#can’t two weird kids grow to lean on each other in this cruel world??

[nite-puff]

more young mondo n michi because them being childhood friends is so important to me.

bonus little ref thingy:

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Unlikely Lovers Chapter 9

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Thank you again for all the comments and likes for this series. @beccabarba​ and I adore Nick so much, and there is so much love he misses out on.

Warnings: Based on a scene in Mayan’s. Talks of SVU style case. female receiving. Nick being all cute and soft. Slight swearing.

WC: 1807

Enjoy x

When you transferred to SVU, you had been warned that some cases would get under your skin. This was nothing new, over in Cold Case you’d often been caught up in a fight for justice, often for victims many years gone. You’d been able to see wrong-doers who thought they’d got away with it, punished families finally given some peace. Even when you’d been back in uniform, you’d been known for both your tenacity and your compassion.

SVU was a whole new ball game though. To see victims struggling to prove a crime had even been committed in the first place, the pain of being disbelieved and gaslighted, the brutality of the defence counsel questions, the haunted look in some of the victim’s eyes as they attended a line up or looked through a photo array. The everyday cruelty you found yourself dealing with. And the child victims were even worse. Liv had told you, so had Fin, that it never really got better, no matter how many years you worked with these cases, but you found ways to deal with it. Usually by putting the perps away. Sometimes just by offering comfort and self-respect to the victims. You know Nick still found it hard, and he’d even said he didn’t think he wanted to work SVU for his whole career, because he never wanted to grow numb to these crimes, or get used to it. You’d had long talks with him about it, into the night, and he told you how worried he was as a father, knowing how cruel the world could be. You knew he worried especially about Zara, and he would grow angry when you talked about the gendered nature of much of the danger in the world.

So, when a case came in that involved a girl of Zara’s age, you were glad that Amanda and Fin took it. Soon, however, it became clear that the girl’s case was just the tip of the iceberg, and you were drawn into a lot of investigation, doing a lot of desk-based research and due diligence, while Amanda and Fin were interviewing suspects and witnesses. Nick was tied up in a court case, on Barba’s witness list as the detective who had heard a victim’s disclosure at Mercy hospital, but expecting a hard time from the defence. Defence attorneys loved to pick apart his record, his undercover indiscretion and his previous issues with anger. You’d asked him if he wanted you in court to watch, but he’d said he’d rather not. So, while Nick was distracted with prep with Barba – never his favourite activity – and feeling stressed about the trial, you were increasingly drawn into the case, helping Fin and Amanda.

Of course, the trial was only a few days. But you were still working on the case when Nick was all done – without too much pain – and ready to relax with you in the evenings again. It was way past dinner time when he came into the squad room with a takeout bag in his hand and put it down in front of you, right on top of the papers you were reading.

“Nick? What’s this?” You looked up at him, slightly irritated to be interrupted.

“It’s Lo Mein, egg rolls and Chinese broccoli. For two,” he said, simply, raising his eyebrows as if he was daring you to argue. “I know you’ve not eaten today.”

“Not true,” you protested, thinking back through the day.

“A dounut for breakfast and a power bar from the vending machine don’t count.” He shook his head in mock disapproval, unmoved by your frown. “Look, I get it. You can work all night if it’s what you need. But you’ve got to take breaks, baby, got to rest. And if you can’t look after yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

The tension in you softened and you gave him a tired smile. “You know, they say cops shouldn’t date each other, but you get it. It’s one of the things that makes this work so well, Nick. You don’t find it weird that I want to keep working.”

“No. But I’m going to make sure you’re fed.” He grinned. “Come on, let’s eat. Then you can decide if it’s time to take a break and come back to mine with me.”

“I think I’m too tired for what you’re thinking of…” you gave him a knowing look.

“I’m thinking of holding you in my arms and making sure you sleep.” He reached out a hand and stroked your head, giving you a little wink. “Now, do you want an egg roll? Before they go cold?”

You did go home with Nick that night, getting a few hours’ sleep before your phone rang at dawn, Amanda telling you they’d got a new lead. The development only led to more intense work: Cold Case had prepared you well for combing through records and documents, and Fin and Amanda really valued your attention to detail. All the time, you thought about the little girl who had started this case, who looked so much like Zara. The next night you slept in the break room, and the following night you crawled back to your own place for a few hours, apologising to Nick by text, promising to see him soon. You missed him, but you were preoccupied.

By the following day, Barba was certain there was enough evidence for an indictment and you were just tying up loose ends. But you wanted to be sure, since the perp was part of a criminal circle, that there was no one out there to carry on hurting more kids. You took some case files home, to read through and spot any discrepancies. You invited Nick to come back to yours, since you were missing him, and you’d managed to take your mind off the case for long enough to cook dinner with him – a tomato and pasta dish that was one of your specialities – and then Nick had gone to take a shower.

While he was in the shower, a sudden thought came to you about the timeline of one of the crimes, and you picked up one of the files to have another read through. Mindlessly, you went to slouch on your bed, legs bent up and file perched on them, eyes already on the details of the document. The smell of Nick’s eucalyptus and mint shower gel teased around the edges of your senses, but you were absorbed in the detail of your reading again.

You were suddenly aware of the bathroom door opening and closing, and Nick wandering slowly into the bedroom, dressed in just a towel. He stopped just inside the door, giving you a long look, heavy with intent.

“Nick?” you demanded, raising an eyebrow as he came closer. “Good shower?”

He ignored your question. Looking him up and down, his skin still damp from the shower, a white towel wrapped low around his hips, you felt the stirrings of arousal low in your body. “Whatcha reading?” he asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

“I was just checking something,” you said, shrugging.

“The case is nearly done, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you admitted.

“So, you have time to take a real break.”

“Yes,” you said softly. He was looking at you evenly. He took another step closer and reached for the file you were still holding, pulling it out of your hands and off your lap. You let him, watching as he closed it and put it on the bedside table.

“I think it’s my job to make sure you do,” he said in a low tone, turning back to you.

His eyes were intense on you. He took a step closer to the bed, his right hand going to lean on your pillow that you were leaning against and as he went to get onto the bed, Nick placed his hand on the inside of your right knee and pushed your legs wide apart, moving to settle between them. You took a deep breath to try and control the overwhelming arousal that was pulsing through you. You melted into the bed, sliding down slightly as Nick hovered above you and he licked his top lip before his lips crashed on yours, his tongue darting into your mouth, your hand on his pecs squeezing them slightly, as Nick rolled his towel covered hips into your covered core.

Mid kiss, you felt one of Nick’s hands slide up the side of your thigh, up your sleep shorts leg and run along the edge of your panties. You gasped into his mouth when you felt his fingers brush up along the edge of your lower lips. You broke the kiss, your jaw going slack and you moaned loud, pushing your hips into his fingers. Nick’s face didn’t soften, his brows still frowned, but his eyes soft and loving. Nick’s fingers plunged into you, two at first, thrusting them in and out of you, before he added a third, a welcome stretch, and you shivered when his thumb met your sensitive pearl.

Your hands came up to grab onto his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon indents on his beautiful tanned skin, and he slightly hissed from the sting,

“Nick-I…” you groaned, “I’m-“

Nick narrowed his eyes at you and thrusted his fingers into you harder and deeper, curling them up to hit your sweet spot and rubbing circles with his thumb. Your eyes fluttered shut as incoherent words left you and your body was covered in goosebumps, when you were pushed over the edge, wave after wave of hot arousal flooding all your senses. Your eyes fluttered open a little bit later, after you mostly settled your heavy breathing, meeting Nick’s face biting his bottom lip and a playful eyebrow raised. He didn’t take his eyes off yours as he pulled his fingers out of you after he sat back on his haunches.

You sat up quickly and grabbed his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, you reached over with your other hand pulling on the towel and it fell off from around his waist, his extremely hard, weeping cock standing to attention. You reached down with your free hand wrapping your hand around him, moving it up and down, and you brought his fingers to your lips, pushing them into your mouth, licking them clean while you jerked him off.

Nick’s head fell back, groans spilling from his mouth. You pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a pop, kissing the tips of them and then reaching down with that hand to cup Nick’s balls,

“Fuck, Y/N…”

Nick opened his eyes, and his hands came up to rest on your cheeks,

“You are so good to me Nick, always looking after me. Now let me look after you.”

Tags: @wanniiieeee @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @randofando-spoonie  @alwaysachorusgirl  @amorestevens  @harryssxnflwr @teamsladsandgents @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @skittle479 @bisexual-dreamer02 @glimmerglittergirl @witches-unruly-heart @berniesilvas @ben-c-group-therapy @elektriknachosss

[justfangirlthingies]

Talking to the Moon (Billy Hargrove)

Another songfic. This one is based on "Talking to the Moon" by Bruno Mars

Word count: 2049 words

Warnings: a swear word I think?, mentions of death, description of death, this is basically fueled by angst, sad, mental illness I guess (I think that's it), allusions to sex

I may or may not have made myself cry while writing this

"I know you're somewhere out there" you whispered as you were seated in your driveway, leaning against a car, long abandoned. His car.

Denial. That's what one could call your situation. Struck with grief and pain, yet still not recognizing it.

"Somewhere far away, but that's okay I'll find you or maybe you'll find me." A sad smile traced your lips as your eyes began to water. You gazed at the starry night sky, the moon, shining as bright as ever, illuminating your frame.

You couldn't accept it. And why would you? Just to have your world shutter to pieces before your feet? No thanks!

"I want you back,"

It never happened. Not as long as you refused to believe it. It just had to be some cruel joke. IT HAD TO BE!

Slowly flashes of memories invaded your thoughts and unfolded before your eyes. The way he sacrificed himself in order to save all of you. The way he was impaled from all directions by the beast and how his blood soaked the white tank top he had been wearing that evening. The way his limp body dropped to the floor. How he just laid there unconscious in a puddle of of his own blood. How they had to drag you and Max away from his body, but you wouldn't budge. "No Billy! BILLY! Come on! D-don't do this to me! You can't just leave me here like that!" In that moment you either wanted him to wake up or to just lie down and leave this place with him, but you couldn't do that to your family and friends. And to think that fateful day was your anniversary as well. You quickly pushed your thoughts and trauma to the back of your mind.

"I want you back Billy, please just come back home." Slowly the silent tears started escaping your eyes.

A hand pat your shoulder causing your features to flash with hope. Yet, it wasn't him. "Come on you gotta go back inside" It was just your little brother. The hopeful glimmer in your eyes vanished as you slowly got up. "I know... I know" You muttered and when you had made it to the front door you glanced at the old car again, wiping at your face to dry the tears.

"(Y/n) do you wanna watch a movie or maybe meet up with the gang? They miss you." Your face contorted to one of agony and you flinched at the mention of the kids and some of your friends. However, you quickly tried to mask it up and flashed your brother a smile "Sorry Dustin, those are your friends I'm just your babysitter. Have fun though." You ruffled his hair and just like that you left your little brother standing in the hallway as you made a beeline for your bedroom.

▪︎

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My neighbors think I'm crazy. But they don't understand

Whenever you left the house you got weird or pitiful looks thrown in your direction. It was no wonder you stopped leaving the house. And quite honestly, you were beginning to feel better. You felt better, not because you finally accepted the decision fate had made, but rather because you started to drift off. Reminiscing about the good times and creating your own little world in your head where everything was just fine. Or maybe you were just feeling numb by now...

"You're all I had, you're all I had and you're all I'd ever need" you mumbled to yourself and to the night sky.

At night, when the stars light up my room. I sit by myself. Talking to the moon

You often sat on your windowsill as you told him all that happened on each day. Sometimes you'd rant about your job. Other times you'd ask him questions and beg him to come back to you.

Trying to get to you. In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too

Could he even hear you? See you? Know you were trying to contact him somehow? If the upside down was real, then so was the chance he might be out there somewhere, right? It was a desparate last glimmer of hope you had left.

"Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon? Maybe I am..." Oh

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

I'm feeling like I'm famous, the talk of the town.

Of course you noticed the people watching you and talking about you behind your back. They say I've gone mad. Apparently they had nothing better to do than talk about you.

Yeah, I've gone mad. But they don't know what I know

One night when you were rambling into the night you heard his voice.

'Cause when the sun goes down, someone's talking back.

It was faint at first, but it got louder and steadier and sounded more like him.

Yeah, they're talking back, oh. At night, when the stars light up my room

And that was when hope returned to you. You left your room less and less, your family and friends growing more worried with each passing day. They barely got to see you.

I sit by myself. Talking to the moon

You didn't even notice how you neglected your needs.

Trying to get to you

You were too busy talking to him. Too busy to eat or sleep. To anxious that he'd be gone again if you left for too long.

In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too

Your family was at their wits end. They didn't know how they could help you. But you didn't think you needed help. You had Billy and that was all that mattered to you.

Or am I a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?

Slowly your brain had repressed the trauma, leaving it on the threshold between consciousness and unconsciousness. The images of the distressing and traumatizing memories only appearing in your sleep. In your nightmare plagued sleep.

Do you ever hear me calling? (Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah) Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh. 'Cause every night, I'm talking to the moon

They were just nightmares, nothing more. After all he was here. What did you need sleep for when you could be awake and talk to Billy

Still trying to get to you

You had gotten lost in your own fantasy. A different reality where your boyfriend was still alive. Where he was still his usual cocky, jealous overprotective, but loving self, the one you fell in love with.

In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too

Today was your anniversary. You dressed up nicely and left your room for the first time in forever. Describing your family as shocked when you left your room, went to grab a shopping basket and put on your shoes was an understatement. You flashed a bright smile at them when you saw them. "(Y/n)? What's got you in such a good mood? Are you going out?" Your mother was a little worried about your sudden change in demeanor, but quickly pushed those doubts aside. She was delighted at how happy you seemed. She didn't want to see in what bad shape you were, didn't want to notice how weird that smile looked on your exhausted posture or how that smile didn't actually reach your glassed over, dull (e/c) eyes. Eyes that shone bright with love, hope and life once. She didn't want to realize that you were just a shell of yourself.

What she did notice though, was the effort you put into looking nice today and that you actually wanted to leave your room and even the house.

"Yes mum, of course I'm in a good mood!" you exclaimed, you almost seemed like you were in some kind of trance. "It's our anniversary today. I'll go buy a few things to surprise Billy with his favourite dish for when he comes over later" and just like that you were out the door. Leaving your mother with confusion and worry written all over her face. Dustin had noticed the whole ordeal, however he did not choose to blatantly ignore your change in behaviour. "I have an idea, I know someone who might be able to help." Just like that your brother had left through the front door, sprinting to his friend's home.

▪︎

▪︎

▪︎

Or am I a fool, who sits alone,

You had spent your afternoon cooking and baking for your boyfriend. You prepared everything, now all you had to do was wait for him.

talking to the moon? Oh

A grin made itself prominent on your face as you thought about your favourite anniversary, the one three years ago. The weather was nice and Billy took you to the fun fair that just happened to be in town. He kept you close to him and would've punched anyone who laid their eyes on you for too long if you hadn't stopped him. "Don't worry, I'm only yours Hargrove" you beamed at him with delight in your eyes as you pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. After that he won you a stuffed animal and you got some cotton candy together.

"I love you, you know that right? I'll stay by your side forever you'll see. And I'll never leave you, like my asshole of a father left my mum, I promise. The two of us, we'll stay together for eternity" The blonde told you that evening when you were in bed, snuggled up cozily together after he had shown you just how much he loved you in every possible way. You moved your head which was resting on his naked chest slightly so you could properly look at him. His eyes held so much love, passion, adoration and tenderness for you in them and you knew yours did too "Forever huh?" you grinned as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. You could feel his fingers trace patterns on your back and arms as his strong arms pulled you impossibly closer to his body, the scent of his cologne engulfing you. "You better keep that promise then because I love you too." A cocky smirk appeared on his face and there was a short pause, a comfortable silence, as you pondered "Billy?" The boy hummed in response, his fingers still caressing your soft skin. "Can you promise to show me the beaches in Cali someday as well?" You felt your boyfriends chest vibrating as he chuckled softly "I think that I can manage (Y/n)" That's how you drifted off to sleep that night.

"(Y/n)..." a soft voice cautiously brought you back to your reality. "It's been three years." Your eyes were wide as you found yourself face to face with Maxine Mayfield, Billy's half-sister. He always acted like he hated it when someone called them siblings, when in reality he didn't mind at all. He loved his sister, he just had a special way of showing it. "What are you doing here? And what are you even talking about?" A smile was on your face. "As much as I love our silly little talks Max, I must advice you leave. Billy will come home any minute now and you know how he can get when he has plans and you appear out of nowhere." a giggle left your throat. As you spoke your eyes started swimming with tears. Why? You didn't know.

"(Y/n) listen to me. Billy died three years ago today, he's not gonna come to your anniversary. You just made up that he's still here with you because you couldn't handle his death. Not with how brutal it was." Tears were now pouring from your eyes as you shook your head. Realization dawning on you. "No...that-that's not true" you said, your voice cracking halfway. "Three-three years ago he took me to the funfair and-" you stopped mid sentence as the images from your nightmares unraveled before you. Max pulled you into her embrace and you hugged her back immediately, your whole body racking with sobs. The redhead also shed a few tears, not only because of her dead brother but also because of the state you were in. "I know, I know..." she soothed you

I know you're somewhere out there.

Somewhere far away...

[cadence-talle]

Rain Against A Window (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Eventual Biana Vacker/Sophie Foster

Wordcount: 1,955

Summary: In which Juline Dizznee finds a child, our scam team gets closer to Paris, and the city of Petersburg lights up. 

Other notes: This chapter was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess

Read it on ao3 or under the cut! 

St Petersburg, Russia. October 13, 1917. 

Juline stumbles out of the collapsing stables, letting go of the horse she’s holding. It gallops off through the streets and she groans; it’s never going to come back.

Not that it matters, really. No one’s going to have any need for horses now. 

She’s not sure how long it’s been since the first gunshots were fired. Six or seven hours, probably. Juline is just lucky she wasn’t caught in the crossfire and had enough time to get all the horses out. 

A small wail echoes across the crumbling land, and Juline’s head snaps up. She knows that sound; she’s been listening to a kid cry for going on five years now. 

Sure enough, there’s a girl sitting in the rubble, knees curled up to her chest and cheeks wet with tears. She looks about four or five; just a bit younger than Dex, if Juline is right. Her heart twists and she holds out a hand to the child. 

“Hey,” Juline says softly. “What happened to you?”

“I- I don’t know,” the girl says, teal eyes filling with tears again. Juline looks her over and something heavy drops in her gut- this is most definitely Princess Bianca. “I hit my head, and I feel sick, but I don’t know why.” She looks up at Juline. “Why?”

“There was an accident,” Juline says, taking the girl’s tiny hand in hers. “You must have gotten hurt.”

“Oh. Are you my mom?”

Juline blinks. Then blinks again. She’s almost positive that Queen Della is dead; there’s no one still alive to take care of this girl. 

Exhaling, she makes a decision. 

“No, sweetie. But I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” the girl says. “That sounds good.”

And so the Dizznees gain another child- Biana, she’s called. Juline worries sometimes that it’s too close to Bianca, but it was a name Bi herself chose and Juline isn’t cruel enough to take it away. 

Besides, who would look for the last remaining member of the Vacker family in the poorest parts of St Petersburg? These streets are cesspits, filled with violence and alcohol and…

Sickness. 

Juline isn’t dying, not yet. But she will be. She’s seen what this sickness can do, watched her own husband waste to nothing in front of her. And it’s only a matter of time- there’s no way they can afford the medicine. 

Still, as she sits in her bed and forces herself to open her eyes again, she’s comforted. Because Biana is still out there, still free, still alive. 

And no one can ever know. 

-/-

St Petersburg, Russia. February 27, 1927. 

“And then he just… let me go.” Fitz finishes. “I don’t know why. I was sure I was going to get arrested or something.”

“Huh.” Biana frowns, tapping the arm of her chair. “That’s weird. They’ve been cracking down on a lot of scam teams lately- throwing them in jail or worse. I’m glad you got out, but that’s weird.”

“What should we do?”

Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. Hiding somewhere else would be useless. We’re almost ready to leave. All Dex needs to do is forge our train passes and we’re good.” She turns behind her, to where Dex is furiously scribbling on a yellowed sheet of paper. “Speaking of which, are you heading down to the printer’s today?”

“Yeah.” Dex says, not looking up. Biana raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay then. I’m gonna go to the market, see if there’s any food on sale. Fitz, why don’t you go with Dex?”

“Me? Why would I-” Fitz starts. He’s not sure why he’s so opposed to that idea; Dex hasn’t been so much as rude to him since that very first day. Still, there’s something clenching his gut that makes him want to run. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. Not after yesterday.”

“Right,” Fitz nods. “Of course.”

Dex stands up, folding the letter he was writing into an envelope and putting a stamp in the corner. “Okay, let’s go. I want to mail this on the way there.”

“Have fun!” Biana calls as they step into the late-morning light. 

-/-

Dear Mom, 

How are you? How are the triplets? I hope it’s not too cold out there; I know Rex was trying to learn how to knit, but knowing him, that won’t go well.

Things are all right over here. Bi and I have food, and we think we found a way to make a lot of money. Maybe even enough to finally get you out of debt so we can all live together again. 

Petersburg is… tense, right now. Like everything is holding its breath in anticipation. There’s a rumor that Prince Fitzroy and Princess Bianca survived, so all the officers have been on high alert. We’re okay, though.

And we made a friend! He’s nice- kind of confused, but nice. And he’s super pretty 

(Please pretend I didn’t write that.)

I miss you. The city’s not the same without you here to fill up every small hideaway we get with laughter and music. Bi and I are trying, though. We’ll get through this.

See you soon. 

Love, Dex. 

-/-

“Okay,” Dex says as they exit the printer’s, a stack of paper clutched in one hand. The sky is beginning to darken, rays of pink and orange spreading across like paint on a canvas. Fitz is surprised it took so long; he’d always thought of printing as something fast and easy, but there are all these parts. And the travel passes aren’t even done- Dex still needs to forge the signatures on them. “We should get back. Biana will be-”

He trails off, looking at something over Fitz’s shoulder. Fitz spins around to see three uniformed men moving down the street toward them. He swallows and starts to back away. 

“Hey! You!” One of the men calls. “It’s almost curfew! What are you doing out?”

“Uh.” Fitz says. Dex grabs his arm and pulls him into the alley to the side of the building, hurrying them both up a fire escape. 

“Go, go, go,” he says through gritted teeth once they’re on the roof, running along the shingles with a grace Fitz is positive he can’t replicate. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”

They leap between houses and swing around water towers as the sun sets, lights in windows popping up like stars. Finally, Dex comes to a stop on top of a building on a particularly large hill. 

“I think we lost them,” he says, looking back at Fitz. “What?”

“I’ve never seen it this high up before,” Fitz whispers. From where they stand, the whole city’s spread out underneath them like a glittering map. Each lamp in each home is a shining jewel, calling to him. “It’s beautiful.”

Dex snorts, sitting near the edge of the roof and staring at the lights below. “Trust me, it’s a lot less pretty when you grow up down there.”

“I didn’t say pretty. I said beautiful.”

“Okay, your majesty, what’s the difference, then?”

“Pretty is surface level. It’s looking at someone and thinking ‘oh, they’re attractive.’ Beautiful is… more than that. It’s watching someone live and listening to them talk and seeing all their faults but still loving them. If something’s beautiful, that doesn’t mean it’s perfect- it’s just messed up in a beautiful way.”

“Oh.” Dex is quiet for a moment, the two looking at the city lights. Fitz feels an overwhelming urge to take back his words. 

“I don’t actually know the city very well,” he says. “I’ve lived here for a few years, but it’s mostly just… work, sleep, repeat. Nothing like-” he waves a hand at the scene in front of them- “nothing like this.”

Dex sighs, leaning back on his hands. “Petersburg is this odd mix of amazing and dangerous, and most things here walk that line very closely. So when you grow up on the streets…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s hard to make an honest living. And much, much easier to get drawn into things that aren’t exactly sanitary.” 

“That’s why you’re so good at forging stuff,” Fitz responds. “Right? And why Biana is so persuasive. You guys do this a lot.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Dex sighs. “Our mom never wanted us to be scammers. She used to work in the palace stables, but when the tsar was killed…” he mimes an explosion. “That whole line of business kind of blew up. She and Dad did their best, and we managed to stay afloat for a while, but-” he bites his lip. “When Dad died, Bi and I knew we had to do something. We had more siblings by that point- the triplets, they’re thirteen now. And Mom’s few jobs weren’t enough to keep us fed.”

“So you turned to stealing.”

Dex shrugs, kicking his heel against the brick of the building. “Stealing, scamming, anything that could get us food or money. We ran into trouble a few times, but we managed to slip away. The streets of Petersburg aren’t too bad if you have someone by your side.”

“Oh,” Fitz says. The words I’m sorry seem too small for this, too small for someone who’s been through so much hurt. “I guess I can see why you don’t think the city is beautiful, then.”

“No, actually, I think it is.” Dex turns to face Fitz, eyes fixed on the roof beneath them. “You said that beautiful doesn’t mean perfect, and Petersburg isn’t perfect- it’s dirty and messy and terrifying. But I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’m willing to take the bad for the good that I’ve gotten. The city gave me Biana, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” 

He looks up, straight into Fitz’s eyes. “And that’s love, isn’t it? Seeing all the cracks and loving it anyway. Understanding it anyway.”

Something about the way he’s talking makes it clear that he doesn’t just mean Petersburg. But Fitz doesn’t have time to think about that right now. 

“Yeah. That’s love.”

More lights appear in windows below them, glittering into existence. It’s a sign of life, of the people who hide in the shadows and laugh with their families. A sign of home. 

Unconsciously, Fitz pulls the music box out of his coat pocket. 

“What’s that?” Dex asks. Fitz hands it to him, and Dex wrinkles his nose. “Is this a Vacker relic? Where did you-” he fiddles with something inside, some piece of machinery, and music starts to play. “Whoa.”

Tinkling music drifts over the rooftop, a memory tugging in the back of Fitz’s mind; he should know this. He should know this. 

He does know this. 

Slowly, quietly, he starts to hum along as a scene takes shape in his mind. 

A smiling red-haired woman leaning over him, a tiny girl by his side. The very same music box in his lap, emitting a soft tune that Fitz knows by heart. 

“Once upon a December,” he sings quietly as the song ends. Dex gapes at him wordlessly, closing the music box with a silent click. 

“Fitz, what-”

Fitz meets his eyes. “We need to get to Paris.” 

-/-

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry the letter’s short today- I don’t have much time to write. 

We’re leaving the city soon, heading away. I won’t say where, for your safety and ours, but rest assured we’ll be as safe as possible. 

If all goes well, I’ll be home soon. We’ll all be together. 

I love you. 

Dex. 

P.S. I said, in my last letter, that my friend was pretty. That’s not true- or, it is, but he’s more than that. He’s beautiful.

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Ch. 6

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumours of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

A/N: Look who's back ;) I promise, I'm not dead, and I still very much want to keep the small TWT community going. Hopefully, my updates will be more consistent going forward.

P.S.: Thinking about starting a tag list for story updates. Let me know if you're interested/want to be added.

Read on AO3

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"In reviewing the tragic incident that occurred at Horae Manor last week, the Great Council has decided to revise the current requirements for acceptance. From this point forward, for the safety of 'lesser magic' users, Horae Manor will only be open to current Warp and Aether wizards and their potential successors. Our thoughts and condolences go out to the families of those affected by last week's events, and we hope this change will prevent such things going forward." - Excerpt of Great Council Decree 57 from the year 1908

"You can't be serious. He doesn't know anything!" Tessa exclaims, then suddenly remembers that I'm now standing right next to her. "No offense."

I bite my tongue. No point in arguing in front of Rowena and Cassius, they'd just punish us in some other way. Though forcing us to work together when we were clearly not on good terms seems cruel enough. I force myself to shrug like her little outburst doesn't sting at all.

She'd said that with no hesitation. So what if I didn't do my required reading? What good would knowing the history of magic do for me in a battle?

I briefly picture myself fighting a game show host who keeps shouting trivia questions at me. He demands to know who the first Warp Wizard was, and if I get the question wrong, his powers grow stronger. Three wrong answers and he can turn me into a mouse with the snap of his fingers or smite me with a single bolt of lighting.

I snap out of my daydream, hoping I haven't missed anything. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that could never happen. Knowledge wasn't one of the nine magics. Right?

Maybe one chapter wouldn't hurt…

"Tessa," Ro sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, "this is a partnership. Warp and Aether wizards rely on each other. Your magic cannot exist without the other half. Your independence is admirable, but from now on you two need to be working together every step of the way."

"I know that, but shouldn't you at least teach him some basic magic first? How to put up a shield or shoot some energy balls?" Tessa frowns and stares at the floor. "This is serious stuff. He could get hurt, or worse."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here." I cross my arms. Ready now more than ever to start this fight. Why is she acting as if she cares about me getting hurt? She certainly didn't seem to mind last summer in Paris or Cealus. The concerned expression on her face is almost enough to make me believe her, but after last year, I know better than that. What game is she playing here?

"We have spent the last year trying to come up with exercises for the two of you to learn how to cooperate. I had hoped that once we revealed the time decay, you would understand the brevity of the situation. Clearly not." Cas crosses his arms, giving me the impression of a disappointed father.

I remember from our conversation last summer that Cassius is married. Did he have kids too? And had he really spent the last year focusing on Tessa and me instead of his own family? We can't be that special. I wonder if his wife ever came to visit here at Horae. Where did Cas live anyway when he wasn't here? I doubt he'd answer any of my questions about his personal life, especially since he wouldn't answer any of my questions about magic.

"Okay, so maybe our teamwork needs a little improvement," I relent. "But how are we supposed to work on that if you make us fight each other?"

"You're not fighting each other." Rowena flicks her wrist towards us.

I blink. Without warning, Tessa and I are standing on the far side of the gym facing down our mentors. This gym really is bigger than I thought. Or at least, Rowena made it seem that way.

"You're fighting us."

My heart plummets into my stomach. This has to be some weird test. They won't make us fight them. They're professional wizards who had years of magic experience. They are literally the greatest time and space magic-users alive. We would never be able to beat them. I have no training and Tessa only has a year under her belt. She did pretty well against Rowena alone, but with Cassius fighting her too? This would be a disaster for us.

"You guys are really on it with the jokes tonight. But seriously, what's the plan?" Apparently, Tessa is just as stunned as I am, which does nothing for my hopes. We really would be getting crushed. So much for having a good start for the summer.

"We are serious. Don't worry, we'll take it easy on you." Warm purple light glows around Rowena.

"You don't necessarily have to beat us, just knock us out of the arena. As long as we see a decent showing of teamwork from the both of you, we'll consider that a win for you." Cassius' body begins to glow that signature time magic green. "And we won't end this until you do."

Is it my imagination or is the room shifting in size and shape? And why does everything feel like it's moving a lot slower now? Ro and Cas couldn't be using their magic like that already, they weren't even doing anything except standing there. Just how powerful were they?

How powerful could Tessa and I become?

The thought gives me a burst of excitement. This battle could actually be a great way to learn what I will be able to do someday. Maybe there's some way I can trick Cas into showing off all his moves and tricks.

"We're starting now? You're not even going to give us time to strategize?" Tessa holds her arms out in exasperation.

"You will have very few fights in your life where you will have time to strategize. Besides, you know nothing about each other's strengths and weaknesses or fighting styles. And you've only seen Ro fight, not me." Cas cracks his knuckles, the green mist slowly curling farther and farther up his arms.

Okay, so we're doing this.

I try to remember how I felt every time I used my magic before. My hands would always tingle and my chest would feel warm, but the only time I'd ever been able to do anything was in high-stress situations. Like if my life was in danger or the life of someone I care about. But Cas and Ro had already said they'd be going easy on us, so there's no real danger here.

I feel nothing. No tingle. No warmth.

Great, maybe my magic is broken. Which means I have to rely on Tessa during this. Even better. I inwardly roll my eyes. Is that why they were doing this? To build my trust in her by forcing me to lean on her during a fight?

"We can win this if we play it smart. But you need to listen to what I say." Tessa snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Why do you get to be in charge?" I cross my arms. Even if that is Cas and Ro's plan, that doesn't mean I have to follow it. I can prove to them that I know what I'm doing.

"Because I'm the only here with any experience."

"So? You don't know what I've been up to this past year. Maybe I've been practicing my magic non-stop."

"Have you?"

"Well-"

My world turns green as Cas blasts us with magic. "Not off to a good start, you two."

I cringe. I can hear the disappointment in his voice from here. I guess it won't hurt to at least try to cooperate with Tessa. As long as she doesn't betray me again. If Cas and Ro think we're so important that they're spending all their free time thinking about us, the least we can do is try to live up to their expectations.

"Fine. What's your plan?"

"I need you to distract them."

"Distract them how?"

Tessa runs a hand over her face. "I don't know! Just think of something, and fast."

Before I can even blink, she throws up a shield in front of us, blocking another attack from our mentors. I can't help but cough as the smoke clears around us.

"Magic combat lesson number one: move."

Tessa winces and waves the smoke away. "Cas is right. Standing still like this is a death sentence. We have to run or hide."

"There's nowhere to hide."

"So run."

Just like that, she bounces away, using the last remaining smoke as cover.

Okay, distract two super powerful wizards. I can do that.

How do I do that?

My mind races as my feet start to carry me away. I have to get them to focus on me so Tessa can do… what exactly is Tessa planning on doing? I try to find her, before realizing that that's probably not going to help her.

The room shakes, and suddenly I'm running into a wall I'm pretty sure wasn't there two seconds ago.

A stinging pain flares up above my eye. My hand reaches up and pulls away with blood smeared across my palm. Okay, apparently 'go easy on us' doesn't mean we won't get hurt. Noted.

"You need to pay attention. Especially when your opponent can manipulate the battlefield," Rowena calls out.

Well, at least I had their attention. Hopefully, Tessa can go do her thing now. I want this fight to be over with as soon as possible. Cas was right. I'm nowhere near ready for this. Magic only came to me on accident or when someone was in serious danger. Even if I could, there was no way I could focus enough right now to summon any amount of power.

I laughed. "I meant to do that."

Both Ro and Cas raised their brows at me. "Really?"

"Totally. We definitely have a plan, and we are definitely going through with it." Another nervous chuckle escaped my throat. If I can keep them talking to me, Tessa should be able to go through with her plan. I tried not to frown or show any irritation. Of course, it really would help if I knew her plan.

Our mentors' hands begin to glow. I gulp down a bubble of air. This isn't good, but I can't let them see me panic.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tessa scaling the wall towards the seats where Cas and I had been earlier. Wait, is her plan to escape and leave me here while I get attacked? My fists clench. I shouldn't be surprised. This was exactly the kind of behavior she had shown last summer. A list of crude insults runs through my mind. I shake them away. No time to think about that. I have to focus on what's happening right in front of me.

A familiar warmth built up in my chest. Was it magic? One way to find out.

I lift my hands and close my eyes. Just push it out. That's all I have to do. I take a deep breath, feeling the warmth swirl deeper within me. My fingertips tingle in anticipation.

Without warning, the room shakes again, and my body flings to the side. I just barely manage to stay on my feet, but the warmth in me is suddenly replaced with nausea.

My arms wrap around my stomach. I bend over and try not to vomit. Damn space magic.

I look up to see Ro and Cas looking confused, and I understand why. They're no longer near me where they were. Instead, they're a hundred feet away from me on the other side of the arena. Had it always been this big?

I try to find Tessa, but I can't see her anywhere. So she really did leave. Great.

Ro's eyes scan the edges of the arena and land on something in the far corner. Try as I might, I can't see what she sees.

Pointing at the corner, her fingers curl into a fist, and she pulls her arm into her side.

The corner flies in closer, but there's nothing there.

Rowena frowns. "What?"

I see a flash of movement off to my side, but don't dare look at it. Maybe Tessa didn't abandon me after all. But looking at her wouldn't help her. It would only reveal her location to our opponents.

Now, Ro and Cas are both frantically looking around the room, trying to locate Tessa. But they're not having any luck.

Our roles had reversed since the start of the fight. Tessa was now serving as the perfect distraction. Both Cas and Ro were completely focused on her, which gave me the opportunity to strike. And how could I not?

All I have to do is summon one burst of magic and push Cas and Ro out of the arena. No problem. Not at all.

I tried to bring back the warmth that I felt earlier. Surprisingly, it did. The heat and tingling flare back to life, making me shudder. An uncontrollable grin splits open my face. Maybe I am good at this magic thing after all.

The heat increases and my whole body feels electrified. Had it always felt this intense and painful? Whatever, me and my magic were ready to go.

My hands are already glowing by the time I pull them up. I can't contain my excitement. I'm doing it! I'm really using magic! Focusing everything I have on my hands, I point at Ro and Cas who are both conveniently placed near the edge of the arena. They must be so focused on Tessa, they don't even realize where they're standing.

I smirk. This is too perfect. I could feel my magic ready to burst. With one final breath, I let my magic loose just as a wall of purple appears in front of me.

And my world goes white.

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

My hearing returns first. A sharp ringing echoes in my head. As it slowly fades away, the sound of voices filters through.

"Do you know how difficult it's going to be to repair this gym?" The first voice is stern, angry.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know he would do that. I- I didn't want this to happen." The second voice sounds panicky and raspy. Had they been crying? "Why would you think that fight was a good idea? He could be dead!"

"He's not dead." A third voice, one very close to me, says. They didn't sound angry or panicked, just calm.

What's happening? I struggle to regain consciousness, my body fighting me the whole way. The last of the ringing in my ears disappears and all I can see is blurry lights. I hear a pained groan. Was that me?

"See? Not dead. A little battered, but that's to be expected." Something next to me stirs and moves away. "You didn't do anything wrong. We can repair the gym easily enough." A pause, and I think I hear someone huff. "Your shield didn't do this, Tessa. I think he depleted his magic when he blasted off there at the end."

Oh, right. The battle. My memory came back to me in a rush of bright images. Did Tessa and I cause some sort of explosion? That must be Cas talking now. Did he just say something about depleting my magic?

A bolt of alarm zips through me, pushing me back into consciousness. I shoot straight up, gasping for air.

Instantly, Ro, Cas, and Tessa gather around me, but I can't get my breathing under control enough to hear them. Deplete my magic? Like, all my magic? I couldn't feel any trace of the warmth from earlier. Did I just waste everything in one stupid fight? No, no, no! I never even got to do anything cool like stop time or warp without The Book. How could this have happened?

"Easy, Joe. Just breathe. You were knocked out for a few minutes, but everything is fine now." Cas's face fills my view and he puts my hand on his chest. "Breathe with me. In and out. In and out."

I match his breathing as best I can, and eventually the world comes back into focus. I manage to say a few words, "Is my magic gone forever?"

Cas's head jerks back in shock. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you said I depleted my magic." My chest constricts and my breathing picks up again.

He laughs with a shake of his head. "No, your magic is not gone. In fact, I would say your magic is a lot stronger than I expected it to be at this stage. But that stunt you pulled did expend all of your energy. You'll need to rest for a day, but you'll be fine. I promise."

"Stunt?" I took a moment to look at all three of them. Rowena was frowning, but not at me. Her focus was on Tessa, whose eyes were red and locked onto me. "What exactly did I do?"

"You nearly turned yourself into a bomb!" Tessa threw her arms in the air. "I told you to distract them, not attack them!"

"I did?" For the first time, I take in the scene around me. The gym is completely destroyed. Black scorch marks cover the floor all around us and smoke still hovers in the air. Part of the seating had collapsed. Even the ceiling had cracks branching out from where I had been standing before I blacked out. "Oh. Uh, sorry?" What were you supposed to say when you nearly blew up a building?

Cas suppresses a smile. "It's really not that bad. This place has survived a lot worse, trust me. But no more magical attacks like that, until we've got you trained. Okay?"

I mutely nod, not sure what else to do. To be honest, I don't think I could summon any magic now even if I wanted to. I've never felt so exhausted in my entire life. Everything in me ached, and it took a lot of effort just to sit upright.

"Did I really do this all by myself?" The damage in the gym is intense. And what about that flash of purple I saw right before I tried to shoot at Cas and Ro? My magic did feel a little uncontrolled at the end, but surely I'm not capable of this kind of destruction.

"No, but Tessa's force field blocked your magic from going out." Rowena crossed her arms, still clearly upset with Tessa. "It bounced off the shield and shot straight back into itself."

"But I didn't know he was going to do that! I didn't mean to hurt him." Tessa turns to me with wide eyes. "Please, believe me, Joe. Even if we're not exactly friends, I would never try to hurt you like that."

I want to snap back and tell her I don't believe her, but something in her eyes makes me stop. She looks on the verge of tears and has clearly cried at some point already. Why did she care if I got hurt? She'd made it clear that she didn't care about anyone but herself.

Instead of saying anything, I simply turn away and glare at the ground.

"I-" Tessa starts, but is quickly interrupted.

"Enough." Cas puts himself between everyone. Stopping any fights before they can start. "We all have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, and we can all use a good night's rest."

"What's happening for us tomorrow?" I ask. He had mentioned he and Ro had a council meeting tomorrow, but what were Tessa and I going to be doing? Were we going to sit in with them?

"We'll talk about that at breakfast," Ro said in a tone that implied if she told us now, we wouldn't sleep at all tonight. Great, so something not fun was happening tomorrow.

With help from Cas, I got to my feet, and after an awkward good night to everyone, I stumbled to my room. I was asleep before my head even hit my pillow.

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Where the Wind can Reach

Hello my lovely dearies!  I've had this in my drafts folder for a while.  I hope that you enjoy some cute Suna family fluff!

Summary:  Leaving Suna to be with Shikamaru wasn't an easy decision.  A quiet moment with her brother reminds Temari about what matters most.

*

** Where the Wind can Reach 

“Hey Tem, you ready?”

Temari turned to look at her brother who smiled brightly at her. Kankurou wasn’t often stunned speechless but this was one of those rare occasions. 

“Well ...who knew that you could clean up so nicely.”  He teased her not used to seeing her in fancy clothes and without a weapon.   She probably had one somewhere.  Seeing her in a sparkling white, elaborate kimono hit home that his big sister was getting married.  She was a vision of excitement and joy. 

“I hate you.”  The smile on her face took the bite away from the statement.  

“I know.”

“You look nice.”  Temari complimented him smoothing down his hair.  It reminded him of their younger days when she’d make sure that he was presentable before any meetings.   

“I don’t know why you insisted that I couldn’t wear my face paint.  I look like dad without it.”  He was genuinely surprised by the request and initially called her a bridezilla.  That earned him a few well deserved slaps to the face. Ultimately, he was smart enough to comply with her wishes. He was there bare-faced and it felt unsettling but there were very few things that she’d asked him to do for the wedding.

Her eyes were soft and contemplative.  “I know you do.  I think that for today, for this occasion.  It’s okay.”  He waited, staring at her confused. 

“I know it’s silly but it's kind of like both you and dad are giving me away.”

Kankuro had to bite back a sob.  He pulled her into a tight hug.  “Damn it Tem, making me cry is really going to mess up my reputation.”

She chuckled returning the hug, hiding her own tears. 

Temari knew that it was strange but there was a part of her that wished that her father was there.  Unlike her brothers, she had a few hazy memories of life before the jinchuriki. When her mother was alive and her father wasn’t a monster.  

Kankuro hated that he looked so much like the previous Kazekage. Seeing himself in the mirror oftentimes felt like a cruel reminder of his father and what he’d done. They’d all tried to work through the issues of their past but the scars remained. Regardless, if Temari wanted to feel like their father was there for her wedding, he’d happily do this for her. 

“To be clear.  I’m not giving you to Nara.  If anything you’re just on loan.  You sure you wanna go through with this?  I could make a big scene, hide you in one of my puppets, leave you in the desert where no one could find you.  It could be like a fun treasure hunt.”

She rolled her eyes, this wasn’t his first time he had some hair-brained idea to stop this wedding.  “You moron.  Shikamaru would find me.”  

Kankurou shrugged.  “He is as stubborn as you are, you’re probably right.  However, say the word and Gaara and I will start an international incident and bring you right back here.”

She began to worry the pendant on the necklace Shikamaru had given her the night before.  She’d been avoiding this conversation but it was now or never.  “Are you two going to be okay without me?”

“You’re talking about the Kazekage and his adviser, of course, we’re not going to be okay.  Being with the deer keeper is what you want so we will survive.”

She sighed before admitting her true feelings.   “I feel like I’m being selfish, leaving you and Gaara, moving to Konoha.”

Kankurou waved off her concerns, not surprised by the admission. “It is totally selfish and it is completely the right thing to do.  If we didn’t fight that war for you to be able to be with the person that you want, what was the point of all of it? You deserve whatever it is that will make you happy.  And Nara makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.  Nothing means more than that.”

She knew that she loved Shikamaru and wanted to be with him.  Still, it was hard not to worry about everyone else in her life.  This was never her dream.  She wanted to be helpful and acknowledged by her brothers.  Now, a happy life with Shikamaru was what she wanted. 

Kankurou could see the hesitation in her eyes.  His sister had always been selfless and loyal to the core.  If he or Garra made a fuss she would cast aside her own happiness for them.  He would never allow that to happen.  

He wrapped a comforting arm around her.  “Come on Tem.  It’s like you always warned me when we were kids.  There’s nowhere on Earth that the wind can’t reach.  Even when you’re in Konoha you’ll be here.  The work that you do will have far-reaching consequences here.  You’re still our Princess.” Temari leaned into his side, thankful for the reassuring words.  Her homeland and brothers would be okay.  She raised them well.  

“How’s everyone doing out there?”

“It’s a circus act.  Tons of dignitaries and important people from all the great nations.  Thanks for saving me from it. Garra is out there playing host. We could have probably sold tickets to this. It’s not every day that the Princess of Suna gets married.”

Initially, she and Shikamaru wanted a small wedding.  They very quickly discovered that was never an option.  Between their respective roles in their villages, the political ties, and familial ones this wedding was going to be an event. She hadn’t realized how many people were invested in their relationship.  It represented not only the bringing together of two families but two nations. Their marriage ushered in a new era.   Proof that peace had been achieved.

“How’s Shikamaru?”

Kankurou was ready with a snarky remark but just smiled reassuringly.  “He’s ready to be married to you.”

He’d check on the groom as one final chance to play the protective brother role. To his credit, Shikamaru hadn’t been intimidated. Whether it was because he knew Kankuro only wanted the best for his sister or that he knew Temari would be more than capable of taking care of him herself, they bonded. Kankuro may joke but he knew that his sister had found the best partner for her.  He recognized without a doubt that Shikamaru would love and protect his sister with all that he had.

“I’m ready to be married to him too.” They’d spent so much of their relationship apart, she was excited to finally wake up each day knowing that he was there. 

“Stop it, you’re being gross and romantic. It’s weird.” 

Temari rolled her eyes but was thankful that he could help calm her nerves.  “It’s my wedding, what do you expect?” 

He just chuckled giving her another affectionate hug.  

“I love you, big sister.”  For so long it had just been the two of them. Eventually, Garra completed their set.  The famed sand siblings against the world. Their lives were much different now. Filled with so many people that they loved and stood by their sides.  It was reassuring to know that at the core would always be the three of them.  They weren’t losing anything their family was just growing. 

“I love you too Kankuro.” 

Surprising them both another set of arms enclosed around them. 

“Garra?”  He just nodded and they held onto each other tightly.  Temari tried to subtly wipe away her tears.  How many times had she held them together just like this in less happy circumstances?  Now it was for something much different.  Her brothers were holding her together. 

‘Mother, father, I hope you can see how happy we are now.’ 

“Ready Temari?”  Garra asked while both of her brothers reached a hand out to her. 

Taking their hands in hers she nodded. “Yes.” 

*

**

Temari held onto her new husband tightly. Shikamaru danced so awkwardly but she refused to let them end the night without slow dancing.

She smiled feeling his warm lips kiss her forehead. 

“I love you wife.”

Wife...she was someone’s wife.  Not just anyone’s wife. She was Shikamaru’s wife. So much for marriage being a drag. 

“I love you too Shika.”

“Have you enjoyed everything?”  It had been a busy and emotional day but she was finally married to the love of her life.  For all that it was, it was perfect for them. 

“It’s been a lot but something I’ll always cherish. Can you believe that we’re actually married?”  She grinned, joy sparkling in her eyes. 

“Honestly, no.”  He chuckled and she couldn’t help but agree. They both probably would have remained single if they hadn’t met.  How their wants in life had changed. 

He placed a kiss against her palm.  His lips meeting the cool metal of her ring the outward symbol of his love for her.   “Still, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.  Thank you for marrying me.”  She nodded resting her head against his chest overwhelmed by emotion and relief.

“Are you okay?”  He knew all about her worries and anxieties about leaving home. There were moments that he was genuinely afraid that her love for Suna and her brothers would outweigh her need to be with him.  He’d asked her for so much.  For the rest of their days, he would prove that her decision was a wise one. 

She gazed out at the crowd.  The people that they loved the most in the world enjoying themselves, happy and carefree.  Kankuro was celebrating with the best of them and had a pretty intense drinking contest against Killer B.   He was now trying to convince Garra to let loose. 

“Come on Garra! Your sister just got married, you should dance!!!!” 

Temari just smiled to herself watching the scene play out.  Her heart felt at peace seeing them there happy and at ease. She knew that no matter where she was she carried her brothers with her. 

So she nodded settling back into her husband’s arms before reaching up to kiss him. They had all been through so much and could have lost everything time and again.  In the end, she had everything that she wanted.  

“Yes, I have you, we’ll be together. Everything is perfect.” 

*

**

This story was born from the headcannon that Kankurou wears face paint because he looks so much like his dad.  He hates it so the facepaint.  I have a special place in my heart for him being a middle child as well lol I love the Sand Siblings so much!!!!

Maybe one day I’ll actually write out ShikaTema’s wedding. 

Thanks again for reading!  Likes/Comments are never required but always appreciated! 

If you're interested I have a few smutty prompts that were shared with me that I can't wait to get my hands dirty with lol and I have a few other ideas jumping around but work is starting up again soon. :sigh:  I'll be back soon!  Till then take care of yourself and know that I love you!    

[writeyourownlifestory]

L I GH T S  U P

Chapters: 1/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time  Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @bi-gemini1983

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

One: Cruel To Be Kind: Nick Lowe

Oh I can't take another heartache Though you say you're my friend, I'm at my wit's end You say your love is bonafide, but that don't coincide With the things that you do And when I ask you to be nice, you say

You've gotta be cruel to be kind, in the right measure Cruel to be kind, it's a very good sign Cruel to be kind, means that I love you, baby (You've gotta be cruel) You gotta be cruel to be kind

Richie Tozier didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life.

That wasn’t a very unique statement but Richie wasn’t a very unique person. An average guy who was as blind as a bat, born in bumblefuck nowhere and eventually making it out of there and into the big wild city, making a living working at a big-name magazine.

Okay, the last part was pretty impressive, but he didn’t actually work very hard for that job.

He used to dream of writing comedy. Of telling jokes or writing for amazing shows like Saturday Night Life or something on Comedy Central. He wanted to be a comedian. To make people laugh. Sure, he is seen as the funny guy around the watering tank, but thats just because the rest of the people he worked with were a bunch of yuppies with impressive college degrees and no real personalities. They’re no better than the robots who work for Buzzfeed.

They had paperback covers and an app for people who didn’t want to go to the store to buy an actual copy. They had their own YouTube channel that hit millions of hits thanks to interviews and other shit that Richie took part in.

When Bill decided he wanted to make this into a real thing, he wanted it to make some sense. It wasn’t some balls to the ball insanity mag that people read for juicy gossip. It was real. The people who subscribed were real and the people featured in it were real.

Richie’s writing, not so much.

He mostly did puff pieces. Little things that didn’t take a lot of effort but were mostly filler in between the larger stories. It was something Bill had done for them after the magazine got big. You see, he and Bill had been buddies in college. Both young and naive about the world. Neither really knew what they wanted, but they had dreams and that was all that mattered back then.

It was Bill that had the real talent with writing and despite publishers being interested, he never took into account just how much time, effort, and money went into getting a book published. Richie, always believing in his best friend, decided to give him all the cash he had saved up for spring break so he would make the first move on getting his novel out.

He didn’t mind much as he found that he could eat, sleep, and drink on the couch the same way he could out on the beach.  

That novel ended up being a best seller and skyrocketed Bill’s career. Bill always remembered that, so when his second and third books became such a thrill, he decided to take the chance and create a magazine and brought Richie along for the ride.

It was easy work and he made good money for doing very little, but he found that was the main cause of his quarter-life crisis. He wanted so much more than he had been given that Richie was actually feeling guilty for wanting more.

He had done stand up in the city and even took an improv class, but nothing seemed to stick to him. Now he was over thirty and found himself in a rut. He lived alone in a small apartment filled with things he didn’t need but purchased because he thought they would bring out a sense of excitement.

He was single, though that was a whole nother issue as it took Richie an embarrassingly long time to come to terms with his own sexuality. Growing up in a small town where people were cruel and the world didn’t understand left marks on an impressionable kid. It wasn’t until he was halfway through college that he did anything with a guy and well-passed gradation that he realized that it was more than okay to be gay, it was normal.

So yeah, he was open and fine with it, but still lonely as hell. He had been with people in the past, but he found that he mostly just shut himself off from the world. He wasn’t happy about anything anymore and it seemed the only thing that got him by was that ending it all would have proved his teenage bullies right; that he was better off dead.

And if there was anything Richie wanted to live for, it was spite.

And also music.

Despite not being musically inclined at all, Richie loved music with all his heart. He spent a good portion of his time listening to records as a kid. He used to go around carrying a walkman and CD player and Zune throughout his life. He paid for the mom's gigs on his phone because he needed to have all his favorite songs ready to blast at the tap of a finger.

While they already had a guy that wrote specifically about music for the magazine, he had always been able to sweet talk Bill into allowing him to have a few moments to shine and write something about some artist. Those were the pieces that really mattered to him. The ones that gave Richie the chance to dive deep into the thing he loved.

Sure, he had written a whole expose on Street Fighter and perhaps he did make a big deal out of the Star Wars franchise, but it was the moments when Richie could reel back and listen before writing that got him going.

They rarely did full-length articles on performers as the magazine was something of a clusterfuck of topics. Bill Denbrough never wanted to settle on just one thing. Paper Boat was more than just one specific topic. It was everything and they would be damned if they ever settled on its something.

But of course, now and then something would come along and the whole team would be scrambling to put together a magazine dedicated to that one specific person. It wasn’t always a celebrity. Bill meant what he said when he wanted to keep the magazine aimed at the everyday people.

Their biggest seller to date had been when they put out issues all about Ben Hanscom the architect. Richie had no idea why anybody would want to read about the guy other than to enjoy the pictures that were taken of him, but low and behold, the world wanted to know.

As it turned out, Ben was a decent human being who just wanted to make the world a better place and he also happened to be extremely hot while doing it. Who knew that was possible!

The physical copies sold out everywhere and the website crashed thanks to all the promotions they did on it. Like, what the actual fuck?

Bill was that good at what he did and it also helped that he was writing his books on the side. He had people from all over coming through wanting to see what they could do and it only proved to be more impressive as time went on.

Now the magazine needed something new, something fresh and it seemed Bill had it all planned out.

“Here at Paper Boat, we don’t choose a good looking celebrity because we want to make money. You know, I’m not going to call up Jennifer Aniston and ask her to do me a favor -- I could, but I won’t -- because that isn’t what we do here.” Bill explained as they went over the board meeting for the next issue. “The people featured on our cover are interesting. People who want to bring the world together and make a change. Or maybe they’re just batshit insane and look good while doing it. Who knows.”

A small array of laughter came over the place. Richie leaned back in his chair, half paying attention. He knew how these things went. Bill made a big, exciting speech before revealing who or what they’d be focusing on. The assignments would be passed around and Richie would be given something soft and fun.

He got the dumb shit that got the people who didn’t want to read involved. Sometimes he’d do interviews while vlogging. They’d try food they never tried before or do something stupid. One of the most interesting had been when he got assigned to interview Kristen Wiig while bobbing for apples. Certainly interesting and the flow to the website was wonderful.

Richie was the writer they went to when they wanted it to seem kitsch and gimmicky. Enough for it to garner actual attention, but nothing worth anybody's time.

He tossed his stress ball up in the air, catching it as it followed the natural path and came back down. He got bored easily as meetings like this and he waited for Bill to just get on with it and assign everybody their respected jobs.

Bill hit a button on his computer, revealing a picture that Richie was all too familiar with. It was of a punk rock band that he had followed since he graduated from college. Trashmouth was one of the greatest bands that had ever come into Richie’s life. They were like if Queen and the Ramones were put together, had a baby, and then that baby had a baby with Green Day: that weirdly insane combination would be Trashmouth.

There were five members, but the main focus was and always had been the lead singer and guitarist Dr. K. Nobody knew why he went by that nor did he ever give an answer. Richie had googled him a couple of times, wanting to find out more, but the guy was a fucking mystery. It was like he just appeared on the scene, completely out of his mind with cut off sleeves and steller vocals.

It was safe to say Richie had a big gay crush on Dr. K.

And that was fine because Dr. K was just as gay.

He had never been seen with anybody, always choosing to keep his personal life private, but his songs were obvious enough even if most of them seemed pretty genderless. He had done one interview where the person asking the questions kept using the term ‘she’ or ‘her’ until finally, the guy replied that he writes songs about guys.

That took the world by fucking storm and Richie Tozier had never been the same.

“Some of you may be familiar with Trashmouth. Multiple Grammy noms and wins. Always in the top 40 listings despite repeatedly being told that punk rock was dead.”

“Please tell me we’re going to be featuring the band,” Mike, the music specialist for the magazine, piped up eagerly.

“I can’t because we won’t,” Bill replied. “Our focus is on him.” Bill hit another button and a solo picture of Dr. K popped up.

Richie’s mouth was watering and he sat up straight. He had the same picture in a small poster in his apartment. It was set up alongside some other pictures in what he called his “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Wall” because he was just that big of a fan. He looked at it often, always finding himself thankful for all the music that had been created and got him through some pretty dark days as a kid.

Did it also help that Dr. K was incredibly attractive and gave Richie a little bit of encouragement just by looking so good? Yes, yes it did.

“It seems Dr. K will be going off on his own. My sources tell me he’ll be putting out a solo album by the end of the year and I want to know everything about it. Mikey, that’s your job. Speak to whoever you have to to find out what is going to be on that album. Audra, speak to the rest of the band, find out how they feel about the ending of an era. Georgie, get your camera ready because we’re doing a photo shoot with him in three days.”

“Who is doing the main exposé?” Greta asked, popping her gum as she spoke.

Bill smirked, turning back to his computer. “I’ll pick someone later. For now, you’re all dismissed.”

The group got up from their chairs and left Bill’s office. All except for Richie, who was too fucking flabbergasted to do a damn thing. As Bill began to head out, he finally scrambled to his feet to follow him. His long legs led him there quickly, though he mostly sidestepped around his coworkers to finally reach their boss.

“Bill! Big Bill! Wait up.” He called, following him to the elevator.

“What's up, Rich? I’m about to head out for lunch.” Bill said, turning to face him. “You hungry? We could check out that new sandwich place that opened across the way.

“Oh, no. I’m time. Stuffed.” Richie patted his stomach lamely, offering a large smile to his friend and boss. “Hey! So, just checking in to see about that latest pitch.”

“Oh right,” Bill paused, hitting the elevator button. “You were a fan of that band, right? Oof. Sorry about the breakup buddy. Haven’t you seen them like six times?”

“It’s sixteen, but that’s not important right now.” Richie corrected. “Bill. Buddy. You have to listen to me.”

“You got it, Rich.”

“I know you only trust me with the puff pieces because I’m not as talented as Mike or even Greta, but I need you to trust me on this.”

“You can do the exposé, Rich.”

“I have gotten better over time and I swear, if you just give me the chance, I promise. I won’t do a single embarrassing voice or anything to get Paper Boat blacklisted.”

“I’m sure you’ll embarrass yourself in one way or another, but that’s your issue. You have two days.”

“Until what?”

“Until your interview with Dr. K,” Bill said, stepping into the elevator as the doors opened. “If you’d stopped rambling you would have heard me tell you that you’re going to be the one doing the expose. You’ll be meeting him in two days, so you better come up with some good questions.”

“Holy shit,” Richie muttered.

“Holy shit, indeed Tozier,” Bill smirked. “I know you’ve been in some sort of funk lately, so I hope that this will shake you up a bit. Better keep your fanboy boner under control.” Bill warned, smiling as the elevator doors closed between them.

Whether Richie realized it or not, Bill believed in him and his writing ability. He may not have the raw talent like himself, but he knew what Richie was capable of. He has a way with people that allowed them to loosen up and relax and nothing was better for a good interview than someone comfortable with the person asking the questions.

Bill couldn’t think of a single person who would be better for this specific project and having Richie be an uber-fan of the artist was just a bonus. If Richie made an ass of himself, that would be his problem, not the magazines.

Richie stood there, not knowing what to do next. He looked to his watch, realizing he had less than 72 hours to come up with a buttload of questions for his idol. He ran back to his cubby to brainstorm.

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

The Murder Academy 03

Read the first part of the series here

TMA 01     TMA 02

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

Y/n sat in the back of the ambulance. She had a nasty gash across her eyebrow. Her left arm was broken. They had stitched up her wound and stabilized her arm. They would have to take her into the hospital. Y/n knew her time was up. If they took her to the hospital, they would have to have her personal information. And once they had that she was sure that they would see that she was a missing person. 

“There’s no need to fucking take her!” Diego snarled. 

“Diego,” Y/n’s soft voice called out to him. 

“Sir, your girlfriend is hurt we need to take her in,” The paramedic said. 

“Excuse me, I’m a medically trained doctor. I can take care of her myself,” Pogo said pushing himself through the crowd. 

The paramedics eyed him up and down. They looked back to Y/n. 

“This is really your decision,” The second paramedic said.

His partner shot him a killer glare. 

“I’ll stay,” Y/n said as she began to scoot off the edge of the ambulance. 

Five and Diego both helped her up to her feet. Pogo pushed the two boys towards the house to keep Diego from snapping at the paramedics. Y/n leaned into Diego. She was tired and her whole body hurt. Five stayed close with them, brushing off their siblings as they lead Y/n down to the basement. 

Downstairs, Y/n sat on the table. Diego was pacing back and forth. Five leaned against the wall carefully watching his brother and Y/n. He could tell that there was something on the tip of Y/n’s tongue. She watched Diego with cautious eyes. 

“Y/n what’s on your mind?” Five asked. 

She looked at Five with a murderous glare. Five didn’t care. He wanted to help. If she knew something then she needs to be telling them.

“I don’t even know if it will amount to anything,” Y/n began. 

“What do you mean?” Diego asked stopping in his place. 

“Before I blacked out I swore I saw a familiar face looking over me,” Y/n explained. 

“Who did you see?” Five asked. 

“That’s the thing I shouldn’t have been able to see him,” Y/n said. 

“Y/n, who did you see?” Five repeated the question. 

Y/n gulped. “Leonard Peabody,”

“He’s dead,” Diego said coldly. 

Y/n only shook her head. Diego returned to pacing. Five was still watching her carefully. She was white as a ghost. The poor girl was terrified and Diego had blown her off. Five pushed off the wall to go and sit next to Y/n. 

“Y/n, you watched Leonard die,” Five reminded her. 

“I know. That’s why it doesn’t make sense. But when I was trying to blink through the darkening vision I saw him looking down at me,” Y/n explained. 

“Could there have been any way that he faked his death?” Five asked looking up to his brother. 

“I was the one to pull the trigger. He’s dead,” Diego coldly said. 

Five returned his attention to Y/n. “Okay, you were hurt. You were confused. Maybe you have a concussion and that made you hallucinate that Leonard was standing above you,” 

Y/n slowly nodded. “Maybe,” 

Pogo entered the room. Everyone fell silent. 

“Both of you out,” Pogo demanded. 

“But,” Diego and Five tried arguing. 

“Do not make me repeat myself,” Pogo said. 

Diego and Five hung their heads as they left the room. Neither of them bothered to shut the door. Pogo walked over to Y/n, but she was too busy trying to listen to what Diego and Five were arguing about. 

“Stop interfering,” Diego snapped. 

“Your girlfriend is scared shitless and saw someone who terrifies her and you blew her off,” Five snapped. 

“It’s not up to you to coddle her,” Diego growled. 

“Why would you just blow her off like that?” Five asked. 

“Because there’s no reason to scramble and look into anything when I know that Leonard Peabody is dead since I was the one to murder him,” Diego shot back. 

“Fine, you don’t have to scramble to look into it, but you could fucking reassure her that she’s safe here,” Five snarled. 

The pair fell silent. 

“What are you up to, Five?” Diego asked. 

“What are you talking about?” Five scoffed. 

“Ever since I’ve brought Y/n here you’ve been glued to her side. Any time I want some alone time with my girlfriend you magically show up, flutter your eyes at her, and she’s bringing you along with us. So, what’s your fucking deal with my girlfriend?” Diego spat. 

“Jesus, Diego, there’s nothing. I just like her company. It’s nice to spend time with someone who isn’t a fucking sibling,” Five roared. 

“If you have feelings for my girlfriend,” Diego started. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Five snarled before storming away. 

Diego followed suit and stormed off to his own room. Y/n sat on the table staring wide-eyed at the door. Pogo was carefully setting her arm to be placed in a cast. 

“Don’t let them get to you,” Pogo said. 

Y/n slowly looked over at him. 

“Those two have always been competitive with each other,” Pogo said. 

Y/n furrowed her brows. “I don’t know, it sounds more serious than a sibling quarrel,” 

Pogo shook his head. “The two of them have always fought over everything growing up,”

Y/n fell silent. Too many questions were at the tip of her tongue. Pogo worked in silence. A good hour later once Y/n’s arm was set and in a cast, Y/n slid off the table. Pogo kept himself busy cleaning up the mess as Y/n walked out into the hallway. She could hear Diego grunting and groaning in the training room. 

As Y/n moved to head down to the training room, she heard something. Stopping, Y/n could hear a familiar song playing softly. Y/n turned away from the training room and started following the sound of the song. 

Y/n stumbled upon Five’s room. She could see the record player in the corner. Five was sitting at his desk hunched over his computer. Y/n leaned against the door frame. Her cast was bright purple and stuck out in his darkroom. 

“Fur Elise is one of my top favorite classical songs,” Y/n said her voice breaking Five’s concentration.

Five looked up from his computer and over to his door. Y/n stood there, still battered, bruised, and bloody, but this time the purple cast stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“Do you enjoy Beethoven?” Five asked. 

“He makes it in as my top five composers,” Y/n answered. 

“I guess I never would have pegged you for classical music enthusiast,” Five said. 

“Could say the same about you,” Y/n replied. 

“How’s the arm?” Five asked changing the subject. 

“Sore. Fine. Pogo doesn’t think I’ll be in it for too long. He seems to know what he’s doing,” Y/n answered. 

“You can come in if you want. You don’t have to keep hanging around the door,” Five said with a teasing smile. 

Y/n laughed. She entered Five’s room and began looking around. 

“This isn’t my place, I mean if you can’t tell it still has a lot of things from my childhood,” Five said. 

Y/n ran her hand over what looked like to be a chunk of metal. 

“Ah, the first battery I ever created for my time machine,” Five said wistfully. 

Y/n threw him a smirk over her shoulder. She stopped at the dresser. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the old, rusted, and bloodied knife. She turned towards Five and pointed towards the knife. 

“And what kind of explanation goes with that?” Y/n asked him. 

“My first ever kill,” Five said coldly. 

Y/n looked down at the knife in her hand. The dried blood was flaking off. As her hand brushed over the handle of the knife the rust was rough against her skin. At the sound of Five standing up behind her, Y/n glanced over her shoulder. He walked over to her and grabbed the knife. Y/n watched him handle the knife carefully. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Y/n asked. 

Five dropped down on his childhood bed. 

“We’ve always been the weird family, ya know? I mean adoption isn’t weird and different, but what sane person adopts not one, but seven children all born on the same day?” Five began. 

“I didn’t know that you all were born on the same day,” Y/n said as she gently sat down next to him. 

“Yeah, our father made it like his life goal or something to adopt as many kids as possible that were born on the same day,” Five explained. 

“But why?” Y/n asked. 

Five shook his head. “I don’t know,”

“So you guys were bullied?” Y/n asked switching the subject back. 

“You could say that, but it wasn’t any kid at school that I killed,” Five sighed. 

Y/n watched him with careful eyes. 

“You see my father was a mean bastard. We were raised like little soldiers. He didn’t even bother naming us. He called us by numbers hence Five,” Five explained. 

“But Diego and your siblings all have names,” Y/n said in confusion. 

“Our mom gave us names when we were older. I was so mad at my dad and the world that I refused to go by the name my mother gave me. I’ve forever been Five,” He explained. 

“Diego never told me any of this,” Y/n whispered. 

“He wouldn’t. Still, to this day Diego holds a lot of anger and resentment towards our father,” Five said. 

Y/n finally looked back up at Five. 

“What did you do?” Y/n asked softly. 

“Vanya,” Five began he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “Has always been the smaller one. The weaker one. Our father was always the meanest to her. The things he said to her were just cruel,”

Y/n saw the way his hand was shaking. She reached across and took his hand into her own hand. He looked down at their connected hands and Y/n squeezed his hand in reassurance. 

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Y/n softly told him. 

Five squeezed her hand back. “He wouldn’t stop. Reginald Hargreeves took the pure joy out of tormenting his kids. He’d never stop. Anything he thought was insecurity or a flaw he’d pick and prod at it. Even if you never thought of it as a flaw or insecurity you would once father got done with you,” 

“Did you kill him?” Y/n asked him. 

Five nodded. “Something inside me snapped. It was after training. Father had already made Allison cry. She had run off with Luther hot on her heels. Ben had to drag Klaus out of the training room to keep our brother from attacking our father. Diego was hurt. Reginald had beat him as a punishment for talking back. Our mother had escorted him out to clean up his wounds,”

“It was just Vanya and myself. Vanya was slowly taking care of everything. Father was following her around berating her. Calling her all of these sorts of names. She was trying so hard not to cry. Then he started pushing her. Every time she tried picking something up he’d push her down. Vanya was never one to fight back. She took everything that our father gave her,”

“I sat there watching him. My blood was boiling. He just never stopped. He kept pushing. And poking. Calling her names. Telling her that she was weak, worthless and that he should have given her back to the orphanage years ago. I don’t even remember picking up the knife.”

“All I can remember is the adrenaline fueling me. Next thing I knew, I flew across the training room and then I was on top of our father. I was stabbing him repeatedly. Over and over again in the back. He had no time to fight back. The blackness overtook me. Vanya never made a sound. She didn’t try and stop me. She didn’t protest.”

“When the blackness had faded and I came back to myself I stood there over his dead body. And you know what? I never felt bad. I never felt a lick of remorse. Seeing my father lying there on the ground bleeding out I felt relieved.” Five told her. 

“What happened afterward?” Y/n asked him. 

“Mom and Pogo covered up his death. Vanya and I never spoke a word to our siblings about the truth. All of this time, Diego and the others believed that our father died from a heart attack,” Five said. 

“Five,” Y/n said stunned. 

“I know,” Five replied. 

“Then why tell me?” Y/n asked him. 

“You know I’m not even sure myself,” Five said with a laugh. 

“I hope you know your secret is safe with me,” Y/n said. 

“Oh, trust me, I know. You have made it clear that you can keep a secret,” Five said with a small smile. 

“Can I tell you something?” Y/n asked him. 

“Since I just spilled the beans to you I think that’s fair,” Five said. 

“Has Diego told you anything about me or my past?” Y/n asked. 

Five shook his head. 

“My parents were something else,” Y/n began. “My mom’s been in a mental hospital since I was thirteen and my dad drank himself to death,”

“Hey, I have one shitty parent so no judgment here,” Five said. 

Y/n only nodded. “I love your brother, Five. He’s been a blessing in disguise and obviously, I want to be with him since I threw my whole life away for him,”

“Why do I hear a but coming?” Five asked. 

He could feel her hand trembling in his. “There is a part of me that still fears him as I see my dad in him,”

Her voice was soft and gentle, but he could tell that she was scared. 

“Y/n, Diego won’t hurt you,” Five started. 

“He may not physically, but I have this horrible fear that he’s going to destroy me emotionally,” Y/n admitted. 

Before Five could reassure her Diego was storming into his room. He saw the two of them sitting at the end of Five’s bed. They were holding hands. Y/n had tears in her eyes. His eyes darkened as he landed on his brother. Five released Y/n’s hand and stood. 

“Diego,” Five began. 

“Diego, don’t, we were just talking,” Y/n said as she quickly stood up next to Five. 

“Holding hands?” Diego growled. 

“My hands were shaking she was just trying to comfort me,” Five said. 

“And why is she crying?” Diego snarled. 

“Because Five told me about his first kill. It was personal and heartbreaking,” Y/n said the lie rolling off her tongue.

“What did I tell you about spending time with her?” Diego asked. 

“She came to me,” Five said with a small smirk. 

Y/n was quick to step in between the brothers. 

“Listen, Diego, I love you, but you can’t stop me being friends with your siblings. I can be friends with Five. That’s all. Friends.” Y/n said.

“I trust you,” Diego started. 

“Don’t worry, dear Y/n, it’s me that he doesn’t trust,” Five said. 

Diego took a step towards Five, but Y/n was quick to put her hands on Diego’s chest. Diego noticed the way she winced. He looked down at her arm in the bright purple cast. He bent down to kiss her sore arm. 

“Let’s get you some food and in bed,” Diego said. 

Y/n only smiled and nodded. Diego turned away and dragged her with him. Y/n looked over her shoulder at Five. He gave her a nod to reassure her that he was okay. Once alone, Five fell back against his bed. 

“You’re an idiot,” A soft voice filled his room. 

“I know,” Five sighed and looked over at the doorway. 

Vanya stepped into the room and shut his bedroom door. 

“Five,” Vanya started off. 

“You don’t have to lecture me, Vanya. I know I’m being an idiot,” Five cut her off.

 “You told her our secret,” Vanya said. 

“I know,” Five replied.

 “Are you in love with her, Five?” Vanya asked. 

Five said nothing. 

“Five, you cannot go up against Diego for her,” Vanya pointed out. 

Still, Five remained silent. 

“Five, are you listening to me?” Vanya asked. 

“V, there’s just something about her,” Five began. 

“Whatever it is, keep reminding yourself that she’s off-limits and you do not need to go up against Diego,” Vanya said. 

Five let out a long sigh. 

“Vanya, she’s just everything I’ve been looking for,” Five admitted to his sister. 

“It doesn’t matter, Five. She’s with Diego. I know our brother is cold and can be quite heartless, but he loves her,” Vanya explained. 

Five pushed himself up into a sitting position. Vanya stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Don’t do this, Five,” Vanya added. 

“There’s something there between us V, I can feel it,” Five said. 

Vanya shook her head. 

“You’ll see. I’ll prove it to you. To her. To Diego. That I’m the better choice for her,” Five said. 

“Diego is going to kill you,” Vanya whispered. 

Five’s face hardened. “Not if I kill him first,”

Vanya threw her hands up in annoyance. “You can’t do this to our family,”

“What family? We haven’t been a family for a long time. The only reason we all went running when Diego asked for help was because we’re all too scared of what the consequences would be if we didn’t,” Five told her. 

Vanya ran a hand through her face. 

“Five, please don’t do this,” She begged. 

“Don’t worry little sister everything will be just fine,” Five grinned and Vanya couldn’t help but shake the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

Tagged: 

@i-alyssa

@hedwigmoss

@les-bio-lie

@ryans-mad-queen

@alysweets

@hyradun

@lollipopdomination

@awesometheydontknowiamhere

@buckyandstevegayornay

@anotherfanficreadingblog

@ampbian

@liveitdoll

@gerardwayslips

@snazzydoesthings

@gorgeourrific-nerd

@olkathefoxi

@umbrxlla-acxdemy

@soul-of-a-traveller

@harrisbn

@classyasssuperbitch

@misspygmypie

@officially-kendra-hargreeves

@rose-01

@carryon-doctor-lock

@ynm1505

@i-am-a-smol-sweet-potato

@klausbutgayer

@starkrobb

[scripted-dalliances]

Rest In Peace: Chapter Two

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 2

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

                                                 “Ut Vidi, Ut Perii”

                     “When I saw you, how I perished.” -Virgil, Eclogue VIII

Oh.

Laura doesn’t know what to say to that. She had presumed his reason was about her being dead. Of the possible rancid taste or scent of her…she had planned to tease it out of him but ultimately pop a mint before the big move. She had even expected it was due to him being awkward about Shadow being so near.

She did not expect this.

“Got a crush, asshole?”

Sweeney sniffs indignantly, “Fuck off, cunt.” Then later adds, “Maybe.”

She laughs at that, she really does.

“I am, in your constant -and loud- opinion, a dead bitch.” She leans up, placing her small hands on his chest for support as she does. Under her palms she feels his heart, quick paced but daunting with every assured beat. “I have kicked you through walls, nearly popped your balls from the sack and oh yeah, a walking corpse because you killed me but you still caught feels? You are one sick puppy.” The nickname slips out without too much thought, but honestly she isn't surprised that it pisses him off. Unlike Shadow, he doesn't take it like a cutesy nickname, unlike her ex-husband, he knows an insult when he hears one.

“Ain't no fucking puppy.”

Laura, still perched on him with all the grace and dignity of a queen on a throne, nods. “Yeah. No. Puppies are more enjoyable. You're more like a tick, one with like, the plague or some shit.”

“Oh, yeah keep whispering sweet nothings, dead wife.”

-and just like that, he is giving her that insufferable smirk, all teasing and delighted despite or maybe even because of her un-creative insult.

“I'd never thought I would have to kink shame a leprechaun, but here I am. Don't get a boner about me insulting you, weirdo.”

Mad Sweeney chuckles darkly to himself, all low and twisted, and if she was alive she thinks she might even like it. “Ain't your half assed insults, love. And I ain't a corpse fucker, as pretty and pleasant as you are with half your guts on display.”

Laura doesn’t even bother hiding her confusion. In her vast knowledge of the workings of men, their actions tended to really boil down to two things. Their dicks and pride, and everything else derived from those.

Even love. 

Shadow had loved her because of what he thought she was, what he could build for her (never mind that she was bored and borderline suicidal) and she had even enjoyed that to a point. Playing a role, hoping he would break it. Help her become someone better and new.

Just as she had hoped he could bring her back to life.

She is not unaware of the bitter irony that is her shitty afterlife.

“Then what is it?” She finds herself demanding. Curious despite him being an insufferable prick with a matching smile about it. Like it's cute that she can't imagine the reasons.

She can't. She has nothing to offer a man, she is dead. She was broken long before that. She has no warmth, no heart or softness; she never has, she has lied and tricked her way into people's affections. Like the gods of death painting and sewing her up to look like a real girl.

Truth was, she has only ever been this: a bitch, bored and cruel, who only ever felt anything when it hurt. Who did more in death than she ever did with life. Laura was empty and cold, even before they scooped out her insides and buried her six feet under.

“A girl cuts the head off an ancient and powerful god to save a boy, and that boy might get some ideas.”

Laura huffs in laughter and rolls off him. Joining the idiot on the floor, who looks over as she makes herself comfortable. Hands resting on her stomach, legs down and out. She feels her death more now than ever, in this position with the growing silence and stillness. So she breaks it.

"Don't get any ideas then, idiot."

"Oh, why not? Go about slayin' gods often do ya?" Sweeney counters, tone false and sweet as if he was flirting badly and knew it. She suddenly wants to twist his flesh between her fingers just to make him stop, but just as easily, she lets the urge slip out of her. She's growing tired of this. Of only feeling alive when she's tormenting him. Or when he's doing the same to her.

It's a toxic game, forged by two people who are broken in the same way. Like fucked up puzzle pieces that have lost their original shape and now only fit to each other and nothing else. They exchange barbs, crass truths and hard hands, and to anyone else it's impossible to stand. Anyone else, and they would hurt, and flinch away from that pain.

Sweeney and Laura are just two insufferable kids, pressing their thumbs into each others bruises to get that ache and reaction, because no one else wants to play that fucked up game.

For a second she feels alive, he gets his earned punishment, and in any other relationship this kink would only happen behind closed doors and probably involve a safe word or two. And a ball gag.

(Laura's brain supplies x-rated images of herself bent over his lap, his hand covering her whole ass, each smack hard enough to leave her pale flesh red with soon to be bruises, just as easily as she can picture herself in mile high heels walking across his back as he curses her out.)

She is well aware of their twisted natures, their shared broken edges and only kind of exhausted at pretending she isn't. He is her killer, she his victim, but it is not roles they fit or play well for long.

After all she 'stole his coin' and is holding it hostage until she gets what she wants. He calls her a cunt and she breaks his hand and then calls him a dickhead. Both of them are total assholes to each other, and so neither can stand too tall on the moral high ground for long.

Worst yet, neither of them are willing to walk away from this. Not without a fight.

He has tied himself to her just as much as she has to him. For better or worse, it's his hand she's got a fucking death grip on because like hell she's letting him go.

(She refuses to do this alone.)

But there's a price, with never letting go and it's paid in revelations.

At all times she is exposed, from her bitter mouth to her rancid guts. The worst of her is unwillingly on display, and he doesn't ignore it. He complains, pisses and moans and laughs at her but she does the same back.

How could she not?

This is without a doubt, his lowest. He is without luck, weak and hides not an ounce of how much that ruins him. Everything about him that would shine, is buried in her like a bullet and she isn’t giving it back any time soon. Just like her, he's missing a vital piece of himself and the world tears them asunder, for daring to be without it. Just as unrelenting and vicious as a hungry vulture would rotted meat.

How dare you be less than what you have always been. How dare you stand and be without faith or luck.

Better souls would forgive each other, learn and heal.  Better people would want to rid themselves of such poisonous actions and words, that got them screwed in the first place. To let death take her, to ask for forgiveness, to let go of the past.

-but that's not who they are.

As much as she hates to admit it, they are matching pair in that regard.  

They will never forgive, they will never fully recover and they don't want to.

They would rather let this pain become gangrenous, let it twist and boil, let it dig in like a parasite and replace the pieces of themselves they've lost. It's this pain that fuels them, to push on and keep going because fuck the world, fuck the blood they've unwillingly spilled to earn their place in it. 

They will not bend just for the spite and salt of it.

She wants her life back, but she doesn't want to do it with false promises. She doesn't want to be tricked and conned into some life long affair of faith, to surrender herself, heart or soul. She doesn’t want to sacrifice some other innocent idiot, or shove some different magical relic into herself in hopes no one down the line wants it back. Laura wants what is her's. Nothing more, nothing less.  

-and she isn't stupid. She knows she only got this chance because of a magical coin accidentally given to her by a man who didn't want her back. That without it, she'd be nothing but road kill…

The image of the ice cream truck, on it's side. Window busted through and how she awoke on warm pavement with Sweeney above her flashes through her mind.

Holy shit

"You gave me the coin back."

Sweeney doesn't answer, and she continues. Tilting her head just enough to catch his expression. Haunted hazel eyes that are glued to the ceiling like it holds the lucky lotto numbers.

"When the truck flipped, and I went through the front. I was a mess, like...splat." Laura uses hand gestures to further her point, "-and I remember that, but not hitting the ground. Which wouldn't be weird, if I wasn't already not alive, and it's not like I got brain damage or something. So. From my perspective, I crash, I tumble out and then blank. Come to your ugly face above mine touching my tits."

"I did not touch your tits!"

She smirks, "Bet you wanted to."

"Fuck off."

"It's okay to admit it. I mean, I've got a decent rack, right?" Dead or not, she did.

"For the last bloody time, I did not even look!"

"Ah, but you did put that coin back, didn't you?" Silence again is the answer she's looking for, because he's never silent unless she's right. "So. You gave me a second...maybe third chance I didn't deserve and still tried to get Ostara to help me.”

Sweeney grunts in response. He is mad, she can tell, that she has figured this out. His dirty little secret.

“Then, for whatever reasons I haven't figured out just yet, totally stepped up to Odin to defend me...for like half a second before he kicked your ass, but I'm choosing to ignore that bit." Laura positions herself onto her side, “I’m starting to think you liked me before I slayed a god to save your skinny ass.”

He still refuses to even look at her so she takes her time looking at him instead.

There hasn't been much want to check him out, in the start of their adventure. All she knew was from what she noticed first. That he was tall -stupidly so- and ginger. With a smart mouth that pissed her off and hands that could wrap around her throat.

Now, she adds that he's also got freckles everywhere (and she wants to count them, connect them…probably into a shape of a dick), a wide chest with matching shoulders, that probably makes other women swoon with lust. That he weirdly smells like cloves and the best kind of beer -despite knowing that he hasn't showered in days- all with a jaw line that makes her want to trace with her fingertips because it looks sharp enough to cut her.

Everything about him seems like an exaggeration of a man; his height, his build and his hair. Large and not in charge, but that's only when he opens his mouth and then it becomes pretty obvious under all the flash and very nicely built body, is a rotten fucking attitude. Just like her.

Laura smirks to herself, aiming to poke a bruise she knows is a mile wide. This is who she is after all. "What is it really. Guilt because you killed me? Need someone to spank you, while you confess your sins and tug one out?"

Sweeney's expression hardens, and his lips form a mulish pout. "Ain't that."

"–because I'm well aware that it wasn't you. I mean it was. But I'm gonna go and firmly place the blame on Odin. Hey, speaking of, do gods have a hell? Like for themselves?"

He sighs, "No, cause if there was, it be here. Listening to you go on."

"Don't make me kick you in the balls.”

He gives her a manly snort in reply, one that seemingly comes from deep within his chest as he sits up and fishes out a crumpled up cigarette packet from his pocket.

He offers one to her, more out of habit than anything, that she takes and lights with her lighter (that she stole from him) and hands it over. Watching as he mirrors her actions, and slips the stolen piece back in his pocket.

She is mentally making plans to steal it back when he starts talking again.

“Its not guilt. Not really. Not what…what I think it means to your lot.”

“And the giving me the coin back part?”

He inhales and exhales. Buying a bit of time.

“Part of it, I suppose, but ain't all of it.”

Laura rolls her eyes, “Way to explain fuck all, Gingerbread.”

Quick as wild fire, he becomes furious. Suddenly standing and glaring down at her like he wants to burn her down to ash with just his eyes and nothing else. It’s powerful and violent enough of a reaction that even she takes pause.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? My life ain't some easy by the by poem you read on the back of a bleedin' cereal box. I was a king. I was a bird, and a mad man. I was all of these things and more, but saying them to you, do they have any meaning to them? Do you understand or even believe them? No.” He sneers, and she frowns deeply. Thinking about her reaction in the ice cream truck and knowing he's right.

Hating that she can't defend herself.

“Just as reading all these damned books is fuckin’ useless. You could read them all but it doesn't make a lick of difference to your state of being. You have a limited scope of understanding. By nature of what and who you are. Even dead and crawling out of your own grave hasn't changed that. You'll feel no heart beat from me like your lover boy, kiss or no kiss, Laura Moon. So don't even bother trying to test ya little half baked theory.”

He has called her cunt and bitch a thousand times over, but never before has he insulted her to this level.  With so much truth and venom. Never has it been so painful to hear. Laura likes to pretend she isn't affected, but she is.

For a long, drawn out moment they merely look at each other, poised at the edge of some great cavern of suffering. His. The one that is fathoms deep with age and unknown truths that as he so rightly stated, she can not understand. It seemingly grows wider in their combined silence.

Slowly, the massive angry fire in his hazel eyes fades and he turns his back. Stalking from the room, from her without another word.

Laura remains, lost in thought.

>

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Letters to No One: 6/6

Summary: Lucretia writes letters that she can never send over the years. 

Final chapter! Wow this ended up being longer than I expected.

For Taako, we're mixing things up a bit, but I hope you guys still enjoy! Thanks for reading, and double thanks to everyone who's taken the time to leave a comment while I've been writing this! <3

Beginning

Previous

Also on Ao3

Taako sees Lup going through some letters one day, when she and Barold are visiting. He wanders over and grabs one randomly off the pile. He recognizes the gentle curves of the handwriting easily, and sees red.

Taako, like all of them, had taken turns filling in for Lucretia on the cycles when she’d died. He’d filled in his parts of the journals, picking up where her handwriting had left off. After a hundred years of that handwriting, he could recognize it anywhere. (He’d seen letters from the Director and hadn’t thought a thing, because she wasn’t anyone important.)

“Why is she writing to you?”  He demands. Lup snatches it back before he can rip the letter into tiny pieces, like he wants to.

“She did it while I was gone.” Lup picks up another one, keeping a careful eye on him, as if making sure that he doesn’t take a fireball to the table. It’s tempting, he has to admit, but he wouldn’t do it, because she’s the one who can spell shape, not him, and he’d never hurt Lup. “It’s… enlightening.”

Taako fumes. He fumes even more when he sees Barry has his own stack of letters, annotated in red ink, stacked neatly on the desk in the house that Taako has been sharing with the Reapers Three whenever they’re not out in the Astral Plane.

“I think they helped her,” Magnus says when Taako goes to visit him to rant about it. His letters are scattered across his kitchen table, weird carvings weighing them down like paperweights. He’s holding one of them in his hand, looking at it strangely. “Talking to us.”

“Whose fault is it that she couldn’t?” Taako snaps. He doesn’t get it, how they’ve all forgiven her. As if it wasn’t her fault. Sure, they don’t hate her, he understands that, because yeah, okay, maybe he doesn’t hate her anymore. But there’s a difference between not hating and forgiveness and he doesn’t understand how it is that they’ve managed to find it.

Magnus shrugs. “Hers. She knows it. But she still missed us.”

“She doesn’t deserve too!” Taako throws his hands into the air. “We didn’t get to miss her. We didn’t even bet to miss each other!”

Magnus shrugs again.

Merle just pours him a cup of tea. Outside, the sea crashes against the beach. The kids, the kids who are only just learning to call him “Uncle Taako,” even though they should have been doing it their whole lives, are playing on the shore. “I dunno, I thought they were interesting.”

Taako calls Davenport on his Stone of Farspeech that night, because if anyone could understand, it would be him.  

“It’s just what she does, Taako. You cook, Magnus carves, she writes. It’s… comforting.” Davenport is in some far away place, exploring the world. Taako has a postcard from him in his pocket, describing the kind of spiced tea that a port town specializes in. He’s seen postcards pinned to Magnus’ walls and Merle’s, and read Lup and Barry’s out loud to Kravitz.

He wonders if Lucretia gets postcards. He wonders if she keeps them in a scrapbook or something—it’s been over a decade, maybe she picked up scrapbooking.

“Well, why didn’t she write to me then?”

The words surprise him, so he hangs up before Davenport can respond.

He turns that thought over and over in his head, trying to understand it. He doesn’t care what she thinks of him. He doesn’t care that she didn’t try to offer him an explanation, not like the way that she’s offered everybody else.

Some small, rational part of himself that sounds weirdly like Merle, points out that he’s been avoiding Lucretia.

To spite that particular part of himself, he makes sure to kick a fucking tree and tell Mavis and Mookie an embarrassing story about their dad which he definitely embellishes a little. It’s kind of hard to horrify a couple of kids who know that their dad has died a shit ton of times and are aware of his proclivities towards plants because Lucretia’s journals got broadcasted right into their brains, but Taako has never let a little thing like that stop him.

He decides to take matters into his own hands, because talking to Lucretia about his feelings is absolutely overrated, no matter what Kravitz says.

He breaks into the new Bureau of Balance headquarters, which is much easier now that it’s not on the moon, and raids her office, pointedly ignoring the portrait of all of them hanging on the wall. It’s fully restored and he hates how happy they look. Because they were young and stupid and didn’t realize how everything was going to go to shit and it’s not fair.

“Taako? What are you doing?”

Lucretia looks better, he has to admit, now that the Hunger is passed. She’s not younger by any stretch of the word, but she looks less tired, less wary. The dark circles under her eyes which he had for over a year dismissed as nothing have faded away. She’s letting her hair grow too. Not as long as it ever got on the Starblaster, but it’s no longer cropped short like it was when he’d met her once again for the first time.

He scowls and turns to face her, faking a grin that he knows she’ll see right through. “Hear you’ve been writing letters. Wanted to see what you’ve got to say for yourself.” There’s an unspoken challenge there, and they both know it.

Her faces goes blank. “Bottom left drawer,” she says. She waves a hand, and some sort of magical protection dispels.

It’s a lot of paper, all covered in thousands of lines of that same, careful handwriting. They’re tied together with a neon pink ribbon.

Lucretia stands there, leaning against an ordinary staff, and she looks older once again. The world seems to be resting on her shoulders, and Taako should care, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t, because she doesn’t deserve his pity.  

Taako storms out, with the letters under his arm and goes to the school.

--

Taako,

“Sizzle It Up with Taako” is a bomb-ass banger of a show. I went in disguise and sat in the back, just in case. Your act was inspired. It was great to see you back in the kitchen, and the bits I got to taste were magnificent.

You seemed perfectly at home in the kitchen, which was great to see.

I wonder though…

Do you ever notice that the van is large enough for three? My plan was for you and Lup to be a double-act, with Barry as your driver. That might be a bit cruel to Barry, yes, to be relegated to that role, but he and Lup would be near each other. I have no doubt that the two of them would have fallen in love again. How could they not? A century of love can’t just be erased. It’s part of why I separated the rest of you. But at least the three of you would be together. He’d have sent in an application for the University in Neverwinter, so he’d at least have that option, but… I doubt he’d have left Lup.

But even without them, you seem at home there, using alchemy in the kitchen, all flashy and bright. You shine like a sun, in that place. I’m so glad, Taako.

-L

--

It’s not the first letter, but it’s the first one that matters. Taako throws it down and tries to think back to his caravan, thinks about Sazed, who he’d hired, not Lucretia, and he tries to think.

Lup and him both in the caravan, elbows brushing against each other in a space not quite large enough but not caring, because it’s each other. Cooking and laughing, using magic and flare and showmanship in their creations, travelling and never stopping in one place for too long.

Barry, with them, awkward and hesitant like he’d been before he’d known them, slowly getting talked into magical conversations, being a bit of a nerd, flirting with Lup, slowly, painfully slowly, falling in love in the most ridiculous way possible.

Taako shoves the thoughts aside, because it had never happened. Instead, Barry plunged off the Starblaster, killed by Taako, and Lup had been stuck in an umbrella for a decade, while Taako had been alone in that caravan.

He’d been alone and he shouldn’t have been, and Lucretia knew that.

--

Taako,

I hear you’re a hit in the Underdark. Of course you are. I hope you’re enjoying your newfound celebrity.

There’s still no word on Lup. I’m looking, Taako, I promise, and the moment I find her I will bring her back to you.

-L

--

Seeing Lup’s name written in Lucretia’s careful handwriting is more painful than Taako had thought it would be.

He should be mad, he thinks, about Lucretia spying on him. Keeping an eye on him, like she cares.

He’s not though. He just grabs the next letter and keeps reading. He’s not sure why he’s even reading them, because it’s not like they’re going to change anything. He knows what she’s done. Her feeling sad about it doesn’t matter.

Her loneliness does not undo his own.

--

Taako,

I’ve heard about

I can’t believe

You’d never

Glamor Springs was a

When I first heard about Glamor Springs, I sent someone to investigate what had happened. I… I can’t quite believe that it’s actually happened. I know it was not intentional—you’re many things Taako, but I know you’d never kill with your cooking. But an accident… it just seems so unlike you that I can’t wrap my head around it.

You’re a wanted elf now. I can almost hear the jokes we would have made about it once, but it was always different, when we’d known that they’d never see us again after the end of the year. You might be running for the rest of your life.

I considered writing up a version of events and feeding it to the Voidfish. I could give you a fresh start, let you begin from scratch.

But…

The only reason I could do it so effectively the first time was that I knew the material so well. My journals were the story of our adventures—your anecdotes about the mongoose language were there, Lup’s doodles were in the margins, there are entire sections written in Magnus’s handwriting because he didn’t believe I was doing the story justice. Even your history before our adventure, I knew well enough to be able to edit around, because we’d had a hundred years to get to know each other. I knew every detail. I knew what I was doing, and I could handle it all with immaculate care.

I don’t know what happened to you, those years wandering Faerun as a wandering chef. I have broad strokes, but with work like this, I’m terrified of what would happen if I slipped up. If I’m too ruthless, someone else could end up like Davenport. If I’m too sparring, you could end up being wanted but not know why.

As much as it pains me to admit it Taako… you’re a stranger to me now.

And I can’t afford to spare the resources that it would take to learn your story well enough to do that.

I’m sorry Taako. I really am. I just wanted you to be happy.

-L

--

Taako stops reading, after the letter about Glamour Springs. He gets up and shoves them in a desk he never uses, because he doesn’t need a desk, he mostly just have one because Magnus carved it for him and it looks pretty fucking sweet, and then he goes into the kitchen and makes all of Lucretia’s favorite dishes out of spite and then he feeds them to the Bone Squad, ignoring Lup and Barry’s looks.

Lup finds the letters that night. “So you went to see her?”

“Yeah,” Taako says.

“Did you two… talk?”

Taako throws himself onto the couch—not the comfy sofa thing that Barry bought and won’t let him get rid of, but the proper couch, the one that’s for fainting and dramatic flinging.

“No,” he says, once he’s in proper position.

Lup drops the letters on his face, because she’s a terrible sister like that.

“Read them,” she says unsympathetically. “I know it’s hard. But I think it will help.”

“Help what?” Taako wants to say.

But Lup asked him too, so he keeps reading.

--

Taako,

When I heard you had found Merle and Magnus I laughed until I cried. Avi thought I had lost my mind.

I’m so glad you’ve found them again.

-L

--

“Yeah, well, whose fault is it that I didn’t have them?” Taako mutters, flipping the page.

On the back, she’s sketched a view of the Moon Base from her office. It’s just a quick doodle—Lucretia’s a really fucking good artist though, so it’s good.

He stares at it, and he’s shocked to realize that he misses that place.

How fucked up is that?

--

Taako,

I’ve done a lot of damage, haven’t I?

It’s taken me a while to realize just how much removing Lup from the equation has changed you. But it has, irrevocably, completely, and astonishingly. I’ve never known you to be like this; it’s like you’re harder, angrier, somehow. I don’t know if I even have the write words to describe it. You trust less. You were always lonely, but now, it feels infinitely greater. You walk around like there’s a gaping hole, a void that can’t be filled, or even grieved properly.

It’s only now that I realize that maybe removing Lup wasn’t a mercy. In my year alone, the pain was so much that it was crippling. I wished so much that I could just forget, so I could do what I needed to do, because the pain, the grief, was just too much.

I have never believed the adage “It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”  If I had realized how long it would be, maybe I would have made a different decision. But I had no idea that it would take me a decade to even get one artifact besides my Staff.

I should have let you keep her, I see that now. It’s too late to change it, but I can see that now. Even though she can’t be here, I should have left her in your story. I guess, somehow, I was always so focused on not seeing you as two parts of a whole that I failed to realize that being separate people didn’t mean that you didn’t need each other.

I’m so sorry Taako.

-L

--

Taako throws the letters across the room. The ribbon is undone, and as a result the paper goes everywhere, individual sheets floating across the room and Taako just stands in the middle of it all, breathing heavily and trying not to cry.

The Death Trio are gone, checking out a rock band that’s possibly a necromantic cult or just is really into a skull aesthetic, and so Taako’s alone, in the house, and he wants to call up Lucretia and give her a goddamn piece of his mind.

It’s not right, he thinks, falling to the floor. Paper crinkles underneath him, but he doesn’t care.

For a century, it never mattered.

They’d all been sold out before, been betrayed, been stabbed in the back—sometimes literally. They’d died, they’d lost, they’d been screwed over, but it hadn’t mattered.

Because the rest of the world didn’t.

All of those other worlds, none of it had counted. They were dust. Why should Taako care if dust betrayed them? They were at best, impermanent and at worst, dead.

Taako didn’t need them. Sure, he’d liked some of the people over the years, but they hadn’t mattered. And so what if they didn’t like him? So what if they betrayed him? So what?

There had been six people who did, who were there for him. There wasn’t just Lup, anymore. There were six other, ridiculous, dumb, stubborn assholes who were there for him and cared about him.

Lucretia mattered.

She mattered, and she’d done this anyways.

She’d left him alone.

And that…

That counted.

--

Taako,

Do you really have to be so mean to Angus? All of you are, honestly, but that boy looks up to you so much.

-L

--

Taako goes to clean up and he doesn’t intend to read any of it, because clearly, what more could there be to say after that?

He looks down at that one, and swallows.

They’re all out of order now, randomly scattered across the room. He can’t help but look at them as he gathers them up and read Lucretia’s notes. There are doodles and recipes and a watercolor portrait of him and Lup. There’s mission debriefs and descriptions of whatever stupid shit she caught Magnus or Merle doing.

He gives in and puts them back in order to keep reading.

--

Taako,

The Grim Reaper?

-L

--

“Shut up,” Taako mutters, but his mouth twitches.

--

Taako,

It’s all my fault, isn’t it?

The Hunger is coming back, and I’m not sure that we can stop it. I don’t know if we can get all the artifacts in time.

And Barry and Lup’s warnings about the side effects of the shield…

I have doubts, Taako.

I can’t stand that. I’ve done too many horrible things to have doubts now. If I have doubts, it means I did all these things for nothing. Everything I’ve sacrificed, everything I’ve done, I did for a reason. It must be for a reason.

But look at what I’ve done to you—my family, my friends.

Would that disaster in Glamor Springs had happened if you’d been aware that you didn’t have a second person that you were used to, checking your work as you went? If you were the full, powerful wizard that I’d known during our century together, rather than someone who is still unravelling the true extent of his arcane powers?

Would Merle’s marriage have collapsed if he’d had a century of wisdom and peacemaking to draw upon? Would Magnus have lost his wife if he had all his skills as a warrior and protector?

These questions haunt me. I tried to give you all happy endings, but did I end up robbing you of the tools you needed to maintain them? You were all heroes. You deserved happy endings, you deserved the world to be kind to you.

You are going to hate me when you remember, I know that. I deserve that. I deserve all of it. I’ve done horrible things in the name of pursuing my goals, but what I’ve done to all of you… that’s the unforgivable.

But does that matter? I can’t bring myself to saying that I wouldn’t do most of it again. I would have changes, yes, but… the wars over the relics needed to be stopped. That I know, in my bones. There were far too many dead, Taako.

But of course, I can’t say if it will be worth it or not until the shield spell works or doesn’t.

If it works…

It will have been worth it.

Right?

-L

--

Taako stares at the letter for a long, long time.

He reads it over and over again, trying to think of what to… well, think.

Because…

Yeah, Lucretia has a good point.

She’d made them worse. Irrevocably, worse. They’d lost purpose, they’d lost their kindness, their bonds to other people, they’d lost a century of lessons learned and skills painfully gained. She’d stripped all of that away and gone off on her own, determined to fix the mistakes that all of them had made.

Taako crumples up the letter again, then slowly straightens it out, because he needs to reread it.

He stares.

Lup was in the umbrella before Lucretia had fed Fisher the journals.

He thinks about her, scrying over and over again, until she collapsed from exhaustion. Taako had never even thanked her, because he was too busy trying to find her as well. She’d been looking.

Over and over again, in her letters, she’d promised him that she’d been looking.

How would they have found her? How long would it have been for them to track down Wave Echo Cave? And would they have looked in the umbrella, or made assumptions that she was… elsewhere, like Lucretia had? It had taken Lup months to gain enough strength to try to message him.

Would Magnus have met Julia? Taako’s visited the grave, walked through the town of Raven’s Roost, rebuilt and in its glory, and now he wonders what could have brought Magnus to that town, made him stay. He’d led a revolution, and he’d fallen in love and gotten married and yeah, maybe he could have saved Julia if he’d been like he is now, but…

She had died while Magnus was gone. Taako knows that story. It had taken until after the Hunger, but Taako knows the story.

And he and Merle went out a few months back and found this Kalen and finished things, because Lucretia was right about that, at least.

Magnus had earned that happy ending.

They all had.

Merle had earned a life on the beach, but… Taako doesn’t know that he agrees with Lucretia. Merle was still learning to be a dad, and he had no idea what he was doing.

Taako tries to think about the world, where Lucretia never did what she did. He thinks about wars, and the Relics blowing shit up, about the way that all of them had been… withering, in those months. Lup had been gone and there was no trace of her and…

Taako doesn’t know if that would have been a better world.

--

Taako,

I was right I guess.

I can’t believe you’d handed Lup right over to me and I hadn’t realized it. If I had just thought, I might have been able to free her from that.

I don’t know what it would have changed, but I could have answered that question so much faster.

The world is saved. I was right, but I was wrong, and I don’t…

I keep trying to think of how we could have gotten here without this, I really do. I know what I’ve done is unforgivable. I’m not trying to justify it. I deserve every ounce of your hatred. I don’t expect you to ever read this post-script, this final letter, this epilogue.

The Hunger is defeated. We finally can move on with our lives.

I just wish the cost hadn’t been quite so high.

I’m not even sure what to do with these letters. You don’t want to come near me, and I am trying to respect your wishes. But it feels wrong, to never send these letters. To never give you at least the chance to have the answers to some of the questions you may have.

I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.

But I just want you to know that you are my family, and I love you still, even though I know you want nothing to do with me.

-Lucretia

--

Taako goes to see her.

“This doesn’t make it right,” he tells her. She’s sitting in her office, because there’s no throne room in the new Bureau of Benevolence. Lucretia’s still dramatic, sure, because this office is fucking bombastic as fuck, but now she doesn’t need a giant fucking staircase or a base on the moon. Taako’s not sure where she’s channeling all of her extra, but it’s probably around somewhere. Maybe there’s a secret passage or something. He’ll ask Angus, Angus would have found a secret passage in the first week.

Lucretia looks at him in surprise. “You read them.”

“Of course I did,” Taako says with a lightness he doesn’t feel.

“Taako,” she says. “I know it doesn’t matter. I know what I did was unforgivable. It’s not fair, I know, that your happiness was collateral damage to save the world.” Grief, Taako realizes, is deeply set into her face. She’s old, she’s fucking old, she’s way older than him, and that feels weird. “I know that nothing can ever make amends for that. You deserved so much better, Taako.”

“Yeah,” Taako says quietly. “I did.”

She bows her head and lowers her eyes, and Taako drops the letters onto her desk.

They’re not her letters. They’re written on Kravtiz’s fucking emo stationary. She looks up at him, startled.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better as well,” he says. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not fucking cool with it—but you know. You kept looking.” He swallows, his throat tight. “That… that matters.”

Lucretia carefully undoes the ribbon—he’d found the ugliest, frilliest, laciest ribbon he could, and then transmuted it to make it worse.

Pages upon pages of letters explode outwards, because Taako had rigged a tiny bit of a spell on there, and Lucretia picks one up.

“Lucretia,” she reads. “So I made some weird pumpkin cake thing that nobody likes and I know now it’s because you’re the only person who likes it and I never could figure out why I’d keep making it even though I kept telling myself I’d change the recipe. Dash, Taako, you know, from TV.”

She looks up at him, her eyes large and watering, pressing the letter against her chest like it’s something precious.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Taako shrugs. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he says. “I’m still mad at you.”

But he meets her eyes, and finds himself smiling.  

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Celebration (Chapter 2)

Daniel finds out that Space Kid’s birthday is quickly approaching, and a number of things make him want to get the birthday boy a proper gift. But due to circumstances out of his control, Max is placed in charge of him for the day and plans on taking full advantage of the position he’s been given. And by ‘full advantage’, he means ‘make Daniel’s life as miserable as possible.’ [Read on Ao3]

(MAJOR, MAJOR THANKS to @kuzann for being an awesome beta for the fic <3)

“I don’t think my pizza was cut into perfect, asymmetrical squares, Danny.”

“You call me that again and I’ll use your fingers as toppings in the next batch,” Daniel threatened as he slammed the over door shut. “Also, you and your friends can’t be back here while I’m cooking. I mean, unless you brats want to play with kitchen knives, then by all means.” “Oooh, can we really?!” Nikki asked and reached for the knife closest to her before Neil stopped her. “Hold on,” he said, and looked at Max. “Are we really sure that it’s a good idea to spend all day antagonizing him? I mean, I get it, but at the same time, he already wants our heads on a silver platter.” “Exactly, Neil,” Max said. “He wants to kill us. The way I see it is we’re already on his shit list, and if we’re given an opportunity to ruin his day, we might as well take advantage of that. I mean, what’s he going to do to us then? Kill us twice?” “I can think of at least three things wrong with that statement,” Neil said. Max rolled his eyes. “Nikki thinks it’s a good idea.” “Actually, I just came back here to eat lunch with you guys because he’s the only adult at the camp who doesn’t care if I play with sharp things,” Nikki said, with half a slice of pizza in her mouth. “And the only adult who doesn’t care if I put weird things in my mouth.” “Again, that kind of ties back to the whole ‘wanting to kill us’ thing,” Neil said. “You two should listen to Neil,” Daniel said as he turned to face them. “I mean, except for when it comes to the knife thing. If you’d like to play with them, Nikki, I can tell you which ones are the sharpest.” “Awesome!” Nikki said cheerfully. “Are they sharp enough for me to stick through the sides of a mountain and climb up it like in the movies?” “No idea, but you can try it anyway,” Daniel said. “Either you’ll make it to the top and die from the lack of oxygen or starvation, you’ll make it up halfway before falling to your death, or it won’t work and you’ll get lost on your way back to camp.” This time it was Max who stepped in front of her protectively. “Don’t you give her ideas, asshole! Go back to remaking my pizza! And don’t forget, I want at least six pepperonis per slice!” Daniel rolled his eyes, then returned to the window that connected to the rest of the Mess Hall. “You’ll have to wait until I’m finished serving the other campers, Maxwell. Believe it or not, the world does not revolve around you.” “As if you actually care about everyone else,” Max said. “You just don’t want to have to do what I say.” “Shows how much you know,” Daniel said. “Which is clearly not much.” Max pointed at Harrison, who stood right outside the window with his lunch tray. “Alright then, prove it. Be nice to Harrison while you serve him. Oh, and, uh...when I tell you to do something, you have to call me ‘sir’ until the day’s over!” The little brat was clearly enjoying himself and the amount of power he had over Daniel, and it took every ounce of Daniel’s self-control not to take the meat cleaver on the edge of the counter and chase them around the camp with it. He could practically hear their horrified little screams in his head. What a delightful sound it would be. He inhaled and exhaled slowly in an attempt to collect himself and push those wonderful, yet intrusive thoughts to the back of his mind. He could handle this degrading nonsense for a day. He could follow the boy’s ridiculous commands. One day of Hell instead of two weeks. He could do this. It was just another game between him and Max. A game he was going to win. And that thought was enough for Daniel to turn towards the service window and place a slice of pizza on Harrison’s tray. “Here you go, Harrison. Enjoy!” Harrison did not smile back and stepped away from the counter a bit. “Um...thank you?” “What’s the matter?” Daniel asked, unable to resist the urge to smile at Harrison’s obvious discomfort. “Is something wrong with me serving you your food?” “Uh…” Harrison looked down at the pizza again. “N...No, I guess not?” “Well, then…” Daniel nudged the tray closer to him, his smile widening. “As I said before, enjoy!” Nervously, Harrison snatched the tray off the counter and hurried off in a terrified fashion. One that made Daniel smile wider as he turned back to face Max. “Good enough for you, sir ?” Max’s own smile immediately dropped and he held up his hands. “Okay, no, that’s creepy as shit. You can keep the ‘sir’ thing going, but no smiling at me like that.” “Aww, what’s wrong?” Daniel asked with slight amusement over Max’s obvious discomfort. “You don’t like seeing me happy, sir ?” “I just don’t like seeing you, period,” Max said. “Drop the fucking smile.” “How about I drop you down a hole instead?” Daniel said, his smile disappearing as he looked towards the top of the fridge. “Or perhaps your little friend could drop to the floor from there and crack her skull.” Max and Neil looked towards where Nikki had been standing just before the conversation only to realize that she was gone, then followed Daniel’s gaze. Nikki was perched on the edge of the fridge top with her head just barely touching the ceiling. She grinned and gave them a cheerful wave when she noticed them looking at her. “Hey, guys!” Daniel rolled his eyes and turned back to face the Mess Hall as the boys went to try and get her down (or perhaps they were just moving to the fridge to make conversing with her easier, it mattered not to him), but his annoyance faded quickly when he realized which camper was next in line for lunch. “Hi, Daniel!” Space Kid said cheerfully as he placed his tray on the counter. “Did you finish talking to David and Gwen about...whatever it is you needed to talk to them about?” “Unfortunately, yes,” Daniel said, and placed two slices of pizza on his tray. “And as a result of that conversation, I’m stuck with Max and his friends all day.” “Aww, well, that’s okay!” Space Kid said cheerfully. “We can hang out tomorrow instead! Or maybe we can hang out while you hang out with Max, Neil, and Nikki!” Daniel quickly glanced over at Max and the others, who had started a new conversation while his back was turned; Nikki was still on top of the fridge, which forced Max and Neil to strain their necks in order to look up at her while they talked. Hopefully they’d hurt their necks doing that for too long. One could only hope. “I’m just saying, I think you should make him eat bugs!” Nikki’s feet swung forward and back, gently bouncing off the fridge as she talked. “It’d be funny!” “I’ll see what I can do,” Max said. “You want him to do anything embarrassing, Neil?” “I don’t know,” Neil said with uncertainty. “I still think making him angry is a bad idea…” “So you’re saying you don’t want to try out some science experiments on him?” Max asked him, an eyebrow raised. ...Well, at least they were distracted. But as much as Daniel wished he could have Space Kid... Neil by his side during his day of torment, he didn’t want the boy to catch onto his birthday plans. And he certainly didn’t want him to be subjected to Max’s cruel insults, especially not right before his special day. Daniel looked back at Space Kid with a smile. “Why don’t we try and hang out tomorrow instead?” he said. “I mean, after all, it’ll be your birthday! Maybe we can do something special to celebrate.” Space Kid’s eyes widened. “Maybe we can play with the present my parents will send me! Unless it’s clothes. But I guess we can do something else while I wear my new clothes.” “Sounds like a plan,” Daniel said, his tone soft. “Enjoy the extra slice of pizza. Consider it an early birthday gift.” Daniel’s smile fell for a moment. “But you know, not your only gift! Of course I’m going to get you more than just a slice of pizza for your birthday!” “You’re really going to give me a present?” Daniel felt that odd, tight (Was it painful? He...couldn’t exactly tell for sure) sensation in his chest return as he stared at the look on that sweet little boy’s face. He seemed so hopeful, so excited at the thought of getting a present… If Daniel couldn’t think of something, he... he’d be so disappointed. That hope, that excitement...it would be crushed. And while he was happy to crush the hope of any other kids at the camp, the painful feeling only grew stronger at the thought of Space Kid...of Neil’s soft, brown eyes full of tears and his expression heartbroken and destroyed. It was a thought he didn’t like to think about. He once again made sure Max wasn’t listening before he leaned over the counter. “I’m going to get you the best gift ever,” he said in a low voice. “I promise.” The almost-painful feeling in his chest seemed to fade as he watched Space... Neil’s smile grow wider before he took his tray and hurried off to the nearest table. “Hey, asshole! My pizza’s going to burn if you don’t stop playing besties with Space Case and take it out of the oven!” Max said behind him. “And hurry up, I’ve already started preparing a list while you were busy talking to your new bestest buddy Space Kid. Starting with ‘getting Max’s pizza and cutting it correctly this time, with the right amount of pepperoni slices on each piece’ and so far, ending with ‘let Neil test his latest experiment on you.’” “He talked me into it,” Neil admitted quickly. “I just...I can’t just pass up a rare opportunity where I can experiment on a human guinea pig and still have it be ethical. Do you know how many scientists would kill for that kind of chance?” “And I kinda want to see if I can get you to eat a bug!” Nikki added. “You think I can get him to eat one, Max?” “I mean, if I tell him to do it, he’ll have to,” Max said smugly. “He has to do anything I say today!” Once again, Daniel’s smile fell as he turned back to the kitchen and headed for the stove. Right... he was at the mercy of the worst child on Earth and his little demon friends. His eyes drifted to the space book that rested on one of the nearby counters and once again tried to relax as he pulled Max’s new pizza out of the oven. He thought about that look on Spa— Neil’s face when he said he’d get him a gift. How excited he would be when he got it tomorrow. How happy he’d be that someone other than his parents had actually done something for his birthday! And it kept him going as he proceeded to cut Max’s pizza into the requested shapes. It kept him going as Max finally ate his lunch, before promptly requesting that Daniel carry him, Nikki, and Neil out to Science Camp. It kept him going as he passed by David in the middle of a call about the supply room floor, who let out a quiet sound of delight and a comment about “how nice it was to see him getting along with the kids” before promptly returning to the call. Daniel could only hope that it would be enough to keep him going for the rest of the day. ----------

“I think I saw it move!”

Neil looked up from the unidentifiable lump of fur before them to stare at Nikki. “I haven’t even shocked it yet!” “Maybe it’s not actually dead?” Max said. “After Nikki dragged it out of the lake and then all the way across camp?” Neil pointed out. “If it’s only pretending to be dead, it’s doing a great job.” Daniel glared at the kids over his book, but said nothing as he let his eyes drop back to the text. They were distracted, and while Daniel knew that this moment of peace was only temporary, he was going to take advantage of every second he could by staying quiet and browsing his space book for gift ideas for Space Kid...Neil. There were plenty of ideas within it that Daniel could work into his gift for him, mainly in the chapter after his namesake, but none seemed to particularly jump out at him. And the suspicion that he might be wasting his time looking through the book for some kind of inspiration began to rear its ugly head. Space Kid...Neil loved space; but he didn’t seem to like one particular aspect of space, which meant it would be difficult to narrow down gift ideas. He lowered the book and let out an irritated sigh. Why did space have to be so...so massive?  “Got something you want to say, Danny?” ...God damn it. “No, Max. Nothing at all.” Max held a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, who?” “...Sir.” “That’s better,” Max said, before he turned back to the others. “You know, maybe we should have Daniel shake it a bit to see if it does anything. I mean, if he has time to sit there and read his stupid space book, then he has time to examine this thing for us.” Daniel cast him a dirty look. “Absolutely not. No force on Earth could make me go anywhere near something so repulsive. And I don’t just mean the animal either.” “Oh, haha,” Max said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think you have any room to call us repulsive after eating five worms, three beetles and whatever that last fucking bug that Nikki dug up was.” “Whatever he was, he was a fighter!” Nikki said proudly. “I mean, even when Daniel bit into him and threw him back up, he still kept wiggling.” Damn it, he’d been hoping the kids wouldn’t bring that up again. He held a hand over his mouth and tried desperately to force the remaining contents of his stomach down again. “Aww, what’s wrong, Danny?” Max asked with a grin. “Feeling queasy again? Maybe some wet food will help with that.” “I’m fine, thank you,” Daniel said calmly once his stomach settled. “And as for the issue of who is more repulsive, I don’t necessarily think it’s fair to compare the two, seeing as you kids are repulsive by choice, and I am unfortunately stuck in this situation through no fault of my own.” “No fault?” Max asked in disbelief. “You tried to kill all of us!” “And would that really have been so bad?” Daniel asked. “I mean, you’re the one who was legally dead for two minutes, so you tell us,” Max said. “Heck, with how cold your fucking hands are, who’s to say you’re not technically still dead?” “Still dead? You mean like a zombie?” Nikki asked, and hurried over to Daniel and shoved her hand in his face. “Bite me, I wanna be a zombie, too!” “You really want me to bite your hand?” Daniel asked her. “Because I don’t think you do. And if you don’t get your hand out of my face, then you’re going to regret it.” “More threats, Danny?” Max said, and crossed his arms. “Well, that’s just unacceptable. What do you think, Neil?” “I think I’d rather focus my mental energy on my project,” Neil said, without looking up from his tinkering. “And not push the ex-cultist to the point where he bites off Nikki’s fingers.” “As I said before, I’d listen to Neil if I were you, Max,” Daniel said as he pushed Nikki away from him. “He always was the smartest of the three of you. Though, considering the intelligence levels of you two—” He gestured to both Max and Nikki. “—that isn’t exactly saying much.” It was a risky insult, given his current situation, and Daniel felt immediate regret overtake him when he noticed the annoyed expression that crossed Neil’s face before he turned to face Max. “...You said something about having him come touch this thing?” he said, with a gesture to the furry lump. Max’s mouth curled into a smile and he gave Neil a playful nudge. “Hey, there he is! You heard the man, Danny! Come check and see if this thing’s alive.” “I will not,” Daniel said flatly. “Why can’t Nikki do it?” Max held a hand to his chest. “You would let dear, sweet, innocent little Nikki touch some filthy, unknown, possibly dead animal without examining it first?” he asked with fake-offense. “For shame, Danny!” Daniel gave him a look. “She’s the one who carried it over here. Also, sweet? Innocent? The other day when she found a badger corpse on the edge of the campgrounds, she not only tried to hide it under her cot, but she asked me if I knew anything about taxidermy so she could stuff it when David and Gwen said she couldn’t keep a rotting animal in her tent.” “Well, I mean, the Quartermaster wasn’t around, so I couldn’t ask him,” Nikki pointed out. “An ex-cultist seemed like the next best option for that sort of thing.” “You could probably find him now,” Daniel pointed out. “And the corpse is probably still fresh, so stuffing the little bastard isn’t off the table yet.” “You think?!” Nikki asked excitedly. “Because I marked where they told me to bury it! Figured I’d either come back for it later or just give it a nice final resting place.” “Nikki, don’t let him distract you,” Max said under his breath. “We want him to touch the dead thing, remember?” “Oh, yeah!” Nikki said as she scooped the mysterious lump up in her arms and thrust it towards Daniel. “Touch it, bitch!” Daniel rose to his feet to take a step back from the lump. “I am not touching it!” he said firmly, and looked at Max. “Also she just did and it didn’t move!” “I don’t care,” Max said, and he stood aside to give Daniel an unobstructed view of theater camp, where David was assisting Preston with an unknown task. “Because if I recall correctly, David told you that you had to listen to me today! And if I tell you to touch this possibly-still-alive creature, then you’re gonna get your pasty ass over here and touch it!” “I am not a child, Maxwell,” Daniel said, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t—” “You have until I count to three before I call David over here. One...”Daniel felt another surge of anger shoot through him and his face started to go red, any thoughts of a birthday present momentarily forgotten as Max uncrossed his arms and held up one finger. The little monster thought he was so high and mighty, so invincible, so powerful right now. What Daniel wouldn’t give to be able to slam his head against the ground over and over again until his miserable little skull shattered. “Two.” While Max held up another finger, Daniel’s gaze shifted past him for an instant to the opened space book on the edge of the table, and he was able to regain some control over himself. It wasn’t the time to try for a win. If he did what they wanted, he could return to his book and therefore figure out an idea for Space Kid...Neil faster. That was all that was important to him today. “You really want me to go for three, Danny?” Biting back a comment about where Max could stick his fingers (preferably into a whirring blender), Daniel sighed and reluctantly reached down to touch the lifeless, furry mass that now lay at his feet. Suddenly, the mass sprang to life with an angry hiss and sank its sharp teeth into Daniel’s hand, and he jumped back with a loud screech of surprise and pain. While Max cackled with delight, Daniel shook his arm violently and tried to force the creature to release its grasp on him. “I guess it was alive!” Max said between bouts of laughter. “Nikki, did you plan that?! That was amazing!” “Nope,” Nikki said, half-crouched as if she were looking for an opportunity to get in on the action. “But man, that little sucker was really good at playing dead!” Daniel smacked the creature’s body against the nearest tree and it finally let go of his hand, righting itself as soon as it hit the ground and scurrying off towards the woods with another hiss. Daniel watched it go, his body shaking from the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he tried to catch his breath. He heard Max let out a low whistle behind him. “Damn, that looked like it hurt! Good thing you didn’t let us play with that thing, Danny!” “Kinda wish he hadn’t run off, though,” Nikki said. “I would have loved to learn his ‘playing dead’ secrets. Maybe I could have used it to get out of doing homework when school picks up again!” “Maybe you should follow it then!” Daniel snapped at her as he clutched the bite mark (thank goodness the creature hadn’t broken the skin) with his uninjured hand. “See if you can’t catch it! Maybe it’ll give you even more rabies than you have already!” Nikki let out a laugh. “Joke’s on you, I’ve had all my shots! Not by choice, though. Sneaky doctors and their stupid tranquilizers… I mean, one little bite on the arm and suddenly everyone’s freaking out and trying to tie me down to the table. I mean, if anything, I’m just giving the hospital more patients! They should be thanking me!” “Oh, gee, I can’t imagine how they must feel!” Daniel said with bitter sarcasm. “Dude, you got bit by a possum,” Max said nonchalantly. “And it didn’t even break the skin. Grow up.” “Well, so much for bringing it back to life,” Neil said. “You can’t revive something that’s already alive.” Max shrugged. “I mean, we could always go back to the ‘shock Daniel and see if he’s actually a zombie’ plan.” “I think I’ll pass,” Neil said. “As much fun as it would be to test out the effects of an electric shock on someone who was legally dead, I’m not about to waste my battery charge on him. If I’m going to experiment on him, it’ll be with chemicals. See how well they mix with his weird probably-still-super-detoxified insides.” “That’s dark, Neil,” Max said. “I respect that.” “Hey, I have an idea!” Nikki said. “We could try reviving that badger I buried instead! And Daniel could teach us those taxidermy tricks that he refused to tell me yesterday.” Max gave her a huge smile. “Hey, there’s an idea! And to add onto that, Daniel could go dig it up for us!” “Uh, no Daniel can’t!” Daniel said, narrowing his eyes at Max. “And don’t try to pull the David card, because he and Gwen are the ones who told her no in the first place!” Max’s gaze shifted to Daniel’s abandoned space book and Daniel’s eyes went wide. “Don’t you dare—” “Too late!” Max and Daniel dived for the book in unison, but Max grabbed it a second earlier than him and quickly rolled out of the way before Daniel could tackle him. “Too late and too slow, Cult Man!” “Max, you give that back!” Daniel demanded as he scrambled to his feet, one hand still outstretched. “That doesn’t belong to you!” “Hey, come on, Danny,” Max said with a grin. “Haven’t you heard it’s nice to share?” Daniel stormed towards him but Max quickly tossed the book in Neil’s direction before Daniel could grab it. “Neil, catch!” Daniel turned on his heels as the book landed in Neil’s hands. Daniel glared daggers at him as he once again attempted to reclaim the book. With a terrified yet determined expression, Neil tossed the book over to Nikki, who held it in her teeth and proceeded to scurry up the nearest tree before Daniel could grab her. Once seated on a comfortable branch, Nikki dropped the book in her hand and grinned down at Daniel. “Haha, Kool Aid Man!” Nikki said triumphantly as she waved the book at him. “Everyone knows cultists can’t climb trees!” Shaking with rage, Daniel gripped the nearest branch and proceeded to climb up—rather clumsily, to his growing shame—after her. “You want to bet?!” Eyes wide and grinning with anticipation, Nikki scurried up further into the tree with little to no effort while Daniel pulled himself up after her. He had to get that book back! Without it, he was completely idea-less when it came to the gifts he could get for Neil! Hell, he was already idea-less with it! Without it…he was even less than that! He couldn’t lose the book! But despite his best attempts to keep up with Nikki’s climbing, she still remained several levels of branches above him as they got higher and higher into the tree. It was only a matter of time, now. She had to run out of branches at some point! “Nikki, I am serious! You give me that book back right now!” “Come on, slowpoke, don’t give up now!” Nikki called down to him. “We’re almost at the top.” “Nikki, this isn’t funny!” he yelled at her, already running out of breath. “If you don’t give me the book—” His sentence was cut short by the cracking of the branch beneath his foot, which was immediately followed by an abrupt and unpleasant descent towards the ground. Daniel made several attempts to grab other branches as he fell, but unfortunately his back was better at catching them than his hands were and it wasn’t long before he hit the hard, unforgiving dirt beneath the tree. The breath left his lungs in one big gust as he hit the ground, and he lay there struggling to inhale while the three of them laughed at him. “Haha, guess Nikki was right! Cultists can’t climb trees.” Somehow, the sound of Max’s voice was enough to get Daniel to ignore the aches and bruises in his everything and pull himself up from the cultist-shaped indent that had formed from the impact. For a few moments he simply glowered at Max as he fought to breathe normally again. “I hope you’ve learned how to sleep with one eye open, because if not, you’re going to wake up at the bottom of the lake someday soon,” Daniel said, his voice ragged both from anger and from having the wind knocked out of him. “Man, the fall must’ve really weakened your insults along with your spine, Danny,” Max said, still smirking. “Because if I’m at the bottom of a lake, then I’m probably not going to wake up at all.” “You know what, I think I can live with that,” Daniel said, teeth gritted as he regained both his voice and the air in his lungs. “Now tell your little nature brat to give me back my book!” “Hey, you know what you need to do to get it back,” Max said, crossing his arms. “Go dig up and stuff that badger corpse for her.” Daniel gingerly rubbed the back of his neck; it and the entire back side of his body were a mass of pain. “I am not doing that! I just fell out of a tree!” “Hey, it’s not our fault you can’t climb as fast as she can,” Max said with a shrug. “Also that fall probably fixed the gross cracking in your neck, so honestly, I think you should be thanking Nikki for that.” “You’re welcome!” Nikki called down to them as she began to climb back down the tree until she was perched on one of the lower branches. “And thanks for the workout, Daniel! You climbed higher than I thought you would! I mean, even David didn’t climb the tree that high before he fell out of it!” “I hope a woodpecker pecks out your eyes!” Daniel yelled up at her before he looked at Max again. “And as for the badger thing, there is no way I am doing that!” Max stared at him for a moment before he looked up into the tree. “Hey, Nikki, do you think you can throw the book into the lake from there?” “I can try!” Nikki said. “Just let me know when you want me to toss it!” “Will do, Nik!” he said cheerfully, before looking at Daniel again. “Does she need to toss it, Danny? Or are you going to listen?” Daniel could feel himself trembling with both rage and agony from the fall out of the tree, and for a split second, he considered forgetting about everything else (the present ideas, David and Gwen, his house arrest, everything) and instead only focus on wringing Max’s tiny little chicken neck. And while the thought of Max thrashing desperately beneath him as he wrung the life from his body was an unbelievably enjoyable one right about now, Daniel remained still while his eyes drifted to the camp several yards away from them, his anger momentarily forgotten as he watched Nerris mess about with one of her ridiculous fantasy games. Daniel couldn’t understand her strange love for such silly things. Why invest that heavily in something that was completely fabricated? Something she knew wasn’t real? ...Then again, perhaps questioning such a thing would label him a hypocrite. Besides, his eyes weren’t locked on her dice or game board. Rather the various collection of colorful, stuffed animals she had arranged in a circle before her caught and held his attention. Stuffed animals… Nerris liked stuffed animals. Nikki...liked them in the more literal sense, but a dead stuffed badger could technically be considered a stuffed animal. Kids...liked stuffed animals. Daniel was vaguely aware of Max saying something, the boy’s words muffled from the fact that Daniel’s thoughts were focused inward, and chose to keep ignoring him while he sorted out his thoughts. It was like a lightbulb had gone off in his head. Stuffed animals… kids… Did Space...Neil...He needed to figure out a better name to use. Sweet Neil? Sweet Neil. Did Sweet Neil have any stuffed animals? Daniel couldn’t remember seeing him play with any of them. But would that be a good gift for him? And even if it was, would he actually be able to make the stuffed toy? Despite Nikki’s bizarre assumptions about him knowing a thing or two about taxidermy being correct, his knowledge was still rather limited when it came to simple sewing or knitting tasks, and creating a plush toy was completely new territory for him altogether. He would have to take the time to gather materials, figure out exactly what it was he wanted to create, find a place to actually sit down and start working. Like hell he would be able to do all that in secret without Max eventually catching onto his plans. “Hey, Earth to Space Case Senior!” Max yelled, snapping his fingers in front of Daniel’s face. “Nikki’s going to show us where the badger’s buried. And unless you want her to do what you did to our Frisbee, I suggest you pick me up and carry me because when I said I wasn’t walking a single step today, I fucking meant it. Nikki’s going to stick to the trees, but hey, you can carry Neil too, if he wants.” “He wants,” Neil added. And speaking of Max... With a groan, Daniel picked up both boys and began to follow the sound of Nikki’s voice above their heads as she hopped from one tree to the next. Having to carry two ten-year-olds was not helping all the injuries he’d picked up from falling out of the tree, and he was sure that any he wasn’t feeling now he would definitely be feeling in due time. But he had an idea for a gift. An idea that wasn’t fully developed yet, but it was an idea. And the best part of an idea was that it could grow and develop into so much more, if given proper time and brainpower. “Hey, Neil, what kind of shovel do you think he should use to dig this fucking thing up?” “Well, a normal shovel would be too big,” Neil said thoughtfully. “It might disrupt the badger’s already-weakened-from-decomposition skin, which would make stuffing it nearly impossible without it completely falling apart. I’m thinking maybe a garden spade might be better.” “What about his bare hands?” Max asked. “That could work, too,” Neil said. Much like when he had been carrying Max to the Mess Hall (he always seemed to have this thought when carrying bratty children to their destination), Daniel hoped he would get that opportunity soon.

[reactingtosomething]

Solo Reaction to Orphan Black Episode 510: “To Right the Wrongs of Many”

Well Done, Show.

The Setup: This is it, Clone Club. The final ride has ended, and I for one loved the hell out of it. Check below for my final Orphan Black solo reaction. Spoilers for the last five years, basically.

SARAH: Art knows what they need and is not the one who is Helena’s twin, clearly she should go be with Helena and he should get the medical supplies. I mean I know it had to be Sarah vs. “PT” at the end, obviously. But in-universe I’m right about that logic. But yeah, Sarah killing him with very little ceremony and none of his acolytes to watch was pretty appropriate.

OH GOD they pulled no punches with that suffocation visual.

This is EVOLUTION. More on that later.

The Sarah/Mrs. S parallels during the births, though. Sarah (and all the clones) are moving out from under the control of their lives and destinies. They are not S’s to watch over or Neolution’s to control. They are the adults. They’re raising each other and their kids.

Sarah and Helena’s joyful laugh/cries after the birth(s) are just lovely.

Is Sarah getting her GED?? I’m so proud! She’s turning into such a grownup, but is also still herself. Well done, show.

Honestly I do think that Sarah should sell the house. She needs to become her own version of an adult, not just step into S’s shoes entirely. Like, don’t move away to wander the earth apart from the whole support system, but get an apartment instead maybe.

Sarah. Get your ass back in there and take the GED test!

“I don’t know how to be happy. There’s no one left to fight and I’m still a shit mum.” There is SO MUCH here. For one thing that language is super telling—Sarah may not always be good at being a mother, but she’s far from a shit one compared to Coady, the other person who’s been described as such. There’s no question about Sarah being wrong here. (Admittedly she has not always been a good mother but she has been improving and she does always have Kira’s best interests at heart.) For another thing, this is very important and realistic. Ending an all-consuming battle and returning to normal life is never simple. Sarah was good at guerrilla warfare, essentially. Those skills don’t immediately translate to healthy coping mechanisms or finding a day job. Sarah is still Sarah. They’re all still the people they were before and during this shitshow. Alison is still the woman who sold drugs and hot glue gunned her husband. They’re all still just people and they can’t go from living one life to living a totally different one with no bumps, even a normal/“easier” one. Just because Sarah can’t do it immediately doesn’t mean she can’t do it at all.

None of them are perfect and they’re all in it together and it’s the most mellow but effective multi-clone season ender ever. No one look at me.

HELENA: This is basically a nightmare birth situation and I am NOT a fan.

Helena is preparing for vengeance even while ACTIVELY CONTRACTING and all I can say is damn, woman. Props.

OH MY GOD Art and Helena are such a good team! That was highly effective tag team murder.

It’s a boy. Of course they’re boys. Kira was (nearly) exploited the way Kendall and the Ledas' birth mothers were. Kira and Charlotte are the intermediates, the ones who are part of the Leda story but won’t grow up entirely within it, but these boys are the true next generation. They’re not just repeating the script over again, they’re a departure from the Neo controlled past.

That is the cutest and creepiest mobile ever.

Orange and Purple!! Ok, but babies lose their socks ALL THE TIME. This is an imperfect method.

“Always when I eat, he poops.”

Super into her Hawaiian shirt over overalls look.

“Where does this sand come from?”

They’re still not going to explain the black part of Orphan Black, are they?

I’m touched by the significance of naming the boys after Donnie and Art, but doesn’t that get confusing? Sure, call the baby Arthur instead of Art, but there’s nothing that far away from “Donnie,” sound-wise. And at least for now they live on the same property. (The one bit of Judaism that has managed to enter my psyche the most is the custom of not naming kids after living relatives, so I’m a little weird about this kind of thing.)

RACHEL: Is Rachel coming? Is that the secret person Felix is expecting? Yesssss. Even if she can’t be a part of the happy family, she is still a part of this and the show/Felix acknowledges it.

So we’re just straight up discussing this in front of the uber driver?

She gave them the list of Ledas. Rachel’s final redemptive act saves the rest of the clones she helped to subjugate, and is a final screw you to the people who made her do it for so long.

General Rachel thought: Rachel needed redemption. She was cruel and a part of the structure that controlled and killed a lot of people. She was a product of a deeply abusive situation that made her that way, but she still was that way. She still stomped on the potential cure, she still ordered the deaths of clones and others. In a way she and Helena are a better “two sides to the same coin” comparison than Helena and Sarah are. Both were raised largely without love or proper socialization. Both were made “self aware” while fairly young. Both are taught that they are the special one, and can only continue to do they terrible things they do by believing that fact. Both self-harm. Both learn that their extremely black and white world views are limited primarily by being exposed to the family of their clones, primarily Kira. Helena made the change much more quickly, but they are both on that arc.

ALISON: “I was a drug dealer for Pete’s sake” is peak Alison Hendrix.

The Hendrixes have joy and laughter as a part of their sex lives and I am happy about this.

I know this is not from this episode, but it’s amazing

COSIMA: Cosima is curing the Ledas!! She is doing it! And of course she feels like it’s not enough because she’s Cosima, but she’s doing it!

Science monkey! I love this.

Cos, you don’t have to be good with kids if you don’t want to be. Although she actually is excellent with kids, just not babies. So I guess the point is you don’t have to be maternal if you don’t want to be. You can love the children in your life without wanting your own. And if you do want children, being scared doesn’t mean you can’t do it.

Cosima is coming so close to meeting all of these women, but not quite. That’s beautiful and sad in its own way. She’s always been the one to embrace sisterhood the quickest, so I imagine she loves each of these sisters a little bit. But she’s not destroying their lives by telling them about all of this when there’s no need to. There is an argument to be made about not making the decision for them by keeping the info from them, but telling them would also be making that decision for them. I’m going to choose to believe that they leave a semi-conspicuous web trail so that any Ledas who start to become self aware can find clone club if they’re looking.

Also, can we talk about how gorgeous this artwork is and how I’m now obsessed with it? Please illustrate all of their adventures around the world.

TONY!!!! Guys, Tony has at least been acknowledged again! He and Krystal are cured and that is good.

EVERYONE ELSE: Goddammit Coady why are you so resilient?

“PT” (AKA JOHN) losing his grip is both terrifying and delicious. I was honestly hoping he would die of a heart attack—none of his cruelty or his science could save him from a simple failure of the body. But again, it being Sarah’s action was probably necessary.

Honestly, this was an underuse of Enger after they set her up to be such an interesting character in such small moments earlier. Clearly the focus here is on the Ledas more than their subjugators, but come on. I wonder if she had anything that ended up being cut for time? I’m excited to follow the actor’s career.

I know I already used this one, and it wasn’t from this episode. But look at how compelling she is! And this ^ isn’t even as good as the toothbrush scene!

There really is a kill them in the throat theme this season.

Art calling people sestra is adorable!

274??? Living or total ever? That’s so many!

I’ve done a lot of discussing parenthood as a sign of adulthood, and I certainly don’t want to say it’s a 1:1 situation. I think it has come up a lot this season especially because the show is a discussion of both family and evolution. It’s hard to have evolution without future generations, so there is a lot of kid focus. I don’t think the show goes to far in the direction of accidentally suggesting that motherhood is essential for adult womanhood—that’s the beauty of having a lot of women in your show. You can tell multiple stories, and multiple versions of the same story without suggesting that it is The Story.

I have no idea how intentionally Fawcett and Manson created this discussion of feminism and bodily autonomy. I think the later was the main intent and the feminism came out of the realization/acceptance of what they were already in the midst of creating. By making the lead a woman, they made most of the leads women, who all had to be different from each other. They couldn’t fall into the tropes many writers do when it comes to female characters. And when they began discussing This may be wrong and ungenerous of me—they may have had exactly this intent from the beginning!—but two things: 1) I think if they had a huge focus on feminism from the beginning there would have been more than one director who was a woman in the entire run (Helen Shaver, 3 episodes) and 2) Honestly, them learning the lesson as they went and freaking going for it is kind of great. Without meaning to (from the beginning—I’m not suggesting they were totally unaware this whole time!) these guys made a show that is all about women reclaiming their bodily autonomy from a big-for-tv version of forces that are very real in our lives. Realizing that that was the story and leaning into it effectively and without becoming a morality play is impressive and it gave us the show we have known and loved.

Ok, “this is evolution.” So true, on the science side and the personal side. Sarah and Helena have always been the outliers. It was a quirk of biology that lead to twins. And then their birth mother was willing and able to keep them safely away from Neolution. And they are actually able to conceive. None of these facts were intended or planned for. Evolution comes from gene mutations. Sometimes mutations are harmful, but sometimes they’re beneficial or neutral, and they get passed on and help the species become something new. If that happens enough times, you get a whole new species. There’s nothing intentional or graceful about it. You can’t plan for it, and you can’t do much to control it. “PT” tried to, and it never worked out for him. There were always other changes, or not enough change, or the small detail of people being people and thus not entirely controllable. He was beaten by the results of the uncontrollable parts of evolution, an unexpected twin who unexpectedly became a mother. And Sarah has evolved as a person because of both of those things, as well as everything else. In killing “PT" she completes the final step of not just no longer running from her problems, but truly stepping out from underneath them.

Finally, let’s talk happy ending. Finishing this was hard—I’ve had trouble taking a long view of anything this weekend, in light of the events in Charlottesville, VA. This is the first time I’ve sat entirely still in at least a day. It’s made me even more glad that this show, which has always contained darkness and some shocking violence, let the “core four” of clones and most of their nearest and dearest survive. There were deaths along the way, and a shit ton of suffering, but they could have gone much darker about the ending for the sake of Realism and I’m damn glad they didn’t. The show was about finding the light and hope and family amidst all of this darkness. Sarah has been trying to be allowed/allow herself to be a part of her family since she got on that train. It doesn’t look like what she thought it would, but neither does she anymore. This is the version of family that works for this version of Sarah, and it works for the show too. Everything’s not perfect. S is dead, Rachel will never be a part of the family. They’ve all suffered massively. But they made it, and they have each other for support moving forward. Bad things can end. Good things can endure. That hasn’t always been an explicit message of the show, but it is the one they chose to build to.

That’s all, folks. For more weekly reactions, check out Kris’s GoT series. For more ass-kicking genre women, check out Wynonna Earp. For more of Miri have a lot of feeling, check out The Bold Type (and I guess this blog in general).

[rippedjeansandloudmusic]

elysian: capitolo primo

RENAMED FROM: REVERSE PSYCHOLOGY!!!!!!! 

Nico’s had a pretty shitty life. His best friend, sister, and mother all dead, and an abandoned father all coupled with being sent off to a new country, he isn’t sure if it’s cruel humor or sick coincidence that he got his soulmate mark at the worst of times.

Will’s had a boring life. Living what’s seemingly the same day on repeat, he wants out. He wants excitement.

Here’s the story of how they met. [read on ao3]

Nico di Angelo hated being forced to do something.

It was something he was raised with; something that was always a part of him. He never understood why, though it was probably him just unconsciously following in his older sister’s, Bianca’s, footsteps.

She was always the outgoing one, wanting to get up and do things instead of sitting back and watching them happen. Like when she would watch TV. She would see someone do wheelies on their bike and immediately say “Bye mom and dad, I’m going to learn how to do a wheelie.”

The best part of their relationship was based on this foundation; the wanting to do and not watch.

This was the exact thing that got her killed.

The day was about as normal as could be. Nico woke up in the cot below Bianca’s, stretching and jumping up the ladder to shake his sister’s unconscious body.

Bianca was a weird girl, to say the least. All around town, there were whispers about the thirteen-year-old girl who couldn’t let her eleven-year-old brother go. They were practically attached at the hip. They were a package deal, you got both of them or neither or them.

Her hair was pretty lengthy, something Nico enjoyed (but his mom wouldn’t let him grow his hair out), with a bare face and almost always with a smile. Most girls her age were enveloping themselves in makeup and boys. Bianca preferred to stay at a distance where she could watch instead of do; one of the only exceptions to her number one rule: Don’t sit back and watch when you can get up and do.

She had that inked all over the walls above her bed. In cursive, Italian, English, some random language her and her brother had made up…

She loved that phrase.

So, it was no surprise when it showed up on her arm. Bianca didn’t have a soulmate. At least, that’s what she told Nico. So, the things she loved showed up on her own arm. She called it poetic, something Nico understood but didn’t really understand. It was odd. He understood what poetic meant, and how she could think that phrase was poetic, but he didn’t understand why. Why that phrase, and why now?

Nico looked like your typical on-the-rise teen. His hair was cut short and his eyes were always open, wanting to swallow all the information he could get off the world. He was always hungry for exploration, something he probably got from his sister.

After he dragged a begrudging Bianca from the bed and down the stairs of their rickety old mansion (this was ancient. Dad had said that it was passed down throughout the generations, and Nico believed him. Though, in secret, Bianca would say how That’s utter bullshit. He probably got this in some knockoff auction or something.

Nico didn’t understand why she hated dad so much. She said he was too young to understand.

Though, she never seemed close to dad.)

Their father was at the kitchen counter, arms wrapped around Maria di Angelo and face buried in her neck. Bianca just rolled her eyes, clearly done with their actions, and walked around them to the fridge door.

Dad didn’t acknowledge her, only running up to Nico and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Nico!” He screamed, hands racing up and Nico’s sides. Nico thrashed, eventually getting out of his father’s grip and running up to hide behind Bianca. Bianca smiled, putting him in a headlock and rubbing her knuckles against his head.

“Don’t come over here and expect to be saved!” She yelled in between bursts of laughter.

Maria watched the two from beside her husband, hiding a smile behind her hand.

After breakfast Bianca pulled Nico out the front door, only half paying attention to her mother yelling at them from the door. She blew Maria a kiss through her hand, screaming how they’ll be back for lunch.

They were now in new clothes, running through the streets of Venice with their hands in the sky, laughing and playing with other kids that would come by.

The sidewalks were crowded, and they could see boats as they floated underneath bridges they would run across. Bianca had hitched a ride with a girl’s family who she apparently knew from school, while Nico sat beside her and they tried to push each other into the water.

It was great.

It was normal.

They got back at lunch time, just like she said they would, and immediately dove into their lunches. Maria asked how their exploration was, and Bianca watched and Nico raved about how There are monsters in the water! Don’t look at me like that, Bianca. They’re HUGE!

They all knew he was joking, but no one asked him to stop.

They went back out again that night; dancing in stores they would come across, sometimes they would just start yelling songs at the tops of their lungs and watch as people stared at them with loving eyes, wishing they could be that young again. That happy again.

It wasn’t until they got home, at around six, that things went wrong.

“Bianca!” Nico yelled, darting into a sprint up their street. It took Bianca a minute to realize what caught his line of sight.

“Holy shit!” She yelled, running to catch up to Nico.

Their house was on fire.

You could see the flames licking up the side of the home, tearing away at old, charted paint and old foundations. You could see the windows breaking under pressure and could hear floors falling.

Their father stood outside the ruckus, on his knees and seemingly passed out. Nico ran over.

“Dad!” He screamed, hoping to wake him. He smacked him once. Twice. But nothing.

“Mom’s still inside…” Bianca whispered to herself, making sure Nico didn’t hear. She cast a look at him, how he was leaning over Hades with a terrified look on his face. There were groups of people crowding around them, forming a ring. Someone had their phone out, calling the police. She could see one of their neighbors - she didn’t know their name - tearing Nico from Hades’ unconscious body. She looked back at the burning home.

“Mom…” She said once more.

Then she darted.

Nico saw her soon after, running headfirst back into the flames.

“Bianca!” He yelled, trying to tear the man’s arms from around his waist. Instead, they tightened, keeping him rooted to his place on the once green grass surrounding his home.

“BIANCA!”  He screamed again, only now noticing the tears staining his face. That didn’t keep him from repeating the chorus until minutes (probably minutes) (it could’ve easily been hours) later when he was pulled aside by someone, he doesn’t know or remember who, and was ushered into a vehicle (he doesn’t remember what) and reassured. He doesn’t remember what he was being reassured of.

His entire family was dead.

He didn’t need reassuring…

He needed his sister back.

His arm burned, which didn’t make sense. He wasn’t hit by any flames (that he knows of), so what was happening?

He rolled his arm up, tears still falling down his face, before seeing something that was being seared into his skin.

A sun.

A sun.

How fucking ironic. Just as his entire family is gone his soulmate appears.

Fucking.

Great.

+

Will Solace wasn’t sure why soulmates are even a thing.

He loves his family, and they love him in return. He has amazing siblings, Kayla and Austin, and he doesn’t need anyone else. Does he want anyone else? Well, that’s debatable. He wants to feel this thing that everyone describes as the best feeling in the world. It’s like you’ve just down seven energy drinks, his older brother says. Austin had met his soulmate at a young age. Sixteen, to be exact. A high that you can’t get down from. I feel like I don’t need five-hour energies when I’m with her.

Will think’s that cool. Feeling like you never need to sleep or anything? Someone you would die for?

That’s the appeal he got from it.

What he didn’t like, however, was that this… this person was chosen for you. He felt as though the point of living was to make your own choices; your own mistakes.

So, if you're meant to find your own place in the world, why did someone already pair you up with someone?

That’s what he didn’t understand.

His normal day was extremely boring. He got up to go to school, then got home seven hours later to study, then go to sleep. Repeat the cycle the next day. That was until the weekend when he would study on repeat and watch weird videos on YouTube.

It was boring.

He hated boring.

He wanted to go out and do something. He wanted to explore; run down the street just to see how fast he could go. Light something on fire to see how fast it would go out.

He wondered, occasionally, if he soulmate felt this too.

But he didn’t dwell on it.

The first tattoo he got, he was ten. Playing with Austin, who was now fifteen, outside. He didn’t have the best relationship with his siblings, besides with Kayla, but Austin was the man of the house. Their dad had walked out a long time ago, leaving his mom, Naomi, alone with three kids and no child support.

Thank god he wasn’t his mom’s soulmate. Apparently, her original soulmate had died long ago. Will was, even though he kinda hated it, a mistake. A one-night-stand went wrong.

His mom didn’t treat him like it was his fault, like in the movies. She told him about his birth father, and how they were alike and how they weren’t. She didn’t hate him or cast him out.

He loved his mother.

Austin had thrown him the ball. Will caught it with nonchalance, as though sports came naturally to him, and threw it back. This time, though, when Austin threw the ball back it rolled back into the woods behind them.

“I’ll get it!” Will called back, running forward into the wood.

He got pricked with many different thorns, one or two catching on his hoodie before he ran back to Austin.

Will’s arm burned, something he didn’t particularly like enduring, but he powered through it, tossing the ball back and forth with Austin until he noticed something was up.

“What’s wrong?” Austin had asked, walking forward with a hand on his hip. Will shook his head. His eyes lingered on Austin’s forearm, though. He had just recently gotten his tattoo - a small compass with what appeared to be prayer beads. Will shook his head.

“Nothing.”

Austin rolled his eyes, walking over and grabbing Will’s wrist. Will quickly pulled his arm back, wincing at the pain where Austin’s hand had touched his wrist.

“Will.” He chided, reaching forward and grabbing his wrist again. Will hissed but didn’t pull away, allowing his older brother to pull his sleeve back.

When his hoodie was discarded (it was a bother), Austin’s eyes promptly grew to the size of saucers.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

“Ma!” He called back towards the house, not looking away from Will’s hand. “Ma, you’ve got to see this!”

Will scrunched his brows, his eyes only now fluttering down to his forearm.

His tattoo.

But… but that wasn’t supposed to come for a few years. Why… why was it -

“Ma! Ma, Will’s got his tattoo!”

Will almost didn’t notice when Austin began tugging him back towards their small home. It was in one of those suburban areas with homes clustered all around, he wasn’t sure what it was called, and theirs was probably one of the smallest. There were barely enough bedrooms for them, Kayla having her own and the boys having to share, and the old yellow paint was chipping from the sides.

The tattoo was something Will couldn’t quite see. There were also scribbles under it. It was a rough sketch of two women.

Bianca e Maria di Angelo

He wasn’t sure if they were words or names, but probably names. Also probably for the two women on his arm now.

Naomi came flying down the stairs towards her two sons.

“What do you mean he already has his tattoo? You just got yours, Austin.” Naomi had a slight southern accent, something that affected her o’s and t’s a bit. And she rarely said you all. Always yall.

“But he did, Ma. See?”

Naomi slid her glasses up her nose a bit, taking a fleeting look at her son’s arm. Her eyes widened, immediately batting Austin’s hand away.

“Don’t touch it! That’s gonna hurt, Austin. More than yours did.”

Will winced at the tattoos began morphing, changing. The girl on the left - who Will assumed was Bianca - her photo began changing, now more like words making up a person.

Non sedersi e guardare quando si può alzarsi e fare. It was that simple phrase repeated all throughout her photo, creating her face and eyes. The ink would get darker to symbolize the shadows that crossed her face. Words made her freckles, lips, eyebrows, cheekbones.

Will would dare say she was attractive. But, not truly. He knew she wasn’t his soulmate.

His mother googled the words (after they deciphered them, anyway) and recited them from the screen soon after.

“Don’t sit and watch when you can get up and do. Humph,” she walked back over to her son. “Your soulmate sure has an odd form of loving.”

“Maybe they’re his family,” Will tried to defend them, though he was quite curious himself. Why were they showing up now? He’d never heard of this happening before, so why now?

He couldn’t come up with an explanation.

+

Nico had to move to the states.

They tried to look for his father, tried to find him, but Hades di Angelo had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Everyone was looking for this guy; but nothing.

Nico was left alone.

He was sent to a foster home in upstate New York. The worst part, though? Besides being all alone? He couldn’t speak English.

He could tell people were talking to each other, their lips were moving and a sound was coming out, though to him all it sounded like was gibberish. Words and sounds mixing together.

“Quando posso andare a letto? Sono stanco…” When can I go to bed? I’m tired…

“In un minuto, Nico,” the lady spat back at him, making him want to retreat into the wall. She was cranky. Nico immediately disliked her.

He rubbed his wrist, thinking of his soulmate.

Did he live in America? Where they here, in New York?

Nico wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He remembers a conversation he had with… well, they talked about how he didn’t like the girl next door.

“Why not? She’s pretty,” she asked, throwing on a long skirt from her drawer. Nico shrugged.

“I don’t know. Though, her brother’s kinda cute, right?”

Bianca just shot him a smile.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Nico?”

Nico blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes and looking up at the new lady. She seemed nice. Her hair was black, pulled up into a ponytail high above her head. Nico walked forward, not bothering to be subtle, and looked up at her. She was short, not much taller than Nico, and he cleared his throat, looking back at the woman who was meant to be translating for him until he got settled. Honestly, he just wanted to be left alone for a moment. All these new things… it was too much.

“Signora, potrei andare in camera mia. Voglio... solo essere lasciato da solo.” Ma’am, may I please go to my room?. I just… I want to be left alone.

She looked at the other woman. She was sending Nico a sad look, her blue eyes filled with sympathy. Nico had gotten that look enough, and wanted it to go away.

He rubbed his forearm again.

She looked at his arm and raised a brow. She turned to the other woman and exchanged a few words. Looks were tossed back and forth. The blue eyed woman got a shocked look, though it didn’t last long.

Soon after Nico was walked inside.

The home was small. There was a crowded walkway that leads to an open area with a round table in the center and a window across from it. There were things on the fridge, papers hung with magnets. Nico raised a brow though didn’t ask. Partially because he didn’t know how. He knew a few words here and there. He had learned with Bianca. She always wanted to travel to the Americas… she wanted to become a famous piano player like their mother once was.

Nico blew on his eyes (or tried) to stop the tears from falling. The ones that fell he flicked away.

He bit his lip in concentration, trying to muster up the few words he knew.

“Uh…” he looked at the young woman. She couldn’t have been older than the mid thirties.

“Um, bedroom?” He could hear his own accent, thick with Venice remembrance. Sally looked a bit surprised, though Nico didn’t question it. He’s been getting a lot of questioning looks over the past few days.

She waved him over, leading him down another crowded hallway towards two rooms on the very end of the hall.

“Percy!” She called out. Nico was a bit weirded out. Why would anyone name their kid Percy?

“I’m comin’ mom!”

He wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, though next thing he knew he was stood in front of an older boy. He didn’t have an angelic glow, or a godly presence, though he did look… different. Nico wasn’t sure if that was positive or not though.

Percy’s eyes widened when he made eye contact with Nico and he flung himself backward into his room, grabbing what appeared to be a laptop and appearing back into the hall. He and the other woman exchanged a few words, Percy tapping away at his laptop, before spinning it around and showing it to Nico.

Ciao! Mi chiamo Percy, e mia madre è Sally. Come ti chiami?Hello! My name is Percy, and my mother is Sally. What’s your name?

Nico raised both brows at the family. He tried to play Sally’s name on his tongue though couldn’t exactly. Sally just smiled at her son, gesturing for Nico to tap out a response. It was a bit odd, he wasn’t used to the keys, though he eventually figured it out.

Dove sono? Where am I?

Sally’s eyes widened, and she tapped something out.

Non sai dove sei?  You don’t know where you are?

Nico shook his head, taking the laptop back quickly and tapping away again.

No, non so solo che la sua casa sia. Conosco l'America perchè qui? No, I just don’t know whose house this is. I know, America, though why here?

And that was how they communicated. For a good amount of time, too. Just standing in the doorway of this Percy guy’s room.

Eventually, Sally explained how Nico’s father’s brother was Percy’s dad, and they were the closest relatives he had.

That’s great… Nico thought to himself.

Soon after he walked into the bedroom he was apparently going to be sharing with Percy Jackson.

There was a bunk bed with metal rods in the furthest corner of the room. The room was covered in glow-in-the-dark stars, and there was a shaggy carpet laid dormant in the middle of the room. A makeshift desk in front of a window that looked out to what appeared to be a fire escape.

“Ironia iritata..” Irritated irony (it’s a loose translation)

Nico murmured to himself, thankful Percy couldn’t hear him.

“What?” The boy in question asked, though Nico just waved him off. He walked over to the bunk bed, gesturing to them. Percy said something and Nico just glared at him for a moment. Percy’s brain clicked and he gestured to the top bunk, in which Nico climbed up with his single duffle bag. Not much could be salvaged from the fire, though most of what was were just sentimental stuff.

Nico was glad it was only the important things.

He reached into his bag, pulling out a case of thumbtacks he had stolen from the mean translation lady. He also reached in and pulled out an old tin, one that once belonged to his sister, one that was only partly charred from the fire. He opened the top, flipping through the photos.

He looked down to Percy. He was standing in the center of the room awkwardly, holding his laptop and shifting slightly.

“Uh…” he muttered. Nico rolled his eyes, though didn’t look away. Something about this boy... infatuated him. Though Nico swatted those thoughts away because of first of all: cousins, ew. And secondly…

Oh shit.

Bianca had warned him that not everyone would accept him, whatever that meant. So, what was he supposed to do? What if they didn’t accept him? She told him to be wary of people who may not like him for who he likes.

“Uh, do you want me to leave?” Percy asked, gesturing to the door. Nico raised a brow and Percy took that and ran with it, leaving the bedroom.

Nico sighed.

“Great…” he muttered, unconsciously slipping into his new language. English.

+

Will was still bored.

He had turned thirteen last week. Now, for most people, that’s amazing.

But not for Will.

Nothing changed. He didn’t grow a foot, or suddenly have a bunch of friends. Nothing felt necessarily different.

He hated it.

Everything felt so bland. Like it was the same record on repeat for eternity.

Something new showed up on his arm, though. A name, Sally. He wasn’t sure who Sally was, though her name was inked in blue, the end of the Y being attached to a sea shell. That wasn’t everything, though.

There was also a camera and a pair of headphones. And old tin can that Will was sure someone probably set fire too. The tattoo of the two women hadn’t faded or changed, which Will thought was odd. Don’t most people’s faces change over time?

For a while, there was a pen, a weird cap pen with a word in ancient Greek. Riptide. He wasn’t sure why that was important.

The newest addition was the one that everyone found to be odd.

It was a word. Soulmate. Will didn’t understand why someone would love Soulmate, though it did make him curious.

Was his soulmate in love with the thought of a soulmate?

It was weird.

Everyone looked at it, wanting to catch a look at what was causing so much confusion. Will didn’t have an answer. Neither did WikiHow, since he had checked.

He found out he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up.

He also joined a new sport at school. Baseball. He overheard his mother talking about how her soulmate once played baseball and figured he should give it a try. Just for the hell of it.

He wasn’t very good at baseball, though.

He mostly stuck to his books; to the things he could control. He couldn’t control how his eyes seemed to always drift towards other boy’s in the locker room, or how his tattoo had shown up years before it was supposed to, or how he almost always had a really, really sad vibe. He was an optimist or tried to be, though he couldn’t shake off that depression.

He hated being sad. It was too sad for him.

So, he buried himself into his work.

It was the one thing he could control.

+

Nico just turned fifteen.

He didn’t understand how it was that much different than being eleven. I mean, they’re just numbers. What’re they meant to represent, anyway? How many years you survived? How many years of pain you’ve been through?

He’s started to branch out a bit more, no thanks to Perseus Jackson.

Percy had gotten a new friend, someone by the name Jason. Nico wasn’t sure what to think of him, yet. He had weird glasses that looked foreign on his face, and a scar above his lip that told the story of his weird diets as a child (ex. staples).

He had retreated into his wardrobe, though.

Mostly black pants and a bomber jacket. He’s been wearing the same shoes since he was fourteen, and wasn’t planning on giving them up.

He’s also learned more English. His accent was still there, though not as prominent as years prior. Most of the time he would cuss Jackson out in Italian so he couldn’t respond, and it was times like those that he was proud of his mother tongue.

He was also diagnosed with depression.

He had high days and low ones. Ones where he would love to go skydiving and ones where he just wanted to crawl up into a ball and never untangle himself.

He still had nightmares about the fire.

Though he was getting better.

His tattoo had morphed. Now it had a baseball bat and medical textbooks. There was a particular word… uh, ceraunophile. Someone who loves thunderstorms and lightning, apparently.

Nico would have to say he’s one as well.

Something about the imperfect pitches of thunder that rock their shitty apartment. About how Percy would cower under his blanket fort like he was protected from the outside world from inside.

He was going to university next year.

Nico still wasn’t sure what he thought about that.

Percy wasn’t his best friend by any means. He was more like a brother. A brother that he wishes would stop going on about his stupid tattoo with a book and blueprints on it for Pete's sake it’s annoying.

Nico wore the bomber jacket to cover his tattoos. He wasn’t ashamed of them, of course not, it was just something he liked to keep for himself. Something he felt was meant for him and no one else. Showing it off just felt… wrong.

He would sometimes sit on the desk before the window in their room, writing down different words and melodies, hoping to make something out of them one day. You could never see him without his headphones - he could escape through those. He didn’t have a specific type of preferred genre, just a little bit of everything.

Like now

He was watching new ink stretch up his arm, curling around his elbow. It was a light shade of pink, like a string, that seemed to be in constant motion around his arm. It spun like that, round and round and round and round, for about an hour. Soon after it stopped, etching a word into his skin.

Happiness

Damn.

Nico stole a look at Percy. He was out cold under the covers in his bottom bunk, so Nico quietly strolled up to his bunk and collapsed onto his mattress.

Pictures.

Pictures and glow in the dark stars.

He had thumbtacked all the saved photos from the fire to his ceiling, covering a vast majority of the wall. There was one in which Nico had cut out Hades’ face, making him virtually unknown. There were other photos of him and Bianca - most of them were him and Bianca - dancing. Nico never thought about that. How he and his sister could just dance in the middle of Venice, doing whatever, and how nobody acted like it was out of place. Sure, he got a few odd looks, but he learned not to care.

From Bianca.

He sat up, running his thumb against something he’d carved into the wood about three years ago.

Don’t sit back and watch when you can get up and do.

It was in Italian, though he could still read it perfectly fine.

He collapsed backward into his bed once more, closing his eyes and falling asleep to the fake sounds of chirping birds and the smell of grass, when in reality it was the sound of sirens and the smell of shitty Yankee candles.

Chapter Two -> [x]

[sevralships]

“Just Because You Can” Part 5 of 7, Chapters 17-19

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7 FIN]

The Pines triplets, Mabel, Dipper, and Jolene, have always been best friends. But lately, there’s been some distance growing between the Mystery Kids, due in part to the forbidden feelings with which they are each struggling. How will they manage to see eye to eye, when torn between wanting each other and craving adventure?

(This is a new AU that I’ve been calling Jolene AU, devised by myself and @handleonthescandal​ after one of us asked the question “What if Mabel and Dipper were triplets but with another sister?”. Although this AU is similar, it is not connected to Double Dippin’ AU, and Jolene is in no way connected to Tyrone.)

Shoutout to @sirwaddlesesquire for being the trustiest squire and an insightful, helpful, and supportive beta.

Mostly SFW, mostly angst with some action/adventure and a little bit of fluff, tw incest

Fic under the cut, enjoy!

Chapter 17: Flight

Jolene’s brain stalled like a car in mud. This can’t be happening, she told herself impatiently, I’m hallucinating. She’d been pretty freaked, but she was sure that once she’d stopped the tears and washed her face five or six times and recited to herself every reason that she couldn’t kiss her brother, that she was back to normal. The fan in the bathroom was pretty loud, but she had thought she’d heard Mabel out there. She had braced herself to see Mabel, and opened the door, only to find bona fide proof that she was still hardcore hallucinating.

She took in the scene before her. Trying to break down the hallucination and find reality. Mabel and Dipper were kissing in Dipper’s doorway. Simple as that, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Like a boyfriend kissing his girlfriend goodnight by her front door. Her arms draped over his neck, his arms pulling her close against him. Their lips moving together, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like they were two halves of the same whole and being together was more natural than being apart.

No way, she reminded herself, No way, this can’t be real. Find the flaws. Something was off, for sure. It took a second for Jo to realize Mabel was wearing black. There it was, yeah. Yeah, no way Mabel was wearing all black. It wasn’t even glittery black. Mabel hadn’t even worn all black to their grandpa’s funeral, opting instead for a respectfully funereal but much more Mabel-y navy with a sequin-trimmed blushy-pink cardigan. Mabel Pines did not do black.

And Dipper seemed off too. He was so…poised. Jo almost smiled at the idea of ‘Dipper’ and ‘poise’ in the same thought. Dipper was cradling Mabel in a leading-man kinda kiss, one hand in her hair while the other possessively gripped her waist. It was the kinda kiss that ended up on movie posters for Victorian-era romances that would bore you to tears. Very not Dipper, Jo comforted herself, Dipper would definitely be all bumping teeth and stammering stepping on toes, not so suave. She rubbed her eyes, confident that when she looked again, her mind would quit playing this cruel joke on her.

But when she opened her eyes, they were still there. If anything, the kiss had deepened, their brows softening with tenderness, their hands gripping a little tighter. Her heart started to speed up again, banging on her ribs angrily, as she stared. Softly, almost too quiet to hear, Mabel sighed. Sighed against Dipper’s lips. Dipper’s lips, which only moments ago had hovered over Jo’s own, tempting her to kiss them. But she hadn’t, after all, she couldn’t, he was her brother and her best friend and he would have pushed her away and wiped his mouth and scorned her and–

He isn’t. She admitted to herself, He isn’t pushing her away. He isn’t mad. He isn’t weirded out. He’s kissing her back. She took a silent step into the hallway. Mabel isn’t me, though. He would have pushed me away. It was like a knife in her quickly speeding heart. He actually wanted Mabel. But��� Mabel? Of course Jo knew Mabel idolized Dipper a little, for all her teasing, she was devoted to him. Indeed, Jolene had had murmurings of suspicion that Mabel wanted Dipper, but still. Seeing Mabel not push him away… Who kissed who? She found herself wondering, her eyes flashing desperately back and forth between them. It doesn’t matter, the knife in her chest reminded her, it doesn’t matter. Now that they have each other, why would either of them need you?

Mabel and Dipper leapt suddenly apart, and it took Jo a moment to realize she had cried out. Two sets of brown eyes were on her, wide and panicked. ‘Deer in headlights’ would have been a gross understatement. Jo’s heart was racing, fast and irregular, competing with her tongue’s attempt at forming words, “What- what in the- how?”

“Jo, it’s–” Dipper began shakily.

“It’s what?” Jo demanded, “You guys were kissing.” She cringed inwardly at the way her own accusation echoed the taunting ‘k-i-s-s-i-n-g’ of a child’s taunt.

“I can explain,” Mabel pleaded, her skin deathly pale against her strangely dark clothes.

“Oh, I’d like to hear that,” Jo said, crossing her arms over her crazed heart.

“It-it…”Mabel cast her eyes down, “It was… It didn’t mean anything! It was just–”

“…it didn’t?” Dipper asked, his voice softly devastated. Mabel’s eyes rose to meet his and Jo’s blood ran cold. It did mean something, she knew, More than I thought…More than…They don’t want each other, they love each other.

“Dipper…” Mabel begged, torn between trying to appease her siblings’ conflicting hopes, “It’s so complicated…”

“You know what, it’s fine!” Jolene interrupted, surprised by the vitriol in her own voice, “You guys don’t owe me an explanation! I’m just your sister, what the hell do I know?!” She took a couple steps towards them, “Discuss on your own time whether that-that-meant anything, because you know what? I don’t fucking care!”

“Jo-jo,” Dipper implored, “Please, please listen to me. Mabes and I are as confused as you are. Please, we love you–”

Jo laughed in Dipper’s face and he cringed, “Oh that’s rich!” she stood directly in front of him now and he could hardly believe the fire burning in her eyes, “You’re confused, huh? Being confused makes you start kissing your sister, huh? Because I coulda sworn being excited nearly had the same effect! Guess anything might inspire some sister-smooching!”

Shit shit shit, so that is what happened, Dipper swallowed hard, thinking of how Jo had scurried from his room, “Jo, it’s not–”

“What’s she talking about?” Mabel asked, her head cocked to the side.

“Jo, calm down!” Dipper begged, “Can’t we just talk about this?”

“Calm down?” Jo repeated shrilly and Mabel winced, shaking her head, seriously Dip, never tell a girl to calm down, “Why-why-would I be calm? I just lost everything!” Jo pushed Dipper hard and his tailbone hit the ground painfully, as Jo strode past him into his room. She’d always had a short fuse, but Dipper had never in his life seen her so incensed, “You don’t fucking understand! You-you, neither of you!”

“Jolene…” Mabel said from the hall, stepping into Dipper’s doorway.

“Don’t,” Jolene screamed, silencing them both, “You don’t get it! You-you matter! You’ve always been the ones that mattered! You saved the fucking world, what the fuck have I done!?” She smacked her chest to punctuate her reference to herself, “You’ve always looked out for me and put up with me but you never needed me! I needed you, my world, my happiness depended on you, but I’ve only been a drain and a nuisance!” Angry tears were streaming down her face, her voice alternately shrill and thick with crying, “I almost got you killed, Dipper, and…and I…” Her words faltered as they were overpowered by her tears, “And you, you have each other! And-and that’s, that’s just great! You don’t-don’t need me, ‘s’time I learned to not need you!”

In a blur, Jo was out the room and flying down the stairs, leaving Dipper and Mabel blinking at her absence.

Chapter 18: No Time To Lose

The sound of the car pealing out of the driveway woke Dipper up and he sprang to his feet. His eyes went at once to the spot on his bed that he knew would empty, “Ohh, shit shit shit shit shit,” he whined, pressing the heels of his hands to his brow.

“Dipper… what…?” Mabel asked softly from the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“Fuck!” Dipper shouted, kicking the leg of his bed. He turned on Mabel angrily, “What the hell was that?”

Mabel flinched in the face of his sudden anger, “Why are you yelling at me?” she asked, stung.

“Why am I yelling at you?! Seriously?!” Dipper gestured towards the hall, “Why did you yell at me? Why did you kiss me? Why did you try to say it…it…meant…”

As usual, Dipper’s anger burnt out fast, and Mabel tried to offer him a reassuring smile, “I’m sorry, it didn’t….it didn’t not…I was trying, to, just, with Jo–”

Dipper shook his head, like a dog shaking off water, and held up both hands, “We don’t have time to talk about this right now. We need to go after Jo.”

“Dip,” Mabel put her hands on his shoulders, trying to meet his eyes, “Maybe she just needs some time to cool off–”

“No, no way,” Dipper brushed her hands off, pacing his room, “Jo’s not going to cool off, she’s going to fucking get herself killed.” He held his face in his hands without slowing down his pacing.

“What are you talking about, Dip?” Mabel asked, exhausted with her siblings’ cryptic ravings, one right after the other.

“She-she took her pack!” Dipper said, pointing at his bed, “She was packing it before the interview, saying-saying she wanted to go after the Lone Pine Mountain Devils!” Dipper rolled his eyes at Mabel’s blank stare, “They’re these really fucking mean bird-dinosaur-raptor things that no one’s ever gotten a picture of because if they see you, they kill you! One whiff of meat and bam, they’re tearing your frickin’ face off!”

“Fun…” Mabel said drily.

“Well, that’s where Jo’s going!” Dipper’s voice cracked, “And she took the Chariot and she speeds like a crazy person, especially when she’s mad, and I’ve never seen her this mad, and I don’t even know why she’s this mad and we don’t have a car–”

“Yes, we do,” Mabel interrupted, and it was Dipper’s turn to stare at her blankly, “Well, you guys were my ride and when you didn’t come to the play, I had to use McMahon’s music van again and–”

“Awesome, can we use it?” Dipper cut in, ignoring the guilt trip about the play.

“Um, yeah,” Mabel said, watching as Dipper pulled his pack from his closet and started filling it on autopilot, having done it a million times.

He glanced over at her watching him, “Don’t just stand there, go get your pack. We have no time to lose!”

With a small eye-roll that Dipper didn’t see, Mabel left to go follow his instructions. Entering her and Jolene’s room gave her a moment’s pause. Her heart twinged looking at Jolene’s side of the room, the disheveled green striped bedsheets, the wall plastered with posters and her drawings. She felt the urge to climb into Jo’s bed, pull the green comforter over her head and go to sleep. She’d been up early and worked hard on the play, on top of that the mess with Jo, and the fight with Dipper, and the kiss… She felt her cheeks redden at the thought of the kiss. She wished she could take it back and go back to how things had been yesterday, but at the same time, she wished she could walk over to his room right now and kiss him again. And again and again, and not stop kissing him until their parents got home.

She pushed these thoughts away as she went over to her closet, digging through the purses and shoes and miscellany on the floor looking for her pack. How long has it been since I was invited on an adventure thingy? She asked herself. Finally she pulled it out, the pink camouflage emerging from the piles of more often worn accessories. Some stuff was still inside it from whenever she’d last used it, some rope, a water-warped map, no longer readable, the round pink canteen that matched the pack. She shook it and it sloshed, and she made a face, wondering how nasty water would taste after years in a plastic bottle. Canteen in hand, pack slung over one shoulder, Mabel trotted quickly downstairs to the kitchen.

She was filling the canteen at the sink when Dipper thumped down the stairs, he peeked his head in, “Are you ready yet?”

“Almost. Water,” She said, trying not to be short with him, “The keys are by the door, with the ‘Phantom of the Opera’ keychain.”

“McMahon is such a dork,” Dipper muttered tensely, turning away, “Hurry up, Mabes!” he shouted back from the door.

Mabel rolled her eyes again but did hurry. She was leaving the kitchen, twisting the cap onto her canteen when she had an idea. She turned back and opened the fridge, remembering the conversation she’d had with Dad that morning. She’d eaten breakfast before Dipper and Jo had gotten up, and had handled Dad’s well-meaning awkwardness all on her own. He’d talked to her about the recipe he’d found for Beef Bourguignon that he was looking forward to trying this week. She opened the fridge and silently thanked Dad. She grabbed one of the two shrink-wrapped packages of stew meat and stuffed it into her pack. If these things are as bloodthirsty as Dip said, she reasoned with herself as she left the house, we might be happy for a distraction.

Chapter 19: Brave

The Mystery Machine purred under Jo’s shaking hands. It was content and happy to be speeding along the highway, oblivious to the agitation of its driver. She’d planned and dreamed about this trip enough that the route was seared into her brain. She figured that was a good thing. There was no way her mind could have followed the tiny text and tangled lines of a map. For once planning wasn’t a waste of time, Jo conceded, thinking of Dipper’s obsessive lists and itineraries. The thought curdled like milk upon contact with the acidity of her pain. Maybe I’ll never see one those stupid plans again.

Jo hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it seemed impossible that she would ever see either of her best friends again. It wasn’t as if she could go back home after all this. And that was if there was any of her left to go back home at all. Her stomach turned as she realized she hoped there would be nothing left. She saw the Lone Pine Mountain Devils in her mind, flapping their grand wings and snapping their jaws. It made her sick, but she hoped they were as ferocious as everyone said.

She moaned aloud in the privacy of the Mystery Machine. She felt too much at once to be quiet. For the first time in her life, she had to admit to herself that she wanted it to end. And why? She was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed, mortified. As she never had been before.  I can’t face them, especially Dipper, I can’t I can’t I can’t. Not Dipper who was so logical, so responsible, so reasonable. He must think I’m such an idiot for blowing up like that. And she knew she couldn’t bear to see the pity in Mabel’s eyes again, the desperate appeasing pity that had made her say it meant nothing.

‘It didn’t?’ Dipper’s wounded voice echoed in her mind, lancing through her embarrassment and her anger to the heart of the problem. It had meant something. It had meant so much. She knew, she knew intimately, how much it had meant. It would have meant just the same thing to her.

How long had she harbored this unwanted but undeniable passion within herself? How many times had she snuck glances, touches, sniffs? She had so hated it in herself, so feared that she would be found out. So terrified that if they only knew what she was feeling, they would never forgive her. But she couldn’t have predicted it playing out like this. It doesn’t make any sense! It isn’t fair! They may forgive her, but how could she ever forgive herself?

She’d had a chance. She’d had a chance at getting what she wanted. Dipper had held her in his arms and looked down at her with something a hell of a lot like desire in his eyes. He’d been so handsome, his parted lips so incredibly tempting. If she had just let herself respond, let herself go to him like iron to a magnet, he would be hers right now. Would he? She wondered, Or was it never really me he wanted? Even so, she wished she had kissed him while she had the chance. When she’d run to the bathroom, it hadn’t been with any thought to whether or not there would ever be another opportunity.

You’re full of shit, Jo, she scorned herself,  You were never gonna make a move. You were just going to yearn and pine in pathetic silence. But not Mabel. No, never Mabel. Matchmaker, love at first sight, summer romance Mabel would never have been content to sit by and wish away the days for anyone, even her brother. Some part of Jo was sure that Mabel had kissed Dipper. She’d always been pushier, flirtier, more socially adept than her triplets. The Dipper that Jo had left standing nonplussed in his room wouldn’t have turned around and kissed someone else. As much as it felt that way, as much as it stung, he would have been too discouraged, too confused. Mabel had kissed him, no doubt. Typical, Jo admitted to herself, Mabel could have her choice of men, of course I’ve only ever wanted the two of them. She moaned again, this time the one word, “Freeeeeak.”

Would she have been able to kiss Mabel? She couldn’t help wondering. After all, her feelings for Mabel were older, had developed first and been undeniable. She could avoid thinking about Dipper, but she had never been able to set aside how she loved and longed for Mabel. No, she admitted, No, that made it even harder. There was a different brand of rejection at stake. Being pushed away by Mabel would have broken something else in her entirely. Who could bear being turned away by the better version of themself?

If you hadn’t been such a fucking coward, Jolene, she bullied herself, accelerating even more, If you hadn’t run away from him kissing you, you wouldn’t have to run away from him kissing her! It was hard to believe she had been so elated only hours before. High from the Mystery Monthly interview, basking in Dipper’s excitement, that version of Jo felt a million miles away. Why did you run? Aren’t you the brave one? Isn’t that the only goddamn thing you have going for you?

“Yes,” she said to herself, her voice choked with tears, “Brave,” she glanced over at her pack in the passenger seat. She had always been braver than Dipper, even if she wasn’t brave enough to kiss him. His caution had only held them back with Tessie, and it wouldn’t get in her way this time. He nearly died because of you, a doubtful voice in her head reminded her. She pushed it away, Well, then, it’s a good thing he won’t get in my way this time.

Continue to Part 6

[shadowsatlantis]

Dreaming up Atlantis - Chapter 1 God Save the Dreamers

What do you want to be when you grow up? The question is asked to every kid. The answer is supposed to be whimsical. I thought that was the point. How can a small child plan for their future when they are still ruled by imagination? That’s what I think now. But back then I was always jarred by the inevitable, “Oh you can’t be a singer without a way to make money.” To be an artist means you will be starving. That was my programming. I have a rebellious nature, so I grew up determined to be ok with being starving. I got off on the wrong foot.

I would always shoot for the moon, but I was keenly aware of the limitations. I couldn’t fly. I didn’t have a space ship. Not to mention, the moon was in space where I couldn’t survive even if I could somehow miraculously escape the atmosphere. But I never stopped believing. Underneath my sad awareness of impossibility, I somehow managed to bumble through being a dreamer. I’m not usually the one to sit and tell stories. I’m usually the one listening. Unless there’s banter to be had, and then I’m all talk. I thrive on small talk and silly quipping. I can’t say as though a good intellectual discussion is out of the question, but when someone goes off talking about their thoughts all the time without room for the volley, I get bored pretty fast. It’s one thing to have something to share. It’s another to have a discussion about it.

Because of this, I don’t talk about my past much. If what I have to say can’t be said in a minute or less, I don’t bother. When people sit and force me to listen to their long winded stories for 15 minutes, inside my mind, I’m screaming, “Are you ever going to stop talking?” The value of telling our stories should be reserved for writing. And so, for all those who have forced me to sit and listen to their constant babble, here is my life story.

I grew up in Los Angeles. It was back in the days where we had high pollution, and couldn’t breathe. My school was full of mean kids who liked to prey on sensitive kids. If you reacted, they would continue their abuse. I reacted, so I was in the pantheon of the teased. I spent my days wishing I was someone else, making up stories in my head. My bubble was safe. My imagination, impenetrable. The school was called Holy Trinity. But I called it Holy Tragedy. The church bells would ring, and I would listen to the music. The sun would shine into the window, and I would watch the dust floating in the air. I was the kid who would sit for hours playing with my little “people” who lived in the perfect worlds I would create for them. I was a god.

One day we had a creative writing assignment. It was an essay on the family pet. I had a goldfish. So I had the brilliant idea of writing from its POV. My way of personifying a fish’s life was unique and funny. The teacher read it out loud to the class. Everyone laughed and cheered. And when it came time to reveal the mystery author, the class gasped in awe that it was me, that weird, dirty kid with divorced parents and a cool older brother who played on the flag football team. From then on, somehow I started building up a rapport with the kids I had grown to despise. One of the “popular” boys who sat behind me in class kept asking me what I was writing in my journal. I would lean in and cover it so he wouldn’t be able to see it. I didn’t trust him. But eventually he pestered me enough that I told him I was writing a fantasy book. We were in the 5th grade. He was impressed, and from then on he started defending me, and telling everyone I was an author.

That was when my dad was transferred to Washington, DC, and we moved away from L.A. So much for finally being accepted. Dad was in the Airforce, but we never lived on a base. He was in the aerospace field, working on Titan missiles. Apparently, he was a minuteman in Montana when I was born. I must have been about 4 when my parents split up. Half the week was spent at one place, and half at the other. To me I just had parents who lived in different houses between San Pedro and Long Beach, the harbor area of Los Angeles. My brother and I were tricksters. My mom would get out the wooden spoon to “punish” us, and we would leap around out of her reach, taunting and saying “oooooo the wooden spooooon.” Even though it was a broken situation, I liked my two homes. But when that DC job at the Pentagon arrived, our fragile existence was blown to bits.

My dad had gotten remarried, and my little brother came into the world. My mom took the opportunity to move to Colorado, where she had always wanted to be. It was 1984, the year the Olympics were in Los Angeles. Having to start over as a 12-year old who had finally earned acceptance with my peers was a contributing factor to my continued psychosis. Teenagers are fragile creatures. It is a time of developing hormones, and deciding how we fit into the world. My stepmother and I never got along from day one. She was a hard-headed woman, and I was a troubled kid turning misguided teen. It was a bad mix. While home became the clash of the titans, I had no choice but to make the best of school life.

I spent the first year watching the way kids did things in public middle school. I wore my brother’s heavy metal shirts, even though I didn’t like the music. I had been in a Catholic private school before with a uniform, so I never knew how to dress to impress. When I came back the next year, I had been to see my mom, and visited my fabulous granny in Austin, Texas. I got a makeover. The women in my life were determined to help me fit in.

I had new clothes, makeup, and a new attitude. I was popular for the first time, even considered pretty for the first time. I participated in the weird games that teenagers play with each other. I needed to fit in. I changed my very nature to become popular. I was even mean. Sometimes ruthless. It was my way of lashing back at the world for being so cruel. I became even more cruel. More manipulative. Me as a villain was a very bad thing, because I found I was better than everyone else at it.

One day, one of the girls I knew said I would make a cute couple with the most popular boy in school. I watched him for a while and calculated my conquest. Then I made my move. It was entirely strategic. I did it just for the challenge. But what I discovered was love. We actually did make a cute couple. And he was nice. And he genuinely liked me. So we had a semester of perfect love. It brought out the real me.

When summer hit, my parents decided I would move to Colorado to live with my mom. The conflict at home was just too much to bear. I denied it at first, preferring to believe my version of the story. I wrote to my boyfriend, saying I would be back, and we would start high school together. But when summer was over, my belongings showed up in a box, and I was now a Coloradoan. I grew up with a broken heart. But that was my first real heart break.

At first I tried my technique of changing who I was, and being ruthless. But the wind was gone from my sails. I no longer cared what people thought of me. I started to drink. I was now a party girl. My older brother was always good at making friends. He was a musician. His buddies became my buddies. I was the one sister who was part of their crew. I dressed how I wanted, did what I wanted, talked to people I thought were interesting. I auditioned for the top choir at school and made it, so choir became my life. Every year I went to high school, everyone thought I was a senior. I had lockers in the senior hall. We had an open campus, so I would leave school with my friends and smoke weed. I would empty out half a bottle of juice and fill it with vodka.

My mom was an international journalist, so she would travel. My brother and I would stay at home alone. Naturally, we had giant keg parties. We got in trouble a few times, but ultimately, our teenaged years were the essence of freedom. Everyone looked up to us. My brother’s band would play at the house, and people drove by every weekend to see if our little “underground venue” was popping. 6 times out of 10 it would be.

My brother moved out before the end of high school. His buddies had a big house in downtown Fort Collins on Mason Street across from Avogadro’s Number. Much to my mom’s relief, that became the place to party instead of our place. The train went down the street. We would put pennies on the tracks and find them flattened later. We played music. Dungeons and Dragons. And we drank. I suppose they did harder drugs. That was just what happened in that town. We owned Fort Collins. Every street belonged to us.

I fell in love with my brother’s best friend. He was a genius. He would serenade me with classical guitar. He was incredibly hot. The manager of Avogrado’s. I was in high school still. At first he was cautious about his best friend’s sister, but over the years, he had to submit to our chemistry. I would leave school and crawl into his window. We laughed a lot. But he liked drugs. He would disappear for days with his lesbian drug dealer, and show up again without an explanation. I would be upset, but he would fall back into my good graces immediately with his charm and good looks.

When my senior prom came around, I arranged a beautiful pink princess dress. He backed out. I tried to go with some other older guy I had met, but decided I wasn’t inspired. I didn’t attend my prom. I got drunk instead. I knew he was depriving me of an important American rite of passage. I decided it didn’t apply to me anyway. I cut up the princess dress into a mini skirt with a tank top, and rocked it at a concert instead.

I was in love with my genius, high school sweetheart, and he had decided not to be my prince. We stayed together for 3 years. That’s a long time in my world. Eventually my brother lashed out at him. He was mad that his “best” friend treated his sister like shit. Somehow years went by, and the genius never really understood why my brother betrayed him. So much for the awareness of dudes. I graduated in 1990, and joined a band called Perspectives. That was to be my future. It lasted for a while until they all decided to kick me out. I was kind of a slut. Guys don’t like it when a girl sleeps around in a group. Lame. My future was in ruins. I got my first place. A nice one bedroom apartment at Horsetooth Reservoir above Fort Collins. I had a dog named Shawnya. She was the love of my life, a beautiful Australian Shepard/pointer mix. She stayed with me through thick and thin, always my emotional support.

She got hit by a car once and fractured her pelvis. I brought her into the vet. They said they needed to operate and cut off the ball of her femur in order to get the pelvis back into place. But when they went into the surgery, they had cut at the wrong angle. They closed her back up and sent her home, scheduling another surgery date. They didn’t give me pain killers for her. They wanted to discourage her from walking on it. For weeks, her leg dangled lifeless as she hobbled on three legs. Otherwise she would lie in the bed and cry.

I spent hours holding a heating pad on her hip. I imagined light coming out of my hands. I had read about light healing. This was my first experience with it. When I brought her back in, she was limping on her leg. They said that shouldn’t have been possible. They took an x-ray and were amazed. They brought in specialists. The bone had grown back into its socket. They didn’t need to operate after all. It was a miracle.

I went in and out of depression. I was a miserable child turned angry teenager. But I had a hunger for knowledge. I was raised with religion. But the church didn’t practice what it preached. In Catholic school the kids were cruel to me, and the teachers never did anything about it. I would cry, and they would ignore me. I would have my revenge. When I was confirmed, and my adulthood in the church consecrated, I announced that was I was no longer Catholic. I prayed every night like I was supposed to. But more often than not, I would end up meditating. I would leave my body and travel through the cosmos. I would contemplate death for hours. I would wonder where the universe ended. I would try and remember where I was before I was born. I would reach out across the world and feel people on the other side of the planet.

I always believed in God. But I couldn’t wrap my head around the finite depiction of heaven and hell. I couldn’t imagine that church was the only way to reach an understanding. I went to the public library and took out books on theology. I liked Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoist philosophy. What struck me about Hinduism was their concept of time, and above all, reincarnation. It struck a chord in me. So I branched out and found New Age philosophy and occultism. I had struck gold…

(Stay tuned for chapter 2)

Mara Powers is author of the critically acclaimed series Shadows of Atlantis. www.shadowsofatlantis.com

(Stay tuned for chapter 2)