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dailylogyn · 3 years ago

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Logyn Meta: Loki & Sigyn’s Family in Myth and Marvel (Comparison)

Photo Source: https://www.deviantart.com/youkai-no-shimo/art/Colouring-LOKI-s-FAMILY-260392721

The family that is ready to begin Ragnarok in order to defend your honor. It’s a tragic tale, but family is something worth fighting for!

Follow me as we explore this crazy, wonderful family that is probably the most famous of the Myth’s.

We may not know much about Sigyn’s side, but Loki’s side is one that legends are made of.

From the Norse Myths, to Marvel Comics and the MCU, we will see the similarities and differences for each member in the different universes as well as learn facts about each one and why they are important.

Laufey (or Nál) - Loki’s Mother

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

She is Loki’s Mother in Mythology.

Mostly mentioned by the matronymic, “Loki Laufeyjarson” meaning: Loki Laufey’s Son.

Her name (Laufey) is typically thought to mean leaves/foilage. Nal means Needle.

Not much is known about her. We don’t even know if she was a Goddess, human or giant so it is assumed Loki gets his godhood from her.

In the poem Sörla þáttr, Nál and Laufey are portrayed as the same person: "She was both slender and weak, and for that reason she was called Nál [Needle]."

Laufey is listed among Ásynjar (goddesses) in one of the þulur, an ancestry that perhaps led her son Loki to be "enumerated among the Æsir", as Snorri Sturluson puts it in Gylfaginning.

Related to nature like forests and leaves.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Laufey is Loki’s Father in this universe.

As Loki was born small, a motive of embarrassment for his parents, his existence was kept a secret.

A younger Loki sends Laufey into a fateful battle between Odin, leading the All-Father to claim Loki as a son. Laufey was left for dead, wounded, but alive, leaving a future Loki to kill him.

A group of Frost Giants try to revive Laufey by retrieving his skull. It ends with Malekith performing a spell to resurrect King Laufey.

Laufey hates Loki and thinks of him as a disgrace

It ends with Loki killing his father again after he tries to steal the Casket of Winters and kill Frigga.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Same as Marvel Comics Counterpart. Appears in the first Thor movie.

Fárbauti - Loki’s Father

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

He is Loki’s Father in Mythology.

Attested in the Prose Edda and in Kennings of Viking Age Skalds.

A Jotunn

The Old Norse name Fárbauti has been translated as 'dangerous striker','anger striker',or 'sudden-striker'.

Related to lightning

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Mother of Loki in this universe.

Gave birth to an unusually small child to the annoyance of her husband.

It is said the night Loki was born that she stabbed her own heart with an ice dagger, but Loki suspects Laufey is the one who killed her.

Appears as a figment taken on by a parasite. She’s mostly deceased in the comics.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Loki Laufeyjarson - Son of Laufey & Farbauti. Lover of Sigyn & Angrboda (and many others honestly)

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Everyone already knows the tales about Loki, so I won’t repeat it all again. It’s pretty lengthy. I’ll just point down the basics for him with it.

He’s famous for causing trouble among the gods as the Trickster and God of Mischief. Not a bad guy, but misinterpreted that way, although he can be a dick too. Despite how much he causes trouble for them, he also helps them out of situations too. He just wants to have fun, even if he takes it overboard at times.

Some sources put as Jotun and some say he is Half-Jotun, Half-Aesir (on his mother’s side.)

A well-known Shapeshifter who can be anything: Salmon, Male, Female, Horse. The list just goes on.

A really handsome being who loved to get it on. *finger guns*

Blood Brother’s with Odin. How? We don’t know. It’s interpreted as a friendship or foster-brothers. It’s unclear really.

Gonna start Ragnarok for valid reasons honestly after having his entire family taken away from him or killed by the Gods. #TeamLoki

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Far too many appearances to document here from 1942 to present. There has been some retcons as well with the fact the current Loki has been reborn in a new incarnation also known as Ikol.

In the comics Loki is the adopted son of Odin and Frigga and Adoptive brother to Thor & Balder.

He’s depicted as being the God of Evil in the classic comics serval times. In fact, it’s one of his titles.

Depending on the writer for the classic comics, Loki can have moments of humanity, but all around he causes trouble.

Just wants to rule Asgard and get rid of Thor who is his enemy.

He’s honestly a bad guy most of the time in the classic comics #VillianTrope

I personally have yet to read any current comics of Loki that aren’t the classics so this is where my knowledge and research stops.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

First off, Tom Hiddleston as Loki is just *chefs kiss* perfection.

Pretty much the same as comics except for the fact he isn’t really a villain. He plays tricks on people for fun and laughs and truly cares about his family.

However, things change when he discovers the truth that he is a Jotun and has been lied to about it his whole life despite being told countless stories of how Jotun’s are monsters to be slain (You fucked up a perfectly good kid, Odin. Look, he has anxiety and trauma.)

He develops major identity problems on top of others things, but despite it, Loki tries to still do best by his family as he wants to belong. Yes, he becomes a villain in The Avengers movie, but not for the hell of it. #Thanos

Honestly, he just deserves better. That’s where this leads. Thank you.

Angrboda - Loki’s Consort/Lover (Fenrir, Jormungandr & Hel’s Mother)

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

She is only mentioned once in the Poetic Edda as the mother of Fenrir by Loki. The Prose Edda describes her as "a giantess in Jotunheim" and as the mother of three monsters: the wolf Fenrir, the Midgard serpent Jörmungand, and the ruler of the dead Hel.

A Jotun known as Mother of Monsters and Giantess of Ironwood.

In Old Norse, Angrboda means: 'the one who brings grief', 'she-who-offers-sorrow', or 'harm-bidder'.

According to scholars, the name Angrboða is probably a late invention dating from no earlier than the 12th century, although the tradition of the three monsters born of Loki and a jötunn may be of a higher age.

Some scholars say she was a very powerful witch and that she had the ability to see into the future. She was confined to Hel and would not be released from the realm of the dead until Loki was unbound.

In some versions of the Myth’s she knows her children will bring about the end of the world (Ragnarok) as well as being a witch set on fire three times before Loki eats her heart.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

A giantess of Jotunheim and a Witch.

Born to Elderspawn Vârcolac and Echidna.

She mated with Loki and gave birth to Fenrir and Jormungadr. Legends say she also gave birth to Hela, but it seems to be nothing more but legends.

Angrboda died of unknown causes and was sent to the Underworld of Hel.

When Thor needed to know how to get to Hela's realm because she had been taking mortals to Niffleheim, he went to the Hlidskjalf and summoned Angerboda from the underworld, forcing her to tell him how to get there. Once she revealed to Thor the path he had to follow, she tried to take him with her to the underworld.

Only has one appearance in the comics -- Thor #360 (1985)

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Sleipnir - Loki’s Son

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Attested in the Poetic and Prose Edda. In both Sleipnir is Odin's eight-legged steed and child of Loki by Svaðilfari. He is described as the best of all horses.

The Prose Edda contains extra information saying he is grey.

Old Norse meaning: Slippy or the Slipper.

Sleipnir is also mentioned in a riddle found in the 13th century legendary saga Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks, in the 13th-century legendary saga Völsunga saga as the ancestor of the horse Grani, and book I of Gesta Danorum, written in the 12th century by Saxo Grammaticus, contains an episode considered by many scholars to involve Sleipnir. Sleipnir is generally accepted as depicted on two 8th century Gotlandic image stones: the Tjängvide image stone and the Ardre VIII image stone.

Scholarly theories have been proposed regarding Sleipnir's potential connection to shamanic practices among the Norse pagans.

Sleipnir was born when Loki shape-shifted into a mare and became pregnant by the stallion of a giant, as is recounted in the tale of The Fortification of Asgard.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

There are two different origins for Sleipnir in the comics: 1. Thor fighting off an army of the undead on Midgard. He promised to help as long as his horses weren’t eaten, however, Thor was betrayed and took his horses remains back to Asgard, coupling it with Asgardian Magic to create Sleipneir. 2. Loki had hastily agreed to let a Frost Giant re-build the wall around Asgard, in exchange for the Moon, the Sun, and Freya, only he had to do it in six months. The Frost Giant had only asked to use his grey stallion, Svadilfari. Right as the last brick was about to be placed, Loki transformed into a beautiful white mare, and lured Svadilfari off. Loki later gave birth to Sleipnir. (Just like in the Myths.)

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Odin’s eight-legged steed.

Sleipnir’s origins are unknown. He appears in the first Thor Movie.

Fenrir Wolf - Loki & Angrboda’s Son

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Attested in the Prose and Poetic Edda as the first son of the Jotun couple. He is a wolf destined to kill Odin. So, they bind and seal him when he's still young, with Tyr losing his arm in the process. When Ragnarok comes, he indeed kills Odin, but is killed by Odin's son Vidar in return.

Fenrir is the father of the wolves Sköll and Hati Hróðvitnisson.

In the Prose Edda, additional information is given about Fenrir, including that, due to the gods' knowledge of prophecies foretelling great trouble from Fenrir and his rapid growth, the gods bound him, and as a result Fenrir bit off the right hand of the god Týr.

No chain can hold him, except for Gleipnir, a rope made by Dwarves containing the roots of a mountain, the breath of a fish, the sound of a cat's footfall, the sinews of a bear, the beard of a woman and the spittle of a bird, all of which were impossible items to obtain.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Pretty much the same as his Mythos with some additional storylines.

When Raganrok happened, Fenrir was reborn with the other gods on the New Asgard universe on Midgard. No details of his fate on Earth have been revealed.

Fenrir helped the mutant Wolfsbane as she was carrying the child of one of his descendants.

It is one of the few individuals believed to be more powerful, or equally as powerful, as Dormammu; the others being galactic entities like The Beyonder.

Fenrir is Genderfluid in the comics.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Fenris is a giant Asgardian Wolf who serves under Hela and is portrayed as Female. She resurrects her as they take over Asgard.

Instead of being her brother, Fenris is her loyal companion and mount.

Fenris ends up getting into a fight against Hulk as he pushes her off, sending her falling into the void below to her supposed death.

Appears in Thor: Ragnarok.

Hel - Loki & Angrboda’s Daughter

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Attested in the Prose and Poetic Edda. She is a giantess/goddess who resides over the Underworld that is also called Hel, a place where many of the dead reside. She is the daughter of Loki and Angrboda, sister to Fenrir and Jormungandr and usually depicted as the youngest of the three.

Goddess of Death and Graves and ruler of Hel who welcomes the souls of those who died of old age, disease or by accident.

Hel is described as having been appointed by the god Odin as ruler of a realm of the same name, located in Niflheim.

The Prose Edda details that Hel rules over vast mansions with many servants in her underworld realm and plays a key role in the attempted resurrection of the god Baldr.

Old Norse Name Meaning: Hidden

She’s mostly mentioned only in passing. Snorri describes her appearance as being half-black, half-white, and with a perpetually grim and fierce expression on her face.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Renamed Hela in the comics.

Allegedly the daughter of Loki and Angrboda, but it’s never made clear or stated. Hela's genealogy is the subject of controversies and retellings.

Her path pretty much follows her Mythos where she is destined to do terrible things and Odin makes her the ruler over the dead in the realms of Hel and Niflheim until maturity.

At some point, she was considered the daughter of Odin and of a long-lost goddess.

Honestly, she usually tries to expand her powers, wanting to rule over Vahalla and obtain Asgardian souls.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU):

Appears in Thor: Ragnarok as Odin’s firstborn and only daughter. Sister to Thor and Loki.

Kinda pissed her dad locked her away and wants to rule Asgard and take revenge.

The cause of Ragnarok and supposedly dies on Asgard after everything is said in done in the movie.

Jormungandr - Loki & Angrboda’s Son

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Usually depicted as the middle child of Loki and Angrboda, he is known as the Midgard Serpent or World Serpent who is a giant snake. When Odin takes Loki’s kids away from him, he tosses Jormungadr into the ocean that encircles Midgard. The serpent grew so large that is was able to surround the Earth and grasp it’s own tail. When it releases it’s tail, Ragnarok will begin and he will fight his arch-enemy, Thor.

The major sources for myths about Jörmungandr are the Prose Edda, the skaldic poem Húsdrápa, and the Eddic poems Hymiskviða and Völuspá. Other sources include the early skaldic poem Ragnarsdrápa and kennings in other skaldic poems; for example, in Þórsdrápa, faðir lögseims, "father of the sea-thread", is used as a kenning for Loki. There are also several image stones depicting the story of Thor fishing for Jörmungandr.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Both Loki and Angerboda were descended from the Frost Giants of Jotunheim and were of humanoid appearance; however, the sons Angerboda bore Loki, Jormungand and the Fenris Wolf, did not. It has been suggested that Jormungand and the Fenris Wolf were born as sentient animals because their parents each had the magical ability to change his or her own shape. Hence, Jormungand and the Fenris Wolf each bear the form of the animal that their parents had assumed at the moment they were conceived.

Jormungandr follows the same as his Mythos to a certain degree with his fate to fight Thor during Ragnarok as the God of Thunder would die from his venom.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Sigyn - Loki’s Wife

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Sadly, not many stories that have Sigyn in them have survived to this day. She is only attested in the followings works: Poetic Edda & Prose Edda.

The most famous of her story tells of how Loki has been bound by the gods with the guts of his son, Nari, and how his son, Vari, has been turned into a wolf. The Goddess Skadi fastens a venomous snake over Loki’s face, from which venom drips. Sigyn, stated as Loki’s wife, stays by his side and holds a basin under and catches the venom so it won’t drip onto her husband, but when the basin grows full, she pulls it away to empty it, during which time venom drops onto Loki, causing him to wither so violently that earthquakes occur that shake the entire earth.

In the poem, Gylfaginning, Sigyn is introduced in Chapter 31 as being married to Loki and that they have a son by the name of “Narfi or Nari”. She is then mentioned again in Chapter 50 where events are described differently than in Lokasenna; Vali, described as a son of Loki only, is changed into a wolf by the gods and rips apart his brother, “Narfi or Nari.” The guts of Nari are then used to tie Loki to three stones, after which the guts turn to iron, and Skadi places a snake above Loki. Sigyn of course catches the venom in a bowl. This process is repeated until he breaks free, setting Ragnarok into motion.

In the poem, Skáldskaparmál, Sigyn is introduced as a goddess, an Æsir, where the gods are holding a feast for their visitors and in kennings for Loki: “husband of Sigyn” and “cargo [Loki] of incantation-fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms.”

Old Norse Name meaning: Victory Girlfriend.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Lonely and looking for female companionship, Loki ends up coming across Sigyn and plans to make her his. However, she is already engaged to a warrior of Odin’s Crimson Hawks -- Theoric. Hence, Loki sets up a trap to have Theoric killed during a mission so Loki can disguise himself as Theoric. Once they are wed, Loki reveals himself and despite Odin attempting to annul the marriage (which goes against Asgardian Law)), Sigyn tells the Allfather that she will follow the duties of a loyal wife since she is Loki’s now.

This is when Odin proclaims her to be the Goddess of Fidelity. This was a thing first started by the Marvel Comics.

Sigyn doesn’t have much of an agency in the comics except being a loyal wife to Loki, sometimes going along with his plans or getting on him for it.

I personally haven’t been able to find any evidence of Sigyn’s parents being Iwaldi and Freya in the comics, so I’m not sure if this fact is Fanon or not.

Sigyn has suddenly seemed to vanish from the comics with her last official appearance being in 1996. It has been allueded at that she died or was killed during Ragnarok.

Her relationship with Loki in the comics is...complicated and changes a lot depending on the writer.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

Narvi/Narfi & Vali - Loki & Sigyn’s Sons

NORSE MYTHOLOGY

Not much is known about Narfi and Vali except for being Loki & Sigyn’s sons with Vali being transformed into a wolf by the gods and killing his brother whose inners are used as a chain to bind Loki in the cave.

Narfi and Vali are referred to in a number of sources. According to the Gylfaginning section of Snorri Sturluson's Prose Edda, he was also called Nari and was killed by his brother Váli, who was transformed into a wolf; in a prose passage at the end of the Eddic poem "Lokasenna", Váli became a wolf and his brother Nari was killed.

Snorri also names "Nari or Narfi" as the son of Loki and his wife Sigyn earlier in Gylfaginning, and lists "father of Nari" as a heiti for Loki in the Skáldskaparmál section of his work.

Narfi’s name could mean “Corpse” in Old Norse, relating to how he was killed by his brother.

There's no mention of what became of Vali after he became a wolf.

MARVEL COMICS (Earth 616)

Narvi never makes an appearance in the comics and is only mentioned in: Free Comics Book Day Vol 2018 Avengers.

There is a Vali in the comics called Vali Halfling. He is the son of loki and a unnamed mortal woman. So, I don’t consider this to be the same Vali that is the son of Loki and Sigyn.

MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE (MCU)

Does not appear or have a reference in the MCU

_________________________________________________

Thanks for reading everyone. This required a bunch of research, but I hope this helps and has been educational. We only have what we can work with considering the surviving myths, but there is so many stories out there that we don’t know of that aren’t clear because of it.

I tried my best to cover everything I knew about them in Marvel too, but sometimes so many retcons is too much to keep up with. I know there may be some errors in places, but it’s the best I could get this with what we have to work with.

SOURCES:

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Laufey_(Earth-616)

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Laufey

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laufey

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fárbauti

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Farbauti_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Angerboda_(Earth-616)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angrboða

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Hela_(Earth-616)

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/giants/hel/

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/giants/jormungand/

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Jormungand_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sleipnir_(Earth-616)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleipnir

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Sleipnir

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/giants/fenrir/

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Fenris_Wolf_(Earth-616)

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Fenris

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigyn

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sigyn_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Narvi_(Earth-616)

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Vali_Halfling_(Earth-616)

https://norse-mythology.org/gods-and-creatures/the-aesir-gods-and-goddesses/loki/

https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Loki_Laufeyson_(Earth-616)

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Loki

https://skjalden.com/narfi-and-vali/

https://marvelcinematicuniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Hela

#logyn meta #logyn #sigyn #loki #Angrboda #laufey #farbauti #Sleipnir #hel #Jormungandr #Fenrir #narvi #vali #lokakindar #norse mythology #marvel #marvel comics #mcu

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spaceskam · 2 years ago

Text

cor aut mors

Summary: Choi San dies and Wooyoung isn't about to let him stay that way, regardless of how Seonghwa feels about it.

Pairing(s): Jung Wooyoung & Park Seonghwa, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa

Tags: character death, witch au, mentions of violence, grief, resurrection

for day 1 of whumptober, prompt no. 1 “this wasn’t supposed to happen”

ao3

Seonghwa had been the acting Supreme for the last ten years, keeping the peace that his predecessor hadn’t been able to and teaching young witches the way of the world, when things inevitably began to unravel.

On the 10th anniversary of him killing his Supreme and taking the reins, Park Songhwa was woken up to the sound of a phone call that had caused all the blood in his body to run cold. Two hours after that, he was staring at the unnaturally still body of Choi San laying under a sheet in the basement, awaiting a proper witch’s send off. A spell had gone wrong, curiosity getting the better of him and experimenting in things he shouldn’t have without supervision, and now this was where it had gotten him. It was the first Novice to die under the care of Gurim School of the Arts in a decade; the first Novice to die under the care of Park Seonghwa.

The guilt would’ve eaten Seonghwa alive, most likely, if it wasn’t his constant state already.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung whispered, clinging to his side as he stared at the lifeless form, “I don’t‒We thought‒He just‒ Hyung.”

Seonghwa held Wooyuong as he cried, shushing him as he tried to stabilize himself enough to tell Seonghwa what happened only to spiral again before he could get it out. It could easily be added to the list of the worst 30 minutes of Seonghwa’s life.

Or, it was, until the next 30 minutes happened and bumped it right off.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung said, head popping up and eyes painfully wide and bloodshot, “You have that book of spells under the floorboard, don’t you?”

Nausea tightened in Seonghwa’s stomach.

“Wooyoung-ah,” he said softly, petting his head, “We aren’t using that.”

“But why?” Wooyoung asked. It wasn’t often that Seonghwa was reminded that he was still so young and had so much to learn, he acted so sure of himself, but it was so clear in this moment that he wasn’t ready to be on his own. “Why can’t we? Why is he not worth it?”

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa said, grabbing his face gently so he would look at him, “It’s not that he’s not worth it, don’t say that. You know I would do anything to change this if I could.”

“But you can! You have a book with a spell that can bring him back and we’re wasting time!” Wooyoung argued. Seonghwa didn’t loosen his grip, didn’t let him move or look back to where San laid. It was the hardest thing Seonghwa had done in quite some time. “Hyung, please. Please. Do this and we’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I’ll be on my best behavior and I’ll be a good Novice and I’ll‒I’ll do whatever you want, please. ”

“Do you know why I won’t let you use that spell?” Seonghwa asked softly, wiping tears off his cheeks, “Because whatever that spell brings back, it won’t be San. It will be something violent and angry and untamable. It will be resentful, but with the power of a very passionate witch, do you understand why we can’t have that? It won’t be our San, and it will hurt so much more when we have to do something about it then. Trust me. Trust that I just want to keep you safe and you don’t want to experience that.”

Wooyoung’s bottom lip quivered and he sniffled, beyond distraught. And Seonghwa understood and wished there was something more he could do, wished that this was any other day with any other mishap. Why couldn’t it have been like when Yeosang accidentally singed his eyebrows off or when Hongjoong had sneezed mid-spell during their own training days and caused a power outage? Why did it have to end like this?

Why couldn’t Seonghwa be a better Supreme and know what was going on with his Novices?

Seonghwa pulled Wooyoung’s head to his shoulder, holding as sobs took over him again. And this was just the beginning. He’d have to break it to the others, to San’s parents who had taken a chance on him because he’d finally begun to change the bad name the past three Supreme’s had given this school, to his council who would no doubt look at him with pity because why did he think he could fix the curse this place must’ve had. He had to let down Hongjoong and all the promises they’d made.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. He made me promise I wouldn’t do anything stupid to get myself killed. Me. I promised. I didn’t think he needed a promise like that,” Wooyoung confessed, “He always took it so seriously, I never thought…”

Seonghwa let him cry until he ran out of tears and let him bounce back and forth between painful silence and anger and begging and sweet stories of them meaning to be together forever and travel the world. Seonghwa didn’t cry even though he wanted to. He stayed strong. He had to.

“Come on, go get some rest,” Seonghwa eventually said when Wooyoung’s eyes started to close once the events of the night finally began to catch up with him. Wooyoung shook his head. “Please. It’ll do you some good.”

A few more moments of persuasion later, Wooyoung stood up and made his way to San first. Seonghwa watched with a heavy heart as he kissed his forehead and pulled the sheet up to his collarbone in an effort to keep him warm and covered. Tears brimmed Seonghwa’s eyes, chest unbearably tight, and he blinked them away for his own wellbeing.

Seonghwa pulled Wooyoung out of the room and locked the door behind them, sealing it with a spell to keep everyone out. As much as he trusted his Novices, he didn’t trust the power of grief. San was loved in life and there was no doubt in Seonghwa’s mind that Wooyoung wouldn’t be the only one wanting to try their hand at bringing him back.

“Go back to your room, alright? Get some rest,” Seonghwa told him, gently pushing at his back towards the stairs. Wooyoung went up them in silence and Seonghwa was, for once, thankful that he had made the wise decision to room Wooyoung with Yeosang. Maybe it would hurt less not having to see San’s empty side of the room.

Maybe.

“Mmm.”

“Shh,” Hongjoong shushed, laughing softly as he scratched at Seonghwa’s scalp and furthering his descent into becoming putty in his hands, “Let’s not get caught.”

Seonghwa pouted and Hongjoong just smiled at him, pressing his thumb into his bottom lip before kissing him again with his thumb in the way. Seonghwa let his head fall to Hongjoong’s shoulder once the kiss ended and wrapped his arms around his middle. Hongjoong held the back of his neck, rubbed his back, rested his head on his, touched him everywhere he could.

“You’re going to be a great Supreme some day.”

They were sitting on the bathroom floor with the shower going to cover the sound of them speaking. It seemed like one of the only places within the house they could be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, even though they still had to whisper. It didn’t stop it from being one of Seonghwa’s favorite places.

Hongjoong made a face, nose scrunched up and lips downturned in disgust. Seonghwa’s gut twisted with adoration and he couldn’t help but squeeze Hongjoong’s ankle.

“I don’t want to be a Supreme,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa lifted his head and tilted it in intrigue because he most certainly thought he did. “I hate this whole system, Seonghwa. That title goes to people’s heads in the worst way. I want to be a leader in the way that I’m trusted and looked up to, but not in the way that they’ll have to hide in the bathroom just to talk. When I take over, I just want them to call me hyung and feel safe to call me when things get bad instead of hiding. I don’t want to contribute to the low life expectancy of witches these days.”

Seonghwa nodded, chewing the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling too wide. He wasn’t sure how much that helped. He was sure the adoration and awe was clear on his face. Especially when Hongjoong rolled his eyes and shoved at his chest.

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not,” Seonghwa said, “I think you’re incredible. I want to see you make it happen and I’ll be right by your side the whole time.

“Promise?” Hongjoong said, holding up his pinky. Seonghwa grinned and linked his with it.

“Promise.”

Hongjoong leaned forward to put his lips on the side of his hand and Seonghwa followed suit, staring at him over their linked fingers. It was all too easy to see a brighter future, one with freedom and comfort and safety and actual change when he looked into Hongjoong’s eyes. It was all there. Potential and passion and dedication. He would make a difference. And Seonghwa was going to support him every step of the way no matter how hard it got.

Their hands slowly dropped, allowing them to close the space between their lips in a soft kiss. Hongjoong grinned against his lips and reached for his thighs to tug him in closer before deepening the kiss. Seonghwa went with ease, draping his arms around Hongjoong’s shoulders. It was comfortable and familiar to have Hongjoong’s hand in his hair and playing with his clothes.

He never wanted to go a day without him.

One by one, his Novices came down for breakfast with sleepy faces, making their plates and taking a seat at the table. Seonghwa waited until he counted every single one, every designated seat full with two exceptions.

“I don’t mean to start your days off badly, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m hiding anything. So I have some unfortunate news,” Seonghwa said, slow and deliberate like he’d been practicing. Which he had, desperate to find the right words.

All of their attention was on him.

“Is Councilman Ahn coming to visit again? Because last time I think I upset him so I don’t know if I should be here when he does come,” Mingi said. Yunho flicked him in the arm.

“Maybe don’t put frogs in someone’s boots every night for a week.”

“He said he was immune to our spells, so I wanted to see if it worked on conjured frogs and it didn’t!”

“ Why would it work on conjured frogs?”

“Guys, please,” Seonghwa said, unable to be quietly charmed by their antics. Not when there was a body in his basement and a heartbroken witch upstairs, “Last night, San tried to perform a complex sealing spell on his own and something went very wrong. I did what I could, but he didn’t make it.”

The room fell completely and utterly silently. Looks shared between them and then with Seonghwa, all like they were expecting it to be a cruel joke. It wasn’t.

“So you mean…” Yunho said, blinking up at him owlishly, “...you mean my San? My roommate San?”

Seonghwa swallowed and nodded quietly, that aching guilt crawling up his throat.

Without another word, Yunho pushed his chair back and was stomping up the stairs. Mingi waited all of two seconds before running after him. Seonghwa didn’t try to stop them, didn’t feel he had any right to.

“Seonghwa hyung,” Yeosang said softly, “Where’s Wooyoung then?”

Seonghwa took a deep breath to reorient himself. “I sent him up to your room to rest, he had a long night.”

“But he wasn’t there when I got up,” Yeosang said, “I thought he had maybe spent the night with San, but…”

For the second time that morning, Seonghwa felt his heart drop to his feet.

“What do you mean he wasn’t there? He never came back into the room? Maybe he took a shower,” Seonghwa said, looking around the room. There seemed to be a unanimous agreement that no one had seen or heard a peep from Jung Wooyoung since last night. Not in any of the dorm rooms or bathrooms.

And then Seonghwa realized he hadn’t gone back to his own room‒where that book Wooyoung had been wanting was stashed. The book he gave up requesting quite easily.

Seonghwa ran.

He got to his room in record time, nothing obviously out of order, but the room all but reeked of Wooyoung’s magical signature. He was still learning how to conceal it and, well, in this situation, he clearly had no motivation to try. The panic rose even more within Seonghwa as he rushed to the basement door, so many thoughts fighting in his mind over what was the worst thing happening. His reputation would be tarnished, all of his hard work to create a safe place for Novice witches and would be discarded, he would have to put down the beastly shadow that was once Choi San, he’d have to deal with the repercussions of Jung Wooyoung’s second round of heartbreak.

He would have to relive the last thing he wanted to experience again.

The door to the basement was sealed shut, but not by his own seal. That had been crushed and doubled over with something stronger and maybe Wooyoung had been learning things from San. He specialized in binding and sealing‒a tricky artform once you got past the basics and something that led to his inevitable downfall.

After a few attempts to break the seal, Seonghwa finally managed to get the door opened, but a few of his Novices were already beside him and following him and he didn’t have the mindset to tell them to go away. He just needed to stop Wooyoung before things got out of control.

“Stop!” he yelled as he reached the basement floor, “Wooyoung, stop . Don’t do this.”

But Wooyoung was already sitting cross-legged on the table beside San, the forbidden book opened in front of him and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as he drew upon his own magic to pull what was left of San back into his body.

Seonghwa stopped in his tracks, holding out his arms to stop any of his other Novices from getting closer to Wooyoung.

“Go upstairs,” he said slowly, “And seal the door behind you. Seal us in.”

There were a few confused and concerned noises, but Seonghwa shook his head to tell them he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Trying to stop Wooyoung now would cause irreparable damage to him, his mind and body and magic connection, something he wasn’t willing to do. But when San woke up, he didn’t want anyone in the way for what he would have to do.

They listened begrudgingly, taking the seriousness in him, and sealed them inside the basement.

Resurrection spells that were actually effective were hard to find and banned by the council a century ago. It didn’t mean it didn’t still happen, but it also meant all the spells capable of it were ancient and reckless and born of greed‒a recipe for disaster.

From what Seonghwa knew of this spell, from what he learned from his Supreme who had a fascination with it and had done extensive tests, if performed within six minutes of the deceased person’s last heartbeat, they would mostly be themselves. They would still have their personality and their morals and most of their memories, but typically the trauma from dying and feeling themselves slip away was too much to cope with. According his Supreme’s journal, only one of these people had been able to reacclimate while the rest eventually committed suicide.

Each passing minute after, less of that person would be able to be found. It would be nothing but fragments. Memories and personality traits and little quirks and certain emotions would be lost to the world, but their magic was something that could never be snuffed out, even the little bit held by non-witches, and their strongest held emotions and instincts would be pushed to the forefront. Every single time it was anger and rage‒it was a fact of people Seonghwa didn’t like to think about too much.

He most certainly didn’t want to see it in the eyes of Choi San, sweet and affectionate at his core.

Once the spell had been completed, Wooyoung was pulled back into himself and he blinked a few times, Seonghwa standing to the side and readying himself for whatever was about to occur. Something traumatizing, more than likely. Something that would make the council shake their head with knowing sighs. Poor little Park Seonghwa, too confident for his own good, repeating past mistakes.

“San-ah,” Wooyoung said, tilting forward in his fatigue. Seonghwa was impressed that he could still speak or hold himself up at all. From his Supreme’s journals, it was an exhausting process that would drain him completely. “Sannie, can you hear me? Are you cold?”

Seonghwa swallowed harshly as he watched Wooyoung touch San’s cheek, watched him press a kiss into his skin that didn’t hold the same elasticity as it should. He took a few steps closer to Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung,” he said softly, “Step off the table.”

“No,” Wooyoung said, nose resting against San’s skin, “I’m not leaving him again.”

“I just want to keep you safe, Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa said, letting his desperation show more than he wanted to, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Wooyoung ignored him as he rested against San. Seonghwa just watched the still body on the table, waiting for the moment he began to animate. Waiting for the moment the anger filled every inch of his body, waiting for the moment he became a being of uncontrolled magic. Waiting for the look that haunted Seonghwa’s nightmares, the empty and hateful gaze of someone he cared for‒an all too familiar replication of the last straw that caused him to finally stop his Supreme.

“When he kills me‒and he will, you know how much I threaten him,” Hongjoong had told him late one night, curled against him in the tiny single bed, “I need you to kill him.”

“Stop saying things like that, I’ll keep you safe, we’re almost out of here anyway,” Seonghwa had said, fear suffocating his young body as he held Hongjoong closer.

“Be serious,” Hongjoong said, lifting his head to look at him dead in the eye, “It’s going to happen. I’m strong, but he’s still stronger. So when the time comes, I need you to take him down while he’s weak.”

“Joong-ah, I‒”

“Promise me,” Hongjoong had said, grabbing his wrist and squeezing so hard it hurt, “Promise me that you’ll stop him. That’ll be our only chance. He needs to be stopped. This has to end.”

“Okay. I promise.”

A week later, Hongjoong missed their planned date and Seonghwa had to do what needed to be done.

He didn’t want to do this again. He didn’t know if he could.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung whispered, voice broken and desperate, “Why isn’t it working? Why isn’t he waking up? I-I thought I did everything right.”

“It may have been too long,” Seonghwa said softly. He hoped and prayed to any being that might listen that it had been too long or that Wooyoung had done something incorrectly or maybe just wasn’t powerful enough to bring what was left of San back into his body. He didn’t want to go through this again.

Not for the first time since Seonghwa had taken over, he wished Hongjoong had been here to help. He would know what to do. He was always the better leader.

“No,” Wooyoung said, “It’s only been a few hours! It can’t be too long.”

“Young-ah,” Seonghwa said, “Please. Maybe it’s a sign. We need to just give him a proper burial and‒”

Just like Seonghwa’s nightmares, San’s body flinched and silenced them both. He and Wooyoung held their breath as San flinched again and then again before beginning to shake violently. Wooyoung, reckless and refusing to listen like always, threw himself onto San.

“Wooyoung, get back!” Seonghwa said, moving forward to grab at the back of his shirt and pull. He wouldn’t budge. “Wooyoung, please. ”

“San-ah, can you hear me? Come on, San-ah, come on. That’s it, you’re so strong, you can do this,” Wooyoung cooed with a shaky voice, stroking his cheeks.

The shaking subsided. Which meant they had mere seconds before San lost control completely.

Seonghwa reluctantly let go of Wooyoung and took a few steps back, feeling for the pocket knife he kept on him and preparing himself. His heart was thudding in his ears and he just wanted to pull Wooyoung off, to hold him and say he understood and to beg him to get away. He didn’t want him to go through what Seonghwa went through. He didn’t want anyone to.

“Hi, baby, hi,” Wooyoung said as San’s eyes opened. Seonghwa swallowed hard and blinked away the tears in his eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Seonghwa had said, holding Hongjoong as his eyes slowly opened. Their Supreme laid in a pool of his own blood, Seonghwa having waited with foreign anger for the moment he’d slumped over after completing the spell to strike. It was almost too easy to take his life. Easy when he was vulnerable, easy when Hongjoong laid on the ground beside him with ligature marks on his neck. “I’m here, baby, it’s over. I-I told you I’d keep you safe, I told you I‒”

Except it wasn’t Hongjoong anymore.

Wild eyes locked on him, his best friend and partner long gone and instead angry, animalistic snarling taking the place of his beautiful voice. It hadn't even been that long. Hongjoong clawed at him with carefully manicured nails, digging into his face, refusing to stop or listen. It wasn’t Hongjoong.

It didn’t make it any easier watching the life drain from those eyes for a second time at Seonghwa’s own hand.

The scar on Seonghwa’s cheek ached suddenly, the last mark Hongjoong had ever left on him‒this one permanent and a reminder. Seonghwa was so sick of reminders. Seonghwa was so sick of the bad. Things had been going too well the last decade and although his bed was empty and a piece of him was dead and the grief was unpredictably suffocating, he had been so content. It felt good to make a change.

But apparently he never changed much at all if he was back in this basement with that same book and with a dead man rising.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa said, warning and desperate.

And like clockwork, San let out that all too familiar animalistic snarling that had Seonghwa’s body tense and running hot. He could feel his magic well up in him in his agony at this happening again , like a human bomb that would explode at any moment.

Wooyoung acted faster than Seonghwa had with Hongjoong, pinning San down with his own body. He pinned his hands above his head and pressed the toes of his boots into San’s ankles to hold him in place even as San struggled to be let go.

“Choi San,” Wooyoung said, tone even and firm. Seonghwa felt foolishly frozen in his spot. “Choi San, my Sannie, my love . I’m Jung Wooyoung and you are Choi San. You collect plushies and you like romance novels and video games. Your first spell was a mending spell you only learned because you ripped a shirt at school and you were scared of what your mom would say. Seonghwa hyung is in here with us, but the last place you were at was the cemetery on Oakwood Street. It’s warmer here than it was out there.”

Slowly, San fought him less and less, almost like he was listening, just the sound of Wooyoung’s sure voice and San’s erratic breathing. Even more dread crawled beneath Seonghwa’s skin‒a different kind, something worse that made him hurt.

Wooyoung went on. “We’re currently in the basement at Gurim School of the Arts and it’s the building where we met. I came a few months after you and I still remember the first time I saw you. I just knew we were meant to be. Everyone knew it. We are supposed to grow old together and we are supposed to love each other until the end, until we die and our magic finds two new bodies to be born into and they’ll find each other and love each other just as much because you and I both know this didn’t start with us and it won’t end with us. But you promised me you would kiss me in front of the Eiffel Tower like cheesy tourists and you can’t leave me before then. Choi San doesn’t break promises.”

“Ch-Choi San,” San said, stilted and scared, but listening. Repeating. Speaking.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Wooyoung cooed, releasing one of his hands to stroke his cheek, “You’re Choi San.”

“Choi San.”

Seonghwa dropped his knife to the ground and tears welled up in his eyes.

“Your roommate is Jeong Yunho. You like to take cold showers and you sweat in your sleep no matter how cold it is or how little clothing you wear. Yunho freezes trying to keep you at a normal body temperature because he’s worried about what happens when a witch overheats,” Wooyoung said, laughing softly, “You are passionate and strong and talented. You’re one of the best witches I’ve ever met in my life and I have never been more proud of someone. I love you, I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

“Wooyoung?” San said, slow as he worked his lips around the word.

“Yes,” Wooyung said, “Yeah, that’s me. Good job, baby, you’re doing so good.”

There were very few things Seonghwa regretted in his life. One was believing his Supreme was a good person for as long as he did, another was not stealing Hongjoong away before their Supreme killed him. And now not trying to reason with Hongjoong more when he woke up, not trying to console him and comfort him, remind him who he was and soothe his fear. Because he was scared. Hongjoong was scared and Seonghwa had not thought twice about his Supreme’s findings, that whatever was brought back was not human. Because he was too stupid to try to save someone who meant the world to him.

Seonghwa fell to his knees, chest tight with horror and pain to a degree he wasn’t familiar with. His whole body throbbed and ached with the new knowledge. It was hard to breathe. He didn’t even try. A decade had gone by thinking he ultimately did the right thing even though it was hard, because things were peaceful and Hongjoong knew what was going to happen. And he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa whispered, hand rubbing over his heart as his body shook.

“Hyung?” Wooyoung asked, looking over at him despite the fact that San was alive and breathing beneath him, “Hyung, are you alright?”

He shook his head no. He was far from alright. It wasn’t long before he was completely on the floor, unable to breathe and horrified with himself. A decade he’d told himself his actions were worth it. A decade of thinking he did what was best, all he could do.

A decade and he didn’t even try.

Seonghwa had never felt quite like this in his life. He'd done so many things he wasn't proud of, most of which he knew he did for a good reason, but this. How was he supposed to recover from this?

He felt hands on him and saw Wooyoung's face hovering over him, eyebrows pulled together in concern. Seonghwa’s ears were ringing, the world around him spinning as his body throbbed and ached in ways he had no way to ration with it. He didn’t see a way he could ever cope with this. Maybe the council was right to doubt his ability to take over; he had never been able to think for himself. He’d always done as he was told. He could’ve had a lifetime with Hongjoong. Years of running a school together, years of falling into bed together, years of unbridled trust and love and safety‒all if he’d just thought for himself for one goddamn minute.

Hands were on him and Wooyoung’s face slowly came into view, leaning over him with his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Hyung, this is a weird way of punishing me for ignoring you and stealing from you,” Wooyoung said, voice drained despite the joke. It seemed like all at once he was hit with the fact that his Novices were here and that the one who’s body he had carried into his basement was alive again.

Seonghwa scrambled to his feet and headed towards San, forcing the horror of the situation to be forgotten. It had to be. He could deal with himself later. This wasn’t about him. It was never about him.

San was still, eyes closed and head lulled to the side, but his chest rose and fell with each breath. Proof of life. Seonghwa checked his pulse on his wrist and then moved his hand to his stomach, eyes closing as he channeled all of the pent up magic in his system to check San’s magic. It was noticeably lower than normal, but it was there and palpable.

“I used a resting spell because he was going to hurt himself with how scared he was, but he’s breathing,” Wooyoung said, pushing San’s hair back, “He’s alive. Hyung, that spell really works. I told you he was worth it.”

Seonghwa swallowed harshly and bowed his head.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa said slowly, “All of the records from every time that spell has been performed, I don’t know if any of them had tried to remind them of themselves in that way. It was always assumed they were no longer themselves, no longer human, but… It has never crossed my mind until tonight that maybe they were just scared. And almost every time recorded, they were brought back by the person who murdered them, so of course they would be violent.”

“I don’t know how much I believe that,” Wooyoung said. Seonghwa looked over at him in question. “That every single time it was by the person who killed them. Like, that kind of spell is created to bring someone you love back and you don’t kill someone you love.”

Seonghwa thought of the ligature marks on Hongjoong's neck and the stab wound that followed. He thought of all the blood he spent hours scrubbing from his skin and sometimes still felt like remained. He thought of whispered 'I love you's with mischievous smiles knowing they were doing something their Supreme wouldn't approve of.

"I suppose," Seonghwa said.

"Hyung," Wooyoung said, bumping his shoulder into Seonghwa's but not really pulling away after. Wooyoung melted against his side within a couple seconds, fingers curling around his arm like a child. A reminder that he was still scared despite his bold move and his success; a reminder that Seonghwa was his Supreme. "What happens next?”

He would have to tell his other Novices that San was, in fact, alive. He would have to speak with the council. They would have to see what was actually changed in San, bearing with him as he adjusted after something traumatizing. He would need somewhere safe to adjust and heal; somewhere, hopefully, away from the council’s eyes. Seonghwa didn’t have time to punish himself for what he’d done‒he just had to be better for these people who looked up to him and needed him. As much as Seonghwa didn’t feel worthy of that position, he was always keenly aware that everyone who was worthy didn’t make it this long. Hongjoong didn’t make it this long.

He would have to do.

“I think we need to make some changes around here,” Seonghwa said.

“What kind of changes?” Wooyoung asked, mindlessly reaching out to put his hand on San’s chest right over his heart.

This was a new life. This was a second chance.

Seonghwa would do what he set out to do a long time ago.

“Have I ever told you about Kim Hongjoong?”

“I think you’re going to be a great leader,” Seonghwa whispered, nuzzling into Hongjoong’s chest, “I’m still here because of you. So are a lot of other Novices. You’re the only reason I haven’t begged my parents to pull me out of here yet.”

Hongjoong was quiet for a moment before he said, “Maybe you should.”

“Hm?”

“Maybe you should beg them to pull you out,” Hongjoong said. Seonghwa lifted his head and looked at Hongjoong with furrowed eyebrows, confusion coursing through him. Hongjoong didn’t falter. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. We’ve already lost three people within the last month. Supreme Chu is getting a lot more bold and not caring if people catch on and I don’t think the council has any intention to remove him. I really, really don’t want you to be added to that list.”

“I’m not going to. And you aren’t either. We stick together, right? He can’t get us if we’re together. We’re going to make a difference here,” Seonghwa insisted. Hongjoong gave him that look, the one that belonged to someone much older and jaded than his age allowed, the one that said Seonghwa was naive and too hopeful.

“Seonghwa, if something happens to me, then, will you still make a difference?” Hongjoong asked him. Seonghwa wanted to argue, wanted to say that it would never happen so there was no point in talking about it. But he was familiar with that look on Hongjoong’s face, was familiar with the desperation.

“Yes,” Seonghwa said, “I will.”

He would.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung #choi san #kim hongjoong #whumptober2022 #no.1 #this wasn't supposed to happen #fic #ateez fic #character death #witch au #grief #ressurection #my fic

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qqueenofhades · 3 years ago

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26 for Helnik 💙 (I know, I know, I'll see myself out)

26. Love Beyond Death

Nina is dreaming again, and as ever, she does not want to wake up.

She doesn't know where they are. Nowhere they have ever been in life, at least. Matthias never set foot in Ravka, and if this is Fjerda, it's far from the Ice Court and the spartan cells of the witch hunters and Jarl Brum's pitiless cold eyes. She doesn't think so, though. They wanted to run away somewhere entirely new, and maybe this is that place. It's a garden, the sunlight is clear and strong, and whenever she finds herself walking the hedge-paths toward the fountain at the center, her heart leaps. She knows he will be waiting, and he is.

"Nina," he murmurs, and she can feel it, feel his voice rumbling in his chest, after she's run to him and thrown her arms around his neck, as he holds her close and nothing, no fiber in her, can possibly believe that he is not alive. Because he is alive, he is here, tall and blond and stubborn and stupid as usual, smiling down at her, as if this is some strange halfway-between place where they can still meet. Maybe it is. Nina is the Corpsewitch, after all; the one who can command the dead to do her bidding, and she has never let go of Matthias, not for a day. Not really, not truly, not in her memories or in her dreams or her love. Why shouldn't she be able to bring him here, and see him again?

They stand together, hugging silently, Matthias's chin resting on her tumbled hair. After a while, he says softly, "How are you?"

"Not.... not that good." Nina snorts unsteadily. She wants to ask the same of him, but what can the answer be except dead? Unfairly, unjustly, long before his time, and she has never quite relinquished the idea of doing something about it, reversing the course of fate, figuring out the darkest Grisha arts if need be. She knows that he doesn't want that for her, to lose herself in pursuit of a hopeless dream, but it's not hopeless, that's the thing. His body is still perfectly preserved beneath the ice, and her power has fundamentally changed. If she was able to restore life to what has died, why not him? Why not them? Why?

"Matthias." She looks up at him. "What if I could find a way to do -- to do it? To bring you back? Would you... want that?"

Her voice cracks on the end, just because she's afraid that he will refuse, that he will whisper it again -- Little red bird, let me go -- and her selfish heart won't be able to stand it, even if she has to abide by his wishes. He frowns, looking at her worriedly, and says in a bossy voice, "Nina, don't do anything foolish."

She chokes. This has to be him, unless her memory is conjuring him with truly faultless accuracy, because nobody else can master that knack of simultaneously concerned and patronizing. "You let me worry about foolish, drüskelle."

"Well," Matthias says slowly. "Obviously, yes, I want to be alive again. I want to be -- to be with you. But your life will have changed, gone on, and it wouldn't be the same. I don't -- I couldn't bear if it you were unhappy as a result."

"Unhappy?" Nina laughs, breaking perilously close to tears. "Unhappy? You think I've been anything but unhappy since it -- since you -- since everything? It wasn't fair, Matthias. It wasn't right. Some stupid random drüskelle kills you and my own power can't be used to save you? I don't accept it. I'll do it, I'll find a way. But only if you want. If you want to stay here -- if you want to be at peace -- I'll understand."

It rips her heart out to say, but she does, and waits in unbearable silence. Matthias's eyes crinkle up at the edges, soft and wanting, and he touches her chin. "Oh, Nina," he says. "You're still the bravest person I have ever known."

"Thanks." She sniffs undignifiedly. "So...?"

"If you can find a way to do it and keep your soul," Matthias says, "you have my blessing to try. I can't stand it either, you know. If I came back and you... weren't you."

"Okay," Nina whispers, stretching herself toward him, and they kiss for what might be the very last or the very first time, the end of their lives together or just the beginning; when she wakes up, it is up to her to determine which. "Okay. Okay. Okay."

[spooky season fic prompts]

#fic prompts #spooky prompts #helnik #helnik ff #matthias x nina #anon please know that i hate you deeply for doing this to me #anonymous #ask

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willow-salix · 3 years ago

Text

TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project, @misssquidtracy . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing.

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it.

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves.

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?”

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?”

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly.

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely.

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs.

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag.

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk.

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.”

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed.

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table.

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.”

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all.

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly.

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her.

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?"

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work.

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more.

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?"

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay.

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room.

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project.

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him.

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him.

"What are you even doing?"

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall.

"Why?"

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop.

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best.

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name.

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay.

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite.

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance.

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer.

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite.

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest.

"So, what are you doing?"

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting.

"The same one?"

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions.

"Why?"

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done.

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned.

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile.

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey."

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon.

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong.

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him. He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all.

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there.

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John.

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to.

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job.

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand.

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.”

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all.

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy. Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect.

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin.

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!”

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain.

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?”

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

“It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation.

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted.

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday.

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed.

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!"

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed.

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted.

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding.

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones.

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time.

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?"

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper.

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon.

"A ship?" Gordon frowned.

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see.

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life.

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience.

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted.

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together.

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue.

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

“Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly.

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room.

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand.

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.”

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there.

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk.

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him.

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it.

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him.

“Never,” Gordon agreed.

-x-

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other.

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father, but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all.

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body, especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy.

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole.

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end.

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time.

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect.

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered.

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer.

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell.

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat.

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles.

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary, feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with.

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John and things had never been the same again.

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #TAG Mini Bang 2021 #TAGMiniBang2021

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destielharlequinchallenge · 4 years ago

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The Destiel Harlequin Challenge Master Post: 2020 Mega Bang

Participants in the 2020 Destiel Harlequin Challenge completed an amazing 20 fics and 3 sets of artwork! You can learn all about those here!

Spectre (fic by a_dusky_gold, art by aceriee)

This whole thing… this was supposed to be a fucking farce. A way to keep Nicholas Vaught occupied until the deadline he’d given Dean would run out, and he’d still get the money to send Dad to the Town Hall rehabilitation for alcoholism, because that was the goddamned deal.

There were no such things as ghosts or magic or a Book of Life. Dean knows, okay? He wasn’t the Army’s goddamned Mystery Raider for nothin’; he knows history, he knows artifacts, and he knows that the Book of Life is an ancient myth that is about as real as werewolves or vampires.

And yet.

“The Book of Life,” the man had said. Dean can’t even remember his name.

Shit, shit, shit.

Dangerous Ground by Amethystaris

Special Agents for the Department of Diplomatic Security, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have been partners and best friends for three years, but everything changed the night Cas admitted the truth about his feelings for Dean. And when Cas was shot a few hours later, Dean felt his reluctance to get involved was vindicated.

Can a camping trip in the High Sierras save their partnership?

Honour Undressed by andimeantittosting

Among his friends, Castiel, Lord Milton is everyone’s confidant and, along with his trusted valet, the fixer of problems. But there is one secret Castiel has never shared: he is in love with his valet and has been for years.

Born in the gutters, Dean Winchester was assigned as Castiel’s batman in the war, and when Castiel travelled home to take up his title, Dean followed him as his valet. To assist Castiel, Dean is not above a little burglary or blackmail. But the one thing he wants for himself is Castiel’s heart.

When Castiel’s closest friends become the target of a blackmailer, certain truths come out. But while Dean determines to seduce Castiel, Castiel is adamant that he must resist, for if there is one rule a gentleman must follow, it is never to dally with his servant.

Havenport by BlueMasquerade

Castiel cleared space on his desk by the expedience of sweeping the previous contents to the side. He set the bundle down in the center of the surface and studied the knots in the rope before expertly untying them.

The book was old, its leather bindings cracked and crumbling. He carefully opened the cover to reveal the pages within, each hand cut, the edges beautifully deckled, the text written in pen and ink.

“This is written in ancient Enochian.” Castiel looked up, gaze narrowed. “Where did you obtain a book written in ancient Enochian?”

“Is that what it is? All I could tell is that it sure as hell isn’t English.” Mr. Winchester grinned, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

an aching in my heart by contemplativepancakes

When Dean’s best friend dies, leaving behind her daughter, Dean knows he has what it takes to give Claire the life she deserves. The problem is, they’re not related by blood, and Claire’s long lost uncle gets called to take her in. Castiel Novak was bad news when he was in highschool with Dean, and judging by his blue hair and tattoo sleeves, nothing’s changed. Castiel ran out on his family once before, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let that happen to Claire without putting up a fight.

Fools and Fate by Danica_Dust

Castiel Novak fled his coven to escape the rigid, predetermined Fate laid out for him within its confines. Desperate and alone, he took shelter in the city of Sacriloga, forsaking all magic and living off whatever he could steal. There, witches like Cas are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.

When Jack, a young witch also on the run from his own coven, seeks out Cas’ aid, however, Cas finds that he cannot reject the boy, leaving him to his sure destruction. Especially after the newest visitor to Sacriloga makes his presence known: the legendary Hunter, Dean Winchester, who has been following Jack’s trail.

Sworn to the Men of Letters, Hunters live by one principle: thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Dean’s path was never meant to cross with Cas', but a desperate stunt and a single mistake forces them into an impossible union—holy matrimony.

The war between the witches and the Men of Letters is an ancient one and Cas' most dangerous enemies bring a Fate worse than fire. Unable to ignore his growing feelings, yet powerless to change what he is, a choice must be made.

A suffocating Fate on one hand. A precarious freedom on the other. And in between, the kind of love that makes fools of us all.

Ozone by Deancebra

A young magic user who wants desperately to live. A jaded recluse who has forgotten what living means. They’re each other’s only chance.

Dean’s wild magic is killing him. The mage guilds have given up on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he dies in a spectacular, catastrophic bang. His only hope is an exiled wizard who lives in seclusion—and is rumored to have lost his mind.

The years alone on his hilltop estate have not been good for Castiel Novak. After the magical accident that disfigured him and nearly destroyed the village, he drifts through his days, a wraith trapped in memories and depression. Until a stricken young man collapses on his driveway, one who claims Castiel is his last chance. For the first time in fifteen years, Castiel must make a choice—leave this wild mage to his fate or take him in and try to teach him, which may kill them both. The old Castiel, brash and commanding, wouldn’t have hesitated. Castiel the exile isn’t sure he can find the energy to try.

A Demon Like Him by EllenOfOz

Dean Winchester doesn’t want to be a warlock. The idea of working in a lab, channeling demonic magic into enchanted batteries is not what he wants to do with his life, but it’s a dangerous opinion to have—his father was a powerful and well-connected warlock, and Dean is expected to follow the family tradition.

His only way out is to fail the demon summoning class—failure means expulsion from the Warlock College. Despite Dean’s best efforts to fumble the summoning, it works. Although not the way anyone expects.

Dean’s demon, Castiel, is an incubus, but also a powerful mage on a mission to rebalance the magic that is being stripped from Demonside by warlocks.

Dean must choose: fail out of his final exam and turn his back on becoming a warlock, or help Castiel and graduate. But he doesn’t count on how hot the incubus is, or how close they have become in just a few days.

A Working Relationship by fangirlingtodeath513

The homes that Castiel Novak designs for Angelic Houses are to die for. They’re pristine, perfectly designed and organized, and they’ve caused more than a few bidding wars. It’s the perfect job—he’s organized, good with math, and he’s able to pick up on design trends relatively quickly. The only thing that isn’t perfect? His obnoxious older brother, Luke. Castiel’s been vying for a position on a flipping team for years now, but Luke has never even considered it. When a lecherous gossip reporter overhears an argument, they receive an offer they can’t refuse.

They’re invited to compete on Flip Off, a competition where two people flip houses and compete for the highest profit. Castiel wants the leverage a win would bring him, but he also wants to prove himself. Enter Dean Winchester, a contractor with his own team and one that’s blissfully unconnected to Angelic Houses, allowing Castiel to prove himself without any help from the family company.

The undeniable attraction between them certainly doesn’t help matters, but Castiel is resolute in his decision to make a move only after they’ve finished working together. At least, that had been his plan until Dean made him an offer he simply couldn’t refuse.

Crashing In by followyourenergy

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Make Me Believe by GhoulsnHalos

Ten years ago, Castiel Novak’s stepfather disowned him, taking from him his place as hereditary heir to the head of the Hunter and Warrior Guild. Now, he’s a self-made, and celebrated, master gem and metal smith. Castiel doesn’t believe that the God’s decide your soulmate. Until he designs what can only be a gift fit for his soul mate, who in contradiction to the etiquette, if not the laws of Neffroen, must be a man.

Dean Winchester is convinced that he is a lowly, dumbass, no magic hunter who couldn’t possibly be on the same social scale as a Novak. So, why is it when he spots the jewelled torc in Castiel’s shop, Dean develops an obsession over the neckpiece and its creator? It can't be anything to do with the will of the Gods, no matter what anyone says, because that's baloney and Dean's not into men.

When Castiel’s long-lost brother turns up and suggests he ought to challenge their stepfather and that Dean is destined to help Castiel rule the clan, Castiel takes some convincing. The real problem is Dean. Can Castiel with the help of family and friends convince Dean of his place by Castiel’s side? Can Dean play the part everyone expects of him to help Castiel regain his rightful place in society?

Shielded Heart by JuniperJones

Arthos, the Infinite City, is a place of alien wonders and indescribable beauty—and, most importantly for Dean, it’s also halfway across the universe from his abusive ex-fiancé. He came to the city desperate for a fresh start, but he finds himself downtrodden on a world of aloof alien beings with little hope of finding his place—and a good chance of being kidnapped or killed before he can even settle in.

At least until he is saved by an irresistible alien with piercing eyes and a seductive smile.

Castiel is the living embodiment of temptation, and he makes no effort to disguise his desire for Dean. But when his past threatens to drag Dean into a dangerous underworld, Dean discovers Castiel isn’t who he claims to be. After enduring so much suffering, can Dean bear to take a leap of faith with this mysterious alien? Can he trust Castiel with not only his life, but his heart?

Stumble and Fall by Kitmistry

Castiel was raised to do one thing: serve his country, whether that was fighting a war or becoming an expert spy. But when his lover is charged with treason and executed Castiel defects. He has evidence that can destroy the KGB’s entire spy ring in New Mexico, he has names of scientists involved with atomic weapons who send information to the Soviets, and he won’t stop until he has revenge.

Putting all his trust in the Americans, Castiel finds himself under the protection of U.S. Marshal Dean Winchester, who is too cocky and attractive for his own good, but at least seems to know what he’s doing.

When a routine transfer to a safehouse goes horribly wrong, Castiel and Dean narrowly escape with their lives. With the Marshals compromised and Castiel being framed for murder, he and Dean are on the run from KGB and law enforcement alike. They have no one to trust except each other, and nowhere to go that their enemies can’t reach.

The Shots We Don’t Take by MandalaRose

Still nursing the tatters of a broken heart and trying desperately to stave off the terror of his impending graduation, college senior Cas Novak decides it’s time to blow off a little steam. Not just any hook-up will do, however. The last thing Cas needs right now is a distraction. On the lookout for someone he can enjoy a steamy night of passion with before leaving them behind entirely, Cas thinks he’s found exactly what he needs in cocky university hockey star and well-known playboy Dean Winchester.

Dean is gorgeous, doesn’t date, and is the singular most infuriating person Cas has ever met. He’s the perfect one night stand...that is, until Dean decides he wants an instant replay of what was supposed to be a one-time event. Will Cas’ offer of friends, sans benefits, convince the arrogant love ’em and leave ’em hockey defenseman to find an easier score? Or will Dean wear down Cas’ defenses and lure the sexy nerd in the dorky trenchcoat back to his bed?

Bullets Over the Bayou (fic by mattzerella_sticks, art by dontbelasagnax)

Everyone wants Castiel Novak to quit the force, including Castiel. But he stays on despite the toxic work environment he’s surrounded by. Still believing he can do some good despite the many lines of red tape impeding him. Luckily, a pair of scissors by the name of Dean Winchester drops into his hands, and he finally feels like he can do some good.

Dean Winchester thought he would be in New Orleans for a day or two. Identify the body of his deadbeat father and then move on. No one knows he’s here. His mother and brother are blissfully unaware of the danger his father roped him into. With a parting gift of a journal, delivered to him the same day he received word about his father, Dean has become the target of a group of people who want him dead. The same people who killed his father.

Racing against the clock, can Dean and Castiel figure out what is so important about John Winchester’s journal that someone would kill for it?

Masquerade by noxsoulmate

It had begun as such a good plan; one that benefitted them both. And masquerading as Castiel Krushnic's boyfriend during the weeks of balls, galas, and charity events certainly was no hardship. With the impending end of their arrangement, though, Dean Winchester must admit that behind the mask of an aloof CEO lies a man he could fall in love with. Or maybe, he already has…

The Medium by raths_kitten

Detective Dean Winchester hates it when his Chief sends a medium to consult on his cases. But this time, the murder is closely linked to Castiel’s world and they both need to work together to solve it.

Any Semblance of Touch (fic by saltnhalo, art by c-kaeru)

1925, New York.

Dean Winchester’s life’s work is protecting the world from the supernatural relics that could destroy it. When an amulet with the power to control the tides is shipped to New York, he must intercept it before it can be used to devastating effects. This time, in order to succeed, he needs a powerful psychometric… and the only one available has sworn off the magical world altogether.

Castiel Novak’s gift comes with great risk. To protect himself, he’s become a recluse, redirecting his magic into museum research. But with the city’s fate hanging in the balance, and faced with the power of Dean’s charm and persuasion…

He can’t force himself to say no.

The Love of a Righteous Man by SargentMom573

Five years ago, Captain Dean Winchester defied his father, Senator John Winchester. With his brother Sam, and his spaceship Impala, Dean found his place among a ragtag fleet of pirates and smugglers. Their latest mission left him with a price on his head and a scar on his heart. When a surprise attack separated him from Sam and revealed a Sith weapon, he would do whatever it took to bring his brother back – even sacrifice his own happiness.

After Emperor Michael’s death broke the psychic link between them, Emperor’s Hand Castiel Novak spent years drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a barrel. Mostly sober, three years ago he found a new purpose as the Impala’s Chief Medical Officer, and Sam Winchester’s guide in the Force. And a good friend in the Impala’s gruff but kind Captain.

Dean and Castiel must work together to bring Sam home alive. But when Castiel’s last mission is exposed, will Castiel complete it and destroy any hopes Dean had for a family? Will Dean forgive Cas’ horrific purpose before it is too late? And give them both what they really want — the love of a righteous man.

SKID by spnsmile

Dean Winchester swore off love after getting dumped and fired from his job the same day. Badly drunk, he ended up balcony-hopping until a pair of hands snatched him inside a darkened room. But it's no hero, it's someone with deep voice whispering threats with a gun pointed at his back. Dean’s too drunk to deal with life but one good look at his hot assailant plus enough beer sold him to his accursed fate. The next morning, he found himself engaged to the most notorious leader of a powerful clan, Castiel Novak.

Married life in the compound for a month was not as blissful so when he could, Dean fought for that freedom. Castiel relented and as Dean tried to put the pieces of his normal life together, getting a bike messenger job and dealing with pain in the ass clients, he now also needs to deal with the dangerous presence of his very jealous and very protective husband watching over him.

Is his life ever going to get back to normal?

#2020 masterpost #destielharlequinchallenge #destiel harlequin challenge #destiel fanart #destiel fanfic #destiel

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wheres-sam · 4 years ago

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I binge-watched the spn anime because of the brain rot

It’s bad except for the parts that are good, and it’s pretty to look at. Here’s a comprehensive list of pros and cons. Spoilers ahead!

Pros:

- more psychic kid backstories: Max (Nightmare), Lily (Darkness Calling), Jake (Loser)

- more psychic Sam

- more Azazel

- basically if you want more about the psychic/demon kids, watch the anime

- more young Winchesters

- the monsters, the superhuman abilities, the fight scenes, it all looks really cool animated. (But PSA it’s violent. It doesn’t shy away from blood and gore.)

- Sam and Jessica backstory

- more of the brothers being cute and funny together

- Missouri isn’t forgotten

- includes some Japanese legends/mythology

- the impala looks great in every scene. They did Baby good

- the “Supernatural” intro title

- the outro sketches of the boys hanging out with Baby

- Episodes adapted from the original show are different, but I like some of the changes? It’d be boring if it was an exact retelling and the visual medium wasn’t utilized. (I know I said spoilers before, but this is when they get detailed. If you wanna skip over, I’ll tell you where they STOP.)

Nightmare goes more into the abuse Max has suffered. Instead of locking Sam in a closet, Max sends Sam through the floor and covers the hole by breaking his bed in half, and it’s extremely sexy how Sam shoves the 2 halves apart with his mind. Later on Dean puts bandaids on Sam and they talk about demons loudly in front of a fast food intercom.

In My Time of Dying highlights the guilt Sam feels over Dean. In both the og and the anime John verbally blames Sam for not shooting Azazel, but where in the og Sam goes right on arguing, in the anime he reels back for a moment like he was slapped. Dean’s spirit touches Sam’s shoulder, and Sam knows immediately that it’s Dean. He doesn’t even question it. Instead of “Are you here?” it’s “I know you’re with me. I can feel it.” And I love that. Dean figures out right away he’s dealing with a reaper, and the reaper takes on the appearance of Mary to convince Dean to move on to the afterlife. Instead of a Ouija board, Sam uses a laptop to talk to Dean, and the first word Dean types is “Sammy!” Dean is so fond of his little brother and Sam is so baby.

Rising Son is an anime only episode, but it draws inspiration from John’s journal. Dean has a proper breakdown over his dad’s death and the possibility of having to kill Sam. Ms. Lyle, Sam’s favorite teacher who turns out to be possessed, is explored. John takes Dean hunting, and in the journal Dean hesitates to shoot a buck, and little Sam shoots it thinking it was endangering Dean. In the anime, Dean’s cornered by a moose and Sam makes it explode with his mind and it’s so !!! How little Sam’s first words are, “I’m glad you’re okay. It didn’t hurt you?” The boys are covered in blood and guts and Dean’s like 👁👄👁 “Why are you here? Did you do this?” And then Sam starts freaking out a little, the shock sets in. “I don’t know. I don’t know, honest.” And he’s staring at his hands, and I am a big fan of Sam showing superhuman signs as a kid. Like in the journal, Ms. Lyle tries to take Sam. She gives Sam the illusion of a choice to come with her or stay with Dean, and Sam chooses Dean. This ep is pretty much when John figures out Sam has demon blood. He kills another hunter that wants to kill Sam.

Crossroad is based on Crossroad Blues, and I love how the crossroads demon shows up. It’s hard to describe, but it’s so neat, like she’s walking underneath Dean in this mirror world, and then the mirror world takes over the regular world, so you really get this sense of otherworldly seclusion, existing outside of time.

What Is and Should Never Be shows Dean is a firefighter in his ‘Mary never died’ world, and Sam got to play soccer growing up like he wanted. The brothers hold each other after Dean is saved from the Djinn.

AHBL part 1. When Azazel shows Sam that he fed Sam his blood, Sam gags and slaps a hand over his mouth, and I like that reaction more than the live action. The psychic kids get to go more anime with their powers, and that’s a lot of fun. They don’t need weapons. Ava slams Sam into the brick side of a building and cuts him without touching him. Jake snaps Ava’s neck with one hand and then catches Sam in his arms. When Jake attacks Sam, there’s no gun or knife. He’s relying on his super strength, his fists. Sam throws his arms up to protect himself, and (accidentally?) pushes Jake back with his mind, and the collision creates a crater in the ground. Jake puts his fist through Sam’s chest to kill him. It’s brutal and it’s rad as fuck. These kids are terrifyingly powerful.

The Sam and Dean reunion before Sam is killed is not as emotional as the live action imo, but what the anime does intrigues me. Hurts in a different way. Because Sam is stunned after he uses telekinesis again, on Jake, and when he hears Dean behind him Sam freezes. He doesn’t look relieved to see Dean, but wary and weary. It’s Dean taking steps towards him, not the other way around, and it has to be because Sam doesn’t know if Dean saw him push Jake back. Sam doesn’t know how Dean’s going to respond to all this, to him, having powers that come from a demon, the demon, Azazel. Sam hasn’t had a chance to process anything. He’s scared. He’s tired. And the way the anime focuses on Sam’s eyes here. Gah. “Dean. Dean, I’m...” I’m sorry. I’m all right. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m a monster. There’s also this one shot between Sam and Azazel that sends me because of how anime it is.

AHBL part 2. I love how Sam brought back to life is animated, with all the color returning to his face and a light wind rustling his hair and his lips parting to indicate his soul returning to his body. Jake attacks Dean, and, a lot like how Sam activates telekinesis to save Dean from Max in Nightmare, Sam gets a burst of superhuman strength. He rips Jake’s arm off and tackles him to the ground and beats him to death, punches holes into his body, and it’s so savage and bloody and scary, and I love it. The Devil’s Gate opening looks so cool animated. Same goes for Dean shooting Azazel with the Colt.

Not to turn this into a meta post, but I also noticed how the last couple times Sam uses his powers they’re colored green-yellow, the same colors as Mary’s ghost when she reveals herself in the anime’s Home, and I don’t know if that’s intentional, but it’s neat how it draws a connection to Sam’s biological family instead of Azazel’s blood.

The Spirit of Vegas is like Bad Day at Black Rock, but Dean has all the bad luck instead, and it shows off the silly cartoony physics that make animation fun. The boys sleep outside and split a chunk of bread for dinner. Also this lil bit of Dean’s hair tied in a bow.

- (STOP) the brothers are pretty. I am not immune to animated Sam and Dean Winchester.

Cons:

- Jensen doesn’t voice Dean until the last 2 episodes

- The English dialogue is really bad sometimes. I wish I could’ve watched the sub, but I couldn’t figure out how to change the language

- Some character designs are really different from the live action, and maybe that’s petty, but if you’re gonna change the characters diversify them? Don’t just make them unrecognizable white people

- Missouri’s design as a stereotypical witch doctor is racist

- Gordon is replaced by some British guy named Jason?? Why

- There’s an LGBT character who is not accepted by her family and, while that bigotry is always shown to be negative and she dies the hero of the episode, she still dies ://

- In the English dub Lily’s gf is made into her roommate instead. Idk about the sub

- Bobby’s pretty much a totally different character

- Sam and Dean are OOC sometimes

- Dean’s hair usually looks darker than Sam’s and it drives me crazy

- The storytelling is, overall, not nearly as good as the live action

- The non-Japanese lore in some episodes makes no sense. Sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous?? Like there’s a giant robot made of cars and scrap metal controlled by a demon? ? I wish I was making this up

- Meg’s role is severely reduced

- No Harvelles or Roadhouse

- Shadows are overused, but maybe that’s because the og show is so dark?

- I don’t mind the art style. I like the aesthetic, but I wish it was a little more expressive. It doesn’t do Sam’s puppy eyes justice.

- AZAZEL’S SHADOW?? PROPORTIONS?? PEA SIZED HEAD

- Idk why they mashed season 1 and 2 together? The story feels rushed

- there’s not as much chemistry between Sam and Dean, but that’s a given without J2 on screen

- Nobody tells you!! That there’s scenes after the credits!! And some of them are important! Why are important scenes after the credits??

The anime would not be good on its own, without the heart and depth the live action brings, but it works as supplementary material you can cherry pick from. I would watch more if there were more episodes.

It hasn’t turned me off from wanting an spn anime. I’d like to see it continued or redone, with updated animation and better scripts. There’s a lot of potential in exploring more about the psychic kids and Sam’s powers, storylines that were cut short in the og show. Animation is a great medium for showing off the supernatural, getting creative and creepier with the designs, dramatic with the fight scenes, without having to worry about bad CGI. I don’t want a live action reboot, but I think a redone animated series could be a lot of fun! (As long as it’s not an excuse to make any romantic ships take over. SPN is a platonic love story, and I like it that way.)

If you made it to the end here and are interested in watching the spn anime, you can watch it for free on the CW Seed app! You can probably stream it elsewhere, but idk where!

#spn anime #supernatural #supernatural the anime #my detailed pros is pretty much me letting you know what episodes are worth watching #and why #its bad but I kind of like it #I like what they were going for. the potential it has #I like sam and there's lots of sam

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justafewsmallsteps · 4 years ago

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Late for Halloween, but hey, it’s Inuvember. So here’s my annual contribution to my Witch AU, Now You’re Mine. Read part 1, part 2, and part 3 to understand (or you can just like the art?) This time we have exposition and angst. I appreciate any responses in the tags or comments.🥺Or any questions about this AU! Maybe I’ll even want to write more...

Now You’re Mine Pt. 4 Words: 2208 Rating: T for violence mention and blood

It was a long, slow night for them. After Kikyou disappeared, Kagome barely uttered out his name and traced his cheekbone before falling unconscious once again. Though she stopped bleeding so profusely, he still thought it was best to get her away from the ritual sight. The full moon had his blood running hot in his veins, but the immediate danger was gone. He was on high alert that night, listening for her heartbeat and feeling her pulse to stay calm and keep his transformation at bay. It was a miracle he hadn’t turned with the events that happened, but he was on edge the whole time, red flickering in and out of his vision. His heightened senses also had him feeling extra paranoid.

By the time the sun rose and his mind felt clearer, he resolved to get them back to Kaede’s place. Inuyasha treated Kagome gingerly as they slowly made their way back. She was in and out of consciousness and her waking varied from groggy calls out to him and sudden gasps. He kept reassuring her that he was there, that she was okay now, and that he’d get them back safely.

It was annoying to walk, and that was exacerbated by the ball weight dragging his leg. He still didn’t get why it’d suddenly become so heavy overnight, but he figured it was because Kagome was in such a bad state. He doubted she would have had the strength to fly them back even if she had her broom.

When they finally walked through the entrance, it was already past nightfall. Kaede saw Kagome’s pale face and limp body and flew into action. She brewed up a strong potion to get her feeling better. It was a deep green color, full of dried ingredients to make it extra potent as they rehydrated. Normally the smell of it would send Inuyasha right out of there and far away, but he found himself uneasy being too distant. For a while he fidgeted and did his best to bear it, but eventually it proved too much for his still sensitive nose to handle. He stood outside where the scent wasn’t so concentrated, but paced under the starlight to keep guard. He doesn’t sleep. He can’t. His mind swirled along with the dried up leaves being swept up by wind.

In the early morning, Kaede joins him in the front.

“Kagome slept through the night and she’s still asleep. The medicinal potion causes drowsiness. The human body works best when it rests. She’ll probably be waking soon, but she’ll have to take it easy for some time. She was drained of a lot of blood.”

Inuyasha gives a shrug to acknowledge her. He’s not sure what to say, but he feels a little relieved. He didn’t get a wink of sleep the past few days and it was starting to take a toll on him.

“Dark witches are tricky and aren’t afraid to use any spell to serve their purposes, even if they defy the Laws. Kagome’s been through a serious blood ritual, that much was clear, but she hasn’t been able to recall a lot of what happened, so you’ll have to give me more details, Inuyasha.”

He’s quiet. What happened? A lot more than he was ready for. Between the capture, Kikyou’s resurrection, and Kagome’s near death, he’s having a hard time processing it all. Let alone how it’d been the night of the full moon, so he’d been in a near-transformation haze. Kikyou’s ghost haunted him, and Kaede had reacted so strongly when news of her came up before. Of course she had, they were of the same clan. He now knows for sure that Kikyou didn’t just disappear the night she sealed him. She died before she ever got a chance to kill him. Now she was out there somewhere.

Her words echo in his skull. “Inuyasha, I will be back for you. I refuse to die until I end you. Remember that your life is mine.”

Sensing his hesitation, Kaede adds, “The more I know about the events that transpired, the better I can treat Kagome.”

He shuffles and sighs. “Kagome was captured by some crazy old bat called Urasue. That’s the one who ambushed her at the well. When I found her she was already bleeding out on the ground. The blood ritual was… to bring back another witch.”

“A Soul Trade,” Kaede confirms. “It’s a particularly complex spell, and one that requires many key factors. A dark spell that’s difficult to control.”

“But why Kagome? The old witch was after her specifically! She went through the trouble of kidnapping her right when she came out of the well.”

Kaede lets out a steady breath and lets it mingle with the cold before answering, “For a seasoned witch, it’s easy for us to sense the power potential in others. If you’re saying this Urasue could be a century old, then she fine tuned that sense long ago. Kagome’s magic is especially strong. Haven’t you wondered why a retired teacher like me would take her in so easily? To help her control it. Kagome’s magical aura makes her stand out. You should know. Even barely trained, she's able to do things most can never hope to master.”

“Like make me into her familiar.”

Kaede gives a solemn nod.

“So she was captured because she’s powerful?”

“Partly. It makes her easy to find.”

“Then why else?”

“Who was she used to resurrect, Inuyasha? I can only believe that she’d be necessary to revive another witch. One who shares her immense magic, and one who shares her blood.”

Inuyasha looks away and clenches his fist in his sleeves. It’s like denial. “Her blood… so Kagome is Kikyou’s blood after all.”

“You’ve always known Inuyasha. You said she could be mistaken for her.”

He doesn’t like the thought. “That’s why she could free me then too, right? Kikyou put the spell on me, and Kagome could undo it because they share a bloodline.” His ears droop slightly, and his eyes seem to glaze over a little in thought.

Kaede studies him, her good eye fixes on the chain at his ankle. He’d been dragging it when he entered and exited earlier, the weight leaving heavier trails than before. “Perhaps, but ‘undo’ isn’t the right word. Replace.”

Inuyasha scoffs, but his demeanor turns serious. “When I dragged Kagome out of the spell circle it started to reverse the ritual. Kikyou started bleeding out instead, but then she escaped using Urasue’s broom. I don’t know where she went, but Kikyou’s out there somewhere. It’s why Kagome feels this bad still, I’m sure of it. ”

“So Kikyou is stuck in the middle now.”

“In the middle?”

“An undead. It’s a rare phenomenon, especially for a good witch. There are those who specialize in animating the dead—like puppeteers toying with creatures, but to resurrect life requires a much stronger power. Imagine the strength it takes for a witch to resist a ritual so insidious.” She pauses, “Or the strength it takes to survive it.”

“Is Kagome going to be alright?” His tail swishes anxiously behind him.

“I told you she’s stronger than most.”

“But… what about Kikyou? Does she need Kagome to live? Is she going to come after her to complete the ritual?”

“Kikyou is also stronger than most, maybe the strongest to have lived. She was The Keeper of the Grimoire for a long time. She must have absorbed some of its powers when she locked it away. It’s possible she will turn to it now. For better or worse, I believe she’ll find a way to survive like this.”

“That’s what the hag was after. The Grimoire, just like before.”

Kaede wonders to herself what he means by “before,” but chooses to hold her tongue about it. Whatever secrets Inuyasha has about his past are his own.

“It’s a legend to most witches. A beacon for those who seek power. It holds dark, ancient secrets. Powerful spells that bend Laws instead of breaking them. Kikyou was rumored as the last witch to know its location and be able to access it, so it makes sense that Urasue would attempt to use her to find it, but foolish to think she could control her.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with frustration, the image of Urasue’s head being sliced clean off flashes through his mind. He swallows. “She’s… definitely something.”

“I have a feeling Kagome has the same potential to reach similar heights.”

“But she wouldn’t hurt a fly!” His ears droop. “She’ll have to learn how to protect herself though…” They can’t afford for this to happen again.

It’s that kind of concern he takes for his witch that warms Kaede’s heart and makes her believe that their relationship is more than it seems. Much as Inuyasha complains, there’s a genuine softness with which he treats her. “If you stay by Kagome’s side I’m sure she’ll be well guarded as I continue on her training. You being near her will give her strength, you share it with one another. That’s part of the familiar bond.”

It’s a clear invitation for him to go inside and see her, but he doesn’t know what to do. Part of him wants to check in on her, but another part feels weird about it. He can’t shake the feeling that he has to stay alert. As if on cue, he hears a small muffle from inside the room and his ears stand on alert. He stands up immediately on instinct, his chain making a light noise at the movement.

Kaede looks up and motions to stop him before he can push aside the screen. “I should warn you about the repercussions of stopping the ritual, Inuyasha.” Her tone is hushed.

He raises his brow.

“A Soul Trade links the sacrifice and the resurrected for a short time. It’s like a transfer between the two. It’s possible that because of the ritual, Kagome and Kikyou shared certain things. Emotions. Knowledge.”

His eyes go wide for a second and he holds his breath.

“Memories.”

Inuyasha presses his lips together and stands there for a moment, mind suddenly filling with new thoughts. What had Kagome learned from Kikyou? Did she hate him now too? There was no way, but then again, she’d basically been passed out the whole time. What could she have seen? He suddenly feels like running away, but he’s frozen.

Then the muffled sound repeats, and he hears his name. Everything in his mind shouts at him, Go to her! The familiar bond is pulsing through his head. Ultimately it’s her though, fragile and searching that moves him into action.

He lets his lungs empty and sucks in another breath, the cold sting of it filling his chest and reminding him of the night she freed him. When he felt his heartbeat for the first time in decades. He pushes the door aside and enters quickly, careful not to let too much chill inside.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome calls as soon as he’s in the room.

The scent of her blood has faded, but it’s still there staining her clothes, and it bothers Inuyasha a lot. Still, he wants to know she’s okay.

“I’m here, Kagome,” he assures her as he did their walk home. “Are you alright?”

She smiles and weakly nods at him, and knots in his stomach unravel just a little. She had a way of untangling him from dark places. “Stay by me?” she requests, holding a shaky hand towards him. He flashbacks to her limp hand stuck in the pentagram, to her reaching out to protect him. Of course she didn’t hate him.

The relief swells in his chest, but he doesn’t want it to make a big deal out of nothing. Instead of saying anything, he huffs out a breath to sound bothered and sits by her, the ball annoyingly dragging against the ground on his way. Instead of taking her hand, he checks it for her pulse.

“You need something?”

Kagome blinks, her eyebrows knitting in what Inuyasha can assume is either dizziness or pain. She makes a move to study him, trying to focus on his face. She swore he looked different last night. Red eyes and jagged marks on his cheeks. She reaches out to touch him, but he pulls away and stands up.

He’s relieved she’s alright, but suddenly afraid of her questions. “You’ve been out all night since Kaede gave you that potion. I’ll get you water. You just rest up.” Kaede’s warning is stuck in his mind like tar. There are things Kagome could know now, and he doesn’t want to deal with it.

Behind him the ball drags on the floor, catching Kagome’s attention again. Visions from the other night flicker in her mind, but they’re vague and fleeting. Some of them seem familiar, and other thoughts feel like she’s someone else. Her head aches to think about them, but her heart reacts with a different kind of pain. She frowns and watches him leave, tucking her hand back to her chest. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with longing, feeling small and pathetic as he walks away.

Why couldn’t he just stay by her side?

#inuyasha #inukag #kagome higurashi #inuvember #inuvember 2020 #jelly art #witch au #justafewsmallsteps #jelly fic #now you’re mine

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trashbaggage · 4 years ago

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okay okay okay

the movie “enchanted”, but witcher-fied (sorry this got away from me a bit)

there’s a stereotypical medieval fantasyland where jaskier julian alfred pankratz is the prince of lettenhovia. he’s got the looks, voice, and affinity for attracting woodland animals of a disney princess. also, the tragic backstory: his parents died in a freak accident when he was young. but don’t worry, his creepy “uncle” stregobor took upon himself the burden of ruling in their stead, until julian grew up and became ready for the throne.

(basically, stregobitch is like rasputin, and had tricked and slimed his way into the crown’s good graces before, surprise surprise, killing off the king and queen. he left julian alive to take some of the heat off of him with that extra distraction of grieving child. alas, poor little princeling that he can play the benevolent guardian to.)

and things are gr8 for good ol streggy, julian seems more inclined to sing and wander than become bogged down with the responsibility of becoming king. everything’s comin up stregs.

and then, of course, there’s a prophecy about how julian will be his doom or whatev and he needs to get on that shit STAT like he’s never heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy before (to be fair, fantasyland doesn’t have ancient greek tragedies to learn from so rip stregosaurus). but before he can implement his sophisticated plan of julian dying in an “accident”, our dear jules wanders too far and falls down a magic well into the Real World.

and he’s like, sweet, look at all this stuff! this is great and - oh hello, very attractive man with silken white hair and eyes as golden as the dawn light falling gently upon newly blossomed lillies and thighs that can crush his head and his heart, what up. and geralt is very confused and frustrated and oddly and begrudgingly charmed by this loudly dressed and loudly singing idiot accosting him outta nowhere, but his daughter ciri seems to like him so i guess we can keep him for a night but if he pees on the rug he’s out.

cue fun family bonding, musical numbers, shenanigans, all that jazz; julian, now jaskier cuz new world new him babey,, exploring and learning and having the time of his life and trying to get this broody man to open up and show that kindness his scowl can’t quite hide.

aaaaand cut back to streginald throwing a fit that the prince has cleverly evaded his dastardly plans, he has underestimated him it seems, and he can’t just let this massive loose thread keep flappin in the breeze, so he sends yennefer to deal with him.

now, yennefer is streggo my eggo’s daughter in this, and he’s raised her to be his right hand woman, his evil apprentice, the (much smarter) kronk to his yzma, and she’s been promised power once her dad fully claims the throne, so ofc she gets right on tracking that crafty twunk down to kill him. in the process, she comes across roach, julian’s horse and bff talking animal companion, by the magic well, gathering up the fucks to go after her wayward idiot. a struggle ensues, and yen and roach both go through the portal.

so now we got the side plot of these two trying to find jaskier, yen to kill him and roach to huff reproachfully at him for getting into this mess and if anyone is gonna kill him she will for dragging her across realms (she does not like portals, okay, they feel weird) not some uppity witch. so they got their tomfoolery of yen almost killing an unaware jaskier but then roach foiling her plans. she also tries to kidnap ciri as bait for a trap, but she can’t hurt this kid she’s too precious, ow ow ow, why does her chest feel weird?? she’s actually starting to find the boundaries to her thirst for power and it kinda sucks and feels nice at the same time??? 0/10 do not recommend

during this, geralt’s quiet life is being upended by this weird dude and he’s never danced so much in his life and his child is conspiring against him to set him up with this clearly deranged but very nice and pretty man but he’s not staying ciri we have to get him back to .....wherever tf he came from i don’t even like him, what are you talking about,,,

it all comes to a head at the costume ball, where geralt and jaskier are dancing and making eyes at each other until roach bursts in and tries to charades her way into warning her idiot to run motherfucker but she can’t talk in this realm so ugh and geralt horsegirl rivia is just like omg ur best friend is a horse that’s so fucking cool i love you even more.

and then yen bursts in; she’s kinda struggling to fulfill her mission, cuz she’s been watching jaskier and geralt and they just seem like two idiots that couldn’t possibly threaten anything, let alone her father’s power grab. she’s also made frenemies with roach, she’s the only motherfucker who can handle her in this city. so she just tries to scare jaskier into never returning, which works pretty well because she is v v scary, and then stregobonkers comes strolling in like wtf why is this taking you so long just kill him!! and yen is like i’ve kind of grown this pesky con- 🤢 consci- 🤢, wait, just, give me a min,,,, conscience!! yeah, that’s the bitch! anyway, stop telling me what to do dad and stregobego drops a bomb and goes i always knew you had a weakness to you, just like your parents!

and it’s just,,

silent.

what? what do you - my parents?

and it turns out he saw the power she held and wanted it under his control, so he killed her parents (it’s like, his signature move at this point) and groomed her to be his obedient little weapon. and, understandably, yen is pissed off and hurt and goes to lash out at him, but he just smirks and clicks his fingers while muttering under his breath, and everything stops for yen a second time as her mind blanks.

sneaky streg had put in a fail safe, in case she ever got out of line, and the amulet he gave her “for protection and focus, you must never take it off” lights up and puts her under his command and she turns into a sickass dragon that starts tearing up the dance floor, literally, in her rampage to kill jaskier.

geralt and jaskier go oh shit and dodge for their lives and things are looking pretty dire, but then jaskier looks at the suits of armor set up for decoration and goes wait a minute and grabs a sword to toss at geralt and just goes cover me boo and aim for that amulet and if you miss we’ll probably all die so no pressure!! and just sprints out and distracts angry dragon!yen and geralt goes goddamnit jaskier and sneaks around until he can jump at her and do a completely improbable matrix leap to stab at the amulet, and because this is a romcom and i get to choose my coping mechanisms, he makes it and yen is free from streg egghead’s power and she turns to him, still a dragon, and smiles wide with all them sharp sharp teeth and he goes ohhhh shiiiit and tries to run, but jaskier very helpfully trips him up and goes eat up my lady and dragon yen does, with great relish.

in conclusion, everyone lives happily ever after except streggles. geralt gets over his baggage and professes his love for jaskier, jaskier goes i’m not that easy geralt there needs to be wooing! i deserve to be wooed!! before heavily making out with him in the next five seconds. jaskier gives yen his blessing to become queen of lettenhovia, because he never really wanted the job anyway and she deserves it after what she’s been through. she still comes back every sunday for brunch and to teach ciri how to fight (she’s mine now, i’ve adopted her so she needs to learn the fine art of pointy things geralt) and geralt, jaskier, and ciri take holidays to fantasyland and roach is free to roam wherever she wants and becomes an advisor to yen.

the end

(extra dramatic addendum: geralt finally brings jask home to meet his family; vesemir opens the door and geralt goes this is my boyfriend, jas- but vesemir cuts him off with a choked out pRiNcE JuLiAn?! and it turns out vesemir is also actually from fantasyland. he worked for julian’s parents; the prevalence of monsters had been steadily rising, and so they had the idea to create witchers to combat them. kaer morhen was created under their sanction and vesemir was a teacher there, but he became disenfranchised with every boy that didn’t make it through the trials. when the keep was attacked by fanatics against witchers, he smuggled out eskel, lambert, coen, and geralt, and hid them away. he looked at these traumatized kids and went well that won’t do, followed up on some rumors of a new world, had a mage friend alter the boys’ memories, and skedaddled for our world. very shocking reveal, angsty angst-ness as geralt and the others deal with repressed memories and the fact that jaskier’s parents were responsible for it all, y’know, all that good stuff)

#the witcher #i come to you with another weird witcher au #geralt #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer #ciri #roach #cw: stregobor #jaskier would make a fantastic giselle don’t front #i would write a proper fic of this but it is late and i am tired #so here #some ramblings #witcher ficlet #geraskier

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realm-sweet-realm · 4 years ago

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Angel of the Ink Machine, Chapter 1: An Unlikely Encounter.

Alright, this was a long time coming. And by a long time, I mean I have literally had it in mind since Fall. As a result, I’m going to ignore new information from TIOL so that I can do it as I originally planned.

The premise of this AU is simple: Sammy leaves the studio instead of Henry, and as a result, Joey needs a new partner in crime. He finds one in Allison. Power struggles, sacrifices, passion, ecstasy and tragedy ensues.

---

Sammy never even bothered to formally quit the studio, and it fell on Henry to explain to Joey what had probably transpired.

“He told me a few days ago that he wanted to get Mr. Arch’s attention and maybe a job from him. Sorry to say, Joey, but I think he got what he wanted.”

Joey’s face twisted with disbelief and anger and then back to serenity. “No, Sammy loved it here! I’m sure he’ll be back soon- he’s probably just sick. And even if he isn’t, well, we don’t need him anyhow, do we, Henry? So long as we have each other.”

“Hm? Yeah.” Henry didn’t tell Joey that Nathan had made him an offer as well, and that he was beginning to regret not taking it.

After a few days, Joey accepted that Sammy was gone and promoted Jack to the head of the music department. It was better that way, anyhow- Jack wasn’t so demanding, and let Joey have more run of the music room when he wanted it.

For the next decade, things went along as usual. The studio grew, Henry remained Joey’s finest and most hardworking artist, and Joey even began to look into some dark magic that could help him make his vision for the studio a reality. Joey was, however, beginning to feel increasingly alone in his vision. Henry had grown bitter and distant to him over the years, and then quit. It was disappointing, but not a surprise. It left Joey feeling rather empty in the realization of how little he’d lost. The loyal, invaluable partner he’d once had had turned into just another artist years ago.

Joey needed another person who truly understood his vision. Sadly, he didn’t know anyone that could have fit the bill.

And then he found her.

The place he’d found her had been a speakeasy during the prohibition- a hub of all sorts of illegal affairs. Joey had come here for booze and the occasional round of cocaine during the prohibition and had discovered magic that way. Now, the prohibition was over, but criminals still came to peddle their wares, and Joey, a frequent user of magic now, still came to supply himself with books and reagents that couldn’t be found anywhere else. It was a sleazy place- dirty, greasy, full of prostitutes and men who looked like they could rob you. So it didn’t surprise Joey when a woman- mid-twenties, curvaceous, and on the tall side- approached him while he was buying potions. He figured it was just a prostitute trying to find a customer.

“I need three of the generic restorative ones.. And a vial of clean animal blood, and a liter of chloroform, please.”

The woman next to him chuckled. “You know that restorative potions are horrendously marked up, right? And you could get the animal blood... from an animal.”

Looking at the woman for the first time, Joey realized two things. First, the nearly knee-length pink dress and grey leather jacket she was wearing looked far too new and expensive and a bit too modest to be a prostitute’s, and she looked awfully healthy and clean for one. Secondly, he recognized her from somewhere. Still, he wouldn’t let the woman embarrass him. “Well, yes. But I haven’t practiced making my own yet, and I don’t want to test the first few on myself! And I just so happen to have plenty of money for them.”

The woman finally made eye contact with him. Light grey eyes, Joey noted. “Really? So, you been into magic long, Mr…”

“Drew. Joey Drew. And not too long. My specialty is in the demonic, but I’m experimenting with a bit of everything. Trying to figure out what will work with my vision. Yourself? Actually, why don’t we have this conversation somewhere more pleasant.” Joey paid the man for the potions, and the two walked out of the dark alleyway and into the city lights.

“My specialty is potions. I brew my own. I also really like charms.”

Joey’s eyes went wide. “Charms? You criticize me for buying potions, and you buy charms? There’s no way of even knowing if they work!”

“Well, unlike you, I’m not working towards any grand vision. I think charms work. I think they make my life better. And that’s good enough for me. Honestly, some magic users forget that magic is meant to enhance life, not fill some kind of void in it. Heck, I could say the same of some artists.”

“Funny you should mention art. I’m an artist. And my life’s goal is to reflect life in art. It seems we have a similar view on life, don’t we? It’s just that I want to be the one to show it to other people. Say- would you like to see a bit of my vision tonight?”

“Sure!” Allison said with a smile.

Joey took her to his car and held the door open for her.

“Oh. A gentleman. And a rich one, it looks like!”

“Yes. I own one of the greatest animation studios in the world: Joey Drew Studios.”

Allison giggled. “I’m no cartoon expert, but if it’s one of the greatest in the world, then why haven’t I heard of it?”

“Well, it might not be the very best yet, but it will be! Especially once the project I’m about to show you takes off.”

“Great!” Joey could see the excitement in her eyes, and he loved it.

“And what do you do, Ms. Pendle? I feel like we’ve met.”

Allison’s face darkened a little. “Well... I used to be a Broadway performer. I quit. You see, I have an ugly history with cocaine, and some of my coworkers were getting me back into it. I knew I couldn’t stay without it ruining my health... so I didn’t. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, though.”

Joey could remember her now- a backup dancer in one of the plays he’d seen. He committed everything she’d said to memory, knowing it could be useful later on.

Before long, they were at the studio, and Joey showed her to the pedestal room.

“Wow. You got your entire staff to participate in your rituals? That’s amazing.”

“Just a few of them, actually. But yeah, a little power goes a long way when you’re dealing with magic. And this isn’t even half of it. Come. I assume you aren’t a vegetarian witch?”

“Well, I’ve never slaughtered an animal for magic, but I’m up for it so long as it’s not too often. It’s no different than meat, really.”

“Fair enough,” Joey said. Maybe it was stupid to trust this woman that he’d met this same night, but he got a good feeling about her. He just had to share everything with her. The elevator wasn’t romantic enough, so he took her to the ink machine, suspended with chains, and watched the amazement on her face as it lowered until its top was at floor level. Joey stepped onto the machine and pulled Allison along with him. He held her waist as the machine lowered until it hit the floor of the very basement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before climbing down the machine and running to turn on the lights.

Allison’s heart was beating a million miles a minute looking at all the pentagrams on the floor, the supplies on the shelves, and the strange machinery. A small part of her was glad she’d packed a knife in her jacket pocket, especially given the human-sized iron cages. Mostly, though, she felt like she’d died and gone to magic-user heaven. Joey had thought she wouldn’t be scared off by this, and was more than happy to be proven correct.

“This is amazing!” Allison beamed. “What do you use it for?”

“Well… nothing good, yet. I’m trying to create life, but there’s only been failed attempts. Let you show you my best one.” Joey led her to a supply closet that only he had the keys for. The door opened to reveal a metal cage and little else. When Joey clicked on the lights, a mound of black sludge, maybe a foot and a half tall, made itself visible. A cartoonish mouth floated down about where an ear should be, and two black mounds that vaguely looked like pie-cut eyes rested at its base. “I don’t know what to do to improve results,” Joey admitted. “Ultimately, I want to bring my cartoons into the real world. But can you imagine me presenting this old thing on a stage?” Joey laughed. “Wouldn’t exactly have them cheering, now would it?”

“Hmm... well, it’s a long shot, but a while ago while I was traveling, I stayed with a witch for a while and learned the recipe for a special potion. I kind of... stole the recipe from her, so I don’t know all about how it works, but it’s had all kinds of effects on the substances I’ve used it in in the past. I once burned all my hair off by mixing it with shampoo! So, you wanna to see what happens when you mix it with ink?

“Why not?” Joey said. He was sure to hear an earfull from Thomas the next day about some mechanical nonsense, but at that moment, Joey didn’t care.

“Alright,” Allison said, digging out a small vial of clear liquid from her bag. “Where do I put this?”

Joey directed her to the insertion nozzle. Allison put in the substance. Joey gathered some film of Bendy and added it in as well. And then, Joey started up the machine. What came out was an abomination- a strange, humanoid creature made of ink, its spine and joints jutting out at sharp angles from its body. It had Bendy’s horns, his smile, and one of its gloves, but the similarities ended there. It looked around at its surroundings before beginning to wander off.

Allison yelped. “What do we do? I’m sorry!”

“Don’t be,” Joey said in an extremely calm voice. “Just be calm. Find an iron cage big enough and open it for me.”

Allison did as she was told, and Joey calmly approached the beast as it took in its surroundings. “Hey, there, buddy. Come with me. It’s okay.” He offered the beast his hand and led him towards the cage. He and Allison wrestled the creature into the cage and locked it. Joey sighed in relief. “That could have been ugly.”

“Yeah. That was amazing. But I’m sorry for causing it!”

They made eye contact. “Don’t be! That’s the closest I’ve ever come to making a functional toon! I mean, it still needs something... but thank you.” Joey ran his hand over her arm. “Allison. You can sing, right? You sang on Broadway?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been looking for a person who understood me- this side, the artistic side, the lust-for-life side- for years. Would you like to join my studio as a voice actress and help me with this grand project? Help me to do what no magician has done and create sentient life with me?”

“Yes! I’ve been looking for the next adventure since I quit Broadway!”

She hadn’t hesitated. This could only end well.

“Okay. Now, I’ll want you as a partner in crime and voice actress either way, but would you like to go out to dinner on Friday?”

Allison rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, pentagrams and demonic machines were one thing, but dinner? Now you’ve gone too far.” A pause. “I’m joking, Joey. Of course I will.” Dangerous just so happened to be Allison’s type, and she knew she could handle this little adventure if it turned sour.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #Angel of the Ink Machine AU #allison pendle #joey drew #joey x allison

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phoebehalliwell · 4 years ago

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Prue gets together with Mitch (reincarnated Micah) and lives. How does their relationship evolve over the rest of the series?

okay so fr because like i've been thinking about this I've Been Thinking About This. WHY give us that connection if we're not gonna do anything with it??? WHY make it worse my literally giving us the guy THE EXACT SAME GUY and then never mention him again What is the motive?????? okay okay okay so here's what i'd do: 2.6 undercut lmao

because prue has really only had two boyfriends in the series so far: andy & jack (bane doesn't count as he was more of a tryst and also he's in jail :'( could have been fun tho! he could have sacrificed himself for somebody else and become a whitelighter he already knows the ins and outs of the underworld like. could have been something there. but as they were only together twice, once when prue was posing as a hitwoman and then again when he kidnapped her, he, tragically, does not him boyfriend status.) so here me out andy is a cop he represents protection and familial ties / ties to the past (prue's childhood best friend, already friends with the sisters, he's also a third generation cop so like there's that too). he represents prue's early stage, where she feels like she has to be the protector of the whole family, of which she is basically the matriarch. she doesn't get to have fun, she has to protect her sisters and now the whole world, and her past is having some very real effects on her life right now. that's her andy era.

jack era is at buckland's, it's her breadwinning era. we even saw in morality bites (which, i am once again bringing up, is fake) that she goes on to be superbillionaire whatever. so jack kind represents professional ambitions, amplified by the fact that the fonet also served as a blatant metaphor for their relationship (prue, the world is made up of almost perfect. it's nothing but near misses and necessary compromises. in this case, i think we got a little bit of both. that's okay, i know how you feel. i'm just asking you not to look so close. nothing bears up under that kind of scrutiny. are you talking about the monet? yeah, that too.) and that their relationship ends when she decided to leave bucklands to pursue a career in photography.

so now we enter season three, which is prue's artist era, her passionate like zeal for life era she finally seems to have a weight lifted off her shoulder for the first time in a long time like you can tell she like. trusts her sisters more than she ever has before she sees them in a new light and knows that they are strong and smart and independent and she doesn't need to protect them every waking hour. this era's for prue. so i'm pitching that micah mirrors this by being an artist, too. i wouldn't say the same medium (photography) as prue because like. prue's definitely someone who would compare herself to him just like subconsciously constantly that's the type of woman she is, but maybe like a painter. not a writer because they're all insufferable. lmao 🤙🤙. but someone who lives in a hella nice studio type loft filled with art and just like life. passion. something prue hasn't really allowed herself in like. a hot minute. and i would make micah (mitch??) a witch. haha it rhymes. scratch that i'd make him a warlock. or a darklighter i'm cashing in my half-darklighter character. it's mitch now. idk how this would fit into phole narrative foils maybe or we scrap phole but they're really coming from two different perspectives where cole is entering the joint like i am evil and here to murder and then he catches feelings whereas mitch would be like yes i have some dark past but i'm not letting it define me bonus points is prue is able to piece together the clues of his origin just by looking at his paintings. this also adds to the rift between prue and phoebe on prue's cole stance like oh your evil boyfriend is fine but mine, for some reason, is still evil? yes. oh you know what we keep the source's heir in this au let me continue.

instead of introducing mitch in p3 because like WHAT WAS THAT, we instead, parallel their first meeting. mitch's origin story is

his mom was a future whitelighter knocked up by a darklighter this was not intentional on anyone's part mom wasn't trying to become mom dad wasn't trying to become dad Nor did dad know mom was a future whitelighter. because well he's not great at being a darklighter in spite of maybe being like the. head darklighter's son he's like the fucked up son who doesn't wanna run things. he doesn't know he has a kid!! until something something an oracle or something tells him he has a son But he can't find mom because she's cloaked by her whitelighter. mom dies doing something heroic idk (maybe mom was a firefighter??) and then cloaking on mitch is lifted when he's in his late teens his dad finds him his dad is now like proper leader of the darklighter clan and is trying to bring mitch into the fold which initially he is game for because mitch has all these powers black orbing touch of death that he doesn't understand and finally a community to explain that to him! he gets a crossbow (which is lit) but um. quickly catches on to how blatantly evil the whole thing is. he's secretly teamed up with some whitelighters (not his mom tho. friends of his mom, but he's not allowed to see her :'/ ) to help get other halflings like him out and cloaked.

leo's been taken hostage by the darklighter something something something a plot a plot a plot we do some solid pleo angst we maybe have cole drop some thinly veiled advice about the underworld without coming out as a demon, something that will help the sisters later. but what's really important here is they're sneaking through the underworld maybe they've been split up and they need to find leo so either they're looking for him Or they're looking for a darklighter to interrogate. and prue hears shifting behind a rock and goes over to look and it's mitch and some kid and the kid immediately summons his crossbow but mitch knocks it away just like prue did with piper in the past and piper's like prue u see anything and she's like no nothing here and then mitch and the kid blackorb away which just leaves prue with this sinking feeling like what the fuck?? because. what the fuck??? a) that was the same guy from puritan times and b) she still feels the same she felt back then and c) it's clear he does do but d) --and this is the crucial one-- D) he's fucking evil????? so blah blah blah we save leo but now prue is left with one crucial question what the fuck is going on?

so what she's gonna do is research the town the colony whatever that melinda warren was born in she astral projects to salem or whatever and steals. maybe the mask mitch wore at the party she recognizes it from all hallows eve. and she brings that home and scrys with it. and she finds him!! and um bonus points looking at his place she sees he's an alum of the college she went to because backstory!! when prue was in college back when she was still pursuing photography before grams got sick, they had met before! once before, at a party, and it was this instant spark, this instant connection, but then something pulled them apart be it one of them was already in a relationship or their ride was leaving something but like. again! this connection has always been there. so like blah blah blah prue has broken into mitch's place she sees their college connection she sees his art and starts to pull together a life story he sees maybe some paperwork that just says like in bold letters like saving kids: good person activities something real obvious you know and that's Right Next To his crossbow. ~juxtaposition~ so like. what the fuck is this. but whatever that'll be dealt with later she has to get to work! but!! at the magazine her boss is like hey prue some guy came by here earlier asking for you you know [description of mitch], [description of mitch], [description of mitch], you know him? and prue's like ummmmmmmm. no. ?. and her boss is like ?? i don't really care. photography! but now she knows that while she's been digging up on him, he's been doing the same with her. so that night at p3 prue's like okay i've got to come clean with u guys remember micah and phoebe's like oh yeah that hottie from the past who was like . spiritually in love with you? and prue's like yeah i found him. and piper and phoebe are like 🤗🥳😃 and prue's like. and he's a darklighter. and piper and phoebe are like 😳😶👎 and prue's like yeah remember when like we were trying to save leo and you asked me if i saw something? well i did. it was him and and this kid and i think he was trying to save him and phoebe's like wait you think? and prue's like well i mean yeah phoebe like. it was like the same thing when he saved us in the 1700s. and phoebe's like well no because we're good witches and he saved us you saved a darklighter? and prue's like he's more than that phoebe and phoebe's like but how can you know (flash forward to her sparing cole in about three episodes and being like hmm 😐 those words are gonna bite me in the ass).

the point is they're hashing it out phoebe's devil on the left and piper's trying to be angel on the right But he is in the clan that kidnapped her husband so like..... but prue is explaining the good person papers she found on his desk, the fact that she went to college with him, she's like. she thinks he's only half darklighter and he's helping others like him and piper phoebe are like ....................do you just want him to be half darklighter and helping others like him but prue's not even listening but look who's coming down the stairs!! so she beelines over and phoebe's about to follow but piper holds her back bc wait let this play out they'll watch from afar and piper will freeze the room if she has to.

and something something something blah blah blah they tal and there's this tense like. what now. because like. What Now? you're evil and i'm a charmed one but this invisible string pulling me here whether i want it too or not. and i think prue kinda shifts back into her earlier seasons self where. it's family above all else. like i need you to steer clear because if i see you again i will vanquish you. and mitch knows she's bluffing. because he know that if he tried, even if he really wanted to, he couldn't harm a hair on her head. and it's clear she's like. suffering from the same ailment so to speak.

something something something maybe they have a couple quick brushes but not actual meetings And Then we get another time travel/past life episode where!! as it turns out. prue and mitch r soulmates cursed by a spurned lover to always be on opposite sides. meanwhile we just got cole demon reveal/cole's still alive reveal so prue's like hi mitch you're. evil. evil-adjacent. what do you know about belthazor/cole turner. and mitch does his due diligence and like. the stuff on belthazor is appalling. genuinely terrifying. but then there's some stuff on cole turner that's like kinda okay. this is were mitch does is big tragic backstory reveal, kids born of dark magic falling in with the wrong crowd blah blah blah and this kind of. supports our theory moving forward it's not really a theory. our endgame moving forward of healthy!cole. also prue and mitch still have not gotten together through all of this in spite of the cosmic pull and the past evidence of like. soulmatism. because they're both a bit too pragmatic they both think it's kind of a lost cause. blah blah blah pining we give prue a mini love interest here someone to keep her mind off mitch and we do make him good. kind, attentive, caring, smart, hot, but like. it's so painfully obvious she's not all in. so he calls it off. heart to heart with piper because piper's like hi you're in love. and prue's like yeah with a doomed relationship i think i'd rather not and piper's like hello you're talking to the queen of doomed relationships you wanna know the secret? and prue's like yes :( and piper's like just go for it. the time you have together is. it's better than anything else you'll ever have. there's gonna be heartbreak, but hell there's always gonna be heartbreak in the halliwell family. wouldn't you rather spend your time with someone you love?

something something something leo/mitch/cole buddy episode b plot. leo/mitch/cole/DARRYL buddy episode b plot. :D. prue and micah get their big first kiss in a very tv show build up way my heart is saying new years and all the fireworks go off around them.

we're bringing in paige because i love her she's first introduced by some seer oracle whatever as your other sister and the girls are like respectfully, bullshit. but micah's like hey......... she's half whitelighter. because he can sense those kind of things, being a darklighter. and piper and leo are like patty's affair....................... and all the pieces are falling together and in this one. paige either gets a witch love interest a cupid love interest or we keep henry because fwiw i do really like mortal love interests. if we do do the witch love interest it won't be richard i love him to piece i do but he sucks <3. source!cole time.

oh we introduce paige thru mitch trying to help one of his kids and that lands him at social services.

source!cole. idk what happens here but like. using our nifty-difty tool box the squad has been assembling over the years helping all of these wayward souls born from evil, things mostly work out fine. source's heir is born, a girl, but since prue isn't dead her name is either colette or victoria. depends if cole died or not.

prue moved out at some point and lives in a hella nice studio apartment with mitch they r both artists (who the fuck is paying for that?) phoebe moves back in the manor post-source fiasco paige moves in the manor but spends a lot of time with her sister prue and soon to be brother in law (??) mitch. (paige is like fr dude when are you gonna pop the question and mitch is like woahhhh pump the break because paige is new here and when she saw them she's like oh. married couple. but then they're not married. engaged? nope. no just loosely dating? okay. lame. bad idea. but as it turns out one of them always dies so they're just trying to avoid that for as long as possible) but paige spends a lot of time at pritch's place because not only is it The Art Zone it's also the rehabilitating kids zone, of which paige is a grand help. prue jokes about how much paige reminds her of phoebe as a kid, and since we're already muddying the timeline, we're having paige enter and solid advice columnist, married phoebe and paige is like haha what the fuck??

source's heir born twice blessed born magic school located under the charmed & co squad becomes integrated with children born of all magic and like our season 8 wrap up saccharine finale is like how magic has reached a new era of peace n understanding. <3

#its stream of consciousness plot pitch time again!! idk if i love it if i'm sold on it #i might come back with an entirely separate mitch pitch #because there's really nothing there the world is my oyster at this point #but i think this could be a fun one #charmed #prue x micah #💌#margaretsminiessays

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