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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

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Meeting and Dating Samuel ‘Rocky’ Douglas

(My gif/there’s like no decent footage of ‘kick back’ online)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Rocky meet when you’re young. You’d lived next door to the Douglas family your entire life so it was pretty much inevitable that you’d end up becoming friends with at least one of the boys growing up.

- Funnily enough, it wasn’t Samuel that you’d befriended, it was Jeffrey.

- You’d tried to weasel your way into all the boys lives; and succeeded in becoming a surrogate older sister to Tum Tum over the years, but it seemed as though Sam just …didn’t like you very much.

- Any time you were around him, he’d seemingly try to get away from you as quickly as possible, or distract himself with something so that he could barely acknowledge your presence. He’d always cut your conversations short or give you two word answers and any time you felt as though you were having a break through, he’d seem to realize that he was being friendly and close himself off yet again.

- But Jeffrey, or Colt, would usually pull you away from his older brother anyways, distracting you with some game or activity that he wanted to play/do before you could dwell on his brothers borderline rudeness.

- Colt had never understood why his brothers …approval; for lack of a better word, mattered so much to you and for a while, neither did you. But the older you got, the more you realized that you’d always had a bit of a crush on the boy whether you knew it or not.

- But you couldn’t tell Colt that. Instead, you had to tell him that you just didn’t want things to always be awkward when you joined him and his brothers on their little adventures; secretly sighing in relief as he accepted the answer.

- Unbeknownst to you, there was a reason for Rocky’s closed off attitude: he’d had a crush on you since elementary school and he’d, admittedly, never been very good with girls.

- So, while you were wondering why your best friends brother hated you, he was internally scolding himself for not being able to say more than two words to you before his knees felt like buckling beneath him.

- Considering how shy he was with you, things could have easily continued on like that for, well, forever. But then something changed.

- One morning, you arrived at the Douglas house and found yourself walking into a very tense atmosphere. You could tell that Colt was upset about something and given how quiet the rest of the table was, you assumed it had something to do with one of his siblings; assumedly Rocky from the way he was avoiding the boys occasional pointed looks.

- The minute Colt noticed you, he shot up out of his seat and pulled you out of the house with him, leaving you little time to meet the gaze of Rocky whose eyes immediately shot up to look at you.

- As you walked, you tried to pry some information out of the boy but it was pointless, he refused to answer any of your questions, opting to stay nearly silent or telling you that it “was nothing”; even though you knew better.

- It’s a whole week before things start to go back to normal but there’s still some tension between Rocky and Colt. Your dear pal Jeffrey, who once loved having his brothers tag along, now seems hesitant to allow his older brother to accompany you guys. …And here you thought things were awkward before.

- Another week goes by before you learn exactly what happened. You’re sitting at home when your mother calls you, telling you that you have a guest as you head to the front door. Standing in your foyer is Rocky, a sight you never thought you’d see, and the sheer surprise you feel upon seeing him makes you stop in your tracks.

- His eyes meet your frozen figure and he licks his lips, opening his mouth to say something before he shuts it again. A second passes before he manages to get out a “hi”, watching as you finally begin to walk towards him again.

- You give a quiet hello in response and a beat of silence passes between you before he asks if you can talk, letting you lead him outside after you nod.

- The two of you are quiet for a while before he turns and asks how you’ve been just as you’re about to say something to break the silence. You answer that you’re fine with a little laugh and you ask how he’s been before you ask the question that's really been on your mind.

“Seems like you and Colt have been fighting.”

“A little I guess.”

“Why’s that?”

“...Well uh …he found out something he isn’t too happy about.” You quirked an eyebrow up at his words and asked what it was.

“...That I …like...you.” He says slowly, as though he’s forcing himself to finally say the words.

- The phrase could mean a few things but you immediately know exactly what he’s confessing when he says them and a small smile finds it’s way onto your face.

“Yeah, you should never bring that sort of thing up to Colt.” You say, feeling an overwhelming urge to tease the boy just a little.

“Yeah I guess I found that out,” He laughs a little and you can hear the nervousness in it. “So, uh...” You hum questioningly and he continues. “What do you think?”

“Think about what?”

“About …about me liking you....”

“I think I like it,” You give him a smile. “I like you too Rocky.”

- The two of you have your first date at the beach. Colt and Tum Tum probably found out you were planning on going and just immediately went with you, forcing you to come up with ways to sneakily bond with each other during your borderline disastrous date. Regardless, you still enjoyed the day, even if you didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time alone.

- You share your first kiss when you arrive back home. Colt and Tum Tum had immediately gone inside while Rocky and you stayed behind to talk a little. He apologized for the brotherly ambush and you assured him you didn’t mind.

- He asked if you were sure and you laughed, nodding your head …then it just sort of happened. He leaned in and then you did and your lips met in a soft quick kiss before you pulled away and said a quiet goodbye.

- Colt may not have been too happy to spot his brother locking lips with his best friend but he got over it and gave his reluctant blessing, letting you accomplish your childhood dream of being with Samuel.

- There’s not a ton of pda in your relationship; mainly because his brothers are almost always nearby and he’s a little shy about that sort of thing. When there is pda, it’s usually pretty quick or on the friendlier appearing side of affection.

- His arm wrapped around your shoulder whenever you’re standing together.

- Sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around you.

- Handholding.

- Tight hugs. He always scoops you up in one whenever he wins a game or match.

- Cheek kisses.

- Soft, almost featherlight kisses.

- Hair ruffling.

- The two of you usually cuddle snuggled into each other with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, although, if you’re going to be completely alone, he must admit that he does enjoy spooning quite a bit.

- Gushing over him whenever he wears his glasses, assuring him that you’re not making fun of him and that he really does look good in them.

- Holding and momentarily stealing his hats.

- Singing songs together/singing along to the radio.

- Teaching him about your interests and hobbies. He likes learning about them and trying them out whenever he can; even though he’s probably awful at them or knows he won’t like them.

- He likes looking at you whenever you aren't looking. You’ll catch him staring at you after you snap out of a daze or look away from whatever it was you were gazing at. He usually just shakes his head with a small smile whenever you ask him “what”.

- When you’re together, you’ll probably want to hang out somewhere outside or at your house; considering he shares a tiny room with both his brothers and you’ll never be completely left alone if you stay there.

- His brothers constantly interrupting the two of you.

- Both his brothers and occasionally his grandfather teasing him about you. He gets really shy about the whole thing and they love embarrassing him before you show up.

- He tends to just call you by your given name, though it’s very likely that he or one of his siblings/grandfather will come up with a nickname for you and he’ll use that a lot.

- Playing baseball; or all the other sports he plays, with him. He likes being able to teach you and watch you get all excited when you get better.

- Going to his games.

- Letting him teach you karate. He always shoots his brothers dirty and warning looks when they laugh at you.

- Motivating and cheering him on at everything he does.

- He looks back at you whenever he’s going to do something, making sure that you’re watching before he does something impressive. He likes showing off when you’re around.

- Taking walks in the woods together.

- Climbing and sitting in trees.

- Talking over the phone/tin can. He always has to call you to say goodnight.

- Getting visited whenever you’re sick. He comes to make sure you’re okay and keep you company; even if he gets a little sick himself.

- He’s always jumping to help you; even when you tell him to do the opposite or that you don’t need his help. It’s endearing yet annoying.

- Riding bikes together.

- Playing video games together; he either lets you win or tries to sabotage you depending on the day.

- Helping him cook and bake. You’re usually joined by Tum Tum who you have to watch very closely to ensure that the food actually gets made instead of consumed before it’s cooked.

- Getting taken to meet his grandfather or having Rocky introduce you to the man as his girlfriend after the two of you get together; at his brothers insistence.

- He occasionally likes to sneak up on you and tap your shoulder from behind to make you jump. You can’t even be mad at him, not when you turn and see the smile he has on.

- He hates seeing you upset and always asks a bunch of questions in an attempt to find out exactly what happened, making promises and trying his best to cheer you up while he does so.

- He’s pretty reasonable when it comes to jealousy so he doesn’t get jealous very often. On the off chance that he does, he’ll be patient but will tell the guy to back off if he doesn’t leave you alone; and if he’s obviously making you uncomfortable.

- Speaking of telling guys to back off, he’s always ready to defend or protect you when necessary. He’ll also always go look for you when you disappear or are gone for longer than you should be, wanting to make sure you’re okay and that nothing happened.

- He has a habit of snapping when he’s embarrassed or mad so expect a snide comment or two. You’ll usually just say something along the lines of “ok geez” in response and a moment or two of silence will pass before the guilt gets to him and he sighs, beginning to explain himself and/or apologize.

- If you have a real fight, he’ll do whatever he can to make you forgive him. He always makes promises, even if he doesn’t exactly follow through on them; but he does have the best intentions regardless.

- He tells you that he loves you quite a bit; even though his brothers tease him for it. He just smiles at you and gives them a shove in response, not caring what they think.

- A guy who loves you through puberty is definitely a keeper so congratulations on finding your ninja, honey.

#3 ninjas imagine #3 ninjas imagines #3 ninjas headcanons #3 ninjas headcanon #rocky douglas imagine #rocky douglas headcanons #rocky douglas imagines #rocky douglas headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

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kandoesfanfics-writes · 3 years

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A Song Your Soul(mate) Sings

This is my Maribat Secret Santa for @my-northern-downpour. I hope you enjoy it! This is a soulmate!au based off of a trend on TikTok in which soulmates can hear each other when they sing. I extended this to include humming as well.

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The room was dark by the time he returned to his bed.

It was sparsely decorated, the six-year old boy not wanting much for potential enemies to use to conceal themselves. His eyes scanned the shadows, watching for the slightest movement, trying to see if there was anyone currently in the room. Seeing nothing that tickled his fight or flight instincts, he cautiously walked into the room before locking it behind him. He quietly barricaded himself in the room before walking over to his meager bed.

His body ached as he laid down to sleep.

Where there was not gauze or bandages was dark skin decorated with purples and blues of varying colors. The pain was a dull throb in his limbs as compared to the sharp pains in his joints. His stomach ached from the punishing training he'd been put through earlier that day. He hadn't wanted to train, but his mother had smacked him and told him to be grateful that he was chosen as heir.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, voilà le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel j'appartiens…"

The joyful echoes in his head began again, right on time. The echo sounded child-like, like the singer was someone his age. The echo sounded feminine, and he wondered why such a feminine voice would be echoing in his ears. He wasn't a girl after all so why did it sound like a girl? Why couldn’t he talk to that echo either? He could always have conversations with himself, but the feminine voice never answered him.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu'il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose…"

It wasn't in a language he knew either. So far Mother had only taught him Arabic and English. The strange foreign vowel sounds and unfamiliar words made no sense to the little boy. Why was he hearing a voice speaking in a strange tongue?

And was he the only one?

Mother and Grandfather had never talked about hearing strange voices in their heads. Neither had any of the others the little boy had met. If they heard the voices too, wouldn't they have talked about them? Why would Mother and Grandfather hide the knowledge from him… unless they didn't share the same experiences.

The little boy did not fear the voice, but he vowed never to speak of it. While he did not believe the voice was a threat, he did not wish to be seen as defective. He saw what had happened to those deemed unworthy of his Grandfather's presence. He did not wish to die…or worse, go through painful procedures to get rid of the voice in his head.

"Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie, et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat…"

As he curled into a ball, his daggers close at hand, he listened to the cheerful voice. He listened to the way the strange words would roll, and occasionally stutter, through his mind. It wasn’t terrible...if he had to be honest, it was rather relaxing. The sound was more often than not soft and gentle sounding compared to the harsh orders barked at him daily. Sometimes the voice had giggles and laughter interrupting the words, sending a strange warmth through him. He could feel himself relaxing enough to sleep, but he forced his green eyes to stay open as he wanted to hear more.

“Des nuits d’amour à plus finir, un grand bonheur qui prend sa place, les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent, heureux, heureux à en mourir…”

He could feel sleep overtake him as he listened to the happy voice, glad that at least one thing in his life radiated warmth and was not tinged with fear.

He hoped Mother and Grandfather never found out.

Damian didn’t want the voice to go away.

————————

“Why do you keep singin’ if you can’t hear them, Mari?” a dark skinned boy asked, picking apart the sandwich his mother made him.

“Because Maman explained that some people can’t sing, Nino!” a little girl with paler skin responded. “Maman said that sometimes people are born without the ability to talk, or they get hurt real bad and can’t talk no more. She also said that sometimes people have a hard time hearing or can’t hear at all, so they learn FSL instead of talking with their mouth! What if my soulmate is like that? They’d be real lonely if I didn’t sing to ‘em!”

The little boy adjusted the small red cap on top of his head and said, “I guess that makes sense.”

The little girl nodded, her bob swinging a little with the force of her movements. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her best friend, Nino Lahiffe, were sitting in her parents bakery, enjoying lunch. Nino was picking apart his food, not feeling very hungry after Chloe Bourgeois called him chubby. Despite Marinette telling Nino he wasn’t chubby, the little boy seemed to be down in the dumps. Marinette had tried to cheer him up by asking about the song he could hear his soulmate singing as Nino was very excited that he was hearing his soulmate more often now.

That had brought them to the conversation of Marinette’s soulmate...who she had never heard before.

Marinette knew her friend wasn’t trying to be mean by asking about it, and that he was worried about her. It wasn’t common that soulmates couldn’t hear one another’s voices so long as both people were alive. If one couldn’t hear their soulmates voice it could mean that they might have died, that they hadn’t been born yet, or that the person didn’t have one. There were also instances where both soulmates were still alive and still couldn’t sing to one another, and that was the type Marinette’s mother had just recently explained to her— people who were unable to verbally communicate due to either issues with hearing or speaking verbally.

Marinette was nibbling on her sandwich too, secretly trying to reassure herself as well.

After all, Chloe liked to tease her that she didn’t have a soulmate.

Marinette shook her head, kicking her feet back and forth. No! Stupid Chloe was wrong! She did have a soulmate! They just couldn’t sing to her right now! Maybe they couldn’t sing at all, but that didn’t matter! As long as she kept singing, they would eventually find her voice...wouldn’t they?

“Hey Mari, do you wanna go to the park?” Nino asked, interrupting her train of thought. “I got a new football. It’s in my bag.”

Marinette smiled brightly, adjusting the straps on her pink overalls before saying, “Prepare to lose, Nino!”

The little girl jumped out of her seat and raced towards his backpack, the little boy following after her. Neither child noticed the dark haired woman watching them with a soft, sad smile. Her near silver eyes shone with love and concern as she watched her daughter go off to play with her best friend. She looked so happy...and Sabine desperately hoped she would stay like that.

———————-

...things at his father’s house were strange.

His rules were confusing.

No killing. None. In fact, Damian got into more trouble killing while with his father. It just didn’t make any sense to him! Hadn’t Mother told Father anything?! Hadn’t Mother told Father that he was going to be heir of both the cowl and the League of Assassins? He had to know how to kill in order to do that! He had to keep up with his skills to be able to maintain and grow to surpass anyone who would challenge him!

But Father told him that he didn’t want Damian to do any of that.

He told Damian that he wanted different things for him than his mother did.

And that confused him.

The other thing that confused him was his place in his father’s house.

With his mother and his grandfather, the dark haired ten-year old’s position was always clear. He was to be the Heir to the League of Assassins. He was to be stronger, sharper, quicker, and more deadly than anyone else in the League. He was constantly being tested by Mother and Grandfather too. He knew that if he did not perform to their standards then a punishment was in order...and they never let Damian forget how replaceable he truly was at the end of the day.

He might be considered more important than the other League members, but he had to continuously earn that position.

Richard Grayson didn’t seem interested in fighting him for the cowl...at all. In fact, the young man seemed to want to get to know Damian. He seemed to get over his annoyance at the younger boy’s appearance rather quickly, and he’d started getting into Damian’s space. He asked him questions, trying to learn more about the newcomer. He didn’t appear to be threatened by Damian very much either, which irritated the aforementioned boy severely.

Dick was quick to suss out Damian’s boundaries, and while he’d ultimately respect them, he was also quick to push them too. His excuse was that Damian needed to act like other ten year old boys, and his father had agreed. While Damian had at first hated it...he had to admit he’d grown fond of Grayson, as the second Damian began to feel anxious, the older one would cease his pushing.

Dick was...well he was an older brother, through and through. He loved Damian, but he wasn’t afraid to try and kick the younger boy’s ass either. Damian appreciated someone who could see he had skill but wasn’t scared off by it. Dick was insistent in getting Damian to learn more about ‘normal’ kid stuff. Dick was the one showing him kids’ movies, loudly singing along to the lyrics, making their father groan.

Tim...Tim still wasn’t okay with Damian. Damian wasn’t okay with Tim either. Damian was more willing to overlook Dick as he was his own superhero— Nightwing. Tim was Robin. Tim was the one who had his role, according to his mother. Tim was the one he was supposed to show he was superior too. Tim was the one he had to get rid of.

But that had made father and Dick extremely angry.

Tim fought valiantly for his position, which Damian respected, but he also seemed to be sticking to Father’s no kill rule. It was clear that Father trusted Tim much more than he trusted Damian. Tim was still with the family. Tim hadn’t been replaced by him. Tim still hung out with Dick, though he did it less when Damian was around. Tim also clearly had Dick’s trust as well, while Damian was still on thin ice.

The younger boy couldn’t explain why that upset him so much, but it did.

As Dick had explained it to him, and Alfred re-explained, ranks were based purely on seniority. Alfred was in charge of Bruce, and Bruce was in charge of them. Dick was the next in line because he was the oldest, then Tim, and then Damian. There wasn’t any fighting in order to gain the upper rank...and despite Damian being on the bottom, he was treated with just as much respect as a living person deserved.

He was allowed to point out holes in plans. He was allowed to talk during meetings. He was allowed to offer his opinion. He was allowed to fight with them...he was allowed to fight without fearing death.

For the first time in Damian’s short life...he was allowed to do things without the risk of death constantly hanging over his head. The most his father would do is bench him from patrols, stop him from training, and put him under house arrest. All of these punishments were preferable to the ones his mother would come up with, and he felt so much better about that.

He was freer to be himself here than he ever had been with his mother.

“Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right. Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right!”

Damian looked up from his oatmeal, grimacing at his elder ‘brother’ as said man skidded into the kitchen in a tee-shirt, boxers, and his socks.

It had been an entire year since his mother had left him with his father. He was eleven years old now, and he’d told his mother that he was staying with his father. He had thought he’d grow used to his ‘brothers’ antics, but it appeared that there was one thing he still wasn’t used to— Dick’s insistence that he break out in a random musical number anytime he felt like it…

“GRAYSON, would you please shut up! Tt, it’s too early for this nonsense!” the green-eyed boy said with a scowl. “Alfred, please tell him that he’s much too noisy.”

“No can do, lil’ D! I have to let my soulmate know I’m a-okay! And the only way to do that is sing!” Dick said happily. “Good morning, Alfred!”

The elderly man shook his head in fond annoyance before saying, “Good morning, Master Dick. If you eat cereal, please leave some left for Master Tim. That boy hasn’t been eating much, but I have been getting him to eat cereal...and do lower your volume, Master Dick.”

“...what the, and I can’t emphasize this enough, fuck are you talking about, Grayson? Where did you hear such nonsense?”

The kitchen fell silent as both Dick and Alfred looked at Damian in shock. Alfred hadn’t even corrected Damian for cursing, both men clearly fighting back and array of emotions. Dick appeared to recover first. His inquisitive blue eyes focused on Damian before he took a deep breath.

“Dames...you know what soulmates are right?” Dick asked slowly.

“What kind of asinine—”

“Master Damian, have you ever heard a voice in your head?”

Damian froze like a rabbit that had just spotted a predator. Despite the boy’s training, Alfred could see it in his microexpressions that the child was afraid. It looked like he had no idea how to answer the question, so the old butler took pity on him and continued.

“This voice...or echo doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It sounds like someone else...someone you may not know. It could be in another language, possibly, or it could take form in the sound of humming—”

“Almost everyone has one, Lil’ D...” Dick interrupted, his expression twisted with worry. “My soulmate sings back to me after I sing to him.”

The green-eyed boy’s jaw dropped, looking back and forth between Alfred and Dick in an alarmingly vulnerable way. Dick was about to go get Bruce before Damian let out the softest sound of shock and surprise he’d ever heard. He had to strain to hear what Damian said to Alfred next, hating how small and weak the proud boy sounded.

“I’m...I’m not crazy? She— she’s real?”

“Talia never told you about soulmates, did she?” Alfred said, taking the available seat next to Damian. “Of course you're not crazy, Master Damian. This is completely normal.”

Damian shook his head, looking anxiously at the butler and Dick. He thought the voice was just in his head! She was a real person? She was singing to him? Was he supposed to be singing back? Why could he hear her? Why him?

“Why we don’t explain what soulmates are first,” Alfred said softly. “A soulmate is someone whose soul compliments yours. You are whole as you are, Damian, but a soulmate is someone whose personality will compliment yours. They are the one person in the world who has the chance to know you as well as you know yourself. They’re a blessing to have, not a weakness to exploit.”

“In order to be able to find our soulmates, we have an almost telepathic connection of sorts. When our soulmates sing, we will be able to hear them in our heads. The same goes for when you sing. She’ll be able to hear you,” Dick added. “You will be able to find your soulmate through their singing. You’ll know when you’ve met her...Lil’ D...does your soulmate still sing to you?”

“Everyday...though the time has changed since I got to the states. I’m assuming she’s European due to the timezone difference and what I believe is a Latin-based language,” Damian mumbled, twiddling his thumbs. “Is that good?”

“That’s excellent, Lil’ D. It means she hasn’t given up on you,” Dick said with a grin. “So don’t keep her waiting anymore, okay?”

“Mother and Grandfather never talked about—is it safe? I assumed I was crazy because they never spoke of soulmates and neither did anyone else. I thought—”

“You’re not crazy, Master Damian,” Alfred said, this time firmer. “You are just like any other young man with a soulmate. You hear her voice when she sings to you, and you enjoy it, don’t you?”

“...it is a nice song…very pretty…”

“They probably saw their soulmates as weaknesses to their plans, but what they failed to realize is that soulmates are sources of strength as well. Do not be afraid to answer her now, Master Damian. She’s probably been waiting quite a while to hear your voice.”

Damian still felt like he was going to throw up, but he nodded. He was still tense as a freshly tightened spring as he watched Dick return to his breakfast. The older man started humming a tune that Damian recognized was a song from the movie they’d just watched the night before.

“Dick...what’s the name of that song? The one you’re humming from the movie last night?” he asked, trying to control his voice.

Dick raised an eyebrow, surprised by the use of his first name. He calmly told Damian that he was humming ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ as performed by Elton John. He said nothing further as he watched Damian make a beeline towards the door, clearly not wanting to speak anymore on the subject, and abandoning his oatmeal. He looked towards Alfred to see if he should bring him back to at least finish breakfast, but the butler shook his head.

“Let Master Damian go. This must be overwhelming for him as well as slightly invasive. Let him process.”

Little did Alfred know that Damian had already accepted that the voice was in his head. He had already accepted the voice that lulled him to sleep as a piece of him that he’d protect willingly and viciously. The only change was that he now understood why he was so keen on protecting the intruder in his head.

He wasn’t crazy.

She was real.

That song was real.

Everything she ever sang to him was real.

Damian wasn’t broken.

She was real.

———————

The last thing Sabine Cheng expected was for her daughter to be awake at seven thirty am, no matter how early she and her husband got up.

Her sweet little Marinette had never been a morning person, always sleeping in and making herself late. Sabine had tried to break her daughter of the habit, but she was just as stubborn as her father. Now Sabine simply tried to mitigate how late her daughter got up so that she wouldn’t be as late to things.

She’d gone to wake her daughter up as she had errands to run. Sabine needed Marinette to come with her to help carry some of the items they were picking up for her mother-in-law’s birthday while Tom worked the store. Neither parent expected the shriek that came from their daughter’s room.

Nor the disheveled state she came nearly crashing down in.

“MAMAN! PAPA!” Marinette shrieked, her hair half-in, half-out of her braid. “HE SANG! MAMAN, HE’S THERE! PAPA, MY SOULMATE ANSWERED ME!”

Marinette’s eyes were wide with shock as she spluttered, trying to get words out of her mouth. Her hands were flailing in every direction, trying desperately to articulate the words she couldn’t get out. She was still dressed in her pajamas, looking at her parents helplessly.

“Marinette! Marinette, you have to breathe, little dumpling,” Sabine said, grabbing her daughter’s hands. “Take a few deep breaths.”

Marinette took a deep breath, following her mother’s instructions of in and out. As soon as she had stopped practically vibrating out of her skin, Marinette grabbed her mother’s arms and said, “He sang back, Maman. He was so shy and stuttered a lot, but he sang back. He answered me!”

Tom looked absolutely relieved, his posture relaxing slightly. He had been worried about Marinette’s soulmate never singing back, and how that would affect Marinette. They knew that she’d been bullied by the mayor’s daughter for never hearing her soulmate sing, and they knew how bad that had made her feel. Tom then stiffened back up when he realized that Marinette’s soulmate sang back, and now someone would be trying to find his little girl.

Sabine couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her husband. Their daughter was only eleven, so she doubted that someone was just going to come and steal her away! However, she was very excited for her daughter. She kissed Marinette on the forehead before saying, “That’s amazing, little dumpling. You go get changed, and you can tell me about it while we walk to the store.”

Marinette nodded eagerly before pausing.

“Maman? Do you think we could get some English books? To help me practice and learn? I’m pretty sure my soulmate sang in English,” the dark haired girl said, biting the tip of her thumb.

Tom looked at his wife, waiting for her to give the nod of approval, before telling Marinette that of course she could get some English studying material. While Tom was apprehensive of the soulmate that just started singing (why hadn’t he sang before?), he wanted nothing more than his little girl to be happy. He kissed his wife on the cheek before walking back into the kitchen, continuing to work on the pastries.

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she raced back up to her room.

Her soulmate sang back to her!

She bounced over to her mirror, picking up her hair brush. She pulled out her hair tie, allowing the braid to fall apart completely. As she began to brush her hair, she picked up where her song had left off before her soulmate had tried to sing back.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose, il est entré dans mon coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c’est toi pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l’a dit, i’a juré pour la vie,” she sang, carefully braiding her hair.

She paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would try singing again.

Her soulmate sounded male, but it was hard for her to hear him. He sounded uncertain and shy as he stumbled across his words. Then he sounded a little bit upset before changing to humming a tune she was familiar with. He was humming “La Vie en Rose” which was a song Marinette sang very often, and that was another reason she believed he wasn’t French. He clearly knew the tune, but didn’t seem confident to say the words.

A familiar tune timidly filled her head, soft and sleepy. She felt affection well up in her chest as he continued to hum “La Vie en Rose” to her. Marinette could tell he’d been listening to her every time she sung him that song. He hummed every note perfectly until his voice began to drift off. Marinette wondered for a moment if that means he’d fallen asleep.

She finished getting dressed quickly after that, throwing on her pink sundress and black ballet flats. Blue-grey eyes sparkling with joy and excitement, Marinette practically ran down the stairs, causing her papa to call out to her to be more careful. She told her papa she would as she skipped over towards her mother.

She couldn’t wait to tell her mother about her soulmate humming her song back to her.

——————

It wasn’t until Damian was almost seventeen that he felt comfortable enough actually singing to his soulmate.

At first, he’d attempted a clumsy rendition of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”. He hadn’t been able to remember the words properly, so he’d gotten frustrated and embarrassed. She had been able to hear him messing up! He already hadn’t been singing back to her for years, and now his first attempts were pathetic! He had been worried about how she’d respond to him finally returning her songs, but he’d then begun to worry about what she thought about him screwing it up entirely!

Instead of giving up though, he had decided to hum her song back to her. He knew every note of that song, despite not knowing the words or the name to the song. He had hummed until she answered him back with her own bright cheerful song. She had sung the words, strange and unfamiliar to him, while he hummed the melody, creating the most beautiful sound Damian could have sworn he’d ever heard.

Her voice had sounded even brighter than before, and Damian could tell she was happy. After the first day, he’d noticed an uptick in his soulmate’s humming and singing. The more he’d returned her humming with his own, the happier her voice had sounded. It had warmed his chest in an inexplicable way...almost as if he’d missed her without ever meeting her until he hummed back.

Damian had reached the point where he could easily recall all of the words to Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, but he’d only hummed it to her. He hadn’t felt confident enough to attempt to sing it out loud again, but he was getting there in small steps. He’d been working on it, speaking the words out loud to ensure he remembered them as to not have a repeat of his first attempt. He had begun singing little bits and pieces to the song, which seemed to get the interest of his soulmate. He had fallen even faster for her when she began to show him what she’d been working on.

Singing in English.

Despite her difficulties, his soulmate had continued to try and sing to him in what she probably assumed was his native tongue. She had learned another language for him! She had learned one of the most difficult languages to learn (the grammar rules could be absolutely atrocious, and Damian hated it) just so he could understand her singing.

The least he could do was actually sing for her.

Especially since his soulmate had grown more somber and sad in the past few years.

Her songs seemed to have changed from the light-hearted melodies about love and life to heavier music, in both genre and topics. She’d never stopped singing the song he’d come to know as “La Vie en Rose” though. It appeared that she only sang it for him now because her voice was always quiet, almost like a whisper as she sang. Some nights she only sang a few words or not at all, which worried Damian greatly. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He hummed to her even when she was silent or didn’t seem to want to sing much.

Damian began to hum to her like she’d sang to him all those days while he still lived with the League. She had dealt with his silence for years, never knowing if she had someone on the other end of her connection. Damian only realized how terrifying that was when she’d gone completely silent for a day, not singing anything at all. He could toughen it out and hum to her until she felt like she could sing again, but it only got worse.

She had begun to sing in the softest, saddest voice Damian had ever heard.

It broke his heart to know she was in pain.

Which led him to his current situation, standing in a busy Parisian patisserie with his father and brother, singing to his soulmate for the first time.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day, when the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior, just to be with you,” he sang softly, ignoring the shocked looks of both Bruce and Tim. “And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight. How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”

The small Asian woman behind the counter looked concerned until Tim apologized and kindly informed her that Damian had never actually sang to his soulmate before. The woman chuckled before telling Tim that he didn’t need to apologize, and that their order would be out soon. Tim nodded, paying the kind woman before Bruce guided them both off to the side to wait.

The dark haired boy ignored his brother’s insistent questions, listening for her voice. She was still quiet, having stopped singing the previous song that had gotten Damian so concerned to begin with. He continued to sing, wanting his soulmate to know that even if it felt like no one else did, he cared about her.

He’d have to thank Dick later for his annoying pop music obsession, or he’d never have recognized Sia’s song “Breathe Me”.

“There's a time for everyone, if they only learn. That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn. There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors. When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours,” he continued, ignoring all of the sounds going on around him.

Just as Damian was about to sing the next section, the patisserie door slammed open. A tiny girl(?) with pitch black hair that was falling loose around her face came racing in. He could see tear streaks down her face as if she’d just been crying. Her body posture was defensive. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest, and her body was hunched over as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

A blond haired guy followed her into the building. He seemed out of breath with his face as flushed as it was. His green eyes reminded Damian of limes or acid, bright and loud. His entire demeanor displayed a nervousness as he tried to reach the girl, whose posture seemed to scream ‘I’m not okay’ the closer he got to her.

“Marinette, listen! It was just a joke! Alya said they didn’t mean it, and Lila already told the class to stop messing up your schedules,” the guy said. “Please, Marinette? Don’t be mad. You’re better than that.”

The young woman, Marinette, stopped dead in her tracks before turning around. With the more composure than Damian had thought she possessed, she simply said, “Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone.”

Damian felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He knew that voice like he knew his katana.

He’d never be able to mistake the voice that had lulled him to sleep so many nights.

That was her voice.

He knew her.

“And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds, believe the very best,” Damian continued, needing to be certain it was her.

He watched the young woman’s arms fall to her sides, looking almost startled. Her eyes, which he now noticed were an enchanting slate blue color that reminded him of a storm, were now darting around. Her petal pink lips, which looked so soft, were agape which hinted towards her being alarmed by something. Her posture straightened up as she scanned the room again. Not finding what she was looking for apparently, she slowly began to sing, her eyes searching the room once more.

“Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon coeur qui bat.”

Damian’s heart then decided to make a violent return to his chest as he could hear it pounding in his chest.

It was her.

Those were the last lines to “La Vie en Rose”.

It was her.

——————

Marinette, to say the least, had been having a couple rough years.

At the age of thirteen, she had been given the ladybug miraculous by the former Guardian and became the spotted heroine known as Ladybug.

At around the age of fourteen-fifteen, Lila Rossi had joined her class and the bullying began.

At the age of sixteen, she realized that she had less friends than she thought she did.

And now at the age of seventeen, Marinette was just done.

She hadn’t been able to locate Hawkmoth due to his increasing power, gaining Mayura as an accomplice, and her inability to keep a standard set of heroes. Some people had lost the privilege to wield the miraculous by breaking Marinette’s trust, and others had been compromised by Hawkmoth. This meant that everytime she needed assistance, she either had to combine the miraculous or give a rookie hero a crash course in superhero training.

Add to that Chat Noir’s endless attempts to flirt and get her to sing in front of him, and Marinette was ready to throw herself out a window.

Being a superhero with little to no training had been hard enough, but now she was the Guardian of the box! Now not only did she have to worry about her Kwami, Tikki, she had to worry about all of them! She would also have to do this with absolutely no training as well except from what the kwamis could remember/tell her.

And all of that didn’t take into account the Marinette part of her life either.

Her only solace had been her soulmate, who had slowly been learning how to sing. She had been surprised to hear attempts at singing, as he’d been humming almost consistently since his first attempt, but it made the ache in her chest feel lighter. Her soulmate clearly cared enough about her to try and overcome whatever had been stopping him from singing before, and it made her feel good. She had come to find the humming comforting, but she also found she enjoyed his voice while he sang too.

More grown up now, his voice was a deep baritone that settled into her bones and made her relax. She had found herself wishing she could talk to him more, wanting to hear words instead of humming. She had forced herself to be patient though. If her soulmate had had problems singing before, it was a possibility he’d only recently gained the capability to verbally speak. She didn’t want to be rude and push for more if that was the case.

Which was apparently something none of her classmates understood.

Marinette had walked into her classroom, only to find the planner she had painstakingly put together for the class in tatters on the floor. She’d left it for their teacher to use, as the teacher needed to add a few more dates in for school functions that had just gotten approved. She wished she could say she hadn’t been upset, but she was.

They’d stuck her with this thankless job, due to Lila not wanting to have to do anything, and this was how they repaid her?

She found it ridiculous that they were still bullying her over Adrien. Sure, she’d liked him when he’d first arrived. He was handsome and rather nice, and most girls had a crush on him. She knew he wasn’t her soulmate though. While he could speak perfect English (thanks to his aunt and cousin living in England, and his late uncle speaking mainly English), the time zone differences didn’t match up.

Her soulmate hummed at specific times, and Marinette had attributed that schedule to reflect their difference in time zones. If Adrien had been her soulmate, then the humming would have occurred around the same time Marinette was normally singing. Plus, she’d heard Adrien sing before when Nino had pressured him into doing it.

The click didn’t go off in her head and as a result, her crush slowly began to die out. She’d even explained to Alya the situation when she’d told her former best friend that she was giving up on dating Adrien. Alya knew that Adrien wasn’t her soulmate, so she didn’t want to waste her time on him.

So why had she joined Lila in bullying her?

Why had she conveniently forgotten that Marinette was completely over her crush and didn’t want to date him?

Why had she lied to Adrien about Marinette wanting to date her?

Most of all, why had Alya believed Lila over her?

Marinette hadn’t heard anyone apologizing to her when she raced out of the room, overwhelmed and upset. She was doing her damndest to control her emotions so that Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize her, but she could still feel the tears hot on her cheeks. She ignored everything else, storming back towards the patisserie, considering telling her parents she’d thrown up on the way to school and decided to turn around and come home.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing an English song she’d found while browsing around online. At first she wanted to listen to English songs to help her learn her soulmate’s language, but she did end up finding music and artists that she liked.

“Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there's no-one else to blame. Be my friend, hold me. Wrap me up, enfold me. I am small and needy. Warm me up and breathe me,” she sang, picking up the pace as she heard Adrien shout out her name.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day. When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you.”

Marinette nearly froze in her tracks.

Her soulmate had sung!

From the sound of his tone, he seemed worried about her. Marinette continued the song she’d been singing, only pausing when he began to sing his song back to her. She had continued walking on autopilot, taking comfort in her soulmate’s voice despite the fact that she could still register Adrien’s shouting in the back of her mind.

She slammed the patisserie door open, too shocked and upset to think about using the private entrance to their home above the bakery. She heard Adrien’s footsteps follow her inside. She had planned on ignoring him, not wanting to have another fight about whether or not Alya and Lila’s latest shenanigans had been ‘friendly teasing’ or not.

She was going to until Adrien opened his stupid mouth to tell her she was ‘better than this’.

“Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone,” she’d told him, firmly.

Before Adrien could respond though, she heard her soulmate sing.

Marinette felt like she’d been struck by lightning as she realized she’d heard an echo, meaning that he was also in the patisserie. He was here! He was here, and he was singing for her!

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in everyone who was present. She saw that her father and mother were swamped with orders, doing their best to keep the line short. There were several regular customers in line with a couple new faces, but no one who stuck out. There was a small trio off to the side, clearly waiting for their order.

They did not appear familiar at all but from the looks of their suits, Marinette wagered they were businessmen. Perhaps they were in the city on business? Or perhaps this wasn’t their normal stop for baked goods, but they came here because it was closer?

Still feeling anxious, she steeled her nerves and began to sing slowly, trying to find the one person who would react in the crowd.

Her eyes were drawn back to the trio, noticing how awestruck the one looked.

He was objectively handsome with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. He had tanned skin that made the two men next to him look rather pale in comparison. His hair was jet black and well groomed. He looked strong with broad shoulders, and Marinette was certain he had several inches on her as far as height went.

It was his eyes though that caught her attention.

They were a jade green, a bit darker than Adrien’s, but captivating all the same. They were also looking at her with a look of longing that for some reason didn’t frighten Marinette. He looked like he desperately wanted to come over to her, but he appeared to be waiting for something.

The second he realized she had her eyes on him, he opened his mouth and finished the song.

“It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best,” he sang, looking at her almost hopefully.

Marinette felt something in her mind click into place.

She also could swear she heard Tikki giggling from inside her purse.

The little kwami had always told Marinette she’d meet her soulmate one day. She’d also told Marinette that she’d meet him when she needed him most. The little red kwami had seemed extremely confident about that fact and about how her soulmate would be able to help her.

Feeling a nudge from her purse, Marinette swallowed before marching over to where the three men were standing. The one whose gaze had been fixed on her also began to step forward, meeting Marinette half-way. He smiled at her, but his eyes told her he was nervous.

“Hello, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, holding out her hand in what she knew was a traditional American greeting.

He took her hand but surprised her by kissing the back of her hand instead of shaking it.

“Hello, I’m Damian. You have a lovely voice.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she smiled back at him.

“You too...though I’d like to hear it more,” she replied, ignoring the fact he’d yet to let go of her hand.

The grip wasn’t harsh or uncomfortable...but rather warm and reassuring.

“Okay, seriously Demon Spawn,” the shorter man said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is going on, and why were you singing to your soulmate? You never sing out loud! Who is she, and why did you kiss her hand? Do you even know her?”

“Shut. Up. Drake,” Damian hissed, his cheeks coloring a bit. “Can’t you and Father give me a moment?”

Marinette could see the tension building, so she asked the question that had been bugging her since she was a child.

“Why didn’t you ever sing to me before we were eleven?”

This made the two men freeze. A look of realization dawned on them as they looked between Marinette and Damian. The younger of the two had the decency to blush a little bit, mumbling a ‘nevermind’. The older of the two seemed almost...relieved? Happy? Ecstatic?

“Terribly sorry,” the older man said with a smile. “My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m Damian’s father. This is his brother Tim Drake, who I adopted, hence the different last name. Damian, we’re going to take our pastries and head back to the hotel. You can meet us there when you’re done.”

With that, Marinette watched as Bruce pushed Tim towards the exit, still feeling a little confused and dazed. She returned her attention towards Damian, who looked very uncomfortable and upset. She almost told him to forget about her question until he said quietly, “...my mother never told me about soulmates. I wasn’t allowed to sing or hum growing up, but my mother never told me why. They never taught me any songs either. I mainly had to learn them myself. I— I didn’t even realize I was hearing another person’s voice until someone explained it to me.”

Damian was looking down at his shoes, but he managed to lift his head to look at her before continuing.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel lonely or unwanted. I tried singing to you at eleven because I started living with my father around that time.”

Marinette felt relieved and heartbroken all at once.

“You don’t have to apologize just because your mother didn’t tell you about this,” she murmured, getting closer to her soulmate. “I’m just relieved that it wasn’t because you didn’t want me.”

“Excuse me, but Marinette and I were having a conversation! Marinette, you can’t just ignore people! It’s rude! Besides, Alya and Lila are here to apologize.”

The dark haired young woman let out a hiss, making the man in front of her chuckle.

Adrien.

She’d nearly forgotten about him.

Marinette turned around to see that Adrien was glaring daggers at Damian. The blond walked forward and actually had the audacity to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She pushed her arm off of her and stood in front of Damian.

From her new position, she could also see the two harpies from hell waiting at the patisserie door. Alya looked only a little nervous, and Lila had her usual fake sad face on. She could also see the simmering anger in Adrien’s eyes as she chose the stranger over him.

“Oh! Marinette, there you are!” Lila crooned, latching onto Adrien’s arm. “We’re so sorry! We didn’t realize that was your book.”

“I thought you said it was a joke on me though,” she responded, looking between both of them. “If you didn’t know it was mine, why would the joke be on me?”

“We never said that—” Alya began, but Marinette just cut her off.

Reaching into her bag, she took out the little tape recorder she’d been bringing to school to gather evidence. She briefly rewinded it before playing it, the two girls’ voices coming through crystal clear. Her expression did not change as Alya and Lila began to scream about how she couldn’t just record them like that, scrambling to also include how recordings could be taken out of context or misconstrued.

“You’re only mad because Lila won’t let you have Adrien!” Alya shouted, gaining the attention of Marinette’s mother and the other customers. “You’ve had a crush on him forever, and now you’re jealous because you can’t have him because of Lila!”

Marinette could feel a migraine coming on as she bit out, “I. Don’t. Have. A. Crush. On. Him. Seriously? That crush was like a month, two months long before I told you I was over it?”

“Don’t you still love me?” Adrien interjected, looking like a sad puppy.

“Not any more than a friend,” she said bitterly, “but I have no idea if I can consider you even that now.”

“You’re a filthy liar! You so totally have a crush—”

“Excuse me, but could you three kindly fuck off?” a cold voice came from behind her.

Marinette’s head twisted back to see that Damian no longer looked all that shy or vulnerable.

“I’ve waited years to be able to hear her voice in person, as Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng is my soulmate, and I’d really like to get to know her. Without an audience of absolute buffoons,” Damian continued, still coming off cold. “She already asked you to leave her alone, Blondie. My suggestion is take your two bitches and leave before I make you.”

“Ugh, you’re so rude!” Alya snapped. “No wonder you ended up with a cheat like Marinette!”

Marinette felt a twinge in her chest as she looked down at her shoes. She wasn’t surprised Alya had said something like that, but it still hurt deep down. Alya had once been a dear friend of hers, and for her to say such terrible lies about her made her heart break. She went to call out to her mother when Damian let out a snarl.

“You’re the rude ones. You think destroying private property is a joke? You think taking people’s belongings is a joke? You think barging into a place of business isn’t rude? Do you think interjecting on conversations that you’re not a part of isn’t rude? You think what you said isn’t fucking rude? Why don’t you try thinking before you speak? I know that takes up a lot of oxygen, but I can get you a plant if you’re worried about running out. Now, Get. Out.”

Damian cracked his knuckles and slid off his suit jacket, showing off muscled arms that looked a lot stronger than Adrien. He glared at the trio, watching them carefully as they backed off of Marinette. The subtle threat seemed to work as Alya latched onto Adrien’s other arm, both girls pulling him out of the patisserie. They were complaining loudly about how rude he was and continued to say passive aggressive things about Marinette. She thought the situation was going to explode until her mother walked over to them.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” Shouldn’t you be at school? And why were your classmates here?” she asked, gently holding her daughter’s face in her hands.

“I don’t feel well, Maman,” Marinette replied quietly. “It’s getting bad again.”

She watched her mother’s normally gently and friendly face twist into a well concealed look of rage. Sabine’s silver eyes narrowed, slightly worrying Marinette, as she looked at Damian before demanding to know who he thought he was, thinking that he could speak on her daughter’s behalf.

“I’m her soulmate, ‘mam. I wasn’t trying to speak for her, and I apologize if that’s how it was coming off. You see, my mother didn’t allow singing when I was growing up, and I went to go live with my father when I was ten, so for the first ten years of my life, I didn’t know what a soulmate was,” he answered. “It’s been about six years since I learned what a soulmate was, and I’ve been waiting since then to meet the girl who still sings to a silent soulmate.”

Marinette began to blush, stuttering apologies before Damian responded that she had nothing to apologize for. He then smiled at both her and Sabine before asking if they wanted to attend dinner at Le Grand Paris so Sabine could meet his father.

“I’d really like to get to know you, Marinette, but only if that’s what you want too,” he said with a soft smile. “I want this to be your choice as much as it is mine. I don’t want you to think you have to say yes just because we’re soulmates.”

And as she looked into the face of a man who taught himself how to sing just to be able to connect with her when she needed him the most, Marinette actually believed him.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be like Chat Noir and Ladybug…

A hard nudge from her pocket prompted her into answering, “Yes...I’d really like to get to know you too, Damian.”

As he smiled at her, a genuine smile that reached one’s eyes instead of the fake one he’d been using when talking to Lila, she felt her heart skip a few beats. He readjusted his grip on her hand, sending tingles down her arm and making her entire body feel warm. She gently squeezed his hand, receiving an evenly pressured squeeze in return as he talked to her mother about their patisserie shop.

Vaguely in the back of her mind, Marinette wondered if this is what being with your soulmate was supposed to feel like.

If it was...well, Marinette wasn’t going to be trading the warm homey feeling she got watching her mother talk nice with Damian for anything in the world. He seemed to have a quiet sort of charm about him, and he wasn’t easily intimidated by the looks of it, as he didn’t flinch when her father came out to meet him.

No, instead Damian had shook her father’s hand firmly, introducing himself with proud shoulders and confidence. This seemed to make her father happy as he wasn’t frowning as hard when he asked Damian what he did. Her father also seemed satisfied when Damian responded that his father owned a large business, and he was studying to help his older brother take it over once his father decided to retire.

The way he seemed to seamlessly slide into her family, the domestic feeling of it, made Marinette very happy.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to break the news to her soulmate that she was a superhero…

Oh boy.

*Songs in Order of Appearance:

“La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf

“Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles

“Can You Feel the Love Tonight” as performed by Elton John

“Breathe Me” by Sia

#maribat #Maribat Secret Santa #Maribat Secret Santa 2020 #Marinette xDamian #daminette #i hope you like it!#long post #it ended up being a biggin'

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artxyra · 4 years

Text

Healing Gotham | Part 3

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Bruce knew that wrangling his children an hour before Marin Etta’s arrival was going to be messing. First, they had to save the Gotham Airport from Clayface and that took a long minute. Bruce just hopes that it wouldn’t put a delay in his sister’s plans as he knows how much Marin Etta loves to be on schedule—little did know.

“Boys! Clean up that mess.” He shouts pointing to the couch that is upside down on the floor along with the throw pillows, the coffee table is sitting right side up clearing meant to be out of the way. While next to the grandfather clock, Damian is fighting Dick with a katana in hand. Dick is clearly trying to take the weapon away. Jason, Cass, and Steph watch on the sidelines clearly entertained by the battle before them. Tim was nursing a fresh cup of coffee this late in the day.

Bruce swears that between them all he will be gray before the age of 50 and that is saying a lot. “Alfred will be any minute with Marin and I refuse to show her this mayhem.” No one was listening to the man of the manor, though that title kind of belongs to Alfred.

“He started it.” Dick and Damian shout at the same time before glaring at one another. Bruce expected this with Jason and Damian (or even with Tim) but not Dick and Damian. He wonders what his youngest did to be tackle by Dick.

“Father, I refuse to allow this harlot, you call my aunt, to live with us,” Damian states causing Bruce to face-palm not even acknowledging that Damian had called his sister a harlot, but Jason did which then caused Jason to join the battle.

“That’s it, Demon Spawn, you’re going down,” Jason growls as Damian swings his sword to block Jason’s incoming attack. thus continuing the battle onto the floor.

“Why can’t you three be more like your sisters.” A migraine was growing, and it didn’t help by looking at the clock to see that Alfred would most likely be here any minute. “Cass stop recording your brothers and go help them.”

Cass shrugs and turns to Steph, who was holding in her laughter. “Send that to Barb.” She whispers in between snickers. Cass nods and stops recording the video.

“I am gone for less than an hour and the manor is a mess…not that this isn’t normal.” The voice of the butler freezes everyone. Bruce’s eyes widen in shock and disappointment. Shock because Alfred is back so soon, and disappointment because this was not how he wanted to greet his sister. Behind Alfred is the one person that holds him together looking more and more like their mother every day.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting this. Is that Dickie on the floor?” Marinette asks before walking over to Bruce, “Hello Brucie.” She greets with a smile. Bruce wasn’t sure what to do, so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer.

“I miss you, Sunbeam.” He whispers holding in his emotions. Behind them, the fighting between the three brothers had stop and Dick was bouncing in place. Jason look like he was about to pass out while Damian was glaring at the scene before him.

“Sunshine, you’re back! Now I have a real acrobatic partner to work with.” Dick exclaims rushing forward to embrace Marinette just as Bruce steps away. Alfred leaves the scene to go get some refreshments as dinner was only hours away.

“Hi Dickie, but before we could catch up, I believe there are some people that I should meet?” Marinette despite her small figure tries to look over Dick’s shoulder as she pats his back missing her first nephew as well. Bruce now appearing behind everyone’s back takes Damian’s katana and place it behind the couch. Damian elbows him in the gut, but Bruce makes no noise. He just wasn’t sure how Marinette would react to his youngest holding a sword.

“Yes. Mari, I like you to meet Cass…Steph…Tim…and my youngest Damian.” Bruce points to each and every one of them with breathing room for them to wave, send a smile, and nod (or in Damian’s case, glare) at Marinette. He purposely makes sure not to introduce Jason to Marinette kind of wondering if his plan will work. While doing the introductions, Alfred returns with a tray of refreshments, he too notices the lack of Jason’s introduction.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Marinette’s smile sends a wave of something unknown down their spines. Everyone san from Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Jason felt that way. “Tim, I hear that you’re currently one of the CEO for Wayne Enterprise, I guess we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Cass, you don’t seem like a people person, perhaps a game of chess might help us bond, and Steph, I’m sure you and I will get along great.” Marinette turns to Damian, unsure what to think of her brother’s biological child. He was practically identical to her brother when he was that age (that’s from all the photos she had viewed) and the only difference was his skin was few shades darker. She can also tell by default that he had a troubling childhood, something that was not inflicted by her brother or his siblings (her nieces and nephews). His mother perhaps? Keeping her wanting to squeal down, she sends Damian a curt nod ending their moment to which Damian huffs and looks away from.

When she turns to Jason, all hell freezes over. Squinting her eyes, she instinctively caresses her hand over his cheek. She could feel a large amount of darkness surrounding the male, but the look in his eyes said a different story. Marinette knew those blue eyes from anywhere. They were always much different from Dickie’s in her mind.

“Jay-Jay?” She whispers, her voice cracking never preventing the tears that were slowly forming in her eyes.

“Hi Pixie, it’s me.” Those words solidify everything that Marinette secretly hoped to be true, but now she just wonders for how long? Embrace the taller male, she doesn’t want to let go.

Finally getting past her reintroduction to Jason, someone she thought of like a son she turns her head to look over her shoulder, her eyes narrow at her brother and oldest nephew.

For Bruce and Dick, they could feel that their lives were in danger. Alfred watches off to the side and straightens out his tie. “Run.” Immediately, Dick takes off running first. Marinette had fully turned around with a shining star of evil in her eyes. Bruce couldn’t breathe, it felt like his tie was constricting his neck. It didn’t take long before he too follows the same procedures as his oldest. Marinette was quick to chase after them shouting in a series of French some of which are curses.

Jason was breathing heavily his entire being was being questioned. To his remaining siblings, it was odd to see the person that tried to kill them act as if he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Well, now that… is a family reunion.” Steph laughs before taking off to film the whole ordeal. Damian tsk and walks away mutter how unfit Marinette was to the family. Cass, on the other hand, turns to Jason.

“She’ll be the one to bring the light to Gotham. You wanna spar?” Jason wasn’t sure how to answer Cass’s request. He, himself, couldn’t breathe.

“Master Jason, maybe you should go lay down. I know this is a lot for you to take in.” Alfred suggests as the butler could see that Jason was internally battling himself.

Jason doesn’t answer either of them as he walks out of the room in deep thought.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#maribat #sibling brucinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #fic: Healing Gotham #ml crossover #dc crossover

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deafblindshorty · 3 years

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New Resistance Headcanons

So, I made a few posts of headcanons for Star Wars Resistance characters. However, I made those before the series ended and before TROS came out. Now that the both series are over, and we got to know the characters better, I thought of new ones!

Kazuda Xiono:

CB-23 helped Kaz through the loss of Hosnian Prime and PTSD. He didn’t want to give the FO the satisfaction of being broken emotionally, which is why he’s his normal, cheerful self in seaosn 2 (and TROS, apparently)!

When he was little, he wanted to be like his father, that is, until he attended a sky race. Since then, he has wanted to be a racer.

His squadmates from the premiere (Hugh Sion and Mia Gabon) had been his best friends since childhood.

He had every hologame ever created

He never wanted to go to military school. In fact, he did everything he could to get himself expelled. But, when he found out his father was pulling strings to keep him there, he gave in and started behaving better.

He was in his first year of military school when the napkin bombing (In the Bloodline novel) happened. When he heard about it, he freaked out and was really worried about his parents. When he heard that Leia saved all the senators, that’s when he began to admire her. That admiration didn’t fade when he found out she is the daughter of Darth Vader. Of course, his father didn’t agree with him, in fact, they got into a shouting match, which ended with Senator Xiono smacking Kaz across the face and grounding him for an entire season.

Wedge Antilles was Kaz’s flight instructor. He told Kaz stories of the Rebellion, which got Kaz interested in joining the Resistance.

He has gone on a few dates, but the girls he dated were only with him because he was rich or because they felt sorry for him.

He’s actually pretty smart when it comes to academics. He got the scar on the side of his head from a training accident. He tripped and fell onto a sharp ledge and had to have surgery. The injury affected his mobility, which is why he’s so clumsy.

He is (was?) close to his mother, who loves him and supports him in everything he does.

He had a nanny droid who was like a second mother to him.

His mother would take him to the Hanging Gardens and lunch at the cafe there, and Kaz secretly loved it.

He thought about starting a family when he was good and ready, and vows never to treat his children the same way his father treated him.

He has only been drunk once. He stumbled around town and broke into a store and made out with a mannequin. Since then, he vowed never to drink more than one glass per week.

He hated attending Senate dinners and banquets, but, in order to please his father, he kept still and hid his emotions behind a smile.

His only other language is binary, but he picked up a few languages after being on the Colossus.

He often imagined telling Tam, Neeku, and Torra the truth about why he was on the Colossus. Deep down, he knew that Neeku probably would have told the entire station within the hour, and Tam would have turned him in the first chance she got.

After Torra told him she knew he was in the Navy, he was secretly relieved that at least one person besides Yeager knows some truth about who he is. He would tell Torra stories about the Navy and Hosnian Prime. He promised her he would take her there someday.

He started to develop a crush on Torra, but instantly shook off those feelings when he found out how old (well, young) she is. If he pursued her, then Doza would kill him slowly and painfully.

He had nightmares about the Hosnian Cataclysm. Every time he’d close his eyes, he saw Hosnian Prime being destroyed.

He hid his grief for his home and his family and friends from everyone. In private he would sob his eyes out while clutching his lucky trophy like a lifeline, but otherwise, he’d put on a smile. Yeager and Torra know he’s lying, but decided to let him grieve his own way.

He bears no ill will towards the Resistance for not coming to their aid or failing to save the Hosnian System. Instead, he’s grateful they saved his life by recruiting him.

He feels bad about doubting Captain Doza, and even worse when he found out his wife is in the Resistance.

On their way to their missions, Poe would tell Kaz of his adventures throughout his life. Kaz loved hearing those stories, and was surprised to learn that Poe was from Yavin 4.

Deep down, he cannot understand why Tam is so intolerant towards him, but is okay with Neeku.

Initially did not like Yeager that much, but over time, he became like a father to him.

Kaz found a big brother in Poe, a little brother in Kel, and little sisters in Torra and Eila.

When he meets Rey, he is in awe. He’s never met a Jedi before. They instantly hit it off, bonding over mechanic-ing, piloting, and having an evil family member (If Hamato is with the FO).

He tries not to show it, but he is beyond sick of people doubting him and teasing him about his clumsiness and shrieking every five minutes.

It took every ounce of his willpower not to attack Hux at the Titan.

Jumped at the chance to join Lando’s fleet at Exegol.

“Hit those underbelly cannons. Every one we knock out is a world saved.” Kaz knocked out eight: five for the Hosnian system, one for Tehar, one for Aeos, and one for Castilon.

He was shocked that Poe used to be a spice runner, but accepted it and moved on.

He helped the Resistance rebuild and redeem the New Republic.

Yeager:

Yeager was born on Batuu during the end of the Clone Wars. Marcus was born ten years later.

Yeager joined the Rebellion a few months before the destruction of Alderaan.

His parents were killed by the Empire before the Battle of Endor.

He was in Green Squadron with Shara Bey (Poe’s mom).

He met Leia, Han, Luke, Cassian, Mon, Ackbar, Wedge, Norra, Shara, Kes, and Hera. He actually had a little crush on Leia until he heard she was taken.

He met Doza during the Battle of Jakku.

He and his squadron took down the main star destroyer. That destroyer had all the main computers and weapons for the battle.

He met his late wife after he was injured at the Battle of Jakku. She was a doctor.

He looked after Marcus after their parents died.

He and his wife tried for many years to conceive a child, finally succeeding nine years after the Battle of Jakku.

His ship was named after his late wife, Ayala.

He babysat Poe a few times.

He was there for Poe and Kes after Shara died.

After the death of his family, he punched Marcus, told him he never wanted to see him again, then disappeared.

Like Kaz, Yeager grieved in private. He became emotionally detached. When he hugged Marcus after the Platform Classic, that was the very first time he hugged someone since his family died.

Each night, he’d take his family photo to bed and talk to it about his day.

When Tam applied for a job at his shop, Yeager was instantly reminded of his late daughter (as well as Marcus). He accidentally called Tam by his daughter’s name once. They never spoke of the incident again. Tam was everything Yeager imagined his daughter would be like.

Over the years, he came across attractive women, but he never acted on them because he felt he’d be betraying his family.

The destruction of the Hosnian System reminded Yeager of Alderaan and his own family’s deaths. He hugged Kaz, but it was uncomfortable for both of them.

He was initially glad that Poe didn’t recruit him for the spy mission, but as he grew to care about Kaz, he kind of wished he agreed to do it in the first place.

Tam:

Tam was born on Kuat. Her mother died when she was a baby.

Once she was old enough, her father dragged her along to all of his races.

She heard stories about the Empire and the Rebellion from her father, who watered it down.

Her grandfather was actually forced to work at that Imperial factory. Sort of a reversed Jyn and Galen thing. Jyn thought Galen worked for the Empire because he loved it and hated him for it, but realized he was forced to work for the Empire. Tam actually loved her grandfather for working for the Empire, and thought he worked at that factory because he loved it.

Tam’s father died of bloodburn when she was eighteen.

Tam was angry after losing her ship and that race. Yeager calmed her down and talked to her a few times about it. He became like a father to her.

Hype was her first real friend. When he forgot all about their friendship, Tam took it really hard.

She was hesitant upon making friends with Neeku, but over time they became really good friends.

After Kaz joined Team Fireball, and everything that’s happened afterwards, she felt like her world was collapsing at an alarming rate. Kaz took her friends, her ship, and her father figure. She even envisioned smothering Kaz in his sleep.

She was surprised when Supreme Leader Ren wanted to meet with her. They bonded over joining the FO because they were lied to and deceived.

She gave the Fireball to Kaz, feeling that she doesn’t deserve it after everything that happened.

Neeku:

Neeku grew up on Tatooine (he came from a long line of bantha herders, and his species prefer desert climates).

He is the anti-Anakin: loves sand, was born and raised free, and did not like racing; but loved watching races.

He is either autistic or he has Asperger's.

He spent some time at Mos Eisley, which is where he’s seen bounty hunters.

When he arrived at the Colossus, he wandered around trying to make friends.

He and Rey would instantly bond over growing up on desert planets and being mechanics.

#star wars #star wars resistance #headcanons #star wars headcanons #sw headcanons #kazuda xiono #jarek yeager #tamara ryvora #neeku vozo

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tylerfm · 3 years

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welcome aboard, tyler golightly, student #10. we are excited to set sail with you ! has anyone told you that you look like charlie gillespie? according to our records, you hail from edinburgh, scotland, prefer he/they, are non-binary (demi-boy), and are here to study communications. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your money — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + confident, + ambitious, but also - selfish. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the basketball court. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a soccer ball covered in sharpie drawings. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hello again, little loves! maeby (24, she/her, pst, also play duckie) here with student #10, my second character and cutest lil himbo/thembo, tyler! ♡ tldr; scottish kid with a silver spoon starts anew and tries to make up for their reputation back home but also just wants to party. or: enby footballer actually just wants to play music, keeps it on the dl. i’m so stoked to plot with everyone, like this post and i’ll come to you or hmu if you’re down!

stats

given name: tyler thomas golightly nicknames: ty, tie-dye, golightly (mostly by coaches and jocks) birthday & zodiac: december 12th, 1997 & sagittarius ♐︎ orientation: pansexual, non-binary (demi-boy) hometown: edinburgh, scotland hobbies: the beautiful game, collecting vinyls, playing basketball, restoring their grandfather’s motorcycle, photography, playing piano, songwriting, eating everything, trying to learn french favorites: sunday roast, david bowie, celtic fc, claude debussy, toronto raptors, white nail polish, nachos, nando’s, stella artois, elvis presley

biography

tw: parental death, depression, drug and alcohol abuse

from the moment they were born, tyler and his siblings had their entire lives lined out for them. their father came from a family with very old money that now owned a number of lavish, upscale hotels and expected only the best from their lineage. their mother was a classically trained pianist who had toured the world as a teenage prodigy and had all the best intentions as a mother. still, to tyler, every step of the way felt like ticking off a checklist with ‘pompous ass’ listed as the end goal. top boarding schools were supposed to lead to cambridge or oxford and then prolific careers as surgeons, lawyers, members of parliament, or business moguls. tyler’s siblings all seemed to fit the bill with ease and for a while, so did tyler, until he was old enough to show any kind of personality.

(tw: parental death) growing up, ty was a goofy, naïve kid who spent all day playing music with their mother and singing at the piano with her. sitting on that piano bench was tyler’s only real escape from the elitist world they didn’t really fit into. none of their siblings had taken a real interest in of their mother’s passions, but tyler was at her side every moment they were able. rather than one of the pre-selected career paths his father insisted on, tyler grew up wanting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and be a musician. his father taught him very early on that music was not an option. it was when he shipped off for boarding school that things really escalated. by the time he was sixteen, he had been through five boarding schools. and just when they thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, the unthinkable happened and their mother died suddenly from a brain aneurism.

(tw: depression) the day they lost ty’s mother, his life fell to pieces. he fell into a deep depression and quit everything that reminded him of his mother, especially music. the only thing that fell through the cracks was football (soccer to some), which their father had always loved, so they had always hated. tyler had always been athletic but reluctant when it came to sports, but when their father put them into football this time around, they ran with a newfound rage and abandon. when his father remarried a woman half his age less than a year after becoming a widower, that increased tenfold. he threw everything into playing and training, and stopped trying to process his mother’s passing. they were noticed by a club recruiter only a couple of years later and played on a second tier team with talks of being recruited to the premier league until a few months ago, when they absolutely lost control.

(tw: drug and alcohol abuse) nothing in tyler’s life worked. their relationships with their brothers and father were positively abysmal. he’d always bonded with his only sister for being the odd ducks out, even if she’d always fit in better than him, but even she wasn’t speaking to him if she didn’t have to. they were in the closet about their sexuality and gender identity to everyone but their sister, and it was starting to eat them alive. it had been several years since the death of his mother, but tyler had succeeded in filling every moment of those years with either football or drugs & alcohol to avoid processing it (or anything else). now, the pressure was high and they felt the whole world of football watching them. eventually, they cracked. he quit his football team in a horrible screaming match with the team manager that went viral online and in a single moment, it looked like his career was over before it began.

rather than face the problems that had caused their breakdown, ty holed themself up in their family home for months, only leaving when his father threatened to cut him off if he didn’t go out and do something. in this state, his sister didn’t think they would make it on their own. it was during this time that his sister pushed them into a therapist’s office once a week and personally oversaw their recovery. not long after, his sister showed him an advert for the ss university and went behind their father’s back to pay for it. mere weeks later, tyler golightly had their life packed into suitcases and the ss university was setting sail. he left his sister with the promise that he would watch how he partied and that more than anything, he would use the experience to start over with a clean slate. now all that’s left is to do it.

wanted connects

– rich kids club: tyler was once told by their father that their family had more money than god and they’ve never forgotten that. if your char was also born with a silver spoon, they may know each other already or just bond over their shared experiences! tyler hates their father and that side of their family, so they’re not always the biggest fan of other wealthy people.

– clandestine music friends: tyler’s mother was an esteemed classical pianist and taught ty to play the piano very early on. for a long time, tyler thought they would follow in her footsteps and become a pianist as well. when she passed away, he gave up music ‘for good’. however, ever since they’ve been on the ship, they’ve been secretly picking up playing the piano again! someone is bound to have walked in on them and is now keeping their secret.

– missed connection: ty thinks he falls in love every other minute, but if he doesn’t go for it, he usually just forgets them and moves on to the next gorgeous smile or melodic laughter. this person has been on their mind since the day they laid eyes on each other but didn’t actually get to meet. whether it was in the hall, while they were drunk at the sand bar, or even out in one of their excursions, something about them has ty going crazy.

– exes: ty may think they fall in love more often than a character in a rom-com, but the truth of the matter is that they never really commit to a relationship long enough to get past infatuation. there may be one person they’ve been seriously in love with, but the rest were flings for a season, friends with benefits, or one night stands; short-term. not much has changed now that they’re on the ship, but with the entire cruise/schoolyear ahead of them, who’s to say it won’t?

– party friends! one night stands! people they met while travelling for football matches! folks from boarding school! family friends! any other connections you’re feeling!

#* // about.

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casualneonglitterpainterposts · 3 years

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Profile/ Back story- “Jules” Osteen

So this is my girl Julie “Jules” ,I made her up as this girlfriend/ (s/o) for Mikey too (basically my excuse to come up with a 1978 OC and because he needs someone to love him ). But yeah I finally got round to doing her profile and back story...

Name: Julie (Jules) Augustine Osteen

Age: 20 years

DOB: 4th June

Height: “5’2” (157.6 cm)

Eyes: Golden brown

Hair: Dark chestnut brown

Family/ friends: Kristi Osteen (Mother-deceased after Julie was born), Dave Lovell (Father-deceased during Kristi’s pregnancy due to a severe head injury from his sporting career), Audry Osteen (Grandmother), Paul Osteen (Grandfather), Lawrence Osteen (Uncle), Ailson Russell (best friend) and Toni Wheeler (other best friend).

Occupation: Professional (local) baseball player/ coach

Personality/Traits: Grandiose, generous, open (occasionally), supportive, clever rebellious (only when she wants to be though), helpful, warm, loving, sweet, gentle

Likes: Yoga, baseball, coaching, drawing- portraits and landscapes especially, helping out others, horror/gore movies/stuff, self defense, taekwondo, taking care of her elderly grandparent, teaching the neighbourhood kids how to play baseball, lying in the middle of the grass in the warm sun, raspberry ripple ice cream, the colours Orange, khaki brown and golden yellow, and a certain tall/ yet quiet man known as “The Shape” .

Dislikes: wearing her glasses (she is short sighted in her left eye- though she has contacts she will occasionally have to wear her glasses for reading), rude filthy guys (she’s been whistled at before and sometimes they make comment saying how sexy her curves are (of course though Jules doesn’t like this and she can sometimes feel ashamed about the way she looks), people making fun of her height (again she will feel a little self conscious when they do so), thick headed morons, people disturbing her when she’s busy, embarrassing herself, snobs and being rushed (if you rush her she end up being all clumsy- though her clumsiness is quite adorable).

Back story: Julie is a bright, warm and loving young woman. Jules was born an orphan, her father was a big time baseball star who passed away during Kristi’s pregnancy due to a fatal/severe head injury and her mother Kristi passed away during her birth. Julie was adopted out two days after to her grandparents (Kristi’s mother and father), they loved Julie dearly and made sure to raise her well. Their son Lawrence (Kristi’s older brother) loved Julie dearly too and helped raise her also. Her uncle was a well known local sportsman in Haddonfield, her grandmother Audrey is a painter (artist) and her grandfather Paul was a carpenter, though they had busy lives- They made sure that Jules was given plenty of love, care and attention. By the time she was two Jules was found to be short sighted, so not long after she began to wear glasses (though by the time she was fifteen she’d begun to switch to wearing contact lenses- she felt a little embarrassed about needing to wear glasses and also she didn’t want to be judged by others either) . She was a very active and bubbly young little girl, she especially loved moving about. By the age of eight Jules was very warm, loving and sweet, but very Tomboy- back when she was five her uncle took her out one afternoon down to the park and taught her a bit of baseball, after teaching her- Lawrence saw what a natural she was (just like her father-since he was a professional) and two days after seeing how much she enjoyed it- Jules joined the local junior Haddonfield team and began her early career into baseball.

She would go down to the batting cages with her uncle or whenever she got the chance to to hone her skills to become great or greater than her father was (her grandparents told her stories of her parents). Beside her love and passion for baseball, Julie also got into creative arts- Jules learnt to paint and draw from her grandmother, she’d really good at it and enjoys teaching others just like her grandmother did with her. Throughout school both elementary and highschool- Jules got good grades and was seen as a model student by her teachers, she’s a bright and respected young woman.she made two wonderful life long friends Alison- a tall, slender, olive-skinned and blacker haired girly girl and Toni- slightly taller than her by four inches girl, with her hair in a short do and a strong lover of science.

As she grew into a fine young woman, Jules began to turn the heads of young males. Though Jules is comfortable about her body-she becomes very shy and embarrassed when idiot men whistle and make comments about her curves- she does like it and it makes her feel awful for wearing what she was that day- hence she tries not to show her body off or them to do so. Jules can also be a little self conscious about her height

After graduating high school, Jules went into coaching the local baseball team (the children’s one) every weekend and she was also a professional player for the female’s team too. When Jules isn’t doing her other stuff, she still goes down to her favourite place- the batting cages, she’s there mostly all the time both for fun, practice or when she’s upset and needs to let out that frustration. The girl has a killer swing and certainly knows how to smash some baseballs. She also has a killer throwing arm too. Though she’s a warm, gentle and sweet young woman Julie also has a badass side- she is a master in self defense, taekwondo and pretty damn good at survival techniques too. Jules also secretly loves horror/gore movies and stuff- when she gets all excited about that kinda stuff and people give her strange looks, Jules just rolls her eyes, shrugs her shoulders and just does her ^^

Speaking of horror, One night though as she was coming home from a busy evening down at the batting cages she was grabbed by a small gang of creeps- of course she put up a good fight to defend herself, but alas she was attacked from behind and restrained. Without her know abouts “The Shape” (aka: Michael Myers- who’d been watching and observing her for weeks- starting to have feelings for her) came out of the shadows, slaughtering these men to save her. Jules was surprised of course- a little freaked out when he first came up to her (she’s so small and Mikey is a beast- he’s a tall boi) but also shocked that he didn’t kill her. As she looked deep into his eyes, as he stared down- Julie could see right through him and she knew straight away that he wouldn’t harm her. From that night on she’d hope that they’d encounter one another's presence once again- Jules couldn't help that she’d fallen for him, but in her heart she knew he was right for her. It was only a matter of time...

Overall, Julie “Jules” Osteen is a wonderful, warm, sweet loving and giving woman. She may be small and seem fragile, but don’t be fooled by here mere appearance- That girl knows how to kick ass and protect herself and of course, she’d give her own life to protect the people she loves and cares about.

Anyways, I hope you like her and I’ll post a bunch of doodles and drawings of her soon too 😉😊👍💜💕

#halloween 1978 #julie osteen #jules #my original character #profile page #back story #michael myers #my oc

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reallifesultanas · 3 years

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Portrait of Murad III / III. Murád portréja

Origin and upbringing

Murad was born in 1546, as the son of later Selim II and his favorite concubine, Nurbanu. He was the youngest child of the couple, Murad already had three sisters at birth, Şah, Gevherhan and Esmehan. He spent his childhood in his father's current princely province in relative peace. He had a close relationship with both his parents and as their only son, he was the apple of their eyes. This was especially true of his mother, Nurbanu, who kept her son under close watch.

Like Murad’s father and grandfather, he also loved arts, he loved to read, which most probably was also characteristic when he was a child. Because of this, he was probably a retreating prince who drew attention to himself with his mind rather than his warrior nature. His circumcision ceremony was held in 1557, and the following year Suleiman decided to appoint his barely 12-year-old grandson to his first princely position in Akşehir. According to tradition, Nurbanu accompanied him to the province and tried to help him with the reign. In general, the princes were given their first own province a little later, so certainly the new situation caused quite a lot of difficulty for the young Murad. However, his teacher and mother supported him in everything, so he deftly stood his ground.

The first ordeal

Murad's rather peaceful childhood was soon a distant memory, as his uncle, Prince Bayezid, recruited an army in 1559, and marched to Konya with his sole purpose, to kill Prince Selim and Murad. Murad, as the governor of Akşehir, had at his disposal the army of the province, with which, following his father's order, he immediately set out for Konya to support his father. At just 13, Murad took part in the first battle of his life, but certainly not from the battlefield he followed the events. After two days of strained fighting, Selim and Murad’s troops finally came out victorious, thanks to support sent by the sultan. However, Prince Bayezid fled, so Selim, Murad, and Sokollu Mehmed Pasha persecuted the rebellious prince for months.

However, Prince Bayezid successfully crossed the Persian border, which filled everyone in the empire with terror. Murad and his father could not leave the Persian border for months. Eventually, then, Suleiman and the Persian Shah began to do negotiations, so that Murad could return home to his mother in Akşehir. Then in 1562 Bayezid and his sons were handed over by the Persian Shah to the men of Selim and they were executed. From here, there were no obstacles to Selim and Murad, their succession to the throne was assured.

The crown-prince

As Selim's only son, it was actually clear that Murad would be the future sultan, so his prestige was greatly elevated. Maybe it was thanks to this, that he got a gift that changed his whole life. Probably shortly after the execution of Bayezid, or around that period, 1562, Murad received a concubine as a gift from his cousin, Hümaşah Sultan. The concubine was very pretty and intelligent and immediately became Murad’s favorite, probably his first ever consort. Shortly after their acquaintance, their first child was born, a girl who was named Hümaşah after Murad’s cousin. She was followed in May 1566 by Prince Mehmed. This year Sultan Suleiman died and Murad's father, Selim, became the new sultan.

During Selim's reign, Murad lived in Manisa, managing his province. The main change from Suleiman's reign was that his mother left Murad alone to be with Selim in Istanbul. In Murad's life, Safiye, his favorite concubine, became the number one support and companion from then on. From their relationship soon another son, Mahmud, was born in 1569 and was followed by two daughters, Ayşe and Fatma. Murad was basically loyal to Safiye and lived in a monogamous relationship with her, but at least one case occurred when he produced a child for another woman. For in 1567 he had a son, Selim born to an anonymous concubine. The concubine was a girl raised by a very influential harem servant, Raziye Hatun, but although she was the mother of a prince, she had no privileges, nor could she approach Safiye’s position. By the way, Raziye Hatun was very close to Murad himself, maybe that's why the prince accepted her gift despite his love and monogamy toward Safiye.

In his princely province, Murad formed his own circles, had his own supporters, advisers, and had nothing to do but wait for Selim's death. Selim, meanwhile, produced several children under the pressure of the leading statesmen. Murad met his younger brothers very rarely, if at all, so no deep connection developed between them. Yet it is important to mention that the birth of these children seriously influenced Murad. Well, not because they would have had any chance of stole the throne from Murad, but because Selim and Nurbanu deliberately did not produce more children after Murad's birth for years so that Murad would not have a competitor and would not have to shed his own blood when he ascended the throne. However, for the first time in his life, Murad had to think about the law of fratricide, which must have affected the sensitive-minded prince well.

The young sultan

Selim II died in early December 1574, and Nurbanu ordered his son to come Istanbul in a secret message. Murad secretly waited for one of the pasha's ships to arrive so he can go to Istanbul as soon as possible, but the prince could not find the pasha's ship, so he arrived in Istanbul on the night of December 21, with a different ship. Murad thus arrived in the capital in five days. Although he owed the ship a quick arrival, the prince struggled with very serious seasickness along the way, which made his situation bitter for some time even after his arrival. His most important task would have been to execute his brothers immediately. However, Murad was unable to issue the order. For eight hours he refused to sit on the throne — which would have made him a sultan — or announce his arrival, instead he was consulting with the statesmen on how he could evade the murder of his brothers. I would like to emphasize once again that these are brothers with whom Murad did not have any close bonds. Eventually, however, Murad’s mother, Nurbanu, and the statesmen convinced the sultan that there was nothing he could do against the law of fratricide. Finally, Murad sobbed and issued the order so his baby brothers were strangled, three hours before sunrise.

The deaths of the child princes were of particular significance, as this was the first time that the fratricide took place in Istanbul. For the first time, all leading statesmen, harem servants, soldiers, and commoners experienced up close what fratricide meant. This was the first time, they could see the tiny coffins behind the sultan's coffin. Fratricide used to be an elusive concept, which was known as a needed bad, but the opinion began to change. In any case, Murad did not become unpopular because of the event, everyone was anxiously awaiting what the reign of the young sultan would bring. Although he was not the most militant man and his appearance was slightly short and ill, he was still a promising candidate. He had been involved in a battle, had good control of his province, had several children, was intelligent, educated, and his mother was a respected and beloved person, he enjoyed the support of statesmen and soldiers, and was only twenty-eight years old, roughly as much as his great-worthy predecessor, Suleiman when he ascended the throne.

The first years of Murad's reign were very busy, with ambassadors coming to congratulate him on his accession to the throne. In 1576, for example, the Persian Shah's ambassador himself. This event was of great significance and completely make the life of Istanbul vivid. There was a peace treaty with the Persians, but a kind of passive aggression characterized the relationship. It is for this reason that Murad made great efforts to "scare" the Persian ambassador with his power. When the ambassador arrived, Murad went to meet him with an envoy of 10 to 12,000 people. Murad sent a message to the ambassador that "the parade you see here is only those hens that are in the coop, the others are just grazing on the fields." Such parades always filled the people with excitement, especially as they were accompanied by frequent money and food distribution.

The passive-aggressive action against the Persians was also fueled by the fact that the peace agreement between the two of them was about to expire and Murad had plans with them. In 1578, Murad unveiled his war aspirations to the divan, which led him to openly confront the Grand Vizier, Sokollu Mehmed Pasha. Sokollu warned the inexperienced sultan from a long and bloody war against the Persians. In fact, Sokollu had a great deal of experience in the campaigns against the Persians, as he took part in many, but the sultan wanted glory and did not listen to the Grand Vizier. Sokollu's influence was so vast and intertwined that it almost threatened the Sultan's person as an absolute monarch. Perhaps this may have had something to do with Sokollu's assassination next year. The war finally began in 1584 and lasted until 1590. It was so exhausting, expensive, that both sides begged for peace, but Murad didn't want to hear about it. He wanted to prove with all his might that he was able to gain glory, just like his grandfather Suleiman. Murad was close to Suleiman and certainly considered him his role model. Eventually, the young sultan happened to go under the patronage of fortune when a new Shah ascended the Persian throne in 1588. The new Shah had to face with so many uprisings that he would have given almost any price for peace with the Ottomans. Murad eventually sent a very unfavorable, almost mocking offer to the Persians, which was accepted by the new shah, so that Murad actually won the war in 1590 and managed to regain the glory of the Ottoman state. However, it faded the glory in the eyes of the people and soldiers that the young sultan himself had not taken part in the war.

In addition to parades and war, Murad also subverted Istanbul by completely renovating the Topkapi Palace harem and relocating almost the entire Old Palace harem to Topkapi. Thus, only the women who were of the late sultans, or were widowed sultanas, remained in the Old Palace. This, of course, was not a process over a few years, but accompanied almost the entire reign of Murad.

Declining popularity

Murad never became really unpopular, but the initial enthusiasm he received slowly left him. However, his mother tried her best to maintain her son's popularity, with more or less success. Murad’s commitment to his mother is well known. Murad made all his political decisions in consultation with her. The fact that there was peace with Venice throughout his reign was certainly also due to Nurbanu's influence. For the sultana, by his origin, pursued a pro-Venetian policy, corresponding personally with the Venetian Doge. In addition, Nurbanu tried to appear at certain events instead of her son, thus maintaining the love of the people. Such was the Friday prayer, for example. According to tradition, every Friday the sultan prayed in a city mosque, thus appearing before his people. Sultan Suleiman followed the tradition almost every Friday, Selim kept it less and less, but he still did it quite regularly. However, at one point, Murad failed to fulfill this obligation for two years. Because of this, his mother appeared regularly on Friday prayers instead. The method proved surprisingly successful.

Murad lived his daily life quite simply and routinely, which is why it is strange that he missed the Friday prayers that would fit perfectly into his routine. Thanks to his doctor, Domenico Hierosolimitano, we know exactly how the sultan lived his life. According to this "in the morning he rises at dawn to say his prayer for half an hour, then for another half-hour he writes. Then he is given something pleasant as a collation, and afterwards sets himself to read for another hour. Then he begins to give audience to the members of the Divan on the four days of the week that this occurs, as had been said above. Then he goes for a walk through the garden, taking pleasure in the delight of fountains and animals for another hour, taking with him the dwarves, buffoons and others to entertain him. Then he goes back once again to studying until he considers the time for lunch has arrived. He stays at table only half an hour, and rises (to go) once again into the garden for as long as he pleases. Then he goes to say his midday prayer. Then he stops to pass the time and amuse himself with the women, and he will stay one or two hours with them, when it is time to say the evening prayer. Then he returns to his apartments or, if it pleases him more, he stays in the garden reading or passing the time until evening with the dwarfs and buffoons, and then he returns to say his prayers, that is at nightfall. Then he dines and takes more time over dinner than over lunch, making conversation until two hours after dark, until it is time for prayer [...] He never fails to observe this schedule every day."

The retreating nature of the sultan, his absence from the people, gradually diminished his popularity. The culmination of this came around 1580, when the sultan's masculinity came to the center of ridicule. There is a rumor that Murad was impotent. Everyone in the city talked about this so much that even historians, writers, and ambassadors regularly mentioned it, and even many mocking poems took wing. Eventually, the sultan’s favorite, Safiye, was accused of making the sultan impotent and was exiled with her daughters after one of her letters were read by Nurbanu. Murad’s impotence soon really ceased and he received plenty of concubines, producing innumerable children. As it shows, Murad regained his manhood, and thus his popularity somewhat restored, although he soon suffered a huge tragedy.

The lone sultan

Murad's mother Nurbanu retired to her own palace in early 1583 after her health had deteriorated thoroughly. By the end of the year, the situation was so tragic that Murad was constantly wearing black. But that was not enough trouble, his relationship with his eldest son gone bad. For Mehmed openly stood by his mother, Safiye, demanding that his father immediately bring his mother back from exile and marry him to repair the damage to her honor. Murad, of course, ugly rejected his son. Their relationship deteriorated to such a level that in December, when Mehmed left Istanbul to travel to his own province, Murad refused to go out to say goodbye to his son. Mehmed waited for days for his father to finally show himself. It seemed that Mehmed had to leave the capital without the blessing of his father and mother.

The status of Nurbanu became critical at the same time as Mehmed's departure, and Murad hurried to his mother. On her deathbed, Nurbanu spoke of nothing but begging her son to repair his relationship with Prince Mehmed. Nurbanu eventually died with her son next to her. Murad was left alone for with the death of his mother, he lost his greatest supporter, his counselor and he was left alone without a mother, a lover and even lost his son thanks to their fight. Unfortunately, we don’t know much about how was his relationship with his other children. Prince Mahmud died around 1580/1, so we don't know much about him and even less about Selim. Murad was perhaps in a closer relationship with his daughters, given that they shared their hobby. Murad was a famous bibliophile and was very interested in astrology, the former of which he certainly shared with his daughters Ayşe and Fatma. Maybe the girls didn't stand so openly to their father for Safiye, maybe he forgave them more easily, but his relationship with them didn't seem to have deteriorated.

Murad may have been a very emotional man who philosophized a lot. Perhaps this is why the introduction of many changes in burials can be linked to him. Basically, the sultans were the only "inhabitants" of their türbe, but Murad decided it wasn't good that way. Knowing how close his own parents were to each other, he buried Nurbanu right next to his father, and even placed his younger brothers rest in Selim's tomb. Interestingly, Mihrimah Sultan, who also died during Murad's reign, was buried next to her father Suleiman, maybe because their close relationship was well known. There are no other possible reasons since Mihrimah could be buried in one of her own complexes, in her husband's complex, or even his brothers complex (Şehzade Mosque complex). So Murad clearly wanted to bury her next to Suleiman.

In the case of such an emotional, retreating man, it is perhaps not surprising that he did not bear loneliness well, and soon after the death of his mother recalled Safiye to his side and, taking the advice of his son, married her in 1585 or 1586. Although they no longer had sexual intercourse as Murad surrounded himself with young concubines, Safiye became his counselor and understanding companion. Murad respected and held Safiye's mind in high esteem, but still far from accepting her advice as blindly as he did with his mother's earlier advice. Safiye's presence may also have been an important factor in the relationship between Murad and Prince Mehmed. The two never became close again, but their relationship wasn't life-threatening anymore, since Safiye regularly advised her son to act as an obedient boy.

Besides Safiye, none of Murad's other concubines were able to intervene in political affairs, however, two other concubines are known to have been able to do charity, suggesting that they may have been Murad’s favorites. It is possible that several of her concubines have been involved in charity, but there is evidence of only these two women. Şems-i Ruhsar Hatun, the mother of Rukiye Sultan, established a foundation in Medina; and Şah-i Huban Hatun also had foundations in her life. In addition, Prince Selim's mother may have had some power, as there is second-hand evidence to that. However, Safiye was the only woman in Murad’s life who could influence him and whom he considered an equal party.

His last years and death

In his last years, he was almost completely locked in the palace, did not attend council meetings, and mostly did not leave the palace at all. This must have been facilitated by the fact that two rebellions took place against him, in 1589 the Janissaries and in 1592 the Sipahis began to revolt. In addition, his health has deteriorated a great deal in his last years. In 1592, the returning Venetian ambassador, who last saw the sultan in 1588, reported that Murad was very obese, resulting in a particularly deformed appearance due to his short stature and that his face was constantly red, he suffered from epilepsy, permanent ear problems, and other health problems. He mentioned that Murad usually slept whole day. The cause of Murad's death is unknown, probably happened due to natural causes. He died in 1595 and was buried in Hagia Sophia.

Used sources: L. Peirce - The imperial harem; M. P. Pedani - Safiye's household and Venetian diplomacy; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; Necdet Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; F. Suraiya, K. Fleet - The Cambridge History of Turkey 1453-1603; Kayaalp-Aktan - The Atik Valide Mosque Complex: A testament of Nurbanu’s prestige, power and piety

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Származása és neveltetése

Murad, 1546-ban született későbbi II. Szelim és kedvenc ágyasa, Nurbanu gyermekeként. Ő volt a pár legkisebb gyermeke, Muradnak születésekor már három nővére volt, Şah, Gevherhan és Esmehan. Gyermekkorát édeapja éppen aktuális hercegi tartományában töltötte. Közeli viszonyban volt mind a két szülőjével és mint egyetlen fiuk ő volt a szemefényük. Különösen igaz volt ez édesanyjára, Nurbanura, aki igyekezett mindenre odafigyelni fiával kapcsolatban.

Murad apjához és nagyapjához hasonlóan igen szerette a művészeteket, imádott olvasni, ami már gyermekkorában is megmutatkozott. Emiatt valószínűleg inkább volt visszahúzódó herceg aki az eszével vonta magára a figyelmet, nem pedig harcos természetével. Körülmetélési szertartását 1557-ben tartották, majd a következő évben Szulejmán úgy döntött, hogy az alig 12 éves unokáját kinevezi első hercegi posztjára, Akşehirbe. Nurbanu a hagyományoknak megfelelően fiával tartott a tartományba és igyekezett segíteni az uralkodásban. Általában a hercegek valamivel idősebben kapták meg első saját tartományukat, így minden bizonnyal az új helyzet elég sok nehézséget okozott Murad számára. Azonban tanítója és édesanyja mindenben támogatta, így ügyesen helyt állt.

Az első megpróbáltatás

Murad meglehetősen felhőtlen gyermekkora hamarosan távoli emlék maradt csupán, ugyanis nagybátyja Bayezid herceg 1559-ben lázadást szítva hadsereget toborzott, egyetlen célja pedig Szelim herceg és Murad megölése volt. Muradnak, mint Akşehir helytartója rendelekzésére állt a tartomány serege, mellyel apja parancsát követve azonnal Konyába indult, hogy támogassa apját. Alig 13 évesen Murad részt vett élete első csatájában, minden bizonnyal azonban nem a harctérről követve az eseményeket. Két napos megfeszített küzdelem után végül Szelim és Murad csapatai kerültek ki győztesen, köszönhetően a szultán által küldött támogatásnak. Bayezid herceg azonban elmenekült, így Szelim, Murad és Szokollu Mehmed Pasa hónapokig üldözték a lázadó herceget.

Bayezid herceg azonban sikerrel kelt át a perzsa határon, ami mindenkit rettegéssel töltött el a birodalomban. Murad és apja hónapokig nem hagyhatták el a perzsa határt. Végül aztán Szulejmán és a perzsa şah egyezkedni kezdtek, így Murad hazatérhetett édesanyjához Akşehirbe. 1562-ben aztán Bayezidet és fiait a perzsa şah átadta Szelim embereinek és kivégezték őket. Innentől nem állt Szelim és Murad előtt semmilyen akadály, trónöröklésük biztosított volt.

A trónörökös

Mint Szelim egyetlen fia, tulajdonképpen egyértelmű volt, hogy Murad lesz a leendő szultán, így presztizse igen megemelkedett. Talán ennek köszönhette az ajándékot is, mely egész életét emgváltoztatta. Valószínűleg Bayezid kivégzése után nemsokkal - de legalábbis nagjyából 1562-ben - Murad egy ágyast kapott ajándékba unokatestvérétől, Hümaşah szultánától. Az ágyas igen csinos és intelligens volt és azonnal Murad kedvencévé vált. Nemsokkal megismerkedésük után megszületett első gyermekük, egy kislány, akit Murad unoaktestvére és Safiye kinevelője után Hümaşahnak neveztek el. Őt 1566 májusában követte Mehmed herceg. Ebben az évben halt meg Szulejmán szultán és vált Murad apja, Szelim az új szultánná.

Szelim uralkodása alatt Murad Manisában élt, ezt a tartományt igazgatta. A fő változás Szulejmán uralkodásához képest az volt, hogy édesanyja magára hagyta Muradot, hogy Szelim mellett lehessen Isztambulban. Murad életében így Safiye, kedvenc ágyasa lett az első számú támasz és társ. Kapcsolatukból hamarosan újabb fiú, Mahmud született 1569-ben őt pedig két lány, Ayşe és Fatma követte. Murad alapvetően hűséges volt Safiyéhez és monogám kapcsolatban élt vele, ám legalább egy eset előfordult, mikor más ágyast teherbe ejtett. 1567-ben ugyanis egy névtelen ágyas fiúnak adott életet, akit Szelimnek neveztek el. Az ágyas egy igen befolyásos hárem szolga, Raziye Hatun által kinevelt lány volt és bár egy herceg anyja volt, semmilyen privilégiuma nem volt, meg sem közelíthette Safiye pozícióját. Raziye Hatun egyébként maga is igen közel állt Muradhoz, talán épp ezért fogadta el ajándékát a herceg.

Hercegi tartományában Murad kialakította saját köreit, meg voltak saját támogatói, tanácsadói és nem volt semmi más dolguk, mint várni Szelim halálát. Szelim időközben több gyermeket is nemzett, a vezető államférfiak nyomására. Öccseivel igen ritkán találkozott, ha találkozott egyáltalán, így mély kapcsolat nem alakult ki közöttük. Mégis fontos megemlíteni, hogy a gyermekek születése Muradot komolyan befolyásolta. Na nem azért, mert bármi esélyük lett volna a trónra Muraddal szemben, hanem mert Szelim és Nurbanu szándékosan nem nemzett több fiút évekig, hogy Muradnak ne legyen vetélytársa és ne kelljen saját vérét ontania trónralépésekor. Azonban öccsei születésével életlben először Muradnak gondolkodnia kellett a testvérgyilkosság törvényén, ami az érzékeny lelkű herceget bizonyára nem érintette jól.

Az ifjú szultán

II. Szelim 1574 decemberének elején elhunyt, Nurbanu pedig titkos üzenetben rendelte fiát Isztambulba. Muradra titokban várt azt egyik pasa hajójával, hogy hajón mielőbb Isztambulba érjenek, a herceg azonban nem találta meg a pasát, így egy másik hajóra felkéretszkedve jutott Isztambulba december 21-én éjszaka. Murad így öt nap alatt megérkezett a fővárosba. Bár a hajónak köszönhette a gyors érkezést, a herceg nagyon súlyos tengeribetegséggel küzdött végig az úton, mely megérkezése után is jóideig megkeserítette helyzetét. Az lett volna a legfontosabb feladata, hogy testvéreit azonnnal kivégeztesse. Murad azonban képtelen volt kiadni a parancsot. Nyolc órán át nem volt hajlandó ráülni a trónra - amitől szultánná vált volna - és kinyilatkoztatni megérkezését, helyette az államférfiakkal tanácskozott arról, hogyan tudná kikerülni öccsei meggyilkolását. Még egyszer szeretném hangsúlyozni, olyan testvérekről van szó, akikhez semmilyen szoros kapcsolat nem kötötte Muradot. Végül azonban Murad anyja, Nurbanu és az államférfiak meggyőzték a szultánt, hogy nem tehet semmit, a testvérgyilkosság törvény, neki is így kell tennie. Végül Murad zokogva adta ki a parancsot és gyermek öccseit megfojtatta a napfelkelte előtt három órával.

A gyermek hercegek halála különös jelentőséggel bírt, ugyanis ez volt az első eset, hogy a testvérgyilkosság Isztambulban történt meg. Első alkalommal tapasztalta meg testközelből az összes vezető államférfi, háremszolga, katona és közember, hogy mit is jelent a testvérgyilkosság. Először látták a szultán koporsója mögött haladó apró koporsókat. A testvérgyilkosság korábban egy megfoghatatlan fogalom volt, tudott de szükséges rossz, azonban a vélemény kezdett megváltozni. Mindenesetre Murad nem lett népszerűtlen az esemény miatt, mindneki izgatottan várta, hogy mit hoz az ifjú szultán uralkodása. Bár tudott volt, hogy nem a legharcosabb természetű férfi és külseje is enyhén beteges volt, mégis ígéretes jelölt volt. Részt vett már csatában, jól irányította tartományát, több gyermeke is volt, intelligens, művelt volt, édesanyja is tisztelt és kedvelt személy volt, élvezte az államférfiak és katonák támogatását, és csak huszonnyolc éves volt, nagyjából annyi, mint nagyérdemű elődje, Szulejmán, mikor trónralépett.

Murad uralkodásának első évei igen mozgalmasan teltek, követek érkeztek gratulálni trónralépéséhez, 1576-ban például maga a perzsa şah követe. Ez az esemény kiemelt jelentőséggel bírt és telejen felforgatta Isztambul életét. A perzsákkal béke egyezmény élt, azonban egyfajta passzív agresszió jellemezte a viszonyt. Épp emiatt Murad nagy erőfeszítéseket tett, hogy "megijessze" hatalmával a perzsa követet. Ennek érdekében 10 - 12 000 fős kísérettel érkezett majd megüzente a követnek, hogy "a felvonulás amit itt látsz csak azok a tyúkok, akik az ólban vannak, a többi éppen a földeken legel". Az ilyen felvonulások mindig izgalommal töltötték el a népet, főleg, hogy gyakori pénz és ételosztás kísérte őket.

A perzsák elleni passzív agresszív fellépést az is táplálta, hogy a kettejük közt életben lévő békeegyezmény hamarosan lejárt, Muradnak pedig tervei voltak velük. 1578-ban Murad a divan elé tárta háborús törekvéseit, amely miatt nyíltan szembe került a nagyvezírrel, Szokollu Mehmed Pasával. Szokollu óva intette a szerinte tapasztalatlan szultánt egy hosszú és véres perzsák elleni háborútól. Tény, hogy Szokollu nagy tapasztalattal rendelkezett a perzsák elleni hadjáratokról, hiszen rengetegben részt vett, a szultán viszont dicsőséget akart, és nem hallgatott a nagyvezírre. Szokollu befolyása olyan hatalmas volt és mindent átszövő, hogy szinte veszélyeztette a szultánt abszolút uralmát. Talán ennek is köze lehetett 1579-es meggyilkolásához. A háború végül 1584-ben elindult és egészen 1590-ig tartott. Olyannyira kimerítő, költséges volt, hogy mind a két fél békéért könyörgött, Murad azonban hallani sem akart erről. Minden erejével bizonyítani akarta, hogy képes dicsőséget szerezni, ugyanúgy mint nagyapja Szulejmán. Murad közel állt Szulejmánhoz és minden bizonnyal őt tekintette példaképének. Végül a szerencse pártfogásába vette a fiatal szultánt, mikor 1588-ban új şah lépett a perzsa trónra és annyi felkeléssel kellett szembenéznie, hogy szinte bármi árat megadott volna a békéért. Murad végül a perzsák számára igen kedvezőtlen, szinte gúnnyal felérő ajánlatot küldött, amit az új şah elfogadott, így Murad tulajdonképpen 1590-ben megnyerte a háborút és sikerült újra dicsőséget szereznie az Oszmán államnak. Azonban árnyalta a dicsőséget a nép és katonák szemében, hogy az ifjú szultán maga nem vett részt a háborúban.

A felvonulások és háború mellett Murad szintén felbolygatta Isztambult azzal, hogy a Topkapi Palota háremét teljes körűen felújította és szinte a teljes Régi Palotabeli háremet átköltöztette. Így a Régi Palotában csak azok a nők maradtak, akik a néhai szultánok asszonyai voltak, vagy megözvegyült szultánák. Innen ered a Régi Palota gúnyneve, a Könnyek Palotája. EZ természetesen nem egy néhány év alatt lezajló folyamat volt, hanem szinte Murad teljes uralkodását végig kísérte.

Népszerűségének csökkenése

Murad sosem vált igazán népszerűtlenné, de a kezdeti lelkesedés mely fogadta, lassan alább hagyott. Népszerűségét minden erővel igyekezett azonban fenntartani édesanyja, több kevesebb sikerrel. Murad édesanyja iránti elkötelezettsége jól ismert. Murad minden politikai döntését édesanyjával konzultálva hozta meg. Az, hogy uralkodása alatt végig béke volt Velencével, minden bizonnyal szintén Nurbanu befolyásának volt köszönhető. A szultána ugyanis származása révén, Velence-párti politikát folytatott, személyesen levelezett a velencei dózsével. Emellett Nurbanu igyekezett fia helyett megjelenni bizonyos eseményeken, ezzel fenntartva a nép szeretét. Ilyen volt például a pénteki ima, a hagyomány szerint minden pénteken a szultán valamely városi mecsetben imádkozott, ezzel megjelenve a népe előtt. Szulejmán szultán szinte valóban minden pénteken követte a hagyományt, Szelim egyre kevésbé tartotta, de néhány hetente/havonta azért megjelent, megmutatva magát. Murad azonban egy ponton két évig nem tett eleget ezen kötelezettségének. Anyja emiatt helyette jelent meg rendszeresen pénteki imákon. A módszer meglepően sikeresnek bizonyult.

Murad mindennapjait meglehetősen egyszerűen és rutinszerűen élte, emiatt is furcsa, hogy a rutinba tökéletesen beilleszthető pénteki imákat kihagyta. Orvosának, Domenico Hierosolimitanonak köszönhetően pontosan tudjuk, hogy milyen rutin szerint élte életét a szultán. Eszerint minden reggel a nappal együtt kelve, elmondta első imáját, ami nagyjából fél óráig tartott, ezek után újabb fél órán át írt. Hogy egy kis szórakozást is adjon magának, ezután minden reggel nagyjából egy órát olvasott, majd elkezdte audienciáját a divan tagokkal a hét négy napján. Hogy kiszellőztesse fejét az audienciák után egy órán át sétálgatott a kertben, társalgott a törpéivel és szemügyre vette a kertben jelenlévő állatokat. Az ebédig hátralévő időt pedig munkával töltötte. Ebédjét nagyjából fél óra alatt fogyasztotta el, majd újabb sétára indult a kertbe, ami adig tartott ameddig csak jól esett neki, majd utána elmondta imáit. Ezután felkereste asszonyait, gyermekeit és velük töltött egy-két órát, majd az esti imára távozott. Az ima után vagy lakrészébe tért vissza vagy a kertben sétált újra, esetleg olvasott. Vacsora előtt újra imádkozott, majd megvacsorázott, mialatt sokat társalgott vacsora partnereivel. A vacsora sötétedés után két órával ért véget, ekkor újra imádkozott majd aludni tért.

A szultán visszahúzódó természete, néptől való távolmaradása fokozatosan egyre csökkentette népszerűségét. Ennek csúcsa 1580 körül jött el, mikor a szultán férfiassága került a gúny középpontjába. Szárnyra kelt ugyanis az a pletyka miszerint Murad impotens. Olyannyira mindenki erről beszélt a városban, hogy még a történészek, írók és követek is rendszeresen megemlékeztek róla és számos gúnyos versike kelt szárnyra. Végül a szultán kedvencét, Safiye szultánát vádolták meg azzal, hogy ő teszi impotenssé a férfit és száműzték őt lányaival együtt, miután egyik levele Nurbanuhoz került. Murad impotenciája hamarosan valóban megszűnt és rengeteg ágyast fogadott, megszámlálhatatlan gyermeket nemzve. Bár, ez mutatja, Murad férfiasságát visszaszerezte, ezáltal pedig népszerűsége is valamennyire helyrebillent, hamarosan hatalmas tragédia érte.

A magányos szultán

Murad édesanyja Nurbanu 1583 elején visszavonult saját palotájába miután egészségi állapota alaposan leromlott. Év végére a helyzet olyan tragikus volt, hogy Murad állandóan feketében járt. De ez nem volt elég gond, legidősebb fiával is nagyon elmérgesedett viszonya. Mehmed ugyanis nyíltan kiállt édesanyja, Safiye mellett, követelte apjától, hogy azonnal hozassa vissza édesanyját a száműzetésből és vegye feleségül, hogy helyre hozza a tisztességén esett csorbát. Murad természetesen csúnyán elutasította fiát és elzavarta. Kapcsolatuk olyan szintre romlott, hogy decemberben, mikor Mehmed saját tartományába utazott volna Murad nem volt hajlandó kimenni elbúcsúzni fiától. Mehmed napokig várta apját a városban állomásozva, remélve, hogy végül megmutatja magát. Olybá tűnt, hogy Mehmed apja és anyja áldása nélkül kell, hogy elhagyja a fővárost.

Nurbanu szultána állapota Mehmed távozásával egy időben válságossá vált, Murad pedig édesanyjához sietett. Nurbanu halálos ágyán másról sem beszélt, csak könyörgött fiának, hogy hozza rendbe kapcsolatát Mehmed herceggel. Nurbanu végül úgy hunyt el, hogy fia végig mellette volt és zokogott. Murad anyja halálával egyedül maradt, elvesztette legnagyobb támogatóját, tanácsadóját, valamint fiával is elmérgesedett viszonya. Sajnos nem sokat tudun arról, hogy többi gyermekével milyen viszonyban lehetett. Mahmud herceg 1580/1 környékén elhunyt. Lányaival talán közelebbi viszonyban volt, tekintettel arra, hogy osztoztak hobbijukban. Murad híres bibliofil volt és nagyon érdekelte az asztrológia, melyek közül előbbiben bizonyosan osztozott lányaival Ayşével és Fatmával. Talán a lányok nem álltak ki annyira nyíltan apjukkal szemben Safiye érdekében, talán nekik könnyebben megbocsátott, de úgy tűnik, velük nem romlott meg a kapcsolata.

Murad igen érzelmes férfi lehetett, aki sokat filozofált. Talán épp emiatt köthető hozzá a temetkezésekben is igen sok változás bevezetése. Alapvetően a szultánok egyedüli "lakói" voltak türbéjüknek, ő azonban úgy döntött, hogy ez így nem jó. Tudva, hogy saját szülei milyen közel álltak egymáshoz, Nurbanu szultánát halála után közvetlenül apja mellé temette, sőt trónralépésekor kivégzett öccseit is Szelim türbéjében helyeztette el. Érdekesség, hogy uralkodása alatt hunyt el Mihrimah szultána is, akiről köztudott volt, mennyire közel állt Szulejmánhoz, valószínűleg épp ezért temettette Szulejmán mellé Mihrimah szultánát. Nem igazán van más lehetséges magyarázat, ugyanis Mihrimaht eltemethették volna egyik saját mecset komplexumába, férje komplexumába vagy akár testvérei komplexumába, a Şehzade mecset komplexumban. Murad mégis Szulejmán mellé temettette, bizonyára okkal.

Egy ilyen érzelmes, visszahúzódó ember esetében talán nem meglepő, hogy nem viselte jól a magányt és édesanyja halála után nemsokkal visszahívta Safiyét maga mellé és fia tanácsát megfogadva 1585-ben vagy 1586-ban feleségül is vette. Bár szexuális kapcsolatuk nem volt többé, hiszen Murad ifjú ágyasokkal vette körbe magát, Safiye lett tanácsadója és megértő társa. Murad tisztelte és nagyra tartotta Safiye eszét, korántsem fogadta meg olyan vakon tanácsait, mint korábban édesanyja tanácsait. Safiye jelenléte fontos lehetett abban is, hogy nem mérgesedett tovább Murad és Mehmed herceg viszonya. Az asszony ugyanis rendszeresen látta el fiát tanácsokkal, és igyekezett őt engedelmes fiúként mutatni Murad felé.

Safiye mellett egyik ágyas sem tudott politikai ügyekbe avatkozni, azonban ismert két másik ágyas, akik jótékonykodni tudtak, ami arra utal, hogy Murad kedvencei lehettek. Nem kizárt, hogy több ágyasa is jótékonykodásba fogott, bizonyíték azonban csak erről a két nőről van. Şems-i Ruhsar Hatun, Rukiye szultána anyja Medinában hozott létre egy alapítványt; Şah-i Huban Hatunnak pedig szintén alapítványai voltak életében. Emellett Szelim herceg anyja is valamekkora hatalommal rendelkezhetett, ugyanis vannak erre utaló közvetett bizonyítékok. Azonban Safiye volt az egyetlen nő Murad életében, aki befolyásolni tudta és akit egyenrangú félnek tekintett.

Utolsó évei és halála

Utolsó éveiben szinte teljesen bezárózott a palotába, a tanácsülésekre sem járt el, a palotát magát pedig főleg nem hagyta el. Ezt bizonyára elősegítette, hogy két lázadás is történt ellene, 1589-ben a janicsárok, 1592-ben a szpáhik kezdtek felkelésbe. Emellett egészsége is nagyon sokat romlott utolsó éveiben. 1592-ben a visszatérő velencei követ - aki 1588-ban látta utoljára a szultánt - arról számolt be, hogy Murad nagyon meghízott, ami alacsony termete miatt különösen deformált külsőt eredményezett nála, emellett arca állandóan vörös volt, epilepsziával, állandó fülproblémákkal és más egészségügyi gondokkal is küzdött, szinte egész nap aludt. Murad halálának okai ismeretlenek, valószínűleg természetes okokból kifolyólag hunyt el 1595-ben. Az Hagia Sophiában helyezték végső nyugalomra.

Felhasznált források: L. Peirce - The imperial harem; M. P. Pedani - Safiye's household and Venetian diplomacy; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; Necdet Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; F. Suraiya, K. Fleet - The Cambridge History of Turkey 1453-1603; Kayaalp-Aktan - The Atik Valide Mosque Complex: A testament of Nurbanu’s prestige, power and piety

#Murad III #Selim II #sehzade murad #safiye sultan #Nurbanu Sultan #nurbanu valide sultan #Mehmed III #Suleiman the Magnificent #Suleiman I #sultan suleyman #sehzade bayezid

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rzeqvrtz · 3 years

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&&. cauldron above, ( saria young ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( she ) is affiliated with ( the winter court ). ( she ) is a(n) ( 70 / appears 21 ) year old ( lesser fae ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( freya mavor ). ( she ) has been said to be ( friendly & earnest ) but also quite ( shy & clumsy ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( tatiana valentina’s handmaiden ).

~*{ run, doe eyes }*~

full name: saria elizabeth young

born: september 27th | libra

aesthetics: oversized sweaters, new spring buds, freckles that look like constellations, the smell of old books, barefeet, hidden glances, longing looks, red cheeks, pastel pink, fresh baked goods, nervous giggles, sleeping in until noon, clean laundry, gardenia flowers, hummingbird kisses

basic physical stats: 5’4 | gold-blonde hair | blue eyes |

distinctive features: freckles | full breasted | curly hair

notable connections: arielle deerling, hazar korkmaz, the spring court, the valentina family, the winter court

wings

biography:

It is not often that the Lesser Fae of Astralis are anything other than what their name entails; lesser than the other great fae species on the magical continent, living their lives peacefully together and one with nature. But, from time to time, fate throws the normal out into the wind. A twist of fate is what began the lonely life of Saria Young, starting with her mother and father.

Both of Saria’s parents were lesser fae, but it was her mother who belonged to a family who existed slightly higher than the rest. Lesser fae lived together in sprawling towns and villages across the Courts of Astralis, and her mother’s family was no different, yet her grandfather had managed to make a name for himself within their commune only several miles away from Deerling Castle and the Avalon City. A cutthroat man with little regard for the struggles of others, he quite literally fell into a fortune when he happened upon a dragon’s cave lair some three hundred years ago while out exploring Cloverwood Forrest, though he did not slay the dragon himself. Rather, the dragon appeared to have passed on to the next life because of old age. Her grandfather took all the gold and jewels he could carry and brought it back to the small home he shared with his wife. With their new found wealth, Saria’s grandfather and grandmother quickly invested in trade and commerce, and over the next several decades, would become one of those few lesser fae who were able to climb the social ladder. Though her grandparents would never be close to the status of a lord or lady, they were still influential merchants all the same, and her grandfather would eventually become something of a local legend and leader of their small village.

After their wealth and life had become solidified, Saria’s mother was born — a picture of sunshine golden curls, freckled skin, and soft spoken brown eyes. As she was a daughter born into somewhat better circumstances than other lesser fae like her, Saria’s grandparents expected her to marry someone who was not lesser fae, instead setting their sights on the other, more renowned species of Astralis fae. But it is not uncommon for children to rebel against parents who try to plan their child’s life for them — and while it is from she who Saria gets her shyness and gentle charm, her mother could not help but rebel, though not intentionally. Once upon a time, a handsome lesser fae man with crystal blue eyes hailing from the Winter Court happened upon their village.

Their love would not last. Rather, it was nothing but a game to the strange man — he seduced the young blonde over several weeks, and when they finally shared a night beneath the constellations together in the warm embrace of Spring, he was gone the next morning without a trace. Heart broken and ashamed that she had been tricked into giving herself to someone who did not love her, Saria’s mother finally agreed to do as her parents willed. But before she could be married, she soon discovered she was pregnant. Saria’s grandparents locked her away in the hopes that nobody would notice, that they could be rid of the bastard child born of lust, and eventually marry their daughter to the fae of their choosing.

Saria’s mother became ill during her pregnancy, and though the midwives thought they would lose the child, the mother was lost instead. Just as Saria took her first breath, her mother took her last. Her grandparents were heartbroken. Saria might have had an easy life, might have grown up with a loving family to call her own… Saria looked so much like her mother that her grandparents considered raising her as their own. But soon, Saria would open her eyes for the first time, and that imaginary life was shattered. Blue eyes, like her father — crystal blue eyes that ruined the illusion that Saria might be the daughter that they had lost.

Her grandfather ordered their servants to get rid of her — but her grandmother knew what that might entail, and behind her husband’s back and surly the opposite of what he wanted, and in her guilt she paid the servant to find a place where Saria might grow up happy. That is how Saria Young arrived in Avalon City, left in a swaddle of fabric outside the entrance to the kitchens of Deerling Castle, and where she would grow from child into young woman.

Saria’s childhood was not an easy one — though her fellow servants in Deerling Castle were kind, it could not be helped that Saria was an outsider. The other servants her age thought her strange because of her shyness, and she had never been good at making friends — her voice would shake whenever she tried, and try as she might to run and play with the servant’s children her own age, she was too small to keep up and too meek to participate in their banter. Many had a hand in raising her, but none of them ever truly considered her family — there were many nights where Saria tucked herself into bed, and many more where she fell asleep wondering about the family who had left her behind.

Once she was old enough, Saria became a kitchen wench in the kitchens. Though she was not at all a fine cook, she found solace in baking every sweet under the Spring sun. In the kitchens, she could hide herself away and clean the pots and pans, and use the ovens once everybody had fallen asleep. It was in these years that Saria would grow from an awkward teenager — a phase that seemed to last well past her 50th birthday — into a beautiful young woman. Over time, Saria had managed to make true friends within the castle… including a handsome knight whom made her cheeks warm and her heart flutter. Finally, the cook — one of many who had helped raised her, and the closest thing she had to a father figure despite that their relationship consisted mostly of his chastising — decided Saria’s skills would be better used elsewhere.

This was how Saria became a chambermaid to none other than Princess Arielle Deerling — a ray of sunshine who Saria was several decades older than. Saria had always had something of a softspot for the young princess — it was Saria who knew her favorite sweets for desert despite not yet having met her — because she knew what it was like to grow up without a mother. Saria did her best to make the princess as comfortable as possible, quickly learning how to fluff her overstuffed pillows and arrange her luxurious duvet just so. As Arielle quickly grew into a beautiful young nymph right before Saria’s very eyes, they became close friends — and though her elder brothers Ares and Apollo made Saria extremely nervous with their womanizing ways, nothing made Saria happier than watching the Deerling siblings interact and laugh with one another. For a decade, Saria remained in Arielle’s service, and it was no surprise that the two were fast friends. During this ten or so years as a chambermaid, Saria was happier than she’d ever been in the kitchens, despite that she would still sneak away in the night and return in the morning covered in flour.

Saria was perfectly content to spend the rest of her life as a servant to the princess, but even though she had no complaints about her life, Saria could not help but wonder about her own family and what might have been. Who was her mother? Did she look like her? Was her father a brave knight like the one she watched so closely with a racing heart? These questions simmered and simmered in her golden-curled head, until she finally gained the courage to ask the cook what he might know of her past. The cook was not able to tell her much, instead directing her to the woman who had found her outside the castle; the one who had taken her from her grandparent’s servant. Knowing Saria would come asking one day, she told her what little information she could. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father was nowhere to be found… but she had kept up with rumors over the years, and was able to find out that he was a lesser fae of the Winter Court. With this new information, Saria could not help that her curiosity grew until it was a tremendous force that would not leave her mind.

It was no surprise that Princess Arielle could tell something was bothering her friend. Saria would eventually tell her of her thoughts of her father — supposedly living and the only true family she had in the world. Excitable as always, Arielle eagerly declared that it was Saria’s destiny to find him. During her service to Arielle, Saria had met the High Lord and Princess of the Winter Court, Viktor and Tatiana Valentina. Though she would be sad to see her go, Arielle encouraged her to travel to the Winter Court and work as a handmaid for the Winter princess. Mortified, Saria tried to turn down the idea. How could she work for Tataiana, when secretly she had been watching Viktor for years? They had only spoken briefly, of course — nothing like the conversations she had with her knight, though he had left Deerling Castle — but…

But Viktor Valentina was a dream, one that constantly visited her in the night as she slept. A man she always asked after in the softest voice possible, checking her reflection in polished silver each time she knew he would be visiting Spring. She loved her knight, though she did not know the complications of their relationship until much later, but Viktor? Viktor was always kind to her, with his dark eyes and curly dark hair… the man she wished would fall in love with her, just like in the stories of common girls and princes finding their hearts were one.

Despite insisting she remain, it was not long before Arielle secured her new employment. Everything happened in such a whirlwind after that. One minute, Saria was basking in the glow of Spring, and the next, she was packing her meager belongings and arriving in Matovaya Zemlya with her delicate hummingbird wings tucked into warm furs. She has only been a citizen of the Winter Court for a short time — a handmaid, now, and working all the more closer with the man of her dreams — and doing all she can to find her father… but Saria has a secret that she is too embarrassed to reveal, and believes her goal might be unachievable. How can she find any written proof of her father’s whereabouts in Winter when she was never taught to read?

Though her time in Winter has not been long, Saria is determined to prove her worth to the Valentinas; specifically to Princess Tatiana. The Princess, closer to her age than Arielle, is certainly a handful, though Saria has always enjoyed her visits with Arielle. Saria has vowed to be the best she can be because of Arielle’s kindness, and hopes that she and Tatiana can become just as close; the friendship has already begun to blossom, and Saria — despite her initial reluctance — is thrilled to be a member of her household. Fate is a fickle thing, and somehow, a lesser fae commoner — a servant in every form — has managed to gain the trust of not one, but two giggly, excitable, and eternally kind princesses. Though she has left the Spring Court behind, little does she know, familiar faces run wild in her new frosted home...

#~*{ morganite -- about }*~#~*{ morganite -- saria young }*~#ahqintro

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ertrunkenerwassergeist · 4 years

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Born Into the Wilds - Chapter 11

Mehe. Finally did it! Sorry it took so long -.- Here’s the Link to AO3.

In which the Glaive travels back to Insomnia and Nyx gets a gift.

Featuring: Nyx' coeurl instincts, magical stuff, characters the author didn't plan, Nyx' new crush and clothes.

Words in Hadnissa:

namakar = huntress; lit.: she-hunter makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter memakar = hunter; lit.: he-hunter akastral = ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors mahir = mother; affectionate form, lit.: woman who birthed me sineähr = Elder; title for people over 70 ohlro ar fahl Eohsas = a formal greeting; lit.: Eos' light be on you. rid ohlro ar = answer to a formal greeting; lit.: and on you fohrnfilkar = polite address to an unknown Galahkar schiwel = clan thuirahn = grandfather limeschti = traditional welcoming tea lumo varistos = thank you; formal

Whoever had constructed these stairs deserved to be called back from behind the Gate and be killed again. Very, very painfully.

The steps were directly carved into the rock of the Crag, winding their way up in serpentines. Every step was of a different height than the one that came before it, and more often than not, one had to take one to two strides to actually reach the next one. It was all one big trip hazard.

Some of the stairs were cracked from age and fallen boulders. Sometimes those boulders still lay there, like their only purpose was to keep them from reaching the upper edge of the Crag.

Nyx took a deep breath and looked down. The bronze afternoon sun made it difficult to see the ground, but he judged they had made it about halfway up at this point. He had taken point once they had reached the stairs as he was the best climber out of all three of them. Ladone, the least injured, took the rear and Libertus was between them.

They hadn't even passed the second serpentine when Libertus had started to lag behind because of his injuries. His new battle axe had been repurposed as a walking stick, its blade bobbed next to his head like a cloud, the sharp edges seemed to absorb all light around it.

It was slow going and secretly Nyx worried that they wouldn't be able to make it all the way up before night fell. Should they not make it, defending themselves against daemons would be very difficult. At least there didn't seem to be any wyvern nests nearby. That would have just been their luck.

Ignoring the muscles in his legs that increasingly felt like they turned into jelly with each new step he took, Nyx turned around and waited until Libertus and Ladone had come closer.

“Has one of you managed to radio Luche yet?”

Both shook their heads and Libertus grimaced at the action. The cut across his face had stopped bleeding entirely some time ago and his hunting-brother had done his best to clean most of the blood off his face, while they had taken a short break some time ago. Its edges had swollen slightly and turned red. Nyx tried not to let it worry him too much. He wasn't very successful.

“Do you need a break, big guy?” he asked.

They needed to get higher up to leave the area of interference, but Libertus also needed all the energy he could get. With mistrustful eyes he looked at the crystalline structure Libertus stood next to. They had a very strange presence and Nyx was convinced they were the reason why anything electronic ceased functioning down in the Crag.

“Nah. I can continue for a bit longer,” Libertus waved aside his concern.

“Okay, but if you need to stop, you tell me,” he demanded and Libertus rolled his eyes.

“You know, normally I'm the one demanding you take a break,” his hunting-brother grouched playfully and took a pointed step forward.

Nyx huffed and exchanged a look with Ladone, who just raised a thin eyebrow.

“All right, all right. I see when I'm beaten.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just wanted to be the responsible one.”

Libertus muttered something under his breath that sounded like “For now”.

Not gracing that with an answer, Nyx continued their way up.

Shadows chased their heels as if they were stalking prey, as they reached the last turn of the stairs. The sun had sunken worryingly low. It would touch the horizon in maybe another half an hour. They would never make it back to the rest of the Glaive in time before nightfall, if they weren't already on their way back to Insomnia like they were supposed to, that was.

Behind him he could hear Ladone speak into her earpiece again. “This is Namakar Najad of Oresh Unit, do you read me? We found Makti-oir Ulric. I repeat: We found Makti-oir Ulric. He's alive and mostly unharmed.”

For a few long seconds there was silence and Nyx thought they were still within the field of interference the damn Crag gave off, when Ladone spoke again.

“Yes, I copy.”

He couldn't see it, but he heard the smile in her voice.

A soundless sigh of relief escaped him as he eyed the setting sun again. Wrecking his brain for a haven that might be near here, he came up with nothing. He blinked slowly and felt his eyes wanting to remain shut. Damn, he was exhausted. What he wouldn't give for a nice and comfy bed right now. And a hot shower and some food. Nyx looked at his slightly trembling hands and wondered if they shook from hunger or fatigue or both.

“Memakar Ostium is the most injured and in need of medical attention. We came upon fierce opposition in the Crag.”

Nyx gave a quiet snort.

“That's one way to put it,” muttered Libertus, not far behind him.

They continued on their way while Ladone gave a short report of their situation. Nyx shielded his eyes from the furiously glowing sun that was a bloated ball of red and gold as it touched the horizon, and looked around, as he finally reached the end of the stairs.

“I don't know exactly where we are, but we're definitely further south from our original position. There's grassland on both sides of the Crag, but we're definitely in Duscae. Should make things a bit easier,” he called back towards Ladone who relayed the information.

Studying their surroundings a bit more closely, Nyx couldn't find a place that looked like they would be able to hole up in for the night, if worst came to worst. They stood on a flat, grassy plane that receded the closer to the edge of Tealpar Crag it grew, until there was just naked rock and a few smaller boulders. It was a shit place to be stranded in for the night.

Libertus walked up next to him, leaning heavily on his axe.

“We need to keep moving. If we stay here, we'll make a very nice meal for the next big daemon coming by,” his hunting-brother muttered lowly.

“There's still some light left, big guy. We'll figure something out,” Nyx replied and wondered who exactly he was trying to convince.

Libertus threw him a deadpan stare.

“How are you holding up?” Nyx asked, instead of thinking further on their impending problem for the moment.

“If I sit down now I won't get up for a while,” Libertus answered with a quiet hum. “So don't even try to make me rest or some shit.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Nyx knew Libertus would bounce back from his wounds with little to no problem. He had lived through worse injuries when they had had to flee Galahd.

A sneer flittered across his hunting-brother's face and for a second his eyes found the bead he had tied a hand's width beneath the axe's blades with strands of Gilgamesh's pale hair.

“Should have killed him is what I should have done. I wonder who managed to cut his arm off. Would adopt that person into the Clan right now, rules or no rules.”

“We both know you can't just kill an akastral by shoving a few knives into it,” Nyx reminded him.

Libertus snorted. “Since when do you give a shrew's ass about that?” He sighed and looked to the sky that would soon lose its red and gold glory. “You know what really gets me? That he isn't corrupted. He should be for what he's done. Then it would be easier to... ahtrii damn it, this happened two and a half thousand years ago!”

Nyx didn't say anything. Just waited for Libertus to come to grips with whatever he was struggling with. He would tell him what was bothering him so much as soon as he was ready. His hunting-brother always did.

“There's a reason we settled to close to the eastern most shore of Galahd, you know?” Libertus suddenly spoke up again.

“You never told me that,” Nyx said with a raised eyebrow.

A sardonic grin was his answer. “Yeah well, it just never came up. Other than the stories to remember what happened, talking about Gilgamesh-” he spat the name out like it was the foulest thing he had ever tasted- “is practically a taboo. He could have been family. Loved and remembered and treasured. Instead he threw that all away to become that.”

“Whenever you're ready, I'll be there to listen, big guy,” Nyx said after a heartbeat of silence.

Libertus shot him such a pathetically grateful look, Nyx had to avert his eyes. He gently clasped the other man's shoulder and watched as Ladone walked up to them.

“I've got no idea what you did with Luche, Nyx, but he's been waiting for us to call. The whole caravan is making their way south to pick us up.” Her voice was underlined by a quiet wonder that showed just how much she hadn't expected this.

“I didn't do anything,” he exclaimed, utterly astonished himself.

The Glaive should have been on their way back by now to make it to the three day mark. That Luche 'I abide the rules to the letter' Lazarus had waited to hear from them was utterly unexpected.

Libertus rolled his eyes. “Of course you did, you hero. I know you two were talking.”

“We didn't talk about that much.”

“From what I hear through the grapevine, you're on the best way to make the Lazarus Clan your ally,” Ladone added. “But enough of that. We have two hours at least until they are here, and we need to figure out what we're going to do until then.”

Nyx took a deep breath to centre himself. Since they had started to climb out of the Crag, his magic had been replenishing at a steady rate. Neither reservoir was enough to fight off more powerful daemons, but maybe...

“Ladone, can you do a warding circle?”

A pair of thin eyebrows climbed upwards. “I can do that. However, it won't do much of anything without the right ingredients and I don't have any of them on me. Why? What are you thinking?” she demanded.

“Do it then, please. Make it a perimeter big enough for the three of us. I have no idea, if what I'm thinking of will work, but it's worth a shot.”

“What are you thinking of?” Libertus demanded to know with the same expression on his face he had had when Nyx had proposed the idea they should try to warp through walls.

They watched for a moment, as Ladone pulled out one of her kukris and started to carve lines into the earth. Nyx would help, but she was most likely using a circle variant that had a water focus, and he had no real idea how those were made up.

“Coeurl's need to protect themselves from daemons, too. So I figure since you know-” he waved a hand in front of them, a tiny spark travelling between his fingers- “I might just as well try it.”

Libertus frowned thoughtfully. “That might actually not be a bad idea.”

“Hey! I have many good ideas.”

“As long as you don't fry us all, that is,” his hunting-brother continued, as if he hadn't heard Nyx' indignant cry.

“I have three words for you: The Old Apothecary's Trail,” Ladone spoke up from where she was still carving the lines and symbols into the ground.

Nyx winced. “Okay, that was dumb. But I was also a kid with something to prove, and Libs and I got a sister out of it. So it wasn't that bad.”

“We nearly died more than once, you hero. Being in mortal peril for a whole night doesn't count as 'not that bad' in my book,” Libertus snorted with no real heat behind it. “But you're right about Crowe.”

“Mahir had me on forge duty for a whole month, and all the while she tried to get more food into Crowe,” Nyx remembered with a far away look.

If he concentrated enough, he could still feel the soot under his fingernails, he hadn't been able to clean out until weeks after his punishment had been finished.

“Done,” Ladone announced and brought Nyx out of his reverie.

She stood in the circle of her work, the lines deep and dark between the blades of grass. Above them the sky was turning darker and the first stars were winking down at the world. They were cutting it mighty close. Nyx helped Libertus into the circle, careful that neither of them touched any of the lines.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered once they were all safely within the warding circle.

He sunk deep into his magic, as far as he could manage, to get to the source of the animal-deep jungle-instinct sparking within him. A satisfied purr rumbled in his chest as he travelled along his magic's path to carefully guide it to what he wanted to do.

It was surprisingly easy. Only partially aware of what his body was doing, he sat down in the cooling grass and close to the pack mates he wanted to protect, sprawled out like a possessive cat. Lightning sparked first along his arms and hands, then between his fingers before it travelled into the ground and along the lines elder pack mate had carved into the ground with her claw.

Pack-brother gave a startled yelp as the lines crackled with energy and began to glow a blueish purple. Nyx gave a calming rumble to help calm him down. If pack-brother hadn't been injured, he would have flopped all over him to make it clearer that Nyx would never hurt him, but instead was protecting him. He wanted to lick the wound on his face clean. And probably would have done so, if he wouldn't have to sit still to keep the lightning from fizzling out.

Elder pack mate stood sentry, still and unmoving as she watched their surroundings. With a deep rumble of approval he cast his senses out in search for threats. None of the weaker of those rancid smelling night hunters would dare come near, but the powerful ones were a concern. Nyx himself was not at full power. He had only enough left to keep this protective field up until more of his pack arrived to take them to their temporary den.

He looked out into the night. The part that was still mostly Nyx Ulric and not a mass of coeurl-instinct-protect wondered how the lightning of his magic wasn't blinding him. Overhead the stars slowly lit up the night in a beautiful monochrome.

Only once during their wait did a night hunter dare to come near. It was a lone humanoid carrying a weapon propped against its shoulder. It ambled near, clearly curious, but vanished quickly at Nyx' warning roar. None would harm his pack mates while he was able to protect them.

At the roar elder pack mate's hands flew to her claws and pack-brother gave a quiet curse, but nothing else happened. Satisfied, Nyx gave a quiet rumble.

Another rumbling sound joined it. At first it was far away but slowly grew closer and louder. Nyx tensed, awaiting an enemy. A twin pair of lights pierced the monochrome, joined by another and another and many more.

Pack-brother gave an excited shout and Nyx relaxed the tiniest bit. The pack had finally come.

The rumbling pairs of light stopped not far from their warding circle that still glowed and cracked with charged lightning. People appeared, staring and and whispering.

“Nyx, you can stop now,” elder pack member said gently.

He gave an unwilling growl. The night smelled foul and he could sense another night hunter not too far away.

“They can't take us back to Insomnia, if you don't cancel the lightning,” she reminded him.

Nyx gave a miffed huff. His lightning would never harm a pack mate. Never. He wouldn't let it. Nonetheless, languidly, he stretched his limbs out and loosened his muscles. With each careful movement the lightning surrounding them grew weaker, until Nyx stood up and it stopped.

The blueish violet glow in the lines of the warding circle stayed.

Nyx didn't care about the power still pulsing along the carved lines in the earth, or the whispers and stares flitting from the circle to him and back. Instead he prowled amongst the members of his pack until he found pack-sister. He couldn't see it, but he knew she had cried. With a reassuring purr from deep within his chest he draped an arm over her shoulders and rubbed his chin and cheek over the crown of her head. She clung to him with the fierce strength of relief.

“Don't you ever scare me like that again, Nyx Ulric! You hear?” Her voice was muffled against the material of his coat.

Neither in the mood nor willing for a more verbal answer, he purred louder against her hair.

“All right people. Back into your seats! We need to go now, if we want to make it by morning,” sounded the voice of pack leader-in-his-absence.

Pack-sister gently pushed him towards the leading vehicle and he went willingly. Before he knew it he found himself draped over pack-sister, elder pack mate, pack leader-in-his-absence and another, making his satisfaction known with a rumbling purr.

Their voices drifted around him, but Nyx didn't care to listen. Instead he blinked slowly and watched pack-brother for a moment, who sat across of him, being fussed over by another pack mate. He was tired. So, so tired. A hand carded through his hair and he closed his eyes, gently drifting off to his own purrs and the rumbling of the vehicle beneath him.

Blue eyes blinked open. With a jaw cracking yawn and stretching limbs, Nyx wondered what had woken him until he noticed that the engine of the military van he was in, had turned off.

“Finally back with us, you big cat?” a voice above him questioned, equal parts amused and exasperated.

Brain still sluggish from sleep and wondering why the surface he lay on was so uneven, he twisted around to look over his shoulder and found Crowe gazing down at him. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes and pale skin. Her uniform was rumpled and her hair a mess, but otherwise she seemed alright.

“Good morning. At last one of us got some sleep,” Ladone announced herself dryly from next to his storm-sister.

“Not to complain or anything, but can you get off my legs now, please? I swear I can't feel my feet anymore,” Pelna complained from the other end of the bench.

Only then did Nyx notice that he was sprawled over the legs of Crowe, Ladone, Luche and Pelna. Deciding the easiest way was to just roll off, he landed on all fours in the space between the two benches before he climbed out of the open door.

They were at their usual post-mission drop-off point in Insomnia, near the military hospital. The morning sun shone warmly down on him. Hadn't it just been night outside?

“When did we get here?” he asked Pelna who came out of the van, stretching his limbs and groaning.

“Maybe fifteen minutes ago? Libertus just got taken into the hospital. By the way, you need to get checked out as well.”

Nyx hummed non-committally and looked around. Glaives mingled between the vans, most tired and pale and dirty, but alright. Some who saw him, gave wide eyed stares, others respectful nods and one or two even crossed their wrists in greeting. He bit back an exasperated groan. Why had he decided taking the position of makti-oir was a good idea again?

“What are the numbers?” he asked and it was Luche who answered.

“All of us have scrapes and bruises, the mages all have some form of magical exhaustion. Around thirty people need medical attention, twelve of those are more heavily injured. Other than that nothing.”

“No fatalities?”

“None.”

Shoulders sagging, Nyx gave a sigh in relief. That was good. Very good. And with this and all their goals, other than Glauca's death, accomplished, this was their most successful field mission in years.

“General Leonis radioed in as soon as we entered the city limits. The King wants a personal debrief in six hours sharp, and since only one of us got some sleep on the drive here, I'll go take a nap before I have to deal with mainlander logic,” Luche reported and walked away with a nod.

“When did he gain such a mouth?” Pelna wondered half-jokingly.

“I just found out he has a sense of humour last week,” Nyx shrugged.

“No gossiping like dithering sinehäri. Off to the hospital with you three. I hope I don't need to hold your hands for you to actually do it.” Ladone stared at the Pelna, Crowe and him with flint stone eyes, and they all shook their heads. “Good. Pelna, Crowe, catch some sleep afterwards. Makti-oir Ulric, I cannot tell you what to do, but my advice would be to go see Ethin of the Sarcina Clan after a hot shower and a meal.”

Dumbfounded, Nyx nodded. He'd been yearning for that shower and something to eat since he had woken up. He didn't need Ladone to tell him that. But why Ethin Sarcina? He was one of the best tailors of Galahd. And not only because he could kill you with a needle in two seconds flat.

He exchanged a look with Crowe and Pelna as Ladone sauntered off, her new trident slung over her back. Both shrugged, and together they made their way into the hospital.

Before they had even reached the nurse manning the reception, she held the telephone receiver to her ear and started speaking. Not even five minutes later, Nyx found himself shaking the hand of a man who introduced himself as the assistant medical director, who would do Nyx' examination himself, if he didn't have any personal preferences for a physician, that was?

Mutely he shook his head, because what the fuck?

The normal check-up for slight injuries was done by an assistant physician who looked like she wasn't paid enough for the work she was doing, and not getting enough sleep. She was pretty alright, managing to smile through Tredd's temper, Luche's standoffishness and Kepho's flirting.

This assistant medical director was a slender man in his late fifties, who must have been the sporty type in his youth, with dyed brown hair and such perfect teeth, they must be every dentist's wet dream.

Sharing a baffled look with Crowe and Pelna, all three of them followed the doctor past the military wing that took up eighty percent of the hospital and into the wing that was reserved for nobility. The three dirty Glaives stuck out like sore thumbs.

Both Crowe and Pelna were asked to wait in a very fancy waiting area that only had one other occupant at the moment. The man looked utterly scandalized as the two Glaives sat down. Nyx followed the doctor down the hallway until they reached an examination room.

It was spacious, near half the size of Nyx' dingy apartment, with a very comfy looking examination table, something that looked like a wooden floor, a big desk and cushy chairs. Nyx could see his medical file on said desk.

Feeling utterly uncomfortable in this room, Nyx followed the doctor's instructions through the whole examination. At last the man was professional.

“Thank you, Sir Ulric. I'll prescribe you a potion regimen for your injuries. The slight concussion should be gone after the first dosage and the lacerations on your side should be healed after two days at most. Please take this prescription to our in-house apothecary. The nurse there will answer any questions you might have.”

Nyx left the room, feeling strangely dazed. He watched Crowe follow a nurse out of the waiting area and sat down next to Pelna, who had his nose deep in a gossip rag.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked to keep himself from thinking too hard about why he had been examined by the assistant medical director of all people.

“Yes, actually,” Pelna affirmed, leafed through the magazine until he found what he was looking for, and held it out to Nyx.

There, in big, bold letters the headline read:

Hidden Royalty of Galahd?

Beneath is was a picture of himself as he walked down the streets of Little Galahd. There was a slight smile on his face as he looked down to the child that was tugging at the hem of his tunic to get his attention. It must have been taken shortly after his election to makti-oir and at a great distance, because he hadn't noticed any mainlanders near at the time.

“What the fuck?” breathed Nyx.

“This is the newest issue. Apparently they're now really convinced you're a king. There's an interview with a society expert who claims to have 'taken an extensive look' at our social structure. It's utter garulacrap. The guy just tried to give everything a Lucian stamp, it's actually pretty hilarious,” Pelna grinned, though his eyes were sympathetic.

Nyx stared at him. “You're so weird.”

Pelna shrugged, utterly unrepentant.

“Sir Khara?” a nurse asked from the doorway.

Pelna put the magazine away and stood up. “You should go, too. Take a shower, you can't turn up in the throne room stinking like you haven't washed in four days and rolled through a sewer.”

“I don't smell that bad!” Nyx protested.

He didn't really mean in however, because he knew he really did smell pretty bad, even if none of the nurses or doctors here had reacted to it. They were probably used to worse things than a smelly human being.

He left the hospital after a brief visit to the apothecary, where he got his potions. Reading the print on the box, he nearly did a double take. These were the good ones. The stuff he normally wouldn't be able to afford a single vial of, with a month's salary. For a few moments he stood on the walkway in front of the hospital, staring down at the box in his hands, until he forcibly shook his head and headed towards his apartment.

All the way there he was followed by the curious stares and whispers of Lucians. One time he could have sworn he had heard a little girl ask their mother if he was the king. After that he had thought it prudent to take the shortcut over the roofs via warping.

Warping with a sword instead of kukris was strange, but manageable. Especially with the right motivation.

Freshly showered and after a quick meal, he was out on the streets again and on his way to Ethin Sarcina, of all people. The old tailor had his workshop at the edge of Little Galahd's market street. It was an old stone building that must have been decent middle class before the city had grown another layer.

The storefront showed two large, arching windows in which mannequins were artfully arranged and dressed in colourful tunics, trousers and dresses. As Nyx opened the door, a bell chimed through the saleroom.

“I'll be there in a moment!” called a voice from further inside.

Nyx looked at the rolls of fabric lining one wall, and the finished pieces meticulously hung on racks on the other side of the room. The floor was made of planks of wood that were probably just as old as the house itself, and across from the entrance was the counter, topped by an antique looking register.

A young woman – a girl still, really – stepped through the open doorway behind the counter.

“Welcome to the tailor's shop of Clan Sarcina. How may I- oh.” The girl's eyes grew huge as she recognized him. Hastily she stepped around the counter and crossed her wrists. “Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, makti-oir.”

“Rid ohlro ar, fohrnfilkar Sarcina schiwelk,” Nyx answered with a smile.

He wasn't really in the mood to discuss how he wasn't a fan of all this formality at all. The girl was already exited enough.

“Please follow me, makti-oir. Oirkar Sarcina is waiting for you,” she instructed and guided him through the doorway behind the counter and through a narrow hallway, into the back of the house.

The girl knocked on the only door in the hallway, and opened it after waiting for a second. “Thuirahn, Makti-oir Ulric is here.”

“Send him in!” came a voice from behind a workbench.

With a nod and a quiet thanks to the girl, he stepped into the cluttered workshop. She closed the door behind him and probably went back to man the counter.

“Welcome to my workshop, makti-oir,” boomed Ethin Sacina as he stepped towards Nyx with a wide smile.

He was a man of medium height with a mane of grey hair that was bound out of his face by a series of braids. His green eyes sparkled with a youthful energy that belied his growing age. They clasped each other's wrist in greeting.

“It's an honour to have you here, makti-oir. Namakar Najad commissioned something for you. She said with how things are going, you might need it sooner or later.”

“Truly?” Nyx asked, astonished. “And no need to call me makti-oir. I know my own title well enough.”

Ethin laughed. “True. But you shouldn't let other people forget.”

Nyx gave a slight frown, but said nothing. This wasn't a conversation he thought he would have right now. He knew titles were important to some extend, they made for an ease in communication and decision-making when times were dire. Or, they were supposed to, at last. Nyx had never needed to stand this high in the social hierarchy of Galahd, nor had he ever wanted to. It was a daunting task, and he didn't know if he could do right by the people that were now his responsibility.

“Come, sit. My grandniece will bring you some tea, while I'll fetch what was commissioned for you,” Ethin said and motioned towards an armchair in a corner of the room.

It stood next to a small table and was an island of order in what seemed, to Nyx, to be a chaotic room full of scraps of fabric, sewing machines, needle cushions, pattern samplings and mannequins. Right after Ethin finished speaking, a knock sounded. The door opened and a woman around Nyx' age entered with a tray balanced in her hands.

He was astonished to recognized her. She was the woman he had surprised by jumping down on her windowsill. He could feel his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

She greeted him with a mischievous smile and sat down on a stool to serve the tea. It was limeschti. A kind that smelled strongly of rose petals and pepper.

“Be welcome,” the woman intoned as he took the traditional cup from her hands. “We grant you safety in passage through our lands, and a place at our hearth for as long as you wish to stay. No harm shall come from me and mine. Fire and sun as my witness.”

“Lumo varistos. May your hearth burn strong and bright. No harm shall come from me to you or yours, during my journey through your lands. Fire and sun as my witness,” Nyx responded, raised the cup until it was level with his eyes and then took a sip.

The tea tasted as floral as it smelled with a spicy edge to it. It was pleasant.

The woman reciprocated the gesture. Together they sipped their tea in silence until they set the cups down with a silent clack.

“I am named Athina of Clan Sarcina,” she introduced herself after protocol had been observed.

Athina was a woman blessed by the sun, Nyx noted, her eyes a warm golden colour that squinted slightly as she smiled. Her skin was dark, as was typical for most of the Sarcina and her hair was a warm hazel colour. She wore her Clan braids on both sides of her head and the rest of her hair was swept up in a clean bun held together by sticks with which she could probably murder someone.

“It's good to meet you. I am named Nyx of Clan Ulric. Please, call me Nyx,” he answered with a nod and a slight smile.

Athina returned his smile with an impish tilt to her mouth. “This is better than dropping on my windowsill unannounced, is it not?”

Now Nyx was blushing for real. Athina laughed. It was high and tingling. Nyx had to fight not to stare at the way her eyes sparkled and her whole face seemed to glow.

“I am very sorry,” he managed to say somehow.

Athina dismissed his apology with the wave of an elegant hand and a grin. “Don't apologize. It was the highlight of my day. After all, it doesn't happen everyday that a good looking man basically drops into your living room with a cheeky grin and a wink.”

Nyx couldn't help but answer with a wide grin of his own. “I'm glad I could be of service.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted as Ethin came back, carrying a large wooden box in his arms.

“I'm glad to see you young people get along so well,” he said with a knowing grin. “Athina, be a dear and help me with this.”

“Of course, granduncle,” she said and stood up.

The box was set down on the stool Athina had just stood up from. At Ethin's prompting Nyx pulled open the lid and gaped in surprise. Inside the box, wrapped in rustling protective paper, lay a set of clothing. Of course it was clothing, Nyx admonished himself. He stood in the workshop of Galahd's best tailor, after all.

Carefully, he pulled out the colourful cloth laying on top. It was rectangular, at least two metres long and one metre wide. The main colours were blue and purple, one colour slowly flowing into the other, first blue, then purple and then blue again. Painted on it were a series of intricate never ending knots depicting a scene. Within the blue, white sea serpents coiled around each other and within the field of purple a coeurl roared. It, too, was white, and Nyx could have taken the image for the Great Coeurl, Lady of the Beasts and Queen of the Jungle, if not for the Ulric blue eye. Next to its raised paw floated a knife in grey and green.

It was the last white coeurl. The one who had skinned himself to become human and married Adrastea Ulric.

Nyx could do nothing but gape undignified, as he held the cloth aloft. It was light in his hands, near weightless, but solid and flowing.

“Summer silk,” he breathed.

“You're right,” Ethin proclaimed proudly.

“But... how?”

Summer silk was a kind of silk only produced on Galahd. It was made out of a mix of arachne silk and silk of the Galahdian native spider silk tree. Not even with two years worth of his salary would he be able to afford this. Not since Galahd had fallen.

“We have our ways,” the old tailor winked.

Nyx swallowed. “I... This is priceless, I cannot accept this.”

“You can any you will, Makti-oir Nyx of Clan Ulric,” Athina asserted firmly. “We already dyed and painted the silk. It's finished and cannot be changed now. Not to wear it would mean wasting all our effort.”

An uncomfortable pressure rose in his chest as he again stared at the piece of painted silk. Both members of Clan Sarcina waited patiently as he visibly fought with himself. He was not worthy of this. But maybe, Nyx thought as his fingers followed the knotted lines depicting the coeurl, maybe, if he worked hard enough, he would one day be.

“All right,” he managed to say around the lump in his throat. “For hearth and home.”

“For hearth and home,” Athina echoed, face solemn.

“Come, you need to get dressed. You cannot go to the Lucian King in that,” Ethin sniffed and started to herd Nyx towards a folding screen.

“What's wrong with my uniform?” Nyx blinked.

“Politics, makti-oir. Politics,” Ethin explained sagely.

#ffxv #born into the wilds #nyx ulric #blue mage!nyx #worldbuilding #a whole lot of it #I can't control myself #galahdian culture #galahdian history #my fics #geist writes

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writingforjoy · 5 years

Text

A Worse Fate

Sorry this is late @alexprompts, but here’s my take on the ‘Burn it all’ prompt! I thought it’d be cool to make something like a small backstory/piece of history for (Im)Mortal.

TW FOR BLOOD AND BODY HORROR (maybe, i tried it though. not gonna lie)

Tell me, young one. What is a fate worse than death?

Abandonment? Becoming bedridden? Immortality?

Well, for this 26 year old mother, whose skin was as brown as a ripe cocoa bean, watching her and her kids freedom being snatched away was worse. Watching your loved one die fighting for what was right was worse. Watching your child being sold and taken away was far worse than death. Being raped and tortured by your slave owner was worse. . And how could any self-respecting mother let their children childhood and freedom be plucked away from them, like the sweet nectar from a freshly bloomed honeysuckle that the white men thrived on.

Enslavement. That’s a fate worse than death.

Outside her small home, Ellie Mae could hear the bloodhounds in the distance, and she could smell the scent of their masters close behind. She had been found.

She knew they were coming, that’s why she had called for her grandfather Guidry to come help them escape to the North, the Freedom Land. She had spent days preparing their bags, teaching her second son Elijah about his family, how to follow directions when given, how to properly use magic when his has awakened, and if need be, how to follow the North Star. She had hoped that she’d have more time to escape and meet Guidry, but now she couldn’t.

Ellie Mae gathered what little else she owned: the family spellbook that she made her own editions too, her bible, a dress to change into, and all the money she had left. She stuffed it all in her own bag, threw it on, and scurried over to Elijah and Emmery’s room. “Elijah, Elijah wake up. We have to go.” She shook him gently before pulling the covers off him and sitting him up herself. “Boy, I said wake up.”

Elijah’s head nodded a few times before his eyes fluttered open. “Mama...is it time to eat?” He asked sleepily. The room was dark, save for the light of the moon shining through the window. Elijah looked around the room, noticing the sleeping dove in her makeshift nest on the floor, then noticed that his mother was fully dressed even though it was still night. “Mama, is everything okay?”

“We gon go visit Grandpa Guidry early, baby. Gon and get dressed. Emmie,” Ellie walked over to the dove in the middle of the floor and stroked her back “Emmie baby, wake up. Let’s go exploring baby.”

Emmery was no heavy sleeper, the small bird-witch stretched her wings as she rose and walked out of her nest, cooing softly at her brother and mother before finally shifting back into her human form. “Is Daddy here yet?” She asked.

“Is Drusus coming with us?”

Drusus, Emmery’s father, was on his way over going to spend a few days with them while his owner allowed it, and secretly help them meet up with Guidry. “No, we gon meet him out in the field. Now hurry and get dressed y’all two. We ain’t got-”

The howls from the bloodhounds were getting louder and more excited the closer they got to the house, causing the nine and six year old to cling to Ellie. “M-mama, are those wolves?” Emmery asked timidly.

“No, baby, no. Them just some dumb old dogs bein’ nosey. Now quick, Elijah, get y’all bag I done told y’all to make yesterday.”

She hurried out of their room into the kitchen where the bowl hushpuppies were waiting on the table. Outside the window, Ellie could see specks of red getting closer and the shadow of the bloodhounds jumping around in her yard, just waiting for their masters next command. She poured them all into a towel, along with other food, and tied it up tightly before putting it in her bag. She had cooked at least a good two pounds worth of hushpuppies to give to any dogs that might find them and give away their location, surely that would be enough.

“Mama?” Ellie turned to see Elijah and Emmery standing together in the doorway. Emmery was trying her best to tie their bag around, and Elijah stood watching Ellie, his golden eyes almost glowing in the dark carried a worried look. “I can smell Papa’s scent comin’ this way. Is Papa gonna get us?”

Ellie, too, could smell the stench of tobacco drawing near. She had told Elijah about Henry, his birth father, some time ago, and how she left him when Elijah and Emmery was younger because Henry was mean and abusive towards her. Then later that in some places, people that looked like him would have people like her to work for no pay. What she didn’t tell him was that Henry was one of those people, that he had dozens of people ‘working’ for him, that those people like her were slaves, and that she was one of Henry’s slaves. She didn’t tell him that Henry had another son that would’ve been the same age as his older brother Ezekiel, but had died in a horrible accident. She couldn’t tell him that he was almost the spitting image of Henry’s late Elijah. “No, no he ain’t.” She walked over to help Emmery with her bag, then tied the food bag around Elijah’s shoulder. “I ain’t gon let him take ya from me, got it?” She be damned if he took another child from her. She grabbed their hands and lead them down into the basement, locking the door behind them. They walked in silence in the basement, stopping first at the window to make sure the coast was clear, then they stopped just in front of the door leading outside. “Elijah, remember what I told ya ‘bout Drusus and Guidry scents?”

“Yessum, Drusus smells like cinnamon and Guidry smells like sugar canes.”

Suddenly, something started scratching at the door. One scratch. Silence. Two more. Silence. Then the scratched repeated. Ellie could smell cinnamon wafting through from the outside. It was Drusus saying saying he was here, but danger was nearby and he couldn’t be in his human form. “Emmie, you remember what ya Daddy bird form is, dontcha?”

“Mm, a big hawk, Mama!”

“Mhm, that’s him doin that scratchin out there now.” She said quietly. She squatted down low enough to be face to face with them. “Now listen y’all. There some bad men outside that gon try and separate us just cause me and Emmie look different from you, Elijah. So when we get out there, we have to be very, very quiet and move quickly, okay? If they get us, Emmie, I want you to change into a dove and fly away with yo Daddy, me and Elij-”

The sound of a door breaking startled them, followed by heavy footsteps stomping around above them, knocking everything over and causing destruction in their home. “Find my boy and that nigger woman and bring them to me, if ya find the nigger child then you can keep her!”

Ellie was quickly running out of time, at this rate even if they do get out, it wasn’t going to take long for them to be found and separated. The bloodhounds was soon barking at the basement door, and someone started banging on it in an attempt to break it down. Something had to give, Ellie knew it, and she was more than happy to do whatever it took to make sure her kids stayed free.

“Elijah, tell Drusus that I’m gon buy y’all some time to escape, and not to come back no matter what happens, ya hear?”

Elijah’s eyes grew wide with fear at the thought of leaving Ellie. “But Mama-”

“Boy we ain’t got time just do it!” She pushed them towards the door, then gave Elijah her bag. “Y’all stay together, take care of each other, remember my rules, and do whatever Drusus and Guidry tells ya.”

She hugged them both tightly and gave them both a kiss before shoving them out the door and locking it. She pulled a small dagger out from her apron pocket, then made a deep cut in her palm as she made her way to the middle of the basement. She knelt down and used the blood from her hand to draw a protective pentagram around her, then added the sacrificial runes. Ellie took a deep breath, placed both hands on the pentagram, and whispered the spell she made and experimented with often, hoping that it’d work like she wants it.

Use my magic

Build a wall

Trap my victims

Kill them all

The more drained Ellie began to feel, the more the pentagram began to glow an eerie red, then small embers crawled out from it, and started dancing around her, waiting to see who she wanted their target to be. She focused on every bloodhound and person that had invaded her house, this was going to be the last house they ever broke in.

“Go get’em!” The basement door swung open and the bloodhounds ran down the steps and charged towards Ellie, but the tiny embers around her sprung to life and surrounded each of the hounds in a wall of fire, caging them in. Their barks soon turned to whimpers as the embers snaked their way around the hounds body and tore into their flesh.

She looked up to see three of the men surrounding the dogs and trying to save them, and watched as the embers caged them in as well, then wormed their way up their bodies, leaving a scorched trail as they did before digging their way under their skin. Bubbles appeared on their skin as it darkened each second their blood was boiled before they fell to the floor shaking violently.

Then two more men appeared at the top of the basement where the door once was, but Ellie kept whispering her spell, making it stronger. She was too far in to stop now, and she wasn’t going to stop with them. “Quick, shoot’er!” Henry shouted.

The other guy jumped down the stairs aiming his gun at Ellie and fired, but the bullet bounced off the barrier that Ellie made, then she sent a few embers towards him. She watched as it boxed him in, then the shower of ember needles slowly fell on him. All that was left was the two of them and the house.

Henry descended the stairs, his eyes locked with Ellie. She could feel his hatred for her even from that small distance. She wasn’t going to let him leave the house alive, sure as hell wasn’t going to leave any kind of evidence either. Slowly the embers rolled away from her as she shifted her focus to the house. She was going to burn it all to the ground, with herself in it, to make sure that there’d be no way possible for anyone to find anything and try to trace her kids. A small sacrifice she was willing to make to ensure the safety of her kids. The only regrets that she’d have are not being able to see Emmery being able to control her shifting flawlessly, to see what beautiful magic Elijah would grow up to have, there was no doubt that he had some, he was her son after all. Most of all she wouldn’t be able to watch them grow. “Woman,” Henry growled “you’d rather sit here and die, than tell just give up and tell me where my boy is at? Dontcha know that I’ma find him anyway? Ima find him and that child of yours and sell her off just like yo other one! You gonna die in vain and go straight to hell where you belong!”

Ellie looked at him and laughed. She laughed long and hard. “Then darlin’,” She sent the embers after him, and watched as he squirmed about, trying to shake them off. “I’ll be sure to save ya a seat next to me.” She smiled.

Those regrets were small compared to the immense joy knowing that her kids are safe with Drusus and Guidry, knowing that they will be able to practice their magic freely and soon be able to harness it fully, that they’d be able to grow up together and live in a safer place among family. Her kids were going to be alright, they were going to be just fine.

She watched as he slumped over against the fiery wall, and she was finally free. She was a slave no more. Then she too fell over, the spell have taken its toll on her. She felt death was coming as the house started to fall in around her, the once small embers having turned to roaring flames, licking their way up and around the house, being sure to leave nothing behind. When death comes, she would welcome it’s freedom with open arms. To her, being a slave was a fate worse than death.

@orchidalienscribbler @rhikasa @morganwriteblr @wiseauthorowl

#writingforjoy #writeblr #(Im)Mortal #alexprompts #alexpromptsburnitall #history #fiction #at this point i honestly don't know what else to tag it as #but that spell #yes i was influenced by svtfoe #ending was a bit rushed #not gonna lie

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jacksonroseroth · 5 years

Text

The Viking Princess Chapter 1

A/N: So I may or may not have done a thing...About Bjorn’s Daughter? Shout out to @badwolf-in-the-impala for always helping me out! and to @captstefanbrandt who gave me enough renewed inspiration to churn out this first chapter! Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: None

Words: 4,085

Moodboard made by me, none of the pictures are mine

It was hard for Reisa to adjust to her family, as she was the last child born. All her cousins, and all three of her brothers, were 5-7 years older than her and had little interest in watching after the little princess. But being the only girl and Bjorn Ironside’s daughter made her quite famous among the Vikings in Scandinavia and among the Saxons in England. She’d grown up hearing the tales from her mother, Torvi, her father and uncles as well, about their family and, most importantly, her grandfather, Ragnar Lothbrok. The stories she was told made him seem like a god and she looked up to him for quite a long time.

From the time Ivar surrendered to his older brothers and Bjorn’s crowning as King of Kattegat, the town had grown, even more from its huge trading population and presence into a vast kingdom, overtaking many of King Harald’s earldoms. Angered at this accidental betrayal, King Harald began to wage war on the family, against the brothers who had bonded back together after Ivar’s collapse. Harald was taken by surprise to see the former king fighting against him, for his brothers, but it didn't shake his resolve to take back his lands, gain Kattegat, and finally become King of all Norway. With their only hope of sailing back to England and trying to persuade King Alfred into aiding them, Reisa’s world would become even harsher than she knew.

Clashes and clangs rang in Reisa’s ears as she watched her mother spar with her older brothers. As the only girl, Reisa was very protected by her parents and they hesitated at training her to be a shield maiden. Neither of them wanted to risk her life at battle, especially not when they were up against Harald, who desperately wanted to do whatever it took to win. Yet through the restrictions, Reisa was able to learn enough to know how to defend herself, but not much more. When she was younger, her brothers would secretly teach her a little more, that is, until they received their arm rings and started to train at Bjorn’s side.

“Reisa! Watch out!” Vali’s voice pierced her focus and turned just in time to duck a stray arrow heading for the middle of her face, with a soft yelp. Behind her, she heard the thud as the point found its mark; The wood post just beyond her head. Reisa sighed and glanced up before she stood, yanking the arrow out of the post and turning to him. Vali was Ivar’s son with his wife, Kitta, the second of three. She twirled the arrow in her hand and tried to hide a smirk as he approached. His lips spread into a smile and he chuckled once he reached her. “Are you going to give that back?”

“That all depends, Cousin,” Reisa said, moving the arrow, just out of his initial reach. “Were you aiming at me?”

“Of course not,” Vali said, reaching over her to snatch it away. Reisa chuckled and crossed her arms. Vali stuffed the arrow back into his quiver as he said, “Hakan made me miss. What are you doing down here anyway? You’re not training for at least another few days.”

“I can still come down and watch. You’re not the only one who likes to break the rules.” Reisa remarked, her smirk now showing. Vali chuckled and shifted, crossing his hands in front of him.

“And when do I break the rules?” He asked. Reisa shrugged and said, “I suppose, like last week, when you snuck off with that slave girl and stayed out all night.”

Vali blinked, not realizing someone had seen his little endeavor, but he tried to play it off. “And how would you know that?” He asked. Reisa snickered and gave his shoulder a shove as she walked past him and said, “Because I was up all night watching the stars with Floki.”

Vali sighed as he shook his head and gave a chuckle, turning to follow her. They carried on a short conversation before he left her, with a kiss on her cheek, and joined his brothers, Hakan and Keld, practicing their archery. When the Lothbroks trained, they trained within themselves; Ubbe trained his son, Dain, Hvitserk trained with his two boys, Steinar and Wyborn, while Bjorn trained with Erik and Refil. Torvi split her time between her sons with Bjorn and her son with Ubbe.

It was an odd relationship between Torvi, Bjorn, and Ubbe. During a brief falling out with Ubbe, she had a fling with Bjorn, once more falling pregnant, this time with Reisa. Ubbe never resented her for it, as he even had another child with another woman, the woman soon taking off with his son. To Torvi’s pleasant surprise, Ubbe never treated Reisa any different than the other Lothbrok grandchildren, in fact, he soon became something of a second father to her. During the fling, Bjorn was married to his wife and queen, Gunnhild. Bjorn was also relieved when Gunnhild held no ill will to her and treated her as a daughter as well.

“Reisa. What are you doing here?” Reisa turned, abandoning the conversation with Vali, as Ubbe came over, Dain following. Reisa sighed.

“I just wanted to watch. Mother trains me differently than Erik and Refil.” Reisa said.

“Yes. And you know why that is.” Ubbe said, sheathing his sword and grabbing a pitcher of ale. Dain handed his father a cup and Ubbe filled them both, taking a sip before speaking to her again. “Go back up to the hall, Reisa. I’ll send your mother up when she’s done with her training.”

Reisa’s face scrunched up, annoyed, as Ubbe turned to one of the warriors that approached and struck up a conversation with Dain. Ubbe joined, letting Reisa know the subject was dropped and she was to obey. With a sigh, she swished her skirts at Ubbe as she turned to walk back to the hall, stopping to chat with a few of the people.

Bjorn and his new wife, Gunnhild, were a beloved King and Queen among the people. As Ubbe became Reisa’s second father, Gunnhild became her second mother. Both Bjorn and Torvi were well beyond pleased that their spouses cared for their youngest and only daughter so. As Reisa made her way into the hall, she saw Gunnhild gathered around the fire with her slaves and maidens, no doubt telling the young girls the tales of battle she endured. While she got many such tales from her parents and her uncles, there was something about the way Gunnhild told her stories that fascinated Reisa.

“By the time me and my husband reached each other, we were surrounded by the enemy,” Gunnhild said as Reisa approached with a smirk. It was a story she heard many times and could almost recite it by heart.

“You and King Bjorn?” One of the younger slaves asked, completely enthralled by the story. Gunnhild smiled at her and shook her head.

“No. This was before I met Bjorn. My husband Jarl Olavsonn.” Gunnhild said.

“Where is he now?” Another slave asked. Reisa couldn’t remember her name, but she knew that this young slave was captured by the idea of romance and love, an idea Reisa chuckled at. It wasn’t that she didn't believe in it, more so that she didn't believe it would save her from the fate already decided by the gods.

“He died in battle. The way any Viking should greet Odin. In the halls of Valhalla.” Reisa said, drawing the girls’ attention to her. Gunnhild looked up at her and smiled.

“Exactly,” Gunnhild said with a soft chuckle. “Alright. Enough stories for now. You all have your chores. Go on.”

The young girls scattered; The slaves attending their duties while the maidens stuck together and left the hall, no doubt to go down to training and watch the men. Along with struggling to adjust to her own family, Reisa struggled to fit in with the other young women her age in Kattegat. At 19, many of the other young women were married, many of them with families. Due to both Bjorn and Torvi wanting to find a good marriage for the Princess of Kattegat and that Reisa never found a man worthy enough of herself, she remained unmarried and an unspoken outcast.

“Did they kick you out of training already?” Gunnhild teased with a smirk as Reisa sat next to her, by the fire. Reisa smirked.

“I wasn’t training. I was just watching.” Reisa said. “But, yes. Ubbe sent me back before Mother or Father saw me.”

Gunnhild chuckled and sat back as she sipped her ale. She watched her stepdaughter, studying her as she poked at the fire before beckoning a slave for some ale of her own. Gunnhild sat forward and set down her cup, turning to her.

“Reisa. Has your father spoken to you yet?” Gunnhild asked, prompting Reisa to turn to her, surprised.

“Spoken to me? About what?” She asked. Gunnhild smirked and let out a chuckle as she shook her head. Reisa shifted in her seat as Gunnhild muttered to herself, sitting back once more.

“Oh, Bjorn, Bjorn, Bjorn…” She chuckled. Gunnhild looked at her and said, “We’re preparing to sail west soon. To speak to King Alfred.”

“Yes. Well, I’ve heard that much from Hvitserk and Ivar.” Reisa’s lips curved into a smirk as she added, “They’re quite loud.”

Gunnhild laughed. “Yes. That they are.” She snickered. Gunnhild took a breath and took on a more serious look as she continued, “But has Bjorn or Torvi spoken to you about it? Has anyone?”

Reisa sat back with a small huff, scrunching up her face as she became slightly annoyed and confused. “Not directly. I’ve only heard the talk from my uncles.” She said. Gunnhild gave another sigh and Reisa sat forward, setting her cup down. “What are you not telling me, Gunnhild?”

Gunnhild gave her a look. Reisa knew the tone she was using was disrespectful to her, as queen, but Gunnhild let it slide, for the moment. She crossed her legs and pressed her fingertips together, pondering how to say her next words, watching the princess closely.

“We are in negotiations on who will be going,” Gunnhild said. Reisa tilted her head in confusion. Surely, her uncle would accompany her father and her mother while Gunhild, along with her aunts, would stay behind to tend to their duties and Gunnhild would rule in Bjorn’s absence.

“I...Don’t understand. Negotiations?” Reisa questioned. Gunnhild sighed and said, “Bjorn wants a small portion of the army to come with us, should we have a need for it, and to protect himself.”

Understandable. Reisa thought.

“I have always been at your father’s side. I am very faithful and loyal to my husbands. I would rather risk my life to save his than have him recklessly risk his life.” Gunnhild said. So it had been established that Gunnhild would accompany them. So far, it all made sense in Reisa’s mind, yet she was still puzzled at why there were ‘negotiations’ about those who would be going, as it was quite clear to Reisa. When Gunnhild opened her mouth to continue, Reisa sighed, annoyed at this point, and said, “What are you trying to tell me, Gunnhild?”

“Hmm.” Gunnhild pressed her lips into an amused smile then said, “Save Kitta and Hvitserk’s wife, Syrin, we all wish to go with Bjorn to Wessex. Including your mother, your brother and your cousins. The boys are all well of age and Bjorn and your uncles have agreed already.”

It took Reisa a moment, then it all made sense. She was to stay behind. All of her family; Her mother, her father, his brothers and their sons. Even Gunnhild! They would all journey to Wessex and leave her behind in the care of her aunts. It’s not that she hated her aunts; Kitta and Syrin were wonderful mothers and took care of Reisa just the same. But she’d never left Kattegat, not even to visit the neighboring earldoms, even when she came of age. And now, her father was going to flit off to the west, taking the entire family, most likely as a show of solidarity and slight intimidation, but he would leave her behind?

There was no doubt in Reisa’s mind that they would leave Kitta in charge, as she had once been queen of Kattegat and knew how to lead the people. But she would be damned to Hell if she was going to be left behind while literally her entire family sailed off to Wessex.

Reisa stood, staring down hard at Gunnhild, who was shocked by the movement. “And I’m to stay here as well?! Like a poor, defenseless princess who needs to be protected?!” She cried. Gunnhild held up a hand to calm her, but it only made her even more upset.

“Reisa, please. Sit down and let me-”

“No. I’m not going to be left behind. I’ve never asked Father to go with him when he went off with Erik and Refil. When Mother would take them places and leave me behind. Never once did I ask to join any hunting parties they went off on.” Reisa said. “I’m aware of why Father is going to Wessex and I’m aware that we are at war with King Harald. I’ll not be left out this time!”

“Reisa!” Gunnhild stood as Reisa made to walk away from the fire and to storm down to find Bjorn, no doubt, and stopped her. “Reisa, please. Let me finish.”

Reisa was surprised that Gunnhild had given a few chuckles as she tried to calm her. Gunnhild stood and went to her, taking her hands with a soft smile. She pushed a few stray strands of her dark hair that fell loose during her little fit.

“There has never been any talk of leaving you behind, Reisa,” Gunnhild said. “Bjorn wants you to come, though...Torvi does not.”

The remark came as a surprise to Reisa. She was Torvi’s only daughter and she had always raised her to be fierce and that she was every bit equal to her brothers and cousins, though she did want to protect her in the same breath.

“She doesn’t? Why not? I would think of anyone, Father wouldn’t want me to come along.” Reisa said. Gunnhild nodded and smirked, leading Reisa away from the fire and walking her out of the hall and down to the docks.

“My child, there are a great many things ahead of us that we all must prepare for,” Gunnhild said, linking their arms as they walked through town. “Not only will this be your first time leaving Kattegat, but it will be the first time anyone will see the only daughter of Bjorn Ironside, granddaughter of Ragnar Lothbrok. You will be the name on everyone’s tongue and many men will seek to have you. Not only as a wife…”

Reisa knew her meaning and chewed her lip. She knew there was always a risk of her being kidnapped and held for ransom or leverage against Bjorn. But it was one thing to be taken in Norway, her home. Among the earldoms that she could have escaped to. Going to Wessex was a different situation entirely. She’d heard the stories growing up. Not all the Saxons were fond of the Northmen and there was the possibility she could be taken while they were in Wessex.

“Don’t be afraid, Reisa. You will be one of the most protected people, even more than King Alfred. Your mother is simply worried for you. That’s not to say she will try to stop you, she knows she can’t.” Gunnhild said. At that, Reisa couldn’t help a smirk. Even if Torvi had told her she couldn’t come, Reisa would find a way to sneak onto one of the boats and be with her family to greet King Alfred.

“So, all the family is going?” Reisa asked. “Why are there negotiations?”

Gunnhild gave a sigh and opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted.

“Reisa. There you are.” The two women turned to see Torvi and Erik approaching them. Reisa smiled as her mother approached and embraced her, kissing her cheek. “Ubbe told me you were at training today.”

“Yes. I wanted to watch you train with Erik and Refil.” Reisa said. Torvi smiled and cupped her chin briefly.

“Ever my little warrior.” She teased. Reisa smiled as Torvi tucked her into her side. Torvi looked to Gunnhild and said, “Bjorn wanted to speak with you. He should be leaving his training soon.”

Gunnhild nodded and said, “Of course.” She gave Reisa a quick smile before leaving the trio. Torvi gave a soft sigh and turned to her daughter, giving her a smile as they started walking back to their house.

“Where is Refil?” Reisa asked.

“He is still with Bjorn. He wants to give him some extra training.” Torvi said. Reisa glanced at her and asked, “Extra training? Does he not already match Erik and Father in battle?”

“Mother,” Erik said in a low whisper. Reisa glanced at her brother as did Torvi and she cleared her throat.

“Well, yes, he does,” Torvi said, opening the door. Reisa sighed and followed her mother and brother inside.

“Then why does Refil need extra training?” Reisa asked as Torvi brought her over to the looms once her armor was off.

“Your father feels he could use it,” Torvi said. Reisa scrunched up her face, annoyed that her mother wasn’t telling her the truth.

“Because we will be traveling to Wessex soon?” Reisa asked. Torvi stopped in her motions, staring at the loom in shock. “Because Father believes that his sons should be ready in case there is a fight?”

Torvi looked at her and said, “Who told you we would be going to Wessex?”

“Well, I’ve heard Ivar and Hvitserk speaking of it. And Gunnhild told me today that-”

“Gunnhild.” Torvi sighed, annoyed. Torvi looked at her daughter and said, “What did she tell you?”

“She said there were negotiations about who would accompany Father and his brothers,” Reisa said, hesitantly. Torvi gave Reisa a look and said, “What else was said?”

“That was it.” Reisa lied. Torvi turned to her and crossed her arms.

“Reisa. What else did she say?” Torvi asked. Reisa sighed and dropped her hands from the loom that she worked at.

“She had made mention that you didn't want me to go…” Reisa said, glancing to Erik, who simply shook his head at his baby sister. Reisa chewed her lip and Torvi sighed and shook her head. “Mother, why wouldn’t you want me to go? I’ll be more than safe with all of you there.”

“Oh, my child…” Torvi said with a soft chuckle. She took Reisa’s hand and led her to the table, sitting her down. “I am not worried for your safety, Reisa. I know you will be well protected, the most protected, and no harm will befall you.”

“Then why do you not wish me to go?” Reisa asked. Torvi gave her a small smile and pushed back some of her dark hair and cupping her cheek.

“Reisa, there are things that will happen on this trip, whether you are there or not. And I would prefer to keep you from them until absolutely necessary.” Torvi said. Reisa blinked, confused.

“Mother, I don’t understand! What is going to happen?” Reisa asked. Torvi took a breath and opened her mouth to answer her daughter, when the door opened and Ubbe walked in, along with Dain.

“We’ll discuss it later,” Torvi said, standing and moving from her daughter.

“But, Mother-”

“Later, Reisa,” Torvi said, a bit more firm. Reisa sighed and slumped back in her chair as Dain joined her and Erik, Erik offering his younger brother a cup of ale as Dain set his axe on the table.

“You did well today, brother,” Erik said with a smirk as Dain gulped down the ale. Ubbe beamed and chuckled, patting his son on the back.

“Indeed, he did. Moving up in his skills, Erik. Sooner or later you all will face each other.” Ubbe said. “Bjorn needs to have the right men at his side.”

Erik smirked and sat back. “Well, the right men are his sons, after all.” He said. Dain shot a smirk right back to him and said, “We are brothers, are we not? Who says I can’t stand next to him?”

Erik’s laugh before he launched into a teasing bitch match with his half brother was the last thing Reisa heard before Torvi redirected her to the loom as Ubbe came over to her. He smiled at his wife and slid an arm around her as he kissed her slowly.

“How was your day, my love?” Ubbe asked, tugging her closer as they both chuckled.

“Very well. How was Dain’s training today?” Torvi asked, resting her hand on his chest. Ubbe sighed and released his wife as he pulled off his vest.

“Good. It was good. He’s quicker, I’ve noticed. Much more calculating in his attacks.” Ubbe said. He smirked and looked at Torvi as he removed the leather bracers around his wrists and said, “I wonder where he gets it from?”

Torvi gave him a look as a smirk spread across Ubbe’s face while he chuckled. Torvi glanced at Reisa, making sure her attention was on the loom, before turning back to Ubbe and speaking in hushed tones. “We need to talk about Wessex,” she said. Ubbe looked up at her as he sat down and gave a sigh.

“What about Wessex?” He asked. While Reisa was focused on the loom in front of her, that didn't mean her ears stopped working. The moment she heard her mother mention Wessex, she was listening, intently.

“I am worried, Ubbe. She’s not ready for something like this.” Torvi said.

“Torvi. She’s old enough to-”

“I don’t care how old she is, Ubbe.” Torvi hissed, glancing at her sons then her daughter. She sighed and lowered her voice, even more, causing Reisa to strain to listen. “This isn’t right. I need to know you will be on my side when I speak with Bjorn.”

Ubbe shook his head and let his head fall back, with a soft groan. “My love,” He started, lifting his head back up to look at her. “Bjorn is King. She’s as much his daughter as she is yours. He won’t back down.”

“There are other ways to do this. Ones that do not involve my daughter and the Saxons.” Torvi said. “For Odin’s sake, Ubbe, they still think us of their faith! Can you imagine what they’ll do to her?”

“You don’t know what will happen, Torvi,” Ubbe said. “Please, my love, you must yield to Bjorn on this matter. And besides, do you really think he wouldn’t ask Reisa first before agreeing to anything?”

“He’s already agreed, Ubbe. Why else are we going to Wessex?!” She whisper shouted. Ubbe sighed and shook his head.

“Torvi, if you insist on bringing this up to him, I will side with you,” Ubbe said, looking to her and taking her hands. “But he is King. What decisions he makes stand…”

Ubbe paused a moment and let go of her hands, turning to the table as he said, “He’s also my brother.”

“Oh, you all and that fucking excuse!” Torvi hissed. “That didn't mean shit when you two turned against Ivar and Hvitserk, why does it mean something now?”

“Because we’ve grown from it, Torvi. We’ve realized the mistake in forsaking our family.” Ubbe said, his voice getting a little rougher. For the first time since they started speaking, Reisa looked at them, watching. She’d heard them have their fights before and knew one was brewing. Ubbe looked up at Torvi and said, “If you are that worried for her, you may speak to Alfred yourself about her. There isn’t much else that can be done.”

Torvi sighed and shook her head, abandoning the conversation and stalking to the fire, stoking it and hauling a pot over it. The moment Torvi stormed away, the boys stopped laughing and drinking to watch their mother, then looking down the table to Ubbe. Ubbe watched his wife for a moment longer before he looked to the boys and shook his head, reaching for the ale and pouring himself a generous cup.

Hope you guys liked it! Feel free to drop a comment! If you want to be tagged in future fics/chapters, let me know! I’ll add you to the list!

@tephi101 @shieldmaiden25 @titty-teetee @captstefanbrandt @ivarslittlebadgirl @hail-kattegat @badwolf-in-the-impala @tgrrose @irishhiggins @i-war-s-boner @readsalot73 @thisisparadisemylove @capitanostella @noaor @somethingdawn @lol-haha-joke @meganjudee @tinypuppysoul @lovelydreamer-2000 @littlepanda-love @moondustmemories @imconfused28 @ivaraddict @kinzykittty @filthy-lil-thing @unicornbaby741 @thedevil-of-monterrey @chinduda @nomzcandi @ever-darkening @darling-nymph @franzi201070 @colie87 @derzauberermitlilabademantel

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jujuoh · 5 years

Text

I never actually posted the little story behind the demon/priest flareshipping thing did I? I was just gonna type out something short and quick but the details got away from me. tl;dr seto becomes a priest to look for mokuba, summons atem for help and accidentally summons yugi too. the nun garbs are easier to hide the horns, tails, and wings under while they help him.

It’s like, not quite modern day, just far enough ago that travelling from Japan to Europe would generally be done by boat and land bc there were no planes.

circa 1875 CE, Japan, Meiji Restoration

Seto and Mokuba still get sent to an orphanage, and Mokuba gets adopted by a visiting Englishman without Seto, who tells him to go with and that he promises to find him, because it would be a better life than staying in the orphanage.

Seto almost ages out of the system when some travelling missionaries happen to come through town, but secretly they’re actually demon hunters/exorcists on a mission (though of course every country has their own ways of dealing with demons, sometimes if the demons are foreign, they need foreign magic to help stop them. In this instance, a coastal city in Japan was having issues with Scottish kelpies of all things. Wherever they went, they teamed up with the local demon hunters as well). The group stopped by the orphanage both to keep up appearances but also scout for talent, and catch wind of a really smart, stubborn kid named Seto who sounds like a perfect apprentice.

Seto agrees to go with them because they can promise to take him to Europe where he can search for his little brother. He finds out later about the demon hunter thing but doesn’t believe them, until he watches them do their job - unless a demon wants to be seen, it can’t be, unless you force-reveal or see it with magic of some sort. The power (both magical and influential), the control, and the ability to help people (though he won’t admit it) attracts him and he eagerly begins learning. Though he tends to feel like if the person is a douchebag they deserve their demon problem (his guardians try to teach it out of him to varying degrees of success)

It takes ages to get to Europe, and they do missions (from angels, messages from the vatican, towns they pass where there are problems they can solve, a few memorable times from other demons), and teach him along the way - surprisingly about many different religions, not just catholicism, as well as many different languages which he picks up quickly. The lessons about different demons and magic and curses were the most interesting: different places in the world have different supernatural beings, matching up with the different religious stories and mythology, and so of course they needed different magicks and tactics to defeat, release, or otherwise overcome. They attempted regular schooling too but Seto was already at or above their levels, so instead they taught him everything they knew. They taught him how to sew and weave, how to shoe a horse, fix a boat, cook, clean, among various other things.

circa 1880 CE, Europe, second industrial revolution

Thus, the whole trip takes quite a while. Seto is twenty by the time they actually make it to Europe, and while the time taken frustrates him, he knows it was safer and cheaper to do it this way, rather than try to get the money by himself and travel alone. That, and all the magic he would’ve never known.

Once he’s there, he travels along with them for a bit, trying to find leads to the family that has his little brother, but once they need to be sent out to different countries and continents again, he begins to travel alone. Sometimes he spends up to nearly a few months in one place, taking care of a big problem.

On his own, Seto learns that demons themselves are much more complex than he was originally taught - in terms of individuality, motivations, social hierarchy, and ven morality. He meets demons better than most people, and people worse than most demons. Some spirits are just mischievous, and people lie about how much damage they’ve done. He ends up capturing demons sometimes in order to study or interview them before banishing them or letting them go. He rarely actually destroys any unless they’re particularly bad. He also gets closer to some of the angelic messengers, and decides all angels are mildly to viciously annoying, especially the one named Joseph and his friend Tristan.

Eventually he gets frustrated with his total lack of progress and commits a taboo - he summons a demon himself. The book of spells he borrows from a local boy - Japanese like himself but raised here in England. He has white hair and claims to be a psychic, the ghost of his little sister following him around the occultish store, stocked by things his father brings back from travels that can’t go into the museum. Seto knows better by now than to doubt him.

He accidentally summons two. He refuses to place the blame on himself for not calculating things perfectly, and calls it a fluke of magic.

circa 1300 BCE, Egypt, middle New Kingdom

Atem had been a prince in Egypt, destined to be a greater pharaoh (and a greater man) than his father, but his traitorous uncle killed him on the eve of his coronation, just after the mourning period for his father was over. The magic interacted with his own, and with the artifact he wore, and with whatever divine influence the gods deemed to throw his way, and instead of going through the trails of the afterlife to enter the duat and be reborn again, he became a being of shadows and magic itself. Little did the uncle know that he would fall and be torn down by another boy wanting revenge just the next day.

It took Atem a long time to come to terms with what happened, and even longer to learn how to use and control his powers. By the time he could return to his home, too much time had gone by. Everywhere he went people spoke as the sea people spoke, foreign rulers by the name of Ptolemy sat on the throne, temples and statues were decimated or else reclaimed by these others in place of their original deities. Everyone and everything he’d known and loved were long gone. Upset, he travelled the worlds above and below. As is his nature, when he found something unjust, he did his best to set things right. As is his new nature, he judged by luring the accused into games to test their hearts.

He stays mostly solitary for nearly 3000 years - not entirely by his own choice, but by circumstance. He’s old and powerful and appeared out of nowhere, and other beings of all kinds are wary of him. Until he comes upon a sweet, hurting boy named Yugi who asks to be his friend.

circa 1820 CE, Japan, near the end of the Edo period

Yugi is very smart, and very small, and very nice. His niceness often gets taken advantage of, and his size makes it easy to pick on him. If he fought back, maybe they’d leave him alone, but he hates hurting anyone. His grandfather, a merchant, always tries to convince Yugi to stand up for himself. Yugi doesn’t listen. He gets sadder and more reclusive by the year, until he barely looks anyone in the eyes anymore, even his own mother as she helps bandage him up from the latest “game” that horrible group of older kids “played” with him.

In an effort to cheer up his grandson, Sugoroku gives him a golden puzzle from a far away land. He’d been hoping to make big money off it, but they were well-enough off as is, and his grandson’s happiness mattered more than some extra coins in his pocket. He’d known the puzzle was difficult, but it takes even Yugi years to complete it. Years of suffering, and growing, and learning. His grandfather worries. Yugi is of course interested in taking over Sugoroku’s business, and already assists him greatly, but without being able to stand up for himself the boy will have trouble in the world. He worries as well about revealing the truth to Yugi - the truth that Sugoroku is himself a demon, and so his son, and so is Yugi, though to a much lesser extent since Yugi’s mother is human.

When Yugi completes the puzzle, it immediately summons a disoriented and shocked Atem to his side. Cue screaming and yelling from both of them, a rather hilarious scene of Yugi chucking the puzzle at Atem’s head reflexively before hiding behind an upturned table. Atem, freaked out by what just happened, also takes cover behind a screen. He’d never been summoned like THAT before, it felt completely different to a summoning circle or a prayer or anything else, and certainly never by someone who immediately started screaming at him.

Tentatively, after the dust settles, Yugi peeks out from behind the table. Atem hears him shifting and peaks out as well. More silence. Yugi tries to come to terms that he’s summoned what appears to be a demon. Atem tries to come to terms with how cute the screaming young man is. Yugi clears his throat and offers a shaky greeting. Atem falls in love.

Eventually they end up in the middle of the cleaned up room, sitting on the floor, having a somewhat stilted conversation. Atem fiddles with the puzzle - what was once his magical artifact - sitting on his lap. There had been no contract, no promise, no injustice to either force or encourage Atem to stay, but he couldn’t find it in himself to leave. By the time it was dark outside, the two of them were laughing together, munching on the snacks Yugi had made while preparing dinner for his grandfather and mother, who were on their way back home from a day trip to the big markets. The knife Yugi’s using to chop the vegetables slips and slices open the base of his thumb, and while it’s not deep the pain surprises him. Atem automatically reaches out to gasp the injured appendage. This is the first time they’ve touched.

The sheer power released by Atem touching Yugi’s hand awakened Yugi’s latent demonic side, and it takes Atem a while to calm him down. The new little horns, and long ears, and wings, and tail... it was a lot to take in. Sugoroku and Ayame come home to find a delicious dinner and two demons waiting for them. It doesn’t bother them nearly as much as Yugi thought, and he finally learns the truth from his sheepish grandfather. Ayame is annoyed he’d stopped from from trying to tell him sooner, because now look what happened, you silly old man.

Atem, regardless of his feelings, didn’t want to tie the young demon down to such an old and feared one like himself, and intended to leave as soon as he knew Yugi was in good hands. But, he can’t just let Sugoroku teach him - even for a demon, he was quite old in body while Atem remained young (another thing people found terrifying, for just how much power did Atem have to appear naturally young after 3000 years?), so he stayed and helped train Yugi. Yugi did everything he could to impress Atem, not even realising his own feelings for a good while; once he did, he redoubled his efforts and became even more mischievous and flirty. Eventually, Atem couldn’t take it any longer and confessed, and they were bonded.

Seto was only trying to summon an ancient demon by the name of Atem, a solver of puzzles and bringer of justice, both to help him look for Mokuba using demonic magic and to possibly learn from him. Seto also gets Atem’s equally tiny boyfriend, Yugi, who is not even nearly ancient but quite older than Seto, a fact that irks him greatly as they’re both shorter than he was at age 12.

But, they’re both so, so clever. And so, so... hard to resist. He wants to hate it, wants to believe they’re magically influencing him somehow, but he’s too confident in his abilities to believe it.

Seto enters a joint contract with them (though Yugi was willing to help even without one, but it has it’s benefits). Together, they hunt down particularly nasty pests and find major leads to Mokuba. And fall in love, of course.

#This is way longer than I meant it to be lmao #oops #flareshipping #demon au #ygo

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winryofresembool · 6 years

Text

EdWin one-shot: A Food Fight (of sorts)

Summary: Ed and Winry are preparing to move in together a bit before their wedding, but of course things don’t go like planned. (could be canon ‘verse or whatever universe you want!)

A/N: my part of the fic-art trade with @mavistuffz! I was planning to finish this way earlier but sometimes life and writer’s block happens :/ Either way, I really hope you’ll enjoy this! It’s probably not quite what you had in mind, but hey, it’s EdWin, so that’s the main thing, right? :’) Let me know what you think!

Words: 2900+ (hey, at least it’s p long?)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: swearing and some sexual implications, I guess (nothing bad tho)

Ed and Winry had only one month left till their wedding, and that meant a lot needed to be done before the big day. The quests had been invited, dresses and suits bought, the venue and the theme colors chosen (to Ed’s surprise, Winry had even allowed a little bit of black in the decorations because it had been his wish), but that didn’t mean they were anywhere near done.

Perhaps one of the biggest tasks they needed to do before the wedding was moving into their own house. It had been decided they’d move to Rush Valley after returning their honeymoon, which meant their new home needed to be organized before the wedding. That only added pressure for the bride and groom who had been stressed even before the moving.

They had found a nice small place near Garfiel’s, something Winry was happy about despite her teacher’s playful accusations that one day she’d open her own automail shop and steal all his customers. While Winry was dreaming about opening her own shop at some point, she had a secret she had only told Ed so far, a secret that would affect her professional career quite a bit. That’s why she was perfectly happy to work with Garfiel until she was financially stable to start her own business. Ed would still continue doing his research, and he had also received an interesting offer from General Mustang. He had suggested Ed become an alchemy teacher in a nearby university that had been opened recently. The young man had been a bit reluctant, reminding Roy he couldn’t even perform alchemy anymore, but afterwards he had told Winry he might consider it. That way he could spread important information that could help them avoid the misuse of alchemy in the future.

The couple finished carrying the last pieces of furniture (Winry only carrying light clothes boxes because of her condition) and decided to take a breather before starting to organize the smaller objects into their shelves. They had decided to start with the kitchenware because they were planning to spend the night in their new home and cook something for their helpers, Al, Garfiel and Paninya.

“Whew, I thought we’d never get it finished,” Ed swept sweat from his forehead and took a couple of steps back to see the final results of his work.

“Can you believe it? Our first home together,” Winry marveled as she watched the view from the kitchen.

Ed walked right behind her and wrapped his arms around her belly. “Well, technically we have been living together for quite a while now…”

“You know what I mean,” Winry remarked. “This isn’t my granny’s place, this is yours, mine and the baby’s.”

When Winry said the last word, Ed’s hand automatically sought the still non-existent bump and rubbed it lightly through her shirt.

“Do you think she will be angry?” Ed asked worriedly.

“About the baby? She’ll probably say something like ‘you damn kids start way too early these days’ and then congratulate us. I’m pretty sure she and my grandfather weren’t married yet when they had my father…”

“The old hag is something else,” Ed snorted. “Remember what Dominic told us about her?”

“Hey, this is my granny we are talking about! Please have some respect, she let you live under her roof!” Winry reminded him and slapped his hands away from her belly.

“And while there, I also got her granddaughter pregnant,” Ed laughed and earned an elbow on his ribcage.

“Ouch!”

“Sometimes I don’t know what I see in you.” Winry shook her head and turned to stare at her fiancé judgingly.

“That’s too bad because I do recall you promising to give 85 per cent of your life to me.” Ed smirked at her smugly, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I might still change my mind about that, Mr. Elric.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t, future Mrs. Elric.”

“Oh, about the name…” Winry seemed to taste the word with her tongue, “how would you feel if I changed my last name to Rockbell-Elric instead?”

“That sounds good to me.” Ed nodded. “I know you are proud to be a Rockbell.”

“I am. But I’m also glad you have your mother’s last name because Rockbell-Hohenheim would be a monster to say.”

“I won’t disagree with you on that. Anyway, should we start organizing the kitchen?” Ed asked. “The others might come any minute now…”

“Sure thing. I’ll carry the dry foods here, you can set them where they belong.”

The work progressed rather peacefully, until…

“What?” Winry yelled suddenly. “The chocolate doesn’t need to be in the ice box! Why would you put it in there anyway? I was planning to eat it soon because the Truth knows I’m in need of something with a lot of sugar and fat right now.”

“Oh, here we go with the cravings…” Ed mumbled under his breath, but unfortunately for him, Winry heard him.

“Excuse you, mister, I would like to see you carry a child for 9 months and see how much chocolate you want to eat!”

“Relax, Winry, I didn’t mean… I was just going to put it in there because it’s hot outside and you really don’t want it to melt, do you?”

“Fine, then… just don’t make that mistake again!”

“I won’t!” Ed promised quickly, knowing it was dangerous to fight with Winry right now.

The couple continued to fill the shelves and closets, but it wasn’t calm for long.

“Did you… did you buy blue cheese even though you know how much I hate it?” Ed nearly screamed when he opened the ice box again. “It’s even grosser than the milk it’s been made of! It has fucking mold on it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I try to remember that the next time we go do some grocery shopping. The same way you hopefully remember to not buy pickles! Even the smell of those things makes me throw up, Edward!”

“You never told me that!” he claimed. “Of course I wouldn’t have bought them if I had known!”

It was a half-truth; now that he thought of it, Winry might have mentioned something about pickles earlier, but he hadn’t remembered. If he had, there was no way he would have bought them.

“I most certainly did!” Winry argued. “Do you remember when I got sick the other day after seeing your sandwich? It was because it had pickles on it. And I remember clearly saying: ‘don’t ever eat those again near me’! You just never listen!”

“I do listen! It’s just, when you go ‘don’t do this, don’t do that’ all day, every day, some things are just easy to forget!”

“You know what, Edward? Fuck you. I really really don’t know why I’m gonna have a wedding with you in a month.” “Winry! I’m sor…”

Ed didn’t get to finish his apology before Winry marched out of the room, slamming the door angrily behind her.

“Oh, great,” Ed growled to himself. “I screwed it up again. Just when we were supposed to move in here too…”

Ed didn’t get to fume alone for a long while, because Al and Paninya chose that moment to return from their break.

“Why do you look so murderous? Not that you don’t always look a little bit scary, but isn’t this supposed to be a happy day?” Al asked, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

“If there was a moment when I wished I’d be able to hit myself, that would be now,” Ed stated, making the other two glance at each other with confusion.

“OK?” Al tried to get his brother to elaborate a bit.

“I got her mad again,” Ed said after a while. “And in the worst possible moment too. I know she’s been particularly sensitive lately, yet I couldn’t stop in time…”

“What do you mean when you say she’s been particularly sensitive lately? Is there any specific reason for that?” Paninya had become good at reading other people’s emotions and she could sense Ed was hiding something from her. He turned away from the other two, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I… uh… you guys weren’t supposed to know yet… she wanted to tell you herself. Oh man, she’s really gonna kill me when she finds out…”

“Brother? Could you please talk like a normal human being? I don’t understand a word you said.”

“I shouldn’t tell you!” he tried one more time, even though he knew he had already lost this battle.

“Wait a second…” Paninya had a moment of realization. “You said she’s been sensitive lately… she’s been spending a lot of time in the toilet, and… you guys didn’t tell us what you are going to do with that spare room… She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

“I… Fine… Yes, she is.” Ed stuttered, seeing it was too late to deny it anymore.

“Way to go, guys!” Pan exclaimed and smacked Ed on his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Although, I admit I didn’t think you’d have it in you. Usually you blush when she’s simply in the same room with you. I gotta talk to her as soon as possible! But you, mister,” she pointed at Ed, “You need to talk to her first. I remember hearing something about a stupid argument earlier, and I won’t let you get away with it that easily. Go make it right. That’s what she’d tell me if I was in your situation.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ed sighed. “Why does it have to be so damn hard, though? Hey, Al?” Al hadn’t gotten a chance to say anything yet, he was just standing there, looking dumbfounded.

“You’re having… a baby? I’m… gonna become an uncle?”

“Yes,” Ed said carefully, scared of an explosion even though he should have known Al would never react like that.

“That’s… that’s so amazing, brother! I’m so happy for you!” the younger brother suddenly exclaimed and rushed to hug Ed.

“Take it easy, Al,” he tried to calm him down, although he was secretly very happy and relieved about his reaction. “I can’t breathe!”

When Al finally let go of him, he got an idea.

“Hey, before I go to talk to her… There’s something we could do.”

Ed dragged Al to a grocery store, and when they got to one of Ed’s favorite sections, he asked:

“Which flavor do you think she’d like? Nuts? Salt? Berries? Just regular?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to know that?” Al asked back. “You’re the one who’s gonna get married to her.”

“Shut up, Al. Oh, look! There are even skeleton shaped ones! These are so cool!”

“Edward,” Al said with a warning tone, “remember that you are buying them for her, not for you. She would not like that.”

“Fine. What would you suggest then?”

“I say you should try to make them special. Something she can’t buy from this store. Hey,” he pointed at one shelf, “there are molds there! Look at this, don’t you think she’d like this?”

After buying the products for preparing the special gift, Ed and Al told Paninya to go and distract Winry while they’d be working in the kitchen. She was still sulking upstairs, and the boys didn’t want her to come down before they were finished with their work. Paninya agreed after hearing the brothers’ plan and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, stopping to knock the door.

“Who is it? Ed, if it’s you, I swear to Truth I’m in no mood to…”

“No, it’s me, Pan.” The dark-haired young woman said calmly.

“I guess come in then,” Winry replied. Paninya wondered if she had heard a bit of disappointment in her voice.

“I heard what happened,” she said. “You know, I don’t usually defend your idiot of a boyfriend, but he really is sorry.”

“If you came here to talk for him…”

“No, I came here because you’re my friend and of course I’m worried about you.”

“OK.” Winry calmed down and sat down on the bed, folding her arms on her lap.

“Uh, please don’t get mad,” Pan said after trying to decide how to tell her the news, “but… he accidentally revealed your secret. Or rather, I guessed it when he said some weird things.”

“Oh great. That idiot. I really didn’t want you to find out that way,” Winry sighed, understanding Paninya must have talked about her pregnancy. “I was supposed to tell you soon…”

“It doesn’t matter, Winry! I’m happy for you, I really am! It’s just, you guys seem to get into a fight over smallest things, and what if… what if it gets out of control and one of you says something you can’t fix?”

“Trust me, that thought has crossed my mind a few times. But don’t worry, at the end of the day, we still love each other. He may be an idiot, but… he’s still my idiot. And besides,” Winry blushed fiercely, “afterwards, making up is always fun.”

“That’s too much information, Win!”

“OK, OK, sorry. But it’s not just the sex, he’s always super sweet and thoughtful after a fight. Sometimes he cooks something good, and once he even let me use his favorite leather jacket… You know how he loves that thing.”

“Wow. Sounds like you have him totally wrapped around your finger.”

“Even though I hate to admit it at the moment, he does that same to me,” Winry’s face got even redder. “There’s a reason why I’m marrying him, after all. But what is taking him this long?” She suddenly got worried. “Usually he comes to find me a lot faster…”

“He’s… busy doing something.” Paninya said carefully, not wanting to reveal the secret Ed was preparing.

“OK. He’d better do it fast, though,” Winry complained. “I’m getting really hungry here.”

“You have already forgiven him, though, haven’t you?”

“When you are fighting with him as much as I am, you kinda have to learn to do it fast.” Winry smiled.

“You seem to enjoy the fighting, am I right?”

“I guess you are. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone who never challenges me.”

“Aww. Then you are definitely marrying the right person.”

“Hey! Only I have the right to insult him!” Winry exclaimed, pretending to be angry, but soon burst into laughter.

The girls changed the subject and started talking about baby related things, like the baby’s sex and name suggestions. At some point Al peeked into the bedroom and told Paninya Ed and he were ready.

“Where are you taking me?” Winry tried to pry when Al came in and tied a scarf around her head, so she couldn’t see what was happening around her.

“It’s a surprise. That’s why there’s a blindfold,” Al said and spun Winry around a couple of times so she wouldn’t be able to figure out their direction too easily.

“I don’t like surprises,” Winry tried to protest but followed Al when he dragged her forward.

“Are we there yet?” she asked impatiently when her future brother-in-law seemed to take her in and out of a lot of rooms.

“Soon, Winry, soon.”

They stepped into a room that had been empty before the fight because the couple had agreed that they still had plenty of time to organize it. When Al took the scarf off from Winry’s face, she didn’t recognize the space at first. There was a chest of drawers for the baby’s clothes Pinako had given for the couple (not knowing they’d be using it for this purpose, however), a shelf for toys and other things (a surprisingly cute dragon plush already sitting there), a table for changing the diapers, and…

“A crib?” Winry asked aloud when she saw the object she didn’t remember seeing earlier. “When did you have time to get this?”

“Just a little while ago… You know, Al helped a bit…” Ed said, referring to his alchemy. “But I added some things of my own in there. And I would have added more but Al didn’t let me.” Al rolled his eyes at his brother, knowing he had wanted to make the crib black and add some spikes and gargoyles here and there. He’d have to hide Ed’s drawing from Winry…

Winry pulled the blanket on the crib away and saw a huge bowl in there. And the bowl was full of…

“Chocolate wrenches!”

“If you want to throw me with them… go ahead.”

“No way!” Winry said and took one chocolate wrench into her hand excitedly. “I’m going to eat this right away!”

As she munched happily, Ed said: “I’m sorry about earlier. I know this moving in and the wedding and now the baby too have been stressing you… I shouldn’t be the one to add you even more stress. And I promise to listen to you more often now. By the way, I threw all the pickles away too.”

“That’s good. I shouldn’t have nagged you about the chocolate either. And you don’t have to eat the blue cheese if you don’t want to.”

“You know I don’t,” Ed snorted and went to hug his soon-to-be-wife.

“We’re a pair of idiots, aren’t we?” Winry murmured when she snuggled her head against his shoulder.

“I guess we are. Hey, we’re not skipping our favorite part of making up, though?” he whispered, trying to make sure Al and Paninya weren’t hearing.

“You give me some real food first, and we’ll see what happens after that,” Winry said with amusement, intertwining their fingers.

“It’s a deal.”

A/N: In case you missed it, I drew a picture of Ed’s version of the crib. Check it out!

#edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #my fics #fullmetal alchemist #mavistuffz

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years

Text

voyage to norfolk

set about a year and a half after msiv.

They drive to Norfolk in the late days of September, Mulder and Scully and their infant daughter and their grown son. Jackson is eighteen, a legal adult. He's staying in the spare room that they've slowly began converting to his. He restarted his junior year of high school a few weeks ago. Lily is nine months, expected to start walking any day now. She giggles and kicks her legs like a swimmer in her car seat, chews on one of her toys joyfully. She loves being in the car. (“Just like her dad,” Scully has said on occasion. It makes Jackson uncomfortable and he can't explain why. Maybe he doesn't want them to start listing traits he's inherited from them, even though he could make that list, easily.)

Jackson, Mulder, and Scully rotate between the driver's seat even though it's only a three hour drive. Jackson drives with a carefulness that surprises them, he can tell. (Mulder says it's because he inherited his driving skills instead of Scully. Scully privately thinks that it's because of Lily, and she would be right. He is overly careful when he spends time with his sister because he can't bear the thought of hurting anyone else. He's damaged too many people to do anything to this kid.) Mostly, Jackson just likes to drive. There's a peacefulness to being behind the wheel that he enjoys. Mulder usually sits up front with him, bickering companionably with him or offering unasked-for stories about cryptids he's encountered in the area that Jackson secretly loves. Scully sits in the backseat most of the time, quiet, playing with the baby, but he knows she is listening, enjoys listening. She bickers companionably with Mulder, too, as Jackson suspects they will someday bicker with the kid. They seem to be a companionable bickering type. (Mulder loves to bicker with him, but Scully treads carefully, an unshed habit except for when it's things like school or eating healthy or leaving for days and not calling. She seems to feel guilty about more.)

When they drive past the coast, Jackson is filled with a certain nostalgia. He misses the beach, he misses home, he misses his parents. He drives past the ocean with a lump building in his throat. Let me give you the tour, he thinks bitingly, flipping on his turn signal. Here's where my grandfather tried to kill me and here's where he sent the men to kill my parents. Here's where I caused a car crash just because to see if I could. And here is where my girlfriends almost killed each other because of me. He doesn't know why he wanted to come back here.

They go to the cemetery first. Jackson parks at the edge of the bright green lawn, pauses for a moment in the front seat with his hands clenched around the wheel. He can't do this. He hasn't seen his parents since last Christmas, freezing and shivering in the graveyard as rain pounded the ground and tears dripped down his face. He hadn't worn a coat and he tried to hear his mother's scolding in the back of his head. When Sarah had broken up with him and Bri hadn't ever texted back, he hadn't been able to ask anyone to come and check on their graves. He could've asked his old friends, he supposes, and some of them probably would've come, but it was somehow harder to face them than Bri or Sarah. (Not that it would've been any easier to face them. He was a fucking idiot, here in Norfolk, and now he guesses it's time to be a fucking idiot in Farrs Corner. But a different kind. The normal kind. One that doesn't leave anyone dead.)

“Want us to go with you?” Mulder asks gently from beside him, and it's only then that Jackson realizes that he hasn't moved in several long minutes. Hands gripping the wheel too hard.

Scully is watching from the back, Lily fussing against her shoulder. “We'd be glad to,” she offers.

Jackson shakes his head, his jaw tight. “No,” he says. Bringing them there would be like a betrayal, he thinks. Like spitting on their graves.

He climbs out of the car, pausing only to retrieve the bouquets of flowers from the trunk. He's halfway towards the plot where his parents are buried when he turns around, coming back to the car. He doesn't know why he wants to do this, but for whatever reason, he does. He doesn't want to go alone and if he can't ask Mulder and Scully to go with him, maybe he can ask something else. He opens the backseat and asks Scully in a low voice, “Can I take her?” Some part of him inside, some younger part who used to be excited for his parents to meet his friends, to see the two worlds meet, wants them to meet his sister. He can't explain it, but he does. And taking the kid, even if she'll have no idea what's going on, is better than going alone.

Scully hesitates for only a minute, brief surprise flickering over her face, before nodding and lifting Lily out of the seat. Jackson takes her in the crook of one arm, juggling her between the bouquets. Lily giggles, tugging on Jackson's overlong hair in a soggy fist. He grimaces affectionately at the kid; time for a haircut, probably. He bounces Lily once on his hip. And then he sets off again, the roses (his dad's favorite, what he always gave his mom on their anniversary) tickling his nose and the kid yanking alternately on his hair or earlobe like she's on an amusement park ride and feels she needs to hold on.

At their graves (the words loom large in his mind, like they're bolded and capitalized; he can't get away from them), he mutters in the baby's ear, “These are my parents, Lils. I'm visiting my other mom and dad.” Only, a part of his mind insists; it feels traitorous to acknowledge Mulder and Scully as the other. They gave him up, gave up their rights to that. But. They love him, and Lils, and he is the kid's brother. Unquestionably. He has been the kid's brother since he held her for the first time, since he sensed her presence in the back of his mind, the most trusting that anyone has ever been around him, and he'd thought, I need to make sure that what happened to me never happens to her. He can't be her brother and not be Mulder and Scully's son, even if he will never be the son they want him to be. And Mulder and Scully love Lils and him both. They've given him a bedroom, food, clothes, a life. Despite everything that's happened, all the lying and the seizures and the faked deaths and the manipulations. So. They are the other parents. He has no choice.

He feels the need to crouch on the ground before his parents’ graves and beg forgiveness.

He sets Lily on the ground and kneels by his parents gravestones, lying the roses on the ground. Presses his palm against one of them, traces his mother's name with his thumb. “I'm sorry, Mom,” he whispers. “Dad. I'm so, so sorry.” He's said that every time he's come here, and it still isn't enough. Maybe he'll still be saying it twenty years from now.

Lily gurgles cheerfully, yanking up grass in her fists. Jackson wipes tears from his face. He wants to curl up between their graves, the way he used to lie between them in bed when he was little. He wants to be small again, if only because they'd still be alive.

He sits down on the grass, cross-legged, and stays with his parents for a few minutes. He doesn't talk because he doesn't know what to say, but he thinks that might be okay. They'd always been okay with sitting in silence. He hopes they understand.

When he is ready to leave, he scoops up Lily and whispers to his parents, “I'm safe. I'm okay. I miss you so much. I'm sorry.” The most vulnerable he'll let himself be. He wipes his face again.

“Gaaaaah,” says Lily, very seriously, like a little mini Scully. She's got that stern look in her face, the icy blue eyes that manage to be warm and steely all at the same time; it's kind of creepy. But the kid's Mini Scully Impression still seems sincere, somehow, like she's trying to express her care. Jackson waves goodbye to his parents before walking back to the car, letting the kid grip his t-shirt and smear it with grass stains all the way there.

Mulder and Scully are waiting outside, watching him carefully. They've knocked down most of the awkward walls and bounds between them (they even ground him now, go fucking figure, isn't he supposed to be an adult at this age?), but this is an area they all tread carefully around. The subject of his Other Parents. The only ones he's ever known.

When he suggested this trip, they'd both agreed without question. Don't want to cross that line, or maybe they wanted a real family vacation, no matter how fucked up. Whatever the reason, they're here now.

Mulder lifts Lily out of Jackson's arms instinctively, watching him carefully. Lily presses her tiny hands to his face and says, “Ahhh-guh-guh.”

“Yes,” Jackson replies, deadpan. He's remembering when he was five and he begged and pleaded for a little brother or sister. They'd tried to adopt a little girl but it'd fallen through. He wonders if it would've been like this. “Ahhh-guh-guh, Lils. Very observant.”

“You okay, Jackson?” Scully asks, a hand going to his back. “I know this has to be hard for you.”

“Yeah, I'm…” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm fine,” he says, but his voice cracks. He looks down at the ground, tears blurring his eyes. They buried his grandmother in this graveyard. He never thought they'd…

Scully steps forward like she can hear his thoughts—and that's right, she can—and wraps her arms around him. He doesn't wriggle away like he might have a year ago. He lets her hug him. He might hug her back. Mulder reaches out with his Lily-free hand and squeezes his shoulder.

As of yesterday, it's been two years since his parents died. Two years since Scully stood over his not-dead body and tearfully apologized to him again and again. They've come a long way since then.

---

He wonders sometimes if his parents would disapprove of what he's doing now. Living with his birth parents after everything that happened, everything he did. He would've gone somewhere else but there was nowhere else to go. He didn't have other relatives, anyone else to live with. He likes to think they'd want him to be safe, no matter who it's with, but his birth parents were the subject of several arguments, several tension-filled moments between the three of them. He wonders if they'd be upset, him living almost constantly with his birth parents and a new baby sister. His chest stings at the thought of it. He never wants to disappoint them again. They died because of him, it was his fault.

But that night in the hotel, lying in the room that he has to himself (that's Mulder and Scully catering to him, or maybe one grumpy kid is enough) and listening to Lily wail through the wall, he dimly remembers a conversation he had with his mom once. At six, he'd been angry and sullen, demanding to know why his birth parents had given them up, storming around his room and kicking toes over in a prepubescent rage. “Well, maybe they couldn't take care of you,” his mom had said gently. “And they knew that you would've had a much better life with us than with them.”

He'd pouted, flopping down on the couch with his arms crossed. “Then they must be pretty bad people then,” he said angrily. “If they couldn't have taken care of me.”

His mom went quiet, uncertain. She sat down beside him and pulled him onto her lap. “Baby, they must’ve been pretty good people if they could make you.”

Jackson swallows, rolling onto his side. He doesn't know what to say, how to apologize. But he has to believe that they'd be okay with it. He has to. His parents would want him to be safe and secure and happy, wouldn't they. And he doesn't know if he is that. Happy. But he likes to think he will be, someday. When he gets some space. When he starts over. And it's not as if it's a fleeting emotion—there are times when he's been sort of happy, with his new friends he's made in Farrs Corner at the job he'd insisted on getting or prowling the woods with the dog or at the dinner table with Mulder and Scully and the kid, when he finds himself reflexively laughing and realizes that he isn't trying to care about these people. (He doesn't have to try. It's hard, sometimes, but it isn't forced. Not anymore.)

In the morning, he goes down for breakfast and finds Mulder and Scully at a table, Scully with a plate of fruit and a bowl of oatmeal, Mulder eating a sticky hotel lobby waffle. Lily is dozing fitfully on his shoulder with a pacifier drooping from her mouth. “Hi, Jackson,” says Scully. “How'd you sleep?”

“Fine,” he says, sitting down across from them and resisting the urge to add, Better than you; he may not have actively heard Lily crying half the night, but he can sense the exhaustion emnating from all three of them. “Hi, Mulder,” he adds. “Hi, kiddo.”

Lily blinks sleepily at him, as grouchy as he's seen Scully on any given morning after a late night at the hospital. “Lils is a little grouchy this morning,” Mulder says affectionately, cupping the back of her head. (Surprisingly chipper for a guy who barely slept. “Insomniacs fare better with a new baby,” Scully had said tensely over a cup of coffee about six months ago. “Too bad Mulder wasn't around when you were a baby.”) “Meanwhile, your mother's headed that way. Those new kids Skinner assigned to the X-Files are stuck on a case, and they want our expertise.”

Scully's already rolling her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee; Headed? Jackson hears against his skull, prickly and annoyed, but more good-natured than six months ago. She reaches up to where Lily is and lets the baby curl her hand around her finger. “What case, Mulder?” she says in the soft voice she reserves for when The Baby Is Sleeping. “There is no case. They're stuck because there is nothing to find.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows, settling into his chair. He's heard this argument before and knows how to chime in. “Okay, fine,” he says. “What is it? I'll give my input and help you out.”

Mulder—usually the receiver of Jackson's inevitable support—grins. Scully mutters something about not knowing how much actual help he provides. So more or less a normal breakfast.

---

Jackson takes Mulder, Scully, and Lils to a restaurant that he describes fondly, remembers fondly. He'd spent half of his afternoons here, the night after he went to prom with Bri and her friends, dinner after dinner with his parents. He tells them a story of having his seventh birthday party here, laughing so hard that soda spills all over his shirt as he describes one of his friends trying to start a food fight with handfuls of his birthday cake. Mulder and Scully listen, Scully bouncing Lils on her knee. Jackson can tell that this is a little hard for them to hear, but they pretend well, listen attentively. They do care; they've asked him about the missing years a lot, want to know about him. He's been the same way, asking more and more questions as the months stretched on. He wanted to know her better, he'd told her two years ago. And now he does.

Across the restaurant, Mulder nudges Scully and points out someone that looks like Brianna. (They're probably trying to be subtle, but it doesn't work; Jackson doesn't know how Mulder managed to hide out for six years without getting caught.) Bri is watching them with a strange look on her face, like she might want to come over and talk to Jackson. Jackson pretends not to see her. It's been two years and he likes to think he's matured a little (even if not much). Lily smears Scully's food all over her face when she's not looking, and Jackson laughs as hard as anyone.

He takes them to the old playground he remembers from his childhood and pushes Lils on the baby swings. He goes to his old schools and looks around, tries to remember being a kid again. Mulder and Scully go with them, their eyes starry like they are trying to imagine themselves in this life. They go to his house, where someone else is living now, and he is unable to go to the door and knock. He wonders how many people in this town still think he is a murderer.

Mulder tousles his hair before wrapping his arm around Jackson's skinny shoulders. Scully holds Lily with one arm, but her other hand is on his wrist. They stand together for a moment and look at the house. The lights are off, no car in the driveway, but Jackson won't break in. He wants to, but he won't.

They go to the beach, a private spot that he loves. Mulder has inflatable water wings on Lily even though Scully won't let him take her any further than the shoreline. Jackson wades in up to his ankles, lets the saltwater lap over his feet. Behind him, he can hear Lily's laughter, can feel her happiness in the back of his mind. He smiles thinly. He hopes Lils will have a happy life, a good childhood. Better than him. And he thinks Mulder and Scully will be able to give her that. After all, there's no

Scully steps up beside him, her face turned towards the horizon. “You know we grew up on the coast too, right?” she says, her hand raised up to her eyes to shield it from the sun. Her hair is whipped wildly around her face in the wind. “Mulder in Martha's Vineyard. Me in San Diego.”

“Yeah, I think you mentioned that,” Jackson says. The wind is mussing his hair too, blowing it tangly. He really needs a haircut. He'll mention it sometime next week.

Scully smiles dimly, wiping her hands on her shirt. “I enjoyed seeing where you grew up,” she says, and means it; he knows she wants to know the kind of life he had without her. “It's a beautiful town.”

He swallows. He knows this trip couldn't have been easy, especially considering everything they'd gone through in Norfolk. “It is, yeah,” he says. He swallows again, his mouth dry. “I kind of… miss this place sometimes,” he says, and means something else. His parents’ graves on the bright green lawn. Maybe he'll come back at Christmas again. Maybe he'll call his friends tonight and see if they want to go out tonight. (But not to his old hangouts, the Chimera or the sugar factory; those are forever ruined.)

Scully rubs his back, the two of them looking to the horizon. “I know,” she says softly. And she does. The three of them, Mulder and Scully and him, understand loss better than anything. It's a shared language, one that he hopes Lils will not have to learn for a long, long time.

They don't turn until they hear Mulder's panicked, “Lily!” and the kid's delighted squeals. Jackson whirls, stumbling on the sand, in time to see Lily stumbling away from the water where she'd been balancing holding onto Mulder's hand. She takes a few wobbly steps before landing on the sand on her hands and knees. Mulder swoops in and scoops her up as if to comfort her, but the kid is laughing with delight. Scully is at their side in a second, kissing the top of Lily's head, an arm wrapped around Mulder's waist.

Jackson smirks; that kid knows exactly how to get everyone's attention. She's already spotted him over her (their) mother's shoulder. She waves her arms wildly as if motioning him over, giving him an insistent look. The feeling she's transmitting has no actual words, but if it did, it'd probably be something like, Get the hell over here, asshole, this is my moment.

Jackson goes, the waves crashing over his feet as he joins his sister and his other parents on the beach.

#i dunno what this is it just kind happened #but i wanted to write something about jackson so i did #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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littlemisssquiggles · 6 years

Text

Whit-ty Headcanons: Whitley’s Geist.

@parrot-with-a-mohawk reblogged your post and added:

I really like this musing, especially the Diamond in the Rough theory and also the one where he secretly manipulates Jacques himself. From what I’ve heard, Whitley was based of a book character named Artemis Fowl (don’t remember the book’s name though), who was very cunning, and he was using this trait in order to manipulate fairies, for a good purpose(don’t remember what it was though). He also had an ill mother or something, who didn’t remember who he was, and Artemis was very detached from her, but, towards the end, he became closer to her, as her illness healed(?)(don’t clearly remember this part). So, as you said, I would really love to see Whitley join the Rosebuds, and, might I add, form a trio of guts(Ruby), voice of reason(Oscar) and brains(Whitley).

I also have to correct you on a little something. The Summons are creatures that the Schnees who possess the Glyphs semblance have defeated in battle. This is why Weiss cand summon the giant suit of armour, that, according to the manga, was just a normal giant suit of armou which was possessed by a Geist, and also that Boarbatusk, that she defeated in Volume 1, that one time, during Port’s class. And I don’t think that Whitley has ever fought someone phisicaly, nevermind a Grimm. Imigine him though, once part of the trio, tring to fight one of those “ocasional small Grimm” that Oscar mentioned. That would be kind of funny.

Also, that is just my opinion, but I think that Whitley’s charm stands in his smarts and cunningness. It would be cool to see him support the main team from behind a desk, rather than together with them on the front lines, or, maybe, with a metaphorical utility belt, Batman style or by making plans and strategies for them to use. But this is just my opinion and I’m sorry if I seemed rude in some way.

Squiggles Answers:

@parrot-with-a-mohawk Eh? Rude? Whaddaya talking about? No rudeness detected RWBY fam. I see where you’re coming from so it’s cool m’dude.

I’m glad you enjoyed my Whitley musing so thank you for the compliments =) You’re not the only person to tell me that Whitley was based off of Artemis Fowl. Ironically enough, I’d heard of the character from before and I even own the first book in the series. Granted, I never finished the book but at least I know the character.

Did you see my RWBY remark about Team ROWZ? If Whitley were to form a team with Ruby and Oscar and the trio are then joined by Zwei, that’s what their team name would be...or at least, that’s how I see it XD

By the way, I actually do know that the Summons are the creatures that the Schnees with the Glyph semblance had defeated in combat. In my original draft of this musing, I’d included a point painting a scenario where perhaps Whitley was attacked by a Geist Grimm during his sisters’ absence and him defeating the beast was as a result of him unexpectedly unlocking his semblance in the heat of battle in order to protect himself.

I didn’t include this hunch in the final draft but that’s how I saw the tie in with my theory about Whitley’s summon being a Geist.

Imagine...one night, Whitley is left alone inside the Schnee Manor. His parents had gone out for the night on their own endeavours and Whitley is left to himself with only Klein around in case he needed anything. Perhaps this is a night where Whitley decides to entertain himself by practicing his pianist skills.

In V4, it was hinted that Whitley might know how to play the piano. We never actually witnessed him doing so, which was a wasted opportunity however his picture is hung up inside the music room inside the mansion.

So the implication is there. It’s sad. I wish they had taken advantage of Whitley’s own musical talents. If Whitley does know how to play then I wish we’d gotten a scene of him helping Weiss with her recital.

It would’ve been an amazing brother and sister bonding moment if Weiss is there singing her sweet swan song as Whitley’s fingers danced across the keyboard in coordination with his sister; casting their collaborated melodic spell over the audience. If only; am I right?

Anyways, just as Whitley is getting into the song, he hears a sudden strange noise from outside in music room. At first the young boy ignores the noise but when it became too prominent, he was forced to vacate in order to investigate it. Whitley’s search for the source of the disturbance brought him outside the house in the garden. He calls for Klein, thinking it may be the chubby man just tending to the bushes. No answer and it is at this point, Whitley was growing annoyed.

Long story short, Whitley finds Klein passed out in the gardens after being attacked by a Geist Grimm. In all the stories he’s heard of the Grimm, this is Whitley’s first encounter with one. With all his boosting about the benefits of the Atlesian Army, he never dreamt that he’d ever need to protect himself against a Grimm on his own, much less meet one in the flesh.

For the first time in his life, Whitley’s mind blanked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even breath. He had no means of protecting himself and with Klein passed out before him and everyone else in the manor gone, he was alone. No one was going to come to his aid.

He thought...of his sisters. Let’s say, when the Schnee siblings were younger---back in the days when there were good moments that displayed all three siblings actually caring about each other, Weiss and Winter were both protective of Whitley. Particularly Weiss.

Whenever he fell down, got a boo-boo or even just had a bad dream, his big sister Weiss was always there for him to be his comforter. Yeah, yeah, I know this sounds very uncharacteristic for Weiss and her relationship with her brother but let me have this one, alright?

I just need a reason---a deep, significant reason for Whitley to think of both of his sisters, or maybe just Weiss while being attacked by a Grimm---the thought resonating with such force that it’s enough for Whitley to unconsciously call out for Weiss to protect him...all the while awakening something else within him he didn’t know was there.

When Klein finally came to, he awakens to discover Whitley huddled in a corner of the garden, his breathing frantic as his body did its best to contain his fear. As Klein swiftly ran to the boy’s age, he arrived just in time to witness the Geist from earlier wither away. The infernal red eye of its cryptic mask imprinting a lasting effect in Whitley’s mind as it disappeared from his sight. Klein did not know what to make of this scene. He tried asking Whitley to explain what had happened after he’d passed out---how he managed to defeat the Geist on his own.

Instead of giving him an answer, Whitley silenced his erratic breathing and turned the question on Klein, asking him if he was alright. Once Klein confirmed that he wasn’t injured in any way, Whitley withdrew an unsteady sigh of relief before getting to his feet.

Shakily, Whitley left the garden and returned to the quiet solitude of the music room without another word to Klein. Even when the man returned shortly later with some refreshments for the young heir, the young Schnee said nothing more to him even as he stared him down in concern. Finally, then and there, Whitley gave Klein an answer but, not the one he was hoping for. Whitley told Klein to not speak of this moment to his father. He made some other point about discussing increasing security in the household to his father but beyond that, it became clear to Klein that Whitley was adamant on not discussing his feelings on the ‘grimm incident’ any further or at all for the future for that matter.

So with nod of understanding, Klein bowed himself out of the room; leaving Whitley to himself once more.

Taking a long swig from the warm beverage Klein had brought to him; Whitley returned his attention to the piano. With his fingers to the keys, he gave a strong intro to his chosen musical piece only to miss a note and stop abruptly again.

Whitley clutched his head, grimacing as the face of the beast---the Geist flashed across his mind. Why? He was used to putting things far out of his mind. Jacques Schnee had properly schooled him on the importance of that. Yet...why did that creature still...haunt him? What was that strange...power he display earlier? Where did it come from? Why did he have it? And more importantly, what did that mean for Whitley then?

In spite of the pressing questions swarming his mind, Whitley couldn’t think of any logical reasons as to why this was happening him. Nor...did he care to entertain the thought much further.

So for the third time, Whitley returned to the keyboard and started playing. And for the remainder of the night, he kept on playing, allowing the music to drown away any fear left following the encounter...even as the Beast’s watchful eye continued to scrutinize him from within the chained chambers of his mind.

That’s how I’d like to see it. Just a theory but an interesting one to think about, right?

I understand your point about Whitley’s charm being in his wit and to some extent, I agree with you in that regard. I just wanted to toy with the idea of...what if...he does have powers like his sisters? I can’t picture Whitley becoming a huntsman anytime soon but I do love the idea of him joining the team on the field from to time. Not often but whenever his skills are required. Even rocking a weapon of his own.

I like the idea of Whitley inheriting Nicholas Schnee’s weapon of choice from when he was a huntsman.

Like perhaps...Nicholas left his old weapon to his one and only grandson and that’s the weapon Whitley prefers to use in combat, if anything. I like the idea of Whitley sharing a bond with his grandfather.

Wouldn’t it be really cute if Whitley shares commonality with his grandson? It wouldn’t surprise me if Nicholas Schnee was the kind of guy who was only able to bare girls as his heirs. And while he loved his daughters dearly as his pride and joy, he also secretly wished for a son which would explain why he was so quick to pass the company to Jacques Schnee instead of his own daughter. So I figured Nicholas might harbour a bit of biasness towards Whitley as he’s his only grandson. Sure he loves Weiss and Winter too but it’s different with Whitley because perhaps Nicholas may share a deeper connection with his grandson. Perhaps Whitley looks a lot like his grandfather at that age---scrawny limbs and Big Bird legs and all.

And just like Whitley, Nicholas was very smart and cunning too which is why he was able to achieve his accomplishments as the original Founder of Schnee Dust Company.

I really like the idea of Whitley being like grandfather and perhaps, with a bit more guidance from the right people, he can be as good a person his grandfather was. Again, just another idea to toss out to the FNDM.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2018)

#squiggle answers #rwby theories #whitley schnee #whitley and weiss #rwby remarks #squiggles answers: rwby #whitty headcanons

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