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weallpartyatybcpatricksfuneral · 3 years

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I'll be making this into a long fic, but for now I chose to keep it short. Hermitcraft x Dream SMP crossover

Title: button

Grian sat down at the oak wood table, brow furrowed. Another day, another failed attempt to reconnect to Hermitcraft. The strange glitch that had caused the border to fall in the first place must have been repaired, for the world border was back up and running. His communicator didn’t work outside of his home server, and Phil’s crows (who insisted on following the man everywhere, and who Phil had put up to the task of flying between the severs, trying to gather intel on the border glitch and if people were trying to find him) haven’t delivered any news.

The builder glanced out the window as the sun set over the horizon. Past that was Hermitcraft. His home. What was Mumbo doing? Scar? Iskall? Xisuma? How was the war progressing without him? Did anyone notice his absence? No, Grian, don’t get sad. Happy thoughts only...Happy thoughts.

“Grain!”

Torn away from his thoughts, Grian looked up to see Philza, his dark grey wings fluffed up in distress. “Wil’s sent a letter.” The avian said, holding up a piece of paper.

“Well, that’s good!” Phil had been under extreme stress these past couple of days since Wilbur hadn’t sent a letter in weeks and the past few he had sent were...concerning, to say the least. “What’s it say?”

Another letter should have been a relief, but from the look on Phil’s face, Grian concluded that this letter was everything except relief.

“It’s just a date, time, and coordinates. November 16th, noon, with a set of coords in L’Manberg…” Phil’s voice trailed off as his dark emerald eyes scanned the page, over and over, as if he were looking for more writing than just a simple date.

“That’s tomorrow, innit?” Grian questioned, trying to distract the man from his distress. That’s how Grian ignored his. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. “I mean, you’ll be able to see your sons, check up on Wil?”

“Something doesn’t feel right about this, Grain.” Even after all this time together, Phil still called him Grain. Grian stifled a laugh, as it wasn’t the appropriate time to giggle. “His last few letters concerned me. He mentioned something in his last one about 11 and a half stacks of TNT.” Phil looked Grian dead in the eye and whispered, “Grain, I think Wilbur is going to blow L’Manberg!”

“But why?” Grian attempted to rationalize with the distraught Phil, who was now pacing across the room making stressed-out bird noises. “He won the election, shouldn’t he be content with that?” This type of stuff never happened on Hermitcraft. There were never serious talks of blowing up anyone’s builds, much less an entire country! The only time TNT is used is in pranks, and they always helped clean up after.

“You clearly don’t know Wilbur...He’s a force of chaos, I’ll tell you that. A creative little shit who always comes up with new ways to get what he wants. If he wants L’Manberg gone, then he’ll go to crazy lengths to achieve that goal.”

Silence fell.

“We need to get to L’Manberg. Now. It’s about a day’s flight from here, and we need to leave now if we want to get there as fast as fucking possible.” Phil tucked the letter into the pocket of his dark green kimono and flexed his wings. Unlike Grian, who used the sleek and slim elytra to fly about, Philza had a pair of actual feathery wings. Upon arrival, Phil explained that he was a bird hybrid, also known as an avian. He had feathers on the sides of his face and neck with elfish ears. Back on Hermitcraft, every member of the server was human.

Grian and Phil started out on their journey north, towards the world border of Dream SMP. The sun had risen, and the world border was in sight. Phil stated that Dream, the apparent Admin of the server, had agreed to let up the border for a few seconds to let Phil and Grian inside. Phil took a rest on a tree, breathing heavily after hours of non-stop flight.

“You alright, Big P?” If Phil could nickname him Grain, Grian would nickname him as well. A smile twinged across Phil’s face.

“Ahh...You sound so much like my youngest, Tommy. He says that to people too. You remind me of him so much. Right down to your red shirt and the aura of pure, unbridled chaos you emit.”

Both men laughed. Grian really enjoyed Phil’s laugh, and despite how giggly and giddy the avian usually was, it had been a few days since he had last heard him laugh. Wilbur’s lack of letters had really spooked him.

“Will you stay?”

“Hmm?”

“In L’Manberg. I mean, it’s closer to your sons.”

Phil shrugged and drank a potion of strength, and stood.

“I might, depending on what happens. If my theory is correct, and Wilbur is going to blow the place up, then I’ll probably stay. Just to help him out and help clean up y’know? Maybe I’ll be able to convince him to come home. Before you got here, I was...really lonely.”

“Well, you won’t be lonely anymore! Since I can’t return home yet, I’ll be your friend so you don’t have to be lonely!”

“Thanks, Grain.”

“You’re welcome, Big P!”

The two rose and started to fly towards the world border. Maybe Grian could make a new home on Dream SMP. The builder already started making plans for an epic build, having a vague idea in his head. However, he would have to inspect the landscapes available to see what his block palette would be and what style his build would be. Grian thought of his mansion back home and wanted to build something similar to remember it.

“Oi! Grain! You there mate?”

Grian shook his head as he was, again, dragged from his daydreams by Phil. They had arrived at the world border. “I’ve sent word to Dream, he should be letting us in soon.”

“Alrighty! What kind of base do you want to build if you stay?”

Phil just shrugged. “Eh. Don’t know just yet. Don’t want to start anything too ambitious, like a Hardcore project.”

Grian kept forgetting that this man held the world record for the longest Hardcore run. Phil was only 5”4 and didn’t look that intimidating. He looked loving and fatherly, and Grian considered Phil to be like a father to him. But the man was a dedicated Hardcore player, and could easily take Grian down in a fight. It scared him, sometimes, about how little he actually knew about Phil.

“Alright, mate, let’s go.” The blue striped border had been removed by the mysterious admin, and the two flew into Dream SMP. Grian felt a buzz from his communicator and pulled it from his pocket.

Unlike in Hermitcraft, when a member joins the server (especially a new member), the entire chat would be flooded with ‘hello!’ messages. However, on the Dream SMP, there were one or two directed at Phil. How peculiar. Phil went silent as they flew over the woods and forest. In the distance, Grian could see what appeared to be a city. That must be L’Manberg. It wasn’t as big or as grand as some builds on Hermitcraft, heck his own base would have taken up over half of the area if he lived there. On a tall pole lay what Grian assumed was the flag of L’Manberg, inky black, with a fiery red arch and X. Interesting design. Phil didn’t go into the city, however, he flew towards the coordinates that Wilbur had written in his letter, his brow furrowed. Fireworks crackled and popped throughout L’Manberg.

Grian landed with Phil, in front of a small tunnel that bore deep into a hill that was just outside the country.

“It’s now or never. Grain, stay behind me.” Phil tucked the letter away and led Grian through the tunnel, and into a compact stone room. Carved into the wall were words. No, not just words. Lyrics.

I heard there was a special place,

where men could go and emancipate.

From the brutality and tyranny of their rulers.

Well, this place was real, you needn’t fret,

With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, fuck Eret.

It’s a very big place, not blown up L’Manberg.

MY L’MANBERG

MY L’MANBERG…

Those lyrics were carved all over the stone walls, and in the middle, was a stone button. In front of that button, was Philza’s eldest son, Wilbur.

Grian had never actually seen Wilbur before, only in an old picture of when Phil, Wilbur, and Phil’s other two sons, Tommy and Technoblade, won MCC 4. In that picture, Wilbur wore a cute yellow sweater with a brown beanie, with a shimmering smile on his face.

The man that stood before them now was not that person. It couldn’t be. Wilbur stood, hunched over a stone button, whispering to himself. He donned a brown trenchcoat and ditched the beanie.

“What are you doing?” Phil asked.

Wilbur turned to face them. His eyes had no emotion in them, his smile no longer shimmered. Standing before them was an insane man.

“I will admit,” Wilbur said. His voice sent a chill down Grian’s spine, “Do you know what this is? What this button is?” Phil’s speculations appeared to be true. Wilbur was trying to destroy L’Manberg.

“Uh huh. I do.” How, how could Phil be so calm?

“Have you heard the song? The song on the walls?” Wilbur’s fingers gently ran over the words ‘MY L’MANBERG’. His eye twitched, “I was just making a big point you know? About how there was a special place, it was a special place. But that's not there anymore.” Wil’s voice lowered to a hush.

“It is there, Wil, it's out there.”

“PHIL I’M ALWAYS SO CLOSE TO PRESSING THIS BUTTON! I’VE BEEN HERE LIKE SEVEN OR EIGHT TIMES--” Voices from above cut Wilbur off. Grian could hear footsteps above them. Wilbur turned his eyes to the stone ceiling and lowered his voice. “Oh they're going to come…I need to block this off.” Wilbur hastily piled blackstone bricks in the doorway, which not only sealed whoever “they” were out, but also sealed Grian, Phil, and Wilbur in.

“Oh Phil...I’ve been here so many times.”

Numerous fireworks exploded outside.

<Tubbo_ went off with a bang due to a firework fired from [Rocket Launcher] by Technoblade>

“Oh they’re fighting, they’re fighting…” WIlbur whispered, sounding tired.

“And you just want to...to blow it all up? You fought so hard for this land, Wilbur, and you just want to...destroy it all?” Phil tried to reason.

“I don’t even know if the button works anymore, Phil, I could press it, and it might--”

“Do you want to risk it? There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

Wilbur seemed to hear him. His breathing got heavier as he returned to that hunched over position over the stone button. What was this place? Nothing serious ever happened on Hermitcraft. There were no seriously high stakes, there were no serious threats, no serious danger. It was all in good fun.

“There...there was a saying, Phil...by, uh, by a traitor. Once part of L’Manberg, don’t know if you ever heard of Eret, but he had a saying.”

Wilbur looked up at Phil. Grian could see the familiar resemblance between the two, they shared emerald green eyes.

“It was never meant to be.” Wilbur whispered that phrase, and pressed the stone button.

#dream smp #hermitcraft #dream smp x Hermitcraft #grian #fic #philza Minecraft #phil #philza #wilbur soot #wilbur #button room #angst #dream smp lore #c!Phil #c!Wilbhr #Insanebur

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jwillowwolf · 3 years

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Magic and Miracles - Prologue

Tag List: @sandersidesbigbang @thomassanderssidesbigbang2021 @theimprobabledreamersworld

First Chapter > | Masterlist

This is a multi-chapter fic I've been working on for the last couple of months as a part of the 2021 Sanders Sides Big Bang. The original idea came from this post by @remy-please-come-back [thanks again for letting me use the idea 💜].

Summary: Ever present, never seen. Feared and admired by all beings. The life that bursts from the earth, the secrets hidden in stone. It dances in the fire’s flames; it gives the wind its mournful tone. Here it is, this is it. Defined yet unexplained. In the depths of the ocean, and of your own mind. In the veins of all creatures, including humankind. For magic is in everything, yet unknown all the same.

For the longest time, Logan wanted to learn magic. So, when he was offered the chance to study it at a new magic school, he decided to follow his dreams. Along the way, however, he'll learn about so much more.

Warning/s: food mention.

Characters: Logan, Emile, Remy, OCs.

Read on AO3

0 | The Underdog's Debut

Ever present, never seen. Feared and admired by all beings.

The life that bursts from the earth, the secrets hidden in stone.

It dances in the fire’s flames; it gives the wind its mournful tone.

Here it is, this is it. Defined yet unexplained.

In the depths of the ocean, and of your own mind.

In the veins of all creatures, including humankind.

For magic is in everything, yet unknown all the same.

Perhaps this was why people found it so intriguing from such a young age. They wanted answers to what magic was, and while they didn’t find what they sought, they did learn how it could be used to their advantage. Spells were created to do anything that their caster’s heart desired. From creating a small orb of light for reading in the night to manipulating a tidal wave that could crash down on your enemies.

Magic was something not easily understood, which was one reason why the Council of Wizards evaluated all potential magic users. They wanted to gage that these young mages could safely use the power they were wielding. If not, then they needed to be properly dealt with before things got out of hand.

This was a good thing, but also not because to learn magic safely you would need someone else to teach you first-hand.

Now that doesn’t seem like much of an obstacle, except the only established wizards were of the nobility, and therefore only worked with nobility. The system was pretty much rigged to make it hopeless for average people to learn and use magic. Or it was until our protagonist came along.

He rose from poverty to royalty, became a hero among heroes, and faced off against one of the greatest threats to humankind that ever existed! But I’m getting ahead of myself -sorry- let's start from the beginning, shall we?

Oh, but where to begin? Ah! We’ll start from his first test with the Council of Wizards when he was only a young lad of 15. It was the beginning of spring, which is when the COW always held the learner’s test. This test evaluated your magical potential and gave the council a heads up on how many new mages there were. Yes, COW, don’t ask me why they went with that acronym.

The ceremony was being held in the grand hall of the palace, and it was open for anyone from the Srednas Kingdom to come and watch. The test itself was rather simple but the festivities that came with it made things feel like a special holiday. Nobility and common folk alike were gathered to watch and see what new wizards would be taking on learning magic. There was even a small market of sorts set outside the palace to take advantage of the crowds and sell foods, drinks, and commemorative merchandise.

Inside, people were everywhere, talking excitedly to one another and trying to find good places to view the proceedings. At the end of the room, there was a dais with two thrones where King Thomas and his husband, Prince Consort Nico, sat to watch. In front of the dais were nine chairs for the COW members, who talked with the royals and amongst themselves. Even they seemed eager for what was about to happen, and yet no one knew truly how monumental today was going to be.

The event had begun the same as any other year. Noble children from across the land showed off whatever three spells they’d learnt for the test. Most were common tricks like lighting candles or making plants grow. A handful showed off with advanced versions of these spells, such as holding the flames in their hands or making entire trees grow. Still, regardless of how many times these spells were cast, the crowd watched in awe with each new user who passed their test.

And then a young man in a simple navy tunic and black trousers stepped forward. He looked to be in his mid-teens, the same as most of the young mages and walked with an air of subtle confidence. He had a slender form and soft features that pronounced his youthful appearance. His hair was raven black, swept neatly to the side, and his eyes were such a dark brown that they seemed almost black.

“Please state your name and title.” Silvia, the eldest council member, said.

“My name is Logan Picani.”

“Title?”

“I don’t have any.”

Silence fell over the hall. “Pardon?”

“I don’t have any titles.”

“How do you not have any titles?”

“I’m not a noble.”

Some people audibly gasped and began whispering conspiratorially to one another.

“Young man, you do understand what this test is, correct?” Allen, another council member, asked with a thinly veiled look of disgust.

“Yes sir, I do. I also know for a fact that there are no rules against my taking the test because of being a commoner.”

Allen frowned and opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Silvia. “I suppose not. Well then, let’s see what you can do.”

Logan took a deep breath and then held up his hand, “Ignyght.”

The tip of his little finger began to glow with golden light. The crowd watched on in silence as he carefully moved his hand to draw the necessary rune with the trail of light that flowed from his finger.

Once the rune was complete, he spoke again. “Solhart.”

The rune turned stark white and then disappeared. For a moment nothing happened, then a small white orb appeared where the rune had previously been floating. This earned a few excited claps from the crowd and an approving nod from two council members. But Logan didn’t stop there.

“Groh.” This time the light from his fingers was bright green. He made a different rune then repeated the sealing word, “Solhart.”

The orb multiplied until nearly fifty of them were floating in a cluster before Logan.

“Stahwynd.” A deep blue light flowed from Logan’s finger as he drew the final rune. “Solhart.”

The orbs burst apart from one another like birds flying off a tree in fear. Some people from the crowd shouted in shock as the balls of light zoomed off in all different directions until finally, they stopped. Now they were floating all around the room above the spectators who gasped as they realized what Logan had done. The hall’s ceiling was pitch black, so the lights looked like stars in the night sky. It was a breath-taking sight that inspired many to cheer and clap for the young mage.

“Alright, please settle down,” Silvia called over the noise before looking at Logan with a thoughtful expression. “Where did you learn this?”

“I taught myself.”

Silvia nodded then turned to talk with her fellow council members in hushed tones. Allen and two others seemed upset, while the rest of the council were neutral if not mildly impressed. After a few minutes, she looked back at Logan with a soft smile.

“Mr Picani, you are officially granted your learner’s license. I hope when we see you again in a few months time, you will once more surprise us all.”

The crowd cheered and Logan nodded before walking away with a look of pride. As he made his way through the crowd, he received congratulations from many strangers. And then he was tackled to the ground by an enthusiastic brown-haired girl.

“You did it! You did it! I knew you could do it!”

“Everleigh, my ribs.” Logan wheezed, causing the girl to release him.

“Oops, sorry. My bad. Is your chest okay?”

“It’s fine.” Both youths got up with smiles on their faces. “I did it.”

“Yep. In a couple of months, you’re going to be an official grand wizard.”

“Considering I just got my learners, I don’t think I’ll reach such a title that quickly.”

“You just created a night sky in the palace ballroom! I think you’re underestimating yourself.”

Logan smiled softly, “Come on, we should head back to the bakery to celebrate.”

Everleigh nodded in agreement and linked their arms so they could walk side by side. As they walked, Everleigh excitedly told Logan about how incredible it had looked from the crowd, and what kind of reactions the people around her had had.

Logan was uncharacteristically grinning by the time they’d reached the bakery. Walking inside only made his smile widen as the smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries filled his senses. It was after all the smell of home, so of course, it made him feel warm and welcomed. His father, Emile Picani, was standing by the counter helping an elderly customer when Logan and Everleigh walked in.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Oh, I should be the one thanking you, Mrs Goldstone. The brownie recipe you gave me has become a bestseller.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Have a nice day dear.”

“To you as well, ma’am. Oh, Logan, Everleigh, you’re back. And smiling,” Emile gasped, “did you get it?”

“He’s a wizard!” Everleigh dramatically announced.

“Not yet, I still need to finish the second test in a couple of months. I do have a learners’ license though.”

“Well, I think this calls for some celebratory tarts,” Emile said, ushering both youths into the back of the shop where the Picani’s sitting room/kitchen was located. “I’m proud of you logan. That hard work really paid off.”

“Speaking of hard work, you are going to take a break, right?” Everleigh asked.

Logan looked away from her sheepishly. “Well…”

“Come on, Lo. You’ve been working hard non-stop for months.”

“Yeah, kid, you work with me in the bakery all day, then study well into the night. And don’t think I haven’t seen you pull an all-nighter here and there.” Emile chastised.

It was true that Logan had worked long hard to get to where he was. it wasn’t exactly a simple task when books on magic were hard to find, and what knowledge they had was even harder to grasp. Figuring out pronunciation for the initiation/sealing words and learning to keep his hand steady as he drew the runes.

It had taken him many long nights of studying by candlelight to figure out the spells he’d performed. But with Everleigh’s library apprenticeship and his own persistent nature, he’d managed to learn a good deal about the basics. And now it was paying off. He officially had a learner’s license and would get a chance to become a genuine wizard.

Then he could use magic to help so many of the villagers who couldn’t afford the high-priced assistance of other magicians. Medicinal potions? Enchanted prosthetics? Transition spells? He would be able to give all this and more at prices his peers could afford.

Logan knew that what he was doing seemed near impossible, but he was going to do it or die trying! …okay, so maybe Emile and Everleigh were valid in their concern for his health, but this was his best and only way to study magic.

Before Logan could argue this, however, a stranger walked into the bakery. He was tall and slender, with a bronze tan and confident bearing. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a clean white tunic, black trousers, and dark brown riding boots. His short curly hair was the same dark brown shade as the boots, and his eyes were hidden by black tinted glasses.

“New customer, how do you how do?”

The stranger smiled. “Hey there, gorgeous. Sorry but I’m not a customer today. Is this where Logan Picani lives?”

“Yes, that’s my son.”

“Son? No offence honey but you look too young and handsome to be a dad.”

“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” Logan asked, taking over the conversation for his blushing father.

“Ah, yeah, I’m here to offer you a very special opportunity on behalf of the crown prince.”

Logan and Emile gaped. “The crown prince?”

The stranger nodded. “My name is Remy Animosni, and on behalf of his highness, I’m here to extend an exclusive invitation to the Srednas Magic School.”

Logan frowned. “I wasn’t aware that there was a magic school here in Srednas.”

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t, not until now anyway. It’s something that the prince arranged to start this year with a few students to show how good it could be to the council. You particularly caught his interest today with your starry spellcasting, hence the personal invite. You would learn alongside six other students under me about everything there is to know concerning magic, from the full basics of spells to how you can modify your own enchantments.”

“That sounds incredible,” Emile said.

Remy nodded. “Yep, and not only that but you will be given your own room at the school and anything you may need or want during your stay will be provided by us, free of charge. The location of the school is just an hour out of town, so you could visit home on weekends if you desired. So how about it, kid?”

Logan was gobsmacked. The crown prince had not only seen him but was impressed enough to send an invitation to learn magic at a special new magic school.

“Wait, what do I have to do for the prince in return?”

“Absolutely nothing. The offer is completely free of any fees or deceptive dealings. I promise. The prince even sent this with me to make sure you could have physical proof if so desired.” Remy stated, producing a scroll from inside his jacket.

Emile and Logan both looked over the document and found no problems. It was a straightforward invitation for Logan to study magic at the prince’s new school, with promises to provide anything he could need while he was living at said school, and nothing more. The father and son shared a thoughtful glance. It was definitely an opportunity.

Emile smiled. “Do it.”

“Really? You think I should accept?”

“A chance like this only comes around once, and I can always hire someone if I need the help. Follow your dreams kiddo.” Emile said with an encouraging smile.

Logan bit his lip as he considered things. He really hadn’t thought today could get any better, then this happened. He was worried about leaving his dad, but Emile had told him to take this chance. And he was right about this being a once in a lifetime opportunity. Besides, Remy had said he could still visit the town on the weekends…

“Okay. I accept.”

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask. [Also, here's a link to chapter 1]

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

#sanderssides #sander sides #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #ts logan sanders #ts logan #remy sanders #emile picani #fantasy au #Thomas Sanders Sides Big Bang 2021 #food mention tw

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naerysthelonesome · 3 years

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Time spent together

Just a bunch of 3am coffee-induced Litpollo fics (they’re all related)

Part 1

College AU

Lit (Lityerses. Poor boy) is staring at Apollo, the tall, tan, lean but muscular, paragon of beauty with the most beautifully sculpted face I’ve ever seen (And believe me I’ve seen plenty), who’s currently shooting hoops in the basketball court. Off to the side, giving him pointers he does not need, is the smart-ass, Annabeth Chase. All right! Maybe I’m being a little harsh, but I’m really only here to talk about Lit and Apollo.

Oh look! Apollo’s attempting a backward jump shot.

Whatever. I’m sure he succeeds. The boy just cannot miss.

Let’s get back to Lit, shall we?

Of course. OF COURSE the angsty gay boy, with absolutely no social skills, falls for the gorgeous jock with a reputation for dazzling smiles, and leaving behind a trail of broken hearts.

May they can both bond over having the two most ridiculous names on campus.

If only I could tell Lit he looks ridiculous with his jaw hanging open like that. If only I could tell him that his being distracted by Apollo has put him in the path of that idiot Percy and his skateboard. Alas, I am only the narrator.

Percy crashes right into Lit, and they both tumble onto the ground like the pin-heads they are.

At least that caught the attention of the two blondes that caused this. They both jog over, Apollo letting out a short bark of laughter and Annabeth looking slightly concerned.

“Y’all okay?” the boy asks, standing over the two dark-haired dummies, shining like an angel and looking more picturesque than ever with the sun behind him.

“I- uh- Yeah”, Lit sputters. Of course he sputters. It’s quite understandable, honestly. At least he accepts the thinly veined, corded arm Apollo’s graciously reached out toward him.

“Percy! How many times have I told you to please watch where you’re going?” Annabeth asks exasperatedly. Percy does have quite a hit list.

“How can I look at anything but you, when you make it a point to look as gorgeous as that”, he says cheesily, gesturing up at her from the ground.

That draws a reluctant grin out of the girl.

“Oh shut up Perce!” she say, then turns to Lit, NOT graciously reaching an arm out to Percy.

“Sorry about that. My boyfriend’s a ditz”

“Yeah sorry”, Percy says standing up and grinning, “My girlfriend’s way to distracting for me not to be”.

I’m gonna throw up. Or at least I would, if I had a physical body.

“You are okay though, right?” Percy says to poor Lit, who’s been subjected to this disgusting gooeyness.

“Oh. Yeah yeah”, He says, now brushing gravel off his pants, “All good here”.

Annabeth mumbles something to Percy about getting late to class and they rush off. I really couldn’t care less.

Except.

This leaves Lit alone with Apollo.

Finally. They need to start talking. Like NOW. I can’t handle them throwing more furtive glances toward each other, and neither of the oblivious oglers picking up on any of it. IT’S BEEN TORTURE. (I should know. I’ve been tortured before.

“Oh! But how, Great narrator?!” you ask, “If you have no body?”

Well if you had any idea of the rules of etiquette, you’d know that that’s an incredibly rude question to ask. Therefore, we will be moving on)

Oh My God (not that I have one)! They’re talking! Now look what you’ve made me do. I’ve missed part of their conversation!

“Of course I like literature”, Lit says with a scoff, as if it’s obvious.

“All right all right”, Apollo relents, and then after a pause, “Can I walk you to class at least?”

“Oh” Is all the Lit the love-struck fool can say.

“Oh come on”, the golden boy say, grabbing Lit by the arm and hauling him in the direction of the west wing.

“Wait dumbass. I gotta get my books first!” he says pulling away from Apollo.

He runs a hand through his curls, and a blush creeps up Apollo’s slender neck. Of course, Lit doesn’t notice. It’s like they’re trying not to see the tell-tale signs of fist love!

“Just wait here a second, and I’ll fetch them”, Lit says and dashes away without waiting for a response.

Apollo’s hands find their way into his pockets, as he schools his face into bearing a nonchalant expression. Oy.

There’s students milling about, gossiping and trading notes. It’s a fine summer morning. The wind is whistling through the big birch tree, and blowing through the hair of the two girls kissing under it. Oh look! There’s a lone grasshopper…

Well this is boring. How do other narrators do it? Where on Earth is Lit?!

Ah finally. Here he comes, three large books in his arms. The collar of his shirt is wet, and his face looks considerably less splotchy. Well that explains why he took so long.

“Three books? For English lit?” Apollo asks, his arms completely devoid of books, or any other classroom material.

“I get bored”, Lit shrugs as if that explains everything.

So English lit must’ve been what they were discussing before. Unless they were exchanging famous quotes of love and desire from popular classics, which I highly doubt, that was a boring fist conversation.

Ah well. They can make up for it later.

Our journey through the green and into the classroom is entirely uneventful. I would’ve thought Apollo, being the confident social butterfly he is, would have at least struck up a conversation with Lit, but apparently feelings get in the way of such things.

How tiresome.

“Settle down. Settle down”, the woman at the front of the class says, sharply rapping her knuckles against the desk. Her name escapes me…

Anyway, Lit and Apollo make their way to seats as far away from each other as they can manage, both looking slightly disappointed when the other doesn’t stop them. Dorks.

“Now as I mentioned last week, I will be assigning each of you a project partner. I expect you to put in equal effort and come up with creative and suitably appropriate papers”, Ms. Teach says, picking up a list of names. No, that’s not her real name. I wish it was. It would’ve been suitably appropriate.

She rattles off some names. Someone complains. She patiently listens to their complaint and comes back with a refusal. The student angrily flops into his seat, waking up the peacefully snoring person beside him. They glare at him, then at the class and Ms. Rap-knuckles. No one pays them any mind.

Lit listens intently and Apollo pretends not to. There’s a bee merrily buzzing around the classroom. It bangs against a window, then bangs itself against the window again. Interesting. I think I need coffee. I can’t drink any but it sure does smell good…

“Apollo and Lityerses”.

Oh. Now this is a great turn of events!

“Seems fitting”, Ms. Good-at-student-pairing says, with a slight smirk.

Lit looks surprised and angry all at once, his face flushed. Apollo looks like he’s trying really hard not to care, but his mouth is threatening to betray him and reveal his, already quite clear, happiness.

The teacher continues to pair off students, as Lit stares furiously at his book, as if he’s trying to ignite the pages. Apollo looks at his nails, then at Lit, then back at his nails.

A half hour later the bell, blessedly, rings. Lit’s hurriedly making his way to the door.

But why?? He’s going to have to spend time with Apollo anyway!

Oh good, Apollo’s caught his arm.

“Hey we should talk about the project”, he says.

“What’s there to talk about?” Lit replies.

Um… is his crush’s presence causing his brain to malfunction?? I wouldn’t really be surprised if that were the case, consider that his crush is the magnificent Apollo.

“You know… Where we’re gonna do the project, what topic we’re going to pick, et cetera”, the blond says slowly, as if he’s worried about the same thing.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it. You go shoot hopes, or dazzle people, or whatever it is you do, and I’ll finish the project. I’m not great at working with people anyway. You’ll get your credit”.

Apollo looks high-key offended for a second, but then laughs.

“Is that all you think of me Lit?” he says, “That I’m just some dumb blond jock trope?”

“‘Mythological retellings’ is one of my favorite topics to read about, so that’s the one we’re choosing for our project”, Apollo continues decidedly.

“What? You don’t get to pick the topic by yourself”, Lit snaps at him.

“Why not? What’s wrong with it? Too challenging for you?” Apollo says, smirk gracing his perfect lips.

Everybody here who knows Lit knows he can’t help but rise to a challenge. Now the topic’s practically set in stone.

“Of course not.” Lit says, resentful but stubborn, “Fine then. When do we begin?”

Apollo smiles wide this time, and I can see the blush creeping up Lit’s neck.

“Meet me at the coffee shop just off campus. 3p.m. Right after class”.

#litpollo #litpollo fanfiction #lityerses #apollo #toa apollo #toa #trials of apollo #unreliable narrator #percabeth #just a tiny little bit

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meterokinesis · 3 years

Text

How It Feels to Have a Heartbeat

Read it on AO3!

Part of the ATLA Big Bang 2020! I’ll be rbing art for this fic as well.

Summary: From the time he was a child, Sokka has seen ghosts. After years of dejection, he's learned to keep his observations to himself. This works fine until their mother is killed at the hands of a Fire Nation soldier and Sokka begins to see Kya everywhere, always lingering next to Katara. After being thrust into the Avatar's mission, Sokka must grapple with his abilities on a large scale.

(Or, five times Sokka saw ghosts and one time he didn't.)

Sokka was three years old the first time he saw a ghost.

His grandfather, his father’s father that is, had died a few weeks before. Sokka’s parents had explained that he was now in the Spirit World, where he would watch over them. That didn’t explain why Ataatattiaq lingered by their doorway the day after he was buried, but Sokka noticed how he followed Dad around during his first few days as chief, and how he smiled at Hakoda’s good work. Two weeks later Attatattiaq was gone, but Sokka still felt him in the way Dad smiled and performed his duties as chief. He felt his grandfather in the pride Hakota had for his children too.

________________

The ghosts didn’t stop after that.

Sokka became used to seeing them, and by the time he was ten it wasn’t unusual to occasionally see the spirits of the recently passed spending a few extra days with their loved ones before they moved on to the Spirit World. He’d even worked out general rules for how they acted:

1) They can’t wander around however they want. They have to be attached to someone or something—like a loved one or their most prized possession. 2) They can’t speak. Or at least, they can’t speak to Sokka. 3) They can touch things, but the physical world won’t feel it. 4) They’ll stay as long as they need to, and no longer.

Sokka never told anyone about the ghosts because he didn’t need to. Gram Gram handled all the spiritual goings-on in the Southern Water Tribe, and she always told him to stop making up stories. So he did. It was more fun to have a secret, anyway.

________________

Everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.

Well, to be more precise, everything changed when the Fire Nation killed his mom.

He remembered the grey, sooty snow that littered the pristine white hills of the South Pole. He remembered how Katara cried when she told him and Dad. He remembered running home, only to be kept outside to take care of Katara while his father tended to their mother. He remembered Hakoda telling them that Kya was gone. Not dead, gone. And he remembered the chill in the air as they buried her, the only casualty. And he remembered seeing her again.

The night Sokka buried his mother, he tossed and turned. The polar leopard pelt he slept on was made of needles, irritating him with every movement. Too exhausted to sleep, he opened his eyes to a faint blue glow emanating from the corner of the room.

Sokka moved his head just slightly, the figure quickly coming into sight. There was Kya, hand sweeping over Katara’s hair the way she used to when they were toddlers and refused to go to sleep. She looked at his sister with this mixture of indescribable warmth and love and sacrifice, the kind Gram Gram would tell stories about on the coldest nights of the year. Kya didn’t look up, though Sokka stayed awake until dawn began to break. The entire night he watched her while she watched Katara, their own quiet vigil.

Kya wasn’t there every day, but Sokka got used to her presence. She watched as Katara learned to sew, her face never losing its eternal pride—even when Katara dropped a stitch. She smiled as Katara progressed in her waterbending. She held her daughter when Hakoda left for the war. Sokka swore he even saw her cry the first time Katara healed someone.

She never looked at Sokka, but that was okay. Katara needed it more.

________________

When Sokka and Katara found Aang, she kept her distance. Instead of staying a few feet away from Katara, she now hovered on the edges of Sokka’s vision, a barely-visible gleam of blue. That should have been the first clue that something was wrong with Aang, an early hint to exile him before he got them all killed.

Sokka should have known that danger follows the Avatar wherever he goes.

Kya flickered in front of Sokka, her edges fuzzy in a way he’d never seen them before. Katara was nowhere to be seen.

Sokka pushed himself to a standing position, trying to approach his mother. In five years, this was the first time she’d ever reached out for him, the first time she’d looked away from Katara. Kya pointed, and in the distance Sokka saw the outline of the abandoned Fire Nation battleship.

He was running before the flare even fired.

When Katara and Aang came back, he had already made up his mind. Get the Air Nomad out of his tribe, make sure Katara was okay, and prepare for war. As he banished Aang, he saw Kya run her hand over Katara’s hair just like always. She didn’t glance his way.

When the Fire Nation attacked for the second time, Sokka was sure of one thing: he would defend his tribe or die trying. His war paint was smooth and wet on his face, a feeling he by now knew all too well, but he refused to let it show. Fifteen was probably too young to die, but it was worth it for Katara. He would protect her, just like he always had.

He understood Kya. Though he and Katara fought on an almost daily basis, he couldn’t imagine letting someone hurt her. At least, not while he was alive.

________________

As Sokka clung to Aang—the Avatar’s—giant sky bison, he tried to hold his head high. He had done it, or at least part of it. Katara was safe, the village was safe, and now Katara could become a waterbending master—just as Mom had wanted it. He tried to ignore how Kya sat in the corner of Appa’s saddle, the deepest sadness he’d ever seen in her blue eyes. He’d done the best he could.

Maybe one day he’d be able to explain it to her.

________________

The Southern Air Temple was a graveyard.

This wasn’t a surprise, of course. No one had seen Airbenders in a century, and any who had managed to survive the Fire Nation’s attacks were clever enough to know that living at an Air Temple was a death wish. But Aang still believed, so Sokka said nothing.

As Appa set down at the temple, all Sokka could see were ghosts. Old men, young boys, those with arrows and those without. They milled about, playing games and pulling pranks. One, an arrowless boy who looked about Katara’s age, played hide and seek with a group of younger kids. They were all so young.

Sokka watched the game unfold, and after about ten minutes a pattern seemed to emerge. The boys would play for a few minutes, then reset. They always went to the same hiding spots, and the same kids were always found. These children—ghosts, they were ghosts—were trapped in an endless loop of playtime. An eternity of childhood. Sokka couldn’t remember what that felt like.

He watched in silence for another few moments, wondering what it was like to grow up playing for fun and not for war. Sokka had known since the day he was born that one day he’d be a warrior. It was inevitable, a fact of the universe. The sky was blue, polar orcas ate turtle seals, and Sokka was made for battle. It was nice, in a way, knowing what your path was from birth. Then the Avatar had to screw it all up.

The day went on. Aang and Sokka played airball. Sokka got thrown into a wall. He and Katara argued over whether to tell Aang about the Fire Nation helmet. Sokka got buried in snow. The usual.

Sokka shook the snow off him for the fourth time that week and followed Aang and Katara toward the temple. The ghosts were denser here, and older as well. Where the younger boys had no arrows, these ghosts did. They were dressed in monk clothes as well, and many sported beards. They milled around, a few pulling off to the side to speak in small groups. Sokka did his best to avoid them, but as they got closer to the sanctuary, it was impossible. A few spirits passed through Sokka, and though he didn’t feel anything, he shivered.

Aang opened the sanctuary, and the crush of spirits was gone. There was nothing, except for Aang and the soft glow he gave off. This was almost worse than the overwhelming crowd, sort of like the second after coming inside while a snowstorm rages. After feeling everything, it was disorienting to feel nothing at all. Sokka lingered near the door, half in the quiet and half out of it. A foot in both worlds, just like him.

When Aang finished talking with his past lives, Sokka was the first one outside. Aang gave off an uncomfortable sort of glow, as if his spirit multiplied and divided itself when the occasion arose. He waxed and waned like the moon, and Sokka didn’t know what to do with that. Aang didn’t fit into the rules, didn’t fit into his plan. He liked the kid, sure, but something about him felt wrong.

His stomach clawed at itself, and for the third time that day Sokka remembered how little he’d had to eat. Unlike Aang, not everyone could live on plants alone.

WHRRRRRR.

Sokka glanced at Aang for confirmation, but deep down he knew. The Fire Nation had tracked them, and they had the disadvantage. He reached back and his fingers closed on his club, ready to attack. He’d join these spirits of people long-dead, wandering through cold empty halls.

Instead, an animal hopped out.

“How about we eat it?” Sokka blurted out, his stomach rumbling in agreement. Aang glared at him, then picked across the temple, following the rodent—was it a rodent? Or maybe a monkey?—down a stone path. Maybe they could eat it later.

The lemur—he had decided it was a lemur—was constantly just out of reach, and quick, light-footed Aang reached the destination first.

“Hey, did you find th-” Sokka started as the structure came into view, but cut himself off.

By the time Sokka stepped into the tent, Aang was on the floor, a spirit gently rubbing circles on his back. A spirit that looked a lot like the statue near the entrance.

“Hey buddy,” Sokka said, voice hushed, “I was kidding about eating the lemur.” Aang didn’t respond, and only then did the various masses cluttered near the walls begin to take shape. Specifically, they were pieces of Fire Nation armor. Broadly, they were tokens of death. He reached out to touch Aang, maybe to comfort him the way he used to comfort Katara.

Instead, Aang began to rise, his eyes and tattoos a blinding white. Sokka gasped and reeled backward, the cold packed dirt leaving scuffs on his palms. The wind picked up, whipping Sokka around like a rag doll. Aang was both living and not, a ghost in a human’s body and a person with a spirit’s abilities. He was hard to look at, and even harder to breathe around. For a twelve year old, his soul felt centuries old. Maybe it was the Avatar thing, but part of it just felt like Aang.

Sokka clung to the stone tiles of the temple, scrabbling for a secure hold. If he really wanted to, Aang could throw him off the mountain without a second thought. But he wouldn’t… right?

Katara materialized in the corner of Sokka’s vision, her arm thrown over her face as a shield against the wind. She screamed something inaudible to him, but when he opened his mouth to respond it was as if the breath was stolen from his lungs.

Everything went black at the edges as Sokka tried to regain oxygen, sputtering and coughing as he gripped the stone tiles.

Katara pulled at the back of his shirt, using him as a tether. In his ear, she screamed, “What’s happening?”

“He found out Gyatso died,” Sokka yelled back, pushing himself up on wobbly legs. Blindly, he fumbled for Katara’s hand, the way that Southern Water Tribe kids had been taught to do in times of danger. When things were rough, grab a buddy. Sokka was lucky enough to have a built-in one.

“Aang!” Katara began, shouting over the howl of the wind. “This isn’t you!”

Aang glowed in response, but did not speak.

“I know how you must feel. I lost my mother to the Fire Nation. But just because you lose a part of your family doesn’t mean you lose all of it! Sokka and you and I are our own family now. But you have to calm down, it’s not safe!”

Sokka bit back a retort about how both of them lost a mother, instead holding Katara up as the wind tore at her hair.

The glow dimmed as Aang sank back to the ground and the windstorm quieted. After a minute or two, it was just the three of them. Katara stumbled toward Aang to wrap him in a hug, and Sokka followed a second later. He hesitated on the edge of the group before deciding to clap Aang on the shoulder the way he’d seen the men in his village do.

“Aang?” Sokka croaked, his voice still raw. “Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean they aren’t still with us. They’re looking down at us, somewhere. Gyatso is probably so proud of you.”

Aang nodded silently, then forced himself to his feet. Katara followed close behind, ready to catch him if he should fall. Sokka lingered for a second, and he was rewarded with the blue spectre of Monk Gyatso blinking into reality beside him.

Gyatso gazed after Aang and Katara in silence, a soft smile on his face. Then, he turned to Sokka and gave a shallow bow, which Sokka quickly returned. Gyatso winked, and then he was gone, the only trace of him a light breeze ruffling Sokka’s hair.

Sokka grinned to himself, then sprinted after the others.

“Hey, so are we going to get something to eat or what?”

________________

Something about Yue was special.

It wasn’t just that she was pretty, because Suki had been pretty too.Yue was ethereal, the kind of girl people wrote poems about. Something about her drew him in, but he couldn’t name what. Yue seemed to contain multitudes, an ocean so deep that Sokka would never reach the bottom. But he was fine with drowning while he tried.

Yue seemed most at home under the moonlight. It made her brighter somehow, like she shined from the inside out. Sokka had never known someone like that, as far as he knew, but she seemed familiar.

The Northern Water Tribe wasn’t anything close to what Sokka had expected. Katara fumed whenever she came home from healing lessons, and Kya glared at Pakku when he came close, as if he had somehow slighted her. Maybe he had—Sokka didn’t pretend to know anything about ghost rivalries.

Speaking of rivalries, he hated how the boys in the village looked at Yue, like she was a piece of seal jerky or something. He heard Hahn talking about the power he’d have once they were married, about how pretty she was. Those things were true, of course, but she was so much more than that. She was funny, and kind, and smarter than anyone gave her credit for. It took everything in him not to tell her so each time he saw her.

Quick jokes turned to conversations turned to secret meetings. On nights when the village was silent and the moon was bright, the pair sat under the stars and talked about everything they could think of. Yue, while isolated, had been taught by the finest tutors. She was a master of philosophy and storytelling, and once confessed to Sokka that if she wasn’t a princess—if she wasn’t bound by duty to be nothing more than a pretty doll made of snow and glass—that she would have liked to see the world, to perhaps go to the mythic spirit library. In return, Sokka shared his adventures, recounting battles and run-ins with the Fire Nation. Most of all, he told her about home.

On one such night, he finally confessed, something he had never done before.

“I have something to tell you, but you have to keep it a secret,” he blurted out in the middle of a discussion about snow rat legends.

Yue leveled him a look, her gaze probably kinder than he deserved.

“Who will I tell? My mother? Hahn? The moon?” It was a jest, but she was earnest. Her gloved hand crept over top of his, holding it in place. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

Sokka nodded, swallowing hard. “This is going to sound strange, maybe even like I’m lying, but I’m not. This is the truth, I swear on my Gram Gram’s grave. Well, she’s not dead yet but you get the point…” he rambled.

“I see ghosts. Or spirits, I guess you could call them? Either way, I see them. A lot. Like my mom. And my grandfather, for a little while. And all the Airbenders. They don’t talk or anything, but they’re there. And I know it doesn’t make sense because y’know, science, but I’m not crazy an-”

“Sokka.” She cut him off, leaning in. “I believe you.”

He blinked back, startled. Then he blinked again.

“You do?”

“I do.” She relaxed back against the hard-packed snow wall of the building behind them. “There are much stranger things in this world than a boy who sees spirits. Maybe that’s how you found Avatar Aang—your spiritual connection.”

This was not how he had expected this conversation to go by any means. Screaming or horror he had prepared for, but not Yue’s easy fascination.

She was still talking, but he hadn’t caught most of it.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked meekly, trying to feign a smile.

“Tell me about them!” She responded, her face bright. “I want to hear all about the spirits you’ve seen.”

“Ah.” Suddenly his mouth was drier than the desert, like he had just drunk seawater. “Well, the first one was my granddad. He disappeared after a few weeks, after my dad took over as chief. Then there were a few more, like people who went out for hunts and didn’t come back. I’d see them wandering through the village and realize that they’d died out there. Those ones were particularly sad, because I didn’t really understand death yet. I was a little kid, y’know? It took a few times before I started to recognize who was a homecoming warrior and who was just a ghost.” Yue nodded sagely, patting his hand comfortingly.

“Then my mom was killed when I was ten. Katara took it pretty hard, she was the one to find her. Mom hangs around more often than not, keeping an eye on her. She doesn’t really interact with me, just Katara. I think that’s fine. We can both protect her.” He peeled his gaze from their intertwined fingers up towards Yue’s face. The way she looked at him made his heart ache. Her other hand came up to cup his face, and in this barren, frigid place she was so incredibly warm.

He leaned forward, expecting a kiss, but she remained where she was.

“You are spectacular, Sokka. I cannot wait to see who you become.”

A second confession caught in his throat, but it died as he took in the way she looked at him. Instead, he smiled. This could be enough.

“Thank you, Princess.” That’s right, Princess. Not only that, but a princess who was betrothed to someone else.

Yet still, that night when he crawled into his camp roll, he couldn’t help but smile. What had once been a shadowy weight on his shoulders was now a gentle secret held between Sokka, Yue, and the moon.

________________

The clandestine meetings had only grown from there. They rode on Appa and went on long walks, ever the picture of North-South friendship. But at night, they’d sneak out to the walls of the city to have the things never afforded to them. Sokka’s childhood, or at least his adolescence, had been built on war games and paranoia. Yue’s had been similarly solitary. As the only daughter of the chief, her experiences with her peers had been limited to formal dinners and suitors vying for her hand.

In a way, things had only gotten better since Sokka told her about his spirit-sight. They were bound by something neither could explain and did not particularly care to attempt to.

Occasionally, these meetings resulted in acting as juvenile as possible, other times they’d sit and have serious discussions until the sun began to rise over the horizon. This was both of those.

Sokka shushed Yue’s giggles as he dropped a snowball off the top of the wall, ducking back down as it landed on the head of the sleeping guard below. A glove slapped over his mouth did a valiant effort of suppressing his laughter, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her doing the same. Could Hahn do this, make her laugh like she had never seen joy before? He doubted it. He doubted Hahn would ever do anything that would make him worthy of Yue’s attention, much less her hand in marriage.

“You’re looking at me like that again,” she murmured, the mirth gone from her voice.

“Like what?” Sokka asked incredulously, but deep down he knew.

“Like you love me,” she said simply, her gaze not wavering.

Sokka’s heart plummeted to his stomach, but gallantly he responded in a wobbly voice, “And what if I do?”

Yue smiled as if that was the saddest thing she had ever heard.

“I’m betrothed to Hahn, Sokka. I need to do this, for my people. It’s my duty, just as protecting your tribe is yours.”

Once, Sokka had watched as an ice shelf plummeted into the sea after a particularly warm summer. It had been the loudest sound he’d ever heard, a gut-wrenching, booming, cracking noise. Now, the sound of his heart splintering had beaten it out.

“You’re not marrying your people, you’re marrying Hahn. Hahn, who doesn’t care about you at all. Not the way I do.” He grasped her hands tight, holding on for dear life. “No, Sokka. This is how it has to be,” she said wetly, and it was only then that he realized she was crying. “You have to let me go.”

He nodded numbly and released her hands, but did not stand. She looked at him through tear-tipped eyelashes, and a beat of hesitation filled the air. Yue leaned in and placed a single kiss on his cheek, then rose from their secluded spot and walked into the night. Sokka sat there, slumped against the wall. He wondered if broken hearts had ghosts too.

________________

The achingly quiet peace of the Northern Water Tribe didn’t last long, but he hadn’t been naive enough to think it would. It seemed as if no matter what, the Fire Nation would always come through to destroy it all again.

He butted heads with Hahn, to no one’s surprise, so Chief Arnook had assigned him as Yue’s bodyguard. It took everything in him to tamp down the little flutter his heart had made. She had made it clear that no matter how she felt, she would marry Hahn. And Sokka had to deal with that, the way he had dealt with all of the other little heartbreaks.

Grey snow fell over the Tribe like an omen of doom. Fear twisted in Sokka’s gut, and it took everything in him not to immediately abscond with Yue to somewhere that the Fire Nation would never reach, if such a place existed. But that wasn’t his job, and it wasn’t what Yue wanted.

The next day flew by in a flurry of movement. The Fire Nation attacked, then stopped, then began again. Katara and Aang were struggling to hone their waterbending in time for battle. The Northern Water Tribe troops clearly knew as little about their enemy as the Fire Nation knew about them, and Sokka, ever the strategist, could not see an outcome where they would make it out alive.

It all came down to Yue, as many things did. The Spirit Oasis was beautiful, a spot of tropical warmth in the arctic desert. Unfortunately, the sheer energy of it was overwhelming. There was so much there, a quality Sokka couldn’t hope to quantify. It was like how the iceberg felt, magnified by a hundred. It seemed that Kya agreed, because she lingered outside with him. His mother’s blue-ish figure remained just out of reach, but if he tried to forget that she’s dead, she could almost be real. Almost.

Yue burst out of the Oasis, panting.

“The Avatar’s floating and glowing and Katara says it’ll be fine but we need to go get help and—”

“Woah, woah, woah, catch your breath. He’s in the Avatar state. We can go get Appa, but Aang can take care of himself,” Sokka reassured her, leading her away from the Oasis and toward the city. Kya watched reproachfully from outside the Oasis, refusing to leave Katara. That was fine, at least she’d have one of them.

Sokka doesn’t worry until he sees Kya waiting next to Appa, her mouth pinched in the way it always got when she had bad news. Even after six years, Sokka had that look seared into his memory.

Katara.

He grabbed Yue’s hand and pulled her into Appa, then raced back to the Oasis. He had already lost his parents to the Fire Nation, albeit in very different ways. He refused to lose his sister too.

Of course, because this was Sokka’s life and very few things can ever go the way they were meant to, Aang got kidnapped. In the middle of a siege. By the Fire Nation. Lovely. At least Katara was okay. If anything happened to her… well, Sokka wasn’t sure what he’d do. Nothing good, no doubt.

This is how Sokka ended up driving a Flying Bison with a saddle full of the Avatar, his kid sister, the girl he loved but could not have, and the unconscious disgraced prince of the Fire Nation.

Then, as if the night could not get any worse, the moon turned blood red. Of course it did.

Yue slumped against Sokka, her eyelids going slack. His heart pounded in his ears. Something, that ethereal ineffable quality that Yue had always possessed was gone now, disappeared into thin air.

“Something’s wrong with Yue,” he hissed, only to find Aang already nodding.

Yue coughed weakly, and Sokka handed the reins off to Katara in order to cradle Yue’s head in his lap.

“I was very sick as a baby,” she began quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the howl of the wind. “I didn’t cry or even open my eyes, and they said that I wouldn’t live very long. My father had seen a vision when I was born of me as the Moon Spirit, so he prayed to Tui every day for my recovery. He placed me in the Oasis on a full moon, and Tui healed me by giving me a little piece of her life force.”

Sokka’s mouth dropped open, but he bit his lip to keep himself from saying anything. So this was what had been different about Yue, in addition to everything else he liked about her. She had been touched by spirits, just as he had. Twin flames of a living spirit and a boy who saw ghosts.

Wordlessly, Katara steered them toward the Oasis. Sokka saw a man in Fire Nation armor below, holding a large white fish above his head. Yue gasped, and tears began to run down her cheeks. Sokka silently wiped them away.

Aang and Katara climbed onto the snow when they landed, but Sokka remained with Yue. Katara and Aang could save the day with their bending, but Sokka would always save the people.

Everyone was yelling and Sokka clung to Yue, his boomerang in his free hand. He could do this small thing, he could save her. He had to.

Sokka had forgotten that, in the stories, spirits moved on when they had to. No sooner and no later. He was but an observer, a stowaway audience to the wheel of time.

________________

Sokka lowered Yue next to the pool, but his hand still clung to hers.

“Sokka,” she began, not unkindly. “You have to let me go.”

“No,” he pleaded, squeezing tighter.

“Yes,” she murmured, and before he could speak, she was pressing her lips to his. Her hand came up to cup his face, just like it had all those nights before, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek. He couldn’t tell whether it was hers or his.

She turned to touch the white fish, and Sokka watched as her spirit flowed out of her and into it. Someone—the old man who had been watching—placed it back in the water. Sokka cradled her body, even though he knew she wasn’t Yue anymore.

Katara and Aang hung back, but Sokka tipped up his head to see Yue floating over the pool. She looked like a goddess or something in a white flowing robe. Just like all the other ghosts, she looked painfully real.

She floated down to him and touched her forehead to his. Yue mouthed something, but he couldn’t hear her. She never knew the rules, how could she? He’d never gotten the chance to tell her. Her dainty hands tipped his chin toward hers and she kissed him, but all he felt was air. It was the thought that counted.

And then she was gone, filtering away like moonlight through the clouds. Instinctively, he squeezed where she once was, but there was nothing but air.

Sokka slumped forward, and out of the corner of his vision, he saw a hand touch his shoulder. He turned, expecting to see Katara or even Aang, but instead there was Kya. She smoothed a hand over his wolf tail and he could see her mouth the words to the old lullaby she used to sing to them when they were young.

And all at once, Sokka began to cry.

________________

There was a tea shop in the middle ring that Aang liked, which meant that Sokka was usually the one who had to get everyone’s orders. He didn’t mind so much; the old man who ran it was nice and gave him advice. None of it really made sense, but Sokka appreciated it nonetheless.

The only downside of this was the ghost that lingered in the shop. It was silent, like all ghosts, but it had this quiet energy about it. Him — it was a him. Sokka had taken to calling him “Topknot Man,” in honor of his topknot. It was vaguely Fire Nation, but it wasn’t as if Sokka could ask about it. What would he say? There’s a spirit of a young man who looks like he could be Fire Nation sitting in your shop all the time. What gives? He wasn’t an idiot.

The ghost was sitting by the window today, watching the people pass by with a smile. The old man—Mushu—was talking a mile a minute. His son or nephew or something was adjusting well. He’d had a date and it hadn’t been terrible, all that jazz. Sokka nodded along, but he was watching the ghost instead.

“Sokka? Did your thoughts get buried by badgermoles?” A raspy voice asked, drawing Sokka back.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking about stuff,” he responded sheepishly.

“Ah, yes, stuff. My nephew is incredibly concerned with it as well.”

“The Spirit World. I’ve been thinking of it a lot.”

Mushu nodded. “It is a lot to consider. There are many things we will never know about our spirits after they’ve left their bodies.”

“I… I like to think that sometimes people stick around,” Sokka murmured into his drink.

“Well, of course they do. But that’s only for the spirits to know.”

“The spirits. Of course,” he sighed and paid for his drink. “Thanks Mushu, have a nice afternoon.”

As he walked by the ghost on his way to the door, Sokka could swear the man smiled.

________________

Jet was an asshole. But that didn’t mean he deserved to die.

There was something indescribable about actually watching someone die. It was like one second they were there—whole and full of a brightness Sokka had spent his whole life trying to describe. And then it was gone, and in its place a shell. That’s what Jet was like; one second a candle burned, and in the next it was snuffed out. It was nothing like Yue’s death, which felt painfully natural. Jet’s death was a hitch of breath, a cut-off sentence.

Sokka pulled Katara away from the body, leaving Smellerbee and Longshot to their friend. He buried his face in the top of her hair, trying not to pull her hair-loopies. When he looked up, it took everything in him not to gasp. There was Jet alright, hovering next to his body and looking sadly at his friends. Sokka reached out, but Katara just hugged him tighter. Right, no one else could see him.

Jet glanced over at Sokka and gave one, solitary nod—the kind Sokka associated with warriors and people who played at being them. But he swallowed hard and nodded back. He blinked, and Jet was gone.

________________

Jet wasn’t like Kya—there was no rhyme or reason to when he showed up. Sometimes it was in the thick of battle, like the attack on Ba Sing Se, and others it was during quiet, forgettable moments. Nonetheless, he was a welcome presence. The rebels never seemed to notice his presence directly, but they relaxed when he was nearby. They fought better too.

And every now and then, Jet would look Sokka’s way and smile or nod or wink. In those moments, Sokka would forget he wasn’t alone, just for a second.

________________

Even in death, Jet seemed to harbor an affection for Katara. Sokka, of course, was not fond of this.

Katara lingered by the bow of the ship—Hakoda’s ship—staring off into the waves. Aang was below decks, trying not to die and ruin everything. And Sokka? Well, he’d spent his days plotting their next steps. He made plans for as many contingencies as possible: if Aang was fine, if Aang died, if Aang lived but couldn’t be the Avatar.

The wind teased at his wolftail, curling the edges of the maps he had laid out on the ship’s deck. Ahead, an otherworldly glow flickered. Sokka glanced up and stifled a gasp. On the railing sat Jet. Had he been flesh and blood and bone, he and Katara would have been close enough to touch—close enough to kiss. Instead, he stared out at the waves beside her, contemplating something Sokka couldn’t put his finger on.

“Katara!” Sokka cried out, waving his hands at her. “Can you come over and look at this?” She rolled her eyes, but complied, leaving Jet and the sea behind. Katara bent over the maps and plans, and Sokka stared over her head to make eye contact with Jet. Quickly, he pointed from himself to the spirit in that childish I’m-watching-you way then bowed his head as well. Sokka almost missed the way Jet stuck out his tongue back at him.

________________

Sokka used to hate Zuko, and everyone knew it. He was stuck-up and jerk-y and not worth Team Avatar’s time. It didn’t help that he was pretty enough to make Sokka’s heart skip a beat, even with the scar. Especially with the scar.

It didn’t matter what he thought about Zuko—what mattered was fixing everything after they’d broken it all apart. At times, Sokka found himself staring at his ceiling, wondering why exactly they had been the ones chosen for this. They were kids after all—powerful kids, but kids nonetheless. A bender for each element, with an incredible warrior and a boy who saw what shouldn’t be seen to boot.

The war had been over for a week, and Sokka tried not to notice the ghosts that crowded the streets of the Fire Nation. There were so many—all of them aimlessly wandering. Sokka darted through the palace in a desperate and frantic hope of escaping them. After multiple wrong turns and frequent evil glances from the staff, he finally ended up outside the right door.

Sokka raised his hand to knock, but before his knuckles could connect, Zuko opened the ornate door.

“Come in,” he muttered and moved aside to make room for Sokka. The two had become almost-maybe-friends since Zuko joined them to defeat Ozai. In the weeks since, the twerp had started to grow on Sokka, not that he’d ever admit it.

“So, what’s up? What did you call me here for, your princeliness?” Sokka drawled, plopping back on a fancy chair and propping his legs up.

“I need the White Lotus’ help,” Zuko began.

“Then why ask me? Your uncle or Piandao would love to help.”

“Because… because I can’t tell them!” Zuko sputtered.

“Why?” Even Sokka couldn’t tell if it meant why not or why me.

Zuko did not meet his eyes. “Because it’s stupid. They’re just going to dismiss me as foolish. You have their favor for some reason, and I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

Sokka looked up, startled, at Zuko’s outburst. They were friends, sure, but Sokka had already had his magical Zuko field trip. On the other hand, anything that was too silly for the White Lotus was usually right up Sokka’s alley. “Okay, okay, I’ll help. What is it?”

“I need to find the person who killed my mother,” Zuko whispered, as if he was on the edge of tears.

Killed his mother. That… well, that didn’t make sense. He would have seen Zuko’s mom by now if she was dead. Someone that Zuko loved this much wouldn’t just abandon him after she died, right?

“... If I tell you something, you have to promise not to freak out,” Sokka began slowly.

“Okay?” Zuko rolled his eyes, but sat down on the chair opposite Sokka anyway.

“So, uh, I can kinda see ghosts? Like spirits. Of dead people.”

Zuko frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“Like my mom? She shows up every now and then. And Jet hangs out with the rebels and Iroh has this kid who’s always at the tea shop—”

“Lu Ten?” Zuko interrupted, shooting to his feet.

“Maybe? He has a topknot with a fancy thing in it.”

Zuko nodded and began to pace around the room. “But why are you telling me this?”

Sokka cleared his throat loudly. “Because… because if your mom cared about you the way you said she did, she’d be here. At the very least, I’d be able to feel her. But she isn’t, so how can she be dead?” He mumbled.

Zuko stopped in his tracks, but didn’t say anything. Sokka pulled at his collar sheepishly, his stomach churning with every silent second that passed.

“Thank you,” Zuko finally said, his voice just a hint rawer than usual. Then, he began to stalk toward the door.

Sokka’s heart pounded. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Did he think that Sokka was crazy? Was he going to call the guards?

“Wait!” He called out desperately, “Where are you going?”

Zuko tossed the barest glance over his shoulder. “We have a lot of work to do.”

________________

It had been three weeks since Sokka’s confession, and the days had been filled with preparations. Zuko and Sokka would soon set out on an expedition to find his mom, and Sokka would be lying if he said it didn’t make him seven kinds of nervous. Zuko had named him as his official security detail to limit the amount of people tagging along, and it did nothing to quell the queasiness in Sokka’s stomach.

This isn’t going to end up like Yue, he told himself. You’re not in danger. You’re going to help Zuko find his mom. He grimaced and adjusted the pack on his shoulders. For someone with so much money, Zuko seemed too eager to rough it.

Sokka looked out over the entry hall of the Fire Palace. A shadow flickered in the corner of his vision, but when he looked there was nothing there. He shoved down his dismay. Of course Kya wouldn’t come to see him off. She was probably checking on Katara or doing ghost errands or something.

But there it was, that flicker again. This time it came from the columns that lined the hall. Glancing at Zuko, who was talking to the guards before their departure, Sokka slipped over to the other end of the hall.

Leaning against the ornate wall was Topknot Man, who Sokka had gleaned was actually Lu Ten. Lu Ten grinned at Sokka, then drifted closer. Stopping a foot away, he looked at Sokka, then at Zuko, then back at Sokka. He reached out with a single, transparent hand and placed it on Sokka’s shoulder. Though there was no substance to him, Sokka could feel its weight.

Be careful with him, Sokka could hear in the back of his mind, like the words to a song long forgotten. He stood agape, as Lu Ten tried to cuff him upside the head and drifted away. Was this a shovel talk? Could ghosts do those?

“Sokka?” Zuko called somewhere behind him.

Sokka started. “Coming!” He returned, before crossing back to the not-ghost-hunting party. Zuko smiled as he came into view, and Sokka grinned back. Maybe this was why the spirits had chosen him. Maybe it had all been for this moment, when he’d finally get to help.

As the pair walked into the light of the rising morning, Sokka couldn’t help but think that he was finally done with ghosts. He was ready to join the living.

#atla big bang #atla big bang 2020 #hifthah #atla #sokka #zukka #yukka #sokka sees ghosts au #katara #kya #zuko #aang #lu ten #iroh #my writing

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raccoon-is-my-spirit-animal · 4 years

Text

Finn, Tommy and the Mouse Trap

A/N: this GIF is just the cutest. So here’s another fic for you all. I think I kinda strayed from the original Home Alone concept, but I still think this is fun :)

Summary: The Home Alone Peaky Blinders Series Featuring 10 y/o Finn Shelby part 3. Tommy wants Finn to help during a business meeting and it is all fun and games until it goes wrong.

part 1, Part 2, Part 4, part 5, part 6

Warning: minor violence

---

“Finnigan, I need your help! Where are you? Finn!” Tommy burst in the kitchen and found his brother sitting at the table, together with Ada. Finn didn’t even look up when Tommy entered the room, pretending to be immersed in the morning paper. Ada smiled to herself as she saw what Finn was doing: he was the spitting image of Polly. He sat there, cross-legged with the paper in one hand and a cup of dark tea in the other. Without looking away from the paper, Finn sipped his tea, which turned out to be too hot and as nonchalantly as he could he spit his mouthful back into the cup. Ada bit her lip not to laugh aloud and ruin her little brother’s play. Finn wasn’t reading the paper. He couldn’t even read, although ever since John found that one funny joke in the paper, Finn looked through them every morning. But this wasn’t about the paper. Finn was still angry at Tommy for forgetting him in London. And rightly so, Ada thought. Tommy knew it too and sighed. “Finn,” he said in a softer tone, “I need your help today, eh? I am meeting with the head of a rival family. A man named--” “—Paul Loveridge, I know,” Finn said, still not looking up. Tommy was taken aback. “How the bloody hell do you know that?” Finn put down his cup of tea and straightened out the paper. “Alfie told me,” he answered simply. “Alfie told you?” Tommy repeated incredulously. He spread out his arms in confusion. “How?” “Alfie and I kept in touch. He writes me a letter every week and tells me how my booby traps are working. Last week he also told me you would be meeting with this Loveridge fellow.” Tommy was astonished. He turned to Ada, “You knew about this?” he asked. “I’ve been writing Finn’s letters, Tom. The boy can’t write.” It was quiet for a few seconds while Tommy processed what he had just heard. “Alright,” he said at last, “alright. I’ll deal with that later. The point is that, now, Finn, I need your help in dealing with Loveridge.” Finn seemed to think about this. Then he folded the paper away and looked his brother in the eye for the first time that morning. “Fine,” he said, “but I want a reward.” Again, Ada had to hide her smirk behind her hand. “Name your price,” Tommy said. “I want a gun,” Finn said eagerly. “Absolutely not.” “A horse.” “No.” “A --” “And no puppies.” Finn scowled. His eyes flicked across the room and finally landed on the cap that was tucked away in Tommy’s pocket. His face cleared. “Then I want a cap,” he said, “with a blade sewn in it.” Tommy considered the proposition. “Alright,” he finally said, and Ada looked up in indignation about Tommy being willing to let Finn have such a weapon. But Tommy wasn’t done yet. “You can have a cap. Just like us and with a blade, but,” and he held up his finger, “the blade will be blunt until you learn how to handle it.” Finn nodded, “that’s fair.” And the little boy offered his hand to his big brother. Tommy took shook the hand with a small smile. “Let’s get to work then.”

“So I just need to sit here and wait?” Finn asked sceptically. “No, you sit here, and you pay attention. And if you see somebody or somebodies we don’t expect, you warn us,” Tommy explained. Finn twisted his brand-new cap in his hand. “Why me?” he asked eventually. “Well, you are the only one small enough to hide in those tubes, hmm?” Finn nodded, but he didn’t look up. This morning he had wanted nothing more than to help his brothers with their business, but now that the time was there, he couldn’t help but feel a bit queasy. John saw, of course it was John, and placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Oi, there is nothing to worry about. You only have to warn us if something happens and it may not happen at all.” Again, Finn nodded, but this time he also gave his big brother a little smile. “Right, then,” he said and he put on his very own Peaky Blinder cap.

In the end, Finn felt stupid for having felt so nervous. He had been waiting in the big stone, tube for at least an hour and nothing had happened. The stone was not a comfortable seat and he shifted in the tube to find a more comfortable position. His gaze swept over the empty courtyard one last time before his attention shifted to the litter that lay in the tube. Some wooden planks, rusty nails, papers and even a box with matches. He sighed and wanted to close his eyes for a bit when his gaze fell on a mousetrap. It was empty and looked like it hadn’t been used before. In fact, it wasn’t even set. Finn carefully picked it up and studied it. Of course, he had seen a mouse trap before; Aunt Polly used them in the shop but ever since Ada stepped in one of them as a child, Polly was careful to keep them away from Finn. Now, after fiddling with it for a bit, he figured out how to set the trap. Take that, Aunt Poll, he thought, I am not like Ada at all. Finn put the mouse trap in his pocket. At least one good thing to keep from this boring meeting, he thought. But then he heard it. Actually, he had been hearing for a little while, but Finn’s mind had unconsciously dismissed it as unimportant while he was studying his trap. And that had been a mistake. Now, the sound of numerous footsteps approaching over the gravel could not be ignored anymore. Finn’s head shot up, but he forgot he was hidden in a tube. With a beng his head hit the top of the tube and his cap fell over his eyes and he couldn’t see anything anymore. He didn’t see how the men came closer and didn’t see how one man pointed in his direction when they heard the loud sound coming from the tube. Only when two pairs of hands reached in the tube, did Finn finally see what was happening. But by then it was already too late.

The man holding Finn stank of tobacco and sweat. He was tall and muscular and with one hand he had twisted Finn’s arm behind his back. With the other hand, the man held a loaded gun against Finn’s temple. Finn felt the cold metal digging into his skin as he stumbled along with the long steps of his captor. The Loveridges, for these were undoubtedly the cronies of Paul Loveridge, violently pushed the doors open to the room where Tommy, John and Arthur were having their meeting with the head of the Loveridge family. Finn flinched when the doors banged open, but he was quickly put into place by the man, who dug his gun further against Finn’s head. “Look what we found outside, Paul,” the man said and laughed, “an imp spying in the tubes.” Finn’s cheeks began to burn with shame as he looked at his brothers. John had immediately started to walk forward, but Arthur had stopped him, although he himself was breathing heavily with supressed anger. Both men’s eyes glimmered with hatred. Tommy’s face remained stony as ever, though Finn saw how he clenched his fists until the knuckles saw white. Tommy looked over Finn for a moment, checking if he wasn’t hurt, before his eyes flicked towards Paul. “Release the boy, Mr. Loveridge,” he simply said. Paul chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t think I will.” He stood up walked over to the man who was holding Finn in his iron grip. Without turning back to Tommy, Paul began to speak. “You see, Mr. Shelby, a moment ago you were telling me you held all the strings, and that it would be best if I just complied to your wishes. But now,” and now he did turn around, “I think the roles are reversed.” Finn couldn’t take it anymore. With a burning hatred he spat on the ground, right next to the shoes of Paul Loveridge. The gang leader started and almost jumped in the air. Like a snake, he turned back and moved so close to Finn, the boy could smell his breath. It was bad. “You little rat,” Paul sneered and at the same time, Finn’s captor twisted Finn’s arm a little further. An audible gasp escaped from Finn’s mouth before he bit his lip, refusing to give in to the pain. Suddenly Arthur’s voice boomed across the room. “You leave him be, Loveridge! Get your bastard hands off him.” The man’s grip on Finn’s arm loosed just enough for Finn to draw a shaky breath of relieve. The conversation in the room turned back to the topic of who ‘had all the strings in hands’, but Finn had stopped listening. An idea had popped up in his head. When Paul made him out for a rat, Finn suddenly thought of the mouse trap that was still in his pocket. He only had to grab it and luckily, he still had one hand free. He quickly moved the arm that wasn’t held back, but his captor didn’t notice. The man was too absorbed in the powerplay that was happening before his eyes. Ever so slowly, Finn moved his hand to his pocket and slowly drew out the set trap. He glanced around to see if anybody was paying attention to what he was doing, but no one looked his way. Except John. His big brother’s eyes widened as he saw what Finn was holding. Finn looked in his eyes and saw what John was thinking but couldn’t say aloud. Don’t do it Finn, don’t you fucking dare. Finn held John’s gaze a moment longer and then looked away. He hoped the message was clear. I don’t give a flying fuck, John. You are not the one being held at gunpoint. Still moving as slowly as possible, Finn brought the trap behind his back to where he thought the man’s arm should be. He closed his eyes, please let this work, and then shoved the trap on the man’s arm. For a moment nothing happened. Then he heard a tiny snap and a roar that sounded like a dying whale erupted in the room. The man screamed out in pain and let go of Finn’s arm. Immediately, the boy moved. With a practiced movement, he shoved his elbow in the man’s stomach, who doubled over and let go of the gun. Finn kicked it hard and darted away from the grasping hands of the Loveridges. He nearly bumped into Paul Loveridge, but Finn was done being taken by surprise. “You bastard!” he yelled and brought his foot down hard on Paul’s toes before he ran to the safety of his brothers. He crashed against Arthur, who wrapped his arms around him so tight, Finn could barely breath. But he didn’t mind. “It’s alright, Finn-boy,” Arthur said with a thick voice, “you’re safe now.” Finn felt how John came to stand next to them and felt a hand ruffle through his hair. “Where the fuck did you get a mouse trap, eh?” John whispered, but Finn only buried his face in Arthurs coat. “Right, then, Mr. Loveridge,” Tommy said, “I’ll be sure to tell everybody you wanted to use a ten-year-old boy as a barging chip in a business meeting. I’ll also mention that said boy proceeded to beat both you and your crony in a matter of minutes. We are done here.” And the four Shelby brothers walked out of the room, but John turned around one more time. “Good luck with your foot, bastard.”

Finn was wrapped in a blanket and held a cup of tea in his hands. Finn carefully took a sip and found that this time it was drinkable. Evening had fallen and it was getting cold. But that wasn’t the only reason why Finn huddled deeper under his blanket. Again, he felt the point of the gun digging against his head and shuddered. Softly, a knock came on the door and Finn looked up. Tommy came in and closed the door behind him. “Hello, Finn, are you feeling better?” he asked. Finn thought again of the events of that afternoon. “Still a bit shaky,” he admitted after a moment. Tommy nodded. “I understand,” he said, “mind if I sit?” Finn shook his head and scooched over, so that there was room for Tommy to sit on the couch. “Listen,” Tommy began, “I—I am sorry. For everything.” Finn was dumbstruck. What the fuck am I hearing? Did he bang his head against a lamppost on the way home? But he said nothing. He knew better than to interrupt his brother now. Tommy went on, “I shouldn’t have asked you to help us today. It was too dangerous.” Finn started to say something, but his brother wasn’t done yet. “And, I am also sorry for forgetting you in London. It won’t happen again.” Finn wasn’t so sure about that, but he appreciated the apology anyway. “It is okay, Tommy, it wasn’t your fault and we all made it out alive.” Tommy smiled a small smile, “I’m glad you aren’t angry anymore. Anyway, we still have to give your reward.” Finn furrowed his brows. “What reward? I already got the cap, didn’t I?” “Ah yes,” Tommy said, “but that was the reward for agreeing to help us. I am talking about the reward for stepping on that bastard’s toes.” Finn let out a shy smile, “yeah, I don’t think that will ever heal again.” Now, Tommy’s face split open in a real genuine smile. “I hope not. Arthur, John, bring him in!” Finn watched as John opened the door and he, Arthur and Ada came in. All three were grinning like lunatics and Finn saw that his eldest brother was holding both hands behind his back. The boy craned his neck to see what Arthur was holding, but luckily Ada was just as impatient as he was. “Oh for the love of God, Art, just show it to him!” Arthur grinned and with a majestic whirl of his hands he pulled the surprise from behind his back. “Tadaa!” John yelled enthusiastically and for the second time that evening, Finn was speechless. The surprise wiggled in Arthur’s hands and it let out a soft bark. The three looked expectantly at their little brother, who seemed to have lost the ability to speak. “It’s a dog, Finn,” John said helpfully when Finn didn’t say anything. “I know,” Finn said softly and with hoarse voice. He had a lump in his throat, so he didn’t say anything else, he only held out his hands. Arthur, with a big smile, slowly dropped the puppy in Finn’s lap. It was a beautiful animal. A black and white border collie with one ear upright and the other flapped down. The puppy barked again and wiggled its tail while Finn scratched it behind its ears, still not able to fully process what was happening. “We thought you deserved him after today,” Tommy said, “do you like him?” Finn looked up at his brother. “I like him very much,” he whispered. He looked back the puppy and laughed as the dog barked for a third time, demanding another scratch behind the ears. Only now, Finn saw that the puppy had two different eyes, one brown and one stale blue. “Do you have a name?” Ada asked. Finn tilted his head and looked at the black and white fluff ball in his lap as he thought of a name.

“Frankie,” he smiled at last.

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinders #finn shelby #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #peaky blinders fluff

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vaguelyrotten · 3 years

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Like a Lily In a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary: Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter One

It was raining.

Then again, it was always raining in Idris when it seemed to matter most.

Alec dipped out of the carriage with a sigh and made a beeline for the manor’s front door, knowing that he was going to get wet regardless.

“Alec,” his mother said coldly as she opened the door. “It was nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule and join us in our time of need.” He sighed, following his mother into the house and stripping off his soaked jacket.

He stood, dripping wet, in the foyer as Maryse looked him over with a hard eye. “It doesn’t look like the city nor the additional training you are supposed to be receiving are doing you any good. Honestly, what was even the point of sending you? You should have stayed here. You could have taken over the household when your father fell ill.”

He knew that his mother meant for her words to hurt him, and there was a time only a few years ago when they would have, but no longer. Getting out from under his parents’ thumb had done wonders for his mental health. He knew who he was now and that he had the ability to choose his own path.

So right now? Standing in the foyer of the house he hadn’t set foot in for two years, soaked to the bone and under his mother’s scrutiny? He felt nothing...and it felt good. “You have Jace,” he replied after a moment, accepting the towel that their butler Hodge was offering him.

She scoffed, crossing her arms in that way which meant an argument was coming. “Jace has his duties and you had yours. You were supposed to be head of this house, and this town, after your father retired.”

He’d first left for the city under the pretense of studying law but he’d fallen out of love with that and discovered that his true passion was architecture. He, of course, hadn’t informed his parents of his decision to switch his field of study. They’d be disappointed and there would be words, and while their opinions no longer mattered to him, he needed to be in the right frame of mind for that conversation. He didn’t foresee himself wanting to take that dive any time soon. “I left for the family’s best interest. We need to get out of here. This town is killing all of us.”

Before his father had fallen ill, he’d meant that metaphorically. Generations of Lightwoods had lived in Idris for nearly two-hundred years and had held the position of mayor for most of that. In that time, his family had grown crueler and colder. Once, they’d been a light in the darkness for the people in this town, rescuing them from disaster and leading them through. Today, the Lightwoods still led… but they definitely no longer did it with Idris’ best interest at heart.

No, it was all about power. Alec hated that and all the politics that came with it. That’s what he had hoped to avoid by moving to the city. One day, he was hoping he could have his siblings join him.

His mother chose to say nothing more. He draped the towel over his shoulders with a sigh. “Let me see him. I’m here now, at least.” Alec had tried to get there sooner but the spring rain made getting across the river treacherous. He had to wait a couple of days for the water to get back to normal levels. His mother started up the stairs and he followed her without further comment.

“I have the house and the town to attend to. Someone has to run this place while Robert is indisposed. I’ll leave you to it but come find me when you’re done, Alec. We have issues to discuss.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Alec alone in the room with his very ill and unconscious father.

Alec had seen his father in a lot of ways — some good, some bad, but he’d never seen him like this. The older man was pale and clammy and yet somehow looked peaceful. This illness was like nothing the town had ever seen before. Their doctors had been completely stumped...the first few symptoms had appeared — loss of appetite, attention, and other cognitive abilities that soon gave way to fever. The fever never broke and eventually, the patient lost consciousness. They were slowly wasting away into nothing.

Except not quite. They’d realized that the first few patients never got worse in that way that they did when their ancestors had the wasting disease caused by bad fruit. Instead, their body almost seemed to be turning to stone. And that was frighteningly new and uncharted waters.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come sooner,” he whispered as he touched the back of his hand gently to his father’s head. The fever was still there and his skin felt all too brittle. “But I promise I will do whatever is in my power to find a way to fix this.”

“We’re glad you’re finally here, Alec,” a voice said, pulling him from his reverie to turn to the door. “We tried to do the best that we could but...neither Izzy nor I are you, and Maryse just wants to keep doing that thing where she insists there’s no problem at all and it’s business as usual.” Jace closed the door quietly behind him and pulled his brother into a hug.

“Do you guys know anything? Mom’s letter was…” His voice trailed off as he searched for more polite words.

“Entirely lacking?” Jace supplied for him. “Unfortunately, nothing solid. They all seem to have fallen ill at around the same time. There are eleven total and they were all fairly recently on a patrol of the borders. We’ve hired sorcerers from the city, hedge witches, even a psychic or two, but no one can find anything wrong with them. They’re just...asleep. Asleep but slowly turning to stone it seems. We’ve got people digging through old books in the archives but no one has turned up anything even remotely similar to whatever this is.”

Alec wasn’t a doctor — he was, in fact, the farthest thing from one. Isabelle knew infinitely more than he did when it came to medicine. What he lacked in knowledge, he made up for in stubborn determination and his ability to think around a situation. If he wanted to find a possible cure for whatever was ailing the townspeople, he’d have to think outside of the proverbial box. “I’ll do what I can,” he said after a moment, giving his father’s unconscious form one last look before stepping into the hallway with Jace at his heels. “I’m not a miracle worker.” But he’d be damned sure he’d try to be one.

“I’ve got to get back. I just wanted to see you before you passed out or Maryse got to you first,” Jace replied, squeezing his shoulder and heading down the stairs towards the front door. “Good luck in there — she’s been… particularly Maryse since Robert took ill.” That fact didn’t surprise Alec at all. His mother had never dealt with change very well.

She was waiting for him in his father’s office, exactly where he had expected her to be. “Close the door behind you, Alec. What I’ve got to say need not fall on nosy ears.” He knew she was referring to Isabelle and her endless curiosity. While he didn’t necessarily agree with his mother’s request, he did oblige. “Take a seat.” She gestured towards a chair in front of the desk — one that Alec had distinct memories of sitting in any time he’d gotten in trouble when he’d been younger and had been called in front of his father. Alec chose the farther seat instead, ignoring the judgemental look that he received.

“As no cure has been found nor diagnosis made and your father’s condition is only getting worse, we need to prepare for the worst.” She pushed a yellowed document across the desk and Alec took it, scanning the page quickly before realizing what he was holding in his hand.

“This is his will,” he stated simply, his fingers glossing over the page as he quickly read through it. It didn’t look like it had been written recently. His mother nodded her head in confirmation.

“He’s been preparing for the worst. He’s already a few years older than your grandfather and your great-grandfather were when they died… and there have been stirrings on the borders. He was afraid that the men would be called to war any day now.” Alec frowned at that. He hadn’t heard of anything going on that would signal the start of a war. Sure, Idris wasn’t a big town but if war was truly coming, he assumed someone in his family would have told him.

“Oh, don’t give me that. There hasn’t been anything truly substantial. Some whispers, some unrest, but nothing more than that. Robert has been...unwell for a while now. He’s grown...paranoid. He had his will drawn up shortly after you left.” Her stoic facade had broken now and Alec could count on one hand the number of times that he’d seen his mother look truly lost.

“It was his idea to say yes when you asked to go to college in the city,” she continued, holding out her hand for him to return the will. “He thought getting out of here would keep you safe and if you were safe there would be someone to take over when he was gone. That’s what he really wanted and I’m sorry Alec, I know you’re enjoying your time at The Institute studying law but the family needs you here now.”

He wanted to argue. Angel, how he wanted to argue with her. He had had to fight tooth and claw to get them to even consider letting him into the city to further his studies. The Lightwoods had been here for generations and not a single one of them had ever left. This was home or at least it should be. Alec had always felt more alienated than most for reasons he tried to keep to himself.

So while yes, he knew that he should fight and argue and insist that he deserved to go back to the city because he had fought so damn hard for it in the first place, he knew that right here, right now… his argument would fall flat. The very best thing he could do was study and beg and plead and crawl through whatever hell he needed to to find a cure for this illness. When his father was well again and his father wanted him safe, he’d have a better chance of getting out of here once more. “Of course, mother, anything for the family,” he replied, trying to keep his voice level. “I’ll get to work at once.”

She sighed, obviously expecting more of a fight out of him and now not really sure how the rest of the conversation was going to go. “No, not at once. You’ve only just arrived and I’m sure you are exhausted. Besides, you’re still dripping on the mahogany floors. Go change before you ruin the antique wood, and say hello to your sister. She’s been waiting for you to get here.”

Alec didn’t bother with a response, simply turning on his heel and heading towards the stables — where he knew his sister would inevitably be hiding. The rain was starting to slow but Alec didn’t want to get even wetter if he could avoid it so he jogged across the cobblestones and pushed open the barn door.

Isabelle was, as expected, at the end of the aisle, illuminated by the grey hues of the rainy weather outside. She raised her whip above her head and snapped it towards a lone bottle on the rail with a loud crack. Alec continued to watch in silence for a few more moments as she set the bottle back up and went again. Finally, he let out a slow clap and watched as she tensed, relaxing once again when she realized who had interrupted her practice session.

“Good job,” he said, opening his arms to allow her to dash across the room to give him a hug. “You’re getting better at that. I dare say you might even be an expert.”

She snorted, her face buried in his shoulder as the two continued to hug. “Try telling that to mom. She still thinks it isn’t proper and that I should focus on finding myself a husband from a nice family. ‘Leave the weapons to your brothers, Isabelle. Men don’t want a wife who can beat them in a sword fight,” she mocked in a very good imitation of Maryse Lightwood.

“Ignore her. Any man you find would be lucky to have you. Besides, if you stopped, who would be my competition?” Alec asked, taking a step back so that he could look down into her eyes. “I’d have to practice with Jace and you know how he is...he—”

“Cheats,” she interrupted with a sniffle. “Yeah, I know. He hasn’t gotten any better, either. Still just as cocky, still a bad liar, and still telegraphs his moves.” She put the bottles back on the shelf and began to coil her whip back up. “He missed you, you know. I do too...and Max. It’s just not the same without you here.”

Alec knew that Isabelle knew exactly why he’d needed to leave. He also knew that she didn’t blame him, but the Lightwood siblings had always been close. He missed not being able to see them more than once a year.

“Mom’s been...harder since Dad got sick. She’s worried, we can tell, but she’s trying to continue as if it’s business as usual and you know how she is when she gets stressed,” Isabelle sighed. Alec knew all too well. Maryse tended to meddle in her children’s lives far more than was necessary.

That had, in fact, been the final straw for Alec. His mother had been dealing with some Idris politics and had decided to kill two birds with one stone. She’d set Alec up with a nice young girl from the village to strengthen the Lightwood family name and had given herself something to take her mind off the stress from work.

Alec had nearly ended up married.

Nearly. Luckily, Jace and Isabelle had stepped up to argue about Alec’s choice and happiness. The wedding had descended into chaos and Alec had set out for the city the next day under the guise of studying law.

“Come on,” he said after a moment, throwing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her back in for a quick hug. “Let’s head back inside. I want to change into something dry and I’ve yet to see Max. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see me.”

----------

Dinner was a quieter affair than Alec expected from a Lightwood family dinner. Without Robert there to judge them, his conversation with his siblings was light and easy. Jace and Isabelle caught him up on town gossip. Max tried to add his two cents when he could but the conversation strayed towards more adult topics like who was marrying who and what the Council had recently decreed.

“Mom says she’s going to send me to boarding school in the fall,” Max stated when there was a break in conversation. “I don’t want to go. I’ll have to wear a scratchy uniform and get up early and it’ll be so far away. I want to be like Jace and fight monsters!”

“Max, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Maryse replied with a glare. “The Carstairs Academy is a lovely school. They’ll teach you manners, for one thing. You’ll learn math, science, and history. You’ll be going to a proper school — like Alec. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

The little boy grimaced. “I don’t want to be like Alec...no offense. I want to kill dragons and fight trolls like Jace.”

“It’s less dragons and trolls and more about upset fathers and a fast horse, little man,” Jace replied, getting a smack on the back of the head from Isabelle. “What? It’s true.”

“That’s enough — apparently, none of my children have manners. Max, it’s past your bedtime. It’s time to let the adults talk.” Max looked about to argue but one look from Maryse had him pushing in his chair and shuffling out of the room. Once they heard the door upstairs shut with an audible thud, she turned her attention back towards her other children. “I’ll be leaving before the sun rises. I’m heading to Alicante tomorrow to seek help from the king. I’ll start in town, we’ll leave two days after that. I’ll be gone as long as it takes to make our case.”

Alec’s fork clattered to his plate. “What? You’re just leaving? Dad’s already indisposed and you’re just going to leave the town without any sort of leadership? You’re going to leave us here alone?” He was well aware that his parents had made some stupid decisions in the past but this had to be one of the stupidest that he’d heard.

“The rest of the Council is still in town, Alec, and in case you have forgotten, I brought you back. We’ve tried everything to cure this and nothing is working. We’re losing more people to this cursed disease each day. We’ve got to try something. Pleading our case to the king and hoping for assistance is all we’ve got left.”

Alec picked up his fork and said nothing in response. He was sure the anger was coming off him in visible waves. “I’m not going alone, Alec,” his mother said after a moment, choosing not to start an argument and stating the facts instead. “Two of your father’s men will be going with me. We’ll only be gone a couple of weeks. With luck, we return with a cure.”

----------

Much later that evening, well after dinner had finished and his mother and siblings had gone off to bed and he’d had time to cool off, Alec found himself in the library staring at shelf after shelf of books that his family had collected over the years. His mother was certain that they’d already exhausted every possible option they had for a cure here, but Alec had never been one to give up that easily.

There had to be something in the thousands of books that they had here — even if it was just a footnote in some ancient text.

Angel, where would he even start?

He walked past the first shelf and ran his fingers gently over the spines of the books, taking in the titles as he did.

A Brief History of Idris, Recipes From the Coast, Nursery Rhymes and Other Tales, The Art of Breaking a Horse…

There was no rhyme nor reason to how anything here was shelved and he wished he was back in Alicante where he had a card catalog to reference at the very least. This could be a futile effort… but he had promised that he’d try, so try he shall.

He pulled the first book off the shelf — A Brief History of Idris —- and flipped to the first page. It was written by one of his ancestors; a Lightwood whose name he didn’t recognize. Maybe, with luck, that Lightwood had stumbled across something — anything — all those years ago that could help him now.

He could hope, at least.

Two hours later, he’d scanned quickly through the book and found it to be completely useless. He’d learned exactly nothing. The ‘brief history’ had been exactly what every child in Idris learned in school. He pushed himself off the chair he’d settled in and placed the book on the shelf. He could skip the cookbook — the likelihood of him finding a cure in that wasn’t high — before he moved on to the next one. Nursery Rhymes.

He meant to skip that one too but as his hand hovered over it, he realized that many myths and legends were often based in fact. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try. At the very least it wouldn’t take him long to read.

Most of the rhymes and stories were useless — schoolyard songs or bedtime stories — but tucked away at the end of the book was one that seemed a bit out of place. This was a longer poem with far more complicated words than the rest of the book. He frowned and glanced at the title.

The Goblin Market.

What?

Alec of course knew of the goblins who lived in the woods — all children in Idris were taught about them. The goblins were dangerous and would kidnap and eat children if they strayed too far into the woods. They used to be friendly with the townspeople but a war broke out and that relationship had ended. The goblins had secluded themselves in the woods — keeping their magic to themselves — and the people of Idris stayed in town and imported anything they needed from the neighboring cities.

It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was the one that they’d come up with quickly, and no one had ever seen fit to try and fix it.

The poem followed the story of two sisters who had heard the goblins crying in the middle of the night as they were trying to sell their fruits. One of the sisters tried what they were offering and fell ill when they returned home. She became listless and began to fade away. Her sister tried to save her and returned to the goblin market to obtain another fruit which she brought home and fed to her sister. The sister was cured and both girls lived happily ever after.

Alec frowned. That was similar to what the town was experiencing now… but the poem mentioned nothing about the sister turning to stone. After all the warnings about venturing into the woods that were drilled into them when they were little, surely none of the men who had fallen sick had been stupid enough to go to the goblins to try and trade.

He sighed and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room to find that three hours had passed since he’d been in here and it was now well after 2 in the morning. He should retire to his room to get a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up but...perhaps he had time for one more book.

Instead of putting the nursery rhyme book back on the shelf, he pushed it off to the corner of the table. Worst case he’d put it back later. There was no harm in leaving it out for now.

He walked back to the shelf and skipped over the book on horse training. The very next one was titled Herbal Remedies of Our Ancestors.

Finally. That was more like it.

----------

When his sister pushed open the door to the library the next morning, Alec jumped. He glanced at the clock and found that nearly five hours had passed since he’d pulled the book of herbal remedies off the shelf and began reading.

A few pages in, he’d pulled a sheet of paper out from the desk and had begun taking notes. One sheet had turned into two, which had quickly turned into far more than that.

There were so many plants that had been used to treat common illnesses when people weren’t so reliant on modern medicine or the magic from the sorcerers found in the cities.

Catnip for recovery from colds. St. John’s Wort for inflammation. Marigold for skin diseases.

It was a start.

Isabelle came up behind him and glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “That’s a lot of plants you’ve written down. I’m sure the hedge witch tried at least some of them. It’s not like we have a stock of these. Where do you expect to find Elderberry without a day’s ride out of Idris and a day’s ride back? We don’t really have that sort of time.”

He hadn’t considered that.

But perhaps there was a solution.

He glanced out of the window and a plan began to form in the back of his mind.

“I’ll have to visit the woods,” he said after a moment, grabbing the two books and his stack of papers and heading back to his room. He needed to prepare if he was venturing into the unknown.

“Alec! You can’t go into the woods. You know that we’ve all been banned from there. It isn’t safe!”

“I know, Izzy. Trust me, I know, but right now this is the only idea we’ve got to try to save our father and the rest of the people who have fallen sick; unless you’ve got a better idea that you’d like to share?” She remained silent and Alec shook his head. “I’ve got to get ready. Tell Jace to find me if he hasn’t left already and can you saddle Flame?”

She looked like she wanted to say more but eventually relented with a shake of her head. Alec watched her go with a sigh. He knew she was right — heading into the woods was a stupid and reckless idea at best...but it was one he had to try.

He quickly got dressed and grabbed a satchel from his closet. He’d leave the books here, just in case, but he needed a way to carry the list of plants he wanted to collect...as well as any plants he may actually find.

What else did he need to take?

He dashed down the stairs and into his father’s office, thanking the small miracle of his mother heading into town early this morning. Map...he probably needed a map. He rifled through the desk and found one tucked away at the back of a drawer. It was old but it would have to do. After all, no one had been in the woods in years. This was probably the most recent map they had.

Alec looked around, trying to figure out if there was anything else in here he’d need as Jace knocked on the door. His brother frowned at Alec’s frantic state. “Isabelle says you're going into the woods to pick some flowers? Come on, Alec, that’s a stupid idea. We can’t risk losing you too.”

“I know, Jace. I’ll be safe and I’ll be back by nightfall. I won’t push myself unnecessarily today but you know that everything that has been tried hasn’t worked. I came back to try and help with finding a cure, and I’m willing to give this a shot.”

Jace sighed, “What can I help with? Izzy said you needed to see me.”

“I need you to stay here… and I need some weapons. Have you seen my bow recently?” He hadn’t taken it with him when he’d moved to Alicante — he only hoped that his siblings had hidden it and that his parents hadn’t done the unthinkable.

“You’re sure about this?” Jace asked as Alec nodded. “Alright...then I’ll get it and meet you outside.”

Isabelle was waiting with Flame’s reins in her hand. The chestnut thoroughbred stamped his feet impatiently, unhappy to be standing still as long as he had been. Jace joined them with Alec’s bow and a small collection of knives a few moments later.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” the blond muttered, handing Alec’s weapons to him one by one before holding the horse steady so that Alec could mount. “Reckless is my style, not yours.”

“I’ll stay close to home. I’ll be on my guard. You’ve crossed through the woods a time or two and lived to tell the tail. I may have moved to the city, Jace, but I’m not inept. Remember who taught you.”

“Oh, trust me, you never let me forget it. Just be careful, alright? There are supposed to be some things in those woods that would frighten even me.” Alec tilted his head in response and spurred his horse on towards the woods. He’d stick to the trail as long as he could, but instead of veering left and heading into town, he’d take the worn deer trail through the trees.

He reminded himself that he would take any chance at saving his people and his family — even if it meant venturing into the deep woods and confronting the dangerous creatures that were said to live inside.

When he said he’d try anything — he meant it in every sense of the word. He still didn’t entirely believe the myths and legends of the goblin men that were said to inhabit Edom Forest but the town’s elders seemed to believe they did truly exist and Alec was certain no one had thought to go to the monsters for a solution.

He’d told Jace and Isabelle of his intentions, but instead told his mother that he was heading into town. It wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d had to cross the bridge that would lead him to Idris before he’d reach the path that would take him off the road and into the forest. When the cobblestones ended, he was faced with an overgrown dirt path that seemingly led to nowhere. He pulled Flame to a brief halt and quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed before clicking him on and making his way into the woods.

His first impression of Edom Forest was that it wasn’t anything spectacular. He rode for two hours and noticed that the trees were like any other trees, the birds like any other birds, and there were certainly no trace of goblins in sight. He was beginning to think he’d been tricked by children’s tales when a scrap of color flapping in the wind caught his attention. He brought his horse to a halt.

It was a scrap of purple cloth with texture that Alec had never seen before. He’d never seen anyone in the town wearing anything this color either, as purple dyes tended to be expensive. If they were in the city, sure, but not here in Edom Forest. He left it fluttering where it was tied on the branch as he noticed another piece a little further down the path. If he strained his eyes, he could see a third splash of purple past that.

He had no way of knowing who had left these markers here or for what reason, but right now this was his best lead to finding the goblins in the woods. And like he kept telling himself, he was willing to try anything.

He could be met with swords,traps or wild animals. The goblins themselves might make an appearance. His people had no knowledge of what existed this deep into the woods outside of old wives’ tales and cautionary tales for children. Who knew what he would come across?

He took a deep breath and nudged his horse forward. The gelding hesitated for a moment — feeding off Alec’s own growing unease — before taking a few slow steps in the direction he’d been pointed towards, his head high and eyes wide the entire time.

Alec had certainly been expecting to find something after following the trail of purple scraps. What he hadn’t been expecting to find was a stray horse who was calmly grazing under a tall, oddly shaped Ash tree without a human in sight.

The stallion was solid black and soaking wet, like he’d been ridden hard despite the lack of tack or rider around him. Alec gently jumped from his horse’s back and took a few slow steps forward hoping that he didn’t spook the animal. “Whoa, boy. It’s alright.” He held his hand out gently and let the horse take a cautious sniff. “Surely, you aren’t out here alone.”

The horse’s nose touched the back of Alec’s hand gently. Alec took a moment to look him over. He was small...around 14 hands if he had to guess, and not much bigger than Max’s pony. There wasn’t a lick of white on him, and while his mane and tail were wet and slightly tangled, the rest of him was in good condition. The pony didn’t look like he’d been living rough — so he’d either just escaped or had dumped his rider and somehow escaped his tack. “Where’s your person? I can’t leave you out here like this.”

The horse huffed and nosed at Alec’s pockets. “Hey now, that’s enough. I didn’t exactly come out here prepared to take in a stray. I was looking for something else. I don’t suppose you’ve seen any goblins have you?”

“He likes you.” The voice that came from above startled Alec, and he took a step back from the mysterious horse to glance upwards. There was a man sitting on a thick branch about halfway up. With the sun behind him, Alec couldn’t see little more than that. The voice sounded amused though, and Alec had to wonder what the mystery man was doing this deep into the woods.

“How can you tell?” It was a stupid question, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself before the words had passed his lips. He should be asking for a name or providing his, not asking why the horse liked him. Not the smartest thing, he thought to himself.

“He hasn’t eaten you yet,” The man jumped gracefully to a lower branch before performing an elaborate flip for a dismount and landing steadily on his feet. “Kelpies have unusually sharp teeth, a taste for flesh and blood, and an attitude that would give even the haughtiest of lords a run for their money.”

Alec instinctively took a step back, which didn’t seem to phase the horse — kelpie, apparently — who continued to search Alec’s pockets for some sort of snack. “He doesn’t look like a kelpie.” As far as he was aware, kelpies weren’t real. Even if they were, the books said they were supposed to have seaweed in their manes and tales, backward hooves, and razor sharp teeth. This looked like a small, lightly built riding pony.

“And how many kelpies have you actually seen? They wouldn’t be very effective hunters if you could see what they are before they strike.” The other man replied, patting the horse on the shoulder affectionately. “I’m Magnus Bane. And who are you, handsome stranger?”

“Alec.” Now that the sun wasn’t casting a silhouette behind him, Alec could get a better look at the man. He was shorter than Alec, though his heeled boots gave him some height. His skin was the color of honey, his hair was dark with a streak of blue through it, and his eyes…

Alec lost himself in Magnus’ eyes. They were golden with slit pupils...quite like the cats that hung around the barn. And they were enough to tell Alec that the man wasn’t human — no human would have eyes like that.

“You’re a goblin,” Alec stuttered. The books hadn’t really said what the goblins looked like. He vaguely recalled something about a cat’s face and a rat’s tail...or was it furry and like a snail? Humans didn’t have cat’s eyes, though. Even if Magnus weren’t a goblin, he was certainly something different; and that was maybe, just maybe, another avenue that Alec could try for a possible cure.

It was only after he had these thoughts that he wondered if he should worry about his own safety. His hand went to the knife on his belt before he’d realized it.

Magnus hummed, watching the realization cross Alec’s face before he laughed. “Not quite. I’m only half. My father is but my mother was a mere human. Nothing goblin about her. In fact, if I had to guess she was from your town. Idris, am I right? Though, this was quite some time ago, well before you were ever around, pup.”

“How did that happen? And my name is Alec, not pup.” As far as Alec was aware, the goblins stayed deep inside the forest and the people of Idris were told to avoid them. They hadn’t actually been seen in years. Many of the younger people thought they were nothing more than a myth. Alec certainly hadn’t believed in them. Until now, that was. It was hard not to believe when reality was staring you in the face with cat’s eyes, a wisp of blue hair, and a sharp look.

“How do you think?” Magnus replied, fishing around in his bag for an apple. “‘We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits, who knows upon what soil they fed, their hungry thirsty roots.’ That’s how it went...I think. It’s been a while since I’ve read it. Books aren’t exactly easy to come by out here.” He took a bite and held the rest out towards the kelpie.

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid question.” Alec knew which poem Magnus was referencing. He had run across the poem during his research but he’d passed it over as nothing more than a cautionary tale for children. Maybe he should have paid more attention.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it...and you didn’t know any better. How many dashing half-goblins have you ever met in your life?” Magnus winked and Alec felt a blush rise across his face.

“You’d be the first.”

“And what are you doing out in the middle of the woods looking for goblins, my lord? Aren’t you humans warned of the dangers you could find? I’m pretty sure that poem specifically mentioned all the terrible things that could happen to a fair maiden.”

Alec snorted, and continued to rub his hand down the kelpie’s nose. “Well, for one I’m not a fair maiden, nor am I a lord actually, and to answer your question: I was hoping to hunt down a lead on the illness that’s currently plaguing the village.”

“And you think the goblins are to blame?” Magnus’ voice had been playful before, but now his words took a cutting tone.

“No, of course not,” Alec replied hastily, holding up his hands in surrender. “We’ve co-existed, sort of, for a while now. As far as I know, nothing has changed in that regard. I’m just…” he sighed and glanced back towards the direction he knew his parents’ house to be. “I’m hoping for answers, I’m willing to try anything at this point. They’ve called physicians from the city, a psychic or two, a hedge witch...the people who have fallen ill are good people. They don’t deserve what’s befallen them. I found a book in our collection last night. It’s got some herbs in it...so I made a list. I’m no expert but it can’t hurt to try.”

He chose to leave out that some of those people were only mostly good — his father certainly wasn’t the best man, but there was no reason Magnus needed to know that. Not yet.

“I haven’t heard of a disease in the village, but I wouldn’t go looking towards the goblins for a cure. They aren’t the most helpful of people — they’re more liable to cause you harm than anything close to help.” Magnus tapped his finger against his chin in thought. “An illness you say? You humans are susceptible to so many things. There was a plague about a hundred years ago if I recall. What makes you think it isn’t something like that?”

“Well, for one thing no one has actually died,” Alec replied as Magnus circled him slowly, feeling every bit like a deer cornered by a leopard. “It starts with a fever. Eventually, confusion. Finally, they fall into a deep sleep. And…” His voice trailed off. That did make it seem like a normal illness but Alec knew there was more.

“And?” Magnus had stopped circling him to lean against the tree with his arms crossed.

“Their skin gets hard. It feels almost like stone? I know that probably sounds stupid. I just don’t know how else to explain it.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” the half-goblin replied. “Magical illnesses can have all sorts of weird side effects. A friend of mine once turned prickly.” There was a pause as he looked Alec over once more.“You said you had a list?” Magnus asked finally, pulling on a purple tailcoat that had been discarded haphazardly behind the tree. “Can I see?”

Alec pulled it out of his bag and handed it over to him. “You’d help me find these? You think this might be caused by magic?”

“Magic, a curse, anything is possible but if you’ve tried as many cures as you say you have then it’s probably safe to assume that it’s something your people haven’t seen before. Ergo, magic.” Magnus read over the piece of parchment with a frown. “Some of them are out of season and others aren’t in this part of the woods but I can show you where to find the majority.” He glanced around before a smile crossed his face that had Alec’s heart flipping. The half-goblin bent down and plucked a small purple and yellow flower from the ground in front of Alec. “Heartsease. Kiss-Me-Quick. Banewort...also known as a wild pansy. It’s good for skin conditions and colds. I believe that’s on your list.”

Alec felt a blush rise in his cheeks as he took the flower. Why on earth was being handed a single flower by a strange (but beautiful) man he just met affecting him this way? “Thanks,” he managed to stammer after a moment. He gently wrapped the flower in a cloth and placed it in his bag.

Magnus’ eyes twinkled as he grabbed a lock of the kelpie’s mane and hoisted himself on it’s back. “I saw some Meadowsweet earlier this morning. It isn’t far and I wouldn’t mind collecting some myself. It’s good for pain.” He glanced back at Alec with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming?”

Alec had never mounted a horse faster in his life.

----------

“Do you even know what you plan on doing with these?” Magnus asked as they wove their way through a dense and varied forest.

“The book had some suggestions,” Alec started, frowning as they passed by a group of trees with large, bell-shaped yellow flowers. “Though I’m by no means an expert. I went to school for architecture, not herbalism.” He pulled his horse to a halt and reached out to touch one of the flowers that was now hanging eye-level with him. “I’m sorry — is this Angel’s trumpet? I thought it only grew in the tropics.”

Magnus laughed. “Or Devil’s trumpet, depending on who you ask, and I wouldn’t mess with it. It’s not exactly safe. Well, it’s not necessarily poisonous to touch but I still wouldn’t mess with it. It's hallucinogenic, among other things...and I don't think a bad trip was really what you had in mind when you came out here today.”

“And how’s it growing in the middle of Edom Forest? If it’s that dangerous I would feel much better if it grew far, far away where the weather is much more suited to it?” He nudged Flame until he was level with the kelpie.

Magnus merely laughed. “That’s the beauty of magic, my dear Alexander. There’s no rhyme nor reason to it. Anything can happen.” He raised his hand as blue sparks danced around his fingertips. “Haven’t you ever noticed that it never snows in the woods? You’ll have three feet out there and yet, not a flake falls here. It’s warm and sunny year round.”

As he said that, Alec realized that he hadn't noticed. He’d never paid much attention to the woods since they were forbidden to go there, but it wouldn’t take a genius to see that the weather was entirely different a few feet away.

“Don’t look too distressed,” Magnus chuckled upon seeing the face that Alec was making. “There’s all sorts of spells and old magic around. Spells that grew into the very trees, wards set by goblins past and re-set by goblins present...other magical creatures whose very existence spells safety to those who live around them. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been purposefully trying to look through the magic. The Look-Not spells surrounding the woods are strong.”

Wait, Alec thought as he kicked his horse into a trot to catch up with Magnus and the kelpie. “What other magical creatures? I thought it was just the goblins that lived in the woods? Well, I guess the goblins and the half-goblins.”

“It may have started with the goblins but it certainly didn’t end with them.” Magnus stopped a moment later, sliding off the back of his horse to kneel in front of a grassy plant with yellow flowers. “Toadflax. This was on your list as well, I believe. It’s good for treating rashes and the like. You make it into a compress using milk. I hope the specifics are in your book. This is more my friend’s area of expertise than mine.” He handed the flower to Alec who wrapped it gently in more white cloth and placed it in his bag.

“What’s your area of expertise then? And you still haven’t answered my question. What other creatures?”

“My area of expertise is magic itself, of course. I’m uniquely qualified to be good at magic,” Magnus replied as butterflies made of blue energy danced around them.

“And what makes you qualified?” Alec asked, crossing his arms. “Are all goblins this cryptic?”

Magnus laughed, “I’m not being cryptic, I’m being coy...and I can’t tell you all my secrets on the first date — no matter how pretty you are.”

Alec huffed as another blush rose on his cheeks. “This isn’t a date...but fine, how about you elaborate on the other magical creatures thing then? I don’t like finding out that everything I’ve ever known about a place is false.”

The goblin studied him for a moment before he nodded. “Very well. Once we put the spells and the wards up to stop the needless death that was happening at the time, humans were driven to stay away. It was the only thing that we could do to keep ourselves safe without being driven out of our home. Because we were now safe from humans, the other creatures that were hunted for merely being creatures of magic began to take refuge here as well.”

Magnus chose not to mount back up so Alec slid from his horse’s back as well. They walked in silence for a moment before the half-goblin turned around. “Actually, it’s quite curious that you got through. You should have wanted to turn tail as soon as you got too close.”

“I was uncomfortable,” Alec said after a moment, recalling the sense of dread that had washed over him before he’d guided his horse off the path. “But I’d do anything to help my family...even if that means taking a risk I’m not necessarily meant to take.”

Magnus had stopped again, this time in front of a fluffy, white, flowering weed. “The promised Meadowsweet. It’s typically made into a tea or an elixir. Pick your poison. Well, not poison but I’m sure you catch my meaning.”

Alec collected a few of the flowers as Magnus did the same. “I’m not sure that tea is going to do much good when the patients are unconscious.”

“You’ll have to try one thing at a time. Maybe treat the symptoms first until you have a better idea of the root cause...perhaps you’ll get lucky and by treating one you’ll learn more about another. Medicine, like magic, is a lot of trial and error.”

“Well, I’m certainly willing to try,” Alec said after a moment. He threw his bag over his horse’s withers and pulled himself into the saddle once more. “I seem to be the only one left willing to try. Everyone else seems to have given up. They’re getting ready to petition the king for some kind of miracle.”

Magnus hummed as he pulled himself onto the back of his own horse. “Well then, I suppose we better find a few more for you to try. It sounds like you don’t have any time to lose.”

Alec followed the half-goblin dutifully all afternoon, trying to remember each and every instruction he was given as he was handed plant after plant. Finally, the sun began to duck behind the treetops and Alec grimaced. “I best be getting back. If I don’t return before dark, my brother will send a search party. Trust me, we don’t want the kind of mess he tends to bring with him.”

“Fair enough,” Magnus replied with a smile. “I figured that would be the case. Your trail awaits, my lord.” He swept his arms towards the dirt path that Alec had taken when he’d first entered the woods this morning. He hadn’t even realized that they had circled back.

“Thank you for all your help today. I’m not certain I could have found any of these without you.” He probably wouldn’t have even managed to find one if Magnus hadn’t helped.

“It was no trouble at all — definitely an interesting way to spend an afternoon. The sight sure didn’t hurt either.” Alec blushed and Magnus plucked a single blue flower with a yellow star center off the ground and held it out to him.

“What’s this one supposed to do?” Alec asked as he took the flower and twirled it gently in his fingers.

“Absolutely nothing. I just think it’s pretty. Good luck playing doctor, Alexander.” With that, he turned his horse and trotted back into the woods, leaving Alec standing in the trail alone.

----------

My Dearest Cabbage,

I’ll preface this by saying that yes, I do know exactly what you’re going to say after reading my letter so I will save you the hassle of a fire message in response.

Yes, what I did was incredibly stupid and reckless. Trust me, I’m well aware but you know how I do so love a good enigma.

It seems some sort of mysterious and possibly magical illness is plaguing the citizens of Idris. They’ve apparently tried all sorts of methods to heal their sick to no avail.

No, I haven’t been taking a risky trip into the city. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson there. One of their people somehow managed to get through the protections and spells in the forest and came looking for plants that could potentially be used to treat the disease.

I have my doubts that any will work for him, but I sent him home with some regardless.

Could our wards be fading? No mere human should be able to pass over the border. We should meet sometime soon to check that the spells still hold strong. They are all that are standing between us and the people of Idris.

I’ll keep you advised if I receive any more information.

Delightfully yours,

M.B.

#shmb2021 #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic #like a lily in a flood

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adventuresloane · 3 years

Text

The Wanted (Revised Hurloane Fic) - Chapter 1

Summary:

"They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them. Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short 'n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids."

Hurley's a bounty hunter, the Raven is an outlaw, and the desert is a lonely place.

(The 50k+ Old West Hurloane AU Where Hurley Becomes A Thief Too that no one asked for. Updates every Friday. Edited and reposted from an old version of the story--more significant changes to come in later chapters. T for non-graphic violence and discussions of death/injury/trauma.)

Read on AO3

They had nearly as many names as they had stories told about them.

Ram. Raven. Red. Devil. Deputy. Outlaw. Short 'n Long. Ghosts of the Rapids.

What happened to them depends on who you ask. Some say the Raven twisted the Ram, but then again, the Ram might have been born with badness in the marrow of their bones. They say the outlaw was a thief, that her glittering horde still lies somewhere out in the desert among the canyons. They say the deputy was a sharpshooter with twenty notches on their pistol, one for every man who tried to take them. They say they were very much in love.

Maybe they still are. People who camp alone by the river say at night, they hear too-loud whispers over the rush.

If you ask the only man who was there that day, he'll tell you the same thing every time, and nothing more: "They went over the cliff and into the river. Never found the bodies."

He won't tell you whether they were dead before they hit the water. He won't even tell you whether they were shot at all. Maybe, as some say, the two of them just tipped, hand-in-hand, falling backwards over the edge together as children let themselves fall into soft grass.

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

"I don't give a rat's ass what Bane said. She so much as looks at me wrong, I'm shooting."

Hurley heard the murmuring and looked over their shoulder. The two men were lagging, their mounts clopping along at a lackadaisical pace. Barbra and Lil' Jerry rode side-by-side and leaned toward each other in their saddles as they spoke in what could charitably be called a whisper. Hurley slowed their own horse a bit to get closer and listen.

"Yeah, as if you'd live long enough to press the trigger," Lil' Jerry snickered in response. "You couldn't outdraw a tin can."

"Oh, fuck off! I take care of myself fine."

"Ah, whatever."

"Besides, I'll have my gun drawn the whole time we're giving chase. I'm not taking chances on this one. You've heard the stories. Even saw the blood in one of those train cars that one time, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Lil' Jerry muttered.

"Everyone's quicker on the trigger when they know their gun's the only thing between them and the Big Sleep," Barbra declared. "That's just survival instinct."

"That poor Abernathy fuck wasn't. Quicker, that is."

"That doesn't mean you just wave a gun around if there's nothing in sight to shoot," Hurley piped up. They took more than a little satisfaction in how the two men looked at them, first with surprise and then with frustration, as if they'd really thought they were getting away with something.

"We weren't talking to you."

"You might as well have been. You were loud enough. Bane told us we have to start moving quietly. The Raven's probably in this area."

"Trust you to do whatever he tells you." Hurley bristled as Lil' Jerry went on, "This is only your first time out, so we don't need you telling us what to do with our mouths or our guns."

"I know my way around a gun just fine, and you know tha--"

"All of you," said a deep voice, causing Hurley to stop instantly, "would be better off if you paid more attention to what's around you instead of whatever bullshit you're going on about."

Hurley said, "Sorry" while the boys behind them mumbled the word vaguely. At once, they prompted their horse to pick up speed and catch up with Bane as he led the way.

When they had been riding alongside him for a few minutes, he leaned their way a little. "Though I would say," he started conspiratorially, "having seen both of you at target practice, I trust you to point a pistol the right way quite a bit more than I trust Barbra."

They snickered a little. "I'd hope so, Sheriff."

"You've got a head on your shoulders, even if you've got to be reminded to use it now and again." They looked down and smiled a little sheepishly, though the way he said it made it sound more compliment than critique. "The problem is that anyone can take a look at a thousand-dollar 'wanted' poster and suddenly decide they're a bounty hunter. They try to be heroes.”

"I don't suppose a lot of bravado does you much good out here."

"Oh, no, it can. You need to be tougher in the face of some damn tough criminals. Another reason I think you'll be good to have around." He was grinning. "But the people who come in guns blazing are also the ones who turn tail the quickest when things get to be too much for them."

"You won't have that problem with me, sir."

"No, I don't think I will. I've known you long enough to know you're here because you want to put things right. I think you and I could do that back at home, too."

"It needs it. Goldcliff's broken, if you ask me."

"Hey, now, that's my town you're talking about."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean it that way. It's just I've seen so many people there try to cheat and hustle and steal ever since I came there, and now this...murdering a man on his own doorstep in the middle of the afternoon." They shook their head. "I can't stand it."

"You don't have to. You can help stop it if you want."

"I do. And I think I'll have a much better chance of doing it with you and the law. No more of me challenging cheaters to tavern fights to sort them out," they said with a small laugh. "Thank you again, by the way, for letting me come out here with you."

He nodded before turning to address the whole group. "We're about to enter the canyon. Be careful how you go, now. It echoes in there."

Their heart began to bounce inside their chest as they thought of facing their quarry. Their horse sped up to a trot.

“Hurley.”

They looked behind them to find a stern-faced Bane and a posse that had stopped moving altogether. Trying to swallow down the blush working up their face, they got back in line behind Bane.

The four moved single-file as they made their way downward. By the time they reached the bottom, there was still no activity, not so much as a lizard skittering through the grit on the ground. Quiet filled up the gaps between the stone walls, washed over them like the long-dead rivers that had once carved out these canyons. All they could hear was the clacking of the horses' footfalls, thrown back at them louder.

At various points, Bane sometimes whispered, more often simply signalled with his hands for one of them to break off and explore another path. They would return empty-handed.

Now, Bane held up a hand for them all to stop. Hurley heard, then, just for a moment, the sound of hoofbeats that belonged to none of their rides. With the way sound played off the stone, they couldn’t determine how far it was.

It kept coming as none of them moved, noise bouncing and skipping off the walls like a mockery. Sometimes distant, sometimes nearer, sometimes seemingly next to their ears. The canyon was sinuous and full of unexpected branches and side-paths. They tried to pinpoint the source of the noises that seemed to come from everywhere, from out of the ether.

Or they did until a resounding bang interrupted. It made a couple of the horses spook and rear as it blasted apart the near-silence. This time, it wasn't hard to tell that it came directly from behind.

Everyone else turned to see Barbra holding the smoking gun, looking more shocked than anyone.

"For fuck's sake, Barb," Lil' Jerry muttered.

And then a flash of dark around a corner.

Their galloping set the whole place rumbling as they all shot off. Hurley’s horse nearly skittered on the sand several times as they whipped the reins sharply to the side. It was what was necessary to wind through the narrow passages that curled deeper and deeper into the canyon.

Whenever there was a widening of the path that might allow more than one horse through at a time, Hurley tried to shove past the others. They had to be up front. They could barely see anything past Bane, leading at the front and shouting things they couldn’t hear.

He grabbed his lasso as they came around one bend. There was nothing on his face except the same solid determination as usual, only sharpened.

The posse pulled around the corner and came to an instant halt, scraping hooves stirring sand. Hurley craned their neck to see the dead end at the end of this passage, a sheer wall of redstone. But no Raven.

Not until there was sound well behind the whole group as the dark form reappeared and shot off in the other direction.

"Dammit," he spat as he yanked the reins back hard and turned his horse around. "Stay together!"

Hurley kept pace with the rest of the group, until they didn't. By degrees, they drew their horse back into a canter, then a slow trot. As expected, the others were too fixated on their path to notice that they were losing Hurley, as they leaned low over the manes of their galloping animals. The posse twisted around a sharp corner and out of their sight.

You're thinking with your belly again, they heard their mother say, while she poked the round ball of their seven-year-old tummy.

None of them were about to outpace the Raven while she stayed three turns ahead of them. She knew the canyon, maybe so well that she knew where her pursuers were just by hearing the echo of them along the red stone walls. But if just one of them could out-maneuver...

They bid their horse to turn around and move at a quiet walk. This was not a betrayal of Bane's orders, they convinced themself. Not really, anyway. Maybe he had told them to keep up with the group, but surely the higher order was to find the thief. If they did that, he could forgive the unconventional methods.

And they would do it.

They started to pick their way through the tangle of paths. The Raven had traveled back this way, running in front of the posse, only to disappear around a bend and re-emerge behind them all. This, perhaps, was where a number of the narrow natural trails converged. They might part only to circle back and rejoin each other elsewhere. If that were true, she would be likely to stay near the place where she had a number of exit routes. This was where she expected she'd be safe.

They chose their directions nearly at random, only knowing that they wanted to roughly parallel the path that their team had been taking before. They could meet up with them and maybe head the Raven off, if they could only keep track of where the others might be. They went left, left again, right. When they reached a slot-like passage in the rock face too narrow for a horse, they bit their lip, then dismounted and left the gelding behind as they sidled sideways through.

Occasionally, the others' calls and the pounding of their horses' hooves would come to Hurley, and they would stop to hear more. By then, though, the echoes would have already receded. They still had no way of knowing where the source of the sounds could be found--they got bounced around and lost in the network of paths until they seemed entirely disembodied. They might as well have been the chattering of specters wafting their way through the cavernous, lonely canyon. Right, left. No route here was distinct from the rest. For all they knew, they were wearing circles into the sand.

Right, right again, and then, suddenly, no further. They pulled themself back behind a boulder and instinctively clapped a hand over their mouth. It was some time before they were able to make themself crane their neck back around, to determine whether they had seen what they'd thought they'd seen.

From behind, they saw a figure sitting atop her steed. Long black duster turned sepia by the caked-on dust of the desert and a wide-brimmed, jet bolero with a sharp feather sticking up straight from the hatband. She was still. Just waiting.

Their mouth felt dry. At some point, they realized that it was gaping open, and they snapped it shut. The clack of their teeth sounded far too loud in their mouth.

They took a single step around the large stone that they hid behind. The half-elf's ears swiveled around and moved to pick up on sound. They seemed to fixate on nothing, though. Certainly, she didn't look Hurley's way as they gripped the long rope and positioned it in their hands. Their every movement was measured now. With every scrape of the rough hemp coil against their fingers, they felt certain that she would turn around, but she didn't. Another step, placed on the ground deliberately. The sand did not crunch beneath them.

From where they stood behind the boulder, they did not have a clear shot at her, but they did not dare step out fully into the open. They could still get her, though. They would still get her. It probably should have been fear that sent the eager blood blazing through them--the fear that she would see them and be gone in an instant, the fear that they would be gone in an instant when she spun to blow them away--but that wasn't it. This was the familiar thrill of the final blow and the bullseye. It ran through them whenever they knew they were about to prove what they could do. They clenched their lasso as the world shrunk to what was right in front of them. What was right in front of them was an opportunity.

They threw. The Raven had a half-second to look at the loop that had snapped tight around her ankle before Hurley pulled with all they could, and down she went to the ground. When she impacted, it was with a choked noise that might have been a yell, had the wind not been punched out of her lungs.

They almost wanted to cheer as her horse spooked and ran off.

But then they turned to look at just what it was they had caught. The figure at the end of their tether lay on her back for several moments, unmoving. For a moment, they wondered if she had been stunned by a blow to the head. They saw that, certainly, she was still hurting from the way her spine had slammed into the baked-hard earth. Low, creaking groans came from the back of her throat along with her exhales.

Suddenly, as though startled awake, her eyes snapped wide open to the sky. She scrambled to push herself onto her elbows and look at the place where her ride had been, then spun her whole body around to face Hurley.

There was a bandana tied around her face, black and patterned with feathers, puffing out slightly with every breath. It covered up everything except her eyes, but the eyes were enough. Now unshielded by the hat that had fallen from her head, they snatched Hurley's gaze and held it tight. They were big, for one thing, and youthful, with the cool-toned brown skin around them unlined. What hit them, though, was how they went wide and got wider, caught bare and off-guard. Like they took in everything and understood none of it. Disbelief at being brought down so far and so fast.

They matched her gaze. They might have been smiling. Hurley liked making people believe they could do things previously thought impossible.

The Raven's eyes flitted down to the rope around her foot twice, the first time almost as an afterthought, the second with a look of mounting rage, and it occurred to Hurley just then that they had not really restrained her much at all. They tightened their grip on the lasso just as she went to stand and yanked so that she could not get her footing. She fell back onto her butt with an indignant grunt and tried again. They pulled again, becoming more aware all the while that they were just bringing her closer to them.

That was when the sound returned to them like rocks tumbling over each other. Both they and the Raven turned just in time to see Barbra and Jerry come riding up, and for possibly the first time ever, Hurley was relieved to see them both. It was just seconds before each of them tossed a rope around her torso and pinned her arms to her sides. She squirmed against the bonds for a few moments and then went still, glaring between the three of them there. That was that.

A fine thread of blood had begun to trickle out from beneath her hairline, barely skirting her eye, where she could not wipe it away. It ran all the way down to her neck. Hurley's doing. They were about to step forward when they felt a large hand press down on their shoulder.

"So you lost us a horse, it seems."

Hurley looked up in surprise, but Bane had a warm grin for them, the kind that let a person in on a joke. They smiled back, probably more broadly than they strictly needed to. "Still glad you brought me along?"

"Well, had you been a little worse at this job than I thought you'd be, you would've gone off and done something stupid and not gotten anywhere." He gave them a couple of firm pats. "But turns out, you're just as good as I thought you'd be. Better, considering you got the Raven on your first try."

"I wasn't expecting it either," they laughed.

He chuckled lightly, and then they watched him turn his attention to the captive in front of him. Barbra had her by the back of her collar and had already pulled her up to her knees. A bit of her hair was caught in his fist.

"She's younger than I thought," Hurley commented.

He gave the thief an assessing look. "Not more than a year or two younger than you, I'd say. I don't see outlaws too much older than this, quite frankly. They tend to live fast and die faster."

"I guess so," they mumbled mostly to themself as they watched Bane walk over to her. The boys weren't easing up on the lassos, and already her breathing was shallower as her chest tried to expand against the rope.

He didn't tell them off for it, though. Instead he stepped close to her so that the tips of his boots nearly touched her knees. He cast her into shadow as he stood over her, making her lean back in order to match his gaze. Then, with a forefinger and thumb, he gripped the mask around her face and pulled it down in one motion. They saw all of her hard countenance now. A pale scar ran over the bridge of her nose, another down across her lips in a perfect vertical.

With the same hand that had felt warm and strong on Hurley's shoulder a moment ago, he suddenly grabbed her jaw. His fingers pressed into the skin of her cheek, his thumb dug into the bone beneath her ear. They released a minute gasp. They could see it from where they stood, how he kept squeezing as though to wring something out of her, which perhaps he did when her mouth was forced open a bit.

"So that's what you look like," he said coolly. "You'll really get your picture in all the papers now, isn't that right?"

Her expression stayed hard and solid as stone. Her lower jaw was gritted and jutted. Hurley didn't know how she wasn't even trying to pull away. How she stood it rather than trying to whip her head out of his grasp. That was what they would have done, they thought.

"Bind her hands and arms both." He dropped his hand, finally. "And make sure those knots are damn tight. She's been known to try sneaking off."

This was the only time she fought, really. Jerry came up behind her, and she glanced backwards, gritted her teeth, got one of her feet underneath her and tried to stand before being shoved back to the ground. Bane was over there and assisting before it even occurred to Hurley that they might help their posse. A hand on her bent back, right at the vertebra where the neck met the spine. She kept struggling as her arms were crossed behind her, with each wrist bound against the opposite elbow. It was only when Barbra pulled back on the rope hard enough to make her wince that she stopped. That left her leaning over a little. Her chest and the muscles of her belly worked hard on every rasping inhale. Her breathing stayed heavy and open-mouthed when she was half-pulled and half-kicked to her feet and started walking behind the horses as they moved in the direction of their base camp.

Hurley walked too, though Bane offered more than once to let them ride on his horse while he walked awhile. On the way, they kept turning back to look. The Raven just went and went. She drove her gaze into the ground like a plough and hardly moved or lifted it, except to glare when she felt an extra tug on the ropes around her torso. Other than that, she looked almost listless. Concussed, maybe, they thought. But she wasn't uncoordinated or struggling to focus. She simply didn't react.

It wasn't until they got back to their base camp that she showed some resistance. Hurley saw as she finally picked her head up and watched while Barbra opened the padlocked back door to the wagon, with its couple of small, square, barred windows. She hesitated before the wide dark opening, tried to take a couple steps back even as she was pulled forward. But it didn't matter. Barbra yanked and Lil' Jerry shoved and Hurley saw her look backward over the boys' heads, at something far away, before the door closed and locked on her again.

They stared for a bit longer before shaking their head. "I can go untie her for you while she's in there, Sheriff--"

"No," he said even as they started stepping forward. "It'll be good for tiring her out a bit if she stays like that for awhile."

"But that's dangerous," they responded without waiting a beat.

"It's only for a few hours, Hurley. It won't hurt anything."

They tried to keep from gaping at him. "It'll definitely hurt. It probably hurts now."

There was a force and urgency in their voice that they heard too late. He half-turned his head towards them, just enough that they could see the widening of his eye and the raising of his brow. "Hurley, you caught an outlaw on your first go, and that's to be commended, but you're still new to all of this. I've been here plenty of times. Trust me when I say I know what to do here." He nodded towards said outlaw, now unseen behind the door. "You suppose we were too rough?"

"I..." They bit the inside of their cheek. Hurley was included in that "we." Only one of them among the group, after all, had made the Raven bleed. "I just think we shouldn't do anything unnecessary."

"And I agree," he said almost somberly. "I try not to, unlike some people. If another group of bounty hunters had gotten her, she likely would've been beaten by now. That's if they bothered trying to bring her back alive at all."

They shivered a little. The cold here came on fast in the evenings.

"I call them one-person juries, people that just go out to kill or punish. It's a sorry state of affairs. She's lucky." He said it as though the sentence were a conversation ender.

It wasn't, in their mind. They weren't convinced that this got a pass just because other posses were far worse, and they were about to tell him as much, but only got as far as saying, "But, Sheriff--" before he brought them to a halt again.

"Hurley," he said. The word was a quiet warning. "Let yourself learn first."

They stared at him even after he turned around to walk away. For a long time, they stood dumbly and watched his back as he strode back towards the fire pit.

Again, this was not disobedience, they told themself as they covertly unlocked the wagon door while the others ate dinner a ways off. Bane said he wanted to bring his prisoners back alive? Then they were going to make sure this one stayed alive, whether he liked it or not.

The late amber light struggled in through the tiny windows, getting caught up in the smoky dust that rose from the floor. It was just bright enough to see the way the Raven lifted her hanging head, letting the long black hair fall away from where it covered her cheek. Without turning their way, she let her gaze slice across them.

After far too long of a pause, they opened with, "Hello," since it seemed like as good an introduction as any.

Behind the airtight line of her mouth, they could tell, her teeth were gritted. They could almost hear the scrape of them.

"That looks uncomfortable," they continued, stepping forward, because the alternative was going backwards, which they never did. "I'll get those ropes off of you if you'll let me."

They kept coming towards her until they saw her pulling her leg back slowly, winding up for a kick. "Hey. Easy." They took another small step forward, still out of her strike range. Their voice did not rise above a murmur. "Easy. There's no catch here, I promise. I'm still going to have to chain your ankles, but I'll untie you so you can move around. You just have to let me, please."

When they kept walking forward, nothing in her changed, including the intensity of her glare. But she didn't seem primed to kick them anymore either, which was good enough for them.

She tracked their every motion, twisting her neck around to look at them over her shoulder as they went to undo the knots at her wrists. When their fingers brushed hers, she flinched, curled her hands up into fists. But they didn't miss the long sigh and slumping of her shoulders when the bonds fell away, the way her eyes shut slowly.

They moved so that they were back in front of her and saw, without a moment to spare, the way she eyed the key to the cuffs that had just been locked around her legs. They pulled back the hand that held it just as she swiped at it, catching only the air. Well, that escape attempt had taken all of thirty seconds for her to concoct. The three-day journey back to Goldcliff would be exciting.

"Nice try," they commented. They dropped the key into their breast pocket and reached for their canteen. "Do you want water?"

She looked at it like it was the first she had ever seen. When they held it out a little further to her, though, she brought her gaze back to them and kept it there. It didn't move away even as she took the metal container from them and unscrewed the cap. They thought, finally, that they saw something else other than the bitterness in her, even if it wasn't gone. Her head was angled curiously, to eye them as though she were looking through a keyhole.

"I'm Hurley, by the way. I know you didn't ask, which was a bit rude, but I thought if you needed--"

"It's not going to work."

They stopped. In an instant, her lips had become stretched thin into a tight smile. It stayed unchanged on her face even as Hurley searched it for answers. She didn't open her mouth, but still she laughed a low, heavy laugh, dredged up like phlegm.

"What's not going to wo--"

She held up a finger to halt them as she brought up their canteen to her mouth and tipped her entire head back. They lost count of how many swallows she took, but they did wonder whether she was remembering to breathe. Finally, she pulled it away with a loud, refreshed exhale and tossed it back into their lap, half as heavy. "You," she began, casually wiping her mouth, "are trying to make this easier on yourself. You think if you throw me a bone or two I'll be docile and not give you any trouble while you're dragging me off to prison. Well, go fuck yourself, little Red." She dragged out the last sentence like she had all day to say it. Her voice had a sing-song tilt like a head rocking from side to side, slathered in mock sweetness.

They stayed sitting on their butt in front of her. Well. In all fairness, they didn't really know what else they should have expected. They ran a hand through the short puff of almost-auburn curls on the top of their head, of which they were suddenly quite conscious. "Fine, I'll go fuck myself," they mumbled. There was no truth to what she said, but they doubted there was any way to convince her of that. "Can I at least have your name, since I gave you mine? Though it seems like you forgot it already."

"My name is whatever you think it is, Red."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What have you heard me called? The Raven, I'm sure." She gave them a curl of her lips that was a smirk and a sneer and a snarl all at once. "What else?"

They matched her hard stare. "They call you Black Devil," they answered quietly.

She looked amused, but not surprised.

"You seem pretty nonchalant about all this."

"What? Getting harassed by people like you? Yeah, you could say I'm used to it."

They had to almost chuckle at that. "Harassment seems like a stretch. What did you expect anyway? You think people will just ignore the murder of an innocent man and an unbroken streak of robberies stretching from one end of the territory clear to the other? That's not the kind of thing you get away with forever. If not us, some other posse would've--"

"What did you say?"

For the second time, she brought them to a stop. While they had been speaking, the Raven had been staring at the spot of floor between her chained feet with slowly widening eyes. Her expression had gradually eroded into perplexion, her furrowed brow loosening into surprise. Now she turned to face Hurley directly.

They found their voice again. "What do you mean?"

"About the murder."

Her bewilderment was genuine. Hurley could not see how it could have been otherwise, with the way that she blinked fast, as though trying to clear her vision of sleep in the morning. But she should have known, at least, that the murder conviction was a possibility. "I said we can't just ignore it."

"Who..." The word came out cracked as her parched lips. She cleared her throat, then. She swallowed her spit and seemed to pull something back inside herself along with it, something that she had let spill out by accident. Her eyes didn't look quite so wild, even as she breathed more quickly. "So who do they say I killed?"

She hadn't a goddamn clue.

"Bank teller. A Mr. Miles Abernathy, from the First Bank of Goldcliff. He was killed during the burglary. A whole bunch of witnesses spotted someone with your description running from the place." They weren't sure if the last sentence was to inform the Raven or to give themself a reminder. "You don't remem--you didn't know?"

"Didn't hear that, no." She had been nodding along as they spoke, as though she were still learning how to nod.

"So you didn't do it?"

She acted as if she hadn't heard.

"Well..." They grasped at anything. "Well, if you didn't do it, that'll come out in the trial."

That brought her back, seemingly, to herself. Her eyes went cold and narrow again, squinting at more than seeing what was before her. "Get out," she muttered, not looking their way.

#hurloane #taz #taz balance #the adventure zone #the zone cast #taz fanfic #hurley #sloane #the wanted #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #western au

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an-intronerd · 4 years

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thoughts on jaskier (+ geraskier) post episode 6: rare species

this was honestly supposed to be a teeny little rant but like, my hands grew minds of their own.

...

ok, so like, i recently binged the witcher (and i’m one of those people who has not yet read the books and never played the games, so going in, i had no idea who these characters were or what their dynamics in the other medias were like or anything) and next thing you know, i’m drowining in the geraskier fandom.

as one does, i’ve seen a lot of geraskier content, including fics and the like, and one idea that’s always there is that jaskier is this heartbroken, sullen, pining thing after the Big Fight. like, 98% of what i’ve seen or read has sad!jaskier. and like, the general plot is always like

jaskier is sad that geralt yelled mean things at him.

jaskier sings heartbroken love songs.

jaskier runs into geralt/geralt finds jaskier/somehow these two meet again.

geralt is a dick/geralt feels bad but is emotionally constipated so he doesn’t know how to use words to apologize/geralt saves jaskier’s life.

geralt and jaskier make up because jaskier knows how to read his witcher’s emotions and forgives him. optional: they bang.

the end.

and its like, people aren’t perfect?? i think that’s a little unrealistic. and yes, fanfiction can be like that sometimes, because it’s what we want to happen. but like, imagine this:

jaskier going through the 5 stages.

jaskier goes down the mountain, leaving geralt behind. what else can he possibly do?

jaskier spends a few nights wasted and crying because hey, guess what, the love of his life for the better part of two decades is a gaint wart-covered dick. he’s sad about it, sue him.

jaskier decides fuck this, his witcher is a piece of shit and though he is by no means the best person on the planet, he is at least good enough to deserve better than what geralt gave him. or well, was incapable of giving him.

jaskier decides he will move on, and it’ll start with him getting out of this mountainside village and heading to one of the first places where he truly found himself, oxenfurt. afterall, music has been and will always be the one constant and greatest pleasure in his life.

it takes time, but jaskier perseveres. he gets over his denial pretty quickly. he will not believe geralt didn’t care for him at all. he knows that’s an insult to both of them. geralt cared in his own way. thats the truth. unfortunately, the other, much harsher truth is that it wasn’t enough. so, no geralt won’t be coming for him, and jaskier won't be waiting around.

anger is a bit harder to get over. once it truly sets in, it’s all jaskier can do not to hunt down that fucking white wolf and tear him a new one. jaskier is a person, he is a human with feelings, and that damned witcher had no right to treat him like the scum at the bottom of his shoe. if it wasn’t for jasker, geralt would still be run out of every other town he came across, stoned and bloody. he’d probably have died in a puddle of his own blood fifty times over by now, considering all the times jaskier had to patch him up. that ungrateful prick. except, once he’s exhausted three supllies of parchment and written enough songs about the bitcher, (yes not his most creative insult but he’s too petty to care!) he knows none of that is remotely true. and he wants closure.

and that’s when bargaining hits him full force. all of a sudden, he just needs to see geralt one more time. once more great adventure and a song to go with it, one more meal shared, one more conversation, to see if geralt really ever cared. he needs to ask him, and have geralt verbally confirm or deny his doubts. he needs this, just once. one more time, he needs to see his witcher, and it’ll be enough. one more time. just once. he almost fails himself, on one lonely night. he knows he can’t, he doesn’t even know where he’d start looking but he’s drunk beyond the point where common sense dictates his actions, and he’s packed half his belongings... and he’s getting ready... to track down the white... wolf... he wakes up with a bitch of a hangover the next day, but he didn’t go after geralt. he knows deep down once will never be enough.

anger was tough, but depression was worse. it came for him like a siren in all her glory, drawing him in and in and in until he’s drowing and he didn’t even realise when that happened and then it’s too much, it’s too painful... he isn’t really surprised. he thrives on emotion, the good and the bad, it’s how he writes such brilliant ballads, he admits he hadn’t really delved into his own feelings about geralt yet. he hadn’t dealt with all the heartbreak follwing the mountain, and maybe he should have done so earlier, but he doesn’t think it matters. his heart wasn’t going to hurt any less months earlier when the wounds were still fresh. and though they may have closed up over time, the phantom pain is always with him. there are days where all he can do is curl up under his blankets and sob. some days he goes without eating a single morsel, finds himself lightheaded from dehydration, not leaving his bed for anything more than to relieve himself. some days, he flips through old songbooks, filled with twenty-odd years of adventure, both the fun and the dangerous kind, and laughter and frustration, companionship and solidarity... what was it he used to say? death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak. words of a lifetime past. some days, he compartmentalizes and sets all that aside in a little box in his mind and goes about his day as if he isn’t weighed down by the constant weight of his loss. it’s almost too much, but he’ll manage, he tells himself. he doesn’t let himself think of what he would do if he can’t.

it’s a cloudless day outside, and he’s in the market for new writing materials, and he’s going over next week’s lesson plan in his head, when he’s hit with the sudden realization that he hasn’t thought about geralt in a while. he’s thinking of him now, sure, but that doesn’t count because he’s thinking of how he’s not thinking of him, it’s a totally different thing, and oh- it doesn’t ache as much as it used to. he feels lighter than he has in a while, and he doesn’t know how that happened, or when, but he’s... okay.

that’s the thing about healing, it happens whether you realise it or not, you just have to give ypurself a chance. it’s pontless to hold on to the negative feelings because you’re trying to hold on to something or someone that isn’t there anymore or maybe never really was. he didn’t know when it happened, but. the bitterness that accompanied the memories of geralt’s last words is no longer there. neither is the anger. there’s a dull sadness, but mostly it’s resignation and a sort of comfortable if lonely acceptance that geralt is gone. but there’s also a bittersweet understanding that jaskier will always love him. the history they shared isn’t erased because of a few angry words. jaskier will have, if nothing else, a lifetime full of moments and memories. if he sees geralt again, it will no longer be with a vision clouded in pain or anger or sadness, but rather a deep-seated love and forgiveness. he will let geralt decide now what they will be to each other. but he will not accept anything less than what he is worth. he will not be geralt’s punching bag. if geralt wants to have a relationship with him again, it will be one of equals, the bard and the witcher. if he wants to go their seperate ways, well, jaskier will live content like that too.

he’s moved on.

sometimes, moving on doesn’t mean finding someone else. sometimes, it means mending your own heart, piece by broken piece, and then tucking it away safely inside, giving it a chance to heal. it’s about making that very difficult choice to let go of the bad that you’re holding on to, because it’s a way of holding on to the person you lost. it’s about finding yourself again, and who you were before the pain and heartbreak, and, figuring out who you want to be now. i need more of that, because that’s real. that’s how i imigine jaskier would feel. he’s not perfect, and he has his ups and downs as all of us do, and he is angry at geralt and sad and broken but also he’ll pick himself up, because he was someone before geralt, too, and he’ll still be someone after geralt, not just the witcher’s bard. he doesn’t know who that is yet, but he’ll figure it out.

and because i’m at my core a geraskier + happy endings hoe:

geralt realises an important thing on that mountaintop. he has been running from destiny and anything real all his life. he needs to get his head out of his ass, and find ciri. clearly, he was destined to lose yen, and that’s happened, no matter how hard he tried to make it different. she’s destined to be his and he accepts that now, but everything else is up to him.

he finds ciri, and then, he’s a father. he vows to be a better parent than the one he had.

he finds yen, and they learn to be enough for each other without turning it into something more than a vague frienship. somewhere between a truce and a partnership. for ciri, they agree.

he returns to kaer morhen, to his family with his daughter and his yennefer in tow.

he realises that he has everything he could ever want, and more than any witcher ever gets, but there’s still something missing.

then he realises it’s his bard, the one person who wasn’t unwillingly tied to him because of some wish or destiny, someone who chose him every single time, and who he misses with such a fierce ache.

then he remebers how badly he fucked that up, and then yen tells him he’s a wart-covered, emotionally constipated dick, and dumb too, but hey thank god you finally got your head out of your ass long enough to realise that you miss your bard and you’re sorry for what you did and you love him, and geralt just goes what? yen, love? oh- okay so that’s what the constant turning of his stomach and insomnia is.

then he sets out to find his bard, and ciri asks if she’ll finally get to hear all those famous songs about geralt from the source, and he says he hopes so.

it doesn’t take him long to find his bard, now a professor at oxenfurt academy, and geralt thinks that makes perfect sense because where else would jaskier have gone but to one of the few bright bits of his youth?

he gets to oxenfurt and it’s a cloudless day, and there’s people millig about and he thinks he’ll head to an inn and give roach a well-deserved rest, and then his heart stops. because there is jaskier, exchanging coin for parchment, and he looks just as he did a year and a half ago, except less disappointed and more happy and his heart hasn’t beaten this fast since he was a child left on vesemir’s doorstep. he thinks of all the nights he’s been unable to sleep because he had gotten so used to the bard’s humming and how it had been the most soothing wordless lullaby. he thinks of his last words, and he feels his breath leave him, because jaskier had taken it to heart, and left him. he’d given geralt his one blessing, and geralt thinks that those words are something he will regret for as long as he is living. he gives himself a moment to wonder if perhaps he should leave jaskier to the life he’s created for himself, be unselfish for once and let jaskier remain happy and safe and free.

he should leave, though he knows that jaskier deserves so much more from him, an apology to start, and then a real friendsip, one tat goes both ways, and wow, geralt really is a wart-covered dick because he had treated jaskier so unfairly and he doesn’t undertsand why jaskier kept coming back to him, again and again. destiny hadn’t entwined their paths. jaskier chose to entangle them anyways. and he deserves so much more than geralt of rivia, and he should let jaskier have that, he should...

but he couldn’t walk away now, not when jaskier, his bard, his life-long friend, is standing right there, and jaskier turns, collecting his items and geralt stops breathing because jaskier looks over, and geralt watched the recognition flit over the bard’s face as he sees roach and then up, up, up, his eyes trace geralt’s form until.

their eyes meet, and jaskier smiles.

tl;dr: i just want more realistic portrayls of jaskier’s emotions after the Big Fight in episode 6, and i want to see jaskier go through all the feelings, and more depth to him that just some pining, heartbroken lump of a person. he’s more nuanced than that, i think.

p.s: a big part of this ended up being based on my own experineces with love and friendship, pain and hertbreak, and the process of moving forward despite it all. idk how much of that comes through, and i hadn’t really planned for this post to go in the direction that it did, but i like how it turned out. i’m still trying to figure out that tricky little thing about making the choice to let go, and writing this helped?

p.p.s: this ended up way, way, wayyyyy longer than i intended, oops? why do i do this lol

p.p.p.s: if fics like this actually exist, please feel free to tag me in them or send me links, i would adore you forever!

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #oh also #personal #lol why am i like this #the witcher #works and writings and other such musings

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storm-leviosa-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Leave the Ruins Where They Lie

So this is chapter 1 of my fic for @batfam-big-bang. I’ve had so much fun doing this project so thanks to the mods we love you guys!

Also massive thanks to my amazing artists and betas @fierovends, @butterflyslinky, @houser-of-stories, @bisexualoftheblade, @dariadraws, @annasartverse and @dragonbane805 You have been absolutely fantastic puttingup with all my chaos and I love you so much!

And with that we get to the actual fic.

Summary: When Tim finds out his parents' fortune is based in lies, he sets out with Stephanie Brown and Selina Kyle to set things right.

An AU in which the Drakes gained their fortune from the sale of stolen artifacts, Bruce hung up the cowl after Jason's death, and Tim is determined to return everything to its rightful place. In a world without Robin, Tim is still a hero at heart.

AO3 link here

[IMAGE ID: The image is a large, two story temple made of brick, with double columns every few feet. At the top of the temple is an elaborate stone fence circling the roof. The temple is crumbling, and vines and bushes crash through various windows. The top right half of the temple roof is covered in vines, and the left half of the image is also filled with the same vines. Surrounding the temple is dirt paths and patches of grass. The sky above is bright blue and filled with white puffy clouds. In the sky is the text "Leave the Ruins Where They Lie" written in black semi-cursive font. The text is split into two lines, with the first line ending after the word "Ruins". END ID]

Chapter 1

Tim first bumps into Steph at the library. He means this quite literally. It's approaching 6pm; the librarians are beginning to kick people out (including the scary red-haired lady in the wheelchair who’d told Tim where to find the books on spectroscopy last month), and he is racing to find the books he needs before they find him. He wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the useless idiots he'd been paired with for the group project who’d decided not to do the work even though it really was so easy, so now Tim has to do the whole of their final sophomore year US History project in like, two days and he is suffering. So here is Tim, racing between the shelves, looking for literally anything the library has on Nat Turner before it closes. And here is Stephanie, scrambling to finish just one more page before the librarian catches her.

Their resulting crash shakes the table, knocks a book to the floor, and sends Steph diving for her pen before it skitters under a bookshelf – lost forever to the little gremlins back there who eat dropped stationery. They stare at each other for a long second before they fling themselves apart. Tim mutters a sorry at the floor near Steph's feet and Steph flicks him a dismissive wave as she crams books and papers in her rucksack. He scans the shelves around her frantically, Nat Turner, Nat Turner, his mind repeats on loop and his mouth forms the words even as he hopes he makes no sound.

"You're in the wrong section. US History is that way," she tells him and points further down the aisle. Apparently he wasn't as quiet as he hoped. He thanks her anyway and scurries off in search of books. She crumples up a worksheet by accident and swears under her breath.

Five minutes later, they meet again at the bus stop. Tim tries to ignore her but they are the only two people there besides the drunk homeless guy who's sleeping or possibly dead under the bench. Neither of them wants to check. He keeps glancing at her sideways when she isn't looking and he's pretty sure she's doing the same.

"So," she says and he starts like he wasn't expecting the conversation, except he was, obviously. "Nat Turner, huh?" He flushes. He can feel the heat of his cheeks and knows it isn't the kind of flush you get from the cold or the wind.

"I got saddled with slackers for a group project," he replies. It's the truth because there's no reason to lie, really. She winces in sympathy.

"Ouch." They slip into silence. Tim doesn't mind except it's still another twenty minutes until his bus and that sleeping-possibly-dead guy hasn't moved and this whole situation is so awkward he can’t stand it anymore.

"Did you know there is significant historical evidence to suggest both the Norse and the Welsh "discovered" America before Columbus, building communities and integrating with the native tribes they encountered as far south as Boston and the Midwest and that the stories made it back to their home countries conclusively enough to become part of the literature of Iceland and Wales?"

She blinks at him and he stares at the floor again. It's a very interesting floor, covered in gum and little gritty bits of glass and... other questionable substances.

"Cool," she says, drawing out the double-o, and he can hear the smile in her voice. That's cool. Maybe he's not a freak after all. She shuffles a little closer, checks her watch. "I've got a while before my bus maybe shows up. You got any more fascinating facts in that nerdy little head of yours?" He wants to protest the adjective but he's also really glad that someone is letting him talk so he can't complain. He gives an obligatory "hey" before launching into a monologue about the Norse legal system and the Althing. She keeps smiling.

When he finally stops, gasping slightly for breath, she claps her gloved hands and nudges him with her elbow. He hopes he hasn’t weirded her out, hopes she doesn’t think he’s crazy or a creep or some sad sack with no friends. He dreads what she’s going to say but the longer it takes for her to respond the more anxious he gets. It takes a surprising amount of self-control not to flinch away from her elbow because he’s sure that would be weird. It’s just a friendly dig in the ribs, after all.

"You really are a nerd, aren't you?"

"No! Besides if I am, you are too. Who else would stay at the library ‘til closing?"

"Never said it was a bad thing," she says with a shrug, "embrace the inner nerd. Join the dark side, we have cookies." He sniggers into his hand, an ugly laugh his parents would hate, but is slightly more acceptable than full blown belly-laughter. Perhaps he'll never meet this girl again, but it is so very easy to talk to her and the bus headlights swinging around the corner are bringing this conversation to a close. He sticks out a hand.

"I'm Tim," he tells her. She shakes his hand once, solidly.

"Steph." Tim feels the name settle in his mind like a cat curling up to take a nap. He knows she's here to stay.

It takes ages for the bus to get out of Gotham central, but that’s pretty normal. There’s been a rise in traffic offenses. Or possibly crimes involving public transport? Tim’s not sure. The news isn’t sure. It’s whatever. The buses are later and take longer and everyone’s annoyed about it but they take it as it comes because they’re Gothamites born and bred. Gothamites know there’s no point complaining. If it weren’t for the library, Tim wouldn’t even take this bus. Its closest stop is twenty minutes from his house, and there are no stops where he can change to a route that takes him closer. If he goes straight home after school, he can get the number 5 to central station then change to the 12 for Bristol.

And yet. He goes to the library even though home has a computer and a library of its own (even if the ‘library’ is technically dad’s office that he never got permission to use). He deals with Gotham’s terrible buses even though he has a perfectly functional bike locked away (it used to get used everyday. It took him from Bristol to the Bowery and back, in the days of Batman and Robin).

He gets off at the last stop before the bus makes its way back to the city centre and tramps his way in the direction of home. He doesn’t mind the walk, really, doesn’t mind the weight of his backpack full of books or his shoes that rub slightly. It’s better than being home alone in that empty, tomb-like house. He is glad it’s summer, though. At almost 8pm, it’s getting to that golden hour before the sunset where everything is soft and faded and warm but without the stifling, heavy heat of midday. He only occasionally goes to the library in winter, and mostly on weekends, specifically to avoid the walk home at this time. In summer, the fancy brickwork and shiny glass might be beautiful – or as beautiful as Gotham gets, at any rate – but in winter it becomes menacing and bleak. Tim hates walking in Gotham in the dark.

What Tim hates most though, is coming home to an empty house. He hates coming home to dark rooms with the heating off and reheating Mrs Mac's frozen meals in the microwave. He hates passing the empty hallways and locked doors, how the furniture in the open rooms is covered with white sheets. It feels like he's disturbing a forgotten relic every time he opens the front door. Trespassing every time he toes off his shoes or flings down his bag. He walks silently in his own home because there is something huge and dangerous and smothering in the silence that hangs over it. Something that must not be disrupted. Most kids would dream of the kind of freedom Tim has, but Tim's grown to hate it. The grass is always greener, he supposes. He takes his tupperware of spaghetti up to his room because the dining room table is covered and God forbid he spill tomato sauce on the sofa. Besides, he still has that project to do.

He hands in the project with bags under his eyes deeper than the one in that old Disney movie with the British nanny, and the kind of resignation in his voice that he knows teachers know means he’d done the whole thing the night before. He’s done a good job, he knows; he always does a good job. But sometimes the little vindictive part of him wonders what would happen if he failed on purpose, if the others would finally do their share or if they’d just refuse to work with him and leave him to do it alone anyway. The teacher smiles like she knows what Tim’s gone through to get this project done and maybe she does but Tim won’t get all the credit for it so he doesn’t really care.

Laying his head on his arms, he struggles not to fall asleep as she collects the last of the group projects and begins to lecture them. Why is he even here? His parents have told him more about history than this teacher will ever know, for all that she probably has at least a BA in the subject, and it’s not like it’s one of those ‘transferable skills’ the guidance counsellors keep trying to persuade them they have. There are so many better things he could be doing and only some of those involve wondering about that girl from the library, Steph.

---

It’s not like he seeks Steph out and he doesn’t think she’s looking for him either. They just keep bumping into each other. Turns out they get on well and he starts to consider her a friend. He likes her goofy sense of humour and the way she’s always willing to lend a hand. Sometimes, after they finish their homework, they play card games – quietly, of course – until closing. It’s his idea to swap numbers, after their third post-closing bus stop conversation when they’d left together because they’d spent two hours doing homework together.

He texts her most of the way home now instead of paying attention to what’s going on outside like normal. What’s going on outside doesn’t really matter when he has a new friend to talk to who isn’t Ives (Ives who responds to messages at the least convenient moments, who’s gotten Tim’s phone confiscated more times than he can count with ill-timed texts, who Tim loves with all his heart but also gets so frustrated with). When he gets off the bus, ready for the walk, he keeps texting. He knows this walk like the back of his hand, like he knows the way to the bathroom in the dark, so it’s easy to keep half an ear out for cars as he crosses the road and presses his thumb to the reader on the gate. The car in the driveway does not register until he lets himself in at the back door and hears his parents’ voices from the lounge.

He freezes midway through hanging up his blazer. When did they get back? Had they sent an email that he’d missed? A phone call? It’s been – he quickly counts back from March – almost five months since he’d seen them without a screen between them, almost a month since they’d spoken at all. And yet, peeking around the doorframe, he can see them sitting on the couch, talking quietly, still in their suits from the airport. He shoves his phone to the bottom of his bag. Creeps for the stairs, almost managing to slip away, and fails.

“Timothy, darling. Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for you to come home.” He pauses and lets his mother drag him back towards her with her voice.

“I was at the library,” he tells her. “School work.” She nods and smiles that sterile, business-like smile.

“Of course. I’m glad you’re working so hard. Now go change, quickly. We have dinner plans.”

It happens like this: Tim and his parents arrive at the house of Robert Brown at 7pm. They are taken immediately to the dining room and treated to some of the fanciest food Tim has seen in months. Robert Brown and his parents leave to talk business, leaving Tim alone with Robert Brown’s wife who doesn’t seem to know what to do with him. She leaves him to go yell at the kitchen staff about something. Tim is left alone and Tim is a very curious, very intelligent child who has suddenly found himself with no supervision whatsoever. An empty room is not interesting. The door to the study, left open just a crack, is. If he stays very still and listens closely, it is enough for Tim to hear the conversation within.

"… and you had no trouble with airport security at this end?” That was Robert Brown speaking.

“They suspected nothing. Our Ethiopian contact will send the rest over shortly.”

“Good. And the buyer?”

“Already lined up. Dr Anderson is keen to receive his prize.”

“Excellent. I trust that the last transaction went just as smoothly?”

“Robert, we’re not idiots.”

“Yes, yes, but you know me; I always like to be certain.”

“Of course, but still, you wouldn’t have been half as successful without us and we couldn’t have gotten onto half of those digs without you. We need to trust each other if this is going to work.”

A sigh, probably Robert Brown, and the chink of a glass on wood.

“Peru next?”

“Peru, yes. There’s a collection of tombs in Cajamarca that sounds promising. I’ve heard the jewellery is so stunning perhaps your wife might even accept a piece.”

They laugh and Tim knows it’s time to make himself scarce.

His parents leave days later. He’s not surprised, really; he didn’t expect them to stay. It’s not even that disappointing anymore. Sure, they left before his birthday so he’d spend it alone again. Sure, they didn’t tell him they were leaving so he’d come home from school to find them long gone. But that’s okay. He can spend time doing stupid stuff his parents wouldn’t approve of: watch cartoons and eat chips from the bag and play video games and scroll through the OnlyInGotham hashtag until the small hours of the morning instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour. It’s not like he’s missing much by them not being there; Mrs Mac still makes food for him to reheat every week, still cleans the house. He still goes to school every day, still does his own laundry because he’s not a child. Life goes on like they never existed. He forgets about dinner, forgets about Robert Brown, forgets about cases full of Ethiopian gold.

He talks to Steph every day. They talk about everything and nothing: homework and TV shows and whatever topic has most recently caught their interest and Tim talks about the obscure memes Ives sends him and Steph talks about bands and music Tim’s never heard of. She tells him what she wants for her future and Tim envies her surety, her confidence. Tim has no idea what he wants. He talks about the business, about his parents’ travels but half his mind is on that conversation he’d overheard and god he hoped Steph wasn’t listening too hard because he’s not making much sense but his brain is running on at least two different tracks at once except they’re not that different at all and–

“Holy shit, Steph, my parents are criminals!”

#batfam big bang 2020 #batfam fanfiction #Tim Drake #Stephanie Brown #friendship #found family #tw child neglect #not canon compliant #reverse heist au #leave the ruins where they lie #my-writing

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

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ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Supernatural Stories

Shackled After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Miriam Bard (original female character), Sam Winchester, Castiel Rating: EXPLICIT. 18+ONLY. PLEASE READ/HEED WARNINGS. Warning: Warnings change each chapter, please check every time. Ch 1 Warnings: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester)

...

Walk Me Home Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground. Inspired by P!nk’s “Walk Me Home.” A birthday present for the incomparable @thoughtslikeaminefield.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dr. Kimberly Harper (original female character), Mysterious Big Bad, mention of Garth Fitzgerald, John Winchester/Teenage Dean/young Teenage Sam (flashbacks) Rating: Mature.. 18+ONLY. PLEASE READ WARNINGS. Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning. ...

Dear Mr. Fantasy Sometimes when he sleeps, Dean sees flashes of other Dean Winchesters, in other universes. Inspired by Traffic’s “Dear Mr. Fantasy” and the header image; prompt given by @thoughtslikeaminefield. @cabin-fever-bang prompt fill.

Characters: Dean Winchester, AU Dean Winchester, original female character, Sam Winchester; mentions of Castiel, Chuck, AU John Winchester, AU Sam Winchester, and AU Danny Elkins Rating: Teen Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst. ...

To My Soul You’ve taken to walking when insomnia strikes. Dean and Sam have their own means of dealing with their occasional insomnia. Every now and then, your paths cross. Inspired by Van Morrison’s “And It Stoned Me”. Image by @there-must-be-a-lock

Characters: Reader, Sam Winchester, mentions of Dean Winchester Rating: Most anyone. Warnings: Some loneliness. This story is very soft, there’s not much to warn about. ...

Detours on the Road So Far - OR - Why Sam and Dean Need Actual Adult Supervision Shenanigans. Lots of them. Probably some pie. THIS IS CRACK FIC.

Characters: Our main dudes. Some friends, frenemies, and various other entities. Rating: Range from Teen to Adult, changes each chapter. WARNINGS CHANGE WITH EACH CHAPTER. READ/HEED WARNINGS FOR EACH CHAPTER. ADULT THEMES THROUGHOUT, SOME ADULTIER THAN OTHERS. ...

The Rose “She’s fifty today, and in Dean’s opinion, there’s never been anyone more beautiful.” An alternate Dean reflects on the life he’s led. Sequel to “Dear Mr. Fantasy.”

Characters: An Alternate universe Dean (no, not that one), his wife (original female character or female reader, depending on how hard you stare at it), mentions of Sam, John, vague reference to Chuck. Rating: Most anybody can read this one. Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst. Honestly, it’s pretty sweet. ...

Crossword Clues and Coffee A chance encounter in Lebanon’s finest (read: only) diner leads Dean to find the one thing he never knew his life was missing.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Esther (original female character), Sam Winchester, Castiel Rating: Most anyone. Maybe a smattering of language. Warnings: Tiny bit of language? Angst. LOTS of sass. Honestly, it’s a lot of fluff. No romance. ...

I’m Ready “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” A Destiel story, eventually. Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel. Many Original Characters, Appearances by John Winchester, May Winchester, Bobby, Jody, Donna, Charlie, Kevin, and a few other name drops you’ll appreciate Rating: Teen Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining ...

We’ve Got Tonight “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.” Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Characters: Andy (Original Female Character), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

...

Marvel/MCU Stories

Breathe With Me “The magnitudes of the rocks and trees and streams are so delicately harmonized, they are mostly hidden.” John Muir

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, original gender neutral character (reader) Relationship(s): Established poly relationship. Rating: Teen, but probably not even that Warnings: This is meant to be a comfort fic, rather than a triggery, angsty one. Anxiety attacks, stress, someone with a news-watching trigger, but otherwise the story is people finding ways to cope/deal with their triggers and supporting others who are doing the same. ...

After Midnight She calls him one last time, determined to put an end to their tryst. Loki feels differently. Written for @fvckingavengers Quarantine Challenge, prompt #32: “After Midnight” by Dorothy. Be gentle, this is my first posted Loki story. Beautiful header by @there-must-be-a-lock ; thank you so much, friend!

Characters: Loki, unnamed female character/reader Relationships: Loki/unnamed female character/reader Rating: Mature. 18+ONLY. Warnings: sexual content, Loki being persuasive

...

How Long The call comes sometime after midnight, pulling you instantly alert from your deep sleep. Your phone is set to “Do Not Disturb,” and only one number is programmed as an exception.

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers (Nomad Steve Rogers, Nomad Captain America) Relationship(s): reader x Steve Rogers Rating: MATURE. 18+ ONLY.

...

Shadows and Pills Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

Characters: Alexa (original female character), Dark/Evil Loki Rating: Explicit. 18+ONLY Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse ...

Real Person Fic

Binging “The last thing he wants you to think is that you’re simply a convenience, someone he just keeps on the hook for when he’s got time.” Inspired by Mr. Stan’s infamous Men’s Health photo shoot, as well as his “Cheat Day” video.

Rating: M, 18+ONLY Warnings: Language (heh), smut, fluff, excessive use of breakfast foods. Characters: Sebastian Stan, Reader/Unnamed Original Character Word Count: 2.4k ...

Every Now and Then “It’s a simple case of not enough versus taking what you can get. Sometimes she sees him for a day or two, then not again for almost half a year.” Relationships are hard. When one person is a world-wide superstar and both people are idiots, they get that much harder. They both take what they can get, but eventually that may not be enough.

Characters: Tom Hiddleston, Reader Insert/Unnamed Original Female Character Rating: Mature, 18+ONLY Warnings: Two large dollops of smut, a half-cup of angst divided, several pinches of language, dash of loneliness, and a good sprinkle of lack of communication. Fold ingredients together gently, bake at 200c fan for 20 minutes, then serve piping hot from the oven.

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ladymacbethsspot · 4 years

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Humanity’s Strongest

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Happy SNK Veteran’s Secret Santa, @tonya-the-chicken !!! I hope you enjoy this Mike + Levi gen fic (it’s kind of an enemies to friends <3).

Either read under the cut here, or also on AO3- Humanity’s Strongest (6k words, so, yeah... haha)

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Mike Zacharias was a stooge. A clod. A big man with a big nose and a big yell and not much else. He did what Erwin told him, always, sniffing in that awful way of his, like he couldn’t even breathe without permission. He’d shoved Levi’s face in the filth one too many times, and Levi had met far too many men like him before.

They all thought they were so strong.

They all thought they were so big.

They all thought they could throw their weight around without consequence and rely on their friends in high places to get them out of anything.

That’s what Levi thought.

He thought it when they first met. With mud seeping down the front of his shirt, with foul-tasting grit between his teeth, with the smells of waste and rot making his stomach flip and the bile rise- He couldn’t think anything else. He hated that hand, the one that held him down. He hated the strength pinning him to the ground. He hated the man forcing him to kneel to the falsest of prophets.

The hate was sharp, urgent, and bright. But its light dimmed when his friends died for it. And when he’d decided to follow Erwin Smith into the Scouts, the flame of hate guttered and went dark.

Life with the Scouts was unfamiliar, but some things hadn’t changed. Levi still couldn’t sleep. He still carried a blade. He still ignored everyone and they ignored him. He kept his head down, spoke little, and did only what he was ordered to do. He trained, he worked, and he sat through the beginners’ lectures with a bored half-attention.

It wasn’t long before it became routine. It was either that, the simple passage of time, or the fact that Levi had faced nearly everyone on the training field hand to hand. He’d always been good at fighting, good at hurting. Levi found it much more effective than talking. It worked wonders above-ground just as it did in the Underground. The glares of his fellow soldiers were less frequent. The whispers and rumors lost their more fantastic elements. He didn’t confuse them anymore now that he was one of them. They’d seen his tricks, and they weren’t tricks at all. There was no magic, no mystery, only force.

But he still scared them, that much he would never be able to beat out of them. It didn’t work like that, and Levi was at a loss. The way the other soldiers fell quiet, or turned away, like birds moving as a flock to avoid a hawk, had grown to be part of Levi’s routine. He accepted it. It suited him. He didn’t have to hold anyone at arm’s length; they held themselves there.

Except for three people: Erwin, Mike, and Hanji. Hanji had been the first to pester him. They’d come over and sat themselves right down, inviting themselves to eat with him even when Levi had thought it was clear they weren’t welcome. They’d had some decency though, saying they were sorry for the friends he’d lost, and Levi hadn’t bothered to chase them away. His lack of hostility apparently interpreted as an invitation, Hanji had made a habit after that of introducing terrified-looking people to Levi, of dragging him into awkward conversations, and of catching him sneaking out of the mess hall with his bread and insisting he sit with them.

Hanji was loud. And a chatterbox. Curious, enthusiastic, and scatterbrained, it was almost more agonizing to listen to their latest experimental results than it was to go hungry. One night, already late on his way to dinner, Levi wondered if he should even go at all. The food probably wouldn’t be hot anymore anyway. He could skip a meal. It wouldn’t be pleasant, and he’d be starving in the morning, but he wasn’t sure how much speculation on the Titans’ digestive tract he could take that night. Levi paused, a few feet away from the mess hall entrance, wavering on the edge of the circle of lamp-lit glow and hum of voices emanating from within. He could go back to the barracks. He could head over to the stables. He could take a walk outside, in the night, in blissful silence, or-

“You coming?”

A deep voice from behind made Levi turn. He looked up, and up, briefly meeting a pair of light, cool eyes looking down a long nose at him.

Mike’s shaggy hair needed to be brushed. His uniform shirt was sweaty and coming untucked. As the big man sniffed, Levi frowned. His jaw set, lips pressing shut in a thin line. Before he could speak, Mike continued.

“Hey,” Mike said, “Let’s eat.”

The much larger man nodded towards the hall and took a step forward. As he passed Levi he leaned over, a quiet explanation sliding down his nose and catching Levi’s ear. “I have questions for Hanji. It’ll keep them occupied.” Mike didn’t have to wink. He didn’t have to nudge, or even break his stride as he headed into the mess for dinner. Levi felt the weight of his indecision lifted, the tension of his scowl smoothing to neutral relief. Wordlessly, he followed Mike. Not too close, but not too far, letting a few steps separate them and their cadence lag just beyond a match, he walked with Mike to dinner.

Potatoes. Peas. Bread. The water in his tin cup tasted flat, all flavor boiled from it, but Levi’s stomach growled loudly anyway as he put a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. If not hot it was at least decently warm, and Levi hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He trained a lot now, even more than he had as a criminal, and every bite of food was welcome. Levi dug in, alternating bites of bread and peas, efficiently cleaning his plate faster than he had in weeks. Mike had been true to his word. Hanji was occupied, and he was free to eat without interruption.

“Wait, what do they smell like, though?” Hanji repeated, prodding Mike in the ribs. Levi thanked the gods silently that he wasn’t the one being interrogated for once.

“Bad. Stop poking me,” Mike grumbled.

“Bad? Bad?! That doesn’t mean anything. Do Titans smell ‘bad’ like dirty socks? ‘Bad’ like moldy bread? What kind of ‘bad’?” As Hanji ticked off the unappealing possibilities, Levi found his appetite waning. “Do they smell like dog shit? Or maybe like…” Levi chased the peas around his plate.

“Like…” Mike trailed off, his unshakeable calm enviable as he stared into the middle distance while Hanji practically vibrated in the seat next to them. “Well, a little like vomit,” he admitted.

Levi’s stomach twinged. A wave of nausea lapped at the back of his throat. He looked up from his food, shooting them both a glare across the table, immediately doubting his temporary peace with Mike. The man had been messing with him. He hadn’t meant to be friendly at all. He’d merely lulled Levi into a false sense of security. Then he’d lured him into this trap. “That’s disgusting. Could you not?” Levi accused.

“It’s not disgusting,” Hanji insisted, “it’s valuable information! Tell me more. I need to know more about the scent if I’m going to learn anything from it.” They leaned over, crowding Mike’s space as he shifted away on the bench.

“Bad meat. They smell like that.”

“Disgusting,” Levi muttered, trying to will himself to take another bite of peas, fighting the rising feelings of revulsion and betrayal.

“Spoiled? Rancid? Is it more of a sour smell or a musky one? I’m trying to capture the specifics of it. I know you’re the expert, Mike, so tell me, what does your nose know? Are we talking about a gamey scent, like some kind of animal that died and sat out in the sun until-”

This was too much. He would not be treated like this. Holding back a burp that threatened to be more, Levi slammed his spoon down on his plate. Metal banged together with a ringing clack, jumping against the wooden table, peas and bits of potato sent flying. “Shut up!” he roared, the outburst punctuated by a splat as a lump of flying potato landed squarely on Hanji’s goggles.

The silence that followed was nearly complete. Levi glared at Hanji. Hanji stared, open mouthed, right back. The rest of the hall’s dull chatter around them had run dry. And Mike- Mike-

Mike fucking snorted. He snorted, and gasped, and barked a laugh as his shoulders shook. Levi’s glare turned from Hanji to him. The quick burst was followed by hearty chuckling, the occasional nasal snort making Hanji join in as they whooped along. Wiping the potato from their goggles sent Hanji into a fresh fit of glee, and they slapped Mike on the back. Their laughter grew as Levi watched on, lips clamped shut, as the two continued in fits and spurts of uncontained mirth. They had fucking set him up. It was not funny. It was disgusting. His appetite and dinner both ruined, Levi stood from the bench and crossed his arms as he looked down at them.

“You think this is funny?” Levi hissed. Mike looked back at him through dirty-blonde bangs that shook between chuckles.

“Levi-” he started, but Levi cut him off.

“This is a fucking waste. People were eating,” he deadpanned, and picked up his dented plate, turning on his heel and marching toward the kitchen with the remains of his meal. He thought he heard Hanji’s voice, but he didn’t stop walking. Levi didn’t stop, and he didn’t look back. He went straight into the kitchen, where they returned their plates and spoons and cups, and frowned at the spoon imbedded in what remained of his potatoes.

The meal was ruined. But Levi couldn’t bear to scrape it into the bin with the garbage either. He’d been hungry before. Food was food. Reluctantly, Levi picked the spoon’s handle out of the mess and scraped what remained of his dinner off his plate, forcing himself to swallow it without thinking of any of the things Hanji or Mike had mentioned. He managed, barely, and didn’t care about the clatter as he threw his dishes in with the rest.

Levi didn’t go to breakfast the next morning. Instead he waited, leaning against the cold stone in the hallway, until the sounds of forks and cups on plates and wooden tables grew quiet. He let the soldiers pass by him on their way out. They gave him a wide berth, moving around him once they saw him, their conversations dying on their lips as they shot him furtive glances. When Mike and Nanaba walked out, Levi was done waiting.

Stepping into the middle of the hall, he greeted them roughly.

“Oi, Zacharias.”

“Levi,” Mike nodded casually, his steps even as they approached. If he expected Levi to step aside, or move back, if he thought Levi would fall in step with them- he was wrong. Levi’s jaw set into a hard line. His eyes narrowed. As the distance between them closed, he crossed his arms. Until Mike and Nanaba were forced to stop. Levi frowned up at them. Nanaba’s raised brows lowered after a look between the two men.

“Huh,” Mike grunted, “What’s this about?”

“Spar with me,” Levi demanded.

“What?” Nanaba asked, momentarily confused.

“Today,” Levi clarified, his eyes trained on Mike’s face. Nanaba caught the meaning in his gaze, and opened her mouth, protests flowing out.

“Mike’s squad is doing horseback drills today. He doesn’t have time for that. Besides, you’re supposed to be doing something useful, too. You’re a soldier. Where’s your sense of duty?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Levi interjected. The look of indignation on Nanaba’s face lasted only a second before it turned dark.

“Yes, it does. It concerns everyone. We are a team,” she added, “I thought you understood that. Especially after Erwin-”

Mike’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from saying more. “It’s fine. I’ll spar with you, Levi. At lunchtime.” The pause that followed let them all digest the acceptance of the invitation. Nanaba’s shoulders dropped slightly, relaxing under Mike’s touch. She gave a quiet sigh.

“Good,” Levi nodded curtly. “Meet at the field on the far side of the pond. Hand to hand. No gear. No weapons.”

“No tricks?” Mike asked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Honestly,” Nanaba rolled her eyes, her anger already faded to irritation “you two are acting like boys. I’ll have no part of it.” With that she shook her head, setting off down the hall and leaving the two men to finish their glaring contest alone.

No one stopped Levi when he left drills early. If they even noticed, they said nothing as he stalked back into the ready room where they kept their 3d maneuver equipment. No one interrupted him as he undid the buckles, shucking leather belts off with practiced efficiency. After one final check of the gears and pins, he stored his equipment away, leaving just before his comrades returned from the training yard. He crossed the grounds of headquarters quickly, making his way by the pastures and training fields, beyond the barn, through the path between the kitchen gardens, and to the pond near the edge of the complex. It was a long way to go, but Levi didn’t run. He didn’t jog or rush in any way. He walked calmly, assuredly, with only the faintest glimmer of excitement picking his steps a little higher than usual.

He could see Mike, already waiting for him in the small field. The man was so tall, he was impossible to miss. He cut a large figure, even from a distance, but the thought of facing him didn’t intimidate Levi. It excited him. That was unusual. He’d fought plenty of men before, women too. But fighting was usually something he did to survive. It wasn’t special. It wasn’t noble. He wasn’t trying to prove anything with his fists and his knife.

But this time he was. This time it was personal. He could almost smell the stench of mud, taste the foul mix of water and waste.

He owed Mike- for that if nothing else.

“You said no weapons, right?” Mike cracked his knuckles as Levi stopped in front of him. “Bet you’ve got at least one knife on you. Here’s mine,” he finished, reaching into the back of his belt and pulling out a pocketknife. He dropped it on the ground between them, looking to Levi.

“Huh. Sure,” Levi shrugged. He undid the visible leather sheath from the side of his belt. Rolling up his sleeve, he slid a second knife from a band around his upper arm, and before Mike could raise an eyebrow produced a third that had been concealed at his back. Tossing the assortment of blades onto the ground, he rolled his shoulders.

“That it? How about that little hooked bugger…”

Levi frowned, shooting Mike a look of spite when he saw the blond’s stoic expression turn smug. “Not like I’d need it anyway,” he muttered, but still he bent down, reaching into his boot and plucking the long, thin, wickedly hooked piece of sharpened steel from its hiding place. That too dropped into the grass as the men walked a few yards away and squared off. They faced each other, letting the space between them take shape. Levi shifted on the balls of his feet, never settling as he let out a long breath-

-and Mike ran-

couching down, he barreled toward Levi’s chest. The instant of surprise evaporated, Levi’s instincts taking over instead. He stepped wide to the left, turning slightly, raising his arm and letting Mike pass just by his side. Mike’s arms closed on nothing, the explosive start taking him a few steps to slow. He pivoted, foot driving hard into the ground to turn as he came at Levi with a fist.

But this time Levi wasn’t surprised.

He dodged the punch, ducking to throw one of his own. Aiming for Mike’s ribs, under his raised arm, his fist found flesh. Hard- solid- it was like hitting a wall. Levi’s teeth gritted. Mike hadn’t flinched. His eyes had closed for a second longer, but there was no crumple, no stutter. He kept moving, like the punch hadn’t landed at all. Pulling his other arm back, Levi tried again. Taking more time to aim, gauging where Mike’s ribs ended, he leaned back. Throwing the weight of his back and the momentum of the short turn into his blow, Levi lunged.

Mike’s shoulder hunched down defensively. His arms came up, forearms pressing together, creating a wall. A wall that Levi’s fist slammed into. This time he felt Mike’s muscles jump, watched him wince in pain, his arms forced back as they took the full brunt of the punch.

It was almost all Levi had. It was still barely enough.

There was no time to recover. They had both done this too many times before. Mike rocked forward, his foot swiping out at Levi’s legs at the same time. Trying to confuse his footing, tangle his steps and trip him, Mike fought dirtier than expected. But dirty was exactly how Levi had learned to fight. His weight light, barely resting on the balls of his feet, Levi deftly avoided the trap. The second lunge he would have avoided too if Mike hadn’t been so huge. But he only had time for one more step- and his shorter legs didn’t bring him far enough.

Mike’s hip banged into his side, the unstoppable force of the man’s weight making his teeth clack. The pain was dull. Pounding. It reverberated up and down his side, from hip to shoulder, sending him staggering back. Mike wasn’t about to take just take a punch- he could give as well as he got. That, and Levi knew he’d have to put all his strength into each strike or Mike wouldn’t budge. There was no point in hitting if he didn’t hit hard. Luckily Mike’s weight and size could help there. Levi could use those to his advantage, could turn them against his opponent. He just needed to find the right angles.

Levi was starting to enjoy this.

When the two men turned back to one another their fight had changed. Both of them were serious. Mike struck out with his left, and Levi dodged it, anticipating the punch that followed from the right and turning with it to grab ahold of Mike’s wrist. He followed the larger man’s momentum, adding his own and directing it towards the ground. Pulling Mike over his shoulder, he dragged the man forward. A smaller opponent would have gone face-first into the ground. Damn Mike’s height- his knee hit the earth, but he was back up in a second, coming at Levi with a powerful swing. Levi could only half-avoid it. Glancing off the outside of his thigh, his brows knit as he pushed the flare of pain from his thoughts.

Instead Levi focused on hitting back. And he did, coming up to Mike as close as quarters would allow. Taking advantage of his small size, getting right up into his face before Mike could react, Levi knocked a flurry of punches into his chest. They hit in rapid succession, the sound of his fist slamming against Mike’s body satisfying- almost addicting. Levi jumped back, and Mike followed him. Right on his heels, giving him little time to react, they traded steps and blows in the dirt. Neither giving much quarter; their fight was a contained one, fast-paced and fierce.

Levi’s blood sang in his veins. The thrill of sparring like this was rare. A worthy opponent was hard to find, and as they traded blows Levi began to appreciate Mike’s abilities. He took a bone-shaking hit to his hip, but let himself be pushed back with it, the force spreading and diffusing. The unexpected lack of resistance made Mike pause. As he did, Levi bounced back, landing a sharp kick in the middle of his shin. Mike swore pain and surprise obvious as his leg buckled and he stumbled. Rearing back, he wound up for a hasty punch. His aim too wide, wavering wider as he tried to follow through on his injured leg, Levi used the opening. He grabbed Mike, getting enough grip to finally throw him down.

The victory was short-lived. Mike rolled as he fell and was back up before Levi could hit him again. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Levi’s heart beating in his ears, the air he pulled deep into his lungs, the striking clarity with which he felt every muscle in his body. Strike. Breathe. Dodge. Levi’s focus narrowed to a point.

The two men circled. Levi shook out his shoulder. He rolled his sleeves up and Mike did too. They were both breathing heavy.

“You’re not bad at this,” Levi offered.

“Humanity’s Strongest,” Mike just nodded, the confidence clear in his voice.

“Humanity’s what?” Levi repeated.

“Humanity’s Strongest. That’s what they call me.”

“Whatever,” Levi scoffed. “Hope you enjoyed it. Since now they’ll only be calling you Humanity’s Second Strongest.”

“Ha-” Mike barked a laugh, “We’ll see.”

The two men rushed at each other, feet pounding the ground between them to nothing. Their furious limbs met, trading and blocking each other’s moves. Sweat dripped on their brows. Their muscles bunched and flexed, pitting force against force as they clashed. Both men were strong. Both men were fast. Both men had experience.

But Levi had more.

When Mike swayed forward, following through too much on a punch, Levi’s arm wrapped around his thick neck in a chokehold. Levi grabbed his other wrist, trapping Mike’s neck between his elbow and shoulder. He squeezed tight. Mike’s arms flailed. Levi knew he had only a few seconds, and sure enough Mike’s arms his waist, wrapping around it. Mike’s grip was awkward, but strong. They both squeezed, trying to crush the other, Levi bearing down hard, knowing he could only keep the force on Mike’s neck as long as he could breathe himself. His ribs were being compressed, Mike’s big arms pushing the air from his lungs, even as his forearm cut deeper into Mike’s windpipe. They struggled for seconds that felt like minutes, straining against each other.

As Levi felt Mike’s grip beginning to fade he looked down into the man’s face.

“I can’t- fucking- believe- you set me up,” he hissed.

“Wh-wha?” Mike choked out. His strength was failing. The pressure on his ribs easing, Levi gulped down a deep breath.

“With that shit at dinner,” he explained, “Who the fuck cares what a Titan smells like? You think that’s funny? Wasting food like that?”

“No- didn’t- set you- up-” Mike gasped, his mouth opening and closing against Levi’s arm as the words rasped out. Levi’s grip failed, loosening for just long enough for Mike to slip free. He lurched away, putting much more space between them, his breaths wheezing as Levi also fell back.

Mike’s denial was frustrating. And confusing. Just like everything. Who did he think he was- messing with Levi like that and expecting it wouldn’t come back to him? Levi frowned, his hands balling into fists, nails digging into his palms. He wasn’t going to let this continue. He was going to settle this the way he knew best- with his own two hands. Levi looked up, staring down the shaggy-haired giant across the field from him. With a deep breath he squared his shoulders, crouching down low, bending his knees and rocking back before he exploded forward into a run. Just as he started to move, so did Mike. Rushing at him headlong, his posture just as serious as Levi’s.

They raised their arms, distance closing quickly.

They cried out, twin yells loud in challenge.

They threw every ounce of their focus, their aim, and their strength at each other until-

“STOP!” a man’s deep voice shouted. Levi’s head snapped to the side fast enough to see a flash of blond hair and the flutter of a brown uniform jacket.

But not fast enough to stop.

Shit, Levi thought as his fist slammed into Erwin’s chest, a second impact from behind Erwin jarring them both and sending him crashing into the man as a shrill scream cut the air. They fell, in a tangle of misplaced limbs, the ground knocking the fight from them. Shit, Levi repeated silently. Erwin was the last person he wanted to see him like this, childishly fighting another soldier, even if it was Mike. Levi gasped. His ass hurt. He couldn’t get up. He was pinned by two much bigger men and struggling only made it worse. He looked around wildly, trying to make sense of what was happening, as Nanaba and Hanji rushed over. Scolding and fussing, they tugged Levi’s arms roughly out from under Erwin’s side, helping the squad leader to his feet.

Erwin stood shakily, wobbling until Nanaba wrapped an arm around his side and held him steady. “Erwin, are you okay?” she asked, the concern obvious in her voice.

On the ground, inches away, Mike groaned. Levi rolled over and sat up, brushing dirt from his shirt and tugging his cravat untied.

“You two,” Erwin stared down at them, swaying far enough that Levi thought he might fall again if it wasn’t for Hanji’s hand planted squarely on his chest. “I’m disappointed in you. You know fighting isn’t allowed.”

“But-” Levi opened his mouth, still too shocked to think clearly.

“But nothing. It is not allowed.” Erwin’s thick brows drew into a firm line. “You know better than that. And you will be punished. Both of you.” He shot a meaningful glance at Mike, who hung his head bashfully. “Cleaning. The mess hall. The men’s showers. My office-”

“Erwin,” Hanji interrupted, pointing out, “only Commander Shadis can order cleaning of the common rooms as punishment. If you want them to clean the showers and the mess, you’d have to tell him what happened, and…”

“Fine. Then. My office,” Erwin sighed, running a hand down his face. For a moment he looked tired, and Levi winced internally- he hadn’t meant to let Erwin down like this. “My office then,” Erwin reiterated, “Six o’clock tomorrow morning. Sharp.”

Nodding dumbly, still a little numb from the whole thing, Levi clambered awkwardly to his feet and distractedly brushed dust off his aching ass while Hanji and Nanaba helped the injured Erwin half-march, half-limp off.

At six o’clock the next morning Levi knocked on Squad Leader Erwin’s office door.

“Enter,” came the response from within, and Levi stepped inside. Mike was already there, standing by the desk. Levi glowered at him, but the sound of Erwin clearing his throat quickly pulled his attention away. “At least I can count on you two to be on time. If I were Commander Shadis I’d hope you’d both be early.” Levi caught the smirk at the corners of Mike’s mouth and pursed his lips, holding back a reply and opting instead to stare down at the toes of his boots. “Do you know why you’re here?” Erwin asked.

He hadn’t directed the question to either of them, and it hung in the air. Getting heavier, making both Levi and Mike shift their weight, forcing them to avoid Erwin’s gaze and each other’s, they grew more uncomfortable as the moments stretched.

Finally Levi had enough. “Fighting,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Erwin agreed. He paused, letting the blunt answer sink in before continuing. “But not just fighting- the Scouts fight all the time. But we fight Titans. Not each other. And you both know that. You need to fight together. And for that you can’t be trying to kill each other.” He looked slowly between both men. His face open, his expression steady but not angry, Levi was surprised at how earnest his blue eyes looked. “We’re all on the same side.” Erwin’s voice was quiet, intimate, almost like he was entrusting them with a valuable secret as he met their eyes. “We need only fight for humanity.”

Levi’s shame burnt the back of his neck, but he didn’t dare look away. He had never run from anything in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“So, I trust that you’ll have this office spick and span by lunchtime,” Erwin finished, giving a small cough as his face once again took on its normally-stoic expression. With that he stood from behind the desk and strode between the two men, closing the door behind him without another word.

“Shit,” Levi breathed. He looked around the office, collecting himself, only then realizing what he’d really gotten into.

The place was chaos.

Books, stacked in piles, tall enough that they leaned on each other and the bookcases behind for support. Papers, haphazard sheaves of parchment occupied every available horizontal surface. Ink pots, wax for seals, quills, and all manner of discarded notes littered the desk, forming a second layer over the forms and reports. Squirrelled into every nook and cranny were books, letters, instruments for measuring or writing even more. And on top of at least half of it a generous layer of dust had collected.

“Shit!” Levi swore, this time with passion.

“I know, where do we even start?” Mike intoned, the despair already obvious in the flatness of his admission.

“I don’t know…” Levi murmured, turning in a slow circle as he took in the mess. “Let’s start by making a pile of shit we can throw away.”

“Why not start with the books or-”

“No,” Levi cut Mike off, “first we throw away any obvious trash. Next we clean the bookshelves. We put all these books away, then start on the papers. We need to go in order, top to bottom, and the floor will be last,” Levi ticked them off on his fingers. “We’ll need a duster, water, vinegar, soap, rags, and a mop.” He looked at Mike.

“O- okay?” Mike stammered. Levi’s eyes narrowed and Mike recovered quickly. “Right. You get the supplies. I’ll start with the trash.”

An uneasy truce had commenced.

Levi hadn’t thought it would be easy, but it was even harder to get started than he’d thought. Deciding what was needed and what wasn’t was difficult, and Mike kept turning around from wherever he stood, offering up a half-full inkpot, a crumpled letter, even a battered map for Levi’s approval. “I don’t know- just- just- put it to the side,” Levi found himself snapping. “We’ll figure it out later,” he relented a second later, knowing Mike wasn’t doing it to make him angry. They needed to work together and Levi could use all the help he could get.

After a half hour of throwing things out, Levi pronounced them ready to move on to the next step. It was obvious who would be dusting the bookshelves- the highest shelf was well above Levi’s reach. He handed over the duster with a grim look, and set to the task of wiping dust off the covers of books. They worked silently for a while, this task more clear-cut. Mike dusted, and though it wasn’t as thorough of a clean as Levi wished (he itched to scrub the shelves down with vinegar and water)- but with their limited time it was more than good enough. Levi cleaned books, placing them into different stacks as he did so, trying to give some sense to their eventual order. When Mike was through dusting he began to shelve the books Levi had set aside without prompting, allowing space on the shelves to accommodate the arrangement as Levi went.

The books disappeared from the floor, then the desk, and finally the few hiding under papers or knocked behind furniture were located and put in their rightful places. When Levi paused, inspecting their work for a moment, he had to admit that they’d done an okay job. So far, Levi reminded himself. “Papers next,” he commented, and Mike grunted in agreement.

The papers were harder to get a hold on, and between Mike and Levi they finally settled on a system of ‘toss’, ‘file’, and ‘unfinished’. It was minimal, but staring at letters, forms, reports, and receipts in a few dozen variations of nearly unreadable cursive or urgent print was already giving Levi a headache.

That was probably why when Mike started talking he didn’t even bother telling him to shut up.

“You’re not bad at this,” Mike commented, and Levi wasn’t surprised to have his own words thrown back at him. Mike was big and mostly blond, but he wasn’t actually that dumb.

“What of it?”

“Nothing. Just surprised.”

“That I can clean?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugged, flipping through a stack of papers and sorting them into the piles they’d designated. He stared at a letter, bringing it closer to his nose as he squinted at the signature. “Well, that you’re so good at it, too. I didn’t know where to start. You did.”

“Well, cleanliness is important,” Levi said.

“Huh?” Mike’s grunted question made Levi’s brows pull together. He shouldn’t have to explain this.

“The Underground is dirty. It’s filthy. It’s full of disease, and waste, and death. You can’t fight your way out of that. You need to stay clean. You need to stay fed,” he pointed out.

For a while the sound of papers shuffling was all that filled the room.

Mike broke the silence cautiously. “So that’s why you were upset. About dinner. I didn’t realize. Food… must have been scarce in the Underground.”

Levi didn’t look at Mike when he responded. “Yes.”

The rest of the job went more quickly. They had figured out how to move around one another, how to divide the work most effectively, and use each other’s strengths. Levi was obsessive when it came to details. Mike was more general, his energy level high but his attention span short. They found it worked best when Mike tackled the bigger areas for a good once-over and left the finishing touches to Levi.

They didn’t talk much as they went. The silence was no longer uncomfortable. A few times, though, Levi thought he heard something. A low tone, off and on, rising and dipping just over and under the edge of a volume he could make out. Finally, Levi realized it was coming from Mike’s direction. As he reached up high, wiping a soapy rag over the top panes of the window behind Erwin’s desk, a clear high note gave him away- Mike was humming. Pausing for a moment, Levi listened. The notes were familiar but it wasn’t any melody he knew. He puzzled over it for a minute, before realizing he was staring. Levi turned away, not wanting to be caught. The tone was a little nasal, but it wasn’t annoying. There was no reason to bring it up, to make it uncomfortable for either of them. Mike could carry a tune well enough, and it lightened the mood.

As the lunchtime hour neared Levi began to think they might actually meet their deadline - the books were taken care of, the papers had been organized, the surface of the desk was visible and clean, and he was about ready to start mopping the floor when Mike walked over to the desk.

“We already did the papers and the desk,” Levi commented.

“I know. But something’s weird…” Mike muttered, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He sniffed once, then again, head turning as he took a few steps toward Erwin’s chair. “Something smells…” he trailed off, bending down and taking a few quick sniffs close to the drawers. “No…” He moved down to the next. “No…-” then “-yes.” Mike opened the drawer and peered inside. Pulling out a tin and straightening up, he fixed the metal box with a wary glance. With a thud he threw it onto the desktop. “Let’s throw this out.”

“What is it?” Levi asked.

“Don’t know. Smells bad.”

“Like...? Nevermind,” Levi stopped himself, swiping the tin off the desk and prying it open. When the lid popped off, Levi wished it hadn’t. Grimacing in disgust, he stared at the moldy blue-green contents, immediately dropping it back into the wood. “Oi, what is-”

“Cookies,” Mike supplied after sampling the air with another deep sniff. “Those were probably cookies. Sugar and butter, anyway.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Suppressing a shiver of disgust, Levi frowned at the putrid tin. “Why would Erwin…”

“Erwin’s always had a sweet tooth,” Mike shrugged, unfazed by the spoiled treats.

“Still, that’s disgusting. And a waste.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” Mike admitted, “but, well- food may not be too scarce, but there’s something else Erwin lacks that makes him like this.”

“What’s that?” Levi asked, his attention turning from the garbage to Mike’s words.

“Time.”

Considering the simple response, Levi slowly nodded. He hadn’t thought about it much before, but he realized now that he seldom saw Erwin on the training fields. Sometimes he’d lead his squad in drills, but more often he was holed up here in his office. Planning formations, strategizing for expeditions, organizing supplies and filing reports- Erwin was probably doing more than his fair share as a Squad Leader. The way he’d spoken with them, so honest, about fighting together, bubbled up to the front of Levi’s mind. Erwin had meant it. Mike understood. But Levi had been too stubborn to see it.

Levi opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Mike reached out with one big hand and flipped the lid of the tin closed. He picked the whole thing up in one hand and whisked it off the desk. “I got it,” he said. With that he walked across the room, and tossed the tin into the bin that had been collecting trash. “Anything else we need to toss?” he asked Levi. Recovering from the realization, Levi shook his head. Mike opened the door, hefting the bin off the floor. “Be back.”

In the time it took Mike to take the trash away and come back, Levi had gotten halfway through mopping the floor. When Mike entered the office he paused only for a moment. Without being asked he gently eased the bookshelves away from the wall, and as Levi mopped underneath and behind them for probably the first time in years, he shifted the desk as well. They switched places, Mike moving the furniture back as Levi finished off the rest of the floor.

When Levi dipped the mop back into the bucket for the final time, he heard Mike speak.

“You know, we never did get to find out who’s Humanity’s Strongest.”

“Huh,” Levi grunted.

“I’m up for a rematch if you want.”

A rematch. Levi paused, staring into the greyish water, only a few suds still clinging to the bucket’s edge.

Did he want that? Was he still angry at Mike?

“Nah. Doesn’t matter.” The answer might have surprised Levi only a few short hours ago, but even as he said it he knew it was true.

#levi ackerman #mike zacharias #shingeki no kyojin #snk veterans secret santa #snkvets ss #i got kind of carried away with how long this way #but i had so much fun writing it #thanks so much for your request tonya #it was super fun #and have a very happy holiday #mywriting

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jwillowwolf · 3 years

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Magic and Miracles - Chapter 10

Sanders Sides Big Bang fic, Chapter 10!

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter > | Masterlist

(Art by @just-a-pintrovert)

Summary: “Hey, Virgil, what’s this?” Remus asked, pointing at the large flat box thing mounted on the wall.

“A tv.”

“Oh… what’s a tv?”

Warning/s: food mention.

Tag List: s: Logan, Virgil, OCs, Roman, Remy, Remus, Patton, Janus, Emile.

Tag List: @theimprobabledreamersworld @remy-please-come-back

Read on Ao3

10 | This is Not a Place of Logic

“Nico and Thomas have been kidnapped.”

"Did you just say, Thomas and Nico? As in the King and Prince Consort?" Willow asked.

"Yes. They were abducted earlier along with the Magic Council." Remy stated.

The others began asking more questions about the incident but Logan didn't listen to them. Instead, he focused on Virgil's face. He saw little colour in his pale skin slowly fade away. His grey eyes became cold and dull, like a stone, and he stared at Remy. His breathing was beginning to become short and erratic. He began to sway on his legs as if they'd suddenly become numb.

"Virgil," Logan said gently. "Virgil, please look at me."

Virgil turned his blank gaze to Logan.

"Can I touch you?"

Virgil nodded weakly.

Logan took his hand and guided him outside the room, to the hallway where they could sit alone on a bench. The moment Virgil was sat down, he let out a choked sob. Logan began to comfortingly rub his back, then found himself wrapped in a hug.

He froze in shock for a moment, before he began to hug Virgil back. Holding him close as he cried into his shoulder like a scared child. It was metaphorically heartbreaking for Logan to hear, but he could not let go. He had no other way to comfort him at the moment, so for now he would just hold him.

After some time, Virgil pulled away. “Th-thank you.”

“No problem… How are you feeling?”

“…I’m not sure how to describe it... Scared... Lost... Alone...”

“I don’t know how comforting this may be but, you are most definitely not alone. You have our friends, Remy, and me.”

Virgil perked up a bit. “That is very a lot more comforting than you know.”

“Ehem,” the boys looked up to see Remy was standing in the doorway. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but you probably didn’t hear all the details of what happened.”

Virgil nodded and motioned for Remy to fill them in.

“Thomas, Nico, and the Magic Council were having their quarterly meeting to discuss the kingdom’s magical balance. During said meeting, someone cast a strange spell that caused everyone inside the meeting room to disappear. The caster was found dead on site, having used their MP and HP to cast this spell.”

“Was there any evidence on where the caster came from?”

Remy paused and took a deep breath to steady himself. “The caster… was a fae...”

“What?”

“The caster was a fae person. We don’t know who or even how they got into the realm.”

“Has anyone talked to Tía Tanya or Dune?”

“Joan has been named regent while your parents are… missing, and they sent a messenger to fill me in. I’m going to go and talk with Tanya and Dune, then we’ll need to send someone through to the Fae realm to inform your grandmother.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll come with you then.”

“What? No! You need to stay here where you’re safe.”

“I can’t stay here and do nothing. Besides, you would need me to help with opening the realm gate and getting an audience with my grandmother.”

“Virgil, it won’t be safe, especially if I’m the only one guarding you.”

“We can guard him,” Remus said from behind Remy.

Remy narrowed his eyes. “Who is we?”

“Us, the class,” Janus answered. “We’ve been trained in combat and can wield magic.”

“And are only fifteen.” Remy pointed out.

“We’re young, but that doesn’t make us helpless,” Willow replied. “We faced down that giant mole, all together. The seven of us are a lot harder to take down than you think.”

Logan nodded. “You need Virgil’s help, and we can help to protect him. Plus, if there are people here who want to hurt him, then the best thing to do is probably take him somewhere safe, like to his grandmother.”

Remy sighed. “We don’t even know if the fae realm is secure, Logan.”

“But it would be safer than here, right?”

Remy groaned. “Emile, help me here.”

Emile was quiet a moment and looked directly at his son. “I know I won’t be able to change your mind. You’re too much like your mother for that. Just… Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Logan nodded. “I promise dad.”

“We’ll all be taking care of each other, Mr Picani. Don’t worry,” Roman assured.

Emile smiled. “Well then, I think you’ll all do great.”

Remy looked horrified but he knew he couldn’t win this fight. Virgil, Logan, and the rest of the class would all be going with him to the fae realm whether he liked it or not. Or maybe he could get Tanya to talk this lunacy out of them.

---

“Brilliant idea, darling,” Tanya complimented. “Taking Virgil and his friends will get you to Valeria without any problems about your identity and whatnot.”

Dune nodded agreeingly. “The only thing I am concerned about is the children’s lack of protection.”

“We do have our weapons and magic,” Remus stated.

“That’s good dear, but I think that you’ll need some added protection. Hmm, here,” Dune brought out a box with some beaded bracelets. “These are enchanted with protection spells. Each of you can take one and it’ll be as good as dressing you in full plate armour.”

“These are so beautiful. Thank you so much, Mx Dune,” Patton said

Dune smiled. “It’s nothing really, dear. I’m glad you like them.”

Not to be impatient, but can we get going? Virgil asked.

“Right. You’ll need to be as fast as you can to get the news to your grandmother. I wish the mirrors were working so we didn’t have to send you all off so quickly, but I believe that you will do brilliantly. Follow me to the gate then!” Tanya said, briskly walking out of the room where they had been debriefing her and Dune on the situation.

There were some stairs down to the portal gate, which Logan was very grateful for. He didn't mind flying in Virgil’s arms last time of course, but he wasn’t quite sure that Virgil would carry him this time around. It also meant he was able to take in the brilliant architecture as they descended, so of course he loved that. He didn’t quite love the aching in his limbs when they finally reached the bottom of the stairs but it was so worth it.

At the bottom of the stairs was a lovely area full of rich green vegetation. It looked very much like an enchanted garden, which was impressive considering how far underground they were. At the centre of this garden, there was a tall archway made from black stone with strange runes carved all around it. Tanya and Virgil walked over to this arch and stood directly in front of it a moment.

“You remember how to activate it?” Tanya asked.

Virgil nodded and held his hand out towards the arch.

Tanya did the same and they began to chant in unison, some strange words from a language that Logan had never heard before. Their voices seemed to echo with an ancient power and their hands that were outstretched began to glow with purple light. The runes on the archway glowed with the same strange light which bled into the opening of the arch until it was like there was a door of purple light there.

Once the chanting was done, the light from Virgil and Tanya’s hands faded away, but the light in the archway remained bright as ever.

“There you go, the portal is now active. I’ll make sure to keep it open for you so you can return whenever.”

“Thank you, Tanya,” Remy said. “You kids ready to go?”

The teens all glanced at each other. It had been one thing to agree to help their friend in his time of need, but right now the reality was setting in. They would be leaving behind their homes and families for gods know how long to visit a realm inhabited by a race they didn’t know very much about. Despite all of that, however, it took them less than a moment to decide this was right.

They could feel it in their souls. This was something they had to do. They were ready to do whatever it took to help their friend. It didn’t matter what was on the other side of that porthole because they would be facing it together.

“Well?”

“We’re ready.”

One by one, they walked through the archway. Oddly enough, it felt like walking through a normal doorway, except their skin tingled a bit as the magical light made contact. On the other side, there was a garden that looked nearly identical to where they had just been, except the magnificent greenery was now blue. They also seemed to be on top of a cliff, overlooking a city made of tall glass towers that reflected the bright green sky above.

“Um, is it supposed to be that colour?” Roman asked, pointing to the sky.

“Hmm, oh, yeah,” Virgil answered. “There are a lot of strange things in the fae realm but they’re harmless… mostly.”

“That’s reassuring,” Janus muttered.

“Well, I like it!” Remus declared.

“This place is insane,” Willow stage whispered.

Virgil laughed. “You guys haven’t seen anything yet. Follow me.”

He led them away from the cliff’s edge to a quaint little house that seemed to be strangely overgrown with vines. On the porch of this house, there was a woman sitting reading a book. When she looked up to see the group coming out of the garden gate, her eyes went wide.

“Prince Virgil! What brings you here?”

“I need to see my grandmother. It’s urgent.”

“Well, she’s in the city, of course. I can drive you and your friends over there quickly. Um, if all of you need to go through, I’ll need to get Doug to drive a second car.”

“Great. Sorry for being so rushed.”

“It’s no problem, dear. I’ll fetch Doug.”

“Uh, what’s a car?” Patton asked.

“Well, it’s like a carriage, but it’s powered by magic to drive around without horses,” Virgil explained.

Remus tilted his head to the side. “That sounds crazy... I like this place even more now!”

The cars were indeed very strange. They seemed to be formed from glass and steel, with wheels covered in rubber, and an ‘engine’ that hummed with life as they drove down the mountainside and into the city. At a closer glance, the group saw that the towers were indeed made with many large glass windows, although some seemed to be tinted for privacy. The roads between the towers had many cars driving up and down them, and still, there was an uncountable amount of fae folk walking on the ‘sidewalks’.

The group drove directly to the largest tower at the very centre of the city, which Virgil said was the palace. Once they got out of the cars, a man standing by the door saw Virgil and fished out a small handheld device which he talked into before walking over.

He bowed. “Prince Virgil, welcome back to the Fae Realm.”

“Thank you. Would you please have my grandmother alerted I’m here?”

“Uh, yes, sir. I’ve already called for someone to come and fetch your luggage.”

“We don’t have any.”

“Oh, well, then allow me to escort you to a room to freshen up.”

“I need to speak with my grandmother.”

“Please, sir, I was told to take you to a room.”

Virgil frowned impatiently. “Alright then. Lead the way.”

The man led them into the building’s reception room, and then through a pair of sliding doors into a box room called ‘an elevator’. The doors closed by themselves and the man pressed one of the many buttons beside the door. Logan felt his stomach lurch as the elevator rose up, quickly passing floor after floor until finally, it got to the one he assumed was their destination.

The floor they arrived on was huge, with a sunken lounge area, a small kitchen, and a wall straight ahead that looked like it was made entirely out of the window. The teens looked around in awe at the strange wonders of the room while Virgil tried talking their guide into taking them to his grandmother. The man deflected his request however and declared he would return shortly with some snacks for the group before departing via the elevator.

Virgil groaned. “How didn’t he understand the word urgent. I’ll need to talk to gran about this.”

“Hey, Virgil, what’s this?” Remus asked, pointing at the large flat box thing mounted on the wall.

“A tv.”

“Oh… what’s a tv?”

“It’s for watching movies and stuff. Here, you use this remote to control it,” Virgil explained before turning it on to display a moving picture of what appeared to be a fae person dancing.

“Woah. How does it do that?” Roman asked.

Virgil shrugged. “Magic.”

“Is everything in the fae realm made to use magic?” Logan inquired.

“Well, most things do. Here, everyone has access to the use of magic and magical items are used for most daily tasks, like cleaning, cooking, going places, and even speaking with people via mirrors.”

“This is incredible.” Patton said, staring at the tv which now was showing a kitten dancing.

“Yeah, it’s cool, but we need to go guys-”

Virgil was cut off by a loud sound from the kitchen, which turned out to be Remy using some small device that looked like a glass jug?

“Sorry, kid, what were you saying?”

“Are you making an iced coffee right now?”

“These things are amazing, and we don’t have blenders in the other realm.”

“What’s an iced coffee?” Janus inquired.

“A drink from the heavens themselves,” Remy declared, pouring the drink out of the blender. “Here, have a taste.”

Janus wearily took the cup and sniffed its contents before taking a sip. “Oh… That’s bitter. And so good.”

Remy grinned. “I know, right?”

“Hello, people, we’re on a mission here,” Virgil tried reminding them.

Unfortunately, Remy and Janus were preoccupied with a discussion about iced coffee, and everyone else was captivated by the tv.

“Fine, I’ll just go deliver the message alone!”

Logan looked away from the TV at that. “I can come with you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we didn’t come here for this. I’m sure I can look at everything later.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks, Logan. Follow me.”

They both got into the elevator and took it to a different floor with a long grand hallway that Logan could barely keep track of as they went left and right, and up some stairs, then left again -or was it right?- then down some stairs, then another direction? And finally, they came to some huge doors that Logan assumed led to the throne room.

“How is there so much space on this floor?” Logan questioned.

“It’s the fae realm, L, if it doesn’t make sense, just assume it’s magic.” Virgil said before pushing the doors open and walking into the throne room.

Logan followed half a step behind Virgil, but nearly walked into him a few minutes later when he froze. Logan looked around Virgil to see what made him stop and noted that there was a man sitting on the throne. And if Virgil’s reaction were anything to go by, then that man wasn’t meant to be there.

“Prince Virgil! It’s so wonderful to see you again after so long! My goodness, you’ve really grown since I last saw you.”

“It is good to see you as well, Earl Ynclementia, but where is my grandmother?”

The earl’s expression turned sorrowful. “I am afraid that she is unwell, your highness. She’s confined to her bed with terrible sickness and no one but the doctors are allowed to see her. They won’t even let me in there.”

“She’s sick? How?”

“We’re not sure, your highness. We were going to actually send someone to tell your parents immediately when we realised that the mirrors were not working for inter-realm communication.”

“When did she get sick?”

“Only two days ago. As I said, we were going to inform your parents immediately, but there were complications.”

“Do the doctors know what she has?”

“I’m afraid not. Or if they do, they haven’t told me.”

Virgil looked absolutely crestfallen. Logan couldn’t blame him considering all that was happening. His parents were missing and his grandmother was stuck sick in bed. It was understandable that Virgil would be devastated. However, as quickly as Virgil’s sadness appeared, it disappeared. His face became stoic and he looked up at the Earl with a critical eye.

“I need to see my grandmother.”

“Your highness, like I said, even I’m not allowed to see her. The doctors fear her illness may be contagious. You should go home to inform your parents of what’s happened.”

“I will contact them via my mirror.”

“Your highness the mirrors aren’t working.”

“Mine is working just fine. I used it to call my parents and tell them I was safe when I got here.”

“O-oh? You called... your parents?”

“Yes. I’ll call again to tell them what's going on here. I assume you’re currently acting as regent.”

“Ah, yes. I am.”

“Good, they’ll be glad to hear that. If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll inform them at once.”

Virgil turned around before the earl could say anything else, grabbed Logan’s hand and promptly marched out of the room. Logan was very confused about why he’d just lied like that to the earl, but he waited until they were alone in the halls to say anything. When he tried to ask though, Virgil put a finger over his lips and looked around suspiciously first.

“I am quite sure we’re alone,” Logan stated.

“Good, because I think that we’ve walked ourselves into the lion’s den.”

“What?”

“Call me crazy, but things around here are too… calm. If my grandmother were really sick in bed then we wouldn’t even have been able to park out front without getting harassment from the press.”

“Press?”

“News Reporters. People who keep the common folk informed for a living.”

“Couldn’t they be trying to keep things secret to stop any panic?”

“People are naturally gossipy, Logan. Someone would have let it slip to the news by now. Something isn’t right here...”

“...We need to get back to the others.”

---

A/N: thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. I'll be posting two chapters a day until the full fic is up, so if you want to be tagged, you can just ask.

I'd love to hear what you thought about the chapter if you wouldn't mind commenting. Thanks again for reading! Here's hoping you have a magical day 💜

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quarterfromcanon · 4 years

Note

27-29 for the get to know my favorites game

Hello, lovely! Thank you for these. :) Trios turned out to be a surprising challenge (I apparently have more favorite groups of four than three), but I’m pretty happy with the ones I remembered after giving it some thought. The final picks are under the cut! <3

Top 5 BROTPs

1. Paula Proctor & Rebecca Bunch (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) - Naturally, this was the immediate choice that sprang to mind. It’s the first relationship on the show I really fell in love with, and it’s the one friendship in the series that consistently tugs on my heartstrings. It’s flawed, complicated, and messy but the genuine connection underneath it all is strong enough that I’m hopeful they can work through their problems. I would’ve preferred to see more emphasis on that effort in the fourth season (and a lot more work on Rebecca’s friendships with Heather and Valencia as well), but I want to believe things improved between them after the finale.

2. Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley (Stranger Things) - The general public opinion of Steve Harrington has been on such a journey since Season 1, bringing him now to a status of common fan favorite. As such, I think a delicate balance needed to be struck in finding a suitable match to team up with him on adventures. This person needed to:

A) Have good chemistry in their interactions with Steve

B) Bring a new dynamic to the table that he didn’t already have with an existing connection

and most importantly

C) Be a unique and engaging character that the audience would care about individually, so they didn’t get lost in simply being an offshoot of Steve’s story. They couldn’t be relegated to perpetual sidekick with little else to define them.

As far as I’m concerned, Robin Buckley fits the bill on every account. She’s artistic, resilient, loyal, and - especially endearing to me - a movie buff. She has a quick wit, a sharp mind, and a big heart. Being friends with Robin helps Steve take the specter of his high school self less seriously so he can put it behind him, and she helps him more fully embrace the person he’s becoming in the wake of that lost status. Having Steve for a friend helps Robin resolve some lingering emotional scars from school as well. It gives her an opportunity to share her authentic self with a peer and - to her relief and ours - find acceptance after revealing a pretty important secret. I can’t wait to watch the two of them be adorably nerdy and goofy bros at Family Video in Season 4, presumably with some daring fights against dark forces when they’re off the clock. Does saying I hope Kali comes to Hawkins somehow and bonds with one or both of them mean I can speak that into existence? I’m doing that now. It’s worth a try. If it happens in some capacity when the time comes, know that I will throw a One Blogger Party of epic proportions.

3. Wynonna Earp & Nicole Haught (Wynonna Earp) - I had to use this specific screencap because it perfectly encapsulates the chaotic energy that makes me loves these two together so much. Their separate approaches to their shared work environment are at pretty much polar opposite ends of the spectrum, but they make a pretty solid team when they play to each other’s strengths and communicate. They also both love Waverly most of all, so it feels like they were bound to work out their differences eventually since neither would want to make her feel torn between her sister and her girlfriend. The hijinks they get up to in each other’s company are just top shelf. I look forward to at least a little bit of fun like that from every season. If I wind up having a lasting partner later on down the road, it’d be cool if their personality balanced well with my sister’s on this level. I’d also be really happy if I ultimately gelled with her person in a way that sounded unlikely at first but worked. Fingers crossed for both outcomes, but I guess we’ll have to wait and see.

4. Emily Thorne [Amanda Clarke] & Nolan Ross (Revenge) - I have two things to quickly clarify for those who are unfamiliar with this show.

#1 She has two listed names because she was born Amanda Clarke but goes by Emily Thorne for most of the series to hide her true identity.

#2 Despite the impression this picture may give, Nolan is not marrying Emily; he is simply walking her down the aisle.

These two are there for each other through so much - the looming threat of discovery, jail time, capture, near death experiences, heartbreak, the passing of loved ones, etc. - and they make it to the other side with a deep bond the likes of which they’ll never experience with another person. It is at times heavily one-sided because of how much drama Emily deliberately dives into, but it’s something that she tries to make up for during her more self-aware and less self-involved times. There’s genuine love and mutual respect there by the finale and it’s really gratifying to witness the journey they’ve taken together.

[~Slightly spoiler-y closing statement after these brackets~] I was pretty sure I knew where the show was going with romantic ships by the end. I knew for certain it wasn’t my personal OTP for her because they’d already killed that person off quite some time ago. There was a part of me that could’ve found some contentment in leaving the story with these two as a couple. After all, one of my favorite ship dynamics is Reluctant Acquaintances to Best Friends to Lovers, but it was not to be. That being said, the platonic friendship they shared was a big part of the heart of the show and I cherish it for that. Nolan was a rare exception for Emily, a genuine bond formed in the years when she was tried to operate like her heart was made of stone. I also think working with Emily gave Nolan a sense of purpose and let him flourish in his area of expertise. I’m not sure how either of them would feel about the musical reference but, to slightly paraphrase from Wicked: because they knew each other, they have been changed for good.

5. Penelope Stamp & Bang Bang (The Brothers Bloom) - I have seen Rachel Weisz and Rinko Kikuchi in more roles since this movie than I had prior to watching it for the first time so, if anything, my fangirling over this friendship has gotten worse rather than more manageable. x) This post classified the film under the subgenre whimsical noir. It turns out that’s a style I instantly adore every time I stumble upon it. One of the titular brothers, Stephen, lives so deeply immersed in the variations of the world he writes for their heists that even those closest to him are essentially characters he can interact with on a daily basis. His feelings for them as people can get very muddled with his feelings for them as interesting OCs to move through narratives. A big trouble with this is that his living archetypes can often get reduced to clichés. He’s not always mindful of their nuances or allowing for the full range of their autonomy. Penelope is selected by Stephen to serve as the “manic pixie dream girl” who will be his brother Bloom’s forever love and Bang Bang is essentially presented as a “dragon lady” stereotype. I haven’t done a rewatch in years so I may be giving the movie too much credit here, but I remember this choice feeling at least semi-deliberate. It could be interpreted as a way to illustrate how Stephen warps real life to fit his vision. At least, I can definitely remember scenes that felt like they debunked the one-note assessments of these two. What I genuinely love, though, are the little moments when Penelope and Bang Bang are able to just spend time together with little to no interference from Stephen or Bloom. They share their hobbies and teach each other new skills. It feels like they truly perceive one another as whole human beings on a level that neither guy is capable of doing since they’re both so immersed in the drama of the plot. When the women are with each other, they get to be more than an extension of the men who maneuver them; they get to be themselves. Penelope is the only one Bang Bang clearly wants to maintain contact with once the heist is finished. I think that says a lot. Honestly, this is another BROTP that could slide to OTP. If someone wrote fic of them completely severing ties with the brothers and going off on their own - romantically or platonically - I wouldn’t be upset at all.

Top 5 Trios

1. Luke, Leia, & Han (Star Wars Episodes IV - VI) - Oh dear, I’m overwhelmed just looking at a picture of them together. Star Wars has been a part of my life since childhood. Getting to watch the original trilogy felt like a rite of passage (when I was really little, Mom used to find things for us to do outside the room while Dad watched because she was afraid some of it might scare me). Princess Leia resounded with me on a level that almost no other fictional royalty has ever quite matched. Han’s wardrobe is still some serious #aestheticgoals and I would 100% wear replicas of his jackets and vests if I had them. I also remember thinking that Luke’s new look in Return of the Jedi was SO COOL with the all-black wardrobe and green lightsaber. Wow, imagine that, an edgy costume change that shared vibes with the common Disney villain color palette called to me as a baby fan of antagonists and antiheroes! Who ever could have foreseen that sudden spike in appreciation? :P Anyway, one of my lingering sorrows about the more recent trilogy is that we never got to see all three of them as aged adults in each other’s company. I still wanted our new cast to get their time to shine, of course, but I do lament the absence of at least one little trio reunion.

2. Luna, Neville, & Ginny (Harry Potter series) - The Silver Trio, pictured here with the first set of three that comes to mind when thinking about the books and movies. I do still love Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but I’ve found a growing appreciation for this other team-up over the years. They’ve been through a lot too, even if they are not always present where the main action is. Bullying, loss of parents, manipulation of the mind and body, abuse at the hands of authority figures - they’re all left with internal (and probably external) scars to bear. There’s also something to be said for how strong they all were in the school year set during Deathly Hallows, when the Golden Trio wasn’t around to inspire and unite those who wanted to stand up to ever-increasing tyranny. It can be easy, unfortunately, for them to get written off based on the oversimplified stereotypes that have gotten associated with them. People remember Luna as being weird and spacey, Neville as awkward and hapless, and Ginny as bland and lovestruck. They’re all far more nuanced than that, and they accomplish great things while fighting for and beside their friends. I’m planning on doing a re-read of the books at some point, and I really look forward to revisiting these brave kids.

3. Irma, Marion, & Miranda (Picnic at Hanging Rock) - Ah, yes, my very recently discovered darlings. I have many thoughts about them all. I’ll try to keep this as condensed as I can while still making sense. Some spoilers will follow, although those won’t answer every question the story poses. There are audience members who ship the above characters as a throuple, which I totally get, but for me it’s like soulmates of a different kind. These three have met at a point in their lives when they all burn with compatible intensity. They long for the same dream version of youth, for a way to begin life free from the confines of a world that won’t accept all their hearts contain. While the people that surround them may not be willing to bend the rules, nature itself appears to show them mercy. How often do we see a story of girls who just... love other women so much that a sacred location goes, “Y’know what? I’m gonna help you escape your restrictive society. Permanently.” This miniseries definitely depicts the setting as being involved in messing with the investigation, as a mystical place that befuddles unwanted intruders. I love the way these three fortify each other in times of pain and fear, and there’s something deeply moving about how standing side-by-side helps them defy the odds.

4. Sarah, Alison, & Cosima (Orphan Black) - Okay so, technically, when I picture our core team in this show, the net is a little wider. My mind tends to also include Felix, Mrs. S., Kira, Helena, Donnie, Delphine, and Scott. However, I think you could kinda argue that those characters have a stronger connection to one of the above three than they do to the other two. Thus, this ends up being the central triangle. They’re all such solid performances and the fact they’re all played by the same person is incredibly impressive (not to mention the, like, twelve other clones Tatiana brings to life throughout the series). Watching them go from tense strangers to sestras was wonderful. I’m glad they had each other through the increasingly complicated web of lies and schemes they had to unravel and survive.

5. Galavant, Sid, & Isabella (Galavant) - Remember how James Marsden was in Enchanted? If you dialed down the deliberately cartoonish quality of that performance and allowed for more not-so-G-rated humor, I feel like you’d have a general sense of what Galavant is like as a character. Sid is his squire and Isabella is a princess whose mission happens to combine with Galavant’s, albeit fueled by different driving motivations. They find themselves involved in a lot of shenanigans because of Galavant - even in his own universe, he’s into the whole dashing knight thing more than is strictly necessary - but they make a fun little team to follow through the world of this musical television series. I’ve gotten fuzzy on the details since I watched it air live four years ago, but I remember the series being enough of a summer feel-good time that I’d be game to revisit the show again someday.

Top 5 Family Relationships

1. Stevie Budd & The Roses (Schitt’s Creek) - The whole fish-out-of-water setup for this series was already pretty fun in and of itself, especially given how outlandish their lifestyles evidently were before the show begins. The thing that makes it special, though, is how the absence of all their expensive distractions finally helps them prioritize being a family. The Roses do a lot of work to reconcile who they were with who they find themselves becoming in the present. It’s sweet to see them collectively conclude that growing closer to each other is one of the few things they do not regret in the slightest. They also silently agree to adopt Stevie along the way and, boy, does that give me a lot of Big Feelings, particularly in the later seasons.

2. River Song & The Ponds (Doctor Who) - I think it’s been like seven years or so, give or take, since I watched Doctor Who with any regularity. These three have resurfaced in my mind many times since then. They all love with such fierce and unwavering devotion, spanning lifetimes. It’s fascinating - and often heartbreaking - to learn about the things they’ve experienced and endured. Oh gosh, and once the show reveals how River’s story overlaps with theirs, and you pay attention to how she looks at them, IT HURTS but it’s so engaging to watch. The emotions are all flooding back just remembering them now. Argh, what great characters... </3

3. The Tico Sisters (Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi) - Rose appears in two installments of the third trilogy, but this is the episode that has both Tico daughters. We never get to see them interact onscreen in the film, but I still feel the bond between these sisters so intensely. I found out later that Kelly was present for the filming of Paige’s death scene (which happens so early in the movie that it doesn’t feel like a big spoiler - please forgive me if it is). I’m glad that was something they decided to do behind-the-scenes, because it definitely informs Rose’s grief. She’s sitting in the dark, picturing her big sister’s final moments with such horribly vivid detail that it feels like she was there, and yet she can’t do anything to change how it ends. The shape of the sisters’ necklaces immediately establishes that they were a unit even when acting independently, that they felt like two halves of a whole - all they had left of their family. Now there is only one, and that fact is a weight around Rose’s neck both figuratively and literally. It serves as a visual reminder of how she carries Paige’s absence always, trying to discover and embrace who she is on her own while still honoring the memory of a relative she loved so deeply. I think she reaches the end of Episode VIII feeling like she’s someone of whom her sister would be quite proud. I’m very proud of her, too.

4. The Tyler Siblings (Wonderfalls) - Jaye is comically different than the rest of her family, and the show establishes that right out the gate when we learn that she’s the only one whose name doesn’t rhyme with the rest (left to right, the others are Karen, Sharon, Darrin, and Aaron, respectively). Her relationships with her parents could certainly lead me off on some analytical tangents but, predictably, it’s the sibling stuff that interests me more. I think it could be said that all three do more living inside their heads than they do out in the world, and that they’ve all grown up to be borderline loners (Ironically Jaye, who is considered the most troubled, is the only one I remember being shown to have formed and maintained a friendship). Aaron’s a very philosophical and analytical person, so you get the sense he talks to himself more than to others, although he still manages to resurface from those deep contemplations so he can goad and tease his sisters from time to time. Sharon is high-strung, competitive, and brings that “disaster lesbian” energy to basically every social interaction she has. Jaye’s standoffishness seems to stem from both the difficulty of fitting in with people and the fear that connections will fall apart once they manage to form at all. They’re all just messes trying to make the best out of the situations they face, and I appreciate that. I also enjoy how prominently the Jaye and Sharon sister bond features throughout the show’s only season. It starts out on pretty rocky ground, but they grow a lot in regard to how willing they are to communicate and express their love for one another.

5. The Brothers Proctor (Crazy Ex-Girlfriend) - The family dynamics in their house are in need of some serious work, without a doubt. I’m just really touched by how close these two have become without Paula’s notice. It’s possible they always were, in that we-fight-but-we-care way that siblings can often be, but the supportive side of that really moves to the forefront as they get older in the series and it warms my heart. There’s such a glaring difference between The Household As Paula Views It and Things That Are Happening While She’s Not Paying Attention. I can’t help using fic as a way to explore that. I happily find excuses for her sons to make pop-in appearances, just to check up on them. I'm so pleased that, as of Season 4, they seem to have become fairly well-adjusted in spite of everything. Oh, and I am still not over the revelation that they attend renaissance festivals together, in character, for fun. What precious cuties who would no doubt dislike me referring to them as such! Paula, please give them an extra hug from me!

#About Me #Answered Asks

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myrainydayloves · 5 years

Text

On The Idea of Farms and Family

In which I post the longest fic I’ve ever written. It’s long ya’ll.

In which the gang visits old friends and are forced to help out with the up coming harvest. Featuring: family drama, a taste of angst, hurt and comfort, and more honey than most people could handle. Also featuring @blackquills-wife and her husband Klaus.

Rated T because swearing

The excitement was keeping her up. Tossing and turning as if to warm up for the long day of play tomorrow. Their family and friends were all coming to help harvest honey and fruit and vegetables then sitting down for a feast of fresh cooked food. Zed had been watching her prepare for weeks, making gallons of ice cream, ordering an entire cow from the butcher, setting aside the best ingredients, picking the most beautiful flowers, and cleaning endlessly.

All with the widest smile on her face.

Zed could still see the smile even under the bags under her eyes. And now she turned to him and blushed.

“Have I been keeping you awake? I’m so sorry!” She whispered over the sound of crickets and rustling trees.

“No, no, Annaka.” He said her name with such reverence, like just letting the syllables out would cause the mountains to move and the sky to break out in rain. “I was just thinking about how I don’t deserve you.”

And he didn’t, or so he thought. He wasn’t human like the rest of them. Zed couldn’t even help on the massive garden they planted for too long without becoming dehydrated and needing a shower. A real human could have tilled along side her, wiping the mud from her cheek-

“Not this again,” she groaned. “Zed, My Prince, I don’t deserve you! You’re the most wonderful person alive! Literally in the whole world! I adore you.”

“Ah But-“

Annaka silenced him with a kiss. “Please. You are my true love. If it’s your personality? You are my match in both art and books, outwitting me without demeaning me. You create comparisons I could never think of. I’m in awe of your brain. And of how you selflessly help others! I fell in love with you all over again when you just donated all your treasured books to the library after it burnt down. No thoughts. Just gave them to the town. And don’t get me started on your looks…”

A single finger traced down his chest and if he was able to get goosebumps, he would have them by now. She let her fingertips roll over his chest, tracing every scar with the wonder of someone discovering stars for the first time. The scent of honeysuckle blossoms from her conditioner filled his lungs as her hair curtained around them when she leaned in for another kiss.

“Annaka…”

As they laid quietly, pondering their love, Zed slowly moved into kiss her when-

“HEY YOU’D BETTER NOT BE DEEP SEA DIVING IN THERE!!”

A Zapp of electricity killed the mood.

“Son of a bitch……” she cursed. “You know what? Fuck it, let him hear. I want you-“

“I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE, ANNAKA!!” Zapp cried again from outside their front gate, banging on the wood.

“Fucking asshole, WHY ARE YOU HERE!!! I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP UNTIL TOMORROW MORNING, YOU STUPID BASTARD!!!”

“YOU FREAKIN INGRATE!!! KLAUS FIGURED YOU WOULD WANT US HERE WHILE THE BEES WERE ASLEEP!!”

“BEES DON’T SLEEP, ASSHAT-you know what? I’m just gonna frickin’ kill him. I’m just gonna chop his head off and use it for fertilizer. I’m just gonna-“

Annaka continued to whisper the other gruesome ways she planned on murdering her brother as she put on her robe. Even when she slammed the door to their room closed and walked towards the front gate, Zed could hear them screaming at each other.

Family, huh? Were all families like this?

God he certainly hoped not.

—

Annaka flung open the front gate, nearly smacking her brother in the face with it as it swung out. The Libra team stood happily, but sleepily, in front of her with Klaus already in his beesuit.

After momentarily wondering where he could have found one that fit his colossal frame, Annaka turned to glare at her brother. All the excitement and joy she had been holding to see him vanished and she was right back to wondering how satisfying it would be to make him eat dirt.

“Sorry to get here so early,” Mary apologized. “I hope we didn’t wake you up too bad.”

Zapp scoffed. “Oh she was up. And so was fishcake, showing her all the ways it can bend-OW!”

With a soft shimmer, Chain appeared on top of Zapp’s head, still in her jammies. Over the chorus of pained cries from her brother, she asked. “Do you have coffee?”

“Seconded,” Stephan grumbling, still wearing a suit despite the farmwork to come.

“I’m sure Zed’s already got a pot going. Where’s Leo?”

“Still asleep in the back,” Mary said with a small smile. “He was navigating for us up until about an hour ago when he passed out.”

“Poor thing,” Annaka cooed. “I hope he didn’t wear himself out too bad.”

“He’s so adorable when he’s sleeping, reminds me of my boys,” KK cooed, heaving the sleeping boy over her shoulder like he was a naughty fat cat.

After a few more greetings, Annaka guided them through the walled front yard. It was done in an almost perfect replica of Master’s old training ground. Everything from the rocks to the meticulously maintained meditation spiral. Zed often trained on rainy days or when there wasn’t much farming to do. Just the memories of watching his smooth graceful movements brought the smile back to her face.

“This is lovely,” Mary cooed, taken with the koi pond. “Oh my! These koi patterns are beautiful!”

“Thank you, Zed likes to care for them. And they adore him.”

“Glad to see they can recognize family,” Zapp scoffed.

Annaka punched him in the gut so hard that he fell to the ground looking for air. All without moving a single hair out of place. She smiled brightly.

“How do you like that, bro? He’s been teaching me some moves.”

“Hate it, thanks,” he groaned from his human puddle on the ground.

The group stepped over him and they entered the home. It was a relatively small living space. There were only a few rooms: a dining or maybe living area, the door to the main bedroom, and the tank room. They passed through the living space, stopping to set the exhausted Leo on the couch to sleep, and into the garden.

What Annaka liked to call her Garden of Eden.

Flowers bloomed from very vine, fruit swung heavy from trees, vegetables seemed to pop out of the ground to say hello. A stone fountain stood off to the side, water trickling over rocks and down into a stream the feed into the garden.

“Ah that’s the irrigation system!” Annaka exclaimed. “We pumped it from a near by river and then let it fall over the Stone Mountain to aerate it, and then it flows to specific parts of the garden from the bowl here! Zed designed it! Isn’t it beautiful! Oh...the afternoons I spend in the hammock, listening to the water splash over the rocks...My Prince…”

“You’re still so cute, Anna,” Mary cooed.

The girls held hands and gazed into the night sky together.

“Oh Mary, oh KK! I understand how wonderful it is to be married!”

“Yes yes! My Klaus and I are just as happy as you two! Oh joy-“

“Why the frick are we here if this is the whole garden.”

And all the joy was Zapped out of the air again.

Annaka broke from Mary and turned to him. “This is just my private Garden of Eden. Our real farm is acres big.”

“Ah! You’re here! Zapp, the wood got wet from last night, will you come light it?”

They turned to see Zed poking his head out of the window of an extremely small cottage. Annaka quickly explained that because they burn things like cornstalks and wheat stalks, things tend to get pretty smokey so they built the rooms housing the kitchen and subsequently the heater outside.

“Course they got wet from your gills touchin’ em, Ariel!” Zapp spat, making his way to the kitchen without complaint.

She continued to lead the rest of them on a tour, showing them the outdoor shower, her lovingly carved wooden platewear, her huge marble bathtub, and finally the tank room

Their bedroom was plain save the aquarium tank in the middle, except for, of course, the depictions Of Annaka in so many mediums. An oil painting of her artfully sleeping on the bed, a photo of her playing in the tulips, poems framed and hung on walls, sketches of her working in the yard. It was a shrine to her as much as it was also a bedroom.

“Oh my, this feels…” Stephan stopped himself before he said, ‘fucking weird’.

Mary finished his sentence. “So very intimate.” She said this over the sound of KK silently weeping and taking photos to send back to her husband.

“Ah, Yeah,” Annaka responded, trying to shove them out the door while protecting the blush on her cheeks. “He’s certainly added more since I was last in here….”

By then, Zed was calling them back for coffee served with the hint sunrise. Annaka pushed past Zapp into the kitchen to quickly throw together a decent breakfast, ordering the boys to go set the table under in the gazebo.

—

“Zed! How are you?” Mary cried when she saw him, wrapping him in a hug.

“Happy, I would say,” he answered, setting plates on the table. “Very happy.”

Stephan couldn’t help a playful, “Yeah, we saw your art room.”

“And it was great! Your dedication to your young wife! Your adoration of her!” KK pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’ve never seen anything like it! You’re so deeply in love.”

“Ewww gross, you like my siste-“

THUMP.

Zapp clutched the back of his head and cried, “HOW THE FUCK DID YOU HIT ME FROM THE KITCHEN! THE MASTER SHOULD HAVE TRAINED YOU FOR THE FRICKING ALLSTARS!!”

“COME HELP ME CARRY THESE DISHES, YOU AWFUL WORM!”

“I’M NOT YOUR SLAVE!! GET YOUR OWN-OW!!!! THAT’S IT!!! I’M ABOUT TO COME GIVE YOU A NOOGIE LIKE YOU’D NEVER BELIEVE!”

“AFTER YOU HELP ME CARRY BREAKFAST!!”

“F I N E!!”

Zapp trudged off to help with breakfast instead of continuing to insult Zed, who sat down at the newly set table.

Klaus leaned in, still in full bee suit and asked, “So when are we going to get the honey? We should get it before the bees wake up, correct? We don’t want to disturb them.”

“Honey, they don’t sleep,” Mary cooed, petting him. “Don’t worry, the bees are excited to meet you too.”

“What is on the docket though? Assuming it’s not just twelve straight, uninterrupted hours of Annaka and Zapp screaming at each other,” Stephan asked.

“I think it’s sweet, in a family way,” Gilbert said, sipping the coffee from his mug and finding that it tasted distinctly of chocolate and cinnamon.

Chain huffed. “I do need my hearing to work, you know.”

Klaus smiled quietly, pulling Mary a bit closer. “My siblings and I never really fought. It’s nice to see how a normal family gets along.”

“Nothing about the Renfro’s is normal,” Stephan mocked in good fun.

“Here, here,” everyone cheered, clinking coffee mugs with a laugh.

The siblings in question returned holding breakfast, setting plates upon plates of home friends potatoes that smelled like garlic and spices, thick slabs of pepper crusted bacon, farm fresh eggs still sizzling on a large pan, and loafs upon loafs of bread. (I know it’s loaves but loafs is more pleasing to the mouth) All served with fresh butter and cherry jam.

Without so much as a “Thanks for the food” the table descended on the breakfast like ravenous wolves. But the sound of silence is the highest compliment you can pay to food, sans pointing at things with your fork and going “mmm!!!”

Annaka kissed Zed when she sat down next to him and fixed him a plate like she’s done every day since they moved here. Without fail, she got up and cooked him a little something, even if it was just roasting some bread, before going back to bed.

His heart soared when she drank the coffee he poured for her and she hummed, shoulders dropping and back relaxing.

“Tastes goood buuuut-“ his heart plummeted until she stole his mug and took a big gulp. “That one tastes better.”

KK screamed with delight as he blushed. With that, the table broke into conversation about the harvest, about work, about life in general as the sun lazily crept up the side of the sky. Soon, the farm cats and dogs arose to work: scared off pests and chasing chickens out into the field before coming to beg for scraps at the table.

All to soon, breakfast was over and the day was set to start. Annaka commanded them like soldiers off to cut down men instead of fruit. She, Klaus, and Mary were on honey duties. Chain and Stephan on fetching fresh water and mushrooms from the forest(she added a small wink at Chain). KK and Gilbert on fruit trees. And finally Zapp and Zed vegetables.

“Why are you giving me the dirty work?” Zapp complained.

“With your abilities, you’ll be able to harvest the veggies in no time. And take extreme care not to hurt my melons! There are a lot this year and if we harvest them all now, we’ll be eating melon for every meal for a week.”

“K, I heard the first time you old hag.”

“Shut up and go pick my veggies.”

—

To say Klaus was buzzing with excitement was an understatement. He was floating off the ground as Annaka suited up and suited Mary up.

“You look like the cutest marshmallow,” He cooed.

“Awww and you look like a big white polar bear!”

Mary had been listening to Klaus talk about bees for a solid month and she loved her husband. But she was ready for a different topic. Despite this, she was practically drunk off his happiness. Fluttering around him like a worker bee did flowers.

“Okay, let’s go get some frames, boys,” Annaka said, slamming the door to her workshop shut. Despite the door being closed she could still smell the uncapped gasoline and paint Annaka kept in there. Family tradition, she insisted.

Mary questioned why Annaka was dragging such a huge wagon behind them until the hives came into view. There must have been two dozen hives, all four frames tall, standing in the field.

After motioning them over, Annaka pried the box lid off and a swarm of bees greeted them. Worker bees buzzed around them for a bit before recognizing Klaus and Mary’s non threatening auras and settling into the box.

“Now, we’re gonna take the top two boxes of each frame. Bottom two are for the babies and where the drones sex up the Queen. Oh-look! Her highness came to say hello!”

A bee the size of Mary’s thumb buzzed up to gently bonk Klaus and Mary’s hats as if to knight them before returning to her chambers.

“Better back off my Klaus,” Mary jokes.

Klaus turned to her. “I understand you’re joking but I want you to know that despite my excitement for the bees, you are equally if not more important to me right now. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They shared a romantic gaze over the soundtrack of Annaka heaving and groaning over the weight of the supers.

“It’s like 30 pounds a super!” Annaka cried.

Klaus hugged Mary. “You are my beautiful wife.”

“Oof! These boys are thicc with honey!”

“And you my beautiful husband,” Mary whispered back.

“Fucking! Sticky and heavy! What a combo!” She heaved, setting the first super in the box.

The shlop sound of the sticky honey hitting the metal wagon was enough to jar them out of their love. Soon the work began, filling the wagon with four dozen 25 pound supers all filled with honey.

“And here’s why I need Klaus. This wagon is now nearly 15 hundred pounds. Can you move it for me?”

Like he was pushing a feather, Klaus began to tug the wagon to the shop.

Mary nearly choked on the smell of the workshop again, all deadly fumes pouring into her nose. Luckily, Annaka quickly dragged the extractor out to them and set up rather quickly, blissfully closing the door to what would knock out a normal person.

“Okay so we put the frames in the extractor like thiiis. Then you close it. And you spin it,” Annaka taught to Klaus.

“Ah, for how long?”

“Eight to ten minutes for each side. So twenty minutes total.”

The couple stood shocked as she continued to spin it. Despite the agonizingly long time they had spinning that thing to look forward to, Annaka was still smiling.

Must be the paint fumes, Mary mused silently.

———

“Another break, Flounder?” Zapp asked, pulling up another arm full of carrots. “Why the fuck are there so many carrots?”

“Lots...of people...who juice,” Zed explained pouring water over his drying skin. “Ahh.”

Zapp stabbed his shovel into the earth, a satisfying thunk mixed with pebbles crushed. His designer jacket wrapped around his waist as he glared at Zed. It was like a cheetah who’s spotted a bird just close enough to take a swipe at.

“We’re not gonna get anything done with you gasping like a fish on land. Did you really make my little sister do this all by herself, blowfish?”

A stabbed remark that hit so close to Zed’s heart, he felt it break.

“I-“

Zapp crosses his arms. “Because if I find out my sister was slaving away in this heat while you played Southern Belle on the porch all day, I’m gonna be seriously pissed.”

“My skin gets dry. I-I over-heat because I don’t sweat. She agrees-“

“So you did huh? You just wanted to mooch of my sister’s hard work?”

Zed’s head sunk. He wished he could drown in the shame but...gills. For the life of him, he could not fight Zapp on this. A difficult silence fell between them.

If only Annaka was here to explain. Or was he relying on her too much? Maybe he was a burden to her. Just a freak show she had to love because she was afraid no one else would love her. Was he taking advantage of her?

He stood up quickly. “I need to go sleep.”

“Sure, sure,” Zapp said flippantly. “Useless crustacean.”

The tank room was a safe place for him. A place he could still be surrounded by his wife but also be alone to think and meditate.

Zapp was good at getting under people’s skin. A talent Annaka shared but tried desperately to keep under control. Two siblings alike in more ways than one, he sighed.

Just as he settled in to sleep, the door opened again, revealing a very sleepy Leo rubbing his eyes. “How long was I out? Is there still coffee?”

“Ah, yes. You can reheat it in the microwave, our stove is rather difficult to use for first timers.”

“Cool.” The door closed halfway before it opened again. “Wait, why are you in here?”

Because Zapp hurt my feelings-

“Just grabbing some air...well water.”

“Okay! I’ll catch you outside!”

“Ah Wait! Leo…” Zapp looked down at the lights on his tank. “Do you think...Annaka...that I’m good enough for her?”

A snort. “Of course, dude. She loves you like...so much. Even when you two were back at the office, she totally loved you. Don’t worry about it.”

“....thank you.”

“Course man.”

———————

Hours later, and I do mean hours, the honey was collected in a couple hundred or so jars. Annaka smiled at Mary, who wanted her arms to fall over, and Klaus, who also wanted his arms to fall off but was more than willing to catch Mary’s arms as well. In a box, she selected a few dozen jars and motioned for them to follow her back up the hill.

“You guys did great for your first time! I won’t make you deal with the beeswax cleaning,” Annaka chirped. “And you’re welcome to take home as many jars as you want!”

Klaus’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Mhm! They make great gifts! I’ll even give you some of the tiny leftover bottles from the wedding!”

“Thank you!”

“Of course! I’m just glad we got all the supers back on! You both looked be-“

“HEY!! WHAT’S THE WIFI PASSWORD!!”

“IT’S ON THE DOOR!!”

“THANKS.”

Annaka turned back with a small sigh. “Anyways! I just wanted-“

“YEAH ANNAKA, LEO’S HUNGRY!”

The was a barely audible, “I didn’t say that!”

“And off we go to make lunch,” she muttered. “Sorry, Klaus will you carry these jars up for me? I’ll run ahead and get dinner started.”

Without waiting to hear his response, she dumped the box full of jars of honey into his weeping arms. It was like she just placed the world in his aching arms and he was barely able to keep from collapsing out of exhaustion. He stared blankly at the hill in front of him as Annaka scrambled up it.

She walked into the kitchen to start the fire and found a Leo already trying to light the cornstalks. “Ahh, thank you, Leo. What would you like for lunch?”

To answer her, his stomach growled like tiger, shaking both of them. Annaka nodded with a soft ‘I see’ and shooed him to wash up as Zapp had undoubtedly thrown mud at him while they pulled up veggies. Suspiciously missing though, was her husband.

Another growl for Leo’s stomach heard across the yard made it clear the matter could wait.

Quickly, she whipped up some simple burgers with a side salad and potatoes wedges and carried them out to the gazebo where her brother sat looking through her vines of flowers and out into the valley.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She asked.

He didn’t turn to look at her. “Yeah…”

“Hey Big Bro?”

“Yeah, Zipp?”

Clicking her tongue at her embarrassing childhood nickname but letting the matter drop, Annaka said, “Thanks for coming. It really means a lot to see you here.”

Leo sat at the table and practically swallowed a burger whole, which somehow did not break the moment. After chugging down the fresh juice Annaka squeezed, he said, “He’s been working hard all month-“

“Can it, pubes,” Zapp snapped, glaring at him.

Leo only smiled back. “What don’t want your sister to find out you trained all those newbies to watch the city just so you could be here? You should have seen him! We hit a new record, only three deaths this month thanks to this gu-“

“I said, can it!” He stuffed a burger into the younger boy’s mouth before slowly making his own burger. Zapp ignored the happy eyes Annaka was giving him in favor of artfully making a mess.

“Zapp…”

“Annaka.” The use of her name brought her to full attention as he began looking out into the valley again. “Are you happy here? The middle of nowhere, hard physical labor, and fish brains? Mom and Dad said they’d be happy to have you back home and Master said he could use an extra hand with the new-“

“I would not trade this for anything,” she whispered. “With all due respect to Master and with a due swear words and insults to mom and dad. I am...so...so happy here.”

“But it’s hard!” Zapp snapped, losing all the teasing that usually kept him distant from others. Slamming his fist on the table, he cried. “It’s hard right?! You work your ass off and what can Zed even do around here? You always work so hard and make me look bad! And you found someone who actually loves you verse-“

He closed his mouth and twenty some odd years of emotional distress poured onto the table like spilled fresh squeezed juice. Jealousy was a rotten thing that spoiled all the fruit and vegetables. It crept into a person and decomposed someone from the inside out.

“Oh!!! Is that Klaus I hear calling me!?” Leo asked as he stuffed burgers into his arms. “Bye!!”

A few moments passed before Annaka spoke, “Remember when we were kids and one of the caster kids tried to bury me alive at some conference. I bled out so much but I couldn’t get the boulders off me. Then, you came and rescued me, took me to the hospital, and then put that kid in the hospital bed next to me?”

“Heh, yeah. Fuck that kid,” Zapp said.

“That night his dad came to visit us in the hospital. He gave me a bunch of flowers then pulled the curtain around that kid. I..” Annaka looked down. “He hurt his son. Broke a bone, I think.”

“Always knew that guy was bad news,” Zapp mused.

She laughed, wine chimes rustled in the breeze, and she said, “That’s when I knew I wanted to help people. I wanted to keep them safe-“

“Yeah, I know. You’re moral and upstanding, I should be more like you-“

“Wait,” she said and the pond stilled at her words. Her brother looked up, all the same mess of white hair and stupid face he’d always had and she smiled at him.

“You help people too, Zapp. We’re alike in more ways than one.”

“No, I don’t...I ruin everything. Ask anyone. You come and you clean up my messes and everyone loves you.”

“That’s because people can’t see past arbitrary values of morality. You sleep around and you drink and you smoke so you must be a bad person. I donate time and money to people so I must be a good person. Neither is true. Those who know you, who really know you, know that you are a kind person at heart. They know you struggle with vulnerability and are willing and able to understand you through your actions.”

She beamed at him. “Everyone loves you, Zapp. And how could they not?”

For the first time in a long time, Zapp felt tears running down his face. Honest tears of relief and of understanding fell from his eyes. His sister crossed the table and hugged him.

“You’re the best big brother anyone could ask for, Zapp.”

And then he wept.

—————

Zed didn’t fall asleep. He floated there for hours, watching the water pump onto the small fountain in his room. Next to it was a small piece of marble he’d been carving to go on top for a while. It was going to Annaka, skirt all flared out and happy as the water shot up around her like the did in the city.

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling again. Maybe a bit of training would help? Just to be angry?

But he hadn’t felt anger at anyone since he moved here. Anger at things sure. Bees that stung me, fruit trees that dropped fruit on his head, and animals he caught eating their plants but not people. Not Annaka.

Not even Zapp.

His door opened to reveal the man in question still smirking like he hadn’t been crying his eyes out. “Hey, sea urchin.”

“Hello, Zapp.”

The other man pulled a chair up to the tank and stared at the painting and poems and drawings of Annaka that covered the walls. Zed’s stomach churned in fear when he was finally looked at but Zapp only sighed.

“It has come to my attention,” he said dramatically. “That I might have been too hard on you.”

“Is that an apology?”

“No, god no, of course not,” Zapp scoffed. “But...looking at all these...uhh...all this Annaka stuff...you still don’t think you’re good enough for her?”

Zed paused before sighing again. “No.”

“Well, man up and start thinking you do. Even if you have to fake it, she choose you and you’re stuck with her now.”

With that, Zapp set the chair back and waved to him over his shoulder.

“...I thought you hated me..”

“Nah...I...you’re good by me.”

“Well you certainly don’t act like it,” Zed pouted.

Zapp laughed and leaned against the door. “So?”

“I would like your approval to be with your sister. You’re Real approval without Annaka holding a gun to your head.”

They both shivered remembering how that day went.

“Look dude, am I the one married to you? Do I suck your dick at night?”

“Vulgar.”

“But if you need my approval to sleep at night,” Zapp sighed, lighting a cigar and taking a long breath. After exhaling, he said, “Yeah you got it.”

They stayed like that for a second, Zed drying himself off and Zapp smoking under the watchful frozen eyes of many Annakas. Together they walked back out into the garden where all their friends laughing and talking with Annaka, surrounded by flowers and good food.

She smiled at them, pushing at each other still, and said, “Hey.”

#lonely hearts #shake your debasement #writings

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