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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Leave No One Behind

Chapter 15- Leave No One Behind...

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: The magic thing about home is that it feel good to leave, and it feels even better to come back…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings: Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 8k

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 14

It was way past dinner time when Ari and Hannah got back to the resort. Fortunately, most of the guests had already called it a night and only a few remained on the beach enjoying the clear starry night and gentle sea breeze. Some of the staff were busy cleaning and clearing the dining area and the kitchen, so Ari asked the team to gather in the reception area as simply put, they had no time to waste.

The team shared concerned glances as Ari, with Hannah's help and assistance at some points, briefed them on the plan. He paced back and forth only stopping to check everyone was following him, and once he had finished explaining and everyone confirmed they had understood what they had to do, it was all systems go.

They needed to wait until all the guests were in bed and not a voice could be heard in the resort before they moved the refugees. Ari knew it cut their window of time down even more and, though it wasn't an ideal situation, he was painfully aware that they couldn't afford getting caught. It had already been hard enough for them to keep more than four hundred people away from suspicious ears and prying eyes and by rushing things he could blow all their hard work. But, ever true to his own nature, he was getting more nervous by the minute, his anxiety heightened by the fact that there was nothing he could do but wait.

He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray on his office desk as his eyes roamed the room and took a deep breath, his fingers running through his hair. He needed to focus on what he had to do. The worrying about their safety and that of the refugees they had to smuggle from the country would have to be done later. Right now it was urgent that they got everything ready to abandon the resort in such a way that when Ahmed undoubtedly came looking once more, it appeared they’d done a flit due to a sudden “entrepreneurial vision” rather than it being a matter of "life or death".

The team were running around as sneaky and stealthily as possible, destroying anything that was too incriminating. Lighting a big fire to burn everything to ashes was not an option, the smoke would alert too many people and they also couldn’t waste the time it would require to ensure that everything burnt sufficiently in the small bonfire they occasionally had on the beach. Burying all incriminating evidence was out of the question- it was risky and sloppy too since no matter how deep you dug down on a sandy beach, it would eventually come back to the surface again. In the end, Max saved the day by using one of his suitcases as an improvised treasure chest into which they crammed everything they needed to dispose of. Jake and Sammy then added some extra heavy rocks which made sure it sank when they threw it overboard from one of their diving boats a fair way away from the shore.

Meanwhile, Hannah headed to her and Ari's hut to sweep the place. She was well aware she didn’t have the time or room to take anything that she couldn't put in her pockets or in Ari's small knapsack. She was going through the drawers on her bedside table when she found a stack of Polaroids, most of which dated from two years before when Sammy got her the camera. They were too incriminating to leave behind and, from a selfish point of view, she didn't want to leave them either.

She looked around as she stuck the set of polaroids in the back pocket of her jeans. As she took the now so familiar hut in for the last time, she felt a lump in her throat and her right hand instinctively flew to her firefly pendant. The last few years of her life passed in front of her eyes in a whirlwind. She had known from the moment Ari had set foot in the clinic that morning that it would mean a turning point in her day to day life, his presence around her always did, but what she had never suspected in a million years was the extent in which her life would change.

If someone had told her that day at the clinic, that she would embark on a secret mission to a dangerous African country with the man who had broken her heart all those years before, she would have told them to fuck off. But here she was two years later, about to leave that dangerous country and unofficially engaged to that very same man.

Her Lobo.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath and had turned to leave the room when in the corner of her eye she spotted a photo stuck to the mirror that she had very nearly missed. She headed over to grab it looking down at the image of her, Ari and Simon on the beach. She smiled fondly at the memory of that day. Simon had been sick with food poisoning the previous night and they had spent almost all afternoon on the beach with him, trying to stop him eating anything he could steal from the kitchen, or rather to prevent Max from feeding him contraband…

And then it dawned on her, she was going to have to leave Simon behind.

Hannah felt a pang in her heart at the mere thought of it. Her throat suddenly felt like it was closing and tears began to well in her eyes. Simon had been her first support. Even when she hadn't had Ari, she had Simon. The dog had found her when she needed him the most and he had been her shadow ever since. It broke her heart to think what would happen to him when they were gone.

She wiped her face as she tried to rationalise it. She knew Simon had survived many years before her, but he now was her baby, and she couldn't help but worry. With a sniff, she took a deep breath, and blinked back more tears as she told herself she needed to be realistic. She was wasting time, and they had important stuff to do. So, with a final swallow, she hastily put the polaroid in her pocket, together with the other ones and headed out onto the beach without so much as a glance back at the hut.

When she got to the reception area, she found Ari there, checking through a filing cabinet. He looked up when he heard footsteps and smiled softly at her, but his smile slid into a frown almost instantly, as he could clearly see she had been crying. Hannah couldn't trust herself to speak, she knew her voice would break the moment Ari asked what was wrong, so she simply nodded and handed him the polaroids to put in his bag.

"Come here." Ari told her once his hands were free again, pulling her to him and holding her tight. "You've been crying, firefly." He whispered in her hair. But Hannah just sniffed in response. "I promise you I'm going to get us home safely, Han."

"But not Simon." She whispered and at her words she felt Ari's shoulders slump slightly.

"Yeah, I know." Ari sighed. "I don't want to leave him either but, well, the staff all love him. We'll leave him in the kitchen with food and water and they'll take care of him, sweetheart."

Hannah nodded. "I know..." and then her voice trailed off and she started crying again. She knew Ari was right but it was not like the staff could write to them back home telling them Simon was doing okay, sending them the occasional photo of the dog.

Ari tightened his hold of her and started rubbing her back in an attempt to sooth her grief a little bit and at that point there was a voice in the doorway. Hannah pulled away, hastily wiping her face.

"Sorry, but, we got one of the women in the huts and she doesn’t look great Hannah, I don’t know if it's nerves or something…" Rachel explained, almost apologetically.

"Yeah, I’ll erm, come now." Hannah nodded, before looking at Ari who gave her a soft smile.

Ari watched her go and sighed, taking a glance around before heading outside too. He found Max and told him to start loading up, there was no time to waste. As he watched Max nod and disappear behind the trucks and into the night, Ari remembered he had left his bag in the office by the reception desk. He headed back inside, grabbed it, and shut the office door behind him, knowing he wasn't going to open it again.

He made his way down the beach a little. More as a way of saying goodbye than to make sure there were no guests still around. But he knew it had been a mistake the moment he set his eyes on the star lit ocean surface and a wave of nostalgia hit him, crashing over his head like the very surf he was watching had done many times over the past few years.

Ari lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He was counting the minutes till he could finally leave the resort and that fucking country for good. But, at the same time there was something else there. A nagging, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that was fighting with his sense of duty and his survival instinct. As he stood there he suddenly realised that the feeling was sadness. He was sad to be leaving, and he knew why- because this was the last mission he would ever run.

And it had all been his.

Ari had spent most of his life as an agent following orders and running his bosses, mainly Ethan's, missions, and even though Ari Levinson was known for not sticking to plan and following his instincts when making last minute, even debatable, decisions, he still had to follow his superior guidelines and do as told, for the most part. But this one had been different. He had designed it from scratch, still amazed at how the idea had come to him. He had matured it and watched it grow into something worth selling to Ethan, Isaacs and eventually Weiss. Damn, he had even chosen and recruited the agents he wanted for the mission. Including her. Ari smiled fondly at the memory of his Firefly’s surprised face at the clinic that morning, "Fuck me." was the only thing she had been able to say when she saw him in that examination room.

Ari chuckled softly as he started his way back to the main building. Whilst it had been a while, he still remembered all the expletives Sammy had thrown at him that day too. And then he was pulled out from his memories by the sound of hushed but hectic voices at the front of the hotel as he approached.

He hurried round to find the team gathered near the trucks, loading them with the refugees. He stabbed his cigarette on the floor and started directing a few refugees himself until Max, Sammy and Hannah approached him.

"We've got a problem." A weary eyed Max announced. "There's no way we're all going to fit in the two trucks.”

"There's too many people." Hannah added.

Ari frowned. "Shit. Fuck!" He hissed, looking around frantically for a way out.

And then his eyes landed on the solution.

"Are you serious? A Sudanese tour bus?" Jake, who had spotted what Ari was looking at, asked in disbelief.

Max laughed softly, visibly amused at another of his boss tricks to save his neck again, and looked at Hannah who was grinning and shaking her head as she mused. “You little shit."

Ari looked at her, his brow raised, before his eyes flicked back to the refugees. Hundreds of them, but only a fraction of the amount they’d saved to date…

"Start loading them up. I gotta grab something." He suddenly ordered, as he turned to leave, pausing as Hannah caught his arm.

"Where are you going?" She enquired nervously. "Ari?"

"I'll be right back.” He assured her. “Get on the bus."

He didn't look back and ran inside. In a typical Ari Levinson fashion, he had just decided he wanted to take something with him, a reminder of their time and work there, a reminder of what exactly they had accomplished. He stood by the desk and reached up to the Satisfied Guest board which hung on the wall, removing the shells which bore the total number of refugees that had safely left the Sudan shore. Unhooking it from the wall, he walked back round the desk and paused to take a last look around, into the dining area.

Why was it so difficult to say goodbye?

His eyes then glanced towards the door at the back of the room which led to the kitchen and he signed, knowing what, or who was in there. He bit his lip, pondering for a few seconds, before he let out a groan. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t leave him.

“Ethan’s gonna kill me,” he muttered as he ran to the kitchen door and jerked it open. “Come on, Si.” He whispered, panting slightly with exertion and the adrenaline now flooding his system. The dog looked up from where he had been napping. “Time to go, buddy.” Ari insisted.

Simon got to his feet, stretching as he yawned.

“Yeah, we’re on a schedule, come on.” Ari hurried the dog as he rolled his eyes. Simon simply stared up at him as he talked and wagged his tail, before trotting out of the door. Ari then bent down to pick him up under his spare arm and hurried towards the bus.

Rachel, who was in the driving seat, looked at him as he climbed up the steps, the painted wooden board under one arm, dog under the other. She snorted as he set Simon down on the floor and he simply shrugged and then smiled as Hannah’s little gasp hit his ears from where she was stood, a little further down the aisle of the bus. Simon scooted off towards her as Ari looked back at Rachel.

"Let's go"

Rachel nodded at Ari's instruction and, as she fired up the engine Hannah reached him, Simon in her arms, eyes full of tears. Sammy, who was sat behind Rachel and next to Kabede, looked up and noticed the dog for the first time and let out a groan.

´Fucking, fuck me."

Kabede turned to him, then to the dog, and then just looked ahead, utter confusion on his face.

“Ari, I…” Hannah began, her voice cracking a little as she cradled her precious pooch in her arms and Ari chuckled a little as he leaned down to give her a quick peck.

"Leave no dog behind."

Once they set off, the bus soon became quieter. No one spoke for a while. The silence only broken every now and then by Ari, who was navigating. Hannah was sat by him at the front row of seats, Simon perched on her lap, looking out of the window right at the front with perked ears.

Every so often, when he felt her squirm on her seat or heard her sigh, Ari would take Hannah's left hand, kissing over her ring finger, exactly where the big lavish ring he was going to buy her would sit. And every so often she would smile and look up at him, the pair of them sharing their happy little news, which remained between the two of them for the time being.

They had been driving for about an hour when Rachel shifted on her seat and Ari looked at her.

"Want me to take over?" He offered.

Rachel hesitated for a moment before asking. "How far we got?"

Ari checked Bowen's map again and then glanced at a passing old road sign before answering. "About eight more kilometers."

She shook her head just as Sammy, who had also spotted a road sign, demanded, “what is this place?"

"Carthago." Ari explained, raising his voice over the noise the bus engine was making. "It's an old British airfield."

"If it's still there." Hannah thought aloud, earning a glare from her brother

"What if it's not still there?" Sammy asked, his voice stern.

Ari took a deep breath and looked at Hannah, then to a dumbfounded Kabede and finally to Sammy who simply shook his head, giving a scoff. No one had an answer.

It was only ten more minutes till Rachel drove through the gates of the long time ago abandoned airfield, making part of it get stuck to the front of the bus. They drove a little distance more into it, with the gate stuck on the front of the bus bumping into every obstacle they found on their way.

Once they stopped, they all quickly climbed off the bus and Max darted up the watch tower. Jake located the power banks and ran up another tower to try and fire up the lights they needed.

Hannah and Rachel stood by the vehicles with the refugees, radio in hand as they watched Ari and Sammy head to the runway and start marking out the guide path with glow sticks, Simon jogging behind them.

They had been there for a few minutes when Hannah's radio cracked and she could hear Sammy talking to Ari.

"Not to state the obvious, but there’s a tree in the middle of the runway."

"When are they supposed to be here?" Max's voice suddenly broke through, just as the bulbs of the tower were brought back to life, flooding the runway with bright, white light. "I don't know, why?" Ari replied, panting as Hannah saw him look round, brushing his hair away from his face. "We have company. Nine kilometers away" Rachel and Hannah shared a worried glance, before Rachel took the radio and spoke. "Should we get them back on the trucks?"

"No, there's still time." Ari stated.

"What did he say?" Hannah asked Rachel, visibly annoyed. "Give me the radio." She snatched it from Rachel's hand. "Ari, stop being a reckless asshole. We need to get out of here." "He’ll be here any minute. We can do it, Han. Just trust me." She heard him say, and scoffed. She could see him still, activating the glow sticks, dropping them to the ground to guide the plane. The plane which should already be there if they wanted to make it before Ahmed’s soldiers, because they all knew too well it would be them approaching, got there.

"Come on, Walton, you motherfucker." Ari whispered as he continued with his task. "What do we do?" Sammy asked as he approached him, having finished his side of the path. Ari looked around worried before he groaned, they were rapidly running out of time.

“Shit, come on."

Both men started running back to the trucks. Ari could see Hannah pacing along the front of the vehicles as he approached, a tell-tale she was anxious and no doubt pissed at him.

"We should get everyone back on the bus and get the fuck out of here." Rachel looked at Ari as he drew up beside her, Sammy to his other side. "She’s right Ari. We’ll have to find another way." Hannah backed Rachel, her eyes pleading with Ari's, who looked at her, trying to think clearly about the best way to proceed. He didn’t want to give up, simply put he couldn’t give up, he had no other plan. "Okay, fine. Get everybody back inside again." Sammy stepped up, leaving no room for hesitation, making everyone start moving. But then Kabede cut in.

"No, wait. Listen. Listen." He urged.

They all paused, their ears straining, and through the quiet of the night came a soft, whooshing and rumbling sound- plane engines.

Everyone looked up at the dark night sky, Hannah gripping Ari’s arm. Simon, who was a short distance away sniffing the fence attached to the front of the bus, suddenly ran back towards them, barking at the noise. And, seconds later, they got their first glimpse of their ticket out of here as the plane suddenly light up in the dark sky above them.

Ari was now grinning ear to ear, and he glanced down at Hannah, relief flooding his system and hers, clearly, as she let out a loud breath. There was a shared feeling of contained excitement as the plane landed and Ari kissed Hannah's temple.

Not wasting a single second, they hurriedly headed over and started organising the refugees onto the cargo plane, Ari yelling a few instructions so that he could be heard over the deafening noise of the plane engines.

However all the relief they had felt upon the arrival of the plane was short lived. A couple of minutes after the first refugees had boarded, the marine pilot in charge of the operation turned to them and said there wasn't enough room for all of them on the plane and that barely half of them would fit in due to weight limitations.

"What the fuck?" Hannah snapped, breaking the shocked silence that had fallen over the group, her forehead creasing at the marine. "Are you serious?"

"If you leave us, we will die!" Kabede pleaded.

The marine looked at them and shook his head, and at that point, Ari’s temper snapped. He was done, and he was fucked if they had come this far only to be thwarted at the last minute. He was adamant they would leave no one behind, certainly not when it meant sentencing them to a certain death.

He lunged at the marine and grabbed his arm, pushing him a couple of steps towards the group "All right, then you decide, you decide who stays and who goes, 'cause I can't do it. You choose who lives, who dies." He spoke sternly, his eyes piercing the dumbfounded marine's, who hesitated as his own eyes roamed the group of people in front of him.

"They're three kilometers out." Max announced, as he appeared panting among the people.

"Better do it fast." Ari urged the marine, who still looked around hesitating.

"We're waiting." Hanna pressed, her arms folded.

The marine turned to look at her and then sighed dejectedly. "It's not that I don't want to, there's no room on the plane."

"Then we'll make room." Sammy declared as he strode up the ramp with determination. Hannah and Ari exchanged a glance but joined him, the three of them quick to start ripping out the seats, throwing them onto the runway. Soon after Max, Jake, Rachel and Bowen started making room as well while Kabede and the marine helped the refugees up the ramp.

And then, rounding the corner in the distance, they could see the lights of the approaching soldiers' trucks.

"Shit." Hannah hissed as she threw one more seat into the runway and Ari darted to up the plane cabin to alert the pilot to start moving the damn plane. For what felt like hours but wasn't more than a couple of minutes, it was a mad scramble to get everyone on, urgently hurrying up the ramp as quickly as they could. They had barely succeeded as the trucks were already speeding through the airfield gate, guns firing, when the plane started moving.

As the plane gathered pace down the runway, the gun shots pinging off the metal of the closing ramp, Ari, Sammy and Bowen made it upstairs to the cabin. As the huge tree in the middle of the runway loomed nearer and nearer, Ari felt his stomach start to drop like a stone.

“We're not gonna make it.” He whispered, “we're not gonna make it.”

“We're gonna make it.” Sammy’s voice was calm yet stern as the nose of the plane began to pull up into the air. But it wasn’t rising fast enough, they were going to hit it.

“We're not gonna make it!” This time, Ari’s comment was louder, frantic almost and Sammy’s voice rose in retaliation, as he repeated his earlier statement.

“We're gonna make it!”

As the plane began to gather more and more height, Ari winced and couldn’t help the loud yell that bust from his mouth as the plane flew straight into the foliage of the tree.

“Shit!” Sammy grabbed Ari, as they both ducked a little, expecting the branches to fly through the cockpit window.

But nothing. The plane steadied, and gathered height, nothing but dark sky in front of them.

Ari’s chest was heaving, as he clung to the side of the plane, shaking his head a little. He raised his head, looked at Sammy, and he couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. Sammy chuckled a little, tipping his head back.

Bowen patted Ari on the shoulder, “I think we can breathe now.” And with that, he headed down the stairs.

Barely daring to believe their luck, Ari took one last glance out of the front of the plane and nodded to the pilot before he followed Bowen and Sammy down into the cargo hold. As he started making his way amongst the sitting refugees towards where Hannah was sat, his throat and chest suddenly grew tight with the realisation of the magnitude of what they’d just done.

He’d never seen this side of their missions before. Once they set the refugees on the rafts with the Navy Seals, their involvement finished. He’d never experienced their quiet, hushed chatting, or seen their tired and anxious, yet relieved faces.

It was amazing, humbling and completely overwhelming.

As he picked his way carefully across the metal cargo hold floor, his eyes flicked to Jake and then Max, both men wiping at their eyes as they too were clearly feeling the emotion of the moment. He nodded to them both and finally reached his girl who was sat next to Kabede. Her own eyes were red, as was the tip of her nose from her tears.

Ari flopped down heavily besides her. For the first time he could recall, he felt old. He ached all over, and he was just so fucking tired. He let out a groan as he lifted his arm to allow Hannah to snuggle into him, rubbing gently at her back as she sniffed.

“Leave no one behind.” Kabede’s gentle voice spoke and Ari turned to look at him. “You're crazy, you know that?”

With a soft chuckle, Ari kissed Hannah’s head as she clung to him. His eyes strayed to Sammy, who was sat across from him, Rachel cuddled into his side. As Ari watched, she gently pressed a kiss to Sammy’s arm and Sammy met Ari’s smile and gave him a small nod back.

Ari shifted a little, and then felt something a little un-even in his back pocket. Reaching for it, he pulled out Maya’s drawing of him, Hannah and Simon. He’d shoved it in there before when he was leaving the hotel, not wanting to leave it behind.

And then, the emotion which he’d fought so hard to keep at bay completely crashed over him as he looked at the drawing that his daughter had done. His face crumpled and his shoulders began to shake in a silent sob. A moment later, he felt Hannah move and she let out a soft sigh.

“Oh, Ari. It’s okay, we made it.”

He sniffed again and then gave a smile, wiping a tear which had trickled down to the tip of his nose as he glanced again at the drawing, then to Hannah.

“I can’t wait for you to meet her, Firefly.”

“I can’t wait to meet her either.” She whispered, smiling at him.

“God, I love you.” He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes as she whispered back.

“I love you too.”

****

Hannah was asleep, her head resting on Ari’s chest. His large arms held her protectively to him, his bearded cheek resting on her head. He wasn’t in a deep sleep, more like a heavy doze. He woke a few times as people attempted to move around in the confines of the aircraft carrier. Eventually, though, the hushed voices started to get louder and murmurs spread across the cabin. Ari cracked his eye open and looked up to see one of the marines descending the stairs. He caught Ari’s eye and gave him a weary smile.

“We’re about to start the descent.”

Ari took a deep breath, the relief washing over him and he felt Hannah stir.

“What’s going on?” She asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“We’re about to start our descent, baby.” He kissed her forehead, his voice cracking with emotion. “We’re home.”

At his words, her eyes begin to water and she struggled for her own words, but managed a strangled whisper of his name. He swallowed in response, wrapped his arms around her tighter and pressed his face into her hair. “I know, I know.”

They sat silently, and air of unmistakable, yet nervous excitement as the plane slowly began to lose altitude. As there were no windows, no one had any idea how far off the ground they were at any given moment, and there were loud shrieks as the wheels hit the ground and they were all jolted slightly. Ari felt Hannah’s hand grab his, and he squeezed her fingers as she glanced over at her brother. Sammy’s lips brushed Rachel’s hairline, smiling as he caught his sister’s eye.

After what felt like forever, the plane came to a shuddering stop, and the agents in the cargo hold all rose to their feet. Ari moved to the rear, his hand still around Hannah’s as he took her with him, the people who were sat on the floor all parting to allow them a path through. As the ramp lowered, the morning sun started sifting through the opening tailgate. Hannah blinked, raising her hand to shield her eyes from the sudden glare.

“Lobo, what time is it?” She asked suddenly. “I err, I don’t know where my watch is. I didn’t-“

“It doesn’t matter, Firefly,” Ari soothed, knowing she’d be upset about losing it, “I’ll get you ano-“ then he stopped dead as he glanced down at his own, realisation flooding his system. “Han?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy birthday, Sweetheart.”

She blinked and then smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

Ari chuckled as he kissed her softly. “I’m so sorry, I nearly forgot…I did have something for you but-”

Her lips curled into a smile against his. “I’ll forgive you, it’s been a busy few days.”

Their foreheads touched together for a few seconds until the ramp hit the floor and they were jerked back into the operation. Ari moved swiftly into his leader role, barking orders to get the people off requiring medical assistance first as a buzz of activity swarmed through the plane. Once he was satisfied that everyone had heard him and understood, he turned and made his way down the ramp, the metal clanging beneath his boots. As soon as his feet touched the ground of his homeland, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging in utter relief. He couldn’t even begin to describe the emotions being back spiked in his chest.

But, he didn’t have time to dwell on it. It was non-stop activity as he threw himself into helping the people off the plane, directing them across the tarmac towards the waiting ambulances, military attendees and aid-givers.

Ari had just turned back to the ramp after helping an elderly lady towards a waiting stretcher, when he saw Bowen approach Ethan and Isaacs, shaking their hands. Ethan looked over and caught Ari’s eye and gave him a nod, which he returned before he moved forward to relive one of the soldiers of Kabede.

“I’ve got him.” Ari insisted as he helped his friend over to the paramedics, wanting to make sure the man was given care as a matter of priority.

“Ari, there are thousands more…” Kabede began and Ari nodded, his hand curling over the man’s shoulder.

“We’re gonna go back,” he assured, before he hesitated and took a deep breath, “well, some of us will.”

As the paramedic assured Ari they’d take care of the man, he stood up straight, his hands falling to his hips as he contemplated his words. The us wouldn’t include him, but he felt at peace with that, it was time to bow out.

And what a success of a swan song.

He watched Kabede getting wheeled towards a waiting ambulance and he took a deep breath and headed over towards Hannah who was stood hugging Rachel. Ari stopped with a slight chuckle to pet Simon as the faithful mutt ran towards him, jumping up at his legs.

“Welcome to Tel Aviv, buddy.”

Sammy met him a few strides later, the two men embracing silently. There were no words needed. With their arms around one another they moved towards the girls and Ari inclined his head to Hannah, signalling for her to follow him.

“Is that a fucking dog?” Isaacs asked, watching the animal as it trotted behind Ari and Hannah as they made their way towards them.

“Yes. Simon.” Ethan replied, his eyes twinkling slightly.

“What?” Isaacs turned slowly to look at him.

“The dog. His name is Simon. Simon Le Bone, to give him his full title.” Ethan’s lips curled up in a slight smile as Isaacs let out a noise of disbelief from his nose.

“They brought a fucking dog from fucking Sudan.” It was a statement not a question, and he followed it with a snort and a shake of his head. “He’s so fired.”

“Oh, I already fired him. Again. The other night.” Ethan replied. “But I have a feeling it’s a moot point. By all means, feel free to try once more.”

Hannah and Ari exchanged a look as they approach the two men who had, at that moment, both burst out laughing. Ari shook Isaacs hand as Ethan swept Hannah into a hug.

“From the hospitality trade to animal transportation I see, Ari.” Isaacs levelled him with a look, his eyes twinkling with humour.

“Four hundred refugees,” Ari shot back, as he moved to shake Ethan’s hand “I figured one more wouldn’t make a difference.”

“Mrs Horowitz, nice to see you again.” Isaacs smiled as he shook her hand.

“Miss Navon.” She corrected him a little shyly, and Ari looked at her smiling softly, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

Isaacs clearly noticed the sign of affection as he arched his brow, sharing a side glance with Ethan. Simon then gave a little whine, jumping up at Hannah’s leg once more and Isaacs gave a snort. “Yeah, that’s the oddest looking dog I’ve ever seen. Where’s his hair?”

“Same place as mine, I expect.” Ethan spoke, humour in his voice and both Hannah and Ari laughed. “I think he’s rather distinguished looking, wouldn’t you say Barack?”

Isaacs looked at Ethan, his brows raised before he snorted and glanced down at the dog. “Distinguished, hairless Simon.” He stated, before he shook his head and looked back at Hannah and Ari. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” Hannah let out a deep breath before she looked at Ethan. “Is Mama here?”

“Everyone is waiting at HQ. We didn’t want to draw too much attention by having everyone here.” He answered and she nodded.

“Is Maya there?” Ari asked.

“Yes.” Ethan raised a brow. “And Sarah.”

At that Hannah frowned and looked down at her shoes, a funny feeling brewing in her stomach. This was the side to being home that she hadn’t, until now, really given much thought. In Sudan, they’d been in their own little bubble, nothing to worry or bother them, no complications pertaining to their relationship to think about. And that was all about to change.

As if he could sense her trepidation, Ari squeezed her hand and she looked at him. He gave her a soft smile before Ethan cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Oh, and happy birthday.”

“Thanks Ethan.” Hannah’s voice was quiet, unlike her brother as he spoke loudly from behind them.

“It’s your birthday?”

She rolled her eyes and turned to look at him over her shoulder where he stood with Rachel. “Don’t worry, Ari forgot too.”

Ari rolled his eyes and was about to answer her back, but he his attention was drawn to Isaacs who was now busy dodging Simon’s attempts to bite his trouser seams. Ethan looked at Ari, both of them trying to hold back a laugh as Isaacs cursed at the dog, nudging him away with his foot.

Max and Jake then joined them and after they had both shaken hands with Isaacs and Ethan, they all made their way towards the cars which were waiting to take them back to HQ.

“There’s no room for the dog in the cars.” Isaacs grumbled, once again moving his leg out of the way of Simon’s teeth. “Not if the fucker’s going to keep biting me, anyway.”

“Don’t worry, he can sit on my knee.” Ari bent down and swooped the dog up into his arms. Simon’s tail began to wag as he licked Ari’s beard. “He likes to put his paws on the dash.”

Isaacs merely groaned in response.

*****

The minute the group of agents walked into the main foyer of Headquarters they started to attract attention, which Ari wasn’t surprised at. Not least did they all look battered and worse for wares, but they had a strange looking dog trotting ahead of them, one that insisted snigging at everyone who stopped to greet them.

After a few hellos, smiles and shaking of hands, they made their way to the elevator at the rear, Ethan selecting the floor that would take them up to the Operations Office. Ari had to give an amused chuckle when, as it started to move, Simon splayed his legs a little and then looked up at Hannah, giving a little whine as he wobbled. She bent down and scratched his ear, soothing him a little as the dog clearly wasn’t impressed with the strange, moving metal box they were in. It didn’t escape Ari how stupid that seemed, considering he’d just spent a fair few hours on a bigger metal box flying through the sky but then again the dog was a funny little creature when all things were considered.

It was for that reason, that as soon as the elevator doors opened, the canine pushed his way out and then stopped dead at the loud round of applause that had erupted. He paused and cocked his head to one side, and then Ari heard a familiar voice, one he’d been aching to hear for so long, as it shouted over the cacophony of noise.

“Simon? Mom, it’s Simon, look! Daddy and Hannah brought him home with them!”

Ari swallowed, tears instantly filling his eyes as he stepped out of the elevator with a purposeful stride and looked at Maya who grinned back at him.

“Daddy!”

He barely had time to register her loud, excited shout when she launched at him. With a heavy thud he dropped to his knees and held her close, his large arms wrapping around her small frame. His face pressed into her long, black hair as he screwed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath.

“Hey, Munchkin.” He managed to whisper out, his voice choking as the lump in his throat threatened to close off his airway.

“You stink.” Maya whispered and Ari gave a splutter of a laugh as he pulled back a little, brushing her hair off her face.

“Sorry.” He sniffed and she shrugged, her hands moving to his shirt, fingers fiddling with the buttons just under his collar bone.

“It’s okay.” She smiled, before her arms wrapped around his neck again and she pressed her cheek to his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby," he let out a small sob, “so very much.”

Meanwhile, Hannah had set off running towards her mom, followed closely by Sammy. The three of them embraced, a loud babble of sobs and whispers of love and greetings in a flurry of English and Spanish as they held each other tight. Maria pulled back to look at both her children, her hands reaching up to cup their faces in turn as she pressed kisses to both their cheeks.

“You two are never going back to a dangerous mission, you hear me?” She spluttered and Hannah gave a little laugh as she cried, hugging her mom tight.

“I didn’t even wanna go on this one so... no arguments from me.” Sammy mumbled as his mom pulled him close. Hannah smiled as he stepped away and turned to watch Rachel who was hugging her kids tightly. As her brother gestured for his girlfriend to come and met their mama, Hannah’s eyes than looked over to see Sarah was embracing Ari tightly. Ari pulled back and smiled at his estranged wife, as he adjusted Maya who was now balanced on his hip. He said something to the woman, who gave him a smile, softly touching his arm as she nodded.

A flash of jealousy suddenly washed over Hannah and she swallowed, taking a deep breath, telling herself she was being unreasonable. No matter what had happened between the two, they had a deep history, and would always in some form care for one another, they had a child together, it was understandable.

Still, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

But, thankfully, she didn’t have much time to think on it all things considered, because Maya tapped Ari’s shoulder and he looked at her, kissing her cheek. She laughed and then spoke, a huge grin spreading across Ari’s face as he nodded. Then, he turned and beamed at Hannah, pointing towards her.

He placed Maya down on the floor and she took his hand, practically pulling him over towards Hannah, a huge grin on her pretty little face.

“Firefly, I got someone here very keen to meet you.” Ari spoke as he stopped in front of her and Hannah raised her brows teasingly, despite the sudden nerves flooding her system at the fact she was about to meet Ari’s daughter for the first time.

“Really? And who would that be?”

Maya gave a little giggle and she looked at Ari who himself chuckled before she turned back to Hannah. “Hi Hannah!”

“Hi, Maya, sweetheart!” Hannah smiled as she crouched down. “I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

Maya beamed and threw her arms round her, temporarily stunning Hannah who recovered quickly and a hugged the girl back as she spoke. “Me too, Dad’s told me all about you.”

Ari smiled as he watched the two of them, his heart feeling beyond full. He took a deep breath and glanced up, spotting Mama Navon reprimanding Max for something he had just said, slapping him behind the head lightly. Ari chuckled, there was no doubt in his mind that Max had quipped something to her about Ethan. Maria looked round, spotted him and smiled. He grinned back and stepped forward to give her a hug.

“Hey, Maria.”

“Oh, Ari, It’s good to see you.” She whispered as she hugged him. He smiled down at her as she pulled back, slapping his arm. “You all had me worried sick!”

He gave a little sigh and a shrug. “Had myself worried for a moment, too.”

Maria squinted her eyes at him. “Typical Levinson, huh?”

At that he smirked. “You know me.”

“Yeah, he never has a plan!” Sammy shot as he stood a few feet away, arm round Rachel who was talking to Ethan.

Ari looked at his friend who was smirking and he let out a scoff, as Sammy’s eyes then flicked to Hannah who was still crouched down chatting to Maya who was bombarding her with questions about Sudan and Simon, the dog sat beside them, his tail thumping as Maya stroked him.

“Well, sometimes the stuff you don’t plan is what works out best.” Ari responded as he met Sammy’s eyes. Sammy scoffed before he chuckled.

“Yeah, because you’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

Ari looked down at Hannah once more, before he met Sammy’s gaze, his eyes flicking to Maria before he shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah, I am.”

Ari’s attention was then taken by Sarah, who’d approached them a little shyly, her hand dropping to Maya’s head. “Maya, honey, give Hannah some rest.”

Hannah looked up, before she rose to her feet. “Honestly, it’s no bother.”

Sarah gave her a grateful smile before she took a deep breath, holding out her hand. “Hi, Hannah.”

Hannah smiled back, taking it in hers. “How are you, Sarah?”

“I should be asking how you are.” The dark haired woman replied and Hannah shrugged.

“I’m fine now, thanks.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

Maya, who had been watching them both from where she sat on the floor playing with Simon, looked up at Ari who simply shrugged, before he held his hand out and she took it. He pulled her to her feet where she jumped once more into his arms and he lifted her up.

“How long are you home for?” she asked him. He looked at Hannah who’d turned to face him and he smiled, kissing Maya’s cheek again.

“For good baby, for good.”

****

The main office became more and more crowded as time ticked by. Food and champagne suddenly appeared as a ‘Welcome Home’ party of sorts struck up. As Isaacs stood to give a small speech, talking about what they’d achieved, Ari felt a little pang of guilt as his mind flicked to the refugees that had been transported away from the airport to their temporary accommodations. They wouldn’t be getting anything near as flashy or as lavish as this, but he knew they’d be taken care of and given food, water and shelter in a lot better conditions than they’d been in before. With that in mind, he let himself go a little, allowing himself to be proud of what they’d managed to pull off.

It was astounding when he thought about it, the many missions they’d run, the danger they’d overcome. But as he stood in the room where he’d first outlined his vision years ago, he couldn’t help but think about how the best thing of all at that moment was how well Maya and Hannah seemed to be getting on. Maya had almost stuck to her side, and Simon’s, like glue. Ari noticed Sarah’s expression slip a few times as she observed them, but to her credit she said nothing.

Eventually, later in the afternoon, Isaacs called time on the celebrations as they had to debrief and go through the rest of the serious stuff that came after missions. Maya wanted to stay, growing teary when both Ari and Sarah tried to reason with her that she couldn’t. To avoid an impending tantrum and floods of tears, Ari promised he would collect her the following evening from school for dinner, assuring her once more that he wasn’t leaving again and eventually she allowed her mom to take her home after bidding a final goodbye to him, Hannah and the dog she now seemed to be totally in love with.

The formal discussions and reports were given to what felt like the entire Mossad and Military board. There were numerous things to sign, all were given dates and times for appointments with therapists, they were also all subject to medical examinations to ensure neither of them had any temperatures or other symptoms which would suggest they had any underlying infections or diseases. By the time this was over, it was pushing eight pm and all of them were relieved when Isaacs finally dismissed them, telling them to head home for some well-earned rest and recuperation.

But, it was only when Ethan handed Ari the keys to his apartment that it suddenly dawned on him that Hannah and he were about to go their separate ways. He knew she intended on going home with Sammy to her mom’s, having not seen her in over six months and Ari didn’t want to stop her from doing that, especially not on her birthday.

Yet, whilst he understood, completely, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on his own in his apartment.

“You okay, Lobo?” Hannah’s voice roused him from his thoughts and he looked up, closing his fingers around his keys as Ethan left the office.

“Yeah, fine. Just tired.” He smiled as she stepped forward into his arms.

“Me too. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” She mumbled and Ari chuckled.

“Well, you can wake up late tomorrow with your mom fussing and making you brunch.” Ari smiled as he pulled back and Hannah looked up at him, her lips curling up at one side.

“Yeah, she’s looking forward to spoiling us.”

“Sure Sammy can’t wait.” Ari chuckled. “He can finally stop complaining about not knowing if his meet is beef, camel or goat.”

Hannah laughed and then took a deep breath, her fingers playing smoothing gently over the shoulders of his shirt. “She’s already been grilling me about whether you still like Spanish Omelette.”

“Me?” Ari blinked. “Why?”

“For tomorrow.” Hannah looked at him. “I thought, well assumed, that seeing as Maya isn’t staying with you that you’d wanna come back with us. I mean, if you don’t that’s-“

“No, I mean, yes. Of course I do, I just figured that you and Sammy might want a family night alone with your mama.”

“Ari, you are family.” Hannah looked at him, her hand moving to his neck, gently tangling in his hair. “And besides, Sammy’s not had much say in the matter. Mama slapped his protests down about you being a pain in the ass straight away.”

Ari chuckled and shook his head. “He still hates me, huh?”

“No, he loves you.” Hannah shook her head. “He was smiling when he said it. Mind you, we might wanna wait a little till everything’s settled to tell them were getting married.”

Ari smiled, before he took a deep breath and bit his lip. “Yeah I need to break that to Sarah, too. And buy you a ring.”

Hannah beamed, her nails gently scratching his neck. “One thing at a time, we’ll think about all that later. For now let’s just be happy we made it back.”

Ari took a deep breath before he gently leaned down and pressed his lips to Hannah’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Hannah whispered as she kissed him back, his tongue gentle yet domineering as it swept into her mouth, sliding against hers.

He pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers and she smiled before a small bark interrupted them and they turned to see Simon sat by the desk on the corner, his head cocked to one side.

Ari shook his head. “You’re a pain in my ass.” He said to the dog who merely wagged his tail.

“Come on, Lobo.” Hannah slipped her hand in his as she tugged him behind her towards the door. “Let’s go home.”

*****

Chapter 16

#leave no one behind #Ari Levinson #ari levinson x ofc #ari levinson x original female character #red sea diving resort #red sea diving resort fan fic #ari levinson fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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peachy-rambles · 3 years

Note

Kikis delivery service au? 👀 Please go on, that’s one of my favorites of the ghibli movies and I would love to hear your thoughts on it

(Also really dumb idea but Tommy as Gigi but he’s a raccoon. Who for? Yes. Regardless of who is Kiki- oooooh and there’s that artist lady with the crows-)

-inky

Ok so here's some thoughts I have about it off the top of my head:

When Phil was 13, he left home as young witches do (with his dove familiar, Wilbur) to find his way in the world and whatever his special talent was because every witch has a special talent. He finds his way to a big city and settles there, finding work at a garden centre. He was always good with plants and he enjoys his job, even if it's a lot of work. There's even a bakery down the street he often visits and becomes friends with the owner.

One day when Phil visits the bakery, he notices that the owner is acting different and seems much more quiet and closed off. It doesn't take much pressing from him to get her to tell him what's wrong.

"It's my son. He's sick and I can't afford the medicine he needs," she eventually admits.

Phil gets more details from her about her son and he heads back to where he's staying, pulling out an old book he'd packed before leaving. It's an ancient journal written by one of his ancestors about herbs, potions and brewing medicine. He gets to work, figuring out which potion he needs to make and collects the plants he needs to it from the garden centre. It takes a few trial and errors but eventually he successfully makes the potion he needs.

He brings it to the bakery's owner and gives her the proper instructions on how to give it to her son before leaving.

A few weeks later when he visits the bakery, the owner is delighted to see him and tells him that his potion worked! Her son is still recovering, but he was no longer sick and almost healthy again.

The owner brings Phil to meet her son, Techno, who just turned 3. Techno loves Phil right away, especially because he knows Phil is the one who helped him get better. Over the next few years, Phil often visits the bakery and will sometimes babysit Techno, spending time with him.

Eventually though, Phil figures it's time for him to leave the city and to head back home. Techno is naturally distraught and is angry at Phil, thinking his friend is leaving him for good. But Phil promises he'll send Techno letters and definitely visit whenever he gets the chance.

Phil returns home and makes good on his promise, sending Techno letters at least twice a month and Techno always writes him back (well, he tries his best, being only 5 and all).

But then...Phil's letters slow down to once a month. Then once every few months.

The last letter Techno receives from Phil is wishing Techno a happy 6th birthday, and how Phil will try to visit in a few weeks if he can.

He never does.

Despite this, Techno keeps sending letters, hoping maybe if he sends enough Phil will reply. But as more time passes, he realizes that's it's probably useless and knows that Phil won't reply. Techno doesn't give up completely however and once a year, he'll send Phil a letter, telling him about all the things that have happened to him in the past year. He always ends the letter by saying how he misses Phil and hopes he's okay.

Years pass and Techno grows up, eventually inheriting the bakery from his mother who passed away when Techno was 18. Techno is an amazing baker, but because of his giant size and generally terrifying appearance+social anxiety and awkwardness...he isn't good at running the bakery and interacting with people. So, he hires another local baker named Niki to help him out. They're both great bakers and work well together, but Niki is usually the one manning the front and interacting with customers while Techno stays (hides) in the back.

Eventually, Techno (and Niki) take on an apprentice named Ranboo. He's not the best at baking yet, but he has a genuine interest in it and is great at making cookies and decorating cakes.

One day, while Ranboo is helping closing up the bakery with Techno, he's notices a little yellow raccoon with a green bandana tied around it's neck, digging through the trash. It hisses and runs away as soon as it spots Ranboo, but it's back the next night. This time though, Ranboo is prepared and has a spare loaf of broad to offer the raccoon. The raccoon still hisses at him and runs off, but not before nabbing the bread from Ranboo.

This becomes a routine for about a week, Ranboo feeding the raccoon any spare food from the bakery. At the end of the week, Ranboo decides to follow the raccoon. Because it's clearly going somewhere with the food and the bandana around it's neck probably mean it belongs to someone.

That's how Ranboo meets Tubbo - a witch in training, who wasn't able to find a place to stay and has been wandering the streets for the past week. His raccoon familiar, Tommy, was taking the food that Ranboo gave him and giving it to Tubbo to eat since he had no money or food left.

Ranboo listens to Tubbo's plights and after thinking it over, Ranboo comes up with an idea: Tubbo could live with Ranboo in the spare attic above the bakery that Techno let's Ranboo stay in!

Tubbo doesn't hesitate and accepts Ranboo's offer. They do attempt to hide Tubbo's presence from Techno, unsure of how he'll react to a witch (or you know, just a strange random teenager living in his attic), but Techno catches them on the first day when Tubbo sneaks into the bakery to steal some desserts.

Techno isn't heartless so he let's Tubbo continue to stay with Ranboo, just as long as he helps around the bakery and doesn't get in anyone's way. Even though Techno seems to not mind Tubbo's presence, the others in the bakery still can't help but notice that Techno very much avoids Tubbo and they have no idea why.

Maybe Techno dislikes witches or is scared of them? But if he does, why would he agree to let Tubbo stay.

Of course we know why Techno is hesitant around Tubbo: it's because of Phil.

Techno doesn't hate Phil or hate witches because of Phil, but he is...hesitant to trust them or get close to them. Which is why he's so wary around Tubbo and does his best to ignore and avoid him. Afterall, Techno has no idea what happened to Phil or why he stopped sending letters and why he broke his promise to Techno.

The truth is, when Phil returned home all those years ago, it turned out that while he was gone his parents had made an arranged marriage for him to another witch from a powerful family. Phil didn't really have a choice and went through with the marriage. He didn't tell Techno any of this through his letters because Techno was just a child and Phil didn't think it was relevant to tell him.

All of Techno's letters that he mailed were all sent to Phil's family's house, which Phil no longer lived at (now living with his spouse) and Phil would always send Wilbur over to deliver any letters from Techno to him.

As time went on, Phil became more and more depressed with his living situation, especially because his spouse and their family weren't...the nicest.

Eventually, something happens with his spouse, which makes Phil snap and he runs away, leaving everyone behind. He travels for a very long time until he finds a little abandoned cabin at the edge of some woods, nearby a small quaint little town. Phil decides to make the cabin his own and it becomes home to him. He eventually builds a greenhouse and garden, turning his little cabin into an apothecary, where he makes and sells potions and medicines (he will also sell his plants if people are interested, but it's mostly the potions).

He eventually earns the nickname "the Crowfather" by the town and surrounding area, due to the amount of birds (mostly crows but other birds as well) that tend to hang around his cabin and shop. Sometimes you can ever catch him talking to the birds (usually scolding them for whatever reason).

Phil enjoys the life he's made for himself and avoids thinking about his past, but sometimes he'll remember Techno and feel some regret. He sometimes wonders if maybe he should send Techno a letter and tell him that he's okay, that he misses Techno and had full intentions of visiting him, but life had other plans. Phil has written many letters over the years to Techno, but whenever he tries to send one, he always backs out and ends up throwing the letter away.

Techno was just a child when he last saw Phil and has probably long forgotten Phil already, so there's no need to send him a letter. That's what Phil believes anyway.

Phil pushes any thoughts of Techno out of his head and tries to focus on the life he has now.

Eventually, Phil finds and takes in a toddler named Tubbo, who Phil recognizes as another witch. Phil raises Tubbo and trains him in the ways of witches, until the day Tubbo turns 13 and heads off to go on his own journey to find his special talent.

Phil has no idea that his apprentice ended up in the same city Phil did all those years ago, and somehow found the same bakery Phil did and is now living under Techno's roof and being looked after by him.

But Phil will find out when Tubbo sends his first letter to Phil, giving him all the details of his journey so far, including the bakery he's staying in and the owner - Techno.

#techza #technophil #asks and replies #peachy said a thing #peachy fic prompts #inky anon

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

E3: The One with the Wedding//F.W.

Series Summary: FRIENDS but with Harry Potter characters after Hogwarts graduation, trying to figure out their lives and relationships. Non Voldy AU.

Pairing(s): Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader, Ron x Lavender, Romione

Warnings: Language, mentions of food, drinking (legal), mentions of sex, nudity

Summary: As Hermione hustles to interrupt Ron and Lavender’s wedding in New York City, Fred and Y/N have a heart to heart which quickly turns into something much more.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: This may or may not be 9 days late (my b) but it’s the 5th and final fic in Abby’s Week of Weasley !! The FRIENDS series will continue!

Message me to join the FRIENDS taglist or my general taglist

-Episode 1- -Episode 2-

~Abby’s Week of Weasley Masterlist~ ~Masterlist~

May 2004

Previously on FRIENDS

“Hey Luna?” Hermione called from her bedroom. She and her friend had spent the day discussing her feelings for Ron and trying their best to help her get over him. Apparently recounting the horrors of their relationship was not helping in the slightest.

“Yeah,” Luna called back from the kitchen.

“Do you remember where the pygmy puff food is?” Her muffled voice sounded rushed and anxious, even more so than Hermione usually was.

“Yeah, it’s under the front counter of Fred and George’s shop. Why?”

Luna turned her head to see Hermione come flying into the room dragging a packed suitcase behind her. “Because I’m going to New York.”

The pregnant girl nearly had a heart attack at Hermione’s declaration. “What? What do you mean you’re going to New York?”

Hermione grabbed a few more essentials from around the apartment, rushing in order to catch the next flight. “Yeah, I have to tell Ronald that I love him. Now Luna, you take care, you don’t have those babies until I get back.”

“I--but what about all of the finding his flaws and burning his picture rituals we’ve been doing?” Luna asked, straining to stand up and chase after her friend.

Hermione easily moved past the slow-moving girl, zipping up her bag and heading to the door. “Yeah, that didn’t work. I know he loves Lavender but I have to tell him how I feel! He deserves to have all of the information and then he can make an informed decision.”

Phoebe shook her head and continued to hobble around the room. “No, Hermione, it’s too late, you missed your chance! I’m sorry, I know this must be really hard, it’s over.”

The other girl paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “Y’know what? No. It’s not over until someone says ‘I do.’” And with that she took off out of the apartment and to the streets of Diagon Alley, on her way to another country to declare her love for Ron Weasley.

------------------------------

“Would you look at this place,” George sighed in awe, staring around at the beautifully decorated dinner hall. There were chandeliers hanging everywhere and everyone was dressed in clothes that looked like they cost more than everything the Weasleys owned combined. Fred and George twisted uncomfortably in their mediocre suits. Sure, they were successful businessmen with some money to spare, but they could never compete with this.

“Holy shit,” you said, coming up behind the twins. They turned around, startled to see you suddenly appear. Fred took a second to look you up and down, mouth hanging slightly open in surprise.

“Holy shit is right, Y/N,” he said. “You look bloody amazing!” You glanced down at your outfit, a slim fitting long dress that hugged your form perfectly. You smiled and did a little twirl for the boys who whooped and whistled at you.

“While I appreciate the compliment,” you said, “I was talking about the hall. How rich is Lavender’s family anyway?”

Fred shrugged. “Apparently loaded. I mean, it’s not like our family could ever compete with this. How Ron was able to pull someone this high up is a mystery to me.”

He and George picked at their clothes self consciously, trying to straighten their ties and smooth out their suits.

“Oh come now,” you said, “you two are perfectly successful. Who cares if the Browns could afford to buy all of London if they wanted to? Let’s just enjoy the night and eat all of the expensive food they bought!”

“Y/N, you’re my dream girl,” Fred said, putting his arm around your waist. “If you ever want to marry a Weasley, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“I appreciate the offer, Weasley, but I do think George and I would be a couple to be reckoned with.”

“Ha! Suck it Fred, I get Y/N and you’re stuck alone,” George said, kissing your cheek and stealing you away from his brother.

Fred was about to reply when a loud voice echoed through the room and everyone turned to see a short red haired woman come hurtling through the door.

“Mum!” cried Ron from across the room. He grabbed Lavender’s hand and they made their way over where you and the twins were standing, now accompanied by the latest arrivals, Molly and Arthur Weasley.

“Sweetheart!” Molly squealed, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh sorry we’re late, Muggle transportation is such a hassle, especially in this country. Your father spent 20 minutes trying to figure out how to call a taxi and he wouldn’t stop asking the driver everything you could ask!”

“I still never got an answer to my rubber duck question,” Arthur grumbled before a warm smile appeared on his face. “Hello, Lavender, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“You as well!” she said before hugging Arthur and then Molly. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, here come my parents.”

Sure enough, two very wealthy looking people were walking over to join their daughter and future son in law.

“Hello, hello,” said Lavender’s father, shaking the hands of the Weasleys. “How do you do? Very nice to meet all of you.” He glanced over at his wife. “Darling, it’s the Weasleys.”

“Sorry, what?,” she said, finally looking up at the family, a hint of distaste in her gaze. “Oh, lovely to meet you.” Her snobby look never faltered, making the rest of the Weasley clan even more uncomfortable.

Arthur cleared his throat. “It’s great to meet you both. I’m sorry we couldn’t help pay for much of the wedding, but we hope that we can at least cover the cost of dinner tonight.”

“Yes of course,” said Molly. “We know how expensive weddings can be, besides this may be the last time I watch one of my sons get married.”

Fred and George rolled their eyes at their mother, who wouldn’t stop pestering them to settle down since Bill, Percy, and now Ron were all either married or close to it.

“We’ve heard the complaints, mum,” said Fred.

“But hey, at least we’re saving you money!” George said.

“And not giving me grandchildren,” she mumbled, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

You decided to jump in and defend your friends. “At least you’ve still got other kids who are starting their own families, Molly. And besides, do you really want to have these two bring little Fred’s and George’s into the world?”

Molly smiled and put her hand on your shoulder. “I suppose you’re right dear. They were, and still are, quite a handful.”

“Hey!” they both shouted, clearly offended.

You giggled and wandered off with Molly, telling her the latest stories of the many troubles the twins had gotten into.

------------------------------

Hermione, never one for athletics, was suddenly an Olympic sprinter, flying down the halls of the London airport. She reached the ticket counter, cutting off some very angry travelers, and threw her bags onto the scale.

After a few long seconds of leaning over and catching her breath, she finally muttered a “hi” to the ticket agent.

“Hello,” she replied cheerfully.

“Oh, umm, hello!” Hermione replied, mirroring the chipperness of the agent. “When is your next flight to New York City?”

“There’s one leaving in 30 minutes,” she replied.

“Oh, thank Godric,” she muttered, earning herself a few odd looks from passersby at her unique choice of language.

The woman behind the counter typed a few things into her computer. “The last minute fare on this ticket is twenty seven hundred dollars.”

Hermione reached around in her purse, fumbling with gold and silver coins. “How about galleons?” she asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nevermind,” Hermione sighed, sprinting off again to apparate to Diagon Alley and exchange her galleons for Muggle money. There was no way she was going to miss this flight.

------------------------------

“I’d like to make a toast!” Fred announced, standing up from his table with a wine glass in hand. “Ron and Lavender. Of course, my big toast will be tomorrow at the wedding, so this is kind of my little toast or Melba toast, if you will.”

He was only met with silence and you and George very visibly facepalmed.

“Okay…” he continued hesitantly. “I’ve known Ron for a long time. His whole life, actually. See I got the first two years of my life without my baby brother, but nope he’s always had me, and I know he’s so incredibly grateful for that.”

When once again there was no reaction, Fred decided it was time to up the performance.

“I remember when Ron was going out with his first girlfriend. And I thought things were going to work out for him. Until the day he over inflated her!” Fred winked at his little brother, whose face was redder than his hair. For the third time in the last minute Fred did not get anywhere close to the reaction he had expected. “Oh dear Godric…”

“How about I take over for you, Freddie.” George said, taking the microphone from his slightly older brother. “Everyone knows I am the more charming twin, isn’t that right?” He was met with some soft giggles and a whoop from one of the bridesmaids sitting a few tables away. Fred begrudgingly plopped down into his seat, leaning his head on your shoulder as he pouted for the rest of the dinner.

As everyone finished their speeches, you giving one about your friendship with Ron that even brought Molly to tears, you found yourself sprawled out on a fancy couch still consoling Fred.

“I was laughing,” you said while patting him on the knee.

“Out loud?” he asked, crossing his arms and shoving your hand away.

You looked down at your wine glass guiltily. “Well I didn’t want everyone to think I was stupid.” Fred groaned and buried his face in his hands, ruffling his hair in frustration that you knew went deeper than a few poor jokes. “Hey, how are you doing?”

He looked up at you questioningly, cocking his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to hide it from me, Freddie, I can tell when something’s bothering you, and I know it’s not just that your jokes sucked arse.”

“No, the audience sucked arse, I’m fucking hilarious.” You kicked him lightly, urging him to tell you. With a long sigh Fred sat up and turned to face you, his big brown eyes void of their usual cheerful gleam. “Mum’s driving me crazy! I mean, I get it, she wants me to get married and settle down and have kids, but she has 6 other children, two of them with kids of their own already! I don’t know, this whole wedding thing has just put a lot more pressure on me, that’s all.”

You tenderly rubbed his shoulder, feeling him relax slightly at your touch. “Don’t listen to her, ok? Marriage isn’t for everyone. Same with kids. You’re independent and carefree, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to settle down if you don’t want to.”

He mumbled something under his breath, too quiet for you to hear. “What?”

“I said…” he began slowly, “I said that it’s not that. It’s the complete opposite actually.”

Fred glanced across the room at his youngest brother holding hands with his fiancée and whispering something into her ear. “It’s just...he’s my younger brother. He’s Ron, for Merlin’s sake! How did Ron get a girl before me?”

“Aww, is Freddie jealous of his little brother?” you teased, knocking your shoulder into his. When he didn’t answer you tried to sober up, not used to seeing this side of Fred.

“I’m 26, Y/N,” he cried out. “And I know that’s not old or anything, but I just figured I’d have my life together by now. Maybe a long term girlfriend, or even--” he paused for a moment, continuing to watch Ron and Lavender. “--or maybe it would’ve been me walking down the aisle with someone I love.”

“Come here, love,” you cooed as you pulled Fred into your chest. “You know there’s no rush. Sure Ron’s getting married, but I think he found himself the only person in the world who’d ever date him and he had to tie her down quick.”

Fred shuddered into your chest with a small laugh, bringing his hands up to aimlessly play with your hair. “Yeah,” he said, “and we all know that the girls are lined up just waiting for me. I guess I’ve got time.”

“Exactly. And plenty of it.” Fred continued to play with your hair as you did the same with his, occasionally scratching at his scalp and listening to the quiet whimpers he would let out.

He shifted so he was looking up at you, mere inches away from your face. “Y’know, you’ve been acting strange lately too. What’s bugging you?”

“It’s nothing Freddie, I--”

“Uh uh.” He shook his head. “I poured my heart and soul out to you, the least you could do is do the same to me.”

Sighing, you checked around you to make sure no one would be able to overhear. “Promise you won’t tell Ron? I don’t want it to make anything weird in our relationship.”

Fred snapped his head between you and his younger brother, eyes growing wide as he jumped to the nearest possible answer. “You’re bloody in love with him, aren’t you?!”

“What?” you asked, laughing at the ridiculous accusation. “No! Oh, no no no, not at all! I’ve known him since we were 11, and trust me, watching young Ronnie throw up slugs will turn anyone off of him.”

Fred smiled down at you and breathed a sigh of relief, glad that you weren’t getting your heart broken by being at the wedding. “So what is it then? Promise I won’t tell, swear on George’s life.”

You rolled your eyes but snuggled up next to him, feeling much more comfortable with your best friend as close as possible. “Fine. You’re not the only one having to deal with parent problems. Like I said I’ve been friends with Ron since my family first found out I was a witch. My parents, being Muggles, immediately fell in love with your family, and Ron as well whenever he would come to visit over the summer. My mum has this whacked out idea that it should be me that’s marrying him tonight. She’s so disappointed, told me I’m passing up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But he’s just Ron! I could never see him like that. He’s like a brother to me.”

Fred sat silently throughout your whole rant, rubbing small circles over your knuckles with his thumb. When it seemed you had finally finished, Fred had no idea what to say. He had never been the comforting sort and had always managed to make it worse. As he did this time as well.

“Do you see me like that too?”

You looked at him with scrunched eyebrows, trying to understand how he decided on that as a response.

“As a brother, I mean.” He stuttered through his words. “Am I just another brother to you?”

“‘Course you are, Freddie. I love you like family.” He gazed at you lovingly, wondering what he had done to have a friend like you in his life.

“How about this then?” he asked. “How about, since your mom wants you to marry a Weasley, if by the time we’re both 40 and still single, why don’t we marry each other?”

He looked so sweet offering this to you, so kind and thoughtful. You knew that the deal would benefit him as well, but to you it felt like he was doing this only for you. And you knew he would do anything for you.

“I appreciate the offer, but I actually only promised George the same thing,” you said, making Fred’s jaw drop and a scowl appear on his face.

“George! My own bloody twin? How could you, Y/N? I revoke my proposal.”

“I’m practically in tears,” you said stoically. Deciding it was time to go out and mingle instead of throwing yourselves a pity party, you grabbed Fred’s hand and made your way over to find George, only to be stopped by a very obviously drunk man.

He put a hand on your shoulder which made both you and Fred tense up. “I just want to say,” he said through slurred speech, “that Ron is a wonderful young man.”

Fred eased his grip on your hand a little bit, sensing that this man wasn’t going to do anything to you. You gave him a thankful look before turning your attention back to the hammered American. “Well thanks, we like him.”

The man stepped closer to examine your face, his booze breath going straight up your nose. It took all you had not to throw up because of it.

“My God!” he exclaimed, “you two must’ve been teenagers when you had him!”

You and Fred both stared straight ahead, insecurities and doubts increasing tenfold at the misunderstanding. You gritted your teeth and held back from slapping the man, who luckily made his way to another table to insult someone else.

Fred turned you to face him and gripped your shoulders tight, leaning down so he was eye to eye with you. “The guy was hammered, okay? There’s no way that you look like Ron’s mum. Nor I his dad for that matter!”

“Then why would he say it?” you grumbled, pushing Fred away from you and going to get rid of your sadness by gorging on some food.

“Because he’s crazy!”

“Oh, my mother’s right. I’m never going to get married.”

“Ahh, you know what?” Fred touched the small of your back softly, turning you around to face him, his breath growing heavy in exasperation. “This is...who wouldn’t want you?”

------------------------------

The next morning, the biggest day of Ron’s life, he was racing down the hallways practically bouncing off the walls. He was getting married. After a failed relationship with Padma years before, Ron had finally been able to heal and pour his love onto someone else. Lavender Brown.

Sure, the relationship had moved fast. Really fast, actually. They had only been together for a few months before Ron popped the question, to which a very ecstatic Lavender happily agreed. He knew it was unorthodox. He knew it was impulsive. But he didn’t care. Because someone loved him.

He shot through the door of Fred and George’s hotel room, making Fred jolt awake with a start.

“I’m getting married today!” he screamed. “Whoo-hoo!”

Fred scrambled around in the bed sheets for a few seconds before scowling at his brother. “Morning, Ron.”

“I’m getting married. To-day!” he said, ignoring the annoyed looks Fred was shooting him.

Relaxing a little Fred smiled. “Yeah you are!”

Ron jumped around and sprinted out of the room, screaming as he ran down the hall to announce his feelings to all of the other hotel guests.

The bed in which Fred was sleeping shifted once again, but it wasn’t Fred’s doing. You shot up from under his covers, holding the blankets to cover your naked chest and panting heavily in worry. “Do you think he knew I was here?”

Fred slowly shook his head, refusing to make eye contact with you. He shifted in the bed, his leg accidentally brushing yours. You yelped and he quickly moved away, apologizing profusely.

After a long awkward silence, Fred finally spoke. “Well, I’ve--I’ve never done that with you before.”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’ and sinking down further into the bed, trying to disappear.

“So, ahh, how are you?” he said slowly. “You okay?”

You nodded, clutching the sheets so hard that your knuckles were turning white. “Yep, yep. You?”

“Yes, yes, uh huh. You?” The two of you finally made eye contact, faces equal shades of vermillion. “We did you. I did you. I--umm, sorry not the time.”

It got quiet once again. You let out a long breath, wondering how you were supposed to move on from sleeping with your best friend. You wanted to blame the alcohol from last night, but neither of you were drunk. You’d only had one glass of wine, just enough to make you a little more confident than normal. Apparently that was enough to do the trick.

“Well… I’d better get going,” you told him, starting to sit up before remembering you and Fred were both naked under the sheets.

“Oh, yea yea, absolutely,” he stammered, gesturing for you to leave.

“Could you not look, please?”

“I don’t want to look.” Fred covered his eyes, not even pretending to peak through them. It was uncomfortable enough as it is, he really didn’t want to be joking around at the moment.

You slowly slid off the bed, taking a moment to let what had happened last night fully sink in. Had you ruined your friendship with Fred? Was it going to be this weird from now on? You hustled to grab your clothes from yesterday, ready to complete the infamous walk of shame. Thankfully, your room was just down the hall so any chances of you being caught were slim. All you had to do was put on a happy face for the wedding, pretend to enjoy yourself, and forget any of this ever happened. Yeah, that would work. Right?

------------------------------

Lavender’s eyes went wide as she took in the scene around her. The wedding hall was absolutely gorgeous, decorated in elegant fairy lights and flowers hanging from baskets on the ceiling. It was like she was a princess in her own personal fairy tale.

She spun around in her wedding dress, not even caring about the weird looks some of her parents’ friends were giving her. She never cared for them, or the family status, anyway. She just wanted to live her life as her own person, taking each step with someone she loved holding her hand.

“Hey.” Lavender was interrupted by the voice of her lover, standing bashfully a few feet away with his hands in his pockets.

“Ron!” she chastised playfully. “You’re not supposed to see me in my wedding dress, it’s bad luck!”

“I think we’ve had all the bad luck we’re going to have.” Lavender grinned and jumped into Ron’s arms, giggling as he swung her around. He finally put her down kissing the top of her head as he did so. “I’ll see you in a few hours, when you’re finally mine forever.”

“It can’t come soon enough.” The brunette was then distracted by Parvati calling her name, so she bid Ron goodbye and skipped over to her maid of honor.

She didn’t notice the unexpected guest standing at the end of the aisle, listening to their entire conversation. Or maybe if she did, she chose to ignore it. After all, her and Ron’s bad luck was over. She was finally getting the one thing she wanted most in life. To be loved.

Ron stared longingly at the girl he loved so deeply talk to her best friend, before the same unexpected guest that Lavender hadn’t noticed caught his eye. “Oh Merlin, Hermione!”

He ran up to her and kissed her on the cheek, ecstatic that his friend had decided to come to New York for his wedding. “You’re here. I can’t believe it! What happened? Why are you here?”

Hermione took a quick glance over at where Lavender was standing. She had seen everything. Heard it all. She knew how much they both cared for each other, and who was she to stand in the way of their love? She had missed her chance with Ron, but Lavender hadn’t.

“Well I just came…” She touched his chest right near his heart, tears threatening to spill. “I just needed to tell you…”

She couldn’t do it. It wasn’t fair to either of them. Hermione took a deep breath and put on a fake smile. “Congratulations.”

Ron grabbed her tightly and hugged her with all of his strength, tears of joy pooling in his eyes. Tears continued to grow in Hermione's, but for completely different reasons. Today was the day everything changed. Today her chance was gone. Forever.

------------------------------

If the chapel was beautiful before, it was even more extravagant with all of the lights lit up and the band playing soft, romantic music. Any normal day you would’ve enjoyed the site, wishing that someday you could have a wedding just like this. But unfortunately the only thing on your mind was the events of the previous night.

“Ready?” George whispered to you, getting ready to walk one of the other bridesmaids down the aisle. He could tell something was wrong, but he didn’t want to push you. You nodded your head, sending your friend a thumbs up before it was his turn to make his walk.

“Ready?” asked a nearly identical voice to the one before. Fred stood behind you, his hair styled for once and his clothes neatly pressed and cleaned. He did clean up well, you had to admit. But, not that you would ever say this to anyone, you quite liked it better when he wasn’t wearing anything at all.

“I’m ready.” He linked his arm in yours, guiding you slowly down the dimly lit aisle.

Fred couldn’t help but steal a few glances at you. Your eyes were focused straight ahead, refusing to look at anything except the alter at the end of the walk. If you just made it to the end of the walk, everything would be ok. Everything would be over. But maybe Fred didn’t want everything to be over, just not yet. He sucked in a breath and decided to take a chance.

“What he did last night,” he whispered, slowing down as to elongate the conversation as much as possible.

“Stupid,” you muttered.

“Totally crazy stupid!” Fred got a few rude glances at his loud volume, so he checked himself before continuing. “I...I’m coming over tonight though, right?”

Your breath hitched in your chest. You were so close to the end of the aisle. You could ignore him and ignore whatever was going on between the two of you. It could all go back to normal, just a few more steps.

But your heart took over, and you said something that you knew future you might regret, but you didn’t care. It was worth the risk.

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

Fred squeezed your arm as you made your last steps to the front of the chapel, separating and taking your places in the rows of wedding participants.

You scanned the crowd, seeing Hermione fidgeting nervously in her seat. You felt awful for what she must be going through, but proud that she decided to accept it. Hermione was tough, that was for sure. She could handle anything.

“Friends. Family. We are gathered to celebrate here today the joyous union of Ron and Lavender. May the happiness we share with them today be with them always. Now Lavender, repeat after me. I, Lavender.”

“I, Lavender,” she said with a grin so big it looked like it would jump right off her face.

“Take thee Ron,” the minister continued.

“Take thee Ron.”

“As my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, till death parts us.”

She giggled and squeezed Ron’s hands tighter, mere seconds away from being united with the one she loved oh so much.

“Now Ron,” said the minister, turning to the groom. “Repeat after me. I Ron…”

George winked at him and Fred gestured for him to speak. No matter how much they teased their little brother, they were so proud of him for finding someone to spend the rest of his life with. “I Ron…”

“Take thee, Lavender…”

“Take thee, Hermione…”

Gasps filled the room. You covered your mouth and looked out to the crowd at Hermione, who looked as if she had seen a ghost. Fred and George started whispering frantically to each other and Molly seemed as if she was about to either faint or slap Ron into another country.

But nothing compared to Lavender’s reaction. She stood there, frozen, hands going numb in the grip of the person she thought loved her. The one who only thought of her. The one who chose her.

“Lavender!” Ron corrected, nervously chuckling in order to hide the growing humiliation. “Lavender.”

The minister looked between the bride and groom, having no idea where to go from there. “Uhh...shall I go on?”

Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off of Ron. He had just said her name. Her name. Not Lavender’s. Hers.

What was supposed to happen next?

Tag List: @fandomhideout @amourtentiaa

#abby’s week of weasley #fredweasley #fred #friends #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #fredweasleyfluff #harrypotter #fred weasley x y/n #fred x y/n #weasleys wizard wheezes #fredweasleyseries #fredweasleyimagine

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hermits-that-craft · 3 years

Text

Powers Au - Nurture

Foolish and Eret walk the streets of the city - L’Manburg, if they remember correctly. The pair of them don’t speak, Foolish’s blue-grey cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Snow falls to the ground, and Foolish shivers slightly. It’s been a few years since either of them had been in a place that has snows, though Eret’s always been able to cope with it better than Foolish.

Eret takes off her red cloak, pulling it around Foolish’s shoulders as they climb a fence. The building is derelict, abandoned, and has big red signs reading “WARNING: ASBESTOS. DO NOT ENTER” but beggars can’t be choosers, and the two orphans can’t afford be be mugged again. They can’t even afford to eat.

Foolish jumps over, following Eret into the decrepit building. He still shivers, but Eret’s cloak is soft, and retains the warmth that Eret put off. They always ran hot, suppressing their powers.

Both of them repress their powers. They know what would happen if someone found out what they can do. They’re only 12, they don’t want blood on their hands.

“Home sweet home.” Eret mumbles as they find a room, covered in old painting tarps. The door shuts and the window is boarded up, so Foolish pushes the rotting chest of drawers in front of the door, a temporary lock to keep them safe.

Foolish turns, looking at Eret as his ears twitch. Eret’s made a bed out of the paint tarps, smiling brightly. Foolish sighs, getting into the middle of the tarps. He takes the twin cloaks off, lying down. The cloaks work well as blankets, and the pair fall asleep.

---

Foolish ducks out of the abandoned house, looking for the richer suburbs. He never should have let Eret out by himself, they can’t afford the buy the bandages needed to mend Eret’s arm. They can’t afford to be separated either, so a hospital is a no-go. Who knows what would happen if the two orphans showed up?

Foolish follows a group of three with quiet steps. One has long, pink hair and a shirt that Foolish knows Eret would love, and he walks close to the road. He has a deep voice that screams arrogance. The one closest to the wall has a guitar over his shoulder and a yellow jumper on - even though it’s the middle of summer. The one in the middle, however, screams “power”. The man holds himself strongly, a pair of crows wings on his back. His suit is well made in a deep, forest green, and he carries a cane with gold on it. The cane alone would get Foolish some bandages for Eret, and enough food to last them a solid two weeks - maybe a month if they sell it instead of pawning it off.

The trio turns down an alleyway, and Foolish scurries after them. He ignores their conversation, reaching his hand out to grab the cane-

“Owch!” Foolish yelps, his arm twisted by the man with pink hair.

“What do you want?” The man growls, pulling Foolish away from the blonde one.

“My friend’s hurt, we need that cane!” Foolish struggles to get out of the mans hold. “He’s going to die! Please.”

“Techno...” The blonde one mumbles, glancing over Foolish.

“Who cares about some kids friend, the parents should be able to look after it.” The guitar one rebuts. “C’mon Phil, we’ve been here long enough. Tommy’s waiting at home.”

“Let the kid go, Techno.” Blondie - Phil, aparently - orders, and Foolish is shoved to the ground. “Run home kid, you don’t want to get mugged, do you?”

Oh, Foolish realises, his brain finally catching up, these are criminals.

Foolish dashes out of the alley, listening to the men laugh. He can’t - he refuses to be caught, to be mugged and killed in an alley because of a cane.

Foolish never looks over his shoulder, never turns his head to make sure he isn’t followed as he dashes through tight corners and over dingy bins. He quickly finds the asbestos house that he and Eret squat in, jumping the fence with practiced ease. Foolish shoots up the stairs and into their little bedroom, the door slamming open.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

---

Wilbur leans against the door, looking over the pair of children sleeping on a dirty tarp. The little thief that attempted to steal from Phil is curled up around a small kid with a clearly broken arm.

“Are they orphans?” Techno asks, his hand on his sword.

“Probably.” Wilbur shrugs, “Why’d Phil send us here.”

“Something about the kid’s eyes.” Techno shrugs. “Welp, I’m going to put them out of their misery.”

Techno walks over to the pair, his sword out. They were told to bring the thief alive, but the other is fair game. After all, they can’t have any witnesses, and any movement is going to make that one wake up. Techno’s sword touches the kids throat, and silver fire melts the sword, the kid suddenly awake.

Wilbur makes eye contact with the child, and sees that their eyes are pure white, glowing in the dark night. The thief wakes up as the fire spreads to Techno’s arm, and Wilbur feels paralysed, but if it’s fear or the kids powers he doesn’t know.

Techno’d dead in seconds, but those few seconds is enough for the thief to calm his friend down. The thief then walks over to Techno’s body, and Wilbur watches as golden water pours out of the boy’s eyes. The water - that’s way too much water what the fuck - surrounds Techno, and Wilbur’s twin shoots up, a strangled shout falling from his lips.

“Eret we talks about this.” The thief mumbles, though he keeps his back to his friend. “We promised no more of this.”

“He was trying to kill us.” the kid - Eret - mutters, glaring at Techno. “Is that the pink man who you tried to steal from.”

“I am.” Techno growls.

“Foolish, you promised you weren’t followed!” Eret says, panic in his voice.

“How do you two feel about a job?” Wilbur asks, putting some of his power into his voice. Gold eyes glaze over, and Eret’s white eyes go glassy.

----

“Get up.” Foolish spits out blood, holding his chest as Techno looms over him. “How do you expect to survive out there if you can’t win a simple fight.”

“I don’t need to survive ‘out there’.” Foolish snaps back. “I’m twelve. You said that we’d be going home. Why would ‘home’ be dangerous?”

“Because you and Eret are far too powerful.” Philza says, leaning against the door. “And anywhere you will settle will be dangerous. Eret’s undergoing similar training as well.”

“If we’re ‘too powerful’, than we should be able to just fight using our powers.”

“And be forced to kill and revive people?” Philza snaps, and Foolish flinches back, his eyes wide. “You haven’t even shown us what your powers can do. You both are holding out on us. We will get answers. Start again.”

Foolish stands, holding his arms up weakly. He’s not going to win. Not unless he snaps.

---

“Are those children?” Puffy asks Sam as the pair of them watch the Syndicate escape.

“Looks like it.” Sam turns to face his friend, before sighing. “Puffy, they look about Dream’s age, maybe younger.”

“Younger?”

“Puffy, calm down.” Sam puts his hand on her shoulders. “I’m sure that they’re fine.”

“It’s the syndicate. They’re being manipulated.”

“I’m not saying that they aren’t.” Sam agrees. “But you have to understand - we can’t save everyone, we have to wait for them to come to us.”

“I never want to fight children.”

“You used to.”

“Because I was one.” Puffy points out. “And you’re no better! You started younger then me, the only reason we aren’t in prison for vigilantism is because we were kids!”

“If they’re arrested they’ll be forgiven.”

“They won’t, Sam. It took years for Dream to be forgiven and he was nine.” Puffy points out, and Sam sighs.

“I’ll try and find the two so you can help them, okay? Stop being a mother hen.”

---

Foolish and Eret wander the streets, finally being allowed out without a handler. Well, it’s less that they’re allowed out, and more that the three men who could actually stop them have to attend a meeting, so they jumped out of the window and ran.

They aren’t running away, they know what happens to those who run. They’re just going back to their old house. They just want to see what’s happened to it.

If Foolish has to repeat that to Eret a few times, well then, that’s their buisness.

“Hello.” A woman says brightly. She has brown hair with blonde bangs, and a kind smile. “Are you two lost? You look confused.”

“We’re good.” Eret says, stepping in front of Foolish. The woman frowns, giving them a once over.

“Well, I’m Niki.” The woman sticks out her hand. “If you ever need me, I’m just in the bakery. I’ve heard the syndicate is around, I’d hate for you both to be kidnapped. There are rumours...” Niki swallows, giving them a nervous smile. “I lost my younger brother to them, I’d hate for anyone to loose you both.”

Foolish and Eret exchange a glance with eachother, before Eret gives Niki a large smile.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”

---

Foolish screams as he watches Eret get hit again, the sickening crack of the cane breaking Eret’s legs and Eret’s silent sobs rips the teens chest apart. Phil stands over Eret’s limp body, blood on his cane and dress pants. Phil lifts his cane again, and Foolish screams, struggling in Techno’s grip.

“You shouldn’t have run.” Wilbur says as Phil’s cane hits Eret’s already broken legs. “This is your punishment. We told you that this would happen.”

“Not them!” Foolish begs, golden tears falling from his tear ducts. “Please, hurt me, not them.”

“Watching is your punishment.” Wilbur shrugs. “Do you think she needs to get hit again, Dad? I’m thinking another ten hits for Foolish’s outburst.”

“No, please, no more.” Foolish begs, his legs giving out underneath him.

“Twenty.” Phil says, his cane hooking under Foolish’s chin. The Syndicate’s leader lift’s Foolish’s head up to look him in the eyes. “If you loose count, we start again.”

---

“I’m sorry.” Foolish repeats, bandaging Eret’s legs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“We need to leave.” Eret mumbles. “Niki. We need to escape. You need to escape.”

“Not without you.” Foolish swears. “Never without you.”

“They’re using you for your powers.” Eret wipes the tears from Foolish’s eyes. “You go. Get out. I’ll wait for you.”

Eret takes a small pendant out of their pocket; a little gold, winged angel with emeralds for eyes; and presses it into Foolish’s hands. Eret called it his ‘totem of undying’, the only thing her parents left her. Foolish’s eyes widen, tears forming.

“I can’t-”

“Live for us.” Eret begs him. “I’ll see you soon. Live for us, Foolish. I’ll wait for you. You know that.”

Foolish presses his forehead to Eret’s. A gold streak forms in Eret’s hair, and silver coats Foolish’s forehead. Foolish opens the window, a silent promise on his lips as the life drains from Eret’s body, and Foolish disappears into the night.

----

Puffy sits in Niki’s cafe, her head on the counter. The store is closed, but Puffy sits, coffee in her hands, groaning into the bench.

“One of those nights, huh?” Niki asks quietly. “I thought you had today off.”

“Dream’s at Schlatt’s.” Puffy mumbles. “He told me to ‘have a date night’, like i have someone to go on a date with.”

“Well, I’m always free.” Niki winks at the woman, a bright red blush coats the heroines face.

“Shut up!” Puffy says, throwing her mask at Niki.

The pair laugh for a moment, the air relaxed, before a crashing noise shatters their carefully manicured peace. The door to the cafe is open, a teenager sprawled on the floor. Niki gasps, quickly jumping the counter to get to him, as Puffy recognises the boy.

Though his forehead is an unnatural, metalic silver, and his eyes fading from gold to emerald green, this is undoubtably one of the children that Puffy had seen with the Syndicate. And now he’s lying on the floor, gold tears and red blood staining his body.

“They killed her,” He gasps, looking at Niki. “Please miss Niki, they killed her.”

“Who did?” Niki asks, and Puffy’s heart lodges itself in her throat.

“The Syndicate.”

---

The next few months passed by in a blur. Eret wasn’t found, and no statement or taunt was released by the Syndicate, so if Eret truely died that night, Foolish wouldn’t know. How many times does Eret have to die for him?

Ponk says that he’s in shock, and that since he had just escaped what is basically a kidnapping, he’d be in limbo for a while. Puffy and Niki both seem to recognise that limbo is actually just ‘a mental hospital because his mind is shattered beyond repair’, but Foolish doesn’t want to believe it.

Sure, he knows it’s true but he doesn’t want to believe it.

So when Callahan, one of Puffy’s friends, comes in carrying Eret on his back, the shock alone is enough to break Foolish from his trance. Eret’s legs are bent at an odd angle, and they’re covered in blood, but they’re alive.

The gold is cut from their hair, and there are bruises on their face, but they’re alive.

Niki follows Callahan in, a dangerous look in her eyes and blood on her shirt. Foolish can tell it’s not Eret’s, so he doesn’t pay it too much mind.

“Niki are you-”

“It’s the Syndicate’s.” She says blankly. “Fix Eret, Ponk. I don’t want to see that kid hurt again, so fix him up.”

And then Eret is gone from Foolish’s gaze, though Callahan and Niki stay. The deer hybrid lies down besides him, and Niki holds his hands as they wait.

Foolish doesn’t know if he likes being aware.

---

“You promise we’ll be allowed to see each other?” Eret asks, his hand clutched in Foolish’s, and Puffy’s heart shatters. These kids, these children have been hurt so much, and are so dependant on each other, that the idea of seperating them hurts.

“Of course.” Puffy promises, and Callahan nods. “We won’t seperate you, but the therapist says that the pair of you being so co-dependant is unhealthy. That why Callahan and I aren’t having a custody battle at the moment.”

What does that therapist know, anyways, Puffy grumbles to herself. These two shouldn’t be seperated.

“Promise?��

“I promise.” Puffy nods, and the pair relax. They hug for a moment, lingering as though that moment will be their last, before Callahan and Eret hop into their car, and drive away from Puffy’s home.

Hopefully Dream will like Foolish.

---

Foolish likes Dream. He’s a fun older brother to have, if he’s completely honest. And his friends are strange, but fun. If Foolish had to be honest, though, he wishes that he didn’t have to cover for his brother so often. There are only so many times Foolish can distract Puffy before she eventually realises that he other teen is up to no good.

Not that Foolish thinks the woman is fooled, but still.

Foolish watches as Dream spits out blood, leaning on Foolish’s bedroom door, and the teen knows this is something he has to tell Puffy.

“Don’t you dare.” Dream warn, but Foolish just grins nervously.

“MUM! DREAM’S HURT!”

“You bitch!” Dream groans, but Foolish doesn’t feel bad, turning back to his computer. Foolish listens as his mother runs into the room, fretting over her eldest son.

Foolish gives Dream a once over, and he spies the relief on his brother’s face as their mother looks after him.

---

“Mum, come on.” Foolish complains, leaning dramatically on Puffy’s side. “You promised we’d leave in an hour”

“That was 15 minutes ago.” Puffy rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to be late to see Eret if we leave in 45 minutes.”

“But what if they’re early, or there’s traffic.”

“It is the middle of the night on a Wednesday. There’s no traffic.” Puffy laughs. “And we’re picking up Eret, too.”

“C’mon, Fool.” Dream says, pulling on his jacket. “Just cause you want to see your partner-”

“I don’t like what you’re implying there”

“-Doesn’t mean that we have to leave right now.” Dream finishes, pinching Foolish’s cheek.

“Eret and I aren’t dating.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“So, you and George are?” Foolish quips back. “I mean you like him more than I like Eret.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, Mum needs to take us to the light show!”

“Boys! That’s enough!” Puffy says, laughing. “Okay, we’ll go now.”

---

Foolish watches as the fire licks at the apartment building, Eret and he having decided to go for a walk. They don’t dare step any closer - villains who set buildings on fire are dangerous to be caught by.

“Foolish,” Eret gasps, his hand over his mouth. “that’s Dream.”

And Foolish’s heart shatters, as he watches his brother put a sword through their mother’s stomach.

---

Foolish refuses to leave Puffy’s side, and Eret refuses to leave his, for the entire duration fo Puffy’s healing process. Cold anger washes over Foolish at the mention of his brothers betrayal, the betrayal too close, too personal. As though it had happened before. As though Puffy didn’t pour her heart and soul into making sure that Dream and Foolish were better people than the men who moulded them into weapons.

It takes Eret reminding Foolish that he’d become everything he hated to stop Foolish from hunting down his parricidal brother and killing the traitor himself.

Puffy and Callahan talk, Callahan’s hands moving too quick for Foolish to keep up with, and Puffy’s voice too quiet for him to decipher. He wants to know, Eret wants to know what the parents are talking about, but they have to ‘be patient’ and ‘not eavesdrop’.

The pair have vastly improved on the patience front since they were adopted.

Puffy walks into the room, Sam and Callahan - when did Sam arrive? - walking behind her.

“As I think we all know, you’re both aproximately seventeen, right?” Puffy begins, nervously looking to Sam and Callahan for support. “I want to give you both the opportunity to become heroes. I’ve spoken to our boss, he’s willing to let you both join early if you want to. It’s a free ride through university and you can live in the tower or here and-”

“What Puffy is trying to say, is that you’re both good people, and we want to give you access to the opportunities we had.” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

Eret and Foolish exchange glances, smiles on their faces.

“We’d love to.”

#powers au #mcyt super powers #long post

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," wakko?

Wakko never thought of himself as a worrier. He always held out hope that somehow, someway everything would work out- that Good would prevail and Evil would fall. He believed with all his heart it was his and his sibling’s destiny to defeat Salazar. He knew Dot was going to get better, and that Yakko would finally be able to relax for more than just five minutes.

However... being on his own for the first time challenged that.

He had taken the baker’s advice and went straight to the apprenticeship with the blacksmith. It had been excruciatingly difficult, and Wakko put a lot of blood sweat, and tears into the work he did. He had been revolted to find out that he was only paid a ha’penny a week. Sending letters had cost at least three ha’pennies so by the end of week one, he had had to get crafty.

He ‘borrowed’ paper from the blacksmith and wrote as neat and concise as he could manage before putting in the one ha’penny and the letter in an envelope (also ‘borrowed’ from the blacksmith) and snuck it into the mailman’s bag when he wasn’t looking. As for how he got food, he would take a piece of fruit or bread from the man when he wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t easy to do though, the blacksmith was a good person; he was stoic and old, hardly ever talked, except the occasional warning to Wakko that he shouldn’t touch or eat something, despite how delicious it looked. He was patient, though at the same time very distant. It was hard for Wakko to read him.

However, Wakko had gotten too comfortable too fast, as he had gotten caught stealing the blacksmith’s food and he fired him, said it was “a betrayal of his trust”. His words had stung Wakko, and he left without fighting, but not without taking a few pieces of paper and envelopes- Yakko and Dot would kill him if he didn’t write.

The letters.

Wakko thought he would love writing them, but it got harder and harder the more time passed. Wakko embellished how he was doing a lot, but he could tell Yakko wasn’t being entirely honest either. His words were fancy and he tended to dance around questions Wakko had asked. Wakko wished he had the energy and paper to argue with him, but he didn’t. He hated being lied to, but they quite literally couldn’t afford to bring it up.

After he got fired, he wandered and worked as an errand boy for a senile, but wealthy woman. He didn’t like it though- she was rude and she constantly spat on him, or hit him with her cane, which left him with nasty bruises.

He was almost thankful when she dropped dead one day.

He stole as much silverware, stamps, papers, and envelopes as he could fit into his hat before he alerted anyone of what had happened.

Still- seeing a corpse hadn’t been... pleasant.

It reminded him that, yes, death was a thing and was inescapable and could happen to his little sister at any moment while he was gone.

Needless to say, he did his best not to dwell on that, and sold all of the silverware as soon as possible and gave almost all the money to Yakko in the letter he wrote.

That should help delay Death for a while... hopefully, Yakko could buy her a new blanket, or a shawl. She always got so cold in the winter with just her skirt.

Wakko then went to work as a berry picker at the farm of an old cat couple with a few other children his age, though none of them liked talking. However, he only worked there for the month of May because he had gotten fired once they found out he had been eating more berries than he turned in. Wakko was hungry, and the farmers didn’t pay him enough for him to afford enough food anyway, Wakko thought that was bull.

However, he quickly regretted that decision when he had gotten a letter from Yakko that admitted that Dot was going through another rough patch. His brother wrote that he and Dot missed him a whole awful lot, but that they weren’t giving up yet. At least that was nice...

Still, Wakko couldn’t help but feel guilty. His selfishness had gotten him fired from two jobs, and because of that, his siblings were suffering. Sometimes he wished he could just magically fix everything with the snap of his fingers, but he knew that wasn't how it worked. If it was, he would’ve done it already.

After that, he was determined to find a job that would stick. Unfortunately, that was only getting more difficult, as the town that had once been not quite prospering still functioning well enough was starting to fall apart due to the King’s taxes only rising. The only good thing that came out of that was that prices were starting to lower which meant that if he could find a spare coin on the ground, he could probably actually afford something. However, that also meant jobs were going down, and so it was damned near impossible to find something to do.

Wakko had spent a whole month without a job. He lived on the street and picked up fallen coins and didn’t write- couldn’t write- a single letter. The last one he had sent had been about the farm, and he had lied and told Yakko it had burned down so he couldn't write to there anymore. Wakko could imagine how worried Dot and Yakko must’ve been. The thought of their worry kept him up at night.

Still.

A little voice in his head told him not to give up, that he come to far to call it quits now. He promised he’d return in a year, and that’s what he’d do.

“Bravery is not the absence of fear, it’s doing something in spite of it.”

Wakko had a vague memory of someone telling him that a very long time ago, but he couldn’t recall who.

During the late summer, he had worked different jobs every day. Some days, he’d deliver packages for a fraction of what the king’s mail delivery costed, others he’d return library books, and on some, he’d shine shoes. It was exhausting to run around for days on an empty stomach, but somehow he managed to scrape on by with just enough money to send to Yakko and Dot and survive.

Despite the feeling that summer would last forever, autumn arrived and it was the harvesting season. Wakko had heard that farms were in need of help, and he went off to go work at the pumpkin farm that was just a few miles out from town. Wakko had been delighted when he heard about the opportunity and had run seven miles to get there before anyone else. The farmer, a middle-aged Rabbit, had been pleased with his enthusiasm but warned him that he couldn’t pay much and that most of his payment would be in food and shelter, but Wakko didn’t care. He hated sleeping in alleys with a passion and swore never to do that again. Plus, he knew Yakko and Dot were probably pissed at him for not writing for several months, not giving him an address to write to, or anything. Plus, Wakko was not going to pass up on an opportunity for someone else to pay for his food.

However, he had thought working on a farm during the spring was hard, autumn was much, much harder. The town where he worked somehow managed to get more snow than Acme Falls, and earlier, so he often had to wake up before the sun rose and attempt to “fight off the freeze” as the farmer called it. Wakko didn’t care what it was called, it was agonizing. He ended up with blisters and sore arms and had even cut himself on the ax he used to chop branches quite a few times.

However, none of that mattered when he read the letters Yakko and Dot sent. Wakko hadn’t realized just how much he had missed them until he saw their handwriting on the paper in his hand.

Dot had apparently gone through another rough patch during the time Wakko couldn’t write but had gotten much better, even being able to go out of the ‘house’ and take walks by the river. Yakko wrote that Dot still missed him terribly, and was really mad that he hadn’t written in forever. Yakko then went on a tangent about how much it had worried him, but that he was still relieved and happy that Wakko was safe and okay.

Wakko’s reply had been full of apologies and embellished about his current situation (saying things like ‘i have an actual bed and it’s really comfortable’ and ‘the food is amazing’ and ‘i barely have to work at all’ and ‘I haven’t even hurt myself once!’). He didn’t want to worry Yakko any more than he already had.

In truth, the farmer wasn’t a very nice person, though he was nice enough to provide shelter and food for Wakko and the few others that worked alongside him. However, he did get annoyed when Wakko injured himself, and didn’t provide bandages, so Wakko would have to make do by tearing up pieces of his pillowcase. Soon enough, he tore it all up and there was no more pillow, which hadn’t been fun for sleeping. He also shouted and swore a lot, but Wakko mostly tuned it out, having had good practice after the senile dead lady.

Still, a job was a job, and Wakko wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. He was able to keep up his promise with one ha’penny being sent home every two weeks, which Yakko noted was becoming “more and more useful in Acme Falls, as the economy was clearly in shambles”, whatever that meant.

Unfortunately, the harvest came to an end sooner than Wakko had hoped and he was back on the streets in the blink of an eye. He had a few survival strategies he had picked up from observing his older brother over the years, but surviving on the streets in the snow was a lot, a lot harder than surviving on the streets, not during the snow.

And even more unfortunately, there were little to no jobs available anymore. The only ones that were available required him to walk far distances in the snow even during snowstorms. Of course, he took them, but they were grueling and made every muscle in his body ache.

And so he resorted to his least favorite solution: stealing.

Whenever he’d walk past the market, he’d snatch an apple or a loaf of bread if he could manage and hide it in his package until it was safe and he could eat it. He stole matches so he could start fires in the garbage. He stole books that belonged to the library for kindling for said fires. He felt insanely guilty every time, but no matter what way he looked at it, there was no other option.

His main motivator had been survival. He knew he needed enough money for a ticket home in December, but knew that that’d be near impossible if he attempted to pay for his own things- especially with the taxes taking nearly all of the money he had earned with doing the jobs- and god only knew how guilty he had felt that he hadn’t been able to send any money home for Dot. Still... he figured coming home would be an at least okay replacement.

He hoped.

He wrote letters but didn’t give return addresses, fearing what Yakko would say again. He knew he must’ve been outraged that Wakko hadn’t written or sent money in awhile, and he prayed Dot was doing okay and that they didn’t need the money he wasn’t able to get.

He didn’t have the heart to write about his worries about not being able to come home after all...

Wakko shivered as he thought of that, before snapping back into reality realizing where he was. He had an awful tendency of getting distracted while he was doing errands, it was a problem.

Especially if he was trying to focus on nabbing some food. If he didn’t focus, he was likely to get caught.

Shaking his head to get back to the present, he looked around and saw an empty stall selling some type of fruit he hadn’t seen before, but figured it’d be enough. He casually sauntered on over there, and began to walk past before snatching one with his tail and quickly putting it into the box of books he was returning to the library for an old dog man.

“Hey! Kid!” Wakko froze when he heard a voice behind him. He peeked over his shoulder and saw it was the man who owned the booth.

“Stop right there!” He shouted. Wakko bolted.

He ran through the crowded market, but unfortunately for him, he slipped on some ice on the path and came crashing to the ground, books going flying everywhere, and his fruit was squashed to a pulp.

“Hey-! Kid- are you alright?” The man’s anger faded into concern and Wakko muttered to himself and trying to gather his stuff, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and stinging in his-likely scraped- knee. Eventually, he heard the man approach him, but to his surprise, he started helping Wakko put the books back into the box. Wakko didn’t look at him much, but could feel the man giving him pitiful looks.

“Look- I know what you’re gonna say and you’re wrong. I-i... I swear that I’m a good kid, okay?” Wakko sniffled as he put a blue-colored book down.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort,” the man replied, handing Wakko a green book. Wakko took it hesitantly, still not willing to look him in the eyes.

“I was going to offer you some more of that fruit you took, but you ran in such a hurry, I couldn’t get my words out,” He said. Wakko didn’t know if he believed that.

“I-i just need enough money for my sister and a train ticket...” Wakko mumbled. The man nodded.

“You got family?” He asked. Wakko nodded.

“Sister and brother in Acme Falls,” he said.

“That’s quite a ways away. I suppose you came here for work but that ain’t working out well, is it?” He asked. Wakko frowned and didn’t answer. He wasn’t liking his tone...

“Here, I’ll give you a bag of clementines if you’ll let me. I can even help you with those books if you need,” The man said, standing.

“I can take care of myself,” Wakko scowled, but realized that was probably a really stupid thing to say. He was starving...

“B-but I’ll take the clementines...” Wakko added. The man nodded, and stood up, and headed back to his booth. Wakko did his best to ignore the looks the crowd was giving him as he followed.

“Here you go, sixteen clementines. That should do you good for quite some time. Oh- and here,” The man dug under his booth and Wakko stood awkwardly with his tongue sticking out.

“This should get you a train ticket, and hopefully enough left over for those siblings of yours,” he said, handing Wakko a little brown sack. Wakko gawked at it.

“I-i can’t accept all this. I’m sure you need it,” Wakko refused.

“Nonsense. I got all the clementines I could want. And besides, I don’t need to ride on a train to return to my family any time soon,” He waved it off.

“B-but the king’s taxes-”

“I know how to make due. I know you need the money, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll accept,” He pointed at Wakko, and Wakko realized he wasn’t wrong. He just wished he could do something for the man in return, but knew he couldn’t.

“Th-thanks mister... it’s been a really long time since someone’s been this nice to me,” he looked at the ground.

“No problem kiddo. Stay safe out there, winter is a dangerous time. Might want to bandage that knee of yours,” He pointed to Wakko’s bleeding knee. Wakko nodded.

“Thanks, will do, mister,” he said, grabbing the sack of clementines, putting it in the box with the books, and put the little brown bag of money in his hat. He then waved goodbye and headed on to finish his task, get paid, them immediately lose said payment to taxes, but smiled internally. The tax collector didn’t know about the money in his hat, so he didn’t collect it.

It looked like Wakko was going to be able to come home after all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

#animaniacs #my fics #wakko warner #wakkos wish #yakko warner #dot warner

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finiffy · 3 years

Note

Another headcanon, but I don’t think Mikell became a foundation agent because it was expected of the family or wanting to follow in his parents’ footsteps or anything like that; it was because of money.

He was a high school dropout, still not even an adult yet, working 2-3 jobs and supplementing with shoplifting and whatever charity he could guilt out of their neighbours, and it was still just not enough to keep himself and three younger siblings afloat. Then he’s approached by the foundation cause he’s relatively fit and has a good handle on guns and with who his parents are it’s not considered a risk, and all he can find himself looking at in the paperwork is the salary amount. Claire is just old enough that he can get her into the youngest level of schooling if he fudges her paperwork a bit. If he can get his siblings up in the morning, send them off to school, and each has an after-school activity of some kind, that gives him 6-7 hours of time before he has to go pick them up and the foundation says they can work with that limitation.

What they don’t mention are the nightmares that start waking him up in a cold sweat, the way it gets harder to touch his siblings because he feels like he’ll taint them, the time Jack found him washing his hands over and over and over again at the sink at 2am in a trance until his skin was red raw and Mikell doesn’t even remember getting out of bed. But he can’t quit, because for the first time in a very very long time, all their bills are somewhat up to date, he was able to get clothing for his siblings that wasn’t repaired hand-me-downs, they finally can afford enough food that he doesn’t have to skip meals to make sure the others get enough to eat. So he stays quiet and toughs it out. Because, what other choice does he have?

Holy shit AAA. I think once Mikell started to be able to get money and able to buy better things for his siblings it felt like it a normal family but Jack of course knew something was up. They are getting way more expensive things than what Mikell could have afford even if he saved up for months. And the fact he sees Mikell's personality change so much and how jumpy he's become. Jack tried so many times asking where all of this money is coming from because it is terrifying him, Tj and Claire are happy about getting new things and so is Jack but not in the expense of his brother changing so much. He wants to stop Mikell from doing whatever he was doing to get all this money cause it was clearly hurting Mikell but it was the first time in their lives where they didn't have to eat scraps or steal or be huddled up together shivering to keep warm in the night. So he doesn't say anything.

Jack tries so hard to graduate as fast as he can, get a good job, be there to share the burden for Mikell so he could once in his life to just relax and to take care of himself instead of worrying about them

#ask #anon #this is a great headcanon and im taking it #long post #bs story

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mostfacinorous · 4 years

Text

Stoki Whumptober Day 22: Do These Tacos Taste Funny To You? [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21]

As the day dawned and they considered their options, Loki sent tentative tendrils of power towards the stone.

It was recovering-- that much was clear, but it wasn’t anywhere close to being usable.

“This will take several days.” He announced shortly.

Rogers looked up from the fire, frowning. He seemed to have recovered some of his lost body heat, and nearly all of his wandering wits.

“Not much choice, is there? So what should we do?”

Loki pondered.

“We have a few priorities. The first should be sustenance, I think. Food-- preferably meat, if we can manage to trap anything. Then, shelter. What we made in a few hours yesterday was a start, but it is nowhere near enough to keep you alive, and my powers are low from keeping the heat around you.

Rogers looked startled.

“Wait-- what did you do?”

Loki cocked his head, then huffed a little laugh, feeling sheepish. He’d thought it would be obvious, but apparently Rogers had been too out of his mind to realize.

“It’s no matter. I kept the heat close, that’s all. Without food and rest, I will not be able to do it again, and so we should make an effort to secure both food and a place that will support us for the next few days.”

Rogers nodded. “What’s the best way to do that?”

Loki thought back to hunts and adventures, and adjusted for his current state-- tired, magically weak, and Rogers, human, though extraordinary for one.

“A den.” He decided. “We dig down before we build up, and that will be easier if we can find an area with good snow drift.” He glanced at Rogers’s hands, remembering how stiff and red they’d been the night prior.

“Perhaps I should take the lead on that. Do you know anything about tracking or trapping?”

Rogers shook his head apologetically. “The woods isn’t really my forte-- even back in the war, we just carried rations with us.”

Loki sighed.

“Alright. Shelter first, then. It will, I think, be the most pressing of our needs. And maybe we can build upon what we already have, rather than starting anew.”

This was less than ideal, of course, but they’d make it through. As long as they could keep Rogers warm enough, even if they found no food, they would last three days. This would all be fine.

Loki’s first act was to find two trees near enough to one another that they could lay the trees they felled between them, stacking them almost like weaving, to form a wall, and wedging more trees in at an angle, to form a triangular shape. It was, again, not wind proof, but he hoped to get it closer to that before night fall.

Once the walls were tall enough to allow them to walk inside while bent over, they switched to installing something of a roof-- simply more trees laid across.

“All these trees we’re tearing down-- it’s not going to affect the timeline, will it?” Rogers asked, when they’d nearly finished with their labour, as it grew to early afternoon.

Loki shrugged.

“It may have some effect, though who knows what… and it probably doesn’t do to dwell on it. We have little enough choice.”

Loki showed the Captain how to scrape off the snow and find the wet leaves and pine needles beneath. “This is to fill the gaps between the logs. Can you work on this, while I search for food? Take breaks and warm your hands by the fire when they grow uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Stay close though-- within hearing range.”

“Of course.” Loki wasn’t sure whether the Captain was more concerned for himself or for Loki, but given what he knew of them man, he thought it was likely the latter.

Sweet fool.

Loki wished he’d taken the time earlier to fashion and set traps, but he’d chosen to prioritize otherwise, and so that left him likely needing to use what was left of his power for the day on food.

He managed to use his Jotun eyes to find a rabbit’s burrow, and uncovered three fat rabbits for dinner. Satisfied they would have something, he began next to forage, finding a few mushrooms he was familiar with on tree trunks, low to the ground.

He wished he had a pot; a stew would be immensely satisfying given the temperatures, and being able to melt snow and drink it warm would warm them very effectively, but he was making do with what they had, and so spits over the fire would have to do.

He was careful not to cook the meat too long, unwilling to lose the animal’s fat to the flames, and passed two of them to Rogers to sup on.

“Is that gonna be enough for you?” The Captain asked, nodding towards Loki’s own meal.

“I found a few mushrooms, I’ll round it out with that and it will be plenty.” Loki assured him, opening the small satchel he’d made out of the hem of his cape, tied up and around itself.

The mushrooms, he had to admit, didn’t sound as appealing as the meat, but they would help him to feel more full. And it seemed to satisfy Rogers, who began tucking into his food with a voracity that Loki hadn’t expected. He wondered if his body, superior to the rest of his species, made superior demands of him as well. He was glad, suddenly, that he’d chosen to divide up the food that way. And with any luck the meat would help him feel warmer overnight.

They finished their supper and settled into their new lodgings, watching as the sun dropped behind the trees and slowly all light faded but that of the fire. Loki kept that built high enough to warm the space, and was gratified to find the set up holding heat much better than last night’s had.

He was just beginning to settle in when the first of the cramps hit him.

At first he thought little of the discomfort, but as it grew, he found himself clutching at his middle and wiping sweat from his brow.

“Are you… Loki? What’s wrong?” The Captain moved closer, clearly alarmed, and Loki waved him off.

“Perhaps the meat was undercooked.” He said, feeling slightly miserable about it.

“If that was the case, I should be feeling it too. What about the mushrooms? You know which ones are safe, right?”

Loki groaned. “I thought I did-- there must be some differences to Asgardian ones.”

Well, that would explain his current state.

“I should-- ah, go purge them.” Loki began to crawl towards the exit, and Rogers moved to follow. Loki stopped him.

“I will not freeze to death in my efforts-- you might. And, if you don’t mind… I’d rather you not see me like this.”

Rogers did not appear impressed.

“What happens if you pass out, or get lost, or if it gets worse and you can’t make it back?”

“Then you come look for me in the morning. I mean it, Rogers-- stay with the fire.”

The Captain glanced away, his lips going thin.

“I told you to call me Steve.” he said, and Loki sighed, glad that he was giving ground to Loki’s argument in favor of complaining about what he was called.

“Steve, then. Let me handle this myself. I’ll return as soon as I feel up to it.”

Rogers pushed a hand through his hair distractedly.

“Alright, but I’m not waiting til morning. If you’re not back by the time this log burns down, I’m coming looking for you.”

Loki glanced at the fire. That didn’t give him long, and if he had any hope of retaining his dignity-- his stomach cramped again, and made a sound like a restless beast.

“Fine.” he said quickly. “I will walk in a straight line from the door into the woods. But if it comes to it, I imagine at some point you should be able to smell me.”

He wrinkled his nose and climbed out into the cold, fully prepared to use the dregs of his magic to speed the process of emptying his stomach, if he must.

He could not say he was looking forward to it.

---

Some hours later, Loki returned to the shelter, shaking with exhaustion, and sore from the day’s exertions, and ready to simply curl up and rest, at long last. Rogers was still awake, waiting for him and staring into the flames, and though he’d wrapped himself in Loki’s cape, he was glad to see he didn’t appear to be as poorly off as he had been the night before.

“Hey,” he greeted. “You doing okay?”

Loki huffed.

“Well, I feel a good deal less like dying.” Though he did not mention that it had smelled for a bit like he had done, out there.

Rogers laughed a little, sounding surprised. “Glad to hear it, I guess. Here.” He lifted his arm, creating an opening in the cape that Loki supposed he was meant to crawl into.

“What?” Loki asked.

“I figure-- it’s cold. We should share body heat. Especially if you’re feeling sick-- we can’t afford for you to get worse.”

It was Loki’s turn to laugh, though there was panic hidden under it. The Captain was sweet, but a fool.

“Do you suppose I withstand the cold better because I run warmer than you?” Loki asked archly. “I am cold-blooded, Captain. I would only steal your heat. I have none to share.”

“Steve.” He corrected quickly, then shook his head. “I don’t care. As long as… if being warmer would help you, you should share my heat. You’re shivering.”

And Loki realized it was true; he was exhausted, drained both physically and magically, and his sleep had been cut short the night prior with watching over Steve.

He didn’t have the energy left to argue, and so worked his way around the fire to sit beside Steve, ducking under his own cape for warmth.

“If I make you cold, though-- you must tell me.” Loki cautioned.

“Alright. And if there’s anything I can do to help, you hafta tell me. Deal?”

“I suppose it must be.” Loki found himself leaning into the heat, and did not flinch when Steve’s arm curled around his shoulder to pull him closer, though it was a close thing.

#Stoki Whumptober2020 #Stoki #Frostshield #Capfrost #Steve x loki #Loki x Steve #Whumptober #That writing thing I do

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finduilasclln · 4 years

Note

Stony prompt for number 39 ;)

Prompt : “Hey! I was gonna eat that!”

Pairing: Steve/Tony

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff

~~~Tony’s been out of the room for a good half hour when he walks back in to find Bucky finishing up what was left of Tony’s dessert.

“Hey!” Tony calls out, pocketing his phone as he strides up to Bucky. “I was gonna eat that!”

“Sorry man,” Bucky says around the last mouthful of leftover chocolate cake and Steve can’t help but snigger until he notices that Tony’s face is far from amused. “I thought you weren’t coming back.” Bucky adds bewildered, clearly noticing Tony’s demeanor as well.

“That was a business call,” Tony snaps, glaring down at Bucky who’s still seated at the table and is staring up at Tony with wide eyes. “I had to take it,” Tony goes on, curt. “That doesn’t mean you can just…” He scoffs. “Some of us have to work for a living, to afford all this for all of you. We can’t just all mooch off of - ”

“Whoa, Tony,” Steve says hurriedly, interrupting him, his chair scraping back over the dining room floor as he stands. “That’s a bit unfair.”

“Unfair?” Tony asks, his voice sharp and not at all like Steve is used to. “I step away for two minutes and I forfait all rights to my food?”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, his shoulders now stiff and his jaw clenched. He’s avoiding Tony’s eyes, and Steve can’t help but feel sorry for his friend, because he knows how much he tries to avoid conflict nowadays. And how much he’s tried to befriend Tony ever since he moved into the compound, despite how hard it’s been given the history between them. “I thought you’d finished your call and gone to your workshop or something. I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Come on, Tony,” Steve says softly, searching out Tony’s gaze. “We weren’t expecting you back. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Tony lets out a humorless snort. There’s a certain anguish over his face that Steve isn’t used to seeing, and that he definitely doesn’t like on Tony’s face.

“Bucky asked,” Natasha pipes in, giving Tony a look. “We all told him to go for it.”

“Right,” Tony says, nodding. As well as he knows Tony, Steve can’t quite figure out why on earth he is acting this way all of a sudden. The entire blow-up seems completely out of proportion, and while Tony is prone to heated arguments, this one seems unreasonable at best.

“Hey, I can go down to the mess,” Bucky says as he gets up off his chair, a hopeful look on his face. “Maybe there’s something good left in the fridges that I can go and steal for you.”

“Right,” Tony says, but he’s already turning towards the door. His voice has a bite to it as he says, before leaving the room, “‘cause you’re good at stealing things from under people’s noses, aren’t you?”

***

Steve and Tony have had their fair share of arguments, but Steve has always been able to see Tony’s point of view on things. He doesn’t always agree, but Tony has never been unreasonable like he’s been today. It’s taken Steve by surprise, the little outburst in the kitchen, the snide comments at Bucky…

Steve knows that Tony and Bucky don’t exactly have the easiest past. But after the initial tough start, Tony really went above and beyond to make things right between him and Bucky, much to Bucky’s surprise. Bucky didn’t feel like he deserved Tony’s forgiveness at first, but Steve had told him that that was just the kind of guy Tony was. The kind of guy Steve had grown to know and love. He had a good heart, and it had been such a relief to Steve when Tony and Bucky started getting along. Tony even invited Bucky to come live at the compound. Well, he didn’t do the inviting himself, but he urged Steve to, saying he knew how much it would mean to Steve to have his best friend move in, and reassuring Steve that he was okay with it.

The last few months, since Bucky moved in, have been great. Steve feels like he’s got the best of his both worlds combined, his new family in the Avengers and his lifelong best friend all in the same place, getting along. Especially now that Bucky is on the mend and settling in nicely with everyone.

Until Tony went and freaked out about Bucky eating the rest of his dessert, that is…

Which is why Steve is currently knocking on Tony’s workshop door, and getting no answer.

“FRIDAY,” Steve sighs, even though he already knows the answer. “He’s in there, isn’t it?”

“He is, Captain,” FRIDAY answers, “But he has asked not to be disturbed.”

“Seriously?” Steve mutters, then calls out loud enough that he knows Tony will hear it - and otherwise FRIDAY will relay the message for him. “Are you actually going to hide from me in there?!”

When there’s no answer, Steve shouts, “I can break down this door and you know it!”

“Boss says he’d like to see you try,” FRIDAY informs him dryly.

“Fine,” Steve huffs, and takes a few steps back to be able to get some momentum to burst through the door. Tony leaves him no choice.

He’s about to put his shoulder in it when the door opens up automatically to reveal a put upon Tony.

“I don’t have time to fix what you break when you’re being a caveman,” Tony mutters as he walks back to his working station, turning his back on Steve.

“What is wrong with you?” Steve asks, frowning as he follows Tony into the room.

“Jury’s still out on that,” Tony says matter-of-factly, “But I believe the words narcissistic and daddy-issues have been floating around.”

Tony’s shoulders are hunched as he sits back down and his fingers tap quickly over the hologram keyboard.

“Tony…” Steve says softly, because there’s clearly something going on here - something that isn’t chocolate cake - and it’s putting Tony in a mood. “What’s wrong?”

“Forget about it,” Tony shakes his head, deliberately not looking at Steve as he throws up some complicated looking plans in the air. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing,” Steve says, rounding the table so he can face Tony. “If you’re snapping at Bucky like this - ”

“God, fine!” Tony calls out, put upon. “I’ll apologize to your precious bo- Bucky. Just… leave me alone.”

The words feel like a punch to the gut to Steve. The clear dismissal, the comments that feel almost deliberately cruel… It reminds Steve of the time in the Helicarrier, all those years ago, when they were under the influence of Loki’s scepter.

“What on earth has gotten into you, Tony?” Steve asks, and he’s trying very hard not to let his annoyance show too much, because the last thing he wants is to get into a shouting match with Tony, but Tony sure as hell isn’t making it easy on him.

“Nothing!” Tony repeats, once again, flicking his fingers rapidly at the holograms to make images appear and disappear. “I just wanted a quiet dinner with you guys and not have to fucking think about…” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face as he trails off.

“Think about what?” Steve asks, almost desperate, because this is starting to feel like pulling teeth. “I thought you and Bucky were getting along? I thought you were… you know, in a good place. I know a lot has happened, and it’s been hard on you, but…”

“It’s not - ” Tony shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “Bucky’s a good guy. I know he is.”

“He went out to go find an all night bakery for you,” Steve says, trying hard to get a hint of a smile on Tony’s face. “I’m pretty sure he’s gonna come back with enough desserts to put you in a sugar coma.”

“Oh,” Tony’s face falls, a trace of guilt visible on it. “He didn’t have to do that…”

“I know, I told him.” Steve shrugs. But Bucky wanted to make it right any way he could, so he went out anyway. Natasha accompanied him, telling Steve to ‘go take care of Tony’. “Because this really isn’t about the chocolate cake, is it?” Steve asks.

“You… I’m happy for you,” Tony says, deflated, and happy is about the last thing Steve would use to describe Tony right now. “That he’s back. That, that you have him back.”

“Bucky?” Steve frowns, because he’s not entirely sure he’s following what Tony is talking about.

Tony nods, deliberately not meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Steve says, hesitantly. He is, of course, ridiculously happy that he’s got Bucky back. They’ve been best friends since forever, and losing him was one of the hardest things Steve has had to deal with in his life. What he doesn’t understand is why it seems like it makes Tony sad. Or why Tony had his little outburst in the first place.

“If I apologize, do you, uh… do you think he’ll stay mad at me?” Tony asks, swiping away the holograms before he starts tinkering aimlessly at some metal pieces that are on his work bench.

“He’s not mad now,” Steve says, sympathetically. “It’s Bucky, he… he just thinks he’s to blame.”

The words make Tony cringe, and that’s not what Steve was aiming for either, of course.

“Fuck,” Tony breathes out, knocking the metal pieces off the bench with his hand, “I’m such a jealous piece of shit.” He buries his face in his hands, turning away from Steve again.

“Tony…” Steve starts, because as much as he doesn’t want Bucky to blame himself for all the troubles of the world - which he already does so often - he certainly doesn’t want Tony to do so either. In a sense Tony is a lot like Bucky in that respect, because he also -

Wait.

“Jealous?” Steve blurts out, because his mind gets stuck on the word and can’t seem to process it. Why does Tony have to be jealous? Who is he jealous of? It doesn’t make any sense. Tony just groans and sighs like he was hoping Steve would glance over what he said, or maybe wouldn’t have heard him, which is ridiculous because Steve has super serum hearing and he definitely heard Tony call himself jealous.

And then something clicks in Steve’s head, and he feels like the air is being sucked out of his chest, because he’s replaying the conversation in his head… Because Tony said that he was happy for Steve and Bucky, as if… as if they were… a thing. And because Tony said he’s jealous and oh God…

“You’re in love with Bucky?” Steve calls out, strangled. It feels like a punch to the gut, because Lord, he loves these two people so much - in very different ways - and he wants them to be happy but in all honesty he can’t say if he’d be able to cope with seeing them together. It would feel like his best friends ripping his heart right out of his chest with their bare hands and oh God, his breathing is heavy and his chest is pounding, and then Tony looks at him with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“What?” Tony says, incredulous. “God, Steve, no!”

“But, you said…” Steve stammers, completely and utterly confused.

“Please, can you just…” Tony asks, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the door, shoulders slouched and eyes faintly red.

“Tony…?” Steve asks, because there is no way he can just step away now.

“I’m in love with you, you idiot!” Tony yells out, almost desperately.

There’s a ringing in Steve’s ears as the phrase replays on a loop in his brain and all he can do is stare at Tony incredulously. Tony looks about as miserable as Steve has ever seen him, and all Steve wants to do is step up to him and throw his arms around him and hold him close, but it seems like he’s frozen in place.

I’m in love with you, you idiot!

with you

It’s only when Steve suddenly inhales sharply that he realizes he’s been holding his breath. The ringing is still present in his ears and he tries to say something but he doesn’t know what. His brain is having a difficult time processing what Tony said, even though it’s everything Steve has been longing to hear. But everything Steve simply can’t believe is true.

“Please leave,” Tony says, almost inaudible, like something broke inside of him, and Steve can see him turning away. Then all of a sudden Steve’s body is acting on its own, taking two long strides towards Tony and his hand is on Tony’s upper arm, preventing him from turning away from him.

Tony’s eyes are wide and bewildered as Steve grips him, like he’s afraid of what Steve is going to do next, but then Steve’s eyes are closing by themselves and his mouth is crushing against Tony’s and the ringing in Steve’s ears stops abruptly to make place for Tony’s heartbeat. Or is it his own that he can hear? Either way it’s pounding, but Tony’s lips are soft and warm and are pressing back against his own.

Steve slips his hands up Tony’s neck, fingers cupping underneath his jawline, thumbs resting on Tony’s cheeks, and there’s a soft noise that escapes Tony’s throat - a whimper - and it erupts a fire within Steve’s body. He parts his lips, tongue swiping out and immediately finding access in Tony’s mouth. Tony’s hands are gripping at the back of Steve’s shirt, and his entire body is pressed in against Steve’s, and Steve forgets how to think, how to fonction, how to breathe…

He doesn’t know how long they’re standing there, time irrelevant in the warmth of Tony’s kiss, when they finally do break away - a need for oxygen becoming dire - but Steve rests his forehead against Tony’s, and one hand is cupping the back of his neck, and Tony’s chest is solid and reassuring against Steve’s.

“I’m an idiot,” Steve whispers, his voice sounding rough.

“ ‘s what I told you…” Tony mutters, tilting his face a bit, nuzzling his nose against Steve’s cheek.

“I thought…” Steve trails off.

“I know,” Tony says, his breathing still heavy. “I thought..”

“Me and Bucky?” Steve asks softly. His eyes are closed but he can feel Tony nodding against his face.

“It made sense,” Tony says like a confession.

“I don’t know,” Steve says, an arm slipping around Tony’s shoulder, desperate not to let go, “Maybe. But no.”

“I’m an asshole,” Tony says, and Steve immediately silences him with a quick kiss, because no.

“What you said about him stealing things from under your nose…” Steve says, pulling away just far enough to be able to look Tony in the eyes.

“I thought…” Tony says, a slight blush on his cheeks which could be the result of the kiss or embarrassment, Steve can’t tell. “We were getting closer. I was… I thought we were… heading somewhere. But then you and him… there’s this history, and…”

“He’s my brother,” Steve says honestly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of Tony’s neck, “We’re close, yes, but… there’s nothing…” Steve shakes his head. He doesn’t know how to explain, because as much as he loves Bucky with all his heart, he’s never had those kinds of thoughts or feelings about him, ever. “It’s you, Tony,” Steve says, “You and only you.”

And the way Tony kisses him makes Steve think that maybe he didn’t explain it so badly after all.

***

They get to the kitchen just as Bucky and Natasha are unpacking boxes of treats and Tony groans as he takes in the sight, subconsciously moving to stand behind Steve a bit, as if he’s trying to hide.

“Bucky…” Tony whispers, guilt audible in his voice.

Bucky’s head snaps up, and he immediately holds out one of the boxes in Tony’s direction. “Do you like lobster tails?” he asks, a bit unsure. “I’m not sure what it is, but it looks really good.”

“Buck…” Tony tries, but Bucky just sets the box down on the table and grabs another one.

“We’ve got lots,” he says, looking around at the assortment in front of him. “I wasn’t sure what you liked best. I’ve got a couple of different kinds of chocolate cake, but there’s cupcakes and cream puffs and cannoli’s - ”

“Oh my God, Bucky, stop,” Tony says as he steps towards the table. “You didn’t have to - I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah, y’are,” Natasha mutters as she grabs one of the sugar cookies and takes a bite into it.

“Alright,” Steve says, looking at Natasha. “Why don’t we give these two some privacy so this one can apologize properly.” He puts his palm playfully over the back of Tony’s head and nudges him a little bit.

“Thanks,” Tony says, shooting Steve a small smile, before looking back at Bucky.

“We’ll go get the others afterwards,” Steve says, looking at the assortment of desserts displayed on the table. “We’ll have a late night dessert party or something, ‘cause there’s no way the two of you are eating all of this alone.”

He shoots Bucky a reassuring wink, because he knows Tony will make things right again. Natasha grabs another cookie before Steve nudges her out of the room.

“He’s gonna apologize?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow at Steve once they’re out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, he was just…” Steve trails off, shrugging.

“Jealous?” Natasha supplies for him with a knowing smile.

Steve just stares at her. “How did you…?” he frowns.

Natasha’s only answer is a cocky smirk.

“You know, you’re seriously scary sometimes,” Steve says, shaking his head.

“Don’t hurt him,” Natasha warns, but her voice is surprisingly soft. “He’s an ass but he’s our ass and we love him.”

“Yeah…” Steve says, glancing back at the kitchen. “We do.”

***

Fin

#Stony #SteveTony #Superhusbands #The Avengers #Stony Fic #Fin's Fic #Anonymous #Fin's MCU fic #Fin's Stony fic

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babycapell · 3 years

Text

new york’s very own baby capell was spotted on broadway street , with a striking semblance to courtney eaton ! you may know them as @capellbabyy or hitting the front page of tmz as natasha fox, suspected con-artist infamously identified as baby, unanimously declared innocent on charges faced in california . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being heartless , but also ambitious . things that would paint a better picture of you would be a cluster of designer shopping bags, tan limbs tangled in silk sheets, a heart shaped sucker dangling between glossed lips. ( cisfemale + she/her ) + ( saxon , twenty-six , she/her , cst )

Out Of Character

Guess who’s back again? Honestly I don't know how this is going to go because this is a very new character and quite different from anything I’ve played but I’m incredibly excited to bring her to life! As always, we stay very open to connection ideas and plotting so please do not hesitate to hit me up because me and my child are here for the chaos and drama! <3

Basic Information

Full Name: Natasha Wren Campbell-Fox. Baby Capell.

Nickname(s): Nat. Baby.

Birthday: January 6th.

Orientation: Pansexual.

Language(s) Spoken: English, French, Mandarin Chinese, Spanish.

Background

TW: cancer.

At just eighteen years old, Lucia Campbell left New Zealand and moved to England in hopes of pursuing a career in ballet only to unexpectedly end up pregnant just months later, putting a pause on both her dreams and her future.

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to her at the time of conception, the child’s father was a married member of the British Royal family - albeit fifteenth in line for the throne, the fact that he had stepped out on his wife and had a bastard child was scandal that could not be afforded.

Although the man tried repeatedly to coerce Lucia into getting an abortion, assuring it was what was best for both of them, Natasha Wren Campbell arrived in the world Jaunary sixth, nineteen-ninety six.

In order to keep the situation under wraps, her father stopped by once a month to ‘check in’. For Natasha and her mother, these events felt less like visits with family and more like important interviews where their every move was under harsh scrutiny, the check he gave them at the end of his visit enough to make sure they were able to get by, money that assured that his secrets were kept safe.

Every memory Natasha held of the woman who raised her was a beautiful one, a woman she considered so good and ethereal that it almost made sense that she didn’t get to stay in their world for too long.

When Natasha was just fourteen, her mother began experiencing fatigue and pain too serious to brush off, diagnosed within a week with stage four pancreatic cancer, the illness seemed to arise out of nowhere and progressed rapidly, leaving her unable to work and therefore unable to provide for them.

Natasha waited desperately for her father’s next visit, asking for help with growing bills and the hopes of finding a better doctor but he refused, deeming such beyond his concern and leaving them with the same check he had in every visit prior.

With no way to make money to care for her herself or her mother, Natasha turned to the only thing she could think of, thievery. What started as sneaking into restaurants and fancy events in order to steal food soon became grabbing expensive items left sitting on tables, selling them for cash that would keep the lights or the heat on even a month longer.

Still, within eight months, her mother was gone and Natasha was alone - without a job or a place to go.

The teenager adapted the only way she knew how, using the same tricks that she had before but this time in order to get into hotels. She used her father’s name and position in order to get their attention and if asked, used the pet name her mother had used for her when asked in order to avoid being caught, Baby.

Soon, she realized that showing fearlessness and confidence could get her almost anything - whatever hotel she could manage soon became the most lavish she could find and just having a bed to lay in at night became enjoying the high class service and catering offered to her.

One night, while enjoying dinner in the hotel restaurant, she was approached by an arrogant teenage boy who was clearly eager to flaunt the wealth his parents held. Rage flooded her but instead of lashing out, her mind pulled her on a different route. She played into his every word until he was obsessed with her and then she used it, doe eyes and sweet voice pleading for what his money had to offer her for three whole months. His interest - or rather his family’s interest in finance and technology was his ultimate downfall, giving her every bit of information she needed to drain his bank account and disappear.

Natasha quickly became aware of just what kind of power she held and she planned on using it, starting with the man whom she deemed, in some way, responsible for the loss of her mother.

The teenager arrived on her father’s doorstep and played every bit of the confused and mortified girl finding out that her father had a whole life that she and her mother had been unaware of. It was while his wife asked her to wait upstairs as they fought in the living room that she found his study, making quick work of getting every ounce of information she could in order to ruin him financially later.

Unexpectedly, however, she found an account that was depositing the same amount that he had been paying out to her and her mother monthly. She followed the lead in hopes to meet her possible half-sibling and found a true family instead. A half-sister, Tali Fox (who reminded her greatly of her own mother) and her mother who all too happily took her in and adopted her as if she had always belonged.

Still, the world of lavish living and conning men whom she felt deserved it had piqued her interest in a way she couldn’t explain and she wasn’t ready to give up. She became a chameleon of sorts; spending nights going out to special venues, catching the eye of a rich male and playing the role of their dream girl - she’d use them for months, allowed them to shower her in precious gifts until she grew bored, draining their accounts and disappearing from their lives.

Six months ago she was arrested in California on multiple charges of larceny, fraud and forgery and had been awaiting a trial that finally began at the end of August and concluded just last week with a unanimous verdict of innocence, due to both a lack of evidence and witnesses. (aka; this little b*tch is good at what she does, no evidence and most dudes won’t even come out to say anything against her because they’re either still in love and/or don’t want to admit they got played by this angel face)

Now that she is out, she has arrived in New York to spend some quality time with her sister and perhaps, lay low for a while.

Personality

Look, there’s no way to sugarcoat it, this girl is the sugar baby supreme okay? She wants your attention and your love and your money and that’s it. She doesn't feel nothing for you anyway, but she feels even less if you don’t adore her, dammit.

She’s not a bad person, she’s really not - she pry donates all her clothes to the women’s shelter once she’s worn them even once and donates more than half of the money she steals to charity but like...she’s just very very angry and hurt and thinks all rich men deserve to suffer for being the type of man her father was which like - are you going to tell her she’s wrong? And she’s in too deep now, she just can’t stop.

A true personality unknown though, tbh? She basically has been playing chameleon for so long, she doesn’t know who she is or how to be? Just adjusts to make you happy. Literally the fakest.

Also she’s totally pansexual but like...way too focused on scamming men because they’re dumb and shit so like, definitely pry fucks around with females/nonbinaries from time to time but always finds herself going back to the hustle.

Desired Connections

A childhood friend who knew Natasha before the loss of her mother who hasn’t seen her since before that happened?

A childhood friend who’s known Natasha the whole time and maybe worries about her and her mental health?

The child of someone she conned? Honestly give me someone who’s dad Natasha hustled and they either hate her for it or just seriously respect her because they didn’t like him anyway? Or maybe even a sibling or an ex that she conned?

For males? Past scams? Current scams? Future scams? Let this bitch play you, please. We can decide details as to how long or how serious it got, they could hate her or be secretly still obsessed/in love with her or both at once? Literally anything, okay! If you want someone to fuck up your guy in the past or future - this is your girl!

For females or nonbinaries? Give me someone who was maybe genuinely interested in her? Someone who wanted/tried to have a relationship and she was just like nah and it fucked them up a little bit maybe? Honestly maybe even a female/nonbinary she conned because even though she usually doesn’t, she thought they were an ass and deserved it?

Someone who perhaps she actually started falling for a little, realized she wasn’t actually scamming them, that she was just chilling and she was like excuse??? And left without even scamming them? Or did just to prove to herself that she didn’t actually care about them? Kslflaks;sa I don’t know, she’s messy as hell, y’all.

#wealthyhq:intro #ooft this took too long and i still don't know if i care for it but it should get the gist across #cancer tw #also #cigarette tw #for the gif

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tsarinastorm · 4 years

Text

Stare Blankly-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 3

*This is the first part of a two part series, So We Beat On

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You finished setting out the wine and snacks, and were pulling up your streaming services on your television. You were having your first real girls’ night since moving to the city, and it was your first time hosting your new friend, Marnie. You met Marnie and Elijah at the same, boring networking event for young women, and bonded over the wine bar. The three of you started chatting about how lame the event was, but at least there was free wine. You became fast friends and grabbed lunch. You were missing your friends from back home so when Marnie mentioned a girls’ night, you thought it was a great idea. Marnie was bringing the nail polish, and face masks, and you supplied the apartment and snacks.

You had a small one-bedroom apartment in Tudor, and you couldn’t wait to move somewhere else. Your library hardly fit in this apartment and you weren’t ready to give up any part of the collection. The books, broad in topics, helped you win a few episodes of Jeopardy, enough to pay off your law school debt, and it gave you a chance to focus on writing instead of practicing law. You had written a modern Shakespeare series, some historical fiction and another novel which was released last year, and became a best seller. You freelanced on the side to keep things interesting and to be able to afford living in New York City.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch with a glass of wine in your hand and some kind of specialty mask on your face. Marnie was sitting next to you, posed in a similar fashion but with a cucumber mask on. You had some cheesy romantic comedy on but were too busy talking to pay attention. She recounted the breakdown of her marriage and music partnership with Desi, and talked about helping Hannah raise her baby upstate. She said she moved back to the city because upstate just felt suffocating to her. You tell her you understood, you had moved to the city because you wanted more.

“Y/N, you’re a writer, right?”

“Yes I am, are you in need of writing services? Isn’t one of your friend, Hannah, a writer too?”

“Hannah is a writer but she couldn’t help me. I need to work on song lyrics, and I’d like some help. You’re such a great writer maybe you could help me tweak some stuff.”

“Sure, no problem. I know nothing about music so that’s my disclaimer if it’s terrible.”

“I can appreciate any help I could get. It’s so hard to work on music while I have to look for a normal 9 to 5 job too. Working at the coffee shop just isn’t cutting it and it sucks to see Ray every day.” You had heard her talk about her past with Ray, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to see him all the time. You remembered that she had an art degree and you had some connections to galleries in the city.

“Wait, don’t you have a degree in art or curatorship? I have a friend who manages artists and is getting ready to open a new gallery featuring his artist’s work. He’s also a professor at Columbia so he always needs some help.”

“That would be great, that’s originally what I wanted to do. Do you think you could get me an interview, or send him my resume?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” You really don’t want to speak to Marc again, but if Marnie needed a job, you could suffer through a conversation. You and Marc had a unique relationship, with ups and downs, and it was currently over. You weren’t prepared for what talking to him again may entail.

The café was cute, artsy, and seemed to have a variety of drinks and foods catered to hipsters. It almost makes you laugh, but you see your crew motioning for you. You go to the table where you see Marnie, Elijah, a girl with short mousey hair, a cute baby, and another girl with dark hair. You sit down and you can feel the two girls you don’t know watching you curiously. Marnie starts the introductions.

“Y/N, these are my friends, Hannah and Shoshanna. And Hannah’s baby, Grover.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys, I’ve heard so much about you both. And this must be Grover, I’ve heard all about him too. He is adorable.” You say as you watch the baby who’s struggling with his sippy cup. You quickly find out that Hannah has recently moved back to the city, lives on Long Island, and works as an editor now. Hannah also adds that she is single and open to relationships, even potentially getting back with an ex because she thinks she needs closure. Yikes you think, getting back with an ex almost never works well. Elijah is busy entertaining baby Grover and chimes into the conversation every now and then. But you and Hannah are able to have a good discussion about writing and the struggles of being a female writer. Shosh talks about her fiancé, how perfect he is, how she wants to go back to Japan, and about how stressful planning a wedding is. You decently like Hannah and Shosh, but you didn’t know how close you’d be with them, you just had different lives. Everyone at your table then turns to look at some blonde with a British accent coming towards the table.

“Who invited her?” Elijah says icily. Shoshanna answers saying, “I mentioned this to her but she was not invited.” The blonde takes a seat at the table and she introduces herself to you.

“I’m Jessa, their other friend, the bad friend, the one who steals boyfriends.” She says and you watch to see if she’s joking but you’re alarmed when you realize that she is not. You introduce yourself to her, and you can feel that the resentment at the table is practically sizzling.

“Jessa, are you and Adam still fucking or whatever your thing was?” Hannah asks with an edgy tone. You immediately pick up that there’s some drama there, specifically between Hannah and Jessa. Your instinct appears correct because everyone else looks tense as they watch the exchange. Jessa just smiles as she answers, “No, we’re just friends now, but I still talk to him. I hope we can all be friends again now that I’m not with him anymore. Are the rest of you satisfied now?”

“That doesn’t make it any better that you stole her boyfriend.” Elijah snaps at her and rolls his eyes. Marnie and Shosh just watch her, and choose not to respond to her. Jessa turns to Hannah, and says, “Can we talk somewhere?”

“There’s not much to talk about but alright.” Hannah quickly packs up Grover’s things and rushes to leave, she’s obviously frazzled and wants to get that conversation over with. Hannah tells you that it was nice meeting you, gives you a quick hug then is gone. Jessa tells you the same thing, but doesn’t hug you, and it feels like brunch is ruined. That Jessa came in like a hurricane, then left. You must look shocked, because Marnie starts laughing nervously before she explains, “Welcome to the disaster that is our friendship. Adam is Hannah’s ex, then Jessa dated him for a while, it’s a testy subject as you can see. No one wanted Jessa here, and apparently even Adam is sick of her.”

Shosh and Elijah both shake their heads in agreement with Marnie. The remaining four of you continue chatting for an hour or so. You decide that you don’t particularly like Jessa simply because of her history, but to you she seemed decent. You’d keep her at a distance though. Shoshanna was super sweet, a bit chatty, but well-intentioned, you thought you could be friends with her. You thought Hannah was a bit self-absorbed but good company, and you had a lot in common. Marnie promised to fill you in on the friendship drama later.

“I have a job interview with Marc this week, thank you so much for sending him my info.” Marnie says as she hugs you.

“I hope it all works out, it was really no problem.”

“I have a gig this weekend, you should definitely come, I’ll be performing a new song!”

“Alright, send me the details,” you say as you’re trying to decide if you’re excited or not. You’re excited to support your friend, but will her other friends be there? You weren’t sure if you were interested in their group drama, you had enough of your own issues going on.

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

Adam walks into the bar, and looks around. It’s definitely not a place he’d normally venture into on his own. He was here for Marnie’s singing gig, he never particularly liked Marnie but Ray encouraged him to show up. Ray was Adam’s only friend, if he could even call him a friend. Jessa claims she’s his friend now, but she’s not. He’s the one who broke up with her, and she was desperate to stay in his life so she convinced him to be friends, but he knows she’s hoping to make it more than friends again. He looks up at the upper level of the bar, and he sees one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen.

She’s standing up there perched against a high table, but she’s clearly enjoying her view over the whole bar. She’s wearing a beige crop top and black skinny jeans, Adam thinks she somehow looks both confident and vulnerable. He makes up his mind that he’s going to talk to her. When he makes to the edge of her table, he asks, “May I join you?”

“Sure.” She nods and looks at him, and continues, “This is the perfect spot for people watching.”

“Definitely, do you see that guy down there in the blue shirt, he looks the typical hipster, he probably complains about being ‘friend-zoned.’”

“That girl there is probably coming off a bad break up and is looking for a rebound. She’s trying to figure out how to look fun but not too desperate.” She laughs, and then her phone buzzes and she says, “I’ve got to go meet my friends but it was nice talking to you, I’m Y/N.”

She reaches out her hand and he takes it introducing himself, “I’m Adam, I hope I see you around.”

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

You go meet up with Shoshanna, and Hannah. Marnie’s getting ready to go on stage, so the three of you stand off to the side of the platform and wait for her to come out. Shosh and Hannah are talking about how Marnie must be nervous before going on stage, and then you hear Shosh say that she doesn’t even know why Jessa showed up. You think that’s great, let’s bring the drama train back. Speaking of drama involving someone named Adam makes you think of the Adam you just met. You figure that you’ll see him at some point tonight, this place is only so big. You’re thinking about his perfect imperfect smile when you see him walking your way. He comes up and stands besides Hannah and they talk as you realize that he must the Adam that she and Jessa have the rift over. Hannah then turns to you, and goes to introduce you to Adam, but you stop her saying, “Oh this is the Adam? I just ran into him a couple of minutes ago.”

“Yeah, we talked for a few minutes. How do you two know each other?” Adam asks as he motions his hands towards you and Hannah, you can see the moment it clicks in his head that you must be friends or acquaintances with Hannah. Hannah answers for you telling him “She’s our new friend. We just met her the other day. Did you know that she’s a writer like me?”

“No, we didn’t have time to talk about that,” he says sheepishly. You try to diffuse the situation by asking Adam what he does, he tells you that he’s an actor. He asks you where you’re from and he responds to your answer by joking that your home might be the only place worse than Indiana. You surprisingly don’t disagree.

“What have you been working on? Every actor I’ve met is like every writer I’ve met: they have projects.” You say coolly, leaning in so he can hear your question over the music. He laughs as he answers your question, “I did a production of Hamlet, and just finished a Death of A Salesman at Minetta Lane. I have some other auditions and projects coming up.”

You recognize him from the production of Hamlet you went to a few months ago, that’s why he looked familiar. Hannah and Shosh has backed away slightly from you, as if to give you privacy to talk. Adam as steps closer to you as you inadvertently take a step towards him too. You definitely found Adam hot, and you were impressed by his work. You’d seen Hamlet and read the rave reviews for his part in Death of a Salesman. It was the first time in a long time that you felt nervous around someone. It was a good nervous, but still it was making you more self-conscious than you’d like. You tried to ignore his past with new friends because you could tell that could be a stressful nightmare, but you really wanted to get to know him better. Adam seemed to be smart, non-traditional and interesting. You thought that a compliment was a safe way to start a conversation, or it is with ninety-nine percent of the population.

You take a long sip of your drink and lean in closer to him so he can hear you, “I saw the production of Hamlet, and you were really great. One of the best performances of Hamlet I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, I appreciate the compliment. It means a lot, you said you’re a writer so you know about the arts. I’m a fan of your work too, your book was one of the best books I’ve read this decade. ”

“I appreciate art, but my perspective is different from yours because I’m not an actor. Isn’t that the great thing about art though: it means different things to different people, but it’s also universal?”

“I agree, it’s supposed to make people feel something, that’s why I don’t do mainstream stuff. It tends to be shallow.”

“I like modern interpretations of Shakespeare like your Hamlet. It’s timeless and universal.”

“I’ve never understood the allure of Shakespeare, he’s overrated and pretentious.” He states like it’s a known fact. You have to watch his reaction to see if he’s joking with you, but you see he’s being dead serious. And things were going so well until he dropped that bombshell opinion.

“He’s the greatest writer of all time. And what writer isn’t pretentious? Most of them are pretentious by default because through most of history a majority of the population couldn’t read or write so writers always represented the upper classes.”

“Okay I’ll admit that Shakespeare is good, he’s made a lasting impact or whatever. But he took works from others, and anytime you have to have a modern interpretation to understand the point, the writing probably isn’t as good as you thought.”

“He wasn’t pretentious in his time. When he wrote it, the people understood it. English has drastically changed in 500 years. He appeals because he used universal themes and timeless human emotions.” You can feel your anger rising, but you can’t help it. He’s was so stubborn, and resolute in his convictions.

“I still disagree. There are thousands of writers who do the same thing and don’t get the credit. But Shakespeare is untouchable because a lot of elitist academics think he is.”

“And the whole world should listen to you. Am I supposed to believe that all of the scholars who study Shakespeare and literature are wrong and you alone are the only one who is right? Who sounds pretentious now?”

“You’re sounding like an elitist. I’m curious, who’s your favorite author?”

“Okay I’ll play along, Dostoevsky or Fitzgerald.”

“That’s my point exactly.”

“Do you think Dostoevsky is pretentious too? He did not go through exile in Siberia to be insulted by some yuppie actor in modern day New York.”

“Did you seriously call me a yuppie?”

“I did.” You say as you raise your eyebrows and take an exaggerated drink from your cup. It added a dramatic flair to your comment, and you felt like you needed a drink with the way this conversation was going. Apparently your yuppie comment struck a nerve because Adam’s voice deepened when he responded, and his new tone was accusatory.

“I know what your problem is. You’re so used to being the smartest person in the room that you can’t fucking handle it when someone is just as smart as you. Because you feel that way, you assume you’re always right and you refuse to let anything go.” You can’t tell what makes you madder: his tone, or the fact he presumes to know everything about you, when he doesn’t. The nerve of him! You’re going to get him back from that comment, so you try to give him a low blow too.

“And I know what your problem is. You’re so used to playing the ‘starving’ artist, waxing poetically. Oh you poor tormented soul! You use it to excuse yourself from real responsibility and you think it makes you different, but really you’re just like everybody else.” You point your finger to emphasize your last point. You can’t tell if that was the worst conversation you’ve ever had, or one of the best conversations you’ve had in a long time. You were somehow both infuriated by him and intrigued. You were a lawyer after all, maybe that’s why you weren’t totally put off by the argument, and a part of you actually liked it.

You become suddenly aware of how close you’re standing to him, you can count all of his freckles and can practically feel his breath. Assuming that he would move back, you stood your ground, but he remained still as his honey irises bored into yours. This was too much, you thought to yourself and willed yourself away. You grab your drink off the table and turn to leave. Adam looks like he’s going to say something, but instead he keeps a smug look on his face as you watches you walk away.

You then walk off to go congratulate Marnie on her great performance, even though you have be too distracted to listen to most of it. You presumed Adam would still be around after you’ve congratulated Marnie, and you’d have a chance to finish your chat. But when you got back to where you last saw Adam, he wasn’t there. You scanned the bar for him, and he was nowhere to be seen. You guessed you wouldn’t get to finish that talk.

#adam sackler x reader #hbo girls #girls hbo #adam sackler fic #adam driver #adam sackler

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peepingtoad · 3 years

Text

|| @dokuhebi:-

War was approaching, Konoha’s farms were struggling to keep up with the demands of the citizens, even though the population was declining in size, even though fewer mouths were in need of being fed, and more families were without the right income to cater to those needs of hunger. The assignments being handed out were of more dangerous ranks, the shinobi placed on those assignments suddenly younger and younger in age. But all of that, and so much more, is practically ignored by the child. They have a more pressing affair to deal with. It’s their friends birthday, and they have just heard his mother wouldn’t be making it home in time this year to visit. Had she even managed to send a letter? Or had that gotten swept up in the conflict as well? They can’t be sure. What they are sure about however, is that it is up to them and Tsunade to mitigate this colossal disaster of their teammates empty celebration. Their little apartment, dreary as it usually is, will be the perfect grounds for staging a surprise. With no one there to meddle with the two childrens affairs. Allowing for the young serpent and princess to modify it to the desired effect. Far more vibrant and ghost-free now. A few decorations strung from cupboards and ceilings, window frames and doorways. The small counter space along with the even smaller side table is used for gifts and snacks, an assortment of foods that the two knew Jiraiya liked. Gifts are all wrapped, messily so, but serving the purpose. An orphan such as them hardly had the means for elaborate gift giving. But Jiraiya didn’t have to know that Tsunade had helped chip in for theirs, nor did he, or the Senju for that matter, need to know that the rest of the money for the present was acquired through pawning off items they stole here and there. Deciding it was well within their moral compass to do so, because it was for a good cause, and they had only robbed those who the child decided deserved a good lesson. For telling them off harsher than necessary, for being too obnoxious or loud a neighbour, for looking at them the wrong way because of their status in society. So perhaps his mother wasn’t there for the celebration of the young boy, perhaps he would have no blood family around on the special day. But he would have a different family there, when Orochimaru, thinking themself very clever and subtle, lures him back to their apartment after training, feigning that they didn’t want to walk home alone, only to bring him in to the abode and announce the surprise. Where all three could spend the day, afternoon and night celebrating together. Now at nineteen years old, his mother would miss his birthday again. Only this time, it would be well known she would miss all the rest to follow it. Her passing had struck him violently, unable to ever forget the look on his face when they walked in. When they watched the last piece of his already shaky foundation crumble from beneath his feet. So perhaps that was why it became important to have a redo of the same little party they had done as children. A reminder he still had family, a distraction from an empty home, no matter how rarely she was ever there to begin with. The serpent offers up their apartment again, but not without a healthy dose of rules and warnings. Certainly not without hiding a few items for the sake of that precious research being preserved and out of harms way. After all, the innocent little snack table has been repurposed for some drinks instead. Only one year until the trio is twenty and legally allowed alcohol, for now, Orochimaru does what they do best: ignoring Hiruzen’s laws outright, and doing whatever the hell they wanted anyway. And once more, Orochimaru is the one to lure Jiraiya back to the apartment. This time however, their tact is worth their own praise, as they let the man think the truly are forgetful and negligent of the day. While Tsunade and Dan set up at the serpents abode, Orochimaru keeps the ignorant guest of honor doing trivial tasks. Making him help them in the Hokage’s office, pretending that the right amount of stress and duties had made them forget the celebratory day - and with their hardworking nature, it wasn’t hard to convince anyone of that possibility. There is perhaps, a bit of fun to be had, waiting to exasperate Jiraiya a little that his day off became a handful before telling him they needed help with one last thing. Only for a light smirk to reflect on their lips and give the game up the moment they push open their door and let him enter. A bit of fair warning to expect something. Less juvenile decorations, less sloppy furniture arrangements, the table showcasing various gifts, surrounded by various bottles of sake and whiskey for overindulgence, and a pickled and deep fried based menu of party food. Whenever Jiraiya’s glass empties, Tsunade, Orochimaru or Dan were quick to top it up, an agreement between them that it would take any edge off from the morbid memory of who wasn’t able to attend. The night would continue well in to the morning, until Tsunade and Dan need to get back, or more so, until Dan decides for her sake, Tsunade may need to find herself in her own bed with some welcoming home comforts come her hangover in the morning. Eventually, leaving only Jiraiya and Orochimaru there for the remainder of the night, the buzz of drinking leaving a spell of calm, as the two sit on the small but pleasant balcony. At some point, deciding it might be fun to teach Jiraiya some of their erhu, but being too controlling - even drunk - to properly let him touch and tamper with the delicate item. More of a demonstration, than a lesson then. A moment of playful banter and jabs, until Orochimaru has brought out a small gift from their sleeve, and offered it to him. Deciding to retire for the night, and drunkenly placing a kiss to the top of his head, and a small pat of his shoulder as they move inside and leave him to unwrap the gift by himself on the balcony, “there’s room for two on the bed, don’t let me catch you sleeping on the couch come morning on your own birthday,” they say, or perhaps order, in parting. This time, Orochimaru could afford their own gift for him. Mostly ethically earned. A Kiseru and tobacco pouch, crafted in Kumogakure, the golden metal bind that winds up the long pipe carved in to by the intricate patterns of serpents weaving through lily pads. A note with a short ‘think of me on your journeys’ splashed with ink on a small card. Wrapped far more neatly than from the past. And perhaps the note is as much in support of his wanderings and passions, in support of his mothers legacy, as it is a possessive little trick. That if he found himself smoking at some bathhouse, in the company of some little she-devil that wasn’t them, one glance at the serpents on his kiseru would put the bastards work of flirting him up to waste, as they steal his thoughts from countries away.

It didn’t really bother him when it occurred that Orochimaru and Tsunade had probably forgotten about this day. That wasn’t to say that he’d been so wrapped up in his moping that he was dead set on being indulgently miserable for it—after all, every extra year one survived in this world was a worthy cause for celebration—but there was no denying that he was in a funk. That his shoulders seemed to be just that little bit heavier than before. That behind every buoyant smile, he was deflated inside. So it wasn’t that he didn’t care, but he wasn’t bothered by it either.

It was all just… grey.

Having said all that, what actually was irksome to him was that a day that should have been spent getting hammered in that one seedy bar that was willing to serve them (largely in thanks to Jiraiya’s sheer height and broad build that screamed ‘fully grown man’, enough to give him a pass), was instead being gradually frittered away on annoying little tasks. Orochimaru was dead set on doing everything necessary to keep themself firmly in their sensei’s mind as his natural successor; Jiraiya knew this, and they were exceptionally diligent with it.

So why, then, was he roped into helping them to suck up to the old man instead of falling into blissful drunken stupor? How annoying. And yet he still doesn’t refuse to help.

This ultimately leads to him being rather moody and pouty as they finally finish for the day, an early evening sun warming the dull dirt path to gold as they stroll along, Jiraiya with a sour expression and hands shoved just a little aggressively deep into his pockets. With the sudden mention of a seemingly-just-remembered ‘one last thing’ by the time they reach their apartment door, he’s all but ready to give them the most linguistically colourful of refusals, only for the mischievous little flash over their features to stop him dead in his tracks.

Raised eyebrows and a slightly more curious kind of pout signal his own realisation and intrigue, progressing into a look of heartfelt wonder as the door is opened, and he is very suddenly presented with the more grown up version of a similar trick from… when was it, seven years ago? Eight?

The first time his birthday had ever been so distinctly without her.

He can’t even be agitated that the intimate them-ness of this little home-made party is slightly skewed by the presence of Dan. After all, the guy had clearly gone to a load of effort in helping Tsunade to set it all up, and at least this way there was an extra person to help fill the void left by a distinctly missing one. Good food and drink, too—that which he’d been craving all day and which Orochimaru had cleverly worked up an even greater appetite for—saw in the hours to follow sadness being replaced by merriment, and that grey feeling exchanged for a far more celebratory mood. Celebrating his ascent to the next year of his life, sure, but also that they were all here. That they were all together.

Until Dan has to take Tsunade home, anyway. Not that it even registers to Jiraiya, who at this point is so away with the fairies he could have entertained himself for hours and probably not realised it. Besides, he has Orochimaru, and watching them equally as intoxicated as himself, seeing how they come out of their shell a little more and show off their more frivolous skills, delights him in such a way that he sees practically nothing else. The erhu ‘lesson’ really makes him wish he’d swung by his place for his shamisen, but he settles for makeshift percussion by way of random surfaces and his palms, and even a poor attempt at atmospheric singing at points—a treat for their neighbours, no doubt. Eventually their activities take them to the balcony where they continue chatting, until the mystery gift brings upon them a shroud of silence.

It hadn’t actually occurred to him that there might be any more gifts. The evening, yes, along with the company and the free pass to make a real mess of the place without them biting his head off, were great enough gifts in themselves… but this slender box seems to hold quite a gravity about it, if not by the fact it’s been left until the very last, with only the two of them here, then because of the affection pouring so freely from them as they retire, leaving him with a tender kiss and touch, a mysterious gift to open, and a suggestion… no, an expectation of what should follow.

That confidence of theirs really is something… and ‘misplaced’ is not that something.

Jiraiya opens the gift in bated silence, his expression oddly neutral but wide-eyed as he reveals the elegant kiseru, with its design that feels very much deliberately chosen to contain an element of themself, but of him too. The pouch is also filled with tobacco which he opens and inhales the scent of, a blend that smells so fine that even a relative novice like him can tell it’s the good stuff.

Dammit, you trying to make me into an old man here? ‘Oh, that’s the good stuff!’ So old mannish…

He thinks that, but only with the giddiest of smiles that blooms suddenly, not a hint of disappointment to be seen—not at the gift itself, and certainly not at the validation contained in that one little message that came with it. A message that he knew for a fact he’d admire every brushstroke of whenever he found himself missing them from afar.

Needless to say, he doesn’t quite catch on to any possessive undertones that may lie in wait between the lines like serpents in the grass; so overwhelmed is he by the pure, soft sentiment of it, furthered by his current state no doubt, that thick tears slide down his cheeks without him even realising they were brimming to begin with. Only a few, before he pats them away with his sleeve and returns inside, carefully placing the gift on the bottle-strewn table but not lingering there himself.

Even drunk, he knows there’s no way they’d have fallen asleep already. Hell, they’d said with no measure of subtlety that they wanted him in their bed tonight, so it’s only natural for him to take that as simply as it sounded: as an invitation.

Now, to what capacity they wanted him, he can’t say. But given the physical closeness that came so naturally between the three, ever since they were little (as much as a certain princess would deny it), there would be nothing untoward in sneaking through the door of their bedroom, nor in stalking up their bed on all fours, nor in gathering them immediately into his arms to give them a tight and gratitude-laden embrace that seems to involve every one of his clumsy, drunk limbs.

“Oro…” He sighs, brows twitching a little as he realises what a useless phrase a mere ‘thank you’ really is. Like making him feel like this, so loved and appreciated, during one of the roughest points of his life thus far, can be returned with mere words of thanks. When he withdraws from the embrace, it is only to put the most minimal distance between them, still close enough that his vision swims hazily with alabaster skin that even the night can’t swallow completely, the ever-present glow of yellow irises, the void-like negative space where ebony hair seems to sever throat from shoulders and drip down their chest like rivers of shadow. They’re so beautiful it snatches his breath away, leaving him very much aware of the thundering of his heartbeat.

… This is one of those moments, isn’t it? Those moments of opportunity, where the options were divided between safety and risk, change or stagnation, control or release.

Concepts that are all far too complex in this particular moment, and so Jiraiya does only what he feels in his bones is right given the close entanglement they’ve found themselves in, with limbs curling around each other and fingers ensnared in each other’s hair. He holds their jaw within his heated palm, and gives one quivering caress of their lips with his thumb before replacing that uncertain touch with the far more definitive press of his mouth.

It’s hard to really quantify how long they stay like that, exchanging kiss after kiss between soft sighs and humid pauses for breath and the amazing feel of them—of this—filling his brain with the most blissful static, but there comes a moment where their foreheads are pressed together that he finally remembers his point, and gazes blearily at them with a smile that’s somehow both bashful and truly self-assured at the same time.

“I will.”

#dokuhebi #sorry this one was a little late!#as you can see i had to ramble and so... haha.#very indulgent #{birthdaywishes}#{summons(submissions)}#submission #{long post}#{fragments | dokuhebi | inseparable}#{verse:inseparable | dokuhebi}#{fragments | dokuhebi}#{thread:understanding}

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radiojamming · 4 years

Note

I feel like the low-hanging fruit of a prompt to give you is something around the canonical presence of the Franklin Expedition in TMA lore. Everchase fic?

[GRABS THAT FRUIT AND SCURRIES BACK UP MY TREE WITH IT BEFORE U CAN EVEN BLINK]

also i picked my 3rd favorite franklin expedition boy as the main dude here :3c and this isn’t terror-centric so much as it lines up with MAG 133!

- - -

Tom doesn’t understand what possesses the men he sails with. Some of them have such a want; such a craving and a desire that he cannot fathom, what with his simple daily tasks and basic training. He sees it, sometimes, when he’s tying off ropes or painting or tarring. He sees their hunger, spies it when they look out at where the sea is caked in ice, threatening the end of a cold summer. Out beyond the grey mountains and glaciers, the knife points of broken ice, the strange creatures, the dancing lights that curtain the stars, he knows they see the Northwest Passage. They see it so clearly that they’re blind to what’s in front of them now.

He sees a job. He sees chores and things that years in the Navy have taught him to do.

Of course, he also wants things. Everyone does. Tom wants to make it through the expedition in one piece, whether it end in the Sandwich Islands or England if they have to turn tail. He wants to collect his double pay, count it out from his hands to his mother’s, and feel safe and warm again before the next set of sails and ropes entices him back to the sea.

And once, he wanted adventure. He wouldn’t have had the thought to sign onto Erebus if there wasn’t some part of him that craved it. It didn’t capture his senses the way it does for some of the men, but there was a thrill that ran a gauntlet through his heart when he saw something truly strange, like the auroras or the twirled horns of narwhals peeking up through the ice. Sometimes, he would eagerly run down to the orlop after his watch ended and pen out a quick letter to his sisters, his brother, his mother, or his cousins—just hurried observations of the Arctic and how different it was from Gillingham.

He wanted adventure. The past tense is deliberate and fierce. He wanted, because the only reason it was ever in the present tense at all is now buried under six feet of frozen gravel some two hundred miles north. If he must want something presently, he wants his brother back from the dead.

No, he doesn’t understand the men who seek the Passage like hounds on a scent. What’s the use of wanting something you’re not meant to have?

- - -

They freeze in for the second summer in a row. The sun kisses the horizon, pressing rosy lips to grey shale and pink ice—then draws back up into a powder blue sky to wink above them.

That’s when people start to disappear.

First, it’s Sir John. He dies in June—or so Tom’s told. He apparently dies in the night, long after the dog watches take place. Captain Crozier tells the men that they’ll be burying Sir John right away, but Commander— no, Captain Fitzjames’ face is fixed peculiarly when the announcement is made. Dreadfully ill, Crozier tells them. He can’t be seen.

It doesn’t make sense. Many of the ABs echo the sentiment, but the mates and lieutenants are quick to quash their concerns. The burial is hasty, committing a simple wooden box to the gravel with only a large stone to mark the grave itself. This strikes Tom as stranger than all the Arctic’s oddest traits combined. His brother, a lowly able-bodied seaman, was afforded more decorum than Sir John Franklin.

More disappear after that. Fairholme and Osmer apparently die on a hunting expedition. Aylmore, Goddard, and Kinnaird aren’t far behind, disappearing into that sun-soaked horizon with only whispers left behind.

Reddington makes the oddest display before his disappearance; honestly, he’s the best hint to Tom that something very, very strange is happening. The night before he goes missing, he wakes half the ship up with a maniacal laugh, practically screaming in pure incoherence before Lieutenant Le Vesconte drags him into the Wardroom, presumably to calm him. Le Vesconte opens the door only once to ask for Captain Fitzjames and a glass of brandy before he shuts them both in and the screaming starts again. All Tom can catch is the howl of, “It’s there! It’s there! I’ve seen it!” before Fitzjames arrives.

The next morning, Reddington is gone. Fitzjames says he broke loose and ran off after the second dog watch, presumably having gone mad.

A few days later, Crozier says they’re going to abandon ship and begin a long walk south.

- - -

The craving begins in September, Tom thinks.

If there even is such thing as September.

In his mind, it’s The Craving, titled like a book. In this book, he thinks the plot would be about men so far gone in their hunger that all the humanity in them decays to nothing, leaving them crazed husks searching for the impossible. At this point, what with men falling into the stones and dying halfway through the descent, he feels they shouldn’t be like this. They should be tending their wounded and ill, making camp more often. But The Craving is in Crozier’s eyes, dragging them further and further towards… something.

Tom doesn’t think they’re looking for the Passage anymore.

He follows along, as he always has. Ever the seaman, now ever the AB, following orders from a boatswain with lips scarred from his whistle freezing to the flesh and tearing away.

Then, The Craving gets carnal when their last food stores begin to dwindle. Tom barely notices, watching as if in a dream as the man who used to be Daniel Arthur cracks marrow out of a bone, greedily clawing it out of the hollows with his frostbitten fingers. He eats like an animal, and stops only when they begin to move again.

Tom doesn’t eat with them. Every time he thinks of it, his mind plays some terrible trick. He thinks of John, entombed in ice and rock, emaciated and torn open like an animal was the one who pried his ribs from his body, and not a surgeon. He thinks of what John’s marrow would taste like, and imagines his brother watching him, eyes unfocused behind the mists of death, jaw unhinged in that silent scream of a corpse—judging him.

Tommy, he thinks John would say. Always stealing off my plate, huh?

He doesn’t eat. When the hunger saws at his stomach with iron teeth, he bites his hands, his lips, the wool from his coat, the copper-tasting metal of his buttons. He swallows snow until he vomits.

And somehow, impossibly, he lives on.

- - -

There are no days.

No weeks.

No months.

Maybe years, but Tom’s stopped counting.

There are only steps, one after another. There are bloody footprints thousands of miles behind them. They abandoned the sledges back in the snow and gravel, leaving useless cargo and a trail of broken bodies. Men still die, but there seems to be no real reason why they do. Tom should have been dead… ten? Twenty? Fifty years ago? He can’t remember. All he knows is that he’s still walking, following behind Crozier and Fitzjames and a dwindling party of men still dressed for the Arctic weather.

They’re in a desert.

Surely they should have found the Passage by now? Tom thinks this as he sees a lizard scurry up a strange plant, spiked like a well-used pincushion. The sun bites his blistering flesh, scrapes its glowing teeth along the back of his neck. Still, he’s never felt the need to take off his slops. There’s something comforting about the What Was, after all.

Why is he here? He doesn’t Crave the way the others do. They always talk about the Passage. It’s over that hill, surely. It’s along this river. If we just walk over there, it will be within sight. He knows it won’t be. It never is.

So why does he walk?

Because you Want, something tells him. It’s a deep, odd thing set in his soul, prone to ring out when struck like a bell, reminding him that he Must Always Walk.

For what?

For the Wanting, it says. And what do you Want, Thomas Hartnell?

Somewhere beyond a flat-topped mountain the colour of blood and bile, he thinks about that question. What does he Want?

He wants his mother to kiss his forehead and tell him good night. He wants Charlie to take apart their father’s pocket watch and put it back together, just in time to proudly show it to Tom. He wants to hear Mary Ann sing old shanties while she kneads dough on Friday morning. He wants to sit at the base of an apple tree while Betsy throws down the fruit, giggling as she does so.

He wants John to come back from the dead.

He wants to go home.

And Home is over that next mountain, says The Craving. Tom looks up at another blood-red mountain, the winking sun pressing a kiss to the slant of its neck. Don’t you want to see it again? Gillingham? Kent? The River and the Sea?

Of course he does, but it isn’t—

Well, maybe it is.

So Tom Wants, and he Craves, and he Walks.

#tma #the magnus archives #mag 133 #THIS WAS REALLY REALLY FUN

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bi-outta-cordonia · 4 years

Text

Of Assumptions and Half Truths

Chapter 3 is up and maybe we might have a contender for a hot romance option in Tyril. I don’t know. We gotta see. But in the meantime, I’ve got a thought about an elf that grew up around humans running into an elf that might possibly be from Undermount and is not very nice to elves that weren’t raised in Undermount. Let the enemies to lovers commence...

Blades of Light and Shadow. Tyril x f!elf MC (if you squint). SFW, all ages. Tags include: Tyril may actually full on hate my MC, like seriously hate her, but maybe he’s willing to acknowledge that shit got fucked and she can’t be held accountable for not knowing her history, a maybe he’s grappling with early onset sexual tension with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eyes follow everywhere he goes.

Used to be different, or so the elders say. Humes didn’t always have run of the land the way they do now. It was the Old Blood that built the ivory spires of Whitetower, that sowed magic within the soil and communed with the very earth. The libraries held more stories than what the humes were able to steal after the fall. Scavengers, the entire lot of them—and they’ve the audacity to stare at him as if he doesn’t belong. Parnassus, Yodlin, and every city in between—it was his people that built these lands. And it was the scavengers that sought to profit off the blood still cooling on the earth following the tragedy.

Eyes on him doesn’t bother him as much anymore. He’s impossible to ignore and it is in part by design. Humes are always so confident when they shouldn’t be. He corrects that behavior with a look, with his gait, and with carefully hissed words. A lot of the scavenging comes in the form of thieves and robbers, folk that would take coin from their own flesh and blood if it meant acquiring something that doesn’t belong to them.

Eyes on him is a given. He understands that now.

He tears a bit of his rations off and chews quietly. Stale bread again until the party reaches the next city along the way. Hume cuisine is rather quaint compared to what the Citadel serves but it fills his achy belly nonetheless. The crackle of flames is pleasant at the very least. So too is the quiet that it fills and the lack of distinct chatter from the other humes. The long haired fool sleeps heavily and the sheltered priestess sits tucked inside of her tent. Tyril’s eyes cut across the darkness and flame where the lowlander sits staring right at him.

Ashala Venralei, or so she says her name is.

He’s known many an elf like her in the stony city of Undermount—skin as deep and smooth as the cloudless night and eyes that blaze a bright gold. Something teems within her, perhaps a latent magic or the draw of the Old Blood within her. More prominently is the haughtiness and the daring.

Tyril bites off more of the awful bread and refuses to shift his gaze. A series of emotions plays across her face as she daintily dips her spoon into the filth she dubs a “stew” and consumes the contents. Whatever benefit he could’ve gained from having another of his kind near is lost upon that very person being the most arrogant and self-centered creature he’s ever laid eyes upon. Every bite of his bread stirs a rage within him and all she does is calmly eat her slop.

When she finally sets her bowl down, he braces.

“Unclench your jaw, fool,” she says far too evenly. “Surely a well traveled wanderer has seen far more disappointing elves than I.”

His eyes twitches but he knows better. “I will not be riled by you, lowlander. There is nothing about you that is worth my anger.”

She cackles.

“So bold of you to believe your anger is worth anything in the first place.” Ashala sits up and fiddles with the folds of her skirts. “Nothing pleases the prince. Not food, not a word—” She arches a brow, “—certainly not a person. Mayhap the prince would enjoy himself a bit more if he were to let go of this icy front. The cold and brooding act is hardly effective.”

“Perhaps the lowlander would love to see another of the people forget all that they are,” he snaps back. “Speak nothing of my plight and assume nothing of my motivations—I was not born to forget the tragedy that befell my people.”

A heavy silence hangs between them and a sensation claws at his throat. Call it a sense, or a hunch as the humes call it—his eyes flit back to Ashala’s and what he sees could bore through his entire soul. Lay him bare and strip him of everything he is for the simple sake of it. He knows it is more complex than that but he exists not to reveal these truths to her.

“The prince bid me not to assume anything of him, yet there he sits assuming things of me,” she says, lips quirking just a bit. “You claim it was a tragedy that befell your people but not mine. As if mine made the choice to be lost amongst the many humans that fill this land.”

“We have kept to the true ways, so it makes them my people,” he answers. “What you have been denied—” His gaze falters and his eyes turn towards the ground. “The Undermount has always been there. Some of the elders lived before the fall and could tell many a story about it. I won’t be held accountable for your lack of initiative nor will I be forced to give over the histories to one as impudent as you.”

An owl cries out in the midst of the night, a gentle sound that splits the quiet between the two of them. Her face doesn’t change yet the mood shifts so clearly. To be of the people yet to be so different in everything they are—what does the fall truly take from them? Dignity? A sense of being?

Humes scavenged every bit of the histories they could find. The magic, the knowledge, their stories—even their children. Tyril glances at her again and it almost disgusts him to know the truth of her upbringing. Sending her to the Undermount was a choice that could’ve been made.

“I hate you,” she hisses. His ears prick but neither of their expressions change. “You sound exactly the way I expected one of your lot to be. There’s no such thing as unity amongst you—the only thing that matters is your lot holding the histories tight to your bosoms while the rest of us are left to wander.”

“You know nothing.”

Her smile is dispassionate.

“It was not my choice to be this way.”

Ashala rises up to full height. The fire pops and crackles steadily. A glance down and her face pulls tight. Familiar tendrils of natural energy stir all around him, skittering and crawling towards the woman bidding them to gather in the palm of her hand. She reaches down into the flames and licks of it curl around her outstretched limb. Longer still does she hold her hand in the fire and more powerful are the flames as they wrap around the length of her.

When she pulls her hand away, the limb is alight with flames embedding in her skin and forming familiar patterns. He was taught by the foremost scholars within the Citadel. His eyes narrow as she pulls more natural energy and turns the flame engulfing her arm blue.

“The Undermount has always been there,” he repeats.

“And there is full guarantee they would accept a lowlander amongst their ranks?” she challenges. The flame shifts, slithering to the center of her palm where she molds it into a ball of bright light. “I am not naive like—” She throws a glance towards Nia’s tent and chuckles. “I could never afford to be. Survival serves as the point of my focus and, yes. If it means finding kinship amongst humans, I was more than willing to allow myself the connection.”

“And you’ve never once sought your way through to the Undermount? Did you not wish to know anything?” he asks.

Ashala levels him with a calm expression.

“I’ve always heard the stories from human mouths. What assumptions I built had to come from them, not because I wanted them to but because no one from the Undermount sought to correct such views,” she responds. She approaches him slowly and his body tenses. The all black clothing she wears swallows her entire being. She moves as precisely as a void, consumes all that wanders in her path as she goes. Ashala takes the spot next to him on the log and her eyes lock on his face. “You are the first I have ever seen.”

He doesn’t look at her. “I know.”

“You seem arrogant much like the humans describe—far too willing to make assumptions and even less willing to extend courteousness towards those that share not a drop of the Old Blood,” she says. Ashala pauses for a moment. “Despite that, I know that the humans who cared for me know little. They do not understand what it is like to be me, to see so many faces unlike mine and to know that our histories are not the same.”

Tyril snorts. “And you believe I am closer to you in that? I know nothing of what it’s like to be you either.”

She shrugs. “But we are the same in one way that I am not with them. Surely you understand the pain of not knowing all of it at once? Surely you see that I find you intriguing for more than the veneer you put on?”

Heat tinges his cheeks.

“I will not be used to fuel a fantasy,” he says and frowns at her laugh.

“Then regale me not with a fantasy, but with a truth that the humans do not know,” she offers. “Become not a teacher. Stay always the brooding man you are. Allow me a single truth and I swear to ask for nothing else.”

The quiet that passes between them is so profound, he cannot bring himself to acknowledge the whisper of the wind or the scurrying footsteps of the critters darting through the brush. Nothing about her is deserving of these stories. Everything about her is so far removed from the truths lying deep within the limestone paths of the Undermount. He slowly turns towards her, eyes boring deep into hers and body drawn stiff.

They say nothing to each other for a long time. He feels nothing in him for an even longer time.

Ashala sighs and looks to the sky—to the heavily cratered moon.

“There were three.”

Her brow rises but she keeps her eyes trained on the glowing body sitting high in the sky.

“I don’t believe that,” she says.

“The ichor spread throughout the land, submerging all in rot and death,” he continues. “Their shadows billowed from within their armors but it was not just the Court that pushed out the physical manifestation of their corruption—it was entire armies, entire fields of soldiers, creatures, and magicks that bled deathly smoke and corrupting ash. Their terror held tight within the hearts of millions and their presence could be felt by the unfortunate thousands still remaining.” She finally looks to him and he leans closer. “Their shadows could be seen for miles.”

If he stirs her, he isn’t certain. If he strikes fear, he will likely never know.

Ashala doesn’t move, doesn’t bat an eyelash. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap and her golden eyes remain steady on him.

“When they razed the lands, their smoke and shadows cast heavy over the land. Entire cities would be consumed and entire villages became forgotten in their midst. There was little to hold onto, little that the light could touch and that could cast back their horror. Many simply gave in to the Shadow Court and sacrificed their lot in exchange for a seat amongst the horde. There wasn’t an atrocity that wasn’t worthy of committing. ‘Desperate’ is so kind a word to use to describe the fear gripping all.

“And in spite of that, in spite of the creep of death and the threaten of oblivion looming over everyone—there were three moons.” He nods towards the half eaten moon. “We call her ‘Gallius,’ the Unmoving. When the armies of the Shadow Court marched through the lands, Gallius and her sisters watched calmly over the masses. Thousands died staring up at her splendor. Some begged them for answers, many others cursed them. But would you believe there were those that looked to the sisters for guidance?”

Ashala’s lips part and his eyes dart to them. His jaw works.

“Why?” she asks. “Why the moon? What could it possibly offer?”

“Because Gallius and her sisters shined through the darkness that eclipsed all,” he says, eyes rising to meet hers again. “The Court...their shadows blotted the sun and stole from us the light. Their calling of death and destruction stole the security daylight brought. The Shadow Court took darkness, a natural part of our being, and they used it to oppress us. However, in the dead of night and through the pillars of smoke, the moon and her sisters shone their light down upon us.

“We had no moon goddess. We did not worship the night. But in the most desperate of our times, we found ourselves fascinated with that which the Shadow Court used as a weapon against us. Daylight became our bane for we could see the shadows encroaching and the armies marching towards innocent cities they had yet to level. Daylight meant we could see the horrors as they came and the inevitable demise they would bring.

“However, in the night, the shadows were no different. Their bodies melted into the backdrop of the abyss. Their movements slowed immeasurably. And through that darkness was Gallius and her sisters sitting high in the sky, their light guiding us and their quiet shining upon us even as we lay dying before them.”

Ashala says nothing for a long while, her expression contemplative and her eyes much warmer than before. Her lips part again and Tyril schools his features carefully.

“Why are there no longer three moons?” she asks. A smile tugs at his lips.

“Because Gallius swallowed her sisters.” Ashala’s shocked look draws a laugh from him. “Most humes don’t even know this—it is as I said, we never had a moon goddess nor did we worship the night. Gods are tricky things, but give them enough power and they can be molded—born anew. Humes believe in giving of material things in exchange for that blessing or power. They know little of what it means to hold faith, to pour life, blood, and soul into the powers that become the forces that keep watch over us.

“Gallius was the name she accepted. Gallius was the unmoving. Gallius was the light that the shadows could not claim. Gallius was simply a thought and became so much more despite it all. We sought her in death, cursed her in life, and we gave our blood in the hope that we’d be worthy of something we didn’t even know we were searching for when it all came to an end.” He leans back and takes a deep breath.

“You mean to say…” Ashala shifts her gaze between him and the moon. “The people created their own goddess? From the three moons?”

“Gallius is a goddess of a unique sort,” he says. “The scholarly humes at Whitetower paint her truth falsely. They call her the ‘elven goddess of hope.’” Tyril rubs his knuckles on the soft material of his pants. “She is no such thing. She is so much more than that. She was the last thing we laid our eyes upon when the shadows of death came to claim us.” His ears twitch and his fists curl tight. “She was the ‘unmoving.’ She was the reminder we needed when all had been lost and despair was all that remained. She did not serve the purpose of hope—she was certainty…that which bled through the smoke and would always find us. We pray to her not for hope, but for clarity.”

“How would you define her?” Ashala asks. His lips twitch at the curiosity embedded all throughout her tone. “If not a goddess of hope, what is she the goddess of?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time. That which sets them apart makes them the same, it seems.

“Truth.” Tyril rises from his spot and moves around the fire. Ashala’s eyes bear down on him. It is difficult to avoid her sight, much like it is difficult to dodge the light of the half eaten moon. “We did not want to accept our fate but we could accept what was certain. Death claimed many, horror wracked us all—” He turns back towards her and, for a brief moment, there is a softness in their shared expressions; a truth they have been so reluctant to share, “—and in spite of what we knew, we continued on.”

“Why this story?” she asks. “Why regale me a tale of a goddess that reigns over truth?”

A wisp of wind whips through the camp, stuttering the fire and sending a chill down his spine.

“Maybe…some of your assumptions need to be corrected.”

Heat floods him as a coy look slowly twists her face, golden eyes travel the length of him slowly and he tries to ignore the uncomfortable fire stirring in his belly.

“Hm.” Is all she says.

#playchoices #blades of light and shadow #tyril x mc #tyril the mage #bolas

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another-sonic-blog · 4 years

Text

Stages: Love

Stages: Close Friends Pt.2: Love (Chapter 11)

ShadAmy (Friends to Lovers SLOW BURN)

2K300

Previous: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/190526883955/stages-alone-kisses

Shadow walked his way through G.U.N.'s training room. He popped his back and his neck. His body was completely healed from the crash of five days ago and he was ready to throw some punches at the new agents.

Some of the agents trembled while others were excited to battle the famous Shadow the Hedgehog.

"Volunteers?" Shadow asked as he finished putting sports tape around his hands.

The tape wasn't for his protection but to soften the punches the agents might receive.

An orange wolf volunteered, he seemed confident in his abilities. He gave Shadow a cocky smile and Shadow felt anger rise within him.

He just reminded him of a certain blue hedgehog.

"That's Alex... he was on the top three of our graduating class!"

"His defense technique was implacable"

"I believe even Shadow is going to have trouble with this one."

Shadow heard the agents whisper between themselves. The black hedgehog and orange wolf walked to the middle of the gymnasium.

Shadow had his hands crossed and had a soft stance, confident oh his skills he said;

"I am ready,"

The training was done and most of the agents were beaten badly.

Shadow really tried to restrain himself with everyone but he found himself giving a little too much than they can handle.

He came out of G.U.N's building, riding his favorite bike, BB. It was nighttime already and Shadow decided to take a ride throughout the city just for the joy of it.

The day he was racing and crashed DR, the motorcyclists were nice enough to let him keep his bike.

He didn't know if it was niceness or was the 1000 rings he gave to each one of them.

He decided that DR was better off with Amy. He wanted to keep it for himself, but the constant worry that Maria could steal it again hunted his mind. In the next few days, he fixed the bike and left it in front of the Resistance. He knew very well that Amy was going to take it in.

He found himself enjoying the loneliness of the ride. He took the longest path still not wanting to go home. He knew that Maria most be waiting for him at his apartment ... but maybe not.

Unconsciously, Shadow went to the places he thought Amy would be at. He passed by the hot dog place, the arcade, the park, the Resistance, the restaurant she used to work at. He regretted not asking Rouge where Amy got employed. If he knew that information, he would have checked it out as well.

He wanted to see her. Talk to her, be with her.

He couldn't understand why he was so angry at Amy and Sonic. He should be happy for them ... Just like he was happy with Maria.

He was better than before. He was content that he was giving a new chance to be loved.

So why couldn't he stop feeling that something was missing?

Shadow sighed, it was enough for today. He was waiting for the traffic light to turn green, the pedestrians were still passing in front of them.

And as if Chaos wanted it, he saw pink between the crowd.

Amy finished her night shift; she could feel her eyes closing as she walked. She was feeling a bit dizzy and she was hungry as well. She carried a bag with leftover food from the restaurant but although she wanted to eat, her need for sleep was stronger.

She was extremely tired but it was worth it since she could afford this month's payment of the Resistance.

She walked through the streets of the city, she enjoyed how lively it was. Friends, couples, families, she just liked how everyone interacted.

Amy looked at her phone, checking her bank account. She sighed, she had 500 rings she could use for the rest of the month. Minus 100 for her monthly cellphone payment, minus 70 to pay the water bill, minus 120 to get groceries, minus-

Amy put down her phone, she could worry about this tomorrow. Right now all she wanted to do was to get to the Resistance and sleep.

Amy crossed the streets and walked through alleys. Some guys whistled and catcalled her but she just flipped them off, they weren't worth her time.

She finally turns around the corner where the Resistance was and her eyes glittered when she spotted her rusty home. Her eyes shone brighter when she found Shadow waiting for her at the entrance.

She approached him slowly and when they were closed enough. They share silent stares at each other and after a few seconds; they both spoke at the same time.

"I am sorry."

At the words of each other, they both looked at the ground, feeling some type of warmth come to their cheeks.

"I am going to be clear..." Amy said in a low whisper but Shadow was able to hear it clearly. "I don't support you dating Maria and probably never will. But, you know I can't stay angry at you for long. ... So I have come in terms with it and if you believe she is good for you then ... I can't do anything but accept it."

Shadow couldn't think of a single reason why he was blessed by having such a great friend like Amy. He regretted ever having such negative views of the pink hedgehog before he met her. He tried putting words in his mouth, but he found himself at loss of words.

But it wasn't only because of their embarrassing situation; but because up until now, he was noticing just how beautifully astonishing Amy was.

Her tired eyes, her messy her, the small breakouts in her skin and even her wrinkled clothes enhanced her beauty. She was a total mess and regular Mobian would consider Amy average or even below it. However, Shadow couldn't see any mistake, no fault in the beautiful creation Chaos had placed in front of him.

But it wasn't the moment to think about it now.

"I am sorry too ... I understand why you reacted the way you did and I know Maria may have left a bad impression-"

"Shadow," Amy said, "I really don't want to hear it. While you are with me ... Can we please not talk about her?"

Shadow nodded, knowing that her proposal was the best at the moment. Now that they were in better terms, Shadow wanted to ask Amy about a certain blue hedgehog.

"Would you like to go inside?"

But on the other hand, that may wait.

He agreed and Amy guided him inside the place she called home. Shadow still remember it too well. He had become a bit nostalgic, he wasn't too fond of the place. It used to be very lively, day and night there would be agents walking through the corridors. Agents going in and out of missions, some explosions now and then coming from the Science and Technology department. He even remembered Amy walking through the corridors and smiling at him while saying 'Good morning, Shadow!"

He never responded back, but she always greeted him.

Another thing he regrets.

The place was too loud for his liking but if this place was important to Amy then it was important to him.

Amy opened the door to her dorm and let Shadow in. It was clean and very simple. A small bed, a small table, and a small couch.

Shadow sat on the couch and immediately hated it. It was comfortable but the thing he hated was that it smelled like Sonic, the couch had Amy and Sonic's smell and he thought of the worst.

As he felt a strange sense of anger rise in his body, he decided to jump in her bed. Amy watched him, amused at his actions.

He was laying completely in her bed, and he took a big deep breath, inhaling Amy's natural scent. It was only her scent. meaning Sonic didn't sleep on her bed.

Good.

He breathed again, inhale and exhale. He found himself enjoying her scent, it was almost too good. He began to really wonder what kind of perfume she uses.

"You wear too much perfume," Shadow said as he noticed Amy seating on the edge of her bed.

Amy looked at him as she arched an eyebrow, "I don't wear any."

"Of course you don't," Shadow said sarcastically, he was just too sure Amy was wearing perfume. There was no way anyone could smell this toxically good.

"But I am not!" She replied as she got comfortable. She took off her shoes as placed her whole body in the bed. She laid down, opposite of Shadow.

"You are the one who wears too much cologne! When I wore your jacket, I could smell your cologne in me for three days!"

"I honestly don't wear cologne."

The didn't need anything but themselves. They talked about everything. How their week went, and Shadow explained why he decided to give back DR to Amy. She agreed, mentally thanking Chaos that she didn't need to rely on public transportation anymore to go to work. On the other hand, Shadow didn't mention the race he had with the motorcyclists, he just didn't want to worry Amy and he didn't see it necessary for her to know.

They kept talking until both of their eyes closed from exhaustion and for the first time, Shadow had forgotten about Maria and slept with a smile on his face.

Life couldn't have been going better for Shadow.

His girlfriend showered him with love and he was content that he could trust Maria again. She was engaged in the relationship as well. Maria would listen to Shadow and take care of him in ways that made Shadow's heart content. The day he had slept over at the Resistance with Amy, he felt bad for not telling Maria about it. The next day he went back to his apartment and found her sleeping on the couch, waiting for him.

His friendship with Amy was going well as well, they would hang from time to time and of course, Shadow will restrain himself from talking about Maria too much.

He still questioned himself about Sonic and Amy. Were they together? Amy hasn't said a single word about him and he hasn't seen the blue one in a while either.

Shadow wanted to ask, but he was having such a good time with Amy that he restrain from asking anything that might disrupt their time. It was like a secret they shared, he doesn't talk about Maria and Amy doesn't talk about Sonic.

Maybe it was better this way. The small moments he had with Amy, were always enjoyable. From walking in the park, to her passing by G.U.N. just to say hi.

But with Maria ... he was just teletransported to a magical place. Somewhere he was only allowed to.

And he was thankful for the two months they had been together.

Shadow prepared himself, he took his G.U.N. jacket and he walked towards G.U.N's private parking site to take BB with him. He exited the building riding his favorite bike and spotted Rouge and Omega, they were ready to take on their next mission.

Amy was there as well. He saw Amy and Rouge share a hug and she did the same with Omega. She turned to look at Shadow and gave him a soft look.

It was a cold morning and she noticed the pink one trembling ever so often. Without thinking and almost like an instinct, he got off his bike and took off his jacket to give it to Amy. However, when he took it off, he felt hands surround his chest.

"Hey, Shady~," Maria said in a sweet voice and Shadow instantly smiled at the gesture.

He could hear Rouge sigh in annoyance and Omega walk away loudly, showing off his disagreement.

Amy watched the couple interact, they were both in each other arms and she had to admit that they look too good together. She decided to give her attention to the robot and bat.

"I'll miss you guys, please be safe," Amy said.

"It will be fast, it shouldn't take more than a month," said Rouge as she held the pink's hand with her right hand and with the left, she grabbed Omega's mechanic one.

"Still, I see you almost every weekend and now I won't. I am going to be sad for a while." Amy pouted jokingly and she added, "And Omega, remember to not drink too much oil, you get weird, drunk like even."

".... I can't make promises I can't keep."

Maria watched from afar with jealousy at the pink one. Even when she used to go out with Shadow before, they never treated her like that. She turned her attention to Shadow and noticed he had taken off his jacket.

"So ... you are giving me your jacket?" She said teasing Shadow, "When I go to sleep, I can sleep with your jacket on and think of you."

Originally, that wasn't Shadow's intention but looking at his gorgeous girlfriend throw him puppy eyes, he couldn't say no. Anyways, the jacket always looked better on her.

She took it proudly and put it on as she and Shadow got closer to the talking trio.

"Rouge, Omega, it's time to go," Shadow said and they both nodded. His eyes averted towards Amy knowing that they still needed to say their goodbyes.

Maria noticed their tension and saw Amy's intention of wanting to speak up. However, Maria was faster and he pulled Shadow into a passionate kiss in front of the three.

"Goodbye Shady... I love you." Maria said.

Now it was time for Shadow's response, everyone was waiting for it, but especially Amy.

She felt time stop the moment Shadow said the four-word sentence.

"I love you too."

Next: https://another-sonic-blog.tumblr.com/post/190590004465/stages-nothing

#Shadamy #shadamy au #shadowxamy #shadow and amy #shadamy fanfiction #shadow x amy #shadowandamy #Amy Rose #shadow the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanfic

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soundofseventeen · 5 years

Text

The Great Escape (Joshua Hong)

My longest fic to date and it had to be the boy I can’t stand lmao and predebut at that. I own nothing! -Bee

Word count: ~7000

Based on: The Great Escape, his audition

Joshua smiled at your annoyed ranting, clearly finding humor in the day’s escapade that set you off all while enjoying the popcorn you managed to snag for him after your shift at the theater. While he couldn’t decipher if your groans were louder than the LA traffic, Joshua found amusement in the way you got everything out of your system.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finding this funny. If I wanted to work with animals, I would’ve applied at the zoo.” You wrinkled your nose. “And please step a little bit away from me. No offense, but you smell.”

At that, your best friend shoved his hand into the bag, threw the kernels at you, and proceeded to rub his greasy uniform on yours, which elicited a smile and a squeal of protest from you. “Find me a better job than McDonald’s and then I can stop.”

“But that involves work.”

“Would you rather have me smell like deep-fried oil the rest of my life?”

“It’s better than picking up after people...don’t look at me like that; you’re supposed to feel sorry for me, not the other way around.” You held your hand out and he readily shrugged out of his backpack, digging through his homework and other school paraphernalia until he found his water bottle and tossed it to you, all while grumbling how you had no respect for him, so you squirted it at him and walked in front of him, which made him indirect you louder.

“What? Is there something you wanna tell me?!”

“No, nothing at all.”

“I don’t wanna go home yet. Can we go have dinner and then go? It’s the same routine day in and day out.”

Joshua smiled at you again, though the setting sun made it a little hard to see it. “And where does Your Highness wanna go? We are broke teenagers who can barely afford a meal even with these jobs.”

You grabbed his wrist, ready to cut through an alleyway in search of food. “Leave that to me.”

Joshua’s most annoying habit wasn’t that he chewed loudly or that he was rude to the waitstaff (but any of those would’ve been if he had them), but rather how he savored his food. It didn’t matter if he was on the brink of starvation or had somewhere else to be in 10 minutes, he enjoyed his meal and no one could rush him to finish it. He made small talk here and there but preferred to keep quiet, and from past experiences, you knew the frustration whenever he’d say he had something to tell you.

You watched him delicately twirl the spaghetti around his fork and bringing it to his lips, blowing on the noodles before biting into it and then wiping the nonexistent marinara sauce that had been leftover, and repeating the process. Your fries were long gone and instead of starting on the chicken tenders in front of you, you were equal parts amused and exasperated at how slowly he was eating.

“I’m gonna be celebrating my birthday here by the time you’re done,” you joked.

“Don’t worry about me; worry about your food. Who’s the one who gets mad if it’s not warm?” Ever so slowly, he reached for his soda, almost dropping it from the condensation on the cup, and sipped it, all while not breaking eye contact with you as if daring you to fire back a retort. Being at a loss for words, you scowled at him and choosing to eat while it was indeed warm.

The quiet of the evening soon became a bit too rowdy to your liking when screaming fans were seated left and right. The downside of living in LA was that there was always a concert somewhere and the controlled loudness became chaotic. Tonight, it seemed that One Direction played at the Forum because that’s where most of the conversations stemmed from, ranging from tired parents listening to their children replay the night to the young adults talking about their favorite part of the concert. The various ringtones pinged left and right and it felt like you were at the front row because “OH MY GOD THEY TWEETED!!!” and tears flowed while they tried not to choke from the water to soothe their hoarse throats.

“Are you ready to go?” Joshua asked kindly. He was nowhere near finished, but for the sake of your sanity, preferring to eat on the way home. He waved the waiter over, who simply apologized for any inconveniences (to which Joshua smiled and said that it was no problem), and brought the to go boxes. He bid you both a nice night and you chose to walk home, despite it being quite a ways away. He liked walking behind you for reasons unknown, especially when it came down to eating. “People are crazy, huh?”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way, but I don’t get how people, girls especially, go nuts over boybands. You’d think they’d never heard music before.” You turned around, risking to walk backward for the sake of stealing some leftover spaghetti.

“I mean, it must be a different experience to be able to go on stage and sing. It’d be nice, don’t you think?”

“I think you’ve been holding out on me with this spaghetti.” You reached for more but Joshua surprised you by closing it on you. “Asshole.” He grabbed your shirt sleeve and yanked you to the side so you wouldn’t walk into a pole. “I take that back.” You turned around again, back facing him. “So a celebrity life, huh? I never pictured you as the type to want something like that.” Granted, he usually brought his guitar outside to the front yard when it was you two hanging out and he sang sometimes. It wasn’t all that great per se, but he had that potential that he could be.

“I think it’s just something bigger than this everyday life. You know you’re changing lives and vice versa.” He stared past you as if envisioning the lifestyles of the rich and the famous.

You smiled at him, not wanting to break his reverie. You weren’t one to crush dreams, let alone his and you weren’t about to start now. Instead, you took his plate and stuffed your face with his dinner, making a silent promise to make it up to him. Anytime you spent with him was always your favorite, even if you were irritated after a long day.

Weekends normally meant catching up on everything you neglected throughout the week, be it a book you had started reading, a paper that needed writing or even just running an errand as a favor to one of your parents. One of the downsides of living in LA, however, were the tourists who had no idea what they were getting themselves into by deciding to visit the area (thus getting lost, overwhelmed or both) and the locals who complained about them. You weren’t fond of either but what could you do besides sucking it up? Even with that hold up, you managed to finish earlier than planned and rather than heading home, you decided to visit the Hong household.

One of your favorite things about visiting was seeing Joshua’s grandpa planting something right in plain view and seeing his grandmother watching reruns of Korean movies or shows from her younger days inside. They usually spent their days looking after the house while Joshua’s parents worked and well, no one had anything to say about it (but even if there were, any objections would be handled with a smack to the arm with a dishrag.) You were no exception to the rule or any in general, given with all the time you spent with Joshua. That meant you also learned a lot of things from Korean to its table etiquette but you still struggled with the former.

Joshua wasn’t home when you got there, and neither were his grandparents so it was just you and his parents making small talk and catching each other up on your lives, Joshua’s mom yelling out her inputs from the kitchen fixing a broken sink while his dad’s comments faded into an echo because he was putting the sheets back on his bed and you leaning against the counter, sipping your soda, telling them about the latest treasure you found in your closet: an Eeyore stuffed animal that hadn’t seen the light of day in years as a gift from Joshua after spending your second Christmas together (he liked to tease you that you had similar personalities.), a binder that contained two spelling tests and a worksheet on improper fractions that had sealed your fates from acquaintances to actual friends, and notes that had managed to not get confiscated in middle school.

A while later, the three missing people walked in just as you finished helping Joshua’s mom put some dishes away, Grandpa holding most, if not all, of the bags, Joshua walking behind him with his grandma, arms looped and walking at her pace. “And that is why we go out to the market every Saturday,” she raved to her grandson who listened earnestly. “Sure everything is a little bit more pricey, but it’s as close to the real Korean food as you can get. It reminds me of my days as a little girl.”

“The fact that you remember your time alive during the Great Depression astounds me,” his grandpa joked, which earned him a slap to the shoulder. “I’m kidding. But she’s right. Don’t forget your roots Jisoo. Nothing is greater than home.” He smiled at you when he noticed you in the room. “And you? How are you?”

“Yah!” His grandma cut in, arms wide open, “Are you too good for this family now that you have a job? You don’t even stop by and say hello anymore. How do you know that we didn’t get sick or something?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“After coming by for so many years and you think we won’t miss you. As your punishment, you’re helping me make Bulgogi. Now don't just stand there, wash your hands and let’s get started.”

“Actually Grandma, why don’t you go take a rest? You’ve been up all morning. I can help Y/N with that.”

She looked at him and then she looked at you, making you feel more like a murder suspect than a helping hand. “You better come to me when you finish making the sauce. If it isn’t good, you will start again.”

“Yes halmeoni,” you saluted her, simultaneously flashing her a smile and getting straight to work. You chopped the vegetables while Joshua prepped the sauce, exchanging the morning stories of your time apart.

His escapades involved throwing a lone french fry at a seagull and following him around and almost attacking him when it saw he didn’t have anymore and seeing someone getting arrested for graffitiing gang signs on a wall. He snorted when you told him you almost got run over by a family bike riding on your way to the post office and choked on the barbecue sauce he was tasting when you remembered about the poor soul strung out on some kinda drug and fighting a bush, rambling nonsense about the government.

“Here, try this beh peuh,” he said, holding out his stirring spoon and dabbing a bit of sauce on your hand. “What do you think?”

You made a face at his concoction, searching for your soda. “I think you put too much of the sesame seeds and not enough salt. Wow, that’s gross.”

“You obviously have no taste. It tastes perfect.”

“No, you just don’t know how to make this.” You pushed him out of the way, filling the blender with the missing spices and throwing some of the barbecue in. “And you call yourself a master chef.”

“I learned from my grandma.”

“I learned from your grandma too and it doesn’t taste anything like this. Fill it up to here with water and mix it until you can’t see any of the garlic. Then mix it back in.”

“No,” he crossed his arms. “It’s fine like this.”

“Joshua Hong, if we serve this sad lunch, you will be disowned from your own family and so will I because I let you do it. Trust me this time.”

“Grandma!” He called out to the head chef of the family. “You’re our mediator. Is this good? I think so but Y/N says I’ll no longer be associated with the family. Try it.” He walked over to where she sat on her favorite recliner, a Korean game show playing on the TV and fed it to her.

“Dear boy, I wouldn’t feed this to the dogs out on the street. Try again.” A few minutes he brought her a modified version of everything you added to it. “It tastes the same,” she shook her head. “It’s not hard to make this, children. If I have to get up and make it myself, you’ll be sorry.”

“What does she know?” Joshua mumbled to you. “She lost her sense of taste years ago.”

You held back a laugh, grabbing his shoulder to keep your composure, completely missing the look the lady in question she threw in your direction before she called her husband. It was another memory for the books, especially when he finally admitted defeat and said you knew better. As punishment, you made him wash the dishes you used and smiled when you heard him finally turn on the radio and sing along to every hit song he knew, sounding off key here and there but pleasant nonetheless.

In the next couple of weeks, you saw neither head nor tail of your best friend, other than his occasional social media post which was fine by you. It was the time of year where his church held fundraisers and carnivals and anything that required massive amounts of people. Some he did willingly; others because he couldn’t say no. He stopped inviting you with him long ago when you started picking up excuses from working a couple extra hours to helping some long lost relative who was recovering from surgery, but he had his grandmother and he even gloated that she made better company than you did so it wasn’t a complete loss, his performances being the only exception.

And if you didn’t ask for more hours and go straight to bed after work, you would’ve marched up his front steps, barged through his front door, and confronted him about this calamity because how dare he ignore his best friend?! (But you started wondering where everyone was when you had knocked on the door and no one answered. The weeds growing in the garden and the pile of mail in their mailbox also raised your questions and anxiety. And you didn’t wanna think the worst when you found the spare key in your room and went back, only to find a clean and obviously vacant home.)

You made mental notes to tell him about the newest movies you thought he’d like and also saved some money to treat him to dinner since you had long ago picked up that he wasn’t in the greatest of moods after being gone after so many days.

After 23 days since his last interaction, he skidded back into your life three minutes after you clocked out, having hung up on a friend had canceled some plans last minute. “Hi?” You took in the sight of his Winnie the Pooh PJs, disheveled hair and the throw blanket in his hand, all the questions rushing through your head.

“I need to tell you something,” he said without preamble. “Can we go have dinner or something? I just got off the plane and came straight here, My treat.” He smiled at you hopefully.

About an hour later, you stared at him as he slowly cut off a piece of his steak, while you impatiently bounced your leg for his news. You didn’t even know what you ordered but you ate it anyway, stabbing your fork into it and shoveling it in your mouth. “What have you been up to?” He asked, trying to make conversation. A quiet night in a Los Angeles restaurant was uncommon and he seemed to wanna fill the silence. He smiled at himself when he saw your jaw drop and fighting to not give him a well deserved sarcastic remark.

“Same old, same old. Wreck-It Ralph came out the other day and I was thinking we could watch it soon. I begged my coworkers to not let me go into the theaters where it showed because I don’t wanna see the credits. The scary movies look dumb so I won’t bother with those.” You burned your tongue on the fork having kept it in the hot food for a little too long so you pushed your plate away, resorting to tapping your fingers on the table. If Joshua noticed, he didn’t comment.

“Is it sad?” He knew he was drawing out the suspense more than he had to but he was looking for the words, how to phrase it, and steeling himself for your reactions.

“A lot of people left crying,” you responded, thinking of all the strangers who you saw drying their eyes or blowing their noses. You decided if you kept talking, he would share his news with you sooner, so you went ahead and told him about the petty thefts around town, upcoming concerts you wanted to go to, rumors that you heard and celebrities that you had confirmed were in the area. He listened as he ate, not really making comments. He nodded here and there to show you he was paying attention, but he himself remained mum on what he wanted to talk to you about.

“Are you ready to go or do you have room for dessert?” He eyed your plate of food, surprised that you ate more than he expected, given he put you more on edge the longer he prolonged everything.

“Joshua,” you groaned, “just cut to the chase. I can’t take it anymore. Tell me!” You stopped momentarily. “You’re not going to prison, are you? No, wait...you got someone pregnant.” You snapped your fingers. “You ran away and they found you somewhere in Mexico City, where you joined a banda, and you were playing at a quinceanera.”

“You need to stop watching so much TV.” He let out a small laugh. “So dessert?”

“If I say yes, will you tell me already?”

“It’s your choice.”

“Joshua!”

“I’m serious. If you wanna stay and eat more, we can. Or if you wanna go anywhere else, we can and I’ll tell you either way. It’s just...I don’t know how you might take it, so I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Is it that bad?” you asked after a moment of silence. The worst thoughts raced through your head. He looked good, a little tired maybe, but he seemed healthy and in good spirits.

“No, but...it could change our lives and I’d like your opinion on what I should do.”

You ended up in a park with kids practicing for an upcoming softball game, so you had to walk a good distance to not get distracted at the noise. You sat on some swings, barely rocking from the movements, letting your feet drag on the wood chips as you watched the joggers pass, counting three people with the same pink sweater and seven walking their dogs. Joshua had yet to say a word and at this point, you were afraid to ask him anything. Instead, you enjoyed his company, feeling grateful that despite whatever he had to say, he still managed to elicit a calming presence.

“So, I went to a thing with my church in San Diego,” he finally began, staring out at whatever beyond he was picturing in his head. “And from there we hit most of Southern California until we had one final thing to do here. And after one of my performances, a scout from South Korea came up to me. He said I had what to takes to make it big over there. At first, I wasn’t interested because it seemed too good to be true. But then he offered us some plane tickets to go visit the studio and see for ourselves and, you know.”

You nodded, finally understanding and easing the pent up anxiety. “That’s where you guys were all this time. I thought you up and left town or something.”

“We did and got to see a lot of- they’re called trainees working to debut and they seemed nice. One of them gave me their number so we could stay in touch. His name was Jeonghan. I also got to meet one of their singers who goes by Bumzu and he does a lot of other neat things too. And a boy group called Nu’est who debuted earlier this year. They sound really good. We can check them out on YouTube later if you want.”

“So when do you leave?” You could already feel the food turning in your stomach, ignoring the last part of his suggestion. It’s not that you didn’t want him to pursue his dream, but you couldn’t imagine him not being by your side and vice versa to see each other completing your milestones...together. That’s what your friendship consisted of: being together.

“Oh, um about that. I told them I’d think about it. It seems like there’s a catch to it. I’m not 100% sold.” He dug into his pajama pants and pulled out a business card from his wallet and handed you a business card with information from a Pledis Entertainment. You frowned at the Hangul, concentrating on translating it while he continued speaking. “They gave me this in case I changed my mind but I should do it soon because they have a deadline coming up.” He paused his swinging. “What do you think I should do?”

“I...I don’t think this is a decision I can make for you.”

“But you’re a big enough influence that’d help me decide.” He resumed kicking his feet. “If you want me to go and see the hype of an idol life, tell me and I’ll go. If you don’t want me to go and make a fool of myself because I flew out for nothing, tell me and I’ll stay.”

“From what you’re telling me,” you said slowly, picking your words carefully, “I don’t know if you should. I mean I could be wrong, but what if something goes wrong over there and you’re by yourself? Or if all the hard work you’re gonna put in doesn’t pay off? You, of all people, deserve to have your dreams come true and to see you come back because it doesn’t work out? I don’t know if I could bear to see your face looking so sad. But in the end, it’s your choice.” It felt wrong to tell him those words, but you couldn’t lie to him, but you couldn’t tell him how selfish you could be.

The foundation of your friendship might not have been cemented with the glorious days of playing in the sandbox; rather it was due to him seeing you struggle with your spelling words during the weekly test and him sliding his paper to the side so you could see the words and then retaking it after school in separate classrooms because you’d gotten caught. And when you mixed that with spending lunch recess with your teacher to help him with converting fractions to decimals and percentages, it seemed like a recipe for a lifetime of memories, especially when you added the permission on both sides of the parental figures to go to each other’s houses. It seemed like there was nothing you couldn’t conquer as you got older.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled at you, “I didn’t put too much thought into it either. It’s a long shot and they were asking for too much anyways.”

“They were gonna charge you just to audition?” What kinda high class-

“No, they asked for my diploma.”

“You fucking idiot.”

No matter how hard you tried not to see, you always managed to catch Joshua staring at the business card on the fridge and it ate you up with guilt even though it was his decision too. You caught the lingering looks and how he’d shake his head as if shaking away an image and facing you with a smile. And when his Korean friend Jeonghan began Skyping him to show him how everything was going, you always swore you’d see a flicker of regret cross his features as Joshua laughed along and reassured him that life was great here and even showed him the things he managed to find at the Korean markets that apparently he couldn’t find anywhere else. He started looking into colleges and another part-time job to pass the time and all you could do was simmer in the turmoil because he chose not to speak of it. “It’s for the best, Y/N,” was all he’d say.

The days passed, with the deadline rapidly approaching and his mood dropped subtly, often tuning you out and playing his music or movie to drown the silence and his misery. His family didn’t seem too concerned at his choice but let him ride it out because he’d get over it soon.

He finally asked you to come to an evening mass with his family because he’d be giving a small performance and because you knew he needed all the support, you agreed, saying you’d be at the front door waiting for them, for him. So, in the most presentable (and uncomfortable) clothes you owned, you sat first-row front and center with his grandma and several people you didn’t know waiting for the priest to finish his sermon and let your best friend do his thing, which he did.

One of your favorite things about seeing Joshua play the guitar? Seeing the way his eyes literally sparkled every time someone saw him play. You’d seen it multiple times even when he practiced with just you in the room and it never failed to take your breath away. The way his fingers moved effortlessly through the chords and the way he focused solely on the words coming from his mouth. You weren’t immune to those charms, what with the way your hands would get clammy and your heart would pound and you just looked at him in awe because he normally didn’t have that effect on you.

You looked around the pews, seeing his audience with similar reactions. A lot of them held out their phones, recording and singing along; others for some reason dabbed their eyes because apparently, an angel had blessed them that day. You saw his parents looking proud at their son and trying to hide their smiles as those around them sang their praise at Joshua’s talent.

As for you? You knew what you had to do and the thought had you wiping your eyes frantically to avoid breaking down. You flashed him a thumbs-up as he finished and he nodded his thanks. He normally stayed behind his parents after mass but he figured you needed to get dressed into something that didn’t make you wanna claw out of your skin, so after taking you home to change and after grabbing a quick dinner from McDonald’s and enjoying it as the last rays of the day came to a close and the night making it feel later than it should’ve.

“When did you get so good?” You asked him. “Last time I heard you, your voice cracked. A lot.”

“Practice,” he shrugged modestly. “I couldn’t have done that without YouTube and their tutorials. And you? When did you decide to come to church without an excuse?”

“When you said you wanted me to come.” You took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking.” “About?” He asked his mouthful of food, something really unlike him. The small thing must’ve boosted his spirits and it showed. “It must be really scary if you’re telling me. Let me guess. You’re gonna storm the Bastille next time you get a day off? Or are you finally gonna head off to a college far from here? I guess LA isn’t too crazy for you after all.”

“Joshua, I want you to audition.” Before he could say anything else, you continued, wanting to get everything out before you took everything back. “I want you to go for this because it’s your dream. You don’t belong in just one place, you belong everywhere. I shouldn’t have told you not to do it. Seeing you tonight, I know that now. I’m not scared of you coming back because you failed. I’m scared of seeing you turning down this opportunity and you not seeing what you can do. I don’t want your biggest regret to be staying here. If anything, your biggest regret should be meeting me.”

He missed your attempt of a joke, staying quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in before he gave you the biggest smile you didn’t realize you missed until you saw it. A few minutes later, you found yourselves in his room, him introducing himself to the camera and you behind it, capturing his every moment. The ache in your heart seemed different as you heard him sing, feeling ashamed for wanting to keep him from this and feeling proud for putting your pride to the side and letting him have this.

You knew that no one in your life deserved a fighting chance more than Hong Jisoo, and whatever the outcome, you couldn’t have been more proud of him because he gave it his all. When his parents returned home for the night, you kept your composure long enough to say your goodbyes and went home a crying mess because you already missed him.

The main menu on the TV replayed the anime’s theme song and you swore you’d be hearing t in your sleep tonight. Joshua swore he was only a few pages away from finishing the manga of the same way and then you could start the series. For the last week, he had tried to be productive balancing work and home, with just getting by in school. But apparently, his inner nerd and his friend Jeonghan didn’t let him focus on anything other than the book currently occupying his hands. You remembered not so long ago how you threw a pillow at him because you had long ago finished it and were about to start it but he begged you to wait for him to read it so you could watch it together and why you agreed was beyond you. You finished the last of your water, looking up at the ceiling in hopes to make the time go by faster but all you could hear was Joshua’s gasps of surprise and the pages turning. It felt like years when he finally finished and his punishment, you threw the empty water bottle at him and told him to press play because if you didn’t watch it soon, you’d explode and you had to be at work soon and you wouldn’t be able to handle the anticipation of not starting now.

You got up to grab some chips in the kitchen, seeing as though your best friend wasn’t pressing play anytime soon. “You want anything?” Silence. “Joshua!” Nothing. “Then starve.” But you grabbed a bag just for him because you knew he’d want some. He was still engrossed at whatever he was seeing on his phone, the only difference was the shit-eating grin on his face. “Why so happy?”

“I got my diploma.”

“Okay and?”

“You asked,” he shrugged. “But since you wanna know, I can get ahead on any credits I choose so I can get into a good college and I can graduate early. But also I don’t have to wake up early anymore.”

“When did you get so smart?” You tossed the bag of Doritos at him, hitting him in the face and doing your victory pose. “Now press play. If I have to wait longer to watch this I’m gonna die. Jisoo Joshua Hong, are you even listening to me anymore?” You sat down next to him to see what rendered him speechless.

Instead of answering you, he showed you an email from none other than Pledis, the smile on his face not faltering. “I-they accepted me. Y/N, I have a shot! Oh my god, this is amazing! I have to call Jeonghan! We’re gonna train together! It’ll be so good to have someone I know there. He’s gonna be so happy when he hears-hey, are you okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could feel the prickling in your eyes but whether they’d be tears of sadness or happiness remained unclear. On the one hand, he could live his dream, make millions of people happy even if for just a moment, like he deserved. You knew the effect he had on people and others needed to experience that if they ever got to know how annoying and he could be. On the other, you couldn’t be by his side like you’ve always planned to. You’d have to support him from afar. You wouldn’t be able to see him every day anymore. You’d probably fade away to strangers who’d only get in contact with each other if he ever came home since you knew you couldn’t afford plane tickets to South Korea and what if you weren’t in the same area if you were in the same state? That alone caused you to cry, hating yourself for being upset at the news.

“Beh peuh, you forget how much I know you. Do you not want me to go?”

“I do, but what about us and this friendship? What if you forget everything here once you’re this big celebrity idol? You’ve been my best friend for so long and it's too late to find someone to replace you.” You tried to find humor in the situation but failing to do so. You didn’t want anyone who wasn’t him. You knew no one else would tolerate your impulsive dining out or walking all through LA no matter the distance or even being at home with no concrete plans for the day. “I’m sorry, I should go. I have to get ready to go to work.” You stood up, and all but ran to the door, the anime long forgotten and not bothering to listen to your best friend calling out your name.

Staying out past midnight to close up wasn’t exactly something you prided yourself on. If anything, you were out the door by or before dusk set it but you needed a distraction, anything to forget the nagging of your day’s problem. It surprised you nonetheless when you saw Joshua waiting for you patiently as if it was another day. He smiled at you, not saying a word, instead waiting for you to say something. You wished you could’ve avoided him so you could gather your thoughts and think rationally rather than emotionally.

You walked aimlessly for a while, no one saying anything until the silence became unbearable. “I’m sorry,” you finally told him. “I want you to know how happy I am for you. Really I am, and I’m sorry if it looks like I’m trying to keep you from that. It’s just that when I see you, I think how we’re not gonna be together anymore doing things. Like I won’t complain to you about who pissed me off or you won’t tell me about that lady from church who always makes you laugh. I wanna be there the days you sell out arenas and buying tickets to see you perform, not just hear about it. It won’t be the same anymore.” You cursed yourself for already wanting to cry again.

“I get you. You’re a major part of my life too. But Y/N, it’s not set in stone if I’ll even get to do this. Maybe I’ll be there halfway through and they’ll decide I don’t fit a mold they have and I need to come home. Or maybe I’ll decide that this isn’t what I thought I wanted. You’ve always asked me to trust you, so now I’m asking you to. Can you do that for me? Good,” he said when you nodded. “Now there’s something I wanna ask you.”

“Oh my god, is this the part where you tell me you’ve been in love with me for as long as you can remember?” Your eyes widened in horror.

His actions mirrored yours. “Please stop reading every friends to lovers book you come across. You will ruin other friendships like that. Now listen. You can breathe, oh for the love of- Y/N, I’m leaving in two weeks and I need to know if you wanna come with me.”

You pointed to yourself when the words sank in and you were able to get your brain working again. “Me? You want me, an inexperienced idiot to fly off with you to an unknown country while you’re there. Why?”

“Truthfully, I want you there too. My friend Jeonghan said it happened with his friend Aron from Nu’est, only he went as the supportive friend, but I know you’re not interested in stealing my spotlight. They provided the extra ticket even though I said we could pay for it...but only if you wanted to.”

“How long am I supposed to stay?”

“As long as you want to ride it out with me. What do you say beh peuh? Are you- no. Can you take this chance with me?”

You exed down the last full day, the butterflies in your stomach ever-present as ever. Joshua looked at you with the eagerness in his face since he found out about the audition. His room, once a place of endless homework hours and weekend movie marathons was now mostly baron, except with clean sheets on his bed. His closet was now empty of everything he owned, having gotten a head start with shipping to the new country. It was nothing but a place of memories, both good and bad, but nothing you would ever change about it. At this time tomorrow, he’d be an official Pledis trainee, and with that thought, often came a swelling in your heart that made it hard to pass your throat. The last thing he needed to do today was return his McDonald’s uniform and pick up the payday, all of which you accompanied him.

Considering it was the last day, you did many things from shopping for groceries for your homes and enjoying the last few moments. You even went to his church to watch get his blessing from the priest who bade him a safe trip and a prosperous future. He spent some time with his old friends that weren’t you, but not really saying why he was leaving for the homeland his grandparents loved so much. You cried throughout the day every time you realized you wouldn’t do this again anymore, but it was another memory for the books. Joshua spent the few hours at home, eating dinner with his family and triple-checking he had everything ready for the long flight ahead. You often loved countdowns but there was something bittersweet about this one, especially because of all the goodbyes involved.

It was a little after midnight when you met him in his front yard, breathing heavily as you made your way to the main streets of Los Angeles, ready to change the last of your lives. One last night causing mayhem to remember the way it felt when Joshua’s mischievous side came out.

You watched him climb on a shopping cart and begged you to push him across the parking lot, which you did because no one knew who you guys were, except teenagers having fun until the security chased you out and starting your next misadventure. You made peace with your pasts in an empty ice cream parlor, shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream like shots for every question you didn’t have an answer to and spilling secrets you didn’t know the other had.

You passed tons of nightclubs afterward, laughing for no reason other than because they all played the same songs and because the smell of weed flooded everywhere. You walked on the walk of fame, waving at random cars passing by because for all you knew it could be their last day here too, and pointing at the museums you wished you would’ve gone to more times despite the prices. You enjoyed the quiet moments with Joshua too every time you sat on a bench to get some rest.

You didn’t plan on staying out the whole night but somehow you did and when you went back to his house, the first few rays of the morning sun were starting to show. His family was already waiting for him, luggage in tow and ready to go. The drive to LAX felt like it went too fast despite the never-ending traffic and soon you were there, watching him say his last goodbyes to his parents for the time being, and then it was your turn to do the same.

He looked over at you, putting his arm around you and hugging you close. You could see how tired he was from the night out but he also never looked happier.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked him.

“With you by my side? Let’s do this.” As you walked through immigration, a million thoughts swirled in your head, but one thing remained certain: with having Joshua at your side, you’d never feel more free or alive than now at this moment. Two best friends ready to see how much more your lives would change with The Great Escape.

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