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someguynamedstevewrites · 5 years ago

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My Roommate is an Apparition: WHAT A HORRIBLE NIGHT TO HAVE A DAD - Part 2

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

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Oh man, am I late on posting this. So many things going on. Not to mention figuring out how to follow up the first part.

It seems people really like the first-person narration from “A-Pink-Ciation of Culture”, so I went with that again with this piece.

Almost DAILY, I get likes or re-blogs and the occasional follower despite not having posted anything since March. I’m very curious and would like to hear from you readers about what you like about my writing and what appeals to you. Eventually, I want to make a living off of writing, but until that time, I definitely could use any and all feedback.

Anyway, now that that’s out of the way, on with the story!

From the Diary of Lily, March 1st, 2020:

Okay, diary, I’m coming to you because I honestly have no idea where else to go to try and sort through the evening I just had with my Dad and Tulpa. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about tonight just... bothers me! It’s like I’m on pins and needles and can’t stop thinking about, well, a LOT of stuff. Just... hear me out and maybe it’ll make sense if I put this all down on paper (I.E. You). I just spent the last twenty minutes trying to talk things through out loud, but that got me nowhere so here goes nothing:

First off, my Dad came to visit a week earlier than what I had planned, and immediately sets up shop in my living room with his NES and copy of Castlevania III. Only problem was I hadn’t talked with Tulpa about his visit since I was expecting him until NEXT weekend. I kept thinking that the last thing I wanted was for anything weird to happen during his visit.

Which, looking back on it, was a really stupid thing to worry about.

I mean, Dad’s a pretty open-minded guy and he’s quite weird himself. He’s actually quite proud of his weirdness (embarrassing as it is sometimes). He tends to under-react to all kinds of things like it’s no big deal. I’ve even asked him why he doesn’t freak out about some of the stuff he comes across in real life or on TV, and he just tells me, “I’ve seen weirder.” (If some of the stories he’s told me are true, then he has. He really, REALLY has!)

For example: if Tulpa had come into the room holding a... I dunno, a plate or something, like would that really freak my Dad out? Pfft, No! He (maybe?) wouldn’t see her, all he’d see was a “flying saucer” (he deliberately would make that lame pun too), and then get back to his game. Then later, he’d try and tell me about the real flying saucers he saw years ago, or something.

Since I had assumed that Dad wouldn’t have been able to see her, it eventually clicked in my head that what I was actually worrying about was, “what would Tulpa think of my Dad?” He’s a huge Goofus that likes to make bad jokes, tell tall tales, and play video games! And even if he did weird her out, it’s not like she could go anywhere... right? I mean, she might avoid interacting with me because of him, but...

Oh...

Oh wow...

I just read what I just wrote and I can not believe I was being THAT irrational! ( Man, people are stupid sometimes; me included!)

Avoid me because of my DAD!? That’s gotta be the dumbest thing I’ve ever thought! It’s not like he LIVES here or anything! He’s not the one paying the rent; I am! And... I’ve gotten to know Tulpa pretty well these past few months, but... I guess I still have a lot more to learn about her. Case in point:

————————————-

So Tulpa tells me that she wants to meet my Dad, and after coming to my senses somewhat, I say she can sit in so long as she doesn’t touch anything (see flying saucer explanation above). A few minutes later, she walks in looking like the tall girl from Keep Your Hands off Eizouken (I had to look the name up; I couldn’t remember it for the life of me). By that I mean, she’s coming in as a tall, lanky, skinny, somewhat pale skinned girl looking to be about my age. She’s wearing some modest clothes and, if I’m being honest with myself, they looked kind of cute in that outfit they had on. It was a nice ensemble.

Then Dad says “Hi” to her.

...

Let me repeat that in case it hasn’t clicked with you yet.

My Dad GREETED her!

He! SAW! Her!

When I asked her about it later, she said to me that she thought that since he’s my Dad, then whatever it is that allows me to see her could be something my Dad has too. So far, her theory has been proven right, but... I’m not one-hundred percent sure, because Tulpa... well... she changed.

And I’m being literal here, too! She no longer had that transparency to her like usual. She had a nose! She had ears! She had five fingers! And she looked...

...well...

...good.

Tulpa said she had never tried doing this before, but figured that in the off-chance that her hunch was correct, she wanted to make a good impression on my Dad. (Why do I keep thinking about that old joke in movies and TV shows about the overprotective Dad that threatens the boy about to go on a date with their daughter?) She even went so far as to create her own “clothes”, saying she knew they’d be important. Considering that she doesn’t wear (or need) clothes any other time, I ask her how she came to that conclusion. I still have no idea what she meant when she suddenly bellowed out, “GOOD...! GRIEF...! HE’S...! NAKED!”

[Edit: It’s from Spongebob, because of course it was.]

So I’m not sure if Dad could see her because she purposely made herself opaque, or if he would have been able to see her if she wasn’t in her human “disguise” (and yes, I’m calling it a disguise and I’ll explain why a bit later, okay?). But either way, she walks in and my Dad just starts chatting away like so:

————————————-

“Hi there! You must be Lily’s roommate!” says Dad.

At this point, I’m kind of frozen solid on the couch, just watching and listening as everything unfolds in front of me like it’s being burned into my retinas. You know that saying about slow-motion train wrecks? Y’know, about how you can’t look away from them? This is probably why I remember the conversation so well.

“Heh...Hello,” she responds back nervously.

“I’m Lily’s Dad,” he says as if it wasn’t obvious, “Hope you don’t mind if we play some games out here.”

Tulpa shakes her head and stutters out, “No...N-not at all.”

“Great!” Dad responded with a smile that said, “Even if it was bothering you, I’m still going to take up the TV and play video games. So nyeh!” I’ve lived with him long enough to know that he’s not someone who would give up the TV without a fight.

(...gee... that kind of reminds me of someone now that I think about it...)

Tulpa then asks, “M-mind if... I watch?”

Dad gives her this big, goofy smile and responds with a, “Sure thing!” since despite him never admitting to it, he always liked having an audience around when he played games (or almost anything really) in hopes of “schooling” them. (Why he didn’t go into teaching, I will never understand.)

As soon as Dad turns back to his game and un-pauses it, Tulpa smiled, sat back, and looked content (Although it was a little weird seeing her smile with a nose to go along with it.) This snaps me out of my stupor long enough to scootch over to Tulpa and chat with her.

“You actually want to watch him play?” I ask her once more because the mere thought that she’d be interested in something outside of cartoons still hadn’t registered in my head, yet.

“Yeah...” she says as she starts to stare at the screen like she usually does during her cartoon time. “...sounded... familiar,” she said before looking up slightly while lost in thought, “...Simon... Belmont... Mega... Man... Kid... Icarus...” she said again as though that meant something. To me it just sounded almost like some kind of madness mantra, but...

“Oh! You mean Captain N: The Game Master!” my Dad chimed in out of seemingly nowhere.

“YES!” Tulpa said with excitement (worth noting that she doesn’t look excited very often, but when she does, she practically glows). “I remember...” she said before pausing to collect her thoughts and form the words she wanted to say. If I could have, I would have warned her about my Dad’s tendency to pounce on any hesitation in a conversation to take it over.

“Man, I haven’t seen Captain N in decades,” he said wistfully, “Surprised someone young as you remembers it. I was in High School when that show came on! When did you see it?”

“Ummm...” she hesitated, “...reruns... when I was... a kid.”

(As I’m writing this down now, I realize she was trying to hide her actual age from Dad. She looked to be in her early twenty’s like I was, but if she said she saw it when it came on the air originally, that’d make her over thirty years old at least.)

“Ahhhh! I see you have good taste in reruns!” Dad complimented.

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered back. As I listened to the awkward conversation of father-roommate bonding, I found my eyes constantly turning towards Tulpa. Not out of adoration or anything, but more like... studying her.

————————————-

On the one hand, she looked like the Tulpa that I had known ever since she became my roommate months ago. But on the other hand, they somehow weren’t. It’s kind of like when someone changes their looks a bit for maybe, I dunno, a night on the town, a job interview, a wedding, or something else along those lines. Only in her case, “dressing up” meant adding additional body parts she didn’t normally have.

(To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure what to think about that...)

I’ve always been a firm believer of people being themselves, and being allowed to be themselves. I can’t stand situations where people are unable to truly express themselves or feel comfortable. Way I see it, life is too short to be spent worrying over stupid stuff that makes people miserable just so they can come off as normal.

Sometimes it’s because of social norms and expectations; those unspoken rules of life that people are supposed to just magically “know”. Like if someone was going to a church or temple service, social norms say they need to wear their “Sunday Best” with stiff, itchy clothes that are dry clean only. If I was able to go to a sermon wearing a baggy college sweatshirt, sweatpants, and slippers, and NOT be judged like I’m some kind of crazy hobo, it would have definitely made something like that more appealing to me.

Now I have nothing against anyone that likes to dress up in fancy clothes and wear them out and about; I mean, everyone likes different things, right? The point is that if I’m going to do something that makes me uncomfortable, it should be because I wanted to do it for myself. I don’t think I should bend over backwards making myself feel bad (physically or mentally) for someone else’s sake. Sure, call me selfish if you must, but I just can’t advocate for doing something that makes you feel bad because you wanted someone else to feel good.

I’m just thankful no one in my family has ever tried to push anything on me. Sure, they’ve suggested things to me before, and of course made sure I didn’t do something stupid that would injure me or worse when I was too young to know better. But overall, my family has given me a lot of freedom to do what I want, dress how I want, and be who I want to be. Now that I think about it, I’m kind of lucky that way.

(I hope I’m making sense on this. Re-reading this, I’m not entirely sure if I do.)

————————————-

Anyway, I’m looking at Tulpa and watching them carefully, trying to figure out if they were comfortable looking like that or not. She’s just sitting there watching my Dad play Castlevania III, and he was now on the haunted pirate ship with Trevor and Sypha. He was breezing through at a pretty good pace and sharing an anecdote about how Warren Ellis figuratively gave him the “Turd Cape of Shame” on this old message board back when the Castlevania series on Netflix was just an idea back in 2007. (I still am not entirely sure if that story is true or not.)

“Hey Lily,” Dad asks suddenly out of the blue, “got anything to drink?” I offer him some lemonade, he accepts, and I go to the kitchen to pour him a glass. As I’m doing this, I hear Dad ask Tulpa, “By the way, I don’t think I caught your name. What was it again?”

“...Tulpa...” she says back to him.

My body freezes up for a moment as I realized that “Tulpa” is not an ordinary name. I mean the first time she told me her name, it sounded like some kind of Pokémon. Once again, that irrational fear of my Dad being weirded out or something enters my head, but is dispelled almost immediately.

“Tulpa?” my Dad says aloud to himself, “That’s a very interesting name.”

“T-Thank you...” she says back.

I walk in with a glass of pink lemonade and set it down on a little, folding TV dinner stand that was given to me when I first moved out for college. I slowly sit back down again as I keep an eye on Dad. His facial expression is the same as usual: relaxed. You could call it a poker face, but I’ve seen him play poker and he is BAD at poker.

“Anyone in your family Buddhist?” my Dad asks casually.

I step in, “Dad! What kind of a question is that!?” And I meant what I said too. Who even asks something like that!?

“I was just wondering,” he says before once again shutting up and focusing on his game.

This is one of the things about my Dad that bugs me to no end: he likes to be cagey sometimes. He’ll say something vague with the sole purpose of making the other person curious, confused, or both. It leaves, like, questions in the back of your head that just start gnawing at your brain and won’t stop chewing away at your gray matter until you finally ask him to explain what the heck he was talking about. He does this on purpose to “bait” people into asking him questions or to continue with what he’s saying. So annoying!

I sigh, “Why’s that, Dad?”

He gives a little smile and continues, “Oh it’s just that this isn’t the first time I’ve heard the name “Tulpa” before, that’s all.”

NOW he has my total undivided attention and Tulpa’s too as we both unconsciously lean forward. Practically in sync, we both say, “It’s not!?”

He’s still smiling as he says, “Nope. First time I heard that name was when I was doing some monster research for a Castlevania Wiki I had been working on a while back.”

Tulpa practically gulps, “M-M-Monster...?”

“Well not really a monster,” he says back, “more like... a supernaturally, artificially created person.”

(There are some times when my Dad can be down right spooky and creepy. This was one of those times.)

Full Metal Alchemist immediately pops into my head, and without even hesitating, I ask, “Like a Homunculus?”

“Nah, more like...” he says before pausing his game and turning to Tulpa and I, “...an imaginary friend.” Tulpa and I both tilt our heads in confusion. Dad picks up on this and by now, he is practically glowing at this opportunity to share some weird thing he just happens to know something about.

He explains, “So there’s this word in Tibetan called “Sprul-Pa” which means “Manifestation”, okay? And in early Buddhism, this is used as the explanation for how Gautama Buddha could travel to heavenly realms and come back again. You could say he created a clone of himself in the other realm and then transmitted his consciousness to it from his body on Earth. Kind of like a-”

By now, Tulpa and I were clearly on the same wavelength as she asks, “a Shadow Clone!?” at the exact same time I was thinking of it. Believe it!

Dad’s silent for a moment as he thinks to himself before finally going, “...uhhh... I guess... you could say that. I was thinking “Dream Body” but I suppose a shadow clone could work too.” My Dad used to watch Naruto with me on Toonami years ago, so he knew full well what a shadow clone was.

He turns to face us as he continues talking, “The thing with a Tulpa is that it’s something made from nothing. A Homunculus, using your example, Lily, requires having the materials necessary to make an artificial being on hand before you can create them. But a Tulpa is willed into existence out of nothingness. It is created from the thoughts of the creator; known as a “Thoughtform” in some cases.”

(WHEN did my Dad even learn this stuff!?)

“The difference between a Tulpa and an imaginary friend,” my Dad continued to say, “is that while an imaginary friend is just that, someone that exists in your imagination, a Tulpa is made when someone’s thoughts are so strong that they will their imaginary friend into existence.”

I look over at Tulpa, and she is totally absorbed in what my Dad’s saying.

“Now from what I’ve read...” Oh my God, Dad! What have you even been reading!? “...it’s very difficult for one person alone to have enough psychic power to will a sentient being into creation. But if you had enough people thinking the same thing, and thinking about it hard enough, then, hypothetically, a Tulpa could be created.”

“So what you’re saying is if enough people think Bigfoot is real, then they can actually make it real just by believing in them?” I snark.

“Yeah, pretty much,” my Dad replies without detecting my snark at all.

“Or like...” Tulpa chimes in, “...how Tinkerbell is saved... by believing in fairies and... clapping hands?” I was a bit surprised Tulpa knew that since I couldn’t recall Disney’s Peter Pan having that scene in it.

Dad thinks about it for a moment, and then goes, “Hmmmmm... yeah! That too, I suppose.”

Right about then, Dad gets a notification on his phone. He pulls it out, looks at it, gets a somewhat serious look on his face, and then stands up and says, “Hey, I gotta make a phone call real quick. Mind if I...” he trails off.

“Yeah, sure thing, Dad,” I say back. He heads down the hallway to the guest bedroom and closes the door as he makes his call. It’s now just Tulpa and me in the living room, and we were both feeling super awkward. I turn to Tulpa and say, “So... did you know anything about all that?”

Tulpa shook her head, “N-n-no. First time I... I ever heard of... of it.” I could tell she was feeling nervous. She had started stuttering pretty badly.

All this time, I knew Tulpa was an apparition, but I never thought about what kind of apparition she was. It never really dawned on me that an apparition could have an origin story. With Tulpa, she was just... kind of there for me, and I never really questioned it. Her being her somehow felt, I dunno... “natural”, I guess.

I never thought I really needed to learn more about Tulpa, anyway. I mean, outside of the occasional mischief, Tulpa was perfectly harmless. Worst thing she ever did was the Pinkening (still don’t know how she did that), but that was partly on me because I was being a big dummy. Overall, she’s always been friendly, kind, and fun to be around, and that‘s always been good enough for me.

“You, uh...” I start to say, “...want to talk about it later?” Tulpa looks ahead of her kind of blankly, and I immediately add, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, Tulpa, I just-“

“Talk about what?” She asks, now looking at me kind of confused.

“About...” I trail off as I try to find the right words, “...about what my Dad just said and about... I dunno... where you came from?”

Tulpa clearly hadn’t thought about it before. She leaned back against the couch and audibly sighed (I think that was the first time I ever heard them sigh!), before saying, “I... don’t know... Lily...”

“Don’t know where you came from, or don’t know if you want to talk about it?” I asked her.

She thought for a moment before saying, “Both...”

I wanted to say something more to her, maybe give them some kind of reassurance, but I just couldn’t as long as my Dad was here! The frustration of wanting to talk about something with someone, but not being able to because of other people being around, is just AGONIZING! If only Dad would hurry up and leave, but when he says he’s going to beat a video game, he’s going to beat a video game. Problem was he hadn’t even made it to Dracula’s Castle yet, so who knew how much longer it would be?

Then Dad comes back in and says, “Hey, sorry about this, but I need to get going.”

HAAAAAALLEJUAH!!!

“Oh sweet merciful powers that be, THANK YOU! “ I thought to myself. I was worried things were going to get all cringy like a bad self-insert fanfic. “Aww, that’s too bad,” I fibbed out of politeness. I mean, he’s my Dad and I love him and all, but... y’know...

“Yeah, I got a call from work and they need me to help out with something. ‘Fraid I have to cut my visit short, Lily.” My Dad powered off the Nintendo system and began packing it up. But then he suddenly stopped, looked up, then looked back at me and said, “Hey, you want to borrow my NES for a bit!?”

Dad suddenly leaving to take care of something for work happens every now and then, so that was no big surprise. But Dad suddenly saying he has to leave to take care of something and leave his NES in MY care!? THAT scared the pants off me!

“Oh my God, Dad... you’re not dying are you!?” I ask with a half-serious tone.

“What!? No! What gave you that idea!?” He shoots back.

“Because that’s the NES you’ve had ever since you were a kid! You have NEVER let anyone else look after it! EVER!” I remind him because it is one-hundred percent true.

His lame-sauce excuse was: “Hey, both of your uncles used to look after it!”

And then I remind him, “That’s because you all lived in the same house with grandma and grandpa! Y’know, because you were all kids and everything!”

“They still took care of it,” he pouts.

“Only after they sneaked into your room, de-hooked it, and snuck it over to their room! You know I’ve heard the stories at the family gatherings!, right?” This is all completely true.

————————————-

My Dad is the oldest of three, and at family gatherings, like around Thanksgiving, he and my uncles used to tell as many embarrassing stories about each other as possible like they were trying to one-up each other. Like, “Hey, remember that time you stuck a LEGO tire up your nose and had to go to the Emergency Room?”

And my uncle’s all like, “I WAS FOUR!”

Good times....

...now where was I?

Oh right! Why leaving the Nintendo was a big deal!

————————————-

“C’mon, Dad,” I plead, “The only way I can see you willingly giving away your Nintendo, even if just for a little while, would be if you were on your death bed and filling out your last will and testament. So go on, spill it, what’s up with that?”

My Dad just had this look of offense on his face like I had seriously wounded him with my words. “I am NOT that overprotective of it!”

“Yes you are.”

“Okay, I am,” he admits way too quickly, “but I just thought that you having it might be a good idea in case you finally get some free time coming up. Best way to enjoy it is to play it, after all.”

I chuckle, “Dad, the only way work is going to give me enough time off to sit on my butt and play video games is if some horrible catastrophe caused the art store to shut down. Like, I dunno, a deadly virus or something.”

[EDIT, APRIL 12th, 2020: ME AND MY BIG FAT MOUTH!

AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!]

Dad chuckles and say, “Yeah... you got a point there. Still, I think between you and your roommate, you’re both responsible adults now who can get some enjoyment out of it. I’m sure I can trust you two to take good care of it,” he says before raising an eyebrow, “or is there some reason I shouldn’t leave it here!?”

“Relax! We can look after it, Dad. Nothing’s going to happen to it,” I say as I whip my head back so fast it could have made a sonic boom. Just as I suspected, there was Tulpa sitting down in front of the Nintendo about ready to poke it with her finger. “Isn’t that right, Tulpa?” I say while looking straight at her.

“Y-yes...” she mutters.

Dad smiles at the two of us and then suddenly, out of the blue, he gives me this big ole bear hug and pats me on the back! It’s the same kind of hug he gave me on my first day at school, when I was leaving for summer camp, and when I moved into my freshman dorm for college. It was the kind of reassuring hug that says everything is going to be fine. “Ohhhhhhh, look at you growing up and being all responsible! I’m so proud of you, Lily!”

“Dad! Can’t breath, Dad!” I say before he finally lets go.

“Oh yeah, tomorrow, when you get a chance, make sure to pick up a couple packages of toilet paper,” he says casually, “your bathroom’s running low and now would be a good time to stock up.”

[EDIT April 12th, 2020: HE FREAKING KNEW!

HOW!?!?!?]

“Thanks for the tip, Dad,” I respond before saying the thing that led to my Dad saying the other thing that would make my brain do somersaults for the next few hours and ultimately come to you, dear diary, “What brought up that little nugget of wisdom? Dad-ly Intuition?” (Yes, that pun was intentional.)

“Well I’ve always considered myself to be a little psychic here and there,” he says about twenty-three seconds before the door closes and forty-five seconds before my face faults, “and you’ve always been a little psychic too, haven’t yah?”

“Sure Dad, I’ll catch you later,” I say waving goodbye.

“Take care, Lily! Keep in touch! Love you, sweetie!” he calls back as he’s walking into the hallway heading out,

“Love you too, Dad” I say as I close the door and lock the deadbolt. With that family obligation out of the way, I was feeling much better not having to worry about next weekend, not having to worry about Tulpa and Dad, and could just chill and relax and-

It was right about then that my eyes shot wide open as I stared ahead of me at nothing in particular. The gears in my head started turning faster and faster as the past few months living here started to tie together. Tulpa looks at me, slightly concerned. She’s still in her “disguise”, but looks genuinely concerned. She waves her hand it front of me and my mind is working at warp speed, so it doesn’t even register.

“Are you... okay... Lily?” she asks.

I slowly turn to look her in the eye, and then ask her flat out:

“Am I Psychic!?”

#my roommate is an apparition #reddpenn

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passionbooties · 5 years ago

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title: i bet you taste like gold rating: t pairing: raihan/leon summary: raihan's never been afraid of the chase. because in the end, he always knew he'd be the winner. that all crashes when the reward at the end of the chase is leon: the one man raihan has always lost to.OR five times raihan has mentioned or shown that he likes leon, and the one time leon finally gets it.

can be read on: ao3!

read under cut !

“Damn, we lost again! But ya did good, Duraludon.” Raihan calls back his Pokémon. Rotom flies around to snap photos of the moment. Because even though Raihan lost, he’s still handsome. And there’s something his followers love about his pouts after defeat-a beauty found in the pain, sort of thing.

He looks upward, to Leon’s smiling face. As brilliant as the sun while he laughs with his partner, Charizard. “Another win for the great champion of Galar!” Leon is so confident , so sure of himself, but so pure. His boasts never come off cocky. Only mere facts that the entirety of Galar have written into their history books as gospel truths. “But it’s to be expected. After all, I’m unbeatable.”

“Yeah, for now.” Raihan snorts, but there’s no derision. No anger. Only this unsettling warmth that seeps into his bones the more he looks at Leon’s smile and continues comparing him to the sun. Bright, orbiting, so expansive and heat-filled that ignoring him was impossible.

Not that Raihan ever tried. He’d been captured by Leon long ago…

“I was close, though!” Raihan continues, striding over to meet Leon on the other side of the pitch. “Duraludon nearly had your Charizard begging for mercy.”

Leon barks out a burst of laughter, Charizard following suit. “Yeah sure! If that’s what you want to call it, we can work with that.” Raihan rolls his eyes while Leon keeps laughing and laughing. And Raihan’s stomach keeps tumbling and twisting into knots.

Leon’s laughter is one of his favorite sounds. Better than any music Raihan’s ever listened to.

Rotom whirrs by, bumping into Raihan’s cheek. A subtle reminder to get his life together and not drool so much over his longtime rival and friend. Right, good.

“Well,” Raihan works his jaw, adjusting his posture to come off as casual-and not monumental or anything of the sort to show how much impact he wanted his words to convey. “If you were anyone else, I’d definitely try to throw hands. So you’re lucky that I like you so much.”

So much. So much more than any harboring feelings of platonic platitudes he carried for the other people in his life. His heart rate never sped up so viciously as it did around the champion. His thoughts were never consumed by anyone else other than Leon.

It was horrific. Raihan wanted to scream.

His nerves became static, but Leon doesn’t seem to catch onto his words. Not really, not to their significance. But the smile he gives Raihan is soft, dare he say intimate, and Raihan has to hold back-for now-the urge to pull Leon by his cape and kiss him.

Instead Leon says, “I like you too.”

And it’s not the same.

Raihan feels the heat dissipate and a weight drop, deep. Then comes the sandstorm. Obscuring the flash of disappointment from breaking through to the surface on Raihan’s face.

Then they’re swarmed by fans who happened to oversee their battle. Quick as a standard, covering up their tracks, asking Raihan and Leon for photos and autographs of their league cards. Leon, the beloved Champion, falls into the steps of his role. Signs the cards and strikes his pose and sprinkles advice for budding trainers.

Raihan follows suit. Slips on his little mask and uses Rotom to take a bunch of photos with his fans.

If every so often, Raihan peeked over to catch Leon laughing with the kids or striking his pose, embracing the spotlight he made with ease, then so be it.

It was hard to ignore the sun when it shone so close, so brilliantly, anyways.

II.

Raihan can’t remember when he fell.

But he knows it was a graceful fall. A sudden snowstorm that drowned him in the feeling of attachment and yearning and longing for Leon that resonated a powerful chord one day when Raihan least expected it.

All the leaders of Galar knew about his one-sided affections, except Leon of course.

It had almost become a joke. A running bet among the leaders about how much longer Raihan would skirt around before he finally lost his patience and straight up proposed. Others wondered about the opposite: how much longer would it take until Leon finally noticed?

Both bets ended in similar fashions: whatever the outcome was, it wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

Really, Raihan was somewhat coping with the fact that he was enamored by his best friend and greatest rival who was also, simultaneously, the most powerful trainer in all of Galar.

And the biggest idiot in all of Galar.

But that’s what was so charming .

And Raihan really, honestly, should have seen it coming. Leon attracted everyone. He was lion like. Prideful in his strength while caring a sort of regality that made others want to follow him. Raihan always chased after him from the start. To become better than him, to surpass him in the race and become champion.

Then somehow, someway, the chase ended in a plunge. And Raihan was diving face down into a rainstorm of emotional attachment.

While he may not remember when the feelings took root, he remembers vividly the first time he ever let it slip to Raihan about his feelings.

They were eating dinner at Bob’s Your Uncle. Raihan was snapping photos and Leon was making funny faces. Their food was gone by this point, but conversation didn’t stop. It never stopped between them. Leon always had stories to share about challengers who came for advice, for a battle, for a moment to bask in his presence. Raihan was always dishing out strategies, new ways to utilize the elements for his team’s advantage, better ways to craft synergy between his Pokemon in their double battles.

They were always talking and talking, bouncing back and forth, cracking jokes. Then Leon got called over by the manager and Raihan waves him off, because what is a Champion if not at the beck and call of their people, and as he watches them interact he thinks to himself how Leon looks like a king-cape aside.

Broad shoulders, a strong back, his shoulders squared. Everything in Leon’s stance is that of someone fit to rule. Fit to command. Fit to oversee. Fit to love . Strong and sturdy, a foundation that Raihan found himself wanting to utterly wreck and destroy beneath him.

Then his face got all red. His cheeks burned, a hot scorching sun across the expanse of his face. His eyes wide as he looks at Leon walking back over to him with a bottle of wine and two glasses. On the house from the manager for the two of them being such loyal customers.

When Leon sat down, he immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I like-” Raihan nearly bit his tongue. Leon blinked and Raihan couldn’t believe he almost confessed. Almost said I like you. I like you. So much, so much that I'm going to be swallowed whole and I had no idea this was going to happen.

“You like…?”

“Like-that we can use your Champion status to get free drinks, yeah.” Raihan lied easily, smoothly. Ignored the burnt taste on his tongue from his lie. Leon, thankfully, didn’t ask further. They shared drinks and went back to their conversation but this time Raihan couldn’t help but think Leon was the sun, over and over again, and how much he wanted to become an Icarus-scorched by his touch.

III.

“Honestly, just kiss him.”

“I’ve thought about that multiple times, Ness.”

Nessa folds her arms and leans back against the back of the booth, “Super surprised you haven’t gone full dragon mode and slobbered him silly with kisses, at this point. You’re normally much more straightforward with your conquests.”

Raihan rolls his eyes while Rotom snickers. “I’ll bring out the screwdriver on you,” he threatened but that only made Rotom whir and snicker louder. Gremlin. Raihan meets Nessa’s pointed gave, brilliantly blue and as fearsome as the ocean.

Which he needed, because Raihan was tired of bullshitting himself. Nessa was absolutely correct that Raihan wasn’t being himself. Not really, anyways. Raihan has confidence in his looks, his reputation, and overall swagger that he carries like a crown upon his head. He’s just as notorious, if not just as famous, as Leon-the only man to come close to someone Leon considered a rival. He can get anyone-he knows he can get anyone.

Usually it only took a smile in their direction, a flash of fang, a flex of muscle, a whisper in their ear covered in husk, sprinkled with secrets they could make between the two of them under bright moonlight and starless skies-yet all those tricks and tactics fell utterly short at Leon’s feet.

All Leon had to do was exist in the same space and time as Raihan and Raihan forgot how simple it was to breathe.

“Oh wow,” Nessa exhales with a whistle, reaching for more of her shake. She takes a pointed slurp. “You’ve got it bad , mate.”

“Shut up,” Raihan growls, but it sounds pitiful even to his own ears.

Nessa smirks with her straw still in her mouth, “Listen, I love Leon. Truly do, but the man is only focused on one thing: winning. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him even utter words like dating or love-they’re just too out of his orbit.”

“You think I don’t know that? The man’s got a bad case of one track mind and he’s barreling down that track at breakneck speeds.” Raihan goes for one of her fries because he needs comfort food and Nessa pinches his hand. “Ow! Rude, Ness.”

“Rai. Call him up and ask him out on a date. Then he can buy you fries.”

“I’ve considered that.”

“And?”

“And… what?”

“Let’s not play the who’s more dense game. Be the forward Raihan I know you can be and ask him out. What are you so afraid of?”

Ah, there it is. What was Raihan afraid of? And truly, what has he to lose? Everything comes snapping at him, fangs and claws at his neck. He never hesitated before. Never, because they were calculated wins. He knew with the people in his past he could obtain them, and obtain them easily. They were games where his outcome always ended with him as the winner.

But that changed with Leon. Not once, not ever, had Raihan been even close to winning against Leon. Perhaps that spiral of losses had downward dove into Raihan believing he’d lose to Leon in this too.

Raihan swore and Nessa simply shook her head. “Do what you need to do, Rai. But… if you ask me, I don’t think your chances of success are as low as you think they are.”

Raihan looks up at that. Sees the mischievous glint in Nessa’s eyes and a snow swirl of hope spike up in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

Nessa snorts and finishes off the last of her milkshake before she stands up, “The stars,” she answers impishly before she skips off to the bathroom. Leaving Raihan to stew and mutter and contemplate and go simply mad over her cryptic language.

Later that night, he texts Leon. Asking a simple question: What would you do if I said I liked you?

He gets a response about thirty minutes later and nearly cries.

Well of course I’d tell you I like you too. Haha, why what’s going on :P?

IV.

Raihan isn’t avoiding Leon.

No, he’s simply busy.

He has a gym to run after all. And Pokemon to train. Food to eat and places to explore. The wild area’s raid dens were popping off more often recently. So of course Raihan had to go and explore. See if there were any new dragon Pokemon he could catch, or Pokemon in general to battle against.

Sure, Leon would text him and Rotom would get all up in Raihan’s face whenever he did. But suddenly, Raihan couldn’t read anymore and to force himself to learn a skill he no longer had would be madness. So he refused to do so!

He was, in fact, avoiding Leon.

But his pride would never allow him to admit that.

Raihan’s able to pull this off for about three weeks when his luck runs out.

“Raihan!” Leon’s voice carries across the pitch of Hammerlocke stadium. Raihan stops his training with Flygon and Torkoal, nearly jumping from his skin.

Shit. Fuck. Shit. Flygon and Torkoal are giving him knowing looks and Raihan’s incredibly close to asking them both to set him ablaze with a flamethrower.

“Finally!” Leon runs over, all smiles and sunlight and Raihan wants to dig himself into the ground. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all week, yeah? Where have you been? Why haven’t you answered any of my messages?”

Raihan tilts his head. Makes his stance casual, hands in his pocket and words coming out with a drawl. “Been busy, mate. Got a gym to run and all that jazz.”

Leon looks at him strangely. And his sunlight starts to turn harsh. “Right… well, my mum’s grilling up a barbecue tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to come by and hang. I texted you and didn’t get a response. So I thought it’d be easier to just come in person!”

He’s so earnest. And so pure. So straightforward and just. Raihan’s heart squeezes, and aches. Every nerve in his body is snarling at him to confess. To unleash all the truth at Leon’s feet and hope for the best. To not let the fear of losing, again, so visceral, stop him from pursuing the golden man he craves.

Tell him you like him. Say it over and over until it penetrates the thick fog of obliviousness. Let him know over and over again how you crave the taste of his mouth. Want to run your nails down his back. Want to feel his surety and strength in the palm of your hands. How much you want to-

Rotom softly whirs beside him, having popped out to scope the scene. Flygon and Torkoal are looking at him, encouraging him to say something. To speak. Even if his voice shatters.

Yet, fear is stronger.

Fear wins.

“Can’t tonight,” ashes in his mouth-and the taste makes him sick as he continues. “I’ve already made plans.” he turns on his heel, lowering his visor so it shades his eyes. Leon could pierce through him, easily, and Raihan would rather die than have Leon see how pathetic he feels written all over his face.

Before Leon can say anything Raihan calls back Torkoal and makes Rotom go into his pocket. Then he climbs onto Flygon and tells it to take him to the Wild Area. Flygon hesitates, for a second. Looks back to Leon and softly hums before taking off with Raihan.

The mighty tamer of dragons, a coward when it comes to feelings.

Laughable.

The next time Raihan and Leon meet their world is unfurling at the seams.

Falling apart in bright columns of purple light.

The Darkest Day , Chairman Rose calls it. To save us all! To protect the future of Galar!

“He’s gone utterly insane,” Raihan hisses as the clouds above them turn pitch black and turbulent. The other leaders and challengers were doing their best to calm the masses and get them to safety. Raihan’s already making plans to go to Hammerlocke so he can go down to the power plant and beat some sense into Chairman Rose himself.

“I have to stop him,” Leon says from beside him. Raihan is reminded immediately how this is the first time in about a month that they’ve existed in the same space. They had a brief crossing in the locker room before the Championship Cup but it had been tense, and Raihan had kept himself short.

Time apart did his feelings no good. They festered like bacteria, crawling under the ground he tried to firmly pack like worms. Horribly gnawing away at his heart until Leon and the guilt he felt over their last meeting was all he his thoughts consumed.

“Leon,” Raihan says, the name dropping effortlessly out of his mouth before it can be stopped. Leon glances over at him, his mouth ready to move until the ground starts to shake at their feet. Crackling, gurgling with ancient energy. “Leon, move!”

Raihan’s body works faster. He pushes Leon out of the way as the earth cracks by their feet. A giant burst of purple energy, raw and vicious, shoots up into the sky. There’s screaming, and the scattering of feet. Dust floats in the air and rubble lays around them.

Raihan swears again, coughing as the dust settles. He pushes himself upwards, when he realizes the position their in. Leon is sprawled underneath him. Raihan’s on top. And Raihan hates, hates the sort of images that-Leon’s looking at him. And Raihan can read every single emotion behind his eyes-the anger and hurt and surprise and shock and joy and-

“Raihan,” Leon says quietly. Raihan’s snapped out of his thoughts as the world continues to collapse around them. “Are you alright?”

“I,” Raihan works his jaw, tries to make the words come out. “Yeah. Yeah I am. You?”

Leon’s still looking at him, still searching. And for once, just this time, Raihan lets himself be seen. Be pierced. Be examined and looked. Let’s the lion scrape away at the ground until there’s nothing but bare bones of emotion that Raihan can’t really hide from anymore.

There’s a few seconds that passes, then Leon closes his eyes and exhale deeply. “Help me up, please.”

Raihan does so, robotically. The two stand and stare at each other, a minute more, before Leon steps into Raihan’s space.

“You can’t go without backup,” Raihan starts. “You’re the Champion and all, I get that. But not even you-”

“I can,” Leon interjects, and he’s so close. So close and so sure, unwavering, Raihan doesn’t know how he thought he could run away from Leon when his gravitational pull was so deep. “And I’ll be back. Safe, and sound, so that when I come back, we can talk.”

“We can-?” Raihan’s words are swallowed whole by Leon’s lips on his.

Leon kisses the way he battles-sure, strong, and forward. It’s clumsy as all hell though, and Raihan hates the little choking noise he makes in surprise from it all. But Leon tastes like gold, with dirt, with liquid heat.

Leon pulls back, and his eyes are hooded. But his lips are pulled into the brightest grin as their foreheads touch in the middle of the chaos.

“Yes, we need to talk. We have a lot to go over." And then, a beat later and with a goofy grin to seal the deal, Leon says, "I talked to Nessa.”

Raihan’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “What did she say-”

“That you like me." Leon says effortlessly. "And that I’m as dense as a house of bricks. And she’s right, I am dense. But she also told me that I need to tell you that yes, Raihan, I like you too.”

Raihan is rooted. Cemented to the ground and Leon just gives him his soft smile, his confident gaze, and Raihan shoots forward to kiss him again. Sharply, one more time before letting go. One more time to make sure it’s real.

“Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant ,” he wants to laugh in hysterics but now, now is not the time. And this was not the place nor the setting he envisioned where this moment would finally come. “Yes. Okay. We will talk. After we save the world… be safe, Leon.”

“Always, Raihan.”

#my fanfic #raihan x leon #leon x raihan #raileon #truerivalshipping #pokemon raihan #pokemon leon #treasuredshipping #outcomeshipping

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tuxiedjabberwock · 4 years ago

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The Centurion and the Black Angel - Kid Icarus one-shot

When Pit gives his life on the battlefield to save Dark Pit's, he decides to look into a new Mirror of Truth in order to bring him back. ...He really should have thought things through better.

Category: Games » Kid Icarus Author: Sqydd Language: English, Rating: Rated: T Genre: Angst/Tragedy Published: 11-04-20, Updated: 11-04-20 Chapters: 1, Words: 11,074

Fanfiction.net

AO3

Quotev

"Pittoo?"

A dream. A bad, horrible, dreadful, unthinkable dream, that's what it was. After all, it was too improbable to be the real deal, wasn't it? To see that insufferable mouth sealed shut, a deep crimson staining his lips; those blue eyes which always sparkled with energy and life gazing blankly to the sky.

"Pittoo? What's the situation? Where is Pit?"

I'm wondering that too, he thought, slipping a hand under dampened hair and lifting his head from where it fell into the shallows. Pit's laurel crown was buried in the pond's muck; Dark Pit pulled it free with his other hand and replaced it where it belonged.

"I'm coming down there to check on you. Don't move, especially if you're badly injured; you can bleed out."

Blood… That was a funny thing. Humans bled profusely when struck by divine weaponry. That blood was almost scalding until it began to cool against the lukewarm swamp water, and it congealed at Dark Pit's ankles where they rested at the shoreline. The shadow of his Silver Bow fell over them from where it stood impaled in a soldier's chest with the setting sun's rays falling over them in gentle reds and purples. His hands began shaking and his vision blurred with tears.

"Pit…you…damn…idiot," he whispered, bowing his head against the original's. His whole body was shaking and he couldn't stop it. Maybe it was compensating for his original, who could no longer tremble in fear. "Fucking…idiot…why did you…why did you even…don't you know…?"

A soft musical tone began behind him before something fell into the mud. Palutena gave a surprised cry, then she said tentatively, "Dark Pit? Are you alright?"

That was it. Those words severed the last bits of self-control Dark Pit held. The Goddess of Light asked if he was alright, and he was. I'm alright, he thought as tears poured down his cheeks and dripped onto Pit's face, cutting through the caked-on grime. His shoulders bowed and he gritted his teeth against the wails erupting from his throat.

I'm alright because your stupid angel gave his life for a copy.

There were a lot of tears shed in the heavens for the next week. Palutena did most of the crying, albeit out of sight, but Dark Pit could hear her moans in the middle of the night. Viridi saved hers until the golden tablet was placed over Pit's mouth, and Dark Pit turned to see her staring with wide and wet eyes. Phosphora retreated once his body was buried among the grass and fields, her cheeks already glistening, and Phos and Lux brayed in mourning.

Dark Pit had no tears left, but he made sure the Palutena Bow was clenched in Pit's hands before he went under. In case Hades tried to screw with him in the afterlife…or so his justification went. Mostly it made his heart ache to see the blades even after the human blood was meticulously scrubbed away.

"What happened?" Palutena's voice was soft and motherly as it always was, no trace of accusation there, but Dark Pit felt like sinking into the deepest hole anyway. He averted his eyes and stared at his fingers wrapped around the grip of his Silver Bow.

"It was a human army versus Hades' army running 10:1. The humans had the advantage, but the dark energy produced by the monsters made them wilder, more unpredictable." He spoke in a detached voice that kept him grounded; he stated the facts as telling a story, not reliving the worst day of his short life. "Not only did we have to fight back the monsters, we had to save them from themselves. Pit did, and he tried his damn hardest like always. Didn't let a single human die."

Not a human died. Not one human died under Pit's watch.

"And then?" Viridi, standing off to the side, looked on with an unreadable expression as Dark Pit's fingers tightened. He fought the urge to retreat into himself.

"One of the humans snuck up on me." Stupid him for not sensing the man's presence. Stupid him for being so slow to react. Stupid him for— "Pit covered me. A—…And it was the last thing he did."

She should have shouted at him. He wanted her to rebuke him for the worst mistake of his short life. Instead, she sighed and gave a little chuckle. "Heh. That's our stupid angel, alright."

He wasn't proud of it, but he took the holy weapon forged by the Goddess of Light and speared the human through the heart. He shoved the blades in with so much force that several ribs were also broken on impact, and the momentum carried the grown man deep into the dirt. He wasn't proud of it because he knew Pit would hate his weapon being sullied like that, even if it was in his name. Especially because it was in the name of revenge.

Pit suffered a painless death; before he hit the ground, he was gone, the sword's handle still protruding from his back like some sick joke. Dark Pit removed it with the utmost care and set him down in a more comfortable position, as if such a thing mattered in death, before taking up the Silver Bow. He couldn't recall much of what transpired after—it remained a stubborn blur in his mind to date—but his memories afterwards began with him standing amidst a sea of carnage. The Underworld Army, of course, left no trace, but human corpses decorated the ground around him.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

Subsequently, he spent a lot of time in Skyworld, ignoring Viridi's calls to lounge around in Pit's old hangout spots. He had a private hot spring not far from his quarters, shaded by white marble pillars holding up an arched roof and surrounded by lush green grass and wildflowers. Dark Pit enjoyed sitting at the shore, nude ankles submerged in the warm golden water.

"Viridi was asking about you." The grass crunched behind him before Palutena sat primly beside him, legs folded and dress fanning out around her. Dark Pit kept his gaze on the small waves.

"Viridi has hordes of acolytes to do her dirty work. I'm allowed to take a break. Let them scare off whatever human stepped on a sapling this time."

"That's not what she was asking about." Palutena's delicate hand landed atop his on the grass; he quickly pulled it away and she didn't react. "She and the rest of us are concerned. No one was closer in mind and spirit as you to Pit."

"Well don't be concerned. I'm fine." He spat the word like bitter poison, not at all helping his case, but he hated it. Hated being treated like paper, hated knowing Pit died for a stupid copy, hated knowing the only person who related to him in the world was gone and he was alone, would live alone for an angel's long long life and die alone…

"I didn't say you weren't," she said smoothly, "but that doesn't make me any less concerned for you. I care about you, Pittoo. And by the way, you've been brooding in this spot for five hours—that's not what fine people do."

"So what if I have been brooding? Aren't I allowed to grieve in my own way? You've been moaning up a storm like a ghost." He could hear her affronted gasp. "You may have been Pit's goddess, but I am not Pit. You don't need to give me your concern, nor do I need it. The only thing I need is for you to let me be, Palutena."

"…As you wish, then. But you know where to find me." She stood up, dusted herself off, and with a smile in Dark Pit's direction, she took her leave.

"The same goes for you, Viridi."

Puh-lease, Viridi said, voice echoing out from his fibula. The tough guy act may work on Palutena, but not on me. You're hurting.

"Aren't we all? Leave me alone."

Fine then. Don't do anything stupid. And she left with a poignant huff.

"Don't do anything stupid, huh…" He chuckled mirthlessly. His stupid acts only happened around Pit, though another person would call them selfless. Things like helping him fight the Chaos Kin to revive Palutena, and journeying to Hell to save Pit's life, destroying the gates to the Underworld and helping to weaken Hades. Yeah, when it came to Pit, he didn't think too rationally, and only now when it was too late to say so, he realized it was more than just an obligation to the "original." He cared deeply for Pit…and now he was gone forever.

"Dammit!" he roared, kicking the water at his feet. His reflection distorted before resettling, revealing the tear tracks running from his scarlet eyes. He hissed and threw an arm over his face, falling back onto the grass. "Stupid, stupid, why did he take that hit, why did he have to die…?"

He took longer than he wanted to calm down, and when he finally sat up again he felt drained, physically and emotionally. He knelt and lowered his face to the water, splashing the warmth across his splotchy cheeks to clean them up. He sighed when the soppy feeling left and glared down into his puffy-eyed reflection.

"Just a stupid reflection, is all I am…why did he have to—"

Dark Pit stopped cold and stared harder, digging his fingers into the soft dirt. "I'm a reflection," he breathed, eyes wide. An imperfect one, but a reflection nonetheless. If he could look into the Mirror of Truth again, another opposite would be created—a Pit would be created. It would fix everything!

But the Mirror was shattered when he was "born." He clearly remembered shattering it. But…but…Pandora had been revived in the Rewind Spring as Amazon Pandora. If she was still hanging around, perhaps she created another Mirror. It was a hell of a long shot, but honestly, what else did he have to lose?

The issue was locating her now. He would have to ask around on the surface, preferably not where they were last time. If only he had a contact…suddenly, Dark Pit recalled a story Pit told him of a human associate. Perhaps he did have a contact?

Vigor renewed, Dark Pit yanked on his sandals and raced to the edge of Skyworld, throwing himself into the cold clouds below. "Viridi, grant me the Power of Flight!" he shouted.

Someone's pushy about it, she grumbled, but her earthen energy filled him all the same. Where's the fire, angel boy?

He ignored her and folded his wings back in a dive, cutting through the air like a spear and towards the mountainous ground. Here's hoping he wasn't getting his spirit worked up for nothing.

In an out of the way town that reeked of danger and blood, Dark Pit walked into a bar. The decidedly unfriendly looking patrons turned to sneer at him, but his responding glare turned them right back around. He had eyes only for the broad leather-clad back sitting at the bar counter.

"Magnus?"

Said back turned, revealing a scruffy middle-aged human holding a cup of ale. He looked Dark Pit up and down and remarked, "Unless you've turned emo since I last saw you, which I somehow doubt, you must not be Pit?"

"Dark Pit," he said. "Pit has…Pit died in battle."

Magnus' previously lax expression turned blank, then he raised his ale. "Here's to him, then." He slammed back the alcohol and dropped the cup on the counter. "Terrible thing. That kid had a lot of fire."

"He did. Which is why I want to bring him back. Have you heard anything about Pandora?" Magnus raised an eyebrow.

"The goddess Pandora, I'm assuming? Yeah, I've heard a few things here and there." Dark Pit took a seat next to Magnus and waved down the bartender, holding up two fingers. The bartender set two glasses of ale down for each of them. Magnus looked on curiously as Dark Pit downed it in one gulp. "You two aren't the same, that's for sure," he remarked.

"Well, spill what you know."

"Normally I'd charge for my information, but call it a freebie for an old friend." Magnus took a few swallows before speaking again. "Heard she was seen on the outskirts of that huge forest where the town was, way up north."

Reset Bomb Forest. Viridi didn't keep tabs of the area anymore, so it was reasonable to assume Pandora was hiding out there. Dark Pit slapped down a few coins and slid off the stool.

"Thanks. I'll be heading out."

"One more thing." Magnus finished his ale and levelled a sober look at the dark angel. "Whatever you got in mind, don't let it be the death of ya. I barely knew angel-face and I could tell ya, he wouldn't like that."

"Trust me," Dark Pit muttered, turning away and sidling to the door, "I know."

Outside he took to the sky in one big leap. He had already used his Power of Flight, but this time the winds were in his favor; he glided across the small dilapidated buildings until they turned to naked rock, then lush pink foliage. He flapped his wings to gain some altitude as purple crystals jutted from the earth like spears, but very soon he was forced to land. The thick forestry cut the wind and he could glide no farther.

The forest was so thick only the barest lines of sun made it through; it was all he could do to see his own two feet as he fought not to trip and fall on a bed of random barbs…again.

"The things I do for this angel," he grumbled, picking a thorn out of his cheek. He tried not to think too hard about what he was doing, because then doubts would surface. What if the Mirror didn't work? What if there was no Mirror? What if he looked into it and nothing came, because…what if he didn't have a soul? He waved the thoughts away and moved a little faster, stumbling over a gnarled branch.

"Hey Pittoo, guess what?"

"Buzz off," Pittoo grumbled, not opening his eyes. "And don't call me that."

"It's my birthday!" Pit continued undaunted.

"Great. So what?"

Dark Pit was grabbed around the shoulders and pulled up from his lounging position. He growled and opened his eyes, watching Pit prance excitedly around on the green grass, wings stretched high and flapping madly. "Think about it," he said with a wide grin, coming to a stop a few feet away.

"The only thing I'm thinking about is kicking your ass and continuing my nap."

"Come on, don't you get tired of being a grouch all the time? Well anyway, this'll cheer you up." Pit suddenly thrust a messily wrapped brown package in Dark Pit's face. He took it with no small measure of confusion.

"Um. Thanks? What?"

"It's my birthday," Pit repeated, "and since you're me, it's your birthday to. So…happy birthday!"

Pittoo was absolutely floored and watched Pit gesture excitedly at the present. Haltingly, he pulled apart the thin paper to reveal a small cardboard box. He pulled the lid off and saw a small doll that sort of looked like him if he squinted. "Did you…make this?"

"Yeah. Um, I'm not too good at knitting, but Lady Palutena said it's the thought that counts." He laughed awkwardly and rubbed his neck. "And, uh, it's filled with your and my feathers? I'm thinking about it now and it seems a little creepy…"

"No, it's…uh…" He ducked his head a little to hide the flush creeping up his neck. "Um. Thanks, Pit."

Dark Pit gritted his teeth. That doll was still in his little alcove in Viridi's world. When he revived Pit—because he definitely would—he would come up with something equally as nice to give him.

He heard the faint sound of mumbling and picked up the pace as much as he could, flapping his wings to get the slightest bit above ground. He felt like a damn chicken without the Power of Flight.

He felt a thick branch sloping upwards and scaled up, avoiding the little thorns until it begins to level out. He peered through a break in the violet leaves and saw one of the old human structures, a large two storied building with crumbling walls interwoven by thick branches and curling ivy. Sunlight shone through the canopy above and coalesced on something at the tip of the structure.

"Why is Hades ignoring me now? Stupid bloathead," Pandora was saying as her back floated into view. Dark Pit leaned forward with a grimace. "I thought we had a nice thing going…and the Hearts he paid me were delightful." She rose higher to the ceiling of the building and glanced his way; he ducked his head. "Well, at least I managed to create this beautiful Mirror."

Mirror!

He leapt through the leaves and into the clearing. Pandora spun around and her face twisted in anger. "You stupid angel, you aren't shattering my Mirror a second time!"

He scanned the area until he spotted the Mirror on top of the building. The frame was made of twisted branches and the glass was reflecting the sunlight from the open canopy. He just needed to look into it and—

He dodged to the side as one of Pandora's heart missiles struck the ground where he was standing. He whipped out the Silver Bow and fired a volley of arrows; she twirled and vanished, avoiding the attack before reappearing above his head and dropping a large purple bomb. He fired an arrow and the explosion released a cloud of pink smoke, obscuring his vision.

"The last I heard, the cuter angel kicked the bucket. Is that true?"

Dark Pit growled and spun, not before taking a kick to the shoulder and falling in the dirt. He rolled out of the way of another projectile and to his feet, jumping above the smokescreen and onto a beam jutting from the building. Just one look, just one look and everything will be fine—

"No, don't look in the Mirror!" Pandora launched another heart right at the glass, then her eyes widened in shock. He was still too far, he had to stop it somehow; he couldn't let her shatter the mirror!

"No—!" Dark Pit launched himself in the air and intercepted the projectile, which slammed him in the gut like one of Pit's clubs. The air left his lungs in a pained gasp and his wings seized up, leaving only his momentum carrying him backwards into the Mirror of Truth. He felt the coldness of the glass for a mere moment before it shattered against his back, peppering his skin with tiny shards. He fell through the emptied frame and to the hard-packed dirt below.

"No…no!" He shot into a sitting position, eyes wide as he beheld the frame full of broken shards. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes and his fists balled against his aching stomach. "D—Dammit…!"

Plunk.

"What? No!" Pandora's disbelieving shriek caught his attention. He looked past her floating form to the source of her ire…a small white-clothed form balled on the ground. Could it be…no…no, it had to be.

Pain forgotten, Dark Pit lurched to his feet and leapt forward, past the enraged goddess and to the prone form in the dirt. Pit was exactly as he had been, down to the untamed bedhead, though he was completely unconscious. A relieved, borderline dopey smile crossed Dark Pit's face, and tears did run down his cheeks, happy ones. He lifted Pit's face to press their foreheads together.

You're back…

Pandora's continued screams reminded Dark Pit there was an urgent matter to attend to. Glancing around, he quickly spotted his Silver Bow poking out from the mud nearby. He threw himself into a roll and snatched it up, notching an arrow and taking aim at Pandora. She looked down at him with an expression of pure fury.

"Do you know how hard I worked to revive that Mirror? You're dead!" She sent a flurry of purple hearts towards him and he released his arrow into the center of the storm before taking to the air. Pandora disappeared with a twirl and Dark Pit didn't have time to react before a slim hand latched around his neck. Her momentum carried him backwards into a pile of brambles; the thorns tore into his back and he gritted his teeth against the scream of pain that wanted to rise.

"You're the one who will die, Pandora." He broke the bow into swords and cut her hand at the wrist. She pulled away with a scream, her handless wrist streaming golden ichor, her wristless hand dripping onto Dark Pit's clothes like acid. He tore the hand away and righted himself, landing on his toes on a branch and launching himself up again. Pandora pulled her unharmed arm back for an attack and he tossed the sword like a knife. Another shield appeared, and her expression turned panicked when he broke the shield with his body, jabbing the remaining sword into her gut.

They fell back to earth and her face was frozen in shock even in her death. He leapt backwards before her body melted into ichor, scoffing quietly before turning to Pit. He hadn't moved and Dark Pit couldn't hide his concern. Collecting the Silver Bow, he returned to Pit's body and cradled him to his chest. "Palutena?" he called.

"Dark Pit, what's going on?"

"Take me to Skyworld, please."

She hesitated and he heard her swallow. A…Alright. Light surrounded him and lifted his wings; Pit's fluttered weakly but otherwise he didn't respond. Dark Pit's brow furrowed and his anxiety grew.

"What's wrong with him?"

Palutena and Viridi were waiting for him in the main hall. Palutena's eyes widened and she dropped her staff; Viridi's jaw dropped quite unattractively. Dark Pit stumbled his way to Palutena, whose arms raised automatically to catch Pit when he was all but dropped. "Help him," Dark Pit whispered before he hit the ground.

Dark Pit woke in a room unfamiliar to him. The bed was large and soft, made of down feathers and silk sheets rather than Viridi's rocks covered in leaves. He blinked groggily and looked around; a window looked out to the cover of clouds and there was a steel basin at the side of the bed. He peered over the lip and realized it was full of hot spring water.

Dragging his legs over the side of the bed, he forced them rigid and stood up, falling over and grabbing the nightstand before he faceplanted on the marble. His boy felt numb and heavy altogether and he kind of just wanted to lie down and die, but he had to make sure Pit was okay. He glanced around and saw his Silver Bow leaning against the wall; he took it and braced his boy against it with two hands, keeping his shaky body upright. His burnt robes were gone, leaving him only in his shorts and rings of slightly spotted bandages around his stomach and back. He gritted his teeth and pulled the door open.

He stumbled around blindly for a bit before catching wisps of Palutena and Viridi's voices. He followed the sounds down a branching hall and found them arguing softly in front of a door. Viridi was facing him and spotted him first; her hazel eyes narrowed slightly and she smirked.

"Well, let's let Pittoo clear up the details," she said. Palutena turned and Dark Pit was alarmed to see her eyes so bloodshot. It was like she was grieving a second time. His heart fell. No, don't let him have died a second time because of me…no, no way…

"Dark Pit?" she said softly. Dark Pit made his ambling way over until Palutena's hands laid on his shoulders, keeping him upright. "Please, can you tell us what happened?"

"First, I want to see Pit," he gasped. The goddesses exchanged a look and Viridi's smile soured.

"Why not?" she shrugged, passing Palutena to open the door. He caught a glance of Pit among a blue-sheeted bed and piles of stuffed animals—must be the idiot's bedroom—and he was no more awake than before. The door shut again and Viridi folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, explanation time."

"The Mirror of Truth," he said softly. Palutena gasped while Viridi gritted her teeth.

"Dark Pit," Palutena said urgently, "tell me you didn't create Pit using a Mirror." He hesitated before nodding and all the color left her face. "This is…oh, no, this can't be…"

"Why?"

"Because you're damaged goods," Viridi said bluntly. Had he possessed the energy, he would have lashed out, but so far it was taking everything he had to remain upright. "When you were created, it was with Pit, who has a complete soul; the Mirror was shattered halfway through and your soul wasn't completely formed. It's incomplete. Now you took that and made another half-copy."

"Are you saying there's something wrong with me?" he growled. Palutena huffed and turned his head back to her.

"It's just unnatural," she insisted. "In the first place, the Mirror is not meant for beings with souls; that's why it only worked on the Underworld Army. Pit's energy allowed you to be created. We just…we don't know what this can mean, especially since Pit is still unconscious. If he wakes, he could be what you were meant to: completely evil."

"Of course, if he wakes up," Viridi added casually. "The vegetable-hater could end up being a vegetable himself."

"Viridi!" he snapped, then groaned at the ache it left in his stomach. Palutena hushed him, running a hand through his hair. He hated how pleasing the gesture felt.

"Let's get you back to bed first. You're still too weak to be up and about."

He didn't have the energy to fight as Palutena took one of his arms and led him back to the room he woke up in. She laid him down and took a cloth from the basin, wringing it out before setting it on his forehead.

"You're a bit feverish," she said as way of explanation. Viridi sighed and sat in an ornate chair.

"There are many things that can go wrong, Pittoo. Don't you think we knew that Pandora had the Mirror? Why do you think we didn't try it ourselves?"

"Who's to say it will be 'Pit' in the end?" Palutena said softly. "Maybe he won't have any memories, maybe his personality will change… It was all just one big risk. It still is until he wakes and we can know for sure."

"So what if he doesn't remember? So what if he's a little different? He'll still be Pit," Dark Pit said. Palutena sighed.

"It's not only about that… We've moved on, we have accepted his death. It was a very terrible thing and we wish it didn't happen, but it did. He died protecting you, and we know he would be happy with that fact. You're the only one who isn't."

"Don't make me out to be in the wrong here," he muttered. "If you had a chance to bring Pit back, you would have too."

"Did you hear what she just said?" Viridi said derisively, then groaned. "It doesn't matter. It's already been ten days; Pit has no injuries but he won't wake. It's not looking good for him."

Dark Pit fought down his rising despair and scowled. "Just wait."

"And for how long exactly? We're immortal, but things can still be pointless."

"What Viridi is trying to say in her own tactless way," Palutena said, "Dark Pit…"

"I know what she's trying to say," he interjected. "I don't care. Let me be responsible for him then, however…he may come out of this." If at all. "I'm the one who made this decision, I will be accountable."

Palutena chewed her lower lip, then set her hands between her legs. The fabric couldn't quite hide their trembles. "Let's see how things look in another fortnight, then. It will take about that long for your injuries to fully heal."

"I can take care of myself," he said. Viridi rolled her eyes.

"And then he goes and throws himself through another magic mirror…"

"Viridi!" Palutena chided. Viridi threw her hands up placatingly with a shrug.

"Just saying."

Palutena appeared at least once a day to look over him and make sure he was healing properly. Once he was well enough to get around, he spent his evenings in Pit's hot spring, relishing the soothing heat against his torn back. The delicate bones of his wings had thankfully survived the fall, but some of his primary feathers were ripped out. They were already partly grown back.

When he returned to his unofficial room on the fourteenth day, he found new black robes neatly folded on the sheets that smelled like cow manure. He was already tired of Pit's white clothes, but he couldn't say the fertilizer smell was better. He slipped on the familiar colors and sighed, turning to his Silver Bow.

"Now or never…"

He slung the weapon across his back and relished the security it brought. He would need all his nerve for this.

Dark Pit had memorized the short journey to Pit's room in his convalescent time and made not one errant step on the way. He pushed the door open a crack and peered at the bed; he hadn't moved an inch same as before. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"It's now or never, idiot," he said, walking up to the bed. Floor to ceiling windows lined the adjacent wall, facing the gardens where centurions practiced their moves. The courtyard was empty now, leaving only the sense of what was once there.

Dark Pit sat in the chair at Pit's bedside; still, the angel did not stir. "I knew what I was risking when I went for the Mirror, but I did it anyway. So you can't just not wake up—you can't just not be Pit. I…I haven't moved on and I know it. I feel empty without you around, and it's ridiculous; since when have I needed your inane jokes to fill some void? But the fact is, Pit, I just…I j-ju…please, wake up already."

No movement on the bed. Dark Pit lowered his face to his hands, gripping it so tightly he felt sure his fingers would leave bruises. Good; he wanted his face to be different, wanted to look and see something other than the useless copy that not only killed Pit once, but twice…! Gods would he hate himself for this; he would curse his own name until the day the breath left his body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "So sorry, so so sorry…"

When he raised his head, Pit was sitting up in bed. Dark Pit nearly fell from the chair in shock.

Pit's eyes were fuzzy with sleep as they roamed the room. Dark Pit held his breath, waiting for something, anything. They finally landed on the black angel and no kind of recognition showed. He wondered if Pit really had lost his memories, or worse, as Viridi predicted.

"Pit?" Dark Pit hedged, leaning forward slightly. Pit blinked slowly, scanning his face for what felt like an hour. His white wings flapped with unease before curling around his skinny torso. "Do you…understand what I'm saying? Not that you really did before, moron," he muttered under his breath, more to soothe himself with some familiarity than actually throwing a jab out there. Then, to his utter shock:

"Not a moron!"

His head snapped back to Pit so quickly he nearly got whiplash. Pit's brows were drawn into a frown and his eyes were alight, polished by indignant anger. Dark Pit lunged onto the bed with one knee, grabbing Pit's cheeks and staring him down.

"Pit, is that you? For real?"

Pit fell silent again, eyes scanning Dark Pit once more, and he wondered if he imagined things. He didn't respond as the seconds ticked on and Dark Pit made to move away, but Pit's hands snapped up and gripped his wrists tightly. A tiny smile crossed his face.

"Hey, Pittoo, are you crying?"

His excitement overweighed his resentment at being caught teary-eyed—which he absolutely wasn't, by the way. His arms went around Pit and Palutena's angel let out a little surprised squeak. "You're okay," Pittoo said into his wing. Pit gasped, then relaxed into the hold.

"I'm okay," he repeated.

Palutena cried a lot. So much that Dark Pit felt awkward being there, but Pit didn't want him to leave. She held him close and sobbed and he nuzzled into the side of her neck without a word.

Viridi wasn't nearly so emotional. She looked Pit up and down with a derisive snort, nodded, and left. Dark Pit did catch an unnatural glisten to her eyes though.

Pit spent a lot of time asleep, but when he was awake he was very cognizant, albeit sluggish when it came to expressing his thoughts. Palutena wanted Dark Pit to monitor him since he hung around so often, but so far Dark Pit thought things worked out. There were no apparent drastic consequences apart from the lethargy—which he assumed to be temporary—and Pit was becoming more expressive by the day.

"Pittoo," he said, drawing him from his thoughts. He was hugging a star-shaped pillow to his chest and staring through the window at the clouds beyond. "D'ya think Lady Palutena would be okay with letting me fly?"

"Dunno, it's only been a few weeks—she's just barely managed to stop bawling her eyes out when you took a dump on your own."

"Yeah, but…I miss the air." Pit opened his mouth as if he had more to say, then shut it again. He didn't need to explain, Dark Pit understood. And, well, who was he to deny the one who rose from the grave anyway?

"Alright then. Let's go." Pit's head snapped back to his double, eyes comically wide and feathers askew.

"Right now?"

"I thought you meant right now. Cold feet?" Dark Pit smirked as he slid an arm around Pit's bony back, gripping him firmly on his ribcage. With his help, Pit slid to his feet and remained standing, although his wings fluttered reflexively to maintain his balance. Together, they ambled their slow way over to the gates of Skyworld, which parted in their presence and left them to face the great beyond.

"Palutena?" Pit said softly.

I don't think this is a good idea, Pit, Palutena responded, her voice ringing through Dark Pit's head as well as Pit's. You're still recovering, and I don't want anything to happen to you.

"Palutena, please. For a week all I've done is lie around and have people worry over me. At first, I was happy to have Pittoo at my beck and call," he sent a small smile in Pittoo's direction despite his scowl, "but I…I want to fly. I can't explain it."

"Remember it's my job to keep an eye on him," Dark Pit said. She was silent and he moved Pit forward. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he said. Dark Pit wrapped an arm around Pit's waist and they fell forward into the endless sky.

"Viridi, grant me the Power of Flight!"

Ya know, it'd be nice if you did me some favors once in a while, she said mockingly, but gave him the power all the same. His wings spread overhead, bathing Pit's face in the greens and golds as he looked at the clouds below in wonder.

"It'll get cold," Pittoo warned before they dove into the cloud cover. Pit's hair was plastered to his forehead from the damp and he shivered a bit but the grin never left his face.

"I missed this." The clouds passed and they were soaring over a human town. Pit frowned at the sight as a dark cloud passed over his face. "Dark Pit…you never told me how I came back."

Dark Pit sighed. Pit eventually recalled his death, though he never described it—not that the dark angel wanted to hear it—but no one really told him how he'd revived. Palutena mentioned Dark Pit was the cause but that was about it. "Well, before I begin, remember that you've done far stupider things."

"That's a good sign," he said with a little smile.

"It… I used—"

An arrow suddenly flew inches past Dark Pit's nose. They looked down to see a small portion of the Underworld Army at the outskirts of the town; the humans were fighting valiantly, but Twinbellows was heading the attack and they were losing ground.

"Let's get down there," Pit said immediately. Pittoo's face went cold.

"We…can't. As your goddess said, you're still healing." Pit was already shaking his head before Dark Pit finished speaking.

"Pit," Palutena interjected, anxiety clear in her tone.

"Lady Palutena, please," Pit said when Pittoo made no moves to lower them, "the Power of Flight."

"We can't lose you again. It's far too risky. You shouldn't have come out at all—"

"Palutena!" he shouted, startling even Dark Pit. "The Underworld Army is there!"

"…Dark Pit?"

"I won't…" Pit gave him a scathing look and Pittoo matched it. "I won't allow it."

"Fine then!" In an alarming show of strength, Pit ripped Dark Pit's hand from his side and began to plummet. Dark Pit folded his wings back and dove after, but Pit had already begun to glide. Dark Pit was shocked to see Pit had grabbed the Silver Bow from his back.

"Dark Pit!" Palutena cried.

"I know!"

Their midair chase continued until they were low enough that Dark Pit could see the humans' bloody and bruised faces. Truth be told, after what had happened, he cared much less for what became of them; something Viridi appreciated as her ecological escapades could be callous at best towards them. But if anything was an indication of Pit still being Pit, this was it: throwing himself headlong into the fray with a half-functioning body and non-functioning brain. Gods, he hated that kid sometimes.

Pit's first three shots were wobbly and terribly off-mark; he missed the Monoeye by a longshot, and that thing was the definition of a target. He didn't react initially and alighted directly behind them, stumbling a bit on weak legs. Dark Pit followed right after and seized him by the forearm, causing Pit to cry out in pain.

"I'm going to kill you," he ground out between his teeth, "if these damn demons don't do it first."

Pit yanked his arm free and scowled, hiding the fact he was struggling to get another arrow ready. "I appreciate your concern, Dark Pit, but—"

"—but you're going back to Skyworld yesterday." Pit narrowed his eyes; Pittoo narrowed his eyes as well.

"Make. Me."

"Is that a challenge?"

Pit's scowl deepened, then a wicked smile crossed his face, something that sent a chill down Pittoo's spine. "No," he said, and leveled an arrow at Dark Pit's heart. "It's a threat."

…

…Shit.

Is this guy serious?

Robotically, Dark Pit raised his open palms and took a step back. "Pit. Pit, you're not serious."

"No, I'm not." His face dropped into a grin and he leapt into the air, gliding above the fight with arrows flying like clockwork. He was still off mark but visibly improving by the moment. Dark Pit was rooted to his spot, eyes on the white angel.

"Hey, Palutena…"

"Pittoo?"

He didn't respond, the words stuck in his throat as enemy after enemy dropped steadily. Pit had taken up a rhythm: glide, shoot, land, and over and over again. His face was focused, a look he wore many times before, but Dark Pit couldn't help remembering the expression when he threatened to shoot.

Pit's efforts were small in the grand scheme of things, but the little aid he provided allowed the humans to gain a fighting advantage. Soon enough, it was down to them and Twinbellows. It growled, huge ropes of acidic drool falling to the earth and sizzling on contact. Pit's back was straight as he faced the flaming mutt, but Dark Pit could see the tired slump to his shoulders. Pit looked up to the sky for a moment, then the familiar light of extraction surrounded him. Without missing a beat, he ripped the fibula from his shoulder and tossed it into the dirt, cutting all contact with Skyworld. Dark Pit felt like ripping his hair out.

"Pittoo, please, at least give him this." The blue light shone down on him, bearing with it the Palutena Bow. "And watch his back."

"Tch. I already know." He took the bow and whistled sharply; a flaming head turned in his direction. "Hey, you overgrown mutt, how about you chew on one of these?" Twinbellows opened its mouth for a roar and Dark Pit fired an arrow right inside. Its jaws clamped shut and it stumbled backwards with a loud whine. The humans scattered to avoid being trampled but Pit was much slower; Pittoo lurched forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the way before he was squashed.

"Thanks," Pit said, holding out the Silver Bow. Dark Pit snatched it with a glare.

"We," he said lowly, tossing the Palutena Bow over, "are going to have a talk later. But for now—"

"Duck!" he cried and pushed the dark angel's head down, narrowly avoiding a flaming claw swipe. Dark Pit grabbed Pit's hand from his head and made sure he was making eye contact.

"For now, don't die. Again."

"Will do." Pit gestured to the human warriors backing away from Twinbellows' advances. The dog was leaving flaming trails wherever its paws landed; soon the blaze would reach their city. "We have to get them to safety first. Back to their city."

"Okay, but—" Dark Pit paused and his eyes narrowed at the entry gates. The wall was made of thick stone slabs, but the top seemed hollow… "That's an aqueduct." Pit followed his gaze and grinned.

"Wash out Twinbellows?"

"Get them in the town first."

"I'll distract Twinbellows," Pit said, and before Pittoo could protest he was running back into the fray, firing at its massive paws. This time, Dark Pit did yank a chunk of hair out. He tried to calm down as he faced the townspeople.

"Retreat! Retreat!" he called, then felt a blaze of heat prickling at his feathers. He turned and began spinning his bow at top speed, dissipating the massive fireball that had been sent their way. The townspeople needn't be told twice; they turned tail and ran back to their gates. Pittoo brought up the rear, redirecting any stray bolts of fire.

Pit was holding his own as well as he could. He alighted on rock outcroppings to give himself a bit of a height edge as he fired volleys of arrows, but they didn't shine as brightly as they ought to. Pit's next landed resulted in botched footing, and his wings flapped uselessly as he tumbled onto his stomach. Twinbellows roared and his rightmost head snapped out and gobbled him in one bite.

"Pit!" Dark Pit shouted. Twinbellows whinnied in pain and shook its heads; he realized Pit was using his bow to keep its jaws propped open. Pit was clinging for his life but he was slipping towards its throat. Dark Pit glanced over his shoulder; the last man was just making his way through the gates. He notched another arrow and let it fly. The arrow sliced a massive chunk through the gate, letting the heavy flow of water gush across the dirt. He raced ahead and soared into the air, landing on Twinbellows' nose. In the seconds before it was swept away, he grabbed the Palutena Bow and yanked it—along with the idiot clinging—and flew forward. Twinbellows was knocked off its feet and into the flow, its fire dousing in a massive puff of steam. Dark Pit landed several feet on a low cliff.

"Are you okay?" he asked Pit, who was kneeling on the ground. He dragged himself up with a weak chuckle.

"My clothes aren't," he said, indicating his heavily charred robes. They looked out when Twinbellows moaned and found it trying and failing to rise to its paws. Pit suddenly let out a little noise. "This. This is." Pit's eyes roamed the battlefield constantly like he was caught in some sort of dream. "I'm unsatisfied."

"You're what?" Dark Pit wanted to give Pit a break, he really did, but the kid was grinding his nerves and he was two seconds away from plucking him. "I've already put my feathers on the line taking you out here against your goddess' wishes, and you have the nerve to be unsatisfied? Sorry, did you want me to throw you into Twinbellows' maw instead?"

"No, that's not…it…" Pit trailed off and didn't continue. Dark Pit stepped closer, frustration melting into concern, and Pit suddenly pitched forward; Dark Pit glided the remaining distance to prevent him from face planting on the ground.

"Pit? Pit!" Pit remained unresponsive for several seconds, and just when Dark Pit was really beginning to freak out, Pit's eyes fluttered open.

"…Why are you holding me?"

Dark Pit dropped Pit, who hit the ground with a little oof. "She was right, you aren't well enough to be doing this," he said flatly, touching his fibula. "Palutena, take us back."

The extraction light surrounded them and lifted their wings to the heavens. Pit rolled over in midair and Dark Pit stared at his skinny back, the wings struggling to keep him aloft. "You really think this was a bad idea?" Pit said without looking at him. Dark Pit sighed.

"Yes, I do."

"I saw the fight, I had to come help."

"Pit—" He paused and looked harder at Pit's wings. A few of his underfeathers were black. Before, he would've thought it an insignificant side effect, but after the way Pit had acted… He hated it, but he had to speak with Palutena and Viridi. "Yeah, I understand, birdbrain."

Pit gave Pittoo a cross look and folded his arms. Then he smiled. "I forgot to say it earlier, but thanks for bringing me back."

Yeah, just hope it's not gonna bite me in the ass.

Palutena and Viridi were both waiting for their return. Palutena looked Pit over worriedly before sending him off to the hot springs. Dark Pit waited until he left hearing distance before facing the two goddesses.

"I'm guessing from your face that things didn't go all peachy," Viridi said. "Palutena doesn't want me to say I told you so…but I don't care. So. I told you so."

"Next time you want a bomb dropped on some playground, you do it yourself," Dark Pit said. Viridi huffed and turned her head.

"Dark Pit, please, what happened out there?" Palutena asked. He shook his head.

"I don't know… He was just, just weird most of it. If I had to describe it…I'd say he was more like me than anything." A little more caustic, certainly more forceful, and…Pit would never threaten another person's life. No way. But neither would Dark Pit—at least, he wouldn't do it unprovoked. He certainly wouldn't have threatened Pit in such a way. But if he had to say that Pit was even worse than him…no, he couldn't. He shook it off and pulled his wings tight against his shoulder blades. "He's more blockheaded than before, but he still went and stuck his neck out to fight the Underworld Army. He's fine, just a little different than expected."

I'm damaged goods, they said. What happens when half a soul is split in two?

"I'm going to go find him, make sure he's alright." Dark Pit dismissed himself and turned away, ignoring their whispered conversation behind his back. Things would be okay…they had to be.

Pit was at his hot spring stripped down to his short, drifting lazily on his back in the golden water. His eyes were lidded as they focused on Dark Pit. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, looking at the bundle in his hands.

"I couldn't find any of your robes, so here's one of mine." He set it on the grass and sat down. Pit hummed appreciatively.

"Don't you wanna soak?"

"Nope."

"Well suit yourself." Pit rolled over and ducked his head beneath the surface. Dark Pit stared at his wet wings and the stark black feathers stared back. Maybe it was the lack of adrenaline in his veins, but he could count more now than there were before. His mouth skewed and he looked at his feet. He had spent far too many hours sitting in this same spot mourning Pit; it was foolish to do the same when Pit was there in front of him, alive and whole.

"Actually…count me in." He shrugged off his robes and arm bracers. He kicked off his sandals and stepped into the water, pumping his wings to propel himself closer to Pit. "I didn't tell you how you came back, did I?"

Pit raised an eyebrow. "No, you didn't get to." Dark Pit told him about Pandora and the Mirror of Truth. At the end of it Pit let out a long breath and shrugged. "You're right, that was pretty dumb. But it worked out didn't it? I'm here, Lady Palutena's happy, Viridi is as happy as she'll get…I think it worked out."

"Yeah." They floated in silence for a few minutes, just feeling the healing water, until Dark Pit moved to the shore. "I'm feeling like a game of Smash."

"Sure." Pit stepped onto the grass and went to one of the supporting columns where a store of towels was sheltered inside. He dried his hair and flapped his wings a bit to get them fluffed up; several feathers came free and the black ones were more obvious than ever.

"Pit, did you notice you have some black feathers?" Dark Pit decided to address the elephant in Skyworld. Pit blinked and pulled the tip of his wing around with his fingers, examining the underside.

"…Yeah, I guess you're right." And that was that. He picked up the robes Dark Pit brought and slipped them over his head. "Hey, how do I look?"

Dark Pit frowned and grabbed a towel of his own. "Don't know, don't care."

"Hey, don't be like that." He looked up to see Pit had already moved ahead of him. "Come on, last one gets the beat-up Joy-Con." He turned and raced forward, flapping his wings for a little speed, and Dark Pit's frown deepened. There definitely were more black feathers than before. But what did it mean?

"That Palutena's Guidance stuff was really on the nose," Pit remarked as the GAME screen appeared. "Whoever wrote the script really knows his stuff."

"Says you. I only had three lines." Pit laughed while Pittoo kept his eyes on the results. His Bowser lost to Pit's Little Mac. The odd thing was Pit never played Little Mac before. Now, he'd never played Pit in Smash beforehand, but for all the challenges Pit gave him, he only ever swore by Yoshi and Olimar—Palutena, too, said Pit was atrocious with those two yet he never tried another character. So how was he suddenly an expert in an entirely different class of a character? And it wasn't a fluke either; he'd been losing for the last four hours. The sky had long since turned dark from when they began.

"Also, definitely my best voice acting," he continued. "You sounded a little gruff."

"Shove it." Part of his surliness arose from the fact that in giving Pit his last clean robes, he had nothing to wear but the centurion tunic. He retaliated by plucking one of Pit's black feathers. Pit yelped in surprise.

"Hey, you shove it!" He shoved Pittoo off his bed and he hit the ground in a heap. He grabbed one of Pit's pillows and threw it at his face. He stood up and went to the television.

"Anyway, I'm going to—"

He froze, and the Palutena Bow embedded itself into the screen blade first, shattering it into hundreds of tiny glass bits. A little piece cut his cheek and he touched the wound in surprise, turning to Pit. The angel in question was frozen as well, eyes wide and wings on end, then he sat back and curled them in tight.

"I just," he paused, "Don't do that again."

The pillow or the feather? he thought, but just as with Palutena, he couldn't vocalize. He nodded and left without another word, and as he trekked back to his unofficial room, he was forced to face facts: something was wrong with Pit. Now, how was he going to explain it to the goddesses?

He was lying in bed mulling it over when Palutena's frantic voice suddenly filled his head: "Pittoo, Pit just ran off!"

"He what?" he said, flummoxed at first.

"He took his bow and just left through his window. I didn't give him the Power of Flight and neither did Viridi. He also took off his fibula." He ground his teeth—was Pit trying to run away? "I'm begging you, please go after him."

"On it." Dark Pit got up, laced his sandals, strapped on his bow and was already heading to the exit doors. He could hear Palutena's faint cries in the back of his mind and grimaced. This whole thing was turning into one massive shitshow. He should have thought it through better. For now, he had to rectify the problem he created.

He leapt through the doors and with the Power of Flight he was cutting through the starry night sky. He had always had a faint sense of Pit's location, and though Pit never said as much he assumed it was mutual—this time, he sensed Pit farther to the east than he had ever been. He followed his instincts and shot across the sky.

"Soo," Viridi said, "what's the plan, Inkling?"

"The plan is to get Pit back."

"And theennn?" She sounded far too amused for the situation and he snapped at her. "Well, bringing him back is short-term, isn't it? Whatever's going on with him will still be there when you get back."

"I don't know. Shut up. I'll figure it out."

"I hope you do." And she left with that.

The pull between the angels grew stronger and Dark Pit's Power of Flight was down to less than a minute. Luckily it didn't seem to matter much, for the land ahead was wrought with massive brambles shining a sickly greenish grey in the moonlight. Another Reset Bomb Forest, it seemed, but even older than the last one; there wasn't even the tiniest hint of human interaction.

As he lowered himself to the earth he spotted strange shadows scattered across the dirt. The moon brightened and he realized they were the fresh bodies of Underworld enemies peppered with arrows; they had already begun to dissolve into Hearts, but it meant Pit hadn't gotten there too long ago. He hit the ground as his wings returned to normal size and tripped over something surprisingly corporeal. He rose to his rear with a groan and looked over what he fell—and his heart stopped cold.

T…That's a human.

Granted, a human speared through with a Monoeye like a kabob, but a human nonetheless. He slowly rose to his feet and looked around the battlefield more closely. There were some more humans, less than a dozen who appeared to have been caught in the crossfire. He swallowed and stepped carefully around their bodies to the cluster of forestry. There was a small entry point close to the ground; he lowered himself to his belly and crawled through.

The same as before, barely any light could shine through, just enough for him to see his fingers right in front of his face. His bow caught on a low hanging branch and he suddenly wondered why he brought it. He didn't expect to fight Pit…did he? Sure, if it came down to it, he would bonk some sense into that empty head, but a real fight—no, he couldn't. He couldn't. Everything had just become so terrible so quickly and he couldn't handle it.

He continued crawling until more light was shining through the small tunnel. He could make out a clearing at the end and picked up the pace until he could see into the forest. There was a large mossy rock at the center where Pit was perched, his wings folded in tightly and his head down. The bow was dangling loosely from his fingers as Dark Pit came into view.

"Pit, what happened?" He jumped a little in surprise, eyes wide in the moonlight. Suddenly Dark Pit realized they weren't quite blue; there were some flecks of red in there that made them more lapis colored. "What are you doing? What happened out there?"

"What, the Underworld Army? I destroyed them. That's what I do."

"But there were humans too."

"They were in the way," he shrugged. "I didn't want to, but they were." Pittoo's eyes narrowed.

"Pit wouldn't do that."

"So what, you're saying I'm not me?" He laughed aloud until he realized Pittoo wasn't following along. Pit stood up with the bow clenched tightly in both hands. "I am Pit," he said, glaring down at the other. "Servant to the Goddess of Light."

"Then why did you run away from her?" he challenged. Pit started to avert his eyes, then he raised his chin.

"I had to fight. It was…I just had to."

"Like you had to throw that blade at my hand, or had to threaten my life if I dragged you back to Skyworld. Do you see yourself, what you're doing? It's pretty messed up from my point of view."

"Who are you to tell me wrong from right?" he continued.

"Don't know, really. All I can say for sure is things aren't the way they're supposed to be. Here I am, dressed like a centurion, and there you are…the black angel."

A shadow passed over Pit's face as his wings stretched overhead. They were thickly mottled with black, so much that the white feathers were more like accents. "Leave," he said, raising the Palutena Bow, "or else."

"And there you go again with the threats. Don't worry, I'm not here to threaten you." Dark Pit split his bow into blades. "I'm bringing you back one way or another, and that's a promise."

Pit unleashed a volley of highspeed arrows that would've sent any human soldiers running for their lives. Pittoo deflected them smoothly with his two blades before lunging forward, tackling Pit from his rock and to the grass below. Pit gained the upper hand and Dark Pit struggled with his blades to keep the Palutena Bow from plunging into his ribcage; he brought up a foot and dug it into Pit's gut, sending him flying backwards with a heavy whump. Pit rolled to his feet instantly and launched an arrow with a massive energy trail. Dark Pit launched an arrow of his own and their collision led to a huge burst of wind which flattened all the surrounding trees. Leaves filled the air and rained down on them.

"What's the point of this?" Dark Pit said. "We are copies, even matches to one another."

Pit didn't respond, instead launching a blade of the Palutena Bow like a javelin once again. Dark Pit's left wing was pinned to the rock and he bit down a cry of pain. He yanked the sword free when Pit rushed him and slammed it against his intended swipe, cracking both blades. He twirled the Silver Bow in his free hand and cut a clean line of Pit's fringe before he managed to leap backwards. The lack of hair bared his raging expression to the moonlight.

Dark Pit loosed several tracking arrows that Pit easily avoided, circling the clearing before scaling the rock behind him. Dark Pit stumbled backwards when Pit pounced on him, his blades cutting into the dirt, then he threw himself up and forward in a wild flurry of disorganized slashes. Dark Pit struggled to parry with his own swords; this sloppy style was nothing he was used to, and he was being forced backwards. His heel caught on a rock and he tripped backwards, narrowly avoiding a slice that would've taken his head. Then, as his back hit the grass, he watched Pit's swords coming for his heart. He didn't think, didn't look who he was facing; he turned his blade out and struck.

Pit's blade slid heavy into the space between two ribs, just barely missing his lung but causing a few fractures. He missed Dark Pit's heart from the impact of the Silver Bow plunging into his gut. His eyes bugged.

"Pit—" Blood gushed from the point of impact, staining his hand and face before Pit fell forward onto the grass adjacent. Dark Pit struggled to sit up past the burning agony in his chest and rolled Pit onto his back. His face was screwed in pain and he was pressing both hands into the wound. When his eyes focused on Dark Pit he exploded into a wild series of expletives that would've made Viridi blush. It lasted for all of fifteen seconds before he ran out of breath and passed out cold.

"Pittoo?"

"Pittoo? What's the situation? Where is Pit?"

Déjà vu, Dark Pit thought with a sick laugh. "Palutena, take us back."

"Us?" she repeated, then fell silent as they were extracted.

They landed on the floor of Palutena's Temple with a whump. Centurions immediately rushed in, picking up Pit's still speared body and rushing him outside, presumably to the hot spring. Palutena knelt at Pittoo's side and helped him sit up. Her face was ashen and he gave her a small smile. "He's back. E-Excuse me if he isn't wh-whole." She helped him up and he pushed her away, pressing a hand to his damaged ribs. "I-I'm sorry. Th-This is all my f-fault."

"Pittoo—" She exhaled hard and wrapped her arms around herself. "I have to check on Pit. I just…we'll talk about this more when he's stable."

She turned away and hurried in the directions of the centurions. Dark Pit brought his knees up to his chest and bowed his face into them. His wings shielded him from the world when hot tears poured down his cheeks. "D-Dammit…dammit…"

Palutena was…occupied, so it was up to Viridi to get Dark Pit's side of the story, so she said. Dark Pit was content to just stay under the sheets and avoid the world.

"No one's blaming you for anything, ya know," she said with a sigh. "We just want the full story."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk. So beat it."

Viridi gave a much more dramatic sigh and Dark Pit's ankle was suddenly trapped in some thorny vise grip. He was yanked upside-down via a thick piece of ivy that had grown through the window and onto the ceiling. Viridi tapped his nose with her staff, eyes narrowed. "We dropped it before when you claimed Pit was fine. Now your sword's getting deeply acquainted with his insides. Something's missing here and you're the one that needs to clear it up."

His ribs felt like rolling hot coals in his chest and he was having some difficulty catching his breath. He might have cried if he felt like he had any tears left. "He tried to kill me."

"What? I couldn't hear you."

"He tried to kill me!" he shouted, looking Viridi right in the eyes. "He tried to kill me three times—this time, if I hadn't stabbed him, he would've done it. I saw in his eyes, he would've done it."

Viridi's eyes widened and for once the goddess was completely speechless. The vine unraveled and Dark Pit hit the bed in a heap; he groaned at the spike of pain from the impact. She sat heavily in a nice chair and brushed her hair from her eyes. "So," she said at length, "what shall we do?"

"I don't…rrgh…know."

"Actually, I was giving the illusion of choice. I know what I'm doing." She mimed slicing her throat and Pittoo growled.

"No, you're not."

"And if I don't then what, he'll come in for lucky try number four? Well, whatever; I know Palutena will want him to talk when he's well enough, and I'm sure as hell gonna be there to see it. Have fun writing your will." She stood and twirled her staff before disappearing in a flurry of leaves and a gust of wind.

Silence. A world of silence.

Days, weeks, perhaps even months later, Dark Pit woke in the dead of the night to see a winged figure crouched on the windowsill. Luminescent violet eyes turned to meet his.

"Hey," Pit said softly. Dark Pit nodded but couldn't find his words. Those black and white wings fluttered uneasily before wrapping around his bandaged torso. "I'm…sorry for trying to stab you."

"Are you really?" he snapped without thinking and hated himself for doing so. Pit frowned in the moonlight, eyes lowered.

"I don't know, but it seems the right thing to do. Apologizing."

Dark Pit sat up from the tangle of sheets. "Apologies mean nothing unless you understand what you did wrong."

"I do. At least, Lady Palutena told me. Something's…I'm not right, am I? I'm not the Pit you guys knew. I can see it in your eyes…you're disappointed." Dark Pit shrugged a shoulder, fighting to keep his face blank. Pit sighed. "I want to ask something." His eyes returned to Pittoo's, searching, wanting something. "What's wrong with me?"

"Who knows?" It was painful to admit, but there it was. Pit's wings tightened around himself. "But, Pit, running off isn't an answer."

"'Else what? I stay and endure this…these looks you guys give me?" he spat. "I'm not who you want me to be. No one ever went around forcing you to be Pit, right?"

"Well no one went around trying to impale me." His fists, previously knotted in the sheets, balled against his sides, and he threw the blanket aside to stand on his feet, wings taut against his back. "Pit—and that's who you are, you are still Pit—I don't care if you're a walking talking eggplant. What those goddesses were saying before…they said you might not have a soul at all. But they said the same thing about me, and look! I would risk my own life to save yours, because you went and did so for me. Your light is what sustains my shadow."

"So what do you expect me to do? Change to fit your mold?"

"Pit, I want to ask you something. Why did you try to kill me?" He struggled to maintain eye contact and so did Pit, but Pit was the first to look away, turning until he could sit with his back to the window. With his face in the shadows Dark Pit couldn't be sure, but it seemed his eyes were glistening.

"I'm sorry."

"Pit. Answer."

"I ju—I don't know! I was upset…every time, you'd upset me, and I j—I just wanted to cause some damage. Burn off steam."

"Even if the thing you're damaging is me?"

He turned his head away. "Made no difference to me. I guess that makes me depraved."

"It wasn't right," Pittoo agreed.

"Therein lies the problem. I don't know right from wrong, not anymore. Is this what it's like, lacking a soul? Feeling empty and lost all the time? Is this what you felt like, Dark Pit?" He looked at Pittoo again and this time he was certainly crying. Dark Pit smiled bitterly; at least he had some emotional capacity.

"More or less."

"…Can it really be fixed?" His voice was as soft as a breeze. Pittoo sighed and moved to sit next to Pit.

"You won't be the same. None of us will be, I guess. But it can be fixed, and you will be fine. And if not…well, I'll always be here. You'll have to try a lot harder to kill me, birdbrain."

"Promise?" He didn't know if Pit meant promising to fix him or promising not to die; either way, he had no plans on reneging on either. He set a hand on Pit's forearm, squeezing hard.

"Promise."

Pit stared at Dark Pit's hand for a long moment, lost in his thoughts. Then the corner of his lip twitched. "Should we hug now?"

"I'd rather not."

"But," he said sagely, eyes shining, "it would be the Pit thing to do."

He rolled his eyes so hard he thought they would pop out. "If it makes you feel better—"

He couldn't speak when Pit trapped him in a tight bear hug, his multicolored wings wrapped around Pittoo's head. He wanted to complain, but…his scent. Pit always sort of smelled like freedom, if he had to put it into words; a combination of sweet wild grass, tangy hot spring water, lemony laundry soap, and the clearness of the open sky. Though they said this Pit didn't have a soul, the smell was still there, and it was so poignant it made Pittoo's eyes cloud with tears. He sniffed as subtly as he could, but being next to Pit's ear, the boy noticed.

"Hey, Pittoo, are you crying?" he asked.

"I'm—shut up. Hug me."

"I am already," he said smartly, but complied anyway.

Pit was training on the grass, effortlessly sliding through various combat maneuvers with the Palutena Bow. It would have been nothing out of the ordinary if his wings weren't mottled black and his eyes shone violet in the sunlight. Palutena gripped her elbows and hummed with disconcert.

"Are you sure about this, Dark Pit?" she said softly, though he wouldn't be able to hear them from the gates of the palace.

"Not particularly," he said, seated on the windowsill and polishing the Silver Bow. "But I don't plan on offing another Pit."

"That may be so, but…"

"I believe things'll work out. I may not be an all-seeing goddess or whatever, but I'm walking proof." He slid to the tiled floor and strapped the bow across his back, joining Palutena in the doorway. Their shadows fell across the grass, not equal in size nor status. "Pit's the one who made me more human. The least I can do is return the favor."

She still seemed doubtful but held her grievances and tongue. Viridi, however, had so such qualms. Should he become a threat, he'll know the power of nature, she said with no traces of her usual dispassion or sarcasm—it was nothing short of a promise. So make sure I don't have to, Dark Pit.

"Put a seed in it," he replied, stepping onto the grass. "Gods and goddesses, you get hung up on the wrong things. That kid is no less an annoying pest than he was before, 'cept he's almost good enough to beat me in a swordfight. But he'll come to find," he grinned darkly, drawing the bow and holding the blade out, "a centurion is no match for a real black angel."

He ran out onto the green calling, "Yo, Pit, right here and now!" Pit, a bit out of breath from his training, nodded, and with a mutual grin, the two angels descended into a match of blows. Evenly matched, a show with no end in sight, a dance of two halves struggling to reform. But they would reform, that, Pittoo was confident in, for there was no shadow that could be without a source of light.

#kid icarus #kid icarus fanfiction #Kid Icarus Uprising #angst #tragedy #fanfiction

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linkspooky · 5 years ago

Text

Icarus: The Fall of Hawks

The system also tells him to ignore people he can save if he thinks it will be more beneficial in the long run. But Ultimately, Hawks continues to put his trust in the people that are using him, because he sees no escape and no alternative.

The icarus symbolism surrounding Hawks character is already a common fandom theory, but I decided to give a comprehensive take. The closest thing I could find to an original post on this theory was: this one.

The winged hero Hawks draws many mythological allusions to the boy Icarus most famous for flying too close to the son causing his wax wings to fall apart.

Son of Daedalus who dared to fly too near the sun on wings of feathers and wax. Daedalus had been imprisoned by King Minos of Crete within the walls of his own invention, the Labyrinth. But the great craftsman's genius would not suffer captivity. He made two pairs of wings by adhering feathers to a wooden frame with wax. Giving one pair to his son, he cautioned him that flying too near the sun would cause the wax to melt. But Icarus became ecstatic with the ability to fly and forgot his father's warning. The feathers came loose and Icarus plunged to his death in the sea.

The story is inextricably linked to Hawks’ character, foreshadowing that his two flaws, his admiration of Endeavor (the sun) and his habit of flying too fast will cause him to fall into villainry.

1. Hawks: Set Up by the Hero Commission to take the Fall

Foreshadowing occurs in a literary text when the author gives clues and hints about what is to come in the story. That in itself is pretty well known, but there’s more to it than just giving hints. It has a lot to do with the way stories are structured. Basically, stories are all composed of set up and pay off.

Foreshadowing is not just for cheeky hints or setting up which characters might die, it’s a sign that the author as a whole has the story planned out. The reason that scenes in stories get an emotional reaction out of us as readers, is because authors set up these characters as somethnig for us to get invested in, build up those emotions, and then eventually pay them off on the expectations we have built up.

Which is why when reading stories a general good strategy is analyzing What does the author want me to think? What are they trying to lead me to? Ideas are introduced, developed and get paid off more and more as the story progresses. A good story will continue building up these ideas with the intention of leading them somewhere, which makes them purposeful. This goes hand in hand with the concept of chekhov’s gun, that is every idea that the story spends time on will eventually become meaningful in some way.

'Chekhov's Gun' is a concept that describes how every element of a story should contribute to the whole. It comes from Anton Chekhov's famous book writing advice: 'If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired.

To wit: The reason why all this icarus symbolism is surrounding Hawks is not just because he’s a cool flashy character that’s popular, he’s actually one of the most important characters in the story right now tied to the flaws and exploitations of the hero system that Horikoshi has been setting up since chapter one in the manga with this line. People are not born equal, that’s the hard truth I learned at age four.

Here’s a quick example of developing ideas in the story especially tied to Hawks. The first time we here Destro is when Gentle explains about him as one of the legendary villains he aspires to be like, the arc before Hawks is introduced as a character.

The next arc after the school festvial arc, Destro’s book is shown as inspiring one person the same way it did Gentle while hawks is talking with Endeavor.

After the class A vs B arc, in the My Villain Academia arc not only do we learn that Destro has a son and followers that are still alive, but at the end of the arc Hawks is shown interacting with the liberation followers. Ideas are introduced, developed to give them more depth, and most importantly they always show up linked to Hawks.

Why does Hawks always up in association with Destro? Esepcially when hawks is not a quirk supremacist like the rest of the MLA. It’s because as a character, Hawks’ deepest desire is liberation, and yet it’s also the thing that he’s furthest from. The character with wings who can freely fly in the sky, is chained down with the most responsibility.

There are two important pieces of foreshadowing in Hawks’ introduction chapter. First that he shows a dissatisfaction with the current hero system around him, and a tendency to see through others especially when they are putting on airs.

The second is this shot in particular, the spotlight in the background like a sun in the center of the sky with Hawks ascending towards it and losing feathers the same way Icarus would.

The other most important detail from this chapter is how Hawks is described. Not only did he make the top ten in his teens which makes him a young man like Icarus in the story, there’s also the oft repeated phrase with hawks - He goes too fast. Going too fast, flying too high, too quickly, these are all things that come come before Icarus’ fall. Special attention is drawn to how young he became a hero which we will get to later.

In chapter 186 there is a piece of foreshadowing used mainly as a joke, that also ties in with the idea of liberation with Hawks character mentioned earlier. This is a point taken from the meta linked at earlier, but considering what we now know about Hawks’ character that he is a kid raised by the hero system who has to kowtow to the higher ups this internal dialogue could easily resemble Hawks.

They key difference being Hawks never lets himself admit to having these feelings, or acts on them. He is much more concerned with keeping up his carefree facade.

From as far back as I can remember, I’ve lived my life as a bootlicker. It’s been suffocating.

While the scene itself is a joke, the connection to Destro’s book and the idea of liberation are both themes that connect strongly to Hawks. Another connection is a similiar scene that took place in Vigilantes which directly references Icarus in the same context, a man getting naked as a part of his quirk. Vigilantes is the canon prequel of My Hero Academia and has several plotlines important to the main story, even Aizawa’s canon backstory so this is highly relevant.

Once again this is set up as a gag but my flight is a forbidden one is an idea that could easily relate to Hawks. After all, Hawks has wings and yet cannot use them for himself, and cannot take flight on his own because he is under the thumb of the Hero Commission.

The way Hawks’ powers work is also important. He has feathers that give him wings that can fly, and yet because he is able to autonomously move his individual feathers we see him often giving up his feathers for other people and multitasking for several people at once. Quirks are often a metaphor for their users, Hawks has wings to fly, but his feathers don’t belong to him, the more he gives up for other people the more he loses his wings.

When Hawks uses all of his feathers he is unable to fly anymore and starts to fall, the same way the wax melted and the feathers flew apart the only thing Icarus could do was plummet.

Hawks feathers also become useless to his when they burn up. This, and the cover page featuring Endeavor burning his wings up not only sets up an eventual conflict with Endeavor, but one that Hawks’ quirk will most likely be weak to the flames.

The scene with Dabi. Hawks is introduced to us with the light backlighting him as he ascends towards it. Now, in the conclusion of this arc, the light in the background of the scene is where Dabi moves towards while Hawks himself covered in shadow walks away from light and descends into the dark foreground.

There are also two more joking points of foreshadowing in this chapter, both setting up an eventual confrontation with Hawks and Endeavor. The first is Endeavor noticing the suspicious timing, and the second is Endeavor threatening to roast him which he has threatened at several times already. Even if it’s a joke it’s a serious threat, Endeavor has been characterized as someone incapable of handling his emotions and lashing out in violence several times in the past.

Not only is Hawks set up to fall however, the hero commission sets him up to fall as well. A one man investigation into the League of Villains as a double agent. The hero commission outlines it for him, he will receive no back up, and nothing in return for his service. There is already a team set up by the commission to fight the league of vision, but they came to Hawks specifically for this reason. He works alone. He cannot say no to them. They knew before asking him he was already going to say yes.

It’s a situation where the Hero’s commission has nothing to lose and everything to gain. Hawks will either fall or fly completely on his own. If the villains kill him, they lose a hero but that’s it. If Hawks messes up his mission and gets caught, the commission can pretend that he really did turn traitor and abandon him. Hawks is completely expendable to them, and yet any information he can grasp is valuable. At the same time, Hawks has everything to lose and nothing to gain. Being a hero is Hawks entire life. He literally has no name outside of his hero name. As stated above he could easily be abandoned by the hero commission if the mission fails, and yet at the same time the only thing Hawks gets out of this is the idea that some people will be saved by his actions. Even though he is specifically instructed not to do anything to save people in front of him if it would jeapordize the mission.

While yes, Heroes working to save people and sacrificing themselves for the sake of others is a good thing, hawks always sacrifices himself all the time. Being a hero not only consumed his whole childhood, but also his life. This is not Hawks volunteering to do it on his own, this is him being given a mission he cannot refuse and going along with it.

The hero commission sets Hawks up to fall in their place. Hawks gives up his wings for them, and because of that he falls instead of flying.

2. Flaw: His Trust in Endeavor and the System as a Whole

Hawks is a child that was taken in by the hero commission and abused by them. Hence the reason why he was such a young rising star is because he had no childhood to speak of. The only way his family could be uplifted out of poverty was if he followed the track they provided for him. He is treated like a prodigy, but really he spent all of his time as a hero, and was given no other option but to become a hero.

Which is why Hawks admiration of Endeavor is ironic, considering that Endeavor attempted to do the same thing to his own son. Not raise his son with love and care, but rather breed him, train him since he was a child, and raise him not as his own person but as a hero to be used for his father’s ambitions. Hawks, Shouto, both of them were reduced to the powerful quirks they had and not treated as people. Which reflects the point that the Meta Liberation Army could have had if they were not quirk supremacists, that quirk society being dominated by strong, flashy quirks, and judging people by those quirks ends up limiting the path ways people can take in life.

This contradiction makes sense when you take into account Hawks’ upbringing. Hawks has a complex reaction to his abuse. He genuinely does want to save other people as he works himself to the bone doing it, and yet he’s also aware the hero system is using him. Part of Hawks resents the hero system, and yet Hawks is also a product of that system who still reflects the ideas he was raised on whether he wanted to or not.

This is why Hawks comes off as being such a two-faced person. He’s in a lot of major ways, in denial about his own place in life. He acts casual and friendly, and yet he’s more burdened and more isolated than anyone else. He deflects almost everything other people throw his way with humor, isolating himself even further. He also contradicts himself quite a lot, he calls out Endeavor onstage and then in the next scene he says he was doing that for Endeavor’s sake. Both are probably true, Hawks resents the hero system, but he also has to have the appearance of a friendly, willing to help others hero, because that’s the only way he’s survived so far. He likes to keep himself aloof and unattached to others because that is literally the only freedom he can grasp yet.

When Hawks says he never was a big fan of All Might, it’s most likely because Hawks sees himself in All Might. The idea of someone who as a hero is forced to save absolutely everyone and have the entire peace of the country resting on only their shoulders, only to be used until they break down is a nightmare to Hawks.

Not only does Hawks not want to be shouldered with the responsibility, not because he’s lazy, but because he knows how exploitative it is but he also does not see himself of ever being able to carry that much. The hero system that Hawks was raised on made him believe that a brute firepower quirk like Endeavor’s that is good for defeating villains is what will put people most at ease, not the constant saving of others, or interactions with people, or the creative use of his quirk that Hawks employed.

Not only is Hawks whole life defined by his quirk, but he is also taught that his quirk is not good enough. The only person who will put other people at ease, is a quirk like All Might’s. Only an extremely powerful quirk that’s suited best for fighting villains.

Hawks even says he does not want to take up the role of All Might, and it’s in part due to his feelings of ineriority, but also his want to escape his life and find some small freedom. Which is when Endeavor, the embodiment of the toxicity of hero society says that he hates guys like Hawks the most. Even though Hawks’ intentions here are pretty clear, instead of trying to step down and let Endeavor take the spotlight and support him from the shadows. Endeavor represents the individualism of hero society, but Hawks is trying to play support. He was raised by hero society, but also Hero Society actively condemns the kind of person that Hawks is.

Once again we see the contradictions in Hawks behavior. He is one of the most selfless heroes in the series as he continually lets himself be used, and yet Hawks pretends that he’s a coward who does not put himself on the line, or fight directly risking his own life.

It’s not just putting on an act, Hawks is also taught to believe that if he stays back adn plays support, if he does not defeat the villain head on with a violent quirk that he is weaker.

Which is why despite representing the exact kind of opposite hero that Endeavor is, he turns out to be a fan of Endeavor. This is because Endeavor is everything Hawks was taught that he was should be, but not. Endeavor fights for number one, he has a powerful quirk, he has the highest villain defeat record. All the things which Endeavor values are the things the hero system values, whereas Hawks believes he’s selfish for wanting a little personal autonomy for himself.

Endeavor is able to be strong in a way that Hawks never will be, because Hawks is not nearly as selfish as Endeavor is. Of course he does not see the victims of Endeavor’s actions quite yet, so he would mistake that for Endeavor able to make his willpower a reality in a way that Hawks cannot and gave up trying to do.

It’s not just putting on an act, Hawks is also taught to believe that if he stays back adn plays support, if he does not defeat the villain head on with a violent quirk that he is weaker.

Hawks is a victim of the hero system, and even is able to see its flaws, but due to his own taught inferiority, and how much he lets himself be used for the sake of helping others he cannot see himself as a victim or change it from the inside in any meaningful way.

Not only that but he fails to see the important flaws in someone like Endeavor, and isntead chooses to still believe that the hero system is ultimately in the right because they are on the side of saving people. Icarus is a tale of self destruction. Hawks is selfless to a self destructive extent. He keeps letting himself be used by people who see him as nothing more than an asset to them, because he believes it to be for the greater good. However, the current system always utilizes people like Hawks, vulnerable, expendable, Hawks is always the one who has to sacrifice his own personal freedom even though he has given his entire life to the system.

The system also is not as interested in saving people as it is in numbers, look how it talks about giving their all to rescue a kidnapped boy as some kind of failure of priorities. As if it was wrong to immediately try to help a child.

3. Flaw: The Man Who Flies too Fast Alone

Hawks always contradicts himself, despite the fact that he’s obviously much better as a support and rescue type hero, Hawks always fights alone. His biggest flaw is how much he always takes on himself, the fact that he flies too fast.

Hawks is aware of the fact that he is used by the system. There are several signs that Hawks is actually a manipulative person. Not in the sense that he is a bad person who tries to use others, but rather he developed the ability to manuever and manipulate other people as a way to cope and find what little freedom an security he could. His personality is a big indicator because Hawks almost never shows his true face and is almost always deflecting. He makes it hard for others to get a read on him by being such a two-faced person, which grants them less control over him and him a little bit more freedom.

At the same time Hawks is shown repeatedly to have information then others expect him to have. Endeavor gets surprised when he mentions Shoto, and the Hero’s commisison gets surprised when he is already aware of the team investigating Kurogiri and yet he never reveals his source on either occasion.

Instead once again he falls back on his common strategy of deflection to stop them from pressing on the issue. Hawks is someone who wants to rely on others more because he feels powerless on his own. Yet, at the same time Hawks has been taken advantage of so many times it’s impossible for him to trust others. Not only that, but Hawks has also been taught that he should be strong enough to do everything on his own, that is the individualism hero society promotes.

This is also how Hawks had to be in his early life. The only reason his family got money was because he was of use to the hero commission. He always had to be at the top of his class, always had to be useful, always had to finish on his own. Hawks always does things on its own because it’s a learned habit, he’s never had anybody else to rely on. Not only that but his way of living has always been unstable he might have been dropped back into poverty if he did not continually rise to meet the expectations of others.

Which is where we are presented with yet another contradiction of Hawks character, he is always working all by himself, but he only ever works for the sake of others. His only selfish desire is some time off for goodness sake. He is blessed with tremendous talent but has never been able to use it for himself, because since childhood he has been put to work for the sake of other people.

Hawks also says that he took Tokoyami on as an intern because he wanted information, which once again Hawks is constantly shown to be privvy to information he does not know and trying to collect more. This is because Hawks does not trust, because he cannot trust. He will be used by the other people around him. That is why he tries to seize as much information for himself as possible. Hawks being manipulative is just him trying to control what little he can, because if he does not do that then he ends up being the one who is controlled. The more knowledge he has, the more power he has.

People who feel helpless as a child due to circumstances entirely out of control will try to grasp for control in any way they can. That is why easygoing Hawks always does things on his own, because not having to rely on other people gives him more control. He can control himself, but not others. Easygoing Hawks is a bit of a control freak.

This scene becomes interesting if analyzed from that level. Hawks says he has no interest in training the next generation, it makes sense somebody who was raised from childhood as a hero and nothing else would probably have no interest in raising other children as heroes. His last line becomes much darker as well.

Those who can fly, should! Why keep yourself grounded?

Hawks is someone who keeps himself grounded all the time, always giving up his own freedom for others, and yet we see freedom is the thing he yearns for the most. He is intoxicated with the idea of freedom, the same way Icarus became intoxicated once he gained his wings and looked at the sun.

In his phonecall with Dabi we get a lot on Hawks’ internal monologue. First he admits to the fact that he plays happy-go-lucky idiot and lets people assume that they can use him, in order to control their perceptions of him. His way of manipulating others has always been to try to let them use him, instead of trying to make use of them because that is what Hawks has been taught. His value is that he is useful. He tries to navigate the system from the inside rather than breaking out. He keeps letting himself be used.

However, once again Hawks words to Dabi do not sound entirely like lies, or they could even be lies to himself. Being on this side of the equation helped me realize that we’d be better off without heroes and heroics. How much of that is a lie when Hawks was exploited into becoming a hero, when his deepest wish is to be allowed to be something else other than a hero for a little while?

It’s easy to see how Hawks got to the point where he seriously could consider Killing Best Jeanist. The people who are injured or taking time off are not useful to the system, they need to be sarcificed for the greater good. He was told by the same system to let people die if it would save more people in the long run, that he cannot be the hero he wants to be. That he has to dirty his own hands for the sake of everyone else. Hawks is constantly going against his own wishes to do what is right for other people.

Hawks says not to let a person’s resolve go to waste, because he believes that all of his determination, that all of his flying too fast is going to lead him somewhere. His determination is indeed a heroic quality, but it’s something that makes him keep sticking with the system rather than giving up on it. It’s something that makes him believe that he can overcome all of this on his own. However, no matter how hard Hawks works for the hero system, the only ones who have something to gain from it in the end is the hero system and not him. His hard work and determinations only guarantees he becomes more useful to them and will be used more.

In this light, Hawks’ belief that he can handle everything on his own is hubris, his determination to become such a good hero that he will get time off is a flaw. The only ersult is that Hawks is used more and more as a cog, and he grinds himself down further and further.

However, just like All Might could not save the entire country of japan all on his own shoulders forever, Hawks’ good boy act is also something that will not last him forever. The more he’s exploited the more he will break down. The ones to catch him when he falls is most likely not going to be the heroes system, because they are exploiting him and forcing him to work on his own because he is expendable that way. If he falls only he falls alone. Hopefully, when Hawks does fall, Dabi and the league will be there to catch him and sympathize with him in a way none of the heroes ever could.

#hawks icarus theory #icarus theory #mha meta #hawks icarus #hawks meta #hawks #my hero academia meta #meta

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

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9 years

Tuck Everlasting - Miles Tuck x Rose and Thomas and Anna, angst

tuck everlasting month 2020, day 16

A/N: so, first of all, i changed miles' canon age for when rose leaves. also, in the books miles has 2 kids - a boy, and a girl named anna. i, of course, decided to include her because miles with a daughter would have been perfect - exactly what he needed. the emphasis, however, lies in the word would...

Summary: But time has a way of changing things. Her mother had told her once, when she was young enough to wonder what the world had planned for her, that what’s hidden wants to be found. The more you tried to hide something, the more it would work to show itself in small but meaningful ways.

9 years.

Rose had known the Tucks for 9, long years.

She first met them when the family came into town, having just settled nearby, looking for men to help build their would be home. Even then, Angus Tuck was a self-made man. He knew how to build houses (after all, he had made their first home, before it burned down) and was only looking for help on account of his age. He was nearing fifty and wasn’t as spry as he used to be, so he decided he could use the help of another man - someone young, who could follow directions efficiently. Rose’s brother had fit the description perfectly, and a deal was struck: he would help the Tuck’s with building their home, and they would let him use their horse for farm work.

Rose had met Miles Tuck that day and believed they were kindred spirits, of sorts. He was just as bookish and quiet as she, and while he was blunt and occasionally harsh with his words, his heart was well-meaning and made up for his shortcomings. He was 2 years older than her, at the time, and when the Tuck’s departed, her brother teased her relentlessly.

The next morning, she joined her brother in going over to the Tuck’s homestead, helping Mae unpack her things and cook a large dinner for the men on an open fire. They bonded, speaking of literature and culture, technology and faith. Those days were simple and happy, spent bonding with a family she adored and learning about the world they had come from. There was quite a lot of world, beyond Treegap, New Hampshire, and to hear about it was fascinating.

After a long day’s work, the four men would eat as though they hadn’t seen food in years. They would thank Mae and Rose, praising their cooking, and would have a smoke afterward. Jesse would sneak off sometime before the pipes were pulled out, and Miles would drift away from Angus and Roses’ brother, not caring for conversations of hunting or fishing. Rose would sit beside him, quietly, and start up a conversation with Miles, the two smiling and laughing in the firelight.

When the cottage was finished, Rose helped Mae move the last of her valuables indoors and sighed. “I suppose I no longer have an excuse to come and bake with you.”

Mae had smiled, and there was something in her eyes that sparkled as though she knew a secret. “As long as Miles lives here, I’m sure you’ll find a reason or two.”

Rose had stuttered, thoroughly embarrassed by the older woman’s words, and Mae said nothing further on the matter. When she said goodbye to the Tuck’s, Rose couldn’t look Miles in the eye.

As they walked home, her brother looked at her with raised eyebrows. Rose shoved him and told him to shut up.

Miles had called on her a few weeks afterward, asking her if she’d like to take a stroll through town. She had smiled, then, admiring the redness in his cheeks and the sincerity in his tone. They courted for a year, and on a beautiful autumn day, they had gotten married.

They had vowed to love each other. They promised to stand by one another and let nothing come between them. They had sworn to be honest with one another, no matter what.

That had been 7 years ago. Rose was 22 and naive to the ways of the world.

Now, staring at her mother, a six year-old Thomas playing on the ground beneath her, and another baby kicking in her stomach, Rose had seen much more of the vast, unexplainable world. Her mother handed her a cup of tea and she sipped at it politely, trying to wonder how to begin.

Her mother had told her once, when she was young enough to not believe her, that what’s hidden wants to be found. The more you tried to hide something, the more it would conspire against you to show itself in small but meaningful ways.

Rose had thought her mother to be too faithful, then - too reliant on the universe working in her favor. Then she had met the Tucks, and throughout the years, she learned bits of their secret.

“Nothing could make me love him less.”

“Of course, not.” Rose’s mother sat across from her at the table, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes heavy with wisdom. “You are his wife, after all.”

Rose nodded. She had never questioned her vows. She loved him and had no secrets. But something ate at the back of her mind, gnawing at her, asking her if perhaps Miles had broken his.

“But you are a mother and every mother loves her child more than anything else.”

Rose looked at her boy - his dark curls falling into wide eyes, his cheeky smiles and soft hands. “I would do anything to keep Thomas safe.” Her hand went to her stomach, and the baby inside moved. “Anna, too.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

At first, there wasn’t much to question. The Tucks had come from out of town to settle, and no one knew their prior family. They joked that youth ran in the family. Jesse looked as though he hadn’t aged a day from when he met Rose, but that was because he was a boy and excitement held onto adolescence tightly. Mae was no younger than her own mother, and yet her hair maintained the same vibrant red of her younger years. Not a single hair turned silver to match the few she had when they first came to Treegap. Rose only ever seemed to get older with time, but motherhood was exhausting and easily deepended wrinkled and added crows feet to smooth skin. If she ever mentioned it, Miles would kiss her, saying she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and Rose would get lost in his love.

After a while, it was their health that Rose found peculiar. Angus and Mae were well into their fifties, approaching that heavy age where the world pulled them closer to the ground in which they would one day lay, leaving aches and pains in the morning, and tiredness in the evening. However, the couple never seemed to be bothered by time, and in the winter, when aches were at their worst and illness swept through the town like a breeze, the family stayed unaffected by the damp that set into their home or the draft that came under the doors.

What had frightened Rose the most, though were not trivial wrinkles or impeccable health. What had caused her to draw away from the family she had always loved and shook Rose to her core was Jesse’s fall.

When she thought about it later, she remembered how the sunlight seemed to bend around him like a halo, the branches falling with him like wings on his back - like an angel, her mother had said. Or, she said, in a quiet tone, like Icarus. A Greek tragedy - too reckless for this life, too young for his experiences.

Jesse should have died upon hitting the ground; a fall from that high, with his body hitting branches as he fell, his head bloody and his limbs lying at odd angles when he landed on the ground should have killed him. He was Icarus, after all, plummeting towards his grave. When he did not, the Tucks were relieved and Rose was, too. But she also had a mind that told her of mortal wounds - those injuries that people do not survive.

Something was broken that day, and it was not Jesse’s body.

Thomas had been four, then, still a toddler that needed a father to show him the way. Rose was still uncertain, in those days, believing in Miles and those vows she had made more than anything else in the world.

That was 2 years ago. She was 27 and growing fast.

Was she grown, now?

“What do I do?” She looked at her mother for guidance but already knew she did not want to hear her reply.

Amongst the Tucks was a fallen angel. They were no longer in God’s grace.

“You already know what must be done.”

“But I cannot.” Tears were welling into Rose’s eyes and she pushed them back, not allowing them to fall. Thomas had stilled in her games on the floor and stared at his mother, eyes wide and full of wonder. “I can’t leave Miles… I can’t leave my husband.”

“You’re not leaving Miles.” Her mother put her hands on top of Roses’. “You’re leaving The Adversary.”

“No...” Rose fell to the ground and wept. Thomas grabbed her skirts, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger. “They’re good people.”

“They’ve been claimed by evil.” Rose shook her head, but her eyes were filled with fear. “You have your children to think of. You must leave.”

“Where will I go?” Rose asked, her voice cracking, her head bowed.

Her mother leaned down to pick Rose off of the ground. Rose was sobbing still, her body shaking with effort, her breathing laboured and broken. Her mother smoothed her hair and let Rose cry on her shoulder. Thomas hugged his mother’s legs and patted her pregnant belly.

“Go to the Lord, Rose, and pray. It’s all you can do.”

…

Rose stared at the empty page beneath her and willed herself to write something down. She had loved Miles for 9, long years. She had been by his side all the while, never once believing him to be something dark and sinister.

When Jesse had fallen, Miles had been right there, calling out his brother’s name, holding the boy’s body to his chest. When Jesse’s eyes opened and he coughed up blood, the deep red dripping down his chin and staining his shirt, Miles had carried him to their home with tears of relief in his eyes. He had borne the burden of almost losing his brother, determined to not let anyone else suffer.

Rose had borne the burden of knowing that he shouldn’t have survived.

To the Tucks, Jesse’s prolonged life was a miracle. But Jesse’s life was heavy on Rose’s conscience - like a curse.

It was only fair, now, that Miles shared in her burden. A letter was the only way he could ever know the reasons for why she would do what she intended. Miles knowing why would explain her actions and the guilt of what she was to do would be his, as well.

She was going to explain herself - like a good, honest woman should. Honesty was one of her vows to him. Miles may have kept secrets and cast her in shadow, but she would shed light on her action and give him the honestly she promised one last time.

Rose was 29, now, and time was stealing away her life, one day at a time.

She could not wait any longer for another explanation to arrive. The rumors in town were insidious. The Tucks were an unnatural family. There was no other way - no other path she could take.

Rose looked at the grandfather clock that she had been given as a wedding gift. In only a few more hours, light would start to fill the house. She had to go, now. There was no time for explanations or apologies.

Rose stood and crept to where they kept their money box. She took what little they had, and prayed that the Lord would provide the rest. She turned, one last time, to look at her husband, pain in her eyes.

He was still 22, the same as they day they met, no changes made to his mortal body. He did not look like the evil he was supposed to be, but evil was a master at deception.

Her baby kicked and Rose held back a sob.

Stealing into Thomas’ room, Rose prayed to the Lord. She prayed for guidance, for strength, for something to make the bile in her throat lessen, something to make her actions feel like less of a betrayal.

Thomas woke at his mother’s touch, and she told him they were leaving. He asked her if papa was coming and a tear slipped down her cheek. She bent down to look him in the eye, and when she spoke, her words were thick with sorrow, but clear and low. “Not now, Thomas. We will see him again, one day, but not now.”

He didn’t understand, but followed where his mother led. Their footfalls were quiet, with the grace of God guiding them outside and into the night.

Rose had a destination in mind - somewhere Miles would never find them, somewhere where she would not see him at every street corner and in the aisles of a store. She thought of her life with him; her mind combed through those 9 years in a moment's hesitation and lingered on her mother’s words, spoken with gravity.

You already know what must be done.

Rose held Thomas’ hand in hers, the other resting on her pregnant stomach. Inside, the baby put her foot to where her mother held her. She knew what must be done for her children - there was nothing that was too difficult, nothing too unthinkable when done in their name. She prayed that one day, when she told Thomas of all that had been done, that he would not hate her for her actions, done in his name.

She did not look back at the farmhouse as she left. She had to leave Miles behind her. Still, she closed her eyes as she traveled into the night, the wind stinging her cheeks, damp with tears, and thought of the man she had met in Treegap, 9 years ago.

“Forgive me.”

#tuck everlasting #tuck everlasting musical #tuck everlasting broadway #tuck everlasting month #tuck month 2020 #miles tuck #thomas tuck #rose tuck #miles tuck x rose tuck #angst #imagine #one shot #fic #milestuckoneshot #thomastuckoneshot #rosetuckoneshot

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lesbiangemma · 4 years ago

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Hi Im going to rant about nostalgia for a bit because im experiencing Emotions and I dont have anyone to talk to about it.

I think the memory that started this was this camp I went to when I was 12. It was in the middle of a quiet forest with about 50 kids from school. We had little cabins and a big area in the middle with a campfire. This was when I was first discovering that I was a lesbian and I felt so alone and scared and confused. We did an activity where we stood in a big circle, the camp leader would say something and if we related to it, we step in the circle. Everyone would hold up their hands and do the sign for “I love you” in sign language to show their love and support.

Anyways, this went on for a little bit, and then the leader said “step in the circle if you are part of the LGBTQ community” and I was like, oh shit thats me. I was so scared I didnt want people to know, I felt like they would be against me and I was so alone. A couple kids stepped in and after a moment of hesitation I followed. I looked around and everyone in the circle raised their hands in support, showing they loved me for who I am. I immediately broke down in tears, I really wasnt alone. I felt loved

That night we walked to the campfire around 10;00 pm, and people sang songs around the fire. I stared up at the stars, there were so many, I heard the fire, the singing, the crickets, the breeze. The girl I liked at the time came and sat next to me, we watched the stars together before returning to our cabins.

The next night we got on the bus and headed home around 7:00 om, and two hours in the girl I liked put her head on my shoulder and we both fell asleep the whole ride home.

Another thing I remember was the Halloween events we would have in elementary school. We would be there until around 10:00 pm which was so exciting because I was never allowed to stay up that late. Me and my friends dressed up, and we all hung out on the swings together. I did the cake walk and won a delicious angel food cake with strawberry frosting, and fell asleep on the car ride home.

I miss when almost every friday nearly in 9th grade I believe, my best friend at the time would come over and we would play super paper mario together, he had to play most of it cuz I sucked at it. We ate cheese dip and drank arizona tea. We have drifted away because he got popular and I somehow got less popular than I already was. I miss it a lot and I really hope he doesnt read this.

I miss two years ago, my brother and I began to become friends as I got out of my depression and we talked for the first time in at least a year. The first time we really talked was when we went camping and two moths got into the tent and I started having a panic attack. My parents didnt understand my phobia and he immediately came to my defense, he looked out for me the rest of the trip and he still does.

I remember being at my grandmas old apartment, we would sleep there every saturday and binge TV shows with her for hours, and then I would stay up half the night playing tomodachi life and octopath traveler. I went to see my brother in the other room, and he told me that he wants me to play kid icarus, he really liked it and thought I would too. He got it for my birthday and we started playing it together. He had to beat most of it for me.

We went to this hotel with my parents, and when we werent doing much we would sit in the room and play kid icarus together. We started developing inside jokes, we started getting along well, I always laughed so much around him, I felt like for the first time we were really becoming friends. I miss sitting in his room and watching him play outer wilds for hours. He let me play at first, but i couldnt stop crashing like a dumbass so of course, he had to beat it for me. I remember crying my eyes out at the ending.

I miss playing minecraft with him, he was pit and i was tressa and we mostly messed around. I miss playing stardew valley with him too, all he did was fish but it worked. I miss playing raft with him and some of his friends occasionally, i miss playing octopath traveler with him. for once i had to beat the game because he sucked at it, sorry dude.

I dont know, Im listening to minecraft music and just really miss this. Maybe its because everything is so shitty right now that I wish I could go back to these happier, simpler times. But even if things are fucked up or not, I wish I could experience those again. I think I miss a lot of people that used to be in my life, it almost hurts to look back at, but at the same time I’m glad I experienced these things.

I think I’m scared for life to go on.

#if anyone read this thank you #it all sounds so stupid but i appreciate it #sorry for any typos im on desktop and never learned how to type #mimi’s memos

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angelsanarchy · 3 months ago

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Like A Pretty Boy: Gabe x Y/N Midi Series- PRT 3

Tagging: @icarus-star@kappasbbgirl@starry-eyed-wild-child@luzclarita57@bonesgirl11 @444rockstargf blondiezluvbrowniezpretty-girl-bloggfallin444niyaliquidsmoothdomme@rootin-tootin-pootinethical-cain-vinnell3viathan-sin666crowfullofwoe@8klil@spoilingthemilk @romanroyapoligist anakinskywalkerssgfzoloftsh4wtywomenloverlmaoberrymeringuepostselvira-aarseth @agornotsworld

Gabe stares at his sisters name on the phone screen again. She's called four times in the last two days. He really doesn't want to answer but he knows if he puts it off any longer, she might actually try and come to his apartment.

"This is Gabe." He answered with a sigh.

"Oh please don't try to sound so put out by answering a phone call from your sister." Ruth carried a tone as if Gabe thinking his time was important was a joke.

"Well you've called a million times, is something wrong?" Gabe asked not wanting this to be a long conversation.

"I want you to come and talk to Jared. I can't get him to talk to me about what happened in school and I figured maybe he would talk to you. David doesn't handle...those sort of things well." His sister explained.

"What? David doesn't remember being a teenage boy?" Gabe teased.

"No I just don't talk about my feelings like some fruit loop." Gabe heard David's voice over the line.

"You know it's polite to tell someone when they're on speaker phone." Gabe grumbled.

"Oh please don't talk to me about etiquette." Another swipe at him to try and put herself above him in some form or fashion. Ruth always did that. She never used to be like this but ever since Gabe decided to go to a more progressive college, she treated him like he was some sort of pretentious liberal asshole. She thought because she was married, lived on the other side of town and brought a kid into the world that somehow meant her life is more fulfilled.

He hadn't realized he had been ignoring her ranting while he got lost in this thoughts.

"Ruth...you're rambling. What's going on with Jared?" Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He was suspended from school. He won't tell me what happened and keeps blowing it off like it's no big deal but the way his ignorant liberal principal talked to me, it seems like she was calling him a white suprimist or something. Did you know one of his classmates came out as a lesbian. Can you believe that?" She said it with such disgust.

"So? What's that got to do with Jared?" Gabe asked confused.

"Well she might as well shoved it in his face like she's a freaking pre-teen, what the hell does she know about who she's sexually attracted to." Ruth had never talked to Gabe about his sexual preference. She just constantly told him he needed to get a woman in his life so he could settle down and become a real adult.

Apparently paying bills and having his own place wasn't adult enough. He needed to have a white picket fence in upper Manhattan with a wife and a job in finance apparently. All the things that Gabe loathed.

"Baby! I've got dinner!" Y/n called out from the front door and Gabe's stomach dropped.

"Baby? Was that your roommate?" Ruth asked confused.

"Yeah they were talking to the cat...Baby like the girl from Dirty Dancing." Gabe panicked as Y/n stood confused in the doorway as he tried to cover.

"Sounds like your roommate might be a bit fruity too." David said with a laugh.

"Look I will check the train schedule and see if I can come by sometime this week. It's an hour there and an hour back so don't get your hopes up okay?" Gabe said quickly.

"GABE! It's important! Your nephew needs you." Ruth practically shouted.

"Fine...I'll be there Wednesday." Gabe relented.

"Thank you little brother. I'll see you then." Ruth sounded accomplished as she hung up the phone after getting what she wanted. Gabe chucked his phone onto the bed and looked over at Y/n who stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

"So when did we get a cat? I mean I've asked for one for the last few months but-" Y/n started but Gabe shook his head.

"They could hear you call me baby on the phone. I didn't want them to suspect...anything." Gabe watched Y/n's face shift into disappointment.

"Great...well now I won't be getting a cat because I refuse to support that ridiculous cover story." Y/n took his jacket off and hung it on the back of the door.

"It's not a cover-"

"Gabe...we've been friends for seven years, together for four and moved in together for two and I've never met your family, not even as your roommate, as you say, which yes I've heard you call me that by the way." Y/n called Gabe out and he frowned.

"You're more than that and you know it." Gabe reached out to him.

"I'd hope so. I never fucked any of my old roommates so I'd say I'm more too." Y/n's words hurt Gabe.

"Please...stop for a second." Gabe was holding his hands in his own.

"I know how my family would act and I don't ever want that ignorance or hatred to bleed onto what we have here. You are it for me. You are my partner and I want to protect you from anything and anyone that could possibly hurt you." Gabe kissed the back of Y/n's hand and Y/n gave a soft smile.

"That worked the first year on me...not this far in sweetheart." He gave Gabe's hands a squeeze before pulling away.

"Dinner is on the table. I've suddenly lost my appetite." Y/n walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself as Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his closeted status was a huge weight on their relationship but his fear terrified him. The idea of losing his entire family, despite the moral and ethical differences between them, made him feel like it would be the end of the world if they knew.

He wishes things were easier but all the years they had been together, this was the only thing that kept them apart.

#Film: Materna #Materna #Gabe #Gabe x Y/n #FTM Y/n #Like A Pretty Boy #Like A Pretty Boy Series #Midi series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years ago

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Winner’s Curse Ch. 19

Well this came as surprise to me. Literally, the whole idea came to me before I was going to bed so I wrote it the next morning, and here we are. Features some Aladdin quotes, see if you can spot them. Enjoy!

“And then Icarus, what a guy, he is so convincing as Hades, Pain and Panic start following him!” Calix hooted.

“No way, man that didn’t actually happen.” Jay challenged Calix’s story.

“No, no I’ve heard Icarus’ Hades impression, he’s good.” Aziz confirmed, “Hey, remember Icarus’ Hades impression after three drinks at Dionysus’ bacchanal?”

Calix gulped back the drink Circe had left in their shared room and where he, Aziz, and Jay were passing the time sharing stories while waiting around for Uma and Jordan’s arrival.

It had been a pretty placid three days since Jordan reversed Jay’s hypnosis for Malik’s last wish. At first there was a panic when they realized how suspicious it would be if Jay was no longer under Jafar’s thrall but they fixed that with Jordan giving him glowing red contacts. Allowing them to have another infiltrator at the Coven meetings besides Jade, Calix and Uma.

The door opened and Jordan slipped into the room, gingerly cradling her lamp in her hands. But no Uma behind her.

These three placid days had driven Uma to distraction since they were laying around on their asses and not doing anything so she arranged for this new meeting so they’d find something else to do besides eavesdrop for news of what was happening at next week’s Summer Solstice.

But even though this meeting was so important that she felt the need to threaten them with slow, graphic strangulation with her tentacles while Harry used his hook to disembowel him, apparently their leader was late.

“Where’s Jade?” Calix asked, throwing back another shot. It was a fair question since Jordan’s lamp was still technically under Jade’s possession. Or so the Coven thought.

“Showing makeup techniques to Lala and Malik.” Jordan answered.

“Oh right, Lala mentioned that to me this morning.” Aziz warily eyed the fifth shot Calix gulped down.

“Oh, she did? You talk about things other than the plan?” Jordan smoothly slid between him and Calix, her voice was suspiciously too nonchalant.

“Yeah, conversations spawn into different topics. That’s what happens when two people hang out with each other.” Aziz said a little testily with how Jordan was scanning his face like she was searching for some secret that he’d be careless enough to slip.

“Oh you and Lala hanging out together.” Jordan pursed her lips lightly, sounding way too similar to a disapproving aunt, “Can we have a private conversation in my lamp.”

Before Aziz could suss out whatever she was trying to pull and where this was coming from, Jordan had transported them into her lamp.

“Do you have a crush on Lala?” She blurted out accusingly.

Aziz decided to go for a joke, “I-I don’t know about me crushing her, bu-but I can’t blame her if the reverse is true. I mean, look at me.”

Jordan stared with an unamused raised eyebrow.

“Aziz, I know you.” She started, as if that explained why she was so sure she found the romance of the century after two innocent sentences, “I've seen you go through this before. You’re just hanging out with a girl but then you start talking about every topic under the sun. And then you get a crush and you’re all like “She's smart and fun, she’s got these eyes that just...and her hair wow! And her smile!”

“Then you go on a date that doesn’t really go anywhere for whatever reason and get pushed aside. Remember, Lonnie, and Ruby, and Alexandria and Alfonsa, and Arabella, and her twin sisters, woah! Now that I list them out, you date a lot of Triton’s granddaughters.”

“What is your point? What does that have to do with me and Lala? Not that there is anything happening.” Aziz felt himself gulping back the nervousness that he knew exactly what she was talking about even as he denied it.

“Oh please, you’re half smiling while you say her name!”

“I’m not!” Aziz unmanly squawked and cleared his throat into a deeper contralto, “I do not.”

“My point is it’s one thing to date an Ak. You get your heart broken. But a Vk? She’ll try to steal your throne and break your heart.” Jordan said.

“Steals your throne and breaks your heart. Sounds the title of a sex tape. Do you want dibs or can I have it?” Aziz took a shot in the dark to try joking his way out of this again. “Now is not the time to joke about the title of our sex tapes. This is serious!” “You’re still hung up on, “Can your friend do this?” It’s a bit obvious.” Aziz pointed out.

“Oh, you wanted to call your first sex tape, “A whole new world,” like that’s original.” Jordan shot back. “And the “Welcome to the Cave of Wonders” piece you did with Calix was a unique one?” Aziz retorted.

“For your information, I couldn’t choose any title but that because.. wait wait wait? Now is not the time.”

“Aziz Ali iban Aladdin, explain yourself right now.” Jordan crossed her arms. “Jordan, we’ve been over this. You’re not my mom.” Aziz huffed at the use of his full name. “You’re right, I’m not. Your mom doesn’t know about what happened in Odiferous during spring break. Now I have a phone and I have video. So tell me about your feelings for Lala.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions.” Aziz said exasperatedly which was no use since she was ignoring anything that came out of his mouth.

“When did you first feel something more?” Jordan demanded.

“Rarw. Rrrawr. Meow? Are you understanding me at all?” Aziz asked the stony faced leopard man.

Aziz had to admit some of his attempts to talk to the leopard-men was out of boredom. He was starting to get a bit stir crazy being stuck in the castle all day pretending to be Jade or Lala’s slave boy. He could understand why Uncle Genie hated being in the lamp. It was so boring, having to wait for permission to do things and the things you were allowed to do was stuck inside. No running around the corridors and flipping off roofs with wind rushing through your hair or the pit in your stomach when you almost break your neck.

He missed it.

And although Lala was pretty focused in studying the Atlantean texts her mother laid out for her, even she seemed to be getting bored because at random moments, she would angrily shut her book and demand to hear Aziz talk about Agrabah.

He had to admit that if he had a choice, he’d rather be with Jordan and the others trying to make a plan to escape or at least go outside. Talking about Agrabah was getting to be the highlight of his day.

He had started with daring adventure stories about the things his parents used to get into before the Great Uniting like when they had to fight a landshark or the time his dad literally lost his head to the decapitated wizard, Caliph Kapok, and they had to get body and head back together again. He had lots of those stories, Genie often said they could create their own tv series, possibly an animated one for kids to enjoy.

And then, upon Lala’s numerous aside questions, he started describing Agrabah with its alluring spices, chests of gold and diverse and eccentric cast of merchants and travelers that lived in the Seven Deserts. He described the bad like the previous-rampant poverty that seemed similar to the Isle albeit with more head chopping from fellow humans than from a bitter decapitated wizard. It was embarrassing but one time he looked at the ornate diamond-encrusted sand-dial and saw that he had passed over an hour talking about his home. He hadn’t meant to but it just came out. He loved his home so much and describing it felt like he was back there on the dunes for a little while.

He had never talked to anyone about his home before. Jordan already knew what it was like obviously, and no one at Auradon Prep cared beyond the merchandise they could buy at the kazbah. It was so much more than that to him. Living there was an experience, an adventure. You never knew where the smell of spices could lead you or what the secret nooks and crannies would reveal.

The thing was Lala seemed just as enthralled with the place as he was. Usually when he discussed his home, people would shudder in horror at the thought of being accidentally turned into a rat due magic gone wrong and seeing the world from down below or cringed at the thought of getting sand in uncomfortable places after intense competitions of sand surfing.

But Lala looked at him with a sparkle of excitement in her eye and would occasionally point out fun variations to try like horse racing only instead of across the desert, race under the desert, jumping to the few dry spots that were present in the muddy underbelly.

He hoped that if they succeeded in defeating the Coven, Lala would visit Agrabah one day. He had a feeling that the adventures they’d get into together would be amazing. Potentially life threatening. But fun nonetheless. He’d love to watch her go against Fashoom. Or better yet, back to back against the giant scorpions guarding kanz quadim. With his wits and knowledge and her skill and cunning, they’d be an unbeatable team. It’d be fun to go with someone who wanted to be there.

Normally, he went with Jordan but she said it was only because it was her obligation to keep him from breaking his neck and/or all the bones in his body. Her words. And his few Agrabah friends who would be game to go, were commoners who had to work during the day and it would be unfair for him to ask them to ditch just because he wanted some fun.

Yeah, it’d be fun to explore the hidden valleys of the Seven Deserts with her. He looked back to the white-haired girl where she was still bent over a book of indecipherable Atlantean words and figures, so he turned back to Kaj II, Usulan II and Muviro II. Lala’s leopard men she had named after people she knew would annoy her mother.

Aziz growled with two purrs spaced between like he had heard Raj do but the leopard men looked at him like he was an idiot. He wasn’t sure he was even speaking cat-language but it was better than accidentally challenging him to a fight so he’d take it.

“Will you stop with the ridiculous sounds, you’re not speaking leopard. Better stick to monkeys.” Lala cut through his attempts at conversing.

“How would you know? You said you don’t speak leopard.” Aziz shot back, happy that there was some element of human conversation. How the hell she lived in a jungle for days on end without human interaction was beyond his capabilities. “True. However, I know what a leopard sounds like and you don’t sound like a leopard. More like a sick alley cat.”

“Excuse me, priestess” Aziz rolled his eyes, and made another purr-growly sound at the leopards just to be contrary.

When could he go outside? When? When? When?

No, it was stupid. He couldn’t go outside and risk looking like he was escaping and ruin the whole damn mission requiring the others to get his ass out of the dungeon again.

He shuddered, gingerly touching the cheek where Staqauit had struck him numerous times, the malicious laughter of the cat twins taunting him about his impending death.

He needed to do something. Being stuck here with just his thoughts was going to drive him insane.

“Hello?”

“Huh what?”

“I said,'' Lala cleared her throat, “If you want to sound more leopard-like, start with a growl in your throat while meowing and add like you’re going to scream.” She demonstrated her leopard yowl which did get the leopard men’s attention as they looked around for sign of attack or danger.

Aziz tried to mimic what Lala did with her instructions but failed part way through as a tickle caught in his nose before his attempted scream and he fell into a coughing fit, painfully hacking his throat.

Aziz panted, catching his breath while Lala had the grace to look back at her book and pretend not to be amused, “Okay maybe talking to cats is not my thing. But you got a leg up me with your feline self.”

“Feline self?” Lala cocked her head curiously, bringing once again to Aziz’s mind, “Curiosity killed the cat.”

“You know, your eyes, the leopards, the-”

“You think I was born with these eyes? You think I’m part cat?” Lala questioned. “Nooo,” Aziz hedged, already seeing he was going to be wrong, “Not anymore. It’s just your mom has the same eyes so I-”

“It’s spell.” Lala explained, “My mom did it when she got her staff. She did it to me when magic got through to the Isle. It helps me understand the leopards and for them to understand my orders, and it helps my reflexes. There is always a way to improve. Not that I needed improving, but I’ll admit some leopard senses are better than human’s. Like smell. Now I can smell everyone’s scent a mile away.” .

“Scent?” “Yes, your natural scent. You smell like all that baklav Jordan’s been giving you.” She sniffed the air around him again, “Sand. Jasmine. Musk.”

“What does Jordan smell like?” Aziz asked curiously, and a little relieved that he didn’t smell worse like blood and sweat and general stink from not showering for two weeks.

“Hmm I can’t get a clear smell. You know, not objects per say. But she smells like pheromones, sometimes like fire, sand and wind. Mainly reeks of desperation.”

“Well we’re all in desperate straits here.” Aziz chuckled even though it wasn’t really that funny. Well sort of. Jordan absolutely hated not being in control. Or at least looking like she wasn’t in control. She’d freak if she knew that she quote unquote “reeked of desperation.”

“What about Jay?”

“Sweat, oil, grease, brass, musk, dirt. Something else I can’t tell which usually means someone’s hiding something or lying. Not a surprise there. He’s lucky no one else can smell him, the stench of oil and deceit is unbearable on him.”

“Yeah, good thing. I doubt he’d have a lot of admirers around him if he did.” Aziz said, feeling his mind wander off to too familiar but inevitable train of envious thought.

“Admirers? He has admirers in Auradon? I thought you people didn’t like thieves and bad guys. Why is he popular?”

“He’s good now.” Aziz reminded her, but couldn’t stop the bitterness creeping into his voice as he thought of the crowds praising Jay as he scored yet another goal. All the girls and some guys ooing at him and being utterly charmed as he showed off that he stole their wallets. Or if he executed a pretty decent backflip. The guy looked so cool and attractive no matter what he did. And that bad boy act made him even cooler in everyone’s eyes.

“He’s a good thief like Aladdin,” he remembered hearing someone say and Aziz had burned. Good thief?! Jay wasn’t a good thief! Jay wasn’t stealing things in Auradon because he was hungry or wanted to give to the poor. He stole because he was greedy. Aziz could steal too, Dad taught him the tricks, but when he showed off, he got no applause. They thought he was being inappropriate for a prince of his station.

Or now that Jay was here, it was a second-rate kind of steal. He could steal a watch from someone, but Jay could steal a person’s computer and lunch bag. He got the bigger score.

“People love him and his parkor and stupid tourney goals.” Aziz genuinely growled. He felt his blood pump at how everyone were magnets drawn to his presence while he waited in the wings of the tourney field. They did all the same activities, but Jay was better. People were saying he was equal to Aladdin.

If he was forgettable before Jay came around, now he was just invisible.

And honestly useless compared to Jay. He knew Jordan invited him on this mission because she trusted him and it would be breaking unofficial rule that if one of them went on a life changing save the world adventure, the other had to come too, that was just how things were done. But had he really done anything useful?

No, he had gotten captured. They all had gotten captured but he was the only one who had almost died. Because he was mortal, untrained and weak.

The thoughts came again. Had really been less than a week since he had been in the dungeon? Less than a week but at times he still could feel it as if it had been hours ago.

He could remember it all, some of it was blurred darkness. The only thing registering was that he was in pain. But he remembered the beginning.

Staqauit wasted no time grabbing his throat with one hand and choking him, Chimera and Illusion wrapped their arms around him almost as if they were giving a comforting hug. The thought was quickly diminished as their claws tore through his shirt and dug into his skin, he could feel it, feel the slight curve of their sharpness like a hook that wouldn’t be able to get out. And they didn’t no matter how he fruitlessly thrashed.

But it was only the beginning…

Just as he saw the world fuzz around the edges Staqauit threw him to the ground with Chimera and Illusion still stuck to him.

“Squish” Aziz wanted to scream at the pain that entered his torso and at the sickening sound of his blood squirting out. It felt his insides were dipped into boiling water.

But he didn’t, he stubbornly refused to cry out. He was supposed to be a hero, he would not admit weakness like this. He would use his wits to get out of it.

But he had barely time to think up a clever escape as he vainly scrambled to stop the blood from gushing out more. He didn’t recall any of the princes or his father ever being stabbed mid-battle.

Chimera and Illusion extricated themselves from him, their low voices purring contentedly at the pain wrought.

Aziz tried to get up but he couldn’t. He felt the stabbing pain even though he wasn’t being hit anymore. He couldn’t concentrate. He just felt the agony. He struggled to his feet but the muscles in his legs gave out as he slipped on the puddle of his own blood that was seeping the floor.

“Ah ah ah, you think I’m done with you?” Staqauit’s accented voice sneered, “That was only a minor surface wound.”

Aziz didn’t look at the man. He was too concerned with trying to stand up straight again, but that was for naught when he felt the scraping cement of what seemed to be a boulder dropped on his back.

“Carry this to the other side of the room. Double time.” Staqauit ordered, his rapier scraping the ground in front of Aziz’s face.

Aziz didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea. Perhaps because he truly couldn’t think of what else to do. He rationalized to himself in some irrational way that if he did this, maybe Staqauit would get bored. Maybe he’d survive. So he did as Staqauit ordered. He tried to lift the boulder.

He felt his hands bleed as they scraped and tensed to keep the boulder steady on his back. Bent down so low that his knees touched his chest. Pressing hard on the wound.

“At least it’s stopped bleeding,” was the sole hysterical thought in his mind. His lungs felt they were burning and just pounding his chest as if to get out of his body. Blood rushed in his ears and the slow smack of Staqauit’s whip on the floor, keeping time, sounded like gunshots to his ears.

He wasn’t breathing right. He knew that. Aziz felt like he had been running for miles. His throat felt the need for oxygen and his eyes watered. But he managed to get one foot forward, his thoughts running wild.

Where were the others? When was Jordan going to come back? For he knew Jordan would come to him the moment she could as she had since he was 4. What if that ruined the mission? That she failed because he was too weak to save himself?

Then his mind took a turn to what he had been suppressing the moment Staqauit got hold of this throat. What if this was it? What if this was how he was going to die?

His knees buckled at the thought and he fell to the ground, allowing the boulder to drop from his back to feel the sting of the whip. This time he didn’t hold back the scream.

That scream was like a whistle for them as Chimera and Illusion pounced, their punches, scratches and kicks indistinguishable from one another.

And there was more…. he remembered the water boarding vaguely but he was glad he mostly blacked out of that, the boulder and the choking was enough for him.

But when he woke up and saw Lala, all he felt was shame that he had to be rescued.

Like every fight, he thought of what he should have done after the confrontation was over. When Staqauit was choking him, he should have kicked him back in the stomach. The stomach area was always a quick disable to an opponent. Staqauit would have let him go and then he could have parkored and fought his way out with the weapons that were stationed around the dungeon.

But he hadn’t done that. He had thrashed and took the assault and hadn’t been able to think up anything on the sly like he knew Jay was infamous for.

With that thought, some defeated admittance slithered into his voice. Not that it was much of a defeat. It was barely a competition when Jay was naturally better and Aziz could never match no matter how hard he tried. “People love him, he’s strong and fast.. everyone wants him or to be like him…..I wish I could be like him too.”

He hated how much it was true.

“Why?” Lala scrunched her nose in confusion.

Aziz sighed, wishing his explanation didn’t sound so pathetic, “I’m forgettable in Auradon. I’m the third in line for the throne so I’m not inheriting the kingdom like all the other guys in my class. And I’m not that talkative. Believe me, in Auradon that is not a good thing if you want people to notice you. Or at least not be forgettable, and Jay can...” he trailed off. He didn’t want to get into the time in the dungeon. She had been there, she knew he was weak.

“And how does Jay fit into this?”

“He’s like me, I guess. Only better in everything. Better thief, better at tourney, more witty, better at flirting. I just blend in...I don’t want that anymore it sucks.”

“Blending in is a good thing. It allows you to skulk and learn your enemies’ tactics so you can ambush them.” Lala said.

“Great. But that’s in the wild. I’m not willing to move to the jungle just so my introvertedness can be an asset.”

“Okay maybe the ambush thing isn’t important but it is still applicable. It’s good that you’re not as outgoing like the others. Look at those people bragging and flirting and trying to garner attention onto themselves, they’re annoying. It’s always them, them, flash and boasts. They would never survive in life because they are always thinking of themselves. They don’t observe their surroundings, they miss the details that could help in the future. Like- like? I know-A fool who does not observe will fail. They will fail and try again and fail and try again. But a person who does take in their surroundings will learn the lesson once and remember it.”

“You don’t dominate the conversation but when you do, it is sensible and important. You don’t waste words. Same with your actions. You don’t talk the talk, you let your actions show how you get things done. I wouldn’t trust those extroverted people with my life. They’re too bold and impulsive and think with their fists. I ca-People can respect you. Trust you. You are genuine, and witty because you think so much, you will be successful later on.”

“I guess so.” Aziz smudged the dirt-packed floor with his foot, watching the sight of a small mealworm that had been habitating there, crawl out, “But it sucks. I get being successful later in life but what about now? In Auradon, no one takes a second look at me. You have to be a really sociable or talented person like Jay to get noticed. I can’t do that. I try but I- And, and what about in the dungeon, my observation skills gave me nothing! If I act a little more like Jay maybe I wouldn’t be the weak link needing to be rescued.” Aziz blurted out.

Lala didn’t speak and Aziz cringed, staring at the ground. But the silence was growing so long he had to look back to gauge her reaction and saw Lala was waiting for him to look at her.

Then she spoke, “You didn’t escape but you did survive. That takes a special inner strength especially when your enemies wish to demoralize and destroy you. And it is useless to ponder what others would have done when they weren’t been in the situation. You did what you could, and if you are so concerned about your aptitude, I’ll teach you. You have the strength, you need to practice better technique. Stop the self pity it’s a disgusting habit.”

Aziz tried to protest, but felt himself only mouthing the words as a damn nervous blush starting crawling up his neck. He still felt like he should have done better but he appreciated Lala’s words. He knew she held herself and almost everyone else on the standard of their physical skill and made it known when she thought someone was weak. For her to claim that he was strong even after she healed him, rescued him and saw him beaten bloody and battered, it meant something.

And what she was about to say earlier? That little slip-up. She respected him. He hadn’t thought earning her respect was something he had wanted, but as she said it.. he felt so good that he did.

“As for the others, fuck them.” Lala interrupted, “Isn’t Auradon a place where you’re not supposed to be shallow? See beyond first impressions and get to know them? If they don’t do that, fuck them. You shouldn’t even be complaining that people don’t notice you because it means to ones who do, actually care. You’re less outgoing than others. It’s not your fault that they don’t try to see beyond.”

Lala was still talking but Aziz stopped listening. What she said, “It’s not your fault” hit him like a sandstorm. The images of his attempts to try to be better. More funny. More entertaining. More talented. More outgoing. Things that people would want to talk to him like they gathered around his father or around Chad and the other royals.

Yet he was outshone by someone better. His constant overthinking working against him as he talked, praying that he didn’t look like he was trying too hard as he was. Praying that he wasn’t going to be forgettable to people. He failed. He wondered what was so wrong with him that made him invisible. He wondered how people like Lonnie and Jordan could insist he was so fun to be around when he couldn’t make his presence known when he was in the room with the likes of Jay.

But it wasn’t entirely his fault. He was born to be more of a listener than a doer. He preferred being one on one with people. He couldn’t change that. But he could accept it. He could accept that he was never going to be the star of the room and that people may not give him a second glance.

If so, then fuck them. Because it was true. If they could write him off as just forgettable, then he didn’t need their attention anyway.

His shoulder moved and he snapped back to realize he had zoned out in front of Lala. He felt a blush crawl up his neck, making him flush more. He hated how obviously red it was against his olive skin. “Sorry I- I was listening. You really.. I realized..I mean. You’re right. You’re absolutely right, Lala. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.” He leaned forward to hug her but held back. Touchy-feely was not the norm on the Isle, but he felt so grateful for her words that it felt wrong just to say thanks. So he settled for leaning close and smiling. He was pretty sure it was the smile of an idiot but he did it anyway. The nice thing was Lala gave a small-closed lip smile in return and roughly booped his nose.

“I know you needed it. Anyone who is considering to act more like Jay needs to be talked off the deep end.”

Feeling a bit more generous now that he was coming around to accepting he didn’t need to be as cool as Jay to be noticed, Aziz snapped back into psychologist mode, trying to see his observances of Jay through a more objective, less jealous lens.

Not that he had much time to observe Jay since he got hypnotized which was surely a traumatic betrayal on its own since it came from his father’s snake staff. Which spoke to how uncaring and domineering Jafar must be as a father if he felt the need to control his son.

“I don’t know. I think Jay is more than the impulsive idiot you take him for. I believe it's just a facade he puts up.” Aziz mused “To annoy people? It works.” Lala rolled her eyes.

“What went down between you that you hate him so much?” Aziz asked.

“I don’t hate him, I dislike him. He’s annoying. He stole my spears for himself, he thinks he’s so great he tries to fight Mabaya on his own and almost gets both of us killed because again, he took my weapons and then broke them! What idiot tries to chuck a spear out a charging elephant? It does nothing. If he had to throw the spear, he should have aimed at a vital joint or his eye at least. I can’t respect such idiocy.” Lala huffed.

“I understand but he was a bit out of his element in the jungle and it is his fall-back to try to boast and impress. Usually people who do that are trying to hide something.” Aziz said. Then he thought of a saying of his mother. It was a bit of what Vks called, sentimental Auradon crap, but he felt it should be said, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

“Whatever.” Lala yawned.

“What happened to not judging people? Look beyond the surface.” Aziz teased.

“That was for you. I’m a bad person, I don’t need to follow that rule.” Lala sniffed haughtily.

It would have been so easy to take that as another little joke in their back and forth, but his observing skills struck again. She sounded haughty but her eyes were downcast, and considering what she said that she was too like her mother… she felt it was true.

“You’re not exactly like your mother, you know. I don’t think so at least” Aziz said softly in case Lala didn’t want to broach the subject and could pretend to ignore him.

“I know I’m not exactly like her. I’m only as close to her as she allows me to be. She’s always one step ahead.” Lala muttered, not looking at him. “If I was like her she’d have me be the princess of Opar. But I’m not good enough for that. Not like Tarzan’s children.” “I don’t know Tarzan’s children that well but I don’t think Queen La would find them worthy heirs. I never saw Kerchak swing from a tree or pick up a sharp object in my life. And Victoria-”

“No. Not Tarzan and Jane’s children. Tarzan and my mom’s. The ones she’s planning to have in the future. They don’t even exist and I’m not as good as them according to her because I got one stupid scar and I’m claustrophobic.” Lala scowled, smacking the ground in anger of her own weaknesses.

“You seem to be handling your claustrophobia.” Aziz encouraged.

“As long as I don’t think about it. That’s why I study so hard. It’s because it takes my mind off where I am, not because it requires my intense study. Trust me. But at night…” Lala inhaled deeply and tensed, “I hate this place. I miss the fresh air and space. Every time someone closes the door, I feel like it's going to be lock with this air that-” She inhaled deeply again.

“Let’s go to a window,” Aziz suggested motioning to leave the room. Lala took the offer eagerly and they bounded up the stairs to Lala’s room, the leopard men obediently behind them.

Lala threw open the windows to the balcony and breathed deeply. A blissful smile enveloped her features as her body relaxed. The wind was out today, and unlike Auradon, this wasn’t a refreshing light breeze. On the Isle, when the wind blew, it blew like a gust and Aziz was impressed that Lala stood straight without bending to its battering assult. But it fit her. Lala was the person who could stand strong against natural forces. Her face perfectly serene as the wind whipped her white braid about and ruffled her long sleeves.

Aziz stood next to her, keeping a hand to the side of his face as the gusts constantly pushed his bangs into his eyes and mouth and became a general nuisance. “I don’t think you’re exactly like your mom. Not just because you can’t live to her caliber. You’re not shallow considering you speak to a guy who hasn’t rung any animal by his neck. Despite your wish for a kingdom, I don’t think, at least I’m guessing, you don’t have a real desire to lord over others like a tyrant.”

“From what I’ve observed, and I’m a pretty good observer if I say so myself. You’re reserved because you know that’s the way to survive. But I also think it speaks to how genuine you are. You don’t deal with bullshit, if you respect a person you show it, if you don’t, you don’t. A little blunt but honesty is better than fakery. You seem to actually like learning and challenging yourself with the Atlantean magic. You laughed at my jokes which shows you have a brilliant sense of humor... And despite what you say, you did care about your siblings. You can’t live up to her mom and her imaginary children? Then fuck her. You’re pretty formidable by yourself. You’d be successful as a warrior or a priestess or whatever. You’d have awesome adventures no matter what you do because you’re a badass warrior princess.``

Although she wasn’t looking at him, he could tell she was listening. He could see the corner of her mouth twitching up and down, fighting a smile. So he decided to return the favor and nose boop her to get her attention.

She batted his hand away but a small laugh escaped her lips. “Badass warrior princess. Hmm you observed me very well.”

“Eh little observations here and there, some is just gut instinct. Some people may think a person’s reserve is them being stuck up but I get your’s is more than that.” Aziz coughed as a piece of his hair blew into his mouth.

“People may think you’re forgettable, but I understand you’re more of an observer.” Lala pursed her lips, catching her braid as it flew to hit Aziz’s cheek.

Aziz rubbed his cheek, his mother’s saying popping into his head again. He shrugged, feeling oddly self-conscious and nervous about repeating the quote. Which was weird because he said it about Jay just a few minutes before. But saying it, to Lala, seemed more..more meaningful somehow.

No, he was overthinking all of this again so Aziz ignored it, “Sometimes we only see how people are different from us. But if you look hard enough, you can see how we are all like.”

Lala smiled at him and there was something.. a something in the air. Energy, a vibe, he wasn’t sure but it made the fact that even though they were in the blustery air, he felt as if he were enclosed in a small world between the two of them. Time to change the subject then! “So speaking of observing, I haven’t really had the chance to do it around here much, but isn’t it fascinating to watch the people here?” Aziz asked. People watching was his go to subject for most conversations. Not that many people had much to contribute. People watching was not a thing most people engaged in which he thought was a shame. It was the most fun ever! People had such weird idiosyncrasies even when they did a normal thing like walking past whether it was an odd head bop or having feet pointed in first position or the like. Lala shrugged and Aziz nodded understandingly. He knew the topic wouldn’t probably go anywhere but then...“What's people watching?” “Oh it’s this thing where you just sit and watch random people. You know observe their habits, stuff that they do.” Aziz sighed. It was a lot more interesting action than in explanation. “Oooh!” Lala nodded understandingly, “Like observing your prey and enemies. I’ve done that lots of times. It’s entertaining.” Aziz’s eyes widened, “You think it’s fun too!”

Lala looked at him as if he was crazy for suggesting otherwise, “Yes. It’s a useful skill and people do such weird stuff.”

“Such weird stuff!” Aziz said at the same time, and then he tried to dial down the enthusiasm in his voice when Lala made the “calm down” sign, snorting at his excitement. “Remember when we were at Gaston’s bar and that Hun guy was fighting Stanley? I noticed in other fights that he does this thing with his head.. ugh I can’t describe it. But like he’d almost twist his...” ———————————————————————————————

That had been three days ago and they almost talked for an hour when Kaj II growled his warning that Queen La was arriving and Aziz had to swing off the balcony and climb against the wall to the correct balcony that would lead to Jade’s room.

Not that he had realized it but in hindsight, that might have been the moment he developed a crush on the warrior princess. Ever since then, he just… he just wanted to be around her a little more compared to the others. He wanted to hear more about her opinions or stories or anything she had to say.

And whenever she smiled at his jokes even if she rolled her eyes because it was corny, he felt like he won a tourney victory or something. And she was so..so graceful. Not cat-like graceful but beautiful, every move she makes was stunning.

Not that he allowed himself to think about it too much. There were more important things at stake like saving the world, and if he thought about how he had a crush on Lala then he’d get self-conscious and nervous and he didn’t want that. Their friendship was just fine for him. He was even teaching her monkey.

Not that it was any of Jordan’s business.

“It’s not important.” Aziz said.

“It better not be. You can try to deny it but I can see that “Can you feel the love tonight” nonsense from a mile away. Why don’t you just forget crushing on mermaids and.. and maybe a nice girl from Agrabah. Or a nice boy. You had such a good time with Mena, remember.”

“Mena was...Honestly Mena was the only guy I.. I can’t. I keep comparing other men to him which is— Can we not talk about him?” Aziz growled, partly from the memory of his sole boyfriend who had used him for the status of dating a prince and had been cheated on him the whole time, and partly because Jordan was bringing him up even though she knew it was a touchy subject.

“I know he didn’t work out but it’s like you told me, you can’t give up on the whole male population because of one cheating boyfriend. Cheating would be nothing compared to this. This crush is a mistake.” Jordan huffed.

“Why is it a mistake exactly?” Aziz raised an eyebrow at Jordan’s judgemental attitude. Usually she was all for Aziz meeting someone and start planning their dates even though her tastes were a bit extravagant like setting off fireworks when he leaned in for a kiss.

“I get the appeal, really. She was a mysterious stranger swinging on a vine. But she’s the same stranger who broke Calix’s arm! He’s lucky that he has magic on his side and could heal the arm that she broke. If he was mortal, he’d be doomed. There’s no hospitals here, we’d have to cut it off.”

“That’s not how unattended broken arms work, Jordan.” Aziz rubbed his temples at her wildly dramatic reasons why having a crush on Lala would be bad, “It doesn’t matter, I’m not going to do anything when there are more important things at stake.”

“I know. I’m just saying you shouldn’t even pursue this when we get back to Auradon. Think about, Aziz. Really think about it. Imagine what would happen if you even got together? She’s the daughter of Queen La. Allah knows that if she got jealous, she’d murder the other person and kill you for looking a for wandering eyes.” Jordan said.

“Then I guess you both have something in common.” Aziz said sarcastically, “Like when you sent your ex a box of scorpions when you found him cheating on you.”

“That’s completely different! He deserved it! You don’t deserve to feel pain. I’m telling you it’s not good to act on love at first sight.”

“Love at first sight?” Aziz scoffed. Did she not even know him? They always joked about people who thought they fell in love at first sight.

Sure, for some it was true. Auradon was practically built on it but more often than not it could lead to a very difficult marriage. That’s why Snow White took that job as a reporter so she wouldn’t be around King Florian so much.

Jordan should know him better, he may get a crush at first glance, but he wouldn’t act on it unless he was sure there was more.

“I’m not in love with her. I’m not doing anything with her.”

“You’re hanging out with her!” Jordan cried.

“I’m also hanging out with Jade. With your logic, I could be crushing on her. She’s clever, she’s daring, we have things in common, we can do parkour together. Plus she’s the daughter of one of our families’ enemies. Star crossed lovers and all that. It’s a perfect fairytale romance.” Aziz breathlessly mocked.

“Jade is not… she wouldn’t use you like Lala.”

“She’s a Vk, who says Jade wouldn’t.” Aziz pointed out.

“Jade’s like you and me.” Jordan defended lamely.

“How? What? Because she’s descended from Agrabahians?” Aziz cried. He knew she could be judgemental and superficial but really? This?

“No. I mean technically yeah but no. She and Jay. She cares about him. They’re like us.” Jordan said meaningfully, grasping his hands and looking lovingly in his eyes in a way that made Aziz feel small and childish.

He hated it when she got like this. Acting like she was so much more worldly and knowing because she was a genie. She had a duty to protect him, the poor sheltered mortal prince who didn’t know any better or understand the morally grey areas of life. He survived torture in the damn dungeon!

Which now that he thought about it, beyond the hug Jordan hadn’t asked him a single thing about the incident. It seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Yeah, she cared about his safety. But for all the wrong reasons.

“So? If that was true then why don’t you trust Jay if his bond with Jade is so much like our bond.” Aziz asked, pointing out the hole in her little argument.

“Well um I, Jay’s Jay’s complicated and I mean I don’t distrust him, it’s just after he said that thing about me giving..”

The epiphany dawned on Aziz before Jordan finished her sentence. How could he not have realized it before? It was all Jordan ever worried about.

“It’s because Jade hasn’t asked you for wishes and Lala has. That’s it.”

“She probably figured out that I’d back out of my promise so she’s trying to use you so you could convince me to give her wishes!” Jordan cried like a detective solving a case with her convoluted logic.

“And you think she’s going to seduce me to do that? Do you have so little trust in me?” Aziz used the calm steely tone that he knew would annoy her most. Not only did she act like he was a sheltered, naive mortal but a weak willed one too.

“NO no I do trust you! I know you would never intentionally do that to me. But I don’t want you to get hurt just because she’s manipulating you to get to me!” Jordan screamed, stamping her foot childishly that he was not giving into her.

“How self-absorbed can you get? Jordan, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your powers. Is it such a crazy thought that she might actually fall for me?” Aziz matched his volume to hers.

“Why wouldn’t she want me? I have phenomenal cosmic power and convenience for everyone. A lamp that forces me to obey their desires. You can’t offer her that. You’re just..you.”

Aziz stared at her, the sentence hitting him like a gut punch. He couldn’t believe Jordan of all people was saying this to him. She was the one who always helped him out on dates and assured him that anyone would fall in love with him after

��.Maybe all that helping out wasn’t just from the goodness of her heart? It was because she secretly thought he couldn't get a girl on his own. Why would he with his so few talents? He wasn’t debenoir or charming enough like Jay. He wasn’t going to inherit the throne like other princes. What did he have to offer that the other boys at Auradon Prep couldn’t offer or even top? All he had was a genie friend who’d make “a whole new world” dates.

Moreover, it hurt. His best friend in the world also thought that he wasn’t good enough on his own. She thought he needed her to survive through life and love and all those trials.

Now he was glad he told Lala how he felt ignored. Clearly his so-called “best friend/wingwoman/sister” was too oblivious and selfish to comfort him. Not even that. She secretly shared everyone else’s opinion that he was forgettable!

“Me? What does that-“ Aziz snarled.

“I-I just don’t want you to spend so much time with her.” Jordan seemed to sense his anger and began backtracking, “You know I don’t have a lot of people to hang out with. So many people just want me for my wishes. You-you don’t want to use me. You’re my best friend. That’s why I need you. After everything I’ve done for you, all I’m asking is for you to be my friend.” Aziz heard her but didn't listen, her hurtful words still ringing in his ears. Besides that was completely unbelievable. She was afraid of losing him? That was a ridiculous idea and she knew that. If she was going to lie to his face, she could try to make it believable!

And what? It wasn’t like he owed her for everything she had done for him. That wasn’t how friendship worked! He didn’t ask her to do things and join adventures. She did it herself because she was his friend.

Or he had thought it was because they were sibling/friends. Apparently it was because she believed he needed her.

“You need me around forever to sooth your constant paranoid insecurity. I get it.” Aziz rolled his eyes sarcastically.

“It’s not a paranoid insecurity. It’s a fact.” Jordan claimed.

“Jordan, have you ever thought, maybe the reason people will only look at you for your wishes is because your general personality is unbearable to deal with. That’s why no one wants to be your friend. There’s nothing likable to be friends with but thank Allah, at least if they hang around long enough they’ll get wishes out of you.” Aziz snapped.

Jordan froze, clearly hurt by the sound of the crack in her voice, “Do you feel that way too?”

Aziz didn’t give himself time to think. She didn’t deserve any amount of comfort from him after what she just said. She didn’t need to act like she knew everything about life and treat him like an incapable, forgettable mortal. That was what he was to her, a mortal. And he knew from all their talks together just how little she respected mortals. And apparently he was no exception.

“Yes, sometimes I do.”

For a brief eerie moment, the wind was sucked out of the room and silence reigned. Oppressive, weighty silence that he could literally feel pressing against his chest and head and the rest of his body. He began to wonder if he should try to escape, that Jordan was about to do something they’d both regret.

“GET OUT!!” Jordan screamed.

“I can’t get out. You control your lamp.” Aziz hissed through his teeth to keep from yelling again.

“Fuck you.” The sight of Jordan giving him the finger was his last vision before pink smoke and sand fogged up his view and he rudely fell to the floor.

He glared at the lamp, imagining its arrogant, selfish, all knowing, cosmic occupant pacing the floor, creating a mini sand storm in her anger. Fine.

“Fuck you too.”

#jordan #aziz #jay #lala #my fanfic #my fanfiction #winner’s curse #calix #ocs #disney descendants #chapter nineteen

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violints · 5 years ago

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STATEMENT OF V.ANYA H.ARGREEVES, REGARDING A FOGGY EMPTINESS AND A CURSED VIOLIN. TAKEN DIRECT FROM SUBJECT. STATEMENT BEGINS.

you said to start at the beginning, so here is the beginning : on october first, 1989, my father adopted seven children from all over the world. he was one of the richest people on earth. adopt may be a strong word — there was never any paperwork, my uncle pogo had to forge a birth certificate for me when i decided to attend college — but we lived in a many - roomed house in the middle of new york city, however it was we came to be there.

i’ve realized in recent years that it was essentially a doomsday cult — my father had some big ideas about an apocalypse coming, and he thought we could stop it, somehow. i . . . i say we, but i was never included. he trained my siblings and i watched. i was the seventh member of the academy, but as far as the world was concerned, i was invisible — he framed it as a charity initiative to the media, paraded my siblings around like his favorite weapons, and i . . . watched it all.

it’s hard to say when things crossed the threshold from unusual but understandably messed up childhood to supernatural occurrence for this reason : even back then, i felt like a ghost most of the time. everything was just a bit gray around the edges, and nobody really saw me, i mean really saw me, until i moved out and went away to college. and even then — i lived alone, studied violin in empty practice rooms, didn’t have many friends. i wasn’t an outcast, but . . . people saw the name h.argreeves and made some assumptions, i think. i went to parties but i was never invited to them. i didn’t have any of my classmates’ phone numbers. i was still more of a haunting than a real person.

so it’s hard to pinpoint, but what i do know is that sometimes, when i looked up from my sheet music or woke up from a nightmare, there would be nobody around. just fog. i tried describing that to a therapist at the time and she didn’t understand : when i say nobody, i mean that it was three in the afternoon and the just - sunny sky was suddenly so covered in clouds it was dark, and times square was empty. i know, because i thought to go there once — i had to run the thirty blocks from my apartment to midtown, because there weren’t any cars on the road for me to hail a taxi and the subways weren’t running, on account of there not being anyone to run them. times square doesn’t get empty. midtown, in general — new york, in general, is never so devoid of people.

i wasn’t keeping very good track of the days at that point — my therapist said i was depressed, and i think she was right, on top of everything else happening — but this happened every couple months from my junior year of college to when i was twenty - three. more often by the end there. i’ve always been a lonely person, so i was used to that — but this was beyond that. this empty blankness.

i think it might’ve swallowed me up if not for the new orchestra i joined. the icarus theater was having auditions, and i’d lost touch with my old orchestra during one of those bouts of blankness. not sure how much of that was standard depression and how much was some outside force — in the end, whether it’s your own mind taking things from you or something else, the result’s the same, isn’t it? the isolation. you’re left with just yourself and your thoughts. but i thought : a new orchestra would do me some good, being around people, playing music. that’s what i clung to, when that emptiness became too much. the music. i’m a violinist, i’ve been studying since i was a kid, and it’s something to hold onto, you know?

i could have sworn i’d destroyed any chance of me getting into the orchestra with my audition. i missed a few notes, i was so nervous, and i could feel that fog stinging at my legs — it was freezing cold. but the conductor stared at me and said, first chair. first chair. if you’ve never been in an orchestra, you can’t understand how much that means — it’s like being god.

i never got the conductor’s name, which is weird, in retrospect, but i was too happy to notice at the time. too giddy to see that there was absolutely no chance i’d earned a first chair spot. you really have to work your way up to that. it takes years. not only did he give me first chair, he gave me a violin — pure white, looked custom made.

he looked at me like i was prey. i should’ve been scared. but once he gave me the violin — well, i wasn’t prey anymore.

i think i need to emphasize something here. the way i am now is not the way i was then. it’s been two years since i got the violin — it’s in its case, sitting by the door, i don’t really go anywhere without it. i was . . . different. shy to the point that i barely spoke at all. i’d never have thought about giving this long of an explanation of anything at that point — i didn’t start talking as a kid till i was five years old, and i never really learned how to express myself in words. ( laughs. ) i think that’s why i liked music. i’ve always liked the sort of classical songs that sound angry, you know the kind? the ones that feel like the composer just wanted to stab every single person they could see with their baton. but when i wasn’t playing music, i was . . . well, almost invisible. i kept headphones on, wore giant sweaters everywhere, hid myself whatever ways i could find.

i don’t think the violin changed me so much as made me realize things that were always there. first off : that i was angry. i was raised in total isolation, my siblings didn’t give a shit about anyone but themselves, i had no idea what i was doing with my life. second : that everyone else around me was angry too. just full of rage and violence. bursting with it. it took me a while to notice, because when you’re so wrapped up in your own worries, the people around you fade out into the fog.

but i did notice. every time i practiced, i’d hear shouting outside my window or from the apartment next door. when i rehearsed my solos, the other musicians would get into fights backstage — fistfights, sometimes, not only verbal ones. at my first concert as first chair, a riot erupted in the audience. you would think we were at a show with a mosh pit. someone was stabbed. there was a lot of blood, but i don’t think they died. we kept playing through it all.

the next rehearsal, a cellist tried to beat a piccolo player over the head with a music stand. i saw the way the conductor looked at me during it. not at the cellist and the piccoloist but at me, with the widest grin. like i was telling him the best joke on earth. it all clicked for me, then. in retrospect, it took far too long — two months since i’d auditioned, the whole time with this violence all around, but i’d been so . . . joyful, i suppose. it was a new feeling. i didn’t really know what to do with it.

i didn’t stop playing as i walked towards the conductor. i didn’t have my sheet music in front of me anymore, and i don’t think i knew the piece well enough to have it to muscle memory, but i kept playing, and he kept watching me. not like prey, but like a gift. more musicians joined in the fight behind me, i think, but that was its own kind of music. it started to blend with the song i was playing.

and then i was a yard away from the conductor, and i reached out with my bow. it was sharp. sharper than a bow should be. sharp enough to cut his throat in just one fluid motion.

i’d never killed anyone before. i wasn’t expecting it to feel good.

obviously, the orchestra dissolved. i don’t know why no one caught me. whenever someone knocked on my door, i was expecting the police. i didn’t really have to worry about that, though — a week or two after the conductor died, i realized the fog was back. that empty clawing at everything.

i think i panicked. i don’t remember picking my violin up, but i was playing it, loudly, with every bit of anger i’d realized i had in the last few months. crescendo after crescendo. how dare that loneliness try to grab me again, how dare it try to pull me under — i was becoming something else, something more than that. it was a blank and empty space, but i was anything but empty by that point. i think i screamed, as i played. i don’t really remember.

it dropped me off in paris. when i was a kid, one of my brothers — ben, he died young, during one of dad’s training sessions, and i never really found out what happened to him — we’d fantasize about running away. i don’t know why paris was always the place i imagined then. i’d never left new york before this, but i think it was the fog’s last act of revenge against me — i got the sense that it hated me, the way it clung to me that last time, so much colder than it had ever been before. my fingers were halfway to turning blue. when it cleared, i wasn’t anywhere i recognized.

i had my violin, though, and my wallet was in my pocket, and i . . . my playing had a draw to it that it never had before. i’ve practiced since i was eight years old, but i can’t put this down to practice. whatever the conductor had done, whatever was in the violin — along with its violence, as that followed me too, it drew people in.

i think you can guess what happened then. i don’t stay in one place for too long anymore, but after a few months i get . . . hungry is the best way i’ve found to describe it, but it isn’t quite right. there’s a hole where my rage should be. and i play the violin, and people erupt around me — they follow me, fighting and clawing and bloodied, until their red stains me and their bodies are behind me, and i’m playing the whole time, and it’s . . . beautiful. that’s the only way i can describe it. it’s filling, and it’s beautiful.

have you ever cried at a song on the radio — really cried, and not because of the lyrics or any memories tied to the song, but because the music was so powerful it filled your heart until it exploded outwards? that’s, i think, what it’s like. the power of it. i play, and it bursts out of me and into something angry, and it goes to whoever’s around me. it’s intoxicating. it feels incredible.

( a pause. ) you don’t need to worry. i left the violin by the door for a reason. i’m not going to play it in here. i won’t kill you.

i’ve made my way around — i’m not close with my siblings at all, but i did have one of them send me the passport uncle pogo forged for me, so i can get around. it’s easy to find orchestras, and they pay their first chairs well, here. i’ve been in london for a month. there’s enough people here that, even when that hunger sparks, i can probably stay for at least a year before any deaths are noticed. maybe more.

i’m here because it felt right. i follow what feels right, now — not what’s good or moral or what’ll lead to whatever path i think i should be following through life, but the instinct of it. honestly, i came in to talk about the fog — i never did get a real answer about that, and ghosts seems as likely as anything . . . and that’s sort of the deal here, right? i’m fine with the violin. i’m fine with what it’s made me.

and i know nobody will believe you if you try to report me. that helps, too. i can deny it, or move around, or kill my way out of it — but i have never felt more like myself than in the last two years. in the center of all that music and light and violence, there’s me, and i haven’t seen the fog since that began. it’s more than worth it.

STATEMENT ENDS.

#*　　𝄞 .　　first a warning musical‚ then the hour irrevocable　　⁄　　‟　au : archives .　„#*　　𝄞 .　　your soul is blowing apart　　⁄　　‟　study .　„#uhhh #murder /#death /#violence /#cults /#this got MUCH LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO #but it was fun

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darryl-jacobson · 5 years ago

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What’s this? It didn’t take me six months to get the next chapter done? Amazing. Anyway, thanks to Percy who helped with some of her character's dialogue and to all my amazing friends who inspire me and then say really nice things about my writing.

Chapter 3 of the AU. 5.4 K

Chapter one here

Chapter two here

The first thing Dale did after he woke up was went for a run. If he had been back home, that what he would have done. And running first thing in the morning helped him maintain a better focus during the day, instead of feeling hyper and jittery. Running in this place felt different. It was easier to breathe, as it was not so high up in the mountains.

As he ran, he wondered if anyone would be upset that he had left. But then again, it wasn’t as if he had been trying to go back to his parent, or escape or something. And no one said he had to stay inside. Just went out to run for a while and then he’d come back, easy.

It was really strange being here.

Just days ago, Dale had been at a boarding school. Getting up early, going to classes, playing football in the afternoon and hanging out with his friends. Now he had been pulled away from all of that and was tossed into the middle of a survival colony.

As of right now, he didn’t have to go to school, due to the fact that there wasn’t enough other teenagers his age here to be educated with. Even if they did have enough, the adults who lived here seemed pretty busy with keeping up the survival of this place.

Dale wasn’t sure if he missed it or not. It was nice not to have to worry about that project anymore and to be able to sleep in, not have to be out of bed bright and early, or worry about uniform or room inspections. But still, he couldn’t help but think about his friends, his teachers. If they knew where he was, if they missed him.

But mostly his thoughts were focused on his parent, Foreldri. He wasn’t sure if they were worried or not, or more pissed that someone had all but stolen him. He didn’t want them to be worried, but he also hoped they cared enough to worry.

As he stopped running for a moment to pant, he tried to imagine them here in this strange city with him. Immediately, his imagination failed him. They would not be here, and if by chance they were forced to be here, they would hate it. Hate it. The city wasn’t perfectly organized, there wasn’t a mass amounts of laws set in place about every little thing.

If they were to come here, it would only be to remove him from this place.

His feelings on the topic were a mess. And it didn’t feel like there was anyone here he could talk to about that. No one here would care if Foreldri was up all night, beside themselves with panic and worry. And it wasn’t as if anyone would let him contact them.

Even if he could, he wasn’t going to tell them where he was. Just that he was safe. And that he had a lot of questions for them.

***

Dale eyed the two kids from across the street. Both were younger then him and seemed different in a way he couldn’t pinpoint. “Who are they?” He asked softly.

His new mother thought it would be a good idea for him and his siblings to spend some time together. It was supposed to be him plus Dare and Icarus but some other girl had stopped by and Dare went off with her. Now, it was just him and Icarus. It made Dale wonder if the other boy had any friends. So far, Dale had only heard about an uncle who worked in the greenhouse.

Icarus glanced over. “Indigo and Killian.” He said shortly. There was an undertone of bitter anger as he watched the two of them.

Dale watched them as well, curious to this interaction he didn’t quite understand. It didn’t take him long to realize why. Icarus and Dare were guarded, as if neither of them fully believed the safety of this place would last forever. But Indigo and Killian didn’t have that, the two of them seemed happy and content, laughing and goofing off. Neither seemed very aware of the war that had plagued the outside world.

And the harsh look on Icarus’ face confirmed that he was very aware of this.

Dale didn’t know what to say, so he just glanced around. They were near the center of the city, he could see almost all of it from this vantage point, all encased within this dark red, magical bubble. “This is a nice place to live.”

Icarus shrugged. “I guess. It’s a lot better than the places we used to live in.”

A look of confusion passed over the older teenager’s face. “You still remember that?”

“...Yeah?” He blinked at him. “It was only a couple of years ago.”

Dale started at him. “A couple of years ago? But...” he glanced around. “This happened when I was seven... you were five...?”

A look of anger passed over Icarus’ face and he folded his hands in front of his body. “Because we weren't here when GoS made this place. I was still on the ground with Mom and Dare and Uncle Darryl. And then it was gone and we didn’t know where they went and mom’s spouse was thought to be dead and we had to run.” He said.

“...For now long?”

“Years.” Icarus said, venom in his voice. “The Representative hates mom. And Uncle Darryl. Both of them are wanted, dead or alive.”

“The Great Representative.” Dale corrected automatically.

His younger brother looked up and scowled. “There’s nothing great about them. They knew we weren’t dead, so we spent years running from their soldiers. Hiding in one place, thinking we were safe only having to leave in the middle of the night. Mom helping stray kids and or other people only to find out some tried to rat us out to the The Representative and having to leave them behind.”

He stopped talking and looked at the ground. “It was hard. We didn’t always have food or a safe place to stay. And then we finally came here and met the others. They’re so lucky... Indigo and Killian, they never had to wonder if soldiers would find them or if their mom would be taken away and killed.”

As Icarus was speaking, a woman with long dark hair to her waist that was dressed in a tight green dress with a lot of makeup and accented jewels floated by, a few children following her. “Who’s that?” Dale asked, hoping to change the subject.

Icarus glanced over. “Also a Loki, ” He said softly. “She’s dating grandpa, she likes us kids a lot. But she’s... different. He had to tie her magic to this place, so she can’t even leave.”

Dale blinked. “Why?”

That got him a shrug. “I don’t know. But don’t ever ask her about it, it upsets her.”

Before Dale could ask more questions, those two kids, Indigo and Killian noticed the two of them. Both bounded across the street. “Who are you?” The younger one, probably Killian, asked.

“Dale.”

Icarus forced a neutral look on his face. “This is my brother, you know the one-”

The girl lit up. “We’ve heard about you!” She seized his hand and pumped it up and down. “I’m Indigo and this my brother, Killian.” A giggle escaped her mouth when she finally released him. “Sorry, it’s just. Like, really nice to meet you.”

“It’s okay.” Dale smiled back at her. “Nice to meet you too.”

Before either of them could say anything, Icarus cleared his throat. “I’ve got to do something real fast.” He said quickly. “Over in that building, you’ll be okay here for a minute?”

Dale nodded, seeing where his brother had pointed to. “Yeah, I’ll meet you over there.”

For the next 15 minutes, Dale chatted with Killian and Indigo and enjoyed every second of it. Neither of them seemed gloomy and unhappy but positive and upbeat about living here and what life was like. It was a refreshing change of pace from everyone else he had met so far.

Indigo especially had caught his attention. She was thin and looked like she was in the middle of a growth spurt, but had a great smile. After asking him lots of questions, she finally said she had to run but promised that she would see him later and the thought made him smile.

After watching as the two of them disappeared, he turned and headed in the direction where his little brother had gone. It took Dale a moment to find the door of that building, but soon he was inside. It was a strange and vacant place, what kind of errand did Icarus have here?

After finding the first and second story empty, he reached the third before he heard his younger brother’s voice. As he got closer, he could make out several more voices, all of them talking about something. Something about how one time, they had to hide because someone horrible would've killed all of them. After a moment, he realized they meant Fari.

At first, the teenager thought it was a joke or a mistake. But the more he listened, the more he heard. Everyone here hated them and even worse, it was for reasons that weren't even true.

A wave of anger rolled over him. Everything they were saying was just a ridiculous story in an attempt to make Foreldri the bad guy, the evil villian who killed everyone in sight and laughed as they bathed in blood. No one was even grateful for what they had done.

Dale popped around the corner, suddenly visible. “Foreldri wouldn't have executed you, especially just kids.” He said, making sure to keep his voice razor sharp.

The younger boy glanced up from where he was seated among some other kids, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. “Mom is one of the most known people who want to kill them.” He stammered, before starting to warm up to his topic. “They would have if they found us, because they would know it would make Mom more vulnerable and likely to mess up.”

“They don't just kill kids, they're not a monster, they're trying to save the planet.” Dale repeated.

Icarus narrowed his eyes. “They're rebuilding stuff that wouldn't have needed rebuilding if they hadn't taken over in the first place. Plus, they're evil. If they can have a legitimate reason for it, they'd do it.”

“Because humans were destroying the planet fighting each other!” He took a deep breath, trying to keep his anger under control. “You don't even know them, you've never met them but you just think they're evil!”

Icarus’ expression turned angry. “They weren't fighting at a rate that would destroy it. And I don't have to know them to think if they're evil, I just have to look at the things they've done!”

That only made Dale angrier as his simmered and boiled, wanted to be let out. “The old human leaders were fighting at a rate that would destroy the planet because there were so many different world leaders, Foreldri made it so there was only one ruler of the world and that's them.”

“Yeah,” Icarus snapped back. “And they wrecked half the world in the process! They're getting all this clout now for fixing it, but they shouldn't have messed with it in the first place!”

“They weren't the only one who contributed to buildings or areas being destroyed. They wanted to unite the world under one leader, they did that, now they're rebuilding and it will make everything better, how can you not see that?”

Icarus only rolled his eyes. “Says them! Do you really think they care?? Their nickname was literally Lawful Evil Loki and they make the laws now!”

Some other person decided now was a good time to jump in. “Dude, you don't even know what you're talking about, they kidnapped and brainwashed you into thinking they are a good person.”

That was almost more then Dale could take. It was hard enough to hear this from his so-called brother but another person, who he didn’t even know- made it even worse.

“They never brainwashed me and I do know what I'm talking about.” Dale said through clenched teeth. He wondered how many times he would have to repeat this. They were not evil. “Because I actually knew them and saw what they wanted. Just because change is scary doesn't mean it's always bad! And that stupid nickname was given to them, they didn't choose it!

Icarus frowned. “Nicknames are given to people for a reason!” He said. “If you don't believe me, you can ask any grown-up here. It's not like anyone here has any reason to lie to you.”

“None of you understand what they're doing and if you actually paid attention and stopped thinking that they were some evil villain, then you'd understand!”

That made the younger boy get to his feet. “If you opened your eyes and tried to see anything other than what they taught you, you'd understand!”

“If you were actually my brother, you'd believe me!” Dale spat back in return.

Icarus opened his mouth but didn’t say anything as a deeply hurt look passed over his face. He closed his mouth and folded his arms, a look of anger smoothly sliding over the pain, a barrier coming down to hide the wound. “Whatever. If you actually know how much it hurt mom when they took you, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

Even when Icarus stopped talked, two other people behind him started talking as well. While they weren’t being angry or aggressive, their message was the exact same. You don’t know what you’re talking about and how could you say that about someone who kidnapped you.

Suddenly being inside, around all these people felt like it was too much.

Without another word, he turned and fled the building, not caring what any of them said.

This place was still new and unfamiliar and he didn’t know where to go. Everyone would probably guess that he would go back to his room, so instead he went in the other direction. For a while, he just wandered, until he found a ladder and climbed up onto a roof, looking out over the edge of this pocket universe.

It wasn’t fair. And maybe he was biased, or maybe he just knew his parent in a way none of them did. They weren’t a monster, they weren’t trying to destroy the world.

He would of stayed there all day, except he heard a voice calling his name. Val’s voice, apparently Icarus must of told her what happened and now she was looking for him.

He still felt conflicted about her. It has only been a day since he met her and now all of a sudden she was his mom. She was nice and everything, but there was still a part of him that was weary and unsure. Especially unsure about if he could trust her. But on the other hand, she sounded worried and he didn’t want her running around and worried sick about him..

With a sigh, he stood up and peered over the edge so she could see him. “I’m up here.”

The relief on her face was visible. “Oh, good.” She disappeared from sight and then he heard the sound of climbing, until she was next to him. “Dale? I heard about the argument. Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked, her relief morphing into concern.

He did and he didn’t. Everything was building up inside him, threatening to spill over and yet he didn’t want to let it out. But it finally won. “Everyone here thinks L.E is the worst person ever,” he finally said, his voice sulky. “And that they're some evil dictator who sits in a room all day, thinking about who to kill next.”

To her credit, Val only chuckled. “How about you come tell me what they're like to you? We’d see an entirely different side of them.”

“They were never mean or abusive to me, they were my parent.” The teenage boy said. “And they told me, the world used to have a bunch of world leaders but everyone was fighting each other and causing all these problems. They saw they could do good, so they decided they would unite the world under one leader. The war is over, they're rebuilding and will lead all the countries together moving forward. That doesn't make them evil.”

She nodded. “No, that doesn't make them evil. But their methods were undoubtedly wrong. Were you ever told about how they did it? Or the aftermath?”

Suddenly, he realized this conversation was going to be a repeat of the one he had with Darryl a few days earlier. “Yeah... they announced they would be president and people were against it, so they had to take it by force, but they only did that because they weren't accepted.”

“Back at the time, there were certain channels to go through to be the leader of a country. L.E disregarded those when people didn’t automatically accept their authority.” Val explained. She got a far away look on her face, staring off into the distance. “And when they took the world by force... It was horrible, I'm not going to lie. Even if they thought they were doing something good, they shouldn't have gone about things that way.”

Putting it that way, suddenly everything his parent had said didn’t seem quite so righteous anymore.

“How was it horrible?” He asked.

“There was a fight, a large one. I hadn't seen one like it in thousands of years…” She shook her head. “There were a lot of casualties. Not to mention the personal stuff that happened.”

“Like what?”

Val shifted slightly. “When Loki fought them in Manhattan, I was trying to get Icarus and Dare somewhere safe so I could rejoin the group and help. But we got separated, and the next thing I knew....“ Her face crumbled as her voice became downtrodden. “My spouse was dead. My friends were gone. My oldest child had been stolen and it seemed like I was never going to get him back, or even see hi-you again. The fact that none of that turned out to be the case doesn't erase the damage that was done.”

Dale didn’t know what to say. That part of the story had never been told to him.

As the silence became awkward, he quickly latched onto something else he remembered had been said earlier. “Darryl said... they used to live in his basement and they didn't care about anything but controlling people or about anyone but themself...”

A part of him hoped it wasn’t true, that Darryl had been wrong. He didn’t want to hear that they were a liar or the horrible things they had done. Finding out his hero was actually a terrible person was awful, hearing the person he loved, his parent, was even worse.

Val nodded and his heart sank.

“That's pretty much true.” She said. “They're able to care about people, obviously- but only as long as those people fit in their worldview. When they don't or when someone challenges that…”

Dale swallowed. “They told me they took me away because Loki drank all the time and it was too dangerous for me as a toddler to be around them.”

A harsh laugh left her mouth. “No. Loki and I drank a lot, yes, but at no point were you ever in danger. I promise you, the most danger you were in was getting slobbered on by their pet dogs.”

Another one of their lies. “Oh.” He responded, feeling stupid that he had believed them. He glanced up. “You really missed me..?”

She nodded and looked away but not before he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “So much. It felt like there was this gaping hole in my life and my heart. And you're my son, so... It never went away.” She choked out before wiping at her eyes.

“I barely knew about you…” Dale said, unsure of what else he could talk about. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. “They mostly talked about your spouse, but they said you two were drunks idiots who endangered me with your drinking and incompetence, so they had to remove me from the situation for my own good.”

“They didn’t know shit about me- I was never drunk around you kids. The worst you ever saw me was a glass of wine at dinner. I'm a lot of things, but saying I'd endanger kids is a blatant lie.”

“What about your spouse?” Dale asked.

“They drank some,” She answered, her voice steadier. “But not a lot around you. Most of the time when you were there they just... Played with you. Turned you into animals you wanted to be, or took you to the park. They're a good mum, too.”

“Oh.” More lies. Had anything they had told him the truth?

Val nodded. “ I know they cared about you, but the fact is they lied to you, a lot.” She said, reaching out to cover his hand with hers.

“So they are a terrible person?”

His mother nodded, without hesitation. “They are. They might have had good motives, but there was a lot of selfishness there too.”

The teenager’s shoulders slumped and he stared at her hand, covering his. She was so different from him and yet there was so much pain in her voice. Too much to be faked. He didn’t speak for several long seconds, trying to figure out what to say. “What was it like politically before them? Were they right about that?”

“You’d have to ask a human.” Val admitted. “I wasn’t here long enough to understand it.”

Dale sighed.” I’ll ask Darryl.” He paused. “Is Icarus mad at me?”

“He’s not mad.” She said as gently as she could. “He’s hurt though, what you said wasn’t very kind and he’s worried you don’t want to know him, he’s always wanted to meet you.”

“Oh... I didn’t...”

She looked closer at him. “Yeah. Do you know where the greenhouse is? He’s there. if you want to talk to him again.”

That was the last thing Dale wanted to do but it was something he needed to do. “I’ll talk to him in a bit.” He muttered.

“Alright then.” She stood up and walked away, leaving him alone.

It didn’t take long for Dale to find the greenhouse and even less time for him to find Icarus. The inside the greenhouse was warm, which was a bit annoying after growing up in Canada. His brother was there, like Val had said, he was bent over a row of plants and looked happier then he did a half-hour ago.

Dale watched him for a moment, this strange little brother that he knew almost nothing about. Part of him felt ashamed for what he had said, the other part still loyal to Foreldri. They were not a monster and he wasn’t going to let anyone call them one. But… he had still been unkind.

He wasn’t sure what to do or where to go when suddenly, Indigo was next to him. “Hey!”

“Hi,” he answered and glanced back toward the greenhouse. He should of been talking to his brother, but… he didn’t want to at the moment. Icarus looked happy, going in there would only ruin that. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She smiled and then looked concerned. “Are you okay? You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

“No… just found out almost everything I knew was a lie.”

Indigo face softened. “That sucks… But want to do something? I can show you some stuff.”

“Sure.” Anything would be better than thinking about what just happened.

“Great!” She grabbed his hand without hesitation and dragged him along through the city. For over an hour, she showed him all of her favorite spots, tree’s she liked to climb, the spot she first kissed a boy (although she didn’t tell him who) the spot where she had kissed a girl and the store that had the best cookies in the city before they finally picked a spot to sit down.

“Be careful,” She warned as the two of them settled behind a building. It was quiet, just a red glow from the sky. “There’s this black cat, that’s really mean. She’s scratched Killian and me before. Don’t touch her if you see her.”

Dale frowned but nodded. “Okay.” He said and changed the subject. “So, you’ve always lived here?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Since I was a little kid. I was six or something. I know there’s a war going on but my mom kept us really sheltered from it. Even before we lived here, I don’t really remember much of it.”

Dale nodded. “Yeah, it was kinda like that for me. I lived in Canada. It’s a country really far north.” He added when she looks a bit confused. “I never saw any fighting or anything. None of the war ever came close to our village. This whole thing has just been… crazy.”

“Do you want to go back?”

He paused, unsure what to say. That was a loaded question. “I don’t know.” He admitted and changed the subject. “Wasn’t your hair longer this morning?”

That made her smile and she flipped her dark hair, as it started to grow. “I’m a shapeshifter, like my mom. So my hair’s any length I want it to be. I can also change into a wolf.” She paused and then froze. “Don’t move.” She ordered.

The urge to bolt suddenly came over him but he managed to hold still. “What?” Dale whispered.

“It’s that cat.”

Moving very slowly, Dale turned his head to look. There, perched slightly above him, was a thin, pure black cat, peering down at him. She had large gold eyes and it seemed like she was studying him.

Indigo shifted slightly. “If she jumps on you, throw her off and run. I’ll turn into a wolf to scare her away.

Dale didn’t move, he just started up at her and then slowly raised his hand. Behind him, he heard Indigo whisper furiously not to touch her, but he ignored her. “Hi kitty.” He said.

The cat flinched and then narrowed her eyes. But he gently stretched forward and stroked her cheek and ear with two fingers. For a moment, neither moved. And then she leaned forward to rub against his hand cautiously.

As Indigo was behind him, Dale couldn’t see her, but he did hear the squeak of surprise she made.

“Don’t move,” he said and reached out to pull the cat into his lap. The small animal seemed shocked and then looked up at him with a look of contempt, but he didn’t move. She seemed to be debating whether or not to run away, but finally decided against it and sat down to start washing her ears.

“Wow…” Indigo muttered, reaching a hand forward toward the cat. She yelped when the offending hand was swatted harshly and yanked it back. “She likes you.”

Dale nodded and gently stroked the cat’s head. “Does she belong to anyone?”

“I don’t think so.”

He shifted and the cat jumped away but didn’t go far. In the darkness, he could see her eyes, soft and glowing faintly at she looked at him, as if she was waiting for him to make a decision.

Dale stood up and the cat moved closer. He didn’t think she would like it if he tried to pick her up yet, but she looked ready to follow. He made a small noise with his mouth as he started to walk and the cat bounded after him.

Indigo looked impressed. “You’re going to take her?”

“Yeah, if my mom lets me.” For the first time all evening, he smiled at her. “Thanks for bringing me here and talking to me. I appreciate it.”

A huge smile broke over her face, making the dimples in her cheeks come out and she blushed. “No problem.”

Halfway back to the house he now called home, Indigo waved goodbye and took off running in another direction. Dale waved goodbye and checked to make sure the cat was still coming. She wasn’t right behind him, something had caught her attention and she went to investigate it. He paused to wait for her and then realized it would probably be best if he asked first before bringing her into the house.

The closer he got, anxiety started to coil in his stomach. What if Icarus hated him and didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. If Val was forced to choose between him and Icarus, who would she choose? Was there a chance she would throw him out and make him leave, banished for causing too much trouble? Maybe it would of been better if he had just ran away and didn’t return to them.

Just as fast as the worry came, it was followed by a feeling of iron clad resolve. He had been raised by a powerful alien and the ruler of earth, he was no coward. Running away would not solve this or fix any issues. He would go back and apologize and if they didn’t want him around, then he would leave of his own accord.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw Icarus, sitting at the kitchen table. The younger boy glanced up in surprise and then frowned.

Dale spoke up before he could say a word. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” He said. “I shouldn’t have been so mad.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

A hurt look crossed the younger boy’s face. “That I’m not actually your brother….”

“Oh.” Dale sighed and sat down at the table next to him, shifting through all the thoughts in his head, trying to find the best thing to say. “No, I didn’t. I was just mad about what you said about them. I didn’t mean it... I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

Dale heistated. “Are you okay?”

Icarus nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He let the silence hang for a few moments before he changed the subject. “So Indigo told me about this cat that’s really mean to people and guess what? She didn’t attack me or anything. I was petting her and stuff and she let me.”

Icarus looked mildly surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah and she followed me for a bit, I hope she comes here.” He paused. “If she did, do you think mom would let me keep her?”

Icarus broke into a grin. “Oh yeah.” He assured him. “Uncle Darryl gets mad at her about it, but yeah. She wants us to be happy, especially during this whole war thing. When I was a little kid, I asked her to make it all stop. If Uncle Darryl hadn’t stopped her, she would have left me and Dare with him and gone to try and kill the Representative immediately. If you ask to keep the cat, she’ll say yes.”

A smile came across the older teenager boy’s face and he relaxed. “Okay, good.” He glanced around. “Where’s Dare?”

“With her friend. They spend all their time together.” Icarus launched into a story about their little sister and Dale sat back to listem, curious about this other sibling he hadn’t spent that much time with yet.

A few minutes later, Val came in the front door and a look of relief swept over her face when she saw them two of them sitting together, obviously not fighting anymore. “Hey guys!”

“Hi mom.”

“Hi mom.” Dale echoed. “Guess what, I found a cat. I don’t know where she went but if she comes back, can I keep her? Please?”

“Of course.” Val said, almost immediately and for the first time since the other Loki had shown up in his room, Dale felt something that was close to peace and happiness. He had a family that cared about, one that was around and now, maybe even a pet. Until he suddenly remembered.

“Has anyone heard anything about your spouse?” Or the other Loki? Are they back yet?”

The smile on her face disappeared and she shifted slightly, her gaze going to the window. “No.” She admitted softly.

And just like that, the happy feeling was gone again.

#ooc #my writing #Dale #Icarus #Val #Indigo #Killian #Dare #Onyx the cat #AU

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