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thanx-idonttry · 3 years

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Bakugou x Black Singer/Blogger!Reader

They Are Pro Heroes, like Age 25.

This came out longer than expected.

Tags: Fluff. Bakugou being a fanboy.

You weren’t hugely famous, but you were internet famous, and that’s still pretty huge. You were just a Black girl showing your voice, hoping to brighten someone’s day.

And with each video of you upload to your blog, you manage to make over 1 million people smile. And one of those 1 million people was Katsuki Bakugou, A.K.A Dynamite. One half of the #1 Pro Hero of Japan.

A few years after high school, He and Midoriya teamed up and climbed the charts to the #1 spot. As busy as he and Midoriya is, he always finds time to watch each and every one of your videos.

He made a secret page under another name, just to like and reblog your videos. He likes to start his day by clicking one of your singing videos, and blare it through his house as he gets ready for the day. He could be going to work of off for the day, he’ll play one of songs.

The man was hooked as soon as he heard you do a cover to Beyonce’s “1+1″. He was shooketh! He’s used to hearing your original songs, you rarely do covers. But he still loved it. Unable to look away from you as your power house voice blocked out everything around him. He loved hearing you sing or watching your other videos of miscellaneous things because it relates to your culture, which he really isn’t exposed to all the time. So he watches to learn more.

But he really just likes watching you. You look so passionate when you do your blogs, it was so interesting to him. You were such a foreign masterpiece to him, everything from your thick, curly (or braided) dark hair. Your brown (or Hazel) eyes seemed so bright to him. Your skin tone was so wonderful, it always made you look like you were glowing. And your attitude was nothing to play with. He realized that when you obliterated a racist hater on one of her live videos.

He was crushing, he was crushing hard and didn’t even realize it yet. He’ll put on one your videos to relax him Not long before his friends catch on and realize that he was a fan. The first to find out was Midoriya. (He works with the man sooo...) Catching Bakugou watching your videos. “Oh you Follow Y/N too? I think she’s really talented.” Midoriya says to him.

Katsuki, who was still wrapped up in watching you talk about the injustices against your race, he accidentally let “She’s so fucking wonderful.” Slip out loud, and Midoriya smirked teasingly.

Bakugou stiffened, completely frozen with wide eyes and a red tint hitting his face. “Did I hear right? Kacchan has a crush on Y/N?” He teased. In honesty, he’s happy for Bakugou.

But Bakugou being a proud man, doesn’t want to fully admit it. “SHUT THE HELL UP!! I just think she’s... Cool.” He says while still trying to cover up his flushed face, He didn’t want anyone seeing this.

He was embarrassed, his secret is out. He kept you a secret because it was his way of having you all to himself. Even though he didn’t know you and Vice Versa, he wanted you to be his in a way. So yeah, he was crushing.

“So you already know she’ll be here in a couple of weeks for her blog and to do a few promotions. Why don’t you make some arrangements to meet her?” Midoriya suggests, and it makes Bakugou nervous.

“I don’t know about that, she never really mentioned Heroes in any of her posts... I don’t think she’s interested in Pro Heroes.” Bakugou said with some disappointment in his voice

———

“The Wonder Duo once again saved over 200 civilians who were attending a charity ball that was taken hostage by villains. And—” You didn’t even get the chance to hear the rest of the news report because you started fangirling over Dynamite.

They showed clips from the incident and all you could think was how good he looked taking down those villains. You were such a fan of him, but you thought that people would discriminate you two because of your races. Don’t want to constantly hear “DyNaMiTe DoN’t EvEn LiKe BlAcK GiRls” *Insert Eye Roll*

You kept your love for him a secret, if only your fans knew that he was the reason behind every love song you made. You have merchandise from the hero, your love for him ran deep. So you were looking forward to your trip in a couple of weeks, being in the country as Dynamite gave you goosebumps.

A huge part of you was hoping to run into him while you were there. Get him to sign a few things before finishing his patrol, maybe have a little chat. You squealed at the thought of being in front of your favorite hero, thoughts of possibilities floated into your head, like possibly getting a hug, or like sing for him! You wondered if he was a fan of you.

Then a frown appeared on your face, He’s probably too busy to look at your videos. Sure you had fans, but someone like Dynamite is probably too preoccupied with cooler shit to watch your videos. I mean, you two are from different worlds. Then the comments from people of your blog saying “PRO HEROES FROM JAPAN DON’T LIKE BLACK PEOPLE” “DYNAMITE DON’T LIKE BLACK GIRLS” Blah, Blah, Blah.

You were worried that your favorite hero wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You grabbed your plushie of Dynamite and held it tight, you did your best to let them thoughts go, but you knew there was only one way to cool your jets, was to blog about it, then make a video afterwards.

You ranted about black love and the appreciation of Black x Japanese interracial love, and that it’s okay to date outside your race. Love is Love and as long as they respect each others cultures and truly love each other. After you logged off, you started getting ready for your trip. You ignored your phone going off, and continued packing.

When you were done, you decided to write a song to help with the left over nerves you got from multiple things. As you sit there in your bonnet, (Favorite color) tank top, (Other Favorite color) shorts, your house shoes booties, typing lyrics into your phone. In your most natural state, you wondered if Dynamite would like you like this.

You know that you’re beautiful, but the possibility of your future not finding you attractive does bother you. You kept telling yourself to stop thinking like that and focus on your shit. You don’t need obsessing over petty little shit from people you don’t even know.

_____

Bakugou watched your rant video the moment he woke up. He woke up and grabbed his phone. Once he saw your notification on his phone, he fully woke up and instantly clicked play. Once he didn’t see your bright smile, he knew something was up.

He laid in his bed, watching you rant about Black love. He heard you mention Pro heroes, and his eyes widened. He knew someone had irritated you, and that irritated him. He knew for sure that he, and a lot of heroes and civilians here don’t discriminate. He wanted to know who the hell filled your head with this bullshit?! He wanted to make a video, yelling at the extras that think that told you this crap. He wanted to set them straight.

But then people will find out that he’s a fan of you, and if his friends find out... he’ll never hear the end of it. Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero will tease him at every given moment. But he wanted to let you know that all of us Heroes in Japan have nothing but love for the black community.

Mirko, the Hero he was a sidekick to for 5 years, She was black. And she was the most Badass out of all heroes. He didn’t want you feel this way, he wanted to find a way to make you smile. You make him smile every morning, so he should return the favor. He’ll have to figure out while he patrolling today.

Bakugou got his opportunity while patrolling with Midoriya. The town was holding a festival and a lot of people were attending, including 5-6 News reporters. The Mayor had asked them to guard the event, and of course, being heroes, they accepted.

A idiot wannabe Villain with his quirk being animal shapeshifting, turned into a giant, raging Ape. He was bent on destroying the festival and everything that makes people happy. He and Midoriya took him down in like 10 mins, and of course, reporters wanted them to say a few words or interview them. “Dynamite! Deku! Do you have any words to say?” a reporter asked as she shoved her mic in his face.

“All I wanna say is... I fucking Love Black People, They are awesome! Awesome, strong, and especially beautiful. Shout to all the Black Girls/Women everywhere.“ Then he walked off to give the villain to the cops. Midoriya chimed in and said. “I agree with everything he said. Shout out to the Black People! If you feel like your lives don’t matter to anyone, just know and remember that they truly matter to us, and we’re going to do are hardest to make you all feel protected.“ Then he walked off, catching up to Bakugou.

____

“All I wanna say is... I fucking Love Black People, They are awesome! Awesome, strong, and especially beautiful. Shout to all the Black Girls/Women everywhere.“

“I agree with everything he said. Shout out to the Black People! If you feel like your lives don’t matter to anyone, just know and remember that they truly matter to us, and we’re going to do are hardest to make you all feel protected.“

The video you watched on the plane was weeks old, but it stills get you feeling good. After you saw this video for the first time two weeks ago, you kinda been smug about it. But not in a bad way.

You felt safe Wearing your Dynamite mearch while blogging or singing. You showed a different side of your room, The side where your shrine to Pro Heroes were. Posters, pillows, and Chibi Dolls.

You even Admitted it to your fans that you were a Hero Nerd, and that brought more followers to your page. You felt great that you didn’t have to hide anymore. Little did you know, A certain Hero was following and loving it more. Making sure to leave a like and reblog on your content.

You were excited for this trip and the Concert you were opening for tonight. You also have a Meet & Greet, so you know this will be great for your content. You were also secretly hoping to run into your dream Hero. You know they say “Don’t Meet Your Hero!” But they can eat your ass because you’re making that happen! You’re favorite hero loves Black Women.

You started to wonder... It’s kind of weird how after you made your rant video about Black Love, He said that on the news. A surge went through your body as your mind wondered to the fact that Dynamite might actually watch your videos! What if he comes to your concert? *Le gasp* What if he shows up at your meet and greet?! Your internal fangirl started coming out. You had tell yourself to calm down before the people on the plane think you’re being killed or something.

You took one selfie to show that you were on the way, posted it, and fell asleep. When you wake up, You’ll be in Japan.

____

Bakugou was changing out of his hero clothing, finally ending a long day at work. He had just got healed and patched up, and not he was prepping to leave when his phone went off. He reached for it and saw that had you had posted a selfie, and now you’re going live as you approach a familiar theatre.

His eyes widened, He knew exactly where that place was. Then Deku came bursting in, phone in his hand showing the same video he was watching. He had such excitement on his face, he honestly startled Bakugou the way Midoriya bursted in.

“KACCHAN! KACCHAN! WE CAN MAKE IT! WE CAN SEE AND MEET HER!“ Midoriya yelled. His eyes were showing that excitement when he meets a cool hero, a smile to match his excitement. “Get dressed quick! we can still make it on time to see her perform.“

“SHHHH! Shut The Fuck Up Before Someone Hears You Deku! and, I know. I’m getting ready.“ Bakugou had a slight blush on his face, and he was trembling. Why the fuck was he trembling?! He’s just going to meet a person that he enjoys. Someone that he watches damn near everyday and plays her music, nothing special right?

His heart was racing, he couldn’t control his feelings inside, but he did his best to not show them externally. He doesn’t want to look like Midoriya right now. But he had to admit it to himself, he was excited as hell.

Both of them put on hoodies and Sunglasses to hide their identity as they went to the concert. Bakugou’s trembling got a little more noticeable because he was in the same building as you. When you came on stage, Bakugou’s breath hitched. You were even more stunning in person, it was like you had a glow around you as you thanked everyone for coming out.

As you began to sing, what normally happens to Bakugou, happened 10x more. As your voice hits his ears, he tuned out everyone here. He got tunnel vision, and all he could see and here was you. Midoriya looked at his friend and noticed that Bakugou had loving/relaxed smile on his face. His eyes glued on you. And that gave Midoriya an Idea.

When you were done with your performance, Midoriya dragged Bakugou backstage, to your dressing room. The guards weren’t letting them pass until Midoriya revealed who they were, then the doors flew open for them. (Perks of Being the #1 Heroes.) They knocked on the door, and heard your voice, Bakugou tensed up.

The only thing that separated you and him was a door. Bakugou’s breathing got heavy, all common sense and the words he knew floated out his head. all he thought was “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! SHE’S BEHIND THIS DOOR!!!”

You asked who was it, and Of course, Midoriya was the one to speak first. “Hi, you don’t know us, but My name is Deku, and I’m the #1-“

The door flew opened before Midoriya had the chance to finish. You stood the with your eyes wide and jaw to the floor. In front of you stood Japan’s #1 heroes, you couldn’t believe it. “No fucking way!” was all you could get out. “I just wanted to say that I know you had a meet and greet, but we’re big fans, especially my partner here. We couldn’t wait” Midoriya finished before pushing Bakugou forward towards you.

Bakugou stumbled but caught himself as he stood directly in front of you. There you stood, in all your glory, looking like a Black Goddess. He felt like he wasn’t worthy to be in your presence. He had to collect himself, he had to say something to you! Wait a minute, he’s Katsuki fucking Bakugou! Dynamite! The Great Explosion Murder God! He shouldn’t be nervous! He’s got this

He cleared his throat, then you smiled at him. All that nerve he built, fluttered away like butterflies. He grew a love sick smile and looked at you lovingly. “I love you” Slipped out of his mouth. You gasped, then Bakugou realized what he said and nervously tried to correct his mistake. “Your Work! I love your work! I mean I don’t love you- not to sound like I hate you, I-I mean I actually think you’re amazing....ly talented! Oh Fuck! Let me start over! I’m Dynamite, but you already know that, but you can call me Bakugou. And I enjoy your work.”

Remember what they said about meet you heroes? EAT MY ASS FUCKERS! DYNAMITE IS A FAN!!!!

“He’s a huge fan! he watches everything you post!“ Deku chimed in with his teasing voice and smirk, which caused Bakugou to threaten Midoriya to shut up. You stepped aside to let the two pro heroes into your dressing room.

There the three of you talked. But it was mostly you and Bakugou talking. You find out that he’s been following you for a while and vice versa. You and Bakugou hit off so well, he invited you to lunch and you invited him to do a vid with him.

It was like the more you talk, the more Bakugou grew to like you. He gave you his contact info because he wanted to keep in touch with you. He appreciated everything that you are, and would love to see more of you in person. Even offered to pay for you to come back soon.

The two of you started traveling to see one another, like him traveling to the states and you going to his country. It wasn’t long before you two started dating. You two doing vids together, and him recording you sing.

Lets just say the world couldn’t predict that you and Japan’s biggest Hero would be a huge Power Couple.

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fu-yao · 3 years

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#showyourprocess

From planning to posting, share your process for making creative content!

To continue supporting content makers, this tag game is meant to show the entire process of making creative content: this can be for any creation.

RULES — When your work is tagged, show the process of its creation from planning to posting, then tag 5 people with a specific link to one of their creative works you’d like to see the process of. Use the tag #showyourprocess so we can find yours!

Thank you so much for tagging me @lan-xichens, I’ll try my best to explain how I made this set from start to finish hehe ♡ and also a big thank you to @suibianjie @highwarlockkareena @nyx4 @aheartfullofjolllly and you as well Kris for putting this all together! Content creators get a lot less recognition than they deserve for all the time they put into their content, so getting everyone to see the (sometimes excessive) process we all go through to put our content in our blog, I hope it creates a positive change!! 💖

1. Planning

The set in question was actually requested by someone so they could celebrate their friend’s birthday! At first I wasn’t entirely sure if I was going to be able to finish it on time (college is very hectic right now) but I was able to finish it three days before the deadline which was may 1st! ^-^

The first thing I did was decide what characters I wanted to use in the set, I first reached out to the person who requested the set if there were certain characters they wanted me to use but they said they didn’t know enough to really give me any directives outside of the quote. I decided, since the quote is applicable to the entirety of the show, that I would try to put in as many characters as possible.

Thus, of course, came the hunting for scenes. Those of you in the net discord surely know I came into the content help channel a few times to ask for certain scenes here and there, and eventually I had to download an additional 10 episodes to the back then 20 or so episodes I had in my CQL episodes folder.

As you can see I have 30 random episodes of CQL downloaded (slowly but surely getting to the point where I have all 50 episodes downloaded) and I think I ended up using scenes out of at least 20 of those episodes.

I planned out beforehand what characters I would use per gif. I knew obviously I would start out with Wangxian, them being the main characters of the show, and then would work my way down the list. The second gif consists of Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning. They’re all family pairings, two being siblings and one being a married couple. The next gifset consists of the Yi City characters, then the fourth gif consists of the juniors, and the final gif has Jin Guangyao, Mianmian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen in it.

I have to admit though that when I had made the first four gifs I’d forgotten who I would put in the last gif and the when I thought about it the first time around I could only think of Lan Qiren and the very cursed Yaoyang ship 😭 it was only at dinner time that same day that I remembered I hadn’t put Jiang Cheng in my gifset yet and that’s when I thought of the other characters as well.

I had already made my first two gifs when I went to check Hanyi’s blog for layout inspo and eventually I decided I wanted to try a triangle-ish layout, which I doodled below. I eventually ended up changing the layout of the last gif in the final design. It was also the first time I would work with a triangle-ish layout so I was a bit nervous as I was scared it wasn’t going to work out...

2. Creating

I use Avisynth 2.5 and Adobe Photoshop 2021 (the paid version, unfortunately, I need it for school except I didn’t need it this year but I wanted it so I paid for it with my own money ouch) to make my gifsets! I always start out with trimming down all the scenes I’m going to use into three to five second videos and putting them through Avisynth. This time around I did it separately for each gif I made, simply because I needed so many scenes. I would include a screenshot of my “gif vids” and “temp” folders but I’ve already deleted all the videos, which is what I usually do immediately after a set is posted.

I’ll try my best explaining this gif by gif since each one had a different layout!

2.1 Wangxian

I think I had up to five different designs of this gif 😭 it started out with the gif on the left originally being more centered and the quote right smack in the center but somehow it felt a bit too... empty? I changed up the design and pulled the gif over to the right and put the two closeups on the left, the exact opposite of the gif I eventually ended up with. I switched things around one more time and saved the gif as you can see it right now, except I didn’t include the lines yet. It was only as I finished up my fourth gif that I decided this gif needed lines as well so I added them ^-^

2.2 Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning

I got the inspiration for the font layout on this gif from this Wenzhou post! I hadn’t tried it before and when I did for this gif I was very happy with the way it turned out :D I wanted to portray that life is a pile of good and bad things, as the quote says, in CQL by mirroring these happy scenes side by side with the sad scenes

2.3 Yi CIty

My first time working with the triangle layout!! Putting in the lines and making sure they would line up with the second gif took me the longest of all actually 😭 I think once I got the line on the left in I just copy pasted it and flipped it horizontally so I didn’t have to fiddle around with angling it anymore :’) my original idea was to get a happy Song Lan scene and a sad A-Qing scene, but when I stumbled upon this A-Qing scene in ep38 I just had to put it in there because her smile is so precious 🥺 Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen in the center are also supposed to be mirrored, with Xue Yang embodying the “bad things” and Xiao Xingchen the “good things” ! I also think the Yi City characters fit this part of the quote very well!!

2.4 The Juniors

Ah yes, the junior quartet!! :D I had this planned out from the very beginning, that I would include happy versus sad juniors in the “vice versa” part of the quote, and I think it worked out quite well! My first idea was to put the “vice versa” completely in the special font and have it typed out over the gifs like I did with the “vice” but as I typed out the “versa” I realized it had one letter too much to be able to do that 😭😭 it took me a while to come up with how I would position the “but” and “versa” and after some moving around I decided to just place them the way I did in the final gif! For the font, I duplicated the “vice” and added a stroke to the duplicate, then I changed the fill setting to 0% so I could slightly drag the duplicate away from the original layer to create the effect that’s in the gif — also, finding a scene in which Jin Ling smiles is really difficult.... he barely even smiles in the scene I ended up using :(

2.5 Jin Guangyao, Mianmian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen

The final gif!! I feel like this might come a little across as “I promise I didn’t forget these characters” because they’re a very odd quadruplet to put together, but they were the most important characters left to put in the set! I was thinking of putting Nie Mingjue in here together with Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen, but I did feel he fit more with his brother up in the second gif. Mei @mylastbraincql cheered me on making this gif for which I was very grateful :D <3 the layout came to be after I googled “how to evenly split a rectangle in four” because I didn’t want a repeat layout in the set (*/∇＼*)

2.6 Coloring

For the coloring I pretty much did all of the tweaking on the first gif and then copy pasted all of it onto the second, third, fourth, and fifth gif. This is usually the way I go about my coloring, I will always edit certain gifs if necessary but I don’t think I had to change the coloring much on any of these gifs? Maybe I added in a curve layer here and there, but nothing major! This is really one of my preferred coloring styles, even though I try to step outside of my comfort zones with other sets ^-^

3. Posting

I will always upload sets into my drafts and edit the caption in there as well, clicking on “preview post” a couple times to check everything looks good on my blog as well, before I post a set. However, this time, since there was a deadline and I finished before the deadline, I put this set in the queue so it would automatically post on the 1st of may! Knowing myself, I would’ve forgotten to do so </3

Whew that was... a lot 😭 did it make any sense? Probably not, but it was fun to ramble （ ´∀｀）

I’ll tag

@blinkplnk with this set !

@wuxien with this set !

@wendashanren with this set !

@wanyinxichen with this set !

@yibobibo with this set !

@mylastbraincql with this set !

@sugarbabywenkexing with this set !

@yiling-recesses with this set !

@jiancheng with this set !

Please feel totally free to ignore this if you’ve already been tagged and don’t want to do it again!! <3

#showyourprocess #tag game #this got so long i'm sorry ;-;#very curious to see everyone else's processes!!#thank you for the tag kris <3

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buckys-other-punk · 3 years

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Hold on..THIS IS YOU?!

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Request: where she is a fanfic writer and Sebastian stumbles upon her blog and messaged her as well not letting her know who he was but being an open person she is as to who she was, sending pictures and all, and until one day, decides to meet with her and she is surprised that it was the one she was writing for?

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: fluff, sarcasm (of course) and cussing? i think that’s all

A/N: Hello my lovelies. I am sorry I haven’t been posting as much, but that’s usually how I roll..no jk I legit had no time to write because of my classes this semester, so if this sucks I’m sorry lol. I’m still trying to get back into my writing groove...Also don’t mind my minor mistakes 😅

A/N 2: Anyways I AM BACK AND this is my first request ever!! I’m so excited to write this, I am soo sorry this took forever, but hope I did your request justice and that you like it (and so do others). I feel like I wrote this kinda cheesy, but whatever.

[Y/B/N = your blog name]

As always lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my future works and feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy! <3

Just another normal day without stress and a less anxiety filled world...no, today was actually awful. You were swamped with work and your best friend was complaining about her boyfriend. Let’s just say that the stress she was having with him was making you feel happy that you were single. Trying to relax you heated up some coffee (a/n: or tea) and sat on the couch of your small apartment. Grabbing your laptop you wanted to unwind reading. Probably some fanfics on Tumblr usually does the trick.

After reading some pretty good marvel related fics by your mutuals, you got inspired to write some fics yourself. Opening up a new tab you began writing about your favorite actor, Sebastian Stan. That man literally makes your miserable day a little better. Sadly, like all the girls and women who fantasize over him, he doesn’t know you. But, whatever right? You can always use your imagination and conjure up a make believe world where the two of you are happily engaged and have a German Shepard puppy named Stitch. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you opened another tab on your laptop to pull up your writing playlist, you began typing away on your keyboard writing a new AU where you’re the celebrity of the world you were creating and he was a huge fan of you. After you finished your new fic, you posted that immediately without edits because you were so excited to see people read it.

*across town*

“Have you guys ever read any fanfiction about your characters or yourselves?” the interviewer asked the pair.

“You know I’ve seen a few that were quite impressive. These writers are damn creative.” Anthony replied with a smile. “I will also not lie. I’ve read a few steamy ones and y’all are dirty.” he added with a slight disgusted face shaking his head towards the camera.

“What about you Sebastian? Have you read any?” the interviewer lady asked, looking over to the man.

“Honestly. I haven’t.” Sebastian chuckled looking back at her. “Maybe, if Mackie here finds a good one about me I’ll give it a read.” shrugging towards his friend.

“Oh man, I got a few that are worth reading.” Mackie laughed, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey, might as well share them with the world. Let’s give that writer a shout out!” she exclaimed, placing her notecards on her lap.

“Well, like I’ve said I’ve only read a bit, but I do have some blogs that I’ve saved. Maybe next time I’ll name drop a few and give fans some well deserved praise.” Anthony smiled looking at the two.

“Alright, well you better have a huge list for me.” the lady said with a smile looking at Anthony. “Thank you both again for your time. For everyone watching Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out in March 2021.” She finished off the interview smiling and waving at the camera and the two men followed her actions as well. Once the cameras and mics were turned off the lady came back to the two men.

“Thank you again guys for your time” the lady said to the pair shaking their hands (a/n: ok let's pretend there is no corona in this world so yeah. Everyone is healthy and so is the world!). The two replied with a simple you’re welcome and another thanks in return.

“Wait, have you really read fanfiction before?” Sebastian asked his co-star as the pair walked towards their manager, who was waiting for them outside the room, getting their schedule for the pair’s next interview.

“I mean yeah. I got curious on what people were writing about us and our characters.” Anthony responded with a shrug looking down at his phone.

“Aren’t most of those like fifty shades of grey?” Sebastian asked, staring at his friend as stood near their manager.

“Only if you want them to be..” Mackie stared at his friend with a blank face as they came to an abrupt stop. “Nah man, I’m just playing. Some of them are steamy, others can be sad, like crazy sad and some are like tooth rotting cute. Like I recently read one that was with Captain America and this original character that the author came up with and it made me say ‘aww’ when I finished it. Me. A grown man said ‘aww’ after reading a fanfic. A FANFIC!” he added. Their manager quickly explained their schedule and walked them over to their car to head off to the next location. The two were seated at the back, while their manager sat next to the driver.

“You know what. Send me that story you read.” Sebastian said to Anthony.

“Are you sure Seb?” Anthony asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, why not.” he replied with a shrug. “Might as well read a good story before our next interview.”

“Alright let me send it to you right now. Honestly I think this writer is one of my favorites. I don’t know if it's her writing style or how she portrays our characters, but she’s amazing.” Mackie said with a smile getting the fic he recently read and sending it to his friend.

“So all her stories are good?” Sebastian asked, looking at the notification.

“I just said that she is my favorite writer.” Anthony looked at his friend with a ‘are you serious face.’

“Okay. Okay.” Seb said with his arms up in defense. After a few minutes of reading the fanfic Sebastian actually said ‘aww’ aloud just like Mackie after he first read the story.

“It was good wasn’t it.” Anthony asked with a toothy grin.

“Yeah this was really good. Y/B/N is a pretty good writer.” Sebastian said looking through your feed.

“You should tell her!” Anthony exclaimed.

“What, like make an account?” Seb asked.

“Well yeah, but I mean not your actual name of course. Make a fan account. Show these writers your appreciation, I know that if I were an author I would love that (a/n: wink wink). I’ve messaged a few writers complimenting their work without actually telling them who I am.” Anthony said, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna read more stuff from her before I message her.” Sebastian chuckled. Sebastian clicked onto your main blog page to find that you had just posted a new fic about him. “Wait, dude she just posted a new story...About me!” Sebastian exclaimed, showing his phone to Anthony.

“Nice, but we have to finish these interviews. You gotta read it during your free time man, sorry to crush your dreams.” he chuckled, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. Sebastian sighed and followed his co-stars actions getting out of the car and continuing the rest of his day filled with interviews.

*later that evening*

After the interviews Anthony and Sebastian had dinner together at a fancy restaurant. During their dinner they talked about how crazy some interviews were. Sebastian brought up the subject of how Mackie publicly announced that he had read fanfiction. With that still stuck in his mind the two finished their meal and after parting ways. Sebastian took a cab and arrived at his apartment, changed out of his fancy suit to some comfy clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge. He walked over to his couch turning on the tv, not really paying attention to what was playing, grabbing his phone he opened the tumblr app finally creating an account.

*one week later*

Sebastian has read almost all of your works and texting Anthony almost every time after he has finished a new fic giving his reactions to each. He has liked and reblogged everything he has read from you and other writers, but he favors your stuff the most.

Mackie: dude you should tell her you like her stuff and stop texting me!

Seb: Alright I will, I just don't know what to say.

Mackie: Just say you like her work. It's as simple as that.

Seb: okay okay I will

Mackie: ok good, no stop texting my its legit 2 am

Seb: fine

Sebastian opened up the messaging area of the app and began typing away his appreciation to you. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous after he pressed send. Getting out of the app completely he tried to focus on whatever was playing on the tv. Then all of a sudden he heard a notification go off and his phone light up. Looking down on it he saw that it was a notification from you. Again his nervousness took place as he unlocked his phone to read the notification. The app opened and the direct message filled his phone screen.

(a/n: this is my first time using a fake dm thingy so just imagine that Seb is following you)

Seb: Holy shit dude, she actually replied back to me!

Mackie: Well of course she did, she's not a robot. But maybe she is since she’s up so late...

Seb: shut up and why are you still up? I though you were mad at me for texting you

Mackie: well you woke me up so what am i supposed to do

Seb: whatever I’ll let you go

Mackie: alright. bye lover boy

Sebastian shook his head at the text, he went back to the app to reply back to you. “What should I say?” he said to himself. “Maybe she’s in a different time zone or lives across the world or something… Okay okay. Maybe be chill and say I hope i didn’t wake you? No that sounds weird.” he shook his head trying to come up with something to say. Eventually he fell asleep trying to think of what to say to you.

*the next morning/later that day*

Sebastian woke up with his phone gone from his hand. He quickly got out of his bed in panic to look for it. Maybe you had said something to him or he had said something dumb to you. Once he found his phone he quickly unlocked it to check and thank god he didn’t say anything stupid. But he didn’t say anything. He shook his head clearing his thoughts. “Alright I think I know what to say.”

Y/N’s POV

You woke up to the sound of cars honking, groaning you looked at your clock. “How is it already 10 am?” you said aloud to nobody in particular. You sat up on your bed and grabbed your phone scrolling through various social media apps. At the top of your screen you saw a notification from tumblr. Opening the app to the notifications section, you noticed it was a blog that had messaged you from earlier in the morning.

sebstan_fan: Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Carter. I don’t know where you live, but I just woke up and had a dream about one of your fics. (wow I hope that didn’t sound creepy)

You smiled at the message, since you loved interacting with your followers.

y/b/n: haha its ok. I actually live near New York City and I also woke up. What was your dream about? (if i can ask)

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian had just finished taking a shower and began preparing his late breakfast. “Holy shit she replied again!” he said to himself looking at the message.

sebstan_fan: Wait, you live near NYC! Me too! Wow such a small world. But anyways my dream was honestly just a reenactment of your fic.

y/b/n: that’s so crazy how we live near each other lol. But that's so cool how you dreamt about my work. You must have really liked it.

sebstan_fan: yeah it was really interesting how you wrote such a life like scenario.

y/b/n: thank you Carter <3

sebstan_fan: ok I now this is random, but what’s your favorite place to eat in New York?

y/b/n: ooh that’s tough. Let’s go with Lombardi’s since its the very first pizza place to open in the US

sebstan_fan: oh wow an excellent choice :)

*a couple weeks later*

You and your new tumblr friend have been talking about one another’s favorite hobbies and interests for the past few weeks. You feel like you have grown a new connection with your new friend and telling them about your shitty days at work. Today your best friend wanted to bring you with her and her boyfriend to some fancy restaurant.

y/b/n: Carter, I’m practically third wheeling with her and her boyfriend.

sebstan_fan: well that sounds awful. Where is she taking you?

y/b/n: idk to some fancy restaurant I’ve never heard of. Anyways she’s making me wear fancy clothes, but I just wanna wear my pajamas!

sebstan_fan: y/n come on. you gotta dress nice if other people are dressing nice too

y/b/n: ughh ok I think I found something nice. *sends picture of yourself in an elegant dress* what about this?

Seb’s POV

Sebastian got a glass of water and sat back down on his couch. Unlocking his phone to see the new dm from you he spit his water out of his mouth wetting the coffee table in front of him. “HOLY SHIT SHE’S GORGEOUS!” he yelled aloud staring at his phone in awe of your beauty.

sebstan_fan: Y/N, you look amazing! That dress is literally making you glow!

y/b/n: stop you’re making me blush..my friend just pulled up. I’ll dm you later once this stupid night is over.

sebstan_fan: alright have fun

y/b/n: <3

Sebastian quickly called Mackie to tell him that you sent him a photo of yourself.

“Dude, she is unbelievably gorgeous. I actually spit my water out all over my coffee table when I saw the picture. ” Sebastian said on the phone.

“Man you are so obsessed with her, it's kinda creepy.” Anthony replied through the phone.

“What? No man, we just clicked. We have a bunch in common and she’s really easy to talk to.” Sebastian gushed to his friend.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that you’re lying to her about your real identity. You’re like fucking Superman with a secret persona!” Anthony snickered at the man on the other line.

“Dude no, but I’ll tell her eventually that I’m me.” Seb replied back to Anthony.

“Well you better do it soon because I’m tired of hearing about you gushing over this woman.” Anthony huffed under his breath. “Anyways I gotta go so bye bitch.”

Sebastian laughed at his friend hanging up the phone and heading to his room getting ready for bed. As he laid on his bed he couldn’t take his mind off of you in that dress. You were so open with sharing your life to him, a complete stranger, yet he couldn’t do the same.

*the next day*

y/b/n: Carter! I forgot to dm you once I got home, but that dinner was terrible. I hated every minute of it.

sebstan_fan: what happened? Also good morning :)

y/b/n: good morning, sorry if I woke you. But anyways my best friend and her boyfriend brought some dude to make it a double date and the guy was a complete douche. I couldn’t stand a minute being there.

sebstan_fan: damn I’m sorry to hear that. I bet if I was there with you the night wouldn’t have been so bad haha

y/b/n: creepy..jk But I bet we would have completely ditched my friend and her boyfriend lol

sebstan_fan: wait, I got an idea! I mean since we live around the same area why don’t we meet!

y/b/n: what like in person?

sebstan_fan: no through zoom, yes in person!

y/b/n: wow the sarcasm in this one, but that sounds like a lovely idea. I feel like I already know so much about you tho...

Sebastian huffed under his breath, “not everything.”

sebstan_fan: lol yeah but it’ll be different to meet in person. Anyways where should we meet?

y/b/n: lol that’s true. Well I know this small cafe that’s so cute and I heard they have pretty good pastries. It would be awesome to meet there :D

sebstan_fan: alright how about Saturday afternoon? You don’t have work right?

y/b/n: nope I’m off! but that sounds good to me! I’m so excited and nervous at the same time. Like what if you’re some creepy stalker...

Sebstan_fan: why would you accuse me of such a thing?!

y/b/n: lol you know i’m just messing with you. But I gotta go my friend is now calling me, probably about that douche from last night...but I can’t wait to see you Carter!<3

“Yeah, me too.” Sebastian said to himself smiling.

*Saturday*

You sat at the cafe where you told your new tumblr friend to meet you. You ordered a drink and once it was finished, you grabbed it and sat near the windows saving a seat for Carter. As you waited you pulled out your laptop and began on typing away a new fic idea drawing inspiration from the small cafe and the gloomy weather outside.

“I’m sorry that seat’s taken...” you muttered to a man who pulled out the chain next to you, looking up at the figure. “Holy shit!” you exclaimed to the man who sat next to you.

“Shhhh...Please don’t say anything.” Sebastian whispered to you, sitting on the chair next to you and taking off his sunglasses.

“What? But how? You’re!? I can’t breathe.” you exclaimed erratically looking down at your drink.

“Hey, hey Y/N, just calm down and take slow deep breaths.” he said calmly placing his hand on your back.

“How the fuck do you know my name?!” you exclaimed again staring wide eyed at the actor. “Am I getting pranked or something? Where are the cameras?!” you nervously laughed looking around the empty cafe.

“No, you’re not getting pranked. It’s me Carter…” he said quietly rubbing the back of his head.

“You’re Carter?! I thought you were a girl!” you said looking into the man’s blue eyes.

“I may have lied about who I was, but I wanted to meet you.” he started as he stared down at the ground. “I didn’t want you to freak out knowing that it was actually me.” he said looking back up at you.

“Let me just gather my thoughts for a sec.” you said, putting your hand to your temples.

“Wait, why did you assume I was a girl?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t know! Carter is a unisex name.” you frantically said with a shrug. “And I mean most of my followers are female, so I just assumed you were one too.” you added grabbing your drink and taking a sip to calm your nerves.

“That makes sense I guess.” he said chuckling, looking out the big window of the cafe.

“This is so crazy that you are here. Sitting next to me and talking about my stupid tumblr blog.” you uttered. “Like you’re famous!”

“Yeah so what.” he looked back to you.

“I mean aren’t you busy filming and stuff?” you asked the man.

“Nope, we just wrapped up the interviews a couple of weeks ago. I’m on vacation.” he said with a toothy grin, which made you blush. “Aww look she’s blushing.” he said sweetly towards you.

“Shut up. It’s not like I get to meet my favorite actor who I’ve had a crush on since forever sitting next to me and casually conversing with.” you muttered quickly hoping he didn’t hear your profession of love for him.

“You got a crush on me?” he smiled at you.

“Fuck you. I do not!” you exclaimed looking away from him.

“Aww I think you do.” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Whatever.” you said under your breath trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, I’m in awe too.” he began, which made you look at him. “It’s not like I get to see a beautiful woman who I like.” he smirked at you.

“I think I’m dreaming. Did you just say you like me?!” you asked pinching yourself back into reality.

“I mean yeah. I really like your work as a writer and the past what month we’ve been talking I think you’re a really cool and sweet person.” he said now blushing.

“I bet you say that to all the women you meet.” scoffing at his comment.

“No I’m serious Y/N. I think you’re a really talented writer. And I think you’re also really pretty.” again blushing, but this time he looked straight at you.

“Oh, wow. Thank you so much Sebastian.” you hesitated, your cheeks heating up. “That means a lot coming from you.” you smiled.

“Of course. And also I wanted to ask you in person if after coming clear about who I actually am, if you wanted to go out sometime. I know its weird and all sudden but-”

“Yes!” you exclaimed quickly cutting him off. “I mean. I would love to.” you said more calmly. “God, I’m trying so hard to keep my inner fangirl in.” you huffed under your breath.

Sebastian laughed at your comment and then asked, “Alright then. What about tomorrow I take you out for dinner?”

“That sounds delightful.” you smiled at the man. The two of you fell silent watching the people who passed by the small cafe.

“Oh, but can I ask you one more question? Why are you wearing a hat? And shades earlier? It's legit rainy and cloudy as hell outside.” you asked, looking at the man with your head resting on your hand.

“I’m going incognito. I don’t want my fans to recognize me.” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Are you embarrassed of them seeing you with me?” you hesitantly interrogated.

“No, I just don't want them to interrupt our first date.” he responded with a smirk looking at you.

“Wait, this is a date?!” you exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Only if you want it to be sweetheart.” Sebastian smirked, winking towards you.

“Fuck you.” You said with a smile.

A/N: Yay you finished! Was that good? bad? cheesy? lemme know lol Again if you wanna be tagged in future fics, have any requests or just wanna chat hit me up! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you get excited for more stuff to come.

Tags: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebtheromanianprince @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @princess76179 @anbrax5553 @wintersoldierissucharide @caplanbuckybarnes @miraclesoflove @kitkatd7 @msgreenverse @saiyanprincessswanie @fandomsandxfiles @hailmary-yramliah @coffeebooksandfandom @thefallenbibliophilequote

^please lemme know if you wanna be added to future works or removed for tags^

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian x reader #reader x sebastian #sebastian stan x reader #reader x sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #you x sebastian #sebastian x you #you x sebastian stan #reader insert #sebastian stan fluff

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twilightprince101 · 4 years

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A Tale of Scouts - The Dimensional Drifters

I decided to write a fic for my Dimensional Drifters AU! This can serve as a way to let newcomers know what exactly this AU is all about, but also was just really fun and self indulgent for me to write! It was fun as hell imagining how the different characters interact and banter with each other!

This fic was based off a previous post I made for this AU detailing what the different “roles” of everyone would be, this story centering around the scouts/supply runners. If you have no idea what The Dimensional Drifters, check out the “Dimensional Drifters” tag on my blog or click here to check out the carrd detailing my self ship AU’s!

With that out of the way, I hope y’all enjoy!

Far beyond the Earth that so many have come to know, there is a sea of alternate worlds. Some are akin to our own, sharing similarities in their people and places. Others are a far cry from the mundane, revealing what the world would come to if humanity had never existed. There are worlds that connect to other universes, having their culture carry on through literature, while others are doomed to isolation, forever remaining out of touch with the rest of its ocean. Few worlds contain unfathomable creations that no mortal mind can comprehend. Other worlds can just be a chair in a room.

In one of these worlds, sentient life had never been created. No culture, no humans, no form of sapience whatsoever. In their absence, competition for nutrients was nonexistent, allowing organic life to thrive like never before. Trees that began as young saplings now loomed high above the clouds that once hung over them. Plants intermingled with each other freely and developed hybrids that would be the paradise of gardeners and botanists everywhere. But in this endless forest lies a special type of fruit that grants whoever takes a bite hundreds of centuries worth of flavor (if they’ll forgive the migraines that comes from them).

These fruits -and the favors that come with them- are why four sunset toting scouts are braving the dense thickets of trees once more.

“Come on M.T., better hurry up or else I’ll beat you theeerreeee~”

A purple dragon teased behind him as he soars through the woods, weaving in and around the trees and letting wind graze past his scales. To give his opponent a fighting chance to catch up, the drake bucked up his horns and released a gust from his golden wings, looping around a branch overhead. Although in the past he had trouble with flying on his own, after getting so much training in these different adventures it came as natural as breathing. Checking if his fellow racer had managed to catch up the dragon peered over the sunset fabric tied around his tail, spotting the white blob of fur that was only a short hop behind.

“Oh yeah?! We’ll see about that Spyro!!”

Two iron wires shot out from handheld blasters, embedding themselves in a branch overhead. With a click from the triggers the rope began to zip back into its holster, pulling its wielder upwards along with them. As the Moomin soared over the branch he gave both hooks a yank to pull them from the wood, making sure his trajectory was right as he repositioned himself to fire the next shot. With another blast and pull, Moomintroll was next to and keeping pace with his racing rival, his multicolor neckerchief flapping in the wind.

“Don’t get so cocky just because you have that gear on.” Spyro dipped down to avoid an incoming branch. “Back home I could outrace anything! Dinosaurs, UFO’s, even some of my own elders couldn’t keep up!”

“Oh yeah?” The Moomin shot another hook above and yanked hard, his tail grazing the hardwood before momentum carried him back down. “Well I may not be able to fly like you, but there’s one thing I have you don’t!”

“Really? And just what might that be then?”

With a toothy grin the grappler shot another target overhead, retracting the wire once more to zip over top. Only this time as he ascended, he clenched his toes and activated the triggers in his boots. In the blink of an eye an aqua aura expands from his boots and outlines his body like a glaze. With this new glow, instead of hopping over the next branch, Moomintroll hurdles over it and continues to soar upwards, the laws of physics no longer applying to him.

“VICTORY OVER GRAVITY!!!”

The dragon couldn’t help but laugh along with his fellow scout as he flew higher and higher. It was certainly true, he had him beat in that regard. The gear he requested from Lindar and Hat Kid work amazingly together, especially in Moomintroll’s hands. Spyro could remember overhearing him asking the inventors for the gear, wanting to find ways to keep up with everything else. It’s hard to believe now that the kid he used to constantly protect was able to keep pace with him now. All that practice he’s done has really paid off.

“Keep your eyes on the prize Moomintroll!”

From the branches to the two’s right, a small black and white blur bounced from branch to branch. With each step he took his large eyes peered ahead to calculate the next three, blue eyes scanning every possible route forward. As the blur approached a large gap between two branches, he reached into one of his several pouches and pulled out a smoke bomb, slamming it against the tree as he soared, the small explosion propelling him just the right distance to make it to the other side. Even though his two partners could soar through the air, his prior training as a Phantom Thief allowed him to match their speed just from natural ability alone. Although normally it would be hard to spot him, the twilight bandana around his neck helped make the job easier.

“It may seem fun but this forest is dense. Think of this like driving a car, if you don’t keep your eyes on the road you’ll slam into a tree!” The cat said, only sparing split second glances away from the hurdles ahead.

“Morgana, M.T.’s never driven a car. Forest world, remember?” The dragon couldn’t help himself from spitting out a bit of snark.

“W-well, then,” despite his continued proficiency bounding forward, the cat fumbled for a recovery, “riding a bike then! Or sledding!”

“C’mon, lighten up a bit! This is the first time he can let loose like this while on a mission, plus you’ve practically been working him to the bone with those lessons. Let him have some fun!”

“We both know this isn’t a place where you can let loose Spyro.” one of the weaker branches snapped as the paws left its surface, sinking into the blanket of clouds without any audible sound. “One wrong step and he’ll become a pancake down on the forest floor!”

“It’s okay teach, I think I got the hang of this!” The phantom thief’s view of the purple drake was obscured by snow white fluff as Moomintroll bounded alongside him with the glow still surrounding his form and only taking occasional glances down to his mentor. “I’m doing everything you said. Arms to the sides, knees tucked in and all that stuff!”

“You forgot ‘Always on the lookout.’” Both teacher and student kicked off the side of a towering birch, both giving stylish and acceptable somersaults in the air before landing on the next branch. “This is like a test run before we have you come with us to more dangerous worlds, if we were somewhere like the deep sea woods doing this you’d fly right into the mouth of a giant antler-fish! You need to have situational awareness whenever supply running in places like these.”

“But we’re not, right? We know that there isn’t anything here, just plants! This gives me the perfect opportunity to get used to these in the field! Here, let me show you something I’ve been working on, you’ll love this! It’s really good to get more speed, but also a bit stylish, just like how you do it!”

With those last few words both grappling hooks were upholstered and the blue glow around Moomintroll’s form faded. Before Morgana could even get a word out he kicked away from their shared path and winked to him, then turned his attention to the path ahead. For a few seconds the Moomin just fell, descending closer to the coating of fluff as his eyes scanned ahead. Despite knowing just how dangerous the scout was doing, Morgana and Spyro couldn’t help but just watch, paw lingering over a pouch and body positioned to take a dive at a moment’s notice.

Then in a blink of an eye Moomintroll spotted it, the perfect opening. A single branch that had not a single branch below it. It was time for some fun.

The snow-furred explorer shot another two blasts from his grappling hooks, disabling the boots and letting gravity swing him under the branches like a pendulum. Wind howled in his ears and his scarf flew like a flag in a hurricane. As he reached the swing’s trough and began to rise again, he pulled the triggers on both the hooks and boots, enveloping himself in blue light once more as he rose, the speed from his fall being nothing compared to now. With a leg kick and hard pull both hooks were released and the momentum from the swing sent him rocketing ahead of the entire pack, all three sets of eyes directed on him. One impressed, one nervous, one amused.

“WAAAAAHOOOOOO!!!”

But in his exhilaration, he failed to notice the oak tree branch that he was hurtling towards.

“Moomintroll, watch out!!” Morgana dug into his pouch and pulled out a grappling hook of his own, preparing to fire it at the living projectile before it struck its target. But with how far ahead he was and the speed he was travelling, it would be a one in a million shot-

“Don’t worry your little paws off, I got this!”

A flash of green and black energy shot past the phantom thief, barely missing one of his whiskers and throwing off his rhythm leading him to tumble a bit on the branch as he landed. The shot of raw chi flew faster than a bullet and sliced through the tree’s body like a buzz saw, cleaving it perfectly in two. Gravity did its work quickly and the oak toppled to the side, falling beneath the clouds and down to the depths of the forest below.

But even though the tree was gone, the suddenness and shock caused Moomintroll to lose his rhythm.

“WoahwoahwoAHWOAH!!” M.T. waved his arms and kicked his legs in an attempt to reposition himself. In his panic the triggers for the boots were released and the aura vanished. Reality grabbed the Moomin’s tail and yanked down hard. He still had a hold of the grappling hooks but with how much he was flailing his head spun along with the rest of him. Even if he reactivated the boots he would keep the momentum and crash course through the clouds and down to the ground to become a Moomin panini.

Working fast, Spyro folded his wings inward and dove down beneath his fuzzy friend. With his superior flying skills and weight he managed to dive faster than Moomin flailed, catching him on his back with a huff. He was normally used to lighter people riding his back like the kids, in all of the excitement he forgot that this is his friend’s natural weight. M.T. didn’t take up much space on his back at least, with the drake being about the size of a horse.

“You okay back there bud?” Spyro kept his eyes forward to ensure they didn’t make the same mistake twice. It took a moment for the freefaller to realize he wasn’t doing so. When the dragon didn’t get a response, he made sure his flight path was clear and took a peek behind him.

Moomintroll was unharmed, no problem there. Instead of terror or injury, the mystified teen was staring down into the clouds that grazed his feet. His eyes were filled with galaxies as the nature of the situation dawned on him. He was riding above the clouds on a dragon. An actual real life dragon! This was something he had never even dreamed of doing back home before! Holstering his blasters, he reached down and let his hand comb through the fluff. Water droplets collected on his hands as the white fingers combed through the mist. The two could smell the water in the air. Without saying a word Moomintroll looked at his friend with a grin so innocent and full of childlike wonder it would rival Mustache Girl’s first flight.

The dragon just snorted in return, returning his gaze to their upcoming destination.

“Heads up now and buckle up, we’re going in for a landing!” White fuzzy hands gently wrapped around Spyro’s shoulders as he tilted to the side and let his wings carry the two down to their landing pad: a wide oak treetop decorated in mounds. Although it didn’t seem like much, this little base was their home away from home.

After a slow but steady descent, the two touched down on the bark of their base. Unfortunately before Moomintroll could even get off of his friend he was sniped with a reprimand.

“What did I tell you about being careful?!” With one more smoke bomb propelled launch, Morgana touched down onto their home base right in front of the dragon and Moomin. His eyebrows seemingly spiked downwards from the force of the landing.

“I know this may be fun and all, but you need to keep a grip in these situations! If Spyro hadn’t caught you, you would have been plummeting all the way down to the bottom of these trees, and we all know how big of a fall that is!!” Morgana’s tail is puffed and pointing straight up as he scolds his student.

“S-sorry sir!” Moomintroll instinctively bowed down to his mentor, meeting him at eye level. “T-this has just been the most exciting thing I’ve done! I’ve never been able to keep up with you all, but with these,” he gestures to the boots and grappling guns, “I’m able to stay beside you all and not slow you down!!”

“But still, you could have been seriously hurt! Lindar and Hat Kid made those so you could keep up, not to play around! If you’re going to study under me for phantom thief training, you need to understand that-”

“Aw, c’mon teach, lighten up on the kid will ya?”

A teasing voice from the shadows interrupts Morgana, echoing between the oaks. From one of the higher treetops a slim, feline figure overlooks the three while leaning against the trunk without a care in the world. His hazelnut fur would’ve made him hard to spot if it weren’t for his black and red garb and glowing green eyes. The metal clanked against his body as he shifted, his sunset cloth (wrapped around his shoulder like a bangle) sticking out like a sore thumb.

“You heard him good, right? This is the first time he can run with the big shots instead of hanging back doing paperwork. He’s been looking forward to this forever and was doing well too, what’s wrong with a little slip up?

“Ugh, of course he butts into it.” The small thief groans, not even bothering to look in his direction and wishing he could go back to ten seconds ago when he forgot he existed. Both Moomintroll and Spyro spot him but sport polar opposite reactions. Moomintroll waves up at the figure without a hint of wavering.

“Shu Chi, come on down! We’re gonna take a break before getting more of those fruit things!” The clink of yaoguai armor could be heard.

“Naaaah, I think I’m good up here. Might be good to keep lookout, ya know?”

“There’s nothing in this forest, we’ve already established that a while ago!” Spyro’s tail flicks down and knocks on the ground, creating audible thumps that mix with his yells.

“Well you never know unless you know what you know, ya know? There’s no way we know everything about this world, there might be, oh I dunno, giant woodpeckers to go along with these giant trees! Or maybe even giant beavers that’ll chow us up along with the wood!”

“I think you mean termites-”

“My point still stands!” The yaoguai leans his back against the branch, holding two fingers up to his temple as if he’s making a great deduction. “Might be good for someone to keep an eye out, plus it’s plenty comfy up here! By far one of the best trees I’ve rested in.”

The thief and dragon groan, already fed up with his shenanigans. They’ve been through this routine plenty of times before, they know better than to try and pester him further. Moomintroll, though, does not. Pulling off a backpack he’s kept on him, he takes out a small tupperware filled with a few cubes of yellow, flakey, doughy delight.

“I brought some of Mama’s cornbread if you want some!!”

The spirit’s ears perk up upon hearing the word cornbread, peeking down at the small container. His green eyes stare down at the yellow cubes as he stands perfectly still. When a fanged grin shines from the darkness Shu Chi springs into action, leaping off the edge of the treetop and digging his claws into the bark, slowing his descent while spiraling around the trunk. When he reaches the same level as the rest of his fellow scouts, his entire body glows jade green and he springs from the tree like a baseball pitching machine shooting out a green christmas light. Making sure to do a few flips as he falls, the leopard cat slams down into the tree in a battle-ready crouch.

“We get it, you like to show off.” Spyro rolls his eyes as the glowing light dispels from the yaoguai’s body.

Moomintroll opens up the tupperware for the cornbread and holds it up to the leopard cat who happily reaches in to pull out a slice and take a bite. Shu Chi’s eyebrows slope upward after chewing for a moment, unable to help himself from letting out a “Mmm!” from the taste.

“Yor mofor,” Shu Chi swallows a bite and points down at the Moomin, “makes the best cornbread.”

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Within a handful of minutes the four scouts had settled into their camp away from camp. It wasn’t much overall, only a few chairs surrounding a mound protruding from the tree that acted like a table. Moomintroll went around and passed out the snacks he had packed for everyone, making sure to include a slice of cornbread. He decided to save his own for later though, as a Moomin he didn’t need to eat as often as everyone else.

Shu Chi looked over the edge to do lookout as he said. Whatever it was he was looking out for he didn’t know. While hearing a bit of rustling he took a peek behind him to see what everyone else was up to. Morgana and Moomintroll were making their way over to the mound while pulling rolled up parchments from their bag. Spyro on the other hand gladly munched on a bit of steak while stretching his wings, arching his back like a cat about to pounce. Strategy wasn’t exactly his forte, even back in his own world, so he took the moment to relax.

When the dragon noticed the actual cat eyeing him down, he stood upright and returned his gaze with the same amount of wariness. Neither were exactly sure what they were waiting for, scanning for any move they could make until they couldn’t take anymore. Flicking his head up Spyro tossed the last bit of steak into his mouth and chomped down, not once breaking eye contact. Shu Chi turned back around and took a bite of his sandwich, returning his gaze downwards. The arm that bore his multicolor bandle felt a little tingly so he loosened the fabric a tad.

“Alright, so let’s map out our route.” Morgana spoke between bites of fatty tuna, standing up onto one of the chairs. Moomin nodded, pulling out a rolled up map from his backpack and spreading it out over the mound. The parchment held several crude drawings of trees surrounding a small multicolor circle-their entry point. The drawings seemed intricate at first, meticulous in detail, but the farther away they got from the portal the more messy they became. The outer layer is just a green circle scribbled with big green crayon and the words “IT’S ALL JUST TREES!!!”

“The last few times we’ve been here we’ve had to look for specific trees to get the miracle fruits.” The mapper pulled out a red crayon from his bag (it was the only thing Hat Kid gave him with the map) and pointed to a large pine tree that most likely was drawn in five seconds. “This one right here has been our main supply, but considering we’re getting enough for everyone, it won’t be enough.”

“But we know that there are other trees that have this fruit. The first time we came here and explored the ground level, there were some rotten fruits at the base of trees right by the portal.” Morgana circled around the portal with his paw. “But even though those fruits were there, we haven’t been able to get anything from that tree every time we looked.”

“It could just be because the tree has grown too old. Compared to the rest of them, the bark seemed pretty faded.”

“That doesn’t help us though. What we need is to find trees that are young enough to have ripe fruit.” Morgana pulled away from the map to munch thoughtfully on his snack, hoping that it could stimulate his brain. “Mmm… dogh yogh remumbuh wha thuh othah treesh wahr?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, hang on a second.” The cow/hippo hybrid put crayon to paper, taking a moment to think before marking off different trees with a tick mark. When finished the two stepped back, hoping to find some sort of pattern. There were only about eight tick marks on the entire map of the known forest, all dispersed seemingly randomly. Some trees didn’t have fruit anymore, some they have picked once or twice, but all of them combined wouldn’t give them enough for everyone, not even including the timeframe it would take to reach them all.

“Well we can rule out the trees all spreading out from one source.” Mona sighed in frustration and scratched a bit behind his ear. Moomintroll stared speculatively at the map trying to recall any other instances they had found a miracle fruit. Most they found on the ground was on the verge of decomposing if they weren’t already splattered from the fall. Meanwhile the ones they found on the trees were hidden within the leaves, barely visible to the naked eye. If they wanted to make dinner by tonight, they would need to know which trees to hit and only go for those ones.

“How’s it going over here fellas?”

Both Moomintroll and Morgana jump back a bit from the sudden voice right over their shoulders. Morgana once again groaned at the sight of Yan Shu Chi, leaning on one foot with his elbows stretching above his head. Spyro peeked out from behind him, lowered in a preparatory stance just in case he tried anything funny.

“We’re trying to figure out where we should look for miracle fruits next, Leopard.” Mona spits out the name as if it was a cherry pit. The cat seems unphased, stretching a bit more with his eyes closed. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch like you said you would?”

“Meh, I think you guys might’ve been right, there probably isn’t anything here we need to worry about. Besides…” he winks open an eye down to the Phantom Thief. “From the sound of it you need a bit of help over here, kitten~”

“I am NOT a CAT!!!” Morgana hisses and nearly jumps a foot in the air at Shu Chi, barely even trying to hold back a chuckle at the reaction. “We have been over this SEVERAL TIMES!!! I may look like a cat, but I’m far from a hairball spitting animal like you!”

“Aw come on now boss, you really playing this game again?” Shu Chi itches the bottom of his nose with a finger, still looking down at the scout with only one eye. “Look, I’m just sayin’ there’s no harm in just admitting it.”

“I’ll NEVER admit it!!” Mona hisses once more, catching himself on the end. “B-because there’s nothing TO admit!!!”

“Really doing this now, huh? Here, I’ll spell it out for ya.” The yaoguai approaches the cat once more, lowering his arms and reaching down to the phantom thief.

“We both have pointy ears…” Shu Chi tugs a bit at Morgana’s ears, making him let out a little Mrah!!! While trying to bat his hand away.

“We both have claws…” He pinches Mona’s tiny hands, using a paw to tap on said claws that were peeking through his white fur.

“We both have fluffy tails…” Mona jumps a bit when he feels Shu Chi’s tail patting and lifting up his own.

“And of course, we both irresistibly cute~” Shu Chi holds his chin aloft with his fingers underneath, sticking out his tongue a bit and winking to further prove his point.

“Oh actually, wait a minute… That only really applies to me…” False realization takes over his expression as he taps his chin, then snapping his fingers with a playful glance back down. “Maybe you’re not a cat after all! My bad!”

“HEY!!!” Morgana just jumps even higher in the air with his tail erect like a pole, hissing at the audacity of his fellow scout. The leopard cat doesn’t even try to hide his chortling laughter, successfully pissing off the little cat once more. Moomintroll and Spyro both give each other a glance, one of unease and one of annoyance. They were getting nowhere fast.

“Well are you going to help or not then, mister cat?” Spyro knocked the back of his tail onto the yaoguai’s back, knocking him out of his chortling spree. Waving off his mischief and Mona’s attitude as if it were nothing, Shu Chi mutters “fine, fine mr buzzkill…” and peers over the map. As Morgana’s fur smoothes back down the grin across Shu Chi’s face fades away along with it, his expression turning inquisitive and brows furrowing rigorously. Both paws spread out the drawing as he hunches over to get a closer look.

“Oh, did you figure something out Shu Chi?” Moomintroll unclenches the crayon from his teeth, wiping away a few bits of red wax from his mouth. The yaoguai points a claw at one of the tick marks closest to their current location where the drawings still have a hint of effort.

“This tree right here. Isn’t it that one right over there?” His brown and white tail points off into the distance. After going through the same routine Moomintroll nods. The three could see the wheels turning in the leopard cat’s head, claw tapping on the wood as he stared at the bark. It was only when the tapping could be mistaken for a tap dance troupe that it ceased and his head jerked up. He spun back to the map and snatched it up and paced along the perimeter of the base with his face buried in the parchment of crayon and marker.

“Well? Don’t keep us in suspense, tell us!” Morgana and Moomintroll followed close behind but their ally didn’t give a response, only muttering to himself and pointing in different directions. After walking a third of the treetop’s rim, Shu Chi stops again and looks off into the distance with a squint, blinking a few times to be sure.

“Hey purple pal, c’mere for a sec.” Shu Chi motions the dragon over with a wave of his fingers.

“My name is Spyro.”

“Yeah yeah whatever you say Silo. Can you do me a favor and check out that tree over there?” He lowered down to the dragon’s eye level and pointed off into the distance.

“Umm…. the big tree or the big tree?”

“The big tree. As in,” Shu Chi pressed the dragon’s cheek to his, pointing with a claw directly to where he looked so there would be no mistake. “The tree waaaaaaayyyy back there with a broken branch a little lower towards the clouds.”

Although it took a moment the dragon found the broken branch in question. It must have been over fifty meters away, even Spyro was surprised he was able to spot it.

“Uh huh…” The dragon nudged the cat with his horns to shove him away. “And why exactly should I do that?”

Shu Chi, brimming with confidence, looks down to the dragon with eyebrows raised and a knowing glint in his eyes.

“Humor me.”

Both exchange cold stares with the other. The dragon is well aware of the mischief that the yaoguai brings, he’s seen plenty of it from how much he lies back at camp. A stolen hat from Moominpappa, a few swapped plates in the dining hall; nothing explicitly harmful, but enough to get himself on enough nerves he could make a harp out of them all. For all he knows this could be another elaborate prank, planting something in the tree to get a reaction out of him. But despite all the tail knocks and suspecting glares, Shu Chi’s expression never once changes, unwavering even in the face of a dragon.

After an overexaggerated eye roll and sigh, Spyro spread his wings, hunched down, then let the wind cary his wings as he flew into the distance to follow his ally’s request.

The phantom thief and Moomin rush to where he lifted off to watch as he flies up and away into one of the tree’s leaves. Although initially hesitant about Spyro following the advice of somebody who mocked him moments before, the anticipation began to well up within Morgana right alongside his student. Meanwhile the yaoguai waltzes up behind them, double checking the map to make sure he’s got it right. It was taking a few seconds longer than he expected. Maybe he pointed to the wrong tree? But after his ears catch a far off gasp a wide, toothy grin breaks out across his face.

“JACKPOT!!!”

An explosion of leaves bursts from the distant blur of green vanishing to show a blur of purple and gold. The dragon is brimming with enthusiasm and vitality compared to when he took Shu Chi’s request, his flight path becoming much more wild and varied than his previous straightforward line. He rolled, flipped and spun more than his first ever flight session. Moomintroll and Morgana followed him around the tree as he took a victory lap, all the while Shu Chi rolled up the crayon map and held it on his shoulder like a baseball star.

The reason for such a sudden boost in enthusiasm was clear: in each claw, wrapped in his tail and even perched in his maw was a plump, bright orange, football sized fruit.

After letting go of the edible ambrosia and piling them up, the dragon slammed down so hard that cracks shot out from his landing pad. All three of the starstruck scouts circled around the small treasure trove of spice fruit, marvelling at the horde their friend had brought in.

“There’s a whole bunch of them in there!!! I just grabbed as many as I could, but there must still be around ten of them!” Spyro circled the small pile like a dragon examining its treasure horde, marvelling at its beauty.

“Th-this is amazing!! We’ve only been able to find one or two every time we’ve searched, with this much alone we could get enough for TWO feasts!!!” The small not-a-cat couldn’t control how much his tail was wagging, already salivating at the thought of being able to eat so much.

“Well, minus one.” The leopard cat bent over and picked up one of the five orange footballs, examining four little holes on opposite sides. Spyro wiped away a bit of orange juice from his cheek.

Shu Chi tosses the fruit over his shoulder, not bothering to eat anything that already had teeth sinked into it.

“Thankfully, we should be able to get plenty more where that came from. If we just pick the rest from the tree over there, we’ll be set for the night! Maybe even have a few extra servings cooked up for us as well. I don’t know about you all, but I’d gladly eat an entire pan of that cornbread!” The cat stroked the fur on his chin, dreaming of the mountains of golden, flakey delights he’d get as a reward back home. Moomintroll made a mental note to tell Mama when he got back home as he approached.

“Shu Chi this is amazing!! How did you know so many were in that tree?!” The Moomin bounced on the balls of his feet in front of the yaoguai, eager to know his secrets.

“Hm? Oh, well I didn’t know that this many would be in there, but... “ His head jerked a bit upwards when he spoke-most likely being knocked out of his flakey fantasies-but the spirit gladly smirked and unfurled the map, pointing to the center where actual effort can be seen.

“You see how all these trees here actually have detail? Now, do you see this one here with a few more branches at the bottom than the rest?” A claw points to the single center tree with a tick mark. “Even though the rest after this circle decreases in quality, those kids still went through the effort of drawing every little detail for this group. And as luck would have it,” he points to where Spyro found his treasure trove of miracle fruit, right around where it begins to dip into the layer of clouds, “that one over there has a fair bit of extra stumps on the side, wouldn’t you say?”

The dragon, Moomin and thief all followed Shu Chi’s claw to the jackpot tree once more. It took time for their eyes to adjust, but sure enough there were traces of branches near the base of the clouds. It was too much of a coincidence to be a prank he set up.

“So this whole time… we had it all wrong! There wasn’t any sort of pattern or discoloration, it was just just how many branches there were!!” A small paw paps onto Mona’s head, the realization hitting it harder than an electrified punch from Likulau.

“Yup! That’s right, I managed to figure out something that you didn’t knooowww~” A larger paw paps onto Mona’s head, rubbing the fur hard like an oversized noogie and ruffling it all up, only earning Shu Chi more hisses and growls. “I guess that means the student has become the master, yes? Gotta say, for someone so small I’m worried about you becoming a bit senile.”

“It was only a minor slip up!” Morgana batted away the giant paw, smoothing down the top of his head. “With what little resources we have, it’s only natural we couldn’t figure it out right away.”

“Aw come on now, there’s no shame in admitting you couldn’t do it. I mean if you really are getting too old for this job I can happily take over for you, no questions asked. Wouldn’t it be great to retire on a nice, warm beach somewhere after all your one years of work with us?”

“Oh be quiet you, you’ve been here less time than I have and a year is barely even that long!”

Moomintroll looked back and forth between the two as their tones increased with intensity, thoping he didn’t have to step in. Shu Chi had caused more than his fair share of mischief in the past, but the Scouts had this chaos injected into their lives via daily doses, a full 50 CC’s of mischief and teasing every day. After nearly a year in the group, the Moomin has gained the title of peacemaker by necessity.

Spyro could see the anxiety welling up in his friend. Already antsy, he stepped forward, raising his tail up like a teacher and their ruler.

“For the last time! I’m not OLD, I’m not SENILE, and I’m NOT A CAT!!”

“You sure you don’t wanna take me up on that offer? I have plenty of things I could teach the kid you know. Maybe…” A flash of a toothy smile. “Felinology?”

“Why you lITTLE-”

“Would you two stop bickering already?”

As a paw reached into one of Mona’s tool pouches and swirling energy manifested around Shu Chi’s arm, the golden tip of Spyro’s tail slapped the yaoguai’s hand away like a nunchuck attached to a whip. With a yelp of pain the yaoguai backed off while flicking his hand back and forth to soothe the pain.

“S-spyro-”

“Don’t worry M.T., I’ll handle it.” Although it was meant to be reassuring, Spyro’s glance and nod back didn’t help suppress the feeling in his friend’s stomach.

“Aw c’mon Gyro, I was only ki-”

“Shut your trap already!”

Shu Chi shut his trap already.

“We just found the motherload of spice fruits and know where to look for even more! Both of you remember the first time we ate this stuff, how we almost spent an hour eating these in just tiny bites, can you imagine eating an entire all-you-can-eat buffet with these as the main dish?! If we get all of them from that tree we could be back in an hour! So quit the teasing and arguing and let’s just get going already!”

Spyro stomped right up to the two and got right up in their faces. As he spoke his eyes took periodic glances back at the pile of football fruits. After getting a direct taste from one of those miracle spices himself, it was only natural that they were the main thing on his mind. He must have been holding himself back from gorging the rest of the miracle fruit he had eaten earlier. Although they taste like the heavens, eating an entire fruit so fast would be like chugging a swimming pool’s worth of vodka.

Both Morgana and Spyro locked eyes with their object of annoyance. Shu Chi’s gaze flicked back and forth, not just to their eyes but everywhere else. Mona’s paws lowering to his toolbelt, Spyro’s brows narrowing, Moomintroll’s hand inching forward; he scanned the situation in front of him like a machine looking for errors. The way the cat’s stance shifted ever so slightly didn’t escape the Moomin’s eyes either, knees just barely bent and feet slid around an inch farther apart. It was subtle, precise, muscle memory.

After the leopard was done sizing up the situation, he took a breath and relaxed his stance, showing both of them his back. His tone was lower, more monotone.

“Alright, fine, I got the memo.” Shu Chi walked back to the mound, waving a hand over his shoulder. “You all get back to doing what you were doing, don’t let me keep you.”

“Ah, okay.” Mona scoffed. “Not even gonna help us then.”

“Would you even want me to?”

No words were spoken between the four of them. Although his back was turned to them, the tension still wasn’t lifted. This wasn’t the worst it’s ever gotten between the three of them. At the very least it’s the fastest Shu Chi has ever backed down, Moomintroll was thankful for that at least.

Morgana smoothed down his ruffled fur and hopped off the stump, glancing to the dragon with crossed arms as he tipped his head to the cracks in the tree. He got the message. Moomintroll took a breath as they walked away, unable to tell himself if it was one of relief or exhaustion. Shu Chi looked down into the sea of clouds, paw tapping as both prepared for liftoff. As Spyro spread his wings and Mona kneeled down, the leopard’s ears managed to pick up a faint mumble.

“I told you before, you can’t let him get to you like that.”

Then the two were off once more, flying and bounding from branch to branch as they went off for another trip to the miracle fruit tree.

Moomintroll and Shu Chi were left alone on the tree top, both simply trying to process the events that had just occurred. One didn’t know what to say, the other didn’t want to say anything. The pacifier glanced back at his friends, then to Shu Chi. Even though his face couldn’t be seen, the paws shoved into his armor and mumbling told the story for him.

The yaoguai turned around and walked to the mound where they sat before, spreading out the rolled up map and grabbing a few of the fruits as paperweights. The usual flair and showmanship from before was gone as he carefully examined the parchment, taking note of the different tick marks and the detail of the inner circle. Little white feet stepped closer to him.

“Um, Shu Ch-”

“I’m gonna look around the forest a bit more,” he interrupted, “try and find a few more trees that could have these fruits. Now that we know what these look like, it wouldn’t hurt to know where some more are in the future. Never know when we might have to come back here again.”

Moomintroll just stood in place for a few moments, just watching as he took the red crayon and circled the tree he deduced the pattern from. He unwrapped a few bandages from his arm and held them in his palm to write down any additional differences between the two he didn’t see before. Although the white-fluff mediator felt like Shu Chi was at fault for the teasing, he still felt partially to blame for the argument getting out of hand. Spyro tried to be nice and handle it for him and he appreciated the effort, but he also wished the dragon handled it a bit less harshly.

“I can already tell what you’re thinking,” Moomintroll shut his mouth before a word could even be said, “and let me stop you right there. I know fully well it's my fault we almost started fighting, so you don’t have to give me a speech from the heart about learning when I’m in the wrong or whatever.”

“Th-that wasn’t-”

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I keep forgetting that not everyone here likes my antics. Back home gramps, Kulau and L-they all eventually… got used to me. I can’t help it at times.” The tone of the leopard cat’s voice didn’t change, but he was now leaning in a little closer to his hand to jot down details. Crayon on bandages doesn’t work too well though, especially on a soft surface. “You can tell the guys I said sorry if you want. Doubt they’d believe me, but it’s up to you.”

Moomintroll felt like he was playing tug of war with himself. He wanted to go up to him and say something, but kept holding himself back since he didn’t know if it would be appropriate to do so. Usually whenever Shu Chi got upset, he’d go off and do something for the Drifters as an apology, not wanting to talk about it afterwards. But even still, he could feel that the yaoguai would leave at any moment.

Right as Shu Chi finished with his notes, the Moomin managed to force the words from his throat.

“I-I’m… sorry.”

The cat’s head raised up a bit, fingers hovering over the parchment with the crayon in between them.

“I… I understand how you feel. About not feeling like you fit in here.”

“Kid… you don’t need to-”

“Just listen a bit, please?” Fuzzy feet stepped silently closer on the treetop. “I know you don’t like talking about this stuff, so I’ll just say this and then you can go. Promise.”

A sigh and a clattering of a crayon. Yan Shu Chi returned to stand straight up, head aimed down at the notes he’s written. His ears are pointed backwards.

“Shoot.”

“U-um… back when me, Mamma and Pappa first joined everyone. The world we came from was a lot different from everyone else’s. Nothing much happened, especially compared to everyone else’s. It was so peaceful there, we didn’t have to worry-”

“I’m sorry, but could you get to the point please?” The yaoguai cut him off fast, feeling he was going to be roped into a long winded speech about his home. His manner of speaking had a sense of urgency, of wanting to leave the conversation fast. But there wasn’t malice within it. Moomintroll took another deep breath.

“Everyone treated me like a kid. Moreso than the actual kids there. They’ve been through so much more than us even though I’m much older. I didn’t catch on to some jokes people told, they didn’t understand me when I tried to find good parts to bad situations, I didn’t even know what sarcasm was at first. We never had stuff like that back home. It was just how things were.”

Shu Chi could remember that part well. Lin Hu, Likulau and himself joined a little after the Moomins had. Their nearly always optimistic logic baffled some of them, like the time Likulau and Bubba got into an argument that ended up with a few broken plates. It was after Moominmamma had spent a while making everyone a meal, using some of their own plates to serve people. With so many people from so many worlds, there would clearly be a bit of discord at first.

Although others began to scold both sides after the fight, Mamma just shrugged it off and sweeped up the shards, smiling and talking about how she could use the fragments for decorations. She didn’t blame the two for arguing, saying they both had some pent up feelings and needed to talk it out. Everyone else was dumbstruck, Shu Chi especially.

“But after being part of this group for so long, people are now treating me normally, like I’m part of the team. They got used to the way we act, accepting us as we are. It took some time, sure, but we’re still here. A-and… although I do think you should maybe… not, tease, as much…” Saying those last few words were a struggle on their own, but he swallowed the lump in his throat and forced the last bit out.

“I’m sure people will do the same with you. You deserve to be in this group just as much as everyone else.”

Only the sound of wind rustling the leaves filled the two’s ears for a moment. Moomintroll wasn’t sure if he overstepped his boundaries, he noticed he’s done that quite a bit since joining unfortunately. But no matter what the scout’s reaction was, Moomintroll had managed to tell him his thoughts. As he promised, he wouldn’t try to keep him or talk more than necessary. All he hoped was that Shu Chi understood he meant it.

A shift in Shu Chi’s posture knocked the peacemaker out of his head. The movement was slow and gradual, like a robot swivelling from its spot on the floor. With his unbandaged hand grazing the mound, Moomintroll could see a hint of the yaoguai’s face. He seemed conflicted about what to say, brows furrowed but his mouth not contorting into any sort of frown. It was as if he were still wary of him, wary of everything he said and was struggling just as much as him to force out any words.

With a gulp in his throat and adjusting the sunset bangle a tad, Yan Shu Chi sucked up his feelings and turned to face his fellow drifter, seemingly having made a decision. His eyes held a certain softness to them and the faintest hint of a smile could be seen on his face.

“Yeah…” He nodded a bit. “Yeah. Thanks bud.”

Moomintroll just nodded. That was all he needed to hear.

Shu Chi lifted his bandage notes back up, reminding himself of where exactly he needed to go. A quick glance back to the tree where Spyro found the fruits had Moomintroll spot a bit of movement in the leaves. They would be back soon, and Shu Chi would most likely leave before then. Seeing as he said what he wanted to say-

“Oh!”

Moomintroll’s head popped up, realizing something at the last second. As Shu Chi walked to the rim of the treetop, M.T. rushed over to his backpack that he left by the mound. Right as the leopard cat kneeled down and chi swarmed around his legs, Moomintroll found what he was looking for.

“Shu Chi, wait up a second!”

The cat’s ears perked up, the swirling energy dissipating before it could even be used.

“C’mon kid, I thought you said I could go after that. Going back on your promises isn’t a cool thing to do you know.” The usual mischievousness had returned to his voice as he turned around, hand on his hip as his head bent forwards.

But to his surprise, what he found was a small, flakey, golden cube held up right to his face. The last slice of cornbread.

“Here. As a way of saying thank you. None of us had figured out the pattern with the trees, if you hadn’t helped we probably wouldn’t have been able to figure it out. You deserve it.”

Out of all the things able to make a century old yaoguai speechless, nobody would have expected a simple snack to do the trick.

With a delicate pinch Shu Chi picked up the slice, a few crumbs remaining in the white palm of who offered it. He was half expecting him to ask for it back for a bite since he hadn’t eaten anything yet, but no confirmation for that was given, just a simple smile.

“Keh…” The yaoguai couldn’t hold back a snicker, taking his free paw and ruffling up the top bit of Moomin’s head. He was a bit protestant, but couldn’t resist laughing along with him while gently trying to pat his paw away.

“You’re alright Moomintroll. You’re alright.”

Both sharing a smile together, the two drifters nodded to each other and waved, getting back to what they had came to this world to do. Moomintroll slipped into his boots and put on his grappling hook holsters as Shu Chi scarfed down the corn cube, relishing in its taste. Later that night, he would eat to his heart’s content, perhaps even share a bit with his other scouts. Time would tell by then.

Both approached the rim of the treetop, kneeling down close to each other as their respective auras surrounded their bodies. Right as they were about to leap away, an idea hit Shu Chi.

“Hey Moomintroll, how ‘bout we play a game? You and me.” The mapper’s head perked up, his hands only just reaching down to the holsters. “Whoever comes back to camp with more fruit wins the right to pie the other in the face at dinnertime, flavor of the winner’s choosing. Whadda ya say?”

A wide grin split across the Moomin’s face, his mind racing with possibilities of what to do if he won. With a snicker, Moomintroll holds up both blasters and makes eye contact with his new rival.

“You’re on.”

10 notes · View notes

fragilevixenfic · 5 years

Note

Angst/fluff prompt #42 “You’re always on my mind.”

Tagging @monikafilefan @agntstarbuck223 @reasonandfaithinharmony @karinanic @ficphiles @leiascully @scullyitsme @alllthings-x @allthingsxfiles @kyouryokusenshi @serahsanguine @rationalcashew for the love love love…

Angst/FluffPrompt from @minuete-blog

Title: AdInfinitum

Category: Angst/UST/RST/MSR/Post“The Sixth Extinction II: Amor Fati”

Prompt: 42.“You’re always on my mind.”

Summary: (Post “SixthExtinction II: Amor Fati”) I hate taking too long and this one not only gotaway from me but slapped me upside the head a few times…I hope that it isn’tlost in translation as a result.

What would havehappened if Mulder would have asked Scully to come back when she walked awayoutside his door? Would fate knock a little early? “Ad Infinitum” is Latin for“to infinity” or “forevermore” – Eternal Recurrence is the Nietzsche’s conceptthat with the infinite time and a finite number of events, events will recuragain and again infinitely (over and over), in recurrence.

If loving you

Kills me tonight…

Then I was ready

For death the

Moment you

Said hello…

-R.M.Drake

“And you are mine…”

Affirmation leaned towardconfirmation as confusion laced with buried sadness finally met the kind andcaring hand of comfort as Scully’s lips met the space below the white, meshbandaging against Mulder’s forehead. They were so much more than words oractions as her fingers lingered against his skin, leaving traces of her muted lipbalm on him like she had marked him, silently and invisibly in spite of howeasy it would’ve been to make it painfully obvious to the rest of the world.Breaths collided as she replaced his Yankees cap softly on the top of his head,inviting a tender smile from his lips as their eyes met once more. Mulder felther strength blooming beneath a shroud of resistance as his eyes closed, sweetlycontemplating her, regarding her thumbs as they passed across his mouth. Helistened to her exhale and the taps of her heels as she started to walk away.

Not this time, Scully, I need you to come back to me.

Mulder’smind was still agonizing over the dreams, the sequences of events that had beenplaying out in his brain for days while she searched for the answers in adesperate attempt to save him.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder called outto her as she was nearly to the elevator and watched her come to a stuttered,half-startled stop that sent a chill down the back of his neck.

Hehadn’t looked over at her as the slow, methodical spinning in her heels had himfeeling every little beat of his own heart all the way into his ears as hetilted his head in her direction.

Scully’s tears along the curveof her nose were fresh as she feverishly wiped them and sniffed hard, botheyebrows lifting as she made eye contact from the end of the hall. “Are youokay?”

“You can blame being late on methis time,” Mulder gestured to the doorway with his hand and his head, bitingdown on the corner of his lip as he realized how that must’ve sounded leavinghis mouth at a time like this. “I’ll be fine but I think I just want to sit, inthe quiet, with you for a while?”

Scully’s heels against the floorcoming back to him had a rhythm all of their own that made him swallow hard ashe followed her petite stature from her toes to her eyes, inhaling a necessarybreath as he realized that she had caught him looking. She moved past him inthe doorway, eyes lingering up at him a little longer than necessary as herfingertips brushed against his. They hadn’t intended on making it awkward butit was, in fact, becoming just that as she moved into the unusually brightspace of Mulder’s apartment, her back to the door. The gentle clicking of the latchsliding into place had Scully’s head on a swivel, turning only to meet thealready waiting gaze of the man with something buried in those hazel eyes.

It wasn’t as though there wasn’ta fair amount waiting deep within her own, in all fairness; she was just doinga better job of hiding it than he was.

“You have that look in youreyes, Mulder,” Scully had to break the eye contact and the silence as shecrossed the room first, seeking comfort in the blanket that already had beenbathed in his scent as she slid down on the couch and pulled it onto her lap. “Iknow you and sitting here in silence isn’t your strong suit, especially whenyou keep staring at me the way that you are.”

Mulder hadn’t quite found theurge to move just yet but was content just in taking in the sight of her, surprisedat just how much he needed her to be there, wanted her to stay. “I’m justtaking a lot of comfort in seeing your mouth actually move when I can hear yourwords.”

“I don’t understand,” Scullyfurrowed her brow, looking up at him as he swayed near the door, his hat stillon, the bandage peeking out beneath. “You’re not making any sense, Mulder.”

“It sounded better when I wasthinking it,” Mulder was reticent to move but he bridged the gap and sat down,staring at the pattern on the blanket across her lap, wincing as he removed hiscap. “I spent too long only being able to hear every word in my head, butcouldn’t see mouths moving, mine refused to move. Trapped in my ownbody…trapped upstairs. That’s not a place I really wanted to be stuck foreternity, Scully.”

“I know you’re trying to befunny to lighten the mood but I don’t know if I can fully describe to you howlost I was when I was searching for answers,” Scully folded her hands in herlap, gathering a section of the blanket simply out of nervousness as she staredat the colors as they moved. “Watching you on the monitor when you were losinggrip with reality…hearing my name come out of your mouth like that and thenseeing you take a turn for the worse. I don’t like being helpless when itconcerns you.”

“You were never really helpless,Scully, I hope you know that now,” Mulder let his fingers graze the top of herhand, drawing her attention fully as he cleared his throat. “I heard your voiceabove everyone else’s and I didn’t really know what it meant until I saw you inthat endless loop of a dream when everyone fed me nothing but things that I’vealways thought I —the only one that didn’t lie to me.”

“Mulder,” Scully closed her eyesand felt the raw, brutal stirring in her soul as she sucked another deep breathin before making eye contact with him again. “I had started to face a realitythat you might be gone for good this time and that thought alone of just howclose I came to that fact has kept me awake at night since I found you.”

“You can’t get rid of me thateasily, Scully,” Mulder had a wisecrack hiding up his sleeve in spite of knowingjust how poor the timing might’ve been as she buried her face in her palms andleaned against her elbows.

“You know that’s not funny,” Scullysighed into her hands and pushed her elbows onto her knees, breathing deeplyagainst the space where wrist met palm. “I felt the strength and passion youexude when you run blindly into the darkness to discover answers—all of it tobring you back from what was taking you away from me. There was a time in mylife when I wouldn’t have even fathomed doing that for anyone but I’d do it foryou, without hesitation.”

“I felt every bit of it,Scully,” Mulder didn’t like not being able to see her eyes and know exactlywhere she stood emotionally but he kept going without fully knowing the reachof his words. “You have always been the one to be admired when it came to the conviction,whether it was in science or in family, or in the longshot of God…but Iexperienced the reaches of your faith the moment I could hear your thoughtswhile you weren’t even speaking.”

Scully turned her head, lookingat him through the gaps in her fingers, her eyebrows elevated as she exhaledaudibly. “I certainly hope you couldn’t hear every thought…not all of them hadthe best of intentions for the people who alleged that they were searching forthe best way to treat you.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever takenthat much of a look at my own life from the outside like I did when I couldhear you like that,” Mulder fidgeted and slid to a standing position, leaningagainst the edge of his desk, blocking the light from nearly blinding Scully.“I wouldn’t have guessed that I was held in that high regard by anyone in mylife.”

“It must say a lot about me thatit took you nearly dying for you to find out how I feel—and even knowing thatyou really weren’t supposed to know at all,” Scully swallowed hard and brushedthe hair out of her face as she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed.

“Tofind out what exactly, Scully?” Mulder saw the pain in her eyes mingling withanother emotion that he hadn’t seen gracing her face in such a long time.

“You’rereally going to make me say it out loud just so you can hear it,” Scully’svoice went soft as she looked down at the floor, fixating at the pattern in thewood, gathering the last of her gumption. “You’re always on my mind.”

“Wasthat really so difficult?” Mulder pressed his fingers along the finished top ofhis desk and felt the coolness against his skin as he glanced at her while shemelted against the back of the couch, crossing her legs as though she were nervous.“Or were you just going to go on pretending like today was just another day…onelike any other?”

“I’vegotten really good at pretending not to be consumed by you, Mulder,” Scullyknew she was dead but the image of Diana looming over them had bloomed into aplague of locusts, a cloud ready to devour what remained of her already achingheart. “I knew where I stood and it always felt like it was behind you, neverbeside you…not like she was.”

Thewords stung like a firm slap to the face but not because of any basis in truthas he nearly bit a hole through his bottom lip and stiffened his jaw, gatheringhis bearings. Scully wiped an errant tear, shook her head and stood, searchedhis face for any semblance of movement but only witnessed the flaring of his nostrilsas he closed his eyes. Mulder didn’t know how to tiptoe around the subject buthe also felt more on the topic than his lips were currently willing to divulgeas the woman with the open heart began to stare at him in disbelief. Two stepsforward, four steps back, dance around each other and pretend. It was amutually shared thought for an unspoken fear that lingered in the air of whatwould exist if the ‘what if’ became ‘just be’. This was their version of ‘adinfinitum’ even if they hadn’t meant it to be.

“Ithink you should rest today, Mulder, I need to get going, I’ve got things todo,” Scully wanted to forget the entire exchange and flee as she took anotherstep toward the door while Mulder sucked a breath into his lungs.

“Scully,don’t let this day be any other day,” Mulder had already spent more than enoughtime taming his demons as he felt the bitter, salty sting of tears along hiswaterline. “If you walk out on me now, it’s just another day.”

Scullyturned around and fought the urge to scream at him as she planted her feet andsqueezed a fist to pull back the tears. “Give me one good reason not to just goback to putting on my happy face and play make-believe every day.”

“Thereisn’t a day where you aren’t the first and last person that I think about,Scully,” Mulder had been holding it in as he met her in the archway separatingthe dining area from his living room, his eyes glassed over from the readiedtears as he folded his hands over hers. “I know you think you have to compareyourself but there’s a reason I reached for you—there’s a reason it was alwaysyour name I shouted for. It’s always been you.”

Scullypressed her lips together and blinked another stray tear into fruition, thepath of which led along the curve of her cheek as she looked up at him. “How areyou standing here making it seem like it’s so easy?”

“Itisn’t easy, Scully, and it isn’t supposed to be,” Mulder wiped the tear beforeit met the edge of her jaw, allowing his fingers to linger against her cheek,caressing that spot until her eyes softened. “I don’t want to continue walkinginto every room each day wondering if today is the day you’re putting on a maskin front of me. Full disclosure.”

Mulderhad seen that look on her face once before and had to journey to the end of theearth to get her back but that wasn’t going to be their fate this time as heslipped his fingers along the curve of her collar until he met skin. It was asimple, halfway moronic level reassurance but Mulder didn’t care, not thistime. Scully held her breath and stared at the buttons of his shirt as theypeeked out along the sides of his tie that still hung untied along his chest,watching him as his chest moved with every breath. Scully had been waiting foranother moment like this as she wrapped her arms around him, lacing her fingerstogether at the middle of his back until the distance had fully eclipsed. Itwas comforting and once out of reach as Mulder gathered her in an embrace untilhe felt every last muscle melt against his frame, into his care.

Untilhe could hear the soft, melodic sigh leave her lips and reverberate against hischest.

“Wheredo we go from here, Mulder?” Scully’s question could’ve been taken in amultitude of ways as Mulder’s lips rested against the top of her head and hisfingers gathered along the back of her head.

Mulderknew that his painkiller would be wearing off soon but he didn’t care as hetook the smallest of steps back, tilted her chin and let his mouth find hersfor the briefest of moments, almost like an introduction before letting ananswer out. “There’s this really amazing diner that serves breakfast all daylong—that sounds like a really good start to me.”

Scullygazed up at him and reached for the end of his tie, pulling it free from hiscollar in a soft, fluid motion with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.“Put your hat on, then…you don’t need your tie to go to breakfast.”

#MSR #msr fanfic #fanfic #angst/fluff prompt #writing #mulder and scully #the x files #the x files fanfic

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let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Rising from the Ashes (13/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones.

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Hey, hey, hey! I’m back in my regular timezone with access to my laptop and a bed that’s my own which means new chapters without funky formatting and wrong links! I hope everyone enjoyed those fluffy Christmas chapters! We’re kind of moving into the second half of the story now, so things will start happening soon! ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Tag list: @jamif @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64

The New Year begins without much fanfare. The day after Christmas, Killian and Neal go back to work while Liam and Belle fly home to England in what has to be one of the most emotional goodbyes that she’s felt in all of her time in knowing them. The house definitely feels emptier after a week full of life, but it also gives her a few days to calm down and start preparing for her to officially go back to work and not just communicate with her students through email. She’s nervous for her first day back with students roaming the halls instead of teacher work days where the school feels empty, and it’s kind of weird. She’s been at Greely for three years, and even with the partial semester that she just took off that was a combination of maternity leave and “ex-husband coming back from the dead” leave, she’s always felt comfortable there. It’s a good public school, well-funded, and she likes most of the teachers and administrative staff.

She’s made some of her closest friends there, mostly Ruby, and she finds that her lunch breaks are often spent in the art room eating with Ruby instead of sitting in her office or the cafeteria. She’s missed Ruby over the last few months. Usually they keep in better touch, sometimes going out to dinner, but she’s dropped the ball. Ruby has understood and given her space, but for all the reasons she’s looking forward to going back to work, having a normal social life again is definitely still near the top of the list.

And getting to do things other than watching her children and cleaning the house or taking down Christmas decorations despite all of Henry’s protests. She doesn’t mind. This is her life, and she wants to take care of Henry and Ada. She’s their mom, and it’s something she’s always wanted. She simply wants more.

So naturally, she goes from taking care of her own kids to taking care of other people’s grown kids.

But she wants a schedule again, wants to get up and be productive, wants to have her paycheck again, wants to feel like she’s making a difference.

She wants every bit of normalcy that she’s been craving since that morning in September when she passed out on the kitchen floor because Henry told her that Neal was alive.

Talk about a morning.

Throughout her life, she’s never been one to believe in star signs or that a new calendar year means anything, but now, for the first time, a new year might mean a new beginning for her and for her family. She hopes that the new beginning is a good one because even though things are good now, she understands that with everything happening, it’s likely that things will get a bit complicated.

Okay, that’s a lie. Things are definitely going to get more complicated, but she hopes that it’s a good kind of complicated and not one that’s going to bring her enough stress to age her a good five years when she was kind of hoping she could avoid some more wrinkles for a little bit more time. Or gray hairs. She’s not looking forward to those for her.

(Killian isn’t either, but that’s because she found one gray hair on his head. He was not at all happy about it. She thought it was kind of adorable. Or sexy. She told him it was sexy and not adorable. He’s a confident man, but sometimes she has to stroke his ego, amongst other things.)

But she thinks it’s going to happen, and it’s most likely going to be caused by the constant push and pull that is having Neal back in her life.

Neal has been offered a job in DC. Like, officially. She knew that it was a possibility, especially with the time that he’s been spending there still working with the Marines, but when he told her that he was offered a job at the State Department to work with arms control and regulation, she was surprised. He says that it’s not the position that he wants, that he might see if he can find something else with his connections he now has because of everything that’s happened, but that this is a good step in the door. She’s proud of him, proud that he’s going after what he wants in life, but like she thought before when they’d talked about this, it breaks her heart the slightest bit.

Why doesn’t he want to stay?

Why doesn’t he want to stay in town with Henry?

Shouldn’t he want that after missing so much of his life?

She and Neal are definitely forming a new kind of friendship that will make her miss him, but mostly, she’s worried about their son. It’s not a super short flight to DC, and she’s not sending her eight-year-old on a flight by himself, no matter what procedures there are for unaccompanied minors. That’s not happening. And it’s not like he can simply go see his dad on the weekends without there being a conflict with them or with Henry’s soccer games. She doesn’t know when Henry would see Neal, and she doesn’t care if it’s selfish, but Henry isn’t spending his summers or holidays away from her. She’s been with him for his entire life, and she’s not sure how she’s going to handle any of this, especially if things rapidly tumble down a hill into a nasty custody battle.

That’s not going to happen. Neal wouldn’t do that to her. She’s overreacting. He would never try to take Henry away from her. That much she knows, even if it takes constant reminding.

Besides, they’re making arrangements to all travel to DC in March during Henry’s spring break to show him around where they all used to live and to let him see where his dad might live now.

Making that one vacation with all of them going is complicated enough. Custody battles would be worse.

Custody battles aren’t happening, she reminds herself. This is her anxiety over more changes when she’s trying to get back to normal again talking to her.

She’s never been great with change. She thinks it’s a foster kid thing because of all of the uncertainty of how long she’d be in a house or if the parents would be nice. It’s…a lot. She doesn’t really like to think about it anymore.

It doesn’t help, or hopefully it will help, that she and Killian just found a therapist for Henry, a nice middle-aged man named Archie Hopper. He’s kind, accomplished, and during their test visit last week, Henry really seemed to like him. That’s important to her. If they’re going to have their kid talking to someone about his feelings, talking to someone who might help develop him and how he thinks, it needs to be someone Henry likes. Therapy needs to be a good thing for him and not something that causes him any stress or worries.

Therapy might be causing her some stress.

She needs to find herself a therapist. Maybe someone will give them a group rate for most of the family going.

That’s kind of a sadistic joke.

She makes those.

“Swan,” Killian calls as he steps into the bathroom, Ada squirming in his arms enough that she can see how tightly Killian is holding onto her to keep her from falling, “you guys have to leave in twenty minutes, and she’s hungry. Do you want to feed her or should I get the bottle?”

She hesitates, not entirely sure of her answer. She still needs to eat breakfast and finish putting on her mascara, but she also wants to spend a little more time with Ada. Only a little part of her denies that she’s sentimental, but she won’t deny how upset she is to have to leave Ada at a daycare today. Going back to work is most definitely a good thing, but it’s coming with its own challenges.

Leaving her baby…that’s one of them.

“I’ll feed her. Just grab me the chair from the bedroom and I’ll finish getting ready.”

“Are you sure, love? I can – ”

“I need the time,” she admits, glancing up at Killian’s eyes before walking over and taking Ada out of his arms. “And I can multitask or whatever.”

“Aye, wonder woman.”

“Just without the costume.”

He waggles his brows across his forehead, and she knows what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth. “That can be arranged.”

She snorts, actually snorts. “Go get me the chair and then make sure Henry has brushed his teeth, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her eyes roll a bit at that, and she leans down to kiss Ada’s head. “Your daddy is the most ridiculous man in the entire world.”

“I can hear you.”

“I know.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but she does get around to feeding Ada while also finishing getting ready for work. She really needs coffee, but she’ll have to get some once she’s at school. If she were to drink it right now, she’d basically be a livewire.

“You look pretty, Mom,” Henry tells her when she walks downstairs, the heels of her boots clicking against the wood.

“Thanks, kid. Did your daddy tell you to say that?”

“No.” She raises a brow at him, and his face immediately shifts from neutral to giddy, a giant grin forming on his lips. “Yes.”

“I did no such thing,” Killian scoffs, playfully elbowing Henry in the side. “How could this kid not want to compliment how pretty his mum is?”

“Because Henry doesn’t give many compliments before eight in the morning.” She takes the few steps over to Henry and leans down to kiss his forehead while Ada continues to pull at the threads of her sweater. “Thank you, baby. You look extra handsome for your first day back at school. Are you excited?”

“Kind of, but I don’t want to call Mary Margaret Mrs. Nolan again. That’s weird.”

“It’s only when she’s your teacher that you have to do that. When you’re out of the third grade, you can go back to calling her Mary Margaret.”

“I’m going to be in third grade forever.”

“I bloody well hope not,” Killian laughs, looking up at her and winking. “What would happen if you were still in third grade by the time your sister got there? You’d want to be in the same class as your sister?”

Henry shrugs and takes another bite of the apple Killian must have cut up for him. “I bet I could teach her a lot of things.”

“You could teach her more if you keep learning in school,” she prods, swiping an apple slice from his plate. “Speaking of that, are you ready to go?”

“Can I bring my book with me?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to keep it with me in the car, okay?”

“You’re going to pick me up from school, right?”

“Mary Margaret is going to walk you over to my building like we used to do.”

Henry nods his head and goes back to eating his breakfast, stuffing it all in his face far too quickly, while she gets up off of her stool and hugs Ada as much as she can, smattering kisses all across her face. “Be good for Ashley at nursery today, bug,” she whispers, rocking her the slightest bit. “I love you so much, and I will be there to pick you up as soon as I can be.”

Ada babbles something back, her little brain not ready to say anything even though she’s definitely trying her hardest. God, she loves this kid a ridiculous amount. The apple-eating one too.

“Do you want to hand her off to me?” Killian asks gently, reaching over to her and tucking her hair behind her ear. “I promise I don’t bite unless otherwise asked.”

“You’re very cheeky this morning.”

“I had some fantastic adult time last night.”

“You’re the actual worst.”

“I would debate that.”

“Of course you would.”

“And I’d win.”

“Never.”

“Always.”

“Mom, I thought you said we had to go,” Henry whines, coming up to her with his coat and backpack already on, his notebook in his hands.

“We do, we do,” she promises, stepping closer to Killian and quickly brushing her lips over his, her boots only making her press up on her toes a little bit to reach him. “Bye, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She moves to take a step away, and Killian’s hand stops her, keeping her right in front of him. “You have to give me Ada.”

“Really? Are you sure I can’t take her with me? I think she’d fit in well with all of those giant high schoolers.”

“Darling – ”

“I know,” she sighs, dipping her head down to kiss Ada’s hair again. “I love you, bug.”

“She loves you too,” Killian tells her, taking Ada out of her arms and holding her close to his chest. “You’re going to have a good day. Call me at lunch, okay?”

She nods her head and kisses his cheek once more before she’s grabbing her purse and ushering Henry out of the door. She hears the wails the moment the door is closed, and it breaks her heart that little bit more. It’ll stop soon. The separation anxiety will calm down, but then Ada is going to have to go through it all over again when Killian drops her off at her daycare on his way to taking he and Neal to work.

Sometimes all she wants is time by herself to be an adult and have conversations with other adults, but then something like this happens and all she wants is to spend her day with her kid.

“We’re going to be late if you stand there for too long.”

A laugh passes through her lips, and she takes a deep breath before stepping forward and leaning down to smother Henry with as many kisses as she can before he moves away from her. He’s much more difficult to be affectionate with than the kid who can’t even walk yet. “I love you even if you are far too much like your daddy with you telling me we’re going to be late like that.”

“You’re always telling me to hurry up so we can’t be late.”

“That’s true, kid. Let’s get us to school.”

-/-

“So,” Ruby starts as she comes into Emma’s office without knocking, plopping down in one of her extra chairs, “how’s life with baby daddy number one and baby daddy number two? That’s a lot of sexual energy in one house.”

“I cannot believe you educate kids.”

“I’m an art teacher, thank you very much,” she scoffs, holding up her paint covered hands. “I get to be eccentric. Besides, Mills doesn’t pay me any attention. I tell her that the red streaks in my hair are from a project in class.”

“And she believes that?”

“No. She just doesn’t care about me. Just like I don’t care about me. I need to know more about the baby daddy situation. My life is boring, and yours is full of intrigue.”

Her shoulders sag forward before she rolls them back, clicking save on one of her student’s files. She needs to talk to Felix about his late applications tomorrow.

“There’s not much to say,” she admits, and when Ruby’s eyebrows go up to her hairline, she continues, “anymore. I’m still with Killian. Neal is living in our house and working. He’s thinking about moving to DC, which is a whole other can of worms that I’m trying to get him to think through for at least another month or so.”

“You want him to stay? Isn’t that confusing? Like, emotionally?”

“Mostly for Henry. I don’t want his dad to leave him again. Remind me and you can come over for dinner because you have to see how much that kid loves Neal.”

“I mean, his dad is like this badass war hero. What more could an eight-year-old want? That’s about as close to a superhero as he can get.”

“True,” she laughs, reaching down to take a sip of her water while she lets all of that settle in. Technically both of his dads are badass war heroes, but Killian doesn’t like to talk about it too much. It’s all about personal preference, and Neal has decided being a public face of life after war is something that he wants to help others. It’s good for him. “But yeah, we’re all good. I’m happy to be back at work, to see you. Life hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Girl, let me tell you, it has been so boring without you. I’ve been switching around who I sit with at lunch, and the teachers here are definitely in cliques just like that kids.”

“Did you try sitting with the advanced math teachers?”

“Yes,” she groans, slapping her hands against her thighs. “They were so obnoxious.”

Ruby can only stay for ten more minutes before she has to go teach a class, and the rest of the day seems to fly by as she finishes catching up on the things she didn’t get to on the work days she had before the official start of school today. In the back of her mind she knows that it’s nearly time for school to be released, but it doesn’t keep her from jumping when she hears the bell. It also doesn’t keep her from being surprised when Mary Margaret shows up in her office with Leo and Henry trailing just behind her, their eyes wandering around the room like the high school is some kind of magical place.

Maybe it is when everyone is several feet taller than you.

“Hey, kid,” she greets, smiling at him from her desk, “how was school? Did you learn a bunch of cool stuff?”

Henry nods his head before scurrying over to her and cupping his hands against her ear. “It was boring, but I can’t say that with Mary Margaret right there.”

She laughs. She can’t help it. Henry should not be saying that, but it’s kind of delightful that he is.

“It was not boring,” Mary Margaret protests, sitting down in a chair.

“You’re kind of boring, Mom,” Leo adds in as he searches through her bowl of candy, holding up a peppermint in silent question to his mom. “Dad’s job is cooler.”

“Your dad spends his entire day sitting at a computer.”

“But he catches bad guys.”

“He makes a good point, Marg,” she laughs, handing Henry her water bottle since he’s been eyeing it. “I mean, I personally think we’re pretty cool, but David is a detective who solves mysteries.”

“And he’s only able to solve those mysteries because he had good teachers in school.”

“Did you have a good day, Leo?” she asks, trying to change the subject before Mary Margaret goes off on a tangent about how teaching is cool (it is) that turns the kids off of it for life. They’ll understand when they’re older. “I heard that you guys are doing obstacle courses in gym.”

“Oh my gosh,” he gasps, the excitement practically rolling off of him as he presses up on his toes and leans over the desk, nearly knocking things over. “It is so awesome. I get to climb a wall and then hang off of monkey bars. And Lawrence told me to imagine that the floor is like lava so we can’t let go.”

“Did you make it all the way across?”

“You bet I did.”

“Alright,” she laughs, holding up his hand and giving him a high five. “Did you get to do the obstacle course, Henry?”

“No,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “We don’t get to do it until Wednesday.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that’s only two days away from now.”

She lets Mary Margaret and Leo go so that Leo can go to his karate lesson (they kid may be playing every possible sport at the moment), and after she finishes up her last few things and grabs a folder of paperwork to shift through at home, she takes Henry to go pick Ada up from daycare. Whatever breath she’s been holding all day is released the moment her girl is back in her arms looking just as she did this morning. Ashley says that she did just great, even if she did cry for a long time when Killian left her, and while she doesn’t love that, it’s over for today.

But they’ll do it all over again tomorrow.

And they do.

Slowly but surely their routine settles back into how it used to be, even with the changes of the two new people in the house, and she gets used to being back at work after about a week and a half. The shiny newness has worn off, and even though she still loves it, around two she usually needs some coffee to help her make it through the rest of the afternoon. Coffee is pretty much her lifesaver.

On the last Wednesday of January, she’s sitting in the lobby of Dr. Hopper’s office with Ada in her car seat next to her when her phone buzzes with a text.

David: Mom, because she is apparently incapable of texting you herself, wants to know if you guys are still coming to dinner tonight.

Emma: We’re still coming! Neal is going to dinner with some of his coworkers. I think they go to a bar or something every Wednesday.

David: Okay! See you then.

David: Wednesdays are the nights most college kids go out. We get so many drunk and disorderly calls.

Emma: Why Wednesdays?

David: Oh come on, don’t you remember? Late classes on Thurdays usually, so everyone can show up hungover. You’re younger than me kid. You’re not supposed to have forgotten these things.

Emma: Forgive me for not being as wild in college as you were with your long hair.

David: I hate that Mom gave you those pictures when she was trying to make you feel at home.

Emma: I love them. You were a very handsome grungy 90’s man.

David: I will burn them all.

Emma: Arson, detective Nolan.

“Miss Swan,” Dr. Hopper says as he and Henry come out of his office, Henry trailing behind him with his hands stuffed in his coat pocket, “how are you today?”

“I’m good,” she promises, putting her phone in her back pocket and getting up to shake his hand since she didn’t get to when she dropped Henry off. “How are you?”

“Just wonderful. I’ll see you and Henry next week at five, right?”

“His dad might bring him to his session next week.”

“His father or – ”

“Killian,” she explains, knowing that it’s easier to say his name when talking to other people. It’s going to be even more confusing when he decides to that he’s too old to call Killian daddy anymore. He’s already switching back between ‘Mom’ and ‘Momma’ for her. “I’ve got to take the baby for a checkup.”

“Well I look forward to seeing him then. Henry, I’ll see you next week, okay?”

“Okay,” Henry smiles, reaching up to high five doctor Hopper. “Thanks for the candy.”

“No problem. Goodbye,” Dr. Hopper starts before she stops him, grabbing onto his arm. “Yes, Miss Swan?”

“Do you have the list of therapists that you were going to recommend for me?”

He smiles and nods his head up and down. “Ah, yes. Let me go get it from my office. Just a moment.”

“Why can’t you talk to Dr. Hopper like I do?” Henry questions, picking up Ada’s stuffed giraffe out of her seat. “He’s really nice.”

She squats down in front of Henry so that they’re eye level and reaches up to brush his hair out of his face. He needs to get it cut. “Dr. Hopper is really nice, but I have to talk to someone else like your dad does because Dr. Hopper is good at talking to kids like you.”

“Kind of like how you’re good with talking to the high schoolers?”

“Exactly like that.”

Dr. Hopper comes back in the room and hands her an envelope full of his recommendations, and she takes it. Neal had said she could always go to his therapist, especially since they’re all in the same building, but it doesn’t feel right to be going to the same person, even if that person would likely very intimately know all of the issues in their family. So she’ll try some of these people out.

Grabbing Ada’s car seat, she takes she and Henry out to the car, buckling them in and driving to West End to go to Ruth’s house for dinner. It’s always weird coming back here to the home that was her, well, first real home, and even though some of the rooms hold a hell of a lot of bad memories for her, they’ve been replaced with some good ones of Henry swinging on the playset and Killian meeting her mom for the first time.

-/-

“Your bedroom is very pink, Swan,” Killian teases her, running his hand over the floral bedspread while she is silently thankful that she was never too sentimental as a teenager and didn’t decorate her room with pictures of Justin Timberlake on the walls. Killian would literally never let that go.

“I did not decorate this place,” she insists, sitting down on her bed, the old springs creaking the slightest bit. “Ruth made it super bright and overly cheerly because she asked Mary Margaret for advice on how to make me more comfortable before I moved in.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

Killian clicks his tongue and reaches up to scratch behind his ear, his hair flopping over his forehead and curling at the ends. “Well, it seems to me that you sister-in-law, from the few times I’ve spoken to her, doesn’t exactly share the same tastes as you in things.”

“Some things overlap,” she admits, stretching out on the mattress and looking up at the ceiling. She used to count the patterns up there to fall asleep at night, and when that didn’t work, she’d sit on the window seat and look at the houses across the street. “And I do love her, even if it took some time for she and David to grow on me.”

“Please, don’t act like you and David weren’t always peas in a pod.”

“We weren’t,” she protests, propping herself up on her elbows and watching as Killian goes through the few books that are on the shelf. “David is, you know, up there closer to your age.” Killian doesn’t have to turn around for her know that he’s rolling his eyes. “And we didn’t really get along until I was seventeen and had snuck out of the house to meet with a guy who left me at a house party. I needed a ride home and was too scared to call Ruth.”

“So you called David, and he saved the day,” Killian finishes for her, stepping over to her and sitting on the edge of the mattress. “And thus started a friendship for the ages.”

“Pretty much,” she laughs.

Killian reaches back to tap at her stomach, nudging her and tickling her while she laughs. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of that guy to leave you at a party.”

“He was seventeen. Most of them aren’t gentleman. I’m sure you weren’t.”

Killian huffs, the displeasure obvious in his voice, and before she can say something else he’s shifting on the bed and caging her in, their bodies tightly pressed together while their lips hover just over each other. She can feel the warmth of his breath and see the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

“I am always a gentleman.”

“I know for a fact that’s not true. You’re pretty much a scoundrel.”

“A handsome one though.”

“Very,” she promises, reaching up to tangle her fingers through her hair while their lips slide over the other. He tastes a little bit like the tea he was drinking on the car ride over her, and even though she doesn’t like that tea, she doesn’t really care, especially because this makes her feel like a teenager…in all of the good ways.

“A handsome scoundrel and gentleman. That’s what I say on my business cards.”

“Shut up.” “Emma,” her mom calls, and she can practically feel his entire body tense over hers, “stop kissing your boyfriend and come eat your birthday dinner.” “I don’t know about you, Swan, but that made me feel rather young.”

It’s kind of like all of her worlds colliding sitting at a dinner table wither her mom, her brother, her sister-in-law, her son, and her boyfriend, but it’s nice. It’s nice that they all get along, that Killian feels comfortable to tease David and to compliment Ruth’s cooking and her stories about Emma and David when they were younger. He’s being the charming boyfriend that he always is, but she can tell that he’s a little nervous with the extra flattery and the tapping of his foot underneath the table. Killian isn’t really one to get nervous, so her heart kind of swells that he’s like this to meet her mom.

She was a mess when she met Liam, and they weren’t even dating then.

“Emma, will you come help me get your cake out of the fridge?”

“Sure,” she answers, sliding back in her chair, squeezing Killian’s shoulder. “Henry, you have to finish those green beans if you want this cake.”

“Really?”

“Really, they better be gone by the time that I get back.”

Henry groans, but she hears it stop as Killian says something to him, probably weaving some great tale to get Henry to eat his vegetables, and she can’t hide the smile that’s tugging up at the corner of her lips.

“He’s so handsome,” Ruth announces, and Emma practically jumps out of her skin.

“Holy crap,” she gasps, her heart beating a mile a minute in her chest. She has to press her hand over her heart while she tries to regulate her breathing. “Why’d you scare me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to, sweetie,” Ruth promises as she gets the cake out of the fridge all on her own. Why the hell did she think that her mom actually needed help getting the cake? That was obviously a bad excuse. “I was trying to talk to you about Killian. I love him.”

“I do too,” she admits, her heart beating quickly for an entirely different reason. “He’s nervous to meet you.” “Really? That man is nervous?”

She shrugs, her smile still on her lips. “I mean, yeah. He’s met David and Marg, but you’re the big fish.”

“And he’s also the first man you’ve brought home since Neal. Those are big shoes to fill.”

“Mom,” she starts, watching her place the candles in the cake, “that’s not what’s happening. He’s not…it’s different.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean it that way. It was difficult for me after David’s father died, but I was so much older. I wasn’t young like you with a baby. You were obviously going to date again. I didn’t mean – I didn’t mean that you were replacing Neal.”

“It’s fine,” she promises, reaching over to help light the candles to her birth cake, all twenty seven of them on there even if that’s far too many for one cake. “Let’s go see how much of this cake Henry is going to try to eat before we stop him.”

-/-

“Hello, my darlings,” Ruth sighs as they all walk into the door, hugging Henry before she hugs Emma. “I have missed you.”

“I saw you on Saturday, Grandma.”

“Well it doesn’t mean I haven’t missed you.”

“I missed you too. Can I go play with Wilby?”

“He’s in my bedroom.”

Henry runs through the back hallways, his coat flapping behind him, and she can do nothing more than shake her head back and forth at how much energy that kid has.

“Is Killian already here?” she asks Ruth, putting her purse down on the floor. “I know he said he was already on his way, but I haven’t checked my phone.” “He’s in the living room. We were sharing a cup of tea.”

“Of course you were,” she laughs, wrapping her arm around her mom’s waist as they walk through the halls to get to the living room. “How has your day been? How was that case going with the girl whose parents died?”

“My day was good, better now that my babies are here, but the case was hard. I think I’ve found a good foster home for her, though. You remember the Darlings?”

“Of course I do. They led me to you.”

Ruth doesn’t say anything else, just pats her on the back before taking Ada out of her arms and carrying her into the living room where Killian is messing with his phone. This place is covered with toys for infants and for ten-year-olds, and the moment Ruth puts Ada on the ground, she crawls over to a giant colorful keyboard that they also have at home. It’s been her favorite thing recently, and she’s not sure if she prefers the sound of it or the sound of Ada hitting pots and pans. She likes to really bang on them, and whenever there’s a particularly loud noise, her nose squishes into her face as it scrunches up while she laughs.

The little menace.

“Hey, handsome,” she gushes, dipping down to press her lips against his, lingering a little longer than she should. “Did you have a good day?”

“I had a day,” he chuckles awkwardly, kissing her again before she sits down on the couch next to him, their thighs pressing together. “Rob’s computer lost some data we had been working on, so I spent the day first trying to get IT to restore it and when that didn’t work, we had to try to replot all of our arguments.”

“Did you guys have a breach? Isn’t that a big deal?”

“Wasn’t a breach,” Killian sighs, reaching down to tickle Ada on the back while she pounds on the keys. “It was a computer failure. I’m sure Rob will have to undergo an investigation for it even though what we were doing was technically hypothetical, but as you know – ”

“- it’s never hypothetical,” she finishes for him.

“Pretty much. What about you?”

“Boring.”

“Yeah? No kids had a meltdown or forgot to turn in all of their applications?”

“Well that happens every day,” she laughs. It really does. It’s part of her life.

She likes it.

Ada slams down on a key, letting out a giggle, at the same time that David and Mary Margaret walk in the room.

“Woah, woah, woah,” David begins, reaching down and picking Ada up before blowing a giant raspberry on her stomach. “I didn’t know we had Mozart in the room. I would have worn my best suit.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but your suit is awful dingy, Dave.”

“Shut it, Jones. I’m talking to your child prodigy.”

“Well, she does have my genes so how could she not be one?” She rolls her eyes at him and pats his leg, but all he does is look at her with a satisfied smile. “Hello, Mary Margaret. Isn’t there a third Nolan somewhere?”

“He went to see Wilby,” she answers before leaning down to kiss Ruth.

“Wilby is the most important of all of us.”

“Except for Ada, of course,” Ruth adds in. “Now that everyone’s here, I say we eat.”

“It’s not like we came here for you, love.”

“Hey,” she scolds, reaching back to slap his chest even if she knows he’s teasing. He and Ruth have a fantastic relationship, so her mom is fine with all of it. But still. “You’re supposed to be a gentleman.”

Killian leans closer to her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Good God, Jones,” David whines, “stop flirting with my sister.”

“I can’t help myself when she’s so damn pretty. Besides, I thought you yelled at me when I did stop flirting with her.”

The memories of that sting the slightest bit, but she knows that it’s over. Things between she and Killian still aren’t perfect, not that perfection is possible, and they spend a hell of a lot of time talking about it. But that’s a good thing. It’s helping for them to work on, well, them. And David has been such a supportive person for her ever since he helped her through her breakdown at Thanksgiving. Those few minutes still mean the world to her. She thinks that’s what’s helped keep her going through it.

“You’re right. You can keep flirting with her.”

“I plan to.”

#rising from the ashes #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic

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theheartofpenelope · 5 years

Text

Simple Things : Chapter twelve

Excerpt - “I demand an appeal,” he muttered as he turned a corner. “You what?!” “Well, isn’t that what they do in your job?” Charlotte snapped her head back. Oh really? Trapped in a car. In traffic. No way for an escape. And he wants to plead his case. Fucking perfect. Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1 @stmeiou @ink-and-starlight @givemecocoaa @profkmoriarty13 @nikkalia @massivelemon @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @argo-shila @emoietmoi @redfoxwritesstuff @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @raining-litter @theoneanna @coppercorn-and-cauldron @turniptitaness @shadyskit @memoriesat30 @antyc67 @just-the-hiddles @sheris532 @marggot4 Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…Also on AO3 through this link Masterlist available through here Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter twelve Wednessday - A chance encounter in London

1. See

Charlotte politely followed the HR consultant as he escorted her into the sleek elevator. He was a middle-aged man who oozed self-confidence, he knew very well what he wanted and what he was looking for. He’d been quite rigid and resolute all throughout the meeting.

She had been a little surprised an HR manager was attending said lengthy meeting, but then again this wàs the Royal London Hospital and this might be a very strict protocol they had to live up to. Breaking it was no doubt sacrilegious in these parts of the country.

The executive directors of the Royal London Hospital had very clearly outlined their ‘vision’ for the hospital to Charlotte, requesting her take on things and requesting a well-documented legal counsel. Truth-be-told Charlotte had expected she was called in for this kind of professional advice. However she was not expecting that her response would be met the way it was…

As she politely but determinedly rejected some of their desiderata, some glances were exchanged on the other side of the table, a few nods and gestures went back and forth which Charlotte found utterly distracting. Where was their protocol now, she mused.

But all became clear when the meeting somehow, very openly, turned into a job-offer towards her. A very generous offer was instantly extended to her; and a temporary assignment to work out a new policy on end-of-life decisions in the Royal London Hospital. The fucking Royal Hospital, her mind has yelled out, the state-of-the-art hospital, globally recognized as a leader in pre-hospital and trauma care. Home to London's Air Ambulance and one of the capital's leading trauma and emergency care centres and hyper-acute stroke centres. And they wanted her…

Charlotte would be allowed to compile a multidisciplinary corps and an assistant would be appointed to her. The extent of the offer dizzied her, yet thrilled her at the same time. It was a dream come true. Well, more than that really…

Things were moving fast for her now. At least that’s how it felt for her. She started with only a handful seminars, but was now well-booked for the rest of the summer, with the occasional interview here and there. And now there was this offer on the table she could not quite wrap her mind around yet.

As she stepped into the elevator the HR manager kindly exchanged some more small talk with her. He seemed like an amiable man. With a smile he tapped the elevator buttons and started their descent down to the lobby.

No, never in her wildest dreams had Charlotte expected her road to lead her where it had so far. And this at only 36 years of age. This was wild. This went beyond her imagination. And Charlotte half expected to be woken up by the shrill tone of her alarm clock. She discreetly pinched her nails into her arm - just in case - but this was no dream apparently. The shrill alarm clock didn't sound, but the elevator did chyme and a monotone female voice announced the occupants they had reached the fourth floor, then the second floor and so on.

People trickled in and out the elevator and before she was good and well aware Charlotte had reached the ground floor. She smiled in agreement with the HR consultant as he thanked her for her time, which she countered with a thank you for having me. Ping-pong, as you go...

"And we'll be looking forward to hearing your decision," the HR consultant concluded their conversation, "and maybe I shouldn't say this, but we àre passionately hoping you'll be willing to work with us."

In her head Charlotte positively screamed fucking Royal London!, but in reality she smiled her best diplomatic smile. And while she shook his hand - firmly -, she politely answered she was absolutely honoured and would think the offer through.

Upon exiting the elevator on a pure adrenaline high, Charlotte inattentively bumped against a hurried nearby stranger who jogged out of an opposing elevator. Shaking the momentary lapse of concentration out of her head, she turned to the other party with a slightly surprised frown which swiftly morphed into a recognition, and then an awkward yet lukewarm smile.

"Charlotte?"

"Tom?"

2. See closer

3 days after Fringe. 3 nights after that night. 3 days and 3 nights without a single word. In either direction.

Charlotte’s heart thudded loudly and nervously in her chest. She was however oblivious whether this nervous spell was a good or a bad thing. Should she crawl under a rock and make herself scarce after exchanging the necessary small talk or should she act unaffected, like he was? Or should she take a breath, straighten her shoulders and ask for an answer in the hopes it could heal that awful gnawing feeling the aftermath of Edinburgh had left her with...

As she came round to a mute double (or was it triple?) take, she noted Tom seemed just as much out of his comfort zone as she was. And in a weird way it thrilled her. Karma. Suits him well. She could see him running his tongue over his lips before gently biting them shut. His hands fidgeted with the paperwork he held in his hand while he repeatedly re-adjusting his glasses.

Charlotte’s heartbeat however dropped some when she detected the variety of papers Tom had now safely tucked under his arm. So much papers after a doctor’s appointment, and that did not look good. At all. He didn’t look hurt. Was he sick? He seemed nervous, sweaty. He was silent, not at all like the Tom she’d come to know….

Her gaze got caught on the documents, but this point she couldn’t care less about that.

“Are - Are you alright?” Charlotte immediately questioned; she was worried. No point in denying this.

Her wall of defence had slipped and Tom could hear the concern in her voice inkling through. A small little frown came across her features. Only instantly, but he noticed nonetheless. And he thankfully concluded that perhaps she wasn’t yet hating him with the fire of a thousand suns…

"Yeah, no, I erm,” he stuttered, “I just had the obligatory medical check-up for a next project. But you?"

He was astounded though, for a woman who was most definitely not an actress she slid back into her defensive pose oh-so easily. A tall blank wall arose, that gave way to nothing or nobody. He swore he had caught a glimmer of relief into her eyes before though, but all sympathy had fled from her now.

“Good-good,” she replied with formal nod, “just - work.”

Tom took notice of how curt she suddenly acted. How could he not. But to Charlotte it was simply her only means as she desperately did not want to feel a single thing. Not those stupid-ass fireflies, not the inexplicable angry hurt, not the stomach drop. None of it. She wanted nothing more than to be cool and step over all of this matter-of-factly. Her gut swirled with bottled up questions and insecurities, but she would have none of that. Water under the bridge.

Get over it Daniëls. He sure has.

3. Believe

Charlotte slid into the leather seats of his fancy car. A fresh cool bottle of water clasped in her hands. He’d paid for it despite her vehement veto. He wouldn’t listen though. And now she was here, in his car, because he offered to drive her to the St. Pancras Station. She’d refused, replying she was taking the underground so he really shouldn’t bother. It was noon. Traffic would be a mess, etc. However she ended up giving in to this request - albeit reluctantly - because he was right on one thing; they needed to talk. Privately if possible and the hospital lobby was just no place to do just that.

But in spite of that, they did not exchange one word once inside the car. Tom pulled out of the underground parking with a silent ease. And emerging in the London streets and into the full sunlight, he reached out for his trusted sunglasses. Meanwhile the familiar scent of leather and some citrussy car perfume tempted Charlotte’s mind into a trip down memory lane, back to another night several weeks back in time. A night with equally nervous heart flutters, but for entirely different reasons.

He queued down the main road, while desperately trying to sort his thoughts before settling on a

“You’ve never answered me…”

Charlotte remained at a loss for words for a couple of seconds before huffing a vexed “honestly?!” and shaking her head in disbelief.

He could hear her as she exhaled loudly, seemingly trying to get her mind pulled back together again,

“With quite a delay I got your texts and,” a pause, “your voicemail.”

His eyes urged her on.

"You said - if memory serves me well, and it usually does - that you wished you'd said ‘goodbye’.” Charlotte paused, “forgive me but I thought that was how this worked for you."

"How what worked?"

"You didn't show up!!" She didn’t mean for her voice to go up in pitch and she furiously furrowed her brows to compensate for it, "I mean, it's all right, I was ….. naive I guess? Somewhere I knew I wouldn't see you again that night, but yet hoped for it. Against better judgement."

"Wha, wh- why would you expect I wouldn't show up?"

Charlotte lifted her chin and rested her head against the headrest while releasing a cold and hollow laugh, which he didn’t particularly cared for, "To-om!"

But he remained silent, a bit dumbfounded and clueless for what to say next. A car behind them honked, frustrated Tom had failed to acknowledge the light turning green and was still at a halt.

"You don't want to let anybody down, I understand," Charlotte muttered, "no need to..."

"Only I did," he interrupted, "I let you down, I let myself down. I’m just…”

“Just stop it,” Charlotte interjected as she shook her head in seeming defeat and looked at him wearily.

“You know, I hate it how you are making all of this around you?”

“I’m sorry,” he blinked twice, “come again?”

"Like it’s all your hurt feelings in the scale here. It drives me mad….” she huffed, “You know, I think or at least I hope we've established in the past that I'm not really the type of girl that just goes crawling into bed with someone on a whim?”

Charlotte gestured aggravatedly, “so excuse me if I'm a bit rough around the edges here, but I clearly heard you say ‘goodbye’ to me. So, what else would there be left for me to say? It didn't really feel like a message that allowed any type of answer…"

“So just,” she sighed, “let’s just call this for what this is or was. And move on?”

A pang went straight through his heart. He saw her turning away and looking through the window from the passenger seat at the building that passed her by. Good. He desperately needed a minute to himself to let her words sink in. He couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she would see him as this promiscuous playboy who just went sleeping around with whomever struck his fancy...

“I demand an appeal,” he muttered as he turned a corner.

“You what?!”

“Well, isn’t that what they do in your job?”

Charlotte snapped her head back. Oh really?

Trapped in a car. In traffic. No way for an escape. And he wants to plead his case. Fucking perfect.

“You know,” he argued more determined now, “you keep saying, ‘let’s call it what it is’. And then you do just that. And proceed to you turn your back on me. And it’s settled?” he questioned.

“But what about me? Do I at least get the chance to call it what it was for me?” he pressed on, “I do feel like you owe it to me to let me explain..."

"Owe it to you?" she frowned with a huff, hovering clearly unsettled.

"Yes, Charlotte,” he replied. Curt. To the point.

“And if you truly feel the way you say you do - I promise, I will not push this matter further. However I will not let you silence me before I have spoken my part.”

"I wanted to see you that night. But the crowd, .... and then some fans walked up and then there was this critic," he sighed in utter frustration and banged the steering wheel in sheer annoyance, "I am an idiot! I know I am. And I should have been more firm. I went about it all wrong. And for that I will be forever angry with myself."

“But,” he sighed, “I did want to see you and ... verify that the other night was not just a dream. I longed to see you. To hear you. To hold you and to kiss you goodnight. Not goodbye.” he shook his head in disbelief.

“And if I said that wrong on your voicemail then I apologize for it. All of it. I was tired. Impatient.”

Heartbroken

He held her gaze, “I am not thàt type of man you seem to want to take me for, I am not the type to sleep around. You must believe me on this one. I might not have the best track-record with you so far; I admit,” he added a bitter laugh, “but this is true. I promise you that."

She kept silent. This seemed like a good sign…

"But Charlotte, I called you and went straight to voicemail. To me, that was quite a clear message as well... No response is still a response, Charlotte,” he concluded.

"Have you spoken your peace, Tom?"

He replied to her with a silent surprised nod.

“Apparently,” she mumbled, “when you attach a cell-phone to a power bank it shuts off everything so it loads faster…”

“Of course,” he wrinkled his nose as he shrug his shoulders as if to convey her he did not see the point of this lesson, “that’s the way they work.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow ironically, “well congrats to you but I didn’t know that.”

“What on earth?”

“In Edinburgh, a colleague of mine lent one to me… my battery was running low and … I didn’t want to miss any….” She furrowed her brows and looked down at the drink in between her hands. “I didn’t have a watch. My cell is … my clock, my calendar. It erm - it automatically put me in flight mode. I didn’t realize. And I’m sorry about that.”

He looked back at her with sympathy and nodded, “ok.”

She nodded with a kindhearted smile, “so, appeal granted. It’s good we talked. But, you don’t want this."

"Ouch," he chuckled and clutched his heart. "Well that stung. For a minute there I thought he came to an understanding here?"

"Don't miss my point," Charlotte slanted her head and looked at him with sympathy.

"And don't you miss mine,” he interrupted her, “because even though you believe you speak the truth, you are wrong."

"Am I?"

"So very wrong! Because, as it turns out, I do wànt this,” he gestured between them, “or at least a fair chance at this.”

But Charlotte only rolled her eyes and turned her gaze outwards again.

“My god! I swear there are pitbulls that are less tenacious than you!”

Charlotte grunted and looked down at the bottle in between her hands, before a stupid grin fell from her lips.

“I swear,” he shook his head, “so help me god.”

“And now she’s laughing… You’re putting me through hell here darling...”

“I’ve missed not talking to you,” he finally dared to confess, “And I so desperately wanted to reach out to you, only I … don’t know where you live, I didn’t know where you’d be? So,” he lingered, “I sent flowers to your firm.”

“Well congratulations to Luke,” Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“I tend to pick and send my own flowers, darling. I’m very precise about those things.”

She kept silent. Good.

Tom stared at the steering wheel before him,“Gladiolus, for strength of character, honor and conviction. And they needed to be white; the color of perfection, safety, purity and faith. Writing the accompanying card was an outright hell though because the odds were your colleagues might get it before you did.”

“That was you?” Charlotte reminisced a WhatsApp from her office depicting a gorgeous bouquet and demanding what she had said or done to deserve the honour of such a wonderful bouquet. They couldn’t make out the card though. It only mentioned one word, but the meaning of it was lost on everyone.

Until now.

“Maktub,” Charlotte whispered, to which he nodded.

‘Maktub.’ ‘It is written’.

A deep belief about destiny Paulo Coelho writes about in ‘the Alchemist’ where he captured it in just one word. Maktub. Everything is destined and written. How when and where has already been planned and we shall not get anxious about it. Just little patience and it will just come with time provided and the efforts needed.

She glanced up in his eyes that convey nothing but a clear bluegreen sincerity. She wanted to ask him to say that again, for good understanding. But he gladly repeated it on his own accord.

And there went her heart. In one thousand pieces, scattered all over the ground.

4. Achieve

He officially declared traffic was an absolute mess. It was barely noon and within 20 minutes he had barely made any significant progress towards Saint Pancras Station. Worriedly he inquired with Charlotte when her train was departing and when she quietly confessed “16:03” he dropped his chin to his chest and bit his lip trying to suppress a laugh.

“Can I propose lunch now?” he chuckled, to which she pleasantly nodded. That would be alright.

They agreed they would start over at lunch, wipe the slate clean. Talk. And reset.

Tom made a swift U-turn, sneaking into smaller streets. Homeward. He wanted to let out Bobby first, drop of his paperwork, leave his car. Charlotte wordlessly followed his path.

The chocolate brown Cocker Spaniël happily greeted his master as Tom set foot into his house. Charlotte followed quietly, awkwardly. Bobby sniffed her legs both suspiciously and curiously. When she crouched down and offered him the palms of her hands, he studied and snuffed them gratefully, ultimately giving them a little lick before ignoring her completely and favouring Tom over her.

Tom chuckled, “well, you’re accepted it seems.”

He clicked his tongue, guiding Bobby out into his backyard while Charlotte nervously waited around the living room. She wanted to go explore his bookshelf across the room. As she progressed down the room she admired the stupendously comfy-looking lounge chair and fought the urge to try it out herself. As she ran her fingertips over the fragments of paper that lay scattered around a reading table, her eyes fell upon an article with her name on it, post-its with scribblings on it. An email address, a phone number, some doodling, scratched out words. City names. As she picked up the interview curiously, a second one featuring her appeared underneath. Charlotte chuckled, had he really been trying to track her down?

A soft chuckle brought her back to reality. Tom stood against the door frame, smiling bashfully.

“Caught me red handed.”

But Charlotte could only look at him, rendered speechless.

“Wasn’t lying,” he reminded her, “wanted you. Want you. If you’ll have me.”

It turned out to be the most difficult question anybody had ever asked her.

Do I want this - Do I want to invest in this, whatever it is, potentially discovering it would be only a waste of her time.

Charlotte stood by her belief that notwithstanding their shared morals or values, their common interest or visions, they did remain so different on countless other things. Things that mattered just as much. And you did need some common ground to form a solid basis on which you can build your relationship. Without a solid base everything goes to waste. Hell, even with a solid base things could very well still go to waste. Her marriage was a perfect example of the latter.

On the other hand though... this was him. The man that slowly but surely had crawled under her skin. Attentive, interested, good hearted. And when she’d crumbled down in Germany he was there, while he didn’t really need to be there. Yet there he was, offering support when she had needed it most. He unknowingly found the smallest of cracks in the seemingly airtight seal around her heart and nestled himself inside. Gentleman-like, well dressed and with a good book. Ever patient. Trustworthy. Present. Shit.

Her stomach was in knots when she came to realise, that day, what her heart had known deep down a few days earlier; she could not walk away. Not from this man. But the future scared her nonetheless.

"But - we're as different as chalk and cheese,"

"Are we?"

She smiled, "we live out of our respective suitcases."

"For now," he corrected her.

"Yes, for now. But when I touch down after all this...."

"You'll still only be 2 hours away,"

"But..."

"I dare you," he grinned, feeling he was winning this battle.

"Brexit," Charlotte tried.

"Honestly, Brexit? Of all excuses you come up with, Brexit?"

"Well,..."

"I will gladly add some more pages to my passport. For you," he paused. “Come on darling, don’t hold back now,” he teased, “any objection you have, give it to me. I will gladly deny or overcome every single one.”

“To-om,” she slanted her head. He liked this ‘To-om’ better, when her voice was full of loving emotion again.

“Either you go at it with passion, or not at all,” he added.

“Permission to engage the enemy sir?” he chuckled.

Charlotte rewarded him with a lopsided smile. Momentarily banning all scary thoughts out of her head she gladly but carefully opted to open her heart and take the leap of faith. As petrifying as it felt. Her smile was all the persuasion Tom needed to walk the short distance between them. He stroked her dark brown tresses, admiring her soft feminine features and seeing if he’d remembered them correctly.

She closed her eyes when he slid his hand into her hair and slowly he leant in for a soft kiss. And another one. And another. Sweet and innocent, little testaments of adoration and longing. She ran a hand up from the nape of his neck and through his curls. She’d missed this, that much was true already. And she allowed herself to revell in this sudden rush of enamourment.

She felt his lips curve into a smile in between pecks.

“‘m getting better at this,” he whispered

“Hmm?”

“Third time's a charm. No interruptions here, only Bobby.”

“Nu-uh,” Charlotte breathed, “you’re still buying me lunch Hiddleston.”

Later that afternoon Charlotte lovingly petted Bobby's head before making her leave. Tom had signed up for ComiCon in Vienna, which coincided with her seminar. Only two more days and they would be together again. After sharing a loving last kiss, Charlotte stepped outside into an unsure yet thrilling future.

Tom had asked her to call him when she'd arrived home, claiming he'd only worry until he'd heard from her. He was so easy to love.

Two more days….

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #simple-things

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

Text

Where You Can Still Remember Dreaming (3/35)

Killian Jones, former crime reporter, was not happy to be home. It hadn’t been home in a very long time, after all. Home was an abstract construct that existed for people who didn’t know as many adjectives for blood as he did. Home wasn’t New York City, but it certainly wasn’t Boston or New Orleans either and he’d always gone where the story was. And he was positive Emma Swan was one hell of a story.

Emma Swan, pro video game player, desperately wanted to find home. She thought she had, a million years ago in the back corner of a barn and a town and faces she trusted. But that had all blown up in her face and it didn’t take long for her to decide she was going to control the pyrotechnics from here on out. So now she was in New York City and a different corner and she kind of wanted to trust Killian Jones.

Rating: Mature. Word Count: 9.6K of Killian Jones background and why he’s so jaded. AN: Will and Robin ragging on Killian for every single one of his life choices and how clearly into Emma Swan he already is might be my absolute favorite thing. So here’s more of that. Also Cora. And Regina. And journalism families. And Ariel. And painfully adorable kids! As always I can’t thank you guys for clicking and reading and being generally fantastic. || Also on Ao3 and FF.net and tagged up on Tumblr || Tag List: @jamif ; @alicerubyfloyd ; @courtneyshortney82 ; @jennjenn615 ; @artistic-writer ; @kmomof4 ; @onceuponaprincessworld ; @nikkiemms ; @resident-of-storybrooke ; @whumped-natascha-remi-ronin ; @coliferoncer ; @strangestarlightdetective (Let me know if you want to be tagged or not tagged or just, like, have some feelings.)

He had an office.

And a couch in his office.

He’d never had a couch in an office. He’d never really had an office. And now he had both. He also hadn’t heard a single word from Emma Swan in the last week.

And it might have been driving Killian insane. Slowly, but surely. It might have also been driving his friends insane. He had an office and no reason to use it.

“Some reporter you are,” Will said, not the first time he'd pointed that out. He’d flopped onto the couch without a single word ten minutes before, draping his legs over the side and dropping half a dozen cameras on the floor. “How did you not actually get her number?” Killian didn’t answer. He didn’t have an answer. Well, no, that wasn’t entirely true. He had an answer, just not one he wanted to share with Will Scarlet in an office building that seemed to be some kind of living, breathing entity.

“Is it always this loud in here?” Killian asked instead, leaning back against the absurdly expensive office chair that had come with the absurdly fancy office.

Regina was pulling out every conceivable stop – metaphorical or otherwise – to make this work. He probably would have been impressed if he wasn’t so frustrated that he was a piece of garbage reporter and Emma Swan hadn’t called him to set something up yet.

For the story.

Absolutely for the story.

“It’s an office,” Will reasoned. He still hadn’t sat up. “You worked in a daily for years in several major metropolitan cities. Why is this weird for you?” “It’s not.” “Ok, then why didn’t you ask for contact info? From any of them, but especially the one you’ve been mooning over for the last week?”

Killian scoffed, mostly so his face didn’t dissolve into exactly that. “Excuse me? What was that phrase you just used? Did we just teleport to 1947?” “Why that date?” “A spur of the moment decision.” Will hummed in agreement, shifting on the couch and flopping his head to his side, staring at Killian like they were sophomores in college and trying to figure out how to pay the rent that month. “I’m serious,” he continued.

“I know you are,” Killian sighed, sliding down the chair until his knees were bent in front of him and his shirt was going to get wrinkled, crumpled up against his back. He had research to do. He had a video game to learn and a lifestyle to understand and maybe a blonde to...stalk? No, that sounded too aggressive.

That’s why he’d given her the card and resolved to hope for the best.

Because Killian could pick out a cautious source when he saw it – Emma’s slightly skittish behavior like some kind of flashing neon sign that this wasn’t just going to be easy. Of course not. It was a good story – she was a good story – probably the best story he’d had in as long as he could remember, some kind of decidedly optimistic something that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about for the last week.

But she was nervous and she didn’t really want to talk and, truth be told, he was fairly positive she didn’t really want him there.

The story hadn’t been her idea. Or her team’s idea. It had been some quasi public relations advisor masquerading as an elementary school teacher who had, by some journalistic coincidence, managed to get Regina to listen to her.

And Killian didn’t have time for a story that wasn’t easy and simple and, well, maybe a little fluffy.

What a goddamn disaster.

He should have gotten contact info from the entire, stupid team.

And Emma.

Definitely Emma.

“If you think any harder you’re head is actually going to explode,” Will muttered, grinning at Killian. He’d kicked his shoes off at some point. God.

“Just make yourself comfortable, why don’t you?” Killian hissed. He ran his hand through his hair, practically yanking on the ends in frustration and he was no closer to understanding how any of this video game stuff worked than he had been a week before or a year before or ever in his entire life.

He was a fucking awful reporter – with no knowledge of his subject matter.

“It’s not like you’re doing anything else,” Will reasoned. “And I don’t have anywhere to go for awhile. So, uh, yeah, Hook. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Also Locksley said he might show up.” “So you’re babysitting me is what you’re telling me?”

“I said no such thing. You a master of this game, yet? Locksley said…” “Just how many conversations with Robin are you having?” Killian asked and his leg was starting to cramp up, bent the wrong way under his desk. His phone dinged a few feet away from his hand and he nearly jumped towards the sound, ignoring whatever Will did with his face as he reached to grab the thing and, possibly, will a very specific person onto the other end.

It wasn’t even a phone call.

It was a notification.

That he did not remember setting up.

For an e-mail blast he absolutely did not sign up for.

“What the fuck, Gina,” Killian mumbled under his breath and Will sounded like he was actually cackling, one arm thrown over his face as the whole couch shook under his weight. “Jeez, Scarlet, I promise you, it is not that funny.” “It is,” he argued. “Did you have to put your phone number on that mountain of paperwork you signed your life away to last week?” “Probably. It all started to blur together a bit at the end.” Will clicked his tongue. “See, that’s where you made your first mistake. You’ve got to read the fine print, Hook. Otherwise you’re going to get roped into Cora’s, I don’t know, scepter of journalism dominance.” “I don’t think that’s the string of words you were looking for.” “Yeah, well, you didn’t get contact information from your sources, so forgive me for having to take over the mantle of the word leader.” “Stop talking.” Will chuckled again, finally pulling his arm away from his face and swinging his feet back onto the floor. “Seriously, though. That’s Cora’s thing. Everyone in the company gets ‘em when they start. Front page blasts and breaking news blasts and, I’m pretty sure, you can sign up for section specific blasts and keywords and I don’t think I can say the word blast again without actually laughing.” “Yeah, that’s fair,” Killian admitted. “So, wait, that’s Cora’s thing? Not Gina?” “You’ve got to stop thinking we’re all on the same team here.” Killian considered that for a moment, chewing on his lip and wondering when Will learned how to actually look like a serious adult. Probably around the same time Hannah moved to Washington and he stopped taking photos if he wasn’t promised a paycheck. They were, easily, the most depressing group of people in the entire New York metropolitan area.

And Cora Mills was nothing if not ruthless.

That was a good word for it. She’d married into money when she was young – a fact she was quick to point out to anyone with a pulse whether they wanted to listen or not – and made something of that money by building up Mills Media when her husband died. The Daily Caller hadn’t been much more than a glorified blog before Cora decided it was hers and, thirty-odd years later, it was one of the top sites in the entire goddamn world, with enough web traffic to make Killian’s head spin, even if that merlot story had been awful.

He’d clicked on the merlot story.

A lot of people clicked on the merlot story and every story, every day, no matter how trite the headline or the stock photo that went along with it.

It made Cora millions and, by extension, made Regina millions and only one of them was happy with that fact. She’d never admit it out loud – not when her mother was pulling the strings, but, once, Regina wanted a paper and a byline and an outlet that didn’t just tell stories. She wanted to tell good stories. Stories that drew hits and revenue and gave a bit of ink, electronic or otherwise, to the so-called little guy.

Killian graduated with those same ideals and that same hope, evident in every single byline – tell the good story, the true story, the story people otherwise would never hear. That changed in New Orleans and one night and that story was as far from good as anything else. And Regina had gone back to Cora, had lost that shine as soon as the police told her Daniel had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and Killian never believed that story.

But it wasn’t a good one.

It was goddamn depressing.

So he ignored it and he let the depressing seep into everything, let the memory of her sit in the back of his head like a weight until it was as dead as the people he wrote about and that was easier than trying to fight it.

Liam would hate that.

Fuck.

“Hook, you’ve got to stop spacing out on me,” Will said sharply, suddenly right in front of the desk with one hand on the wood and the other one flicking Killian’s left forearm. Killian glared at him. Will didn’t move an inch. “Got your attention didn’t it?” “That’s an absolute dick move,” he growled.

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” “What?” “Regina is staging a battle for your soul.” Killian blinked. And then fell back on sarcasm and being an asshole and that was easy. That was comfortable. “That so?” he asked. “I can’t imagine it’ll be much of a fight.” “Asshole.” “Yes.”

Will rolled his eyes, knocking over a nameplate that likely cost a questionable amount of money so he could sit on the edge of the desk. “Can we have this conversation without you actually cracking jokes? Because this is almost serious and I need you to understand what’s happening here.” Killian wasn’t expecting that – or the look on Will’s face, back to adult and meaningful and he really didn’t have anything else to do. Except maybe try and find an apartment uptown. He was going to move back uptown.

Liam probably wouldn’t like that either.

“Yeah,” Killian promised and it might have been the most sincere thing he’d said in the last week. “Explain, Scarlet.” “Cora didn’t want you here. She didn’t care about your staff cuts or your layoffs or whatever. She, and this is verbatim from Gina, said serves him right for that spiral years ago. I thought Locksley was actually going to punch her.”

Killian stiffened, pressing his feet into the carpet underneath him as he tried to count to ten. In through his nose, out through his mouth. Oxygen was important. Vital. He had to keep breathing. And Cora Mills had no idea what she was talking about.

It wasn’t a spiral.

It was a...downfall.

He’d been twenty-two, a year out of college with a string of bylines and a freelancing gig that was enough to pay the bills and he’d been happy. He was writing. He was telling stories. Until his phone rang. There’d been nothing but a phone call – it wasn’t anything more than a training exercise gone wrong, an engineering mishap that should have been smooth sailing and, even now, the pun made Killian’s tongue feel too big for his mouth and he could taste bile in the back of his throat and the whole world felt like it was falling off its axis again.

Dead.

Captain Liam Jones, pride of no one except his younger brother, was dead. In a goddamn fucking training accident.

And the United States Navy simply expected Killian to move on. Like Liam hadn’t been the foundation of absolutely everything, hadn’t supported a career in journalism like that was even a career, like he hadn’t read every single byline, no matter where he was.

Killian got a check and an apology on template stationary and it took all of five seconds to decide he was done. He left New York the next week, paid off his half of the rent, kissed Regina on the cheek and walked away.

He stopped writing good stories and started writing any story, bouncing from weeklies to dailies to one company in Missouri that might have actually been a glorified newsletter. Until he got to New Orleans and sat down at a bar after writing about a triple homicide that would still probably end up below the fold and she smiled when he spoke.

Like that was just something people did.

Milah Ormagia was sad and tired and she wanted in a way Killian didn’t remember wanting until he saw her. So he took and he found his way back towards something that felt a bit like happiness and if he closed his eyes he could still remember the exact curve of her smile and the way her hair frizzed softly in the humidity and how cold her hand felt in his when he woke up on pavement with lights and sirens blaring around him.

It almost seemed ironic that when the doctors told him they did all they could, they took that hand. He was a goddamn dismal story.

“So,” Killian said, licking his lips and trying to keep his voice even. He wasn’t fooling Scarlet. “If Cora didn’t want me here, how did this happen? It’s not like Gina to just…” “Stand up to her mother like that?” Will suggested. Killian shrugged. “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what she said exactly, but whatever it was did the trick. Cora agreed, as long as you bring in the hits. That’s the deal. You write you want. You tell this good story and you bring in the ad revenue and Cora won’t kick you out of this very fancy office.” “When did Gina even find the time to decorate this?” “I’m not convinced she sleeps.” “Yeah, that’s probably true,” Killian mused. “Ok, so let me get this straight. Gina promises Cora I can bring in the numbers and that’s, suddenly, good?” “It’s because she thinks you won’t.” Oh. Yeah, that made sense. Cora wasn’t exactly the nurturing sort. She was more the take what you want and fuck anyone who stands in your way sort. And, in this instance, Killian was very much in the way. And very much a reminder of why Regina wanted to write in the first place.

“Shit,” he sighed, hand back in his hair and shoulders sagging with the sudden weight of the journalism world on his shoulders.

“It’s a good story,” Will said, like that would just make everything alright. “And if you do this the way you can, then, maybe, Cora will loosen up a little bit.” “You honestly believe that?”

Will shrugged, tugging on the end of the Hunter Alumni shirt he must have pulled out of the back corner of his closet that morning. “You can write, Killian,” he said simply. “That’s always been the case. Gina wouldn’t have brought you home if she didn’t agree. Or think you could do something here that can change this whole, stupid clickbait site. But, you know, no pressure or anything.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Killian scoffed. He’d bit his lip, blood in his mouth and nerves in the pit of his stomach and he wished, not for the first time since he’d come back home, that Liam was there. If only to listen to him whine.

God, he wanted to whine.

And maybe talk to Emma Swan again.

“Really though,” Will continued, crossing his arms lightly over his chest. “I’m not saying you’re changing the world with video game stories. But they seemed like good people and it’s interesting and it’s...I don’t know, nice.” “Nice,” Killian echoed skeptically.

“If I used the word good again, my brain is actually going to explode.” Killian smiled, some of the tension that had been tight as a vice at the base of his skull loosening just a bit. “You’re a poet, Scarlet.” “And you don’t have to write about death because it’s the only thing you think you’re worthy of doing anymore. We’ve come full circle. You get to come home, save the integrity of the modern journalism world and get the girl.” “What was that last part?” “Yeah, honestly, what was that last part?” Robin leaned around the open doorway, eyebrows lifted and something that might have been amusement lingering on his face as Killian tried to groan as loudly as he possibly could.

“Don’t you have a section to run?” Killian asked, grabbing one of the, apparently, two-hundred pens sitting on his desk, and tapping it loudly. Robin grinned.

“No,” he said. “It’s a website, Killian. There’s like..three people actually sitting in news right now.” “Oh, to be the high and mighty editorial elite.” “Twerp.”

Killian winced. “That just makes me think you’re disciplining Henry and Roland.” “You think I call my kids twerps? What kind of father do you think I am?”

“Obviously not a very good one,” Will muttered, dropping back into the corner of the couch. “Hey, how come Regina’s never gotten me a fancy office with window walls and a couch that costs more than my rent?” “That couch does not cost more than your rent,” Robin said and it wasn’t an answer to the question. Will lifted his eyebrows. “And it’s because Gina likes Hook more than you, obviously. God knows why, it’s not like he’s actually done anything since he got here.” “Ok, that’s rude,” Killian mumbled, but he couldn’t really argue and maybe Will had gotten phone numbers during the meet and greet. He probably would have mentioned that. He absolutely wouldn’t have mentioned that.

God damn.

“Is it because he’s thinking about this girl?” Robin asked, ignoring Killian completely and sinking down next to Will with a very specific look on his face. Maybe if Killian just walked out they wouldn’t notice. He could...do something else. Anything else.

He could go back to that midtown bar and ask Granny for a phone number. Or apartment address. Or Emma Swan’s entire life history.

That last one seemed kind of extreme.

Although even the idea of walking into the middle of Times Square on a Friday in the summer was enough to leave Killian wondering where exactly he’d misplaced his mind.

“It’s totally about this girl,” Will confirmed. “She was pretty, Hook. I get it.” “God, shut up,” Killian hissed and this all felt a little juvenile. Two minutes ago they’d been talking about his entire life falling off the rails and how much Cora Mills still hated him just for breathing and now Will Scarlet was trying to gossip with him about girls like they were fourteen.

“She was!” “Wait, wait,” Robin interrupted, hands flailing through the open air in front of him. “You met her? Also can we stop using the word girl, it’s freaking me out.” “We could just stop talking about this completely,” Killian suggested, but the words might have been in Latin for all the good they did him. Will was already talking over him.

“Yeah, I met her,” he said, grabbing a camera off the ground and toying with the controls on the top until he, apparently, found what he was looking for. “Here,” he continued, pushing the screen towards Robin’s face until the older man’s eyebrows shifted slightly and he hummed in the back of his throat.

“She is pretty. Is that...Hook are you the guy sitting at that booth?” Killian tried not to throw something – like his very expensive new office chair through the wall of windows behind him. Or his actual body through the wall of windows behind him. “Who else do you think it would be?” he asked impatiently.

“I have no idea,” Robin admitted, not pulling his eyes away from the few inches of photo screen. “This is just...you look happy?” “That sounded like a question.” “It kind of was. I actually think you’re smiling and you’re leaning forward. With both hands. Oh shit, Scarlet. Look at this. He’s got both hands on the table.” Will snatched the camera out of Robin’s hands, mouth going slack when he realized it was true and Killian bit his lip until he could taste blood again. When he’d woken up in the hospital they’d told him he’d been out of it for a few days and that one of his lungs had collapsed and he had four broken ribs and his left arm probably wouldn’t ever be totally straight again – or complete.

He wasn’t ever much of an athlete or particularly vain, but Killian didn’t think it was selfish to want to be a whole, human being and as soon as they’d released him from the hospital, he’d realized he wouldn’t ever be.

Not again.

So he did his best to ignore it. That was a bit of a trend for him. Ignore and move on and keep writing. And never draw attention to it, the piece of plastic at the end of his arm and the straps that held it in place and left little rivets on his skin no matter what he seemed to do to try and make it even remotely comfortable.

“Oh fuck, he’s right, Hook,” Will mumbled and either they didn’t realize this was exactly the kind of conversation Killian didn’t want to have or they absolutely did not care. It was probably the second one. “You’re totally leaning in. That’s a thing, right?” “A thing?” Killian repeated. “Yeah, you know, like a peacock or something.” “English.” “He’s saying you’re into her,” Robin explained. “He has no idea how body language or animals work and it’s ruining his metaphors.” “Ah, well, yeah, of course.” “She work at that restaurant where you met the team?” Will made some kind of strangled sound, seemingly trying to melt into the corner of the couch and Robin looked incredibly confused. Actually jumping through the wall seemed like a pretty appealing option. “What am I missing?” Robin continued.

“I mean, she does kind of work at the restaurant,” Killian mumbled. “So you’re not totally wrong. I don’t think she’ll have much time for that though. If this works out.” “If what works out?” “The League cut. They’re totally going to make the cut so…” “You’re not making any sense.” “She’s on the team,” Will muttered, staring at the photo again and whatever animal metaphor he was trying to come up with. “Or, more to the point, she is the team.”

Robin was standing up and pacing and glaring at Killian like he was actually his kid and had just shown up with a detention slip. “What the fuck, Killian?” he asked sharply, not even bothering to slow down when he started talking.

He was picking up speed.

“It’s not like anything happened,” Killian argued, not quite sure what it was he was arguing exactly. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. He’d talked. And given her his card. And maybe participated in some entirely harmless flirting.

That’s what that had been, right?

It felt a hell of a lot like flirting. Or maybe friendship? They could be friends. They should probably be friends. That would make a year-long feature series easier. If they made the cut next week.

They were totally going to make the cut.

Killian could be friends with Emma Swan. He wanted to be friends with Emma Swan. And he was kind of terrified of Ruby Lucas, fairly certain she’d actually eat him if he dared put a toe out of line.

“Both hands, Killian,” Robin shouted, skidding to a stop in front of the desk and staring at him like he was defying him to object.

“There is only one hand, Locksley,” Killian said softly. “That’s how it works now. And nothing happened. Or will happen. Ethics or whatever.” Will whistled, low and judgmental and Killian wished he’d leave and wished Robin would stop doing that thing with his face. His phone made noise again – another e-mail blast. “You know you can turn those off,” Robin said, an apology without actually using the words.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

“Man, Scarlet gets all the good updates first.” “You’re busy. That section we talked about. Or whatever.” “You’ve got to come up with another word.” “My vocabulary has been kind of limited recently. It’ll get better once I start writing again.” Robin quirked an eyebrow, tongue pressed on the inside of his cheek and Killian tried to take a deep breath. He just needed to write something. If he started writing something, anything, the rest of it would all fall into place.

He was positive.

“Yeah, I know,” Robin said. This had been the strangest conversation. Killian probably shouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about Emma Swan in the last few days. She had impossibly green eyes. “Although, for what it’s worth, she was leaning in too.”

Killian didn’t say anything. He couldn’t come up with a single word. And there was another person in his office.

“Hi, hi, hi,” Ariel said brusquely, nodding at each one of them in turn before settling on Robin. “We are having some kind of link disaster.” “What?” Robin balked. The shift from concerned friend and quasi parent to front page managing editor was abrupt and just a bit jarring – his shoulders rolled back and his spine seemed to extend and Killian was half positive the slight gray at his temples looked a bit more distinguished all of the sudden.

“A link disaster,” Ariel repeated. “People are calling. Aurora’s losing her mind. I think Regina made her cry already.” “Oh my God,” Killian laughed, earning the ire of Robin’s glare. He grinned in response. “C’mon, Gina’s making people named Aurora cry. Who’s Aurora?” “Her assistant,” Ariel explained. Killian hummed in understanding, appreciating whatever attitude the receptionist had that allowed her to just barrel into his office like she owned it. “And she’s still kind of shaking at her desk. Because none of the links on the main page are going where they’re supposed to be going. You click on one thing and it goes to a totally different story.”

“Well, that’s not ideal,” Will laughed, thumb spinning something on the back of the camera. Robin looked like he wanted to beat him with it.

“Thank you, Scarlet,” he bit out before softening his expression slightly when he glanced back at Ariel. “Do you know where Gina is now that she’s done terrorizing assistants? She hasn’t killed any interns has she?” “We have interns?” Killian asked, joining the conversation and working another groan out of Robin. “That’s a fair question.” “Maybe not during a link crisis,” Ariel reasoned and he shrugged, pressing his lips together. “I told Aurora she needed to fix the base code, but she’s totally freaked, so I don’t think there’s anything to do on that front and Sydney is, apparently, missing in action so that’s why Cora’s pissed. More so than usual.” “You know how to fix this?” Robin asked, something that sounded a bit like desperation creeping into his voice.

Ariel shook her head. “I know the general idea of how to fix this. Sydney’s engineering or whatever his card says.” “Engineering’s just a very fancy way of saying IT. If you can fix this now, at least stem the damage, Gina might build a statue of you in the lobby.” “It’d be difficult to see around my desk if she did that.” “Yeah, you really here for the receptionist gig?” She shook her head again, hair hitting against the side of her chin and no one in that office was really telling the full story. That was kind of ironic too. Maybe it was because they’d used the word good so often.

“No,” Ariel admitted softly and Killian bit back a grin. “You want to go fix this link disaster though? Because I really think Aurora’s going to have some kind of actual episode if we don’t fix at least the main story.” “The main story’s fucked up too?” “What part of emergency did you not understand, Locksley?” Will asked, not even bothering to disguise his laugh. “Aren’t you an editor?” “Don’t ask him that,” Killian warned. “He’ll bite your head off.” “Both of you, shut up,” Robin snapped. “Ariel, what time is it? And how long do you think this emergency is going to last?” She tugged her phone – buzzing and possibly flashing some kind of morse code – out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. “Uh, nearly four-thirty. And I have no idea. Again, emergency kind of suggests it’s bad. We should have fixed this five minutes ago.” “Shit. Ok, um, Aurora probably can’t cope with the Subway right now, right?” Will pushed off the corner of the couch to glance over the row of cubicles on the office floor in front of them and whatever he saw seemed to make it painfully obvious that Aurora absolutely, positively could not hand the Subway at four-thirty on a Friday afternoon.

“Yeah, uh,” he stammered, dropping back onto the cushion with a thump. “That’s not happening right now.” “Shit,” Robin repeated. He grabbed his own phone, thumbs flying across the screen as he clenched his jaw tightly. “Maybe they can stay a little while longer.” “Who are you talking about?” Killian asked, fairly certain he was only half involved in the conversation taking place in his own office. That was still a weird sentence.

“He’s referring to his kids as a collective they,” Will mumbled. Robin kicked him, a string of insults that absolutely would not have been appropriate in front of his kids falling out of his mouth. “And he’s talking about picking them up from that summer program. You know where Gina met that teacher who suggested the story that your whole career is depending on?” “You are the soul of tact. And I can go get ‘em. It’s not like I’m doing anything here. I know shit about coding.” Will rolled his eyes. “You want to date your lead source.” Ariel perked up at that, eyes flashing Killian’s direction. Robin kicked Will again. “He’s not doing that,” he said, sounding like he was issuing some sort of journalism decree. “You’d really go get ‘em, Hook? Honestly?”

“Yeah, sure,” Killian nodded, grabbing his phone off the desk. He hadn’t brought anything else. He didn’t have anything to write yet.

Robin exhaled loudly, clapping him on the shoulder like he’d also just agreed to pay the tuition for whatever fancy school Henry and Roland went to. “Thanks,” he breathed, nodding towards Ariel as she moved back towards the door and the emergency. “Just bring them back home when you’re done and Gina will probably let you eat dinner with us. Scarlet can come too.” “Wow, gee thanks, Locksley,” Will muttered, slinging his cameras back over his shoulders. “No can do though. I’ve got a date.” “What?” Killian and Robin shouted at the same time. Robin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Who?” Killian pressed and Will just grinned, a stupid, frustrating look that made him regret coming into the office to begin with at all.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells. Go save Locksley’s kids, Hook. I’ve got places to be.” He walked out of the office with the grin still plastered on his face and cameras hitting against his thigh, Ariel already loudly comforting Aurora on the other side of the floor. Robin didn’t move an inch, just kept staring at Killian like he was waiting for him to explode.

Killian wouldn’t have been surprised if he did.

Maybe he should take a cab.

“You ok?” he asked. “Honestly?” Killian’s lips twitched, the lie on the tip of his tongue getting twisted there. He nodded. Robin sighed. “You’ve got to work on that,” he mumbled. “Rol and Henry will be thrilled to see you. Don’t get ice cream.” It took Killian four blocks of stop-and-go traffic to decide, without question, that they were going to get ice cream. With sprinkles.

Living on the edge.

He’d probably expense it.

It took him another two blocks to decide he probably should have walked.

He handed the driver a handful of bills, promising he was sure, yeah, yeah, it’s fine as he dodged between oncoming traffic and made his way up 3rd Avenue. The school itself didn’t stand out much – set between the brownstones and ivy-covered walls that were the norm downtown, but Killian could hear voices and laughter and something that might have actually been a basketball bouncing.

Or multiple basketballs.

And if he was in the sudden habit of keeping track of how long it took to realize things, it would have taken Killian two seconds, one deep breath and four basketball dribbles to know, without question, he was in the right spot. The very solid weight colliding with the side of his jeans was also a good sign.

“K, K, K, K,” Roland mumbled, added a few well placed punches in between nicknames. It was somewhere in between punch two and three that Killian felt any lingering frustration over the conversation in his office – and the promise that he absolutely did not want to date Emma Swan – ebbing just a bit as soon as the seven-year-old next to him wrapped his arms around his thigh.

There were other footsteps running towards them and Killian dimly heard Henry yell Hook from the other side of the basketball court as he bent down to pry Roland’s hands off his jeans, hauling him up his side and groaning slightly when a knee collided with his gallbladder. “Steady on, mate,” Killian muttered. He got kneed in the liver that time.

“Roland, you can’t just run away like that,” said a flustered woman, sprinting towards them with wide eyes and a basketball tucked under her arm.

Roland made a noise, a mix between a scoff and a groan and Henry laughed in the background. Killian tried to look like an adult. “I didn’t run away, Mrs. Nolan,” Roland explained, sounding like he was detailing how to fix the coding emergency Killian had run away from. “I came to see K.” Mrs. Nolan’s eyes, somehow, got even wider, eyebrows shooting up her forehead and her mouth formed an almost perfect ‘o’ when she realized. She looked like a teacher, Killian thought, all bright-colored dress and a soft cardigan that matched the clip in her short, brown hair.

“Huh,” she said, regarding him softly and Killian felt like he was being judged. Or maybe examined to match up on previously reported facts.

That seemed like wishful thinking.

“Hook,” Henry said again, skidding to a stop in front of him and only avoiding another crash when Killian reached out a steadying hand. “How come you’re here? I thought Robin was coming to get us?” “Where’s Dad?” Roland asked. Shouted. He shouted the word into Killian’s ears. Mrs. Nolan was still staring.

“There was a thing at the site,” Killian explained, hitching Roland back up again when he started to droop, threatening to tear his shirt in half. “So I’m here. With ice cream as a bartering chip.”

Henry’s eyes lit up, smile practically sprinting across his face, and Roland was already yelling about chocolate chip cookie dough. Mrs. Nolan hadn’t blinked. “Alright,” Killian continued slowly, nodding back towards the sidewalk. “You guys ready to go? Do I have to sign anything or…” “Wait, wait,” Mrs. Nolan said quickly, tugging on Roland’s sleeve when Killian took a step backwards. “You can’t just leave.” “No?” “No,” she said sharply and he was back to feeling like he was getting detention. “I mean...who, well, no, I know who are you. But there are rules. An actual parent is supposed to let us know if someone different is going to be picking the kids up. You’re not on the list.” “That’s kind of insulting,” Killian muttered, working another laugh out of Henry and that was absolutely why he’d done it. He slung his arm over the kid’s shoulders – only a few inches shorter than him – and tried to plaster on his most convincing smile. “I mean, they clearly know who I am.” “The rules, Mr. Jones.” “You clearly know who I am.” Mrs. Nolan grimaced, a muscle in her temple jumping and Killian felt guilty for a moment. She almost looked too teacher’y. She shouldn’t look as stressed out as she was. Jeez. “Were you going to go next week?” she asked and that wasn’t the question he expected at all.

Killian opened his mouth to respond, but another voice joined the melee and his eyes were going to go permanently crossed if he kept trying to look at everyone at once. Ruby Lucas looked just as intimidating as she had in her grandmother’s Midtown restaurant the week before, only now she was wearing a Legend of Zelda t-shirt that was, clearly, far more interesting to the two kids in the conversation than Killian’s initial ice cream offer.

“What are you doing here?” Ruby asked. Straight to the point then.

“There was a coding emergency at work and Robin couldn’t pick up Henry and Rol,” Killian answered. “So I’m here.” “You know Henry and Roland?” “I mean, yeah, obviously.”

“K’s going to take us to get ice cream,” Roland added helpfully, squirming when Killian muttered a little quieter, mate against his hair.

Ruby quirked an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be writing?” “Shouldn’t you be practicing?” Mrs. Nolan tried to turn her laugh into a cough, ducking her eyes when Killian and Ruby both gaped at her. “I’m also helping out a friend,” Ruby said softly. “And we practiced this morning. Not that you’d know, since you’ve been missing in action for the last week.” “Is that a gaming term?” Killian asked.

Henry groaned. “Hook, we’ve been over this. You can’t call it that. It just makes you sound old.”

Ruby might have actually smiled. Mrs. Nolan laughed again. “Are you taking lessons from Henry?” Ruby asked knowingly.

“I have yet to find a better teacher,” Killian admitted. “In fact, post ice cream, that was the great, big Friday night plan, wasn’t it? Or it would be if we can leave. Mrs. Nolan’s call though.” “Oh man, laying it on real thick aren’t you?” Killian shrugged. “M’s did you hear that? He called you Mrs. Nolan. I’m going to tell Ruth.”

“She’ll probably think it’s nice,” Mary Margaret muttered. “This is a one-time favor, Mr. Jones. And only because I have no idea what a coding emergency is.”

“That’s ok, neither do I. That’s why I’m here. And let’s not do that Mr. Jones thing again, that’s incredibly weird.” She nodded, tossing the ball back to the group of kids behind her when they started shouting. “You didn’t answer my question, you know. About next week.” He hadn’t. He’d been hoping to avoid that. He was an absolute shit journalist. “I’m hoping to,” Killian said. Mary Margaret glanced at Ruby.

“Don’t you know?” “It’d be helpful for the story.” “And,” Ruby prodded, widening her eyes meaningfully.

“And I’m waiting for some more details,” Killian responded simply. Good. That was good. That was honest. Ruby didn’t look convinced.

“Well that’s dumb. I thought you were supposed to be a good journalist. Or at least a journalist who wanted to prove he was still good. Haven’t you won awards? Unless the Google results lied to us.” Killian pressed his teeth into his lower lip, swallowing back his immediate retort when he remembered there was a seven-year-old clinging to his side and an eleven-year-old under his arm and he was an adult, god damn. He could have this conversation – even if it felt like six different conversations at once.

“Ruby,” Mary Margaret chastised, flashing an apologetic look at Killian. “Ignore her. She’s been outside for too long, it’s throwing off her zen or something.”

“Ah, yeah, video game stereotypes.” “Exactly that. Can I, uh, can I give you some advice?” “Solicited or forced?” Mary Margaret’s eyes narrowed and Killian ducked his gaze, suddenly far more preoccupied with his shoes than whatever was happening on that blacktop in downtown Manhattan. Henry laughed against his side. “Suggested,” Mary Margaret corrected, reaching out to rest her palm on the arm he still had wrapped around Roland’s waist. “This is all vaguely...terrifying for, well, you know. But, uh, I wouldn’t have said anything to Regina if I didn’t think this could work. For all of you. And she totally Google’d your name on my couch a week ago.” Killian’s stomach twisted at that, several knots that even Liam probably would have been proud of forming in his gut. It might have also been Roland’s knee. And he could only imagine what she found on the internet.

Fuck.

He was going to get chocolate dip on his ice cream – forget the goddamn sprinkles.

“Ah, well,” he stammered, eyes still staring at his feet. “That’s...good to know. And I kind of got that impression already.” “Good.” “So what are you going to do about it?” Ruby asked sharply and Killian jerked his head back up. He nearly dropped Roland.

“Excuse me?” Mary Margaret sighed, her hand falling across her face until she was peering at them between her fingers. Ruby didn’t budge an inch. “I don’t think I need to repeat myself,” she growled. “How come you haven’t been back to practice? Or have a concrete answer about writing something for the cut? We’re totally going to make the cut.” “I know,” Killian said easily.

Ruby’s eyebrows pulled low, head tilted slightly and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Yeah?” “Why wouldn’t I think that?” “Shouldn’t you answer questions better? You’re a journalist.” “You keep throwing that fact in my face,” Killian laughed. “Trust me, I’m aware of it. And I’m purposely avoiding questions because I know how.” “That is infuriating.” “Try doing it on deadline.” Ruby grinned that slightly predatory grin, tongue pressed against her cheek and she turned to look at Mary Margaret again like she was looking for confirmation of...something. Mary Margaret nodded. “Ok,” Ruby said, holding her hand out expectantly. “I’m going to do something, but if you screw this up, I’m going to push you in front of the uptown 1. Got it?” “That is oddly specific,” Killian muttered. Ruby wiggled her fingers. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Your phone. I want your phone. I am helping you.” “Strangely enough, I’m not getting that vibe.”

Mary Margaret clicked her tongue, bumping her shoulder against Ruby’s and her face was nearly as red as the sweater she had on. “I can’t blame the sun again,” she mumbled. “This is just her.” “Phone, Jones,” Ruby commanded and Killian dropped the thing in her hand without another word, having to shift Roland just a bit in the process. Several of his internal organs were going to suffer permanent damage from this conversation. “You learn anything about the game yet?” she continued conversationally, typing something into his phone and handing it back to him with a glint in her eye.

Killian glanced down, breath hitching in his throat when he saw the brand-new name in his contacts. Swan. No, Emma. No, Emma Swan. Just a last name and, maybe, a nickname and Ruby probably hadn’t been asking about Overwatch.

“That’s a distinct work in progress,” Killian admitted and Ruby hummed. “I can almost name all the characters now though.” “We’re working on powers,” Henry added. “And why Roadhog is the worst character to play.” “What?” Ruby gasped. “Please, kid. That chain hook is a huge help when you’re fighting in close quarters. And he doesn’t take much to get back to full health. He’s an underrated character.” Henry shrugged. “I like Doomfist.” “You can play Doomfist?” “Yeah,” he nodded. “The canon is sweet.” They were never going to get ice cream. And Roland was getting impatient. “Alright, kid,” Killian interrupted, pulling on the back of Henry’s shirt when he ducked out from underneath his arm to try and recreate a part of the game. “C’mon. I promised Robin you guys would be home eventually. And if we’re going to sneak ice cream, we’ve got to go now.” “Ice cream,” Roland repeated shrilly, lunging towards Henry and nearly face planting on the ground. All three adults in a five-foot radius moved at the same time. “Henry, we have to get ice cream!”

“Yeah, yeah, ok” Henry agreed, albeit a little despondently. “But, uh, could I maybe come watch you guys play next week?” he asked, glancing hopefully at Ruby and Killian.

“Of course,” Ruby promised quickly. And maybe just a bit enthusiastically. “I mean, well, as long as it’s cool with your parents. And Killian. If he’s planning on actually showing.” “I am,” Killian said.

Ruby smiled. “Then absolutely. We’ll get you a team t-shirt.” Henry looked like he was actually going to start jumping for joy. “And maybe one for Killian too if he learns how to play the game.” He needed to find other adult human beings who were able to have a conversation without trying to actually hit him over the head with meaning.

They, eventually, did get ice cream and were no less than forty-five minutes late to dinner. None of them ate dinner. They’d had ice cream instead.

And Regina was going to kill him.

“Seriously?” she hissed for what was, at least, the forty-second time since Killian had walked into the full-floor apartment on Spring Street hours before. Roland was asleep between them, head on Regina’s lap and feet draped over Killian’s legs, while Henry tried to explain what it was something called a Junkrat did and why he was so important to winning the game.

The actual one. Not the metaphorical one.

“You fix the coding on the site?” Killian countered and Regina raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Make any other assistants cry?” “Ass,” she grumbled.

“You’ve got to come up with better insults, your majesty. These are just getting redundant.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing her fingers over Roland’s hair. “I only have one assistant. By the way.” “I didn’t know you had any. People like to keep me out of the loop.” “Including your sources?” “You checking up on me?” Killian asked, hoping against some kind of improbable hope that sarcasm and even more deflection would get him the hell out of the conversation. Not with Regina. And not in her domain. Or something. The whole goddamn city was her domain at this point. Maybe that’s why he was still staying in a hotel uptown.

Regina leveled him with an even stare, eyes boring into his brain and possibly his soul and Killian wouldn’t have been surprised if she was just reading his mind when his phone started to ring – loudly. Roland grumbled, one foot pressed roughly into Killian’s thigh as he tried to grab his phone off the coffee table before it could actually shatter or Regina could keep hissing god, turn your volume down.

He nearly dropped it.

Swan.

“Huh,” Regina said, peering at the screen over shoulder. “Must be nice to have sources that return your calls.” “You say that wistfully, your majesty,” Killian muttered. He couldn’t seem to move.

“Answer your phone, Killian. Preferably in another room.”

He tried to extricate himself from what felt like the limbs of several seven-year-olds, careful not to knock Roland off the couch as he moved towards the hallway and swiped his thumb across his phone screen. “Hello?” he asked softly, dimly aware of Regina’s not-so-quiet laughter.

“Uh, hi, hey,” Emma mumbled and he was smiling. He could feel the muscles in his cheeks move, lips quirking up quickly and automatically and, well, that was weird. He stopped three-quarters of the way down the hallway, sliding down the wall and stretching his legs out. He hadn’t actually said anything back. “Killian?” she asked.

He hit his head on the wall.

“Yeah, yeah, here,” he said quickly, nearly stumbling over the words in an effort to get them out. “I, uh, is everything ok, Swan?” “Yeah.” Silence. Dead silence. Dead, uncomfortable silence.

“Well, no,” Emma corrected softly and those knots in his stomach had made a rather glorious return. “I...I wanted to apologize.” “For what, love?” The word was out of his mouth before he could even consider it and he heard the change in her breath, the soft catch like she couldn't quite get enough of it. Killian knew the feeling. “Sorry, no nicknames.” “You’ve broken that rule twice already, you know.” “Yeah,” he laughed softly. “I realize that. It’s, uh...habit, I suppose.” “You frequently call all the girls nicknames? Set ‘em at ease so they start spilling their on-the-record guts?” He shook his head, only realizing he was still sitting in a hallway when Emma laughed in his ear. “See, your silence kind of answers the question for me.” “I can neither confirm nor deny that it is sometimes easier to get information out of sources when one is trying to be decidedly charming.” If he got Emma to laugh like that – simple and easy and like some tiny, warm light that seemed to seep into the very center of him in the hallway of an apartment he didn’t live in – Killian would be certain coming back to New York was the right choice.

It kind of felt like the right choice.

“So what you’re telling me is you think you’re charming?” Emma asked.

“Decidedly.” “Is that what you were trying to do before? Last week I mean. Charm me to get me to talk?” “No,” Killian said, an immediate and honest response that sounded like he was shouting the word into the phone.

She stopped laughing and Killian resisted the urge to sigh at that. “Didn’t even bring a pen,” she whispered. Fuck.

“Shit journalist.” “That’s not true,” Emma argued, voice just a bit stronger than it had been all conversation. “I mean...well, that’s not what the internet said.” Killian narrowed his eyes – Mary Margaret’s words from that afternoon ringing in his ears. She totally Google’d your name on my couch a week ago. “Did you look me up, love?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t actually crack like some prepubescent kid with a crush.

That kind of went with the theme of the day.

“Did you really win a Louisiana Press Association Award for exposing a drug ring in New Orleans?” Huh. She must have Google’d for a very long time. And that felt like some kind of distant memory – he’d been in the hospital when they held the fucking awards ceremony. He never even saw that plaque.

“Killian?” Emma pressed. He hit his head again.

“Yeah.” “Was that an answer to the original question or just acknowledging me shouting your name?” He laughed – sharp and shaky, but a laugh all the same and he wished he’d called her first. Ethics. There were ethics involved and this had gotten very murky, very quickly. “Both,” Killian smiled. “How far back did you go on those search results, Swan?”

“Mary Margaret shouldn’t gossip like that. It’s very unlike her.” “To be fair, she was distracted. A charming guy like myself, shows up at her school and promises two adorable kids ice cream. It’s no wonder she didn’t just start spilling your entire life story to me by default.” Emma made a strangled noise, a gasp and maybe sheer terror and Killian was back on his feet quickly, heart hammering against his chest as he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong. “Swan? Are you ok?” “Fine,” she bit out, exhaling loudly. “Fine, I’m fine. Jeez. I’m...this conversation is garbage isn’t it?” “Confusing,” Killian conceded. “I wouldn't call it garbage, though.”

“Generous. You want to talk about the Louisiana Press Association now?”

“What about it?” “Exposing a drug ring seems a far cry from video game stories,” Emma said. “And mass murderers in Boston.” He chuckled under his breath, sinking back onto the floor and tugging on his hair. “They’re all stories in the end, Swan.” “Good ones?” “Some more than others.” “Follow-up?” “Yeah, sure,” Killian said and he was absolutely the one being charmed. God, he should have asked Mary Margaret more questions. He was too terrified of Ruby.

“Why go to the mass murders? I mean, was that, like, a personal decision or a front office thing? Is that even a journalism term? Front office? Editorial! That’s what it’d be called right, editorial? And why stick in Boston? That’s the longest you were in one spot for a really long time. Even longer than New York and….” She cut herself off, gasping slightly when she realized her follow-up was more of a short speech. Killian was grinning like a fool at the opposite wall. “Shit,” Emma mumbled. “That was a lot. You should have told me to shut up.” “I didn’t want you to shut up.”

“Oh.” “Start from the beginning, huh?” Emma hummed and he could almost picture her sitting across from him – the way her tongue had darted across her lips when they sat in the booth, how she twisted her hair around her fingers and rolled her shoulders when she was nervous.

“Alright,” he began. “So I grew up in New York, went to school here, like I told you, started writing here until...circumstances changed. And so I left. Went to Colorado for a couple of months because it was the furthest thing from New York I could imagine. Realized I couldn’t quite stand mountain air or, you know, mountains. Then did stringer work at what felt like seven-hundred newspapers on the west coast, liked that a little bit more, appreciated the Bay Area for the water and the seafood. Then got a job offer in New Orleans and stayed there for…”

He squeezed his eyes closed, memories washing over him, scents and sounds nearly reaching out and smacking him in the face. He glanced down, staring at his left hand and half expecting to find someone else there.

Of course not.

That was a long time ago.

“So, I stayed in New Orleans for a little over a year,” Killian said. “Started covering news, breaking or otherwise and that story you’re talking about, the one that won the awards, it, uh, took me my whole stint in the city.” “Is that why you left?” Emma asked breathlessly.

“Kind of.” “And you just figured you start with the drugs and turn to homicides because….” Killian shrugged, treading on thin ice in late August. “It made sense,” he admitted, a quiet explanation he’d never actually said out loud. “No one else wanted it. So I took it because I could. They were stories.” “Control,” Emma whispered and Killian made a noise in the back of his throat. “You wanted to have some control.” Well, fuck.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “That’s...exactly it, actually.” “Yeah, I get that.” They lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t quite as deadly or uncomfortable as it had been before. It felt a bit like understanding. And maybe he was reading way too much into a second conversation.

“Why did you want to apologize, Swan?” Killian asked, wincing when his voice cut through the silence.

She laughed. “Oh, for M’s and Ruby. This afternoon. On several different fronts. Including M’s being difficult about you getting ice cream to the aforementioned adorable kids. Although, out of context that does sound kind of weird.” “She was doing her job.” “Yeah, she’s fairly certain her job is to mother me.” “That’s not a bad thing, Swan.” “No,” she sighed. “It’s not. But she shouldn’t have to. Not anymore at least. And, maybe, I’m apologizing for something else too.” Killian sat up straighter, pressing his phone against his ear with his shoulder and rubbing his thumb against the top of his brace. “What’s that, love?” “For not telling you when and where the cut was and that I, well, I mean, the team, we’d like you to be there. For the story.”

For the story.

Right. Of course. No other reason except the story. Certainly not because he’d just explained Killian Jones, crime reporter with an extensive knowledge of blood adjectives for the first time since his inception seven years before.

That would be insane.

“That’s alright, Swan,” Killian said, hoping to infuse some sort of belief into the words and the nickname. “That’s not your job. Any journalist worth his salt would have been able to figure it out. Or gotten in contact with you.” “Is this your sly way of saying you didn’t want to contact me?” He nearly screamed the word no into the phone. He probably would have woken up Roland. And he could hear Emma’s smile in her laugh on the other end of the phone, a couch creaking slightly when she moved. “So that’s a no, then?”

“That’s a no.” “Friday. Playstation Theatre. Like all day. We’ll be the ones wearing questionably tacky matching t-shirts, so you should probably put that in your lede.” “Noted.” “Ok,” she said and it sounded like she was still smiling. He really hoped she was still smiling. “So I’ll see you then?” “I’ll text you when I leave.” Killian grimaced, eyes snapping closed again and shit – step too far. At least he hadn’t called it a date. Thought it, sure. Goddamn fucking ethics.

“That sounds like a plan,” Emma muttered and maybe this wasn’t a disaster. “Do you...do you like coffee? I could bring you coffee.” “I like coffee,” Killian grinned.

“I’ll be the one with coffee then.” “Good. Good night, Swan.” “Night, Killian.” He sat on the hallway floor for at least another five minutes after the phone went dead, grumbling out a quiet shut up when he saw Regina’s knowing look as soon as he walked back into the living room.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs #cs fic #video game fic #in which everyone has thoughts and opinions on emma and killian #as a collective unit

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zaolat · 6 years

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Consequences

so my salty ass hates the Fall of Osiris comic with every fiber of my being so i wrote a fix it fic that ignores it entirely lmao

tagging @dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd and @littleshebear in it because their salt fuels mine, as well as @house-of-kells because their fix it fic inspired this one

the Speaker is mine now and Bungo can’t have him back

note: if the formatting messes up just read it on my blog it’s being fucky for some reason (edit: yep it’s being fucky just click the readmore it fixes it i swear)

“Ikora,” the Speaker says warmly as the younger Warlock enters the Observatory. “Thank you for coming. I am sorry to pull you away from your duties, especially at a time like this.”

Osiris’ apprentice looks nervous, and he does not blame her. Especially with the responsibilities she has had to take up. The Fallen are only a week away, marching on the City en-masse, and their Vanguard Commander is nowhere to be found. Lost in his own...obsession. Stirring up conflict in the City at a time when they need unity the most.

The doors close behind her, and she glances back, her Ghost’s nodes shifting nervously from where he hovers over her shoulder. The Speaker’s own Ghost gives a sigh, noting their obvious discomfort. [“Relax. You’re not in trouble.”]

Ikora’s shoulders sag a bit, the tension easing out of them, and she stands up straighter, her expression morphing into one of professionalism. “What’s this about, Speaker?”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit, looking away from Ikora briefly to glance out over the Traveler, the City. Everything looks peaceful from up here, as if nothing is wrong. But that’s far from the case. The Fallen are marching on their walls en-masse and the people are in a state of panic while the Guardians prepare.

And where is their Vanguard Commander?

Everywhere but where he’s supposed to be, apparently.

His former apprentice has lost his way. And while he sees what he is trying to do, this is neither the time nor the place for it. So they must do what has to be done.

Does he want to? Does he take any pleasure in stripping his former apprentice of everything he’s worked so hard for? No. But they cannot continue like this.

“You and I both know what this is about,” the Speaker says forlornly, turning back to Ikora again. She says nothing, but her expression says more than any words could ever say. “How goes the coordinating of the Warlock Orders?”

“I will have to ask Osiris-”

“Ikora.” He holds up a hand, shaking his head. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know you’re covering for him.”

She sighs, as if she’s been expecting this conversation. In all honesty, she probably has. “Someone had to,” she says firmly. “His...research is very important, Speaker.”

“Yes...his research. Vex simulations and timelines. Did any of his research tell us the Fallen would be marching on our doorstep?”

“I...I don’t know. He never mentioned anything of the sort.”

“Hmph.” He folds his hands behind his back, pacing in front of her. He’s trying to hide his own anxiety about the entire situation - Osiris has been a valuable asset, especially after his actions at Six Fronts. But that was then. What has he done recently but obsess over the Vex? “Research is important. And maybe he’s right. Maybe these...simulations he speaks of could help us predict the future. But the thing about the future is that it is always in motion. But what good is all of that if it turns their attention on us? Right now they largely ignore us, unless we are on Mars or Venus or Mercury. Osiris speaks of the Vex as a threat, but what good is all of that, what good is all this talk of the future, if the very real threat in the present is ignored? If we ignore this threat there will be no future.”

Ikora is silent for a few moments, a conflicted expression on her face. Her Ghost looks between the Speaker and his Ghost, as if trying to read them. The older Warlock sighs, taking a few steps closer to the two of them. “Ikora…”

Ikora closes her eyes briefly, then opens them. “It’s not,” she admits. “He’s obsessed, Speaker. I couldn’t pull him away, even to talk about the defense of the City. He just told me the Vex are the real threat.”

[“He and Sagira barely even acknowledge our presence anymore,”] Ikora’s Ghost says, sounding insulted on the behalf of both him and his Guardian. And though Osiris may not think so, it is an insult. It’s easy to see that Ikora Rey is brilliant, well respected among all Guardians.

The Speaker sighs. So this is what it comes down to. Osiris won’t even listen to his own apprentice. “Something must be done.”

“But what?! Speaker, I know he has lost his way, but-”

He holds up a hand, and she falls silent. He sighs. This entire situation is giving him a headache. He hates putting her in a position like this, where she must choose between the people she loves and her duty to the City.

“I know you care greatly about him. He is your mentor. He was my apprentice, too. But we can both see how far he has fallen. We need our Vanguard Commander now more than ever. And he is simply not there.”

“I know.” The words are like an admission of guilt, Ikora’s carefully crafted expression falling. She has had to be so strong for so long, to carry the burden that shouldn’t be hers.

“You’ve been coordinating the Warlock Orders, and have handled the responsibility with grace. I would ask that you continue to do so, for the time being,” the Speaker says, moving forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

She doesn’t shrug him off, instead looking straight at him, as if she could see his expression through his mask. If she could, she’d see a million different emotions. Anger, sorrow, regret. He closes his eyes briefly and sighs, drawing his free hand down over his mask.

“And what of Osiris?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Speaker sighs again, tearing his gaze away from Ikora’s. “I need your help, Ikora. You are the one person he may still listen to. And if not him, I know Sagira values your input.”

“I don’t think he’ll listen to anyone at this point. Not even me,” Ikora admits quietly. She sighs and pulls away from him, pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes closing briefly. He can’t imagine how frustrated she is, to have her own mentor brush her off. Someone she was supposed to be able to rely on. “What do we do in the meantime?”

The Speaker sighs. This is the part that will be the hardest, for both of them. He folds his hands in front of him, and she stands only a few feet away, a questioning look on her face. But her eyes are full of conflict. He can see worry, anger, and doubt in them. And he doesn’t blame her one bit.

“I have spoken with the other members of the Vanguard and the faction leaders,” he says, and Ikora makes a noise of surprise. A Consensus meeting that Osiris wasn’t invited to. “Off the record. For now, we have agreed to strip Osiris of his role as Vanguard Commander and Warlock Vanguard.”

Ikora gives a deep, long sigh. She knew this was coming. They both did. [“Who will coordinate the defense of the City?”] her Ghost asks, his nodes shifting and voice full of worry.

“Lord Saladin has stepped up as temporary Vanguard Commander for the duration of this crisis. And you have done a fine job coordinating the Warlock Orders in his place. I would ask you continue to do so.”

She straightens, and in that moment he is proud of her. She has stepped up when no one else has, in a time of deep conflict both in the City and outside it. She will make a fine Warlock Vanguard, when this is all over. “It would be my honor.”

“I know you will do the job well,” the Speaker replies warmly, placing both his hands on her shoulders, and she gives the smallest of smiles. But then she is all business.

“Something still needs to be done about Osiris.”

“Go to him. Try to make him see sense, and inform him of what we and the Consensus have discussed here. If he refuses to see reason, further action may be required.” Ikora nods firmly, but there’s conflict in her eyes again. They both know what “further action” means. And neither of them want to do that. But something unspoken passes between them at that moment. Sacrifices must be made, even at great personal cost.

For the good of the City.

He lets his hands fall off her shoulders, and then she’s all business, nodding to him respectfully. “I will go to him immediately. Hopefully, he will at least see reason.”

They both know their fellow Warlock is too stubborn to do such a thing.

“Take a contingent of Guardians with you, just in case. He always has those...cultists, hanging around him. As much as he dislikes them, he does little to dissuade them. We don’t know how they’ll react. And...thank you, Ikora.”

She nods to him, and he motions for his Ghost to open the doors. She strides with purpose out into Tower North, and he watches her go, both pride and sorrow in his eyes beneath the mask.

Nothing will be the same after this.

The doors close behind Ikora and her Ghost, and they’re alone in the Observatory once more. The mask and cowl are removed and the Speaker draws a hand down over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving a long sigh, his other hand running through his long white hair. A nervous habit.

[“Vadim,”] his Ghost says, speaking his name in the quiet of the Observatory, with just the two of them, her tone hesitant. [“Are we doing the right thing?”]

Vadim gives a sigh, his hazel eyes flickering to his Ghost before they both turn to look out over the City. “I hope so, Maria. I hope so.”

#the speaker #ikora rey #destiny fanfiction #mine: writing #fanfic: destiny #c: vadim yousafzai #c: maria #this was brought to you by SALT #and written in like half an hour #vadim is my version of the speaker and i love him #the speaker is mine 1v1 me bungo #i've been fighting with the formatting for like half an hour i give up

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johnark · 4 years

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TJ Johnston retired from sawmill work in 1982 at age 65. He was living in the Hope house at 707 East Division Street. He had always done most of the work around the house and very seldom hired outside help. The rain gutters in the house required cleaning. TJ failed to accept that he was now elderly and with less coordination, balance and strength. He undertook this task, one he had always done himself. He fell from the roof, injuring himself and was confined to the hospital. He chose not to go to the care of our family doctor, Dr. Jim McKinsey, in the Branch General Hospital where Vivian was the Chief of Nurses; but went to another hospital instead. Vivian commented that he would not receive optimum care in the facility that he chose. While confined in the hospital he suffered a heart attack and died, ten months after retiring. He had been a smoker for most of his life. While the fall did result in severe injury, surely it was demon tobacco that took his life.

Vivian was the Chief of Nurses at Branch General Hospital. In addition to her administration tasks, she also worked in the cancer ward of the hospital. She developed a chronic cough. Dr. McKinsey, who she worked with there, kept urging her to check out the cough. Finally she made a chest X-ray. She told me “when I saw those X-rays I knew I was looking at my death warrant.” She had lung cancer. She had been a smoker most of her life and was a smoker then. She had surgery but all the cancer could not be removed. She was given six months to a year to live. In about a year the cancer returned. It was demon tobacco taking another life.

I, John McLeod, also smoked as a youngster as most people did in those days. I smoked for about ten years and finally became disgusted with the filthy habit. This was before we knew that tobacco could and most likely would kill you if you used it. Ridding myself of the demon tobacco was the most difficult thing I did in my life. I attribute a heart attack I suffered in 1999 to the demon tobacco. Today I continue life with high risk from cardio vascular disease. I wrote a blog about the demon tobacco. Create a hyperlink on your computer with the following address, click on it, and you can read the blog. If you are reading this on a computer connected to the Internet, that is a hyperlink. Just click on it. https://JohnArk.Tumblr.com/tagged/tobacco

MELISSA’S FAMILY IN 2018

From the left: Bradley Mohon Papineau, Mateus Lima, Melissa Mohon Papineau, Anne Papineau Nelson, Mikael Nelson, William Edward Papineau.

In this narrative we have briefly stated that Big cared for her dying husband in difficult circumstance in Harrell in the early 1930s and later cared for her dying mother in her home in Hope. The comments about Big’s caring for her mother, Martha Frances, are on Pages 4 and 6 of this narrative. I observed this and was amazed at Big’s skill, patience, compassion and strength both physically and mentally in dealing with what I observed as a very difficult person and difficult situation. I was just a kid at the time, but I was mature enough to recognize an extraordinary life and death event unfolding in that room and appreciate what I was seeing. But even more extraordinary and astounding as well is how deplorable conditions, devastating events, surprising and disappointing betrayals around the final two years of the life of her husband, Dr. Charles Bennett Johnston (CB), were met with such extraordinary determination, loyalty, skill, organization, perseverance, compassion, dedication, endurance, improvisation, stamina, grit, moxie – need I go on? This was indeed an extraordinary situation confronted and overcome by a more than equally extraordinary person. I want to add to what has been said about this in this narrative on Pages 2, 21, 22 and 23.

Let me start by trying to establish the situation in the Johnston household in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Vivian told me that Charles B. Johnston died of Parkinson’s disease. This disease is a progressive, untreatable, incurable nervous system disorder manifested with movement disorders, autonomic dysfunction, neuropsychiatric problems among others. The end stage of Parkinson’s is an extremely distressing situation. Today hospice takes over at that point. Family cannot provide or endure care at that point. CB probably suffered with incontinence, insomnia, dementia, hallucinations, severe posture issues with back, neck, hips and was surely bedridden. Just think of a bedridden heavy man, drooling, urinating uncontrollably, with induced diarrhea to relieve constipation, depressed, and demented. It would have been impossible for Ruth to have cared for CB alone. However inexpensive, inexperienced assistance could have been available from the black community. Surely Ruth would have expected assistance from her children – Vivian 9 or 10, TJ 13 or 14 and Mary 16 or 17. The situation in CB’s room must have been hell. And probably smelled that way, too. Hell at that point and the future very bleak. The country was in the midst of the depression with 30% of the work force unemployed. Is this the reason that Mary dropped out of school, abandoned her family and ran away with Frank McLeod? What about family loyalty, personal responsibility, conscience? What did Ruth think when her oldest daughter abandoned her in the time of most need? Yes, abandoned. Fled. That’s the way it looks to me. Yes, living with Frank would have been “wonderful” compared to the hell that existed in the Johnston household. Had she stayed with Frank, as it turned out, it would have been a blessing for Ruth. But rather than escape from it, Mary returned just in time to add to that hell and responsibility for Ruth. I was born on 21 September 1931. CB was in the last, tortured year of his life. He died on 22 November 1932. So, in summary, the situation for Ruth at the return of pregnant Mary was: caring for CB in the direst and most demanding period of his declining health, supervising untrained CB care givers, caring for two high school children, managing a household, managing the family finances, and now Ruth has to organize the care of Mary and the child and deal with Frank McLeod. Probably Mary demanded that Ruth force Frank to marry her. The fact that Frank sent her home probably meant that he would not easily agree to this. Hiring an attorney and settling the situation through the courts if required was most likely out of the question because of finances, time element, physical location and life and death responsibilities. Probably in the interests of a quick settlement of the issue, Ruth and Frank agreed upon marriage, separation, no contact, no responsibility. And Frank went happily on his way, leaving Mary angry, distraught and pregnant. This situation would surely have overwhelmed a lesser person. That house in Harrell, still standing in 2020 (Page 23), is a small one and could not physically accommodate all the activity thrust upon Ruth. So, Ruth organized an unknown benefactor in Artesian, Arkansas to take in pregnant Mary and care for her and her child. Ruth organized for Dr. J. E. Rhine of Thornton, Arkansas to deliver the child. Today unmarried mothers is a common situation. In those days there was an immense stigma associated with this. Even divorce carried a stigma. Was the Artesian relocation for Mary to relieve her of the humiliation by her classmates, and perhaps relieve Ruth of the humiliation by her peers in Harrell? I don’t think so. I think it was just a byproduct of the situation; that the relocation was dictated by the turmoil in the Johnston household at the time. It was life and death “crunch time” in the Johnston household and Ruth did not have time for social contemplations. Probably Ruth did not have the time or the inclination to convince Mary that this was the best course of action. She probably just informed Mary that this is what we are going to do and it is not open for discussion. If this is the way it was, and this supposition is logical in this circumstance, then it very well could have been a great point of contention and resentment Mary had for Ruth. So Mary went to Artesian, had the child and nursed to the weaning point where the child was sent to Harrell and Big’s care and Mary completed her high school education. Surely Ruth arranged this knowing that in the future Mary would be severely limited without at least a high school education. Ruth continued the management of the Johnston household which entailed the hospice care of CB; going into that room with its fetid, malodorous odor with compassion, skill and determination; the care of two school children; providing food for all of them; and financial control with dwindling resources, no income, no safety net from prior work or the federal government and the country in the midst of The Great Depression with 30% of the work force unemployed. Accomplishing all of this with a bleak future facing her could have been completely overwhelming, but she safely steered her ship of household through this massive storm to calm waters after the death of CB on 22 November 1932. The hell that had dominated the household for several years was passed, but the financial situation remained extremely dire. There was no income and the Great Depression and its effects loomed large. Now Ruth used her imagination and ingenuity. She began serving noon-time meals to the nearby railroad workers for twenty five cents per meal. The former college professor and wife of the town doctor found a way to overcome every obstacle. The next event confronting Ruth was the return to the family of Mary with her Artesian high school diploma, shown in photos on Page 10. It was soon discovered that Mary was once again pregnant. This revelation had to be distressing to say the least for both Mary and Ruth. I think this is where TJ told Mary ‘why can’t you keep your pants on?’ This infuriated Mary and she never forgot it. As stated in this narrative on Page 13, Mary, now an adult, nearly 22 years old and responsible for her own actions, was sent to the Witherington farm where her Artesian schoolmate, Frank Weisinger, was working to inform him that she was pregnant with his child and to see if he would marry her. He did the honorable thing and married her. Frank was a handsome, but simple man. His mind and world revolved around what was needed and what was required in the life of a ‘share cropper,’ which is essentially what he was. He had no vision of further education, of art and culture – only the farmer life that was presented to him. So Mary now the adult, nearly 22 years old, the daughter of a college professor and doctor, was left with the prospects and situation that she had created.

The Johnston household in Harrell continued with little money and scant hope for a better future. Even in very limited circumstances, Ruth never lost her sense of humor. A story she obviously told Vivian and which Vivian told me involved a hefty eater among the lunch time railroad men. Finally Ruth informed the gentleman that she was going to have to increase his meal price to thirty cents. He replied “Oh, Mrs. Johnston, I wish you wouldn’t do that. I have enough trouble now eating twenty five cents worth.” So in 1934 the Johnston household continued with its meager resources supporting Ruth, TJ, Vivian and John. This was the situation for the next four years. Then in the 1938 – 39 time frame Ruth’s brothers came to her rescue. They were prospering in the sawmill business in Hope, Arkansas. They invited the family to move to Hope and offered TJ an important job in the sawmill. The Johnston household world was transformed. The move to Hope, new situation and a change of life. The family income secured and hope for the future. Ruth happily joining her brothers and sisters with bright and unlimited prospects for her children and me. Mary was left with her prospects and situation that she had created.

#FamilyNarrative #FN20MAY2020 #JArkBlog30 #FNcolor20MAY2020 #FN2color20MAY2020

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