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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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Share a Lair 13 || Share a Birthdate

“What do you even wear to meet somebody’s parents?” Charlotte wondered.

“What did you wear whenever you met Jack’s parents?” Piper asked right back.

“I didn’t even think about it, because I was just his friend from camp whenever we met. By the time we were something else, they had known me for a little while and they loved me. These people don’t know anything about me.”

Jasper chimed in, “No, but Max probably told them all about you, so you likely have a lot to live up to because he TOTALLY overplays your attributes.”

“Excuse me???” Charlotte asked.

“It’s adorable!” Jasper said. “He thinks the world revolves around you. It doesn’t. It revolves around the sun.”

Piper sighed and held a pair of earrings up to Charlotte’s ear, “Is it like a fancy dinner or like a party?”

“It’s like a family party?” Charlotte said. “I guess something like you guys do for Hen’s birthday. I don’t know. I was thinking that I’d dress like we’re going to a dinner date, since I’m meeting his parents, but maybe like a cocktail dress, since it’s his birthday dinner.”

“I can’t believe that you didn’t plan this out before,” Jasper said.

“Do you know how much work I’ve had to do since Henry’s advancement?”

Jasper scoffed, “Do you know how much work I’ve got to do since you and Henry haven’t been in the Man Cave as much?”

Piper said, “All you do is personal assistant stuff for Ray. You did that anyway.”

“Yeah, but it’s MORE now because he’s lowkey depressed!” Jasper said. “So, I have to pick up more snacks, set more spa appointments, force him to take more showers!”

“Who’s protecting Swellview while he hosts his pity parties?” Charlotte asked, concerned.

“Me,” Piper said, as though it was obvious. Jasper just pursed his lips and nodded. Now, Charlotte wanted to go to the Man Cave and make sure everything was functional! But… She just didn’t have the time and she’d have to remember that. She took the earrings from Piper and placed them back in their spot, picked up a different pair and held up to her own ears. “Much better,” Piper said, nodding.

Jasper laid down on Charlotte’s extra bed while she continued arranging her outfit.

Ultimately, she decided on an updo with golden jewels as hair garnish, a long sleeved sleek espresso colored party dress with boots, a belt and a clutch that complimented them well, and a gold jewelry set. If it turned out to be a little more fancy, she had a satin scarf that would instantly upgrade her look.

Max picked her up from her parents’ house, though they were out of town for some of her father’s business. She simply didn’t want to have to drive all the way to the Lair, when Hiddenville was past her in the other direction. Since she was (sort of) on the way, he collected her from there. She was doing some remote Man Cave work while she waited on him on the patio outside and almost didn’t notice him walk up. “Hey!” She said when she did, though. “What’s behind your back?”

“I got you flowers!” He said and pulled out a bouquet of peonies.

Charlotte gasped and smiled brightly. “They’re my favorite! I don’t remember telling you that!” She took them to put them into “the vase.” It was a vase in their house that was only there because Jack used to send her flowers. Mostly, her mom used it now, for nice dinners and stuff. He watched her, a little bit hungrily, but composed.

“You look really amazing,” he said.

She looked at him now - he was the same as always. Dark colors and “not even trying” casual-sexy in a dark purple T-shirt, black jacket, dark jeans and black high top sneakers. “I feel overdressed,” she said, noting his outfit.

“Naw. It’s a special occasion. I think you’re more on the mark than me.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and officially greeted her with a kiss on the nose, which she reflexively pressed herself into a little harder. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. And they were off.

Barb was frantically going about the place, trying to make sure that everything was perfect. They had the twins come over for their birthdays before, but this year would be so different! Max was bringing a woman home!! Yes, Max had dated before and even casually introduced women that he saw to them… but he hadn’t brought one home in a very long time and not on an occasion like his birthday! This one might be the one! To get him settled into a home to escape from at the end of his missions. To give her some beautiful little grandchildren! My grandchildren would be the most adorable kids alive!!!

She had seen photos of Charlotte before. Max was constantly posting them to his social media and she would always leave a comment, “Beautiful! Can’t wait to meet her!!” And he’d love the comment, but never get around to actually making good on her request. But, today, he would. That was exciting.

He’d called her previously and said, “Hey, Mom… Do you think it’d be okay to add an additional spot, for me and Phoebe’s birthday thing? I kind of… want Charlotte to be with me for my birthday…” She could hear the smile in his voice and she could hear something else too. Her little boy was in love. Well, her big boy. Her grown up baby. She had to make sure that everything was perfect and that she made them comfortable. It was hard enough to get Max to stop by when there wasn’t an occasion or an assignment. He went off, falling in love and gallivanting around with his new girlfriend, they might never see him, if she didn’t make a big impact.

“Alert, The twins and friends approaching,” the monitor called. Barb squealed happily and called, “Max and Phoebe are here!”

Of course, Billy was the first one down, Nora and Chloe came from the kitchen and Hank got up from the couch as his wife rushed to the door to open it for her oldest two. “Mom!” The twins cheered as soon as the door opened and they gave her a shared hug. Charlotte had just been introduced to Link when they got out of the cars, and the two of them stood back as the Thunderman hugs went around. She could have sworn that Max had just seen them a week or two ago, but maybe time was not as she remembered it. While they were exchanging their happy greetings, Cherry and Oyster walked up behind Link and Charlotte and she commented, “Well, at least I’m not the only non-family here.”

“Are you kidding? Cherry is as much family as their kids,” Link said.

“Great.” Now, her hands were sweating and of course, that meant it was time to shake The Thundermans’… Thundermanses’? Thunderman’s?…

“Mom, Dad, this is Charlotte, my… Charlotte.” Max said, somewhat awkwardly and blushing as he put his had in the small of her back to move her closer to himself and them. She smoothly wiped her hand on his sleeve and reached out to shake Barb’s hand but when she reached for Hank’s, Max intercepted and said, “He sometimes is way too strong. Shake in spirit.” She smiled and nodded.

“Nice to finally meet you!” Barb cheered. “Hope you like the flowers. Max insisted on incorporating peonies and I’ve never known him to be a flower boy, so I figured it was for you.”

Charlotte squinted, “I have no idea who told him about peonies, but - they are my favorite. He’s so thoughtful.” she smiled at him and he crinkled his nose smiling and gushing.

Nora and Billy came over and almost tackled her with hugs, both talking at the same time (and she realized that she hadn’t seen them since the video game tournament), and tried to hear what both of them were saying. Eventually, they got back on the same page when they said, “And this is our youngest sister, Chloe.”

Charlotte waved at the young teenage girl, “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

“A likely story!” Chloe said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Oh,” Charlotte said and smiled, uncomfortably.

“Chloe! Don’t be mean… at least not to her,” Max said.

Chloe beckoned him with her hand and whenever he got closer, pulled him by the jacket and they vanished. Charlotte gasped. “What just happened?” She wondered.

“That’s her superpower,” Billy said, a little amused by Charlotte’s face.

A moment later, Max and Chloe were back and Chloe reached for Charlotte’s hand to shake it. “Well, despite what Dr. Collosso has told me, I’ve chosen to believe Max that he’s just jealous. So, nice to meet you… You’d better not steal away and-or hurt my brother!” She leaned in and said, “I can make you disappear.”

Charlotte’s eyes went wide and Max broke their bodily contact, taking Charlotte’s hand away from Chloe and into his own. “Chloe!” He wrapped an arm around Charlotte and laughed a little, “She’s going through puberty. Hormones and superpowers, yanno?”

Now, Charlotte was not easily scared, but this girl COULD make her disappear. She’d just shown her so when she and Max went to have their little discussion. Nora and Billy had loved her right away and Phoebe had always been cool. The last thing that she was expecting was for the kid to distrust or dislike her. She was gonna strangle that bunny when she saw him!

Aside from that hiccup, it was great, though.

Barb and Hank tried to take a lot of her time, mostly Barb, and Max kept stealing her back when she seemed overwhelmed. Even when he and Oyster were in the middle of talking animatedly about something. She appreciated that. Cherry played some music to dance to and Oyster almost immediately planted his butt to a seat. Charlotte felt THAT in her spirit and moved to join him, but Max caught her hand and gave her a gentle tug.

“What’s happening? Are you dancing?” She wondered. She hated dancing. She did not want this, at all..

He pressed his face close to hers, moving to the beat of the music, “It’s my birthday. Indulge me?” He poked his lip out in a pout and she couldn’t resist him. Phoebe and Link were dancing next to them. Cherry was dancing by herself, with Oyster seated nearby and watching. The younger Thundermans were dancing in a little circle. Charlotte noticed that Barb had her camera out. No way was she going to be caught looking stupid. She had rhythm, so she just rocked a little bit while Max danced around her. With a little wine, she might feel better, but technically not being old enough, she didn’t want to be seen drinking in front of his parents. They might think ill of her. Her parents allowed her wine, but this family was different from hers and it was really a big deal to her to make a good first impression on them. The way that Max adored them made this important to her.

There was something really special about him. He wasn’t the first guy she cared deeply about and she was pretty sure he probably wouldn’t be the last one. But, he was the only one that she felt like… compromising things for. Yeah, it was cool to be able to have somebody who knew that you didn’t want to dance and left you alone about it, but that little, “Indulge me?” and the tugging of her heart TO indulge? That was an exciting, but manageable new sensation, and she was apprehensive, but felt like even when she would jump in, he’d have her. She wasn’t going to slip up and look stupid. If she did look a little silly, well… He was still gonna look at her exactly the same. After a while, she loosened up and enjoyed her little small dance movements. She definitely enjoyed watching him move around her. That’s not to say that whenever Hank excitedly cheered that it was time for cake (A little TOO excitedly, she thought), that she wasn’t thanking the stars for dancing dismissal.

Max took her hand again - she loved whenever they were together and he kept her close to himself, and it felt even better happening around his family than it did when it was just friends. Barb and Hank started what appeared to be some type of birthday rap and Charlotte prayed silently that her face was not going to insult them. She felt something graze her skin and turned to see that Max had taken one of the nearby peonies from their vase and handed it to her, which distracted her long enough to smile, smell it and admire him. And when the rap ended, Hank was the first to grab a slice of cake that Phoebe cut for him and make his way to the couch with it. The others were getting smaller slices that Barb was placing on plates and Max cut a slice for Charlotte. “Here ya go!” he said.

She looked at the room and wondered, “Aren’t you going to get yours?”

He waved a hand and said, “There will be some left.”

She looked at the cake as Hank ALREADY was coming for seconds and shook her head, “I don’t know. You know this group better than me, but it looks like you’ll miss out, Dude.” She had this mini flashback to one of Hen’s birthdays where he was forced to work and everybody else just moved on and had cake. He’d brought it up after the fact and made her feel pretty guilty about not even thinking twice about leaving him out of his own birthday cake and saying that Jasper was the only one who had his back. That was hurtful to hear, because it was true in that one time, and for whatever reason had carried more weight with Henry than she would have thought. To heck with that, though. She turned turned towards Max and pinched off a piece of her cake. “Open up,” she said, with a smile.

He listened. It wasn’t a struggle or anything. It may have been her slice, but he was gonna take first bite and right from her hands was actually much better than he had ever eaten a piece of cake before in his life. Her brown eyes twinkling up at him, her perfect smile beaming at his sheer satisfaction. Neither of them noticed Barb swatting Hank on the belly to get his attention. He was already looking and simply caught her hand in his free hand (He was holding his cake in the other). Barb whispered in excitement, “She’s it for him, you know that right? Just LOOK at them!”

Hank saw a pretty girl feeding his son cake on his birthday… Which gave him a great idea for a gift Barb could give him on HIS next birthday. Whenever he turned to ask her about it, the woman was to the point of crying. In her mind, she was seeing her little boy, too small to even fit his baggy suit, but getting MARRIED? He was too young! But, if that’s what made him happy… “Barb?” Hank broke into her thoughts. “Why don’t you take a little break. You’ve been working hard all day.”

She nodded, “Yes. Yes, a break.” Max took the plate from Charlotte. If she kept feeding him SHE wasn’t going to get any cake! So, at least she was gonna have that last bite of this slice. When he held the fork out to her and she took it into her mouth, Barb just wiped her eyes and smiled softly. Max kissed Charlotte on the forehead and asked her if SHE wanted an actual slice. She did.

Barb was heading to a chair whenever Link had an announcement to make. One that he wanted everyone’s attention for. Max was getting more cake, but everyone else was paying attention, so that was enough for Link.

Charlotte gave Barb a cordial smile as the woman came and stood right next to her and Link went on this tangent about how from the first time he met Phoebe, he knew she was special, “Literally! She used her superpowers right in front of me!” They laughed. He went on and talked about how they had to go their separate ways, but always made time for each other and reconnected a short while ago, etc. Max was back with cake, so Charlotte accepted the plate, ready to devour it, but Max was getting his phone out and started recording Link… which she thought was kinda weird until Link got down on one knee in front of Phoebe and Barb gasped loudly. “Phoebe Thunderman, will you marry me?” Cherry did a spit take with her punch. Charlotte didn’t really know Link, but she hadn’t been expecting that at this birthday party, either. It was kind of sweet and kind of exciting. She ate cake and watched Phoebe try to collect her feelings. Just like that, Barb’s attention was directed towards Phoebe and Link, now.

Max asked Cherry, “Why did you spit out your punch? Link told us that he was going to do this.” Cherry looked extremely shocked to hear this news.

Oyster commented, “He had to swipe the memory, because she kept about to accidentally tell Phoebe.”

Ignoring their ditzy couple friends, Max cheered, “Woooooo!!! Congrats, Pheebs!!” As Phoebe accepted her man and her ring.

Phoebe commented, “You’ll be next, Loverboy!” Charlotte nearly choked on her cake.

He laughed and said, “She’s just teasing, Char.” They stared at each other for a moment, then he took her empty plate, “Punch?”

“Yeah,” she said. He went to hug Phoebe, pat Link on the back, squeeze Barb’s shoulders… a lot of stuff before he actually made it to the punch.

In that time, Hank wound up back by her, “You work for Captain Man, right?”

She made a high pitched ‘Well’ sound and confirmed, “I mostly work for Kid Danger… Well… He’s actually going to change names, but, I definitely did work for Captain Man.”

“And did YOU want to punch him in the face, too?” He asked. She laughed out loud. He nodded, “He’s one of the most arrogant heroes that I’ve ever met, and it’s only on his superpower, because his record isn’t even a Hero League low class. He only qualifies because of his power and occupation. Basically skates on indestructible.”

“I can believe it,” she said.

“You know, I have punched him in the face before. Once upon a time he said something to my wife that I didn’t appreciate. My fists did the talking. Punched him right through an ambulance. He came out on the other side and said, “I’m Okay!” He was, but I had to pay to replace the damn ambulance.” Hank shook his head. “And I hurt my thumb punching his stupid indestructible jaw.”

“He… has never mentioned that there was bad blood between you two!” Charlotte said.

“Oh, there wasn’t, really. The guy forgets everything that happens the moment he sees his reflection, so honestly, it was just me mad for awhile and I moved on. Haven’t really seen or spoken to him, so I was curious to know if he was still…”

“A prick. Yes. He is.” She covered her mouth. You can’t say “prick” to your boyfriend’s dad!

But, Hank laughed heartily and wiggled his finger at her, “I like you. You’re a feisty kid.”

Max glanced over when he heard Hank laugh. He was glad to see her getting on with his dad. Meanwhile, he and Phoebe talked. “It took Link and I TEN YEARS to get to this point. You don’t have as much time to reel her in,” Phoebe said.

“Chill! We’ve barely been together for a month.”

“Well, I mean, not on paper, but come on, dude. How long were the two of you… consorting before then?” She smiled and he blushed and looked away. “Listen, I’m just saying - she’s a HELL of a catch. She’s all the stuff that you want and need without some of the stuff that might run her off. If it’s gonna be a nonsupe, should be one that gets the lifestyle and stuff.”

“I’m not rushing anything,” Max said. “I’d scare her off before I have the chance to let her down, like the universe intended.”

“Let her down?” Phoebe repeated, concerned.

“My training term will be up in a few months. Henry is excelling in it. When he moves on, I will too. They’re leaning towards Russia.”

Phoebe looked sad for him, “And she doesn’t like Russia?”

He scoffed, “I haven’t told her this! How would I even do it? Hey - you know how I spent months pining over you right in your face and you finally gave me a chance and we’ve been connecting and falling in love for the past month or so? Long story short, in a few months, I’m probably going to be sent to Russia, and be stationed there for a few years! Wanna commit to coming with me, this soon into our relationship?”

“Not those exact words, but I have to ask you… How do you think it would play out if you waited until this summer? By that time, she’s several months in and probably all the way in love and let’s be honest, be losing you and her best friend at the same time… Is he coming to Russia with you?”

“Haven’t decided whether I want that or not. He’s capable, but… she’s gonna be mad enough at me without me taking him away.”

“Maybe with him, she’ll come along. All I know is you have to share this with her. She deserves to know.”

“I’m…” He shrugged his shoulders. Scared. She knew that he was, but she also knew that he was brave.

“Brave,” she finished the statement. “And honest. Do the right thing now, and maybe even if it takes ten years, the honesty and respect will always matter and bring you two back together. And to clarify… we don’t even know that she’ll break up with you. She’s had long distance relationships before, and so have you, albeit briefly. When you love someone, and you’re both willing to work, and both smart… you can figure it out! I don’t want to see you miss out on good things because you’re scared.”

“I never said I was scared.”

“We shared a womb. You don’t HAVE to say it!”

“Ugh. Happy 25th, Boogerhead.”

“You too, Loserface.” He pulled her in and gave her a kiss on the hair, then reminded himself that he owed Charlotte punch. They were going to be heading back home in a short while, and he planned on taking Phoebe’s advice. Just the thought of having to have that talk was terrifying, but Phoebe was right. He was brave and honest, and Charlotte deserved to know the truth.

#Share a Lair #Henry Danger #The Thundermans #crossover #crossover fanfic #Nesha Crossover #Thundanger #Thunderbolt #Share a Lair Repost #Nesha HD Fanfic #fanfiction #Share a Lair 13

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sabine-leo · 5 years ago

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Dreadful Silence - Part 16

Author: @sabine-leo

Rated: M

Genre: Angst, Insecurity, Hurt / Comfort, Humor and Fluff / SMUT

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston / You (female reader)

Part: 16/16

Note: And thats a wrap... This will be the last chapter of Dreadful Silence. I could do an Epilogue if wanted but that would be it :) This idea had been in my head for a while and I am happy that I could get it out into the open.

I am SO very thankful to all of you who have liked, rebloged and commented this story! I love you to bits!!! Please let me know if you liked the last chapter!

THANK YOU FOR CLIMBING THIS MOUNTAIN WITH ME!!!

After the party Tom and you had fallen into bed happy but exhausted. There was no doubt about the next weeks becoming straining and intense but you loved the rush after every performance.

3 Weeks in and it had not changed a bit. The complete Cast lay yet another time on the floor of the stage together as Tom turned his head. He smiled a beaming smile but his eyes held a seriousness that kept you from asking why he looked the way he looked. Knowing him you knew he was about to talk soon anyway.

“I was wondering…” He started and the beaming smile became a little grin.

“…since we practically live together for a while now anyway…why not make it permanent?!”

Tom kissed your entwined hands and added. “No need to pay double for rent if we only use one flat anyway…” You started to grin yourself.

“That is very reasonable, you do make a good argument Thomas.”

Tom laughed softly and nodded. “I do, don´t I?!”

Slowly you sat up and turned your head to still be able to look at him. “I mean, why say things like I love you, I want to be with you all the time. Let´s share a life…When you can also reason with rent prices…” Tom suppressed a snort and hefted himself up to stand.

“I am glad we are on the same page, darling!” Then he started walking to get off stage and shower. Shortly before he was out of sight he stopped and threw you a wicked look.

“Ahh.. by the way. I LOVE YOU and I already terminated my rent contract. So, you are basically stuck with me! Please…let´s share a life together!” He winked at you and blew you a kiss before he left the stage. You sat there flabbergasted and started to laugh.

“TROUBLE TOM!” You yelled and went after him to not only start sharing a life but also THE DAMN SHOWER together.

In the next week you found out that Tom had planned the move and already corrupted your friends into helping. They had been on the inside of Toms plans all along and gladly kept their mouths shut to see your stunned face when they let the bomb drop while clearing out Toms flat. With your combined strength, good planning and also with a lot of fun you made the move in a day and had dinner together afterwards. Sam had managed to get a pizza delivery from your favourite restaurant which all of you were now demolishing in your livingroom. Julia collapsed on the floor next to you and asked. “When will be your last performance on stage? I absolutely wanna be there for it.”

You were ready to give an answer but Tom was quicker. “I already have the tickets for all of you. My treat for all your help!” He grinned as Julia kissed his cheek with a laugh and said. “Oh, I need a new dress for that occasion. (Y/N) you, Christine and myself will go shopping!” Well, you could not say no to that as you too needed a dress for the party afterwards. Tom grinned and Sam winked as he, Paul, Jack and Tom shared a quick glance.

That night, Tom and you lay in bed together after a hot shower. Your head rested comfortably in the crock of his shoulder and he slowly stroked your back with his fingertips. “Feel any different, now that we live together?” You asked him with a smile and lifted your head. Tom chuckled and shook his head. “No, my flat did not feel like my home anymore after we spend the first weekend together at yours. I knew that THIS was where I wanted to be. That you are my home…”

“Charmer!” You said with a smile but the kiss you gave him told him how much his words meant to you. “Although I could have done without all your secret plans and wicked games!” You added after the kiss. “Tom laughed out loud this time and grinned. “See, I told you in the beginning that I would gladly listen to your exasperated TOM when I did something stupid!”

“Oh, this was not stupid just mischievous, and I haven´t said an exasperated TOM for now. But I am certain it will come one day!” Tom tumbled you over and hovered above you. “I can not wait!”

His lips crashed onto yours and he kissed you with a sense of longing and rightness inside his chest that made his heart soar in contentment.

When you went out shopping with the girls the next free day after another 2 weeks of performances Tom promised you a quiet night with a dinner would be waiting for you on your return. The day out was fun although you were tired. Julia, Christine and yourself managed to find some extraordinary dresses that looked classy and stylish but sexy as well. They occupied you for the whole afternoon and only dropped you of at home after you threatened to fall asleep on the spot if they´d drag you into yet another store for matching shoes. Keying open your door and a exquisite aroma engulfing your sense of smell made you smile. You dropped your bags and got rid of your shoes before walking into the kitchen. Tom stood before the oven, low sitting jeans, barefoot and... bare-chested. Your breath actually hitched a little and you grinned as you said. “You know that you are deadly to womenkind like that ?!” Tom turned, stunned. He hadn´t heard you coming in. He started to chuckle and joked. “Should I wear an apron?” Slowly walking over to you his eyes got hooded.

“Oh please, god, no! That would be even deadlier!”

Tom chuckled low and grabbed your waist in a soft tug. “Hi!” he rasped and started to kiss you eagerly. “Hi yourself. Trouble Tom!” you answered as he let you take in a breath.

Tom chuckled and kissed your neck with little wet kisses while your hands stroked down his naked back into the low sitting jeans and over his firm behind. Tom purred against your skin and walked you against the kitchen table. He lifted you up with his strong arms and pushed the skirt up with a low laugh. “I like that…you wearing skirts…” His mouth found yours in a deep and intoxicating kiss while he opened up his jeans and pushed down his boxers. Your little pantie was gone the next second and Tom urged you to the edge of the table while stepping between your parted legs.

“A little something to whet one´s appetite…” His voice was a deep rumble and his words made you ready for his possession almost as much as his kisses had done. One of his hands held you steady as his hips undulated…slowly taking tenure of your hot core.

What a way to get your appetite up and running…

The last week of performance in the Theatre came faster than you thought and you tried to enjoy each and every performance even more than you had done already. Walking onto stage for the last time that evening was thrilling but also sad. You saw your friends sitting in the first row. Dressed up to the nines and smiling your way. Trying to take all in and store it safely into your heart to take it home as a fond memory you looked into the audience. This was your climbed mountain and that was you on top of it enjoying the view!

When Tom delivered the last lines before the lights would go out, he saw you smiling at him with tears in your eyes. “Strike up Pipers!” Came out a bit hoarse as he grabbed your face in his hands and instead of starting to dance with you as he had done numerous times before he just kissed you deeply. The audience erupted into applause and your friends stood there clapping and hooting loudly. Tom just held you tight after the kiss and when all got dark around the both of you. He did not let go. Even when the lights lit up again and you all had to take the final curtain call, he just held you in his arms and looked into your eyes for a moment. There was something in his gaze that you could not quite place but there was no time to take another look because Andrea and her husband laughingly pried the both of you off of each other and made you bow with them.

Afterwards you all looked at each other and there was no dry eye left on stage as you got down on the floor for one last time. Tom hugging you very close and gulping to clear his throat before yelling like after the first performance. “WE DID IT!” The mixture of adrenalin rush, pure joy, sadness that it was over, exhaustion and relief that you had made it till the end was almost too much to handle.

Backstage you were joined by your friends and after Andrea left the shower you jumped under the hot water while Julia and Christine chatted with her. They helped you get ready and into the dress you had bought, it felt so good to laugh and joke with them after the emotional rollercoaster on stage earlier. Standing in the dressing room and looking at each other after you were ready the grins got bigger and bigger. “The Party awaits Ladies!” Andrea hooted and opened the door for you. You stepped out and looked down the corridor. The dressing room of the lads was already dark and empty. They probably were waiting for you outside to get into the cars that would drive you to the party venue. Closing the door behind her Julia cleared her throat as you started walking to the exit. “Wrong way (Y/N)” she said with a smile. You turned and looked confused. Julia rolled her eyes and tilted her head. “Jesus, you really did forget what you promised me?” It took you a second but then it dawned on you. “OH! SORRY! Of course. Follow me!” You started walking back to the stage entrance to fulfil your promise to show Julia the stage and let her take a look facing the view you had had the last months. Opening the door to the pitch-black stage you heard Andrea say.

“I´ll get the lights for you!”

“God its dark, you go first! I have no clue where the stage ends!”

Chuckling at Julia’s words you stepped onto the stage and said “There are a few meters before you´d fall down, don´t be such a scaredy-cat!” Hearing the door fall close you felt around for Julia’s hand, only to come up empty. “Andrea? The lights?” You said loud enough for her to hear.

A single spotlight lit up and you blinked for a second before pinning your gaze on a beautiful flower arrangement. Much the same to the one Tom bought the first time you met him. Another light came up and the vision before you hit you like a freight train. You gulped and a nervous laugh escaped you. Some meters away, next to the flowers stood Tom in a well-cut black tuxedo. A smile on his face and his hands behind his back. “Hello Darling!” He said and wet his lips before holding out one hand for you. “Please, join me?!” Your heart hammered inside your chest, ready to jump out any second as you took the few steps that separated you from this divine looking human being. You took his hand and Tom squeezed slightly. “You do look heavenly stunning…” he said and kissed your hand.

Tom took a deep breath and prepared himself to give probably the most important monologue in his life. “When we met, I knew I had found a spirit that one could only ever find once in a lifetime. Being with you the first weeks, getting to know you, was like exploring a beautifully written book. I had to read between the lines to fully understand the beauty of your mind and soul but every new line I revealed drew me deeper and deeper… without me ever wanting to get out again. I understood your silence as much as I understood your words and I promised myself to never let you get away again. I climbed a mountain to reach you…” You closed your eyes as he referred to the time were he had run up Primrose Hill after searching you for hours. “…and now we have climbed a mountain together. THIS stage will always resemble our strength, our love, our passion, our will to fight for each other to me.” Tom took a deep breath and smiled. “I LOVE you! With all my heart with all I was, am and will be…” He went down on one knee and held out a little black box which he opened up with trembling hands. “Would you do me the honour and marry me (Y/N) ?” The look he bestowed on you from down there was pure hope, pure love and such a sight to behold that this image would be branded into your mind forever.

You did not know if your voice would betray you because your eyes filled with tears and your heart beat as fast like a Colibri’s wings. “Yes!” You got out before a tear fell out and Tom started to smile so bright that it would be enough to lit up the whole Theatre. He stood and grabbed you. The kiss he planted on you was wet and hard and sweet and loving altogether. With trembling hands, he got the ring out of the box and slid it onto your finger before enclosing you in a hug that melted the both of you together. “SHE SAID YES!” He yelled and the lights in the Theatre came to live, illuminating your friends and the whole crew in the seats. Or better ON the seats as they clapped and yelled well wishes from down below.

Tom took your face in his hands and looked into your eyes. “Was that worth an exasperated Tom?” You laughed but shook your head. “That was worth an: I LOVE YOU MY TROUBLE TOM!”

Tom grinned and kissed you silly before your friends took up the stage and engulfed you in a hug that felt like a thousand unsaid words of love and friendship.

Tags: @archy3001 @itscalledfandomsweetielookitup @faeriedelalune-blog @amazinggraces-world @tanishahka @coniumalces @emomemelordess @drakesfiance @confessionsofastrugglingteen @inlovewithfreyamikaelson @heart-shaped-hell @theoneanna @marikochi @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @awkwardfangirl2014 @rainbowsinthestorm @witchbitch-stuff @kthemarsian @mylovelycrazyworld? @adefectivedetective @mylovelycrazyworld @shegatsby @anchored-in-high-tide @yokaimoon

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parabellum-rpg-archive · 5 years ago

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Congratulations, Joss! You’ve been accepted to play Jackson Sinclair. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin Note: Your writing was so fun to read, but when I got to the part about Jack and his nieces/nephews I WAS READY TO SOB. (ALSO HIS CATS, IM GOING TO LITERALLY DIE) Thank you for applying and we very much look forward to writing with you! -Admin J

CHARACTER DESIRED

Jackson Sinclair

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS

Jackson is a good guy, which is odd, considering his line of business. His moral compass is perhaps slightly skewed, but he definitely has a code. Don’t hurt women or children, don’t enjoy violence, stay away from drugs, humiliation and cruelty aren’t good motivators, peace is better than war. He might have lived a totally normal life and just been that nice guy on your block who’d fix your car for free if you watched his kids once in a while if he’d been dealt different cards. As it is, he’s a large man with a lot of tattoos, an intimidating presence, and a scary voice, and that means most of the time, he doesn’t have to do anything to maintain the peace. And that’s really how he views his job. Sure, he’s the guy you go to when violence must occur, but perhaps because of his reticence, he’s managed to develop a good reputation. He’ll talk shit out first, and if he decides bad things have to happen, well, you must have done something really wrong. If Jack really doesn’t like you, you might as well just leave, because everyone else will assume you must be pretty fucked up. He’ll still fix your car for free, though the return favour might be something a lot more illegal than babysitting. Of course, given the Sinclair family, it could just be babysitting one of his nieces, aka making sure Paityn doesn’t die and Paisley doesn’t lose her shit on someone. He loves his nieces and nephews, they’re the closest thing he has to kids himself, and his home is always available for anyone who needs to crash there, no questions asked. Despite having a fairly safe and law-abiding youth, he’s surprisingly non-judgmental about what they get up to, as long as they’re not hurting anyone. Paityn is his baby and he frets about her constantly, Priya is the only niece he trusts with anything really important, Paisley reminds him of Piper and thus he’s easily won over by her, Sebastian reminds him of himself and he’s quietly encouraging and supportive, and Shiloh is … well, Shiloh, but Jack will follow that boy to Hell just to drag him out if necessary. The subject of Piper Moreau is forever closed as far as he’s concerned. If Morgan brings it up, he’ll pretend he’s over it, but anyone else better shut the fuck up or they’ll find out what the little-seen but much-feared Jackson Sinclair temper looks like.

WRITING SAMPLE

The day was muggy and overcast, which suited Jack’s mood. He needed to take a jog or something, but getting out of bed felt like too much work. The other side of the bed (he still couldn’t sleep in the middle even now) was empty, but he reached over to it anyway. There was no warm spot left, because no one was there, or had been there for quite some time, but he liked to pretend when it was still too early for him to register the ugly truth. Fuck, he was a drama queen. Never could get over the women who left him. His therapist would probably chalk it up to the abandonment of his mother, but Jack distrusted anything that blamed her when she’d only been doing her best. He still went to every session, and tried to talk things out, because walking around with unresolved shit was just a way to take it out on the wrong person, but part of him balked at the whole process. Irish macho bullshit, of course, but hey, hard to shake your roots, right? At least he wasn’t a drunk, or worse, though he never looked down on anyone who was. Well, guys who ditched their families to fuck around and bitch about their problems, yes (thinking of Kieran O'Connell, he made a mental note to have a word with him), but otherwise, he had a lot of sympathy. Life was hard, and not everyone got to grow up loved and cared for like he had. If you didn’t learn coping mechanisms, you just took the first thing that made life easier, and then that became your coping mechanism. Christ, if anyone heard his thoughts, they’d call him a pussy. It was hard being self-aware surrounded by the Irish. Even Freud said they were immune to therapy.

Dragging himself out of bed, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and lit it by habit, not even fully conscious, or maybe still in that state between being awake and asleep when your mind is awake but your body isn’t. Or vice versa, who the fuck knew anyway. He should ask someone smarter than him about that. Those thoughts immediately led to Piper, but he shoved them extremely deep down, where they couldn’t touch him except in his dreams. The fucked up shit was even in his dreams, she treated him like shit, and he still didn’t want to wake up. More things to talk about with Dr. Brown. Cigarette clenched between his teeth, Jack padded around the apartment, noting idly that Paityn was sleeping on his couch again. He kept telling her to just use the guest room, but he supposed she liked it better in here. Stroking her hair gently, he tucked her in better and carefully adjusted her pillows so her neck wouldn’t hurt. In being so careful, he almost missed Shiloh on the floor, curled around a series of pillows, which made him grin and go looking for another blanket. The Sinclair siblings were a close-knit crew, often travelling in pairs or packs when danger lurked. Even if the only danger came from inside the mind of the baby of the family. Looked like he was skipping his jog and making waffles instead. Oh well. He was past forty, jogging was hardly gonna change that he wasn’t 25 anymore.

The kitchen was pristine, though that was more thanks to his cleaning lady than Jack himself. Still, he moved around in it with more confidence than any of the guys he was in charge of, who all seemed to live off of take out and food that only required a microwave. They hadn’t had Evelyn for a mother, or his grandparents, who’d all taught him that kitchens were fun, and food tasted better when you cooked it yourself and it had real ingredients in it. He tiptoed around the place, starting coffee and getting the ingredients for the waffles together without making anything more than a whisper of sound. He looked like the kind of man who stomped everywhere, but Jack had never cared for loud men. He found being silent had as much of an effect, and he didn’t like to startle people. Well, unless he had to, but that was work. In life, he preferred to walk softly and leave the big stick at home. There was a chorus of mews, and he looked down at Bedknob and Broomstick, the two alley cats that considered his apartment at least one of their bases of operations. He dragged them to the vet and bought them soft cat beds and even braved washing them when they got into something foul, but they were almost contrarily wild, in spite of all his efforts. He adored them anyway, and poured out the fanciest cat food they were willing to eat into two dishes while assuring them quietly that they were both garbage monsters. His fondness for stray animals was one of those things that Morgan was allowed to joke about, because he was Morgan and they were brothers before anything else, and no one else was allowed to mention. One of his guys had taken a pot shot at a stray dog once. Everyone still talked about that day, though not in Jack’s hearing.

The waffles were sizzling in the iron and the coffee was percolating in the elegant machine that Penny had bought him for his last birthday when he heard stirring from the other room. Paityn hovered in the doorway, always unsure in any space regardless of how many times Jack made her welcome. Scooping up Bedknob, the more cuddly of the two, Jack came over and kissed the top of her head, handing off the cat and nudging her back towards the couch. “Breakfast’ll be up in a bit, Scout. Go'n wake up that degenerate brother of yours. Tell'em he ain’t a dog, he can sleep on the furniture if he wants to.” He’d introduced his nieces, and Shiloh, to Sailor Moon, and had willingly watched the seemingly endless episodes with them when they were children, and they’d been the Sailor Scouts to him ever since, though Paityn was the only one who still allowed the nickname. He’d been the one to take them to their first R movie, and taken them all out for rides on his motorcycle, their little arms clutching his sides so tight it hurt, though he’d have rather eaten his tongue than told them to stop. He’d been the one they called or texted when they were too shitfaced to remember how to get home, or were at a party that had gotten a little too weird, or had made the kind of youthful mistakes that seemed world-ending and could never be confessed to their parents. Grabbing up a plate of waffles, he headed into the living room, telling Shiloh to get his ass off the floor, was he raised in a barn, all while handing the boy a mug of coffee just the way his nephew took it. From the outside, his life might appear lonely, but Jack had family, and that was all that mattered. And who knew, maybe he’d finally talk Shiloh into coming for a jog with him. Stranger things had happened.

#accepted

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piper-aileen-lenox · 6 years ago

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Long live our idiot children <3

piper-aileen-lenox

My hand slipped.

#{ no one’s arms felt more like home than yours | JACK && PIPER }

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pikapeppa · 6 years ago

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Piper Lavellan: Luck of the Law

@schoute and I have been obsessed with our modern bartender AU for WEEKS, and I now have the pleasure of introducing the first chapter of a Piper Lavellan/Cullen fic set in the same world!

`This little prologue is the tale of how Piper came to be in Kirkwall. Art is by @schoute. Read here on AO3.

For @dadrunkwriting Friday.

Piper stared blearily at the swirling blood in the sink.

Another drop of blood joined the sanguine vortex as it spiralled down the drain. Piper pressed the damp paper towel to the bloody mess of her eyebrow and lifted her gaze to the mirror.

Fucking perfect, she thought. The gash that bisected her left eyebrow was a nice counterpoint to the cut that split the right side of her lip. And then there was the bloody nose, which was nicely complemented by the dark circles under her eyes.

She heaved a sigh and leaned heavily against the sink. How could she have been so naive? She stared intently at her reflection until she’d memorized every bloody bruise.

Well, I won’t be making this fucking mistake again, she thought bitterly. Her now-marred face would be a good reminder of this.

*******************

The problem was that it had all started so well. Piper had met Maara, Duncan, and Peronn a few months ago at an underground show in Ansburg that she’d heard about in her travels, and they’d immediately hit it off. Making friends at shows was always easy, music being the great unifier, but there had been something especially inviting about these three.

Especially about Peronn. He was the definition of charm from the moment they bumped into each other at the bar.

He leaned in close and pressed his arm against hers. “What’s a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?” he yelled over the music.

She smirked at him. “Did you seriously just quote Deadpool at me?”

He raised his eyebrows appreciatively and leaned his elbow on the bar. “A girl who knows Deadpool well enough to recognize quotes. I knew I liked you.”

A warm feeling bloomed in her belly, and Piper laughed and dropped her eyes. This guy was handsome, and it had been a while since her last one-night stand.

She coyly lifted her gaze back to his face. “So. What other lines have you got for me?” she asked.

He gave her a roguish half-smile. “Lines? Me? I would never. But you’ve got some nice lines.” He reached out and ran his thumb along her tattooed cheekbone. “I like your vallaslin,” he shouted.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Are you Dalish?” she asked. She’d assumed he wasn’t, since his elven face was bare.

Sure enough, he shook his head. “Nah. City-bred and born. But my gran was Dalish. Is Dalish, I guess. But you wear your blood writing better than her.”

Piper wrinkled her nose. “Did you just compliment me and insult your gran in the same breath?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “All right, you’ve got me. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.”

Piper giggled, then pushed back the mass of her silvery hair. “All right. I never say no to a drink.”

And she didn’t, not for the rest of the night. Peronn eventually led her back to the table he was sharing with Maara and her boyfriend Duncan, and he kept the drinks flowing all night, gallantly ignoring Piper’s pleading attempts to pay him back.

At some point during the night, Piper became relaxed enough to give up the attempts. “Ahh, I should just thank you and shut the fuck up,” she yelled to Peronn as she leaned into his shoulder. “I’m trying to save up for a bike. Haven’t really got the money to spare for drinks anyway.”

“A bike?” Maara asked. “Like… a bicycle-bike? Because those are super easy to jack, you know.”

Duncan tsked and pinched her arm, and Piper snorted with laughter. “No no, a motorcycle. A Kawasaki ZX-10R, to be exact.” She sighed dreamily as Peronn slid his arm around her waist. “I’ve almost got enough money for it. I just need a couple thousand more. I’d rather have a bike than a place to live, you know? Rent is the worst. It’s like throwing your money in the garbage. Give me a bike and I’ll make my home anywhere.”

“Wait,” Peronn yelled. “You don’t have a place to stay?”

Piper shook her head. “I’m a nomad,” she yelled back. “I float along on the wind. I’m like a dandelion seed.” She sipped her whiskey. In truth, the couchsurfing lifestyle was starting to wear on her. She’d loved it at first, when she’d first left her clan after her father had died. Back when she’d wanted nothing more than to be alone and away from the whole Dalish respect-the-gods bullshit. But… well, being alone all the time and spending every night in a different place was maybe a little bit more overrated than Piper was letting on.

“Stay with us!” Maara said.

Piper looked up from her drink. “What?”

Maara’s pretty face was open and friendly. “You can stay with us,” she repeated. “We’ve got a really comfortable couch.”

“Or a really comfortable futon, if you don’t mind… sharing,” Peronn added.

Piper looked at him. His smile was broad and his baby-blue eyes were warm, and a little leap of anticipation hopped in her belly.

She looked at Maara again. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t even know me…” Her gaze flicked over to Duncan. He was frowning slightly, and the last thing Piper wanted was to be an imposition.

“We’re sure,” Maara said. She looked up at Duncan. “Right, D?”

Duncan shrugged. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.” He glanced at Peronn.

Peronn ran his hand along Piper’s back. “Good,” he said. Then he leaned in close to her ear. “Want another drink? Or would you rather go home?”

She shivered happily at the brush of his lips, and at the word home. It had been so long since she felt like she’d had one. Not that she was assuming Peronn’s apartment would become her home or anything. “Whatever you want,” she shouted.

Peronn smiled, and Piper felt it against her skin. Then he straightened and held out his hand. “Come on, Pip,” he yelled. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

As it turned out, the grand tour started and ended with Peronn’s futon - not that Piper was at all upset about this. The surprising part was that the whole arrangement ended up lasting longer than the one night. To Piper’s intense gratitude, Peronn and the others insisted she stay with them rent-free for as long as she wanted to, and Piper didn’t have enough pride to say no. After all, who was she to turn down a place to stay, and friends who were so kind as to invite her to stay indefinitely?

After over a year of making her own solitary way across the continent, Piper was enjoying the novelty of settling into a steady routine. What had started as a casual crash with friends had become a real home - the first she’d had since leaving her clan. And what had started as a casual hook-up had turned into a real relationship: the first she’d ever really had.

The living arrangements weren’t perfect; Maara and Duncan and Peronn had few belongings beyond their laptops and their basic furniture, so it wasn’t the coziest of apartments. Furthermore, Peronn’s futon was hilariously lumpy, and it took Piper threatening to buy him a bed before he finally stepped up and bought one for himself - a second-hand one, to be sure, but a bed was a bed, and they made very good use of it.

The constant trickle of visitors that Peronn and Maara and Duncan got was strange as well. All kinds of people traipsed in and out at all hours of the day and night. They never seemed to stay for more than a drink or a chat, and though they were mostly friendly, even Piper - with her chatty nature - wasn’t able to learn much more about them than their names or how her roommates knew them: a friend from the gym, a girl Duncan met at the library, a friend’s cousin who was new in town.

But Piper didn’t mind. The rotating parade of company was interesting, and her friends were a lot of fun. And importantly, with a stable place to stay, she was making decent money. She’d quickly found a job working as a courier for a local restaurant, and within a couple months she’d gotten a raise. She was only a few paychecks away from getting that dreamy Kawasaki that she’d been eyeing for years - a dream that finally seemed attainable. Sure, it would clear out all of her savings, but it would be paid in full and it would be hers.

I make my own luck, Piper always liked to say. And finally, after a solid year of meandering around Thedas and scraping together cash by skipping meals and crashing on couches, it looked like Piper’s luck was finally turning around.

***********************

Piper drummed her fingers impatiently on the bank counter. The teller had stepped into the back to get more envelopes, and she knew she shouldn’t be acting so antsy; the teller was being more than helpful, and Piper had already waited for more than two weeks for her banking forms to get processed so she could take out the thirty grand she needed. But now that she was here, and her Kawasaki was so close she could almost taste it, she could barely contain her rapidly fraying patience.

Peronn gave her arm a squeeze. “Easy there, Pip. The bike will still be there tomorrow.”

Piper wrinkled her nose and nudged him with her elbow. “I know, I know. But can you blame a girl for being excited? Besides,” she said, “I already have to wait a whole night before I can go and get my bike. A whole night! I’m already raring to go, it’s not fair…” She stomped her leather-booted feet on the floor and pouted at Peronn.

He chuckled and slung his arm around her neck. “Ah, don’t worry. We’ll get you good and drunk at Chora’s Den, and the night’ll fly by, and next thing you know, you’ll be picking up your bike. You’ll probably be too hungover to ride it home, though.” He snickered.

Piper punched him playfully in the belly. “Real helpful, Per. Thanks.”

At long last, the bank teller came out from the back, and Piper watched in high anticipation as she carefully packed her money into an envelope. At long last, the teller slid the envelope across the counter.

“All right, love, there you are,” the teller said. She gave Piper a stern and motherly look. “Be careful, now. It’s a dangerous road out there, you hear?”

Peronn snorted softly; Piper hadn’t been able to resist blurting her motorcycle aspirations to the teller when they’d arrived.

Piper ignored him and nodded eagerly. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry,” she chirped. With slightly trembling hands, she took the precious packet from the smiling teller.

She and Peronn left the bank, and Peronn gave her a noisy kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations, Pip,” he announced. “You’re more than halfway there.”

She grinned and happily wrapped her arm around his waist. He was right. Collecting this much cash had been the hardest part. In less than twelve hours, she’d have the one thing she’d most wanted ever since her father had died: a way to fly across the world like the curious adventurer her father had always encouraged her to be.

At that moment, her phone chirped in her pocket, and she pulled it out to find a text from Maara.

7:21pm - where tf r u guys??? 7:21pm - hurry up and get here im so excited for u!! 7:21pm - SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS ERYBODY

Piper snorted with laughter. With a surge of excited happiness, she darted around behind Peronn and jumped onto his back.

He laughed as he hooked his arms around her legs, and Piper wrapped her arms around her neck. “Come on,” she said cheerfully. “You’ll have to be my ride until I get my bike! Let’s go!”

Peronn snickered dirtily. “You can ride me anytime, Pip. Now let’s get you fucked up.”

********************

Duncan raised his shot glass. “Cheers to Piper, who is finally upgrading to a real vehicle like an adult and can shove that bike bell right up her-” “Hey, don’t be a dickhead!” Maara gave Duncan’s arm a slap, and the rest of their table burst into raucous laughter.

Piper raised her glass as well. “Cheers to good friends and shitty well whiskey!” she said cheerfully, then elbowed Maara. “You guys couldn’t even spring top shelf for me?”

Maara laughed, then leaned in close to Piper’s pointed ear. “You’re the one with all the cash, big spender,” she purred, then gave Piper a playful jab.

Piper chuckled and downed the shot, then hissed a breath through her teeth as Duncan waved to the waitress for another round. “Tastes fucking terrible, you assholes.”

Another eruption of laughter rose from their table, and Piper grinned as she basked in the perfection of the moment. As was always the case with their little foursome, one drink turned into three, and three swiftly multiplied into many more. It wasn’t long before Piper was properly sauced. Maara had insisted that this was by design, as this would be Piper’s last chance to get irresponsibly smashed before she’d have to drive herself home from the bars.

She wasn’t certain how much she’d had to drink or how long they’d been at Chora’s Den by the time she was stumbling into the alley behind the bar. It had started to rain, and Piper fumbled clumsily with her hood, struggling to get her inebriated fingers to cooperate.

She finally pulled her hood up over her unruly hair, and she smiled in triumph as her fumbling fingers lit a cigarette. She took a deep, satisfied drag and released it into the damp nighttime air, then briefly lifted her face to enjoy the rain on her heated cheeks.

A moment later, she heard the bar’s back door swinging open, and the loud sounds of laughter and music spilled out before the door slammed shut again. Piper smiled fuzzily as she took another pull of her cigarette. It was probably Peronn; he’d told her he would be right behind her.

She turned toward the door. “Hey you-”

The left side of her face collided with a fist. A starburst of white-hot pain burst across her vision, and the twin devils of alcohol and agony had her on the asphalt in a second.

Piper collapsed on her hands and knees, gasping in shock as the unforgiving ground scraped against her palms. Already she could feel a burn of pain rising from her battered browbone. Her ears were ringing, and everything was spinning, and that cheap-as-shit alcohol they’d been guzzling was absolutely no help.

“Wh-whathefuck…” she slurred. She tried shakily to push herself upright, and was met with a foot to her gut.

The air left her lungs with an ugly grunt, and she collapsed onto her shoulder and curled instinctively into a ball.

The contents of her stomach were curdling at the back of her throat. Through the haze of pain and disbelief, she heard a voice - a horribly familiar voice. “Just grab the cash, phone, and her keys.”

Peronn? No. There was no fucking way. He wouldn’t, not Peronn - they shared a bed together, he… he loved her. He’d even almost told her so one time. He wouldn’t. She was drunk, she was hearing things…

Piper dared to open her eyes, vaguely noting that the left one wouldn't quite open all the way.

She blinked hard and tried to take in the scene before her. Peronn and Maara were huddled together talking in low, urgent voices, and Duncan was crouching down beside her and reaching inside her jacket.

She tried to tuck her arm in closer to protect the precious envelope in her inside pocket. “Th’fuck are you doing?” she complained. “Some kind of sick fucking joke?”

She lamely tried to bat Duncan’s hand away, and was swiftly met with another fist to the face.

Piper recoiled at the impact. A warm wash of blood trickled over her upper lip, which was burning with the same kind of agony that had lit her left browbone on fire.

She choked out a weak little sob and feebly curled her arms over her head. Duncan pried the keys and phone from her pocket, and Piper whimpered in protest as he pulled her hard-won cash from her inner pocket.

Give it back, she thought, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat was aching, and her head was pounding, and through the rising wave of realization - they fucked me over - Peronn’s smooth voice reached her ringing ears.

“No hard feelings, Pip.”

A swell of tears thickened at the back of her throat. The once-sweet term of endearment stung worse than the beating.

She struggled to sit upright. Maara and Duncan were already moving off, and Piper thought she could hear Maara saying something snide about ‘fucking Dalish bumpkins’, but she could barely take it in. Her dazed eyes drifted over Peronn’s dirty Converse sneakers, then slowly up his lanky body to his pitying smirk.

“Why?” she croaked. Her voice sounded so small in her ears. She sounded so weak - fuck, she was so weak to ask - but she had to know.

He slowly crouched beside her. Despite the beating he’d clearly orchestrated, her stupid, drunken heart couldn’t help a little hopeful jolt.

Peronn ran his thumb along her swollen left cheek, then gave it a light slap, and Piper flinched at the strike. He was being so fucking cruel. Those long-fingered hands of his, hands that had once held her so tenderly… they felt like sandpaper on her skin.

Peronn casually rested his elbows on his knees and tilted his head. “We got into a little trouble. You know how it is. So thanks for the helping hand, yeah?”

Piper’s sodden mind was reeling. What kind of trouble? Was it… did it have to do with the people who were always coming through the apartment? Now that Piper thought about it, there were a lot of whispered, furtive conversations…

Gods, I’m such a fucking idiot. She should have guessed. She’d always known her friends - hah, friends - toed the line of the law, but…

But why didn’t they just ask for help? All they’d had to do was ask. All this for some fucking money that she would have been more than happy to lend them if they needed it. Had this been a setup from day one?

That thought was the one that hurt the most. The thought that all of this - the months she’d spent with them, that she’d spent with him, twisted together on that fucking futon of his -

Peronn rose to his feet and started to walk away, and Piper just… watched him go. Her usual sharp tongue had no witty remark, no snide comment; she couldn’t even form a complete sentence at the back of her muddled mind.

Just before he left the alley, Peronn glanced over his shoulder at her one last time. “Better luck next time, kid,” he said. Then he was gone.

Luck. Fucking luck. Of course he had to throw her own stupid little motto back at her. At that thought, her swollen face crumpled with misery and not a little pain.

Her tears were scalding, adding further to the discomfort of her split and bloodied lip. Piper let her heavy head hang low, tears dripping from the tip of her nose and joining with the rain that was slowly soaking through her hood.

She was back to square one. No, worse than square one. When she’d left her clan, she hadn’t had any money or family, but at least her face was intact. And at least… fuck, at least she’d been able to trust people. What was she supposed to do now? Just assume everyone she met was going to take her shit and leave her alone and beaten on the street?

An ugly little sob escaped her throat. Piper scowled at herself for being so dramatic, then winced in pain as the scowl split her eyebrow even further, causing a fresh trickle of blood to leak down the side of her face.

She took a deep breath, then spat a gobbet of bloody phlegm onto the wet asphalt. With effort, she managed to get her feet under her, then carefully lifted her aching body up until she was standing again.

She stumbled slightly as her spinning head tried to right itself. “Fuck,” she groaned. Her solar plexus felt bruised from Duncan’s kick, and there was gravel embedded in the scratches in her palms, and her face felt like it was on fire. And still she knew this was only the start of it. She was still drunk, still slightly numb from the booze, and she could only imagine the agony that would be coming for her later when the whiskey wore off.

She slowly made her way toward the back door of the Chora’s Den and leaned heavily against the wall. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out her smokes - she supposed she was lucky that Duncan had let her keep those, at least - then pulled out a cigarette and her lighter.

She carefully lit the cigarette with trembling hands, then took a long drag from the uninjured corner of her mouth. Ten seconds later, the cigarette was smoked down to the butt, and Piper dropped it on the ground and watched silently as the tiny spark fizzled out into a pitiful little stream of smoke.

She sighed heavily and leaned her aching head against the wall. Peronn and the others were probably packed up and long gone by now. It’s not like they owned much stuff to begin with. That was probably why Peronn had made her spend the whole day out with him. This was definitely why Maara had insisted that they come straight here from the bank instead of giving Piper time to go home and change.

I fucked up. It was the only conclusion Piper had. She’d trusted total strangers, taken out all her cash, and gone and gotten blind drunk with thirty thousand bucks in her pocket. Of course it was her fault. And there was no point going to the police. She had no proof of what they’d done. Besides, the police in this city weren’t super trusting of the Dalish.

Piper ran a hand over her soaking hood. What now? There was nothing left for her in Ansburg. No friends, no home, no money… she had her job, but that wasn’t much good without a place to stay.

She sighed. Looked like it was back to the nomadic lifestyle. She could probably talk her boss into cutting her final check early; that would be enough to get her a bus ticket and a few necessary supplies before heading out to…

Well, that was the question. Where was she going to go? Somewhere new, for sure; Piper wasn’t much of one for retracing her steps, especially since her steps thus far had led to this.

Where to next, then? This was the question she pondered as she pulled open the back door of Chora’s Den and dragged herself to the restroom. It was the question she thought about as she tossed her bloody wad of paper towels into the trash, then pulled open the restroom door and headed down the short hall toward the main room of the bar.

As she weaved her way along the hall, her inebriated eyes fell on a flyer tacked to the announcement board: a bright green flyer for a band called Blightfall, who were playing Kirkwall in three days’ time.

Blightfall. Piper had never heard of them. That was good. No memories of Peronn to tack the music onto. And she’d never been to Kirkwall before.

She smirked to herself. She’d heard Kirkwall was a right shithole this time of year, but really, it couldn’t be worse than here.

She pulled down the flyer and stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans, then meandered back into the main room. The music was too loud and the laughter too bright for her pounding head, but she took a seat at the bar anyway.

The bartender glanced at her in passing, then did a double-take at her swollen face. Then, as bartenders were sometimes wont to do, he chose not to ask any questions.

He leaned his palms on the bar and tilted his head. “What can I get you?”

Piper ruefully twisted her lips until it hurt. She sheepishly shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and was about to tell him she hadn’t any money for a drink, but before she could speak, her fingers found a soft scrap of paper in the depths of her pocket.

She pulled it out. It was a ten-dollar bill.

That’s lucky, she thought. And despite herself, despite the shitshow of the night she’d just had and the shitshow that was sure to meet her in the ugly light of day, Piper smiled.

She slid the bill across the bar. “Whiskey, neat,” she said.

The bartender nodded and turned away to fetch her drink, and Piper sat back with a sigh.

I make my own luck, she thought. Tonight, that luck was a ten-dollar bill.

Tomorrow, Kirkwall.

#piper lavellan #piperford #cullavellan #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullen/inquisitor #cullen x inquisitor #luck of the law #modern au #pikapeppa writes

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takemedancingmaine · 6 years ago

Text

I'm slipping off my trainers at the front door when Piper steps out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, another wrapped around her hair on her head.

“You ran?” She asks, stopping short at the sight of me. I stretch an arm across my chest and nod before I pull the milk from the fridge to pour a glass. Her tone is curious without there being any sense of her trying to pry.

It's odd that even though I just ran 8k I still feel lethargic in my movements and brain function. “Not long,” I shrug, my shoulders feeling heavy. “Not my best.” Not by a long shot.

“You still went,” she encourages me. Again, I nod as I stretch my other arm, trying to loosen my upper body after the tension it experienced the past two days. “Can you turn the kettle on?” She begins to move toward her room.

Instead of answering I reach over to the kettle and make sure there's enough water in it before turning it on. She calls a “thanks” over her shoulder as she slips into her room to get dressed.

I need to cool down more before I can shower, so I start pulling out ingredients for oatmeal when my personal mobile rings from its place on the coffee table.

I finally got the courage to look at it last night just before Jack left. I didn't read anything or listen to the messages from Liam or Jack, just deleted those because they both eventually got their answers. I just cleaned out the notifications and then placed it back down on the table until now.

It's Liam.

“Open the bloody door.”

No ‘hello’, no ‘hi, I'm on my way,’ none of that. It's Liam though, so I can't be expecting too much, really.

I frown in confusion but head over to my call box anyway and hit the buzzer.

“Thank you,” he says and then the connection is lost. Not ten seconds later though, my brother is striding through my front door, all tall, lanky Liam and his concerned big brother face he's trying so hard not to make obvious.

He doesn't care that I'm sweaty, he immediately walks up to me and pulls me into a hug. It reminds me of when we were kids and I was scared of thunder and Liam would build a blanket fort with me under the dining table and sometimes just comfort me with a big hug. It reminds me of when I failed my first big uni exam and Liam just wrapped me up in a giant hug and then took me for gelato. And it reminds me of when four months ago our roles were reversed and I hugged my brother with such intensity it felt like I was the only thing holding him together, in one piece.

It feels like he's trying to do the same thing for me right now.

“I'm sorry I'm a shit brother,” he whispers into my hair.

I shake my head as much as I can within the embrace. “No. This was me.”

“Wren-”

“I'm serious,” I hold him tight. “This was all me. I let it get this bad. I need to take responsibility so it won't happen like this again.”

“That's not how it works and you know it.”

“I know,” I sigh.

“Good try though,” he teases. “That sort of cadence and that initial conviction would go far in a courtroom.”

“You came over here just to lecture her on how to be a good lawyer?” Piper says in disdain as Liam gives me a final, tight squeeze and lets me go. He does keep one arm around me though.

“I can't help it,” Liam defends himself as he gives Piper a one-armed hug with his free appendage. “It's just who I am.”

“My god, I don't know how no one has punched you in the face yet,” Piper frees herself from him and begins to make herself tea.

“It's not like no one’s tried,” Liam shrugs. “Are you going in today?” He asks her as he takes in her appearance. “I thought Sunday's were your off day unless there was a showing.”

“I wasn't going to,” she admits and I feel guilt rise within me. She skipped yesterday. “But Wren is okay. She won't be sitting here all day, moping.”

“She won't be?” He glances down at me, curious.

“She won't be,” I say for myself now. The guilt over keeping Piper home yesterday is there, but I need to remind myself that she wanted to. She chose to. I didn't make her. And I feel that I owe her for it, but I don't need to feel guilty for it.

“You've got plans?” He asks.

I nod.

“With Jack?” He is giving me a look, a pointed look, and I know because I can feel it. I don't see it though because I refuse to look.

I nod again and make to break from his embrace to start making my breakfast, but he holds me to him.

“Are you up for that?” His concern right now is not regarding me and the guy I'm seeing, his concern is regarding my mental well-being and whether I'll be okay spending the day with someone. For me, seeing the difference in his concern is easy.

“I'm okay,” I nod once more. “I'll be okay,” I lean into him and give him a squeeze.

“Will you tell me anything about him?” He asks. The concern shifts on its head. One second it's about my mental health the next it's about the fact that I'm seeing a boy. Brothers are ridiculous.

“He's Scottish,” I shrug and slip out of the embrace to start making breakfast. I'd been careful not to overstuff my stomach yesterday and after almost two days of practically fasting. I am understandably hungry after my run this morning.

“Wren,” Liam sighs as he watches me start heating milk for my oatmeal.

“Mm?” I ask.

Beside me at the kettle Piper snorts as she looks between me and my brother.

“Seriously, when am I going to get information about this bloke? He's seeing my sister and all I've got is a name. Just a first name.” He turns to Piper. “I bet you’ve met him, haven't you?”

Piper nods and answers in an even tone, barely glancing up at Liam. “Twice.”

“Wren!”

“What?” I ask as if I'm baffled why he'd be upset with me. I know my tone and aloofness is only going to rile him up further.

Liam huffs in annoyance. It worked.

“Why can't I meet him?”

“You will,” I shrug. I don't mention the fact that Liam has met Jack more than twice. But, to be fair, he has.

“You know…” he shakes his head and sighs. “I really want to start with you, and you deserve me to, but I know you're not back yet. Come Friday dinner though? I'm going to hound you for every detail there could be.”

I just stare at him. I don't doubt his threat for a second.

“Okay,” I say eventually after a few minutes of silence. “D’you want some breakfast? Have you eaten?” I'm stirring in the oatmeal as it heats on the stovetop and as is typical for me I've made way too much.

Liam pops a blueberry into his mouth, greedy hands reaching into the container on the counter, and nods. “Sure, thanks.”

“Where's my nephew?” I ask after divvying up our portions.

“Charlie is fine,” he says, giving me a look. He knows I was jokingly suggesting him being a horrible parent. “He’s with a mate from school until later this afternoon.”

He grabs a bowl and jumps up to sit on the counter. I grab us each a spoon and jump up beside him, Piper rolls her eyes at us before she grabs her brew and takes a sip. She never understood my sitting on the counter until she saw Liam do it. Then she connected it.

She jumps up onto the last bit of free space, caddy-corner from me, our knees touching. I got her to do it our third year of uni. She's been doing it begrudgingly ever since.

“How’ve the two of you been?” I ask. A fortnight out from Charlie’s meltdown and I'm curious. Jack was paying attention to Charlie all week, just as he had done the week before, but with my down days, I hadn't gotten a chance to ask him about it.

Liam shrugs. “It was almost like he was afraid of me for a week or so like he didn't say much and was almost too polite. He didn't start anything with me, not at lunch not at dinner, not when we were almost late to school. Nothing,” he shrugs.

“Can I document this?” Piper asks, a smirk sliding onto her features. “Liam complaining about his son being too polite.”

I snort and Liam just gives her a look that says he's so done with her. He's not. He’s been stuck with her since she and I became friends. He respects her and is fiercely protective of her just like he is of me. He does resent that I've given him another smart mouth to have to endure though.

“It felt like my son was scared of me and that was the worst feeling in the world,” he says. “He's been a bit more like himself recently though.”

“I'm glad,” I give a supportive nudge with my shoulder. “I'm sure he’ll be fine,” I add. “He's just now realizing what happened though and that might take a bit to process, especially because it's so far out from when it happened.”

“Melissa?” He asks, giving me a curious glance.

“Wren,” I give him a serious look and point to myself. “I’m your sister, Liam.” Piper snorts again.

“You are so annoying,” my brother groans.

“O’course I am,” I smile back up at him and lean my head against him for a moment before moving to eat my breakfast.

“I did have a question for you, actually,” he nudges me with his elbow.

I swallow my bite of food and look up at him. “What?”

“How bad was it?”

“It was far from my worst,” I tell him truthfully. “And I have an appointment Thursday where I can hash it out,” I add.

“Piper?” His gaze leaves mine as looks over at her to confirm what I've told him.

“It really wasn't all that bad, Li,” she nods. “She even ate a bit throughout the day yesterday and she did her run this morning.”

“Was it anything in particular?”

Guilt. I can hear it, almost feel it as it wraps around his tone.

“Not that I've been able to tell,” I tell him. “I think it was just me being tired that pushed me to it. I'm fine at work and I'm happy in my life outside of work as well. I really just think I was tired and that strained me.”

“How much sleep were you getting?” He asks.

“Well, I’d still been getting up at the time I used to before I started with the broadcast team. So I was going to bed later and still waking up just as early. I guess it finally caught up with me.”

“And you're going to fix that?” He doesn't ask it like a question, but the query is implied.

“No, I thought I'd quite like to go through this again. Ya know, really experiment and see how long I can hold out between breakdowns. A month? Three weeks? Trial and error to get the perfect amount of exhaustion to push me over the ledge,” I shrug and remark casually.

“You're such a dick,” he elbows me none too gently and gives a big dramatic sigh.

“Love you too, big bruv,” I give him a wide smile before poking his cheek and then shoulder. I keep poking his shoulder.

“Oi,” he shrugs me off. “Christ. I love you. Now, will you fuck off so I can eat?”

I'm in my comfiest knit sweater and my oldest, most worn pair of jeans. The denim worked to a point it's soft against my legs. I've got a knit cap on over my hair that's doing wonders to keep me warm as fall and the chill really settle over London in full force.

It is almost November.

It'll hit midweek and then I'll be able to listen to Christmas tunes without anyone giving me shit for it. I can feel the air in a way I couldn't before. It's no longer weighed down with humidity and instead just encases me in a crisp and light feeling. The last of the leaves still on the trees are turning too, and a calm comfort settles over the city as the summer tourists leave and there's a small reprieve.

I think a lot about autumn, and often reflect on it in a metaphorical state. Fall can show us just how beautiful it is to let things go. I'm not sure what it is yet that I have to let go in this particular fall, but I know there's probably more than one thing.

I once read something about how October is about trees revealing colours they've hidden all year. As I walk with the flow of people on the sidewalk I can't help but think people have an October as well, within them just waiting for something to bring it out.

I think of Liam and Charlie and how a song brought out something they'd been avoiding for four months. I think of myself and how Jack has brought something in me out, as well. I think of Piper and how I've seen her so invested in her art recently. I feel so guilty for keeping her home yesterday because she's really thrown herself into her work these past few weeks. I wonder what brought it out in her.

Shoving my hands in my pockets when a particularly cold breeze hits me, I duck my head down and pick up my pace. The clouds in the sky not filled with any threat of rain as I shuffle along.

There are leaves crunching under my feet as I manoeuvre toward his front steps. I shift my bag and hit the buzzer.

“It's Wren,” I say, my voice whipped away by a gust of wind, but somehow he hears me.

“C’mon up,” The buzzing starts and I step inside, closing the door behind me and heading up the stairs.

I notice for a second time today that although I'm up and mobile today, my movements are sluggish and my limbs still feel heavy. It takes me twice as long as it usually would to climb two flights of stairs and I feel physically exhausted having done so.

I think of Liam's concern this morning when he was asking if I was up for plans today, and bite my bottom lip as I try to shake them off. Maybe I'm not, maybe this was a bad idea, but I'm here anyway.

His front door is unlocked, but I give a light knock as I enter. There's music playing softly from somewhere, the back of my mind recognizing it as Fleetwood Mac while I just look around the room. I close the door gently behind myself and place my bag by the door, pushing my hat off and placing it on top of my things.

He emerges from what I assume is his bedroom wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. I run through my brain to try and remember ever having seen him in anything other than nice trousers or black jeans and am coming up empty.

“Hi,” I look up at him, pulling my sweater sleeves down over my palms and biting my bottom lip.

His hair is still wet from his shower as he gives me a soft look and comes up to me, one hand coming to rest on the small of my back, the other coming up to brush some of my hair from my face.

He's walking a fine line between treating me like I'm fragile and also being respectful of my incredibly raw emotional state. He's balancing quite well, though I wouldn't be surprised if he fell once or twice.

“Hi,” he says back quietly and kisses my forehead. A warm feeling seeps into my whole being.

“My brother wants to meet you,” I spill out quickly.

“Good morning to you too,” he chuckles and pulls back a bit.

I just blink at him. I give him the potentially horrifying news and that's how he responds.

“Also,” he winks and kisses my cheek, “technically I've already met your brother. Many times.”

I groan and roll my eyes. “I don't know if that makes it better or worse.”

“When are we introducing me formally then?” Jack takes a step back and starts toward his kitchen. He runs a hand through his hair.

“He and I do dinner together every Friday,” I turn to follow him. I made the decision to invite him while on the walk between the tube and his front door.

He flips on the kettle and grabs two mugs for us. My head tilts down toward the floor and my eyes latch onto my hands that are wringing together. “He's already planning on interrogating me about you then as it is.”

“I'd be happy to join,” he says and I feel him brush a hand against my shoulder, trying to get me to look up. “He's not going to try and poison me, is he?”

I give a small smile and shake my head. “No,” I look up at him finally. “No, and Charlie is always asleep by then, so that won't be something for you to worry about either.”

His blue eyes flash as he pulls me close, one arm wrapped around my waist and the other pinning me against the counter behind me.

“Tell me something I don't know yet,” he says imploringly.

I take a deep breath, pausing to think of something. “I’m deathly afraid of insects,” I tell him.

“Really?” He asks.

I nod.

“All insects?” He gives me a look of disbelief.

“No,” I shrug. “You know the kinds you hear stories about though, the ones in the Amazon rainforest that can live under your skin or climb in your ears and drive you mad with the sounds?”

“You have much personal experience with those?” He asks.

I roll my eyes. “No, but that's probably because I'm so cautious.”

“Fair point,” he concedes, amusement colouring his tone and his expression. “What else don't I know?”

“I like cold weather. I like fall with the cold air and I love sweaters and fires and hot tea on cold mornings,” I list off. “I also really like old rock music and indie movies and for the past eight years I've gone to therapy.”

“I guess I made a good choice then with Fleetwood Mac,” he smiles and if I strain my ears I can hear the music coming from the other room. “And I've been to therapy too,” he says quickly.

“What?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Lily went through something a few years back and I'd go with her to her sessions and I ended up going to a few myself. I think everyone could use therapy now and again.”

I let that sink in for a moment. Everyone should go to therapy. Whether they're mentally ill or not. Therapy is a tool, not just for the broken, that helps one understand themselves and their situations better. Whether it's a hard time or a good time, therapy and the tactics learned there are helpful to all.

The fact that Jack said that makes me feel particularly safe. He doesn't see my going to therapy as a misfortune or see it in a negative light. He sees it as something anyone should do if they want to be better. That comfort settles all over my body as our eyes just hold each other.

So I lean up a bit and kiss him, delicately at first and then he reacts as I bring my arms up around his neck. He’s kissing me back with a fervour and I feel hot all over, my skin on fire as he pulls me flush against his long, lean body.

I feel drunk. Not really drunk, not like everything is blurry and detached from me. It’s more like that bouncy, floaty feeling you get when you've had two pints and you're all lightheaded and giddy. That's how I feel. That and then there’s the fire. I'm floating and burning up with the feel of him as his hands roam my back, down my sides, his fingertips lifting up my sweater a bit and skirting along the skin of my waist sending small shocks through me.

I feel him shift and he grabs my waist in both hands and lifts me up onto the counter. I let out a little huff of air in surprise and feel him smiling against my lips as we continue to make out.

He pulls me to the edge of the counter and steps in between my legs, one of his hands getting tangled in my hair as the other squeezes my hip, still brushing against my skin where my sweater has ridden up.

He moves from my lips and begins trailing his down my neck and I use the opportunity to breathe and trail my fingers through his soft, still damp hair. He hums and now that my skin feels all tingly where his mouth has been, he brings his lips back up to mine and slows the pace. Fervour turns into a lingering, and that daydream feeling starts to take over as the fire fades.

He pulls away and kisses my nose, my forehead before biting his lip and looking at me through his lashes.

I run a hand through my hair and sort out a few of the tangles and just try to calm my breathing.

“I thought for sure after seeing me yesterday you'd be done with me.” My voice is only a whisper.

I watch as his eyebrows crease and his eyes search my face. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“No,” I shake my head. “No, that's… no.” I pause and take a breath. “I just… I know that it's a lot, that I'm a lot.”

“You are a lot,” his face is still crinkled in confusion. “You're brilliant and funny and you've got a knack for reporting that tells me it's what you're meant to be doing. You're probably the kindest person I've ever met, despite your disdain for cyclists,” I laugh and so does he before he continues on. “Your loyalty to Piper and your brother is second to none, and the love that you give them is palpable, tangible in the air when you're around them.”

He lifts a hand and pushes some of my hair back off my face, behind my ear. “Most of all though, you’re someone who makes me feel like I've never felt before. I don't know if it's because you challenge my intelligence daily or because you're always looking for a way to surprise me with something. Whether it's that you like the same old bands that I do, or it's that you make the best apple scones I've ever had, I find myself always wanting to know more.”

I don't have the energy to cry. I'm actually physically all cried out. I do feel myself blush this violent shade of red though. A blush that starts in my cheeks and extends all the way down my neck and chest.

“Would you believe that I've never felt this way about someone either?” I ask, my voice only a whisper.

He just blushes and smiles.

“You're special, Lowden,” I tell him.

“You are too, Kearney,” his smile turns to a smirk when he uses my last name. I just blush and bite my bottom lip before he leans forward and kisses me, delicately, but with enough intention behind it.

I smile into the kiss and reach for one of his hands, lancing my fingers together with his.

“You should probably start preparing me for you brother,” he says as he rests his forehead against mine. “If he's as bad as you say I'll probably need as much guidance as I can get.”

I groan. I know he's only teasing, but I just keep thinking of Liam with his courtroom eyes and tone and when I think of those focused on Jack I already want to squirm.

“How about you just be you and in the meantime, we bake the last of your apples into scones and then head out to my favourite place?”

He sighs deeply before, “Alright, deal.”

“How’re we up here?” He asks as he spins around in a circle, getting the full 360 views.

“I once swiped Liam’s keycard from his briefcase and never saw fit to give it back,” I shrug. “I think he just assumed he lost it somewhere.”

“And it still works?” He says, looking out, not at me.

“It does.”

I wrap my arms around myself as I do my own spin around to try and see everything. It's beautiful up here. I can't even so much of London, we’re only just over forty stories up. It's seeing a bit of it from up above, from the top of Liam’s office building, though, that gives a renewed or an entirely new perspective.

“How'd you find this place?” He asks now.

“I found it when I was looking for Liam,” I say and sit down on one of the metal rooftop structures. “It was just over a week after April’s funeral and no one could find him. I remembered in uni he used to climb onto the roof of his housing unit and later the roof of his apartment building… I followed a hunch and found him here.”

I feel Jack sit next to me as I look out across the city, the grey sky a calm backdrop to the London I've come to love and know is bustling with life far below.

“He was trying to gain perspective?”

I take a deep breath and hold it before slowly letting it out with a short nod. “I know that sometimes he still finds his way up here, but mostly I've kind of stolen it as my own sanctuary.”

“This is pretty unbelievable,” the awe is present in his tone.

I'm quiet as I look out, just taking slow deep breaths and listening for everything. I feel like Superman when he's floating above the Earth, focused tuned out so that he hears everything going on below. I can just process it all, internal and external, without focusing too much on any one voice or sound that floats my direction.

Jack, for his part, is quiet beside me as I just take it in. After a few minutes though he speaks up.

“How often do you find yourself up here?” He asks.

I know what he's really asking. ‘How often am I as low as I was these past three days?’ I take a deep breath.

I'm really not that bad often. And it hasn't been for a while. Some may say that there's something new in my life that's made me this bad, namely Jack, but I know it's not him. I know it's not Jack’s fault.

There's something about fall that is controversial with me. I’m enamoured by the colours and the crisp air and the activities. I love what it represents, as well: shedding layers and revealing truths, and so much creativity in it all.

The problem with fall is that people with depression often can't help it, they just get sad during winter. I have had both my lowest and interestingly enough my highest moments throughout the fall and winter seasons.

There's so much warmth throughout the season but also so much darkness and to someone with depression, the warmth is intoxicating so much so that we don't notice our own downward spiral.

I truly believe what I'd told Liam this morning: it's because I was exhausting myself and my emotions slipped as a result. I'm sure there are small things, feeling incompetent at work--which has become less common but still sometimes slips in--and not seeing Piper as much now that I'm working later, and I'm sure my worry for Liam isn't helping, but I don't blame him for it.

I don't blame anyone. It's just the cycle of my life. Everyone has highs and lows, and my highs and lows are much more extreme. I try to regulate the lows so they're not so debilitating and remember the feeling of the highs so that I have the good to swaddle myself with. It's a continual effort though, and sometimes I slip.

Not often, but I do. And certainly not as often as I used to.

“I've only been here a few times,” I tell him. “Just once not long after I found this place when I had a bad day at work when I couldn't find my perspective. And then again about a month ago I had a moment when I was just feeling overwhelmed by Liam and Charlie and my own life. I just come up here to think about my place, about where I am.”

Jack nods and I lean my head against his shoulder. The sky is still dark grey and the air is still crisp and cool as it whips around us, colder and sharper up here than it is on the streets below.

“I'm not going to tell you that the past few days are unheard of,” I start, looking out as the sky meets the buildings. “I will tell you though that they're uncommon.”

He wraps an arm around me. “Uncommon?”

“I've been getting better and better at managing myself, and within the past two years that's my second,” his scent surrounds and comforts me when I take a deep breath.

“Sometimes I don't notice small skips though, or I do and I ignore them and think they're not big and then I end up here… Or,” I shrug, “or I just make something little into a big thing and drown under it. In uni, it could be exams or essays or a bad mark if it was on something I knew I could've done better on. Now it can be little things like deadlines or disappointing Liam.”

He rubs his hand up and down my arm as I lean my face into his chest for a moment and then look back out before us.

“It's strange, really,” he says. “I so enjoy the way your mind works. You're brilliant and funny and kind…” he gives me a squeeze. “You have made little things in my life more exciting… cooking and baking, board games, running even. But,” I hear him swallow, “I also now know that that mind I enjoy battling wits with and talking to about work and family and just life, in general, is something that can do this to you.”

I know from experience that taking both sides is a struggle.

“It makes me sad, but not for myself,” he sighs. “It makes me sad that someone as spectacular as yourself feels like this, even if it is uncommon.”

“Life is a constant contrast of good versus bad,” I tell him. “Life is finding the balance and enjoying everything regardless of personal battles and I'd like to think I'm pretty good at maintaining that balance and appreciating the good despite the bad. Setbacks don't make me any less good, I can only learn from them.”

“I'm in awe of your mind,” he says. “Your resilience is admirable.”

I smile a real smile that releases some tension within me. “I'm nothing if not persistent in my efforts to keep moving forward.”

We end up sitting in silence until the cold and wind become unbearable before we make our way back to Jack’s flat where we order Thai takeaway and play card games until I notice the time. I’m trying to get to bed early tonight to gather as much energy as I can for tomorrow. That, and I’m practising sleeping in a bit on weekdays now that I can. The balance between sleeping in and running will be a fun one to sort out.

It's not until I'm slipping on my knit cap to leave that I think to ask. “It’s not for three weeks, so I know I’m being preemptive with this, but every year in November a whole lot of us gather at Liam’s house for what we call Friendsgiving and I’d like to invite you.”

Jack looks up from where he’s storing the cards and gives an amused expression. “You do know we’re British, right?”

I scrunch my face. “I started it with Piper and our flatmates back in our uni days and now it’s a thing that Liam, Piper, and I do together. Liam invites a few of his mates and Piper and I invite anyone who’s still in the area after Uni and whoever Piper is seeing at the time. We do it as a celebration of how lucky we are to have people willing to partake in a ridiculously American tradition with us.”

Jack makes his way over to me with a few strides and looks down at me with a crinkle between his eyebrows.

“I s’pose if I’m meeting your brother this week then that’ll be fine with him?” he asks. I nod, it’s fine with me. Liam will get fine with it. “Then I’d love to join,” he smiles.

“Okay,” I nod. I’m hypnotised by his blue eyes, they’re unbelievably blue. I’m pretty sure not even the ocean is that blue. I think the ocean might be jealous of this blue.

“Okay,” he says back. His eyes flash and I feel one hand on my waist and another slipping over my cheek as he leans down and kisses me gently.

I feel myself melt in his grasp before he pulls back.

“Friday?” he asks.

“I’ll see you Friday,” I nod, and slip from his hold. He holds open the door for me and with a look back over my shoulder as I descend the stairs, I make my way back down to street and back to face the reality of work tomorrow.

#ohhhh here it is #chapter thirteen #my favorite number but i'm not sure this is my favorite chapter #that's up for debate #PLEASE leave feedback #let me know what you think #what your hopes are for these characters #what you think will happen #whatever #i want to know!#I genuinely want to know your thoughts #hmd

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crossroadsdiner · 6 years ago

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@technoparadigm replied (+)

Webb invited Jack to meet his family, and Jack was more than pleased to meet the people who procreated such a wonderful person as Webb. In the past, Webb was reluctant to have Jack meet his family but finally agreed to it, warning Jack to be wary of them, and to not mistake their kindness for actual kindness. Jack knew how that went, especially with him.

Meeting Webb’s parents he could endure.

Still, he asked his trusted bodyguards, appointed by his parents since young, Junko and Kasumi to be with him, just to protect and advise him in case anything wrong should happen. Jack felt like things would esculate considering what Webb told him previously.

And it quickly did. Once Webb introduced him, he could never shake the watchful eyes off of him. The judgemental ones. The ones he knew far too well. The ones he knew far too well… And that Jack certainly knew he could counter. Yes, this should be fun. Even as Xavier tells him what he already knew.

Junko and Kasumi look toward the other man and then look at Jack, who had a sinister, sweet smile on his face. This would not go well. They were looking at Jack, in fear of what his reaction would be to such a comment. One didn’t cross Jack Spicer and get away with it, of all things.

Jack chuckled.

“I see, I see. He is disapproving. Do you see this, Junko? Kasumi? He is disapproving. Now, Mr. Xavier, as much as it is nauseating to be in your presence, I simply must ask you what I have done to earn such… Hostility. And I will ask you to speak your case gently. I suggest you take this RARE occurance that I will not act hostile in retaliation– you may thank your kind, and gentle son for that. Someone who you raised, I’m sure, to not be reflective of your ill ideals.”

Webster Xavier Byrd the Third is a proud man. His pride had been well earned. He had married the heiress Adora Kent with pride, bore a child with her with pride - the fourth Webster Xavier Byrd in a line of impressive Webster Xavier Byrd’s, and proudly brought Byrd Transport onto the international stage.

Webster Xavier Byrd the Third’s pride had also been rigorously fought for. He had stayed with his wife when her brother had been murdering children because divorce had seemed most damaging to his pride and he had later divorced her anyway, because being related to a murderer was, after all, far more shameful of the two once the media was involved.

Xavier, as he went by, projected his pride onto his son, Webster Xavier the Fourth, or Webb, as he went by. Webb’s disability was to be hidden unless it could be played as a story of triumph. Webb’s interest in gymnastics was encouraged as long as he won awards and then stopped when it took focus away from the family business.

Webb’s love interested were closely vetted. They must be heiresses. They should have ties to politics, republican, obviously, and an interest in business or law. When Webb had come out as bisexual he’d been advised to “Think again.” When he’d brought home Piper Carlisle he’d been welcomed with open arms.

Jack Spicer owned a multinational corporation and that was a very good thing, but the only good thing. Webb had never looked at Piper Carlisle like he looked at this disowned Japanese boy.

Xavier scowls at Jack Spicer. “Webster has a good thing with Ms Carlisle.” He says evenly. “It does him no good to mess that up with whatever feelings he may have you you, Mr Spicer. You may stay the night, but I expect you gone by breakfast.”

#technoparadigm #thread #Xavier III

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goonlalagoon · 7 years ago

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A Boy with a Badge || Leagues and Legends

So it’s been exactly a year since @ink-splotch first published Remember the Dust, and I decided to use that as a deadline to finish this up because I’ve been dropping in and out of it for ages.

Title shamelessly referencing ink-splotch’s own ‘Boy with a Scar’, because three guesses where I the idea for this from.

Spoilers for the whole trilogy below.

(Read on Ao3)

In the last year of his life, Jack Farris had shot up tall. Bea had rolled her eyes when he asked for the sewing kit so he could (inexpertly) lengthen the hems of his trousers yet again and declared his mother must have kicked him out from home because she knew this endless need for new clothes was coming. Jack grinned at her and had crooked hems until the next growth spurt hit (then slightly less crooked ones, because he had more practice, now). He'd hit his head on branches he had once scurried beneath and found the stash of snow cookies on the shelf that had previously been safely out of sight. He had complained when he noticed them, loud and laughing, that he wasn't a kid you had to hide treats from. Liam had laughed back and told him yeah you are, Farris, only mostly joking.

He'd been growing tall, by the end - by the end there had been so much of him to fall, to hit the ground in accelerated slow motion. Falling was the bravest thing Liam had ever known, and Jack had always been so very brave.

They held each other up at the funeral, Bea's hand in his, in George's, his arms around them both, Bidi clinging to their legs. Bea wept, hard, and George stood like mountain stone. Liam watched them lower the body into the ground as dark clouds shifted overhead, and murmured we fill the sky with our mourning.

Later George asked, voice rough, what he had meant. He told them, voice cracking, heart breaking - and how was that possible? His heart was already broken so why was it splintering all over again? - about white wings and dark skies. His heart was breaking, and he wanted to go home, but this was his home, wasn't it?

After a month, Bea packed a bag and told him to go. Her hands were steady and her eyes were soft, a mountain woman who’d never seen desert sands except in his stories. It had been a month of drifting, George curling in on herself and Bidi throwing confused toddler tantrums at Jack's absence. It had been a month of staring at his hands and wondering what he could have done differently. It had been a month of wanting his mother's comforting composure and wondering how tall his baby sister had grown.

He argued, hands waving and voice low. He had a family here, he wasn't abandoning them, he wasn't leaving George to do this on her own. George shook her head and thunked her own bag down on the table, trading a look with Bea that said I told you so. "Someone has to go tell the Farrises their son isn't coming home."

He couldn't let her do it alone. The resistance would run on, Challenge and the Merry Men, the Baker's masterminded network, but the Piper and the Dragon Slayer travelled south with the Rangers until they reached a crossroads. Every step was heavy, weighed down. Liam wondered if George felt like they were carrying the Giantkiller on their shoulders as well.

The Farris Rambly house was almost as familiar to Liam as the little bakery, winters' worths of stories and sprawling descriptions. It was a noisy, chaotic place, but something in their faces made silence spread out from their arrival. Liam was a storyteller, a singer, but the words caught in his throat, so it was George's stiff voice that hit air first.

George wasn't good at this - she knew she wasn't good at this, at soft words and gentle reveals, at sympathy and kindness. But then these words would be like throwing stones into a pool whatever she said - the ripples to the back of the room as faces fell, crumpled, and wept.

"We met Jack in the mountains - he was one of our best friends. He died saving people." She swallowed, squeezed Liam's hand. "He was always saying he'd come home to visit, soon. I'm sorry."

The Farrises insisted they stay. In the mountains you mourned by burying your loved ones deep into the ground. In the desert you filled the sky with smoke, a beacon and a symbol. In the Forest you planted their favourite tree, and told stories over it - here is who they were, here is how they grew. Liam's tongue came loose and he filled the night with tales of a boy who wanted to save everyone he met.

When they left, George offered to go to the desert with him, but he shook his head. Someone had to go back to Bea and Bidi, and this close to his family's world he didn't have the strength to turn back. George shooed him along with a smile. "Get going. I've travelled on my own plenty of times." There was a Jack shaped shadow to her voice, so he didn't say but you shouldn't have had to, not ever, and you weren’t supposed to need to ever again, just turned towards the desert and started walking.

He found his first family by an old, faintly familiar oasis. He wandered into camp with a grin he didn't quite feel comfortable with and his mother shot to her feet, delight breaking through her smooth mask. He hugged aunts and slapped his uncles’ backs, kissed cheeks and cooed over new arrivals, then looked around.

“Hey, where's Laney?" There was a bubble of solemn quiet and for an agonising heartbeat he thought he'd lost her too, but his mother just shook her head, disapproval plain on her face if you knew her well enough to see it. “She went off to that Academy. Turned out she was a Mage after all. You only missed her by a week." Liam had tried to teach his sister to hold fire in her cupped hands and knew it was a fool’s errand, but he held his tongue. He stayed long weeks with them, telling stories and learning how to be a desert child again. He’d been there almost a month before he told his mother that he’d lost a friend on his travels, how he’d fallen just out of Liam’s desperate reach. He cried as she rubbed his back and ran gentle hands over his hair the way she had when he was a kid, and wished this was something she could fix for him.

It was a long, lonely trek back to the mountains. His heart lifted at the thought of seeing his wife and child, Georgie, his other friends, but as the mountains threw shadows over him all he felt was cold. He was tired, tired of planning and fighting and holding people up at children's funerals.

By the time he walked back over the threshold, he’d been turning the idea over and over with every step. He talked with Bea and George until the early hours, and the next time the Rangers were in town he was waiting with a pen and an application form.

There were two L. Joneses in that year’s intake. Rupert was far too polite to ask why they had turned up weeks apart, or why Miss L. Jones, mage, hadn’t mentioned that her brother would be joining the guide programme. Then again, Liam was a last minute addition to the course, his application arriving technically late but with strong endorsement from several quarters - the Rangers’ guide had apparently met him on the road, and thought the lad had talent and motivation, even if he was a few years older than the usual intake (Bea had had some paperwork forged to make the age gap a little less extreme). To Rupert, he had the slightly wide eyed look of the desperate, but it wasn’t his business to pry. He rattled through the introduction and pointed out the correct door - L. Jones, guide, and B. Keen, mage - and jerked his head down the hallway.

“Laney is in with Gloria, up that staircase and third on the right, if you want to tell her you’ve arrived.” It wasn’t his place to pry, but even so he noted the way Liam’s eyes flickered and thought ah, so she doesn’t know you’re here. Rupert disappeared into his own room, and a waiting stack of his uncle’s paperwork. He only had two hours before he was due to slip out to meet Sez, who had directions to a new little problem in the lower city. Rupert liked solving problems.

Liam shifted on his feet. In the haze of applications and leaving, he hadn’t figured out how to tell Laney that he was going to be turning up like a lost puppy. He turned on his heel and started towards the staircase, bag still slung over his shoulder. He paused to trace a finger over his sister’s course, wondering how she’d thrown the sand in everyone’s eyes for this, and knocked gently. A pink cheeked blonde girl opened it almost immediately, and he almost rapped her on the nose because he wasn’t done knocking.

“Oh! Um…hi?” “Hi,” he smiled politely, then his eyes met his sister’s over her shoulder. Laney dropped the glass she was holding and the blonde girl - presumably Gloria - jumped as it shattered, but Liam just winced. “Hi, Lane. Long time no see.” Gloria looked between them, then snapped her fingers at Laney.

“Hey, Jones, do I need to play bodyguard here or can I go to the library?” Laney made a vague flapping motion and Liam stood aside to let Gloria past, before stepping carefully around the broken glass to wrap his arms around his baby sister and cry into her shoulder, because less than half a year ago he’d buried a brother that she would never get to know.

He wrote to Bea, Bidi, and George, every week - fat packets of letters smuggled out to a hidden family. He told Laney about them that first afternoon, curled on the edge of her bunk, words spilling out of him like water. He tried to tell her about Jack, but all he could manage was to say he’d lost a friend, the same truth with gaping holes as the tale he’d told their mother. When he was done wiping his eyes, she opened a rift, and he fell hard enough to bruise, the world screaming around him.

“Damn, Laney, I knew you were determined, but this…” She smiled, sharp, eyes still worried. She hadn’t tried opening a rift around a mage before, and was suddenly foreseeing a lot of problems if she wasn’t very careful. Then again, she was good at careful and precise. Liam grinned back, shakily, and whistled sparks out of the air for her to flick smugly between her fingers.

He didn’t tell her everything. There were secrets that weren’t his to share, and lives that only lasted while Bea’s network was uninterrupted, and things that he just wanted to hide from for a while, but he told her the barest bones of his life since he left the desert for the first time. When he described the Graves’ machines, her fists clenched hard enough to turn her knuckles pale, fury and grief. Liam watched her face twist, horror and dismay, and tried to remember not having known. It felt like he’d always known mages were being stolen, drained. It felt like he’d always been trying to spirit them away to safety, but it hadn’t even been a quarter of his life.

They fought for the first time in years bare weeks later, chins lifted, eyes flashing, acid spilling from their lips. After, Liam curled up in the branches of a tree, bitterness rolling in his gut. He missed Bea, his darling daughter, Georgie, so much it hurt - he was missing them because he had missed Laney, quietly, for years now, but she wasn’t Laney any more. He spoke and it was like she wasn’t hearing him, and he buried his face in his arms and wondered if she’d forgotten how to understand him, or if he had stopped knowing how to talk to her.

Laney stalked to the library and studied like her life depended on it, everything in her shrieking perfection, no flaws, no weakness, I’m not a child missing targets in the dark anymore, Liam, I don’t need you to treat me like a kid - she had been chasing Liam ever since she could remember, stumbling in his footprints, drifting in his wake, and now he seemed further away than ever.

Rupert noticed, because Rupert watched everything, but it was Gloria who dropped down opposite Liam the next day as he was pushing his breakfast around his plate and fixed him with a startlingly pointed look.

“You know, people grow up even if you’re not there.” He flinched, and she frowned. “I mean, you seem surprised every time she mentions anything that you don’t remember. She says you left the desert years ago - did you think she wouldn’t have changed? Do you really think you haven’t changed, either?” She got up again before he could respond, and he huffed out a tired laugh. “What, not gonna wait for me to thank you for your wise advice?” She flicked her braid back over her shoulder and shrugged. “Nah, I’m a sage. It’s my job to tell people things. Whether it gets through their skulls or not is frankly not my concern, at this point.”

Laney knocked on his door that evening and snuck him out to the shooting range, smile sharp, guns polished, aim perfect. He leaned on the fence and tried to see the child he’d left behind in her steady stance and precise movements. He took a shaky breath, and tried to see the woman she’d grown into instead.

Liam wrote home weekly, to his wife and daughter, his second sister, his varied friends in the mountains. They wrote back just as often, Bidi’s latest crayon pictures carefully packaged in pieces of card to keep them flat. Bea wrote to Laney, too, well before Laney had really adjusted to the idea that her footloose brother was married, let alone that she was an aunt. It took almost a month for Laney to figure out how to reply, but eventually Sez was ferrying letters between several different Jones’ (even if she didn’t know who they ended up with - letters passed from Rivertown to contacts, north through quiet hands, to a small, sleepy village, and back through the same route)

He wrote to his mother less often, when he remembered. It was only recently that he had realised the people he left behind might wonder where he went, might want to hear his stories before he made it home, that people at both ends of these letters would be growing and changing. Laney wrote too, hesitant and hiding it behind smooth penmanship and precise phrasing, because though Aisling had given her daughter her blessing to leave it had been reluctant. Their mother’s letters came back less frequently, but through more official channels.

Sanders Grey didn’t enter into either of their orbits until they were given their group assignments for their second year project. Rupert they both knew of, stiff and straitlaced and slightly pompous, and Clem they both tended to avoid. Laney found him condescending, and frankly Liam just found him annoying - Liam found most Heroes and Combat specs annoying, really, because he kept comparing them to people like Robin, Rosie Red, and Jack. He generally managed to avoid them fairly easily. People tended to like Liam, and one advantage of being several years older was that no-one really wanted to mess with him beyond the odd taunt, even if he was just a Guide.

Rupert organised for them all to meet in a cheerful little cafe down in the part of Rivertown they wouldn’t have thought a blue-blooded hero like him would know about. Liam stole chips from Laney’s plate and eyed their companions a touch warily. Grey eyed him back over the top of his book, then turned a page and ignored everything else in favour of a history of ship manufacture in St John’s Port. Liam fought the temptation to push more food onto the kid’s plate while Rupert set a pitcher of lemonade carefully down on the table. Clem was well used to his roommate’s eccentricity and tapped the book gently with the hand he hadn’t been using to pick at his fish with.

“Hey, pipsqueak, time to work. C’mon, you can write a reading list for us and everything.” Grey sniffed and checked his book for any greasy marks, giving Clem a glare that the other boy cheerfully ignored. Liam flicked his eyebrows up, a touch intrigued. Rupert blinked, once, before his face returned to it’s default polite smile, and Liam felt oddly pleased that he hadn’t been the only one taken aback.

He told his family all of this, in the letter he sent home the next morning, and George scrawled her own add on to Bea’s long missive back - I still think you need to pay more attention to the Hammersfeld kid. He seems a little too good at fading into the furniture and doing paperwork, for someone who’s a wannabe Hero.

By the time Liam read it, Rupert had already startled both Liam and Laney by revealing that he took routine jaunts off into the city to do some freelance vigilante work, so all Liam could do was write back to say she’d been right, in delighted detail.

But that was after the fish shop had been attacked, and Liam had obediently slunk over to the far wall, the Elsewhere pressing round him, something cold curdling in his gut. Clem had been a combat spec, brave and foolish, and Liam had frantically recalled first aid lessons as he pretended he was harmless, pressing shaking hands onto Clem’s bleeding leg. Grey had gone still and cold when Clem went down, eyes wide and face smooth, and the part of Liam that wasn’t panicking because there were gunshots and blood and he wasn’t supposed to have to deal with this yet, was thinking who taught you you weren’t allowed to be afraid, kiddo? Who told you that you always have to hide?

Under cover of the chatter, Liam heard himself making plans the way he had held hissed conferences with George and Jack, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t with people who knew the price of keeping civilians safe. He heard Jack’s cadences slipping into his words as he planned, some, but more so as he sniped at their guards as he tied bandages with trembling hands.

Once Laney and Rupert had taken the thieves down, and Liam had taken advantage of the gold spilling from his sister’s wrists to slip a little of his own into the bricklayer who’d taken a shot to the gut, Grey had given Clem a long, slightly squeaky lecture all the way back to the Academy, hands waving and his chin shaking. Nurse eventually almost pushed him out of the infirmary so she could re-bandage the wound in peace, and he sulked back to his empty room to bury himself in a book and try to ignore the silence.

In his own room, Liam stared at the ceiling for a long while until someone rapped on the door, planning how to write this out for Bea and George. “It’s open, Lane.” There was a pause, and Rupert pushed it open instead, peering in to check he wasn’t about to trample on anyone’s prized possessions, looking vaguely apologetic that he wasn’t Laney and unsure whether he was equally welcome. Liam sat up, confused, and Rupert held up a bottle of disinfectant hand wash and clean cloths.

“I didn’t know if you had any, and…” he nodded at Liam’s hands, which he belatedly realised were still splattered reddish-brown. His fingers were trembling when he reached for the cloth and it fell to the floor. Rupert didn’t comment, just picked it up and helped Liam clean the blood from his hands.

Liam had stayed with Grey, Clem, and the bricklayer, on the blood splattered floor at Sally-Anne’s, but Laney had gone with Rupert to meet his friend who knew a few people. At breakfast the next morning she set her tray down next to Rupert’s with a sharp smile. Liam arrived after her, the letter he had written in place of sleep the night before posted and on its way north through careful, nameless hands, and ambled over to join them. Laney was all smiles and pointed words, and Liam blinked at them both. He didn’t pay much attention to the arrival of a Bureau inspector, because he was turning things over in the back of his head. He’d come to the Academy to find Laney, and perhaps to find something to keep him from leading people to their deaths. But he read George’s letters - Challenge, raids, shoring up villages for the winter - and felt he was killing time.

He leaned forwards and told Rupert he wanted in, too, smile wide and wild. Laney flicked him a warning glance, and he shrugged back. Liam had learnt to shoot at rabbits, sure - but he had never lifted a weapon in a fight. He’d never needed to, the Elsewhere practically begging for him to call on it.

(Even Rupert hadn’t been certain about that particular secret, just had his quiet suspicions and recollections of his mother’s descriptions of the ins and outs of desert social standings and status markers, so when the first flare of gold came from an unexpected Jones he twitched once in surprise, then set it aside to worry about later.)

Thorne called them all in, one by one, to peer over them and decide if they were worth collecting. Rupert was too bland, a cookie-cutter blue-blood hero, and Grey wrinkled his nose and talked at length about the way plants grew to different heights at different altitudes until he no longer felt watched. Laney smiled and nodded and kept her cards close to her chest, and Liam fought down the urge to shift guiltily in his seat.

The inspector peered over his golden spectacles and told him about the good things he’d heard, the reports of Liam snapping out a well-timed foot to knock a gunman’s aim awry and buy his sister time to fling gold at the hole in the wall. He dropped a casual mention about how the bricklayer had survived by the skin of his teeth into the conversation and watched the elder Jones’ face, and raised his brows when Liam shook his head when Thorne spoke about how he had so much untapped potential. “I just wanted to learn how to save people,” Liam muttered, relief tinging his voice soft.

On the long, lonely walk from the desert back to the mountains, the first time he left and came back, Liam had thought about the Leagues. By then he was old friends with the Rangers, inside jokes and careful omissions in their official reports. By then, they’d all sat around the bakery table while they poured over maps, and Sarge had chuckled and called them an unofficial league as he added Bureau intelligence to their notes.

When Jack and George slipped into the Graves’ basement in search of locked cells, years before, Liam had watched them with appraising eyes. George he’d pegged straight off as the strategist, a reluctant hero who just wanted peace, and Jack for the wild card tactician, who leapt without looking and always landed on his feet. They had made a good team, an unofficial hero and her right-hand combat spec.

Liam had gold spilling from his lips whenever he wanted (Elsewhere storms allowing) even if there was no purple on his sleeves, so he had supposed that made Bea their sage - knowledge, research, a network of whispers and plans.

So who had been their guide? Who was supposed to have made sure they all got out alive?

Clem was laid out for long enough that they had to cover his part of the assignment between the rest of them. Grey produced reams of notes and Liam drew on years of working with George and the Rangers to make commentary on the strategies used and ways they could have been improved on. Liam found he actually quite liked Grey, in a protective older brother sort of way. He supposed he was probably predisposed to want to look out for any mountain born child who’d managed to leave, even if they weren’t someone he remembered helping to smuggle away.

When Sez dropped a curse diagram in front of them, Laney and Liam scowled over it for the better part of an hour until Gloria peered over their shoulders and suggested they take it to Grey. “I mean, I’m good - Lane, you’re very good - but that scrawny kiddo knows something about everything. And we’ve been having some debates over Elsewhere theory lately and seriously? I think he knows more about it than the professor.” They collared Grey in the library, and he shuffled nervously, fingers trembling as he smoothed out the crayon-scrawled paper. It was the first of their little ventures he joined the three of them on, muttering about how they’d all get themselves killed and he’d have to do the whole project himself if he didn’t.

It was Liam who spotted him sneaking off the next day and followed, patient, to be trailed around the tenement housing surrounding what should have been a cut and dry old warehouse with a slight occupation of Things. He had a cold inkling what the kid was looking for, after the first house, because he’d been turning it over in the back of his mind too.

“You need to be more careful.” Grey hissed, while Liam met the mountain woman’s eye and saw the recognition dawn on her face. He didn’t stand out in Rivertown, dark skin and gold flicking from his fingertips only when he had no-one to hide from, but in the mountains the Piper had been anything but inconspicuous. He met her gaze over Grey’s head and silently pleaded with her not to let on.

She trembled, nervous, and shooed them away with a muttered thanks for the warning, fear a thick overtone to her voice that Liam guessed would never leave. It was only once they were back at the Academy that he realised he didn’t know her name. He had known the girl’s, briefly, but he had forgotten it - he had remembered the loss more than the victory, after they had returned her and sent the family on their way.

He lay awake for hours, that night, chills rolling down his spine. He was safe and warm, curled in a bedroll in a room far from the Graves family and their machines, but whenever he closed his eyes he was knelt on hard mountain ground, Jack sprawled out before him, the child numb with shock in his loose arms. In his mind, his hands were red as he fumbled for a pulse that wasn’t there, and George was telling him they had to leave. He slept badly, and woke cold.

Liam wasn’t one of the founders of the stable loft crew. In the mountains, he had learnt empathy, to keep an eye on his rescues and allies, to watch for hidden injuries and the kind of strain that was getting to be too much, but in Rivertown he closed his eyes again without realising. Bullies left him alone, and anyone with him, so it was a while before he realised that wasn’t the case for everyone.

Once he did, he guiltily stuck as close to Weeds as he could, and then Leaf when the first year arrived and started getting black eyes every week. George had tripped Liam several times a day until he learnt to roll not fall, and Jack had shown him a few tricks to doge a punch, but nothing Liam knew well enough to teach. He might have tried anyway, if Leaf hadn’t stopped showing up quite so bruised while still being hauled up for fighting on a regular basis.

Francis Uyeda had been watching, careful and considering, and had offered to teach Leaf a few tricks. Leaf mentioned it to Liam, when he asked, and Liam became Red’s second student. It turned out Liam knew more than he’d realised, and after some polishing Red started getting him to help instruct. Laney swallowed her pride and allowed herself to be a beginner at hand to hand defence, but dragged them all out to the shooting range to put them all to shame.

Several heroes and combat specs objected, but once his leg was mostly healed Clem showed up one evening with a complaining Grey. “This pipsqueak needs to learn to take a fall, and at least how to punch someone without breaking a thumb.” He glanced at Red and shrugged. “Uyeda, need another pair of hands to demo that staff drill over there?” When Clem dropped his tray down next to them at breakfast the next morning, Liam just shifted his own tray over while Laney gave a cordial nod. Gloria eyed Clem with suspicion, which rapidly turned into delighted interest when he started asking Grey something complicated about maths that no-one else understood.

They laughed, and learned, made in-jokes and sat together at meals, and Liam sat on the top of a ladder with his fingers twitching while his sister and their friends fought off the most irritated, offended combat specs and heroes. He wanted to leap down into the fray, but Red was taking advantage of the noise to murmur quiet, trusting explanations. Liam grinned at him, sharp, and forced himself to stay quiet. He promised himself that one day he would find a way to introduce the kid to the Merry Men; he thought that the boy from the Dread’s flotilla may have some common ground with that band of cheerful, dedicated protectors.

Red stayed out of the fight, but Liam dropped in to startle a hero who was getting a bit too close to a frankly terrified Grey. He took a hit to the eye (up in the loft, Red was murmuring duck, Jones - no, not you Laney - c’mon, you’ve got to remember to dodge and put a block up, otherwise it won’t matter how good we get your punches) but snapped out a low sweep that sent the hero to the ground. Grey slipped silently behind a pile of hay, trembling, fingers twitching, and stayed there when the others were rounded up. Liam very carefully did not glance in his hidden direction as they were rounded up for a scolding.

Heads was furious, disappointed, and confused. Thorne was quietly delighted and outwardly scolding, and called the Jones siblings aside for a quiet word after their friends were dismissed. Liam nodded along and listened, and let Laney do the talking, because Thorne was the kind of man Liam hated.

Laney disliked Thorne too, for many of the same reasons, but she could also use him, and she knew how to play this game with polished ease while Liam had never had to try. They wandered back to their rooms, both thinking. Liam had no intention of joining the Bureau; he was going to graduate and go home. Laney eyed him, and raised an eyebrow.

“After two years of this, you’re going to just disappear? I think think after two years of training you, they’re going to expect you to work for someone in the system.” His breath caught, and Laney shrugged, puzzled. “Maybe you’ll sign on with the Rangers. If you’re really determined that this was just some two-year learning experience, declare dramatically that you’ve decided it isn’t for you after a few months of real work. Fake an accident that knocks some sense into you - don’t you dare pretend to have died, though, I’m not going to dab my eyes at your memorial and use the past tense and pretend to mourn you.” Liam opened his mouth to reply, when Leaf barrelled around the corner bruised and grinning, to drag them both into Rivertown to celebrate.

(Grey slunk along with them, barely touched by the scuffle, overlooked and left out of the scolding, and wondered why he didn’t feel victorious. He felt guilty, and he hated it, because he’d just avoided getting hurt or into trouble, and it wouldn’t have made a difference to anyone if either of those had not been true. He read books defensively on the back of his eyes for the entire evening, grumpy and withdrawn, fingers twisting absently)

High on the fading adrenaline and lost the way he kept looking for old familiar faces in the stable loft crew, it took a moment for Liam to realise the trembling in his hands as he leaned on the wall, catching his breath after singing along with Leaf and his table of new friends, was something more - something worse - than just standard post fight-jitters. He swayed, stumbled, and fell.

They hauled him to Sez’s mother, her grumbling and her hissed admonishments over the lives he’d ended - he wanted to spit back and what about the humans? You’re listing all the stains you can see and accusing me of having chosen only the ones who weren’t like me to kill, but you can’t see even half of the lives I’ve ended. You can’t see any of the lives that I have saved. Sez squared her shoulders and said he only killed the monsters she sent him after, and Liam didn’t say that he’d been killing things that slunk through the night since long before then.

Rue grumbled and muttered and healed him anyway because her daughter asked, and Liam felt bile catching in his throat. He didn’t know of any hags with healing up their sleeves in the mountains, and there was a chill on the back of his neck. He knew of only one person who had both the reason and the funds to send a bespoke curse like this to kill him, and he couldn’t believe it would only have been sent for him. Georgie, be okay, please - be okay, be safe, please. I can’t lose you, too.

Bea wrote to him a tense week later, exhaustion heavy in the scrape of ink on paper. She didn’t tell him much - just that George had been ill, that they had visited some old friends and that she was recovering now. Liam smoothed trembling fingers over the paper, seeing George crumple and fall in his imagination. The Rangers came to the Academy, and Liam slipped in to see them without telling Laney.

He had told his sister a lot of things. He had told her about the Graves’ dungeons, cold and dark, about being broken out, and about how he had fallen in love with a baker. He told her stories about his daughter, about how he had lost a friend and realised he needed to rediscover his sister. He hadn’t told her about the Dragon Slayer, because he had wanted to talk about George instead, and Jack had been too sore a wound to speak of in more than passing. He hadn’t told her about the Piper, because he’d been trying to pretend he was someone else for a while, that he was just a desert boy who’d wandered far from home.

He hadn’t told her about the Rangers, because he trusted his sister, he did, but it would take only one slip of the tongue to raise suspicion, and his friends had been leaving him out of their paperwork and letting him skip out of their loose fingers for years. He slipped into their rooms after dark, hugged May and shook Sarge’s hand, and asked to go back North with them.

“I have to get home, Sarge. Georgie - she could have died, with the thing we both had, and I wouldn’t have been there. I need to go, see my wife, my daughter. I’m - I’ve gotten what I needed to, here.” Sarge frowned, and told him to wait. “You’re a few months off of your badge, Liam, from graduating and going official.” Liam scowled. “That wasn’t why I came here, Sarge. I came here to find my sister, and I came here to learn something. I don’t need a badge and some paperwork to still have all of that. I need to get home.”

He thought about knocking on Laney’s door, but didn’t. Instead he hesitated outside for fifteen minutes, shuffling his feet, having long arguments with her in his head, then went to his own room and wrote a careful letter while his roommate snored peacefully in the upper bunk. He wrote a letter and left it on his desk - he was sorry for leaving so soon, he wouldn’t be back, he’d love it if she came to visit sometime once she had graduated, and he would write as often as he could.

When she caught up with him in the quiet Rivertown streets, he thought for a moment she had already been to his room and found the letter waiting on his desk, had raced after him to snap and scold, chin lifted and not hiding from her disagreements because she was too proud to sneak off to the dunes to shout.

He squared himself for an argument, a fight, and it was so much worse because instead of furious she was hurt - at least, she was hurt first, and the fury boiled up and built on that foundation. If she had chased after him, he would have known she was hurt but he wouldn’t have seen that moment of shocked grief, dawning understanding, the way she flinched when she saw his pack and knew that he was leaving.

“I have to - I have to go back, Lane, I couldn’t live with myself if I was here and - I came here to see you again and I’ve seen you every day for almost two years, now, so I -” “So you’re done? I’ve had my share of your time - we’ve had our share of your time - and now you’re going to just dance off into the night for the next -”

The explosion was almost a relief, a welcome distraction and delay. They ran for the burning building, and it was as natural as breathing, now, the way they fell into step and grinned sharply at each other. The way she went wry and witty to hide her fear when he woke, bleary, in a locked cellar was familiar too - Jack had gone flippant when he was scared, and Liam felt oddly nostalgic with all the parts of him that weren’t furious that someone had made his baby sister afraid.

Laney bit her lip, then squared her shoulders and pushed him back towards their guard. “I need you to block me from his line of sight…and I think I need you to be further away than this.” Liam shifted, letting himself stumble glancing over his shoulder to check they weren’t being observed. “Lane, what are you -” She split the air behind her open, and it dragged at him, pulling him forwards. Laney slipped through into the rift, sealing it behind her before he could be pulled through after her.

He stared at the space she had been standing, and it was a relief when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and slammed him into the wall. He silently thanked Red for every word of tacit advice, and swept the other man’s feet from underneath him. The wards on the cellar itched at him, but they didn’t cut him off from the Elsewhere - just kept him from sending anything outside of it. Fire bloomed on his fingers, and he grinned as fiercely as Jack ever had.

Liam had never liked fighting, but now he thought he understood why people did. This was so much simpler, the way his ribs screamed under heavy kicks and his knuckles split and bled, then stung as Elsewhere gold trickled over his hands, than thinking about whether his baby sister was burning up on the other side of the universe’s skin, than the endless worry about his family in the distant mountains. This was so much cleaner than the heavy ache around his heart made up of every moment he had spent with Jack in his life, and every hollow moment since.

The door clicked open and reinforcements arrived. The world outside was aflame, and Liam remembered throwing Elsewhere fire at stone walls to break through them, feet slipping on rain-slick cobbles. They woke the Academy and Liam slipped into his old skin, or maybe had never left - he’d never been the planner, but he remembered marshaling forces at George’s side, discussing tactics with Rosie Red, Marian Hood, and Sarge. Heads thought that these were children not ready to face the trials of heroism, but Liam had been fighting monsters with vigilantes younger than these for years. They started back for Rivertown, and Clem dropped into place next to Grey. He met Liam’s glance with a scowl, and Liam shrugged at Rupert, who shrugged back. Grey muttered something about not needing babysitting, which they all cheerfully ignored.

Watching his little sister duck behind the firestorm that was their foe without him was one of the hardest things Liam had ever done, but he knew he would be nothing but a liability that close to a rift. The demon turned its eyes on Grey, first, and Liam was almost offended; he wasn’t used to not being the strongest mage in the room. Rupert went down, thrown through a wall, and Clem motioned at Liam to back up, shifting, forcing it to split its attention. The combat spec took a hit that threw him across the room to crumple to the floor as well, dazed, clutching at his arm. Even from a distance Liam could see the shattered bone poking out.

Liam couldn’t breathe, hands shaking, heart racing, but he clung to the sword that felt clunky in his hands, and he skipped backwards into a new room as it approached. It loomed over him, roaring, and he laughed, harsh and broken. “You think I’m afraid of you? I’ve weathered the fiercest sandstorms of the desert, been dragged into the Seeress’ dungeons and danced my way out, whistling as I went.” He ducked behind a table and rolled away as it exploded into splinters. “I’ve spoken with dragons, and I’ve got friends who are far more dangerous than you and your kin.” He braced his feet, charred sword held low, and whistled up a handful of sparks to distract, watching the gaping mouth come closer - “I’m the Pied Piper, and you don’t scare me.”

It should have been over, he thought as the possessed thief slunk in, shaking off bullets without noticing them, burning up from within. He’d killed the fire demon and Laney had sealed the rift and this wasn’t fair, this wasn’t - this wasn’t right, but then this was what he’d been telling Grey just moment’s before, wasn’t it? This wasn’t a child’s storybook, and good people died when they followed him into a fight because the world didn’t care about who was right or who was wrong. Liam had seen an avalanche, once, in the mountains, the great rumbling roar that shook in your bones, and now he felt it again as their pipsqueak sage split the world apart without trying.

Grey disappeared into the reopened rift like he was melting into thin air, fingers scrabbling at the edge before fading in swirls of gold. Liam could feel it pulling at him too, hungry, hollow - or maybe that was his heart in his chest, watching another friend fall, wondering if he would be able to get back up again, this time, remembering how young Jack had been when they met, how young he had been when he died. Liam was stuck to the wall like a fly in a spider web, and Laney couldn’t find Grey, couldn’t save him, but the world was filling with fire demons - Rupert took a shuddering breath and told her to close it. Laney lifted her shaking hands, and Clem plunged headlong into the rift as it sealed.

Clem had no cloak of golden luck, nothing to offer up in bargain, but he’d signed up to be a combat spec for a reason - here was something he couldn’t fight but he wasn’t going to let that stop him hauling Grey back home. He fell into golden fire, reaching for waving hands and an ink-stained nose, and he didn’t care what it cost him.

Liam was still reeling from the rift’s first pull when the world shook around them and Clem burst through, Grey clutched close. Halfway through untangling the bonds holding Liam to the wall Laney lunged for them, sealing the rift back up as it pulled in the last wisps of magic flitting around the room. Liam sagged down to the floor as the Elsewhere tugged at him, and wept because they were all going to make it home.

Thorne was waiting for them at the Academy, and Liam readied himself to fight and flee. Laney was smart; she could bat her eyes and pretend she hadn’t known a thing about what her brother had been up to when the news reached her, twist Thorne around her finger with ease, and Sez wasn’t the kind of person Thorne would be able to shakedown for information on where he may have gone, if he even thought of it.

Sarge was scowling, indignant, and Heads just had his forehead creased in puzzlement as he figured out what was going on, so he thought he could at least make it bloodless. A strong sticking spell and he could be away, out of the city in the chaos before anyone could get the bureaucrat free. And once he was in the mountains they could try all they liked; the Piper would lead them a merry dance. He braced himself, and Thorne smirked slyly as he poured all of Liam’s supposed secrets out into the shaking night air.

Heads stepped forwards, cleared his throat, and lied as easily as Laney did every day. Rupert scurried away to fabricate paperwork to say that L. Jones had been gainfully employed at the Academy for years before starting on the Guide course. Liam tried not to look too startled, or too gleeful.

Knocking on Laney’s door to see if she wanted to send a letter to the mountains along with his, Liam knew before he picked the lock. He had heard these sounds before; a quiet room, muffled movement. He knew the feeling twisting through his gut, and he knew the ice slipping down his spine - how could you have been so foolish. People were whispering about the Lady of the Lake reborn across the city, and you had to be a lot more subtle than whispers to avoid the notice of the Seeress and Spider. Gloria had been crying, frustration and fear, and he gently chafed her wrists as their friends streamed into the room, plans already circling in his mind.

When the pulse in the Elsewhere came he drew a circle and dragged Grey into it. Laney peered out, bedecked in the Elsewhere fires, and grinned at them knowingly. Liam wanted to tell her to come back, to forget it, but he had given years of his life to this fight already. He couldn’t keep her from it any more than Jack and George could’ve convinced him to head out of the mountains after they found him in the Graves’ keep. He swallowed. “I can already guess where they’re going.” Grey went still beside him, while Rupert just glanced their way. “Lane, I already know - I’ve been there.” She nodded, while Grey progressed to trembling. Liam dropped a comforting arm around the kid’s thin shoulders.

“Yeah. But I’m going to get more information this way, and I can get out whenever I want. Sorry, Liam, but I didn’t sign up for this so I could sit safe and sound in the family tent.” She closed the skin of the world up behind her, and Liam went to write a letter home.

For the entire journey into the mountains, Liam kept his badge pinned neatly to his chest. The closer to home they got the more he felt its weight tugging at him, but he was recognisable, here - he needed whatever help he could get to keep from being apprehended for being who he was, when he couldn’t travel quickly and quietly through empty paths. He rode alongside Rupert and watched Grey, waited with his anxious heartbeat in his ears for Laney’s evening visits, and tried to figure out whether he was still the Piper, or if he was just a League man now.

The Seeress had added new tricks to her repertoire since Liam had left. Laney slipped into camp to stay, and the mage slavers came trotting on her heels. Liam woke in the back of a covered cart, nauseous on the leftover drug and being dragged apart by the anti-mage wards pressing on him from all sides.

She came to see him first, in his cell, to dangle Jack in front of him like a bauble, to pour salt into every wound on him she could see -

(- of course he was an idealistic child, now, wasn’t he - did you ever try to convince him to leave while he could, Piper? Or did you tell yourself it wasn’t worth the effort -)

- she smirked, and let dark delight colour her voice as she prattled on about his sister, in another cell, her fragile bones and all of the little ways you could break a sharpshooter -

(- a sensitive, shame she wasn’t a mage, but I’m sure I’ll find a use for her…really, very irresponsible of you, Piper, to lead her here. She must be about the Giantkiller’s age, now - does she know that the people who decide you’re worth saving tend to wind up dead? No, of course not - you didn’t even trust her enough to tell her who you were -)

- and she smiled coldly as she pondered which them she should have drained first, him or his little friend -

(- on the one hand, I’ve been wanting to feed you into the machines for so long…but no, I think this would hurt you more, wouldn’t it? To sit here and know that I was having him burned up, that you wouldn’t even know when he was gone unless I deign to have you informed. I suppose I should thank you for bringing him to me so nicely, but I’m not particularly inclined to gratitude. Really, Piper, I thought you’d learnt not to bring anyone along to see me unless you wanted to see them dead -)

- and then he was alone except for the Elsewhere crack around his throat, waiting for someone to rescue him.

If he had been placing bets, Liam would have thought it would be Laney and Rupert who made it to his cell first; Laney wouldn’t dare to port directly in, not when he couldn’t ward himself safe, and she’d pick Rupert up that way first to pick the lock. But it was Grey who dissolved the door in a spray of molten gold, Liam’s pack slung over a shoulder (it had one of Grey’s books in, and a handful of folded pages that were the most precious of the letters and pictures Liam had been sent over the past two years). Laney and Rupert skidded round the corner, questions bubbling on their lips, and Liam found the grating he’d been led to the first time he escaped the Seeress’ dungeons.

The drop spots were where he remembered, and he took his second family home. Grey was skittish, watching him warily, thrown by having to reconcile that Liam and the Piper really were one and the same. Rupert was tired, lost without all of his careful preparations and redundancies. Laney was angry, but Liam felt rather like he deserved it. He had meant to tell her - someday. He had meant to tell her all of the details he’d left out of his tales someday, but he hadn’t thought about how she would feel when she realised he’d been risking life and limb daily for years, and that they would never have known if he fell.

George rolled her eyes and made slightly stiff jokes about bounties and badges, until they both relaxed into being themselves again, clicking back into place. Rupert’s reaction to discovering that the Dragon Slayer was one of Liam’s closest friends was a bright spot eclipsed only by the sheer relief at them all making it out unscathed, and the joy at seeing his wife and daughter again. Bidi had grown, and it hit him in the chest harder than he could have imagined, realising that he’d missed so many things that no-one would think to tell him. Laney was stiff, formal, and Liam ached with the realisation that even if she’d written to them, his sister still wasn’t really sure she belonged here, where half their stories revolved around a boy whose name Liam had never been able to bring himself to tell her.

His skin itched with the feeling that he didn’t quite belong here either, now. Bidi was so much taller, and the wrinkles around Bea’s eyes were deeper than they had been, and he had scars he hadn’t even thought to write to his wife about because the scuffles had been so insignificant. George was centred and breathing, and he kept expecting her to fracture, watching for the hollow listlessness she’d ghosted around the bakery with when she thought no one was there in the days after. There was a new shelf in the kitchen and a burn mark on a table, and sometime in the years he’d been gone one of his favourite mugs had fallen from the cupboard to shatter.

Sometime in the years he had been gone, Spider had become one of George’s informants.

(Sometime in the years he had been gone, Thorne had become one of Liam’s supporters, and wasn’t it strange how he didn’t trust the man a step but he still didn’t need to question it, that there was a chance and a plan and they could bring the Graves’ down - but then that had always been George’s role, cynic and ruthless pragmatist, while Liam always had to work at it to remember that not everyone was on his side.)

Nameless gunmen drew on them as they travelled, and Liam didn’t think. He didn’t need to think, George’s step at his back, another set of familiar boots at his other flank, the mountains peering down like old friends around him. “Sniper’s mine! Kiddo, on the left!” The world lit up gold at his fingertips as George struck low, and bullets rang off of the stone around them. He turned to ask when did you get a gun, Farris?, and the words died on his lips at Laney’s level, unimpressed look. George clutched her spear, stricken and hiding it, and he hated that he could turn her that pale without thinking.

“I know I’m your younger sibling, Liam, but somehow I don’t think I’m who you were thinking of, there.” She tucked her guns into their holsters and squared her shoulders. Liam rubbed his eyes. “I spent five years with two people I trusted at my back, Lane. Walking these roads with the Dragon Slayer at my side? Can’t blame me for having a moment of deja vu.” He motioned at her to search the bodies, sharing old jokes with George, tucking coins into his purse. Laney stared at him as though she knew him less than she had two years earlier. “You - this is so thoughtless to you, blood and - Liam, I’m not interested in being a replacement for your lost sidekick because you needed someone to look up to - the Seeress said people die around you. He died around you -” “And I left!”

Liam had been last, as they fled up the narrow gorge away from the shattered stonework. He had heard the shot and had hit the ground, but he’d been looking in front of him as he dropped. George had spent days at a time tripping Liam to teach him to roll, and Jack had cheerfully thrown himself at the ground in encouragement, demonstration, and sympathy alongside, every time. He would bounce back up to his feet, grinning, and offer a winded Liam an open palm.

Jack fell as though tripped, but he didn’t curl around it and spring back, laughing, reddish dust coating his back. He fell and Liam watched him hit the ground, red hair and redder blood, a child shaken and still in his arms. Liam pushed himself up and reached out, gold spooling around his fingers, desperate. The fire had swirled and swirled but refused to sink into Jack, and George had hauled him roughly to his feet and shoved the child into his arms.

Sometime after the town had faded from view and they had slowed to a walk, but before they had reached the next safe spot, Liam realised the child was splattered with red tinted mud, and had to throw up off the side of the path. He took a deep breath, then wiped the kid’s face with his sleeve as thunder rolled overhead. She whimpered, quiet and numb but still scared, and he didn’t bother pretending it was only rainwater rolling down his face.

George hadn’t let herself shake and shutdown until they had made it home, Bidi confused and tucked up in bed, and Bea weeping onto Liam’s shoulder. Liam had seen the moment George realised she had nothing left to be strong for - their rescues were safely on their way, the door was closed, and now they weren’t the Piper and the Dragon Slayer, vigilantes who had a job to do. In the warmth of home they were just Liam and George, and the aching space that used to be Jack.

We fill the sky with our mourning, Liam murmured at the funeral, and George had remembered ash ground into the palms of her hands.

Even though he knew exactly how little she cared for the Leagues, something still twisted in Liam’s gut when George walked away from Thorne’s conference. He couldn’t envision doing this without her; she and Jack had been the fight when he first met them, and George had never been one to walk away from unfinished things. He tracked her down to the walls, later, desperate and confused, and she was blinking back tears. He’d seen her cry so very rarely, in five years of work and blood and children weeping on their shoulders as they fled.

“I’m getting out, Liam. When this is done, I’m leaving my spear and going to the University. I can’t - I can’t do this anymore. You and Jack saved me, Liam, but that’s not fair to either of us. I couldn’t breathe when I met Jack, and I couldn’t breathe when you left, and I don’t - so I’m out. I’ll hold Challenge through this and you can take down the Graves’, and then I’m going.” She stared out, not looking at him, because she was on sentry duty and George had always done what she needed to, not what she wanted. He thought maybe he’d forgotten that about her - that Jack had jumped at the chance to help people (any people), and Liam had set out for an adventure and fallen into something bigger and darker than he could imagine, but George had only ever wanted to live.

Over the past year, Liam had figured out that Rupert was there because he felt he owed it to someone - everyone, maybe. That was a lie, though - Laney had figured it out, and had snapped it at him when Liam was being flippant, because Liam had never had to work for their mother’s approval or to make himself stand tall without it. Liam poured power into wounded civilians and startled Doc with his newfound knowledge of herblore, and wondered what Rupert had wanted.

George didn’t care for the Leagues but she cared for her friends, and she waved him on to the upper levels as she and Laney tackled the basement machines. Liam felt every step as he walked away, remembering watching Laney duck behind a fire spirit and wondering if he’d get as lucky this time. He tried not to think about who would hold him up if he had to bury either of his sisters, and thought instead about how surreal it was to walk alongside Spider as though they were allies, Grey slipping along ahead of them.

The Seeress’ cold gaze was almost refreshing in it’s simplicity. He expected nothing but cold disdain and hatred from her, and he got it - until her eyes widened and a name Liam didn’t know fell from her frozen lips. They ran, and Liam realised that the Seeress knew as well as he what it was to hold the most precious part of herself outside of her skin.

The mayor’s new weapon hit him with a tearing sensation in his gut, like an Elsewhere crack and an open rift combined. Liam crumpled to the floor, gasping, held awkwardly half aloft thanks to Spider’s handcuffs. He eyed the Seeress’ stiff shoulders and realised she hadn’t planned on that - she’d been planning on him escaping in the nick of time, a distraction or a disruption.

Grey was still shaken, his father staring at him with a mix of shock and love that made Liam feel sick. Or maybe that was just the realisation that Grey, the pipsqueak sage with the waving hands and the hidden power, wasn’t just a kid who’d gotten lucky and gotten away. Maybe it was the realisation that Grey’s beloved sister was Liam’s worst nightmare, that one’s saviour was the other’s villain. Maybe it was both, but it didn’t matter, because when Grey squared his thin, trembling shoulders and told his father he had to stop, Liam still shouted at him to stop, to flee, because it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter who Grey had been so long as he went on being.

Laney’s knotted magic blazed from the doorway as both Grey and Liam shrieked warnings, and she fell with a pained cry, pushing herself up to her knees as the Mayor turned a patch of floor next to Liam’s leg to charcoal. Grey pleaded and gasped, while Liam twisted out of the way and shook with pain that had left no marks. She pointed a gun that shook wildly into the glow that had fed off of all the power at their combined fingertips, and the Mayor chuckled, smug and certain. “You’re the Piper’s kin, aren’t you? Yes, Cassandra told me all about the sensitive, the soft-hearted Piper’s little right-hand gun. You won’t use that.” His sister’s jaw tensed, her eyes as cold as their mother’s when someone tried to cheat her.

“I’m not my brother,” said Laney, and fired into the cloud of gold until she had no bullets left.

When he had first left the deserts, Liam had found his way to St John’s Port. It had been the most water he’d ever seen in one place, and he had yelped at it’s chill around his bare feet. He’d looked up at the mountains and thought I’m going to go everywhere. He hadn’t planned to go back to the Port, but he’d traded solemn glances with Laney and held Bea’s hands as she explained that he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t go and fetch Rupert home.

Thorne had dropped some paperwork on his desk a few weeks in, when Liam had backed Laney up to tear down yet another slaver outpost, with a benign smile and gleaming glasses. Liam ran his fingers over the (unofficial) official pardon for the Pied Piper, all the signatures and seals that meant if his secret slipped out he could walk free. Laney convinced him to sweet talk extra copies from Thorne, and ported up to the mountains to leave one set with Bea, another at Challenge, a third hidden someplace only she knew (just in case). She didn’t tell Liam, but the fourth copy she tucked carefully into George’s pocket, because Laney had been far quicker than her brother to understand the difference between I can’t go back to who we were and I want to forget.

Liam and Laney were in and out of the mountains often enough to watch the seasons shift, and he grew used to the hiss and sting of the people who felt abandoned. Laney didn’t, because she’d watched him walk away once and felt rather as though no-one else had the right to hate him for it if she didn’t. Liam sat through it the way he hadn’t through combat specs’ ugly muttering at his age, his major, or through the Merry Men’s less than merry taunts and bile when he slipped back beneath their trees with a badge on his chest and his sister in tow. Laney pushed herself to her feet, sparks at her fingertips and fury on her tongue, but Bea didn’t even have to raise her voice. She slipped into the chair by Liam’s and rested her head on his shoulder, and ignored everyone who chose to comment on how long her husband had been away.

As much as Liam hated it, Thorne knew about his wife and child; the marriage records, and the Spider’s whispers through the years. But it meant that when they went to hunt down slavers, Laney was able to twist and tweak their plans to include visits to her sister-in-law, or at least stopovers long enough for the Baker to drop by to nag them both to get more sleep. Bidi scurried in her wake, playing with the ends of Laney’s hair and badgering her father for stories while her aunt smirked over her curly head.

Nowadays, the ghosts at Liam’s heels in the mountains were more than just a redhead with a knack for jumping into things big enough to swallow him whole. He expected wry sarcasm in his ear, but he was listening out for Grey’s snark as well. Jack was muttering herb-lore in the back of his head as he worked, but he looked up and was surprised when he didn’t see Rupert offering the injured civilian a drink of water and a clean shirt.

They were all seeing Rupert out of the corner of their eye, in their own ways. Laney wrote equipment lists and packed spare cereal bars. Grey hefted himself to his feet in the apartment he shared with Liam, in the shaking grip of a minor Elsewhere storm, and tried to feed himself. Liam looked at his hands and thought what more would Rupert do, here?

But they couldn’t find him - or, they found him and then forgot, heavy heads on emptied desks, doors they couldn’t remember opening, the margins of a building paced and measured, and suspicion gradually condensing into certainty. Liam had been almost certain for months, because the Seeress had smirked at him and he knew (he had always known) - if she had something that could hurt him, she would use it, and she’d been the villain for so long that he couldn’t imagine she was telling the truth when she said her father didn’t trust her.

Liam thought that was all he was missing, when he woke bleary and felt that there was a space in the back of his head that should be full. He ached, and thought that he was just feeling the weight of Rupert’s absence and the way they couldn’t seem to find their lost friend anywhere. Bea wrote that it was a cold winter, and he held her hand in their kitchen while Bidi taught Laney how to throw snowballs outside, and she talked into the shaking air about her sister and the way it was hitting her harder than usual, that year.

He rubbed circles on her back and talked about Jack, about how he was feeling that loss more keenly this month, too, how it came and went, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. They told stories to a wide eyed Bidi that night, about her father’s friends - the Giantkiller, the Merry Men, Rosie Red and Snow White. There was a half-eaten pack of saltwater taffy on his daughter’s shelf, and none of them could remember whether it had been Liam or Laney who sent it.

(The important thing, Bidi informed them solemnly, was that they had to send her more)

When he and Laney were caught spying on a below the radar local hub in their downtime, they still woke bound, but it was a precaution rather than a threat. Marian Hood peered at Liam with slight suspicion tinged with bemusement. She didn’t have to wait for him to recognise her to know who he was. The Piper had stood out like a sore thumb in the mountains, and he’d spent a summer in her woods. He had a few new scars and deeper bags under his eyes, but he hadn’t changed much in any way she could see other than the badge in his pocket.

Mari had hated the Giantkiller for years, with the hot, easy fury of a broken heart needing someone to blame. She had never liked Jack, much; he was too smiley for her tastes, too eager to throw himself into anything and never think about the consequences, too ready to leave his forest and his family behind on a whim. It had been the Giantkiller who stood, eyes wide and heart on his sleeve, asking Robin for his help.

Jack had asked, but Robin had gone. On good days, Mari remembered that - that one of the many things she had loved about Robin was his soft heart, that no matter how she loved him he had never been hers to cage. On good days, she remembered that Jack had just been a boy who believed in helping, that he had wept as Robin burned, and that he had also died too young.

On bad days she whispered ‘good riddance’, and believed she meant it.

Liam hadn’t asked for Robin’s help, but he had clapped him on the shoulder and grinned when he showed up. Mari didn’t blame him, because this was what she remembered: Liam curled beneath their sheltering trees in the grips of an Elsewhere storm, the softness of his eyes when he talked of Bea, the way his voice had cracked when he said goodbye in that still clearing. She had never known him when he was footloose and she had never thought about the way he had set out to find adventure far from home, once upon a time, and never written back. In the parlance of the Forest, she had thought he was one of the ones that built.

Now she stared at him, not sure if she was surprised more by the badge in his pocket or at seeing him away from the mountains, when she knew that the Baker was still holding court in her valleys and vales. She hissed at him about fleeing, abandoning Bea and Bidi, about dragging more children into the Giantkiller’s crusade to fill his hollow space. Ana Jones had been watching Laney’s fingers twist and was still surprised when she shot to her feet ahead of schedule, golden fire lighting up the room. A pipsqueak kid peered around at them all, and Ana wondered why she was watching him as though he was almost as much of a threat as the Jones siblings.

Liam was trembling, old wounds ripped raw, and Marian was pressing her lips thin. Curled awkwardly against the wall, shoulder stinging, Ana rather thought the woman was wishing that just once she’d kept her thoughts locked behind her teeth. Liam breathed out, aching, and shook his head.

“Jack was only ever trying to help people, Mari. He never asked people to do anything he wouldn’t do in a heartbeat, and neither am I. I left because I needed time and space and to learn how not to get people killed, and I left because I was shaking myself to pieces - and you don’t get to curse me for that, Marian, because you did the same.” He squared his shoulders and grinned. Even if they didn’t know it, everyone in the room but Grey had known him when his smile was so much brighter. “And Mari? Believe me, no-one drags my baby sister anywhere she doesn’t want to go.”

They’d never know what Marian would have said, because that was when Much burst in to tell them there were bigger problems at hand. In the frantic work at the sick houses, Grey and Liam both worn from feeding all the power they could call up in the time they had into Laney’s stores, Liam found himself handing out soothing teas and clean cloths alongside one of the lab techs he saw occasionally in the halls at work. Jill Chu murmured greetings, and soon after hunted him down to pass on a message from a missing friend.

They broke into the Bureau to find that Rupert had broken himself out. Ana listened to Miz Eliza Hammersfeld’s delighted observations and listened to herself taking notes in the back of her empty mind. Liam stumbled to a halt when he saw the Seeress, and Laney put herself between Grey and his sister.

Laney hadn’t told Liam that she’d been sent to fetch the Seeress, because he had been so tired and she wanted to give him space, the way they were letting Grey rest. He’d been fighting this so much longer than her, so she had decided to tidy up the last few loose ends on his behalf. Liam hadn’t told her about Sam Graves, because that was Grey’s secret to keep and Liam couldn’t exactly point fingers about hiding your past from your friends. The Seeress read it all in their faces, and smiled coldly. Grey squirmed, and Laney grabbed him by the shoulder to steer him safely out of the Bureau because she’d figured out who her family was long before, and the finer historical details didn’t particularly matter.

The curse struck him, and Liam fell through the window into his friends’ waiting arms. He drifted in and out of his surroundings all the way to Rivertown, Grey’s hand on his leg and Laney peering down at him, pale and furious. Sez slammed his sister into a wall, wept on Rupert’s resurrected shoulder, and for the second time in his life Liam hit the wooden floor of Sally-Anne’s thanks to one of the Seeress’ curses.

When Clem saw them in the Rivertown street, he cut his excited chatter with Gloria short, eyes dancing over them - Liam and Laney’s towering heights, the lack of a squeaky sage in their shadows, and his heart twisted. Grey had sent him regular letters of number theory, puzzles, and long rambling tangents every week from his desk in St John’s Port, but he’d missed that week. For a moment, Clem could think of only one reason that Laney and Liam would be standing in that street, bruised and bleeding, empty space where Liam’s leg should have been, without their sage in tow.

Leaf stumbled through an apology for Rupert, and the pair of them grinned sharp and cold. Red was well considered, Gloria was one of the smart ones - but Clem didn’t waste his time letting them tell him what they thought he was, just barged forwards and demanded to know if Grey was safe and well, too, before he’d even think about the rest of what they’d said.

When Sandry saw Clem, she flicked an eyebrow at her brother and smirked, a glance that said so you found yourself a bodyguard, smart boy, and it shattered on the unhidden warmth in his smile. Grey had found Clem difficult to work with as a League, his lack of fluency in snark and the way he’d always been able to rely on his strength, but they’d formed a strange, strong friendship in sleepless nights and debating mathematical theory. Clem had dragged Grey home with him for their second winter holiday at the Academy, to meet his beloved grandmother and do sums at her kitchen table instead of hiding out in the library on his own. The Seeress turned her eyes to her old hatreds instead. It was cleaner, somehow, the blood on their hands and the way every part of Liam itched to threaten, than watching all the parts of her brother’s life she no longer knew.

Throne tried to claim Rivertown, and Sez spat in his face. Liam ran shaking hands over his stump, and Laney ported herself and Rupert up to the mountains to leave their hero to babysit Bidi while Bea came through to hold her husband’s hand and scold him so fiercely for always getting himself into scrapes without her that Rue took an instant liking to her. Liam pressed his forehead to hers, and told her he’d leave if she asked him to, and she drew herself up, tall and cold, and he buried his face in her shoulder to hide his smile. She leaned on the back of his chair and dropped constructive criticisms and advice on their plans until it was time to go home and put Bidi to bed.

Liam sat on the end of a comm spell his sister had set up, and listened to the murmur of voices from over the city as he waited for one to spark up as it registered his name. He frowned in puzzled recognition at slightly squeaky voice coming from Clem’s end of things, marshaling kids in the Academy into organised groups to be safely sheltered, until he heard the name Farris drop from some unseen combat spec’s lips. He stared at the rippling golden wall, and recalled rows of faces crumpling as they were told their beanstalk wasn’t coming home. He remembered a spitfire kid who’d reminded him of Laney, some, but mostly was exactly how he’d have imagined a younger Jack. He wondered if the dry whisper in her pauses was the cousin who’d accepted a gift of new books with wide eyes and open palms.

He didn’t remember who had done the giving, or the speaking, until the blow came. The watchtower was wood and he hit it hard enough to bruise, breath pouring out of him in a gasp. He stumbled down the steps to bury scarred fingers in George’s short cropped hair, gasping, unhurt except for the way his elbow was stinging from catching on the table as he keeled over. George was gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline, and this hadn’t hurt. It had not been violent, no blood or broken bone, but then standing in the wreckage of her village hadn’t been violent either, and she’d carried that with her ever since.

When the phone went in Sally-Anne’s and Thorne dripped threats and blackmail, Laney shoved it into Liam’s hands and told him to stall for them. He sat on the other end of the line, the Seeress’ eyes cold on him, Grey’s wide and begged for the lives of his wife and child. Bidi was screaming, and Bea was snapping, and Liam was clutching the edge of the table so hard it hurt, because he was weeks away and all he could do was wait.

There was a dull roar, new screams, and the line cut out. He was still standing, staring, when Laney reappeared streaked with ash to tell him that the dragons had come when Bidi called. He would have given all the power in the world to be able to vanish through the rift with her without being devoured, but instead he begged Rue for work, because if he had idle hands he would do nothing but think of what he would have done if Laney had told him they had been too late.

Grey cried onto his shoulder, curled in the dark of the warehouse one night, because he’d so rarely been safe and his sister had never been. Liam stared into the dusty corners and swallowed down every part of him that wanted to say good, do you know what she’s done? She doesn’t deserve to be safe, because Grey was more important than his own hate. He tried to think what Rupert would do, then thought about Jack and how he thought that everyone was worth saving. So he pressed his chin to the top of Grey’s head, and let the kid cry himself out because the world wasn’t fair.

He thought about what Jack would do, when the Seeress had his own gun pointed at him, cheeks gilded in gold. Once, Liam had known a boy who thought everyone was worth saving. Jack had known the Seeress before she had perfected her masks, and Liam thought maybe Jack would have said that she deserved a chance to save herself. Liam hadn’t. The most honest thing the Seeress had said to him, in their five years of conflict, had been that her father didn’t trust her more than her use, and he hadn’t believed her. She hadn’t told him that she loved her brother more than herself, but he had seen it in the way her eyes widened and her breath caught. He thought about what he would have given, to protect Bidi just days before, and shook his head when she tried to hand the weapon back to him with a hand that trembled. “Keep it. It’s a dangerous world out there.”

They won, and they lost, and lost, and lost - Liam didn’t recognise even half of the names of the dead, but he saw them all go into the ground. He wrapped an arm around Laney’s shoulders and gripped George’s hand tight, the way Red was leaning heavily on Leaf’s shoulder and Heather was clutching Gloria, all of them holding each other up. He closed his eyes as Clem sunk into the ground, Grey trembling as he leaned into Rupert’s side, and tried to remember how to breathe. He was so very tired of burying children.

“We fill the sky with our mourning,” Laney murmured as they stumbled home under clear blue skies, and Grey asked with the desperation of a scholar seeking distraction what she meant.

Tessa Farris burst into their lives in the aftermath, her sage cousin shadowing her heels, and it burned - Liam had seen a Farris with a heart that big crash through doors before, a quiet, smart kid on his heels to watch for all of the dangers Jack wasn’t looking out for. Gloria taught Tessa a new trick while Red carefully ducked all of Laney’s pointed, laughing comments about oh, isn’t Tessa a girls name, mister Uyeda? and Liam and George traded entertained glances as they imagined how May was going to like this story, next time they all met to raise a glass to fallen friends.

Hansel cornered them the next evening, Tessa lurking behind him, to ask them for more stories about Jack. Liam had to press his hand over his eyes for a moment before he could speak, voice rough until he settled into his best storyteller’s spin. He had stayed one night at the Farris’ Rambly House, and that had been enough to tell them how Jack had fallen, how he had saved people - but he had five years of their kin locked in his heart, and Hansel was scribbling it all down in splatters of ink to send home. George wasn’t much of a storyteller, but she rested her head on the wall behind her, and threw reminders at him until his throat was hoarse.

Liam woke, weeks later, to a delighted shriek and sudden weight on his chest. He peered into his daughter’s wide eyes, and hefted her up to sit on his hip. Laney smirked at him over Bea’s shoulder as he walked to the doorway. “I thought it was about time I met my mother-in-law.” Bea smiled, eyes crinkling, and reached for him as Bidi squirmed to avoid getting crushed. Laney took her niece’s hand when Liam put her her down so that he could wrap his arms around his wife and feel her heartbeat against his, steady and sure.

#Leagues and Legends #L&L fic #Beanstalk #Echoes of a Giantkiller #Remember the Dust #Listen folks when I said I was having Jones sibling feelings I wasn't kidding #Liam lives but uh....#this was an experience to write #seriously no matter how tricky I thought it would be to pick out the key points to include it was 100% harder in reality #Happy RtD anniversary #and also happy Christmas to anyone celebrating it #Liam is a sweetheart #Laney is no one's blessing and is kinda done with everyone half the time #Rupert sighs a lot but you already knew that #Grey's ability to close his eyes on things he doesn't want to see is a superpower #George is George and therefore perfect at all time sorry I don't make the rules #Bea is stone and fire and Bidi shakes everyone down for sweets #my writing

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