#pea will take her hatred for him to the grave

[ghouljams]

Feel free to ignore if this has already been answered.

Does Witch have any ‘Siblings’ so to speak? Any other witches that harness some of the other seasons in their own respect? Do they ever interact if so? I’d love to see the Fall version of Witch come to visit our Witch. Nothing hostile but two old friends finally finding time to see each other again. Maybe one of the other witches picking up on Price’s magic/energy in the space. Idk I’m most just curious about Witch

SHE DOES!!!!

Witch has a younger season who left the (fae) city to go and live in a bigger(more human) city. Her name is Cassiopia but she goes by Pea. She's probably my favorite member of Witch's family because she hates Price, she hates him so much. She doesn't have any seasonal associations and works mostly as a mid-wife. She doesn't have Witch's innate talent for magic but she is well trained and still better at it than your average witch.

In terms of other season-bound witches, our Witch is a bit of an anomaly. The patch of summer came about as a necessity, Witch's family needed their garden to be ever-ripe and producing herbs, so I'm not sure what necessities would bring about the other seasons. Maybe there's a witch out there who has a patch of autumn that provides her with mushrooms and orchard plants, maybe there's a spring witch that has a yard full of violets and dandelions...

Idk Witch hasn't met any other witches with ties to the wild like her family has. She doesn't get out much though. Maybe Pea has?

[xserpentlife]

The Box

Requested: Can I request something for sweet pea please maybe where she is the definition of Northside princess the most popular girl in school rich beautiful everything and hates the serpents so the two hate each other but one day he finds her crying alone at the park and comforts her and the two become best friends and slowly fall in love thank you

A/N: Wow, I love the way this turned out, hope you love it too.

Warnings: mention of the death of a family member.

Word Count: 3155

You looked to your right to see your boyfriend fast asleep next to you. It was the first night you were actually sleeping over at his house. It was the first time you had the balls to even go there. It was a long road for you and him from the first time you both met. A long road to even being friends with one another. But you remembered every detail like it was yesterday.

*Flashback 6 Months ago*

“You know Reg, I don’t get why these damn Southsiders have to come to our school.”

“I don’t know but I do plan on making them leave”

“And you know what else Veronica is helping with everything!”

“Wanna go crash her little party?”

“Definitely” You and Reggie had walked down the stairs straight up to the welcome table to see Veronica introducing herself to the Serpents acting like everything was fine when it definitely was not.

“Don’t Veronica”

“Y/N?”

“They are not welcome here”

“Y/N they go to this school now the least you could do is be nice”

“Nice? To them? You're kidding me right?”

“No, they deserve as much of an education as everyone else”

“Yeah, well no one invited Southside Scum to our school Veronica, Listen up, I will not allow you slimy Serpents to ruin this school like you do everyone else. So I Suggest you stay to yourselves and try not get your slime on anything else to understand” A tall dark-haired boy stepped up to you then, someone you had never met but knew to be a serpent by the leather he dawned on his skin, an instant hatred rising in your chest knowing what they were capable of.

“Listen, we have as much of a right to be here as you do. So if you leave us alone we will leave you alone got it hot stuff”

“Hot stuff? You are repulsive. I could ruin you!”

“Yeah and I could ruin you too, would you want that Princess”

That was the first and last time you had talked to the Serpent, until a few weeks later when you bumped into him when he finally decided to come to class.

“Listen, class, we will be in pairs for today’s chemical reaction lesson, your pairs are listed up here on the board. Grab your supplies and the lab sheet and get started right away please” After walking up to the board your heart instantly dropped. Sweet Pea. You instantly knew that a weird name like that had to belong to a Southsider. You grabbed the supplies going back to the lab table and waiting for him to sit next to you.

“Listen here Sweet Pea, I need a good grade in this class which means I need you to listen to everything I say got it? Let’s not make it harder then this needs to be.”

“As much as I would love to make it harder for you I need a good grade too princess, so let’s just get this done”

“Fine” With that you got started on the project pouring the chemicals in slowly until Sweet Pea brushed against you. You were instantly pissed because you ended up pouring in way more than was needed a cloud of smoke coming up instantly, Sweet Pea pulling you back into his chest.

“Gotta be careful Princess”

“You are vexatious Sweet Pea”

*Flashback Ended*

You then looked over to his dresser where a photo of you two sat, and then your eyes landed on the jacket. The jacket brought back so many memories to the first time you were both nice to each other, the first time you both understood one another.

*Flashback 5 months ago*

Today was the day you dreaded, the day you never wanted to come. Today was the anniversary of your brother's death. Today was the only day of the year you skipped class, the only day of the year you wore black. You completely ignored your parents on this day other than the argument that happened every morning. You hated your parents for the way your brother was treated, you hated them even more now that they pretended his life, and even his death didn’t exist.

You did what you always did and sat on the bench outside of school, the last place you and your brother talked. Not many people knew of your brother and no one really bothered to come up to the crying girl. You liked it that way, you didn’t want anyone coming up to you. You just wanted to sit there and have your day of remembering.It was going along like it did every year you sat on the bench, you heard the school bell ring, saw everyone leaving to go home but you stayed sitting there. See that day every year you brought lunch and dinner to eat, in a hope to feel closer to him. In a way to apologize for not being able to visit him. It was going along until you felt a presence sit next to you on the bench.

“I guess the northside princess doesn’t have a perfect life after all”

“Not everyone is what they seem Sweet Pea”

“I never thought you were Y/N”

“Go away Pea”

“Well, that was rude. Also since when do you wear all black?”

“Why do you care? You hate me anyway”

“I don’t hate you Y/N, now what’s going on?”

“You wanna know what the fuck is going on Sweet Pea”

“Yeah, Kinda”

“Well let me fill you in, welcome to my life where I sit on this bench once a year. I sit on this bench through the whole day skipping class because it’s the only place I can be close to my brother”

“Your brother? I don’t get it”

“He died, he died 3  years ago Pea” Your crying became louder and you were going to wipe your cheeks but Sweet Pea beat you to it pulling you into his chest. In an odd, the way the scent of the leather mixed with oil and peppermint soothed you. It felt so familiar in a way you couldn’t exactly place, but at that moment you didn’t need to. “This is where I come every year because it was the last place I talked to him, the last place I hugged him. I just, I fucking miss him so goddamn much, I mean no one ever talks about him not even then. They won’t even tell me where he is buried Pea when he passed all they said when he didn’t come home was that he died. It was that cold Pea, literally two words, and no matter any question I ask about him they don’t answer. I mean he didn’t deserve to die, I don’t know what he did but he was only a year older than me Pea. All I fucking know about his death was that it was at some quarry and some guys in leather killed him and it wasn’t safe to go or some bullshit. We didn’t even go to a funeral Pea. I didn’t get to say bye, Jay was my best friend, he was everything to me and I didn’t get to say bye I mean what typ…”

“Wait, did you say Jay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Jay was your brother and he died at a quarry?”

“Yes, are you not listening or are you just trying to make me repeat myself?”

“Cmon, I wanna take you somewhere”

“What? Are you crazy, I’m not leaving Pea”

“Please” You knew Sweet Pea’s demeanor he wasn’t one to apologize, he wasn’t one to say please. Well at least not to you but something in that moment was telling you to follow, and to trust him. He grabbed your hand standing up and you stood up following him.

“I’m trusting you Sweet Pea”

“Good choice” He led you over to his bike, grabbing the helmet and giving it to you.

“You want me to get on that!”

“It’s our only option princess, trust me” You stood there trying to figure out how to latch it before his hand came up doing it for you. So you did, you trusted him climbing on after him, and putting your hands on his shoulders, but he grabbed them wrapping them around his waist. You rode for a while going through the Northside and then pulling into the Southside. You grip on Sweet Pea tightened the memories of people telling you to be careful of the Southside due to it being dangerous flashing through your mind. You pulled up to a graveyard, actually right up to a grave and you looked to it to see the name Jay. You were pissed.

“Pea, what the hell is this taking me to some random fucking persons…”

“Y/N stop, this is your brother” You were shocked to stay the least.

“Wait, what?”

“This is your brothers grave Y/N”

“Wait, how do you. Wait, is this why my parents won’t let me fucking come here?. My parents always told me the Southside was dangerous, how my brother was killed by some guys in leather. Pea please…”

“No, I didn’t kill your brother if that is what you are gonna say, jesus fuck Y/N. The Ghoulies killed your brother.”

“I’m sorry the what?”

“Look the Southside is kind of split into two parts. Some parts the Serpents own, some the Ghoulies. See the ghoulies are the one responsible for doing almost all of the bad shit you hear the Southside doing. The ghoulies set shit on fire, sell drugs, vandalize. Basically, name it and it is most likely them. I, on the other hand, am a Serpent. We do shit for our families, we sell shit, yeah but we are not involved in drugs by any means. We are usually protection details and things like that. I’m a serpent just like your brother was”

“Like my…”

“Yeah, your brother was a Serpent before I was. I met him about 3 years ago when I joined. He was a great guy Y/N. I don’t know much about his death, but I know enough. He was on a job with our leader FP and a few others. Something went wrong, and they tried to get out, but the Ghoulies went after them. Your brother stayed behind trying to protect everyone that was on the job, but it ended badly. He got stuck. I think it may have been a fire. But Y/N your brother died being a hero.”

“A hero”

“A hero Y/N. Your brother was incredible. He mentioned you before I just never really put it together cause I really didn’t know anything about your life. If I would have known I would have…” You hugged him then, knowing that maybe you and Pea were meant to be friends all along maybe your brother sent him to you.

“Thank you, but can I ask something?”

“Did you go to his funeral? Did my parents?”

“I did, but I’m sorry they didn’t. FP went to high school with your dad, but your dad stayed far away from the Serpents. So when FP came to your house talking about your brother dying your dad got pissed. I guess he didn’t know your brother was in or maybe he did I’m not sure. I just know that FP said they wanted nothing to do with the body”

“So what, you guys paid for everything?”

“We take care of our own Y/N”

“Thank you”

“It’s funny you know”

“What is?”

“I usually don’t go out of school that way but something today just told me to, and you know… I was planning on coming here when I left, but then I saw you and I needed to make sure you were okay. Maybe it was his way of bringing me close to you. Fuck that sounds so cheesy but Y/N what you said earlier. I’m an asshole I know but It’s my sense of humor and I’m so sorry you ever thought I hated you”

“It’s okay Pea, I’m just defensive of people, and I guess the leather and the Southside and my brother dying over here I don’t know, but I’m sorry”

“Can I take you somewhere else”

“Yeah, can I have a minute though”

“Of course” You spent those minutes talking to your brother like he was there, talking as if he never left. But also after that apologizing, apologizing for not being there, you cried again shaking before you wrapped into Sweet Pea’s arms again.

“C' mon princess let’s get you out of here”

“But I don’t wanna leave”

“Look Y/N I promise you I will bring you here whenever you want, I promise you”

“Really?”

“Yes”

“Thank you Pea”

“Of course, now can you come with me? Please”

“Yeah” You followed him blind again remaining in the southside before pulling up to a small trailer.

“Pea where are we?”

“My place, I uh… I wanna show you something” He led you inside having you sit on the couch before coming back in with a box, and a photo frame in hand. The frame showed your brother standing next to Sweet Pea. Your crying started again.

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought, ugh I thought you’d want to see it I didn’t mean… ah fuck”

“No, no I love seeing it thank you”

“I uh, that was the night of my initiation. Your brother was the last to hit that night he had a damn good right hook”

“I know, he taught me how to fight”

“You fighting?”

“There's a lot of things you don’t know about me Pea”

“Yeah, I got that, but you know I'd like to learn”

“I’d like that too”

“Oh, here this is yours” He opened the box pulling out a leather jacket. “He uh, he threw this on the ground before running back in the building FP grabbed it, uhm he gave it to me but I want you to have it”

“Were you and my brother close, from everything you've said, I uh…”

“Yeah we were, which brings me to the box”

“The box?”

“Mhm, he uh he always talked about you Y/N, even said he may bring you around one day so you could meet his family. You know he loved you a lot. He always said you were the reason he went home that if it wasn’t for you he’d have moved out already. But anyway one night he came over giving me this box, told me it had a bunch of notes and letters and things of his he wanted to give you in case… well in case he passed away. He was so afraid of leaving you behind but he didn’t wanna leave the Serpents either. You know he planned on running away with you, taking you from your parents giving you a good life where you could be you. He always told that to me, you were so important to him. He gave me this box and told me if anything ever happened he needed me to find you and bring this to you. I could never find you until I went to Riverdale high. I had no idea where to look. I tried so many times, but every time I asked anyone they would brush me off, guess I have that look for a Southsider. I wish I could've given this to you sooner, I’m sorry” You were full on sobbing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You got it to me. This is all because of you, thank you Pea” You spent hours that night looking through the belongings reading the letter labeled ‘When you get this box’. It explained everything. The reasons your brother joined, the way he felt like they were family to him, every little thing. You felt so close to him reading it all. Sweet Pea sat with you through it all either holding your hand or rubbing your back in comfort. Your brother left so many letters to you, so many letters for the future. You were interrupted by your phone ringing Pea grabbed it for you as it was sitting closer to him.

‘It’s your mom, she wants you home”

“I don’t wanna go home Pea, I… I can’t all those years acting like he was an outcast, acting like he didn’t exist all because he found a family on a different side of town, a family who actually cared about him. I can’t do it”

“You don’t have to, remember we take care of our own. You can stay here as long as you need”

*Flashback ended*

You curled back into his side thinking of the way you had become friends for a few months, slowly falling for him as time went on. You loved him with all your heart. Pea was your family, and you soon learned the serpents were too. You fell asleep after that memory waking up to the smell of bacon in the kitchen and a singing Sweet Pea.

“Hey babe”

“Hey princess,”  You noticed flowers on the table, something you always told him not to do cause it wasted money. He caught your gaze.

“They are for your brother, figured we could go visit since it’s his anniversary” You knew it was his anniversary and every year since that first time at his grave you had spent it there with Sweet Pea, but for him to get the flowers before you even woke up, for him to care that much showed you that you definitely made the right choice in becoming his friends, and definitely made the right choice falling for his cheesy pick up lines.

“Go get ready Princess, I’ll pack up some sandwiches so we can spend the day there”

“Thank you Pea”

“No need baby. Go get dressed I’ll wait on the bike”

So you did, you got ready throwing your brothers jacket on top of you and going out to the bike where Pea was waiting. You drove to the graveyard where your brother was buried. When you got there he pulled out a blanket laying it down before taking out the sandwiches and everything else he had decided to bring. He sat down ushering you towards him. You laid down with your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.

You spent the day at the graveyard with him. Him cuddling you into his body and telling you stories upon stories of your brother. You loved him for that. No matter how many times you asked him to repeat something he told you about him he never once got tired of telling you whatever you wanted to know. He never once got tired of you. You ended that day by thanking your brother for sending Sweet Pea your way.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

We’re All Broken Pieces

Genre: Fan Fiction (The Last Kingdom) Pairing: N/A Warnings: Character Death, Mentions of Abuse Rating: G Length: Short Story Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: A bit of Sihtric from the world of We All Need Something to Hold On To. A bit scattered and all over the place, it wrote itself that way, fitting since Sihtric is scattered in thinking ;) 

If you want to be tagged in my The Last Kingdom works, feel free to do so here!

Sihtric stood next to his best friend, his hands clasped in front of him, quiet and still, as the sun shone against the group. The sun shining at a funeral was almost comical.

Around him, Sihtric could see friends and family, all gathered for one grievous reason. Only days ago, his best friend had lost his wife, and these were the people who cared enough to gather to pay their respects and to bid the lovely Gisela farewell. On the other side of Uhtred stood Finan, the dark haired Irishman had traded his wide smile and jovial demeanor for a solemn expression.

Thyra; Uhtred's sister and a long time friend to Sihtric stood beside Finan with her husband, Beocca. On the other side of the grave Sihtric watched Gisela's brother, Guthred, the only blood family she had left. He was standing not too far from Sihtric's own blood.

Between the golden haired Hild and the mousy haired Osferth, stood the sable haired Sibbe. His twin sister, best friend, and life long partner in crime. Seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, Sihtric's heart ached.

He wanted to go to his sister, hug her, and rock her in his arms. To tell her everything would be fine. They would be fine, but Sihtric found himself rooted to the ground. Sihtric never left Uhtred's side, keeping guard over his friend as Uhtred had done for Sihtric so many times.

The longer he watched his twin, the more pull it had on Sihtric. He hadn't been to a funeral since they had laid their mother to rest. Sihtric and Sibbe had been only thirteen then. As much as Sihtric loved his mother, Elflaed's funeral had been half the gathering that Uhtred's wife had brought.

He remembered the day, as if it were yesterday. Dressed in a black suit with his hair combed to perfection, he stood next to his sister, clutching her hand and doing his best not to let his tears show. Sibbe had stood like stone, sandwiched between Sihtric and Thyra. Uhtred had stood behind Sihtric, his wild long hair tied back, and his steel blue eyes snarling at anybody who dared to look at the twins before him.

"She'll always be with you." Thyra had spoke, when the funeral had ended and the handful of people began to leave.

"Not now, Thyra." Uhtred had groaned, rolling his eyes and loosening his tie. He hated suits, but out of respect, his adoptive parents - Thyra's parents - had made their children dress well. Elflaed deserved a smart looking funeral, Sihtric had heard Ragnar, Sr. chide.

"But she will, our loved ones are always around us. Ravn said so." Thyra huffed, dragging her late grandfather into this. Typical siblings.

"We should go." Sibbe managed to speak, her voice quiet. Sihtric had barely heard her, over Thyra and Uhtred. Words escaping, Sihtric nodded taking one last look at the fresh grave.

Walking away and leaving his mother had been the hardest thing he had ever faced. At thirteen, a boy is supposed to be worried about sports, and girls, failing his next math test - not worrying about his sister and how they would make it through without their mother.

A man spoke, jarring Sihtric back to his present, talking about God and how he would welcome Gisela. Right. Did this man even know Gisela? She had a multitude of beliefs, but God was not one of them. Sihtric couldn't blame her. Despite his sister's Christian beliefs, which he often teased her for, Sihtric knew it was rubbish.

If there was a God and if he was so grand, why had he left two thirteen year old kids without their mother? If there was such a being, why had he left Sihtric to suffer?

It was shortly after their mother's death that Sibbe had began to find God. She would attend church every Sunday, without fail, preaching to Sihtric when she thought their father wasn't listening. Telling her twin about all the amazing wonders that this powerful man had in store for them. The only good that came from it, was Sibbe's constant faith drove their older brother Sven crazy.

Wild and reckless, Sven had been a handful since he was born. It didn't mean Elflaed loved her eldest son any less. Sven was sixteen when his mother passed away, not that he cared. Sihtric hated his brother, almost as much as he hated his father. Cruel and manipulating, Sven was an ass.

Sibbe's faith had drove Sven crazy, which meant when Sibbe was home, he was not.

"Shut her up." Sven moaned, a pack of frozen peas against his face. The result of another fight, Sven was always in some sort of scuffle.

"Let her be." Sihtric stood up for Sibbe, who was singing some hymn she had learned the previous Sunday. "She isn't hurting you."

Sven was taller than Sihtric, stronger, and wider. He was slow and dumb, as far as Sihtric was concerned, but it didn't stop his mother from always telling her sons to play nice. When they were little, Sven would take Sihtric's toys and bury them in the back yard, always leading to Sibbe attempting to beat up her older brother in Sihtric's defense.

"She's annoying." Sven continued to gripe. "And so are you."

Rolling his eyes, Sihtric picked up his text book, to move to his bedroom. He was over listening to this bullshit. It didn't matter what he said, because Sven would continue to complain and in the end, Sihtric would be the one to get punished.

Sihtric had to hide is smile, now, when he stole a glance of Ragnar, Jr. A few feet from where Sihtric stood, the tall and imposing, blond man stood with his wife Brida.

Once, when Sihtric had been ten or eleven, he had got into a fight with Sven. Bloodied and bruised, he and Uhtred went home, despite their best effort to gang up on the older boys. When Ragnar had saw them, he demanded to know what happened. Scared for his brother, Sihtric refused to tell the teenager the truth. Uhtred on the other hand...

The next day Ragnar had cornered Sven on the walk home from school, demanding to know if he was the one who'd beat up Uhtred and Sihtric. Later that day, Sihtric was home helping his mother make dinner when Sven came in with a busted lip and swollen eye.

Kjartan had lost it, screaming and raging that his kids were never to go near Ragnar and Sigrid's heathens ever again. They were useless and violent - ironic, Sihtric thought. Elflaed had told him that kids would be kids. Then sent Sven to clean up and to bed without dessert.

Sven was too much like his father. Sihtric had always felt that way. Even as a child, Sven would be granted special treatment, while Kjartan would tend to ignore Sihtric. His excuse was that Sihtric was too soft and not at all a real man, nor would he ever be.

Unlike Sven and his much older half brother, who he only saw on holidays, Sihtric was quiet and not at all a fighter. Until the day his mother passed, she was his shining light. Losing her had sparked a raging fire in the quiet boy.

Despite the change, Sihtric would never raise his voice or fists in anger. If he did, then it made him no better than Kjartan or Sven. His mother had always told him that the key to being a good man, was to be generous and kind.

"Real men don't fight with fists and the good ones are never belligerent." Elflaed would tell her youngest son, kissing his forehead and stroking her gentle hands over his dark hair.

Then she would turn to her only daughter, kiss her cheek, and tell her  “A good woman will fight as fearsome as any man, for what she wants.” Sihtric loved those moments with his mother.

The way she would smell, when he would sit with her on the couch, reading or watching tv. Her laugh - Sibbe had her laugh. Sihtric adored his sister, but when he'd had a few drinks and she began to laugh, it always left him with a lump in his throat and a hatred in his heart.

Hatred not for Sibbe or his mother, but for her loss. For the man who had tormented Sihtric, until the day he died.

Growing up, Sihtric and Sibbe had always been happy, safe, and loved. Sven, too. It wasn't until he grew older that Sihtric had learned the real truth about how cruel his father could truly be. If Sihtric had only known, then maybe he could have done something? He had failed his mother, in a way, allowing her to suffer all those years in silence.

She was a strong woman, never letting her children see the bruises or the scars, always with a kind and gentle smile. Sihtric should have known, Kjartan never hid his anger. Why had Sihtric never clued in that all that rage was being taken out on his poor mother?

Next to Uhtred; Sihtric clenched his fists.

Sihtric shuddered.

His hands clammy, his face pale. He caught Finan staring hard at him.

There had been some worry for Sihtric; Finan had held worry anyway. His friend didn't do well with death and this unfortunate accident was sure to bring back some sort of terrible trauma. Despite what Sihtric led people to believe over the last few days, inside he was still a boy, fighting for his life. The ghosts that were in Sihtric's head were beginning to come round in full force.

This wasn't about Shitric, which is why he had buried his emotions and focused everything he had on Uhtred and his family. Suppressing his emotions would only last so long, before the past came back. Sihtric shifted where he stood, his mouth dry as tears began to spill.

An accident had taken her away.

Sihtric had heard those words before. The police coming in and telling a family they had lost their mother, due to some unfortunate event. The difference was that this time it was an accident.

"Mom?" Sihtric could still hear his young voice, "Mom!" He called loudly, shaking his mother. When he didn't get a reply, he raced to the phone to call for help.

There had been so much blood. For nearly a year, Sihtric couldn't walk into the family room without fending off the urge to vomit. His body would shake and he would steady his breath, trying to push through in the best way he knew how.

"Your mother fell and hit her head." Kjartan's statement was cold.

At the time, Sihtric had been too grief stricken to realize, his mother's death was never just an accident. When the police had arrived, they were satisfied to claim it was exactly as Kjartan had said. She had fell and hit her head. As he grew older, Sihtric had dug deeper into the “accident”, finding what he had feared the most to be true. Without sufficient evidence, his hands were tied and his father got away with it.

If it hadn't been for forming a friendship with Uhtred; Sihtric felt that there were days, when he would have suffered the same fate as his mother. Uhtred would spend as much time with Sihtric as he could.

The two kids never discussed the bruises that Sihtric bore, they didn't need to. Uhtred wasn't stupid, he'd been the one who had told Ragnar that Kjartan was beating his youngest son. Sibbe, although aware of what was happening to her twin, had never suffered in the way Sihtric had.

If Kjartan had tried to raise a hand to his sister, Sihtric would have killed him. He would do anything, even now, to protect his sister.

Since becoming an adult, Sihtric had found that seeking help was a good way to begin the healing. He would never fully recover, who could? But he had made progress and had found some peace with his mother's passing.

Kjartan on the other hand - the only peace Sihtric would gain there was knowing that his monster of a father would never hurt his family, again.

Two years ago, when his father had finally died, Sihtric has spent two weeks in a drunken stupor. To an outsider it would sound terrible, but Sihtric had been so elated by his father's death, he didn't know what else to do.

Gisela, the shining light she was, had taken care of her husband's friend the best she could. All while still being the amazing and tentative mother and wife she was.

Sihtric had sat slumped on his bathroom floor, an empty bottle of tequila in his hand, a puddle of vomit next to the missed toilet. Tears staining his face, but Gisela didn't judge him. She had sat down, held open her arms, and let him cry until he fell asleep in her embrace.

"I could have saved her." He repeated over and over until he fell asleep.

"Sihtric, you were a boy. Nobody blames you, love." Gisela rocked him like one of her own children.

As much as Kjartan had tried, he could never break his son. Sihtric refused to be broken and defeated in the way his mother was. He had taken the abuse that Kjartan had decided to hand over without so much as a whimper.

If he showed pain or fear, Kjartan won. Sihtric refused to allow his father to win.

The first time Kjartan had hit Sihtric, the boy had been confused and drove himself crazy trying to figure out what it was he had done wrong. After a few weeks of taken a beating, for no reason, Sihtric thought he'd figured it out.

Kjartan was hurting, over the loss of his wife. Sihtric had taken it harder than anyone, being that he was the one who'd came home to find his mother. Obviously, his father didn't know how to cope.

A light breeze rippled through the grave yard, Sihtric felt the wind on his face, the sun still burning bright in the sky above. A father was to protect and love their children. When he'd learned the news of Gisela, one of the first things Sihtric had appointed himself was looking after the children.

He had been in their shoes once. Albeit Uhtred would never turn into the man Kjartan was, Sihtric had felt a need to protect the three young ones.

One day, Sihtric would settle down and have a family of his own. When he did, he would take everything he had learned about fatherhood from Kjartan and pursue none of it. He would love his children as fiercely as his mother - or Gisela. Sending his future children into the world with a firm and kind hand.

The loss of Gisela had taught him not to wait.

No more waiting, he would do it. He was getting down on one knee and asking Ealhswith to marry him. Sibbe would be thrilled, she'd always adored Ealhswith.

Sihtric had been in love with Ealhswith since her father had hired sixteen year old Shitric as a bus boy at Two Cranes. Ealhswith had been in her second year of university then, giving very little attention to the gawky boy working for her father.

Lying about his age to get the job in the pub, Sihtric also lied about his age to get a lease on an apartment with another young man working at the pub. Finan needed a roommate and Shitric needed a safe place for him and Sibbe to live.

Finan didn't ask many questions, although he knew Sihtric wasn't nineteen. His first year in college, Finan was more than happy to let the twins live with him. Shitric was a fantastic cook and Sibbe was always a breath of pure sunshine. Finan's own family life was estranged and he was no stranger to hard work and running away from an arsehole father.

Sihtric thanked his mother every day for sending him Ealhswith and Finan, when she had.

His mother had always known exactly what he needed. Sihtric snuffled through the tears, amused by the thought progression that his mind had taken. Scattered Sihtric is what Gisela would call him, teasing that he could never keep the same thought for more than a few moments.

Around him people began to move, parting ways, some retreating without so much as a word. Others forwarding their condolences as they prepared to leave. Sihtric stood rooted, his mind a million miles away. He could have stood there all night, allowing his own past to unravel, had his friend not needed him more.

"Shitric." Finan placed his hand on his shoulder, nodding his head toward Uhtred. Standing motionless, tears welled up in his eyes, and anger in his clenched fists, Uhtred stared at the grave. "Come on."

"Uhtred," Sihtric approached, his footsteps quiet in the grass. "We have to go, it'll be dusk soon."

"How? How do I leave her here?" Uhtred spoke, although his words weren't directly spoken to anyone.

"She'll be with you, our loved ones are always with us. I would be a liar, if I told you that it gets better, because it doesn't." Sihtric sighed, rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets. "It may never feel like you're whole again, but one day you wake up, you look outside and see the world and you know. You know she's with you and she's proud of you."

Uhtred's eyes red rimmed met Sihtric's gaze, a slow and dull nod let Sihtric know that his friend understood. A simple gesture between two men, told more than choked up words could.

@ceridwenofwales @laketaj24 @thewildbeauty @geekandbooknerd @therealcalicali @tiyetiye @pokeasleepingsmaug @goldentailedmermaids @sifshoney @wilddrabble @nxrdist @joyofbebbanburg @whenimaunicorn @carlya65 @kawennote09 @inforapound @tephi101 @shieldmaiden25 @naaladareia @captstefanbrandt

[gehlien]

eremin | soulmate AU | 2,4k | fluff, mutual pining & happy ending

Eren Jaeger had a simple ‘hi’ written on his wrist, aka the blandest thing the universe could come up with for him.

He couldn’t count the amount of mini heart attacks he’d experienced every time someone introduced themselves to him. The sudden leap from being hopeful to feeling disappointed always left a dry taste in his mouth. To prevent such situations, every time he heard ‘hi’ he would respond with some stupid sayings or random facts about marine life. Thanks to this he got plenty of weirded-out acquaintances, but no soulmate, because apparently no one had ‘I sexually identify as an alien’ tattooed on their skin.

Also, his sudden crush on his best friend Armin wasn’t helping at all. Because they were never supposed to work out. At least that’s what the experts said.

As opposed to Eren, the universe cursed Armin with the most bizarre soulmate mark it could offer. Many people had snorted their noodles out of their noses upon discovering it, others had made some silly remarks about it being kinky. Their reactions were totally understandable and justified, because how many people have ‘daddy’ forever carved onto their skin? A very exposed piece of skin, on top of that.

Another discouraging thing was the fact that all of their friends had already found their soulmate. In the case of Connie and Sasha, there was no room for misunderstanding, because each one of them had a very specific message on their skin. ‘Can I have your potatoes?’ and ‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll get too fat?’ are really hard to miss. Jean’s and Mikasa’a teetered on the edge of a casual exchange (‘Your hair is beautiful!’ followed by a simple ‘Thanks’), so it was a close call, but they managed to find themselves eventually, much to Eren’s displeasure.

“Come on, Armin, everyone knows what your mark says. You should stop wearing long sleeves to school,” Eren said, tugging at the hem of Armin’s shirt while they were on the bus.

“But the teachers have no idea,” he objected.

“If you’re so worried about it then you could cover it with another tattoo.”

“I’m not over eighteen yet.”

“You could get a written permission from you grandad?” Eren was one of these people who believed that finding a solution to a problem was always possible. As long as you also wanted to find it, of course. Which Armin seemed really reluctant to do.

“Maybe I’ll do it when I find my soulmate.”

“Why? Are you worried they won’t believe that it really says what is says?” It was supposed to be a genuine question, but came out as a snicker. “By the way, who the hell would be crazy enough to call you that in the first place? Probably some twat.”

“People these days are very cautious, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to check it. Which is understandable. I’d also want to be completely sure first before deciding to spend the rest of my life with one person,” said Armin, ignoring Eren’s second comment. “And that’s why you have to be three times as certain. In your case it’s even trickier.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Hi? This system is fucking stupid.”

“But accurate.”

“Who knows? Maybe there’s another person who’s so much better than your ‘soulmate’, but you’ll never know because you settled for what your wrist tattoo told you.”

Eren just couldn’t take it all at face value. Not when the love of his life was walking right beside him. It wouldn’t take a lot of effort to reach for the other boy’s hand. ‘Why can’t this be you?’ he thought, admiring Armin’s diminutive stature, his cute button nose, regal profile, and swaying blond bangs.

He looked at his tattoo, “I wish it said ‘Why don’t you ever fight back?’”. It was the first sentence he’d ever spoken to Armin and since then they’d always been on the same wavelength, no matter the circumstances. How could fate make such a grave mistake?

“I’m staying the night at Jean’s,” Mikasa said, stuffing her backpack with pyjamas and skin care products. “You can invite Armin over.”

“Does mom know?” Eren asked, propping his head on his hand. It was a sunny Friday evening, but he hadn’t got enough rest, so there he was lying flat on his stomach and scrolling through Facebook.

“Of course.”

“Use protection,” he whispered loud enough for her to hear. In turn, Mikasa threw a towel at his face. “Ew, I hope it never had anything to do with horseface’s body fluids.” He threw it back, and Mikasa caught it effortlessly.

“You wish.”

“Dude... you’re disgusting.”

He texted Armin that he was welcome to come over if he wanted. Armin didn’t let him down and agreed without second thoughts. Eren felt his soul ascend.

No other person in the world would ever be able to make him appreciate life as much as Armin. ‘They were perfect for each other’ didn’t even fit the description of how special their bond really was. But there existed a word that could.

Soulmate.

Remember that person you thought about in superlatives only, who met all of your expectations, understood you like no one else, and on top of that had an adorable laugh? Whose only flaw was that they were off limits? That’s how Eren perceived his current situation.

Eren looked at his wrist with burning hatred. He wanted to cry, scream, and punch, but instead he looked at Mikasa with bland expression, defeated.

“Are you happy with Jean?”

Mikasa looked at him, her expression stunned, and put down her phone.

“Yes. Why are you asking?”

“Are you sure he’s the one for you?”

“Well...” She put some stray hair behind her ear in one graceful motion. “We’ve been together for a year now... And I have no complains so far. Actually, I’m happy it’s him.”

“Hm...,” he let out a soft grunt. “Thanks, Mikasa. Have fun.”

After she left the room Eren desperately tried to look up some phrases like ‘soulmate mistakes’ or ‘wrong soulmate assigned to me’, but all in vain. The system was foolproof.

The only results that kind of answered his query were extreme cases like premature deaths, murderers, no soulmate mark or more than one tattoo. All interesting, but did nothing to calm his nerves.

Armin came into his house in a simple black T-shirt, no long sleeves in sight, and Eren sighed with relief. Also, he couldn’t deny that Armin looked like a snack with his forearms exposed and collarbone peeking from behind the material. ‘Is this what people call thirsty?,’ he thought, standing up to grab some spare pillows.

They spent an eternity deciding on a show to watch. The laptop lying on Eren’s lap generated so much heat that in the middle of the movie he had to take off his tank top.

The moment he did it Armin said, “I would kill for an iced coffee.”

Eren sent him a suspicious glare. Was it a direct comment about his bare torso? He wished it was, but at the same time he didn’t allow himself to interrogate Armin more, because in the worst case he’d be outed as a desperate over-reactor.

“I was thinking about going to a night club,” Armin said immediately after the credits rolled on the screen.

“Huh? Why?” The picture of Armin in such a dilapidated, dirty location rubbed Eren up the wrong way.

“I think that’s the place where I’m the most likely to be called...you know, daddy. God, it sounds so stupid.” The fact that Armin still couldn’t openly discuss his mark made the situation even more amusing. Frustration looked funny on his face. “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s good to see that I’m not the only one who’s desperate,” Eren said, winking at him suggestively.

Armin snorted, but let it go.

“Well, all jokes aside, it’s high time we finally found them,” he sighed.

As it turned out later, the drastic measures Armin proposed weren’t needed at all.

A distinct sound of giggles lured them both downstairs, where they found Carla and Armin’s mum sitting on the couch and visibly out of breath.

Upon entering the room they exchanged concerned glances. What was the purpose of this weird meeting?

“Why are you so shocked?” asked Armin’s mum.

“Who told you that old women couldn’t have a girls’ night?” Carla barely kept her composure.

There was a bottle of wine, half empty, and it explained everything. Eren sighed with great pain and drank straight from it; so did Armin a moment later, except he only took a gulp.

“Oi, you’re still a baby!” Carla’s motherly instinct kicked in despite her silly state.

Eren stuck his tongue out and launched himself at the pillows next to Carla. She just waved at him dismissively. Armin plopped down next to his mother and she ruffled his pretty hair. ‘They’re like two peas in a pond,” Eren thought. If you compared their looks and body type, they were almost the same: short, slim, and blonde.

Only Armin’s eyes made a difference, beautiful, deep, and ocean-like. Simply mesmerising.

“What are you doing?” Armin asked, peeking with curiosity above his mother’s arm. That’s when Eren also noticed she was holding a box full of photos.

“We were just talking about what a pain in the neck you two were when you were little,” Carla huffed, crossing her arms on her chest.

“Always ready to fight...” Armin’s mum sighed, probably remembering some vivid details.

“...and Mikasa had to save you every time...”

“because someone couldn’t stop baiting flat earthers...”

Armin let out a nervous laugh. He looked at Eren and shrugged. It really was pretty dumb.

“...and someone couldn’t contain his aggression.” Carla pulled Eren’s ear, who in turn yodelled.

“We get it!” They both said at the same time.

Carla went through the photos and took one with Eren still in diapers. She smiled fondly before showing it to others. “You were cute though,” she said. “I can’t believe you are already sixteen.”

“Muuum,” Eren whined. He couldn’t believe she had forgotten. “I’m already seventeen.” He hoped it was a joke.

Carla’s hand stopped mid-air, her eyes filled with dread. She quickly concealed it and mouthed something to Armin’s mother, who in turn paled and nodded.

“Really?” Eren raised a brow. He wasn’t offended or anything like that, he was just surprised by his mother’s forgetfulness. She always remembered about other people’s birthdays.

“As if you remember how old I am,” she said in an attempt to redeem herself.

“Forty five?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“You hesitated.”

“But I’m right,” Eren argued. Carla didn’t respond. Without saying a word, she got up and started rummaging through a cardboard labelled “kids”, and finally found a VHS cassette. Eren hadn’t seen one in a long time.

“What is it for?” Armin asked, out of his depth. For the whole time he was just watching the situation unfold like a complete bystander.

“You’ll see,” she said with a mischievous smirk.

Armin looked at his mother, hoping she’d give them some clue, but she shushed him. They could only watch Carla as she set up an old VHS recorder. It didn’t seem to cooperate at first, but eventually it swallowed the cassette whole.

Eren was expecting something tooth rotting and embarrassing, and his fears came true. He was now facing his ten month old self with chubby cheeks and running nose.

“Smile at mummy! Eren, look!” Grisha pointed at Carla, who was hidden behind the camera. She giggled. “Mummy’s right here!” The kid finally looked at the camera with innocent curiosity.

“Daddy?”

“Not daddy. It’s mum! M-u-m,” he said it, prolonging every vowel. This time little Eren managed to reproduce the sound with his unique, childish accent.

“Aww.” Carla was in awe.

Off-screen the door let out a soft creak, and then footsteps could be heard. Armin’s mum appeared in the frame with long fair hair and a cute baby boy in tow.

“Oh, who’s that? It’s auntie and Armin” Grisha told excited Eren, who suddenly started wriggling in his arms, probably begging to be put down on the floor. Mister Jaeger compelled and another shot showed Eren sitting in front of Armin, who seemed very interested in his thin brown hair. Eren, on the other hand, couldn’t stop staring into his big azure eyes. Some things never change.

“Daddy,” he said suddenly.

Armin, of course, didn’t understand, but replied with a word of his own.

“Hi.”

And then everything clicked into place.

Eren immediately found Armin’s eyes. They were looking back with delight.

“Does it mean what I think it means?” Eren asked, breathless. He felt as if a certain weight had been lifted.

“I can’t believe this...,” Armin said, and for a moment Eren’s heart stopped. Was he disappointed? Unsatisfied? “I’m so glad it’s you.”

If it weren’t for their mothers’ presence, Eren would jump into his arms and smother his face with kisses. One for every time he’d wanted to do that before. Unfortunately, he had to stay civil. At least for another while.

“I guess we’ll leave you boys to yourself?” Carla asked, visibly content with the outcome of this situation.

“Yeah.” Eren nodded. “Just one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Why have you kept this a secret for so long?” The question was also directed at Armin’s mum.

“Oh, honey...,” Carla sighed. “Would you rather I had told you when you were fourteen?”

“Yes. No.” Eren hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Children this age have better things to worry about than falling in love.”

“We were worried it would change your relationship. And you weren’t ready for romance yet,” Armin’s mother added, getting up and dragging Carla behind her. “We’ll leave you alone for a while.”

“Remember about consent. It’s important.” Was the last thing Carla said before exiting the room, and later the house.

It’s awkward, Eren thought, seeing how Armin kept avoiding his gaze. He could relate; those weren’t the best circumstances to find out someone you had already spent half your life with was your legitimate soulmate. At the same time, he understood his mother’s decision to withhold this news. It wasn’t a coincidence that 98% of people found their significant others in high school or even later.

“I’ve had a crush on you since we started high school,” Eren said to loosen the atmosphere.

“I’ve had a crush on you since you punched Floch that time.”

“Holy shit, that’s long!”

“But I think I always knew. That it’s you, I mean.”

“And are you happy about this?”

“Of course.”

“You’re lying!”

“Have I ever lied to you, Eren?”

Eren smiled. “Never.” Trying not to act too obviously, he sat a little bit closer. “So, can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Armin smiled and leaned in for a kiss, meeting Eren halfway.

[michael-hearteyes-wheeler]

Bad Brains

[1] [2] [3]

Chapter 4: At War with Myself.

(AO3) (FFnet)

November 15th, 1987

When El said goodbye to her old life, she had left everything behind and not looked back. She thought she could just drop everything and start over, with a new family, in a new town, at a new school, and a new outlook. She was right for the most part, but one thing she didn't account for were the nightmares.

God the nightmares.

It was like her own brain was betraying her. Every night she would go to sleep and be forced to relieve everything that she had gone through. Being passed around from home to home, every abusive foster parents, every meal she missed, every time she had been abandoned and left alone to fend for herself.

She lost count, after awhile, of all of the people and places she had met. All of their faces began to blur together into one ugly scowl of resentment and hatred. And in her dreams that same face taunted her, and chased her, and made her feel like the scum of the earth. She heard their voices, telling her that she wasn't good enough, that no one would ever love her. That she was doomed to spend her life unwanted and forgotten about.

These dreams always put her in a haze for the days that followed. Like a black cloud of self hatred and fear that she couldn't escape. The Therapist Hop made her see had told her it was normal, and that after a while it would go away, but that didn't make it any easier.

One more than one occasion her sobbing had woken Hopper up from his room down the hall,  he always tried his best to console her, but some things are just too painful to leave in the past, they just haunt you forever.

Tonight was different though. Instead of being woken up by her adoptive father gently holding her and telling her it would be okay, she woke up to complete and utter silence. She jolted upright, and tried to listen for the sounds of Hoppers breathing down the hallway, but there was nothing. No TV downstairs, no shuffling in the kitchen, no footsteps in the bathroom. It was strange, and unsettling, and it was far too reminiscent of all of the times this had happened in the past.

Waking up alone in a house you barely recognize, with no one around to hold you.

She swung her legs out from under her thick quilt into the cool night air. She tiptoed across her room and opened the door, not wanting to make a sound. She made her way to the staircase and listened hard for the usual sounds of the TV blaring some late night talk show below, but there was only silence in reply. She took a deep breath and descended the stairs.

She felt the breath leave her body when she saw his keys were still hanging up on the tiny hook next to his hat. He’s still here. She walked into the living room.

She could see his outline, wrapped in pulsing blue light from the TV screen. He was sitting in his usual chair, but instead of watching the program, he had set it on silent, and he was resting his head in his hand, the way he did when he was upset.

“Hop?” She said after a few seconds. Her voice so hoarse it was hardly more than a whisper.

Jim didn't say anything, instead he just stuck his arm out and waved El over. She complied, rounding his chair to face him. He had been crying, his skin was red and puffy and his eyes were badly bloodshot. She had never seen him cry before, he was always so strong.

“What's wrong?” Her own voice caught in her throat as if she had been the one crying.

He said nothing again, but he pulled her into a bear hug, holding her tightly as she curled into his lap. It was strange, but it also felt completely necessary. No one had held her, or hugged her, or cradled her in years, but it was something she didn't know she needed until tears started rolling down her cheeks.

They stayed that way for a long time. Both silent, the only noise spilling quietly from the TV in the corner. Jim rubbed her head, her hair was a mess of loose curls from her shower the night before. It was rare that she didn't have them slicked back and he always messed with them when he got the chance.

“I hope you know that I care about you more than anyone else in the world.” He finally said. His voice even more gravely than usual.

She pulled away from the hug to look at him, for the first time, finally seeing what he looked like when he cried. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, and read it in his eyes, but it was hard for her accept. “Why?” It was the only thing she could think to say.

“Because you needed someone to take care of you. Because you were all alone but you still acted so tough” He chuckled despite his tears. “And because while I thought I was just doing my job, just doing the right thing, I needed someone to take care of. I needed a reason to be a better person.” His voice was full of guilt and remorse. He sounded so vulnerable compared to how calloused he usually was.

With that she started crying harder. Her small frame shaking with her sobs. He hugged her closer and rocked her gently the way he used to with his own daughter.

“I just hope you know how much I love you, Kid. Even if it takes you the rest of your life to believe. I love you.”

El hugged her father tighter. His words were hard to swallow, because not long ago she wouldn't have been able to believe him. But now that they were all each other had, she knew she had to start the process of forgiving herself for all of the things she blamed herself for, and move on. When everyone leaves you, you start to assume it's your fault, but Jim never let her think for a second that it was.

“I know Jim. I love you too.”

November 20th, 1987

The next week flew by.

Max’s evil plan had gone off without a hitch. Thompson cancelled his classes for two days while he and the janitor cleaned up the mess. They had no leads as to who the perpetrators were because, after all, he was the most hated teacher in school.

Max and El started spending more and more time with the Geek Team, or the ‘Party’ as they called it. Max, Dustin and Lucas formed an unlikely bond and hung out almost every chance they got. They often rode around together, the boys on their bikes and Max on her board, to the arcade after school. Rumor has it that Max even went with them to the library one day so Dustin could show her his favorite book about the history of practical jokes.

El and Will bonded pretty quickly too. It turns out that little Byers had a pretty expansive music taste.

“I should have known!” El had told Will after finding his The Clash mix in his backpack. “Jonathan complimented me on my Talking Heads shirt on the first day of school. He was like the first person to ever talk to me here.”

Then began a daily routine of gushing over new albums and songs, and debating the merits of one band over another. They made each other mixtapes and often walked to and from the classes they shared, squishing their heads together to listen to Els dinky headphones.

The only one who seemed out of place was Mike. Ever since Max told him the way El felt, a concept he still had trouble believing, he found it really hard to be around with her without turning into a big dope. He was almost jealous of Wills connection with her, but ultimately he was just happy Will had found someone he had so much in common with.

It was a grouping that rattled the entire High School social ladder. Could scary punk girls really be friends with scrawny nerds? Could brainiacs really stand hanging around cigarette smoking, thick-skulled, freaks? It was weird, that was for sure, but it didn't really start to freak anyone out until the first day that they all sat together at lunch.

“Holy shit are they coming to eat with us!?” Dustin spat as the two girls, lunch trays in hand, slowly made their way across the cafeteria.

“Why wouldn't they? They are our friends aren't they?” Mike said, pushing his gross mushy peas around on the plastic tray.

“Well yeah! But sitting with someone at lunch is a way bigger deal than just hanging out in between classes. Once you eat lunch with someone you are socially cemented together for life!”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Lucas flicked Dustin's ear. “I'm just glad they aren't eating out behind the dumpster like usual. That's what’s weird.”

The girls walked over, faining obliviousness to the blatant stairs from around the room, and plopped down at the boys table. Max taking a seat next to Lucas, and El squeezing herself in between Will and Mike.

“So what are we doing today?” Max said with a mouthful of bread.

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“Its friday, as in the weekend, as in no school so we need to do something fun.”

“We could go to the arcade!” Lucas chimed.

“Ugh no we do that like everyday and i'm out of money.” Max groaned. The other boys nodded and mumbled something about being broke too.

“Okay well... We could go to the library.” Dustin contemplated.

“I mean I guess, but that hardly sounds like an exciting weekend.” Max rolled her eyes.

Mike thought about all of the things that might be fun to do, but he figured that most of them were too dorky for El and Max to want to be a part of. He looked over at El and watched her passively stab at her food. Mostly just mixing it around rather than eating it.

“Everything okay?” He asked her quietly. It's not like the other could hear over Dustin and Max’s bickering anyway.

“Huh?” She looked up at him, suddenly snapped back to reality. “Oh yeah. Everything is fine I just... i'm failing geometry and my dad is totally going to freak out on me. Mrs. Lawrence asked me to stay after class and everything. I doubt i'll be able to do anything this weekend.”

“Oh that really sucks.” He mused. Mike had never failed anything in his life, and he could only imagine the wrath of his mother if he ever did. He had always enjoyed math in all of its forms, he excelled at it. He was even Mrs. Lawrence's star pupil, a title that earned him a lot of torment.

“Are you hearing this shit El!?” Max hollered from across the table. El jumped from the startle of being yelled at and looked up. “They told me there is a cool junk yard on a hill! It has a bunch of old broken down cars and TV’s and stuff!”

“That sounds cool.” El smiled with a slight nod. “But I don't think I can hang out today.”

“Well your loss then, i'm totally going to smash in some windows.” Max high-fived Dustin and Lucas and they planned their entire trip.

The rest of the day went by in a fog for El. The emotional interaction she had with Hopper just a few days before had put her in a weird headspace. She really was learning to love him, even if it terrified her. He was goofy, and protective, and above all else he was trying. So she wanted to try too.

El had always been great with anything English related. When she didn't have anyone to play with or talk to, books became her best friends. So while she had an A in English Lit., and in her creative writing class, math was another story. She hated it. Numbers made no sense to her. Not the way words did. But, she had promised herself to stay out of detention, and to get her grades up, and if that meant suffering through after school study sessions with her teacher then so be it.

After her final class of the day, she made the long walk of shame back to Mrs. Lawrence's classroom and waved goodbye to Max, Dustin, and Lucas who were all going off to the junkyard.

“Good afternoon Ms. Hopper.” Lawrence said from behind her romance novel. “Why don't you take a seat while we wait for your tutor to arrive.”

“Tutor?” El gaped. Her heart started racing at the thought of having to spend the next three hours with some asshole, mouth breathing, brainiac who would no doubt belittle and talk down to her the entire time.

“Yes dear. Here he comes now.”

El swiveled around to watch her dreaded mentor walk through. But instead of some rude, gossipy stranger it none other than;

“Mike!?” Els mouth fell open, and then turned into a wide grin. Three hours alone with Mike in the quiet library? That didn't sound too bad at all.

“Mr. Wheeler has the highest grade of all my students” Mrs. Lawrence beamed, standing up from her desk with a stack of papers that she handed to Mike. “This is everything Ms. Jane needs to get caught up on. I know its a lot but if anyone can help her it's you.”

“Yeah no problem, it's my pleasure.” Mike smiled coyly at El and she blushed.

The two of them walked slowly toward the schools library where a couple of other students were studying. It was mostly empty and really quite. They found a private corner with two cozy chairs and a small table between them and set up the stacks of papers, sharp pencils, and textbooks. El and Mike couldn't stop stealing quick glances at each other.

El pulled her legs up into her chair so she was criss-cross, and leaning over her hardly used textbook. Mike noticed the tiny doodles all over the tips of her converse, and the way she nervously picked at her chipped black nail polish. When Mrs. Lawrence had asked him to tutor someone after school he had practically jumped out of his skin, knowing it would be El. And now he got to watch the way her nose wrinkled in confusion at problems she didn't understand, and the way she rubbed the bridge of her nose the way he had seen Chief Hopper do whenever he had to come to the school to break up a fight.

“So...” Mike started, remembering a key piece of information that Mrs. Lawrence had told him. El looked up, her doe eyes expectant. “Jane?”

El's wide eyes somehow shot open wider and her mouth dropped open into a half surprised, half smiling, glare. “Do not call me that!” She slammed her textbook closed and pointed a finger at him. He couldn't help but laugh.

“Why not? Jane is a good name.” He snickered.

“Oh my god no its not! It's a name for a grandma!” She rubbed her temples. “I haven't gone by Jane since I was like 6. It's not me.”

“Well where does El come from then?”

“It was a nickname an old friend gave me a long time ago. Its short for Eleven.” She shrugged, her cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink. Eleven had been her bed number at the massive foster home she stayed at. Everyone called each other by their bed numbers, or their home cities. Keeping a level of unfamiliarity between each other, because they knew nothing was permanent.

“Eleven? Like the number?” His nose crinkled in confusion.

“Its... kind of a long story.” El's smile faded as she glanced at her shoes.

“Well I think Jane is cute.” He smiled at her. His freckles rising and falling on his cheeks.

El's heart constricted and her stomach twisted itself into little buzzing knots, and just like that, she was grinning again. He was so nice, and sweet, and adorable! It made her feel like her protective walls were coming down and it horrified her.

‘God I am such a sucker.’

He was still staring at her and her heart only beat faster.

‘Shit what would Max do? What would Max say? Max wouldn't be a little coward.’

“Well I think you're cute.” She said, turning her nose up just slightly the way Max always did. Mikes eyes flew open and now it was hit turn to redden and bury his face in his hands.

“Lets... lets just study okay?” He said under his breath with an embarrassed grin.

El opened her book again and they started tackling one assignment after another. Mike really was great at geometry, and he was even good at explaining it in a way that made sense. A couple of times he had shifted to the very edge of his seat so that their knees were touching. He would lean over the book in her lap and point to various problems on the page and simplify them for her. She loved watching the way he pushed up the sleeves of his long polo when he got invested in explaining a problem, and the way he bit his lips when he focused. She was actually having fun while learning!

Every time she looked up from her notes, the sight of him made her head swim. She couldn't quite figure it out. Why did he make her feel this way? It was all so new and unfamiliar. They had very little in common, at least from what she knew about him, and if it weren't for Lucas and Dustin wanting to be daredevils all of the sudden then they would never have hung out in the first place. Mike was painfully dorky, and painfully different than anyone El had ever imagined herself being with, and yet she imagined being with him all the time. What was it about him that drew her in?

For Mike it was much of the same. El was definitely the last person he ever expected to be making heart-eyes at in the Library. She certainly wasn't the type of girl that his parents would want him bringing home (although they would probably be happy with him bringing any girl home). But everything about her fascinated him. At first it seemed like maybe it was just the fact that she was the first girl to ever really talk to him, or laugh at his jokes, or invite him to hang out. He assumed it would wear off and she would become just his good friend the way Max was, but the longer they spent time together the more intense his feelings became. Suddenly it was like everything she did filled him with fascination and adoration.

She was a mystery that he wanted to solve. He closed his book and stretched, feeling a bit stiff from leaning over his notes for so long.

“El?” He asked tentatively, wanting to get to the bottom of at least some part of all this. She looked up at him curiously with those warm doe eyes of hers. “What... what is your deal?” He wasn't really sure how to put it, but he knew that that probably wasn't it.

“My deal?” El asked raising her eyebrows and looking somewhat offended.

“Shit I didn't mean it like that... I just mean like...” He thought for a second, wanting to find better words this time. “I have just never met anyone like you before, and I never thought someone like you would want to talk to someone like me, let alone hang out with me. And I have never been to Chicago so I don't know what people look like or act like there but you are just so different from what I thought you would be.” By the end of his speech he was mumbling and speeding through his words.

El laughed and closed her book. “Haven't you ever heard the saying ‘Don't Judge a book by its cover?’ She waved her textbook at him. She was still smiling, so that was a good sign, wasn't it?

“Well yeah of course I have I just mean-”

“You just mean that you thought I was going to be some angry, bitter, feminist, psycho who would rather kick your teeth than be seen talking to a nerd.” El interrupted, still smiling but also still completely dejected.

“No no not at all!” Mike back-peddled. El raised her eyebrows and he caved. “Okay yeah maybe a little.”

“Well there are a lot of things you don't know about me.” El crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I might be a little bitter, and a little angry but you would be too if you had seen the things that I have seen. But i'm not mean, at least not to people who don't deserve it.”

Mike felt like an idiot. “You're right. I don't really know anything about you, but I would like too.”

She eyed him carefully. He was getting way too close for comfort with her emotions. “We are just from completely different planets okay? You wouldn't get it.”

Now it Mikes turn to be offended. He may not share her experiences but he considered himself a fairly empathetic person. “You don't know that I wouldn't get it. There is a lot you don't know about me either.”

“Let's see about that.” El snorted, sitting forward to look directly at him. “I'll bet your parents are still together, and super in love. I bet your dad has a good job and makes a ton of money so your mom gets to stay home all day baking cakes. I bet when your dad comes home at night your mom drops everything and hands him a beer and rubs his feet. I bet they love and support you and give you everything you have ever wanted.” Her eyes were like daggers, piercing through him.

Mike scoffed and shook his head. “Now who is judging who? I'll have you know that my dad is a bastard. I wish my parents would just split up already because they may as well be complete strangers. My dad thinks I am a loser and my mom tries her best, I guess, but they both basically don't pay any attention to me.” He was raising his voice slightly, talking about his family always put him on edge. El just stared at him silently, clearly not expecting the outburst.

“I'm the only boy, and my dad wanted so badly for me to be into sports and be all athletic like he was in school, but i'm not and I know he resents me for it. So yeah, maybe I have had a good comfortable life with two parents in a nice house, and maybe my parents do love me but the definitely don't like me.” Mike slumped back in his chair with his arms crossed tightly against himself.

El softened, realizing that all of that was probably really hard for him to say. She put a hand on his knee despite him looking away from her. “Look i'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off like a bitch, okay? I know what's it's like to have an asshole father. Believe me.”

Mike turned towards her and dropped his arms into his lap. El was still holding his knee but she was staring solemnly at the ground. “Is... Is that why Hopper adopted you? Because of your dad?” He asked in almost a whisper.

El took a deep breath and nodded. She could feel her protective force field falling down around her, and as much at it terrified her, it also felt like maybe it was the right thing to do. Maybe it was better to talk about it.

“Yeah. Kind of. It's a lot.... that I don't really want to get into.” She pulled her hand from Mike's leg to play with the frays on her shoe laces nervously.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But i'm here if you need to talk.” He patted her arm gently and it made her smile.

“Thanks. It's just hard to think about.” She took a sobering breath and gained her composure. “I was really little so I don't remember very much, so I guess that's good. But before Hopper found me I was living on the streets with some other foster kids. I looked up to them a lot and they showed me all about music, and art, and about how corrupt society is. We ran away and it was scary but it felt really exciting to be part of something for the first time. We were like a family..”

“Do you miss them?” Mike asked quietly.

El shrugged.. “Sometimes. But they bailed on me too. That's when Hopper found me, and I am really grateful for that.” She grinned crookedly. She had only ever really opened up to Max about any of that, and it wasn't even scratching the surface of what she was holding onto. But saying it all out loud made it easier somehow, like it wouldn't weigh on her so heavily.

“Well i'm glad you are here now, and that you have a family, and new friends.” He smiled at her, leaning in closer, their faces only a few inches apart. “Because we would never leave you or hurt you.”

“You can’t know that.” She dropped her gaze from his to her hands in her lap.

“I promise.” He grabbed her hands in his and squeezed them lightly. “Our parties number one rule is that friends don't lie.” He tilted his head under hers so that she was forced to look at him, and could see that he meant it. “And besides, if I can put up with Lucas and Dustin after all of these years then i’m sure you will be no problem at all.” He flashed a silly grin at her and it made her chuckle.

“Okay then. It's a promise.” She pulled from his grasp and held her hand out firmly for him to shake. He did so sternly and they both giggled, turning red in the face.

Usually El didn’t care about someone else's promise, because no one had ever kept their word to her before, but something about Mike seemed so trustworthy. She still had a difficult time with even the idea of opening up. She still blamed herself for so much, and with Mikes kindness and honestly, it just felt like too much. Like she didn't deserve it. Like he would, at any moment, realize that she was a mess, and he and the rest of the party were far better off without her. That they would leave her too, but at least she was willing to try. Mike made her want to try.

Three long dreaded hours had flown by in only minutes, and before either of them knew it, the Librarians as informing them that the library would be closing.

“So did any of that help?” Mike asked as he shoved his notebooks back into his backpack.

“Yeah actually, it helped a lot. I think I can probably finish the rest of this over the weekend.” She smiled at him and stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

They both made their way outside into the chilly November evening. The sun was still about an hour from setting, but everything was vaguely tinted a pale shade of autumn orange. They both stood in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither wanting to say goodbye just yet.

Mike reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the ground. “I um... I had fun hanging out with you.” His pale freckles were awash in red blush.

“I had fun hanging out with you too.” El punched his arm playfully. “And if I need any help with my homework this weekend, i'll call you.”

“Sounds good.” He beamed, smiling wider than he meant to. “Okay well... I guess I will see you later?”

“Yeah see you around.” El hugged her denim jacket tighter around herself and prepared for the walk home. Mike turned around and shuffled off towards the bike rack, when El remembered something. “Hey Mikey?” She hollered.

He whipped around so quickly that he tripped over his own feet, making her giggle. “Yeah what's up?” He semi-jogged back over to her.

She dug into her backpack and pulled out her Walkman. She pressed the little eject button and the tape deck popped open. “Here, why don't you listen to this over the weekend and report back to me with what you think on Monday. That way you have homework too.” She grinned.

“Yeah sounds awesome!” He blurted. She giggled again.

“Okay, Wheeler. See ya.” She waved goodbye one last time and turned away, walking up the long hill towards home. She reached reflexively for the pack of cigarettes in her pocket and lit one, letting warm smoke waft into the fall air around her. It was one of the first times in a long time that she wasn't using it to calm her nerves, because the nerves she felt were strangely comforting.

Mike held the little plastic tape in his hands and felt warm blush cross his face for what must have been the hundredth time that evening.

[7r0773r]

The Cheffe: A Cook’s Novel by Marie NDiaye, translated by Jordan Stump

I saw the harsh white glow of the lights shining onto the sidewalk from the three barred ground floor windows, and I painfully envied the Cheffe, who was working inside, in the inspiring solitude of the night, in the infinite, intoxicated hours of the night, chopping, cooking, testing, all alone and all-powerful in the thick silence of the night, how I envied her for not being weighed down by love, for doing what made her happier than anything on earth, with no one and no sad thoughts of anyone (apart from her daughter, but was that love, wasn’t it crushing despair?) troubling the pure, simple joy of her favorite thing, of creation fixed solely on itself and perfectly happy to have nothing exist around or outside it.

How I envied her, yes.

But I wouldn’t be telling the whole truth if I didn’t add that I was perfectly happy loving the Cheffe as I loved her.

Who knows which is better? (pp. 66-67)

***

 The Cheffe preferred to cook from her own ideas but didn’t say no to the Clapeaus’ timidly expressed wishes, she like pleasing them, she liked them to drift happily off to sleep while in her little room above theirs she thought over her work, sometimes so excited that she got out of bed, went down to the kitchen, and paced through the room visualizing what she’d do the next day, and then, more hazily, what she’d do in all the days to come, and all the years, thinking with almost painful euphoria that a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to create the infinitely varied, enigmatic, fertile cuisine she had in her mind, and there were so many ingredients she didn’t yet know, and her swarming thoughts invented beautiful, abstract images of finished structures that she wanted her cooking to resemble, she felt that but didn’t understand what it meant, it was too soon, she had too little life and experience behind her to pin it all down, she thought about it endlessly but still it was too soon, and she hated being so young, such a novice, she had no reason to fear but she feared it would be too soon forever. (p. 139)

***

She grew to hate Millard’s vitriolic reflections on the state of the world, on French politics, on the Bordeaux city government, so much that she started to fear them, alarmed at the force of her hatred, realizing she didn’t know much about anything he was talking about and nonetheless sensing that she had to fight off Millard’s influence, that there was something ugly in the way he furiously mocked everyone on all sides, the way he delighted in the ugliness or illness of an elected official, of a customer, the way he howled in malignant joy at the bankruptcy of another restaurant, and Millard seemed to her fearsome and very small, monstrously powerful in her life and tiny outside his kitchen, and that disparity worried her, shook her; wasn’t that a sign of her own weakness, her own insignificance? That she was so disturbed by Millard, that she hated and feared him and so let herself be distracted from the undivided emotions she wanted to feel for cooking? (pp. 174-75)

***

I spotted a light behind the kitchen’s grimy windows.

Derelict and befogged, I looked at that light and told myself there was no light there at all, only a projection of my grieving, regretful memory, and walked on.

Then I turned back, not under the impetus of some second, more rational thought but mechanically, like the zombie I’d become, I put my face as close as I could to the barred window, and after many long minutes, little by little, I convinced myself that the lights were indeed on in La Bonne Heure’s kitchen.

Suddenly trembling all over, my forehead knocking the bars, I rapped at the glass, several times, harder and harder. 

I stood up straight, I hurried to the restaurant door, I was afraid those truths would become dreams if I wasn’t quick enough, the lights would go out, I had to catch reality off guard to keep it from mutating, such was my frantic, desperate reasoning—hurry, get to the door of La Bonne Heure before the Cheffe, if that really was her, could disappear.

And the door opened, the Cheffe pulling it toward her as she backed into the dimly lit dining room.

“It’s you,” she said quietly, sweetly, in the grave, clear voice I hadn’t heard for more than two years, and it hit me just where I’d long since stopped feeling anything alive, simple, spontaneous, and I felt my shrunken lungs opening up, a searing pain ripped my chest as a feeble, forced smile deformed my mouth, and I walked in without a word, powerless to speak, my hands clenched over my left breast—how cold and constrained I must have seemed, how wooden and emotionless, I told myself, overcome, unable to speak a word, only aware of the dull stiffness, so contrary to what I was feeling, that was paralyzing my features just when I longed for the Cheffe to recognize me as the love of her life, nothing less, because I’d so often imagined this scene that the most unlikely scenarios had taken on the texture of possibilities, and then likelihoods, so when I imagined what would happen if someday I saw the Cheffe again my day-dream began at the moment when she laid her eyes on me and realized at last that I was the one man she could love, since I alone loved her blindly. (pp. 276-77)

***

When I got to the inn, just off the national highway, they told me the Cheffe was waiting in the garden.

I walked through the empty dining rom, with its hard beige tile, its polished wood furniture, and I found myself in an enchanted garden, oh, those are exactly the words that came to my mind.

The Cheffe was sitting at a little table in the grass, with black and white chickens wandering freely among the fruit-covered cherry trees. Between those trees, as if by chance, grew carrots, rocket, peas, and beans, which those round, tidy chickens pecked at here and there, strangely perfunctory, as if they had everything they wanted and were doing all this purely for show, for the sake of the tableau.

The Cheffe heard me, stood up, luminous, pure, and crisp in a white cotton dress I’d never seen on her before, with her open, unadorned face that in its perfection was nothing other than what it was, I couldn’t help taking that face in my hands for a moment, and the Cheffe didn’t pull back or protest, my heart was gripped by a sharp, limpid sadness that caused me no real pain.

The Cheffe invited my to sit down, then she called toward the inn, and almost immediately we were brought two glasses  and a bottle of Graves in an ice bucket.

I asked the Cheffe where her friends were. “What friends? There’s only you,” she answered with a smile.

She poured the wine, tilted her head back to feel the sun on her skin. 

Then I decided to chase away the unease and anxiety that were stupidly keeping me from enjoying the moment, and I offered my face to the sun along with her.

When I quietly, happily told her how hungry I was, the Cheffe sat up, stretched out her arm, and pointed toward the chickens, the young vegetables, the ripe cherries.

She told me the meal was there, spare, magnificent, and perfect.

We could imagine the taste of each element, and the taste of them put together. She would never invent anything simpler or more beautiful, and so our wine, that excellent Graves, was all we would need for our lunch, the culmination, she said with a painful seriousness, of the long ceremony that was her career.

Three days later, on Wednesday, the Cheffe died in her bed, with no sign of a fight. (pp. 286-87)