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artzzyb00-27 · 5 months

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{🧡Magic Blonde🧡}

Renet is being brought into the mix fellas!!

Sitting at the window seat overlooking the advanced city, Renet Tilly, a Timestress and apprentice to Lord Simultaneous was waiting for something to occur. Anything that could make her get out of the long list of chores awaiting her. Something she desperately did not want to begin.

And is if she herself summoned it, she was called to the main hall for something. Grabbing her pendant and staff that allowed her to enhance her powers she tiredly walked towards the hall. Fixing her long blonde hair into a braid. She fixed her outfit. Some boots, baggy pants and a dark blue Tungusic with very short sleeves. She had wrist guards and pouches hanging from her belt along with her knife.

As the door opened, her master was looking out onto the. Where magic and science merged to better their society and community. Turning his head, Simultaneous took of his helmet and put down on his study. Letting his black man bun show.

"Renet, glad you could make time to chat to an aging man." He sighed as he continued to look over some scrolls. Filled with knowledge and prophecies from all over their dimension. And some from fragments of other dimension but not fully pieced together. "There is a book I need. One from the dimension Z2000-1416. I need you to go and get it for me. If one of our Farseers' see that it's needed in it's home dimension than we'll send it back." Turning to look at the young teenager, he found that she was already starting up her staff to open up the portal.

"Won't let you down master! I'll be in and out!" Already rushing through but getting stopped by being pulled back with her mentors powers.

"Hold on, I want you to make time with this. If you gain assistance along the way so be it. Take this opportunity to clear your mind. You'll need it for tomorrow's training." Groaning in future exhaustion, Renet was set down and walked through the portal. Closing the portal, Renet arrived in a city that wasn't nearly as advanced as hers. There were modes of transportation but no magic mixed with sciency bullshit machines.

"Okayyy, let's see what dear old Simu wants me to snag." She talked to herself as she opened up a picture of what she needed using her pendant. Not aware of the eyes staring holes onto the back of her head.

"Dudes."

"We know Mikey."

"She just walked out of a portal."

"We saw Mikey."

"I know, but still, you can't expect me to not audibly mention it." Turning back to where the girl was, they realized she was gone. Each of the brothers standing up and looking around to see where she had gone they fail to look behind.

"Boo!"

"AHHH!" The turtle brothers screamed at the same time as they turned around and saw the 5,8 girl standing in front of them. With Raph holding one of his sais in front of her face. Smiling she simply puts a finger on the steel and pushes it down away from her.

"Hello!" She greeted. The brothers blinked and Mikey grinned. Going up to greet her properly. Hand drawn out for a shake. One that was returned happily and then went down the line of the ninja quartet. "Nice to meet you guys, question. Do any of you know where to find a place of old artifacts? Preferably a book?"

The guys looked at each other. Than Donnie began typing something on his wrist tablet.

"Do you know what the name of it is? I need specifics to get close." Renet felt dumb, of course they need to know what it's called.

"Shit I don't know, my master just made me errand boy to go fetch something for a side project of his." Welp, she's fucked. It'll take a while before she gets that book, especially with only imagery to base her search off it. "Sorry to bother you guys. I'll leave you to whatever you were doing earlier." Beginning to walk away, she was pulled back by a large hand. One from the red masked turtle.

"Not so fast. You can't just portal here, introduce your mission and just dip." Oh yeah, things were different here.

"Sorry but I need to get that book. I'm not on time crunch, but it would still be nice to relax for a bit. Haven't really been able to recently."

"You're an open book aren't you?" Leo asked skeptical, a girl with a staff walks through a portal looking for an artifact that's old an it's going to help her master? Yeah no, sketchy. "I'm sorry but we're not helping you. I'm not putting my family in danger."

Renet seemed saddened but nodded her head. She understood. Of all people she was the one that most understood. She went to turn and leave but a voice made her freeze.

"I'll go with her!" The brothers looked at Mikey like he was insane. "What? She needs help, plus who knows what kind of danger awaits with a magical being." Leo looked apprehensive but nodded his head reluctantly.

"Come back safe and immediately after finding that book. Don't be stupid, and you," he looked at Renet who was smiling at Mikey. "Don't let him get hurt. Understand?"

It was kind of embarrassing for Mikey, he was 19 but still got treated like a baby. Regardless Renet nodded and made a salute gesture. Donnie huffed in amusement while Raph just stared.

After heading off to the best place Mikey knew to have old things(library), Raph glanced at his older brother.

"What?"

"Nothing, just, I don't know,... proud of you? Letting Mikey go on his own with a stranger." Donnie nodded his head in agreement. Sighing Leo gained an urge to go after the two but realized that would be stupid. Because in that case he should've just gone with in the first place.

"Just hope he doesn't get hurt."

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

He in fact, did get hurt. But, much less than Renet. After reaching the library they were able to gain a lead on where the book might be. An abandoned mine outside the city border. Teleporting there, they found Krang soldiers digging around the area.

Renet had felt with them before. Specifically for them trying to conquer other worlds. Lord Simultaneous had fought their previous leader years prior, but a new one came to power right after. Taking in deep breathes she turned to Mikey.

"You should go. They're small but they make up for it in numbers." Shaking his head rapidly, Mikey rebutted.

"Nuh uh, I'm not leaving you here. Especially when we're so close to getting that book. You can count on me Ren." With a million thoughts racing, Renet was trying to think of a way to not get this giant goofball hurt. She promised his brother he would be home. Safe.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do,.." It went smoothly. For the first part. Sneak around the Krang soldiers and make sure they're not seen. Easy. Get the spot where the book is? She could make a portal but that'll make a bright light giving away their hiding spot. Being discreet was better. Did that take Mikey bridal carrying Renet for a bit? Yeah, did they both enjoy that? Maybe too much. Then they found the pedestal with the book on it. Perfect. "Run Mikey!!"

Krang bots had gotten into the cave where mystical artifacts, including the book and the duo were hiding. Aiming lazer guns at them, Renet lifted the terrapin with her powers and launched him through a portal. One that shot him to edge of the forest a few miles away from the fight.

As he was flying through the air, a few stray shots scraped Mikey's arms and legs. When the portal was closing a shot hit Renet in the back and the portal closed. Frantically, fighting through the pain, he ran to where they first found the cave entrance. Hoping he could make it on time.

Halfway there,(or wherever Mikey was going) a portal shot out from above in front and Renet blasted through unconscious. Jumping, he caught her and ran back home. Praying to whatever god was out there, and she believed in to give them mercy.

Trying his best to not be noticed by random civilians. Grabbing his phone and ringing up his brother who never sleeps.

"Donnie! Get the med bay ready, Renet's hurt, bad!" Quickly rushing over to his little brothers side, Donnie assessed the injuries on the blonde and took her into his lab. She had second degree burns on her arms, some forming to third and had open wounds that were glowing green.

"What attacked?" He asked trying to cool down the burns and figure out how to heal her without turning her into a mutant.

"Krang soldiers. They had these crazy guns, she threw me out of the battle before I got injured." Donnie glanced at his brother. Only minor burns and cuts that would heal later tomorrow. Finally noticing the other two terrapins were there they dragged Mikey away from the lab letting their mind gifted sibling space to focus.

Mikey was quiet, but wasn't staying still. Kept pacing back and forth. Rubbing his face in his hands, cracking his few knuckles from time to time and Leo felt guilty. A while ago he was talking shit about Renet, giving her a bad rep without even knowing her. It felt worse seeing his brother be anxious, especially when he's usually so optimistic.

Raphael, bless his soul, was trying to distract Mikey but all it did was make Mikey more anxious. More nervous. After what felt like days, Splinter was able to convince his youngest to sit down and rest after the excitement he went through. Getting him his favorite flavored tea(Hibiscus), the doors to the lab opened and Donnie came out with a limping Renet. She was using her staff as a walking stick and was going up to Mikey.

"Glad to see you alive," she said making Mikeys' eyes shoot up and regaining life in his pupils. Watching as third part felt like watching Mavis and Johnny from Hotel Transylvania zing. Maybe having her around wasn't as bad as he feared.

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

"You got the book, then?" Renet nodded and pulled it out of her bag hanging on her belt which shouldn't have technically fit but seeing as she was a space wizard, Leo wasn't questioning much anymore. "Are you leaving?"

At this, the girl went silent. Smiling sadly, lifted her head up to look at Mikey and Raph playing a video game on the couch from the kitchen counter. Sighing softly she put her head back down.

"My master needs this. Besides, not like I can't visit." She said getting one last drink of the Crush soda Mikey had given her and walked away to say goodbye to Splinter. Whilst that was happening, Leo went to get his brothers ready to bid farewell the maiden who saved their sibling.

"She's leaving after saying bye to us. So if any of you want to ask anything about her dimension make it now. She's exhausted and apparently needs to train later." Pouting, Mikey and Raph paused the game and got ready for Renet to come back to the living room and say bye.

"Thank you again for letting me gain my strength back Master Splinter. I'll bring some tea leaves from my hometown as a thank you next time I visit. Promise it'll be sooner than you think too." Mikey got excited at that last bit, as well as Donnie. He couldn't wait know what kind of advantages magic with science could give. Also the dangers. Guess only time can tell and show now.

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lya-dustin · 1 year

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Someone will remember us

Chapter 9

Gif by @criston-cole

It had been almost an entire month since Laena’s funeral when father comes to tuck her in.

“Father used to come tuck us in before he left on his voyages.” He says as he tucks Ghar in as well. “I remember how much me and my sister cried when he told us he was going to the Farman Islands.”

“Is something wrong?” She asks him concerned.

He was acting strange, he had been acting strange since his sister died, but tonight he is acting as if he may never see them again.

“No, Aem, I’m fine. I’m not dying, besides you already claimed Silverwing, so Helaena’s prophecy cannot come true.” He says as he lies down on the empty side of the bed.

Usually, it’s Teora who sleeps on it, but father sent her away.

“I was your age when I claimed Seasmoke. Rode him and went after father to show him, but I didn’t know how to command Smoke to land so father and I just shouted at each other until mother came and taught me how to do it. Did you know he made the Seasnake with enough space on the deck so mother could land Meleys on it?” he is sad, and him telling her these things is far better than him sitting all alone chest deep in the ocean.

No chance of drowning and dying here.

Aemma only nods in response.

“I am going to the Stepstones with Qarl to fight.” He says and Aemma wished he hadn’t said that.

He wants a warrior’s death, to enter the Isle of the Blessed knowing he died fighting.

“Will you take Seasmoke?” Aemma asked. He always takes his dragon, if he takes Smoke he won’t die.

“I don’t know yet; he has grown as lazy as his mother. Maybe he just wants to stay with his family, raise his four children and watch the stars with his grandmother.” he laughs, but its a sad thing that makes his eyes well up with tears he’s trying not to shed.

It wasn’t manly for him to cry for his sister so he had stayed in the beach to cry with no one’s judgement.

He said grandfather did that when his mother died. Didn’t think the world would go to shit in the time he needed to mourn his sister.

Even said a curse word tonight, Aemma wonders if he even noticed he said it.

“I can’t let you go without---” the princess says getting up from bed and going to her box of ribbons. She takes out the bluest of her ribbons that she embroidered herself during her lessons.

The seahorses were crooked and one of the dragons missing the third head, but she had been waiting for a tourney so she may give it to father or Harwin or Ser Erryk.

“The highest of honors, my favorite princess’ favor.” He said looking at the crooked stitches.

“It’s not my best work, but when you come back, I will give you one that’s better.” Aemma said quietly.

“No, this one is special, Aem.” He smiles sadly and holds it tightly in his hand. “This one was given to me by the princess I love more than anything. Its worth more than all the treasures in the world, but there is a way to make it more precious.

May I have a lock of your hair for good luck, Aemma?”

And she sits still as he gently cuts a lock of her hair and ties it with his own hair tie.

“Can I come see you off when you go?” she asks when he kissed her goodnight and was already by the door.

“You can follow me as far as Tarth, sweetling.”

Those were the last words her father ever said to her.

----

“It’s missing a head this one.” Qarl points to the dragon right in between Aemma’s name and family name.

“The Seahorses are missing hoofs and the falcon is missing it’s moon, good thing she will be a queen not a seamstress.” Laenor says as he prepares the last of his things.

They are to make it look like Qarl robbed him and then killed him in his father’s great hall.

He should leave the ribbon, but he doesn’t.

“Do you think she will hate me?” the man asked his lover.

“Better she hate you for living than hate you for dying, my love.” His lover answers as he knocks over the bag of sapphires and takes a handful. “If she is anything like my sisters, she will hate Rhaenyra for remarrying so soon.”

“If they don’t do it now, they will assume the baby is a posthumous child of mine.” Laenor shook his head. “Besides, Aemma adores Rhaenyra, she would never hate her.”

“She will if she thinks she and Daemon killed you. I am telling you, this is a bad idea.” Qarl drinks the last of the wine. “Are you ready to die, my dear Ser Laenor?”

“Ready as will ever be.” Laenor said as he closed the secret passageway behind Qarl.

----

“Aemma, my love.” Mother is choking back her tears as she wakes her.

No.

It couldn’t be, Aemma had done everything to stop Helaena’s vision from coming true!

“You are lying, I claimed Silverwing not Seasmoke. He can’t be dead!” Aemma cries out.

“I am so sorry, sweetling.” Mother tries to hold her, but Aemma pushed her away.

Father cannot be dead.

“Aemma!” mother shouts as she runs after her.

Aemma doesn’t stop running until she reaches where Maester Kelvyn puts the bodies for the Silent Sisters.

“He’s dead, Correy burned his face, but its him.” Daemon says as he shows her to where the body is.

But she isn’t listening, Aemma is too busy searching for the pocket in his jerkin where he put her ribbon and the lock of her hair for good luck.

It’s empty.

“This isn’t him. He’s not dead.” She tells them and all of them look at her as if she were insane.

“He is gone, Aemma. His squire was there, he saw him die.” Grandmother holds her back.

“No, he’s not dead. Earlier I gave him my ribbon and he asked for a lock of my hair. He put them in his pocket when he left, his pocket is empty.” She points and the Rogue Prince looks at her with a hint of fear.

The prince lies and everyone believes him, “Correy may have stolen them and kept them as trophies, he was fond of keeping such trophies during his time in my service.”

Why is he lying? Qarl liked collecting things of value, like jewels and weapons and coin. He’d never steal hair.

“She will need guards, the Greens must be behind it, they want us weak. We know what Larys Strong did to his father and brother.” Teora quickly suggests after saying a prayer for her nephew.

“You are right, little sister, but I do not think we can blame the Queen’s party for everything that befalls on the men in Princess Rhaenyra's life.” Vaemond nods and looks at the Rogue Prince with suspicion.

Had he noticed his shiftiness too?

“My husband is dead, your nephew was murdered tonight. My children have lost their father, now is not the time for your accusations, my lord,” mother reprimands him as she comes to say her goodbyes.

“I loved Laenor, you may not believe me, but I loved him and would have never hurt him.” Her mother says and Aemma knows she is not lying.

“I am not accusing you, I am accusing him.” Vaemond spits in Prince Daemon’s direction. “It wasn’t enough to kill Laena, you had to kill Laenor as well. I see you for what you are---”

“Enough!” Corlys shouts. “My children are dead, my son’s murderer has escaped and you stand here accusing the wrong people. I will hear no more of it.”

Father’s funeral is scarcely over when mother weds Daemon Targaryen.

Aemma refuses to attend it.

#aemma velaryon #asoiaf fanfic #house of the dragon #someone will remember us fic #oc fanfiction #asoiaf au #laenor velaryon #hotd fic #rhaenyra targaryen #fyeahhotdocs

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rachelbethhines · 3 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Be Very Afraid

This is the best story arc episode in season three and arguably the best written episode since The Great Tree, but it’s still season three so there are still issues with it.

Summary: When Zhan Tiri tells Cassandra she must destroy Rapunzel in order to wield the Moonstone's true power, Cassandra discovers that she can create, with fear, red rock spikes that cause fear and freeze their victims. Varian discovers the red rocks and teams up with Rapunzel to use his amber solution on them. Meanwhile, Eugene and Lance decide to throw a talent show to distract everyone from their fears.

Why Can’t Cassandra Control The Rocks?

The series never gives an actual explanation for this. She could control them just fine in Rapunzel’s Return, so what’s changed?

There is No Destiny!

There’s no prophecy, no oracle, no grand design nor master of fate to fight back against; the characters literally have no reason to do what they do. If you want destiny to be a goal then you have to establish what that destiny is first.

What does Cassandra want? How does this connect back to Gothel, Rapunzel, and the Moonstone? Why she just failing about like an idiot here? Did she not have a plan when she threw her life away for this stupid rock?

And of course Zhan Tiri is lying here, but why should Cassandra believe her? What does she gain by listening to a creepy ghost girl? This ‘destiny’ has not been established, so therefore there’s no hook nor bait for Zhan Tiri to trap her with.

Leading directly into “you should kill your bestie’ should logically put Cassandra off of Zhan Tiri’s advice for good because Zhan Tiri isn’t actually offering anything. Temptation requires the person to be, you know, tempted by what they want, but Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants so none of this makes sense.

The writing is desperately trying to make Cass sympathetic here, but all it winds up doing is making her look like a moron instead.

This Isn’t Consistent

Not only does this fail to explain why Cass could control the rocks previously but no longer can, but it’s also contradicted just a couple of episodes later with the incantation bullshit.

You need an established magic system in place in order for the character’s actions to make sense show!

This Ultimately Goes Nowhere

Ignoring how Varian should have been in season two and how translating the scroll should have led to freeing his father, which we’ve talked about previously; this subplot should have had more impact on the narrative than it actually did. Yes, Varian’s translation winds up driving the plot of Cassandra’s Revenge, but 90% of that episode winds up being utterly pointless, including the incantations themselves, so....

I Like This Sequence; Shame It Winds Up Being Undermined Later

Unlike the majority of dream sequences in this show, this nightmare has an actual point. It more firmly establishes Varian’s fears and gives the audience some insight into what happened to him back in season one. Something we were sorely lacking. It also becomes the core conflict and drive of Varian’s character development through out the episode.

Only for the episode to ignore Varian’s real issues and fail to adequately address anything. By series end this plot point will be completely forgotten. The show acts like bringing it up once and then never acknowledging it ever again just magically revolves Varian’s character arc. It doesn’t.

So How Come Quirin Isn’t Affected By the Rocks?

He’s right there next to them and he shows no reaction to them at all. You’re telling me the man who lost his home twice to these things, almost died to them, and nearly lost his only child because of them, is just not going to respond to new creepy red ones popping up?

Quirin would have a treasure trove of trauma to explore in his own right, that undoubtedly would connect back to Varian’s own issues, but we’re just going to ignore it and have Quirin off screen for the majority of the episode?

Are These New Character Models?

Are you shitting me!?

They built five new models just for a short two minute scene, one where none of the new characters are named nor given lines, only to never appear ever again!

What the fuck? Why did you waste time and money on this? What happened to all of the other background characters you already built? Did a bunch of season one models just get lost or deleted or something?

Also why are they all wearing green? Is it St. Paddy’s Day?

This Plot Point Wasn’t Established Enough Beforehand

Look, I’ll buy that there are people in Corona who still blame Varian for what happened in season one and for the Sapoiran take over. I mean they’re only getting half the story and were directly effected by his actions whether or not he intended harm to them. But we needed to see more of it beyond just this one scene.

No one was bullying him in Lost Treasure or The King and Queen of Hearts, so for all purposes he appeared to be integrated back into society, and now you��re telling me he’s not and that Rapunzel risked his well being by forcing him to interact with people who were hostile to him back in Lost Treasure?

And yeah you can’t really move Lost Treasure back any further than it already is cause that’d leave a giant hole in the wall of the throne room for over a year. Which also makes no sense either.

Or hey, maybe it’s just Feldspar being an asshole. In which case why should Varian or the audience care?

Eugene is Wasted

Look I understand that there’s only twenty five minutes to tell this story and that Eugene isn’t the focus of the episode. I also understand that the B-plot is meant to be comedic in order to relive tension from the A plot, but this wasn’t the best way to go about it.

The B plot swings too far wide in the other direction that it dilutes the tension too much. The A plot now has to work over time to keep the urgency going. I could understand it, if the show wanted start off with small fears first, but it needed to ramp up the drama as it got closer to the climax, not under cut it.

We never see Eugene freak out over anything other this this cowlick. In fact we never see him scared of anything else beyond this one scene, which undermines Rapunzel’s arc this episode as she’s suppose to be the only one bottling things in. What makes Eugene so special that he can keep a lid on it with out consequences, or are you telling me that a dumb cowlick is his only fear?

Either answer is stupid.

I Hope You Have Copies of the Map

You went through all that trouble to steal the journal for this very reason and now here you are prancing around without it like it’s not that big of deal. Way to undermined past story arcs.

It’s like the writers know that season one was their most successful season, and therefore try to make callbacks to it whenever they can, to make up for ignoring it in season two completely, but they still don’t want to actually acknowledge anything that happened during that season so they just refer to it in the laziest way possible, rendering the previous events pointless.

So Close and Yet So Far

I’m mainly posting this whole conversation so that you dear readers will have context for what I talk about next.

For you see, this scene starts out okay and it looks like we’re finally going to address the elephant in the room regarding Rapunzel’s involvement in Varian’s past trauma, only for the scene to immediately side step the issue all together and not resolve the conflict at all.

No! Don’t Interrupt; Listen!

Or at least go all the way and accept some of the blame yourself.

It may look like Rapunzel is comforting Varian here on a superficial level, but without her verballing acknowledging what she did wrong, this action just winds up taking the focus off of Varian and what he needs and places it upon Rapunzel, both narratively and physically.

So what happens is that, in universe, it comes across like she’s just consoling Varian for her own personal comfort rather than genuinely trying to help.

Why Would Varian Ever Think This?

Okay, first off this has nothing to do with what Varian was talking about previously. Why would he jump from discussing his trauma to praising Rapunzel? You know the woman who is responsible for said trauma?

Secondly, this switches the focus of the conflict off of Varian’s specific trauma and makes it about a generic “over coming fear” lesson mixed with an out of place validation issue. Which is not what’s actually needed for his character development; nor for Rapunzel’s for that matter.

Third, being the sundrop has nothing to do with Rapunzel as a person. Her being born with magical powers was an accident of fate, same as her being royalty. She’s not innately better than anybody else because of this and nobody has any narrative reason to assume otherwise. Especially since her powers are utterly disconnected from her actual personality, choices, and actions. All three of which have become unbearably unpleasant by the last season.

Finally, Varian, of all people should be the last person on earth to ever think so highly of Rapunzel. Them being friends again is already pushing believability. Him suddenly kissing her ass the same as everyone else this season is just flat out bad writing.

Varian knows better than anybody what an awful person Rapunzel is. He’s seen her at her worse. He’s seen her not live up to her hypocritical ideals. He knows the larger problems that steam from placing people in power on pedestals. As her former victim, Varian by all accounts should be the one person who can bring Rapunzel down to earth and poke holes into her ego, even while still being her friend. Especially while still being her friend. She needs that! Writing Varian as another blind Rapunzel stan is not only writing him out of character, but it also damages Rapunzel’s own development.

Also Varian hates magic. Why would he now worship someone just for having magic?

THIS AIN’T ABOUT YOU BITCH!!!

I literally yelled that at my tv screen when I first saw this scene. Those were my exact words upon the episode’s first airing. And believe it or not, I’m not one to usually scream obscenities at inanimate objects.

I understand what the writers were trying to accomplish here. They wanted Rapunzel to ease the tension by saying something funny and to make Varian laugh to distract him from his woes; thereby defusing the situation. But it doesn’t work because of season three’s tendency to make Rapunzel the most egotistical, smug, self-centered, abusive, self-righteous twat in the show.

It really boggles the mind just how unaware the writing is. Like, surely no one makes their protagonist this unlikable on accident. Clearly they meant for Rapunzel to be an ass on purpose right? They wanted Cass to have a reason to hate her so they decided to make her insufferable to the viewer in a misguided attempt to make Cass more sympathetic? Right?

Then where is the bloody comeuppance?

I genuinely thought this was all going to lead somewhere. That Rapunzel was going to learn to be a better person and I would have been fine by that. I would have applauded the show if they had turned her into an asshole intentionally so that they could teach a mature and nuanced lesson about morality.

But they didn’t, and here I am; still shaking my head in confusion over a year later.

Seriously what the fuck happened behind the scenes to cause this? How can processionals paid by the largest animation company in the world be so incompetent?

Having Trauma is Not the Same Thing as Having a Phobia

This is where Varian’s arc falls apart. Not only does the episode fail to have Rapunzel acknowledge her past wrongs for a second time, but it also completely mishandles Varian’s trauma because it equates it to being an irrational fear. One that can be overcome through pure force of will at that, same as Lance and everyone else’s fears in the episode.

Ok first off Varian’s fear isn’t irrational. He even just said so at the start of the conversation. Varian’s trauma is very real, it’s not a hypothetical unlike clown-spiders and cowlicks. Also has been given very little reassurance that it won't happen again. Varian has no reason to trust Rapunzel or anybody else in the show. They never owned up to abandoning him previously, and both he and the audience have little reason to believe that Rapunzel wouldn’t just neglect him again if it was convenient for her.

Secondly one does not simply ‘overcome’ trauma. Oh you can deal with trauma, you can manage it and learn to live with it. But it never goes away. It doesn’t magically disappear just because you ‘faced it’.

In fact confronting it head on is actually the opposite of what your suppose to do when going through something traumatic. Studies have shown that distracting your mind after a car crash or what have you actually helps with PTSD later on. And ‘dealing with it” doesn’t mean ignoring the problem out right, but rather learning how to function despite the pain.

But as the show acts like Varian’s trauma never even existed after this episode.

This Doesn’t Resolve Anything!

What does “being special” have to with fear? How does this help Varian with his trauma? Empty validation has nothing to with what we were just discussing.

Everyone gets afraid. Everyone has trauma of some sort. Are you telling me that my need for therapy some 20 years after being physically assaulted is just because I’m not special enough? Fuck you show!

Moreover, this doesn’t resolve the story arc from season one. Varian and Rapunzel’s conflict with each other has nothing to do with self esteem. It was about personal responsibility, conflicting needs, and abuse. Yes, self image and acceptance was a small factor in their motivations, but it was never the driving goal behind their decisions.

This is yet another broken narrative promise to the audience. There’s no closure to be had from this and leaves the viewer wanting, if not outright frustrated.

In order to justify this exchange fans have to ‘read between the lines’ and make shit up in order for any of this to make any sense. People who still defend season three do by doing all the heavy lifting that writers themselves should be doing.

If it’s not on screen, it doesn’t count.

If Rapunzel never apologizes on screen, then she never apologized. If Rapunzel never checked up on Varian on screen, then she neglected him outright. If Rapunzel never acknowledges her wrong doings on screen, then she’s never learned anything. The characters pretending like she has doesn’t make it so.

Why Does Cassandra Even Want a Destiny?

Yes, Zhan Tiri is lying, there is no destiny, but Zhan Tiri being a liar doesn’t absolve Cassandra of her own actions.

Cassandra herself believes in destiny and is looking for her’s, but why?

Why does she want a destiny? What is this destiny she’s after? Why does she believe such a thing exists? What does she believe it’ll gain her? Why is she willing to risk so much for such a vague goal? What does any of this have to do with the moonstone or her mother? How does this destiny connect back with her personal feud with Rapunzel?

It’s all disjointed and confused. Nothing lines up. It’s like the writers just had this dart board full of ideas for Cassandra’s villain arc, but couldn’t decide on which one to go with, so they just threw darts randomly each episode and went with whatever stuck for any given scene.

“Oh she want’s revenge for her mother during this scene, or wait no, she’s actually looking for destiny this episode?” “What destiny?” “Who knows. Now for this scene we need her to be sad because reasons...” “What reason?” “I don't care, make something up... Uuuuh, she’s sad cause she’s not a royal guard still” “But she became a guard during season one.” “Ignore that. Kids won’t remember. Now she needs to be angry and threating here” “Why?” “Because it’ll look cool.” “But why is she angry?” “Cause it looks cool Bob! Geez! Oh but she still needs to be sympathetic so give her a frowny face afterwards. Just have Zhan Tiri remind her how much she hates Rapunzel later, so as to egg her on and keep her doing stupid shit?” “But why does she hate Rapunzel?” “Do I have to think of everything BOB!!!???”

There, there’s my non-so-accurate behind the scene’s glimpse into the Tangled writer’s room when discussing Cassandra’s arc. I could be wrong. There could have been some intricate and complex plan thought out that just didn’t make it onto the screen for whatever reason, or maybe everyone involved was so far up their own ass that they just forgot to give their main villain an actual reason for being the villain. But regardless the over all effect is that Cassandra is handed the idiot ball for a whole freaken season in order to even have a conflict and that is never good writing; or rather she’s hit in the head with it repeatedly.

This Actually Goes Against Zhan Tiri’s Plan

Zhan Tiri’s short term goal is to be released from her dimensional prison and apparently she needs Cass and Raps to fight into order to do this. This was never established before hand and goes against her disciples pervious plans, but whatever. One could argue that this is just a lie in order to get them to fight later...

However, this lie jeopardizes her long term goal. She eventually wants to wield both the moonstone and the sundrop herself in order to destroy Corona, but Rapunzel is the sundrop and you can only take her power during an ellipse, supposedly, which means if Cass actually succeeds in killing Rapunzel before then, then Zhan Tiri is up a creek without a paddle. Also if Cassandra did manage to steal Raps’ power with or without an ellipse then Zhan Tiri would still be out of luck.

This was wholly unnecessary; you didn’t have to go from zero to sixty in one fell swoop. Have Zhan Tiri claim that fighting Rapunzel will award the power to the winner or something. There’s no need to bring up the ‘kill her’ option. That should logically just drive Cassandra away and puts Zhan Tiri’s plan at risk.

The series wants to act like Zhan Tiri is this master manipulator, a chess master like Zantos or Palpatine, but she couldn’t even tie their shoes. Her plans make no sense and often contradict one another. They only work because the rest of the cast are reduced to imbeciles in order for them to work.

This Plot Point Contradicts Season Two

His fear of spiders was establish early on, and I’ll accept the clown thing as there’s nothing to contradict it, but Lance has preformed numerous times before now and has never show stage fright. He’s a huge ham and back in Return of Quaid he mentioned how much loved acting and preforming and apparently been on stage before, so where does this fear of singing in public come from? Heck he sung in public just a few episodes ago in Rapunzel’s Return.

If you have to sacrifice established character into order to make your plot work then you need a new plot.

This Song is Nice; It Just Needed to Be in a Different Episode

I’m glad Lance got a solo. He deserved one and the song is good. However it breaks the tension of the climax and gives the episode tonal whiplash.

More than a song, Lance needed an actual focus episode in season three. One that was fully his. If anyone else shared it with him it needed to be Red and Angry, not Varian and Cass.

Just imagine if this song came during an episode where he had to watch the girls. Imagine if he was singing it just for them. How much more impactful would that have been?

Now imagine that we had a Rapunzel and Varian duet in it’s place here. That would have tied the episode together better and helped to further their own stories. Glenn Slater can write lyrics far better than Chris can write dialogue. I bet you a thousand to one Tangled the Series would have solved like half of it’s problems had Menken and Slater been allowed write and actual apology duet between Raps and Varian.

Such a duet was proposed during Rapunzel’s Return but it could have worked here too, and you could have placed Lance’s solo in Day of the Animals or something, just leave Rapunzel out of that episode all together.

Nothing honestly needed to be cut music wise, yet for some reason season three has less songs than the other seasons, even when counting the reprises, and they’re mostly shorter too.

That’s mismanagement right there. Plain and simple. Someone at the top didn’t know how to balance the budget or resources and didn’t know where to the throw the money at.

You Have a 70 Foot Shield Made of Magic Hair, Rapunzel

You couldn’t think to just block those rocks instead?

Giving your protagonist a big hero moment doesn’t work if they placed the person the have to save in jeopardy to begin with show.

I Do Not Care About Rapunzel Right Now, Show

Yes, she’s the main character. Yes, her feud with Cass is the main conflict of the season and kicked off the episode. That does not mean that I automatically care about her personal feelings at this moment in time.

Rapunzel has kept such a tight lid on her real feelings for the whole episode that this just comes out of nowhere. I was never waiting with baited breath for her to confess her deep dark secrets or whatever.

It’s not even an interesting reveal. It’s just “Oh, see Rapunzel’s human too. She’s gets scared just like everybody else.”. I already fucking knew that, thanks. And what she’s afraid of isn’t even that compelling either; it’s a just a rip off of the prophecy dreams she had back in season one. The same ones that had no explanation and never furthered the story, so why should I care about this one?

You have to earn the audience’s investment in your conflict. The character’s likability, as little as that may be currently, will only carry you so far, you have to establish shit first.

Varian’s conflict has been the focus of the entire episode so far, and it’s a conflict that was set all the way back in season one, so of course that is what I’m invested in seeing get resolved. Rapunzel is once again just butting in and making it all about her when it’s not actually her story.

And if you wanted it to be her story then you should have made her the actual focus to begin with and had her learn something by the end of it.

This is Poor Choice of Words, Writers

I could be generous here and pass this off as Rapunzel not fully believing in this prophecy. After all Corona’s destruction is still a hypothetical at this point and Cassandra really has left already. Since the episode is about fear, Rapunzel is of course more afraid of losing Cassandra’s friendship as it’s real tangible possibility.

More than a possibility even, Rapunzel’s been dumped. Season three is a classic break up story, right down to the poor plotting and tunnel vision, hence why it’s so gay baity.

However, this reading only carries so far. For starters this is Rapunzel’s what, fourth prophecy dream so far? Haven’t the past three already came true, so why would she think this one wouldn’t?

Secondly, all that good grace goes right out the window once it becomes clear that, yes, Cassandra is indeed a threat; a threat that Rapunzel refuses to take seriously because she cares more about her own personal validation than her kingdom.

Even as Cassandra does succeed in destroying Corona, and no doubt harms other people while at it, Rapunzel still is obsessed with ‘winning Cassandra back’. Oh and make no mistake, this is not because she actually cares about Cassandra as a person and her needs or feelings. Nope. Rapunzel just doesn’t like being dumped.

Why Does Varian Need to Shove His Feelings Aside for Rapunzel’s Bullshit?

Rapunzel’s ‘confession’ has fuck all to do with Varian’s current issues. They do not connect in any way.

Varian is dealing with real trauma, trauma that she helped cause, while Rapunzel is only dealing with a hypothetical prophecy and one very shallow, self-centered fear. There’s nothing to relate to here. Neither for Varian himself nor the audience.

Yet for some undefined reason this is what gets Varian to ignore his PTSD flashbacks? What?

This is once again break the narrative promise. I was promised closure for Varian’s story arc and instead of that the writers just brush it up under the rug.

From the outside looking in this doesn’t come across as Varian ‘overcoming’ his ‘fear’. It looks like an abuse victim using learned helplessness to placate his abusers.

And yes, for the last time Rapunzel is Varian’s abuser.

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!!

And and even though he is no longer her ‘responsibility’, she is still neglecting him emotionally as his supposed friend.

Varian’s and Cassandra’s Stories Undermined Each Other’s

Varian stopped the rocks. Rapunzel had nothing to do with it. Zhan Tiri blaming Rapunzel for it steals agency away from both her and Cassandra.

However, if Rapunzel had used the hurt incantation to stop the rocks and Cassandra had felt it rom the other side, then you’d have something to back up Zhan Tiri’s claim and an actual point of real conflict to carry the rest of the season. Not to mention an actual tangible goal for Cassandra to work towards, survival.

Cassandra’s conflict with Rapunzel not only prevents the resolution to Varian’s arc from being satisfying, but Varian fulfilling his arc in turn winds up cutting off Cass’s story at the knees.

It didn’t have to be this way. Varian’s and Cassandra’s arcs should have complimented each other, but instead the creator decided to make them complete for screen time and relevance.

It is such an gratingly stupid and petty decision that winds up being a disservice for all the characters involved.

Cassandra’s motivation and goal should have been revealed back in season two. Varian should have been the sole focus of Rapunzel’s Return and gotten his big hero moment there along; with an actual ending to his conflict with Rapunzel that didn’t feel so lopsided and half assed. Then Rapunzel and Cassandra could have both been held accountable for their conflict in season three, instead of pretending like their shit smelled of roses the whole damn time.

Lance Got a Whole Crowd Cheering Him On For Singing a Song, Varian Just Gets One Asshole Giving Him a Single Line of Congratulations

Did I mention this show has an odd anti-Varian bias? Cause it does. For whatever reasons his own creators hate him and that’s just utterly baffling to me. Like why create a main character that you don’t like?

I look down on professional writers who treat characters they didn’t create poorly within their works, like with James Gunn and Scrappy Doo in the Scooby Doo Movie, Adric in the Doctor Who spin offs, or even the treatment of Doofus in Ducktales 2017. I don't care how much a character is liked or disliked by fandom, that shit is just tasteless and often unfunny. But at least I understand where they are coming from when they do it.

But I’ll never understand what compels a writer to sabotage their own work; one that they are getting paid to write no less. Especially when said character is super popular with their fans. And Chris knows this. He knows the ratings plummeted without Varian in season two. He knows the merch didn’t sell because there wasn’t enough Varian products. That’s why he hyped up Varian’s return a whole week before Season Three’s airing with a massive online campaign, but he wasn’t smart enough to treat the character decently afterwards?

I mean congrats, you convinced a just enough viewers to come back to season three to keep the show on the air I guess, but you left them all pissed off and have nothing to show for it to the higher ups a Disney.

And Chris wonders why he wasn’t asked back to work on new Disney princesses shows that are currently in the works.

That is Not Quirin. That is a Plank of Wood Pretending to be Quirin.

*Beep* *Boop*...*Dad Bot Is Proud. exe*

Quirin is such a pale shadow of his season one self that he might as well not exist. I genuinely don't know why the writers released from the amber so early if they weren’t actually going to use him until the season finale.

For the longest time I honestly thought that Rapunzel sucked out his soul with that decay incantation; what with that lyric about “setting the spirit free”. I genuinely thought that would be a later plot point, but nope, it’s just bad writing

Him just saying hi to son once and smiling blankly isn’t compelling and it’s isn’t fulfilling. It doesn’t actually resolve his arc. I mean he’s at least shown spending time with his son, but that’s not enough. We need to see him acknowledge past, we need to see him acknowledge his own flaws, and we need to see him being more attentive when Varian is in need. .

Season one Quirin would be trying to stop Varian from going near the red rocks, a post season one Quirin should logically go after his son to make sure he’s alright, even if he’s know longer trying to actively stop Varian like he once did.

There’s also that damn note and it’s secrets!

You know what? That’s it. That’s the problem. The focus is all wrong in season three. Episodes get pulled into to many directions trying to juggle too many characters rather than dedicating the needed time to each individual arc.

Season two’s finale should have been a three parter with Cass’s full motivation and goal laid bare before leaving.

Rapunzel’s Return should have been solely about Rapunzel and Varian’s conflict and resolving that arc fully

Either Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf or Day of the Animals should have been a Lance episode about him and the girl’s, no Rapunzel.

And this episode should have been about Quirin and Varian resolving their issues, with the Rapunzel and Cass stuff as the B plot not the stupid talent show

There, all fixed. You don't even have to cut much, just rework the focus and leave Rapunzel and Cassandra out of conflicts they have no business being in.

This Does Not Excuse Rapunzel’s Later Negligence Regarding Cassandra

Just because the red rocks was an accident doesn’t mean Cassandra should get a free pass for all the awful things she does later. Rapunzel uses this one interaction to excuse everything else Cassandra does in season three, as if she was just some poor lost baby and not a grown ass woman out to kill them.

In fact Cass showing hesitancy here actually makes her later actions even worse. This means that she fully acknowledges that what she’s about to do is wrong, but goes ahead and does anyway, even gleefully so at times. Then she has to gall to act baffled when people see her as a threat? 0.o

When fans say Cass isn’t redeemable or shouldn’t be redeemed, it’s not because he actions are so much worse than everybody else’s (even though they are), It’s because she doesn’t act like she wants to be redeemed half the time. The show doesn’t properly set up her ‘redemption’, instead it just lazily has Rapunzel yell at us how she’s ‘not lost’.

Like below for instance.

What Does Cass Need Saving From?

Cassandra is not in danger. She is the danger.

She made the conscious decision to leave taking a world endangering artifact with her, and she later makes the conscious decision to come back and be an asshole for no adequately defined reason.

She’s never shown to be in any physical danger from the rocks, the moonstone, or even Zhan Tiri herself. She apparently can take care of herself in the wild for over a year. She also has the capability of getting a job else where and just living out her life if she wanted to. Nothing is forcing her to listen to Zhan Tiri.

Heck, even her hurt arm, the one thing Rapunzel is responsible for and could potentially be a continued threat to Cass’s well being, is just completely forgotten about.

And no, mental illness and past trauma are not excuses as well. In fact it’s rather insulting to both people with mental heath problems and abusive survivors to suggest otherwise. We don't need ‘saving from ourselves’ and we aren’t automatically dangers to anybody. Nor do we get free passes if we hurt someone. A jerk who happens to have a mental illness is just a jerk who so happens to have a mental illness; coloration is not causation.

Conclusion

It’s better than Rapunzel’s Return, but this episode was still a disappointment. A small part of me whishes this was a two parter because it has so much untapped potential, but I know it’s just be wasted in Chris’s hands.

Anyways, I consider this to be the true mid-season finale of S3. Not only did the hiatus kick in after this episode, but it also clearly divides the season between the first half filler and the later Cass conflict. As such the next entry will be the mid-season recap. See ya, then.

Ko-fi https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

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#anti-tangled #anti-rapunzel #anti-casandra #varian #tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Places (Pt. 07 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 1.9 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{Vikings Masterlist}

Honesty

“(Y/N), wake up.” A faint, weak murmur fills your ears. You're still under water though, floating away. “C'mon, wake up.” A sudden motion makes you bounce, a movement too abrupt to someone who's drowning. That's when you acknowledge the air filling your lungs. Not too much, but enough to bring some relief. You can't be under water. People can't breathe under water. “You won't die, hear me? Not from the cold.”

Ubbe. What's Ubbe doing here? Closing your eyes tightly, you feel like you're climbing back to the surface, back into consciousness, forcing your eyes to open. The first thing you notice is the cold, piercing, attached to your bones. Then, you realize you're being carried. “What...” You mumble, clenching your shaking hands into fists.

“There you are.” Ubbe happily says, walking fast. “We're almost there.”

“Almost where?” The lightning suddenly changes, and everything gets a little darker.

“What happened?”

“She was at the lake. The ice cracked and she fell.” Ubbe says.

“Get a warm bath to her room now!” You recognize Aslaug's voice. “Bring her close to the fire.”

The moment you're put down and feel a source of warmth, you push yourself closer, but arms hold you back. “Not that close.”

“Shit.” You curse, hands hovering above the fire. It comes back suddenly. The woods, the lake, and the ice cracking under your feet, swallowing you. How you got out, however, you have no idea, but you figure it was Ubbe. “Damn it.” You're shaking like a leaf, wishing you could sit inside the fire.

“(Y/N).” Someone calls, and when you look at your side you see Ivar and Hvitserk, both looking worried. Ivar moves faster though, dropping to the floor next to you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, hands cupping your face.

“I'm cold.” You mumble, laughing at how stupid it sounds. “I'm freezing.” Giggling, you feel as Ivar pulls you close, your body collapsing on his chest. It makes you blush, if that's even possible given how the cold has penetrated your bones. Shaking against him, you place your forehead on his neck, welcoming the warmth emanating from his skin. “Sorry, I'm soaking wet.”

“Don't worry.” He says, a hand caressing your hair. You don't know exactly what's going on, but Ivar is like a second fire right now, and you have no intention of letting go of him.

“Here,” Hvitserk mutters, and you feel a piece of fabric being laid around your shoulders.

“Alright.” Ivar fixes the blanket, rubbing your back. “You'll be fine.”

“Let's leave them,” Aslaug says in a low voice, and you notice Hvitserk and Ubbe walking away. “I'll send someone to call you when the bath it's ready.” Her voice fades away as she speaks, and then there's nothing but the low noises of the fire.

Slowly, you feel yourself warming up, the shakings finally surrendering as you sink more and more into Ivar. You don't want to think about what this means, so you barely move, not wanting whatever this is to end just yet. You almost died today. Drowned, frozen, whatever. But you did think that was the end of it. And life has so much to offer, you'd hate to lose all of its endless possibilities. Death will come one day, but first, you want to live.

“What happened?” Ivar asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“I didn't know I was at that lake, I just... I wasn't really paying attention then I heard a cracking noise.” Taking a deep breath, you remove some hair attached to your face. “Then it broke right under me and the water was so damn cold.”

“(Y/N),” Aslaug calls, and, hesitantly, you move away from Ivar, sitting up straight. “Come take your bath. You need to warm up.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you glance at Ivar before pushing yourself up.

The bath is a blessing, and you couldn't be more thankful. The warm water cleans the ice that fixated itself on your bones, and you relax in the tub. Aslaug, of course, wants to know exactly why you ended up on the frozen lake, and you have no choice but to tell her what you heard. But you beg her not to speak to Bjorn about it. You can deal with your own problems, and you don't want to make their already delicate relationship worse.

After you're clean and warmed up, she allows you to leave the bath and get dressed. You're eager to leave this episode behind and never again you'll set foot on frozen water. As you leave your room with Aslaug, her maids left to drag the tub away, you meet Hvitserk coming from the opposite direction.

“Ice lady.” He says, smiling.

“I'll leave you two to talk and go find my husband,” Aslaug mutters, and you sigh to know she will be speaking to him about Bjorn.

“How about not calling me that?” You tell Hvitserk, crossing your arms. “I almost died.”

“But you didn't.”

“Hvitserk just...” Complaining it quite useless. He'll probably only make it worse. “Fine then, call me what you like.”

“It looks like I won this battle then.” Raising an eyebrow, he gives the girls passing by a glance. “What was that, by the way?”

“What was what?” Running a hand through your hair, you still have a threat of hope he might be talking about anything else.

“Really? Do you expect me to ignore you and Ivar hugging like that?”

“I don't know what that was.” Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. “But I'm willing to find out. It's better than think too much and end up with wrong conclusions.”

“Ivar is in his room, in case you want to know,” Hvitserk says in a low voice, walking closer and giving you a glance that always makes you want to punch his jaw. “And he was very worried about you.” And he walks away, leaving you there like an idiot.

“You're putting some effort into ruining this friendship, aren't you?” Rolling your eyes, you turn on your heels and start making the way to Ivar's room, walking fast and eventually leaving Hvitserk behind.

You were feeling brave until you're at Ivar's door. Then you wonder if this is a good idea. Some things are better left alone, and Ivar is a complicated person. But still, you can't bring yourself to walk away, so you knock three times, not sure if you want him to answer. But you hear footsteps, and seconds after the door is pushed open. It still takes you by surprise how tall he is, and those blue eyes still send shivers down your spine.

“I left my necklace here.” You mutter, feeling a little stupid. “Earrings, bracelets...”

Silently, Ivar moves aside, giving you space to walk in, so that's what you do. “They're where you left them.” He mutters, but gestures at the table he has set near the fire. Following his gesture, you sit down, hands hovering over the fire. “Ubbe said he saw you wandering through the woods.” He starts, settling down on the chair across the fire. “He called, but you didn't listen.”

“Yeah, I was just... Trying to run from my own thoughts, I think.”

“What happened?” The question is the same as earlier, but it means something entirely different. This isn't about the ice cracking, it's about what led you into that situation. Raising your eyes from the flames, you find Ivar's intense stare as he leans forward, the fire illuminating his features.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to tell him. “I heard Bjorn and your father talking and when I caught my name I decided to know what was that about and... Bjorn said something about a prophecy that says he'll marry a princess and guess what? He thinks I'm the princess.” A humorless laugh escapes your lips.

“Bjorn wants to marry you?” He states, cupping his hands together, anger taking over this expression.

“I don't care what Bjorn wants, only about what I want and I surely don't want him.” It sounds mean, like you despise the man. “I won't be told what to do, not here, not anywhere else, I'm done with being just a piece on somebody else's game.”

A smile creeps through Ivar's lips, and the anger slowly fades. “That's good to know.”

“And... Ragnar said he kept me alive because he promised my father.” Looking down at your hands, you decide to share this with him as well. “That if I didn't get used to Kattegat he'd just send me anywhere. He wasn't thinking about any prophecy.”

“So you're not into Bjorn?” Ivar asks, and you stand up, rolling your eyes.

“I wouldn't have fallen into a frozen lake if I was.” Running a hand through your hair, you tell yourself not to keep bringing that up. The talking or the lake incident. Both things are better if forgotten. “I thought it made things obvious.”

“I've been seen women falling for Bjorn since I can remember.” Ivar says, resting the clutch on his lap. “Some had him, some were left with a broken heart. The older he gets, more women chase after him. Can you blame me for thinking you would be one of those?”

Turning to look at him with both hands on your hips, you chose to be honest. As honest as you can, because there are things you don't understand, things you can't put into words. “In the boat, sailing here, for a moment I thought Bjorn was... I don't know, he was being nice to me. But it didn't take long for things to... Change.” The moment you saw Ivar for the very first time, something went off... Or on, inside you. You don't know what, but suddenly Bjorn was already on second plan. But you're not bold enough to tell him that. “Then he knocked me down with a shield, made my mare bolt up a slope, and now the lake... It wasn't directly his fault but I didn't like him talking about me like I'm just a thing that he thinks belongs to him just because someone else said so.” You get angrier with every word, as the memory of everything he said comes back. Moving to the table, you grab a cup and pour some drink for yourself, taking long sips. “I'll belong to whoever I chose, and only if he wants to belong to me as well.” You only realize what you said when you can't take it back anymore. Taking a deep breath, you drink what's left before putting the cup down. “Sorry, I needed to give vent to my anger.”

“That's alright.” Ivar stands up, slowly making his way over you. “It's good to know you won't bow down. You're more Viking than some people I know.”

“More Viking? Please, I can't even hold a sword properly.” You're about to move away when Ivar's hand comes to your waist, holding you as he did on the day you almost fainted because of the head injury. It clouds your mind immediately, and when you turn back at him, your faces are only a few inches away.

“You can still learn if you want and if you don't...” His hand moves away, coming to caress your cheek instead. His fingertips are cold, but they leave a trail of fire on your skin. “I'll still admire your bravery, Christian princess.”

The way he says it makes you smile. For the first time, it doesn't come out as an insult, or in a sarcastic way. Could Ivar accept you, despite the differences between your worlds? Right now, it feels like he can.

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @msrawog

#ivar the boneless imagine #ivar imagine #imagine ivar #ivar vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar fanfiction #imagine ivar vikings #imagine ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless x reader #imagine vikings #vikings imagine #vikings ivar #ivar vikings x reader #ivar vikings imagine

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

2 | exclusives only.

final installment to the to my dear friend series.

prompt.“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.” (x)

muses. jungkook x reader

genre. university au. fwb. f2l.

words. 8.9k

first installment. friend in me.

warnings. implied smut, mentions of name calling

synopsis. the goody-two-shoes. the girl who always sits in one of the front rows in class. that girl that has literal models as friends while she comes to classes in sweats.

you identify with all of these.

but what you don’t ever want to be known as, is that freaky girl who had sex at a semi-public place, in the back room of the student lounge with the most drool-worthy man at the faculty.

and that’s exactly what kim namjoon, your ex-boyfriend, manifested when he publicly announced to everyone from your faculty of your oh-so-sweet time together, “come on, ___, everyone wants to know if you begged me to be your first and how we fucked in the back room of the student lounge.”

the moment jeon jungkook’s name which you have saved as koo, flashes across the screen - time stops. so does your heart as you meet taehyung’s eyes which were just fixed on your phone before you flip it over and press the stickers engraved case with the your hand as though afraid he might be able to see through the aluminum and read the text jungkook sent you.

which is just-

koo: heyy

“um, excuse me,” jisoo, having been more focused on the group you lowly pointed out to be stealing glances your way and unlike you, she’s in the middle of raising her hand with an index finger pointing upwards, deep maroon lips pursed in annoyance as the group begins to whisper amongst them and looking back at your table as though in disbelief that someone would actually call them out, “yes, you guys - especially the girl with the fake channel jacket - ever heard of minding your damn business?”

“jisoo,” you hiss, yanking her hand back down and slamming it against the table, “i don’t care, they can say whatever they-“

“at least have the decency to be original if you wanna shit talk someone,” lisa speaks over you, as though she can’t hear your protest.

“taehyung, stop them,” you lean over the table in a hushed whisper, catching the man’s blank gaze whilst he slurps on his smoothie as though he sees nothing wrong with the whole setting. and it’s definitely not the nasty bruise around his eyes that’s impairing his vision - nor judgement for that matter.

“what?” he chirps, willfully unaware of the tension in the air.

“oh god,” you finally slump into your seat, head lowered in an attempt to let your tresses fall over your face and cover it as you pretend to rub the temple of your head, hoping - wishing a hole would open and up and swallow you right here and now.

hurried footsteps of the group trying to pretend like they’re not in a rush pass behind you. words like, “rude much?”, “ugh, we don’t even care”, “attention whore.” among other things echoing in murmurs into the air before the tranquil blanket of silence settles back over the vicinity.

lisa’s glare of death takes on a much cheerful light as she grins at the older girl as they high five over the table.

“guys, thanks but you didn’t have to do that,” is the first thing you say after you lift your head, a half-hearted smile on your lips, “i don’t really care and quite honestly they have every right to be here as much as we do.”

“sweetie, the fact that you were laughing with us just a minute ago and stopped all of a sudden means you do care,” jisoo says pointedly, deep maroon lips pursed together in a ‘don’t lie to me’ manner and once she sees your lips clamping together and possibly said lie getting swallowed into your throat, she continues, “- and that’s completely valid. they should’ve know to keep their mouths shut if they wanna eat here too.”

“okay, maybe i do care but i can’t stop them from stealing glances or pointing me out to anyone who doesn’t know me or doesn’t know how i look which i’m sure is just meh,” before lisa could interject, you hold up a finger, “i know i can look pretty at times,” you offer an assuring smile before sighing at your next words, “but honestly, at this point, i can literally hear the ‘that’s the girl that tricked namjoon into dating her last year’ everywhere i go and i’m kind of used it.”

“but you didn’t trick him and he started it first,” taehyung doesn’t exactly slam the cup onto the table but he doesn’t gently set it down either and the sound is audible enough the little corner you’ve booked for yourselves.

“does it matter? that’s what word has it around here anyway,” shrugging, you take a spoonful of the vanilla ice cream into your mouth.

“it sucks,” jimin, ever the listener and the one person who’s never put his phone down until now, finally speaks the word of the day - not a particularly profound one but they fit the situation, “but i mean, this’ll all blow over in a month.”

almost as though they share the same wavelength, lisa and jisoo begin grumbling out protests

“ugh, jimin.” lisa narrows her eyes at him, face contorted in disgust while jisoo gasps, wide-eyed, “park jimin, i raised you better than this.”

“what?” the man in question - questions, crescent eyes turning into a pair of full moons, shining with utter confusion as he looks he repeats the same word over an over again with increasing remorse, “no- seriously, what did i say?”

“it’s easy for you,” jeongyeon chirps from next to you, perfect nude acrylics gleaming mutedly as she holds a fry she stole from his plate in the air, “you’re a guy,” and only then she pops the fry into her mouth.

“where did she come from?” a frown etches itself onto taehyung’s face as he stares at the newcomer as though she grew another head.

“unless jeongyeon has witchery powers then my best bet is through the door,” shrugging, you pick up the vapor dotted cup, the sound of ice clicking against each other as you twirl the straw around gets drowned by the series of agreement from the two girls.

“what does that even mean?” with hair mussed from and eyes almost as wide as a mad man in search for the truth - the only thing he’s missing is an overgrown unkept beard - jimin’s raised voice brings you back to the issue at hand, spurred by jeongyeon’s ominously vague prophecy.

“it means,” you set the cup down after sipping on the chocolatey goodness , “guys get worshipped like some sex god when their body counts get exposed and people will be lining up to get laid by him but when it’s a girl who gets her, for once, healthy sex life and keeps to one partner like me gets ‘exposed,’” hands raised, you curl your index and middle fingers inwards in an indicative nature, “let’s just say it doesn’t really help me climb up the social ladder.”

shrugging, you continue, “like yeah, maybe it’ll blow over like you said and our friends probably don’t care - they’re treating me the same but i can see our mutual friends becoming distant even though they don’t show but just this morning i went up to jennie kim was the to ask about the thing we have to do for a group project and i can kinda see it in her eyes. she sees me as that girl who begged kim namjoon to have sex with her, dumped him and got with the next cute guy of the century. and that impression of me is always gonna keep lurking in the back of everyone’s minds whether they do it consciously or not.”

a pause lapses in between you, not quite as profound as jimin’s jaw-drop is making it to be but maybe it is for him. the others continue to munch on their fries and jeongyeon just stole jimin’s drink, opened the cap and took a sip instead of using the straw, murmuring something about not taking any chances because ‘don’t know where his mouth’s been.’

it’s several heartbeats until jimin recovers from the load of information before he lets out an-

“oh.”

“yeah,” lisa nods, shooting him a ‘now you know’ look before turning to you with a pointed expression as though she’s ready to move on to a more pressing topic which was absurd because what else could be more pressing than your mid college term crisis-

“and you should say what you said just now to jungkook instead of ghosting him”

-except the fact that you thought you were subtle enough in flipping your phone’s screen upside down and pretending like you were listening to whatever whoever was speaking.

all of a sudden, the heat of five pairs of eyes are on you. but those who are truly stricken by the news are jimin and jeongyeon, the latter’s gaze being unavoidable because she’s sitting smack dab right next to you, “wait,” a tense pause wedges its way in the miniature space between you and her, “you’re ghosting jeon jungkook?”

“i-i just-“ there’s something in the way her tone rises at his name and the sheer absurdity of it all that makes your heart wrench in guilt and discomfort, “i’m not gonna ghost him for forever-“

“you should though.” taehyung waves a fry in your face before popping it into his mouth.

“-i just need time to like, process everything. i mean, it happened just yesterday,” by the end of your attempt to explain yourself, you can feel your shoulder line falling as you sigh, back leaned against the chair, the fries no longer looking appetizing.

“it��s partly his fault for flaunting out your sex lives to the entire world,” taehyung points out.

“shut it, tae,” jisoo hisses before turning to you, “take all the time you need, sweetie,” she rests her cheek on your shoulder as she side hugs you, probably finally comprehending the level of confusion and frustration all at once that forbids you from texting jungkook back the moment he texted you which was just minutes after the car disappears around the intersection and his figure disappear from sight last night.

the moment jeongyeon stepped through the crowd and stopped next to you with the clack of her boots and the sheer ‘oh honey, you’re not ready for that talk,’ nature, you decided right then and there, if jeongyeon asked you to shave off your hair and hand it over in a tray, you would in a heartbeat.

“since ____ didn’t wanna say anything, i figured she did get you to sleep with her but felt bad about it,” the hand she kept tucked under her arm falls away to reveal the hundred bucks she’s holding in your face.

by then, you had a hunch of what she was planning in that wonderful head of hers but the weight of the tens of pairs of eyes had made you wary. it was jeongyeon’s plan, all you had to do was just run with it, not run it.

wordlessly, you took the folded note, smoothed the cripple out of it as best as you could before folding it in two and tucking it into your bra. the bouts of gasps that broke out was what gave you the push to meet namjoon’s gaze with a blank one and shrug, “what? i went through all the trouble to get you to sleep with me and put up with dating you for six months - i should at least get my pay,” murmurs echo through out the room as well as several ‘ooh’s at the revelation.

the man’s face had turned several shades darker. eyes trained on you like you were all he sees. like a predator to his prey. once upon a time, you might have found the way he was so rapt with something heartfluttering - attractive even as you sat at the bleachers, cheering on your secret boyfriend whilst he instructed his team through the mic. circuit breaker had never came out anything but victorious when kim namjoon was that focused.

if only looks could kill, you’d be dead.

“that’s right, it was just a bet we made in first year,” jeongyeon’s tilted crimson smirk had been tucked with something like wicked humor as her shoulder line jolted with her laughter.

first year, you were that lost kid who bent over backwards to be everyone’s friends and ended with none. namjoon knew that, like how he knew this was all a lie and yet perhaps that was why you could almost picture the brood of clouds looming over his head. the same look that would settle over his face as he shifted through courses of action to take for that one possible outcome that lead to circuit breaker’s victory.

your heartbeat stuttered when he began to stand straighter, arms crossed over muscled chest. his naturally tall stature had allowed him to look down on you like gum under his shoe, “quite pathetic that she had to beg to win a bet.”

the ground opening up and swallowing you whole right then and there had remained but a wishful thinking. the seconds seemed to stretch on for hours on end with gazes burning right through your skull. you could almost hear the ghostly whispers of “oh my god,” “who does she think she is?” “what a slut.”

“wasn’t that like a year ago?” somewhere from your other side, a snicker hit the air like a mockery and a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a familiar scent of lemongrass and musk. how your own arm went around his to side hug his waist had been a surprise to you too, the action was as natural as breathing.

“i mean,” jungkook drawled with a shrug, “kinda sad that you’re still hung up over a girl but i get it - i know how amazing ____ is,” with a slight lean towards the older man, the low murmur couldn’t have been any louder, “we did it on the side of the street once,” a gasp from the ever loyal audience, “the balcony,” another gasp, “under a bridge,” there isn’t any more gasps - the audience must have ran out of responses, “in the changing room,” just when you thought he was going to spell out every single spot you had sex at on the list, jungkook finally laughed, “honestly any place you can think of - but yeah, keep dreaming about the back room of the student lounge cause that’s probably the most adventurous a dude like you would ever be.”

the shock painted over jimin’s jaw drop, jisoo’s eyes glancing from left to right, jeongyeon’s pursed lips and muted whistle didn’t exactly go past you. but you were more focused on the way the man in front of you, the one you thought you gave everything to, was the one speechless between the two of you.

the smile you wore was a lazy one but the words you threw back at him didn’t bloom in your chest with satisfaction of retribution the way you thought they would, “get over it, namjoon.”

in hindsight, you should’ve known it would come back and bite your ass. but you didn’t think the reaction would be this immediate. by monday morning, you were already getting strange looks and one not-so-pleasant experience of hearing snide laughter as you passed a group of students with the faintest but clearest, “what a whore.”

by noon, your reputation was pretty much set in stones - though your closest friend circle tried to convince you that it wasn’t as bad as it seems. that was, until another group of students walked into the cafe and most of them kept glancing at you like you’re some wild animal in a zoo.

“oh!” you could almost see a light bulb going off on jeongyeon’s head - as though a thought just crossed her, “i forgot what i came here for but anyway, i got tea!”

“girl,” lisa raises her brows with an obvious ‘what-are-you-waiting-for’ smile, “spill.”

and from the way way everyone else is quiet but focused on the woman, including you, it’s safe to say lisa’s words spoke for all of you. knowing that she holds the sole attention of the people at the table, jeongyeon smirks playfully, “guess what?”

“what?” taehyung says plainly.

“you’re supposed to guess, idiot,” she rolls her eyes but recovers from the brunette’s lack of effort as she basically bounces in her seat like a ball of excitement, “kim namjoon got kicked out of circuit breaker! the dean himself had a ‘little word’ with him. just. now.”

it would have come off as a pleasant news - cheer-worthy even. if not for one simple fact: that the dean is none other than jimin’s mother.

“oh my fucking god, yes!” lisa yelps, while jisoo extends her arms across the aforementioned woman to reach for the giggling man on her other side, “come here, let me hug you park jimin!” since it’s a round table, it makes the notion of hugs more plausible but since lisa is sitting between them, she ends up sandwiched with jisoo’s arms around her and jimin leaning into her in order to let the rest of jisoo’s arms encase around his neck.

“to be fair, he got kicked out because he and tae got in a fight,” the bleach blond man chuckles, “so tae’s punishment is being professor yoon’s unpaid assistant.” the position doesn’t seem ideal but the three doesn’t seem to mind - they look like they enjoy it.

“it was worth it,” taehyung shrugs when he catches your eyes, knowing full well the wave of guilt that rushes through you so instead, you mouth him a ‘i owe you one.’

by the time lunch ends (for you and jimin at least since the others seem to have another free hour before their classes start), you find yourself taking up jimin’s offer to sit with him at the back instead of the fifth row from the front that was just perfect for a not-so-serious-but-not-so-laxed-student vibe.

“hey, jimin - thanks,” you say in between the class filling up and him texting someone on his phone which he puts down on the table after your words of gratitude fill the air, “for talking to your mom for me.”

“that’s the least i can do,” he fixes you with a half-hearted smile - probably wishing he’d be able to throw a punch where it was needed but you know park jimin wouldn’t be park jimin if he wasn’t this adorable, good natured person with the kindest heart that could barely hurt a fly let alone a person. even if that person is a douchebag like namjoon, “‘sides, mom’s always preaching about equality for both genders and kim basically sexually harassed you, i’m sorry i couldn’t stand up for you like tae-“

“no, don’t say that,” you frown, hands tugging on his biceps. slipping your around the aforementioned biceps, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the rising tension of your pursed lips, “everyone has their own friendship language - and finding a peaceful way to get back to someone who hurt your friend, is yours. so thank you for being you,” you pause just for the briefest moment when you accidentally meet the eyes of one of your friends - the flash in their eyes projecting their not-so-friendly thoughts at the sight of you, “thanks for being my friend, jimin.”

something soft bumps the top of your head as you feel his neck crane briefly, “thanks for being my friend too- jisoo would beat your ass for saying this though.”

at the mention of the spirited friend of yours, you both break out into fits of giggles. “jisoo would probably buy chicken tie my to a chair while dangling a drumstick until i promise to stop saying ‘weird things.’”

by ‘weird things’ it meant thanking them or even projecting any form of gratitude which shouldn’t even be a thing to be grateful for because, as she would aggressively yet lovingly insist, and as jimin acts out, “she’d probably be ‘it’s obvious we’d be friends because you’re the baddest bitch - girl, you’re that bitch.’”

it’s even funnier when he tries to mimic her way of speech and tone. for a moment, as you continue to narrate what your two other best friends would have done in the setting, both of you laughing into each other’s faces, the watchful eyes don’t seem all that intimidating.

throughout the evening, you spend it with your friends. watching movies and sleeping over at jimin’s - since he’s the only one who owns an apartment and doesn’t have a cranky roommate, going to class with yesterday’s jeans and jimin’s stolen hoodies to which he looked slightly perturbed at the realization that that’s three hoodies he probably wouldn’t get back even though you promised to wash it and give it back. but he the matter seems to fly out the window once you stopped by mcdonald’s for breakfast.

you may or may not have neglected pending projects group work but your friends didn’t seem to care -jisoo and jimin were rushing to group meetings this morning but after lisa’s five minute therapy-esque session for you to stop apologizing for inconveniencing them when you thought they must have (they did) pushed back on a lot of plans just to spend time with you and make sure you’re okay, you’d finally turned the ‘sorry’s to ‘thank you’s.

it was some time when you were walking to a class you shared with taehyung, that his looming frame easily catches what exactly you’re doing on your phone and begrudgingly points out, “ugh, you’re still texting him? after promising you’ll choose yourself first?”

to be fair, it was a short and sweet text saying ‘hey, i’m fine. sorry i didn’t reply to your texts, just have a lot going on atm’ without any emojis but also no period at the end because you didn’t want to seem like you’re mad. but besides that, you’re not entirely sure what exactly you feel for jungkook because like taehyung said-

“he‘s a different kind of asshole,” his tone was light but if there’s anything a whole year of knowing kim taehyung did, it was catching onto the way his voice strains and his avoidance to look at you as he speaks, “does he even know what he did to you? what you’re going through right now?”

it was true that the after effect of jungkook listing out the places you both had sex at has finally come to bite you in the ass. but-

“nobody would’ve thought the things jungkook said would backfire like this,” and yet you tug on the sleeves of jimin’s hoodie, voice small.

the man’s abrupt stop forces you to stop too, leaving you no choice but to meet his frowning face, “everyone knows what stuff like that’ll do more to girls than guys.”

it’s the pause that you took. the hesitance that taehyung must’ve seen shining brighter than your reputation allows it.

“you know what- do whatever you want,” and with that he leaves you on the side of the corridor to stare at his broad back as he walks away.

there’s no way you’ll go up and sit with him at the back like you did with jimin. but it wasn’t the empty spots next to you that made your heart clench - it was the way he deliberately turned away from you when your eyes met as you entered and he took a seat.

it’s some time after the professor left the class, whilst your phone vibrates rapidly with onslaught of messages, do you finally pick it up with one goal in mind.

koo: oh okay

koo: hope you’re doing okay

koo: i’m here if you wanna talk

he hasn’t finished typing when you tap out a simple ‘sorry’ and switching to-

you: thank you really but i think it’s better if we don’t text anymore

only to see another blue bubble pop on the screen at the same time as yours.

koo: i miss you

by the end of the very, very, very long day, you’re finally able to throw yourself onto your soft plush bedsheets. your friends don’t know that taehyung’s mad at you and isn’t talking to you - his sporadic off-days being the reason for them to assume that this is one of those days.

and they didn’t really push you to talk either, choosing to give you space after they robbed you off yours by kidnapping you to have a best friend’s night last night.

much to your dismay, not even five minutes into melting into the comforts of your bed, your stomach starts growling like a wild animal that hasn’t been fed in weeks. despite distantly remembering finishing the last pack of ramen last week, you still drag your feet to the kitchen in search for a instant noodles that, after opening the cupboard, you confirm, isn’t there.

and that’s how you end up trudging down the streets with flip flops and hair poking underneath the hood of jimin’s hoodie. a surge of gratification shoots through your veins when you see the last cup of your favorite spicy ramen on the shelf. not bothering to go back, you take a seat at one of the high stools facing the wall-sized window after paying for it.

it takes a few texts and scrolling through instagram before the ramen is ready. but it’s jeongyeon’s panic-induced tone that takes up most of your time.

jeongyeon: ok so ik you’re gonna be mad at me but pls don’t be

you: what issit tho

jeongyeon: you gotta promise 🤙

with a growl of your stomach demanding to be fed, you place your phone down with a misspelled loophole ‘yea i pro mizz 🤙🤙🤙’

and if getting a certification as your faculty’s resident hoe isn’t enough, in that moment, with ramen dangling from your mouth and puffed cheek, your eyes stops on a brunette boy who stops dead in his track when he sees you.

somewhere on the smooth surface of the table, your phone vibrates with a pop up notification.

jeongyeon: ok so jeon jungkook texted me about you and i kinda told him he should ask you himself but then i thought it kinda indicated that something’s wrong

another ping.

jeongyeon: i didn’t tell him anything else tho!!!

“i don’t know what to say - i’m sorry, didn’t think it would be this bad,” jungkook confesses, head hung low, hair hiding most of his face and disallowing you from reading his emotions.

after jeongyeon ominously told jungkook to ask you about why she can’t tell him anything about how you’re doing now, jungkook had rushed to your place because it was obvious that his texts would be left on read, “maybe i should’ve taken it for what it is but i-,” he’d stopped short of what he wanted to say before he’d met your gaze with wishing stars in his eyes, “i just needed to see you and make sure you’re okay.”

“it’s not,” you admit, “most of the time they just look at me like i’m some animal in the zoo but sometimes it still gets to me.”

“you didn’t seem like the person who would care,” he says smally, almost as though it wasn’t meant for you but for himself.

you want to laugh, “that’s cause that’s what half-drunk me is most of the time and you’ve only ever known her - but on campus, i’m that girl who walks in the hallway with her head down and wanna be as invisible as i can... because i hate conflicts and being seen means i’ll most likely get into some shit... like i did with namjoon.”

kim namjoon saw you when no one else paid attention. mostly because the outstanding ones in your batch were taking the spotlight in freshmen year. the positions became apparent a little over two weeks after the first class. and you were still wondering around, in search for like minded beings. instead of finding friends, you found a god.

or so what they call a once in a lifetime genius.

“yea- i don’t really know you,” if it isn’t for the way his head snaps your way and the heartbreaking strain in his voice, you would have had a better time holding out, “i don’t even know what your favorite color is but i promise i’ll never hurt you like he did,” when he meets your gaze, all control seem to seep out of you and all you want is to take everything back

“i’m sorry- i just- it’s stupid, cutting you off just ’cause of that-“ the sound chains of the swing echo into the chilly night air as you prop your elbows on your knee, torso bent forward while you cup your face with your hands, maybe if you rubbed hard enough the stupid will come off, “i know it’s nobody’s fault but then there’s tae and he was the only one who thought i should stop talking to you- but he’s also the most reasonable person in our friend group and i-“ you almost choke on pure air, “i’m sorry.”

and so you end up at a park a few blocks away, you choosing to sit on the swing whilst he leans against the monkey bar a few feet away.

“it’s not okay,” jungkook’s voice fills your ears - he doesn’t sound as mad as you thought he’d be but his words say otherwise.

until you hear the scrape of soles on dirt. and just as you thought he was leaving, a hand lands on your knee, “but i forgive you.”

the smile you see when you peek through your fingers is familiar. boyish like its owner but endearing all the same,“and nothing that makes you feel like your peace is disturbed, is stupid,” but then the smile down turns into a frown, eyebrows knitting together, “i just wish you told me so you didn’t have to go through this alone.”

“i wasn’t alone - i had my friends,” it’s right after the words hit the air and a flash of disappointment crosses jungkook’s eyes, do you belatedly realize that you were indirectly calling him a non-friend.

“right,” the smile he fixes you breaks your heart - even more so when you see how he’s struggling to be happy for you whilst pushing down the hurt in his eyes, “that’s great - it’s great that you weren’t alone.”

or someone outside of your exclusives-only circle. well, he was - he isn’t exactly someone you’d befriend like you would your current friends. but it must have sounded like he was demoted to a friend who you say hi’s to and don’t share personal hardships and happiness with.

“yeah,” you echo in agreement before biting your bottom lip, gaze switching from his hand to his arm and finally his deep brown eyes that appear hazel underneath the light of the lamppost, “can we still be friends?”

the short but straightforward, “no” on jungkook’s part echoes in the air.

it takes a moment for you to register the two-letter word, as if it’s the hardest to fathom and before you know it, your jaw is on the ground, after a surprised, “what-”

in all honesty, you were the one who wanted to cut jungkook off from your life - for an absurd reason at that - but still, with how he patiently listened to you and even forgave you, you thought he’d at least want to stay friends. maybe he doesn’t want to be that kind of friend anymore. or maybe he doesn’t want to be your friend if you’re not that kind of friends anymore. maybe-

“i don’t wanna be just friends,” the confession falls out from his lips when you least expect it. almost as though you weren’t the only one who could read the other like an open book.

but despite his confidence the first time, you still see the traces of hesitance in the way he takes a moment longer to continue, “i... i want to know you- not the drunk you, not the campus you, but you you.”

this time, you can’t control the trickle of laughter that tumbles out of your mouth. it’s dry and a little bit broken, but still comes from a humorous place, “you’re probably gonna be disappointed as hell.”

“is that a yes?” the flash of starlight in jungkook’s eyesmile causes your heart to swell with a sort of fullness. the chains clink into the air as he grips it with his hands, using them to hoist himself up - but he doesn’t stand straight. instead,he leans his forehead on yours, “say yes.”

the smile that slips on your face is involuntary. completely out of your control as you affirm, “it’s a yes.”

“so is that tae’s hoodie?” jungkook asks as you walk down the street to your apartment.

the “what?” that slips out of your mouth is more surprised than anything else but it seems like that’s what made the man rush out his explanation - which he didn’t really need to but you appreciate it anyway.

“it’s just- you’re not a hoodie girl,” you don’t miss the way he scrunches his nose as he struggles to find the proper words, you think it’s cute - you think jungkook’s cute, “you’re more like a sweaters girl - or like, that’s what i see you wear in the morning before you kick me out.”

chuckling, you relieve him of his curiosity with a “no, it’s not tae’s.”

he beams at you like a morning sun until you add, “it’s jimin’s.”

“o-oh,” he nods but doesn’t press on.

“he’s also one of my best friend - they dragged me to movie’s night and we crashed at jimin’s last night,” you say.

“oh.” the pearly whites peek from underneath his lips again, eyes lighting up like stars.

but then, before you know it, you’re standing at the entrance of your apartment.

“thanks for walking me home,” on your part, you don’t really want to part.

“yeah, no problem,” if you didn’t know any better, jungkook’s foot scuffling against the dirt doesn’t really give off a willing farewell vibe either.

until you both blurt out at the same time-

“do you wanna come in?”

“i mean it when i said i missed you.”

an echoing silence settles between you for the longest moment - or in fact, just a second too long but with all that’s happened and the friendships you can see breaking, jeon jungkook’s is one you’re not going to let go that easily.

not again.

“come inside,” you say.

and this time, you’re not asking.

jungkook’s breath is hot against your neck as you groan from the impact of your back and head hitting the door as soon as it closes, his hands under your thighs.

but you’re fast to recover, hands snaking up his chest until they reach his strained jawline, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you, “show me how much you missed me.”

a familiar glint flashes across his eyes at your challenge before his gaze falls to the borrowed deep blue hoodie you have on, “take that off. now.”

deciding against taunting him some more, you pull the piece of clothing over your head before dropping it next to the can of beer, snacks and energy bars you bought from the convenience store.

it doesn’t take much for you to lean into him enough not to let yourself topple over backwards - maybe it’s the hundreds of times he’s carried you like this, maybe he’s the only person you trust to grab you by the bottom of your ass and you’d instantly know where to wrap your legs around.

or maybe, just maybe, you missed jungkook too.

but either way, you kiss him once after he slams you against your bed. you kiss him a few more times as he slides in and out of you like every crevice of your core is made for him. you’re in the middle of kissing him when he hits ghat sweet spot that gets you moaning mid-kiss. he doesn’t seem to mind as he bites your bottom lips, letting you ride your high whilst he dedicates himself to you. to your pleasure.

and you kiss him when he thrusts deep into you as you both reach a different kind of euphoria together, holding each other tightly as if the other would fade if you didn’t.

since your bed is a single bed and you were occupying most of it, you have to scoot to make space for an extra person. you let him have the pillow while you keep your head raised midair until he slips his arm under it, his other hand pulling your back against his front before he pulls the cover over you.

the digits in the corner of your phone tells you that you’re probably going to end up rushing to your 8 am tomorrow but at the moment, with the moonlight pouring through the window and a distant sound of cars in the main street filling the room, there’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here.

“it’s orange - my favorite color is orange, like the sunset,” you’re pretty sure your voice is half-slurred from the fatigue of the day creeping up to you, but jungkook surprisingly heard it right because-

“we should go sunset watching someday,” he suggests.

“mhm,” you hum, not opposed of that idea at all, “what’s your...” you drag out, shifting through words until you find the one you’re most curious about, “favorite dessert?”

“besides you?” he chuckles when you let out an involuntary gasp at his insinuation before humming in contemplation, “ice creams.”

“are you free this sunday?” you ask.

“yeah, why?” his voice is laced with a hint of wonder.

“let’s go to an ice cream parlor,” by now, you’re pretty sure he barely understands what you’re saying as your eyes begin to droop, “let’s do things people do outside of parties - i wanna get to know you, koo.”

for the longest moment, you thought it’s him that’s fallen asleep because of the lack of affirmation.

that is, until he murmurs with the smallest voice, “yeah, i’d like that.”

you wake up to the sound of your daily alarm blaring across the room. but much to your dismay, when you slip your hand under the pillow - which unnaturally becomes a texture of spiky but fluffy treads - you come to a morbid realization that isn’t there.

which means wherever your gosh darn phone is, you’re going to have to find it to hit the snooze button because you can’t sleep with that deafening noise but if you do get up, you won’t be able to fall back asleep.

that is, until a different kind of sound, one that knows your name, grumble out a, “___, turn that shit off,” while a hand band around your waist, pulling you into a whole body.

for the briefest moment, you forget about the sound, heart skipping a dangerous beat as your mind shift through your memories, searching for something you can use for a self defense before it finally settles down with a realization that the only other person who could be complaining about your alarm because they were in bed with you, is jeon jungkook.

“god damn it,” you grumble with eyes barely open and mind half-awake while you pick up each article of clothing that are strewn across the room, “where did you throw my phone, jungkook?”

the man in your bed slurs out some incomprehensible words, leaving you with nothing but your wits and your wills and a little bit of urgency because your roommate may not be home most of the time but she definitely is in the morning. her schedule is more unpredictable than yours.

after a good one minute, you finally found your phone not on the floor but under the sheets right next to jungkook’s thigh. considering you spent a good chunk of your remaining sleepiness looking for it, you’re now out of the sleep essence and wide awake.

it looks like you caused quite a stir. jeongyeon’s text alone amounts to 36 notifs while each of your friend private messaged you an average of 5-12 texts each. the lowest being jimin and lisa who teetered on the line of ‘hey jeongyeon told me’s and ‘text me when you see this’ while jisoo’s are full out capsing and taehyung is a mixture of jimin and lisa with a missed call.

but what you don’t expect to see among the pile of notification, is the one pushed to the bottom by your friends’.

“oh, wow, kim namjoon texted me,” you blurt out, not knowing that a slip of tongue would cause a burst of reaction from the sleeping male in your bed.

shooting up with the sheets still covering his head, he yanks them down and fixes you with a wide-eyed, disbelieving gaze, “kim namjoon what now?”

it takes you a moment to digest the fact that he couldn’t even form a proper sentence or even grope around on the bed to help you look for your phone yet a single name and a verb could literally shock the sleep out of him. but you’re not one to hold onto grudges so you casually say, “he texted me.”

when you don’t offer anything else, the man finally asks, “well... what did he say?”

“’hey,’“ you echo the one worded text before slinging your towel over your shoulder.

“and?” hurried steps follow you into the hallway, an awkward ‘don’t-look-pressed’ laugh accompanying them, “...what did you say?”

“why?” you turn around abruptly, almost causing your follower to run right into you before he quickly halts himself, eyes slanting to the wall as he scratches his unclothed chest.

“i- uh, i don’t know - just curious i guess,” he mumbles out.

at that, the chuckles you’ve been holding back spills out of your mouth like waterfall. he opens his arms for you when you slip yours around his waist, locking your hands on his back, “i didn’t reply but if i did, it’s probably to tell him to stop texting me.”

the heartwarming ‘oh’ that tumbles out of his mouth is followed by a tuck in the corners of his lips, doe eyes filling with a sort of heat that makes your heart skip a beat.

that is, until fear flashes across his face, “wait, what time is it? don’t you have 8 am’s on tuesdays? i should leave-”

“nah,” you shake your head, a smile making home on your lips, “i’m skipping. you wanna get breakfast at mcdonald’s?”

instead of an affirmation, jungkook’s panicked face turns to a frown, hands coming to cup your cheeks as he twists it from left to right, as though looking for something and you know why-

“who are you and what have you done to sober ___?” he demands.

laughter trickles out of your mouth as you struggle to get out of his grasp while he demands you return you back, “___ would drag my ass to the door at ass crack o’clock when she has 8 am’s. bring her back!”

but in your fit of giggles and his exorcist-esque shouting, jungkook stops and pecks you on your mouth, “just kidding,” you don’t think you can ever get used to that boyish smile of his, “i would love to have our first sober date at mcdonald’s.”

as if a giggle switch has been switched on, you laugh some more, cheeks hurting and tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at the way he makes it sound like you’re asking him to a date.

and you’re not quite against that idea.

so you find yourself at the mcdonald’s five minutes away from your campus. if you have any fucks at all to give, you would be worried about meeting your casual friends. but something about jeon jungkook and your friends’ - your real friends - endless support from yesterday has turned you into a woman of steel. or, really, just mixed party-you and sober-you together.

“apparently he wants to get back together because he thinks it’ll help fix everything but i know he just wants to save his ass - oh, did you know the dean, jimin’s mom, kicked him out of circuit breaker?” you casually say before chugging on your coffee before the sound of someone choking a whole lung drums in your ears.

turning to you with flushed cheeks and post-lung cough, jungkook demands, “you can’t just dump things like this on me- you gotta give me a warning first.”

“i did,” you counter, and just as his face spells ‘when?’ you quickly add, “at home - when i said kim namjoon texted me.”

“babe, that was 30 minutes ago,” jungkook says, in a matter-of-factly.

but all you hear is the name he calls you, “i kinda like that.”

he smiles shyly but still say, “what? babe?”

“yes,” you place your phone on the table, forgetting the open text as you lean closer to jungkook before enunciating the word “babe?”

his hand finds its way to your chin while yours slip underneath his shirt as he guides your face to his lips. but just before you’re about to kiss, the sound of voices - familiar ones at that - pour into the otherwise quiet vicinity. drawn by your curiosity, you tilt your head just the slightest bit to peak at the newcomers when you feel the heat of pairs of eyes burn into your head.

“shit,” you blurt out.

“oh my god,” jisoo gasps while lisa lets out a muted whistle, murmuring a “whew, chile, the audacity of some men.”

jeongyeon snickers as she leans away from lisa who’s holding your phone with namjoon’s text open, “i know what’s going on,” she waves a hand gun at you, “you’re doing great now and he’s sad and lonely-”

“or he wants to show the dean you guys made up so he can get into circuit breaker again,” taehyung chimes in, leaning against the chair, volunteering to pick up everyone’s order from the counter, “you know, just a thought.”

“no, no, no,” lisa interjects, “it’s more than just that with these men - he wants you to think that he’s the only one that can... ‘save’ you.”

“from what?” jimin asks, innocent round eyes looking around until jisoo sighs.

“god, jimin, it’s obvious,” she fixes him a pointed look, “___’s being labelled a manipulating bitch,” she turns to you and winks, “which you aren’t, manipulating - mean but a bitch? yes, and the baddest,” and then she shifts her attention to jimin, “and he’s saying if she gets back with him, he’ll ‘clear things up’ because apparently people tend to take men’s words more seriously than women and he knows that.”

“word,” lisa shakes her head.

“but ___’s not gonna get with namjoon because she has a jungkook,” jeongyeon’s proclamation isn’t entirely baseless yet the way all eyes turns to you tells you that it’s not exactly an established fact - especially when everyone at the table knows that you were ghosting jungkook just yesterday.

“i mean,” jungkook begins from next to you, fidgeting in his seat but avoiding your gaze when you turn to him, “___ can do whatever she wants.”

a pregnant silence lapses between you as you feel your friends exchanging dubious looks with each other. taehyung’s disapproving frown is the hardest to miss because it must have come across as jungkook not being serious enough with you.

but knowing the aforementioned man and how he never assumes your needs and wants - unless you’re having sex because he knows exactly how you like it - you know he doesn’t want to pressure you to be with him.

“i’m not getting with namjoon,” you announce for yourself, shooting the him a smile just before taehyung leaves to get your food.

“i’ll go help tae,” and with that, you skip over to the taller man, catching onto jisoo’s interrogative “so, are you guys like, exclusive now?”

“hey,” you greet the man that’s about to lift the tray of cheeseburgers, drinks, apple pies and mcflurries.

he echoes your greeting with a passive one and you both walk to the chili counter in silence. when he sets the tray down, you’re already picking up one of the tiny paper cups, “so, jungkook came and check up on me yesterday and stayed over to make sure i’m okay.”

he doesn’t need to know you had sex in between.

“he’s a really good guy - and he only said what he said just now cause he doesn’t want me to feel pressured to choose between being with him, or with namjoon or just being single,” you add when it doesn’t seem like he doesn’t have anything to say.

“i’m sorry for acting like a dick yesterday,” he finally breaks his silence with a one breathed sentence, his hand picking up the chili sauce filled cup off your hands.

and that’s when you see your opening, “it’s fine,” you quickly accept but stand your ground, “but jeongyeon also said something about a bet but you didn’t criticize her- i’m not trying to point out who did what worse but it looks like you’re more critical of jungkook because you don’t personally know him.”

“i thought i know a fuck boy when i see one,” he grunts like a sulking child.

“honestly, what does fuck boy even mean?” shrugging, you raised your brows at his okay-get-to-the-point look, “jimin’s kind of a fuck boy if you think about it but we love anyway.”

when he doesn’t seem to deny your allegations, you continue, “and if jungkook’s a fuck boy, then i’m a fuck girl because i-“

“uh,” he recoils like a teen getting sat down for the birds and bees talk,“okay, okay. i get it - spare me the details.”

rolling your eyes at his dramatic reaction, you end with a “see, name calling doesn’t make sense, not to mention hurtful to the person being called that name. they’re a a human being with feelings.”

it’s the ‘i know’ at the end that got him. even though he hadn’t seen you being taunted and ridiculed that day, didn’t mean it stopped. you were just good at masking it because you knew better. knew that you had friends that would stand by you all the way - heck, jisoo even made a scene out of people looking at you the day before.

“i’ll try to not be so judgy,” taehyung announces before scrunching up his face, “but is him hanging out with us gonna be a permanent thing?”

“thank you for trying,” you fix him a proud smile as he picks up the tray to head to where the others are, “and he’s my friend too so yes, it’s going to be a permanent thing.”

“... say ‘cactus jack sent me’?” jeongyeon is in the middle of putting jimin up to walking over to the counter and saying the infamous line to the worker when you slip back into your seat.

“and travis scott’s burger,” and apparently lisa too.

jimin’s eyes disappear behind his lids as he chuckles at their attempts but he doesn’t exactly oppose the idea.

“hey,” jungkook’s eyes lights up when he sees you.

“so how was the interrogation session my girl friends?” you can’t help the devious grin that slips onto your face at the admittance that you may or may have not purposely left jungkook with your friends for the ice breaking slash interrogating session whilst you patch up your own friendship with your other friend.

“not bad,” he shrugs, “they even showed me your sleeping pics to scare me off but they forgot i wake up to that face almost every few days a week.”

at that revelation, your jaw drops to the ground, mind recalling the many times your open-mouth sleeping pictures have been sent into the group chat as a meme and it was not pretty.

“they did not,” your cheeks heat up as you make a mental note to gather everyone up and force them to finally delete that picture.

“don’t worry you’re not getting rid of me that easily babe,” unaware of the extent of the war raging inside you, he pecks your forehead and continues eating his fries.

“do i really look like that when i sleep?” you finally ask after clicking on the safety belt.

even though you could have rode with your friend in jimin’s car, jungkook insists to send you to class as a proper mark for the end of your first date.

“mhm,” jungkook hums casually as he turns on the car.

“and you still like me?” you’re not sure what kind of face you’re making but it has to be something between disgust and bewilderment because damn, he’s a real one.

“what?” he says between chuckles - as if he doesn’t see anything wrong with the picture and it makes your heart bloom with a sort of endearment while your core heats up with a sort of want.

throwing him a sly smile, you cock your head to the side, “get in the back.”

with a mixture of surprised and impressed blink, he doesn’t need to be told twice to unbuckle his seat and climb over to the back seat. long legs spread out to welcome you into his lap.

taglist: @gukksluv @illwritetomorrow

shout out to my biggest bestest friend in me-loving baddest b @koochiekoo !!! highkey without you, i probably would take longer to finish but you’ve been super supportive and i love you so this fic is for you neinya!!!

note. the first part (friend in me) wasn’t showing up on searches no matter how many times i posted it and my earliest readers would remember it being called ‘to my dear friend’ before i changed it to fim bc i wanted to see if it’ll show up on searches but it didn’t. idk if this one will but i dont have much hope bc the preview also didn’t show up on searches (weird) but i have lost the rest of the f’s i have and decided to post this with a mindset that it’ll reach the right people though probably be less than 50 ppl. but i hope those who came this far enjoyed the fic!

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts x you #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #fic: friend in me #fic: to my dear friend

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kindofinprogress · 3 years

Text

Part 2 to A little nerve(ous)

I originally planned for this to be three parts. But I'm not so sure anymore!

Read part one here

Harry sat at the dinner table with a heavy sigh. He could do nothing more tonight than watch a Weasley family dinner play out in front of his glazed over eyes. It had been a long day of meetings he had no business in- but everyone needed his input at the ministry these days. As if he wasn’t a drop out 17-year old. As if they hadn’t spent the better part of the last three years dragging him through the mud. Harry spent a lot of time letting his mind wander during these meetings. Much like he was now- committing the names of the Fallen Fifty to memory, wondering if there could have been a better way, if any of the deaths could have been avoided, how anyone could see him as a hero, what he was supposed to do next.

“Wanna go for a walk, mate?”

Ron’s deep voice shook Harry out of his trance-like state. The silence that followed was absolutely deafening. Where had everyone gone?

“Huh?”

“Erm… Dinner finished around 15 minutes ago. You’ve been a bit out of it for a while.”

Harry cleared his throat and made to get up with his dish (still full of food) in hand. “Right. Sorry. I should-”

Ron took the plate out of Harry’s hand and set it back on the table “You should come have a walk with your best mate.”

All Harry could do was nod his head and follow Ron. He felt simultaneously completely void of thought and full to the brim with it.

It was a while before Ron spoke again.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it? The breeze. I bet spending all those hours underground at the ministry aren’t doing you any good.”

“Right. Because we certainly haven’t had our fair share of nature and the outdoors over the last year.” Harry recoiled a bit at his own response. That was much too harsh with no reason. “Godric. Sorry, mate.”

“S’alright. It was funny.” Ron said, putting a large hand on Harry’s shoulder and shooting him a kind smile.

Harry felt a bit embarrassed at how nice it felt to have Ron’s hand on his shoulder. There was a time when physical affection was so foreign to him it’d made him uncomfortable. But being a plus one at the Weasley’s had meant having to go from deflecting touch to at least bearing it pretty fast. By fifth year he’d even welcomed Molly’s hugs, Bill and Mr. Weasley’s strong and lengthy handshakes, Ron’s hand on his shoulder, the twin’s ruffling of his hair, Ginny’s… A sigh escaped him at the thought of her. Ron must’ve known what was on his mind because he let her know Ginny was inside still, helping Hermione do some washing.

“But I’m sure she’d be up for a little after hours flying if you wanted me to get her? Or I could leave you two-” he started to suggest, with a raised eyebrow.

“Ron.”

“Oh as if time alone with my little sister isn’t exactly what you want.”

“I… No.”

Ron shot him a questioning look. “No?”

“Ugh. Not ‘no’. But… No.”

“Yeah, I’m not following mate.” Ron’s walking had stopped, he was leaning on a large boulder with his arms crossed. Harry noticed how far they’d walked from the Burrow. He wondered if they were still within the protective barriers. They should turn around. Had he even brought his wand? Was it too late for someone to be creeping around?

“Should we head back?”

Harry had only seen the expression which took over Ron’s face exactly three times before. Once, when Hermione revealed Krum had invited her to visit him over the summer, once when the pair of them had caught Ginny and Dean snogging in an abandoned corridor, and lastly when Ron had caught him kissing Ginny in her bedroom last summer. The look that said he wanted nothing more than to punch a bloke.

“What are you playing at?”

“I just think we should stick closer to the house-”

“About Ginny, you daft monkey!”

“It’s complicated, Ron.”

“No… it’s not. It’s really not, Harry. You pined after her at Hogwarts, you dumped her seconds after you finally got her- don’t interrupt me with your excuses. You pined after you dumped her, and, and… all that in the forest? Pouring over that bloody map day in and day out? The ‘If I come out the other end of this’ speech you gave me? What the hell, Harry?”

Harry’s lips formed into a thin line- keeping everything in he wanted to blurt out. About how much he missed her still. About how he couldn’t keep asking her to wait around for him. About how much better she deserved than a killer. He turned around and started walking faster than necessary toward the lit house. But there it was again seconds later- that huge hand on his bloody shoulder. Harry was tall but Ron had always had a bit on him. He should’ve known better than to think his friend couldn’t match his stride. Harry stopped and stared up at the sky. All that damned vastness. He kicked at the stump near them once, twice, and again and again and again until Ron had him by both shoulders and was steering him toward the pond- muttering something about going a round with a whomping willow.

Harry splashed a handful of water on his face and layed on the earth. Looking up once more at all the vastness up there. It didn’t take long for Ron to join him. Part of Harry thought he might care how silly they must look- two grown men laying side by side like that near a pond. He quickly waved this away though. There was a moment not long ago he and his mate had shared next to a much larger body of water, on a much colder and darker night that bonded them in a way probably not many people could understand. He’d always known Ron- but seeing a man's insecurities played out like Harry had witnessed- It allowed him to understand Ron better than ever.

“You don’t want to be with her anymore then? Think it all just got a bit much? You two seemed rather cozy before-”

“Before I got swept up into being a ministry troll.” He sighed again. “I miss her like you wouldn’t believe.”

“A little ball of light that sounded like Hermione floated into my heart and led me right back to her, remember? I think I know what you mean, mate.”

They laughed at that. Probably the first time Harry had laughed in days… or weeks.

“Yeah, alright. You might get it, then.”

Ron was quiet this time- not pressing him for more but knowing more would come.

“She deserves better.”

“I reckon you’re right. Ginny certainly deserve someone who’ll give her the time of day.”

“I haven’t been that cold.”

“Yeah, mate, you kind of have. This is the first night you’ve been home early enough for dinner in two weeks and you barely glanced at her. I only suggested getting her earlier because it’s been a while since I saw you two strolling around back here.”

Harry groaned and put his hands over his eyes, knocking his glasses backward onto his head. It had been a while. Too long. Godric.

“She does though, you know? Deserve someone better. I can’t give her… I don’t know. A normal life. Normal… happiness.”

“What the hell are you on about, mate?”

“Think about it. I can only travel by restrictive floo right now otherwise I get bombarded with cameras- remember all the gossip at Hogwarts? Imagine that but instead it’s all of Wizarding Britain. I’m as good as being treated like an auror nevermind I never trained or passed any N.E.W.T exams- It’s like you said, this is the first night I’ve been home for dinner in weeks, Ron. And I completely blew her off even though I miss her so much it feels like she’s as far as the moon sometimes.” Harry blushed and stole a glance at Ron, surprised a bit by his declaration.

Harry groaned.

“And it’s not just that, Ron.” A silence that beckoned more from his end met him in response. “How am I ever supposed to look her in the face and tell her the very same dark magic that allowed Tom Riddle to torture her for a year was inside me all along? How could she ever forgive me for Fred-” Harry felt a knot form at his throat. “How did I ever think I could soothe that pain away, knowing he was only in harm's way because of me?” Harry waited for Ron to say something. Anything. But nothing came and so his mind whirred with thoughts of Ginny and he sat there with nothing more to say. He really did miss her, his Ginny. No. Not his Ginny. Ugh.

“Hey.”

He looked up at Ron, who was sitting and staring down at him now.

“Remember fifth year, when Ginny talked to you about her being possessed and all? Really got through, didn’t it? I think… I think 11 year old Ginny could have really used that too. But there was no one around to give that to her. We all just kind of watched her seal all that away and couldn’t do anything about it because well, what did we know? I think… if anyone could understand the full story of the last year, the prophecy-doing things you didn’t want to do, the horcruxes, Kings Cross- everything. And take it in without judgement or.. Or fear or whatever you think they might, I think it’s Ginny.”

Harry wondered how true these words might be. He could only hope they were, even a little bit.

“So listen, you can sit around like a zombie and keep yourself away from… shit, from living your own life the way you want to for the first time ever or you can bloody get up and do something. Where’s that gryffindor bravery? Only let it out to defeat dark wizards? Not to talk to the girl you fancy? Bloody pathetic, mate.”

Harry and Ron allowed themselves to laugh full belly laughs again. They sat there staring at each other then back up at the stars again for a while after their laughter died off. Eventually, Harry got up first and after offering Ron a hand up, they walked back to the Burrow and Ron went up to bed while Harry poured himself a tea and sat out on the back porch by himself for a bit, enjoying the breeze.

#ron weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #hinny #post dh

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

On the Mend. Part 3

Harry Potter AU

Link to Part 2

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M- later chapters

Song at the beginning: “Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off” by Panic! At the Disco

_____

I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie, you had me

Girl, I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat? No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

You weren't sure how far you had been walking when you stopped. Stopping, you looked around to try and figure out just where you had gone to. You were at least a mile from home and at the moment that was okay. Upon returning home you would have to face Regulus. There was no way around it.

The sensible side of your brain told you that this was for the best if not for yourself then for Renee. She deserved to have Regulus in her life and whether you wanted to admit it or not so did you. You still loved him even though he hurt you more than you cared to admit.

He was trying to apologize and say that he was wrong...that has to count for something.

The voice in your heart was a lot different than the one in your brain that wanted Regulus’ balls in a jar. You kept muttering your daughter’s name and “I’m a better person” over and over. Maybe Regulus meant it when he said had he known that you were pregnant that he would have said no to his parents. It wasn’t like you could hop in a time machine and go find out.

The question that existed now was would you ever be able to trust him? Your sensible side said, “Give the poor boy a chance; he almost cried. Regulus Black doesn’t cry.”

“This is going to be messy.”

You muttered before turning and heading back in the direction of home. At least you had Remus and Sirius in your corner. They wouldn’t let anything horrible happen to you, Sirius especially. He was the one that wanted to go after his brother when you told him that you were pregnant to begin with and shake his brother until the boy came to his senses.

Walking back into the house, Remus looked up from the book that he was reading. His expression went from blissfully relaxed to worried brother as he stood up.

“Are you alright? We were worried about you.”

You nodded, taking off your coat.

“Sorry, I had to get some air.”

Remus nodded, pulling you into a hug.

“If he starts shit, I will politely rip his lungs out at the full moon. All that you have to do is ask.”

You leaned back and met Remus’ gentle eyes. The two of you instantly burst into fits of giggles.

“I’ll keep that in mind. We have an order meeting, right?”

Remus nodded before sitting back down and returning to his book. He was beginning to wonder why they were even called meetings anymore. The order had nearly been depleted. Tonight it was just going to be Dorcas, Marlene, Dumbledore, and (making a rare appearance) Minerva McGonagall.

“Everyone should be here soon.”

You took a breath before turning and going to the sitting room. Stopping in the doorway, you couldn’t help but smile seeing Regulus sitting on the floor with Renee. The little girl had torn out all of the pieces of her toy kitchen that Remus had bought her for her birthday and was handing Regulus random plastic dishes and food items. He had a small rare smile on his face as he neatly put everything in little stacks.

Renee’s attention had drifted over to you before eagerly holding her hands up and squealing “mama.” Regulus’ head snapped in your direction before quickly standing up.

“I’ll just take her so you two can talk.”

Sirius, who you hadn’t even noticed was in the room, said before picking Renee up and leaving the room. The last thing that he really wanted was for either Renee or himself to witness this conversation.

“Can we talk? Please?”

Regulus asked. He kept his tone smooth and gentle. Regulus knew that if he talked the least bit harshly, he would get nowhere.

You, meanwhile, started muttering Renee’s name over and over in your mind. This had to be for your daughter. You had to put the pain of the break up, the pain of reading Regulus’ and fruit salad lady’s wedding announcement in the Daily Prophet, and any other hurt that affected you on the back burner.

“Sure, come upstairs with me. I don’t want anyone listening.”

Regulus followed you up the stairs into what had to be your bedroom.

“Close the door.”

You said, softly before taking your wand out and putting a silencing charm on the room. Regulus waited until you turned back to him to speak.

“Y/n, what do I have to do? I’ve apologized. I was an ignorant teenager...a stupid git of a teenager. Better yet...here”

Regulus reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and produced a folded up sheet of paper. You frowned and took it from him.

“What’s this?”

“The proof that you need that I’m a free man.”

You unfolded the paper that was clearly his divorce decree from Ambrosia. Blinking a few times you folded the paper up and handed it back to him.

“Congratulations, I guess?”

Regulus didn’t expect much of a reaction to that so he decided to go with plan B.

“You were right. I was a coward for not standing up to them. That is going to change. I’ve already asked mother to meet us for lunch tomorrow. I want you to go with me because I’m telling her everything. If she wants to blast me off of the family tapestry then I am fine with it. You know my father is dead, right?”

You nodded, unsure of how to react to what Regulus said. The fact that he was willing to take the risk of being burnt off of the Black family tapestry said a lot! If he didn’t care, you doubted he would be willing to tell Walburga everything.

“Yeah, I heard about that. You do realize that this isn’t going to end well for you.”

Regulus shrugged as he stepped closer to you. His stormy eyes were locked on yours looking for any sign that you wanted him to stop.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He reached down and took your hand in his. You didn’t pull away this time. Instead, you stood enjoying the feeling of his skin on yours as you had earlier.

Regulus’ eyes rolled back up from your joined hands.

“All that matters is this...you, me, and our baby. You can trust me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Regulus tilted your face up to his before leaning down and kissing you softly.

“All that I am asking for is a chance...a second chance. This time there won’t be any hiding.”

Regulus was relieved when you didn’t kick him in the shins. You stood with your hand still wrapped around his.

“Reggie, I…”

Regulus smiled.

“Did I tell you that you are the only one that I let call me that? I’ve missed hearing it. What do I have to do?”

You were silent for a few moments.

“That was an honest apology. Believe it or not, I could always tell when you were lying. That wasn’t a lie. I never really told anyone this and I don’t think that I even wanted to admit it to myself...I knew that you didn’t want to marry her. I could see it in your eyes.”

Regulus nodded. Not wanting to marry Ambrosia was putting things lightly. His father almost had to drag him out of the house. Regulus had spent the whole morning sobbing like a baby after drinking the whole previous night away. Throughout the wedding, Ambrosia was lucky that Regulus didn’t throw up on her. He instead spent the reception throwing up in the bushes with Evan shaking his head like a disapproving mother bird.

“No, I didn’t want to. You should have seen the spoiled brat that I was the whole time. May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

You replied, softly. You were nervous about what was about to come out of his mouth. What if it was a question that you didn’t want to face? Would you be able to answer it? You weren’t sure.

Regulus frowned.

“Did you know that you were pregnant when we broke up?”

You motioned to the bed. The two of you should probably sit down for this conversation.

“No, I didn’t know then. I didn’t find out until a few weeks after. I didn’t tell anyone for a while either...like 5 months later…it was after James and Lily died.”

Regulus’ hand wrapped around yours.

“I wanted to come to you after I heard they were killed. Voldemort had me out of the country at that particular time. I was left out of the loop on a lot of things at that particular time. Between you and me, I thought that prophecy was a bunch of crap. Hell, everything at that particular time was a bunch of crap.”

“I’m relieved to hear that come out of your mouth. You have no idea how much I worried anytime you went on some mission. Regulus, I want to love you again but it's going to take some time.”

Regulus slid off of the bed to kneel in front of you. His hand reached up to cup your cheek.

“I’ll give you anything that you want. I’m not kidding about going to face my mother tomorrow. I want you to come with me to see it. It's going to be a shit show but it will be well worth it. Would it be obnoxious to ask for a kiss?”

Both of you smiled at that question. It was the question that totally set you off before. Now, it was different.

You still had your reservations about renewing the relationship but Regulus’ genuine demeanor was soothing.

“I think that would be alright.”

You said before leaning down and kissing Regulus softly. He didn’t move to deepen the kiss or make you feel like you had to do more other than a closed mouth kiss. That didn’t mean that Regulus didn’t want to wrap his arms around you to show the passion that he felt for you. That would take time and it didn’t matter how much Regulus didn’t want to wait...it was time to be patient. He had to be the man that you needed.

A knock on the door made Regulus and yourself pull apart quickly. You quickly took the silencing charm off of the room.

“Yes?”

You called out. Sirius’ voice came from the other side.

“The meeting is starting. I’m sorry to interrupt whatever is going on in there.”

Regulus gave you an annoyed expression before getting up and opening the door. Sirius stood with a worried expression on his face that quickly turned to relief.

“Oh thank Merlin. You both have your clothes on.”

Sirius was afraid that he was going to come upstairs and find Regulus and yourself snogging. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect it to happen eventually but it didn’t need to happen too quickly. The last thing that Sirius wanted was for you to go through another hell-like breakup. He didn’t mind picking up the pieces because that’s what best friends did for one another. Sirius didn’t want to see you or Regulus, for that matter, hurt.

“Just what did you think that we were doing?”

Regulus questioned. Sirius smirked.

“Well...put 2 and 2 together would you?”

You stood up quickly.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Sirius.”

Sirius frowned.

“So, you two aren’t getting back together.”

You fought the urge to chuckle at the expression of sadness on Sirius’ face. It was as if Sirius was some child wanting to make sure his parents were good after a fight.

“Yes, we are getting back together but we aren’t doing anything too quickly.”

Sirius looked relieved. This was probably the most mature and safe way to handle the situation. Granted, Sirius never did anything slow or safe.

“Cool. Slow is good.”

The moment that you walked into the dining room with Regulus behind you, Dorcas immediately looked panicked.

“Why is Regulus here? I think he came to the wrong meeting with the wrong bunch of people.”

Regulus rolled his eyes as Dumbledore came in.

“Ms. Meadowes, Regulus is on our side now.”

Dorcas didn’t look the least bit comfortable having a former death eater in the same room as her. She wrapped her arms around Renee, who was sitting on her lap playing with her necklace. Renee turned her attention to Regulus and yourself.

“Mama, dada!”

Dorcas looked down at the baby before her dark eyes rolled up to your face.

“No! I thought that she was Sirius’.”

Dorcas looked down at the baby on her lap before gawking back up at Regulus. How had she not seen it? Renee resembled her father too much for comfort. Renee had his eyes, the same dark curls, and that same haughty expression that both Regulus and Sirius wore so well.

Sirius, meanwhile, looked disturbed.

“What? I don’t think that I would be calling myself her uncle if I was her father? What is this some fucked up version of Hamlet?”

Regulus went over to Dorcas and took Renee from her with a scowl on his face.

“Now we know the speed of stupid.”

He commented. Dorcas was out of her chair with her wand out ready to hex the boy in front of her. Regulus smirked.

“You’re really going to hex me with my daughter in my arms? Do you really want to go there?”

You quickly wedged yourself between the two.

“Dorcas, no. Regulus, please.”

Dorcas sat back down as you followed Regulus back to the empty seats across the table.

“When did this happen? You two as a couple...I thought that you were married to that Parkinson girl?”

You sighed, the last thing that you really wanted to do was tell everyone about what had happened in your life.

“He was.”

“That didn’t mean that I wanted to be. We’re divorced now.”

Regulus clarified. Dorcas was still frowning.

“So you knock up Y/n...I’m confused.”

You knew that Dorcas was about to go into protective best-friend mode.

“Dorcas, do you remember that day that you caught him staring at me?”

Dorcas’ mouth dropped.

“So you two have been having some affair that long?”

“Dorcas, they split up because our mother forced the arranged marriage with Ambrosia. Y/n was pregnant then. We, as in Remus, Y/n, and myself decided to keep the truth to ourselves because well...it was a fucked up situation. Now, Regulus is in on the know and they are working on their problems. Did I sum it up?”

Sirius questioned. You nodded as Sirius went back to the shot of whiskey in front of him as Dorcas put a hand over her face.

“Oh my god, it all makes sense! This explains that horrible depression that you went through before you had Renee. How did I not see it?”

“We kept things secret because of his family.”

You supplied. Dorcas was quiet for a moment. This was the last thing that she ever expected to happen. She thought that when she told you to stay away from Regulus you would actually listen...not run off and have a baby with him.

“Well, what about now? I mean, isn’t your mother still alive?”

Regulus nodded.

“I’m telling her tomorrow and she will either have to accept it or not. It's simple.”

Dorcas sat looking between Regulus and yourself for a few moments.

“Nothing with your pureblood Voldemort supporting families is simple.”

Had Regulus not been holding his daughter, he would have hexed Dorcas. He was thankful that Renee was trying to go to sleep against his chest. If he had not been holding her, Dorcas Meadowes would be hurting.

“You’ve got to get control on your temper. Things with Y/n is tense enough as it is. If you go hexing her stupid friend, you might as well kiss having your woman goodbye.”

Regulus thought before swallowing his rage.

“Opinions are like assholes, Meadowes.”

Remus has sat quietly observing the whole situation. He decided it was time to change the topic before things went way out of hand.

“So Dorcas, I heard that you were seeing Anthony Harwood.”

Regulus’ eyes flickered up hearing Anthony’s name. That was the little punk in Hufflepuff that followed you around like some lovesick puppy. It was only after Regulus hexed him a few time in a dark hallway did Anthony get the picture to fuck off and leave the Slytherin’s lover alone.

Dorcas rolled her eyes.

“I am. He was supposed to come but he didn’t show up.”

Regulus smirked.

“Well, it is dark outside. Maybe he thinks he’s asleep and is lost somewhere?”

Dorcas’ eyes turned to Regulus.

“You’re still an asshole, I see.”

“And I thought that you were a lesbian?”

Dorcas jumped up.

“I am bisexual you little shit!”

Renee grinned.

“Shit!”

She squealed happily before clapping her little hands. Sirius almost snorted whiskey out of his nose while Regulus blinked down at his daughter. You quickly jumped up.

“Okay, that is enough! Renee knows enough bad words for this week. Reggie, we need to get her in bed.”

The next afternoon, you followed Regulus down a street crowded with muggles. Your hand was locked in his as he held Renee in his other arm.

“I’m surprised that your mother agreed to meet you at a muggle place.”

Regulus gave you a small grin.

“What mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She won’t be as inclined to throw such a tantrum with people all around her.”

The moment that the two of you stepped into the restaurant your eyes immediately met Walburga who was seated by none other than freaking Ambrosia Parkinson. Both women’s mouths dropped the moment that they saw you with Regulus and the baby in his arms.

Regulus, meanwhile, was muttering “fuck” under his breath. The last thing that he expected was for Ambrosia to be there. When he spoke to Walburga the day before, Regulus made it clear that he wanted to see his mother only.

“Regulus, what is going on?”

Walburga snapped. Regulus tightened his hold on both your hand and Renee.

“Mum, I’m sure that you remember Y/n Potter. She is the woman that I am in love with and this is our daughter, Renee.”

To be continued….

______

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counterspelling · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Rey, Finn, Rose, Poe, Chewie and the Falcon from the sequel trilogy get sent to the Legends timeline because they deserve better.

I think for me I'd actually rather keep the timelines separate? They absolutely did deserve SO MUCH BETTER, and time travel fix-it shenanigans can be so fun, but I love the EU as a completely separate thing and idk how you could incorporate them. I would rather just throw the sequels in the trash where they belong and keep the characters and just... rewrite everything else?? The only satisfying arc for that trilogy for me would be for Rey to be Luke's daughter since that is IMPLICITLY what TFA was showing us with her force visions of an island she'd never seen that Luke marooned himself on (after somehow failing young Rey and thinking she was dead, since that is the ONLY REASON Luke would ever abandon everyone like that, and even still I don't think he would cut himself off for years like that. We already saw that story!!! We saw Yoda and Obi-wan do it!!! Why did they just repeat the OT!!!) and with Rey calling Luke's lightsaber to her over Kyle Ron, they WANTED US TO THINK she was his daughter. And she should have been! The main SW movies are about the Skywalker family, and throwing away decades of that history to pull the rug out from the viewers and have her be a Palpatine in the name of shock value bc Rian Johnson is a racist piece of shit and JJ Abrams is so enamored of his own writing and thinks writing himself into mystery corners without presenting actual solutions is good storytelling.... that's dumb!

Disney originally letting 3 separate straight white dudes do the trilogy with no oversight or communication between them is dumb! George could pull out plot twists and shock the audience bc he was one man overseeing EVERYTHING and he never undercut the message of his own story. He was vocal about his movies being for kids, the point wasn't just to shock people, Vader being Luke's dad makes everything about the OT more complex and deepens every relationship, the same way Leia being Luke's sister does. It was about tying the characters together and underpinning their emotional journeys together, not pulling something COMPLETELY out of left field just so that the thing that everybody saw coming didn't happen (they resurrected Palpatine in the CRAWL and then never addressed it!!! I just!!! How is that something that actually got written and filmed and produced and nobody had a problem with it!!!). Disney doesn't care about anything but money, and they just need the brand for that, not a good story. I would rather bring Winter and Mara into Disney canon bc Leia deserves her sister and Luke deserves his wife but also I do not want to subject myself to suffering through whatever disney would do to them lol. Also, on top of everything else he's done, Abrams is still on my shitlist for putting out the casting call for Keri Russell's character to be named "Mara."

They set up Rey and Finn to be co-leads with parallel stories, they clearly set them up as love interests, they were two people who immediately recognized each other as someone to care for and trust, exactly the way Han and Luke and Leia all did when they first met, two people with incredibly fucked up childhoods who were never sure who they could trust or who would support them. But they knew from the first moment that THIS person would be someone they could count on, and had such an immediate bond together. And then they threw those characters away completely to woobify Kyle Ron and turn Finn from a lead into a side character without a plot or character arc for the next two movies. Rey and Finn in TFA are unrecognizable in the next two movies, everything about their personalities, motivations, and goals changes and has zero resemblance or flow from the first movie. And Kyle Ron himself is a joke, truly one of the worst SW characters I've ever encountered. I hate... so many sw characters lol, but he's just such a badly written and uncompelling character, and everything about him is so rooted in the racism that John Boyega the actor and Finn the character had to go through, it's just disgusting.

Anyway, if it was purely up to me, I would remove the sequels from canon and then do a 7 movie adaptation of the NJO and LOTF series. I want Jag and Jaina to be the main couple without decades of dumb love squares just bc Jaina is the only girl, I want Tahiri to be treated with the respect she deserves, and I want Tenel Ka to have more of a chance to bond with the other girls and in fact to make the relationships between all the women a priority. We'd get the first four movies covering the vong war, we'd see the twins and Anakin centerstage and having to fight the worst war the galaxy has ever seen as teenagers and how strong they were together, before they were even fully jedi knights. We'd get the bond between them and see them emerge as leaders in the war, and then we'd lose Anakin at the end of 3, see the toll that it took upon the whole family but especially Jaina and Jacen (Jaina! Who was always the protector of her siblings, from the time they were born! The oldest sibling, who feels responsible for their safety!! Losing her youngest brother!! And then coming into her title as Sword of the Jedi when she's knighted, and forever feeling the guilt that she couldn't stand in front of her brother and protect him!! When that was the literal prophecy spoken about her, that she would never rest bc she would forever stand in front of other to protect them!! Also?? To hear that about yourself at 17??? WOW!). And then seeing the last 3 cover LOTF and Jacen's descent, Jaina's realization of what he's become, how it's her duty to kill her twin, her heart, because she's the only one who can. That's the story I want.

#sw negativity #i miss my girl jaina so much ;_;#mostly i have just... entirely divorced myself from disney sw lmao #i have the high republic bc finally!!! they have returned jedi to me 10 years later!!!#but i just could not care less about anything they do in the same 60 year time period anymore #it's boring and they already fucked over everyone i care about so deeply i simply cannot be bothered lol #star wars

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oohlook-thevoid · 4 years

Text

Ranking Rating the Merlin ships

I’m bored and procrastinating doing more productive things plus I was already doing this in my head so I guess I’ll share and you can all tell me how wrong I am or whatever,,, jk please don't. Also to note these may not be all ships, they’re just ones I have seen on past perusals of ao3 or on here basically.

Merthur

7/10 - this is like the main ship of the fandom and I get it, y’know they almost died for each other several times and so on but like, canonically, it really is not the best ship. Like, we’ve got to admit these two did not have the healthiest relationship - Merlin was basically obsessed with saving Arthur because of the prophecy and did so at the expense of helping magic eventually and then Arthur was just kind of a dick sometimes because he’s emotionally repressed and all that. But I mean it does still have a lot going for it, mainly the mass of great fics that make it all a bit more even and healthier, so it gets a 7.

Arwen

7/10 - even though this is one of the only canon ships, I feel it’s a bit underappreciated in a way because of the merthur love out there. Anyway, arwen is an equally good ship and Arthur and Gwen were just really cute together; when I was watching s5 most of the scenes they were in (Edit: I’ve just remembered I specifically mean the scene when they’re de-mind-controlling Gwen at that lake cauldron thing or whatever, they were very cute there), I was just like they’re a really good couple, they work. I mean there are certainly downfalls which is largely the writing and treatment of Gwen in those later seasons but overall they really were a good couple who deserve better.

Merlance

9999999999/10 - PERFECTION. Like, Lancelot knew about Merlin’s magic and still cared about him greatly and this was the one relationship in which Merlin could be entirely honest and himself and Lancelot was just so so good about it. And also when Lancelot said “I look at you and wonder about myself, would I ever knowingly give my life for something.” and Merlin said “You have to have a reason. Something you care about. Something that’s more important than anything.” and then Lancelot sacrificed himself being the only one who knew Merlin was going to thus giving his life for Merlin. Just these were two amazing dudes who deserved better and by better I mean each other because they were in love your honour.

Merwaine

10/10 - I mean come on first of all “help a friend” “Arthur’s lucky to have us” “not Arthur” like, Merlin understand that this beautiful chaotic man loves you. Like it is undeniable that Gwaine is brought into this all because of the fact he cares about Merlin, like that’s what brings him into all this. In fact it’s so undeniable that even when I’m reading merthur fics there’s a magic reveal and Arthur’s all like “begone foul demon” waving his sword about all threatening like whilst Gwaine is there like “wow I don’t give a shit because it’s Merlin and I love him end of discussion”. And sometimes it’s even like Arthur attacks Merlin and Gwaine stops him which like,,,,,, it is very clear that we can all see Gwaine is a fucking perfect man for Merlin and someone just needs to tell the dipstick warlock this so they can date.

Perelyan

5/10 - tbh this could probably be higher but my awareness of Percival and Elyan is shamefully minimal. Like I’ve seen the show, they were there but I can’t say I remember that much. Still, from what I do recall, they seem to have a good friendship going on so y’know if they ended up in a relationship I wouldn’t be opposed. Could be nice.

Perelyaine

6/10 - basically same as above but Gwaine’s here too now so I have to give an extra point.

Perwaine

6/10 - I mean the scene in Diamond of the Day where Morgana’s torturing Gwaine and he screams and then Percival just fucking hulks out from where he’s tied up and breaks free to get to Gwaine like,,,,, get you a man who can do that.

Mergana

0/10 - Morgana is a lesbian. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Merdred

-2/10 - I just simply do not vibe with this ship in the slightest. I mean firstly there’s the matter of Merlin just hating Mordred (wrongfully so imo but still). And then just, Merlin was like basically adult and Mordred was small child the first time they met so like I just can’t say I vibe with it. Mordred is the child of the group and he shouldn’t be dating anyone, that’s it basically.

Freylin

6/10 - I can almost guarantee they’d score higher if someone had been allowed to live longer but alas the writer’s ain’t shit. They are the peak of deserved better though.

Morgwen

9/10 - ah recall the earlier seasons when these two where just in love and everything was incredible. “Something to cheer you up, I know you’re not sleeping well” “You cheer me up.” That’s love bitch. Anyway these two could have had it all as shown by every early season interaction the had but no once again the writers had to fuck it up. So anyway thanks to them a point has had to be deducted off of perfection because it isn’t cool to torture and brainwash Gwen in the dark tower Morgana (also because of that stupid queen jealousy shit where Morgana was like Gwen can’t be on the throne like can it girl we know you you used to want to share that throne with her).

Gwencelot

5/10 - I think what they had was sweet but I also think that, at the end of the day, they both at other people out there who they work better with than with each other. Still, I love them both and if they wanted to be happy together then I’m rooting for them.

Mergwen

3/10 - but only if we’re talking romantically. Platonically their friendship is like ∞/10. They deserved more screen-time together in later seasons but regardless earlier seasons tell us that their friendship is unmatched and I can live with that.

Merlin x Gwen x Arthur

8/10 - I don’t know the actual ship name for this but I know I’ve see it somewhere. Anyway, fuck love triangles, polyamory saves lives. (this sentiment can also go for any other love triangle or even love square on this show that you can think of)

Leon x anyone

-7/10 - yes, this isn’t a real specific ship. yes, I’m aware of that fact. But I had to say, given I’ve seen various ships with Leon, that overall no. Leon is long-suffering and tired of everyone’s bullshit. If Leon is going to date someone, it will be someone nice and sensible who he deserves and who doesn’t add to the chaos going on around him.

On that note, I’m done, you’re welcome.

#merthur #arwen #merlance #merwaine #perelyan #perelyaine #perwaine #mergana #merdred #freylin #morgwen #gwencelot #mergwen #merlin bbc

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orange-axolotl · 3 years

Text

A sequel to this fic! Once again a huge thank you to @tack-tick for letting me use their idea.

tw: hurt/some comfort, graphic descriptions of a dead body, a role reversal au, reference to suicide, non -graphic body mutilation (wings being burnt away). Ghostza.

ao3 series link

ao3 fic link

It’s the middle of the night by the time the Withers are finally killed and the end of L’manberg seems to have been ensured enough that the violence is stopped.

Wilbur stands on shaking legs and sets Phil’s enchanted bow down next to him. The inside of his wrists are bleeding and his shoulders are numb from the strain. He hates to say that he’d grown soft inside the walls of their childhood home but he must’ve.

He really must have.

In dazed confusion he watches as everyone scatters to the winds, the lights from torches and lanterns moving in various directions. He watches as the bright pink of Techno’s hair disappear with the barely visible red and green shirts of Tommy and Tubbo following behind him. The glint of Eret’s crown guides two people to his castle. The members of the Dream SMP proudly march back towards their homes.

The utter fucking bastards.

Wilbur makes his way down into the crater. It takes forever with only a hastily constructed torch and his limbs threatening to give out on him at any second.

In the dark, he can’t see the base of the crater so it’s easy to pretend like Phil must’ve respawned. He’s respawned and is talking to the others at the moment. He’ll be back to let Wilbur take him and the boys back home.

Home where they’ll never have to deal with this fucking bullshit again.

Wilbur’s feet hit the smooth stone of the bottom. He smells iron and the unmistakable stench of death before he sees the worn out sandal attached to a limp foot. His torch slips from his hand with a spluttered, cut-off whimper that turns into mist in the cold fall air.

He’d known. He’d known it from the moment Phil had fallen, he’d known the whole goddamn climb down.

It’s just so very different to know and to know.

Wilbur picks up the sputtering torch with a trembling hand and takes a few unsteady steps forward until Phil is fully in view. The netherite sword is still sticking out of Phil’s chest.

Rage fills him. The man who never dies, taken by his own fucking sword. With a sickening squelch Wilbur removes it to throw it as hard as he can in the other direction. It clatters to the ground several feet away and skids away until it’s no longer in view.

Wilbur glances over at Phil’s half-shadowed face. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, maybe laughter at the sudden action, but it’s still slack and so pale. His lifeless blue eyes barely catch the torchlight.

Phil is dead.

Wilbur holds the torch up higher so he can see better.

There’s dried blood everywhere. It’s a black halo around Phil’s head and it spreads out like some kind of poison from his back until it almost looks like wings.

Wilbur kneels beside him without a second thought, his hands hovering above Phil before falling limply back to his side.

The time to help has long since passed.

His brain has gone completely silent in the face of the grief and the agony. Misery and exhaustion has him of half a mind to curl himself around Phil like a child and never move again.

The other half whispers a question that keeps him still.

“How will I tell Fundy?”

The six-year old that Wilbur left behind in Sclatt’s care would be absolutely devastated. Wilbur regularly regaled him with stories of his grandfather that Fundy loved even though his little man doesn’t have any memories of meeting him.

Four years is such a long time. Longer than Wilbur realized.

“Oh,” a soft and unfamiliar voice whispers behind him. Wilbur has a dagger pointed and ready to be thrown in a moment’s notice.

It’s simply too dark to make anything out but that the other person has their hands up around their heads. No weapons to be seen.

“Who are you?”

“I’m BadBoyHalo,” The name tickles something vaguely familiar in the back of Wilbur’s mind but he’s simply too tired to even try to chase it. “I’m - I saw the light down here. I didn’t - I thought that this would be Phil’s first life.”

Wilbur blinks sluggishly at them, puts away his dagger with a quiet sigh.

“Are you Wilbur?” BadBoyHalo asks.

Wilbur nods. “Are you the one who tells my brother not to swear?”

“That’s me.”

“Fuck.”

“Language!”

Huh. Wilbur has always thought that Tommy was exaggerating in his earliest letters home. Turns out that there is a demon out there who hates swearing. He’ll have to apologize. He turns back to look at Phil.

The next words that BadBoyHalo says are hesitant and soft with understanding. “I’m also the server undertaker.”

As nicely said as the words are, they still take Wilbur breath away. They leave Wilbur choking on tears as he grinds his palms into his eyes.

A funeral.

A funeral for Phil.

It’s utterly inconceivable, totally incomprehensible.

Necessary.

Wilbur is the only person who can decide what to do at the moment. He has no ideas where his brothers have fucked off too. Niki doesn’t have the understanding necessary to give his family the burials they had promised to each other as they’d swam away from the melting ruins of an Empire.

“I need -” Wilbur takes a few deep breaths. “Do you know where I can find some journals, a boat, and some white sheets?”

It turns out that the unblown-up docks of L’manberg have ships. Ships with achingly familiar designs and even more familiar insignias.

Scott has apparently requested them on a drunken whim.

Wilbur can’t help but wonder if they had provided him any amount of comfort. If they’d eased the howling wind and cracking ice that resides inside all of the Empire’s children. He wonders because it certainly isn’t doing shit for him.

He picks out two that he’ll have… somebody drag to shore. Long enough to fit them but not big enough to last past the fire.

Then he messages Niki.

WilburSoot: Where are you?

Nihachu: At Eret’s Castle. You won’t be able to miss it.

Wilbur grits his teeth. He does know exactly where Eret’s castle is.

When he walks back through there’s a white tent set up that Wilbur doesn’t dare go near. He’s using all of his strength to get this done. He won’t be able to if he has to see Phil again.

He makes it up the steps and walks through.

Voices are talking quietly and he wanders towards them aimlessly.

“The entire country is gone,” Niki is saying. She sounds like she’s been crying. “I just don’t understand why he would do that.”

Wilbur thought his heart couldn’t crack any further but he couldn't have been proven more wrong.

“We’ll ask him,” a far deeper voice comforts her. “When he gets back, we’ll ask him.”

Eret. The rage and the scorn that should well up inside him absolutely refuses to show its cowardly face.

“It was never meant to be,” his father had repeated like it was some kind of divine prophecy.

This castle is so vast that Wilbur’s steps echo down the corridors. When his hand connects to the wall it comes back covered with dust. There are spider webs spun into the dark corners. It could be more impressive during the day or maybe it’s just Wilbur’s melancholy and half-delirious mind but all he can think is that this place must be such a pain to fill up by oneself.

“Hello?” Eret calls out, “Who's there?”

Wilbur pauses. “Niki?” he calls out.

“Wilbur!” Between one blink and the next Niki emerges from an open doorway and flings herself into his arms. “Thank god, that you’re alright-”

Her eyes catch his face, her relieved smile fading. “What’s wrong? Wil?”

Wilbur attempts a smile, fails miserably. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Yes, of course,” Eret says, “Please take a seat.”

Wilbur nods at them as Niki helps him towards a chair that he collapses into. He covers his face with his palms, struggles to pull himself together.

“Here,” Eret says, holding out a familiar looking potion. When Wilbur just blinks at it, they retreat slightly. “It’s a strength potion? It might help with the whole-”

“Me situation?” Wilbur asks.

He laughs a little, nodding. He doesn’t really look like the evil betrayer that Wilbur has built up in his head. Standing there with an equally hesitant and awkward expression he kind of looks like Fundy does when he’s trying to show Wilbur his newest little redstone project that he’s not sure of.

Wilbur takes the potion and gulps it in one singular motion, the familiar warmth of a strength potion spreading from his chest outwards.

“What did you need, Wil?” Niki asks. Her hands are stained with flour.

Wilbur suddenly realizes that there are various kinds of baked treats all over the table. Bread, cakes, muffins, and pies all over.

He raises an eyebrow.

Niki looks embarrassed, cheeks turning red. “I’ve been stress baking! Yesterday was just so awful. There was so much going on and I couldn’t go to sleep. Would you like one?

Wilbur has to fight back tears, although he isn’t successful judging by the way that Niki and Eret are looking at him. He wipes at his dry mouth with the back of his hand.

“That’s fine, Niki.” he manages. “I - Phil.”

He chokes on the words. He can’t imagine them ever getting any easier.

“Phil’s - Phil’s dead.”

The room goes utterly silent before Eret whispers a shocked, “What?”

Niki’s hug is unexpected but it’s soft and comforting. She smells like pumpkin and cinnamon and vanilla. She’s crying uncontrollably into his hair.

Wilbur shatters in her arms. He can’t help himself as he soaks her shoulder in his tears. He keens like some kind of wounded animal and her arms only tighten when he tries to pull away.

It’s selfish the way that Wilbur thinks about Phil. The things that he’ll miss most about Phil. His dad will never be there to give him advice in the early morning or in letters. Phil’s hug hadn’t been the answer to all of life’s hurts in over a decade but they’d still held some kind of magic. Fundy will grow up with only the stories that Wilbur knows instead of hearing them from the man himself.

The three of them had always competed for Phil’s attention, for his laughter, for his praise.

Phil had never once told them that he loved them all equally. Instead he’d name his most loved traits over and over again until they’d grown into them.

Wilbur can’t catch his breath.

He tugs Niki closer and just tries to get his breathing under control. He can’t get anything done like this. He has to get some kind of plan together so he doesn’t just leave Bad hanging.

It takes a few tries but finally Wilbur has himself pulled together. Niki - after a little while longer -moves away. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy as she tries to pull herself together.

Wilbur gently kisses her knuckles. “Hello,” he greets.

“Hi,” she says, sniffing and wiping at her eyes with her flour covered sleeve. “What - What happened?”

“Eret,” Wilbur says, instead. Eret lifts his face up from his hand. His sunglasses cover his eyes but Wilbur isn’t stupid. The devastation is evident, the resignation of being blamed is also there. “Dude, why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“I - I didn’t know where I should be?” Eret answers, voice even deeper than it had been. He chokes on his next words, “I - What happened?”

“He pressed the button.”

Eret makes a noise like she might be about to be sick. Her hands clasped over her mouth.

Wilbur nods in agreement. “He pressed the button and it - it triggered the TNT. Then he fell.”

“I saw that,” Eret says, their voice unsteady and faint. Wilbur wonders if he should’ve refused the strength potion so that they could have it. “Why didn’t he respawn?”

“Yeah,” Niki pipes in. She pulls Eret closer, links her arm through her elbow. “I thought that he was only on his first life? He’s never died before.”

There are so many ways that Wilbur could answer this. So many lies and a truth that he’s always kept to himself. A secret that Phil let slip in the darkest nights.

A half-truth then.

“I don’t know if there’s a reason,” Wilbur mutters, “It might just be the way that Phil was.”

That obviously doesn’t satisfy them but they hold their peace.

“What can I do?” Eret asks.

Wilbur sighs. “Do you have any journals to spare?”

There are so many customs of the Empire that have been lost to their family.

There are songs that Wilbur can only remember snippets of. There are stories that Techno read from an old, waterlogged book that he had to make the endings up for. There are dances that Tommy will never dance on centuries old ice under the night skies bright lights.

So many things have been missed. There was only one thing that Phil stressed to them.

Phil had talked to them about the customs of deaths.

The dead were never buried in the Empire. The snow was simply too deep and dense to reach the equally hard surface. If they were to be put into the snow they would be trapped there in that freezing chill for forever.

Instead, the dead are placed onto boats. Boats that would help them find their way to the afterlife with the help of the Sky Gods.

Journals are then passed out.

The traditions of the Empire understand howling winds that snatch away words into the endless tundra. It also understands that sometimes there are simply no words to be said, only wishes that will never be granted, only memories that need to be recounted.

So the living are encouraged to write a letter. A simple but truthful letter about the departed.

There are no rules to what can be written. Anything goes but most follow a pattern. What the living would miss about the dead.

The journals are tucked into the boat which is then sent out to the ocean.

Once the boat is almost out of sight, it’s set on fire.

The letters can’t be tampered with that way, no extra letters added by those who wish ill. This way the ashes of the letters and the ashes of the dead mix together and then reform in the afterlife to be judged together.

The gods would carefully read the letters and then send the soul where they deserved to go.

Simple.

“Don’t make it a big fuss,” Phil had insisted. “Don’t make it a big fuss but I - I wouldn’t want to end up in an afterlife I wasn’t suited for.”

“Imagine you in the desert, Phil!” Tommy had chirped, nimbly avoiding the affectionate slap. “You’d have lots of fun.”

“Sunburn is far worse than frostbite,” Phil had shuddered.

The memory of their little log cabin nestled in between snow-capped mountains and spruce trees that nearly reached the cloud is almost enough to bring him to tears. He’s never been so homesick in his goddamn life.

So he stops thinking about it and instead takes the journals that Eret hands him with a shaking smile. “I’ll let you know when the funeral is.”

“Please do,” Niki says, giving him another hug. “Take care, Wilbur. Please.”

“Of course,” Wilbur says.

Niki looks as uncertain of that as Wilbur feels.

The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon when he makes his way back to the outskirts of the crater.

The white tent’s opening flaps gently in the wind like it’s inviting Wilbur towards it.

Wilbur grits his teeth. He doesn't want to go in and he doesn’t want to be the one planning funerals.

There is no one else who can.

He ducks into the tent and immediately falters.

Phil’s body has been carefully cleaned and thoughtfully covered in the white sheet that Wilbur asked for.

He hardly recognizes him in the soft glow of lantern light.

His face is completely fine, of course. The fall didn’t damage his face or Wilbur would’ve noticed immediately.

It’s just that he looks almost nothing like the man Wilbur remembers.

The deep black circles and bags under his closed eyes are unfamiliar and cold when Wilbur gathers the strength to bring a shaking hand to his father’s face. The crow’s feet are deep and set in sorrow. Phil’s blond hair is patchy, thin, and white at the temples. The frown lines surrounding his mouth are completely foreign.

All the same details that the panic of the button room covered up. The small details that Wilbur hasn’t been there to see.

Wilbur kneels down next to the stone slab. He clasps Phil’s hand in both of his, bringing it up to his forehead so he can rest his throbbing head on Phil’s knuckles. Bad has obviously gone to great lengths to get Phil presentable and clean but the smell of gunpowder still lingers.

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should’ve been here. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Bad places a gentle hand on his shoulder and Wilbur lets his mantra fall silent. So they just sit there in silence while Wilbur breathes solid, even breaths. He can’t manage any more tears so he just quietly rests with the yearning chasm in his chest.

After a while he says, “Have you found Scott?”

“We think that his body must’ve been lost in the explosion,” Bad says, and he sounds oh so guilty about it.

Wilbur wonders how on earth Scott’s soul will find its way to their afterlife without a boat to help him get there.

“Nothing to be done for it.” Wilbur sighs. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

They fall back into a long silence until the sounds of people wandering towards the crater become clear.

Then a few moments later it becomes obvious who it is.

Tommy’s barking laughter hits him first.

Wilbur gently sets Phil’s hand onto the slab.

He thinks that he must’ve been the only one Phil ever told about being a purely one-life individual. He wonders if Phil had ever thought that Wilbur would be put into the unavoidable position of having to explain it.

He imagines that if he’d known then he would’ve at least told Techno.

Techno’s deadpan voice - still too distant to understand the words but enough to catch the intent of a joke - sweeps through the tent flap. It’s quickly followed by Tommy and Tubbo’s hysterical laughter.

Then again maybe not.

“What’s this?” Tubbo’s voice calls out. “There’s a tent?”

“I’ll get there faster, bitch!” Tommy calls back.

The sound of running sends Wilbur into a panic as he stumbles over himself to stand up. He has to catch them before they can run in without warning. He’s almost to the tent flap when it opens and then closes with a gasp.

“What? What is it Tubbo?” Tommy calls out, the tent flap opens again.

Tommy takes in the scene in front of him. He’s had a growth spurt in the six months since Wilbur’s seen him but his posture’s gotten so much worse. There are dark circles under his eyes as well although they’re nowhere near as bad as Phil’s.

A beat of silence where Tommy just seems to take in the room.

Then he yells something incomprehensible and stumbles towards Phil’s body. His hands shake above the cloth like he’s afraid to touch it. “What the fuck happened here?” he demands.

He turns to Wilbur with a pleading look, “What the fuck?” he asks, again his voice breaking. He angrily swipes tears away from his eyes with his palm.

God, he’s only sixteen.

Wilbur opens his arms and Tommy throws himself into the hug. Wilbur makes sure to tuck him into his shoulder so if he doesn’t want his tears seen then they won’t be. Tommy mutters questions under his breath until he’s not saying anything but is just sobbing.

Wilbur had been wrong about having no tears left. He has to blink them away so he can focus on his twin who just walked in.

“Wilbur.” Techno breathes, standing at the tent opening with the white cloth of the tent clenched in his palm. He can’t take his eyes off Phil. “I don’t understand. This was - This was his first life? He said that it was his first life.”

“His only life.” The words come - unbidden and unwanted - to Wilbur before he can stop them. He winces.

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice but Techno turns to stare at him. “What?” he demands.

“I’ll tell you later,” Wilbur promises.

They have a long staring contest until finally Techno nods.

BadBoyHalo shifts in the corner. A move that has Techno’s eyes darting towards him and then narrowing.

“Bad,” he greets.

“Technoblade,” BadBoyHalo says, “I’ve been helping Wilbur with Philza’s funeral.”

A flash of guilt crosses Techno’s face. “Alright.”

“I need to know when we’ll be holding the funeral so I can tell all of those who are invited,” Bad says.

“Noon.” Wilbur and Techno answer immediately. Wilbur combs a hand through Tommy’s wild hair, the sobbing has calmed down to sniffles and hiccuping breaths.

“Are there any specific-,” Bad pauses as if he just realized that what he’s about to ask isn’t quite the question that he wants to be asking. “ - guests that you don’t want there?”

“Everybody who wants to be there is welcome,” Wilbur answers before either of his brothers can set up some kind of restriction.

Tommy bristles, pulls away slightly, “Dream isn’t-”

“Everybody is welcome,” Wilbur repeats, louder.

Bad nods, pauses at the opening. “Tubbo?” he asks.

The three of them pause as the sound of muffled crying answers him. Bad gently leads in Tubbo with red-rimmed eyes and a hand pressed against his mouth.

Wilbur’s never met Tubbo before, for all that they’re family. Phil had written to him in a daze about the child they’d found on the side of the road. Phil and Techno apparently dedicated themselves to finding the boy's parents before finally declaring it useless and taking him with them.

Tommy pulls away from Wilbur and throws himself at Tubbo who buries his face into Tommy’s shoulder and starts weeping. The room goes silent besides Wilbur quietly humming a lullaby while Tommy rubs Tubbo back and Techno seems to be deeply in thought. He paces the room like a caged animal.

Tubbo finally recovers enough that he and Tommy pull away with a muttered apology.

“Hey,” Wilbur says. “Don’t apologize. This is a truly terrible situation.”

He puts just enough emphasis on it that it makes Tubbo huff a laugh before looking horrified at himself.

“Hey, Wilbur?” Tommy says before the silence can turn awkward.

“Hm?” Wilbur answers, already dreading the next statement.

“Dream and Scott shouldn’t be allowed at Phil’s funeral.”

“Scott’s dead, Tommy.” Wilbur sighs. The other three freeze before a small cheer erupts among them. Wilbur continues, “And it’s tradition. Everyone gets to have their say.”

That seems to take the wind right out Tommy’s sails and he deflates into a dejected teenager. “This isn’t the Empire,” he mutters half-heartedly, “We don’t have to follow everything.”

“It’s what Phil would’ve wanted.” Wilbur answers.

That’s the end of the argument and the conversation.

They stand in that tiny white tent exhausted and lost beyond belief. Wilbur watches the Sky and tries to convince himself that he isn’t looking for black wings.

After a while Tommy and Tubbo start to get relestless. The two of them glancing between Techno who hasn’t moved from Phil’s side and Wilbur who’s been staring out into the distance for the past few hours now that some of the responsibility has shifted shoulders.

“Hey Tommy, Tubbo?” Wilbur calls. “Can you do me a favor?”

Their whispered conversation dies down.

“Yeah?” Tommy calls back. “What kind of favor?”

“Niki’s at Eret’s castle -” He waits for Tommy to make some kind of comment about how awkward that must be for him. It unsettles something deep when Tommy doesn’t say a word,

distrubed Wilbur continues, “Niki’s at Eret’s castle and she’s been stress baking all night. Do you think that you and Tubbo could get some together to hand out at the - the docks when it’s time?”

“You got it, Big Dubs,” Tommy says, the two of them darting out of the tent like lighting bolts.

Tommy turns back at the last second and hugs him. Wilbur combs a hand through his hair, bewildered at the fact that Tommy would be seen hugging him.

“I’m glad that you’re here, big man.” Tommy whispers, so quietly that Wilbur almost doesn’t hear it.

“I’m here as long as I can be, Tommy.” Wilbur promises.

Tommy breaks away with a small smile before racing back to where Tubbo had stopped in surprise. The two of them walk away with their heads pulled in close together as they talk.

Wilbur closes the tent flap with a sigh. There’s a hard conversation waiting for him and Technoblade. No reason to try and postpone it or make it harder for the two of them.

“So,” Wilbur says, spinning his ring on his finger. “Which question do you want to ask me first?”

“His only life.”

It’s not a question.

Wilbur answers him anyway, “Phil never told me why he only had one life.” he admits, “I think that he probably lost two of them during the Fall of the Empire. He only told me because I happened to be in the right place at the right time to hear about it.”

It’s probably nowhere near the answer that Techno wants, not really the answer that he deserves either. Wilbur just doesn’t have any better answer to give him.

“I - That’s fine!” Techno says, surprising Wilbur into turning around to look at him. “I don’t care that he only had one life. Why didn’t he tell me?”

Wilbur does his best not to take it as an insult. He’s failing miserably at it. “I could’ve protected him so much better!” Techno continues, “There were so many plans that could’ve gone so much better!”

“Phil wouldn’t have wanted to be thought of as a liability,” Wilbur points out, “He wouldn’t have taken that.”

Techno takes a moment to ingest that information. They both know that Phil would’ve patiently accepted it for a while with minimal protests as he went around Techno’s back to change the plans.

That’s just Phil.

“You’re right,” Techno admits. “So there’s no chance of a respawn?”

Techno and Wilbur had never been the type of twins who were close. There was no reason for it on either of their sides, just the understanding that they had their own interests and tastes that very rarely intersected.

It’s almost comforting in that moment to know that at least in this moment the same question has been racing through the both of them.

“No chance of a respawn.” Wilbur confirms.

“I saw - I saw him run himself through.” Techno says, once again he’s talking more to himself. “I saw him throw himself into the crater. That whole time I thought that he’d respawn.”

Wilbur envies him that hope. That jealousy for the night Techno had thought that Phil would be back at any time while Wilbur carried him out of a crater and got things together. Then he thinks about the way that a nation that he’s never seen has turned to ash under Techno’s feet and the jealousy shrivels up in his chest.

“It’s almost noon,” Bad calls making both of them jump. “If you need any help moving Phil?”

Wilbur looks at Techno. Techno looks at him.

“We’ve got it.” Techno calls back.

“Thank you.” Wilbur adds.

“Of course.”

Sometime during Wilbur’s visit with Eret and Niki Bad had fashioned a kind of wooden slab with handles so that they could transport Phil’s body without too much hassle. Wilbur needs to thank Eret again for the strength potion because otherwise there would simply be no way that he could manage to do this.

They work in silence as they carefully shroud Phil in the thick white sheet that Bad had gotten for them. Techno’s face freezing when he sees the burnt remains of Phill’s wings.

“He was protecting me from the blast,” Wilbur admits, carefully wrapping the cloth around them. “I don’t know if - if the wings would’ve made it if I hadn’t been there.”

‘I don’t know if Phil would’ve made it if I wasn’t there.’

Techno blinks at him, his words awkward but obviously carefully chosen, “I think that he decided what he was going to do. Nobody could’ve changed his decision.”

“Maybe.” Wilbur says, “Maybe.”

They finish in exhausted silence. There’s nothing left to be discussed between the two of them now.

There’s a universe where Wilbur had been fast enough. There was a universe where Phil had never even pressed the button. There had to be a universe where right now Phil was alive.

Wilbur wonders how many end portals and nether portals he’d have to jump through to find it.

“You ready?” Techno’s voice is a low rumble.

“Ready as I can be.”

They slide Phil’s body onto the slab and start the short journey towards the boat that will guide Phil to the afterlife.

Everybody is already at the sand next to the docks before they get there. Members of L’manberg and the Dream SMP hovering around each other. Niki is handing out food that everybody is half - heartedly nibbling on.

Tubbo and Tommy come racing forward when they see them, only faltering a little when they see the ceremonial shroud.

“Is there anything that we can do?” Tubbo asks.

Wilbur almost tells them not to worry about it before he reconsiders. “Can you grab the journals out of my pack? There should be about twenty or so.”

Tubbo eagerly digs through it and passes ten back to Tommy and then takes ten for himself.

“I’d be a big help if you handed those out.” Wilbur admits, “Tommy, do you remember what they’re for?”

Tommy swallows, “I remember.”

“Are you up for explaining?”

“Yeah. I can - Yeah.”

Wilbur smiles at them, warmth kindling in his chest. God, they have good kids here. Wilbur couldn’t be prouder. He hopes that even a fraction of that warmth and pride shows when he says, “Thank you, guys. Seriously.”

Considering the way that both of them flush and then turn around to give out the journals he thinks that maybe at least a little had come across.

Setting Phil into the boat is easy. Setting the charcoal in beside him is not.

His father will be in flames in less than twenty minutes.

The way that Techno’s hands shake lets him know that he understands the gravity just as well. The sound of waves lapping against the shore and nearby dolphins are slowly joined by the sound of quill tips scratching out thoughts onto paper.

Tommy quietly sets two journals and two enchanted quills in the sand beside them just as they finish.

Wilbur writes as many good things as he can. He writes about long, lonely nights made bearable only by his father’s warm presence. He writes about giggling snowball fights, and the feeling of flying with his toes skimming the top of water.

He writes about the certainty of never being allowed to fall.

He wants to write page after page about his sorrow and his guilt but he doesn’t want that to be the last that Phil ever reads from him. So instead he signs -

‘I’ll miss you until we meet again.

Forever Your Loyal Son

Wilbur Soot’

He gently sets the book into the boat and covers it with charcoal before stepping aside so that the others can do so when they’re ready.

Nikki feds him a bit of pumpkin pie when she sees that his hands are dirty and caked with charcoal dust.

Clouds begin to cover the sun when Techno settles his letter beside everybody else.

Tommy and Tubbo volunteer to push the boat out and something inside Wilbur breaks even more as they grit their teeth and shove the boat into the water. Wilbur tucks them both under his arms and curls over them.

He has to bury his face into Tommy’s hair and just breathe when Techno notches the flaming arrow. He swallows down a sob when the telltale sound of something catching fire barely reaches them.

“It’s over, big man,” Tommy says after a minute, “You can’t see it anymore.”

Wilbur nods, squeezes them once to reassure himself that they won’t disappear the second that he lets go.

They don’t hang around the docks much longer after that. Everybody is wary of each other now that the common goal has been fulfilled. They disappear back into the same packs that they had the night before but now Wilbur follows the bright pink of Techno’s hair to wherever the hell they’re going.

“Secret base,” Techno says to Wilbur’s questioning stare.

“Everybody knows where it is now, Technoblade,” Tubbo says.

“It was once a secret base,” Techno amends. “Now it’s just a base.”

“It’s under a lake!” Tubbo says.

It turns out that Technoblade does have a once - hidden base that’s under a lake and it looks a lot better than it sounds.

“Took two years to build,” Techno says when Wilbur looks around in awe.

“You haven’t even seen the hidden hidden bit,” Tubbo says, “That's really really cool.”

“Maybe later,” Wilbur says, “First though I’m gonna make some lunch.”

The fish and chips that he makes isn’t the best and everybody mostly just picks at it but it gives them the excuse that they need to all get settled into the small dining room.

Wilbur and Techno pick up books that they half-heartedly read through even though their concreation is shot to all hell. Tommy and Tubbo play tic - tac - toe only finishing a few games before they start to yawn.

“I think that I'm going to go take a nap,” Wilbur says, putting his book down without bothing to put a bookmark. “If anybody wants to join me.”

“You’re getting old,” Tommy complains, “Who needs a nap this early.”

The impact of his statement doesn’t hit that hard when he yawns at the end.

“Maybe a nap wouldn’t be all that bad,” Tommy huffs a laugh.

That’s how thirty minutes later Wilbur is pinned under two asleep teenage boys and idly staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to go to sleep himself and as the cloak sounds off hour after hour he’s proven correct.

It doesn’t bother him like it would’ve once. Instead he just settles in for the long haul and lets his mind gently wander. Until it hits midnight and his body all of sudden itches for activity. The last hurray of the long - acting strength potion that Eret had given him making him restless.

He tries to tough it but after he nearly wakes up Tubbo twice in three minutes he throws in the towel and painstakingly extracts himself.

Then he goes to search for Techno wandering through the confusing base until he finds him in a comfortable little living room.

Techno has always built for practicality more than any kind of sentimentally or comfort reasons. That’s why Wilbur knows that the little living room with it’s comfortable furniture and potted plants had been a concession for Phil.

He can just barely make out the edges of Techno from the angle that he’s at and for a moment he’s about to walk in. It’s always been better for Wilbur to have somebody to sit up with for the night if the other person could bear it.

Before he can he watches as Techno takes off his crown and sets it onto the side table next to him. Then with a quiet huff Techno puts a very familiar green and white striped bowler hat onto his head.

Wilbur doesn’t want to disturb that so instead he heads up to the surface.

It’s the middle of the night again so he just idly starts walking until he finds a path. He doesn’t have any armor on but the diamond dagger has taken out several mobs before they could take him out. So he’s not terribly worried.

“Hello.” A voice says.

Wilbur whirls around and finds the man, the myth, the enemy.

“Good afternoon, Dream.” he greets.

“It’s a bit past afternoon, Wilbur,” Dream says, affably. His mask really is disturbing this close up. “You shouldn’t be out here without any armor on. Who knows what could get you.”

Wilbur smiles, “I wasn’t all that worried about it, but now that you’re here I’m sure that you’ll protect me isn’t that right?”

“Of course,” Dream laughs. “Wouldn’t want somebody to get killed on their first day on the server would I?”

“It’d be bad for the image of the whole place.”

Dream hums in amused agreement. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Wilbur admits, “Just wanted to walk to try and see if that might help. Is it the same for you?”

“Yeah. I - Yeah.”

Not as skilled in lying as he thinks he is. Dream’s voice will give him away if Wilbur listens carefully enough.

“I could show you a nice place for us to sit and chat if you’d like?” Dream offers.

“Oh no, thank you.” Wilbur waves the offer away, as he starts to walk again. Dream has to walk with him if he doesn’t want to get left behind. “Tommy’s offered to show me around tomorrow and I’d hate to ruin anything.”

Dream’s voice is strained when he answers, “You’re walking one of the main paths of the server right now. I think that you’ll find your way towards most of the big spots by yourself.”

“Huh, fancy that.” Wilbur hums, walking along.

The mask doesn’t hide the sound of teeth gritting together very well. A shame for Dream because Wilbur finds that he quite likes the sound.

“I’m gonna cut to the chase, Wilbur.” Dream says, he’d almost certainly be imitating to somebody who isn’t running on unbridled grief and pure maniac energy. “You’re the only person whose managed to break the protections that Callagan’s put on the server.”

Wilbur keeps walking. Dream goes silent but he’s barking up the wrong fucking tree if he thinks that’s gonna make Wilbur talk. He lived with Technoblade for sixteen years, he can handle the silent treatment with both ease and grace.

“Do you know how that could’ve happened?” Dream breaks after a few minutes. He doesn’t sound pleased about it.

“I might have a few ideas,” Wilbur bullshits, leaning down to pick a dandelion. He presents it to Dream with a peaceful smile. “I doubt those ideas would be of much interest to a man such as yourself though Dream.”

He’d wanted so desperately to see his family. The stars had engulfed him and he has no idea how his feet had met stone in this server. No. He doesn’t think that Dream would find his answer satisfying at all but if he wanted to insist then Wilbur wouldn’t stop him.

“I think that it’d be of great interest to me actually,” Dream takes the flower from him and settles it into his pack.

Wilbur thinks that if Dream was a bird then he’d be a Raven or a Vulture. Circling around the hurt and waiting for them to die. Wilbur’s read the horror stories that had been included in Dad and Techno’s letters of a bloody war.

He’ll do the same to a limping, shambling state of a nation.

“Would you be in a trade of information, Dream?” Wilbur offers.

Dream hums, pleased. “I could be. What would this trade include?”

“I tell you how I got on your server. You tell me how my father came to the opinion that L’manberg needed to be destroyed.”

There’s a weighted moment where Dream seems to be deliberating if the information was worth it.

Wilbur stares at the stars and marvels at how unfamiliar they are. The only familiar objects in the sky are the waxing moon and the northern star.

Dream obviously must decide that he wants to know enough because he takes a deep breath. “Phil wanted L’manberg back and all that was left was Manburg. He decided that it wasn’t worth that.”

Wilbur hums, “Manburg, huh? Scott took the L.”

Dream laughs and agrees. This whole server must be so amusing to him. Little puppets to play with and chess pieces to move.

“Did Phil find the TnT by himself?” Wilbur asks, making sure to keep his voice light and curious. “I mean there must have been several stacks.”

“I gave him the first stacks,” Dream says, “After that I just gave him the gunpowder. He found the sand.”

“Oh! That explains how he was able to get that many so quickly, I suppose.” Wilbur says, “Taking out a nation on the name along though. Seems a bit strange.”

“More the principle of the thing I think,” Dream shrugs, “The land that he’d built just kind of disappeared when Scott took over and changed everything.”

“Did he tell you this?” Wilbur asks, innocently.

“We had a few talks,” Dream admits, “We didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things but that was something that we came to agree about.”

Dream pauses in their steps as if he’d suddenly realized what he’d revealed. Wilbur keeps his pace even and steady as he walks away. It’s always nice when a suspicion is confirmed that’s for sure.

“So you were the one reasonable for the Manburg destruction.” Wilbur says when Dream catches up. “Well that and the Withers that you set off.”

“Phil made his choice.” Dream says, pauses. “Maybe if you’d been here then you would understand.”

“Is that so?” Wilbur asks, he wishes that he’d grabbed his guitar. Something to do with his hands beside keeping them determinedly loose by his side. “It’s almost like I wasn’t whitelisted and wasn’t allowed on the server.”

“Nobody asked me to whitelist you.”

“How embarrassing for them.”

Dream grits his teeth again, “I kept my end of the bargain. Tell me how you got into the server.”

That - at least - Wilbur can agree with. He’d answered the question and had even given far more than he’d intended too when he’d decided to trade.

It’s a shame really that WIlbur won’t be able to give him the answer that he wants.

Such is life.

“I just wanted to be here,” Wilbur says, “Then I was.”

The crickets chirp quietly around them. Wilbur silently counts down in his head.

3...2...1

“Is that it?” Dream says, disbelieving.

Him and Techno really are so alike in the strangest of ways. Maybe that’s why Phil had such an obvious soft spot for Dream. Maybe that’s why Dream was able to convince him that a nation once gone can never be recovered. Maybe that’s why Wilbur is standing here and playing games instead of ripping his throat out and burning his lands to ashes like he wants too.

“It didn’t matter in the long run did it?” Wilbur says, offering a small olive branch of truth. “A little too late for me to have changed anything.”

“I suppose so. Do you plan on staying?”

“Well, somebody has to help Techno and Tommy rebuild L’manberg.” Wilbur says, “I’ll stay as long as they need me.”

“The nation of L’manberg is gone, Wilbur.” Dream says. “Phil blew it up.”

That’s cute.

“If Phil truly wanted L’manberg gone then it would be gone, Dream.” Wilbur assures him. “After all the bedrock is still there.”

Wilbur holds a hand for a handshake that’s mostly an excuse to try to crush Dream’s fingers with the last holding effects from the potion. Dream doesn’t take it instead his mask tilting until Wilbur has to drop his hand.

“Have a good night, Dream.” It’s counter-initiative to turn his back on the enemy but Wilbur can’t afford to show fear here. Not if he wants to get what he needs.

He’s several feet away before Dream says, “You do the same, Wilbur. Make sure to enjoy it while you can.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes. What a dramatic fuck.

He makes it back to the lake and down into Technoblade’s not - so - secret base just in time for the true exhaustion to slam into him.

It leaves him stumbling and shaking as he moves through the base to check on his boys. Tommy and Tubbo are still curled around each other like affectionate cats, Techno still sitting in the little living room although he’s fallen asleep with Phil’s hat still on his head.

Tomorrow morning he’ll have to send a letter to Sclatt and Fundy to break the news that he’ll be gone longer than intended. It’ll probably take him a long - ass time to write.

A problem for tomorrow though. For now he’ll have to settle into the knowledge that everybody is as safe as they can be for now.

He swings back towards Tommy and Tubbo to rejoin the pile when he hears somebody moving through chests. His dagger in his hand immediately and he creeps towards the noise silently until he meets a nondescript door.

The door swings open with a quiet squeak and Wilbur’s breath catches in his throat.

Standing there is a grey figure. A grey figure that he recognizes shifting through chests.

The breath finally leaves him in a pained wheeze that could be mistaken for a “Phil?”

The figure turns around with a frown on his face. His sandals don’t quite touch the ground. His eyes aren’t a soft baby blue but instead a raging grey.

His words are a half - question, half - demand that echo around the room.

“Where are my sons?”

#text #let there be a garden and a man in it au #wilbur soot #philza #fanfiction #once again i don't know how to tag

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twilightofthe · 4 years

Text

Ohhhhh Nonny do I have an IDEA for this one, thank you so much. I’m going off of your Separatists idea, thanks!

(You also sent me that second Obikin prompt which I shall also answer boy howdy!)

(OTP prompts list found here)

Obianidala 4 - Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

In this universe, Dooku tries to catch more flies with honey than vinegar at first. When Padmé Amidala starts stirring up a fuss in the Senate about things that could interfere with Sidious’s plans, Dooku sees an opportunity arise. That formidable personality Amidala uses to command attention to her cause, something like that could be useful to him, to have on his side. His Master will certainly disagree, but Dooku knows that his Master cannot be his Master forever. At some point, Sidious will have to be dealt with; why not have the girl who took down the last Chancellor as an ally?

Count Dooku arranges a meeting with Senator Amidala. He tells her the truth about Sheev Palpatine. He shows her the datapad painstakingly compiled with over a decade of evidence of the Chancellor’s high treason. The entire sordid affair that was invasion of Naboo and Palpatine’s role in it is displayed in full. The truth is undeniable.

Padmé has never been so furious in her life. If what is in these documents is true, everything up to and including her own election as Queen, what she prided herself on for achieving through her own success and talent and by the grace of a democratic society, all of it, was his doing. He chose her. He groomed her. Eight fucking years of her life as a civil servant unknowingly dancing on his strings like a puppet, enacting his will, causing her planet and the galaxy irreparable damage. Gods, he chose her because she was weak-minded enough to hand him the Chancellorship on a silver platter.

Dooku tells her of Palpatine’s plan, of the war he’s been cultivating— too late in the proceedings now for Padmé to do anything to stop it, gods, he’s thought of everything, and his ultimate goal of complete galactic domination. He believes Dooku is his servant, on his side, but, Dooku says, he does not plan to follow him forever. He wants to take Palpatine down, and he thinks Padmé could help him.

She learned all of her political prowess from the man who betrayed her. She knows he has left nothing to chance and that there is no way civil law and political action could knock him off his throne, no matter what evidence she gathers. She doesn’t trust Dooku, thinks he’s just as bad.

But Padmé was a tool in Palpatine’s rise. Anything bad that happens because of him is now blood on her hands by proxy.

Padmé Amidala commits herself to an alliance with Count Dooku.

A slightly less detailed version of the evidence shown to Queen Jamillia is enough to commit Naboo as well.

They can’t tell Palpatine yet, don’t want to alert him to their plan, so for a year they plan in private. Dooku is certain his Master is unaware. During that year, Padmé is told of what Darth Sidious really is, how the Sith factor into everything. She really didn’t sign up for this. This is Jedi-level danger that she has no experience in handling and gods, the Jedi don’t even know about any of this, and while Sidious is awful and Padmé Will bring that bastard down, she doesn’t like or trust Dooku in the slightest. Does not want his ideas of how the galaxy should be run.

But what should she do?

The answer comes when Dooku tells her that he is being ordered by his Master to make attempts on her life due to her rabble rousing in the Senate. He won’t actually kill her, he promises, and she knows he needs her enough that she believes him.

And then the sack of utter shit kills Cordé accompanied by a completely unrepentant message to her saying that it was necessary, and Padmé despises him too and maybe that’s why she’s so eager to lightly push him into the fire when Palpatine pulls her into a meeting with the Jedi about it. Maybe the Jedi can help her, do something, maybe—

The Jedi is the same one who was sent to protect her a decade ago, the one Dooku’s mentioned by name from time to time when he’s humored her questions on the Sith and Jedi, his former grand-apprentice Padmé swears he might still be fond of.

And that apprentice’s current apprentice, and damn, Little Ani has certainly grown up...

Obi Wan is truly brilliant, Padmé didn’t appreciate that enough the first time they met. She’d appreciate it more now, if not for the light suspicion she starts picking up from him near the moment the investigation into her attackers starts. She supposes it could just be dislike of how his apprentice is blatantly, adorably enamored with her— which, doesn’t quite bother Padmé like it should, and no, she is not going down that road right now, nope —and it’s easy enough to tell Obi Wan cares very deeply for Anakin, but she suspects it’s more, that he’s caught on that there’s something she might not be telling them.

Having his intense focus on her though? Not entirely bad. His eyes staring into hers and his smooth voice as he asks her questions? Padmé can accept that. She can accept Anakin tripping over himself, being genuine and kind and so eager to help her. Even if she doesn’t want to tell herself why.

After the second assassin attempt— bugs, Dooku, really? —she can tell Obi Wan definitely knows something is up and says so to Dooku, who had promised her he’d handle it.

Her and Anakin are sent off to Naboo and she knows that bothers Obi Wan— though again, is that more his suspicions about her or his worry over Anakin —and she dearly hopes Dooku doesn’t kill him

During the time on Naboo, she learns much more about Anakin Skywalker, his humor, his brightness, his complication, his anger. He’s mad at the government too, and he feels pressure and upset at who he answers to. He’s ridiculously gone on his own Master even if he doesn’t know it, and Padmé has seen Obi Wan with her own eyes so she understands that completely. He’s beautiful and she’s unable to look away from him, especially not when he’s looking right back at her, kisses her, and no, this is a problem, a Major problem because the crux of the entire issue is that he is far, far too close to Palpatine.

Padmé has spent enough time reflecting back on just how exactly Palpatine groomed her, she recognizes it now in Anakin. He, wine flushed over dinner, tells her of the supposed prophecy he doesn’t quite believe in, how he is very powerful in the Force. She remembers all Dooku told her of the Sith, and while she’s sure he didn’t tell her close to all of it, she knows far more than enough to know that Anakin Skywalker is in grave danger

She sees even more of it when Tatooine and his mother come into play

She needs to pull away from this.

The updates Dooku’s sending on Obi Wan, how he’s being lured, her concern, no, none of this is good.

These are good men, bright men, people who just want to help, and she can’t have them around her because they’ll mess up the purpose she’s gambled her entire life for

So when Anakin gets a distress call from Obi Wan on Geonosis, Padmé grits her jaw, shoves down her feelings, and leads Anakin straight into Dooku’s trap.

The look of utter heartbreak and betrayal on his face once they arrive and are captured, when the droids let Padmé go and she walks away from him, the pain in his voice as he says her name, only her name, nothing else, it breaks her.

But this is it, Obi Wan discovered the clones and the game is put in motion, and Padmé can no longer hide in the shadows, has to sit and watch as the two Jedi are put in the arena to die, looks at Dooku who’s watching them with a troubled expression— she knows he made Obi Wan an offer and was turned down, knows he too sees something in Obi Wan like he did in her, and Padmé has an idea because she sensed a likeness in Obi Wan that resides in herself, that he wouldn’t listen to a shady figure like Dooku, but if she could make him see her view, tell him what was controlling them— controlling Anakin...

Anakin, she thinks, would come too. For his Master, if anything, but she knew they had something and if she hadn’t managed to completely kill it by betraying him.

She tells Dooku she might be able to convince the Jedi one more time to see things their way, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously but keeps the other newly-Separatist leaders from going after her when she tosses two blasters into the arena for the unarmed Jedi.

Obi Wan’s glare at her is pure acid and no, that one will not be easy, she very well might fail, and something in her both winces at the disdain but also ignites at the challenge, he is a challenge and she is good at challenges, but she catches Anakin’s eyes and sees confusion, remnants of that awful pain that makes her faint with guilt, and hope, hope in those eyes as he handles the blaster with the ease of a lightsaber— Obi Wan’s even better at it, Padmé notes with amusement, remembering him expressing distaste for them —she feels her heart jump. Maybe she hasn’t destroyed what she and Anakin had, maybe she hasn’t lost him, maybe there’s a chance to explain—

The Jedi show up and they bring the clones, and now it’s a full out battle, the other leaders are fleeing, but Padmé can’t go, not yet, though she is shameless enough to duck behind Jango Fett and let him handle things when she sees Mace Windu headed in her direction with a look like death on his face, which, fair, very fair, Padmé does kind of deserve it, she did lie to everyone

She’s trying to follow Obi Wan and Anakin, catches a swoopbike and gets a small cluster of droids to follow her when she sees them headed on carrier ships.

This time, when one ship is struck, Obi Wan and Anakin are in different transports, so it is Obi Wan who is knocked out of it and tumbles into a sand dune, and Anakin on his way to get Dooku without even noticing his Master fell.

Padmé is ready to use her droid squad to capture him again so she can explain, but now clones are headed his way too, and her droids and the clones engage in a firefight across the sands, so it is Padmé alone who goes across the sand to offer him a hand up

Her getting flipped onto her back and a lightsaber at her chest reminds her that right, he’s a bit peeved with her at the moment

Wait, she tells him, raising her hands complacently. Listen to her, she says, Anakin is in danger.

His hair is unkempt and there’s dirt on his face and his stare seems more intense than ever. His voice is icy as he replies, and who’s fault is that?

She winces. He is mad that she hurt Anakin on top of everything else, which is also fair, she’s mad at herself too. Not from her, she explains, from the Sith Lord, the one Dooku told you about, did he tell you their name?

His eyes narrow, says Dooku said the Sith controls the Senate

Padmé tells him she’s met the Sith, Dooku is right, and that the Sith not only controls the Senate, they control Anakin, have had their eye on him for a very long time

And there’s that flash of protective fire in his eyes, she has his attention, though he’s trying to act like she doesn’t. She likes his attention, is glad he cares for Anakin as much as she does. He asks her, tone dangerous, what the hell she’s talking about.

Padmé takes a breath. You’re in danger of losing him to the Dark Side.

He reels back ever so slightly, snarls, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ask him what we did on Tatooine, she counters, watches as he takes that entirely the wrong way, the flush of cheeks, the second once-over of her, and she can’t help but be amused.

No, she stresses though, because they don’t have the time, not like that. Ask him what he did. He did something awful and if you don’t help him with that, it will get worse and he will deliver himself right into the Sith’s hands

She can see him paling. He knows she’s not lying. What did he do? Who is this Sith?

She shakes her head, tells him that he will not believe her, and that Anakin must tell him himself, and he must still be there for him. You are what’s keeping him where he is. Don’t drive him away. You can’t lose him.

His eyes narrow, he wants to argue with her and the lightsaber is still at her chest and he’s staring at her just as intensely and her heart is tight, but he’s getting a report on his commlink, and she hears something about Anakin about to engage Dooku, and he swears sharply and is pulling out the blaster she gave him and she doesn’t have time to move before he shoots her with it—

And he stunned her, thank the gods, she wakes up handcuffed in a transport ship with a few clones still milling around, she sees the entrance to the cave system Dooku was using off at a distance, she knows exactly where he would be and knows in her heart that Obi Wan and Anakin are fighting him.

The clones, bless them, are still a little new, and her cuffs are in the front and aren’t exactly chained to anything, and she’s in white just like them so it doesn’t take much to pull her wrap cowl up over her head, wait until one isn’t looking, and take off out of the ship at a run, somehow avoiding getting shot until she’s deep in the cave and has time to pull a pick out of her boot and undo the cuffs with her mouth. She can hear fighting in the distance and she may be unarmed, but she feels she was finally breaking through to Obi Wan and she needs something she can control, not Dooku, not Sidious, her, and she bursts out—

And there’s Dooku, fighting what looks like Master Yoda, and there are both of her men, collapsed on the floor, and obviously there is history between Dooku and his old master so neither of them even pay her any mind as she darts across the ground to where Obi Wan is laying slightly over Anakin— who, gods, is missing an entire arm, Dooku you bastard —and is surprisingly, still awake.

She meets Anakin’s bleary, pain-filled eyes, runs a hand soothingly over his forehead and croons softly at him, melts at how quickly he leans in to her touch despite what she’s done, what side she’s on. It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay, rest.

Did you mean it? he asks her, and her heart shatters. Any of it, did you mean-?

I didn’t want to lie, she tells him, completely honest. You weren’t part of the plan, you never were, hurting you wasn’t—

He makes a confused, sad little noise as she leans closer and oh, she can’t help it, she leans down and she kisses him and he presses into it eagerly, she can taste blood in his mouth, before slumping back to the floor, asleep.

What are you doing? She turns to see Obi Wan struggling to wake, glare back on his face, and oh, these two need to have a serious conversation, but that’s not the now. She wipes Anakin’s blood off her lip.

She tells him she is gaining an ally, and when he flares up, adds that she does truly care for him, and wants him safe, and the only way she can do that is if she takes out the Sith who is after him

Why side with Dooku then, Obi Wan challenges, and she smiles, tells him that Dooku too is a threat, and in this position she can try to bring down the both of them—

With help, she emphasizes. I don’t know the Force, there are things they don’t tell me and I am far from strong enough. If you were to help me...

Obi Wan snaps that he is loyal to the Republic, and Padmé counters, is he to Anakin? Padmé catches the break in his façade for but a second as he glances at his broken apprentice still curled up beside him, and she knows she isn’t wrong.

She dares to reach out, brush a loose strand of shiny auburn hair out of his face while he’s incapacitated, tells him, she is willing to help them. They should consider helping her. He stays still while she brushes his hair, watching her hand. Maybe she hasn’t misjudged him either.

Obi Wan is once more cut off by louder noises and the sound of clones approaching, and Padmé sees Dooku getting ready to flee, so she pats both men on the head once more, tells Obi Wan, commands him, keep him safe. We will meet again.

And she’s off, dodging Yoda who’s running back for the Jedi, catching a swoopbike of her own and tearing off after Dooku to escape the planet.

Naboo has a declaration of secession to make, and a war is starting, and for the first time, Padmé feels like she has options.

#like ok yea they're still enemies by the end of this but c'mon y'all know where this is going i tried to leave it open ended #anon tbh this is a GOLDEN idea for a full on Clone Wars through ROTS au thanks so much for this #asks #anon #morai's fic #ot3 to save the galaxy #queen of my heart #our only ho #one (1) hot mess #obianidala

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 132: The Lost Prophecy

The circular office was strewn with bits of broken odds and ends like glittering tears embedded in the carpet, Fawkes was watching them all steadily from the ashes and made a silly little squeaking noise from his baby beak, and the portraits were calling and yelling at them in surprise when reality finally settled back.

Regulus shook his head slowly like he was still trying to get water out of his ears rather than that noise. He couldn't believe it had come from Sirius of all people. It was the most humanizing moment he'd ever seen in his life from his big brother, no longer the confident adult akin to dad. Just a scared teenager who had no idea how to deal with all of this like him.

He still didn't particularly like Potter, he seemed as arrogant as Evans always said, but at least acknowledged it as a good thing he'd been replaced. He certainly hadn't known what to do to help his brother. He'd thought Sirius was helping himself by keeping his emotions at a distance, and he'd obviously been wrong about that.

Sitting up slowly and having to dig a bit of something from out of his fingers from the wreck of this office, he took in the rest of this place with even more unease. If someone had broken in to steal something of worth in the Headmaster's absence, they hadn't done a good job of it as the Sword of Gryffindor was still visible in its case next to the Hat, and the Pensieve was still in its cupboard, as Longbottom proved when he cracked it open and bathed them all in blue light. Clearly valuables hadn't been the goal then, but why just upend all of the headmaster's trinkets? It certainly hadn't been them to do it, nobody had landed close enough to be the source.

The girls opened a door and came out of Dumbledore's adjoining room. A grand bed with plum sheets looked rumpled from one of their landing, Evans was rubbing her head from whatever she'd hit in there.

"Can you imagine how much knowledge must be in that thing," Peter surprised him by saying right beside him, hand outstretched. He was looking from the Pensieve and back with a teasing smile, but Regulus had no desire to stick his head in that. He took the offer reluctantly, surprised he stayed on his feet for as shaky as he felt. "This whole room even, wonder if he's working on another use for dragon's blood somewhere."

Regulus couldn't think of anything to say to that, biting down hard on his cheek as he tried to figure out what to do now. He did want to talk to Sirius, but the image of his big brother in his head had been shattered as much as these items, what was he supposed to say?

"He'll be alright, honestly," Peter told him gently. "Prongs will keep him in order, he just needed to, you know, be serious for a moment," he smirked at his own joke.

Regulus gave a surprised smile, and Sirius full-blown laughed. It wasn't a small office after all.

"Who else would I be Wormy?" He shot back, still slouching comfortably against the door like he hadn't tried to leave, Potter beside him rolling his eyes and audibly grumbling at Peter encouraging that stupidity.

Lupin was failing to hide a smile at the exchange as he grabbed the book from Dumbledore's desk. "The Lost Prophecy," he read with such surprise he actually dropped the book again, making a crunch as it smashed something into even more pieces.

The room stayed frozen for several long moments before Lupin shook himself and grabbed the book back quickly with an uneasy look at Potter, who had frozen up as if another death had been announced all over again. Sirius moved instantly, rubbing at his arm and muttering something for their ears alone. He relaxed, just a touch, and jerked his head away from the book, glaring out the window with very forced obvious disinterest.

"What, no bets on how Harry magically managed to come across this thing again?" Sirius offered weakly, but when his best mate didn't react, Sirius just gave Lupin a weary look of preparation. "Go on then Moony, let's get it over with. I'm still more worried about Harry than that stupid thing anyways."

Lupin didn't seem to agree, but he took a breath and started.

Harry was in pain. The kind of pain nobody would ever ask for, the loss of his only connection to his parents he'd ever known, or ever would again apparently. Regulus didn't know why Lupin was reading this, as if to spotlight how he once again was absent in Harry's life when needed. He kept going though, as the explanation came readily that it was Harry who had destroyed all this stuff in a rage to Dumbledore. Lupin just kept going though, his tone apologetic and full of sorrow as he kept watching his two mates, but there was something in there Regulus didn't understand, he just didn't know the guy well enough.

Then he looked at Peter and saw how he was studying Lupin and alternately eyeing the surrounding office, and thought he may be able to guess. Dumbledore had let a werewolf into this school when many a headmaster wouldn't dare, and Lupin had been big on defending the Headmaster back when all this had started. That had waned out a bit with each passing book, now he may in fact be doing this as an act of contrition.

The Boy Who Lived wasn't getting much comfort from the old man either, the explanation now coming in droves about his own hand in this horrible scheme of Occlumency and secrets put in him the desire to walk out of this school and never return, it was a wonder Sirius wasn't following in his godson's footsteps and destroying everything in sight.

Potter was the one crying now though, his arm tight around Sirius who wouldn't dare move away as his best mate seemed to have all the energy drained out of him to never return for every dirty crime listed. That it was Kreacher's doing, and the wise leader of the Order told Sirius only had himself to blame for it.

Regulus wanted to be sick at the idea. He wanted to scream like Sirius had and hope that made him feel better but knew it wouldn't. If he could plug up his ears and forget this one thing he knew he would in a heartbeat, that it was his beloved house-elf to be the death of his brother. Sirius looked infuriated beyond belief, it was hard to believe he'd ever hide any emotion again as he bellowed at the top of his lungs for Kreacher to be here right now, but no such summons was acknowledged for the first time in his life.

"Sirius, that's not helping," Regulus pleaded. "You can't just, he didn't mean-"

"Don't you dare Regulus!" Sirius snapped. He didn't take one step away from Potter as he turned all that fury on him now. "He meant to do exactly what happened! Injuring Buckbeak, trying to get Harry killed because of me! He's a worthless piece of shit just like your parents always wanted!"

Regulus winced at every blow, especially the 'your.' Did he already consider himself so unlike him? "Just listen, please," he didn't have an attic to hide away from his brother shouting. If he stopped arguing and pretended he didn't care like Sirius had then maybe he might do something worse than just scream. He'd always learned from his brother's mistakes, and he didn't want to pretend this wasn't horrible to him. To his complete surprise, Sirius really looked at him for a moment, then Peter, and closed his mouth.

The expression was still terrifying, no one could glower like a Black, but Regulus deliriously whispered, "he doesn't know better Sirius! You hate him, I know that, but he's got good in him, just like everybody! Haven't you wondered why he wasn't at home, why the house-elves aren't here at Hogwarts! You can't just want him dead because he's like our parents anymore than-"

He stopped as a soul deep cold whispered in his ear maybe Sirius had changed his mind and didn't care if he died anymore.

"I'm not asking you to like him," he finished in a miserable whisper. "Just, don't, hate him without giving him a chance to try."

Sirius slowly dropped the glare and kept watching him. His eyes flickered around the destroyed office and to his three friends then back to him and Regulus counted silently in his head all the different ways Sirius could kill him in this place just to be rid of his commentary.

His brother slowly eased the tension out of him though, and went back to leaning against his best mate without taking his eyes off of him. His voice was rough, but he sounded like he was actually trying to joke, "am I allowed to hate anyone in this future without that being thrown in my face?"

"Voldemort," Potter said at once with his own glare still held upon the world beyond.

"Bellatrix," Longbottom and Alice spoke at once, a word beyond redemption needed for her.

"Umbridge," Peter and Lupin spoke together with looks of distaste.

"Those Dursleys," Evans finished quietly but calmly.

"I accept that," Sirius finally forced a grin. He didn't really look like he meant it, but the fact that he stopped at all to even hear Regulus out meant the world to him right now, he wasn't going to keep pushing. Kreacher could be better if he just had some other influence, he just knew it! Not everything with their name on it had to end in ruins, surely.

Lupin finally kept going and he watched Evans pace in stark contrast, clearly furious her son was trying to futilely blame all this on Severus when Dumbledore offered explanation for where he'd been, but nobody needed to tell her how flimsy it felt. That Snape had really spent the whole night just wandering around the Forbidden Forest, and hadn't come across the centaurs and Grawp himself to figure all this out, he was more accomplished than that and surely should have been able to join the Order rather than conveniently being left out of the whole instance and not forced to pick a side. It seemed cruel nobody around here was getting the answers they so desperately wanted while Dumbledore explained Harry's life in painful detail to him.

The Prophecy that had set Voldemort after the Potters was issued by one now very familiar Divination teacher to them all.

"It would be her!" Sirius said with such ferocity the woman should have been ducking for cover no matter when she was now. "Bloody her that ruined my life the first time, now we're at round two!"

"I know Padfoot," James agreed patiently, "we'll lock her in a closet for the rest of her life when this is over so she can't be making any more of them, but please-" his voice broke at the end, and Sirius needed no further prompting to keep his mouth shut, a feat only James Potter had ever accomplished. Sirius knew he'd go mad without help if he had to wait any longer to hear this.

James felt like his ears were still ringing long after Remus had stopped reading that prophecy. This one was somehow even more vague than the one that had apparently been Sirius's doom, the only factor that related it to Harry was his birthday, but nothing at all for him to work with, fix some way out of this except possibly being a little choosy when they had their firstborn if that even worked. For all he knew when the prophecy was spoken again it would just change to that month. If he'd had any hope left clinging to his and Lily's son it was gone now, he couldn't condemn a child to this future that had his name in that Hall of Prophecy with no foreseeable way out of it for him.

There was nothing else to do. He couldn't not defy Voldemort, he couldn't stop any of that.

Sirius didn't have to imagine what Harry looked like sitting in this office, his future in ruins, because he was seeing it live. He'd never seen James look so defeated, not about any problem in the world. It had been him to come up with the animagus plan, his brilliant idea to keep Remus and Peter around when Sirius hadn't even originally wanted anything to do with them. His persistent optimism Evans would say yes any day only rivaled his absolute assurances there was more laughter to be had around the next corner if they just followed him.

He would not just sit here and let the fight drain out of James.

"Hey Prongs, I've got a secret," Sirius said at the top of his lungs. "We figured out Voldemort's weapon before him!"

James tried to smile for him, but it didn't feel real, Dumbledore had known this in its entirety this whole time and it hadn't helped Harry a lick, what good was he?

He saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, and he chanced a glance up in confusion what Fawkes would have swooped over here for, before his heart stuttered in surprise to see Evans staring down at him, hands on her hips. He couldn't guess at the look on her face, she'd never looked at him so directly with anything other than contempt.

"So, this thrice defined bit," she said airily, "you think it was three times each, or I did it twice more than you? I personally hope it's not something as silly a technicality as not joining Death Eaters, it should be something much more direct like actually hitting him with a curse or two."

Ironically, before, it was like he was trying to watch her without his glasses on, blurry and only the color easy to focus on. She'd always been such a constant fiery presence in his life. Now he really just sat here and looked at her, that this was like a new language to him, just seeing her speak as a normal girl.

"I'll take that as a challenge," he told her casually.

"That's exactly what I was hoping you'd say," she nodded, already turning back away. "Wouldn't be any fun if you just gave up."

Sirius now looked like the one who was dumbstruck as she walked away, but James could only shrug without answer and smile.

Remus kept going gently, some ingrained part of him still hoping Dumbledore would have another answer than this obliqueness, and finally his wish seemed to come true as the headmaster magically gifted them with the smallest ray of hope.

"What does he mean it might not have been Harry? That one we saw at the Ministry, it had Harry's name on it," stringing words together seemed to be paining Prongs greatly, but he latched heavily onto this.

"There was that odd question mark on it though," Peter corrected. "The rest all makes sense now, those were Dumbledore's and Trelawney's initials, but this must mean someone didn't put that in there until after-"

He stopped with a wince, and they didn't need him to finish anyways.

It still didn't feel like much of an answer, especially with the news that Neville could have been the other child!

Alice turned gray and Frank let out such a yelp it was as if he'd dodged his own deadly curse.

Lily instantly began hugging her friend, she wanted to do the same to Frank but he was already moving. He walked almost calmly to Dumbledore's desk, not even looking twice at Lupin or the book until he found a quill to load up with ink and a bit of parchment, then offered his hand that only just slightly trembled if one were watching for it. "May I?"

Lupin wordlessly passed it along and they watched as he copied down the prophecy and stuck it very purposefully in his pocket before handing the book back, then going over and taking his girlfriend's hand. It didn't matter the words now felt seared into their brains, he was now determined every chance they got he'd look at them every day until he found some way to break out of this and stop any Dark Lord from ever darkening their lives again.

"Is that it then?" Alice asked into the ever growing silence.

"No," Lupin whispered, still holding the book and watching Sirius and Potter. "Just, not sure how much more of this I can take."

"That's okay Moony," Sirius still managed a grin, now of all times. "Voldemort's been tormenting people before and after these two boys, but now Harry's given us a way to fight back. That power the Dark Lord knows not, maybe it's his self-destruct button!"

Potter laughed, even Lupin and Peter managed quiet snickers for the idiot.

The two would-be mothers watched him with something close to disdain for trying to make light of this, like they'd be slapping him all the way out of Hogwarts grounds if they could, but there was something in watching the Marauders now holding them back from retaliating. Frank felt it too in the way Black spoke, this wasn't really a joke to him as he played off, he'd do whatever he had to protect his godson again while keeping their focus on how to keep going rather than just dwelling on these awful moments.

Regulus recognized the same, but he wasn't so sure he could live with the outcome. He already feared going back to the world where his parents would hate him, what would happen if then the world just took his only family left away.

Harry was living through the same, as Dumbledore finally ran out of explanations for now and his thoughts returned to his lost godfather. He couldn't imagine how to get through it. So Regulus finally said the only thing he could think of to him. "I don't want you to die."

Sirius flashed him that smile he'd missed so much. "Lookie there, we can agree on two things."

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #OotP #Marauders #HP #wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Regulus Black #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

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valkyriesryde · 4 years

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Release the Hounds {6/?}

Chapter Six: Am I Supposed to Fight?

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: Both sides are preparing but the question of whether they will actually have to fight is still standing. And everyone has an opinion.

Word Count: ...2,000ish lol

A/N: Sooooo I’m a slack human being but I’m not giving up on this story! Just have a bit of a busy life at the moment hahah here you go fambam please forgive me. I’m going to try and smash out several chapters in the next week before I go on holiday/school starts back up.

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

As Hades stepped into the home of her brother she slipped off her coat and threw it over the back of the couch in the first living room.

“Where art thou my dear brother?” She called through the house and a sweet whistle sounded down the stairs and around her. She dressed and presented herself much more casual than when she met with Thor. She no longer adorned her business attire, dressed in black jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her boots hitting the marble as she climbed the stairs.

Loki’s house is extravagant. The outside something like a greek temple with its decorated ionic columns and statues. The inside much the same in its sense of power. But Loki likes to be comfortable. His home has a, well, homely feel to it. Art adorns every wall, in every corner but the blanket is thrown lazily over the couch, there’s a pile of books on the coffee table and as she walks down the hallway she can smell the sea salt as if they were right next to the ocean. She can hear the horses in his backyard through the open windows. Hades always enjoyed coming to Loki’s home because thats what it was. A home. It wasn’t a place of work, apart from his office, his children come and go as they please, there’s always dishes to be washed and laundry to be folded. She felt welcomed here.

“Since when do you work this late?” She leaned on the doorframe of his office as Loki looked up from his piles of paper, his long black hair disheveled from running his fingers through it.

“I’m a very hard worker excuse you,” he smiled and offered her the seat in front of his desk, reaching into a draw next to him and bringing out two glasses and a bottle of nectar in a beautifully adorned glass bottle. Hades’ eyes lingered on the bottle as she ached for him to just hand the thing to her so she could pour it down her throat. Lord she needed a drink after this week.

“And I’m beloved by all,” her voice was sarcastic and she drooled as he handed her the glass and raised his eyebrows.

“By me especially,” he winked. Loki, forever the cheeky bastard.

“My biggest supporter,” she smiled and they clinked their glasses.

Loki looked back down at his work, his forehead crinkled and his lip pulled between his teeth, she had an inkling to rip out the paper from under him but knew better to disturb him while he thought. It could be important afterall.

So instead her eyes wandered, they moved to the ceiling tall bookcase to his right, spotting some of her favourites amongst his collection. She stood and walked towards the giant fish tank he had to his left and peered in, watching the exotic fish minding their business.

“Why can’t people be more like you,” she muttered under her breath and the red and blue fish with a tail that looked like it belonged to a feather dancer stared blankly back at her.

“They don’t like being stared at,” Loki chimed from his desk, his attention still on his papers. She sighed and fell back into the seat.

“Perhaps if you joined me for dinner and a drink or two I wouldn’t. Why are you working, work is off limits on our nights.” She was getting agitated, her entire week had been filled with work, forgetting about the normal stuff, the addition of the council and that damn god of spring was starting to give her a headache. “I’m sick of work! I just want a night off, please Loki.”

“Well I’m sick of you being treated poorly by assholes who think they’re better.” His voice was stern and she leaned back for a second in shock at it. Loki was not often passionate about things. Unless someone had spoken poorly against him or, in Odysseus’ case injured his son and was just a “lying good for nothing asshole!” Loki fought when it was his reputation on the line, but this, this was different, the last time Hades had seen Loki fight for someone other than himself was when he went by Poseidon and they fought side by side with Thor, then Zeus, against their father. Hades prayed a war would not come of this strife that was forming between the Olympians.

“Thor told me what you’re doing, why didn’t you come to me about this? I would have told y-“

“You would have told me to stop, that it’s for nothing but I’m sorry to say Hades, you’re wrong.”

Steve had his nose buried in his notebook while his mother went on about her campaign to “keep that wicked witch of the Underworld from getting her death grip on the council.” He sketched out the cornucopia from the gates, the flowers that had adorned it. The pages were covered in those sketches, one of her crown, how it was burned into his memory but he didn’t dare draw her face. Currently his pencil shaded a hand, with a vine twisted around it, the thorns piercing its skin and Steve couldn’t help but feel the prickle of the thorns in his own hand.

“Steve!” He jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice. The book slammed shut and he slid into his pocket as she dropped a clipboard into his hands. “Go around the council’s homes, get their signature. Thor needs proof that we will not stand for her to sit with us. We must band together in a time like this. I have no doubt the olympians will agree.” He dropped the clipboard onto the table and shook his head. She paid no attention to him, instead continuing her work as she wrote notes for the debate. “Sing your name too, we can’t forget about ourselves.”

He picked up the clipboard and walked out the door making his way out of the house towards Bucky’s home first.

Bucky’s house always confused Steve, the interior and furniture changed every couple millennia but the outside, the general idea of it was always the same and it was never extravagant. Most homes in Olympus didn’t change much, they just added things to keep up with the times. Bucky’s home was basically a shack. A cabin in the woods. A beach house with the lake view to match. Made of dark wood with a porch that stretched around the entire front of the house. Bucky’s home was one that matched its owner in its entirety. Bucky was a relaxed man, he took things as they came and he was never very serious. It was one of the reasons Steve enjoyed his company so much because when his mother was up his ass or his work was being exceptionally hard Bucky was there with a pat on the back and a drink in his hand inviting him to watch the sunset over the water.

They were best friends, could always count on one another no matter what, Steve knew that Bucky had his back always, and so he knew now that no matter how much Bucky disapproved of the situation he would still back Steve.

“You’re mother is going to kill you.” Bucky sat leaning on his knees on the couch, his beer long forgotten about on the coffee table as he held the clipboard in one hand shaking his head at Steve.

“Pretty sure she always kind of wants to kill me.”

“Never. You’re her special little boy, her one perfect creation,” Bucky cocked a smile at his friend who rolled his eyes back.

“Shut up,” Steve leaned back and sipped at his own beer, watching it spin in his hands. It was a solid plan, if he went to the right people it would work, he could go behind his mother and her campaign and plead Hades’ case. Maybe even talk to Loki, though he wasn’t sure if Loki would believe him. He wasn’t overly sure if anyone would believe him.

“You already know I’m on your side Steve. I know Hades, I remember the last time she sat on the council. She’s smart, she has the knowledge and the authority, she deserves to be there, but the younger gods, the once who have forgotten what she did, the ones that have never worked with her. They don’t know. They eat out of Demeter’s hands with all her bullshit about satan and how we ‘don’t need the dead in the business of the living’,” Bucky mocked Demeter, he was never afraid to do that in front of Steve, at first he felt slightly weird about it, like his mother would know if he ever spoke a bad word about her but he soon realised the Bucky was safe, he could be himself and say what he wanted without consequences, well, with little consequences.

Steve thought about what Bucky had said, he knew that Bucky would be on his side, Bucky had never not shown support for Hades herself, just, ya know, the stupid shit Steve did in Hades…

But something stayed with Steve. ‘the ones that have never worked with her’, had Bucky worked with Hades? When would Bucky have to work with her? Bucky worked with the sun, he worked with prophecies and medicine, none of which concerned the dead.

“Start with Becca, she and I are one of the same, Pallas-Nat, she’ll be on your side too, I know she’s already talked to Loki about it. That’s who you should go to after, to him, if he knows, if he has confirmation from Nat, I know they hate each other because of Athens and Odysseus but he trusts her word, he trusts that she’ll choose the winning side.” Bucky went on and on about who Steve should see, who he knew that would be on his side.

He listened intently, took note and made a plan of what he should say to each. To Becca, goddess of the hunt, the best way was to talk to her about Bucky, they always fought side by side. To Natasha, goddess of wisdom, it was going to be harder. But if Bucky was right then she already agreed with Steve, they just needed to join forces.

Hades,

I don’t know when you’ll get this, I plan on giving it to Peter to pass on, I know I can trust him to get this to you safely. There’s five days before the council debates and I thought you would appreciate an update as to what is happening in Olympus.

I imagine you have your own ways, maybe spies, Loki has probably discussed matters with you also. He said he had told you he would fight whether you liked it or not, how you told him that he was stubborn. You said I was stubborn as well, I guess I am, but I can’t help fighting for what I believe in. I believe in you. I believe that you should have a say and so do many of the others, Loki, Becca, Natasha, and Jane all agree with me. I think we actually have a shot but Loki thinks it will take your appearance to convince Thor and the lesser gods and nymphs that will be present.

I hope to see you there, please.

Yours,

Steve

Hades and Sam sat side by side on the balcony that overlooked the gates. They watched as night engulfed them and there was an eery silence between the two. A fresh argument still sitting between them, two sides of the same fight.

Hades’ mind was fighting with itself, her guard was being torn down brick by brick as Loki and Steve tried to convince her to stand before the twelve Olympians. But Sam wasn’t a fan of the idea.

“What if it’s a trap,” he argued, “we don’t know what Demeter has up her sleeve,” he said, “we don’t need them!” He raised his voice and she let him get it all out.

“Are you finished yet?” She brushed her hand over her dress and looked at him as Sam nodded. “You’re right.”

Sam was shocked at what she said, he expected her to rationalise her reasons, he expected her to tell him to mind his own business, to tell him that she would stand up for the Underworld. But she didn’t.

“I’m what now?”

“You’re right Sam. Everything about this is stupid. The living and the dead shouldn’t be mixed, bad things happen, bad things like husbands wanting to resurrect their wives, like people thinking they can make deals in order to mess with what is natural. They don’t respect us or what we do here, you’re right, it could be a trap. Demeter will make it a living hell for myself and the rest of you here if she can. You’re right, we don’t need them, we run things differently here, our systems aren’t the same.”

“Then what…” Sam looked at Hades in awe, there was fire in her eyes and he knew that look, she was sick of being undermined, she was angry, she was determined and if he knew her as well as he thought he did he knew what that look meant. She had a plan. “Then why are you considering it?”

“Because they need us.”

Chapter Seven: Here Comes Trouble

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#release the hounds #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #greeks myth au #persephone!steve rogers x hades!reader

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bidnezz · 3 years

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Revenant [1/5]

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, background Clary/Izzy, mentions of past Magnus/Camille

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Violence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Downworlder Politics, Betrayal, Revenge, Background Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Angry Magnus Bane, Light Romance, Mystery, Prophecy, Minor Character Death, lots of death

Summary:

Alec has heard the legends of Magnus Bane. He knows all the tales and he’s read all the records of his downfall. The High Warlock of Brooklyn who became so hungry for power that he began to mistreat the very warlocks who sought his help. It’s been a hundred years since then, and when a sudden rift opening between realms brings an onslaught of lesser demons, so too does it bring Magnus Bane, insatiable and vengeful for the power and people that locked him away in Edom. As newly appointed Head of the New York Institute, it’s Alec’s job to protect the residents of New York from one of the greatest Demons he’s ever faced. Only, he has no idea how, and maybe things aren't what they seem.

Art by the talented: @abby0007

Beta’d by the wonderful: @squiggly-lines-on-a-page

Read on ao3

Something to note: This fic is extremely AU. I've fitted a lot of events that we know to be canon (such as dates of events happening) to fit my story, and the past events happened around the early 1900's, until present canon time. There are also many mentions of blood and wounds and lots of death in the fic, so please be wary if that's a no for you!

Chapter One

Rushing residents and evening traffic fills the bustling streets of New York as the surrounding sky begins to darken with the dusk of the setting sun. Nightlife begins as shadows emerge from the alleyways, and doors that lead to no good open with the creak of bad decisions. The Downworld rises to the occasion, drinks in-hand and smiles plastered. So, too, do the Nephilim of the New York Institute who patrol the streets to keep tabs on those unknowing of the dangers that lurk in the dark.

Alexander Lightwood stands alone, weighted with shoulders heavy and nervous energy surrounding him in his new office.

Head of the Institute.

The words roll around his tongue, foreign in his mouth but synonymous with him now. It feels… odd. But welcome.

A knock brings him back, a light rapping of knuckles on the thick wooden door, followed by ebony hair and dark red lips encasing a grin that could only belong to his sister. “Alec,” she calls, her grin turning wry. “Or should I say Head of the Institute?”

“I’ve seen the position lost to better people than I, let’s not jinx this.”

“People? Yes. Leaders?” Isabelle pauses for effect as she strides towards Alec, a dramatic flair he knows to always expect. “I haven’t seen a leader yet, more deserving than you, dear brother. You can be happy for yourself, Alec. Smile, gloat, live a little. Even in the confines of this tiny room.”

Hard as he tries, Alec can’t reign in the small smile that curves his lips. He won’t gloat, he won’t yell and cheer and celebrate. That’s not him. But he will allow himself to feel pride and happiness in this small moment in time with his sister, and he’ll lock it away as a cherished memory to strengthen their bond. This is a turning point for him, a chance to uphold the Lightwood name and make his parents proud. Finally, a chance for them to see exactly the type of leader they raised, a chance to prove that it was all worth it - will be worth it. A chance for him to look upon his mother’s face and for once see something other than barely concealed disappointment and contempt.

“Hey buddy,” A low rasp calls from the opened door to the office. Jace rests against the curved door frame, arms crossed and wide smile dimpling his cheeks. “Oh,” he starts, adjusting his posture to stand perfectly upright as he offers a small salute to Alec. “I guess I should be more proper in front of our new leader, eh?”

The twinkle in his eyes and the way his smile devolves into a shit-eating grin only pulls a small chuckle from Alec, and he reaches his arm out to grip Jace’s as he’s pulled into a rough, brotherly hug. It’s warm, comforting, and when Isabelle joins in - complete.

Right here, right now… this is the turning point for Alec. No more failing, no more letting anyone down. This is where his new life as a leader begins, where everything he’s worked towards shifts into what it was always meant to be. This is what he was born for.

So then why does it feel so empty?

There's a gnawing inside of his chest, a cavern of muddled introspection and half understanding. The goal was always this, the finish line has been crossed and his direction never clearer. But under the anxiety of being freshly anointed, if Alec were to peel away the layers of doubt and worry until he’s viewing his own satisfied ego, what else would he see? Happiness, of course, to some extent. Nothing more, and nothing less. Unfulfilled pockets inside of him that yearn in wonder, and desire for something more.

A mother’s love, perhaps. To be accepted and finally seen as enough.

Yes. An affirmation from Maryse Lightwood herself, and Alec’s sure he’ll feel that last puzzle piece locked into place. ‘But for now,’ Alec thinks to himself as he watches Isabelle and Jace enraptured in a hilarious conversation no doubt at his expense, ‘I’ve got all I need right in front of me.’

With his day just beginning in the blossoming night, Alec prepares himself for the duties and responsibilities that lie ahead of him.

On the other side of New York as the darkness creeps heavier, something more sinister begins to tear at the fabric that separates their realm from the rest.

---

A chime echoes through the halls of the Institute odd hours later, only a precursor to the dull bang as the wooden doors slam open to reveal a crowd of people in disarray. Alec, bent over a table in the main hall with the city’s layout and a small group of Shadowhunters, turns at the commotion brow raised and senses on alert.

“There’s a demon!” someone in the jumbled mess of bodies hurtling towards Alec proclaims.

“He’s strong - too strong,” another one says with a gasp.

Jace steps forward, hand on the hilt of his seraph blade, the other on his stele. Prepared for battle, ready for a fight. “Where?”

Three voices begin to clamor all at once in a disastrous explanation that prompts Alec to step forward and raise a calming hand in the air. The voices stop, and Jace turns to him with a question at the ready. “One at a time or we won’t get anywhere. You,” Alec points towards the least frantic Shadowhunter of the trio, “what happened?”

The man winces as he takes a step forward, favoring the right side of his body. Red stains his clothes; it paints his pale face and each of his limbs. It’s blood, Alec notes easily, dried and congealing in some spots no doubt from the cold autumn wind on the way back to the Institute, but some of the wounds still bleed fresh. His blond hair is matted to his face with sweat and ichor and his lips are caked with a mixture of all three, none of it enough to hide the burgeoning purple bruises that are blooming on his face. If the man’s body trembles, Alec says nothing of it.

“We were patrolling near Williamsburg,” the man begins, a slow nervous lilt to his voice. “There was an unusual spike in demon activity at dusk. We overheard residents saying it was a minor earthquake, but we didn’t believe that. We suspected it was related to the demons. And it was,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to Alec and the room now filled with curious Shadowhunters. “There was a horde of them, Ravener demons. We thought it was just a basic attack, we didn’t know why they were there, but we prepared to get rid of them anyway. It was in the middle of our fight with the demons that someone else showed up-“

“Magnus Bane!” sputters the man in the middle, specks of red flying from his mouth and smattering the floor. “He’s back. He’s back and he’s here for revenge! That's what he told us!”

A gasp echoes in the silent halls of The Institute, followed by the low thrum of chatter as Shadowhunters begin to talk. To the side, Alec catches Isabelle’s gaze, stony and reserved in thought, but sparking with worry for the day’s sudden turn of events.

“Let’s get you guys cleaned up and healed,” Alec steps forward, stele in hand and iratze on his tongue.

“I-It doesn’t work,” the blond man whispers, shaking his head and peering up at Alec with furrowed brows. “We hid in the alleyways and tried to heal. Perhaps it’s the poison from the ichor, but I suspect it’s tied to the magic that Magnus Bane hit us with that makes our healing runes null.”

More chatter from the crowd of people, louder this time, and Alec nods once before turning to the person on his left. “Clary, see to it that they’re taken care of and bandaged properly. Triple check healing runes and make sure we get a full analysis report on all your findings.” It’s an order given with a tone Alec hopes conveys exactly what he’s thinking. He needs to know what’s causing the iratze’s to not work, he needs to know if it’s just a reaction to the ichor or something altogether more threatening. More than that, however, he needs discretion. Kept under wraps, with only Alec and trusted company to know the answers. With the way Clary keeps his firm gaze and offers a single, silent nod, Alec’s sure she understands.

“Everyone else,” Alec speaks, loud and commanding. “Back to your duties.”

The room pauses, wary and hesitant with the new information discovered and seeping into every conspiracy forming in the back of their minds. They want answers, they want clarity, they want knowledge that Alec doesn’t yet have. Resigned to knowing they won’t get any more than this, they file out slowly with soft whispers and bowed heads towards one another.

It’s only several seconds later when he notices the hesitation spread across the injured Shadowhunter’s faces, a look shared between the three of them. They’re brimming with the words they want to speak, information they’ve withheld, just barely. Only, they’re scared and Alec’s not sure if it’s a result of the situation they’ve just encountered, or the consequences they think they’ll have to face. Quietly, Alec steps towards them and grants a reassuring nod.

“Sir, Magnus Bane-” the Shadowhunter’s words catch in his throat. Alec hasn’t heard this name in years, not since training, and it already feels exhausted. “He didn’t let us leave with our lives for nothing. He gave us a warning.” There’s another pause, ominous in nature and the patience Alec composes himself with is waning thinner and thinner by the second.

“Go on,” Alec presses, voice carefully neutral.

“He wanted us to relay to you that this is a Downworlder affair, and for the Shadowhunters not to meddle unless they’re prepared to begin a war with Edom.”

The words come out in a single breath, rushed and trembling. He suspects it was infinitely more intimidating and terrifying than it sounds coming from three battered and bloodied Shadowhunters, but the message is clear: Don’t get involved.

“Thank you,” Alec finds himself saying, thoughts already trailing into a plan of action, mind already gearing for only two options. The first, to take an observer's role in this newfound issue of Downworld battles. The second, to raise alert to the Clave and begin to fortify the Institute for the foreseeable attack once involvement is inevitable. Or perhaps a third option is available, Alec speculates to himself.

Diplomacy.

There’s very little he knows of Magnus Bane, what scraps of information left of him are withheld in Clave documents. He’ll gather up what he can find, form a case to present to an angry, vengeful Greater Demon, and see if some sort of reasoning can be made.

With a sigh, Alec thumbs away the blooming headache from his temples and heads towards his office, doubt already sprouting up in the corners of his tenuous plans. Nothing is for certain, of course. Who’s to say Magnus Bane will be a reasonable man with the quivering display he left for Alec at the doors of the Institute. The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s going to get to the bottom of what’s going on and take care of it personally, Greater Demon or not, New York is Alec’s city now.

---

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn for decades until his banishment to Edom at the beginning of the 1900’s, was frequently described as a hedonist. Reports on him vary from year to year. Some decades he remained under the radar, shielded from the eyes of the Clave. Others, he became notorious for begetting impish troubles between the classes. The only consistency found in any and all reports of the former High Warlock is the tendency towards extravagance and self-indulgence, with a craving for social gatherings.

Leaning back in his seat, Alec traces a finger along the case of his device and focuses on two words.

High Warlock.

He was obviously well-liked at some point in time, formidable enough to be deemed a worthy leader, and charismatic enough to be seen as an ambassador for other Warlocks. There must have been great strength at his hands, and greater support backing him to attain the level of priority that he gained.

So… what happened?

Power, clearly, and too much of it. The same Warlocks who hoisted him up petitioned to get him banished, cried his name in the streets of Brooklyn and swore his downfall.

And they made it happen.

Warlocks from all parts of New York flocked and rallied towards Brooklyn in hopes of seeing the demise of one Magnus Bane. Clave reports account for groups gathering outside of his apartment, banding together to peel away any protection shields cast up in defense. Among them, a leader: Lorenzo Rey.

The Clave watched from the shadows, vowed to not get involved in affairs they deemed less than worthy, but insisted on documenting it all. And Downworlders are the definition of unworthy in the Clave’s eyes.

There’s a nagging in the back of Alec’s mind, a wonder if anyone tried to help, tried to stop it. If there was another way.

But no, Downworlder affairs need not be meddled in, especially when Shadowhunters were never involved in the first place.

With a sigh, he sets down the reports and rubs at the bridge of his nose. What makes this situation any different? Magnus Bane threatened for Shadowhunters not to get involved. He sent a message back in the form of barely living soldiers who were just doing their duty, a message sent loud, but not so clear.

“Are you going to report this to the Clave?” Isabelle’s voice pierces through his thoughts, and Alec prides himself on only showing a fraction of surprise when he turns to face her.

“Of course I am, Izzy. It’s my duty.”

His sister peers down at him from her spot on the corner of his desk, eyes scrutinizing every emotion that flickers across his face. She doesn’t seem appeased with whatever she finds. “You can wait if you want, Alec. You can see what happens next. Try your plans first and go to the Clave later with your findings.”

Alec scoffs. “And have my position rescinded for failure to uphold the most basic understanding of status? The Clave will know everything I know, because that is what is right. They’ll know the best course of action, because they know Magnus Bane and what he’s capable of.”

Isabelle watches him for several long moments, trying to read for any hint of something to give away any of the thoughts running through Alec’s head. When she receives nothing, she nods and reaches for the handheld with the last report Alec was reading, and holds it in front of herself. She skims the words on the page, traces a slow finger from picture to picture, before settling on one that she sets down in front of Alec with a smile.

“You know, for a Greater Demon who’s here to enact his revenge on the Downworlders, he’s actually quite handsome.” Her lips pull into a smirk, and her eyes await a reaction, but Alec gives her none. He simply shrugs and locks the screen of the handheld. “He was, at least. Who knows what he looks like now after a hundred years in Edom.”

And honestly, the last thing Alec wants to focus on is the physical features of a Demon here to cause chaos. He doesn’t want to think about the picture of Magnus Bane in Clave documents, drink in hand and that perfectly tailored suit fitting his body, smiling at the photographer with his dark-rimmed eyes. It doesn’t matter what Magnus Bane looked like then, or even now. The only thing that matters now is the information he’s managed to scrounge up from every instance of this Demon’s name in Clave history, and how he can use that knowledge to his advantage.

Magnus Bane was cunning, sneaky, and smart in the early 1900’s. He was dangerous then, and Alec’s not going to believe that Edom did anything but magnify that danger after a century of letting his anger fester.

---

Moonlight spills through the windows, casts soft light along the path Alex takes as he makes his way, resigned, towards the infirmary.

The halls of the Institute are sparse with Shadowhunters now gathered in the training hall and library in hopes of strengthening themselves for whatever battle they foresee coming. It’s all for naught, Alec thinks to himself as he recounts the lackluster conversation that transpired between him and his parents just an hour ago, accompanied by Inquisitor Herondale.

“You’re to remain on the outside and cease any and all involvement in these Downworlder... squabbles.” Herondale’s voice had cut sharp and left no room for questions. Squabbles. That’s the extent that the Clave had watered this threat down to. A Greater Demon, capable of stripping away their ability to heal without the use of mundane technology. A Downworld squabble.

“Alec,” his mother’s stern voice had cut in, low and severe, “you need to make it absolutely clear to everyone that they are not to expose themselves to any fight that Magnus Bane chooses to partake in. Any patrolling Shadowhunters are there for one reason, and one reason only. To observe and record.”

Yes, to observe and record. To keep an account of what happened for Clave history. More ammunition for Shadowhunters to keep themselves separated from Downworlders, and information to add to the files of warlocks the Clave already suspects are dangerous. Fuel to the fire, all wrapped up in the innocent guise of history.

It doesn’t sit well with Alec, being a bystander to the havoc a furious Greater Demon might cause. The Clave won’t step in, they won’t be a helping hand in all of this, and Alec hates to sit on the sidelines of what could possibly be the worst decision in the history of the Accords.

But the Clave has the final say on any Shadowhunter involvement in Downworld affairs. The Clave is every bit as responsible as Alec for whatever presides in Brooklyn in the coming days. The Clave doesn’t want to stop Magnus Bane, so why should Alec?

Alec’s fingers wrap around the cool metal of the door handle when he remembers his mother’s face, the expression she wore so unabashedly in front of him. Disappointment so thinly veiled underneath all of that carefully crafted apathy. Disappointment for the way Alec offered his solutions to Inquisitor Herondale? Disappointment in the way Alec questioned the motives of the Clave for hiding in the background when they could find an alternative to be part of the solution? Disappointment in Alec, for becoming Head of the Institute, clearly unprepared and unwelcome by even his own mother?

The smile that graced his mother’s features when he first saw her had been enough for the newly awakened pride inside of him, seeking the tiniest shred of affirmation from his harshest critic. How short-lived it was. How quickly had that pride deflated into embarrassment when he began to speak of the attack from Magnus Bane and his mother’s eye shrouded themselves in disapproval.

Perhaps he could have done something differently today. He could have proceeded with a different plan of action that would have appeased Herondale’s thirst for non-consequential knowledge, if he had only known. But now he does, and though redemption is not far off, it’s going to be an uphill battle.

He’ll do better.

With a steadying breath, Alec pushes open the wooden doors to the infirmary and steps in.

There’s the distinct sterile scent of Iodine, and far more lines of IV that are hooked up than Alec is used to seeing. They’re a back up, mostly, for when an iratze isn’t enough, or the wounds are too infected with ichor to properly heal, but even then…

The click-clack of heels on tile brings his focus to the lithe redhead who steps towards him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

“It’s not the ichor,” Clary begins, wasting no time. She’s worked with Alec long enough to know he doesn’t think highly of beating around the bush or dawdling. “I was able to analyze the blood samples enough that I could detect a magical signature on all of them. Bane, of course, but it seems that the magic is keeping the wounds from healing. They’re not re-opening, so to speak, but they aren’t clotting and the stitches I’ve made don’t seem to be helping the process either. They just,” Clary inhales a deep sigh, and expels a shaky breath. “They just bleed. Not enough to drain them completely, but enough to cause substantial blood loss. With how much they’ve already lost and how much more they’re going to lose, they’re going to need several transfusions just to stay alive.”

Alec turns to face one of the Shadowhunters laying on the cold, white bed. There are bandages around his arms, patches of gauze scattered across his body and face and butterfly bandages to keep small wounds closed. But for every bandage, for every strip of white, there’s red that blots it. Small beads of blood that pool at each line of cuts until they brim over and cascade in a slow and steady spill of red that stains the sheets beneath.

Three Shadowhunters in critical care, while not a huge blow, only paves the way for bigger hits in the future if Alec chooses to stand in the way of Magnus Bane. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, to bet it all on the unknown, to subject the very same people who put him in this position to the torturous death sentence of blood loss.

“What are we going to do, Alec?”

Clary’s voice is soft when she speaks, uncertainty replacing the confidence and assertion he’s so used to hearing. Yes, three Shadowhunters isn’t a big loss, but it’s an omen chilling enough that he doesn’t want to cause panic and worry within the Institute.

“We stay quiet about this. If anyone asks, the ichor and magic is causing a unique reaction that you’re working on a remedy for. They’ll be fine.”

They’ll be fine.

Even to himself, Alec sounds scared.

“Maybe we need to find Magnus Bane, we could talk to him and ask - “

“Ask what?” Alec snaps his attention towards Clary, who frowns up at him.

With a calculated pause, she surveys the room’s occupants. “We can ask him what he’s here for, what he’s trying to gain from this.”

“He wants whoever sealed him away in Edom to pay.”

Clary’s brows crinkle together, and her eyes focus as she undoubtedly tries to recollect any information on Magnus Bane she’s heard of over the years. There’s not much to remember, not much spoken through word of mouth besides cautionary tales and warnings on why Downworlders must always be watched. The real meat of the situation is hidden in the files of cases over the years. Cases that litter Alec’s desk, pages of text that have been ingrained into his mind.

“Maybe we could help him,” She offers, timidly.

“Help him?”

“I know it sounds crazy, us helping a Greater Demon,” Clary begins. “We work on keeping the Downworld in order so to speak, right? We make sure that danger doesn't seep through into mundane territory, and so far it is. We can seek out Magnus Bane, see why he’s after these people, who they are, and what he’s trying to achieve. Maybe… Maybe helping him will bring more peace than leaving him to his own devices.”

Clary’s not wrong, at least to Alec she isn’t. It’s the better option, to help Magnus Bane with whatever mission he’s steering towards so he can be done with it. Get him out of the way before it becomes a bigger issue with the Clave.

But the Clave.

“The Inquisitor doesn’t want that,” Alec explains tersely.

Clary rolls her eyes and wears a common expression of distaste so many around him always do when the Clave is involved. “They aren’t here, Alec. The Clave only cares about the Law, with no regard to how it actually applies to all of our lives in the Institute. You’re our leader now. I understand you report back to the Clave, but they don’t have to know. At least not yet.”

It’s a temptation Alec won’t entertain for longer than a brief second. Going against the Clave is not an option. They’ve been given orders, and he’ll make sure they follow them.

“We will not go-“

Alec’s words are interrupted by the high-pitched ringing of his phone that he answers immediately.

“Isabelle?”

“Alec,” There’s a loud crash that crackles through the receiver of the phone that instantly sets him on high alert. “Alec, he’s here. Magnus Bane, he’s come to Hotel DuMort with an army of demons. You need to come!”

“Hotel DuMort? What are you even doing there, Isabelle? You were told to stay out of this, you shouldn’t be anywhere near other Downworlders with Magnus Bane around!”

“Jace and I came to -“

There’s silence as the phone loses connection, and Alec can’t help the involuntary reaction of slamming his empty fist into one of the unoccupied beds of the infirmary. “Fuck,” he spits out, before shoving the phone into his pocket and making his way towards the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Clary shouts as she rushes to his side.

“You will stay here and stick to the plan, Morgenstern,” Alec grits through his teeth.

“There is no plan, Alec! I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, giving people false hope when I can go with you and help.”

A moment of silence. A moment where Alec feels the heavy thud of his heartbeat in the palms of his hand where his fists are balled so tightly, before he exits the infirmary in quiet anger with Clary trailing behind him.

---

There are screeches and screams that surround the Hotel DuMort as Alec and Clary gather closer. To mundanes, only quiet calm and the sounds of cars honking with idle engines fill the late night streets, but behind the screen of blissful oblivion lies something much darker, something far more inauspicious.

Sparks of red shoot from one of the top floor windows, and Alec and Clary dodge the shards of glass that sprinkle down on them as they search for an entrance. Magic enchants the walls and tingles against Alec’s hand as he pushes through one of the side entrances not blocked off with deadbolts and hanging locks. It would be almost too easy for any mundane to just waltz in, and he’s sure under different circumstances this would be a red-flag for Hotel DuMort’s compliance with the Accords to be taken into question.

The room inside is dark and empty at first glance, but a gasp from Clary and the tip of his boots hitting something raised against the floor shows him that they’re not alone.

A handful of lifeless bodies litter the floor in front of them, surrounded by darkness and sparks of electricity from the light sources that have been shot out and electrical wires exposed. Vampires. Demons. Nothing left alive.

It makes the fear of Jace and his sister being one of these figures all the more real, and he finds the weight of his feet carrying him faster towards the staircase door. Logically, he knows that’s not the case. He’d feel it through their bond if something happened to his parabatai, and he knows that Jace would throw himself into the line of fire first before he let anything happen to Isabelle. With Clary hot on his trail they race up the stairs, stamina and speed rune lighting up and fading quickly with the wave of their steles. It’s only a few quick minutes before they’re paused at the door to the 7th floor, only stopped by the body of a dead vampire blocking the entrance from the other side. With a grunt and a shove, Alec pushes the door open and they step through into a fight that’s already begun.

The sight of vampires greet them; teeth bared, claws sharp and blades in hand fighting off the demons that surround them, ash covering the floor they fight ont. Clary whispers his name, but he doesn’t turn to her, focused critically on the threats in front of them. Alec takes one step forward, close enough to the nearest vampire that he can almost get a word in, before he’s swiped at suddenly by a Ravener demon.

He dodges the first attack with several hurried paces back and reaches for an arrow from his quiver, before the demon fizzles out before his eyes. The final blow in question is dealt by Clary, who heaves a breath and grins at Alec as she pulls her seraph blade back from the fading particles of the dying demon. It’s one miniscule victory short-lived, however, because in its place pour in three more from the broken windows that line the walls. Alec nocks an arrow into his bow quickly and chances a glance towards Clary out of the corner of his eye, who curls her lips back in a grimace and readies for a fight.

Together, they take them out. One after another, an onslaught of demons rush and growl and shriek in attack. None of them get close enough to injure, though all of them try, and it’s not until the remaining few pull back and crawl through the windows that Alec realizes they’re not retreating for the sake of defeat.

“Upstairs,” Alec breathes, ragged. “Isabelle and Jace must be upstairs.”

“The demons are no-doubt being called back by Magnus Bane. We need to get up there.”

A hiss from the side catches their attention, a wounded vampire covered in blood and ichor. “Going up there is a death sentence. Your other Shadowhunters were already doomed before they’d even reach the top floor..”

There’s only a brief look of worry shared between them, before Clary and Alec are racing up the next staircase in search of Isabelle and Jace. Jace isn’t dead, he knows for a fact, but the possibility of Isabelle being injured fuels him up the next flights of stairs that tug at his parabatai bond. They’re close, he can feel Jace and the feelings being pushed through the bond right now. Confusion, anger, worry… Fear.

Fear of Magnus Bane?

They’re close, so close now, and Alec knows he’ll finally get answers to all of the questions and worries pouring through their minds as he and Clary push through that final door that leads them to the top floor of Hotel DuMort.

Relief overcomes him, spreads warmth through his body as he sees the golden blond of Jace’s hair, and his sister right beside him across the room. But it’s replaced, almost immediately, when he spots the scene that surrounds them.

In the middle of the room are two figures, Camille Belcourt who Alec knows to be the leader of the Brooklyn Vampire Clan, and someone he can only presume to be Magnus Bane.The pair of them ensconced in a circle of high red flames that prevent anyone from leaving or entering. There’s a conversation happening inside of it, screaming and yelling from Camille that Alec can’t hear through the roar and heat of fire, and wild gestures from Magnus Bane, whose back is turned to he and Clary.

Scattered around the room are clusters of vampires fighting off the unending horde of demons, unsuccessful in their endeavors. Jace and Isabelle are with them, the crack of his sister’s whip snapping louder than the crackling of fire that licks at Alec as he steps nearer. There’s no way around the fire, no way for them to get any closer even as he and Clary fight their way through the demons rushing towards them.

So they fight, continuously with only precious seconds in between each attack for them to catch their breath and gather their strength, but Alec doesn’t tire as the ichor mingles with the sweat soaking his clothes and coating his skin. He won’t give up until he finds a way to Isabelle and Jace, and he’ll die trying if he has to.

Another demon jumps at him, and this one catches Alec at an angle that his arrow can’t quite reach in time. The knowledge of being cut hits first, followed shortly after by the pain in his shoulder. It stings and burns, not from the fire, but from the magic laced and infused deeply within the demons themselves.

It’s a minor inconvenience, he tells himself as he reaches for the seraph blade holstered to his thigh and jabs it into the back of the demon as he dodges a second attack. It hurts, but it’s nothing he can’t stand, nothing an iratze won’t heal.

It’s a lie he knows to be true. He can feel the magic tingling against his skin where the blood begins to seep from the shallow wound. He’ll be fine for now, at least long enough to get them out of the building and back into the safety of the Institute.

A grunt beside him brings him back into the fight and he turns to see Clary swing her weapon into the skull of the demon closest to her, while kicking another into the fire beside her that consumes the demon with a sizzling crack. It’s almost more effective to use the fire to their advantage, Alec realizes as he and Clary share a knowing look. They change tactics quickly, rushing towards the demons from the outskirts of the room, boots thudding heavily against the hardened exoskeleton of the demons as they rush towards them. The vampires nearby take note, exhausted and battered far more than the two of them, and begin to follow suit.

It’s not long before the flocks of demons that pour into the room fade into a more sparse area of coverage and everyone involved in the small battle can take longer than a moment's breath.

Whispers and speculation fill the silence when only a few demons are left remaining, being fought off by courageous vampires with a sudden need to direct their adrenaline. In the middle of the room the fire howls fiercer, brighter and hotter as Camille and Magnus continue to occupy the center, closer than ever to each other.

There’s discourse, still an argument being had if the curl of the Magnus’ fist and Camille’s bared teeth are anything to go off of. It’s still too loud to hear the topic at hand, something unsettling and stormy brewing between the two, but then suddenly something shifts in Camille’s incensed demeanor.

It’s as if a switch has flipped, as if the anger has evaporated with the heat of the flames, and left in its place a barrage of tears that trickle down her face. She’s frustrated, Alec can see it in the square of her shoulders, but she’s given up the fight to Magnus. Part of him knows it’s not his place to care about the outcome of the events that are unfolding before them, that he has other more pressing matters at hand, such as getting to Jace and Isabelle. But the flames don’t give an inch of slack, and the path to them is blocked almost entirely by dead bodies and debris.

A pale hand reaches up, contrasting shockingly to the deep tan of Magnus’ cheek where it rests, color that Alec can see isn’t just the result of the shadows from the fire. From Alec’s spot behind Magnus, he can’t see the expression he wears or the effect this gesture has on him. What he can see, though, is the tense of his back through the black blazer that fits his body, and the way he straightens out the length of himself when presented with the vulnerability of Camille.

And Camille, for all her false innocence and shrewd manner over the years, seems genuine for once.

With rapt attention, Alec watches every step closer she takes.He can feel rather than hear the staccato click of her heels along the marble floor for every inch of distance she closes. He should look away, he thinks in a moment of polite weakness.

But, no.

This is a deliberate display, a show the two of them are putting on for any Downworlder, Shadowhunter, or Mundane who will watch. And so he does.

He watches, enraptured, as Camille raises herself onto the balls of her feet, black stilettos lifting and pale arms encircling the strong shoulders of the Greater Demon before her. He watches still, as the bright red lipstick that stains her lips also colors Magnus’ cheek and smears against their skin when she ducks her head into the junction of his neck. It’s almost too intimate for him to continue watching, the moment surely too much for them to all be allowed to partake in. It feels sinful, in a way. Alec almost averts his eyes, guiltily casting his gaze downward, when he catches Magnus’ hand reflecting back to him the brightest flames through the rings that adorn the fingers curling into the dark long locks of Camille’s hair.

Most importantly, in his bashfully thorough scrutiny of the scene before him, he watches Magnus’ other hand, unnoticed and dim in the shadows of their two bodies. A hand that ignites a soft blue nearly unseen through the fire, magic that produces a wooden stake to spear straight into the unsuspecting heart laid out before him.

A gasp, a lungful of staggered breathing fills Camille as she cries out in the same silent shock Alec feels vibrating through him. Her body, lithe and slender and her deep burgundy dress darken with color as she twitches and fades before them into slow settling ash on the floor, graceful and beautiful in ways that only the leader of the New York vampire clan could manage. But Alec pays her no mind as her memory slips lower beneath the line of his vision, all the while his eyes remain steadfast on the Demon before him. On Magnus Bane.

The fire lets up minutes later, and the surviving vampires rush towards Camille with their inhuman speed, crying and bemoaning the loss of their leader with wails that echo in the silence now befalling the room. There’s a tug in the pit of his stomach, a pull that he recognizes clearly as his parabatai bond. He should follow it to Jace, to Isabelle and undoubtedly Clary who is likely already with them. He knows, logically, what he should do now. He knows what’s expected of him, and he knows what’s right. And yet…

Now that he knows for certain his siblings are safe, there are more important matters at hand. Like the fact that Magnus Bane now stands in front of him, piercing Alec with golden eyes and the hardened exterior of a Greater Demon who shows no remorse for having just killed someone.

Time seems to move slowly as Magnus lifts a hand and summons a portal, an endless swirl of darkness that will release him from the destruction he’s leaving behind, that will take him further from the answers Alec seeks. Magnus turns then, takes one step into the void and the flow of time accelerates so quickly that in that instant Alec doesn’t realize he’s stepping through the portal with him until the roar of magic deafens him to the sounds of his sister’s call.

#shmb2021 #shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfiction #Magnus x Alec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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