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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

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νοσταλγία (Chapter 29)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.1k (I’m sorry)

Warnings: The usual

A/N: I know today was supposed to be a PoV update day, but I am struggling with those atm, so for now I’ll post every Saturday and Tuesday, and if I write and want to post an Ivar PoV or smth, I will do so out of schedule. I’m so sorry, but otherwise I’ll just stress myself out.

There’s a bracelet mentioned in this, I had this one in mind. Pretty, innit?

And just an fyi, (I haven’t done these in a while, damn): Falcons are symbols of Freyja, who has stories referring to how she cries tears of gold at the absence of her husband from her side. Bats are symbols of Persephone, and in my canon I’ve always portrayed her as a woman of dark skin and blind eyes. Oh, and snakes are symbols of Hades.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter

The air around you is strange, a mix of warm and cold that doesn’t quite manage to be lukewarm, each second the breeze changes from a welcoming moment in the sun to the biting winds of a coast. Even the sky looks wrong, somewhere between night and day, the sun shining brightly one moment only to turn cold and distant the next.

You can almost see the silhouette of a woman standing in the distance, and because you know you must, you walk to her.

She extends a hand, her smile vicious but her eyes warm.

For a moment, when you blink, the blind eyes disappear and pale eyes look back at you, crying tears that shine like gold. Her lips aren’t stained by the red tint of pomegranates and blood anymore, but she still smiles, a mother beckoning a child into her embrace.

It is not the face you have come to know, yet she’s still familiar, and their voices when they whisper your name sound like one.

You reach with trembling fingers, try to reach her, and for a moment you can almost feel her warmth, burning like the fire that was once all you could feel. But the moment your hand finds hers, the moment the tips of your fingers touch hers…the cackle of a falcon, the screech of a bat by your ear, and she is gone.

All you have left is the cold that seeps into your skin and the certainty they have heard you, and answered, each and every time you’ve prayed.

A murmur of your name brings your attention to the youngest son of Ragnar, forcing you to return your attention -your mind- to the here and now, to the city that starts to wake up, to the streets you are supposed to be walking.

You answer the question written in Ivar’s eyes with a smile.

“I’m fine,” You promise quietly, “I have been having trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

“Dreams?”

“Are you to trust dreams as visions?” You ask, a little life returning to your voice as you tilt your head to the side.

“You told me yourself that your Goddess’ form appears in your dreams.” Ivar argues.

It wasn’t just her.

You refuse to admit to the son of a Viking seeress that you have dreamt of Freyja. If by chance some of Aslaug’s gift remains with Ivar, you dread to hear him decipher the meaning behind the form you saw in your dreams. So, you keep that to yourself.

“But you do not believe in my Gods.” Is what you argue with instead.

He shrugs with his arm not on the crutch, “I believe in you.”

You stop in your tracks, stunned into silence. Your eyes are glued to Ivar’s back as he continues walking, and a tremulous smile starts lifting at your lips, aided by the fragile hope and foolish emotion blossoming in your chest.

Ivar turns to you when he sees you are not coming, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at your surprised and commoved expression.

“Don’t overreact. You were never wrong about your…dealings with your Gods before.”

Shaking off the surprise and the foolish hopes and feelings that have no place here, that cling to your mind like cobwebs, you skip the space between you, offering him a smile and a nod.

“I still appreciate the trust, Ivar.” You tease, skimming bold fingers over the back of his hand, a smile on your lips.

He regards you in silence for a few moments, not walking anymore, and you see in his gaze that he ponders with himself whether to say something that’s in his mind or not.

“Let’s go eat, woman.” He finally huffs, turning his attention to the path ahead. You bite down your disappointment at him swallowing whatever his words were to be, and walk at his side.

The thralls that greet you when you enter do so with a smile, although their eyes linger on your hair for a few moments, and move cautiously about as they set the food in front of you both and take their leave.

“You keep confusing them, you know.” Ivar starts casually, already focused on his food but still demanding that you sit at his side while you eat your bread and drink your herbal tea. You have no idea how these people manage to eat so much so early in the day.

“Me?”

Sucking his fingers clean, a gesture you shouldn’t be following with your eyes the way you are, Ivar lifts his gaze to focus on you.

“You refuse to let them braid your hair unless we make a deal, you reuse that old dress every chance you have.”

“I like my hair this way.” You quip, rather obstinately.

Ivar’s eyes go to the gentle twirls and the delicate updo holding the hair away from your face, studying the style for a few moments. Finally, he shrugs in response.

You have an inkling that’s the closest you will get to receiving a compliment, so you let yourself enjoy the victory as if it were one.

“You still get cold in that dress. You keep trembling when night falls, woman, it’s annoying.” He mumbles.

“It’s…mine.” You offer as explanation, smiling down at your infusion as you watch the herbs swirl and smell the familiar scent of red clover and chickweed.

When you lift your gaze from the swirling herbs in your cup, you catch his eyes on you, but he adverts his gaze to his food once again when he speaks, “You have dresses in our room. Those are yours.”

“They are not mine, they are clothes you had people bring to me.” You insist, fingers tracing the worn Byzantine thread with care.

“You can ask them to bring you the ones you like.”

“I don’t want to take it from them, they…deserve compensation.”

“Would it be better if you bought your own, then?” He offers, and even if excitement bubbles in your chest and into your lips in a small smile, you still refrain.

“I don’t have any gold.”

“I can give you all you need.” Ivar sentences, and although for a moment your mind lingers on the meaning you think he intended behind those words, you soon find yourself with a smile on your lips and only thoughts of the peplos and chlamys you had back in your home before it burned down.

It has been so long since you have had time -or coin- to make some dresses.

“I don’t want to be in your debt.” You insist, even if you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling.

Ivar regards you silently for a few moments, resting his elbows on the table between you and challenging your eyes with his, his expression asking you why you decide to be so difficult about everything. You offer a shrug in response, wondering if he sees the hypocrisy in complaining about you being difficult to deal with.

“Think of them as…gifts, then.”

“Alright.” You murmur, your gaze holding his for once not feeling like it’s a duel, but an encounter. When it is a genuine one, however rare they are, Ivar truly has a lovely smile, you realize.

When you are done with your meal and murmur your goodbyes as you prepare to head for the apothecary home, Ivar interrupts you, sly smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes that, were he to be any other man, would make you think he is flirting.

“I like red.”

You smile in response, bending down to press a kiss against his cheek. Ivar grumbles his way away from your affection, but the shine in his eyes, the faint color in his ears, give him away.

“Come with me to the market and I’ll see what I can do.” You offer, already knowing you are triumphant.

____

“Oh, this is fun.” You laugh, dangling your feet over the chariot’s end as you watch the ground quickly move underneath them.

Ivar grunts something in response to your enthusiasm, and you can almost tell he is exaggeratedly rolling his eyes as he faces the horse and guides it through Kattegat’s roads.

You say nothing, still beyond thankful he agreed to come to the market with you, aware as you are of how…uncomfortable he is walking around the people of Kattegat. If his words the day you witnessed first-hand what happens when his eyes get that blue tint to them are anything to go by, and you know they are; it is evident he hates the reminder, for himself and especially for others, that he is disabled.

You’ll never know what life was -is- like for him, you know you couldn’t fathom the pain, the anger, the resentment. But what you can do is try to understand him, understand his rage and his hunger.

I spent most of my life crawling around in the dirt, having to look up at everyone, like I was always kneeling in front of them.

And again, the part of you that is soft and foolish wants nothing other than to give him the happiness, the certainty, the safety, the love some may say he does not deserve but you would gladly give freely. And the part of you that is cruel and angry wants to watch him conquer, triumph, wants to stand by his side and see the world that pushed him to the ground burn.

A voice that sounds so alike his whispers there’s no reason why only one of those things has to be possible.

Still, in your mind lingers the image of a younger Ivar, heartbroken and hopeless at the seemly inability to fight, to earn his right to Valhalla; and it sends a pang of pain through your heart.

You know the stubborn King would only call it pity if he were to know, so you keep your tone light when you say,

“Thank you for this, Ivar,” He only answers with a huffed ‘hmphf’, so you add with a side smile, “I hope you know I will ask for chariot rides way more often.”

“For the right price, I’ll give you anything you want.” Ivar finally answers, and you catch a glimpse of his blue eyes turning to you for a moment.

“Dare I ask what the price might be?”

You could swear you hear him chuckle, and before long the market is in your sights, bubbling and colorful, and your attention is stolen by the wares and chanting vendors.

As you walk eyeing every little trinket and odd curiosity, you cannot keep the nostalgic smile from your lips.

“When I was a child my mother and I used to walk markets just like this one. She…she had this tradition, bought a new dress or a new piece of jewelry each time my father was to return from a campaign.” You recall with a watery laugh, fingers caressing the hanging necklaces of colorful beads you walk by.

“Campaigns? Like raids?”

“Yes, she…she used to say it was so he would have some surprise to return to, and my father would joke it was her way of keeping him in Eleusis, a threat that if he left us too frequently she would spend all our coin on pretty things,” You answer softly, running your hand over a piece of cold blue cloth, “Our temple looks over the sea, and I would sit with her on the steps, waiting for my father’s ship to return. He used to say our smiles guided the navy home,” You laugh. The smile in your mother’s lips as the sea reflected in her burdened and yet loving eyes is brought forth in your mind, and you cannot keep the next words from stumbling out of your lips, “I think…I think those are the only times I remember her being…happy.

She fought so much, through her noble title and the title of wife of a Strategus, through her worship and her strong voice. And yet she perished amongst flames, her death cheered by her own countrymen.

The cold hand of fear grips your heart, and after being once so close to ending your tale the same way, for a moment you refuse to expose yourself to that bitter and barren end, no matter the cost.

You shake off the dark thoughts, and focus on the market and the life bubbling within it.

“I don’t think I ever said this, but Kattegat truly is beautiful, Ivar.” You offer after a while in silence, the sharp focus of his blue eyes setting on you at your words.

“My mother turned Kattegat into a trading hub, allowed the town to prosper through commerce. When I became King, I…wanted to honor that.”

“Did Queen Aslaug teach you of trade?” You ask curiously, your lips still smiling as your eyes rake over the stands of so many different colors, of the offered spices and cloths and pets. It all is beautiful, loud, and with pieces of everywhere in the known world scattered throughout.

It feels like the Silk Roads. It feels like the first home you knew.

Ivar huffs, a combination of amusement and maybe regret, “No, she didn’t. I did not care for it, but my older brothers learned from watching her rule,” He explains, and remains silent for a few moments, for so long that you think he’s not going to speak again, until he takes a deep breath, “Hvitserk has been the one dealing with commerce and foreign trade, and he has done…good for Kattegat.” He says finally, the praise towards his brother gruff and carrying the bite of rancor, like admitting the other man’s success irks him.

“You should tell him that.” You murmur as casually as you are able to, pretending to eye a display of metal bracelets.

Your fingers trace over the snakes on one of the intricate metalworks, and you are reminded of the altar in the forest of Eleusis: Persephone, sitting in her throne with a scythe, symbol of Demeter, held in her hand to demonstrate her pledge to her mother, and snakes, symbols of Hades, curled around her body as proof of her husband’s love.

“Do you like it?” Ivar asks, ignoring your previous words and looming over your back as he regards the delicate bracelet you hold. Not waiting for your answer, he motions for it and talks to the man behind the stall in his own language.

You place your touch back on the King’s arm, but this time is a call for attention, “Thank you, but I couldn’t, I don’t need it.”

But he shakes his head, lips pressed into a line, “I asked if you liked it, not if you needed it.”

“Must we argue about everything?” You sigh, exasperated as you watch him pay for the bracelet with curt words.

When he turns his gaze back to you, he does so with the arrogant and maddening smile you have learned to hate, “I don’t know. Shall we argue about that?”

You just huff in response, striding your way to a stall with bright linens and leaving him -and his bracelet- behind.

“Sure, make the cripple chase after you.” He growls, the bite in his voice paired with shame that even with your back turned to him you can sense, making you falter. A moment regret pangs at your stomach, but you will not apologize. Instead, you move to one somewhat empty passageway, so you can speak freely,

“I don’t like that word,” You grit out as you turn to watch him approach, “Rather, I don’t like how you use it.”

Ivar stands in front of one of the more secluded alleys, and you can sense the tension in his frame, the shame and despair, but say nothing about it.

He is quick to fire back, “Well, I don’t particularly like being a cripple, wife.”

“Oh, for the love of-…” You growl as the word rings in your head, and you pace away from Ivar for a moment, running a hand through your hair as you roll your eyes. When you turn back to the King, you face his angry and defensive gaze with your own, determined and fierce, “You are much more than your legs, you are what you made out of yourself past them, because of them,” Shaking your head but keeping your voice down and the people from hearing, you hiss, “It would have been easy for you to wallow in pity and let the world look down upon you, but you didn’t. You are dedicated, and strong, and brilliant, and…and many more things; and you chose to show them to never underestimate you, you made the choice to fight.

His eyes look into both of your own, the movement of the Greek-Fire like irises hinting at a desperation, a hesitancy, a fear, you once would never have believed Ivar would be able to show.

You reach with impulsive, careless, stupid fingers to trace the scar that has mesmerized you for so long, that runs right over his cheekbone, under his eye. He jumps at the touch, although not as violently as the last time you were this stupid, and keeps silent as his eyes, his mesmerizing eyes, jump between yours with a thousand questions written in them.

With a deep breath and refusing to move your gaze from his, even if you feel as exposed as he is, you continue,

“And it wasn’t easy, was it? It wasn’t and it is not fair. And if you use that word like…like they use it, you prove them right. And we both know they are not right about you.

With one last caress of his jaw, you lower your hand and press a vulnerable palm over his armored heart, looking up at him with determination.

Ivar regards you in silence, surprising you at his lack of defensiveness, of bite, of cruelty. But his guarded, so tightly controlled expression that it almost looks fragile makes something within you relent, something within you soften.

And your voice is just as quiet as before, but this time lacking the bite when you say, “So…stop using that word like an insult, because you turned that word into so much more. Because you are so much more,” You say, the fervor in your voice surprising you. After a beat of silence, you add in a mumble, “Like an insufferably stubborn man, among other things.”

He says nothing in response, only stubbornly offering you the bracelet with a clenched jaw. You roll your eyes, but extend your arm and allow him to put it on your wrist, trying to dispel the electrifying effects his warm touch has on your skin.

With his fingers still on your wrist, Ivar tugs and draws you closer. Surprised, your feet clumsily cross the space he demands to be crossed, and you look up into his eyes, those alluring eyes that both threaten and adore.

Ivar says nothing for a few moments, before finally moving forward, and your heart skips a beat, your breath leaves you. For a moment that lasts an eternity, you think he will be the one to give in.

But Ivar only leans close to speak by your ear, a murmur of your name. A moment, and you hear him again, quietly, barely a breath, “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” You warn, just as quietly, “I did not say those things expecting gratitude, I said them because they are true.”

Uncertain fingers trace one last hesitant caress along the skin in your wrist, right over the bracelet he gifted you with, and it is a silent agreement between you that you both return to browsing the market.

“Almost as fine as Byzantine silk, I swear on it,” The woman promises, offering you a display of soft and flowing linens. “Fit for the Gods, even.”

You laugh as you shake your head, “I am far from divine, good woman.”

“Because you lack my silk,” She insists with a toothy smile, and another light chuckle leaves your lips as you look over the different colors of the silk she offers, eyeing the varying colors and trying to decide on a good one for a formal peplos.

A rough hand grabs one of the dark red pieces before you can make your choice.

“I like this one.” Ivar says, and even if his tone makes it sound like an order, you still nod your approval and ask the vendor for the needed linens.

Later, after spending part of your day browsing the dresses and cloth offered in the market so tirelessly your feet now ache, you relax in your bed with a warm cup of milk and honey in your hands, watching as the pale sun settles over Kattegat’s horizon.

The warmth of the fire, the safety of the house around you, the rhythm of this city; none of this should feel as familiar, as comforting as it does.

Drawing your knees to your chest, hiding bare and cold feet under the furs, you set the cup down and keep your tired eyes on the horizon, even if the sun’s light is quick to blind you.

When you blink past the light, you find yourself looking into eyes as blue and as burning as Greek Fire, and a small smile pulls at your lips. He extends a hand, offers you a bracelet.

You roll your eyes, but accept Ivar’s warm touch as he places the bracelet around your wrist. Proudly keeping your place at his side, you walk with him through the street.

A woman keeps her dark eyes on you as you walk her by, and when you offer her a small smile and a nod in recognition, she offers you a smirk.

“Snakes curl at your feet. They bind you to this realm.” She says, her Greek harsh, only slightly better than Ivar’s. You swallow past the knot in your throat, and turn your gaze once again to the path ahead of you, jaw set tightly.

“Not for long.”

She laughs, darkly, hungrily, knowingly.

“You should know better than to say that, chosen of Persephone.”

You stop dead in your tracks, something off about her flawless Greek startling you. She holds your gaze, a challenge shining in her blind eyes. You blink, trying to see what changed of her face that unsettles you so, but you cannot seem to focus.

The woman lowers her face, a dark laugh echoing around you as darkness consumes the once vivid and loud streets. You turn around wildly, looking for…for…

The woman appears in front of you, face bare and blood dripping down her full lips. She extends her hand, offers you a red veil.

A gasp makes its way out of your lips as you sit up in the bed, eyes frantically searching for…her, as if she is to still be here.

You cannot shake from your mind the snippets of the dream -Vision? Message?- from your mind, and when you straighten from the fire you were occupied with, you catch sight of the clothes and linens you bought today and are startled by the amount of red you can see.

The color of a bride’s veil. The veil she offered you.

When you lift uncertain hands to run through your loose hair, you catch a glimpse of the bracelet Ivar gifted you on your wrist.

A shackle. A snake to curl at your feet and bind you.

Trying with all your might to dispel such thoughts, you return to your seat with the now cold cup of milk and honey in your hands and close your eyes tight.

Try as you may, each time you manage to shake off the images of your dream, behind closed eyes you see the countless dreams that came before it, the countless times you saw a figure that wasn’t quite mortal lurking in your dreams.

All the times before and after your return to Eleusis where you saw clearly in the distance a pair of thrones, though you knew one would remain empty for quite a while. Even after finding yourself shackled and bound in Kattegat, the dream of the snakes that slithered around you, only to then make you trip and fall, only to let Ivar move over you, promise you a kingdom against your lips.

Gods, the vision of…of the woman that cries gold, the motherly smile, the armor covering her chest. How you could blink and see blind eyes and dark skin instead, bloodied lips and still the same warm and welcoming smile. Both hands extended towards you, of which you found yourself unable to hold on to neither.

You never believed it to be a curse, to be a woman born destined to be close to the Gods.

But your eyes fill with tears, your heart grows heavy, and you cannot help but think how life could have been so much easier, how you could have been so happy, if only you had never known both of the Seer and the Oracle, of Freyja and Persephone. Of Kattegat and Attica.

And how you wish for a life where you don’t feel Fate tearing you in two.

____

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked this chapter!

Also, yes, I made a Phantom of the Opera reference lol

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 4 years

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Camila//this is our place, we make the rules

Request: Camila mendes x reader where they get Madeleine (readers sister) with Vanessa mad they have a double movie date at their house and when r and mads fall asleep V and cami talk about how much they really fell for them

hey! i hope you like this! its gay, fun and fluffy!! also, i don’t know if anybody knows but i l o v e taylor swift, so a good portion of requests will be named after lyrics from her songs, sorry, i don’t make the rules. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ this one is from ‘lover’ by the way (i was heavily influenced by the song and i was feeling soft). anyway, have a good day/night! stay safe, be gay!

The universe works in mysterious ways. Everyone knows that, its like the universes’s thing. Some people are funny, some people are smart, and some people like to control life every aspect of life in weird ways. When they are actually people, they’re sociopaths, but when its all of space and time, its just one of its cute little quirks.

People can be connected by something as small as a name, but it can lead to something so big. An invisible tether connecting you to these people, and its something that you don’t even know about until years later when you’re talking about that funny story from ages ago and the other person is like ‘oh, i used to go there all the time’ or ‘how weird, my aunt lives right around the corner of your childhood home and we never met once’.

And it doesn’t have to be that type of connection. A serious of fortunate (or unfortunate) events can lead you to a whole load of new people. You could walk into the wrong classroom in a new school and meet your best friend, or find a new coffee shop after your usual is closed for the day and meet the love of your life.

There’s so many ways that you can be connected to people, you never know when you’re going to meet a friend, and enemy, or something more.

Its both magical and terrifying at the same time. A story waiting to be told, you just have to stand on the right butterfly or tempt just the right amount of fate.

For you and your sister, Madelaine, you both did exactly that. And thankfully the universe seemed to be on your side.

One day, she gets a job on the CW’s newest show, and then a few years later, both of you end up with girlfriends from the same show. And while you and Camila may have been fast to get together (within a few months of actually meeting), it took a little longer (and a lot of sisterly teasing) to get Madelaine to admit that she was head over heels for her on-screen girlfriend.

It was a long and sometimes tedious road for all four of you. Madelaine complaining to you, Vanessa complaining to Camila and then the two of you complaining to each other. You eventually locked them in a room together, something you haven’t done since you were a teenager, and they thankfully got together.

While Madelaine and Vanessa were playing ‘will they, won’t they?’, you had your own things going on. You and Camila had finally made the step to move in together. And after months of searching for the right house (and one that you could afford), you finally found it. A cute little place tucked into a side street of LA.

“I think thats everything.” You smile and look around the large living room. Its been a long few months. But they’ve been fun though. When you were younger, you never thought you would actually be here, buying a home with a girl you loved more than anything and who loved you back.

You and Madelaine would spend hours talking about how you would decorate your own houses. They would be right next door to each other (much to her dismay), with a gate in the back garden so you could come and see each other anytime (again...dismay). Your house would be bright, filled with things you’d collected over the years, flowers and plants would decorate every room, pictures on every wall, and right in the centre, you...with her.

At the time you had no idea who she was. You just knew she would be there. You would be happy and in love and you wouldn’t care who knew. You wouldn’t be scared, or try to hide. You’d just be you, she’d be her, and the two of you would be together.

And thats exactly what you got. Funnily enough though, when you think back you’re pretty sure whoever she was, kinda looked a bit like Camila.

Madelaine’s house is a little different from how she planned when she was 13. Yes, she had the large house and the dogs. But instead of the man, she got the woman instead (much better in your opinion). Which is something it took her a while to get her head around.

She watched you grow up, figure yourself out and then come out to the world. She saw your struggles and your victories. She wiped your tears when someone was mean, and laughed with you at your first pride together.

She watched as Camila went through the same struggle after meeting you. She listened to her while she went through every possible scenario that could happen if people found out.

And she watched Vanessa play this badass bisexual on screen, but struggle with the possibility of liking girls behind closed doors.

Three of her favourite women in all the world, all going through the same experiences. Having the same fears. And then she did the same. Thankfully, all four of you came out the other end stronger and a lot happier.

You and Camila got together five months after the first time meeting and that was almost three years ago. Madelaine finally admitted how much she really liked Vanessa, due to the looming threat of you telling her yourself if she didn’t, and today marks their six month anniversary.

That, mixed with your new home is the reason all four of you are hanging out tonight. Its a double movie date, that will definitely end in all of you falling asleep in the living room, slightly drunk.

“No more boxes?” Camila asks and wraps an arm around your waist. You lean into her touch, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

“I think so. I think we’ve officially unpacked everything.” You grin and her expression mirrors yours. She stares at your for a few seconds, just taking everything in, before letting out a content sigh.

“So we’ve officially moved in?”

“Yep...we’re home owners.” You press a soft kiss to her lips and the world blurs around you for a few seconds. Thats until the doorbell rings and you have to reluctantly pull yourself away from her.

“If I’m to go into crippling debt with anybody, its always going to be.” She says sweetly and you giggle before opening the door.

“Y/N!!” Madelaine shouts and hugs you tightly. You groan, but it just makes her grip tighten as you struggle against her.

“Hi V.” Camila appears behind you, completely ignoring you and Madelaine, she learnt the day she met you, don’t get in the middle of a Petsch argument...it won’t end well.

So she starts talking to Vanessa, the two of them having a small catch up, while you struggle away from Madelaine. You huff loudly and straighten your clothes out while she sends you a sarcastic smile.

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in weeks.” She says, pushing past you and into the living room. Vanessa passes you, whispering a ‘sorry’ as she follows her girlfriend.

“Thats not accidental.” You send her a sweet smile and she rolls her eyes at you.

“Here.” Vanessa interrupts and hands you a small gift bag. “Its a housewarming gift.”

“Aww.” Camila makes her way over to where you’re stood and the two of you quickly open the bag, revealing a picture of the two of you from the first day you met. You’re stood next to each other, shy smiles and soft blushes barely noticeable to anybody else. But you see them and they make you smile brightly at each other.

“Thank you.” Camila says and the four of you hug.

“So.” Madelaine is the first to pull away, now looking around. “My baby sister actually has her own house. Have you drawn all over the walls yet.” She teases and you shove her.

“Everybody knows it was you that drew on the walls and then you would blame me.”

“And mom and dad still believe me!” She smiles triumphantly.

“Yet, I’m still the favourite.”

“Who knows why, I was definitely the cutest.” She argues.

“You keep telling yourself that...potato face.” You reply and she sends you a scowl in return.

“At least I didn’t look like a ham when I was a baby.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and she looks exactly the same as she did when you would steal her toys.

“At least I don’t look like a ham now.” You retort and she gasps, offended. You send her a small smile, happy that you’ve won this round and she continues to glare at you.

“Aw, its just so nice watching how they love each other isn’t it?” Camila whispers to Vanessa and she stifles a laugh as the two of them watch you insult each other.

“Tell me about it.” She groans.

“Do you want a drink?” She asks, motioning to the kitchen. Vanessa looks at the two of you, now actually physically fighting before taking a deep breath and turning back to Camila.

“...please.”

----

“Mads! When you’re finished snooping, the movie’s about to start!” You shout into the kitchen.

You and Cami are cuddled together on one of the sofa’s, while Vanessa waits for Madelaine to come back with the snacks on the other. The empty take out cartons are scattered on the coffee table, and the three of you wait in anticipation for whatever Madelaine brings back, all of you chatting about work.

“Please tell me someone other than you has chosen it.” Madelaine asks as she walks in. Her hands full of food and drinks and Vanessa quickly stands to help carry them.

“Cami chose it.” You reply and smile at your girlfriend, reaching out to hold her hand and she gives it a light squeeze, the two of you momentarily forgetting that you have company. You’ve both been dreaming of this night for months, the first proper night in your finished home and now its here you can’t quite believe it.

“Oh, thank god. You have an atrocious taste in films.” Madelaine says and you’re moment is gone. Your soft expression reserved only for Cami, has now turned into a scowl as you stare at you sister.

“Well, I watch everything with you in so maybe thats more on you than me.” You say casually and a grin takes over her appearance as she sits down beside Vanessa.

“Aw, you watch the movies I’m in?”

“Yeah, the very few that there is.” You snide and she looks at you offended.

“How many movies are you in?”

“How many CW shows that are well written are you in?” You reply and its followed by a chorus of offended ‘heys!’

“Sorry babe, and V.”

“And?” Madelaine asks impatiently. You look at her confused for a few seconds before she tuts and looks at the tv. “Why couldn’t mom and dad have just gotten a dog?” She mutters making Vanessa laugh softly.

“I’m sure they thought the same thing when they found out about you.” You reply. “A dog would certainly have been a lot cuter, and well behaved...and maybe a little more talented to-OW!”

You’re interrupted by a cushion smacking you square in the face, followed by loud laughter from Madelaine and Vanessa. Cami stifles a laugh beside you and you pout at her for a few seconds.

“Its a good job you’re cute.” You mumble and cross your arms over your chest, still pouting at Cami and she presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. You reach for the cushion thats fallen on the floor, but before you can throw it at a now distracted Madelaine, Cami grabs it from you and throws it gently to V who puts it back.

“Don’t even think about it. Those pillows are new.” She scolds.

“Is everyone ready?” Vanessa asks and you all hum in reply.

“Wait!” Madelaine shouts.

“Play the damn movie V.” You say before she has the chance to say anything else.

“Happily.” She laughs while Madelaine pouts beside her.

Silence settles over the room as the opening titles start. You and Cami cuddle even closer than before and a content sigh slips past your lips. She presses a soft kiss to your forehead while her fingers draw lazy patterns on an exposed part of your arm.

“Can we always be this close?” She whispers and a blush settles on your cheeks.

“Forever.”

“Get a room!” Madelaine groans and Cami throws a pillow at her.

“I didn’t think it was possible for me to love you more but I do.” You grin and kiss her quickly while Madelaine complains.

“I thought these were new.” She mocks and the two of you roll your eyes.

“They are, but this is our house so we make the rules.”

“And our first rule is for you to shut up.”

“Thats not a rule, thats an order.” She grumbles to herself and Vanessa pats her shoulder sympathetically.

“Its okay babe. When we get a house together our first rule can be that they’re not allowed inside.” She mumbles making a small smile appear on her lips.

----

“Cami.” Vanessa whispers, stretching to kick her gently. She pulls her gaze away from the tv, now nearing the end of the movie, to look at her friend. Vanessa doesn’t say anything, just gestures to Madelaine and then over to you, both of you fast asleep and curled up in exactly the same positions.

“As much as they annoy the hell out of each, they are literally exact the same.” She laughs as the two of you snore softly.

“Does Y/n refuse to believe she snores too.”

“God yes.” Cami snorts a laugh and the two of you stir slightly. Vanessa and Cami continue to laugh as quietly as possible at the two of you, your snoring seemingly getting louder with each breath and it sounds like the two of you are competing with each other.

“The first time Mads stayed the night, I thought someone was doing road works outside.” Vanessa whispers making Cami wheeze with laughter.

“Stop it.” She waves an arm around while holding her stomach with the other one. “I’m gonna pee.”

“Don’t get me started on the peeing. I swear she gets up about three times a night to go. And she turns-”

“Every single light on!” Camila adds and the two of them laugh loudly again.

“Yes!”

“I wake up at 2am thinking its early afternoon because its that bright.”

“We really fell for them though didn’t we?” Vanessa asks, her tone a lot softer as she glances at her sleeping girlfriend.

“Yeah...I suppose we did.” Camila replies, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

“Life works in weird ways doesn’t it?”

“Definitely.” She nods. “If you’d have told me four years that I’d be a homeowner at 26 with my girlfriend of three years...I honestly would have cried.” She admits making Vanessa frown. “Not for that reason...obviously.” She glances at you. “Its just, I never thought I could be this happy with somebody. But I am. I’m so, unbelievably happy that sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“If she was awake I don’t know if she would say ‘aw’ or ‘ew’.” Vanessa laughs.

“Probably a mix of both.”

“I forgot to ask earlier.” Vanessa starts and Cami reluctantly pulls her gaze away from you. “Does this place feel like a home yet?”

“Anywhere with her is my home.”

#camila mendes #camila mendes x reader #camila mendes imagine #camila mendes x you #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale cast

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

I Love You Snow Much

Jaskier had never really experienced the snow when he was young but Eskel is more than happy to indulge him in somewhat childish winter adventures involving snowmen, selfies, and snuggles...

A/N: it snowed and i prompty turned that into jaskel fluff, as one does, for my last fic this year - partly inspired by ladyblanc_ru on ao3 x

“Two more minutes…” Jaskier mumbles sleepily.

He’d ended up staying awake long into ungodly hours of the night after being inspired for another song yesterday and although he doesn’t know exactly what time it is, he’s pretty sure it’s somewhere close to no-thanks-o’clock.

“Jas, you’re going to want to wake up for this,” Eskel whispers softly. Jaskier groans but knows that his favourite person in the whole wide world wouldn’t wake him up unless it was important so he grudgingly peels open his eyes, smiling softly when he does.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he mumbles as he sits up and wraps his arms around Eskel.

He doesn’t need to look at Eskel to know he’s blushing but to be fair, he couldn’t have looked at Eskel anyway because his attention is immediately caught by the window. Or rather, the view through the window. The perfectly white view of their street through the window.

Jaskier gasps, scrambling off the bed to push the curtains all the way aside, laughing when he confirms he’s not dreaming and it really had snowed overnight. After a moment of taking in the view of the usually average, now stunning road they live on, he turns back to Eskel to see the other man smiling in amusement.

“We have snow!” he declares rather obviously before turning back to the view.

Eskel makes his way over to the window and wraps his arms around Jaskier’s waist, resting his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder. “You’re not going outside before you eat something.”

Jaskier makes a face that Eskel only sees in his reflection. “Buzzkill.”

“And how are you going to perform this weekend if you catch a cold?” Eskel asks, placing a soft kiss on Jaskier’s neck that sends a warm shiver through him.

“I hate it when you go all logical on me, darling,” Jaskier complains, then swivels on the spot and raises an eyebrow. “Also, what do you mean by before I go outside? Aren’t you coming?”

Eskel shrugs. “I thought you’d go with your friends.”

Not for the first time, Jaskier wishes he could beat the insecurity inside his boyfriend with a stick. Or a sword. Or an axe. Or anything else that would kill it, really. He sighs dramatically before placing his hands on either side of Eskel’s face. “Like hell I’m going to enjoy the first snow we’ve had in years with anyone other than you.”

“Are you sure?” Eskel asks. It really has been years since they’ve had snow where they live and he would hate for Jaskier to give him the day when he has so many other people to spend it with, especially since Eskel had visited his family the year before, where there’d been so much snow they’d literally been snowed in.

Jaskier leans up and kisses him.

When he pulls back, he tilts his head to one side with a small smirk. “Do you need any more convincing or can we go find breakfast now?”

Eskel laughs, his eyes practically glowing even though they haven’t even gone outside and done anything fun yet. “Alright, fine. Don’t take too long polishing your nose or whatever.”

Jaskier splutters in mock outrage as Eskel makes his way to the kitchen, choosing to make toast because it’s the quickest option and he’s pretty sure Jaskier would murder him if he started properly cooking. He makes coffee as well, even though he’d argue that Jaskier may as well have caffeine in his very genes with the way he acts most of the time.

“Ooh, smells good!” Jaskier grins as he swings into the kitchen, sparing a brief moment to kiss Eskel again before starting on a piece of toast.

It doesn’t take them long to finish eating, after which Eskel throws the warmest coat he can find at Jaskier, raising his eyebrows as if daring him to complain that it’s not fashionable enough. He doesn’t, but he does stick his tongue out and pointedly slip on the weird, barely protective gloves he’d bought that allow for using a phone through the material.

“Don’t blame me if your fingers fall off,” Eskel grumbles as he pulls on his own, properly formed gloves.

Jaskier hums. “Yes okay, mother, can we go now?”

And so they do.

Jaskier slips his hands into Eskel’s as soon as they lock the door behind them and although Eskel can barely feel it through his gloves, he adores the feeling of Jaskier’s fingers entwined with his own. He doesn’t adore it quite as much when Jaskier keeps pulling him over to countless trees and flowers so he can take pictures of the snow on them because nature is beautiful and I am going to write so many songs about this, just you wait, but he can’t really bring himself to be annoyed, aside from when Jaskier thinks he’s being subtle and sneaks in some selfies.

Regardless, they make it to the park. Jaskier laughs as soon as they get there, squeezing Eskel’s hand in excitement. “We get to make the first footsteps!”

“After you,” Eskel says, not quite as bothered about such things.

Jaskier grins at him, letting go of his hand and practically sprinting over the grass until he reaches just past the middle of the park, where he collapses. For a moment, Eskel is filled with the awful fear that something’s gone wrong, but then Jaskier lifts an arm in the air and makes a peace sign because of course he does, the dramatic idiot that he is.

By the time Eskel reaches him, which is actually quite a while because he refuses to run and embarrass himself by slipping, he’s saying something into his camera. He grins up at Eskel when he arrives, pointing the phone at him. “...and look who it is, the gorgeous man himself! I love him snow much but he really took his sweet time getting over here as if I wasn’t eagerly waiting for him to hey-!”

Eskel rolls his eyes at the camera before ending the video, holding a hand out for Jaskier, who pouts before taking it, swinging himself up and into Eskel, almost knocking the two of them over.

“I thought you’d died,” Eskel teases.

Jaskier scoffs. “Do I look like someone who dies, darling?”

Eskel shrugs because he doesn’t really know what to say to that and Jaskier folds his arms. “Moving on because we are not allowed to ruin my snow day by talking about death. Now, go and find some snow!”

Unfortunately, Eskel is too busy regretting not having invited Jaskier over for Christmas the year before so he could have enjoyed all the snow there to realise he’s meant to be arming himself. He does notice when snow lands right in his ear though.

Cursing, he looks up to see Jaskier biting his lip, clearly torn between victory and concern. He chooses victory when Eskel sighs, blowing a kiss and going to pick up more snow. Eskel takes the chance to do the same, this time ready for when Jaskier throws another snowball, throwing back two at the same time and laughing when one catches the lower half of Jaskier’s face.

“That’s against the rules!” Jaskier yells, spluttering.

Eskel laughs. “I thought you said rules are for cowards?”

He gets a snowball to the chest as a reply. And another to his shoulder as he bends down to gather more snow, both dissolving into a spray of white when they hit him. He catches the back of Jaskier’s head when he stands and grins at the subsequent stream of soft swearing but this time doesn’t let it distract him from the way Jaskier is clearly readying himself to attack again.

They’re both covered in bits of snow by the time they pause, Jaskier letting his head drop onto Eskel’s shoulder with a groan. “Where on earth do you get your stamina?”

Eskel shrugs, then curls an arm around Jaskier so he doesn’t fall over. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Jaskier chuckles, then lifts his head up and loops his arms around Eskel’s neck. Eskel keeps one arm around Jaskier’s waist, using his free hand to carefully brush any flakes of snow off his eyebrows, marvelling at how his Jaskier’s eyes are somehow brighter and more blue than the sky behind him.

“I love you,” Jaskier murmurs.

Despite the way he can’t feel his feet, the words send warmth all the way down to Eskel’s bones themselves. He uses his free hand to pull Jaskier closer and kiss the snow off his slightly frozen but still perfect lips, smiling when one of Jaskier’s hands settles in his hair, the other staying curled around his neck to keep them close.

Eskel could honestly live in the moment forever. But he doesn’t have to because they share so many just like it all the time, for which he can never thank the universe and their lucky stars and everything else that brought and kept them together enough.

“And I love you back,” Eskel murmurs in return.

Jaskier beams, untangling himself. “Can we build a snowman?”

“I thought you were tired?” Eskel asks, but Jaskier only shrugs and crouches down, starting to roll some snow together.

Laughing quietly, Eskel crouches and starts rolling snow as well. Jaskier smiles at the way Eskel so easily indulges him, taking a couple of pictures before his boyfriend notices and then turning back to his lopsided shape to try and transform it into something remotely useful. Eskel finishes his part first, and Jaskier’s jaw drops when he sees how tall he’d managed to make the base of their snowman.

“I can’t believe you keep telling me you never really liked building snowmen when you’re so good at it. I mean, seriously?” Jaskier places his hands on his hips.

Eskel chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I wasn’t lying.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Jaskier says as he places whatever his lopsided shape is atop Eskel’s almost perfect sphere, “but you could have warned me I was working with a professional.”

“Yours isn’t… bad,” Eskel offers.

Jaskier snorts, then leans up to kiss Eskel’s cheek. “You’re sweet but come on, I never stood a chance when you have more experience anyway.”

It still baffles Eskel that Jaskier had never truly experienced snow until he’d moved out for university but it only makes him all the more glad they’d ended up together because Jaskier’s extreme excitement over winter weather is contagious and he adores everything about it.

“Come on, I want to finish him,” Jaskier all but whines, gathering more snow for the snowman’s head.

Eskel resists the urge to comment on Jaskier’s phrasing and gathers some stray twigs for the arms along with two berries from the nearest bush for the eyes. He forgets all about the mouth, only noticing anything is missing when Jaskier facepalms and points at his lips with a barely contained smirk.

“Well, I can’t do everything, can I?” Eskel mutters.

Jaskier wobbles to his feet and elbows him. “Shut up, you love me really.”

“If you say so,” Eskel replies, adding some snow to where the snowman looks like it’s about to tilt over.

“Would you kiss a leaf?” Jaskier asks as he returns.

Eskel frowns. “Only if I wanted to contract some kind of disease.”

Jaskier groans, gently shoving him aside to place the oddly-shaped leaf he’d found in place of their snowman’s mouth. “It’s not like he’s about to kiss anyone any time soon anyway,” he says as if having seriously considered whether snow and leaves would make for an enjoyable display of affection.

“Shame,” Eskel mutters.

Once they finish adding the finishing touches, Jaskier beams at Eskel like his world is complete. "He's perfect! I love him snow much but not as much as I love you," he giggles, kissing Eskel again, who doesn't know if he's meant to be amused or flattered or just generally in love.

Half a dozen pictures and half a dozen more later, they stand up. Jaskier takes Eskel’s hand and pulls him over to a cleaner patch of snow, where he grins and flops onto the ground. Eskel sighs at the thudding noise, pinching the bridge of his nose and hoping Jaskier doesn’t spend the whole evening begging for a massage.

Jaskier on the other hand just grins at how clear the sky is. It’s vast and blue and perfectly smooth and he itches to write a song about it. That, and the way Eskel looks like an angel in his ridiculously insulated coat, the same one he’s offered to Jaskier so many times in the past when his own more style-focused outfits have left him shaking from the cold.

“Eskel, my darling,” Jaskier drawls, “won’t you lie down with me?”

Of course he will. Jaskier may be a dramatic idiot but he’s Eskel’s dramatic idiot of choice and his requests are not so easily refused. It takes a few seconds of manoeuvring but he settles beside Jaskier, a small gasp escaping him as the already-quiet world seems to quieten even more and all he can hear is his own heartbeat.

“Isn’t it a beautiful view?” Jaskier asks breathlessly.

Eskel turns to him, his eyes travelling over the soft redness spilling across his cheeks, the wide smile on his face, the glittering flakes of snow on the fluffy hood of his coat, and the sparkle in his eyes. “The most beautiful one I’ve ever seen,” he agrees.

Jaskier frowns before turning to meet his gaze and blushing as if his face wasn’t already flushed enough. For once, he stays silent, finding Eskel’s hands and interlocking their fingers together, neither of them wanting to move or disrupt the stillness around them. And it’s not that either of them decides they’ve had enough peace for one day but the ground is freezing and Eskel decides it’s been long enough when Jaskier starts shivering.

He pulls himself to his feet, tugging Jaskier upright as he does despite his protests. “You are going to freeze,” Eskel tells him, “and I don’t want a frozen boyfriend.”

“I love you so much,” Jaskier whispers.

Eskel blinks. It’s not that confessions of love are rare for Jaskier, they’re more often than not given far more than strictly necessary, but there’s something so sincere and delicate about Jaskier’s voice that Eskel can’t avoid the lump that threatens to build in the back of his throat.

“I love you more than anything,” Jaskier adds before kissing away the reply Eskel hasn’t yet been able to form.

He doesn’t form one even as Jaskier takes his hand once again, this time leading them back out of the park, pausing once or twice to take a few more photos and wave goodbye to their snowman before they finally leave and get back to their street.

“And I, you,” Eskel finally replies as they reach the front door of their apartment complex, fishing the keys out of his pocket since he hadn’t trusted Jaskier not to lose them again.

Jaskier grins, slipping his gloves off and stamping his feet before they make their way inside where Eskel silently persuades Jaskier to slide out of his coat before collapsing onto the rug. Unlike in the park, Eskel doesn’t join him in lying down and letting the world fade away again, instead hanging up their coats before heading straight for the kitchen.

“Eskel, where did you go?” Jaskier eventually calls from his position on the floor, grumbling to himself when he doesn’t get a response and reluctantly pulling himself to his feet so he can go find his boyfriend to use as a personal heater.

He takes another photo of Eskel, who seems to be stirring something into a mug with a strangely fond expression on his face, before making his way over and wrapping his arms around the other man the same way he’d done in reverse only hours ago. “What are you upto, hmm?”

Eskel chuckles. “Hot chocolate. Absolutely necessary after spending time in the snow.”

“What, doctor’s orders?” Jaskier laughs.

“More importantly, Vesemir’s orders,” Eskel corrects, nudging Jaskier back towards the living room. “Go find a blanket, I’ll be right there.”

Jaskier sighs loudly but does as he’s told, pulling up their largest blanket - one that just so happens to be covered in drawings of goats because Eskel had fallen in love with it and Jaskier could never have lived with himself if he’d denied his boyfriend something that made him so happy - and waiting none too patiently, taking the opportunity to send over all the pictures he’d taken on their adventure.

“Alright, move over,” Eskel orders as he emerges with two mugs - ones that just so happen to be shaped so they look like they’re hugging when put together because Jaskier had fallen in love with them and Eskel hadn’t even hesitated before agreeing to buy them even though they’re really sort of impractical.

He hands Jaskier the blue mug, keeping the red one for himself, and the two of them settle on the couch, Eskel with one arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and Jaskier with one arm around Eskel’s waist. Being as close to one another as physically possible is worth the risk of spilled beverages and anyway, Eskel had made sure their drinks weren’t boiling to avoid any major disasters.

“How do you always get this to taste so good?” Jaskier asks the same way he does every time Eskel makes him any kind of drink.

“Magic,” Eskel replies, kissing the top of Jaskier’s head.

Jaskier laughs, snuggling into their embrace even more. “Mhm, you are pretty magical. Pretty and magical. I love you. I love you snow much.”

Eskel can feel his face heat up again, and not because of the hot chocolate, but he hides it behind feigning exasperation at yet another repeat of Jaskier's admittedly cute but still terrible pun. He doesn’t reply at all this time but he knows Jaskier doesn’t mind, both of them focusing on their drinks until their mugs are empty.

“Would you mind if I fell asleep?” Jaskier mumbles, turning and leaning almost entirely on Eskel, both of his arms now curled around him.

“You know I wouldn’t,” Eskel says, pushing Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes and smiling when he hums happily, already knowing they’re both going to wake up with aching or numb limbs later but also knowing that it will have been worth it.

“You’re the best,” Jaskier announces after a moment, yawning despite them only having spent a few hours outside. To be fair, though, he probably hadn’t gotten more than a couple hours the night before, so Eskel doesn’t feel like teasing him about it.

Only when he’s sure Jaskier is asleep does he shift so he’s leaning on the arm of the couch, adjusting them so they’re both a little more comfortable before kissing the top of Jaskier’s head again. Picking his phone up from the table next to him, he opens the gallery and scrolls through the photos that Jaskier has sent him in backwards order, with the occasional sigh when he gets to the photos of himself that he didn’t know Jaskier was taking but will definitely be immediately used as his lockscreen, until he gets to the video from when Jaskier had first collapsed into the snow.

“I’m lying in snow, actual snow! Isn’t that great?” Jaskier grins at the camera, and Eskel has to pause it to cherish the look on his face before pressing play again. “I know you’re going to be watching this when I’m busy or asleep so once again, thank you for indulging me, Eskel. It means a lot to me that you’ve let me be a child again with you.”

Eskel is briefly filled with rage once more, a rage directed towards Jaskier’s parents who, despite existing where Eskel’s own had not, had left a gap in Jaskier’s life where a normal childhood should have been.

“And before you get all grumpy, don’t. I love you so much and meeting you was worth everything. Well, all the things that came after were also worth it but I don’t need to go into everything because you know what I mean.”

That he does. One thing the two of them have always shared from the very first time they’d met was being able to read one another almost perfectly. Not all the time, sure, but they never seemed to suffer from the sheer amount of miscommunication that some of their mutual acquaintances had.

“Anyway, uhm, I just wanted to say that I got you an invite to come with me over the weekend so we can spend new year’s in the snow too. Not that I knew we’d already have had a snow day before then so now I don’t know how to ask without it being awkward, hence this video… and look who it is, the gorgeous man himself! ”

Eskel blinks as the bit he remembers plays out, including his own eye-roll. He replays the video twice, partly due to disbelief but also because Jaskier is talking extremely fast, most definitely not tearing up as he realises Jaskier must have picked up on his reluctance for them to part just before the new year even though he’d been trying his best not to hold him back from his music.

“You were wrong earlier, Jas,” Eskel murmurs into Jaskier’s hair, “because actually, you’re the best.”

When Jaskier curls himself a little tighter around Eskel even whilst asleep, there’s absolutely no doubt left in Eskel’s mind that there’s nobody he’d want to spend not only this new year’s but every other new year’s for the rest of his life with. But that’s a conversation for another day so he just puts the phone down and pulls the blanket up over Jaskier, melting into the warmth of falling asleep next to his favourite person, content.

i tried really hard not to just throw in angst like i've been doing with all my other wips lately and i'm not sure i was entirely successful but hey, i'm pretty happy with how it turned out :)

someone on ao3 pointed out that this fits in with my bakery au so now it does, here’s the masterlist for that if you’re interested :)

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

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sonicringbond · 3 years

Text

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 47

Well, I’m going to keep this intro short today. There isn’t really a lot of ways I can set up leading into today’s scene. So, please jump straight into...

“Hee-hee! It’s really you!” Rosy giggled and could not keep herself still. She fidgeted all about and her tail was wagging with more energy than usual. Then, in an explosion of joy she flung herself at who she was speaking with. “TAILS!”

“Ha-ha!” Tails laughed and struggled to keep himself balanced as Rosy embraced him in a huge diving hug. “It’s good to see you too Rosy! Woah!”

Spun about by the force of Rosy’s embrace, Tails put his namesake twin tails to use and flew up with Rosy joyously hanging on to him. The sight was almost too much for Draw and Blister.

“My, he’s an interesting one, isn’t he?”

“Is he… I mean… how exactly…,” Draw stammered in comparison to Blister’s smooth handling of her surprise. Though that could have been partly due to her being a pirate and a merchant, or just the deliberate and sleepy sounding way she spoke.

To calm Draw down, Sonic gently rapped his knuckles against his head. Clutching his head, the koala angrily turned onto Sonic. “What was that for!”

“Just lending a hand,” Sonic laughed as he really did mean Draw no harm. As Draw was blunter than Blister and was not familiar with Tails like Mighty and Gill, Sonic did have to take a moment to be a little more serious. “And you can help him out by not making a fuss about them. Until you’re used to them enough to consider them normal, and by then you shouldn’t have a reason to.”

“I get it, just don’t hit me!” Draw complained, even though he knew Sonic meant him no harm. Still, he had to get the last word in. And Sonic let him, though his smug smile told Draw it was not his victory. There was no time to keep at it though as everyone fully disembarked from Blister’s airship and moved to greet Tails.

~I’m so happy to have caught up with Tails, and of course he’s being as amazing as ever!

~Picking up his Ring Radio was a total surprise as Blister was simply trying to make sure hers was properly integrated with her ship. It’s something we can ask Tails to double check on later, but he’s been pretty busy. Being amazing of course~♥

~The last we knew, Tails was looking for another pit of radio signal boosting crystals like the ones at Radio Point. What he found instead was a whole medieval castle town, and not a normal one! This one was built entirely upside down on the underside of a giant land bridge. Maybe…~

“It’s pretty wild Sonic,” Tails happily explained to Sonic as he gave the whole group a tour of where he had been researching. Despite having been separated for so long, it was impossible to tell with how naturally he talked about his findings. “It looks like the city was built upside down, but what purpose would that serve. If my research is right, then it was actually put here by a Ring Shift.”

“So, what about the people who lived here?”

Looking around as Tails led the group across the underside of a bridge, Sonic was not wrong to ask. The castle town itself looked like it could have easily supported quite a large population, however, there was no sign of anyone. Tails was more than glad to share his latest hypothesis though.

“That’s the thing Sonic, there’s no way they should have tried living here, but it looks like they did and probably moved out on their own when it got to be too much.”

“How is that possible Tails?” Rosy asked, genuinely curious.

“You want to find out?”

“Yeah!”

“You two aren’t about to cause us a lot of trouble, are you?” Sonic asked, scratching inside his ear.

“It’ll be fun, I’m sure!” Rosy threw all her faith into Tails. “Tails wouldn’t tease it if it wasn’t.”

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Draw asked and received a comforting hand on his shoulder from Mighty.

“I would say it’s because it’s what those two do. Keeping them out of trouble is as hard as keeping the wind out of a storm.”

“That’s impossible,” Draw stared at Mighty disbelieving as he replied.

Mighty’s smile and lone bead of sweat down his cheek did nothing to alleviate his concern, and Gill spoke up to make matters worse.

“That should give you an idea lad. Last time I accompanied them things just kept getting worse. And I still don’t see how they’ve gotten better.”

“If you’re so worried about being in danger, you could always leave,” Blister suggested and earned a scowl from Gill.

Rosy was too distracted to keep the mouse and frog off each other as she took Tails’ offered hand as the fox took off. Flying up towards the deserted city street above, Rosy suddenly felt gravity shift and would have fallen into Tails if he were unprepared.

“W-O-W~!” Rosy squealed with delight. “This is amazing Tails! But what’s going on?”

Looking up past the now gravitationally righted Tails, Rosy saw Sonic and the other’s standing on the underside of the bridge above her, and the cloudy sky beyond.

“It’s some type of anomalous gravity field,” Tails explained. “But it doesn’t affect the entire city equally. And you can tell people tried living here for a while after the shift due to the various twisting roads and bridges throughout the city.”

“If they were building things–”

“Then they must have lived here for a while,” Tails finished Rosy’s thought. “But that isn’t the only thing that could have driven them out. Do you remember where the others are standing?”

“Yeah,” Rosy answered confused and looked back towards Sonic and the others. She missed Tails’ smile and thus was shocked when she turned back forward to see Tails flying straight for a brick wall. “Kya~! Tails watch out! We’re going to crash!”

~The crash never came. Ooh~! I’m so mad at Tails for giving me such a scare, even if it turned out to be fun as we flew at the wall but almost crashed into Sonic and the others.

~According to Tails, the whole city is full of these weird little ‘dimensional disturbances’. He figures its part of what has been interfering with Ring Radio signals in the lands under Yolk since they transmit across dimensions. It isn’t what he was looking for when he headed out from Radio Point, but it was a great find for him.

~I’m so happy for Tails, and I know that he could study this stuff forever, but now that we’ve met back up… Well, it means we have to find Zooey and Fang and get back to working on going home. Though we may need to figure out the Gear Star Ring in my eye first. Hee-hee! It hasn’t replaced my left iris at all since finding Tails, so I nearly forgot about it. Really, seeing Tails again after so long, I nearly forgot about everything.

~Reality is such a bully though!~

“So, that’s your ship Ms. Blister?” Tails asked as they made their way back around the undersides of bridges and roof eaves to where the half avocado shaped airship was effectively moored.

“It is,” Blister nodded proudly. “It’s my pride and joy! The Avocado Green I call it!”

“That name is certainly… flavorful,” Tails nervously attempted to be kind about the strange name. Not having the courage to look the mouse who captained it in the eye, Tails looked at the ship and found a topic of conversation to switch to.

“And it looks like you have quite the crew. I can hardly believe your ship can hold them all.”

“What are you talking about?” Blister asked and turned her eyes onto her ship. “Oh dear, it looks like I’m being raided actually.”

“Raided!”

Tails shout drew everyone’s attention and in no time, they were all aware of the variety of autogolems crawling all over Blister’s vessel.

It was not Draw’s first time seeing autogolems that looked like they were crafted to resemble the armor of medieval knights, and he knew there was troubling waiting for them and reached for his bow. “Those aren’t yours, right?”

“No, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wreck my ship. Ms. Rosy has told me about your penchant for explosives.”

“I guess that’s your cue, Sonic,” Mighty offered Sonic a smile and received a confident smirk in return.

“Why not. Bashing bots is kind of my thing.”

“Can I join you!” Rosy clasped her hands together and asked with excited eyes and wagging trail.

“Sorry kid,” Sonic denied her request and ruffled her bangs. “In this terrain we can only risk Tails having to catch one of us.”

“Ooh~! Well, you better put on a show then!”

“Heh,” Sonic laughed and pointed a thumb at himself. “You know you don’t have to worry about that. Just who do you think I am?”

“Sonic the Hedgehog of course!” Rosy cheered and thrust her balled up hands into the air. Opening her eyes and bringing her arms down, she cheered Sonic on. “Go get them!”

“No problem!”

With an instinct that bordered on supernatural, Sonic took off for the airship at a pace none could match. And not because they didn’t have his speed, but no one could use it like Sonic. Surely the auto golems would soon be helpless scrap before the coming streak of blue. Except…

“Ho!”

It was the first time any of them were seeing Claymore the Purple in person, and the towering purple autogolem at his full three meters did not disappoint as he stopped Sonic in mid-air.

“What in the–?” Sonic questioned as a force pressed him tighter into his curled form and kept him rotating.

“Impressive to see a Ring Mage choose to enter a melee,” Claymore remarked, as his outstretched hand kept Sonic held in a slowly shrinking ring of purple light. “But no matter. I’ve come for the medium. Well, having interrupted your Ring Radio transmission. Ho! How fortuitous I am this day!”

With a flick of his wrist, Claymore launched Sonic deep into the castle town and turned his glowing purple eyes on Rosy.

“Ho! Forgive my rudeness Lady Medium. I am Claymore the Purple, Knight of the Order of the Swords. Now be so kind as to come along peacefully.”

Scene 47 · CLEARED Reunion Knight, to be continued

----

I find myself wanting to laugh just like Rosy did at the start of this. Obviously by the end it wasn’t too cheerful anymore, not with Sonic being yeeted off to who knows where. But, Tails is finally here again. It’s actually kind of wild writing with him involved as he really feels like the glue of the AU. His smarts and enthusiasm for his research; it’s just amazing to write really. Hopefully in the future it will be just as easy and he’ll help tie everything together nicely with that Sonic feel I sometimes feel like I’m missing.

Thank for reading everyone! I hope you’ll be back for the next scene!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Blue Skies – Tsutomu Narita – Granblue Fantasy Story Music Tracks

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

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lawrenceop · 3 years

Text

HOMILY for the 5th Sunday per annum (B)

Job 7:1-4,6-7; Ps 146; 1 Corinthians 9:16-19,22-23; Mark 1:29-39

Both the prophet Job and St Paul write about having had conversations with God but how different is their approach to suffering and to their lot in life – why?

Job has had every calamity and sorrow befall him – he has swiftly lost his wife and daughters, his friends, his fortune and servants, his future earnings, and finally his physical health. Job, therefore, speaks for us, voicing the existential angst that besets us human beings as we’re confronted by the limits of our frail mortality. So, from the depths of his misery and pain, he cries out as we have just heard in today’s first reading: “Is not man’s life on earth nothing more than pressed service, his time no better than hired drudgery?” (7:1) There is, in this passage from the long book of Job, which is worth reading in its entirety, a sense of hopelessness and unremitting anguish. Hence, he exclaims: “my days have passed, and vanished, leaving no hope behind.” (7:6)

As Job continues in this vein, debating and dialoguing with his companions about the meaning of life, thirty-one chapters later, we’re told: “Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind”. (38:1) God’s answer unfolds over four chapters, but it basically reminds Job of God’s wisdom and providence as Creator, as the one who holds all being in existence, and so, it is an invitation to trust in God’s purposes; that man, and even his suffering, has a purpose. Job, with tremendous humility, relents, and he says: “I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know… therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” (42:3b, 6)

After this, God restores Job’s lot in life, and he receives twice as much as he had before the calamities befall him, so all’s well that ends well because he had great trust in God. And so the moral of Job’s life is that we should hold fast and trust in God no matter what comes. However, somehow, this is not all that satisfying. Because, if he’s lost it all once, it can happen again. The resolution is a somewhat naturalistic but worldly happiness of fame, fortune, and long life, but all these human goods are somewhat fragile and can be lost, so there we’re just called to trust that God’s will is being done. All this is a good moral lesson, of course, but I believe there is something more, something true and certain and firm that offers humanity genuine hope where Job has lost hope.

St Paul, on the other hand, has also had his extraordinary share of human misery. As he writes, he’s endured “far greater labours, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death.” (2 Cor 11:23b) He’s been flagellated, beaten, stoned, and shipwrecked several times, and has been in “danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brethren; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure.” (2 Cor 11:26-27)

And yet, he never cries out or complains in the way that Job does; he is never robbed of his hope. On the contrary, he is extremely driven in his mission of preaching the Gospel. As we hear in today’s second reading, St Paul says: “it is a duty which has been laid on me; I should be punished if I did not preach it!… Do you know what my reward is? It is this: in my preaching, to be able to offer the Good News free… I still do this, for the sake of the gospel, to have a share in its blessings.” (1 Cor 9:16, 18, 23)

The difference between Job’s and St Paul’s outlook is rooted in the good news, the Gospel, that was given to St Paul when God spoke with him. So, on the road to Damascus, Paul was blinded by a bright light from heaven, and then he heard the voice of God; Paul encounters the Risen Lord Jesus who says to him: “Rise and stand upon your feet; for I have appeared to you for this purpose, to appoint you to serve and bear witness” to the whole world so that people may “turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.” (Acts 26:16, 18) This, of course, is the essence of what we shall do right after this Homily today, as we baptise one of our young parishioners: we’re turning him from darkness to light; we’re making a public proclamation as a Christian community of our fundamental hope; and we’re setting this child on the road to holiness through faith in God, that is, through friendship with Jesus Christ. For this is, in essence, what it means to become a Christian and this is what baptism entails.

So, the reason why St Paul has hope and possesses a deep abiding joy, over and above the normal earthly happiness of Job, is because he has faith in the Risen Lord Jesus whom he has known intimately. So, Paul believes and hopes to be raised from the dead with Christ, and thus of having the final word, with Jesus, over all the sorrows and pains that life can throw at us. And he has the hope of eternal life in friendship with God the Blessed Trinity, finally victorious, with Christ, over sin and sickness and death. Hence he says: “To this day I have had the help that comes from God, and so I stand here testifying both to small and great, saying nothing but what the prophets and Moses said would come to pass: that the Christ must suffer, and that, by being the first to rise from the dead, he would proclaim light both to the people and to the Gentiles.” (Acts 26:22-23)

St Paul’s response to human suffering and the misery of our current mortal condition, therefore, is that we suffer with Christ whose grace helps us to endure all things, and so, with faith in Christ the Risen Lord, we have the hope of rising also from the dead, and so, of transcending all our current sadness and pain. This is the good news, the Gospel, that St Paul preaches, and that Christians and missionaries and the Church down the ages have spared no pain in preaching. Why? Because it is the light, the hope, that we have always needed in the sorrow and darkness of our human existences. For without the light of the resurrection, then, we have only the cry of Job: “Remember that my life is but a breath, and that my eyes will never again see joy.” (7:7)

But, that is not our cry as Christians. All of us, having died with Christ in Baptism, now share the hope and promise of the resurrection and the joy of eternal life with Christ. Hence, our psalm response is “Praise the Lord who heals the broken-hearted.” For the Lord God knows that we are broken by sin, broken by sickness, broken by death and all the sorrows of this life. So he comes to heal us, but his healing is not a mere temporary restoration like the restoration of Job’s earthly fortunes. No, God heals us by strengthening our humanity, and making us fit for something greater and more lasting than this life: God in Christ comes to raise us up, through grace, to share in divine life, in the life of God himself.

So we get a hint of this in the Gospel today: Christ heals Simon’s mother-in-law, but St Mark doesn’t say this directly. Rather, he says (and I am rendering the Greek text more literally than the translation we’ve just heard): “He went to her, took her by the hand, and raised her up. And the fever left her and she began to serve them.” (Mk 1:31) The Greek word translated as “he raised her up” is the same word used over and over again in the Gospels when Jesus refers to his own resurrection, his being raised up from the dead. So, Christ promises in today’s Gospel account that we shall also, at last, be raised up from our final sickness, which is death, so that we can serve, meaning that we shall become like Jesus Christ himself who came to serve humanity by giving his life for all men and women. Hence the Lord says: “the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mk 10:45)

This, my friends, is the source of our hope as Christians. This is why we need not despair, even when things fall apart in this life. Because, like Job, we can and should trust in God’s wisdom and providence. But, more importantly, like St Paul we place our faith and hope in the Risen Lord Jesus, whose love never fails. Thus St Paul also cries out, not in desperation but with great hope: “I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Amen!

#hope #resurrection #healing #Risen Lord #Job #St Paul #death #sickness #suffering #theodicy

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the-toppat-king · 4 years

Text

Chapter Five: Escape

Charles kept his eyes on the ground as he and the Toppats were escorted to their holding cell.

Henry and the other fellow, Thomas, hadn't said anything more after their capture. Charles had tried to apologize to Henry for getting him into this, but he said nothing. There had been silence a few moments before Thomas had said: "Selective mute. He usually signs, not that I understand it. Been meanin' to learn, though."

A quick threat against Henry's life had silenced him, however, and they had finished the trip in silence. Charles could tell how much Dmitri wanted to kill Henry, to be the one to say "I defeated the Toppat king!", but he couldn't just kill him. He was already on thin ice from the way he ran his prison.

"In ya go. We'll be separating you into different cells soon." Grigori grunted, shoving Charles in. He yelped a bit at the roughness, almost falling before be managed to catch himself. The pilot glared after the guard as he locked the cell and walked away, shouting something in Russian. He glanced at the other person in the room, a red-haired woman with emerald green eyes. She glanced up at them almost curiously, but didn't say anything.

"So, the Toppat Clan. Why?" Charles looked at Thomas, who blinked in surprise.

"Got framed for something I didn't do." He sighed. "I was cellmates with a Toppat, he helped me get out and offered to put in a good word for me. Who was I to turn down a roof over my head and dinner every night?"

"Do you regret it?" Charles frowned.

"Not for a second. We're family there, and my life wouldn't be the same without them." Thomas smiled. "It may not seem it, but we all love each other."

That was surprisingly simple, and Charles could understand that. He couldn't imagine how his life would have ended up if he didn't join the military. "What about Henry? I mean, it hasn't been that long but you guys seemed pretty familiar with him."

"Henry was born into the Clan." Thomas explained. "His father was the leader before Reginald, Terrence Suave. Terrence was a horrible leader, launched raids and heists for the thrill, got people captured, injured and killed and just didn't care about the Clan. Right and Reginald actually took to raising Henry, even more so after his Mother disappeared after a raid. We ended up overthrowing him after soldiers got onto the airship, usually we'd throw leaders like that overboard but..." He sighed. "Well, he was threatening to shoot Reginald in the throat, so that wasn't an option. Well, Henry was just six at the time, and he ended up seeing. Ran away not long after that."

Charles looked over at Henry, who was preoccupied investigating every centimeter of the cell. If he was listening to them talk, he wasn't showing it. "Why do you think he rejoined?"

"Self-preservation, most likely." The Toppat replied. "Why else? It certainly doesn't seem like he had much else if he actually went through with capturing Reginald. I heard you said you were going to pardon him, but if he was famous enough for you to hunt down, who's to say anyone would actually hire him after that?" He paused. "Also, Right is the scariest man alive and Reginald is his husband. That's a death wish right there, no matter who you are."

"I hate that you're right." Charles muttered. "Henry didn't seem have anything else. He was barely getting by by the looks of it. I felt bad for him, even if he is a criminal. No one should have to worry about if they'll be able to have another meal or if they'll have a roof over their head by the time the week ends."

"So we can agree on some things." Thomas laughed a bit. Henry cleared his throat, gesturing up to the vent. "Oh, got an idea, Henry?"

He nodded, glancing at their other cellmate. "Hm?"

She looked at him, brows furrowing. "What?"

"Are you coming?" Thomas asked, walking over to prop Henry up and watching as he wiggled up into the vent. "You might not get another chance."

"I don't have anything else to lose." She shrugged. "The name's Ellie."

"Thomas. That's Henry and, uh..." Thomas looked at Charles.

"Charles Calvin." He gave her a nod. "I was supposed to break in and get evidence so the government can shut this place down for good, but I was caught."

"Government working with Toppats!" Thomas laughed as a ladder descended, Henry peering over the hole at them before disappearing again. "Never thought I'd see the day. I'm not complaining, though. I'll take friends where I can find them."

Charles was the last to climb up, seeing the others freeing themselves by banging the cuffs off a convenient rock.

"Where to next?" Ellie asked as Charles got his cuffs off.

"If we could find a communications room I could call the general." Charles offered.

Thomas and Henry gave him unamused looks.

"Ah, right. Toppats. You could call them...?"

"It'd be too dangerous." Thomas shook his head. Henry tugged on his sleeve, whispering something in his ear. "Oh, that might work."

"What'd he say?"

"He said if we can steal a phone we can try to sneak out and call them once we're a safe distance away." Thomas replied. "They may not be happy to have Charles back on the ship, but maybe we can work something out with the General."

"Like what?" Charles tilted his head.

"Helping you take down the Wall if you leave us alone?" Thomas suggested. "You can't currently pin us to any crimes, anyway. Why not work with us for once?"

"Not sure General Galeforce will agree, but it's worth a shot." Charles smiled as Henry lead the way through the vent. "You know, maybe this won't be so bad!"

__________________________________

Ellie wasn't sure what to think.

She'd heard of the Toppat Clan once or twice, she knew they were some kind of criminal organization. But she didn't know much.

Oh well, she wasn't going to skip out on a chance to escape, and potential protection. She was curious on why they were helping her, though. Maybe they expected her to join them? She guessed it didn't really matter.

What mattered now was getting out.

"What now?" Ellie asked, frowning.

"I saw a truck on our way in. If we can sneak out three of us can hide in the back while the other drives away." Charles pipped up.

"How do we get out there?" Thomas asked.

"What if we started a riot? The guards would be distracted." Ellie offered.

Henry nodded, giving her a thumbs up, before sliding open a vent above them and poking his head out. He gestured Ellie forward, slipping out and creeping near one of the guards. Ellie met his eyes with a nod, and nearly simultaneously the two lunged forward, wrapping an arm around each guard's throat and covering their mouth. "We only have a few minutes to get through before they wake up."

Henry nodded as Charles and Thomas climbed out of the vent. Ellie counted her lucky stars as they headed down the hall, somehow completely unnoticed. Walking up to the glass of the small room in front of them, she peered inside. "If you can get up there, you could drop in and open the door."

"I can do it." Charles offered. "I want to help."

Henry shook his head, pointing to the leg the pilot was limping on. He didn't say or sign anything but the answer was clear: No, not with his leg injured.

"We'll get our chances, Charles." Thomas promised. "But Ellie and Henry aren't wounded. It's best if they do most of the heavy work for now."

He deflated a little bit, and Henry laughed, patting his head before looking at Ellie.

"I don't do this a lot but," she raised her hand. "This is a special circumstance."

The redhead ignored the bewildered stares from Charles and Thomas as she lifted Henry by his throat, without even touching him. Within a few moments he had disappeared over the edge of the wall and was dropping down into the room.

Ellie had no idea what the fuck he ended up doing in there, but the second that door opened, sirens sounded and the doors of the nearby cells opened, too.

The group looked at each other before ducking into a side hallway.

Riot successfully started, time to go!

__________________________________

Thomas leaned against a tree, looking out over the water as the group of four waited for the Toppats to arrive.

They had managed to steal a truck before nearly being run off the road and being forced to flee into the cliffs. Thankfully Thomas had grabbed the phone of one of the guards Ellie and Henry knocked out and called Reginald and Right to come find them.

Needless to say they were more than a little surprised that they'd managed to not only get out, but also start a riot and pick up a new friend, all within two hours.

(Well, Reginald was more than just surprised. Thomas swore that he heard their second in command crying in relief, but it certainly wasn't his place to comment on that.)

He lifted his head as he heard the familiar noise of the airship nearby, watching as a rope ladder was tossed down. He smiled, getting to his feet and extending his hand to Charles. "After you."

The pilot hesitated, looking nervous.

"Don't worry, swear on my honor we won't harm you." He put an arm around his shoulder. "You need your leg and shoulder checked out, I'll be right behind you."

"Promise?" Charles asked, stepping up with a wince.

"Promise." Thomas nodded. "Up you go!"

First Charles started climbing up, Thomas following closely after. Glancing down he saw Henry nudge Ellie up, starting to climb up last.

"There they are!" A shout broke the victorious air around the escapees, a guard pointing to them. "Don't let them get away!"

"Start pulling them up!" Thomas heard Reginald order. "If a single one is dropped, I swear, I will-"

He didn't hear the rest of the threat, yelping and grabbing onto his top hat as a bullet sailed past his head, hitting the rim of his hat. He saw someone pull Charles up to safety before reaching back down for him.

Thomas blessed the stars for the fact that it was harder to hit a target who was suspended in midair and moving. He grunted as he was pulled up next, reaching down to help Ellie up before reaching for Henry.

There was another gunshot, and time seemed to stop.

Henry's eyes widened as the bullet tore through his back, hitting the airship after ripping free of his chest. For a heartbeat there seemed to be no movement before Thomas realized Henry was falling back.

"NO!" Desperately the Toppat lunged forward, only stopped from falling by Ellie grabbing him. Helplessly he watched as Henry fell to the jagged rocks and freezing water at the bottom of the cliff, frozen as the airship pulled away before the guards could hit anyone else.

He glanced back up at the cliff, seeing Dmitri with his arm extended, barrel of his gun still smoking and a semi-satisfied look on his face.

It took a few minutes for the absolute irony of the situation to hit him.

Henry Stickmin, leader of the Toppat Clan, had just survived escaping an absolute death trap of a prison, where no one left unless they were dead.

And now he was gone once again.

Numbly, Thomas got to his feet, realizing Reginald was on his knees next to him, staring blankly at where Henry had fallen. Taking a deep breath, he helped his leader up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders comfortingly.

Neither Toppat said anything, but they didn't really need to.

All they needed was a few minutes.

#Chapters #The Toppat King #Charles Calvin #Thomas Chestershire #Henry Stickmin #Ellie Rose #Reginald Copperbottom #Grigori Olyat #Dmitri Johannes Petrov #Split POV #Charles's POV #Ellie's POV #Thomas's POV

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papermoonloveslucy · 3 years

Text

GRAFIC LUCY

April 26, 1953

On April 26, 1953, Lucille Ball appeared on the cover of the Chicago Sunday Tribune’s Grafic Magazine. Inside, the article is titled “Lucille and Desi. $8,000,000 TV Stars” by Hedda Hopper.

The photo on the cover is very similar to one that also appeared on this 1954 issue of Dell’s “I Love Lucy” comics. It is likely the phots were taken at the same time during the same photo shoot.

By HEDDA HOPPER

LUCILLE BALL, and Desi Arnaz. in their wildest dreams during their upsies and downsies, never imagined that one day they - a couple of strolling players - would be signed to a two-and-a-half year television contract for $8,000,000.

That's a heap of cash in any man's language, and in American money it's like finding the Glory Hole gold mine or stubbing your toe in your own back yard and starting an oil gusher. For actors to sign that kind of contract it's a Disney fantasy come to life.

Lucy has used a lot of gold dust in her hair, but she's certain now that Peter Pan came to life and covered her from head to toe with pixie dust. But, being Lucy, her one comment after signing the fabulous deal with her TV sponsors was: "It couldn't happen to a nicer pair of kids. I mean our two children, of course."

And those kids are as famous as their ma and pa. All over America last January, second in news importance to Ike Eisenhower's inauguration, was the birth of Lucille Ball's baby boy. The interest in the big event was fantastic. Tho they've been kicking around Hollywood for a long time, Lucille and Desi have grown into an American Institution in two years via TV. They've received more than fifty awards; their names have become household words.

I was In Washington for the in inauguration, when Desidero [sp] Arnaz was born.

I’d like to straighten out one point. Lucy didn't have her baby by caesarean to please her sponsors. The operation was necessary. She had her first child by the same process, and since the caesarean operation could be set for a definite date, the birth was worked into the script of the show. The writers took full advantage of it. Since the show deals with an average couple, the pre-natal period reflected that of millions who have, or were having, babies. And to make sure that nothing in poor taste crept in, the Amazes had a Catholic priest a Jewish rabbi, and a Protestant minister check each script.

Lucy wanted a boy, and her doctor told her she'd have one. "I didn't pay any attention to his prediction," says Lucy. "He told me my first baby would be a boy, too. So I had a girl."

Their show sticks to real life situations and mirrors the trials, tribulations, and fun of marriages enjoyed by millions of average men and women.

Desi credits the success of the show to that fact "Its an average love story with humor," he explains. "Audiences believe I'm in love with Lucy, and I am. Lucy ' could be a straight dramatic show. In fact, I think there's no really good comedy that couldn't be turned into drama. I believe the average man gets a kick out of Ricky (the name he uses on the show), because he somehow always manages to dominate the woman, tho the victory is not great. Women love Lucy since she gets by with things they'd like to do, but wouldn't dare try."

A fan wrote Desi: "I used to think my wife was crazy. But after following Lucy, I'm convinced all women are that way, so I'm reconciled to my wife's behavior."

Desi is proud of the fact that he and Lucy help many couples in distress. “Lucille and I used to fight a lot," says he. "Then we discovered a sense of humor about situations that came up at home. We learned to live together and like it just as Ricky and Lucy do on the show. In real life, we still have our differences, but we never go to bed without speaking. We may have a peeve between us, but one of us will always say, 'All right What are you mad about? ' That either settles It or starts a real battle, which gets the beef off our chests."

I wanted to know how much Lucy and Ricky resembled the real life Amazes.

"A lot" Desi laughed. "For example, we can never agree on the temperature of our home. I like it hot Lucy wants it cold. We put that In the show. For television the characters have to be exaggerated for the sake of comedy. But sometimes situations come up at home that give our writers ideas. For instance, our baby. Writing him into the script was completely natural. We knew what happened to couples expecting a baby."

“It was the first nine-months' pregnancy that lasted only seven weeks," said Lucy, meaning that the baby business was only on seven programs.

“And neither of our writers, Madeline Pugh and Bob Carroll Jr., is married," said Desi.

"But they know whereof they write," said Lucy. "Within three weeks after the baby was born, we received 20,000 letters, 2,000 telegrams, and hundreds of packages.”

"How many products do you indorse?" [sp] I asked.

"It's easier to tell you what we haven't indorsed, [sp]" said Lucy. "We haven't indorsed [sp] locomotives or aircraft. We have art office now on 5th Avenue in New York just to handle merchandising."

I asked how much money they could keep from their $8,000,000 contract.

"About four dollars and fifty-five cents," said Desi. "In the dear old days before taxes we could have retired for life In one year. But the government needs money. We're not complaining. Lucy doesn't have much business sense anyway. When it comes time to pay taxes, she doesn't bother trying to get exemptions. She just says, 'Bring me the check, and I'll sign it.'

"And you're still expanding instead of cutting down?" I asked.

"Yes," said Desi. "I put in 10 hours daily at my office."

"I don't bother with business," said Lucy. “That's Desi's department."

“We've got over a hundred people working for us now," said Desi. "We'll do 32 television films a year, and I'm getting a man to take over the business management so I can devote more time to the creative phase of our work. We. plan to produce other shows. Then there are pictures."

"I'm happy you two are going to make 'The Long, Long Trailer,' " I said.

"That," said Desi, "is a dream. I read the book and tried to buy it But I didn't have the money to compete with Metro. So Pandro Berman called me up and asked if Lucy and I would be interested in reading the script I told him sure, to send it over. And It was 'Long, Long Trailer.”

"It's a honey," added Lucy. "I once lived with my family in a trailer. It was all right until we all got claustrophobia. That's bad enough when you get it alone, but when it hits a whole family at the same time whew!"

"We can make pictures any time we like," said Desi "But we'll concentrate on television. But if either Lucy or I wants to do a movie, we can always pile up a backlog of TV films that will tide us over."

"I'm not particularly interested in going back to movies," said Lucy. "TV is my dish. We don't see a script at least I don't until 10 o'clock Monday morning. On Tuesday, we read from 10 to 12, then lunch. After that we start shooting. The writers usually aren't even on the set If I don't understand something, either the producer, Jess Oppenheimer, or our director, Bill Asher, explains it to me. We work four days and rest three. You cant do that in picture-making.”

"Incidentally, Desi's malapropisms aren't written into the script. The script is written in straight English. But If Desi butchers the King's English during a rehearsal, it stays in."

"Bill Frawley and Vivian Vance are wonderful additions to your cast," I said.

"We were lucky to get them," said Lucy. "When Bill's name was mentioned, I almost dropped dead. He was a big star and we couldn't afford him. But somebody said it wouldn't hurt to try to get him. Remember this was two years ago; and everybody here was scoffing at TV. Nobody knew."

People didn't know many things. For years I've watched Lucy's work and considered her one of our finest comediennes. She has versatility and great timing. But nobody gave her break. Tho he'd done several pictures, Hollywood just couldn't see Desi for dust. He had to make a living with his band, and this put him on the road for long periods. Result: "I Love Lucy."

"When we got the idea for the show, people said audiences wouldn't accept us as husband-and-wife team," said Lucy. "They didn't think audiences would believe that a girl like me and a Cuban like Desi could be married. I remember telling you this, Hedda, and you yelled back, 'But for Pete's sake, you' are married!'".

Because the Amazes finally decided to portray life as they found It regardless of how dizzy it was, they found their way of life, says Lucy. "If you have a hunch, back it," is Lucy's advice.

The headline of April 26, 1953.

#Chicago Tribune #Hedda Hopper #Lucille Ball #I Love Lucy #Desilu #Grafic Magazine #TV #1953

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ironfidus · 4 years

Text

grief (is a freight train)

Angsty post-Endgame Iron Dad one-shot.

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty).

———

Summary:

In the wake of Thanos’s defeat, the entire world celebrates the return of their loved ones. But there are some who do not celebrate at all.

The years pass, and still there are some who cry instead of smile, when they remember the day Thanos died. The day Tony Stark gave his life.

(Everyone mourns Tony Stark. But none as much as the people who knew him as more than just a hero.)

———

Every year, the world rejoices, flocking to the streets to celebrate a world rid of Thanos, a world full of all the people once lost in the Decimation.

Every year, the world takes a moment to be grateful for its fortunes.

And every year, there are some who don’t. There are some who grieve, who see the day as a curse instead of a blessing.

Every year, there are some who gaze upon the larger-than-life monument of Iron Man with sadness instead of gratitude.

Because every year, the world remembers Tony Stark as Iron Man, their hero, the man they have to thank for bringing back the ones they love. His family remembers him as more.

(Pepper remembers the man with the tired eyes and the unfaltering resilience; she remembers the man who fought so hard for a world of people who, before realizing he was responsible for reversing their nightmare, would have mercilessly judged him every chance they had.)

(Morgan remembers the warmth, the love, the selflessness. She remembers calloused hands running through her hair, holding her up, tucking her into bed.

She remembers the father who let her eat juice pops even after she already brushed her teeth, who told her bedtime stories and kissed her goodnight every night without fail, who whispered I love you 3000, kiddo to her from beyond the grave.)

(Peter remembers the constant check-ins, the hourly snacks to accommodate his enhanced metabolism, the upgrades to his suit that kept Spider-Man even more protected than Iron Man.

He remembers the genius who sat patiently with him as they worked through his pre-calc worksheets together, never once complaining even though they doubtlessly bored him to tears. He remembers the mentor who helped him grow into the superhero he is today.

He remembers the fighter who bore the weight of the world without protest, who gave everything for nothing, who cared too much but was too afraid to show it.)

(Rhodey remembers the witty kid with a thousand ingenious ideas who showed up in his dorm room, the all-nighters driven by cans of disgusting energy drinks and stacks of pizza boxes, the frat parties and drunk stories spilling through loose lips.

He remembers the kindness and selfless generosity his best friend hid beneath a veil of biting sarcasm and snide remarks. He remembers every dollar Tony threw around in an attempt to rid himself of his misplaced guilt, the list of charities he was knee-deep in growing by the week.)

(Happy remembers Tony’s patience, his compassionate hazelnut eyes, his supply of second chances. He remembers his boss and friend’s sense of humor, and all of the times Tony laughed at or with him.

He remembers Tony’s trusting side. He remembers what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that trust. He remembers thinking he never wanted to break it. He also remembers thinking, shoulder-to-shoulder with Rhodey at Tony Stark’s funeral, that he’d failed.)

And when everyone else smiles to think of the day Thanos was bested, they don’t.

Pepper enfolds Morgan in her arms, holding her little girl tightly as the sun rises on another day without their missing family member, and prays that they won’t have to lose each other, too.

Peter locks himself in his room and desperately clutches his mask to his chest as he listens to KAREN play recordings of Mr. Stark over and over again, pretending he can’t feel the tears spilling over onto his cheeks.

Rhodey stares blearily down at his certificate of graduation from MIT and imagines a world where Tony Stark wasn’t his roommate. When he can’t, coming up short, he drinks himself into oblivion.

Happy finds himself at his (and Tony’s) favorite gym and wears himself out in the ring, throwing himself at contender after contender, none of them Tony.

:::

Seven months after Tony Stark dies, Peter stumbles across the framed photograph of him and Tony grinning at each other, an upside-down certificate held between them. It’s sitting there on Tony’s desk for all to see.

Lying innocently next to the photo, so unaware of its own implications, is the blueprints for the time machine.

Peter’s heart stutters in his chest. Eyes transfixed on his mentor’s smile, he feels himself fall, fall, fall—

(“Why?” he remembers asking Pepper months ago, after Tony’s funeral. “Why did he do it? Why did he have to die for – for a world that never even truly appreciated him?”

Pepper freezes, her fierce stare fracturing for a brief moment, falling apart to reveal the tears that seem so natural to her now.

She smiles sadly at him, shakes her head, and tells him not to worry about it.)

It was for him, Peter realizes now. All for him.

He’s the reason Tony Stark is dead. He’s why Pepper cries herself to sleep these days; why Rhodey no longer has his best friend; why Happy often stares off into the distance like he’s remembering every “Forehead of Security” joke Tony teasingly made at his expense; why Morgan lost her father.

He did this. He killed Tony Stark.

For the first time in almost a month (a record, Peter, May pointed out earlier that morning, lips smiling but eyes sad, so sad, let’s aim for the small victories), Peter braces himself against reality and cries.

:::

It takes him weeks to muster the courage to confront Pepper about it. In the end, it doesn’t matter because she finds him first, sitting with Dum-E in her and Tony’s garage, looking down at the photo cradled in his hands with red, dry eyes.

“Oh, Peter,” she whispers. “Put the photo down, kid. Don’t do this to yourself.”

He looks up at her and sees a woman who’s lost everything. His eyes drag to the ring on her finger and flinches; she might still be wearing the ring, but she’s a widow now—because of him.

Pepper must realize where his thoughts are spiraling to because she shakes her head firmly, tears splattering onto the concrete floor of her garage. “Stop it, Peter,” she begs. “I had to watch Tony go down this road, too. Don’t make me do it again.”

“He did this for me,” Peter whispers before he can stop himself. “He – he had you and Morgan. He had the life he’s always dreamed of, but he risked all of that. For me. Why?”

Pepper’s face is painted in grief, and Tony’s death is the artist. (Peter is the artist, because this is his fault, he thinks. His.) “He wanted you to have the chance to fight for the life you deserve,” she whispers hoarsely. “This,”—she sweeps her arms around herself, a gesture to encompass everything he now has—“this is the life you deserve.”

The photograph clatters to the floor, falling out of Peter’s shaking hands.

He knows she means the fact that he is alive at all. He knows she‘s talking about all the extra time he and Aunt May have together, about Ned and MJ and him banding together as the inseparable Three Musketeers once again, about all the reasons he has to smile nowadays—

“Live it, Peter,” Pepper’s voice is soft, a broken plea. “Tony can’t anymore, but you still can. So fight, Peter. Live. Make him proud.”

—But when he looks at his life now, when he takes stock of everything that is a part of Pepper’s all-inclusive “this”, all he sees is Mr. Stark’s absence.

:::

When Peter gets home that night, he thinks of Pepper’s words and considers it. He even manages to imagine it—living the peaceful life Mr. Stark would have wanted for him, full of joy and laughter, full of eating Thai with Aunt May and watching Star Wars reruns with Ned and debating politics with MJ.

But at the same time, it seems impossible. He can’t truly see himself reclaiming that life anymore—a part of him knows it’s because the old him died with his hero.

Happiness is miles away from him, a faraway dream.

But for so many people in the world, it isn’t just a dream. Thanos has been defeated, and the people lost in the Snap have been returned. Millions of people have gained their loved ones back.

And he knows better than ever now how fickle life is.

Peter looks through his bedroom window, peering out at his neighborhood, and knows that the streets of Queens are as rife with crime as ever. There are girls and boys everywhere staring out the windows just as he is, wondering where their mothers are, wondering when their fathers will come home to them.

Mr. Stark is gone, but other kids still have their parents. (For now.)

Peter’s lost his mentor, but that doesn’t mean anyone else should have to lose their own families. That doesn’t mean he’s allowed to use that as an excuse and wither away, hiding from all of the screams for help.

:::

Eight months after Tony Stark dies, Peter Parker shakily lifts himself up to his feet, wipes away his tears and dusts off his pants, and finally lets his eyes fall onto his Spider-Man suit.

For the first time in eight months, he doesn’t recoil away from it.

And finally, finally, finally—Queens’ beloved hero returns.

:::

For a while, Peter loses himself in his crime-fighting. He takes down criminal after criminal and pretends he can’t hear the worry in Pepper’s voice when she calls to check in every few days, or the wistful longing in Happy’s voice when Peter admits he’s finally taking up the mantle of the mask again, or the sob caught in Aunt May’s throat when she asks after his injuries every night.

He pretends he doesn’t hear Mr. Stark all the time, a ghost chiding him for his recklessness, pointing out every gang fight, and cautioning him against all of the gun-wielding muggers.

And for a while, it works.

:::

Things get better. They get better—until they don’t.

:::

It goes like this.

Peter’s lost in his thoughts, walking absentmindedly down the sidewalk with his fists in his pockets and his head in the clouds, when all of a sudden a man crashes into him. Peter yelps, yanking his earbuds out of his ears, eyes wide as he stares at the dark pool of hot coffee spreading across his t-shirt. He doesn’t even register the pain until the stranger curses and apologizes profusely, his own hand red where the coffee spilled over his paper cup and scorched his skin.

Peter doesn’t hear him.

He can’t hear anyone but Tony, laughing hysterically at him when Peter trips over an errant wire and takes Tony’s coffee down with him. He can’t see anyone but Tony, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and waving for Dum-E to “clean him up, buddy.”

It’s not real.

Peter knows it’s not real.

But that doesn’t stop him from wishing it is.

:::

It goes like this.

Peter’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of MJ’s hostel room, his Decathlon teammates gathered around him in a messy semi-circle. MJ’s flicking through her flashcards, calling on them one by one and helping them revise for their competition tomorrow as the murmur of the television hums in the background.

For the first time in a while, Peter feels grounded in the present in this cramped hostel room, with his friends surrounding him and the room’s one light cheaply flickering on and off above them.

But nothing good lasts forever. Peter should know that by now.

Because twenty minutes into their study session, Charles looks up at the TV in awe, whispering something about a new hero, about how “he’s like Iron Man and Thor rolled into one,” and—

Iron Man Iron Man Iron Man –

—Peter’s world comes crashing down around him for what must be the umpteenth time.

:::

It goes like this.

Peter’s at his first Thanksgiving dinner without Mr. Stark when it hits him.

They’ve been going around the table, giving each person a few moments to utter their gratitudes:

I’m thankful we can all be together again, like this.

I’m thankful I got to celebrate my son’s birthday last week. I’m thankful he’s alive to grow older.

I’m thankful for this team we can all count on to have each other’s backs.

I’m thankful for all of you.

He has no idea what to say.

A part of him knows, objectively, that there’s a lot to be thankful for—he’s alive. So is his aunt, his best friend, his classmates.

But looking beside him at little Morgan, knowing she will never get to have another Thanksgiving with her father, realizing she’ll hardly even remember his face come a few years’ time...

What is there to be thankful for?

The world thinks they’ve won. Peter sees Morgan, fatherless at four years old, and asks how victory can taste so much like defeat.

:::

It goes like this.

He’s building LEGOs with Ned, listening to his best friend ramble about how Betty agreed to go on a date with him when Ned accidentally knocks over one of the Millennium Falcon’s laser cannons. The section lands on the floor with a loud crash as it breaks apart into its individual components, black and grey and white LEGO pieces bouncing away and rolling under his bed.

Ned cuts off his endless chatter with a sheepish apology, but Peter just laughs and shakes his head, dropping to his knees and feeling blindly for the LEGO pieces. Eventually he gives up, tugs out his phone with a groan, and shines a flashlight into the darkness.

The light from his phone casts a bright glow over the scattered LEGO pieces.

It also lights up the plastic Iron Man mask he’d cherished as a little boy.

Peter’s heart stops. His phone falls out of his grip, crashing to the floor with a thud.

When Ned asks him what’s wrong, it takes every ounce of self-control he has to stop himself from saying: “Everything.”

:::

It goes like this.

Peter turns eighteen. Mr. Stark isn’t there to see it.

:::

It goes like this.

Peter walks into a bookstore with Ned at his heels, both keeping their eyes peeled for the type of book MJ might appreciate as a gift.

He scans title upon title upon title, but in the end it isn’t a novel that makes him stop in his tracks, his heart lurching into his throat. It’s a little girl in the comics and magazines section, making animated gestures to her big brother, who smiles and nods indulgently at her, reaching up and picking out the book she‘s been indicating.

It’s an Iron Man comic book.

For a second—just a second—as he watches the little girl hold the comic book close to her heart—as he sees the effect Iron Man still has on the people who hold him up as their hero—Peter lets himself imagine Mr. Stark is still here.

(Peter wishes he could call his mentor up right now; wishes he could let Mr. Stark know that it is Iron Man who managed to bring a smile that wide to her face.)

But Mr. Stark isn’t. He’s never going to be here again.

Peter stumbles away from Ned and his friend’s excited babble of “look, she’s going to love this one,” and locks himself in the nearest restroom, collapsing against the toilet bowl and throwing up.

:::

It goes like this.

Happy is the one who ends up teaching Peter to drive. When they both finally manage to convince themselves to go through with it, Happy pretends he can’t see the way Peter’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel.

Peter pretends he can’t see the way Happy shoves on a pair of sunglasses halfway through the lesson, his choked voice the only sign that betrays his anguish.

The whole time, Peter remembers a far-off past, Mr. Stark’s eyes twinkling at him as he swears he’ll let Peter test-drive all of his favorite cars as soon as it’s legal (and maybe even before then, as long as you’re with me the entire time, alright?).

:::

It goes like this.

It only takes Morgan three weeks to get attached to Peter and start calling him her “big brother.”

It takes her eleven more months after that to tell him, “I love you 3000, Petey.”

He doesn’t have to look around the room to know that Pepper and Rhodey and Happy are all freezing in place, staring at Morgan with the thought of Tony in their eyes.

He feels the same way. He swallows down a sob, cradles Morgan to his chest, and brushes a soft kiss to her forehead. His mind chants Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark like a prayer as he whispers, “I love you 3000, Maguna.”

Morgan smiles innocently up at him. Peter silences the sound of his heart breaking before Morgan can hear it.

:::

It goes like this.

He and May are in the middle of having a quiet dinner in—the first in months, with May getting busier and busier at work and with him avoiding everyone he cares about in his grief—when he finally hears back from MIT.

May ends up opening the sealed envelope for him when she sees how much his hands are shaking. She takes one look at the letter and screams in delight, wrapping him up in a hug so tight he can feel it in his bones.

She lets him go eventually, eyes bright and full of joy, and Peter snatches the letter off the table. He knows what it must be, given May’s sheer enthusiasm, but—

He stares at the acceptance letter in disbelief, barely hearing May’s giddy laughter.

He got in.

He should be happy. He should be thrilled. He should be jumping up and down out of sheer excitement.

MIT was his dream, after all. Still is, beneath all the misery.

For some reason, he isn’t. Instead of a smile, it’s tears that grace his face as Peter presses a trembling hand to his mouth, silent sobs rattling his body.

(If he’s honest with himself, he knows the reason.

MIT is Mr. Stark’s alma mater. For months before the end of the world, Mr. Stark sent Peter brochure after brochure advertising MIT. When Peter asked, Mr. Stark’s only response was to wink cheekily.

Mr. Stark isn’t here for him to ask anymore.)

(MIT wasn’t just his dream for himself. It was their dream, his and Mr. Stark’s. It feels wrong, somehow, to hold this letter that contains some of Mr. Stark’s greatest hopes and aspirations for him, in a world where Mr. Stark can’t see it. It feels like betrayal.)

:::

It goes like this.

Peter’s shaking his principal’s hand, looking at the certificate proving his graduation dazedly, when he makes the mistake of looking up at the audience. He catches a glimpse of Aunt May beaming at him proudly, of Pepper and Morgan grinning beside her, of the assortment of colorful heroes decorating the front row.

His eyes zero in on the empty chair beside Morgan, with only a tiny Iron Man toy figurine sitting atop it.

His heart plummets to his feet. Blood roars in his ears, deafening him to everything but Mr. Stark’s first words to him, a lifetime ago—“Nice work, kid.”

:::

It goes like this.

Father’s Day arrives. Peter wakes up with an itch in the back of his mind, picks up his phone, and then nearly drops it when his eyes immediately dart to the date.

Mr. Stark.

Peter swallows down the memory of the first Father’s Day he showed up at Mr. Stark’s lab, a sheepish grin on his face and a clumsily-wrapped present in hand.

Today… today, though, he has to remind himself firmly, It’s just another day.

But it isn’t, and he knows it.

Because ever since that first time, all of his following Father’s Days had turned into movie nights with Mr. Stark, the two of them armed with an abundance of popcorn and soda and ice cream.

This year, there’s no text reading ready for another movie marathon, kid? on his phone. There’s no one to pick up when he instinctively calls Mr. Stark, a cheerful Happy Father’s Day, Mr. Dad! burning on the tip of his tongue. There’s no friendly reminder from KAREN that Mr. Stark’s waiting for him in his home theater.

(There’s just an empty lock screen, his and Mr. Stark’s mischievous grins beaming up at him from his phone wallpaper.

There’s just his mentor’s haunting snarky voice and the familiar voicemail greeting of “You know who I am, and I’m assuming you know what to do, or you really shouldn’t be allowed to operate a phone in this day and age,” that leaves his ears ringing and lungs heaving and eyes stinging for almost an hour afterwards.

There’s just a quiet You have no new messages, Peter, when he finally manages to yank his suit on and pull the mask down his face, only to press frantically at the spider emblem on his chest and take it all off again, his stomach rolling with nausea.)

This year, Peter spends Father’s Day in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, eyes dry but still aching.

(This year, Peter spends Father’s Day alone.)

Except he doesn’t.

Hours later, the Starks (missing one member, always missing one member) show up at his and May’s apartment, a watery smile on Pepper’s face and a subdued hey, Petey coming from Morgan. They’re each holding a bouquet of hydrangeas.

As soon as she’s close enough, Pepper offers him her bouquet, her smile stretching an inch wider. “You were his kid, too, no matter what your DNA says,” she whispers, and her voice is hoarse, like she’s spent all morning crying into her pillow.

(At least, that’s what Peter’s been doing before they came.)

Peter opens his mouth to protest, but all it takes is one look at Morgan’s red-rimmed eyes and Peter knows he can’t say no.

“Okay,” he breathes, even as he thinks thank you, even as he tries not to break down.

(He fails.)

(That Father’s Day marks the beginning of a new tradition—one he dreads instead of looks forward to.

These days he spends every Father’s Day in a clearing in the forest that fringes the Starks’ lakehouse, holding Morgan’s tiny hand tightly in his own as she weeps into her father’s headstone.)

:::

It goes like this.

He’s sitting through a lecture at MIT when his professor quotes Mr. Stark.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He isn’t surprised. Anthony Edward Stark is a genius, after all, and this is a physics class.

Still, it takes him back to the lab, to Tony Stark standing across him and giving him advice. He hears himself huff in annoyance and remind Mr. Stark that he’s hardly in a position to caution Peter about lab safety given his own infamous recklessness.

He strains to hear Mr. Stark’s response—strains to listen to his mentor tell him that the rules only applied to smart-but-stupid Spider-Kids with a penchant for self-sacrifice.

But the words never come. In a flash, Peter’s back in Professor Johnson’s classroom, sitting in a cheap, uncomfortable chair that’s too stiff and nothing at all like the plush rolling chairs in Mr. Stark’s lab.

The rest of the world continues to spin on its axis, his professor continues to drone on and on about electromagnetism, and his classmates continue to whisper conspicuously amongst each other, but Peter’s world came to a standstill long ago.

The moment passes, but the breathless feeling never fades. Tony Stark’s perfected ‘Mentor Knows Best’ stare drilling into the back of his head, Peter struggles to inhale, exhale, in, out as despair strangles him, crushing his throat in a vice grip.

:::

It goes like this.

The first time he visits back home from MIT, Pepper asks him to take over as Head of R&D at Stark Industries.

He feels the color drain from his face.

She reassures him that he won’t have to drop out of MIT, that he’ll be able to dedicate most of his time to his education, that he’ll only have to put in a few hours and chip in a few ideas every so often.

She tells him she knows he’ll succeed.

Peter doesn’t bother correcting her. He doesn’t say that that isn’t what he’s worried about.

He doesn’t say that even though he knows it’s been ages, he still can’t fathom someone else taking up the mantle of his mentor’s job, even if it’s him. (Maybe especially if it’s him.)

He doesn’t say that he wishes no one would ever have to replace Tony Stark, in any and every capacity.

Instead, he forces himself to breathe and tells her he’ll do it.

:::

It goes like this.

Morgan grows up. She becomes a teenager, smart and gorgeous and full of life.

Eventually, she meets someone. Tony isn’t there to greet her date with a firm shake of the hand and a piercing, intimidating stare the first time she brings him home.

Peter is.

Pepper thanks him when the night is over. Peter lets her hug him, and realizes with sudden, startling clarity that Morgan won’t have her father to walk her down the aisle one day.

The thought drives him to his knees, trembling, gasping, convulsing—

—breaking.

:::

It goes like this.

Peter is older now. He’s not the snot-nosed little kid who just lost his mentor (father figure) anymore.

He goes to sleep smiling, heart full and content. He’s so sure he’s turning around, starting on a new path—beginning to well and truly heal.

Except—

Except.

He wakes up screaming, hands fisted in his sheets, tears already burning his eyes, and Mr. Stark’s dying, unseeing gaze is all he can see.

:::

So things get better, until they don’t.

Even years after Tony’s death, Peter finds his grief violently, all-consumingly unpredictable.

Some days, it no longer hurts to breathe in a world without his hero.

Other days, it does hurt.

Other days, it takes next to nothing—a stray word, a picture in the news, a laugh that sounds too much like long days in the lab—to send Peter careening back into the past, into a time when he could simply take out his phone and text Mr. Stark about anything and everything—science fairs, birthdays, Decathlon competitions, cute dogs he ran into at the park.

Other days, it seems like anything can drown Peter, thrusting him back into the midst of his grief, a maelstrom of horror and shock and anger and misery ripping him apart.

Other days, the littlest, most random thing can set him off, hitting him like a punch in the gut. (You’re terrible at this, Underoos. Who in the world taught you to fight—wait, no, don’t tell me. Was it Youtube? I bet you learned to fight from Youtube. Can’t even take a punch like you mean it, god. That’s it, I’m taking over—you and me, in the gym, 5:00 A.M. sharp. I’m just kidding, kid, stop looking at me like that. Of course I don’t actually mean 5:00. I mean, look who you’re talking to. God knows I can’t function before ten without at least two cups of coffee. Preferably three. I don’t even want to think about how many coffees I’d need to down if I wanted to be useful at the ass crack of dawn—Pepper would kill me, literally, and convince FRIDAY to help hide the body. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Training. Let’s sat a date for 11:00 A.M. and call it a day, yeah?)

Other days, Peter fears he will never recover.

:::

The rest of the world moves on.

Peter Parker can’t.

#iron dad #peter parker and tony stark #post-endgame #fanfiction #marvel #spiderman #ironman #irondad and spiderson #iron dad fanfiction #iron family #irondad angst #marvel fanfiction #faye writes

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palendromicdragonrider · 5 years

Text

Turn Back the Hands - Part 1

Claude sat on his bed, carefully going over each elegant letter of the four-word note in his hands. The note that had been slid under his door in the middle of the night. That he had nearly passed over as another discarded page of his own hand. That he only took notice of due to the sharp edges with which it had been carefully folded, more carefully than Claude himself would have ever attempted.

I’ll fucking kill you.

It’s just a prank, Claude wanted to tell himself. Something to rile him up, probably from one of the students in the Black Eagle house. They were certainly more uptight than usual, ever since the Golden Deer won the mock battle last month. Especially Edelgard, who was so certain that the Black Eagles were going to be unbeatable. Claude nearly smirked to himself, thinking of the look on her face when Jeralt announced the Golden Deer as the winners. Her eyes had appeared ready to burst into flames.

Of course, it had little to do with the Golden Deer’s own might. Had Byleth not chosen to lead them, there was no way they would have won the mock battle. They would have put up a fight, sure, but their victory could only be credited to their teacher who guided the battle. Claude shoved the note in his pocket and sighed. He still had no idea why Byleth had chosen to lead their house. The Black Eagles were far more noble, and even the Blue Lions had an unwavering sense of duty and morality that Claude had to admire. The Golden Deer were a mess in comparison to the other two houses. Claude could hardly keep the group in line before Byleth showed up. Especially when Lorenz was present. The thought of him made Claude frown. He could not understand what that guy’s problem was. Sure, Claude was a surprise heir that undermined Lorenz’s position, but that wasn’t Claude’s fault. It didn’t help matters that Lorenz was also a total douchebag.

The bell tolled the hour of the morning, pulling Claude out of his musings. “Shit,” he said to himself. He was late. Claude leapt from his bed and opened his door. Halfway down the hall, he had to turn around and go back. He nearly forgot his bow. “Shit shit shit!” he muttered the whole way out of the dorms.

The morning was bright and the air was crisp with the remnants of spring. Students and monastery staff alike stared at Claude as he rushed past. “You’re la-ate,” a girl said in a sing-songy voice to him. Claude beamed at the girl in a way that he hoped was interpreted as playful.

“Gotta keep ‘em on edge!” he replied with a wink. The girl and her friend giggled at him, but his back was already facing them. Claude wondered absently how the girl recognized him. Maybe she was also in the Golden Deer house. There were easily a hundred students attending the monastery, but Claude often only interacted with the ones in his group for monthly missions: Hilda, Lorenz, Ignatz, Raphael, Lysithea, Leonie, and Marianne. None of whom he knew particularly well. Growing up in another nation put him at a disadvantage in the friends department. Claude sighed, thinking not for the first time that he would have preferred an easier first mission together. The Blue Lions were on weapon inventory, and the Black Eagles were helping a neighboring town with a mild land dispute. It wasn’t that Claude wanted to shirk the work—despite what other people thought of him, Claude considered himself a hard worker when given the right motivation—but he really wanted the time to get to know his classmates. He was never going to succeed as a ruler if he could not even govern seven other students. He shook the thought. He had to hurry. For once, his tardiness actually mattered, but thankfully the monastery was not too big. He ran faster.

“What a surprise,” Lorenz called as he caught sight of Claude. “Leave it to our illustrious future leader to be late on the eve of battle. I nearly expected you to hide in your room while we fought for you.”

“And good morning to you too, Lorenz,” Claude said, his grin more forced than it was before. He stopped in front of the massive wooden gates that led outside of the school’s grounds, panting slightly. Most of his classmates averted their eyes. Save for Lysithea, none of them liked to get involved in the conflict between Lorenz and Claude. Hell, even Claude did not like to get involved in the conflict between Lorenz and Claude. He thought about the note crumpled in his pocket. Maybe it was from Lorenz. . .

“Oh, leave him alone,” Lysithea said, her tone sounding almost bored. “The bell rang no more than five minutes ago. Hilda is not here yet either, not that anyone should be surprised by that.”

“I tried to wake her up this morning,” Marianne squeaked. “But she was sleeping so soundly—“

“It doesn’t matter whether she shows up on time—or even shows up at all!” Lorenz interrupted. “She is not heir to the throne—“

“Technically, Claude is not heir to a throne, either. I think you’ve been hanging out with Ferdinand too often,” Leonie corrected him. Claude tried not to smile. Lorenz hated being corrected, especially by a commoner. The idea that anyone not of noble blood could know anything besides their own name was a shock to Lorenz. The thought sobered Claude’s mood again. Lorenz’s behavior was only another reminder of why he was not fit to rule.

“You know what I mean!” Lorenz huffed. He opened his mouth as if to continue, then clamped it shut again as something caught his eye. The rest of the students looked in the same direction. Byleth approached the group, as stoic and unreadable as ever. Despite only being a few years older than them, Byleth held an authority and wisdom that was unmatched by most adults two or three times her age. Even Lorenz appeared bashful in her presence.

“Good morning, class,” she said in a low, even voice.

“Good morning, professor,” the students replied.

“Morning, Teach!” Claude beamed. Lorenz rolled his eyes.

“Where is Hilda?” Byleth asked, not missing a beat.

“Sleeping, probably,” Leonie answered flatly, her arms crossed over her chest. Byleth frowned.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I could have sworn I saw her at breakfast—“

“You did!” A voice beamed from the other side of the gate. Hilda approached the circle. “I had a feeling that you guys would expect me to sleep in. Which honestly, is so unfair. I may not be the most excited soldier ever, but I know how to prioritize. Anyway, so I woke up this morning—“

“Why don’t you tell us on the road?” Byleth asked. “The bandits are not going to subdue themselves, and we have a good day’s journey ahead of us.”

“Of course, professor,” Hilda said with a hop, straightening her back.

“Everyone, get to your horses. I intend to be out that gate in ten minutes. We will review the details of our mission when we take our evening stop.”

The students all hastened to their horses, fastening saddle bags and checking their weapons. Claude lazily approached his own mare. He packed light, so there was little to check. Once his bags and bow were secured to his content, Claude mounted the mare and pat her shaggy neck. A nagging sensation told him he was being watched. Claude looked up, meeting eyes with Byleth. She was already on her mount, dressed in armor rather than her usual teaching uniform. Claude realized he had not seen her dressed as she was since the night he met her. The night she saved his life. The thought of seeing her in a true battle again excited him. Never in his life had he encountered such an expert with a sword. Claude knew he had much to learn from her, on and off the battlefield. Dare he admit it, but he admired her. He only wished he knew what it was that she saw in him as a student.

Byleth prodded her horse gently so it would walk up alongside Claude’s mare. “How are you today?” she asked him.

“As fine as every day, Teach,” Claude replied, putting on the same smile that he had used on the two girls on his way to the gates. Byleth’s expression did not change.

“Are you ready for this mission?” she asked.

“Of course I am! I’m actually rather excited. I hardly got a taste of battle the last time I was out in the field.” And you barely let me fight at all during the mock battle, he thought, but did not say.

“Experience can only take you so far, if your mind is on other things,” Byleth replied. Claude frowned, feeling as if the note in his pocket would burn a hole in the fabric. He hated feeling like an open book.

“Teach, I’m offended!” he said, trying to keep his tone playful. “My mind is only on keeping my classmates safe, and making a good impression on you.”

Something about that almost made Byleth smile. Almost. If Claude had not seen her eyes crinkle for an instant, he would have missed it altogether. “You don’t need to worry about impressing me,” Byleth said. She turned the horse away before Claude could reply. “If everyone is ready, let’s move out!”

They stopped to make camp at the base of Zanado just before the sun set. Each of the students set up tents in a circle, boys on one side and girls on the other, with hired battalions and the knights of Seiros surrounding them for protection. Mission or no mission, they were still students. Still kids. It would not go well if Byleth returned to the monastery without everyone intact.

Lorenz complained about having to pitch his own tent. Claude did his best to ignore him. The other two boys in their class were commoners, sons of merchant families, so they were far more used to this kind of travel. Leonie herself had her tent up before everyone else. Claude vaguely remembered her saying that she used to hunt with her father. Despite her low birth, Claude realized she was probably the most-qualified student for the upcoming battle. She was probably the only one who had experience making a kill.

Well, her and Claude. He had to remind himself of that. Claude did not see the man he had killed that first night with Byleth, the bandit who was after him and the other two house leaders, Edelgard and Dimitri. All he remembered was the shadow approaching from the trees, letting an arrow fly, a grunt. . . And the shadow was gone. Claude didn’t even bother retrieving the arrow. He did not want to look death in the face when he had caused it.

“But you got your tent up so quickly, what is the harm in aiding a fellow classmate?” Lorenz demanded from Ignatz. He towered over the merchant’s son, gesturing between Ignatz’s perfectly pitched tent and his own mess of tarp and poles. Ignatz looked up at him with wide eyes, fumbling between words as Lorenz inched closer to his face. Raphael, who out-matched Lorenz’s tall wiry frame with his thick and solid one, stood between the two.

“We all have to do our own work,” he said. Claude found himself surprised—not for the first time—at how mild the giant’s voice was when he spoke. “It’s how we learn to gain some independence as well as cooperate with others. How can you work well with people if you do not appreciate the work that they do?”

“That’s a foolish notion! I appreciate the work of several people in my life without doing the same work they do. I appreciate the servants that made my bed every day back home, the tailor who provided me with such fine-fitting clothes—“

“Lorenz,” Byleth called from the other side of the camp. “You will set up your own tent tonight. If that is too much work for you, I will be more than happy to assign you to the stables or to weeding duty all next week to teach you what work really is.” Lysithea and Hilda both snickered beside her. Even Leonie seemed to suppress a smile.

Lorenz frowned, but he did not argue with her. He stepped away from Raphael and Ignatz, who sighed audibly and adjusted his glasses. Claude resumed setting up his own tent. No sense rubbing it in Lorenz’s face. That could be the difference between Claude receiving aide or a knife in his back the next day. Life was dangerous enough without stirring up unnecessary trouble.

When Claude had his tent set up, he took a step back to admire his work. The poles were a little crooked, sure, but it was sturdy enough. It would keep him warm and dry for the night. That was what mattered. He scanned the rest of the campsite to see how his classmates fared. Lorenz, at last, had his tent up. It looked similar to Claude’s, if not a little more unstable. Raphael and Ignatz chatted lightly on the other side of him, their work done several minutes prior. Leonie tested her bow strings by the trees next to her perfectly-pitched tent. Lysithea was nowhere to be found, but a dim light could be seen from the inside her modest shelter. Claude assumed she had her nose stuck in a book. Beside her tent was Hilda’s. . .if it could be called a tent. One gust of wind would surely bring the teetering structure down. Byleth’s tent stood as tall and proud as she was. At the end of the circle, where the boy’s half touched the girl’s half again, Marianne was pacing in and out of her low, long tent.

Claude sighed. That girl is a wreck, he thought. Still, he had to get to know these people better. Marianne was shy and a little skittish, but not unfriendly. She might be an easy starting point. “Hey, Marianne?” Claude called. Marianne jumped. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for who had said her name.

“Oh! My Lord Claude,” she said with a bow as he approached.

“Just ‘Claude’ is fine, Marianne,” Claude said. “Do you need a hand? You look like you’re in a—erm—in a predicament.”

“I can’t find my sword,” Marianne said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought you were a magic user? Why on Fódlan would you need a sword?” He did not mean to laugh, but he did. Just a little.

“Magic is finite,” Marianne explained. “And if I run out before the fight is over—“ she wrung her hands. Her eyes met Claude’s, two intense pools of blue. “I don’t want to—“

“Okay, class. Gather around,” Byleth called. Marianne jumped. She bowed to Claude again and approached their professor. Claude’s brow furrowed. Marianne seemed. . . Flightier than normal. If such a thing was possible. It would have to be dealt with later. If Byleth called, he would have to follow, as well. Perhaps Marianne did not want Byleth to think she was ignoring her. Claude joined the gathering in the center of camp. “You all should know the general details of our mission by now,” Byleth began again, now that all eight students were within ear shot. “A group of bandits have been attacking the surrounding villages. We discovered that their base is up in Zanado—commonly referred to as the Red Canyon—above us. Our mission is to disband them at all costs.” She paused to look each of her students in the eye. “This is different from a mock battle. There will be no wooden swords, no holding back the swing of your blade, no hitting the space just next to your opponent with a fire blast. I know most of you have not killed before, and I won’t demean you by pretending it won’t change you. But let me remind you that these men are killers, and letting them live would be the same as failing to protect the people of the valley. One life taken tomorrow may save a dozen more in the future. Lives that matter more than those of murderers.”

Byleth’s words made the students squirm, most of them clutching their arms or shifting back and forth on their feet. Claude wondered if, until this moment, many of them had forgotten that Byleth was a mercenary before becoming their teacher. The only reason she remained at the monastery was because the archbishop Rhea had asked it of her. Denying the request of the church’s head was as if to deny the church itself. And that request had only been made the month before. A few weeks of teaching would not wash away the years of ferocity that came from killing for a living. It was that same ferocity that drew Claude to Byleth in the first place. He doubted they would succeed on tomorrow’s mission if Byleth had chosen to pamper them.

“I won’t blame you for being hesitant about tomorrow’s mission, but that does not mean you can hang back during the fight. The knights will be spread too thin and far to do the fighting for you. Let me assure you, though, it is not my intention to throw caution to the wind. I want you all to gain experience, but your lives are more important to me than anything. That is why I assigned battalions to a handful of you, with the intention of grouping the remaining students with those who have guards with them. The strategy for tomorrow is—“

Claude tuned out Byleth’s words. He knew the plan front and back already, having been the one to help her hammer out the details of the mission with Rhea and the knights the days before. He was much more interested now in the reactions from his classmates. Some pairs would work better together than others. As Byleth listed off each pair, Claude took note of the reactions around the circle to see if he needed to recommend any last-minute changes to Byleth for the next day.

Claude himself was to be paired with Raphael. He had been gifted with his own personal mini-army the moment he enrolled in the officer’s academy. His grandfather saw to that personally. Since they had no other current uses, they acted as Claude’s battalion during missions. Raphael hardly needed the protection, as he preferred close-hand combat. Still, he had the least experience out of all of them, and despite his eagerness to be a knight one day, he was a complete softie. Claude figured he would need some proper motivation on the battlefield. Motivation that he could undoubtedly give. Hilda and Ignatz would be under Hilda’s guard, which Claude thought was a grand idea. For all her laziness, Hilda was a tank with an axe in her hands. Ignatz would make a great support from a distance, without having to worry about being in the way of her blade. Lysithea and Lorenz would be paired together, and while they were hardly on friendly terms with each other, they oddly made a good pair. Lorenz would never let a woman be harmed in his presence, as he saw it as part of his “noble duty” to help women at every opportunity. Conversely, as Lysithea could use her magic at a distance, she did not have to put up with his bullshit at close range. And on the off chance she would need to, she could handle him better than the other girls in her class. Lastly, Byleth listed off Leonie and Marianne. Both girls stiffened. Huh, Claude thought. That was the last reaction he expected. As far as he knew, Leonie and Marianne got along rather well. They were both driven to do well, though their motivations could not be more different. Claude had seen them talking with each other in the hall just a few days prior! He wondered if something had happened between them.

“If anyone has any questions, bring them to me. We leave at sunrise tomorrow,” Byleth finished. She returned to her tent, and one by one the students dismembered. Leonie looked pointedly at Marianne before stalking off. Marianne practically fled back to her tent in response.

“Hey, hey,” Claude called to her as he tried to catch up.

“I need to find my sword. . .”

“We can deal with that later. What’s going on between you and Leonie?”

Marianne sighed, looking everywhere she could except for directly at Claude. Her hands were wringing together over and over. “We. . .” Marianne whispered. “We got in a little fight the other day.”

“What happened?” Claude asked her. Marianne sighed again. It could have been the setting sun, but it appeared that her eyes were welling up with tears.

“We. . . It was all my fault.” Marianne still would not look Claude in the eye. “I was at the stables looking at the horses. Leonie approached me asking if I would help her with something. I declined—but not because I did not want to be helpful! I just—you know—I mess things up sometimes, and I did not want to create more work for her. . .” Marianne’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “But she thought I was blowing her off. I tried to apologize—“ She covered her face with her hands.

“Leonie is a bit of a hot head,” Claude told her, hoping he was speaking low enough to not be heard by anyone else in the camp. He patted Marianne’s shoulder. “Give her a couple of days and I’m sure it will blow over.”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it?” Marianne gasped. “I don’t have a couple of days!” Tears fell down her face. “What if she gets injured—or worse—because I screw something up? I could never be forgiven then.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Claude assured her.

“But you don’t know for sure, do you?” Claude tried to find the right words to comfort her, but they did not come. “I appreciate you looking out for me,” Marianne said. “Truly, I do. But. . . I am not an experienced fighter like you. Or Byleth. Or Le—others in our class. I just don’t want anyone to die tomorrow. I don’t want to, either. Not like this, at least. . . I am afraid, Claude.”

“Don’t be afraid. We will be more than well-guarded by our battalions, and Byleth will keep us out of danger if things get too out of hand.”

“There are never any guarantees, though. That is just fact.” Marianne wiped her eyes and bowed. “If you will excuse me, I need to look for my sword.”

Claude watched her leave, his mouth pressed firmly in a frown. As much as he wanted to be an optimist, she was right. There were no guarantees who would come out on top in the middle of a fight. The odds could be on your side’s favor, but if an arrow had your name on it, you were going to get caught by it. That was something his mother had taught him, years ago. Claude stalked towards Byleth’s tent.

“Hey, Teach!” he beamed. “May I come in?”

Byleth was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping mat, reading what looked like a leather-bound ledger. She closed it with her finger stuck between the pages where she had been reading. “How can I help you, Claude?” she asked. Claude thought he detected concern in her voice.

“I was thinking about the pairs we have set up for tomorrow,” Claude began, leaning lightly against the tent pole. He hoped his tone was casual enough. He did not want Marianne to be put on the spot because of him. “Don’t you think Raphael and Leonie would be a better pair? I know Leonie has some experience with a lance, but truthfully she is so much better with a bow. Besides, who better to motivate Raphael than the class perfectionist?”

“Marianne is also a long-distance unit, though. Like you.”

“She has a sword, doesn’t she?”

“Have you ever actually seen her use it? Or pick it up, for that matter?”

“And here I thought this mission was about giving us some battle experience!”

“Not at the risk of her life, Claude,” Byleth asserted. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Is there something wrong with Raphael? Is there a reason that you don’t want to be paired with him anymore?”

“No, no! Of course not!”

“Then why are you trying to be paired with Marianne?”

“I’m not trying to be paired with Marianne. I just told you, I think Leonie and Raphael—“

“Claude—“

“Not that there is anything wrong with Marianne at all, either—“

“Claude—“

“Okay, okay. You caught me. I have a crush on her. I was hoping if I could prove how dashing I am in action—“

“Claude!”

“What?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Claude replied, lacing his fingers behind his head and giving Byleth his most convincing smile. Byleth sighed. She removed her finger from between the pages of her book and leaned forward.

“You are quite mischievous, but you are shit at deception. You act the most relaxed when you are the most bothered. It’s part of why I chose to lead your house. I don’t like not knowing what is going on around me, a sentiment I’m sure you share.”

Claude gulped. He had always considered himself an expert liar. It kept him out of a lot of trouble growing up. But of course Byleth would be able to see through it. She had yet to fail to impress him. He sighed, resting his hands on his lap.

“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on now?”

“Not all of it,” Claude admitted. “Just that I think it is important for me to be by Marianne’s side tomorrow. The rest of it is her business.”

Byleth nodded, seeming to accept his answer. “Consider it done. I will tell Leonie and Raphael of the changes if you want to tell Marianne.”

“Thank you, Teach!” Claude beamed, leaping forward. “I will go tell her now.”

“One more thing,” Byleth called, stopping him at the doorway. “I may not know all of the details, but I can tell that you are acting out of your position as a leader. Looking after your people is more important than having power and giving orders ever will be. I’m proud of you.”

Claude smiled, though he felt embarrassed for how happy her words made him. “Even a scoundrel gets it right sometimes,” he said. He ducked out of the tent and rushed back to where he last saw Marianne heading. The only taint in his victory was the death threat still crumbled in his pocket.

“Get back!” Claude called, pulling Marianne out of the way of an arrow. “It came from the left.” Marianne straightened, facing the cliffs where Claude had indicated. She uttered an incantation, and with a wave of her hand, a bolt of light crashed down on the entire area. There is no way anyone could have survived that, Claude thought. “Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand.

They had been separated from the rest of the group, including their battalions. The canyon trail leading to the thieves’ hideout split into two, so Byleth split the group in half to go around each side and corner the enemy. But the thieves were fast, faster than Claude anticipated. In minutes, they had corralled Claude and Marianne away from everyone else. If it hadn’t been for Marianne’s healing abilities, Claude was sure he would not be able to walk anymore.

“It’s too quiet. . .” Marianna whispered, eyes flicking from crevice to crevice in the cliffside.

Claude squeezed Marianne’s hand. “It will be okay,” he said. “I can hear shouting around this curve in the road. Our friends are just up ahead, I’m sure of it.”

Marianne nodded, clutching her free hand to her chest.

A few steps further brought the pair to an opening in the path. As Claude suspected, his classmates were on the other side of the clearing, taking out the remaining bandits at the base of their hideout. “See?” he said to Marianne, letting go of her hand to point ahead. “We have nearly caught up to them. Let’s go!” Claude quickened his pace, eager to be in the safety provided by large numbers. Marianne was right on his heels. Claude could see Byleth at the back of the group, watching over her students and barking orders to their guards. “Byleth!” Claude called. Byleth turned around. It may have been the distance, but Claude could have sworn relief washed over her face.

“Hurry!” she called. Claude smiled, running faster.

“Claude—“ Marianne panted. She was further behind him now. “I can’t keep—“

“Rawwwrrrgh!” A voice boomed. Claude was barely turning on his heels when he heard it. The sound of metal penetrating flesh rang in his ears. He met Marianne’s eyes just as they went blank. She crumbled to the ground, a large man standing between her and Claude, and his sword dripping wet with Marianne’s blood.

“No!!” Claude cried, letting an arrow fly. He caught the man between the eyes, and his body fell. Claude rushed to Marianne’s side. “No, no, no,” he whispered, cupping her head. She did not respond. Her body was limp, lifeless. “You can’t die on me.”

Claude had failed her. He told Marianne that she would not have to worry if she was with him. He was so convinced that as her house leader, he could protect her. But he was wrong. Claude’s tears spilled onto her pale face. She was dead. And it was all Claude’s fault. He failed as a leader.

He failed as a protector.

How could anyone trust him now?

How could anyone follow him now?

Marianne.

Marianne. . .

Mari—

—iraM.

?won mih wollof enoyna dluoc woH

?won mihtsurtenoynadluocwoH.rotcetorpasadeliafeH.redaelasadeliafeH.tluafs’edualc—

Claude squeezed Marianne’s hand. “It will be okay,” he said. “I can hear shouting around this curve in the road. Our friends are just up ahead, I’m sure of it.”

Marianne nodded, clutching her free hand to her chest.

A few steps further brought the pair to an opening in the path. As Claude suspected, his classmates were on the other side of the clearing, taking out the remaining bandits at the base of their hideout “See?” he said to Marianne, letting go of her hand to point ahead. “We have nearly caught up to them. Let’s go!” Claude quickened his pace, eager to be in the safety provided by large numbers. Marianne was right on his heels. Byleth was at the back, watching over her students and barking orders to their guards. “Byleth!” Claude called. Byleth turned around. It may have been the distance, but Claude could have sworn her face was one of rage and ferocity.

“Stay there!” she shouted, charging forward with her blade drawn. Claude halted, and Marianne ran into his back.

“Oof!” she grunted. Claude hardly noticed. Why would Teach want them to—

“Rawwwrrrgh!” A voice boomed. Claude instinctually raised his bow, letting an arrow fly. . .

Right between the eyes of a bandit. The large man fell to his knees, dropping his sword just inches from Claude’s chest.

Claude stared blankly at the man. Had he taken one more step. . . Or worse, had he ran ahead, leaving Marianne a few steps behind him— His knees buckled, and Marianne had to catch him to keep him from falling.

“Are you two okay?” Byleth asked. Claude felt Marianne nod against his back, and he numbly mimicked the motion. Byleth watched him scrutinizingly. “There should be no more surprises,” she said. “We have the rest of the bandits apprehended. It looks like keeping everyone in pairs was a good move, because there are no casualties on our side.”

“No casualties. . .” Claude repeated. Why did that not seem right to him? He felt Marianne still pressed up against his back, shaking slightly. Or was it his own body shaking?

“Yes, no casualties,” Byleth said. She extended her hand to Claude. “Can you stand? I would rather have everyone in a group in case there are any other enemies in hiding.”

Claude looked up at her. Byleth’s eyes were unreadable. Blank, motionless pools. They made the perfect mirror. Inside them, Claude saw his own fear and confusion. He was alive. Marianne was alive.

Marianne was alive?

Pull yourself together.

Claude straightened up, smiling weakly. “You got it, Teach. I wouldn’t want to miss the cheers of victory, now would I? Come on, Marianne, let’s join the others.” He looped Marianne’s arm through his and led her to the rest of their classmates. Byleth followed silently.

That was a close one, Claude thought. He refused to give Byleth a reason to doubt choosing him. To doubt choosing the Golden Deer. He would not let her down.

But. . .

Why did he feel like he already had?

The group of classmates were all chattering excitedly when Claude and Marianne approached. Claude heard bits and pieces: most of them had made their first kills today. Some were excited. Others. . . Tried to be. But Claude could tell many of them would see blank faces in their dreams that night. Leonie was the first to notice their presence. Her eyes widened at the sight of them.

“Marianne!” she called, rushing forward to meet them just before they entered the circle of students. “Your arm is bleeding! I think I have a vulnerary in my bag.”

“I’m fine,” Marianne whispered. Leonie’s brow furrowed. She tugged on Marianne’s good arm.

“Of course you are not fine! Look at you, you’re shaking! I cannot let a friend of mine remain in this condition.”

“Friend?” Marianne asked. Leonie stopped tugging on her.

“Of course.”

“I just—I thought that—after the other day—“ Marianne’s eyes welled up with tears.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Leonie said. “I was being hasty and stupid when I said—Come on, let’s get this wound looked at. We can talk once you’re healed. . .” Leonie wrapped her arm around Marianne, who nodded and allowed Leonie to lead her away. Claude smiled as he watched them leave. Who knew a dangerous battle could cause them to make up?

“I am assuming they got in a fight before the mission. Was that why you wanted to switch partners?” Byleth asked. Claude nearly jumped. He did not realize she was standing just on the other side of him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I did not want them to have their minds in two different places on the battlefield. A split mind is dangerous.”

“Yes. It is,” Byleth replied, a hint of accusation in her tone.

“You saved her life, by the way. Had you not called out for me to wait, I—“

“What’s done is done,” Byleth said, cutting him off. “The bandit is dead and neither of you got hurt.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Claude sighed. “But still, your leadership was amazing, Teach. We can probably leave the rest of the work here to the knights and head back to the monastery.”

“I agree. Go celebrate with your peers. I am going to speak with the knights to make sure they do not need any more help from us before we leave. We can hopefully make it back to the monastery by nightfall.”

Claude nodded. “You got it, Teach.” He winked at her then caught up to his classmates.

“Claude!” Raphael boomed, picking Claude up and squeezing him. “I feel so pumped right now! Like I could lift a mountain! I can’t believe our first mission was so successful!”

“Of course it was successful,” Claude laughed, nearly out of breath. Raphael put him down and clapped him on the back. “With someone like Teach leading us, how could we go wrong?”

“At least you admit that you were not the cause for our success,” Lorenz muttered. His hair was messed up, and he was frantically trying to pat it down smooth again.

“I take credit where credit is due. No more, no less,” Claude replied. He was suddenly thinking of the death threat in his pocket again.

“I thought you did magnificent, Claude!” Hilda beamed. She swung her axe over her shoulder. It was a wonder she had not accidentally cut off one of her two long ponytails by now. “Ignatz and I saw you take down a guy at least three hundred yards away with only one shot!”

“I admit, I was a little jealous,” Ignatz added. He was sitting on a rock, hands clasped together. No doubt to keep them from shaking.

“I would not be here if it wasn’t for Claude,” a faint voice said behind him. Leonie and Marianne were returning to the circle. “He had my back the entire battle, even though I was no use to him. . . That final bandit surely would have killed us if Claude had not been so quick with the bow.”

Claude forced a swallow. His classmates were all looking at him with awe and admiration. Even Lorenz had the grace to look impressed. But. . . Claude did not feel like he deserved it. Even though he was looking her in the eye, alive and well, he had the feeling like he had somehow failed Marianne.

“Yeah, but I would have been dead several times over if I did not have you healing my wounds when we got separated from the rest of class,” Claude said with a grin. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“See? You were not useless at all, Marianne,” Leonie piped up.

Claude smiled. His classmates continued chattering excitedly, patting each other on the back and praising each other’s victories. Claude sat back and watched. He wanted to bond with them, but not when he felt this way. There would be other days to celebrate victory. He sighed, looking around at the surrounding soldiers who were securing the area. They were seasoned warriors, used to far more than the Golden Deer could fathom at the moment. They were not celebrating. Everything was business as usual.

Claude squinted, wondering where Byleth had gone. She said she wanted to speak with the knights, but he could not spot her among them. And the woman certainly stood out, even in the midst of men twice her size. Frowning, Claude scanned the canyon for her. He spotted her standing alone, by the edge of a cliff. She seemed to be looking at something, though Claude could not tell what. Curious, he approached her.

“I remember this being a peaceful place. . .” Byleth murmured, so soft that Claude did not think she meant to say it aloud. Claude stopped right behind her. She did not acknowledge him. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, as her eyes were glazed over.

“Teach?” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. Byleth jumped, causing him to recoil. Byleth was usually not the skittish type. Far from it. “What are you doing over here? I thought you were going to get the clear to leave from the knights?”

“I was—I did. They do not need anything else from us today.”

Claude waited to see if she would offer more, but she did not. “We should get back to the academy, then,” Claude said. “So we don’t get caught in the middle of nowhere when it’s dark.”

“Of course,” Byleth replied, her eyes sharper than a sword once again. “I will tell the other students.” Byleth pushed past him and stalked away. Claude frowned. Something was clearly bothering her about this place, though he did not know what. As far as he knew, the Red Canyon had been abandoned for centuries. Well, abandoned save for the bandits. When would she even have had a chance to be there before?

“Claude!” Hilda called. “We’re heading back! Let’s go!”

“Coming!” Claude called, running to catch up to her. He wondered what sort of knowledge Byleth had that Claude did not. He had researched every notable square inch of Fódlan before entering the continent to enroll in the Academy, and nothing seemed particularly of note about this place save for some boring lore about the goddess living here. Come to think of it, why was Zanado not occupied by the church? Should it not have been sanctioned as holy ground?

Claude caught sight of Marianne as he got closer to the group, and guilt overcame him once again. He could not explain it, but he could have sworn his arrow was too late, that he saw her dead in his arms. But there she was, practically unscathed, being praised for her bravery by her classmates. Perhaps it was something about the Red Canyon that affected him this way. Maybe Byleth could feel it too? At the very least, she knew something that Claude did not. And Claude wanted answers. Byleth might not swoon at his charms the way that other girls did, but that was not his only method for getting information. It was always possible that she would be more open to talking once they left the Red Canyon, as well. . .

#fe3h turn back the hands #claude von reigen #fe3h claude #fe3h fanfic #Fire Emblem Three Houses #claude x byleth #fe3h #claude von riegan

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ladydaedra · 4 years

Text

Snowed In

Part: 4/?

Pairings: Ulfric x Dragonborn; Brynjolf x OC; Cicero x OC

Summary: An alliance has been struck and the tides of the war is about to shift as a result.

Warnings: Descriptions of violence and gore; Skyrim takes on a bit of ‘Game of Thrones’ feeling; May contain controversial themes

Wordcount: 2300

------

'To the one that receives this message, the offer was finalized and another banner joins ours.

I depart for the Base today and ask for you to meet me there so we can formulate a plan to defeat the enemy.

I'll go into more details once everyone is in the same room.

~ Ayla'

Ayla folds the two pieces of paper and pours some melted, red wax on the edge before stamping her symbol on it. A dragon surrounded by fire.

She lets the wax dry as she stares at a portrait on the wall in front of her, biting at her lips. It is late into the night and they were going to leave to the base that houses her rebellion in the morning.

She lets out a sigh as she taps her fingers on the surface of the desk, traveling into her thoughts. She just made an alliance with the Stormcloaks. The chances of winning this war against the Thalmor just went up.

She smiles to herself just as the wooden door to her room swings open, revealing a joyous Xaliyah, laughing at herself and on the way to being drunk.

"Whata you smiling bout?" Xaliyah asks, leaning against the door.

Ayla looks down at her desk before meeting her friend's gaze, "just today's success," she replies and Xaliyah stares at her in silence for a few seconds before walking forward and grabbing Ayla's wrists and trying to tug the Dragonborn onto her feet.

"Then celebrate it at the bar," Xaliyah suggests as she tries to pull Ayla to her feet, "Bryn and Kharjo are there as well,"

Ayla sighs and shakes her head, sending the brunette an apologetic smile, "as much as I would like to, Xal, I got a few more things to do before I go to bed,"

Xaliyah sighs as she drops Ayla's wrists, "you're such a workaholic, Ayla," Xaliyah says with an eye-roll, "have some fun tonight. You've earned it,"

"I'll celebrate when we have won some victories against the Thalmor," Ayla responds, walking over and grabbing her cloak, tossing it over her shoulders and putting the hood over her head before picking up the two letters on the desk.

"Who are those for?" Xaliyah asks, following the raven-haired female out of the room.

"Athena and Tal," Ayla replies as she walks past the bar where Brynjolf is ordering a few more drinks.

"Aye, Ayla, joining us for a few drinks, are ya?" Brynjolf asks, holding up a tankard filled with ale. Ayla turns around when she reaches the door.

"Not tonight, Brynjolf," she replies as she holds up the two letters in her hand, "got business to take care of,"

"It's going to be a big blizzard tonight, dear," the owner, Elda, says from behind the bar as she hands Brynjolf another mug of ale, "don't stay out too late,"

Ayla smiles politely at the older woman, bowing her head in respect, "I'll be fine," she says before glancing over at Xaliyah and Brynjolf, who is now walking up the stairs and to the second floor, "don't be afraid to yell at them if things get too wild," she adds to Elda before opening the door and stepping out into the wind.

She hears the howling of a pack of wolves outside the city walls and the footsteps of someone walking past her. She gives them a friendly nod before heading towards the city gates in search for a courier at the stables. But she slows to a stop after taking three steps.

A courier is the most common mode of sending messages in Skyrim. Ayla knows that the Thalmor intercepts any couriers they come across. These messages will not be safe from the Thalmor, or the empire for that matter.

So she turns around and heads straight towards the Palace of Kings. She jogs up the steps, cloak flowing behind her as snow starts to fall. She needs to hurry or risk being stuck in the Palace. Not that she would complain; it would be heated and she would have food and shelter, but she would probably be given a bed meant for the soldiers to take a quick nap on. She much prefers the comfortable beds of Candlehearth Hall.

She pushes the door open and shuts it behind her. As she gets used to the silence of the hall compared to the windy weather outside, she turns around and examines the room. Empty. Of course. She had no idea where the ravens are kept and knew that poking around would be unwelcome.

Just as she was about to walk back outside, a cough and footsteps stop her. She looks over her shoulder to see the steward of the Palace, "excuse me, sir," she calls out, removing her hood and walking forward several steps. The man stops walking and looks over at her.

"May I help you at such a late hour?" he questions, obviously confused, as Ayla stops a few feet in front of him, "I'm afraid Jarl Ulfric is asleep right now-"

Ayla shakes her head, "I'm not here to talk with him," she explains, "I'm actually wondering if you have any ravens I can borrow to send a few letters,"

The man furrows his brows, "why not find a courier?"

"Too risky, especially now in the times we live in," she explains and the man slowly nods, "now if you could point me in the right direction-"

"We keep what ravens we have up in the tower with the court wizard, Wuunferth," he explains, nodding over at a door to the left of the entrance to the Palace, "but seeing that it is so late at night, I assume that he is asleep as well,"

Ayla sighs in disappointment. She hoped to get these letters sent tonight so the two they are addressed to receives them in the morning, "Oh, I'll just come back tomorrow morning then," she says, stepping back a few steps, "thank you for your help," she adds with a smile and turns back towards the door.

"Ma'am," the man says and Ayla looks back at him, hoping that he will take her to the ravens instead, "it's snowing pretty heavily at the moment. I would suggest that you stay here for the night,"

Of course, that is what he says. She wasn't in the palace for that long, how fast did this snowstorm pick up? Ayla opens and closes her mouth, trying to think of an appropriate way to decline his suggestion.

"Dragonborn or not, this weather is not suitable for travel, even if your destination is down the road," he adds firmly and Ayla sees no point in wasting her breath arguing with him. With an irritated sigh, she runs a hand through her hair before crossing her arms over her chest, sending the steward a pointed look.

"Fine," she sighs, the exhaustion slowly getting to her, "where do I sleep?" she figured he would reply with a simple 'in the barracks' since that would be a simple and easy solution.

"If you'll follow me, I can show you to your temporary quarters," the man says with a warm smile before walking to the door that he said lead to where the wizard was.

"Isn't this.."

"Wuunferth has a room in this section of the Palace," the man explains as they walk up a set of stairs, "there are several other rooms here where we let our more esteemed guests sleep," he rounds a few corners before stopping in front of a door, unlocking it and swinging it open for her, "this will be your room for the night," he adds as Ayla walks in.

It was a modest room with a large bed in the middle, a window showing the dark outside, and a fireplace surrounded by wooden chairs. A set of table and chairs sit in front of the window, a bottle of wine and a tankard sitting on the table.

"Thank you, Mr..." Ayla says, turning back to the steward, who smiles in response.

"Just call me Jorleif, ma'am," he says, grabbing the door handle to close it, "and if you need any help in the morning, please come find me," and with that he shuts the door, leaving Ayla alone in the foreign room.

She takes her cloak off and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs before sitting down on the bed, listening to the crackling of the fire over the windy storm outside. Just one night. Tomorrow morning, she will send the letters and then be off to her base.

~~~

Ayla couldn't find Wuunferth. She checked the only spot she could think of that a court wizard would be, but he wasn't there. And the only other people in the section that she was in were the three people who seem to hate her so much. After putting her cloak back on, she descends the stairs and returns to the main hall.

The three people are seated at the table, eating and conversing with each other in hushed voices. Ayla glances at the throne and sees it still empty. She blinks as she looks to the right of the throne and sees Jorleif standing there. She smiles as she approaches him.

"How may I help you today, ma'am?" he questions and Ayla glares over her shoulder at the blonde woman who had scoffed at Ayla.

"I can't find the court wizard anywhere," she explains, fingers running across the letters in her hand, feeling embarrassed that she can't find someone as simple as a court wizard, "I was asking if you could help me,"

Jorleif nods in response, laughing a bit, "of course," he says, leading his way back towards the door she just walked out of. Ayla follows close behind but looks back at the table when she overhears a commotion.

"Are you just going to let that hag Maven remain the Jarl of Riften?" the blonde woman says angrily, standing up and staring or glaring, Ayla couldn't tell since the woman's back was towards her, at Ulfric as he approaches his throne, "it's been days, Ulfric. You said I'll have Riften back by now,"

"And I am working on that, Laila," Ulfric replies with a sigh as he sits down, giving the woman a tired look, "there are more important things at the moment. Riften will still be there,"

Laila Law-Giver. That's her name. Former Jarl of Riften. Exiled when Ayla agreed to give Riften to the Empire at the cease-fire meeting between both sides of the Civil War so long ago. It was a decision she regrets. She would have preferred if the Imperials stayed out of her favorite city and especially if Maven wouldn't have been made Jarl in place of Laila.

Maven Black-Briar. A name and person Ayla hates and one day hopes to rid the world of. When she first met Maven, Ayla could tell all the woman cared about was benefiting herself. No one but her and her family. Xaliyah's own hatred fueled Ayla's even more. If the Empire put people like Maven on the throne, then that is all the more reason to rid Skyrim of them.

She is pulled from her thoughts when Laila sits back down. Ayla stares at the blonde for a few seconds before looking over at Ulfric, who is already staring at her. Ayla's gaze hardens before she closes her slightly opened mouth and looks back at Jorleif as they finally reach the door.

"Wuunferth, you have a visitor," Jorleif says and an elderly man turns around and smiles when he sees Ayla.

"Ah, the Dragonborn," he says, still smiling, "I heard that you were visiting. It is an honor to meet you," Ayla returns his handshake with a smile and a 'thank you', "now, what brings you here today?"

"I have a few letters I need to send by raven,"

Wuunferth raises his brows at her in shock at such a request, "ravens? What for? What happened to the couriers?"

Ayla smiles, knowing that question would be asked, "these letters hold valuable information, " she explains, "I will not give them to a courier with the risk of them being intercepted," she watches as Wuunferth studies her for a few seconds before nodding.

"We live in a time filled with so much war that it is no longer safe for a courier to bring letters to people," he says before walking towards the back of his room, where Ayla can hear a few caws, "two letters, two birds," he says, unhooking a cage and letting a raven step onto his wrist, "tell them the location and person and they'll be off,"

Ayla rolls the letters up and ties one of them to each bird's feet. She watches as they both fly out of the open window beside them, "thank you, sir," she says, turning away from the window as Wuunferth closes it. The two walk out of the back room and into the main area of his room.

"Anything to help the Dragonborn in these trying times," he replies as he goes back to his work. Ayla takes that as her cue to leave and retreats back into the main hall of the Palace. It barely changed in the ten minutes she was gone. Laila continues urging Ulfric to go liberate Riften from the Empire's grip and the Jarl dismisses her words with a wave of his hand.

Ayla turns her attention back to the door and lifts her hood over her head as she nears it. She needs to hurry to the stables so she can get to her base in a few days time. When she arrives, that is when this war gets deadlier than it was before.

#Skyrim #Skyrim fanfiction #Ulfric Stormcloak #Brynjolf #Cicero #Imperials #Civil War #Dragonborn #Dovahkiin #Thieves guild #Dark Brotherhood #Rebellion #Thalmor #long time no post #yeah it's been a hot minute #but enjoy

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atopearth · 4 years

Text

The Legend of Dragoon Part 1 - The Serdian War

Omggg this is so nostalgic already! Seeing Rose save Dart from the Dragon was a pretty iconic scene haha. I honestly don't remember this game having voice dubs lol, that was a nice surprise. I can't remember why exactly Shana could affect the future of this world or whatever, but I do remember she's the Moon Child or something and Dart needs to go around the world saving her haha. It's sad to see Dart's hometown Seles get burnt to the ground just because Imperial Sandora needed to capture Shana. And omggg I love how unique the battle system is btw, it's honestly the highlight of the game for me hahaha. I used to be pretty bad at it but I usually get the hang of it after a while haha. It's so weird btw. It's probably been more than 10 years since I played this game, but somehow subconsciously I knew that there must be something at the graves in Seles, and there really was stardust there! I can't remember what it's for, but I guess it's good to know that inside me I still remember a lot of things about this game haha. Anyway, Dart and Shana have a pretty common childhood friend relationship where he's always protected her since they were kids, so there's no way he won't go to save her from Hellena Prison. Seriously though, it's a pretty cliche relationship but I don't know why, when I was a kid, I was just really fond of them haha.

Meeting Lavitz here for Dart is a blessing since he'll be able to help him get through all the soldiers, but I guess that's likewise for Lavitz. Still better for Dart though since he'll be constantly trying to protect Shana haha. Anyway, I always found it saddening that Lavitz wanted to protect his fellow Knights of Basil that were captured as well, and about to be fed to Fruegel's pet but in the end, they still ended up dying🥺 I didn't realise that Dart actually hadn't been back to Seles for 5 years! No wonder why the others in town took a while to realise it was him, I just thought they were all groggy after their injuries. I guess that's why they believed that if he was there, Seles might have been okay, but still though, one more Dart can't really go against an army lol. Anyway, playing with Lavitz is so nostalgic! Hearing Dart say Double Slash and Lavitz say Harpoon is just so crazy hahaha. I can't wait to get Rose etc~ I still suck at the Additions though lmao, every time I'm like, I'm to good at this, I fail hahahaha, and I'm still just doing Double Slash, I literally only need to press one button when it goes close to the square lol! Fruegel wasn't that hard of a boss at all! I actually really enjoyed being able to use my Addition skills more because the soldiers kept dying in one hit lol. Ohh yeah, Dart's first hometown (where he and his parents lived) was called Neet and was attacked by the Black Monster! I think it was pretty saddening that his family escaped, but his father decided to return to help others, and his mother followed after him, like, what about your child?! It must have hurt for Dart to see something similar happen to Seles though... I can't believe Dart went on a journey to find the Black Monster when he was 13 though, like dang! But I guess a kid like him who had to learn to survive by himself would be resilient enough by that age... Hmmmm, as I gathered, the Kingdom of Basil is at war with Imperial Sandora and the war is widespread over Serdio itself. Can Emperor Doel of Imperial Sandora control the Dragon enough that he thinks he can take over Albert's kingdom instead of keeping the truce?? Gotta love how conveniently that log we chopped allowed us to cross the river hahahaha. Lavitz is such a kind soul though. He doesn't even know these random people on the road, and they're even from Sandora but he just invites them to Bale and even his house because they have nowhere else to go. I guess his kindness is a reflection of the type of country Albert runs.

Lmao, I love how Dart and Lavitz are such bros that even Shana can't butt in🤣 It was pretty scary when Lavitz slipped on the rock and nearly fell off the waterfall though, I felt so nervous for him lol. So cute how the guys are so fond of each other already though lol. Not sure what exactly Shana's powers do, but it instantly decimated that snake when her life was in danger so....hmm. It's so sweet how respected Lavitz is that the artist girl in Bale painted a portrait of him, and Dart said it was too handsome hahaha. Omg! I feel so sorry for the NPC in the inn! His child and his grandchild died due to the war so he thinks there's no meaning to his life anymore... That's so saddening... The lady that has been waiting for her boyfriend to come back even after 10 years is so faithful, it's heartbreaking. It's so cool to see how much the people love Lavitz in Bale, I guess it's understandable though, not only is he a good boy and knight, his dad is also a revered knight, so he's probably doing well succeeding him. Not surprised Dart wanted to leave Shana here to protect her lol. I loved how she practically immediately told him her feelings about it and him, like wow, she's so bold to say she wants to stay beside him forever in front of the king and everyone lol. Albert is right though, with a dragon on their side, no place is really safe in Serdio anymore... Hmmmm Winglies used to rule at the top until the Dragon campaign where they fought against Emperor Diaz and the seven dragons, and it was then that humans acquired their freedom after their slavery by the Winglies? And it was then that the Black Monster appeared.. I think it's really cool of Dart to see that him chasing after the Black Monster all this time has been selfish of him, and it caused him to nearly lose his hometown again, so now he wants to join alongside Lavitz to end this war before it creates more people like him who have lost their homes. No wonder why Hoax sounds familiar huh, that's where the current line of defence has been pushed to, and it's most likely where they'll use the dragon! HAHAHA, why does Albert have a slide that goes back to the entrance of the castle in his bed chambers?! Not complaining though because that was pretty fun and cool lmao. LOL at Shana saying she's Dart's girlfriend and not Lavitz's when the mum misunderstood, even Dart didn't know she was hahahaha. Lmao at Dart saying he can cook aka he can cook a large piece of meat hahaha, is that how he survived by himself for 5 years?! Even Lavitz was like forget it, leave the cooking to his mum and Shana loll. The answers are all so hilarious, imagining Dart trying to practise with his sword in Lavitz's house is so cute loll, he'll destroy the place. It was even more funny when you choose the option to take a nap because Dart says every young lady knows that lack of sleep is bad for your skin, and Lavitz is just speechless at it hahahaha. Looking around the house, it honestly feels kinda lonely that Lavitz's mum lives in this big house by herself considering Lavitz is away most of the time. I've always enjoyed the rooftop scene, you get to see a nice view of Indels Castle and you can see that Lavitz's passion towards protecting his country stems from watching his father, but it's become his dream now too. This is similar to Dart, where his passion lies in protecting Shana because he's the only one that can do that right now, he might still consider her a baby sister for now, but we'll see how it all goes! I think it's really cute how in the end, Lavitz ended up spending the night and even took his mum's handmade jerky haha, he's a soft boy at heart. I mean, the country and the war is important, but who knows how many times he can bond with his mother, so I'm glad he decided to spend some proper time with her instead of just lunch. I find it funny how you can jump from Lavitz's house's rooftop to the stables hahaha, imagine doing that in real life!

Lmaoo at Dart, Lavitz and even Kaiser (the Eighth Knighthood leader taking care of Hoax) saying that as long as Shana's food is edible, it's good enough🤣 To be fair, when you're a knight or a wanderer like Dart, I doubt you'll have much complaints about food haha. Omgg so King Doel is actually Albert's uncle?! Since Doel is apparently Carlo/Albert's father's brother! I wonder why their relationship soured, was it because Doel wanted to be king instead? Lmao at the midwife asking if they came to talk to her because Dart and Shana wanted babies hahahaha. War is always a saddening thing though. When I think about the soldiers such as the one holding the amulet from his daughter believing that he can go back home to her, the people fortifying their houses to protect against the raid and everything, it's just so saddening to see these soldiers fall by enemy arrows and everything... Man, the fight against Kongol is so unforgiving lol! If you fail your addition, he counterattacks you! I missed it once and was like whoa! Otherwise, I always love Rose swooping down in her dragoon form and saving Dart from Kongol~ hmm, so the Dragoon Spirit (the stone Dart's father left behind) means that you "deserve" to rule Dragons and for him, it's the Red-Eye Dragon? Nice that it's clarified that Dragoons were the ones who led humans to victory in the Dragon campaign, the pictures just kinda showed humans riding on dragons so I wasn't sure haha. It was so cute how Dart piggy backed Shana and told her that even if she may not be as strong as Rose, she's good for other stuff and doesn't need to compare herself. Oooh so Winglies used Virages in the Dragon Campaign, this one was pretty weak though! Greham's story is a pretty common one, but I always find it terrible, mainly because people like him driven by jealousy and power in order to get stronger than their best friend that they essentially admire, but then kill them in that quest is just..sad. People like Lavitz's father Servi trusted him, but in the end because of their desire to be stronger, they sacrifice their friend and end up pretty much regretting it in their death. I'm not sure if Emperor Diaz from the Dragon Campaign is alive or whatever as he says, but it's nice that Greham ended up leading Lavitz to inherit the Jade Dragoon Spirit.

I remember Lohan! It's such a crazy city because of how huge it is, yet all the houses and stores are so tiny and in like a maze lol! No idea how Dabas (the antique seller that tells us we can get Dragoni plant to save Shana from dragon poison north of the nest or something) affords his gigantic store lol. Lmaoo at the man staring across the street at a lady thinking she's interested in him, but she's actually just staring at him because he reminds her of her dog hahahah. I love the rollercoaster kinda ride you do at Shirley's Shrine to get the numbers to go to the boss lol, it's pretty fun hahaha. I thought Drake the bandit was aiming for treasure here, but it seems that he was protecting Shirley all along! I feel bad that Shirley's gone now, but I guess this is how it should be, and at least the White Silver Dragoon Spirit is in good hands and will only be used to heal people. It's kinda cute how apparently Haschel and Dart journeyed together before! Now they've reunited in the Hero Competition! Anyway, I've always loved this tournament part because it's really cool to see how Dart himself fares against others without the party. On another note, I'm not sure why I love Lloyd since I've kinda forgotten his character, but to this day, I love the name Lloyd enough that if it wasn't weird, I would totally call my future kid Lloyd, and it's probably the only reason I would prefer a boy than a girl LOL. I think I always found it really cool how overwhelmingly strong he was compared to Dart probably. Lmao at Lavitz trying to drag Rose away so Dart could play games around the arena with Shana alone, but she punches him instead hahahha. Okay lmao, totally cannot do that obstacle course lolll. I'd rather do what's wrong with the room one, it's so easy after you do it a few times hahah, also helps if you cheat by taking a photo with your phone LOL. But otherwise, it's the same scene every time so it's pretty easy. The pink bird in the hat moving around is too hard with the pixels merging together imo lol! And the monkeys throwing balls at Dart is pretty hilarious hahahah.

Although I can understand why Dart is so adamant on continuing his journey looking for the Black Monster after the war, Lavitz is kinda right that maybe he should focus on the present instead of chasing after the past, otherwise he's going to lose his chance at happiness with Shana. Omgg, Albert offering up himself at Hellena Prison to protect the people of Bale from Imperial Sandora?? This is when Lavitz dies...isn't it?😭 Well, I obviously didn't farm enough to get Flower Storm for Lavitz and I honestly cbb, but I did Google to see it, and apparently when Lavitz does it, he says Rose Storm (because he likes roses the most apparently) and Albert says Blossom Storm because his favourite is cherry blossoms! The even cooler thing is that this is changed in their Dragoon forms! Lavitz's second magic skill is called Blossom Storm with cherry blossoms all around, and Albert's is Rose Storm so they kinda swap around in Dragoon form to show their love and camaraderie with each other, it's so cool! Honestly though, I nearly cried when Lavitz died. I feel like when I was a kid, I never really saw how cool, loyal and kind Lavitz was because the Additions were too fascinating lol, so now seeing how friendly he was, how considerate he was towards Shana's feelings for Dart, how he gave advice to Dart on what he should cherish most, and how we was always willing to give his life to his king and his country, it really broke my heart to see him die like that. Especially in Lloyd's hands, someone who we thought was an admirable swordsman turned out to be the guy who would kill Lavitz when they actually fought against each other. I'm not sure what kinda sword he has but it seemed really beam-y lol. And what is the Moon Gem that he needed from Albert's body? I think the pain really hit me when Lavitz entrusted everything to Dart, and then the Jade Dragoon Spirit flew out of him😭😭 Ohh, the reason why Lloyd could so easily pierce through Lavitz's Dragoon armour was because his sword was the Dragon Buster, a weapon from the old world made to kill Dragons! It's really nice of Haschel to have come along with them btw, especially since he's on a journey to find his daughter. Although I guess it's not much of a deterrence considering he's been looking for 20 years, but still. I guess he'll find her along the way... Hopefully. So, the Moon Gem was one of the magical artifacts scattered across the world made from the Winglies after their defeat, but only they can use them? It's been hidden in each crown heir every generation in fear of the powers of destruction it could bring when put in the wrong hands hmm, I'm kinda amazed they found a way to put it in the body like that though. I guess now that Albert's kingdom is "gone", he's got a reason to go along with us to end this war with the few people and Dragoons he has. I mean, if the Dragoons ended the Dragon Campaign, I'm sure they're better than an army anyway lol. It's kinda nice that the one who taught Albert his lance skills was Lavitz himself, so it's understandable that he would use the same moves. Anyway, onwards to the Black Castle where Emperor Doel resides! Straight to the end of the war hopefully!

Lmao at the guy registering to be a mercenary with Imperial Sandora trying to revoke it after his friend told him about the Dragon being defeated and Hellena Prison having fallen. Wow, I restarted because I accidentally sold something but omg when you say you want to register, the guy taking registrations advises you to not and even gives you money if you have money problems because he doesn't want you to risk your life! He's so nice... Aww the people at the inn! When the lady begged for us to stay and treat it like charity, I felt like I couldn't be stingy lol, it's only 20G anyway. LOL at the guy trying to con people for their money by claiming he killed Feyrbrand (Jade Dragon) and then he gets arrested hahahah. The variety of researchers in the Black Castle are hilarious, especially Mr Magi who turned himself into "Cerberus" but really turned into a dog lol. But the research of Dragons and magic? This sounds suspicious and bad... The battle against Kongol was so annoying! His skills take so long lol! Defeating Doel felt like...bringing someone back to their sanity? I wonder why he had to kill Albert's father back then, was it really just to be king? Anyway, it's not nice to be happy about someone's death, but honestly, with Emperor Doel's death, the 20 year war finally ends... But our journey has not, because as Dart said, this journey began because people captured Shana, and after that too many things have happened to just go home and live peacefully, we need to see what Lloyd wants and whether Emperor Diaz really is alive.

Anyway, that's the end of chapter 1! Kinda crazy that it was only one chapter tbh, I felt like I finished a story but really, it's just the beginning. So many things happened... Especially Lavitz's death. Anyway, I'm hyped to continue the journey! Btw the battle against Emperor Doel was pretty hard, he deals so much damage lol! But then again, I'm always cheap with my healing potions hahaha. Didn't think he'd be a Dragoon though, but I guess it was to be expected lol. Yay for everyone having a Dragoon Spirit now though lol. Honestly though, I really enjoy the variety of battles and how engaging the story and characters are. I really like how there are battles that are more as a symbolism than an actual battle such as Shirley’s where you’re supposed to give her the correct answers rather than defeating her, I think it really makes you think about everyone’s motivations and how they deal with it all in order to continue on their path. I just love it. The towns are also so different and fun! Like, Lohan is just a bumble of shops and everything, gotta love the guy that shouts at you for running around the rooftop lol, and Bale is just so Albert and Lavitz centred that it has such a warm feeling when you’re there. Tournaments are always my thing, so I’m glad this game has it too haha~ I can’t wait to see the rest!

#the legend of dragoon #legend of dragoon

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gryffindorcls · 5 years

Text

The Best Friend Swap: Chapter 1

Five years ago, Adrien Agreste’s life shattered into a million pieces. The final battle with Hawkmoth had been intense. Every miraculous had a holder, and Ladybug valiantly led her team to victory. However, in the end, it turned into a battle between the original dynamic duo and the villain they sought to defeat. The rest of the heroes defended the perimeter against an onslaught of Akumas and Sentimonsters. After hours of fighting, Ladybug finally ripped the Butterfly Miraculous off of Hawkmoth. When the light faded to reveal a seething Gabriel Agreste, Chat broke.

To this day, Marinette can still hear the anguished scream that came from Chat Noir as he collapsed into a heap on the ground. She remembers holding the shaking boy as he begged for it to be nothing more than a horrible nightmare. That was the day she learned that her “Chaton” was Adrien.

When Chat’s mask melted away, Gabriel crumbled, as well. During the battle, they had fought each other viciously. At that moment, both Agrestes were inconsolable. Ladybug simply held Adrien as he and his father came to terms with their new reality.

By the time the tears subsided, Ladybug’s mask was long gone. As Adrien’s eyes met Marinette’s, she could see a small spark of hope reignite within him. They sat together, huddling in the cold. They were exposed in more ways than one, but at that moment all that mattered was each other.

From then on, Marinette and Adrien were an inseparable pair. They walked hand in hand down the winding road of recovery. With each new struggle Adrien encountered, Marinette could be found supporting him in every way she could. It wasn’t long before their mutual feelings led them to become a couple. They became each other’s strength and solace.

As painful as it was, Adrien decided that he wanted his father to remain a part of his life, and Marinette respected his choice. At the time, Hawkmoth simply disappeared. Paris knew none the wiser, and it gave the Agreste family the space it needed to heal.

Years passed, and many things became easier. Unfortunately, nature abhors a vacuum, so the void created by the absence of Akumas gave rise to a new conflict. Gabriel and Adrien began to work closely to find a cure for Mrs. Agreste’s condition; however, after a tragic mistake during their quest, the Butterfly Miraculous once again fell into the wrong hands. Shortly after, a new, more ruthless Hawkmoth rose to infamy.

Today, Ladybug and Chat Noir still fight side-by-side, their bond stronger than before the reveal. However, the secret of their identities no longer belonged exclusively to each other and Gabriel Agreste. Through Ladybug’s leadership, Paris’ team of heroes formed a bond of mutual trust. She brought them together just as King Arthur assembled his knights at the round table. To Ladybug, the other holders were not her subordinates; instead, they were equals in her eyes. They knew one another in and out of the masks, rendering them a formidable team against the destruction left in the wake of the city’s new supervillain.

Even though Ladybug had a battalion of superheroes at her disposal, she still preferred the company of her beloved Chaton. He is, was, and forever will be her partner--they were balanced in every way.

They listened to each other, so when Marinette suggested that Adrien try going to therapy, he complied. He worked hard with his therapist to not only heal his relationship with his father but to strengthen his friendships with others, as well. So, when Adrien suggested that he and Marinette spend time with the other person’s best friend, she was not surprised.

“Think about it, Bugaboo. How well do you know Nino?” he asked, taking a seat next to her on the living room couch in his apartment.

Marinette cleared her throat. “Uhm...we went to school together when we were little, but I didn’t start hanging out with him until you and Alya came along.”

Adrien nodded his head. “And I don’t know Alya outside of our double dates and...well...I guess we also spend time together when we...you know…”

She offered him a sideways glance. “Become magical superheroes who save Paris from destruction every week?”

He smiled and clapped his hands together. “Yes! That. When we do that.”

“Okay...let me get this straight. You want me to spend a day alone with Nino, and you want to spend a day alone with Alya. Did I get that right?”

“That’s what I am proposing, yes.”

Marinette scooted closer to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his torso. “I like it.”

Adrien grinned, looped his arms around her tiny form, and pressed her into his chest. “You do?”

She giggled and craned her neck towards his face. Marinette gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. “Yes, Chaton. I think it’s a wonderful idea. When were you planning on putting this little plan into action?”

“I was kind of hoping we could do it this Saturday.”

“Wow...that soon, huh? I'll have to see if they're available.”

“I may have already talked to Nino...and he agreed. He and I already came up with activities to do with both of you.”

Marinette laughed. “Awww! That's so cute, Minou! Of course, you would already have something planned.”

Adrien nuzzled the top of her head. “I felt like you and Alya deserved to have a good time if we decided to do this.”

She pulled away and gazed into her boyfriend’s eyes. The look of sincerity on his face melted Marinette’s heart.

“Come here, Chaton,” she whispered.

Adrien smiled and bit his lip as he slowly closed the gap between them. Even though they had kissed hundreds of times throughout their relationship, Marinette still experienced an explosion of warmth and happiness when their lips met. She may be twenty-five now, but every time Adrien showed her this kind of affection, she turned into the blushing schoolgirl she once was years ago.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he said, finally pulling away.

She lightly pressed his nose with her index finger. “Not as much as I love you.”

They allowed their noses to touch as they stared into each other’s eyes and laughed. Marinette started to lean in for another kiss when a small, gravelly voice interrupted.

“Excuse me, but what are Tikki and I supposed to do all day while you two are off galavanting with other people?” Plagg complained, zooming into view.

“For you, it’s not going to be any different than a day that Marinette and I spend together,” Adrien responded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Plagg,” Marinette began, “you do realize that Adrien will be spending the day with Alya right?”

“So?” Plagg retorted.

“So...I thought you would be excited to spend the day with Trixx,” Marinette shrugged.

The Kwami’s eyes grew wide and he turned towards his holder. “Wait...you mean to tell me that Wayzz and Tikki won’t be coming with us?”

“No, Plagg. That’s the whole point. It will be Alya and I together while Nino and Marinette do something else,” Adrien explained with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Tikki flew over and joined the conversation. “Plagg, I know what you’re thinking, and you are expected to be on your best behavior. We can’t have a repeat of last time.”

Marinette shot her Kwami a concerned look. “What exactly do you mean by ‘last time’?”

The tiny red being glared at her counterpart. “When Plagg and Trixx are alone together, they tend to get a little carried away. Have you ever heard of a place called Pompeii?”

Adrien buried his face in his hands and sighed deeply. “I know there’s a story there, but I really don’t want to know what happened.”

“Yes, same,” Marinette agreed, “Especially after the time you told us what happened to the lost city of Atlantis.”

The pair looked at each other and shuddered.

“It still gives me nightmares,” she whispered into Adrien’s ear.

“I know, Princess,” he said, lightly kissing the top of her head, “Me, too.”

“Jeez, you two are dramatic,” Plagg noted while rolling his eyes.

“Are we though?” Adrien asked, “When you and Tikki told us that one of our ‘yet to be unlocked’ powers was telepathic communication with our Kwamis, maybe you two should not have led with that specific memory.”

Plagg poked Adrien in the chest with his paw. “It was meant to teach you a lesson.”

His chosen crossed his arms. “Never trust a floating, black cat who claims to have the ability to solve a rodent problem with magic?”

Marinette elbowed Adrien in the side, eliciting a soft “hey” from her boyfriend.

“They wanted us to learn that even when we have the best intentions, things can still go wrong,” Marinette stated plainly, “and my Miraculous Magic won’t always be there to clean up the mess.”

Adrien reached his arms around Marinette, pulling her back into his embrace. “I know, but you and I can overcome any obstacle as long as we’re together.”

“If that’s the case, are you sure you want to spend a whole day apart, kitty?” she asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I think we’ll manage,” he said, pulling her even closer, “Besides, it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” Plagg cackled, “especially considering we’ll be leaving behind Captain Buzzkill and Lord Limp Noodle for the day.”

Tikki flew over to her counterpart and swatted at his arm. “Don’t talk about Wayzz that way!”

Plagg stuck out his tongue. “You are proving my point, Captain Buzzkill.”

“You are irritating. I think I prefer ‘Sugarcube’.”

“But you still love me...Sugarcube.”

The red Kwami softened her expression “And I always will, Stinky Sock. However, that doesn’t change the fact that you and Trixx need to be careful. I’m sure Marinette and Adrien would appreciate it if Paris was still in one piece by the end of the day.”

“Now that’s not fair. We were young back then. I’ve learned to control my powers...kind of...and I’m sure Trixx has, as well. I only broke half of Paris when Ladybug and I fought Style Queen all those years ago. I’d say that’s a big improvement.”

“I’m still not completely convinced.”

“Do you really think I’d do anything to mess up their day on purpose?”

“Need I remind you of the Great Molasses Flood in Boston?”

“Ah, yes...the Boston Molassacre,” Plagg stared fondly into the distance before snapping himself out of his reverie, “Okay, you got me, but that was one time...and it was hilarious. People in the United States are still laughing about it today.”

“People DIED, Plagg!” Tikki retorted, “And what about the Great Emu War of 1932?”

“Don’t peg that one on me! That was all Trixx, and Australia was still in one piece when it was over.”

“You definitely didn’t help when you encouraged her to make everyone believe that they saw millions of emus that weren’t there.”

“There were still a ton of emus that were actually there.”

“That’s not the point, Plagg!”

Marinette plucked her Kwami out of the air and cupped Tikki in her hands. “How about we all promise to be on our best behavior on Saturday. None of us will do anything reckless,” she turned to Plagg, “or destructive. Agreed?”

The black Kwami groaned. “Ugh! Fine.”

Adrien poked him. “And I will be making sure that he follows through on that promise.”

Marinette laughed. “Thanks, kitty. I’ll be sure to talk to Alya about Trixx; however, I’m pretty sure she can handle anything her Kwami throws at her.”

“Thanks, Bugaboo,” Adrien gave her a gentle squeeze.

“I know it will be a fun day...especially since you’ve got it all planned out!”

He scratched behind his neck and released a nervous chuckle. “That’s what I’m hoping for!”

***

Adrien awoke on Saturday morning in a panicked sweat. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Today was quite possibly the most important day of his life.

“Good morning, lover boy!” Plagg teased with a cackle.

The disgruntled blond buried his face in his hands. “I can't do this, Plagg!”

“Don’t you dare feed me that nonsense! You have been head over heels since the day you met the girl. You are doing this, kid.”

“What if I forget what I'm going to say? Marinette will think I'm weird. She��s going to hate me and never want to be with me again. She’ll quit working for my dad’s company and cut off all connections to me. Then, I'll never see her again, and I'll be alone forever...FOREVER, PLAGG! Do you know how long forever is?”

“Look at me, Adrien.” Plagg used his paw to lift his chosen’s head by the chin. “You seem to be forgetting what your little bug was like before she knew you were Chat Noir. The girl could barely string two words together when she tried to have a conversation with you. She loves you. I don't think I've ever seen two people love each other more than you and Marinette in all my years of existence. So, yes, to answer your question, I do know how long forever is.”

“But…”

Plagg cut him off. “No! No ’buts’. I know how important this day is not only for you but for everyone involved. I am going to do everything in my power to help you pull this off.”

Adrien took a deep breath. “Thank you, Plagg. I can always count on you.”

“Now, my first act of service for the day is to tell you to go take a shower. You may still be a model and the future CEO of Gabriel, but you smell like a two-day-old cheeseburger that got left inside a hot car.”

“Well, I was kind of nervous last night. I guess I did sweat a little.”

“A little! Your perspiration created a new tributary to the Seine in your bed sheets. Get clean, and go get your girl.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head. He threw back his covers and walked into the bathroom. After a half hour, he was showered, dressed, and ready to go. He checked his pocket to make sure he had everything he needed.

“It’s there,” he thought to himself, “There’s no turning back now, Agreste.”

Adrien walked over to the mirror, fixed his hair one last time, and walked out the door. As he stepped into the cold, damp November air, he felt the reality of the day hit him once again. Remembering Plagg’s words, he shook off his apprehension and continued on his journey.

Both couples agreed to meet at a cafe before splitting off into pairs for the rest of the day. Upon entering, Adrien saw Nino, Alya, and Marinette happily chatting at a table near the window.

“About time you showed up, Sunshine! I was starting to think that my date bailed on me!” Alya said jokingly.

Adrien laughed nervously and offered her a tense smile. “No, I’m here! Sorry for making you worry.”

Marinette got up from her seat and walked over to her boyfriend. She touched his cheek and gave him a worried look.

“What’s wrong, Minou?” she whispered into his ear.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Why would you think something is wrong?”

“Please don’t lie to me. You’re acting strange...well, stranger than you usually do.”

“Bugaboo, I’m okay. Really...I promise that I’m fine. Maybe I’m a little tired.”

“Are you still up for today? I can tell Nino and Alya that we need to go. Then, we can go to your place and cuddle for the rest of the day.”

Adrien could feel his confidence growing. He bit his lip and shot her his signature “Chat Noir” grin.

“As tempting as that sounds, Princess, we already have plans for today, and I would hate to let down our friends. However, maybe we could move those cuddling plans to later. It sounds like a paw-some way to spend our evening together,” he purred into her ear.

She giggled and gave him a small peck on the lips. “There’s my flirty kitty.”

“Hey!” Alya called over to them, “Excuse me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but I believe Mr. Model is my date for the day. You can have him back when I’m done.”

Marinette turned to her best friend, scrunched her nose, stuck out her tongue.

“Oh, very mature,” Alya said rolling her eyes.

Adrien took Marinette by the hand and led her back to the table. He pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit down before taking his seat. He then grabbed her hand under the table and gently stroked her knuckles with his thumb.

“I expect to get the same kind of chivalrous treatment today, Agreste,” Alya said with a light chuckle.

“Am I not good enough for you?” Nino retorted, feigning hurt.

“You are perfect for me,” Alya responded, “However, it’s not every day I get to spend time with a living breathing protagonist of a romance. He’s like dessert. It’s nice to have every once in a while, but not all the time.”

Marinette laughed and poked Adrien with her elbow. “I guess it’s a good thing I have a sweet tooth then! I’m always up for dessert.”

Adrien could feel his insides turning to mush. He loved Marinette so much that it hurt. She wasn’t just his world--she was the center of his universe. Like a black hole, she was both beautiful and dangerous. It was scary how easy it was to love her. Nonetheless, he happily allowed himself to get caught in her gravitational pull. She was an enigmatic force of nature, and he felt privileged to be a part of her life.

He leaned over and allowed their noses to touch. From their point of contact, he felt a blossoming of warmth that created an involuntary smile on his face. He sighed happily.

“Sometimes I forget how perfect you two are for each other, and then I see you do stuff like that,” Alya remarked.

“As much fun as all of this is to watch, don’t we have a schedule to keep? If I’m correct, Marinette and I have an activity starting soon,” Nino said, giving his best friend a wide-eyed look.

Adrien looked at the time on his phone. “Oh jeez, yeah you do. My first activity with Alya doesn’t start for another hour, but you two need to get going.”

Marinette stood up without letting go of her boyfriend’s hand. He got up, as well, and pulled her into a loving embrace.

Adrien pulled away and brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face. “Have fun today, Princess. I will see you later when we all meet up for dinner.”

“You have fun, too, kitty. I love you.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you, too...so much,” he said, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Behind them, Alya gave Nino a lingering kiss goodbye. She whispered something into his ear and flicked his hat. He responded with a laugh and kissed her again before moving next to Marinette.

“Are you ready?” he said with a cheerful expression.

“Yup!” Marinette responded, “Let’s get to it!”

Nino and “date for the day” waved to their significant others, turned towards the door, and walked out of the cafe. Once the pair turned the corner, Adrien and Alya returned to the table.

“So, Agreste,” Alya smirked, “Nino told me that you already have everything planned. What kind of fun are we going to have today?”

Adrien breathed out deeply and gave Alya a serious look. “I have to tell you something. You have not been told the whole truth about the nature of today’s events. Nino knows, but I had to keep you in the dark until now...for...reasons.”

Alya raised her right eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Uhm...yes. I’m sorry if you were expecting to have fun today, but you’re actually here because I need your help.”

“Okay...how about you tell me what’s going on, and we’ll start from there.”

Adrien pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and put it on the table. He opened it, revealing a white gold ring with three princess cut diamonds in the middle.

Alya’s eyes grew wide. She gasped and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

“How could you possibly think that this wasn’t going to be fun?!” she exclaimed, “This is going to be THE MOST FUN.”

——————————————————————————————

Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following my other stories. You are all wonderful! (A “Chat for a Day” update is coming soon.)

This idea had been rattling around my brain for a while, and I had to write it down.

Also, thank you to those who have left comments and asks on my other works. They make my heart feel full, and it fuels my passion to keep writing! (That and I love talking with all of you!)

——————————————————————————————

Next—>

AO3

Fanfiction.net

#The Best Friend Swap #Chapter 1 #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #Miraculous Fanfiction #fanfiction #ml fanfiction #ml fic #adrienette #ao3 #lovesquare #aged up #fluff #tooth rotting fluff

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shera-dnd · 5 years

Text

Cry Thunder

A bit late, but it is finally here. The great conclusion to Sidequest: Maelstrom

And once again I’m giving it a name that doesn’t make all that much sense, but sounds cool. Hope you all enjoy it.

As usual normal text means it happens in game and italicized text means it happens at the table

Travelling to Anauroch, The Great Sand Sea, had taken days of constant flight. It was still nothing compared to the months of walking, riding and flying that had taken them all over the north, but now their journey was finally nearing its end and with any luck so would the giant’s attack on the small folk. Glimmer knew things were hardly ever that simple, but she dared to hope.

Now that the lair of their enemy was so close she held onto the gifts of Serissa. An enchanted dragon slaying short sword and a Claw bearing the Wyrm rune. She knew those gifts would be the key to their victory and to impressing Hekaton, maybe even enough that he would allow her to spend time with Serissa.

“Can you stop thinking about fucking a giant? Just for like ten seconds” Catra complained. “I really don’t want to die here, because you couldn’t focus on the fight”

“I’m thinking about the romantic date we will have later and needing to see that is exactly what will keep me alive through this fight” Glimmer responded.

The GM sighed and shook their head “Regardless of what Glimmer is or isn't’ thinking about, the giants give each of you a potion of Giant Size. It lasts for 24 hours and allows you to fight” they cleared their throat and spoke in their giant voice “Like true storm giants.”

“I need no such potion to do so, Hekaton” Adora boasted “But if it means I can prove my superiority once again, I shall gladly drink it” And like that she chugged the contents of the bottle. Slowly growing to the size of her fellow storm giants, she now stared her king down face to face.

Entrapta did the same and so did Perfuma, but all others decided to wait until they had found their target. It wouldn’t do for them to become such massive targets before the battle even started.

Their worries were soon proven right as several boulders began raining from the sky as soon as the lair came into view. The ruins of an old amphitheater had been outfitted with several trebuchets that now targeted their giant companions.

“You fools are simply ridiculous” Catra mocked “Go kill whatever is shooting at you and save us the trouble of carrying your oversized corpses” With a quick wave of her hand she weaved a powerful spell, bending the space around her giant companions, yanking them through reality and placing each next to one of the trebuchets “That should take care of that.”

The giants made short work of whatever was attacking them and now surrounded a colossal a massive sinkhole - clearly the entrance to the dragon’s real lair - preparing to delve into its dark depths. Adora had no time for such silly rituals.

“IYMRITH! SHOW YOURSELF AND PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES! LET YOUR HEAD BE THE FINAL TRIBUTE TO PLACE MY NAME ATOP THE NEW ORDNING!” The giants did not seem to enjoy her last comment at all, but did nothing to stop her challenge.

Iymrith lost no time answering to the challenge, the evil dragon proving the weakness of her ego. With a loud roar she flew out of her lair and high up in the air. Adora joyfully laughed and promptly followed the beast. With a crack of thunder wings sprouted from her back and a halo of lighting formed around her head. She had quite literally flown into a fury.

None of them dared shoot as Adora and Iymrith entangled themselves mid air, for neither wished to harm one of their strongest warriors. Catra on the other hand held no such fears and knew her lover could more than handle anything they had to throw at her. Including the fireball she had prepared.

“As much as I appreciate your confidence in me, please don’t fireball us”

“Relax. You can tank that” Catra waved off “And besides, now your fight looks even more like a power metal album cover”

The GM got their attention again “Since you both missed the Saving Throw, it looks like you’ll both be plummeting down to your doom. Adora lands on the sand and takes quite a bit of damage, while Iymrith falls through the hole she emerged from. Everyone standing near the entrance rolls a Dexterity Save or the tremors make you fall down the hole too” They rolled a few dice of their own “Looks like Hekaton is the only one falling there. Too bad for the old king”

The battle that followed was bloody and brutal. Glimmer tore through the dragon’s defenses with the Wyrm Rune and nullified her magic; Bow, Catra and the giants pelted the monster with arrows, stones and spells; King Hekaton and Adora held the beast down so it would not escape; and Perfuma and Entrapta did their best to keep them all alive. Still the dragon proved to be a formidable foe and none of them left uscathed, even if Hekaton and Adora beared the brunt of the creature’s fury.

Though bloodied and battered King Hekaton seemed unfazed as he dragged himself out of the sinkhole. One of his bodyguard on the other hand “My king, we should return to Maelstrom immediately. Your wounds-”

“It would not do for my subjects to see me like this. Take my conch and return here with one of our healers. I’ll rest here and finish my business with our companions” He commanded and with a quick bow his bodyguards left. “Now, little ones, you have once again prove more capable than even the strongest of my kind. With that in mind I promise to do my best to build a future in which our people may finally work together and if there is any boon that you wish to ask of me it shall be granted”

Adora was the first to chime in “When the Ordning is restored I wish to hold my true place in it. As high as all other storm giants, so that my feats of power may one day place me above all of our kind”

“Isn’t that a little over dramatic, even for your character?” Catra asked

“Coming from Miss ‘save us the trouble of carrying your oversized corpses’. You sound like a cartoon villain” Adora responded

“Babe, I am a cartoon villain and that is why you love me so much”

“Well, while you two are busy being dramatic the rest of you notice the usual distortion of a Conch of Teleportation being used and a single storm giant returning. The giant unceremoniously shoves a giant sword through his king’s back. Ending his-”

“I use Aura of the Guardian to redirect the damage to me” Entrapta interrupted

Entrapta tumbled to the ground. Her body reducing to its usual proportions as both the potion’s magic and her life slipped away from her. Though there was no dent in her armor her body bled from a wound that was not hers. She had reached the end of her journey. Death would be her redemption.

“Trapta, I know death is the shortest road to redemption and you are playing an Oath of Redemption Paladin, but fuck that” Perfuma’s declaration was followed by gasps from the party “I’m not losing you to some stupid trope. You’re gonna be redeemed and live”

“I don’t think you have much to do” The GM commented “You have no more healing spells and it’s not like anyone ever has proficiency in medicine”

“No, but I still have Divine Intervention”

King Hekaton had been quick to kill the traitor, while the party gathered around Entrapta’s corpse. To most of them the truth had not settled in yet, but Perfuma actively struggled against it. She prayed to every god she could think of and called upon ever power she had, hoping that they would return Entrapta to her and when all her prayers failed and all that she had left were tears, she saw it. A deer with golden antlers walking through the desert. It approached them fearlessly and minded not the blood or the giants, it simply approached Entrapta and licked her wound.

Entrapta woke up with a giggle “Hello, friend, what are you doing so far away from home?” She asked, petting the furry creature “Hey, why is everyone so sad?” She was soon overwhelmed by the hugs and tears of her many friends, while the king just nodded in the distance. If they could even call their gods to their aid, then perhaps his won wouldn’t be so far behind. Perhaps there little folk really were the key to save his people, but those were thoughts for later, now they all could use some good rest.

#sidequest #maelstrom #catra #adora #catradora #glimmer #bow #perfuma #entrapta #pertrapta #dnd!au

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