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something-special-you-are · 5 months ago

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yahh this is my ch1 of my first nellfia fic. it's a modern art student au set in the darkroom. go read it babay!!!! pasting it onto tumblr for convenience if u like.. feedback (or reading it at all) is appreciated so much.. i love u

Chapter One:

dead art/impossible things

Nell cursed herself.

She had a free afternoon, and owed Charles a favour - never, ever a good place to be. They were both Foundation students at Broadwater School of Art in Tottenham: old friends from the same year, though rather different disciplines. After a darkroom-related incident that he refused to dig into the details of, he had found himself in Sofia Blancheford's bad books - arguably an even worse place to be. She took rules and regulations very seriously, and though she didn't technically hold any power over what Charles did with his life, the lab was essentially her domain.

"You're not scared of her, are you?"

"Yes! Yes, I am. Please, Nelly, she likes you."

"No, she doesn't."

"Well, she tolerates you a little more than she tolerates me. Which is a big deal."

"Get Amadin to do it, she actually likes him."

"He's a busy man, Nell, and he hates conflict, you know this."

"What, and I love it, do I?"

Claiming pitifully to be banned, he had sent her downstairs to print the photos from a black-and-white fashion shoot of his, tooled with a thin plastic wallet containing the strips of negative film, a contact sheet with the best photos circled along with some numbers, and clear-ish instructions. Holding the sheet up close, they were lovely photographs, Nell thought - they displayed some of the elaborate costumes that Charlie had been crafting over the past couple of months. He was currently upstairs in the main studios, absolutely going to town on an embroidery hoop, desperately trying to finish the details of some decorative garment before the fashion crit next week - meaning he was especially grateful for her help.

The sculptor herself hadn't been in the laboratory since last year, and found it a generally disorienting place, smelling too strongly and all decked out in old, heavy, menacing equipment.

Unfortunately, she was a good friend - and since she rathered Charles not be killed, she stuck by her favour. Hopping down the stairwell, she passed the entrance leading out to the sculpture yard, where early March sunlight and fresh air pooled into the building. Clay dust floated from her jeans to swim around in the pale rays, and she walked a little slower. She turned the corner onto a hallway she rarely came by. The lightroom door was invitingly open.

As soon as she walked in, the harsh vinegar-like smell filled her lungs, and she grimaced. She'd reek by the end of the day. It wasn't a tiny room, but it was packed full; a chemical-stained metal basin stretched the length of the wall, which displayed dozens of safety information sheets, and grids declaring measurements; strings hung from the ceiling, dotted with paper hanging from wooden pegs; plastic equipment that Nell couldn't identify overflowed the shelves above the counter opposite. The door to the darkroom stood to the left, heavy and foreboding and plastered with warnings that Nell didn't bother reading.

She pushed it open and let it click shut behind her, allowing the pitch black to swallow her. Memories of a short, dark corridor returned - there was a second door up a few yards ahead, and all Nell had to do was find the handle - easy enough, but the consuming darkness disoriented her slightly. Fumbling with the final door, the dull red lamps that lined the darkroom ceiling were revealed, along with the quiet, albeit spooky whisper of running water. The light blue trim of her dirty white t-shirt turned grey. It was like stepping into another dimension. She knew the enlargers she needed stood against the walls, so clutching her materials, she moved blindly, and a little too confidently, away from the door - it was not as straightforward as that. She made it not two paces before colliding with an inky, fluttering shape that materialised in the middle of the room. Nell jumped and scrambled to get out of the way.

"Jesus Christ!"

"Watch yourself! And knock, please," they replied indignantly, clearly ruffled.

"I can't see a bloody thing! I thought I was alone in here, you scared me!" Nell protested, then regretted it slightly, because she had no way of knowing who she might be arguing with.

Squinting to adjust her eyes, she made out a dark head of hair and a sharp, cross little face. It was, indeed, Sofia Blancheford. She was not so lucky to have the lab to herself. They were classmates, and vaguely knew each other through Amadin and Charles, but rarely crossed paths - mainly because Nell was usually out and about in the yard, or bouncing around the studios, and Sofia was usually locked up in here. Nell had seen her work during crit; she was a fantastic student. She probably knew more about the darkroom than the technician did. As well as this, she was also reserved, aloof, and a little moody - not unkind, but no class clown, indeed. And now, Nell Trotter had waltzed into her domain and almost knocked her right to the ground without so much as a hello, how are you.

"It says 'knock,' in big red letters on the door," she snapped.

"Right. Well. Sorry. I'm not a big reader," Nell offered, somewhat sarcastically, somewhat flustered. Sofia gave a sigh of exasperation in response, and mumbled something about how it's a good thing I wasn't holding anything dangerous, strutting over to the basins to continue whatever sorcery she was up to. Nell rolled her eyes under cover of darkness, and located an enlarger to work on.

It was time to dust off her photography knowledge. According to her expertise, there was one thing she would need for certain.

"Um, where's the paper?"

There were a couple seconds of silence following Nell's sheepish request, before a curt voice crossed the room in response.

"In the fridge."

Low humming suggested the refrigerator running gently in the corner.

It glowed crimson on the inside to match the rest of the room, and was stacked with boxes of paper and film. She browsed the labels, and made the brave choice to crack a joke.

"No chance of me getting to store my lunch in here, is there? Only, the shared fridge is-"

"No," came the voice again.

Nell smiled to herself and picked the most familiar A5 package, and retrieved a few sheets. They were nice and cold on her fingertips. She inspected them as she sauntered away.

"People keep nickin' my sausage rolls, see," she lamented, to a resounding silence, and arrived back at her station.

Zoning back in, she fiddled with knobs and buttons until she felt confidently refamiliarised, and set to work inserting the first set of slides into the top of the enlarger; she adjusted the size and position, then happily lined up a sheet of paper under the projection, ready to print. She began to feel quite relaxed. The darkroom disoriented her at first, but the ambience of the low light, the gentle hum of electricity, and the soothing, aquarium murmur of the waterbath brought her peace.

She couldn't get too comfortable, because just as she was about to slide away the red filter and expose her paper to white light, Sofia broke the silence once more.

"Is it in focus?"

She was back at her own station, just a few paces to Nell's right, and poked her head around at her classmate's hasty setup.

"Huh?" Nell replied astutely.

"Your slide, is it in focus?"

Before she could protest, Sofia had already floated into her personal space, holding what looked like a little microscope.

"Is this Charles' work?" she interrogated, more than asked.

"I'm doin' him a favour."

Sofia hummed in response.

"Interesting," she muttered, in a way that made Nell wonder why it was interesting at all. "The paper's upside down."

Nell cringed at Sofia's blunt observation, and shamefully flipped it right-side-up, the shiny, light-sensitive layer revealing itself. The shorter woman leant over the paper, placing down her little tool and scrutinising it through the lens.

"It's not in focus. It's blurry," she confirmed, and twisted a little knob around in minute adjustments. For all her proud independence, Sofia was certainly a busybody.

"There. Look now," she ordered, and Nell peered through the little magnifier the same way her classmate did. She saw crisp shapes, the finest grains of the film emulsion. Not really caring, she stood up straight and attempted to shove the tool back in Sofia's direction.

"Right. Thank you. I can get on with it now, if that's alright," she dismissed, eager to be left alone, but Sofia was occupied by squinting at the numbers lit-up on Nell's equipment.

"You're going to overexpose this, surely?"

Nell sighed and shrugged, not really sure how to respond.

"Give me that," Sofia gestured at the contact sheet, somehow making it sound polite. Nell surrendered it reluctantly, and she scanned the digits Charles had scrawled.

"He's written them down, and everything, it's right here," Sofia uttered with confusion. It made Nell feel stupid. There's no reason why she should know what those numbers mean.

"They're his photos, I don't know why you care."

"If you're doing a favour, do it properly. I'll set the ISO and exposure for you, and you can print the rest," she announced decisively.

Nell threw her hands up, because she knew saying 'whatever,' out loud would earn her a nasty glare. She watched as Sofia turned a numbered wheel at the top of the enlarger. The image below got dimmer. She then adjusted the little control panel on the desk, decreasing a digital countdown timer from twelve seconds to four.

"There."

Nell mumbled an ungrateful thank-you, but it was clear Sofia didn't really care whether her help was appreciated or not. She was already busying herself on a different enlarger, once again consumed by her own work.

Turning back to the paper in front of her, Nell decided to just get on with it. She turned the projection off, removed the filter, and pressed a button, and it came back on in pure, gentle, white light. After four seconds it automatically shut back off with a pleasing click, and Nell whisked away the paper, satisfied.

Both students approached the basins with a piece of paper each. The station was a metal rectangle that jutted out at least ten feet from the wall, and was divided into three sections - two long, shallow troughs than ran side-by-side, and the waterbath, which took up the outermost end. The two dry areas had three labeled trays in them each, likely leftover from a workshop, and a tap and drain against the wall. There were pairs of metal tongs in each tray. A handy glow-in-the-dark clock overlooked it all, second hand turning, and a poster listing development times was displayed alongside. Sofia submerged her paper into the first tray, opposite of Nell, checked the clock, and began to tilt the liquid back and forth. Nell did the same, into the tray labeled 'DEV' - she was to leave it in there for sixty seconds, according to the poster. As time ticked by, she watched the magic happen before her very eyes. Under the shimmering reflections of overhead light, the paper at once went from pure white, to clouded with faint grey, to painted with deep, varied tones as the image shyly revealed itself.

"Holy shit," she muttered to herself in awe, and Sofia concealed a genuine smile.

Sixty seconds passed, and they transferred their prints to the trays labeled 'STOP'.

"Yours is dripping everywhere, let the developer drain off a little first. You'll dilute the other trays," Sofia nitpicked.

"Yeah, yeah."

Ten seconds passed in the stop-bath, and Nell scooped the photo up between the tongs.

"Try it this time, don't make such a mess."

Nell rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, and transferred the paper neatly to the final, stronger-smelling tray, labeled 'FIX'. Two minutes would pass in this one, and they passed without words. Sometimes Nell would glance up at Sofia, watching her waiting, and sometimes Sofia would glance back. It didn't really feel as awkward as it should have. Nell lost track of the clock, and snapped back to the task when Sofia moved hers into the wash. They mirrored each others' actions the whole way through. Nell drained hers properly before plunging it in, and they stood at the end of the station, looming over the inky water. Both prints spiralled around in the current amongst other unclaimed pieces.

Nell's (or, Charles') photograph had come out beautifully. The scribbled numbers were correct, and Sofia had adjusted the settings perfectly - the image appeared in sharp focus, with intense tones and exact contrast. She felt a subtle buzz of relief that she might not fuck up the entire batch for him.

The constant water flow babbled over the silence. They lingered there, watching the intricate, mottled images as they somehow contained themselves into neat little squares and swam hypnotically through the blackness. Sofia looked down at them fondly, before delicately rolling up her sleeves and dipping her hand in. The nebulous reflections on the water's surface scattered at her touch. Nell had a feeling that she might react similarly, in its place; Sofia's hands were fine, but agile, and professional in everything they did; they were tools of creation, or magic, or whatever you wanted to call it, and they were at work. She fished out her newest piece, after dragging it to and fro a couple of times under the surface to ensure the chemicals were washed away. Nell instinctually copied her, and the cold water felt good as it swallowed up to her wrist. Her own hands seemed rough and clumsy in comparison. Sofia made a habitat out of the lab; she belonged there, she suited it, in all her witchy, gossamer mystique. They were symbiotic. The woman's probably got night vision.

They inspected the prints together. Some kind of wispy double-exposure shimmered between Sofia's finger and thumb. Nell saw a drapey figure, barely there, disappearing into itself amongst the various other ethereal shapes. Most of it looked like fabric, a spectral veneer of some sort that gathered and stretched, and it glowed. A light source - a flame, maybe - made its way up the composition. The black space was minimal, but it located the subjects in an otherworldly, all-consuming nighttime.

Nell clutched a nonspecifically historical-looking portrait of Charles. Half of his monotone, made-up face was hidden by both a large, ornate fan - cradled in a silk white glove - and the shoulder of an absolutely huge velvet coat, the texture of which had been captured in soft, minute detail. Embroidery, feather trims, buttons, novelty seams, decorative tassels and lace all made for a display of delightfully handcrafted camp. His mouth was hidden, but his eyes smiled coyly at the camera - there was no trace of satire in his expression, or his pose. He might have been in character. He was elegant, feminine, sincere, and squinting in a manner she could recognise anywhere, from behind any outfit - for all of his elaborate, transformative costumes - to Nell, Charlie was distinct.

"He looks quite pretty," Sofia remarked. Nell smiled back at him.

"Yeah, he'll be thrilled to bits with these."

She looked back over at Sofia's work, struggling to find words for the deep, vague mourning - the intense feeling that she is missing something, that an opportunity has been left behind, that the past is running away from her faster than she can catch up with the future - that the picture brought onto her. Water trickled down her forearm and sank into her t-shirt.

"What's, um, your project about?" she asked, rather plainly.

Sofia's eyes flicked between Nell and the photograph, then tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I'm interested in impossible things."

Nell wasn't sure what she as expecting, but the answer intrigued her.

Sofia continued - "Imagine going back in time three hundred years, and showing this to someone. They wouldn't believe it. I can barely believe it. I'm interested in what we don't believe in - the supernatural, if you can call it that. Three hundred years ago, they would hang me for witchcraft, because they wouldn't believe this to be possible without witchcraft." She laughed, even at this morbid thought, without sarcasm; Nell couldn't help but smile at the usually no-nonsense woman's passionate affection for her work.

"I like the idea of comparing traditionally inexplicable myth and legend to the mysteries we've now since solved, and the technology we have today. We're always trying to rationalize things - I mean, analogue photography itself: we can study chemical reactions all we want. We can explain it and write research on it 'til our brains melt. It will never become simple, or dull, or earthly. Just because we understand it doesn't mean it isn't magic."

She looked up at Nell, in a genuine search for connection. She spoke every word like it meant the world, and to her, it really did.

"People can get focused on the most efficient way to get the most predictable end result. They look for corners to cut, control, replicability - making these reactions happen by hand is the antithesis of that. They treat it like a dead art. I love the process. I need the magic."

The whimsy her words held was like nothing Nell ever would have expected from Sofia Blancheford. She watched as those glittery eyes drifted gently back down to the print. Her hands and face were hazy and velvet in the crimson glow of the safelight; there was a mole under her lower lip. A halo of downy black hair incandesced in a similar hue above her head. Nell realised she must have been staring, and felt her own face turn a deep scarlet to match the party - she hoped it camouflaged well. She cleared her throat.

"Well, you're very smart, and the pictures are really good. I hope you write all that down. Very handy for evaluation."

Sofia smiled at her shyly, appreciating even the bluntest of praise. Nell dunked her print back into the cold water.

"I'd better do the rest of these bad boys. Thanks for fixing my stuff."

With that, she turned away briskly and attended to her station. The time passed rather smoothly after that - Nell fell into a peaceful, focused rhythm of work, and Sofia nursed her own creations a couple of enlargers away. Every so often, Nell would crack a joke into the comfortable silence, and Sofia would either ignore her, or crack a funnier one back. If she ever actually laughed, she did it very quietly. To begin with, the company was disappointing at best, and intrusive at worst, but now Nell found herself feeling content to work alongside Sofia - that was, when she wasn't being told off for something inconsequential. Gradually, she hated Charles less and less for getting in trouble and putting her into this situation.

There were around a dozen chosen photos he had circled, and each one was a treat, so it didn't feel like much work at all. He wanted to work in theatre, making costumes and puppets and the like, and his portfolio agreed with him - in the second, he wore a bandit's mask around his eyes, an excessively feathered hat, and a very meek pencil moustache.

In another, he wore a huge, cascading cloak of some sort, patched and quilted and embroidered with dozens of images, flora and fauna and people - a testament to his patience, it seemed. He looked away from the camera, and the garment took up most of the image. It was more of a textile artwork than a functional costume.

Someone lay on the ground in a landscape composition, crowded with faux-fur and other heavy textural materials. It could have been Charles under there, but it was impossible to tell. From the shoulders up, they were obscured by a large sculptural boar's head; it was papier-mâché - Nell had seen it before. It lay there as if dead; it was weathered and off-putting, but Nell's favourite of the bunch. Its monstrous nature, and the ambiguity of the wearer underneath, recalled ritual folk costumes depicting spirits and the like, blurring the line between man and beast. Things like this had interested her for a while. She supposed it wasn't all too different from Sofia's proposal - a deep fascination with the far-fetched - realizing all the wild, inconceivable stories that people must see to believe, and once they believe, they go in terror of.

"Very interesting work," came a voice in her ear.

Nell almost leapt out of her skin when she noticed Sofia peering at the photos from over her shoulder. She hovered like a phantom, wispy hair brushing against Nell's cheek; she didn't seem to care a bit that she had almost stopped the taller woman's heart, and just frowned at her.

"No need to be jumpy. There are only a few vengeful ghosts living down here."

Breezing behind Nell with a dry tray in her arms, she began fishing out the other prints floating about.

"I don't know why you decided to help with Charlie's stuff, if you're so annoyed with him."

Sofia cocked her head innocently. "Why would I be annoyed with him?"

The rather cutthroat photographer wasn't one to hide a grudge, and Nell wondered if she had gotten the story mixed up. Before she could ask any further into it, Sofia gestured to the small pile of wet papers.

"I take it you're all finished? Are you coming to dry them off?"

"Yeah, alright, don't rush me," Nell replied, and deposited her handiwork into Sofia's tray, who waited impatiently by the door for her protégé to gather her other belongings.

"Thanking you kindly," Nell bowed as she passed through the first door that Sofia held open considerately, but was called back with a sharp, "Wait," quicker she could rush to open the second, risking flooding daylight into their little liminal realm.

"Always wait for this door to shut. You could ruin someone's work. It's also why you knock," Sofia ordered.

"Right, wonderful. Well, to my knowledge, literally nobody is in there. Unless they've been extremely quiet."

"It's about the habit," she insisted. By now, the interior door had long since shut and they were arguing in pitch black. Nell didn't care to stay longer than she needed. She swung open the entrance to the lightroom and squinted at the sudden contrast.

"Christ alive, it's like coming out of a casket."

She turned to see Sofia emerging from the gloom - dressed in practically mourning clothes, long hair matching the tone, face as pale as a vampire.

"Explains a lot, actually."

Sofia looked up from the tray, not listening.

"What?"

"What are we up to, then?" Nell diverted, coming to stand annoyingly close to the other artist's side. She hadn't yet seen her under proper light that day, away from the dreamy veil of the laboratory, and gave her a once-over. She wore black, corduroy trousers, that flared slightly over equally black, practical boots. In a tasteful shade of very dark charcoal, she wore a thin, long-sleeved black top that came up high on her throat. The bright blue lanyard almost spoiled it. You'd think she was trying to camouflage in there. No wonder I knocked into her, Nell thought, wear a bloody hi-vis next time.

Sofia didn't care enough to budge, and instead handed Nell a small stack of prints.

"Peg these up, for now."

She turned on a rather loud drying machine and began to feed some photos through; Nell turned to the basins, where strings were suspended wildly from above like vines. They fell into another comfortable silence, facing opposite walls, and the clock ticked closer to the end of the day.

Eventually, Sofia turned the machine off (its absence was noticeable), and she came to busy herself alongside her classmate with a few contact strips that were too small to go through. After a minute, she glanced over at the taller woman, diligently working, and turned thoughtfully to face her.

"You've got a striking side profile," she casually commented. She reached up to Nell's jaw in her fingers and tilt it for a better view.

Nell felt her insides scattering and turning over themselves, like those silvery reflections in the waterbath. She was taken by surprise, but barely thought twice about letting the smaller woman pose her around like a show pony - before she came to her senses and batted the hand away.

"Buy me a drink first, yeah?"

Sofia didn't dignify her with a laugh.

"I don't do many portraits, but I should have you model for me."

She didn't really phrase it like a question. That was the thing about Sofia - she didn't need to speak in hypotheticals. She had that sure-of-herself, naturally commanding presence that seemed to come with being a bit posh.

"Not in a million years, sweetheart."

"I remember when Charlie swindled you into it. You're a bit of a natural. I'd put my own spin you," she reasoned, as if it were an offer she couldn't refuse.

Nell remembered that shoot too, from a few months ago, though fuzzily - it gave her feelings, ones she couldn't place. Sofia was there, to help with the setup, and so was fashion student Polly, as another model. The work was fantastic, but for all of Nell's can-do attitude and brash personality, she was implausibly camera-shy.

"I owed him, again."

"Then I'll have to find you in my debt, somehow."

Again, it came with being posh - but Sofia's intonation did make it sound slightly flirtatious. Nell stood her ground.

"Not happening."

Sofia placed her hands on her hips thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes at her stubborn classmate.

"I have given you my time this afternoon."

"I never asked you to. And that weren't for my benefit, it were for Charlie's."

"I could just as easily have left you to figure it out on your own. You'd have been here 'til dusk."

She raised an eyebrow. Nell squirmed under Sofia's persuasive gaze.

"Let me pick my clothes," she bargained, "And I'll think about considering it."

She held out a handshake, which Sofia suspiciously, hesitantly, reached for. A mistake - Nell, like obnoxious lightning, yanked it out of the way and ran a hand through her hair instead. It was an admittedly smooth execution. She sucked air through her teeth awkwardly as if it were an accident, and grinned mischievously at Sofia.

"Ooh, I ain't that easy, love. Cheers for the science lesson, though, yeah?"

Sofia did not smile. She very clearly seethed, but spoke calmly as ever.

"You are insufferable."

"Good one. I'll see you around, Sof."

The clock struck four. With a suave wink and click of her teeth, Nell took her folder (and blinding grin) and bounced out of the department door, disappearing out of sight - leaving Sofia alone with a flush of furious embarrassment and the familiar notion that something important had slipped through her fingers.

#renegade nell #nell jackson #sofia wilmot #nellfia #renegade nell fic #fanfic #my writing #nell x sofia #louisa harland #alice kremelberg #renegade nell au

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greencloakedfae · 3 months ago

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I am in such desperate need of more nonbinary nell like her approach to gender is so familiar as an agender person ahhhh looking at my nell character study wip but also the urge for a modern au oneshot,,, giving her a binder,,, they/them,,, or any pronouns,,, i feel feral about it

#renegade nell #nell jackson #i cherish the fics that explore Nell's gender so dearly if you've written one just know I would offer u a big smooch in thanks

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zephzephyrus · 8 months ago

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the absolute rollercoaster of emotions i am being put through rn reading @czechtex latest chapter for “the long engagement” is bonkers. i have had to stop minimum three times to get my bearings cause oh my god???? shits goin down???? if y’all have t read it yet please read it, it’s so good i’m quite literally on the edge of my seat. i aspire to be able to write that well an absolutely send my readers through the wringer cause DAMN.

#renegade nell #renegade nell fanfic #the gasp i gusped #had to talk it through with myself #one of the best fics i’ve ever read #cannot wait for the next update

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the-record · 9 months ago

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YOU GOT ALL MY LOVE

renegade nell masterlist !

requests are open 🫶 sfw only !

🌾 fic!

⚔️ drabble!

🌿 headcanon!

nell jackson:

🌾 all my love

🌾 forever

🌾 you’re gonna go far

#! kates babes !#nell jackson x reader #nelly jackson x reader

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martianbugsbunny · 8 months ago

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He Waits By The Riverside (A Bad Batch Fic)

*approaches in a swan paddleboat* so I cried myself to sleep last night about the fact that Tech is actually dead, hence the need for a boat. I'm living in a lake of my own tears at this point. I didn't cry for him properly when he died because I had hope that he wasn't really dead after all and now it's hitting so hard, especially because he's the only one who didn't get to grow old. My chest gets tight when I think about how horribly unfair that seems. So I wrote a fic to put that sadness somewhere, inspired by He Waits, By The Riverside from Renegade Nell. I tried my hardest to make the fic feel the same way the song does (absolutely heartbreaking in a way that holds your hand) and honestly I think I did a pretty good job. So read on and enjoy (?)

Tech opened his eyes. His goggles were gone—his sight was acceptable without them, but he couldn’t see the more precise details of the landscape surrounding him. One was thing was certain, though: it wasn’t what he had been expecting when he plummeted, heart stopped, chest tight, through the clouds.

“Welcome, beloved,” a voice said. Not the gravelly voice of his sergeant, or Wrecker’s warm one, or Omega’s enthusiastic chirp, or Echo’s soft laugh—not even Crosshair’s pinched tone. It was the sort of voice that seemed like the wind, drifting out in one instant and fading away in the next, with no single pitch or volume but constantly shifting, shifting, shifting like the fog Tech had fallen through. Wind itself, however, was absent from the surroundings, not even a breath of it stirring.

Tech looked around, sitting up, searching for the voice’s owner. There was a pounding in his ears, either his heart or a far-off drum; he couldn’t decipher which, or even which made more sense in his current context.

The first thing he noticed properly was, at his feet, a mass of water that was not quite a river. It was long and gently curving into the distance like a river, and he estimated it was about five feet wide, but it didn’t flow. It was utterly still, just as the air was. It was unnatural, and yet somehow, it didn’t fill him with the creeping dread that perhaps it should have.

“You’ve come later than I expected,” the voice said. “Many of your kind joined me much sooner.”

Tears were blurring Tech's vision a little more, although he didn’t know why. A bird with a lilting song—one he could identify after a moment as a Yavin nightingale—was singing in the distance. Fish glittered vaguely in the river that didn’t flow past his feet, sunlight pouring down around them like rain.

That wasn’t right. The sunlight shouldn’t reach down here.

“Sooner than I hoped.”

The bird continued to sing, sweetly, brightly.

There were no bulrushes growing on the not-river banks, allowing Tech an unobstructed view of the creatures thrashing in the reflective water, scales aglow in the light that shouldn't have cut through the clouds. He couldn't bring himself to look up and see if there actually were any now.

“Ah, well.”

The sweet song was becoming a monotonous drone as it went endlessly, unhesitatingly, on. The fish in their sparkling glory were flames in Tech’s slightly unclear vision, kicking up sand from the bottom of the riverbed that drifted around them as the fog had about him. The reed grasses beneath him rustled as he got to his feet and turned his face to the cloudless grey sky.

He knew why he was crying.

A creature stood on the opposite bank, sheathed in a long white robe, bare-footed, with its face invisible except for a peculiarly unreadable grin made of white teeth and red lips. “Join me, love,” it said.

He knew why he was crying.

For a moment, there was a phantom pain across his body, the immense impact of sharp stones after a long fall. Another tear slipped down his bare face, and he knew he had succeeded. They were all safe: Hunter with his wide heart, Wrecker and his brilliant smile, Omega with her endless hope, Echo for his new purpose, maybe even Crosshair despite his mercurial loyalties.

He knew why he was crying.

“Do I have to?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. This one time, he wished logic would fail to hold, and he could be released to rejoin the family he had made safe. To enjoy the fruits of his final and hardest labor.

“All that is loved becomes mine eventually,” it said. “You have been loved.”

Tech sobbed.

As the creature compelled him on, softly playing a military tune on an ebony fiddle and urging with its strange and sighing voice, Tech stepped into the river and crossed over to the other side.

….

In the still water—there were no fish to be seen from this angle—he could see them, by turns, running from the Empire, running towards the Empire, doing the best they could to keep their broken family from rifting any further, trying to mend it as best they could. It ached to watch, knowing they could never be truly whole again now that he was gone. Knowing that they were becoming more whole by the day, however, as Omega brought Crosshair back to them, and that he had sacrificed not only his life, but also his chance to be part of a reunited family.

Their lives continued to be dangerous, and every so often he would glance across the water, afraid he would see Hunter or Wrecker there and that the family on his side of the river would become more whole while that on the other side became more fractured and grief-stricken. He had a world without end. It hurt, but he would rather wait until the others were all old to hold them again. He didn’t want them to die young like he did, even if it meant sitting alone beside the water for another hundred years.

So Tech sat there, on the other side, and sang, slightly off-key, as though he could warn them, as though they could hear him, as though he could put off their final reunion for longer if only he was as determined as the nightingale that he could no longer hear.

“He waits by the riverside, and he waits by the road; he’ll play you his drum and the fiddle he’ll bow. So caution yourself—beware of his tongue.

“Cause all that is loved….”

Can crumble to none.

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arya-skywalker · 5 months ago

Text

Fae and Fate (Renegade Nell fic)

Summary: A look into Billy Blind’s mind leading up to his decision to introduce himself, and a slight variation on the scene itself.

Notes: Dipping my toes into the fandom with a little character study thing. Some canon dialogue, some lines tweaked or added. Technically more canon adjacent with the main difference being that Billy is slightly less stupid and slightly more fae, but events continue in roughly the same way.

AO3 link

Billy Blind knew two things: that humans were fragile but wonderful creatures, and that he had magic they didn’t. His powers came from light, from laughter and love, from all that was good and right. He could imbue a chosen human with strength and agility beyond their wildest dreams— but only for protection, never for personal gain. He could change his size and appearance, become invisible or intangible at will. He could see brief glimpses into the future— warnings of approaching danger or a sense that someone would do great things— but his past was lost to him.

Sometimes he’d hear a whisper of song, a long-forgotten tune that tugged at his heartstrings and filled him with longing. Something beyond mortal senses, something that was no longer his. Mushroom circles reminded him of a home he could scarcely remember; a doorway locked and barred, unable to be seen but there all the same.

When Billy first set eyes on Nell Jackson, he knew with every fiber of his being that fate had brought them together for a reason. She would be his human, his chosen vessel, his connection to the mortal realm. She was strong, stronger than she knew— not only in body, but in heart and spirit and mind. She stood up for herself and others.

It didn’t take long for Billy to realize she was maddeningly unpredictable as well. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, no, it kept things exciting! But still, it meant he had to adapt. He couldn’t make a proper deal, no, she jumped straight into danger before he could consider saying a word, and well now he had to protect her, didn’t he? So he did. That time, and the next, and the next, and blimey did she end up in danger rather often!

~*~

Billy watched from a distance as Nell returned home. She should be safe now, theoretically, but he still didn’t want to leave her. There was more to the story, their tale was not yet complete.

He learned that she had family, two younger sisters and a father. Everyone in town suspected she had died in the war with her husband. If Billy hadn’t intervened, she likely would have. Wars were terrible things. The local lord’s son had been wreaking havoc on her home town— which meant she wasn’t safe here after all and she still needed Billy’s protection. All the more reason to stay, at least a little while longer.

Billy respectfully did not watch as Nell went through her wardrobe transformation, but still he kept an ear out just in case. The sisters were catching up with each other; the subject moved to Nell’s late husband.

“I do miss him a bit. Except I don’t think he’s left me, even if he is dead,” Nell said. “It’s like today, I got held up by these highwaymen. And one of them hit me. And it’s like… I don’t know, something happens to me inside and… you should see me. I’m untouchable.”

Oh no. No, no, no! That wasn’t what he meant! Billy didn’t even know her late husband— or if he did he couldn’t remember. Perhaps the man’s death had somehow drawn Billy to her, but even if so, they weren’t the same person. Billy most certainly was no ghost, he was a fairy. Keeping up this ruse would be a lie. That wasn’t right.

He had to tell her the truth, somehow. When the time was right.

~*~

Billy watched as Nell made a fool of herself, wincing as that lord’s son threw her around like a sack of potatoes. But there were rules. She started it. She could stand to take a few punches. She had to learn a lesson in caution; throwing herself recklessly into danger expecting him to save her wouldn’t do. He wouldn’t always bail her out of situations she willingly got herself into. His powers were a special gift, not something to be wasted on petty quarrels.

There was a limit.

If her life was threatened, he could step in. If the lives of those she cared about were threatened, he could step in. If she was in danger of permanent injury, he could step in.

The whip was danger enough. One lash he let slip, seeing it would barely graze her cheek.

Then he shrunk into a speck of light and dove into her, filling her lungs and veins with his power. It was invigorating, disorienting, fulfilling. Time slowed around them. He felt her every move, her every emotion. They were one.

Her righteous fury filled him as his powers fueled her. A dangerous thing, that. But she got her revenge, and he protected her.

As soon as it was clear she and her family were safe, he withdrew and flew off, giving her some space and taking some time to think.

~*~

Now, the question was how? How could he reveal himself and get her to listen to a word he said?

He could try passing as a human. A simple glamor. The right size and shape as a normal man, nothing out of the ordinary. Say how he wanted to help, ask her opinion on magic, ease her into the reveal. That sort of thing.

But then again she had a habit of attacking anyone who frightened her or even looked at her the wrong way. That might be an issue.

He could try writing a note, explaining everything in detail and leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Except he knew she couldn’t read, and anyone who did read it would think it madness. Humans generally had difficulty believing in anything magical in nature, which was the whole problem to begin with.

Or he could just show up as himself and hope for the best. Put precautions in place so she wouldn’t hurt herself trying to fight him. Sometimes the simplest solution was most effective.

Right. Billy had to reveal himself. It had gone on long enough. He waited until they were alone in the middle of the night, less likely to be overheard.

“Nell. Nelly,” he whispered. When she barely acknowledged him, he shouted, “Nelly Jackson!” There, finally she moved!

“D-don’t scream,” he warned, then internally kicked himself. That was a foolish thing to start with. But he continued, “You need to look up.”

She opened her eyes, scanning the room, until finally she looked straight at him, eyes wide in shock. She saw him! Good. This was good.

“Oh, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure out the best way to introduce myself without giving you a shock, Nelly Jackson,” Billy said. “Frankly, there isn’t one! Of course, it isn’t absolutely necessary that I should introduce myself.”

He stood on the beam, doing his best to appear more confident. “But in your case, I had a sneaking suspicion it might crop up sooner rather than later.” He flew towards her, slowly and cautiously.

Of course she immediately drew a pistol on him. Luckily he had prepared for that.

“So three things. One, I’m on your side. Two, that is not loaded.” He pointed to the gun. “And three, it won’t have any effect on me even if it was, for I am non-corporeal!” He did a little bow for effect.

“What do you mean you’re on my side?” Nell demanded. She didn’t lower the gun.

Clearly, words weren’t enough. Billy sighed. “Look at me,” he said, making sure she made eye contact before diving in and briefly sharing his powers. Just long enough for her to feel and acknowledge it, assuage her fears.

Then he flew out again and did a flip in midair. “I protect you!”

Nell stared at him, still wary, still holding the gun. “Why?”

“Because you are a very special person, Nell Jackson, and we will do great things together,” he said, believing every word and hoping she would too.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I do, actually,” Billy countered. “I’ve been watching you. And I have the gift of foresight, a strong intuition and an excellent judge of character.”

Nell scoffed. “Watching me, have you?”

“A bit hard to protect you if I’m not around, yeah? I know you have a good heart, you’re brave, you stand up for the right things. Those are all good signs.”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me.”

“No, you didn’t. But you like it, don’t you? The power. I heard you boasting about being untouchable— and that’s not entirely true.”

Ah, there, now he truly had her attention! She wavered, more curious than wary now. Good. “Feels untouchable, that power,” she said. “There some catch?”

Billy nodded. “The more immediate point is this: I can only protect you, Nelly Jackson. I will not take part in random acts of violence.” He landed on the pistol and walked across it.

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Like earlier this evening,” Billy clarified.

“What? He’s a bully! He’s an arrogant lout, and he hurts people,” Nell protested.

“Be that as it may, he didn’t start anything. You did.”

“No, he was gonna!”

Billy shook his head. “Ain’t the point. It was an unnecessary risk, egging him on like that. You knew he’d lash out, and you expected me to enhance your abilities. You can’t rely on it, Nelly. My powers are a gift. I chose to give them to you, and I can choose when not to.”

“No, wait. You mean you let him whoop me about and you could have stopped it?!”

“I did stop it.”

“Not sooner!” Nell shouted. “Like when he was grinding my face in the mud!”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Thank goodness! Something to distract her from her anger. This was not going to plan. Not at all.

Nell glanced at the door, then back at him. “Who sent you? Where are you from? Look at you. What are you dressed as?”

That was a lot of questions. Most of which he hadn’t the foggiest clue of. And that last one was just plain insulting. He liked his clothes, thank you very much.

Before he could reply, the knock continued. Nell shot him a warning look and a “wait right there” and went to answer it. After a few steps, she paused and glanced back at him. “What’s your name? I mean, do you got one?”

It was time to give his name, to complete the bond and give himself fully. This was his best chance, a way to save this mess of a conversation. He took a breath and smiled.

“Yeah. Billy. Billy Blind. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Nell Jackson, and I look forward to what we can achieve together.” There, done! He felt a warmth in his chest as the bond sealed. He was her fairy, and she was his human. It was all official now, even if they took a roundabout route to get there.

“I’ll catch you later.” With a wink and a clap, he turned into a spark and flew off before she could ask any further questions.

#aryaskywalker writes #renegade nell #renegade nell fanfic #billy blind #nell jackson #character study

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