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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

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(pt. i) (pt. ii)

She keeps to the darkness, keeps quiet, and keeps her distance, just the way she’s been trained to. She watches Lena, and she does it quite well. The difficult part is settling on the one thing that she should be learning from these endeavors.

Lena does a great many things throughout her day—often up before the sun, and only homeward bound long after it’s set. But after three long days of research, there’s one feature in particular that seems to warrant the most attention: a dark fleck, nestled in the pale expanse of her vulnerable throat.

When she tries to encapsulate the entirety of that observation into words at her disposal, however, all she can manage is, “Lena, not ugly.”

Lex doesn’t reply for a long while, which isn’t typical of him. But his tone isn’t unkind when he finally asks, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” She frowns, because why couldn’t that be it?

But Lex sighs, and that soft sound uproots her peace at its very core. “I wanted you to bring me a fact,” he says. “Not develop an opinion.”

“Different how?” she demands.

“Well, I need evidence.” Lex takes her hand, turning it over to reveal her palm, forever marked and marred from her most recent encounter with Kryptonite. “I need you to show me something. Something real. Otherwise, it doesn’t count. Do you understand?”

And yes, that much is definitely understandable. Even to her.

With much repurposed effort, she watches and waits while Lena does her work. Then she watches Lena take her leave, then waits some more.

It’s only when the top floor of the building is emptied of all people that she flies over, slipping into Lena’s office through the balcony door that’s never locked. From there, it doesn’t take long to secure what she’s looking for.

The next time Lex pays her a visit, she drops an armful of her spoils right at his feet.

“Lena likes coffee,” she announces boldly.

Lex is clearly taken aback at first, blinking and still. But then he grabs one of the many empty coffee cups now littered across the floor, and a slow smile dawns on his face. “All right then. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She grins so wide that it strains the corners of her lips.

“Lena is cold,” she says the next time they meet, presenting a delicate black glove for his amusement and perusal.

“Yes, well, most people are when it snows,” Lex says.

“Not me.”

“Well, you’re not exactly most people now, are you?” Lex’s pride in her is absolutely infectious, so she grins. “Of course not. You’re… exquisite.”

“Good thing?” she asks. It’s usually the first question that wells up inside of her upon hearing new words.

“A very good thing,” Lex says with a playful wink.

Over the last two weeks, Lex’s visits have dropped from often to somewhat often enough, his precious attention now divided between her and another project of his. It’s been a near impossible change for her to weather, but moments like this make it a little easier.

That is, until Lex slips the glove on.

She watches him flex his fingers one by one, forcing the taut leather to crackle loudly in her ears, and retreats somewhere deep inside herself. She fights determinedly against the frown threatening to twist her features into something uglier.

The glove isn’t hers. It isn’t Lex’s either, but his hand fits so perfectly that it could very well be his if he wanted.

“Not actually all that warm,” Lex comments, snorting when he peeks inside the glove. “And yet, pricier than your average first class ticket to Paris… Tsk, a little superficial, if you ask me.”

She nods as appropriate, but most of her concern is still with the glove and how Lex stuffs it into his back pocket like it doesn’t mean a thing.

“Yes, her hair is indeed very long,” Lex says, accepting the offering of Lena’s hairbrush, complete with stray strands of dark hair still caught in its teeth as ample proof for this careful observation. “This, Bizarrogirl, is absolutely perfect.”

And it is. Because this isn’t just a handful of coffee cups tossed in the trash or a lone glove left behind in the snow during a hasty commute. No, this is something she actually had to break into Lena’s apartment for, in the middle of a workday, undetected even in broad daylight.

But even all that and more couldn’t outweigh the very simple fact that Lex has the means to kill her now.

Evidently, a big part of his new project has been synthesizing a strain of Kryptonite that would only be lethal to her, and he must have succeeded because today, he’s armed with blue-tipped syringes that can pierce her skin.

It’s for research purposes. It’s the only way that Lex can collect blood samples so as to better study her molecular makeup, which will only help her in the long run. Lex, of course, would never hurt her.

Except it does hurt. Each needle sinks into her arm in an acute twinge, and she can feel the aftereffects of the breach crawling inside her head. It’s worse than the green light. It makes her stomach dry out like a rock, and tugs cool drops of sweat onto the surface of her skin.

But Lex must notice this sudden unrest living inside her because he lets her keep the hairbrush.

“Mine?” she asks, cradling the brush in her hands. It’s been relieved of all traces of Lena, but that doesn’t matter. She’s seen Lena use it enough times that it’s still rightly precious.

“No, it’s still Lena’s,” Lex corrects her with a gentle smile. “But you can keep it,” which is the best possible answer he could have given her.

She’s watching Lena unwind at home from her favorite spot in the sky, drawing from her x-ray vision and super-hearing with an ease that is now very practiced.

Everything is pleasantly routine until Kara knocks on Lena’s door, which is still very routine until they start raising their voices at each other. They exchange some words that she doesn’t quite understand with many implications that perhaps she will never understand. Then Supergirl is leaving through the balcony, flying off into the night in a blur of boastful blues and reds, while Lena is left behind to yell at herself and cry in unpredictable bursts.

Eventually, Lena settles in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of something that makes the air taste bitter. She’s halfway through her third glass when she slumps forward, her head dropped into her folded arms, breath gradually slowing and deepening.

She watches Lena sleep, waiting until the waiting is unbearable. There are all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she touches down onto the balcony, sidling into the apartment like a fleeting shadow, and finds herself in Lena’s presence for the very first time.

The bitter taste is stronger in her nose now, but so is everything else to be perceived about Lena. Everything from her soft snores to the slight warmth her body gives off once within reach.

And she risks that everything for a single touch, brushing her fingertips right where Lena’s long hair starts to end. It’s light, yet stirs something pure, frenzied, and fluttering in her chest. Then Lena sniffles and mumbles into her own arm, “… Kara?” and the moment spills into reality.

Teeth bared, she plucks the glass from Lena’s fragile grip with just enough care that it doesn’t shatter and leaves the same way Supergirl had barely an hour before.

She sets the glass before Lex with a firm clack! that calls his attention away from his tablet.

“Oh hello…” Lex sits up with a small chuckle. “And what’s this? Are we celebrating?”

“Lena is sad.”

Lex is out of his chair, his stare wild as he promptly demands, “What happened? What did you see?”

“Kara came. They talked… Supergirl left.” She squeezes her right fist, digging her nails into her palm the way she’s supposed to when things overwhelm her. “And… Lena is sad.”

Lex bursts into laughter. He doesn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night.

She doesn’t want to learn things about Lena anymore.

Things are so different now. Lena is quieter, often alone. She spends most of her time at work and not nearly enough time maintaining habits that are meant to keep her alive.

But Lex still insists that she keep watch, so she does, and she still does it so well. She works at it even harder, in fact, now that his visits have become even fewer and farther in between as of late. Lex’s other project is supposedly not as important as she is, but it siphons off his time like it must be.

Lena’s new routine is polished, heavily sanitized, and well-established until the night she breaks it in favor of tasting the nighttime air. She steps onto her balcony in clothes made for sleep and with a glass filled with something more sweet than bitter. Her eyes narrow up at the darkened sky. She stares, as if expectant.

“Hello…? Is somebody out there?” Lena rests her elbows precariously against the railing, sighing between intermittent sips of her drink. Then, in a softened voice, “… Who are you?” And all of a sudden, Lena’s become tangible and more than just another person waiting for Supergirl to save her.

Bizarrogirl glides from shadow to shadow, trailing the darkness all the way down to the far corner of the balcony, where she settles in, secluded and silent. Lena doesn’t turn around, but her heartbeat is readily transparent enough for the both of them that it doesn’t matter. “Hello, Lena,” she says.

Lena sighs into her glass. “So, are you the one stealing my things then?”

“Yes.”

“You know… I really thought I was just going crazy. That I was just conjuring up senseless conspiracies because god forbid I ever misplace something like a normal person.” Lena pauses to take a small sip of her drink and chuckle. “But then, you went ahead and took my favorite glass right out of my hand, so…”

She smiles, even though she knows no one can see it. “You are smart.”

“Allegedly,” Lena says, shrugging. She looks over her shoulder, blinks blearily right into the darkness. “You’re really not going to show yourself, huh?”

“No. Never.” She holds her breath, but the follow-up question never comes.

Instead, Lena just turns back around with a small nod. “Believe me, I’d be doing the same thing if I could,” she says quietly, and leaves it at that.

“Not… scared?” she finally has to ask.

“Should I be?”

She shakes her head after some hesitation. “No.”

“Well, there we go then,” Lena says, rubbing at her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Listen… I’m just… so tired right now, and frankly, I just don’t have it in me to address whatever it is you’re trying to do. But to be honest—” she tosses back the last of her drink in a single swallow—“I have enough things. So… consider this a freebie.”

“… Freebie?”

Lena pushes off the railing, exhaling half-hearted laughter. “Yes, freebie. I’m leaving this for you right here, okay? No need to resort to petty theft or breaking and entering.” She sets the empty wineglass right outside her door, but pauses before stepping through. “… So, what’s your name anyway?”

The most obvious answer—so carefully practiced, her clumsy mouth sounding out the word over and over again for her own sake—feels wrong in the moment. A lie, somehow, in the face of Lena’s undeserved generosity.

“You do have a name, don’t you?” Lena glances over, head tilted curiously, and their eyes almost meet despite all the darkness cast between them.

“No,” she manages to say, her fingernails biting fiercely into her own palm.

Lena gives a hum, one so thoughtful and reminiscent of her brother. “Well… that’s something you’ll have to steal from someone else, I’m afraid.”

She watches Lena slide the door shut behind her, but waits until all the lights disappear before reaching for the glass.

It takes two more days for Lex to pay her another visit, and he walks into her room to find her turning the wineglass over and over in her hands. He frowns when she doesn’t immediately offer it up to him.

“So, did you learn anything?” Lex asks, and she just nods. “… And…?”

She rolls her right hand into a fist so tight that her entire hand feels like a bruise. “Not. Scared.”

“Lena’s… not scared.” Lex studies the wineglass carefully before directing his sharp gaze back at her face. “I see.”

He doesn’t ask for further clarification, or any other question, or anything at all, for that matter. He just leaves, and she feels nothing about it.

#i started writing this for one (1) specific scene #and that scene's... apparently just never coming #anyway this is exactly 2150 words because hashtag kicksngigglestm #my words.

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stylesann · 3 years ago

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Stark’s retirement plan

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Summary: Steve looks for his happy ending.

Warnings: none?

A/N: idk what this is… I just felt excited about writing and apparently the only thing I’m able to do is twist Steve’s ending 145 times because I did not enjoy cannon version hihi, and welll this is the results tho it might be really bad i still wanted to post lol, bear in mind english is not my first language so there could have some mistakes anddd to finish, any comments are appreciated 💕 💕 -> written and posted 16/06/21 ->I do not own any marvel characters or anything really

Masterlist

“You're a good man, Sam. This one's on me, though” Steve answered his friend and directed himself to Bucky. “Don't do anything stupid 'till I get back.”

“How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you” they both chuckle and hug. Bucky knows something is up with Steve, he knows him and he sees all the signs that something is making him nervous, unsettled. “Gonna miss you, Buddy.”

“It's gonna be okay, Buck” Steve assures his friend. Truth is, he is not sure it will. Steve’s been anxious, every since he saw her that day he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache. All he wanted was to go straight to her and hug her and never let go. He knows he has a decision to make, an important one in fact, but he can’t help but wonder the consequences that the deepest desires of his heart would cause in the timeline, and that itself makes him pray everything will work out as planned for once in his life. Steve goes over to the Quantum portal and activates the time-travel suit.

“How long is this gonna take?” Sam asks.

“For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds… Ready, Cap? Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay?”

“I’ll see you in a minute” Steve tells his friends before he disappears on the platform.

***********

“Steve!!”

“Steve, answer the coms! Are you seeing this??” Steve hears the voice screaming at his past version while you’re all fighting the Wakanda Battle. It’s you. God, he has missed you so much during the past 5 years. He almost cries knowing what is to happen in the near future to you. He can’t let it happen again.

Steve knows his past version is too far from where you where fighting many aliens all by yourself. He knows that what you where referring is a few alien ships arriving from the sky, and normally he would go directly to you but Thanos is about to show up in Wakanda and take all of his attention. Back then, he couldn’t have reached you on time to stop that alien from stabbing you seconds before half the universe is turned to dust. But now, damn him if he wouldn’t be there to take you out of the battle alive.

Steve knows he had to act quickly so that everyone would assume you just got dusted too. When people were to show up in 5 years and you didn’t… well he would worry about that later.

The soldier sees the aliens trapping you in the middle of them and they start to close the circle, leaving you with less and less space to defend yourself from their attacks. You were losing. He could see your movements slower and you were clearly tired. Your breath was heavy and you had injuries on your arms and torso. Steve decides now is a time as good as any to get you out of here. He steps out of his hiding place and runs to you.

With Steve there you both manage to get the aliens down. You seemed to be ready to thank him when the atmosphere changes. What was before a chaotic battle noise, now was silence. That was it, Thanos had snapped his fingers, and Steves time gap to act was getting smaller. He grabbed your hand and dragged you to where he was waiting before. The confusion was evident in your face but he didn’t have the luxury to explain it to you in the moment, so he just asks you to trust him and you both wait until it’s safe to leave without people seeing you or him.

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

Steve could hear the raindrops outside while he prepared a tea for you. He looked out of the kitchen window and spoted you sitting in a small couch that you both decided to put on the front porch of your house. You were wearing his big sweatshirt and had a blanket covering your legs, the perfect description of cozy if someone ever asks Steve.

The weather was chilly but Steve couldn’t feel any happier. He had you, he finally had you in his arms after spending so long without hearing your voice or feeling your touch. He spent 5 years missing your presence, your quirks and your habits. He felt so empty, like a man out of time again. He was out of time with you, except that now he wasn’t.

As soon as you both had been able to leave Wakanda without being caught, he told you what had happened. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t realised his face seemed more tired and older than hours ago, when you had last seen his past self. To you it was obvious when you looked at him, at his eyes that carried the weight of the world, that he was there for a reason. It was clear to you that you wouldn’t had made it out alive if he hadn’t interfered with the aliens and so you understood beforehand what he would tell you, but Steve still had to explain everything else, and he did.

The soldier cried a lot when he told you what life without you was like and it broke you heart to see such a strong man in such a fragile state. Steve then mentioned Stark’s plan of retirement, of moving out of town and starting a family maybe, and he said he wanted that with you, which you agreed.

And now you both lived in a simple house in front of a small lake, that had a lot of trees around which provided the most beautiful sight wether it is a sunny or a rainy day. The house was far away from the avengers compound, you both pretty much spend 5 years secluded without seeing your friends in order to not mess too much with the timeline. But there was one change that couldn’t be avoided and you as much as Steve knew that he would have to reveal in a couple of months, when the avengers were supposed to bring everyone back from the dust.

“How is my two favourite people in the world?” Steve chants from the door. He hands you the tea and hugs your side while you accommodate to his body.

“We’re good, the baby is sleeping I guess, he just stopped moving” you chuckle lightly as your hand goes to your belly to caress you 8 month bump. You feel Steve’s hand on your bump and you see him sporting the biggest grin.

“You sleeping there J?” He lowers his head and whispers to the baby, receiving no kicks back.

“Yeah, definitely sleeping. Probably tired from the party that he threw this morning on my belly. I swear I couldn’t sleep 3 hours straight” you yawn tiredly.

“One more month and he’ll be here with us, honey” you cuddle closer to him as you drink your tea. One more month and your baby James will be here. Just one more month and you both are gonna be the happiest ever.

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

“And returning in, five, four, three, two, one–“ Bruce activates the Quantum platform, but nothing happens.

“Where is he?” Sam asks nervously, wondering if something went wrong.

“I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here.”

“Well, get him back.”

“I'm trying.”

“Get him the hell back!”

“I said, I'm trying!

“Sam...” Bucky calls, he’s looking at a man sitting in a log. They both walk closer to see Steve, a few years older, wearing normal clothes but caring a round bag with him.

Sams the first one to approach. “So did something go wrong, or did something go right? You look older, no offence”

“Well, after I put the stones back, I thought, maybe I'll try some of that life Tony was telling me to get.” Steve answers, he knew the past few months made an impact in his appearance, considering the baby wouldn’t let you or him sleep for too long. It’s almost laughable that the great Captain America was taken down by his baby son.

“And how'd that work out for you?”

“It is beautiful. And that’s why I can’t have this anymore” Steve hands the shield to Sam. “You’re the best man for the job, and I know you’ll make it proud… How does it feel?”

“Like it belongs to someone else.”

“It doesn’t.”

“You wanna tell me about her?” He asks seeing a wedding ring on his friends finger, and Steve smiles getting up to go back to you and your son.

“Eventually, but for now, I don't think I will.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x you

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jiangwanyinscatmom · 4 years ago

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i'm so TIRED of people with vivid imaginations trying to convince every1 the things their brains came up with happened in MDZS, just saw some1 say about lan mom "SOMETHING went down between a creepy teacher and their mother. She gets forced into marriage with a man she doesn’t love and IMPRISONED before eventually committing suicide/ falling sick and dying" like WHERE? the only piece of information was LXC saying "i have no idea WTF happened" so he doesn't know, MXTX doesn't know but you do???

Some of this is a shock for my system so early in the morning... alright... I guess we're gonna go step by step with this just cause people are awful at reading, along with my stance on this particular bit of prevalent discourse.

Since this is greatly misinterpreted for whatever reasons, here is the relevant passage and only one in the text we get concerning the Lan parents. I'm going to add that this is alllll relaid by Lan Xichen and to keep that in mind with what is highlighted.

He spoke slowly, “The reason that my father often practiced secluded meditation was my mother. This place, compared to a place of living… was more like a place of detention.”

Wei WuXian was surprised.

The father of ZeWu-Jun and HanGuang-Jun, QingHeng-Jun, used to be a famous cultivator. He made his name at a young age and had many things waiting for him in the future. However, at the age of twenty, he suddenly backed away and announced his marriage. He had also ceased to care for much of the world. Although it was called secluded meditation, it was much more like retirement. People had come up with many possible reasons, but none of them had been verified.

Lan XiChen bent down amid the clusters of gentians. He gently stroked those thin, tender petals, “When my father was young, when he returned from a night-hunt once, he saw my mother outside of Gusu city.” He smiled, “I heard that it was love at first sight.”

Wei WuXian grinned as well, “The young are often sentimental.”

Lan XiChen continued, “But, the woman did not care for him the same way. In addition, she killed one of my father’s teachers.”

This was beyond imagination. Although Wei WuXian knew that asking too many questions would be very rude, however when he remembered that they had been Lan WangJi’s parents, he felt that he just had to ask. “Why?!”

Lan XiChen, “I do not know. But, I assume that it was something along the lines of ‘grievances’.”

Wei WuXian didn’t ask anymore into this and forced down his curiosity, “And… what happened later?”

“And then,” Lan XiChen explained, “When my father heard of this, of course he was in much pain. But, no matter how he struggled, he still took the woman to his sect in secrecy. Ignoring the objections from his clan, he knelt with her for the Heavens and the Earth without making a sound and told everyone in the clan that she would be his wife for the rest of his life, that whoever wanted to harm her would have to pass through him first.”

Wei WuXian widened his eyes.

Lan XiChen continued, “After the ceremony was completed, my father found a house and locked my mother inside. He found another house and locked himself inside. It was called secluded meditation, but it was in truth to repent.”

He paused before speaking again, “Young Master Wei, can you understand why he did such a thing?”

Wei WuXian answered after a moment of silence, “He could neither forgive the one who killed his teacher nor watch the death of the woman who he loved. He could only marry her to protect her life and force himself not to see her.”

Lan XiChen, “Do you think that this was right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

Lan XiChen looked somewhat lost, “Then, what do you think would be right?”

Wei WuXian, “I don’t know.”

A while later, Lan XiChen whispered, “It could be said that my father did this without a care for anything else. All of the seniors of the clan were enraged, but they had all watched him grow up. They could not do anything except guard this secret, hint to the outside world that the wife of the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader had an unspeakable disease and could not see others. After WangJi and I were born, we were immediately taken away to be cared for by other people. When we grew older, we were brought to Uncle to be taught."

“My shufu… has always had a frank personality to begin with. Because of how my mother caused my father to destroy his own life, he began to hate those who behaved improperly even more. Thus, he poured his heart into teaching WangJi and me. He was especially harsh as well. Every month, we could only see Mother once, inside of this cottage.”

They were two young children, who faced everyday only their harsh uncle, strict teachings, and mountains of books. No matter how tired, they had to straighten their soft backs to be the most outstanding disciples of the clan, the model students in others’ eyes. They could rarely see their closest relatives. They couldn’t fool around in their father’s arms, they couldn’t act spoiled in front of their mother.

But they had clearly done nothing wrong.

Lan XiChen, “Everytime WangJi and I went to see her, she would never complain about how tedious it was being locked inside of here, unable to step out once. She had never asked about our studies, either. She especially liked to tease WangJi, but WangJi, the more you tease him the less willing he is to talk, and the worse of an expression he puts on. He has been like this ever since he was young. However,” he chuckled, “even though WangJi never said it, I knew that every month he was looking forward to the day he could see Mother. He was like this, and I was the same.”

Wei WuXian imagined a young Lan WangJi hugged inside of his mother’s arms, his snowy little cheeks flushed pink. He laughed as well. But before his smile had even melted, Lan XiChen continued, “But one day, Uncle suddenly told us that we would have no need to go any longer."

“Mother was gone.”

Wei WuXian’s voice was soft, “How old was Lan Zhan back then?”

Lan XiChen, “Six.”

He continued, “He was still too young to understand what ‘gone’ means. No matter how much others comforted him, or how much Uncle scolded him, he would continue to come back here every single month, sit down in the hallway, and wait for someone to open the door for him. When he grew older, he understood that Mother would not be coming back, that no one would open the door for him, but he kept on coming here.”

Lan XiChen stood up. His dark eyes looked into Wei WuXian’s, “WangJi has been so stubborn ever since he was young.”

The leaves rustled and the gentian flowers swished alongside the wind, their scent lingering. Wei WuXian’s eyes landed on the wooden hallway of the cottage. He could almost see a small child wearing a forehead ribbon sitting with proper posture in front of the house, waiting quietly for the door to open.

He spoke, “Madam Lan must’ve been a very gentle woman.”

Lan XiChen, “In my memories, Mother had indeed been so. I do not know why she did such a thing back then. And, in truth, I…”

He took a deep breath before confessing, “I do not want to know either.”

After a few moments of silence, Lan XiChen closed his eyes. He took out Liebing. A gust of night wind suddenly sent forth a sobbing note of the xiao. The sound was deep, like a sigh.

Wei WuXian had heard Lan XiChen play Liebing before. Its timbre was just like Lan XiChen himself, as warm and graceful as a breeze and the rain of spring. Yet, now, although his technique was as excellent as ever, the tone evoked a strange mixture of feelings.

The night wind swept by. Lan XiChen’s hair and forehead ribbon were already somewhat disheveled. However, the GusuLan Sect’s sect leader, who had always regarded appearance highly, didn’t pay any attention to them. He only put down Liebing after the song had finished, “Music is forbidden at night in the Cloud Recesses. Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”

Wei WuXian, “How so? ZeWu-Jun, have you forgotten that the person standing in front of you is the person who has broken the most rules…”

Lan XiChen smiled, “The GusuLan Sect has never revealed these facts about Lan Wangji and myself outside of itself. I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Wei WuXian, “I’m not the kind of person who talks too much. Don’t worry, ZeWu-Jun.”

Lan XiChen, “Regardless, I would assume that WangJi would not hide anything from you anyways.”

Wei WuXian, “If he doesn’t wish to talk about something then I won’t ask.”

Lan XiChen, “But, with WangJi’s personality, how could he say anything if you do not ask? There are some things that even if you ask him he would not say.”

Now that we have the context of the Lan parents laid out the only definitive answer for anything concerning their personal motivations for anything is "I DON'T KNOW". Their secrets and thoughts literally died with them.

And this entire story Lan Xichen told in the end, had nothing to do with his parents. He did not tell Wei Wuxian about them, he was speaking everything unsaid about Lan Wangji's motivations and his love of Wei Wuxian. He does not care why his parents did what they did, but he does for the one that is alive. His brother who he had just had a bit of a veiled conversation about Lan Wangji's pure trust in Wei Wuxian. Who, in Lan Xichen's eyes, had already rejected his brother's love and did not feel the same, mirroring the past of their father's apparent unrequited love. He is saying Lan Wangji is sacrificing his all, unvoiced.

His pressing of if his parent "are right" is him asking Wei Wuxian what he feels about those sacrifices, if he can see the sacrifices Lan Wangji had gone through. At this point he along with Lan Wangji have assumed Wei Wuxian knows and remembers what he had said within the cave. He is telling Wei Wuxian his brother has alway been this way for those he loves regardless of what they may be perceived as by outsiders.

"Today I have overstepped far too many times. Excuse me, Wei gongzi.”"

"I should not have told you. Tonight was my sudden urge to unburden myself, a spur of the moment.”

Meaning, it was not his place to tell this about his brother, but there is no one else that would, and Lan Wangji would never say anything about his feelings again. Lan Xichen is first and foremost worried about where his brother has placed his love, as he knows, regardless of what rumors surround those he loves, his brother will still be forever loyal to them without question if he believes them to be in the right.

Lan Xichen is warning Wei Wuxian he needs to take care in his actions as he approaches Lan Wangji as Xichen is well aware already of how Lan Wangji will go through hell for others he adores. From the start it was never about his parents, as Lan Xichen says, "I do not want to know either,". But what he does want to know is where Wei Wuxian stands with his own feelings towards Lan Wangji or if he is still using his brother as he has thought for years. Leaving Lan Xichen to protect him as best as he can while Lan Wangji stays hurt for others with no happiness for himself.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the Lan parents #It literally does not matter what was between them as they are dead and gone #Lan Wangji is the one left seemingly continuing their tragedy and rumors #the lan parents are a damn metaphore for Lan Wangji's feelings

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ovidialee · 3 years ago

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After the War Author Interview: @solasnarealtai

The second of our Four Horseman @solasnarealtai lets us into her writer brain to school us on why Snarcissa makes uncanny sense--in canon, no less, and why she wouldn’t survive life in the Wizarding World. And I can confirm that she adorably talks EXACTLY like this in real life:

1) Which came first for you - original work or fanfiction?

Definitely original, but I can’t say that any of the early stuff was any good. I was just a kid that liked to make up stories, whether I was really writing them down or thinking them in my head...but my mom says that I’ve been writing for about as long as she can remember. I discovered fanfic when I was in high school - I think it was my freshman year. One of my really good friends shared most of my classes and we sat near each other in all of them. I noticed her writing a lot one day and asked what she was working on. She asked if I’d heard of a particular manga (I cannot recall the name of it) and even though I hadn’t, she proceeded to explain to me that she was writing fanfiction of it. She was using her own characters, however, and essentially just had me make one up and let me start writing with her. You can say I was hooked after that!

2) I never pictured Snarcissa or really thought about it. You definitely opened my eyes to why it works so well. I’d love for you to share the drive behind these two characters -- and specifically why in a bookstore?

Why wouldn’t I?! Joking aside... There's just something about them that makes sense to me. I started shipping them after Half-Blood Prince came out and I read the Spinner’s End scene. Everything about that chapter was pushing me to this belief that there had been something between these two in the past, even if there wasn’t currently. Narcissa clearly knew the way to Snape’s house, for one, and I think we can all agree that he is not a man who would give just anyone access to his home. She also grabs at his robes, is so close to him that her tears are literally falling on his chest...and he lets her.

Snape and Narcissa are both very intelligent people and I don’t think I’m alone in finding smart people attractive; we’re just drawn together, almost like magnets.

The Unbreakable Vow has some wedding vow vibes to it, and I’ve seen arguments all over the internet citing it as evidence either for or against this ship. It is true, I think, that Snape is willing to do what he must for his role of spy, but...some lesser men wouldn’t have agreed to make that vow. This ties a bit into my headcanon of him as Draco’s godfather as well. He is doing what he can to help people he cares about.

It is very unrealistic that he - especially as a grown man - would go the rest of his life pining over a supposed failed romantic relationship from his childhood and then just abstain from any relationship. I have many feelings about the Potters, which I’ll mostly abstain from right now, but the way that I write my Snape in regards to Lily is that he loved her as his friend, and that love may have come across a bit stronger than it would from other people, but he didn’t exactly have many role models in his life to know the nuances of those emotions at the time. So, my Snape regrets a lot of things, but he’s going to keep living….and part of that includes his life between the sheets.

I know the other Horsemen have taken inspiration from your wonderfully crafted Death Eater Chronicles, no matter which characters they’re writing -- and it’s brilliant! But if I write Snape, I write my Snape, and that man loves books. I’m a bookseller myself, which is part of why I’ve got all these scenes going through my head, but...we’ve seen what his house looks like. Books are everywhere along the walls. It’s literally a bibliophile’s dream to have that! I don’t know that all of them - or even many of them - fantasize specifically about having some hot sex surrounded by books but...I’m just saying (again) that I find smart people very attractive. And my Snape finds it very satisfactory.

3) And we find your Snape supremely satisfying. You are, after all, the queen of the Snape Bookstore Smut AU. If you had to write the AU of your life, what would it be? And what tropes would you use?

I honestly don’t even know how to answer this question. I will say though, if somebody adapted it to a film, I’d probably insist that it have a soundtrack similar to Beauty and the Beast (fun fact, that’s one of my favorites) and....I could see my love of writing being there still, but I could also picture it completely gone. For the sake of humoring myself, we’ll say I keep it. I go to a fancy school and get a great book deal, but then...oops….I’m having trouble writing and need to get some inspiration, so I go off on a little trip to seclude myself, but a couple days in, I have a meet-cute with an adorably quirky person -- probably a guy but I’m open to ladies too. I’d probably need help with something or we’re both reaching for the last copy of some book. And then I need the only one bed trope to come into play somewhere. That is one of my favorites, because I’m ridiculously simple sometimes… I’ll agree that it is so overdone, but it’s a trope for a reason! And I’m a sucker for it!

If we’re saying AU as in, I get to go into the Potter universe instead of anything like our own, I’m definitely going to Hogwarts and not Ilvermorny. I have spent most of my life picturing myself in Scotland, and going shopping in Diagon Alley. I’m not changing that because we finally get some answers on magic in America. Plus, accents.

Anyway. Hmm… As much as I want to be Slytherin, my Puff roots run deep, so I’d still stick with getting my taste of Slytherin elsewhere. *wink wink* I feel like such a basic person for saying this, but I’d have wanted to be there while Snape was a professor, because he’s got the sort of knowledge about his subject I admire in a teacher and I love learning from people who really know their shit. This obviously means I’d have to be around for the second Wizarding War, but I’ll be really honest and I doubt I’d have made it out alive. So...maybe no tropes for me there.

It has emotions, it has yearning, it has...books and Snape and smut. READ Even the Night Bleeds

Stay tuned for our third Horseman’s fic…

#author interview #solasnarealtai #even the night bleeds #After the War: Death Eaters Never Die #four horsemen #harry potter fanfiction #writers on tumblr #snape x narcissa #stop reading the tags and go to the fic already

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apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

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Look at the mesmerizing artwork by @teamhook. Can you spot the villain of this little story?

In the Offing

Chapter 18 — The Stable Boy

Summary: In which our heroine misplaces something

Chapter 18 on AO3

“A guilty conscience means at least you’ve got one

Who will forgive you when I’m gone?”

-Here He Comes, The Wallflowers

“That went further than I intended,” Killian whispered against her throat. She could feel his smile against the sensitive skin and knew that while his words sounded like the beginning of an apology, it was really more of an observation on their current status. Their completely unclothed, totally sated status.

“Hmm, there is something about the motion of the water,” Emma said by way of agreement. She was lazily running her fingers through his mussed hair, appreciating the way the thick, short locks felt silky in her hands. His laughter rumbled through his chest and she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through the hair there as well.

“I’ll make a pirate out of you yet, Swan.”

“Well, I need to do something special for a man who would trade a secluded afternoon with the most famous actress in the world to spend time with his unknown, magnet-for-trouble house guest.”

She should get up. Lord only knew if there were locks on the door or if they could be interrupted. However, she wasn’t lying about the sensation of being lulled to sleep by the waves. Although sleep was the furthest thing from her mind a few minutes ago.

“House guest? Is that the label we’re going with? How about girlfriend? Lover? Angel? Magnificent creature?” He punctuated each question with a nuzzle against a different section of exposed flesh. “Besides, I am a seafaring man and all sailors know that it’s bad luck to have a redhead on board. Thank goodness I didn’t have to take her out on the open seas. You may never have seen me again.”

“That would have been a shame. I do enjoy seeing you. The more of you, the better.” She allowed her hands to wander over the expanse of skin on display, thankful that the afternoon was warm since there was only one sheet and their picnic blanket from the other day to cover up with. Her eyes had drifted closed during their idle exchange but she cracked open her left to look at him as she felt the bed shift under his movements. He had propped himself up on his elbow and was resting on his side. She was surprised to see his expression had turned serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think it’s time we talk. I like the odds of you staying put since you’re naked,” he added with some of his usual swagger.

“If you’re ready,” she told him. Reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, she knew that nothing he said would make any difference to her. She was too far gone already. The only possible outcome was she would fall deeper under his spell. “No matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know what those words mean to me, love.” He pressed a forceful kiss to her lips and returned to his earlier position. His eyes focused out the window and glazed over as he became lost in his memories. When he spoke, his voice had deepened with emotion. “Liam and I moved here a decade ago with one purpose and one purpose only: To find Frederick’s bloody treasure trove. There was nothing for us in England, hadn’t been in years really. I was graduating and Liam was finishing up his enlistment with the Navy. To my surprise, he didn’t doubt for a moment my claims that I could find our fortune on the rocky beaches of Maine. So off we went without a backward glance at the shores of our ancestors.”

She could imagine a younger Killian, full of life and confidence, pulling along his older, more seasoned brother. After all, no one was more jaded than her and she was already prepared to follow him to the ends of the earth.

“It took us more time to find the pub in Storybrooke than it did to find the first treasure hoard. Oh, Emma, I wish you could have been there.” His grin was something that belonged on a schoolboy’s face, not a man in his mid-thirties. Unable to help herself, she reached up and traced it with her fingertips. He captured her wayward digits and pressed a heartfelt kiss to the tips. “Most pirate treasure was in the form of goods like timber, cotton, sugar, or tobacco. But good old Frederick didn’t disappoint. There was enough silver to make us wealthy even by today’s standards. There were some interesting historical bits as well that will one day find their way into a museum but I won’t bore you with those details.”

“Such a gentleman,” she murmured with a chuckle. “What did you do with it? Aren’t you supposed to alert the authorities when you find stuff like that?”

“I want to be a better man for you, Swan, but I will never be a saint. We haven’t disclosed any of our findings. We simply dip in when we need something extra. Some day we’ll let it see the light of day but for now it rests in Davy Jones’ locker.”

“Wait, I know that one. You mean it’s hidden under the sea?”

“No, we put it in my grandfather’s old locker and buried it under the cottage. It’s the only thing my father left behind when he abandoned us all those years ago.” When she rolled her eyes at him, he simply chuckled. “But to answer your question, the laws vary by state and country. Maine is actually quite lenient with their buried treasure as long as it isn’t found on state property. Luckily, two of the piles we found were on my land at the cottage. Technically, I didn’t own the land when I found the first one but it was under contract. I quickly remedied that and it was all above board when I found the second stash a few days later. That one had more coins and a few loose gemstones.”

“Gemstones?” Visions of The Goonies filled Emma’s mind and she had to stop herself from asking about One-Eyed Willy. Because, as fantastical as it seemed, the man who held her heart in his hands also had a knack for finding buried treasure. A gift she hoped he would survive considering someone out there desperately wanted to get their hands on it.

“Yes, darling,” he answered. “I think several have your name on them.”

“No way,” she argued. “I don’t want any of it. What if it’s cursed?”

“Cursed, you say?” He looked thoughtful as the sunlight was momentarily blocked by an errant storm cloud outside. “Yes, I suppose that may be true. Shortly after I uncovered the third pile, I went to the Rabbit Hole to celebrate my victory. Liam had just met Elsa so I was on my own for the most part those days. Not that it mattered, you know how this town takes to new people so I never lacked companionship for a drink or...whatever.”

“Whatever, indeed,” Emma teased in her best impression of his accent. She sensed he was coming to the part of his story that was the most difficult to relay and tried to infuse some humor into the conversation.

With a rueful grin that acknowledged her effort, both with the accent and the humor, he continued. “I met Milah that night. She was a sight to behold in the dim light of the bar, vibrant in a way that seemed too much for this little town.” He narrowed his eyes as they made contact with hers. “I didn’t know at first that she was married. Lads of twenty-four aren’t known for pumping the brakes when a beautiful woman gives them nothing but green lights and I was no different. Honestly, I was probably worse. I was a rash young man far from home and high on my own cleverness. It never occurred to me to question my good fortune or wonder why no one else was vying for her attention.”

“How far gone were you when you found out the truth?”

“Completely,” he confessed with a shaky breath. “The fight we had when I found out, well, it would have melted paint off the walls. I was a dirty little secret, the younger man who captured her attention but not her affections. It was always like that with her. She was so restless. Always moving, always searching. Nothing was ever enough. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t enough either. She wanted someone to rescue her from a life of boredom, someone who would carry her away and show her the world and fill her days with adventures. I couldn’t be that for her but I nearly destroyed myself trying to be.”

He was lost in the past, his eyes distant and filled with pain. Reliving the end of the most meaningful relationship of your life wasn’t easy, Emma definitely understood that. Especially when you gave all you had to it and it still collapsed in pieces around you.

“Her husband came to visit me one night toward the end. Offered me money to break it off,” he scoffed as if the idea still insulted him. “I refused of course, convinced he was the villain in our little drama and that I would win the heart of the fair maiden in the end. At it turned out, I was wrong on both counts. The villain was the fair maiden. Mr. Gold and I were both pawns in her scheme to escape a life she hated. When she had the opportunity, she took the money and ran. In my kinder moments, I feel sorry for her knowing she must have felt trapped. But then I remember the way the whole town thought I killed her and any kindness I’m able to scare up disappears. Just like she did.”

“You’ve never heard from her? You have no idea what happened to her?”

“No. When it ended, it ended badly. She wanted me to take her husband’s money so we could leave town together, was angry when I refused to be chased off into the night. It was then that I realized she didn’t care who she was with, as long as she wasn’t in Storybrooke. It was a tough blow to stomach. I only saw her one time after that, a couple of nights before she disappeared. She showed up at the cottage to apologize. Told me she would never regret our relationship but it was time to move on. She left the map as a parting gift. I knew then that she meant to leave. Make no mistake, Emma, Milah is alive and well somewhere on this globe, living her life to the fullest and not sparing a thought for anyone in this town.”

“Then her absence is no great loss,” she observed.

He shook his head slowly as if he wasn’t sure he agreed with her assessment. “The day after she stopped by for the last time was when I pulled my idiotic stunt. I got drunk and tried to sail directly into a Nor’easter. Liam caught me at the docks and insisted on coming with me when he couldn’t talk me out of leaving. Our boat capsized about a mile up the coast. I’m only glad I was able to pull him to shore.”

“You saved his life? One-handed in a gale?”

With a bitter twist of his lips, he bit out, “Not sure you’ll allowed to claim such a thing when the only reason a person was in danger in the first place is because of you. He was trapped under the broken mast. I’m still not sure how I got him out but I crushed my hand in the process. Got a pretty nasty infection and the doctors told me the hand couldn’t be saved and if I wasn’t lucky, I’d lose the arm too. Seemed like a no-brainer.”

She felt the tension gripping him and trailed her hands down his left arm, running her fingers over the smooth scars she felt there. He didn’t pull away but he didn’t relax either. “We’re all scarred in one way or another, Killian. Yours are a bit more on display than the average person but this shows that you are a survivor. I’m beginning to think it might be a bad idea for me to find Milah. She has a lot to answer for.”

“You know, I’ve tried to track her down but I’m afraid I don’t have your abilities at finding those who don’t wish to be found. I thought I had tracked her to Paris a few years ago, there was a new artist there that had her style of sketching but I could never be sure and they disappeared before I could make contact. I still have a file on my desktop with the various artwork I found in the gallery catalogues. I always thought I’d pick up the search again later.”

A little afraid to hear his answer, she nevertheless asked, “Why do you want to find her?”

“At first, I missed her. I wanted to hear her voice. Pathetic, right?” When Emma simply gave him a look that clearly disagreed, he smiled at her. “Hmm, my secretly romantic Swan. You have a tender heart that I adore but don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know.” He looked at her with such fondness that she was tempted to go for round two right then. However, on some level, she knew this conversation was more important than their physical connection.

Unaware of her thoughts, he admitted, “Lately I’ve wanted closure. Not for the relationship. It’s been dead and gone for years. For the case, in order to clear my name. I’ve done a lot of things that I’m not particularly proud of since I arrived here but I would like any doubt removed about this crime.”

“If you don’t mind sharing, perhaps we can find her together,” she offered shyly.

“Emma, everything I have is yours,” Killian told her. With a laugh he added, “Including the gold bars I found in the third treasure hoard I uncovered.” Taking her in his arms, he held her as they laid in the Captain’s Quarters in peaceful silence.

—

The rain that had threatened in the afternoon made good on its promise by the time they arrived back at the cottage with carryout from the pizza place. Fortunately, it was the kind of summer rain that moved through quickly and left the air feeling crisp and clean.

After her third slice of pepperoni, Emma leaned back in the patio chair and sighed. “I’m supposed to meet Graham tonight to search the woods. I guess I should head back to Mary Margaret’s place eventually anyway.”

With a quizzical look, Killian took a sip of his iced tea. “A date with another man and moving out? Have I done something to offend you?”

“Very funny,” she retorted. “I think we’ve gotten things a little out of order but there’s no reason to rush into this.”

“Darling, we have already fallen headfirst into the fast lane. There’s no reason to get scared now. Besides, I happen to know that David and Mary Margaret have reached the toothbrush phase of their relationship. You will be taking your sanity into your own hands if you head back there tonight. David is a loud...sleeper.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that,” Emma said with a shiver of disgust. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to stay with you for the foreseeable future. If you don’t have any other plans, you can also join me on my date. We’re looking for bodies in the woods.”

With a grimace, Killian studied her profile. “Okay but only if I get to plan our next outing. A man likes some mystery in a relationship but dead bodies are a little overboard.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Jones.”

Forewarned about the activities for the evening consisting mainly of traversing hilly, overgrown terrain, Emma did a better job of dressing the part. Outfitted with flashlights from Killian’s emergency kit, she knew if the search lasted beyond the light of the midsummer sun they wouldn’t injure themselves in the dark at least.

Arriving at the Sheriff’s station shortly thereafter, Emma was surprised to find it empty and unlocked. Since another brief summer rain was moving through town, she texted Graham and they decided to wait it out at the station. Twenty minutes later, the rain was over but she still hadn’t heard from the sheriff. “That’s weird. He’s usually better about replying.”

“Text him a lot, do you?”

With a amused shake of her head, she admonished him. “Now is not the time to be jealous, Killian. He’s a friend and, unless I’m mistaken, he’s your friend too.”

“He’s not an enemy,” Killian conceded grudgingly. With a hint of teasing, he said, “But perhaps he is competition.” He moved around the station nonchalantly as if he might find the sheriff under a pile of papers or resting in one of the cells at the back of the open room.

With a deep breath, she walked over to him and linked her arms around his neck. “Not in my eyes. I’m not sure how to convince you that you’ve ruined me for other men.”

“I can think of some persuasive methods that will get your point across.” His roguish eyebrow was cocked in a way that she always found so endearing and sexy. “Why don’t we postpone this search party and you can give it your best shot? I promise to keep an open mind.”

“Keeping an open mind has never been your problem,” she laughed, playfully punching him in the arm. “I have a job to do so stop trying to distract me. We’ll have to go without Graham. We’re losing daylight and I’m running out of time before Henry comes home.”

What she didn’t add was the crossroads his arrival would bring. As much as she had fought against this thing with Killian, now that she was in, she was all in. While the four hour drive to Boston was not an insurmountable distance, she found the idea of being separated distasteful. She knew it was a conversation they needed to have and she wasn’t avoiding it exactly. Her rational mind kept reminding her that they had only met a month ago and people didn’t fall in love and move to different states after a few weeks of knowing someone. Especially single mothers who had children to think about.

Having officially given up on the sheriff, they headed toward the town line. Minutes later, they arrived to find the cruiser already parked on the narrow shoulder, driver side door open and cabin lights on. Jumping out of the truck, Emma exchanged a worried look with Killian and observed, “This looks like trouble.”

He followed her to the cruiser and placed his hand on the front seat. “It’s dry so he probably didn’t get here until after the rain moved through.”

“Graham!” Shouting his name repeatedly probably wasn’t an effective strategy but damn if she could think of anything else to do. Settling in the driver’s seat she found the keys still in the ignition and his walkie on the dashboard. Picking it up, she paged David. Within a minute, he answered, confusion evident in his tone.

“Emma? Why do you have Graham’s walkie?”

“We found his cruiser at the town line. No sign of him. We’re going out to the woods to search but you probably want to get here as quickly as possible. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole scene.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait for me.”

True to his word, David’s battered old Ford pick-up pulled behind their truck in record time. Mary Margaret had made the journey with him and as soon as the car was in park, she rushed to Emma’s side. “Still no sign of him?”

“No,” Killian answered with his eyes scanning the thick woods.

“He headed this direction and he was in a hurry,” the brunette observed, her finger pointing toward an invisible trail as if it were obvious. At Emma’s silent question, she explained, “All-State Orienteering champion and the best tracker in town besides Ruby. Knowing your way around the forest is still a skill set that’s valued in Maine.”

“Sure. I mean, why not?” Emma said sarcastically. “Why don’t you lead the way then? We’ve already wasted time waiting around the station.”

Grabbing the flashlight that David handed her, Mary Margaret stepped off the shoulder and moved noiselessly into the woods. She would occasionally murmur an observation regarding a broken twig or boot print in the soft ground. Emma made a point to try to locate whatever signs the other woman noted on their pursuit but was only able to see the tracks occasionally. In no time at all, they had circled back up the hill to come out at the road not even a quarter of a mile from the cruiser. “Great. Back were we started.”

“No,” Mary Margaret disagreed. “Look here.” She squatted down and shined a beam of light on the asphalt.

Sure enough, Emma saw some kind of liquid that had dripped on the road. “What is that? Motor oil?” Reaching down, she lightly pressed her finger in one of the droplets and smeared it against her thumb. Looking at the bright red color, a chill ran through her. “Blood.”

“And tire tracks from an SUV if I had to guess,” David added, his light illuminating the wide tracks partially visible on the wet dirt of the shoulder. “Someone took him.” He immediately started back toward his truck, getting on his radio and calling the other deputy to round up some volunteers and meet them out at the woods.

—

Entering the cottage at four the following morning, Emma dropped on the couch in exhaustion. They hadn’t found any other clues as to the whereabouts of the sheriff or who grabbed him off the deserted road. Had he been followed out to the town line? Is that why he hadn’t responded to her text? Why would he have not reached out to her or David if he thought he was in trouble?

Settling next to her, Killian pushed her hair back behind her ear. “We won’t find him by staying up and worrying. You need to rest.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that this has to do with me.”

“With you? Why do you think so? Didn’t you say he found something in the woods? Something related to a disappearance that happened when you were a baby.”

“I know it’s crazy...”

“I didn’t say that, love. If you think this has something to do with you, I wouldn’t bet against your instincts.” Smiling at her with an expression of full support, he added, “You’ll figure it out. But it doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“He could be out there hurt, Killian, or worse. I think we need to regroup. Go through everything again. I must have missed something. And we’re going to need all hands on deck. The situation is escalating. When are Liam and Elsa supposed to come back?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you should convince him to come back sooner.”

“That will be a pleasant conversation,” Killian muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps I’ll call Elsa instead. She’s the more reasonable one.”

“Coward,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him softly. She would never get tired of this, having him within arm’s reach. His very presence made all her worries melt into the background.

“You have more than enough bravery for the both of us,” he complimented her. “But I’ll do as you ask. After all, he’s the one who brought you into this mess. Not that I’m complaining.”

“See that you don’t. I have ways of dealing with complainers,” she ordered tartly, forcing herself to get lost in this moment with him. As she got up to walk away, his fingers hooked into the pocket of her jeans and tugged her back into his lap.

“Saucy. I like that.”

“Behave, Dr. Jones.”

There weren’t any coherent words spoken as the early morning light started to break over the horizon. He had decided to disobey, misbehaving in the most delightful ways.

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yet-another-fan-girl9 · 4 years ago

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Different Worlds (5)

Summary: You’re the youngest Winchester, a girl who needs to show her big brothers that she doesn’t need help. Then one day, on a totally normal vampire hunt that you had all under control, three meddling Avengers come barging in.

Warnings: language, violence, canon divergence, slow burn, me making stuff up

Word Count: 2001

~*~

Chapter 5: Answers and Headaches

The Winchesters led the Avengers to a large, run-down building that was secluded in the woods. Bucky looked at Steve, then back at the building. If this was a trap, they could take them. The two Winchesters didn’t have any magic… that he knew of.

“We’re home!” (Y/N) shouted as she opened a door to reveal a large, open room. The inside was much nicer than the outside.

She went down the metal staircase first, followed by her brother and the strange man in the trench coat. The Avengers went down after them, one by one. Tony had collapsed his nanotech suit, but Bucky saw that he kept one of his repulsors on his hand.

A tall man with shaggy brown hair walked out of the next room. His already annoyed expression became darker when he noticed Bucky and the rest of the Avengers. The next person to greet them was a young man with dark brown hair. His expression was similar to the first man’s, but when he saw the superheroes, his expression brightened. Then the red-haired book thief walked in next. Her large smile grew larger when she saw the large group of people.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked when he noticed their expressions.

“We,” the tall man forced a smile, “have a guest.”

“A guest that isn’t the superhero group behind us?” (Y/N) clarified.

Then a dark-haired man in a black suit swaggered in to join everyone. The redhead, Bucky thought he heard (Y/N) call her Rowena, smiled even wider.

“Hello, Squirrel,” the man said to Dean in a British accent. Then he turned to (Y/N). “Do I have a nickname for you, dear? Rabbit? Do you like carrots?”

“Crowley,” Dean growled. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Came to visit my mummy.” Crowley gestured to Rowena. Bucky’s mind really couldn’t keep up with all this. “I caught wind that she had a very special book.”

“Can we just put everything on pause,” Steve interrupted, “and catch us up to speed?”

The rest of the Avengers mumbled their agreement.

“Everyone into the library,” (Y/N) ordered.

Everyone walked into the next room and found a seat at one of the tables. The Avengers on one side, (Y/N) and her gang on the other.

“First, introductions,” Tony spoke up. “You know who we are.”

“Meh,” (Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t follow your shitty reality TV show lives.”

The billionaire opened his mouth in offense but Bucky smiled at her. She smiled back and then quickly looked away. Was she blushing?

“I’m Captain America but you can call me Steve Rogers,” Steve began. “This is my friend Bucky Barnes, he was the Winter Soldier, and my other friend Sam Wilson. He’s the Falcon.” He introduced the rest of the present Avengers, pointing at them when he said their name and superhero alias. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Uh, I’m (Y/N) Winchester.” She gave a small wave. “My brothers: Sam and Dean. That’s Castiel, we call him Cas, Jack, and Rowena. Then there’s Crowley.”

“And that was actually Lucifer back there? The Devil? Satan?” the Avengers’ Sam asked. The Winchesters, Cas, and Jack nodded in confirmation.

“So what the fuck even happened at the cafe?” Clint raised his hand like he was in school.

“Lucifer escaped,” Cas explained in a low voice. “We used the Magicae Libro and Rowena as bait to trap him again.”

“The ‘Magicae Libro?’” Nat asked. “The Magic Book? Very creative.”

“They didn’t need to be creative when it was the only one,” (Y/N) pointed out. Bucky saw Cas narrow his eyes at her.

“The Magicae Libro is the world’s first spellbook,” said Cas. “Written by witches who were guided by Lucifer.”

“Goddamned witches are a thing too?” Bucky thought about all the supernatural entities he had learned about in the past month: vampires, ghosts, Satan, and now witches? What else was there?

“Yes, ‘goddamned witches’ are a thing,” the Scottish woman said in a slightly harsh tone. “I’m a witch. One of the most powerful, I would say.”

“So who took the Devil?” Tony put everyone back on track.

“Some angels.” (Y/N) shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Angels?” multiple Avengers exclaimed.

“Yes, we exist,” Cas answered in prediction to the questions heading his way.

“You’re an angel?” Steve’s eyes were wide with awe.

“So Lucifer and angels exist,” Wanda began, “does that mean God and demons exist too?”

“Yes.” (Y/N)’s side of the table answered simultaneously.

“Are you sure?”

“Considering I am literally the King of Hell,” Crowley said proudly as his eyes turned blood-red, “I am very sure.”

“And God?”

“Chuck can go suck a dick, honestly,” (Y/N) blurted out.

“Chuck?”

“My grandfather went by the pen name ‘Chuck Shurley’ for a while,” Jack explained. “He still insists to be called ‘Chuck.’”

“Grandfather?” Clint raises his eyebrows.

“God has a fucking pen name?”

“Grandfather!?”

“Why does ‘Chuck Shurley’ sound familiar?” Nat tapped her finger on the table as she tried to remember.

“Grandfather!?”

“He wrote a shit ton of books based on our lives,” Dean shook his head. “He called it ‘Supernatural.’”

“Grandfather!?”

Wanda sucked in a breath and looked at Nat. “I think we read one of the books during a girl’s night.”

“GRANDFATHER!?” Clint was shouting now.

“My father is Lucifer. I’m a Nephilim,” Jack unhelpfully explained. Bucky swore that every time they tried to explain something, more questions would arise.

“Please explain,” Tony groaned and rubbed his head.

“A Nephilim is—”

“I know what a Nephilim is. How is your father the fucking Devil?”

“My mother was Kelly Kline,” the young man said before he was interrupted again.

“Wasn’t she President Rooney’s aide?” Steve asked.

“Yes. My father briefly possessed the President of the United States.” Jack was only met with silence as the Avengers tried to wrap their head around the very large info dump. Bucky could see (Y/N) trying to hide a smirk. “He got my mother pregnant. She died giving birth to me.”

“I thought she only died in 2017?”

“This kiddo is only seven years old.” (Y/N) placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“I need a break.” Tony placed his head on the table.

“I’ll get some beers,” Dean offered and left the room.

~*~

You walked over to Bucky with your beer in hand. He gave you a charming smile as you sat down in the chair that was just recently vacated by Steve.

“How are you doing?” you asked.

“Fine, I guess.” Bucky studied your face and you could feel your face warm up. “Are you some supernatural being too?”

“Nope. I’m nothing special.”

“I think you’re very special.”

“Even my brothers are more special than me,” you sighed.

“I think you’re greatly underestimating your value, doll.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname. You usually hated talking about yourself but Bucky’s compliments were nice. Very nice.

“S-so do you think this is below your paygrade?”

“Sweetheart,” you blushed at the second nickname, “I think this is above my paygrade. It’s above all of our paygrades.”

“You guys deal with this stuff a lot?” Steve joined the conversation.

“Yeah, I guess.” You shrugged. “Sometimes we just go on small hunts. Some monsters would be killing people and hunters go get rid of them. For some reason, it’s always me and my brothers who have to deal with the Apocalypse or the random angel who wants to be God.”

“The Apocalypse happened?”

“We stopped the Apocalypse from happening.”

“When?”

“Way before you guys formed,” your Sam said. “Like in 2009.”

“I had just become Iron Man,” Tony shook his head, “and you guys stopped the Apocalypse?”

“Sometimes I miss the Apocalypse,” you confess. “Simpler times.”

“Definitely simpler than the fucking leviathans,” Dean agreed.

“Oh, Chuck. I hated the leviathans.”

“Let’s skip over the fact that you miss the fucking Apocalypse and move on to ‘What is a leviathan?’” Avenger Sam asked.

“We accidentally opened a portal to Purgatory in 2012 and a bunch of shapeshifting leviathans escaped.”

“Have you heard of Dick Roman?” You looked around the room at each member of the Avengers. Tony, Natasha, and Clint nodded. “He was the leviathan leader.”

“You said they were shapeshifters,” Bucky said slowly. “Did they impersonate you three and go on a killing spree?”

“Yep!” You beamed at him. You don’t know why, but it felt like a weight lifted off your chest when Bucky knew you weren’t actually a serial killer.

“You face monsters and it seems that all odds are against you,” Natasha pointed out. “You guys must be good at your jobs if you’re still alive.”

“Oh, no,” Dean corrected. You smiled. Their reaction was going to be hilarious. “All of us here have died before. Multiple times.”

The Avengers looked like fish, opening and closing their mouths as they processed the information.

“How?” Bucky looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“Sammy was stabbed and I made a deal with a demon to bring him back,” Dean started. “Because of the deal, I was dragged to hell until Cas dragged my ass back out. Then there was the whole Mark of Cain thing when I became a demon.”

“The good times,” Crowley sighed as he reminisced.

“I was stuck in a time loop once where Dean died every day.” Your Sam shuddered at the memory.

“Remember when those two hunters killed you ��cause you started the Apocalypse?” You smirk. You had missed that fateful night as you were off hunting somewhere else.

“Raphael made me explode. Then Lucifer exploded me. Then I imploded because of the leviathans. Then I was stabbed by some lady. Then Lucifer killed me again.”

“God smote me.” Jack frowned.

“Lucifer killed me twice,” Rowena said simply as she looked at her nails.

“I had to die to become a demon.”

“I was smote… smited… smoted,” you gave up and continued, “by Gadreel, an angel, when he possessed Sammy. Then I was mauled by a werewolf.” You wrinkled your nose at the memory. Honestly, you didn’t know which one was worse but you ended up in Hell both times. That was literally a pain in the ass.

“You guys really know how to throw a party,” Tony snarked.

“I don’t see how that’s a party,” Natasha responded.

“I understood that reference!” Steve said with a smile on his face.

“I don’t understand that reference.” Cas looked around, confused.

You sighed and changed the topic, “Do you have any more questions?”

“Well, yes,” Avenger Sam said. “But I don’t think I have the mental capacity for any of the answers.

“That’s for sure,” you heard Bucky say. You let out a snort and Avenger Sam glared at both of you.

“Then it’s time for you all to leave,” Dean announced. “Thanks for stopping by and drinking our beer, but now we have to get back to work.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed and stood up. “We have some work to do as well.”

The Avengers made their way back into the map room and up the metal staircase. They said goodbye one by one and left the bunker until only Bucky was left.

“I hope I’ll see you again,” you said and held out your hand.

“I hope so too.” He took your hand with both of his. How did you not notice his left hand, and possibly arm, was metal? “I want to learn more about you and your work.”

“You know where I live now. See you ‘round, Bucky.”

He smiled, dropped your hand, and gave you one last wave before he left. You knew you had a stupid smile on your face, but for once you let yourself be happy. You stood there for a minute before Rowena broke the silence.

“I thought they’d never leave!” she exclaimed. “I just wanted to play with the Magicae Libro.” A moment of silence. “Where is the Magicae Libro?”

“Where’s Crowley?” Jack asked and you all looked around the library.

“Aw, fuck!”

~*~

Tag List (strike though means tag didn’t work):

@grav3dollie-666 @broco8

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idkwhatimdoingbutitscool · 5 years ago

Text

Please Don’t Leave Me

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Y/N (female reader)

zombie apocolypse!au, high school!au, enemies to lovers!au

genre: angst and smut (smut in future chapters)

warnings in this chapter: cursing, mentions of death, a bus crash

part 01/?

It all happened so suddenly. Your last bus ride home became the theme of your nightmares. How could this happen? What made everything go downhill so fast? The last thing you remember from your life before the epidemic is grabbing the arm of the douchiest guy in school, Hwang Hyunjin, as the bus swerved and flipped over. You hated him. You hated the surprised look on his face when you grabbed him. You hated how fast he grabbed onto a pole with one hand and gripped you tighter with the other. You felt the bus flip and then it all went black. Bits and pieces flashed by. Hyunjin lying twisted on the roof of the bus, dead or unconscious you couldn’t tell, “H-Hyunjin?” The taste of blood seeped into your mouth as you spoke. Black. “She’s alive!” “Help me carry them out!” “Hurry!” Darkness. Lying in the back of a truck. Hyunjin’s hand on yours. Nothing. Stitches. Blood. Emptiness.

After coming to in a tent a nurse greeted you, “Hi, Y/N! I’m Nancy, your primary nurse. Do you know where you are or what happend?” Your eyes widened as you continued to stare at her, “You were in an accident three weeks ago. Do you remember?” You could only nod and she continued, “Only you and another boy survived. Do you know why the bus swerved?” No. You thought, not managing to get it out and shaking your head instead. “Okay,” She gulped, “The bus driver was startled by the appearance of a man in the street. The thing about the man is that he was dead.” You cocked your eyebrow. She laid her hand on yours, “He was a zombie. The majority of the world’s population has been infected with a virus.” Your breathing became heavy and sped up. Nancy squeezed your hand, “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

It hurt. Your entire body felt numb. Regaining your speech went by faster than the doctors expected, but physical therapy was exhausting. You didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone have to learn to walk again. You laid in bed facing away from the tent opening, not moving when you heard footsteps approaching, “Y/N, you have a visitor.” Your nurse walked away, leaving you alone with an unknown person. You pleaded with the universe hoping it was your family coming to take you home, “Hi,” a voice whispered breaking your heart. It was Hyunjin. Of course it wasn’t your fucking family. Shit!

“Hi. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” you turned your head to your first science partner freshman year. “Hi,” the boy whispered, “Hyunjin.” He scoffed, almost offended that you did not already know who he was. After receiving the instructions for your first lab experiment you spoke, “Do you want to get the beakers and measuring struff and I can get the ingredients or...” Your voice trailed off as he walked to another table. In between laughing with his friends and flirting with girls he would whisper to some other asshole fuckboy types and then they would look over at you.

He walked towards you and sat down next to your bed. You heard him trying not to breathe, “I don’t know if you remember the accident, but I was there too. God, I was so scared. I was only out for a couple of days. Fuck, I can’t even imagine having to learn to walk and shit-” “Leave,” You interupted his self obsessive monologe, “Go!” you repeated not hearing him leave. “I was trying to be nice. God. I wasn’t the one you grabbed you,” his voice trailed off as he left you alone. How fucking self involved, you thought, He didn’t even ask if I was okay! Your thoughts drifted off as you started on your third depression nap of the day.

Weeks had passed and your doctor decided it was time for you to walk around camp. “No!” you protested as four nurses carried you off the bed and onto the floor. The nurses kept trying to tempt you, “Yes.” “It’ll be fine.” “You’ll get to see your room assignment.” “Don’t you want to eat with everybody?” You frankly did not care about your “room” and did definitely not want to see anybody let alone eat with them. Though after seeing the trouble you put the ladies through you decided to just get up. You instantly regretted it as one of the nurses spoke, “See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?” You rolled your eyes and took your old lady walker and started shuffling out of the tent.

As soon as you walked out of the tent you were shocked to see Hwang Hyunjin seemingly waiting for you. “This is Hyunjin. The boy from your same accident. We thought it best that he’d be the one showing you around,” Nancy said, anticipating your reaction. You rolled your eyes, “Seriously? Why him?” Hyunjin laughed as Nancy patted you on the shoulder before walking back into the tent. He lightly punched your arm, “Come on. You know you’re happy to see me.” “Can we just get this over with,” you asked, “I want to go back to bed.”

The hospital consisted of four tents for long term patients and one for quicker visits. As we left the hospital area you saw hundreds of people building a tall fence stretching for miles. “As you can probably tell by the barn, this used to be a farm. We’ve all taken to different jobs to help out. Those guys are building a fence to keep out zombies, there are some famers, tailors, and a whole bunch of other people doing random stuff. What do you think you’ll do once you get better,” Hyunjin asked. You shrugged, slowing down your pace trying to soak everything in. He stopped, “I know it’s a lot to get used to, but you will. I know that we never got along before, but it might be nice seeing a familiar face.” You kept walking, “Sure.”

You weren’t listening to a thing Hyunjin said, there was too much to think about. Were your friends okay? Where is your family? You sighed just thinking about having to get a job. You thought that at least during an apocalypse you would not have to do anything, but you were wrong. What were you even going to do? You were not good at anything. Hyunjin interrupted your thoughts as you entered the giant red barn, “So in here we do a bunch of stuff. It’s mainly used for town meetings, but sometimes the CATC puts on plays and performances, hold dances and talent shows, and just hang out here for people to come and be entertained.” You sat down on a haybale, “What?” “Oh right, sorry. The CATC is the Community Arts and Theater Center. I founded it a couple months back. It really helped boost morale,” he smiled looking to you for approval. “Cool,” you hesitated, “I didn’t think you were into that stuff.” He laughed, “No one really knew about it, but I’ve danced and shit since I was little.” You nodded.

Everything besides the barn was just there as a necessity. The river that ran through each side of the fence, all of the tents, the hospital, nothing was there for fun. You respected Hyunjin for creating something for everybody to let loose and have a good time. You thought about how he was in school, cocky and popular. He loved the fact that everyone knew who he was and either wanted to be him or be around him. You hated it. You hated the way he looked at his friends when he had to sit next to you in class or the way he scoffed when you answered a question wrong in class. You hated him and everything he stood for, but now it feels different. Something has changed. “Hyunjin,” you whispered. His head turned, “Yeah.” You looked at your feet as soon as his eyes met yours, “Can you show me where I’m staying?” “Of course,” he said before carrying you down from the hay.

After walking for what seemed like an eternity you guys reached a small green tent. Hyunjin ran next to the tent, “Ta-da! This is your place. Very cool,” he ran over to a navy blue tent across from yours, “This is my tent.” Your guys’ tent seemed almost secluded from everybody else’s. “Why are we a little bit away from the other tents?” you asked. He walked closer to you and lowered his voice, “Do you not have the dreams?” You shook your head, “No, what dreams.” His eyes stopped sparkling, emptiness absorbing him, “About the crash.” You were confused, “Okay, but why would we need to be apart from everyone because we have dreams?” Hyunjin sighed, “Can I take you back to the hospital now?” You nodded and started to walk.

When you got back to the ward you said goodbye to Hyunjin who had not said a word since talking to you about his dreams. He waved and walked away dragging his feet in the grass. You watched him as he walked away, a sense of longing building in your chest with every step he took. “Y/N,” Nancy ripped you out of thought. You turn around to face her, “Oh sorry. I didn’t know you were here. What’s wrong.” “Nothing. I was just here to check up on you after your walk. How was it?” Nancy started fluffing your pillow, antsy. You could tell she wanted to say something.

“Yeah it was good. I ever walked a little without my walker,” you sat on the bed next to Nancy. She put the pillow down, “Listen, dear. We need this part of the ward open for new patients so we’re going to have to discharge you within the next two days.” You nodded, “Can I take the walker?” She laughed, “Yes you can. Just come back with it in two months. We’ll do a check-up then too. Keep doing your physical therapy and you should not have a problem walking within a month or so.” She walked out of the tent leaving you alone with your thoughts.

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin au #stray kids au #skz au #stray kids angst #skz angst #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin

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untitledtallgeesepodcast · 3 years ago

Text

[TRANCRIPT] EPISODE 14: ROAD TRIP (NO APOLOGIES)

Cathy 00:03

Hello and welcome back to Untitled Tallgeese Podcast, a podcast where four old friends rewatch and discuss Gundam Wing. I am Cathy, your moderator for this episode, and I am joined as always, by Kat, Mallory, and Caitlin. If you have been following along, you know that this week's episode — Episode 27, Locus of Victory and Defeat and Episode 28, Passing Destinies — are recap episodes, following the unofficial Season Finale from last time. As mentioned previously, we will be spending the bulk of this episode discussing a topic near and dear to all of our hearts, Gundam Wing fanfic from the early 2000ish through the lens of one very special fic, Road Trip by Sunhawk. But first, there isn't a lot to talk about that's new in episodes 27 and 28, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention two bits of new information we got. First, that Relena has switched wardrobes, and is now in a Sanc Kingdom school uniform. And she no longer is informing Heero that he needs to come over here and kill her but rather to return to her, echoing Quatre's telepathic insight into Heero's Golden Aura from the end of Episode 26. And second, Treize is now being placed under house arrest by the Romefeller Foundation for his speech in front of Duke Dermail. At the end of Episode 28 we see that he's not alone in house arrest, but rather joined by a ghostly Lady Une still in her peaceful ambassador outfit, who joins Treize, as he looks at blueprints of yet another mysterious Gundam-like mobile suit on his laptop, which spoiler alert, is Epyon. I think, you know, these are interesting episodes. And Caitlin, I know you had something to say about the way the recaps are done in 27 and 28.

Caitlin 01:45

Yeah, I think that it's really interesting how they, I mean, that new information comes to us via these framing narratives, where you have Relena, and a little bit Heero, and then Treize narrating everything that's happened to them. So we get a Relena narration where she's much more strongly identifying herself as the ruler of the Sanc Kingdom. And then we get a Treize narration that links together a lot of his dubious political thought, in the midst of his defeat.

Kat 02:18

It felt like the first time we really understood like, exactly what Lady Une thought his politics were, or his plans were and how he changed those plans, like explicitly.

Cathy 02:29

Yes, there was this moment where he reflects on the beauty of where he is trapped, which I believe is the Luxembourg base, but I don't know if they ever say that. And he articulates it as if to say, "this is what I wanted to preserve. This is what I joined OZ thinking it was to preserve," and then traces his change in thought, which I don't remember that ever coming through necessarily. What he thought he was doing originally before he became the Treize that we know.

Kat 02:56

Cathy, I did want to say that it felt like Treize was really reciting from your theory of anime from last episode when he talks about these "warriors with rebellious wings," and how their like purity of spirit completely changed his life.

Cathy 03:12

Yes, I love it. I felt like [laughter]--

Mallory 03:15

Yeah, I wrote, "Cathy! strong wills, what purity! theory of anime!" in my notes. So there you go.

Caitlin 03:22

Now we have to address the possibility that Cathy is Treize. Treize was God, he was Hannibal, and now he's Cathy.

Cathy 03:28

It does, I think, speak to why I've always found Treize a really fascinating character, even if I think he is a huge asshole, and none of his ideas make any sense. But you know, I am always drawn to this idea of people who, and I think I phrased it as "get sucked into other people's deranged orbits?" and Treize is both a person who creates a deranged orbit around himself [laughter] and also gets sucked into the orbit of the Gundam pilots, so I do love that about him.

Caitlin 03:56

Interesting. That explains a lot about you, but also makes me understand Treize a little bit better framing him that way.

Kat 04:03

I know you're sick of her but I did like that Une finally figured out the soul of OZ, that the purpose of battles isn't limited to making ideals into reality.

Mallory 04:11

Since you brought it up... why does Treize refer to her as like, my love? Or beloved? He says, "Lady Une, my love, rest in peace." So is the show trying to make me believe that Treize has feelings for Lady Une?

Kat 04:26

Is it just awkward writing?

Caitlin 04:28

I think it's just awkward writing but also kind of that. I think the dub at least -- and I only listened to the dub this time -- decided that Treize was in love with her and is going with that.

Kat 04:39

Both of these episodes felt very much like, "Hey, remember this heterosexual pairing?"

Cathy 04:44

Yes! And I remember one time we talked about whether or not this show actually ships heterosexual pairings or just, they thought they were but they're just so horrible at writing heterosexual romances [laughter] that everything comes off really strange and this is definitely an example of that. Like, I could see both sides of this, that we are supposed to believe that Treize had romantic feelings for Lady Une and then it just was written so poorly because nobody on the show has met a real woman before. [laughter] Or, and I guess this would be my interpretation, it isn't that he is like romantically interested in her or was in love with her. But she was very important to him and represented, you know, one of the people that I think he wielded the biggest influences on and that touches him deeply. And her quote unquote, fate being that she is, quote unquote, dead at the end of Episode 26 weighs heavily on him.

Caitlin 05:40

But she's not dead. [laughing] Why does he say it? I know that in the episode, it's meant to be a fake out like, Oh, we know, we saw Lady Une die. And then Treize is talking to her as though she's dead so it's really not until the very end of episode 28 that we get the reveal that she's alive. It doesn't make a lot of sense.

Cathy 05:59

So let's address fake outs because there are characters talking in episodes 27 and 28, and I'm not sure if we are supposed to believe that they're talking at the time of the flashback footage being shown to us, or afterwards, right now, in the world of Episode 28.

Kat 06:16

I think Relena's was the only narration that actually seems like 100% anchored to what we were looking at. So... like Treize definitely we hear his earlier thoughts at the beginning and then he explains how they've changed, but with Heero it's just sort of like A, and then B.

Mallory 06:34

Right, when Heero in Episode 27 says, "I don't consider the other Gundam pilots my comrades, I've never had comrades from the start," I have no idea if this narration is trying to tell me that Heero at this point in time currently, after Episode 26, does not believe the Gundam pilots are his friends. Or if he's referring to how he felt back then.

Caitlin 07:00

I under-understood that as definitely he's talking about that point in the flashback.

Cathy 07:05

It is kind of thrown out there. And it seems like by now he would have had so much interaction with these guys, especially at least with Trowa, that it would be kind of wild for him to say that [laughing]

Caitlin 07:18

He considers Trowa his comrade boyfriend, y'know? [cat meows in background]

Mallory 07:20

It was making me laugh because we've been reading this fic, this road trip arc. And it's kind of incredible how much this arc -- and we'll talk about this -- how much this arc and formed my idea of what the Gundam pilots' relationships were or like, their, their relationship dynamics or that they /had/ relationships with each other. So when I read all these fic, I was thinking like, "Wow, I didn't see any of this coordination in the show. Like there are no safe houses in the episodes that I watched. Oh, that like, it's okay, that must have come later." And now I'm later in the series, [laughing] and I'm finding out that actually, they interact very tangentially for the most part, where I was imagining a lot more camaraderie as the episodes progressed.

Kat 08:11

I know in Episode Zero, you were really distraught to learn that it's not like, "let's all five meet up and team up!" ...

Mallory 08:19

Yeah!

Kat 08:19

...kind of anime

Mallory 08:21

I mean, I'm really enjoying where it's going now. And I enjoy the sort of bits of relationships that we're getting and the ways that their personalities bounce off each other. And that's what makes, that's what makes Gundam Wing such a rich field to mine for fic, because you get all of these like, glimpses of what these characters could be to each other, within the canon of the show. And it's really easy for writers like Sunhawk to kind of just like, take them and run.

Cathy 08:52

Yes, so let's talk about Road Trip by Sunhawk. Road Trip is part of a larger, 17 part series called the Road Trip Arc by its fans. We are going to be talking mostly about just the first installment -- which is actually barely shippy. Like there are hints of the relationship that will come to be especially the 1x2 part of it. And the rest of the series is very staunchly 1x2 with background 3x4, question mark with Wufei, which I'd really love to talk about later. But at least in the first part, it's kind of more of a, I don't know if action story is the right word... You know, it starts at some unspecified time in the canon. Heero and Duo are escaping a mission that is kind of going south. They land on earth, on a beach. Heero is badly injured, Duo is you know, kind of beat up but is still mostly functional. You know, he's not internally bleeding and concussed, which is what Heero is. So he's forced to drive them to safety, and eventually to a rendezvous point where the idea is that Quatre and the others will pick them up. But when they get there OZ is basically hot on their heels. So Duo is able to leave Heero, basically in secluded cover, but he has to redirect OZ's attention, which gets him into more trouble. And he almost essentially drowns. So exhausted, pummeled within an inch of his life, he limps his way back to a safe house, again, unspecified location, or why he knows that that thing is there, but whatever, where all the rest of the pilots are staying at. So that's Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei. Heero's already in the hospital, you know, Duo basically passes out. He's given immediate medical attention, including drugs that cause him to lash out and nearly kill everybody around him. But finally, Heero, near death himself, manages to sneak out of his hotel--hospital room to sit by Duo's side, which calms Duo down and the fic ends with them having this really cute exchange about Duo's IVs. So I did want to talk about the landscape of fanfic reading at this time, before we really dive deep into Road Trip itself. Do you guys have any memories, you know, or impressions of what it was like at the time when you first started reading Gundam Wing fanfic?

Caitlin 11:12

I remember that... I'm pretty sure I read this fic on a site that had either an all black background with white text; a sepia tinted background, that was like, you know, like a light, brownish, and then like a sort of off gray text. Because back in 2000, the only HTML any of us knew was how to change background color and how to change font color. You could put one image... They had gifs back then. And I don't, that's probably why my eyes are bad now. [laughter]

Kat 11:45

Yeah, it was either like very weirdly colored websites or really, really intensely over-styled websites, where it like, it's a little pop up and it's butterfly-shaped.

Mallory 11:58

Yeah. And there's like glitter and sparkles when you move your mouse and stuff. I didn't have fast like, I didn't get DSL until really late, like I was a senior in high school. So all of these websites just like crashed our internet constantly. [laughing] It was, it was hard for me to read those kinds of archives and stuff.

Caitlin 12:22

The point here is that these fics were hosted on like, a bunch of different sites. And it was just small, privately run, I guess you could say archives, like it's like it's one person who wants to save all the Gundam Wing fic in the world. Which is actually why we have Road Trip preserved on AO3, Archive of Our Own, which is that it's part of the Open Doors Project where a archivist by the name of Dacia used to run a site called A Little Piece of Gundam Wing, she was really into Duo. She read pretty much every Duo pairing if I recall correctly, like she was really into like all Duo pairings and she started collecting fic from various places where like, she-she wanted to curate like the best fic in her mind. So she would like ask authors, "Oh, can I host this on my site too?" after finding the fic other places and so she collected a bunch of, a bunch of fic. And as probably a lot of us know, Archive of Our Own, which is run by the Organization for Transformative Works, has a program called Open Doors where they will import archives that are closing, fanfiction archives that are closing, or that the maintainers just don't want to maintain anymore. So they maintain, they import them wholesale from the original archive and put them on Archive of Our Own.

Kat 13:49

It's pretty great because there are tons of fic from that time period that I wish I could remember or find or go back and to be able to like even search stuff on AO3 that was on those is great.

Cathy 14:02

So we've talked about this before, but that's where Gundam Wing Addiction is actually pretty funny because they did rescue some of these sites. You know, we talked about the Izumi Fountain District with Alexe Cinz stuff last time, but they also rescued, I want to say it's Lev or Levwolf or something like that?

Kat 14:23

Leviathan's Lair.

Cathy 14:25

The-the Leviathan's Lair. There we go.

Kat 14:26

Ooh, I remember this site. Wow--

Mallory 14:28

Yeah

Kat 14:28

Looking at this site is like getting slapped in the face.

Cathy 14:31

Yeah, I definitely read a lot of fic on A Little Piece of Gundam Wing, which I remember had a lot of text that was like accent text in orange [laughter]. And one of my favorite authors. well, they were an author pair, TB and Marsh, they were hosted on A Little Piece of Gundam Wing, that's where I first discovered them. But same thing with Sunhawk, who wrote two really famous series you know, Road Trip is the first one -- and in my memory, the more famous one although I think some people might say it's the Ion Arc, which I really don't remember anymore.

Kat 15:06

No, like reading Road Trip -- it's sort of like if I didn't read Road Trip, I read a bunch of fics like it, but the Ion Arc doesn't really ring a bell.

Cathy 15:15

Ok, yeah. So it was also the one that was easiest to talk about because the first part of Ion isn't really meaty enough, I think to talk about whereas Road Trip, the first installment is almost perfectly self-encompassing of a lot of stuff. In terms of dates, you know, I cannot find a definitive date of when Sunhawk first wrote and posted Road Trip, the first archive I could find that was still crawled by Web Archive, thank you Web Archive, was from November 2001 on Steelsong, who was another moderator of a large network of websites, a lot of which were Gundam Wing websites and specifically had their own Gundam Wing fanfic archive. By the time that Steelsong had put Sunhawk on their site, which was some time around November 2001, Sunhawk had already written much of Road Trip, she had already written the first six installments, which is a lot of fic. And at that time, at least in 2001, 2002, Sunhawk was writing Road Trip concurrently with Ion. My suspicion is that Sunhawk probably first wrote this on a mailing list, you know, the 1x2 mailing list was a really popular one at the time, and so maybe it was that she first started there and then later got into the archives. But this would mean that Sunhawk probably started writing Gundam Wing fic right after Gundam Wing's run on Toonami in 2000. So another thing I did want to point out is that we are really lucky now that Gundam Wing is available on streaming on Hulu, that there's all these wiki sites that we could basically find all the information we would want. It's possible that Sunhawk did not actually have a way to fact check anything that she was writing at the time. And so you know, one thing I did want to talk about with the fic was this indeterminate canon timeline issue, I don't know when in the series, this was supposed to happen. You know, Deathscythe is called Deathscythe. Much later in the series, Wufei's Gundam is referred to as Altron, which is his second Gundam. But we don't ever get this kidnapping phase that happens in the fic. So I don't know. But then again, I realized when I was Sunawk in 2001, how was she supposed to have checked that? Right?

Kat 17:29

I think also, nobody gave a shit back then. [laughs]

Mallory 17:32

Yeah. Like, it's also sort of like, did it really matter to your enjoyment? Like, you have all the elements of the Gundam Wing pilots and them interacting and the shipping, and like, it doesn't really matter what canon we're supposed to be in because we're already out of, outside of canon.

Kat 17:52

I feel like there were only like two timelines for fic and it was basically like pre-Endless Waltz and then post-Endless Waltz. I never really felt like, even though there's definitely a definitive plot split between, like, from all the episodes we've seen, and all the episodes we're about to see, I never really felt like fic did.

Caitlin 18:12

It's, it's sort of an interesting question in like Film Studies, where, you know, up until VHS, there was no way to really rewatch a movie that you were writing about. So a lot of film criticism and film theory was written by people who had only like, watched the movie once. So there's, it's kind of like a pathology we have nowadays that we can rewatch everything over and over again, so we can get this sort of like perfect timeline, this perfect like, sense of a film. Whereas in the past, like nobody ever watched anything like that. And there are, there are some film theorists nowadays who's still argue for that as like the true model of cinema, though obviously, that's much less prominent now. That, that gets into my whole idea of fanfic as a form of like interpretation, like fanfic is like a type of criticism of the original series.

Kat 19:01

Yeah, absolutely. And the thing that people wanted more of in Gundam Wing was gay shit and safe houses.

Mallory & Caitlin 19:08

Yeah.

Caitlin 19:09

And it's and it's easy to just like put that in. Like reading Road Trip, I wasn't thinking too much about like, where does this fit in the timeline because who cares?

Cathy 19:16

This is a first person POV fic, which in my mind now is pretty rare for big fanfics to be first person POV. But you, Mallory, had noted how much this voice sounded like the dub Duo voice.

Mallory 19:30

Yeah, she has gotten Duo's voice down. [laughs] I think it's just the slang that she kind of throws in there, the sort of casual way that Duo thinks and speaks feels very "of the show." Like I hear Scott McNeil's voice in my head [laughs] reading her fic is how good I think it is. Like there's like a cheesy earnestness in the dialogue of both the show and the fic that I think like works really well and is like really charming.

Caitlin 20:05

And I think that, so I think Duo's voice is very well established and it is at least, I only read the first two parts, but in the second part which is Heero's first person point of view, Duo's dialogue lines are also very strongly Scott McNeil-esque, I felt. I think Heero's voice is a little bit less distinct. One of my struggles with these fics was like, does this read as Heero to me? Like I really wasn't sure. And I'll say with regards to the first person point of view, maybe this gets us on to a different topic, but there are so many things about this fic where if I opened a fic like this now in 2020, I would hit I would hit the back button so hard.

Cathy 20:48

No, I want to talk about this, this is a great topic. I love this.

Caitlin 20:51

So I would never read something with this much violence. I'd always be like, what I don't want to read that, I don't want to read Duo getting beaten up or tortured, or whatever.

Mallory & Kat 21:00

Oh! [laughter]

Caitlin 21:02

I know! I like, I don't, I don't read that sort of fic these days. Like I don't read whump, the ancient genre of whump. [laughs]

Kat 21:10

Oh, whump I guess is like a ancient genre but an everlasting genre to me.

Caitlin 21:15

Yes.

Kat 21:15

Cathy, when you were trying to classify this fic, I was thinking, "this is definitely whump, pre-slash."

Mallory & Caitlin & Cathy 21:21

Yes, yes. Yes.

Mallory 21:22

At least part one is pre-slash.

Kat 21:24

Yeah

Caitlin 21:25

And I would never read something like that these days... Like if it was, it was tagged pre-slash, rated M, and I be like, "but how can it be rated M if they don't have sex?" I'd be like, "no, there's got to be some other reason for this to be rated M, I can't handle it. I need to go back." Like I would hit the back button so hard. And I'd be wrong because this fic is really good.

Kat 21:47

It definitely feels from, from an older time~

Cathy 21:50

Yes, I agree. And I second everything Caitlin said. This fic was surprisingly readable and I know that sounds like a backhanded compliment but what I mean is, I didn't expect it to still sound as good and like something I would see someone write now, but it is. It's still really good, you know the voices are really good, the dialogue are really, is really good. But everything about it screams back button. Like I hated Quatre and Trowa even in this fic. [laughing]

Caitlin 22:19

Oh my god, oh my god [laughter]

Cathy 22:20

[laughter] Even though they do nothing, I hated them. Outside of Gundam Wing I did not ever read whump or hurt/comfort fic, you know, this was just not a genre that I was ever interested in. In Gundam Wing it was almost unavoidable?

Kat 22:33

I was gonna say there's no way [crosstalk]

Cathy 22:34

because of the plot [crosstalk] So you kind of had to--

Kat

especially if you like Duo--

Cathy

Especially if you liked Duo! And then of course all of the little fandom tropes that kill me now about the fic might actually have not yet been as deeply entrenched in fanon at the time she was writing as they are now but--

Caitlin 22:51

True

Cathy 22:51

Certainly now when I read it, I'm like, well, there's the safe house.

Mallory 22:55

Yeah, it's like a checklist almost. Like oh, there's that mention of Duo's hair smelling like sandalwood,

Cathy 23:02

Yes!

Caitlin 23:02

Why sandalwood?

Mallory 23:03

It was always sandalwood and it was always Duo. Duo's hair always smelled like sandalwood..

Kat 23:08

I mean it might be this fic though, like this is The the fic, the landscape of fic reading and stuff, there was just less of it and like the people who are into it are like really spending time to find it and stuff. We're talking about different archives, I read like everything on 1x2x1--

Mallory 23:10

Mmhmm

Kat 23:10

Uh wing-- Shinigami and Wing like and so I think it was like, fanon still coalesces pretty fast now but I think because there's less access to source material too it's like so much easier for it to grow like this, just sort of permeate the entire fandom, not just one pairing.

Mallory 23:48

Yeah, I mean like Kat you were saying earlier you may not have read this particular fic but you have definitely read 10 or 15 other ones that are very similar to it in terms of what you can expect from the action and the characters and the pairings.

Kat 24:04

Duo is gonna get hurt. Heero is gonna be angry over something that he doesn't need to be angry about. Trowa is gonna to be a calm head, Quatre's the kind heart. Wufei I like in this because he's like the friend, the bro, instead of the standoffish fifth guy.

Mallory 24:19

Yeah,

Kat 24:19

so that's nice--

Caitlin 24:20

Yeah. Wufei good in this but he has a better like,

Kat 24:25

Rapport?

Caitlin 24:25

He has more rapport with Duo than Heero does [laughter]

Mallory 24:28

Yes. I was going to say--

Caitlin 24:31

I'm sure we were all in on this but I was side shipping Duo and Wufei a lot. Wufei gave him a bath!

Mallory & Kat 24:38

Wufei gets him!

Cathy 24:40

Do you guys, can I spoil something about the rest of the Road Trip arc?

Caitlin 24:43

Yes!

Mallory & Kat 24:44

Yeah.

Cathy 24:45

So I okay. And I will first give readers this warning, if you do want to read the rest of the installments of Road Trip, there are warnings on AO3 but I must add that there is a significant part of Duo's backstory that deals with rape and trauma and especially rape of Duo when he was very under age so--

Caitlin 25:10

This also something that would be auto back button for me.

Cathy 25:13

Yeah so I have to I have to put in that disclaimer because I don't want people wandering into the rest of the story. Road Trip the first installment is fine but the rest of the story this is, this is a big part of his character so please don't read it if it is triggering. But one thing about Wufei is you find out later he actually has a BIG honkin' crush on Duo and he is almost always--

Mallory 25:36

I must have read this.

Caitlin 25:37

Nooooo!

Cathy 25:37

He is almost always there basically like helping like pick Duo up and like--

Caitlin 25:43

no [crosstalk] this is too sad!

Cathy 25:43

Supplements this like emotional stuff that like Heero doesn't get because Heero has a bad problem

Caitlin 25:49

[agonized] Noooo--

Cathy 25:49

in Road Trip of like treating Duo as like too fragile which pisses Duo off

Kat

That was a common dynamic.

Cathy

He comes to this like realization that he's like really in love with Duo but then he has to shelve it because he realizes that Duo and Heero are soulmates? And so he like, he says he'll be a friend forever and he gives like do this plush dragon. And then the whole thing is it's set up to be eventually a Wufei and Sally Po story? But the very last installment -- that is part 16 of the 16 part series -- is essentially a story where Duo has an anxiety freak out while Heero's away. He calls Wufei over to his apartment, they spend a night together completely platonically. Duo realizes that Wufei is like eaten up inside by something that Wufei won't tell Duo about. And it's like this crush, which all of us know because we all read the part with the Wufei point of view, but like Duo didn't get the memo.

Mallory

Oh my god?

Kat

I picked up on this and I only read one chapter.

Caitlin

I can't handle this.

Cathy

So he's not sure what's happening. And that at the very end, you know, Wu Fei is like basically telling Duo that he doesn't want to start dating Sally Po because he's afraid of like, basically something that like, and he phrases it in a way that makes Duo think he's talking about his former dead wife, but it's actually about Duo. [crosstalk: No!] And Duo says to him, you have to let the past go. And so then Wufei does and call Sally up for a date.

Kat

Okay, that plush dragon thing just lit up eight synapses.

Caitlin

I hate this.

Kat

I have read this fic, 100%.

Caitlin 25:57

It's possible that this is why I got into 2x5.

Cathy 27:32

So I just had to add this here because like, I truly felt the same way. Like I shipped Wufei and Duo was so hard and the more Heero like became this like, super protective like... I like this story, but I don't buy it as Heero characterization. Like I don't think Heero was very convincing. But I do find Duo and Wufei very convincing in the series. [laughs]

Caitlin 27:51

Yeaaah.

Kat 27:51

I think this is a big problem with a lot of Heero fanon characterization at the time, though, because like the logical conclusion of the fanon characterization of Heero is just a huge asshole nobody wants to date. [laughs] When the Toonami series aired, it was like a ton of 1x2. That was it. It was like 1x2, 3x4 blah, blah but I think as fanon crystallized like pairing diversity also increased.

Caitlin 28:17

Yeah, the thing is that I'm fine reading fanfic between assholes that nobody would want to date. That is, tends to be the type of fanfic that I read anyway.

Kat 28:27

Look, I get that.

Caitlin 28:27

So Heero being terrible is fine. The problem is that this fic characterizes him as less terrible than he seems to actually be?

Mallory 28:36

Mmm.

Caitlin 28:36

Like, I don't think Heero is this, I don't think he's this protective. I don't think he's this in tune with his feelings. Part Two, really, like, as some of you might know, I never read established relationship fic, so I wasn't going to continue past Part Two anyway. Even though they have a lot of problems, I'm just like, all right, they already confessed their feelings. I'm not interested anymore. But I just found it really hard to believe that Heero would be able to confess his feelings or even like, recognize love, emotions, or romance that early on.

Kat 29:10

It's the combined problem of he's an asshole who no one would want a date and the fic is still trying to convince me that him and Duo are like really great together in general. So I wrote a lot of Gundam Wing fic in middle school, so I consumed so much of it on [laughing] fanfiction.net and the characterization ended up getting really, really far removed even further removed than this fic from the actual show, I guess.

Cathy 29:35

So one thing I did want to point out, it's less obvious in Part One, but becomes increasingly obvious as you move through this arc is the total lack or mention of Relena Peacecraft. And, and I mean it, she is not mentioned once in this entire fic, which is odd because it goes from middle of the canon through until the post-Endless Waltz and then [laughter] seven to eight years, and seven to eight years after--

Mallory 30:05

Wow

Cathy 30:05

the end of Endless Waltz, which, and again at by the end of this fic series, spoilers, Duo, Wufei, and Heero all work for the Preventers. So it seems very [laughter] weird that none of them would interact with Relena. So like I did--

Caitlin 30:14

It seems like they would run into Relena sometime [laughter].

Cathy 30:21

I did want to open the floor to talk about Relena Peacecraft and her place in Gundam Wing fanfic.

Kat 30:29

Well, so either you're a het shipper so you're, you're, you're doing fine, your Heero is probably very different. [laughter]

Caitlin 30:41

Wait, let's let's be clear that there were a lot of het shippers

Kat 30:44

Yes.

Caitlin 30:44

And they still are there. There was a lot of het shipping in the Japanese fandom too. I think Heero and Relena were popular.

Kat 30:51

Duo and Hilde.

Caitlin 30:53

And the official media that came out was like, oh Duo and Hilde. And, oh Heero and Relena.

Cathy 30:58

Yeah.

Kat 30:59

Relena and fanfiction so you're a het -- you could be a het shipper, so then she's in it a lot.

Mallory

Or you hate her and she's a monster and she's the the thing standing between Heero and Duo falling in love or being together, which I feel like I read a lot of.

Kat 31:15

She could be shipping them but that was way more rare I thought and then like just not having her around.

Caitlin 31:22

So like, from the perspective of the contemporary moment, it looks bad to just not write Relena at all in your 300,000 word fic about characters who talk to Relena all the time. Like it seems bad

Kat 31:38

But!

Caitlin 31:39

but she was so controversial that I could see like I can see the logic of just not including her.

Kat 31:45

And as a reader I, I often preferred that she just kind of not be there be like very peripheral over... like I think at the beginning I really enjoyed the like Relena hating because there's just very viscerally satisfying, but later on, I was like, hmmm.

Caitlin 32:01

The other option is like, write a explainer about why your Heero in your fic doesn't love Relena, he only loves Duo. It just becomes, like, tedious to write that every single fic.

Cathy 32:15

One thing that I was digging up was a lot of Relena hate sites. And one thing we had talked about in past episodes was kind of like hating her because she was this rich girl, she had this entourage, we couldn't really relate to her. And there was a lot of that in why people expressed why they hated Relena. Like she was spoiled. She had everything. She was obsessed with Heero and so she definitely like wanted him as one of her belongings kind of thing? So I think it is one of those moments where now that I've read a lot more other types of Gundam Wing fanfic that I wasn't reading at that time that have, I think, much more interesting Relena characterization, and much more I think realistic ideas about what Heero and Relena's relationship would be like. I think, "God I was so stupid!" but I feel that same way about like everything I was into, right? [laughs] So like, it is kind of humbling and also funny.

Mallory 33:14

Like reading this fic it's about as comforting as like finding your favorite High School sweater, you know, in the back of your closet when you're visiting home and putting it on and finding out it still fits. And it's because it sort of hits all of those familiar tropes that I remember reading, like the use of "Gods" is like--

Kat 33:32

Yes!

Mallory 33:33

punch in the face.

Caitlin 33:34

Why does everyone say gods?

Mallory 33:36

Yes.

Cathy

Everybody!

Mallory 33:37

Okay, and I don't remember, like I remember this being a thing in Gundam Wing fic I don't remember why--

Caitlin 33:43

[crosstalk] Duo was American and was raised in a—

Cathay

[laughing] Catholic!

Caitlin

Catholic. Why would he say Gods?

Kat 33:48

[crosstalk] Yeah Duo would never.

Cathy 33:49

I kind of get maybe the idea of why others would do it if this became like a post colony thing but certainly not Duo.

Kat 33:57

In like middle school. I was always wondering like, "oh, what kind of weird event happened in the future that made everybody until like a polytheist?" [laughter] Like, what kind of world building is this?

Mallory 34:07

Yeah, I thought that there had to be like a reason or is there a rule?

Caitlin 34:12

I kind of thought that just like the people writing fanfic at the time tended to be like pagans. Like, like, that was fine. And they and they were pushing their pagan agenda by having everybody say gods.

Cathy 34:22

No, I, I, 100. That's 100% my theory.

Caitlin 34:25

that's what I think it is.

Cathy 34:26

So I mean, Sunhawk was one of the older writers at the time, but I think a lot of the people who were archivists and writers at the time were older, she was probably at least I want to say in her 30s. They're usually older, some of them are Wiccan or pagan and a lot of them were very interested in like education and sort of like bringing up the younger members of the fandom. So Sunhawk specifically, like had a personality who was like very educational? I'm not saying that that's why she did particularly this "Gods" thing, but I do think that that was like part of the general dismantling of monotheistic--

Mallory 35:01

Christian god.

Cathy 35:02

Yeah. So the last thing I want to talk about in terms of this fanfic is all the five pilots working together, coordinating pickup and rescue missions.

Mallory 35:11

Rendezvous points? How are they in contact with each other?

Cathy 35:15

And they all appear to have like similar missions? Like, it seems like Heero and Duo were on this mission together instead of what we see in the show, which is that they don't...? Again, I think I just love this idealistic view of the Gundam pilots where they're all not just friends, but also comrades in arms.

Caitlin 35:33

Yeah, I mean, this makes more sense than what the show does, which is that on the show, it's always, oh, they just happen to run into each other on the same mission. And they're like, oh, who are you? Why do you have the same Gundam as me? [laughter]

Mallory 35:47

We shouldn't be fighting.

Caitlin 35:48

But Quatre's the only one who says that everybody else is like, let's blow each other up.

Cathy 35:53

We joke a lot about how this podcast is basically us questioning the internal logic of Gundam Wing, like why would anybody do this thing where they just sent five teenagers without any knowledge that there are four other of them and just be like, here you go.

Mallory 36:07

Complete a vague unspecified mission.

Kat 36:10

I feel like fanfiction really made them way more competent. Like there's literally that whole scene where the doctors are like, "You guys fucking suck. You're not the perfect soldiers at all." [laughter]

Mallory 36:21

"You don't know anything."

Kat 36:22

And then in fics it's like Heero's like, "I'm the perfect soldier. I know everything!

Mallory 36:28

"I must be the perfect soldier."

Caitlin 36:30

Oh, yeah. Like they all seem to be much better fighters than they are in canon.

Kat 36:36

Yeah

Caitlin 36:36

I feel like in canon Wufei is the only one who does his job. And in fanfic, it seemed like they were all doing jobs.

Kat 36:43

Trowa's maybe just doing his own thing.

Mallory 36:46

But he's doing A Job.

Caitlin 36:47

Yeah, clowning. Trowa's job is clowning!

Kat 36:50

Everybody got way more trauma than Quatre did in fic even though the show is like here's Quatre's biggest trauma.

Mallory 36:58

You know, that's very true.

Kat 36:59

Which didn't even show up in the clip show.

Caitlin 37:02

Yeah, it also doesn't really make sense that Quatre's always this really sane one in fanfic when he's the main one we've seen in canon go apeshit.

Kat 37:12

Reading this fic and then watching the clip show, I was like, damn, like Wufei/Treize/Zechs was like it's, a whole ass universe. And it's just like, one scene in the first 27 episodes. [laughter] But what a scene.

Mallory 37:27

Such a good one.

Caitlin 37:29

I think that it's important to note that Sunhawk passed away last year, and so we could consider this episode our very weird tribute to her.

Cathy 37:37

Yes, in 2019 in March, there was a post on Sunhawk's LiveJournal, by her daughter, who had become in Sunhawk's words, essentially somewhat of a fandom secretary for Sunhawk, noting that if you are reading this entry, now, it means that she had passed away, she had been diagnosed with cancer, like in 2015, she said four and a half years ago from the time of the writing of the entry. So Sunhawk, beginning in 2007, did a tradition where every year for the 12 days leading up to Christmas, she would post the ficlet, or fanart inspired by her fics, usually 1x2 related usually an excerpt from or like a special scene or bonus scene from one of her stories about Duo and Heero. And she continued that tradition even up until 2019.

Kat 38:25

Oh wow

Cathy 38:25

So prior to that she had actually queued up 12 Days of Christmas for 2019, which her daughter posted. And the very last story actually was a coda for the Ion arc, which was left unfinished and her daughter finished it for her. And if you had the chance, and of course, we'll link to this, I really highly recommend you read the goodbye post from Sunhawk.

Caitlin 38:49

It's, wait, it's really good. Can I read just a little bit of this?

Cathy 38:51

Yes, please.

Caitlin 38:52

Before I shuffle on off, though, I would be remiss if I didn't address the fandom that I have called home for almost two decades. To everyone, thank you, I realized that we aren't as large as we used to be that the heyday is over. But I've enjoyed being here and writing for you all. And there is one thing that I've learned through all of my years, and all of my time with the fandom that I want to share that I think applies not just to our little corner of the internet, but all fandom. Write it, draw it, sing it, create it, share it. We all start somewhere. We all start with works that are horribly out of character. We write tropes that have been written up million times before. We all stare at blank canvases unable to get the lines down in a way that we want. And we all scrap ideas that we feel just aren't good enough. But a fandom lives because of the people who produce for it. And by those who come to read and view. Yes, maybe that 500 word drabble in which two strapping young men are trapped in a remote cabin during some horrible weather event and there is only one bed, isn't your best work. But what about the work after that, or the one that follows? With each creation you learn, you polish yourself, you grow. Never stop yourself from growing. Never let others stop you from growing. Share the stories you have in you. Post your heart -- Post your art, because at the end of the day life is too damn short to spend not doing something you love to do. To all of the Gundam Wing fandom and all of my friends, I want to again say thank you, reading my work supporting me talking with me, you've made my stay here a pleasant one.

Cathy 40:21

I find it really heartwarming. And one thing that I did for this episode is I went back and I read some of Sunhawk's first LiveJournal posts in 2002, when she started her LiveJournal, and even in the comments to people who were, I don't think close friends of hers, you know, just fans, she was always extremely, you know, encouraging and welcoming, and always told her fans that they should just write, you know, even if they felt like whatever they did wasn't perfect or wasn't in their words going to match up to what she did. She always told them just write it. Coming to Sunhawk and realizing that she'd spent two decades in a fandom that I think a lot of us considered dead and she was still cranking out work there and like encouraging people and being loving in that fandom, it just is it's like everything that one hopes one span that experience will be like and how they'll be remembered when they leave. Well, I want to thank you guys for joining me on this episode where we talk about, you know, Sunhawk and fanfic and being really young and on the internet with dial up. I really, you know, appreciate all of your memories, which are also my memories. And together, we'll keep Sunhawk's spirit alive. Write it, draw it, sing it, create it and share it. Thank you very much and see you in two weeks.

#gundam wing #mobile suit gundam #mobile suit gundam wing #Anime Podcast #anime nostalgia #90s anime #episode 14 #transcripts #untitled tallgeese podcast

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january3693 · 5 years ago

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So, I wrote a thing about Remus and Sirius fighting with Dumbledore over custody of Harry post POA. I got just a few lines of dialogue and like a snippet of a scene stuck in my head, demanding that I write it out. It doesn’t feel like a complete thing, like a real one shot or something, so I’m not going to post it to AO3 right now. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here, but I wanted to make it an AU where Sirius is now free (because that’s my favorite canon divergence) and has worked things out with Remus and has already absconded with Harry. Also, Lyall Lupin is here, because I head canon him as being both alive and being a cranky badass, and I love him (also Remus, Sirius, and Harry are staying with Lyall because we all know Remus’s cottage isn’t fit for reasonable human habitation, and fuck Grimmauld Place). Again, I don’t know what I’m doing with this, maybe it belongs to a longer fic, but if so I probably won’t be writing that fic for a while yet. Until then, it’s just a random little scene I felt the desire to write.

(It’s long, so I put it below a Keep Reading line)

They Apparated from the Burrow back to Wales rather than take the Floo. It was supposed to be a quick stop only, just to grab a few things before spending the next two nights back at Remus’s cottage. Remus had suggested it, feeling that without the mitigating influence of Harry in the house the tensions between Lyall and Sirius might blossom into open warfare. Better for them all that they all give each other a little space.

Then Lyall met them at the door, a grim scowl on his face and a large mug of coffee in hand. “You have a visitor in the kitchen,” he said tightly.

“Ah, I thought we might sometime soon,” Remus replied with a sigh.

“Bollocks,” Sirius added unhelpfully.

At least Dumbledore had waited until Harry was off to the World Cup with the Weasleys. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation for anyone involved, Remus imagined.

He could feel the storm already gathering strength as he and Sirius followed Lyall back through the house to the kitchen. Sirius had been doing so well controlling his temper, but that had been for Harry’s sake, Remus knew. They had both held their tongues over the past week every time Harry let some new, horrifying kernel of information slip out about his life with the Dursleys.

Harry wasn’t here though, and Remus had been anticipating an explosion of Sirius’s fury and horror once they were safely back at his cottage. Hell, Remus had planned to add his own rage to the mix. They weren’t going to get their chance to scream their frustrations into the void though. At least, not before they were forced to have a long conversation with Albus Dumbledore. A conversation that might very easily devolve into shouting.

Remus winced; pitting Sirius against Dumbledore was very nearly the definition of an unstoppable force meeting and immovable object.

Dumbledore sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup that had not come from the cabinet above Lyall’s sink. Knowing his father, Lyall probably hadn’t offered Dumbledore any sort of refreshment. Honestly, Remus was surprised his father had let the headmaster into the house in the first place.

Looking up at them, Dumbledore smiled. It seemed so warm, so genuine, that Remus almost believed this might not be the fight he’d expected. Maybe Dumbledore just had a few reasonable concerns that they could smooth over and come to an easy, agreed upon solution to Harry’s custody situation.

Then he remembered all the letters he’d sent, the pleas to be allowed to visit Harry, or send him letters, or even get updates on how he was doing. Dumbledore had answered so politely and sympathetically, always cloaking his very firm no in kindness.

“Good afternoon, Remus, Sirius,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “Would you like a biscuit?” He gestured to a tin of iced lemon biscuits that he’d clearly brought with him. Remus’s sweet tooth had come straight from his mother; Lyall had no taste for chocolate or other sweets and rarely kept them in the house.

“No,” Sirius said sharply.

“No thank you,” Remus added a little more politely.

Dumbledore’s smile never faltered. “Ah, well, we have some very important things to discuss then, namely regarding Harry.” He gestured to the chairs opposite him. Lyall harrumphed around a sip of his coffee. Sirius and Remus both sat though, perhaps some inborn obedience lingered after all these years.

To Remus’s surprise, his father refilled his coffee mug and settled back against the counter, ready to watch the show.

“Dad, could you give us a few minutes?” Remus asked.

Lyall crossed his arms over his chest, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “You can talk as long as you’d like, but this is my house and I won’t be thrown out of my own bloody kitchen for anyone or anything.”

“That’s quite all right, Remus,” Dumbledore said politely. “As the only parent present, I’m sure your father has valuable insight into the rigors and complications of raising a child.”

“You want my insight?” Lyall asked, nostrils flaring. “Ignoring the rest of this clusterfuck, you should have given the boy to Remus thirteen years ago.”

That caught them all by surprise. Remus let out a long breath and couldn’t seem to draw in a new one. It was a thought he’d had himself over the years. For the most part, he’d been able to silence it by telling himself that Harry was better off with the Dursleys. That they would be able to provide for him, care for him better than Remus ever would have been able to—poor, jobless, grieving mess that he had been after the war. Then he’d met the teenaged Harry and had slowly learned how much of a lie that had been. A lie he’d told himself, but one that Dumbledore had corroborated in his own gentle way.

Even Lyall, who had once cautioned Remus about how difficult it would be for him to ever have or raise children, believed Harry would have been better off with Remus than the Dursleys.

“He’s damned right,” Sirius snapped. He turned to give Lyall a solemn nod. They might not get along, but on this front the two of them were in complete agreement. “Lily was estranged from her sister for good reasons. If I wasn’t able to take Harry in, James and Lily would have wanted him to go to Remus, and you know it, Albus.”

“Dad, Sirius…” Remus began with a sigh.

“They could have come here,” Lyall said before Remus could get another self-defeating word out. “I’d have taken them both in in an instant. We might not have had a lot, but I was always able to keep a roof over my family’s head and food on the table. Harry would have been cared for…loved.”

“But he would not have been safe,” Dumbledore interjected.

“And what precisely is that supposed to mean?” Lyall growled.

Dumbledore sighed. “I meant no slights against either Remus or yourself, Lyall,” the headmaster assured them. “Rather, I was speaking about protections provided by your house.”

Lyall’s hackles rose almost as much at the insult to his home as they had over the affront to his person. Before he could curse or yell at the headmaster though, Remus jumped back into the conversation.

“This isn’t a permanent situation,” Remus insisted. “My cottage is too small for three people, but we’re making other arrangements.”

“I was planning to have a new house built on my uncle’s property,” Sirius added. “It’s secluded and the land is already well protected. We can add as many spells and charms to the house as you see fit, Albus, but we can’t send Harry back to live with those…those…toerags!”

Remus had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Sirius dragged out Lily’s favorite childhood insult to keep from swearing. There was nothing funny about the sadly immovable expression on Dumbledore’s face. It radiated understanding and empathy, but insisted their arguments had not changed his mind.

“Harry is protected by powerful magic while he lives with his aunt and uncle,” Dumbledore said patiently. “Protections I’m afraid neither of you will be able to replicate. Lily sacrificed herself to save Harry’s life, and that sacrifice created a lingering protection in Harry’s very blood. It’s why Voldemort cannot bear to touch him without pain. It also enabled me to cast a powerful charm that was sealed when Petunia Dursley accepted her nephew into her home.”

“A bond of blood charm,” Lyall raised a questioning eyebrow at Dumbledore. “That’s the charm you’re referring to, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Dumbledore said with a nod. “You’re familiar with it?”

Lyall snorted. “I married a Muggle woman and raised a son with lycanthropy during a time when a maniac and his followers would have happily killed the lot of us for either of those things. I’m very familiar with protection spells.” Remus resisted the urge to flinch at the reminder that his condition had put his parents at risk for years. His father didn’t sound bitter about it though. He actually seemed rather proud.

“That’s how I know you’re feeding these two a cartload of erumpent shite,” Lyall added.

Dumbledore blinked surprised blue eyes at Lyall’s proclamation.

“There’s no such thing as a perfect protection charm,” Lyall continued. “If there was everyone would use it, and we’d all have nothing to worry about. Bonds of blood can be powerful protection, especially since the circumstances required to create them are rare and not easily replicated.” Lyall explained. “They’ve got one hell of a weak spot though. The protections are only as powerful as the bonds between the living, not the blood of the sacrifice. I can think of half a dozen ways to undo one, especially if the boy’s relatives are half the wankstains my son and Black here claim they are.”

“They’re worse,” Sirius muttered, though no one paid him any mind.

Dumbledore frowned. He might have been prepared for Remus and Sirius and all their emotional arguments, but he obviously hadn’t counted on Lyall. “Petunia Dursley knowingly activated the charm when she took Harry into her home and care. She accepted the bond.”

Sirius looked ready to snap at the word care, but Remus squeezed his shoulder to stop him. Their anger wouldn’t win this fight, but if his father knew something that might…

Lyall glowered at Dumbledore as if the man had personally challenged him. “The boy’s aunt might have taken him in and activated the charm, but either one of them can break it easily. Bonds of blood are finicky magic, full of loopholes, technicalities, and with plenty of ways for a person to break the charm completely by accident.” He set his mug down so he could tick points off on his fingers. “One wrong word spoken during an argument could undo the whole thing. If this aunt ever told Harry to ‘get out’ in the wrong tone, or if Harry ever claimed his aunt’s house wasn’t his home—Poof! There goes your fancy charm. And how far would you say these Dursleys would go to protect the boy? From what Harry himself said they don’t seem to like him much, let alone love him.”

Dumbledore sighed. “Reluctant or not, she still took him in and—”

“And what would she do if someone were to threaten her own son? If some shady bastard came up to her on the street—away from that protected house—and said ‘we’ll kill your own boy if you don’t give us the other one,’ or if they offered her money—a fortune in exchange for an unwanted, unloved nephew? That’s the flaw of blood bond charms, almost similar to the Fidelius that caused you lot so much grief. The bond relies on trust, on love. Without that it’s fragile as a thread.”

“The Dursleys wouldn’t suffer a hangnail to protect Harry, and you know it,” Sirius snarled at Dumbledore.

“Are you even sure the charm’s still active?” Remus asked. “Your protections saved Harry his first year, we’re not denying that, but a lot has happened between Harry and the Dursleys since then, none of it good.”

“Most of it abusive,” Sirius added under his breath.

The headmaster hesitated. He looked caught between frustration, guilt, and exasperation. Remus felt a stab of fury. His father had poked these holes in Dumbledore’s plan in less than five minutes, Dumbledore himself had to have considered these things over the last decade.

“I understand that it might have been the best option at the time given…everything else that happened,” Remus said diplomatically. He didn’t want to be the damn peacekeeper here, but it obviously wasn’t going to be Sirius or even his father. If pushed they were both likely to snap and shove right back. “However, things have changed, Albus. Sirius and I want Harry. We’d both die to protect him. That has to be worth something.”

“Especially when you consider Harry doesn’t want to live with the Dursleys. He’d known me for all of an hour—half of which he spent thinking I’d helped kill his parents—and he asked if he could move in with me. What sort of life must he have had that moving in with an escaped felon he barely knew sounded like a step up? What did they—”

Sirius’s diatribe choked off in the middle of his sentence. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep shaky breath. Remus opened his mouth to take up where his partner had left off, to argue, to fight, to rage even, but the words caught in his throat as Sirius’s hand settled atop his tightly balled fist. When Sirius’s eyes opened again they fixed on the table before him, but Remus could tell he wasn’t actually seeing it.

When Sirius spoke the anger was gone from his voice, replaced by something soft and frighteningly brittle. “My family’s house was very well protected. There were truly ancient runes inscribed in the foundations, and generations of Blacks had layered spells and charms into every brick and stone and floorboard—my father was practically obsessed with it toward the end of his life. It was unplottable, invisible to Muggles, had anti-apparition and concealment charms, anything you could think of. I was as safe growing up there as a child could ever be…” Sirius pulled his gaze away from the table and his grey eyes locked with Dumbledore’s blue. “…From everything outside of those walls.”

Remus’s fist unclenched beneath Sirius’s hand, and he turned his palm up to clasp his partner’s fingers. Sirius gripped them tight in return. To that day, Remus was certain he still didn’t know the entirety of what had happened to Sirius within Grimmauld Place. He’d gleaned pieces of the puzzle over the years, some from Sirius himself, others from his own observations and suppositions. It was more than enough to know the terrible shape of what Sirius had suffered for sixteen years, if not all of the details.

“I made mistakes before,” Sirius continued. “Believe me, I know every facet of them intimately. I can’t undo them, but I would give my life to keep Harry safe. I would kill to protect him. So would Remus. I will do anything to protect him…anything except stand by and allow the very people who are supposed to care for him, to love him, hurt him in any way.”

His voice was still quiet, but there was a vicious passion beneath the words that spoke worlds. He had already spent twelve years in hell, but Remus didn’t doubt for one second that Sirius would storm straight back into Azkaban or Tartarus itself if it would spare Harry even a minute of suffering.

Remus squeezed the hand holding his. If it came to that, Sirius would not be going alone this time.

Sirius didn’t say another word, but his eyes stayed locked with Dumbledore’s, and—for the first time Remus could ever recall—it was Dumbledore who blinked first. It made him wonder how many pieces of the puzzle the headmaster had put together himself over the years, both about Sirius’s childhood and Harry’s own.

It wasn’t a surrender though. Remus could read as much in the way Dumbledore sighed and steepled his hands in front of him.

Lyall cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “You’re all forgetting something,” he said quietly. His eyes darted to Sirius for a moment, wary, but with a new level of respect. “It’s Harry’s life you’re debating, he’s fourteen years old, more than old enough to understand the risks and have a say in this decision.”

#harry potter au #harry potter fanfic #semi-finished #maybe #I don't really know #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #albus dumbledore #lyall lupin #canon divergence #sirius is free #sirius and remus take harry away from the dursleys #tw: mentions of child abuse

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im-fairly-whitty · 5 years ago

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Ablaze: A Frozen Alternate History AU

Fifteen years ago Elsa disappeared up the mountain when she lost control of her ice powers at her coronation and was never seen again, leaving Queen Anna and her husband the Prince Regent Hans to rule Arendelle as it descended into a cursed eternal winter. A year later Arendelle’s new prince was born, a boy cursed with the power of fire instead of ice. Now fourteen-year-old Prince Taavi has begun to hear a voice singing to him far in the distance that no one else can hear, beckoning him toward the secrets of his family’s past and the secrets of his own magic.

[Chapter 1 - Water]

Chapter 2 - Ice

As much as Taavi complained about being trapped in the castle he was no stranger to the outside world. Even when he’d had trouble controlling his fire, his parents had always insisted it was more important for him to go out and learn to secretly control it than to live behind a locked door.

This had led to more close calls than Taavi could remember, but it meant he’d traveled across Arendelle his whole childhood to see the towns and meet the people he would one day be responsible for, even visiting his many uncles down in the Southern Isles once or twice. Taavi had seen snowy countryside and secluded woods, icy villages and bustling cities.

But none of his past journeys could have prepared him for this, to be clinging to to back of a nøkk in the dead of night, desperately struggling not to slip as it carried him at a breathless speed along the only running river in Arendelle, straight up the forbidden mountain that had always loomed high over his own home.

He’d been in forests before, but somehow the dark frost-blasted pines and skeletal dead birches that reached their branches across the river above felt as if they were watching him. Taavi couldn’t know exactly why, but something deep inside could tell something was wrong with this forest, and it wasn’t just the tales he’d grown up hearing of all the dark magic that roamed these woods looking for victims foolish enough to cross into the shadows.

“Vand, hold on,” Taavi called, his fingers aching from his death grip on the water horse’s mane. “I’m going to fall off, slow down.”

Vand slowed, pranced to a stop. His hooves glancing off the liquid surface of the river as he looked back at Taavi quizzically.

“Sorry, I just need a break, I’m not used to going this fast.” Taavi said, swinging his leg over Vand’s back to dismount. “Just let me walk a minute.”

He didn’t remember until an instant too late that Vand was standing on the surface of a snowmelt river. The cold of the water felt like a physical blow as Taavi fell under the surface, submerged in a blindingly frigid instant. His entire body locked up, the heat inside him snuffing out in shock.

Something clamped around his wrist and Taavi felt himself yanked up. He gasped as his head burst to the surface, the cold of the air made worse by the cold of the water. He looked up to see Vand had caught hold of his wrist, the water horse dragging him to the snowy riverbank in a few watery strides.

Had Taavi ever been this cold in his life? He numbly searched for the flame inside him, finding only a small ember. It had never felt this small. Is this how normal people felt?

Taavi coughed as he struggled to move, his muscles stiff and useless feeling after only seconds under the water.

“Call your fire.” Vand commanded, now crouching beside him in human form. “You’re going to freeze if you don’t.”

“Y-y-you said y-you’d stay in sh-shallow w-water.” Taavi said through chattering teeth, trying to focus hard enough to summon any warmth he could, chasing the barest flicker of heat in his chest as he shivered violently.

“Well next time don’t throw yourself off when we’re still in the middle of the river. Humans drown so easily, you should know better.” Vand said, sounding altogether too casual considering the situation.

Vand looked up and around them, then pointed through the trees. “It’s just as well we stopped though. This as far as I can take you by river, it gets too steep further up and I won’t be able to carry you. Beyond those trees you’ll see a path. Walk it and it will lead you to the palace of ice, when you reach the front gate go left until you see a pool of water and I’ll see you there.”

“A-a what?” Taavi chattered, rubbing his arms. He was sure if he took off his wet gloves his skin would be turning blue, but Vand didn’t seem to be very concerned.

“A pool of water.”

“No, th-the ice palace.”

“Yes, you’ll know it when you see it I imagine.” Vand said. “Whatever you do don’t knock on the door, I have to be the one to bring you in the back way. And be sure not to-”

“Hey! You get away from him!”

Taavi jumped as a booming voice cut through the night air. Vand disappeared in front of him, vanishing back into the water in an instant. Taavi turned toward the rough sound of snow crunching underfoot and saw a dark hulking figure looming toward him. Some half delusional, too-cold-to-think-straight part of him nearly threw himself into the river after Vand to escape the approaching figure.

“Are you friend or fae?” The figure demanded, hoisting the greenish yellow light of a lantern between them. They were cloaked in layers of thick woolen clothing and frost, two eyes peering at him suspiciously from between a scarf and a hat.

“S-s-sorry?” Taavi asked, trying to stand and failing miserably, his legs seizing up weakly and tumbling him into the snow.

“Oh great, you are human aren’t you?” The figure said, yanking down his frosted over scarf to reveal the face of a very concerned looking man.

He yanked off one of his thick leather mittens and looked over his shoulder, giving a sharp whistle with two fingers. A moment later a saddled reindeer came bounding into view through the snow, pulling up beside the man who started unbuckling pack straps.

“Yes he’s human, Sven.” The man said, presumably to the reindeer, as he rifled through a pack. “And he’s about to freeze to death, looks like the nøkk dragged him up here.”

The man shook out a thick blanket and wrapped it around Taavi, hefting him into his arms and quickly carrying him away from the dark rushing water of the river.

“W-wait, I have to talk to him.” Taavi said, trying to turn to look back. It almost felt like the blanket was charmed, its amazing warmth wrapped around him was already eating away the numbness in his bones, chasing away his violent shivering as he started to feel the edges of the familiar heat inside him starting the wake up again.

“Not a chance.” The man said firmly, trekking across the snow and into the trees. “I don’t know what that water spirit told you to drag you all the way up this mountain, but it wasn’t the truth. You can’t trust anything up here, we’re getting you warm again and then we’re getting you home. What village are you from?”

“Wait, stop. You can put me down, I’m supposed to be here.” Taavi said, struggling against the blanket as they got further away from the path Vand had pointed out to him.

His struggling made the heat inside him flicker, finally high enough that he could grab at it. A delicious heat swept through his body, eating away every bit of cold in him, making him feel alive again, his mind clearing.

The man set him down, eyeing him warily as Taavi pulled the now stifling blanket off from around his shoulders. He flexed his fingers inside his wet silk gloves and carefully pushed the heat up just a bit more, enough the dry his wet clothes, the air steaming around him as the cloth returned to its normal dry warmth. The snow at his feet melted down around him.

“Alright now that I haven’t seen before.” The man said warily, pulling out a necklace of glowing yellow crystals from under his scarf, holding onto them like they could protect him. The reindeer at his side watched Taavi with its ears pinned back in suspicion.

“I’m human, I promise,” Taavi said quickly, tugging his gloves back into place and running a hand through his river-mussed hair. “And thank you very much for your help, I accidentally fell in the river but I’m better now that I’m warm again. Vand was taking me to...see someone, I’m alright, I can keep going now.”

“Well from where I was standing it looked an awful lot like you were being drowned by a nøkk,” The man said flatly. “First question, what magic are you using, second question who was he “taking you to see”? I’m the only person on this mountain. Well, other than the idiots I have to turn back for their own protection.” He looked pointedly at Taavi.

Taavi swallowed. Talking about his abilities with two complete strangers in one night really shouldn’t have been the strangest feeling event of the evening, but it still felt unsettling after a lifetime of carefully hiding and controlling it.

“My name is Prince Taavi of Arendelle, and I was born cursed with the ability to make fire.” Taavi said, standing up straight. “I don’t know why, but the water horse says he can show me. I have to go to a palace of ice to get my answers, do you know where that is?”

“Fire huh?” The man said, rubbing his chin. “Well I’m Kristoff of the trolls, and I carry enough of their magic to know that you being up here at all is bad news. There’s a reason that Sven and I stuck around after everyone else died or left, there’s dark magic on this mountain and it’ll kill anyone who’s dumb enough to try getting near it.”

Kristoff shrugged, “I mean you’ve gotten way closer than most, I’ll give you that, but we’re taking you back home. Now. If you really are the prince then we certainly don’t need you ending up like the last queen. Sven and I have enough to deal with up here without a fire wraith.”

“You know about my aunt?” Taavi asked eagerly.

“That’s really your big takeaway from everything I just said?” Kristoff said flatly.

“Please, that’s why I’m here, no one in the palace ever talks about her,” Taavi said, “Vand said he could take me to see her.”

“Well if he told you that then he’s definitely trying to get you killed.” Kristoff said, shooting a dark look back toward the river. “He’s fae, I can guarantee he’s got his own agenda he hasn’t told you about, his kind don’t give favors for free kid.”

“But he’s my only chance at learning to control my magic!” Taavi pleaded, “Please tell me what you know about my aunt?”

Kristoff growled, dragging a hand down his face and looking at Taavi through his fingers. “Fine. But afterward you’re going straight home.”

“I make no such promise.” Taavi said, folding his arms.

Kristoff muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like spoiled royal.

“All I know is that Queen Elsa was born cursed with ice powers.” Kristoff said with a sigh. “As far as we can tell she finally lost control at her coronation and ran up here where she built her ice fortress and turned into some kind of evil ice wraith. She’s the real reason we haven’t had a summer in fifteen years you know, your family tries to keep it hushed up but it has nothing to do with the trolls like everyone says.”

Born cursed. Just like him. Taavi been right then, his suspicions when he’d found the trunk of blue gloves hadn’t been crazy after all. Aunt Elsa had been like him, but with ice instead of fire. Was she always cold the way he was always hot? Did she hate summers the way he hated winter?

Maybe she really could help him then after all, she might even know why their family had these powers in the first place.

“How do you know?” Taavi asked, looking up at Kristoff eagerly, “Who told you?”

“I only know because your grandparents asked the trolls for help ages ago,” Kristoff said. “Back when Queen Elsa was young and having trouble controlling herself I guess.”

“Wait, as in you know actual trolls?” Taavi asked, looking up. Father’s bedtime stories about trolls had never ended well, all tales of kidnapped children, stolen memories, and deals gone wrong.

“You got something against trolls?” Kristoff asked, folding his arms. “I was raised by them, they’re my family. They all moved away when the winter curse hit, but their magic is how Sven and I survive. How we were able to save you from being drowned by a nøkk I might add.”

Kristoff was a changeling? That meant he had been kidnapped from his real parents as a child. Did he even remember that?

“He wasn’t trying to drown me, I dismounted before he was ready and I can’t swim.” Taavi said primly, folding his own arms back at Kristoff. “And now as Prince of Arendelle, I command you to take me to the ice palace. Fortress. Whatever it is. Please.”

Kristoff looked at him with a distinctly unimpressed expression. “Sorry your highness but you’re going straight back home.” He said flatly.

“Fine, I’ll go myself then.” Taavi decided, turning around and starting to pick his way back toward the river. It was slow going, his warm boots sinking down in snow that came all the way to his hips with every step.

“No you’re not.” Kristoff said, walking over on his snowshoes and hefting Taavi up out of the snow by his collar. “My job is to keep people away from that fortress and that’s what I’m going to do. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s treason or something if I let a prince go to his death.”

“Let me go!” Taavi said, reaching back clumsily to whack at Kristoff, the heat inside him spiking in frustration.

There was a yelp and Taavi dropped face first into the snow. When he wiped the snow from his eyes and looked back he saw Kristoff shaking his bare hand like he’d been burned.

“Geez you weren’t kidding about that fire magic.” Kristoff said, hissing a little with pain.

“I’m sorry!” Taavi cried, jumping up. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to burn you, sometimes I can’t control it and-”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Kristoff huffed, bending down to stick his hand in the snow. “Believe me, I’ve been burned worse before on my own campfires. But I guess this means I can’t drag you down the mountain if you don’t want to go, huh?”

Taavi bit his lip, folding his arms tightly against the heat inside him as he shook his head. “I have to go, I have to find my answers.”

Kristoff pulled his hand out of the snow, checking it before wiping it dry on his pants and carefully pulling his leather mitten back on. He looked Taavi over.

“Well...” Kristoff said reluctantly. “I really don’t want you to end up an icicle kid, I’ve seen it happen too many times, it’s not pretty. But if I can’t convince you otherwise I guess that’s that.” He pulled his thick woolen cap off, scratching at his blonde hair and then pulling it back on. “Although if you can ramp up that fire magic of yours I guess there might—and that’s a real slim might—be a shred of a one in a million chance of you surviving...”

“Vand says he’s waiting for me left of the front gate.” Taavi said, “I think he knows my aunt, he can make sure nothing happens to me. And I’ll keep myself warm I promise.”

Kristoff stared at him for a long minute, then let out a long growling sigh. He turned to Sven’s saddlebags, fishing something small out of one and handing it to Taavi. A small wooden whistle.

“Sven and I can't risk getting much closer to the fortress, even with our troll magic.” Kristoff said, handing Taavi the whistle. “But we can take you to the edge of the forest where you’ll be able to see it. When you come to your senses blow the whistle and we’ll do our best to come grab you, if we can get to you while you’re still alive, without us dying, we’ll take you straight home.”

Taavi bi the inside of his cheek as he took the little whistle. “Thanks.” He said, pocketing it.

“Alright then, let’s take you to your death.” Kristoff said humorlessly as he strapped Sven’s saddlebags closed. “This way kid, keep that heat of yours going, you’re going to need it.”

Kristoff and Sven started off across the snow and Taavi hurried to keep up, carefully increasing his internal heat and holding it steady. It was hotter than he’d ever purposefully held it, but the farther they trudged through the dark trees the more he needed it, the temperature seeming to drop a little more with each step.

His legs were getting tired of pushing through the melting snow, carving a deep path behind him, but the heat inside him only seemed to eagerly grow, happily responding to his call as if pouring from a limitless reservoir he was finally tapping into for the first time.

By the time Kristoff finally pulled them to a stop at the edge of the trees Taavi was grinning in excitement at how much heat he was putting out. He could actually smell the heated scent of his clothing, a near singed smell, but the cold of air meant he was still only melting the snow directly around him. How cold was it up here?

“Alright, there it is.” Kristoff said grimly, gesturing out beyond the trees.

Taavi pushed ahead a little more to see, his heat spiking a bit when he finally saw it.

Vand has said it was an ice palace, Kristoff had described it as an ice fortress. Taavi would have said it was an ice lair. The massive building was easily several times bigger than the Arendelle castle, settled up against the maintain peak as if it had grown there.

There were sleek purple blue lines and delicate spires of ice to it, as if it had once been a thing of beauty, but it looked as if years had changed and warped its original design. Darker, sharper ice had expanded the fortress, breaking its symmetry. A sea of spikes defensively overgrew the grounds around it like a forest of thorns.

Taavi stared at it mouth open. One person had made all that? Despite its foreboding aura he couldn’t help wondering if he had that kind of power in him too if Aunt Elsa had been able to create something like that all on her own.

He felt the flame inside him leap at the thought. Let’s try. It seemed to say. Let me out, let’s see what we can do.

“So, ready to go home?” Kristoff said, jolting Taavi out of his reverie.

“Not yet.” Taavi said, trying and failing to keep his smile off his face. He knew this was hardly the time for it, but he couldn’t help the primal kind of excitement building in him. It felt like the flame he was always trying to hold back was waking up for the first time. “I’m going in to meet Vand.” Taavi said, holding up the whistle. He didn’t quite notice the way his fingerprints darkened the wood slightly where he touched it. “I’ll call you if I need to.”

Kristoff and Sven exchanged a look that Taavi couldn’t quite read, but he guessed the two of them certainly weren’t reassured by his smile.

“It was nice knowing you kid.” Kristoff said, taking a large step back. “If you become the next curse on this mountain just remember we helped you out and don’t burn us alive, alright?”

Taavi got the feeling that Kristoff wasn’t joking at all.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Taavi said. He gave a little bow, “And thank you again for your help, I really do appreciate it, my parents can reward you when we get back to the castle.”

Kristoff gave him a good natured thumbs up as Taavi started forging ahead, but he could tell the man didn’t believe for a second that he was ever going to see any reward at all.

Taavi bit his lip, focusing on the path ahead. Well, he was just going to have to show Kristoff then. He was going to get in, get his answers, and get out safely. The reindeer man didn’t know what he was talking about.

Taavi stepped forward out of the darkness of the trees, his footsteps melting through the snow as he walked, then the snow gave way to thick crusts of ice that resisted his heat. The ice started to get prickly underfoot, making his path an unsteady one, and soon he was carefully ducking through and around huge tangled spikes of dark ice that choked the path entirely.

It took some doing, but Taavi finally reached a slim stairway that spanned a dizzyingly steep abyss between him and the fortress. Or at least it looked like it used to be a slim stairway, the first half was smashed off as if something huge had crashed through it long ago. A jagged mess of ice and snowdrifts had eaten down what little proper stairway there was left, spanning the chasm in a much wider but more dangerous looking bridge.

Taavi wanted badly to look down over the edge of the makeshift bridge, but knew for a fact that if he did that his chances of being permanently rooted to the spot in fear were about a hundred percent.

He swallowed hard as he eyed the precarious pathway, following it up to where he could see the ice fortress looming above him, a front entrance watching him from above.

He absently fiddled with the wooden whistle in his pocket as he bit the inside of his cheek. The excitement he’d felt a minute ago was waning fast, and he could feel the heat inside him turning to one fueled by fear now instead of determination, flaring a bit with each beat of his heart.

But Vand wouldn’t have told him to go to the front door if it hadn’t been safe right? He’d said there would be answers for Taavi in the castle, things that could help him finally control his fire curse. He just had to control it until he got to the other side of the bridge. Melting the bridge while he was on it would only have one very deadly ending.

Taavi took a deep breath, then another and another, chasing the scared heat inside him as far down as he could manage. Control, don’t be controlled. He could do this, he could keep control for the minutes it would take to get across.

He looked to his right and found a long thin ice spike, he grabbed it and yanked, cracking it off at the base. Still breathing deeply he used the ice spike to hit the foot of the bridge. It clattered against the solid ice underneath a layer of snow.

Okay. Okay okay okay.

Taavi focused on the cold of the ice in his hands, wishing he could fold his arms to chase back his heat as he took a step into the bridge, keeping to the very middle of it, as far away from the railingless edges as possible.

Take a deep breath to tamp down his heat, tap for solid ground with the ice spike, take a step forward. Deep breath, tap, step. Breath, tap, step.

Taavi inched forward up the steep bridge, humming nervously to himself as he made sure to plant each foot securely before putting his weight on it. Slipping was not an option.

Breath, tap, step. Breath, tap, step.

After a minute of slow going he chanced a glance up and back. He was about halfway to the proper stairs now, he’d have something to hold onto then. If he could just-

A gust of icy mountain wind came whipping around the peak, hitting Taavi from the side just as he took another step. His foot slipped and he slid against a patch of ice, dropping him to his knees. His hum turned to a panicked whine as his fingers dug into the snow, his panic only spiking further as his heat flared and his gloved fingers started melting into the ice beneath the snow.

The ice that was the only thing between him and the gaping abyss below him.

No no no.

Taavi stumbled to his feet, then slipped again, his adrenaline now surging along with and because of the flaring heat flowing off him. He couldn’t breathe as the ice and snow around and under him became even more slick with ice melt.

He had to get across now.

Taavi lunged forward and up the bridge, staying low as he scrambled up the failing bridge, his own powers flaring stronger in fear with every step. He reached the proper bridge part and grabbed at the railing, only for his hand to melt right through it, throwing him even more badly off balance, making him even hotter as all control he’d thought he’d had evaporated as quickly as the snow underfoot.

He could smell singed cloth as he madly propelled himself up the last of the steps, his foot actually catching on the last one as it melted straight through the thin ice, slamming him forward onto his face.

But onto the cliff, not the stairs. As the snow and ice melted around him Taavi nearly cried in relief to see sturdy and unmeltable rock revealed underneath him.

He yanked his foot up onto solid ground after him and looked back at the bridge, panting in heady relief. The bridge stared back at him silently, as foreboding as ever. The patches he’d melted had already refrozen in the frigid mountain air, into dripping icicles off the side or through the small foot and hand shaped divots that had melted through the thinner parts.

A normal person could probably still cross it easily, but in that moment Taavi had to pretend very hard to himself that he wasn’t going to have to cross it again to get back home.

Once his breath started to feel less painful he wrestled back what heat he could back under control. Taavi shakily got to his feet, folding his arms tightly and looking up at the fortress walls soaring high above him. The entire building emanated an eerie pink glow from deep within its dark ice, as if lit by some malevolent force within.

Taavi looked back over the chasm, suddenly wishing very much that Kristoff had come with him. Or that maybe Kristoff had been more convincing when he’d told him to go home...

But no. Taavi had made it this far, he couldn’t turn back now.

Vand had said to look to the left, that there would be a pool of water. Taavi took a deep breath, sticking as close to the ragged walls of the ice palace as he could as he picked his way through the snow and ice, heading away from the front doors. Now he was grateful again that his steps melted through the snow, giving him more solid footholds that wouldn't send him slipping over the cliff edge to his left that he was not going to look at.

His pace quickened as he heard the gurgling trickle of running water, and he felt relief wash through him as he turned a final corner to see a familiar willowy figure come into view.

“Vand!” Taavi called out, hurrying to him.

“There you are prince,” Vand said with a smile, waving him over. The water spirit was standing in a canal of water that was somehow liquid despite the canal itself being made entirely of polished ice. “I was starting to wonder if you’d fallen off a cliff after all.” Vand said cheerfully, “Here, follow me and keep quiet.” He waved Taavi over, taking his hand and helping him into the canal with him, “Keep that heat up this time, I imagine this water isn’t much warmer than the river.”

It might have been the way the freezing water came up to Taavi’s chest, or the fact that he’d just been talking to a real human with Kristoff just now, but for the first time Vand’s distinctly inhuman lack of real concern registered with Taavi. Was he even going to ask about Kristoff?

It wasn’t exactly that the nøkk was unkind, but just that he was...distant... Where Kristoff had been willing to get burned to keep him safe, the water horse only seemed concerned with coaxing him further up the mountain, further into the ice fortress, further towards the admittedly vague reward he’d promised Taavi. Whether or not that happened to involve risking drowning or falling off cliffs.

He’s fae, I can guarantee he’s got his own agenda he hasn’t told you about, his kind don’t give favors for free kid.

“Hang on,” Taavi said, pulling his arm back from Vand as the water spirit started to lead him through the tunnel in the ice fortresses’ wall. “What exactly are we going to find in there?”

“You’ll see.” Vand said, not even looking back as he continued to walk along the surface of the water.

“Vand, stop.” Taavi said, standing as firmly as he could in lightly flowing water, digging his fingers into the ice edge of the canal. “The man I met back there said that Elsa is dangerous now, that she’s killed people. If I’m about to go into her ice fortress I need to know what to expect. You promised me answers, but I can’t get them if I’m dead.”

Vand looked back to Taavi, tilting his head. He walked back over and crouched down beside Taavi. “Well of course she’s dangerous,” he said simply, his pale eyes shining in the moonlight. “Everything truly beautiful in this world is dangerous.”

“That is not what I mean,” Taavi said, adjusting his grip on the side as his nervous heat began to melt through his hand hold. “I mean what is she, and is she going to kill me if I go in?”

“She is trapped and she is scared.” Vand said quietly, and for the first time Taavi could see real emotion on his face. Sadness maybe? “I won’t let you come to harm, but we will have to be very careful. We are going to sneak in quietly and then I will go to prepare her to meet you. She hasn’t seen anyone but me in a very long time, but I think you are the only person in the world who will be able to reach her.”

“What do you mean reach her?” Taavi asked, somehow feeling both more and less confident at Vand’s answers. It was becoming clear that Vand did have another reason for bringing him up here, just as Kristoff had said. “Is she a ghost? A monster? Is she dead or not?”

“Monsters are only what humans call things they both fear and cannot control.” Vand said, looking at Taavi hard, “Isn’t that why you keep your powers secret? Because you fear what other humans will call you if they found out? Because you’re afraid they would know the answer to the question you’re afraid of answering yourself?”

“Stop talking in riddles.” Taavi demanded, dodging the question, “Vand, I need to know if I can trust you or not.”

“You can trust me.” Vand said, “Any other human? Perhaps not, but you’re cut from the same cloth as Elsa and I. Your magic sets you apart, but it sets you among us as well. Elsa is more spirit than human now, but it is the human part of her that is caught and tangled, trapping her here. My hope is that you can help her untangle it and then she will be able to assist you back. The complexities of human emotion are...not within my realm of expertise, which is why I need your help.”

Well at least half a cryptic answer was better than no answer.

“You know if you’d been this vague and mystical sounding back at the castle I wouldn’t have come with you.” Taavi huffed.

Vand laughed, a musical flowing sound that somehow made him feel a little less annoyed.

“Yes you would have.” Vand said with a grin, “You’re too much like your mother and father to stay away from what you want. And besides, your magic pulls you toward the truth. Which is perhaps the most dangerous thing of all.” Vand took Taavi’s hand and stood, pulling him up to stand on the surface of the water with him, the water feeling solid under his feet. “Now, stay close to me and keep quiet, keep your heat as high as you can and on the ready.” He paused, looking at Taavi. “Does that sound alright?”

It didn’t, it still sounded like something Taavi wanted to ask a million more questions about to get specific details. But Vand was right about one thing, Taavi was in the realm of magic now. Taavi had known at least that much when he’d agreed to come, and anyone who had ever heard a fairy tale in their lives knew that when it came to magic you were never going to be shown all the answers at once.

Taavi wasn’t going to be able to have complete control of the situation and he was going to have to accept that at least a little for now.

“Let’s go.” Taavi said, nodding. “Just...warn me if I’m about to do something stupid again, like at the river.”

Vand chuckled, then started down the tunnel, Taavi in tow, “I’ll do my best.”

Taavi tried to return the smile but only managed to bite his lip hard enough to make it bleed as he followed Vand deeper into the fortress.

———–

Next chapter soon, be sure to follow to get it as soon as it posts. As always, my ask box is open to worldbuilding/story questions, comments, and general exclamations. :)

#frozen #frozen 2 #ablaze au #elsa #kristoff #sven #my ocs #vand #taavi #in the tradition of MC kids this MC kid has no idea what he's getting himself into

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vertanimeni · 5 years ago

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the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (3/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy/Grounder OC

Word Count: 3,543

TW: ...drugs? Jobi nuts.

A/N: Hi hi! After some convincing from my friends, I decided to post this series here :D I’ve already finished with season 1 and half of season 2, I’m just in the middle of re-writing and editing. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. I’ll be updating every other day at 12pm EST. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

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iii. insolence.

As soon as Kova had realized where the invaders planned on dragging Lincoln off to, they sprinted all the way back to Chief Indra’s camp and stumbled out an explanation on what happened to their brother. They hadn’t considered that they weren’t exactly at a good point in their relationship seeing as the Chief wouldn’t put him in danger, but instead of sending a team with Kova to get him back—

“So, will you stand there and waste my time, or will you explain to me what you had told the Chief?”

—the Chief sent them to General Tristan, who had been ordered to fill Lincoln’s absence as scout facilitator by the Lieutenant. How they managed to fill his position so quickly, Kova didn’t know, and they didn’t want to think about how expendable they might have seen their younger brother. And now, here they were, watching as the invaders dragged Lincoln’s body into their camp. The General passed his binoculars to the scout in the branches below him before standing. The tree they scouted in was tall, full of leaves, and just far enough from the camp that they didn’t have to worry about potentially getting caught.

His words were harsh enough to bring Kova out of their stupor. “I already told you everything I know, General.” Their worried eyes fixated on the drop ship. “What do we do?”

“Nothing.” He merely observed as Lincoln disappeared into the drop ship. “He has been compromised. There is nothing left we can do for him. I suggest you return to your duties at the training camp. You may take a day off to mourn if you wish.”

His words sunk in slowly. “Nothing? Mourn?”

With no response, General Tristan walked past them, his robes flickering against their shoulder. On instinct they grabbed the edge of the fabric, preventing him from moving. “Despite involuntarily leaving TonDC, Lincoln is one of the most loyal warriors of Trikru. You dare abandon him in this manner?”

“You dare talk to me in this manner?” The General snapped, snatching his robes back. “Tell me, Elephant of Caocin—” It was subtle, but Kova flinched, and Tristan pounced. “—did you have a plan prepared before you went to the Chief? Or to me?”

They remained silent, their fists trembling, nails cutting into the palm of their skin.

“I’m sure you are aware, but after the events of the Mountain, you became very well known for your brutal plans. And to be truthful with you, I was not present when the incident at the Mountain took place.” He turned away from them. “However, Chief Indra and Lieutenant Anya were, and those two spoke highly of you, mostly for being able to separate emotions from duty.” The General looked over his shoulder, a sneer stretched across his nose. “Yet, it seems seclusion has made you soft, Elephant of Caocin.”

“I cannot say I find that to be an insult, General.” They gritted out through clenched teeth. A hand clapped against their shoulder.

“You most certainly should. Lincoln may be your brother, but he is not important enough to risk the Commander’s plan.” The General met Kova’s shocked, wide eyes, and had the audacity to laugh at their predicament. “Yes, the orders to leave Lincoln behind came from the Commander herself.”

Two different pains shot throughout Kova’s shoulder — one sharp, from the General’s nails digging into their collar bone, and the other dull, from how tightly he squeezed. But not once did they show their discomfort. “I will warn you once, and only once. Do not interfere.” The pressure lightened ever so slightly before it completely disappeared. “You are dismissed.”

Dismissed? Dismissed?! There was nothing Kova wanted to do more than to scream, to shout at the unfairness of it all, to curse out the General and this so called Commander. Instead, Kova gritted their teeth, set their jaw tight, as if the moment they let go they would act upon their violent thoughts, and hissed, “Yes sir.”

They didn’t know how they managed to speak without moving their jaw, nor did they know how they bowed their head, or how they descended the tree, for all they could feel was their rage cooling down, leaving only a heavy stone in their stomach. The weight would make a man drop to his knees, to beg the Gods for forgiveness and for help.

But they were no man, and this weight was familiar, one that Kova had carried for over two years, one that they no longer needed help from Gods that no longer listened, not since they cursed themselves at the Mountain. Instead, they seethed with spite and found themselves sitting in an isolated tree, hanging just above a corner of the invaders’ camp, hidden by green leaves, some of which were turning yellow and orange. One leg hung over the side of the branch while the other was pressed against their own chest.

‘If I don’t follow orders,’ Kova summarized their options, ‘my people will punish me. If I do, I lose a brother.’

Oh, there was no doubt which side Kova would take. They knew the moment the General spoke. Tristan’s words rang in their head. “He is not important enough to risk the Commander’s plan.”

“He is to me.”

Expendable. That’s what the warriors were to Trikru, and they hated themselves for taking this long to realize it.

Light flickered at the corner of their eye. They looked down at the invaders’ camp, only to see a chain of people packing very familiar nuts into small aluminum packages the reflected the sun with every crease.

Kova couldn’t hold back the devious smirk that formed on their lips.

‘I am well known for my brutal plans, am I not?’

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“I’m gonna go pee.” The tent flapped open, exposing Jasper to the cool air. The nuts he had eaten were really good, gave him a better high than anything he smoked back on the Ark. He walked up to one of the secluded sections of the walls protecting the camp and threw his empty pack of nuts to the side. Shortly after unzipping his pants, he caught a glimpse of someone sprinting past the wall on the other side. “What the…”

Jasper shook his head. Nah. He must be high as shit, right? It can’t be what he thinks it is. But curiosity got to the better of him, and he stepped closer to the hole to get a better look. His pupils dilated.

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Octavia, on the other hand, was having the time of her life, sewing some furs together while sitting on a log. Alone. Don’t get her wrong though, Bellamy was a good brother, but his doting was really cramping her social life down here on the ground. She just wanted to have fun, ("Octavia!") was that too much to ask for? She spent her whole ("Octavia!") life underneath that stupid floor—

"Octavia!" Jasper cried out, unaware of the looks he was getting from the other teens as he ran up to her. He gripped her shoulders and rocked her back and forth. “Listen, I think I’m going crazy, or the grounders are here — or I’m going crazy and—“

“Pause. You need to slow down!” She pushed his hands off her shoulders and held the sides of his arms. “Relax and tell me what you saw.”

In the midst of describing his experience at the wall, he saw the very same grounder standing in the middle of the camp. “Him, he’s right there! Why isn’t anyone doing anything?”

“Jasper, there’s no one there. Stop it!” Her eyes flickered between him and the area he was pointing too. “Are you on something?”

“We’re all gonna die,” He mumbled softly. As if resigned to his fate, he ate more of the nuts he had in his pocket.

Octavia snatched the pack from his hand and examined it. “Is this all you’ve eaten today?”

“It doesn’t matter now, we’re all gonna die anyways.”

‘Oh, he’s definitely high as shit.’ "Hold on.” She looked to her left and seized a stray stick from the forest floor. “Here, take this.”

“It’s...just a branch?”

“No,” She wiggled her finger, a knowing smirk on her face, “this here? It’s an anti-grounder stick. If you hold on to it and sit right here, the grounders won’t be able to see you.”

He immediately dropped to the floor, clutching the stick tight in his arms as if it were his life line. “Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll just stay right here then.”

“Of course it makes sense.” She patted his back and spotted the boxes full of the Jobi nuts. “Just stay right here.”

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With their back pressed against a perfect hiding spot — a mutated tree that formed a c-shape around them — their breathing was short, quick, and panicked. The mask they wore grew warm and sweaty with each breath to the point where they had to tip it over their head. How is it that they almost got caught without even entering yet?!

The area they had planned to climb over was mostly concealed by vegetation and was rarely watched by either the invaders or Trikru’s spies. Kova made sure of that — they couldn’t have the scouts seeing them, too. Intruding should have been easy. All Kova had to was climb a hanging tree, crawl to the other side of the barrier, and fall into the bushes.

But then this dumbass just absolutely had to take a piss right when they ran past the crack and climbed the tree. They hadn’t even noticed the hole in the wall until it was too late! And to make it worse, the dumb fuck was the boy who had crossed the river. Kova would recognize those dumb goggles anywhere, seeing as Trikru had drawn the boy based on the descriptions of the scout that supposedly killed him.

Maybe if that scout had done his job right, Kova wouldn’t be stuck in this situation, hidden out of fear as the boy shouted about grounders invading the camp. Kova’s heart raced rapidly. There was no way they fucked this up already, right? Not just the General, but the Commander herself would have their head over this matter if the invaders didn’t kill them first.

“There’s a grounder! It’s right there!”

The voice projected in their direction, and for the first time in years, they prayed to whatever God that could be listening to not be discovered. Every muscle, every tendon in their body was tense, ready to sprint into action at any moment. But when they looked through the foliage hiding them from the rest of the camp, the boy wasn’t pointing towards them, but in the opposite direction, cowering in fear over… an invisible grounder?

Oh, Kova was so tempted to laugh. They held it in, even when the other invaders and the girl he spoke to gave him strange looks, even when the girl gave him an ‘anti-grounder’ stick. Looks like the Jobi nuts kicked in just in time. Kova watched as the boy collapsed to the ground, holding the stick. ‘Oh. How terrifying. I can’t believe I worried over something like that. But… grounder? Is that what they’re calling us?’

Well, it wasn’t like they could say much, seeing as Trikru had named the group invaders.

Their amusement turned into confusion fairly quickly. The sky girl had realized the boy had eaten the hallucinatory Jobi nuts. Yet, instead of recalling the packages, she went around camp and handed them out like freebies. Strange. Maybe she hadn’t made the connection? Well, regardless, it would make this a lot easier for them.

Kova switched their gaze to more important matters. They hadn’t seen Lincoln leave the drop ship, so he must still be in there. They dropped their mask, covering their face. Sticking to the shadows of the drop ship’s side and approaching the entrance, Kova sneaked past the curtains and slid behind some bins to the side of the entrance before anyone could see them.

The same sky girl came by not even a moment later and climbed up a ladder and opened the hatch, spoke to someone inside briefly and came back down to leave. A few moments after she left, a different boy clumsily scaled down the ladder and fell off when his foot missed a bar. He shook it off and stumbled past right past Kova’s hiding spot and walked through the curtains.

Kova didn’t start their warrior training yesterday. They knew something was amiss. But this might have been their only change to save Lincoln. And so, now that there were no invaders around, they set their determined eyes on the ladder.

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Lincoln didn’t start their warrior training yesterday. He knew the sky girl, Octavia, who for some reason had taken an interest in him, was planning something. He couldn’t tell if her soft actions towards him were out of gratefulness for saving her a few days ago, or if it was guilt over his capture. But she had given the young sky boy watching him a packet of Jobi nuts, and based on the knowing twinkle in her eye when she made eye contact with him, she knew exactly what those nuts did.

But then she left, and once the nuts took on their effect, the sky boy stumbled down the ladder, saying how bored he was watching him. Lincoln couldn’t help but let out a laugh once the hatch closed behind the boy, although it was more of a huff than anything.

Regardless, there he was. Alone. He had no idea if Octavia planned on helping him get out of the wires around his wrists or if she expected him to somehow do it himself, but he barely had enough energy to stand, let alone escape.

He let his head hang, his body slump, and briefly wondered if this was how he was meant to die. Alone. At the hands of invaders. Maybe his death would spring Trikru into action. Only the Gods know they won’t be saving him any time soon, not with the plans they had for the group.

His thoughts traveled to Kova. During the battle at the Mountain, he was worried any conversation of theirs would be their last, and now here he was, worrying over the same thing. Would their last conversation truly be of them arguing? His heart trembled at the idea.

His ears picked up a gentle sound of hissing, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head. The drop ship made strange noises, creaks and whispers, like a wooden house against strong winds.

But this time was different, for he heard the sound of footsteps climbing up the ladder, of hands slapping against the metal floors, and of someone grunting. He gathered enough energy to lift his head, only to find someone closing the hatch as quietly as possible.

Except this someone didn’t wear leather and jeans, didn’t have unmarred skin, nor did they have a slightly bent posture, like the rest of the invaders did. If their familiar clothes or tattooed dark skin didn’t give them away, their straight posture and the mask they wore certainly did.

“A-Ko?”

“A-Lin!” They cried out quietly, tipping the mask back to rest on top of their head. Kova rushed over and felt the familiar heat of anger tumble underneath their skin as they checked on his wounds. “What the hell did they do to you?” They pulled out a knife from a hidden sheath and slashed the ropes and wires that held up his arms. They hadn’t realized he had been standing in this position for days, and wasn’t expecting for him to fall into their chest. “I got you.”

“How did you find me?” He asked while they worked on breaking the ropes around his ankles.

“I came to your camp to apologize—” As soon as he had been released, he collapsed against their side. “—Here, I got you. You’re okay.” They took one of his arms and pulled him over their shoulder to help him sit. “I found you being dragged out of your house by the invaders. I couldn’t just leave you.”

His body flushed with sudden relief from being able to sit and from their words. The adrenaline was wearing off, but he didn’t want to become dead weight when they were still in danger. “A-Ko. I’m tired.”

With the gentleness an older sibling could have, they brought their foreheads together, keeping him awake. “I know, I know you are, but we’re not safe yet. We have to go while the invaders—”

The hatch opened. Kova’s mannerisms were always swift and clean, and their actions were no different as they stood in front of Lincoln, pulling out their sword from its sheath against their hip with one hand while the other dropped the mask back over their face. Just as they were about to pounce on the young sky girl who entered, Lincoln grabbed the bottom of their pants. “Wait, don’t. Not her. Octavia is a friend.”

The sky girl startled when she noticed the sword swung at throat level, startled that even when the grounder stopped mid-swing she let the hatch drop. The grounder lowered their sword at the same time she managed to catch the handle before it could slam closed. She didn’t notice the questionable look the grounder sent at Lincoln.

‘Are you sure?’

He nodded wordlessly and they sheathed their sword. A nervous twitch of Octavia’s hand caught their attention. “Those clothes.” Kova motioned to the fabric clutched in her hand. “Are they for him?”

“Y-Yes.” Octavia shook her head, a trembling laugh tumbling out of her mouth. “Sorry, I just— I wasn’t expecting—”

Kova snatched the clothes out of her hands and knelt before Lincoln, wordlessly tapping his biceps.

“Be nice.” He chided and raised his arms up.

“Running out of time.” They didn’t bother glancing back as they tossed the jacket behind them, expecting Octavia to catch it. “The arms are inside out. Fix it while I help him.”

Thankfully, Octavia seemed to take their orders in stride. They heard the rustling of fabric behind them. Scrunching up the bottom of the shirt to the neck hole, they guided Lincoln’s head through. The fabric chafed against his wounds and he let out a small painful groan, his face scrunching up.

“I know, just wait until we get home. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

He bobbed his head and allowed Octavia to slide the jacket on. Both she and Kova supported him with an arm over their shoulders and helped him shuffle his way to the hatch.

“I’ll go down first, make sure no one is around.” Kova swung onto the ladder, but before they descended, they looked at Octavia with sharp eyes, but soft words. “I saw you with the Jobi nuts.” Without hesitation, they held their forearm out. Octavia slowly offered her own, and Kova gripped it with the strength of a protective older sibling. They gave her a short nod. “Thank you.”

“It was my fault. He shouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place.” Octavia glanced at Lincoln, and while Kova could obviously see the guilt in her eyes, there was something more. “I’m sorry this happened to him, I really did try to stop it.”

Something told Kova they didn’t want to know what that look meant. “…mn.” They turned to Lincoln. “Meet you downstairs.”

They descended without another word. Halfway down, they heard the soft murmurs of a conversation above them, and a sudden realization popped up and slammed Kova across the head. ‘She’s the girl from his journal.’ Their foot missed a bar, but they were close enough to the ground that they could jump off and land quietly.

After making sure the coast was clear, the last thing they wanted to do was look up, but they did, and by the Gods did they regret it. They caught a brief glimpse of Lincoln on the ladder, leaning over the entrance of the hatch towards where Octavia was, his face out of sight.

Kova looked away fast enough to hear the joints in their neck cracking. They faked a retching noise, quiet enough as to not alert anyone, but audible enough that Lincoln shot back from the hatch and climbed down. He thought Kova would help him with the last few bars, but when he didn’t feel any hands on him he looked at them questioningly.

“If you have enough energy to be making out with an intruder, you have the energy to climb down yourself.” They couldn’t help but tease, a smug look on their face as they crossed their arms.

He rolled his eyes and dropped down, and before he could even think about stumbling forward, Kova’s hands guided his across their shoulders. They led him past the curtains and into the bushes, away from everyone’s view. There was no way he could climb the same way Kova entered camp, so the exit would have to do.

There was nothing Kova wanted to do more than tease him a bit further — after all, it was rare for their younger brother to find interest in anyone — but before they could, the two were face to face with a sky boy. A sober one.

Lincoln recognized him as Finn, the boy he stabbed before he was knocked out. He communicated this as a ‘warning’ to his sibling with one squeeze to their shoulder and they took out a knife. Kova knew that if the sky boy were to try anything, they would have to drop Lincoln to fight, and they weren’t sure if they were willing to risk that.

So one could only imagine their surprise when they realized the knife wasn’t necessary. Finn jutted his head towards the exit and stepped to the side with his hands up. Kova wasn’t one to look at an opportunity and throw it away, so they dragged Lincoln along slowly towards the opening, as if one wrong move would set alarms off within the camp. They kept their eyes on Finn until they reached the forest line, then unceremoniously picked up Lincoln across their back and started jogging.

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#bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake iamgines #the 100 imagines #bellamy blake #the 100 #the night our stars aligned (and our breaths touched)#my writing #writeblr #wip fanfic

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rose-gold-romantic · 5 years ago

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Whatever It Takes: Chapter Two

A Loki x Reader based in the Tesseract fic universe! Avengers: Infinity War follow-up fic. Next in the Tesseract fic series. Links to Tesseract, Lokasenna, What Heroes Do, and Fidelity. Also to my AU Feel You.

I WOULD LOVE FEEDBACK! Want to be tagged in updates? Let me know!

@malignentmac @fandomsfanman @i-am-supermerwholoked221b @markusstraya @sincereleygmg @pandaqua @person-born-winchester

Just a forewarning, this one has a major POV shift from the past entries, since Reader was Dusted at the end of Fidelity! Keeping with my recent trend in fic titles, it’s named after a track on the official soundtrack. I also constantly watch this Video, and recommend it to hype you up!

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Banner groaned, running a hand down his face, “You’re telling me that not only is Tony still gone, but Fury disappeared too?”

“It would seem that way.” Striker mumbled. “The only thing we’ve found at Fury’s last known location is some sort of pager. We fear the battery might run out soon though.”

“Send it here.” Steve said, “We will find a way to keep it running. If that’s all Fury cared about when he started dusting, that means it must be extremely important. Is the pager flashing any words or coordinates?”

“We’ll send it to the Avengers Compound now.” Striker confirmed, handing the object off to someone outside of the projection’s range. “You should receive it within an hour. And as far as any clues on the pager, the only thing the screen is showing is a strange symbol with a star of sorts at the center. At first we thought it was an older design of your suit, Cap, but after some research we found that to be inaccurate.”

“So you have no idea who this device is calling?” I asked, “Or if whoever at the other end is even around after all that happened?”

“Listen here,” Striker snapped, “We don’t exactly have much to go on at this point, and if it was important to Fury, it’s worth a shot at keeping around. You are on some THIN ice, and if it wasn’t for Roger’s steadfast defence of you and your apparently “changed” character, you’d be on your way to the Raft right now.”

“That’s enough.” Steve said, stepping between myself and the projection of Striker, “Thank you, sir. We’ll get that thing hooked up to a generator of sorts ASAP and let you know if we hear anything back.”

Steve shut off the projection, taking a heavy sigh as the blue light fizzled out.

“Thank you.” I said, surprised that he would have defended me in any capacity. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” he replied, a smile briefly flashing on his face, “But you really have changed. I think that deserves a second chance alone, notwithstanding that I don’t like it when people bully others. I’m also not Striker’s biggest fan, so it made the whole ordeal easier for me to begin with.”

Steve leaned closer to me, lowering his voice to a hushed tone, “And Thor needs you here, not locked away somewhere leaving him all alone.”

Thor sat in an adjacent room, his brooding features the only external indication of the trauma that had occurred days prior. A bowl of rolls sat in front of him, untouched but waiting should he change his mind.

“I want to make sure he doesn’t start self-destructing with guilt after the way things happened.” Steve said, “If there’s anything you think will help, we could really use your insight.”

I paused, taken aback with Steve’s sudden complete trust, and his reaching out for my help. While the experiences of the past few days had been nothing short of devastating, I had a hard time comprehending that someone who once viewed me (and perhaps rightly so) as an enemy was treating me with such empathy and compassion... almost as a friend.

“If there’s anything we can do to monitor where half of our remaining people might be, that would be a good place to start.” I said, gesturing to some of the readouts that were projected along the walls. “One of us was able to get a group of our people away from Thanos’ ship and should be heading this way. If they send out a distress signal, we will need to be able to assist them in their journey here.”

“On it.” Natasha said, “Would you guys send out a distress signal in whatever language it is that you guys normally speak, or is it english?”

“It would be in Allspeak, so you’ll be able to understand it.” I clarified, “I don’t know where they ran to though, so it would be best to scan in a general radius outwards from earth to ensure we pick up any signal they send.”

As Natasha and I set up the monitoring frequencies that we would need, Banner went about producing a generator for the pager that would soon arrive.

“I hope that whatever Fury had in mind with this pager, it works.” Steve said, sitting in one of the nearby office chairs.

“For everyone’s sake, I agree.” Bruce mumbled.

We all sat around the conference room days later, watching the global missing persons count steadily ascend as the pager beeped away in its container down the hall.

“This is a nightmare.” Steve signed, his eyes trained on the growing number projected in front of us.

“I’ve had better nightmares.” Natasha replied, sighing.

Rhodey walked in moments later, breaking our attention away from the screens.

“Hey.” he said, leaning against the door frame. “So that thing just stopped doing whatever the hell it was doing.”

We all followed Rhodes into the other room, where Bruce stood by the pager, its screen dead and blank behind the glass.

“What have we got?” Natasha asked.

“Whatever signal it was sending finally crapped out.” Bruce responded.

“I thought we bypassed the battery?” Steve countered.

“Oh, we did, it’s still plugged in.” Rhodes answered, “It just stopped.”

“Is there no way to turn it on again?” I asked, “Surely there’s a power switch.”

“Reboot it, send the signal again.” Steve agreed.

“We don’t even know what this is!” Banner said, irritation lacing his voice.

“Fury did.” Natasha said quietly. “Just do it please. You tell me the second you get a signal, I want to know who’s on the other end of that thing.”

The second Natasha had finished her statement, my blood ran cold. Something powerful was closeby, and we were nearly defenseless…

Natasha and I turned at the same time, but I was the only one holding a knife up in response.

A woman stood before us, her appearance seemingly completely human, but an energy radiated from her the likes of which I had only seen once before. There was something extremely familiar about the power, but it was also different in a way that I could not yet discern. Whatever it might be, she was most definitely a force to be reckoned with.

“Where’s Fury?” She said, staring all of us down.

“You’re the one he called for?” Steve questioned, and pointed to the symbol on her suit. “That’s the symbol that was on the pager.”

I lowered my knife slowly, “Fury has met the same unfortunate demise as half of this universe.” I said, “Not before sending the message that has undoubtedly brought you here.”

“Do you know what happened?” she asked, her stance relaxing slightly. “And my name is Carol Danvers. I’ve known Fury for a very long time.”

Bruce interjected, “You ever heard of a guy named Thanos?”

“Can’t say that I have, the universe is a big place.” She quipped, irritated with how long it was taking to get the information she desired.

“Well he’s the reason everything’s happened.” Bruce responded, “He took all the infinity stones, the power stone, the mind stone, the tesseract-”

“The tesseract?” she interrupted. “I thought Fury had that safely tucked away.”

“A lot has changed since you were with Fury.” Steve said, sighing. “I know all too well how fast things move when you’re not around to see them. We’re trying to formulate a plan to find him and bring him to justice, whatever justice we can manage. To find out where he is, we need to find out if Tony Stark is still alive, and if he is, we need to bring him home.”

“Where was he headed last?” She said, “I’ll find him.”

“He was last seen following a giant donut spaceship out of the atmosphere.” Rhodey said, “He followed because some squid looking thing had taken Doctor Strange and the time stone, but we don’t really have a heading.”

“If that’s the case, he’ll be on Titan.” I said, sighing. “Maw was doubtless trying to bring that stone back to Thanos so he could pursue the other that remained on earth.”

“Titan it is.” Danver said, marching outside quickly before shooting into the atmosphere and out of sight.

“Who the hell is she?” Rhodes snarked.

“Whoever she is, she has nearly the full force of the Tesseract’s power within her.” I said, turning to face the rest of the Avengers. “Yet it’s in a different form than the kind that resided in (Y/N).”

My heart sank and was pulled at by another wave of anger and heartache merely mentioning her name again. Before I could control it, my face flickered with the emotions that I did not want to deal with in front of anyone. I had dealt with grief many times before, of course, but this time I couldn’t simply run away and be alone. I saw the appeal of Thor’s choice to seclude himself even in the Avengers compound.

“Let’s just be glad she’s on our side, then.” Steve said, gripping my shoulder in support. “Maybe there’s a chance she can help us find him and make him bring everyone back.”

#loki #loki x reader #fanfiction #marvel #endgame #tesseract #lokasenna #what heroes do #fidelity #self insert #Whatever it takes #infinity war #captain marvel

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leo-lucid · 5 years ago

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Bewitching Which Monster Chapter 1: The Home

The road to my new home was bumpy and long. I looked out the window from my cab and watched the trees go by. I smiled a little as I saw the wind start to blow up the colorful leaves that were lying on the dirt road. They swirled around within the air and landed on the back on the ground behind us. Oh yeah, I could totally find myself living here and practicing my magic for a while.

"So, what brings you all the way down here? Young women tend to go off to the big cities, not small towns with nothing but forest for miles." My driver tried to make conversation. I settled back into my seat and looked at her through the mirror.

"I inherited the mansion up this road. My grandparents left it to me in their will and I have been looking for a more secluded place surrounded by nature. It may help me work more productively and it's peaceful up here. I have a greater chance of finding what I'm looking for here too." I explained.

The driver kept glancing back and forth between me and the road. "So, you're their granddaughter, Anise Devane. They talked about you fondly whenever we met in the town festivals. I'm so sorry about your grandparents. What are you looking for exactly?"

I returned my attention back to the trees. "A plot of land to grow herbs and plants. And to grow as a person myself." I answered as honestly as I could. I couldn't tell her that I was a witch and I was going to plant plants for my magical practices. We witches are a lot more free to practice than we were many years ago but it was still a little bit of a taboo topic to talk about with normal humans.

"Well, you'll definitely find peace and quiet up here. Welcome to Hazelview. Small town, small people and a whole lotta nature. You'll fit right in in no time." She chiperily described. "Here we are!"

I looked out the front windshield to see the small mansion my grandparents have left for me. The foliage was covering a majority of the grey shingles and the curtains in the window were drawn back. The steel gate would've looked menacing if it weren't for the flourishing vines wrapping all around the bars. I remembered this old house. So many memories. Even if the mansion was huge for one person alone and secluded in the woods, it still looked warm and welcoming.

The taxi driver pulled into the white gravel driveway and stopped the car. I got out and looked up at my new home. The driver opened the trunk and started to unload my luggage for me. "Here you go, sweetie. Hopefully, your moving truck will arrive before you run out of clothes to wear."

"Thank you so much. How much do I owe you?" I asked as I reached for my wallet in my back pocket.

"Nah, free of charge. You're one of us town folk now. If you ever need a lift, just give me a call. See ya later, neighbor." She declined, finished unloading the trunk and sped away before I could insist or even say thanks.

I grabbed my bags from the ground and began to drag them inside the house.I pushed the gate open with my shoulder and made my way to the large, oak door. I put my bag down on the porch and fished around my pocket for the key.

The door swung open slowly once I unlocked it, creating a loud squeaking noise. I made a mental note to fix that soon.

The house was a bit dusty and there was a lot of furniture that was left behind. The wood would need to be shined again and the walls would probably have to get a new coat of paint. The house was on the older side, dating back a good century or so. It's had a lot of work done since when it was first built. It was always known as the Devane house. Always have and always will be.

I went up one of the staircases that elegantly curved towards the wall. As I walked up, I could see all the old pictures that decorated the wall. There were old, antique pictures of my grandparents, the generations before them and the generations after. At the very top of the stairs I could see my moms at their wedding and a few more family photos including me.

I finished looking at the pictures and headed to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Upon opening the master bedroom, I noticed that the room was incredibly dusty. If I was going to sleep in the room for the night I would have to clean up a little and get some fresh air in.

I settled my luggage on the king sized bed and went to open the window. It took a bit of strength but I was eventually able to get it open. The room already started to feel a lot better. But if this one room was like this then the others must be in the same condition.

Instead of unpacking immediately and resting, I went downstairs to find the broom closet. I grabbed a clean rag and some polisher to start clearing away the dust. I traveled from room to room, opening windows and rubbing down the old furniture. To my surprise, a bunch of rooms were pretty decent. They weren't as dusty as I expected.

In fact, the bedrooms almost seemed recently lived in.

I shrugged it off, remembering that my grandparents would occasionally run a bed and breakfast out of their home for extra money. They must've cleaned the guest rooms last before they passed away. As my grandparents got older they began to sleep in smaller, separate beds. It would explain why the master bedroom was so bad.

I continued to make my way through the house, dusting and cleaning anything I could reach and opening windows to air out the house.

The house creaked slightly with each step and sometimes it did it by itself. I knew it was an old house but it almost sounded like someone else was living here still.

Again, it was probably just nothing. It didn't stop me from being a bit nervous though.

The entire house was mostly dust free and promised that I could rest easy tonight without suffocating. While I was cleaning the house I found my grandmother's Witch Room. She left a bunch of mason jars with herbs, plants that were slowly dying in their pots, and other materials scattered around like crystals and feathers and inks.

I went back to that room and looked through the scattered papers along the floors and shelves. They were all in Irish Gaelic with little English words scattered here and there. Old sketches flooded the papers as well.

I gathered them all up and stacked them on top of the wooden table. I promised myself to check them out later after I got settled into the house. It was getting late and I haven't eaten since the morning. I had to call my moms too to let them know I was safe.

Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I called up a pizza place to order something quick. I was told that my mushroom and bacon pizza will be ready and delivered in less than thirty minutes. After thanking the person who took my order, I sat down at the family dining table on the first floor to Facetime my moms.

It only took about two rings before they picked up. My mom's red, frizzy hair was in a sloppy bun and she was wearing a black tank top covered in dirt. She probably started cleaning the house as soon as I left. She tended to clean when she was stressed, nervous or worried.

Her cool, ocean blue eyes lit up through the screen as she saw that I was perfectly safe and managed to make it to the mansion. "Hi, Ani! Oh, Olivia! Honey, Anise is on the phone!"

I could hear my ma run towards mom, excited to finally see me after waiting for me to get here. Her face appeared next to mom's, almost pushing her out of view. Her walnut wood skin was covered in sweat and showed signs of being slightly sun-burnt. She was most likely working in the garden before I called. "Anise! Oh my gods you're alive!"

"Yeah, Ma. I didn't die on the way here. Thank you for worrying about me. Once I got here I cleaned up some of the dust and opened the windows to circulate the air." I joked and explained.

"My baby is growing up! I already miss seeing her freckles that are scattered across her nose and cute cheeks, Avery!" Ma exclaimed to Mom, talking about me like I wasn't listening.

Mom pushed her away so she could have some camera time. "Don't you think I'm gonna miss her asking me to help dye her hair dark purple? I miss our baby too, ya know! Anyways, Ani, make sure you call us whenever something goes wrong, okay? Your ma and I love you very much and we want to help you get used to living on your own."

"I'll send you some boxes of purple hair dye, herbs, books, and cookies every month, Ani. If you need anything else that you can't afford on your own just call us and we'll send it over." Ma continued, her smoky quartz eyes tearing up.

I gave a small giggle and smiled. "Got it, ma. I'll be fine. I'm nineteen for crying out loud! I can take care of myself so there's no need to worry."

Mom frowned. "Of course we're gonna worry! We're your moms!"

The doorbell suddenly rang and I hovered my finger over the hang up button. "My pizza is here. Gotta go! I'll call you guys when the moving truck and handyman gets here. Love you!"

"Love you too, sweetie! Enjoy your pizza." They said goodbye. I hung up and went to answer the door.

I paid for the pizza and tipped the delivery guy. As soon as they left I close the creaky door and headed to one of the living rooms to watch some television. My grandparents should've had Netflix on all of the televisions as an app since guests would've most likely requested some modern media.

Turning on the TV, I sat down on a dusty, pink rose couch and tried to enjoy my pizza and Earth documentary. Most people my age weren't really in to documentaries, but I personally found them fascinating. It was like reading a nonfiction book but much quicker and much more entertaining.

Due to me watching mainly documentaries, my brain is filled with all sorts of facts from science to history and anything in between. It definitely made high school a breeze for me. It also helped convince my moms to let me take online college classes instead of going to an actual college.

An hour later, the cities episode ended and my pizza was completely gone. I checked the time and saw that it was 7:00 pm. Like the responsible adult I was, I got up, cleaned my mess and went to get ready for bed.

I decided to inspect the master bathroom before stripping down and using it. It would've been terrible if I noticed mold or spiders while I was bathing. To my astonishment, the bathroom was perfectly polished and cleaned. The marble counter was clear and dust-free, the shower was sparkling as well as the freestanding, claw-foot tub and even the towels seemed fresh.

Perhaps my grandparents still preferred to use the master bathroom?

I grabbed my bath essentials and began to draw up a bath. While the tub filled up with warm water, I put some music on from my phone. The sound echoed through the massive bathroom, almost drowning out the sound of the running rush of water from the faucet.

With a little bit of bubbles, some candles and crystals and some rose petals that I packed with me, I was ready to relax.

I slid right in and adored the quiet time I was able to have. There weren't a lot of opportunities to relax like this back when I lived with my moms. But now I was able to take a bath like this whenever I wished.

Just as I poured some lavender shampoo into my hand, there was a loud creak and footsteps from outside the bathroom door.

My heart sped up, my breathing stopped and I froze. There was no way that that was just the wind or the house settling. Unless I was going crazy, that was a stranger.

I stopped the music on my phone and sat in the bath in silence. I wasn't a particularly brave person so taking the time to muster up some courage to see if there was an intruder was necessary for me. With a few deep breaths and a reassuring nod to myself, I got up and grabbed a towel to cover myself with and began to check out the noise.

I opened the door very slowly and peered out. It didn't seem like anyone was in the bedroom and there was no evidence that anything was tampered with. I opened the door wider and noticed something on the wooden floor in front of me.

Bending over, I picked it up and held it in my hands. It was brown fur.

It suddenly hit me. During the few times I visited my grandparents I noticed that a few stray cats would occasionally roam around the property. Most of the windows from when I opened them up were still open. One of the cats must've found their way in and began to explore the mansion.

It was possible that the cat stepped in a particularly creaking spot in the floor and scared itself, causing it to run away. I knew that I would get freaked out if I heard a foreign sound seemingly coming from nowhere.

Hopefully, the cat would find its way outside without me intervening. The last thing I would want is to scare the poor thing with my presence.

I shrugged and went back to my bath. I wasn't able to enjoy it like I first did but it was still kinda pleasant. My time bathing was over within several minutes and I drained the tub. The only thing I packed as pajamas was an over-sized shirt that said "Inconceivable!"

Within a few minutes, my teeth were brushed and my purple hair was let loose from being in a tight bun all day. I changed the sheets on my bed with fresh ones I found from a linen closet. I made sure that all the windows were closed and all of the doors were locked before getting into bed.

Man, I was so tired. It's been a long day and I still had a long list of things to do. The moving guys and handyman were supposed to show up sometime tomorrow, I had to do some grocery shopping and budgeting, clean some more of the mansion and more.

It was best to get some sleep and be ready for all of that in the morning.

I rolled on to my side to find a more comfortable sleeping position and shut my eyes. Before I could fall asleep, I could feel the bed dip from extra weight and a body hovering over me. I snapped my eyes open and looked up to see a strange man with deep red eyes and white fangs inches away from my face. I couldn't help but scream.

"AHH!"

#creative writing #novel #romance #be prepared for there are gonna be 9 more chapters. . .#writeblr #reverse harem

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bainelland · 6 years ago

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In A Kingdom By The Sea

A/N: It took me embarrassingly long to write this one, so please enjoy it. Comments and kudos make my miserable life a bit better!

Read it on AO3

Part One

Some people believe, that humans can live forever. No, not like that. No living creature is immortal, I’m afraid, though I’ve been living this life with the illusion of being immortal myself, for the longest of times. Believe me, it was a relief to discover I’m not. But people can live multiple lives, indeed, and humanity even came up with the appropriate term for this phenomenon. Reincarnation. I know, I know. Some people don’t believe it. And I’m sure, you don’t believe it either, after all, I know you a little. It’s not a part of your religion. But in my opinion, reincarnation is not a part of any religion. It’s just a natural thing that happens. People die and are reborn in a different body, in a different time, in a different place. It's a tale as old as time. I see, that you are skeptical about it. But I, myself, do believe, and I have a very strong reason to believe it. Why is that, you ask? Well, because I experienced it many, many, many times.

It sounds ridiculous, I know. You may laugh. You may think I’m crazy. But as a witch, yourself, you should know, that there are things in this world, that can’t be explained with logic. Witches live longer than mortals. They can live for hundreds of years, but of course, you know that. Look at your relatives; how old are they? Where’s the logic in that? No human should be allowed to live for so long. I, being who I am in this life, live even longer than that. Hence my confusion about being immortal. But as I said, no living creature on this planet is immortal. Everyone and everything dies, eventually. I’ve seen it times and times again.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, to be honest with you, I’m not entirely sure. We’re here, we’re both bored, so why not, right? You may also be wondering, why you, specifically? Why would I tell you something so personal? And the answer to those particular questions is quite simple. You were there for a significant part of the story. You know those people and you know most of the events that took place. To be honest, some part of the story had started just because of you. Don’t make that face, I’m not accusing you of anything, my dear. I’m grateful, in fact. If it wasn’t for you, I might be still wandering the Earth, searching for her for eternity.

Though you know bits and pieces of the story I’m about to tell you, still, you don’t know even half of the truth. And that’s why I’ve decided it’s about time you hear it all. So sit comfortably, and let me tell you everything.

This story had started a very long time ago. Way before you were born. Thousands of years ago, to be quite frank. I have lived a thousand lives; ‘Thousand’ is a figure of speech here, I’m not sure how many lives, exactly, but let’s say that enough.

As I already told you, reincarnation is real and I have experienced it many times. I remember my first life. I don’t know if I have lived a different life before that one, but I don’t recall anything before it, so for the sake of the story, let’s assume that it was my first one.

It was also the very first time I had met her.

I know you’re familiar with the term ‘soulmate’. One person, created specifically, for another person. Two halves of the same apple. A person, without whom you are not complete. There are too many different definitions of this word for me, to mention all of them. But you heard of it, I’m sure. And that’s exactly who she was to me. And who I was to her. We were meant for each other, as stupid as it sounds.

We had found each other, time and time again. In every life. At different stages in life. But we had found each other. Always.

Although I have never met anyone who would ever talk about experiencing anything similar, I'm sure there are others like us. After all, the idea of reincarnation and soulmates had to start somewhere. And I'm sure there are people who remember their past lives. I don't know if they remember all of them, but a few, for sure. As I have mentioned already, I remember every life I have ever lived. Every moment I have spent with her.

And the first time I have ever laid my eyes on [...]

***

It was a very hot summer, indeed. One of the hottest days he had ever experienced in his eighteen years of life on this planet. He sat on the grass, in the shade of a large oak tree, his back against its trunk, a poetry book in his hands. Despite the shade provided by the tree, and the light breeze roaming the garden, he was still sweating in his button-up cotton shirt.

The sun, high in the sky, was merciless to every living being. And yet, he did not find it unpleasant. It was quite the opposite. He had found the beauty in the garden, bathed in the sun. In the sunlight shimmering through the treetops. In the sound of buzzing bees in the background. In the birds chirping happily, sitting on the tree branches above his head. In the sound of the trickling water coming from many fountains placed around the garden. The ever-present beauty was enough to take his mind off the fact that it was so unbearably hot.

His eyes wandered around, leaving his poetry book forgotten in his hands. Even though, he knew that he was not alone in the garden, it was really easy to fall under such an illusion. The tree under which he decided to sit that day, was secluded enough to give him the impression he was all alone in this magical green world.

But there were always people walking around the green pathways. Some of them were workers; gardeners or handymen. The rest were either his father’s guests that seemed to never leave the mansion or the town’s citizens. Though, the latter did not come for walks around the garden very often. At least not since...

He looked around. He knew everything about this place. He knew every tree, every bush, every flower. Every bench, every fountain, every lantern. He knew how many lanterns there are, how many fountains. He knew that every fountain had something unique about it. He knew exactly how the statue of the cupid in the east wing of the garden has lost its arrow. He still has that scar above his left knee. He knew why it’s best not to sit on the swing right beside the entrance to the garden. And why there is a marble statue of a smiling woman, hidden right between those weeping willows in the west wing, so different from other statues that were made out of plain stone. Why his father comes there every night at sunset. And why he always leaves a single white rose right beside it.

He knew all this because the garden was a part of the mansion he had lived in his whole life.

His mother had always loved this place. She would come to the garden for walks with his father and they would talk, laugh and make love under those weeping willows. That’s why there’s this marble statue. The woman made out of marble was his mother. It’s her statue.

His father had ordered every gardener to tend to the garden every day. He has always loved his mother very much, more than he had ever loved him. Even after her death.

He took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to his poetry book. He had always loved poetry. His mother would read her favorite poems to him. It has always calmed him down. Her tone, the melody of her words. Even though he was too young at the time to understand the meaning of the words she was reading, he could not get enough of it. And now when he was older, he had finally understood.

Oh, to feel all these things those great poets were feeling. To love so fully and unconditionally. To feel their pain of being filled with such overwhelming emotions that you feared they might spill out of you. Oh, what would he give to experience even a small part of those things?

He thought about Edgar Allan Poe. An American man. The man who wrote one of his favorite poems, ‘Annabel Lee’.

And he thought about said poem. What would it be like to love so strongly that not even death was going to stop it? He longed for a love so strong that even angels were envious of it. To be so beautifully ignorant to think no-one has ever experienced such feelings before.

Was this how his parents had felt? His father loved his mother even after her death. He came to her statue every night. Was this it? Has his father, the coldest man he had ever met, found what he, himself, has been longing for?

He thought about Annabel Lee, whoever she was.

To have an Annabel Lee in his own life. To have this one person that he could love and receive the same feeling back. To be blind to other people and have only her on his mind…

He was brutally brought back to reality from his thoughts by a female voice. It was humming some song unknown to him. He looked around, but there was no-one in sight. He frowned. Where was this sound coming from?

But the mystery was quickly resolved when a girl came into his line of view. The most beautiful girl… No, not beautiful. Such a mundane word did not cover her breathtaking presence. There wasn’t a word in any language he knew to describe her beauty. Her face, her fair skin, her long, reddish hair… She carried herself with grace and pride… Who was she?

He forgot he had to breathe. So he gulped air into his lungs as if he was drowning and was desperately trying to stay alive. And the girl was still there. She was still strolling through the garden right next to him. She also had a book in her delicate hands.

The girl had apparently felt someone watching her because… Oh, dear. She looked right at him. And he became painfully aware of how sweaty he is. Of the way, his damp shirt is clinging to his back. He could feel his cheeks getting red. Her eyes twinkled when she smiled, just the most delicate smile he had ever seen. She had smiled at him! And he felt his heart thumping in his chest, trying to get out and run into the girl’s arms.

And… Oh, Lord. She took a seat right there. There, on a bench opposite him.

***

[...] Did we ever talk about our past lives? We did. But it wasn’t until this life. This right here, in which you know me. I remember every second of that first talk. It was right after I had decided that it was about time to take my own life into my own hands. Before that, we did not acknowledge our past. Not ever. I don’t know why, to be honest. Maybe it was because we were both scared that it was all in our heads. That we were only imagining the whole situation. Maybe we were scared that the other person will think we’re insane. Or maybe it was because of something else, I don’t know. Sometimes I have left little hints to test the waters. Sometimes I was under the impression that she was leaving hints too. We were too stupid to address the subject properly though. But we did talk about it, eventually.

But let us not get sidetracked. Back to our story.

After that time I had seen the most beautiful girl I have ever met, in my father’s garden, I forgot how to function as a human. I did not speak to her that day, I’m afraid. I just kept on sitting under that oak tree, watching her while she was reading her book on the bench. We exchanged a few more glances. She smiled at me a few more times, taking my breath away each time.

And that was it.

A maiden had come to tell me that my father was expecting me in his study. And so, sadly, I had to move from my place under the tree. My father did not tolerate lateness, you see. He did not tolerate a lot of things when it came down to me, actually.

But because, as I’m sure you have noticed by now, I was a hopeless romantic back then - still am, but secretly, so don’t tell anyone or I will have to kill you - I came under that very same oak tree the next day, hoping against all odds, that the girl who took over my mind so quickly would show up again.

She hasn’t.

Disappointing, isn’t it?

I came under that same oak tree every day for a week.

Every day, I woke up and I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Perhaps, she’ll show up today? Maybe I’ll go to the garden, find that bench, and she’ll be there? Or she’ll come by, later?

I would go, sit under that unfortunate tree, and pretend I was reading my book for hours on end. Waiting. Hoping I could see her just one more time. Just for a second.

It was like a loop, and I couldn’t do anything to escape it. My emotions seemed to find a pattern to follow. Anxiety, anticipation, excitement, anxiety again, and finally disappointment. The next day everything had started all over again.. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day… You know what I mean. It lasted a whole week. Oh, the pain it had caused me. Every day I went back to that damned tree and every day she wasn’t there.

Until she was.

The seventh day came around. I’m not gonna lie, I was discouraged by then. There was very little hope left in me. Yet, I went to the garden ‘one last time’, as I kept telling myself.

Oh, you have no idea how happy - and shocked - I was to see her reading while sitting on that very same bench as the last time [...]

***

One could say that the weather was perfect that day. Not one cloud in the sky. Sun shining brightly. Birds chirping happily, bees buzzing without any care in the world, lazy breath of wind going around the garden, and that one specific scent of fresh air lingering in his nostrils, warm rays of sun caressing his skin. A perfect summer day.

And yet chills were running up and down his spine, his back covered in cold sweat, breath caught up in his throat.

He stood there, rooted to the spot.

Was he dreaming?

Was this a hallucination?

Perhaps, he was feverish?

Confusion and happiness made him dizzy. Or maybe it was because of lack of sleep? After six full days of pointless hoping, thinking, sleepless nights, and coming back to the same spot… She was there. Sitting on the same bench as the last time, surrounded by the beautiful scenery taken out straight from a landscape painting.

And he stood there - stood there like a fool! - staring at her as if expecting her to disappear by the first time he’d dare to blink. As if he was certain that she was but a figment of his overheated imagination.

He looked at her, his eyes roaming her figure, noticing every little thing. The way her hair fell down her back. How the sun was reflecting in her reddish hair. How her dress hugged her body. How she bent a little over her book in her lap. How she crossed her ankles elegantly. How her eyelashes fluttered every time she blinked.

All of a sudden her eyes were on him and he felt trapped.

He had no idea what to do with himself. Should he turn around and flee? No, that was a stupid idea, even though a very tempting one. Perhaps he should say something? But what should he say? What should he do? Wha… But, before he could do anything, she spoke.

“You're late,” she said, and he felt dumbfounded. What did she mean? Was she waiting for him?

“I'm-I’m sorry?”

“Yes, you should be,” there was a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth.

“I…” he started, not knowing where exactly was he going with that sentence, too distracted by her smile, but she interrupted him.

“It's rude to keep a lady waiting, didn't you know?” So, she was waiting for him? But how was he supposed to know that? If he had known, he would run to her as fast as he could.

“I wasn't aware…”

“Well, that explains everything, doesn’t it?” She laughed, raising her eyebrow, and at that moment it had dawned on him - she was making fun of him. He could feel the warmth of a blush spreading on his neck and pale cheeks. He stood in the same spot, not knowing what he should do. She was watching him, and he wanted to say something, but before he could even open his mouth, she spoke again.

“Why don't you sit with me?” She pointed with her head towards the oak tree. “That patch of grass over there doesn't seem very comfortable.”

She scooted over to make him some room and looked at him expectantly.

His body moved on its own accord. One foot after the other, and he hadn’t even had time to start to panic; his mind was completely blank. And in the next second, he was right next to her. She gave him a pleased smile and turned her head towards her book.

Her face was even more beautiful from up close. He noticed that her nose was marked with a few freckles. Her skin was glowing in the sun. And her hair looked so soft. He felt the urge to run his fingers through it.

He blinked a few times. How long had they been sitting like that in silence?

He’s been staring again.

Why couldn’t he tear his eyes away from her? She probably thought he was being weird.

He should say something. Start a conversation with her. He wanted to hear her voice again, to hear that beautiful, melodic sound. So he thought hard about things he could say, but all his mind was providing him with were synonyms of the word ‘beautiful’. He opened his mouth, not knowing what he wanted to say, and all that came out was:

“My name is…” He wasn’t even surprised when she had interrupted him, yet again.

“Oh, I know exactly what your name is.” She said, without looking up from her book. “This town isn't that big, after all, and your father is the most influential person around here.”

She was right, of course. Every man, woman, and child in town knew his father’s name. He was the mayor, after all.

Silence fell upon them once more. He sat there, at a loss of what to do. He wanted to talk to her so badly. He was imagining this moment for the whole week. Every time he dreamt of the day he would finally speak to her they were talking, laughing, telling each other secrets, and their heart’s desires. Never had it occurred to him that he would become a sweating, stuttering mess in her presence.

“I still don't know your name.” He said, breaking the silence once more. That was the only thing that came to his useless mind.

“No, you don't,” she said, simply, not even bothering to look up from her book. He felt frustrated. Was she being difficult on purpose? A tinge of anger started to rise in his belly.

“Aren't you going to introduce yourself, ma'am?” He asked, a little bit too harshly, but she was being so difficult to talk to that he couldn’t help himself. “For someone so focused on the rudeness of others, you're being quite rude yourself right now.”

“Am I? How so?” she asked, finally looking up at him. Right now, he wished she hadn’t had done that because he got distracted with her eyes. They were a light shade of a color that was hard to name at a first glance. Green, perhaps. Some might say her eyes were almost greyish.

“You're refusing to introduce yourself and…”

“That's not true,” the woman interrupted him, “You haven't asked me properly.”

“ And you're interrupting me all the time,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. The corners of her mouth turned slightly upward.

“That's fair,” she said, turning her eyes back to her book.

“Aren't you going to apologize?”

“Aren't you going to ask for my name?”

“What's your name?” He asked immediately. She pursed her lips, trying - and failing - to hide her smile.

“Rose.”

“Victor.” They shook hands. She had a really soft and warm hand, and it fitted so nicely against his own.

“I apologize for interrupting you, Victor,” she said, “May I have my hand back?”

He looked down and came to the realization that he was still holding her hand in his own. He let go immediately, trying his best not to blush, but he could tell by her smirk, that he was red in the face.

She returned to reading her book and he was trying his best not to stare at her. He looked at the tree in front of the bench. The very same tree he had been sitting under for the past six days. And he thought about how he spent those days, hoping he would see her again and how now she was right there beside him. It made him think about what she said when she saw him, ‘you’re late’. Was she waiting for him? Why did she say that?

“Why?” he asked out loud, following his own train of thoughts.

“What was that?” she looked up from his book again, her brows knitted together.

“Why did you say I was late?” he clarified.

“I don’t know. You stood there and seemed a little bit overwhelmed by seeing me, so I thought why not to engage in a pleasant conversation?”

“Shall we start the ‘pleasant conversation’ now or...?” his voice was dripping with sarcasm. The corners of her mouth twitched and she turned her eyes back to the book in her lap.

He desperately wanted her full attention back for himself. He tried to come up with something to say. Ask a question she would have no choice but to answer.

“So, why are you here?”

“It’s nice weather, I fancied sitting on a bench with my book,” she said without looking up at him, “And I’m waiting for my fiancé.”

“Your fiancé?” He felt as if she had slapped him across the face.

A fiancé. She was engaged. His mind was racing. Of course, she was engaged. A woman like that couldn’t possibly be … He did not want to think about that. He pushed those thoughts away from himself. Instead of dwelling on that little piece of information, he tried to focus on something else. His eyes fell on the book in her lap that she had been so focused on.

“What are you reading?”

“A novel.”

“What about?” He tried really hard not to grit his teeth. Why was it, that she had to be so difficult to talk to?

“Love at first sight. Rather dreadful, really,” she said with a deep sigh.

“Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

“I don’t believe in love,” she clarified.

“Yet you’re engaged. How does that work?” She sighed again and rolled her eyes closing her book and turning to fully face him. It was clear to him that he was annoying her and he couldn’t help but grin.

“What were you reading?” Rose asked, changing the subject, all of a sudden. She pointed to the oak tree with her head. “Last week, under that tree over there?”

“Poetry,” he replied immediately.

“Do you like poetry?”

“I do,” Victor nodded.

“And do you believe in everything those poets write about?” He did not expect that question.

“I…,” but she didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence.

“How can we believe in the existence of things we’ve never experienced before? These are just books. Not reality.”

“Have you never been in love then?” Victor felt confused. How could she be engaged if she did not love her partner? “Don’t you love your fiancé?”

“I am…,” she hesitated, “fond of him.”

“You’re fond of him?” Victor chuckled and couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “He must be thrilled. Such heated emotion just for him.”

“What about you?” she shot him an annoyed look. “Don’t you have someone to be fond of?”

“Not really, no.”

She looked at him. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable, being watched so closely by her green eyes. Weird, he wanted her attention so badly when she was not paying any, and now, when she was watching him, he wished she wasn’t. It felt as if she was looking for something in his face. Victor had no idea what was she looking for, or if she found it or not, but after what felt like an eternity, she looked away.

“Consider yourself lucky then.” He thought he could hear the bitterness in her voice.

“Why?”

“Because this engagement is more of a business arrangement,” she said, “There are no ‘heated emotions’, as you had called them,” she looked at him again, sending him a small smile, “I don’t recommend marriage out of necessity to anyone.”

“Why is it a…” But at that precise moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tall man standing a few meters away from them. He was handsome, Victor could tell. Dark hair, mustache, sharp cheekbones, and a strong jaw. Wearing a three-piece suit. He was watching them.

Rose followed Victor’s eyes and froze for a second.

“My darling,” the man said, looking at Rose, as if expecting her, to run to him immediately. There was no warmth in his eyes.

The girl turned back to look at him. He didn’t like the look on her face. There was something… He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had the impression that she grew sad all of a sudden.

She sent him a small smile and said quietly,

“I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

***

[...] and left.

The next life we met… What? You want to know what happened in that one? Well, uhh... Okay, okay. I wanted to spare you the unpleasant parts of the story, but since you’re insisting, I suppose… Alright.

I know, I told you we had had always found each other, and I’m not saying that that was a lie - we did - but I suppose you’ve been imagining there was always a happy ending for every story. I’m sorry for misleading you.

So, as you already know, she was engaged. A ‘business arrangement’, as she had called it, a ‘necessity’. I did not understand what she had meant. It seemed bizarre to me that a marriage could be an arrangement…

“I’m sure we’ll meet again,” she said. And we have met again, indeed.

It wasn’t until two weeks after that lovely, hot summer day, when I saw her sitting on a bench in my father’s garden, that we met again.

Again in the same spot, sitting on a bench. We talked, laughed, bickered. And we made quite a habit of those meetings. We grew to like each other. We became friends and after some time… Lovers.

It all happened so suddenly.

One second we were laughing about one thing or another and the next thing I knew she was kissing me. And before I knew what exactly was happening we were under the weeping willows. We made love hidden from the whole world. And it was glorious. Oh, so glorious...

“Ew! Gross. Remember, we’re still talking about my aunt.”

Yes! Right. Sorry about that.

As I was saying, we turned into lovers. It had lasted some time, but as I already told you, there’s no happy ending for this story. It can be a happy beginning or a happy middle but an ending is never happy. A story with a happy ending is a story that’s not finished yet.

We did not live happily ever after.

In fact, that was the first time she broke my heart.

It wasn’t the last time, either.

You already know, she was engaged. And the fact that she was having an affair with me did not change that. It was all fun and games for some time, but when her fiancé found out about us… He was furious, to say the least. I will spare you the unpleasant details of his anger. How he - forgive me the foul language - beat the shit out of her. How he had sent his chums to deal with me.

It all ended up with Howard - because that was the name of her fiancé - moving out to who knows where taking Rose with him. The heartbreaking part of it all is, she had a choice. And she had chosen him. She told me that herself, the night before they left. After all, he had done to her.

As I said, she broke my heart.

But it’s not like I’ve never broken her heart, don't get me wrong. To be honest with you, I think I have done that a lot more, and far more cruelly, that she has. I have literally killed [...]

***

His problem wasn’t that he wasn’t happy with his life. He wasn’t - that much was true. But in his defense, no slave has ever been happy with their life. His problem was that he was looking at the man in front of him, and at the moment their eyes met for the first time, he knew. He did not know how exactly he knew. He just did. Images and something that could be only described as someone else’s memories were flooding his mind. But those were his own memories, he was certain. Only everything was different.

Different time.

Different person.

Different life.

It had to be. Because in this life he was a slave; a gladiator. He was sold as a young boy to go and train; to become a warrior who would entertain Ceasar and the people of Rome, with his own death. Fighting for his own life, killing both strangers and friends, who all wanted the same as he did. Freedom.

The only thing that was the same as the images in his head, were the eyes of the man standing in front of him. Those light, green eyes; eyes, that were looking at him with a mixture of confusion and understanding, at the same time.

Suddenly everything became too much for him. The unforgiving sun, trying to fry them alive. All of the faces of the crowd around them became blurred. Their screams became one collective noise that buzzed at the back of his head. All that mattered at that moment was that he was standing in front of a man. A man who, at the moment, looked like struck by lightning. He was sure he had the same look on his own face. How could it be? Was it possible that they had met before? In a different life?

Unfortunately, it wasn’t time to think about it.

He couldn’t breathe.

He took one, two steps forward.

It was almost over in less than a few minutes, even though to him it felt like hours. His sword, his hands, and his body were now covered with sweat, blood, and gore. The man’s and his own.

He was trembling, though he hadn’t had realized that at first. His hold on his sword slackened. Only when he looked at the man, now kneeling in front of him, had he seen the reflection of his own exhaustion, agonizing pain, and misery, in the man’s bloody face.

The crowd was chanting, but he couldn’t understand. His senses were dulled by the pain of his own injuries and his broken heart.

He looked up, his eyes fixed upon a man standing at the center of the loge seating, amongst the rest of the aristocracy. He waited, heart, thumping loudly in his ears. He waited for Ceasar to give him a sign. And he got it. The man in a white toga held up his right hand and turned it with his thumb pointing downwards.

His heart sank.

He looked at the other man at his feet; looked into those green eyes; the man nodded slightly as if to encourage him; as if he had already agreed with his fate.

“Do it,” the man whispered, and his voice almost got lost in the noise surrounding them.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, barely audible for the other man to hear.

Life has a way to laugh into people’s faces, he mused, as he tightened his grip on the sword.

***

[...] It was not the last time I had her blood on my hands. Fate has a foul sense of humor, let me tell you. It brought us together times and times again, only to tear us apart, one way or another. We were gladiators in that life in Rome, a Jew and a Nazi in another life in Poland, two knights in a different life in England… I won’t tell you about every single life we had, because that would take us forever.

I lived a thousand lives. Yet, I haven’t lived a more bizarre one than the one I’m living in now.

Lilith. That’s my name.

The first woman. The first witch.

On the sixth day of the creation of everything, I was brought up to life alongside my husband, Adam, by the False God. We were created with the same clay, created to be equal. We were to watch over the Earth, look after every living creature in the Garden. We were to live happily. And to some degree, we did. But as time passed… I’m sure you know at least tidbits of the story. You know that happiness and equality are not a part of this particular tale.

The False God wants people to believe it was a woman who committed the first sin, by eating the Forbidden Fruit. While it is true that it was Eve who took the apple first, it's not true that it was the first sin.

It was a man who committed the original sin. On the woman’s body. He took forcefully what I wouldn’t give willingly.

And I ran.

Away from Adam, away from the Garden, away from the False God.

All alone, deep in despair, self-pity, and pain, roaming the land beyond the walls of Paradise. I’m not sure how long it had lasted. How long have I been walking around the desert, like a child in the dark? Months, it could be years, really.

And then I met Him.

A fallen angel.

Lucifer.

We were both outcasts. And suddenly I wasn’t roaming the world alone, for He was by my side.

He was… Tender. Kind. Sweet, at first. He promised me He would make me His queen in exchange for my servitude. I agreed. Why wouldn’t I? It was a small price to pay for what he was offering, after all.

And the very first thing he asked of me [...]

#madam spellman #caos #fanfic #i'm a writer now lol #it took me too long to write this goddamnit #and it's so freakishly long i'm sorry

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