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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

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Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Six: Training Day

AN: Happy Black History Month! What better way to start this month than updating a black fanfic, which reminds me to say go support other black fanfic writers on Tumblr. And do yourself a favor and read up on figures other than MLK Jr. and Rosa Parks.

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.0k

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Seven: Specialty

We were in the library, it was a huge room with an open interior, lined with walls of books and several nooks to sit and read in. Charles and Erik wanted to explore my empathic abilities further. I picked at the loose strand of my shirt remembering the disgust on my face about the plain attire I'm wearing. I lifted my head, my eyes meeting Erik's and we began to play a game, pointing out the ostentatious items in the room with our eyes. A bronze lion head. Awards from Charles' ancestors. Ridiculous looking portraits. An antique cigar box.

"Do you know the extent of your empathic abilities Claudia?" Charles asked curiously, sitting across from me in a sofa chair, ending our game.

I turned my attention to him, "No Charles, people do not volunteer to see the extent of my powers. Being able to manipulate emotions tends to unnerves people," I quipped, smiling.

"I'm surprised, I thought that's what you do regardless of how people feel," Erik stated, peering out the library window.

"Erik," I gasped mockingly, and put my hand on my chest as if I was offended. "Your lack of faith in me, wounds me," I finished jokingly.

Erik snickered before turning around and walking to where Charles and I were sitting, "What do you know that you can do?" he questioned, as he lowered himself into the chair next to Charles'.

"Sense, feel and understand emotions, feelings, hopes, dreams, desires, and fears of others," I listed simply, shrugging my shoulders. "I can create illusions also. So, as you can tell manipulation is my specialty," I answered, spreading my hands out in front of me.

"Do you mind if you show me?" Charles asked curiously.

"You're joking right?" I chuckled in disbelief, arching my brow at him. "When I get inside people's head like that, the illusion can seem so...vivid," I warned, sitting comfortably in my seat.

"I can take it," Charles assured, adjusting himself in his seat.

"Well, it's your funeral, Charles," I joked, as I closed my eyes and allowed myself to relax and shortly after he does the same.

I reopened my eyes and looked at Charles, as soon as his grip tightens on the armrest I knew the illusion was in full effect. I watched my illusion through Charles' mind. He had to blink a couple of times before realizing that his sister, Raven, was lying deadly still on the floor. A puddle of wine red blood was forming around her and all he could do was stare. He could even smell the metallic stench of her blood as the life left her body. He tried yelling, moving, even using his mind to call out to her, but it didn't work.

"Charles," I called, trying to rouse him from my illusion. "Are you alright?"

"Charles," Erik called, and firmly put his hand on Charles' shoulder which seemed to break him of the trance.

"Pardon me?" he asked confused as he shook off his daze, realizing he was back in his seat.

"Claudia was asking how do you feel?" Erik repeated what I had just asked.

I was intently staring at Charles to see if he was paralyzed in shock or fear. Or maybe both.

"Oh...well that was quite the...skill. It's both incredible and terrifying that the images were so-" Charles began.

"Real? Vivid? Seems impossible to have been fake," I offered softly.

Charles met my eyes and nodded softly as I began to pick apart his emotions. He had never felt so vulnerable and useless until my illusion and he hoped he never had to feel that again.

"Well now my curiosity piqued," Erik stated, smirking a little. "Your illusions, they're that powerful?" he questioned, looking at me intently.

A proud smirk appeared on my face and I leaned forward, "I could have the strongest man on Earth cowering in terror in a matter of seconds once I discover his greatest fear," I confessed, grinning widely. My eyes moved over to Charles, and found that he was already staring at me and looked to be in deep thought. He had a slight frown on his face and had been strangely quiet. "Charles, are you sure your alright?" I asked, concern lining my face.

"I'm fine really, I was just thinking, that's all," Charles explained, flashing a quick smile. "We've seen your capabilities with your empathic powers, how about your telekinesis?" Charles asked, placing his hands on his knees and pushing himself up from the chair.

A smiled beamed from my face once again, "Well, I'm glad you asked," I began, standing up from my own seat and clapping my hands together. "I'm going to need two mannequins for this demonstration," I instructed, before walking out of the library. "And come outside, it's too beautiful of a day to be stuffed up in the mansion," I called over my shoulder, as I left.

I opened the front door to the mansion and it was a lot warmer than it was this morning and I relished in the feeling of sunlight on my skin, small joys and all of that. The land around Charles's family home was even bigger than I thought. No matter which way I looked it seemed endless. I spotted a stone bench and I made my towards it, hearing the gravel crunch under my feet.

I sat down on the warm bench and closed my eyes basking in the warmth of the sun. The sound of footsteps behind me cause me to look over my shoulder to see Erik and Charles both carrying a mannequin. They both set them down from about twenty feet away from me and I stood up from the bench, shaking my arms out as I did to prepare them for what I was going to do.

Erik and Charles took their places beside me, I closed my eyes and concentrated until I felt a familiar sensation in my hands. I opened my eyes, my hands were surrounded by purple energy.

"And now boys," I began, lifting my hand up and one of the mannequin's floated off the ground, enveloped in a purple energy. "For my next trick," I continued, my eyes never leaving my target, with a pulse of telekinetic energy I crushed it my grip and it fell to the ground in a heap. I turned my sights on the second mannequin, this time lifting both my hands as the same purple energy encasing the limbs. I push my hands away from each other, ripping the mannequin apart and the limbs dropping to lawn. "Ta da," I sang, dropping my hands and glancing between Erik and Charles.

"That's incredible! Claudia, your control is amazing!" Charles commented happily.

"That all I can do for now, I'm a bit tired. But as you can see, I'm pretty adept with my telekinesis, and with your help..." I trailed off, looking between Charles and Erik.

"There's no telling how powerful you will become," Erik finishing my statement, with an excited grin.

"Why do you sound more excited than I am, Erik?" I questioned, with a smile.

Erik let out a short laugh before turning to face me, "Because with your abilities the possibilities are endless," he answered, a smirk on his lips.

~~~x~~~

"What are we doing in here?" I asked surveying my surroundings. The small, personal gym had the typical equipment you expected to find. At the front, were some weight benches with the bar resting above it. Behind the benches at the far end of the room held two punching bags, some sparring gear, and some free weights. "I've already did my fair share of lifting weights today," I complained, looking back at Erik.

After my awkward encounter with Raven and Hank I finally forced myself to work out. It hurt. A lot. To say my upper body strength needed improvement was an understatement.

Erik smirked, "We may have powers, but it's still very useful to know the art of hand to hand combat," he explained, as he placed a safety mat on the floor beckoning me over.

I nodded understanding why this was needed, attempting to improve my general hand to hand combat without the use of my powers would always be useful. There would be times when I possibly wouldn't be able rely on my abilities immediately and I would need to stall before being able to use my powers against an enemy.

"First thing you're going to learn is a basic punch," Erik began, grabbing my hand and balling it into a fist. "You not only need to know how to punch, but where to punch," he continued, lifting my fist to his forehead. "You aim too high, you'll hit their forehead which is the equivalent of hitting a brick wall," Erik explained, lowering my fist too his jaw. "Hit too low, you'll get their chin, also not recommended," he said, moving my fist to a higher place on his face. "The best place to punch is there nose or eyes that's where they'll be most vulnerable," Erik finished, releasing my fist.

"Where did you learn all this?" I asked curiously, letting my hand fall to my side.

"I was forced to teach myself how to fight, it was the only way I could survive..." he trailed off, with a faraway look before he suddenly lunged for me, tackling me to the ground being careful enough not to actually injure me.

"Hey! What the hell Erik!" I exclaimed, sitting up on my arms. "I wasn't ready!" I complained, before blowing a piece of hair out of my face.

"Rule number one, always be ready," Erik responded neutrally, but I could have sworn that the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly into the hint of a smirk. "Did I mention places like the neck or the shin are also sensitive to impact. You should try it," he added cockily.

I glared at him, "You're such an asshole," I commented, as I got up and took a boxers stance.

Erik put his forearms up in front of his face and got into a defensive stance. I threw my first punch and I thought it was solid. I had a good arm on myself, apparently Erik felt otherwise.

"Come on Claudia, I've seen a sack of potato's hit harder!" he taunted obnoxiously. "Aren't you the same woman, who threatened to break a man's hand in seven different places," Erik reminded with mischievous eyes.

I quickly struck out at his neck hitting his jugular causing him to choke on his saliva, he lifted his hand to his throat, coughing hard as he rubbed it soothingly. I felt satisfied when he looked momentarily surprised at the force I'd used.

"Is that better?" I questioned mockingly, my lips curling upwards.

"That'll teach him for insulting and underestimating me," I thought.

Erik rubbed his throat one last time, "Claudia, that was not very ladylike," he finally commented, taking a while longer to reply.

"Lucky I'm a mutant then," I retorted, a smirk still on my face.

Immediately, I swung out my left hand attempting strike harder. I went to punch his abdomen, but he caught my hand and I drew back my foot kicking him in the shin. Erik caught a hold of both of my upper arms. My leg flew out to deliver another kick but he released my right arm just in time to catch my foot.

He tugged at my foot causing me to topple over onto the mat, he followed, dropping onto the mat into a position where he trapped my body with his own. I laid flat on my back on the mat staring up at Erik who had me pinned down with his legs that were on both sides of my thighs and his arms planted on the mat, level with my head. Staring up at him, I felt heat crawling up my neck and spreading to my cheeks as I became extremely self-aware of the position we were in.

And now being this close to Erik it made me realize that his mesmerizing irises actually had a bit of gray in them. Those stormy blue gray eyes stared down at me with such an intensity that a shiver ran up my spine. But yet I couldn't look away; his captivating gaze was somewhat beautiful, in a terrifying way. His eyes held mine much like the eyes of cat held those of a mouse. And like a mouse, I didn't move.

I felt the most peculiar sensation run through me, it felt as if my whole body was aflame. We stayed like that for half a second longer than necessary, stuck in our own world until the sound of Moira and Charles talking from afar brought us back into reality causing Erik to jump up and away from me before quickly pulling himself to his feet.

"Not bad for your first day," Erik began, clearing his throat as a way to clear the awkward tension that fell between us. Erik offered me his hand, I accepted his hand allowing him to help me upright. "But there's definitely numerous areas to improve on," Erik continued, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, and momentarily avoided my eye contact. "You are nowhere near intimidating or threatening as you think you are," Erik jested, facing me again with a shit eating grin on his face.

"You're insufferable, Lehnsherr,"

~~~x~~~

I stood in the doorway, half in the library and half in the hall outside watching him. Charles was sitting before the fireplace, an old novel resting in his lap as he read. The sunset sunlight brightened the room from the window behind his chair, and the sound of the other mutants' conversation from the dining room could be heard from somewhere down the hall. It didn't look like he wasn't really paying attention to the words on the page in front of him, but rather skimmed the familiar text absentmindedly while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

I rapped quietly on the door frame and Charles glanced up, closing the book at the same time. He gave me a small smile and I made my way into the room and sat next to him on the sofa, offering a smile in return.

"I must thank you for your help today Claudia," Charles stated, placing his book down next to him. "Not a good first day, the results we had got today have been less than spectacular, but your help was greatly appreciated,"

"Is that so?" I questioned, lifting my feet from the floor and onto Charles' lap. "I really didn't do much," I reminded, with my arm resting on the back of the sofa.

Charles looked down at my feet and then back up to look at me, a smile on his face from my action and I merely shrugged returning his grin. What can I say, those shoes made my feet hurt. Charles slowly removed my flats one at a time and placed them on the wooden floor with a light thud, his hands slowly massaging my feet and I flexed my toes out.

"Nonsense. You being there for moral support was a big help today. Especially with Alex," Charles explained, moving his thumbs up and the soles of my foot, which felt heavenly and I let my eyes flutter close. "And me," Charles added quietly.

My eyes widened slightly, "Really?" I began, tilting my head. "I would've never guess that from you Charles. You always seem so cool, calm, collected. Not to mention perfect," I stated smiling, just as Charles pressed circles above my heel and I tried not to let out the moan that was threatening to come out.

"Well, no one's perfect Claudia," Charles commented, massaging my left foot now. "My confidence was a bit shaken after Alex's training, but after hearing and listening to your reassuring words...you took away the fear that I have about failing these kids," Charles explained looking up at me, his face illuminated by his million dollar smile.

His hands moved upwards slowly running both thumbs over the center of the sole of my foot.

"Speaking of fear..." I trailed off and Charles brought his eyes back to mine. "I make you uncomfortable," It is not a question, it is a statement. It's ironic that I should make a telepath uncomfortable, since our powers are uncannily similar.

Charles' hands faltered over my foot, "That's absurd, Claudia," he lied, but I can feel it in him, the roiling discomfort, the wish to get away from someone who can take and see and judge his worst memories with just a glance in his eyes. "I merely wish to help you hone your empathy," he reasoned.

"Did I forget to mention I can tell when a person is lying," I mused, causing Charles' hands to falter again. "It wasn't my place, but I wanted to know how you were doing after my illusion," I disclosed, and his hands stopped moving. "I left you feeling vulnerable, and I feel awful about it. I feel awful that I make you uncomfortable and I'm sorry," I apologized, gazing at Charles momentarily before looking away and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Charles pulled my legs, dragging me closer to him and I let out a yelp at the sudden movement. Turning my head to him I noticed our proximity to each other, we were intimately close.

"I will admit that your illusion earlier today unnerved me, but I'm not uncomfortable around you, just the opposite actually," Charles clarified, as he cupped my face. "I am the most comfortable when I am in your presence, Claudia," he confessed, before leaning down and pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

Chapter Eight: Fun & Games

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the-dream-team · 3 years

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What I Would Do

Read it on AO3

“And if you come anywhere within spitting distance of my friends again, you’ll lose a lot more than your voice, Mulciber .”

Lily Evans stared down the Slytherin whose ability to speak she’d stolen with a well-practiced Silencing Charm. Unable to spit out anymore foul language, Mulciber narrowed his eyes and stormed off towards the dungeons, accepting defeat. She turned to Mary and gave her a small smile. That problem was taken care of. For now, at least.

“Oh, that was marvelous!” came a clear, familiar voice from across the corridor. “Evans, you’re one helluva witch, have I told you that yet today?” Jamie Potter grinned at Lily, one hand clutching her stupid stolen snitch and another combing through her tangle of wild curls. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew followed close behind her, as they always did. She playfully swatted Sirius’ shoulder and tugged at her shirt collar. “Padfoot, you know I can’t resist a girl who stands up against those bastard Death Eaters-in-training.” Sirius barked out a laugh.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, Potter, or you’ll be next on my hit-list.”

Jamie’s grin only broadened. “Evans, you drive me crazy, you know that? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what I would do if you started flying for the other team…”

As Jamie and her posse sauntered off down the hall, Mary sighed.

“It must be hard for her,” she said softly.

“Hard for who, Potter?” asked Lily in disbelief.

“Yes, Jamie, ” said Mary. “Having those kinds of unrequited feelings seeing as she’s the only girl here who… y’know.”

Lily’s mouth gaped open. “Mary! There are no feelings involved. Potter just can’t let go of an old joke.”

Mary raised her eyebrows. “If you say so.”

Unbelievable. Lily crossed her arms and furrowed her brow the rest of the way to the Library. Unrequited feelings my arse, she thought with a huff. Potter had been acting out the same schtick for years. She loved boasting about her deep, dramatic attraction towards Lily (most often in public places) and calling Lily’s preferences into question. It made her uneasy, and Potter knew it. Jamie liked rileing her up.

Of course, she had to admit it hadn’t started as a joke. Their third year, during a particularly rowdy Herbology lesson, Lily and Jamie got into a row over the Leaping Toadstools they were meant to be picking in the forest. After some bickering over who would be in charge of catching the mushrooms and a bit of shoving back and forth, Lily eventually threatened Jamie with a Bat-Bogey hex if she kept getting in her way.

Before she could stop herself, in front of the entire class, Jamie practically shouted, “Bloody hell, Evans, what I would do if only you were into girls.”

The heat burned so deeply on Lily’s cheeks that day, sometimes she still felt the licks of fire teasing her skin nearly four years later. The panic. The embarrassment. The fear. It all boiled up from her knotted stomach and racing heart, presenting as a disgusted expression that could only be painful for the receiving end.

Jamie’s usually confident smirk had been replaced with a gaping mouth and... were those tears welling in her eyes?

After the initial shock, Lily tried softening her expression, but the damage was done. In an instant, Jamie swiped a hand under her glasses, ran another through her fringe, and put on a forced lopsided grin. “So, er, you’ll keep me updated if anything changes, yeah?”

She let out a laugh, looking for the boys to back her up. They chuckled along with her the best they could while Jamie shrugged to the class and went back to their Toadstools, avoiding Lily’s eye for the rest of the lesson.

A stormcloud of guilt brewed in Lily’s chest the following weeks. Jamie had taken to staying in the boy’s dorm to avoid any kind of contact with her and the other girls. Sirius had stepped up, becoming extra protective of her and sending daggers at anyone who dared to even glance in Jamie’s direction. Lily tried getting her alone to apologize for weeks before eventually cornering her and Remus one day after Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Potter,” said Lily, breathless as she chased her down the hallway, “please, I wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie spun around with a dazzling smile. “Evans! Coming to tell me you’ve finally changed your mind?”

The flirtatious wink sent Lily over the edge, her planned speech quickly abandoned. “Oh, you’re impossible!”

“Don’t worry, love,” Jamie casually laughed, “take your time, I can wait.”

Completely speechless and beyond flustered, Lily had no choice but to storm away. She was thirteen and emotional, and years away from controlling the way her feelings manifested themselves. So for the following weeks (and then years) as Jamie kept up the teasing, Lily responded emphatically with thunderous huffs and exaggerated scoffs.

By seventh year, their routine became so practiced, Lily barely noticed her heart skip anymore when Jamie shot off her endless string of compliments. Barely flinched when Potter suggested there could be a question of Lily’s tastes.

There weren’t any questions.

She didn’t fancy girls.

Had there been close calls through the years? Sure.

On a warm spring day down by the lake, when Dorcas placed an innocent hand on Lily’s thigh while laughing at a dumb joke, had Lily’s stomach somersaulted in a not-totally-unpleasant way? Yes. Had she spent the next few months secretly hoping it would happen again? Possibly.

Had there been times where Lily caught her eyes wandering to the hems of skirts or lingering on Jamie’s impossibly long eyelashes, only magnified by those stupid, round wire-rimmed lenses? It didn’t matter.

Those moments weren’t real. They never formed as full sentences in her head, mentally blocked before they took shape. The heat on her leg left behind from Dorcas’s touch didn’t mean anything if she didn’t give it a name. Ideas could float untethered around her mind as long as they never met the ground.

The thoughts she had about boys were real. Shared giggles with Mary about Sirius Black’s sharp jawline or Amos Diggory’s playful charm flowed with ease. Her crush on Remus Lupin during their fourth year terrified her to admit out loud, but there had never been a question about whether she was allowed to let her imagination run wild over his floppy sandy hair and pleasant quiet smile. Boys were easy.

The thought of liking girls never would have crossed her mind if Jamie hadn’t said those words to her in Herbology all those years ago. Lily hadn’t even known that was an option before. Perhaps if Jamie had kept her mouth shut, if she hadn’t spent the next four years poking and prodding at Lily’s very secure sexuality, then Lily would never have found herself repeating the whispered phrase in her mind,

Please don’t let me fancy girls. Please, please don’t let me fancy girls.

***

On one unusually warm and breezy day in March, Professor Slughorn called for Lily to stay behind for a moment after Potions. She waved on her friends, promising to meet them at the Great Hall later for lunch, and happily made her way to the front of the classroom.

“Miss Evans!” boomed Slughorn. “I had a favor to ask of you if you’d be up to it.”

“Of course,” she said. The Potions Professor had always been one of her biggest supporters at Hogwarts and she rarely passed up an opportunity to lend a hand.

“You see, I’ve completely run out of Flobberworm Mucus and I’ve got a lesson on Sleeping Draughts for my first years this afternoon.” He checked his watch and shook his head as a group of fourth years started parading into the dungeons. “And as you can see, I’ve got classes back to back until then! My dear, would you mind running down to Pippen’s Apothecary during your lunch break? I can write you a note and let Minerva know you’ll be popping down to Hogsmead for just a moment…”

“I’d be more than happy to,” said Lily, eager to get outside and stretch her legs. The prospect of getting to see the little village outside of the usually scheduled trips thrilled her.

“Wonderful!” said Slughorn, summoning a piece of parchment and adding his signature in a swooping, elegant script. “A tankard of mucus should do, and of course they know where to bill it to.”

Lily grabbed the note with a grin and spun on her heel to head out the door, practically skipping on her way out.

The moment she stepped outside the castle, her lungs filled with a humid air, fresh from the previous night’s rain. Puddles littered the pathways, serving as an extra reminder to enjoy the sunny weather when it managed to crash through the otherwise constant cover of clouds. With a squeal of excitement, Lily shrugged off her robes and rolled up her sleeves, letting the warm breeze wash over her skin and whip through her hair.

A rare taste of independence played on Lily’s lips, curling up the corners into a wide smile. She held onto the precious moment alone, briskly walking towards the village as she imagined what life outside of Hogwarts had in store for her. Adulthood approached as quickly as the little shops and bustling pathways of Hogsmeade Village, and soon she reached her destination.

Faint, tinkling bells announced Lily’s arrival as she stepped through the front door of Pippen’s Apothecary. Sunlight poured through the large front windows, soaking the rows of shelves with a golden glow. Bundles of herbs, jars of multi-colored liquids, and barrels of crystals lined the shop’s walls and overflowed into its hallways. And towards the front of the store, a knobly old man in a well-worn cloak stroked a mewing black cat with round, yellow eyes.

“Welcome to Pippens,” he smiled. “It’s not a Hogwarts weekend, is it?”

Lily ignored the disappointed pang of being recognized as a student and approached the front counter. “No, sir, it’s a tuesday,” she said. “I’ve just been sent by Professor Slughorn to pick up a tankard of Flobberworm Mucus.”

“Ah, of course,” said the man, squinting down at Lily’s note. “Old Horace runs through that mucus faster than a unicorn during a solar eclipse.”

She let the unfamiliar metaphor fall to the side with a chuckle and watched the shopkeeper shuffle back into his storage closet. The cat nudged Lily’s arm with a soft meow, unflinching towards the clanking and bumping sounds of the man pouring a thick liquid into a pint-sized container.

“I’ve put Horace’s invoice in the bag here,” said the man, handing over a canvas tote with the mucus lovingly wrapped up inside. “He knows where to find me!”

Lily thanked him with and grin and gave the cat another scratch behind the ears before turning to leave.

“Now you didn’t hear this from me,” called the man as Lily was halfway out the door, “but Fortescue’s brought his ice cream cart out for the first warm day of the year, and I hear he’s handing out free samples.” He sent a cheery wink in her direction.

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Lily beamed and she waved goodbye.

Ice cream sounded lovely.

The cart wasn’t hard to find, as a small crowd of villagers had lined up to take advantage of Fortescue’s deal. The giddiness of being surrounded by adults in the real world fluttered back as Lily queued with other shopkeeps on their lunch breaks and locals enjoying an afternoon on the streets. When it came her turn to order, she received a generous sample of the mint chocolate chip and a sweet smile from Florean Fortescue himself.

She couldn’t dream up a more perfect afternoon. Lily walked slowly through the streets of Hogsmead, determined to drink in as much of the gorgeous day as possible. The trees, just starting to bud, swayed back and forth rhythmically, and the grass, freshly watered, still smelled like a new morning’s dew. She watched the witches and wizards stroll down the pathways. A short man with a top hat chased after a yappy dog while a large wizard peered down at his comically small pocket watch, and on a bench across the street from where she stood, two witches took turns sharing an ice cream cone.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes locked onto the women sitting together on the bench. They looked to be in their late twenties or possibly early thirties. Both wore fashionable cloaks with trendy hairstyles and one of the women was reading a well-loved book in between licks of chocolate ice cream, her feet propped up on the bench, and her shoulder leaning against the other woman. A warmth flooded Lily’s chest as her heartrate quickened watching the pair, shocked by how lovely she found the simple scene.

Lily watched as the reading witch, not taking her eyes from her book, angled her head to ask for another bite of ice cream, but instead of bringing the cone to her lips as she had done before, the other woman surprised her with a quick kiss. The overwhelming flood of emotions burst from Lily’s chest in a gasp.

She wanted what she saw before her. She wanted the lazy afternoon sitting on a bench, curled up with a book and an ice cream cone and a girl to lean against.

Her mind raced with thoughts crashing to the ground with such force that their echos reverberated through her entire body, making her knees week and hands tremble. Every blurry idea in her head racked into focus, each half formulated sentence allowed itself to be completed with an exclamation point. Lily stared ahead at the bench where the possibilities of her future blew open like a firework spreading across the night sky.

After what felt like ages of watching the two witches, Lily finally peeled her gaze away and forced herself to make her way back to Hogwarts. Every step felt like walking on clouds as she practically floated up the road towards the castle. That is until she came face to face with another girl wearing a school uniform and a stupidly happy grin on her face.

“Potter?”

“Evans?”

Jamie had appeared in front of her out of thin air.

“What are you doing at Hogsmeade?” asked Lily, praying her shaking voice wasn’t too obvious. She hadn’t been prepared to see Jamie while her emotions were this heightened. The pounding of her heart beat into her eardrums and threatened to leap out her throat. Jamie wore her usual crooked smile, so effortless on her soft features, mirrored perfectly in those mischievous hazel eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” said Jamie, cocking an eyebrow. That feeling of anger Lily associated with Potter and her teasing bubbled up to the surface. But it wasn’t anger she felt. It was fear. A deep fear of how Jamie’s playful jokes made her stomach flutter and her cheeks blush. And now that Lily’s image of herself grew clearer in her mind’s eye with every passing moment, she no longer had the capacity to bottle up and explain away the fear she felt when looking at Jamie Potter, who had always made her feel this way.

Feeling so desperately alive, she had to do something.

“I’m running an errand for Professor Slughorn,” she said calmly, “but I can assume you don’t have an excuse to be outside the castle.”

“Ah, you caught me, Evans,” said Jamie with a chuckle. “Look, I was just popping down to Honeydukes to pick Remus up his favorite chocolate bars. I could’ve taken the tunnel- and I probably should’ve considering our little run-in here- but it’s such a lovely day that I said screw it and walked the path instead.” She shrugged her shoulders, not looking too disappointed about being discovered.

Lily narrowed her eyes and put all of her efforts into provoking Jamie. “Well, maybe I should just say screw it and give you a month's worth of detentions, Potter.”

It worked. Jamie’s eyes widened like saucers and her smirk grew into a proper grin. “Oh, Evans, stop that, you’re making me blush! Merlin, what I would do if you ever switched your fancies.”

Jamie had walked right into her trap. With a deep breath and a pointed stare, trying to convey every feeling exploding through her body, Lily responded, “What would you do?”

Jamie froze, clearly never expecting a reply to the scenario she so often suggested.

Lily ignored the flush spreading across her face and continued. “What would you do if I told you I fancied girls. If I fancied you. ” Her heart thudded so painfully against her chest, she thought she might be sick.

Jamie stood slackjawed, not breaking eye contact, like a deer in headlights. The girl who always had a quick comeback or a smart retort for every situation had been rendered speechless. The painful reality that Jamie’s previous words had no intent of action behind them crashed over Lily like a wave breaking in the middle of an ocean storm. And now the drops of saltwater spilled over, stinging the corners of her eyes.

“Enjoy your time in the village, Potter,” she said softly as she turned away from Jaimie, escaping the nightmare as quickly as possible.

The ground, which had felt weightless only a moment ago, became hard and cruel under her feet as she trudged back up the path to the castle. How could she be so stupid? Why did she allow her bursting adrenalin to make her do something so reckless?

“Evans!” Jamie shouted from behind, but Lily wouldn’t turn around, couldn’t let Potter see the tears welling in her eyes. “Lily, wait!”

A hand clutched Lily’s wrist and tugged back hard, spinning her whole body around in a flash. Two gentle palms grasped the side of her head and cupped her cheek while hazel eyes bore into her own. Jamie Potter’s face was inches from her own, dazed and flustered and looking for a clue.

Lily responded instinctually with the only clue Jamie needed. A laughing smile of uncontainable joy.

Jamie crashed forward, meeting Lily’s lips in an exhilarating kiss that set her nerve endings on fire. Soft and firm, the years of pent up emotion spilled between their mouths and hands and bodies as they drew closer to one another. Lily ran her fingers through Jamie’s wonderful hair and bumped her adorable wire-rimmed glasses with her nose. She never could have known how good this would feel.

When they finally came up for air, Jamie’s face glowed with shock and happiness under the sunlight, her cheeks flushed and eyes unbelieving. Lily couldn’t help but pull her into a tight embrace and commit the feeling of her to memory, never wanting to live in the dark ever again.

“Hey, Jamie?” Lily asked into the girl’s shoulder. “Do you want to go get ice cream with me?”

Jamie tightened the hug, nearly suffocating Lily in the best possible way. “Oh, Evans, what I would do to get ice cream with you.”

#fem!jily february #femslash february #jily #jily fic #dylan writes #fem!james potter #wlw #harry potter #fanfic

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sneezingpotatoes · 3 years

Text

Merry (LATE ASF) Christmas xD

Over a year late, but... You know?😂😂😂 I come baring gifts! xD Gotta keep my word no matter how long it takes lmao

Okay so I got my ex-best friend to draw Draco for me xD LOL She’s vanilla and doesn’t know about my kink so I had to kinda sneakily ask her to add the blush and stuff lmao BUT FOR THE MOST PART, this is my OC Draco xDD She did a good job with it! That’s him feeling all sickly in the story xD I might get her to draw my other OC’s too! If you want her to draw for you too or see what else she drew, her instagrams are: @ixreikoluxi and @ixreiko_luxi ((Just dont message her anything kinky LOL but she does do commissions on anime art!)) Also I tried new things in here... And there’s a lot that be happenin in this fic so hopefully it’s a good read lmao xD

ANYWAYS MERRY (LATE ASF) CHRISTMAS AND ONTO THE FIC XD I think it’s around 15k words OvO ENJOY

December 23rd

A soft murmur slips past Draco’s ears through the darkness of sleep, earning a sleepy snort and a shift on the couch from the sleeping drunkard. The murmur wasn’t loud enough to fully wake the hungover excuse of a man resting on the couch, but it did plant the seed of a weak headache into his temples from the lingering alcohol flowing through his veins.

“...co ... Draco! Wake up, please.”

The gentle shaking of his arm causes Draco to slowly stir awake. The rugged man lazily blinks a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus through the dim light on the face hovering above him. He winces as he’s greeted with a sharp churning in his stomach from his heavy alcohol consumption the past few days, cursing at the situation entirely.

“Shit. Wahtimeisit..? Wahdoyouwant?” His voice was deep and groggy from sleep, words slurred from his mind and mouth both sluggish and still trying to register and function at the thought of being awake so early.

“It’s 10 ‘till 6am. I need you to do the Christmas shopping for me while I’m at work today.” The gentleman firmly instructed. Shit. He had forgotten about that. The rugged man audibly grunted, rubbing the sleep out of his tired eyes. “I left the shopping list and some money on the table. Do not forget about it, Draco. I mean it.” His voice was strict and bold, leaving a mark on Draco’s deafened pride. The gentleman locked the door behind him and was gone before Draco could even attempt to respond.

“Could’ve at least turned off the fricken light, jeez.”

He groaned, dreading the long day of shopping he had ahead of him. Every time Reuben had asked him to go to the store for him, it was always at least a four-hour endeavor, seeing how Reuben always had items on the list that he had never heard of, and the nearest shops around his area were all unheard of and he had no idea where any of the items were. Even if he did go shopping on a regular basis, he was sure that he would still be lost in each of the supermarkets. Christmas was in two days, so that meant that everyone was out and about, doing their last-minute Christmas shopping, just as he was about to, seeing how he had waited nearly a month to even think about the list. Yeah, Reuben had warned him about this multiple times, that’s why he had made the list ahead of time, but Draco didn’t care. Well, he didn’t care until now. The rugged man cursed to himself just thinking about the long shopping list and having to deal with crowds of people. Why did he have to do all the damn shopping, anyway? ‘It’s not like you do anything all day, anyway. You just lay around or go to the bar and get drunk. The least you could do is help out around here and go to the grocery store.’ He could hear Reuben’s nagging voice already engraved into his memory. They’ve had this conversation once before, and Draco hated to be reminded of it. He sighs, shoving away the memory and slamming his eyes shut, trying to return to the peaceful slumber that he had been rudely awoken from.

4 hours felt like minutes according to Draco as he was rudely pulled out of sleep by warm licks to the tip of his nose. At first, he shoves the clever feline back away from his torso and rubs his freshly licked nose, sluggishly trying to go back to sleep. Absinthe returns a couple of seconds later, gently sitting on his chest with a soft ‘meowrr’ that makes the rugged man bat an eye at the creature.

“Jesus Christ, cut it out, will ya!?” The man grunted, remembering that he was supposed to feed the feline two hours ago, and that he probably wouldn’t hear the end of it with Reuben when he got home. She speaks again, hopping onto the floor and stretching outward near her food bowl. “Alright, alright already. Shaash, I’m goin’.”

Brain still foggy from sleep, the rugged man brought himself to his feet, releasing a loud, well-needed yawn that forced his jaw to slack all the way open as he headed into the kitchen, feeling the patient feline watching his every move. He takes the can of cat food from the cabinet and sluggishly places the food in the bowl, having Absinthe instantly begin to eat the protein packed meal.

“You’re welcome, little bastard.” He mumbled as he watched the feline scarf down the mushy substance, gliding a gentle hand behind her ears. “Must be good, huh?” It was odd. Draco normally judged Reuben for speaking to his feline like an actual person, but it was actually quite soothing to say the least, as it brought a wry smirk to his face. Obviously, he wasn’t going to tell Reuben that. The black cat abruptly stopped eating and peeked her head at the man crouched directly behind her, purring when he rubbed the right spot. He gave her one last rub before getting up to grab a change of clothes.

He called an Uber after taking a decently long, hot shower and eating a slice of cold, leftover pizza from the fridge for breakfast. Reuben was the only person with a car around here and he had taken it to work today, so he felt that an Uber would be the better option at least. The rugged man scoops the money from on the table into his pocket, grabs the shopping list and heads outside into the freezing winter air.

***

The sky was a nice dark gray, not doing the sun any favors with providing any warmth or sunlight really. There was a cold, gentle breeze that would occasionally brush through his dark black bangs and hug his neck and chest, forcing him to pull up his short jacket collar as much as he could in order to shield himself from at least some of the coldness. This would be one of the moments that he missed his trench coat and fedora the most. Reuben had made him throw the old things out entirely and get a completely new wardrobe about a week after he had moved in. He couldn’t complain; he didn’t much care about having to wear new clothes, he just wanted to keep his fedora and trench coat if anything. The sound of car tires sloshing in a puddle of rainwater catches his attention as it appears to be his Uber driver. The driver waves at his direction, beckoning him to come over.

“So, where we headed?” The uber driver asked as Draco entered the back seat.

“Just to the local shopping center up ahead. I put the damn address in the app, why are you asking me? Do your damn job.” He muttered, eyeing the long list in his hand. He’s sure that the driver said something back to him, but he wasn’t listening; He was already in a bad mood and had to prepare himself for the long endeavor ahead of him.

The closer they got to the shopping center, the more Draco started to get annoyed. There were so many cars in the street, driving slow for what Draco thought was both to look at all of the Christmas lights and decorations hanging up on all of the lamp posts and just from the amount of people in the area period. There were so many people walking on the sidewalks with their families, friends, partners and just some walking solo; He was kind of glad that he hadn’t driven here himself. It would be hell to find a parking spot anywhere, and just hell to get out of here. He grunts to himself, noticing a few people wearing face masks that were walking along the sidewalks as well. He had forgotten that this was the perfect weather and season for people to get sick. It was probably the perfect place to get sick too, seeing how there were just so many people brushing up against one another, touching all sorts of the same products and just overall breathing the same air in general. The driver pulled over in what seemed to be the middle of the shopping center, having a giant Christmas tree on display to his left with so many bright lights and Christmas ornaments dangling from all of the branches. That seemed to be the hot spot of the entire center, seeing how there seemed to be a ton of families crowded around the tree, whether they were taking pictures in front of it, sitting and chatting, or just hanging out around the area. He paid the uber driver and exited the vehicle, instantly starting to make his way towards the nearest supermarket so that he could get out of this mess as quickly as possible.

Draco was hit with a little bit of relief when he entered the store, feeling the heat instantly wash over him as he grabbed his handheld shopping basket. It was short lived though as he saw how long the checkout lines were, and how many people were still shopping down every isle in the store. He briefly sighed, shoving all of his aggravation aside. He knew that he wasn’t going to get anything done fast if he just kept moping about the situation.

It took about an hour of roaming down every isle a few times, bumping into and being bumped into a good handful of times and scanning over the shopping list at least 30 times before Draco was sure that he had gotten a good selection of items off of the list and made the executive decision to check out. It didn’t matter which line he chose; each line was so long that it was stretching into an actual isle, causing multiple people to have to cut through every once in a while, just to get to the other side of the store. He picks the closest line to him and decides to start waiting now rather than later. Why does everybody have to be out shopping right now anyway? He thought to himself, feeling his arms starting to grow tired from carrying the heavy basket for so long.

It wasn’t long before other shoppers began to slowly file in behind him, causing him to feel slightly uneasy from how close they had to stand in order to be out of the way of other shoppers. What made matters worse was that the person behind him sounded like he was under the weather and Draco didn’t want to be anywhere near it. The thick sniffling that was heard from behind him made Draco internally groan. Damn it, he hated this so much. The regret was really starting to sink in now. At this moment he wished that he had went shopping right when Reuben had made the list. There’s a chesty cough from behind him that makes Draco turn his head slightly enough to see a young man sniffling helplessly into the palm of his hand. He rolls his eyes, feeling like he’s stuck in his current position. He knew that he always had an option to leave the line, but he had already waited 10 minutes and he didn’t want to be there any longer than he had to. The shuffling of feet in front of him caught his attention as he followed suit and scooted forward a couple of inches as the next customer was being serviced. There were only two customers in front of him now, and he was actually standing inside of the gap with the chip racks and soda coolers; He was nearing the light at the end of his tunnel. He knew that he could wait a couple more minutes and put up with this a little while longer. That was until…

“Hh… Ah’TSSCHiuh!!”

The loud sneeze from behind makes the rugged man flinch, feeling a gust of air and cold spray instantly hit the back of his neck. He slowly turns around completely this time, bringing a hand up to wipe where he had felt the sickly spray come in contact as he was greeted by a young man with short brown hair, sniffling and wiping his nose onto his jacket sleeve.

“Oh, come on, man! Are you freggin serious?!” Draco yells, feeling disgusted and aggravated at the stranger. The outburst causes a handful of eyes to veer over to their direction. The younger man could only give a sheepish smile in return, feeling way beyond embarrassed and nervous of what the rugged man would do.

“I, uhh… I’m sorry, man! It’s just allergies! ‘Tis the season, right?” The young man said with a pleading smile and nervous laugh, trying his best to ease the rugged man over. Allergies my ass. His voice sounded thick and strained just from that apology alone, and Draco already knew what this meant. He looked like a walking germ cell; ain’t no way that’s some goddamn allergies.

“Un-fucking-believable.” He muttered, looking at his hand in disgust. He was furious way beyond comprehension, but he didn’t want to cause a bigger scene than he had already. For this kids’ sake. The young man pulled out a pack of tissues and handed him one with a shaky hand. “Where the hell was this at before you fucking sneezed on me?!” His voice was loud with anger again as he snatched the tissue out of the man’s hand and wiped his own in disgust. The younger man quickly fumbled into the packet again to grab his own tissues as his eyelashes began to gently flutter shut.

“Ah’TSSCHiih..! Ih‘TISShiEW!!”

The cans and bottles in his handheld basket clanked against each other as the young man jerked forwards, diving into his hand full of tissues as his bangs bounced off of his clammy forehead with each itchy explosion. He would’ve crashed into the chip rack if not for the kind stranger behind him. Draco was relieved when the customer in front of him was beginning to load the belt with his items, allowing him to scoot up some again. It was short lived though, when the young man also scooted up behind him, sniffling and coughing so close in his ear it felt like he was practically shoulder to shoulder with him.

Finally, after a few more minutes of waiting, it was Draco’s turn to quickly checkout and instantly leave the store. The cold air greeted Draco once again, but he didn’t care this time. He was just happy to get out of that store and separate himself from that walking germ infestation. His arms were already starting to get tired even though he had two more stores to visit; He just wanted to go home honestly and take another hot shower to cleanse himself. It was about a ten-minute walk to get to the next store on his list. The fresh air was really nice, but it was awfully cold and starting to loosen up his sinuses. He had to sniffle every few seconds just to try and prevent his nose from leaking onto his numb upper lip.

His second shopping experience was pretty similar to the last store, minus the disgusting event, but the process went by faster than he had thought it would, and for that he was grateful. He peered down at the shopping list once again, having a wave of relief brush over him from seeing the small handful of items that he had left to get: Cranberry sauce, Asparagus, wait… Proscouittio? What the hell was a proscouittio? The rugged man sat down on the nearest bench, allowing his arms to rest by setting down all of his grocery bags onto the cold concrete as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed up the pediatrician.

“Hello? Draco?” The smooth and concerned voice of the gentleman was heard on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, it’s me. What the hell is a pro… scouittio?” The rugged man asked, voice still coated with irritation from having to be out shopping. He snuffled twice into a curled knuckle, giving the underside of his nose a quick wipe after feeling a faint burning at the back of his sinuses from the cold air. A light chuckle is heard on the other end from the gentleman.

“It’s prosciutto, not proscouittio.” Reuben corrected through a light snicker. Draco snarled, irritably bringing his phone closer to his mouth.

“If you’re going to laugh and make fun of me, so help me God I swear I’ll hang up right fucking now and blow this money at the nearest bar in sight.” His voice was dry and grim, causing Reuben to stop his chuckling instantly. The rugged man snuffled thickly again, lifting up his arm to briefly rub his leaky nose along his jacket sleeve this time.

“Okay, okay, calm down. There’s no reason to get all riled up.” Reuben’s voice had a naturally childish glee to it today that forced Draco to ease up a little, even if he didn’t want to. “It’s a thinly sliced ham. Very delicious. You can find it at Scardello deli a little way east of the Shopping Center. Oh, and Draco, make sure you’re reading all of the ingredients carefully. My parents are coming over and it has to be correct.” It was hard to pay attention to Reuben, seeing how his nose would not stop running no matter how many times he wiped at it. He had to keep sniffling to himself in order to barely keep the leakage at bay. He audibly sighs, as he felt his inner nostrils begin to tingle from the cold air just enough to make his chest bounce with a muted hitch. “—And a block of Gruyère cheese from the deli too, please.” There was a moment of silence before Reuben realized that he had been talking to himself for the past few seconds. Another muted hitch escapes from Draco as his nose and lips began to quiver uncomfortably from the subtle itch.

“Hehh…” He could feel his eyelids start to droop closed and his shoulders begin to rise from the third inhale that was audible this time and forced him to bring up a shaky hand to squeeze his nostrils shut with his thumb and forefinger.

“Hello? Draco? Are you there—" The hitch only sounds like a soft grunt to Reuben as he is unable to hear clearly since Draco instantly pushed the device deep into his chest as he jerked forwards twice.

“Kxxnt… Hhuh-… Eh’GSXnt!” The first sneeze was weak and soft enough to go unnoticed, but it made the gentle tingle in his sinuses rattle, causing the second sneeze to sound a bit more agitated and loud enough to get picked up on the line.

“Oh? Bless you, Draco. Are you alright?” Reuben asked, voice clearly coated with concern. The rugged man barely caught the sentence as he brought the phone back up to his ear, sniffling a handful of times into his curled knuckle.

“Yeah, ‘s just cold as hell out here. What were you talkin’ about?” Draco muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose with chilled fingertips.

“I said I need you to pick up a block of Gruyère cheese from Scardello’s Deli for me while you’re out. I must’ve forgotten to put it on the list.”

“Jeez, I need a drink.” Draco groaned as he massaged the bridge of his nose in irritation of the new item added to his list this time.

"Tell you what: I'll pay your bar tab for all of the hassle you're going through today, even though all of this could've been avoided had you listened to me." Reuben offered, mumbling the second half of his sentence in a matter-of-fact manner. Draco didn't care though. He was sold on the 'pay your bar tab' part.

"You've got yourself a deal then."

“Good. Oh- And Draco, be safe out there. Don’t stay out in the cold for too long. Make sure you’re keeping wa--”

“Tch.” Draco instantly ended the call after he irritably smacked his lips, ignoring the pediatrician’s advice. He didn’t need to hear something he already knew and was well aware of. Reuben wasn’t his parent. He knew how to take care of himself. The rugged man quickly stood back up in a huff and headed straight for the second to last store on his list.

The next store that he needed to visit was a fresh produce store. Reuben was very picky about the ingredients that he needed. He always wanted it to be organic and to be from a certain brand, which was very annoying and very time consuming to find. If he had been lazy and just brought home a random brand of the product, he knew that he wouldn't hear the end of it from Reuben. Draco didn't know why the hell he cared so much, seeing how it all tasted the same to him anyway. What was the point? It was all food; one just costs more than the other.

The list was growing shorter though, and it only took him about half an hour to find the ingredients that he needed, and checking out was a breeze. The only place he needed to visit was Scardello's Deli. He was glad that this was his last stop though. He was growing rather hungry and decided to take this opportunity to grab him some lunch with the leftover grocery money, if he had any.

Upon approaching the Deli, his heart instantly sinks from how many people are inside of the deli, and just from seeing all the tables outside being filled as well. For a brief moment he had forgotten that it was almost Christmas and that the piles of people showing up to this Deli wouldn't be an exception. Scardello's was also a popular Italian deli, famous for their tasty, high quality ingredients; seeing this many people here on an average day wouldn't be surprising either. You'd be lucky if you didn't have to wait in a long line that extended outside of the store.

Draco quickly stepped in line, wanting to save his place before someone else had the chance to and began the waiting game for the last time. He was happy, seeing how after he was finished shopping here, he could finally go home and he also had free alcohol on his waiting list. It wasn't too bad though. He enjoyed the scent of freshly toasted bread and the savory scent of spices that were infused into the meats. This was the best experience he had today for waiting in a long line, even if he had handfuls of groceries in his hands.

After waiting for about 20 minutes in line, it was finally his turn to order and he was relieved. There was a big glass full of different types of meats on display in front of him, all looking very delicious, but he points to the specific type of prosciutto that Reuben had asked for, along with the block of Gruyère cheese. The cashier nods to the rugged man and repeats the order back to a couple of workers that were slicing meat in the back as he pressed a few buttons onto his register.

"Prosciutto di Parma. Good choice. Delicate to the tongue and sweet to the taste." The woman behind him stated as she approached the meat display and stood beside him. She held her black suitcase to her side as her long, white lab coat flapped behind her as she turned to study the rugged man standing in front of her. "Hmm... You don't look like the type to eat anything close to prosciutto... Who sent you?" She mused, chuckling to herself as she saw the confused, and now irritated glare on Draco's face. The rugged man furrowed a brow at the lady, feeling offended by her choice of words. ‘Look the type’? The hell does she mean by that?

Her long, brown hair seemed to flow vibrantly behind her back, naturally complimenting her dark, purple orbs while she looked at the display case full of meat. She was actually very beautiful in Draco's eyes; he had to force himself to shift his gaze so that he didn’t end up staring for too long.

"I gotta $62.60 for a Prosciutto Di Parma an’ a Gruyère ." The cashier stated through a heavy Italian accent that instantly snagged Draco's attention and brought him back to reality. Over $50 for just some damn meat and cheese? What has the world come to, he thought to himself.

"U-uh, yeah, and I wanna add your uhh... Italian Sub. That should be cheap enough at least." He muttered, dazed by both the woman still hovering over his shoulder and the price of the meat as he fumbled into his pockets for the leftover grocery money.

"Ey, Giuseppe, put his order on my ticket." The woman stated as she gently grabbed his hand in order to prevent him from scrambling for the lose bills in his pockets any longer. “Grazie mille amico mio.” Draco gave the woman both a confused and disapproving look in return but she brushed it off as she placed her own order on top of his.

“Nessun problema. Qualunque cosa per mia sorella!” The cashier replied with a smile as he typed away on the cash register.

"The hell d’you think you’re doing, lady? I have the money to pay, you know." Draco muttered to the woman with shattered pride after she had placed her order. The cashier had told them to stand over to the side as they began preparing their food.

"Mm-hmm. Oh I'm sure you do." She said with a flirtatious grin. Draco couldn't tell if she was joking or if she was just being sarcastic. Or both. The childish tone of her voice reminded him of Lirin a bit, and made him unintentionally release an agitated sigh. "Nobody in their right mind walks into Scardello's with pocket change."

"Listen, lady, pocket change or not: money is money. Don’t give a rats ass about how it looks." Even though she was very beautiful, her beauty didn’t seem to filter Draco’s mouth nor his personality. He could care less, really. She could’ve been Beyonce in a two piece and he still would’ve said the same thing.

"Hm. Touché." She muttered, giving the rugged man an approving nod before giving him a light punch in the shoulder. “Can you not call me lady though? Don’t you know how rude that sounds?”

"Do I look like a fuckin’ mind-reader? I don’t know your name, lady.”

“The name's Sicily." Her response came out awkward sounding as she fought to keep herself from actually socking him in the shoulder again. “Gaash, do you kiss your mother with that potty mouth?”

"Don’t you ever mention my mother ever again, you got that??" He mutters intensely, having the cashier interrupt their conversation with two bags of food in hand.

She awkwardly thanked the cashier and gave him a tip before leaving the Deli. Draco followed her outside over to a wooden bench a few steps away from the Deli as she sat down and separated the food between both of them.

"Y’know, you’re being kinda rude to the person that just bought all this food for you. Here." She said as she gave him the bag with freshly purchased food inside. "That one's yours." Draco accepted the bag in silence as she taps the bench and invites him to join her and have a seat, in which he distantly accepts. The two sit in silence for a good few minutes before Sicily decides to cut through the tension. “I didn’t catch your name earlier...” She mumbled into her sandwich before taking a bite out of it.

“... Draco, I guess...” He replied annoyed, only staring at his sandwich rather than eating it.

"Well, Mr. Draco... You’re an asshole, you know that?” She stated through a soft chuckle after hearing Draco release a loud, obviously aggravated grunt in response, “An attractive asshole, I might add. And honestly, you just have the manliest resting bitch face I’ve ever seen--”

“What the hell are you getting at here?”

“You wanna know why I paid for your meal? I just wanted to make that sour face at least a liiiittle bit sweeter, you know?” The rugged man gave a perplexed look towards the woman sitting beside him. It felt weird hearing a woman speak so openly and without a filter just like him.

“...Shut up...” Draco half-muttered after an exhausted sigh, before finally taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Too bad. I’m not a sheep. I don’t follow orders.” She mused with a dorky accent, surprisingly earning an unexpected chuckle from the rugged man. He wasn’t expecting such a resilient response. He had to admit, she was a cute, quirky, and geeky person that made his heart flutter the more he talked with the woman.

The two sat on the bench oddly enjoying each other's company and eating the delicious Italian lunch for about half an hour. Even though it was really cold outside, it didnt matter to them. It felt like Draco was genuinely having a great time with Sicily and he didn't want it to end. You might even say it was a first date at that. She seemed to be the only person that could get underneath his thick skin and actually make him chuckle, multiple times at that. Wait a minute, what was he thinking? It couldn’t have been a date. They were simply just having a decent lunch together. That was all.

The half hour feels like seconds as the time flew by, though. They had already finished their lunch and Draco knew that he needed to get back and put the groceries away. Sicily seemed like she had her own plans to get back to as well, seeing how she was the one who had cut the event short. She did feel awful about ending their moment, so she paid for his Uber and waited with him until the Uber arrived to take him home.

***

Draco had an odd, empty feeling resting in his stomach as the Uber pulled up to Reuben's home. He was glad to be home and to have all the shopping finished; It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders, but he still missed the company of Sicily. He thanks the driver for the ride after he collected all of his belongings and started for the front door, heaving all of the groceries along with him.

Draco raises a curious brow as he sees Reuben's car in the driveway. It was out of the ordinary to see Reuben's car here at this time, because he normally didn't come home until late at night. The rugged man adjusts the bags in his hands, dismissing the fact of the car being there only to be halted by a stray dog crossing his path in the driveway.

The dog looked like a black and brown German Shepard, but it had a deep cut along its left eye and it was faintly shivering from the cold winter air. Once Draco made eye contact with the canine, it slowly sat down and wagged its tail, patiently waiting. For what, Draco had no idea. He had seen this dog before. Multiple times at that. Reuben would always chase the dog away with his shoe whenever he saw him on the porch, but Draco never understood why. The rugged man cautiously approached the injured creature with a struggling hand to scratch behind its ears and the dog instantly dropped its mouth open and let its tongue hang out, clearly enjoying the attention and feeling of affection.

"You like that, dontcha boy?" As if in response to Draco, the dog barked and hopped up to place his paws onto the rugged man’s chest, trying to lick his face. Draco chuckled at the friendly creature and gave it a hug as he couldn't resist the poor, abandoned animal. He knew how being cold, lonely and abandoned felt and how much value was in the slightest amount of affection. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge as the canine licked his cheek a few times. "Okay, okay, down boy! Get down!" He had to force the dog down, seeing how the canine was overly excited from the rugged man and his attention. "What’s your name, anyway?" He muttered, trying to find a collar or dog tag on the animal, only to find nothing. The stray dog sat in front of the rugged man with excited eyes. It was hard for Draco to look back at the poor animal, but he knew that he couldn't take him into Reuben's house. The pediatrician had mentioned that he disliked dogs with a passion; for what reason, Draco had no clue. He gave the dog one last good rub and slipped past him in order to get to the front porch. The dog only sat in place, watching the rugged man as he stood on the porch, glaring back at the stray dog with guilt. “... You know what, fuck it.” He says as he grabs a slice of the prosciutto and tosses it to the stray dog. Immediately, the dog grabs the meat and runs into the grass, tearing the meat up and swallowing it savagely like he hadn’t eaten in a while. ‘You enjoy that, little buddy.” He whispers before sliding into the house.

***

Draco released a light sigh as he was relieved to be back home and outside of the cold. Before he could enter the kitchen to set down the groceries, Reuben arose from the couch and greeted him with a cheerful grin.

"Welcome back, Draco. I assume everything went well?" The gentleman grabbed a few of the bags from the rugged man and led him into the kitchen.

"Yeah, but- wait, why are you home right now?" Draco asked, confusion coating his voice, as he sat the bags on the counter and began to take all of the items out. Reuben gives a slight chuckle as he takes the empty bag from Draco and throws it in the trash.

"I couldn't have you here while I wrapped up all the Christmas gifts, now could I?" He said, pointing at the elegant Christmas tree that now had multiple gifts resting underneath it. Draco rolled his eyes, aggravated at the fact that it would’ve been a whole lot easier if Reuben would’ve taken him to the store in the first place. “Oh, relax, would you? I thought I’d find you wearing an ear-to-ear grin from the clean slate you now have at the bar!"

"... Fine, just whatever... There better be a flask full of booze under there or you're catching fists." He falsely allowed the joke to slip off of his tongue, forgetting that he wasn't outside with Sicily anymore. Reuben doesn't mind though, and takes it as him finally getting into the Christmas spirit. "What's with the sweater?"

"Oh this old thing? You like it?” Humors Reuben as he stretches out the sweater in order to show off all the glowing Christmas lights and decorations on it. The rugged man only gives a disgusted look in disapproval at the ugly thing. "It even lights up, s-see?Ihktsh!" Reuben furrowed a confused brow as he barely caught the abrupt sneeze into a curled knuckle, feeling an overwhelming itch force entry into his sinuses and cut his shirt viewing short.

A sharp, breathy inhale was the only thing Draco heard before he looked over to see Reuben twitching forward with each rapid sneeze, catching them with the top-side of his hand. "Hih-Ktsh! Hihktsh! Hh-Hihh! Hih'KSsh! HuhISsSCH'ue!!" The power of the tickling sensation was so strong and abrupt that his lungs didn’t know how to function properly with the irritant fighting in his sinuses.

He knew the feeling of this type of tickle. It wasn’t from sickness, nor from hay fever, and his house hadn’t been dusty enough to irritate him the past few days, so it could’ve only been one other thing. A handful of muted gasps escape from the gentleman as he could feel his sensitive nose trembling in agony.

“Hh-have youhh beenn playi’gw-wihh-hih! Wid dohh-gs??” The pediatrician struggled to ask between hitching breaths as he grabbed a few tissues from off of the counter with one hand and pinched his nostrils closed with his other hand.

“Yeah, so what if I did?” Draco fired back, defensively as if the stray dog were under attack by the evil pediatrician. The gentleman only blew his nose in return, shaking his head from how intense the tickle was becoming. He instantly shuffled backwards after he blew into the handful of tissues for a second time, foolishly trying to expel the irritant as quickly as possible, only to rattle the irritant around and get hit with the full force of the tickling sensation. He coughed and fanned at the air as if doing so would remove the irritant that forced his nostrils to instantly tremble in aggravation. He could feel his body rejecting the irritant fiercely as his eyelids instantly slammed shut once again and his chest visibly bounced from the rapid, overwhelming breaths his body felt were necessary to take between each desperate sneeze he lazily caught in the handful of tissues. The sudden irritant caught both him and his body off guard as it physically tried to process what the devil Draco had brought into his presence.

“D-Dr-a’KSh!Ihktsh!! Huh’kSsh!! I-Ihssh’uehh-hih! HihH’ksh’u!!… I-Ih-hhehh-HH…” Reuben barely squinted his eyes open to share a struggling glare with Draco, trying his hardest to speak but failed miserably, getting lost in his own sea of rapid hitches. The strength of the irritant forced the pediatrician to instantly jerk forwards into the damp handful of tissues with rapid, itchy explosions.

“Hihktsh! Kshnt! IhKTSH-tsshIISsh! AlleH-Hh’Issh…! T-tIDSh’ue!! Hehh…D-dohhgs-s Hhgh-ihkssh’u! hHAH-ESsh’uekgshu! IH’KGshIEw!! Iksshu! Kgshu-IKGSshu!” The gentleman's body trembled with each sneeze as he struggled to take in a breath of air. He had foolishly tried to speak in-between the fit in vain as he had cut himself off with the rapid, tumbling sneezes.

The rugged man gives Reuben a questioning glare as he released four more tired sneezes in-between desperate nose blows and irritated coughs into his handful of tissues. He didn't know that Reuben had a dog allergy; He also hadn't played with the canine for that long either, so he was confused as to why Reuben was having such a reaction.

"I'm a-allerhh-hih... Hahh...! Ihktsh!! Hheh'kssh-ISshu! 'EDSh'ue!! Ekgsh!! IsshShishh! IGSSch'uh! Hahh... Allergigk do dogs." He congestedly tried to explain again through disruptive hitches.

Draco could see the pediatrician's pink tipped nose still twitching from the irritant lingering about as he dabbed away the allergic tears that started rolling down his cheeks with the side of his hand. He gave a sly smirk to himself, finding a hint of pleasure in seeing the arrogant pediatrician looking so vulnerable. It was nice to see Reuben knocked off of his high horse for a bit.

"Well in that case, I want a dog." Draco humored to the pediatrician as he watched him still trying to catch his unsteady breath.

"Hah’KGshn! Ihgsh! Kgsch! H-how consihhderate o-of... Ih-Kgsshn! Hh-huh... youhh." His speech was still shaky and broken from the faint hitches riddled between his words. He blows his nose once again in an attempt to blow out the irritant that had entered his nostrils, but it does nothing but dampen the tissues further in his hand.

The gentleman irritably tells Draco to finish putting away the groceries and to throw his clothes into the washer as he left the room to take some allergy medicine, already beginning to feel miserable. He also couldn’t help but give a little chuckle to himself, finding the whole situation to be quite humorous. He only wondered how bad it would be if Reuben were to actually encounter a dog in person.

The hot shower that Draco had been waiting for all day finally came and went, leaving him with a strong feeling of relief and relaxation. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off of his shoulders, seeing how he still felt disgusting from that irritating encounter at the store. Reuben seemed to be feeling better as well, since he had stopped sneezing when he got out of the shower. He had to admit: The Christmas vibes were definitely present from both the nicely decorated Christmas tree and all of the decorations Reuben had been putting up all over the house. It was his first Christmas with the pediatrician, and it felt like it was going to be a great one at that.

December 24th

The loud clank of a pan serves as a rude awakening for the rugged man as he flinched awake from the couch. He tries to open his eyes but instantly slams them shut with a heavy wince from the blinding living room lights. A few light coughs escape from his grasp as he sluggishly wiped the sleep from his eyes. He felt groggy today. Groggier than usual. He releases a sluggish snuffle in an attempt to clear the wall of congestion that must’ve built up overnight.

“Evening, Draco.” The lanky gentleman greeted from the kitchen, adding water to a pot before placing it on the stove top. “A pleasure to see you awake. I surely thought you were going to sleep the entire day away.” The rugged man remained silent as he blindly reached for his flask from off of the coffee table and instantly began consuming the alcoholic beverage, only to choke on the burn in his throat. That was strange. He thought that he was used to the burn of a little Whiskey. “How many times have I told you to stop drinking in the morning?” The rugged man winces, trying to clear his throat of the itch and now faint burn from the alcohol.

“Mornin’ to you too, asshole.” He muttered dismissively, hearing his own voice sound a little scratchier than usual. “HhUh-TDZSSH...!! EHh’GTSZSHh’UHH!! GOD--!! Damnit!!” He barely catches the first loud sneeze into the cup of his hand, almost spilling his flask from the force of the second loud sneeze that shakes his entire core. He yells a swear, feeling the most torturous burn scrape his raw throat from the loud morning sneezes.

“Ah. Lovely.” The sarcastic tone from the gentleman earned a pained chuckle out of Draco as he struggled to choke down another swig from his flask. “I’m expecting company over soon. I’d recommend getting dressed and presentable.”

“Dressed and ‘presentable’? Screw off.” Reuben only sighed in return, not in the mood to put up with Draco’s shenanigans. A mild yawn escapes his lips as he glares at the clock resting on the stand. “3:30pm? Shit.” He mumbled as he rubbed a hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the sleep away as he got up to join the pediatrician in the kitchen. There were a lot of different foods scattered across all of the kitchen countertops with other food items cooking on the stove as well, and he was sure that he saw something baking in the oven. “Why the hell are you makin’ so much food?” Reuben abruptly stopped cutting the vegetables on the cutting board and sat his knife down in order to share a confused glare at Draco.

“Draco, my family is coming over for the Holidays, remember?” His heart instantly sank after hearing those words. He had forgotten about Reuben’s family coming to visit. He dreaded this day as well because it was going to be the most awkward day of his life, which was probably the reason he had forgotten about it in the first place. “You do remember, don’t you?”

“HhUH-EGTSsh!! Y-yeah, sure. When are dhey cobin’ a-adywayhh? IH’TIZSSCH'ugh!! Shidt.” He asked between the forceful sneezes, dismissively trying to hide the fact that he truly had forgotten about his parents coming over. The gentleman raises a concerned brow at the second pair of harsh sneezes and gives the rugged man a quick gloss-over.

“My blessings. Are you feeling well, Draco?” The pediatrician doesn’t hesitate to shove a cool palm underneath the man’s disheveled bangs and atop his clammy forehead out of his routine pediatric habit. “You look exhausted. Then again, when don’t you look exhausted?” Draco flinches and knocks away Reuben’s hand in return, before taking another swig from his flask.

“’M fine. Your snooty parents must be talking about me already.” He humored, but not really. He didn’t want to offend the gentleman, but they both knew it was obvious. Reuben brushed off his comment, not disputing it either, seeing how Draco could’ve been right. His parents were a bit snobbish and he wouldn’t be surprised if they actually were talking about him right now.

“We agreed on 4pm, but knowing my family they’ll probably be knocking on the door any minute now. That is why I’d strongly advise getting dressed.” The rugged man leaned against the countertop in silence for a moment, trying to find at least someway to get out of this pickle he was forced into.

“Why the hell do I gotta act all nice and prissy just to impress your damn parents? It ain’t like we gettin’ married.” He irritably muttered into his opened flask, dreading the evening he had to prepare for. The pediatrician took a moment to compose himself, trying not to let the stress of the day wash over him and cause him to say or do something he didn’t intend to.

“Draco, can you please just wash up and get dressed? Don’t make this difficult. You can leave for the bar right after, I don’t care, just don’t embarrass me, please?” Draco gave the man a questioning look. He hadn’t heard the pediatrician ask him to do something in this pleading tone ever. It was... different. A bit concerning.

“Whatever...” He grumbled, silently slipping out of the kitchen and leaving the pediatrician to continue cooking the feast in kitchen.

He had to admit that he was a little nervous about meeting Reuben’s family. If his family was as arrogant and uptight just like he was, it was going to be a long evening. Especially if Reuben was acting this way about his parents, something was definitely going to go down. He did seem like the type to have parents with high expectations and standards, which Draco knew that he wasn’t qualified for. Even though Reuben was how he was, he didn’t want to leave a bad impression on his family, but he couldn’t make any promises either. He knew that he was going to have to prepare himself to probably listen to his parent’s brag about how much money they make and how proud they are to have a Pediatrician as a son. He released a long sigh as he collected a some-what clean outfit, completely ignoring the pressed suit and tie that Reuben picked out for him, and headed into the bathroom.

***

Draco took his time in the shower, not wanting to leave the bathroom at all and face a room of strangers. He already started to feel slightly worse from when he had woken up, seeing how his nose had begun to leak and itch more profoundly and his throat was really becoming agitated. He could already hear a few unfamiliar voices carrying into the restroom that made him uneasy. He was a complete stranger getting dumped into a family meet and greet. He knew that he would feel out of place and like he didn’t belong but there was no way to escape. All of his guests had already arrived and were chatting up a storm in the other room. He could make out Lirin’s high pitched voice, which gave him at least a little bit of comfort, but the other few voices made him release a tense sigh. This was going to be weird, but it was better to hurry up and get this over with now.

Draco slowly opened the bathroom door, deciding that it was time to leave the steamy bathroom so that the stuffy, warm air could stop making his nose leak so damn much. He carefully peered down the hallway, instantly being greeted by unfamiliar faces. There was a man with brown hair and glasses in a dark suit, looking like an older version of Reuben just with stubbles on his chin that was having a conversation with a mature woman, looking young for her age, with long, luscious brown hair; They looked like they had professions related in business or sales.

“Speak of the devil, that must be the man of the hour! My son here’s been tellin’ me all about ya!” The man in the suit said with open arms as Draco approached the group. He instantly pulled the rugged man in for a tight hug that took the breath away from him and caused him to cough over the man’s shoulder. “Don’t be shy! We’re all family here.” After a brief moment, he finally let go and gave Draco a good look over. “You look well! Seems like you’ve made yourself right at home.” The rugged man remained silent, unsure of how to respond to the sudden change of tone from his last sentence.

“Oh, don’t mind him, honey.” The woman said as she straightened up Draco’s shirt. “Donovan’s always been such a hard-ass to all of Reuben’s new friends, haven’t you, Donny?” She said, abruptly giving Donovan a death glare. “My name’s Colette.” Before he could even reply to the woman, Donovan stepped closer to Draco with judging eyes.

“I just don’t want my son to have any bad influences or distractions. You know how it is.” Draco took an uncomfortable step backwards, feeling the tense atmosphere weighing on his shoulders. He already felt like he was being pulled in both directions from both parents. The rugged man froze, feeling like the dark glare from Reuben’s father was judging his every move and action. He curses internally, feeling his nose start to run again, knowing that he can’t do anything about it at this moment.

“Dad I’ve told you countless times, he’s not a distraction. I’ve been doing just fine even with him here.” Reuben said through an irritated sigh as he stressfully massaged the bridge of his nose. Donovan instantly approaches Reuben with a stern voice, clearly not fond of the entire situation. It seemed like none of his words were getting through to him.

“Mmm. And just how long does this Draco plan on staying here?” The rugged man forcefully took this opportunity to turn around and grab a few tissues and wipe his nose, before the leakage had the chance to become visible. A hint of relief crosses over him as he quietly blew into the tissues. It was a soft enough blow to the point where it didn’t draw any attention away from the conversation.

“Ease up, darling. It’s Christmas. We came down here to enjoy the holiday with our son and niece. Besides, Draco looks like a responsible young man. If our son says he’s fine with him being here, leave it at that.”

“Yeah, Draco is SUCH a RESPONSIBLE young man.” Lirin childishly chimed in, hugging Reuben loosely from his side. “You should see how RESPONSIBLE he is when he’s drunk.” She smirked. Draco bit his tongue, trying his best to catch himself from saying an angry remark. Just hearing her sarcasm made him clench his teeth.

“Is that so…?” The voice of a clearly intrigued and curious woman fills the room as Sicily enters the house and locks the door behind her. “We’ll have to grab a drink later.” She flashes Draco a charming wink that makes him instantly look away.

"Sicily, darling! We thought you wouldn't be able to make it! What a pleasant surprise!" Colette exclaims in surprise as she embraces the woman. “Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

"Mom, relax. What are you, a police officer? It’s Christmas!” Sicily’s entrance cuts through the tense atmosphere as she gives Donovan, Reuben and Lirin a hug in greeting. “Anywho, don’t be shy now, Draco, was it?” She gave the rugged man a playful nudge in his side as she pulled him over onto the couch. Draco doesn't fight her as he allows himself to be forced down onto the couch, feeling both relieved that he got snatched away from the demonic man, but also, dare he say 'happy' to see Sicily for a second time. "Some parents, huh?" She says after observing Draco's facial expressions. "I know. Dad can be quite the handful. Just make sure mom doesn't get a hold of any wine, or that could be a real shit-show." She giggled to herself as she kicked off her boots. “Last year, mom had a liiiiittle too much of the holiday nog and almost broke all of my drinking glasses. Wanna know how? She was throwing them at pops for losing 10 grand in one of his stock investments.” Another, louder giggle erupts from Sicily, earning a darted glare from Donovan towards Draco.

“Um, excuse me everyone. Dinner is almost ready, so if you all could please relocate to the dining room…” Reuben muttered, placing the dinner rolls on the table.”

***

“Honey, this looks delicious!” Colette exclaims, looking at all of the food Reuben had prepared. It did look delicious. How one man could make so many different dishes all by himself beat Draco. He did a really nice job with everything, but of course, he wasn’t going to tell Reuben that.

“Let’s dig in!!” Lirin exclaimed before instantly chowing down on her over-piled plate. She was the first to make her plate before anyone else cold even touch the food.

There were so many silverware and differently sized plates on the table and it made Draco squirm internally. It felt like he was being setup. He and Reuben both knew that he didn’t have any knowledge about dining etiquette, or any etiquette in general. Hell- he doesn’t even know the name of anything that’s on his plate! He’s sure that everything on the dining table was fancy and had a L or Lu in front of it. He wouldn’t be surprised if Reuben’s family called their glasses of water: L’agua.

The rugged man watched as all of the family members delicately picked up their proper utensils and began to elegantly cut and eat the food on their plates. It was like he was in the realm of gods and goddesses and he was the only human in sight, attempting to mimic their custom. Even Lirin somehow managed to mask her gluttony. It was hard to even think about eating, seeing how he could barely survive the coldhearted looks that Donovan was darting his way. He could tell that he was subtly watching him, waiting to see which utensil he would pick up first and judge him if he grabbed at the wrong one.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Draco?” Reuben’s mom gave him a concerned look as she noticed he hadn’t touched his plate. “Your food will get cold soon. It really is good, I promise!”

"Mom? Please." She whispered, feeling insulted. "Hey Draco, wanna blow this joint and go get some drinks? Lirin tells me you're a real drinker."

“I thought you’d never ask…” He replied with a nervous laugh, giving Reuben almost a puppy dog look of ‘please let me leave, this is my only escape.’ His parents tried to talk them out of it, but of course, Draco can’t be talked out of consuming alcohol.

***

The music being played from the piano at the back of the bar rang blissfully in their ears as they entered the bar. It wasn’t too crowded, surprisingly. A soft aroma of alcohol filled the air as the two slowly approached the counter. There was a nice Christmas tree set up near the piano that lit up the room, with a male bartender wiping out a glass behind the counter.

“How can I help you?” The man said as he tossed the towel onto his shoulder and sat the glass down onto the rack.

“Let me get two shots of Bourbon for me and my friend here please.” Sicily ordered as she took a seat on the bar stool. The bartender nodded in understanding as he grabbed a bottle and started pouring the alcohol. Draco hesitantly sat down in the stool beside the woman, still tense and a bit uncomfortable with going into a bar with the pediatrician’s sister. “Relax, I just want to loosen up and have a couple of drinks with you.” She muttered, pulling out a cigarette from the paper carton and resting it on her rose red lips. She shared a short glance with Draco before it was awkwardly broken by the rugged man pretending to clear his throat.

As the night went on, the fuzzier his head was beginning to feel. He had only had 5 shots and he could already feel himself starting to get a little more than tipsy. It was weird; Usually he could down more shots than this without feeling a buzz this early on. He could hardly think, let alone keep up with what Sicily was saying, not like what she was saying mattered, anyway. Draco was sure that she was one shot away from being completely plastered, seeing how her cheeks were flushed and her words were so slurred that it was a challenge to understand a word coming from her.

“It’s nice to let lose every once in a while, and take a break from all this classy shit.” She says, hoping to break the tension while allowing a long sigh to escape from her lips, causing a stream of gray smoke to bounce off of the counter-top and disperse into the air.

"You're tellin' me..." Draco muttered, grabbing the shot glass from the bartender and immediately scarfing it down like it were a dose a vicodine. "I could barely manage back there."

"Yeah..." Sicily distantly mutters, glaring down at the shot glass in her hand for a moment before irritably scarfing it down as well with haste.

“HhH’EGJISCH…!! ‘EGSSCHIUH!!” The rugged man dove forwards over the counter, holding his glass of whiskey away from him in vain so that hopefully it didn’t spill when he jerked forward with both of his itchy explosions. “O-oh shit! *hic*” He yelled with a breathy chuckle, finding humor from both Sicily’s laughter and the discovery of a small splash of alcohol that had spilled onto the counter from his glass. Sicily had toppled over onto the drunk man’s chest in laughter, struggling to breathe from how hard she was laughing. Draco’s own laughter abruptly stopped as the burning in his nostrils was still intense and flaring about.

“HhUH…!!” He sloppily leaned backwards with a deep inhale, barely able to stay upright from the weight of Sicily leaned so close up against him. He can feel his nostrils trembling in irritation from the burning as he slams his eyelids shut and dipped forwards again, slamming his glass onto the counter-top.

“Hhih…! Hhg’TIZSSCH’uhh! *hic* h-HUhgDzZSSCH’uhgg!!” His reflexes aren’t in tune from the alcoholic fuzziness as he is slow in turning his head away from the drunk woman. The first sneeze flies over Sicily’s head and lands on the counter-top, but he is able to partially turn his head over to the right and aim the second slurred mess of a sneeze towards the ground. Sicily shrieks in surprise from the two loud sneezes, feeling his chest tense up and shove her forwards, but she instantly smothered her chuckles into her hands as she pulled away from Draco and took a sip of alcohol from her shot glass. The rugged man brings up a sluggish, curled knuckle to lazily wipe underneath his faintly twitching nostrils, only to feel how moist and leaky they had been.

“Sh-shidt… Hheh…” He tries to cup his hand in order to lazily cover the disgusting mess on the lower half of his face, but before he can even ask for a tissue, his chest inflates quickly, forcing him to lean back once more with a disturbed grimace on his face. “

Sicily sloppily reaches into her purse, fumbling over herself as she takes out her handkerchief and shoves it into his cupped hand.

“Pineapple!” Sicily yelled abruptly, before he could even finish the oncoming sneeze.

“HhUHh’G-ghhn…?” The forceful hitch is instantly interrupted as his fuzzy and sluggish brain tried to wrap his mind around the randomness of the word pineapple. He sat there for a moment, confused, still waiting for the impending sneeze but the tingling in his sinuses had slightly died down to a quieter itch at the back of his nose.

“Ahh YEP, works everytimee.” She tiredly mused, downing her last shot of whiskey. Two hiccups escaped from her mouth once she downed her last shot and she giggled to herself before she flipped the shot glass upside down onto the counter.

“I use’to do thaht with Reuben when he’ws younger. That boy hadth’ most sensitive nose I’d ever seen. Once he start’d sneezin’ there was no goin’ back. ‘less you yell ‘pineapple!’ a’the right time. That’ll do it.” She muttered, fighting the effects of the alcohol that were trying to make her pass out on the counter-top.

"Hey... I wann' tell you somethin' an... An' you bettnot l-laugh..." The rugged man rubbed his face, feeling his mouth and tongue gradually becoming numb. It was definitely weird. He was feeling a lot of things tonight, both good and bad. He looked at Sicily with tired eyes, watching her back rise and sink with each breath she took as she rested on the counter with her head faced down in her arms. She grunted softly, as if signaling to Draco that she was still listening. "I... I r-really like you, you know tha?"

"Oh, that's nice. Me too." She muttered, giggling softly in her folded arms. At that moment, Draco's heart flew out of his chest as he struggled to sit upright.

"I'll have the ramen too. No eggs..." She weakly reached out to grab Draco's arm and shook it gently, "Please no eggs. I don't want eggs." He sighed and rolled his eyes, realizing that Sicily must've been talking in her sleep.

December 25th

“Hhg’tdsszhh! ‘Egsschh!!” The two tired sneezes were lazily stifled and released into the air as he shuffled around covered in his soft blanket in which he wore like an oversized jacket. He gently scrunches his nose around, feeling the tickle remaining at the same strength. He was lifelessly lying on the couch, too fatigued to do anything. Too exhausted to even sniff away the wetness leaking from his sore nostrils. What was the point? He had been sniffling and snuffling all night; every time he sneezed, the wetness quickly returned anyway. He was so congested to the point where it sounded like he was inhaling pudding every time he took a breath. The room was still dark, besides the random flashing lights of the elegant Christmas tree in the corner of the room. He audibly winced from the pressure pounding in his head with the pulsing of his veins. Drinking alcohol all day probably wasn't the best call, he had to admit. He felt so worn out and tired but he couldn't fall asleep; Not even the word Christmas could bring his spirits up. He snuffled lightly, too exhausted to even sniffle as hard as he needed to. His body tensed up reflexively as a shiver crept down his spine, forcing his body to quiver every once in a while. Blankets. N-need more blankets. A-and huhh-

“Draco…? Are you up?” The soft, sleepy and tender voice of Sicily cuts through his suffering as he can just barely see a thin figure slowly approaching from down the hall. She slowly made her way over to the couch and noticed the poor, sickly body lying there in pain. Her sleepy expression changes instantly to concerned when she observes the sick body closely. “Draco, you look horrible!” She exclaimed in an intense whisper, not trying to wake up the sleeping pediatrician. She held his clammy cheeks and frowned, giving them a smooth rub with her thumb to clear the sweat away. “You’re boiling! And-- Oh...”

"Ehh'hoOo! Hh-hih- HIH'gdzssh!" He can feel his cheeks start to blush a light pink as he barely realizes that he had sneezed on Sicily's neck and chest; He wanted to pull away but he was too exhausted and fever struck to do anything.

“HEH'Ssgk! ’M-m alrigh’. ‘ll jus’… Jus’ do the sleep. EEH'HooOgk! Hih'gSHUHhgk!Tiredhh…” He muttered, finding it complicated to compose the proper sentences and to communicate in general. At this point, he had partially given up stifling, forcing his sneezes to sound like a mixture of a cough and a mild yell. Sicily gave him a worried look, finding it odd to see a person so delusional and out if sorts. She was too worried to feel disgusted.

“Hey, Draco! Wake up! I ne...ed you t.. sta... Awa... Ke..!"

Draco wasn’t sure what dimension he had stumbled upon, but he couldn't hear or see Sicily anymore; He felt like he was asleep but at the same time, he wasn’t sure if he was. The blackness around him began to swirl into a spiral as if he were entering a portal, and before he could comprehend what was happening, he was back home in his old house. All the lights were off in the house but the single overhead kitchen light, which severed as a homing beacon to the rugged man. There was a tall, slender woman that stood hovering over the stove, humming an all too familiar tune.

“Mm?” The woman slowly turned around to face the rugged man as if she were moving through molasses. The crimson locks resting beneath her shoulders dangled behind her back as she gave him a pained smile. “Just in time for dinner. Have a seat.” The bags underneath her eyes were complimented with a subtle dark circle, indicating that she had been overly exhausted and worn out for days on end. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“N-no, I...” Something isn’t right. Before he could do anything, the creaking of the front door catches his attention.

“M-mom...?” His words came out sluggish and muffled, as if he were moving in a time warp. With each hesitant step he took, the world around him blurred and swashed around, colors blending and smothering each other like dye on cake batter. The single word that he spoke seemed to echo for ages and bounce off of the walls and floors with a weird reverb like they were in a mutated cave.

“You heard your mother, boy.” A dark tone from behind brings a boil to the blood flowing throughout Draco’s veins. He knew that voice all too well. “Sit like a good dog.”

“You...” He clenches his fists, feeling all of his uncontrollable anger rising to the surface.

“Draco. Draco, get up! Draco--!?” He could barely hear the screams of his mother behind him as he was too busy dashing towards the figment of his father with a bawled fist, ready for a solid punch.

“I’LL KILL YOU!! YOU FUCKING MONSTER!!!” His own battle cries begin to drown out the loud crackling of the now roaring fire engulfing the walls and flooring. The dark, bulky body in front of him kept a cool smirk on his face, even in the given situation, which angered the rugged man and the fire even more.

“Draco, stop it!! Draco--!!!” The fear-filled screams from his mother began to cut in and out, almost mutating into the worried screams of the pediatrician.“Draco!!! Stop! Wake up! Blast--, he’s not responding!” Reuben yelled as he was holding on to Draco’s arms.

“We need to get him into some cold water, NOW! Start the bath!” Sicily nodded and darted for the bathroom, immediately starting to fill the tub with the coldest water she could. "Draco, you're hallucinating! WAKE UP, DAMN IT!" There was a slight shakiness to Reuben's voice as he struggled to pin the rugged man down. He had been in situations like this before and seen it plenty of times, but something about seeing Draco in such a broken state filled the pediatrician with more than just a little worry.

“I-I’ll fucking--... Kill you... I swear it...” The rugged man exhaustedly muttered, trying to punch the air but failing, since Reuben was holding him down in place.

"Reuben, the tubs halfway full!" Sicily yelled from the bathroom. The pediatrician signals for her to come and help him drag the sick corpse into the bathroom, in which she doesn't hesitate to do.

He was a tall, heavy and sickly thing. It took them a while to get him off of the couch with him fighting the two while weakly kicking and punching at the air as if doing so would hurt his invisible enemy. You could imagine how tough it was for them to force him into the bathroom, let alone the freezing bathtub.

"Help me get his shirt and jeans off..." Reuben muttered to his sister as he forced the rugged man to sit down on the toilet lid.

"W-whahd are yhou d-doig, pervert?!" Draco yelled, eyes sluggishly tracing the room and barely staying open. "G-Gedhh... HEH'Gdzsshiew!" The sneeze sprays the pediatrician’s pajama shirt as he temporarily flinches in disgust, but he doesn't let it bother him. He's in pure focus mode, as a trained pediatrician should be. "EHHgtsshnk!! Thad's whad you ged, b-bast.. bah.. heh-"

"Don't mind him, Sicily. He'll be fine." He says, noting Sicily watching with an expression on her face that he couldn’t read, but mainly to himself to give him some sort of relief while dealing with the given situation. He bites his lip, having mixed feelings about the situation. "L-Let's get him into the tub." The two nearly shove the rugged man into the cold pool of water, causing a lot of it to be spilled onto the bathroom floor. It only takes a second of being in the freezing water for him to snap out of it and realize where he was. Reuben sighs, feeling his heart nearly beating out of its chest. He had never seen Draco in such a state before in his life, and it worried him more than any patient he ever had. “Could you use this cup and pour some cold water over him?” He says, handing Sicily the small cup. “We still need to cool his body temperature down before he overheats. I need to go ge… some water. T-towels…” Before Sicily can even say anything, Reuben darted out of the room and closed the door behind him. She knew exactly what that meant.

“I need to ge… some water. T-towels…”

She heard him repeat it in her head. The tone in his voice when he said it. The strain and slight shake towards the ending. The pause in between and after. She gripped the cup tighter in slight anger. Two loud coughs from the rugged man jolt Sicily out of her own thoughts and redirect her attention. She can’t help but give the rugged man a good gloss over. He was visibly shivering in place, causing little ripples to bang against to tub walls. He looked like a dead corpse that still managed to breathe in her eyes. His red nose didn’t even attempt to hold back the sickly fluids that dripped down onto his chin and bare chest. He was too cold and out of it to care or do anything about it. She could see a tinge of black starting to linger underneath his eyes and his cheeks looked like pieces of cotton candy against his ghostly pale skin. She dipped the cup in the water on his side until it was submerged in the water and poured it over his head. He didn’t even flinch. He was probably too dazed to even feel the cold water, she thought to herself.

“… ‘ts c-cold m-mom-mm…” He barely mutters through chattering teeth, slowly closing his eyes and leaning back into the tub. Sicily immediately drops the cup and grabs the rugged man before his back can fully sink into the tub.

“Draco! Hey-hey, you have to sit up! Look at me!” She says, voice sounding strained from pushing the rugged man forward to sit upright. Draco doesn’t respond, allowing his body to fully go limp into Sicily’s arms. Sicily grunts, barely being able to keep Draco above the water from her current position. She hunches over the bathtub, trying to find the right position to comfortably hold Draco upright, but falls forward into the cold water on top of him. She releases a heavy exhale from the abrupt submersion in cold water and immediately pulls Draco’s upper half out of the water and into her chest as if he were hugging her. The rugged man takes in an immediate deep gasp and releases a handful of wet coughs over her shoulder, shivering like a madman. The woman gives a soft smile to herself, feeling the grown mans body tremble underneath her arms. She allows her fingers to rest on his clammy back, enjoying the feeling of his body up against hers so tight and closely. She closes her eyes, feeling warm from both Draco’s body and the happiness and comfort of Draco’s embrace. It felt as if time stood still for ages as the two leaned up against each other in the tub. Draco’s body had calmed down from the event, besides the constant sniffles, and they just sat there together. Holding each other.

“S-Sicily…” Draco’s faint whisper barely cut through the thin silence.

“It’s me, Draco.” She whispered back softly, still resting her head atop of Draco’s shoulder and hugging him. The rugged man slowly pulled away and nuzzled their foreheads together. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the company of the rugged man. She moaned softly, feeling the warmth from his forehead rub against hers. The warmth from his fever radiated off of his face against her skin, summoning a faint smirk to cross her lips. She can feel her heart race a little from the shift in the room as she feels a cold hand rake through the side of her hair. She flinches as the cold water from his hand drip down her left side. His hot breath comforts her as she smells a hint of Marlboro and leftover booze beam closer. She can feel his shaky breaths get stronger and closer as his warm lips come in contact with hers. He gives her a long peck on her soft lips, allowing her body language to convey to him if he should stop or proceed. She gasps internally, half knowing what was happening and half not. She doesn’t fight it though, and brings up a hand to trace a line down his chest as he pulls her closer and gives her two more deep kisses. He can’t help but moan as she gently pushes his head closer to hers. It was a very intimate moment, that’s for sure. If Draco had any questions, they had all been answered right now.

He slowly pulls away and nuzzles her forehead again, allowing them both to catch their breath. Sicily’s eyes were locked onto his as she seductively licked her lips, signaling that she was ready for more. He swallows down a cough as she leans up against his chest again, but this time, pushing him back and forcing him to lay his back against the curve of the tub wall. Draco is caught off guard by this action and flinches, uncertain of what she was going to do next. He can feel his heart begin to race as she starts to give him kisses on the top half of his chest. Once she reaches his neck, she rests her body on his and starts to give him pecks all over his face. She reaches his nose and gives it two pecks, feeling her insides start to get all warm and excited.

Her adrenaline was rushing all over for many different reasons. She knew about Reuben. She knew about him being gay and she knew about his sneezing fetish. She knew he had the hots for Draco way before he himself probably did. She knew that something was off when he said he needed to get some water. He couldn’t handle Draco sneezing on him or him being practically naked in the bathtub. She herself didn’t have the fetish, but she was overly curious about what was so appealing about it. She couldn’t knock it until she tried it at least; she was already in the mood to get dirty with Draco. It did give her a rush knowing that she had the man Reuben had his eyes on. She was doing things to Draco that Reuben would probably never get to do. Draco sneezing on him was probably the closest thing he would ever get.

“S-Sicily I—… Hh…” He whispered weakly, closing his eyes and slowly lifting a hand to his face. She immediately grabs his wrist and shoves it back down into the water and holds his other hand hostage under the water as well.

“I know.” She says, watching his red, glistening nose twitch above her. Another peck from Sicily occurs on top of his nose. She can feel his chest rise with another weak inhale. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Just sneeze.” Draco snuffles twice, giving Sicily a confused glare.

“W-waih wah?” He says, trying to lift his hand again only to have Sicily press more weight down against it and prevent him from doing so.

“You heard me.” She reaches her head up to Draco’s, using her nose to lightly rub against the moist rims of his nose to try to coax out the sneeze before he can say anything else.

“B-but I ne—” Sicily shushes him and pecks him on the lips before continuing to rub his nose in different patterns and speeds. He produces two loud snuffles, sounding both thick and wet, which creates a spark in Sicily’s eye. “W-wa- HhiH… Hih! W-wahd are y-you HiHh…. Hh-doig??” He manages to say before tilting his head back against his will, involuntarily trying to escape from the induced tickling sensation on his already sensitive nose. She reaches up to follow him, giving a subtle giggle, enjoying the chase.

“Stop fighting me and just do it already.” She says as she can feel his chest practically jumping with each stuttered inhale. Cold, clear sick coats the tip of her nose as she feels his nostrils twitching up against it. She knew that it was building up in there to the point where his nose was crying and leaking sick tears for a release.

“HhuH! …. Hh-hUh! HhIH!” She tightens the grip on his wrists in anticipation, feeling slightly aroused by it all. It was like waiting for the inevitable. A devilish smile creases her lips as she watches the rugged man’s face grimace in torment. He snuffles thickly a few times in vain, as the sick just leaked immediately back down anyway; he just accepted the fate of not being able to use his hands. He felt awkward not being able to have the freedom to cover his mouth. He wanted to turn away from her but he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. He curses mentally, feeling a little embarrassed but more irritated with the pestering itch in his sinuses.

“HIH… HHIH…! HHG’TIZGSSSSCHK’ughh!” She slams her eyes shut and flinches hard, unprepared for the sudden cold spray of sickly fluids. She wasn’t sure what position she was supposed to be in for the actual sneeze. She was too intrigued by the satisfaction of him suffering with his nose to think that far ahead. But this was something… new. “H-HUhgDzZSSSGCCH’kguhgg!! ‘HEEHGSSZCHH’uhh!!!” The second batch of mist sprays her face and she can feel glops of sick make contact with her face and chest that start to slowly drip down. At first she’s disgusted, but she is oddly satisfied in a way. The third sneeze hits her back-to-back with a new batch of wetness, and by this point, she feels like she’s being rewarded for her good deeds. A subtle moan is released, more to herself as she realizes that she liked it more than she thought she would. “Eh… HehhgKSSZCHHh’kt!!” She squirms, feeling a rush when his body jerks underneath her from the harsh coughs that follow; the rattling coughs remind him of how much he feels like a pile of crap all over again. Sick was all over both of them and he knew it. It was hard not to hide all of it, especially since he didn’t have his hands to cover or wipe away at it, and his nose was practically drooling over her nose tickling his. There was bound to be a lost of discharge. He can feel his cheeks start to flush a dark red from embarrassment as he tries so hard to sniff everything away. All he wanted to do was get out of the bath and hide on the couch. “S-sorry.” He mutters between sniffles and nose twitches, feeling slightly guilty as he tried to clean himself up without his hands.

“Thanks.” She says, kissing his now sick coated lips and giving him a smile. “Now I know.” Draco pauses for a moment, surprised at what he was hearing. Was he still hallucinating from the fever?

“Huh..??” He says, overly congested, trying to clean himself up with the bath water now that his hands are free.

“Now I know that you are the one… And this secret stays between us.” She said with a final kiss before getting out of the tub. The whole time she dried herself and left the room, Draco was still sitting there dumbfounded, overly confused about everything. He didn’t know how to feel. He was happy that he pretty much made out with his newfound crush, but… What the hell just happened??? Was any of this real..? N-no… It couldn’t have been…

“… I need to go the fuck to sleep…” He muttered before sinking into the tub again

***

“Reuben, I don’t care! I wanna open gifts now!” A loud, high-pitched voice rings the ears of Draco and causes him to stir awake against his will. “We’ve waited long enough! It’ll be New Years if we wait for him to get up!”

The rugged man sluggishly cracked open an eyelid to be blinded by the Christmas lights from the tree and the fire in the fireplace. Someone must’ve moved me back onto the couch… What the fuck… Immediately he feels his nose start to run like a faucet as he tries to sit up on the couch. He grimaces when his body aches and finds it a challenge to even sit upright. He sniffles a few times, trying to stop the leakage but it does nothing but make the sick dance around in his nostrils before returning back to the same spot it was in before so he just gives up and lets it stay there, too fatigued to attempt to blow his nose or wipe it. His heart skips a beat as he notices Sicily lying on the floor right beside the couch.

“Look who’s awake!” The pediatrician says, relieved to see him up and at ‘em. “Did we wake you?” Draco only sniffles in return, feeling grumpy and too sick to respond. He just wanted it to end. And by it, he means everything. This damn cold, flu, whatever the hell that kid gave him, Christmas, this day, pretty much EVERYTHING. Just leave him alone. “You should go back to bed and get some rest if you still aren’t feeling that well, Draco.”

“I wahs tryig do before your loud ass woge be ubp!” He yelled congestedly, coughing into the blanket right after. He winces, feeling his entire body feeling sore; inside and out. It felt like his whole body would break if he coughed or sneezed again.

“Okay, okay! Everybody calm down.” Reuben says, looking more towards Lirin as she raised a fist to him. “Don’t get too riled up, Draco. Your body is still recovering.” The rugged man leans back into the couch feeling defeated and overtaken by pain. He just wanted someone to put him out of his misery.

“I… I deed sobe paid bedicinde.” He mumbles through wet sniffles, sounding clearly beat down and worn.

“I’ll get them.” Sicily says, stretching from the floor before Reuben can leave the room. He freezes for a second but then nods in acceptance for her to get the meds. She returns a moment later, with the bottle of NyQuil and pours him a cup.

“I deed like… dhree o’ dhose…” He mutters through a strained voice as he shots the cap of medicine down.

“You ‘deed’ to blow your nose.” She jokingly mocks, pouring him a second cap full of NyQuil and handing him some tissues. He snuffles dismissively and jokingly steals the cap, chugging it down and returning it back to her with a mumbled ‘fuck you’ under his breath. She giggles, feeling slightly relieved that the old Draco was starting to come back a little. Reuben distantly watches the two from the distance, feeling a little excluded and odd. He knew something was going on here, but he wasn’t sure.

The gurgling sound in the tissues grabs the attention of the entire room as Draco gives one good blow into the handful of tissues. One blow and that’s it. Fuck it. He was too tired and that single blow took the wind and force away from him. He weakly coughed a few times into the tissues and threw them onto the floor, immediately sinking back into the couch.

“Let’s do the fucking gifts so you assholes can get out and leave me the hell alone.” He mutters, voice barely audible.

***

The gift exchange was fun for the most part. Everyone was having a great time except for Draco of course. Everyone seemed happy with their gifts. Reuben bought him a brand-new motorcycle so that he didn’t have to Uber or wait for him to drive him around. Lirin bought him a book on tips for being sober. And Sicily went out and got him a new flask with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a pack of Marlboros. One thing he could say was that this was the first Christmas that he had in a long while that actually felt homie. And it was the first Christmas that he had been too sick to participate in the festivities for.

“Alright Draco. Thanks for being apart of our Christmas and opening the gifts. We’ll get out and let you rest.” Reuben says, watching the NyQuil already start to take its’ toll.

Reuben and Lirin walk out of the room, leaving Sicily and Draco together again. She was sitting beside the rugged man on the right side of the couch. They sat together in a peaceful silence, besides Draco sniffling every couple of seconds. He didn’t mind her company. If anything, he was glad that she decided to stay.

“Alright, you’re tired. Time to go back to sleep.” Sicily says as she tries to get comfortable on the couch. “Come here.” She gently tugs on his arm for him to come closer to her on the couch. He exhaustedly obliges and nearly collapses into her chest, shifting around to get comfortable in her embrace. She blushes a little, feeling his head resting on her chest. Best Christmas gift ever, she thought to herself. She closed her eyes and raked her fingers through his damp hair, massaging his scalp as she tried to fall asleep wit the sick rugged man. She cracks an eye open as she feels the rugged man shift uncomfortably in her embrace and freeze before lightly jerking forwards twice, releasing two weak sneezes aimed at the floor.

“Hhuh’kgDTzsshn! Eh’Dsschkn!” The two weak sneezes take whatever energy he had left and he doesn’t even sniffle, feeling his entire body becoming too tired to do anything at the moment. He can only release a shaky exhale and collapse into Sicily’s embrace. She smiles, feeling overwhelmingly happy at the situation.

“Merry Christmas to me…” She happily mutters to herself before joining Draco in a long, well deserved sleep.

END.

Hopefully it was worth the wait LOL XD A lot is going on in this fic but I like’d working on it even though I had some intense writers blocks lol xD Like I said, I’m working on like 5 different fics all at the same time hahaha so hopefully I can post those because I been writing a lot, just not all on the same fic ahaha.

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thejollyroger-writer · 4 years

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THE WASTELAND - Chapter Four: THE ATHENAEUM // THE CABIN, Part 2

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

a/n: Now we’re getting into some really deep worldbuilding shit, and even deeper magic. This chapter took me so long to perfect, continually questioning the viability of the magic and magic-teaching and the Atheneaum as a whole... hopefully it makes sense to everyone else!

Header and the art for every chapter by the lovely @spartanguard – special thanks to @cssns for making this monster happen!

Prologue on AO3 // Prologue on Tumblr // Chapter One (ART) // Chapter Two (ART) // Chapter Three (ART)

Chapter Four on AO3

ART

– – –

“I’m so proud of you, brother,” Killian says, clapping his hand on Liam’s shoulder as he fixes his collar in the mirror of their shared barracks.

Liam meets his eyes in the mirror, flashing a large smile before reaching around to wrap his arm around Killian’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Killy.”

If anyone else ever even tried to call him ‘Killy,’ he would probably throttle them, but no one has ever tried. Only Liam has ever come up with a nickname for him, and though he knows the tips of his ears turn red on the rare occasion Liam calls him ‘Killy’ in public, he would always take ‘little brother’ over that any day.

It wasn’t a lie, though: Killian is proud of his brother. Very proud. Today is his promotion — both of their promotions, actually, though Liam’s is a much bigger deal than his own.

The youngest admiral the Nephilysis military has ever seen. The only dryad to even become a high-ranking officer in the navy. Gold’s son, Baelfire, even called him the ‘most skilled fae’ he has ever seen. All because he has honed his abilities in a way no one ever expected, combining his air manipulation abilities with his love for the ocean and working with an Elder and a Fae to create a whole new system for travelling: the airship.

So today is more than a promotion for the elder Jones brother; it is also the day Liam gets a ship of his own, the perfect and pristine Jewel of the Realm, whose flying technologies include the best of everything Killian and Liam, with the help of Merlin and the rest of Gold's elders, have created over the last eight years working for Gold.

The ceremony, though filled with age-old traditions, does not take nearly as long as Killian anticipated, even with both of them receiving promotions: Liam to Admiral of the Jewel of the Realm and a small fleet of ships equipped for air travel and Killian as Captain, serving directly under his brother for the time being.

The ceremony does not take long, but the meeting that he and Liam have directly afterwards, where they are getting their first assignments in their new positions, is proving to be the opposite.

Killian had assumed that the only business of the meeting would be giving them their assignments, and he had been dead wrong. Instead of only them, he and Liam found themselves meeting with Gold’s entire war council, which included the Elders for each Nephilim faction, other admirals and generals from all across the Wasteland — not to mention the Prince and his band of Elders and guards, much younger and less traditional than Gold’s men. It’s a stark contrast in the room, really, between the Elders who follow Gold and those who follow his son, between those in traditional Nephilysis uniforms and those in jeans and sweatshirts. Killian would never dare to show up to a meeting with Gold the Elder, the King of Nephilysis, the man that he serves under, wearing jeans. Hell, he would be embarrassed to even be seen by the King of Nephilysis wearing jeans — but he supposes that Baelfire and his collection of followers lead a very different, and much more privileged, life than he does.

Finally, after what feels like hours — though, according to Killian’s wristwatch proves to only be an hour and a half — Gold turns his attention to the Jones brothers for the first time.

“Now, as for the newest members of this council,” he says, his voice odd in a way Killian struggles to describe, though slimy comes to mind. He smiles, though there is not a happy thing about it, more sinister than anything else. “Many of you should already know about Admiral Jones’ work with his airships, so now it’s time to give him and his small fleet of Captains their first destination. I’m very pleased that we are now able to go to far-off places thanks to the hard word of Admiral Jones, and so it is an honor to finally announce that he will be leading an expedition to somewhere my advisors and I have had our sights set on for a while now.”

He says nothing beyond this, waiting for every eye in the room to be on him. The last to look up, Killian notices, is Prince Baelfire, who rolls his eyes when he realizes what his father is doing, but looks up at him nonetheless. Finally, Gold turns back to Killian and Liam, that same sinister smile on his face again.

“Neverland!’ he says with a laugh even more sinister that chills Killian to the bone.

There is just something about him that Killian strongly dislikes but he can’t figure out what. He realizes, perhaps a moment too late, that he may have let his disgust with him show on his face, and tries to wipe off all expression --and then realizes exactly what Gold just said to them.

When he turns to Liam, his brother looks just as confused as he feels. “How is it I’ve studied maps of the world practically my whole life and yet I’ve never heard of this place, this Neverland?”

Gold’s slimy smile grows, somehow. It takes all of Killian’s energy not to cringe, though he’s useless against the confusion he feels when the Prince answers Liam’s question instead of the King. “Well, because Neverland isn’t on any map, it’s not somewhere you can navigate to.”

It’s time for Killian to voice his concern, turning to the Prince. “Then how are we supposed to get there?”

But Gold himself answers instead. “There’s only one man who has ever made it to the island and returned, so he is going to join you.” He gestures towards the door just as a young man — much younger than even the youngest recruits, Killian notices — pushes through the door, as if on cue. Out of anyone in the room, his eyes meet Killian’s, a smile just as sinister, if not more, than the King’s, spread across his face. “Admiral, Captain, this is Peter Pan.”

Liam slams the door to their barracks behind him, the anger that he’s been trying to keep off his face suddenly obvious.

“He can’t be serious, can he?” he practically yells, furiously pacing between the close walls of their cabin. “That Pan, he’s — he’s just a boy. He speaks so highly of himself, as if he has more knowledge than anyone else in the room.”

“I hate to say it, brother, but I do believe there is more to that boy than meets the eye,” Killian responds, sitting down on one of the chairs in their common area.

Liam whips around. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t — he could be…” He shakes his head, then rests it in his hands. “One of the books I read recently spoke of these… these beings who don’t age, who are from all of these weird lands, and I thought it was fantasy, just a myth, but then I saw this—this boy, and I got this… I don’t know, this feeling that he was one of them.”

“Killy, that’s insane.”

“I thought it was insane, too, but now I’m not too sure.”

Liam pushes his fingers through his hair, huffing, but sits down next to him anyway. “What else did your book say about them?” he asks finally, the words coming out slowly.

“Dark magic, Liam. They’re creatures of pure black magic.”

Liam shakes his head. “King Gold does a lot of things, brother, but I cannot believe that he would go to that extreme.”

“That’s not all. Not only are they dark magic, but the places they come from are the same, are home to the darkest magics of the world, items and poisons and weapons. This Neverland, I’ve never heard of it, but I can only imagine that it’s one of these places.”

He is still shaking his head. “No. No, I refuse to believe it. King Gold is— he’s corrupt, yes, but dark magic? That’s insane, Killian.”

“I’m just telling you what I read.”

Liam stands up again, continuing with his pacing where he left off. “Dark magic,” he whispers, scrubbing his face with his hand, then he starts to unbutton the jacket of his dress uniform. “You don’t think King Gold would send us on a mission to collect dark magic, do you?”

Killian does, a fear that he feels seeping into the deepest parts of him — but he just shakes his head. He may think Gold is evil enough to send them to a land of dark magic, but to say it out loud, even to his brother, would be treason. Bad form.

The gates to the Athenaeum loom above them, shining in the golden sunlight of the dawn. It took them a whole day’s drive to get there, opting to go around the bulk of the city instead of through it, hoping to keep as much attention off of them as they can, even if it meant adding another four hours in the car.

Regina has never much cared for the second entrance to the Athenaeum, never afraid to travel through the city because of her immunity, both an atheneid and an Elder on the Gale Council. But she understands how careful Emma and Mary Margaret want to be, being so close to the Prince himself.

With a huff, Regina checks her watch. It’s been almost a minute since she knocked on the door, and there has still been no sign of movement on the other side of the gate. Finally, one of the gates swings open, revealing a dark-skinned Naphilm soldier in a dress uniform — something Regina hasn’t seen for years, since she was a young woman studying to become an elder and an atheneid. Something she never thought she was going to see again once she left Nephilysis behind.

"State your business." His voice is sinister, angry, but he is unable to deny them access once Regina shows him her credentials as an atheneid, which allows her access to the Athenaeum and no questions asked about her allegiance. He doesn’t let them any further than inside the gates, though, barring them from walking any closer to the building.

Even still, Regina rolls her eyes when he stands in the middle of the path, keeping them from going any further. "We're here for a meeting with Magistra French, she's expecting us."

He doesn’t budge. "You're going to have to wait here for her to come get you."

Both Emma and Mary Margaret take a terrified look around, noticing all of the Nephilim in uniform around the building, both as guards and simply sitting in the gardens in the gated area around the Athenaeum, more than either of them have seen in a single place.

Regina stands her ground, conjuring a fire ball in her right hand without breaking eye contact with the guard. "Both you and I know that's not the protocol." Her voice is hard, confident, one she has had more than enough practice with as a member of King George’s council.

"Gold has changed the protocol," the guard growls. He tries to make himself taller, tries to tower over Regina, but he is still a few inches shorter than her in her heels.

Her fireball grows bigger., her eyes wider "He doesn't have the power to do that, not here."

"Tell him that yourself and see how willing to listen to you he is."

A flash of fear crosses her face, and the guard laughs, only to be stopped by the doors behind him opening to reveal the Magistra herself. She, unlike the guards, is dressed much more casually, in a pair of black jeans and a yellow button-down top. After narrowing her eyes towards the guard, who has now stepped to the side, she smiles at the three ladies, her eyes landing last on Emma, holding there for a moment before returning to Regina.

"Please, Regina, come in."

She has a thick accent, different than Emma has heard, though she assumes it’s from the southern parts of Nephilysis, perhaps even the islands off the coast, knowing the accents get stronger the further from the Wasteland.

“Thank you for travelling all the way out here, ladies,” she says, leading them through the entryway to the building and through the stacks. “And on such short notice.”

“Thank you for seeing us,” Mary Margaret says, voicing the words that Emma is somehow unable to vocalize.

Instead, she is focused on the sights around her, the wooden stacks of books that stretch to the high ceilings. Emma has been to some of the smaller universities around the Gale, traveling with Johanna while honing her medical and magical abilities, or with David after she formally became personal aide to the prince, but none of them are anything like this, even the biggest ones in the Gale.

Emma has always wondered — silently, never voicing her questions — why this is the place that every Elder must come to study the arts under the Magistra, thanks to an order by one of the previous King Gold’s (Emma can’t remember which one, never needing to memorize it for academia.)

But she understands it now, following the Magistra and Regina through the building with Mary Margaret taking the rear. There are rows and rows of books in every direction, seemingly endless in the monstrous building. Every once in a while, the repetitive rows are dotted with a collection of tables; broken by a staircase, leading to another floor; or a small study room surrounded by glass walls, some of them covered in writing from the people inside.

Belle leads them up one of these sets of steps and down a small hallway, placing her hand against a biolock not unlike the ones Emma uses in the hospital to open one of the identical doors. Emma notices the large, intricate “M” carved into the dark wooden door as she walks through it, and her suspicions are confirmed when she finds herself in a large office, the walls lined with bookshelves only broken by a window that overlooks a small courtyard. The books, she notices, are some of the oldest she has ever seen, and meticulously organized in some sort of fashion that puts the dusty, cracked ones with pages visibly falling out near the edges of the bookshelf, allowing the bulk of the entire middle to be lined with matching sets and collections of different-colored leather-bound volumes. Many of them do not have words printed on their spines, some of them only letters, if anything at all.

Belle sits down behind the desk, folding her perfectly-manicured fingers in front of her. She allows herself to look at each of them for a few seconds, once again ending with Emma, but this time she does not look away.

"Your phone call sounded urgent, please tell me what I can do to help."

Even though the call did not come from Emma, the question is obviously directed at her, but when Emma fails to voice any response, Regina speaks up. "Emma, this is your story, I think it's only fair."

She takes a small breath, gulps, then clears her throat. For some reason, just the thought of relaying the story to someone as important as an Atheneid — as the Magistra herself — brings a new sense of realness to their situation.

And with that comes a new sense of fear.

From the first time she felt the way the wound on Killian's chest reacted to her magic, she found herself afraid to share it with anyone, sure that it was some sort of secret that she would never be able to discover the meaning behind. (Sure that Killian wouldn't be alive long enough to allow it, really.) And when she learned that it was her magic that did it, and not just light magic responding to the darkness and the poison in the wound, she was even more sure that this was not something to take lightly.

So needing to recall the whole story to the most important fae in the world at the hunch of Regina made her a little uneasy.

But she does it anyway, every eye in the room on her as she tells a shortened version: finding Killian in her office, her ability to heal his wounds save the ones seeping with dark magic, and describing as best she can what happens when she tries to use her magic on them, since this is the detail that made Regina so sure they had to come here.

At this, Belle's eyes go wide, and she jumps out of her seat and starts to search the wall behind her for something.

Emma is too stunned by her response to say even another word, though she did come to the end of her tale, save the very little information Regina gave them in the cabin before they left. Sensing either her shock or the fact that her recollection has come to its end, Regina takes over. "I remembered what you showed me once in one of the obscure healing books that you insisted I memorized, something I haven't thought about in years, and when I gave him a vial of SOMETHING she was able to extract the Dreamshade from his wound for just a moment."

Belle turns around from the shelf, bright eyes wide with both excitement and awe. "So you're thinking she's—"

Regina doesn't let her finish. "Yes, I'm almost sure of it, but I knew I had to bring her here to know for sure."

“Has she tried it with other poisons?”

Both Regina and Belle turn to her, waiting for an answer. “I’ve never dealt with other poisons. Only Dreamshade once before, and I never tried to do anything to it with my magic.”

Belle nods. “And what about this man? The one you healed? Are you also thinking that he's—"

"The one from the—"

"Yes."

"I'm almost sure of it."

“What about him?” Emma asks, having enough of their half-conversation.

“Did you try any other magic on him? Any other strange reactions?”

“What do you mean, strange reactions?”

Belle's response comes in a rush, more words than Emma is able to focus on as she thinks back to try to answer the questions: “How about when you tried to heal him, did anything else out of the ordinary happen? Any… energies that seemed off? Weird feelings from either of you, but especially you? Did anything work better than you expected, or seem to happen instantly when you know it’s taken more time in the past?”

The breath leaves Emma's lungs. She really wishes things would stop taking her breath away. Belle must sense something, must know that this has riled Emma's memory, and she watches her in anticipation across the desk.

"Well, yes," she says finally, once again able to regulate her breath. "Many of his wounds were less severe, just cuts and gashes on his chest, and many of them not only healed in response to my magic, but disappeared entirely. Not even a scar."

Belle's eyes go wide, even wider than they already were, and she turns back down to the book spread across the desk in front of her.

Silence overtakes the room, and Emma tries to decipher some of the writing that Belle is looking so intently at, only to find it written in a language that does not look familiar to her at all.

"Can somebody please tell me what's going on?" she asks, trying to keep her voice calm, but her heart is pounding wildly in her chest — another side effect from the events of the last two weeks that she wishes would just disappear.

Belle shuts the volume in front of her, folding her hands on top of it. With her head hung, she takes a breath, obvious in the rise and fall of her shoulders, before looking back at Emma.

"There's a prophecy," she says.

Emma scoffs, stopping her mid-sentence. "You're kidding, right?"

Belle shakes her head, but decides to tackle the subject from a different angle. "What do you know about your lineage?"

Emma scoffs again, this time rolling her eyes. "No, really, you've got to be kidding."

"I can assure you, this is no joke to me."

There's something in her voice, a hardness and a seriousness (and perhaps a dash of magic) that makes Emma suddenly very sure that the Magistra is telling the truth. "I'm — I'm an orphan. I know nothing of my parents, or of any part of my lineage. I was left on the steps of a university outside of the Gale when I was a few days old, raised by the Elders there for a while until I took to the streets."

Even after making Emma spill that, Belle says nothing for a moment, though her eyes search Emma's face for… something. Emma isn't sure what, and is even less sure whether she finds it or not.

"And they were the ones who helped you hone your abilities?"

Emma shakes her head again. "I'd left the university by the time my abilities started showing themselves, and it wasn't until David — until the Prince helped me find an apprenticeship with the palace healer that I started to focus on medicine."

"And you've never attempted any art other than the one that showed itself then? Terren, or dryad?"

The question catches Emma off guard. From everything she's heard about the Elders, and about the Magistra in particular, they are supposed to be able to sense these things about a person without having to ask.

"Well, actually, I've — I've never really been sure. Plants, sure, and I've never much tried with the wind or whatever, but I once saved David by using a large boulder to protect us, and I've calmed some waters, but I've mostly just harnessed my own energy for healing purposes."

"Plants, earth, water," Belle mumbles, turning her chair around to face the bookshelf once again, this time finding one of the more used volumes, with a cracked spine and unattached pages in every direction. She places it on top of the other on her desk, but does not open it. "Plants, earth, water… energy." With the last word, she meets Emma's eyes once more, her whole face seeming to light up. "Regina, I'm assuming you've come to the same conclusion I have?" she asks, not even looking over at Regina.

But Emma does, and the wide smile spread across her face just makes Emma more curious.

In the silence, Mary Margaret gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Of course," she breathes.

“What?” Emma says, at the end of her patience. “What conclusion have all of you come to that I somehow still can’t see?”

“See,” Mary Margaret says, completely ignoring Emma’s question. “Emma didn’t have… formal education, really, so she was never fully introduced to all of the factions, and probably never really heard about all of it, so it makes sense that she never—”

“I am right here,” Emma practically yells, stopping Mary Margaret’s words in their tracks. “Now, what the hell are you talking about?”

“A Vis,” Belle says. “Emma, I think you have the Gift. I think you’re a Vis.”

A Vis. She’s — she’s heard of them, sure, maybe read about them once or twice, but…

A Vis. The rarest of all magic-wielders, with the ability to create their own energy instead of just using those around them.

“As rare as Vis are, it’s pretty common for some of those with the Gift to simply go through their lives thinking they are just a simple fae.”

Emma has so many questions. How, mostly. How has she gone her whole life without knowing this? 30 years, almost half of that time as a fae.

As a Vis.

She doesn't have enough time to process this. When Regina said they had to come to the Athenaeum, the last thing she expected was something like this. She assumed it was to find a way to save Killian.

Killian.

"What does this have to do with Killian?" she asks, the first words spoken for almost a minute.

Both Belle and Regina turn to her, wide-eyed, not understanding the question.

Mary Margaret does. "Yeah, you said he had something to do with this, right?"

"Oh," Belle says, closing the book in front of her again. "No, that's not related to the Vis thing. If you're… well, if you're the Savior that the prophecy foretold, then there's reason to believe he's your True Love."

"You can't be serious."

"Athenaeid do not joke about prophecies, Emma," Regina scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"But true love? Is that — you can't mean —"

Mary Margaret cuts in, stopping her sputtering. "Does that mean we can save him?"

Belle opens one of the books in front of her again, silent for a few moments before shaking her head. "I really can't say for sure. True Love is a fickle thing, and Dreamshade even more so."

"And True Love is the most powerful magic there is," Regina adds, a brightness in her eyes that Emma has never seen before.

(She's not too fond of it, either.)

"What the hell does this even mean? That I can—what—true love's kiss the poison away?"

Belle and Regina share a silent glance. Belle wets her lips. Regina raises her eyebrows.

"Well," the Magistra mumbles. "Yes, there's a chance of that."

A loud, gasping laugh escapes her chest, one she just couldn't keep down. "This is crazy. Absolutely insane."

"There's a chance it's much more complicated than that, too, though," Belle says quickly, trying to save Emma from spiraling too far. "In fact, it's much more likely to be more complicated. Something more along the lines of your being the only person who can save him."

It works. This is much easier for her to wrap her mind around, unlike the rest of the information Belle and Regina have sprung on her in just the last half-hour. This, at least, makes sense. More sense than her being one of the most powerful types of fae, or the fact that there's a prophecy. This, at least, she can deal with.

"So now, she needs to be trained, right?" Regina asks, and Emma feels her heart beat in her throat.

How long could that take?, she doesn't have the ability to ask. There's a time crunch, she has to save Killian, she can't—

"Well, if she wants to save this man from Dreamshade, she certainly doesn't have time to stick around here long enough to master anything," Belle says, once again saving Emma from the spiral she was threatening to get lost in. "Honestly, you should get back to the rest of your group and make way towards Neverland as soon as possible, in my opinion."

"What?" Emma blurts out, even though she agrees with everything the Magistra just said. "You're just going to drop this information on me and… send me away?"

Belle shakes her head. "Of course not," she says cheerily. "I have to come with you."

Killian’s heart is in his throat as David knocks on the door to the cabin. He thought he was going to be okay, back here where Smee was killed and he was kidnapped, but he’s thinking the worst: that no one will open the door. That all of his friends, practically everyone he has left, are gone, taken by the same for that he barely escaped from. For what feels like forever (but in reality can’t be more than a few seconds) no one answers the door.

And then there’s a thud on the inside, followed by the muffled “Bloody hell” that can only belong to Will Scarlett. Killian and David exchange a smile, an almost-literal weight lifted from Killian's shoulders, and the door opens.

At first, Will can’t believe his eyes, which are practically bugging out of his head (Killian’s pretty sure it’s the longest he’s ever seen Will not speak). He doesn't blame him, though, because he can only imagine the conclusions they drew about Killian when they returned that day to find him missing, with Phillip dead on the floor of the kitchen.

It's the first he's thought of this, really, since he has been spending so much time trying not to hype himself up with the thought of them surviving an attack from Pan and Baelfire, but now that he knows they did, he wonders. What did they think when they returned back that day? They all knew his history, knew that he spent the first years as a soldier working for Gold. Did they think him a traitor to his newest allegiance, think that he returned to the Nephilysis army that betrayed him all those years before?

He hopes not. The only thing he has ever wanted to be is a man of honor, and he hopes that the men he has spent the better part of the last ten years with understand that.

Killian is pulled from the worst-case scenario in his mind when, instead of saying anything, Will practically jumps through the door and wraps his arms around David, who, after a moment, hugs him back.

Killian smiles. Even if they believed the worst of him in the weeks he's been away, returning at the Prince's side is a sure sign his allegiance has not shifted.

"Holy shit," Will whispers, shifting his hug from David to Killian, then he says it again. “I saw someone coming up towards the cabin on the radar but I never expected—”

From behind him, Robin emerges from the kitchen, dish towel slung over his shoulder. "Will, who was at the—" And then he meets Killian's eyes over Will's shoulder, then David's. "Holy shit."

"That seems to be everyone's response here," David says, rushing through the doorway to embrace his oldest friend.

"Why didn't you say you were coming? You could have contacted one of us?"

"Honestly, mate," Killian says, taking his turn in giving Robin a hug. "We weren't sure if any of you would even be here, since I was kidnapped by Baelfire from here. If it was still safe, or if any of you were still alive."

"Who else is here?" David asks, closing the front door as he finds a way to ask the question that Killian was too afraid to: was anyone else killed when they came for me?

"Graham was out back somewhere, but I imagine he should be in any—"

Robin's words are cut off by the man in question coming through the back door and calling out: "Is someone here? I got a notification that someone drove through the sensor in the driveway and I—" He comes around the corner, holding his phone out in front of him, but when he sees Killian and David standing inside the door, his words stop. For a moment, the entire cabin is shrouded in silence, waiting for someone to break it.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, and David wraps his arm around his shoulder.

“I think we should all sit down,” David breathes. “This might take a while.”

“So, what, we just have to find this Merlin guy?” Will asks, his mouth still full from the last bite of his sandwich.

“Christ, Scarlett, don’t you listen?” Robin scoffs. “Finding Merlin is the first step.”

“And the easiest,” David mumbles.

Killian leans forward on his elbows, momentarily forgetting about the worst of his injuries, though he is painfully reminded almost immediately. “Once we find Merlin, hoping he still has my brother’s ship hidden away somewhere, then we have to fly to Neverland.”

“And what if — pardon me for asking, but what if he doesn’t have your brother’s ship?” Graham asks, always the most level-headed of them all.

All eyes turn to Killian, who turns his gaze down to the table.

But David speaks up with an answer: “Then we just have to find another way to get to Neverland.”

The room is silent for a minute, until:

“I thought you said this ship is the only way to get to Neverland?” Will asks, once again missing the feeling in the rest of the room.

Killian nods. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Another beat passes, all attention on Will, waiting for him to understand what Killian is trying to say.

“Oh.” He scrunches his face, a soft embarrassed red spreading across his already-red face. “So what’s our plan then?”

Killian turns to David, who gestures for him to take over. “Well, our only hope is Merlin, and I haven't been able to get a hold of him. There's rumor he's somewhere in the Northern Mountains, hopefully still with The Jewel of the Realm, and I have a pretty good idea as to where, so I suppose that's our next destination."

The room falls silent again, each of the men around the table trying to decide just how to feel about all of this — Killian’s torture, the need to travel to new lands, to fly. But David doesn’t let them ruminate for long.

"Pack your things, fellas. We probably have a few days still, but we leave as soon as the ladies meet us here."

TAGS: @shireness-says @cssns @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @facesiousbutton82 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @tiguanasummertree @angellifedeath @pepperpottss @mariakov81 @scientificapricot @kday426 @xarandomdreamx @ohmightydevviepuu @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @carpedzem @superchocovian @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @captain-emmajones @killian-whump @officerrogers – want to be added or removed? let me know!

#my writing #captain swan #cs fics #cs ff #cssns #cssns 2020 #wordsbymeganmichael #slow burn #world building #fantasy #dystopia #kind of?#original world au

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zankivich · 4 years

Text

Corona Diares pt 3: An Arrangement Sequel

Prompt: Maybe for the Corona diaries we could discuss Shawn and Y/n having the baby talk and how they both have different views on it, like Y/n last concern is having baby with the epidemic happening but Shawn just can’t help be day dream about it so they’re just both conflicted.

WARNINGS: Smut, lots of smut, talks of abortions

*y/n’s point’ of view*

Look, you sympathized with the parents and the zoom meetings and trying to remember fourth grade math. Truly! Familyhood in the middle of a pandemic was rough. At least it seemed rough on instagram. However, y/n and Shawn had their own trials and tribulations okay? Like really important, complex shit. Honestly.

“Babe I can’t get good leverage, the countertop’s too high.” He groaned against your shoulder.

You whined softly licking a--truly perfectly made--chocolate meringue off his shoulder.

“Mmm. Leverage feels just fine to me papi.”

His hips stuttered against yours and your legs tightened wonderfully.

“God I love it when you call me that.”

“Yea and I like eating my desserts off your body. So maybe keep some motion in that ocean and take me across the finish line.” You giggled.

“I love you so fucking much. C’mere.”

Quarintine sex is a lot of hard work y’all. It’s also a world of possibilities. Fun...inventive...delightful possibilities. You loved being a married woman in her thirties. No kids. No major responsibilities besides the health and wellbeing of each other. And beyond the world falling apart and the crippling weight of depression, ya girl had to get serotonin in whatever way possible. Enter Shawn’s dick.

Sex in the bedroom was no longer as enticing as sex...everywhere else. The beauty of being grown ass adults with no children, in a big ole house all by yourselves was there you could be creative. And Shawn and you loved to get creative.

“What if you rode me in the home theater babe? I’ve always secretely wanted to have sex at the movies.”

You had just finished getting handsy in the shower and you were trying to dry his slobber off your neck while this man was already trying to get you in another compromising position. Men.

You rolled your eyes at him. “If you think I’m doing all that thigh work just so you can watch Harry Potter, you’ve got another thing coming, sir.”

“Ew! I would never watch a movie with children in it while we’re having sex. What the hell do I look like?”

“The nerd that you are.” You snorted.

“Funny. Very funny.”

Shawn ran a towel through his curls leaving you to stand in front of the mirror watching him instead. It’d been weeks since his last hair cut and his curls were getting long. He usually kept it short for you, because he knew you preferred in that way. But in hindsight there was something quite enticing about the way those curls looked flopped against his head. He looked so damn soft.

He looked up at you and smiled gently before turning to wrap his arms around your waist. His lips trailed your skin still fresh from the shower. You could smell the mint body wash you used, and the warmth of his shampoo. His lips were warm against your cool skin. You melted against him with ease, didn’t even question it. He’d always been your weakness.

“I just thought it could be fun. Different.” He hummed against your shoulder. “Truth is, making love to you is always going to be amazing. So, we can do it wherever you’re comfortable.”

“You mean that?” You mumbled fingers dancing into his curls.

“Of course.”

“The first part though? Even when I’m old and my ass is saggy and so are my arms and my boobs and everything else?”

He rolled his eyes. “As if you even have to ask me that. I’m in love with your soul baby. Everything else will only get better with time.”

Those cheesy lines of his were so ridiculous. And yet here you were being swept up by them constantly. Ew.

“Yea, okay big guy...So, the home theater huh?”

His eyes widened and he nodded quickly like a dog wagging his tail, curls flopping against you.

“And you can pick next. Anywhere you wanna go, anything you wanna do. I only aim to please. And we both know I do.”

“You are so cocky and so obnoxious, it’s astounding.”

He grinned down at you without care.

“Exactly. It’s basically why you married me, my sweet.”

Well. he had you there.

***

“Fuuuuuuck.” He whined.

You giggled leaning back into your glutes to push further down his length. His hands were all over you. Desperate and needy. Who would have thought shawn would be right? You were liking this theatre more by the minute.

“Feel good?” You hummed leaning back onto his knees.

“You know it does. T--Take this off. Need to see you.”

His fingers reached for the straps of your bra, hips still rutting beneath you. You smiled down at him reaching behind your back to undo the snaps. The second he touches you, the second his palms are on your body? Caressing. Touching. Gripping. It’s phenomenal. Leaves you gasping for breath so hard you think you might pass out. The fucking home theatre.

“‘M gonna cum.” you whimpered clawing at his shoulder.

“Yea? Cum for me then. Be a good girl and fucking cum.”

He bucked his hips again sending you sprawled out over his shoulder. And then it was a tight grip on your waist drilling into you for all that you were worth it. It didn’t matter how much you screamed, how much you sobbed, even if you begged him to stop. Shawn was after complete and total destruction. And he always got what he wanted.

“Fuck you are so beautiful when you cum.” He sighed hunting down your lips with his own. “I love you.”

“Mmm I love you. Hold me.” You demanded, legs still very much quivering.

“I can do that.”

And so you sit for a while, all the fire and brimstone of dominance gone, and replaced with comfort. You loved the way he held you. The way his fingers drew lines on your back, and his neck still gave way to the feel of his heart beat. Being intimate with Shawn was one of your favorite pastimes, and you swore it wasn’t just the sex. It was so much about him and who he was and how he made you feel. You were his because of it.

“I know what I want mine to be.”

“Hmm?”

You licked your dry lips and leaned up still feeling the stretch in your thighs. The way his fingers gripped your ass was a dream.

“I want it on the roof in the sunlight. On the day beds. Just like Rome.”

He chuckled and moved his hands along your back again.

“Rome, aye? Shit. I haven’t thought about Rome in years. You used to scare the shit out of me, you know that?”

You snorted. “I should still scare the shit out of you if you know better.”

“Oh you do, just for different reasons. I was so scared of saying the wrong thing. So scared of losing you before I even got you. I--I wanted it all to be perfect. I was so in love with you already and I didn’t even know it.” He chuckled. “Hey we’ve had a pretty good go at it so far, haven’t we?”

“I’d say so. I’ve never been happier in my life, so I think we’re good right here ya know?” You said, and reached for his curls to tug them back against his head. “I’ve been in love with you so long I can’t remember feeling anything else.”

He smiled so big it made your heart sore. So you kissed him and squeezed your fingers into the firm muscle of his shoulders. And he held you against his chest in the middle of the home theatre with nothing but the sounds of your breathing against one another. Life is perfect in that one little moment where the outside world couldn’t find you, couldn’t take what the two of you had if it fucking tried.

***

“You’d make such a beautiful mother one day.” He hummed and rolled one of your curls around his fingers.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I’m gonna be honest I always thought the pregnant fetish thing was weird, but perhaps I could be persuaded.”

“Ew! Shawn, you’re such a creep!” You grunted shoving at his arms

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” He whined. “I swear. I just...you’d be beautiful, ya know? I can’t think of another joy stronger in this world than to make a baby with you.”

You bit your lip at that, eyes flickering to and away from his face.

“Shawn...we talked about this.”

“Yea, when we first got married. And if I remember correctly that ‘talk’ was you saying you weren’t ready to talk about it.”

“Yea, well I’m still not ready.” You huffed. “The fucking world is ending and you wanna try and bring another person into the middle of a shitstorm?”

“Hey, look at me? I’m not pressuring you. I’m not telling you I wanna have a baby today. I’m simply saying that I’ve been thinking about it, and I’d like us to discuss it. I--I want a family with you, y/n. When we got married, we both said kids weren’t off the table. I just wanna talk about it.”

“Okay just...not right now okay? Can’t we just enjoy the day together?”

“Of course.”

He kissed your head and settled firmly against you on the day beds. It was nice, but you knew the conversation was far from over.

***

Shawn and you liked to take the day to yourselves. It was a good way to manage time and not get sick of each other so much. Shawn would spend the day in his studio, or going for a run while you tried to master the art of breadmaking, or worked on securing more donations for front line workers and impacted community members. Then for dinner you’d meet again, almost like a date. It kind of felt exciting. Sometimes you dressed up and ordered something special. If not he’d cook something or you would. Dinner was still a special time for the two of you, a time to reconnect and come together.

Dinner tonight is this amazing italian place who did bolognese better than you had the time or precision to pull off. Shawn grabs a bottle of wine from the cellar. There’s garlic bread. It’s a wonderful fucking time. Until it isn’t.

“Hey, I was thinking after dinner we could go sit in the backyard? I’ll build us a fire. We can get drunk and maybe break into that stash of ours.”

You placed the salad on the dinner table while Shawn moved the food to plates.

“Hmmm. Sure, that sounds fun to me. I haven’t been high in days. This pandemic keeps going, I’ll end up on some Seth Rogen shit.”

“Good...and uh maybe before we get too fucked up we could . . . return to that conversation from earlier this week?”

You paused at the kitchen table, tension appearing thick and heavy in your shoulders. It was too soon. You weren’t ready yet. And the thought of his fucking doe eyes by campfire light was making you more anxious than ever.

“Conversation meaning?”

You went to grab napkins only for him to stop you at the kitchen counter. His eyebrows were raised in irritation but his hands couldn’t be softer on your hips. That was your guy, always giving everything to you even when you couldn’t be more stubborn.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. Please? Just talk to me?”

And you were his girl because despite every nerve ending in your being that yearned to be in control, to have all the answers a hundred percent of the time, you could still always fall right into him. Give and take had never looked so good.

“Okay. After dinner. But I want to open the bottle of whiskey from the Obamas. Michelle would want that for me.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and kissed your forehead.

“Of course she would. Let’s eat.”

The backyard is a near endless field. Shawn had promised you apple trees and peach trees and mint and carrots and arugula. And you got it, though it would be a while before you would see the fruits of your labor, pun intended. There was room for growth is perhaps the point. So, when you sat there on a beautiful summer night, right around the campfire with two glasses of whiskey and a blunt, it felt far from suffocating. Shawn had a way of making you feel calm in the craziest of times. It’s what you loved most about him, what had drawn you to him all those years ago. He was always the light, the cool to balance out your heat. Tonight is no different.

“Y/n, I want a baby.”

Welp, so much for that.

“Well shit, no lube on the entrance huh? You’re just going straight for it.” You sighed between gulps of whiskey.

He only smiled the smile of a man who had grown used to your relentless beating around the bush. It was so annoying to be endlessly loved and intimately known by him. Ugh.

“It’s your body. And I respect that so much. That’s why I want us to talk about it. We always said after the label was stable, after the house was put together, after we lived for a little while. And I just keep watching all these milestones pass us by ya know? The awards and the honors and everything else I...I don’t want to spend my whole life accumulating stuff for no one to share it with.” He explained.

You peered down into your glass and reached to pour another shot.

“You’ve got me.”

“I do. And that’s the greatest privilege I’ve ever known, but I think you know that’s not quite what I meant, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and slid down in your seat until your head peered up into the night and the blanket had fallen around your waist.

“Yea, I know. Look I just...I can’t help but feel like Mother Nature hereself is telling us all to calm the fuck down right now, and I don’t know that bringing a baby into the world doesn’t shit all over that.”

He nodded. “I know that things are kind of crazy right now. I guess that’s why I’ve been thinking about it. I--I want something good to come out of all this. We’re finally forced to slow the hell down, and I guess it just sort of feels like maybe Mother Nature wants us to be doing something with it.”

“And you think she wants you to cum inside of me, is that it?”

He’d been holding the blunt hostage for long enough, and so you reached for his fingers so he could hold the blunt to your lips. His expression was one of amusement.

“I already do that sweetheart. You’ve got a bit of a breeding kink.”

“Excuse me?!” You gasped sending a coughing fit through your system.

Shawn clapped you against your back to make sure you were okay and laughed like any of this was funny.

“Hey, I don’t judge. I told you I aim to please, only. Look this is beside the point. It’s not about the sex. If it was about the sex, we’d just keep having more sex. This is about a serious conversation about our life together. We’ve been married three years now, and I think we’re ready to move to the next step. In fact I don’t think there’s ever been a better time to plan out the next phase of things.”

Your eyes stayed on your drink. Stayed on the blanket or the fire. Anything to not have to look your husband in the eye.

“But I...I get pregnant and I lose everything that I am Shawn.”

He frowned at you, fingers reaching to caress your chin.

“How could you say that to me? You think I’m the kind of guy who wants you barefoot and pregnant? Sweetheart you run one of the largest labels in the industry. I--I would never take that away from you.”

“But the--the touring? The night long studio sessions? The negotiation meetings that last hours. How can I do any of that and be a mom? I--I’ll lose who I am, everything I worked so hard to become.” You sniffled. “I’m not ready to give it all up yet.”

“Honey you don’t have too! I’m not saying it’s gonna be peachy fucking keen for either of us. How am I supposed to tour, write records, fly across the world? It’s gonna be hard to figure it out, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, right? I--I mean...you want to start a family with me, right?”

His voice got so low and his eyes downcast. You knew him better than anyone, better than you sometimes knew yourself. There was a pain in his face. A betrayal you’d only seen once before when you thought leaving might make life easier for the two of you. Shockingly enough it still guts you all the same. And so the tears come strong and your fingers tremble on the glass because there’s no one, absolutely no one, you'd want to hurt less than him.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” you whispered.

He reached for your face now and made work with his thumb to rid your face of tears.

“Yea? Tell me then. What is it that I’m thinking?”

You blinked up at him and swallowed. “Shawn I...It’s not that I don’t want kids. It’s just that something happened to me a long time ago and I guess--I guess I’m just not quite over it yet.”

He nodded. “Okay. And what’s that? You can tell me anything sweetheart, I just wanna understand.”

You broke gently from the hold of his hands and reached for the bottle of whiskey. Only this time it was his glass you refilled.

“You’re gonna want that.” You sighed. “Look the industry was much different when I was coming up than it is now. There were absolutely no safeguards to protect women like me. And I--I didn’t have a fancy degree. I wasn’t white. I wasn’t a man. I had to crawl my way up the ladder until my fucking fingers bled, alright?”

“Of course. I know how hard you worked.” He mumbled in agreement.

“Yea well, not quite. I was twenty years old. I left home to tour with Paramore. It was my first gig doing more than the merch table. I was assistant to the production manager. It was my shot. The tour was for over ninety dates. It would have cemented my place you know? The opportunities were endless if I did a good job. Plus during the day the band was bored so everyone would just hang out, play music. People started to notice that I knew what I was talking about.”

“I was a dumbass kid. I was just as driven as I am now but I didn’t really take things seriously. I drank. I partied. Did all sorts of dumb shit. And uh...I made a really fucking stupid mistake.” You sniffled.

You reached for your drink only to finish it and reach for Shawn’s. His hand stayed warm and soothing on your back as the tears worked their way down your face. He was calm and quiet and attentive. It only left more room for you to be honest and to also revel in your pain a little bit.

“It’s okay. I’m right here.” He whispered.

You shook your head and tried to control your emotions, but it just wasn’t in the cards.

“I slept with some guy. H--He worked in audio. It wasn’t serious, but I didn’t want anything serious. I wanted to be free, whatever the fuck that means. After a few months I notice my period’s late. We were between legs so I was at home.”

You had to pause to let the tears run down so that they didn’t choke you as much.

“Oh y/n. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

But you’ve dredged it up now. You’ve reached deep into the part of yourself that was made up of past selves and you shook her free. There was nothing left to do but see it all through.

“I got pregnant and I thought my life was over. You think a black woman in the music industry is a tough cut, a black pregnant woman is like a fucking unicorn. I--I had just made it. My boss was promising my pick of future tours. I was gonna learn from the greats. I was gonna...I was gonna be the business woman I always wanted to be.” You sobbed. “I couldn’t lose it Shawn. It was everything I ever wanted.”

“I understand.” He nodded, eyes wet and voice uneven. “I hear every word you’re saying. And I’m so sorry. I--I didn’t realize. Come here, please?”

He held you for a while. Your face in his neck and his fingers rubbing into the skin of your back. He was trying to root you, to bring you back down from the clouds where you sometimes couldn’t help but go. It was a place you hadn’t been in so long, but here you were facing a part of yourself you’d done everything to forget.

“Ti went with me to a clinic.” You whispered hoarsely in his ear. “She’s the only other person I’ve ever told. Not even the father. I’m sorry.”

His arms tightened around you. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. Never, do you hear me? I’m so sorry you went through that. And I’m sorry you were in a position that made you choose. I’m just sorry. I love you so much, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

His shoulder is as great a place as any to wipe tears and to find solace at the same time. No one had ever held you like Shawn. There’s a warmth there that couldn’t be found in the fire or the weed or the whiskey. He was special. The love of your life for lack of a better word.

“I--I’m sorry. I should have told you when we got married.”

“No. I’m only happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me now. That’s all that matters to me. Look let’s not talk about this anymore tonight. We can come back to it. Let’s get you to be instead huh?”

You nodded softly. “Yea. Please.”

“Course. Let me put the fire out. Just sit here, finish your drink. I’ll take care of everything.”

The last thing you remember was him pulling you into his arms The smell of his leftover aftershave against your nostrils. The feel of his grip on your arms as he held you through the night. Even in tragedy the only thing that registered was him.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

She’s peaceful when she sleeps. It’s perhaps the only time that there aren’t a million expressions and thoughts on her face. So with the sun streaming in, bright yellow shimmers of gold across melanin cheekbones, he just watches her as long as he can. Because it’s truly a moment of comfort for him, when all he has to focus on is how beautiful she is. They’re the moments he lives for, waking up before her.

When she wakes up and stretches like a cat he chuckles a little bit. That’s his baby without a doubt. And he loved no one the way that he loved her. Not even himself.

“Good morning.” He smiled softly reaching for her cheek. “Missed you.”

She snorted. “While I was sleeping?”

“Yep. It’s been what...like seven whole hours since I saw you? It’s been awful, babe.”

“I can see that . . . Look I just wanted to apologize for last night. I feel like I really fucked things up.”

He shook his head. “Hey, no, no you didn’t alright? Look, there is nothing that means more in the world than us being honest with each other. I am so happy you told me, and I’m just sorry that this brings those kinds of memories up for you. It’s the last thing I want okay? Promise me you believe that.”

“I do, I do.” She whispered. “Look, I would love to have kids. I would love to have someone to leave everything we’ve been working towards for the past five years. But, I’mafraid. I’m afraid of the anxiety and the fear of the world right now, and I’m afraid that maybe I’d be a really shit mom. I don’t know, it’s just a lot.”

“Yea...You’re right. It’s scary. I can’t deny that. Look I don’t want to try and convince you that your fears are silly, because I have the same fears. I just want us to keep talking. I just want us to be honest with each other. And yea, eventually I’d like us to get to the spot where we felt comfortable giving the baby thing a shot.” He explained. “It doesn’t have to be today. Just never stop talking to me okay?”

“You sure? We both know my ass can talk.”

“Sweetheart, I’m counting on it.”

***

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ericsonclan · 4 years

Text

Love is For the Birds

Summary: Clementine and Aspen go on a bird-watching date.

Notes: Did an OC swap with @king-of-clubs98 that was a ton of fun! :D

Read on A03:

Aspen woke up slowly, the sunlight trickling through his window gradually pulling him from his slumber. With a long yawn, he stretched out, feeling his joints protest slightly. Even after a full night’s rest they were still a bit sore. At least he wouldn’t be walking around that much today. All he had was meal prep with Omar, helping Ruby harvest some of the vegetables from the garden, and-

Shit. Aspen realized, his eyes widening. Clem and I are going outside the gates today! Is she already waiting for me? Hurriedly he rose from his bed, pulling on his worn-out boots and bending to get through the doorway. If only his whole room could have been built to his size. It wasn’t like Ericson housed a lot of 7’5” kids before the apocalypse. At least he had the comfort of a properly sized bed though. He had to remember to count his blessings.

As he hurried along the walkway toward the main gate, Aspen spotted Louis walking along. The dreadlocked boy saw him as well, turning to him with a smile. “Hey, Aspen. What’s the hurry?”

“Oh, uh, I… Clem,” Aspen managed.

Louis’ face brightened. “That’s right, you guys have that date today! Aasim and I will be heading out on hunting duty pretty soon too. If we see you, we’ll be sure to keep our distance,” he gave a playful wink that almost made Aspen die of embarrassment right there and then. “Hey, are you free tonight to work on our song again? I think I’ve got the melody down pat this time, so no more awkward pauses!” Louis pulled proudly on the collar of his coat.

“That sounds nice. I’ll probably have time. Right after dinner?”

“I’ll jot your name down in my planner,” Louis quipped, pretending to scribble upon his hand. “See you later then – have fun!”

“Thanks!” With an awkward wave, Aspen was back on his way. The front yard wasn’t very busy at this time of day. He spotted Violet sitting up on the wall as she usually did. They shared a noncommittal nod as he passed. Aspen couldn’t believe Violet had still found a way to climb up to her old spot. The thought of climbing up there was scary enough before; it seemed it would only be scarier now with her limited eyesight. To each their own though.

Rosewood was pushing A.J. on the tire swing, something the youngster seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. “Higher, higher!” he called, kicking his feet to help boost himself further into the air. Rosewood caught Aspen’s eye, offering a friendly wave before returning to their task. Aspen was glad to see them smiling again. It’d be a hard couple months for them with everything that happened with the Delta…

“Faster, Willy!” His sister’s laugh broke out behind him, causing Aspen to turn around to see what was going on. Cedar was flying across the yard in her new wheelchair, being pushed by Willy as he sprinted behind. Their hair blew back in the wind as they made a sharp turn, barreling toward Aspen. “Aspen!” Cedar exclaimed, her smile wide as the wheelchair screeched to a halt in front of him. “Look what Willy just added: a seatbelt! That way even if we slip while racing I’ll still be safe and secure,” She looked up into her brother’s eyes for confirmation, her own green ones bright with excitement.

Aspen was still worried by the whole “racing” part of things, but he could tell how happy it made Cedar. Rather than comment on the safety of it all, he merely smiled and nodded. “It looks cool,”

“I was working all night to add improvements!” Willy jumped in, his gap teeth prominent as he beamed proudly at his work. “The whole wheelchair is stronger now, so it can take a hit, and check it out…” He pulled a lever on the back of the chair and a series of pointed stakes shot upward along both sides of the wheelchair. “Chair spikes! Nobody’s gonna be able to get to Cedar in this!”

“Those are cool, Willy, but maybe keep them down while you two are racing around,” Aspen noted.

“Oh, right!” Willy pulled the lever again and the spikes fell. “They’re only gonna be used for emergencies, promise!”

Hopefully we won’t have any of those for a while. “Well, you guys have fun. I’ve gotta find Clem,”

Cedar nodded towards the admin building. “We saw her about five minutes ago talking over something with Aasim. She’s probably still up there,”

“Thanks. I’ll see you two later,” As Aspen headed towards the admin building, he wondered what Clementine had been meeting with Aasim about. Probably a strategy meeting given that Aasim was the de facto leader of Ericson now. Approaching the steps, Aspen was pleasantly surprised to find Clementine starting to make her way down them herself.

A smile broke out on her face when she saw him. “Aspen! Sorry, have you been waiting long?”

Aspen shook his head. “Nah, I just got out here,” His eyes latched onto the book in Clementine’s hands. “What’s that?”

Clementine grinned, slipping the book behind her back. “Well, I checked with Aasim since he has a running inventory on everything at Ericson to see if he knew if the library had any books on bird watching and…” She lifted the book up proudly. “He gave me an encyclopedia on all the birds in West Virginia! We’re about to be the best bird-watching duo ever!”

“Holy shit,” Aspen breathed, reaching out to take the book. “I can’t believe I never thought to ask about that,”

“It was actually Omar’s idea at first. I was telling him what we were planning for our date and he said the library might’ve had something on birds that could help us,”

The book looked tiny within Aspen’s hands. He was able to flip open the cover, but the pages beneath were another story. They were that thin, silky kind that was usually used on Bibles and such. Aspen was surprised it hadn’t been discovered and rolled up into cigarettes back when there were still kids who smoked around here. A grunt of frustration escaped his lips, causing Clementine to look up with a sympathetic smile.

Getting on her tiptoes, she gently plucked the book from his hands. “How about I narrate the book and you lead the expedition? You’re the one with the expert birdwatching eyes anyway.

“Well, OK then,” Aspen looked towards the front gates. “You ready to head out?”

“Yep, let’s go!”

It was a short walk to the front gates and then they were out in the world. As Aspen closed the gate behind them, he looked down at Clementine’s prosthetic worriedly. It had only been a few short months that she’d had it on. He knew the first couple prosthetics had hurt like hell when she wore them, but Clementine had been adamant: she wanted to get off of her crutches as soon as possible. We’ll make it a short walk, Aspen told himself. There was no way Clementine would let him know if she was in pain and he wasn’t risking her receiving any further injuries for the sake of her pride.

“Caught you,” Clementine gave a rueful smile.

Aspen looked away in shame. “Sorry. I won’t mention it,”

“It feels fine today,”

Aspen studied her eyes, hoping he knew her well enough to be certain of the truthfulness of her words.

“I promise,”

“I trust you,”

The happiness in Clementine’s eyes told him he’d made the right choice. They walked alongside each other, Aspen keeping his eye out for birds as Clementine leafed through the book. Suddenly a giggle escaped her lips. “Man, I really hope we come across a dickcissel. That has to be the funniest name I’ve seen yet,”

“Can I see?” Aspen glanced down at the book, studying the illustration Clementine pointed to as she held the book up towards him. It was a small, sparrow-sized bird with brown markings and a bright yellow chest. “Oh, I’ve seen those before. They tend to hide out in the tall grass. Never knew what they were called though,”

“Well, keep your eyes peeled,” Clementine continued to leaf through the book. “I want to be able to tell A.J. each and every bird we saw when we get back for dinner tonight,”

They continued their walk, not coming across anything too interesting. A few crows crossed overhead and Clementine flipped to the section on crows, choosing the fish crow which seemed to match the birds they’d seen best and reading what she found out loud. “When fish crows find a good source of food, they may cache the surplus for later. These hiding places can be in grass, in clumps of Spanish moss, or in crevices in tree bark,”

“Maybe we should try to follow them and see if they lead us to their secret stash,”

Clementine wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. “If they’re storing fish inside trees, I bet it taste like shit,”

“Just cause they’re called fish crows doesn’t mean they only eat fish,” Aspen rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Here, lemme see that for a second,” He held the book up closer to his face so he could make out the tiny words. “See? It says here that they’re ‘supreme generalists, eating just about anything they can find’,”

“Guess you’ve got a point then. We could use as much food as possible back at the school,”

Aspen fumbled with his fingers. He knew Clementine was thinking of him. She always worried that he wasn’t getting enough and often tried to force her food on him. He wouldn’t take it though. Clem was way too skinny as it was. She needed the food just as much as he did. Fishing in his pocket, Aspen decided to change the subject by focusing on something else. He soon found his bird whistle, one he had made for himself out of some foam he found in the old art room and a piece of one of the medical gloves from the nurse’s office. Placing the instrument against his tongue, he waited a few seconds for it to soak up some of his saliva before positioning it at the tip of his tongue and lightly blowing past his lips. A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed by a series of short trills.

Clementine looked up at him proudly. She was always impressed at how many whistles Aspen had mastered. The first time he’d shown her, things hadn’t gone as smoothly though. Clementine had reached for his hand and Aspen had choked mid-whistle, swallowing the instrument and devolving into a coughing fit. It wasn’t a big deal; it was easy to make another. This time though, Aspen made sure the whistle was firmly lodged at the tip of his tongue before reaching out for his girlfriend’s hand.

Clementine seemed to enjoy the gesture. She leaned against his arm for a moment, humming happily to herself before her eyes suddenly widened. Pressing a finger to her lips, she caught Aspen’s eye. There just a dozen yards from them was a full-grown rabbit. Clementine had come prepared. Pulling the bow from behind her back, she notched an arrow, barely breathing as she steadied her aim. The arrow flew and hit the rabbit dead center. It flopped lifeless to the ground. Clementine hurried over to retrieve it. “Looks like dinner’s on us!”

“I can carry it,” Aspen offered. Clementine handed it to him and he threw it over his left shoulder. He had enough experience toting wild game that he wouldn’t need a hand to steady it. Instead his hand returned to Clementine’s completely enveloping hers as the couple continued to walk along.

They saw several more species of birds throughout their date and thanks to the encyclopedia were able to identify most of them. Boreal chickadees, Smith’s longspur, Kirtland’s warbler… Clem dog-eared each page that contained a bird they had spotted so that they’d be able to share each and every one with the group tonight. Aspen’s whistles, trills and warbles had birds flitting over to nearby branches, tittering back at him.

“So, do the birds think you’re like, flirting with them?” Clementine asked. “That’s why birds make calls, right? To attract mates?”

Aspen shrugged. “Hell if I know. I can make the calls. Doesn’t mean I know what they mean,”

“I suppose I have nothing to be jealous about then,” Clementine teased, dog-earing another one of the pages. “That one looks to be a Western kingbird. The book says they defend their territory with “wing-fluttering, highly vocal” attacks, so let’s try not to piss it off,”

“Birds are pretty chill for the most part,” Aspen replied. “You leave them alone, and they do the same for you,”

“Is that why you like them?”

“Yeah, and, y’know, music,” Aspen looked up towards the sky, studying the horizon. “We should probably be heading back. Don’t want to be out too late,”

“It’s not even near evening,” Clementine protested. “If this is about my leg, I can keep going,”

Aspen smiled down at his girlfriend. She was so cute when she stood her ground like that, hands on her hips, lip set in a pout. Terrifying too under the right circumstances, but in this case she was simply cute. “What if I told you I was the one who needed a break? My joints have been aching since this morning.

That seemed to change Clementine’s mind. She clearly wasn’t fully convinced whether Aspen was faking his claim or not, but she wasn’t going to risk it. “Ok, we’ll head back then,” Still hand in hand, the pair turned to start the journey back to the school.

By the time they returned, there were still a couple hours before nightfall. That didn’t make Aspen regret his decision in the least though. Clementine had started to fade a bit on the way back, her brow furrowing in concentration and her breathing growing heavier. She tried her best to mask it, but Aspen could still hear it. He didn’t say anything though. He knew she’d refuse any help he offered, and it was good enough that she’d agreed to head back. He was glad though when he felt her leaning just a bit more upon his arm, a silent agreement to accept his support in some small way.

The front yard was fairly quiet as they stepped inside the gates. Omar waved to them from the watchtower. “Looks like you guys caught something,”

“Yep,” Clementine smiled proudly. “Another rabbit to add to tonight’s stew along with whatever Lou and Aasim bring back,”

“I’ll be ready to help with dinner prep soon, Omar,” Aspen added. “Just gotta drop a few things off in the room first,”

Omar nodded. “Willy’s on watch next so as soon as he comes out I’ll get to work on preparing the stock. You’ll be on vegetable prep,”

“Sounds good. See you in a few,” Aspen and Clementine walked off together, meandering toward the dorm rooms.

“Clem, Clem!” A.J. ran forward excitedly, practically tackling Clementine with a hug. “You’re back! Did you see anything cool? Did you catch any birds?”

Clementine chuckled, ruffling A.J.’s hair. “The goal wasn’t to catch the birds, goofball, just to watch them. We have a book though that we’ll show everybody after dinner. It’s got pictures of all the birds we spotted,”

A.J.’s eyes leapt to the book in Aspen’s hand. “Is it that one? Lemme see!” He jumped for it, but Aspen quickly lifted it out of his reach.

“Sorry, squirt, you’ll have to wait till after dinner just like everybody else,”

A.J. pouted, an expression that Aspen was pleasantly surprised to see matched Clementine’s own pout quite well. Before either of them could say anything further though, an almost imperceptible groan left Clementine’s mouth.

“Clem? You OK?” A.J. asked, eyes wide.

“We’re getting you inside,” Aspen declared, a hand moving down to circle round her waist.

“I’m fine, you two, just… I should probably sit down for a while,”

“We’ll head to your room first,” Gently, Aspen guided Clementine forward. A.J. circled round to her other side, his own hand coming up alongside Aspen’s to support Clementine. It was clear she had reached her limit. Aspen internally cursed himself for not insisting they turn back sooner. Thankfully it wasn’t too long of a walk before they reached Clementine and A.J.’s room. Ducking to get inside, Aspen made sure Clementine was securely seated on the bed before kneeling down to remove her prosthetic. The buckles were a bit fidgety in his large hands, but he was able to manage them well enough to pull the prosthetic off. He leaned it against Clementine’s dresser where it would be easy to reach.

“Thanks,” Clementine breathed, clearly exhausted. “I think I’m just gonna lay down for a bit, close my eyes. You don’t have to stay, A.J., just let me know once dinner is ready,”

A.J. seemed hesitant to go, but nodded, quickly leaving the room without another word.

Clementine turned back to Aspen who was still kneeling before her. “You can go too,” Her hand reached up to play lightly with his sandy brown hair. “I know you have things to do,”

“I’ll finish them as soon as I can,” Aspen’s eyes searched hers for signs of pain. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’m sure,” Clementine held his gaze for a few seconds before leaning forward. Her lips grazed his in a soft kiss.

Aspen felt his face heat up at the gesture. He wanted to lean in and kiss her again, but Omar was waiting and Clementine was clearly on the verge of falling asleep. Instead he settled for cupping her cheek, her head resting against his hand. “You get some rest, okay? I’ll see you later,”

“Later,” Clementine murmured.

Aspen slowly lowered her head till it rested upon the pillow. He then rose to his feet, heading back toward the door.

“Aspen?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,”

Aspen’s heart fluttered within him. “Love you too,” Bending, he made his way into the hall, heading for the stairs. It really had been a wonderful date.

#fanfic #aspentine #twdg clementine #twdg aspen #fluff #birdwatching

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spartanguard · 5 years

Text

savage garden, 4/?

Summary: Killian Jones was, by far, the worst, weakest, most ineffectual Dark One ever. (According to the Darkness, at least.) And he was fine with that. He was just a slave, a deckhand—what use did he have of dark magic? And even less want. But the Darkness has vowed to firmly get him under its grasp, one of these days. He finds respite in a beautiful secluded garden—and the amazing woman he eventually meets there. The question remains, though: is it—is she—enough to keep him out of the dark completely? One can only hope…

A/N: Here we go again! Thanks to everyone who continues to read and comment—you keep me going! And thanks again to the organizers of @csmarchmadness and to @optomisticgirl for being awesome.

The title again comes from “Violet” by Savage Garden; this song just has a lot of lyrics that fit these two. I also lied about this chapter being longer but the next few will be! Now I’ll shut up and let Emma and Killian get better acquainted...

chapter 4: the same two people looking out to sea

He couldn’t go to the garden again for a several more days as a storm that rolled in that night decided to send a tree branch through his roof, making a mess of his greatroom. It wasn’t the first time that had happened—everything in the cottage had been rebuilt at some point, and the manual labor was just another thing he could focus on that wasn’t the voices in his head encouraging him to just fix it with a wave of his hand.

He was sweeping the detritus from the room when he discovered the branch had also broken through the secret compartment he’d built under the floor. Usually, it was covered by a rug, but that had been trashed, too. As soon as he saw the crevice, he dropped what he was doing to make sure its contents were unharmed.

He extracted the sleek black box from the space and exhaled in relief that it was unharmed.

Nothing can break that, or have you already forgotten?

“I haven’t. Just needed to make sure.”

It’s the one thing you’ve done right.

The box was wrought from cast iron, an inch thick on all sides, and sealed with a blood lock—the only magic he had ever wanted to use. He set the box on the damaged floor in front of him and grabbed a thorny branch laying on the floor with which to prick his finger; his hook was far too dull to do anything that meticulous.

Once a drop of blood welled up, he quickly used it to draw an M on the surface of the box before the wound healed on its own. The box seemed to absorb his blood and the lid released with a click, despite having no obvious lock.

He opened it, and there it still lay, just as gleaming and menacing as on that day all those years ago: his dagger. He hated to call it his, but it was hard to protest when it was his name engraved in steel with the same darkness that had been his companion for the all these years.

He quickly locked it back up and stuck it back in its hole, bunching up the damaged rug over it for concealment until he had the materials to repair it. He wasn’t all that worried about someone taking it—the sole perk to having no living relatives was that the blood lock ensured only he could open it. But he still didn’t want to risk it.

On the day he finally got back to the garden, Emma was seated on one of the benches, head thrown back as she soaked in the sun’s rays. “I wondered when I’d see you again,” she called out, even though he’d entered completely silently.

“I had things to tend to at home, else I would have returned sooner. How did you know I was here?” he asked, curious.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, then scooted over on her bench, inviting him to sit next to her. He hesitated before stepping out of the shade of one of the large trees—especially because once he did, the sunlight on his shimmery skin immediately made her squint, so he stepped back to the darker area.

“Come here,” she said—well, more like commanded, so he did as she told him. But he pulled up his hood and tugged his cloak a bit tighter around him, both to save her eyes and for fear of contact with her setting off the magic again.

“I hate to tell you this,” she started, finally answering his question, “but you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” she explained, still smiling. “At least, not to me. Even traces of dark magic I can sense, even if you weren’t actively using it.”

Bloody hell, did this mean any magic user could find him? Were all his precautions for naught?

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, sensing his panic. “It’s not everyone who can—just me, I think. At least, that’s what the fairies told me.”

“Fairies? Those are real?”

Emma tilted her head. “The Dark One doesn’t know about fairies?”

He shrugged. “This Dark One doesn’t know much about magic, period.”

Much to our disgust.

She pursed her lips in thought. “Can I ask...just how long have you been the Dark One?”

He nervously scratched behind his ear. “I’m not sure on the exact number, but by my estimates...about a hundred and thirty years, give or take.”

Emma whistled. “And you’ve been on your own that whole time?”

He nodded. “How could you tell?”

“You’ve got that look in your eyes—the one you get when you’ve been left alone.”

He scoffed. “I had that long before any magic came into my life,” he blurted, but regretted it. She didn’t want to hear his tale of woe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.

He was stunned. The only other person to ask about his life was Milah, and as they’d just established, that was a very long time ago. That said, he didn’t know if he wanted to; while logically, he knew she wouldn’t, anyone else who had ever taken an interest in him just exploited and hurt him.

“Not today, I’m afraid...but maybe another.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. “That’s fine. Wanna hear about the fairies?”

“Sure.”

He honestly didn’t remember all the details of what she was telling him—the politics and rules of diminutive sprites didn’t hold much relevance for him, he didn’t think—but listening to her talk was entertaining enough. She was dryly funny and slightly sarcastic, but it couldn’t hide her genuine enthusiasm at times.

“You really didn’t know they were real?” she finally asked.

“No; in my time and experience, they were just thought to be legend.”

“Kind of like you, then.”

“I…” he started, but he didn’t really know what to say. Did he explain that he was merely an unwilling vessel for the Darkness? That, regardless of the name on that blade, they were still separate entities? (Unfortunately.) That the only thing he could take credit for was ensuring the Dark One became part of history, well in the past? “I...hope that means that there’s no reputation to precede me,” he finally replied.

“Not much of one,” she answered nonchalantly. “I read about the Dark One in a history book that Blue gave me for homework, but...you don’t seem capable of anything that guy did. Unless you’ve had a crazy change of heart.”

“Uh, well…” Show her what we can do! the Darkness crowed, and his heart rate picked up as the voices called out, most in indignation at their forgotten memory. “Let’s just say that my predecessors had different views on power than I do.”

“You didn’t want it?”

“I don’t, no. But I can keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”

“That sounds noble.”

He snorted again. “I’m not sure about that, but...it’s certainly the least I can do.”

She gave him a thoughtful look but then winced as her stomach grumbled. “Sorry. Guess I need to plant some fruit trees in here.”

“That’d be a lovely addition,” he agreed, his mouth watering at the thought of fresh fruit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself such an indulgence. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He rose to leave but she followed. “Do you want to join me?”

The thought of going out in public—with people around—immediately made him nervous. “I, uh, don’t eat much,” he offered as an excuse; it wasn’t a great one but he hoped she’d buy it.

She tilted her head as she walked toward him. “That’s not all of it, is it?” So much for that; he swallowed and attempted to come up with an explanation, but she continued. “It’s alright. But just so you know, I can spot a lie from a mile away.” She winked at him and he immediately blushed. “Will you at least walk me out?”

“Of course, milady.” He offered her his arm, even through the cloak.

She looked away for a moment, a sad smile on her face; he could tell that her story, whatever it was, was likely as complicated as his own. But then she shook her head a bit and took his arm with a grin, and he escorted her out.

When they parted ways, she told him that she hoped she’d seen him sooner than his last visit. Part of him wasn’t sure that was wise, given that the Darkness was yelling at him to end her right there, but the part of him that was only a man concurred, and looked forward to their next meeting.

You’ll be the death of us, boy.

“One can only hope.”

Killian didn’t visit every day; he worried that might be too intrusive. And there were some days he went and she wasn’t there, leaving him to peruse the space on his own. Something was different on each trip there, typically new flowers in bloom.

“Where do you get them all from?” he had to ask one day as they took a turn about the paths arm-in-arm.

“Uh, well, don’t judge me, but...I’ve stolen a lot of them from pirate ships,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah; it’s the only way to get the really exotic ones, like the orchids over there.”

“Doesn’t stealing from a pirate make you one yourself?” he teased.

She shrugged. “I guess. I’m kind of used to it by now; I live on the lam, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s alright, love; takes one to know one, I suppose.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “What, a thief or a pirate?”

“The latter.”

“You? No way.”

“In another life, aye.”

“But you’re so...sweet.”

He laughed; that was a very nice way of describing him, he decided. “If it’s any explanation, it wasn’t by choice.”

Her voice got quiet. “Will you tell me?”

He couldn’t blame her for being curious; not many men had his years. Well, Nimue lived a while, and Zoso...which you’d know if you cared.

He ignored that and instead focused on Emma. “I’m not sure there’s a ton to tell, and it’s not very happy, but I will.” In as few words as he could manage, he told her about his mother and her passing; his father and how he sold he and his brother into servitude; how his brother finally found freedom, only to die in the service of the King’s Navy before he was able to rescue Killian from the wretched men they were enslaved to; being traded from ship to ship until he eventually landed in Blackbeard’s crew; Milah—brilliant beautiful Milah; and finally, that fateful day that took her from him, too, and brought him here. He made sure to leave out the specifics of the weapon he used, but didn’t want to deny the fact that he’d killed Rumplestiltskin.

“And that’s how I acquired this curse; like most things in my life, it was just a transaction, a passing of the responsibilities. And I...I’ve killed others, though not intentionally. Sometimes the Darkness...it has a mind of its own, and I can’t always keep it in check, which you’ve seen, unfortunately. And that’s been the situation for over a hundred years now. So...that’s it,” he concluded, probably anticlimactically.

He was scared to look at her after divulging all that; he’d known before he delved into his story that it would probably change the way she looked at him, and not for the better, but he didn’t want to keep anything from her. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met and he couldn’t deny the growing part of him that wanted to share everything with her. But that meant no lies and no secrecy.

So he was astonished when he finally faced her and found not anger or disgust, but tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Killian,” she said, voice as watery as her gaze, and pulled him into a hug. “I can’t believe everything you’ve gone through.”

He hesitated to reciprocate the embrace, but he did eventually; it had been so long since he’d felt one, he couldn’t help it, and her warmth made him terribly aware of how devoid of it his life had been. But he couldn’t let it linger for long; he pulled back and asked, “Aren’t you frightened of me?”

“Why would I be?” she wondered, then sniffled.

“I...look at me. You just heard everything. I’m not...I’m not good, Emma.”

“You’ve made mistakes; who hasn’t?” He couldn’t believe how nonchalant she was about this. “But you also had to make do with life dealing you a shitty hand. And the fact that you’re trying so hard to keep the Darkness at bay...I can’t even imagine how difficult that is, but if someone wasn’t ‘good,’ whatever that means, they wouldn’t be able to.” She took a seat at one of the benches, and tugged him down next to her. “I may not have lived as long as you, but I’ve come across lots of people—some who were genuinely good, some who were truly bad, and some who said they were one but turned out to be the other. Usually, they act like they’re good but they’re really just selfish assholes. You, Killian Jones, are the first who thinks they’re not good when they really, truly are.”

He felt a welling of emotion he hadn’t felt in ages, and he had no idea how to describe it. But it wasn’t unlike how he felt the first time Milah protected him from the crew’s constant abuse; he felt...he didn’t want to say loved, but maybe he just felt like a person again.

“I’m not sure I deserve such praise, but I’m too weak to refute it,” he said, hoping she realized how much that meant to him. “Especially from someone as incredible as you.”

Emma gave him half a smile, but looked away. “Well, now it’s my turn for denial, then; I’m not some paragon of virtue, either.”

“I find that hard to believe, love.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Please don’t. Just...let me tell my story now.” She sighed, then began. “Did I mention that I was a princess?”

He was taken aback—though not altogether surprised; despite her clothing, she definitely had a regal appearance and carriage. “No, I don’t think you did, Your Highness.”

“Dammit, I knew you’d do that. I’m gonna stop you right there before you pledge your fealty or something. And emphasis on was; I’m not sure if I still am one.”

“What happened?”

“Maleficent happened.” Before Emma was born, there had been a prophecy; she didn’t go into the details, but apparently, to fulfill her destiny, she had to remain “light.” (“I’m still not sure what that means but I guess this garden is proof I’ve managed it.”) She herself didn’t know the details, but apparently, her parents did something to Maleficent’s child to ensure that Emma stayed on the right path. (“Who does that?” she complained, shivering.) Fast forward twenty-some years—she had an idyllic childhood and adolescence, learning everything about ruling a country from her parents, as well as how to hone her magic by the fairies. There was a less-than-honourable prince in there who broke her heart and turned her off of the idea of romantic love, but despite her parents being the epitome of it (“Actual, certified True Love, confirmed by the gods or something”), they supported her desire to rule alone.

“So life was all good, until a few months ago, when Maleficent finally decided to get her revenge; not sure why it took her 28 years, but I guess the timing is irrelevant.” (My kind of witch, the Darkness cheered. Maybe you could learn something from this story.) Anyways, she storms into the castle during my confirmation—not really that important a thing; just a ceremony signalling that I’d be taking a larger role in governing—and starts ranting and raving about what my parents took from her, which I had no idea about until then. Then she threatened to put a sleeping curse on me, but my stupid parents wouldn’t let her, and told her to curse my mom. But the witch only would agree if she cursed both my parents, who agreed, even though I begged them not to.” She had to pause to wipe a tear from her eyes. “So that’s what she did, and then transformed into a dragon and flew out through the stained glass window. I tried to wake them, but...it didn’t work.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“Oh, lass,” he murmured, then pulled her close to him on instinct. He surprised himself with that, and was even more shocked when she leaned into him.

“And here I am. I fled from the court because I obviously failed at being their daughter, if my love for them isn’t true enough to wake them. So I’ve been on the run ever since, stealing to get by. I have no idea what to try next and my people probably think I’ve abandoned them...this is the only place that I have any peace.”

“I know how that feels,” he said softly. For a while, they just sat, finding respite in the quiet of the garden, save for the gentle gurgle of the fountain. Emma sniffed occasionally, but otherwise didn’t move from where she sat, her head resting on his shoulder. He hadn’t been in this position since Milah, whenever she was particularly missing her son. Just as then, he didn’t know how to offer any words of comfort, but just being there seemed to help—or, at least, he hoped it did.

“Sorry,” she said eventually and sat up. “I bet you weren’t expecting to hear a sob story today.”

“Nonsense. I’m...I’m glad you felt you could share it with me.”

“Same here,” she answered. “God, here I am blubbering when you’re the one with the sadder story.”

“It’s not a contest; like I said, everyone has their burdens.”

“Wish there was a way we could lighten each other’s loads.”

“Aye,” he agreed with a sad smile. “I’m afraid your magical knowledge might be better than mine, though.”

“Maybe, but it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. There wasn’t a whole lot in my education about evil curses. Sorry,” she added when she noticed his slight wince at her choice of words. “But even the fairies don’t know much—they say it’s not their ‘brand of magic’ or whatever. And I’m not sure where else to look.”

Oh, but you do.

“I do,” he realized, agreeing with the Darkness out loud. This might be the first time in his history that being the Dark One was actually useful. He told Emma, “There’s a library at the Dark Castle; it’s protected with magic, but I have to imagine there’s something in there that could be of use.”

“Really?” Her eyes grew wide at the prospect. “Can you take me there?”

“Uh…” The prospect of taking here there seemed like a terrible idea. He’d gladly bring the books to her, but there was a reason he didn’t like spending much time at the castle. “I’d feel safer if you didn’t. It’s...not a pleasant place, and it’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s that I don’t trust anyone else, and you, my dear, will no doubt garner attention on such a journey.”

She crossed her arms and gave him an unamused look. “I’m too pretty to go—that’s it?”

“Not all of it, but...part.”

“What’s the rest?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what effect it’ll have on me,” he confessed. The castle had dark magic in its very mortar; the whispers always grew louder there, the magic humming in his blood even stronger. “Should something go awry, I’d feel better knowing you were far from there...from me.”

Emma pursed her lips. “I don’t like it, but...I get it.” He sighed in relief. “Is there anything I can do in return?”

“Be here when I get back?” He hadn’t expected his voice to sound so small and childlike, but now that she knew what his life had been like, hopefully she’d understand his concern.

“Of course. When do you think that’ll be?”

“It takes a few days to get there, so..give me a week?”

“You mean you don’t just poof there?”

He bit his lip. “I try to use the magic as little as possible. It...it helps,” he explained, hoping she’d be able to fill in the blank.

She nodded in understanding. “Okay then; I’ll be here.”

There wasn’t much else to do, then, but say their goodbyes and for him to head on his way. He’d need to stop at home for a few things, but he had no other reason to delay the journey—save for his growing reluctance to leave Emma’s presence. As had become usual, he escorted her out, but she stopped before they reached the door.

“I guess this is where I wish you good luck,” she said.

“I appreciate that,” he replied, blushing. What a lovesick fool, the Darkness gagged.

She paused for a moment, but then went up on her tiptoes and placed a light kiss on his cheek. Again he felt that spark at the contact he’d felt the first time, and the buzzing it prompted in his veins energized him for the task ahead.

When she fell back on her heels, he could tell she was biting back a giggle, likely at his slack-jawed reaction. “I’ll see you in a week. Take care,” she farewelled, and headed out.

“You too,” he said as he watched her leave, his fingers coming up to the place where her lips had just been.

He let it soak in for one more moment before setting out, with the hopes of the same thing greeting him on return.

thanks for reading, friends! tags: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @killianmesmalls @distant-rose @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @jscoutfinch @nfbagelperson @the-captains-ayebrows @stubble-sandwich @killian-whump @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @wyntereyez @lfh1962 @bmbbcs4evr @therooksshiningknight

#cs ff #killian jones ff #dark killian #deckhand hook #cs march madness #fic: savage garden #my ff

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scullyy · 5 years

Text

Valentine’s Day?

Title: Valentine’s Day?

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 1364

Summary: How does one celebrate Valentine’s Day during the apocalypse? Louis tries to make the gift straight from the heart.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day you lovely people! I thought I’d throw this simple yet fluffy one-shot out there to celebrate the day. Even if you don’t have a valentine, tell your friend you love them, tell your parents, do something nice for yourself! Enjoy :)

If you want I’ll be your valentine mkay just saying slide into my inbox xx

His morning began so nicely, the sun was shining in the sky with not a cloud in sight. There were even some birds chirping in the distance. Louis took in a deep breath, he dreamed of this kind of weather. But of course Violet had to spoil it all.

“Did you realise that today is Valentine's Day? I forgot that was a thing.”

Louis felt the panic grow from his bones, a completely different reaction to Violet. “Excuse me? Today...is Valentine's Day?” Please no, please no, please no-

She took another small bite from her apple, not seeming to care about the holiday. “That’s what Aasim said, you know his calendar is never wrong.”

Louis hit the top of his head, jolting his thoughts awake. “Fuck, he’s probably preparing something awesome for Ruby. That’s it, I need to start looking at that calendar more.”

Violet nodded along. “You’ve always been into the romantic shit, any plans for Clem?” She failed to mention how she busted Clementine frantically picking flowers earlier, seems like both had forgotten about the holiday.

“Well, it’s hard to make plans when you forget the day,” He ran a hand this his bed hair, him and Clem had only been together for a short amount of time, would it be too much to do something? “Should I give her a gift?"

Violet chucked the apple core onto the ground. "What would you even give her? Not like there's a store you could go to and even if by some chance you had chocolates hidden away I'd be beating your ass for not sharing." She couldn’t help but feel jealousy wrap it’s greedy claw around her heart. Minnie never seemed to care this much, then again Violet herself never pressed the issue.

"I am so screwed,” His heart hammered deep from within his chest. Clementine deserved something! Maybe a drawing? Not original enough, AJ seemed to have a drawing for her every night. A performance? Something artsy? “I’ve got it!”

Violet rolled her eyes, she didn’t want to spend her day talking about romance, let alone hearing Louis of all people talk about it. She kept her stare on the bugs that chomped away at what was left of the apple.

The impatient man cleared his throat. “Please Louis, go ahead and tell me,” Louis impersonated his buddy as best as he could, his voice cracking slightly. “You still have Sophie’s craft supplies?”

“Tenn has them, what are you trying to do? He doesn’t have a lot of stuff, the best you could do is a sock bunny.”

“Are you still annoyed at me for that? I told you a hundred times, I’m sorry that I used your sock for my art project. Anyhow,” Louis tugged at his coat in an elegant fashion, he could see Clem's face now. All lit up with a lovely smile, maybe even a dusty pink blush? Man now that's a sight to behold. "Excuse me, dear Violet, I have a...uh...something to make! I’ll figure it out."

Vi saluted him as he ran over to Tenn's table. "Catch you later Lou."

Tenn and AJ were minding their own business when Louis flew himself onto their table, frightening the young boys. "Sorry to interrupt, can I borrow some art stuff Tenn?"

Tenn briefly looked at his box of supplies. "Sure, what for?"

"I need to make a Valentine's Day gift for Clementine," He pulled the box towards him and began to dig through the mess. "Sorta last minute I know."

AJ scratched the side of his head with the blunt pencil in his hand. "What's that?" Louis always seemed to know everything, however the mystery of the Leprechaun was still shrouded in darkness.

"It's a day where people appreciate those they care about, a day to celebrate love." Valentine's Day at the Louis household consisted of overly priced gifts and a pair of diamond earrings that always replicated the one from the year prior. His father was a man of unoriginal taste.

"Oh, love." AJ smiled at the answer. Love sounded so...so...magical, based off what Clementine had told him in the past.

Louis came across a small ball of string and a goldmine of plastic charms. There was one of a daisy, the sun, a bright pink heart and even a frog. "Jeez, who the hell thinks of these designs?" He slid one of the charms onto the weak string, immediately straightening his back as an idea shot through him. “That’s it!”

One by one the charms joined together along the string, he made sure the neon heart was in the centre. After tying the ends of the string together, Louis brandished his creation. “It doesn’t look like much but I once caught Clem eyeing down a broken bracelet she found when we were on patrol not long ago. She seemed to enjoy it.”

“What does it do?” AJ asked. What good could a few pieces of plastic do together? Love is weird.

Louis hid it inside his pocket. “It’s called a bracelet. People would wear them for style and flair.”

“Flair?”

Louis shot AJ down before he could keep going. “We’re gonna be here all day at this rate, do you know where Clem is?”

Tenn pointed at the school. “I heard her telling Ruby something about the piano room, she might still be there.” He also heard something about flowers but he wasn’t sure what that was about.

“Thank you, my dudes, onward we go.” Louis quickly wiped the dirt away from his pants, trying to look as presentable as possible. His steps were broad as he headed into the piano room, Clementine’s voice grew louder as he got closer. He knocked on the door whilst poking his head in, breaking the girl out of her thoughts.

“May I interrupt?”

She quickly hid something behind her back, swaying side to side innocently. “Sure Lou, what brings you here?” Her legs almost gave way beneath her, why was this so nerve-wracking?

Louis kept his steps slow as to draw out the suspense, if he was going to do this he was going to be as dramatic as possible. “Would you believe that today is Valentine’s Day? A day where we tell those we care about just how much we care about them. I’m going to guess that you’re already aware of how much you mean to me, but I’m still going to say it,” He coughed loudly as he pulled the bracelet out. “Oh my darling Clementine, I am very glad to have the privilege of knowing you. If you ever break up with me I may just lose my mind.”

She tried to stifle a laugh as best as she could. “Well then, I promise not to break up with you anyways,” Her eyes travelled down to the bracelet held tightly in his hand. “What’s that?”

Louis opened up his palm to reveal her present, it shined beneath the flecks of sunlight pouring in. “I know it isn’t fancy and it’ll probably break after a week,” He slid the bracelet over her small wrist, it hung off her skin perfectly. “But it’s the thought that counts, right? Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Clementine ran her fingers along the plastic charms, her jaw was hurting from smiling so hard. "I love it, did you make it?"

He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "I did. Tenn let me use his art supplies, AJ even supervised me." The bright, clean colours stood out against the dry dirt on her wrist.

"Well, I actually have something for you too," Clementine revealed the hand hidden behind her back and flashed him a wide variety of flowers. Having Violet catch her in the act was embarrassing, it would certainly be something the girl would bring up again in the future. So much for her stoic reputation.

Louis slowly took the small bouquet, inhaling the sweet smells it gave off. "Thank you, Clementine."

She pulled him into a hug, her hands draped over his shoulders loosely. "Happy Valentine's Day Lou, I'm glad I get to spend it with you."

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdgs4 #clementine twdg #the walking dead game season four #twdg louis #louisentine #clouis #fanfiction #xscullyx

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usuk-hell · 5 years

Text

Happiest Place On Earth (2p1p USUK)

simple, fluffy mint chocolate usuk one-shot requested by the lovely @mapleburger! i hope u enjoy <3 rated T.

A feeling of loneliness often struck Arthur in the busiest of places. Though he would never admit it out loud, he found himself somber at the fact he had few friends. He tried his best to be a charming lad, but no matter how hard, he always had an aura about him that made him come across as unapproachable and cold. He had a handful of close friends back in London, but ever since crossing the pond with the romantic idea of starting over in a new place, their contact had slowly fizzled out over the years. Work was boring and draining, he spent most of his day hunched over a desk editing other people’s shitty writing, and his sex life was… dry. Los Angeles was draining the life out of Arthur it felt like, and he ironically found himself missing the fog thick streets he had abandoned.

After one particularly lonely Saturday morning where he had found himself staring at his ceiling fan for hours into the late noon, he decided he needed to do something about this predicament. It took a few google searches before he finally decided on a destination, and before Arthur knew it he found himself at the entrance to Disneyland. Alone. Because where else would a lonely middle-age Englishman find himself with nowhere else to go on a Saturday? The happiest place on earth. Arthur had hoped some of that so called happiness would be shared with him if he spent a few hours there, but so far he had spent most of his time wandering aimlessly, surrounded by young couples and families, all with bright smiling faces. And much to his dismay, the overwhelming feeling that he was alone in this world, and would always be alone, solidified itself in the pit of his stomach in a way that had him weaving through the crowds in search of a smoking zone.

Arthur eventually found one tucked to the side of New Orleans Square, and spared no time in tearing open a new pack and greedily stuffing one of the tobacco filled rolls between his lips. His hands fumbled in search of his lighter, and after a moment of looking his heart sank with the realization he had left it on the dashboard of his car. His skin itched at the thought of not getting his nicotine fix when a voice to his right startled him from his habit filled thoughts.

“Need a light?”

The decal of a half naked woman was the first thing Arthur saw as the flame flicked to life in front of him. Tattooed fingers held the lighter to Arthur, and his gaze trailed up to meet a pair of dark eyes peaking through a few disheveled locks. A large grin revealed a sharp jawline that Arthur’s gaze did not overlook, and he found himself subconsciously stiffening in place.

“Thank you.” He nodded politely towards the man, leaning forward and allowing the fag still dangling from his lips to catch fire. Inhaling deeply, Arthur accepted the thick smoke into his lungs graciously and instantly felt his body grow lax at the familiar sensation.

“You know that shit is bad for you.” Arthur was surprised the man was still there, and he merely shrugged in response. However, the other seemed unbothered and continued his one-sided conversation. “I actually used to smoke a lot of those things myself. Drove my ma crazy. I’d come home from school smelling like an ashtray, used to tell me they were gonna drill a hole in my throat when I got older.”

“My mum used to tell me the same thing.” Arthur snorted, eyeing the embers as they fell from his hand. “Obviously, I don’t listen very well.”

“Me neither! Took me a few years after I graduated to quit.” As he spoke, the tall man reached into his jeans and pulled out a thin, black pen. He put the piece to his lips and took a long drag, and Arthur watched incredulously as he exhaled the earthy smelling contents. He didn’t notice the Brit’s stare immediately but when he did, he tipped his head to the side almost like a dog would and held the object to him. “Wanna hit?” And again with that shit-eating grin.

“What ever happened to that shit killing you?” Arthur asked, bemused.

Allen released a harsh, barking laugh so loud Arthur stepped back slightly from the force of it. “This? Nah! It won’t kill ya, but it might make you feel a little…. psychedelic.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Arthur stared back blankly. “You brought marijuana into Disneyland?”

Allen’s eyes widened in mock horror as he pressed a finger to his lips and shushed the Englishman sarcastically. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Not aloud, but his shoulders bounced with good nature, and the reaction had the American nearly beaming.

“I’m Allen, by the way. And what can I call a handsome face like yourself?”

Arthur jolted in place. “What? I mean, Arthur. Thanks. Bloody good to meet you.” Had he heard that right?

“Arthur… what ‘British’ name.”

“Not when you say it like that.”

Allen raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Arr-thurr.” The Brit snorted, obnoxiously emphasizing his R’s and cocking a thick eyebrow right back at the man. He basked in his own wittiness until that stupid fucking smile returned to Allen’s features and caused Arthur to look away grumpily as he took another drag from his cigarette.

“Fag.”

Smoke caught at the back of Arthur’s throat and he instantly responded with a series of harsh coughs, puffing out of him in clouds like some sort of flustered chimney. “… pardon?” He asked, his voice broken and small after such an outburst.

“That’s British, right? ‘Fag’?” Allen asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he gestured innocently to the burning stick between Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur blinked at him in disbelief. “Oh. Yes. Bloody good. I should actually really be-“

“So, what brings you here, Art?” Allen interrupted, once again bringing the pen to his mouth. He took a long drag before parting his lips slightly, allowing the thick, white fog to be pulled upwards into his nostrils from his mouth in tendrils, disappearing before Allen released it, dissipated, into an exhale.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Show off. “Are you asking why you’re talking to an Englishman in America or why a thirty year old man is wandering around Disneyland by himself?” He muttered sardonically, though he felt his pride dampen as he said it and wondered why he had said it at all.

“Wait, you’re here alone? I thought you must’ve come with your kid or something!” Allen laughed, but Arthur visibly deflated, his cheeks red and his eyes low. The Brit felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see Allen smiling. “Hey, there’s nothin’ wrong with that! I’d come here more often if I could afford it.”

Arthur stared at him curiously, eyes flicking down to his tattoo covered arms. “Really now?”

“Hell yeah!” Allen exclaimed. “Amusement parks are fun. They help get your mind off of things.” Allen brought the pen to his lips and for a moment, the two of them stood in silence. Arthur slyly peeked over at Allen to see the man staring off into New Orleans Square with a faraway look in his eyes, and for the first time in their conversation he wasn’t smiling. Despite his raw energy, in that moment, the man looked quite tired. His dark eyes were accentuated by a pair of dark circles, and he noticed that one of them might have been healing from a black eye. Arthur looked down at his hands and realized that he wasn’t the only one here with things they were running from. It made him feel less alone.

“I was bored, and desperately needed time outside of my flat. How about you?”

Allen blinked, tilting his head to one side. “Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

“Ohhh. I came with my bro and neice. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here, so I figured why the hell not? And to be honest, I’m pretty glad I did.” He grinned over at him and Arthur snorted, though he could feel his stomach tighten and his cheeks burn.

“You blush a lot. Need a water or somethin’? It’s pretty warm out today.”

“I do not. And I am very well hydrated, thank you.”

“Really? So does your face normally get this red talkin’ to people?”

“And what exactly are you getting at here?”

“I think you like me.” The cigarette fell to the floor and Arthur blinked at Allen with wide, saucer like eyes.

“Pardon?”

“You think I’m cute.” When Arthur didn’t respond, Allen confidently kept going. “You’ve been checking me out this entire time. I’m smarter than I look.”

Arthur’s mouth hung open, empty with a retort that wasn’t there. Allen reached over and placed two fingers under Arthur’s chin, gently closing it. “It’s ok, I think you’re pretty fine yourself, toots. You looked lonely so I thought I’d come over and introduce myself.” His brown eyes bore into Arthur’s, and as the sunlight reflected against them Arthur saw hues of amber. “I’m hittin on ya, if you couldn’t tell.”

It was time for Arthur to respond. He was silent for a few more moments, biting the inside of his lip. His brain felt fuzzy. “Yes.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and quickly fumbled with his cigarettes and pulled a second one to his lips. Allen raised his eyebrows in a mixture of surprise and confusion, but almost obediently lifted his lighter to the end of Arthur’s cigarette and lit it for him once again.

“To…?”

“Yes, I think you’re cute.” Arthur rolled his eyes, blowing out a thick cloud and turning his head to avoid another comment about his tendency to flush easily. “It isn’t everyday a handsome lad walks up and starts laying it on me so thickly. I’m flattered.” Arthur reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a wad of sticky notes and a pen, and it was Allen’s turn to stare incredulously as he quickly jotted 10 digits onto the surface. “Here.” He mumbled, folding the note and shoving it into Allen’s large hands. “And that better be the only one you’ve gotten today.”

After another moment of stunned silence Allen threw his hands up innocently and gave Arthur the widest smile he’d seen that day. From the side of his mouth, a missing tooth peeked out slyly and Arthur wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into.

“How does Disneyland sound for a first date?”

#I POSTED THIS ONCE YESTERDAY BUT TUMBLR KILLED THE FORMAT IDK WHAT HAPPENED #also disneyland doesn't have designated smoking zones anymore but we're just gonna ignore that fact LOL #and yes #arthur keeps a wad of sticky notes in his jacket u never know when u might need them #ALSO IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #mint chocolate usuk #2p1p usuk #Arthur kirkland #allen jones #aph england #2p america #hetalia #2p hetalia #mine #'

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tracle0 · 5 years

Text

TIME TO TALK ABOUT SUS

This time, by ‘sus’ I mean Glalis. I’ve done posts like this twice before, one about the masks in Glalis and the other one about the radio station in Sonder which you can check out if you want.

'Hey Trade what even is Glalis it sounds like a made-up word’ well you’re correct, it is. But aren’t most town names made-up words?

Glalis is an underground town, situated under Sonder. Sonder looks like this:

And Glalis is underneath that, up until the bit labelled ‘farming area’. It’s bigger than Sonder, obviously, and a hell of a lot darker. Because... underground.

‘Oh hey that’s neat and all but uh why are they underground if there’s a liveable island right there’ this goes into history buckle up kiddos.

Glalis was founded in the 13th century. Know what else was happening in the 13th century? There was some climate change, some soil exhaustion, minor things. More importantly, the Bubonic Plague was destroying Europe. This includes England, where Sonder is set.

Some people - the founders of Glalis - did not like having this disease, so (after checking they were all clean and good and not going to infect the others) they up and left their town, trying to find another new clean place to live.

Fun little fact - people in those days used to believe that diseases were carried via bad smells, hence in the nursery rhyme ‘ring a ring a roses’ there’s ‘a pocket full of posies’. Glalis founders were no different and were looking out for strong but sweet smells to overpower the stench of disease.

O hey this cavern down here has a bunch of glowing blue mushrooms that - woah, they smell really really sweet heck man let’s just set up camp down here.

So they did. And that’s how the grand little underground town of Glalis was born.

These glowing blue mushrooms are deadly - their spores, if you breathe them in, grow in your throat and suffocate you. But the spores are too heavy to be efficiently airborne, so you literally have to stand next to them and breathe heavily to be infected. They’re harmless as long as you’re wise about them. So they still grow there to this day, carefully sanctioned off and controlled.

Until I decide on an actual entrance, please assume this image from Undertale is the entrance to Glalis because art is dead and I’m not original sometimes.

‘They’ve only been underground since the 1300s? But you said that they have white hair, evolution doesn’t happen that quickly’ oh hey cool you read my comic sans powerpoint that’s very cool of you. You’re correct in all aspects of that: if they progressed through time like all of us, I don’t know how quickly they’d get white hair.

Good news for me, Glalis (and by default, Sonder) does not follow linear time. The way I described it is that they’re stuck in a bubble, which bounces through time (and space, but only in the UK, primarily England. It did show up once in Ireland, actually, but let’s just assume England). One day it could touch down in the 1400′s, the next in 2200. As long as there’s land to... land on, it could appear anywhere. And no, the land does not need to encompass where Sonder/Glalis would fit. It could appear on the little patch of grass outside your house. Space is weird.

As a result of the time issue, Glalis citizens could have been underground for thousands of lifetimes already, so I’d say the white hair has reason to be there and it’s not just me making up reasons for my antagonist to have white hair because I couldn’t decide on a hair colour.

‘Alright, whatever you weeb. You said Glalis was founded in the 1300′s - what about Sonder?’ wow, you’re really asking good questions today, reader, thank you, you make my job easier.

Sonder came later, in the late 1800s - the era of the Industrial Revolution and stuff. These kids were escaping the horrific working conditions (a bunch of those damn proletariate) and happened to stumble upon Sonder. They went ‘ehhh alright’ and set up shop.

Obviously, outside time means nothing to Sonder, so maybe they’ve been there for thousands of years - but they arrived after Glalis citizens had started to commonly have white hair.

It still took about six (nonlinear) months for Glalis and Sonder to first have contact, which was instigated while a party of Sonder people was setting up a farming location and a party of Glalis people were going above ground to harvest some of their crops. It was a big !!!!! fest, but eventually, the two towns sat down and talked through things.

One major thing they decided on quite early on was the splitting of food. Sonder would grow crops above ground because they enjoyed it and weren’t scared of the germs of the open air and also they had sunshine which is kinda needed for crop growth, and Glalis would rear animals (adding the animals that Sonder bought with them), as there’s a lot more room underground for the animals, and although they like it, animals don’t need sunlight to survive. They would share the food between the two populations, as organised by Sonder. So if one town underperformed in terms of producing food, they’d still get the same amount as the other town, and both would go sort of hungry for a year but wouldn’t starve.

‘Wow you put a lot of thought into that Trade - why?’

Sonder is a big meanie sometimes.

Also, fun fact, Sonder was a perfectly normal start-up town until Glalis made contact with them. They infected Sonder with the Weird, and Sonder did not know how to react so had to learn from Glalis.

Glalis was very kind and taught them how to survive the Weird, but they also threw in a few pranks. Rain is illegal in Sonder because Glalis said it was dangerous. It’s not dangerous, but Glalis isn’t going to tell them that anytime soon because it’s hilarious.

‘Well that’s interesting and all - crows? You mentioned crows? I like crows’ I also like crows they are very cool and also very smart.

Glalis, coming along in the 1300s as an escape from the Bubonic plague, is a town full of superstition. I’m sure one image you all know from the Bubonic plague era is that of the plague doctor:

What a cool mask. Well! Glalis saw that and went ‘huh that kinda looks like...’

‘Well, we better be nice to them and they’ll protect us from this terrifying plague.’

So they did. And crows, being the smart little nuggets they are, recognised that people in this area, and eventually, people with white hair, feed us, so we like them.

They’re semi-tame to citizens of Glalis at this point. If you’re in Sonder and you hear a crow, there’s probably an underground visitor nearby. Even in more recent years when Glalis has been struggling with food, they still bring a little bit out for the crows each time.

So yeah - the crows like Glalis people. Or people who feed them. Or both.

(awh look he’s smiling for once what a happy kid)

‘That’s pretty neat man. You mentioned masks underground - how did they come to be a thing?’ I have two answers for you, but we’ll go for the one that’s relevant to the story.

Masks are cool. Next question.

‘Trade you have to answer it you can’t just put stuff in your book for no reason’ I can and I will so don’t try me.

‘Alright, fine, whatever. You also mentioned ice skating?’ I vaguely mentioned ice skating in this post yes you are right. Ice skating is quite a big thing underground.

As seen in the map that yes, was painted, and no, I’m not the best painter but it was fun, there’s a big ol’ lake underground. It’s shaped like a whale and that is deliberate. Does it have meaning? No. I just like whales.

Anyway, underground = cold place. Cold place = water freezes. Water freezing = ice lake. The lake freezing is a hugely anticipated and celebrated event for Glalis, and midwinter is a time of great joy. Meanwhile, Sonder celebrates midsummer as an indication of the harvest about to start.

As a result of the freezing lake being so crucial to the culture, most people are good at travelling on ice, because, in winter, it’s a lot quicker to travel across the water than going around it. I would say that soldiers even train on ice because if you can win a fight on the ice you’re a lot more likely to win when not on the ice.

It’s never a big deal though dw dw dw it never comes into play within the book, not even once. Nuh-uh.

‘Okay so Glalis was cut off in the 1300s roughly - I’ve seen pictures of Andy with a gun and also red hoodie? What’s up with that, that’s too modern and also your book is set in England how did he get a gun’ are you referring to this picture

Yes? Yes. Cool.

So yes, Glalis/Sonder jump through time. As a result, people from all different time periods have stumbled onto Sonder. Not many, but a few. Mostly they’re deposited back into their own time when they leave. Sometimes they’re not.

When they do stumble into Sonder, all dangerous items they have are taken away. Mobile phones are included in this list, due to the fact they literally explode when in Sonder. These items are often stored underground because, once again, more room.

Sonder and Glalis also rarely visit each other. So although Sonder goes ‘hey don’t touch this stuff okay’ and Glalis goes ‘alright’ they still do it and they know they won’t get caught out. So Andy gets a snazzy hoodie. No, that’s not me reaching for an answer because I gave him clothes before I gave him a home, shut up.

Also in regards to the gun - they were banned in 1997, after the 1996 Dunblane school massacre. There’s every chance that the towns popped down before that point and someone wandered in who happened to have a gun. Heck, farmers are still allowed guns in England, the just have to be careful. Maybe it was a more recent find.

‘Wow you’ve really put a fair bit of thought into this, you nerd. Can we get one for idk Sonder itself?’ no, the summary for Sonder you get is the actual book. Sam - our narrator, the cool kid feeding the crow in one of the above pictures - spends a lot of time in Sonder and not enough time in Glalis. She records everything she finds out. You can find out with her.

Fun fact: I only like crows as much as I do because of this book

Tag last: (holy heck I have one of these now that’s exciting) @joyful-soul-collector

#writing #am writing #my writing #worldbuilding #writerblr #writeblr #writingblr #sonder #glalis #this got a lot longer than I thought it would #school shooting #school shotting tw #it's only a minor mention but uh #I'd rather be safe than sorry #also can I just say I'm very pleased with how I drew those crows #in the picture with Sam and Andy #like wow #nice job me

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darkhymns-fic · 5 years

Text

Serving You on Wings

Lloyd has never been to one of these theme cafés that Zelos keeps raving about. But once meeting a waitress with a unique costume that catches his eye, he can't help but want to learn more about these specially-designed wings of hers! (And her, too...)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Sheena Fujibayashi, Zelos Wilder, Alice, Decus Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: For @colloydweek Day 3: Wings. A coffee-shop AU mixed with maid cafes and handcrafted wings! This is around 7k words, I’m sorry, but the idea ran away from me.

More importantly! @frayed-symphony made a lovely fanart of a scene from the fic for this same day! Be sure to check it!

“Dude, this café,” Zelos gestured to the establishment, its curvy lettering on the sign, adorned with sparkles and pictures of cute wings over the name, “is the best café ever. Seriously.”

“Oh, that’s neat.” Lloyd looked over the sign that hung above the shop that was apparently called ‘Wings’. The lettering even seemed to change color when the sun hit it at certain angles, like a cool rainbow effect. “So the food they serve is really good? Like chicken wings?” It was called Wings, after all, so…

“Bud, that’s not the point of these!” Zelos sighed at his friend’s ignorance. “It’s a theme café! You know what those are, right?”

Lloyd stared at the sign, then back at Zelos. “So… the food isn’t good?”

“God damn, Lloyd. You’re not getting it. It’s the presentation here that’s important.”

Lloyd thought about what Zelos said for a good five seconds. “Ohhh, so like the food’s okay, but it looks cool, right?”

“Seriously, you need to stop thinking about your stomach for once in your life.” Zelos gestured again to the cafe, more vehemently this time, as if he was ready to bash Lloyd’s head in through one of the shop windows. “Theme café! You know, decorations, lighting, cute girls in costumes? They’re like angels, waiting hand and foot on you…”

“Costumes? Is it a holiday?”

“...Just-! Just get in here!” Zelos grumpily grabbed his best bud’s arm, shoving him through the door. Lloyd only had time to look through the windows to see people seated at small tables, sipping at drinks, but it didn’t look any different from any other café. The following delicate chime of the door clashed a bit discordantly with them both arguing.

“Gah! Stop pushing me already!” Lloyd shouted.

“Stop rejecting the good things in life!” Zelos countered back.

“Hello! Welcome to the Wings Café!” said someone else entirely. “Where we serve you… on wings!”

Lloyd had managed to get Zelos in a headlock so that the guy could stop pushing him when he finally noticed the person speaking to them. He raised his head, momentarily stunned. A girl with shining blonde hair stood before them in a frilly maid uniform, tinged a light green and a soft white. She even had a cap to match her dress, outfitted with red ribbons, and…

“Oh? Wings?” he said aloud.

He wasn’t talking about the name. A pair of literal wings extended from the girl’s back, dyed pink and all decorated in sparkles! They were so sparkly that some of the glitter drifted from those wings to flutter to the floor whenever the girl shifted a little. She was looking at him curiously ever since his little comment.

“Uh, hi!” Lloyd greeted. Huh, so this was what Zelos meant by cute girls in costumes… A choking sound reminded him about said Zelos was struggling in his grip. “Oh, sorry,” but his apology was half-hearted at best.

“The hell, Lloyd! Were you trying to knock me out?” Zelos complained.

“Wow, you two must be really good friends!” The girl said. “Did you need a table for two?”

“Oh, you’re new here!” Zelos crooned, winking at the girl, not at all mindful to how messy his hair looked now from him and Lloyd’s brief scuffle. “Have I died and gone to heaven now?”

“Oh, I hope not!” the girl helpfully added. “Does that mean you’re sick? I hope you feel better soon!”

That clearly hadn’t been the reaction that Zelos had expected, hesitating on his next pick-up line. Lloyd almost burst out in laughter at the expression on the guy’s face. “I was- I was just saying you looked nice-”

“Don’t listen to him. He says this every time he comes in here, which is already too damn much.”

A black-haired women walked up to the other, holding a platter full of dirty plates and mugs. Well, maybe not walked, she seemed to float to her almost? Which confused Lloyd for a bit. But she had wings on her back, too – smaller ones that were feathery looking and painted white. She made sure to give a wide berth around Zelos as she got ready to leave again, all while glaring daggers at him. “You try any funny business on her, I’m serving you out the door.”

Zelos smiled then, looking instantly right at home. “Heey, Sheena! My favorite maid! Missed you, too!”

Now that Lloyd looked around, it wasn’t just these two girls that had on wings – it looked like all the servers did! Women in serving outfits waited on tables, smiling as bright as the wings they wore behind them. Some wings were pure white, some were rich black, while others went for a multicolor effect. But none of them reached the shade of pink that the greeting girl had.

“Let me show you to your seats!” spoke said girl. She bowed politely, and in the process, nearly slipped. Lloyd reached out reflexively to catch her by the arms.

“Whoa! You okay?” he asked, looking down at the floor. Was it just slippery? Then he noticed the roller skates. Oh, that explained before…

“Ah, sorry! I… messed up, hehe. Thanks.” The girl smiled up at him, her own hands resting against his forearms as he held her. Eventually, she got up on her own and let go, and that was when he caught her nametag on her uniform. Colette, it said. Hm. “A-anyway, let me show you to a table!”

Maybe Zelos had a point about this place.

Lloyd, in his entire life, had never heard of an angel themed café before. Or… a themed anything, actually.

“Man, you are just so sad.” Zelos shook his head at his friend’s misfortunes. “Good thing you have me along to teach you some class!”

“You really gotta though?” He got a closer look at all the people working here, still waiting on people’s tables as their wings fluttered behind them. Some of them even had halos! And then some had like four wings or more which was kind of weird.

He hadn’t seen the girl named Colette ever since she brought them to their table, and then essentially skated away. Or ‘floated away’? That seemed to be the effect of the skates anyway. He kept watching out for her..

“Anyway, what did I tell ya? This is the best place!” Zelos leaned back on his chair, looking intensely proud of himself. “I can tell you like it too!”

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

“So which one would you say is your favorite? I always rank Sheena as the best with that rack, but last time she undercooked my omelet which gave me a stomachache, so I’m bumping her down a few points-”

Lloyd wasn’t listening. He caught sight of Colette again, carrying a platter in her hands, topped with the coffee drinks they ordered. She was still in her skates, looking around in obvious confusion around the café. “Hey! Colette!” He waved, so that Colette could see him. And she did!

Though in her turn, she nearly upended the platter full of drinks, but caught herself just in time, balancing herself shakily on her rolling footwear. She went over to them. “Hello! How did you know my name?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Zelos asked his friend with the deepest of suspicions.

“Oh, your nametag.” It was right there, after all. “I’m Lloyd, by the way!”

“What? Who reads those?” No one answered Zelos still.

Colette smiled back at Lloyd, her eyes bright and cheery as she placed Lloyd’s coffee on the table. “It’s really nice to meet you, Lloyd!” She stood up straight again, her wings catching the sunlight through the windows, shimmering with a myriad of pink shades. “If you want to eat too, we have a special on blueberry pancakes today!”

While food sounded good to Lloyd, he was still really caught up in those wings, eyes drawn to its structure, to its sparkling features, to the very difference of its shape compared to the other maids’ wings. He placed his chin in his hand, so preoccupied with his stare. Actually… “How come yours looks different from everyone’s?”

“Hm?”

“Your wings, I mean.”

Colette craned her head a little to look at her wings, her expression brightening even more at his curiosity. “Oh! Well, most of the others’ wings came with their uniforms. But I decided to make my own! I used this special cardboard for arts and crafts, and tried to come up with my own design! Though… some of the customers complain I used too much glitter…”

“No way, the glitter is really cool! Like, you’re supposed to be this magic angel, yeah? It fits!”

“Ah, you really think so?” Colette’s expression was as radiant as her wings. “Thank you!”

“I- I was just about to say the same thing!” spoke Zelos, who continued being ignored.

“It looks really complicated, too. But it must be a hassle when you need to change your clothes or something. Did you have to make holes in your uniform?”

If anyone even knew that Zelos existed, they might have noticed his look of pure befuddlement on his face.

To Colette, however, such questions made a lot of sense. “It’s actually really easy to put on! Look!” She pointed to a hidden little string that was hanging by the side of her uniform. “I use these to make them flutter, but I can put them away, too! See?” Colette pulled at the string then, and shwip! The wings folded inside themselves, all neatly against her back so that she was just a regular serving girl instead of an angel maid.

“Whoa!” Lloyd was clearly impressed. Her wings had practically vanished! “How’d you come up with that? It must have taken a while to make!”

Zelos remained in the background, frowning as hard as he could. “Dude… you are missing the whole point of this place…”

“I just worked on it a lot!” She pulled at the string once more, revealing her wings in a shower of falling sparkles. Lloyd thought it looked amazing! A customer behind Colette flinched instead, muttering about there being ‘glitter in my soup…’

Colette then raised her head up, looking towards the kitchen. “Oh, sorry I have to go now! I’ll be right back and – ah! Sorry, but did you want anything to eat?”

“Hm… those blueberry pancakes sound really good!” Lloyd said, watching the way her wings seemed to flutter on their own accord.

“Okay! I’ll be right back with your order!” Colette turned instantly, another shower of sparkles getting everywhere in the air at Zelos’ direction. He coughed and sputtered as some of the sparkles got in his throat. “Gah! Oh god there’s so much…”

Lloyd just watched all that glitter dance in the air, trailing after Colette as she skated away. “That’s so cool…”

“Hey, she still has my coffee!” Zelos whined. “Ugh, sorry, bud, but I’m gonna have to rank little miss angel a bit low.”

Zelos was really just background noise to Lloyd at this point. Those wings were so neat! Could he… huh…

“What the hell are you grinning about now?” Zelos said, grumpy that the angel café today was not exactly being the best to him right now.

“Eh, nothing, don’t worry about it,” Lloyd said, sipping at his coffee. Did he order this hot or cold? He couldn’t really remember. Oh well, not like it mattered anyway. He liked both!

“We got a new recruit coming in!”

Colette had only been working at the café for a couple of weeks, and though she had mixed up a few orders and spread her wing’s glitter wherever she went, people were so overwhelmingly fond of her. They could even forgive her tripping over her skates and breaking some tables in the process! Although when that happened, it came out of her paycheck…

So she was instantly curious when she heard she wouldn’t be the only newbie anymore! Sheena’s voice called out as the veteran waitress opened the door to the back, where Colette was putting away all the plates and cups. “Hey, Colette. Think you can help train this guy?”

“Oh?” But she was a bit new herself, and she had dropped so much silverware the past week, too. “Is that really ok-” She stopped, realizing who it was she was going to train. He stood behind Sheena, his face instantly familiar. “Lloyd?”

“Hi, Colette!” Lloyd greeted enthusiastically. He was grinning wide at her, as he did on the day she first met him. He was already wearing a serving uniform, too! A black serving apron over a white long-sleeved shirt, complete with a black bowtie! He wore it well!

She couldn’t help the smile forming on her face. “H-hi! It’s so nice to – wah!” Still carrying one of the plates, the wings she still wore snagged onto a nearby cabinet, offsetting her balance. Oh no, she was going to break something else again…

Arms enveloped her, keeping her steady and safe. “You alright?” She looked up to see Lloyd over her, getting a much better look at his outfit this time.

Sheena, standing behind them both, sighed. “Yeah… that’s one reason why I thought you two should start working together.”

Even though she was a bit embarrassed, she was glad for the boy’s arms around her. “Hehe, yeah… sorry, I keep messing up a lot.”

“Wearing those skates must be really tricky though,” Lloyd said, no blame at all in his tone. He helped her stand, hands remaining steady on her arms. “Well, I can catch you then from now on!”

“Oh? You’d do that?” Colette was a bit overwhelmed by the wealth of information happening. This time, Sheena came to her rescue for that.

“We really don’t get enough guy workers here that don’t just hole themselves up in the kitchen. Think they’re put off by the costumes. So Lloyd here is a lifesaver! It’s actually pretty lucky we already had the right size for his uniform.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to work here that much!” Colette commented.

Lloyd was looking quite excited for his new job, standing tall and proud in his server uniform. “Yeah! Hope that isn’t too weird though.”

“Not at all!” Colette had just been wondering when the nice Lloyd person would come back…

“Well, today’s your first day, so get started!” Sheena announced, already passing them by to leave them to their training. But not before she leaned down to whisper to Colette. “You know, he specifically asked for you.”

“Huh?” Colette wondered aloud, but Sheena had already gone, grabbing up a (non-broken) plate, filled with prepared pastries and drinks, and going outside.

Also, something about what her friend mentioned had made her feel so light, and even more so when she turned back to Lloyd, his smile so bright and his hair so neatly styled and yet a little ruffled looking at the same time.

“That’s really cool that you get to wear your wings all the time,” Lloyd said once they were alone. “Think I can earn mine soon?”

“Oh, you also want…” There were only maids working on the floor, but since Lloyd joined, maybe it would be different? “Wings would look cool on you! But you’d have to make them yourself!”

“Ah, I see… Then I should get started on that right now!”

“Wait, but um, you’re right that you have to earn them!” Her eyes darted to a nearby sink. “So, you’ll have to help me clean these dishes! And not break them!” Well, only she ever broke them anyway…

“Oh, that’s easy!” Lloyd said, rolling up his sleeves. “So this is part of the training?”

Maybe it was? She’d never trained anybody before, and she’d only worked here for a little while… Still, she nodded at him. “Yeah! And you have to do it fast, too!” Why did she feel so competitive suddenly?

But Lloyd only grinned, his eyes bright with eagerness. Their auburn brown matched with his hair, so open and honest. “You got it!”

Also, it was nice what he said before, about being there to catch her. Hopefully they’d work the same shifts for the most part.

“Bud?! I take you to my perfect angel paradise and this is the thanks I get?”

“So… you don’t want the frappucino then?” Lloyd asked Zelos with sincere curiosity, pen and notebook in hand.

Lloyd had only been working for a few days and was already a star server – almost as big a star as Colette, but minus the accidents. Actually, even Colette had minus the accidents herself! Lloyd was true to his word when he said he’d catch her. Customers soon couldn’t separate the pair, watching in awe as Lloyd expertly caught Colette by the waist before a plate full of cakes could tip over. Though, not everyone appreciated this heavenly combo.

“Lloyd, you just don’t fit the theme at all ,” Zelos grumbled.

“Hey, I’m working on it!” True, he kind of stood out among all the angel maids that worked there, one aspect that Zelos had definitely noticed and only grew more and more suspicious of. “Soon you’re going to see how I’ll fit right in here!”

“…Nah, I see how it is. To think, you’re not just some dumb country boy, after all…” Zelos’ expression grew quite serious, his eyes shadowed away from the slanting sunlight through the window. “Getting a job where you get to be surrounded by beautiful girls all day… why didn’t I think of that?”

Lloyd hadn’t exactly heard the last part. Zelos tended to mumble a lot when he tried to look all mysterious like that. “Okay, are you getting the frappucino or what? I have to get back to Colette to help fix up stuff.”

“See? There’s cunning underneath that hick charm! And to think I fell for it!”

Off near the other side of the café behind the counter, Sheena was busy brewing the hot drinks with Colette, and all too clearly hearing at least Zelos’ side of the conversation. “I wasn’t kidding when I said Lloyd was a lifesaver. I don’t think that redhead noticed me once today, thank goodness.”

“Well, they’re friends, so they’re both just catching up maybe!” She didn’t find Zelos to be so bad, just sometimes he laughed a bit too loudly. It always startled her enough to drop her platter, although Lloyd was usually near her to save her (and the orders).

Lloyd finally came back up to them, already moving expertly on his skates, his server apron flowing behind him in his rush. “Sorry! That took a little longer than I meant to…”

Sheena waved away his apology. “Nah, don’t worry. I already got that guy’s order ready in the meantime!”

Colette looked at the plate that Sheena now held in her hands. “Oh! I was wondering why you asked the chef for the octopus sushi.”

“Oh, but…” Lloyd looked at his notepad. “He told me he wanted the caramel frappucino.”

“Trust me, he’ll be happy with this.” Sheena smirked, the feathery wings behind her lilting along with her as she quietly snickered. It didn’t seem all that angelic. “See ya guys later!”

Once Sheena left Colette behind the counter, Lloyd placed his elbows over the wooden surface as he leaned on it, letting out a deep sigh. “Man, it’s really busy today! I could go for coffee myself…”

“Well, I could make you some!” Colette offered. “Oh, but then you would have to pay for it. Sorry.”

“I don’t really get why you’re apologizing… Oh, Colette!” Lloyd raised his head up to her excitedly. “I almost forgot. I got something to show you! You said I needed to earn my wings, right?”

“Huh? Oh! Y-yeah!” Colette felt a bit bad about that now. Lloyd could have worn wings anytime he wanted, but she liked it when they served together, or cleaned up during the closing hours, or even hung out in the back, putting away the plates and silverware. She may have been keeping him to herself a bit much…

“It’s in the back! Come on!” Lloyd was so eager that he even leaped over the counter, with skates and all, already gesturing her towards the door that led to calmer part of the kitchen. There would be no one to take charge of the counter to take up orders… but Lloyd really wanted to show her something! She couldn’t just not follow him, and before she knew it, she dashed after him, the momentum of her skates nearly making her tumble into him (he caught her just in time), and then the edge of her wings catching themselves in the doorway (which he rescued her from that too).

Eventually, they both made it behind the doors, Lloyd picking up something from the side. “I didn’t have to make holes in my shirt luckily…” he said, fitting whatever object on him like a backpack. She didn’t see what it was exactly, but she caught sight of a string hanging by the side of his uniform, jogging a familiar memory. Lloyd stood before her with his hands on his hips, clearly excited.

“Check it out!” He then pulled the handy string by his side. In a burst of azure, long wings suddenly flew up from his back. With them came a flurry of dazzling sparkles, floating through the air all around Colette and Lloyd, like starlight.

Colette gasped in surprise and wonder! “Wow! You made those?” The way the light shone made them seem so translucent, their shape strongly emulating a bird’s wings. But he didn’t stick feathers to his wings like the other servers did. They really were their own thing. “Those are beautiful!”

“Heh, yeah they’re pretty cool, huh?” He turned, and one wingtip edged along the kitchen shelf, knocking down a small pot to the floor with a clang. But it did so through a shower of glitter, so at least when it fell, it looked neat doing so! “Uh, sorry.”

Then it got her curious, all that glitter. “Do you like you using glitter too? I thought I was the only one.”

At that Lloyd grinned wide, once again showing off his equally wide wings. “I was thinking about your wings a lot when I made this! I really wanted to see if I could make something like yours! Though I guess maybe they’re a little too long, hm.” He had to sidle a bit to the right, letting one chef get by him, and not passing by unscathed, remnants of sparkles already on their sleeves.

“Something like mine?” She felt those wings of hers hang onto her uniform, where no amount of washing would ever get rid of those pink glitters that stuck to the material. They would be the same way for Lloyd’s uniform, too. “Are you sure you want something like that? Sometimes the customers complain…”

Lloyd angled his head, blinking. “Do you think I shouldn’t? I can put them away like you though! See?” He pulled at the string again, though only one wing folded back in on itself, the other still staying out. “Um, I can fix that.” Still, he looked to Colette like a happy kid in a candy shop. “I wanted to make it so we can match maybe!”

“We…” she started to say, then grew even happier at the mention once she realized. “Oh! We… we do match!”

“Hehe, yeah, that’s why I wanted to work here in the first place!” Lloyd said.

“Oh, you mean to make these wings for the café?”

“…Ah, yeah! Pretty much, yeah.” Lloyd coughed to the side, then tried pulling his string again, unhooking that one folded wing. “Think we can go out there together then? I think it’s almost lunchtime.”

“Yeah!” His unearthed wing brought forth another array of sparkles, some of them catching onto her uniform, so that it decorated her in sparkling pink and blue. She was happy, more happy than she expected herself to be. Lloyd, in his wings, smiled at her so kindly. She hoped he would stay on, and not get bored of working here… “Let’s go! I think Sheena might be- ah!”

Another trip, and another catch with Lloyd’s arms. His wings fanned out around her, letting her see that before Lloyd’s face as she turned around in his hold. “It’s too bad these wings can’t help you float,” he said, but his smile still kind.

It was strange, because she already felt so light suddenly.

“Hello! Welcome to the Wings Café!”

Genis stared blankly at the angelic duo, who had both simultaneously greeted him barely a second after he walked in. “Wow, I didn’t think Zelos was serious.”

Colette’s wings splayed out behind her in a display of pink brilliance. Her smile matched that same brightness. For the past few days, Colette felt like she was walking on air, like she really was flying high. Lloyd, standing next to her in greeting, was also smiling wide, his own wings spread out before him in several shades of blue and white.

“Genis!” Lloyd said excitedly. “So you know about this place, too? Oh yeah, this is Colette!”

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you!”

Genis also had a certain look, one that he flicked over to Lloyd and then to Colette, the shine of their wings reflecting in his eyes. “Haha, okay, I was wondering why Lloyd actually went out and got a job of all things.”

Still with that server friendly smile, Lloyd sidled up to Genis and gave him a playful tap on the head. “Shut it.”

“Ack! Okay, geez.”

Colette didn’t totally understand what this Genis person meant but she felt happy knowing another friend of Lloyd’s all the same.

“Oh yeah, there’s a free table over here-” Lloyd then turned, his wings swishing along with him. One wing slapped the back of Genis’ head in a flurry of blue sparkles.

“Gah! Lloyd!”

“Oops. Didn’t mean it that time!”

The two had already been fairly popular among the customers before, but with Lloyd’s new addition of his wings, they were a hit. More customers had started flooding the Wings Café lately, curious about the clumsy pink-winged girl that would always be caught by the blue-winged boy beside her. It didn’t matter if sometimes Lloyd and Colette would mess up an order, or accidentally serve an iced coffee instead of hot – it was hard to stay mad at either of them.

Although hearing about the only guy server in the café also brought out some troublemakers, too.

“We’ve been waiting to be served for more than ten minutes already!”

Colette turned towards the far right of the café, blinking at a pair seated. Ah right, it was the couple that had come by earlier while Lloyd had been busy helping someone. She remembered the girl hadn’t looked too happy at her greeting… Also, there was a strange, but very strong smell coming from that section. She noted quite a few tables around the two were empty. “Oh! I’m sorry, I’ll be right there!”

“That’s okay, Colette. I got it!” Lloyd quickly skated past her, his long wings somehow avoiding her, except with a small brush of the wingtip, gentle as he passed. “Colette can help you, Genis!”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’ll knock me out with her wings,” Genis muttered, trying to shake blue glitter from his long hair.

Still, Colette worried a bit. Those customers didn’t have the nicest of expressions. But Lloyd would be okay, and she wouldn’t be too far anyway.

“Decus! Ugh, stop trying to hold my hand and order me my parfait already!”

“Yes, of course! Alice, my dear, I’ll order up every parfait this dinky little café has to offer.”

“Oh, now you’re trying to get me fat? You idiot.”

They talked loud too, just another reason why some of the other customers had pointedly moved their seats further away, some even leaving early. Lloyd wasn’t getting any good vibes from these two (and the guy’s cologne was so strong it nearly stung his eyes), but he’d still give them good service. Colette had taught him that a server needed to always be cheerful for their customers! She also taught him the right way to arrange a fruit platter, and how to give a dog the perfect name… which the last one had nothing to do with the café really, but that was when they had been on their break, watching some leashed dogs pass by the windows. They had been having some left-over coffee from the morning batch, Lloyd thinking it had especially tasted nice that day.

…Anyway, where had he been going with these thoughts? Oh yeah! He had to be a good server! So, holding in his breath to try to withstand that cologne, he rolled towards them.

“Hey, sorry for the wait! What can I get ya?” He put on his smile, and puffed out his chest a little, showing off the wings he was proud of. He had worked on these for a whole night, too! Luckily, he had only fallen asleep standing on his skates once or twice that following day.

The Decus person angled his head towards Lloyd, narrowing his eyes underneath a fringe of dark violet hair. He had on a jacket whose fur collar nearly hid his mouth – but not enough. Lloyd could see his deep frown.

“You can get us our time back! Any longer and my Alice would have died from starvation!”

“Stop calling me fat!” Alice yelled, before turning to Lloyd with a sneer. “Oh, so you’re the new hot server everyone’s raving about? I expected a little more…”

“Is it too warm in here?” Lloyd inquired helpfully. “I guess I can tell them to turn down the heat.”

Alice kept smiling, unkind in all its curves. “Oh, that’s cute.”

This didn’t make Decus happy at all. “Hey buddy, you better keep your eyes off her! Guys like you… thinking you can get anyone at anytime!”

Was this guy a friend of Zelos or something? “Er, okay. You sound kinda hoarse there. Did you need some water first?”

Alice was not just smiling but laughing at this point. “Decus, I’m sure you too could make some crayon drawings of wings if you tried!”

Lloyd wasn’t really liking their tone here… Also, were they making fun of his wings now?

“Those wings are not my style, Alice! I mean, unless you want me to wear them? Do… do you want me to? I’ll wear anything for you!”

“Haha! You’re such a loser, Decus!”

Yeah, he was getting a bad vibe from these two for sure. But he had to keep on smiling! “Hey, so, did you guys want to order something? I’ll get it for you fast!”

Alice turned to him with another of those weird smiles of her own. “Hm, don’t we get a discount though? For making us wait for so long?”

“Um, well, I’d have to ask my manager about that…” But he knew Sheena was busy right now, so...

“Just going to make us wait longer then? What terrible service!” Decus was talking really loudly again, swishing back his ponytail, and with that motion, a waft of his cologne went straight into Lloyd’s face. He had to turn to the side and cough. Okay, that scent was awful.

“And he’s sick, too!” Decus yelled. “I’m calling the health inspector! Don’t you dare get my Alice sick!”

What? “I’m not sick!” he said back, inwardly wincing at his tone. He had only been working here for about a week and was already bringing trouble to the café. Although he was already aware of how bad these guys were… “I’ll get you a discount then. Just let me know what you want.” Usually getting orders didn’t take this long.

Meanwhile, said Alice leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a pout. “I think we should get our drinks for free. Sick on the job, late on getting to our table, and yelling at my boyfriend?” She took out her phone, tapping away at the screen. “If not, I’ll have to leave a bad review on this place…”

Decus turned to her with wide and happy eyes. “B-boyfriend? So that means you-!”

“Oh my god, Decus, shut up.”

Gah, now he was going to lower their star rating too? Lloyd felt helpless, annoyed, and frankly, a little angry. “Okay! I’ll get you stuff for free, just tell me what you want.” Guess he was going to be paying their tab...

Alice thought for an increasingly long time, making Lloyd finding it a bit hard to stay still on his skates. “First, do something fun for us! Do a dance with those wings of yours!”

…Yeah, he was done with this. “No.”

Alice raised an eyebrow. “Oh? But you were being such a good servant boy!”

“Look, seriously. You guys need to order something if you’re going to be here.” He didn’t put up a smile anymore, and he hoped this wouldn’t mess up his chances with… “Also, your yelling is disturbing the other customers.” He knew why no one wanted to be near these two.

“Oh? Is that a problem?” Decus was sneering. “We’re not just bothering you, are we?”

“Maybe a little bit!” Lloyd said, losing his cool. Crap.

That was when a hand shot out to grab at him – or at his wing, actually! It nearly made him stumble on his skates, but he was able to keep his balance, if only slightly. “Hey! Let go!”

Decus only tightened his fist, enough to bend the wingtip and warp the shape. “What kind of guy wears these anyway?”

No one was nearby to hear his trouble, everyone already scared away by the cologne. Lloyd’s first instinct was to push the guy away… but he couldn’t do that to a customer. He’d get fired for sure! And if he got fired, then he wouldn’t be able to see-

“Lloyd! Is everything okay?”

At the familiar voice, he turned, finding Colette already skating towards him. She looked worried, her own wings fluttering behind her, even more glitter getting onto the floor. The floorboards were practically painted over with the stuff, reflecting pink and blue. She was rushing though, probably more than they were allowed to…

Also, she was carrying a plate full of drinks and cakes in her hands as she did so.

Lloyd already knew the outcome, but with the guy holding onto his wing, enough to tear the fabric a little, he couldn’t go to Colette to catch her. “Wait! Colette! You’re going to-“

“Ah, whoops!”

The plate flew through the air, the drinks and cakes already past saving, seeming to go in slow-motion. Half of the Wings Café menu were quickly being delivered to the mean couple. At the very least, it got the Decus guy to finally let him go in order to try to save himself… even if it was in vain.

It was kind of a real mess afterwards.

“Agh! Decus, this is all your fault!”

Lloyd had rushed over to Colette, ignoring the fact that both Decus and Alice were trying to get frosting and caramel out of their hair. “You okay?”

Colette craned her head up, smiling with shame. “Ehehe… I messed up.”

The Wings Café never had a banned customer’s list before, but Lloyd felt some sense of relief when he helped post up both Alice and Decus’ pictures on the wall, showcasing other servers on who to never let in again. “Man, I’m really surprised I didn’t get in trouble for this…”

It was closing time right about now, and he and Colette were scheduled to help lock things up, and do any last-minute cleaning. Right now, Colette was quickly sweeping up the floors, free now of crumbs, lint, and a few extra sparkles, even though most sparkles were too impossible to ever get rid of. “When I told the boss about how they hurt your wings, he understood completely! He’s very nice.”

“You know, since I started working here, I don’t think I ever met our boss. You always make him sound like this perfect person…” Could Lloyd hope to be as cool as this mysterious man in charge?

“Oh, Mr. Kratos is very kind!” She came up to him, most of her sweeping now done. “He just has a serious face. He’d look nice in wings too if he wore them, I think.”

Something about that irritated Lloyd just a little. But a quick look at his wings, one of them now twisted at the end, the glitter having been swiped away, made him sigh. “Maybe I should stop wearing these things.”

“Oh… do you not like your wings anymore?” Colette fiddled with the broom handle, looking down. “You worked so hard on them.”

“Yeah, I did… but they keep getting in the way of people, don’t they? And then they can just be messed up easily like this…” He shook his head, looking to the floor, so messy now because of him. “Maybe those two were right though. They just look dumb on me.”

“I… I don’t think that’s true at all!”

Startled by the sudden emotion in Colette’s voice, Lloyd turned back to her. She had moved nearer, her blue eyes glinting with confidence.

“Colette?”

“Lloyd, everyone has been happy ever since you started working here. And people love your wings! We get more and more customers coming by because of you.”

“People come by to see you too!” He argued, but she only continued.

“Your wings really do look great, Lloyd. And…the fact that you wanted to make them because of me, that made me very happy.” Her voice got quiet. “I’ve been so happy since you started working with me.”

With that, the reason why he applied for this job in the first place came back to him in full clarity.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask-” He stepped forward, and felt himself slip, his skates catching on something unseen. Oh right, he was still wearing the skates…

Colette tried to keep him steady, she really did! Her arms reached out to wrap around his waist, but Lloyd was heavier than her, with longer legs that tripped hers. It was difficult keeping control of her own skates, and combined with Lloyd's didn’t make things much easier.

With a clatter, both fell to the floor, a shower of blue and pink floating in the air around them, catching the light of the café’s lamps. He felt a little crunch behind him, his wings suffering another injury today. Ah man...

“I- I’m so sorry, Lloyd! Are you okay?”

A little dazed, but Lloyd recovered, already sitting up. He leaned just a bit on his side, his bulky skates getting in the way of any comfort. “Yeah, it’s okay, I’m fine-” He stopped when he realized her face was near his, looking so concerned, her eyes open with worry.

“You’re really not hurt? I tried to hold on… but I couldn’t. I’m such a klutz. I think I messed up your wings a little too… I’m so sorry.”

In her trip, she had fallen just a bit over him. She began to move away, the glitter getting into her hair, her legs also stretched out awkwardly due to her skates. Through it all, her wings stayed in shape, always seeming to flutter whenever she moved. But there was more to her than that, like the way she held a mug so carefully in both hands, trying to safeguard it from future falls, or how she could tease him back just as easily, though one would never guess at first. The times she stuck her tongue out at him when the soap suds from his dishwashing got into his hair had been numerous, and each one always got him laughing.

The reason why he wanted to be here still resounded in his head.

Before she could completely go, Lloyd reached for her hands. This made her pause, looking at their connection before raising them back to his face.

“Uh,” he started, suddenly drawing a complete blank until... “Hey, uh, did you want to get coffee later?”

Colette was clearly confused by his sudden question, but that didn’t stop her from answering him. “Oh, I can get us some now if you want! I think it might be kinda old after being in the machine all day though.”

“Ah, no, not that!” Lloyd looked again to the ground, the floor a sparkling mess of blue and pink, their own bodies sprawled on it. More glitter that would never come off would be on their uniforms, but that had never bothered him. He still felt her grip in his hands. “I mean, like… somewhere else? Or it can be here, too! But I mean, when we’re not working?”

Colette blinked, framed by her wings still, by her hair, by the uniform that was slightly ruffled. The silence stretched on, making Lloyd drastically rethink his life choices. The urge to move his legs was getting strong, but well, that was hard to do now.

“Sorry, never mind, we don’t need to-”

“Okay.”

Lloyd hesitated. “…Okay, we don’t need to? Or… to the other thing?”

He felt her clasp their hands tighter. Somehow, glitter had gotten on their fingers, too! But Lloyd didn’t mind still. He felt Colette didn’t either. “To the other thing!”

He gripped her hands back, unable to stop smiling, his cheeks aching from the strain. But he didn’t want to stop.

“Um, well alright!” Those were lame words to her acceptance, but his happiness was indescribable now. “So maybe like… after we’re done here?”

Colette nodded her head. “Yeah, of course!” She looked around them, trying to pull her knees in with some slowness. “Um, just gotta figure out how to get up…”

“Oh yeah… well, we got time!” He straightened, hearing the flap of his left wing. It tilted a little, looking forlorn, though still shining bright. “Hm, though I’m going to need to fix up these wings later..”

He felt Colette’s thumb rub against his hand in thought. “Does that mean you’ll still wear them then?”

Lloyd gave her a grin. “Well, yeah. I have to keep these if I’m gonna be staying here, right? Or we wouldn’t match anymore.”

Colette giggled softly, more softer than usual. He liked that. “You’re right! And.. I’ll help, too! If that’s okay.”

At that moment, Lloyd really felt like he was on wings, more than ever before.

Bonus:

The door chimed. Both Lloyd and Colette turned, ready with their smiles. “Hello! Welcome to the Wings-“

“Hold on! Quiet for a sec! The Great Zelos is joining your staff!”

Lloyd kept on smiling, looking so perfectly cheerful. “No you’re not.”

Zelos was taken aback by his best bud’s assurance. “Y-yeah, I am! Look! I even made my own wings!” He pointed behind him at some third-rate cardboard version of what looked like Lloyd and Colette’s wings coming out of his back… kind of. The wings were cut out lazily, the angles all sharp and uneven. It was painted orange, and half of the glitter was already washed off after having not being coated with care.

“Get ready for angel Zelos, serving all the pretty ladies here!”

Colette smiled politely. “Um! Looks… okay!”

One wing fell to the floor in a heap with a loud rip. Zelos blinked at it, a little confused as to how this happened.

In the back, Sheena’s uproarious laughter could be heard.

“Oh, I guess someone told Sheena a really good joke,” Colette thought aloud.

#colloydweek2019 #lloyd irving #colette brunel #tales of symphonia #colloyd #zelos wilder #sheena fujibayashi #fanfiction #one shot #THIS IS REALLY LONG SORRY #i just want colloyd in a coffee shop all the time

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cchellacat · 5 years

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Happier

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge

Day Fourteen ~ Doing something fun/special together.

“Darcy, hey, wake up!”

There’s a blaze of light as the curtains are pulled open and the sunlight hits Darcy directly in the face. She groans dramatically and rolls over burying her face in his pillow.

“Go away.”

“Darcy! Come on, you have to get up. Things to do, people to see.”

She pulls the duvet over her head, her voice muffled as she replies.

“What? Ugg, no, I am not getting up! It’s too damn early for this.”

“Oh, come on, it’s going to be a good day. You can’t lie in bed forever.”

“Says who?” Darcy mutters into the comforter.

The cover is suddenly gone and the bed dips dangerously. She blinks up and glares at Jane.

“Seriously? Who died and made you Queen?”

Jane pulls that mulish expression; the one Darcy could really have lived her whole life without seeing.

“Up, we have things to do. I have a list of instructions and you’re not getting out of it.”

Darcy frowns, blowing a curl out of her face.

“Instructions?”

Jane smiles warmly down at her. Darcy does not feel like smiling back, but a little voice in the back of her head nudges her to bite anyway.

“Up, I have coffee ready in the kitchen and Tony had your favourite pastries flown in from that bakery in Chicago.

Darcy blinks stupidly at Jane. It’s not her birthday. What the hell is going on?

Jane jumps off the bed before she can ask anything else and grabs her hand, dragging her up. For such a tiny woman she sure has a lot of strength.

“Okay, fine, I’m up. But I wanted it recorded that it is under protest.”

“Duly noted.” Jane replies dryly, shoving her toward the bathroom.

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By the time she steps out of the shower and into the bedroom again she actually feels awake and at least a little intrigued by Janes mysterious instructions.

On the bed Jane has laid out an outfit for her. It’s one she hasn’t worn in a long time. The dress is a deep amber with white polka dots and the long wrap cardigan is a jewel toned burgundy red. The heels she’s left out match and Darcy feels a tiny thrill of nostalgia.

When she’s finally seated at the table, she finds everything exactly as Jane said it would be, fresh French pressed coffee and an array of artesian pastries she loves.

She pulls the sleeves of the cardigan up to her elbows and digs in, humming appreciatively at the fine coffee and equally fine chocolate twist.

“Okay, Boss lady, hit me, what do I have to do?”

“Well.” Jane tells her, reaching into her bag. “Bucky asked me to give you this…” Jane pulls the letter from her bag and offers it to her carefully.

Darcy sets the cup down and reaches for the letter with numb fingers.

When her hand shakes, she unfolds it and lays it on the table so she can read it.

Good morning Babydoll,

I bet you didn’t expect this, but you know I never leave anything to chance. I promised you something once and I followed through, now I’m callin’ in my favour. I want you to follow my plan, just this once, no arguing. I know you’re callin’ me all the names of the day in your head right now, but I swear, you’ll thank me later. I expect if Jane followed through, you’re wearing that dress and those shoes, you know the ones I mean…

Darcy slapped her hand over her mouth and choked back an unsteady sobbing laugh. He was such a sneaky little shit.

Do you remember the day you wore it last? We went out to Coney Island, you hated it, complained the whole day about the cheap food and the sand everywhere and the crowds. But you went anyway, you knew it made me happy to take you there. I remember takin’ off those strappy little heels and holding them for you while we walked along sand. You looked beautiful in that dress, with your hair up and little wisps of curls kissing the skin at the nape of your neck. We stood on the beach and watched the sunset. You made me happy that day, let me make today happy for you. So, listen up Darcy Elizabeth cause there’s a schedule, you don’t want to be late for the grand finally. Listen to Jane, I know she’ll keep you right doll, I know I can trust her to keep her mouth shut, so don’t go needling her to tell. I hope today will be as special for you as made that one for me.

James.

P.S. I love you.

Darcy bit back her tears and pressed her fingers flat into the paper, biting her lip hard. After taking a few minutes to compose herself she looked back up at Jane.

“Jane...”

Jane holds up a hand and stops her.

“No, I made a promise, I’m going to keep it. Let’s go, we have somewhere to be in forty minutes.��

Darcy gives her a hard stare then glances back down at the letter.

P.S. I love you

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“Where are we?” Darcy asks as the car draws up outside an imposing looking stone built.

Jane looks over and hands her another letter, silent smile fixed firmly in place as once again Darcy reaches for the paper.

“Don’t read it till you’re in there, I’ll wait here for you. You’ve got an hour.”

She stepped out and made her way up the steps and inside. The curator stood waiting for her.

“Welcome to the Grolier Club Ms Lewis. We have a private viewing room ready for you.”

Darcy looked around again, taking in the detail. How on earth had he managed this? She followed closely on the woman’s heels, and followed the special instruction for handling the documents and settled down. The woman left and Darcy brought out the letter Jane had handed her.

“Hey Doll-face,

I hope you’ll enjoy the surprise. You get a private viewing of Wallace’s Supreme Fiction, the original document. I can’t claim to understand or even like poetry the way you do, but I did a little reading. I think I understand what you were trying to say about it now.

Here’s the two parts that stuck me, touched me perhaps, gave me pause as I thought of you, of us, of what we are, together and apart. Of what I’ve done and who I’ve been, the fiction of the life that was taken and the fiction of the one forced on me.

And for what, except for you, do I feel love? Do I press the extremest book of the wisest man Close to me, hidden in me day and night? In the uncertain light of single, certain truth, Equal in living changingness to the light In which I meet you, in which we sit at rest, For a moment in the central of our being, The vivid transparence that you bring is peace

I know you’ll understand why this resonated, I took the idea of the life I could have had and built it into something it never could have been, I spent so long looking back at that pretty lie I sometimes didn’t see the truth in front of me. You were the only thing I’ve truly loved, the only one that brought me peace. You think you broke me Doll? You were the one who put me back together.

“Music falls on the silence like a sense,

A passion that we feel, not understand”

I’m an asshole. I didn’t spend the time I should have listening. Until you, there was only silence and darkness. You brought the music Doll and you brought the light. I should have told you then, when I still had the chance. You gave me back my soul, I thought it was gone forever, but it was just hurt, hiding in the darkness. You found me, and I never thanked you for that. So, thank you, for being bright and beautiful, for believing and pushing me even when I know I hurt you with my actions, when I pushed you away. You never let up, never gave up. I didn’t try to understand why, I should have. I was selfish where you were always giving. You deserve everything Doll, you deserve to be cherished and loved and safe. In my mind I see you dancing still, in the echoes of my memory, in the corner of my eye. Never stop Darcy, fill your life with music, fill it with love.

James.

P.S. I love you.

She fisted her hands in the material of her dress and let the tears fall on his letter, silently letting it all pour out. She should never have watched that movie with him, he could be such a soppy bastard. She spent the next hour reading over the work, thinking of Bucky and what he’d thought of it, now she knew he had read it. In a way it’s was like he was here with her. That was something precious and she held onto the feeling very, fucking, tightly.

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“Is there seriously more to this magical mystery tour? I feel like some pathetic thirty something in a Rom-com. You know I hate Rom-coms Jane. Where is this going?”

“Not where you’d expect.” she tells her, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Come, on we’re here.”

Darcy steps out, they’re somewhere in Brooklyn, it looks like an old warehouse, what on earth could there possibly be here?

“It’s part of an Art’s Program Tony funds. They get permission from the city to encourage expressive and creative arts through certain youth groups. The idea is that even the worst places in the city should have beauty brought back to them.”

Darcy follows Jane as they make their way over to the group of kids and few adults all milling about with tables set up full of massive stencils and paints and cans of spray paint.

Jane once more pulls a letter from her bag, then turns Darcy till she’s facing the brick wall and puts the letter in her hands.

“Here, you should read this first.”

Hi Sweetheart,

I hope you’re ready to have some fun. But before you do, look up….

She steps back on one leg and looks up and her eyes widen. The laughter that bubbles up escapes her completely. Up high near the top of the wall are three panels. They all depict the same two boys. In the first a young Bucky holds a tiny Steve Rogers in by the scruff of the neck, the latter kicking his legs, swiping at Bucky with his first. In the second is Bucky in his uniform saluting his friend, Steve, shoulders slumped left behind. The third panel is what’s killing her. Steve in all his star-spangled glory is running from the Germans, Bucky in his arms like a rescued princess, winking to the street.

Jane hands her a tissue as she finally manages to control her laughter, the tears wetting her cheeks in mirth rather than bittersweet sadness.

Steve wasn’t the only one who took art classes Sugar, I hope it made you smile, I know it did. I can hear you laughing from here. I promise, he hasn’t seen it yet, you can show him later, I bet he busts a rib when he does. Go make something beautiful Doll, bring something good out of something broken, I know you can do it. Be brave, take a chance. Go pick a can and paint. Remember that day in London? When we ended up in that museum? We spend five hours in that place, I’m pretty sure I thought we were never going to leave. But there was that one painting and you sat there for near an hour staring at it. Whatever it was that touched you then, let it touch you now. I’m right beside you Doll.

James,

P.S. I love you.

She tucks the letter into her bag with the other two and heads back over to Jane where she’s tentatively picking up different cans.

“You going to help Janie?”

“You bet I am, this actually looks like it might be fun.”

Darcy grins back and picks up a can, shaking it fast and lets the arts co-ordinator direct her to a piece of wall.

Jane stands beside her looking wary….

“Darcy? I don’t know if I like the way you’re staring at the wall.”

“Chill Jane, this going to be fun. You know I was actually pretty good at art in school. It’s been a while, but this isn’t my first-time tagging. It’s just, you know, legal this time.”

Darcy grins in anticipation. She knows exactly what she’s going to do. Using a length of card board, she starts her masterpiece. She had eight feet of wall to fill, who says there can’t be a garden in the jungle?

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Sitting over lunch in a tiny hole in the wall in Queens, she feels at peace and happier than she thought the day would be. Jane’s keeping the conversation going whenever Darcy faulters and stubbornly carries on till she joins back in again. The woman is a goddess, she doesn’t know what she’d do without her friend. It’s been a tough year, somehow, they’ve both held together through it. The sudden arrival of a violinist to play music that has her somewhat speechless until she hears and recognises the notes. It’s from Thais, the same Opera he took her to a little over a year ago. She looks at Jane with confusion, she pulls another damned letter from her bag and hands it to Darcy.

Afternoon Beautiful,

I hope lunch is going well and you’re listening to the music. I enjoyed that trip to Opera, I never told you how much. It was heart-breaking and beautiful. The story made me think. About life and death, love and loss. Made me think of what we leave behind when we go. It made me realise something about us. Or maybe more accurately about me. I never looked as deep as I should at you, at all the tiny facets that made you who you are, not in the beginning at any rate. You’re more than just a pretty face, more than a figure that can fill out a dress like a dream. You’re smart and passionate and good. You’re all the most beautiful things I never took the time to really see. All the beautiful things I took for granted. If I could live the moments over, I’d look harder, be a better man. You deserve better, you deserve the best. You deserve someone that sees the things you hide. I don’t know why you hide the best parts of yourself, but I can guess. It probably started with assholes like me, that never botherd to listen, to look at who you were. I think they found absolution in death, I’d really rather fuckin not. Think about it Doll. Really think about it. Stop believing that the paint on your lips and the value men give you means more than the value you ascribe yourself. You are my Thais, I’m just the poor schmuck that didn’t realise your value till it was too late.

James.

P.S. I love you.

“Why did he do this Jane?” Darcy asks as she fold up the letter, the final notes of the violin coming to a close. Jane looks torn.

“Honestly Darcy? I think Bucky Barnes will forever be a mystery. If anyone can figure out what all this means it has to be you, because I don‘t have clue and I know how this ends.”

“Alright then. What’s next?”

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Steve is waiting at the airport, standing on the tarmac by the jet, his smile only a little guilty looking.

Darcy looks at Jane questioningly.

“Sorry Darce but this time it’s Steve who’s got the letter. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“You mean it still won’t be over when I come back?”

“there’s at least one more thing on the list before the end. Don’t over think it Darcy, just give it a chance. What the worst that can happen?”

Darcy sighs and facepalms.

“Jane, I know we talked about this. We do not taunt Murphy, God of Anything that will go wrong, with fighting words like that. What’s the worst that can happen!”

She climbs out of the car and walks to where Steve waits for her.

“Hey.” She twists her fingers in her sleeves and waits to see what he has to say.

“Hey Darce, got a letter for you.”

“Well?” she says expectantly when no letter appears.

“It’s on the jet. You can read it once we’re in the air.”

“fine.”

She moves past him and up the steps, quickly finding a seat and settling in.

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When they finally take off, he hands her the letter and a thick manila file.

“Is this…” she breaks off, reluctant to take it.

“You don’t have to read the file. But he insisted you have the choice.”

She takes the letter, this time more apprehensive than before.

My Darling Girl,

You are my darling, my sweetheart, my sugar, my doll. All the pet names in the world can’t encompasses what you are to me. I call you by those names because there is so much that I find hard to say.

My darling. You are precious, more precious than gems and gold, than any treasure ever lost or found, you are my darling girl. Each tear I’ve cost would bankrupt the richest man for it is more valuable than a diamond. Each time I’ve caused you pain has cost me time I’ll never have again.

My Sweetheart. You are my heart, the whole of mine beats in time with yours. The sweetness you gave me I tainted with my own unhappiness, the sourness of resentment left to festered in my mind did more damage than actual words ever spoken.

My Sugar. You were the part of me that hoped and wanted. The sweetness of a different outcome, another future, I squandered it away.

My Doll. I wanted to care for you, protect you, treat you like a princess, I didn’t know how to tell you I saw your strength as well, knew it was greater than my own. But you let me hold you close, you kept me safe through nightmares waking and sleeping. Like a child, you were my doll, to ward off the loneliness I lived in, my friend and my companion, my equal in every way.

You threw it back at me once, rightfully, that when I told you that you couldn’t understand it was because I wouldn’t tell you, show you, explain. I should have handled that better. So, Steve’s gonna take you on a little trip for me. You want honest, this is it. My files from Hydra and in Bucharest my journals. Take as long or as short a time as you need.

James,

P.S. I love you.

Why had he done this? Why now? Why wait? He must have written these months ago. She carefully folds the paper, another confession of love and pain. Why couldn’t he have told her himself? Why like this?

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The jet is fast, but not so fast she doesn’t have time to read the file. She takes her time with it, reading each page with careful consideration. For years all she’s had was speculation. A patchwork of ideas she’s put together through restless nights, sleepwalking and nightmares. He’d always been an incomplete puzzle she was trying to fix. What was contained in the files was a part of that puzzle, not all of it, but a great deal. He had never wanted to talk about what happened to him. Not to her, not to anyone. She had done what she could to hold him together, some days it had felt like she was working with nothing more than brown paper and string.

It had never been a chore, being there for him, she never felt it as a burden, but he had convinced himself he was. To her it had been nothing more than a labour of love. She’d come to know exactly how she felt early on. How could she not love him? The letters he had sent today, a mixture of apology, memories of better times and a deep confession of love. He’d never said the words out loud, but she had known, she had. She’d understood it through his actions. The way he held her, the way he took her hand, the way he defended her, the way he touched her shoulder when he passed her. It was in the way he’d looked up at her smiling as he removed her heels in a beach on Cony Island. It was in the way he held her close in a darkened Opera house as two characters met their end. It was in the patience he held while she sat in front of a painting for an hour and half, waiting while she took it in. it was in everything he remembered about her and never forgot. She hadn’t needed the words, she’d just needed him. But he wasn’t here.

She closed the file and pulled her bag up onto her lap, rifling through till she found what she was looking for. The letter she’d found when she’d finally woken up from a five-week coma.

Darcy,

I’m leaving for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m not good, I’m a mess and I never tried to fix it. I let you take too much on yourself and I blamed you for things that weren’t on you. You were right, you always were. You don’t have to wait for me.

I’m sorry.

James.

She read it over, it was so different from the letters Jane had given her. She was almost afraid to hope that this was something more than a sweet apology meant to ease whatever guilt he felt, pay back what he thought he owed her.

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“Did you know he was born here?” Steve asks as they walk down a side street.

She jerks her head to look up at him. No, she hadn’t known. Another part of his past he hadn’t shared. She’d not sure why that piece of information stings more than the files she read on the plane.

Steve gives her sad smile.

“He was only a three when his parents took the boat to America. He grew up learning to get rid of the accent. Its how things were then. You wanted to fit in, cover up the past, shed the identity of who you were as an immigrant and embrace what it meant to be American.

They gave up their family name at Elis Island. Took an anglicised version and moved on. People didn’t talk about then, it’s probably something he never mentioned, not because he was hiding it, but because it was part of the life he lived before that was ingrained. He learned how to speak Romanian though, guess he never forgot cause he manged to blend in here without issue for nearly a year before Zemo framed him for the bombing.”

“Where are we going Steve?”

“He kept the apartment here, even after all the trouble. I don’t understand why, but he did.”

They stop outside an apartment building and Steve hands her the keys, telling her the flat number.

“You’re not coming up?” she asks hesitantly.

“No. I’ve been here before, once. He was pretty mad at me for looking in the journals he keeps here, I’m not comfortable going where I’m not invited. You’re not the only one that got a letter today Darcy.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should never have got in the middle of it… it was none of my business. Guess I just got so used to being… to having his back, I couldn’t see the bigger picture. I’m sorry, you know about…”

“Hey, no.” she cut him off, throwing both hands up, shaking her head. “No one’s perfect, not even Captain America. It wasn’t your fault. There’s no blame here Steve. Not from me.”

“You really do see the good in everyone don’t you?”

“It’s not so hard, it’s there if you look hard enough.”

“I’ll be down the street, there’s a café on the corner there.” He points, and she sees the awning a few hundred yards down the street. “Just come get me when you’re finished.”

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She lets herself into the apartment. It’s not what she was expecting. There had been a lot of re-modelling she thinks, it’s all clean and modern looking. Light tones of mint and cream on the walls, a brighter teal picking out the accents. It’s a calming space. On the table next to the small kitchenet is a letter. If course, there’s another letter. Next to it is a box.

She sits down and opens it.

Darcy,

This is the truth, what’s left of it at least. It’s all the broken pieces that I was trying to put back together. It’s what I hid from you, too afraid you’d see my weakness and leave. It’s the darkness I lived with, that I brought into your life with me but never let you look at even while I let it hurt you. I hope this answers the questions you had. I hope it brings some sort of closure for you for that chapter in your life.

Always,

James.

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It’s late when she finally leaves the apartment, her mind a swirling mess and yet she felt at peace. There was closure in it. A million, million, questions answered. She clutched one journal in her hand. The one he’d written after he left. She’d keep it forever, the things he wrote bringing a comfort she hadn’t known she needed.

By the time they land back in New York she’s exhausted, it’s been a long day, it’s nearing evening. The sun beginning to set.

Jane’s there waiting to take her back to the Tower.

Darcy’s thankful that Jane doesn’t press, just let’s her sit in the silence. Entering the apartment, she leaves her bag and keys by the door and Jane stops her.

“I’ve done what he asked. This is the last part. One more letter. I hope I didn’t make a mistake agreeing to do this for him.”

Darcy takes the letter with a smile.

“No, it was good. I’m glad you did. He’s been with me every step of today, that’s because of you Janie. Thank you.” They hug, laughing a little tearfully before parting.

The silence in the apartment had been the empty lonely kind since she’d returned from the hospital.

Something about today had changed that. It wasn’t empty anymore. The memories they had shared filled the space again and she sank into the couch, toeing off her shoes and pulling her feet under her. She sat for a while, not really wanting it to be over, before she finally opened the letter.

She creased her brow in consternation. There wasn’t a letter. There was a post card, a picturesque town on the front. They had been there once, a year ago. I tiny little town upstate. She had loved how quiet it was, the peace and solitude, the simple life she’d joked. But she’d seen the same longing in his eyes that she had. She turned it over, noting the key taped to the back and only a handful of words underneath a set of lyrics from a song that had played on the radio over and over.

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you But ain't nobody need you like I do I know that there's others that deserve you But my darling I am still in love with you

I left and never gave you a choice. I took it away from you. I hope you understand where this is going. This is me, giving it back.

James,

P.S. I love you.

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She pulls the car to stop outside the little house, the picket white fence freshly painted, flowers planted neatly in the yard. The porch rebuilt and painted. She takes a breath before she gets out of the car. Her heart has been beating like a drum the whole way here.

He’s sitting on the steps when she reaches the gate, his face filled with hope when he looks up and see’s her.

He looks so different. The long hair is gone, instead it’s cut cleanly, if a little too short, displaying the sharp relief of his cheekbones and jaw.

She can’t hold back the tears that break free or the shrill cry of his name as she crosses the yards separating them. Then he’s right there, in front of her, picking her up in his arms, gathering her close as she buries her face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him that she had missed so much.

“You came.” He whispers into her hair. He says the words like he can’t believe it.

“Of course I came, where else would I go? You’re the only future I ever wanted. Promise me this is forever?”

“I promise. I don’t want to spend another day without you, for the rest of my life, Doll.”

“Forever?” she prods again, not sure what she wants from him. But he answers, while pressing tiny kisses over her face.

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Forever?”

He takes her hand and presses something into her palm. The cool metal warms quickly, as gold is want to do, the gem twinkles in the porch light as she stares in disbelief.

“Bucky?”

“I’ll never be better, there’s too much that’s been broken and put back together, but… I’m better than I was. I’ve stopped running from it, stopped hiding. The me here now, the one asking you to take this chance? I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t all in Doll. You’re it for me, I was just too stupid to see it before. I don’t want to waste another day, not it you’re willing to take another chance on me. So, this is me asking, Darcy. Will you a take chance on this old soldier? Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me?”

She stands on her toes and kisses him hard.

“Yes, I will.”

@captain-rogers-beard

#love all the marvel ships #love all the marvel ships challenge #bucky/darcy #darcy/bucky #wintershock

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Lore Episode 26: Brought Back (Transcript) - 25th January 2016

tw: racism, colonialism, live burial, slavery

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

No one wants to die. If the human design was scheduled for a revision, that’s one of the features that would get an overhaul. Our mortality has been an obsession since the dawn of humanity itself – humans long for ways to avoid death, or at least make it bearable. Some cultures have practically moved heaven and earth doing so. Thousands of years ago, the Egyptians built enormous stone structures in order to house their dead and ensure them a place in the afterlife. They perfected the art of embalming so that even after death, their bodies might be ready for a new existence in a new place. Death is a reality for all of us, whether we like it or not. Young or old, rich or poor, healthy or sick, life is one long journey down a road, and we walk until its over. Some think they see the light at the end of it all while others hope for darkness, and that’s where the mystery of it all comes in: no one knows what’s on the other side. We just know that the proverbial walk ends at some point, and maybe that’s why we spend so much time guessing at it, building story and myth and belief around this thing we can’t put our finger on. What would be easier, some say, is if we just didn’t die, if we somehow went on forever. It’s impossible, but we dream of it anyway. No one returns from the grave… do they? Most sane, well-adjusted people would say no, but stories exist that say otherwise, and these stories aren’t new. They’ve been around for thousands of years and span multiple cultures, and like their subject matter these stories simply refuse to die. One reason for that, as hard as it is to believe, is because some of those stories appear to be true. Depending on where you look, and who you ask, there are whispers of those who beat the odds. Sometimes the journey doesn’t end after all. Sometimes, the dead really do walk. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The quintessential zombie movie, the one that all the commentators say was responsible for putting zombies on the map nearly 50 years ago, was George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. The creatures that Romero brought to the big screen managed to influence generations of film makers, giving us the iconic zombie that we see today in television shows like The Walking Dead. The trouble is, Romero never used the word “zombie” to describe the creatures from his landmark film. Instead, they were “ghouls”, a creature borrowed from Arabian folklore. According to the mythology, ghouls are demons who eat the dead and, because of that, are traditionally found in graveyards. But Romero’s ghouls were not the first undead creatures to hunger for the flesh and blood of the living. Some think that honour falls to the Odyssey, the epic Greek poem written by Homer nearly 3000 years ago. In the story, there’s a scene where Odysseus needs to get some information from a long-dead prophet named Tiresias. To give the spirit strength to speak, Odysseus feeds him blood. In a lot of ways, the creatures we think of today as zombies are similar to the European tales of the revenant. They’ve gone by many names – the ancient Irish called them Neamh-Mhairbh, meaning “the undead”; in Germany they are the Wiedergänger, “the ones who walk again”; and in Nordic mythology, they’re called the draugr. The name “revenant” itself is Latin and means “the returned”. The basic idea is pretty easy to guess from that – revenants were those who were once dead, but returned to haunt and terrorize their neighbours and family. It might sound like fantasy to our modern sensibilities, but some people really did think that this could happen.

Historians in the Middle Ages wrote about revenant activity as if it were fact. One man, William of Newburgh, wrote in 1190 that, and I quote, “It would not be easy to believe that the corpses of the dead should sally from their graves, and should wander about to the terror or destruction of the living, did not frequent examples, occurring in our own times, suffice to establish this fact, to the truth of which there is abundant testimony. Were I to write down all the instances of this kind which I have ascertained to have befallen in our times, the undertaking would be beyond measure, laborious, and troublesome”. Newburgh goes on to wonder why the ancient writers never mentioned events like these, but doesn’t seem to take that as proof that revenants are pure fantasy. They mentioned all sorts of boring things, mundane and unimportant, so why not the unnatural and unusual? He was, of course, wrong – the ancient Greeks did have certain beliefs surrounding the dead and their ability to return to haunt the living, but to them it was much more complicated, and each revenant came back with its own unique purpose. You see, the Greco-Roman culture believed that there was a gap between the date of someone’s actual death and their intended date of death. Remember, this was a culture that believed in the Moirai – the Fates – who had a plan for everyone. So, for example, a farmer might be destined to die in his 80s from natural causes, but he might instead die in an accident at the market or in his field. People who died early, according to the legends, were doomed to wander the land of the living as spirits until the day of their intended death arrived. Still with me? Good. So, what the Greeks believed was that it was possible to control those wandering spirits – all you needed to do was make a curse tablet, something written on clay or tin or even parchment, and then bury it in the person’s grave. Like a key in the ignition of a car, this tablet would empower someone to control the wandering dead. Now, it might sound like the world’s creepiest Martha Stewart how-to project, but to the Greeks magic like this was a powerful part of their belief system. The dead weren’t really gone, and because of that they could serve a purpose. Unfortunately, that’s not an attitude that was unique to the Greeks, and in the right culture, at the right time, under the right pressure, that idea can be devastating.

In Haiti, the vast majority of the people there are genetically connected to West Africa to some degree, up to 95% according to some studies. It’s a remnant of a darker time, when slavery was legal, and millions of Africans were pulled from their homes and transported across the Atlantic to work the sugar plantations that filled the Spanish coffers. We tend to imagine African slaves being shipped to the new world with no possessions beside the clothing on their backs, but they came with their beliefs, with their customs and traditions, and with centuries of folklore and superstition. They might not have carried luggage filled with precious heirlooms, but they held the most important pieces of their identity in their minds and hearts. No one can take that away. There are a few ideas that need to be understood about this transplanted culture. First, they believed that the soul and the body were connected, but also that death could be a moment of separation between the two. Not always, but it could be – I’ll explain more about that in a moment. Second, they lived with a hatred and fear of slavery. Slavery, of course, took away their freedom, it took away their power. They no longer had control over their lives, their dreams, or even their own bodies. Whether they liked it or not, they were doomed to endure horribly difficult labour for the rest of their lives; only death would break the chains and set them free. Third, that freedom wasn’t guaranteed. While most Africans dreamed of returning to their homeland in the afterlife, there were some who wanted to get there quicker. Suicide was common in colonial Haiti, but it was also frowned upon. In fact, it was believed that those who ended their own life wouldn’t be taken back to Africa at all. Instead, they would be punished. The penalty, it was said, was eternal imprisonment inside their own body, without control or power over themselves. It was, in a sense, just like their own life. To the slaves of Haiti, hell was just more slavery, but a slavery that went on forever. These bodies and trapped souls had a name in their culture: the zombie. It was first recorded in 1872, when a linguistic scholar recorded a zombie as, and I quote, “a phantom or ghost, not infrequently heard in the southern states in nurseries and among the servants”. The name, it turns out, has African roots as well. In the Congo they use the word nzambi, which means the spirit of a dead person. It’s related to two other words that both mean “god” and “fetish” – fetish in the sense of manufacturing a thing, a creature that has been made. The walking dead, at least according to Haitian lore, are real.

What did these zombie look like? Well, thanks to Zora Neale Hurston, we have a first-hand account. Hurston was an African American author, known for her novel Their Eyes Were Watching God, and regarded as one of the pillars of the Harlem Renaissance. And it was while researching folklore during a trip to Haiti in 1936 that she encountered one. In her book Tell my Horse, Hurston recounts what happened. “I had the rare opportunity to see and touch an authentic case”, she wrote. “I listened to the broken noises in its throat.... If I had not experienced all of this in the strong sunlight of a hospital yard, I might have come away from Haiti interested but doubtful. But I saw this case of Felicia Felix-Mentor which was vouched for by the highest authority. So I know that there are Zombies in Haiti. People have been called back from the dead. The sight was dreadful. That blank face with the dead eyes. The eyelids were white all around the eyes as if it had been burned with acid. There was nothing you could say to her or get from her except by looking at her, and the sight of this wreckage was too much to endure for long”. Wreckage. I can’t think of another word with as much beauty and horror as that, in the context. Something was happening in Haiti, and the result was wreckage, lives broken and torn apart by something – but what? The assumption might be that these people had all attempted suicide, but suicide is common in many cultures, not just in Haiti. When you dig deeper, though, it’s possible to uncover the truth, and in this case, the truth is much darker than we like to believe. Zombies, it turns out, can be created.

On the night of April 30th, 1962, a man walked into Albert Schweitzer Hospital in Haiti. He was sick and complained of body aches, a fever and, most recently, coughing fits that brought blood up from his lungs. Naturally, the medical staff were concerned, and they admitted him for tests and treatment. This man, Clairvius Narcisse, was seen by a number of medical doctors but his condition quickly deteriorated. One of his sisters, Angelina, was there at his bedside, and according to her his lips turned blue and he complained to her about a tingling sensation all over his body. But despite the hospital’s best efforts, Narcisse died the next day. Two doctors, one American and one American-trained, each confirmed his death. The man’s sister, Angelina, signed the death certificate after confirming the man’s identity. Because she couldn’t read or write, she did so by pressing her thumbprint onto the paper, and then his family began the painful process of burying their loved one and trying to move on. Death, as always, is a part of life; never a pleasant one, but a part nonetheless. Over 18 years later, in 1981, Angelina Narcisse was walking through the market in her village, something she did nearly every day. She knew the faces of each vendor, she knew the scents and the sounds that filled the space there, but when she looked down the dirt road toward the small crowd of people something frightened her, and she screamed. There, walking toward her, was her brother Clairvius. He was, of course, older now, but it was him. She would have recognised him anywhere, and when he finally approached her and named himself with a childhood nickname, any doubt she might have had melted away. What followed was a whirlwind of revelations as Clairvius told his sister what had happened to him, and it all started, he said, in the hospital room. According to him, his last moments in the bed there were dark, but fully aware. He could no longer see anyone, and he couldn’t move, but he remembered hearing the doctor pronounce him dead. He remembered the sound of his sister weeping. He even remembered the rough, cotton sheet being pulled up and over his face. But awareness continued on to his funeral, where he claimed to hear the procession. He even pointed to a scar on his face – he claimed that it was the result of one of the coffin nails cutting him. Later, the family brought in a psychiatrist, who performed a series of tests on Clairvius to see is he was a fraud, but the man passed with flying colours, answering questions that no one but Clairvius himself could have known. In an addition, over 200 friends and family members vouched for the man’s identity. This, all of them confirmed, was Clairvius Narcisse.

So, what happened to him? According to Clairvius himself, he was poisoned by his brother over a property dispute. How? He wasn’t sure, but shortly after his burial, a group of men dug up his coffin and pulled him free. That’s a thought worth locking away deep in the back of your brain, by the way: trapped inside a coffin beneath the earth, blind and paralysed, cold and scared. It’s a wonder the man didn’t go insane. The men who dug him up were led by a priest called a Bokor. The men chained Clairvius and then guided him away to a sugar plantation, where he was forced to work alongside others in a similar state of helplessness. Daily doses of a mysterious drug kept them all unable to resist or leave. According to his story, he managed to escape two years later, but fearing what his brother might do to him if he were to show up alive, he avoided returning home. It was only the news of his brother’s death many years later that coaxed him out of hiding. The story of Clairvius Narcisse has perplexed scientists and historians for decades. In the 1980s, Harvard sent an ethno-botanist named Wade Davis to investigate the mysterious drug, and the result of his trip was a book called The Serpent and the Rainbow, which would go on to be a New York Times bestseller as well as a Hollywood movie, but few agree on the conclusions. Samples of the drug that Wade collected have all been disproven, no illegal sugar plantations staffed by zombie slaves has ever been discovered, and the doctors have been accused of misreading the symptoms and prematurely declaring the man dead – there are so many doubts. To the people closest to him, though, the facts are solid. Clairvius Narcisse died, his family watched his burial in the cemetery, he was mourned and missed, and 18 years later he came back into their lives. The walking dead: medical mishap or the result of Haitian black magic? We may never know for sure.

Stories of the walking dead are everywhere these days. It’s as if we’ve traded in our obsession with extending our life and resigned to the fact that normal death, the kind where we die and stay dead, might be better. We fear death because it means the loss of control, the loss of purpose and freedom. Death, in the eyes of many people, robs us of our identity and replaces it with finality. It’s understandable, then, how slavery can be viewed through that same lens. It removes a person’s ability to make decisions for themselves – it turns them, in a sense, into nothing more than a machine for the benefit of another person. But what if there really are individuals out there, the Bokor and evil priests, who have discovered a way to manufacture their own walking dead, who have perfected the art of enslaving a man or women deeper than any slave owner might have managed before, to rob them of their very soul and bind them to an afterlife of tireless, ceaseless labour? In February of 1976, Francine Illeus was admitted to her local hospital in Haiti. She said she felt weak and light-headed. Her digestive system was failing, and her stomach ached. The doctors there treated her and then released her. Several days later, she passed away and was buried in the local graveyard. She had only been 30 years old. Three years later, Francine’s mother received a call from a friend a few miles away. She needed her to come to the local marketplace there, and said it was urgent. Francine’s mother didn’t know what the trouble was, but she made the journey as quickly as she could. Once there, she was told that a woman had been found in the market. She was emaciated, catatonic, and refused to move from where she was squatting in the corner, head down, hands laced over her face. The woman, it turned out, was Francine Illeus. Her mother brought her home and tried to help her, but Francine seemed to be gone. She was there in body, but there was very little spirit left. Subsequent doctors and psychiatrists have spent time with Francine, but with very little progress to show for it. On a whim, Francine’s mother had the coffin exhumed. She had to see for herself if this woman, little more than a walking corpse, truly was her daughter. Yes, the woman had the same scar on her forehead that her daughter had, yes, they looked alike, yes, others recognised her as Francine, but she needed to know for sure. When the men pulled the coffin out of the earth, it was heavy, too heavy, they murmured, to be empty. More doubtful by the minute, Francine’s mother asked them to open it, and when the last nail had been pulled free from the wood, the lid was lifted and cast aside. The coffin wasn’t empty after all – it was full of rocks.

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