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whackdreamer · 8 months

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Broom Lessons

Summary: Morgen and Claire were sent as lecturers for their squad’s ‘Youth Broom Lessons’ volunteer program. Yami and Nacht tagged along as well.

Word count: ~3.4k words

Note: Odette Dumont and Sister Margaret are @hybridanafrost OCs. Claire Polaris is mine.

Morgen thought there couldn’t be a better day for their Youth Broom lessons. He looked up at the blue sky and smiled. The weather was a perfect balance of sunny and cloudy.

Morgen was filled with excitement as he carried a bundle of broomsticks with a skip in his step. Claire followed him while also carrying a bundle of broomsticks. Both were headed to the orphanage where Odette was.

Captain Julius confidently assigned the two Light mages as lecturers. He believed they could easily handle the task.

Morgen and Claire arrived at the orphanage right on schedule. Sister Margaret promptly led them to the classroom. She introduced the two Grey Deer knights standing before the children to be the ones leading today’s lecture. The children had their eyes wide and mouths gape with amazement. It was a special opportunity to see a magic knight up close.

The two light mages introduced themselves formally again. Morgen was as bright and cheerful as ever. He happily greeted the students and told them that he looked forward to the time they’d spend together.

On the other hand, Claire was stern. Not a curl on her lips nor a pleasant tone in her voice. She introduced herself as straightforwardly as possible.

The children attuned well to Morgen’s vibrant energy. Meanwhile, Claire gave the kids an impression of a strict teacher type. But at least they found her voice soothing to listen to.

Yami and Nacht came to the class as well. Overlooking all that was present in the classroom, they both leaned on the wall far behind.

Odette was shaking on her seat. She had been overcome with joy at the sight of both Morgen and Claire as her teachers.

Morgen began his lecture by introducing the basics of broom flight and emphasized the safety precautions before diving in. He gave a fair warning of the risks of flying unprepared but assured the children he wouldn’t let anything dangerous happen to them.

“All in all, you must be able to grasp controlling the movement and speed while flying on your broom,” Morgen explained. “For the next part of our lecture, I’ll have Claire take over.”

Claire stood in the middle. Her eyes swam across the classroom as if having a grasp of each student present.

Yami quietly observed and read Claire’s ki. Unlike her composed manner on the outside, her ki was in a state of unease. He interpreted that Claire was actually quite nervous.

“Has anyone had any experience of flying on a broom by themselves before? Even for a little?” Claire asked.

The kids turned to look at each other, trying to find if someone did.

One boy shyly raised a hand. “I have. I borrowed Sister Margaret’s broom and used it. But I stopped because I got too scared.”

Sister Margaret raised her brow at the boy. At the very least she thought the boy had courage in a different area. She took a mental note to keep an eye on where she leaves her broom behind.

Claire smiled reassuringly at the boy. “I see. And thank you for you’ve raised a good point.”

The boy pointed at himself. He didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Fear. It prevents us from overcoming our weakness. It hinders our ability to think clearly. Just as Morgen said before, control is the most important thing in learning how to fly. But because of fear we end up thinking of failure, or the worst that could happen.”

The rest of the students fell into silence. Odette listened intently to her words.

“Once you see yourself finally high up in the air, you might think ‘I’ll fall’ but a better approach would be to think, ‘I finally did it and I can keep doing it’.

Sister Margaret observed the newbie lecturers from the room’s doorway. Claire was good with her words. On the other hand, Morgen easily captivated his students with his cheerful personality. She commends Julius’ judgement in choosing those knights.

“Before we head out to practice, allow me to explain the concept first.” Claire continued her lecture. Her intent was to give the children an idea of broom flight so they wouldn’t fall into anxiety.

The kids kept listening.

“Do you know what’s so special about flying using a broom?” Claire raised a hand indicating she wanted to hear an answer from the crowd.

Several students raised their hands to answer;

“It’s easy to use?”

“It’s convenient?”

“It’s common?”

They answered.

“So, so close! Any more answers? Come on,” Claire turned around, waiting.

Odette felt a tap on her shoulder. She saw it was Nacht’s shadow hand that did it. The hand went to her desk and wrote using the pencil and paper on it.

“Say ‘Efficient’.” The shadow hand wrote.

Odette turned back to see Nacht who winked at her in response.

Odette raised her hand.

“Yes?” Claire called her.

“Brooms are used because it’s efficient.” Odette answered but not before looking back at Nacht once more.

Claire followed Odette’s line of sight. Nacht had his eyes turned to the side playing dumb to Claire’s suspicions.

“Very good, Odette. That is correct.”

Odette sat back down and grinned widely.

Confusion was the apparent reaction from her students.

“You see, only a small amount of mana is needed to make flight possible using a broom. It’s special because through appropriate mastery, you can conserve energy by controlling the circulation of mana around your broom. That’s what makes it ‘efficient’.” Claire picked up a broom and showed it clearly. “The force produced due to the circulation of mana around the broom is what allows you to fly. Think of this broom as becoming an extension of your own body. Like if you were a bird, the broom is your detachable wing.”

Some kids chuckled at the thought of having detachable wings.

“If you want to fly faster, you pour more mana into it. If you want to change directions, you also control the direction of mana. After grasping that, it's all about practice.”

“Can we now get to the actual broom flying?” Yami yelled from the back.

“This class is getting boring. All I see is broom and no flying,” Nacht faked a yawn.

The two boys at the back snickered and it ticked Claire.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the broom tightly and threw it at them like a spear. It flew past the class of kids and landed right in between Yami and Nacht. The tip of its handle was stuck on the wall like an arrow to a target. “If you interrupt again, I’ll send you flying instead.”

Yami and Nacht nodded simultaneously, “Sorry, ma’am!”

The young students, save for Odette, were now terrified of Claire.

Sister Margaret breathed out a heavy sigh at their childish behavior. It appeared that these knights needed as much supervision as the children under her care.

“I was done with the lecture anyway,” Claire huffed.

Morgen clapped to catch the students’ attention. “Alright! Then let’s go out to practice!”

The children collectively cheered.

What came next surprised Sister Margaret. The reason for Nacht’s presence in class was because he would use his Shadow Magic to transport the kids, taking them as far as into the Forsaken Realm. She could understand their choice of venue. This was a wide-open field. The breeze was refreshing. Perfect training grounds for broom flight practice.

They found themselves in a farming village at the Forsaken Realm called Luin. And this was where Claire grew up.

This happened because Morgen asked a favor to Nacht.

Nacht agreed to help transport the kids, stating his simple reason that he would get to watch Claire teach kids and laugh about it. Choosing the village of Luin was something he discussed with Claire beforehand. Claire agreed to it and even helped him find an appropriate location to place a Shadow Marker in.

“Whoa!” A group of kids gaped at the sight before them.

Some kids couldn’t help but run around the vast stretch of grass.

Claire and Morgen went back to their lessons and had the kids try out their brooms. They provided each child with one broom that they brought with them.

They watched and observed the kids find a comfortable sitting position on their brooms. Most kids had their brooms go between their legs. Some sat with both legs on one side. One kid dared to do it while standing which he immediately stopped doing when he kept falling out of balance.

“So… How do you sit on your brooms?” Odette asked.

“I do it like this.” Yami bent down to a squat, and easily kept his balance on the broom.

“What the heck are you doing? You look like you’re about to drop your shit,” Claire said.

Nacht snorted. Morgen looked away, his hand covering his mouth. Without saying a word, the twins agreed with Claire.

“You’re just jealous because you can’t sit like this!” Yami yelled at Claire.

Odette copied Yami’s squat. But as she tried to fly up, she wobbled on her feet. “This is hard.”

“Just stick with the basics and have it between your legs,” Nacht advised. “Or do it like Morgen and Claire.”

Nacht meant that both Light mages preferred to sit with both legs on one side. Claire did so because of the long skirt she wore, while Morgen had his long tunic.

Odette followed Nacht’s advice and placed the broom between her legs. She shakily gripped the broom’s handle with both hands as she focused on pouring her mana onto it. Remembering what was mentioned in their lecture, Odette controlled the flow of mana.

She struggled to make it work. Seeing her having difficulties, she heard Morgen and Yami providing her with analogies to help her visualize. Hoping it would make her attempt easier.

Morgen compared it like it was having the wind fly a kite. Yami said it was like having the waves carry a boat.

Odette waited for the broom to finally push her off the ground. She grew slightly nervous with every passing second. But it instantly dissolved when she could no longer feel the weight on her feet.

“I did it!” Odette said proudly, repeatedly kicking the air with her feet.

Morgen and Claire clapped happily at her while Yami and Nacht had a grin on their lips.

Odette would forever remember this moment.

Time passed and some kids continued to practice on their brooms. Some kids had taken a break and sat on the grass. Claire, Morgen, as well as Sister Margaret kept their watchful eyes on their students.

Yami went off shortly after Odette’s first attempt at flying. Then he came back carrying a table and placed it down on an even surface. He put a large basket on top of it. Something he had been carrying even at the time they were still back at the orphanage. He took the lid off and smiled proudly at the contents.

Odette also took a short break from her flying practice and laid down on the grass. Her eyes were straight up and admired the skies.

“Psst!”

Odette sat up and turned to the sound. She found Nacht gesturing her to come closer. The girl tried to confirm that he was trying to get her attention specifically and glanced around.

“Come!” Nacht called.

Odette stood up and jogged to his side, her broom in hand.

“I’ll show you some tricks,” he grinned.

Her eyes sparkled with joy and flashed a smile back at Nacht.

Claire and Morgen focused their attention on a group of kids flying on their broom. They kept a close eye and guided them when-

“Ahh!!!” A scream came from far above. Claire and Morgen whipped their heads around only to find Odette falling. Her broom was out of her reach.

The rest of the kids suddenly stopped what they were doing. The class came to a halt.

“ODETTE!” Both light mages screamed.

Reacting swiftly, Morgen opened his grimoire and flew towards her with his arms reaching out. While Claire summoned a palm-sized firefly with a flick of her hand.

Claire’s firefly caught Odette first and it safely carried the girl back down.

There was a frown on Morgen’s face. ‘She was faster.’

Claire almost slumped to the ground in panic at the sight of Odette falling. She gathered herself with a shaky breath. “Oh, thank the heavens.”

Yami roared a laughter, “She went pretty high up!”

Sister Margaret smacked the back of Yami’s head. “Fool! The girl almost died!”

Odette bowed her head, feeling guilty for causing worry to Claire and Morgen. “I was trying to do what Nacht taught me.”

Sister Margaret glared daggers at Nacht.

“Just what on earth were you thinking! Didn’t you listen to the lecture earlier? Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to you had Morgen or Claire weren’t here to look after you?” Sister Margaret scolded Odette.

“Sister, please. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off my student.” Claire stepped in between Odette and Sister Margaret.

“No! This girl needs to learn her lesson!” A brewing rage was apparent in her voice.

“I had it under control. I was about to catch her.” Nacht rolled his eyes.

Sister Margaret marched closer to Nacht. She was planning to shove a handful of salt down his throat.

Morgen called out to stop her. “Sister! Everything is alright. We managed to save Odette in time!”

“Don’t take this lightly! He endangered the life of that young girl,” Sister Margaret said with a raised voice. It was obvious she was furious about what happened.

Nacht snapped back, “She wasn’t in danger! You’re overreacting, old hag.”

Sister Margaret took out her grimoire.

But a sniffle was heard. They all stopped and turned to see tears trailing down Odette’s cheeks.

“I-I’m sorry.” She then curled down and whimpered, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Nacht shifted in discomfort. He now had no idea what to say to her, nor how to comfort her.

Claire froze on the spot. Morgen kneeled to Odette’s side to wipe her tears.

Odette had her eyes tightly shut. Her mind had recalled bitter memories. She waited to hear a disappointed roar. Or the pain that would come from a brutal blow.

But instead, what she felt was a hand lightly touching the top of her head.

It was Yami, who gave Odette a reassuring pat on her head. “Hey, take a breath. No one here is gonna hit you. So lay off the waterworks.”

Odette looked up at Yami. “You're not?” she croaked.

“You think we'd save you from your ass of an old man just to hit you like he does? Give us some credit. We're magic knights after all.”

“You're right. I'm sorry for crying.” She wiped her tears away, “I should be strong.”

“There's no shame in crying. You're still a kid. You just got to remind yourself that you have people that want to help you now. So don't be afraid of us.”

Odette nodded, “Kay.”

“Everything’s going to be fine.”

Sister Margaret glared at Nacht with narrowed eyes. “Continue with the class.”

"I have a better idea,” Yami walked closer to the table he set up earlier. “Let’s all stop for lunch.”

The kids were released from all the tension when they saw Yami take out the contents of the basket.

The children ran over to him.

“Hey! Fall in line you little brats!” Yami called out, rice balls in hand. “Hey kid! I saw you cutting the line. Get back in line!” Yami scolded the kid and huffed back at him.

Sister Margaret sighed at the foreigner’s attitude but was grateful for his effort to keep the orphans in check.

Morgen sat beside Odette, they were both currently eating Yami’s riceballs. “Are you feeling better now?” Morgen took a closer look at Odette’s eyes. It was no longer puffed since she stopped crying.

Odette nodded while her mouth was still busy chewing. She took another bite of the riceball. The texture of the rice was perfect, and the fish filling was savory. It was delicious.

Morgen saw Claire talking to Nacht. But they were far away that he couldn’t hear what they were saying. Although he could see Claire’s disgruntled face and Nacht wearing a scowl. Morgen could only guess what they were discussing.

Yami silently sneaked behind Claire and shoved a piece of riceball straight to her mouth.

Claire faced Yami and he could swear he saw her eyes glow in anger.

Just like that, Claire went for Yami’s head as Nacht stood there confused at the turn of events.

The day went by so fast, and Sister Margaret knew they should return to the orphanage soon. The sun steadily sank its way down the horizon. Many were still enjoying their first time flying a broom. Some kids raced with each other. To which she cried out at them to be careful not to crash into anyone.

Morgen focused on flying with Odette as Nacht’s so-called tricks scared her from flying too high up.

Nacht was warned to stay away from the students or Sister Margaret would bind him with her Salt magic.

Claire flew with the kids, and she showed them tips on how to maneuver the broom.

This time, to prevent any accidents from happening again, Claire used a spell that stationed fireflies around them. Should any student accidentally fall off their broom, their designated firefly would catch them.

Some kids were in awe at the glowing fireflies that loomed around them. Others were fascinated by it and tried to catch it, but it would always slip out of their fingers.

“We should try this again next time. But we play a game on who could catch Claire’s fireflies the most,” Odette suggested.

“That is if she’ll let you catch them,” Morgen hummed, remembering how her firefly beat his own speed.

“It’s almost time to head back,” Sister Margaret said.

The kids frowned at that. They were having so much fun.

“Now, now. There’s always a next time,” Sister Margaret reassured.

When it was decidedly time to head home, Nacht opened his shadow portal again and brought the kids back to the orphanage.

Finally putting an end to today’s class, Morgen and Claire waved goodbyes to the children. Although exhausted from practice, the children called out and loudly thanked them.

As the Grey Deers plus Nacht left the orphanage, Odette chased after them.

“Don’t forget to teach me how you made those riceballs,” Odette reminded Yami.

“Sure thing,” Yami replied.

Nacht awkwardly stood behind Yami as he couldn’t bring himself to look at Odette after what he did.

Claire elbowed Nacht’s arm. They stared at each other, but it was Nacht who looked away first.

Nacht rubbed where she hit him and knew she wouldn’t let him off the hook.

“Uh- Odette? About what happened earlier…” Nacht had a hand at the back of his head. “Sorry about that,” he apologized.

Her eyes widened. She didn’t expect to hear that from him. “I’m sorry too. I fell off my broom because I wasn’t being careful.”

“You were doing great for your first time. Don’t let it get into you. And you were courageous to even attempt advanced broom techniques after seeing it from me once.”

Odette felt a creeping warmth in her cheeks. “Will you still teach me your broom tricks?” she asked.

“As long as there’s proper supervision,” Claire said. “We don’t want you breaking your neck.”

“Alright. Thank you for catching me earlier, big sis.”

Claire tensed, “That- Uh- I.... did it on reflex. Don’t scare us like that again. Okay?”

Odette nodded. “Thank you for helping me out, big brother,” she glanced at Morgen.

“I’m glad that you’re feeling better now. There’s no need for you to feel scared whenever you’re with us. Remember that.” Morgen bent down and gave Odette a warm hug.

Sister Margaret walked out and told Odette she should go back inside.

Odette nodded at Sister Margaret. “Bye!” She waved at her adoptive siblings.

They waved back after a promise of them returning to her again. Morgen looked like he hesitated to leave.

The group finally made their way back to their personal quarters. They felt the exhaustion sink in the moment they laid down their soft beds.

It might had been a great experience for all of them. But teaching kids was extremely tiring.

Meanwhile, back at the orphanage, Odette comfortably tucked herself in bed and recalled all the earlier events. Her sleep was filled with happy dreams.

[END]

#black clover oc #bc oc: claire polaris #bc oc: odette dumont #bc oc: Sister Margaret #black clover oc fanfic #morgen faust #nacht faust #yami sukehiro

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monster-mashed · 7 months

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BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!! BATTLE NUN WIP !!!

#my art i guess #art #procreate #digital art #dungeons and dungeons #my oc art #my ocs <3 #her name is sister margaret #d&d art #character art #wip wednesday #it’s not wednesday but whatever #it’s wednesday somewhere #yaknowhatimean #😏😏😏😏😏

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stars-and-the-min · 1 month

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☆ the wrong way to hard launch (1) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n hello, this is called welcome to part 1 of a fic no one will read :) also i have a taglist now (yay?) so shoot me a reply if ur interested in being added <3

masterlist | prologue | part 1 | next part

TWITTER

lina !!! @EB_selina · 2h omg my f1wags debut??? y'all i've really made it 🫶

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 2h us when our frontwoman decides to hard launch her relationship that we were scrambling to denounce: 🙂🔪🩷 ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h the EB Bar admin working overtime bc lina insists on stoking the flames of this ridiculous rumour ↳ lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 1h media literacy where? this is a fucking confirmation bestie

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by oscarpiastri and 103,273 others

selinabui me when i lie to myself and go date yet ANOTHER athlete 🤠👍 this one goes vroom vroom in expensive cars (p.s. dear news sites, pls stop using my old photos)

cameliazzz all that expensive media training chucked down the drain i see

eb_jonno the orange jumpscare holy shit lina it's like u hate him or smth ↳ selinabui @eb_jonno wdym he's very cute 🫶

landonorris Oh hello there ↳ oscarpiastri @ landonorris 😀 ↳ mclarwins @ landonorris OMFG LANDO WHAT ↳ selinabui @ landonorris bro why are you acting like we've never met or smth ↳ pi4str1 @ selinabui there's something about her that's so 😭

TWITTER

🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 5h ok i fear we need to start weighing up the pros and cons ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 5h pros: WE'RE FREE FROM AMERICANS, he's actually cute, we already follow f1 bc of guanyu, he's aussie <3 cons: white, he's another fucking athlete, orange ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@ linabelles · 4h 'free from americans' SO TRUE we were in the trenches with t*mmy

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h everything i find about this girl is just 😬 ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h oscar, get the FUCK away from that girl ↳ clovie @ luvyouvie · 2h omg why, what's up with her?? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 3h kinda the classic rockstar shit and her ex is tommy howard (nfl running back)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 18h SELINA WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS??? WHERE DID THIS ENERGY GO 😭😭😭

↳ emme @flowersforcami · 18h as smo with a footballer ex, the comment on massive egos is so true T_T

↳ Ryan Forrest @ryanforrest93 · 17h Every time that interview pops up on my TL, I just get reminded of how YOUNG she was going through all of that nonsense. She was barely 20 and totally being gaslit by that arsehole. ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17h ^^THIS!! yes!! it was crazy that ppl gave her so much shit about staying with tommy even after the cheating but it was her first real relationship and it fucked her up massively

INSTAGRAM

zhouguanyu24 Margaret Court Arena

liked by selinabui, oscarpiastri and 59,283 others

zhouguanyu24 Went to go check on the baby sister 💪

selinabui my personal photographer fr (good luck tmr 💚)

emptybottlesbar Always stoked to have family stop by for a listen! Best of luck on the track 💪 ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar he doesn't need luck. he needs his team to fix the pit stop problem. he needs divine intervention

zhouguanyu_br piastri is dating zhou's sister?? ↳ jemma.wren @zhouguanyu_br cousin actually, in chinese culture they refer to paternal cousins as just siblings

stakef1team Looking forward to seeing Lina in the garage ↳ selinabui @stakef1team oh lmao that's not happening 🥰 ↳ pastry81 @ selinabui IJBOL she said you ain't SHIT see you in the papaya garage

cameliazzz thanks for dropping by on ur race weekend <3 hope it was worth your while (and family-friendly 🤫) ↳ zhouguanyu24 @ cameliazzz Thank you for keeping her alive ↳ selinabui @ cameliazzz why has it taken you over 20 minutes to go get pizza 🤡 ↳ cameliazzz @ selinabui why are you asking in ur cousin's comments 🤡🤡🤡 (they need to cooka da pizza)

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

emme @flowersforcami · 34m walk with me here... if zhou went to friday's show, do you think oscar did as well? and if so... did they just watch empty bottles' almost 2 hours set of lina and kas flirting 😭 ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 22m i literally can't think of anything else now :) do you know what the encore song was? ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 21m kaslina duet of we don't talk anymore (og by charlie puth) ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 20m oh how do we even defend them

EB BAR @theemptybottlesbar · 1h whole team in shambles... @EB_selina we hope it was worth it

oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h every linami realising they need to defend her stage persona to piastri fans... ↳ oscalina real ?! @ emptyginbottles · 1h WE SWEAR ON OUR HONOUR THAT THIS GIRL IS A TOTAL LOOOOOSER. SHE'S NOTHING LIKE WHAT THE MEDIA WRITES HER AS. HER ONE HOBBY IS SUDOKU. SHES A COMPLETE DOORMAT 😭😭 ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 1h ok well, hang on... i think they get the point

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 5h after a literal night of deep-diving, i take back everything i've ever said about selina bui bc she's such a cutie honestly i get it, i kinda want her now

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri

liked by cameliazzz and 113,292 others

oscarpiastri Finally got the green light to 'hard launch'

selinabui sorry i needed to be vetted so hard :/

logansargeant Oh so we're keeping secrets from each other now #fakefriend ↳ oscarpiastri @ logansargeant Sorry, did i forget the bit when you were there when we met or something 🙂

2cami4lina oh she let him in the studio, we're fucking done for

ausgp Some extra Aussie luck for the home race ↳ pi4str1 @ ausgp she's australian??? ↳ emptybottlos @pi4str1 do a simple google search first - the whole band is australian 🤡 they all grew up in sydney

piastri_lina but wait, the way i lowk manifested this... ↳ emptyb-aid @piastri_lina lock ur doors i fear i'm coming for you

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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thebluestbluewords · 3 months

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Auradon Campus Gossip:

Audrey and Chad are very funny, but ADULTS??

I will be taking these teacher names and running, thank you very much. They’re my OCs now and I will not be stopped.

Horace the Librarian

The cool librarian. Probably the one who started Doug’s enduring idea that bow ties look cool and suave. His color scheme is blue and red, just so he stands out from the students a bit.

Auradon Prep definitely has two libraries, the regular working library, and the research library. Horace works in the research library, helping the older students with their junior and senior projects.

Horace is the best librarian to talk to if you’re struggling with college essays. He’s able to tease a personal statement out of even the most shy students, and he’ll make you feel good about yourself as he’s doing it. He genuinely believes that every single person has a story worth telling, so long as you can frame it the right way. After all, he’s just the son of a bookseller from a quiet village, and look at where he is now.

Judy the Guidance Counselor

Judy genuinely loves her job. She’s here for the guidance, but also for the gossip. She loves working with troublemaker students, because they’re the most fun to work with and she gets to actually help them out.

She tries very hard to be hip with the kids. Judy uses all the slang she’s heard from students, and is totally tubular and hip to the jive of the youth trends. She’s on-trend and bussin.

She wears exclusively pantsuits, because again, she’s young and cool and wears pants instead of skirts. She thinks this will keep her cool in the eyes of the students. Her favorite one is a brown courdroy suit with a matching floral scarf, very vintage Auroria-style.

Abigail the Biology Teacher

She specialized in marine biology in college! Her main research is actually on invasive fish populations in the reefs around Atlantica. She would love to get her hands on the reefs within the Isle of the Lost barrier, but she’s not sure how to balance such an important research topic with her teaching career.

She’s very invested in independent learning. Every year she has her freshmen do a research project on a native species that has personal significance to them, and she keeps a tracking sheet of what all her students choose each year.

An astrology gal to her core, Abigail will detail class to talk about her horoscope if you can time it right. The sophomore bio II class takes the most advantage of this. They’ve made a class theme song for Astrology Moments with Abigail.

Margaret the Philosophy Teacher

Margaret started her career as a castle chaplain, and only switched to teaching after her nieces started asking her more and more philosophical questions. Yes, she is the sort of teacher who will engage in a scholarly debate with a five year old. Her high school students are nothing compared to her sister’s toddlers.

Philosophy isn’t exactly a popular elective at Auradon Prep, so Margaret has a lot of time between classes where she engages in personal research. She’s currently writing a book about the afterlife, and she’s written several well-reviewed scholarly papers about the philosophical implications of children’s internal narratives.

She also acts as a dorm monitor for the junior and senior girl’s dorms. She hosts the best late-night study events, and most of her students genuinely like her as a dorm monitor, even though part of her job is patrolling the halls during lights-out and breaking up their illegal room parties.

#descendants #I will be adding these teachers to my OC roster because I think I’m funny

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deepperplexity · 5 months

Text

Prompt: 10. Snow Prints

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Setting: Christmas Market in Town -> The Lake -> Dashwood Home (Not exactly following cannon, moving the time to winter and the manner Brandon visits the Dashwoods for the first time.)

A/N: I thought we’d take a little tiny break from the serial fics - I do feel I need a breath as it takes way more to write several serials at the same time than one shots (for me) 😂 Also, Brandon seems to be very loved this year, so thought I’d give him some more screen time so to say 🥰

I have perhaps spent too much time on this fic but it ended up flowing and turning into this 5k piece - anyway, I really hope you’ll have a splendid time reading this! We are nearing the middle of Rickmas2023 and I feel good about having been able to post at a decent time every day so far 😍👏 (Let’s hope I can keep it up all the way through 👀😂)

Tags/TW’s: Instant Infatuation, Forehead Kisses, Hand Holding, Accidental Meeting, Unintentional Invasion Of Emotional Privacy, Self Derogatory Thoughts, Classicism, Nicknames, Mutual Pining, Confessions Of Adoration/Love, Implied Future Marriage, Slighty Sassy OC, Chivalry, Poverty Hints,

Word Count: 5k+

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Mrs Jennings laughed by a market stand down the busy street, Margaret squeezed my hand and I could not quite keep a smile from spreading across my lips as she giggled up at me. “She never stops, does she?” Margaret asked with that childlike twinkle in her eye. “I’m afraid not, Maggie,” I chuckled. “She means well, but I do think Miss Markle is quite over her matchmaking attempts, as most of us are.” “Well, you are free of it,” Margaret said with happiness, not knowing the knife it twisted within me. “Indeed, lucky me,” I said as happily as I could. Knowing full well she held little interest of pairing lowly me with anyone at all.

I was an orphan, a mere child-tender for the Dashwoods before Mr Dashwood passed and left the family in ruin - in every manner. Now I was a burden on the kind family, allowed to live with them and dine after them in exchange for not only taking care of Margaret but cleaning and tending to every manner of household chore whenever needed, teaching the child to read and write, to interpret texts as well. No pay given, but a roof over my head and food in my stomach. It was more than I could ask for given the circumstances.

“Mellie,” Mrs Dashwood called, “go buy us some mistletoes and meet us at home!” “Right away, ma’am!” I called back, squeezing Margaret’s hand before ushering her toward one of her older sisters. I trodded off, heading down the market street with vendors filling the space and air with shouts of prices and smells of Christmas. I weaved through the crowd, well-versed in not being in the way.

I found the right vendor and purchased the holly for the Dashwoods, laying them atop the bread and carrots in my basket before turning about. My eyes caught sight of a brilliantly red coat with black and golden details. It stood out in the throng of greys, browns, whites and beige clothes, none as brightly coloured — not even the greens and blues, all in muted saturation. A man of the military? My eyes slid upward only for my breath to catch. He was stunning in profile. Older, with slightly peculiar features — like his hooked nose and thin lips — but more handsome than any other man I had ever laid eyes upon. His grave features and remote manner of looking only made his features shine brighter in the afternoon sun which made the snow glisten on the rooftops.

I stood stock still in the middle of the street, a messenger boy ran right into me, knocking my basket out of my hand — breaking the spell I had been under by the man. I hurried to pick up the greenery, the cloth-wrapped bread, and frost-bit carrots, before scurrying away, throwing one final glance back before entering one of many narrow alleys. His eyes appeared to see me for a second before I turned and hurried away from the market. No matter how handsome the man was, or how my heart had stuttered at his appearance, he was no man for me. I was all too aware of it.

I held on tightly to the basket, the day was beautiful and with the bright sun and lack of wind I managed to keep warm. I sped up my steps as I cleared the town’s border, crossing over a field to take a shortcut through the woods beyond; then it would only be a matter of two more fields to cross, a small hill to hike up, and I would be home once more. I didn’t mind walking through the snow, the boots Mrs Jennings had given me upon winters arrival were far too big but allowed for three pairs of socks which kept me plenty warm as long as I moved about. I was thankful for her gift, even if it were only for them being too small for her but too big for anyone else to wear, and with their shafts reaching nearly to my knees no snow slunk within them even if I pulsed through it at the moment.

I reached the woods, feeling a need to look back toward the town where I had seen the handsome man I was sure to never see again. Even if no man ever finds me to his liking I can at the very least allow the oddity of daydreaming of it to keep me happy, should I not have at least that? I squinted against the direct sunlight as it sank, bathing the sky in orange and pink only making the glittering snow look further magical with the twinkling light of lanterns and candles coming from the town. “A military man, perhaps that would be a grand life.” Not that I shall ever know it for real.

I half giggled to myself, enjoying my little daydream where the man in red would smile sweetly at me and marvelled at the quietly spectacular view. It was interrupted when something came barrelling across the field, someone atop a horse riding at the utmost speed with snow spraying about them yet I could not see any details with the last bit of sun glaring me in the eye and turning them into nothing but a shadow.

I thought little of it, many cut across the field to return home, so I turned and kept walking while wondering what voice would belong to the man in red — a commanding one, an assured one, a powerful one. I could not imagine a man who looked like he had to speak in any meek or bright fashion. No, no a most strong voice ought to belong to such a gentleman.

“Miss!” I spun around in haste at the dark rumble of a call that was somehow heard so clearly. “Miss!” the man called again and I raised a hand to cover my eyes from the sun. My heart stuttered as the man in red came barrelling towards me, his giant black steed’s hooves made the snow spray in magical waves of sparkles all around him.

He halted the horse with great skill, going from a gallop to a near-complete halt in a mere two steps. “Miss,” he said again, his voice a rumble which seemed to shake my insides. “Y-yes?” I asked, bowing my head while curtsying deeply. The thud of feet hitting the snow-covered ground rang out and I looked up. He was a head taller than me, his shoulders stiffly held and his back utterly straight. He looked every bit a stoic gentleman as he inclined his head before reaching out his hand, holding a mistletoe.

“Sir, I— What is this?” I asked while looking between the man who made my heart run rampant and the greenery in his glove-clad hand. “You left this behind, miss.” “Oh… oh!” I rummaged around my basket and indeed, there were only seven when there ought to have been eight of them. “Thank you, sir. I apologize for the trouble you went through for such a small thing.” My cheeks nearly seemed to burn as he handed it over while I spoke and then secured the mistletoe under the towel covering the basket.

The man looked at me, his eyes sweet but his features stoic. “It was no bother, miss. I merely followed the snow prints.” But, I left none behind until I reached the field? “I’m grateful for your kindness and effort, sir.” “Colonel Brandon, miss. At your service,” he said and placed his closed fist atop his chest before bowing slightly. “Melinda Merryweather,” I replied, endeavouring to keep my cheeks from burning up under his stare. “Beautiful Honeybee,” he said in a quiet drone and my eyes widened. “Excuse me, sir?” “Oh, no, miss, your name. Melinda, of Latin origin, meaning sweet. Constructed of mel, meaning honeybee, and Linda, meaning beautiful.”

I was not proud of it, but I gawked at the man. He knew more about my name than me myself. I had been aware of the Latin origin but the meaning of it had never been told to me. “My mother did have a fondness for the buzzing creatures, they fill an important role after all.” “Indeed,” the man said, “there would be little in terms of flowers without them.” “Oh, I was referring to food, Colonel Brandon. Flowers are pretty though.” “Their honey?” “No, they pollinate far more than flowers,” I continued, the education I had been given as a child tender to the Dashwoods far beyond any I would have had in another situation. “You are a woman of education.” “Oh, no, sir. I have merely been most lucky as a tender of children for the lovely Dashwood family.”

I did my utmost to speak calmly, but my entire body seemed caught on fire, the flames growing stronger with each second in his company. Talking is not my issue, remaining silent is. I’m certain he sees me as a know-it-all by now. “Luck plays a grand part in life. I admit, it has not been so graceful to me until now.” “Oh? You appear a most lucky man, sir.” “I shall not ruin said image of me for you, Miss Melinda Merryweather.” What to say to such a statement?

I had no need to think of it though, the man bowed and mounted his steed once more. My heart skipped a beat as he turned the horse about. “Thank you again, Colonel Brandon,” I said and he smiled at me, my skin burned and my breath caught as the last sunlight left the world but it seemed all the brighter when he smiled. “I wish you the best, beautiful honeybee,” he said with a sudden softness to his features and put his horse into motion, setting off in a rushed gallop without looking back once while my heart seemed to race at the same pace as the black horse.

Never had I met a man such as him. He was different, in the most sweet and good manner. I ended up watching him gallop back to town, I simply couldn’t make myself leave before he was gone. Strange sensations filled my chest and the heavy basket in my hand suddenly felt light in comparison to the weight of the newness, or, perhaps it was the knowledge a man such as him were not meant for me. For someone like me. A colonel had little business with a child tender turned into some form of a maid and teacher of reading and writing out of the goodness of my employer of many years. As much as warmth for the man bloomed within me, a sense of hopeless longing grew as well.

***

“I’ll only be an hour!” I called toward the little sitting room where Marianne and Elinor sat, one embroidering and one playing on the forte, while I slipped my boots over the many layers of socks I had adorned. I loved Marianne’s music, and voice, not blessed with either skill myself. Books, poetry, and stories lay me far closer to the heart though.

Reading, writing, and weaving stories of my own were my pleasures. My loves. And the past week my poetry had turned longing and somewhat sappy, to be truthful. I needed a moment with nature, to take a breath and rid my heart and mind of the grand colonel who called me a beautiful honeybee before riding off in a swirl of snow.

I wrapped a second scarf over my shoulders and headed out, the weather was splendid but cold. The midday sun had the world in a sparkle, a winter wonderland to adore and enjoy. I took a deep breath of fresh air and set off down the hidden road few carriages traversed. I followed it down the hill and then began my trodding across the field to reach the ice-covered lake where I was sure the most wonderful view where to be seen.

I had no idea how right I was…

As I came over the little hill, a wonderful view indeed sprawled out before me. But nothing could compare to the man standing right by the edge of the snow-covered beach, holding the reins of his large steed in a loose grip. With the sun shining high I could see him most perfectly, even if he wore no red coat I would have known his posture anywhere. The air about him was that of a single kind. I had spent so many words on the man, writing poetry to expel the feelings I had endeavoured to suppress ever since I had managed to tear myself away from the edge of the forest where I had last seen him galloping away in haste.

I stood still, once more stuck looking at the man from a distance without him being aware, and I felt as if all the feelings I had sought to tamper down and rid myself of through poetry took over completely. Let loose by his appearance where I least expected him. Oh, this is not proper! This is lunacy of the acutest kind. The man is a colonel, for goodness sake. I was about to turn around, play the coward, and run away while my heart ran rampant. “Honeybee!” came the loud rumble of the colonel, stopping me in my tracks (not that I’d begun to actually move).

The sound of boots and hooves walking through snow filled the air as he neared. My mind blanked when his soft gaze landed on me and a small smile spread his lips most sweetly. “Colonel Brandon,” I said and curtsied while hiding my bare hands behind my back. A bit embarrassed I had no gloves to speak of when he wore such fine ones of leather. “What a wonderful surprise,” he said. “What brings you to the lake, miss?” “Oh, umh, well, I was merely out for a walk to— To clear my head a bit, colonel.” “Perhaps a coincidence, I am here for that exact reason. What troubles you, if I may enquire?” You . Not that I could ever admit to such a thing.

“My troubles could not possibly be of any importance to a colonel, sir Brandon.” “I would take great pride in absolving you of any trouble, honeybee.” His voice was honest, his gaze a bit harsher and his voice once more a line rather than a smile, and that nickname set my stomach into an absolute flutter. “Do not tease me, sir.” “Never,” he said while taking a step closer. “I am not a man who would trifle with a beautiful woman,” he continued, taking another step. He was almost too close, yet not close enough.

My fingers fidgeted behind my back, the ends of my scarf swaying lightly in the soft breeze. A gust of wind blew by and my scarf flew off, tumbling along the snow in soft waves. He was off after it before I had a chance to even react. “Colonel!” I called, feeling like a nuisance to the man. “Colonel! Stop! It’s my—” He bent and snagged the thin fabric, holding it up with the sweetest of triumphant smiles before he jogged back. My icy fingers covered my mouth to hide the giggle, or perhaps to cool the heat flushing my face.

“My lady,” he said with a slight bow while holding out my scarf for me. I suffocated the laughter bubbling within me at his theatrics and reached for it. He jolted and grabbed my hand before I could pull away. “No gloves? In this chill?” he asked, concern written all over his handsome face while mine contorted with shame and embarrassment. “Thank you,” I said and wrung my hand free. “For catching it, sir.” I draped it over my shoulders once more but he only tilted his head to study me closer.

“I ought to return,” I said after a moment of silence, a silence far too intense. “They are expecting me at home,” I continued and curtsied swiftly before turning on my heel. “Miss Melinda,” he called, “stay safe!” “I shall, Colonel. I’m quite capable!” I called over my shoulder before waving at him, picking up my pace while leaving deep prints behind which I knew he would not follow this time.

***

It was the tenth of December, another week had passed since I saw the colonel and my little notebook was by now full of poems all revolving around him, around what he made me feel and wished to expel. My silly little heart had no wits about her, my mind just as snagged on his handsomeness — his kindness a lingering torment when there was no world in which I could be anything to such a fine gentleman.

“Mellie,” Margaret whined, “you’ve been writing for hours!” “Huh? Oh, have I really?” “Yes!” she said with a certain oomph to her voice. I merely smiled at her, mustering up the courage to not show her anything at all. “Is there a reason I ought to stop for the moment?” I asked as she leaned on the desk where I had, indeed, been sitting for several hours as lunchtime had arrived. “Mama asked you to fetch a bird for dinner, it’ll be dark if you don’t go soon.” “Oh, oh right! Yes, of course,” I said while shutting my little notebook and standing. “I’ll head out right away.” “But it’s lunchtime, silly goose.” “Well, there will be no goose of any kind, or other bird, if I don’t get a move on, will there?” “I’ll make a sandwich for you,” she said and scurried off with the usual happy spring to her steps. “With cheese and peppers, how you like it!” she called over her shoulder and I smiled at her sweetness.

I was out of the house a few moments later, hurrying towards town once again to get a bird for the family for the evening. Given how cold it was, one could have bought several and just had them in a box outside - they’d keep for weeks if the weather remained. But, again, I was not one to complain about some walking. I was rather fond of being out like that, truth be told. Truth be told, huh? More like give me something to take my mind of the man in a red coat, with a sweet smile, and soft eyes, and— Stop. Just, do not think of him. Simple as that. It was not , however, simple as that.

All the way to town, then through it, and back home again, I thought of the man. When I went down the hill to the house he was really the only thing I thought of at all. The fact I managed to keep my wits about me enough to see snow prints of male shoes unlike any other prints was a miracle. As the Dashwoods had company, obviously of the male kind, I walked around back and took the small servant entrance almost straight into the kitchen.

“Cook, here, I found a fantastic goose for dinner. It’s missing half a wing but the butcher gave me a great price for it.” “My, my, my, that is a good bird,” Cook replied as I held the naked goose up. Plucked and ready for cooking. She grabbed it and my cold fingers flexed with an ache to them. The thing was heavy and with the evening chill I struggled to get my blood flowing again for a moment while undressing my outside clothes only to put on a new scarf over my shoulders and thicker slippers on my feet rather than the boots and tripple socks.

“Here,” Cook said and handed me a tray of tee with some biscuits on a plate. Four cups on it, but it was the pretty china so the fourth one certainly wasn’t for me and Margaret didn’t drink tea. “Who’s visiting?” I asked. “Oh, some upstanding man, the boring type if you ask me. Tense looking. Too old for any of the Dashwoods too, no idea why the lady entertains him for so long.” “Long?” “He’s been ‘ere since one, came right after lunchtime.” “Well, perhaps he fancies one of them, or one of them fancies him. Is he rich?” “Very much so, Mellie.” “Well, there you have it then, Mrs Dashwood couldn’t send a rich man away — no matter his looks or age when she has two daughters she needs to wed.” “Indeed, but we both know the lady cares too much about what her daughters want to ever force a marriage.” “True, maybe she can force a marriage with a rich man upon me?” I laughed, both cook and I perfectly aware I wished for no such thing and nor would it ever happen either. No, love would be my biggest reason for marriage — riches were good, but love far outweighed it in every way.

As I came closer to the parlour I heard Marianne speak, asking whoever was visiting to read another. I didn’t know what she referred to but I gently pushed open the door, not making a sound as I backed in to not wobble the tray. “Snow prints—” My heart stopped in my chest. “—were followed, a path—” My fingers trembled. “—he ought not have taken. She was below—” The tray clattered to the floor, the china breaking and shards scattering all over the floor as I heard Colonel Brandon read my poetry, about him !

“Mellie, goodness me, are you alright?” said Mrs Dashwood with a shriek. I slowly turned, seeing the man who I had written those words for staring at me with wide eyes and slightly parted lips, Marianne sat far too close to him. He was a captivating reader, I could not fault her for her investment, yet my heart ached at the sight of the two.

“I— That’s—” “I gave it to him,” Margaret said with a beaming smile. “You write so well, Mellie!” she kept going and Colonel Brandon looked between me and the notebook containing my most inner thoughts in his hands. His eyes turned wider, his face paled and I felt my insides twist as he stared at me again.

Tears stung my eyes, the shame and embarrassment, the hurt and fear, the ache in my chest at the betrayal of the child I thought so highly of. “Excuse me,” I blurted out before bolting out the door, not staying to clean up the mess. “Mellie!” called Mrs Dashwood. “Mellie, what—” called Marianne with confusion in her tone but I was out of earshot for her sweet, clear voice. Such a contrast to the Colonel’s, so perfectly matched.

I ran out through the kitchen entrance, past Cook who prepared the infernal bird, and out into the snow lit up by the climbing moon as early evening had arrived. “Honeybee!” came the voice I dreaded to hear. “Stop, please!” he called and I stopped, my hand on the gate at the end of the backyard and my slipper-clad feet deeply buried in the white coldness below.

His running steps reached me, and the crunching of snow and slightly panted breaths filled my ears. Warmth wrapped around my shoulders as he hung his coat over me and I spun around in shock at the action. He was stood in only his vest and shirt, the biting wind tossed about his beautiful hair but all I really saw were the sweet, kind eyes staring at me.

“I never knew,” he said quietly while taking a step back. “Knew what?” I asked, attempting to not inhale deeply as his scent wafted up my nose. The perfect scent, the warmest and most comforting of scents. “That is was your beautiful poetry I was reading, the child gave it to me, asked for me to read something out of it. I thought it belonged to one of the ladies present in the room — and they did not object,” he said while looking most forlorn, nearly distressed. “I was not even aware you resided with the Dashwood household.” “I have for many years,” I said. “Marianne will be a perfect match for you,” I continued while thinking of their voices, the way she sat right beside him on the sofa.

Colonel Brandon stepped closer. “I have already found my match,” he said. “I asked you not to tease me, sir. And you said not to be a gentlemen who trifled with women.” “And I have not,” he said, his eyes hardening while coming far too close, forcing me to look up at him. It was all in my head… Only in my heart, not his. Perhaps, perhaps he is merely a most kind man? I have little experience with those.

“Honeybee,” he said, snagging my attention anew. “I have not, and will not, trifle with you, tease you. I am too old for games and life far too dark as is for me to make it any worse.” “Sir!” “I speak true,” he declared. “A gentleman such as you ought to be more aware of your own handsomeness.” He blanched at that, blinking at me before a timid smile stretched his lips in a manner that looked as if he were unable to control it.

“You find me handsome?” “What woman in their right mind would not?” “Oh, I do believe you may be a woman of singular taste, honeybee.” I gasped, gaping at him. “I beg your pardon? Are you accusing me of something?” “I am not a favourable option for most beautiful women, such as yourself. I am well aware of it. My riches perhaps an aid in seeing past it, or my standing in society.” I gasped anew, a mixture of an exhale and a laugh of disbelief.

“You are terrible, sir. You may wish to know I had no idea who you were until you introduced yourself, even then, I am new to this part of the county and have had little to do with the upstanding citize n so I am not aware of your riches. I do recognize the bravery and skill you possess to climb up the ranks, but any silly nilly knows such things,” I said with both hurt and irritation at the man who twisted my insides with warmth and want. “I apologize, miss,” he said, his face held in some sort of shame at the assumption he’d held of me perhaps. “No need, I am but a servant of no importance or value.” “What a foul thing to say…” “Truth is sometimes.”

Time stretched on while we stood in silence, simply looking at each other. “Miss Melinda, your poetry,” he began while looking at me with something I could only describe as respect, perhaps even admiration, “it is most beautiful, passionate, deep .” The change of subject threw me for a loop, a man such as him ought to hold no admiration of any kind for a woman such as I. “Like your voice,” I whispered before I could stop myself. I had thought of hearing my words in his voice, there was no way not to when his voice was such perfection. He chuckled. “My voice is to your liking?” “Everything about you is to my liking, as far as I’m aware. Sir .” I couldn’t help the sass, or the way my face had hardened while my insides were in an uproar over the man. I had to protect myself from the rejection that was sure to come despite his sweet words. It was only a matter of time, surely.

Yet, it did not.

His hands cupped my face, the gesture most intimate and highly improper. “If you are ever made aware of a trait of mine that is not to your liking, I will be very much obliged to correct it, to your liking, honeybee.” “W-What do you mean?” I asked, my breath tumbling out in a shuttering way. “Would you object to me?” My eyes widened while his finger stroked my cheek. “Object to you? Sir?” “I am beyond happy I caught a glimpse of you, heard the vendor call for you about the holly, and found your prints at the edge of town. I rode around quite manically to find you, you know. Following those snow prints, it was the best decision I have ever made.” “Colonel… Stop, we cannot, it’s not proper.” “Propriety can take flight and be on its merry way, honeybee. I have my heart set on you, my beautiful honeybee who writes the most captivating of poetry and smiles with nothing but honesty in her eyes. I have my heart set on you, Melinda Merryweather.” “It was about you…” I whispered while my skin burned under his touch. “Me?” “Yes… For weeks now, I’ve tried all I can to rid myself of these feelings and thoughts…”

Brandon viewed me with a mixture of torment and joy, I chuckled nervously while he released my face and grasped my hands. His coat slid off my shoulders as he tugged me closer — gently — and the cold December air wrapped itself around me. “Would you allow said feelings to grow? Fester? Become an irrevocable part of you?” “Colonel…” “I am already lost to you, honeybee. Allow me the chance to make you happy,” he asked kindly, his hummingly dark voice nothing but an endless promise of said happiness. “Yes. Yes, please,” I whispered as tears of relief and joy wetted my cheeks. “Honeybee… Beautiful Melinda… My Melinda,” he said before he leaned in and kissed my forehead with force, his thin lips perfectly warm against my chilled skin. “You shall not regret this, I promise you my all.”

We leaned back, my heart was aflutter and my stomach a warm ball of knots, and I could not help but smile at the sweet gentleman who had captivated my heart so easily. “I fear any regret I may have will be only a reflection of your own, Colonel.” “Christopher,” he corrected. “My name, is Christopher, honeybee.” “Christopher.” “How sweet a sound you make it. I shall wish to hear it every day for the rest of my life.” I only nodded at that, too stunned to speak when he so brazenly declared I was to be his for all time to come. I held no objections to that as his hands squeezed mine with warmth, his kind eyes a balm to my soul and his smile a thing of beauty far beyond the sparkling snow all around us…

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: Oh how I hope you enjoyed this One Shot with our dear Brandon 🥰 I had so much fun writing this, and it did indeed turn out to be far longer than I had planned but I enjoyed each word I wrote of this 😍👏

IMPORTANT: Tomorrow I’ll be picking up a story from Rickmas2022! You do not have to read it before reading this years parts, but I do recommend it to get the full story. I will do a small recap before diving into the new parts too. The fics I will be continuing is 14. Icy Roads & 15. Frosty Glass (yes, it’s Hans and Anna-Louisa who are making a comback by super popular demand 😂👏). I've yet to start writing it but, well, guess it'll be a late night today 👀👍

Q: You can only choose one hot drink to consume during December: Coffee, Tea, or Hot chocolate? A: COFFEEEEEEEE all the way for me 😂☕

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @mamawolfsmith16 @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @sunset90 @mamawolfsmith87 @snowblossomreads @ladykardasi @a-queen-and-her-throne @eternal-silvertongued-prince @lyrixsnape @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @daddythanatos

Want to be tagged? 💚 You can tag yourself HERE! Or tell me and I’ll gladly tag you! 😍

[Dec:2023]

#rickmas2023 #rickmas #colonel brandon x oc #colonel brandon fic #colonel brandon #alan rickman #rickmaniac #sense and sensibility 1995

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endless-oc-creations · 8 days

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Mimi's Endless Ocs

↳Re-Introducing Marvel Oc: Robyn Hammer Series: The Merc and The Knight

Summary: Robyn works alongside her brother at Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children. She's busy ensuring things run as smoothly as they can and supplies are in stock. Just a normal life for a mercenary and weapons dealer.

Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children was a bar, but also a place where mercenaries accept and cash in on private jobs, this life was normal for her at least. It was a place run by Robyn and her brother Weasel. Over the years, Robyn has met a lot of fun and fascinating people but no one was more fascinating than Wade Wilson.

From the start Wade and Robyn had hit it off, even referring to each other as husband and wife as their nicknames and banter with each other. The two quickly began a friends-with-benefits and maybe something more relationship.

Then, Wade met the one and only Vanessa Carlysle, an escort and friend/occasional fling of Robyn's. The two hit it off instantly and began their relationship with each other.

Robyn was happy for them, those two were honestly the only closest friends Robyn had ever had. But, she also couldn't help but feel lonely and lost since she had grown feelings for both of them.

However, not long after Vanessa and Wade got together as an official couple, they decided to ask Robyn to be with them two. Since they both loved her as well. Robyn was more than happy to say yes.

The three then enjoyed each other's company and only grew closer. Everything was great, Robyn felt like she could finally be happy. But then everything changed when one day Wade fainted and they all found out that he was diagnosed with cancer. He was dying.

Everything was turned upside down, Robyn did her best to support both her lovers while trying to accept the fact that Wade would most likely die.

Then one night Wade disappeared, seemingly without a trace. Robyn saw firsthand how devastated Vanessa became. She then found out from her brother about a Grim Reaper type of character wanting to recruit Wade for something.

Robyn became worried about Wade's safety and wanting to help get Vanessa to truly smile and be happy again she decided to do something extreme.

She would use her skills as a mercenary and go deep undercover, becoming an anti-hero known as The Black Knight. But as the years ran on, Robyn figured that at this point it was most likely that Wade was dead. His cancer was already terminal by the time he left, so after a few years and adding onto the fact he left with sketchy people, Robyn would never see him again.

So, Robyn decided to hide her recent activities from Vanessa, even though her lover could see that she was coming home with more cuts and bruises, and continue on the search for the people whom Wade left with and find out what they did to him.

Robyn was determined to find these people and make them talk, so she was going to take out whoever she needed to that stood in her way. One of those people who constantly got in her way, killing most of the people she was after, was another mercenary wearing a red suit that reminded her entirely of Wade. But it couldn't be him though...could it?

💕 Everything Taglist: @bravelittleflower @sunlitscribe @eddysocs @decennia @hiddenqveendom

@aaronhotchstuff @foxesandmagic @booty-boggins @asirensrage @connietheecunning

@lucys-chen @arrthurpendragon @daughter-of-melpomene @thatmagickjuju @ginevrastilinski 💕

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year

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Shannon & Bea + dinner

love you so much I'll write babea au for u

The bedsheets have been worn rough with repeated washings, but they're still a comfort to Shannon. It's what she deserves, that abrasion against her skin, pulling and catching, a friction that keeps her awake long into the night even with the painkillers dulling her nerves.

It's worse now that Mary's been called back to Cat's Cradle, now that Shannon's been left to wonder if this is the very sickroom Suzanne had convalesced in all those years before, when she'd left the Cradle broken and returned hard and cold as ice. It shouldn't be much longer, the sisters tell her, the younger faces among them painfully familiar, the elder few and far between. She feels just as much a remnant as they must, these women used up by the OCS and then cast aside when they had nothing left to give but their lives, when their fingers could no longer grip a hilt or pull a trigger, when the slightest sound sent them ducking for cover.

Sister Rachel, glimpsed briefly in the haze of those first few days when Shannon had yo-yoed in and out of consciousness, who'd almost lost a leg to compartment syndrome during Shannon's first month with the Order. Sister Anne, who'd screamed herself and everyone along her hallway into wakefulness night after night until being whisked away early one morning. Sister Margaret, her lumbar spine crushed beneath the rubble of a collapsing building. The cast-offs of decades of Order work, squirrelled away in a convent near Madrid. And for what?

A knock stirs Shannon from her reverie, and she lifts a heavy hand to wave them in, barely wincing any longer at the drag of muscle against the half-healed wound in her back. A familiar smell accompanies a familiar tread, and her teeth grind together as her jaw tightens.

She forces her muscles to relax, twists her mouth into a mockery of a smile. It's still Beatrice, no matter the– It's still– "Hey, Bea," she manages finally, before the dregs of the smile slide right back off of her face.

"Shannon." Her voice is stiff. Formal. It's an uncomfortable task, Shannon recalls in vivid detail, to put yourself face to face with a woman who failed to carry the burden you now found placed on your own shoulders. But Shannon had never quite taken to it with the alacrity Mary had said Beatrice has shown. "I brought dinner."

"Thought I smelled Mary's cooking." She props herself up on an elbow as Beatrice rounds the bed. Beatrice busies herself unpacking containers from her tote bag, and Shannon takes the opportunity to take stock of her.

It's the first she's seen her since the mission, since she'd taken one look at the hell they were about to step into and turned to handcuff Beatrice in the back of the van without a moment's hesitation before diving into the fray. There's a rigidity to her posture that hadn't been there before, steel replacing that whipcord looseness that she'd come to associate with Beatrice, the way she'd grown into draping herself easily across every surface, into perching readily on chair backs and countertops. This Beatrice sits stiffly in the ladder-backed chair she drags to the bedside, her shoulders drawn back as though to shield the Halo in the concavities of her scapulae.

There's a curl to her lip when she forces her gaze to meet Shannon's, and the hint of the tip of her tongue pressing at the corner of her mouth is the only thing in her that still feels wholly Bea.

"I'd have thought you'd be on assignment with Mary," Shannon ventures after the silence has stretched thin between them.

"Father Vincent sent her on a solo run up north to meet a contact who's not exactly fond of the Church."

Shannon's blood runs cold and she starts up with such rapidity that Beatrice shoves her chair back a foot. There's warmth slipping down her back, skin torn apart by the abruptness of the movement, but she doesn't pay it any heed. Can't. Not when– "Was she sent on his orders alone?"

Beatrice's brows arch. "I wasn't aware that was something I needed to keep track of."

"It's not–" Shannon presses the heel of her palm to her forehead, tries desperately to piece together a way to present this that doesn't sound like she's– But maybe she is losing her mind. Maybe her loss of the Halo is just further testament to that. How else is she meant to explain the dreams, the visions, the reality in which she's found herself. "Don't trust him, Beatrice," she says finally, desperately. "Please."

"Don't trust Vincent?" Beatrice's laugh is harsh, cuts straight to the bone. "How am I meant to trust you, Shannon?" There's an edge of warning to her voice. "In what world do you deserve to have any more say about who I put my trust in? You betrayed me, you betrayed the Order, and you betrayed the Halo. No wonder it rejected you."

"Beatrice–"

She rises sharply, tips her head towards the door. "I will be back in half an hour for the dishes. Have a good meal." Beatrice strides from the room, leaving Shannon reeling in her wake.

#ask #smokestarrules #warrior nun #myfic #mywn #sister beatrice #shannon masters #babea au

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fireinthefireproofvault · 21 days

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@w-a-l-t-e-r @little-bunny-in-space here we go, I finally made them 😁 these are my M*A*S*H OCs in the style of my favorite picrew.

This is Alexandra “Al” Patterson. She hates to be called by her full name out and about, jokingly adding “Call me Alexandra in bed” when she chastises people about it. She used to go out boating a lot in the Narraganset Bay back in her and her sister’s Rhode Island home, and her boyfriend of sorts (she acts a lot more fine about the breakup than she cares to admit, playing it off as a sort of friendship with benefits but deep down she viewed it as a relationship and he was just having fun) Stan would take her out and go fishing too. Enjoying life’s pleasures, Al is the more forward sister, clever with her words and easily able to keep up with characters like Klinger, BJ, and Hawkeye, who she has an initial attraction to but her sister warns about her getting involved with (Does she listen? No. Are the consequences as bad as her sister thinks? Maybe I should write a fic to put this all in 😂). For all her seemingly carefree and light ways Al is a very skilled nurse who isn’t afraid to think outside of the box or take charge- she’s the one you wanna call to hold a fighter down! Hawkeye and BJ prefer working with her along with some of the others, teasing Margaret that she’s a lot like her but with a softer touch!

Abigail Patterson, unlike her older sister, hates to be called anything but her full name and always gets upset and corrects her teasing sister when Al introduces her as “Abby”. Abigail is far more prudish than her sister, believing in doing things the proper way and turning up her nose at how the army people behave. She’s also never been around like Al has, so she is quite innocent and fearful; thus she ends up getting compared to Radar who she does become friends with. Abigail has a soft spot for reading poetry, which Al teases her about, and is something of a hopeless romantic who wants to get married someday. She also dreams of visiting Europe and seeing all the amazing art and culture there. Abigail looks at the world with childlike wonder and wishes to explore, which actually lends to her nursing skills because every little detail and tiny function of the body fascinates her, so she is very thorough, truly invested, and notices even the most minute error. She ends up working a lot with Charles, who enjoys the way she looks up to him and pays him lots of compliments as well as her methods, and because she can be a bit slower the other surgeons tease her about it and say Charles can have her, they’re a perfect match!

There’s more but I’ll stop there for now! I’ve toyed with really sitting down and writing the fic but I’m not sure if anyone wants to see it hehe~ thanks for reading this 😁

#m*a*s*h #mash 4077 #mash oc #hawkeye pierce #charles emerson winchester iii #al patterson #abigail patterson #picrew #my ocs #moots #w-a-l-t-e-r #little-bunny-in-space

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lya-dustin · 3 months

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The Ewanverse Family Tree

for shits and giggles and A Comedy of Non-Mathematical Errors

a collaboration by @toms-cherry-trees @elizarbell @huramuna

Family tree

9th and 10th century

(the last kingdom)

Osferth + unknown wife

19th century

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett

(World on Fire)

Douglas Bennett + Josie Bennett

-Tom Bennett

-Lois Bennett

Vera Chase

(The Halycon)

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Bennett+ Mr. Taylor

William ‘Billy’ Taylor

unknown sister

(Granchester)

Unknown Bennett sibling

-Abraham

20th century

Bennett Family post wwii

Tom Bennett + Diane Shelby (oc)

-Thomas Bennett Jr(oc)

-Elizabeth Bennett (oc)

Bennett Family

1960s

(Saltburn)

Tom Jr + some rich girl he met in Oxford in the 60s (unclear how he became a peer)

Elspeth Catton

Eadmund Bennett (basis GRRM used for Aemond Targaryn)

Micah Bennett

Lizzie + several unnamed men she hooked up with during the 60s and 70s

Billy Washington’s mom, Val Washington(Trigger Point)

Will from Salad Days’ dad

Jack from Fire’s mom

Bennett Family

1980s-1990s

Tom Jr's kids and grandkids

Elspeth + Sir James Catton

-Michael Cherwell Catton

-Felix River Catton

-Venetia Trinity Catton

Eadmund Bennett + Alice Rivers

-Ettore Rivers

Micah Bennett (via sperm donation)

Genyen/Shawn (Doctors)

Lizzie’s grandkids

Lana and Billy Washington (Trigger Point)

Will(Salad Days)

Jack and his brother (Fire)

Daniel from the veggie addicts video

Every single small role Ewan has ever been on

#ewan mitchell #abraham grantchester #aemond targaryen #ettore #elspeth catton #billy washington #billy taylor #the halcyon #trigger point #saltburn #my ocs #salad days #will salad days #genyen #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire bbc

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mawidixon · 6 days

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Ink and Ashes

Chapter 1- "The Day I Will Remember"

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!oc!

Warnings: TWD violence, trauma, swearing, family, sibling loss.

Setting: Season 1 - some things Will be changed in the whole history!!!

Summary: Margaret was living out there for long...too long. She lost her family and she was losing hope until...she met someone.

A/N: It's my first fanfiction written in English. I hope you like it.

Chapter 2

You need to know that my oc has blue eyes and straight black hair.

@mawi22 I don't want my work to be modified, copied, or any of this kind of stuff without my consent!!!

Margaret Miller is from Poland, a central Europe country. She spent seven years there before the family moved to Atlanta, a crowded city southeast of the United States. Sad enough, she lost both her parents and was left to take care of her sister Eva. In as much as she went through a lot of struggles, she made herself stronger and a hardworking girl to cater to herself and her sister.

Margaret was a highly accomplished poet whose literary works were widely recognized and appreciated. Her exceptional talent brought her immense financial success, which enabled her to assist her younger sister in starting college without any financial constraints. Margaret's generosity and support had wed her sister to pursue higher education without any worries or financial burden.

The world as we knew it came crashing down, and the apocalypse began with corpses wandering on the streets. Life became a living nightmare, and Eva and Margaret had to flee to the forest to survive. Every day was a struggle, with constant fear and uncertainty. One day, despite Margaret's warning, Eva set out alone in search of food. Unfortunately, her journey ended in tragedy as she was bitten, and it was not long before she succumbed to the infection and passed away.

Margaret was left alone...

Margaret hadn't eaten for two days, but she wasn't going to hunt anything. Maybe she just accepted that she would die sooner or later.

She was exhausted from constantly running and eliminating walkers. You could say that she was longing for something to end her life during her sleep. Most nights, she would sit under a random tree with a notebook and a pen she found and write her poems. Nothing could calm her as much as the yellowed notebook page with all her rhyming thoughts written on it.

Today was the same…She cried and wrote poems, with small breaks to kill approaching walkers.

"In fields of green, Margaret danced with glee, Her laughter rang, her spirit free. But when the dead rose, a zombie tide, Her joy extinguished, hopes denied. Once filled with life, her sister's embrace, Now lies in the earth, in silent grace. No more laughter, no more sighs, Beneath the stars, Margaret lies"

Not a minute after she was done with the poem, little streams of salty water were swiftly flowing down her cheeks. Her blue eyes, always sparkling and vivacious, now just shone with sadness and overflowing with emotion. It seemed as if the words on the paper had opened the dam of feelings that she couldn't keep in anymore.

Her sister, Eva, was a happy soul who was torn apart by these bloodthirsty beasts. And the only thing Margaret could do was watch. Before Eva died, Margaret had said "I hate you", and she regretted it deeply. She loved her with all her heart...

She stored her pen and notebook in a small backpack. It's early evening and she needs to find a secure place to rest.

"I need to keep moving." Margaret sighed and wiped her tears.

As she was getting up, she had a feeling that she heard the sound of branches cracking under someone's weight. She felt a sudden shiver that ran down her spine and her whole body reacted as she became highly conscious of her surroundings. Within seconds, she had her gun ready in her hand as she took in the surroundings. Her eyes were wide with fear as she inserted the last bullet into the chamber and cautiously yet steadily aimed her gun toward the direction of the sound, her head turning side to side, looking for any sign of danger.

She heard a noise of footsteps and grunting and hence she proceeded with caution and saw a man pinned by a walker. She aimed her gun and shot it, which killed it.

The person in question had such intense blue eyes that were manifestly evident among the dirt and blood stains on his heavy face. His clothes had fallen apart, and his hair was messy with sweat and dirt. A few feet away from her, Margaret, who had a gun in her hand, stood. Her eyes were glued to the man so she paused for a second when she brought her weapon down.

"What's wrong with ya woman!?"- He screamed in her direction.

"I wanted to help and..."

"I was havin' it! I didn't need any help!"

She appeared confused by the man's harsh response. Her loud gunshots could attract nearby walkers and alert them to their location. The man seemed furious and was muttering expletives under his breath.

"Get out of here and don't show up here again," he growled, waving his crossbow in an attempt to frighten her. A few seconds later, he slowly put down his gun and left her behind, frightened and alone.

The only thing that kept her standing there was her mind racing with questions. Forming a plan in her head, she slowly and carefully began to move forward, her steps almost soundless, as she followed the man's footprints. She looked around trying to observe her environment and get a sense of the place. Was the guy a part of a greater group, or did he live alone? Margaret was sure to get it, and she went ahead with the feeling of purpose and persistence. She could not take her eyes off the man's back, and she kept a distance, to avoid being noticed.

After walking for five minutes, the man suddenly stopped and aimed a crossbow at Margaret's head. She gasped in fear.

"I can't believe ya have been followin' me for minutes without sayin' a word! Did ya think I wouldn't hear that!?"- The man's voice was booming with anger as he came to face her. The man’s face was distorted by anger and his eyes burned with intensity.

"Go or I will kill ya"

After he made the statement, Margaret turned around and walked away in the opposite direction without saying a word.

Days later...

Margaret remembers a sleepless night when she was running for her life from walkers, as a crowd of them were constantly getting closer and closer to her. The situation was worsened by the fact that she had no break from the constant fear and danger and the only hope was to keep on running until she could find a safe place. As the morning came by, she felt tired, and the walkers seemed to be gone. However, she sat down next to a lady with long, brown hair. Margaret felt a surge of relief and gratitude at the mere sight of this stranger who might have, just now, saved her life.

The second she saw a camp she was stunned, people, tents, and a place where you can go fishing. How did she never notice that place? It seemed nice and kind of safe (if you can say it in a world full of monsters trying to eat you)

"Hey! Are you okay?"-she asked.

"Yeah..."- Margaret said still heavily breathing.

"Okay. My name is Lori and yours? You have a group or..."- Her talking was interrupted by the same man Margaret saw days earlier angrily approaching them.

"WHAT THE FUCK!? WHAT IS SHE DOIN' HERE?"

Lori said, "Daryl, please calm down!"- while looking confused.

Daryl was gesturing with his hands and yelling, "THAT CRAZY WOMAN LURED WALKERS HERE!'" A few individuals from the group forcefully took hold of Daryl and pulled him away from the scene.

"Do you know him?"

Margaret sighed deeply before saying, "This is a long story, but in short we have run into each other before in the woods, I killed a walker who held him down to the ground."

...minutes later...

The moment when Margaret was in the pond near the camp, she realized how invigorating it was to have the water moving gently over her body. It was as if this emotion was a divine present. This made her so happy. The sight that surrounded her was breathtakingly beautiful at the same time. The wind went by the trees softly, making them move in a dance that was hypnotizing. The leaves made a soft rustling sound which gave a soothing feeling to the atmosphere. It was a precious moment of contentment where even the smallest things sparkled and vibrated with their inimitable beauty. And majority of it was quiet with the walkers' sounds being absent.

The more time she spent in the water, the more she came to feel clean and revitalized. Finally, when she emerged from the water, she felt great. As she came out of the water, the woman with the big heart, Carol offered her a fresh set of clothes. The clean clothes were like a hug, giving her the warmth and assuredness she so desperately needed.

"Thank you, Carol," Margaret said as she was already fully dressed.

The short-haired woman looked at her with a smile on her face. "I hope you can stay, you seem alone...no one deserves that".

"It's okay I kinda got used to it, but I can't say that I don't want to stay because that would be a lie."

"Our group will have a conversation with you soon to discuss whether you can stay," Carol said.

"Tell us about you."

Margaret was deep in thought, and she didn't even realize who was asking her the question. "I used to be a poet, but nothing special," she said. "After the apocalypse started, I was with my sister. We were living in the woods, but she got bitten..." She wiped away a tear. "Sorry, I don't want to talk about it."

...

The group had been talking for an hour, and they came to a decision - they would welcome Margaret as a new member of their group of survivors, even though Daryl had initially objected.

As they continued to talk, they shared some difficult news with Margaret. They had lost many people the previous night, and Jim - one of their own - had been bitten by a walker. It was a devastating blow, but they knew they had to keep moving and find a safer place. Maybe this place wasn't as safe as she thought. After that, Margaret turned to Rick with a concerned look on her face and asked, "I noticed that Daryl seems quite angry. Can you please tell me what's going on with him?"

"It's about you or it's about me because he probably lost his brother, and it was my fault"- Rick answered.

As Andrea walks towards a group of people, her eyes land on Margaret and a look of recognition crosses her face. It seems as though Andrea has seen Margaret before.

She finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Margaret Miller, right?" Her eyes betrayed her attempt at a smile, revealing the deep sadness she was trying to conceal. Margaret nodded.

Andrea's voice trembled as she spoke, "My sister adored your poems... If only she were still here, she would have been overjoyed to meet you." She sniffled and wiped away a lone tear. Margaret felt sorry for her, she lost her sister too and she still didn't recover from this. So she says- "Maybe I could write a poem about her? I didn't know her but you can help and then you will have something to remember." Andrea was silent for 5 seconds then she said- "It's not gonna help...but thank you." As a response, she just said a simple "Okay".

Then Andrea left to talk with Dale.

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #the walking dead fanfiction #oc #Ink and Ashes #Spotify

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countrymusiclover · 10 months

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44 - Love is the most powerful magic of all

His Golden Princess

Thank you all for reading ❤️ This is the end of Astrid and Rumple's story

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @icefrye19 @lover-of-books-and-tea

Shooting awake up in the bed holding my stomach with my hands tightly. Frantically looking around I gasped. Fumbling over to my nightstand I dialed the first phone number I could think of. “Em, ah! I need your help. The baby…”

“Ast, what’s wrong?” Even though she wasn’t happy I used the sword to save her life and made her a Dark One she still cared about me.

It had been a few months since I had told her and Rumple the truth. Throwing my head back against the pillows I gripped the phone in my hand. “I think the baby’s coming. I….ohhh. I need Rumple.”

“I’ll come get you.” She said quickly.

Biting my lip I drew blood feeling contractions. My heart was beating faster. “Emma, there’s no need. I can just magic there….ah what the hell?” Looking down to my arm I gasped seeing some dark veins rising up through my veins.

“Astrid, tell me. What’s going on!” My sister declared through the phone hearing the panic in my voice. We could always tell the difference in the other person's voice when we were terrified. Before she gave birth to Henry I visited her in jail and could see she was horrified.

Tossing the covers aside I stumbled out of the bed. Standing on my feet I winced holding a hand over my heart feeling it burning in pain. "Emma, I need Rumple. Ohhh! Call - call Ella…call Ashley. Whoever she's going by. Cinderella!"

"Okay I'm calling her right now." Emma hung up where I stumbled down the stairs in my sleep clothes trying to not panic. Leaning against the wall I knew that Ashly or Ella would be there for me just like my sister.

Walking into Ashly’s hospital room Emma said I should be the one to tell her we convince Gold to let her keep her child. Shutting the door behind me I smiled seeing her holding her daughter. “Hey, how’s she doing. What’s her name?”

“Alexandra. Sean came to see her.” Her smile dropped thinking back to Gold and their deal. “Will he be taking her from me now?”

Sitting down on the edge of her bed I placed a hand on her leg. “Nope. Emma and I got him to let you keep her. My sister will owe him a favor but it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.”

“Thank you, thank you both so much.” She began crying, bouncing her baby girl in her arms.

Sending her a grin I tilted my head sensing she had more to say. “What is it, Ashly?”

“I noticed Emma, your sister said she had a kid. But you don’t. I just thought that if you ever have children I’ll be there for you.” The blonde grinned and we would later learn she was Cinderella. “You and Emma gave me a chance to raise my child. And that is something I will never forget.”

Sniffing through tears I didn’t expect that from the single mother. “Awe thank you, Ashly. I will remember that. You have my word.”

The blonde princess pulled up outside my house and her husband Thomas came inside seeing that I was holding my stomach. Throwing my head back I winced sharply. “Sean!”

“Did someone call a prince to the rescue? Come on, we'll get you to the hospital.” He wrapped his arms around my waist lifting me up bridal style carrying me out to his truck.

Ashly was in the front passenger seat holding her daughter in her lap. But she reached behind the seat taking my hand in hers. “It’s going to be okay. Emma said she is going to get Rumple.”

“Okay…” I nodded, biting my lip, shutting my eyes as we flee to the hospital which thankfully wasn’t far in the small formerly cursed town. Once we were there her prince came back with a wheelchair and the nurse got a room ready.

Laying in the bed I gasped seeing the dark veins making their way through my whole arm. I didn't know why it was happening but it had to be the reason I collapsed and saw my daughter in a future vision. “Ah Mrs. Gold. I am praying that this pregnancy I perform is actually normal this time.” Dr. Whale came into the room with a set of nurses.

“You and I both…urgh!” I bared my teeth down before the lights in the room flickered off and on like crazy. I had a blood pressure cuff on tracing my vitals that started sounding off like crazy.

Whale came over reading the level my heart was going. “Woah, that isn’t good. Your heart rate is way too low.”

“It probably has something to do with these.” Holding my forearm upwards he caught sight of the dark veins. I coughed some blood on my shirt when the door burst open and I saw my sister and husband. “Emma - Rumple!”

My husband rushed over to my bedside as quickly as he could with the limp and cane. He takes my hand in tracing his thumb over the veins that were growing my palms now. “Astrid, I’m sorry. There shouldn’t be this much stress on the baby. But don’t worry I’ll fix it.”

“Rumple ... .no you take the power back.” I gasped through tears seeing him draw the Dark One dagger from inside his suit jacket.

He shook his head clutching the dagger handle tightly in his hands. He began crying heavily where I could see his brown eyes welling with tears. “I can’t let the darkness kill you and our daughter. You are too important to me, lass. You are my heart and soul. If you die then I won’t have my happy ending. You have changed me to be a better man and know love when I didn’t think I deserved it. So let me take the power back please.”

“But if you take it back it will kill you, Rumple. That’s the whole reason why I took it from you….I don’t want to lose the man I love.” I sobbed heavily through tears clutching the bedsheets in my fingers. “Please don’t leave me, Rumple. I need you….you are my life!”

He placed the dagger in my right wrapping his hand around mine where he winced shaking through the pain feeling how stronger the darkness had become in my bloodstream. “Then we will split the power between us. Together we share a heart. So we can share the power too.”

“How…I thought only one person could be the Dark One.” I croaked, squeezing his hand in mine beginning to feel more scared than before.

Emma stepped forward taking the dagger in her hands raising it up to the two of us all the while Dr. Whale was jumping standing there watching. “I found a way to control my light magic over the darkness that is keeping me alive. I know what to do. You have to each have light and dark magic inside of you.” She focused sternly on us before the dagger glows brightly and we both gasped.

Shifting my gaze to Rumple I saw he was watching me too. Suddenly the dark magic came outside of me and split into two separate strands. The magic shot back into our hearts and the same thing happened with my golden light magic. “That should work….oh my gosh.” My sister sighed with a smile.

“It worked, Rumple.” Leaning my head against his chest I sighed in relief intertwining my hand with his gently. His brown eyes watched the darkness veins disappear from my arms a few seconds after.

Dr. Whale looked at my screen showing the baby getting my legs up and open to push. “Now that your heart is good we need to get this baby out for ya.”

Rumple moved around to the side of the bed so I could hold onto his hand. The contractions started coming closer together when I gave my first few pushes. My heart started banging against my chest and I already felt tired. "It's starting to come out, Astrid. Just a few more big pushes." Dr. Whale said back.

Rumple winced sharply when I squeezed his hand even tighter. My freehand was turning white while I gripped the handle of the dagger. Sweat was sticking to my forehead with the white hair falling over my shoulders appearing to be a mess. "I can't do this, Rumple…I can’t!"

"Yes you can. Astrid. I've seen you overcome things that have been much harder than this. So I know you can do this." He replied, squeezing my hand in his even though I had nearly broken his hand at this point.

Nodding my head slowly I bared my teeth doing one final push that took the last of my energy that I had left. An infant's cry filled the room where I threw my head back onto the pillows. Gulping a lump down my throat I slowly controlled my breathing while the nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket handing them to me once I had sat up again. "Congratulations, you have a baby girl. Have you thought of a name?"

“No….ah what the hell!” I gasped, feeling more contractions breaking through my body.

Emma whipped her head around in panic. “Whale, what is happening to my sister?”

“It’s okay. Uh….she has another baby coming.” He dropped down in his rolling chair frantically getting prepared again telling me to push again. “You have to start pushing again, Mrs. Gold.”

Sucking in a breath Rumple squeezed my hand tightly knowing that I was beginning to panic rapidly. He pushed hair out of my face when I started pushing as much as I could. “Ahhh!”

“There it is. Congratulations again you two. You have a baby boy now too.” Dr. Whale held up the baby in his arms, handing it to the other nurse.

The nurses handed the girl to me and the baby boy to Rumple. He sent me a teary grin and I chuckled, not expecting that we would have two kids at once. “Rumple, I know the name for the daughter. Marigold Ella Stilskin. But you can name the boy.”

“Gideon Baefire Stilskin.” He declares leaning forward kissing me gently. Leaning into the kiss I smiled when he whispered back. “I love you, Astrid. I always will. You are my golden princess.”

Breaking the kiss we both stared down at the infants in our arms. No matter what we had faced, these little joys were all worth it. “I love you too, Rumple. You are my dark prince.” I would never forget that Henry bringing us here to break a curse changed everything for the better.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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multifandomwriter56 · 8 months

Text

Codependent Siblings

A/N: This is for @zablife's 2k Celebration An Evening at Arrow House I hope you like it, Lee; and congrats again! I'm using a dark twist on my OC that I'm hoping to introduce to everyone later on.

Summary: The new Mrs. Shelby is excited to meet the infamous Margaret "Maggie" Shelby. Or as her enemies know her as Mad Maggie. But when Tommy refuses to let her meet his sister, Mrs. Shelby decides to take matters into her own hands. Will she regret her impulsiveness or will she make a new friend?

Characters: Tommy Shelby, Margaret Shelby (OC), Mrs. Shelby

Warnings: language, dark!theme(ish)

Word Count: 1,058

Mrs. Thomas Shelby enjoyed her long honeymoon, but she has to admit, she's very excited to get home and meet Thomas' family.

She's especially excited to meet his youngest sister, Margaret. Better known as Mad Maggie.

When the new Mrs Shelby asked Tommy how his sister inherited her name; he never answered her directly. He would joke, saying how his brother, John, would call her that just to annoy her. When Y/n would ask why, his reply was always, "It was John. How the fuck should I know?"

But Tommy promised she would meet Maggie when they arrived home; which won't be too hard since the young girl still lives at the Arrow House mansion.

She thought about asking Tommy why the twenty-six year old still lives with her brother, but figured he is done answering questions for the day.

***

Now Mrs. Shelby would hate to call her husband a liar, but it's been two months since they left Paris, and she hasn't seen Maggie once.

Every day she asks Thomas about the young girl and every day, he walks up the stairs and unlocks the door to a room that she isn't allowed in. A few minutes later, he'll come back down, a hollow look washing over him as he quietly tells her, "Not today."

Day forty-six, she breaks. Questioning her husband's actions.

"What do you mean not today? Why the bloody hell is she locked in a room? Why can't I see her? And why am I forbidden from setting foot in that fucking room?"

Tommy wishes he doesn't have to forbad his wife like he would a child; but she absolutely cannot enter that room unless it's a good day.

A good bloody day.

There hasn't been a good day since John's death; and he doesn't think there ever will be one.

He wraps his wife in his arms. A gesture he will never get to do with his baby sister ever again. "I know, love. I know you want to meet her; but she's... delicate, and I can't risk either one of you getting hurt because she's having a bad day."

Not able to wrap her mind around his words, she decides not to fight him.

She'll meet the famous Mad Maggie and she'll meet her tonight.

***

For the first time since they have been married, Mrs. Shelby is grateful for being a light sleeper. Tommy doesn't go to bed until the late hours, so she's able to sleep until he climbs into bed next to her.

She waits for the heavy breathing that signals her husband has fallen into a deep sleep before slowly pulling herself up.

She grabs the set of keys Tommy uses to unlock the forbidden bedroom before quietly slipping out of the master bedroom.

She pauses for a moment, listening for the maids. When she hears no footsteps, she tiptoes her way to the forbidden room.

When she's standing in front of the door, she glances over her shoulder before unlocking the door.

Slowly, she opens the door, her eyes adjusting to the pitch black room.

"Tommy?" A hoarse voice calls from the corner of the room.

"M-Maggie? My name is-"

"Are you the newest wife?" The voice questions, laced with humor.

Taken back by the question, Mrs Shelby slowly answers. "Yes."

The dark figure stands, her only light coming from the hallway. She can't help but take a step back when the figure takes two steps forward.

The blood drains from her face, her veins turning ice cold at the haunting laugh that comes from the figure.

"You shouldn't have come in here. It's not safe. Demons live here."

"D-Demons?"

"Aye-" The dark figure takes another step foward, the sinsiter smile plaster on the young woman's face shining through the light. "And I, Mad Maggie, am their ruler." A hollow laugh slips through before all amusment drains from the terrifying yet beautiful face. "And my demons are hungry."

Her scream pierces through the house, her heart beating so fast that she believes it will beat right out of her chest. She's frozen in fear and can't get her legs to move as the mad woman stalks towards her.

"Margaret!" A hard, but terrified voice cuts through her screams.

The newest Shelby watches as her husband grabs the mad woman and forces her away from his wife.

Tommy doesn't stop pushing his sister until her back hits the wall, ignoring his wife calling his name.

She thought Tommy would hurt the young woman, but as she looks over the room she sees what looks like squared pillows covering every inch of the walls.

"Aw, come on, Tommy! I was just messing around." Maggie cackles. "Well, there was a fifty/fifty chance I wasn't." She winks at the woman, ignoring her brother shaking her in warning.

"That's enough!"

"Oh, come off it, Thomas!" She yells. "You know in the end, you'll always pick me. You can't get rid of me. I'm the last bit of sanity you have left." She giggles. "Even if I do drive you mad."

"Shut up!"

Maggie does, but her sinister smile turns from her brother to the woman who realized she's never known true fear.

How could Tommy keep this from her? How could he do this to his own sister?

"She needs help, Tommy."

"No!" She jumps as his snapping voice, but the young woman just laughs. "They can't help her."

"You tell her, brother. Only you can help me. Only big brother Tommy."

"Please, love. Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

"Just come with me now. I'm scared, Tommy."

"You should be."

"Maggie!"

"Get used to it, Mrs. Thomas Shelby. He can get a new wife; just like he did with you; after Grace died. But blood family is always going to come out on top. Just wait. You'll see soon enough."

"Tommy-"

"Go to bed." Tommy is pleading with his wife. "She's not right in the head. She just wants to frighten you."

Seeing the pain, the horror, and his own fear in his eyes, she listens to him. She drops the keys on the floor; and with shaky legs, makes her way back to the master bedroom.

Feeling numb, she stares up at the ceiling, sleep refusing to take her away from reality.

"What did I get myself into?"

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee @elenavampire21 @kmc1989

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

#zablife 2k celebration #tommy shelby #sister fic #oc #maggie shelby #peaky blinders

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