, he said it! he basically called you dad! he- Cas? Cas, tearing up: I believe... I am going to cry. -- After that, Jack developed a bad habit of flying whenever he wanted to see or be held by Cas. Honestly, it got annoying at times, especially when Cas was busy with other matters. But what else were they supposed to do, let him fly around until he gave up? They did eventually solve the problem after Gabriel came back and they got some of the other angels on their side. When Cas wasn’t available, one of the other angels fetched Jack. Though, the first time Jack was caught by Gabriel and not Cas, he was extremely upset. He blew out all the lights in the bunker and shattered glass and porcelain with his cries.

He could not be consoled for hours, not even when Cas was holding him. He latched onto Cas and cried until he was sure Cas wasn’t gone or going anywhere. He could not be separated from Cas that night, screaming whenever someone tried to take him from him. They concluded that he probably had separation anxiety since he had never really been separated from Cas before. Cas was there during the pregnancny, there when he was born, was his primary caretaker since Jack’s crying didn’t affect him like it did the humans, and he always catches him whenever he flies away. Cas was worried that Jack was going to depend too much on his grace, yet in the end Jack ended up depending too much on him.

Trying to ease Jack’s separation anxiety was a process, and a difficult one. Especially with him being a nephil.

He seemed okay with being without Cas for an hour and a bit, so they started by increasing the amount of time that Cas is gone. Which failed because whenever Jack noticed it had been a while since he’d seen his dad, he flew away. And since they wanted to avoid another huge tantrum so soon, they let Cas fetch him.

Ultimately, the only solution was getting other angels to catch him, and braving through the tantrums. Increasing the time in which Cas had to wait before going to Jack. It was... very, very difficult.

Because it turned out that Jack wasn’t the only one with separation anxiety.

They discover this fact the first time they attempt to separate them. Cas broke three minutes in, and flew to Jack with a muttered, “I’m sorry” to Dean. A collective sigh fell over the room as they looked to Cas, guiltily holding a wailing Jack.

“Alright, then,” Dean said, scratching at the back of his head, “guess that’s just something else we gotta work on.” Cas looked to them with wide, apologetic eyes as he held Jack closer.

From then on the “sessions”, as they started calling them, weren’t just trying to calm Jack down in Cas’ absence, but also trying to get Cas to stay put. To not cave in and go running to comfort Jack. Which was hard, seeing as Cas was an angel and didn’t really have to listen to a bunch of humans telling him “stay.” It took a lot of convincing. Convincing from Dean, mostly. Because Cas listened to Dean. For some weird reason, Dean thought.

The third session was the most difficult one they had at that point. It was three hours into Cas being away from Jack after another angel caught him, and they were aiming for four. Dean had left Cas with Sam for a minute to get himself some water, taking Cas’ impulse control with him. When he came back, Sam was very nearly begging Cas not to leave.

“Sam,” said Dean. “Go check on how the others are doing, will you?” Even though they could clearly tell, based on Jack’s screams echoing down the hall.

Sam hesitated. “You- you sure-” he stopped at the flat look Dean gave him. “Right, yeah, sure thing.” Sam glanced at Cas before hurrying out of the room.

When the door clicked shut, Cas stepped up to Dean. “Dean, I have to-”

“Sit down, Cas,” he told him, placing his glass on top of the drawers.

Cas paused, then tensed his shoulders as a glare settled over his features. “No. Will you just let me-”

“Cas!” Dean snapped, standing straight and regarding him with a hard glare. “Sit. Down.”

A tense silence passed between them as they glared at each other. Then, with a huff Castiel looked away and sat down on the bed. Dean dragged the desk chair to the bed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Now I know this is really hard for you right now, but you have to push through and stay. put. This is a good thing for Jack-”

“How!?” Cas threw his hands up, restless. “How is this a good thing for him? He’s crying, he’s inconsolable, he’s in distress. How is something that is having such a negative effect on him a good thing?” He glared at Dean as if he were challenging him to answer.

“It may be affecting him badly now, but I promise you that this will not last forever. I know it’s hurting, but there ain’t another way for us to deal with his separation anxiety. We gotta get through the shitty stuff to get to the good results, Cas,” he reasoned, imploring Cas with his eyes to understand that this just needs to happen.

Cas opened his mouth to reply when a particularly loud screech ripped through the air. It caused the lights in the room to flicker. Cas looked in alarm towards the door, a weak sound escaping him. He threw worried, scared, eyes towards Dean and pleaded, “my son needs me, Dean.”

Dean sighed. Right. It seemed the only way to get Cas to stay put was to ground him through physical touch. He scooted the chair forward, reached out and tightly grasped Cas’ hands in his own. Cas’ gaze snapped down and back up, surprised. Dean ignored the look.

“What happens if we decide to enrol him in school, huh?” he asked the angel.

Cas’ brow furrowed, momentarily confused. “What?”

“What happens if we decide to enrol him in school?” he repeated. “Say I let you go right now, say we give up and just let you stay by Jack all the time, come whenever he calls. Okay, then what? He grows up, only knows a world where you’re always by his side. Then one day, you tell him that he has to go somewhere without you for 6 hours, everyday of every week. He reacts, only this time he knows words. He says ‘please’ and ‘no’ and ‘don’t do this, don’t leave me dad I don’t wanna go’. What then?”

Castiel winced, his heart tightening as the image of a 6-year-old Jack begging him not to leave came to mind. “I...” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

Dean nodded. “It would hurt a helluva lot more, wouldn’t it? Be a lot more difficult to leave once he has words to express how much he doesn’t want you to. And let’s say you don’t. Let’s say you cave in, because he’s your son and you love him and you don’t wanna see him cry. So you homeschool him, continue to stay by his side. You know what’s gonna happen? He’s not gonna be able to do anything without you, Cas. He’s not gonna know how,” he said, words clear and expression honest as he tried to get through to the angel.

Cas lowered his gaze, narrowing his eyes as he considered Dean’s words.

Dean suddenly laughed, bitterly saying, “I should know.”

Cas looked back up at him, tilting his head with a silent question.

Dean sighed, his shoulders dropping. “I spent most of my life with Sammy by my side every single damn day.” Castiel’s eyes cleared with understanding, but he let the other continue. “A life with Sam in it was all I knew. When he left for college... I was a mess. A big ol’ rage-filled mess. I hated Sam for leaving me, and that’s what I thought he was doing. Leaving me. He was just trying to live his life, but... I just didn’t know how to live without him. I couldn’t. I still-” he laughed breathlessly, shaking his head before gesturing to his neck. “I still get this nervous itch when he’s away for a few days. And I’m almost forty.”

He felt Cas’ hands tighten around his, and he shrugged off the sympathetic look the angel was giving him. He raised his brow towards him, questioning, “do you want that for Jack? For him to be crying and begging you not to go when you drop him off at school? For him to not go on any camping trips or sleepovers because he’d rather stay home with you? For him to get a nervous itch whenever you leave even though he’s a full grown adult?”

Cas shook his head. “No... No, I don’t want that.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded, and patted his hand once. “Then this is what you gotta do.”

Cas nodded slowly, understanding and acceptance sinking in. The lights flickered as another one of Jack’s cries echoed through the bunker. Cas sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “This is... this is really hard,” he finally admitted.

Dean gave a sad smile. He knew that. He knew how much Cas was struggling. He watched Cas look longingly towards the door, then made a decision. “C’mere.” He rose to his feet, tugging on Cas’ hands as he went. Cas hesitated, looking uncertain. “The offer’s gonna go away real quick if you don’t hurry up,” Dean warned. Cas stood and Dean wrapped his arms around him, tugging him in. Cas sagged against him with a sigh. He pressed his face into Dean’s shoulder, and his hands gripped at the back of his jacket.

After a moment, Cas began to cry. Dean was shocked for a moment, not expecting to hear the sniffles and hitches of breath. He had seen Cas cry quite a few times since Jack was born, but he hasn’t gotten used to it yet. He quickly got over himself. This wasn’t the time to freak out. His friend needed him. He began to rub a hand over Cas’ back. “I know it’s hard, but you’re doing the right thing,” he murmured. Cas hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything.

After another moment, Dean said, “y’know, I think I’ve seen you cry more these past few months than I have in the 12 years I’ve known you.”

“Clearly, Jack brings out the worst in me,” Cas replied, his words muffled by Dean’s shoulder.

Dean chuckled as a response. The two stood in each other’s arms, quiet apart from Castiel’s sniffling and Jack’s distant cries. The nephil caused the lights to flicker again with another screech, and Cas’ arms tightened around Dean.

“How much longer?” he asked.

Dean paused in rubbing his back to check his watch. “You got 27 more minutes to go.”

Cas nodded. “Okay. And you’ll... stay with me?”

Dean squeezed him, then resumed rubbing circles into his back. This was unusual territory for him. A hug that’s lasted this long was rare for him. But Cas was feeling bad, feeling awful, and Dean would be damned if he let him. If Cas wants Dean to stay by his side during this, then so be it. “Of course, Cas. Of course...”

----

Alright, that’s it for now. I got carried away ajshfkajhfaj but fuck it I’m actually invested in this AU now, dammit. This wasn’t part of the plan!!

Now to tag some lovely people <3 your comments brighten my day

@arimeii @marvelmisha @astermacguffin @cursed-byesexual @kichisk2020

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wormstacheangel · 3 years

Text

9th of December

Hello! Have a snow ball fight! That’s it. Enjoy! :) Masterpost link

Summary: So these are set in 2021 after Cas was rescued from the Empty. He is working on remodeling their new home, Jack is a Nephilim again, Dean works in a garage and they all live together as a happy family with Miracle the dog. Sam and Eileen are still hunters who mostly kick ass from the bunker as they run the network. More family’s and friends pop up along the way because everything is fine and nothing hurts!

Cas sat with a hot mug of coffee in his hands on the porch steps to stare fondly at his son and boyfriend battling to make the biggest snowman.

“You better not be using your powers!” Dean called out, a little too loud but it was still early in the morning and maybe the neighbors weren't paying them any attention.

It was a nice heavy snowfall that left everything beautifully white and fluffy looking. The smell of freshness and wet filled the air bringing calm into the world. Reminding them once again about the curtains they needed in the kitchen.

Best of all, Dean gets the day off.

Jack laughed as the small head Dean tried to carry on top of his snowman fell apart in his hands. A loud curse escaped his lips and he threw the excess snow at Jack who tried to dodge the cold ice. Somehow that ended with Jack throwing some snow back at his father and Dean chasing him around the yard with Miracle barking and chasing after them. Her tail wagged back in fourth while she tried to jump and keep up. They were both laughing when Jack used a small amount of grace to have snow be thrown around. Dean got his revenge as he made a perfect snowball. He aimed at the back of Jack’s head but their kid turned around at the last second. Getting hit square in the face.

Cas couldn’t stop his own laughter when Dean’s face filled with panic when Jack fell back. His boyfriend ran over to their kid to check on him only to get a face filled with snow in return.

“Oh you think this is funny, babe?” Dean looked at Cas with a familiar twinkle of mischief as he shook off the snow. When Dean took a step towards him Cas froze.

“Dean, you better fuck off.”

Dean looked towards Jack who nodded in understanding then Cas heard the front door close and lock.

“Dean,” Cas put his mug down as he hesitantly tried to stand up to head back to the front door. The whole time looking at his son and boyfriend both making a snowball. “I’m not dressed correctly for this and I’ll ra-oof!”

Cas gets hit twice, one in the face that he was sure Dean threw while the second one his chest. Miracle barked up at them in excitement because she knew that he was now part of the game.

“Fine.” Cas wiped his face from the cold and rolled his shoulders back. “Just a reminder I have the best aim between us all and I am not taking any mercy.”

Cas jumped off his porch to scoop up some snow and make a snowball. Dean and Jack shared a worried glance between them.

“Babe, it’s just a game.” Dean reminds him but Cas shook his head.

“It’s war and the winner gets to pick tonight's dinner.”

“I want pancakes!” Jack excitedly yelled as he started scooping some snow in his hands.

“Ruh-roh!” Dean hid behind his half finished snowman.

“Miracle, count us in.” Jack called out to her who sat happily in between all three of them. At her third bark the snow flew.

At dinner that night they sat around the TV watching The Santa Clause while the fire warmed up the living room. They made grilled cheese sandwiches and Dean’s homemade tomato soup because it was Cas’s favorite comfort food.

“Achoo!” Cas sneezed and sniffled. “Oh, Dean, I better not get fucking sick.”

“You’re fine babe just keep yourself warm.” He reached over and kissed Cas’s cheek. “Just to make sure, I’ll go get you a pill.”

“I can just heal-”

“No, I think you used enough grace for one night.” Dean passed Jack and patted his head. “Save it up for emergencies.”

Cas sneezed through the night. He hit Dean with his pillow when he couldn’t go back to sleep.

“Fuck you, Dean.”

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Tag List: (ask to be added or removed)

@galaxycastiel @superduckbatrebel @slipper007 @wikiangela @s-r-clowns

@ar-bi-trary @winchestcas

@imlivingliferightnow @thefaeriemagic3 @bi-bi-marie @nguyenxtrang @dancerdovegirl @chocolatecakecas @trasherasswood @celestialcastiel @castiel-is-a-cat

Let me know if you’re not getting tagged cause maybe I’m doing something wrong...sorry my first time doing something like this. Also imagine Dean saying that to cas lol okay sorry bye thanks

#Destiel #Deancas #Supernatural #SPN #A More Profound OTP #My writing #spnadventcalendar #destiel advent calendar #destiel fanfic #Jack #Jack Winchester #A Child #dadstiel

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daiseukiis · 3 years

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ┊ 01 ┊ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭 ┊ 03

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀"DOES HE HAVE A DEATH WISH?" kiyara wonders, annoyed at the current predicament.

"won't gojo-sensei be fine? isn't he the strongest shaman?" itadori soon catches up to fushiguro and kiyara who had a head start, kugisaki running right behind the two of them. the two were still confused, what was wrong?

an exasperated sigh leaves the pale blonde's lips, "god, he's not even here but i can already feel that man's ego growing." rolling her eyes they all took a turn towards the school, breaths escaping their bodies in patterns to keep their heart running and going.

kiyara knew this feeling. usually her hitches and feelings towards a certain thing were never wrong so far, why would it suddenly be wrong now?

"that's not what we're worried about." fushiguro explains them, but their confusion increased more than it needed to be. he glanced at them and groaned, 'of course they wouldn't know.'

"it's the two strongest jujutsu sorcerers possibly wiping the school off the map." the blonde says.

there was a pause between all four, the two staring at her back with wide eyes and disbelief. "w-wait... are you implying mizuki-sensei is as strong as him?"

"she can definitely put him at bay."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"fuck." fushiguro breathes out.

there stood all four students witnessing that most of their school buildings wer wrapped in black like mistー shadows. at first their response was that they were under attack, but that thought was dismissed when their eyes fell to the two teachers on the ground in front of them.

one female had flowing chocolate hair, strands which touched the ground as she laid atop their sensei's waist. pure annoyance was written all over her facial as amethyst eyes focus on her target. the strength of her body tries oh so hard to make the dagger in her two hands break through gojo's infinity, but to no avail.

the shaman on his back on the ground had his signature smirk gracing his lips, he was mocking her. anyone could see that her efforts to break his jujutsushiki was entertaining him, and he knew for a fact barely any to none could beat him, and she was no exception even after multiple spars and fights.

it was either a draw or her utter defeat.

"tch, strong bastard." she groans, throwing the dagger away after struggling to stab the snow haired male. the dagger faded into black and disappeared under her shadow. standing up from the mounted position she prompted a hand on her hip.

"still feisty, yusa." gojo smirks at her, yet a tick mark pops above her head and standing up after mizuki.

"please, for the love of the gods leave me alone." she looks at gojo's blindfold, hoping in some unearthly means he would actually listen to her for once in his life. but the teasing she earned right after was not it. "awh~ but your reactions are too cute! it's hard not to."

a straight was thrusted right at gojo's face, one he was able to tilt his head far enough to dodge. attempting to hit her with his right fist towards the stomach, mizuki spun into a round house kick and caught his arm after it extended out whilst her foot was stopped an inch before it landed on his head.

"she's... cool." itadori and kugisaki couldn't help but stare in awe.

"she's second to best from gojo-sensei, but the strongest female jujutsu sorcerer." kiyara glances back to her two companions that were new to the school, smiling at them as they both showed their excitement. "and she's going to be our sensei?!"

"yeah, amazing right?" the smile she gave was bright, kiyara couldn't be any prouder to see others admire her aunt after all the hardships and struggles she's been through.

"i'm just glad that they didn't destroy half the school like last time." fushiguro comments as the two behind him freeze up upon hearing his words. kiyara gives a light chuckle, "we don't talk about it..."

mizuki let go of gojo's arm as she plants her foot back down to the ground, her black coat fell to her calves as it slightly taps her knee high combat boots. black pants and top designed in the same way as almost every other sorcerer, she sighs.

"the new ichinen?" mizuki looks their direction, one click of her heel and the black mist that engulfed the area started to retreat back into her shadow. gojo gave a grin, his hand out gesturing for her to approach the four.

'the shadows disappeared!' itadori and kugisaki's mouths fell as they got starstruck by the simple gesture which unraveled everything.

"yusa, meet kugisaki nobara and itadori yuji." the said two straigthen up when the tall shaman inspected the two, "ryoumen sukuna's host, huh? reminds me of someone."

"right? i thought so too! too bad she's overseas right now." gojo slings his arm around mizuki's shoulder as his chin rests on her collarbone behind her figure, grinning from ear to ear as a thumbs up was shown to the students. she grimaces at his actions, mizuki slaps his hand as a way to tell him to get his heavyass off her.

"who?" they chorus.

"you guys also don't know?!" itadori and kugisaki point at kiyara and fushiguro who flinch at tne sudden upbringing, yelling back at their classmates and pointing at their teachers in resort. "how would we? they never tell us anything!"

"right," mizuki breaks up their yelling fest, right hand planting on gojo's face and pushs it away from hers. the male lets out a string of complaints, which she continues to ignore and successfully pushes his body off hers. her hand lands on her hip and shifts her body to one leg causing her to accentuate her curves.

"where's my daughter?" she demands.

"mimi-chan's right here!" kugisaki takes a step to the side and gestures to the girl behind her. or so, was supposed to be there. their eyes look at the empty space that she introduced, gojo and mizuki furrow their brows as a question mark appears above their heads.

'we left her at kuidaore!' thunder struck behind the three of them, jaws dropping to the ground the moment they realize she was not even on sight. their skin went pale and blood turned cold, the gloomy aura ungulfs the teens as different worse case scenarios play in their mind.

"ah, there you are my little flower." gojo stands in front nomari who stood a few meters away from the group, his hands wrapping around her waist and bringing her up into his arms.

'how did she get there?!' itadori exclaims in his mind, shocked to see the child in perfect condition at her spot. kugisaki let out a small sigh of relief, hand over her chest and quickly smiled so mizuki wouldn't see that it was a mistake, 'yikes... that was close.'

'wait, so she walked here by herself..?' fushiguro ponders making kiyara groan and facepalm softly, 'we're such idiots.'

"hands off her sato. geez, you'll make her stupid." mizuki walks over to the two, her arms out to take her daughter back but gojo only pouts and swerves her, "heey, that's so mean yusa!"

itadori watches with his classmates on how the trio interacts, mizuki being continously annoyed by gojo as nomari kept the expression of her wondering exactly why she was stuck in their quarrel. yet something didn't add up to him, "mizuki-sensei actually looks really young... how old is she?"

in the next second the pinkett was powerfully punched in the face, kicked and screamed at by kugisaki that held a fist at itadori who laid on the ground with a bump on his head. "you idiot! how inconsiderate! you don't ask a lady her age! this is why you don't have a girlfriend!"

"i'm just curious!" he defends.

"it's still rude y'know!?" kugisaki screams.

'good thing i never asked...' fushiguro continues to keep quiet, watching the fuss go one beside kiyara who was just tired at this point. other than the fact she returned overseas from a mission, bombarded with new people and hadn't taken a nap just yet to replenish her dying sleeping schedule. listen, she just wants her bed and food at this point.

"do you know, kiyara?" itadori asks her, popping the girl out of her small break down. kugisaki in the background continued to yell at him for prolonging the situation and asking other alternatives which she thought was still rude concerning that it was about private information about a woman.

"sorry, but i don't. i just thought it wasn't my business." kiyara scratches the nape of her neck, a hand out in apology to the boy. 'well, it was more to the fact that she always looked like she never wanted to talk about it...'

"almost sixteen."

"what?"

"yusa was almost sixteen when she had mari." gojo answers their questions, all eyes turning to focus on their white haired teacher that stuffs his hands into his pockets.

it took a while for them to register what he said, staring at gojo's figure to make sure if he said ant words about joking they would only get mad at him, but it never came. their lashes blink thrice, processing his words as the shock from it barely passed over them.

"that's really... young." kugisaki still couldn't recover from the disbelief, but fushiguro was the first to question gojo on his words. "what do you mean almost?"

"is that because they're both december babies?" kiyara adds on, taking a step forward filled with curiosity. she knew close to nothing about her aunt when it came to her younger days, she never said anything about it which led her to believe that it was a topic one she should never ask about. but now, maybe, just maybe, gojo had the answers to her questions.

"her early high school years is what you could say were the darkest points of her life," he starts, but his attention was nowhere near his students. his gaze fell to where mizuki and nomari were, watching the child hand her mother sweets she bought at the cafe and the smile that would light up the world as she embraced her loving girl.

"did you know the woman right there was known as the disgrace of the mizuki clan? until one day she showed up being as a special grade sorcerer and crashed the main estate, it was really a sight."

"gojo-san, you're sounding like a simp." kiyara snorts.

"i'm not a simp. but you might want to check with yourself if you're not one for, you know." quickly snapping back at her, he smirks and gestures his head with a little nod to the boy that stood beside kiyara.

his words made her cheeks flush, knowing full well he cracked a code he should have not to begin with. "go away!" her arms flung to push the older man from her group, but the blush that tinted her face remained pigmented and prominent. it only got worst when he chuckled, ears being coated by the same pink.

"no can do! i'm your awesome sensei, remember?" gojo gloats as his hands stop kiyara's effortless advances to push him out of the group circle.

the three students stand there lost in the conversation, 'they seem close...'

"can you stop picking on my niece, sato?" mizuki puts a hand on the sensei's shoulder, he grins and stops his movements as kiyara mirrors him, letting out a small huff. nomari shifts over to gojo who notices it and picks her up into his arms once more.

"anyways, get ready for tomorrow." mizuki hands nomari the bag of sweets she had, the child taking out and showing daifuku to gojo. he grins widely and lets her feed him the dessert as the others blink at the interaction but decide to ignore it.

"do we have a mission?" fusiguro asks. mizuki sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and stares at all four students.

"a high grade one."

tags ; @to-move-on-means-to-grow @dearsukuna @sukun4s

notes ; these are probs gonna be all qued bc im lazy

DO NOT REPOST 、 MODIFY 、 CLAIM WORK OR LAYOUT AS YOURS.

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yeaahishowedupatyourparty · 3 years

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LOTTIE’S CAREER: AN ONGOING POST

This is long, I’m sorry, but I’ve done it like this so I can keep track of it. Especially when we leave next gen and then come back to it later on.

CURRENT ERAS

Lottie Bradford (Debut): An album her father helped her produce and release while she was in high school. It was fun but didn’t have much success. It just gave her a taste of what the industry was like.

Fearless: Lottie dropped out of school to focus on music completely. She moved to Los Angeles to work on her second album without any distractions. Fearless was the result of this. It did well, but not well enough to justify not returning to Springs Park.

Speak Now: Speak Now was the first album she wrote while being a Liberty student. At this point, she had an advantage over her peers. She knew how to go about recording, promoting and marketing which meant she was one of the first from the academy to have a tour, which gave it more hype. At the moment, it’s her most successful era to date.

Red (Unreleased): Red is set to be released before the talent academy tour comes to an end. She’s enjoying promoting her singles and will put together a tour-like show to perform in each country when the album is out. It’s a lot more personal and was designed to give her fans the chance to get to know who she is and what she’s going through.

SONGS FOR ANNABEL - Her mother

I’m Only Me When I’m With You

The Best Day

Never Grow Up

Holy Ground (based around Drew & Annabel’s romance)

SONGS FOR ELIJAH - Her first boyfriend Elijah was her first boyfriend through a lot of high school, she eventually drifted from him and didn’t know he’s struggling with his sexuality. Not only was he her first big love, but also her first huge heartbreak. It took her a VERY long time to move on.

Tim McGraw

Stay Beautiful

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My)

Our Song

Fearless

Love Story

Hey Stephen

Breathe

Forever & Always

Forever & Always (Piano)

Come In With The Rain

You All Over Me

That’s When

Don’t You

Bye Bye Baby

Back to December

SONGS FOR FLYNN - An ongoing crush & friend Flynn has been her best friend for a long time. She’s developed feelings for him slowly, but doesn’t quite realise it. They’ll probably go through a lot before they both come to terms with it.

Today was a Fairytale

I Almost Do

Stay Stay Stay

Everything Has Changed

Starlight

SONGS FOR AVERY - An unrequited crush Like a lot of girls, Avery is somebody she instantly started crushing on when she got to Liberty. He seemed more interested in Yasmine, though, which sparked some jealousy in her.

Speak Now

Enchanted

Better Than Revenge (Yasmine/Daisy oop)

Treacherous

SONGS FOR JACE - Her boyfriend in late school Lottie and Jace started dating after she moved to Los Angeles and broke up with Elijah. They dated for just under a year and broke it off when Lottie decided to go back home to finish school. Their relationship was VERY up and down and nothing like the romance she was used to with Elijah.

Tell Me Why

The Way I Loved You

Jump Then Fall

Untouchable

Superstar

The Other Side of the Door

We Were Happy

Mr Perfectly Fine

Mine

Sparks Fly

The Story of Us

Haunted

Last Kiss

We Are Never Getting Back Together

The Last Time

The Moment I Knew

Come Back...Be Here

SONGS FOR ETHAN - Her first boyfriend in Liberty Ethan is Lottie’s current boyfriend and it’s all very new and shiny. They’re both strong-minded people and are looking to gain attention from being a Liberty couple. There ARE feelings there, but slowly they both begin to fight to be the star of the relationship.

Red

I Knew You Were Trouble

Begin Again

All Too Well

Sad Beautiful Tragic

SONGS FOR PETER C - Frenemies Before Lottie was with Elijah, Peter was her ultimate crush. He sort of led her on in the childish way pre-teen boys do before getting with Bianca. But, she got the last laugh when he drunkenly hit on her years later at Liberty and she put him on blast in a song.

Picture to Burn

Teardrops on my Guitar

Cold As You

Should’ve Said No

Invisible

A Perfectly Good Heart

White Horse

You Belong With Me

You’re Not Sorry

Dear John

Girl At Home

SONGS FOR HER FRIENDS

Tied Together With A Smile - Louisa

Fifteen - Maddie, Louisa and her high school friends

Innocent - Yasmine, once they got closer

Long Live - Salem, Yasmine, Violet and Flynn

The Lucky One - Violet

SONGS ABOUT HER LIFE IN GENERAL

A Place In This World

The Outside

Fifteen

Change

Mean

State of Grace

Starlight

SONGS HANDED TO HER

Both of Us (Maverick’s song)

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sardonicnihilism · 3 years

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A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 5 The Older Woman

Chapter 5

The rest of 2018 and 2019 passed in fairly unremarkable fashion. The kids kept seeing the counselor, Jerry's behavior and grades improved until he was one of his grades top students. Tabatha, likewise, did extremely well academically. Jerry joined the school soccer team and took up violin, and Tabatha took up piano, guitar, and drums. While life continued with its normal ups and downs, it really did seem like the worst was behind them.

Even when 2020 hit like a meteor, it still didn't affect Shannon and her family that much. Both Sam and Shannon were deemed essential workers, and therefore kept their jobs. The schools shut down, but Shannon did home lessons over the summer and the kids did remote learning in the fall. Jerry struggled, having a hard time staying focused, but Tabatha did exceptionally well.

It was November when things started to go to Hell for them personally. Shannon started noticing a pain in her right chest and shoulder. It would constantly ache, and if she moved too fast, bolts of sharp, white hot pain would shoot through her body. At first she thought it was just muscle strain from lifting too much (she had gotten back into weight training to lose weight), but when she had taken a week off and there was no improvement, she knew she had to see a doctor.

Here appointment was in December, the week after Christmas. The doctor checked her out and then chewed her out. She was 47 years old and had never had a mammogram. Shannon reluctantly agreed to have one and her doctor made the appointment.

Shannon got her mammogram the second week of January at 8:50 AM. By 3:30 PM, she had three messages saying she should contact them immediately. Shannon had breast cancer. More than that, it had already spread to other parts of her body. After a consultation with the entire family, they decided on an aggressive treatment plan. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Shannon's health declined rapidly. Most of her hair fell out and she shrank from 252 pounds to 110. She was week and tired all the time. She mostly laid in bed, only getting up to use the bathroom; usually to vomit. It was decided that she would enter the hospital for her final days.

Sam would visit everyday. At first he brought the kids with him every time, then every other day, and then they would only come once a week on Sundays. By the end of April, it was clear it was only a matter of days.

Sam's last visit was on a Sunday. It was a perfect spring day. It was so warm and sunny that it made Sam angry. It seemed like a cosmic insult to everything he and Shannon were going through. However, he had managed to purge himself of his bitterness by the time he had gotten to Shannon's room.

She was staring out the window, a contemplative smile gracing her gaunt face. Her hands were folded in her lap and she looked almost transcendent.

"How's the most beautiful woman in the world doing today?" he asked with forced happiness as he entered her room.

Shannon turned to him and smiled as happy a smile as she could. "I don't know. I haven't seen her today," she joked back in her weak, hoarse voice.

Sam grabbed a chair and sat beside her. "How're you sweetie?" he asked with a hushed sadness.

"I'm ok. Best as possible I suppose. I was just thinking I beat mom by a month. She passed in April, I made it all the way to May. Of course she beats me on years though." Shannon's sense of gallows humor was not only still there, but had become stronger than ever.

"I tried to get the kids to come out, but they just couldn't," Sam said apologetically.

Shannon just waved her hand. "It's ok, my family never did do death well."

She turned back to the window and started talking as much to herself as to Sam. "I was going to ask you to make a recording of me saying my farewells to the kids, but then I thought if I really wanted this to be the last and forever image of me; a sad, shriveled up husk of a human being - an image of sadness and loss? That just seems too cruel. I'd rather be forgotten if that is the case."

"You'll never be forgotten," Sam tried to reassure her.

She turned back to him, smiling even more. "We're all forgotten eventually darling." She then reached out and took his hand. "It's been a life, hasn't it?"

"It sure has," he said, trying to smile, but tears were already starting to run down his cheek. "And I thank you for being the love of mine."

"As you are with mine," she said in a peaceful voice.

"No, you don't have to say that. You don't have to pretend." He shook his head as he spoke. He didn't want their potentially last moments to be filled with lies.

"Who's pretending?" Shannon said, sounding almost happy, like he had just told her a joke. "What? You think because I'm not romantically or sexualy attracted to you, that means you're not the love of my life? People put so much emphasis on romantic love. Darling, you were far more than a lover. Being a lover is easy. You were a friend." She then brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it.

Sam was now weeping heavily. "The first time I met you in the library, I knew I loved you," he choked out.

"When I was a little girl, I asked my grandfather why he kept the dogs outside. He said because animals don't belong in the house. That night, my biological mother, left me in her car while she went into the bar. I was alone, freezing. I wondered if maybe I was an animal and that's why I was being left alone.

"My entire life I felt alone, unloved, unlovable. I was angry and bitter and I hurt anyone or thing I could so they would feel what I felt. I caused so much pain.

"Then I met Jen and I thought I found love. I loved her and I thought she loved me, but she only loved what she thought I was. When I turned out not to be that, she turned her back on me and I went off the deep end.

"And then there was you. You made me laugh. I could talk to you about anything. I felt safe around you; not physically, but emotionally. I became a better person because of you.

"Even when I came out to you, you didn't turn me away, throw me out, which I would have understood if you did. You never stopped being my rock, my shoulder to cry on, the clown to make me laugh when I was crying. You never stopped being my friend."

"And I never will," Sam barely choked out.

"And that is why you're the love of my life."

Sam got up and they embraced. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and she gave him one the cheek. They spent the next five hours just reminiscening and joking.

"I better get going, I suppose," Sam said reluctantly. "I can't leave the kids alone all day, but I don't want to leave you alone either. Not to die at least."

"We all die alone honey, even if we're surrounded by people," she said with a smile. "Go. You're a father and your kids need you. I'm already dead. The only thing the dead need is rest. Just, just tell the kids I love them."

"Always," he said tearfully.

A couple hours after he left, she began to feel really tired, her fingers and toes started going numb. She knew the time had come.

She started thinking about tombstones. A name, a dash, and another date. Everything she was, everything she had been, reduced to a small line, carved in a stone that would survive long after she had been forgotten. It seemed unfair, cruel even.

She then thought about something else, something she had learned back in college. She thought about quantum entanglement, how two atoms can become entangled, linked forever across time and space, eternal mirrors to each other.

Her mind then darted to the concept of the multiverse. How there might be infinite universes out, each with their own version of her. What if two versions could be linked somehow? Entangled? What if her mirror was out there? Could she reach her? Could her mind link across dimensions to one of her other selves to share her story?

*Please, please, if can hear me, please tell my story. Please don't let me be forgotten!*, she thought over and over to herself, trying to reach out to anyone who might hear until her brain ceased to function and she passed away.

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

Shannon Brown was born on November 22, 1975 to a single, alcoholic mother. He was taken in by his grandparents and his aunt Mary who raised him as her own. It is Mary who he considers to be his real mother. His biological mother, Kathy, would have two other children, a girl named Tracy (1977) and Paul Jr. (1979).

By about 4 or 5, Shannon knew that he wasn't a he, but a she, but having no language to express this, she kept this to herself. Shannon grew up alone, morbidly obese for most of her life, she never really had any friends and was constantly bullied and picked on. This made her angry and she would often act out in horrible and usually, self destructive ways.

She did manage to lose weight and was thin from 19 to 24. It was at this time she met her future wife, Samantha Hopwood online. Samantha, an Australian citizen, eventually moved to the United States and they got married in 2001. In 2009, their first child, Joshua was born.

It was after that, Shannon came out to Samantha as transgender. It caused a lot of pain and anger in their marriage, but they were able to work through some of it so that they had their second child, Tara, in 2011. In 2020, after years of being partially closeted, Shannon came out to everyone on Facebook (much to the horror of her wife).

It was about this time that Shannon discovered an app called FaceApp. It could change your photo to look like a child, old person, even the opposite physical gender. Shannon took a picture of herself, femininized it, and then took that new picture and reaged it from a little girl to an old woman. As Shannon stared at the pictures, she couldn't help but marvel over how real they looked! These looked like real pictures of an actual person.

"Who are you?" she said to herself. "Who are you, what is your story?" The more she stared at the pictures, the more she could almost hear this stranger call out, "Please, please, tell my story." It was then Shannon knew what she had to do. She opened her Tumblr app, hit the write symbol, and began-

A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 1: The Girl

Chapter 1

*This story is dedicated to the memory of H.P. Lovecraft; a horrible man, but great world builder. This wouldn't exist without him.*

#fiction #dark #drama #queer stories #slice of life #sad #fantasy #lovecraft

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spiritusvitaerp · 4 years

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“i can do this, i thought. then: and even if i can’t, i have to.”

NAME: Mary Macdonald AGE: 17 HOUSE: Ravenclaw

BIOGRAPHY

Mary Macdonald was born to Grace and Jonathan Macdonald on a chilly December morning, the duo had been a bit concerned right off the bat – the baby girl wasn’t a crier. With their first child, they had let all the horror stories and fears take over - done a bit more research than necessary, definitely preparing for anything and everything and yet what they were pleasantly surprised to find was Mary was a baby with quite the mellow temperament. A girl with a mind of her own and yet respectful – the odd combination still kept her fiercely independent. Her parents didn’t get much time to get caught up with confusion and concern, Mary had shown signs of magic a bit later than normal, just a few days after her tenth birthday – she had realized that she was quite sane and her parents hadn’t hired help to take care of her room. the clothes that were often strewn across the floors of her room had found themselves into her closet on her watch. eyes widening as she watched her jumper fly into the closet, she couldn’t help but shriek and garner her parents attention. They didn’t have to wait too long for answers as a wizard appeared at their doorstep late one afternoon.

Always a passionate researcher, she didn’t hesitate to jump into her new copy of history of magic, she didn’t doubt her position in ravenclaw for a second, what the sorting hat had roared was further validation of what she knew in her heart. The word muggleborn didn’t mean too much to Mary till the politics of the wizarding world seeped into the castle walls – till she had managed to garner Mulciber’s attention. it had all started off quite innocently, or as innocently intimidation could be – glares here and there and then that’s when it started getting out of hand, the occasional shove. Mary Macdonald was not quiet, she was not timid, but she was patient – she herself was trying to understand how something that ran through her veins, a gift that was given to her could instigate so much hate. it all came crashing down the night of the attack – she had gone out to sneak a quick snack and there he was. For the first time, she felt true fear – she could barely breathe as she whipped out her wand and it was all a blur – if she was ever thankful for anything, it was the adrenaline. that rush that urged her to fight back, that need to not bend. Mary Macdonald was no victim and she was not going to let a bully like Mulciber make her out to be one, she left him in the halls – quick to tend to her own wounds. She didn’t speak of that night – she didn’t want to go on record, she had done more damage than he could have possibly inflicted on her and the last thing she needed to fear was expulsion, even it had been self-defence.

It didn’t matter – it was over. That was what she had read in the daily prophet, the war that was threatening to tear down these walls, it was over and what had happened was just an event throughout it. Mary was focused now more than ever to get back to a routine, she didn’t have to worry about the slander, her eyes were now set on her future outside of these walls and trying to find her place in this world.

AESTHETIC

witty puns, soft laughter, denim everything, tattered literature, feminist to her core, adorer of tulips, brazenly outspoken, hoarder of chocolate frog cards, kind eyes, will take a secret to her grave, friendship is a privilege.

TRAITS

+ driven + dilligent

- overcritical - secretive

CONNECTIONS

1. Greta Catchlove Mary struggled with letting people in, it was her signature trait and yet Greta never cared for her icier exterior, that girl was lava and she’d melt away any of her unnecessary aggression. She didn’t have that many friends, but she did consider Greta as irreplaceable.

2. Sirius Black He was infuriatingly good – he was the kind of genuine good that mary found frustrating because merlin knew that he came off as a prick. she had needed a laugh, after the incident she was in desperate need of a good laugh and he had satisfied it – the boy had her in hysterics despite herself. he got under her skin, in a good way and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

3. Marlene Mckinnon was the only soul besides herself and mulciber that knew what exactly went down that night. she thought she had been slick, that she could just leave without a single soul knowing what had happened but she had been wrong. she turned to see the girl just simply staring, expression just blank. she knew marlene – she was a slytherin and she could only naturally assume that she wouldn’t be on her side. she was just a muggleborn. mary has been avoiding her like the plague – she had a future to protect and she couldn’t afford to lose it.

this character is OPEN for applications and their board can be found HERE.

#harry potter rp #Marauders RP #marauders era rp #hp rp #openfm #openrav #mary macdonald

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resident-of-storybrooke · 5 years

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Making My Way To You

Summary: What happens when a stubborn Sheriff Emma Swan loses her soulmate mark, only to meet Killian Jones five years later? Will the two find love during the holiday season, or perhaps were they always meant to be?

Rated: T (for language and a bit of angst)

Word count: wee bit above 9.5k

A/N: I am excited to reveal that this is my @cssecretsanta2k18 gift for @imagnifika It has been an absolute joy getting to talk to you over these last few weeks!! I loved writing this story for you, and I hope you enjoy this! Still can’t believe I didn’t ruin the surprise! A massive thank you to @kymbersmith-90 and @hookedonapirate for their help with this story!! I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday season!!

You can read this on: ff.net, ao3, or wattpad

December 23, 2013 Storybrooke, MA

As Emma drove the cruiser down the street, she took a deep breath in, taking pause over how far she’d come in her life. An orphan left on the side of the road by her “parents”, bounced around from home to home, and the whole Neal thing. Yet despite everything, here she was, a proud member of the Storybrooke PD, with a decent apartment, and some friends. For the first time, she felt comfortable with herself.

She had only joined SPD six months ago, but it felt right. She loved her job, and even her co-workers were slowly growing on her. Emma had been top of her class at the academy and was able to quickly put to rest any pranks usually played on rookies. The way she carried herself, everyone respected her and treated her instantly as an equal - not a probe.

She was the first of her class to be allowed to patrol alone. Although it was only the graveyard shift, Emma didn’t mind at all. She felt as though it gave her time to really become comfortable with the town, to learn some of the ins and outs. Not that there was much to learn. But she still appreciated the adjustment period that Sheriff Graham gave her.

The streets were dead, as they typically were in Storybrooke, even more so on a Monday night. Although this was a cute town, not a lot of people passed through unless they were heading to Boston, and wanted a detour.

Most people were already home for the night, and anyone who was out was harmless. Emma pulled up to the intersection, the only one in town with an actual light. It had taken her a few months to get used to the idea of living in such a small town, but it had eventually grown on her. And now, Storybrooke felt like home.

Then it happened.

In a blink of an eye, Emma watched as the semi truck barely missed her, ran the red light, and then collided with another car. The semi spun out of control, only stopping once it ran into the town’s Christmas tree. The vehicle, however, flipped twice before it finally came to a halt.

Without a second thought, Emma jumped into action, calling for backup and an ambulance, as she sprinted out of her car. She went first to the semi truck, the driver was moaning in pain, but conscious enough for Emma to go and check on the vehicle.

As Emma approached the other vehicle if you could still call it that, she was terrified of what she would find inside. She knew accidents happened, and this was a part of the job, but she just knew this one was going to be bad. The Chevy Malibu had probably been new, but right then it looked like a crushed soda can.

As she approached the car she saw two people inside, a male driver and a female passenger. The passenger’s side was crashed, from where the semi had crashed into. The woman appeared to be in her late thirties, brown hair. She looked beautiful. However, there were cuts all over her body. Without even having to check for a pulse, Emma knew that she was already gone. She could only hope that the woman hadn’t suffered unnecessarily. Emma took a breath, silently praying that this stranger had found some peace.

She quickly ran around to the driver’s side, where she got her first look at him. His black hair was a mess from the wreck, and he had a few cuts, but nothing like the injuries his passenger had sustained. Emma was able to rip the door open, and attempted to check his pulse. It was faint, but he was still alive. For now.

With a quick sigh of relief, Emma tried to assess the damage done to him. As she decided to look for anything, but as she gently dropped her fingers from his neck, she heard him grumble in pain.

“Sir, my name is Em - Officer Swan. I am going to help you. Sir, jut....” He responded only with a groan, but Emma would take what she could get for the moment.

It was then when she spotted his left hand. It had been completely torn to shreds as if he was trying to protect the female passenger, while the car was rolling. Emma realized a sigh of relieved when she heard the sounds of sirens in the distance, thankful that this man would soon be getting the help he so desperately needed.

“Sir, do you hear that? They’re coming to help. Sir? Sir!” He wasn’t responding anymore, and Emma knew what she needed to do. She reclined the chair as far back as she could, and moved him up so she could begin performing CPR.

“Come back to me. Come on, dammit,” she screamed in between breaths and compressions. Emma had to save him. She knew it was a part of her job, but there was something more. Something told her that she couldn’t let him go.

She continued administering CPR until the EMTs arrived to take over.

“Help him, please. Watch his left hand, it’s...you’ll see.” One of the EMTs ran over to the other side, but Emma stopped him before he could open the door, “She’s...she’s gone. The driver, he’s still alive, but he needs a lot of help.” They nodded in appreciation of the information, and Emma slowly backed away from the scene.

Sheriff Graham walked over to her, instantly bringing her into his arms. Graham was only a few years older than Emma, but he acted like her big brother. Emma must’ve been in shock, as she still couldn’t move her arms to go around him. “You did good, Emma. I hope you know that. Go home, and get some rest.” Emma was about to argue that she needed to finish her shift, but Graham added, “that’s an order officer. You need to rest. Get in the cruiser, Blanchard will drive you home.”

Emma looked over to see her fellow rookie officer, Mary Margaret Blanchard, waiting for her. She slowly made her way over to where the other woman was expecting, and Mary Margaret didn’t hesitate to wrap Emma up in her arms before she escorted Emma to the cruiser.

Mary Margaret drove them both in silence. They understood this was a part of the job, but this was Emma’s first accident, and she had a feeling she’d never forget her first. As her fellow rookie put the car into park Emma realized they were not at her complex, but before she could speak, Mary Margaret interrupted her.

“Emma, I know we haven’t known each other very long, and I have a feeling you usually keep to yourself. But I just - well I just figured tonight maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone.” They sat there in more silence, as Emma tried to process why this woman was so kind to her, even though they barely knew each other. “Listen, if I was wrong to do this tell me, and I will drive you back to your place, but I wanted to-”

“No, thank you. This is, uh...I’d like to stay here.”

Mary Margaret just nodded, as she attempted to keep her enthusiasm at a minimum, knowing this was not the best reason for a sleepover. As they walked into her apartment, Emma was still on autopilot and she remained that way as she attempted to get ready for bed.

Before Emma went upstairs to the guest bedroom, Mary Margaret stopped her. “Hey, you know I’m here for you, right? As much or as little as you want, I have your back.”

Emma was overwhelmed by the woman’s kind words and finally pulled Mary Margaret in for a hug, as she let out the tears she had so desperately tried to hold back. After a few moments, she finally managed to pull herself together. Giving Mary Margaret one last squeeze, before both women headed for their own beds for the night.

Emma knew she did everything right. Or she thinks she did everything she could to help everyone involved. She knew that needed to move on from the accident, and not let it hold her back from being the officer she had always wanted to be.

What Emma failed to realize that night, amidst all the chaos, was that her soulmate mark had disappeared.

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November 2018

As Emma drove the cruiser down the street, she took a deep breath in, taking pause over how far she’d come in her life. After working with SPD for the last five and a half years, Emma had moved up the ranks. In fact, as of last year, she was now the new sheriff of Storybrooke.

No one had really seen it coming, but Graham had decided to step down after he had started his own family. Although Storybrooke wasn't a criminal hotspot, he felt that it was the best decision for his family. Graham had asked Emma if she wanted the job, and at first, she had laughed him off. But when she realized that he was serious, Emma had run unopposed for the position. It was the fastest election in the town’s history.

However, as proud as Emma was of her career success, the real progress was that she now had friends. Friends who had somehow sneaked their way into her life, and she was so thankful for that. Mary Margaret had also worked her way up the ranks, side by side with Emma, and their friendship had grown along the way.

As Emma thought back on how much had changed, she noticed the kid. She had always tried her hardest to give back to others in the community, that’s given so much to her. Emma had made it her mission to make sure anyone who needed some assistance in town, got it. But she took a particular interest in helping the kids of Storybrooke, making sure they always had a warm meal and a place to stay.

Emma recognized this particular kid right away. Grace. Emma knew things weren’t always great at home, for her, and sometimes Grace would roam the streets to find something to eat. She reminded Emma a lot of herself, refusing help at first, and not always trusting of others. However, after a few run-ins Grace had opened up to Emma about her situation, and Emma couldn’t help but take the young girl under her wing.

The two of them made their way to Shelter by the Seashore, a fantastic shelter that always tried its best for the community. Due to Storybrooke’s somewhat limited size, the place’s resources were rather limited as well. Sometimes if the shelter were lucky, some of the more prominent organizations in Boston would send some of their leftovers down to them.

As the two made their way over to the front door, Emma was a little shocked to find a notice tacked to the window while Grace pushed her way inside.

Attention Storybrooke residents,

It is with great sadness we announce that Shelter by the Seashore will be closing its doors after 15 years, after Thanksgiving. It has been with great joy that we have served you, our community. We are forever thankful for the memories we have shared together.

Thank you for everything!

All the love,

Shelter by the Seashore

“Yeah, I know, Emma. It caught me off guard at first, too.” Emma turned her head at the sound of the voice. Ashley was the owner of the shelter and had become a good friend to Emma over the past five years. “But, it’s for a good reason. Someone bought the shelter, they’re going to do this big renovation. It’s going to be better than ever before. We’re even going to have different classes for people to take for free, like how to open a bank account, and help with searching for jobs.”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing, Ashley. But what about you? I thought this place was your life.” Emma moved over to the counter Ashley was sat behind.

“I’m not gonna lie, at first it was heartbreaking. But now? I know the shelter is going to be in better hands. Oh, and the new owner is letting me stay on as manager, so I still get to do the work I love.”

Emma reached her hand out to Ashley’s shoulder and decided to get back out to her cruiser. She had this feeling in her gut, telling her that this new shelter was going to be important, not just for the community, but to her as well.

Emma shook off the feeling as quickly as it had come. She wasn’t some grand romantic, or anything even close to that. With her soulmate mark disappearing a few years ago back, she had completely given up on the idea of finding love.

She thought she had met soulmate one. She had been sure that Neal was it for her. After a life of bouncing around the system, and living on and off the streets, Emma thought she had found someone to make a home with. Neal, however, had different plans.

Before she could carry on with her pity party, Emma decided to snap out it of, and finish her patrol.

She was almost able to ignore the strange sensation on her left wrist.

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December 2018

With all the craziness - as much as Storybrooke could have - over the last few weeks Emma missed the grand opening of the new shelter. When she first saw the name, Neverland Shelter, in the newspaper she couldn’t help but laugh. Emma hoped that this shelter would bring some hope and magic to the area.

Emma drove past the new shelter every day, she meant to stop in by now to introduce herself, but she never had a free moment from work. Speaking of, work seemed to have taken a whole new level of busy. Nothing too crazy, but little squabbles over how late Christmas lights could be on for, a few porch pirates, but nothing SPD couldn’t handle.

As Emma walked into the department for her evening shift Mary Margaret was already there waiting for her with her drink of poison, hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Emma took a moment to reflect on their friendship, how far they’d come in the years since that car accident.

She instantly became a confidant, her person, and someone she was genuinely thankful for. Emma was never a girly girl who had a lot of girlfriends, never had any friends really. And yet, her and Mary Margaret just clicked. Although Mary Margaret loved to tease Emma about finding true love and pushing her to put herself out there, there was an understanding and respect between the two women’s perspective on the whole soulmate thing.

Mary Margaret was your stereotypical fairytale princess, Emma swore she was like the real-life version of Snow White. When Emma found out her marker resembled an apple, Emma about lost her mind, saying she only proved her point further. Mary Margaret ever the optimist kept her eyes out for her Prince Charming. It, of course, wasn’t until a horrible case of a missing child brought SPD and the neighboring town of Lancaster together.

The case was on the brink of driving the LPD insane, they asked Emma and the rest of the department for assistance. Their sheriff, August, reminded Emma a lot of herself and they instantly bonded. However, their bond was more brother/sister than romantic, and Emma was always thankful for their relationship. August didn’t come alone, he brought Deputy David Nolan.

One look and Emma could tell, Mary Margaret and David were smitten They had one of those slow-motion movie moments, even massive love critic Emma knew this was something special.

The Charmings, as Emma dubbed them, took only one week before they showed their soulmate marks revealing they both had an apple on their biceps. One year later they had their fairytale wedding, it was honestly perfect. Now three years later, they even more disgusting in love. As much as Emma loved to make fun of them, she admired their passion and dedication to one another. It wasn’t just because they were soulmates, they legitimately loved each other.

Mary Margaret only asked Emma once about her mark, as closed off as Emma was to love her losing her mark just reified her commitment issues. She explained to Mary Margaret how one day it was here and the next thing Emma knew her mark disappeared from her wrist. Emma wondered if she would ever find someone to spend her life with since she lost her mark Emma believed she lost her soulmate.

“Hey, you okay? You left me for a minute.” Emma was finally pulled out of her own thoughts, eventually grabbing the hot chocolate for her.

“Yeah, sorry about that. You know just thinking about stuff.” Mary Margaret gave her a questioning look but decided not to press Emma on the matter.

“Anyways, I was wondering what your plans were for Christmas? David and I are going to host our annual party, and we wanted to make sure you were still free?”

Emma couldn’t help but to laugh, “Well since I’ve gone to the last four Christmas parties I guess I could make an appearance.”

“Oh good,” Mary Margaret squealed, “and I know we promised no setups, but Davids old friend is going to be there, and I was just hoping you would just help make him feel welcomed. He used to live here a few years ago apparently, but moved back to England for whatever reason.”

Emma gave her friend a wary eye, but figured to give into the Christmas spirit and perhaps being nice to him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Fine, I’ll be nice to him - whoever he may be - as my good deed for the world. Deal?”

“Thank you, Emma. Seriously, we really appreciate it.” Mary Margaret walked over and embraced Emma to help show her thanks.

“Alright, lady time to get to work, I want to make sure all of this is done before Christmas.” Mary Margaret gave a fake salute and went to work herself.

Emma relished in the thought of actually being helpful to their friend, in helping someone adjust to life in Storybrooke, and giving someone perhaps the very same thing Emma once needed - a home.

Before Emma could get too comfortable, a call came in. Someone spotted another teenager on the street, the caller couldn’t get to them in time, but wanted to make sure Emma was aware someone should help take the kid to the shelter. Emma loved these types of calls if she was honest with herself. She loved that everyone looked out everyone else, even if they didn’t know them personally.

When Emma walked outside she decided to leave the cruiser at the station, it was still early enough in her shift that the sun was shining and would be for another hour or so. Luckily, Emma’s hunt for the teen didn’t last too long.

Emma found Kate with ease on Main Street, and even better Kate was more than happy to go to the new shelter with Emma. The two walked in comfortable silence across town to Neverland. Emma was excited to see the renovations and to hopefully meet the owner to finally introduce herself.

When the two women walked to the front door Emma could instantly feel the difference, it was absolutely fantastic. However, Emma’s joy was quickly short lived upon entering the new shelter.

Emma walked up to the counter to find a short blonde hair woman, the name tag said Tink. Either she was really dedicated to the whole Peter Pan thing, or that was an unfortunate coincidence.

“Hey there, I’m Sheriff Swan, I was wondering if you all had room for one more tonight?” Emma turned her attention towards Kate who was sitting in the waiting area which looked more like a living room with the couches and TV.

Sadly, a frown overtook the blonde’s face, “I’m really sorry to say we’re out of beds for the night. We ordered more, but they haven’t come yet, I’m sorry ladies. If you’d like Sheriff Swan, I can give you the number to -”

“Oi, wait for a second, Tink! There’s always room in Neverland!” Emma turned around to see the man with the beautiful British accent was also by far the most handsome man alive, and immediately captured by his baby blue eyes. It seemed she the only one affected, he instantly froze in his place when he saw her too.

“Mr. Jones,” Tink said ruining whatever moment they were having, “we just gave the last bed away for the night.”

“Ah, but you see lady Tink, we did not give all the beds away,” he paused for dramatic effect Emma assumed, “there’s still my bed!”

Emma was in awe of this man, not only was he handsome, but he seemed to have a good heart as well. It was incredible to see someone like this in the community, perhaps he really did bring the magic Emma wished for.

“Are you sure, Mr. Jones? There’s another shelter I can take her to out of town, I don’t want to put you out for the night.”

Mr. Jones finally made his way over to Emma, who seemed to be stuck in place unable to move a muscle. “Aye, love, and please it’s Killian. I have a spare cot in my office, I’ve slept here the last few weeks to make sure everything is in tip-top shape for the opening. Plus I have an apartment with an actual bed I should make use of eventually. Besides, it’d be bad form not to help the sheriff out.”

Emma let out a giggle, which made her seem like a school girl around her first crush. She didn’t even know the man’s first name, and she was already acting like a ten-year-old. “Well then, Mr. Jones seems like we have a deal.”

“Aye, we have an accord. Oh, and remember it’s Killian, love.” Emma reached out her hand to shake his, he immediately reached out to meet her and then she felt it.

This spark.

It was unlike anything Emma had ever felt before, so of course, she quickly removed her hand from his in an attempt to get a hold of herself.

“Well, uh Killian thanks for the extra bed tonight I appreciate it. If you all ever need anything here’s my card or just dial 911 that works too. Well, have a good night!” Emma tried to escape with an ounce of her dignity still intact, but Killian - or fate - had other plans.

Killian quickly reached his left out without even thinking, and seamlessly grabbed Emma back from leaving. What he did not realize was that he used his prosthetic hand instead of his right hand, he then took his turn in quickly removing his hand from Emma.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t think I just -”

“Please, Killian, it’s more than fine,” Emma wanted to reassure him that his prosthetic was nothing to hide or that it was off-putting by any means.

“Right, well good. I know you have to get back to the station it’s...well, uh, you just seem so familiar. Have, have we ever met before?”

Of course, without thinking, Emma said, “I doubt I’d forget a face like yours.” Emma immediately turned bright red while Killian scratched behind his right ear.

“What I meant to say, uh, what I meant was I have an excellent memory, helps with the job, and you have very distinct features that I would not forget if you were in a lineup. Not that you would be in a lineup, you seem like a very stand up guy, I mean look at this shelter! It’s never looked better, and you look fantastic - I mean the shelter looks fantastic. I’m, I am just going to go back to the precinct now so if you need anything please call, but it was nice meeting you, Killian.” Emma finally took a breathe, realizing she hadn’t stopped to breath during that rambling rant.

Killian seemed to enjoy her rambling, he laughed as she came to the end of the speech. In Emma’s attempt to keep any dignity she reached out her hand to give him a farewell shake; however, Killian takes her hand and brings it up to his lips for a soft kiss on the knuckles.

Emma let out a breathy gasp and walked back outside without another word. As she walked away, Emma could still feel it, that spark. She swore it was all inside her head, but she couldn’t shake this feeling. Perhaps it wasn’t just the shelter that brought some magic to Storybrooke, maybe it was a tall, dark, handsome British good-doer.

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For the next week, Emma and Killian could not help but to continuously run into each other. Although Emma made frequent stops at the shelter to see her friends who still worked there and to get the grand tour, but they also ran into each other all over town.

No matter where Emma went, Killian was never far behind her or vise versa. One morning Emma decided to get one last outside run in for the year, and although she was not the fastest woman in the world she enjoyed getting her heart racing.

Not even ten minutes into her run she found Killian, who looked like he was about to begin a run of his own. Emma debated going over to him, not sure where they stood as professionals or if he would consider them friends. Emma was still not over how incredibly handsome he was and somehow made a fool of herself every chance she got.

While the debate continued on in Emma’s head, Killian spotted Emma and decided to work his way over to her. The two ran together, silently challenging and pushing one another throughout their run.

The two parted ways, Killian jokingly mentioned how tomorrow he was going to be at Granny’s around noon if she just so happened to be hungry around that time. At first, Emma felt the panic set in, but quickly it diminished on her own. There was no harm in getting lunch together, she merely nodded and headed back to her apartment.

Emma was enjoying the rest of her day off when Mary Margaret texted her saying how they should do a girl’s night. Although Emma was hesitant she knew it was harmless, Ruby was busy, so Emma knew she was safe from any real danger.

Like always, Emma waited until the last minute to get ready, it was her thing. She took one look at herself in the mirror for any final touches. For waiting until last minute Emma was actually pleased with herself, her bright red dress hugging her curves perfectly and her hair fell naturally.

Mary Margaret seldom invited Emma to go out, only because this was not Mary Margaret’s scene at all. However, the girls did enjoy the occasional night out, but that usually included wine nights at someone’s house.

The Hole was unusually packed, but when Emma walked inside, she spotted two seats at the bar for them. She rushed over to make sure the seats were not swiped last second. Emma sat there as she waited for Mary Margaret to show up. Mary Margaret was never late, that was Emma’s thing. Emma checked her phone and found a new text from Mary Margaret; the said that she didn’t feel well and wouldn’t be making it out tonight.

Emma slid off her barstool and grabbed her stuff when she heard a familiar voice, “Hello, love, fancy running into you here.” When she looked up, she was met by her favorite pair of blue eyes, Killian.

“Well, hello stranger. Don’t you have a shelter to be taking care of?” Emma was surprised at the teasing tone that came out, but she couldn’t help it. She had a few drinks in her, she felt good, and this was harmless, right?

“Ah right, well sometimes I enjoy the occasional glass of rum or two, and a beautiful maiden's company is always an extra bonus.” He added a wink for good measure and that smirk that made Emma’s stomach flip. “What do you say, love? Fancy another round?”

Without a word, Emma slid back on her stool while her hand grazed upon his leg. She saw his Adam's apple bob at the touch, made Emma happy that she was not the only one affected.

As the night continued and one drink turned into five both and both their inhibitions lowered, the flirty eyes, and the accidental touches lasted a second too long. At one point without a thought, Emma leaned into Killian's embrace, and he held her for a moment. Emma felt his warmth come over her, she felt safe in his embrace and wanted it to last forever. Then she realized what she just thought and instantly sobered up.

Killian felt Emma tense up and decided it was time to go home. The two of them of slid off their stools, and as they walked outside Killian kept his arm around Emma. “Alright, thank you for a fun evening Killian, but I, uh, I think I should head home.”

Killian pulled away to look down at her, “Aye, I agree love. Let me walk you home?”

“Oh, no I’m fine I can walk home, Killian.” He kept his eyes on her, he could tell her walls had crept back up, and she was spooked.

“I know, but it wouldn’t be good form to let you walk home alone love. Please allow me to do the honors?” His made sure to make his tone was light, an attempt to help ease any of Emma’s worries.

“Oh so now you’re a gentleman?” Emma teased right back at him.

“I’m always a gentleman.” Killian walked towards Emma’s apartment, and Emma caught up to him so they could walk arm in arm.

When they arrived at Emma’s apartment, the two of them stood at the door neither one of them knowing what to do next.

“I know, uh, this wasn’t the original plan for the night, but I had a really nice time tonight, Killian.”

Killian met Emma’s eyes and a wide smile took over his face, “Aye, I had a wonderful time tonight too, Emma.” She was caught off guard when he actually said her name.

“Well, I should get inside early morning. Thank you, Killian, for being a gentleman and walking me home, I appreciate it.” Before Killian could say anything, Emma reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran inside before anything else could happen.

Killian stood frozen on her stoop, unable to process what happened. Killian moved his hand to his cheek, he still could feel her soft lips on his stubble. He never thought he’d feel this warmth again, for the first time in five years he felt alive again. He walked home a smile plastered on his face.

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Throughout the week which led to Christmas Emma and Killian spent every moment together - well as much as they could with the shelter and is the sheriff of a small town. When they weren’t together, they would text or call one another.

As nervous as Emma was she knew that she couldn’t ignore her feelings for Killian. He was attractive, but it was more than that for her. She felt this connection to him, she felt safe, and she was tired of being alone. She decided that after Christmas she would finally admit her true feelings for Killian, because who didn’t love a late Christmas gift of sharing your feelings?

Killian, on the other hand, was ready to share his feelings with Emma. After everything that’s happened during his life, especially what happened five years ago. He was prepared to move on, he was ready to do so with Emma. Even though Killian lost his mark and would probably never find his soulmate, he still wanted to find some form of love.

Killian decided to be honest and direct with Emma, so he called her and asked her to come over. Of course, he did not thoroughly think that through and tried to quickly clean his apartment. He was usually a tidy man, but he wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her. He made sure to organize the magazines he pretended to read to make himself look good. Picked up any clothes or jackets there were not hung up.

Then he finally looked at his outfit and decided to freshen up for their impromptu hang-out-not-date-but-he-wished-it-was-a-date date. He went with a dark blue henley that brought out his eyes and some jeans that he knew for a fact made his arse look good. As he made the final touches in his bed hair, Killian heard his bell ring.

He rushed to the door and took a deep breath before he opened the door, and there she stood once again taking his breath away.

“Hi, Killian, thanks for asking me to come over.”

As Emma stood there Killian took her in, still amazed she would give a lad like him a second glance. She was more than just beautiful, she was fierce, funny, and she had this sparkle in her eye when she smiled that Killian found so remarkable. Killian then realized he had been staring for too long and finally moved over so Emma could finally come into his apartment.

“Here love can I get you a drink?” He said as he helped removed her jacket.

“Ah gentleman thing was real, that’s refreshing. And I’ll take water thank you.”

Killian moved to be right behind her, “why’s that, love? Afraid you’d find me even more irresistible after a few libations?”

Emma started to laugh, but when she turned around to face him, she could only feel the tension between them. The two stood there in silence taking the other in until the spell was broken by Killian’s bell.

“Right, that would be the pizza I ordered for us. Although I do love to cook my own meals, I seem to remember a certain lass the other night who said she would kill for a slice of pizza. Now, I wouldn’t want my favorite sheriff to be locked up now, would ruin my plans I have with her.”

“Oh and would plan would that be Mr. Jones?” Emma teased him, perhaps to her it was harmless, but Killian figured it was time to stop hiding.

“Ah, well you see my darling, Emma, I have every intention of knowing you better. Although I would come and visit you if you just so happened to murder for said slice of pizza, I would be irrevocably sad to see you behind bars.”

Killian could tell Emma was taken back by his confession, joking or not, she could read between the lines of what Killian said. Right, when Killian thought he’d gone too far, Emma reached out to him and said, “I would be sad too if I couldn’t see my favorite shelter owner either.” She then walked by him, which then left him frozen. Right when Killian thought he finally had her, she was already two steps ahead of him. One of the things he loved about her.

Oh shit.

Well, Killian was not actually that surprised by that admission, but figured it was best not to tell Emma quite yet about his feelings.

The two settled in and ate their pizza, the conversation flowed naturally. Even if there were silent pauses, it was never uncomfortable, in fact, both relished in the ability to be with another person and feel so at ease.

As the night continued on both unconsciously moved towards the other so that there was only a merely inch between the two of them. Emma eventually closed the space between them so that she was leaning into him, Killian held her and without thinking opened his mouth.

“How can someone as phenomenal as you not have found their soulmate by now?” That’s when he felt her tense in his arms once more. “Emma, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked that I’m sorry I-”

“I lost my mark...that’s why, uh, I haven’t found my soulmate.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to pry like this, Swan.” Killian couldn’t imagine knowing you had someone and then it just disappearing.

“You can ask Killian, I can tell you want to.” Emma broke him out of his train of thought.

“Do you know what happened to them?” He held her a bit tighter scared himself of what her answer could be.

“No, I never knew them. I just had it one day, and then I looked down, and it was gone. I never met anyone with my mark, and honestly, it’s probably for the best. After everything else, I just don’t think I could’ve survived meeting the one person who’s supposed to be there for me and then losing them like that. You know?”

Emma stayed still as she laid in Killian’s arms. Killian had to pull away for just a moment to make sure the angel in his arms was real. When she finally looked up at him, she could see the tears welled up. He held her tighter, he tried to reassure her that he isn’t going anywhere.

“Emma, I promise I would never hurt you.”

“You say that Killian, but you have to understand I have a lifetime of proof that people do leave. My parents left me on the side of a road, they didn’t even bother taking me to a hospital. I bounced around in the system a lot. Then I met Neal and he...he fucked me up.”

Killian didn’t interrupt and stop her from opening up to him. He merely nodded for her to continue if she wished.

“I was 16 and decided that it was time for me to be on my own, I was going to age out anyways. Figured just to get it over with, you know? Then, I met Neal, and I thought I found my home. He was older, and I knew he was trouble, but he was fun.

Few months went by, we did what we had to do to survive, I’m not proud of it. But then, we decided to go on the straight and narrow, to find our forever home. We had everything ready to go, but then Neal’s face was plastered all over town. He had robbed this watch shop a few months before we met, and now the cops were after him. He still had the watches in some locker, too. Neal threatened to cancel the trip and leave me, and it almost broke me. I thought I found my person, so stupid naive me offered to get the watches for him. Got them, no problem, thought I was in the clear. Until the cops, he called on me caught me. I was still a minor, so I did a few months in juvie and decided to be a cop to help others on the streets.”

Emma held back her tears during her story, but the moment she looked up at Killian the floodgates opened. This was the first time she had told the story in full, it took her nearly three years to tell Mary Margaret the truth.

Killian rubbed her back, he tried to let Emma catch her breath on her own time. Finally after a moment of silence that overtook the two of them. As Emma leaned back into Killian.

“Thank you for sharing, Emma. Truly thank you for letting me see a bit more of the beautiful lass that’s completely bewitched me. But I did already knew that one part love, we orphans all have the same look.” Emma looked at him confused for a moment, “I too am an orphan, I lost my family when I was young. My mum died of cancer, I barely knew her. My father, if you could call him that, left after things got too hard. He left my brother, Liam, in charge of me. A wee lad himself, only 15, in charge of his own brother? Liam tried his best, and he was my best mate.

When I turned 17 he left for the Royal Navy, I joined him a year later. Finally, we were supposed to go on this mission together, but I...I was sleeping off a bender, and I missed the car to the ship. When I finally realized I was late, our commanding officer was already on the other side of my door. Their ship barely made it to open waters before an engine fire blew up the damn thing.

I drowned myself in liquor, like you I am not proud of some of the things I did in my past, but I did them, can’t take them back. But I’m here, now and -” Killian got emotional as he thought of everything he’d been through during his life.

“Oh Killian, I am so sorry. I didn’t -”

“Shh shh, it’s okay, love. I didn’t tell you for you to feel sorry, I told you, so you know that you’re not alone.” As he stared at her, Emma felt that spark again and knew there was something special between the two of them. But in an attempt to lighten the mood after everything Emma decided to change the subject.

“Killian, do you mind me asking why did you open the shelter?”

Killian pulled Emma back, so she was able to rest her head against his chest once more.

“Well, I never thought about opening a shelter until I met Milah. She was the most wonderful woman I knew, she had this spirit about her that just encaptured you. I fell in love with her, we weren’t soulmates, but we didn’t care. She had a rough childhood, like me, and she said if she ever had the money she would open a shelter to help others.

One night in December a few years ago we were out, we finally had the money for a shelter. We were actually here in Storybrooke celebrating with some friends. Anyways, we decided to call it an early night and get ready for the hard part of running the shelter now.

I was the DD for the night, and we were driving home like we’d done a million times and then this truck...it came out of nowhere. Milah died on impact, I, however, gained this souvenir,” he raised his prosthetic hand, “the driver had a stroke so I couldn’t even hate the man. I don’t remember much about the accident, but I do remember this angel.”

Emma let out a gasp, she finally knew why Killian looked so familiar. He looked so different now, he looked alive. Killian seemed to have missed Emma’s revelation, he continued to share how this angel kept him alive long enough for help to arrive.

“Everyone thought I was barking mad, said it was a police officer that saved me. Regardless, she’s my angel, my savior.” Killian looked away from his hand to see Emma who looked off into the distance as she tried to explain how she was the one that saved him.

“Swan? Emma, are you alright?” Emma moved away from Killian, which only added to his concern.

Emma refused to make eye contact when she finally spoke she slowly looked up at him. “Was the accident on December 23, 2013, at Main Street?”

“Aye, it was. How did you - oh Emma, you’re my savior aren’t you?” Emma only nodded in response. “Emma Swan, I have been searching for you for nearly five years now to thank you. Thank you for saving my life, my sweet Emma.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And of course it’s no one other than the woman who has starred my dreams for nearly the last month.”

With that admission, Emma’s head snapped to meet his eyes. Both of them holding back tears of their own. However, as much as Killian knew Emma felt this too, but of them had shared a lot tonight. Both of them had experienced a massive emotional rollercoaster and Killian could not in good conscience take advantage of Emma while they were in this state.

“Killian, listen I-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, Emma. You don’t have to say anything back to me, love. I just want you to know that no matter what I am not going anywhere, not without you.”

With that, Emma slowly leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Be patient,” she merely said.

Killian gave her a boyish smile in return and said, “Aye love, I have all the time in the world.”

Emma decided it was time for her to drive home, as much as she didn’t want to leave Killian. He walked her town to her bug where he gave her one last goodbye kiss.

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December 24, 2018

As the weekend came to a close Emma and Killian had barely spoken, both so busy with work. Emma missed him, more than she thought possible. She was at the Charming’s Christmas party wondering what Killian was up to, where he was and who he was with.

A new spark ignited in her, jealousy. Emma Swan was not a jealous person, but apparently, when it came to Killian Jones, she had become a bit jealous of anyone else who had the pleasure of being in his company. She’d already debated texting him inviting him over, but she didn’t want to bother him. It’s not that Emma wanted to play games, but she didn’t want to push any chances she had.

Emma was in the kitchen when Mary Margaret and David came in, with cups in hand - well cup in David’s hand. Then Emma figured it out.

“Holy shit! M’s are you…?”

Before Mary Margaret even confirmed it, she ran into Emma’s arms. The three of them enjoyed their moment in the midst of the party. “This is why I bailed the other night, I’m sorry! I don’t know why they call it morning sickness when you get sick at all hours of the night. Regardless, you are going to be Aunt Emma in a few short months. How’s that sound?”

Emma closed the space between them once more, “Sounds perfect. Congratulations to the Charming family!”

“Oi, who are in the bloody hell are the Charming’s?”

Emma looked up and found Killian, decked out in the ugliest Christmas sweater she had ever seen. He seemed to be just as surprised to see Emma there with the Nolan’s.

“Swan? What are you doing here?” He made his way over to the trio, and they broke apart from their hug.

“I was just about to ask the same of you, Jones. Crashing parties now?”

“Uh, so Emma seems as though you don’t need any introductions since you and Killian already seem to know each other. Which don’t think I won’t question you about later. But Killian is our friend we told you about that just moved back here.”

“Oh, the one I was supposed to welcome?”

“One in the same missy.” Emma could feel her blush as it crept up her neck to her face. “Right, well David and I are going to say hi to a few other people. You two play nice or whatever.” David reluctantly went, wanting to investigate the relationship Emma and Killian already have.

The two are stuck like glue throughout the rest of the night. Throughout the night both slowly become more comfortable with little displays of affection with touches that last longer than they should for just friends. Both enjoy the night in each other’s company, both let down the walls that have held them back in the past.

At one point Emma excuses herself to use the restroom; however, both seem to miss the comfort of sitting next to one another immediately, so Killian walked over to the kitchen while he waits for her to return.

That’s when they question him. He was surprised they waited this long.

“Killian, why the hell didn’t you tell us that you knew Emma?”

“Listen, she came into the shelter one night with Grace, and we just started talking. It’s nothing I swear, love.”

Neither of them seemed to believe his line, he wouldn’t of if he were them. “Bullshit, Killian I’ve never seen you like this.”

Killian scratched behind his ear, the three of them begin to chat about how their friendship and their recent developments. What the trio failed to realize was Emma had returned from the bathroom and decided to listen in on the conversation. She didn’t mean to, but she didn’t want to interrupt and then she just couldn’t stop.

“Killian, I am so happy for the two of you. Seriously, both of you have this glow about you tonight, it’s incredible. Have you guys talked about your marks at all?”

Emma was surprised Mary Margaret brought this up, she knew Emma lost her mark all those years ago.

“No, I lost my mark because of the accident. When they cut off my hand my hand, they also cut off my mark in the process. I thought, I thought maybe the mark would return after time. I thought...with all this time I’d been spending with Emma it would appear again. I’ve never felt like this before, it’s incredible.”

Emma felt her smile creep back on her face. She felt it too, whatever it was, it was incredible to hear Killian say he felt the same way.

“Oh Killian, you know marks don’t come back. Once they’re gone, they’re gone for good. I’m so sorry you lost yours. What even was your mark?”

He looked down at his left wrist, where his mark used to be. “It looked a wee bit like a compass. I know some people thought it was a blob, but I always thought it was a compass leading me to my soulmate.”

Emma swore for a moment time stood still and she was hot. Too hot. She had to get out of the apartment right away. She came into the kitchen with the rest of them, she refused to make eye contact with Killian.

“Hey, sorry but I’m not feeling well I’m gonna go home. Thank you for an amazing party.” Emma tried to make her escape, but Killian was concerned about her.

“Love, let me drive you-”

“No! I mean, no thank you, I just want to get home. Good night, Killian.” She stormed out the apartment and left behind a very confused Killian.

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The week between Christmas and New Years was always this awkward time, but now it was indeed the worst. Emma spent the last few days avoiding Killian. She couldn’t believe that Killian was her soulmate. She could believe it, but she didn’t want to.

Emma always thought she lost her soulmate, that they left before they even knew her. Turned out her soulmate was the man she had slowly fallen in love with. Which scared the hell out of her.

She felt terrible, but she couldn’t give him this power. Emma just couldn’t take that final leap, and she hated herself for it. She also hated ignoring his messages and calls, but Emma knew if she heard his voice she would give in. Then she debated if giving in was such a horrible option, which for some reason the little voice in the back of her head kept saying yes.

Emma still took people to Neverland when she found them, she just would drive them to the shelter. She never dared to take a step in there. She couldn’t face him, Emma couldn’t face the hurt she brought to him either. Emma could tell in his messages that she wasn’t the only one suffering from her childish behavior.

Emma decided to take the New Year’s Eve shift, not much in the partying mood. The only people she’d want to spend the night with were surely spending their time with the one person Emma could not be around at the moment.

These nights were usually easy enough, Storybrooke didn’t have much of a nightlife. While Emma drove around, she spotted someone who seemed to have fallen in an alley.

She walked over to the person, they were mumbling to themselves. Emma figured it was someone who was inebriated and needed to sleep it off. As she approached them, Emma announced her presence, which apparently was the wrong thing to do.

They quickly became aggravated with Emma’s help and tried to resist. Emma didn’t recognize the boy, he was taller than her with curly sandy blonde hair and a hell of a lot stronger than he looked. Emma was able to finally pin him down and reached for her cuffs. She was thankful she decided to bring them out with her, she had almost left them in the car.

That’s when the guy flipped her over. Emma’s head was the first thing to hit the pavement, knocking her out almost instantly.

The only thing Emma saw was the kid fleeing instantly. Right before the darkness took her, she heard someone. A voice, she recognized it immediately.

“Swan! SWAN! Stay with me, Emma!”

That’s when Emma passed out.

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Emma woke up with a pounding headache. When she finally opened her eyes, she realized she was in a hospital. Then she saw Killian sitting there in the chair pulled right up to her bed. She can’t believe what an ass she’d been the last few days, as she looked at him she knew there was no one else she wanted by her side.

“Killian,” she croaked out, “Killian, hey sleepy wake up now.” Killian slowly came to, and for a moment it seemed as though he also did not recognize his surroundings.

“Emma, love oh god. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, my head hurts, but I’m fine. Far better than what I deserve after what I put you through.”

Killian moved from out his chair so that he was now sitting on the bed with Emma, he took her hand as well. “You stubborn woman, ha, I am so happy you’re alright love. But why? Why did you run, Emma? I thought things were going well.”

Emma then realized he must’ve not come to the same conclusion that she had, she wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse. “It’s just, I may have overheard the conversation you had with the Charmings, and I ran because-”

“Emma, did I say something too far? I keep replaying that night over and over again, and I can’t think of anything. Please tell me, love?”

“Killian, you mentioned something about your mark to them, and I, phew god this is harder than I thought. You know I lost my mark? I lost my mark after December 23, 2013, I lost my blob of a mark that if you tilted your head looked like a compass. I ran because we’re…”

“We’re soulmates,” he said it with every ounce of hope he had left in him. Then a realization hit him which caused his features to fall. “You didn’t want me to be your soulmate though.”

“OH! God yes Killian, I wanted it to be you so badly. But I ran, that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. It’s the one thing I’m good at. And then I realized too late that I didn’t want to run, not from you and not anymore. But I was a fool, and I hurt you, and I couldn’t face you after that. I couldn’t...I couldn’t see the pain I caused you.” Emma began to cry which caused Killian to get in the bed and he held Emma until she calmed down.

“Emma Swan, look at me love, I love you. I loved you before I knew were soulmates, and mark or no stupid mark changes how I feel about you.”

“You love me?” Emma’s voice broke as she heard his confession, unable to believe he loved her back.

“Aye,” he nodded, and with that Emma closed the distance between them. The kiss was passionate and full of love; however, it did not last long because Emma’s heartbeat picked up too much which caused a concerned nurse to come sprinting in. The nurse left after giving them a harsh pair of judgy eyes.

The two of them were back in their own world until they heard the nurses counting down to the new year.

“This feels all like a fairytale, Killian.”

“Aye, love it does. So does that mean you finally have it? Your own happy ending?

Five...four...three…two...one

“No, it’s a happy beginning.”

Next year, the two rang in the new year with a wedding of their own, with new matching compass tattoos on their right wrists.

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sunken-standard · 5 years

Note

16 Sherlolly for the ask meme thing :)

(From this ask meme, I’m assuming, since it’s the last I posted) Thanks, anon :D

16: do either of them have a specialitem (an article of clothing, a necklace, a book) that they use whenthey miss the other? if so, what is it? what do they do with it(read, wear, look at, smell)?

Short answer: nah. I don’t really seeeither of them as being that kind of sentimental at all. They maysee something and be reminded of the other, but that “carrying atoken” trope just doesn’t suit either of them, IMO.

That being said, I started a wanklockfic a long time ago but never made it to the really good bits; post-TRF,my version of Molly’s Christmas gift. Slightly sacrilegious, probably.

Unfinished fic behind the cut; I knowI’ve posted at least one sentence of this before, but I don’t think Iposted more than that. If I have, apologies. It’s hard to keeptrack sometimes.

He was not a religious man. Molly wasnot a religious woman. When he opened her Christmas gift two daysafter she’d given it to him (finally working up to it through theguilt, which was hardly a respite from the weight of his sadness), hewas momentarily confused.

It was a rosary.

Antique, obviously; nothing ornate. Tarnished silver cross and chain, a silver medallion bearing ashrouded skull in three-quarters profile for the centerpiece; carvedivory roses for the Our Fathers and deep red glass beads for the HailMarys. Nice to look at, he supposed, though it was a bit Goth, evenfor his tastes.

While he was wondering exactly whyshe’d pick such an odd thing, he noticed a mark on one of the ivorybeads. Habit had him reaching for the magnifying glass, pulling thelamp closer. There was something odd about it, odd about the grainof the ivory.

Oh.

It was human ivory. A molar. He examined the rest; all teeth.

Molly Hooper always found ways to beinteresting when he was least expecting it.

The rosary lived in the back of hisdresser drawer; he took it out sometimes when he needed to remindhimself that things weren’t always what they appeared at firstglance. He wondered what kind of person it had belonged to, whoseteeth they were. Probably the memento mori of a Victorian widow orsomesuch; he found the notion strangely romantic. He wondered ifMolly had had similar thoughts when she bought it. He found herather liked that idea, even if he didn’t want to admit it tohimself.

He had nothing of himself when he leftLondon; no coat, no wallet, no phone. He was a ghost, after all. You can’t take it with you, as they say.

He was waiting for a contact a weekinto his new existence in the shadows; Florence was hot and the sunwas bright. He milled around a street vendor’s table near theCathedral, a hapless tourist. The sun caught a deep red bead on acheap nickel-and-glass rosary; he bought it without letting himselfexamine why.

It ended up being useful; it gave himsomething to do with his hands while he kept his head bowed in a pewas he waited again the next day for the contact to bring him theflash drive she promised.

He tried not to let his mind drift toMolly like it threatened to do at the worst possible times in thepast week. He’d been a fool and acted on impulse and fear of his ownmortality, kissing her roughly and asking her to remember him, thereal him; asking her to never reveal his secret, no matterwhat happened—if he died on the roof or if he landed wrong or if henever made it back to London. Let them all forget, I only need youto remember.

It was quite possibly the cruelestthing he’d ever done.

He kept the rosary in his pocket. Hewasn’t a person who believed in talismans or good luck charms or anysuch nonsense, but he found the simple act of going over the beadsone-by-one to be calming. Strings of beads were used the world overfor meditation of one kind or another, it was hardly revolutionary.

Some days he was too busy to thinkabout her. Those were the good days, when he was actively gettingcloser to his end goal; closer to dismantling the entire network.

On the slow days and the bad days, shewas constantly in his thoughts. She’d taken up residence in his MindPalace long ago, he couldn’t even pinpoint when. She was mostly justthere, quiet and close, giving him the right things he needed when heput his hand out for something. He was afraid to interact with hertoo much, afraid he might start building her into something shewasn’t. He’d already done that with one Woman, much to his greatdisgust with himself.

The weeks turned into months. In earlyDecember, he found himself in Prague. He liked to meet hisinformants in churches; it had a certain old-fashioned Cold Warcharm. In St. Vitus Cathedral, he read a pamphlet about the life ofJan Nepomucký(or, Anglicized, John of Nepomuk); the patron saint of secrets. Hewasn’t really thinking when, two days later, he found himself in ashop tucked away on a side street that sold religious paraphanelia;he bought a pair of saint’s medals.

Heattached one to the rosary in place of the cross (still in his pocketwherever he went); the other he folded up into a square of shiny redpaper and stuffed into an envelope. He sent it before good senseprevailed; he only wanted her to think of him. She was clever, shewould understand it. He was leaving Prague the next day, anyway; aspirit slipping back into the underworld.

It wasChristmas Eve and he’d never felt so alone in his life. He’d alwaysbeen able to plaster on a smile and make a friend for long enough tofeel like part of the human race when he needed to, no matter howhigh or low or disconnected he was at the time; that night wasdifferent. He lay on his cold sleeping mat and stared at thechipping plaster of the walls of his cell; he wasn’t pretending to bea monk, but he was living like one anyway.

Kama-tanha,he thought, fingering the rosary as he pictured Molly in the dressfrom last year.

Whathe wouldn’t give to go back and live that night over. No making anarse out of himself, no faked deaths or any of it.

Hewould open his damn present in the quietest corner of the flat, onthe sofa, away from everyone else; Molly would point out the tinyspot of decalcification on the rose that had first caught his eye andhe would give in to the impulse to kiss her, finally taste thelipstick she’d put on just for him.

He made everyone else vanish; he resteda hand on her hip, the satin of the dress clinging like a secondskin.

If only he hadn’t been such a coward. If only he’d said yes, I would like coffee with you sometimeinstead of being wary of an attractive, intelligent woman showing aninterest in him. How different would it have been?

If he’d become involved with her then,she would be the primary target now. Or he really would be dead,because he might have had to go that far to save her, even with hisbrother’s help.

The thought made him feel cold down tohis bones, dissipated the first stirrings of arousal curling throughhis gut.

He pressed the medal to his lips, themetal still warm from being next to his body, in his hands; she washis patron saint. When he got back, if he got back, he would tellher. Show her. Until then, she would have his daily devotions; HailMolly, full of awkward grace.

#anon #from an ask meme #sunken's secret stash #sherlolly

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twodaysintojune · 5 years

Text

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

Supernatural, Debriel, Warnings-None

Find me at AO3

If Dean had an equivalent of Sam’s Halloween hate, more often than not that hated event was Christmas.

And to be fair, growing up listening to joyous songs of peace on earth right after cleaning your father's wounds from a salt and burn, watching movies of people sharing gifts under a massive Christmas tree in a dingy motel room whose only pristine asset was the sink he had just cleaned himself and then growing up trying to make it up for Sam and give him some sort of celebratory feeling…

Yeah, that could definitely make Christmas a detested event for anyone.

Which is why he thought it was kind of stupid to be out here on December 23rd in the mild Kansas cold, waiting for Sam and Jack to finally pick up a tree. Not that he complained about it, with time he had learnt to tone his feelings down and go along everything his people said. He was watching them, hands in his pockets, listening to the jarring Alvin and the Chipmunks styled carols booming out of a speaker that he was sure he would utterly destroy if he had the chance to get anywhere near it when he felt more than saw Gabriel approach him.

“You look like you're having as much fun as a man picking up his last meal.”

Dean snorted, count on Gabriel to be able to tell his mood swings. He had become even better than Sam on it and that was saying something.

“Naw, I was just thinking how on earth I'm gonna tie that monster to Baby without giving her a scratch.”

Cas had joined the other two with an assistant of the lot to help them wrap the tree up. After some struggling by all of them, Jack approached Dean beaming.

“All set?”

“Yeah”

“Well then, let's go kid.”

The trip to the bunker had been good, changing the background music to the good ol’ Zep definitely did wonders to his mood so when he helped everyone get the tree and all the other decorations they had bought into the bunker’s library, Dean was smiling once more. Still, he managed to leave everyone there to hide in the kitchen and prepare some mulled wine for the first time ever.

Doing a new recipe helped him focus his attention on anything else than more bitter than sweet memories but first he had to open the bottles and pour the wine into a pot. After finishing the first task, he saw a sachet of spices he had been about to prepare appear out of nowhere on his hand.

“Thanks Gabe.”

He dropped the sachet and proceeded to add less cups of sugar than what the recipe claimed, knowing that it was easier to add on than to take away. Gabriel, who was suddenly by his side, moved to turn on the oven while Dean cleaned the few instruments he had used and then went to the counter to finish preparing the turkey that was already lying on a cooking pan. Curious, Dean glanced over him and took a look at the humongous bird he definitely didn’t recall buying.

“Where did you even get that from?”

“I may not have much grace but I can spare a bit for the good stuff.”

Dean just snickered while he moved to take the eggs and milk out of the fridge and add another big pot on the stove for the eggnog, nudging Gabriel to leave some space on the counter for him. It was odd, this homely feeling he was getting dancing around the kitchen with Gabriel. It was almost like this was the way things were always meant to be. It took Dean a while to notice Gabriel was humming ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ but when it finally hit him he couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“Were you ever even jealous of your half brother?”

Gabriel turned to look at Dean a bit startled and stopped his turkey filling task for a moment.

“Not really... I was kind of curious and a bit upset you know, since dad had forbidden us to bang with them and then he shows up and tells me I gotta give this girl Mary the news ‘cause he was being too much of a coward to show up himself after she told him she was not gonna give up on Joseph...” Gabriel paused for a long enough time fiddling with the spoon in his hands “...that should have been a dead giveaway about what he would do after Lucifer’s fall”

Dean moved to place his hand on the archangel’s shoulder.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault that he left.”

If he didn’t know better, Dean could have sworn he had seen Gabriel’s eyes glisten for a second.

“Anyway, all that stopped after JJ was born, he really was a cute baby… Too bad he had to grow up.”

Dean laughed heartily.

“Yeah, I get you on that. Sammy was the cutest when he was a kid. If you think his puppy eyes can kill you now you should have seen him then.”

The rest of the day went by with the bunker filling itself with the delicious scent of baked goods that Gabriel naturally did for Dean’s delight and the mulled wine. Despite not feeling like it, Dean had helped hang out the leftover garlands and was preparing some of the open bedrooms for Jody and the girls, who were invited for the celebration by Sam when he stepped into the library with some dusty rags at the same time as Gabriel, who was bringing snacks for everyone.

“Stop!”

They halted when Jack placed his hand in front against them.

“You’re under the mistletoe! You have to kiss!”

Both men looked upwards to find that, indeed, there was a small bundle of mistletoe hanging from a decorated red ribbon right over them. Still confused for the abrupt interruption of their activities, they turned to each other before going back to Jack.

“Uhm, I don’t think this is the way that works kiddo.”

“No, you have to do it! Sam and Castiel already have.”

Dean and Gabriel groaned while glancing their respective brothers, who were now sheepishly hiding behind some of the tree’s branches. Dean could have sworn Sam’s ears were three shades redder than what they should’ve been.

“Seriously? You had to go there now? On Christmas of all times!?”

“We had to! It was the mistletoe!”

Both Gabriel and Dean looked at them in judgemental disbelief for just a second. Then Gabriel sighed and placed the tray with sandwiches and beer on the table before turning towards Dean.

“Don’t worry Dean-o, this ain’t gonna hurt a bit.”

Dean was about to retort when Gabriel’s hands found his neck and pulled his face closer. He felt Gabriel’s lips closing on his with a softness he never would have expected of the guy. Dean knew little about love but he was certain that there had been something more caring in that brief connection than what the occasion would have required.

Gabriel parted almost as fast as he had approached him.

“There, happy now?”

Jack just beamed at his uncle, like he had done tons of awesome things to make the world a better place. Swiftly, both men made way to keep on with their own tasks. When the night arrived and Sam had disappeared with Cas in his bedroom, Dean gave a last round on the library, where he found Jack sitting in front of the tree on the carpet and a bunch of floor pillows he suspected Gabriel had magicked looking in awe at how the lights turned on and off in random patterns.

“You gonna stay here all night?”

Jack turned to Dean with eyes shining in glee. Dean just sighed and went to grab one of the comfy lap blankets, throwing it on Jack’s shoulders.

“If you go back to your room remember to turn off the lights.”

“I will.” The kid stared a second at the man “Dean...? I love you.”

Dean smiled gently and made way to fuss Jack’s hair.

“Love ya too kid. Good night.”

“Good night.”

On his way to his bedroom he was joined by Gabriel.

“Sooo… I got this xxx-mas video right here, you wanna watch it at my room?”

Dean grabbed the case of the video, a latina, an asian and a redhead posing with the mandatory red sheer babydolls trimmed in white faux fur and santa hats. It was funny how even after watching the same shit again and again he always came back to them.

“Sure, why the heck not?”

They played the video after throwing themselves on Gabriel’s bed, filled with multiple silk cushions. Dean had to give it to Kali for teaching her man how to decorate in opulence. He accepted gratefully the whisky he was handled and went to focus on the video. There were no guys in the video, it was just the girls, opening presents that held dildos and vibrators inside and playing with each other. After a while, Dean just sighed frustrated.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean chuckled “I was kinda hoping for an idiot dressed as Santa I guess.”

Gabriel looked at Dean for the longest time and paused the video.

“Not that, Dean, something’s wrong with you today, all these days since Sam pitched in on doing Christmas.”

Dean turned to look at the archangel feeling clearly betrayed for being called out by the only person he would have expected never to be confronted about anything considering how well he was known for running away from facing stuff. And the worst was that he was unable to give a single pretext to get away from the interrogation. He tried, he knew he had tried his best to get around the issue but Gabriel had pressed on and on until Dean spilled it all out. All about the winter days spent in a room without heating, holding Sam closely wrapped in a blanket, the gift giving watched from outside a living room, all the Holidays his father had been out doing only god knows which hunt. He didn’t know when he had started crying in the middle of his rant. Why was he even talking? Why was he allowing anyone besides himself listen to all of this? It’s not like Gabriel would actually care. Heck, it’s not like he still cared about it so why on earth was he tearing this way?

“I’m sorry, Gabe, you don’t even need to listen to this.” Dean grunted softly in the middle of his frustration, looking down onto his already empty glass. Gabriel went to level his sight up by pulling Dean’s chin upwards softly.

“Maybe I don’t need to but I want to.”

Dean looked at him shocked for a second. Who on earth would actually want to listen to him rant about his past? Gabriel moved closer to Dean, overcoming the mountains and valleys of coloured fabric and laying by his side.

“You don’t believe me.” Before Dean could even admit or deny the fact, Gabriel magicked out a small giftwrapped box, the size of a kid’s toy and gave it to Dean. Dean looked the object curiously but didn’t make a move to open it.

“Shouldn’t you have waited until tomorrow?”

“I didn’t get to be your Secret Santa.”

Dean eyed his friend suspiciously but relented and began to tear down the paper. He would never admit it but he actually gasped when he finally found out the small Chevy ‘67 Impala model in front of him. It was just like his Baby, all the way up to its original license plate. It was a silly gift, really, nothing too awesome to think about, and yet he clearly remembered he had been wanting this particular model ever since he had seen it at a mall, ages ago. His father obviously not buying it because there was no reason for Dean to have it knowing they already were riding a real one. Deep down, Dean knew it had never been about the car.

It had been about his father doing something only for him.

“I know I shouldn’t be peering on your thoughts but you’ve been sending away this image strongly all these past days, I thought it was something you really wanted.”

And now, after so many years there was someone paying attention to him, maybe cheating a little bit but hey, nothing was perfect in this world. Dean could feel more tears welling up, he had to talk before his voice was stolen.

“Thanks Gabe”

The archangel smiled at Dean warmly. There was a myriad of things going through his amber eyes, lighting them like he was able to hold galaxies inside.

“Don’t sweat it kiddo”

Dean snickered softly “I gotta admit I always thought of you as a conceited brat”

Gabriel just raised his eyebrows and smiled as well. “Well, I cannot deny that I have been quite the hedonist my entire life”

“Then what happened?”

“You.”

Dean turned towards the archangel in shock, clearly he must have listened wrong but Gabriel was just there looking at him in earnest. After what Dean thought of as an eternity in silence, Gabriel broke it one more time.

“I know you only see me as a friend. That’s alright. I’m good with the way things are… but I’m not glad if you’re not glad, so if something goes around your head; I’ll be there to listen. Okay?”

“...Okay”

Jody and the girls arrived the following day around five, making everything more chaotic and fun. They had dinner after seven and then watched a silly Christmas movie. Dean found it funny that none of them even imagined for a second that Gabriel was indeed the Gabriel, archangel, messenger of God. They all assumed he was a fellow hunter and Gabriel, well, he didn’t really mind clearing that particular misunderstanding.

Well past midnight they did the Secret Santa swap. Dean had somehow found a plush for Castiel online that according to him was called ‘Sammy Moose’ so it was perfect for him. Sam bickered about it but Cas didn’t put the plush down for any reason other than hold the real Sam close. Gabriel had received from Claire three pairs of silly Christmas socks with googly eyed elves that he immediately wore and some chocolates and Dean received in awe a guitar from Jody who only said she had traded from a colleague that never stuck with any hobby. By the end of it all, they were all singing Christmas carols and finishing all the dessert they could.

Maybe he was being hopeful, or maybe he had had a bit too much spiked eggnog but Dean finally felt like this was a holiday he could actually enjoy.

#Debriel #ALL THE DEBRIEL #Debriel for life #dean winchester #Gabriel #gabriel supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #fanfiction #Jack Kline #Sam Winchester #Castiel #Jodi Mills #Claire Novak #Alex Jones #merry xmas #happy holidays #one shot

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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A Padre Pio Inspirational Story __________

“Let us always keep before our eyes the fact that here on earth we are on a battlefield and that in paradise we shall receive the crown of victory; that this is a testing-ground and the prize will be awarded up above; that we are now in a land of exile while our true homeland is Heaven to which we must continually aspire.” – St. Pio of Pietrelcina __________

Memories of Padre Pio

Joe Peluso was an American soldier who was stationed in Italy during World War II. One day he received a letter from his mother and she told him that there was a holy priest named Padre Pio living in Italy. She did not know what part of Italy he lived in but she wanted Joe to find out and to visit him. Joe asked the military chaplain on the base if he knew anything about Padre Pio. The military chaplain started laughing and pointed to the mountain that was directly in front of them. “Padre Pio lives right on that mountain,” he said to Joe. Curiosity got the better of him and Joe decided to make the short trip to see him. It was October 6, 1944.

Padre Pio loved the visits of the American soldiers and always greeted them cordially. His counsel to the soldiers was unique. He used simple and childlike words when talking to them and giving them advice. Sometimes he would pat them on the head in a paternal way and simply say, “Be a good boy.”

Over the next ten months, Joe was able to visit Padre Pio many times and they became very close. Often he was invited to eat with the Capuchins at the monastery. While everyone else enjoyed their food, Joe noticed that Padre Pio simply pushed his food around on the plate. His daily intake of food would only fill the cup of his hand. He once said, “I need very little of this world’s goods. I need just a little bit of food, a little sleep and few possessions.”

It was Padre Pio’s habit to give each visitor a religious medal when they came to the monastery. Because of the war, religious medals and rosaries became scarce and almost impossible to acquire. Padre Pio felt very bad that his supply of medals was exhausted and he had none to give his visitors. Mary Pyle and Joe talked about it and Joe wanted to help. He decided to take the 220-mile trip from his military base to Rome to try to obtain the medals. Padre Pio and Padre Pio’s brother Michael both gave him letters to deliver to their sister, Sister Pia. She was a nun of the Order of St. Bridget and lived in the Brigittine Convent in Rome.

When he arrived in Rome, something prompted him to follow a road leading up a hill. As he drove up the hill, he saw a large sign, Cloistered Motherhouse of the Benedictine Nuns. Joe remembered that the St. Benedict medals were a favorite of Padre Pio. Joe knocked on the door and the nuns were extremely happy to give him a large supply of medals for Padre Pio.

Once Padre Pio asked Joe to select a name for his guardian angel. “Pick a name for your guardian angel and call him by that name always,” Padre Pio said to Joe. “When you send him to me, he will come instantly.”

One day Joe asked Padre Pio if he would accept him as his spiritual child. Padre Pio readily agreed. Then he asked him if he would accept his wife as his spiritual child and he agreed as well. Realizing the wonderful opportunity, he then asked Padre Pio if he would accept his daughter. Joe’s aunts and uncles then came into his mind. Somehow, the way the conversation was going struck both of them as funny. Joe and Padre Pio began to laugh. They laughed so hard that tears were rolling down their faces.

Suddenly Padre Pio became very serious and said to Joe, “Joe, when the war is over and you return to the United States, tell the American people, that for those who would like me to be their spiritual father, my answer is yes. I accept all Americans as my spiritual children. I only have two requirements — that they lead very good Catholic lives and that they regularly receive the sacraments. And please, tell them never to embarrass me in front of Jesus and Mary. You must tell them, Joe.”

Joe felt that it was an impossible request. He lived in a very small town in Pennsylvania. He was not an important person. He did not know many people. How could he tell all of America what Padre Pio had asked him to? Nevertheless, when he returned to the U.S. he tried to do what was asked of him. He made a slide show presentation of Padre Pio’s life and over the years he showed it to thousands of people. Joe died in 1996, after having spent 50 years sharing the message of Padre Pio with more people than he could have ever imagined.

“Remember, I accompany you always and everywhere.” – St. Pio of Pietrelcina ______________________________

A Letter from Padre Pio to Padre Benedetto

Padre Pio wrote the following letter to his spiritual director, Padre Benedetto Nardella, concerning a vision he had regarding World War I. This divine visitation seemed to signal the approach of peace.

“In one of the visits I had from Jesus recently, I asked Him more insistently to have pity on the unfortunate nations so sorely tried by the misfortune of war and to let His justice give place at last to His mercy. Strange to say, He made no reply except a sign with His hand which meant, ‘Slowly, slowly’ . . . What on earth does this mean, dear Father? I myself cannot tell you. However, I can tell you this, that whenever I had spoken to the Lord previously about the war, He gave me no sign that I can recall, but always kept complete silence . . . Does it mean that He himself means to intervene to calm this worldwide upheaval? May He be pleased to do so without delay.” – Letters I, December 19, 1917 ______________________________

Maria Pompilio who was one of Padre Pio’s spiritual daughters, left this testimony.

“At the end of Padre Pio’s Mass one morning toward the end of 1919, a number of people gathered around Padre Pio. By my side was a man who looked fixedly at Padre Pio. He said breathlessly, “Oh God, it is him, truly him. I am not mistaken.” The man began crying and fell to his knees. He said, “Padre Pio, thank you for saving me from death! Thank you!” Padre Pio put his hands on the man’s head and said, “You must not thank me, my son. Thank our Lord and the Virgin of Graces.” They spoke together in an undertone for a few minutes. Padre Pio then went to the choir to pray.

Several men who were nearby questioned the man about the words that Padre Pio had spoken to him. I was also present and the man told us the following story: “I was a Captain in the infantry, and one day on the battlefield, during a terrible hour of fighting, a little distance away from me, I saw a delicate, pale friar with beautiful, expressive eyes. He was not dressed as a chaplain but as a simple friar and he hurriedly and gently called to me saying, “Captain, move away from that place. Come to me quickly.” I ran toward him and had not even reached him when, in the place where I had previously stood, a grenade exploded, opening up a pit. If I had been there, my body would have been blown into the air in shreds. I wanted to thank the little friar who had called me, but he was no longer there. He had disappeared without my realizing it and even though I looked around for him I never saw him again.

On the same day that my life was saved, another person told me that a beautiful monk had saved him from death as well. Other soldiers at the Italian base said they had seen a friar among them who looked toward Heaven and prayed. One of these soldiers said that the priest who had been on the battlefield was Padre Pio who lived in San Giovanni Rotondo. I wanted to come here and see if he was the friar who had saved me as his face remained imprinted in my mind. Now I know that it was him. You can imagine what gratitude I feel toward this holy priest. I am happy to have been able to thank him personally and to kiss his hand.” – Maria Pompilio ______________________________

My name is Jim Cunningham. I was born in 1924 and was in the military during World War II, stationed in Foggia, Italy. I was assigned to a photo reconnaissance squadron and I heard about Padre Pio from the townspeople in Foggia. One day I decided to visit him so I took two other G I’s with me and drove a military jeep up the mountain to the monastery. It was in 1945 and I was twenty-one years old. I attended his Mass and felt very fortunate as all of the soldiers that were present were invited to sit right up on the altar, very close to Padre Pio. I was able to clearly see the wounds on his hands. Seeing his devotion at Mass was a very moving experience. He celebrated Mass in such a way that I was able to comprehend the sacredness of the Mass. His whole being inspired me.

Padre Pio was a very humble man and at the same time he was open and friendly. I had learned that Padre Pio liked grapefruit juice, so on my second visit to San Giovanni Rotondo I brought some juice. I was able to go to San Giovanni three times to see Padre Pio.

Mary Pyle, Padre Pio’s secretary, invited me to lunch at her home. She told me that she had come to Italy from the U.S. just for a visit. Shortly after she met Padre Pio, she decided to stay permanently. Her esteem for him was such that she had a great desire to be near him. She stayed in San Giovanni Rotondo for the rest of her life. Mary’s life was one of complete dedication to Padre Pio. She helped him in so many ways.

Meeting Padre Pio and attending his Mass truly changed my life. It was a great blessing. I have never met anyone in my life who had such a great devotion to God. On a number of occasions I have been invited to church groups to speak about Padre Pio. Today I am 82 years old. Many years have gone by, but my wife and I still feel his presence with us. It is overwhelming. ______________________________

Father Joseph Pius Martin – who assisted Padre Pio for a number of years, received the following testimony from Kevin Patrick Fitzpatrick.

Kevin Patrick Fitzpatrick who worked in Manchester, England in 1947 became acquainted with a man who had been a soldier in the British Army during World War II. During their advance against the German Army, this soldier and the others in his company came to the area of San Giovanni Rotondo. For some days British artillery had been firing into the areas surrounding the friary, but to their amazement none of the shells were exploding. When British Intelligence officers questioned the local Italian people, they were told that this was not to be wondered at since a very holy priest, Padre Pio lived at the friary.

One of the British Army officers was staying at the friary. One night he heard a voice constantly calling out. He went to investigate to see where the sound was coming from. When he came to the door of Padre Pio’s cell, he heard Padre Pio praying the Glory Be to the Father. He repeated the prayer slowly, over and over again. The soldier was deeply edified. ______________________________

A Grace in Time of War

My brother was serving in the army and had been sent to Viet Nam. Every night our family prayed for his safe return. I carried Padre Pio’s photo with me and prayed to him often for my brother. I felt Padre Pio’s presence with me and shortly after that, my brother wrote to say he would be coming home. When he did come home, he was a different person. After that terrible war he became more quiet and serious. We never asked questions about his experiences and he never spoke much about it. He did mention one experience which seemed very peculiar to him. He said that one day his company was sent ahead of the others to check for the Viet Cong. They were looking through the bush with their guns, when suddenly all of the soldiers smelled the fragrance of roses. They kept saying “Where are the rose bushes? It sure smells good out here.” They never did find the rosebushes and were sent back to camp. Another company was sent out to inspect the same territory. How tragic to say that the company was ambushed and not one survived the attack. According to the calculations, the Viet Cong had been there lurking in the bush all along, when my brother and the others in his company were in that area. But for some strange reason, they were not attacked and they very easily could have been. I know it was Padre Pio who saved my brother’s life. – I. Ahmadzai ______________________________

A Letter from Padre Pio to Padre Agostino

“We are passing through a solemn hour. Up to the present we have not been involved in this grievous war which has now gone on for a year . . . We must all cooperate for the common good and make God’s mercy propitious to us in this difficult time, by humble and fervent prayer and by the amendment of our lives.

We must not be down-hearted, dear Father, or lack the filial confidence we owe to our God just because He appears to be angry with us. If it is to come to pass again today that he looked around at them with anger ( Mark 3:5) let us fully understand this. God still loves us, He is still merciful toward us. His looking around with anger, Father, is the language of His sorrowful love; this is the expression which comes from His sorrowing heart at the sight of our wickedness. These are the artifices to which His mercy resorts in order to stop us on our way to perdition. . . .” – Letters I, May 31, 1915

#padre pio

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mvrymacdonald-blog · 6 years

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All Things Beautiful

Mary + Winter Ballet Recital

Location: Royal Opera House / December 21st, 1976

I gave this a title, yes I did. For reference I’m just sort of listening to Broadway music, specifically “Stronger” from Finding Neverland but it’s definitely not set to that song. :))

Five minutes to stage.

Mary took a breath. Her hair and makeup were perfect, her pointe shoes were on and properly secure to her feet. She felt steady in them. She’d warmed up, her muscles felt relaxed and nothing hurt. Henri was right behind her, dressed in coordinating ways. He was to be Jack Frost, in a sense. A trickster of winter, manipulative and cunning, and there to destroy everything that was beautiful. Mary was the opposite, she was the so-called victim, the winter fairy, determined to restore what Henri’s character destroyed.

She knew when choreographing, choosing costumes and music, and the like, that it was not just a winter fairytale, based on a children’s story from her past, but in every way a testament to her own story. It was what made sharing the dance feel so vulnerable and so freeing at the same time. Mary’s hand slipped into Henri’s and she gave it a reassuring squeeze, offering her partner a smile. He looked down at her, giving her a nod in response. “Do not fret, mon amour, you will be brilliant.” He promised in that accent she adored so much. Henri was like a sort of uncle or big brother to her, older and a veteran in the world of dance. His name, unlike hers, was more or less known in the ballet community, and he took great pride in that. The dance held higher stakes for him in terms of technical skill and his reputation as a professional, whereas Mary’s stakes were in making this right for herself, in healing through the steps she took.

One minute to stage.

Time was moving too quickly and not fast enough. Already, Mary’s heart hammered in her chest. She was positive Henri could hear it himself, but she knew that was untrue when she approached her fear with logic. She closed her eyes, blocking out the rest of the world. Her father had told her to dance for herself. This dance was entirely for herself. It was a plot driven performance, one that would look simply entertaining on the surface, but she knew what it meant. Henri was going to get in her head, he was going to invade her space, he was going to make her feel small and afraid as part of his character. She had to trust him. She had to trust that he was simply acting, she had to trust that he wouldn’t actually let her fall. She had to trust that he would remain steady and firm, that he’d be aware and ready for each lift, each step.

It wasn’t an easy thing for Mary to do at all, but she was determined to do it. Courage was doing things that scared you, in spite of the fear in the pit of your stomach. She heard the first beats of the music, knowing exactly what was happening on the stage. The lights were changing to a soft blue glow, the wintery scene was something straight out of a children’s novel. She knew the orchestra was sitting straight, watching their director while rehearsed fingers gave Mary her cues. She silently thanked them as she opened her eyes and began to move. Four seconds and she’d be on stage. Three seconds. Two seconds.

She was on stage.

At first, it was just her on the stage. She moved with practiced grace and elegance, though the steps she transitioned through were far from easy. Her focus was on the story. Her facial expressions had to be everything. She knew her friends and family were in the audience, watching as the story began to unfold. Within a moment, Henri had joined her on stage. He was taller, looming around her. What Mary couldn’t see was the mischief on his face, in his motions. She had turned her body toward him purposefully, missing the warning signs as he danced about. He played the troublemaker in every way.

But Mary didn’t see, what she saw of him was every part the gentleman. For the unknowing audience it was meant to be funny, as Henri shifted personalities with his body language, with his facial expressions, going from magical trickster, to nearly romantic gestures. He bowed to her, he guided her through steps similar to any romantic pas de deux. He was her partner, and yet every so often Mary would spin away from him, and he’d return to his naughty ways. It was going smoothly, she hadn’t truly stumbled yet, even if she hadn’t gotten high enough on her last shift from demi pointe to fully being en pointe.

It was nothing that took away from the story, or from the way Mary was feeling. It was freeing, even if it was vulnerable, to dance this way. Every step was matched with Henri’s precision, but she braced herself for what was coming. Henri’s movements became larger, more demanding, more controlling as he tightened his grip on her, or seemed to. She wasn’t quite as far away from him anymore, instead she was nearly constantly touching him in some way. The music adjusted as well, becoming more intense.

Mary’s facial expressions and body language changed too. The trusting, relaxed smile became one of force, concern etched across her face more than once as she tried to move away from him only to be pulled back. The first lift was in response to her “attempt” to pull away. She braced herself as his hands found hers, the weightlessness of being in the air mellowed by the knowledge of how this lift was meant to look: not as freeing and silly, but as pulling her away from where she wanted to be.

Soon Henri was completely around her. No matter where she turned, he met her. Her eyes were wider, her cheeks flushed, lips parted as she was pulled back each time, as she was blocked in by purposeful blocking in the choreography. Despite her best attempts, and despite the fact that she’d rehearsed this a thousand times, she felt small again. She longed to be free of him. Her heart hammered louder and louder, but she had to focus. The lighting had progressively darkened as well, making the stage look like a winter storm and not the winter wonderland it had been. It wasn’t real, she reminded herself. She knew what happened at the end of the story. She wrote it. She won. She would always win this story, no matter what.

The most important lift was coming. Another eight count. She prepared herself. Trust, she reminded. Trust Henri. He wasn’t going to stumble. His arms would be steady, his core controlled. It was a Russian lift, though modified for the needs of the dance, a nod toward the composer she’d chosen, and to certain friends who she happened to adore. She felt Henri’s hands move into position as he lifted her above his head. She focused on clean lines, despite the fear in the pit of her stomach. That was what made her a Gryffindor. She was petrified, but she was doing it anyway, to tell her story, to scream it from the tops of her lungs. She was giving herself a voice, and she’d be damned if she was going to let fear of falling take that from her.

The music, much faster now, was reaching its climax point. She moved, pretty hands, pretty feet, as Henri held her. It felt like forever in the air, though she knew it wasn’t. Then she was falling, falling, falling, so close to the ground. She was going to hit the stage. She was going to hit the--no. In the last second Henri moved as he needed to, keeping Mary from the floor. She was steady again in half a second, and it took everything in her not to grin, to keep the character face on instead. She had heard the gasps from the audience. It had been a risky move, but one she saw as crucial. She’d fallen, so hard, felt so small and out of control, but in the last moments she had regained control. It was Henri in truth, of course, but from the audience’s view, Mary had stopped herself from falling completely.

It signified what Mary wanted to be true. Dominic had pushed her down, had made her fall, lower and lower with each day. Like Henri’s character, he’d invaded her space, he’d controlled her, he’d haunted her like a winter storm. But this was her declaration of freedom, even if it wasn’t true, even if it didn’t feel true yet. It was her dance, her story, she got to choose. Mary, as the winter fairy, began to fight back. The lighting began to brighten again, returning toward the light blue, the winter storm turning back to winter wonderland, the music more playful and happy again as she moved out of Henri’s reach over and over. As she pushed back with him, sending him away.

Henri, to his credit, played his part especially well. He showed the frustration, the annoyance, with each step. His character was a trickster, after all, mean and hurtful, but he wasn’t a Mulciber. Another eight count and Mary had “sent” him to the ground. She was above him, elegant lines a testament to her technique. The fatigue had long since set in, but she pushed through, Her hand found Henri’s as he rose to his feet. He swept into another bow, a sign of defeat rather than mockery this time before he took his leave from the stage.

Once more Mary was alone, lights on her, every eye, the music would end soon, very soon, but she felt freer than she had in a very long time. Her relaxed, peaceful smile had completely returned as she spun. The winter fairy had won. She had restored all things beautiful. The music came to a close, in the exact moment Mary finished. She’d had a few missteps, minor things that she’d scold herself for later, but it was the first time in a long time she’d truly put her whole self into a dance. She swept into a révérence, accepting the applause though she could barely hear over her heart thundering in her ears. She held her arm out as Henri returned, taking his bow as well, and then together.

They’d done it. She’d done it.

#( drabbles )#( event: recital )#( this was actually so hard to write pls forgive me )#( i just wanted the idea of the story for everyone okie )#( lion heart girl )

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anthonianrhapsody-blog · 7 years

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The Canvas

by Dianne Estigoy

Some say that death is only the beginning of a person’s bigger adventure; life after death. If anyone had asked Henry Cooper, he would have said that those people were foolish to have believed in things such as reincarnation and resurrection. But then a grieving heart sometimes wishes for the impossible.

Though it was the first day of winter on December, Henry still made a way to visit the cemetery that day. Clearly, it wasn’t a perfect weather for one to be out and about. As soon as he stepped out of his car, the winter wind howled through the desolate cemetery and bit at his frozen skin. A pile of brown frosted leaves laid white and sharp on the ground. Ahead, the path glistened like a thick, white, silky carpet of ice crystals. The crisp white snow sprinkled down from a grey clouded sky and floated to the ground with grace covering every tombstone there was. He struggled his way through the knee-deep snow; using his already numb hands, he scooped his way in. After a deliberate fight out of the gusty winter snow, Henry finally arrived at his destination.

Rows of tombstones stood in silence to the left and right, in front and behind, like a sea of dead. Some were weathered with centuries; some were smooth marble with new black inscriptions. The smell of old stone filled the stiff dry air. Slowly, Henry approached a headstone made of pure black marble with a newly gold painted inscription engraved at the stone. He laid a bouquet of flowers in front of the grave. Henry breathed out a heavy sigh.

“Merry Christmas, Love,” he said with a single tear rolling down his chin.

It had been almost three months since his wife, Linda, died of brain tumor. There had never been a single delightful day in their home since then.

He didn’t spend much time at the cemetery because of the weather conditions. Henry went straight home where his children waited for him. The streets were lined with multiple colored lights and numerous joyous people strolling down the park. It was a fine day for everyone except for him. Henry couldn’t seem to find beauty in anything nor in anyone since the day his wife left. He was filled with so much sorrow and anger for the world. He viewed everything negatively.

As Henry approached the driveway, his youngest son eagerly welcomed him.

“Is mommy home yet? When will she come back, daddy?”

“Don’t be so stupid, Nathan. Mommy’s dead and she will never come back,” Clayton replied irritatingly at his young brother. A loud cry roared across the room as Nathan became upset at what his brother said.

“You could at least be gentle to your younger brother, Clayton,” his father scolded him for being rude and insensitive. Clayton went straight to his bedroom and slammed the door shut. Henry comforted Nathan while carefully explaining the situation. He then put his son to bed to rest up for a little bit.

“You rest for now, okay? We’ll be opening presents later for Christmas!” Henry said, pretending to be cheerful for his son.

He prepared Christmas dinner all night for the three of them. The delicious smell of roasted chicken and the heavenly aromas of the savory dishes wafted through the house, awakening the children. They were surprised to see such a grandiose dinner well-prepared by their father. The table was lined with the most mouthwatering dishes one could ever imagine. Freshly baked lasagna filled with loads of meat and covered with hot melted mozzarella cheese, honey glazed tender ham lined with fresh crisp vegetables, steaming hot buttery Brussel sprouts roasted in the oven, and, most importantly, the sweet decadent homemade chocolate cake their mother used to bake. The children were most delighted to see the joyful Christmas tree with sparkling lights that stood up at the side of their couch. Underneath it, there were two boxes of presents for Nathan and Clayton.

“Wow! Are those for us, daddy?” Nathan asked excitedly.

“Yes, they are for you, Nathan,” Henry giggled.

“Woah, what’s up with you, dad?” Clayton smirked, staring curiously at his father.

“Well… After all, it’s Christmas,” he replied, smiling at his son.

They filled their stomachs with the bountiful food that had been laid out for them and filled their hearts with loads of laughter and love that night. They spent the rest of the evening telling stories to each other - stories that made them laugh, stories that touched their hearts, and stories that sparked so many questions in the children’s heads.

Right in the middle of the living room’s wall, a gigantic painting covered in glass was placed there. It was strictly prohibited to be touched by anyone. This caught the eye of the little boy Nathan.

“Daddy, why can’t we ever touch that painting in the wall?”

“It was a painting of your grandpa’s. Since I was a child, he told me not to touch it. He even protected it with glass just so no one can even lay a finger on it.”

“Why is that, daddy?”

“I don’t know, son. Let’s just keep it that way for whatever reason it is.”

“Dad, were you and grandpa close when you were young?” Clayton asked.

“Yes… When I was a child…”

“What happened when you grew up?”

“There are things in the past that I no longer want to talk about, son. Sometimes we just have to forget and let things go with the past,” Henry said, not wanting to discuss the topic any further.

After a long night of storytelling, Henry tucked his kids to bed, giving him much time to spend alone. He went to get some beer for himself and sat right next to the fireplace. There, he stared at the painting, recalling memories from his childhood.

Growing up, Henry had always looked up to his father. He had been a great painter that was idolized by many for his great talent. Henry had loved his father so dearly until there came a time where his father was thought to be crazy. Consumed by painting, he’d lost time for his family. There were days where he’d tuck Henry to sleep, telling stories of the “another world” called Aurelia. Henry remembered those nights where his father would enthusiastically tell him stories of Aurelia. It was told to be a place where wishes were granted in an instant and most of all, in that world, one could resurrect the dead into living. He told these stories to Henry like it was a real world. Soon enough, nights like those disappeared as his father worsened with his obsession for painting, like a looney toon trying to invent something out of his paintings. His mother fell ill and soon enough, it got worse and she died of it.

As years went by, his hatred for his father grew even worse. Too little to no time was given to him, it was as if he loved his paintings more than his only son. There were times when his father would go missing for days and just pop up out of the blue back in their house, leaving no clue as to where he came from. These lasted for a few more years until one day, he never came back. His father was never seen again.

His flashbacks stopped as a text message beeped through his phone. It was Mary, his sister, greeting him a Merry Christmas. He was drunk before he even knew it. Still, he managed to stand up and pick up their family picture on the table right in front of the painting. Henry zigzagged towards the table, not knowing that cables of Christmas lights were lying on the floor. Before he even realized this, he lost control of his body and stumbled upon the tangled cords. There was nothing for him to hold onto and he fell into the air. In a split second, he went fell straight into the glass painting, breaking it into shards of glass. Henry barely knew what was happening to him but then out of the blue, he felt water choking him. He was drowning! He tried to swim but he didn’t have enough energy to swim out of the water. Suddenly, an arm raised him up from the drowning state he was in. Henry felt his world turning around him.

“Hey, are you alright, sir?” a soft, worried voice asked.

“Why did you help him?! Are you nuts?” a boy retorted; he slapped his face with his palm from his frustration.

“What did you want me to do? Let him die?” the girl argued.

“Return him before he wakes up!” the boy implied, shouting in a soft voice.

Henry was aware of the voices above him but wasn’t strong enough to know who they were or where he was. Not long after, he fell into unconsciousness, even before knowing what had happened .

“Daddy? Wake up, daddy!” a voice called out to him. It was Nathan.

“Wh-what? Where am I?” Henry groaned.

“What? You’re here, daddy. Why didn’t you sleep in your room last night?”

“What happened?”

“Maybe we should be the one asking you that question, dad,” Clayton said.

“Yes, daddy. Why is the glass from the painting broken? Did you break it. daddy?”

Henry suddenly jumped out from the sofa and checked the painting. There were shards of glass everywhere. He thought it had been a dream. Had it been real?

“It can’t be,” he mumbled to himself.

“Uh, I was drunk last night and I stumbled upon the painting, that’s all,” he explained.

Not wanting to spark any curiosity from the children, he instead asked them to clean their bedrooms and get ready, promising to treat them for a movie. The children went straight upstairs and completed their tasks enthusiastically. It has been long since they last went on a movie date.

Henry went to clean the mess in their living room despite the headache he had from last night. He couldn’t help but wonder what had really happened but he didn’t want to risk touching the painting again. Filled with so many questions, he started to think about his father’s stories. Was his father really crazy? Could any of those stories be real?

“Eek! Daddy, why is our sofa wet?!” Nathan asked as he sat in the sofa, disgusted.

Henry was startled from what Nathan asked. He was busy thinking about the mysterious dream. He checked the sofa and it was really wet. It was as if someone had lain there right after swimming without drying their self. It came back to him that he was drowning last night. But where had all the water came from? Why had he been drowning? Realizing that it hadn’t been a dream, his eyes grew wide open and his heartbeat grew fast, not wanting to believe that it was all true. He rushed the kids out of the house to clear his mind. He must’ve been crazy to think that it wasn’t a dream, Henry thought to himself while glancing at the old mysterious painting.

They spent their day at the mall, watching movies and playing arcade games the children loved. Clayton and Nathan seemed to enjoy their day together except Henry. He was bothered by the painting all day. He just kept quiet and seemed to look nowhere, thinking deeply. The children noticed this and couldn’t help but ask.

“Hey dad, what’s wrong with you? Is there something going on?” Clayton asked.

“Huh? No, no nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about your mom,” Henry replied, lying to his children.

“We miss mommy too, daddy,” Nathan said trying to comfort Henry.

After a tiring day at the mall, they all went home, excited to slack off in their own beds. On the way home, Henry couldn’t help but think about the painting and his father. Was that the reason why his father kept them from touching it all these years?

“Daddy, when will you fix the broken glass of the painting?” Nathan asked, staring at Henry.

“Uh… Maybe next time, son. I’m too busy right now. Just remember not to touch it, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

“Be sure not to touch it. Do you understand, Clayton and Nathan?” Henry asked once again.

“Yes, daddy. We promise,” they answered in chorus.

As soon as they arrived home, the two went straight in their bedrooms to sleep, except for Henry. He sat in the couch where the painting faced him and waited for the children to be sound asleep. Henry tried to bargain with himself, whether he was to touch it and see if it was real and know the answers for himself, or just to let it stay as a mystery. He sat there for hours until he decided. Henry stood up from the couch and slowly approached the painting. Every step towards the painting made his heart race, not knowing what was ahead of him. As he stood right in front the painting, he inhaled deeply. He prepared himself of what might happen. Henry placed his hand on the painting to know what it really was. To his surprise, his hand passed right through the canvas. He felt warm water running through his fingers. Immediately, he pulled his hand out of the painting and, true enough, his hand was soaking wet. Urged by the temptation to find more answers, he jumped right inside the painting. A warm river of summer welcomed him as his body succumbed right through the painting. He swam his way up to the land, driven by his will to know the mysteries behind the hidden world. As he reached the land, the marvelous beauty of the world his father had been crazy about took his breath away. He was awed by the beautiful sight he wasn’t expecting to see. The sky of blue filled with pure white cotton like clouds. The lands filled with luscious green grass and flowers and trees of rainbows. Majestic animals that he had never seen before and insects that seemed like they were made from a child’s dream. Houses so perfect one would foolishly think that they were drawn to perfection. It was a world of human fantasies that could never be true. Henry’s admiration for the beautiful view was interrupted when a sudden rustle from the trees behind alarmed him.

“Who’s there?” Henry shouted in fear.

A fine, seemingly innocent woman came out of the woods. Henry calmed and stared at her.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m Margarethe. Why did you go back? You can’t be here. It has been decades since a human entered this world!” she exclaimed.

“What do you mean ‘went back?’ And what is this world?”

“Can’t you remember? I’m the one who saved you from drowning.”

“I, uh, thought it was a dream. But then what world is this?”

“It’s… This is Aurelia.”

Henry was not expecting for the answer Margarethe gave him. His father had been telling the truth all along. Aurelia, the world where the dead could come back to life. Maybe this was the reason why his father became more obsessed with his paintings after his mom died, Henry thought, remembering his father’s stories back when he was a child.

“Margarethe?! What have I told you? You stay away from him!”

“But Jacob, we can’t just leave him here. He looks kind to me.”

It was Margarethe’s brother. He had always hated strangers and hated humans from Earth even more. But then Margarethe insisted and he just couldn’t say no to her. They brought Henry to their home, and was gladly served with food by their grandmother. Henry had so many questions in his head but he was too shy to ask one at the moment.

“How did you find this place, son? I’m sure you’re not from here, are you?” the old lady asked Henry.

“Uh… There was this painting in our house that was made by my father. And, I don’t know, I just stumbled into it the other night.”

“Ah… Alfred, he was such a good friend of mine,” the old lady said.

Henry was shocked when she said the name of his father.

“How did you know my father?”

“He was the first human to have ever entered our world. A painting made out of his frustrations and trapped wishes from within his soul. No one ever knew how his paintings opened a door between our worlds.”

“My father disappeared without a trace as to where he went… Could he possibly be here?”

“The last thing he said to me was that he would be off for a long, long journey. Since then, I never saw him again. No one ever did. I’m sorry for that, son.”

Henry was offered to stay for the night because it might be dangerous for him to go back to where he came from during the night. He agreed and just decided to leave first thing in the morning before his children woke up. The next day, he woke up early and was sent off by Margarethe. Henry asked for a favor from her before he bade goodbye - it was to wait for him at the same spot every 9pm. She hesitated at first but eventually agreed.

At home, he was lucky enough that his children hadn’t woken up yet. He rushed to change his soaking wet clothes and blow dried the carpeted living room they had. Henry started their day normally except that his mind was occupied by so many thoughts the whole day. Henry couldn’t wait for the day to end and for the clock to turn to 9pm. When the sky grew dark, Henry rushed the kids to bed and immediately went off to go to Aurelia.

Margarethe stood waiting by the river at exactly 9pm. As Henry said, he arrived on time at their meeting place. Margarethe led him to her hiding place where she stayed whenever she wanted to be alone. They went inside a cave where the walls were engraved with unusual carvings. Drips of water fell by the ceiling that was filled with bats and different kinds of insects. At the very end of the cave, there was a small couch placed by the wall and a mattress fit for one person with some stocked food too.

“You sure own this place, huh?”

“Yeah, I discovered this when I was 12 and no one ever seemed to pass by this place so I figured why not make this place my hideout?”

Margarethe lit a bonfire for them and they sat right next to each other. When everything had settled and calmed, Henry started to ask Margarethe questions.

“My father used to tell stories about Aurelia when I was a child but then I didn’t believe him because he seemed to be crazy. He had mentioned that wishes come true in here and in fact, you can bring the dead back to life in this world. Is that true as well?”

Margarethe’s eyes grew wide open and wasn’t able to speak a word. She didn’t know what to say nor how to explain it.

“Uh… uhm… Yes, it’s true that wishes come true in here but they were only given to the people worthy of them.”

“What about bringing the dead back to life?”

She looked away, not wanting to answer the question Henry had asked her. Margarethe sighed and decided to answer it truthfully.

“People say that it’s possible and some have already done it but it has been centuries ago and no one knew what happened to those who tried. In the present time, no one has ever attempted to do it because the path to our god’s temple is dangerous. It is placed deep below this world, the god’s well is what they call it.”

“Where is it? How can I go there?” Henry asked, eager to know the answer.

“You know, Henry, I shouldn’t really tell you all this. You might get yourself in trouble.”

“Please, Margarethe, it’s worth trying. I want my wife back… My life lost its meaning when I lost her. Please, this would mean so much to me…”

Margarethe felt so guilty about herself for feeding Henry information and now he might put himself into danger. She couldn’t stand to see Henry beg so she gave the answer to Henry.

“Just please promise me not to tell anyone about this. They say that the god’s well can be found at the end of the river, it is where the water falls and goes back to us as a blessing from our gods. If you will follow the current of the river, it will lead you there. But remember not to fall with the water or else you’ll be dead from all the rocks that might hit you. The only way down is to climb the steep walls of the well if you are strong enough to do so.”

Henry thanked Margarethe for the very helpful information. He decided to go back home before it turned midnight to prepare himself for a journey. When he arrived home, he was surprised to hear his children awake. Henry panicked and sneaked in as fast as he could to change into his dry clothes. Before he knew it, his children were already at the living room searching for him. He popped out of the comfort room which surprised his children.

“Where have you been, dad?” Clayton asked.

“I, uh, have been outside. I just went in minutes ago,” Henry said, scratching his head.

“Why is the carpet wet, daddy?” Nathan asked, noticing that trails of wet footprints were on the carpet.

“I went out for a bit, son, and you know, there was snow and it made my boots wet,” Henry answered nervously. “Enough questions now and off to bed again.”

Clayton was curious but didn’t say a word. He felt something odd but wasn’t sure of what it was. They went upstairs and went to sleep as soon as their father told them. Henry made a hard decision of going back to Aurelia to take the risk of bringing his wife back. He felt sorry for his children that they might lose both their parents at a very young age but Henry thought the possibilities of him bringing back his wife and the mother of the children back to life. Henry contacted his sister, Mary, and informed her that he might be gone for a while and requested her to look after his children for him. Mary agreed immediately because she always loved her brother’s children, having no children of her own. Henry kissed his children goodbye while they were asleep and went off to Aurelia before Mary could arrive at his house.

It was already midnight when he went back to Aurelia. As beautiful as it was at day, by the time the sky was covered with darkness, it seemed like every danger lurked around him. Doubt and fear filled Henry as he went on for a journey with the belief that gods would bring his wife back to life. A belief he once rejected and was disgusted with, and now here he was, bargaining his life against the odds of the strange world. The path was long and tough but the heavens seemed to be with him that day. He arrived at the end of the river by the time the sun rose up. Henry was astounded to see the god’s well that many feared and praised. It was a vast open well, bigger than anything he had seen. If he was fool enough, he’d think that the whole Earth would fit inside the deep well and it almost seemed to look like a black hole. An eerie soft noise that sounded like a whisper of invitation to climb down the well filled the air. It was haunting enough for anyone to back out but it didn’t stop Henry from his motive. He started to climb down the very steep path to the bottom with only his hands and arm strength to use. Winds came splashing to his face, making it even harder for him to climb down, but he was very determined to finish what he started. One wrong move would make him go out of balance and fall to his death bed in an instant. Every step and every rock he’d cling onto must be strong enough to put his weight on to. After hours of deliberately finishing the climb and fighting for his life, at last Henry reached the bottom. It was nothing but an empty silence and a hollow door right in the middle of nowhere. There, Henry entered the seemingly nonsense door but as he walked inside, he had gazed upon a million stars above his head and an exceptional beauty of auroras in the sky. It was a paradise beneath the world that one would ever believe their eyes. At the very center, there came a vessel where gods were believed to live. Henry approached it slowly as it landed at the bottom, nearly approaching the ground. The vessel landed on its huge centipede like feet and opened its uncountable number of eyes, staring directly at Henry.

“What is it that you seek to have traveled this far?” the god asked Henry.

“I seek to bring my wife back to life,” Henry replied without hesitation.

A sudden strong whirl of winds amassed the place then a bright light came flashing through the bottom of the vessel. As the winds calmed, Henry opened his eyes and right before him, the god gave him nothing but a soul without a body. Henry was puzzled and wasn’t able to quite understand the situation.

“Here is what you have asked for. The soul of your loving wife, it awaits for a vessel to be sacrificed.”

“Wh-what? I thought that you’d bring her back to life?” Henry shouted out of disappointment.

“Every wish granted will always be equal to something in return. A new face.” The god grinned at Henry.

He was so puzzled of what was happening but then the vessel suddenly moved one of its feet and slowly picked up Henry from where he stood. He tried to escape but it was too strong. A strong wind stormed the place and covered it with dust. Henry lost control of his body, not knowing what to do. The god opened its enormous mouth and sucked Henry’s soul together with his body. Like a starving animal, it fed itself up with the innocent soul of its foolish people. It was the price they were to pay for wishing for the impossible.

Months passed and not even a sign of their father was ever seen again. Just like his father, Alfred, he too vanished like a bubble popped in the wind.

“Clayton, why is father screaming in the painting? Why are they all screaming?” Nathan asked, creeped out by the canvas hanging by their wall.

“Ugh. It’s nothing, don’t mind it. Grandpa just wanted it like that,” Clayton answered.

“I touched the painting last night, brother… Why did my hand disappear when I touched it?” Nathan asked once again. This time, he got Clayton’s attention.

“Huh? What? That’s nothing. You were just sleepy. You’re always silly, Nathan. Don’t ever touch it again, understood?” Clayton replied in shock.

“Okay, Clayton. I promise.”

Clayton tucked his brother to sleep right after their conversation, fearing that he might ask more questions. He then immediately went downstairs to fix the mess his brother made earlier. As the painting caught his eyes, he thought of his father and sighed heavily. He missed their father too even though they weren’t always on the same side. Clayton approached the painting and examined it carefully. He remembered the day his father kissed them for the very last time and left.

“I’m going to find you, father,” Clayton promised to himself as he touched the painting, knowing what was ahead of him.

#short story #nakpil #ssaseniorhigh

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qu33n-of-pasta · 7 years

Text

Caught in my web: chapter 5

Authors note: Sorry for taking literally forever to update. Seniors years coming to a close for me, and prom planning has begun. I also just needed to step back and let my creative juices replenish. All those essays really drained me D: I can just reply to comments on A03, but fanfic.net is different, so I’ll just reply to reviews at the end of the chapters from now on.

The morning sunlight shone dimly through the blinds in Peter Parkers bedroom. Laying snuggly in the middle of Peter’s bed, was Sam Alexander. Peter had unknowingly fallen asleep beside his crush last night, luckily he was the first to wake up, and he did so with the grace of a water buffalo.

Somehow that night the two boys had ended up spooning, and when Peter had realized their positions, he quickly extricated the younger teen from his arms, much to his disdain.

Although Peter had literally dreamed of waking up next to his crush like this, he really didn’t want to have to explain why he had an erection to his best friend.

Yeah he felt bad about it, but what young boy wouldn’t get aroused from having his crush sleeping soundly in his arms. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Sam woke up about 30 minutes after Peter did. The younger boy stretched out with a yawn, trying his best to force his eyes open. Sam turned over to snuggle up with his pillow, but only managed to roll off the bed with a thud.

He groaned as he slowly peeled himself off the floor. He stood up in a zombie like fashion, running his hand through his messy hair as he began to realize where he was.

‘Peter’s room?’ he thought to himself as he looked around the older boy’s bedroom.

On the walls, were various band posters, and a periodic table. The room wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t the most organized either. A cheeky grin spread across Sam’s face as he realized that this was his first time being alone in Peters room. This was the perfect time to snoop.

Sam crept his way over to Peter’s desk, but stopped himself before he could open any drawers. Something about trifling through his best friend’s things made him feel guilty. He frowned, taking his hand off the drawer.

He let out a grumpy sigh, ‘Stupid web head’ he thought as he stormed out of the bedroom.

Sam had a light scowl as he was walking down the stairs, wondering where the heck Peter was.

He sighed. ‘Guess I’ll make us some breakfast,’ he thought as he groggily made his way down the stair case and through the living room.

Sam’s fuzzy socks were warm on the carpet, until he stepped onto the now wet linoleum of Peters kitchen floor.

Looking down, he saw that his sock was now soaked in a thick yellow substance.

Sam’s face recoiled in disgust at the yellow goop that he had just stepped in. On one leg, he hopped his way to one of dining room chairs.

With the whole kitchen in his view, he could piece together that what he had stepped in must have been egg yolk.

The kitchen was a mess. Mixing bowls were scattered around the counters, a frypan was webbed to the ceiling, and on the table, was what Sam assumed to be a charred ham.

” So this is what happens when Webs tries to make breakfast?” he chuckled.

With a grin, he began to clean up the mess that Peter had left behind.

Sporting only one sock, Sam was able to clean up the mess that Peter had made, he even managed to do some of the dishes from the day before; Peter wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t good at doing household chores.

After he had finished cleaning the kitchen, he hopped his way towards the stairs so that he could steal a sock from Peter.

Right as he had stepped foot on the stairs, the front door swung open, revealing a very disheveled looking Peter Parker. In the doorway, the older boy stood clutching onto two to-go bags from I-hop.

Peter’s eyes widened when he saw Sam, “I bought breakfast!” he blurted out as he held up the I-hop bags with a grin.

The two boys started laughing as they saw each other, “I’m gonna go borrow a sock, so you go ahead and set some plates for us okay?”

Peter let out a nervous laugh as he remembered the mess he had left in the kitchen, “Sounds good!”.

Peter waited until Sam was out of sight before he bolted towards to the kitchen, hoping that he could at least hide the mess he had made.

When he was in the kitchen, Peter stood in awe. The counters were spotless, and the floors had even been mopped. A blush tinged Peters face when he imagined his typically abrasive crush cleaning like a loving housewife.

With a goofy smile, he pulled out two plates and some cutlery for them to eat with. Carefully, he took the styrofoam to-go boxes out of their bags, and began transferring the pancakes to the plates.

Peter had everything neatly arranged, he even got out a couple of glasses for orange juice. Normally, he would have just scarfed the food down from inside their containers, but today he wanted to make a good impression on Sam.

With his hands to his hips, Peter let out a triumphant huff. ‘Things around the house sure are great when Sam is around’ he thought.

“Hey, Peter?” Asked the younger boy from the doorway.

Peter whipped around to face the other boy, “Yeah?”

“Wasn’t I supposed to be your maid?” Sam questioned as he sat at the table Peter had prepared. “Why didn’t you wake me up to cook breakfast?”

Peter smiled bashfully at the ground as he sat down in the chair across from Sam. “You looked really peaceful, so I thought I’d try to make some for you instead.”

Sam smiled, “You didn’t have to do that, webs” he said softly.

Peter looked up and made eye contact with the other boy, then grinned. “I know.”

Unsure of how to deal with the embarrassing tint spreading across his face, Sam shoveled the last remaining chunk of pancake into his mouth, syrup dribbling down his chin.

“um gnna gt drssd” (I’m gonna get dressed) he mumbled before getting up and making a bee-line towards the bathroom.

Peter just stared with a puzzled look on his face, shrugged, then proceeded to eat the rest of his pancakes.

After breakfast, Peter went to his room to play a video game while Sam took a shower.

He had made it to the final boss battle when Sam walked into the room.

“Hey, Peter, do you know where my backpack is?”

“Uhh, Yeah, I think I put it in my clo- “Peter started, his voice trailing off as his jaw dropped.

Standing there with only a towel draped around his waist, was Sam. Warm beads of water stuck to Sam’s tan skin like dew, and it took everything Peter had not to stare.

Checking back into reality, Peter cleared his throat “I-it’s in my closet”

“Okay, thanks” Sam said, turning to the other boys closet to grab his bag, then smirking as he gave an extra amount of sway in his hips while exiting the room.

As he was turned around, Peter took the chance to ogle at Sam’s figure. His eyes traversed the boy’s body all the way from his toned calves, to the way his towel caressed his firm behind, and to the small drops of water that pooled serenely in the curve of his spine.

His stare was broken by the sound of his character dying in the game. He smiled goofily back at the television screen.

“Do I really have to wear this? It’s so itchy,” whined Ava, adjusting the short blonde wig that MJ had forced onto her head.

“Yep, now put on the glasses, and stop being so difficult!” Scolded Mary Jane, who was wearing a black turtle neck sweater with a long black wig.

“Why are we even doing this? We could be studying for the calculus test on Monday.”

Mary Jane pouted her lips and furrowed her brow. Does she really need a reason to spy on her adorkable best friends who happen the be in love with each other?

“Because, as much as I love them. Sam and Peter are both oblivious idiots who won’t tell each other their feeling unless we give them a little push.”

“I’m pretty sure you just want to be nosey, buuut so do I. So, are we just going to watch from a distance?”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh” Ava said, scratching her head nervously.

“Stop messing with the wig!”

Ava mumbled something unintelligible to Mary Jane as they both left early for the movie theatre. She was in for a long night.

Peter and Sam stepped out of their Uber when they reached the movie theatre. The movie had already been out for a while, so there weren’t many people in line.

While they were on their way into the building, Peter had been trying to call MJ, but she wasn’t answering for some reason. He dialed her number again and waited patiently as it rang.

The crisp December air made Sam hug himself as he let out a muffled shiver against his hands; He would never get used to anything other than the warm Arizona weather he was so fond of.

Without warning, Peter pulled Sam into him with his free arm, his gaze turning away from him to hide the flush spreading across his nose bridge.

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, almost automatically, his head had found itself nuzzled into the crook of the older boy’s shoulder.

Each passing second felt like an eternity, and the thumping in his chest was starting to freak him out.

He wondered ‘Do I….no.” he can’t have these feeling. This friendship means too much to him. So he didn’t understand why he couldn’t break out of Peters hold?

In the background of his thoughts, he could hear Peter talking.

“What do you mean you’re sick? You were just fine yesterday?” The older boy asked in a concerned voice that was peppered with irritation.

Inside of the theatre MJ grinned cheekily at Ava, faked a coughing fit, then continued into the phone, “Sorry, Pete, I really can’t make it. But you and Sam shouldn’t let that stop you from seeing it!”

Peter looked over at Sam, who was deep in thought, and looking absolutely adorable against Peters chest. He smiled, “Yeah, you’re right. Get well soon, okay?”

MJ faked a cough and said her goodbye to Peter, then laughed manically inside her head as she pressed the red phone icon, ending her connection to Peter.

Ava couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous her friends were, but secretly, she was glad that Sam and Peter were getting closer.

Peter turned off his phone, then looked to Sam, who was now a deep shade of red. Peter’s stomach did a flip from seeing how cute Sam was. “Well you sure look comfortable.” he said, trying not to smirk.

Sam’s eye’s widened, then he pushed himself out of Peters arm, his blush unfading. He cleared his throat, “Yeah, well, let’s get inside” he said quickly, speed walking towards the door.

Peter felt a pang of guilt, he was kind of happy that MJ couldn’t come.

Peter had to speed walk to catch up to Sam who was waiting for him at the ticket stand. When he made it to the ticket stand he smiled at Sam then turned to the shaggy haired boy selling them.

“Can I have two tickets to Paranormal Activity 8?” The boy accepted Peters money, then counted his change. As he counted, Peter squinted his eyes; He’s seen this boy before.

“Hey, um, do you deliver pizza?”

Sam turned to give him a confused look, “Peter, this is a movie theatre.”

Peter’s ears took on a slightly red flush as he laughed, “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, you delivered my pizza yesterday, remember?”

The shaggy haired boy handed Peter his change and tickets, then blinked slowly. “Oh yeah, you’re the dude with the weird name. Uhhh, Pooter, right?”

Peter’s face turned with a mix of confusion and annoyance “No, no, my name is Pet- “

“Come on, Pooter, we have to get snacks before the movie starts!” Sam exclaimed with a grin as he pulled Peter away while he was in the middle of correcting the shaggy haired boy.

There weren’t any other movie goers in line for snacks, and Peter was grateful that nobody could see the love struck look he got from Sam leading him by the hand.

“Can we have a large popcorn, a bag of gummy bears, and two large cokes please?” Sam asked the snack attendant gleefully.

“Sure thing, hon.” The woman replied, turning around to fetch their items.

Peter smirked, then turned to mess with Sam. “You know, you sure are comfortable with older men buying you things. Sam, is there something you want to tell me?” he said teasingly.

Sam rolled his eyes, then punched Peter in the arm, eliciting a laugh from the older boy.

“Your total is thirty-two dollars exactly,” Said the lady at the snack counter, smiling. Peter filtered through his wallet for the momney, then handed it to her.

While they gathered their things, the lady spoke again. “If you boys don’t mind me asking, how long have you been dating?” she said with a bright smile.

Both of their eyes widened, and Sam’s vision went to the side, while Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Um, we’re not dating,” Sam said bashfully. In his mind, Peter added ‘yet’ to what Sam said.

“Oh, well, pardon me. I just thought…Oh, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed in a southern accent.

“Don’t worry about,” Peter said reassuringly, leading Sam away from the nosey women and towards the room that their movie was being shown in.

There was an awkward silence between the two while the made it into the room showing their movie. Both seemed like they wanted to break the silence, but were unsure of exactly what to say.

The room inside the theatre was pitch black, and the large screen offered no assistance to them. Peter almost instinctively grabbed hold of Sam’s hand and led him to two open seats in the middle of the theatre.

Sam was grateful that his flushed face was unnoticeable in the dimly lit room. “Want some popcorn?” Sam asked as they sat in their seats, breaking the silence between the two.

Peters looked over at Sam surprisingly, then smiled as he picked out a single popcorn and flicked it into his mouth, earning him a wide-eyed chuckle from Sam.

A blood curdling scream blared as the intro to the movie flickered across the screen, and the two boys were suddenly transfixed on the shocking opening scene.

Three rows behind the two boys sat MJ and Ava, both clad in their disguises. Ava seemed to be suppressing her laughter at the movie as she scratched her short blonde wig, and MJ was intensely eating her popcorn while watching Sam and Peter closely.

The movie didn’t appear to have a plot, and was mostly composed of jump scares and found footage scenes. Peter and Sam laughed at the jump scene of the cat ghost. Sam was eating the gummy bears he had ordered, and Peter watched him lovingly as he did.

‘Screw it’ Peter thought as he faked a yawn and stretched his arms around Sam. The younger boy stopped eating his gummy bears, the butterflies in his stomach were making it difficult to eat. Deciding to take in the moment, Sam leaned into Peters side.

Both boys were now grinning from ear to ear as they watched the movie. Peter wasn’t sure if it was just the movie, but he thought he heard a muffled squeal come from behind him.

Three rows back, Ava was struggling to cover the mouth of an ecstatic MJ. The red head couldn’t help herself from screaming “Finally!” against Ava’s palms.

The movie quickly came to an end, and the ending credits had started playing, but Sam and Peter stayed in their seats. Peter looked down at Sam and smiled, “We should get going,” he whispered, trying his best to avoid planting a kiss onto Sam’s head.

Sam pulled out his phone, “Let’s just stay here until the Uber comes.”

Peter grinned, “You know, I could just web us home. It would be faster.”

“Okay, let’s go behind the theatre so no one see’s you”

“Alright, I hope I can still lift you after all that popcorn you ate.” Peter teased, earning him a jab to the ribs from Sam.

Peter yawned with a stretch as he stood, then followed Sam to the staff exit at the back of the room.

The area behind the movie theatre was dimly lit, and the stench of the trash cans forced the two boys to pinch their noses closed.

“Hold on tight, okay?” The older boy said in a nasal tone.

“Okay,” replied Sam as he clutched on to his side tighter than necessary.

Peter shot a web at a nearby building, and they were off.

As they swung from building to building, Peter couldn’t help but relish the moment they were having. He hoped that he wasn’t misreading the signals, but it seemed like Sam was flirting back. ‘Better not push it’ Peter thought to himself.

After about eight minutes they had made it into Peter’s backyard.

“I left the back door unlocked so we can jus- “

“Peter.” Sam said in a determined voice.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around so that he could face him.

With no hesitation, Sam wrapped his arms around Peter’s neck, stood on the tips of his toes, and kissed him.

Peter’s eyes widened at first, but they shut as he deepened the kiss, snaking his arms around Sam’s waist to pull him in closer. Their eyes were still closed as they pulled apart.

After a moment of silence between them, they both broke into laughter.

Peter sighed, then wrapped his arms back around Sam to pull him back in, “What was that for?” he asked breathily.

“You were taking too long,” Sam said with a smirk.

@BlueFH: Thank you!! Sorry for taking so long to update ;-;

@Wingedwrite101: Thank you so much :’D Sorry for taking so long to update! I have a better idea of where this story is going now, so hopefully I’ll start updating more frequently

#spideynova #spiderman #nova #peter parker #sam alexander #gay bois in luv #back back back again

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