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orange-yarn · 3 years

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stonegrot week day 7: the future

heyo, friends. breaking my accidental hiatus to actually participate in @stonegrotweek for once!

for the record, this is set in my strange trails “good timeline” sequel? you might be missing some context if you haven’t read the behemoth that is strange trails. you might be missing some context even if you have read it. that’s fine.

I wrote most of this earlier this summer, but spent some time editing & tweaking this weekend. please note: it is still very much a rough draft, but I have miles to go before I can actually post any sequel stuff on ao3 so that’s okay. I just wanted to share something for the event.

WARNINGS: some light sexytimes (there is actually a steamier version that will live in my google docs forever). also, mentions of childbirth (not at all graphic).

anyway, on that note, here you go. a little glimpse into a stonegrot future, in approximately 1500 words.

-+-

Jen turns three, and a storm tears the sky in two. Deet watches the sky growing dark, shivers when the lightning flashes and the winds howl. Rian knows she’s weathered storms before, in this life, and in another. She’s lived, and she’s loved, and she’s lost. This time, though, in this storm— she breaks.

“Tell me what to do,” Rian pleads, holding her hands tight, trying to hold her steady, to hold her to this moment, to this life, to him. He’s seen her scared, he’s seen her lost and distant, but he’s never seen her so desperate, and he’s afraid. “I’ll do anything, Deet, I swear it. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need--” Deet breaks off, her breaths gasping, her eyes wild. She’s clinging right back, clinging to him, and he takes comfort from that. “I need to know it’s different this time. I need to know this is real. I need to feel it.”

“This is real,” Rian swears, pressing his forehead to hers, hoping his gestures might match his words, but feeling like both must be meaningless. “We’re real, Deet. You’re real.”

Deet pulls back and looks up at him, close enough that their breaths intermingle. One hand comes up to cup his neck, and she runs her thumb along his jawline-- the other drops down to his belt, and then traces lower. She holds his gaze and says, “Show me.”

Rian denied her once, long trine past, and he vowed then to never do it again. He blows out the candles, and lets Deet lead him to their bed. He helps her out of her dress, and then everything else. She returns the favor and then pulls him down with her, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s as sweet as it is desperate.

They don’t speak. Rian tries to prove with touch what his words cannot say-- that she is precious, that he is devoted. He loses himself in the moment, in her, and lets the rest of it fall away.

-+-

The storms come again, later that summer. If Rian didn’t know better he’d think they were still down in the Sog, battening down the hatches and weathering another monsoon. Winds howl and branches break, rain pounds against the roof of their home, lightning splits the sky as thunder rumbles in the distance.

Deet is silent for three days, jumping at every noise, staring blankly out the windows when she can’t keep busy enough for her mind to be still. On the third day, she puts Jen down for his afternoon nap, and walks straight out into the rain. Rian catches up before she’s made it off the porch, and tangles their fingers together, squeezing her hand tight.

“Hey,” he says, trying to calm the thunder in his own chest, his hammering heart. It isn’t fair, he thinks. It isn’t fair that they unraveled the world where he left her, but she still sees those ghosts. “It’s alright, Deet. I’m here, remember? I’m here.”

Deet opens her mouth, but her words are still trapped, still lost. She squeezes his hand back, and he lets himself relax, if only a fraction. Then she shifts her grip until she’s holding his wrist, and presses his hand to her stomach, holds it there. There’s no sign yet of the new life inside her, just a voice in the back of his mind that whispers three. Rian swallows, and Deet tries to catch his eye.

For a moment, his words are trapped too. He wraps his arms around her instead, pulling her into an embrace, and wishing he never had to let go.

-+-

“Let me get this straight,” Naia says, dropping her voice low-- so the others can’t hear them in the other room, and so Rian will hear her frustration. “Deet suffered a breakdown, the worst you’ve ever seen-- and your solution was to get her pregnant again?”

“That is--” Rian shoots a nervous glance out the door towards the others-- specifically watching for the flick of Grottan ears. So far so good, he thinks, as their friends chatter around Deet and her swollen belly. She’d put off telling them until this trip-- Rian thinks she might have put it off longer, if she wasn’t already halfway through her pregnancy and very visibly showing. He wonders if she was trying to save them both from exactly this sort of conversation.

He clears his throat and tries again. “That’s not exactly how it happened. She wanted another childling.” He thinks of that night, of Deet pulling him back towards her, her voice husky and her eyes on him, and only him, as she asked him to stay. “This was her idea.”

Naia stares at him, hard, for the span of several seconds. She’s clearly still frustrated, but she’s looking for a new target. “You should have come down sooner,” she finally settles on, nodding a little to herself as she sinks into the argument, like a comfortable pair of boots. “I could have been checking up on them both.”

“They’ve been alright, Naia. Everything’s been fine.” Rian pauses, and sees something unfamiliar in Naia’s eyes, a level of concern he hasn’t seen often. “What’s the matter? Why are you taking this so hard?”

“I’m not,” Naia snaps, and just like that her eyes narrow and her brow furrows. “You’re my friends, Rian. I want Deet to be well. I want your childling to be well. And I want the two of you to be happy.” She still looks cross, but there’s an honesty there that he appreciates. “Would you fault me for that?”

“Of course not.” Rian can’t quite help it, he pulls Naia into a brief hug, and graciously she lets him. Once he’s pulled away, he clears his throat and asks, “For what it’s worth, Deet’s going to ask you to help her again, when the baby comes. You’re the only one she trusts.” Naia’s eyes flicker again, with that same sad expression. For a split second Rian almost, almost understands why, and just as quickly, that understanding is gone. “If you’re up for it,” he adds, a little uneasy.

“I’ll be there,” Naia promises, her voice soft, her eyes still sad. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-+-

“No, she’s right….here!” Deet says, guiding Jen’s chubby handprint to her side, her tired smile growing wide as his face lights up with delight. “Can you feel that?”

“She kicked me!” Jen’s practically vibrating with excitement. With just a few weeks left, Rian can see the ripples of movement in the taut skin of Deet’s round, heavy belly as their childling moves within her, apparently feeling Jen’s presence, and making her own known. Jen gasps, his eyes going even wider. “Again!”

“She’s saying hello,” Deet tells him, glancing over their son’s head to lock eyes with Rian. Her smile is warm, and just for him. She turns back to Jen, and reaches out to ruffle his hair. “She’s excited to meet you.”

“Are you ready to be a big brother?” Rian asks, flashing a grin of his own as Jen scrambles for the fair-haired little doll Deet made. He holds her carefully, just the way they showed him. Deet lets out a soft chuckle, and Rian leans in to press three kisses-- one to the top of Jen’s head, one to Deet’s lips, and one to her belly. His family, right where he wants him-- close enough for him to reach out and hold them tight.

-+-

“Why was that harder?” Deet asks, winded and breathless and a little delirious, even as Naia lays the infant on her chest. “I’d already done it once, shouldn’t it be-- oh. Hello, baby.” Her tone changes in an instant, complaint and confusion falling away as she smooths a hand across wispy hair, blonde streaked with blue. The baby blinks up at them with deep brown eyes. She has Rian’s olive skin and teal streaked across her brow. She’s beautiful, and she’s quiet. “Why isn’t she crying?”

“Just give her a minute.” Naia has a towel in hand, rubbing at the baby’s back vigorously. “She’s had a big day.” She helps Deet sit the baby up, and rubs a little more, until the little one lets out a watery cough, and starts to wail. It’s the best sound Rian has ever heard. Deet lets out a sigh of relief, and Naia grins at all three of them. “See? All is well.”

-+-

They name her Shoni. She doesn’t look much like his mother, but it still feels right, somehow, to pass on that name, to let it live on through his daughter. She’s perfect, from her long, dark lashes to each and every finger and toe, and she and Deet are both perfectly healthy. It feels like a miracle.

“Thank you,” Deet breathes, in the quiet of their room, with their childling nursing at her breast, and snow piling up outside their window. “Thank you, for reminding me.”

Rian doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. He just winds an arm around Deet’s shoulder, holding his girls close. Outside, the wind howls as the storm picks up, but for once Deet doesn’t shiver. She just sinks into him, her breathing calm and even. Rian knows that the struggle isn’t over, knows that more storms will come, that the two of them will bend, and may break. But for now, he presses a kiss to her hair, gentle, and grounding, and Deet closes her eyes, and rests.

-+-

#the dark crystal #dark crystal #stonegrot #stonegrot week #day 7 #strange trails

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mintmatcha · 3 years

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10 Months

Matsukawa and Hanamaki

Part One

CW: mentions of death and illness, ANGST

Today’s just another day at work. Someone’s dead and someone else is talking about it.

The worst part of the job, Mattsun decides, isn’t consoling the grieving or dealing with the aftermath of death: it’s listening to these shitty, repetitive speeches. There’s only so many times a man can hear about God’s plan and how much better someone is now that they’ve entered the great beyond before he goes numb. Sure, yes, logically, he understands this is all sad, but before all else?

It’s boring.

Has he always been this bitter? Has he always been this good at choking down his feelings? Probably.

Mattsun looks away from the speaker at the front of the room, who's droning on about some shit while practically draped over the coffin. He does a precursory scan across the room, making sure everyone was properly teary eyed and mourning, before pulling out his phone. Maybe it’s unprofessional, but it doesn’t matter. No one’s looking at the funeral director during these things. If they were, it was something for them to discuss later during the reception.

'Did you see that employee?'

'No, I was crying.'

'He was on his phone!'

'How horrible!'

Just before he can open Twitter, a glimpse of unforgettable, bright strawberry blonde hair catches his eye. For a moment, he ignores it off. He’s used to imagining things, used to his brain searching for hints of pink wherever he goes. He's used to turning his head to see it was a trick of the eye.

But this time the color doesn’t fade. Instead, it comes into focus, catching the light that pours through the stained glass windows, rainbows painted across pale skin. All at once, the presence becomes real, and Mattsun feels like he’s seen a ghost.

Not a literal one, but, fuck, he might as well be.

It’s been years since he’s seen Makki, longer since they actually talked, but there he was, standing at the back of the parlor with an obituary in hand. He loathes himself for the way excitement bubbles inside him and his heart gets caught in his throat… and then immediately drops as he processes why Makki would be here. He tries to remember the last name of the deceased, hoping the last name wouldn’t be familiar. Makki’s dad was never in good health, could it be-

No, he definitely would have recognized anyone else with the last name Hanamaki.

That’s when it hits him that Makki isn’t dressed for the funeral. In a sea of black, he’s wearing some raggedy sweatshirt with coffee split down the sleeve and a loose pair of jeans, ripped in all the wrong places. Frankly, he looks like shit, but he’s just leaning against the door frame, standing there like he belongs, with a tiny little grin on his face.

Makki never looks over, too involved in the speech, but he’s aware of Mattsun’s presence. His torso is angled to face his old friend, chest broad and inviting. Mattsun hates that after all these years, he can still read his body language and understand what it means. It’s an invitation to come over.

Mattsun has to stop himself from going over there. Time has passed, he’s made his choices. He can’t just drop his work for an old friend.

No, not a friend. Stranger adjacent.

He’s made his choices.

He stays where he should be, in the corner, for what feels like hours, autopiloting through the rest of the service. By the time it’s all over, and the lights are dimmed, Makki’s already gone.

Mattsun hates that he knows exactly where to find him.

They find each other behind the parlor, wedged between the building and the dumpster. Makki’s sitting on the curb, legs folded up under him and pressed into his chest. That signature smile hasn’t faded, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He pats the empty space next to him, but Mattsun just shakes his head and stays standing.

“Just like high school, huh?” Makki says, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pouch. He taps the bottom four times, then shakes it, hard. Waking up the cancer, making sure it’s out of bed, he used to joke.

“Except we aren’t hiding from teachers anymore.” Mattsun kicks at a crumpled soda can and watches it bounce across the asphalt. “And you’ve changed brands.”

“Now we’re hiding from your boss.” Makki pulls a stick out and waves it, “And Iwaizumi’s not here to bitch about it.”

“Dude,” Mattsun tries not to sigh, but it sneaks out. The casual act was unsettling; Makki was pretending that past 3 years never happened. “I’m happy to see you and all, but I’m working right now.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Makki pats his pockets frantically, then pulls out a small pink lighter. It's not the same pink as his hair, but it's close. He brushes it against his pants, back then forward, opening it and lighting it in one smooth motion. He holds out the cigarette, twirling it between his fingers, “Help me light this, why don’t you?”

Mattsun blanches, scoffing in annoyance at the thought. There's the flash of a memory, Hiro's fingers against his lips, holding the cigarettes for him as he breathes in, skinned knees brushing against each other, but he pushes it down.

“Hanamaki, I-”

“I’ve been demoted to just Hanamaki, huh?” he places it between his teeth and sets it alight, sucking in until the end glows orange. He holds still, savoring the moment, then lets out his breath, smoke seeping out through his teeth. “So, it turns out that I need to plan a funeral.”

Mattsun lets his apathy break, just for a moment. He runs his hands through his hair, completely fucking up the slicked back style as he processes this. “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be.” Makki shrugs, “Not the end of the world.”

Mattsun blinks, trying to shake off the initial shock. He just lets his work persona take over. “Well, we would be happy to help you plan. We can scheduling for next week in my office, if you want-”

“There’s no rush, don’t worry.” Makki leans back and faces the sun. Even though he’s sitting on the ground, no more than 5 feet from garbage, he seems so peaceful.

“Who’s it for?” Mattsun asks the obvious question and Makki grins wider, like he’s been waiting for this moment. He waggles his fingers in the air, like he’s celebrating.

“Me.” Makki says. He rolls his head forward and that pleasant air about him fades. It strikes Mattsun that he’s lost weight since high school; his already sharp features are more sullen, sunken into his face. “I’m dying.”

How hadn’t he noticed earlier? He spent so much time looking at Hiro in high school, so much time studying his features…. How could he miss such a dramatic change? Even now, he can remember exactly how the curve his cheek felt under his thumb, how smooth his skin was. Mattsun doesn’t realize he’s sitting until loose gravel bites into the palms of his hands.

“Fuck, dude.” he can only look straight ahead, focusing on nothing, “Are--- are you sure?”

“As sure as medical science can get,” he has the audacity to laugh, “I got brain cancer.”

Brain cancer. Mattsun knows what that means in a vague sense and yet it means almost nothing to him. Questions bubble up in his mind, all of them swimming around, begging for any sort of information to make this all make sense.

"How long?" He wanted to ask anything else, but that’s the only sentence he could form.

" 'bout 7 inches.” Makki pauses for affect, “Oh, you meant how long do I have left to live?" he's grinning wildly at his own joke, waiting for Mattsun to react. When he doesn't he just takes another drag of his cigarette, smile never fading. "I thought it was funny.”

"It was a little funny." Mattsun relents, gesturing for the butt. It's passed with brushing fingers, knuckle against knuckle. It's been years since he's smoked- since third year of high school- but each pull still burns all the same. "How long?"

"Well, two months ago they told me I had years," he says, like it's nothing, "But the doc did a rescan and it's way worse than they thought.” He taps his temple, “Apparently, three lil fuckers in there."

"How long?" Mattsun can’t stop repeating himself.

"10 months." he wobbles his hand side to side, “Give or take.”

Mattsun takes another drag, harder this time. It’s unfair that he’s this upset about it, that this isn’t just another funeral to him.

“Whoa, don’t hog the whole thing!” Makki grabs for his cigarette, opening and closing his hand like a small child, “You’ll get cancer from these, you know? ”

Mattsun doesn’t laugh. He just watches the ember fall on to his slacks. They flare of a quick moment before dying, leaving little discolored burns in their wake.

“Both of us can’t get cancer- it’d be like wearing the same dress to a party. So embarrassing.” he finally just snatches it out of Mattsun’s hand, “So, are you going to help me?”

“H-help you.” he repeats back. Nothing that’s happening right now feels real.

“With my funeral. Duh.”

“You want me to plan your service?” Mattsun asks.

“Well, us. Not just you. Duh.”

Duh.

“Why?” Mattsun breaths and yet he feels like he’s suffocating, “Why me? After everything I did-”

“I don’t want my dad to worry about it.” Makki kisses his teeth and pulls himself into a ball, “He almost had a heart attack trying to figure out my mom’s and I …. I just don’t want him to worry.” Makki breathes out through his nose- it’s how he dispels negativity in his life, just like how he did in high school. “Besides, if I plan it, it doesn’t have to be some fucking boring ass pity party. We can make it fun. A fun-eral.”

These all just seem like words. There’s meaning behind them, sure, but they don’t seem to mean anything when they’re strung together like this. Mattsun wonders if this is shock, or some weird form of it. He’s seen it before, in the eyes of family’s blindly choosing and planning. He always thought they dumb, not knowing how to react, not knowing if they should be sad or angry or …. Something.

But he gets it now. The news doesn’t always sink in.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits after a long moment, “I don’t… I don’t think I’m processing this.”

Makki pushes off of the curb and stands, brushing off dust from his pants. “I get it. It’s a lot to hear.” he flashes a peace sign over his shoulder as he starts down the alley, “Think about it and get back to me.” A thin puff of smoke curls into the air, “My number’s the same as it always was.”

Mattsun sits there, hidden between the dumpster and his work, and tries to process as he watches Makki walk out of his life once again.

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squishneedsahero · 3 years

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Known Faces

The Lost Padawan

Part 6 of ?

Word Count: 1230

You were raised in the Jedi order, Padawan of Jedi Master Obiwan Kenobi.

You had reluctantly agreed to stay on the ship for this stop, mostly because it's highly populated and much like Wrecker you'll stand out too much. Well, not so much stand out if you were just walking around but in the long run it was probably for the best that you weren't out there cause a bounty hunter tries to take Omega and you would've pulled out your lightsaber to save her, causing even more trouble. So, instead you stayed behind and bothered, I mean helped, Tech while he fixed the ship.

You were actually kind of helpful, you know holding stuff for him, but not the flashlight because he has that built into his helmet. It was fine though because you were used to meticulous tasks, and fixing a ship was much better than having to sit and read whatever texts Master Kenobi had given you to keep you occupied. When Echo shows up with a group of droids to help things go quite a bit faster. Then all of you have to leave in a rush since Omega was being hunted down for some currently unknown reason.

Your next stop is Sid, who you had met before a couple times and due to that you have to wait on the ship until they figure out if Sid is a friendly or not. It takes ffffffoooorrreeevvveeerrr and when they do finally come back they don't even let you off the ship. Instead you're off again going to rescue a kid from some slave traders, which is at least some action so you'll take it. A quick minute to scope out the area then they send you back to the ship with Omega, claiming she's too inexperienced and that they work better with just their group.

Omega plays with her clone doll, and is making some modifications to it, and you take something from Tech's stuff to entertain yourself. From there you sit sulking in the place you had claimed as your own and slowly adjust the com device to pick up one of the Empire's broadcasting frequencies, where they're reporting the news to all the citizens and catch yourself up. You don't listen for long though as you sit your head up and turn it off, getting up and heading over to Omega.

"Hey- someone's approaching on speeders and I doubt it's our friends," you say quietly.

"Okay- what do we do?" she asks, fear coming into her eyes.

"We hide, if they've found our ship so easily I doubt the others have made it safely to free Muchi," she goes to respond but you quickly place a hand over her mouth as two Zygerrians approach the ship. With a glance at her she understands, so the two of you sneak off board through the other opening then find some rocks to hide behind while waiting for them to leave.

Once they leave you and Omega crawl over to some other rocks and peek over the ledge to see where the others are. Omega spots them first, tapping your shoulder and pointing towards them. "There they are."

"Good job Omega," you say softly with a smile, "let's go get them out of there."

The both of you climb down the cliffs, slowly and carefully but still almost get caught. The both of you end up on top of a large metal crate containing a rancor, getting to the ground from there. "What if we open the cage?" Omega asks when her feet touch the ground.

You nod, "yeah that could work." You pull her to duck behind the box as one of the patrols pass. Once they're gone the both of you come back out and go to figure out the lock.

The two of you pull out the piece that keeps the door locked, just in time too because the guards come up behind you. "Back away from the crate, the two of you aren't hiding in there."

The both of you think the same thing, backing away and side stepping to face the guards. "We weren't hiding," Omega says, "we were unlocking," she smirks and holds up the locking mechanism for them to see.

They all rush forward to try to keep the rancor from breaking free, giving you two kids a chance to run away from them, over to where the clones had just gotten free of their restraints. Omega runs over to the kid thought to be Muchi to tell them that you're there to rescue her. There's a clamor behind you as the rancor breaks free, sending the Garuda flying as it plows them down.

The one alien who was sticking close to the kid shakes their head and points to the rancor, "no, Muchi. Muchi."

"The rancor is Muchi?" Wrecker asks in exasperatedly.

"Apparently," you mutter, turning to eye the creature.

Most of the guards are downed at that point so you take off running towards Muchi. You hold your hands out in front of you and face the Rancor, "hey Muchi, calm down. We're here to take you home." You say this in a soothing tone, trying to use the force to calm her.

It doesn't work. You also get thrown into one of the cliffs and Wrecker has to take over, speaking her language of fighting. You stand up and shake yourself off before wandering over to the others. "That hurt."

"Yeah, maybe it'll teach you to stop doing dumb stuff," Hunter replies.

You laugh, "probably not, I've had worse. But I didn't use my lightsaber this time so I can learn some things," you tease back. "But knowing how a blaster actually works could be useful."

"Yeah, probably. I'll show you later," Hunter says. "For now we need to get Muchi back to Sid."

Wrecker is able to get Muchi to listen to him, and from there you all load back onto your ship and head back to the other side of the planet to find Sid. This time you actually get out with the others, because it's been confirmed that Sid is a friendly. You had met Sid in passing before, mainly because Master Kenobi was a member of the Jedi council so he got access to more intel than others did.

Muchi doesn't stick around for long as the person soon shows up to collect her, it's that guy who is basically Jabba's, the crime lord of Tatooine's, secretary. You don't mention this instead choosing to just duck out of sight to be cautious in the case he may recognize you from one of the times you'd been involved with some intergalactic drama involving the Hutt family. No one questions this so you don't have to explain yourself but it all works out well in the end, and your little group is able to continue working with Sid and completing jobs.

You all pick up a few other jobs from Sid and things seem to be going well, at least until one day when you're listening to Hunter talk to Sid and from the other room you hear a blaster go off. You all rush out to see one person standing in the middle of the room as Sid demands, "what is going on?"

The figure removes his hood and looks at your little group. You can't stop the gasp that leaves you as you remove your own hood, "Rex?!"

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razorblade180 · 3 years

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Interdimensional Moms part 2

Part 1 <-

Yang:Okay Weiss, your turn.

Weiss:What!? Why me?

Blake:Because you’ve been bouncing in your seat all through Yang’s story. You clearly want to gush about your kids.

Weiss:Pffft, What!? Nooooo, a little. Hehehe I can’t believe I’m that obvious. *smiles*

Ruby:Aww look at you, I never believe Weiss Schnee could look as warm as campfire.

Yang:And wearing mom jeans!? Little jealous that you still look completely gorgeous. Why does mom energy make you prettier?

Weiss:What can I say? I’m great. As far as my universe goes, I argue that I’m the strongest mom!

Blake:Such a bold claim.

Weiss:I carried twins! *points to self* this body handled two buns in the oven!

Ruby:Couldn’t be me. *shutters* I’d sooner loose an eye. Speaking of eyes, your scar has a friend. Got this whole upside down cross basically.

Weiss:Oh that? That’s uhhhh- how would I even explain this?

Yang:And your hair! It’s short!

Ruby:Yeah you’re just a surprise all over.

Blake:Guys, let her start from the beginning!

Ruby and Yang:Oh right. *covers mouths*

Weiss:(Yep, they’re the same sisters anywhere.) Thank you Blake. Now then...a good starting place? Well I suppose I could lay the ground work of Jaune and I getting better acquainted. It was about two weeks into reaching Atlas. Winter learned I got impaled and berated me not giving any kind of thanks. Since I had waited so long to do so, words wouldn’t do for her standards and she made me take him to a proper dinner. I think it was that night we actually talked openly to each other. A piece of me was annoyed at first because I thought he’d get the wrong idea again. But...he didn’t. He was just happy to spend time with me. That’s when I realized he had changed a bit *red* and apparently I changed too. Sigh, because that annoyed feeling was actually me forming a crush.

Blake:Looks like you changed more than he did. I think we can all agree that we’re pretty rough to deal with at Beacon in the beginning?

Yang:Hell yeah!

Ruby:Preach! Hehe, but it meant you grew the most too.

Weiss:Hey! You’re all assuming that I was terrible! Who knows, I could a Saint compared to your Weiss. Maybe I was a sweetheart at Beacon.

RBY:.....

Yang:Were you?

Weiss:*red* I’ll never tell.

Blake:(That’s just a no...) Two weeks into Atlas huh? I bet feelings raged whenever the whole place was under attack huh?

Weiss:W...What attack? Barely anything happened in Atlas.

Blake:Excuse me?

Ruby:Pfft what? You’re joking right? There wasn’t any threat of things falling out the sky or war threats?

Weiss:No? We showed up, put the relic in vault, and took time fortifying things while planning with Ironwood. The most exciting thing was a grimm wave and two of Salem’s goons showing up at a ball, but we handled that.

Ruby:....I...that’s...oh my head.

Blake:So what you’re saying is time in Atlas was a piece of cake?

Weiss:Well I had to deal with my father and and a lot of other family drama so I wouldn’t say it was cake. It was actually very stressful.

Yang:Well I think we found the massive shift between worlds. Atlas was different. I would say I dealt with anything like falling kingdoms. Atlas for me was one long Mission Impossible sequence. Espionage, jail break, fake deaths, but please continue with your love story.

Weiss:You sound a little envious. Anyways there isn’t too much of anything to tell in that part. Dates, fighting together, sibling healing, I was disowned publicly, Penny was being amazing-

Blake:You were disowned?

Ruby:(Penny is...alive? Huh, well, imagine that?) .....

Yang:*whispers* You okay Rubes?

Ruby:Yeah, processing. Hey Weiss? Not to control the narrative or anything, but how is your Ruby exactly? I get the feeling she’s quite different from me somehow if things like the adventure in Atlas are different.

Weiss rubbed her chin. She could tell the Ruby in front of her was pretty perplexed by the differences so far. In fact, Weiss could tell mentioning Penny made them all flinch a little. It was safe to assume they all hadn’t heard that name in a very long time. It made her feel a little bad. Did she somehow get a more ideal world?

Weiss:I think I might be able to answer that if you could humor me by getting a little further into my world’s reality? I don’t know how but I do get a since the two of you might have a key difference.

Ruby:I’m all ears.

Weiss: Blake, I’ll circle back to being disowned a little later. It’s one of the biggest reasons I am who I am now. Let’s see now, ah, the plan. After Atlas was infiltrated it was hard to save face to the rest of Remnant. That was until the world learned about Salem. It was a secret that was doing more harm than good at this point. On that day, our journey really began for us. Team RWBY wasn’t just four girls and their friends. It was one of four four girls commanding troops, organizing meetings, rallying others. We were the face of a revolution: along with JNPR of course.

Ruby:The world just...believed in Salem?

Weiss:There were plenty skeptics, but it’s harder not to believe it. Pen- our winter maiden, showed off magic. Then the others on our side followed the example. We had two relics to show off from the start, and a variety of ways to explain questions throughout history that nobody could answer before. We gave humanity’s suffering a face. People were more than eager to cling to it. From that point it was hard for Salem to make a move that wouldn’t give further validity to our story.

Ruby:An army huh, lead by us?

Weiss:Yep, mainly you when it came to the battlefield. You were anxious at first and definitely made moves that you regretted. But...after some time and experience, you stood tall in front of dozens to give a speech the night of the final battle. I still get chills. There wasn’t an eye that wasn’t on you. A person who didn’t want to march into battle with you. I don’t think I ever seen you more sure of where you were meant to be.

Ruby:Is that so? Hmm, I think...I think I get it now. Your Ruby must’ve stumbled quite a bit, but had people by her consistently. It was other’s strength that enabled her to get stronger. How old was she when the war was over?

Weiss:It ended on her twenty first birthday.

Ruby:Makes sense. An army isn’t made in a day. Plans and caution for everyone involved. A united force like that sounds like a thing Oz dreamed of.

Weiss:Actually, it was. My world beat Salem by gaining the relics. The gods witnessed the effort the world put in and stripped her of immortality. It was actually thanks to you that Salem went peacefully. Instead of damning her to a cruel fate, the gods let her pass on to her kids per your request. After that, gods and magic came back. Both are still mysterious. The gods are hard to find and there’s only one person born with magic so far.

Yang:Magic is a thing there!? That’s so unfair! Just imagine me with more fire!?

Weiss:Like you need it!? You’re already like a generator. Life after Salem wasn’t any calmer really. Terrifying grimm lurked where their could, an entire new way of life had been dropped on society, and even the world itself seemed to react. Weather has been more intense as of late. There was a lot things to keep people busy. Ruby being her usual self, started hunting. Blake used the momentum of faunus and humans working together to further her equality agenda, and Yang helped both of you out.

Yang:Look at me! I’m a great girlfriend and sister!

Blake:*mumbles* There at least.

Weiss:Yeah. Oscar and Penny decided to embarrass more of normal lifestyle, mostly. Penny went back to being protector of Mantle, but had way more free time to be a normal girl. Both of them had gotten really close over the years and eventually married.

Ruby:*wide eyed* Awwww, good for them! I always had a feeling those two would hit it off.

Weiss:They weren’t the only ones. You may have been busy, but you always made time for Whitley. The two of you were dating since our original trip to Atlas. There wasn’t a problem that either of you didn’t come to me for. You know hard it is to navigate other people’s relationships when you’re lost in your own? The blind was leading the blind. Worked out though. You were probably the prettiest bride out of all of us. Then again, you went ours and literally took notes.

Ruby:Hehe, that sounds exactly like something I’d do. You haven’t talked much about the charmed life after the war for you.

Weiss felt her face heat up. She placed her head on the table as if she gave up on something.

Yang:Yeah! Give us the scoop!

Weiss:Charmed isn’t what I’d call my life exactly. I was disowned, completely cut off. Even though I made my own mark in history, it’s not like people were gonna roll out red carpets. The world had to rebuild, and I needed a roof over my head. Thus began the modest life of Weiss Schnee, owner of a two bedroom Argus apartment. Fancy clothes a food were no more. Just clearance sales and two for one. Honestly, I didn’t hate. But that’s mainly because I wasn’t living alone.

Blake:Jaune?

Weiss:Living back home was just as unappealing for him as it was for me. That and the fact that I couldn’t cook for shit was concerning, to say the least. Moving in and splitting rent just made sense. We weren’t dating yet technically, but.....it didn’t take long for the relationship between us to...expand.

Yang:I cannot believe a Weiss Schnee finally caved to tall blonde and scraggly. I should be jealous, but I’m strangely proud of Jaune’s achievement. It’s like the first time I lost to him. I was upset, but man did he work for that win.

Weiss:Took about a month before all of you had learned just what the living situation was like and man did you three let the teasing begin? *smiles* it was fun though. If I had to wrong about something then I’m glad it was about me not thinking a person is reliable. Especially since they’ve bailed me out of trouble many times. Normal life had its pitfalls. We were constantly working to pay rent. Sometimes one of us had to work harder. Getting sick was disastrous, of long term assignments. What’s the relationship I have with Whitley in the other worlds?

Ruby:Casual. The two of are always throwing ideas back and forth to help the company.

Blake:The two of you are fine. I’m not too sure how much you actually hang out, but you both are pretty snarky whenever you’re together.

Yang:Thick as thieves. That man was always shifting money and finding sneaky ways to let us know when important things popped up.

Weiss:Good, that’s really good. *exhales* I can’t count the times he sent money without father knowing. I’m glad we reconnected. Without his and everyone’s help, I don’t think I would’ve managed. Especially when mom died...

Ruby:Oh. I...I’m sorry to hear that.

Weiss:It’s bound to happen when you drink the way she did. But yeah, didn’t handle it any easier. Between that and stressing over money, I really got overwhelmed often. I was very glad I didn’t live alone. Even if I didn’t want to talk about things, Jaune was always there to listen. I think it was around that time I realized just how in love I actually was with him. He makes me happy. That idiot must’ve known how much of a weakness I had for him. It was only a few months later that he proposed.

The simple memory of Jaune asking her under a street light on a cold yet peaceful night, made Weiss’s face a healthy shade of red. A gentle smile was all she could make thinking about it. A smile that left everyone stunned. They had never seen Weiss look so warm. So genuinely filled with love, happiness. To think she was once called Ice Queen? This one really did look like an Angel. Weiss quit daydreaming and got a little embarrassed.

Weiss:Uh, sorry! I guess I little mushy there. I’ve been told I’ve gotten pretty sappy through the years.

Blake:I think that’s beautiful.

Yang:Seriously. I’m...speechless really.

Ruby:A hardworking Weiss that struggled making ends meet. I gotta say that you look good doing it.

Weiss:Yeah well, that time has passed. My father got sick and in an attempt to “clear his conscious” or whatever he was feeling, he put me back in the family. I only saw him once when he was on his deathbed. Truthfully, I don’t visit my parent’s grave. I wanna say old emotions don’t get stirred up, but there’s certain feelings towards people that just can’t die I guess.

Yang:That’s fair. Who knows, maybe you just need a decade or two?

Weiss:Hehe, perhaps. However, before I got my fortune back, I was granted an either better one. Two in fact. That sly knight of mine managed to overachieve like he always does and give us a boy and girl.

Blake:I got a sneaking suspicion that you weren’t upset?

Weiss:Not for one second! I love my babies. My darling little Nick and Summer Schnee. One named after our grandfather, and Jaune and I are both really thankful for all that Ruby has done for us, so our daughter got named Summer. It meant a lot. My Ruby...she can’t have kids, or I should say getting and staying pregnant is extremely difficult.

Ruby:...*sniffling* These aren’t tears by the way. Just dust.

Weiss:My Ruby cried.

Ruby:Oh I bet! That’s some powerful stuff. Probably ugly cried too. Someone please say something? *misty eyed* Fuck, man that was a lot. *puts hood up* give me a sec, please keep going. *holding Yang’s hand*

Yang:Weiss, weren’t you a little scared about your living situation?

Weiss:It was a weird thing. We talked about having a family before hand. Money was always a concern, as well space; but I also knew that I did want to have a family of my own one day. So when the day came that the nurse told me I was pregnant, I should’ve been more worried. I wasn’t. All I felt was joy. Maybe it was because I had faith we could handle anything. We did have you all to help. Yang, you might as well be a superwoman honestly. You have been so amazing throughout my life.

Yang:Aye! I really love this other me.

Blake:What about me?

Weiss:You remain the most sensible person in my life and I thank you for it. Everyone else is crazy.

Blake:Yeah that’s pretty on brand. *smiles*

Ruby:Picture please?

Weiss gladly pulled out her scroll and showed off her children. It was quick to see both of them had gotten their father’s dorkiness. They stood in front of the camera playfully winking and were pretending to take a bite out the gold medals they had around their necks. It was crazy how much Summer looked like her mother, but clearly had Jaune’s eyes. Her brother on the other hand had the Schnee eyes and messy Arc hair. The two looked like barrels of fun. Then there was the man himself, Jaune Arc. He looked from the one in Yang’s photo. His hair resembled his days traveling to Haven and he was clean shaven, but he was noticeably healthier. It wasn’t even a physical thing much, though he did look good. He just seemed more vibrant.

Yang:Mine is cuter.

Weiss:Yours looks like your dad with the scruff.

Yang:Can you not?

Blake:How old?

Weiss:Sixteen. Little devils want sports car. I’m not dealing with that. Nick is really good at figure skating and is the oldest, so he’s the heir. Summer decided to be a little like her mother and pursue singing. Doesn’t have my voice though, but her range is better than me. I’m jealous. Both of them are always pretty decent in a fight if I do say so myself. Sigh, they grow up so fast. They still have a lot of growing to do though. Teenagers...

RBY:Preach...

Ruby:Everything okay though? Nothing too tough going on?

Weiss:Can I lie and say yes?

Yang:Hey I unpacked my baggage. Unload yours.

Weiss let out a large sigh. She looked at her kids lovingly, but had a smile that seemed...somber. All of her energy was brought down a bit and it showed.

Yang:Umm if it’s too much-

Weiss:It’s fine. It might be a little therapeutic to talk about it. Personally, I don’t I’m doing all I really can do. When they were very young, we all took a trip to go skating at a frozen lake. While I was there I found this strange ice dust that I’ve never seen before. Nick and Summer had gotten into a fight and by accident, Nick set off the dust. The shrapnel from it hit everyone, but Summer had it the worse. I’m talking it was lodged in her in multiple places. Not to mention the blast sent her flying into the water. I was hit so hard that I nearly blacked out. Thankfully, Jaune was the furthest and dove into the water while I managed to get Nick. He avoided a lot of it due to distance and was winded more than anything.

Ruby:Christ...

Blake:How young?

Weiss:Five. We rushed so fast to the hospital as soon as we could. The dust in Summer was freezing her until Nick activated her semblance and most of the shards got used up. Still, Summer ended up hospitalized for almost a year. Surgeries, comas, seizures; it was difficult to put it lightly. That picture doesn’t show it but she has puncture scars across her body, and a slight scar under her jawline she covers with makeup. That dust, though highly dangerous, it also healed her eventually. Summer had virtually no chance of survival. Not even counting the organ damage, that water should’ve put her into shock. But...she made a full recovery, on paper.

Yang:On paper?

Weiss:Several years later, Summer came in contact with the dust again and she...changed. Her eyes looked like mine, her light blonde hair went white, and she went mad. Her scars glowed with the dust that was still in her system and Summer started attacking everyone. I saw my twelve year old just use ice that was cold enough to burn. My extra scar is from me trying to restrain her. In the end it took my gigas pinning her down before she came to her senses. Summer had no memory of it. She said all remembered was feeling cold and hearing her own laughter. It wasn’t long after that it kept happening. Any time she got cold, this other...thing would come out. It eventually called itself Shiva.

Blake:Shiva? So...it’s a multiple personality?

Weiss:We don’t know. There’s so many inconsistencies. We got her checked up by the best and every test was normal. Her brain looks normal. But any time Shiva comes out, her blood turns blue and all she wants to do is hurt us. Shiva and Summer are even aware of each other now. There’s almost no day where Summer doesn’t hear Shiva in her head, wrestling for control. Between that, people at school who hate her, the scars, everything; Summer has become pretty reserved. She barely wants to go to school and she’s depressed most days. Nowadays she doesn’t open up about it outside of therapy. I...I can connect with her. Not in the way that matters.

Yang:I...shit, I don’t know what to say to that.

Weiss:That’s okay, few do. We’ve gotten good at preventing situations that get Summer cold but it’s through trial and error on something we know nothing about. Even with how far we’ve gotten, there’s a looming fear in everyone’s heart. Make no mistake though, that doesn’t stop any family from loving her with everything, but the mental strain of it all is more than anyone should deal with. Nick is kind soul. He blames himself for this and is constantly doing all he can to be there for everyone and put on this brave face, but he suffers inside. For a time, he went to therapy. Your sister almost killing you is a visceral experience. Getting him to sleep and take a break is like telling a fish not to swim. He is pretty open about this though, which helps a lot. It’s just...how do convince somehow they’re good enough when they think they’re not?

Ruby and Blake:You can’t....

Weiss:Exactly. It’s so...*tearing up* How am I failing at helping my kids worse than my own mother?

Yang:And that’s where I draw the line. *stands up* Now I can’t begin to fathom dealing with a a situation like this, and what I’m about to say is gonna be a little hypocritical but I really don’t care. Weiss, the last thing you are is a bad mother. I could tell immediately from the way you are that there hasn’t been a single as a parent that you haven’t made a choice without your kids in mind. I get feeling like there’s a gap that disconnects you from there; but the fact you keep your arms stretched out to bridge it makes you mother of the year in my eyes! Don’t believe for a second you’re a bad mother. Your the gold standard!

The room filled with silence for a moment. Weiss felt a lump form in her throat as she fought back tears that she eventually had to wipe away. She tried letting out a small laugh, but with it came more tears that ran down her face. Weiss couldn’t tell if it was from Yang’s words, or the stress. All she knew was that right now, she felt very thankful for being here.

Weiss:Damn it Yang, making me cry is something you’ve always been good at. Maybe that’s why I look up to you so much?

Yang:*red* Y-You what?

Weiss:My Yang, I downplayed just how much I adore her. Her daughter, Veronica, she’s got her fair share problems that stresses Yang out, but I never see her stop trying to connect with her. Even when she’s sad it’s like it’s only for a second, then you’re trying twice as hard. It’s amazing. If I’m being honest, and this is embarrassing, but I kinda picked up a mother from you. You’ve always been a bit motherly.

Ruby:She’s right.

Blake:Mom energy since day one.

Yang:Really? *rubs head* I was just being myself. Never really thought about it. Now then, wipe those tears! It’s upsetting that you look pretty why you cry. Meanwhile I look like a hot mess, and not in the fun way.

Weiss:*wiping face* Oh please, I don’t wanna hear that from someone who’s never needed make up. Those genes of your went to Veronica. Kids a genuine beauty. She’s just angry all the time.

Yang:Yeah that sounds appropriate... Weird to think I have a daughter that’s not Yujin. Wish I could see her.

Blake:Me too. Though I think I’d be overwhelmed seeing all my different kids. I’d probably want them all.

Ruby:My hands are full with ones I have and I wouldn’t say I’m juggling them well, so I don’t need other kids from universes. I’d be so stressed.

Weiss:Especially if they’re violent.

Ruby:Yeah, that would bad....

Weiss:Phew, I do feel a bit better. Even though I said all those things, my family still had good times. It’s not tense and we joke around like everyone else. As a family, we’re happy. We just have shit we gotta sort through.

Blake:Rich or poor, life has certain things that hit everyone. Is Jaune doing well.

Weiss:Yeah, he gets through to Summer pretty well, and he’s typically calm when it comes to giving guidance. He had his fears, but that’s why I’m here. We confide in each other.

Blake:May you and everyone else find a light at the end of the tunnel.

Ruby:Hey Weiss. Does....actually, never mind. Forget it.

Yang:We both know that’s not happening. Spit it out.

Ruby:I was just about Shiva. I’ve encountered weird things in my world, but this is unique. I was wondering if you have any positive experience with her.

Weiss:Not a single one. Here since of enjoyment in the displeasure of my children is a thing we disagree on. Though....her eyes, they do throw me off. For some reason, they don’t match her joy.

Blake:Maybe that part is still Summer. Eyes are the window to the soul and all that jazz.

Weiss:Maybe? I hope the kids are okay right now. I wonder what they’re up to?

xxxxx

Summer:WHAT’S UP VALE!!!!!!!!

A massive crowd screams “what’s up Summer”in excitement. Flashing lights and chanting fans’s voices make the sold out venue shake with their passion. Summer can only bask in it. There’s no better feeling than when she’s on stage. She looks to herself excitedly. This one was extra special. Nick comes out on stage with a base around him and a second microphone.

Nick:WE CAN’T HEAR YOU!!!!

The crowd chants louder. Summer responds by starting a rift on her guitar. She faces Nick with a smug look. Yes, having him on stage is always a joy, but that didn’t mean Summer wanted him hindering or stealing the show.

Summer:Well look who’s here!? Atlas’s favorite son! Think you’re ready to play with the kids up here. This isn’t your normal stage.

Nick smiled. He responded by playing the bass and letting the audience speak for him. Summer was chessing fool. Slowly she bopped up and down, urging him to do the same. It wasn’t long before they in sync. Drums, piano, and other background musicians began building up the tune as planned. The twins whipped around to face the crowd.

🎶Get down! We won't let you go!

This time, can you bring us down?

Back up! fly far through the sky

BLACK ROVER!

Let's go! All together now

And at last this world can't slow us down

For now, let's dye it all in black

BLACK ROVER!🎶

The two stood back to back...

🎶As more join and stand beside me,

The void doesn't feel so empty!!!!!

I know there is much more in store

Let's open that door -!🎶

Nick looked over his shoulder and saw Summer doing the same thing. This was gonna be one for the books. Jaune watched from backstage with one of the stagehands.

Stagehand:Should we tell them to save their energy? This charity event is six hours.

Jaune:Nah, let them have fun.

#rwby #rwby au #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #rwby whiteknight #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #rwby twin snowflakes #jaune arc #the void

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bitchapalooza · 3 years

Text

Hetalia nekotalia headcanons(covering just a few of them)

It seems weird that the cats would just be called "Italy-cat" by the actual nation whose name is already Italy so I wasted my time in figuring out their possible breeds and searching up acceptable names(unless stated otherwise) for them that the nations may pick for them and even where the nations obtained these cats. I think they've come to value these cats on the same level as themselves due to how long they may have been around(the same goes for whatever other pet(s) they may own). I thought this was a fun thing to do and honestly it was! :)

Might do more when I get the time again~

***Tw for mentions of animal abuse***

Americat:

Domestic long hair, possible Maine Coon mix!

I think America adopted his cat in the 1980s. He was just a kitten, abandoned outside a supermarket in a box with a sign with one other kitten inside. At least 2 months old. America, having a big heart and soft spot for animals of any kind, took them both in. However he was already struggling to buy proper food for his other animals so he needed to find a different home for them. America ended up keeping one, as he fell absolutely head over heels for him, and named him Liberty— for obvious personal reasons. America raised him for the majority of his life as an indoor cat but with how much energy he has he decided to train him to be an outdoor cat as well, even teaching him to use the doggy door. This gave him enough room to actually grow faster into the adult cat he is now compared to if he'd ALWAYS be around America(as in staying small due to the slow aging around America).

Canacat:

Domestic longhair, possible Maine Coon mix!

Canada adopted him after America offhandedly asked. Canada was pretty stuck when it came to naming him. It was 4 weeks into owning him, mostly calling him a range of names such as Paul and Rookie but never sticking to one for even one whole day, but when Canada was just sitting there eating breakfast before leaving for his daily duties, just a normal quiet morning it came to him. Again, he was just sitting there. That is until the kitten figured out how to climb onto the chair next to him that is. He sat there meowing and pawing at Canada's thigh for 10 minutes while Canada ate. And then he tried to jump onto the table 3 times in a row. Canada gave in and allowed him up there for a minimum of 3 minutes. Not even 1 second passed and suddenly the little rascal is trying to steal the last couple bites of pancake. That was apparently what he wanted. And so Canada named him Pancake! Pancake was an energetic little kitten that a spring in his step but he did mellow out as he grew into adulthood. He's mainly an indoor cat. Come winter time when it snows, Pancake has a tendency to forget the existence of snow so he goes bolting for it only to regret it later.

Germany-cat:

A black or gray German Rex!

Germany isn't exactly a big cat person, he prefers dogs. But after this kitten followed Prussia's cat all the way home and noticed how thin he was he couldn't resist taking care of him. Germany ended up naming him Maus in reference to how tiny and often silent his meow was as a kitten. Now it's just a hilarious name as he's grown quite big and has a very strong meow! Maus is a very well behaved cat although it seems he doesn't favor being played with. He's most often seen at the top of his cat tower or in the window basking in the warm sun. As he was previously found as a stray outside he still does favor being outside. He tends to escape whenever Germany unlocks the doggy door or when Germany let's the dogs out in the backyard to run around for a bit. Maus may be a very mellow cat but he does tend to be loud when he wants food and doesn't want to wait for it. He also tends to attack people when suddenly being pet.

Prussia-cat:

An albino German Rex!

Prussia adopted him in 1998 after his and Germany's new home became a little overrun with mice. Prussia affectionately named him Gunther. Gunther was a spunky little kitten, in fact he was the runt of 6 other siblings and noticeably different to his siblings in appearance(originally thought to just take after the father's white coat despite the orange coats of his siblings and mother). Prussia chose him, the teeny little runt, after watching him easily sneak up and take down his bigger sister and win the play-fight he started. Prussia proudly took him home and trained him to catch the mice! Some years later, Gunther apparently got curious and brave and got loose outside. He was gone for weeks. He came back with a limp, a fresh scar, and a kitten clinging to his side. Gunther rarely escapes outside anymore. Prussia didn't know Gunther was albino until took he took him to the vet for his shots.

Itabby and Romano-cat:

They're both European shorthairs!

When the Italies were freshly unified and everything was still pretty awkward they were forced to go bond by taking walks every morning. Veneziano didn't mind this, he enjoyed the morning and even more so the countryside around them. Romano however could care less about it all and just wanted his bed back. Veneziano was all conversation, very observant of his surroundings as he commented on them to strike up an interesting conversation. And that's how he noticed a man cruelly stuffing two kittens into a sack on their way out of town. After alerting his brother, the two confronted the man. The man claimed these two were sick because neither were getting any of their mother's milk like the rest. Romano demanded he hand the kittens over or else he'd regret it. Veneziano annoyed him with his whining to the point where he gave in and handed them over quite harshly. Once they got them safely away from the man they took a look at the 1 week old kittens; they were both terribly skinny but clearly hanging on for dear life and the brothers both agreed, for once(well more like Romano kept saying "whatever the fuck you want"), that they wanted to help these poor creatures. Luckily for them they knew a stray cat that just had another litter of 3 and could perhaps try to get her to accept two more. And she did! Well it took a day but she did eventually take them in and feed them. Veneziano immediately decided that once they were old enough to eat solid foods he was going to keep one of them and name him Gino! It took a while for Romano to warm up to the idea of keeping even one but he eventually did. He took the other kitten and named him Sonno. They've lived so long due to just how clingy they are to the brothers. Their aging was so slowed down because of how often they're near the Italies that they didn't become fully grown adult cats until some time around 1932.

Japan-cat:

Japanese bobtail!

Named Yoshi* for being Japan's little lucky charm. Yoshi was left behind by his previous family after they moved away. He left his home and began wandering around until he got to Japan's house. Taking notice of how the cat stuck around his house, Japan began feeding him. And feeding him. And feeding him. And eventually he accepted the idea that he was now a cat owner. Not knowing his previous name, Japan decided to rename him Yoshi. Because of Yoshi, Japan began to come outside more and more each day as he is an outdoor cat that seldomly comes inside anymore. What's more is Yoshi came into his life in 1999, just a few months before 2000— aka when The Lost Decade was coming to an end as well as his personal on and off string of depressive episodes. Japan spoils Yoshi with treats and only the best cat food he can afford!

*The real name given to him by Himaruya is Tama, most likely a reference to calico cat Tama from Kinokawa, Wakayama Prefecture, Japan(that's at least what I've gathered). Before I knew this(in my early fandom days) I headcanoned his name to be Yoshi, as I said above it was a reference to luck(I didn't have as easy and unmonitored access to the internet as I do now so I never had a steady way to look these things up). I like Tama as well but I still can't get the name Yoshi out of my mind! I'm not sure if Yoshi and Tama can be combined like some names here in America can be combined(like Lilian Pad[as in Lily Pad] or Patches Poo) and I don't want to attempt it in case I get it wrong no matter how much research I do.

Austria-cat:

Domestic longhair!

Austria has quite the soft spot for this kitty surprisingly. He was born on his estate after his mother wandered in and settled between a couple bushes in his garden. He was born one of three kittens, almost entirely identical to his mother. Austria ended up giving names to all the cats but this one specifically was named Mozart— for very obvious reasons on Austria's part. The mother cat and two of the other kittens ended up moving along a year later after Austria decided to renovate part of his house; however the only one to stick around was Mozart. Austria would let Mozart come inside if only he could manage to pick him up. Mozart will jump into his lap outside, brush up against him, greet him in the morning, allow him to come near(especially with food and clean water) and even pet him but he won't ever peacefully allow Austria to carry him. Mozart was originally thought to be a Ragdoll however it was France who identified him to be a simple domestic longhair instead.

China-cat:

Burmese cat!

Originally a stray that endlessly bothered a shop owner and his own cat, China attracted his attention when he fed him only once. This cat followed him all the way to the hotel he was staying at not far from the little shop, which annoyed him greatly but honestly gave him a little laugh as well. As his car ride home was only going to be an hour at best he decided to at least attempt to bring the little fella home for proper care and attention. And obviously it worked. On his way home he decided a name like Zhi seemed perfect for him! Something told China Zhi was used to car rides and being around people, which told him Zhi was originally in a loving home. Feeling a little sad that this nice loyal cat was living on the streets he began to pamper him. Now Zhi expects to be brushed twice a day, let out at least once a day to soak in the sun's warmth and lay in the soft grass. He's fed the best food possible, has more toys that he knows what to do with. China's cellphone is overrun with videos of Zhi playing fetch— a trick he didn't teach him which, to him, is further proof he had a previous owner.

Russia-cat:

Siberian cat!

Taken in from a rescue shelter, at first fostered, then adopted. Russia kept the name the shelter gave him, Boris, as it fit him very well considering his past. Boris was unfortunately neglected when his previous owner was around. His fur was matted, he was skin and bones, upon pick up he had an eye infection. He was terribly scared of people. After being treated and showed kindness, it wasn't very long for him to open up. When Russia came along and took him in to give him all the proper attention he lacked, Boris fell in love with it. And Russia fell in love with having a cat around. Before anyone could swoop in and try to adopt Boris, Russia already put in to adopt. Now Boris is a happy healthy cat who's favorite toy to play with is Russia's supply of yarn. Boris loves bird or feather based toys the most, however, and will often drag his favorite feather wand over to Russia so he'd play. He's not much of an outdoor cat but after being kept mostly in a small cage since birth he does enjoy at least laying on the porch outside.

France-cat:

A Sacred Birman with light creamy point colouration!*

Obtained as a newly born kitten in 1992, France had offered to help nurture him as his mother had died shortly after giving birth. France named him Minou, more so in honor of his deceased mother Minet rather than it being a common French cat's name(some assume he was lazy with his naming). Minou grew up to be properly spoiled and loved by France. From the time he could see and walk properly, France began putting light outfits and accessories on him for very small amounts of time(like hats and ties mainly to avoid overheating). Minou often silently greets France at the door whenever he comes home, barreling through the hallway or off the couch in order to get some much needed love and attention. He surprisingly gets along very well with France's pet birds, only ever going after them once as a kitten. Minou can be found in his luxurious cat bed made of cardboard from the cat tower's box and a quilt France had crafted long long ago that's now drastically torn in various places. OR he can be found planting his fanny on France's face at night, nearly suffocating him. Minou seems to have a likeness for Russia and England.

*I know France-cat doesn't have any visible point colorations to him but him being a Persian doesn't fit him in my opinion, especially a blue eyed white cat. There's a high percentage of blue eyed white cats being deaf. However a common trait in Birmans are blue eyes so that, to me, fits better.

Iggycat:

Scottish fold-American shorthair mix!*

Obtained through a small litter from a colleague. England named him Lopsy immediately upon seeing him, completely falling in love with him. Due to Lopsy's health concerns(osteochondrodysplasia) he's strictly an indoor cat. He's not very playful due to the pain he endures so he's prone to lay about, especially in England's lap, in his cat bed that sits directly under the window to reach the sunlight, or under England's bed. Despite being on them for so long, it still takes quite the struggle to give Lopsy his medication as he's come accustomed to when England is preparing to give it to him. As he's not very active, Lopsy isn't too fond of France's, America's, or Canada's cats— all of which tend to love playing together. However there are times when Minou is in non-playful mode where Lopsy will lay near or eat with him, but will absolutely refuse to lay with since Minou does have a tendency to attack another cat's tail without warning.

*The reason I see him as a mix is due to the major health concerns breeding two Scottish folds together can bring. However, breeding a Scottish fold with an American shorthair or British shorthair is often the better choice as there's less issues involved. There's talk about banning the breed all together. Even with this talk, breeding persists, preferably for cat shows from the sound of it. There's even research going into fixing these health concerns but it seems incurable due to the Scottish fold disease seeming to be a very dominant trait no matter what secondary breed it's bred with. Scottish fold disease doesn't always occur in a litter, mostly being a 50% change.

Spain-cat:

European shorthair!

Named Vivo for his lively personality, this little guy was found in the rain, drenched and hungry. He looked to be roughly 3 months old, very well fed and groomed so Spain assumed he had a family he ran away from for whatever reason. Without any other solution, Spain took him in until someone came to pick him up. A few weeks go by without anyone coming to claim him, so Spain opted to keep Vivo. Vivo is very loving, he possess a strong purr and often falls asleep purring. He's a lap cat but also has a tendency to curl up on or near Spain's shoulder when he's on the couch. Vivo is mainly an outdoor cat, often chasing mice or other vermen away from the garden without ever destroying it. Spain is pretty grateful to of found him as it had gotten quiet with Romano gone and all. And Vivo defiantly brought some noise to the house! He's not always vocal but when he is he tends to run around happily meowing for attention. He's surprisingly very territorial however— when introduced with then young kits Gino and Sonno, the Italies' cats, Vivo almost attacked them. It took small steps forward to get the three of them to warm up to each other. It also took a while to warm Vivo up to Minou and Gunther.

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

Text

let's save the world

season two, episode four

five hargreeves x reader

summary: you may not be able to get five’s family on your side, but at least diego is willing to help at the gala

trigger warnings: cursing, violence

word count: 3k

a/n: i don’t really know what to say here, so i’ll just tell you to enjoy this chapter (that’s not a request, it’s a command :)) and if you don’t already know, i take requests! the rules are linked in my bio and i have prompts pinned on my page, so check that out if you want 😳

you stood outside of the plano street rooming house for solitary men, leaning against the car as you wait for vanya, who had decided it would be a good idea to make sure luther was okay after the fight last night. he had taken quite a beating when he just stopped fighting back, so it was at least a little understandable.

leaning against the car, you stare at your shoes while absentmindedly pick at your nails. you were starting to get a bit worried. only two of five’s siblings were working with you, one was refusing to do anything to help, and you still didn’t know where klaus and allison were. you were running out of time just trying to get them all together, and all you had was one invitation for an event that reginald may be attending.

sighing heavily, you look up at the brick building, crossing your arms over your chest. “this is taking too long.” you mutter, grabbing five’s attention as he turns his head to you. “it’s been what, four days? all we have is the invitation to that gala. your family won’t even help us.”

“the invitation should be enough for now. if we go to that gala and find dad, we might be able to get something out of him.” he sticks his hands in his pockets, and you glance at him. this gala reminded you of what had happened the first time around with the eye from meritech.

days were wasted on that glass eye and it while it would have lead to something, you weren’t able to figure out where it was from until the day of the apocalypse, due to the destruction of the building.

before you can respond, you see some of the bricks of the building fall and others around it crumble. you press your lips together as luther peers through the hole he had created, rolling your eyes.

“are you aware that your brother has anger issues?” you look to five with narrowed eyes, tilting your head to the side as you drop your arms to your sides.

he looks at luther, chuckling at what he had done as he turns to look at you. “i wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.” you grin, shaking your head as you push away from the car.

a few moments later, vanya comes out of the rooming house, both you and five moving to meet her. “well, that clearly went well.” the woman walks straight past you as five speaks, her hard gaze set straight on the vehicle. “you ready to go?”

“i’m going back to the farm.” she states clearly, and you quickly catch up to her quick pace.

“what? you can’t!” you can’t believe his siblings and how many problems they carry with them that make them so unwilling to cooperate. it would be easier to just do this by yourself, maybe with the help of diego since he was the only one you had found who agreed to help. “we all need to stick together.”

she stops in front of the car, turning on her heel to look at you. “oh, why, so i don’t end the world again?” you cringe slightly at her words. it probably wasn’t the best idea to keep that from her. “were you even going to tell me?”

five scoffs, looking away for a moment, back up to the hole in the side of the building with his eyes squinted in irritation. “you know what? in my defense, no, alright?” he leans forward slightly, his hands folded together behind his back, “can you blame me? when you get angry- shit blows up!”

she pulls the car door open, “great. are there any other family secrets you failed to mention?” she gets into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut.

“a boatload, vanya,” he looks through the window which was closed, his voice raising slightly as she started the engine, “which i don’t have the luxury of sharing with the-” he cuts himself off, his jaw clenching as he glances at you before knocking on the glass.

she doesn’t even look at him as she rolls the window down, and he lets out a soft sigh. “the clock is ticking on doomsday. just tell me that, when we need you, you’ll be ready.”

vanya finally looks away from the road ahead of her at him, as well as you who stood behind him. “i can’t help you guys.” you nearly scream right then and there, done with all of this. “i don’t even know who i am.”

“you’re a part of the umbrella academy,” he tells her, also annoyed (apparently not as much as you, though), “you’re a part of the family. like it or not, that’s who you are.”

“look, that’s who i was, okay?” she shifts the gear into drive, but holds her foot on the break. “new timeline, new me.”

she hits the gas, “that’s not how it works!” you shout after her before letting out a loud groan, walking to the sidewalk and collapsing to the ground. “i’m done with this shit.” you grumble, your knees pulled to your chest as you look up at five, who stands in front of you. “why is your family full of selfish assholes?”

he sighs as he sits down next to you. “trust me, i wish i could be un-adopted. i wonder if it’s too late for that.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to control your anger. when you were younger and your emotions got the best of you, your powers would spiral out of control, and you were glad you had gotten past that. you would definitely be surrounded by flames if you didn’t.

looking at the hole in the building one last time, luther is once again looking through, and as he sticks his middle finger up at the two of you, you get up as fast as you can, “that motherfu-” you return the favor in anger, finally letting your anger show as your hands burst into flames.

“let’s just go.” five grabs your arms, where your irritation can’t singe his uniform, quickly pulling you away so as to keep your anger from turning into rage that causes you to do something that wouldn’t end well. “they’ll come around.”

you sat in elliott’s rolling chair, your jaw tightened as you stare at your feet propped up on the desk in front of you. you were still furious, but you had to try your hardest to keep your feelings at bay, or you would never sort any of this out and the world would end for the second time, only a few months after the first.

“so what, you just let her go?” diego questions, leaning back into the cushions of the couch as lila changed the bandage over his wound.

five paced back and forth behind them, “well, vanya had a lot to process.” he reasons, and you scrunch your nose up, “she’ll come around. i know she will.”

“if she doesn’t, i’ll be paying her a little visit and making her.” you seethe, picking at your nail and pursing your lips as the boy pauses to send a pointed look at you. “sorry.” you mutter, holding your hands up in the air as a surrender, “i’m just mad.”

the three of them look at you for a moment before diego speaks up again. “what about the guys that went after her?”

“the swedes?”

“yeah, i mean how do you know they won’t go after her again?” diego questions, and you mutter a quiet thanks to elliott as he passes you a mug filled with coffee.

you take a sip before placing the steaming drink on the desk. “we don’t.”

lila hums, “any idea who sent them?”

“we have our suspicions.” five grabs the mug that elliott had set on the coffee table in front of the couch, “but right now, our priority is finding dad and getting answers, ‘cause everything else depends on it.” he sits down in one of the armchairs.

“which, for the record, i found him already.” diego tries to say, and you shake your head.

“then you let him go.” you state, raising an eyebrow, “before we could have a meaningful conversation. you thought with your knives, not your tiny brain.” you grin as he glares at you.

“he stabbed me.”

“i’m surprised he waited this long, diego,” five places his coffee back on the table, “we’ve all had the urge.”

lila and elliott laugh, and she holds her hand up for a high five, which he completely ignores. “good thing we know where reggie’s going to be tonight.” you stand from your seat at the desk, holding your drink and leaning against five’s chair, who pulls the invitation out of his pocket to show to the two.

“where’d you get this?”

“found it at his office while he was busy stabbing you.” five grins mockingly, and you chuckle as you take a sip.

he sighs softly, starting to read out the writing. “hoyt hillenkoetter and the consulate general of mexico in dallas cordially invite you to a gala.”

“woah, wait.” you turn your attention to elliott as he speaks, “hoyt hillenkoetter? are you serious?”

five raises an eyebrow, “you know him?”

"no, hillenkoetter is- he’s one of the majestic twelve.”

you squint slightly, “what the hell is that?”

“what?” the man breathes out, seemingly not being able to believe that you didn’t know what the heck a majestic twelve was. “it’s a... a secret committee.” he explains, “scientists, military, deep state.” he moves to the desk that you had been sitting at and you watch as he searches through the many papers littering it, “no one knows what they really do.”

diego sits up, wincing slightly from his wound. “wait, so they’re government?”

“shadow government.” he quickly corrects, moving to another pile on another table, “kennedy was the first president to try to push them into the light, but these guys... they’re not to be trifled with.” he pulls some papers out, “here.”

he puts a picture down on the coffee table and you quickly move closer to examine it as he points out hoyt. after a second, lila takes a quick breath. “i only count eleven.”

“that’s because they’ve only identified eleven, so far.” elliott informs, and you hum slightly as you down the rest of the coffee.

“who’s the twelfth?” diego questions, and you look between him and five as they share a look. you think they know who it is.

reginald hargreeves.

you peek over the stone wall that surrounds the perimeter of the property, seeing all of the people getting out of their cars and walking inside of the large building. it was definitely a fancy setting, as it was a gala, and the men wore suits, the women wearing dresses.

lila had managed to force you into a dress, claiming that you needed to to blend in. you hated it. it was a fit-and-flare style, which fell just above your knees, and the waist was tight with a bow tied around it, contrasting the color of the rest of the dress.

you were uncomfortable, knowing that if you had to fight someone, it would be harder to move with the tight fit above your waist and the heels that you were compelled (once again, by lila) to wear.

diego was the first to hop over the wall, and after the other two went over, you quickly jumped over the stone, quickly crouching behind one of the parked cars with them.

“so, what’s the plan?” lila questions in a hushed voice as diego looks past the rear of the vehicle, examining all of the people who went inside of the consulate, all couples who had their arms locked.

he looks back at all of you, “we infiltrate, we identify, we extract. double time.” he tells her, and you sigh at his need to make everything sound more complicated then it is.

as he looks back to the entrance, lila looks to you and five in confusion. “what the hell is he talking about?”

“find the old man and get out fast.” five simplifies it, also trying to get a good look at everyone filtering in.

diego looks at him, “that’s what i said.” you roll your eyes, “on me.”

he quickly moves from behind the car to another just a few feet away, and lila looks back at five. “after you.”

the boy is silent as he motions for you to go, and you furrow your eyebrows slightly in confusion but move past them quickly. it takes a minute, but they follow after, and all of you manage to get past everyone and go in through one of the other doors.

slow mariachi music plays and chatter fills the room as you enter, grabbing a drink as a waiter walks by with a tray. you all look around for a moment before diego speaks up. “i don’t see dad anywhere.”

“well, just keep an eye out for the majestic twelve.” you tell him, taking a sip from the drink before setting it down on the table behind you, “we’ve got upstairs?” you look to five and he nods.

“try not to do anything stupid, diego.” you grin as the man looks far from amused by five’s comment, before quickly following the boy through an archway and past a bunch of chattering men, up the staircase that slowly spiraled.

when you get to the second floor, there’s a group of men who file into one of the rooms, and you watch from behind five as the door is shut. slowly moving from behind the wall you had been hiding behind, you glance at five. “the majestic twelve?” you suggest, to which he shrugs.

“could be. you keep an eye out, i’ll be right back.” before you can argue, he’s already disappeared, and you sigh heavily.

after looking down the staircase and deciding nobody would be coming up any time soon, you slip your heels off and take slow steps towards to door, before pressing your ear to it to see if you would be able to pick up on any of the conversation.

when all you hear is the muffled speaking, you curse under your breath, stepping away from the door. suddenly, you bump into someone, and you whirl around to see one of the waiters- or, you supposed, someone dressed as one of the waiters.

“i assume you didn’t come up here to serve drinks?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

he doesn’t say anything and before you know it, he’s grabbed onto you, pulling you forward as you try not to make any noise that would raise suspicion in the room.

before he can swing you into the wall, you manage to grab onto his arms, lighting his sleeves on fire as your hands burst into flames, and he’s caught off guard as he tries to step away and extinguish the fire. you use the distraction to your advantage, the fire burning against your skin quickly dying as you undo the bow around your waist, jumping onto his back and wrapping the ribbon around his neck to pull as hard as you can and choke him.

five blinks back into the hallway a moment late as the man manages to grabs onto your arms, flipping you over onto the floor and effectively knocking the air out of you for a moment.

the boy blinks behind the man, kicking the backs of his knees and causing him to fall to the ground before putting him in a choke hold as you regain your breath and hop up from the ground.

as he pulls five off of himself and gets up, you land a kick on his chest and knock him backward a few steps, before he begins to throw punches, a few of them landing with a harsh impact that makes you groan in pain, both you and five trying to take him down.

you see diego appear from the stairway, but before he can try to help you, he’s dragged back by another man who had wrapped something around his neck. you had been distracted, and the man in front of you managed to land a hard hit on your jaw, causing you to step back with curses flying out of your mouth.

when five starts fighting him off, you see another man show up, starting to punch diego as he’s held back by the other. you take in a sharp breath, “can you handle him?” you yell in question to the boy, who nods while taking punches that make you cringe.

quickly running past the man before he can beat you up more, you sweep the third man’s legs from beneath him, and as he lands on his back you get on top of him, choking him while he tries to swing at you. “it’s not fair to double up on a man, asshole.” you seethe, tightening your grip as diego manages to get out of the other’s hold.

just before you can knock him out, the man beneath you lands a hit to your side, and you lose your hold on his neck as you’re knocked into the wall from the punch. you hold your side as he stands up, and you quickly follow suit.

your attention is caught by the sound of glass shattering, and you see that five had pushed the guy out of the window. a sudden blow to your stomach has you keeling, wrapping your arms around yourself as you curse loudly.

diego had knocked the other swede out and was able to grab onto the man in front of you before he could hit you again. “i got this!” he yells, swinging the guy into the window before starting to land hits on him. “you go with five!”

you’re hesitant, but after a second, you grab your heels from where you left them and run down the stairs, quickly slipping them on as you get to the bottom and you’re surrounded by people again. clearing your throat, you make your way through the crowd and out the door you came in through, managing to find five just as he’s shouting- something you definitely don’t understand- to his dad.

standing next to him as reginald looks to him for a moment, you catch your breath, leaning over and resting your hands on your knees. those guys packed a lot in their punch, and you would definitely be feeling the pain later in the form of bruises.

“okay,” you breathe out once you regain yourself, “you’ve got to teach me whatever the hell that was.”

he looks to you as the car his father had gotten into drove away. “it’s ancient greek.” you raise an eyebrow, nodding slightly.

diego and lila come running out of the building, stopping next to you. “was that him?”

sighing softly, five nods. “yeah.”

taglists

main: @horrorklaus

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty

let’s save the world: @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @wow-lookit-all-the-fandoms @ohmyitsfaith @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @faith-quake @stripedchickens @youcandalekmyballs @pettyjayy @libidinexx @bts-chub @theoriginalkat @flowertoty @whenyouwantdeath @ot7purple @purblerain

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #hargreeves #number five #five #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five x reader #lstw #let's save the world

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daydream-believin · 4 years

Text

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (campfire songspell)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - (part 3) camping and fun fun crush anxiety (part 4)

Warnings: swearing, whole fish-eating, mention of blood, i’ve stopped proofreading shit

Word Count: 3678

a/n: don’t worry there’s no more haunted stuff after this. or missouri. Y/n doesn’t smoke she just feels the need to have a way to set fire to things on her person at all times. a pyromaniac, if you will. also they have been roommates this entire time i just forgot to mention it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Archie was not happy. He couldn’t believe that Douxie would just ditch him like this. It wasn’t like him. Watch the boat, Archie. We’ll be right back, Archie. That was seven hours ago. A rainstorm had come and gone even. He thought for sure that at least Y/n or Nari would have reminded the other two about his situation. But, no, here he was, soaked to the bone and still alone. In Missouri. In misery. As mad as he was though, he was equal parts worried. It wasn’t like Douxie to just forget about him. Something was wrong.

When he finally caught sight of the rest of the party returning to the ship, Arch breathed a sigh of relief. And then got ready to breath fire. Which he quickly put out, after seeing the looks on the kids’ faces once they got close enough. So something was wrong. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“Are you three alright? What happened?”

“Nothing we didn’t survive. Look, we got the tent.” Douxie held up the box to show Archie. He just flicked his tail in response. “It’s already dark, so we’ll tell you all about it while we set up camp. Alright, Arch?”

Archie rolled his eyes. He still thought this camping thing Douxie was pushing was an awful idea. But he’d let his wizard familiar make his own mistakes. He’d been doing a lot of that lately, or, well, more like nine centuries. Tough love. Young wizards cannot learn until they blow up potions in their faces. And this was going to be one of those times. He’d give it till sunrise. Midnight, even. He’d make a bet with himself, if they give up before sunrise, he’d treat himself to some fresh salmon. If they stubbornly don’t give up until after, a can of tuna.

After taking the boat a way into the wooded area they were hiding in, and answering all Archie’s questions, they picked a good place to settle for the night. Or at least Nari did. Douxie and Y/n were still iffy about it. it wasn’t exactly camping spot nirvana, but Nari really took a liking to the spot and its aura or whatever. Eh, she just kind of sniffed the air and told Douxie to stop. She liked the abundance of plant life here. Lots of roots sticking up from the ground, and little berry bushes. Which was going to make for bad ground to bed down on. But that’s alright, they’ll just cushion it with extra blankets. Extra blankets that they did not have. Or even regular blankets. They had no blankets. Fuzzbuckets.

It was going to be ten degrees out later tonight. Well, Douxie guessed they’d have to go back to that ‘huddle together like penguins’ plan. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, now that he’s thinking about it. Cuddling’s pretty nice. A flush spread across Douxie’s freckles. He’d get to embrace Y/n. Pretend like he couldn’t feel how soft her skin was. Pretend like he totally didn’t want to be holding her, but it was essential to their survival so he had to. Archie and Nari would be there too, snuggling with them, so he could pass it off as platonic. But would he want that. Wouldn’t it just hurt when they let go in the morning. After holding onto her for dear life all night, to just get up and act like nothing happened the next day. Would he recover from that? His blush deepened in color. No, they’ll just have to go make another trip to the store. A different store. Hopefully one that’s free of spirits this time.

But he didn’t need to spend time thinking about cuddling his crush. No, he had to set up camp. Y/n was already building the fire. She was half-way through, by the looks of it, and he was just standing here, staring into the tent instructions, blushing away and not comprehending a thing he had read. In fact, he couldn’t seem to read them now that he was focusing. Oh, look at that, they’ve been in Russian this entire time. His blush turned into an embarrassed one. Not only had he been staring off into space, he had been staring into something he couldn’t even pretend like he was reading. Lovely. He hoped no one noticed. Y/n had. Although, she had just assumed he could in fact read the Russian text and didn’t question it. Perks of being a mysterious immortal being. After barely skimming the instructions he could actually understand, Doux took the tent out of the box, to at least make it seem like he had definitely been reading this whole time and he did have the slightest idea of what he was doing.

Douxie checked back to the instructions, careful to make it look like he was just checking back over it, and not reading it for the first time. He added a head nod to make it convincing. Okay, so he needed to spread out the tent. He got down on his knees and rolled out the large bag of nylon in front of him. It took him a minute to get it to where there weren’t any folds and the shape looked right. As right as a saggy boneless tent could look. Alright, now for the poles. Douxie looked around him and found no poles. Where were the poles? Bleeding balroths, did he buy a tent without poles? Oh, no, it appears they were just still in the box. Ain’t that just the way.

Douxie got to work connecting the tent poles. Thankfully, they were connected by some sort of elastic and he didn’t have to figure out which went with which. He found the eyelets they were supposed to go in on the corners and slipped them in. it was a bit tricky, but he managed. He was glad to be able to have something to do with his hands to get his mind off Y/n. The universe did not let him avoid his thoughts for long, however, since now it was time to raise this bloody tent, which required two people, and Archie and Nari were nowhere to be seen. Of course. Y/n was glad to help him raise the tent. She was glad to hold it while he staked it to the ground. She was glad to do anything with Doux. He just felt guilty for asking.

Finally, their new home was up. For the night anyway. Curious, Y/n opened up the zipper door of the tent. It was small, but cozy nonetheless. She poked her head in to get a better look. Doux followed suit. She turned to him, to make some comment about it, but he didn’t hear a word she said. He was too focused on how her face was incredibly close to his face. Her lips, although in the middle of saying something to him, were right next to his. Could she notice he had been looking at her lips? He prayed she couldn’t notice him looking at her lips. She had. Y/n tilted her head in a gesture. She was asking him a question. Quick, response.

“HAAHAHha yes,,” Douxie panicked.

“Oh, ah, okay.” Y/n ducked back out of the tent. Oh Merlin, what did he just say to her.

***

Y/n spent a significant amount of time trying to light the fire, first with her shitty gas station cigarette lighter, then with some spark spells, when Archie came back and lit it with no problem. Damn dragons, always, breathing fire? He wasn’t around while she was struggling either so he couldn’t have helped her sooner. She was sure she had something to be irritated at him about though. He gets to sleep all day and he doesn’t have to pay bills or wear pants. Yeah, there it was. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air. It was fantastic. Y/n took a deep breath. The fire she had built wasn’t exactly a neat log cabin like she had been taught in girl scouts, but it’d work well enough to cook their dinner and keep them warm. Dinner, what were they even eating? Apparently, the answer to that question was trout that Arch caught in the river and some sort of root that Nari dug up. The roots were a bit strange, but Nari had insisted that they were delicious when roasted. Guess it was time to trust the veggie-lady and pray to the stars that they wouldn’t be spending this night poisoned.

The trout was great, although, whole. Y/n wasn’t sure how she felt about how it was looking at her while she ate it. Yeesh Archie, remove the heads? Don’t cats like to decapitate things? But it was a really good trout. Nice smoky flavor from the fire, seasoned with herbs that Nari picked. Douxie liked it, not seeming to mind the still intact head as much. He ate two. Y/n had no idea how he could fit two whole trout in his stomach but he did just that and ate some of Nari’s roasted tubers too. Speaking of which, they actually weren’t that bad. In fact, Y/n found herself eating quite a lot more of them than she expected. A quick google search revealed that they were something called a fairy spud. Y/n made a mental note to go look for some when she got home. If she got home. Maybe home would be different by the time they were safe from the Order. Maybe they’d make a new home. Of course, they’d have to since Douxie fucking burned down the apartment they shared along with their place of business. Her roommate could be a real dummy sometimes, but that was okay, it was entertaining. And cute. His recklessness was very cute. She’d even call it endearing.

The fire cracked loudly, scaring Y/n out of her revelry. Douxie had also jumped beside her. It was a very loud crack indeed. Archie looked smug. Y/n wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was pride for the trout that he had caught himself. Y/n wasn’t about to pretend to know what went on in an ancient cat-dragon’s head. And she had been taught not to meddle in the affairs of dragons, for she would be quite tasty baked into a blood pie.

She wasn’t sure what was hotter, the fire or her face. Y/n supposed that she was lucky for that fire, to blame on for her flushed cheeks. Douxie was not only sitting beside her, but right beside her. They were just sitting on the still-damp ground, there was plenty of space. He had said something about the smoke being too annoying over on the other side, but that didn’t mean he had to sit so close to her. Not that she didn’t want to be sitting right next to him. She’d focus on the fire, she loved fire. Just focus on the flickers and the popping and the smell. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him next to her. It was just, a little much right now. Too romantic. It was like Douxie and the fucking universe were conspiring to take her out. In both senses of the word. Stars, they were practically all alone out here, sitting by the fire, rubbing shoulders, and oh look at that, he’s got a guitar now.

Douxie had gotten a bit bored just staring into the fire, and desperately needed to distract himself from the fact that he just sat so close to Y/n. Why the hell would he do that. She had noticed, he just knew she had noticed. Time to salvage his pride. What better way to fix all those problems than with some good ol’ fashioned campfire songs? Luckily, he always had a great instrument with him now. Transfiguring his staff, he started to play. He’d stay away from the rock and roll for now since it was literally ten o’clock at night and they didn’t need any park rangers showing up. At first, he just played some classics with the volume turned down, then just practiced some riffs for a while, but once he noticed both Y/n and Nari get noticeably sleepy, he switched to a softer, sweeter melody. His fingers expertly plucked at the guitar strings, and also Y/n’s heartstrings in the process. It was such a beautiful lullaby he was playing. She wished she could hear him play it every night.

Nari was the first to head into the tent for the night. She curled up in one of the corners. Y/n would follow her, but Doux was still playing that lullaby, and she didn’t want to miss a note. It was like it was putting, well, a spell on her. She had a really hard time keeping her eyes open despite her will to keep listening to him, but Douxie picked up on it, stopping to her dismay.

“Come on, Love,” He scooped her up as if she were a child, “Let’s get you to bed,”

He carried her to the tent, but stopped dead in his tracks at the entrance. Fuzzbuckets, he forgot about the no-blanket problem. Archie was going to stay awake and keep the fire going through the night, so the cold was no longer a problem, but the ground was going to be hard and lumpy. Their backs were going to be incredibly sore in the morning. Great. He’d let Y/n use his chest as a pillow. No hidden motives here, it was just chivalry. Once they settled into a comfortable and totally not weird position, they began to enjoy a peaceful night sleep to the sounds of nature. Which lasted half an hour before the tent decided that was enough.

It kept shaking, as if someone or something was assaulting it. But whenever one of them got out to fend off the attacker, no one or thing was out there. And Archie was out there, watching it, and he reported nothing unusual. So, maybe the tent they bought from a haunted store was haunted. Who could have predicted that. Oh well, it’s not like it was that endangering, just annoying. They tried their best to ignore it.

But haunted tent did not like being ignored. That lovely woodsmoke smell shifted into, something strange, like, diet blood? The sickly smell of blood but lighter, gentler, and faint. As if the tent wanted to scare them but wasn’t really into it today. Again, not really that endangering as it was annoying so they elected to ignore that also. Nari didn’t seem to be on board with that decision however, and left to go lay by the fire with Archie. Douxie was acutely aware of the head resting on his chest. He was trying his best to control his heart rate and was failing. There was no way Y/n couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could do this. Lady Fortune smiled upon Doux. The tent abruptly collapsed in on them.

***

So plan B was to find an inn for the night. After making sure the fire was out, they headed off into town on foot. It was eerily empty, nothing but the occasional car passing through town, but they were in middle-of-nowhere Missouri. The lack of nightlife at could be excused. It was two in the morning; most townies weren’t out partying. The traffic lights reflected off the pavement. It was odd seeing the lights run with nothing there at the intersection, like they were directing invisible traffic. As if there were ghost cars. Maybe they should just get out of this town actually. And they would have, if they weren’t so exhausted that they felt like zombies. Absolutely knackered.

There were exactly three inns in this dinky little town. One that was very fancy, in which they couldn’t even afford to stay in a broom closet at, one that was run-down and cheap, but full, and the last one, their only available option, which was somehow even more run-down and sketchy than the other. Just looking at the outside of it, it was pretty obviously haunted. Or it could be that the people who worked there were really committed to Halloween decoration and got an early start this year. Yeah. The man at the front desk wasn’t exactly a friendly character either. All in all a bit dodgy. Y/n was getting quite antsy, and not only from the creepy vibe. This was the last-resort inn, and with the other one full, there was a good chance that this one might not have the most ideal rooms available. And she had read enough cheesy fanfiction in her life to know exactly where this was headed.

Sure enough, the gentlemen at the front desk informed them that the only room they had left was in fact that famous room with only one bed. She’d snort if this wasn’t killing her inside. She quickly put up a poker face. Douxie balked at the information, but they were desperate, so he quietly accepted his fate and took the room key. Lady Fortune could be kind of a bitch actually. The journey down the hall was awkward as hell. Nari wasn’t sure what was going on, but she didn’t like the atmosphere. She looked up at Y/n and took her hand. Y/n smiled down at the forest child. Nari didn’t return the smile.

They entered the room and took it all in. The first noticeable thing was the smell. Not blood this time thankfully, but stale dust and mothballs. They could work with mothballs. Nari wasn’t visibly repulsed by mothballs. The carpet was sticky. It’d be best not to think about why. There was that cursed full size bed. The only bed left and it’s not even a queen. Douxie and Y/n weren’t even going to be able to have any distance between them. Douxie took a deep breath. There was a shabby little dresser with a tv from the 70’s perched upon it. You know the ones with the rounded screens, big dials, and bunny ear antennas? Y/n wasn’t even going to try turning that on. She got the feeling whatever was on the local channels was not something she’d want to see. She’d not even check the news station for the weather report. Whatever stories were newsworthy in this town was not something she wished to know about either. There was a small armchair in the corner. The floral fabric was torn, revealing that it had been reupholstered recently. Nari took a liking to it and curled up for the night. Archie joined her and got comfortable. Doux cursed under his breath. He had been counting on Archie staying in the bed with them, to make it less awkward.

Y/n was sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, dragging her fingers through her hair. Douxie put some protective wards around the door. He’d ward up the windows too, but there weren’t any. It added to the suffocating feeling in his chest. Y/n added some purification spells to keep out any less-physical surprise guests. Walking over to the chair, Doux took off his jacket and laid it over Nari and Arch. They looked cozy. He was glad someone would get a good rest out of this. He was sure Y/n would too. It was just him with this bloody problem. He’s the fool who caught feelings here. He must surely be mad. She finished combing out her hair and snuggled under the covers. Guess it’s time for him to get in too now. In the bed. Next to her. All domestic and such.

It only took but a few seconds before Y/n was out like a light. All that sleepiness and such. Despite being the sleep deprived one here, he was wide awake unlike her. The moment the receptionist had told him there was only one bed left, it was like he took a double shot of espresso. Nervous energy, straight into his veins. He normally wouldn’t sleep like this, stiff as a board on his back, but he wouldn’t dare move. They were so close. She still smelled like the fireside, a welcome change from the staleness of the air, yet still a reminder of just her close she was. It was so quiet in the room, all Douxie could hear was the faint blowing of the vent and the pounding of the drum in his own chest. And her breathing, Merlin, he could hear her breathing. It was so soft. He unconsciously synchronized his own breath to it. He wondered how she looked right now, all cozy and asleep. Surely, she looked adorable. Maybe her hair was in her face. Perhaps she was even drooling. He dared not look over to see.

Lady Fortune cackled. Y/n turned over in her sleep, and latched onto Douxie. Oh fuzzbuckets, bleeding balroths, by Merlin, Mordrax’s miracles, fuck. She wrapped her arms right around his chest and nuzzled into it. His face was fire engine red. Whatever chill left in the air was now gone. Her soft hair was tickling his face. She was obviously still asleep right now, and thought that she was cuddling a pillow, or stuffed animal, or, or whatever she cuddled. What was he supposed to do about this? What the hell was he supposed to do. Did he cuddle back? He wanted to cuddle back. He couldn’t cuddle back. He took a deep, calming breath. He should just try to get her off. After, several attempts however, he realized that wasn’t going to happen without waking her up. And he did not want to wake her. He accepted his fate once again tonight. He could feel both his willpower and consciousness fading. Might as well enjoy these last few moments while they lasted, too. It could quite possibly be the only time he’d ever get to fall asleep next to her. In her tender arms. Getting to not just listen to but also feel her breathe. Truly a bittersweet thing.

***

a/n 2: ha! here you go, not one but two glorious there’s only one bed moments. my rite of passage as a fanfic writer. stay tuned next time for oh my god they were roommates

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan #my writing #the never ending roadtrip

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irrlicht-writes · 3 years

Text

the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

“Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn’t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

“A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

“Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

“Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

“Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

“I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

#supernatural #Destiel #castiel #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #eileen leahy #writing #spn fix it #spn 15x20 #fanfiction #hurt #hurt/comfort #dean x castiel #userpris

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omniswords · 4 years

Note

#24 for felinette!!!!!!!! 🗣

24. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

leave me a pairing and a number and i’ll write you a kiss!

ma’am i stayed up until 4am writing this nonsense, you’re WELCOME.

still connected to #12 and #16 because we love fake not-dating-shenanigans 😏

He’s really got to stop ending up at functions like this. And this one has to be even worse than the New Year’s Eve party.

Félix has never been one for anniversaries—never really saw the significance of them. So you’ve gone around the sun with someone twenty-five goddamn times. Or without someone for six. So what? No reason to commemorate it with the nonsense of balloons and music and food and… other people.

He wouldn’t say he’s spent the majority of the Bourgeois’ 25th anniversary party sulking, although he’s pretty sure it’s the word other people might use to describe him. Especially Mr. and Mrs. Bourgeois themselves, who are apparently bickering over the placement of the baby grand piano as though something like that can be fixed in the middle of an event. And especially Chloé, who—perfectly on brand, even at age twenty—is fawning over her mother and staring at him as if to say, don’t ruin this for me.

As though this is her thing to have ruined.

Besides. He’s not sulking. He’s just very much preferring to be literally anywhere else, the way anyone else with a brain might feel. In fact, the only part of this whole affair that’s been even remotely palatable is the fact that the Dupain-Cheng family is catering. And it’s not because of the food.

Well.

Not necessarily.

It’s because Marinette’s helping. And as much as he needs to keep the opinion to himself, she’s very much a sight for sore eyes in the Grand Paris. Dressed in a black-and-white dress she mentioned making herself, and with her hair in a high ponytail, she pays more attention to her parents and the platters on the table in front of her than to the overly dignified laughter around her.

Admittedly, they haven’t been able to interact much; they agreed on that much as recently as the night before, along with a promise to make up the lost quality time later. This is her summer job, after all, and she says that means something to her. Besides, he has to make himself a certain percent sociable—with the Bourgeois family, with the Tsurugis, even with the Rossis—so everyone and their cousin doesn’t write him off as the Fitzwilliam Darcy of the Agreste/Graham de Vanily family.

(He doesn’t see what the big deal of that is, though. In fact, Marinette would probably agree with him, with that silly little giggle of hers hiding behind her sketchbook, and he’d think, perhaps, that she’d make the perfect Elizabeth.)

Still, it doesn’t sit with him particularly well to ignore her or otherwise treat her just like “the help”—if there’s anything his parents taught him besides their version of love, it’s to thank and remember the names of every person regardless of position. And on top of that, she’s been stealing more than her fair share of glances over at him, as if to invite him over. As if, for a moment or two, she might need some reprieve of her own.

He won’t tell anyone what a sucker he is for the blue in her eyes. He’ll take that to his grave.

It’s just as Félix is getting to his feet and making his way to her table, though, that Lila Rossi decides to try and make herself known. Again. He sighs; he really thought she would have gotten the hint by now. But apparently Lila is nothing if not persistent, even years later, and the way she greets him and all but latches onto his arm is so disgustingly syrupy that he feels the sudden urge to run upstairs and brush his teeth. “Isn’t it lovely?” she says, her fingers curling impossibly tight into the sleeve of his button-up shirt. “Twenty-five years. Can you imagine being invested in someone for so long? It must be beautiful…”

Félix declines to answer, feels his own eyes going dark, and finds a strange solace in the way Marinette, out of the corner of his eye, stiffens and clenches her fist at her side.

“Can’t you picture it?” Lila’s going on as they approach the catering table—doesn’t she ever get tired of hearing herself talk?—and she attempts to slip her hand into his. Smoothly and without missing a beat, he swipes his hand away, sticking it in his pocket with a pointed look. Manners be damned; he’d rather choke on a macaron than hold Lila Rossi’s hand. A cloud passes over her face, subtle and on the edges of manipulative where Chloé would burst out, but otherwise she doesn’t seem fazed. She’s probably developed more resolve, or perhaps more poison, ever since Adrien made it more than clear to her that his interests lay elsewhere. “Haven’t you considered it, Félix? My family’s done some lovely work in England—they’re Italian ambassadors, did you know?”

“Yes,” Félix manages to deadpan, acutely aware of how Marinette turns away from them to unpack another box of ridiculous paper straws. “In fact, Miss Rossi, you’ve told me so frequently that I may very well develop that tinnitus you so often complained about before.” He tilts his head, deeply feels the shift in Marinette’s energy and how hard she must be trying to stifle her own laughter. “Remind me, have you gotten that checked out?”

Marinette has to dip behind the table; he has to try not to smile. If he can’t talk to her directly, he might as well amuse her.

“Oh!” Lila says. “You remembered. Yes, yes, of course I did. It took some extensive treatment, but the doctors say I should be cured by now. It’s miraculous, isn’t it?” She gives her hair a flip. “But really, Félix, you’ll consider what I’ve told you, won’t you? I hear your family’s in the film business, and—wouldn’t you know it, I’ve done quite a few photoshoots with your cousin. I’m sure he could put in a good word for me with your mother. Think about it, us starring opposite each other—”

Félix suppresses a sigh, honestly about to tell her that if she had any sense of his family, he would have known that his aunt was the actress. But before he can so much as open his mouth, Marinette clears her throat to get their attention. Her expression is sour, and her arms are folded. “If you’re not going to take any refreshments,” she chides, “I’m going to ask you make way for those who are. And by the way, it might help you to know that merit and tact get you much farther in life than empty flattery.” She clicks her tongue, tightens the apron at her waist, and turns on her heel. “You should try it sometime, Miss Rossi.”

He knows that expression. The Customer Service Smile, she branded it. It’s half-terrifying, seeing her actually unleash it. Half-terrifying, and half-vindicating.

From the corner of the hotel lobby, Chloé’s mouth falls open in elated shock. Adrien and Kagami pause their hushed conversation to look their way. And Lila turns a deep, angry scarlet. (Oh, Marinette’s gotten so good at getting to her. Perfect, perfect Elizabeth.) In seconds, she’s composed herself, thankfully all but unraveled herself from Félix, and she approaches Marinette’s parents—who are honestly lovely people, and don’t deserve whatever’s about to come to them. (Especially Mrs. Cheng. She’s snuck him into the house too many times.)

They don’t get it. Whatever words Lila’s gathering, whatever excuse me she’s trying to preface it with, Félix doesn’t let it out, and it’s certainly not for her sake or for the Bourgeois family. “Thank you,” he cuts in with a cordial smile, careful not to shake Mrs. Cheng’s hand while she’s handling food. “You’ve been doing wonderful work for this event. Might you permit Miss Dupain-Cheng a short break? I’m sure she could use one.”

It’s practically textbook. Compliment. Persuade. Twist the knife with a little kindness. Perhaps Lila Rossi hasn’t learned all the tricks just yet.

And he certainly won’t let her.

Marinette’s parents look to her, and she looks to Félix, and he raises an eyebrow, as if to say, You gave me an out. Now it’s my turn. She hesitates a moment, then gathers herself. “Actually,” she says, as if finding a second wind, “a break would be really nice. Papa, could you text me when you need me back?”

Her father lets her go—he’s always been good about giving her the things she needs, which is sometimes more than he could say about his own. None too quickly, she undoes her apron, takes a deep breath to center herself, and disappears into the carpeted corridor by the elevators. And Félix, with that twist-the-knife bow and a macaron in hand, dismisses himself from Lila Rossi and finds a new corner to occupy.

There. Now no one can say he doesn’t talk to anyone. And no one can say he sulks.

———

He makes it about three-fourths of the way through the macaron before he finds his out to the corridor. It’s fine; he knows he won’t be missed, and he made sure Lila was properly occupied when he slipped away. She can’t follow him if she doesn’t know where he’s going, after all.

Almost predictably, Marinette is still outside the elevators, pacing back and forth in front of them and only making way for the people coming out. She catches his eye and pauses mid-step, and then collapses by one of the carpeted staircases with her head in her hands. “That was stupid,” she mumbles. “I was stupid.”

Félix doesn’t give her what she’s probably looking for. Instead, he holds his hand out to her and says, “Come with me. It’s suffocating, being in there.”

To his relief, Marinette takes the out. Her hand feels so small and so soft in his as he helps her up, and they slip into one of the elevators; all at once, he’s grateful for the hotel room that accompanied his invitation. They don’t say much, don’t do much even though they finally have the privacy for it. In fact, Marinette doesn’t crack until the elevator door closes behind them and they’ve begun to stroll down the blissfully quiet hallway. “I was working,” she sighs. “And I get it, it wasn’t professional of me to say something like that on the job. Especially during someone’s entire anniversary.”

“On the contrary,” he says, his hand finding a home at the small of her back; he’s relieved that she doesn’t protest, and instead leans into the touch for comfort. “I’ve never heard someone vocalize a middle finger quite as subtly and as eloquently as you.”

“It was hypocritical, Fé,” she points out. “You know I used my connections to get into university, too.”

Félix gives her the type of look that he hopes says, are you kidding me. “You asked for letters of recommendation. Which, as you may recall, is standard for university applications?”

Marinette looks like she wants to find other points to argue, like she’s really racking her brain for it. Eventually she stops, and sighs, and unties and reties her hair. Which is killing him on the inside, but he doesn’t dare say so just yet. Not when she’s still got steam to blow. “I’m sorry,” she finally says. “I should have let you handle it. You can hold your own.”

“Oh, please. To me, she’s a nuisance at best. A sycophant and a sour taste in my mouth. To you, she’s been a terror.” He tosses her a smirk. “I’m impressed that you have the capacity to dislike someone so deeply and so honorably. I should’ve expected something like that from you.” He glances behind them, just to make sure they’re truly alone, before he slips an arm around her waist, pulls her close and murmurs against the shell of her ear. “Were you jealous, love?”

It works. He can practically feel out her goosebumps, the way her muscles relax, with every sense he has. “Félix…”

“Well?” He hardly moves away from her, noses right into the flyaway hairs her elastic didn’t catch, into the sugar-and-almond scent she’s been carrying all day. “Were you?”

Marinette doesn’t bother to look his way. She stares straight ahead, and folds her arms across her chest. “Why should I be jealous?” she says. “You’re mine.”

Dear God. If he wasn’t attracted to her before, he certainly is now. He can feel the flare of it in the pit of his stomach, and before even he knows it he’s kissing the comebacks off of her tongue, pressing her against the wall just a few doors down from his room. He sighs, all but covering her mouth with his, and his hands catch on her dress on the way to tugging her hair tie out and securing it around his wrist for safekeeping. He always knew that sleight of hand would prove useful someday. “Yours, huh?” he hums in between kisses. “Is that how you feel?”

“I’m not wrong,” Marinette argues back, tugging him back in by the lapels of his jacket, and he’s far too busy tangling his fingers in her hair and mouthing down her neck to dispute it. And even if he weren’t busy, he certainly wouldn’t want to. Not when she sounds like that.

He pauses to laugh into her ear, her hair spilling over her shoulders as his hands find a home at her waist. “Don’t you have guests to cater to?”

Her lips are as red as her cheeks, and as far as he’s concerned her eyes are hooded beyond redemption. “Don’t you have a couple to congratulate?”

“Why should I? I’ve got something worth celebrating right here.” He grins faintly, steals another searing kiss, runs his hands up and down her sides and jumps at the opportunity to slip tongue when she gasps. “And she looks so good in wrinkles and a peter pan collar.”

Marinette’s breath hitches.

Bingo. And here she probably thought he didn’t pay attention to her fashion rambles.

Her eyes are sparkling by the time he pulls back enough to look at her. She looks him up and down, stops his hands, gives them a squeeze.

“Where’s your room?”

#miraculous ladybug #felinette #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #fake not dating au #kiss meme #listen we're just all going to be okay with the fact that i wrote 2.5k for this request #and be done with it #SMASH THAT REBLOG BUTTON BABIES #jadysal #answers

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minimitchell · 3 years

Text

benmitchellweek day 5 - “is that supposed to be a challenge?” (ao3 link)

Ben doesn’t actually need to do any washing at the laundromat. They have a perfectly good washing machine at the house. It’s just that the one time Karen asked him to drop by the laundrette because she had something for Lexi, there was this guy sitting in one of the chairs by the machines, completely engrossed in a book.

And because Ben is a complete idiot, he purposefully went by the laundrette as often as he could to find out if that guy using it was a one off or if he goes there regularly, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to ask Karen about him.

He feels a bit like some creepy stalker but it only takes him a couple of weeks to figure out that the guy does his washing there every two weeks on a Friday afternoon, always round about the same time.

He doesn’t know what it is about the guy, they haven’t even spoken or anything, but there is just something to him that captures Ben's attention in a way no one has done for a very long time. He thinks it’s maybe the nicely-kept stubble that decorates his cheeks or the soft looking brown hair. Or maybe it’s the absolutely captivating blue of his eyes that he got to see when their eyes met that one time he was passing by.

Whatever it is, it’s enough to make Ben regress into a teenager with a crush again, trying to get the cute guy to notice him. He must be new around here, since Albert Square is a place where everyone knows everyone and he definitely doesn’t know who this guy is. He’d like to, but he doesn’t. He hasn’t seen him around the market, or in the chippy, or even in the Vic and it only adds to this weird fascination Ben has developed.

A fascination he’s tried hard to keep hidden, especially from the mother of his child, but apparently he hasn’t been as successful as he thought he’d been.

“Ben, you can’t go there every week until he notices you. It’s dead creepy.”

“Is that supposed to be a challenge?”

Lola’s rolling her eyes at him over her cup of coffee, checking to see if their daughter is still playing idly on the swings. They’ve used the rare occurrence where they both have the afternoon off to take her to the park and it made Ben realize that he has missed spending time with both of them like this. Yeah, they live together but they rarely spend time together as just the three of them. Normally, they’re always doing something with his mum, or his dad, or Jay. And while he loves the rest of his family, it’s still nice to spend time with his mate and their daughter.

Even if all she does is tease him about his crush on laundromat guy.

“So ask him out next time.”

Ben shakes his head while taking a sip from his own coffee, giving his daughter a cheer when she screams over at them to look how high she’s getting.

“I can’t. I’ve never said a word to him before.”

“So you just sit in the same room as him and stare at him until your washing is done? That’s somehow even worse, Ben. Besides, that fact has never stopped you before, has it?”

This is different though. He doesn’t want to pick the guy up and take him home with him. He wants to get to know him, maybe go to dinner with him and listen to him talk about the book he’s currently reading. It’s a new thing for him; to be so invested in someone he doesn’t know that the physical aspect of it all doesn’t even come into play until later. It’s unnerving to say the least, because it means that he’s completely out of his element with this.

Not that he’s going to give any of that information to Lola right now. She’ll only tease him more, call him ‘in love’ probably.

He’s about to give a retort when he catches a glimpse of tall brown hair and that lean body across the square. The guy’s stepping out of his brother’s old restaurant they’ve been trying to sell for a while now, some papers in one hand while shaking his mum’s with the other.

“Shit, Lo, that’s him.”

Lola follows his gaze to laundromat guy and they’re both watching him say goodbye to Ben’s mother with a bright smile on his face, before he disappears down the street.

“Oh, he’s fit. If he ain’t gay send him my way, please.”

“For your fiancé and my brothers sake, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

They exchange a small laugh with each other, knowing it’s all in jest.

“You should ask your mom what they were doing though. Saves you from stalking that poor bloke any longer.”

-----

Turns out, laundromat guy’s name is Callum and he’s the one who bought his brother’s old space. Apparently, he’s new here and plans to open his own restaurant. He’s only a few years older than Ben and is a very nice, young man - according to his mother anyway. She also informs him that she’s invited Callum to this week’s Friday dinner. A fact, that Ben only freaks out about a little. Honestly.

The day the dinner finally rolls around he’s more than a little nervous. No one but Lola knows about his little infatuation with Callum and he desperately hopes that no one will embarrass him tonight. If everything goes well, he’s going to ask Callum out on a date later and hopefully, they’ll end up dating and Callum can cook delicious food for him for the rest of their lives. At least, that’s what Ben envisions.

Him and Lola are already settled around the laid table, while Lexi is still upstairs washing her hands and his mom is putting the finishing touches on their dinner, when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, I’ll get it. That must be Callum.”

His mom is practically running from the kitchen at the sound, almost looking like she’s the one hoping to score a date with Callum. Ben looks over at the doorway when the sound of two voices mingling gets louder, trying to ignore Lola’s teasing smile next to him, failing to not get lost in the smooth tones of Callum’s voice.

Ben feels his mouth go a little dry when they finally step into the living room, because Callum looks gorgeous. He’s wearing a crisp, white dress shirt and tight, black jeans and his hair is as nicely gelled as it normally is when they’re seeing each other at the laundrette. He’s still holding a bottle of wine in his hands and Ben is overcome with the urge to feel one of his large hands in his.

His eyes shine with recognition when he meets Ben’s gaze and he sends him a small smile; one, Ben can’t help but return.

“Callum, this is Ben and Lola. Lola’s fiancé Jay is joining us later, he’s still at work.”

“And our daughter Lexi is still upstairs but she’s going to, no doubt, bombard you with questions about your restaurant soon.”

Callum lets out a small laugh at that, although he momentarily had a weird look on his face when Ben mentioned their daughter. He really hopes that it isn’t down to Callum not liking kids; it’d definitely be a dealbreaker for Ben.

The dinner goes extremely well, despite the awkwardness from earlier. Callum is great with Lexi; answering every single one of her questions with ease and patience and Lola had to nudge him quite a bit to not overdo the heart eyes when looking at Callum interacting with his daughter. He’s charming and funny and honestly has a great vision for his future restaurant.

Ben is nothing short of enamored with him.

Somehow, they find themselves in the kitchen together. Ben did some washing up so that his mum could sit back and relax a little and Callum joined him when he came in to get another beer. It’s almost sickenly domestic and once they were done with it, they stayed in here to continue chatting in peace, away from the loud chatter that’s filling up the living room, especially with Jay having joined them now.

It’s nice; they’ve figured out that they have quite a lot in common and Ben is almost certain that Callum is flirting with him from time to time. One thing in particular they’ve learned is that they’re both gay.

“Oh, I assumed because of Lexi that you’re straight. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a long story, but I’m definitely into guys.”

“Good to know.”

They’re just swaying back and forth in his kitchen, matching dopey smiles on their faces, and Ben is pretty sure that Callum’s going to say yes to that date after all. It makes him giddy with excitement; warmth and hope blooming in his chest at the prospect of it. He’s about to ask Callum, when the door opens and Jay walks in, straight to the fridge and completely unaware of the obvious, romantic tension filling the kitchen. Callum doesn’t seem that bothered though, not really paying Jay any more attention right now.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to come say hi when I saw you at the laundrette. I don’t know why I didn’t, but maybe next time we could go grab a coffee while we’re waiting?”

Ben is ready to say yes to Callum’s suggestion when Jay turns around and gives them a confused look, interrupting their moment.

“What are you going to the laundrette for? You have a perfectly fine washing machine right here.”

Jay doesn’t stick around for the fallout; only shaking his head and exiting the kitchen again, leaving Ben behind to drown in embarrassment. When he opens his eyes again - and when had he closed them anyway - Callum is looking at him with barely concealed amusement and Ben would really like the ground to swallow him up right now, please and thank you.

“Okay so I might’ve gone there a few times just to see you. I’d love to go for that coffee though, if you still want to.”

When Callum steps forward into his space, he settles both of his hands on Ben’s neck, using them to pull him the rest of the way into his own body. Ben thinks it’s heavenly how great they fit together until Callum seals their lips together in a soft kiss and then he knows what’s really heaven - the feeling of Callum’s lips on his own and his skin under Ben’s fingertips.

It’s only a short kiss but it leaves Ben with an explosion of butterflies in his stomach, spreading all the way throughout his body.

“I still want to.”

Ben can’t wait for it. He’ll ask about Callum cooking him dinner later.

#ballum #ballum fic #benmitchellweek2020 #bm2020 #my writing #i'm a little late today.. not that it matters much

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Written In The Stars CXIV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Book 6 is oficially finished but I still have a lot of editing to do bc I still don’t like it much jsdjs -Danny

Words: 3,387

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listent to: ‘Say Something’ -by A Great Big World

Chapter Twelve: The New Routine.

Mel was making zero progress on Occlumency, but she was quite good at Legilimency.

She blamed this on the fact that she was now having one lesson every two weeks instead of once a week, which made her progress go slower.

Thankfully though, Dumbledore hadn't mentioned his brother at all, so she assumed her grandad had kept things to himself. On Monday, the girl walked into the common room and noticed a small group of her friends around the notice board.

— by order of—

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)...

Mel stormed out of the place. She didn't speak until she reached the Gryffindor table at the Great Hall. Fred, George, Neville, Ginny and Dean sat around her.

"We didn't say a thing."

"We promise, Mel."

"I know you didn't," She said. "Hermione jinxed the parchment you signed, she told me yesterday. You wouldn't be all lively have you been the ones to blame."

"What was supposed to happen?"

"Dunno, but it was supposed to hurt and it was supposed to be noticeable," She forced a spoonful of cereal down her throat, just to have something to do and calm her spirits.

"No one looks injured," Ginny looked around the Great Hall. "Most of the people that were in the meeting are here, but we would've heard if any had woken up with their faces all messed up, right?"

Mel dropped her spoon.

"I told Hermione this would happen! If my Grandfather wasn't the one–"

"Your grandfather?" Neville asked.

"–Then someone heard us, someone who clearly doesn't want us to learn," She ignored Neville's question.

Hermione, Harry and Ron sat close to the group, immediately they all dropped questions on them as well.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to do it anyway, of course," Harry looked at her. "If that's okay with you."

"Why wouldn't it be?" She asked grumpily. "Oh, how I'm wishing to vanish that silly grin of the Toad's face..."

"Knew you'd say that," George hit Harry's arm lightly.

"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking over at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course."

"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron worryingly. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith... and no one looks very spotty."

"Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious — sit down!" She gestured to rejoin their tables. "Later! We'll — talk — to — you — later!"

"I'll take care of them," Mel got up.

"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny, getting up as well. "The fool, honestly... are you all right?"

"Peachy," She replied dryly.

"I saw the way Cho and Harry were ogling at each other the day of the meeting... I'm sorry."

"I don't care," Mel raised a brow, still looking forward. "I'm actually considering asking Fred on a date, you know?"

Before she could hear Ginny's reaction, she quickly approached Hannah and Ernie.

"Morning, guys!" Mel smiled tightly, putting her arms around their shoulders. "Come, let's go to your table..."

"Mel, have you seen–?"

"I have," She insisted, turning them around gently. "Now let's go to your table so we can talk about it calmly..."

"We need permission to re-form the Quidditch team," Ron told her as soon as they sat down to hear Binn's lecture"

"I know, it said so in the parchment," Mel gave him a sorrowful look. "Don't worry Ron, she can't forbid the team to play, it would be unfair, and as long as Harry doesn't give her more reasons to punish him everything will turn out fine."

"Did Ernie and Hannah gave you trouble?"

"Not at all, they were quite understanding," She smiled softly. "I like them, they're good... Very discrete as well, promised they would let their friends know but only when they were sure they were the only ones listening, so you can cross Zach out of your list, he didn't spill the potion."

Twenty minutes into the lesson Hedwig appeared in the window seal, Harry went to get her and came back with a dreadful discovery.

"Oh, Merlin..." Mel gasped in horror.

The bird's wing was twisted in a way it shouldn't have been possible. It was obvious that she was not okay.

Harry stood up and told Professor Bins he didn't feel well, and he needed to go to the hospital wing. Most of their classmates glanced curiously at them but didn't stop him from leaving. The expression on his face was enough to break her heart. Harry was extremely worried about Hedwig, and she was too.

She wondered how was he taking all the news, must've been frustrating for him, after being so excited about standing up for what he believed in. She tried to talk to him after breakfast, but the words simply didn't come, she felt stuck, not knowing how to interact with him anymore.

"Poor Hedwig!" Ron frowned. "It's weird, she'd never been injured before, had she? D'you reckon she was attacked by another animal?"

"This is too much of a coincidence," Mel shook her head, "first the notice board, now this... they're watching us, every form of communication..."

Then it occurred to her. Not every form of communication was being watched, she still had one.

"I need to talk to Erick," She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out her watch.

"Why him?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you really think he has the solution for everything?"

"No you dunce," Mel scowled at him. "But for this particular problem, he does..."

She tapped the front of her watch with her wand, then she closed it and held onto it tightly.

"I hope so, at least."

"Who's the letter from anyway?" asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.

"Snuffles," said Harry quietly.

" 'Same time, same place'? Does he mean the fire in the common room?"

"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this..."

"But it was still sealed and everything, and nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"

"I guess so..." Mel put a hand in her pocket and touched her watch. She was hoping her friend could make it on time. "We need to be smarter, though. She clearly has gone through it all."

"It wouldn't be exactly difficult to reseal the scroll by magic..." Hermione agreed. "And if anyone's watching the Floo Network... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted too!"

Draco Malfoy was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around a piece of parchment and talking in the tone Mel knew he only used when he wanted to show off, which was always.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straight away, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered. "It's what he wants..."

"I mean, if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... And as for Potter... My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's... apparently, they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic... reckon the Dumbledores would feel at home there as well."

Before Mel could stop him, Neville launched himself towards the Slytherins.

"Neville, no!" Harry seized the back of Neville's robes. Malfoy could not believe his eyes. "Help me!"

Crabbe and Goyle closed in front of Malfoy. Mel stepped forward, trying to stand as tall as she could. Ron grabbed the boy's arms and he and Harry dragged Neville away.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Mel said quietly, so calm and composed she surprised herself. "You're way slower than me even with your wands ready. Get lost."

"Not... funny... don't... Mungo's... show... him..." She heard Neville panting behind her.

"I know, Neville," She said, though she kept her eyes fixed on the Slytherin boys. "He didn't mean to be so stupid. Right, Malfoy? Aren't you going to ask them to stop, Prefect?"

Malfoy, maybe because he could sense he wouldn't be able to win this fight, growled to Crabbe and Goyle to step back.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape walked out of the dungeons.

Mel turned to the boys and mouthed 'let him go!'. The boys obeyed her right away.

"He was feeling ill, Professor," She turned around and held Snape's sneer.

"Inside. All of you." He said shortly before entering his dungeon again.

Neville turned to look at his friends in a way he'd never done before.

"I had to stop you," Harry said slowly, picking up their friend's bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."

"I would never let that happen," Mel walked up to Neville and put a hand on his shoulder. "You hear me, Nev? I would never."

Neville remained quiet, he brushed off her hand and snatched his bag away from Harry's grip. Entering the room in a flash.

"What in the name of Merlin," said Ron in awe, "was that about?"

Harry and Mel were aware of Neville's parents, but it was still a secret, much like every thing in her life right now. Harry said nothing, he was looking at her with a strange scowl, she felt like he was almost mad she had decided to step in. Mel didn't care about it, she let out a tired sigh.

"Everyone has their limits, Ron. Malfoy found his..."

She passed the table she would usually occupy with the group and instead joined Neville, thinking he would be needing extra help being too distracted to pay attention to the lesson.

"I don't need–"

"No need to act all tough and proud," Mel sat down determinedly. "I'm not here to pity you. I'm here to make sure you don't blow up anything."

He lowered his gaze to his cauldron, he didn't try to usher her away after that.

"You will notice," said Snape suddenly, "that we have a guest with us today."

Umbridge was sitting at the darkest corner of the dungeon, it surprised her how she hadn't noticed her there, even though she was wearing her usual blinding pick robes.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend — instructions... on the board. Carry on."

Mel poured her whole attention on her work, she made sure Neville could be a decent student this time as well. She would glance from time to time to Umbridge, trying to guess what she was doing.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," Umbridge commented to Snape. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus. Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen years."

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

"Obviously."

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes..."

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?"

"Because Snape's a git," Mel mumbled under her breath.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape dryly.

"Oh I shall," Professor Umbridge smiled.

"I suppose this is relevant?"

"Oh yes. Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' — er — backgrounds..."

"Of course they cared about their backgrounds now," Mel scoffed, still talking in a whisper. "They care about their hobbies, don't they? If they have a knack for fighting governments during the weekends? What a bunch of–"

"Mel, your potion," Neville warned her, noticing the way it was starting to show a green smoke.

"Woops!" She quickly did some arrangements, and the potion was back to normal. "Thanks, Neville."

"I reckon I did well enough in today's lesson!" Neville said proudly, beaming at her. "Thank you for your help..."

"It was a pleasure," She smiled back.

"Sorry for Harry though... you saw how Snape vanished his potion again?"

"Yeah," Mel frowned. "What a twat, but Harry should really try harder..."

"It's weird to hear you talk about him like that," Neville said innocently. "You usually are the first to defend him..."

"I'm the first to defend any of you," She corrected. "I'm not going to support him blindly– I mean, you did well today and you were having a bad morning too, right?"

Neville's smile faded.

"Reckon so, yeah..."

"Hey, I know it's not my place but..." She pondered how to say it without scaring him away. "Whatever got you all worked up, well, I'm always here if you need to talk. You're my friend as much as Harry or Ron..."

When they reached the marble staircase Mel remembered she had a meeting to attend, so she said goodbye to Neville and told him she would meet him in Divination. She ran to the very back of the library and found Erick standing in the corner, peering over a shelf towards the hall. Mel tiptoed until she was right behind him and scared him.

Erick jumped, hitting the side of his face on the edge of the bookshelf. The boy cursed rather loudly and stepped back, a hand rubbing his cheek.

"What is your problem?!"

"Lower your voice!" Mel said in horror. "I'm so sorry! Let me see your face–"

"Don't–"

"C'mon, I can help!"

Mel pulled his hand away and tilted his face towards the light. His cheek was slightly red, but it was uninjured.

"I don't think it'll bruise..." She said, getting closer to him. "What in the name of Godric were you doing? Who are you stalking?"

"I'm not stalking anyone," He complained. "I was... Lately I've been– Move away, will you? You're making me nervous..."

He pushed her aside gently and moved towards the nearest table.

"Let's make this quick," He told her, sitting down. "I want to eat something before Potions, Merlin knows I need it..."

Mel quickly told him about Hedwig and how they were obviously being watched after their meeting in Hogsmeade, Erick listened so intently that he even forgot about making his usual sarcastic remarks, once she ended, he half-smiled.

"You already found a solution, didn't you?"

Mel put her pocket watch on the table and looked at him with resolution.

"We want to keep going," She pointed to the little object on the table. "And we need something like this to spread the news safely and with the certainty that only those who belong in the group are the ones getting it."

"You clever girl..." Erick supported both arms on the table and stared at the watch, his brain already going a thousand miles per hour. "What do you need?"

"Well, for starters, I need to know the charm."

"It'll be easy, you're talented enough– Protean charm, don't forget it."

"We need something like this," She lifted the watch and stared at it. "But people carrying similar watches around the school would be too suspicions... and they're not exactly cheap..."

"You don't need to buy several of the same," Erick replied. "Just reproduce one."

"What?" Mel blinked.

Erick rolled his eyes.

"A doubling charm, you goose. Learn how to do it and you'll get copies of anything in the blink of an eye."

"Oh! Okay..." She smiled.

"Tell Hermione about it," Erick peered over her shoulder anxiously. "I would help you, but we can't take risks and I rather not know a lot about your plans in case... you know..."

"Yes," Mel nodded. "Thank you."

"No problem," He nodded, the concern coming back to his features.

"It's everything okay?"

"What? Why?" He blinked, stepping away from the table. "I'm fine, just tired... haven't slept well."

"Why?"

"Doesn't matter..."

"Erick..." She insisted, grabbing his arm and forcing him to stay in place.

He looked everywhere but her, until finally, Erick let out a strange noise that sounded like half a growl and he rubbed his eyes furiously before pushing her hand away and starting to speak.

"My Grandad..."

Mel felt something heavy on her chest and nodded in understanding.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. If it helps... I'm right here."

He nodded, eyes fixed on the ground.

"I know."

Mel continued with her day, spending most of it with Neville to make sure Malfoy wouldn't take advantage of him if he were to find him alone.

Back in the common room, she saw no reason not to waste her night away with the twins, who were currently showing to a curious crowd their newest products. Her mind had started to drift to what she'd said to Ginny a few hours earlier, but was soon interrupted when she witnessed Fred vomiting into a bucket and forcing a purple candy down his throat.

She was still having fun though, collecting the money and giving the Skiving Snackbox to their new owners. Lee Jordan and George Weasley would take turns with Fred so he wouldn't get all weak from the constant vomiting. She was highly thankful for the vanishing spell, otherwise, that bucket would be beyond disgusting.

Hermione would constantly glare at her and scoff, but Mel smiled innocently through it all. It wasn't her fault what the twins were doing, and they were technically doing nothing against the rules. Her housemates needed this kind of entertainment considering the shitty year they were all having.

"Here's your part, lady," Fred held out a small bunch of sickles for her to take. The crowd had dispersed a while ago, and they've been counting their money before going to bed.

Mel frowned and pushed it back.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were the beautiful assistant back there!" Fred said. "Half of our sells occurred just because you were the one taking the money– Am I wrong, George?"

"Those third-years have it bad for you, Lady," George smirked.

"You've become quite popular overnight," Lee raised a brow. "Don't you remember what the older Gryffindors used to say?"

"Oh yes," Mel laughed. "I was the little feral thing, wasn't I? They would compare me to peeves and all... can't say I miss it."

"You were never like Peeves, though," Fred smiled. "Peeves is quieter."

"Sod off!" She exclaimed over the boys' laughter. "I've changed, haven't I? Didn't really think about it until now..."

"Well, you don't yell at strangers in the halls anymore..."

"And you don't want to fight everyone either..."

"I did all that for stupid reasons," Mel glanced towards Harry. "Really stupid reasons, if you ask me..."

The boys shared a knowing look. Everyone knew at this point that asking her about what had happened between Harry and her was useless, neither of them would say a thing.

"Time for bed, I s'pose," George yawned, getting up from his chair.

"You're sure you don't want this?" Fred raised a brow, showing her the money one last time.

"I don't need it, Fred."

"No need to brag about it," Lee scoffed, taking the money. "It's mine, then."

"Hey!" Fred slapped the back of his head. "Give it back! We're gonna split it!"

They continued their bickering as they disappeared behind the door to the boys' dormitory. Mel had a lazy smile on her face than soon worn out as she realized she'd been left alone in the room with Hermione, Ron and Harry. She got up slowly and made her way towards them.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @sarcasticallywitty15 @21bruhs

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

14 notes · View notes

ibijau · 4 years

Note

Oh yikes, that situation wtih Jin Zixun is a mess. I gotta ask - in the answers to asks you always mention that the turning point for lxc is seeing nhs dripping wet and get his first ever boner. Does he also realise that nhs is a person with a personality in a similar manner, like a punch, or does it come naturally?

lxc is too emotionally constipated when it comes to nhs for it to comes easily, but...

It takes a multitude of drops to create an ocean, but they're still drops, one after the other.

The first drop is a “no” said with a calm voice belied by clenched fists.

“My uncle orders it,” Lan Xichen insists, shocked by this rejection of his authority. “He suggested it to your brother who agreed. We are to meet every week and...”

“No,” Nie Huaisang repeats, with more assurance. “I won't do it. Da-ge did not tell me to. Your uncle did not tell me to. And I'm not listening to you.”

“You think I'd lie?”

Nie Huaisang hesitates, his fists nearly trembling from how hard he clenches them, and smirks.

“I think I don't care what you have to say,” he announces. “I think if your uncle has sometimes to tell me, he can say it himself. Until then, I'm not spending more time with you than I have to.”

Taken a back and feeling anger rise in him, Lan Xichen doesn't stop Nie Huaisang when the other boy simply leaves. It takes him a few minutes to calm down enough that he can go seek out his uncle to tell him what happened, but even after Lan Qiren has promised to handle this, something still stings.

Laughter rings from inside the cabin, just as Lan Xichen was about to knock on the door. It is loud and unashamed and a number of things that aren't quite allowed in the Cloud Recesses. There's several voices, but one catches Lan Xichen's attention more than the rest.

He's never heard Nie Huaisang's laugh before.

When the door opens, Nie Huaisang still has a grin on, although it drops when he sees Lan Xichen and turns into a grimace.

“Oh, right, it's today,” he sighs, before turning to the company he has. “Wei-xiong, Jiang-xiong, sorry but I actually have to go. Can we continue later? I'll come to your cabin as soon as I'm done with this.”

Lan Xichen stares at the two boys inside. It's a surprise that Nie Huaisang has managed to make friends already, when last year he awkwardly remained on his own except when Jin Zixun felt like bullying him. It's even more surprising that the friends he made are Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin, who could have anyone they like as playmates. As they leave, the two boys bow to Lan Xichen and tease Nie Huaisang who takes it well and jokes back.

“I'm glad you're making friends,” Lan Xichen states as they walk back to his house together. “Or did you know them before they came here?”

Nie Huaisang hesitates, then shrugs.

“Your uncle says that we have to spend an incense stick's time together every week,” he says. “I'll talk to you when it's burning. Not before, not after.”

Lan Xichen flushes in anger, pinches his lips, and says nothing. It's not as if he wants to talk either, of course, but to be so rude about it was unnecessary.

Lan Xichen has to oversee a class after his uncle was called elsewhere at the last minutes. The students are told to work in small groups and practice etiquette quietly. Lan Xichen's hopes for studying his own lessons are quickly destroyed when Jin Zixuan says something that apparently annoys Wei Wuxian. It is not an uncommon occurrence, although so far they've luckily never come to blow yet.

They don't this time either.

Seeing them this upset, Nie Huaisang starts poking fun at them, in particular at Wei Wuxian who he starts mirroring with such exaggeration that the other boy soon forgets he was angry and starts laughing along. Jin Zixuan, clumsy but not stupid, simply rejoins his group and avoids anyone who isn't a Jin for the rest of the class.

“I'm told you play Go?” Lan Xichen asks during one of their weekly meetings.

Nie Huaisang looks at the incense stick burning nearby and shrugs.

“A little. Not good enough for Lan gongzi, I'm sure.”

“Would you like to try anyway?”

Again, Nie Huaisang glances at the incense, already half consumed.

“There's not enough time.”

Normally, Lan Xichen would get upset that his efforts at friendliness are being rejected again, and he would drop the matter. But with Nie Huaisang so unwilling to chat, those meetings are really more boring than they need to be, and he is actually curious about his fiancé's skill at the game. He's heard that Nie Huaisang can play on equal footing with Jiang Wanyin, whom Lan Xichen had a chance to play against, once, and whose skill surprised him.

“We can start the game now and continue next week. It would be more fun than just drinking tea and waiting for time to pass.”

That argument wins over Nie Huaisang, and they begin playing. Lan Xichen starts confident, but soon realises that what he's heard isn't just idle gossip. Nie Huaisang is a skilled player, forcing him to fight hard for victory.

In the end Lan Xichen loses, but he's not even upset about it. It has been a while since he's played such a thrilling game. And while they don't say it, he knows they're both shocked that they kept playing long after the incense burned down, too taken by the board to pay attention to anything else.

“Let's play again sometimes,” Lan Xichen suggests.

Nie Huaisang seems surprised by his eagerness, or perhaps by the fact that Lan Xichen takes his loss so well. Either way he smiles and nods almost hesitantly. For a brief moment, he looks more like the boy he was last year, shy and uncertain, but he doesn't linger around long enough for Lan Xichen to question it.

“Fighting is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Xichen scolds. “If there was a problem, you should have found a senior and asked them to handle the situation.”

Jiang Wanyin grabs his brother's wrist, probably his way to tell him to stay silent. Wei Wuxian pinches his lips but obeys, probably unwilling to add to the punishment he's already receiving with Lan Wangji.

No one is there to control Nie Huaisang though.

“And what would the senior have done?” he asks, glaring at Lan Xichen. “Listened to the bullies' lies before blaming that boy for making people want to tease him? There was nobody around, Lan gongzi, someone had to do something, and it had to be now.”

“Surely there had to be options other than violence,” Lan Xichen retorts.

“We tried talking first,” Jiang Wanyin intervenes. “But they were unwilling to let that boy go and he was crying. I hope Lan gongzi can see why we had to do something.”

“And I hope we won't be the only ones punished,” Nie Huaisang adds. “We can testify that they were taunting him. I think that's against quite a few rules, no?”

“The child says they were just playing,” Lan Xichen retorts, because two can play that game.

“Of course he'd say that. That's why we'll bear witness to what really happened, if it's needed. Gusu Lan believes in rules above all else, but Qinghe Nie will always stand for what's just.”

Lan Xichen glares at Nie Huaisang. It's not his fault if Jin Zixun was never punished for his abuse of others, he wants to say. It's not his fault if Nie Huaisang, like the boy today, was too terrified to stand up and blame his attackers. It's not his fault there were no other witnesses that time, no one but Lan Xichen himself who could so easily have been accused of being biased in favour of his fiancé.

“They will face proper punishment,” he promises. “And so will you. You will copy the rules of Gusu Lan in their entirety, and apologise before Grandmaster Lan for disrupting the peace.”

It's a light enough punishment as all three of them should know, especially after how many times Wei Wuxian has gotten in trouble already, but they still groan and complain. Nie Huaisang bemoans the pain he's sure to fill in his wrist he's sure to feel, until Wei Wuxian starts teasing him about something and they nearly get into a playful argument. Jiang Wanyin wisely stands to the side, rolling his eyes and trying not to smile.

Lan Xichen has to order them to calm down, but they still exchange amused glances after.

A few times, Lan Xichen catches glimpses of Nie Huaisang spending time with a young Lan boy. Usually they are just walking together and chatting, but once or twice, if the weather allows, they play Go in front of the Qinghe Nie cabin.

After been shown such favour by an older boy from a prestigious clan, that boy never gets bullied again. He shows his gratefulness by sometimes letting other children tag along with him now, other boys who startle too easily at the sight of older teenagers. Sometimes, he takes them to play with Nie Huaisang, who in returns brings along Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

When he hears about that, Lan Xichen feels something gnawing at his heart. It's an almost painful sensation, but it might not be a bad one.

Lan Xichen wakes up with a slight headache, and memories of a hand in his, of gentle words, of being kindly led to safety.

It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself as he lays in bed. They were in a viper's nest, they had already agreed to stand together and give the image of a united front so the Wens would know the alliance between Qinghe Nie and Gusu Lan is a strong one.

And still, that hand in his own, so warm.

There could have been other ways for Nie Huaisang to take him back to his uncle after he was made to drink, but he took his hand, a hand Lan Xichen now stares at, trying to call back the ghost of that touch.

It doesn't mean anything that Nie Huaisang took his hand, Lan Xichen knows that. It must just have been the most convenient option, and one that would further the impression of good feelings between them to the prying eyes of their enemies.

It doesn't mean anything.

Lan Xichen wants it to have meant something.

He wants everything that happened yesterday at Wen Chao's wedding to have meant something. He wants for Nie Huaisang to really smile at him this easily, to chat with him like they get along, to really be able to trust him, to take his hand not only out of necessity but because it is pleasant to both of them.

Lan Xichen sighs and closes his eyes again.

It had been inconvenient to realise that Nie Huaisang was, for lack of a better word, attractive, but this... this is much worse.

Lan Xichen sighs again, and curses himself for feeling this too late, when he has already ruined everything.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #worst engagement au #jau writes #madwriter223

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mst3kproject · 3 years

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Voodoo Island

Leonard Maltin thought this movie was boring, which is, honestly, kind of terrifying. Its ostensible star is Boris Karloff, who somehow managed to avoid ever being on MST3K, but it was produced by Howard Koch, the director of Untamed Youth, and was written by Richard Laundau, who did the same for Lost Continent (uhoh). It’s also got Jean Engstrom from The Space Children, and if the voice of the radio operator sounds familiar that’s because it’s 🎶 Adam Weeeeeest.

A hotel company wants to build a resort on a tropical island, but the scouting party they sent never came back – except for one guy, Mitchell, who has been reduced to a catatonic state by whatever it was he saw there. Worried, the hotelier sends renowned skeptic Mr. Knight to find out if it’s true that the island is under some kind of voodoo curse. After much wasting of the audience’s time, Knight’s party reaches the island and finds it infested with man-eating plants, coconut crabs, and unfriendly natives. I wish I could tell you more of the plot, but that’s basically all there is.

Voodoo Island is unusual as bad movies go, in that you don’t actually realize how bad it is until it’s over. Things that seem to be the plot move merrily along, always feeling like it’s building up to something cool… and then at the last moment it just deflates like a gas station tube man with his fan turned off. In hindsight, the audience realizes that very little of what they just saw had anything to do with what was supposedly going on. In many ways, you never do find out what was going on at all!

The middle section of this movie is not quite as obviously padded as Lost Continent with its endless rock climbing, but almost all of it is, retrospectively, pointless. On the first leg of their journey to the island, the party’s plane is caught in a storm and forced to make an emergency landing – only to find that the weather has mysteriously cleared right up! After repairing their radio they set off again, and nothing much comes of the incident. They stop on another island where they have trouble hiring a boat, and where somebody puts a curse of some sort on them. Nothing comes of this. Later still, their boat stalls out and refuses to start again, even after they’ve cleared a blocked fuel line. This has no real consequences, because the tide carries them in anyway, and the movie never deals with what happens when they try to leave the island again.

Along for the ride is Mitchell, the guy who was so terrified by what he saw on the island that he hasn’t moved or spoken since. He has a couple of medical emergencies that resolve themselves without long-term consequences, and then simply drops dead before they ever reach the island. They don’t learn anything from him or his condition. A similar fate later befalls another character, Finch, but this time the movie ends before he has a chance to either die or snap out of it. Mitchell is only in this movie to make it longer, and possibly so it could claim it had a zombie.

With the movie already half-over, we finally reach this mysterious island. The group are greeted by a trail of clues that make Knight thing somebody is trying to lead them somewhere… perhaps to answers, perhaps to a trap. Eventually they’re captured by the natives, but there’s no reason they had to be in a particular place for this to happen – the natives have been following them the whole time and could have intervened at any point. None of this stuff reads as padding because it feels like it’s going to lead to something. Again, it’s only when the credits unexpectedly start to roll that you realize almost the whole movie was irrelevant.

Padding is not Voodoo Island’s only problem – the dialogue is awkward at best. Most of it is on a Revenge of the Sith level, where characters just say exactly what they’re thinking in a way that might have sounded poetic on paper but just doesn’t work out loud. The boat captain, Gunn, gets a Gunslinger moment in which he narrates his traumatic backstory in a single talking head shot. Knight is forever going on about Rational Explanations and then suddenly declares his change of heart when confronted with a voodoo doll. There’s no meat to this arc at all, no sense of Knight questioning his worldview or coming to terms with anything – he just says I do believe! like he’s in a Santa Claus movie and then it’s over.

The worst of both the dialogue and the supposed character arcs occur in the love story. There are girls in this movie, so of course there has to be a love story, and it’s terrible. The lady half of this one is Knight’s assistant Miss Adams, who is very poised and professional and doesn’t smoke or drink, and spends the first half of the movie being tutted at by just about everybody. The other woman in the group, Claire, tells her she could just be so pretty if she’d only change the way she did her hair. Gunn calls her a ‘machine’ and asks if she even knows how to be a woman. This raises some hackles in the modern viewer, who wants to see Adams appreciated for what she is rather than what she has the potential to be if she changes everything about herself.

But Voodoo Island was made in the fifties, when changing yourself to please a man was what women aspired to! Miss Adams therefore swears off being a nerd and kisses Gunn, whose main personality trait is being a stunning asshole. He’s drunk and bitter, and earlier in the movie he tried to hit on Claire, who had to tell him to fuck off about four times before he got the idea. Later he insults and threatens Adams because her intelligence makes him feel like less of a man. Apparently one kiss from her completely undoes his PTSD and he’s a better person now.

These two getting together also totally dismisses the healthy and supportive friendship Adams has with Knight, who is not only her boss but has some fatherly affection for her. He praises her work ethic and tells her that she shouldn’t listen to people who think she’s boring. I guess we’re supposed to think it’s good that she quits working for him so she can run off with a drunk who’s threatened to slap her, because Gunn will make her life more exciting.

At the supposed climax, the natives (an assortment of ethnic-looking extras who never speak) take the group prisoner, and they are brought before the chief (a white guy in dark makeup), who tells them why outsiders aren’t allowed on the island. The prisoners are taken to a hut where they are tied up. One of them is possibly murdered by voodoo, and then the chief… just lets the rest of them leave. No conditions specified, although it’s implied that the islanders have more voodoo dolls and plenty of pins. We don’t even find out if they actually made it back. To get to their boat, the party will have to pass back through the carnivorous jungle without a guide, and once they reach the beach, they’ll have to fix their engine. It really feels like there ought to have been more of a climax, never mind a denouement. As the credits begin, I was just going, “that’s it?”

The actors are mostly mediocre. Boris Karloff tries really hard to rise above the material but never gets there, which is understandable when his lines are things like, “no, you fool, they’ll slaughter us to bits!”. All this badness really is a terrible shame, too, because Voodoo Island’s setpiece monsters, the man-eating plants, are actually incredibly cool. They never look real, but they’re much more creative than the standard giant Venus’ flytrap. There’s a thing that wraps long bean-like leaves around a swimmer and drowns her, another than catches its victims with a sticky bulbous stem, and yet a third that folds ferny fronds around prey and digests it! A movie that made proper use of these monsters would be a great time. I hope the prop people went on to the better things they deserved.

(At the other end of the effects scale are the coconut crabs I mentioned. These are not actual coconut crabs, but dead specimens of some other, much more gracile species. This, too, is unfortunate, because coconut crabs are living crustacean nightmares capable of killing and eating seagulls. One theory about Amelia Earhart’s ultimate fate is that she was devoured by coconut crabs.)

As for Voodoo Island having anything to say… it has some kind of muddled point about not dismissing the supernatural out of hand, but its ‘magic’ is pretty lame, and Knight’s arc is handled so badly that it passes by without making much of an impression. The story does seem to have another possible theme, though. As usual I can’t tell if this is intentional or not, but Voodoo Island seems to have something to say about concepts of ownership.

The hotelier has taken an interest in the island because he did an inventory of his properties and discovered he owned it. How he came to do so, we have no idea… it must have been sold to him by somebody else who’d likewise never been there, since the tribal chief tells us that Mitchell and his companions were the first white men to ever go there. What made that person think they owned it? Does the concept of ownership even mean anything when you don’t know that you own something? Does owning something entitle you to destroy it?

The natives own the island in the much less abstract sense that they live there. The chief tells the party that his people went to this island on purpose, because they thought its nasty flora would keep white people from following them there. They want no part of modern civilization, and seem completely unaware that somebody outside their community is claiming he owns this land. Whether the idea of ‘owning’ land is even a meaningful one to them, we can’t tell. When the Lenape allowed the Dutch to live on Manhattan Island, they probably had no idea the settlers would consider the land exclusively theirs.

These are some things that still need thinking about in the twenty-first century, and if you’re going to watch Voodoo Island do it for that and for the fun monsters. Even then, you’re likely to be disappointed.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #voodoo island #tw: abuse #humanitarian vegetables #50s

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catboysimulator · 3 years

Text

Story Four - The Matron’s Honor

Moons have gone by ever since Azhi'li has left Ul'dah; has left his old life behind. It is now the autumnal season, yet there is not much of a change in the desert, just some nippier nights... but there sure has been a change within the Sankres.

Ever since Azhi'li's arrival, the leaders as well as the elders have already been in the talks about a coming of age rite. There are children on the cusp of being ready for the rite; the Matron's Honor, and have been in preparation for it all year. The elders and handlers were prepared for the children they knew of, but certainly didn't expect one of them to be returning after twenty-four summers.

Azhi'li had no idea as to what was being spoken about amongst the three groups, until one evening when he was approached by G'sena.

"Mijo, I know you haven't been here for very long, but... Your cousin, uncle, the elders, handlers, and I have been talking to each other about a coming of age rite ceremony for you."

Hearing his uncle, Azhi'li blinked owlishly before lifting his head from his bowl with his cheeks stuffed with caldo.

"-- hmpf?"

"You do not have to do it if you do not wish! But, we were just thinking...if you would like to do it, you have the option."

Swallowing down his caldo, he continues to stare at Sena silently before looking down at his bowl.

"... Really? Do-- y'all want me to?"

"Only if you do, mijo. We would never force you, but if you wish to do it, we would be thrilled."

Contemplating, the red Seeker rubs his thumbs along the rim of the ceramic bowl, before giving small nods and a smile, looking back up at his uncle.

"... Yeah. I think I would like to do that, tio."

With a brilliant grin, Sena would laugh and cheer happily, moving over to Azhi'li and ruffling his hair with a hug. "Andale, mijo, that's what I love to hear! We will prepare everything for you as well, then."

"When is it going t'be?"

"Within three sennights."

"O-oh. Uh. What do I have t'do?"

"You don't have to do anything until it gets closer to that time. Four days before the rite, you will be taken to the fledgelings where you will spend three days and nights in their nest, preening their feathers and familiarizing yourself with them. This will give them the chance to also learn about you. On the fourth day, you will climb your way up to Azeyma's Watch where you will meet Rahja, the matron. We will inform you on what needs to be done when that time comes, but for now, relax and wait for the day. Prepare yourself mentally, if you'd like, but I am confident you will do well, sobrino," he encourages with a smile, petting Azhi'li's head.

"And, when that time comes and all has gone well...you will come back down, and be able to fully take on your birth name-- if you wish to. We call you that now, or at least I do, but if you are willing to take on the name, then everyone will happily call you Dhezi. It is your choice," he mentions, though his expression was almost-- pleading?

Azhi'li blinks a bit before his ears lower, giving his uncle a gentle half-smile. "I'll think ‘bout it, tio."

At that, Sena takes in a breath but continues to smile, nodding and pressing his forehead to his nephew’s. "Alright, sobrino. Whatever you decide, we will respect your decision. Now, I shall leave you to your devices, I have to leave for a few suns and visit the surrounding tribes."

"Okay, tio. I'll see you later, aye?"

"Of course."

He presses a kiss to the crown of his nephew's head before patting his shoulder, slinging a bag over his shoulder and passing through the tapestry of their home.

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

As the suns passed, Azhi'li had come to learn more and more about the Matron's Honor. It is when the matron griffin fully recognizes someone into the tribe for the rest of their life. It is usually done for children, yet also those who have later joined the tribe as refugees. Even if someone were to leave the tribe after their rite, they would still be able to call the Sankres their home and return whenever they wish.

Yet, apparently, the matron didn't always recognize someone into the tribe. Whether it is because the person has hidden intentions, or they are simply not ready. This does not mean the end-all of everything, but that the person needs more time to figure things out for themselves, or have help from the Sankres.

This made Azhi'li quite nervous; the possibility of not being recognized. He understands that it's not a permanent thing and that he might need time, but... He also understands the history of his father. Of what his sire did and the damage he has done to the tribe, before Sena took care of him and took over leadership.

What if his sire's reputation follows him, and the matron sees something in him that he is not aware of? To an outsider, it may seem absolutely ridiculous for a griffin to be the judge of one's worth, yet it is something that the Sankres have relied on, and they have not been led astray. Even Nhogu was not immediately acknowledged by the matron at that time, for she saw something. Yet, he was then recognized after a few more attempts.

Azhi'li knows he has no underlying motives! He never came to the tribe with any, but he's scared anyway! In hindsight, it's such a silly thing, and he knows... yet he was still filled with paranoia nonetheless.

With each passing day that came closer to the rite, his paranoia was more and more apparent. Tani saw this and huffed, yoinking her cousin by his shoulders and rattling him. "Stop it. You are psychin' yerself out fer no reason, an' I know y'know that," he states, firmly.

"But, what if--?"

"Ah-ah-ah! Sst. Zip it. Another word outta ya 'bout this whole thing an' I'll knock ya around, got it?"

Azhi'li clamped his mouth shut at that, sighing heavily with a frown.

Tani then squeezed his shoulders gently, affectionately; assuringly. "Primo... Do not make this situation bigger than it actually is. So what if she does not accept ya right away? You will have other chances. Plus, there is another thing y'need ta remember," they say, pressing a finger against his chest above his heart, "You are not Nhogu. You are Azhi'li Ditreinu, 'nd our G'dhezi, no matter what. Now, go on 'nd meet with th'handlers. They'll get ya all situated fer th'next three nights."

Despite Tani being brusque and a little rough around the edges, they sure do know how to help Azhi'li, and he cannot be more grateful for it. His frown would give way to a gentle smile towards the taller Seeker, nodding in response. "Alright-- Thanks, Tani."

She returns the smile, nodding and ruffling his hair. "Of course, primito. We'll see you again in a few days. Have fun!"

They shove his back, pushing him forward to send him off on his way.

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

At the handlers, Azhi'li is then introduced to the fledgelings; Rima, Tega, and Oto. They are still young, yet are still bigger than everyone in the tribe. From what Azhi'li remembers, griffins are only native to Dravania, with some species brought over to Gyr Abania as well. To think that there are some in the Sagolii boggles his mind, especially since they are so well-trained, playing with the handlers and preening their hair affectionately.

Yet, once Azhi'li arrived, the three seemed to stop in their antics and simply stared at the Seeker. Taking a few steps towards him, they circle him while sniffing curiously, chuffing as their tails give little flicks here and there. Once they'd satiated their curiosity, they moved away from him and instead paid attention to the handlers again, while Azhi'li got himself situated on a cot near the pen, simply staring.

As the suns passed, the handlers taught Azhi'li how to preen the fledgelings, feed them, play with them, and generally get used to them. The looser the Seeker got and more relaxed, the more the three griffins did, too. Towards the end of the third night, they've gotten so comfortable with him that they curl up their massive forms near Azhi'li's legs, falling asleep before the Seeker could even slip back to his cot. It was a bit surreal, yet it filled him with a certain determination and renowned confidence.

He went to bed feeling like he could take on the world.

At least, until he woke up. It was the fourth day, and that meant it was time to meet the Matron. Rahja.

In order to reach the Matron, the children are made to climb their way up to Azeyma's Watch on their own, without any outside assistance. One by one, they would climb the rocky mountains, and one by one they would come back down.

Once they hear the cry of the Matron announcing her arrival, the final passage begins. The youngest child goes first, and the oldest the last. Azhi'li waited for a few hours, his heart pounding in his chest and a clammy sensation overtaking the nape of his neck. Sena, Maryn, and Tani are overlooking the process, their ceremonial feathers worn upon their heads and tagua necklaces around their necks, watching as each miqo'te makes their way up and back down, as well as taking heed of the Matron's decisions.

Soon enough, it was Azhi'li's turn. Staring up the mountain, his round ears pin back against his head. Tani whistled out for his cousin, catching the Seeker's attention as he mouths, 'Go,' offering a gentle and toothy grin.

Taking in a deep breath, the younger Seeker would nod as he began his ascent, scaling the rocks as though it were second nature. It did not take him long to reach the top, rivulets of sweat running down his forehead and chest as Azeyma beats down on his form. His breath stalls in his chest the moment he sees Rahja, her eagle eyes piercing straight into him. He feels seen; exposed, and he hasn't even approached her yet.

Gulping down the lump in his throat, he moves closer to her before doing as he was instructed to a few suns ago, raising his dirt-covered, calloused paws towards the Sun, shutting his eyes and craning his neck to bask in Her warmth. He lowers himself onto his knees afterwards, bringing himself down further into a kowtow before Rahja, pressing his forehead against the stones for a few moments before lifting himself back up to gaze at the Matron.

Rahja continues to stare down at the young Seeker before her, approaching him slowly and lowering her head down to his. Azhi'li couldn't help the vague trembling along his body, his breathing shallow and light, his eyes wide and pupils blown out into saucers. His nervousness was not any bit of a secret, and he knew it. She knew it.

And yet, it was as though a small gleam of amusement danced in her eyes. She leaned her forehead down to his, pressing them together. He took in a quick breath, before shutting his eyes and releasing a trembling sigh with a small laugh, his relief pouring out like a broken dam. He gently took Rahja's face into his paws as their foreheads nestled together, the griffin's eyes briefly shutting before she eventually pulled away and stepped back enough to flap her wings and release a bellow towards the Sun.

Azhi'li stared at her in awe, expression full of wonder and delight from her magnificence. It took a few moments, but he then realized the gravity of the situation, a heavy weight upon his shoulders and heart-- yet, not a burdened one. No, it was a comfortable weight, like a heavy blanket on a cold night. He laughs happily, cheering and hooting as he stands back up onto his paw feet, his tears warm as they streak down his cheeks while he grinned as brilliantly as Azeyma Herself.

This-- this is everything and more to him.

Shifting over towards Azhi'li, Rahja lowers her head down to him once more before folding her legs beneath her, laying her wing down for the Seeker. He blinks and stares at her, stupefied, stammering out, "-- D--... Do ya want me t'get on?" Such a silly question, surely she wouldn't understand--,

And yet, she chuffs in response, craning her head towards her back. He still really couldn't believe it, but he carefully moved towards her, placing his soot-colored paws on her back gently, questioningly. She huffs once more, slipping her wing right under him and hoisting him right onto her back as he yelps in surprise. Once he held onto her feathers, she lifted herself off from Azeyma's Watch and flew him down below, back to his family.

Still stunned, Azhi'li blinked owlishly as he remained on her back even after she had laid on the ground, Tani cheering and calling for her cousin while reaching out for him to yoink him off Rahja's back, giving him a giant, crushing hug.

That surely did snap him out of his stupor, causing him to yelp and groan as he felt his air be squeezed out of him. "I TOLD you, primo! Don't ever doubt me again, ya hear?! If ya do, I'm kickin' yer ass inta next week!" she states, firmly.

"Aye-aye! Okay!" he whines, yet laughs breathlessly nonetheless. Tani places him down and ruffles the younger Seeker's smaller mane, grinning toothily and placing a giant smooch to his forehead. "Eso, primo. That's what I like ta hear."

Beside Tani came Sena and Maryn, gazing towards their nephew with warm smiles, the former beaming proudly. "You never had anything to worry about, Dhezi."

With a light huff, the young Seeker's wet face softened yet remained elated, nodding in response to his uncle's words.

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

CW: Mention of blades, bleeding, and scarification. No graphic details.

With the rite now complete, the new and official Sankres must go with the tradition of scarifying wings upon their backs.

It is quite a bit of a painful process, yet everyone in the Sankres have gone through it at one point or another. Some folks take it a bit harder than others, and must do it in increments, but Azhi'li was able to lay through it the entire time.

Carving wings into his back, they wrapped him up carefully with bandages, applying medical salve around the newly forming scars to avoid any infections. It hurt like hells, but it was done, and he couldn't be happier.

From now on, he will be known as G'dhezi.

#zizi's arc #story time #azhi #dhezi #sena #tani

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theres-no-protocol-for-this · 4 years

Text

Necessary Repairs

Part III. I don’t even know if you have to read any of the other parts. SecUnit should probably have slept through most of its own healing, but that’s not this machine’s luck.

Part I | Part II

At some indeterminate point later, I woke up.

I was receiving minimal sensory data, and none of it was sight-related. A diagnostic subroutine spun up and casually began sending me bursts of error messages I couldn't even begin to translate.

Oh, and the world was pitch black.

It took me more than five seconds to determine that the darkness was self-inflicted and open my eyes. Longer still for the random noise to resolve into sounds I could understand -- the hum of an air circulation system, at least two distinct voices, and an automated warning system. My connection to the feed stabilized, but the walls that normally guarded my mind against its onslaught were conspicuously absent.

Something else was shielding me, something big and surprisingly gentle.

Friend?

I could feel cold metal under my back and head, probably the medical suite platform. My internal temperature refused to rise, so I was shivering and couldn't stop. It felt like I was still leaking, and the pain ebbed and flowed with each passing moment.

“Would you like me to turn up the heat?” Transport asked.

Yes. Where the hell am I?

I felt a mild shock as the governor kicked in. It hadn't liked my tone, apparently, or the phrasing of my answer, and wasn't shy about letting me know. The standard code read, "you're outside of protocol and need to adjust your attitude."

Silently, I cursed the damn thing. I was getting used to life without it.

A moment later, Transport answered, "SecUnit, you're still in medical, and your performance rating, while stable, remains abysmally low."

The ship paused and sent me a couple of data packets that succinctly described all the things still wrong -- which was most of them. I should've probably remained in stasis, but the medical unit was calibrated for humans. So, it hadn't given me nearly enough sedative to knock out the organic parts of a construct for any appreciable amount of time.

I was awake, kind of.

"I'm waiting for your vital signs to improve," Transport added. "Until then, would you like to watch an episode of that one show you liked?"

Yes, please.

The ship's calm tone reassured me, even though everything else looked like shit. My diagnostics were coming back with nonsense, still. The governor couldn't find a SecSystem to connect with. The Traveler didn't have or need one of those; it had a skeleton HubSystem instead managed security, life support, and logistics. My inflexible governor couldn't figure out how to interface with it.

Surprise, surprise...

It fell back on some preprogrammed garbage, complete with a minimal set of actions and responses. "Yes, please" and "No, thank you" was probably the best I could manage at the moment without incurring its wrath. I'd try poking at it later when my performance no longer looked quite so dramatically sad.

Captain Owens pulled up a chair and sat down where she could see me. Transport shared the view from one of its cameras, so now I could see her, too. It also queued up an episode of a long-running serial and waited for the captain before it started playing. I wanted to ask about the hostiles but couldn't -- thanks governor -- and Transport didn't seem inclined to enlighten me.

I suppose it was only fair; it was doing its best to keep me calm.

MedSystem sorted out the sleeping issue in the meantime and had injected more sedatives into my resupply channel, so sleep was happening shortly, whether I liked it or not. I could practically feel my diagnostics slowing down to a crawl since they relied on data from my organic parts, which were affected by the drugs.

"Good afternoon, SecUnit. I'm glad to see you're awake." The captain nodded in my direction and then turned toward someone I couldn't see. "As I mentioned, thanks to SecUnit, we came out of the boarding attempt in one piece. I'm sorry to hear your ship wasn't as lucky."

A stranger in formal wear came into camera view as he approached Owens. I figured he was the owner of that second voice I hadn't been able to identify earlier. The logo on his tunic looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. Parts of my memory felt like tangled network cables.

"Indeed, but this is still better than nothing. I don't suppose you've already contacted your bonding company?"

The captain's face scrunched up in confusion. "We're insured outside of the Corporation Rim," she explained. "I've sent a message, but I'm here pretty much on my own."

Outside of the Rim, everything appeared to work in ways that were incompatible with corporation control. A lot of the propaganda around freehold planets implied they were a complete shitshow. Except, clearly, the Traveler was doing just fine.

I had a sudden burst of "bad feeling" in my organic neural tissue. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right with me. I thought it might be unwise for the captain to tell him anything about herself or her ship.

"No, thank you." It sounded like my voice, but I didn't remember speaking. Hi buffer, I thought I'd never see you again.

The newcomer gave me a puzzled glance. "So, where'd you get your unit then?"

Owens shrugged and schooled her expression. I'd seen that face before when she'd spoken to her daughter before our first jump. "I rented it from a friend, as a security consultant. It's doing a great job."

I was?

I mean, the human was alive, and the Traveler had an intact hull, so I guess things weren't terrible. I could practically hear the Transport laughing on a private channel. If I could roll my eyes, I probably would have, but the governor frowned on that sort of thing, and my eyes had closed minutes ago.

"I see. Well, if you wouldn't mind giving us a hand with repairs, we can both be on our way." The man watched the captain like a hawk. "I would also recommend getting your unit checked out at a licensed repair station when you get a chance. With this level of damage, there's no telling what other problems are hiding under the surface."

As far as statements go, it was polite enough, but I didn't like it. It sounded to me like a threat.

Performance rating dropping. Initiating emergency shutdown.

I really would prefer you didn't.

***

Memory fragment:

The mining installation doesn't inspire confidence. There are eight of us and two combat models. Ten security units should be enough to keep a workforce of 153 miners and a dozen more supervisors in line. Everything looks worn and rundown, including the humans.

Protocol dictates that we take shifts. A human has created a schedule to which we adhere. The two combat units are mixed in with the rest of us.

It's my patrol shift. I walk through one of the mining shafts and stop at the far end. I can hear a supervisor arguing with two of her employees—something about the rocks they've uncovered. I turn around, ready to head back to the primary installation, when one of the combat units walks up to the three humans.

It has been summoned by the supervisor.

The supervisor tells it to fire on the workers. It does, without question. Bodies crumple to the floor. Then, the supervisor notices me.

***

Transport popped into my feed. "Wake up, SecUnit. How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot."

The words were out before I could consider the consequences, and I braced for an electric shock -- or worse. Nothing happened. Performance reliability was at 87% and rising steadily. My diagnostics routines had run several times, and the results looked promising. I was also no longer leaking, and most of my organic parts had grown back.

I had two arms again. That was nice.

Transport shared a smiling sigil. Reason unknown. "You did get shot, silly. MedSystem patched you up pretty well. If you're up to it, my captain and I could use your help." It paused and added, "Captain suggested that you might want payment in exchange for services rendered. That's how it works in CR, right?"

I had my doubts about anything actually working in the Corporation Rim. Still, arguing with a clearly sentient ship about theoretical economics didn't sound appealing. I'd rather get shocked again.

"OK," I said aloud and sat up. "Priority question: who was here earlier?"

"Dr. Alexander Soren is the current captain of an ArialHydra exploration vessel. They are stranded in this sector after a pirate attack. Captain Owens speculates that it may be the same group of pirates. We were lucky to have you on board."

Lucky. Right.

I shoved off the platform and crumpled to the floor in a pile of arms and legs. Hi there, limbs. A few minutes later, I managed to get up and stumble around under my own power. I admit to sitting on the floor and trying out my new arm. It didn't have a cannon -- MedSystem didn't have the required parts -- but it was fully functional, otherwise.

"I've seen Dr. Soren before." I couldn't remember where. That bothered me.

"Perhaps you were deployed on one of his survey missions?"

"I don't know."

One of the ship's drones floated into the room, carrying spare clothing, which it dropped directly on my head. I grabbed at the falling fabric and started getting dressed. It was the Traveler's standard-issue uniform, beige and blue and generally not hideous. I missed the protective qualities of armor, but it would've been weird to wander through the ship's pristine, carpeted halls with it on.

Captain Owens walked into the medical room and waved at me and the drone. "I see you're both here and scheming."

"We're not scheming, and technically, I'm everywhere," Transport informed us.

"I don't think you should trust Dr. Soren," I blurted out.

Owens narrowed her eyes. "Do you know anything you'd care to share?"

I shook my head. Constructs don't get gut feelings -- we don't even have a gut to have them with -- and my memories of any encounters with the doctor had been removed. Memory wipes aren't typical, but occasionally, a bonding company or a manufacturer/repair company decides they're necessary. I've had at least one that I know about. I also had no idea how to explain that my organic neurons probably remembered things the rest of me didn't.

"Well, in that case, has Trav told you what we need?" At my puzzled expression, the captain said, "We gave the other ship supplies, and they're almost ready to depart. And they're making a fuss about..." She sighed. "Something. I really don't care. They'll be coming back aboard in a few hours to discuss whatever it is. And I would feel much better if you were there. Just in case. And only if you're feeling up to it."

Protecting humans was literally the only thing I liked about my job. "OK."

"Great. Do you want a weapon?"

"Depends on how threatening you want me to look." Any weapon I wielded would be for show unless the human was in danger. And if she was, I had a miniature cannon hidden inside an arm.

The captain pondered this for a moment. Her face went through a range of expressions that Transport interpreted for me as "Captain Owens thinks the other ship's posturing is stupid and would like to be on her way, but it would be impolite to leave, so here we are." I agreed with the captain's assessment.

Finally, she said, "Let's try without any extra threats and see what happens. The quicker we get this over with, the better."

Transport suggested we spend the time between now and the upcoming meeting watching more of its favorite shows. I agreed.

#the murderbot diaries #SecUnit #let me sleep #into the unknown #fanfiction

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