#there are so many authority figures in horizon that are terrible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

summoner-starlight · 2 years ago

Text

Among Heroes

Just as an author's note: this isn't canon. I just needed a way to get through the fact that Johanna is having a really rough time right now so her character bleed doesn't ruin my life thanks.

---

“I think it’s important to remember why you started hero-ing in the first place,” Sherwood says, tossing his line out into the water. “Helps put things back into perspective when they get like this.”

Johanna kicks her legs over the edge. “Well, I never sought out to do any hero-ing. Perhaps that’s the problem; I’m working a job I was never cut out for.” She fiddles with her Paladin’s crest.

“I don’t know about that. But if you never sought to be a hero, how did you get here?”

“It’s a bit of a long story…I’m not terribly sure you’d find any interest in it.”

“My lady, there is nothing quite as good as a long story. Please, indulge me.” He gives her his trademark smile before fumbling the rod, nearly dropping it.

She laughs. “Alright.”

---

My Mother left me with my Father and the Rothgimil when I was still a baby. She vanished after that, though her memory would live on forever. I was celebrated on the ship, as all children were, and raised in a deeply caring environment. My family had incredible patience for my shenanigans once I could walk and talk. I had a bit of a habit of getting myself into trouble.

I was deeply curious, very self-confident, and absolutely hated being told I couldn’t do something without the best of explanations as to why. My family tried all manner of things to keep me out of trouble, but I was too stubborn for most of them. My father learned it was best to let me make my own decisions, while keeping an eye out from a distance. He taught me how important it was that a child be able to make their own mistakes.

I met my best friend, who later would become my wife during one of these indicents.

---

Sherwood laughs. “An excellent start. You know, I was something of a troublemaker myself.”

“Forgive me for such a quick judgement, but I figured that may be the case.” She giggles as he feigns insult.

“So, what, your troublemaking lead you to trying to use your powers for good?”

“Well, as a child what I really wanted was to become a Ship Mother.” She pauses at the confused look on his face. “Ship Mothers are Captains, I suppose, but more than that they’re in charge of taking care of everyone emotionally and physically. They offer guidance and make important decisions and work to ensure the ship operates harmoniously.”

Sherwood nods, impressed. “I don’t know enough about sailing to say much here, but being a parent of any sort is a noble pursuit.”

“I admired my own Ship Mother so much, I wanted to be just like her: if not for the Rothgimil, then for my own ship, maybe.” Johanna looks wistfully out to the horizon.

There’s a tug on Sherwood’s line. He reels it in with some difficulty only to find a rather small fish on the end of it. Johanna giggles. Sherwood shakes his head, carefully unhooks the fish, and tosses it back into the water before attempting to re-bait his hook. “So…what happened?” he finally asks.

“Well…”

---

Living on a ship, my family told many stories to help the time pass while we were all together. Among the tales of adventure through The Great Storm, scary stories of Drownies and ghost ships, and many a grand tale of Leviathan, were stories about my Mother.

She was a wonder all her own to the Rothgimil; the woman who, from the moment she arrived, captured everyone’s hearts. She was only with us for a short while, but she managed to become quite the legend among the crew. She even befriended the Naga despite being a human. Everyone spoke so sweetly of her, I decided I had to try meeting her for myself.

So, starting when I was eight years old, I took the opportunity when we docked to try and find her. I never had long, and I never left the towns we docked in, but I tried.

---

“Forgive me,” Sherwood interrupts, “but were you not angry that your Mother left?”

Johanna shakes her head. “I never had any reason to. I was…envious, sometimes, that she was supposedly my Mother but I was the only one without a story to tell but I had no reason to be angry with her. She left me with a family that loved me more than anything in the world and that was enough.” She cocks her head at him. “This sounds like a personal question.”

“You got me,” he replies. “My Father left when I was very young. Or…that is what I always thought. My Mother worked very hard after that to take care of me. We didn’t have much growing up and she always seemed so tired. I decided I hated him for that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Johanna says, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sherwood smiles and waves her off. “All in the past,” he says. “Anyway, forgive my interruption. Did you ever find her?”

“No…well…not exactly, but we’ll get to that later. I did find something else, however.”

---

On my first search, I met a man from the Church of Life. He gave me a token and said if I ever needed help, with this or otherwise I could always turn to the Church. I didn’t know much about the land at the time. I learned later that he had been keeping an eye on me because some children had gone missing some time earlier and he feared some scoundrels would try to take advantage of a young girl alone in an unfamiliar city.

I did, eventually seek out the Church. They didn’t know about my Mother, but they welcomed me in and told me they would keep their eyes open. They let me borrow books and fed me snacks; it felt like being at home. I made an effort every time we docked to visit and ask questions and spend time with the other children I had met. Eventually I stopped going in the search for my mother and started going just to read and learn alongside the other kids.

I was twelve when I learned what an orphan was. I didn’t know that parents would abandon their children with no one to care for them. I mean, I knew on some level; there are plenty of us on the Sea that were born elsewhere under different parents, but on a ship you are always family. You don’t think much of it in my experience.

For many of those children, the Church was the only family they had and for some, the only family they would ever have. It was comforting that there was an organization determined to care for those who had been left behind, but devastating that it was happening at all. That was when I decided to start Acolyte training.

---

Sherwood casts his line back into the water. “So you took your compassion for others and channeled it into being a Sister of the Church, rather than as a Ship Mother.”

Johanna nod. “I wanted to help and take care of people. It would have taken me years to become a Ship Mother. If I was still after that now, I could still be waiting. But as a Sister, I could take care of people who really needed it right away.”

“It must have been hard to leave your family behind.”

“Oh, well. I trained when I could but I continued to sail with my family until I turned eighteen. That helped ease the transition…mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Well…Daza, my best friend? The Naga?” She waits for him to nod. “She wasn’t thrilled. We got married right before I left; as a promise that I would be hers and she would be mine no matter how far apart we were. And, I had to promise I would come home to visit. I worked out a system with the Church to stay home over the summers.”

“Oh. That was nice of them.”

“Family is very important to the Church. They didn’t want me to place duty over family any more than Daza did.”

He nods again. “And she couldn’t come with you? I know when I sought my grand adventure, my best friend came along for the ride. She was worried I’d get into trouble.”

“Did you?” Johanna asks with a knowing grin.

“Of course!” They both laugh.

“She had no interest in coming with, and even if she did, Naga don’t do well on land. They’re aquatic creatures. If they go too long without large amounts of water they can die.”

“That complicates things, for sure. But you still haven’t gotten to how you got here yet.”

“Now Sherwood, if I gave you that without any context you’d have too many questions. We’re getting there.”

---

I spent many years working with the Church at the Abbey. I helped take care of the children, as that was one of few ways I could be helpful outside of brute strength. It was such a wonderful and rewarding feeling. I made new friends, helped out the locals, and spent every day making sure the kids ate and learned and slept and grew. As I said before, it felt a lot like being home. I also got into my fair share of trouble. The Church is flexible, but some priests are more so than others. I was banned from the kitchen and faced my fair share of lectures on speaking blasphemy to children. I also got spoken to for working too hard on several occasions.

A few of the other Church members suggested I get into the Paladin program. Between my compassion and my strength they thought I would play the part excellently. I didn’t know if that’s what I wanted. I had never been a warrior. Sister Heartless offered, at the very least, to give me some combat training and asked me to sit in on a few classes. She knew I enjoyed fighting and thought it would be a good way to channel some of my energy. I agreed to that, at least, without the commitment of being a true Paladin.

---

“Why the hesitation? That seems like a great honor.”

Johanna frowns and offers a small shrug. “There are a lot of responsibilities that come with taking on an Oath. I was worried it would take me away from what I loved about being a Sister. I didn’t want honor, I just wanted to take care of people.”

“Do you feel that way now?”

“Honestly? A little, yes. I feel like people expect me to be…a Justicar or something. The job has become all about being the sword…or I guess the spear? Of the Church rather than another gentle caretaker.”

“So…then why go against your judgement and become a Paladin at all?”

---

One day, we heard about a riot that got out of control and the Abbey was asking for volunteers to help with the recovery. I volunteered. What I lacked in magic I made up for in a strong desire to be helpful, my recent combat training (in case things got out of hand again) and my ability to carry very heavy things.

I was shocked at the sight of the place. I have never seen so many dead or such devastation. It was so hard to believe that a world that I had known as being so gentle and good and kind could be equally as cruel. I realized then what a sheltered life I had been living as survivors struggled to pull their shattered lived back together among the wreckage and blood.

More importantly, while I was there I met Eeka. She was a tiny little thing, no older I was sure than my youngest daughters at the time. She had no family to speak of and, worse yet, she had a terrible scar on her cheek; a mark of a thief. Imagine, harming a child over stealing something. She was terrified of us all. She bit a few other Sisters that tried to get too close. I watched as even my Sisters seemed to give up on her.

But I couldn’t. I stuck by and reached out and let her fight back in whatever way she needed to. Eventually, she warmed up to me, and when we were finished with our recovery I asked if I could bring the girl back to the Abbey. I promised I would be responsible for her, I just wanted to give her the best chance. There were arguments, of course. There’s always a risk in relocating a child that they won’t adjust well, but I was as stubborn as ever. So we took her home with us.

That trip triggered so many realizations. The world could be a dangerous place, people could be terribly cruel, and even children were not immune to such things. I thought about my own children and realized that it was no wonder Daza hated this place. There are people in the world who would kill my children solely because they appear different. I hated these truths. I wanted to fix it. I needed to be able to go out into the world and stop this sort of thing from ever happening again.

So I decided to become a Paladin.

---

“Wow…that is way more impressive than my Hero’s Journey,” Sherwood stays, eyes wide as he is stunned by her words. There’s another tug on the fishing pole that catches him off guard. He scrambles to maintain control and reels in the fish; larger than the last, but still not particularly impressive.

“Arguably, that’s not even the real beginning of it. There’s more.”

“More?” Sherwood asks, shocked. He drops the worm he’s holding onto the dock and it wriggles through the space between the boards.

Johanna nods. “But, out of curiosity, how did you get started?”

He shrugs. “My mother introduced me to a book about a famous archer who steals money from the rich and gives to the poor; I decided if I could do that then I could earn enough money to pull my mom out of poverty.”

“That’s it? That’s kind of sweet, though.”

He shrugs again, working another worm onto the hook. “Eh, I also have an issue with Justice and Bravado and impressing women. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not at all mad that I did it but…wow your story just feels like it puts things into perspective.” He laughs, dryly.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s the how or the why that’s really important. The fact that you chose to walk out into the world to make it better for others is what’s important.”

“If that’s true, I feel like you’re not following your own beliefs. Shouldn’t the fact that you’re out here trying to do good be enough?”

She shakes her head again. “No. See…It would be one thing if I had actually done anything good or helpful….but I feel like I keep messing things up.”

“Okay, okay…finish your story.” He says.

---

On some occasions, typically while I was gone for the Summer, the other members of the Church would manage to get Eeka moved to another Orphanage in another Church outside of the Abbey. I always managed to get her back, but this rather frustrating move happened more often than I would have preferred.

One Summer, I returned to find she had been moved to an Orphanage in a little port town called Salt Cove. I was familiar with the town in an abstract sense, it had the poor reputation of being the sort of place where Naga leftovers would wash up. I was on my way to discuss her return with the All Mother when I overheard that there had been an issue at the Orphanage.

A local sister had written expressing her concerns that some children had gone missing, and she suspected they had been kidnapped. I could tell from the discussion that Eeka was likely among them. To make matters worse, the Abbey was going to wait three days before even attempting to send a Paladin.

I was furious, but I also knew I that no amount of arguing was going to get this done faster. So, I stole the note, took a set of armor out of the armory, gathered my most important gear, and left for Salt Cove without so much as a word to anyone.

Once I was nearly there, a bandit snuck up on me and, out of reflex, I stabbed him. That’s when I met my friends and, knowing I would need help, lied about being a Paladin.

---

“Wait, you killed a man and then lied about being a major authority figure in your church?” Sherwood asks. Johanna nods and Sherwood doubles over laughing just as there’s another tug on the line. It slips out of his grasp and falls down into the water below.

“Oh no, you’re fishing pole,” Johanna says. She moves to dive in after it but Sherwood pulls her back.

“It’s alright. I don’t think it will get too far and…I think I’m done anyway.”

“You’re not very good at this.”

“Fishing?”

“No…well….yes. But you’re also not terribly good at making me feel better.”

“Sorry,” he says honestly, putting his hands up. He’s still grinning. “But what you did was the most honest dishonest way to try and help someone. You filled a need you saw wasn’t being met.”

“…I didn’t mean to kill him…” She says sheepishly.

“I figured. You don’t seem the type. But, hey, he attacked you first there’s no need to feel bad for that one.”

The sun was beginning to set, casting orangey hues on the sea and sky.

Sherwood lets the silence settle in for a moment before breaking it again. “Listen, Sister, I think it’s important to remember why you started because it can help you continue on.”

“But I didn’t want to start…”

“I know! I know, but then it sounds like you did want to start. And if you really didn’t want to be doing this, you would have given up well before you took your Oaths. So think about that: why did you start?”

“I…I wanted to make the world a better place for my kids…for all kids. I wanted to be a Ship Mother but…for the world.” She looks down on the fishing rod caught up in some rocks. “I’m doing a terrible job of that…”

Sherwood shakes his head. “First of all, that’s a huge goal. You’re one person, Sister. You’re never going to achieve that.”

“Gee…thanks…”

“More importantly,” he interrupts, giving her a nudge, “when you were talking about growing up what did you say about how your family raised you?”

She thinks on this and, for a moment, becomes rather frustrated when she cannot seem to find the information she thinks Sherwood is looking for. Then, it clicks. “I…was able to make my own decisions while my family kept me from the worst of it.”

“You had to be able to make your own mistakes.”

She shakes her head again and tries not to cry. “No! But that’s different! I was never trying to hurt anyone! I was never trying to end the world!”

“Okay, sure, but even still: you’ll never be able to control everything everyone else does. Sometimes taking care of someone means helping them after things fall apart and they learn their lesson. Just like sometimes it means trying to keep them from getting hurt in the first place.” He places a gentle hand on her shoulder-blade. “Look, Johanna, just like you, people are always going to make their own decisions and choices. You can try to steer them in the right direction, but it is up to them. I get that you want to be proactive, but sometimes we have no choice but to be reactive; and that’s okay.”

She sighs, letting a tear escape but without full on crying. “I just…feel like I’m screwing everything up.”

“Hey, I’m speaking from experience here. I toyed with a villain and when she came back for her revenge she killed my best friend in front of me. Later on, I watched another one kill nearly everyone I cared about while I couldn’t do anything, including the mother of my child.”

“…How in the world did you move on after that?”

“Well…I got really depressed, drank a bunch of alcohol, and then decided maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a hero; but I didn’t have a choice. Luckily, my daughter snapped me out of it. She reminded me of who I was and why I bothered. She reminded me that if I sat around and did nothing then we would all lose, no matter what.” Johanna remains in a contemplative quiet. Sherwood continues, “So, I got back into it. I still struggled to go back to who I was before but I got better…and then, when the odds were against us and I saw the dominos lined up to repeat history I stepped in and did my best to stop it.”

She looks at him, as if waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. He looks out on the sunset and she can see the soft sorrow in his face. In that moment, he’s a mirror of all of her feelings and she feels herself relax at the knowledge that she truly isn’t alone. “…What happened?” she finally asks.

“I dealt the bad guy a blow hard enough to give my team a chance, told my daughter I loved her, and then he killed me.” There’s another long silence before Sherwood says, “I cannot really recommend martyrdom tho.” Johanna looks at him inquisitively and he turns back to her with a smile. “Just because you seem the sort who would do that. It sounds nice on paper, but….it’s a bit rough.”

He laughs and, in the moment, Johanna finds herself laughing too.

#Sister Johanna #drabble #I will continue to use that word incorrectly fite me #Sherwood Forrest #again super not canon #This is DnD Johanna and Exalted Sherwood this conversation isn't even possible

0 notes

laryna6 · 3 years ago

Text

So the Rulers’ like, not even, ‘plan,’ more like ‘hail Mary play that the humans will come up with something that works for their species because fuck if we know how to keep people so squishy alive within 100km of a battlefield’ was basically to toughen up some people enough that they could survive being on the same planet as monsters/the planet Chaos’ usual war and also toss monsters through the gates with those monsters being deliberately brainwashed with ‘kill on sight’ so they didn’t try anything smart/none of the metatactics a war world will come up with that humanity would be completely unprepared for so humans had the chance to like, get some data on/figure out tactics for what was coming.

That was actually something desperate people did before vaccines: give someone a teeny tiny dose of a bacteria/virus so that the immune system had a chance to spot the infection before the numbers in the body ballooned out of control and the immune system couldn’t win. How much/many of a disease you get hit with is a big factor in how deadly it is: early on drs and nurses were getting hit with massive quantities of virii/bacteria from their patients and tended to die if they got sick.

The big problem with the Rulers’ plan is that it teaches the wrong lessons about how to handle monsters. ...but for humans specifically. On their planet it’s just ‘how this works.’

The only way for some of the human race to survive would be for the strongest awakened from all over the world to get together, gather resources/a resource base for themselves only, try to stay out of the way of the war while being tough enough to fend off attacks of opportunity and leave everyone else to die.

While the strategy the gates teach is, scatter the strongest people out in small groups as first responders to the gates to keep monsters from getting at the civilians. And as we see when the invasion hits, this gets the awakened humans who might potentially have been able to preserve the species if they ran instafried instead.

Unfortunately, since the Rulers were designed/programmed to ‘protect the world’ and the one species we know of on their side comes from a single tree and therefore has to protect a location where relatively vulnerable people exist, putting the strongest on the front lines is like. Exactly what they do to handle the monsters. So they’d be teaching humanity the one known effective strategy for handling the monsters with the gates.

The problem is that humans are just too squishy/our population is global, and since ‘there’s only so much power’ is a limiting factor, awakening every single one of billions of people? Makes sense that’s not doable.

So yeah, the one monster-fighting strategy the rulers have is just not going to work for our planet/species, so makes sense that they went ‘we don’t get humans, maybe if we give them info’ without... whatever went so badly to hell in the timeline they made official contact they didn’t try it again, ‘the humans can figure out how to save themselves? I hope so bc we’re out of ideas?’ that ended up working in the form of Sung Jin-Woo.

It’s implied in previous timelines that Ashborn, as a ruler/thinking like one, was also going ‘preserving the humans requires making them less squishy,’ but instead of awakenings the Shadow Monarch going, ‘so convert them into undead who are less squishy/can hide in my shadow’ and went zombie apocalypse. It was probably such a relief for his siblings that instead of pole-vaulting over the Moral Event Horizon by slaughtering the helpless he was actually still trying to save their lives... or undeaths, w/e.

I see a lot of fic where the Rulers get the Dumbledore treatment, the older authority figure who should have like, not sucked? But I really get the impression that they are Doing Their Best but like.

'Asking your parent for help’ is not exactly a high-level problem solving strategy. They were created for ‘laws’ and ‘to fight to protect’ so like. How good at actual thinking are they, because I mean. Ashborn.

Is there anything in the book itself that indicates how old they are? We’ve been treating them as ancient since like, ‘creation time’ for Earth was eons ago, but for all we know ‘the beginning of the world’/when the creator showed up on their planet could have been like. Fifty years ago? Less?

Anyway my picture for the rulers is like ‘newly graduated elementary school teachers have to organize and involve the students to fend off a surprise zombie apocalypse that starts first day on the job’ so like. The shit-ton of grief and PTSD is just going to raise the disaster energy levels that come from having a terrible parent who didn’t raise you at all, let alone teach you coping strats.

#solo leveling #the rulers

60 notes · View notes

hxwks-gf · 4 years ago

Text

─ butterfly, ch 1

pairing: tamaki amajiki x writer!reader

summary: it’s a rainy day, and you see a familiar face in a local bookstore. where have you seen him before?

w/c: 2k

a/n: behold: my second multi-chapter project! i’m hoping it goes smoothly as i’m having so much fun writing it, and i hope you guys enjoy it as well. it’s super fluffy and really wholesome. it’s set about 4-5 years after the big 3 have graduated from UA & u basically fall in love with amajiki all over again

The bell over the door into the bookstore jingled cheerfully as you stepped inside and shook the rain off your umbrella before leaning it against the window. It was warm and cozy inside the bookstore, full of golden, buttery light, but most importantly: it was dry. You set your bag down and shed your coat to hang it up on the rack nearby.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice muffled by the rows and rows of shelves filled with books.

“Is that you, y/n?”

“It’s me!” You peeked around the corner and saw the old woman who owned the shop come hobbling forward. After greeting her with a polite bow, you rubbed your hands together in anticipation. “Did they come?”

“That they did,” she replied, making her way behind the counter. She bent down to fetch something, and appeared a moment later with a stack of books. She patted them and pushed them towards you. “Fresh off the press.”

“You’re a miracle worker,” you said, running a hand over the cover of the book that was at the top of the stack. “How much do I owe you?”

“Bah,” she said, waving her hands. “I’ll just put it on your tab, eh?”

“Mrs. Sakura, I insist,” you said, frowning at her as she stepped down from the counter and started towards the back of the store again.

“You’ll pay me back once you become a best-selling author, right?” she tossed over her shoulder.

Right. That. Suddenly, your laptop felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in your bag. With a sigh, you took the stack of new books and sat down at one of the small tables by the window to start working on your manuscript again. You had been in a slump for months now, unable to further the plot of your novel. As you flipped through the books and scanned over the seemingly endless array of documents on your computer, you almost didn’t hear the bell jingle over the door. A quick glance upwards and you made a note of a mop of indigo hair, but you quickly returned your focus to your computer screen to keep working.

“Ah, you’re back again!” you heard Mrs. Sakura say to whoever just walked in. “I think you’ve read everything I’ve got already, I’ve never seen anyone go through so many books so quickly!”

“It’s okay,” a soft, timid voice replied. “I’d like to read them again, if that’s alright.”

You glanced over the top of your laptop screen again. The back of his head looks familiar, you thought to yourself, your fingers paused over the keyboard. The shade of his hair was an uncommon one; it reminded you of the night sky once the sun had fully disappeared beyond the horizon. That’s a good line, you thought, and you reached for your pen and notepad to scribble it down. Once again, the stranger was forgotten as you became lost in your work.

You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed until Mrs. Sakura came up to your table and set a steaming cup of tea beside you without a word.

“Oh, thank you so much,” you breathed, picking up the cup and softly blowing on the steam. “You’re too kind.”

“And you work too hard,” she chastised, gesturing to your cluttered workstation. “You’re telling me this all makes sense to you?”

“No,” you admitted, taking a sip of tea. “It doesn’t. But there’s a method to the madness, I assure you.”

She grumbled something unintelligible before hobbling away. You stretched your arms above your head and sighed, turning to look out the window at the dreary, grey weather. You watched the raindrops slide along the glass, until noticed the reflection of someone sitting at the table next to yours. You blinked, unable to break your gaze away.

His head was bent gracefully as he balanced a book in his hands, his eyes half-lidded as he languidly scanned the pages before his long, elegant fingers reached up and turned it. His dark, indigo hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes, but he barely seemed to mind. Peeking out of the strands on the side of his head was a long, pointed ear. But it was the way his lips were slightly parted as he read his book that made you continue to stare at the reflection in the window, completely enraptured by him. He looked so familiar to you, though. Where had you seen him before?

“Would you like some tea, dear?” Mrs. Sakura asked him, and you quickly tore your gaze away from the window, almost embarrassed with how long you had been staring.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, still in that soft manner from before. “Thank you very much.”

You squeezed your hands into fists in your lap at the sound of his voice. It was so gentle and soothing, like a cool ocean breeze in the middle of the summer. Another good line, your brain reminded you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him raise the teacup to his lips and take a sip. You wanted to just get back to your work, but curiosity got the better of you and you found yourself slyly sneaking a glance towards him.

He was even more ethereal in person. You admired the strong yet graceful curve of his jaw, your eyes sliding along the length of his neck as it disappeared beneath a black knit sweater.

“You’re not being obvious at all,” Mrs. Sakura suddenly whispered to you as she appeared to retrieve your used teacup.

You blushed furiously and covered your mouth with an awkward hand, turning your face away from him. God, she was right. Here you were, absolutely ogling this complete stranger, with no rational thought in sight. What was wrong with you? You decided you needed to stretch your legs, so you slid from the table and escaped to the shelves to find another book to help you write your novel.

Once out of sight and in the safety of the stacks, you let out a breath of relief and began searching the spines for something useful. Your fingers trailed along the edges of the books, until you found a section that might be of some help─but they paused on an empty space where the book you needed should have been. Disappointed, you dropped your hand.

“I think this one goes there,” that soft, gentle voice sounded from behind you.

You turned around with your mouth open in surprise. The stranger stood just a few feet away from you, holding out a book in his hand. His eyes were the same shade as his hair, and the visualization of the evening sky blossomed in your mind again. A truly extraordinary color. You stared at his face, trying to figure out where you had seen him before. You knew you had seen him before, but it was like someone had covered the memory with a hazy sheet.

“T-thank you,” you finally replied, taking the book from him and studying the cover. It was exactly what you were looking for: The World Encyclopedia of Butterflies and Moths. You looked back up at him. “Were you reading this for fun?”

His eyes widened, the tips of his ears and his cheeks turning pink. “Are you going to make fun of me for it?”

“No!” you said hastily, shaking your head. “I would never, I’m sorry─” You cut yourself off and winced, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was poking fun at you, I really like butterflies─”

He was staring at you now, and you realized you were rambling.

You bit your lip in embarrassment. “Sorry. Thank you for letting me read this─” you gestured to the book, “─and sorry for the terrible first impression.” Before you could humiliate yourself any further, you slipped by him and returned to your seat at the table, trying to hide your heated face.

“Very smooth,” Mrs. Sakura whispered from the counter.

Before you could angrily shush her, the stranger emerged from the stacks with a new book in his hands. You dutifully ignored him as he sat down again, but you could feel his eyes on you as you flipped through the encyclopedia of butterflies.

After some time passed and you had almost forgotten about that awkward encounter, you heard rustling from his table as he stood up and stretched his arms.

“Done for the day?” Mrs. Sakura asked him as he approached the counter, his back to you.

He placed the books he had in his possession in front of her and nodded. “Thank you. Have a good afternoon.”

“You as well,” she said, and both you and she watched him leave the bookstore and step out into the rain.

He started walking down the street, passing the big open window that you sat in front of. For a fleeting moment, he met your gaze through the rain-pattered glass, and you offered him a small wave. He blinked in surprise, blushed again, and hurriedly disappeared without so much as a smile.

“Who was that?” you asked Mrs. Sakura immediately, once he was out of sight.

“He’s a nice young man,” she answered, stamping his books. “He’s a pro-hero--a bit too shy for my tastes, but he’s drummed up quite a following. I’m surprised you don’t know who he is.”

“I feel like I’ve seen him before,” you murmured, looking out the window again. A pro-hero would explain that strange familiarity; perhaps you had seen him on TV once or something.

“Tamaki Amajiki,” Mrs. Sakura said. “Although most people know him as Suneater.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. Tamaki Amajiki? From high school?

She noticed your expression. “You know him?”

“I graduated in the same year as him,” you explained, and all of those memories came flooding back. You hadn’t known him that well, but you remembered how much you liked his quiet nature. Compared to Mirio Togata’s loud and outgoing personality and Nejire Hado’s bubbly popularity, Amajiki had always been a nice change of pace. Back then, you had been placed in General Education at UA High School, with no desire to follow the route to becoming a hero. Your Quirk was neither strong nor useful for that field. Instead, you graduated and went on to college to become a writer. Funny how the world always seems to bring people back together. You looked back to Mrs. Sakura. “Does he come in here often?”

“He’s only been in a few times,” she replied. “Mostly sticks to himself and reads books on butterflies. I think he likes them.”

“Yeah, I remember something along those lines from school,” you said. “I sat behind him in a creative writing course the summer before our third year….I wonder if he remembers me.”

“With the way he was looking at you, I’d say he does.”

“W-what?” you asked, feeling your cheeks turning hot again. “What are you talking about?”

Mrs. Sakura simply shrugged her shoulders and started towards the back of the store again. “You work too hard!” you heard her call from between the shelves. “Take a break!”

You shook your head in disbelief and stared at your idle computer screen. Amajiki had been….looking at you? Like you bad been looking at him? Suddenly, it felt like you were back in high school in that creative writing class, staring at the back of his head as he sat at the desk right in front of yours. Maybe that’s why it had looked so familiar when he first walked into the bookstore. You remembered a harmless, silly little crush you had had on him, all those years ago.

You gazed out of the shop’s window again. The sun was now peeking through the rain clouds, casting its glow over the street and illuminating the drops that slid down the glass.

You wondered if you would see him again.

[note: let me know what you guys think!! i have the next chapter lined up, so it’ll be posted soon after this one.

taglist: @a-monsters-love @luv4kiyoomi-archive @greatbiscuitsword @jennammae @eveninglevi @heydae20 @eitabun @kuurechr @itsjusteunoia]

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki fic #tamaki amajiki x you #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x y/n #tamaki amajiki fanfic #suneater #suneater x you #suneater x reader #suneater x y/n #my hero academia #my hero academia fic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fic

99 notes · View notes

myjjbaby · 5 years ago

Note

Jj has a nightmare in the middle of the night and he goes outside but you follow him...

brisk nights

author’s note - last one for the night. this hits a little harder so if any of the warnings trigger you then maybe go read a fluffier piece.

synopsis - requested by @lil-italian-disappointment! JJ is always the one to comfort you but he can’t control when he needs you too.

warnings - 1.1k of anxiety, ptsd, and nightmares. if any of this is triggering please do not read and if they’re any other triggers feel free to reach out.

He woke up with a start. The once welcoming warmth of the comforter now felt claustrophobic and the relaxing sea breeze sent wracks of terrible shivers down his body.

JJ was in a complete panic.

The night was never a good time for him. His sleep was restless and his dreams never welcoming. Nightmares forcing his heavy, tired eyelids open. The only relief he could find was your serene features as soft breaths left your lips, almost like purrs. JJ was familiar with your warm breath against his sticky skin, on more than one occasion he laid perfectly still until morning just so he could watch you rest.

This night was different.

His breath wouldn’t even out, no matter how many times he tried to match your own or listen to your heart beat, the anxiety was still riddled through him. JJ knew he was shaking and that you would wake up from the movement, you were a light sleeper after all. So, he softly pulled your cheek off his chest and lowered it onto a pillow before picking himself off the bed.

He slipped out of the room, stumbling through his blurred vision, trying to blink back the tears. The sounds around him were muffled and he barely noticed when the floorboards beneath him creaked under his weight. JJ slumped down onto the steps of the porch, wincing when the screen door slammed behind him, and grabbed his shirt tightly. His knuckles turned white as he bit back harsh, dry sobs that pushed against the back of his throat.

He tried to push away the flashes behind his eyelids as the horrors of the previous summer crossed his mind. John B leaving him behind, Shoupe telling them he lost his brother, his dad hitting him until his knuckles bruised and JJ felt numb.

Your body, still laying on the dark blue sheets, began turning, the lack of JJ’s warmth unsettling your sleeping self. Your fingers brushed against the sheets when they couldn’t find his soft skin next to yours. Slowing groaning, you lift your head to squint through the darkness, looking for your boyfriend’s blonde waves. Finding his place empty, you rested your palm against his pillow, feeling the wet patch where his tear fell.

A wave of worry crashed over you and your eyes searched the room again before realizing he must’ve left. Slowly slipping out of the welcoming covers, your feet brushed against the cold wood of the floor. You rose to your feet before shuffling, much quieter than JJ, through the chateau.

The bathroom, hallway, and his favorite striped couch were all empty when you search through the moonlit house. You frantically started to walk back through the hall, towards John B’s abandoned room, when you noticed JJ’s slouched figure against the porch stairs. A huff of short relief echoed through the silence before his sobs made you hold your breath again.

He could hear your small footsteps approach him and the screen door screech as you opened it until it quickly shut behind him again. His heart hammered against his chest when you crouched behind him, palms massaging his tense shoulders. JJ took his first deep breath of the night.

“J?”

“I’m sorry,” he felt you shake your head against his neck, “I am. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You lifted your head out of his skin enough to press your lips right where his shoulder met his neck.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.”

JJ did know that. He hoped that your sleeping mind wouldn’t process the lack of his body near yours but wasn’t surprised you did.

“Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded his voice caught in his throat again, labored breaths pushed out between his lips.

“Baby, hey, hey,” you moved around to crouch in front of him, “J, I need you to breathe with me.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes you can, J. Look at me.”

Your heart was shattered when you saw how red and puffy his eyes were. The blues in them were striking with the stark contrast. Quickly kissing his forehead, you started to even out your breathing loudly so he could hear you.

“Where are we, baby?”

“The ch-chateau.”

“That’s right,” you smiled, “good. Okay, what can you see?”

His eyes shut quickly before opening them to look at you again.

“I, um, I see you.”

You hummed in agreement, letting his hands grip the small of your waist.

“And I see you, Baby, you’re right here with me, okay?”

JJ nodded and wrapped his arms behind your back. You watched him cautiously while he pulled you onto his lap.

“Can you just hold me?”

“Just like this?”

“Yeah.”

His sweaty forehead pressed deeply into your collarbone, hiding his flustered cheeks in your chest. You just ran soothing fingers up and down his scalp while your other hand played with the hairs at his neck. Pressing kisses against JJ’s waves while his choked cries turned to sturdy breaths, inhaling against your skin.

“That’s it, nice and slow breaths, yeah?”

JJ hummed, his warm breath crawling across your skin.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I was back home, and- and my dad was there. He was s-so angry at me. And he wouldn’t tell me why. Why doesn’t he- why doesn’t he love me?”

“I don’t know,” you felt fresh tears fall onto your chest, “I don’t know. But, I do know something, okay?”

He was shaking again. The nightmare seemed all too real.

“I love you. And Pope and Kie love you. JB is off living a life of luxury in Yucatan and I’m sure he loves you too. We’re all going to get through this. I love you, so, so much, J.”

His cries were still soft, too tired to freak out again.

“And JJ?”

He was dozing off but mumbled against you.

“It was just a dream. Only a dream. I love you and I’m here, not your dad.”

JJ took another deep breath and held you close in his lap. Listening to your whispers and letting your kisses gently put him to sleep.

You stayed there, JJ resting against you, his breaths even with no nightmares terrorizing him at this moment. And for once you stayed awake in the brisk night until the sun began to rise in the horizon, taking care of your boy like he had done countless times for you.

“I love you, JJ Maybank, I love you.”

#jj maybank #recs #like damn #outer banks #outerbanksedit #madison bailey #obx #sarah cameron #rudy pankow #jj obx #jj #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n

724 notes · View notes

jlf23tumble · 4 years ago

Note

Hey Jen. I think you’re superb like in a (not to quote anyone but) you can sit and kind of admire what you’re like kind of way. So thanks for being awesome and enjoyable to this internet stranger. In unrelated matter, do you have any angst filled fics? I mostly read HL but I’ll dive into whatever as long as the pain is there. (If I can give a preference, I’m not so much into magic, fantasy, wolves, and sorts.) In these unprecedented times, I think I’d still need a happy ending though after the characters suffer terribly lol. If you find time to put something together for little old moi, I’d appreciate it very much. Thanks! Keep on keeping on! You’re wonderful!

<bryan_cranston_me_question_mark.gif> !!!!!!!!!! This is so incredibly kind, I think you’re pretty wonderful, too! I feel like I’m probably going to let you down here, though, because I generally don’t go too hard for angst (for one, it usually translates into longer fics, for two, some areas of true angst are just things I don’t really want to read for pleasure, like messy cheating aftermaths, abuse, character death, etc., and for three, I get lost in the sauce if I try too hard to dissect if something actually IS major angst versus, say, intense pining), but I’ll do my best! I’m going to give my dirty dozen here--my top 12 for hl--then I’ll dive deeper under the cut, with authors I love who write so much angst it’s tough to pick just one, plus other fandoms, too, in case you want to dive deeper.

Fertile Ground, Blake, 4.4k. Okay, in truth, so much of what Blake writes has gorgeous lashings of angst, so definitely read all of their fic (every fandom), but this one?? HOLY MOLY, it deserves to be separated and celebrated, Harry’s angst about fertility, howwwwww is this 4.4k, I ask, constantly?

sensitive to pressure, momentofclarity/ @gaycousinlarry, 4.4k. Hockey players and pubes and scent kinks, and yet there’s still this current of angst that thrums underneath, man oh man, would I read everything in this universe.

Everything You Do, jishler/ @jishlerfics, 6.6k. The third part of a stunning series, this one focusing on Harry’s gender identity and the Dunkirk haircut, and if you saw those recent gifsets with him wearing the beanie during training, yeah, this fic is alllll about it

i’m a captain on a jealous sea, devilinmybrain/ @thedevilinmybrain, 15k. A lot of jealousy on Louis’s part about all things Gryles, both real and imagined, I’m loving the vibes this author brings to it all.

taking tips and getting stoned, alison, 24k. I don’t think I can sum this one up quickly, but taxi driver Louis comes across singer Harry, and a lot of things change after that? God, that’s bad, but this fic is not!

hard to confess, @hereforlou, 24k. I adore Maggie’s writing so much, and she’s another one where I could rec at least three more here, but the one where Harry hides that he’s pregnant until the very last second? It’ll forever be the scorpio of mpreg fics, and I say that with the highest praise.

Maybe I Miss You series, 13ways, 28k. THIS SERIES, ooooooooffffff, the angstometer is off the chart, and then the last installment? Harry in makeup? This after all the sexting and boxing and hate sex and finally they figure their shit out? All of it is so good, and I’m eternally sad the author moved on (but jesus, I get it).

hush., Wankerville, 41k. Easily in my top five fics of any fandom, the softness and the cruelty, the growth and the real-life feels, an American high school AU that is still stunning and must have blown doors off back in that particular day (I’d also rec this author’s other work, esp. for angst).

every universe but ours, 28finelines, 49k. Okay, so this one has a little bit of magic that might annoy you, but it’s mostly in a multiverse way, like you’re reading a ton of AUs, but the theme itself has an angsty core, fwiw!

Truly, Madly, Deeply (10 Things I Hate about You), sunsetmog, 54k. I know I talk a LOT about this author’s ongoing wip, Harry Styles Cooks... (which is phenomenal, please do yourself a favor if you haven’t already), but this one? Angst ahoy, Harry auditions for XFUK without telling his boyfriend/friends, becomes a success, then comes home.

Time Passed, coffinofachimera/ @belialsmiracles, 66k. For every fic rec list I make, I always have at least one fic where I say, if you read nothing else, read this one, AND THIS IS IT, all categories, it’s simply astounding, life-changing, world-ending, and it kills me that more people haven’t left comments, but if it keeps shitty comments away, I’m all for it, I’ll protect this author/fic with my life. I can’t even begin to describe it, but if you want to know what the songs Fine Line or She are about, here you go! AIMH, Tokyo Harry!

The World Turned Upside Down, dogslpdi/ @dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram, 71k. I’m really iffy on historical fics, but this fic! This fic nails it! The detail and the emotion, the way you can feel the effects of the strike in so many ways, but also how HIV/AIDS is not that far off on the horizon, it’s just so well done. Plus, I adore Ralph’s humor and the way she tagged this both “minor angst” and “miner angst,” and if I can’t end an angst rec on a light note, what more can I do?

Let’s start with things beyond hl...lately, I’ve been reading a LOT of Untamed fic, and I feel like I should just point you to Liv’s masterlists because they are angst city (and fun city, too), plus she’s done a really good job of labeling them accordingly (right now, my fave angst is from chunk no. 2, Fire in the Blood, which is a case fic, but oof, I can’t wait to read even more in these parts).

I’m also just now getting into Merlin and reading a lot in that fandom, but it’s a bit scattershot at this stage (I haven’t finished the show yet, and I’m still working my way through one author who wrote 100+ fics, all of which are incredible; if you’re curious for something recent from over there, Phoenix wrote a short, angsty one that’s good and ouchy, this tangled thicket).

Speaking of Phoenix, EVERYTHING she has written for Cars (Lightning/Doc) is incredibly angsty, usually with that happy ending finale--I’d rec my current fave, but it’s a wip, so no happy ending yet, wahhh. Check out this link to the rest of them, though, I rec ‘em all!

I still have to watch the source material, but everything anyone’s sent me from Cobra Kai is INCREDIBLY angsty and so, so good, so I’m gonna bet there’s a fair bit of fix-it fic in my future, but we shall see!

Now onto the hl angst, ideally things you haven’t already read a million times before. Like I said earlier, this one’s kind of tough because I’m not into intense angst (major character/close family member death, messy cheating aftermath--though @kingsofeverything’s Devil and the Deep Blue Sea is fantastic, if you’re into that [messy cheating aftermath, not death]; actually, a lot of Lauren’s longer fics have a dose of angst, so dive away!)

Speaking of authors who regularly deliver angst, I have quite a few that I would say just go check out their works because almost every single thing they’ve done has it in varying degrees, you won’t be disappointed! These authors primarily write the hl pairing, and I definitely rec ‘em all: HappyPrincess, got2ghost, mediaville, and sedfierisentio. Authors I love who write Harry/other characters and do it in a hella angsty way include vondrostes, sulkingroom, radiodurans, and wishforwishes (I swear, I still think about call me anything you like at least once a month).

#fic rec #one direction #angst #for someone who hates it i sure have a lot of it

46 notes · View notes

ssson-of-sparda · 3 years ago

Text

WHAT FORTUNE GAVE - CHAPTER 1 (VERGIL X NERO’S MOTHER)

Summary: Vergil arrives in Fortuna and crosses path with a rebellious lady dressed in red. But even if he doesn't want pay attention, Fortuna seemed determined to intertwine their lives.

(PROLOGUE)

Tags: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Explicit Sexual Content / Explicit Language / Canon-Typical Violence / Blood and Gore / Religion / The Order of The Sword / Civil War / Rebellion / Demons / Action and Adventure / Sparda’s past

Author’s note: So, let me introduce you to Elissa aka Nero's mother. I've decided to make her rebellious and quite feisty to mirror Nero's impetuosity. After all, that kid had to take after someone, right? So why not mummy dearest? I know the story might seem slow to start but I need to set up the scenery for the events to come. Hope you like it anyway.

It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. The cobbled streets were empty, the shops and cafes all closed, for all the inhabitants were gathered inside the Cathedral whose majestic dome overlooked the nearby Renaissance-style buildings, a sacred beacon calling the devotees to pray. But the religious establishment was nothing in comparison to the partially-veiled giant-like idol standing tall and massive within the ramparts of the city, a figure made of stone and marble with the face of Vergil’s father. It didn’t look very resembling to him. Sparda never had such delicate features, not in his son’s memories at least. But it did not matter. The young man wasn’t here to judge some clearly distasteful architecture. He was here for the answers and the promises of power that island kept in between its walls. “The Order of the Sword, huh? They worship a demon as a god?” This reality sounded foolish, incomprehensible even. His father was no god. He knew that better than anyone. But what was religion if not idealisation, divinisation of a flawed man? Humans …

***

“Elissa!” A fearful whisper pronounced the girl’s name but it would take more than a whisper for her to stop her mischief. “Elissa! Come dddd-down!” The girl named Elissa smiled, enjoying the risk she was definitely taking. Degrading the Savior? Not her first time. But she had never climbed that high before. “What if sss-omeone sees you … sss-ees us?” She rolled her green eyes, weary of the perpetual anxiety shaking the already very trembling voice of her friend. “Agnus! Stop being such a pussy!” She shouted-murmured, not really knowing why she was murmuring at all. “Everyone’s at church!” Agnus fidgeted even more as he saw the young woman taking her time spraying blue paint on the statue, the tip of her rosy tongue out, an adorable display of her concentration and perfectionism. “Does it look like the Guard’s symbol to you?” She demanded, observing her rebellious art from all possible angles. Agnus sighed and looked up, regretting to have left his lab for this childish yet dangerous adventure. He wasn’t a teenager anymore. He even had a woman and a baby daughter waiting for him at home. So why wasting time playing vandals with Elissa? He knew why. “You’re not looking under my skirt, are you?” The man blushed, terribly uncomfortable. “What? Of cccc-ourse not!” But he was a scientist and scientists were curious beings. That’s what he was telling himself each time he was thinking about what was hidden underneath Elissa’s crimson clothes.The Cathedral bells rang loud, signalling the end of today’s mass. Soon, the people of Fortuna would invade the streets again to come back to their boring daily occupations. “We’re definitely gonna get ccc-caught.” Agnus told himself. “What am I gonna tell Marcus?” A suspect noise stopped Agnus in his alarming thoughts. It was coming from a few streets away. Squeals and growls of fury and pain. Demons? “Ddd-did you hear that?” Elissa listened carefully and recognized the screams. She had heard similar ones in Mitis Forest recently. She had shut a lot of them up too. They were demons alright but not the worst kind. “Just a few …scarecrows.” She tried to reassure Agnus but realised he was already gone. “Such a pussy.” She shook her head, slightly exasperated but not surprised. Agnus was not famous for his bravery, quite the opposite. He was a coward but Elissa was okay with it. After all, he had been providing the Guardians with very useful information concerning demons for a few years now, all that thanks to his natural talents as an alchemist. The girl jumped off the statue and, in order to remove the beige dust from the fabric, shook her old red dress typical of Fortuna fashion, one of the few clothes she had kept from her past life in the Order and that she now used to blend in among the Fortunans each time she would venture in town. She then cautiously pulled up her skirt to reveal a thigh belt hidden under the white petticoat and strapped the spray can, right next to a sharp curved dagger she kept in a thin leather sheath just in case. “Hey! You!” Did we say cautiously? “Shit!” Time to run.

***

Yamato shone in the sun, casting a shadow on Vergil’s young face that even this small fight hadn’t manage to fluster, and once again the blade made one with the saya with a perfect clink that echoed like a lethal musical note in the demon-cleared street. “Just what are your true intentions?” He wondered out loud as he wrapped his blue frame under a linen cloak that looked foreign to anyone who would take a look.Elissa took a look, green eyes staring with curiosity from under her white hood she had carelessly thrown above her head in precipitation to cover her soft locks of fiery ginger when she had left the place of her previous mischief as fast as she could, successfully escaping the angry guards shouting at her. She took a look, knowing exactly what this stranger had just done as she watched him crossing the crowd with purpose, alone, going up the street towards the Cathedral while everyone was walking down, their minds still lost in religious psalms. She stopped in her track for a second to admire him, wondering who he was and where he came from. She imagined a distant city at first, somewhere far away from here, crowded with people who hadn’t been indoctrinated by the Order’s promises. But then, as she noticed his bearing, so stately and yet so lonely, she thought he wasn’t from a particular place but from many places. A wanderer, traveling the world, someone who held knowledge, who had seen what was beyond the horizon of Fortuna. He probably noticed her stare as he concealed his face even more under his hood and slightly hunched his shoulders. So, out of respect and despite her devouring curiosity, Elissa walked away, certain that if Sparda wanted her to meet this mysterious strange again, then their paths would cross one more time.Vergil quietly made his way in the main avenue where the marble giant was standing and slowed down when he noticed a small crowd gathered by the statue’s feet. Everyone was gasping in shock, hands over mouths as if they were the witnesses of the worst sacrilege, the most terrible infamy. Wondering what the fuss was all about, the Son of Sparda peered over everyone’s shoulders from a distance but close enough to spot a graffiti plastered on the leg of the thing the Fortunans seemed to call The Savior. It was a symbol of some sort, a pair of winged arms with sharp claws protecting Sparda’s horned head. It had been drawn with turquoise paint that was still running down the immaculate white stone and that was leaving a heavy odour of solvents in the ambient air, identical to the one Vergil had smelt when that girl who had stared at him with insistence had walked past him, an odour indicating Vergil when the degradation had been made and who had done it.He scoffed briefly, amused by the political provocation and the over-dramatic reaction of the bigoted crowd, and after glancing one last time at the spray-painted symbol, resumed his exploration of the city. “Looks like appearances can be deceiving in this city after all.” Vergil said as he thought about the rebellious girl in saint clothes who didn’t seem to be new in the graffiti drawing business according to the devotees’ wrath. “Those rebels again! Soiling the image of Sparda with their belligerent propaganda. Hope the Order will find them soon.” They agreed with each other with angry nods. “They are worse than demons! They probably hide in shadows like the rats they are.” Had Vergil just stepped in the middle of a civil war?

***

When her holy hood fell back on her shoulders, Elissa sighed in relief, glad to finally feel her soft ginger hair finally liberated from that awful religious cage of white cotton she couldn’t stand wearing anymore. Few more minutes and she would also get rid of that ridiculous dress that constricted her like a straitjacket. But right now, she had a meeting to attend. Summoned by her leader, probably to claim responsibility for her new roguishness that had caused such a big turmoil in the city this morning, she pushed the door of Guardian Marcus’s office without an ounce of fear or apprehension. She knew full well she would not be reprimanded. She never was. “Elissa! My child, come.” The white-haired old man welcomed her with wide opened arms and showed her a seat before him where she sat in silence and waited for him to say what he had to say.At first, he just stared at her, without a word but with half a smile and a look of amusement he couldn’t keep to himself. And finally he spoke with a cheerful tone. “You should have painted it red.” His loud laugh echoed in the room and he took a huge sip of the red wine waiting to be drunk in a fancy chalice next to his velvet armchair. Elissa had a timid respectful smile; unable to act casual with this man who, even though was distant family, had been leading the cause she was fighting for for so many years, since even before she was born. “How did you find out?” “Agnus told me.” He admitted and gauged the girl’s reaction who seemed more disappointed in herself than surprised. “Should have thought so.” “Be careful who you surround yourself with, Elissa. Offering someone your trust can be as dangerous as any blade. Believe me, I know.” He traced the large scar along his wrinkled face, a reminder of an old betrayal that had made him lose, in addition to his left eye, a man he used to call brother and who was now leading Fortuna thanks to his lies and his dark secrets. Sanctus. “I shall remember your advice, sir.” “But you know what surprises me the most? It’s that Adel didn’t try to talk you out of this. After all, he follows you like a shadow … an enamoured shadow even.” Marcus smiled, trying to build complicity with this young lady, the granddaughter of the brother he had lost long ago, a child he loved like his own. Elissa smiled in return and shook her head, having trouble to believe she was having this conversation with her leader. “And yet you seemed keen on refusing his advances. May I know why?” “I didn’t know this was a matchmaking appointment.” Elissa humoured, definitely amused by the situation. “I’m old and I’ve been at war for most of my life. So let’s say, the frivolity of youth and the burgeoning loves are like peaceful songs to my heart.” Elissa sighed and her heart, in spite of this new attempt at making it yield to a man she didn’t love, once again refused to see Adel as nothing else than a friend. “I’m just not interested. Enamoured shadows are not my type.” “ And what, pray tell, is your type?”

***

Vergil had visited many places in his short lifetime. Perpetually on the move – he refused to say ‘on the run anymore’ for running was for the weak – he had seen so many cities, so many different landscapes, some in shades of blue, some in shades of green and other in shades of gold, so many colours most men would have forgotten but that he had somehow always cared to remember. But there was something about Fortuna that made her unique, different from all the things he had had the chance to see. Perhaps was it the anachronistic almost medieval atmosphere that had shaped the city architecture and the inhabitants’ lifestyle or perhaps was it because every edifice seemed to hold secret knowledge about his family. Whatever it was, Vergil was sure of one thing; what made Fortuna special were clearly not the city’s filthy underground bars from Port Caerula, well hidden under the docks, away from prying eyes that would be easily outraged by the debauchery they held between their walls. That kind of place he was familiar with, despite his revulsion for them and the people frequenting them. “Hello, sugar. You’re a new face.” An eccentric woman declared as she tried to take a peek under Vergil’s cowl, her voluptuous body leant against the bar. “And a handsome one. I would lower my price for a face like yours.” The young man glanced at the woman, shortly but long enough to see how she looked, the embodiment of repulsive tragedy that once looked beautiful. Her makeup was smeared and barely hiding the bruises and the cuts on her young face and she was wearing a church outfit ripped at the thighs and purposely unbuttoned to reveal her generous cleavage. And in her velvet purse, she kept a wig made of dry artificial ginger hair some despicable men had certainly asked her to wear more than once. “Not interested. Now leave.” Vergil’s tone was curt and cold but she insisted anyway. “You’re sure? I make the best blowjobs in all Fortuna. Isn’t that right, Captain?” She nodded towards a young charismatic brown-skinned man carrying a crossbow on his back and drinking sitting the stool right next to Vergil. When he heard his name, he spared a glare at the prostitute and at the Son of Sparda as well for no particular reason but because he hated his occasional obscene deviations to be exposed. “He just looooves some naughty church girls. Do you like them too?” Vergil ignored her and focused again on his drink, lying untouched on the bar. He didn’t like drinking. “Or do you prefer them innocent and prudish? I can be either.” “Quit with your lies and just leave, Pomona².” The dark-haired man ordered with a strong voice that made her smile. “ Ha! Looks like I finally have my name back. See you around, sugar… Adel.” She winked and left to sell her body to someone else that would accept it in exchange of a bit of money.“You should not visit that sort of bar if women like Pomona bother you, stranger.” The so-called Adel warned before drinking from his tankard. He, just like everybody else here, could tell Vergil was not from around. All they had to do was looking at him. After all, everyone knew everyone else in a small reclusive island like Fortuna. “It’s sometimes the loudest, worst people that give all the information a man looks for.” “So you’re looking for information then. About what?” Vergil was a curious man but he despised curiosity in other people, especially when he was the subject of their curiosity. “Nothing a man like you knows about.” The answer surprised the Moor who hadn’t expected such arrogance coming from a stranger. “Well, piece of advice. If you want information in Fortuna, there are two ways to get them. Either you don’t behave like an arrogant asshole or you pay for them.” Vergil smirked slightly under his hood as he already knew how to react to such pathetic insult. Adel was not a difficult man to read. “Just like when you want a woman’s love, am I right?” The provocation burnt and stang like the most vicious hot poker piercing through

Adel’s dignity and ego. It pushed him to stand up and grab his crossbow in retaliation. But his weapon, as precise and strong as it was, was useless in close combat and it instantly met the sharp blade of a magnificent katana that would make any swordsman worth the name grow pale. And with a dexterous swift move, the crossbow flew across the room as if it was a paper plane.But the clients in the bar didn’t gasp at the legendary Yamato. They gasped at the silvery-white hair adorning Vergil’s head that had been revealed when he inadvertently had lost his hood in this express fight. “It’s the hair of Sparda.” People whispered, amazed. With an expert graceful move, Yamato found his saya again and Vergil walked through the crowd, high-handed and resolved to escape this place and all those bothering eyes he felt upon him.But as he pushed the door of the establishment, he came face to face with the feminine figure he had noticed in the streets this morning. It stopped him in his track and for the first time in his lifetime, but certainly not the last, he looked into her deep green eyes. They reminded him of an old poem he loved greatly, one he had read so many times and would never grow tired of, about a dark forest and a tyger burning bright³. And as he gazed in that girl’s look and witnessed that emerald wood, wild and dense, trying to conceal in vain the fiery fur of a predator, Vergil knew he would never read that poem the same way or imagine Blake’s colours in the shades he would normally imagine them. And so he stared, longer than he wanted, almost the same way she gazed at the pale blue topazes and at the god-like silver hair crowning his head. But while fire is wild, the ice is timid. And thus, admiration only shows through the eyes of the red lady. And when she finally opened her mouth to speak her mind, Vergil escaped into the night leaving lost shadows behind him. But that was fine. Shadows were not the lady’s type after all.It all started on a Holy Thursday, on the first day of a most-welcomed vigorous spring that tinted the cityscape of the Castle Town of Fortuna in luminous shades of gold and blue. But among them there was this vibrant red and two sparkling amber-tinted emeralds reflecting brighter than anything else in a pair of icy eyes, a mirror who strangely wouldn’t mind seeing that reflection again.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ¹ Marcus: derived from the name of the Roman god of war, Mars to highlight Marcus' status and personality. ² Pomona: From Latin pomus "fruit tree". The word "Pomme" is also the French for "apple", the fruit of temptation. Pomona will come back in other chapters. ³ a tyger burning bright : From William Blake's poem The Tyger

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #nero's mother #vergil x nero's mother #vergil fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

everlarkbirthdaygifts · 4 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday, madelion82!

Apologies for the short delay on your birthday gift, @mandelion82! We hope you had an amazing day today, and that you got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To keep your party going a little while longer, the wonderful @norbertsmom has written a story just for you!

Author's note: Happy birthday to @Mandelion82, sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy your age gap, friends to lovers Everlark birthday fic. Big thanks to @mega-aulover who not only beta’ed this fic, but was also my writing partner. Without further ado…

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

New Beginnings

Peeta Mellark is excited. There’s only 1 week left before school starts up again, but he’s excited nonetheless. He has the week off, and his best friend is finally home from her job at summer camp.

Summer without Prim had been completely boring. He had to work all summer in the family bakery because his older brother made the Panem University Football team, so Rye got to run around at practice everyday instead of working in the bakery like usual.

Peeta had to do all the heavy lifting, working 40 hours a week or more. Sure, the money was great - he bought a car! - but he was always dead tired by the weekend. And with his best friend away, Peeta had been bored.

But now, Prim and her sister Katniss are home. Peeta can’t wait to see them. He and Prim are juniors this year and Katniss is a senior. Peeta has had a crush on Katniss since his first day of school. When his dad introduced him to the daughters of his old school friend on his first day at Kindergarten. It was a day he would never forget.

He and Prim were in the same kindergarten class and became instant best friends. Katniss, a first grader, on the other hand, intrigued him, especially how she took care of Prim. She was a year older, so she knew the ropes. She held Prim’s hand and explained what was going on so neither Prim nor he was nervous.

Peeta’s own brothers never did that for him. When he and his brothers got to the schoolyard, his older brothers took off to go play with their friends until school started. Katniss, however, stuck around.

That first day, when the bell rang, all the kids were ushered into the auditorium. Peeta was so excited; he’d never seen so many kids gathered at one time. The school Principal, Effie Trinket held a welcome rally at the beginning of every new school year. Katniss directed Prim and Peeta to sit near the front so they could see better. Peeta quickly got bored of the Principal’s speech about rules and etiquette, but when Miss Trinket called Katniss up to the stage, that got his attention.

“My dear children, you are in for a treat,” Miss Trinket announced. “Your very own Katniss Everdeen is going to sing a song to start out our new year.”

Katniss stepped up to the microphone and in the voice of an angel started to sing a song called New Beginnings. Katniss voice soared to great heights. Prim giggled next to him, but Peeta didn’t pay any attention. He stared in awe throughout the entire song. When she was done, Peeta stood up and gave her an enthusiastic standing ovation. Katniss looked over at Peeta and smiled, and Peeta was a goner.

That was 12 years ago, and Peeta still holds that crush close to his heart. Not only was Katniss his best friend’s sister, but she probably thought of him as a little brother.

Now, Peeta is on his way to visit the sisters for the first time all summer. He knocks at the door, bouncing on his feet, excited to see his best friend.

The door opens, and Peeta’s eyes go wide and his voice catches in his throat, because standing before him in a tiny green bikini is no other than Katniss Everdeen, the love of his life.

Not that she knows that, but she’s staring at him like he’s some kind of dummy, Peeta thinks, but he can’t seem to get any words out. He’s so distracted by her long flowing hair that she flips back over her shoulder.

Katniss gives him a small shy smile. It's so brief Peeta thinks he imagined the look on her face. Her smiles are rare.

“Is he here?” Prim asks from behind Katniss and it seems to break the staring contest.

Katniss steps back and tells Prim, “You just might have to shoo the girls away at school when they see your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Prim says as she passes Katniss, who’s rushing off to the back into the house.

“Come on in,” Prim tells him, then whistles as he steps inside. “Wow, you really put on some muscle over the summer. Working in the bakery really did your body good,” she says while squeezing his bicep, and pinching him on the side.

Peeta pushes her away. “Whatever, but you sure got taller. You’re taller than Katniss now.”

“I know,” Prim giggles. “She hates it.”

Katniss comes back out wearing a cover-up over her bikini, but Peeta can still see her long tanned legs. She’s such a goddess, he can’t keep his eyes off of her. “I’m outta here. Have fun guys,” Katniss says and rushes off.

“Stare much,” Prim teases, and punches Peeta in the stomach.

Katniss quickly looks back, but scurries off before Prim sees she was returning his stare. Her phone rings as she walks away.

“Peeta,” Prim chides, “You know the rules. No dating each other’s siblings.”

That rule came about because in the 6th grade, their fellow students, Cashmere and Glimmer got in a fight because Glimmer started dating Cashmere’s twin brother. They didn’t talk for weeks. So Prim and Peeta made a rule that they couldn’t date each other’s siblings. Peeta agreed even though he had a huge crush on Katniss. He knew he never had a chance with her. She was a year older, beautiful, and all the boys liked her.

That call is probably from her boyfriend Gale Hawthorne anyway, Peeta thinks, and tries to put Katniss in her tiny green bikini out of his mind. Peeta and Prim spend the rest of the day swimming in the backyard pool, telling each other about their summer.

By the time Katniss comes back, the sun is dipping into the horizon and Peeta swears that shade of orange is now his favorite color. It casts her golden skin in a hue that makes her look like a goddess. Peeta dives under the water to calm himself down.

For the rest of the night neither notice Katniss keeps peeking outside. When Peeta goes to leave, it’s his car that draws Katniss out again.

Prim whistles, “This old junk needs to be scrapped, not driven.”

“Hey, no!” Peeta leans in and whispers, “Don’t listen to her, cheese-bun, she knows nothing about cars.”

Katniss grins, then says, ”Nice ‘66 Shelby Cobra Mustang, needs a lot of work, but it looks like it has good bones.”

Peeta stares openly at Katniss.

“Don’t be too impressed, Gale’s dad is a gearhead. He teaches Katniss whenever she goes over there,” Prim says dryly.

Peeta nods. Figures, her boyfriend probably drives a fully restored muscle car and takes her out every night. Peeta clears his throat, “I, uh, I bought it off of the goat man. You know that guy who runs the goat farm at the edge of town. He came into the bakery and was talking about getting rid of the car his son left in the barn before going off to war all those years ago. I went out to see it with my dad, and I couldn’t believe what he had. It was in terrible shape, as you can see, but I really have hopes for restoring her to her old glory.”

“Besides Prim, you shouldn’t be too harsh, this is the car that’s going to take us to school for the rest of the year,” Katniss says firmly.

“Sure,” Peeta squeaks out. He clears his throat and in a manlier voice he repeats, “Sure, yeah, I’ll be driving you ladies to school everyday.”

“Great, we’re gonna get laughed at on our first day back,” Prim whines, but Katniss tells her to shush.

Peeta gets in his car and starts it, but before he can put it into gear, it backfires. Prim shakes her head and grumbles while Katniss laughs and waves to Peeta as he pulls out of the driveway.

Peeta comes over everyday for the rest of the week, but Katniss is never around.

On the first day back to school, Peeta picks up Prim and Katniss. Katniss doesn’t say much. She has her earbuds in, listening to music. She gives him a quick nod and jumps in the back seat, so Prim can sit up front.

When they get to school, someone wolf whistles.

Cato Ludwig comes up and puts his arm around Katniss’ shoulder. “Now that Hawthorne is away, Kitty cat can play.”

Katniss ducks under his arm and pushes him away. Her legendary scowl in place. “Get lost, Cato.”

“Oh, not in a playful mood, are we?” he asks, then turns to Prim.

“How about you, little sister, you’re not so little anymore, are you?” and wiggles his eyebrows.

He goes to put his arm around Prim, but Peeta jumps in and twists Cato’s arm around his back.

Cato makes a counter move, but Peeta is ready and pins him to the ground. He may have been smaller than his brothers, but he’s had to wrestle his older brothers his whole life.

“Get off me,” Cato growls, not liking being shown up by a younger kid in front of the rest of the school.

Before Peeta can let him up, Coach Abernathy comes out of the building and blows his whistle.

Peeta jumps up and holds his hand out to Cato, who pushes it away before getting up himself.

“Cato and Peeta, enough of that.”

All the kids around make oohing sounds.

Cato whines. “I wasn’t fighting. Mellark jumped me.”

“Looked more like he was protecting his friends,” Coach replies. “From you.” He turns to Peeta, “You should think about joining the wrestling team with moves like that, but any more fighting and it’s detention for the both of you.” He emphasizes his point by pointing two fingers at both of the boys, then storms off back into the school.

“Thank you Peeta,” Prim tells him. She gives Cato a scowl and drags Peeta into the school by the arm. Katniss follows at a short distance behind them.

Peeta looks back at Katniss, and she nods, and mouths, “Thanks.”

“Mr. Mellark,” Coach Abernathy calls from his office.

Peeta hangs his head. Great, he thinks, I bet I’m getting that detention after all.

“I need to speak to you.” Coach Abernathy walks away.

Peeta tells Prim goodbye and follows Coach into his office. Once there Coach Abernathy shows him a chair.

“Kid you need an elective, that cooking class has been cancelled.”

Peeta sits up. “What?”

“Not enough people signed up and it got cancelled.” Coach Abernathy looks at his computer screen. “Let’s see, in that time slot, your choices are Auto Shop, and Public Speaking. Oh, wait a minute. You’ve already taken public speaking, so Auto Shop it is.”

“Great,” Peeta says as he gets up. I need Auto Shop to work on my car anyway, he thinks.

“Oh, and Mr. Mellark,” Coach Abernathy says before Peeta can leave the room, “You really should consider trying out for wrestling. You already got the moves.”

“I’ll think about it, sir,” Peeta says as he leaves the office.

Peeta just sits down in first period literature class. The teacher isn’t in the room, so most of the kids are still milling around. Cashmere, Glimmer, and Clove surround Peeta’s desk.

“Wow Peeta, you sure grew up this summer,” Cashmere tells him.

“Ya,” Clove says, then snaps her gum, “you got muscles, like your brothers.”

“You really took on Cato for Primrose Everdeen. He’s a senior. Is she your girlfriend?” Glimmer asks while twirling her hair.

“What? No, Prim is my best friend.”

“Oh, are you dating Katniss Everdeen, then?” Cashmere asks, then points at Katniss who just walked in the door.

Peeta makes a choking sound and stares over at Katniss who sits down on the other side of the room.

The girls all look over too, and Katniss quickly looks away.

“I see,” Cashmere says, and pulls the other two girls away, whispering and pointing between Peeta and Katniss.

“Katniss has a boyfriend,” Peeta finally says, although he doubts they hear him over their whispering. Katniss is going to hate being the subject of rumors, Peeta thinks.

Later that day, Peeta has lunch with Prim.

“People keep asking me about you, how you got so built, why you took on Cato.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about that. Tell me about your day. Anything good happen?” Peeta asks.

Prim obliges by telling him about the new girl she met, named Rue. “She’s a new transfer from District 11 and reminds me of Katniss so much. She just loves the outdoors, and she sings all the time.”

“Sounds like you found yourself a new best friend,” Peeta teases.

“What? No!” Prim blushes. “You’ll always be my best friend. I just, I don’t know. I like her.” Prim looks down at her lap.

“Hey, no worries,” Peeta tells her, lifting up her chin. “I was just kidding. Go ahead and spend time with Rue. I’m happy that you made a new friend.”

“Thanks,” Prim says shyly.

The end-of-lunch bell rings and each heads off to their next class, Biology for Prim, and Auto Shop for Peeta.

Peeta walks down the long hallway to Auto Shop. He’d never been in this wing of the school before. His father had told him, back in his day, all the boys had to take Woodworking Shop and Auto Shop, while the girls took Home Ec, but nowadays, all those classes are electives.

Peeta steps into the classroom and finds several auto bays on one side of the room, and a long table with chairs lining the other side of the room. Several people are already sitting at the table, but he doesn’t know anyone yet.

“Hey Mellark,” a voice he was dreading to hear, calls behind him, “what are you doing slumming in Auto Shop?” Cato Ludwig asks him.

Before he can answer, the voice he loves to hear calls out, “Why, worried he’ll pin you again?”

The other kids chuckle as Cato’s face sours. “No one asked you, Everdeen,” he grouses.

Katniss Everdeen, this class just got that much better.

“Hey Katniss,” Peeta says shyly, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were taking Cooking class this period.”

That’s odd she knew that, Peeta thinks. Prim must have told her.

“Uh, it got cancelled. This was the only class open. But I’m glad it was. Now I can learn how to work on my car.”

“Oh yeah. You need to ask Ms. Mason if we can use your car in class, but we’ll need to find another way to school. I don’t want to take the bus.”

“I can do that?” Peeta asks.

“Only if your car is worth my time,” A voice answers behind him.

Peeta turns around to find himself face to face with a woman in her mid twenties, with black spiky hair tipped in red, wearing a red tank top and coveralls folded down at the waist.

“Whatchagot kid?” she asks him.

Before he can answer, Katniss jumps in, “He’s got a ‘66 Shelby Cobra Mustang. Been in a barn for decades, but it could really be something if we can get to work on it.”

Ms. Mason nods. “Sounds good, and you guys can call me Johanna. I’m the teacher now, no longer the assistant, so what I say goes, got it?”

“Got it.” Everyone answers in unison.

“Okay, Lovebirds, you take bay one.”

“We’re not a couple, and the name’s Peeta, Peeta Mellark. Nice to meet you Johanna.”

“Kissing up doesn’t work in this class. And I don’t care if you and Brainless are together or not. Just do your work, Loverboy and you’ll do fine.”

Johanna moves onto the other bay assignments.

“Don’t mind her,” Katniss tells him, a light blush on her cheeks. “She gives everyone a nickname.”

“Yeah? How’d you get Brainless?”

“I forgot to put the oil pan plug back in last semester. Oil all over the floor. What a mess.” Katniss tells him with a grin. “It’s better than Meathead, or Marvelous.”

“Is that why they call him Marvel?”

Katniss nods with a smile. Katniss is something else in Auto Shop class, Peeta thinks. She really comes out of her shell, and Peeta likes seeing this side of her.

Peeta learns quickly that he knows nothing about cars, but the prospect of working on his own car with Katniss Everdeen is something to look forward to.

After school, Peeta drives Katniss and Prim home. Prim tells them about her new friend Rue, and how they are in almost every class together. She even wants to be a doctor just like Prim. With news of Peeta’s car being used in shop class, they find that Rue can drive them back and forth to school.

Katniss still sits in the back, but with Peeta now. They talk about everything they can do to the car. Peeta has never seen Katniss talk so much at one time.

Time flies, and the car is taking shape. Prim starts hanging out with Rue after school while Peeta and Katniss work on his car.

Peeta starts cutting his lunch short to go to Auto Shop class early. One day he is trying to configure the carburetor. He has to figure out how to connect the throttle link.

“Hey Mellark,” Katniss calls. “Why are you here so early? Shouldn’t you be at lunch with Prim?”

“I have to finish this up before class. I can’t mess up my test.”

“Let me help you with that,” Katniss says as she leans over.

“Thanks.”

“So quick, what do you call that,” Katniss says pointing to the round thing sitting on top of the engine.”

This is going to be painful. Peeta cannot focus on the car with Katniss so close. He’s staring at the graceful slope of her neck. Who knew a neck could be alluring. He begins to sweat.

“Earth to Peeta,” Katniss snapped her fingers in front of his face.

Peeta understands the meaning of becoming cross eyed. Momentarily his vision blurs and his heart rate spikes. He blurts out the first thing that comes to his brain. “An air filter?”

“No it’s the air cleaner.”

“Right.” Peeta feels like an idiot. How in the world is he supposed to study when he turns into a buffoon in her presence. Peeta takes a deep breath to clear his mind. “I feel like I’m never going to get this right.”

“Don’t, these old cars aren’t easy. But they are fun to work on. And trust me, there’s nothing like the sound of a finely tuned engine purring.” She gives him one of her rare rosy cheeked smiles.

Peeta has no idea what Katniss was talking about but he nodded. “Okay.”

“Now next question, what does a carburetor do?”

“It mixes air and fuel to make internal combustion.” Taking out a handkerchief he wipes his face and mutters under his breath, “I think.”

“Good.” Katniss reached out and put her hand on his forearm. “Name the different types of carburetors.”

Peeta thinks he’s going to combust. Nervously he wipes his brow again. He’s losing his concentration at Katniss' light touch. “Custom choke, vacuum, and multiple ven...vent-venturi,” he blurts out.

“Good. Now which one of those is in your car?” She squeezed his arm. Peeta is holding onto his sanity by a thin thread.

“It has a choke one,” he gasped. “I know because I was able to find the number…”

“You don’t have to say another thing, Johanna won’t really care. She just wants to make sure you know what you’re doing.” Katniss removes her hand from his arm, flicking her signature braid over her shoulder.

“Really.”

“Yeah, if you’re going to drive this around you want to make sure you know what to do if your engine dies, or lose control. It's important.”

Katniss stares at Peeta for a moment, then her face becomes pink before she blurts out, “You know, you smell like a cookie.”

Peeta wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Why can’t he smell manly, he’s got the smell like the bakery. “I’m sorry I smell.”

“You smell nice.” She takes a step toward him.

He stands straighter, unsure of what to do next. “Thank you?”

She’s so close he can see the flecks of yellow around her pupils when he looks down into her eyes. Peeta bends his head and Katniss lifts hers. She licks her lips and he mirrors her movements as their faces move close together.

The bell rings and the door to the shop bangs open. Peeta jumps back and Katniss steps away, suddenly interested in the car’s front tires. The other students start shuffling into the classroom.

When Johanna comes in and starts the class, everything is back to normal with Katniss. It’s like that moment never happened.

Half way through the year, Peeta and Katniss stay after class to work on his car once again. Peeta closes the hood and stands back, looking over his car. Katniss stands next to him wiping her hands.

“The car is close to being done.”

“So what color are you going to paint her?”

Peeta thinks it over. “Well, my favorite color is sunset orange, but that’s not an original color. What’s your favorite color?”

“Green,” Katniss says shyly.

“Really? Peeta says excitedly as he pulls up the color chart for 1966 Mustangs. “We can paint it Ivy Green. That’s an original color.” He leans over and shows her his phone.

“You’d do that?” she asks as she looks at his phone.

“Of course, You’ve put in as much work on this car as I have.”

Katniss looks up into Peeta’s eyes and smiles. “I’d like that.”

Peeta reaches out and brushes a loose hair behind her ear. “Besides, I would have been lost without you. I want to paint it your favorite color.”

“Okay,” Katniss whispers as she looks up into his eyes.

“Okay,” Peeta answers as he leans down, meeting her lips.

Katniss’ breath fans across his cheek. He pecks her lips experimentally.

Katniss places her hands on his chest and leans up on her tiptoes to capture his top lip. Peeta hands find purchase on her hips and flex gently at the sensation of her lips moving against his. Peeta’s heart soars as she deepens the kiss. It’s everything he’s dreamed this kiss would be. He cups her chin and she moans.

Katniss pulls away. Their eyes meet and once more their lips meet over and over again until they are both breathless. Peeta pulls away. “We shouldn’t be doing this?”

Katniss frowns. “You’re right, Katniss says, as she steps back. “Prim would hate me.”

“What about your boyfriend, Gale?” Peeta asks, confused.

“What are you talking about? I’m not dating Gale. I was talking about Prim. I know you two are dating. You’ve been best friends forever. She’d be stupid to not want to date you.”

“Uh, Katniss, if you haven’t noticed. Prim has been spending all of her time with Rue.”

“Really I thought it was because she was driving us to and from school.”

“Katniss, you’re the one I’ve been spending all my time with. I like you. I’ve had a crush on you since the moment I met you. This past year, working with you has been a dream come true.”

Katniss looks up at him and smiles. “Really?”

“Really,” Peeta answers her with another kiss. “So when you said Prim would be stupid to not want to date me, does that mean you would want to date me?”

Katniss looks down and whispers, “Maybe.”

Peeta lifts her chin back up and says, “I think I’ll just have to convince you.” And moves in to kiss her once more.

Neither of them hear the footsteps coming down the hall. “I think they are still in here,” Prim says. “The lights are still on.”

Prim and Rue walk in and find Katniss and Peeta in their passionate embrace.

“Finally,” Prim says.

“What about your,” Rue makes air quotes with her hands, “You shouldn’t date a brother or sister rule.”

“Rue I only did that because Katniss wasn’t ready to date. My sister’s so awkward about boys. I wanted to make sure she didn’t break Peeta’s heart. Besides, they’ve been dancing around each other all year. I think they’ll be a while. Let’s get out of here.”

Rue giggles.

“Shh....” Prim nods to the door.

Prim and Rue walk out hand in hand.

Back in the room, Katniss and Peeta each pull back and take a deep breath. Katniss looks around and asks, “Did you hear something?”

“Not a thing,” Peeta says, “but we are going to have to tell Prim about us. We had this rule…” Peeta drifts off, “but I think she will understand. They are probably waiting for us. Let’s go.”

Katniss and Peeta walk out, but Peeta says, “Hold on a second, and runs back, gives his car one last look and smiles at the thought of it bringing Katniss to him, and he turns out the light.”

This fic was inspired by both The Kissing Booth and Grease. I hope you enjoyed it.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlarkbirthdaydrabbles #everlarkbirthdaygifts #fan fic #by norbertsmom

107 notes · View notes

brynwrites · 5 years ago

Text

How to Write Non-binary Characters: Part III.

Visit PART ONE: the basics.

Visit PART TWO: the nitty gritty.

PART THREE: common pitfalls and easy fixes.

Here we'll cover some common situations where writing respectful non-binary characters can be trickier.

Writing Non-human Non-binary characters.

Non-human non-binary characters aren’t inherently disrespectful to non-binary people, but it can easily become negative representation when there are no non-binary humans present, because it implies that those with non-binary genders are less human (and usually more monstrous or more alien) than people with binary genders. You can read more about why this is a problem in this full analysis by Christine Prevas.

There's a very simple solution to this though: Write some non-binary humans. (Or, in the least, make it explicitly clear that non-binary humans exist, and are just as valid in their identity as anyone else.)

Writing Non-binary Villains.

This situation is very similar to the non-binary non-humans, but instead of implying that non-binary people are less human, it implies they are less moral, abnormal, depraved, or insane. Villainous figures in history have often have their villainy connected to or blamed on their non-gender conforming traits. We don't want to add to that clinging transphobic and homophobic belief with modern fiction.

As with non-binary non-humans, having non-villainous non-binary characters can go a long way in offsetting this, as well as not connecting (or letting characters within the world connnect) the villain's non-binary aspects with their perceived villainy. Instead of writing a non-binary villain, write a villain who also happens to be non-binary.

(On this note, I would be very cautious about writing villains who are being villainous because they've suffered from transphobia.)

Killing (your only) Non-binary Character.

This falls into the same category as the previous two sections, but it has just one solution: don't kill your story’s only non-binary or trans character. Just don't do it. If that character has to die to make the plot continue, let there be another primary non-binary or trans character in the story somewhere.

Writing “Coming Out” Scenes for Non-binary Characters.

Let's break this into two different types of coming out:

The casual, everyday coming out. This is the kind of coming out a non-binary person has to do every time they need to let new people in their lives know about their gender. If you're writing non-binary characters, you'll probably have to write some version of this at some point. It can be as simple as a character introducing themselves with their pronouns, wearing clothing or pins that say their pronouns, mentioning their identity casually, correcting someone's misuse of their pronouns, making a (respectful) joke involving gendered terminology (e.g. "I'm the king of monopoly today and the queen of monopoly tomorrow, but either way you're all going to lose!"), or a multitude of other ways.

While writing any setting that you create yourself (whether that's fantasy, science fiction, alternate history, etc), you can always do yourself a favor and work a method of identity presentation into the world building. Maybe in your fictional culture everyone wears a certain color accessory for certain gender identities or in your fictional boarding school the students all decided to introduce themselves with their pronouns no matter what gender they identity as.

The major, terrifying coming out. Often, this is the traditional coming out scene where the person sits down with family and tells their truth, even though they know things might turn out poorly. It might be the first time they've come out to anyone, or it might be that they've held off with certain important people in their life because they're afraid of those people's response. Be wary of writing out these scenes if you haven't lived through them yourself, because it's a very emotional and complex situation which, if represented poorly, can harm non-binary and trans people in real life. Sometimes though, you might want to allude to what happened during this scene because of its effect on the character!

Keep in mind that while there is much prejudice against non-binary (and trans) people in our world, that you don't have to include that in your stories. It is always the writer's decision to include transphobia and transphobic characters in what they write, as well as their responsibility to make sure that any transphobic inclusions are framed as the terrible, incorrect biases they are, and do not harm the trans and non-binary community.

Writing Non-binary Characters Discovering They’re Non-binary.

Realizing you're non-binary is often a long, emotional, and extremely personal experience. Unless you have a non-binary (or trans) co-writer or you've done an academic level of research, its best to leave these experiences to be written by the people you lived them, because there are many living people who have lived them, who will be effected by these stories on a very real, very personal level.

So, go write non-binary characters, but write them having adventures and falling in love instead.

Writing Societies Without Gender Binaries.

Because this is a huge topic where new pitfalls might appear at any moment do to the endless ways it can be used, the best thing to do if you're interested in writing it is to read speculative fiction from trans and non-binary authors and study the nuances of how they portray these societies, and, of course, always avoid the societal version of all the previous no-nos, like having only villainous or non-human non-binary societies.

Remember: when in doubt, get non-binary people to beta read your work.

Finally, here are two insanely easy ways to include non-binary representation in all your stories:

1. Give a character (or multiple characters!) they/them pronouns.

You don’t have to explain this. The character never needs to come out as non-binary. There doesn’t have to be a focus on whether they’re androgynous or not. You can keep it so simple that their description is just “Parker had brown hair and a hooked nose and when they smiled their eyes lit up,” and there you have a non-binary-coded character without having to do any work or research at all.

2. Have a character refer to their family member with gender neutral terms.

“Those are my sisters, my big brother, and my little sibling. We were on a skiing trip, but our step-parent came down with the flu so our father stayed back at the lodge and let our auntcle take us up the mountain.” Will any of these non-binary characters ever by in the story itself? Perhaps not. But it still shows that the author accepts the existence of non-binary people in their story’s world, and that the character speaking loves and respects the non-binary people in their family enough to refer to them in the ways those family members prefer.

Closing Words.

Non-binary people have had a long history of being ignored in Western stories. Having writers attempt to include respectful non-binary representation in their books is more important to us than having all that representation be perfect. So, write non-binary characters, find a few non-binary or trans readers to double check your work, and most importantly, and have fun.

While you’re at it, consider supporting non-binary writers writing ownvoices stories. If you don’t know of any, here’s the wikipedia list of the more famous authors and a little twitter thread with some lesser known voices. You can also purchase my debut novel, Our Bloody Pearl, a fun romp about a disabled, non-binary siren and a freckly pirate captain.

Stick around for a preview of Our Bloody Pearl....

SWELL BEGINNINGS

There is one thing I know for certain: We were right to hate the humans.

HUNGER HAUNTS ME like a bull shark. With every roll of the ship, the gunk inside my stagnant tub sloshes against my waist, stinging anew. The tight wooden room's stale air burns my lungs.

Steam whistles in the pipes that run along the walls, their copper gleaming in the dim ceiling light. My wrists throb where the metal cuffs locking me to the tub dig into my silver scales. The gill slits along my neck are clamped shut after a year without seawater and my head fins stick to my scalp like barnacles to rock.

I try to anchor myself with the memory of home, of fine sands and vibrant reefs, but I can barely recall the rush of the warm current or the thrill of the hunt. Even a single wrasse sounds like a feast now. Or a few human fingers.

At least I can still smell the sharp brine of the ocean. When the ship rocks, the small, circular window to my left reveals the sea rolling in an endless stretch of deep blue, begging me to return. The silhouette of an approaching vessel forms a blur on its horizon.

I squint at the hazy shape, but Captain Kian’s roar of irritation from an upper deck makes me recoil. My captor’s harsh voice is so loud it seems to shudder its way down my spine.

The new vessel leaves my sight as the ship I’m captive on—the Oyster—turns toward it. The steam stacks clatter to life somewhere beneath me. Fabric and metal wings stretch out from the sides of the Oyster, and the ship bursts forward, riding just above the crests of the waves.

The sudden change in speed shoves me backward, tossing up my putrid water. As the liquid recoils, it grazes my largest tail fin, lying limp over the far edge of the tub. For all the pain I suffer, I nearly forget my tail exists, its iridescent gleam washed away by the filth and grime of the tub. It must still be impaired from the massive, anchor-like weight my captor crushed it beneath when she first locked me here. I can’t bring myself to focus on its lifeless form for long. I wasn’t meant for this.

I need the sea.

Purchase the full novel on amazon, bookdepository, or kobo, or request it from your local library!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #authors on tumblr #writing help #writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writers on writing #amwriting #creative writing

476 notes · View notes

btsslowburnfic · 4 years ago

Text

Chthonic Love Chapter 2

Series Summary: Greek AU Yoongi/Hades x You/Persephone. The Olympic Lord, Namjoon kidnaps you as a "gift" for his brother, ruler of the Underworld. Lord of Death: Yoongi.

Chapter 1 found Here

----------------------------------

You stood there for a moment in absolute disbelief. You already hated most of the Olympian Gods who used mortals and lesser deities as their playthings all the time. And now here you were, in the Underworld of all places. Why?

"Um excuse me miss," you heard the woman by the door say. "I'm sure you are still very upset and terribly uncomfortable, but I do have my orders. I hope you understand."

You looked over at her empathetically. No one chose to stay in the Underworld, she clearly was as trapped as you were. "Yes of course. Please, lead me to my chambers." you bowed your head as you followed Lethe out of the throne room. What a fucking day. You thought. You tried to keep track of where you were going in case you decided to try and escape on your own.

"And down that way is the kitchen. I'm not sure what Goddesses from the mortal realm eat but I'm sure we can find you something. If you head that way," she gestured up a set of stairs to the left, "you'll find the library."

"Thank you. I'm sure I won't be here for very long." you said to her. She turned and gave you a patronizing look.

"Well you are a Goddess so maybe someone will come get you out of here. But if you have any thoughts of escaping you'd best put them to rest. Many have tried and all have failed. It might not seem like it today, but there are much worse places you could be than a palace in the Underworld."

You bit your tongue and took her words into consideration.

" Ah, here. This will do. "she said as she opened a large obsidian door with intricate silver carvings in it.

"Is this the furthest room from Lord Yoongi's?" you asked without thinking. You ran your hand down the beautiful inscription.

Lethe chuckled." No. But I'm tired of walking and it's not like he's going to check." you turned your head and your eyes widened. “What? You're not going to tell on me are you? This is a very nice room." She crossed her hands in front of her chest.

Despite your attempt to suppress it, a smile crept across your lips. “Of course not. Thank you. This will do for tonight."

“Will there be anything else m'lady?"

"No. Thank you Lethe." You turned and walked into the room. It was sparsely decorated but quite large. An empty fireplace was carved into the stone as well as a set of window seats on either side. A medium sized bed and wardrobe were in the room, covered in a layer of dust. You cringed slightly and conjured a light breeze, you opened a window and sent the dust particles out into the sky. Your powers weren’t very impressive without a living specimen.

You sighed and walked over to the now open window. You were slightly surprised the windows weren't barred.

From your window you saw the black sand dunes and Stygian Sea. You had heard stories about this place your whole life and while they captured the desolate nature of the land, they had failed to.mention its beauty. The Sea ebbed and flowed like liquid black glass, the sea foam of the mortal realm nowhere to be found. The sand dunes were almost pure black, like Night herself had spilled out into the expanse. You began to turn back to your room when movement caught your eye. You saw the silhouette of the man you had seen earlier walking across the plane. The solitary figure exuded absolute control over this dominion as he approached the Sea. You found yourself unable to take your eyes off of him, his long black cloak waving in the breeze and his pale hands cutting a sharp contrast to the surrounding landscape.

You watch him raise his arms and then you see the faint green glow appear across the water. Ships of the Dead. It was one thing to hear about the transition that humans went through when they left the mortal plane, it was another to see them approach their final resting place.

You saw Yoongi raise his hands and direct the ships. He looked up towards the castle. There was no way he could see you, and yet you felt seen. You suddenly felt like you were intruding on something quite private. You turned your back and closed the window.

-----

Yoongi had left his throne room feeling angry and flustered. He prided himself on his sense of control. He immediately headed to his study and slammed the door behind him. He took a few deep breaths. I control my emotions, they do not control me. He repeated to himself several times while breathing deeply. Even if my brother is a fucking idiot. He sat down and rolled his head side to side. What to do with Persephone. She was right. She was the Spring Goddess; she didn't belong in the underworld. He would need to find out more about this bet and the contract. And Hoseok. He didn't know how though; the other Gods didn't come this way. He sighed. He would have to figure something out. The poor woman was frightened of him and he'd made it worse by putting his cursed hands on her. He looked down at them and shuddered. That's what the mortals said. That he was the one who killed them. His hands were unclean. He was the despised and unwanted God. Yoongi took a deep breath out. No. He hadn't killed since the Titan Wars and he'd never killed a mortal.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drive the self-hatred away. Fuck this day. He grabbed his cloak and decided to head to the beach early. He was the Lord of the Underworld, he could still do something right around here.

As much as it irritated him he found himself wondering about Persephone. He wondered where in the castle she ended up. Yoongi knew Lethe was kind and likely would not have actually put her that far away from the atrium of the castle. Although they weren't kidding when they said they weren't prepared for guests. Other than Namjoon popping in from time to time to start shit, no one had ever come to visit him. He wandered over towards the shore. She had looked so frightened and so helpless. He lifted his arms to summon the Ships. And he had made it worse for her. The dead began to sail towards him. He laughed sadly to himself. A companion? Who was Namjoon kidding? He guided the ships to the estuary. He looked up to the castle for the second time today and this time he swore he could see Persephone looking down at the shore towards him. He started to feel something inside him stirring but as soon as he blinked, she was gone. He must have imagined it.

"Open the gate Min Holly. You're a good boy."

----------

You paced around your room for a while. There is absolutely nothing to do. You sigh and take a seat on one of the window benches. Fucking Zeus. No. Namjoon. You’re not going to call your kidnapper by his Lordly title. You pouted; your brother would surely come for you. You’re surprised he hasn’t already to be honest. You look out to the horizon. You can’t tell if it’s day or night. It feels as though you’ve been here for a few hours but you have no way of knowing how long you were unconscious. Should you be freaking out instead of being bored? Maybe. But after sobbing from confusion and anger in the throne room you did not feel like you were in particular danger. Lord Yoongi had seemed more annoyed than menacing and you had been escorted to a guest room rather than the dungeon. You swished your dress back and forth in front of the mirror. You definitely looked like you had been kidnapped. Even though you knew it was silly and vain, you took the moss out of your hair and braided it. There. Much more like the Goddess of Spring, you thought as you raised your chin and walked over to the door and turned the handle. It opened easily, leading out to the hallway Lethe had escorted you through earlier. You quietly closed the bedroom door behind you. No one had told you that you had to stay put. You wander back towards the throne room. You hadn't visited many palaces but you knew that this one was desolate by comparison. Most castles were constantly bustling with activity and full of courtiers. You poked your head into the throne room. Nothing. No one. Just a throne carved into the obsidian walls. You entered, your feet barely making any noise on the stone floor. The rooms in the palace were all lit by an ethereal blue flame that provided light but little heat. You found yourself shivering as you completed your circle around the room.

You exited and walked through the giant set of double doors across the hallway. This would be considered the Great Hall at any other palace. You could only tell by the sheer size and the tapestries hanging down from the ceiling. There were a few servants milling about, looking about as bored as you felt.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the guest quarters?” you heard a voice. You jumped in surprise and turned towards it. A male servant, dressed nicer than the others and with an air of authority, had walked over to you and stood there looking like he had seen a ghost.

You straighten up, “I did go to the guest quarters. They were dreadfully boring so now I’m here.”

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other. “Are you going to escort me back to my quarters?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips.

“Umm...no I suppose I haven’t been ordered to do that.” he puts his hands behind his back and starts to turn around.

“Has Lord Yoongi returned yet?” you ask.

The man sighed as though you were asking him a most difficult question, but he does answer it, “Yes. He is in his office now. I’m on my way to give him my daily report.”

“Most excellent. Please take me with you. I have much to discuss with him now that I have settled in for the evening.” you began to follow him.

He stopped and widened his eyes at you. “I do not think that would be prudent m’lady. It’s only been a few hours since you arrived. Perhaps there is something else you could find to occupy your time.”

You stopped and looked into his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Persephone. Goddess of Spring. Harbinger of Winter. It’s so nice to meet you.” You stand there waiting for him to do the same.

The man lets out a tired sigh. “Yes m’lady of course. I am Penthos, the Chief Steward. I will do as you wish Goddess, although I do still advise against it.”

Your lips pressed together in a thin, firm line. “Your concern is noted. Please lead the way.”

"Very well but the Master does not like to be disturbed.” he said as he exited the hall with you following. You rolled your eyes as Penthos led you up a sweeping staircase. He knocked on the door, a low grumble responded indicating he could open the door.

"M’Lord." Penthos announced himself.

Yoongi didn't even look up from the parchment he is writing on, “Yes Penthos? Anything of note today?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat hoping for Lord Yoongi to look up, but to no avail." No sir. Other than your brother appearing and bringing a woman here against her will to be held captive, it's been a very normal day around here." Penthos remarks dryly.

Yoongi smiles while still looking down. You noticed how it instantly made him look so much younger. “Well I suppose that it has been a more eventful day than usual."

You realized that Penthos had no intention of introducing you, "Excuse me, the captive would like to have a word m'lord." your soft voice cut through the room

Yoongi froze. His quill dropped down onto the paper. He slowly raised his head and looked up at you. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked over to Penthos. “Penthos, thank you for bringing Lady Persephone here. You may leave.”

“I am sorry sir. I know you don’t like to be disturbed but she commanded me as a Goddess so I felt like I had to.” he said, daring to look fearfully over at you. Your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“I introduced myself to you and asked you to bring me here.” you retorted.

“That’s enough Penthos. As long as Lady Persephone is a guest here, you should treat her with respect and listen to her.” Yoongi waved his hand, dismissing this conversation as he returned to his parchment. It was Penthos’ turn to look at you. You raised your eyebrows in a “see?” gesture. You turned back towards the desk, “Thank you Lord Yoongi. Your kindness is most appreciated.” you responded with a slight curtsy.

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he grumbles from his desk.

You heard Penthos scoff as he exited the room.

“That seems so improper my Lord,” you lightly protested.

“Suit yourself. My realm, my rules.” he said, puffing out his cheeks and scribbling on the paper.

You looked around the study. This room clearly got used more than the throne room or the hall. The fireplace here was lit and there were cloaks and furs strewn about. Pages of filled parchment were all around the desk with books piled on both the shelves and the floor. A lyre and harpsichord were both against the back wall. You realized you have been standing there for several minutes just gawking at the room. Yoongi hadn’t said anything yet, still writing on his parchment. You sighed and looked for somewhere to sit. There was nowhere that you could see so you grabbed one of the furs and placed it in front of the fire, having a seat next to the blue flame.

Yoongi looked up from his paper. Until you moved, he had forgotten that you were there to be honest, he was lost in his own world. He saw you sitting next to the fireplace and found himself thinking you didn’t look so out of place here after all. He cleared his throat, “I apologize. As I mentioned before, my realm is not used to accommodating guests. I could find a chair for you if you wish.”

A King apologizing to you? You almost laughed at how strange it was, “No. This is fine, thank you. There are a few things I wanted to discuss with you if you have time.”

He placed his quill back in it’s holder and moved the parchment aside. He looked over at you, his face such a careful mixture between Godlike beauty and eternal sadness it rendered you momentarily unable to speak.

“You may speak freely here, Persephone.” he encouraged you, breaking you from your trance.

“Thank you. Firstly, is there a way to communicate with the mortal realm? I’m sure I’m bound here for some reason, which I would also like to know more about, but I would at least like my brother to know I’m ok. Is there any way you could do that?”

Yoongi blinked a few times. He was amazed you were here at all. He was certain you would be angrily crying in your room or plotting an escape or something. He never expected you to just calmly come and sit on the floor of his office, wrapped in one of his furs looking so beautiful. Wait, you had asked him a question. He sat there and tried to remember what you had asked but he just couldn’t. “I’m so sorry. What did you say?” his face turned red.

“My brother, Hoseok. I’m sure he is worried about me and I would like to let him know I’m ok.”

Yoongi thought for a moment, leaning back in his chair. “Ah yes, as you can imagine, not a lot of visitors from the Mortal Realm or Olympus pass through. I can’t leave here. I mean, physically I can, but my job,” he gestured to the window, “the dead would start to stack up and it would just be a mess. I can try to send a message through Charon though.”

“The ferryman?” you responded as you rubbed your hands together, wishing the blue flames put out heat.

“You are familiar with Chthonic culture?” Yoongi sits back in his seat surprised.

“Only a little. We had to pick between studying Olympus or the Underworld and I chose the Underworld.”

An almost imperceptible grin flashed across his face. “I imagine it’s not a popular topic.” he surmised.

You shrugged, “It seemed more interesting to me.”

“Are you cold?” he asked, as he noticed you rubbing your hands together and curling your knees to your chest.

“Yes. I’m the Goddess of Spring and my brother is like sunshine incarnate. I’m not used to...this,” you gestured to the air.

Yoongi raised a hand towards the fire and turned the blue flames red.

“Thank you. I wasn’t dressed properly for my visit to the Underworld.” you smirked.

Yoongi laughed at this, “You’re taking your kidnapping quite well. Shouldn’t you be plotting your escape?”

“Who says I’m not?” you raised your eyebrows at him and for a second you saw his expression change back to the same one you had seen when you first entered; eternal sadness. “I suppose I should be in my room crying but it was just so boring in there, and if I cry too much my face gets puffy and itchy. Besides, it’s not like you kidnapped me. I don’t think,” you turned to look at him. “You didn’t ask Namjoon to kidnap me did you?”

“Definitely not.” Yoongi stated as he pulled out fresh parchment and ink. “Apparently your brother made some sort of bet with Namjoon and you were the collateral.”

“Hoseok would never--!” you began, outraged.

“Yes yes, I’m sure it was my brother being a bastard and using some sort of wording to trick him. I don’t know the details. He brought you here and then literally dropped you onto my throne room floor. That’s all I know for now. Hopefully you can write to your brother and get more information.” he stood up and gestured to the parchment. “I can give this to Charon tonight if you’d like me to.”

“Oh really?” you said, eagerly looking over to the page. “You'll let me do that?”

Yoongi sighed, “Of course. I try to not make keeping people as hostages a habit.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you said as you swung your legs underneath you to stand up. You felt like your one leg has pins and needles in it from sitting on the ground and you began to stumble. Yoongi stepped over and grabbed your elbow to steady you. He immediately thought back to earlier when you told him not to touch you and reached his hand back almost violently.

You didn’t even notice, “Thanks.” you smiled at him as you walked over to the desk and sat down. “I just meant I didn’t think you would be so nice.” Yoongi felt that same feeling from earlier; something in his chest beginning to untether itself. He stood behind you as you sat at his office chair, finding himself admiring how the red flames illuminated your face. He watched your delicate hand dip the quill into the ink jar and begin to write.

“No one has ever called me nice before,” he quietly said.

You pause thoughtfully, unaware of how much your passing comment meant to him. “Well that’s just because you don’t get any visitors down here. You are definitely one of the nicest Gods I’ve met. And I have met so so so many of them.”

“You don’t care for the Olympians?” he asked even though it was obvious.

“Being a minor deity I should really refrain from commenting,” you responded as you write your brother’s name at the top of the paper.

Yoongi leaned closer to you. “I told you to speak freely here Persephone.” You felt his breath on your ear and you suddenly became extremely aware of how close his mouth was to your body. You knew what you were about to say was heresy but something inside of you wanted so deeply to meet his challenge you allowed yourself to say it. “I fucking hate them.” you took a steadying breath, “And I hate your brother most of all.”

You felt him even closer this time, he whispered into your ear, “That’s a secret we both share.” You shivered, but not from the cold.

Yoongi smirked for a moment, watching as you began to write your letter. The Goddess of Spring was full of surprises. NEXT CHAPTER

#bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts yoongi x reader #bts suga x you #bts au fanfic #bts scenarios #bts suga #bts yoongi

38 notes · View notes

wordynerdygurl · 5 years ago

Text

Birth the Stars

Author’s Note: Hello all! So, this story is shamelessly and selfishly just for me. It’s my birthday, you see, and I was inspired by @sherrybaby14 and her delightful Loki birthday wish story. Should you like it, as usual, leave some love! Tag lists, asks and requests are open! P.S. The gif is beautiful and I thank the OP! P.P.S. I will be on vacation for the next week, so, no planned posts, but I’ll make it up to you! Promise! Summary: Your special day coincides with a cosmic event and Loki helps you celebrate it grand fashion. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: SMUT, just sweet birthday SMUT

How could you describe something that no earthly words were designed for?

Through the massive glass shield you had an expansive view of the galaxy unfolding in burning stars and kaleidoscopic clouds. Clouds that came in every color Crayola could possibly conceive, and a few they would never believe, curled closer, lit from behind by the strength of a foreign sun.

Scientifically, you understood that it was gas and dust and light bending, blending, to create the spectacle you were staring at, slack jawed. But seeing it? Watching it rise on the unending horizon of space from the security of Loki's state room was something else entirely. And you were lost in wonder.

"Glorious, is it not?" Sneaking in on silent feet, his handsome face reflected in the glass, Loki offered you a small smile. His voice is silky and soft, reverent and respectful of your contemplative quiet.

Your nod is barely perceptible, "I… I can't bear to look away. It's magnificent."

Feeling his masculine presence at your back, blue eyes on you, "Magnificent… truly."

Sighing sweetly, stepping closer to the protective crystal window, "I'm talking about the nebula."

A hand skates over your hip, hugging your curves through the layers of your frock. The other brushes lightly over your bare shoulder, fingers toying with the strap, and you cover them with your own.

"I am not."

Acknowledging him with a slight bow, "You, dearest, are just as rare…" Loki's soft lips press against that tender place behind your ear as you tilt your head, "Just as beautiful…" Now your jaw, "and more than magnificent."

Seeing your smile in reflection, "Liar."

"Me? I would never!" His mock innocence makes you chuckle which Loki uses to his advantage, shamelessly. Lacing his fingers through yours, Loki gently pulls your arms between your bodies, effectively pinning you against your window to other worlds.

Standing there, breathing synced with Loki's, you lose yourself in the incredible view. So easily lost to the streaks of stardust swirling in space, as if the ancient arcs of light and color were a painting hung in the sky of Creation's museum, "On Earth, it takes eight minutes for the light of the sun to reach the planet, the people… Did you know that?"

Sensing his head shake, continuing, "How many light years ago did this nebula begin, I wonder? How long does it take to bring a star… a galaxy into the world?"

Those lips, his lips, trailed over you making strategic stops along the nape of your neck. Brushing over your tight tendon, his sharp teeth nip at the junction, your cooing response music to Loki's ears. "Making something so… perfect takes time, love. Which reminds me. Do you know what today is, dearest?"

Still looking out at the scenery, you shake your head, "Loki, since coming aboard I have lost track of so many things… the month, the day, the time… my sense of modesty."

Raising his eyebrow with a sly smirk, "I like to think I helped with that last one…"

"Oh, most definitely! But, sorry, no… I don't know what day it is."

Wrapping your hands around Loki's trim figure, his back to your chest, grounds you to this place. To him. But it's true that your world has gone topsy turvy since Loki entered your life. You haven't missed the way things were, instead, enjoying the amazing moments only a person like Loki could offer had become your new normal.

Things like a front row seat to the ever expanding universe. It startled you and delighted you. So like the man you loved.

"It is your birthday, my darling. And everyone is waiting now to celebrate with you."

Cheeks turning crimson, you burrowed further into Loki's arms, "No! Is it really?"

"Yes… really."

"Good thing someone was keeping track…", you answer softly.

Stepping snuggly against you, Loki's chin to your collarbone, "Just think, you and this cluster of stars will share a birthday."

Another twinkling laugh escapes you at the idea of billions of brilliant brothers and sisters. Deepening silence returns as a streak of yellow collapses into a flash of green, swirling into teals before pulsing purple. "Intergalactic fireworks for your special day, sweetling."

Shivering at the awe inspiring sight before you and the nearness of the God behind, Loki hums huskily, "Cold?"

Still gazing into the cosmos, "My dress isn't terribly thick."

"But it is lovely. Perfect for tonight…" Layers of gauzy chiffon in emerald and mint flowed from the thin straps tied at your shoulders. It was a gown without a waist, falling in waves to the floor, after accentuating your abundant bust, of course.

Whining, just a little, "I had almost forgotten about tonight. What time is it?"

"Early still." Wandering hands trail up your arms, caressing the roundness of your shoulders, kissing each one in turn. A strong hand turns your chin, your mouth parting for Loki's, his tongue eagerly licking over your bottom lip.

Deepening the kiss, Loki kept you from turning into his arms, instead his hips held you in place. "Keep watching, little dove. Put your hands on the glass, like this."

Bending at the elbow, Loki folded your forearms forward, fingers spread. The glass is smooth and cool to the touch. Crowding into you, trapping your body like a butterfly on display, Loki's hold on you tightened. His mouth, suddenly savage, sampled the sugared skin of your neck, swept over your clavicle, stroked the shell of your ear.

Whimpering in want, forced focus on the star nursery expanding ahead of you, your head rested back on Loki's chest. "It is creation… that glowing swirl of color in the distance. Hot and cold, dark and light, all of those… contrasts colliding."

Slim fingers fidget with your dress. First the right tie drops, the weight of your gown shifting to to the left, throwing you off balance for a beat. Loki's palm falls to your freed breast, his skin warm compared to the space chilled glass in front of you. Moaning, the startling difference between your gossamer garb, his petting paw and the chilled wall is suddenly too much.

The second strap lets go and your fancy shift puddles at your feet with a sigh. Loki covers your exposed chest with his hands, kneading your sensitive globes in a way that walks the line between too hard and not hard enough. His iron chest leans into your back as your tender nipples harden against the window, held down by the exquisite weight of Loki's lean body on your own.

"Loki… I… What if…?"

Cutting you off with a husk, "Hush… there's no one to see you but me. And infinity."

Feather light, Loki's touch scorches down your ribs. At the swell of your hips he hooks your flimsy panties at the waist, tugging them down to your knees. "Spread your legs for me kitten. That's it. Just like that."

Boxed in, nowhere to hide your body, your want, he grants you enough room to accommodate his wayward wandering hands. Maybe you should feel shame at being so casually exhibited to the expanding universe. But you don't.

What you do feel is powerful. It's as if you are manifesting the molecules which are dancing in that disco ball of unimaginable energy, calling them to you, bringing forth a million stars and with them a thousand planets. It is life! It is beautiful. And it is terrifying.

Loki's fingers find your silky slit, spreading your saucy excitement over your straining bud. Circling you in slow, simple, strokes your body starts to sing. Simpering, you're breathing in short gasps, fogging the glass in front of you and distorting the stellar symphony of light and color beyond your vessel.

Using his unoccupied hand to tangle your short hair, Loki pulls your head back from the window, attaching his hungry mouth to your throat. His fingers grind against your firm clitoris, intent on releasing your sexual tension. Cold, so cold, your collapsed breasts are sensitive and screaming for respite.

As you are forced to feel all of this competing stimulus, the fibers of your feminine form have compressed closer and closer and closer together. Just like the nebulous cluster before you, to grow you must crack, shatter into a galaxy of glowing gaseous orbs. Expanding, your excitement is matched by the spreading of stellar space dust, colors swirling as Loki's digits dance deliciously.

His own breathing hitches as your body vibrates under his hands. You can't face him, he's too close, the clear glass ensures that. So you have to endure hot kisses on your chilled cheeks, your icy shoulders, your cool clavicle. When he sucks on the base of your neck, you hiss, pushing your hips forward, seeking more. Undone, Loki's teeth break through the thin barrier of your skin with a flash of pain.

Your ecstasy explodes from deep within. Sweaty palms slide down the see through barrier, barely supporting your weight. Legs shaking, you flood over Loki's fingers and your thighs, grateful for his Godly strength, his sturdy support.

He lingers, letting you catch your breath, his strong hand resting over yours as if together you could reach out and capture the haze of colors in the clouds rolling by. It takes you a moment to come back to yourself, trembling at the power of your pleasure, overcome by the intimacy of Loki's attention. Shivering, goosebumps break over your bare arms.

Pulling you back into his chest, Loki rubs his hands across you, warming you. Dropping low, he lifts your panties, placing them on your hips where they started. As you struggle to calm your racing heart Loki glides your gown back over your bruised bosom, "Can you hold this, darling?" And with your help the straps of your dress are tied properly once more.

Tearing your eyes from the fiery furnace of creation in front of you, your head rolls onto Loki's chest, "Wow..."

You spin in his arms, molding yourself to him, staring up at Loki, the chaotic center of your own galaxy. Finding your dewy mouth eager and accepting, ready for his talented tongue, Loki kissed you deeply. Curling your hands into his raven locks, returning to Loki all of the pleasing passion he had given to you, and soon your body was craving more.

"Hmm… we have to stop now. People will come looking for us."

His voice was ragged from pleasure denied, something that pleased you greatly, so you purred, "Let them look!"

Sliding your hands up Loki's chest, he grabbed your wrists, "Oh, darling! There will be time for that later."

"Promise?" Wiggling against him, teasing Loki shameless had your smiling.

Pressing a kiss to each of your palms, releasing his grip, "Promise."

When you stepped back, smiling, Loki whispered, "Happy Birthday, sweetling."

And it was.

--- Tag Team: @just-random-obsessions @iamverity @brokenthelovely @nonsensicalobsessions @archy3001 @rorybutnotgilmore @vodka-and-some-sass @mizfit2 @jamielea81 @jessiejunebug @alexakeyloveloki @procrastinatinglikeabitch @thefallenbibliophilequote @lots-of-loki

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki birthday #loki smut #loki fanfic #mcu smut #hot loki #space loki

230 notes · View notes

atrayo · 3 years ago

Text

Channeled Angelic Wisdom of the Jewels of Truth Series and Favorite Quotes of the Month of September

Hello All,

I always have the bad habit of waiting until the tail end of the month to make a channeled angelic entry here to Atrayo's Oracle. Since I'm also a PC gamer I'm also tied into enjoying the retail release of Amazon's Game Studio of New World come this Sept. 28th. I'll be gaming with my online gamer community of 17 years now that I've been a member of online. They're called "The Older Gamers" one has to be over the age of 25 yrs old to become a member. I'll be the guild leader for the US/EU branch on an East Coast North American server. (shameless gamer plug)

Tonight's trio of Jewels of Truth statements is channeled angelic wisdom, metaphysics, and mysticism. On the topics of a Multi-Dimensional Soul where I channel a historical figure named Josephus the old. Next, there is To Be the I Am which dispels one of the pet peeves I hear often in New Age circles. Where innocently someone remarks we're born into this reality just to learn and grow like this realm is an elementary school for souls. I roll my eyes when I hear this due to my cultivated relationship as an angelic channeler via claircognizance. (claircognizance is the psychic ability to channel knowledge and wisdom beyond one's lifetime.)

Lastly, the final topic is a zinger on two counts! It's titled the Younger Dominions of God. Where not unlike the metaphysical author of Neal Donald Walsch of "Conversations with God" a famous book series. I also channel this statement from God him/her/itself, which I've done on past occasions. This topic blew my mind when it flashed before my mind's eye as an inspiration. Basically, our Creation and the afterlife of heaven and hell are the godly early forms of the Supreme God of all gods Absolute. Meaning these are the terrible two's, tween years, and teenage raging hormone years on a human equalivent scale of God itself.

The Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer of Macro Supreme Realities dimensionally speaking. These realms of ours of the endless Infinite hells, Creation (ie our Meta-Universe), and the Majestic Heavens are the stratification of the evolutionary growth of God in a meta sense if compared to maturation. These realms astral or otherwise are the goldilocks years of God(dess) akin to a nursery for all souls, angelic kind, including elder angels. As the lesser deities of countless faiths or dead religions as mythologies to us in our modernity.

Before I go too deep on the topic allow me to just write down the channeling from the Creator him/her/itself.

Also, a shout out to Tessa Luna Lluvia my original online mentor as an expert psychic-medium. She's kindly listed my books of the Jewels of Truth Series on her website. (bottom 8th row of the book listings)

As always no matter if these topics seem too fringe for your imaginations and spiritual belief systems. Allow them to just kindly expand your horizons of the immense grandeur of God Everlasting. Amen.

Multi-Dimensional Souls

3081) Here are the many fields of splendor possible within the grasp of the human condition by far. Nay beyond humanity itself can this spectrum of countless possibilities co-exist to exemplify all lifeforms in unison as Children of a Living God(dess). What I "Josephus the Old" will explain is that the godly soul of all spiritual beings when incarnated experiences a buffer of contrasts when alive on Earth.

For example, when a person commits wrongdoing as grotesque evils. That reincarnated soul as an individual entity has siphoned poorly from the evils metaphysically from the godless Hells, hereto unknown to humanity. Again another primitive example is a godly pious person of righteousness does good in the world without seeking high praises of whatnots. That individual spiritual entity of God has channeled the God Blessed Heavens robustly and directly upon this Earth. Whether this happens unwittingly or not.

The final example is whether a person is neutral and allows good or evil to flourish without personal involvement regardless of what occurs. Such a soul enters into a form of Limbo upon the world swayed easily without guile or reservation as a direct cause and effect. Akin to a sub-set of Karma upon the earth reality sphere of governing elements metaphysically.

The trio of the fates as conundrums of paradoxical fits and starts are prevailing winds of the afterlife set upon all mortal kind be it human or otherwise as creatures. With direct inputs and outputs upon the world and the meta-universes be they cosmic or of a metaphysical unholy/neutral/holy matrix of experiences as existential realities go.

To this end do not allow the oversimplification of these crude examples to paint only a black, gray, and white picture as a canvas of these meta-realities. There is a relativistic spectrum of contrasts akin to manifold kaleidoscopes of endless pigments of possibilities. As configurations of good, neutrality, and evil encompass universally as archetypes of behavior in all lesser Universes combined!

We have exhausted our range or scope of expressions without first mentioning as all souls are in the One Supreme Loving Image and Likeness of God. Denotes all Souls as a united continuum are multifaceted dimensionally as metaphysical entities before being people with physical bodies with an aura upon your current age or eon of your Earth.

As God(dess) is everything as Omni-Present denotes your souls in God are also everywhere God is forever. No matter you as the lesser children of God realize this in your global religions or not. It makes your magicks work as expressions of divinity constantly. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo. (Channeled Source Entity of Josephus the Old.)

To Be the I Am:

3083) Many in New Age spiritual circles inquire from fellow advanced participants and elders what is Life? Most respond with confidence that it is a school for young souls to evolve and grow further. This canned response is only partially true, however, it is incomplete in its scope of a response generically.

Life and Death as contrasting phenomena are far richer than such a one-dimensional interpretation of our spiritual unified reality with God(dess), and the Heavenly Host Infinitely meets at large always and forever. There are actually seven dimensions of spiritual being, if not more overall as archetypes of a universal basis of our united divinity with God(dess).

For Instance, the aforementioned scope of Life as a school is true but as one dimension so as to learn and grow as eternal souls having a human experience. Next in no particular order of grace of any of these roles is to Love like God(dess) and the Angels. Unconditionally in moderation so as to avoid fanaticism or zealotry as obsessive traits of passion and/or of true love.

Next comes to be of Service in moderation not necessarily as a selfless saint or angel that lives to extremes. However, to cultivate humanity or divinity on Earth with mutual compassion and empathy for those in need or of want. To serve in a volunteer capacity versus being employed in commercial industries denotes a deeper form of caring.

To be just as civilized and law-abiding or hospitable in the world. Followed closely with having a noble personality of character as benevolent in the human-divine holy nature like God and the Angels in the endless Heavens.

Next is to create or destroy like God in the universe. If destroy is too strong a negative connotation then let it be to uproot, erase, or recycle like God at the human micro-scale of being alive. As God(dess) is the Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer of macro realities en masse by Infinite scales and over the corridor of eternities.

The last two dimensional roles go hand in hand as fellowship or socialization with positive impacts of compassionate norms be it caring for one another as God has cared for each of us. Lastly to worship Inclusively like God(dess) as an unceasing with positive moderation with mutual respect and adoration to positive foreign beliefs and other cultural traditions of God in our shared world. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Younger Dominions of God:

3080) To the one that reads these simple words come away with a wider understanding of what "I am that I am" is as the Constant Creator, God of all Totalities United! What "I am" is not simple but complex beyond human total comprehension. So in childish terms of "I am" is utilized all around for all levels of basic comprehension as my living beautiful souls.

What you call as Creation as a meta-construct of reality as the Universe(s), Galaxies, Solar Systems, etc... This is merely one of my countless younger expressions of my Ultimate Majestic godly nature, fully seeped upon material physicality and so much greater yet still.

What humanity denotes as the afterlife of Hell as the underworld. The neutral reality of metaphysical limbo or purgatory as either a realm of heightened enlightenment or for the uninitiated as numbing detachment as apathy. With the stupendous exalted Heavens are all grade school versions of my adolescent corpus of my total Supreme Creation as the Absolute Self.

The Infinite and timeless Hells, Limbos, Creations, and Heavens are each stratum of my youthful forms of expressions. As the Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer of cosmic and ethereal realms of pure totalities of "I am" essence and personified substances. For To Be the I am that I am as the God of all gods plural in a Supreme Fashion has other greater dominions of realism. Each by far beyond the rudimentary tenure of my youth as the Hells, Limbos, Creation(s), and the Heavens can contain forever as my meta corpus.

For example, every dominion where good, neutrality, and evil are located is a moot point having never existed prior. There is no such power struggle of contrasts of differences. A Uni-polar reality versus a multi-polar existence of Principles that tranquility reigns constantly. Only in the realms of my godly youth does contrast stand out in stark terms of the illusion of a good versus evil approach as an eternal useless struggle.

In my youth like environs of ethereal and otherwise physical existence goes. That my younger created lesser children such as humanity and other permutations of my infinity of expressions. Truly mirror my existential struggles of archaic yesterdays as eternities of long ago. I have matured far greater and this creates, sustains, and destroys for another set of challenges and opportunities elsewhere in my Meta-Verse of cosmic and ethereal Superiority as the Apex God of all gods. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo. (Channeled Source as God(dess)

You can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in. ---Junot Diaz.

Nature is not a place to visit, It is home. ---Gary Snyder.

Grace is the ability to redefine the boundaries of possibility. ---Manning Marable.

One of life's most fulfilling moments occurs in the split-second when the familiar is suddenly transformed into the dazzling aura of the profoundly new. ---Edward B. Lindaman.

What you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are. ---C.S. Lewis.

Ivan "Atrayo" Pozo-Illas, has devoted 26 years of his life to the pursuit of clairaudient Inspired automatic writing channeling the Angelic host. Ivan is the author of the spiritual wisdom series of "Jewels of Truth" consisting of 3 volumes published to date. He also channels conceptual designs that are multi-faceted for the next society to come that are solutions based as a form of dharmic service. Numerous examples of his work are available at "Atrayo's Oracle" blog site of 16 years plus online. You're welcome to visit his website "Jewelsoftruth.us" for further information or to contact Atrayo directly.

#Jewels of Truth #Atrayo's Oracle #Ivan Pozo-Illas #Angels #God #Josephus #psychic #channeler #spirit guides #spiritual teacher #spiritualwisdom #spirituality #metaphysics #mysticism #To Be the I am #Multi-dimensional Souls #Younger Dominions of God

1 note · View note

sunriserose1023 · 4 years ago

Text

Frayed Edges

WARNINGS: Explosion, painful remembering, angst, emotional crap WORD COUNT: 4561 AUTHOR’S NOTE: Some of you figured out some little hints I was trying to drop. The story’s really starting to pick up steam now, and I can’t wait to see what you think about this part.

MASTERLIST

You closed your eyes as you yawned, shaking your head as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You lifted the steaming cup to your lips, inhaling the dark scent, taking a sip. You made a face, setting the cup down, turning to see a man standing beside you with an amused smile on his face.

“May I suggest some cream or sugar?” “Brilliant suggestion.”

The man gave a quiet chuckle, stepping aside and motioning his arm towards the table behind the two of you. You nodded and gave him a smile as you studied the packets on the table.

“Not a fan of coffee, Miss Ross?” “I’m beginning to think not.”

The man stepped beside you, reaching out and handing you a tiny cup of creamer.

“A few of these should do the trick.”

A soft smile came to your face when you read the hazelnut caramel label. You lifted your eyes to the dark ones next to you and shook your head.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t—“ “That’s quite alright. We met a long time ago.”

He held out a hand as he introduced himself.

“T’Challa.”

You set your hand in his, shaking it and opening your mouth, but your father stepped up behind you, laying a hand against your back as he gave a slight bow to the man in front of you.

“Your Highness.”

Your eyes widened as T’Challa nodded at your father, smiling at you and lifting your hand to his lips before he stepped away. You shook your head as you turned back to face your dad.

“‘Your Highness?’”

Thaddeus nodded as he moved to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“That was crown prince T’Challa of the African nation of Wakanda. His father, King T’Chaka, is expected to step down from the throne any day now.”

You slowly nodded, opening the packet T’Challa had handed you and dumping it into your cup.

“And we know each other?” “You and T’Challa hit it off at a ball a few years back.”

You nodded again, opening another creamer and pouring it into your cup.

“One of my lost years.”

Thaddeus went still, turning to face you.

“Honey, these people … they understand. They all know what we went through last year.”

You nodded, picking up a little straw and stirring your coffee.

“I just feel terrible about it. People come up and act like we’re old friends and I haven’t the faintest clue of who they even are.”

You shook your head, taking a sip from your coffee, making a face.

“Still not there.”

Thaddeus gave a quiet laugh.

“You’ll need about five more of those creamers, dear.”

“You need to watch yourself. People will notice your eyes on her.”

T’Challa gave his father a smile as he turned around. He spoke in their native language, just as his father had.

“I promised a long time ago that I would watch over her. Protect her, if I can. I’m simply doing a favor for a friend.” “A criminal.” “Baba, you can’t believe that. None of them have done anything wrong. All because the General’s holding a grudge—” “That’s not for us to judge or decide. Come. Let’s take our seats.”

T’Challa sighed, nodding and following his father, glancing back at you as he walked to his seat.

“Honey? I have to take my seat.”

You looked up to your father and nodded. He went to sit in his assigned seat, while you made your way to the back of the room, behind the horde of TV cameras and reporters, a few of whom raised their eyebrows and whispered to each other as you walked past.

You took a deep breath as you started to feel a bit claustrophobic behind all the cameras and people, so you moved to look out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your eyes scanned over the line of news vans, stopping when you saw a man standing across the street. Although you were sure it was impossible, you felt his eyes staring right into yours.

You took in a breath as you recognized him as the same man from the marketplace in Bucharest.

You glanced across the room, seeing your father in deep conversation with the Prime Minister sitting next to him. You made your way to the back wall, hugging it as you walked away from the crowd and out the door. You hurried down the stairs and pushed open the door, breathing a breath of relief when the cool, fresh air hit your face. You made your way to where you’d seen the man, noticing a white news van parked just down the street. You didn’t know why, but it seemed out of place. You lifted a hand to your forehead and sighed, pulling the shawl around your shoulders closer to your body. You turned to go back inside, going still when a hand gently closed around your arm and you felt your blood run cold.

“Don’t scream or do anything out of the ordinary. I’m not going to hurt you. Just walk with me.”

You did as he asked, trying to ignore the way your whole body began to tremble. He looped his arm around your shoulders in a false air of closeness, leading you away from the building crawling with security where the summit was being held.

“Trust me, you’re safer with me than with all of those guards.” “Oh, really?”

He gave a gruff chuckle.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” “How do you know my name?” “Who doesn’t know your name? Daughter of former General-turned-Secretary of State, now got his eyes on the Presidency, Thaddeus Ross. You’re the one that was in a coma for a year.”

You swallowed, turning when the man gently squeezed your shoulder, shaking your head as you spoke softly.

“Who are you?” “Don’t worry about that.” “You’re abducting me in plain sight, but I don’t need to worry?” “I’m not abducting you. I'm trying to save your life.”

Your steps faltered, but his gentle hand on your arm kept you steady, and he kept forcing you to walk.

“What do you mean?”

The two of you walked further down the street before he answered.

“Did you notice that white van across the street from where the summit’s being held?”

You nodded.

“Yeah, it was a news van. Just like the fourteen other ones on the road.” “This one had no markings. It was just a white van, which blended in.”

You stopped, and he turned to face you. You shook your head.

“What does that even mean?”

He opened his mouth, but his words were cut off as an explosion sounded, the reverberations of which sent you flying forward into the man. He caught you as he stumbled back, shifting to lift you into his arms, turning and running down the street. You put your face in his shoulder, effectively hiding until you deduced the two of you had gone into a building and up a few flights of stairs.

You blinked when he set you on your feet, and your shaky legs almost didn’t hold you up. You sat down on the couch you were standing in front of, glancing around the small apartment, nodding when he handed you a bottle of water with the cap already twisted off. You took a drink, then looked up to him.

“What just happened?”

He walked to the window, lifting one of the blinds on his window and glancing through it.

“If I had to make an educated guess … that unmarked van just blew up. Proximity means most of the building you were in will have taken the brunt of the blast. Multiple casualties for sure.”

You swallowed.

“My dad was in there.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“It’d take more than a little bomb to take out Thunderbolt Ross. He’s probably fine.” “Probably?”

He shrugged his massive shoulders and you set the water bottle down on the floor by your feet.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?”

He lifted an eyebrow and glanced back at you as you shook your head.

“If you knew that van would blow, why didn’t you tell someone? There must have been fifty police around.” “It’s complicated.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jesus Christ.”

The man laughed, and you shook your head, scooting to the edge of the couch.

“So what? You decide to rescue me and let all those other people die?” “There probably weren’t that many deaths.” “One is too many!”

He sighed, then turned to face you. The look in his eyes was haunted, and made you take in a breath.

“Death is inevitable. For most people.”

He turned back to the window, having said the last sentence under his breath. You stood to your feet, making your way to him, reaching out a hand. Quicker than you could breathe, he grabbed your hand before you could touch him. Your eyes widened as he let you go, slowly putting space between you as he shook his head.

“The clean up will take a while. They’ll be looking for survivors in the rubble. I’ll take you back before nightfall.” “Wait.”

He didn’t, stepping away from you and out onto the small balcony.

You stood still for a few moments, blinking and swallowing before climbing through the doorway onto the balcony with him. He held a cigarette in one hand, inhaling deeply before exhaling the smoke. He glanced your way before looking back out towards the horizon, and you spoke softly.

“I’m sorry.” “For what?”

You shrugged and he sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Why did you save me?”

He shrugged this time, and you huffed out a breath. A smile played at the edges of his lips and he shook his head.

“You came to me.” “I recognized you from Romania.”

He took another drag and you moved to rest your back against the balcony, facing him. He raised an eyebrow as he looked to you, speaking softly.

“Why’d you come to me?”

You swallowed, shaking your head.

“I don’t know.” “Liar.” “I’m not!”

He gave a husky laugh, stubbing out his cigarette, blowing smoke away from you. He turned to face you and you shook your head.

“Have we ever met?” “No.” “You seem so familiar.” “Maybe I’ve just got one of those faces.” “No, I think I’d remember those eyes.”

His eyebrows raised and you lifted a shoulder. You closed your eyes as a blinding pain shot through your skull, as another pair of blue eyes overtook your vision.

“Y/N? Come on. Stay with me.”

You moaned as you fell, feeling yourself encased in a warm embrace as the man caught you.

“I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

You moaned again as you leaned into him, the smell of tobacco thick in your nostrils. He laid you on the couch and moved away, and after a moment, a cool, damp cloth was pressed to your forehead. He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either, but you did move a shaking hand to rest against his thick thigh. You could almost feel him hesitate before he set his hand on yours, and you gave a shaky exhale as you felt yourself pass out.

“Y/N? Hey.”

You slowly blinked your eyes open, taking in a deep breath as your eyes focused on the man sitting in a chair across from you. He lifted a gloved hand and waved at you and you smiled as you exhaled, closing your eyes again as his raspy voice softly reached your ears.

“How you feeling?” “Like a truck ran over my skull.” “Think you’ll live?”

You snorted, opening one eye to see him smiling at you. You slowly shook your head and he sighed.

“I should probably take you back now.”

You slowly nodded, opening your eyes to see him standing over you, offering you his gloved hands. You set your hands in his and he slowly helped you sit up, murmuring to you when you moaned because of your swimming head.

“Just breathe.” “Okay.”

You did as he asked, leaning into the touch when he moved his hand to your cheek. He murmured something in a language you didn’t understand, and you opened your eyes to see him smiling at you. You shook your head and he winked at you, helping you to your feet.

“What did you say?” “Я понимаю, почему он выбрал тебя. он счастливчик.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t know what that means.” “It’s okay. I do.”

You rolled your eyes, moaning softly when that sent an ache through your skull. You lifted a hand to your head and the man pulled you closer, laying an arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him, looping your arm around his waist, and the two of you slowly walked to the door, then started down the stairs.

“Was that Russian?” “You always this nosy?” “Usually more, but my head hurts.”

You stopped at the bottom of the stairs to catch your breath, and he gently touched your hair.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to help you with that.” “It’s okay.”

You nodded and the two of you started walking again. After a quiet few moments, the man spoke.

“Do you do that often?” “What?” “Get … I don’t know. Migraines?”

You nodded.

“I’m starting to remember some things, and it … it hurts when I do.” “What did you remember this time?”

You swallowed, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, instead of the way you could feel your heartbeat in your skull.

“Eyes.” “Eyes?”

You nodded.

“There’s this man in my … my memories. I don’t know who he is, but he’s important. And now I know he’s got blue eyes.”

The man was quiet beside you, and you spoke softly.

“Not like yours.” “How so?” “Yours are a … an icy, grayish blue. The ones I saw were … darker. Not much, but … more like the ocean.”

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke in his husky tone.

“Sounds dreamy.”

You laughed, squeezing his hip. He gently rubbed his gloved hand up and down your arm, voice pitched low.

“Did you know that plums are supposed to be good for your memory?” “Really?”

He nodded.

“I knew who you were in Bucharest. It’s why I didn’t mind buying you that plum. I thought … I hoped it might help.”

You smiled to yourself, nodding.

“I think it did. Thank you for that.”

He nodded, coming to a stop. He looked ahead, licking his lips before he turned to you.

“This is as far as I go.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and exhaling.

“Thank you again.” “You don’t have to thank me. I’m not some kind of hero.” “I guess that kind of depends on which side of the bomb you were on.”

A smile played at his lips as you smiled at him. He nodded, reaching down to take your hands.

“Go.” “I don’t even know your name.”

He smiled, glancing down at your joined hands before he spoke.

“The Smithsonian.” “What?”

You looked up, meeting his icy blue eyes.

“Go to the Smithsonian. You might find some answers there.”

You shook your head, and his voice was barely a whisper.

“вам нужно запомнить достаточно для нас обоих.”

You shook your head again, and he squeezed your hands.

“Go.” “But—“ “Go. I’ll watch and make sure you get there okay.”

You tugged on his hands, going on your toes and kissing his stubbled cheek. He squeezed your hands once more, then let go, and you blinked back tears as you hurried away from him, walking back to the now crumbling U.N. building. You stopped at the edge of the rubble, glancing back, but seeing no one. You swallowed, walking forward, looking around until you heard your name, a few seconds before your father had you in his arms.

“Oh, god. Y/N. I thought I’d lost you again. Are you alright?”

You nodded, unable to speak through the tears thick in your throat. Thaddeus just nodded, wrapping you in a hug, resting his head atop yours.

“Hey, there you are.”

You turned your head from where you were sitting, the kitten happily purring away in your lap. Betty walked over and sat beside you, a soft, sad smile on her face.

“How you holding up?”

It had been two weeks since the bombing. The trip you and Thaddeus were on had been cut short, and Betty met the two of you in Wakanda to attend T’Challa’s father’s funeral. You’d thought very seriously of begging your father and T’Challa to let you stay in the beautiful country, but in the end, you’d come home.

Betty had been watching you from a respectable distance, there to talk if you needed, comforting you without a word when you woke screaming from nightmares you weren’t expecting to have.

You looked to your sister and smiled.

“We need to get out of this house.” “You read my mind.”

Betty offered you her hand and you took it, keeping the kitten cuddled close as the two of you went to ready yourselves for a day on the town.

“Of all the places we could go … this was not where I was expecting you to choose.”

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders and walking towards the entrance to the Smithsonian. Betty shook her head, sighing as she followed you. The two of you took your time walking through the different museums, Betty promising you’d go to the zoo next, rolling her eyes when you stopped at the Air and Space Museum.

“Oh, come on little space nerd. Let’s skip this one and just hit up the zoo.” “Come on, Betty! Where’s your sense of adventure?” “Back near the Egyptian exhibit when my feet started to hurt.”

You pushed out your lower lip and she rolled her eyes before looping her arm through yours. The two of you lazily walked around, stopping when something interested you, Betty muttering under her breath about the food court, when a new exhibit caught your eye.

“What’s that?” “What?”

You nodded towards the exhibit and Betty shrugged her shoulders. You dragged her that way, stumbling when she went still. You shook your head, peeking in the doorway.

“Captain America? Betty, that’s the comic I’ve been reading. Well, it’s one of the comics. I actually haven’t read that one yet. How is there a whole exhibit for it?”

Betty couldn’t speak. She couldn’t form the words to try to get you to bypass this exhibit, but … some part of her was hoping that going through it might help you remember something. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, turning back to you and smiling softly.

“We could make the next train to the zoo if we hurry.” “But I … I want to see this. See what all the fuss is about, when it’s just a comic book.”

Betty opened her mouth, but you bypassed her and walked inside. She closed her eyes again, remembering the way your father had tried to shut this exhibit down, putting the battle on hold when you woke up. Betty gave a shaky exhale, then followed after you.

You were standing in the middle of the floor, staring at the murals on the walls. A soothing voice came through the speakers, telling the story of the man this exhibit was based on. You met your sister’s eyes and shook your head.

“This … this is a comic book, right? How … I don’t …”

Betty moved closer to you, choosing her words as wisely as she could as she spoke.

“Well … every story is inspired by something, right? Maybe this was the inspiration for your comic book.” “No, it …”

You watched a little boy step onto a platform, giggling when the picture he was staring at went from a short, frail looking man to one tall and muscular. You shook your head.

“Betty, was … was this real?”

Betty smiled at you, shaking her head and lifting her shoulders.

“I just know what I’m hearing through the speakers. What I’m seeing on the plaques.”

You studied the plaques on the wall, putting together the story for yourself. The frail, sickly boy was Steve Rogers, chosen by the Strategic Scientific Reserve for Project Rebirth. He was injected with a special serum that cured his multiple physical ailments, becoming a prime specimen, the perfect super soldier.

“Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”

You braced yourself for the pain, but it didn’t come, despite the voice you didn’t recognize whispering those words in your memory. You walked through the exhibit, studying the military uniforms of Captain Rogers’ specialized unit, the Howling Commandos. You watched a video clip of him ordering soldiers around, using a compass with a picture of a beautiful woman in one side.

You turned to your sister, finding her close behind you, reading a plaque on the wall. You made your way to her, stumbling when the face on the plaque she was reading came into your vision.

“Whoa, you okay?”

Betty steadied you with her hands on your shoulders, but you couldn’t take your eyes from the plaque. Betty’s eyebrows furrowed when she saw how pale your face was, the shock evident in your eyes.

“Honey, what is it?”

You gave a jerky shake of your head.

“It’s not possible.” “What’s not?”

You didn’t look away from the plaque, and Betty moved to stand behind you.

“James Barnes?”

You stared at the face carved into the plaque, feeling your heart skip a few beats. His hair was shorter in the picture, his face clean shaven, but his eyes … there was no denying those were the same eyes you’d stared into halfway around the world, in Romania, then Vienna.

“Honey, let’s go sit down for a minute.” “No, I … Betty.” “What, sweetie?”

You shook your head, finally tearing your eyes from the plaque to look at her.

“I know him.”

Betty gave you a soft smile.

“Y/N—“ “No, I … Betty, I swear.” “Honey, did you read the plaque? James Barnes died in 1945. He was the only Howling Commando to give his life for his country.”

You closed your eyes, turning back to stare at the plaque.

“Betty, I’m telling you. He’s alive.” “How is that possible, honey? He was born in 1917. Even if he was alive, he’d be almost a hundred years old.”

But he wasn’t. He looked to be in his early thirties, with a weight on his shoulders and pain in his eyes. You lifted a shaking hand to your lips, slowly shaking your head. You stepped closer, moving that still shaking hand to touch the plaque, touching the face carved into it. Your voice was barely a whisper, so quiet Betty didn’t even hear it.

“Oh, god. What does this mean?”

You paced the office your father had given you, cell phone at your ear, chewing on your thumbnail. You turned and continued pacing, listening to the most annoying elevator hold music.

“Miss Ross, I’m sorry. Miss van Dyne has stepped out for a moment. May I take a message?” “Listen, I hate to be rude, but I’ve left messages. For the past two days, I have left message after message and she still hasn’t called me back. It is imperative that I speak with her. Do you understand?” “Yes ma’am, I do. And I’m very sorry, but I can’t—“

You groaned and ended the call, throwing the phone onto your desk. You walked to the couch along the wall and sat down, pushing your hands through your hair.

You hadn’t slept worth a damn the past two nights. All of your thoughts were consumed with James Barnes and how he could be alive, along with why he would want anything to do with you. You had no way to get in touch with him, no way of knowing if he’d even be in Vienna or Bucharest, if you decided to fly back there.

Not to mention that asking anyone around would be out of the question, since he apparently died over seventy years ago.

You put your face in your hands, taking in a slow breath and letting it out even slower. You lifted your head and kept your hand covering your mouth as you thought.

Nothing made sense anymore. You felt like you couldn’t trust anyone, not even your sister. Betty hadn’t done anything wrong, but you knew there was something she wasn’t telling you. And that obviously was because of your father. You felt betrayed, and it was the weirdest feeling because you didn’t know why you felt that way.

You glanced at your desk, at your computer and the folders you had there. You stood up, walking over and moving some of the folders, finding exactly what you were looking for.

The Captain America comic book. The one titled The First Avenger.

You sat in your desk chair, kicking your shoes off under your desk and cracking open the book.

It was everything you’d seen in the museum. Scrawny, sickly Steve Rogers, desperate to join the war effort like everyone around him. There was James Barnes, Steve’s best friend, but he didn’t call him James. No, Steve called him—

“Bucky.”

You pushed back from the desk, dropping the comic, which fluttered to the floor. You shook your head, covering your mouth with both hands.

How did you know that? How could you possibly know James Barnes’ nickname, when you were almost sure you’d never met the man before Romania?

You stared down at the comic, open to a scene revealing an exaggeratedly muscled, blonde-haired, blue-eyed super soldier. You shook your head, leaving your chair, kneeling to the floor and gently touching the page.

“Is it you? Steve Rogers?”

You waited for a memory to hit, but nothing happened. You flicked your eyes up towards the computer, then shook your head. You’d researched everything you’d seen in the Smithsonian. Steve had crashed an airplane into the Arctic shortly after Bucky’s death.

You looked straight ahead. If Bucky’s death … wasn’t, then … what else could be true? You looked at the phone on your desk and set your jaw, picking the comic up and flipping through it. There, at the very last page, a crying brunette all alone in a old-timey control room, was a name scratched into the corner of the cell.

What was it Betty had told you?

Every story is inspired by something.

You moved back into your desk chair, typing the name you’d found into the Google search bar, after turning the page to Incognito Mode. Your eyes widened when you found a generic author blurb, digging a little deeper and finding the information you needed.

You bit your thumbnail again, staring at the computer screen before picking up your cell phone. You shook your head as you searched for, then dialed a number, lifting your phone to your ear.

Every story is inspired by something. You were going to find the author of these comics and find out what exactly his inspiration was.

“Greyhound Bus Services.” “Yes, can I reserve a ticket to Queens, please?”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The phrases Bucky says in Russian are: “I understand why he chose you. He’s lucky.” “You need to remember enough for both of us.”

TAGS: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @captain-rogers-beard, @bionic-buckyb, @deaniebeanie666, @shynara51, @wolfarrowepz, @captain-s-rogers, @m-a-t-91, @lovemesomepietro, @the-obsessive-fangirl, @winchesterenthusiast, @iamwarrenspeace, @until-theend-oftheline, @evansrogerskitten, @thatgirl-xx-thatgirl, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @jjsoccer11, @theotherplath, @unapologeticallymimi, @the-obsessive-fangirl, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @geek-and-proud, @moonlessnight14, @xhoneybearsx, @castellandiangelo, @stressedandbandobessed7771, @get-loki, @theladybiers, @patzammit, @maddie-laufeyson, @queenoftrash97, @xxashy999xx, @oliviaadamswrites, @theunofficialduke, @mizzzpink, @sergeantliz, @sea040561, @nerdy-bookworm-1998, @potteryourotter, @animegirlgeeky, @capsiclesdoll, @their-bibliophile, @thefandomplace, @peaceinourtime82, @fallenoutofrose, @geeksareunique, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall, @chrisevansgirl, @lili-ann-love, @sister-of-stars, @distractedgemini, @walkingchemicalfire, @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#when you come back to me again series #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel reader insert #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #mcu reader insert #marvel au #mcu au #steve rogers fanfiction #captain american fanfiction #canon adjacent #female reader #reader insert

40 notes · View notes

orangeoctopi7 · 5 years ago

Text

For Want of a Switch

... A Nintendo Switch, amirite?

No, JK I’ve actually started a new fic because plot bunny/fandom pet peeves wouldn’t let me work.

An AU where things go a little more smoothly at the UFO crash site, Dipper doesn’t make any life-changing decisions without sleeping on it first, and Ford clarifies some earlier statements made while under emotional duress.

Many metaphors have been made about how changing course by just a couple of degrees can lead to a very different destination. How flipping a simple switch can make a difference between a train ending up in Paris or Munich. In this case, the metaphorical switch was as simple as Ford and Dipper not pressing a real switch inside a derelict spaceship. Because of this, no security droids showed up when Dipper found the adhesive, and they were free to continue their conversation about apprenticeship uninterrupted.

“I-I dunno.” Dipper stammered when Ford insisted that Mabel would be fine on her own in California. “We’ve never really been apart before.”

“And isn’t that suffocating?” Ford asked.

“...What do you mean?” Dipper asked for clarification. He was pretty sure he knew where his great uncle was coming from, but he had to be sure. Because if not… well, the boy wouldn’t let anyone talk about his sister like that and not stand up for her, not even The Author.

“I mean always living with the expectations that you have to go everywhere together, to do everything together! I mean when people act as though you’ve done something wrong if you ever try to follow your own path, even your own twin!”

Dipper nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. The teacher over our Quiz Bowl team is always asking me when Mabel’s gonna join, no matter how many times I tell him she’s not into that sort of thing. And every time Mabel gets a part in the school play, everyone else pesters me so much for not auditioning that I end up joining the stage crew, even though rehearsals are the same time as Game Club. Mabel always says I don’t have to, but… I just get so tired of all the other teachers and students getting on my case.”

There were even more instances like this that Dipper could list. Heck, just earlier this summer, Mabel had been upset because he wouldn’t go trick-or-treating with her. But no, Mabel was more upset that Dipper had tried to ditch her without explaining that he wanted to go to the dance with Wendy, and Robbie had made him feel embarrassed about being too old for it. She wouldn’t have been so mad if he’d just talked to her in the first place. Right?

When he stopped to think about it, Dipper realized it was probably even worse for Ford and Stan when they were growing up. They may have been fraternal twins, but they definitely looked identical. And while Dipper had never met his great-grandfather, the few stories he’d heard about the guy didn’t make him sound like a very supportive parent.

“Dipper, can you honestly tell me you never felt like you were meant for something more?” Ford asked. “More than what people expect of you? More than just being half of an assumed pair?”

“I-I guess… maybe? I dunno. Staying here in Gravity Falls, working with you… it sounds like a dream come true, but I’m not sure I have what it takes. Bill tricked me, and I was wrong about Stan and the portal.…”

“Bill tricked me too, remember?” Ford assured him. “And you were right about Stan and the portal. It was too dangerous, and he shouldn’t have opened it.”

“But then you never would have--”

“I know. Believe me, I know. And I’m so glad I got to come back to Gravity Falls and meet you and Mabel, but… but it’s selfish of me to feel that way, because the event that brought me home put the rest of the universe in danger. Once we find the alien adhesive and seal the rift, maybe I can-- I can finally live without- well, with a little less guilt.” He sighed and muttered under his breath. “Sixty-three years old, and I’m still cleaning up after his messes.” Ford shifted through a few more containers, still looking for the adhesive. “What I’m trying to say is: I think you do have what it takes.”

“If you say so…” Dipper shrugged. “I mean, I can’t even work this magnet gun right!” He held it up to demonstrate and ended up zapping a hexagonal container right to him. It leaked a strange pink goop when he tried to pry it off.

“That’s it!” Ford cried. “You did it, my boy, you found the adhesive!”

“I did?”

“Yes! What did I tell you? You do have what it takes, kid, you’re brilliant!” Ford hugged him, and then carefully packed up the alien adhesive. “We can continue this discussion on the way back home. For now, we’ve got bigger things to worry about. I’ve been working on a specialized glue-gun back in the lab. We should be able to fill it with the alien adhesive and seal up the rift.”

Dipper got a few more tries with the magnet gun on their way back out of the crashed alien ship, and by the time he reached the ladder again, he’d actually gotten the hang of it.

“Great Uncle Ford?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“If… if I do become your apprentice, could we come back here some time?”

Ford grinned warmly. “Absolutely.”

As they ascended the ladder, Dipper paused to take a few more selfies before they left the UFO, and he even got Ford to pose with him in one, but it was clear the old researcher wanted to get back to the lab and seal off the rift as soon as possible. Their climb up was otherwise uneventful. But while Dipper was exiting the ship, his foot caught on the lip of the opening, and tripped over the rock that had been covering the access hatch before. Luckily, his backpack took the brunt of the fall. Unluckily, they heard the loud crunch of something breaking.

Dipper and Ford shared a moment of wide-eyed terror as the boy hurriedly opened up his bag and pulled out the rift. They shared a sigh of relief when they found the crack in the containment unit hadn't expanded more than a millimeter, and was still stable. Dipper rummaged around in his bag and found the offending culprit.

“Phew, it was just my walkie-talkie.” The boy sighed with relief. The speaker had popped out and the Talk button was stuck down. “Oh well, we weren’t getting a signal anyway.”

“I can fix it for you, once the rift is taken care of.” Ford assured him, “But we need to seal it fast, before that crack finally breaks.”

Dipper nodded and gingerly held out the containment unit to his uncle. “I think you’d better carry it from here on out.”

Ford solemnly took the rift and placed it in one of his many coat pockets. “That was close. We can’t afford to have any accidents with this.”

“I’m sorry…” Dipper murmured.

“You don’t need to be sorry, my boy. Just more careful.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about when I say I don’t think I have what it takes! I just almost ended the universe!”

“Almost being the operative word. You almost destabilized the rift, but you didn’t.” Ford reassured him. “Meanwhile, look at all the things you have done! Defeated a swarm of gnomes, faced off against a character from a fighting game brought to life, outsmarted a shapeshifter! How many other twelve-year-olds could do that? This town is a magnet for things that are special. For people who are special, like you and me!” Ford hugged him. “So what do you say, will you be my apprentice?”

“Well… I… it’s a really big decision.” Dipper said slowly. “I’m gonna need time to think about it.”

“You’re right. It is a big decision.” Ford agreed. “And you’ve got the rest of the week to consider it. Of course, I hope you say yes.”

* * *

The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon when they got back to the shack, the sunlight filtering in long slanting beams between the trees. The beautiful scenery added to Dipper's good mood as he ran up the stairs to the attic, eager to share the day's events with his sister.

"Mabel! I just had the greatest day of my life! Aliens are real, and I got to explore their ship with Grunkle Ford, and-" he halted in his rambling when he saw his sister curled up in a ball on her bed, her back to him. "Mabel, what's wrong?"

She slowly sat up and turned around, revealing her walkie-talkie, still receiving transmissions from Dipper's busted one.

"Tell me I heard wrong, Dipper!" She cried, "Tell me you're not going to stay here and be Ford's apprentice!"

"Well, I… I haven't really made a decision yet." Dipper replied. "I've still got all week to think about it."

"You just had the best day of your life? Well I just had the worst day of my life!" Mabel informed her brother with tears in her eyes. "I found out that everything I was looking forward to in the future, highschool, a birthday party with my friends, even saying goodbye to them at the bus stop before we leave, it's all going wrong! And now I find out you, the one constant in my life, might not be coming home with me!?"

"I-I don't know, I haven't decided yet…" Dipper stammered. "Just give me a couple of days to think about it, we'll figure this out!"

"Why can't you figure out right now that it's a terrible idea!?"

Dipper tried to remember how Ford had put it. He made it sound so clear and logical. "Come on, Mabel, we can't always do the same thing! We have to choose our own path!"

"What does that even mean!?" She threw her hands up. "I'm your sister and your friend, Dipper, whatever you do it's gonna affect me, especially if it's you leaving me!"

“Well, always staying with you is going to affect me and the opportunities I have!”

“I’m not saying you always have to stay with me!” Mabel retorted. “But moving away from home for good? Staying cooped up in a lab with Grunkle Ford all the time? Is that really what you want?”

“I don’t know what I really want!” Dipper steamed. “So far today nobody has given me time to stop and really think about this! You think I don’t have misgivings about moving away from Mom and Dad? But it’s not like I’d never come back, I’d come to visit for holidays and stuff. And I wouldn’t be cooped up in the lab with Grunkle Ford all the time. We’d go out exploring, and I’d hang out with Wendy when she’s done with school for the day, and Grunkle Stan would still be around to make me do chores… probably…”

Come to think of it, Dipper wasn’t quite sure what Stan was going to do once tourist season was over. It was clear Ford didn’t approve of the Mystery Shack, even less than Dipper had when the boy first arrived. Would Stan stay in Gravity Falls after the Shack was shut down? Did he have anywhere else to go?

“Fine!” Mabel huffed as she stormed out of the room. “Take you time thinking about how much fun you’re gonna have chasing fairies with Grunkle Ford, while I’m stuck in Piedmont doing math homework!”

Dipper waited quietly in their bedroom as he listened to Mabel thunder down the stairs. He figured it was probably best to give her some space to cool down for now. They’d talk more about it when she wasn’t so upset, when they could both think clearly. Once the front door slammed shut, he knew it was safe for him to go downstairs. He headed down to the basement to see if Ford needed any help sealing the rift.

* * *

It was early in the evening, but the gift shop was completely empty. Of course, the fact that it was the second-to-last Friday of August didn’t help. Tourist season was coming to a close. Normally the Mystery Shack would cut back to only being open on the weekends once September rolled around, going until Halloween, when Stan would throw together a haunted house and go out with a bang before closing down until the holiday season, when he’d open up for a couple of weeks before shutting down again until Spring Break of next year.

Not this year, though.

This year, Stan would be closing up the Mystery Shack for good.

“Alright, I ain’t payin’ ya to stand around when we’re not pulling in any cash.” Stan barked at Wendy. “Go home!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Wendy shrugged, pulling off her name tag and grabbing her jacket.

“You too, Soos!” Stan turned to the handyman, who was busy pulling boxes out of a closet.

“You sure, Mr. Pines?” Soos asked, “I thought you wanted me to clear out all our old inventory.”

“It can wait ‘til tomorrow. I get the feeling it’s gonna be another slow day.”

“Oh. Well, I could help you clean out the kitchen instead!”

“Soos.”

“You don’t gotta pay me. Oh, or I could vacuum the living room!”

“Go home, Soos! If you’re so set on doin’ chores, do ‘em for your Abuelita!”

“Oh. Ok…”

Stan hadn’t told Soos about Ford’s mandate to close down the Mystery Shack after the kids left, and he worried the handyman would figure it out if he stuck around. Stan also hadn’t told the guy he’d be kicked out after the kids left. Maybe Stan was just trying to spare the kid’s feelings. Or maybe he was hoping Soos’ inevitable water works when he found out would persuade Ford to change his mind. Not likely, but hey, it was worth a shot, right?

The old conman was tallying up the day’s profits in the cash register (there weren’t any) when his hearing aide picked up the bang of the attic bedroom door slamming open, followed by the tromp-thump-clomp-thunk of someone stomping down the stairs, punctuated by the creeeeeeak-slam of the front door being thrown open and then kicked shut.

“Oh boy.” He sighed, locking the till. He’d had to cheer Mabel up just an hour ago, and he didn’t think it was a coincidence that someone had stormed out of the house just a few minutes after Dipper and Ford got back from their latest nerd escapade. What were those kids fighting about now?

Stan peeked out the window at the front porch, and sure enough, there was Mabel, sobbing on the couch, her head pulled into her sweater. Earlier she’d just been sad and unsure of the future, but now Stan could see her mood had shifted, and not for the better. These were tears of anger and frustration.

“Hey Pumpkin, you alright?” Stan asked as he peeked out the front door.

“No!”

Right, stupid question. “Well, wassamatter? I gotta punch some jerk for you?”

“No…” Mabel said more quietly this time. Stan figured that was all the invitation he needed to sit down next to her.

“You feelin’ up to tellin’ me what happened, or am I gonna have to play Ducktective?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now…” Mabel mumbled, her voice a bit muffled by the sweater over her face. “Can you just… can you just sit here with me for a little while?”

“Eh, sure, I got nothin’ better to do.” Stan played it off like he was indifferent, but he wrapped a gentle arm around her back. He could tell she appreciated it by the way she leaned into his side.

They sat there like that for maybe five minutes before Mabel finally began to talk on her own.

“You remember earlier, when you said at least whatever happens, I’ll still have Dipper with me?”

Yep, they were definitely fighting again. “Yeah?”

“I’m starting to worry I won’t always have him with me.”

“Alright, what’d that bundle of sweat and nerves do now?”

“It’s not something he did… not exactly.” Mabel was quiet for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure she should share the next bit. “Grunkle Ford asked Dipper if he wanted to stay here in Gravity Falls and be his apprentice.”

“...Did he now?” Stan asked icily. He didn’t want to make this about him and his brother’s issues. This was Mabel’s problem. But oh boy, he was going to have words with his brother as soon as he had the chance. “Sixty-three years old and I’m still cleanin’ up after his messes…” he muttered under his breath.

“I overheard them talking about it on the walkie-talkies.” Mabel nodded, apparently not hearing that last bit. “And when Dipper got back, he said he needed time to think about it! I guess I’m mad because if it were me, I wouldn’t have to think about it. If I had to choose between staying in Gravity Falls without Dipper, or going home with him, I’d choose to go home with him every time!”

Stan gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I know you would, sweetie. But you gotta remember, your brother’s one of those over-thinking types. He’s gotta over-think everything! That big head of his will figure out it’s a bad idea.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have to talk some sense into him.”

Mabel shifted inside her sweater and gave a little moan. She still wasn’t reassured.

Stan heaved a deep sigh. “Look, I’m gonna tell you somethin’ I wish I’d known when I was a kid. I don’t think this’ll happen, but… if Dipper does decide he wants to stay with Ford, or if when you two get older, he decides to do something you really don’t think he should do, you should try and talk some sense into him. But if he still won’t listen, all you can do is support him. Cuz if he ever feels like you’re tryin’ to hold him back, that’ll only push him away faster.”

Mabel finally poked her head out of her sweater and looked up at Stan with wide eyes. “I’m not trying to hold Dipper back… I just don’t want to be alone!”

He hugged her. “I know, sweetie. Nobody does.”

“And you weren’t trying to hold Grunkle Ford back when you two were teenagers! The thing with his science fair project was just an accident!”

Oh great. Here he’d been trying to not make this about himself and his issues with his brother. “Believe me, I know. But it doesn’t matter what I know. He still thinks it was sabotage.” The old conman shook his head. “But look, kid, you don’t gotta worry about my issues, even if they do seem pretty similar. I know right now with summer ending and your last year of middle school starting, it seems you’re growin’ up too fast, but the truth is, you’re still young. You an’ your brother’ve still got years an’ years to mess up and make up.”

Mabel squirmed the rest of the way out of her sweater and wrapped her arms around Stan’s waist. “Thanks Grunkle Stan. I guess I feel a little better now. I’m still worried about what Dipper will do, though.”

“Well, if he does decide to stay here with Ford, maybe I’ll come home with you.”

Mabel giggled and looked up at him again, but her smile faltered when she saw he wasn’t joking. “W-what are you talking about? You can’t just leave the Mystery Shack, this is your home!”

Yikes. Stan probably shouldn’t have said that out loud. He was pretty sure the whole reason Ford was letting him stay until the kids left was because the old nerd didn’t want them to know about it and make a fuss. Stan had just wanted to make Mabel feel better, but she’d just be more upset if she found out he’d been kicked out.

Luckily, something else caught their attention before that conversation could start. They heard something rustling through the underbrush. It was hard to see in the dimming light as the sun continued to sink towards the horizon, but a humanoid figure seemed to be making its way towards the clearing that housed the Mystery Shack. Stan reached behind the couch for his anti-creep bat, which he used to chase off Manotaurs, IRS agents, or the stray beautiful men that had started hanging around a couple of months ago. But an uneasy feeling he couldn’t place made him reach further down until his hand closed around the handle of a pistol. His thumb rested carefully against the safety switch, unsure if he should flip if off yet.

Before the figure came into full view, they heard its voice, high pitched and annoying, but probably male. “M-M-M-Mabel? M-Mable? Ugh, where is she? She should’ve come this way by now!”

Stan switched the safety off. He was about to order Mabel back inside when the stranger finally stumbled into the clearing. He was a tall, pudgy man with a hairstyle that looked straight out of the 1920’s, wearing weird little goggles and a gray jumpsuit. Wait, not gray, forest camo. Wait, no, brick pattern. No, a seascape. No, definitely gray. Wow, were Stan’s eyes really that bad?

“Wait, Blendin!?” Mabel exclaimed. She hopped up from the couch, but Stan immediately grabbed her shoulder and sat her back down. Every instinct in his body was telling him this was wrong.

This Blendin guy looked up with surprise when he heard her voice. “M-Mabel! I’ve been looking all over for you! I-I-I need your help!”

That just set off more alarm bells. Why would this creep be looking for Mabel in the woods instead of the home she’d been living in for the past two-and-a-half months?

“Mabel, who the heck is this weirdo?” Stan asked uneasily.

“That’s Blendin Blandin. He’s a time travel guy. Me and Dipper accidentally lost him his job, and then he challenged us to a time travelers’ gladitoral death match called Globnar, which we won, so we got him his job back, and now we’re cool!” She assured her uncle. “What’s wrong, Blendin?”

“S-something terrible is about to happen, and I-I-I need your help to stop it!”

Mabel tried to stand up again, but Stan kept a hand tightly clamped down on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you can tell her from where you’re at.” Stan growled.

“I-I-It’s top secret!” Blendin whined. “I-I-I could lose my job again i-if this gets out!”

“It’s OK Blendin! Grunkle Stan just wants to make sure I’m safe!” Mabel assured him. “But he’s really good at keeping secrets, you can trust him! Why don’t you just come up here and tell us what’s wrong?”

Blendin took a few steps forward, but stopped just a foot short of the porch. “Uuuuh… h-h-how about we meet h-half-way?”

That was it. Stan whipped out the pistol he’d been hiding behind the couch. “How’s about you start talkin’ now?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel gasped, scandalized.

“A-a-alright!” Blendin whimpered. “I-I-I need something from your brother’s lab! B-but you have to hurry!”

* * *

Ford noticed right away that Dipper’s mood had worsened in the ten minutes since they’d gotten home. His gaze was on the floor, and he shuffled his feet as he left the elevator.

“Let me guess, Mabel didn’t take it well?”

Dipper just shook his head in reply. “I still need to talk to her about it when she’s not so upset, but… I’m starting to think I shouldn’t take your offer…”

The old researcher felt himself deflate at the boy’s words, but he hoped Dipper hadn’t noticed. Instead he changed the subject. “For now, we need to focus on sealing the rift. Everything else can wait.” He pulled the rift out of his pocket. The crack reached almost completely across the protective dome now. “Dipper, would you please get me the glue gun sitting on the console desk?”

The glue gun in question looked like a cross between one of Mabel’s crafting glue guns and a Nyarf Mega Soaker, complete with an empty tank built into the back end. It was big enough that Dipper needed both hands to lift it. The boy carried it over to Ford, who inserted the tip into the alien adhesive container and began to fill it like a syringe.

“Alright, I need you to take that flathead screwdriver and very carefully unscrew the base of the containment unit.” Ford instructed.

Dipper did just that, holding his breath the whole time so his hands wouldn’t shake.

“OK, now turn it over, slow and steady, and detach one of the tubes from the dome.”

Dipper turned the dome in his hands, careful to keep the swirling blob of chaos energy inside from touching the glass, and then pulled one of the tiny tubes out. Ford knelt down beside him and inserted the tip of the glue gun into the little hole before the rift could leak out. He began to pump the alien adhesive into the rift, starting at the bottom and working his way up until what had once been a sparkling hole in space was now a glowing pink mass. He continued until the glue began to ooze out of the cracks in the dome.

“Alright, put it down. Careful not to get any of the adhesive on your hands. Step back.” Ford put himself between Dipper and the filled containment dome the moment the boy moved. The old researcher stared it down, as if daring it to do something, anything, to suggest it was destabilizing. He waited a minute. Two. Five. It just sat there, unmoving, unchanging.

Ford released a breath he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding. Was that it? Was he… done?

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot went off from the vicinity of the porch above them.

Ford swore he jumped as high as the ceiling at the sound. Dipper screamed. The old researcher pressed himself and his nephew into the small space beneath the console desk, looking warilly up at the hole in the roof where Dipper had fallen through under the porch just a few weeks ago. If he concentrated, he could hear voices arguing up there. It sounded like Stan, and another voice he didn’t recognize, but it was hard to make out. He was going to have to go up there if he wanted to know what was happening.

“Stay down here where it’s safe. If Stan or your sister try to come in here without me, don’t trust them until you’ve checked their eyes. If anyone else tries to get in, barricade the door and hide.”

“W-what about the rift?”

Ford glanced down at the ball of glowing adhesive. It’d take at least another 24 hours for it to cure, but it seemed safe, for now. “Hide it, if you have to, but it should be fine.” With that, he darted to the elevator, checking his weapons as he waited for the lift to take him up.

He hoped everyone was ok. It would be the cruelest irony if after finally protecting the universe from the rift, he failed to protect his family.

* * *

“Grunkle Stan, don’t hurt him!” Mabel cried, trying to pull down his arm holding up the gun.

“Just a warning shot, sweetie.” Stan assured her through gritted teeth. “I don’t remember ever mentioning anything about havin’ a brother to you, much less anything about a lab.” He addressed the stranger standing in front of the porch.

“I-I-I’m from the future! I know these sorts of things!” Blendin insisted. Funny. He didn’t seem any more flustered than he had been before the gunshot.

“Sure.”

“Grunkle Stan, he’s telling the truth!”

“I don’t doubt that.” But Stan knew better than anyone that the best way to sell a big lie was with a bunch of technically true facts. And his instincts told him this joker was trying to pass a doozy of a lie. “Go wait inside, sweetie.”

“No, you’ll shoot him!”

“Only if he gives me a good reason to.”

“M-M-Mabel, wait!” Blendin implored pathetically.

“Go wait inside kid, or you’re grounded!”

“But Grunkle Stan--”

“Somethin’ about this is off, alright?” Stan muttered to her under his breath. “Pay attention to your instincts, you’ll feel it too. Just do me a favor and go inside where it’s safe, ok?”

After another moment of hesitation, Mabel finally listened to her Grunkle and went inside.

“So,” Stan turned his attention back to the stranger waiting just beyond the porch. “I got five more rounds. That gives you five more chances to tell me why you want something outta my brother’s lab.”

The guy’s posture shifted into something far more confident and inexplicably inhuman as he burst into a long, mocking fit of laughter. The creep’s voice had completely changed the next time he spoke.

“OH, I SHOULDA KNOWN I COULDN’T PULL ONE OVER ON YOU, STANLEY PINES!”

“What, am I supposed to be impressed you know my real name? We already established you’re from the future, and even if that wasn’t the case, I’m pretty sure Soos has spread that gossip through half the town by now.”

“WELL, WE BOTH KNOW YOU CAN’T KEEP ON GOING BY ‘STANFORD’ AFTER THE SUMMER ENDS. I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU GET USED TO IT.”

“Yeah. Drop the small talk and cut to the chase, bucko. I really don’t wanna shoot you after my niece asked me not to.”

“OK, OK. IT’LL PROBABLY COME AS NO SURPRISE TO YOU THAT YOUR BROTHER’S IN OVER HIS HEAD WITH ONE OF HIS PROJECTS.” The creep pressed a button on his watch and a hologram of what Stan could only describe as massively over-designed snowglobe appeared. “IT’S A TEAR IN TIME AND SPACE. HE’S TRYING TO KEEP THE THING FROM GOING CRITICAL, BUT HE CAN’T DO IT ON HIS OWN. HE’S TRYING TO SEAL IT NOW, BUT IT’S GOING TO RUPTURE. HOWEVER, IF YOU CAN GET IT TO ME BEFORE HE SEALS IT…”

“Uh-huh. And what’re you gonna do with it?”

“TAKE IT TO THE FUTURE, WHERE WE HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY TO CONTAIN IT, OF COURSE!”

“So why don’t you just ask him for it yourself?”

“HAH! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW HOW STUBBORN AND PARANOID HE IS! HE’D NEVER LET ANOTHER PERSON TOUCH IT, HE HAS TO BE THE HERO ALL ON HIS OWN!”

“Yeah, you got a good point there. But I meant why don’t you ask him for it yourself when he bursts out this door in about ten seconds.”

* * *

The elevator ascent took entirely too long. It had to be at least two minutes since he heard the gunshot go off, which, depending on whether or not anyone sustained an injury, and what kind of injury it was, was time he didn’t have to waste.

As Ford rushed through the house to the front porch door, he was relieved to note that Mabel was perfectly safe, just peeking anxiously out the front window. But the observation did nothing to slow him down. Through the window he could see Stan on the porch, holding what appeared to be the offending firearm. The gun was pointed at an unfamiliar figure. What was familiar was the figure’s voice. Ford pushed past Mabel and threw the door open, one hand already on his own blaster.

“Bill!!” He cried as he lept dramatically onto the porch, drawing his blaster with a flourish. Stan was looking at him with a smug grin, obviously he’d heard his brother running through the house. Bill, for once, looked surprised. But he quickly regained his composure.

“WELL, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL! I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HERE FOR, SIXER!”

“You’re too late, Bill, I already sealed the rift!”

Ford was satisfied to see that for the second time in under a minute, Bill looked shocked. “WHAT?!? WHAT--HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!? FIRST SHOOTING STAR DOESN’T SHOW IN THE WOODS WHEN SHE’S SUPPOSED TO, NOW THIS!? IS SOME LESSER TIME BEING MESSING WITH ME TODAY?”

Bill removed his goggles, revealing the tell-tale glowing yellow eyes, which he rubbed with frustration before continuing, back in his usual mocking tone. “SO WHAT, DID YOU STEAL THE FATES’ SEWING KIT AND STITCH IT BACK TOGETHER YOURSELF? OR, OH DON’T TELL ME, YOU AND PINETREE WERE AT THE UFO EARLIER. YOU FILLED IT IN WITH SPACE GLUE, DIDN’T YOU? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES THAT STUFF TO SET? OF COURSE YOU DON’T, YOU NEVER TOOK THE TIME TO TEST IT! TYPICAL SIXER.”

Stanford blanched. No, he hadn’t tested it first. There hadn’t been time! “I-I know it will work! And it doesn’t matter how long it takes to set, you can’t reach it if it’s within the protection spell!”

“I SURE CAN’T!” Bill agreed with a smirk. “BUT I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO WHO CAN!” He turned to Stan “WHADDAYA SAY, MAC? CARE TO HELP ME STICK IT TO YOUR UNGRATEFUL BROTHER?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Stan growled. “And only I get to call him Sixer!”

Bill’s confident grin set into a forced grimace.

“HA.”

“WELL.”

“YOU PROBABLY THINK YOU’VE WON, DON’T YOU? WELL, GUESS AGAIN, LOSER! THIS ISN’T OVER! EVEN IF I CAN’T CROSS THAT BARRIER, I’VE STILL GOT PLENTY OF PAWNS IN THIS HICK TOWN! AND EVEN IF YOU SOMEHOW MANAGE TO KEEP THE RIFT LONG ENOUGH FOR THAT GLUE TO SET? I’VE BEEN WAITING BILLIONS OF YEARS FOR THIS! YOU THINK I CAN’T WAIT ANOTHER DECADE FOR SOME OTHER SCHMUCK TO COME ALONG AND BUILD A PORTAL!? YOU CAN’T STOP ME! AND I’LL MAKE SURE THE ENTIRE PINES FAMILY REGRETS EVER CROSSING BILL CIPHER!”

Bill pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash.

The elder Pines twins stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the empty space Bill had just left as if they could still see the anger and hatred radiating from it.

Stan, of course, was the first one to speak again. “We gotta talk.”

Ford just nodded solemnly, and followed him inside.

* * *

After Stan finally convinced Mabel to go inside, she’d waited silently, peeking out the nearest window. Stan had probably wanted her to go someplace where she couldn’t hear or see what was happening, but she just had to know everyone was going to be ok. She didn’t want her Grunkle or Blendin to get hurt, even if the time traveler was acting weirder than usual.

The air froze in her lungs when she heard Bill’s voice come out of Blendin’s mouth. She wanted to run back out there and warn Stan, but he’d asked her to go inside for her own safety, and Stan hadn’t trusted the time traveler from the beginning, so he would probably be fine… right?

Luckily she didn’t have to wait by the window worrying for long. Less than a minute later, Ford came crashing and banging down the hall. His serious glare lightened to relief for the split second he spared his niece a glance, but then snapped right back to blazing fury as he kicked the door open. Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. If anyone could handle Bill showing up at their front door, it was Grunkle Ford.

She peeked back out the window and watched as her Grunkles exchanged words with Bill. They both approached the problem very differently. Ford was yelling with a bravado that faltered the minute Bill pointed out a flaw in his plan. Stan was treating Bill much like he had Gideon. Outwardly, he seemed calm and unworried, but the fact that he’d sent Mabel inside and fired a gun showed he took the threat seriously.

Bill’s last threat before he time traveled away sent a chill down Mabel’s spine. She remembered the last time she’d crossed paths with the demon. The note he’d left for her in Grunkle Stan’s car. She couldn’t let Dipper down like that again, couldn’t let him get hurt like that again. They needed each other now more than ever.

Of course, it was some reassurance to know that the barrier spell Grunkle Ford had created was obviously working. That was probably the only reason Bill hadn’t marched right up the porch steps and taken her himself. Mabel was doubly glad she’d been able to get that unicorn hair now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Stan and Ford came back inside. Ford stopped like he’d just remembered something when he saw Mabel still sitting there.

“I left Dipper hiding down in the lab! I need to go let him know what happened.”

Stan folded his arms impatiently. “Alright, but make it quick, and if you’re not back up here in ten minutes, I’m coming down after you. I’m serious about that talk.”

Mabel decided to follow Ford down to the secret lab. She was suddenly very concerned about Dipper and his whereabouts. Ford didn’t seem to mind; he just gave her a tired smile when they both stopped at the vending machine to input the code. As the two of them got into the elevator, Mabel wondered if this was a good time to confront her Grunkle about the apprenticeship he’d offered Dipper. But no, Mabel was pretty sure she’d just get mad again, and she didn’t want to feel mad right now. She just wanted to be sure her family was safe. So the elevator ride passed in an uncomfortable silence.

When they arrived in the lab, it appeared empty. Only after Ford stepped out of the elevator and past an oozing pink orb on the floor did Dipper emerge from his hiding spot. It was a pretty good hiding spot, behind what looked like a periscope designed to look like part of the totem pole outside.

“Mabel!” The boy rushed to hug her immediately. “What happened? Wh-where’s Grunkle Stan, is he alright?”

“Stan is fine, he’s just waiting upstairs.” Ford assured him. “Bill came possessing a time travel agent.”

“He was pretending to be Blendin!” Mabel elaborated. “He wanted me and Grunkle Stan to get something out of the lab for him to stop something terrible from happening in the future!”

“Luckily, Stan recognized him as a threat.” Ford continued. “That was the gunshot we heard earlier.”

Dipper paled and pulled at his hair. “Ohmigosh, did Grunkle Stan kill Blendin!?”

Ford actually chuckled as he got down on one knee and placed a comforting hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “It was just a warning shot. Don’t worry, nobody got hurt. But Bill was furious when I told him I’d sealed the rift. I’m afraid we’re not done protecting it yet.”

“What’s this rift you keep talking about?” Mabel asked. “And what’s that sparkly pink ball of glitter-glue in the middle of the floor?”

“I’ll explain once we get back upstairs. Stan has made it quite clear he wants to talk about what’s going on.” Ford assured her.

* * *

They found Stan waiting in the gift shop, leaning against the checkout counter and tapping his foot in an agitated rhythm.

“Finally. Now you two kids go to your room, the grown-ups have to have a talk.”

“Stanley, they deserve an explanation just as much as you do! Besides, Dipper already knows.”

“Of course he already knows, you asked the kid to stay here without ever botherin’ to talk to anybody else about it!”

“Who even told you… what does this have to do with the rift?”

“Rift? Wha-- I don’t care what you an’ pudgy out there were yellin’ about, I wanna know how come you’re askin’ your 12-year-old nephew to move in!”

Ford rolled his eyes and groaned with frustration. And here he thought they were finally on the same page for once. “That hardly matters right now! Stopping Bill and protecting the rift should be our top priority! Now, I’m sorry I kept this from the two of you up until now, but I honestly thought it would be safer if you knew as little as possible.Obviously, just the opposite was true.” He omitted the fact that he’d been reluctant to let Mabel know about the rift after seeing her break an entire shelf-full of snow globe souvenirs in the gift shop.

“Don’t try an’ change the subject, Sixer!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at his brother.

“Grunkle Stan, this is more important!” Dipper interjected exasperatedly.

Mabel tugged at the old conman’s sleeve. “They’re right.” Mabel agreed gently. “Besides, I want to know what’s going on and why Bill was here.”

“Fine.” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. “But we’re havin’ this conversation later, no gettin’ out of it!”

They all had a seat around the card table in the den, and Ford began his explanation. “Bill Cipher is an extradimensional being trying to break his way into our world. Dipper and Mabel have already encountered him--”

“I read all your Journals, genius, I know who Bill Cipher is.” Stan snapped. “But I thought he was some annoying triangle guy who showed up in your dreams, not some pushy time traveler.”

“If you read my Journals thoroughly” Ford said testily, “You’d know he’s capable of tricking people into allowing him to possess them.”

Stan grimaced, probably remembering a few particular passages from Journal 3. “Oh.”

“Not long after I first came to Gravity Falls, I was stupid enough to let Bill trick me. He convinced me that building a portal to another dimension would give me the answers I sought, but what he really wanted was to bring his dimension, the Nightmare Realm, into ours.”

“Yeah, but… then Grunkle Stan got you out of there and the portal was super broken, so we don’t have to worry about him anymore, right?” Mabel asked uncertainly, holding vainly onto hope.

“No.” Ford replied with an icy glare at his brother. “Stanley’s reckless operation of the portal created a rift: an unstable hole in space and time that Bill could use to enter our dimension and plunge the world into a bizarre doomsday I call ‘Weirdmaggedon’.”

Stan snorted. “Still got a flair for names, huh?”

“Stanley, would you take this seriously!?”

“What? I heard you say earlier you sealed the rift, and then that jerk exploded. He wouldn’t’ve gotten mad like that unless what you did really screwed with his plans. From what he was sayin’ I’d guess we’ve got another decade at least until we have to deal with that guy.”

“If the rift is sealed properly, then yes, we’ll have bought some time while Bill searches for another pawn to manipulate, but after what he said earlier, I’m afraid the alien adhesive I used to seal it won’t set as quickly as I had hoped, leaving the rift vulnerable.”

“Eh, he was just sayin’ that to psych you out.” Stan waved his hand dismissively.

“Wait, alien adhesive? Is that what that glass ball of glitter-glue was?” Mabel asked.

“That was the containment unit I was using to keep the rift stable. Once it started cracking, I began searching for something to close it up for good. Just earlier today, Dipper and I were able to retrieve the adhesive without any trouble. I sealed up the rift with glue, then filled the containment dome, just to be safe.”

Mabel slapped her forehead. “Grunkle Ford, haven’t you ever heard of ‘A Little Dab’ll Do Ya’?”

“What?” Ford asked in confusion.

“When you’re using glue, you only use just enough to get things to stick together!” Mabel explained. “If you use too much, it’ll take forever to dry! If I filled whole ball with Schmelmer’s glue like that, I don’t think it’d ever dry!”

“Can’t you just spray it with a setting agent?” Stan asked. Everyone stared at him in surprise. “What? I use a lot of crafting glue makin’ exhibits for the Shack!”

“I couldn’t use a two-part epoxy because the energy of the chemical reaction would destabilize the rift.” Ford shook his head. “It needs to crystalize naturally, or it will leave seams in time-space that Bill could use.”

“Well, how long will it take to crystalize naturally?” Dipper asked.

Ford hesitated. “I had hoped it would take a little over 24 hours, but…”

“Not if it’s trapped inside a ball like that.” Mabel shook her head. “Can you get it out?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose frustratedly. “I’d have to chip away the dome. It’s not just glass, it’s a special substance as strong as steel. But, it has already started cracking, I suppose if I can expand those cracks enough…”

“So, are we still in danger of the rift destabilizing?” Dipper asked.

“Not spontaneously, no.” Ford assured him. “I wouldn’t recommend using it as a football or anything, but even when wet, the adhesive will act as a binding agent and keep the hole in time-space closed. It would take a large burst of energy, or deliberately trying to pierce through the rift in order to open it.”

“And that’s probably what Bill’s gonna try to do.” Dipper said gravely.

“Well we’re not gonna let him!” Mabel declared, slamming her fist down on the table.

“That’s the spirit!” Ford allowed himself a small smile. He pulled out Journal 3 and turned to a blank page. “Bill said he still had pawns in Gravity Falls. We need to make a list of potential threats to be on the look-out for. Who would be most likely to work with Bill?”

“Gideon!” Mabel answered immediately. “Me and Soos saw him summon Bill earlier this summer!”

“Soos and I.” Ford corrected automatically. He’d only heard about this Gideon from a couple of entries Dipper had added to Journal 3. All he knew about the kid was that he’d apparently had romantic interests in Mabel, hired McGucket to build a giant mech-bot of himself, and was now in jail. It was also clear from the entries that Dipper did not have a high opinion of him.

“That little troll’s in jail, what’s he gonna do? Use his one phone call to prank us?” Stan rolled his eyes.

“With Bill’s help, there’s no telling what he could do from behind bars.” Ford warned. “But, Stanley does have a point. Are there any other possible pawns who would have easier access to the outside world?”

They all sat there thinking for a moment before Dipper offered his own answer. “I remember seeing a tapestry with Bill on it in the Northwest’s mansion. I don’t know if they realized what it is though, I think they just buy up any local Native American artefacts on principle. It makes them look like they care about the people, when really they’re just trying to keep how horrible Nathaniel Northwest was from getting out and ruining their image.”

“The Northwests have a lot of power over this town. If Bill is working with one of them, protecting the rift will be all the more difficult..” Ford said somberly.

“Luckily, we have an insider with the Northwests!” Mabel grinned. “I’ll call Pacifica tomorrow and ask her to come over and hang out! We can ask her if she’s noticed anything weird about her family then!”

“Good.” Ford nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Eh… pretty sure Toby Determined would sell his soul for a date with Shandra Jimenez.” Stan grunted.

“Noted.” Ford jotted down all their suggestions before continuing. “These are all people we should keep an eye on, but they’re also the most obvious answers… aside from this Toby fellow. Bill will undoubtedly know we suspect them. He doesn’t just work with dangerously unhinged people. Think, is there anyone you wouldn’t normally suspect, who Bill could trick into helping him? Someone with access to this house?”

The three other Pines around the tabel all shared a glance and shrugged.

“Soos is pretty impressionable, but he was there with us when we drove Bill out of Stan’s mind. He knows that triangle guy is bad news.” Mabel answered. “What about Wendy?”

“No way!” Dipper replied vehemently. “Wendy’s way too smart to fall for Bill’s tricks!”

“Unfortunately, being smart has very little to do with it.” Ford reminded him.

“Y-yeah, but…” Dipper stammered. “She’s a different kind of smart! She’s really skeptical and good at reading people. She could tell I had a crush on her, even though I never said anything!”

Mabel giggled. “That’s because you were really obvious, bro-bro.”

The boy blushed. “Well, what about your friends?”

“You mean Candy and Grenda?” Mabel asked. “I don’t think so. I told them about Bill when we went to get the unicorn hair.”

“Then you would have told Wendy about him too!”

“Oh yeah!” Mabel remembered. “I’m not sure she believed me though. She definitely didn’t believe in unicorns before we found one.”

“Well, that’s everyone who comes here on a regular basis.” Stan leaned back in his chair. “Besides, y’know, the dozens of tourists who come through the gift shop every day.”

Ford paled. “All he would have to do is convince one tourist… Stanley why on Earth did you think it was a good idea to build a gift shop in the same room as the lab entrance!?”

“The best hiding spots are always in plain sight, genius!” Stan retorted. “You don’t gotta worry, tourist season is wrappin’ up, traffic’s gone down a lot. Shouldn’t be too hard to keep an eye on things.”

“You’re out giving your so-called ‘tours’ half the time.”

“Then I’ll ask Soos to keep an eye on the entrance.”

“No, he’s far too easily distracted. I’ll stay in the gift shop and guard the entrance.” Ford insisted.

Stan rolled his eyes. “That’s just gonna draw attention to it, knucklehead! Look, I got security cameras. If you really gotta watch the vending machine every minute, you can watch the video feed from my office.”

“Fine.”

“Welp, would you look at that! We’ve discussed who the heck Bill Cipher is, what he wants, and what we’re gonna do about it!” Stan stood up from his chair abruptly. “Guess this conversation’s over. And would you look at the time! Time to get you kids up to bed!”

“But it’s still light out!” Dipper protested.

“The sun sets really late out here in the summer. You don’t know what time it is!” Stan began to push the kids out of the room.

“I have a watch! It’s only like 7:30!”

Stan quickly swiped the watch off his nephew’s wrist. “What watch? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. It’s bedtime!”

The young twins, seeing that trying to reason with Stan at this point was an exercise in futility, reluctantly allowed themselves to be shepherded upstairs.

In the short amount of time while they were gone, Stanford found his mind wandering back to one particular thing Bill had said.

“I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO WHO CAN! WHADDAYA SAY, MAC? CARE TO HELP ME STICK IT TO YOUR UNGRATEFUL BROTHER?”

Bill was a liar. Of course this was a lie too, right? Stan didn’t hate him, right? Stan had immediately turned Bill down, after all. That might just be because he knew Bill was dangerous though… because he just wanted to protect the kids….

“Alright, you’d better have one heck of an explanation.” Stan returned and Ford was reminded of just why he was so mad at his brother.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to invite someone to move into my own house!”

“It’s not my permission you need! Have you even talked to their parents yet?”

“Well, no…” Ford admitted. “But it’d be a waste of time to ask them if it turns out Dipper isn’t interested. And besides, I’m sure they’d be thrilled at the opportunity to accelerate their son’s education.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You don’t know their mom, Poindexter. She expects a letter from her kids every week.”

“Well, I’m sure we could keep up that tradition.”

“And every time she calls lately, she’s been goin’ on and on about how excited she is to see her ‘little lamby’ again. She’s not gonna be thrilled her son isn’t coming home.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “You make it sound as if he’s going to die! We’ll make time to go visit the family between projects, and I know communications technology has made huge advancements in the last 30 years. I saw your handyman communicating via a two-way video stream just last night.”

“That’s not the same as him actually being there!” Stan shouted. “He’s still just a kid, Stanford! He still needs his parents!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll call their parents and talk to them about it!” Ford relented. “Is that all?”

“No that’s not all!” Stan fumed, “It’s bad enough you’re offering Dipper an apprenticeship without gettin’ an OK from their parents first, but where do you get off excluding Mabel?”

Ford was taken aback. “I’m not excluding her.”

“You gave Dipper an opportunity to stay here with you, but not her. That’s pretty much the definition of excluding! Earlier today she was almost in tears about having to leave Gravity Falls and bein’ scared of the future. I had to give her a big ol’ pep-talk about how growin’ old is mandatory, but growin’ up is optional, and that even if her future ain’t so bright, at least she’s got her brother. Then, not even an hour later, you two come back from your science shenanigans and she goes wailing out to the front porch! All ‘cuz you want Dipper but not her!”

“It’s not like that at all!” Ford bristled. “Mabel has vastly different interests than Dipper. I couldn’t provide her with the same kind of quality education I could give him! At best I could give her a few tips about detailed pen sketching and blueprint drafting. The most I know about knitting is that I feel comfortable in a soft sweater, and she’d have to be the one to teach me about social structure and modern culture.”

“Oh, so that makes it ok to take her brother away?”

“I’m not ‘taking him away’! Dipper would be free to visit his family in California whenever he’s not busy!” Ford flushed with anger. “And since I’ll be his only teacher, he’ll be able to request time off and breaks very easily. His schedule will be much more flexible than at a traditional university or college.”

“He’s freakin’ twelve Stanford! He hasn’t even finished Junior High yet! Why are you so eager to start him on grown-up school already?”

“Why wait? Dipper is intelligent, resourceful, and a fast learner. He’d already started following in my footsteps before we even met, I’m just helping him continue on that path. And it’s not ‘grown-up school’. We’d be studying and researching the weirdness of Gravity Falls together.”

“He’s not an adult, Ford, he still needs time to be a kid! He can’t be your new research assistant! Now answer my question: why can’t you just wait until he’s older?”

“Because I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Ford’s last statement hung in the air, reverberating like a pin dropped in an empty theater. The old researcher couldn’t believe his emotions had gotten the better of him like that. Just like that, a statement he wasn’t even comfortable admitting to himself had slipped out. He couldn’t even begin to defend or explain what he’d just said.

Stan’s eyes widened at the unexpected outburst, but his face quickly morphed back into the scowl Stanford was all too familiar with.

“Oh, you don’t wanna be alone, huh? Well, maybe you shoulda thought of that before you kicked me out of the house come the end of Summer!”

“Wait, what?” Ford asked, perplexed.

“Oh, don’t play dumb!” Stan accused. “That first night after I brought you home, you said I could stay here the rest of the summer to watch the kids, then I gotta hit the road.”

“That’s not what I said!” Ford objected. “I said you could stay upstairs and take care of the kids and run your ‘Mystery Shack’ until the end of the summer, so you can continue bringing in enough money to take care of them. But once the summer is over, I want-- no, I need my home and my identity back. And I’m not going to allow you to continue running a glorified freak show that goes against everything I’ve worked for!”

“And why would I stay, if you’re gonna make me shut down my livelihood?”

Ford’s breath hitched as the memory of Bill’s words echoed in his head once again. I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO.

“Well, for one, I’m going to need your help undoing your identity theft.” The old researcher continued after pushing the thought to the back of his head. “And… I know you haven’t got anywhere else to go. I’m not going to just throw you out. I’m not Dad, Stanley.”

Stan stared at his brother with a mixture of surprise and some more complex emotions Ford couldn’t name.

“Y-yeah, well…” The old conman seemed, for once, to be at a loss for words.

Ford just wished he knew what his brother was thinking. The old researcher had never been good at reading people, but as a child, Stan, at least, was someone he always understood. But now, his brother was even more of an enigma than the average stranger. Ford found himself on the verge of asking… do you really hate me?

“Dang it, this isn’t about us!” Stan snapped, “Stop making this about us! It’s about the kids!”

“I’m making it about us? You’re the one who started complaining about something I didn’t even say!” Ford huffed a frustrated sigh. He was tired. Tired from a long day and tired of fighting. “Look, if this whole apprenticeship thing is bothering Mabel so much, I’ll talk to her about staying here too. I can’t give her the kind of education she needs, but perhaps I can find someone who can.”

Stan threw his hands up in disbelief. “Seriously!? Unbelievable! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said, this whole conversation!?”

“Obviously I have, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed with your demands to call the kids’ parents and include Mabel in the apprenticeship offer. Nor would I have caught your erroneous assumption that you have the leave at the end of the summer.”

“The whole point I’ve been tryin’ to make to you this whole time is that ya can’t just take these kids away from their home!”.

“I’m not taking them away from their home. You said the two of them have been here for over two months.”

“Yeah, and then they’re goin’ back home next weekend. To their parents. To their real lives.”

“Life is just as real here.” Ford said with finality. “I told you, I’ll talk to their parents tomorrow. That should settle it.”

Stan’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, yeah I guess it will.”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Bill Cipher #My Writing

68 notes · View notes