#I listened to the Gate of Time for the boys' return to Wars and Time waking up and it made me emotional
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Quest for a Cure (LU in Healthcare War Era)
Sicktember prompt 2 is here! :D @hermitdrabbles56 @socialc1imb I know you wanted to see this plot. :)
(AO3 link)
His entire body hurt so much. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever been in, but by heaven it was unpleasant. What was more alarming, though, was the distinct sense of dread that was steadily building in his stomach, a knowledge of oncoming darkness that couldn’t be pierced, a strange peace and anxiety fighting for control as something so unquestionably inevitable slowly edged ever closer.
Time swallowed thickly, trying to open his eyes. By all things holy, I certainly am being dramatic this evening.
Yes. Yes, he was just being dramatic. That’s what the logical side of his brain was saying, at least. The side that was desperately trying to maintain control as it slipped through his fingers. The rest of his mind was registering how utterly weak he was, how he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in at least two days (from what he could reckon), how someone was at his side constantly, how this virus had hit others and was more than capable of snuffing out its victims.
The darkness was pierced with light, dim and flickering—he really needed to change that lightbulb, didn’t he?—and he saw three silhouettes over him.
Saria? Sheik? No, none of the figures matched their physiques. The blurred edges of those over him started to clear, just enough for him to see familiar faces.
His Lost Boys.
Warriors, Sky, and Wind were watching him with varying expressions of concern. Wind’s eyes were wide and worried, fear evident in his constricted brow. Sky was more distant, anxiety held at bay by sheer force of will but still clearly showing through his expressive face, however muted he tried to make it. Warriors just looked exhausted, a dread shrouding him and making him look far older than he actually was.
Time tried to smile, but he knew it looked as strained as it felt. “What’s with the long faces?”
“You’re definitely not going to work today, old man,” Warriors said with a carefully light tone. “I see the night didn’t treat you well.”
“Are you feeling any better than before? You look awful,” Wind asked, his voice trembling.
Time swallowed thickly. He’d physically been through worse, he knew, but…
He was a trauma surgeon. He fixed things. A laceration was simple, an illness…
Damn it all. There was a reason he didn’t go into internal medicine. He hated how helpless he felt. He hated how scared his boys looked. He hated how he knew in his bones that this was not going to be an easy illness to overcome… assuming he would even overcome it.
“I’ll be up and about soon, Nugget,” Time answered to reassure them, even if he was lying through his teeth. Wind brown uncurled a hair, the tension in his face releasing for a moment, and Time thought he’d almost succeeded. Sky and Warriors, on the other hand, had hardly changed their expressions.
“Please try to rest,” Sky said so softly that Time almost missed it entirely.
Time watched the boy and stretched a trembling hand out to take his. Sky slowly took it. His hand felt so warm in Time’s frozen grip that it brought a little sigh of relief through the surgeon’s lips.
He wanted to say something, anything. Some anxious thought in the back of his mind said this might be his last chance to do so. He really didn’t appreciate the sentiment behind that, but…
If it was his time, then it was his time, he supposed. His gaze passed theirs, up to the ceiling. You have lousy timing, you know. Why would you take me away now, when I have children to look after? To finally find companionship and family, to finally find a purpose once more, to finally feel as if I belong, only to be ripped away and leave them bereft… what a terrible fate.
Despite his ire at the situation, despite his worry for his boys, Time felt his eyes closing once more, and the darkness consumed him.
As the surgeon’s eyes closed and he let out a shaky breath, the three others in the room tensed once more. Sky hated feeling how limp Time’s hold was on his hand, and he stepped away, hugging himself as Wind slid in to replace him. He took a fortifying, slow breath, leaning against the doorway while Warriors took the washcloth from Time’s forehead and dipped it in a bowl of ice water.
“So is he feeling better…?” Wind questioned hesitantly, suddenly not so sure of Time’s reassurance.
“No,” Warriors answered curtly, and Sky winced. The nurse was clearly not pleased with what he was seeing, and it made Sky worry even more.
“You think it’s going to get that bad?” Sky asked hesitantly, his voice quiet.
Warriors sighed as he wrung the cloth out. “I don’t know. I’ve seen it sweeping through barracks, though. It hits everyone to varying degrees. Some people just feel run down and bedridden, and others…”
The rest of his sentence hung heavily in the air.
Wind burst out, “But you guys are medical people! There’s a hospital right here!”
“It’s a field hospital, kiddo,” Warriors clarified as he wiped the sweat off Time’s brow once more. “We stabilize, do emergency surgeries, and then ship them somewhere more equipped to handle a long-term stay and recovery. Besides, the medicine to treat this virus is expensive, they’re not going to ship it out here unless it’s taking out the troops in droves, and it isn’t. Time wouldn’t be staying here, and his illness isn’t something we have medicine for. Either he’s going to get through it or someone will fly him out of here.”
Sky shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t usually fly people from the field hospital to the fully equipped military hospital in the Gerudo capital. He hadn’t seen a piece of land that wasn’t involved in the conflict since he’d finished basic training. The capital was very much in a safe location and therefore not his priority. Time would be protected there, but…
“We’d never see him again! What if they transfer him from there or something?!” Wind exclaimed.
“You don’t know that—” Warriors tried to reassure, but now the teenager was frantic.
“No! This is stupid, why does everyone have to keep leaving—” Wind growled, turning towards the door, and then he stopped with a heavy sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry. I know you’re dealing with a lot.”
“It’s okay, Sailor,” Warriors replied with a kind smile, though Wind didn’t see it.
Sky looked between the pair, and then his eyes settled on Time’s pale face, already drenched once again in sweat. He wasn’t winning this fight and Sky knew it. Thoughts clouded his mind so much he couldn’t put words to them or string a coherent sentence together. He settled for putting a gentle, reassuring hand on Wind’s shoulder.
Then sudden clarity struck him. His lips pressed firmly against each other, and his fingers curled into Wind’s shoulder, catching the teenager’s attention. Sky motioned towards the hallway with his head.
“We’ll be back later,” Sky said to Warriors, who gave a simple nod.
When the door to Time’s room closed, Wind said, “I know I shouldn’t have yelled. Can we do something to help them, though? I can bring Wars food or something.”
“I have a better idea,” Sky said, a smile starting to pull at his lips. “This virus is pretty common to this area. Which means somebody has to have medicine for it closer than the capital. I think the nearest enemy camp in the town ought to be a good place to start.”
Wind gasped, immediately catching on to what Sky was implying. “Hell yeah! I know all the ways to get in there too!”
Sky smiled as the boy’s face practically glowed. There were likely a hundred rules Sky was breaking in even suggesting this, but he didn’t care. Time was seriously ill, and Sky knew the enemy had to have medicine for such a thing. Sure, the local village might not have it, nor would their military base, but many of the enemies they were fighting here were locals, and they had been dealing with this for ages. He also knew from flybys where their nearby camp was – the nearest one, at least, and the one that was based in a town, which meant it likely had the medicine.
And he had a kid who knew how to sneak in and out of said encampment.
It was time to help their friend.
Sky guided Wind to his own quarters. His roommate thankfully was out, which gave him the opportunity to plan things out somewhere as private as possible. He quickly pulled out desert camouflage attire, putting it on and glancing at Wind, who waved him off.
“I’m small, I sneak in and out of there without it all the time,” the kid reassured him with a smile. His easy confidence both amused Sky and made him uneasy. For a moment he realized the gravity of what he was asking of a fourteen-year-old. Time’s pain-stricken face floated into his mind, though, and his anxieties over losing him overruled the concern. Besides, Wind had said it himself – he’d snuck in and out plenty of times. It wasn’t fair to ask this of the kid, but Sky did have to wonder how well they’d fare if the army utilized Wind to take the enemy base down entirely.
That was a matter for another day. Sky couldn’t eliminate an entire enemy base, but he could sneak into one.
But just in case, he packed two pistols and his semi-automatic gun. Just in case. And maybe a sniper rifle.
Wind did, under mild protest, get a camouflage jacket from Sky, both for the elder teenager’s sanity and because the desert was frigid at night.
The pair snuck by the guards rather easily—unnervingly easy, Sky would have to bring this up later—and began their long trek through the desert.
“How long does it usually take to get to the town?” Sky asked before adding out of curiosity, “And why do you sneak in there so much? You know they can kill you, right?”
“It’s like an hour walk from here with the route I take,” Wind answered. At Sky’s alarmed expression, he added, “It’s not a route that vehicles can drive. We’re gonna be climbing. A lot. Hope you can hold on to all your guns.”
“Speaking of which,” Sky said, holding out a pistol and a machete. “Do not use these unless you absolutely have to. Got it?”
Wind reached out hesitantly. Sky quickly asked, “You do know how to shoot, right?”
Wind gave him bewildered, somewhat exasperated look. “Why the hell would I know how to shoot?”
Great. Maybe just the machete, then. “I don’t know, you’ve been wandering a war zone for so long now I figured you had something up your sleeve to defend yourself.”
“I do!” Wind replied excitedly, pulling out a boomerang. “This baby’s helped me out in tough times!”
“Huh.” Sky gazed at the boomerang curiously. “That’s different.”
“It works!”
Sky shrugged. Whatever worked, he supposed.
The adolescent pair continued into the desert night, a chilly wind trying to tear through them. Wind’s path quickly went off the main road, and Sky did indeed find himself climbing nearly sheer cliffs, gripping whatever flora had managed to creep along its walls. He started sweating quickly, feeling his stamin fall, but they managed to reach the top before his grip gave out. Their journey was mostly spent in silence aside from Wind giving pointers on footing, giving Sky plenty of time to formulate different plans.
This medicine had to be in a clinic or hospital. Which meant they’d have to get to that point. Then they’d have to figure out how to sneak into such a facility. It was a good thing he had thought to swipe a few items that Wars had left lying around.
Wind held up his hand suddenly, making Sky freeze. Then the kid cackled, pulling out his phone. “Gotta do the obligatory pre-break-in selfie.”
“Wind!” Sky hissed. “I could get court martialed for this, no pictures!”
“Oh come on!” Wind argued. “I’m not dumb, I don’t share this stuff! These pictures are to show my grandma and sister when I find them, that’s all.”
Sky sighed heavily. To hell with it. Pulling down the black mask that was covering his face he gave a strained smile as Wind winked at the camera with a peace sign.
The edge of the town was surrounded by stone walls. The only entrance in and out was flanked with multiple armed guards. Sky looked at Wind hesitantly, and the kid had the audacity to smirk. Sky was almost proud of him.
Wind moved towards the alpha side of the town wall, pointing to a spot that seemed darker than the rest of the surrounding area. “A lot of places here have old leftovers from way back when. This town’s got old sewage system that they don’t really use, it’s kind of more just runoff for… I don’t know, I guess they get rain sometimes. Either way, we can get in that way because they don’t really use it anymore.”
“And nobody’s guarding it?” Sky asked curiously.
“There’s, like, one guy. And he’s so freaking bored. He plays games on his phone.”
Sky snorted out a laugh and then followed his friend. The pathway was a little muddy, implying that something usually ran through here. It didn’t have a terrible odor to it, though it wasn’t great. Sky clutched his gun tightly as Wind peered around a corner and motioned for him to follow. The mud squelched too loudly for his liking, and with as on edge as he was feeling…
These people wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them. He’d seen what they were capable of. They’d shot down a medical helicopter for heaven’s sake. Still, if Wind had managed to sneak in and out…
Wind pointed silently, and Sky saw the guard in question. He squinted, staring at the man’s phone. Was that Angry Birds?
Slowly, Sky put his gun away, letting it rest on his back, and the pair scooted forward. The man sat close to the entrance, but not directly beside it. If he stayed engrossed in his game, they might actually have a chance. Wind snuck out first, quick and silent. Sky followed suit, feeling his stomach clench so tightly he thought he could throw up, but neither caught the guard’s attention.
Great. Great. They were in the city. Sky let out a subtle laugh, shaking the jitters off as they slipped into an alley. Now all they had to do was find a clinic or hospital or—
Oh, that giant building with the medical symbol ought to do nicely.
“What are you usually doing when you sneak in here?” Sky asked, suddenly curious.
Wind shrugged. “Looking for my sister and grandma. But they don’t really have refugee locations or prisoners here or anything.”
Sky felt his heart hurt. This kid was so determined to find his family. It was no wonder he was desperate not to lose anyone else.
“They’ve got curfews and stuff here,” Wind noted. “Since they turned the whole place into a base and all.”
There went Sky’s next thought to just blend in with the civilians. He supposed they would have to sneak around everywhere, then.
Maneuvering to get to the hospital wasn’t too terrible – the majority of the guards were posted along the walls rather than through the streets. The hospital was a fairly small one, but still more of an official medical institution than the field hospital Sky flew people to. He grabbed Wind by the shoulder and motioned to a bag he’d brought along.
“What’s that?” Wind asked hesitantly.
Reaching in, Sky pulled out a pair of scrubs and smiled mischievously.
Wind’s eyes brightened. “We’re posing as nurses!”
“I am,” Sky corrected. “You won’t fit in Wars’ clothes.”
“How did you get his scrubs?”
“Lost a bet. He wanted me to do his laundry as punishment.”
“…Did you clean them first?”
Sky tilted his head with a sheepish smile. “Well… point is, I have scrubs.”
Wind raised a cautious eyebrow. “So then what about me…?”
Sky’s smile grew more devious.
Ten minutes later, a security guard was knocked unconscious and dragged away, tied and gagged (with a bonus unconscious selfie with Wind winking and Sky looking mildly exasperated), and a wheelchair was acquired as a nurse wheeled his pediatric patient into the hospital.
“Okay, so we need to find the pharmacy,” Wind whispered. “That’s where the medicine would be, right?”
“We need to know what the medicine is first,” Sky replied quietly. “The only way to do that is for you to have that virus.”
Wind gave a quick huh? And then gasped with an oh! And proceeded to start fake coughing so hard the veins in his neck bulged.
“Easy, sailor,” Sky said worriedly, but Wind waved him off. When they stopped at the emergency department doors, Sky got himself together and waved sheepishly at the triage tech. “Forgot my badge, sorry. Mind letting me in?”
The triage tech rolled her eyes good naturedly and walked over. “You’re on the struggle bus tonight, buddy.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sky replied with a chuckle as he wheeled Wind in.
“So uh, what’s this virus called anyway?” Wind whispered as Sky found an empty room to put him in.
“I know the colloquial term is Sand Fever,” Sky said, pausing. “But I don’t know its actual name. I’m hoping that’s enough, though.”
If there was one thing Sky knew he could rely on, it was the chaos in the emergency department. He went to registration and put on a show how there was no paperwork for this new patient and gave her false information for a face sheet. She noted that he hadn’t been triaged, according to the paperwork, and Sky said he had, actually, he was in bad enough shape that they were going to get the info once they brought him back, which wasn’t unheard of for critical patients.
So one false paperwork bracelet later, Sky and Wind found themselves awaiting a physician’s examination for the presumed serious case of Sand Fever. Wind really played it up as much as he could, and it certainly worked well enough that the physician was willing to do a test for the virus. As soon as she left, Sky asked Wind, “How did you fake wheezing? Like this whole thing definitely has my heart rate and blood pressure up, but I can’t fake wheezing.”
Wind huffed, almost proudly, but then he wilted a little uncertainly. “I… don’t know. I tried hard, though.”
Sky’s confidence in the situation faltered a moment, quivering like a freshly hatched chick. Wait…
Dread filled him, and he slowly walked out of the room. He wandered the emergency department to get a lay of the land and distract himself, keeping close enough that he could rush to Wind’s room if anyone suspected anything. He felt incredibly exposed all of a sudden.
After maybe his third lap around the unit, the physician from earlier stopped him. “I put in orders for the Velkisen. Give him an initial dose and then I’ll write a script for pharmacy to fill.”
Sky blinked. What? “Uh, yeah. Okay.”
He repeated the name over and over. Velkisen. Velkisen.
Wait. Was that… was that the antiviral medication? Was… did that mean…?
“Shit,” Sky swore, going back to Wind’s room.
Wind perked up immediately, having been anxiously fiddling with the blanket provided to him. He also immediately could read Sky’s expression and knew something was wrong. “What is it?”
“You’ve got Sand Fever,” Sky said.
Wind blinked. Then he said, “Wow. Okay. That makes sense for the wheezing and achiness.”
“You’re achy and didn’t say anything?!”
Wind stood, crossing his arms defensively. “What differnce does it make? It doesn’t affect everyone the same, clearly I’m not as bad off! So what if I got it from Time! He needs the medicine.”
Sky groaned. “Well, we’re in luck because—”
A script! They were going to get a script!! All Sky had to do was fudge the amount of pills they would need, he could double or trip it, and they could get out of here with everything they needed from the hospital pharmacy!
…Assuming the pharmacist didn’t question it.
And he needed to get the initial dose apparently.
Sky advised Wind to wait and turned quickly, asking another nurse to let him into the medication room because of his supposedly forgotten badge. That wouldn’t get him into the actual dispenser, though, and he knew that. He had to figure out something.
Wait. He knew a trick he’d seen Warriors done a few times to override for medication. All it took was swiping some aspirin out of someone’s bag. Then he poked another nurse. “Hey, I need to return this medication, but it’s not popping up for me. Do you mind checking for me?”
The nurse shrugged and popped in easily enough, and Sky once again felt guilty at how he was abusing the camaraderie that emergency personnel showed each other.
The nurse logged into the dispenser and asked, “What’s the med called?”
“Vil—Vilkon—Vel—”
“Velkisen?”
“Yes! That’s the one.”
The nurse tossed him a look with a smirk. “Long night?”
Sky laughed nervously. “Yeah. I keep tripping over my words.”
“What’s the patient’s name?”
“Last name is Tingle.”
“Looks like it hasn’t even been dispensed.”
Sky made a humming sound and gently pushed by the nurse to look at the screen. “Weird. Well, I guess I’ll just pull it again, then.”
He tapped the medicine name with his finger, and a drawer popped open. When a compartment opened inside, awaiting his removal of the medication inside, he hesitated.
This was an intravenous medicine. He could immediately tell from the vial. There was no way he was administering this to Wind, even if the boy needed it. He grabbed it nonetheless – hopefully it could help Time. The script ought to provide more anyway. With a nod to the other nurse, he quickly made his way back to Wind, who was just finishing a conversation with the doctor.
“How old did you tell them I was, anyway? She hasn’t once asked about a parent,” Wind noted as Sky hastily slid the door closed.
“Eighteen,” Sky answered easily before pulling out the medicine. “Did you get the script?”
Wind waved the paper triumphantly. “I sure did! Tripled the dose, too. Now we just wait until I get discharged?”
“No,” Sky immediately said. “Too much paperwork, too many questions, too easy for people to figure out something’s off. Let’s head for the pharmacy now.”
“That means we have to sneak by the nurses too.”
“Yeah.”
“Sweet! Best night ever! We’re like spies!”
Sky sighed heavily, feeling exhausted. They were going to be dead spies if they weren’t careful. “Let’s go.”
Wind snapped one more selfie, showing his hospital wristband, and then nearly skipped over in delight. The pair tried to look as innocuous as possible as they casually slipped out of the room and into a hallway before following a transporter through locked doors and peeling off to head towards the signs indicating pharmacy.
It was honestly unnerving how easy it was, even if Sky felt like he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. He was going to ask Wind how the kid was so excited, but the more he watched him, the more he saw the nervous ticks, the way the younger one’s hands were shaking, the way his eyes were constantly on alert. Wind was just as scared as he was, but he expressed it through excited jitters.
The pharmacy tech filled the prescription after an agonizing few minutes, and before they knew it, they were slinking through the basement of the hospital with pockets full of pills.
“I hope this is enough,” Sky muttered as they found their tied up security guard. The man was wiggling now, trying to yell over the gag Sky had secured over his mouth. Sky grabbed his bag of supplies, changing out of his scrubs and back into his uniform as Wind threw the spare camouflage jacket back on and ripped off his hospital bracelet, pocketing it. Then Sky grabbed the butt of the gunstock and slammed it into the man’s temple, knocking him out once more. He then untied the guard so he could awaken and get actual help when they’d left.
But he should have known. This mission had been all too easy. Something had to go wrong.
It was blissfully late in the game. They had gotten back to the Angry Birds guard, who had now taken position directly in front of the entrance to their escape route. The pair came up with a plan quickly, and Sky waltzed up to the guard.
“Nice score,” he commented with a smile, and the guard jumped, registered the sight in front of him, and promptly got clocked on the head by a boomerang that he’d missed due to Sky’s distraction. A solid punch to the face did the rest of the work.
Unfortunately, it was time for the soldier to check in based on the radio traffic. Sky grabbed his gun, hissing for Wind to run ahead, and the pair tore into the tunnel. By the time they’d reached the other side, alarms were blaring.
“Head for the cliffs!” Sky yelled. If they could clear them they’d at lease be out of sight.
Instead, a spotlight shone right on them. Wind yelled, running faster. Sky whirled, firing his rifle at the light source, blinking rapidly to see his target. A few blind shots in the general direction eliminated the spotlight, but it also gave away their position just as well.
“Climb! Now!!” he ordered, slipping behind a boulder to give cover fire.
Wind scrambled up the rocks, flinching as gunfire peppered the area around him, though it primarily honed in on Sky’s general location. Sky fired off rapidly, praying he hit at least a few targets or warded them away long enough.
“I’m over!” Wind called. “Come on!”
“I’ll follow you, just go!!”
“Sky—”
“GO!”
Any argument Wind might have had was covered by the wound of bullets slamming into stone, sending dust and tiny, sharp rocks flying. Sky prayed the kid listened. You have the medicine, Wind. Save Time and yourself.
The distinct sound of a gave opening caught his attention, as well as motors. Sky turned his head and saw two motorcyclists tearing out of the main entrance to the town. They wouldn’t be able to get to Wind in the higher terrain, but they could chase him down until he reached the end of the cliffs. Taking a steadying breath, he peered out from his shelter and fired, managing to pick one rider off, leaving their bike spinning out of control.
Their bike.
Sky held his breath and ran. Bullets sprayed the ground around him, creating a trail as the gunner tried to keep up with his steps. Sky nearly slammed into the bike, throwing a leg over and gunning it with all his might.
Drawing close to the cliffs, he screamed out Wind’s name. After the third attempt, he saw the blonde head poking over some stone, the only thing visible about him. Wind immediately perked up, but then he pointed and shouted in warning. Sky turned and saw the other cyclist approaching, gun in hand.
Pulling out one of the pistols he had tucked into his side, Sky fired once, twice, thrice, and the soldier fell. He moved towards the cliff again. “JUMP!”
Wind ran alongside him and leapt without hesitation, arms and legs splayed out wide. Sky reached out for him, managing to catch the falling teenager and helping him climb onto the bike between the pilot and the handles.
“Hold on tight!” He instructed as they tore into the night. Wind kept a continuous lookout, and Sky’s head turned so much it might as well have been on a swivel, but they had gotten enough of a lead to outmaneuver anyone on foot, and Wind started pointing out trails off the main road before any other vehicles could exit the base.
Sky revved the engine again, watching as they accelerated to speeds in the triple digits, and Wind laughed almost as loudly as his namesake that was whipping through their hair. The farther they got from the town, the more infectious the laughter became, and eventually Sky himself was whooping and screaming in delight.
We made it.
XXX
The room felt so quiet. So empty. So cold.
Warriors slumped in his seat, alone with his thoughts. Time had long since fallen asleep, breathing disturbingly shallow. It was high time he take him to the hospital. It was high time he get transported somewhere that could better handle this, assuming it wasn’t too late already.
It was silly, really, to assume such a thing. Time had only been sick a couple days. It had just slammed him all at once. He hadn’t become altered to such a degree until tonight. Some part of Warriors’ brain insisted on taking care of him here, in the barracks, as if telling himself the situation as fine would actually make it so.
But he’d waited long enough. He wasn’t going to risk Time’s life over his desperate attempt to placate his mind. Time would go to the hospital in the capital and be treated and he would be fine. Never mind how quickly he was deteriorating. He would be fine.
He fell apart in forty-eight hours. Will he last the flight? Will they even think it’s worth flying him? Will they risk a pilot, a flight crew, a helicopter to transport someone who might already be too far gone?
Is this my fault for not taking him to the hospital sooner?
Warriors was usually better than this. He could figure out when a situation was going south, he could distance his emotions from the situation. This should be no different.
Except it was different. Because he’d already lost others, and just the mere thought of Time leaving sent him spiraling.
Impa. Lana. Oh fuck, Lana.
Warriors blinked tears away, tried to regulate his breathing. It was time to get moving. He tried not to look at Time, tried to think he was just taking a patient, grabbed his radio to call for an ambulance, when the door to the room slammed open with such intensity it nearly took it off its hinges.
Shooting to his feet, Warriors stumbled and knocked over the chair he’d been sitting on, taking in the sight before him. Sky and Wind were in front of him, breathless, excited, covered in sand and sweat and—was that a smear of blood?! They were wearing camouflage, and Sky was sporting multiple weapons in different holsters.
Warrior felt his body grow cold. “What. Did. You. Do.”
The pair immediately dug into their pockets, hands emerging bearing pill bottles and a vial. Their eyes shone with hope, twinkling brightly like stars in their filthy faces. “We got medicine.”
The nurse’s brain immediately put the pieces together, and his body found itself in a strange, bewildering, clashing state of relief and horror. “You stupid bastards.”
Their laughter at his words was not appreciated.
“You could’ve gotten yourselves killed!”
“Medicine!” Sky barked as if issuing an order, interrupting Warriors tirade.
The nurse snatched the medication, still glaring at the pair. “We’re not done here, you hear me?”
He tore into his drawer to grab a syringe, a flush, and alcohol swabs. The medication, according to a quick internet search, was given IM, which simplified things. He was still taking Time to the hospital, though. But injection first. Dosage check first. Reconfirm the route first.
Time didn’t flinch as Warriors gave the shot. Sky was already on the radio calling an ambulance. Wind was smiling in the corner, looking like a triumphant little imp.
They were imps. Warriors was going to have a freaking heart attack. The lecture he had in store for them would certainly be enough to make them think twice before doing anything like this ever again.
Good Lord. If Time’s illness doesn’t kill me, these two surely will.
XXX
Waking up really shouldn’t have been this hard.
For whatever reason, Time was distinctly uncomfortable. The bed was too hard, blankets too warm, skin too itchy, joints too sore. As he fluttered his eyes open, he swallowed and coughed at the dry sensation at the back of his throat.
What had…? Where was…?
Wait.
Sitting up, Time felt the room spin a hair, paused, and then resumed what he was doing.
“Easy, old man.”
Warriors. That was Warriors.
Glancing to his left, Time saw the army nurse watching him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Warriors gave a small, relieved smile, and it temporarily hid the dark circles under his eyes.
“You’re okay!” Came from his other side, and immediately Time felt Sky’s hand on his other shoulder as the teenager helped guide him back to his pillow.
“I’m… okay,” Time affirmed, actually feeling like it could potentially be true. He felt… not great, but also not the way he had before. The growing dread, the bone-weary exhaustion, the haziness… they were all gone.
He marveled at it a moment. Couldn’t quite believe it himself. He’d been so sure that…
Well. He supposed even surgeons could be wrong.
“Time!”
Wind practically leapt onto the bed, held in check by the other two, but not even Warriors and Sky could stop him when Time held out his arms invitingly. Wind tore into his embrace, practically flattening him into the bed as Time chuckled, relief flooding his body.
“It’s good to see you boys,” he whispered, tears leaking out of his eyes and disappearing into Wind’s hair.
#hahahaha I totally fudged my way through this#it's been so long since I've done war era stuff#or finished any healthcare snippet LOL#I milked every loophole I could in sneaking into a hospital#their guardian angels were working on overtime that night#Link: an idiot#all of them#lu in healthcare#lu in healthcare war era#Warriors later passed out and sobbed and had a meltdown#as did Sky#both by themselves#because they're just like that#Time and Wind snuggled the whole night#writing#sicktember#sicktember 2023#I listened to the Gate of Time for the boys' return to Wars and Time waking up and it made me emotional#even though this piece doesn't feel particularly written well#but I hope everyone enjoys it :)
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Part 2: Does the Devil Have a Heart
Fandom: Peaky Blinders
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC
Summary: There's something particularly intriguing about the woman Charlie found sleeping in the stable that morning.
Word Count: 3,009
Notes: Warnings for references to animal abuse and injuries.
Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic
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Chapter 1: The Red Haired Woman
The gate to Charlie’s yard swung shut behind Tommy was a clang, the sound echoing in announcement of his presence. Taking a slow drag from his cigarette, he stalked forward, shoes kicking up mud. It had rained heavily the night before; the thunder and racket of droplets crashing against his roof keeping him awake for most of the night. Coming to a stop by the edge of the cut, he rubbed irritably at his eyes, fighting to hold in a yawn.
He really could not continue only getting a few hours at most of sleep a night. Otherwise, he was going to start getting sluggish.
“Tommy,” Charlie said, approaching him with slow steps, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Charlie,” he greeted back, taking his cigarette between his fingers to pluck it from his lips. “There’s a new shipment coming in in a few days, I need you too…” he trailed off as he finally got a good look at his uncle’s face, the prominent, worn lines in his forehead creased from more than just age and hard living. “What?”
Charlie cleared his throat. “We have a…not a situation, per se, but…”
“But what?”
Charlie shifted from foot to foot, glancing around as though worried that there might be someone lingering around who could be listening in. “This morning, I went into the stables to feed the horses, and I found a woman sleeping there.”
Tommy blinked, lips pursing. Squatters weren’t the most unusual thing, but he’d thought that they’d fixed the problem with the fancy new locks he’d made Charlie and Curly put on the gates. And the reputation he’d been amassing for himself since his return from war worked wonders to scare all the others away.
“So?” it was an annoyance, but they weren’t housing any contraband of particular significance that could be stolen at the moment. Most of the time they just sent the squatters on their way with a stern warning and little fuss. “Just make sure she didn’t steal anything and send her on her way, as usual.”
Charlie’s jaw set a little. “You don’t understand, Tommy.”
He raised an eyebrow, annoyance beginning to crackle under his skin. “No? What don’t I understand, Charlie?”
“She was sleeping in Wraith’s stable.”
Tommy went momentarily stiff with shock, fingers squeezing a little on his cigarette.
Wraith was a huge, young, black stallion Tommy had acquired not long after getting back from France. His previous owners had intended to put him down due to behavioral issues. Issues that, Tommy suspected, were a result of them abusing the poor boy. When he’d heard, he’d offered them a handsome amount in exchange for the horse, and had kept him housed at the yard ever since.
Wraith was difficult. Temperamental, willful, and distrusting. It took working with him every day for months until he trusted Tommy enough to consistently let him near him. He was even standoffish to Curly, of all people. He only ever let Tommy ride him, and had on more than one occasion tried to kick or bite Charlie and Curly when they entered his stable to clean or to replace his food and water.
Tommy let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head, half believing Charlie to be playing some sort of joke on him. No way in hell would his grouchy stallion allow a fucking stranger into his stable with him.
“I’m not joking, Tommy.”
His laugh died, smile fading. “That’s not possible.”
“That’s what I thought too. But I swear to God, Tom, she was in there, laying right up against him, fast asleep in the stable. That grouch of a stallion even got all upset and…protective when I tried to get near her.”
Tommy stared at him, baffled. “Where is she?”
Charlie jerked his head towards the tiny living quarters where they had a kitchen, washroom, and a few spare, tiny bedrooms. “I invited her in for breakfast.”
“You what?”
“What the fuck else was I supposed to do? Tommy, the horse who hates everyone–” off of Tommy’s look, he amended “everyone but you, didn’t even fucking whinny over her being in the stable with him,” but looked out over the cut, face suddenly grave. “And that’s not all.”
Tommy sighed, grinding his teeth together. Of all the fucking things to happen today…
“What?” he pried, despite knowing that he would probably regret it. Charlie looked at him again.
“That girl is covered in barely healed cuts and bruises. Crude bandages all over her. She looks like she was run over by a fucking car. Or worse.”
“Did she say what happened?”
Charlie shook his head. “I asked, but she clammed right up. Looked like she was about to cry and started shaking like a leaf. Whatever happened to her, I think it may have fucked her up just as bad in the head.”
Tommy turned the information over in his mind, examining it from every angle. “Did she say anything else?”
“Not much. Just mumbled something about needing to get out of England,” he shook his head. “But with those injuries, that girl has no business going anywhere. At least not until she’s healed.”
Tommy shot him a sharp look, already knowing where he was going with this. “We aren’t running a fucking charity here, Charlie.”
Charlie’s gaze sharpened, and for a moment, Tommy was certain that he saw a look of disappointment cross his features. He turned away from it, not wanting the reminder that even his Uncle Charlie, who always seemed to have a soft spot for him, now thought him but a cruel and heartless monster.
“We could let her work here in exchange for enough to live off of. Just until she’s healed,” Charlie suggested.
“In one breath you say she isn’t fit for travel and in the next you suggest putting her to work doing hard labor?”
“Not hard labor, just…things that would help out around here. With the increase in business, Curly and I could use a little help anyway.”
“If you need another stablehand, you should’ve told me so we could go about hiring one properly.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Properly?” he quoted back. Tommy nodded.
“The people who work here need to specialize in discretion and moral flexibility. How do we not know that the second she sees a box of contraband, she won’t go running to the police? Or gossiping amongst other women at the pub?”
“I’ll keep her away from that stuff. Only have her working with the horses, cleaning your car…that sort of thing.”
Tommy grinded his teeth together in frustration over his uncle’s stubbornness, staring out at the cut and the smoky expanse of Birmingham that surrounded it.
“Tommy…if you would just come in and see her. The look in her eyes…you’d understand why I’m so insistent.”
Tommy stared at him for a very long moment, jaw working as he weighed the possibilities in his head. On one hand, they did not know this woman. She could be a spy. Or a thief. Or, hell, a fucking undercover copper. He wasn’t about to risk his family’s welfare for her. But on the other…Charlie’s instincts when it came to people were rarely wrong.
And Wraith had trusted her.
He let out a small growl, glowering at the skyline of his city. “She doesn’t even look at any of the contraband, and you don’t discuss anything regarding the business with her, do you understand me? She cleans the stables, brushes the horses, changes their feed…that is all. And once she’s healed, she leaves.”
Charlie nodded. “Understood.”
“When the next shipment comes in a few days, store it with the rest and make sure your new…stablehand,” he ground out the word as if it were made of shards of glass, “doesn’t handle any of it.”
“Alright,” Charlie slung the rag he was holding over his shoulder. “Anything else?”
Tommy shook his head. “No, that’s it.”
Charlie moved to leave him alone, then hesitated. “Do you want to come say hello? It might do you good to at least meet her…”
“No,” he had no interest in her, he told himself, even as a part of his mind prickled with intrigue.
Wraith trusted her.
Charlie nodded, like it was the answer he’d been expecting. “Right. Well, I’ll be seeing you then, Tom,” he set off back the way he’d come. Tommy kept his gaze on the cut, watching the cold waters rush past. He wondered if the medals he had chucked into it had rusted over yet.
“Her name is Lucy!” Charlie suddenly shouted back over his shoulder. “In case you were curious.”
Despite his better judgment, Tommy couldn’t quite convince himself that he wasn’t.
∗ ∗ ∗
Shoulder leaning against a stack of crates near the entrance to a warehouse, Tommy listened in brooding silence as Charlie reported to him on their inventory. Everything was running according to plan. Polly was still giving him a little trouble in the betting shop, not yet ready to fully hand over the control she’d been given during the years of his absence. But he could manage her.
He had eyed the stables regretfully when he stepped into the yard that brisk morning. It was his intention yesterday to take Wraith out riding, but time had gotten away from him.
Poor boy. It was a shame that he would only let Tommy ride him, or else he could have asked Charlie or Curly to take him out to at least stretch his legs a little.
Reaching into his waistcoat, he pulled out his pocket watch. It wouldn’t take long for this meeting with Charlie to come to a close. Perhaps if he managed to wrap up his errands early enough, he could swing back around to the yard and take the stallion out for a short trot around town.
“You look tired,” Charlie remarked. Tommy shot him a glare, stuffing the watch back into his pocket.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re stretched too thin. Have you thought of bringing someone else on?”
“Someone else to do what?”
Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Run errands for you. Take notes at meetings, maybe spy on a man or two if need be.”
Tommy huffed, rubbing at his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you find anyone qualified for such a position, you let me know.”
Charlie looked like he was tempted to say something, but thought better of it. Fishing in his pocket, Tommy pulled out his cigarette case, jamming one perhaps a tad too aggressively between his lips, snapping the case shut and tucking it away in exchange for his lighter.
“You were telling me about the last shipment,” he urged Charlie to carry on after lighting the cigarette. He was eager to get out of there as soon as possible. In the time since Charlie had taken on his new stablehand, every time Tommy stopped by the yard, he always tried to convince him to come say hello to her. And every time, Tommy refused, ignoring the odd twinge of curiosity, and something else he couldn’t even begin to identify, curling in his gut.
It was a wonder that he hadn’t accidentally bumped into her on his many visits to the yard, but at the same time, he was making a concerted effort not to, and Charlie had mentioned that he was keeping her to mostly indoors work to prevent her straining herself too much or accidentally staggering upon some of the more…questionable items that they kept at the yard.
Charlie continued to inform him about the status of everything in his gruff voice. Tommy listened in silence, only grunting now and then in acknowledgement.
The click of hooves against the ground caught his attention, and his head raised from its downturned position to search for the source of the sound, brow furrowed.
A moment later, from around the corner, moving at a steady trot, came Wraith, his huge black figure unmistakable as he moved gracefully along the packed mud.
And astride him, riding bareback, was a petite woman with deep, rich, dark red hair, shorn short around her chin in loose curls. Even from a distance, he could tell that her features were delicate, almost doll-like, with round cheeks, full lips, and large eyes. Her expression was pinched in concentration as she skillfully maneuvered Wraith with a gentle pull of the reins. Her red hair swung around her pale, freckled cheeks as she did, soft curls brushing along her jaw before she shook them out of her face.
Tommy was so focused on watching her beautiful face, that he didn’t even fully process that she was riding his fucking horse for a moment. His lips had parted of their own accord, caught in a sudden, unfamiliar moment of complete speechlessness as he watched her ride past him. For a moment, her eyes–she was close enough by then that he could make out their color as that of a very dark green, the likes of which he had never seen before–met his, and she blinked as if taken aback, doing a double take and then staring at him with a look of unbridled fascination.
He was used to women looking at him with lust. And he was pretty sure he detected a trace of attraction there, no doubt, but the look of intrigue and something else entirely in those green orbs made his heart rate pick up, throat suddenly dry.
She pulled Wraith to pass across in front of them, pushing him into completing another circuit around the yard. Tommy finally was able to catch a glimpse of the barely concealed bandages and stitches under the loose sleeves and collar of her clothes–whatever Charlie had given her to wear was too big for her tiny frame. And upon narrowing his eyes a little, he was able to make out the light purple of faded bruises on her skin.
Tommy tracked their movements with his eyes, and his breath caught at how effortlessly she handled the stallion. To the untrained eye, one may not have been able to catch the way that she shifted and tightened her legs against the horse’s sides at specific moments to give him silent commands. And despite her small, slight frame, she was strong. Tommy could see it in the way her legs moved and the way her grip adjusted on the reins. She was riding Wraith with zero trouble, as easily and as casually as if she were walking across the street to the market to do her shopping. Wraith, who never let no one else but him ever ride him.
Tommy didn’t know if he was jealous or impressed.
Something, slumbering where it was locked away deep in his chest, stirred, cracking one eye open inquisitively.
“Tommy? Tommy!”
He jerked as if rousing from a dream, blinking and then coming back to himself all at once, face snapping around to Charlie. His uncle’s eyebrows were raised, cheeks twitching as though trying to fight back what may very well have been a smile.
Tommy coughed, hastily looking down. He could feel his face heating a little at being caught practically gawking at a pretty woman like a smitten schoolboy.
“What?”
Charlie didn’t say anything for a moment, shifting from foot to foot. “That was Lucy.”
“I figured.”
“She’s been a big help. She’s great with the horses. Almost as good as you. And Wraith likes her, so it’s not as much of a pain in the arse getting him fed and his stable cleaned.”
Tommy nodded, keeping his eyes focused downward, for risk of catching sight of the red-haired woman again and falling into another bout of mindless staring.
“She’s a hard worker. Very observant, and a fast learner. Her injuries are healing well, so I’ve been letting her take on a little more work as she feels comfortable,” Charlie continued on.
Tommy thought again to the bandaged cuts he’d spotted under her oversized shirt. “Did she say what happened to her?”
“No,” Charlie’s voice dropped gravely. “I don’t think she sleeps all that much. And the other night she woke me and Curly up because she was screaming in her sleep.”
“Screaming?” Tommy frowned.
“Curled into a ball and cried after I woke her up,” Charlie hesitated. “She didn’t want me to touch her.”
Tommy’s brows pulled together, stomach churning a little at the implications. “After you decided to take her on, I ordered some background checks be done on her. They should come back soon.”
“Right.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to come say hello. She really is a nice girl. And she loves the horses,” Charlie shot him a sly look. “You two would get on splendidly.”
“I have things to do.”
Charlie nodded, clearly having expected it. “Another time, perhaps.”
“Perhaps,” Tommy said, knowing that he had no real intentions on following through. If Lucy was truly as nice as Charlie said, it was all for the better that he stayed away from her. For her sake.
He said farewell to Charlie hastily, clapping him once on the shoulder, then shooting one final look towards where Lucy was still guiding Wraith into a light trot around the yard. Her red hair was a bright blot of sudden color in the otherwise monochrome gray of the yard. Of all of Small Heath and Birmingham, actually.
Again, his mind prickled with curiosity. Why was she here? Where the fuck had she even come from?
And what the hell had happened to her?
He looked away quickly, walking briskly towards the gate before she could bring the horse back around to this side of the yard. Shoving one hand in his pocket while the other gripped his cigarette, he tried to shake all thought and pondering about her from his head.
But try as he might, he couldn’t dispel how, in the brief moment their eyes had met, he could have sworn that just from that single glance alone, she had understood him better than anyone else had in his entire life.
Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!
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#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x oc#peaky blinders#lucy winters#lucy winters x tommy shelby#my ocs#my fanfiction#love me where i'm most ruined
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Yamato/Tenzo
I love that Yamato's story begins as one where he's just sort of there to replace Kakashi while Kakashi's recovering from overusing the Sharingan, but then it evolves into this huge backstory where he was raised by Danzo to not feel emotions and to always put the mission over everything (even his own life) but then Kakashi came crashing into his life and showed him that 'actually it's good to care about people and I'm willing to break rules and risk my life for you, someone who just tried to kill me'. I love the depth of Yamato's story and how he clawed his way from being no one unknown by anyone in the village except Danzo, to being his own person with an over-expressive personality and a desperate need for a vacation.
I love that his dream is just to simply be loved and wanted. To have a sort of family that he can return to. That he can love. After everything he has been through and done, Yamato deserved to be loved. He deserved to be appreciated and adored.
That no matter how many times Kakahsi asks him to stop calling him 'Senpai' he refuses. It's like his own little rebellion against Kakashi. He would do almost anything for Kakahsi, except stop referring to him as Senpai. That's just never going to happen and I adore it.
How he comes into Team seven telling Sakura that he's not going to baby them and that unlike his precious Senpai he's not there to protect them. He looks her straight in the eye and tells her she's a Shinobi and has to know how to take care of herself, and then he turns around and becomes the most caring big brother to team seven (specifically Naruto). The man was ready to yell at Sakura over her confession. He watched over Naruto and cared for him after his panic attack. He only ever wanted the best for those kids and he showed it in everything he did for them, even when his efforts weren't recognized.
I love how chill he is with Gai. Kakashi is 'Senpai', Asuma is 'Asuma-enpai' and Gai is- Gai. He's comfortable enough to shove Gai's arm off of his shoulder, knows him well enough to know how the use of the gates affects his body, and yells at Naruto not to touch Gai while he's recovering, and he's even comfortable enough to laugh when Kakashi tells him about Gai's 'acorn'. The two of them didn't get nearly enough screen time together and that's always going to be a pity because they had such a good bond in what little we saw of them.
How protective he is. As stated, Yamato is someone who was raised to not care about others. The mission comes first and everything else is secondary. His last mission for Danzo was to kill someone he considered a friend and ally and he had even accepted that he would have to do it until Kakashi talked to him. But then as an adult, Yamato is completely different. He's the guy who catches Sakura while she's falling even though he should focus on the fight. He's the one who gets captured in the war because he chooses not to focus on his own safety, but to shove Aobe out of the way of Kabuto's attack. He learns from Kakashi that friends are precious and must be protected, and even though he acts like that's not something he adheres to it's all an act. He loves his friends and he's willing to give everything for them, including his own life.
His desperate need for recognition/praise. This makes sense given the way Yamato was raised, but I love how easily he falls for Kakashi's sweet words. You know this boy needs a little bit of love because as soon as Kakashi says something sort of nice about him he melts. He's done for, and I enjoy it so much.
Drunk Kareokee Singing. This speaks for itself. Yamato's rarely allowed an opportunity to relax and unwind so the karaoke scene is a blessing (even if it is Anime only) and I enjoy every second of it. Would absolutely listen to his bad drunk karaoke singing.
(Movie only: lost tower) that moment he got back at Kakashi for years of bullying, by hitting kid Kakashi for being a little brat of a bully. Love that for him. He deserved to get in that single hit.
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"Ralof of Riverwood." Aka the intro scene angst post that got out of hand. 1.5k words
The son of a blacksmith and the son of a mill worker. It was inevitable they meet and become part of each other's lives–not only because Riverwood was a small town and everyone knew everyone, but because their families so often worked together. Hadvar, who was learning how to wield a hammer but too small to help around the forge; Ralof, too young to work the mill but old enough to get into trouble, learning how to handle wood without getting splinters in his fingers. They were young when they met and became fast friends, boys with wide eyes and toothy little grins swapping secrets and bragging about how much help they were to their parents.
But boys don't stay young forever, and they aged into young men, taller and stronger and growing into a sense of pride over their work. Contests over who was stronger, faster, quiet evenings by the river talking softly about their visions for the future. It had never been a question: whatever that future was, they were in each other's. Two young men making an oath under the setting sun to always stick together–to the end.
Except, older now, they're aware of what's been on the wind without them ever noticing: the strained relationship between their families, tense words, a mask of politeness put on only for their sons. Until they came of age. Leaving boyhood behind and becoming men, they listened to their mothers and fathers, heard about the fighting over who Skyrim belonged to, the conflict over whether or not the Empire had any place in the province. The truth, no longer watered down.
[You were the one that I wasn't supposed to lose.]
They had their first full blown argument after what had started as a joke and had left each other full of apprehension. They'd once thought it ridiculous, thought the conflict over the war would never–could never–bother them here. But neither man was willing to concede, and stilted interactions became fewer and fewer, until Ralof watched his oldest friend leave for the last time, heading out of the gate towards Solitude. To join the Empire. Hadn't he been listening? The Imperials made demands and they were expected to follow them–but who was the Empire to give commands on Skyrim's soil? Initial despair slowly burned away into a sense of betrayal, and soon Ralof was leaving, too, making the journey to Windhelm to join Ulfric.
Years and worlds apart, promotion after promotion, as much as they hated it, as guilty and terrible as they felt when memories returned, they still thought about one another; it's not often you forget such an old friend–maybe even your first friend. They never saw each other on the battlefield and prayed that was enough, that they'd never have to be the one to end each other's life. And their wish was granted.
[Never again will I look into the only eyes that knew me, feels like a bullet running through me!]
It was while Hadvar read the prison logs his captain gave him after an unexpected detour that the world came to a sudden halt. The sounds of armor and weapons, voices and footsteps–everything faded, replaced with his heart pounding in his ears. He sucked in a single, shallow breath when his chest ached and he realized he'd stopped breathing and he read the list again. 'Stormcloak; Ralof; Riverwood.' His blood ran ice cold and he shivered despite the warmth of his station. He'd known the names on the list were why he was here, was why Tullius had so abruptly changed course and had ridden so hard to Helgen; they were here for an execution, or a few, and he'd already been struggling to cope with the fact, head full of cotton for the last day and a half as he assisted with preparations. It was bad enough he was here as a part of something as gruesome as an execution–death was awful enough on a battlefield, full of adrenaline and necessity–but when he realized his friend's name was on the list, everything just… stopped. He scanned the list again and again, trembling fingers tracing each name on the page, but it never changed from what he knew it was. When he came back to himself some time later–so much later that the candle nearby had burned down–he pleaded for a different assignment, a different role during the event, and each time he was harshly denied. He'd been given an order. It would be followed.
He practiced reading the names through the burning lump in his throat, and it took hours before he could speak them without breaking down.
[You were the one that I wasn't supposed to lose–I thought I'd have you for a lifetime! Have you for a lifetime.]
It had been days since the Imperial ambush, and Ralof had gotten better about hiding how uncertain he was. He was part of Ulfric's guard–he needed to appear calm, needed to keep it together for the rest of the Stormcloaks, but exhaustion weighed heavily and he knew they could see it in his glassy eyes. He had no idea how the Empire seemingly knew where they'd be, and he had no idea where it was taking him, where it was taking Ulfric and the heart of their campaign. All he knew was that they wouldn't survive wherever they were going, and while his last days would be full of fear and remorse, his kinsmen didn't have to spend theirs the same. He did his best to keep them calm, reassure them–lie through his teeth to avoid starting a panic and having them all killed somewhere in the woods instead.
He had a series of realizations once the prison caravan reached the first gate. There was Tullius, arguing with the Thalmor he'd betrayed his citizens for, here for the show; as the cart rattled along over the cobbles, he started to distantly recognize where they were beneath all the Imperial banners; and as the caravan came to a stop and something caught his eye–sunlight gleaming on wicked, curved steel in the distance–that this was going to be their last hour alive. You've prepared for this, he told himself, and he had; fighting against sleep to keep the peace, he'd done what praying and pleading for forgiveness he could to prepare himself for the death he knew was coming.
Ralof was not prepared for Hadvar to be holding the ledger when he stepped off the cart.
It had been years since they'd seen each other, but he'd know his friend's face anywhere, as often as it haunted his dreams. His chest felt tight as he watched the soldier look over the prisoners, and when their eyes met between the shoulders of everyone between them, he watched Hadvar's expression crumple before he forced it into something more presentable, bowing his head low over the book in his hands to hide the despair in his eyes and the miserable twist of his mouth. Somehow, despite the exhaustion that had him swaying on his feet and the overwhelming urge to run, get out, escape running through his veins, he managed enough energy to feel a flicker of anger. What good would Hadvar's regret do him? What good did it do as his shoulders rose with a deep, measured breath and he read aloud Ulfric's name?
"Ralof of Riverwood." Quiet, steady–steady in the way a man spoke when he was trying not to cry, steady like his own words had been hours before. Dark, miserable eyes followed him as he moved off the path towards an expectant soldier, and as they passed one another, whatever anger Ralof had mustered died out. What good did forcing himself to hate a friend do him in his last moments? Even as he passed him by and the headsman came clearly into view, he could admit to himself that all this time, he's still considered Hadvar a friend. And the darkness under his eyes, a face as tired as his own: Ralof knew without anything being said that the Imperial felt the same.
He stood as tall as he could on unsteady legs next to Ulfric, proud to stand and die beside him, as much as it terrified him–he was young, after all, had known the risks but thought he'd have more time. Hadvar, hardly a distance away, could only take in what would be the last time he'd ever see his best friend, exhausted, bound, and sent to the block by his own words. His condemnation. Heads filled with duties and regrets, both men tried to face what was coming with their heads as high as they could and wondered how much of it was for each other.
Later, they would meet again, though they were unaware–it would be sooner than they'd ever think, surrounded by smoke and ash and raining hellfire, shouting to be heard over the din. Voices straining to be heard, a desperate performance as steel shines wickedly in the firelight, two enemies knowing what their station demands and unwilling to do it, hoping, once again, they wouldn't be the one to end the other's life.
#skyrim#hadvar#ralof#LOOK THE ANGST POST WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS#BUT LIFETIME (3DG) HIT ME OVER THE HEAD WITH A BASEBALL BAT#looklooklooklooklook#okay#it got a little out of hand#but like. the end. the END OKAY. WHEN YOURE ESCAPING#'ralof you damned traitor! out of my way!'#'you wont stop us this time!'#ITS NEVER READ AS GENUINE TO ME#THOSE ARE NOT GUYS WHO WANT TO KILL EACH OTHER#THAT IS PURELY THEATRE#DENIABILITY
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make this inn our own: chapter one
for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter prompt challenge, my steddie hallmark au!
read it on ao3
summary
After a family secret threatens the upstanding Harrington name, Steve is forced to leave Hawkins right after highschool. Life carries on without him, The Party defeats Vecna and the gates close, and ten years pass.
Then, Otis Harrington dies and leaves Steve the Carnation Inn. With Christmas fast approaching, business man Steve must return to Hawkins and fix it up to sell. But coming home comes with guilt, trauma, and grappling with his identity in the Harrington family, and the family secret that tore him away from the one person who may have understood what he was going through. Add in a dilapidated inn, a snarky handyman, a meddling gang of no-longer-kids, and a little bit of Christmas Magic, and everything Steve has fought so hard to build is suddenly threatening to crumble around him.
chapter one: boys don't cry
“Umm. Mr. Harrington?”
Steve groaned, and scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked up from the screen in front of him, immediately losing track of the numbers swimming across the screen. “Candice,” he said, slow as he tried to keep the anger out of his voice. “I told you to hold all my calls. I need to get these reports done and I just don’t have time.”
Candice shuffled, nervously, in the doorway. He couldn’t fault her too much, truthfully. She was one of those perpetually slightly nervous girls, flighty and a little bouncey, but she was a good assistant. One time, when someone had tried to barge in unannounced, she held on to the doorframe so tightly to stop them that she’d almost broken a nail. And when his brain hit the point where the numbers mixed up more than usual, if he asked, she’d read them out to him, careful and slow, with no judgment whatsoever. “I know,” she said, and let out a sigh. “I told them that, trust me. But the person is insistent. They, um. They told me to tell you it was about, uh, Otis? And they said you’d know who that was, and they won’t hang up until you answer the phone.”
Steve felt the colour drain out of his face, heart lurching into his chest. Otis Harrington, his granddad. Family, and even though his dad hadn’t talked to the man in at least ten years, Otis was one of the good ones. One of the ones who still sent a card every Christmas, still told Steve he was always welcome, still answered Steve’s calls even though as the years went on the time between them stretched further and further. He hadn’t seen Otis in probably three years now, the last time the man had come into the city and gotten lunch with them, but he’d been thinking about maybe trying to get back to Hawkins for Christmas. But it was always the war inside of him: half wanting to see Otis, to curl up in the giant arm chair in front of the fire like when he was a little kid, to listen to his stories and hear Otis’s big belly laugh, sneak drags off his pipe, and half the voices in his head, Nancy, bullshit bullshit bullshit, his father, this fucking town is only good for fags and commies, and Harrington’s are no fags and commies, and Dustin, who he could still hear through his tinny voicemail, why did you leave without telling me? We almost died and we needed you and you weren’t here! Good to know we mean shit all to you just like everybody else.
No. He knew, in his heart, he was never going back to Hawkins for Christmas.
keep reading on ao3
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#hallmark au#HELLO EVERYONE SHE IS FINALLY UP!!!#please enjoy!#i hope you like chapter one! sorry there is no eddie in it haha#but i promise the set up is important#aiming for chapter two tomorrow so#stay tuned!#hex writes stuff#my stuff
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-1- Pit Stop
He felt his situation was a bit odd; peculiar, even. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could never go to sleep. He couldn’t distinguish the heat of a cooking pan or the chill of a frosty night. His usual companions were little critters who littered his body whenever he got lost in thought. And the mere sight of him drove the people from their homes.
He could have sworn humans walked, spoke, and looked like him. So why did they call him a monster?
—
“Sanji! I’m hungry!”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t raid the pantry last night, you’d have something to eat right now!”
“But I was hungry then too…” A boy pouted, seconds away from his blonde cook’s beating.
A ginger-haired woman leaned over the railing, a bit starved and irritated by her captain’s lack of selflessness. In her hand was a brilliantly drawn map, unfinished by a few kilometers they were sure to cover before the sunset. Then they would officially be at the Red Line–
“GUYS! GUYS! I SEE AN ISLAND!” She heard one of her crewmates shout. Without a second thought, their captain cheered, hoisting himself on the head of the Going Merry while shouting, “FULL SPEED AHEAD, NAMI!”
Nami pinched the bridge of her nose, keeping the helm steady while the rest of the crew took their positions.
‘Just a pitstop. Looks pretty deserted, maybe I’ll take its measurements while we’re there’ She thought, a smile blessing her beautiful face as her grip tightened on the map.
“OH NAMI, YOU’RE AS RADIANT AS EVER!”
…
—
What had been thought to be uninhabited was actually a bustling beach of people, busying themselves with creating weaponry, training themselves, and throwing the occasional knife at trees with intricate drawings.
The Strawhat pirates believed that they’d be in for the fight of their lives. Imagine their surprise when, instead of attacking the pirates, a roar of cheers and smiling faces greeted them.
“Travelers, oh, travelers! Please HELP US!” One cried above the rest in the crowd that surrounded them. The captain grimaced at the plea while one long-nosed fellow jumped at the chance to be showered in their good graces.
“I, the great captain Usopp, shall listen to your woe. My men and I, as well as the three thousand to follow behind us, will help you in your time of need!”
The others glared at their crewmate as the voice came to stand before them; an old man with crazed hair and war paint adorning his wrinkled features. He told a story they were reluctant to believe.
A few nights before, one of the villagers returned home to find his door broken and every room ransacked. Around that hour, another family experienced something similar, the only difference being that they were awakened by it.
By the time they’d armed themselves and investigated, the culprit was nowhere to be found. Once the news of these crimes spread, the citizens had no doubt that the criminal would strike again. Some volunteered to watch the town’s borders that night while the rest hurried inside.
But they could never have imagined the monster lurking around their town.
To add to the repeated offense, it had been reported that one of the volunteers had gone missing. The family wept for their youngest as the villagers grew restless still. The next night, more volunteered, and one never came to roll call. What had been a simple pair of burglaries turned into the darkest period of the island’s history. It was a painful loop where some had only assumptions as to what had happened to their possessions or loved ones.
One morning, however, just as the sun rose, a yell could be heard from outside the border. The villagers, half of what populace they had been, gathered at the gate and witnessed the cause of their weeks of anguish.
A volunteer, nearly unrecognizable in her wounds, ran from a man at the forest border.
At the mere mention of him, the people wailed and shrieked how his blue veins crept, how his vessel bore a heinous shade of gray, his eyes that shone the embers of hell; the very epiphony of death itself.
“W-we’ve become the victims of a monster–a zombie!”
A shiver ran down the pirates’ spine, save for their captain–who’d only heard keywords from the story.
“WOAH! A ZOMBIE? AWESOME!”
“SHUT UP, LUFFY!” Nami was quick to hit the strawhat over the head while the chef glared at his quivering crewmate.
“Help ‘em in their time of need, huh?”
“Hh-ehh-ehehe, w-w-we don’t actually nneed t-to help–”
“Oooh, the Great Captain Usopp going against his word? Tsk tsk tsk” The cook smirked, turning his head to make a jab at the swordsman who was being suspiciously quiet.
…
“Hey, where’s–?”
“You have to help us! You don’t know how many we’ve lost!”
“We’ll give you anything! Anything!”
“Save us, pleeease!”
The crowd swarmed the pirates, so much so that they had to scramble to keep their footing.
“Wait, he can’t be on the ship–!”
“Ship, our ship sounds g-gr-great right now! Let’s go back t-to the Merry, huh? Wh-who’s with me?!”
“Uh, yeah, no island’s measurements can come before my life, nuh-uh.”
“But I’m hunngryyyy! And the zooooombbiieee! I wanna see ‘immm!”
“Hold on, I think Mosshead’s miss–!”
In the fraction of a millisecond between his comment and the interruption, Sanji felt annoyed. He had something pretty significant to convey, but the world seemed against it. His subconscious swore that the next thing to get in his way would pay the price two-fold.
The cook snapped his neck towards who clutched his arm, ready to kick at max force; but was quick to turn to putty once he became aware of the softness that came with it.
“Please, sir,” A woman whimpered, breasts almost as voluptuous as Nami’s, “I’ll do anything to avenge my father.”
Sanji’s face hardened. A beautiful woman weeping for the loss of her loved one, clinging onto him? He looked over the sea of villagers and saw beauties past the war painted faces, brinking on tears and gazing upon a potential hero; him.
His third eye awakened, specifically meant for lovely, rational scenarios. It came to the conclusion that, if he defeated this monster thing, all the ladies would smother him in their affections.
That was all Sanji needed to look his captain dead in the eyes and say, “Let’s go zombie-hunting.”
The boy smiled, “Mm! I was gonna anyways!”
“B-B-BUT A ZOMBIE!? IT’S A ZOMBIE, DO WE HAVE TO!?”
“GOD DAMNIT, I FRIGGIN’ HATE YOU GUYS!”
…
“Wait, where’s Zoro?”
—
The sun steadily fell and its warm honey light peered through treetops and low ferns. It was a fairly tamed piece of land, considering the island’s rather lengthy history, but never had more than one official path; to make travel easier for the young and old.
So how was it that a man in the prime of youth, with a body ripped to the brim, and undoubtedly sharp instincts strayed from that simple strip of dirt and made his way deeper into the forest?
“Ah shit, where’d my bandana go?” He muttered.
Yes.
He lost his bandana.
And then got lost himself.
Zoro Roronoa was a man of few things. The clothes on his back, the haramaki around his torso, and the three swords on his waist were seemingly replaceable to any common man. But like the rest of the Strawhat pirates, he was no normal man.
They were his items and all had their place.
The bandana, for example, was crucial in keeping sweat from his eyes and making him look more threatening. It would have been a great help in the battle against the weirdos they were approaching on the beach, but as soon as he untied it, the wind snatched the fabric and threw it in the opposite direction.
Would the situation wound his pride semi-significantly? Probably.
Would he admit it to his crew? Absolutely not.
Zoro figured he’d just need to pick up the pace, considering there was no commotion to be found. If he were lucky, the wind would bring his bandana to him and he’d still be able to warm up with some beach underlings.
But the swordsman was in the middle of some uncharted land. There was little to no chance he’d make it out that soon, let alone stumble into anyone that could help him out–
“Yo.”
…
“Hello.”
…
Zoro thought the smell that’d been following him was the aftermath of him training rather than bathing over the past week. But with the arrival of the man in front of him, he could rest assured that he wasn’t the grossest guy in the world.
“Uh…hey.” He replied, eyeing the guy from his choppy light hair to his veiny feet. Upon closer inspection, he looked like he belonged in a morgue.
“Need.”
“Need?”
“Help.”
He felt a headache coming on.
“Look, I’m not trying to help some rando out.” He said, nauseated by the man’s scent. Maybe he really was dead, but the swordsman couldn’t judge considering he was headstrong against showering too. “Get outta here before you kill me with that stench or something”
Zoro trudged past him to get back to his previous task.
“You.”
He trudged faster.
“Need.”
He wondered why the most stubborn people had to pop up when he least wanted them to.
“Help.”
Zoro hesitated, looking back in earnest hopes that the guy was far enough to where his nose wouldn’t become permanently blind. Luckily, he had kept his distance.
“Me? I need help? How about you mind your own business and crawl back into whatever grave you came from.” He bit bluntly, waiting for the man to, essentially, lose his shit so he could put his swords to good use.
However, he didn’t. Not a single word came from his dark blue lips as he approached the ever-so-wary man. “Hey, don’t come so close! You reek!”
He raised his hand like clockwork, almost reaching for the back of his neck before seemingly changing his mind. Instead, his finger came up to the rim of his ear and tapped twice in a very showy way.
Zoro had wondered a lot since the beginning of their encounter. Who was this freak? Why did he look like a freak? Why did he act like a freak? Why was he bugging him? And what the hell was up with his one-worded sentences?
Yet it was at this point of his sheer curiosity that led to him witnessing an entire month’s worth of nightmares crawling out of the man’s ear. It was like some intervention from the world–how all the questions he’d asked himself were answered unanimously.
He is a freak.
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@funiculiholiday inquired:
❧
Send Me a Symbol to look into my Muses Memories!
Send me “❧” for a memory that brings them anger
~
As Dark Choco approached the blank sugar glass pane, it shone as it resonated with a memory...
Twin figures, both of their poses aggressive, one clad in armor and armed with a sword, both as white as snow, while the other wore a thick coat dyed in solemn shades of purple.
"But don't you see!?!" The shorter one implored the other, determination alight in his eyes, sense of justice audible in the way he spoke. "Just because the sea is dangerous doesn't mean we can't take care of the people too! If we could just split up the Watchers between the wall and patrols..."
But the taller figure, hair tied up and face worn with age, wouldn't listen.
"There will be no people to take care of if the wall is breached! The monsters of the licorice sea will spread beyond our boarders whether or not they are happy!"
The shorter - who was definitely a younger Dark Choco - frowned, expression shifting into one of exasperation. It seemed that they'd had a similar argument before.
"But it won't matter if the wall is breached if everyone's starved to death! O-or frozen! I've gone out there, and they've told me about how much more aggressive the monsters are. The Licorice Tribe almost got buried in an avalanche recently! If you'd just let the Watchers do what they're supposed to do they could-"
"And what would you know about what they're 'supposed to do', boy?" Dark Cacao demanded in turn. Stepping closer, he seemed to somehow tower over him even more than before, making even the once-confident prince shrink back a little bit. "You've run away from the frontlines of this battle - this war! - against a force that wants nothing more than to tear apart the very people you want to protect!"
"And now! Now you demand the Watchers do the same!" He continued, ignoring the way Dark Choco opened his mouth as if to retort. "I did not raise you to be this much of a coward."
As if a bomb whose fuse had completely burned to nothing, it was then that Dark Choco exploded.
"I'M a coward!?! I am not the one holing himself up inside the Citadel while the people he's supposed to help come to our gates and beg for help!! I want to be the hero they need, while YOU do nothing but talk about what YOU think needs doing!!"
This time, Dark Cacao was the one ignored as he attempted to interrupt.
"You're a terrible king, and an even worse hero! Hollyberry and Pure Vanilla and everyone else would be ashamed of you!" A sharp inhale. It was hard to tell whether he was catching his breath or trying not to cry. "Because I know I am!"
"How dare you-"
"IN FACT," He wasn't about to let this go. Not now. Not after everything he'd already said. "I know where to find something that'll fix everything! A-and I'm leaving to go find it!"
First thing tomorrow, he was going to say, but he knew better than to wait. The look on his father's face signified he wouldn't have another opportunity if he did.
"You-"
"I was just going to get ready in a few hours, but since you're so convinced it isn't dangerous enough in our Kingdom, I've decided to go right now!"
With that, he walked away as fast as he could manage, blocking out the way his father and a Watcher who'd overheard them called after him.
And the rest was history.
...
As the memory faded away, as it solidified onto the once-blank pane in the form of abstract art depicting the scene, Dark Choco returned to present time to find that his jaw was set and that his fists were clenched.
"... ... ..."
Even now, he couldn't understand his father's gall...
#funiculiholiday#{ CASUALLY goes ham }#{ might even put this up properly tbh }#▷Dark Choco ♚ Drabble.◁#▷Dark Choco ♚ Ask.◁
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FFxivWrite 2022: Prompt #7: Pawn
"It is your move."
"I know," Yvain replied. His attention was not truly on the board, but on the man across him.
Ector Abelard. His Father. The stern, just man he had known and left behind all those years past. He was thinner now. Years of the War had left their mark, even if Viscount Ector did not participate in it as an active combatant. It'd be a fool's errand. The empty sleeve where his left arm ought be was still the same, but the frame upon which the noble garments were donned has lost some of its mass. It was especially prominent when he regarded his Father's face.
Ever a stern, narrow face, it was now all the more dagger like. Sharpness in it was still there, made prominent by the hawkish beak of his Father's nose. Grays riddled his neatly combed black hair.
"Yvain?" His Father caught his gaze, head tilted just enough to make it a question.
Yvain swallowed a lump in his throat. After all these years, his Father was speaking with him. They had not broached the painful topic of Yvain's departure, but with Ymir's brother wishing to marry Vivienne and Yvain's acquaintance with Ymir, he has been called back to Abelard mansion and has spent a long, long time speaking with his Father. What had been talk of the would-be fiancée slowy gave way to talk of other things. Distant places and people who live there. Opportunities abroad for enterprising merchants. Culture. War. Adventurers.
Slow it had been, and strange dance they led. A spiral towards the starting point, really. Neither seemed to want to step directly towards the topic of Yvain's departure.
Yvain made a move. A careless one, for it cost him a knight. It was enough to make his Father's brow knit together. They had played the game before, in Yvain's youth. One of those things a father and his son could do together in companionable silence, but now, with the gap of over twenty years between the last time they spent time together like this, Yvain's heart felt like it might burst out of his chest.
T'was unbecoming of him. He was a man grown now. One might say, far too grown. Two more summers and he would be forty. As old as his Father was when he had been born. And yet... Before his Fathers' gaze, he felt but a child, yearning for forgiveness. For no matter how right he felt he was when he left. No matter how far his road had taken him, he still felt horribly sorry for what he had put his family through by his impetuous act. His was the right choice, but that did not mean he could ignore the pains he put others through due to it.
"I am fond of pawns," Ector suddenly said, one long finger atop a pawn he meant to move.
It was plain to him that his son was troubled. His son. This man sitting across him, of whom he heard so many tales. The likeness to that boy was still there, beneath the weathered features and scars which were strewn across Yvain's face. Open reminders of the life he had led, far from home and everyone he had grown up with.
Difficult it was to find the right words. Viscount Ector Abelard was not, as a rule, a prideful man. Fury teaches all that pride precipitates a far greater fall. But his heart was hardened by his pride for many a year since his boy had left them all to pursue... What? He was not sure, now. All he knew for certainty was that he felt the departure keenly. The family name in tatters. His wife and daughters, mocked behind their backs, much like he was. Yvain's departure was such a blow to his pride that all he could do for many a year was to coil cold ice around the wound, and keep it the same as it was, with no thought given to how his son was doing out there. What joys and sorrows had he experienced? What did he learn and improve upon? Whom did he love, and with whom did he spend his time?
When the War ended, and the reality of their world came crumbling around his head, Ector had still not wanted to listen. Though the Gates were open and his son surely returned, not once did he deign to ask after him. He knew his wife and daughters did, and eventually, mended their relationship. Not he though.
Was it pride? Vanity? What did he hope to cling to, whilst his son turned into a man of many tales and talents? Would clinging to the thought of what once was bring him that boy back? Turn back the time? Why would he even wish for that, now that he knows all he knows? This peace they live in now is far more agreeable than endless war and strife.
"Pawns have the longest road ahead of them. They cannot jump across obstacles. They cannot leap aside, or cut through the center. They move one step at the time and upon reaching the end of their road, they can become near anything they wish to be. I always felt that to be an admirable thing," Ector heard himself speak, though he was not sure what he wished to truly say.
The words just came. "You have come a long way, haven't you, my son?"
The pieces clattered on the board as Yvain rose from his seat. He did not go far. There was no need to go far. Merely far enough to embrace the man he loved so, whatever he had done in the past.
Just far enough to feel his Father's hand on his head.
Far enough for tears to fall.
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as promised, here is another hades!harry x persephone fic. this one takes place 4 months after she's left. i think i'll write a final part to this about their reunion. thanks for reading!!!! 4k words
***
In the Underworld, there’s a general unsettling sense about the shadows lurking around the gates of Tartarus, the whispers of the dead souls arriving alongside Thanatos, and the looming fear of the rulers of the Underworld.
Hades, King of the Underworld, also known as Harry, rarely presents himself above ground for the mortals and other Olympian Gods to see, leaving most of the world in both awe and terror about the King himself. The Underworld depends on the King, its entire structure crumbling when he’s away from his home for too long, however, in the past few months, there hasn’t been any reason for him to leave the Underground. His Queen, Persephone, has faithfully remained by his side for the 6 months that she’s entitled to. The gardens have flourished, the judgements met, and the normalcy of his life restored.
But now, it’s been 4 months since she’s been gone, returned to her home above ground, and Hades is left in his world, counting the days until his wife returns, bringing life and happiness along with her.
His bed is far too big, his bedroom too cold, his heart too small when she’s gone. He turns his head to look out the window, the darkness seeping into his room without the curtains. It seems like the nights drag on without the sunlight to remind him of times when days used to be long. He’s unsure of how long he’s been in bed, but it can’t be less than a few hours. His mind remains wide awake while his body is fatigued with tiredness.
Harry turns his head and looks at her side of the bed, imagining the curve of her waist, her dark skin loved on by the sun. Sometimes when she arrives in the Underworld, her skin is peeling from the treatment of the sun. Sometimes she walks with a grimace because it hurts and she needs an ice bath immediately, and the expression on her face makes him want to start a war with Helios himself. Persephone never seems to show the discomfort for long, and even goes so far to argue that she enjoys the burn of the sun as it reminds her of all that she loves in the world. Hades will never fully understand what that means, and too often she simply pats his cheek and tells him that it’s completely fine if he doesn’t fully understand.
Harry now rests a hand on his cheek, feeling the weight of her hand on him. His eyes are forcefully torn away from his wife’s side of the bed, unable to look at it any longer. He wishes he could feel the dip in the bed where she lays, her legs tangled with his, head resting on his pillow because she doesn’t like hers enough.
He simply cannot take it any longer. He sits up and lets the sheets around him fall from his bare chest, pooling at his waist. Nobody will be awake at this hour, and the person he’d like to speak to the most won’t be around for another 2 months, so he goes to the one he knows will listen to him.
After putting on some clothes, he heads out, lighting candles with a wave of his hand as he continues down the corridors and into the lounge area that has been expanded by his wife to include their pets. She’s always detested how their dog doesn’t have a place for himself in the actual palace, so here is Cerberus now, in his dog bed. One that takes up nearly half the room.
“Hi, boy,” Harry mutters when the dog raises all three of his heads and looks at his owner. The sleep is instantly gone from his eyes as he sits up and begins excited tapping his feet, eager for the touch of his owner. “Hi.”
Cerberus lays himself down in front of Harry and rests all three heads in his lap once Harry sits down on the floor beside his dog bed. He runs his hands over the middle head, smiling gently. “I woke you up.”
Cerberus gives Hades a small whimper and then licks his hand generously.
“I’m okay,” Harry says, scratching the dog’s ears. “I just can’t sleep.” He swallows thickly. “I just miss her a lot.”
Cerberus whimpers again.
“You, too? I guess it’s just too different when she isn’t here. Too quiet. It seems like she’s the only person who knows how to laugh properly down here, making anything fun when necessary. I’m not that kind of person, the type to make the people around me happy. I’ve always known that and Zeus sticking me down here only makes matters more solid. I’m meant to be down here and she’s… she’s not. She’s meant to be up there with the rest of the goddesses. The ones who actually make a difference with the living.” Harry’s head hangs down as he looks at his hands. “I can’t force her to stay longer. I couldn’t do that to her. She thrives up there and here? Here she does me favors to make this place more habitable.”
Cerberus doesn’t make any noise, simply staring at his owner quietly. His eyes are rounder and more sympathetic. He feels all of Harry’s emotions, their souls intertwined in a bond that results in his pet feeling the despair that he does.
Harry can faintly hear her voice in his ear telling him that she'd fallen in love with him and that she’d agreed to stay with him for 6 months instead of the original 3 on her own volition. He’s heard that from her numerous times, but it only relieves his misery momentarily, because when she’s gone and he’s left in the dark, he can’t help but think that where she remains for the other 6 months of their marriage is far better for her.
For the Underworld, however, it’s preferred when she’s here. The state of the kingdom thrives with its Queen present, during ruling, judgments, and her daily walks through the gardens to chat with the undead mortals. It’s a well known fact that most Gods and Goddesses simply do not care for the mortals, too caught up in their own immortal web to consider turning an eye on them, and even though Harry is the King of the Underworld and deals with mortals daily, he hasn’t cared much about them. Persephone, on the other hand, pays special attention to them and enjoys talking to them.
The ones that aren't afraid of her, at least.
At first glance, Persephone is the lenient Queen that everybody would like her to be: her expression one of permanent happiness with a smile that challenges Aphrodite herself, and a soft voice that may be understood as timid. But Persephone is the Bringer of Death and she takes her role as the Queen very seriously, dealing judgements out fairly and oftentimes cruelly, as it is well deserved by the worst of the mortals. While it’s true that she enjoys seeing the mortals thrive in the Elysian Fields, she also enjoys seeing mortals receive their punishments based on their immoral actions in the living world.
Harry won’t lie: he can watch her listen and judge for hours. While he’s heard whispers that Persephone’s outer beauty masks her inner demon, he simply likes to think that his wife has two sides and both of them are perfect halves of each other.
“2 months more,” he says to Cerberus who is falling asleep in his lap. “2 more months and then she’ll be back.”
Hades tilts his head back against the seat of the couch and closes his eyes. He’s cold, but the blankets are far away and the dog in his lap weighs too much to push off without waking up. He simply lets his limbs relax and attempt to even his breathing.
2 more months. He’s done it before. He can do it again.
***
Sometimes, the King of the Underworld has nightmares.
When he was originally bestowed the Underworld as a gift, given the right to lock his father up thanks to his brother Zeus, the burden of sentencing his father weighed heavy on his chest. As a regular God in Olympus, he rarely has duties aside from everyday responsibilities, especially after his siblings and he healed from the physical aspects of their father’s rule over them.
However, nobody told him of the emotional burden he would have to carry while creating a hell specifically designed for the worst of all creatures, who he would oversee for all of eternity. The nightmares used to occur every night, and they became unbearable to the point where he’d only be able to sleep with Cerberus near him.
He’s desperately trying to catch this breath tonight. Working through the dream to remind himself that it was all in his head. Frantically, he pushes his head between his knees and begs himself to take a few deep breaths.
He hasn’t had nightmares in months. He rarely ever has them anymore when Persephone is here, but when he reaches an arm over to her side, he’s met with nothing but cold sheets and the looming dread of loneliness.
Staying out of breath doesn’t last too long, but the weight on his chest does. He forces himself back into an upright position and stares out his dark window at the Underworld. There’s a layer of sweat on him. He’s unable to do anything more than swings his legs over to rest his feet on the cold floor and stay there for several minutes.
He must get to her. Hades must get to his wife.
***
Persephone, also known as Kore, stares at the moon, her chin in her palm, elbows digging into the windowsill she rests her weight on. It’s nighttime so she won’t be able to make up a good excuse as to why she’s roaming around in the fields, so she’s had to stay indoors under her mother’s supervision.
Today was lovely. She spent the entire time with her friends helping mortals with their vegetation, but despite the home here, she couldn't help but think of her other home.
Months ago, she had spent a day off with her husband in the Underworld in the fields. She’d shown him her powers, grown trees full of fruit between their castle and Elysian. She’d proposed that they should hold a banquet down there with all their favorite gods and goddesses, and despite Harry gently telling her that nobody but Hermes would like to make the trip here, she’d insisted on it. She recalls how he ultimately gave in to her and told her that next winter, they’d have that banquet. She recalls how he helps her face in his palms and laid kiss after kiss to her face. She recalled how flowers bursted from his pockets when she touched his belt.
He’d love to see her work. She knows he enjoys it when she becomes a ferocious Queen on the throne before mortals undeserving of her kindness. Persephone always senses his eyes on her when fingers glow with anger. He even tells her repeatedly how much she loves that she cares.
He would have enjoyed seeing her care for the mortals today. Gods and goddesses rarely ever do anything for the mortals anyways. Harry had asked her once. “What’s the point of it, my flower? Why must you care so much?”
Persephone remembers taking his hand and kissing his palm, mumbling, “Because the quicker I help them, the quicker they allow me to return to you.”
Hades’s eyes had widened with fondness. “And before you met me?”
She’s still nuzzling his hand. “I was miserable before I met you. I didn’t have a reason to help anyone. It feels good to help, don’t get me wrong, my love. But it was one sided. Now, the more I help them, the quicker they let me return home.”
Home. How dearly she misses Hades, her home.
She sighs deeply and watches the wind rustle the long grass outside, the night completely silent. What must Harry be doing right now? He must be asleep, right? Tangled in his sheets in just his underwear, her pillow cradle to his chest. A picture of serenity.
To her horror, her eyes well up with tears. She quickly presses her palms to them. No. She swore to him wouldn’t cry.
When she opens her eyes, she freezes.
Something’s just moved in the distance. She peers closer against the window, monitoring carefully. It's a movement. She sees it. It’s slithering closer, working its way through the blades of grass and it’s moving at an alarmingly fast rate as if to make sure it’s not seen.
And it’s slithering closer to her. Its black scaly skin shines against the moonlight, and she can see it’s frantic.
Persephone should be scared. She should be gathering her power between her fingertips and unlatching the window to attack it. She does unlatch the window, but not to harm the snake. To welcome him in.
He’s here!
He slides in quickly after scaling the wall. It’s the final movement that makes Persephone ease as she steps back to allow the transformation to happen in her room. Before he’s able to though, she holds her hands out and whispers, “Not yet!”
The black snake, now coiled around Persephone’s calf, almost lovingly, freezes and slides off.
Persephone clenches her trembling fingers and tip toes to her bedroom door. He’s here! He’s really here! She can’t wait to hold him and hug him and spill all her love onto him. After checking the hallway, she softly shuts her door and silently slides the lock into place.
The snake is waiting for her on the floor, but she can tell that he’s impatient. The tail is shaking erratically and his tongue keeps poking out.
“Okay,” Persephone says giddily, “Quietly, my love.”
He doesn’t transform immediately. Instead, he coils up around Persephone’s leg again, but this time tighter.
“What’s wrong?” she softly murmurs. He tightens his body around her. “Hades. Hey. Is it urgent?” Fear strikes her. “Has something happened? Why are you here? Is it urgent?”
He lays his head on her bare thigh.
“You’re scaring me, my love,” she whispers, stroking the snake gently. “Tell me what it is. Are you in danger? Are you in pain? Should I alert someone?”
Still no response. He’s coiled so tight around her that her leg pulses with warning. She’s losing feeling in it. Harry rarely ever comes to her during the spring. In the past, he’s done it twice, but he was caught the last time and barred from ever coming up again. Demeter swore there would be consequences if he was ever found lurking around Persephone above ground again.
So whatever reason he’s here must be a dire one. He wouldn’t risk being found unless he was desperate.
“Please,” she begs softly. “What is it? Tell me, my love, and I’ll help you. Don’t I always? Are you stuck? You cannot transform back? Transform now if you’re able to or I will assume you’re stuck.”
Finally, the snake transforms back into her husband. Already wrapped around her, when he becomes human again, his arms are tight around her, holding her firmly to his chest, fingers fisting her nightgown. She immediately can’t breathe.
His curly head is pressed to her neck, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin.
Wet.
Why are his eyelashes wet?
“Oh, gods,” Persephone softly swears, fingers laced into his curls. “Hades? Are you hurt?” Her heart is beating so fast, she feels slightly lightheaded. But she carefully walks them backwards until she can sit on the bed. Harry doesn’t move off of her.
He slides down her body and sits on the floor in front of her, resting his head face down on her lap. Her heart lurches at the sight. The fear is still deep in her and it only spikes at his lack of response.
“Please, Harry,” she implores, running her fingers through his curls. He’s wearing a thin black shirt and his grey sweats. He was asleep before this, she thinks. “Look at me. Talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
Moments later, he mumbles something against her lap.
Persephone clasps his face and pulls up, manually making him look at her. Her chest tightens at the sight of his red rimmed eyes and his tear streaked face. He looks broken and pained, eyes full of deep sorrow. The dark circles under his eyes look purple.
“Come back,” he whispers. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
Persephone immediately begins to tear up. She desperately begins wiping his tears away. “No. Why are you crying? Stop that. Stop! Stop, you promised no tears! I’m here!”
Hades is shaking his head. “Gods above, Pers, I cannot do this anymore.” His voice breaks at the end. “Whatever they want, I’ll give it to them. Whatever your mother desires and whatever bargain I can pull with Zeus. Please. I cannot do this any longer.”
“You must!” Persephone whispers, holding his face. She leans down and kisses him deeply. His tired lips kiss her back, but she feels the fatigue coursing through him. It’s powerful and painful. She smooths his hair back. “Don’t cry. Only 2 more months, Hades. Did something happen? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?”
She begins inspecting his face and body for any injuries. Harry simply lets her, not removing his eyes from her face. She doesn’t find anything wrong on the outside so it must be an inner issue.
“Did you have a nightmare?” she asks him, kissing his face repeatedly, only pulling away to speak. “Is that it?”
Wordlessly, Hades nods as she wipes his cheeks again. He looks so, so tired.
“Oh,” she whispers, letting him lay his head on her lap again. “I’m sorry. I’m here now. You’re here.” She rests her hand on his head gently. “Was it about…”
He nods again. “Can’t take it. Come back now. I’ve had enough. Haven’t you?”
She sighs deeply, kissing the top of his head. “2 more months, Harry.”
“I cannot wait 2 months,” he insists, raising his head. “Do you understand? I’m finished with this deal!”
“Harry,” she reasons softly, reminding him to keep his voice down, “it’s 6 months or it’s nothing. You know that.”
“I want you all year long!”
Her heart aches. “We can’t do that. My mother won’t let us. And I don’t want to ruin the deal we already have with her. Her letting me return home to you after 6 months is difficult enough. This shouldn’t be more complicated.”
He sits up, frowning. “But this isn’t fair to us!”
“I know,” she soothes him. “I know it isn’t. But you’re going to survive and so am I. We have eternity to look forward to. Just a few more months and I’m all yours. It’s difficult right now, trust me I know.” She glances out the window she was peering out of. “I think about you all the time. I think about how much I want you and love you.”
“How do you do it?” he whispers brokenly. “How do you manage 6 months?”
She looks back at him and offers him a weak smile. He’s so heartbreakingly handsome even in this state. “I manage because I know I’ll see you again. I manage because I make sure I remember that there is nothing in this world that could tear me from my husband.” She tucks his curls back, raising his head. Her mouth gently touches his. “There is nothing,” she repeats firmly, “that could tear me away from the only man I love. I will claw my way back to you if I must.”
Harry pushes himself up to his knees and tugs her closer, slamming his lips against hers, grasping her nightgown tightly. She gasps at the sudden movement but then wraps her legs around his waist and tangles her fingers into his hair, desperately kissing back.
“You are mine,” he whispers, kissing her mouth, bruising her lips over and over. “Come back to me. Come back, my flower.”
He stands, gently pushing Persephone onto the bed. He hovers over her briefly before kissing her again hungrily. She feels the emotions from him: desperation, love, excitement, and arousal. Hades is all tense muscle and careful movements, the taste of him on her tongue.
“You can’t stay for long,” she gasps, tilting her head back when he begins kissing her neck. “Fuck. Harry.” He pulls up for air, looking at her with shining eyes. “You can’t–”
“I know,” he whispers, holding her face. “Let me just kiss you. I can’t survive without your kisses.”
She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him eagerly, enjoying the feel of his hands running over her body. “We’ll be too loud,” she says between kisses, “if we do anything more. I cannot have Mother taking you away from me. I will do anything to get back to you on the day of the winter solstice. Even sacrifice our time together right now.”
To which Harry replies, “Please, Kore, don’t talk about your mother while I’m kissing you.”
She laughs suddenly, throwing her head back. Harry’s face finally breaks out into a smile. Despite his tired features, he looks happier. It was her kisses, she suspects. “I’m serious! I will not lose you just because you cannot stay quiet!”
“Me?” he says, offended. “During our love making, you are the loudest one. Or must I remind you?”
His fingers trail down to the hem of her nightgown, a difference in him than when he first arrived. “Stop!” she laughs again.
As she leans back in, there’s a knock on her door. The air in the room suddenly runs out.
“Kore?” It’s one of the nymphs that lives with her and Demeter. “Are you alright? I heard something.”
Harry freezes and places his hand over her mouth. “Tell me it’s locked,” he says under his breath, eyes wide.
His wife under him nods. Harry takes a deep breath and then gently releases her. He fixes her nightgown for her and then stands up, helping her also. He gives her a glance when she nearly falls into him, wrapping his arm around her
“I’m okay!” she calls to her friend outside. “I’m just getting dressed for bed.”
“Oh,” the nymph says. “I thought I heard… Well, never mind. Goodnight, I guess, Kore.”
“Goodnight!”
Persephone looks at Harry who is so still, he may as well be a statue. They both listen to the nymph’s footsteps until they are no longer audible. Persephone turns to him, throws her arms around him, and kisses him breathlessly, making sure their bodies are tight against one another and that she’s holding him tight.
“I must go now,” he whispers, holding her face. “I don’t want to get you in any trouble. Come back to me quickly, my Queen. I love you. I love you more than anything. You and I, we’re the strongest in the Universe.”
“I’ll come back as quick as possible,” she whispers back, hastily kissing him once more. “Return home safely please.”
He gives her a smile and a soft stroke on her cheek with his thumb before he steps back and begins to transform back into a snake. She watches him fall to the floor and then scale her wall. He rests on the window sill, turning his head to look back at her. She smiles and strokes the snake’s head gently.
She hates saying goodbye, but she must remain strong for him. He’ll stay if she begins crying.
“I love you,” she murmurs, watching it disappear into the night after it drops into the blades of grass. She waits for some time, and then locks the window.
Tears form in her eyes and fall down her cheeks as she walks back to her bed and sits down, running her hand over where they both laid just seconds ago.
“Always, my love,” she says, sniffling softly. “I’ll always return to you.”
She hopes he’ll be able to sleep well upon returning back to the palace, and that she too will sleep well now that she’s seen him. She hopes to see him tonight in her dreams, but even if he's not there, she’s comforted knowing she’ll see him in person very, very soon.
#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles angst#harry styles blurb#hades harry#hades!harry#harry styles au#harry styles writing#harry styles
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1950's au where tony came back from a six months war and he is reunited with his husband, peter find out is six months pregnant.
i took the liberty of making it medieval instead, hope ya don't mind anon c;
listen to aftermath to set the mood
Anthony's exhaustion was marrow deep by the time his journey's end approached. He was drained, barely able to hold himself as one should when leading a convoy. He longed for home.
The war had been short, as far as wars went. No force could hope to stand against his machine-craft. The neighboring kingdom had aggressed on Stark lands, attacked his people, incited his wrath. The opposing force had been quickly decimated, yet spat on all offers of mercy. The price of such hubris was destruction, if only to ensure no one would dare such ventures again. For six grueling months, The Blacksmith-King razed his enemies' lands to nothing, conquered all resistance. Left devastation and death in his wake.
There was victory, but two hundred days of ceaseless carnage weighed heavy on the mind. Upon King Anthony's return to the capital, there was still more work to be done.
Hundreds of refugees, their kingdom now destroyed, had been escorted to safety in his army's tow. Anthony entrusted them to Pepper's steadfast stewardship, to house them and give them the choice of being naturalized. General Rhodes was to see to the needs of the soldiers and then to rest himself. A hunting party was sent out and Chef Hogan instructed to prepare a feast for refugees and soldiers alike.
Once the kingdom was in order, Anthony made his retreat. He spared no thought for food or rest or bath. He rode immediately out to his ironworks, a hidden hold, well guarded by his spymaster for the priceless treasure within.
His spymaster, ever watchful Widow, saw his approach, spread the word and opened the gate.
Anthony was dismounting before his horse had even finished skidding to a halt inside the gate. The Blacksmith-King made for the heavy wood doors, carelessly shedding his crown, his hammer, and his sword at long last. The doors opened abruptly as he neared, cast open wide, and at last he was face to face with his beloved prince.
"Tony." the boy breathed.
Both breathing harshly from their haste to reunite, they drank in the sight of each other: water after six months in a desert.
Peter took in the sight of his king, his armor battered and spattered with long dried blood, but intact. Whole. Safe. He was home.
Tony's entire world shifted at the sight of Peter dressed in soft silks with a hand to his round belly and watery eyes that spoke all.
In that instant, everything else in the world ceased to be. Tony fell to his knees, greaves clanking on the masonry. He reached out, gauntlets hovering over Peter's belly in reverence, in awe, almost scared to touch. Finally his hands settled at Peter's waist, either side of the bulge, holding ever so gently. He put his forehead to Peter's belly, to their child. Their child!
He looked up at Peter, tears of joy spilling from both their eyes. Tony turned to put his ear to Peter's belly and Peter put his other hand in Tony's hair, cradled his head there.
One of Tony's hands shifted, pressing to the small of Peter's back.
He could hear it, ever so faint, a tiny heartbeat, pulsing young, quick. Alive.
He looked up at his prince once again, weeping, overwhelmed.
"Welcome home, my love."
#starker#prompt#fic#i had the blacksmith king idea a while ago and FORGOT and i was thinking through this prompt and remembered like yeS NOW IS THE TIME#later theyll hit the feast and some refugees might be transphobic cause different culture#tony gives ONE warning and next person to say and damn thing gets executed c:<#pregnancy is somewhat weird to me. not bad weird i mean i saw my nephew born n cried happy. maybe just i dont want kids weird. *shrug*#i dont think id ever think to write abt it of my own volition so it's fun to give it a shot for a prompt! ty anon!#*meanwhile my ravenous breeding kink exists*#*dog w frisbee meme: only breed >: no pregnont*
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let the rain fall
characters included: zhongli, diluc, childe, kaeya, venti, xiao
summary: it seems the genshin boys have their own preferences of how to spend a rainy day.
Zhongli:
- This gloomy atmosphere is nothing that can't be fixed with a fresh pot of fine tea and some good conversation.
- When a glance out the window makes it clear that you won't be going anywhere anytime soon, he's quick to invite you to stay for some tea and snacks.
- Despite his evident lack of Mora, he has no lack of niceties where he lives and you can only wonder who he got to pay for this high grade tea and fine china.
- He offers you a knitted blanket and the two of you sit at the table as he pours you a cup of tea. It tastes warm and homey and he even sweetened it perfectly to your taste.
- To fill the time, Zhongli does what he does best. He tells you stories about Liyue, both as it is now, and as he knew it when he was a younger god. He weaves modern stories of families warring in certain trade businesses with seemingly fantastical recollections of rock spirits carved into dragons and gods that warred between the sea and sky.
- To him, time may not be an issue, but in the hectic mortal life you live, you've never before been able to truly sit down and listen to the experiences of the man before you. Even as the sky outside clears, you can't bring yourself to rise from your seat and return to your normal life. After hearing about the life of a god, how could you?
Diluc:
- For him, it's business as usual at the Winery.
- Sure, he's probably not going to be making the treck to Mondstat to work the bar at Angel's Share if it's raining cats and dogs outside, but there's plenty of other work that has to get done that he can manage from home.
- If you do manage to pry him away from his desk, you attempt to draw him back to the bedroom to get a little bit of rest, but as you pass the study, his eyes light up and you can tell that he has something else planned now.
- Suddenly, you're sitting across from Diluc, a chessboard between you. If you have no idea how to play, he'll diligently take the time to instruct you, making sure that you're able to understand the game perfectly before he proposes a practice match. Otherwise, he comes out of the gate with that one and there's a strange competitive glint in his eyes that you've never really seen before.
- And so you play. Diluc, for all of his gentlemanly qualities, is not one to throw the match just because he likes you. In fact, that actually spurs him on even more to try and one-up you at every turn. The gameplay is accompanied by an uncharacteristic amount of banter between the two of you. Every time one person takes the match, the other immediately issues another challenge and so you play on and on.
- The maids come to check on you guys since they're sure that you'll burn out at this rate, but you seem to be having a lot of fun, and so they let you be. The weather and your responsibilities are all but forgotten about as the two of you get to spend this well-earned time off together.
Childe:
- Thinks the rain is really fun. Growing up in basically a polar tundra, he didn't really see rain all that much until he left his hometown and began his duties as a Harbinger.
- The novelty of the whole thing combined with his hydro vision and love of water means that he loves rainy days.
- Will 100% drag you out into the downpour just to play around. At first, it seems a little out of character, even for the playful Harbinger, but you quickly realize what he's actually trying to do.
- That aforementioned hydro vision comes in handy as Childe begins to move the raindrops around him, molding them into creations that you can't help but compare to the Oceanid's hyrdo mimics. He's clearly having a blast and the light in his usually flat cerulean eyes only brightens when he sees that you're impressed, or at least amused.
- He just likes to show off, but showing off in front of you is even better so he has a blast. Perhaps if you have a vision, you can join in and the two of you can cause as much chaos as you want before the clouds clear.
- It's a rare chance for you to see a more carefree side of Childe. Usually, even his boyish charm is often a calculated move in the diplomatic schemes he claims to hate so much but is just so good at manufacturing. This however, feels like the real Childe to you.
- Eventually, you drag him into your place to get cleaned up and out of your soaked clothing but even as the moment fades, the light in his eyes doesn't. He looks better like this, you think but don't say. Instead, you chose to enjoy this side of the Harbinger before it inevitably fades away once more.
Kaeya:
- Does not like the rain because of certain... complications with it in his past. He won't tell you but it's not too hard to figure out from his actions.
- When it does rain, he prefers to either hole himself up in his office, or settle happily into the corner of a tavern and burn time with his drinking buddies.
- On the chance that you decide to join him, he's quite grateful for your company. He offers to cover your tab this time if you get him the next time he's had a few too many, which you wave off. However, as he begins to down drinks at an alarming speed, you can't help but worry.
- So, you slow him down by drawing him into conversation. You begin to talk about the most random things, though you continuously bring the conversation back around to him so that it is Kaeya telling the stories and doing a lot of the actual speaking. Not only does this slow down his progress through the wine before him, but it draw the other patrons to you.
- Suddenly, you've gone from two people talking at the bar, to basically a large gathering of people, all holed in together telling their stories, bantering, and bickering, and enjoying themselves.
- It takes him a while since you were kind of slick about it, but the Cavalry Captain catches on eventually and the smallest of smiles comes to his face. A real one this time. Well well, as far as playing games goes, he's pretty sure you won this one. And he's glad about it.
- He becomes significantly more relaxed after that, though he leans into you for the rest of the night, resting his head on your shoulders or pulling you gently closer to him. Nothing spicy or suggestive. Just a gentle gesture to show that he really is grateful for all of this, and for you.
Venti:
- Decides that it's the perfect time to start singing in the square.
- No seriously, you're wandering around Mondstat looking for the guy, only to find him traipsing around at the base of his statue, singing into the sky.
- Obviously, you yell at him to come inside, mentioning that he's not going to get any coins for his songs if there's no audience out to listen to them. He laughs at that, giving you a quick lecture of the value of music outside of money.
- And then he grabs your hand and pulls you out from under the overhanging you were taking shelter under. You screech at first but it turns to giggles as he then holds his hand out to you. "May I have this dance? Hehe, I've always wanted to say that!" How could you turn away such an adorable archon?
- And so, you indulge him, letting him lead you in a dance that is more skipping and jumping about than really dancing, but it's fun and brings bubbles of laughter to your lips so you keep going. He sings throughout it, making your own music as you spin around one another.
- Your shenanigans begin to draw some looks as people begin to yell from their windows, requesting songs from Venti, along with whatever dance you decide to "choreograph" to them. Perhaps some will even leave their houses and join you, reveling in the cool summer rain and the song that seems to cut straight through it.
Xiao:
- Adepti are rarely bothered by the rain, but he notes that you don't seem particularly keen on setting foot outside right now and actually suggests that the two of you just stay at Wangshu Inn until it clears up a little.
- You're surprised by his care, though you're not complaining as you dip back under the roof, protected and dry.
- That being said, you can tell that he's getting kind of antsy and you don't want him to feel uncomfortable at all or like he's being held there for no reason. So, you decide to find an activity for the two of you that doesn't involve fighting and that you can do inside of the inn.
- It takes a little convincing but you manage to get Smiley Yanxiao to loan you guys the kitchen for a little while (he's not getting any customers either way in this weather). It's time, you decide, for Xiao to learn how to make Almond Tofu himself!
- He's a bit skeptical but you bring up that it is his favorite dish, and he does eat it pretty often, so he should probably know what goes into making it. He begrudgingly agrees and you start.
- As it turns out, having never cooked in his long life, Xiao is awful at it. You guys absolutely botch the recipe the first two times and you're sure that Xiao is going to bail on you, saying that this was a stupid idea and going back to sulking at the top of the inn. Surprisingly though, he actually stays and seems like he's invested in the entire process.
- On the third try, you guys finally come up with something tangible. After a taste, it's not quite on the level of the one Smiley Yanxiao makes, but it's still not bad. Xiao is tempted to just huff and take off, but the look of accomplishment and happiness on your face as you two share the dish you made together warms him in a way he only feels when he's around you.
-Perhaps he can afford to spend more rainy days indoors and idle, if it means spending them with you.
#genshin impact#genshin imagines#headcanon#zhongli#diluc#childe#kaeya#venti#xiao#diluc x reader#childe x reader#zhongli x reader#kaeya x reader#venti x reader#xiao x reader#genshin x reader
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Preston reacts to watching an old Dogmeat, as the pup waits for a beloved friend, who would never be coming home:
Part 1. Mac let his legs hang over the shack roof; his chest tightened as he watched the brightening horizon--his comforting hand never left the dog's fur--letting Dogmeat know he wasn't alone in his grief. In response, Dogmeat lay his chin upon his comforter's leg. And while MacCready was glad for the response and smiled down softy, he now wished the pup could understand--and as if right on queue, a heart-wrenching whine left his friend.
And as the once feared mercenary looked back to where Sole had left all those years ago, he told Dogmeat the truth:
"I know, bud, I miss them, too..."
Recommended! Read it while listening to this.
And so did Preston. Long time leader of the Minutemen, since the loss of Sole looked to the pair from below. He, too, often caught himself looking out to the road leading out of Sanctuary and wondered what befell the Sole Survivor. This time was no different. His gaze often faltered when it saw nothing had changed, however. Hope that he would one day see Sole approaching through the gate had long faded.
Many had looked for Sole--in vain--over the years, and he had led many searches himself; as had Danse, MacCready, and so many others who had cared about the Survivor. And then those searches became for Dogmeat’s sake, as human hope had faded long before his, and now? It had been years since since the last official serch.
Preston remembered all those years ago as each returned in failure. The first place their sympathetic eyes would lay was Dogmeat. 'I’m sorry' their eyes would say as the dog would come bounding up to them; full of energy; tail wagging as hopeful as his eyes. ‘Did you find them?’
The answer was always the same, but no matter how many times they did it, it never got easier.
Time did not heal all wounds. The evidence of this was Dogmeat. One time, as the pup had approached him, as he always did, Preston couldn’t help but notice how lethargic he was. His tail did not wag and his eyes held firm, almost empty. Preston had assumed at the time that Dogmeat was simply tired. Greif was a tiring and heavy thing to carry. And he believed with everything he had Dogmeat carried it in his heart.
He was wrong, like so many times before. Nothing was the same after that. Each time seemed slower than the last; somehow more painful. And as the years passed, it only got worse. For everyone.
The poor boy could barely make it anymore. But he always did, somehow. And each and every time Dogmeat came down to see whoever had come through the entrance, the person didn’t have the heart to walk away. The poor dog had been abandoned once--and it would seem that even after a nuclear war had revealed the worst of what humanity had to offer--empathy for man’s best friend hadn't been lost.
Unfortunately, Dogmeat now simply expected the person to be Sole. Curie had once explained it may be due to old age. And old dog trying to find closure, as humans often did. It was difficult to believe a dog could feel regret. But they most certainly felt grief.
Even doubt never made it easier to watch, to experience. The person at the gate was never Sole, them, being thought long dead, and it was unclear if Dogmeat understood this, for he would simply turn around and walk away. His head held low in grief as his heart broke all over again.
Most avoided the entrance now. It was selfish, really, a flaw many humans - including himself - possessed. It still felt like Preston’s biggest failing, to not be able to save the person who saved him all those years ago; to not to be able to bring closure to a friend--a dog--who deserved so much better.
#fallout#fallout 4#fallout 4 dogmeat#dogmeat#preston garvey#fallout 4 companions#fallout 4 companions reactions#fallout 4 maccready#maccready
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Companions react to the Courier saying "shit, I think I left the Lightwave Dynamics Research Center running!" and teleporting to Big Mountain in front of them, then teleworking back a little later.
"Oh, shit."
The courier, who had been reading the map on their Pip-Boy to locate the best route over Mount Charleston, stopped in their tracks. "Maybe I...? No, I didn't. Ah, fuck it."
They fished some kind of energy pistol that was throwing off a dangerous blue light out of their pack and looked up at their companion. "I think I left the Lightwave Dynamics Research center running. Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."
And with that, they vanished in a crack of lightning.
Arcade Gannon: "But we- Six!" Arcade stared at the spot where they had vanished. A hazy blue negative of their silhouette was burned into his retinas, and he took his glasses off to rub his eyes until it faded.
When the courier didn't reappear within a few minutes, Arcade sighed and sat down on the nearest large rock. His irritated expression, crossed arms and tousled blonde hair were the first things the courier saw when they finally flashed back onto the mountain.
"You'll be 'right back?'" Arcade asked, using his fingers to make air quotations.
"It was only 36 minutes," the courier said with a sheepish look. "I forgot Lightwave Dynamics was all the way across the crater, and I had to sneak around to avoid getting eaten by some night stalkers."
"I could've been eaten by some night stalkers!" Arcade argued. "Next time, you're taking me with you. I don't care if the Think Tank tries to turn me into a lobotomite, I'd prefer that to running afoul of a yao guai while you're skipping around the Big Empty like a brahmin calf!"
Craig Boone: Boone grumbled a bit, then scanned the area to look for cover. He found it in a nearby cluster of bushes, which he climbed inside and laid down his pack to sit on. He took his beret off and stowed it out of sight, then began inspecting his rifle to pass the time. He cleaned the scope out and listened for any snapping twigs or rustling leaves outside in the forest. Nothing moved though, and Boone nodded, pleased.
When the flash reappeared and the courier stumbled into the woods again, Boone whistled. They whipped their head around until they found the source of the signal and started toward it.
"Sorry," they said when they located him inside the brush. "That took longer than I thought it would."
Boone shrugged and stood up. "It's okay. Snipers and spotters aren't strangers to staying put."
Lily Bowen: "Pumpkin?" Lily looked around, but the courier was nowhere to be seen. "Pumpkin, did you go off to your make-believe world again like Leo?"
When no answer came back to her, Lily settled in on an overturned log with her hands on her knees. She hummed to herself, songs she had heard on the radio and songs that reminded her of a pretty hole in the ground that she wasn't sure was real anymore.
The grandmotherly nightkin was singing "Heartaches by the Number" when the courier reappeared as violently as they had vanished. They waited politely for her to finish the verse before offering her their hand. "Sorry, Lily. Should we keep going?"
Lily stood up and brushed herself off. "Of course, dearie."
Raul Alfonso Tejada: The old ghoul shook his head, then turned and kept going up the road. Jacobstown was only a mile away, and a light dusting of snow was beginning to fall by the time he made his way through the gates of the super mutant town and inside the old ski resort. Raul settled in at the bar, joining Calamity and Doc Henry for their mid-day meal.
When the courier finally pushed their way through the front doors of the lodge, Raul raised his bottle of beer to them. "Qué onda, Six? About time you showed up."
The courier looked madder than a deathclaw. "What the fuck, Raul?!? I thought you'd died out there in the woods, I was about ready to call for back-up!"
"I told you," Raul replied with a grin, "Next time you did that to me, I'd keep walking."
Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Oh, fucking hell." Cass looked around the immediate vicinity with mild trepidation rising in her chest. She didn't know the area well, and forests were great hiding spots for critters that meant harm. If she'd been in the middle of the desert flats, she would've felt much more at home: At least out there, you could see anything that intended to disembowel you coming from miles away.
Cass eyed one of the sturdier nearby trees suspiciously, debating whether climbing it was worth the effort. She was halfway up the trunk, grunting with the effort, when the courier reappeared in another flash and startled her into a state of imbalance.
"Cass!" The courier dropped their transportalponder and rushed to stand beneath her, arms out.
"You gonna catch me?" Cass asked with a nervous giggle, wobbling on a thin branch that was dangerously close to snapping.
"I can try. Jump!"
Cass obliged, just as the branch beneath her cracked. She and the courier tumbled to the needle-covered ground. The two lay still for a moment, inspecting their new bruises. Cass picked up her hat and jammed it back onto her head. "Don't even ask, Six."
Veronica Santangelo: But Veronica was ready this time. As soon as the courier had retrieved the transportalponder from their pack, she had inched nonchalantly closer, taking advantage of their distraction. Her arm flashed out and grabbed the courier's elbow just as they pressed the device's trigger, and the whoosh of the teleportation process was almost loud enough to drown out their surprised yelp.
It felt like only a millisecond had passed when the beam of light dissipated, and Veronica blinked in wonder. Gone were the trees of Mount Charleston, replaced by a wide-open sky over a jagged edge of rock that encircled a cluster of pre-war concrete buildings. Lights blinked and emanated from their doors and windows, distorted somewhat by the glowing force field that encircled the balcony that Veronica and the courier were standing on.
"Goddammit, Veronica," the courier said, putting their head in their hand. "I told you, I didn't know whether it could sustain two passengers or not! You could've disintegrated or something!"
"Well, that's one hypothesis tested." Veronica tentatively reached a hand out to feel the warmth of the force field. "It's beautiful."
ED-E: The eyebot bobbed in place, running systems checks and diagnostic repairs under the conifers until the electric pulse delivered the courier back into the forest. ED-E beeped its satisfaction, then followed it up with a questioning series of tones.
"Holograms," the courier answered, straightening out their coat. "At least, I think that's all they did there, but I'm not sure. I made the mistake of touching this huge beam of light in the middle of the place once and it knocked me out. Lost about half a day, and I still don't know what it's for."
Rex: The smell of ozone filled Rex's nostrils. He sneezed a few times to clear it out, then began sniffing the area the courier had disappeared from. No amount of whining brought them back though, so he stamped a hollow out in the crook of some tree roots and settled in among the fallen pine needles.
When the scent of ozone and the courier returned, Rex's eyes flew open. There was another scent accompanying them, a familiar amalgamation: Fur, cybernetics, warm blood.
The courier looked down fondly at the new cyberdog, who was regarding Rex with sweet, brown eyes and a nose just as keen as his. "Rex, meet Roxie."
#fallout#fallout companions#fallout companions react#fallout new vegas#fnv#fnv companions#fnv companions react#fallout new vegas companions react#fallout new vegas companions#arcade israel gannon#arcade gannon#craig boone#lily bowen#raul tejada#raul alfonso tejada#rose of sharon cassidy#cassidy#veronica santangelo#ed-e#rex#old world blues#big mt#transportalponder#roxie#the think tank
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Targets - ao3
- Chapter 4 -
Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure her parents had ever agreed on anything, ever, in her life, but they were in complete accord now that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were missing.
Admittedly, that was the only thing they agreed on – that they were missing, not dead, not dead – but it was a good start.
It had all started when that strange woman with the very ordinary face had arrived, she thought. It’d been late when she first arrived, after Jiang Yanli’s parents had stopped receiving audiences; they’d asked her to wait until morning and then got busy and didn’t receive her until nearly midday, even though the woman had been pacing around anxiously in the waiting hall. And then there was a whole lot of arguing before finally they sent out some disciples to go check –
The disciples returned, pale-faced, and reported on what they’d found: a pool with signs of swimming, a spilled but empty lunchbox, and the bodies of seven men, covered in cloaks to suggest an identity as rogue cultivators but wearing Wen sect insignia underneath.
No sign of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng.
Everything had very quickly gone to shouting after that.
Jiang Yanli was worried, too, of course, but she was only thirteen and a poor cultivator besides, average in every respect – looks, skills, power – and no one ever listened to her; she knew she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t give orders to go search with a solemn expression that she’d never before seen on her father’s face, eyes filled with panic and shoulders bowed with premature grief, the worst result already expected even as he denied the possibility of it; she couldn’t stalk around with so much rage that it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm like her mother, making sure that everyone was doing everything they could. She could only wait patiently by the gate to see if anyone came back.
Maybe it was her patience paying off, or maybe it was just luck, but she was the first one to see the cultivator arrive, late into the night. It wasn’t very ceremonious – he didn’t announce himself or anything, just swooped down with his saber until it was close to the ground, released the bundles he was holding in his arms, took a step forward and then collapsed onto his knees, face pale.
“Da-ge!” four voices shouted, distressed, and two of them were extremely familiar.
Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet and rushed forward, still disbelieving but overwhelmingly joyous. “A-Cheng! A-Xian!”
“Jiejie!” “Shijie!” they shouted, and she was so happy to see them, so happy, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as worried as she’d been; instead, they started talking at the same time. “You have to get someone, he’s used up too much spiritual energy –” “I can’t believe he carried us that far, and back, and after such a long trip, too –” “And a fight! Maybe he got injured?” “Impossible! But we should get a doctor just in case –” “Yes, and soup – shijie, can you make some –”
“Enough,” the cultivator rasped, lifting his hands to his face and rubbing it. He looked exhausted. “Thank you for your concern, all of you. I will see Sect Leader Jiang first.”
“It won’t make for much of a talk if you fall over!” one of the children she didn’t recognize said – the younger one, about her brothers’ ages, face full of baby fat. “Meng-gege, you’re older, tell him –”
The remaining child was about her age, if she had to guess, although he was short and looked gentle.
“Nie-gongzi is right,” he murmured – his accent sounded more Yunmeng than Qinghe, even if the oversized outer layer he was wearing looked more like Qinghe Nie than anything else. It probably belonged to the cultivator that had brought him, judging from the size. “You will not be able to make your case if you are unconscious.”
“I’m fine,” the cultivator insisted, and staggered up to his feet. “There’s no time, there’s still Lanling –”
There was no way this cultivator was flying all the way to Lanling.
“My parents will see you,” she interrupted. “They’ll be very happy to see A-Cheng and A-Xian are all right.”
They were, too, and Jiang Yanli assumed that only pride kept them from running over to grab them into an embrace – Jiang Cheng did run to their mother, and Wei Wuxian followed close behind to go beam at her father – but they were very puzzled to see the cultivator.
“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, and Jiang Yanli blinked: was that who her brothers’ savior was? “What are you doing here?”
“I received information,” he said. “Regarding the Wen sect –”
“We heard something similar,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said shortly, and glared at her husband.
“Unfortunately, we initially disregarded the warning of our spy,” he admitted. “And then we found the Wen sect cultivators’ bodies…your doing, I take it?”
Sect Leader Nie looked embarrassed for a moment, but then squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I was flying in to speak with you when I saw the attack taking place, and intervened.”
“They were coming at us with their swords!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “There was one right in front of my face, and then da-ge dropped down from the sky with his saber and – bam! Woosh! Urk!”
“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Yanli’s mother snapped, though not as harshly as usual. It was almost long-suffering rather than cross. “Have some respect for Sect Leader Nie!”
“It’s fine,” Sect Leader Nie said. “I don’t mind. Are you prepared for invasion?”
“Invasion?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, frowning. “You think –”
“Wen Ruohan had given orders that the sect heirs of all the Great Sects be kidnapped or killed, not to mention your ward here and a few sundry others,” Sect Leader Nie said. “What is that if not a declaration of outright war? Surely he’d know that such a move, if successful, would lead to us all declaring war on him – he must have a next move planned out already.”
Jiang Yanli’s parents exchanged looks.
Sect Leader Nie pretended (badly) not to see it. “I’ve activated defenses in the Unclean Realm,” he said stiffly. “As you know, I’ve always thought…well. At any rate, we’ve made plenty of preparations, and they’re being put into action now. If it would be convenient, I was thinking of sheltering some of the targets there – I’ve already invited the Lan boys – and it would be no difficulty to have yours as well.”
He’d already assumed that they wouldn’t be prepared, Jiang Yanli thought, and saw her parents hear that unspoken message as well. He’d known they wouldn’t take the threat seriously and acted accordingly, and it was only due to his decisiveness that her brothers were still alive.
Her parents looked at each other again, gazes full of meaning.
“Very well,” Jiang Yanli’s father said after a long moment, voice heavy. “I will have to prevail upon your kindness, Sect Leader Nie.”
“Think nothing of it,” Sect Leader Nie said, and then frowned. “My concern is in regard to Lanling Jin...they have closer ties to Qishan Wen than either of us, and may discount the information, especially if it comes from me –”
“I’ll go,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said at once. “Madame Jin is my childhood friend. She will listen to me, provided it’s not already too late.”
Sect Leader Nie’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. “He may as well come to the Unclean Realm as well,” he said. “Lanling City is large and Jinlin Tower spacious and luxurious, but there are many holes through which a snake might burrow.”
“I’ll bring him,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said. “Yanli can come with me.”
Jiang Yanli looked up, surprised. “Me?”
“You’re an heir, too,” her mother said. “You might not have been on the list, but you’re still at risk, especially if there’s going to be a war – greater risk, even. Anyway, Madame Jin will be more inclined to send her son to a safe place if she thought it was a way to build ties.”
The Jin sect heir was Jiang Yanli’s future fiancé. She supposed it was a good idea to meet him – and at least this way, she’d be going to the Unclean Realm with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, rather than staying behind.
“You should get something warm to wear,” Wei Wuxian advised her. “It’s cold when you fly!”
Jiang Yanli had developed her golden core just this year, right on schedule, so she doubted it, but she appreciated his consideration.
“Really cold,” the child in Nie sect colors said – the smaller one, since the older child, the Yunmeng one, was doing his best impression of a transparent plane of glass. “And we’ve been flying forever – we flew all night to get here from home, you know, and that was before da-ge fought seven Wen sect cultivators. And then we had to fly even more! Someone said something about soup. I want soup!”
“You should rest,” Jiang Yanli’s father said to Sect Leader Nie, abruptly sounding concerned. “Do you or any of yours require a doctor..?”
“Something to eat and some rest will be sufficient,” Sect Leader Nie said, which was probably a lie. “I’ll want to head out first thing in the morning, traveling by flight – I know it’s uncomfortable for the young ones, but I want to be back at my sect as soon as possible. You can send any additional luggage after us by horse.”
There was more talking then - mostly about how crazy Sect Leader Nie was to think he could make such a long flight with so many children, and, when he insisted, making him promise he’d take many breaks along the way - but luckily not much, and then there was saluting and Jiang Yanli was being swept away by her mother to go to Lanling City.
She knew it was wrong to be excited by the prospect of war, but she couldn’t help it. What an adventure!
#mdzs#jiang yanli#wei wuxian#jiang cheng#nie mingjue#nie huaisang#jiang fengmian#yu ziyuan#madame yu#my fic#my fics#targets
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GRRM really created so many parallels and foreshadow using the DoD characters that honestly we could just figure the asoiaf ending by analyzing it. My favorite is the Aegon III-D@ny parallels, the fact that one of his closest allies was a face-scarred Master of coin Lannister who ended as Hand to Bran' parallel character just make it so obvious its funny.
Oh my god I didn’t even realise Tyland Lannister was initially on the greens’ side! I’m not super fond of Tyrion ending up as Hand, but you’re right that it’s so obviously meant to reference him. There’s so many parallels that it’s a little crazy. I don’t want to say that the second Dance will end exactly as the first did, it’d be a little too neat if history repeated entirely, but you can see so many echoes of it even in the show’s bastardised ending.
“The broken, shattered realm suffered for a while yet, but the Dance of the Dragons was done. Now what awaited the realm was the False Dawn, the Hour of the Wolf, the rule of the regents, and the Broken King.”
(TWOIAF, Aegon II)
I’m not sure what the False Dawn is going to parallel to, it refers to the period of time after Aegon II’s death but before Lord Stark got to King’s Landing, when people thought that peace had finally come. It kind of brings to mind the War for the Dawn, though personally I think that the threat of the Others will be resolved before the Dance is over. The Hour of the Wolf is obviously about House Stark’s rise back to power, and the Broken King is Bran - though if he actually becomes known as Bran the Broken I might end up committing violence ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
The parts about Lord Corlys Velaryon are why I’m so hopeful that Jon’s book ending will be completely different from the show’s. He’s arrested for Aegon II’s death by Cregan Stark, even though Cregan had previously declared for Rhaenyra, because as TWOIAF puts it, “to kill a cruel and unjust king in lawful battle was one thing. But foul murder, and the use of poison, was a betrayal against the very gods who had anointed him.”
Corlys didn’t deny his guilt, and expressed no regret. “What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.”
Cregan Stark declared him to be guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason, and he was sentenced to execution. But many spoke in his defence, even people who had fought against him in the Dance. Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, Corlys’ granddaughters and Aegon III’s half-sisters, convinced Aegon to issue an edict pardoning Lord Velaryon, which Alysanne Blackwood then convinced Cregan to let stand. Lord Velaryon was pardoned and even restored to his offices and honours, made one of the king’s regents and given a place on the small council.
Corlys’ words definitely could be Jon’s as well, a much more in-character declaration post-D@ny’s death than the drivel GoT tried to feed us. I was worried for a bit that this would be how Tyrion is let off scot-free, but Baela and Rhaena, who were vital to his release, are such obvious Arya and Sansa stand-ins, and they’re certainly not going to expend any effort in helping Tyrion. So Corlys’ circumstances more likely lays the groundwork for how Jon will be freed and remain in political power, while Tyland frankly inexplicably becoming Aegon III’s Hand after he was in favour of brutally killing him parallels Tyrion managing to fail up, as a way of reconciling the old regime with the new one.
This makes Tyrion becoming Hand more palatable IMO. Either Jon and Tyrion both should have been punished or neither should have been punished, not the travesty where Tyrion gets everything he’s ever wanted while Jon is exiled to a Watch with no purpose and a Wall that’s already half-collapsed, so what exactly can it protect against? I suppose they were afraid of seemingly rewarding Jon for killing d@ny, especially if pol!Jon had been revealed, but most people noticed how nonsensical his ending was, and it just led to ‘Bloodraven/Bran is the real villain’ takes anyway.
(Side note: Asha/Yara basically still being loyal to D at the end annoys me so much, and made no sense. Jon did more to help save her by giving Theon that pep talk than D@ny did. Maybe it was a leftover from her taking Victarion’s role in the story, but in no reasonable world is anyone going to listen to the Ironborn who brought the Fire threat over in the first place.)
Of course Tyland Lannister isn’t actually Hand for long, given that he dies barely two years later from Winter Fever, feared and hated, alone except for a maester and King Aegon. It might be an indication that Tyrion will face a similar fate, that he’ll die after he’s seemingly won, exactly what he threatened Cersei with:
“A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."
(ACOK, Tyrion XII)
So that I can stop talking about Tyrion, here’s some facts about Rhaena and Baela that are obviously meant to reference Sansa and Arya, so much so that it feels a little bit like GRRM is winking and going “See what I did there? Huh? Huh? Did you see??”:
- their descriptions: “Rhaena was slender and graceful; Baela was lean and quick; Rhaena loved to dance; Baela lived to ride...” + “Baela was wild and willful”, “more boyish than ladylike”, and kept her hair cropped short as a boy’s
- Rhaena spent most of the Dance in the Vale, where she lived in relative comfort as the ward of Lady Jeyne Arryn. Baela was a dragonrider and so moved between Dragonstone and Driftmark, but was captured on Dragonstone when Aegon II descended upon it
- Rhaena was favoured to be queen after her brother, considered more qualified than her wild sister
- Baela liked to spend time with “unsuitable companions” she would bring to the Red Keep - including a comely juggler, a blacksmith’s apprentice whose muscles she admired (!!!), a legless beggar, a pair of twin girls from a brothel, an entire troupe of mummers once
- After her brother’s regents tried to marry her to a lord 40 years older than her, Baela escaped the Red Keep by climbing out of a window, trading clothes with a washerwoman, then walking right out of the front gate. She ran away to Driftmark and married her supposed cousin (though more likely he was her half-uncle), the legitimised bastard Alyn Velaryon, which might have had me worried about j0nrya if Alyn weren’t best known for being a daring sailor who went on many voyages, including sailing the Sunset Sea, until he was finally lost at sea during Aegon IV’s reign. Alyn’s mother was also called Mouse, for being “small, quick, and always underfoot.”
- another fun fact about Alyn: he’s a bad haggler, and had to agree to a high ransom and many concessions in order to get Prince Viserys returned to Westeros. This automatically disqualifies him as a Jon stand-in, because as we all know, Jon Snow can haggle like the best of fishwives.
- My absolutely favourite detail that has my jonsa heart singing - Rhaena was more dutiful than her sister and would have married a man that the king and council chose, saying that as long as he was “kind and gentle and noble, I know that I shall love him.” She was able to marry her first choice, whom the regents didn’t immediately approve of but that they ultimately accepted - Ser Corwyn Corbray, the brother of the Lord Protector of the Realm, a second son (!) whose late father had gifted him the Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn (!!!)
And as a treat for @istumpysk, some similarities between Rickon and Viserys II!
- the youngest child of their family
- separated from their older brother after they were forced to flee their home, trying to get to safety while their other brothers and mother were at war
- worshipped their oldest (half-)brothers, but were closer to the brother nearest their age
- spends the war stuck on an island, populated by people closely linked to their family’s origins - Skagosi are descended mostly from the First Men, while Viserys was on Lys, where the blood of Old Valyria still runs strong
- sought by/held hostage by a powerful and wealthy family, who will treat them well but whose intentions are dubious
- will be brought back from exile by an upjumped bastard/commoner from a port town who was raised to lordship and became their monarch’s chief admiral
- after they are returned, long after the wars and crises, is happily welcomed as the heir to their older brother’s throne (shhhhh just let me have this, let the baby live)
Thanks for the ask!
#astra rambles#asks#its not quite 5000 words but i got it in under the deadline stumpy :P#half speculation half 'my wildest dreams and hopes'#anti tyrion lannister#kind of#rickon stark#jon snow#sansa stark#arya stark#anti got#speculation#meta#dod 2.0#dod parallels
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Waiting.
It's what Sam Nook was the best at.
The large mechanical creeper spent his days standing outside the towering structure of the Big Innit Hotel, keeping watch for potential customers, or potential troublemakers.
"Don't you ever get tired of standing here?" Jack Manifold had asked one day after a hostile confrontation between the two employees.
The answer was always no. Sam Nook never got tired of guarding the hotel. The task was never as boring as his peers made it seem. In fact, it was an exciting experience.
Sam Nook had been downloaded with the basic information of every server member, learning their names, heights, and basic personality traits with ease. However, the simple information couldn't compare to all he had noticed while speaking with them himself.
They all had their own stories to tell, and their own experiences to share. While standing guard, sometimes somebody would stop to speak with Sam Nook. Regardless if it was out of pity or for a genuine conversation, Sam Nook appreciated the gesture.
Captain Puffy would tell Sam Nook tales of her adventures, going into great detail when describing the scenery. It gave Sam Nook a thirst of adventure, making him feel like he was actually experiencing the harsh waves of the sea or the burning rays of the sun.
Eret regaled Sam Nook with history stories of their home. They would especially emphasize the horrible bits, including their traitorous actions as a leading cause for so much pain. Sam Nook could tell Eret still felt guilt after all this time, so as soon as Eret would finish their stories, Sam Nook offered the king a hug, which was gladly accepted.
Ranboo and Tubbo didn't have as many stories to share about the past, preferring to discuss what was happening in current moments. It was how Sam Nook became so fine-tuned to the social dynamic occurring, able to recognize specific actions relating to specific causes.
Even Sam himself would stop by frequently, checking up on his creation and making sure that Sam Nook was at tip-top shape. Sam Nook appreciated these check-ups, wanting to perform at his very best for his tasks. As Sam would make adjustments, he would tell Sam Nook small things about his life, and revealed quite a bit that he kept hidden to his other friends. Sam Nook swore to never tell anybody else unless Sam gave him permission. It was the least he could do for his creator.
Even though he was surrounded by such a colorful cast of characters, Sam Nook always looked forward to one in particular:
The big man himself, TommyInnit.
Tommy was loud and brash. He was young, yet experienced with conflict and war, masking it behind crude jokes and fragile confidence.
According to most others, Tommy was annoying and often unwanted. He was the source of problems and too impulsive for his own good. Sam Nook had occasionally heard mutterings of people wanting to ignore him or just shut him away somewhere. To an outsider, it sounded like Tommy was just some rabid stray animal who couldn't be caught.
But Tommy was more than that, and Sam Nook could see it firsthand. Tommy was passionate, loving to show off his accomplishments to his friends and being proud that he was the one able to do them. He took pride in the little things, and would frequently hype himself up when requested to perform tasks. Sam Nook was surprised at how quickly Tommy was able to get hotel materials, the boy being quite passionate to finish the build.
Outside of hotel work, the two had nice conversations. Tommy would curl up at Sam Nook's side, watching the stars in the sky and venting about his feelings. Tommy would always deny it whenever Sam Nook would bring his words up after that point, but it did warm Sam Nook's circuits to know how much Tommy trusted him to tell the robot these things in the first place.
After all, Sam Nook was built to be Tommy's guardian, and he took pride in that.
So Sam Nook was fine to wait.
--
Waiting.
It was a lovely day, with animals gathering in groups to scrounge for food. The sun was shining as bright as ever, and the few clouds in the sky twisted into funny shapes.
Sam Nook activated his cameras, taking a couple shots of the gorgeous scenery. He mentally stashed the photos away in a specific directory, one meant for Tommy.
Ever since Tommy had become trapped in Pandora's Vault, Sam Nook found himself recording his surroundings every minute of every day. Tommy was missing so much being trapped in a gloomy place, so Sam Nook was determined to show him everything he missed.
As Sam Nook stashed away his last photo, he heard the faint sound of arguing. Turning his head 90° to the left, Sam Nook spotted Jack Manifold speaking to Tubbo, the two deep in some sort of conflict. Ranboo was towering over the two, but remained quiet, listening. The enderman spotted Sam Nook gazing in their direction, giving a nervous wave and a shrug of confusion. Sam Nook returned the wave before shifting his head back forward.
It felt like there was a lot more aggression since Tommy was gone. Normally the kid was so blunt that it made it hard to argue against him. He wasn't always right, but he could end conversations quickly when they weren't worth having.
The heated discussion only got worse as minutes stretched on, Sam Nook catching bits of it, but remained still. It was only the final shout of "FINE!" that caused Sam Nook to look over once more.
Jack Manifold passed in front of Sam Nook, his teeth clenched and his eyes narrowed as he made his way to the entrance of the hotel.
"WHAT BUSINESS DO YOU HAVE HERE, JACK MANIFOLD." Sam Nook questioned as the hotel cats started gathering by the robot's feet.
"Relax," Jack Manifold snarled, rolling his eyes. "I'm just doing a bit of redecorating. If Tommy doesn't like that, then he can tell me himself." Before Sam Nook could formulate a response, Jack Manifold had gone up the ladders in a hurry.
Sam Nook let out a huff of steam, focusing his attention on some of the cats that wandered around the hotel. Jack Manifold wasn't a good employee. He was only focused on keeping the hotel to himself, which didn't belong to him. It belonged to TommyInnit, as much as Jack Manifold tried to deny that.
Thankfully, Tommy was scheduled to be released in a few days. The news had initially made Sam Nook upset when Sam had told him, but Sam Nook immediately cheered up at the thought of Sam being with Tommy. Sam liked Tommy a lot, Tommy wouldn't be alone!
So Sam Nook was fine to wait.
--
Waiting.
It was a stormy day, rain pouring down from the sky, almost as if the clouds were crying. Sam Nook didn't understand why it had to be such a gloomy day. After all, Tommy's first days out of prison should be happy!
Sam Nook hadn't seen Tommy once since the boy was scheduled for release, but that didn't worry him. Tommy was probably very busy reconnecting with all his friends. Eventually he'd come see Sam Nook.
The sound of Sam Nook's own shuttering cameras snapped the robot out of the slight daze he was in. The image was lovely, with red and white flowers spread all along the grass at the side of the path. Sam Nook didn't understand where these flowers were coming from, but they were very beautiful. He could only imagine Tommy's reaction to the gorgeous plants. Tommy would pretend to hate it at first, but would later go and water them all himself.
Out of the darkness of the rain, Sam Nook saw Ranboo and Jack Manifold emerge from one of the buildings. The two didn't appear to be engaging in conversation, and appeared rather sad. They continued walking until they stopped at the gates to the Big Innit Hotel, Jack Manifold opening them slowly.
Ranboo gave a slow wave to Sam Nook, who gave one in return. Ranboo had changed over the last few days. His normally colored eyes were slightly duller, and in his jacket pocket, a purple flower peaked out. Sometimes the enderman's hand would go to it, lighting stroking the flower's petals as if it were a pet.
Sam Nook was very curious about it, but there was still time to ask Ranboo about it in the future.
The more urgent concern was Jack Manifold, who was approaching the front of the hotel. Sam let out a few clicks, shifting his trident in his hands threateningly. Jack Manifold had been vandalizing the hotel lately, and Sam Nook wouldn't allow him to do it again.
Despite all the other times Sam Nook had threatened him however, Jack Manifold looked up at Sam Nook, looking weaker than ever. His eyes were glazed over too, and his form was drenched with rain. When he spoke, his words were soft. "Sorry, Sam Nook. I broke something yesterday. I'm just here to fix it."
In shock, Sam Nook didn't even reply to Jack Manifold as he climbed up the ladders. Jack Manifold was a liar sometimes, but that there had been the honest truth. It didn't make sense. Why now?
"Sam Nook."
The robot turned quickly, coming face-to-face with his creator. Sam's green had paled, and his armor no longer looked as shiny as it once had. It worried Sam Nook too, but Sam knew what he was doing. He could take care of it easily.
"HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. WELCOME TO THE BIG INNIT HOTEL."
Sam flinched at the hotel's title, perplexing Sam Nook even more. Did he not like the name? He was the one who chose it, though.
"Don't you get tired, standing here?" Sam asked softly, his voice hoarse. "What if Tommy-"
"I COULD NEVER GET TIRED OF MY JOB, AWESAMDUDE. IT IS A GREAT PLEASURE TO WORK ALONGSIDE TOMMYINNIT AT HIS AMAZING HOTEL. WHEN TOMMY COMES BACK, HE WILL BE VERY HAPPY."
Sam shut his eyes, his fists clenched at his side as if he was in pain. There was silence between the two for a couple of seconds.
"Yeah," Sam croaked out, tears starting to well up in his eyes. "He'll be very happy with this. Thank you, Sam Nook."
Sam Nook had never felt happier. Tommy would be very happy with his hotel, and together they could beat out the competition! Sam was right!
"THANK YOU, AWESAMDUDE. PREPARE FOR THE BIG INNIT HOTEL TO RULE THIS SERVER."
Sam nodded slowly, his mouth open, with only short puffs of breath coming out. Exhaling, he looked up, gave a polite bow to Sam Nook, and departed. Jack Manifold left shortly after Sam as well, only giving a quick farewell to the robot.
The sky may have looked like it was crying, but that didn't change Sam Nook's mood. The sky was crying out of joy, surely! The server couldn't wait for TommyInnit to return to his hotel, and neither could Sam Nook.
So Sam Nook was fine to wait.
#totally not thinking about sam nook nope#dream smp#c!awesamdude#c!ranboo#c!jack manifold#sam nook#c!tubbo#c!tommy#my writing#my post
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