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omgrachwrites · 3 years

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The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne. Royal AU.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Words: 2618

A/N: I’m going to start adding more angst, so be prepared, because the next chapter is going to be heavy!! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter Nine - Duty and Love

It was one of those crisp winter mornings in England, though the pale blue sky had been broken up by fluffy white clouds that held the promise of rain for the late afternoon. The thought did nothing to cheer you up. You and your husband decided to make the most of the beautiful weather and the rare chance to have breakfast together. Lily was spending time with James for the early hours of the morning.

It seemed the further along you got with your pregnancy, the less that she wanted to see you. But, you knew it wasn’t her fault, she wasn’t doing it to be malicious, and she had come to be your friend after your time in England. Sophia had also joined you for breakfast, she was looking much better recently, the glow had come back to her cheeks and there was that sparkle back in her eyes. It was such a joy for you to see.

Sirius’ squire, Johnathan had also joined you, he’d been a poor man who had swelled above his family’s station, and it was obvious that he liked Sophia. The admiration in his eyes was clear every time he looked at her.

You rested your cheek against Sirius’ firm chest as you looked over the veranda at the gardens. From here, you could see the twisting maze and beyond, there was your favourite reading nook, in the summer it had been nestled away by the sweet smelling bushes of lavender. It was so beautiful in the winter, everything encased and enchanted by a layer of snow, you had hardly seen snow before coming to England, and it had to be your favourite thing.

Sirius pressed a warm kiss to your cheek and you turned back to smile at him as he rested his hand on the swell of your stomach, “are you well, my love?” he murmured lovingly into your ear, just like he did when you were alone at night.

“Yes, I’m very well,” you beamed at him, you wanted to be gentle with his feelings, the both of you had a bit of a falling out this morning, it was over something silly. You’d been grumpy and he’d been argumentative. But, now you felt completely awful.

“Would you like a lemon tart, Lady Sophia?” Johnathan asked and offered her the plate.

You practically watched her face turn green as she clapped a hand over her mouth and ran out of the room. Sirius and Johnathan looked at you with shock marring their features. You sighed and got up from your seat, “I’ll go and see if she’s okay,” you kissed the top of Sirius’ head as you went after your friend.

You found her in her chambers, vomiting into a chamber pot, you sighed and stroked her hair, only speaking when she was finished, “what’s the matter?” you asked her gently as she wiped her mouth with a handkerchief.

Sophia groaned as she rested her head against the cold wall, “Your Highness,” she hesitated, heaving out a sigh, “I’m pregnant.”

You felt a jolt go straight to your heart at Sophia’s confession and you felt your mouth drop open as you stood there in shock. A child was an amazing gift, but what where the circumstances? Finally, you found your voice, “but Sophia, you’ve always been…” you trailed off.

Sophia’s voice was thick as she turned to face you with tears running down her rosy cheeks, “I know! I’ve always been smart enough not to play around with men; I didn’t even have my first kiss until we came to England. I wanted to save myself for marriage, but I,” she hesitated as she bit her lip, “I was so upset about Remus, and the man was so nice,” she sobbed and you pulled her into your arms.

“Oh, Sophia, it’s going to be okay.”

“Please don’t tell anyone, especially not the Queen,” she sniffled into your shoulder and you frowned.

Surely telling Lily would be the best course of action for her, “why not? She’ll be able to arrange a marriage between you and this man,” you couldn’t bring yourself to ask her who it was; “I know that you wanted to marry for love but he was kind wasn’t he? It’s easy to love a kind man,” you rubbed her back soothingly.

Sophia hiccupped before she pulled away from you and wiped her eyes, “he was kind and handsome,” she laughed a little, “but I can’t marry him.”

You frowned as you glanced at your friend and she had a guilty look on her face and it hit you all at once, “is he already married?” at your question, Sophia’s face crumpled and she let out a little sob.

You were angry, she knew better than this; she had to think of her reputation, and yours. But, right now the last thing that you wanted to do was make her feel worse. Instead, you cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears, “we’ll figure this out together.”

Sophia sniffled and gave you a weak smile, “thank you, Your Highness, and I’m so sorry, you’re pregnant too. I shouldn’t be giving you this type of stress.”

You shook your head as you bit your lip, “it’s no stress, but if Lily discovers it herself then I won’t lie for you,” you tried to say it as kindly as you could. You now had to think of your family, you couldn’t lose your place with the Queen.

“I understand,” Sophia muttered, though she looked scared.

You comforted your friend until it was time to attend to your duties, when you made ready to leave; Sophia reluctantly got to her feet and followed you out of the room. You assured Sirius and Johnathan that all was well before making your way to the Queen. Lily was in the parlour and as soon as you entered the room, you found that it was so warm from the roaring fire and you had to stop yourself from fainting.

You pulled yourself together and as gracefully as you could, you glided over to the Queen who looked up from her sewing. She beamed at you and you felt a sudden pang of guilt at the fact that you were concealing Sophia’s condition from her.

“Oh, Y/N! It’s good to see you, both of you,” she smiled at Sophia before looking back over at you as she pulled you into a sweet smelling hug.

“Your Majesty,” you smiled as she pulled away and held your hands.

“You’re my dearest friend Y/N, so I want to give you a day off once a week, I know you’ve still got a few months to go but you’ve been working so hard.”

You nodded a flush dusting along your cheeks, “I have been rather tired of late.”

Lily laughed sweetly and smiled at you kindly as she rested a warm hand against your stomach, gazing at it longingly, “there’s no reason to strain yourself Y/N, this is your child and I want to make sure you and it are completely healthy. I still need to sew your child’s baptism gown.”

At once, your eyes filled with tears at her sheer kindness and not for the first time, you were so glad that she wasn’t born into royalty, “thank you, Your Majesty,” you smiled as your voice broke.

“You’re welcome,” Lily pressed a kiss to your cheek, “now, go and be with your husband.”

You sank into a deep curtsey as you departed from the parlour. You loved working with the Queen, she was simply a joy to be around but you were glad that you could spend time with Sirius. It was in your chambers that you found the love of your life, lounging on your bed, reading a book.

As you walked in, he looked up with a raised eyebrow and grinned when he realised it was you and he opened his arms out to you, “have you been given the day off too?” the corners of his pink lips lifted in a teasing smile.

You nodded as you gave him a lingering kiss as you climbed into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you, protectively resting his big hands on your stomach; you loved it when he did that. You gazed up at him with a grin and giggled when he kissed the tip of your nose.

“So, what was wrong with Sophia? You didn’t say much earlier.”

You let out a sigh as you shrugged, pushing away the guilt as much as you could, “it must be a bug or something. I’m not entirely sure but she’s okay,” Sirius hummed out a response as he gently combed his fingers through your hair, closing his eyes, “tell me and our child a tale, Sirius.”

With his eyes still closed he smiled, “once upon a time, there was a beautiful Princess who was beloved by all. She was supposed to marry a King, she’d been promised to him since birth but something went wrong and she had to marry a dragon,” you felt him smile against your shoulder, “the Knights of the realm told her that the dragon was fearsome. The Princess wasn’t scared though, she was kind to the dragon and with each day that went by, the dragon fell more in love with her. On their wedding day, his new wife kissed him and he knew that he truly loved her. His love for her turned him back into a man.”

You giggled and looked at him, kissing his cheek, “the Princess knew that the Knights lied to her when they told her that the dragon was fearsome. He was the sweetest of creatures and it was only a matter of time before she fell in love with him too. To tell you the truth, the Princess didn’t want to marry the King, she was perfectly happy with her dragon.”

Sirius grinned at you with tears sparkling in his beautiful eyes and a slow smile spread across his handsome face, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too Sirius,” you muttered breathlessly as you captured his lips in a sweet kiss.

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The noise in the warm council chamber was too loud as everyone talked over each other; it was beginning to give Sirius a headache. He groaned quietly to himself as he massaged his temples. There was a rumour going around that it was in fact rebels in Cumbria, led by a man who called himself Lord Voldemort. What worried Sirius was the fact that he hadn’t heard from Regulus in a while and Sirius hoped that all was well.

Lucius Malfoy was looking determined as he leaned forwards, shouting the loudest, “Cumbria is calling for you to give up the throne, Your Majesty! We must sort this out ourselves since Regulus Black has been no help at all,” he glared at Sirius who only scowled in return.

James looked furious as he fixed Malfoy with a long stare, “who backs these rebels in Cumbria?”

Malfoy had the grace to bow his head and mutter, “Scotland, if you don’t give up the throne then they’ll declare war. I kept this information as contained as I could,” everyone fell silent and nervously looked at the King.

Sirius finally spoke up, “nobody knows who this Lord Voldemort is, we can’t go running off to war when we don’t know our enemy,” he thought of Y/N, he didn’t want to leave her without a husband and their child without a father.

James shook his head as he considered Sirius’ words, “people are dying now, we can’t afford to be idle,” he lowered his voice so only Sirius could hear him, “though, I loathe agreeing with Malfoy,” Sirius snickered and smirked.

“They say Lord Voldemort is a ghost,” Frank Longbottom started, “that he uses magic to meet his evil ends.”

Sirius swore beneath his breath as he raked a hand through his hair in frustration, magic was outlawed in England – and most of Europe – the penalty for using it was death. Only a fool would use magic to get back.

“How about we offer the Scots a marriage?” Malfoy asked, “if we can ally through marriage then they can crush the rebels in Cumbria, even they will honour an arrangement. What about your wife’s lady from Spain, the Lady Sophia?” he asked Sirius and Remus cut in before Sirius could reply.

Remus spoke through clenched teeth as his eyes flashed in anger, it was clear he still had feelings for Sophia, “we’re not handing Sophia to Scotland, her father is an extremely wealthy man. We need her dowry in England.”

James shook his head, “Remus is right, the only chance now is war. We need to use our men from France.”

As the Lords filed out of the council chambers, Sirius stomach curdled with nerves in preparation for what he had to tell his wife. James’ voice stopped him as he got to the door, “I’m sorry, my friend. I know Y/N is pregnant and you want to be there for her and your child. But we will not die, I promise you that.”

All that Sirius could muster was a small shaky smile as he walked out of the council chambers and onto the snow kissed grounds. He found Y/N looking across the frozen lake that sparkled like diamonds beneath the watery sunlight. He decided to break the tension as he stood to her side and took her cold hands in his, pressing a kiss to them.

“As children, James, Remus, Peter and I used to skate on this lake. I think that’s why I love winter so much,” he laughed but it sounded fake.

Y/N looked up at him and he saw with a jolt that her eyes were red like she’d been crying. She couldn’t know, not yet. Sirius’ heart started beating wildly, was something wrong with their baby?

“I know Sirius, Malfoy came walking out here, raving to another Lord about the fact that they have to go to war with Scotland. It would be silly of me to assume that you’re not going to,” she sniffled.

Sirius stroked her cheek and pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as he felt her wrap her arms around him tightly, “I’m sorry.”

“You promised,” she mumbled, “you promised that you would always be there, I can’t take it if you die.”

Sirius felt his eyes well up with tears, the last thing he ever wanted to do was leave her but he had to do his duty, “this is war Y/N, I don’t have a choice. If I could be by your side every day for the rest of my life then I would be. I’m not going to die, I promise. I’ll be right back for you.”

“When do you leave?” she asked as she looked up at him and Sirius bit his lip as he pressed his lips against her forehead.

“The end of the week.”

Y/N choked out a sob as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, “you had better come back to me Sirius,” she held onto him tightly as if she was scared to let him go, “you had better come back to meet our child. I’ll never forgive you if you die Sirius.”

Sirius let out a little laugh at her passionate attitude, “I will be back, because I would walk through hell to be back at your side. I promise that I’ll come back to you and I will meet our child. I’ll be back,” he cupped her cheeks and pulled her into a passionate kiss that was full of longing and the promise of tomorrow.

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@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @siriuslyjanhvi @pregnant-piggy @lindatreb @mabelle-cherie @hxrgreeves @britishspidey @mads-bri @classicrocketqueen @sxtansqueen @hufflepuffzutara @missmulti @bruxa0007 @ourstarsailor @fific7 @galwithbluethoughts @2410slb @sunles @krismeunicornbaobei @theincredibledeadlyviper @deathkat657

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ghostofnibelheim · 3 years

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azure-steel:

It had all happened so fast, so fast that his head was still reeling, so fast that he could still feel the inferno of Nibelheim torching his skin, could still see the smoke rising and filling his lungs. A blanket against the sky, blocking out the sun, choking the life out of everything.

Everything around him was dying.

The world was tilting, everything Cloud ever knew and loved was crashing into the corners of reality itself, and even as he came to in the midst of the chaos, he is unable to determine the screams he could hear in the near distance were actually his own.

Even as he makes his way to the reactor, as he’s brandishing that broadsword, even as he plunges it into the yielding flesh of the man who’d taken everything from him in this unfathomable moment of sheer madness, there was no power to be salvaged when staring into the shimmering face of grief.

“How could you?! I worshipped you! How could you do this?! Sephiroth!!”

How is Cloud hoping to reason with this lunatic, did he honestly believe he’d be garnered any answers?

“You’ve taken everything! My home! My mother! Give them back!!”

Holding fast against the hilt of Zack’s blade does he demand knowledge, of which he knows he’ll never truly be granted. All he knows for certain is that it hurts, and that agony birthed from crippling loss and white-hot unadulterated rage, it was all he knew; in this moment there was nothing else.

Nothing but anger.

“Give them back to me, you bastard!!”

Cloud would attempt to twist that blade now protruding through Sephiroth’s gut, but again time gets away from him and already is he skewered along the formidable edge of the Masamune. The pain is enough to have him cry out; hot, unbearable, fracturing. And he’s laying there so suddenly on his back, the buster sword so far out of reach though Cloud still attempts to make a grab for it, feebly as the strength slowly drains from his body. All the man had to do was lift and he’d cleave Cloud in half, though it seems the wound inflicted upon the former war hero is taking it’s toll. So visibly does Sephiroth falter in that moment, unable to even lift Cloud’s slighter frame and dropping the prize he’s retrieved from the bowels of the reactor.

He’s so cold now, so very cold, hands grasping the steel of Sephiroth’s blade sunk into his belly, and he shivers against the hard freezing reactor floor, watching with an air of glee as Sephiroth collapses next to him. Cloud is struggling to breath, slowly drowning in the blood rising into his throat as it puffles out of his mouth in hot slimy bubbles, but he’s determined not to die before that bastard. He wants to watch as the life drains out of his eyes, wants to see him suffering as he was.

Even as the darkness creeps in around the edges of his eyes, he will not die before him, but he’s so tired.

He’s so tired…

Fighting the black, all consuming, it was a battle Cloud lost so very quickly.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore.

“- here soon.”

“We’re almost done-”

Muffled noises rang in his ears, slowly stirring his senses. Broken shreds of conversations.

“-all the bodies. He said we should take his too.”

“No. He’s not dead, and we still need him to-”

Who was speaking…? He tried to open his eyes, but a blinding light forced them shut. Weakly, he moved his head away in avoidance.

“But the President-”

“You can tell the President, I said so.” A sinister, more familiar voice reached him, sharpening his senses into alert. His body jolted.

“Professor? H-He’s waking up…!”

“Hmmmm? What, oh, you stitched him up?”

“It was to stop the bleeding…”

“…Alright, well. Don’t overdo it.” The familiar voice was just above him now. A shadow cast before him, shielding him from the blinding light. “If he recovers too much, there’s no stopping him. Stick to the bare minimum treatment, for the harvest to stay fresh. Heeheeheehee…”

That laugh. Sephiroth’s eyes opened, quickly. Squinting at the pale face who observed him behind round, glinting glasses.

“Hojo…?”

“Rise and shine, my boy.” The doctor leered down at him. “Congratulations on your early retirement. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to skip on the farewell party.”

He hated to be called that way. The man always had, ever since his childhood. It hadn’t stopped Sephiroth from growing up with a sheer spite for the researcher.

The SOLDIER tried to rise, at least move away. But he couldn’t. His body wasn’t responding. Everything down the neckline was paralyzed. He could sense his torso was bare, but he could do little more than just wander with his eyes. His mouth still tasted like blood. “What…?”

“Such a shame you won’t be able to enjoy your pension. I heard it’s pretty high.” Hojo had moved to a station of surgery tools beside him. Sephiroth finally recognized the room… it was the underground laboratory underneath Shinra Manor.

When he didn’t respond, Hojo flicked him an entertained look, preparing a syringe with great care.

“Fallen in action, they said.” He continued, seemingly amused by the subject enough to explain unprompted. “You should be happy. Your moment of stardom has ended in a flash. You’ll still be a hero, to the eyes of many.”

Now he was starting to remember. The fog in his mind was clearing, if only in part. Genesis’ words. All his studying, in this very room. He had uncovered the truth. He was no hero…

He was the chosen one.

“…Where is my Mother….?”

“Yes, I saw what you did back in there. But rest assured, Sephiroth: your mother is dead, just as I told you.”

“…No. No, you lied to me. I am….”

“We’re monsters.” Genesis’ voice reverberated in his mind.

“I am Cetra.”

“My boy, my boy….!” Hojo singsonged, returning by his side. His head shook as he addressed him in a condescending manner. “You are no Cetra. You can’t speak to the Planet, remember? We’ve tried a lot when you were a child, didn’t we? It didn’t work.”

Slitted pupils shrunk, transfixed in shock on the researcher. Just like that, doubt was seeded. Freshly built certainties were cracking and crumbling. No… he refused to believe him. This man, he had lied all his life to him. He knew where he came from, and yet never said anything. Let him fester in doubt and countless questions for two whole decades without the slightest concern. And now, he laughed in his face.

“You’ve got time to let that sink in.” Hojo seemed to read his thoughts, shrugging lightly with a sneer, before moving to push the large needle into his side. “Of course, you’re still pretty special. A failed experiment, but you did pretty great as our poster child, didn’t you? And don’t worry… You’ve still got some purpose here.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, mouth pressing into a thin line at the sharp pain. The bastard was doing something to him without the slightest amount of anaesthetic, taking advantage of his paralysis.

“Look at these pretty liver cells.” The old man chuckled that irritating laugh under his nose, tapping the syringe with a satisfied look. Handing it over to a nearby assistant. “Start with these.”

A failed experiment. A perfect monster. Of all the things he had been told of being, he couldn’t understand nor like either. Had this truly been the reason of his existence all along? He was just the whim of a pathetic human being. A product of greed and playing God.

All so far from the grandiose role he had convinced himself of being. Could he really accept that?

His mind was miles away, eyes autonomously following the movements in the room. The assistant of Hojo who had his cells, was he going to be giving that to Genesis? Had Hojo been in cahoots with him too, after all?

He watched him move across the room, and only then he noticed the large tanks shining with mako light within. More of those pods to produce abominations, like Angeal’s and Genesis’?

Sephiroth’s eyes opened slightly, recognizing Zack’s reflection into one of them. And the other was….?

His vision was obstacled again. Hojo had returned. Another syringe, this one to be injected into his bicep.

“That will be enough for today, my boy.” His smile was sinister, in the shape of a crescent moon, the reflection of the bright light beside him whitening the surface of his round glasses.

The fallen hero felt the burning torpor of the sleeping potion run through his veins, and for once, he welcomed the embrace of sleep. Anything, to escape the nightmare of his existence.

#01B || This goes on your permanent record. [IC: Sephiroth]#12A || You belong to me. [Cloud Strife]#04 || Four Seasons [Divergent Megaverse]#04t3 || Fall of Angels [Thread]#azuresteel #azure-steel #tw: blood

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brutal-nemesis · 4 years

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Crackwhump III: Audience Participation Edition

Thanks to everyone who sent in questions :D

As usual, I would like to formally apologize for the SHEER level of stupidity

Now for the Reddit AMA:

From anon: “Corvus are you sure you don't want to at least bite thee iron serpent? Even just to see what it tastes like? It would also be gnarly if you found out your strength surpassed that of the great serpent and you broke free of your shackles, ready to reign terror on those who slighted you.”

I mean I can try. Okay, I tried it and it didn’t work and also my teeth hurt now. That did not taste good. I don’t recommend.

From @legallylibra: “Corvus I would like to hear more about the EGG boys”

Oh, hella lit. There are a lot of us in the frat, so I’m just gonna tell you about the ones I’m camping with right now.

Cam: This guy is WILD. Anytime you want someone to break into an abandoned gas station or boil Tang with, Cam is your man. He helps me pull pranks on our bros all the time, like that one time we accidentally donated Sam’s skateboard to charity.

Riley and Jonesy: These two are basically the same person. I thought they were like, connected by destiny, since they said they’d had the same tattoo since birth, but I later found out they actually got the tattoos after they were born. They’re big hockey guys and they’re always finishing each other’s sentences. You can’t play Cards Against Humanity with both of them though cuz they’ll just keep giving each other the win.

Jarrod: He’s the biggest gamer of all of us. Anytime we play FIFA or Mariokart he dominates, man. He’s horrible at Jackbox games though. The guy is NOT funny, even when he’s drunk. He always laughs at his own jokes and we all just kinda sit there.

From @dramaticcollapse: “Would you rather fight 1 horse-sized duck or 10 duck-sized horses?”

Duck sized horses all the way, man. I’ll just borrow my boy Riley’s hockey stick and go to town on the little glue boys. Easy win since they automatically die if you break their legs.

From anon: “are you gay”

I’m totally straight dude. Nothing against the BLT community though! I see people eating peanuts on campus all the time and, like, love is love, ya know?

From @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi: “QUESTION CORVUS: What's your go to slurpee flavor??”

Blue razz all the way. It’s my favorite fruit, even though they never seem to have it at the store.

“Are you afraid of the great beyond??“

Nah man. All that’s out there in space is a chocolate donut that keeps multiplying itself and will eventually suffocate everything, which’ll be kind of a baller way to go.

“How many lizards have you caught?”

With my hands? 27. With my feet? 2. With my mouth? That’s a secret ;)

“Fried gator or frog legs? (i'm on the fried gator side)”

Gator gang rise up! It’s like if there was a chicken version of LaCroix that was ocean flavored.

“How many numbers are there?”

2 billion, since that’s how high the calculator on my phone goes. At least I think so. Flynn took my phone, so I was without the internet for like, eight hours, until I hacked into his laptop to do this lol.

“Opinion on shoes?”

Not gonna lie, I think they should be optional for like, 90% of places. They’re just not a vibe, man.

“How many states are there?”

42 because that’s the number of presidents we’ve had, duh.

“What kind of car do you drive?”

A gray Jeep named Vivian. She’a a trouper, let me tell you. Drives on those swampy back roads like they’re nothing.

“When was the last time you drank just plain water?”

I can’t count that high on my fingers.

“How's the weather there?”

Cold as balls. I don’t know how the hell that stupid surfer dude is sitting out there in just swim trunks. He doesn’t even look cold! And he keeps sticking his hands in the snow. Honestly, I’m only grateful to be in here cuz it’s heated. Camping is way colder than I thought it would be.

“Are you happy with your place in the universe?”

Technically no, but I will say this couch is hella comfy. If I could be on this couch with my boys playing some COD and also not chained to the wall, that would be ideal. So I guess I’m happy with my place in the universe, like physically, because couch, but not the whole “kidnapped” part of it.

“Why are you the way that you are?”

Damn bro, you my mom? She used to ask me that all the time lmao. For real though, I think it’s because they started putting fluoride in the water.

“I love you.”

Uh...do I like, know you, bro? I mean thanks for asking me all the questions and everything but like, chill (unless you’re that girl in the apartment above me. In that case, hey).

From @galaxywhump: “Corvus, how long do you think it will take your bros to find you?”

Lowkey I’m kinda the brains of the group so I’m a little worried they’ll just assume I was eaten by a mountain goat or something. Also our flight back to Florida leaves in four days and I don’t know if they’ll be able to do it before then. It’s alright though, I can get away from this surfer dude myself. I just need to do something really un-vegan to scare him. Assuming he’s vegan. If not I’m screwed.

#flynn is not vegan lol #crackwhump #corvus #the surfer whumper #flynn isn't even in this but that's like the series name I think #thanks y'all let's do this again sometime #i think i'm funny af part three #i wrote something

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australiancarisi · 4 years

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Secrets, Sonny Carisi ~ Part 5

You are the newest detective at SVU, things are great until things from your past come back to haunt you. Look at me starting a new story when I have a million stories to be written… oh well. Also, I know my stories are very dialogue-heavy, I’m working on it Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Also posted on ao3 Words: 2032

“Ra-Rafael... what are you doing here?” Liv stuttered. The squad hadn’t seen him since his trial, he looked the same besides the small beard he had grown. Silence fell over the precinct as you stared at him.

“Why... how...” you turned to Nick “you called him too?” You didn’t yell, you didn’t even look mad, you were just over it.

“You weren’t returning my calls, I was afraid you were hurt. I figured he’d know” Nick sighed “y/n-“

“- I can’t do this” you shook your head and quickly walked out of the squad room. You just had to get out of there, you couldn’t deal with them all staring at you.

“I’ll go” Rafael and Nick both said at the same time.

“No, I will. I think the two of you have done enough... whatever you’ve done” Sonny held his hands up stopping anyone from following you before slowly going after you.

“Right now I’m really confused” Fin spoke breaking the silence.

“You think your confused” Kat mumbled

“Can someone please explain?” Amanda asked looking between Nick and Rafael. “How the hell are you involved in all this?

“Y/n is my little sister” Rafael sighed

“Since when? I thought you were an only child?” Fin asked

“Since my mother birthed her” Rafael snapped before taking a breath to calm down. “She moved to LA when she was 19 and joined the academy”

“She’s a Diaz though” Amanda said

“She was born a Barba, she legally changed her name to our abuela’s when she was 15. When she found out the type of man our father was... She wanted me to change mine too but I told her it was stupid, it’s just a name. She didn’t see it that way” Rafael looked at Nick “thank you for calling”

“I don’t care what she says, I will always keep her safe, it’s my job” Nick nodded

“You do it better than me” he mumbled

“Why isn’t she safe?” Kat asked, asking the question that was on Amanda and Fin’s minds as well.

“She didn’t move to New York by choice, I sent her” Declan said making his presence known “needed to get her out of LA, send her home to New York and I saw there was an opening here at SVU, I knew she’d be safe here” Declan said

“You still haven’t answered the question, why isn’t she safe?” Amanda demanded.

“She moved to LA with her boyfriend Tate...” Rafael began

You paced around the crib trying to calm down. You felt your anxiety levels rise more and more as you paced around the beds. You wanted to scream, but screaming in a police station is not the best idea. You scrunched your eyes as you heard the door open.

“Go away Rafael”

“It’s not Rafael” Sonny said quietly coming into the room and shutting the door. You turned to him. “Y/n what is going on? Why haven’t you said any-“ Sonny stopped as you ran to him and wrapped your arms around his chest. You held onto him tight “hey, hey doll it’s okay, don’t cry” you hadn’t even realised you were crying.

“I’m sorry”

“What are you sorry for?” Sonny said Into your hair

“For causing drama, for not telling you about Murphy or Nick... or Rafael” you sighed collecting yourself “for not telling you a lot of things”

“Its fine Doll, you’ll tell me when your ready”

“I don’t deserve you. I know everything about you. I know about your ex-girlfriends and about you jumping around as a detective and going to law school. I’ve met your parents, your sisters, nieces and nephews, your grandparents and your cousins and you haven’t even met my mum or knew that I had a brother let alone him being your old ADA-“

“None of that matters. You know what I know?” Sonny asked

“What?”

“I know that I love you. I know that you can’t sleep with pants on but have to have a blanket. I know that you would eat ice cream and pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner if it was socially acceptable. I know that you care so much about our victims and will go above and beyond to give them the justice they deserve. I know that you could sleep for 12 hours and still be tired” Sonny put his fingers under your chin and lifted it to make to look up at him. You looked into his baby blues. You could see in his eyes that he meant everything that he was saying “And most importantly I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake up and go to bed with you as long as you’ll have me. I want to be the person you come to when you need someone. I want you on your best days and on your worst, I know enough”

“Even when I’m being annoying?” you whispered

“Especially when your annoying” Sonny smiled before he kissed you. You felt all the tension in your body just melt away. “Better?” You nodded and kissed him again.

“Is he still out there?”

“I don’t think he’s gonna leave without seeing you... any of them” Sonny said “Doll... I know I said you’d tell me when your ready but... is something wrong? You’ve been acting strange for a while”

“I’m always strange”

“Stranger then usual then” Sonny smiled “I just wanna make sure you're safe”

“Come sit” you took his hand and sat down on one of the beds. It was time, it was finally time to come clean. You couldn’t handle this on your own anymore “So you know I moved from New York to LA when I was 19 and I joined the academy but what you don’t know is I moved with my boyfriend Tate... we met in school started dating when we were 16. Mami and Rafael hated him... I left them... I left my Abuelita to follow him. He was the one that wanted to move. He didn’t want me to become a cop but I knew I had to. I don’t know what Rafael told you about our dad... if he told you anything...”

“Not a lot just that he wasn’t a great guy” Sonny softly spoke. Your dad was a sore spot for you and Rafael so I didn’t surprise you that Rafael didn’t speak about him.

“Not a great guy is putting it lightly” you chuckled bitterly “I idolised Rafi growing up, the age gap is bigger than most but it didn’t matter, Rafi never made me feel like the stupid little sister. I wanted to be just like him when I was little but I quickly realised I wasn’t smart enough to be a lawyer so here I am a cop instead”

“So it was your dad and Rafael that made you want to be a cop?”

“Yep” you nodded “Tate was so against it. Said that girls shouldn’t be cops, that I wouldn’t be strong enough to do it”

“Clearly he didn’t know you” you smiled sadly at him

“He didn’t come to my academy graduation. He was too busy... apparently sitting on the couch at home is really time-consuming”

“I’m not going to like where this is going am I?”

“Probably not... I got partnered with Nick straight out of the academy. He told about his time here and we bonded over how annoying Rafi can be” you giggled “he was unofficial big brother, taught me everything about being a good cop. Tate didn’t like that I was partnered with a man... I don’t know what he thought because he didn’t like women police officers. Tate couldn’t have cared when I made detective, he didn’t care about anything I did. Nick knew... Nick knew early on that the relationship was bad, he tried to tell me and I didn’t listen”

“Y/n-“

“Nick noticed the bruises, he tried to get me out... he tried to scare Tate but it didn’t work. And he was my emergency contact so every time I wound up at the hospital he’d get called”

“How often did you go to hospital?” Sonny asked, his hands played with yours in your lap.

“I lost count... the worst he did was dislocating my shoulder before Murphy got a restraining order put out for me. It took him 2 weeks to violate it... he found me at the grocery store, threw me around... he broke 3 ribs, dislocated my shoulder again, black eye, a bunch of bruises... you know” you shrugged. “I’d convinced Nick and Murphy not to arrest him but they weren’t going to let him get away this time”

“Good. They should have arrested him the moment he laid a hand on you. He doesn’t get to do that” Sonny was getting mad, you could see him trying to stay calm but it was hard.

“I begged them not to, he was my boyfriend. It didn’t matter that my mum, my brother, my abuela didn’t like him. I didn’t care about that because he was my first ever boyfriend my first love... my first everything”

“He didn’t... please tell me he didn’t-“

“No, no he never did anything sexually, it was just physical” Sonny breathed a sigh of relief “he got 2 years with parole in a year with good behaviour, which then got lowered to 10 months”

“2 years? Are you kidding me?”

“You know as well as I do that the justice system is not always fair... when I was healed Murphy told me he got me a transfer here. Nick had always told me how much he loved SVU so I was excited to come home. Murphy promised me that he didn’t tell anyone that he was getting me the job and that no one knew anything about what happened with Tate”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Doll”

“I know... and I came here and everything was great, everything is great, amazing even until about a month... maybe a month and a half ago”

“What happened a month ago?”

“Tate made parole. I was notified, Nick and Murphy would have been too. I was asked to speak but I declined. They granted him parole and a week later he was gone... I was notified again and then the next thing I know I got it...”

“Got what?” Sonny frowned

“The first note... it was sent to the precinct. I knew straight away it was from Tate but I couldn’t prove it. There was no fingerprints, no DNA, no stamp not even any footage of anyone dropping it off”

“You said first... how many have you gotten?”

“I don’t know a dozen?”

“And they’ve all come to the station? Just notes?”

“Well... actually I’ve gotten some at home and some photos...”

“Y/n! Are you kidding me?! He knows where you live?! And you didn’t tell anyone?! He could have seriously hurt you! What were you thinking?!” Sonny’s outburst made you jump slightly. He stood up from the bed and started pacing.

“I didn’t want to believe it! I thought I could handle by myself its not like he’s a criminal mastermind, everyone is so busy... I didn’t want everyone fussing!”

“Clearly you can’t handle this” Sonny fired at you. You stared at the floor, not knowing what to say. You knew deep down he was right, you just didn’t want to believe it “You should have come to me” his voice was softer, quieter.

“I know and I’m sorry. This effects you too” Sonny took your hands and made you stand up. He wrapped his arms around you again.

“Did you at least keep everything?”

“Of course, it’s in the bottom drawer of my desk”

“You know you have to tell them right?” Sonny sighed

“They are gonna be mad”

“I’ll be there to protect you”

“Promise?”

“Promise” he nodded, you held up your pinky

“Pinky swear?” Sonny chuckled and linked his finger around yours

“Pinky swear” he kissed your hand “Come on Doll, let's go talk to everyone, let's find this son of a bitch”

#law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #law and order svu imagines #sonny carisi #sonny carisi fanfic #sonny carisi imagines #sonny carisi x reader

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wlwinry · 4 years

Text

that summer breeze (the way it’s calling me)

okay so ik ive got like seven other unupdated wips but lemme just. lemme just start another one. it’s an edwin tangled au and ed’s rapunzel and winry's the thief and it’s gonna be stupid and cute and sad y’all ready? y’all ready.

chapter list:

prologue: you are here!

chapter one: here

summary:

All good stories start with once upon a time. Not this one. This one begins with a lost prince, the sun, a thief, and a birthday. Throw in some glowing lanterns, a tower, tragic backstories on all sides and plenty of budding romance, and now you’ve got a thief in love with a prince-who-doesn’t-know-he’s-a-prince, magic galore--

And of course, seventy feet of magic glowing hair.

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

Once upon a time, there was a god, and a kingdom. No, wait—that’s too cliché.

This is the story of how I died.

Now, don’t worry! This is actually a very fun story, a little bit wacky, honestly, and it has a happy ending, I promise. It’s going to be loads of fun—but just, spoiler alert, right? I die at the end, and I’m not even the main character, so there’s no need to worry. But let’s start from the beginning. The proper beginning. With the source of all life.

Our story begins with the sun. The god of the sun, to be precise, and the Kingdom of Xerxes. For you see, the royal bloodline of Xerxes was tied to sun magic. Half of those with royal blood, particularly the heirs to the kingdom, could wield it in some capacity, whether it was to heal, to protect, or to destroy. And among that half…among that half were a rare few who had so much magic, so much power that they were considered the children of the god itself. A single touch could heal a wound, their voices could turn barren wastelands into lush forests, and their fury could burn kingdoms to ash. There was only one every five generations, and these rare sun-wielders were called Sunspeakers.

And it just so happened that one of the princes of Xerxes was a Sunspeaker.

The eldest son of King Van Hohenheim and Queen Trisha Elric was legendary even before his tale truly unfolded. The Queen had fallen sick with a deadly illness, but the unborn child’s magic had healed her from the inside out. Against all odds, she survived—and gave birth to a healthy (if small) baby boy with eyes and hair of gold. This on its own wouldn’t mean much, as the king had the same coloring, but when touched by the sun…

The boy glowed. Winding patterns covered his skin, like golden ivy, swirling over the skin of a child who had no idea what power he wielded—the power of a god. Immortality, eternal life, the ultimate weapon…all contained in the tiny body of an infant.

Lesser rulers would have considered him a weapon of defense. Lesser parents would have used him to rise above their proverbial station. But the king and queen never considered either of those things for a moment, taking one look at their son and deciding that his power changed nothing. He was their son, their beloved child, and they would love him and raise him just the same as they would have otherwise. The kingdom rejoiced at the birth of their Sunspeaker prince, and on his first birthday, the two rulers lit a lantern and launched it into the sky to celebrate.

But not all who learned of the prince’s power were good at heart. A man long-since banished from Xerxes, who sought eternal life, who sought the power of gods, learned about the birth of a new Sunspeaker and selfishly wanted the boy’s power for himself. One night, while the king and queen were sleeping, he broke into the castle—and upon seeing that the stories were true, stole the child, and vanished without a trace.

He took the child far, far away, to a tower deep in a forest beyond the kingdom’s borders, and hid him away. At first, he tried to make him use his power immediately, to teach him how to destroy, but after the child burned away his own leg, he ceased. He taught the child a healing spell that would keep him alive and imbue him with strength, tricked him into believing his missing leg came from a wound inflicted by bandits who wanted to use his magic for wicked purposes. To control him, he led him to believe that his power was tied to his hair, never allowing him to cut it for fear that he’d “lose his magic”…and never, ever letting him leave the tower, convincing him of the terrible things that waited outside.

But the boy grew curious, as all children do. Distracted himself with painting and books and baking, whatever he could get his hands on, but his gaze would always turn to the window that was his only connection to the outside world. He would wander to the sill, stand on it and lean out into the sun, drinking in the light, the feel of the wind on his face—but every time, his eyes would fall to the empty space where his leg should’ve been, and he’d remember what waited outside. The monsters that wanted his magic, the cruel selfish world that would take his hopes and dreams and desires and crush them without thinking twice. And he would step back, staring down at the world that waited below the tower’s one entrance, before closing the shutters and hiding away.

Except for one night a year.

Except for his birthday.

Because the king and queen, even after years went by and the boy’s little brother was born, never forgot the son they’d loved and lost. They mourned him, and kept looking for him, desperate to find their beloved child—and their youngest ended up taking up the search, eager to find the big brother he’d never known. But that part of the story comes much, much later, long after eighteen years of watching lights soar up into the sky when his father was fast asleep.

Just like they did when he was born.

Every year, without fail, no matter what their kingdom was facing, no matter what illnesses befell them, the king and queen would launch a lantern into the sky, like a single, shining star calling him home. And every year without fail, the kingdom joined in, from the highest-ranking noble to the lowliest beggar, and lifted a lantern into the air for their little lost prince. Praying that he would see them, and know they were for him. Know that they hadn’t given up on their Sunspeaker prince yet, and never would.

On that night, every year, the boy would sneak out of his bedroom and over to the windowsill, opening the shutters oh-so quietly so his father wouldn’t hear. He’d sit on the sill, leg dangling over the side, watching and waiting for the floating lights to drift into view. He’d watch until they faded, entranced by shimmering colors and the fact that a world so cruel, so cold, could make something so beautiful—and he couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, the lights were meant for him. But every time he brought it up, and begged to see them, even just from the cliffs above the valley, he was shut down.

Brutally. Coldly, as his father seemed to do many things, flip-flopping from kind and warm to cruel in seconds. Slowly, he stopped asking, until he gave up on the thought of seeing the floating lights entirely. Until, well…

Me.

Eighteen years went by, the boy unwittingly feeding his father’s power and growing more and more hollow, the kingdom growing more and more hopeless, and in the middle of it all, there was a crown. The boy’s crown. Protected day and night, beautiful and intricate, and most importantly, worth a fortune.

So perhaps the prequel starts with the sun…but the story really starts with a thief, a crown, and the boy it belonged to.

As for what happened next, well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?

#fma #mads writes #tangled au #edwin #ed is a disney princess #pls read & rb

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Tick Tock

Tale Teller Prompt Wk 1 - The answer was written in her eyes.

Warning – Um, mention of stalking ex.

Modern Thorin x my OC - Teacher x Clock Maker/Seamstress Au

…

Among the top five most enviable traits about Hobbits listed for centuries now, one thing most certainly not on it would be spontaneous pregnancies. For as hard as you had worked to do things the right way ‘boom, baby’ dropped you to your knees. What you had was a lovely job, cozy little flat and a man head over heels for you able to make women foam at the mouth. Though one problem, you had only been on two dates, and when his sister had spotted you eyeing baby clothes and changing tables for the best deal all hell broke loose when he finally returned from his business trip he made sure to let you know exactly how ‘done’ he was with you.

Only, he wasn’t, for a year you carried your little girl and it was the most stressful time of your life. Moving three times and still he would be there, having transferred himself to make certain that everyone in your life knew just what supposed treachery you had enacted upon him. At your whit’s end you found an old number and made a desperate call.

Two weeks aboard a lavish cross ocean ship with a ticket and packed truck of your belongings all sent under your Dwarven name gifted to you at birth by your grandfather, to whom you were fleeing, and an hour long drive from the docks in a hired car you eyed the lush green of Erebor around you. From Helcrax to here it was quite a terrifying shift, though since a few trips from when you were a child you wondered why your mother had fled these lands for something supposedly finer.

Just a few months shy of two years old your little girl Kiore slept soundly in her carrier with her black curls matching yours pushed into her face with her lilac eyes matching yours clamped shut through the drool bubbles escaping the crease of her mouth you kept wiping away. Dropping lower your eyes fell to her fox coated blanket over her you fixed to cover her at the chill from the ac countering the rising heat outside in the early spring day. The full drive you tried to remember all you could for this isolated haven. All you could remember to fault it was the surplus of clocks. True you came from a long line of clock makers but it was the full town just riddled with ticking.

Small towns, true they had their quirks, but what you hoped to be true was the amount of support and protection you had been promised. Through the bustling main street packed with shops and curious Dwarves all watching the car drive by wondering who had come to town. Thanks to the tinted windows they were unable to however, at least until the car stopped outside a tall shop with stained class windows and winding clock arms on a gorgeous clock face above the door surrounded by tall arched windows on the thick stone building in a bright peach color under the sunlight. A trio of parking spots outside, one with a familiar truck and a powder blue coupe, the third spot was filled and you could feel the whole street come to a stop watching as your Grandfather exited his shop with a wide grin.

Carefully you unstrapped yourself, the carrier and slid your way out of the back seat through the door you eased open. Warmly in a one armed hug you were folded into the burly Dwarf’s arms at his low rumble of, “There you are little bear.”

Weakly grinning up at him you asked, “I’m not interrupting anything?”

He shook his head grinning as he eased his hand over his mustache and trimmed beard in deep black with flashes of silver mixed throughout, “Never!” Chuckling to himself he led you to the open trunk where he shouldered your bags while you shouldered the diaper bag still on the seat and quietly closed the door as your grandfather did the same with the trunk. His grin doubling as he neared you peering in at Kiore, “Still sleeping?”

You nodded, “Ya, thankfully. She actually did enjoy the ship, even though I kept having nightmares of her falling off it.”

Leading you towards the shop he passed a tip to the driver who thanked him and hurried to his car as you were wrapped in a long arm through your body relaxing in the warmth of the sun to the hushed whispers filling the streets. “Your Amad had the same dreams about you when she moved out to Gondolin. It is common.”

Through the door he opened you eyed the incredible first floor to the shop packed with clocks, display cases for watches and work stations behind a row of counters with a pair of staircases on either side of them helping to divide the shop from the workshop half of the first floor. “Wow,” you whispered to yourself eyeing the array of colors coating the room from the tall windows.

His grin doubled guiding you to the counter where he raised the divider showing you to the back half of the shop where he set your bags down and turned to claim the carrier from you. “Here, I will take the little one. Now, for the tour. This is the workshop for our clocks, I know you mainly worked in costume design and you were wanting a job pertaining that, so I asked around and we are in need of a designer for the local school and theater club, they looked at your resume and accepted you on the spot.”

“Wow, that-,”

He chuckled, “And for the summer and lulls between costume jobs you could pass the time here if you like.” Looking you over hopefully he asked, “Did your Amad teach you about clocks?”

You nodded, “Ya, she used to sell them on the side, carved them in the garage. I used to make a few for random projects in school, helped with that robotics course she signed me up for.” Looking around you said, “This shop is incredible. Why’d she leave?”

In a deep sigh his eyes met yours and he replied, “Some people dream of something bigger than our sleepy little town. Big city always called her, just like her Amad. Though I am glad you are here. Kiore too.”

“Thank you again, for helping me.”

He shook his head, “Won’t hear a word of that now. Any sign of that ex of yours and we will tear his head off. No one hurts my little bear.” His eyes darted to the windows crowding with far from subtle passers by trying to peek in at you before saying, “And for your place-..” His hand fixed in yours and he guided you back to the main shop and up to the second floor where your mouth fell open at the rolls of fabric on one half with racks of decorations, buttons, zippers and other fasteners. The other half had body molds and tables to work at lit by groups of circular windows randomly across the walls and the glowing crystal chandeliers from rafters in the ceiling twenty feet up. “Miss Beatrice sold up shop a year back and I had the space, hoped you would come out so I set it all up.”

“This is incredible.”

He chuckled, “Plus, with the both of us here I can help out with Kiore, we can alternate house calls if you like.”

“You, do house calls?”

He chuckled and at Kiore’s fussing for a change he led you back down again into the main shop and through to the back room where he showed you to the changing station he had fully stocked up there in the small nursery in the sitting room. Once changed he raised the again snoozing toddler to his chest with a wide grin, “Of course we do house calls. Mainly for grandfather clocks.”

Nodding your head you couldn’t help but grin at Kiore’s content coo and your having a helping hand finally, “I have to ask, what’s the fascination with clocks? Each shop we passed-,”

He chuckled again, “Bit of a long winded story. Mainly, it’s fabled the founder of our town had a deal with a demon for immortality and invulnerability on the battle field, the catch he was tasked to never let his watch he so prized stop. Obviously it did, and that watch was smashed and buried with him by his widow. Well, grave robbers arrived hearing the tale wanting it for themselves. One by one they were all killed for it until the final one came back to return it to the founder’s family. Well, others no doubt would come so it was hidden, since then our lands have been safe, and of course in retaliation for that we started sending out watches and clocks each year to neighboring lands and clans stemming from the thieving clans.” A set of giggles left you and he laughed rubbing his hand across Kiore’s back, “Then we decorated the town with clocks so no one would ever know if they found the original watch or not.”

“Classic. Sheer pettiness, love it.”

Making him chuckle again and say, “Speaking of house calls, I do have one, if you would like to get out for a bit I can watch here and you get your feet wet.”

“Sure, that, would be nice.”

Nodding at the sound of the bell above the door sounding at the first ‘browsing’ townsfolk entering the shop he slipped his hand into his pocket and smiled as he said, “Then you will be needing this.” A keychain with a clock inside a goat’s body dangled at the end of the car fob parting your lips, “And before you say it’s too much it was your Amad’s. Been sitting around, usually used to loan it for date nights for our neighbor so they wouldn’t have to go out with their car seat and toy riddled van. Polished it up for you, plus, great safety car for our little pebble.”

Moving closer you hugged him again stirring another chuckle from him in folding around your tiny frame barely to his pecs, and kissing the top of your head, “Thank you, for everything.”

“Anytime little bear.” Guiding you out he passed you the waiting kit and the clipboard with papers attached he showed you what to fill in along with an easy to follow map he drew you for where you were going.

…

Three greetings for the towns people introduced you to the Bur Brothers, who all eagerly trotted over to peer over at Kiore in her sleep as you stepped out of the shop. Instantly you felt a pull to head back again to your sleeping child who you had rarely left behind before outside of jobs yet you kept going to the waiting coupe feeling eyes watching as you climbed in and started it up off for the house not far away.

Wetting your lips you recited the directions in your head until you parked in front of the large brick home in the sea of picturesque mansions you could never picture yourself entering let alone living near. Against that mental struggle you walked up to the door and rang the bell. Instantly the sound of children racing by in a fit of giggles was followed by thunderously loud steps halting at the door that easily swung open revealing the tall soapy water stained Dwarf with dark hair brushed back and bubble coated beard stemming to his chest, “Boys-!”

Giggles followed and his head turned, “You know where the clock is, Jo-,” at that his lips pursed lowering his gaze seeing your hand rise to wave at him, “Um,”

Under furrowed brows his bright blue eyes looked you over in your skinny jeans and loose green flannel shirt, “I’m Jo’s granddaughter.” A thud turned his head again and you smirked saying, “In the back room, right? He wrote out the locations for me.”

The Dwarf nodded gripping the towel in his hand tighter at the next thud, “If you’ll excuse me a moment, come on in.” He hurried off calling out, “Boys!”

Again you chuckled to yourself closing the door behind you, stepping carefully across the expensive looking runner carpet towards the back room to check on your first clock chuckling at the sounds of the two boys eluding the large man trying to wrangle the sudsy pair into their clothes. In awe you eyed the antique clock you carefully inspected and made minor adjustments to before moving onto the next one a few lavish yet cozy rooms over. With three faces this one was more tricky yet cross legged on the floor you managed to find the proper position to adjust the swinging arm inside tipped with a tiny ship setting the time off early.

Nearly to the end of the task you eyed the timid man leaning into the doorway flashing you a momentary grin before saying, “I, um, that is, we heard you were moving to town.”

You nodded, “How much of the story did he share?”

The man shrugged, “Not much. You were moving in, gonna take up the costuming jobs and help in the shop. Little girl of your own, bout it.”

“Nothing else?”

Wetting his lips he said, “Did mention telling him if any strangers come to town.”

You nodded and lowered your eyes to the boys leaning around his lower legs with waves of their own you returned. The blonde of the two said, “Jo’s a lady now!”

The man chuckled crouching down to say, “No, this is his granddaughter-,”

His eyes rose to you and you grinned saying, “Jaqi.” Waving again at the pair.

Tapping their heads he introduced them to you, “This is Fili, and Kili, my nephews.”

Kili, “Amad is buying beans!”

Fili gasped and whispered something to Kili then they both turned to take off again making him roll his eyes and say, “I’m Thorin, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Another thud sounded and he sighed rising again to turn saying, “A wonder we still have a roof and furniture at all. I will leave you to it and fix some snacks.”

“Oh-,” before you could argue he was gone again and you shook your head trying to ignore the even tighter shirt he had changed into over his thigh and ass hugging jeans. Two more clocks later and you found him in the kitchen guiding the boys through making sandwiches, which were looking less like that by the minute. Looking up at you he grinned again stealing another chance to look you over as you passed him the clipboard. “Top section, please.”

Thorin chuckled pulling out the attached pen, “Yes,”

“Not that you probably need me to tell you that.”

The front door opened and through it passed a tall woman on the phone with arms full in the middle of a debate with the blonde Dwarf on her right. Silently in their luring Thorin into the mix you left the receipt and slipped out waving at the boys in return for theirs and made your way back to the car.

That simple stop grew into two, in equally as distracted households all stealing brief moments with you until your inevitable slip away. In the shop again you felt the weight drop off you seeing Kiore awake and bouncing on her feet in the start of her teeter towards you once she was freed from her dangling bouncer distracting her while your grandfather finished up a customer’s watch repair. A series of random repairs filled the rest of your day. The end of your day found you back in your car following your grandfather’s truck to a mansion of your own with a suite fully set up for you already, complete with nursery. For all you had lost now you surely had an incredible place to start over in.

The following day after you handled the shop while he took the home visits, a decision easing the stop in for your customers the day prior to check in on you. Only for them to all but melt seeing Kiore in her playpen at your feet or in her bouncer as you started to work on the mold for your first original watch to be set aside for a simple repair job brought in for you to be fawned over once again. Each time easing her worries about the massive people, first terrifying her near to tears unless in your arms to openly giggling in greeting them all. Though for all the friendly faces your attention kept being led back to that same sudsy customer from your first day by some far more subtle than others.

The middle school teacher who had been thrilled to find out you were tasked for the final play of the year, bringing you into the school for a matter of weeks granted him, his cousins and his siblings the chance to steal more and more of your time. Day five, on the same day as the town fair opening, however seemed to be a tipping point as you nearly ripped a hem on a zoot suit jacket at Dis’ plain question of, “The fair opens today. Thorin seems to mope about tagging along with Vili and I, what about you two going together?”

Without an answer she walked off grinning to herself as she made her way to Thorin’s class. Straight to his desk she walked stirring an anxiously raised brow on her brother’s face as he wiped down his dry erase board, “Dis, what did you do? You’re smirking.”

“When were you going to ask her to the fair?”

Turning to face her fully he repeated, “What did you do?”

Rolling her eyes she said, “I only asked our dear Jaqi what she thought of you two going together.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What was her answer?”

“She wants you to ask her.”

“That’s what she said? Specifically?”

Dis shook her head, “No, I didn’t wait for her answer,” Thorin groaned and turned to the board again rolling his eyes, “But I didn’t need to. The answer was written in her eyes.”

Thorin glanced back at her and she nodded reassuringly, “And what answer was that?”

“Just ask her.”

Thorin sighed and focused on setting up for his next class that would be after his lunch. Bag in hand he strolled through the halls until he found himself in the theater strolling across the stage to sit beside you. Steadily your head turned to look at him when you tied off the final touch to the suit jacket hem. In a low unsteady tone he asked with eyes fixed on the needle and scissor filled hands resting on your lap, “I was wondering-,” Together your fingertips wove and he dared to dart his eyes higher, a single glance up to your face stirred a grin on his face seeing the hopeful flash of a smile in your eyes silently pleading for him to finish his request. That was all it took, a quick inhale later and his lips parted to complete his offer.

…

All – @himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

@sdavid09

#Tale Teller's 52 Week Writing Challenge #Hobbit #lotr

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7deadlycinderellas · 5 years

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if the summer of our lives could just come again, ch6

Ao3 link

Tyrion

Tyrion Lannister knew he was clever. It was one of his only traits which he felt he could always depend on. Even his father and sister could begrudgingly admit he was quick and quick-witted. And only in the throes of truly heavy drink did he ever feel like his faculties had left him.

The entire ride north had robbed him of this belief. A single letter, and a few whispered words had been the culprit.

The Stark bastard had seemed similarly struck dumb on the journey, but Tyrion had merely taken that by being faced with the realities of his decision to join the Night’s Watch. Tyrion had felt at one point to remind him that they weren’t even at the wall yet, he could still change his mind and turn around.

Yet every time he spoke to the boy, memories of the things contained in Sansa’s letter returned to his mind and he was once again robbed of his wits.

It’s not until they’re all camped a few days from the wall, that Tyrion finally manages to ask the boy,

“I was wondering if you’re sister…”

“Which one?” Jon replied. He was on his back staring up at the sky and didn’t seem to be paying much in the way of attention.

“Sansa, the older one. Has she...ever sustained some sort of violent blow to the head?”

“No, she was always the most careful of us.”

“Has she ever been prone to fits or spells or other sorts of madness? Does she ever eat strange wild mushrooms? Drink suspect liquor? ”

Jon rolls on one side to look at him .

“A few weeks ago I would have told you the only time Sansa ever lost her head was over songs or stories of romance. She was always conscientious and proper and never would have even thought of disobeying. But from the way you’re speaking of her, I’m guessing she sent us off telling you of some of the same madness my siblings laid on me.”

The same sort of madness?

“More than one your siblings spoke of this...madness?”

“And though it was, as you say, complete madness, they all seemed completely convinced. And as much as I wished that some of the things they told me were not the truth, I cannot dismiss them completely. ”

The smaller man is quiet for a time.

“Your sister told me something only two other people in the world besides me should know. She spoke a name to me I haven’t said aloud in more than a decade.”

He didn’t think Jamie or his father had either. Tywin had paid the matter no spare thought once it was done, and Jamie too did not mention it. Tyrion hoped it was due to shame.

“They told me things they should have had no ability to know. I guess that’s what convinced me to listen.”

“What are you going to do?”

Jon is silent.

“Go on ahead with things? Try and remember the important things they told me? Even the ones that are terrifying...It’s the only thing I think I can do. If you really want to know more, I guess you could try and ask them yourself. You’ll have to go past Winterfell on the way back down the Kingsroad anyway.”

Tyrion makes an excuse to step away from the young man after that. They had still been speaking so much in vagaries. He isn’t sure anything the other Stark children could have told the bastard could have shocked him to the core as much as what he’d been told.

Before drifting off to sleep, Tyrion pulls out Sansa’s letter and re-reads it.

She’s a good writer, and has managed to only hint at things which might make the note inflammatory if anyone else reads it. “The lioness tires of the stag, might make him a hart,” and the like. He would have likely dismissed it as the ravings of a bored maid with an overactive imagination, if it weren’t for the words she has whispered to him.

“Your first wife’s name was Tysha,” was all she had said to him.

He hadn’t said that name since nearly after it had happened. He had buried it. Jamie had done the same it seems. There was absolutely no reason Sansa Stark could have known that name.

And he was going to find out how she did.

Gendry

The week’s journey had not been an easy on Gendry. He did not have sealegs. And they didn’t seem to think growing on him was a good choice.

He staggered and stumbled about the ship, trying to help out where he could. He could fetch and carry and he learned a few knots. It was enough that he didn’t feel like a freeloader.

Davos tried to assure him that he didn’t expect him to be an experienced seaman, that if this was his only trip by boat, than that would be fine.

They’re dropping anchor in White Harbor when Davos finds him heaving the last bit of his food over the railing.

“Give it all back to the sea, boy, you’ll be on solid land again tomorrow. We have enough for a good meal before starting out.”

Gendry heaves, though this one is empty. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Might not stay down too long. Might just turn to nerves.”

Davos sighs, and slaps him on the shoulder.

“Don’t go doubting yourself. I was there when you wed the girl. I don’t think she’d suddenly jilt you, especially after an experience like this.”

“It’s not that.” Gendry lets himself smile at the memory. Arya had dragged him to the Godswood, with only Davos and the Hound to speak, the latter man cursing all the way. Jon had been pulled away by the continually rising wights, and it hadn’t been a good time for a proper ceremony.

Sansa had been rather upset, that she hadn’t gotten to be there. Every one else agreed that it hadn’t really been the time. That hadn’t stopped the two of them from basking in the glow as long as they could.

The dead had been rising in the fields and hollows, but the two of them hadn’t felt so alive in a long time.

“It’s not her I’m worrying about. It was easy enough, when the world was coming apart around us. But now things are normal, as normal as they’re ever going to be. She had tried to convince me once, when we were younger, that her family would accept me, but now I’m just not sure if I should believe her.”

Davos takes a seat atop a barrel sitting by the railing. It’s full of ale they were carrying to sell, and he feels he could use a cup. Ale, wine, spirits, they were all easy to haul and ship, and fetched a solid price wherever they were sold. Only problem was stopping your crew from attempting to skim off the top.

“I can’t say I knew the she-wolf better than you do. But I met her sister, and her half-brother, and I know her father had a reputation for being honorable. If things were truly ordinary again, I would say you likely would encounter a number of setbacks, but it isn’t. Nothing for us will ever be normal again, not with what we know. And if the three of them told anyone else...than I would say your greatest worry is far from marrying a girl who was born above your station.”

Gendry has another niggling doubt.

“You don’t think she’s...told anyone else about the, uhh... circumstances of my birth?”

Davos sighs, more deeply than before.

“I don’t think Arya’s the type to put much stock in things like that, and truthfully, I’ve always thought the dead should stay dead.”

He glances at Gendry, his black hair longer than before just beginning to fall in his eyes.

“But I highly suspect others will figure things out anyhow. Family resemblances being what they are.”

Gendry looks at him, and asks.

“You got all your sons back when we returned. Don’t you ever get tired of having to deal with all the strays you picked up along the way?’

Davos laughs, deep and hearty.

“One of these days, you may be blessed with sons and daughters of your own. Whether they’re your blood or not, they can never be cast aside.”

Sansa

Sansa yawns and stretches her arms as she stood. She had been in her father’s solar all morning. Ned and Catelyn had just left for the mid-day meal, leaving her briefly alone. She’s got papers strewn in front of her where she’s written down a mass of things they need to keep an eye on.

Telling about Robert’s potentially forthcoming death had been an easy one. Being gored by a wild boar had been a very easy death for them to believe.

“It even sounds like the sort of death that might appeal to Robert himself,” Ned had muttered.

Telling them about Joffrey and his siblings had been awkward, but similarly simple.

“They...they really don’t look anything like him at all,” Catelyn thinks aloud.

“And I saw the first bastard he sired before his marriage,” Ned trails off, clearly thinking that that had been before Robert had supposed to marry Lyanna, “she looked just like you would have thought.”

“It ended up having nothing to do with Jon Arryn’s death after all,” Sansa adds, “But it definitely had its role in yours. And I am pretty sure Cersei had a hand in Robert’s death, even if I’m not sure how. I should ask Bran later if he’d had any kind of insight into that.“

Catelyn makes a noise deep in her throat.

“I once told someone that a woman ought to be able to lead as well as a man, but I cannot imagine a situation that ended with that woman on the Iron Throne.”

“There are other women who made their own bids into leadership,” Sansa tells her, though she doesn’t include herself in her list, “Yara Greyjoy might be the first trustworthy head of the Iron Islands in generations. But Cersei’s rule was based entirely on the deaths of all three of her children. I’m sure we can disrupt that.”

But eventually she has to push onto the one that’s been haunting her mind. She saved it until last.

“Mother,” she starts, reaching out to touch her, “You cannot trust a single word that comes out of Petyr Baelish’s mouth.”

Catelyn’s face freezes, and she opens her mouth as though she wants to object, so Sansa doesn’t stop speaking.

“I’m still not sure what exactly his end goal was,” that’s a bit of a lie but easy to run with, “but he has his fingers in so many pies right now that even if we had decided to go with Arya’s initial plan to sneak out and find a way to slit his throat-” there’s a big intake of breath from both Ned and Catelyn at that, “-then I would have absolutely no idea the fallout it would cause.”

She keeps going. It’s easier than stopping to breath or to give them a chance to respond.

“The Lannisters didn’t have Jon Arryn killed for finding out about Cersei’s children. Baelish had Aunt Lysa poison him at his behest- I know she’s your sister, but she’s seriously lost her grip on reality. And I obviously can’t say for sure, but I’m almost completely sure he had a hand in your death too, Father.”

There had been angry words after that, and tears. Sansa was beyond overwhelmed and couldn’t even begin to think about how to handle it. She missed Tyrion, he had always been able to keep a grasp on situations like this. She missed Margaery Tyrell too, who always seemed to be to handle difficult situations with grace. Sansa pauses at that thought. She wonders if she should try and send one of the Tyrell’s a letter too, but she didn’t have a clear enough picture of their motivations in the overall map that was their lives to feel comfortable doing so.

She feels a wet nose brush at her side, and turns to find Lady sitting at her feet. With a smile, she pets her on the head.

“I’m sorry you’re too big to carry now, girl. But you can come with me to the meal.”

The wolf is now as large as a small sheep, but lean and quiet. She can slip down the hallways on dainty paws, and hardly make a sound. Sansa sticks close to her as she leaves Ned’s solar for the Great Hall.

The meal is sitting on the table, but there’s hardly anyone sitting to eat it. Everyone seems to be keeping their own schedules as of late, and people wandered in and out on their own time. Ned and Catelyn appear to have gotten waylaid on their paths, as they’re not here yet. Arya’s here right now, munching on her bread and potato-and-leek soup.

“Don’t run off, I’m going to need to borrow you after we eat.”

Arya raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t bolt. The old her would have in a second, especially if she knew what was coming.

After Sansa eats, and as their parents enter to have their meal as well, Sansa and Arya leave and Sansa leads her back up to her chambers. Both Ned and Catelyn look as though there has been yelling between and now and before, and Sansa doesn’t wish to linger.

“I almost feel like I should be frightened.” Arya admits when she shuts the door and Sansa pulls a wrapped up parcel from one of her trunks.

She holds up the dress, there’s a ghost of the old Arya on her face.

“You’ll need at least one good dress, and I’d like to make one that will work for you.”

“What are you thinking of?” Arya asks her with suspicion, though she does take the darted and pinned garment and pulls it over her head.

Sansa touches the fabric. It’s soft wool, good for the coming winter, in a simple middling blue.

“Long sleeves, but they stop at your wrists and don’t hang. The neckline is neutral, it shouldn’t choke you, but shouldn’t show any cleavage either.”

She tugs it where it fits over Arya’s chest.

“I know you didn’t get exactly busty, but I can’t quite work out most of your other measurements, especially since I’m working from memory. You ended up about to my chin right?” Arya nods. “Not very big...at least I shouldn’t have to do more than let out a seam or two as you grow.”

Sansa’s going to make the skirt fit just above her hips, slender enough not to need any special smallclothes to drape properly. No excess, and loose enough she should be able to run away from anything that might chase her.

Arya touches the fabric, which has enough loose over her chest to eventually accommodate her breasts.

“Is it weird that I miss them?”

Sansa snorts.

“I didn’t pay them any mind when they were growing on me, but now I miss them. I miss all sorts of strange things.”

Sansa removes the garment from over Arya’s head and folds it back neatly.

“I miss when I could spend all my time sewing and none of it trying to puzzle out House politics so that we don’t all kill each other before the monsters over the wall come over and try again.”

Arya shrugs everything back into place as Sansa puts her things away.

“You should come out to the yard with me. Meera’s helping me get good with my bow again.”

Sansa pauses,

“I don’t know.”

She’s mentioned wanting to learn something to protect herself, but it’s daunting. She’s not Arya, anything more athletic than dancing has never been even something to consider adding to her skillset.

“It’ll be fine Sansa. Besides, Meera’s been trying to teach Jojen too, and he’s really awful. Rickon joined us yesterday too, and we still haven’t managed to make it stick for him that you can’t just run up and stab the target with the arrow.”

Sansa’s nerves don’t disappear as they make their way down to the training yard. It’s empty in the afternoon, and Meera, Jojen and Rickon already have the equipment out.

They do simmer down when they get there, and Jojen has somehow managed to get his thumbnail wedged into the wood of his bow.

“Are you sure you’re related to me” Meera asks indignantly as she dislodges his hand his hand and files the nail down with the edge of her knife.

“This is why I always left this to you,” Jojen tells her, pouting.

Meera then takes off her own leather glove and trades Jojen for his finger guard.

After a moment, she offers it to Sansa,

“We’ve only got the one, and I’ve got calluses already.”

“Keep it,” Arya tells her, reaching into her waist pocket and pulling out her own leather gloves, “I’ll give her one of mine, I shoot lefty anyway.”

Sansa pulls on the glove, it’s only a little tight.

“Don’t grip the string too tightly,” Arya warns her, “You should bring your kid gloves next time, it will be easier on your fingers that way.”

The bow and arrows feel unnatural in her hands, but she manages to pull and release without dropping anything, and even though her arrow misses, it doesn’t fly off anywhere unexpected. Arya’s right, it does make her feel better.

Soon the air is thick with flying arrows. Some of them go off into the ground, and others bury themselves in the straw men they’re using as targets.

“Arya, don’t aim for the balls,” Meera criticizes, when Arya manages to land an arrow square between one’s legs, “That will only make them bleed.”

“Lot of blood coming through there,” Arya insists, “and it’s not usually armored.”

“If you’re aiming at someone in armor, the neck is more deadly, or the legs if you just want to do damage.”

Arya shrugs her off.

Soon they run out of arrows, and Meera sends Rickon to gather all the fallen ones, which he does happily enough.

Soon, though Sansa’s arm begins to tire, the bow does begin to feel more natural, and the arrows begin to get closer to where she’s aiming.

“It’s mostly practice,” Arya assures her as she nocks her last arrow. “It’s like with me and needle, you just to learn your eyes and the arrows. There are a lot fewer variables than if you’re going at someone with a knife or a sword.”

“Way too close contact for my taste,” Meera comments, “I want to put some distance between me and whatever I’m shooting at.”

“Not that I disagree-” Arya starts, “but I thought you favored a spear?”

“Spear gives your arm an extra long reach, they’re garbage in close quarters, and-”

Whatever she was going to say next is cut off when Sansa moves to loose her arrow. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rickon, impatient as ever, move to start gathering the fallen arrows again.

Sansa yells, and feels the arrow slip.

Arya lunges forward and grabs Rickon, and the arrow falls to the ground barely three feet in front of her.

Sansa can hear Arya loudly berating the younger boy, but can’t make out her words over the sound of her own heart pounding. Her head is swimming.

Rickon is red-faced and abashed, but all Sansa sees is the tall, curly haired young man he became. Him running, and then falling, full of arrows.

Arya’s still yelling when Sansa hands Meera her bow and says, “I need to take a break.”

Meera reaches out to take her things, and gestures with a nod of her head over at one of the walkways.

“Bran’s been sitting up there a while if you wanted to talk to him.”

Sansa glances up at one of the walkways where she looked. She cocks her head.

“How’d you see him?”

Meera rolls her eyes, “I lived with him in a cave with hardly anyone else to talk to for over a year. I’m pretty sure I could find him in the middle of the woods blindfolded just from the sound of his snoring.”

“Do you...want me to tell him to go away?” Sansa asks carefully.

Meera sighs, and rubs her eyes. The two of them are the only ones in the group who look at all close to their adult selves, and right now Meera looks even older than then.

“No,” she replies quietly, “I just need time.”

Lady’s been sitting at the edge of the training yard watching them, and when Sansa approaches, she jumps up and trails behind her neatly.

Bran nods at her when she climbs the walkway and sits, Lady squeezing between them. He reaches out idly to scratch her ears.

“Bad thoughts?” He asks Sansa.

She nods. Bran ducks his head in response.

“I had some the other day when I saw Theon talking to Ser Rodrik. All I could see was him cutting his head off.”

Damn.

“I guess our lives are going to generate a lot of those now.”

Bran turns his eyes down to Lady again. “Have you ever dreamt that you’re seeing through her eyes?”

Sansa’s alarmed.

“Like you do?”

“Arya’s told me it happens to her with Nymeria too, and I know Rickon’s had them...I thought you would too, and you just didn’t have a chance before.”

It’s not something Sansa ever thought about. Bran’s right, her and Lady were cut apart too early before for a bond of that sort to form.

She wonders what it would be like, to run through the woods with Lady’s eyes. To see the other animals as she does, to be able to slip past enemy lines nearly undetected. Lady’s already shown ability to be quieter and more stealthy than her littermates. It could be terribly useful.

She doesn’t get a chance to ask Bran anything else, when there’s a sudden commotion from below.

She has to help Bran get his crutches and stand, and by the time they get back down to the yard, the commotion has calmed a bit. Jojen’s rolled on his side, the shaking beginning to slow. Once he stills, Meera pulls the bite strap from his mouth and lifts his chin.

“Give him a minute, sometimes he comes out really confused.”

It doesn’t take long though for Jojen to start mumbling, and pulling himself up to sit.

“I thought you said you hadn’t had a vision since all of us came back,” Meera asks him when he comes all the way to.

“I wasn’t sure about this one, it’s been so long, I thought it might have been a regular dream.”

“You haven’t had a fit like that in ages, what was this one about?” Meera asks, trying not to sound too rough, but frightened.

Jojen takes a deep breath.

“I saw a group of crows, flying over the wall, when they fell from the sky. One of them managed to get away, injured. Another shed its feathers and flew over again, nothing but a skeleton.”

There’s a long quiet, as all of them think on Jojen’s words. And with the image of a bird rising as a wight, Bran suddenly has a familiar feeling creeping in his gut.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #gendrya #breera #time travel fix it #fic

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whippedfouettelatte · 5 years

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The Beautiful Revolution: Ballet’s Importance in the 21st Century.

For a course at school I was given the choice to write a research paper on any topic of my choice. So i wrote about something near and dear to my heart-- Ballet. This took quite a bit of time and research and I hope you fellow balletomanes will like it! Enjoy!

Smoke fills the scene, a large golden moon hangs over the placid navy lake. From out of the trees, dozens of white swans gently land on the water, sending soft ripples out across the dark. As their white feathers illuminate the night, they turn into beautiful yet haunting maidens glowing like ghosts in the moonlight. One of the swan maidens is adorned with a large silver crown. She is Odette, the Swan Queen. Mourning the loss of her humanity, as she has been turned into a swan by the evil sorcerer Von Rothbart. She dances across the lake, accompanied by her swan maidens. When out from the bushes a man wielding a crossbow seeks to hunt the swans he saw earlier, only to find the maidens. The hunter, Prince Siegfried, immediately falls in love with the Beautiful Odette, swearing to marry her and break her curse.

That vignette is easily recognizable as the story of Swan Lake. This ballet was first premiered at the famous Bolshoi Ballet in Russia on March 4, 1877- nearly 150 years ago. The Bolshoi commissioned this piece from the composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Like many ballets, its initial run was a critical failure. The Critics criticized the music for being too complex and nearly undanceable. This shattered Tchaikovsky, who was extremely passionate about the project; finishing the entire score in one year. Sadly, the ballet would not be revived until 1895; two years after his death.

In modern times, this ballet is arguably one of the most quintessentials ballet. Most people can easily imagine the dancers decorated in white tutus, leaping and bounding across the stage. If one is to go to the ballet in the twenty first century it is probably in order to see Swan Lake in the summer, The Nutcracker in December, or Sleeping Beauty in the spring. Yet, today ballet is seen as an almost archaic art form, only seen or cared about by the elderly season tickets holders or attended as a mandatory Christmas event. This line of thought is damagingly inaccurate. Ballet has historically been more than just an entertaining art form: it has been a medium of protest and political commentary since its birth in the tumultuous court of the Sun King in France during the fifteenth century.

While some find it hard to believe that ballet in its prime was an important piece of the media that almost every active member of society was privy to or invested in. Today, ballet can seem to be an unimportant mode of protest to the ever changing political landscape of modern media. Swan Lake, while still restaged to this day and adapted into hundreds of unique and different storylines in thousands of companies across the world, seems like a story that has been sapped of any political importance-- as many think 150 years of political change and growth can negate the power of a message. This could not be further from the truth. Ballet is politically relevant all throughout history and into the twenty first century.

Many ballets have universal messages that run through the heart of the story; love, forgiveness, and betrayal. Additionally, most have political ideas that reflect the society and the politics of the time. In classical ballets, their political messages are easy to discern. When ballet is looked at through the lense of historical politics and society, it is easy to see what influenced each of the ballet’s elements. Ballet culture has been molded to fit the political landscape of the time. Most new ballets that have been created follow this idea of being a mirror to society, which can be easily seen and tracked through different retellings and restagings of influential or famous classic ballets. When the ballets are changed or modernized, they are always shaped to fit the political landscape of the time. Ballet is one of the few pieces of media that can be molded and adapted. Ballets from one hundred fifty years ago are still being staged. It is a timeless art form that is important and entertaining in every time frame. From its invention all the way to the twenty first century it challenges society and it should not be ignored or pushed to the wayside.

One of the first true classic ballets called Giselle is an influential political product of the nineteenth century. On the 28th of June 1841, it premiered at the Theatre de l'Academie Royale du Musique. This ballet tells the story of a young peasant woman named Giselle. She lives in an idyllic village in the German countryside. She is naive and full of life, she loves to dance though it is dangerous for her weak heart. Giselle falls in love with Albrecht, who she thinks is another peasant, when in reality he is a prince in disguise. Albrecht’s true identity is found out by a game master, Hilarion, who despises Albrecht because he too is in love with Giselle. Later, a group of nobles show up, along with Lady Bathilde-- Albrecht’s fiance-- who upon seeing him confronts him, asking him why he has been away. After seeing Albrecht kiss his fiancee, Giselle goes mad and dances around erratically when suddenly her heart gives out. She dies instantly.

In act two, Hilarion lays flowers on Giselle’s grave in the forest. He is suddenly attacked by Myrtha, Queen of the Willis. Willis are the spirits of women who were scorned or betrayed by men. When they find men, they enchant them and force them to dance to death. Albrecht is about to become a victim of this fate, but Giselle, a new spirit, forgives him for his betrayal and saves his life. The sun rises over the horizon and the spirits fade away. Albrecht is left safe and alone.

Giselle was an instant success because of how unique the plot was. This ballet reflected some of the deepest sensitivities of the time, at this point in history the population of Paris, France was plagued by illness and poverty on a massive scale. In the 1840s, life expectancy was around only forty years old for both men and women (Life Expectancy, Mike Roser). Women died in childbirth at a significant rate. Barely anyone in France during this time could afford suitable living quarters, as the revolution had decimated the government and in turn the economy. Giselle was a heroine that reflected the face of the French people. Instead of being portrayed in a negative and shameful light, Giselle represented hope for the common masses of France by being positive and sweet despite her circumstance in life. She is the hero of her own story and her powers of forgiveness overcome her afflictions. It was a kind of encouragement to the people that despite their circumstances they can rise above their station. This was the message of the revolution, helping to advance the everyday people and provide equality.

In addition, this ballet’s setting is in an almost fairy tale like village in the middle ages in Germany. This was a beautiful escape for the Parisians, as the industrial revolution was in full swing throughout Europe, and came to the cholera ridden streets of unemployed Paris. Many artist were unhappy with the change of morals and beliefs that coincided with the multiple social revolutions and the industrial revolutions, “which these artists and philosophers attributed to the Age of Enlightenment, they yearned for what they imagined to have been a better past. Thus emerged the common use of quasi-medieval settings for Romantic ballets and the supernatural themes that allowed people to escape reality” (Hutchins, 37). Therefore they were disillusioned by the new age of logic, and wanted to harken back to an age of romance and what they considered to be emotion-driven societies.

Furthermore, the analysis deepens when you look at the connections to the government of the time. In the ballet, Duke Albrecht woos Giselle under the guise of a peasant who is just like everyone else. He walks among the other peasants pretending to be one of them when in reality he is royalty. He takes advantage of Giselle and her love for him, and all of his promises are false as he swears to love only her but lies about his true alignment with the nobility. This directly parallels King Louis-Philippe-- the King of France during the time of Giselle’s creation. In France there were two different political parties at the time: The Parti De Resistance (which was mostly populated by the common french people,) and the Parti De Movement (the aristocrats and the wealthy.) Louis-Philippe never vocally sided with a party, but his cabinet was mostly made of the Movement party. Philippe, in order “To Demonstrate his connection and devotion to the French people… called himself the ‘King of the French’ rather than the ‘King of France.’ Early in his reign, Louis-Philippe walked freely and unprotected among his people, holding an umbrella in place of a scepter” (Hutchins, 36) This garnered him the nickname ‘The Citizen King’ before he fell out of favor with the French. Both Albrecht and Louis-Philippe inserted themselves into the culture of the lower class citizens, with disastrous effects. They tried to disguise their true alignment with the nobility under the guise of being like the rest of the citizens. This comparison is no accident; Giselle took a critical look at the political landscape of the time and reflected it in a deep analysis of socio political trends during 1840s France. Making is a influential piece of political relevance.

Giselle was a reflection and analysis of its time period, and in its many updated versions it has continued that legacy. In 1984, the Dance Theatre of Harlem staged an all new production of Giselle. The DTH is a dance company made entirely of African-American dancers. Because of this, Arthur Mitchell the founder and artistic director of DTH decided to mold the ballet to a new setting to allow the dancers to feel at home in a ballet known for its ‘whiteness’. A large problem with ballet in the 1980s was its inherent white race coding, Giselle is a part of a series of classical romantic ballets; including Swan Lake, La Sylphide, and La Bayadere, known as Ballet Blanc, which literally translates to ‘White Ballet’ due to the ballets central plot having white supernatural effeminate beings. Therefore, the DTH was tasked with changing the story to something racially inclusive yet not patronizing to the dancers. As ballet was inherently racist in the 1980s, many pointe shoe makers simply “did not believe that black girls were dancing on pointe” (Caught Dancing: Hybridity, Stability, and Subversion in Dance Theatre of Harlem's Creole "Giselle", 273). Therefore, to adapt Giselle into a modern cultural identity Mitchell moved it out of the medieval german rhineland, into post-civil war Louisiana plantations. Making Giselle a free former slave, while Albrecht is an aristocratic plantation owner posing as a poor farmer. Because of this setting, the ballet has been unofficially deemed Creole Giselle.

The DTH had to strike a balance when creating Creole Giselle, they had “the desire to provet the patent falseness of claims declaring the black body as wrong for ballet and the need to maintain a race-based cultural particularity in the performances of his company” (Gaiser, 273). The ballet, while mostly staying true to the choreography of the original 1841 production, was modified slightly. As many black dancers had not had the chance to prove themselves in a classical ballet setting, this production was their chance, yet if the steps were exactly the same they would run the risk of being called ‘imitative’ or being compared to other classic stagings of Giselle. This production had to be unique to show the dance community that Giselle was a ballet for everyone, while still separating it into a sphere where African-American dancers could show their talent without reprimands. Just like in everyday society, racism was still a large part of everyday life and it was something that wasn't overcome in the 1980s, but various people and movements were starting to repair bonds.

Creole Giselle was one of the first steps in the ballet world to show black dancers were as capable as white ones. Creole Giselle looked at its political landscape and reflected the ideas of respecting the old but welcoming the new into everyday society. In a study titled New Patterns of Racism: the different worlds of 1984 and 1964 we find that when comparing 1984 to 1964 “much has happened since 1964 in American black-white relations, but the changes have been uneven across and within institutions. In each area reviewed- politics, education, housing, occupation, family structure, income, health, and business- there have been conflicting trends. In general, gains are impressive when compared with earlier black conditions; however, they are less than impressive when compared with current white conditions.” Just like society, Creole Giselle looks on the bright side of improving race relations while still not breaking the boundaries it is stuffed into. Having to change things in order to help people find the story and choreography more palatable to their expectations. This version of Giselle carries on the legacy of reflecting the face of modern society.

The updated setting of Creole Giselle isn't where the reflection of society stops. Recently, in 2016 the English National Ballet commissioned Akram Khan to stage a new version of Giselle. This version of Giselle is different than any before. In this retelling, “they have set the ballet among a community of migrant workers, who have been sacked from their jobs at a garment factory and are having to eke out a precarious existence in an impromptu camp. The courtly world of Albrecht is replaced by a privileged group of landlords and factory owners, who live apart from their workers behind a high wall” (Akram Khan's refugee Giselle: 'A real woman in a catastrophic situation' by Judith Mackrell). Khan, who began his work on this new adaptation with the Director of the ENB, Tamara Rojo, chose to set the ballet in a migrant worker factory because of the refugee crisis in Europe. He realized while the ballet can seem naive to modern audiences, some of the strongest themes in the ballet are in the simplicity. The duality between love and betrayal, or reality and the supernatural. Khan kept those elements central to the ballet, while also focusing his attention on Hilarion. While in the original he was just a simple game master who was in love with Giselle but forced her to see the lies Albrecht told, in Khan’s Giselle he has “expanded Hilarion’s role in the ballet into a fixer, a go-between who works with both migrants and capitalist”(Mackrell). This version of Giselle is much grittier and grounded, like the Indian dance style Kathak, which Khan was taught. The second act replaces beautiful ghostly woman in long white dresses dancing across a forest, to women covered in dirt and grime with long ragged hair and clothes in an abandoned factory.

This ballet, while aesthetically different from the original in many different ways, still is recognizable as the classic tale of Giselle. Khan’s Giselle is a perfect commentary on Europe's refugee crisis, showing the everyday people as humans and developed people on the stage through the titular character Giselle. Just like in the 1841 version, yet today people are an eclectic mix of cultures, heritages, and styles just like the Creative team. Khan being born in Britain, yet raised to be in tune with his Bangladeshi heritage. Rojo, from Canada, born to immigrants from Spain. Giselle has changed drastically throughout the years, but in every adaptation it can be used as a critical analysis on the socio political landscape of the time.

Ballet still has a long way to go before it becomes as much of a cultural staple as it was in the 1800s. Yet it increases in popularity everyday, as many dancers have become activists or advocates for equality, feminism, LGBTQ acceptance, and much more. Ballet is moving back into the cultural limelight as its relevance in the political scene is recognized more and more. Many dancers have become household names, like Misty Copeland or Mikhail Baryshnikov. Ballets on stage tackle different social and cultural issues it is hard to ignore the fact that ballet is politically relevant all throughout history and into the 21st century.

#ballet #ballet politics #ballet relevance #ballet essay

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imagine-loki · 6 years

Text

If I could Turn Back Time, I’d Still Choose This

TITLE: If I could Turn Back Time, I’d Still Choose This CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 18 AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that when Odin found Loki on Jotunheim, he did not take him to raise as his son, as Frigga was pregnant at the time, instead he was given to a normal Aesir family. Years later, Loki meets Odin’s daughter Sigyn, and trouble ensues.

RATING: Teen and Up

Loki was the first to wake, stretching slightly as his arm felt numb from the manner he had it around Sigyn. He looked at her and began to feel even more concerned. In the past week, she had ballooned in size, the babies had moved in some manner and in doing so, had caused her to not even be able to stand without assistance, such was the difference in her centre of gravity. It was clear they would not be much longer, which worried them, as they had not seen a healer since before they fled her aunt’s.

He stretched again, trying his best not to wake her, but he realised a moment later that she was awake, but not even daring to breathe. ‘Sigyn? Is it the babies?’

‘He’s here.’ She began to shake in fear. ‘Loki, he’s here, he was in our room, I can sense him, he’s downstairs.’ She whispered. ‘Go.’

‘What?’

‘Leave, I can get you out the window with my seidr, go, run.’ She pleaded.

‘Are you insane, I cannot just leave you here?’

‘You cannot stay, he may go mad.’

‘Sigyn, I am not leaving you here, like this, to face him alone, that is madness.’

‘He will not harm me. Yell, bellow and bluster yes, but not harm.’

‘I am not leaving you.’ Loki rose from the bed and threw on a tunic and pants before walking out of the bedroom and down the stairs, ignoring her pleas to return. He inhaled deeply as he heard someone rise to their feet in the living area and walked in.

Odin was a formidable being, even in older age. He glared at Loki as he stood to full height, causing the young man to realise just how big the king was. ‘I don’t know whether you are foolish or brave.’

‘I always thought them very much skirting alongside one another.’

‘Perhaps.’ Odin acknowledged. ‘You have some neck even looking me in the eye, Boy. After all you have done.’

‘I would never have run, but for the suddenness of the information given to me and Sigyn’s persistence.’

‘It is Her Highness to you. She may be disgraced, but she is still far above your station.’ Odin snarled. ‘After you soiling her….’

‘Technically, I soiled him.’ Odin looked at the door on hearing his daughter’s voice. Loki rushed to it as soon as he realised she was there and helped her into the room. ‘Hello, Father.’

Odin felt almost like baulking. Her stomach was nothing short of gargantuan. It was clear the children she carried we strong and big and against her frame, there was no manner in which to pretend she was not close to birth. ‘Look at you.’

‘I would, but I cannot even see all of myself in a mirror these days.’

Odin shook in anger. ‘Give me one reason why I should not obliterate you right now.’ He looked at Loki as he spoke.

‘Because if you do, I will do everything in my power to show the realms your actions before you ever even have time to aim Gungnir to do the same to me. And then what will happen to your great allies, the Light Elves and the Vanir will not stand for that, you know how they feel of justice, you know they will assist your enemies, both on Asgard and beyond to take you down. They will say the power went to your head, that you are madder than Old King Richard of Vanaheim.’ She swore.

Odin’s nostrils flared. ‘You have some nerve to make such threats.’

Sigyn stood tall. ‘It is no threat, but a promise.’

‘The one trait you possessed that was ever honourable was your loyalty, and you cast that aside now, for this…..runt.’

‘I cast aside my loyalty to you because you never had any for me. I cast it off because you are not worthy of my loyalty. Why should I put you above my children? You, who never once bothered to try and be a true father to me.’

Odin glared at her, noting how Loki seemed to stay beside her, ready to assist her if needs be. Rather than refute her words, he chose to ignore them. ‘You are leaving, immediately.’ He tapped Gungnir on the ground and the pair ended up being fully clothed, though there was a significant difference that both realised immediately as Sigyn stumbled slightly. A thick choker type necklace was around Sigyn’s neck, causing her to feel as though at any moment, she would not be able to breathe. ‘That will keep that seidr of yours contained until we get back.’

‘She needs it.’ Loki declared, holding her against him. ‘She…’

‘Is not your concern anymore.’ Odin growled. ‘Guards!’ A moment later, two Einherjar entered the building, looking at their king for further instruction. ‘Take him back to the palace, place him in a cell until I can speak further with him.’ Loki stared in shock as he processed Odin’s words.

‘He did nothing illegal.’ Sigyn argued.

‘He fled the realm when he was being searched for.’ her father reminded her.

‘He never even was told that, he never had a choice, this was my doing, not his.’

‘You keep saying this as though he had no ability to decline the situation.’ Odin countered. ‘I will be dealing with you in due course, as soon as this mess is over, but for now, you are to get into the carriage with me before I lose my temper.’ He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from Loki, who was immediately held fast by the two guards, looking at her as he pulled to get free, but unable to do so as Odin pulled her out of the dwelling and into the royal carriage. With her collar on, Sigyn was unable to fight him, her current condition making it so her body was unable to deal with it.

In the carriage, she refused to look at her father as she felt his power encasing them in the carriage, preventing her from being able to do anything to get out, and indeed, if she was to wager, prevent others from seeing her condition, if not her in entirety.

They had made it back to Asgard before Odin even said anything more to her. She looked out the window sadly at Heimdall who knew better than to look at the carriage as it passed, she stared at the city as it became larger and larger, the closer they came to it. ‘When they are born, you are to be wed to a Lord, you will not make mention of this incident and you will continue as though it never happened.’ He stated factually.

‘It will be difficult to explain to a Lord as to how there are two little children running around, don’t you think?’ Sigyn scoffed. ‘Sorry husband, just ignore them, they are only my children.’

Odin scoffed before looking at her seriously. ‘You cannot honestly think you will be raising those children, do you?’ Sigyn’s face told him his answer. ‘Absolutely not. They will be dealt with and you will not have anything to do with them. You cannot think to bring them into your mess.’

‘But they are my children…I am their mother.’ Sigyn argued.

‘You are too young and too naive if you think you are the right person to raise them, look at all you have done, you would bring them into that? They deserve able parents, ones that can care for them and know what they are doing, who can provide for them.’

‘Because a palace cannot provide for children? We have no room or ability to afford to tend to them?’ Sigyn scoffed. ‘What happens when I marry this lord then, what if, within three months of the babies being born and my being wed, I am pregnant again, would that child be taken away on the basis I am too young? Why have we nursemaids in a palace with no children?’ She demanded.

‘You are in no fit position to raise them yourself and you can be damn sure not one nursemaid would be permitted to so much as look at the little beasts.’

‘So that is it, the fact they have some Jotnar blood, that is what this boils down to. You rather they never know their parents than have there be any acknowledgement that your grandchildren have some ice blood in them.’

‘They are not my grandchildren.’

‘Am I not your daughter? If so, then them being my children means that yes, they are your grandchildren, why are you so averse to that, if you want to talk facts like my age and marital status, then talk about how they are biologically of this family.’

‘They are nothing more than Laufey’s runt son’s filthy offspring.’

Sigyn stared at her father in shock. ‘Laufey…? Loki is Laufey’s son?’ She recalled the odd manner in which Laufey looked at Loki in their exchange, the knowing look in his eye. She had assumed it was because he sensed the Jotnar blood in Loki when perhaps he recognised more than that.

‘Exactly, that is why we cannot have anyone know about them, they are a sign of terrible things.’

‘Yes, I hear reconciliation and moving forward are terrible things to allow happen, up there with war and famine.’ Sigyn’s tone was deadpan, but the sarcasm dripped from every word.

‘You have no idea what you have done.’

‘I had no idea who he was, and for that matter, neither does he. And that is not realm ending, it doesn’t matter who the grandsire of these two are.’

‘You are not having anything to do with them, I forbid it.’

Sigyn leant forward slightly. ‘Then you will have to pry them from me because I will fight it.’

‘You will, whether you wish to or not.’ Odin promised. The carriage stopped and the door opened. Sigyn looked at her father. ‘They will see you as injured and ill, sound like it.’ was all he said before he exited.

Sigyn said nothing and followed him, barely able to move as she waddled in, her hand on her back as she tried to prevent herself losing her balance. It took her a considerable time to get through the halls and to the private quarters of the palace. When she did so, Odin stood waiting for her, her mother looking at her in shock as she finally made it to the room, having assumed Odin had not found her. Frigga rushed over to her, her eyes filled with tears, partly in relief, partly in shame. ‘Look at you.’

‘I can’t help but look at me.’ Sigyn shrugged. ‘I need to sit down.’

‘You will stand until you are told otherwise.’ Her father declared.

Sigyn defiantly looked him in the eye as she leant down, one knee at a time to the floor before allowing gravity do as she needed and sat her down. ‘I have two part Aesir, part Jotnar and part Vanir infants nearly fully developed in my womb, when I say I need to sit, what I am saying is I am unable to continue to stand, my seidr was what was keeping me from being like this for weeks, without it, I am forced to be like this. You make demands I cannot possibly adhere to and then get angered when I fail to adhere to them.’

‘You need to see a healer.’ Frigga began.

‘I do.’ Sigyn did not even argue with her mother, relieved at the idea of seeing how her children were faring. ‘What of Loki?’

‘You honestly are concerned with him now?’ Odin snapped. ‘You will never set eyes on the miscreant again.’

Sigyn swallowed. Loki had been the only being to seemingly care for her for no personal gain. He always showed her kindness and care and what she hoped was love, to think she would not see the handsome man she had become a mother by felt like a blow in the gut. ‘I…’ She winced as she felt herself cramp.

‘“I” nothing.’ Odin snarled. ‘You have done enough, said enough. You have orchestrated a great blow to this family.’

‘I have been Aesir, I have faltered, but I have not caused us to fall into ruin, you can cease the dramatics.’ She rolled her eyes as her mother did so many times before as she spoke.

‘Get to your rooms, immediately.’ Her father ordered.

‘I would be there already if I was able to access my seidr, yet all things considered, it will be five minutes alone before I get off this floor.’

‘You had no right sitting down.’

‘I have no right falling down, ergo my sitting down. Mother, you gave birth to Thor, explain to your husband that carrying around small Aesir inside you is not easy, then consider explaining I have two in me.’ Sigyn slowly moved as she attempted to get to her feet again. Frigga swallowed as she watched the sheer inability of her usually agile and swift daughter try to do something as simple as getting to her feet. In the end, she insisted on helping. Her eyes on the sheer size of Sigyn’s stomach as she did. ‘Thank you. I am going to need to rest now, could you ask Eir to come whenever she can, I have not seen a healer in weeks.’

‘What?’ Frigga looked at her worriedly.

‘Well, you went to Aunt Ana’s so she was too fearful to risk you having someone know she sent a healer to me and to give my whereabouts to you, so no healer.’

‘But….you needed…’

‘To be safe.’ Sigyn finished.

‘You think me dramatic.’ Odin scoffed.

‘You imprisoned a young man for committing no crime, you used royal resources to scour realms for your daughter for fear she would what, be happy? I don’t think you get to call me dramatic.’ She winked as she slowly made her way from the room.

‘Imprisoned?’ Frigga questioned.

‘He did….things, with the princess of Asgard and he fled.’ Odin explained.

‘As stubborn as our daughter is being, she is being truthful, he committed no crime, Odin.’ he grunted in displeasure. ‘We need to talk about Sigyn.’

‘Are we not speaking of her now?’

‘Odin….she cannot birth those children. She is too big, if their size does not kill her, exhaustion will.’

‘She had the most prestigious and able healer in the realms here and she left, she made this choice, not us.’ Odin dismissed.

Frigga’s shock at his words caused her to remain silent for a moment. ‘So, out of anger, you are fine with our daughter dying? The idea that this will kill her does not bother you?’

‘What do you want me to say, Frigga?’

‘Anything, please, our daughter may die because of this, how can you not care?’

‘What would you have me do?’ Odin demanded, ‘I cannot rectify this, none of us can.’

‘Give her her seidr, she needs it to give her more strength, she cannot walk properly for Valhalla’s sake.’

‘You know she will use it to do something to get to him or get herself out of here, here is where Eir is, here is where she has the best chance of surviving this mess. I am not doing this to hurt her, her hating me now hurts, but I am doing this because I want her to survive, I want her to get through this.’

Frigga said nothing more, Odin would not change his mind, and in his mind, he was guaranteeing the best way to heighten her chance of survival.

#loki #other #submission #submitted fic #chapter 18 #Wolfpawn #If I could Turn Back Time I’d Still Choose This #odin #jotunheim #frigga #pregnant #aesir #daughter #sigyn #trouble

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blucmoon · 3 years

Photo

━ ☾ ⊹ ( kim hyunjin, cis female , she/her ) say hello to SHIM YUNHEE, the TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD that seems to have a lot in his hands with HER job as a GAS STATION ASSISTANT! beyond that, they seemed RESPONSIBLE AND LOYAL upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of SELF-DETACHED AND IMPATIENT though. SHE seems to live in a 3 BEDROOM HOUSE in YUNHWA, SOUTH KOREA. anything else to add? oh, yeah! she also USED TO BE A SOCCER PLAYER UNTIL SHE BROKE HER ANKLE MID-GAME AND WAS ADVICED TO NEVER PLAY AGAIN.

stats

⋆ ― full name: shim yunhee ⋆ ― nicknames: yuni / yunee (sounds like yun 2) ⋆ ― age: twenty one ⋆ ― date of birth: january 8th, 2000. ⋆ ― birthplace: yunhwa, south korea. ⋆ ― current location:yunhwa, south korea ⋆ ― living arrangements: hwesakgu, house #3021. ⋆ ― ethnicity: korean ⋆ ― nationality: korean ⋆ ― gender: cis female ⋆ ― pronouns: she / her ⋆ ― orientation: : ) ⋆ ― religion: atheist ⋆ ― occupation: assistant @ gangmoon gas station ⋆ ― language(s) spoken: korean (fluent), english (advanced level) ⋆ ― accent: heavy

physical appearance

⋆ ― faceclaim: loona’s kim hyunjin. ⋆ ― hair: naturally brown, has only dyed it twice in her life. once red for more than half a year when she was a freshman at college and now it’s currently dyed to black. lets it down most of the time without doing anything to it, much preferring it’s natural waves (even though there are many). still, her second go-to style are messy ponytails and buns, followed by half up-do’s. only when tries to exert a little more effort, she either curls it on straightens it completely. ⋆ ― makeup: minimal, only started wearing mascara and eyeliner in college and still has trouble to draw even lines in both eyes. other than that, she applies colored chapsticks in red and pink hues. ⋆ ― eye colour: brown. ⋆ ― gaze: dreamy and pensive, slightly strained, often expressing attentiveness, sardonic irony or melancholy. ⋆ ― height: 163cm / 5'4" ft ⋆ ― weight: 48kg ⋆ ― tattoos: none yet. ⋆ ― default expression: solemn, monotonous but often shows light amazement or full interest when having a conversation that piques her interest. showcases a polite half-smile in an attempt to come across as a trustworthy person, otherwise her gestures are timid and undemonstrative. ⋆ ― markings: scar large scar on her left ankle from a recent surgery, small scratches and some other bruises all over her legs and arms. ⋆ ― piercings: lobe and upper lobe on both ears. double helix on the right one. most of the time in yunhwa she’d cover them by letting her hair down and on those occasions where she feels like having it up in a ponytail or any updo, she only wears earrings on the standard lobe. silver and black jewelry pieces are the things she wears more often. ⋆ ― clothing style: ranges between casual and sport casual. jeans, shorts, graphic t-shirts, loose blouses, oversized sweaters are her go-to when her mother reproaches her about wearing leggings, joggers and sweatshirts too often. whenever she wants to look different and think more about what to wear, she asks yunmi for advice and will most likely go with whatever she tells her with minimal adjustments. she admittedly likes to wear flowy dresses in summer and skirts every now and then, but feminine clothing like that always makes her feel a little out of place and uncomfortable.

health

⋆ ― allergies: none ⋆ ― sleeping habits: 7-8 hours daily, throughout her life in college she developed the habit of waking up really early thus she’s considered a morning person. has more energy in the morning compared to the rest of the day and would often nap 20min-1hour in the afternoon. can easily fall asleep anywhere and most all the time, she sleeps on her side hugging something, which has been difficult to do so after the surgery. ⋆ ― eating habits: not a picky eater but a slow one. likes to take her time enjoying her meals and is usually the last one to finish her food. eats whatever presented to her and always up to try new dishes. has the habit of snacking between meals, though because of her previous strict regimen, her snacks were mostly fruits, vegetable and healthy snacks overall. now, she just eats whatever without caring about the calories count. ⋆ ― exercise habits: used to exercise daily on her own + the soccer practices. now, she has to go twice a week for physical therapy to a hospital in busan. ⋆ ― emotional stability: 6/10 ⋆ ― conditions: lesion - fractured ankle that required her to undergo surgery. ⋆ ― needs: glasses for reading, but wears contacts outside her home. currently wearing a walking boot / orthopedic shoe in her left foot thus she also uses crutches to walk around. however, this doesn’t apply much at home where she completely disregards the crutches and prefers skipping around with her healthy foot or carefully walking with the boot (though mindful of not applying too much weight on her left side.) ⋆ ― body temperature: average ⋆ ― drug use: none. ⋆ ― alcohol use: socially a handful of times in college, med-high tolerance.

family

⋆ ― father: shim junho ⋆ ― mother: jo minha ⋆ ― grandfather: shim changsook ⋆ ― grandmother: hwang moonhwa - deceased ⋆ ― sibling(s): shim yunhee (rooming with her) ⋆ ― pet(s): angora cat, mismatched eyes (deaf of one ear.) ⋆ ― social class: middle class ⋆ ― guardians: overbearing / absent ⋆ ― childhood: uneventful most times, popular in her soccer team

personality

⋆ ― label: the soiled dove ; someone who is sympathetic and full of hope. however, they can also be lost ⋆ ― positive traits: diligent, responsible, thoughtful, generous, creative, sensitive, kind hearted, honest, supportive, loyal, protective, calm (most of the time), polite, trustworthy, helpful. ⋆ ― negative traits: detached, distrustful, distant, stubborn, self-critical, impatient, conflict-averse, difficult to get to know, private, reserved, arrogant, fluctuating self-esteem, harsh, blunt, prideful. ⋆ ― hobbies: reading, playing video games, baking (just started learning how to), building/decorating things out of rusted or useless pieces from her grandfather’s garage or the station (of course, after asking if she can have them), talks to her cat sometimes (she’s convinced yuno understands everything she’s saying, she swears he even nodded once when she asked a question), people-watch, sitting by the beach and watch the sea for hours on end, used to climb over the roof to stargaze (misses this a lot). ⋆ ― habits: chewing the ends of pens, knuckle cracking, muttering under her breath when deep in thought/focused on something, talking to herself, snacking between meals, humming/singing to herself, hair twirling, gesturing while talking, tucking hair behind ears, peeling off bottle labels when anxious/worried, slouching, drumming fingers, rubbing the palm of her hand with her other thumb when nervous. ⋆ ― zodiac sign: sun capricorn, moon capricorn, rising libra ⋆ ― mbti: infp-t (he mediator) ⋆ ― subtype: ni (intuitive) ⋆ ― enneagram: 8w9 (the diplomat) ⋆ ― temperament: melancholic ⋆ ― threat level: moderate ⋆ ― approachability: amiable ⋆ ― anger: cold ⋆ ― hogwarts house: ravenclaw ⋆ ― moral alignment: chaotic neutral ⋆ ― primary vice: pride ⋆ ― primary virtue: diligence ⋆ ― preferred humor: stand up / wordplay / potentially offensive / absurd ⋆ ― type of drunk: happy / risk-taker (rare) / honest / sleepy ⋆ ― type of cry: reluctant / sniffle / unfazed ⋆ ― type of laugh: chuckle / huff / raucous (rare)

yunhee’s first impression is that of a calm person, gentle in her approach, even a little timid and soft spoken as she first introduces herself. however, these impressions can quickly change the more comfortable she feels around someone and, depending on the situation, she can be loud and blunt from the get go.

has a vibrant and creative way of thinking, something she’s sure she inherited directly from her grandparents. possesses a fine intuition and this has always allowed her to either establish meaningful connections or stay away from people that strike her as untrustworthy or dangerous.

heavily dislikes routine, monotony, stereotypes, conventionality, strict order, having to follow rules and regulations. she seeks new experiences and feels attracted to interesting and unusual people. this is a double-edged sword, however, for she can take unnecessary risks and be self-indulgent in certain vices for the sake of chasing thrills. can be really reckless and impulsive when feeling stuck and can take poor decisions because of this.

caring nature, the type to try to put others’ needs above her own and help her beloved ones through any situation that troubles them. she’d try to understand their true feelings and often gets protective of them. sensitive and attentive, she tries to maintain the relationships she builds and showcases tolerance to most flaws and weaknesses of others since she has trouble cutting off people that have exhausted her for she grows used to them.

externally she might seem serene or emotionless even, but in her heart she’s sentimentally predisposed, has bouts of moodiness and melancholy. regrets her mistakes and misfortunes for a long time due being able to recall experiences from the past down to the smallest detail. people can often perceive her to be emotionally blank or poker-faced, but when she’s challenged she can get very angry and passionate.

somewhat unsure in herself, she’s prone to doubt and hesitate in situations where she has to act decisively and doesn’t like to hurry. most likely will try to delay carrying out tasks and finding solutions to problems for an indefinite period of time. she will rarely ever promise something if she’s not able to keep it. on occasions, she knows how to patiently wait and adapt to any circumstances

yunhee will immediately shrink away from confrontations or at the very least try to not make them escalate, remaining quiet through them and hoping for them to be over soon. however, when injustice happens before her eyes, she’s not the type to stay quiet if the affected part does, stepping in if necessary (although with shaky hands, wavering resolution and immediate regrets). aggression and confrontation doesn’t sit well with her and she much prefers to do things her way, peacefully yet firmly.

background (tldr)

⋆ ― yunhee and yunmi are twins. ⋆ ― their parents are still very traditional and close-minded. also worked a lot and were really absent but were also overbearing, wanting certain paths for their daughters like studying medicine or something else. ⋆ ― its thanks to their grandparents that the twins can explore their interests and likes freely. ⋆ ― yunhee spent more time with their grandad, and he taught her a lot of useful things in order to be independent and solve problems on her own. he also taught her what he knows about cars and it’s something she easily absorbed and came to really love. ⋆ ― she used to love living in yunhwa but it soon becomes boring for her. there were a few exceptions to this like a city boy who used to visit and she’d spend all her days playing with him (until he stopped coming) or playing soccer with the other kids in her free time. ⋆ ― noticing this like of hers and how she started growing a little bored of it the more she played with the same kids, her grandfather helped her be part of an all girls soccer team in busan and he’d drive her there 3 times a week for practice. ⋆ ― ever since then she dreamed to become a professional player. ⋆ ― she was given a sports scholarship for a college in seoul, her parents were reluctant and they had to come to a compromise where yunhee would study accounting in exchange to be allowed to be part of the soccer team. ⋆ ― she thought she was leaving yunhwa for good. ⋆ ― yunhee then meets there her childhood friend, kitae, and after a couple of months they start dating (though they broke up in her junior year.) ⋆ ― in her senior year she got a really bad injury mid game and her ankle was fractured. it was so bad that she had to undergo surgery and the doctor advised her to never play again. ⋆ ― her parents used this chance to bring her back to yunhwa and that’s how she ended up there. she doesn’t go out though, the first months she spends them completely holed up in her room and only decided to go out a couple of days before the festival to welcome the new mayor (edited on feb 27). ⋆ ― however after a couple of months they demanded she got a job. which her grandpa helped her with and landed her one as one of the mechanic’s assistants. this is all because the owner owed him a favor. ⋆ ― she accepts right away, thinking she’d have the chance to help fixing cars but instead she’s asked to sort pieces, make inventory, help for the accounting or work the convenience store. the owner often says it’s because of her injury but she suspects it’s also because she’s a girl. ⋆ ― she’s supposed to go to physical therapy to recover and she allegedly does once every week, her dad or grandpa drive her to busan, drop her off and go to run some errands or do other stuff because she asked them to since she didn’t like the idea of them waiting. however, reality is that she didn’t want them to see her sneaking out to a nearby arcade where she spends the next 2 hours instead of attending therapy. this comes from her fear of never getting better or completely healed, so why trying in the first place right? ⋆ ― wears a walking boot / orthopaedical shoe and crutches in the present (sorry if i often repeat this while we plot or as i write, it’s important for her mobility and stuff)

background

born on january 8th at 12:06am, she’s yunmi’s twin with a difference of eleven minutes and thirty six seconds, something her sister rarely ever overlooks. hand in hand, two girls restlessly run around yunhwa while waving and cheerfully greeting every auntie and uncle they come across. named after the little town, the twins quickly made every street their playground and every building part of their imaginary kingdom. dog-shaped dragons were their pets and the adults who frowned upon them the evil-doers in their never ending fairy tale. at the end of every day, one last enemy remained, one that always tried to command them with “don’t run inside the house”, to control their minds with a “clean up your toys” and, lastly, with the most powerful spell they weren’t able to ever defeat: “time for bed”. mom.

growing up in yunhwa is initially fun, just how youth is supposed to be. full of laughter, getting easily marvelled by everything new and adoring the stories the elderly people eagerly shared with them. her early memories are mostly filled by these along with the ever comforting presence of her sister and grandparents, their parents busy making a living to provide for their little family.

as different as their birth times, one at the end of a day, the other at the beginning of the next one, the twins would grow up having contrasting interests thanks to the encouragement and support of their grandparents, something mom and dad would often frown upon.

while yunmi spent more time with their grandma, yunhee would do so with their grandpa. the old man, once one of the little town’s mechanics, always inculcated in yunhee the habit of being independent and learning to solve problems on her own. starting with childish riddles that would increase in difficulty as the girl grows up to changing a tire right when she turned fifteen, yunhee has always enjoyed the time spent with him and the lessons learned.

however, along the way, yunhwa became something yunhee knew well. a little too well. every corner, every pebble on the road, every stray dog… every little thing committed to her memory… and, eventually, she grew bored of the routines, the monotony, the same sights day after day.

there was a single exception though, and it was a boy that used to visit yunhwa. a boy a little too shy, a little too fearful and one that immediately made her feel protective towards him despite being a year older. days were spent playing together, her trying to bring him along to play with the other kids but never letting go of his hand whenever he reached for her.

she’d bid him goodbye when time came for them to go back home, and she’d rush to tell her family about the adventures they had. he made her days less boring, but at the same time, whenever he left yunhwa, it made everything fall back into the same tedious routine. this was a repetition each year, until he stopped coming altogether one day.

perhaps the first heartbreak she went through when waiting in their usual meet up place and he never arrived, but then she couldn’t blame him. yunhwa wasn’t a fun place to be in for too long.

another of the few things that were slightly different were the fun soccer matches she’d often have with the kids at her school. mixed teams were made in p.e. and only a handful of girls were part of it. yunhee immediately found joy in the sport, even asking to be part of the afterschool team that her grandfather coached as a hobby.

then again, monotony decided to befriend the sport she adored so much and it didn’t take her long to memorise exactly all of her teammates go-to moves and strategies when playing. she knew exactly when one of the boys would try to trick her into believing he’s going to kick the ball to the right only to kick to the left or how another would pour all of their energy into a sprint to get a headstart towards the goal.

her grandpa didn’t miss the way she’d sigh and stay on the bench, thus asking her what was wrong. not having the heart to lie to him, she told him how she felt and how boring and dull everything was. such words surprised the elder man for they were something an eleven years old shouldn’t be saying nor feeling.

so he talked to her parents, asking them to let her join an all-girls team in busan where he knew competitions and championships often happened. not liking the idea at all at first, they immediately refused, but upon noticing their usually cheerful girl skipping the games and spending her afternoons in her room, they reluctantly agreed.

it was one afternoon that he asked yunhee to accompany him somewhere, which much to her surprise, was busan. she thought it was nothing but a short trip, maybe one where they’d go to a big store of auto parts to stock up her father’s garage for his most recent project. she was excited anyway, always enjoying anything new.

what she didn’t expect was for him to drive her to soccer field where a bunch of girls her age were playing. yunhee immediately questioned him to which he simply replied “welcome to your new team.”

from that day, yunhee became part of a busan all-girls soccer team and her grandpa would drive her three times a week after school to practice. sometimes, her grandma and sister tagged along and she could hear them all cheering her up even if it was only a practice. games were the same, though her grandma made it her goal to make them all matching shirts with her name on it. it was thrilling, really, to be part of something like that and be able to do it outside of yunhwa.

her coach was a really nice woman and always pushed them to give their best on the field. one of the bigger lessons yunhee learned from her was to dream big. and so the girl did. at age fifteen, she had learnt about professional soccer teams scouting players that were part of varsity teams and from there, yunhee made it her goal to become a professional player and her every decision after that was headed in that direction.

she was good at it, too. fast and with a good intuition that allowed her to make calls that were not part of the initial strategy (which sometimes bothered her teammates), but this changed when she was appointed as the team’s captain for the last year before she was meant to go to college. that last year was crucial for her and the whole team, most of her teammates relied on the league’s results and the team’s performance for their future and so did yunhee.

with much effort and dedication, the team managed to won a really important league that granted her a sports scholarship in a renowned university to be part of the varsity team.

it came the time to make a decision on the career she was going to go for, endless possibilities laid in the brochure she was holding. yunhee was initially considering going for automotive or mechanical engineering, but she knew things were too good to be true the moment her parents sat her down to talk with her.

once again, they voiced their dislike for the decisions she was taking and tried to talk her out of being part of the soccer team and studying something so ‘masculine’. they masked this with concern about her getting hurt, but she could easily tell the whole idea just didn’t sit well with them and their traditional values. however, yunhee couldn’t be moved as it was all part of the plans she’s made for herself and stood her ground about her decisions. her mother threatened to not let her go and it was then that compromises had to be made. she was given the option to pick between dropping soccer altogether and study whatever she wants, or study what they think it’s better for her while still being able to play.

the decision was clear when she registered to major in accounting.

this doesn’t deter her from living her dreams and finally moving away from yunhwa when turning eighteen to seoul. the moment she boarded the plane, she made herself the promise to never look back with the sole intention to never return.

unexpectedly, she meets her childhood friend in a party thrown for the freshmen, the same guy that used to visit yunhwa when he was a kid. kitae. it’s surprising to find out he’s part of one of the sports teams (baseball) and it feels natural to pick up the friendship where they left off.

she’s known as one of the rookies to look forward to in the field and she goes above and beyond to get good grades in order to maintain the scholarship (and her parents off her back). yunhee invests herself a little too much in her studies and in soccer, saturating her schedule with practices and studying sessions to the point that she misses a lot of the college life as well as the city.

yunhee ignores this though, thinking that the way she was doing things was normal, only ever having another reference to this who was just as dedicated as she was.

she started dating kitae midway through the freshman year and all the way to her junior year before he unexpectedly broke up with her.

she’s admittedly not the same after this and yunhee starts to push herself to unimaginable limits only to keep herself busy. she started to double her training, even if most was done on her own, and her studies took up most of her night despite having to wake up before the sun came out.

then she turned twenty one, and this marked the beginning of the end: she was in her senior year, meaning that she’d graduate soon and, if she was lucky enough, some professional team would try to scout her for their team. she only had to deliver, win as many games and score as many goals as possible. twenty one was supposed to be the golden age where her dreams became plans and her plans turned into action.

but it wasn’t.

the team was set to have an important match with another school, both having a rivalry that’s gone for decades and it was clear that this match was of utmost importance for everyone. the students who knew her and her teammates, chanted every time they came across them and wished them good luck. the pressure was clear and tension lingered in the air.

the match started and for the first half, her team had a big lead against the opponent. there was energy running through their veins as they were in the locker room discussing their next strategy. yunhee, as the striker of the team, was excited to have scored two goals already and assist in another one. the whole team was confident and comfortable as the second kicked off.

as confident as they were, they failed to realise the other team was growing desperate and more aggressive in their defensive… at some point, yunhee got the ball and was set to score her third goal of the night… but a girl of the other team tried to stop her which resulted in a severe collision between them. pain is all yunhee feels as she falls onto the ground, a yell ripping through the field as she holds her ankle. the game is paused and the referee showing a red card on the other girl’s face is the last thing yunhee remembers before giving into the darkness

she wakes up to fluorescent lights and has to blink a couple of times. she has no recollection of what happened after she passed out and her parents briefly summarize all the events that came after. they told her she had to undergo surgery and that right now they’re waiting for the doctor. yunhee glances at her foot, propped up and the sight is not at all encouraging.

the doctor comes in to share some heartbreaking news, ones that she’s been expecting but it doesn’t make it any easier. she’s gotten her ankle fractured and even when the surgery was successful, she won’t be able to play soccer again. her hopes and aspirations shatter in that moment, watching the doctor leave and her parents share a complicit look that she doesn’t miss. she’s trying to process, trying to think when her mother says something she barely comprehends. yunhee asks her to repeat her words and when she does, anger is the first thing she feels though she conceals it

so she does, without much of a say and suddenly her whole life in seoul feels like a blurred dream. yunhee is back to her childhood room sharing it once again with yunmi and it all makes her feel like she’s regressed. like the last 4 years weren’t real. it’s a bittersweet sensation, the nostalgia always making her reminiscence fondly but the reality of what brought her back the town breaking her heart time and time again.

for the first month, she holes herself in her room and refuses to leave the house. even when they drive her to physical therapy, she finds ways to not go. either by sneaking to other places or waiting in the nearest bus stop until they picked her up again. it’s her little secret and she blatantly lies about her non-existent improvement. she’s good at it and they don’t push it.

however, her parents doesnt like that she’s her days away and even though she still has the boot and makes a million excuses to not do things, they demand she finds a job soon. preferably in the area she majored.

but she doesn’t listen, only complains to her grandfather who now lives with them and he immediately finds a solution. within two days, he comes back to tell her he got her a job at the gas station, the owner owing him a favor and paying it by hiring her. excitement sparkles in her eyes for a second and she notices how proud her grandpa is after sharing the news. always having a soft spot for the elder man, she accepts right away.

now she’s at the station but things don’t go as she expects it. the owner was reluctant to have her there for several reasons, and yunhee knew that one of them was because she was a girl and the other because she was still recovering. still, he honours the pact with her grandpa and keeps her around… only that she’s assigned to sort pieces, make inventory and help with the accounting.

things aren’t exactly perfect, and she’s not all that contented with the current situation, but being out of the house gives her a little purpose.

trivia

⋆ ― she’s really good with kids and when she was a teenager, she used to babysit in the afternoons when she didn’t have football practice. yunhee doesn’t question how or why kids also have an affinity for her, but she thinks it’s because of her grandfather being a casual coach of a small soccer team for years now. she helps him coach occasionally, especially on the weekends and shares strategies and tactics she learnt in college.

⋆ ― one of the few things she learned from her grandmother was baking and she’s actually decent at it, though she only bakes when she’s sad, stressed or angry. if she gives you a bag of cookies, something’s definitely wrong.

⋆ ― before she started playing soccer, one thing she got really into was reading, especially stories that took place in different countries, either fictional or real. she used to get home from school and read for the rest of the day. when her schedules got a little busier, she’d still try to sneak some reading in between activities. in the present, it’s not weird to see her carrying a book in her bag or hand and she enjoys going to the beach after work to read. her favorite genres are fantasy, romance, science fiction, suspense and thrillers, actions and adventures, crime and mystery basically everything that’s not horror.

⋆ ― their grandfather owned a 1967 ford mustang gt automatic yes, automatic. don’t @ me. that he used to drive around yunhwa with his wife. it was in this car where the twins learned to drive when they were 16 and it’s color is a beautiful teal, his wife’s favorite color. by the time the twins were 18, their grandpa decided to give the car to them. when they talked about their future plans of leaving yunhwa, he offered yunhee to take it to seoul to facilitate things, to which she excitedly agreed after getting her licence. however, after their grandma’s funeral and yunmi’s return, she decided to drive it back so yunmi could use it instead. after all, yunhee had it most of the times parked and rarely ever used it this has nothing to do with having a certain someone driving her around. now that yunhee is in yunhwa too, one thing she misses the most is driving it and has settled to the passenger seat while mimi’s the one behind the wheel.

⋆ ― there’s nothing yunhee wouldn’t do for yunmi. be it become her model, her guinea pig, a confident, a friend, someone to share secrets with, anything. yunhee would go above and beyond to ensure that yunmi is safe even if sometimes that doesn’t translate in the most appropriate ways (like absolutely loathing her exes). it might look like they hate each other by how they constantly banter, but behind all of that, there’s nothing but love.

⋆ ― in college, despite having the scholarship she wanted to make some money and managed to squeeze a job in between her schedules as a barista at a coffee shop within the campus. she saved every penny she made and the first thing she bought for herself was a nintendo switch. she still has it to this day and it pains her that the nearest place to buy physical games is busan. she still orders them online, but they take a little too long to arrive. she has some weird fixation to get physical copies over digital, don’t question her. in yunhwa she doesn’t use it as often, mostly at night before going to bed or on those dull and boring sundays.

⋆ ― she started making things with rusted pieces recently, exactly while she isolated herself when returning to yunhwa. one day she was at her grandpa’s garage and saw a pile of pieces he was going to throw away. yunhee asked if she could use them. from those things, she figured how to make some candle holders and decorated one of yunmi’s notebooks. she found fun in it and now is a regular hobby.

⋆ ― has an irrational fear of never recovering and as conflicting as it is, she’s been self-sabotaging by not attending ayn of the physical therapy appointments, instead sneaking into the arcade nearby to the hospital. update: she’s attending therapy now and they were able to remove the boot after a couple of months, now she doesn’t use neither boot or crutches and only has a slight limp.

⋆ ― she’s known the innkeeper since she was a little girl and the family trusts her enough to leave yunhee in her care. in the present, sira even keeps a room available for her whenever she doesn’t feel like staying home. yunhee calls it a home away from home so if you see her around the inn, that’s is why.

⋆ ― if you ask her what she wants to do with her life, she wouldn’t have an answer. she’s absolutely clueless and doesn’t dare to dream big anymore so she’s just living one day at a time. the only thing she’s sure about is leaving yunhwa and even that, she’s not that confident anymore.

goals

⋆ ― to forgive - yunhee feels it nestling within her heart. resentment that’s one step away from turning into hatred. she knows it’s not the other girl’s fault, the incident was all just a miscalculated movement. admittedly one that cost her the future she’s careful crafted for herself ever since young. one that pretty much forced her to return to the town she so desperately wants to run away from. somedays, revenge seems like a good idea and darker thoughts of how to get back at the girl that fractured her ankle slowly crawled into her mind and made it their home. however, she’s wiser and she’s been taught differently. yunhee wants to forgive the other girl. to forgive her parents for the lack of attention and the many things they’ve said in parental reproach. most importantly, she wants to forgive herself for the poor decisions she’s made. for relying so much in her talent and so little in a backup plan. for pushing herself to unimaginable limits. the process is not going to be easy, but at least she knows where to start.

⋆ ― to forget - yunhee thought, when leaving yunhwa for the very first time, that she’d never go back. she wouldn’t look back at the family she was leaving behind. it was easier that way. the girl didn’t have time nor need to dwell on what once was. she was fine living in the beautiful lie of her life being how it was meant to be. now, she’s back to the little town after kissing her life in seoul goodbye. for the first time, she allows herself to crane her neck and reminisce as she looks at the sea. the waves, the wind and the seagulls being the piano, the cello and the drums of her own personal orchestra as her eyes settle on the sunset. a beautiful view, one the city failed to provide.

there’s a weird sense of nostalgia, but not one she’s fond of. within her longing of the supposedly better life she was living comes the realisation that maybe things weren’t as fantastic as she once thought. something akin to sadness invades her when remembering a certain city boy. one that made every hardship more bearable. one that didn’t fail to present her with little secretive moments amidst the chaotic schedules they both had. she wonders, silently, where he is and what he’s doing.

a heartbeat later, she makes up the resolution to forget. to stop clinging onto the lingering hope that maybe, just maybe one day she’d be able to return as if nothing ever happened. to forget that one day she almost tasted glory and her dreams were within hand’s reach. that she once loved someone so deeply, so selflessly. to forget how he made her feel under his gaze and how she wanted nothing but his well being. how, instead of being self-centred as usual, she’d tried and tried to put his priorities before hers. how it was the first time she’s ever felt that way about anyone.

she’s going to forget it all for the heartbreak she brought upon herself will do nothing but stop her otherwise.

⋆ ― to live - it’s a simple reasoning, one her grandfather always reminds her of. “you need to live for yourself and no one else.” these words stay with her throughout her whole life, they’re a reassuring motto and what often keeps her going. she’s come to compromise with her parents in order to be able to achieve major dreams. still, being given a second chance, a start over, yunhee is not going to let it go to waste. the only problem arises when trying to figure out what’s next. what’s the next big step in shim yunhee’s scheme? no one, not even herself knows, but the little gas station her grandfather used to run is certainly a good way to start figuring it out.

extra

yunhee knows what to expect the moment the doctor enters her room. she can tell by the way he’s frowning at the files in his hands or how he’s going above and beyond to avoid her inquisitive eyes. it’s obvious in the beads of sweat he’s trying to conceal and the abnormally tense smile he’s flashing to her mother.

he briefs her parents on how the surgery went. the girl is only able to understand bits and pieces of all the technical information and she’s not even sure her parents comprehend either despite the attention they’re giving him. they’re just waiting for the inevitable and so is she.

finally, he looks at her, meets her eyes and it makes her wish he didn’t.

“yunhee, the surgery was successful and you’ll regain mobility with proper therapy.”

no, don’t say it.

“but you won’t be able to play soccer again, sorry.”

her heart drops and so all her dreams for the future with it. she’s heard of situations like hers before, they kind of what make up any player’s worst nightmares. for her, they were nothing but far fetched tales. she’d be absurdly unlucky to have her career ruined by something like that.

yet, there she was, watching the doctor leave the room and smile at a nurse as if the information he’d just given her didn’t absolutely shatter her whole world. she’s incredulous, hoping she misheard, hoping it was all a nightmare when her mother breaks the silence.

yunhee looks at her, trying to make sense of the words she’s saying so easily. her parents didn’t waste a second, didn’t give her time to properly process what’s happening while pushing her into something she knows she has no say in. she sees the poorly hidden relief in their faces, her parents have always been painfully transparent.

“what did you just say?” yunhee asks with a frown.

“you’re moving back to yunhwa with us.”

#INFO.TXT #YUNHEE.EXE #LOC.YUNHWA

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drabbleshy · 7 years

Text

of endless oceans and mortal gods

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11750733/chapters/26483289 AO3 profile: Drabbleshy

Published: 2017-08-09 Updated: 2017-08-08 Words: 1623 Chapters: 1/?

Summary:

“That’s one way of putting it,” the other retorted in a low utter as he dusted his book off, before pausing again, the book in both his hands now. “Sorry, did you just say-”

“What I think you said?” Apollo finished the inquiry for himself and the young man, too. The prior held his wrist very close to his chest. “Nope, bye!” Moirai avail me, he prayed mentally, quickly dashing down the streets of New York City.

Chapter 1 : It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea

Apollo sighed. It had been too damn early for the average, lucid person to be awake; then again, he doubted he was either. People had either been sleeping for hours by this time or had just come home from night shifts and nights of parties and booze and drinking and had passed out on the couch or the floor. Oft the latter for our hero. People, he found, weren't particularly inclined to wake at very peak of dawn. It had been a peculiar revelation to him, seeing as he had done it since the day he had been born. His parents' friends used to laugh at the fact that he had been born with the rising sun. It - his birth - had been rather sudden, the labor starting a little too quickly. His father, he reasoned, broke a law or two too many to get them to the hospital on time. "It's like you were born on a farm," his parents would tell him every morning when he was younger. When they were still... there. Gods, now he's made himself feel miserable. It had been about seven years now, approximately eight, but it hadn't stopped him from missing them. He figured that, as a child, losing your parents is just a big part of you. Forever.

He still remembered the day, in all its details, despite what others may tell him. His new guardians is what he called them, despite their gentle and, what they thought were subtle, nudges towards calling them Mom and Dad. His reply was always an astronomically simple one; "No." After which he'd leave the room or carry on with whatever scheme he was working on.

He shook his head and sighed. He can reminiscent of his parents later. Now is the time for one of the most consequential things in life: coffee! He paused and pouted, unsure where he was going. Well, he knew he where he was going, just not sure how to get there. He paused, surveying New York City with a determined look. Here, even minute streets could look familiar. He should have taken the subway, he knew that he should have done so since the moment he had passed the Lincoln Centre station. Now he was countless blocks away and he had seen no point in turning back now He supposed that if he turned right he could find a coffee shop near Central Park bu--

He stumbled forwards as somebody bumped into him. Turning around, he frowned at a puerile-looking man. The man smiled guiltily at Apollo, having forgotten to look ahead of himself as he walked. “Zeus, I apologise,” Apollo spoke first.

“That’s one way of putting it,” the other retorted in a low utter as he dusted his book off, before pausing again, the book in both his hands now. “Sorry, did you just say-”

“...” The unfamiliar man stared in the direction that the other had made his elusion towards, before running after him. “HEY, WAIT A SECOND!” He caught up to him after a few streets but lost him when a crowd broke them up. He tried finding him, his apparent soulmate , again, however, he couldn’t. The man had disappeared into thin air. Not that could be done. Nope. That is ridiculous, he thought. Oh, well. He should go get coffee, he’s got classes in… He gaped at his watch and decided to hurry. He’ll be late as is.

***

He ran into the independent coffee shop, one of his new favourites in town, and ran up to the counter, out of breath. Releasing a tired sigh, he answered his phone. It was too early, he hadn’t had his coffee yet, he was going to be late, his soulmate ran away, and now his father was calling him. Could this day get any worse? “‘Mornin’,” he answered, endeavoring to sound as awake and gleeful as he possibly could at the very moment. A pause. “Yes, I’m up. Yes, I’m on my way to class.” A longer pause. He turned to check if the man ahead of him had finished with his order yet, before he paused, turning around sharply. In a somewhat hushed voice, he replied once again, readjusting his beanie meanwhile;

“What? There’s no need to come here, Dad! … Dad, please, I have to leave a good impression and, and working hard on the first month is consequential. Maybe you should come and meet me here in a few months, yeah?”

This had been some quick thinking on his side. He didn’t exactly want to spend his first month in college keeping his father away from potential friends. Once, Dad had been worried that he would drown. While standing. In ten inches of water. When he was fifteen . Just because he was looking up at the sun and the sky for a few minutes. He recollected the even with a small chuckle, forgetting to actually listen to his father speak.

“--, okay?”

“What? Um, sorry, affirmative, of course!” He relinquished a loud and surprised oh ! “Look, I gotta go, I’m gonna be late! BYELOVEYOUDAD!” His father barely responded before the young man ended the call and raised his head. “COFFEE.”

The waitress gave him a look. The Look. “You can stop yelling now, dude.” This earned her a blink.

“Right, sorry.”

“Kids these days. First, your friend comes in here, almost running away without paying when ya show up and now you. Yelling.” He observed her, confused. Kids these days? Miss, you’re five years older than me, tops! he didn’t say. “Tell me your order and your name. My break is now, but my buddy there will make your coffee. Or whatever you want. So, what will it be?”

He couldn’t decide if her smile was genuine or not. He gave it a thought before figuring that she’s either happy for a break or just trying to be polite to the customers, trying not to get fired. Either one was fine with him, voraciously. He glanced behind her, smiling a bit more. The guy was cute at least. One point to “Icarus. The name is Icarus.”

***

Icarus, mind you, did get that guy’s number. Well, he was working on it actually. He got started on it. He got his name. Craig. It was a nice name, he figured. He was more thinking about the amount of cute and hot one person could hold within themselves.

The rest of the day went wonderfully, he even forgot about the random man who was plausibly his soulmate, as well as his dad-crises. His professor was late, too, having arrived and then remembered that he had forgotten to turn off an electrical appliance that was sure to burn the house down seven times out of ten. Icarus believes that it was a stove or an iron. He isn’t sure, he never listened to the adults too much, unless they were speaking about something he was truly interested in. Literature. His first classes had been “THE BEST THING EVER” according to him, and he was exhausted from the excitement only by the end of his last class. He ended up meeting a few people, adding each on his social media, whichever they preferred. Icarus nearly jumped through the roof from the exhilaration he felt when somebody gave him their actual Tumblr.

The day ended with few incidents: somebody always managed to make a ruckus behind him, above him, every few classes - it nearly got him into trouble, every time. Icarus ended up splitting from his new-found friends soon enough, or perhaps too soon, seeing as he had been messaging them within the hour. A few of them mentioned meeting up with a ‘ handsome guy from the class.’ Apparently, his name was something they hid, all seeming a bit too delighted to do so. He decided to try and ignore it, thinking that perhaps they had already formed a group joke or initiation of some sort; the lot knew each other, most of them, and most were not first-years at all. He sighed, rubbing at an eye as he locked his phone and pocketed it. He was glad that it was cool today, it gave him an excuse to wear a beanie and his favourite button-up sweater, too! He scowled, wishing that he could have more coffee, but he promised that he’d save! Well, promised himself. That means that he can’t break it, it’d be rude and dishonest to himself! He paused as his stomach grumbled, remembering that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch, in all that excitement!

He ceased where he stood, staring at his ebony black boots. He decided that taking a pause from walking home was a good, if not a great idea; he stepped onto the soil of the kids’ park, he sat into a free swing and pushed nonchalantly. The rocks pushed against each other, deeper into the ground, as his boots pushed against them all. He observed the beige rocks, the yellow leaves, he listened as the sounds of a nearby busy street and the wind that messed with stray locks that crowned his cheeks and even his plump, soft lips. Icarus smiled, raising arms with the wind, thoughts, fantasies of flight crawling into his mind. He hadn’t even noticed that someone had been in the seat beside him until the light-haired man interrupted his mind��s work, just as he had tasted the seas and oceans far away.

“WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?” yelled Apollo in his ear. Youch.

#ao3fic #greek mythology #apollo x icarus #apollo #icarus #greek mythology fic #fanfiction #fanfic #drabbleshy #gwbgc #ao3 #ao3 link #archive of our own #ao3link #ao3fanfic #modern!au #powers!au

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rustyh706151-blog · 7 years

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Of Hate Speeches, ‘Presidential’ Rodents, And Buhari’s Health

Hate speeches and dangerous rumours are the emotive ingredients that give birth to pogroms the world over.

Seeing both on the rise in this country, it makes sense that we try to nip them in the bud. It does appear, however, that the APC/Muhammadu Buhari administration is not getting the desired cooperation and support from the people in this regard. There is the suspicion that the administration simply wants to use hate speech as red herring and an excuse to clamp down on opposing views and opponents, just like it has tried to use its so-called war on corruption. Just like it has been selective in its war against corruption, this government has been selective as well in what it determines to be hate speech. It has narrowed it down to criticisms of the government or critical questions about what ails the president while completely ignoring the dangerous but patently false rumours circulating in the North that Buhari’s ill health was as a result of poison organised by an APC party chieftain from the South-West.

The ground is therefore being laid for an attack on people of the South-West in case of any eventualities concerning Buhari. Government has done nothing to dispel and combat this dangerous rumour. Government appears to have also taken sides as Nigerians trade hate speeches; just like it has been one-sided in its critical appointments and in the allocation of resources, favouring the Muslim areas of the North against the Middle Belt and the entire South. Hate speeches by IPOB, Niger Delta militants and pro-democracy activists from the South must be viciously put down while Arewa "quit orders," Fulani herdsmen’s atrocities, etc. are to be tolerated, even encouraged. This administration is seen generally to be hypocritical and dishonest. While it applies strict rules on others, it allows itself the luxury of laissez-faire. Many important members of this administration have been cited for double-speak and volte-face. The party itself has been accused of brazenly reneging on many of its election promises.

Talking of hate speech, President Buhari himself is a culprit. His campaign speech quoted above is one. With a spear swirling over his head in different directions, he called on his supporters in Hausa to "kill them" many times. His "monkeys and baboons will be soaked in blood" speech during the same 2011 presidential elections is also well known. It is likely that Buhari defenders will say he was trying to warn against rigging of the election but in the aftermath of those speeches, thousands of innocent Nigerians, mostly from the South and including Youth corpers, were murdered in chilling and cold blood across the North. Had the South retaliated, we might not have had the Nigeria whose "unity" Buhari lately described as non-negotiable and is ready to kill to defend, judging by his marching orders on the country ‘s military chiefs last week! Physician, heal thyself! Buhari has got to purge himself first before he will be qualified to point accusing fingers at others. When some talk of the "harshness" of Gov. Ayodele Fayose of Ekiti state on Buhari, have we forgotten how Lai Mohammed ceaselessly poured invectives on former President Goodluck Jonathan? Who invented the phrase "clueless and incompetent"? Fayose, Femi Fani-Kayode, and the PDP spokesperson, Dayo Adeyeye all rolled into one have not done half what Lai Mohammed did to Jonathan and PDP. Yet, he was not arrested; he was not even threatened. Why can’t APC/Buhari behave similarly to their own traducers? Rather than unleash the armed forces on those demanding self-determination – which Buhari supports and campaigns for, for the Palestinians and Western Sahara! – why can’t this government ignore them if it cannot dialogue with them, just like Jonathan/PDP ignored the then River state Gov. Rotimi Amaechi when he threatened that APC would form a parallel government and make the country ungovernable if it did not win the 2015 presidential election?

Amaechi is, today, a Minister of the Federal Republic. We can go on and on!

There are so many other statements that important members of this government have made that have returned to dog their steps; even as the embarrassing in-fighting between the various discordant power blocs within the Presidency show-cases absence of discipline, effective coordination, and coherence in the Buhari presidency. Witness, for instance, the dog-fight between the Minister of Justice and Attorney-General of the Federation and the acting chairman of the EFCC! As they say: Divided, they fall! Triple-barrel Minister, Babatunde Raji Fashola, boasted he would fix power supply in six months; more than two years down the line, he has left us worse than he met us. APC chieftain, Tony Momoh, boasted that if they did not fix the country in two years, Nigerians should stone them. Two years gone, they have fixed nothing. They met fuel at N86 per litre and boasted it would be more than halved but now it is N145 per litre. They met the Naira exchange rate at less than N200 to a US dollar but is now closer to N400 that N300. What have they improved upon since they came on board? What pisses off many Nigerians is their lack of integrity to admit their shortcomings; own up to the promises they made; and plead with us for understanding, patience, and cooperation. Instead, they have always tried to be clever by half; play the sophist; and draw the wool over our eyes. This way, they have lost the respect of many and forfeited the cooperation they sorely need.

Tell me, how many Nigerians believe the story that rodents ransacked and ruined the president’s office in his absence? It is a possibility, though, but because of the pedigree of this administration, not many will believe this as anything short of tales by the moonlight. The late Oba Asanike of Ibadan land once cried out to a bewildered nation that rodents had sacked him from the palace. And there were reports of rodents invading the White House of former President Jimmy Carter. As embarrassing as the event may seem, it is possible that rodents had actually caused some havoc in Buhari’s office and sacked the president. Needless to ask questions concerning whether there were no cleaners opening and cleaning the office during the president’s absence. What secrets were locked up in there that the place was never opened? We are not a nuclear-power nation, or else we might say perhaps the nuclear button or control room was stationed there. Because of the secretive nature of this government is why many are suspecting that the rodents’ story, as critical as it may seem in this era of Lassa fever spreading across the country, is a ruse to buy the president more time to rest or continue his medication, which had seen him spend 104 days non-stop in London. Whichever is the case; we should err on the side of caution and not take the risk of adding Lassa fever to whatever may be ailing Mr. President. Besides, the Buhari we had seen in the last one week sure needs more rest and we should indulge him with it. Like I have said, this president has become a bull in Nigeria’s china shop or a tsetse fly that perches dangerously on a man’s scrotum. Care is needed to extricate it. I know that many Nigerians will be disappointed that Buhari has not lived up to their expectations as a patriot imbued with the love of the nation and ready to make sacrifices for it. We should not force him. If he does not have it, then, he does not have it.

Some situations are uncanny and have a way of going from bad to worse. We had thought Jonathan was the ultimate evil from which we should run – but two years of Buhari and we know better. There was still some order and cohesion in Jonathan’s administration.

Soon, there could be fisticuffs between the Minister of Justice and the EFCC boss judging by the way things have deteriorated between them. And it does appear there is none who can call them to order. We never will be able to know whether matters would have been worse than this were Jonathan still the one in the saddle. APC boasts that the country would have collapsed – but we never can tell. Whatever we say remains firmly in the realm of conjectures. Why many now think we might have been better off with Jonathan, though, is the sheer cluelessness and incompetence – Aah! Those Lai Mohammed epithets coined specifically for Jonathan! – of the APC/Buhari administration; prompting many to conclude that they were mere power-mongers not prepared for governance in the real sense of the word. They keep shifting the goal post on when the economy will recover and get out of recession. They have got the country steeped in indebtedness with practically nothing to show for it in development terms. Crime waves are surging, with new entrants more than discounting the modest gains made on the Boko Haram front. Unemployment and suffering like never before experienced have submerged the land. Could it have been as bad as this – or could it have, in fact, been worse – had "Messiah" Buhari not come on board? Like I said, all such suppositions will forever remain in the realm of conjecture.

LAST WORD: "Eni kan l’o mo", as my people would say. It is the same as what Rita Marley, widow of Bob Marley, referred to as "who feels it knows it." People are dying – and many of it due to rampaging economic recession. Thursday before I sat down at Ikeja, Lagos to begin to scribble this in an office that has forgotten when last it saw power supplied by PHCN; I had stopped by at Shoprite to buy lunch and ran into a professional colleague who announced the passing away of another colleague. What killed him, I screamed. Economic recession, he announced without batting an eyelid. Two Saturdays ago, I was in Osogbo, Osun state for the burial of a friend’s wife, who got felled by marauders on the notorious Lokoja-Abuja road. I can go on and on. I dare to say that from what we read and from personal experiences, life gets cheaper by the day under this administration!

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missmungoe · 7 years

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BONDS, NOT CHAINS // Sabo x Koala & the fake married trope, but with a revolutionary twist.

“That’s the second tray of appetisers I’ve seen you shovel down since we got here.”

The murmur is almost lost beneath the din of the ballroom, but he doesn’t lift his eyes as he feels her manifest at his side, having sidled through the crowd on silent feet, although going by the number of gazes trained in their direction, Sabo doubts her attempts at stealth are at all necessary.

If she notices the amount of eyes on her, Koala doesn’t let on. “We didn’t come here to eat,” she reminds him, still sotto voce, but there’s a tinge of fond amusement there that’s about as old as their friendship.

“Not just to eat,” Sabo agrees, popping another canape in his mouth, before pilfering a silver tray from a passing waiter. Then, around a mouthful of salmon, “But these are really good.”

Koala slides him a look, and Sabo tries not to smile too much, allowing his eyes instead to do a sweep of the room. It’s still early in the evening, and quiet, the gentle twang of some unnamed instrument sitting beneath the steady susurrus of conversation, and the balmy evening air sifting in through the open balcony doors gives the entire room a soft, almost hazy feel.

It’s a simple enough job – infiltrate an annual masquerade ball as a newlywed baron and baroness, pilfer incriminating information along with the appetisers, and topple a small kingdom before the night is done. Simple, meaning something is bound to go tits-up, although so far the evening has progressed without a hitch.

The mask sits uncomfortably tight over the scar, and the cravat is a little stifling at his neck – a stiffer one than he’s used to, his shirt’s high collar following the current, local fashion. The brocade waistcoat is a bit too much for his usual style, too, but it wouldn’t do with anything less if they’d harboured any hopes of blending in with the rest of the guests.

But – it comes surprisingly easy, Sabo finds; the manners ingrained since birth, resurfacing now seemingly without a thought. All the little courtesies and the unique language of canape small-talk that he’d once observed his parents making, and that he shouldn’t remember but does, more than ten years later. And he doesn’t know what he feels about it – that this was a world he’d belonged to, once. The fact that, stifling cravat and ridiculous mask notwithstanding, he doesn’t feel as out of place as he’d hoped he would.

For her part, Koala doesn’t seem any less at ease, as comfortable in soft pink chiffon and silk gloves as her usual attire, although Sabo can’t help but feel that they should be doing something other than just standing around. Except the dancing hasn’t started, and they still have a job to do. And with the amount of people staring in her direction – and his, he notices now, swallowing as he catches the tail-end of a distinctly appreciative glance – it feels suddenly like they’re not playing their parts right.

“Feed me one,” Koala says then, and Sabo nearly chokes on the salmon puff in his mouth.

“What?”

Her expression doesn’t so much as twitch, but her eyes are practically gleaming behind her mask. “Feed me a salmon puff,” she repeats, reaching out to smooth her fingers over the cravat at his neck, in a show of making sure it’s impeccable. “We’re supposed to be newlyweds. It’ll help sell the ruse.”

He’s tempted to tell her that no self-respecting couple would feed each other in public, no matter how obnoxiously smitten, but then she turns her eyes on him, dark blue behind the rose-gold of her mask, and he promptly forgets what he’d been about to say. And so he lifts the appetiser, momentarily distracted by the adoring look she’s plastered on her face now, cheeks and mask lifting with her smile as he holds the salmon puff out for her to take.

And when she closes her mouth over it, teeth nipping at his fingers and her eyes still holding his, there’s a moment where Sabo can’t remember what in the world they’re even supposed to be doing.

Drawing back, Koala chews, a soft sound of pleasure sitting at the back of her throat, and – “Thank you, dear,” she says, tongue darting out along her lower lip, and it takes effort to drag his eyes away from the sight.

Clearing his throat, Sabo manages to drop his gaze, the collar of his shirt suddenly suffocating. “A bit over the top?” he murmurs, and hears her answering laugh, thick and throaty.

“Just putting on a show,” she hums, voice too soft for anyone else to pick up. Then, a little louder, “Something the matter, Sabo-kun?”

He cuts her a look, but it’s hard to keep his smile, and – “You’re enjoying this way too much,” he says then, a laughing sigh tumbling out with the words.

He watches her eyes drop, her smile small and pleased, and she gives a shrug of her shoulders, bare as they are – her dress gathers at the neck, and has no sleeves. It hides the mark on her back, but does nothing to hide the lithe, sinewy muscles in her arms, far too defined for a noble’s delicate trophy wife. She usually doesn’t wear them bare outside of training, and he has the sudden urge to tell her that she should, but stuffs a salmon puff in his mouth and swallows it along with the remark.

A voice from behind them then, rising above the muted din of conversation – “I couldn’t help but notice – you two are so very sweet.”

Gloved fingers latching onto his elbow, Koala turns them around to face the elderly lady having addressed them, a pretty wife’s elation at getting to show off her new husband and station bright in all her movements. And it takes him a moment to follow suit, mouth still full of salmon and fighting the distraction that’s presented itself in the soft press of her curves against his side.

The woman’s eyes lift at the corners, laugh-lines etched deep. She’s alone, but the coronet nestled in her grey curls tells him she’s not just a regular noble. “You remind me of me and my late husband,” she sighs. “Are you newly married?”

The grip on his arm tightens, and Sabo almost doesn’t recognise Koala’s voice when she coos, “Just a few weeks.”

“Oh, those are the best,” the woman agrees. “The very first.” She laughs, a sharp, trilling cackle. “A small wonder you get anything done!”

The smile on his face feels so stiff it takes effort to soften it without letting it slip into a grimace, and he divides his attention between observing the rest of the ballroom, and the nosy woman who’s apparently decided to make them her source of entertainment for the evening.

“Was it a big wedding?” she asks then, and Koala’s sigh falls with enough girlish longing that it’s a little disconcerting.

“Several hundred guests. We have, ah – a lot of friends.”

He’s almost tempted to smile at the truth she’d slipped into that response, but schools his face into a careful mask of polite interest tinged with an indulging sort of patience.

“Well I’d expect nothing less, to show off such a pretty young bride!” the woman titters, the remark directed at Sabo. He manages a chuckle in response, a little forced at first, but prompted in truth by the too-clever twinkle in Koala’s eyes as she slips him a glance.

And so the conversation continues – how many guests, and were there tears, and had they planned on where to settle down yet? – until he’s tuned out most of the questions, face carefully blank but his eyes tracking the movements of the few Government officials gathered – and the king himself, making the rounds, laughter loud and carrying across the ballroom.

“Any plans for children?”

Sabo stiffens, all thoughts of the job forgotten at the question. And he doesn’t even know what he expects Koala’s response to be to that; they have their cover story, an overly-embellished account of how they first met, the details of their courtship and the date and place of their wedding, and he’d teased Hack for spending too much time cooking it up.

But children – not even Hack’s imagination had covered that much.

“We haven’t really gotten that far!” Koala laughs, her character not even slipping for a second, and Sabo spares a thought of gratitude to her quick reaction – and a twinge of guilt for thinking that she’d be caught off guard in the first place.

But then – “I’d like more than one, though,” she says, and Sabo blinks, because the voice she uses now is one he recognises – not the girlish lilt of his pretend wife, but her own; gentle and honest.

Glancing down at her, it’s to find her gaze dropping, and her smile soft. “I don’t have any siblings,” she says. “It was just me and my mother, growing up. But I remember wishing I’d had someone – a sister or a brother.”

Then, looking up at Sabo, “And when you talk about your brothers you’re always so happy,” she says, her look so earnest, if he didn’t know her as well as he does he might have thought it all part of an incredibly convincing act.

She shrugs, turning her gaze back to the woman, and with her next breath her mask has slipped back into place. “I’d like that – a small brood.” And then, the slight incline of her head a shy wife’s deference, “If he doesn’t mind,” she adds.

It’s difficult finding the voice to speak, and the woman is expecting an answer, Sabo sees, although he doesn’t have the mind to stay in-character now, but – “I wouldn’t mind,” he says, voice a little rough, and he hears the truth in the words even before he catches Koala’s surprised look, and sees those old eyes curve with a pleased smile.

“You seem to have married a good man,” the woman says to Koala, something old and fond in her expression now.

“Yeah,” Koala answers, and the tuck of her hand in the crook of his elbow tightens its grip again. “The best.”

Eyes twinkling, the woman offers Sabo a knowing glance. “But then you usually can’t go wrong with someone who looks at you like that,” she observes, and with a laugh and a touch to Koala’s shoulder she’s making her way back into the crowd, leaving them where they’re standing, just a little more awkward than before her intrusion.

There’s a moment where they both make a point of not looking at each other, although Koala still hasn’t let go of his arm, Sabo notes.

“So,” he says then, clearing his throat. “You, ah – you want kids?”

Still refusing to look at him, she shrugs her shoulders. “I mean– it’s not something I think about a lot, but…yeah.” Her smile falls a bit. “I know it’s not a good world to bring children into, but I like to think the one we’re fighting for will be. Some day.”

Something about the way she says it strikes him, and for a moment he feels short of breath. And he hasn’t considered it before – having kids. Now that he remembers it, his own upbringing isn’t exactly an inspiration, his parents cold and their touches hard, and the weight of his future station too heavy for a child’s shoulders.

But thinking about Dadan, all warmth and bluster, and Ace and Luffy–

“What would ours be like?” Sabo asks, before he can stop himself, and he doesn’t even know if he’s asking as her fake husband-for-the-evening, or as himself.

Her expression doesn’t reveal which one she thinks it is, but, “A girl,” Koala says, smile curving around the word. “With your curls. And then two boys.” She hums, the sound soft and contemplative, before she adds, “Twins.”

His laugh is a startled sound. “Twins are a lot of work.”

“We’d have help.”

“Oh really?”

“Hack would babysit.”

“Our kids would know how to throw a punch before they learned to walk,” Sabo deadpans.

“I don’t see a problem,” Koala says. Then, expression softening, “The girl would be your favourite. She’d be a lot like you.”

Something about that prospect makes his heart do a stutter in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Hmm. Too much trouble,” she chirps.

Sabo grins. “And the twins?”

He doesn’t know which roles they’re inhabiting now – if they’re still keeping up appearances, but he’s vaguely aware that they’re touching upon a subject that rings a bit too intimate for mere friends – for partners, on a job, and with that realisation dawning he’s brought back to where they are, and what they’re there to do.

“It’s getting late,” he says then, the remark offhand – any casual observer would make no note of it, but he catches Koala’s nod.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she says, voice louder than necessary, and he watches her eyes glide across the people gathered, lingering only a second on the king, standing within a small circle of guests on the far side of the room towards the balconies.

It’s as good a time as any to make their move, but before he can offer a comment she’s lifted up on her toes, and pressing a kiss to his cheek – “I’ll cover the top floor. If he’s hiding anything, it’ll be behind one of those big doors we saw when we scoped the place out yesterday,” she murmurs against his ear, her lips ghosting across his cheek beneath the mask, and Sabo loses all his words. And she’s not any closer than usual, given her penchant for invading his personal space, but the added combination of her low voice in his ear and her lips against his skin–

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, assume something’s gone wrong,” she adds, giving his arm a squeeze, her eyes holding his for the span of a heartbeat, before she lets her gaze drop.

Then she’s settled back on her heels, turning away from him to make for the double doors on the other side of the ballroom, the skirt of her dress wrapping like water around her legs; the ebb and swell of the fabric making it suddenly hard to focus on anything else. And it takes him a moment to release the breath he’s been holding, feeling his entire body sink with the exhale as he watches her disappear among the gathered people, the sea of silk and sheer fabrics swallowing her up.

His heart leaping against his ribcage, Sabo wonders idly if she’d felt it when she’d pressed herself close. Because the sound of it sits, loud and condemning in his ears, and his back is slick with sweat beneath his shirt and vest, although even with his devil fruit he suspects there’s something else entirely that makes his breath feel so light in his chest.

He catches another knowing glance from the nosy lady from before, standing off to his right now, and has to duck his head, the facade as the flustered newlywed not even needing to be feigned. And he doesn’t even need to check his reflection in one of the balcony windows to know that his cheeks must match his vest by now.

Tugging at his cravat helps him breathe a little easier, but the last half of their conversation still lingers, and the kiss, both distracting enough that it makes it difficult to keep his focus on the crowd, and the job.

He turns down three separate offers to dance – his smile apologetic but not too much, a new husband’s excuse of waiting for his wife offered with a half-sheepish, half-adoring smile. And the word sits, a strangely comfortable weight on his tongue, for all that he’s been using it less than a day.

Then, having gathered his wits somewhat – and downed his distraction with a glass of champagne – Sabo busies himself with watching the crowded ballroom. Hack and the others are stationed elsewhere, well out of sight for the time being, and it’s just the two of them within the actual palace.

But – the king is gone now, Sabo notices, brow furrowing with the realisation; the action tugging at the mask. There’s no sign of the brightly coloured robes, or the booming laughter. Sometime in the past few minutes he must have slipped out, and there’s a curl of worry in his gut – along with a pang of regret for having been so distracted he’d let it escape his notice.

He’s not carrying a baby Den Den Mushi, and neither is Koala – there’d be no place for her to hide it with that dress, and the point was not to draw too much attention to themselves. But he regrets it now as the minutes tick by and there’s still no sign of her, or the king, and he allows his gaze to scour the length of the ballroom several times, looking for a slip of pink amidst the chaos of colour and sound.

Ten minutes have passed when he tosses back his glass and makes to follow. Any other person he might have given another minute, but this is Koala, and she’s never anything but entirely punctual. Had it been him the matter would be of a different sort. He might have gotten lost, or had the minutes go by without his notice, but she wouldn’t, and it’s with that knowledge drumming against his skull that he moves to cross the ballroom.

He gets to take exactly two steps before the heavy double doors on the other end are thrown open, admitting their host for the evening, garish robes flaring and features pulled tight with fury – and dragging behind him, much to Sabo’s horror, Koala.

The crowd parts, scattering like colourful koi in a pond to let him through, and a shudder of murmurs and gasps washes across the room, half-drowned by the heavy footfalls on the marble as the king moves towards the centre. And for a moment Sabo doesn’t know what to do – mind racing for a way to salvage their operation, or at the very least, get them out without compromising the others.

Fingers clamped around her elbow, the king tosses her to the floor – something she could have easily turned to her advantage, Sabo knows, and is surprised when she doesn’t even move to catch herself.

But then he sees her dress, ripped down the length of her back to expose the mark, and for a moment his shock is so great it overwhelms the fury that physically leaps within him.

And she’s – frozen, Sabo sees. On her hands and knees, back bent and exposed and her entire posture stiff, her mask missing, and she’s got her brow all but pressed to the floor. And he wants to speak – to ask what the hell she’s doing, why she didn’t cave his ribcage in for even touching her, let alone exposing her like this, but before he can get the words out–

“A convenient placement for a brand like that,” the king says, booming voice carrying across the crowd, silencing the murmurs. “It’s a pretty substitute, if a poor one.”

Then, “This slave is the property of the world nobles,” he announces, but he’s not addressing Koala, but the guests. “Covering up their mark with your own is...bold, I’ll grant you, but ultimately foolish. Not to mention illegal.”

Sabo’s heart lodges itself in his throat, along with a shout. And there’s a moment where he expects her to push to her feet – palms flat and back straight, prepared to carve a path through the guests and the king and the guards who’ve now gathered by the exists. But she doesn’t move, sitting so still he can’t even tell if she’s breathing.

“Now,” the king says, lifting his eyes to the room, gaze accusing as it makes a sweep across the nobles gathered. “Which one of you does this one belong to? You might as well come out with it now, because I will find out. And when I do, be sure that your punishment won’t be for the appropriation of a slave, but whatever you hoped to achieve here tonight.” He offers a glance at Koala. “So? Who do you belong to, girl?”

She has to be playing along, Sabo decides – to keep the new ruse going, no doubt. Maybe Hack is upstairs, finding those documents she’d been looking for. Which means he can’t ruin it by losing his cool, except–

Except there are people looking at him now, stealing furtive glances – people who’d seen them together earlier, the happy young newlyweds. And he knows the game must be up, and is waiting for the accusation to be placed, mind reeling to think up a plausible explanation, to buy the others more time–

“I’m– I’m sorry,” Koala blurts then, in the smallest voice he’s ever heard, and the quaver in it is so startling Sabo forgets everything even resembling a plan.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, and she’s curled in on herself now, shoulder blades sharp beneath the curve of her naked back, and the brand bright red against the soft rose of her ruined dress. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

And – her acting is so good Sabo is half convinced it’s real, so much so that he fears whatever he’s able to string together on the spot won’t be half as convincing.

But watching her now, there’s something off about her performance, and suddenly he has no mind for himself, because there’s a hot sort of anger sitting under his skin, pushing against it. And with his heart going still in his chest, he fixes his gaze on the curve of her back – a protective, keenly deferential gesture, but familiar, as though she’s done it before, and so many times it comes as naturally to her as all his old mannerisms do to him.

Realisation has dawned before she opens her mouth to speak again, her voice still trembling, and too much now to be pretend, the fear too potent to be fake, “I’m s–”

Fury explodes within him, shoving him forward, and he’s moving before the words have left her mouth, wrapped in fire and a shout tearing loose of his chest. And the crowd parts in truth now, scattering as the flames carve an arc through the room, catching on hemlines and draperies but he has no mind to care – has no mind for anything but the small shape huddled on the marble floor ahead of him, at the heart of the circle of flames that have engulfed the room.

He’s kneeling beside her before he’s had the chance to draw breath, and he feels her jerk in response to the press of his palm against her back, the gesture entirely deliberate, because whatever’s got her in this state, he has to get her out of it, and quickly, because there’s no salvaging this operation now, but they still need to get out of the palace.

She meets his eyes then, her own unnaturally blank. And Sabo watches the reflection of his flames in them, and – it takes her a moment, but then she seems to come back to herself, as though from somewhere far away, and when she looks at him next there’s confusion etched into her features.

“Escape first,” Sabo says, before she can speak, fingers curving under her elbow, helping her to her feet and holding her dress together with his other hand. “Talk later. Sound good?”

Koala nods, and – noticing him keeping the back of her dress together, “Leave it,” she says, voice hoarse, but that quaver from before is gone, he’s relieved to discover. And so he complies, allowing the ruined fabric to drop, exposing her back in full, and when she squares her shoulders next there’s a hard press to her mouth, and he tightens his grip on her elbow, silently seeking assurance.

She shakes her head, and Sabo doesn’t push. Instead he grips her elbow again, not seeking assurance now but offering it, her bare skin soft under his palm, and he allows his touch to linger a moment before he lets his hand drop, and when he moves he doesn’t have to look back to know that she’s right behind him.

It’s easy, with the chaos brought about by the fire, to slip past the guards with minimal effort, and the ones they come across they make quick work of. And had it been any other mission they might have done a final search of the palace – exploited the chaos for all it was worth, but with the events of the night still fresh in his thoughts, finishing the job is the last thing on his mind.

They escape over one of the balconies, stealing into the gardens surrounding the palace, sitting behind them now, engulfed in flames; fire lapping at gilded balustrades and archways, and plumes of smoke rising into the night sky. The guests are spilling into the gardens, stretching across the palace grounds into the distance, but they’ve covered most of it already, following the route they’d mapped the day before, until his breath sits like a stone in his chest and the taste of blood is sharp on his tongue.

Then, just beyond a secluded enclosure – a private corner of the gardens tucked away behind a towering wall of trimmed bushes – Sabo staggers to a stop between the maples, Koala following suit, breath ragged and the skirt of her dress gripped between shaking fingers.

It takes him less than a second to determine that they haven’t been followed, before he’s tugging loose the collar of his shirt along with the cravat, allowing himself to breathe. And then he’s making for where she’s dropped to her knees in the grass, his heart-rate settling into something manageable now that they’re out of the immediate vicinity of the palace, but all thoughts of the job shoved to the back of his mind in favour of Koala.

Reaching out to touch her, Sabo hesitates, but whatever had gripped her back in the ballroom seems to have relented, and when she lifts her eyes to his there’s not a trace of the expression he’d found on her face when she’d been curled in on herself on the marble floor.

Her exhale makes her shoulders sink, but it’s a shuddering sort of relief, and the trembling purse of her mouth is testament enough to what she’s really feeling.

“Sor–” But she stops herself, another breath tearing loose, a harsher sound this time, and Sabo watches as horror chases across her features, the expression so brief but so wrought, it strikes like a slap.

“I don’t know where that came from,” she says instead. “I–” And he watches the thoughts passing behind her eyes, numerous and nameless.

“He knew,” she says then, the words quiet – he would have called them marvelling, if it hadn’t been for the trickle of fear slipping into her voice. “It was like he could tell. That I’m– that I was a–”

She looks at him, shaking her head, and the look on her face makes him want to go back and set fire to the king – to the whole damn, corrupt country. “It was like someone flipped a switch,” she croaks. “One moment I was about to knock him unconscious, but then he–”

She stops, and shakes her head. “How did he know? The dress. He just– he just knew.”

“A lucky guess,” Sabo says then, even as he hears how feeble that assurance sounds. But then, brows furrowing – “Or it was the dress,” he says, eyes glancing off what’s left of it now, the hem still gripped between her fingers but the fabric at her back hanging open. “A lot of the other women wore dresses with open backs. The current fashion, probably. Yours stood out.”

Koala doesn’t say anything, and he realises belatedly that even offered as an assurance – that there’s no way to tell just from the look of her, what she was in her past – it also carries the weight of blame with it; that maybe she ought to have been with Hack, instead of on the inside with him.

And – “Figured it was my turn,” she says then, proving his suspicions right, her mouth lifting in a keenly self-deprecating smile, before it falls. “To jeopardise an operation.”

“Koala.” She flinches at the way he says it, but the need for her to understand is too great to think about how it comes across. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Pressing her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose, the sigh that leaves her now is a sharp gust – too sharp to be the laugh she tries for. “I didn’t get the documents,” she says. “The palace is on fire–”

“I’m pretty sure that one’s on me,” Sabo offers.

“–and Dragon-san said this was an important job,” she says, ignoring his interjection. “And this was our best shot. Now they’re aware someone is snooping around, and I–” She allows her shoulders to drop, and then, “I thought it was behind me,” she says. “My past.”

My past, and the words strike home with more force than she could have consciously intended, but when he considers them now they don’t spark the same ache behind his ribs as he’s come to expect. Instead the weight that settles is a comfortable one – not like resignation, but acceptance, long sought after, although maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that she’d be the one to inspire it at last.

“Back before I regained my memories,” Sabo says, and watches Koala’s gaze lift. “I used to wonder where I got them, all these…impulses. I’d have these knee-jerk reactions that I couldn’t explain. A woman would walk into a room and I’d feel the urge to rise from my chair. Someone would lift a hand in greeting and I’d – flinch.” The last example isn’t something he’s admitted to anyone, but he sees the understanding as it settles in her eyes now.

“I’d always say please, like a reflex,” he continues, and the laugh that follows is short. “Remember the grief you guys used to give me for that?” Luffy and Ace had, too, although for so long Sabo hadn’t remembered.

“I know it’s not the same,” he says then, when she hasn’t spoken. “But some things just – stick, whether we like it or not. But they’re just habits. Like scars. Sometimes the body remembers, even if you’ve moved on.”

He feels her gaze, lingering a moment on the mask he’s still wearing, but Sabo knows she’s thinking about the scar underneath, and so he shrugs. “Old habits or scars…they don’t decide who you are. Or who you were.” And he doesn’t know whose sake he’s saying it for, really – hers or his, but he suspects it might be the latter, remembering the scene in the ballroom, and the gut-sinking realisation that he’d once been part of that world. That in another reality, he might have–

Koala’s mouth quirks. “I’ve always liked that you say ‘please’,” she says.

Sabo smiles, but it turns hard when he adds, “It was ingrained pretty early.” A shrug tries to shake off some of the tension in his shoulders. “But it’s mine now. I’ll say ‘please’ because I want to, not because someone expects it of me. There’s a kind of freedom in that – reclaiming things for yourself.”

She doesn’t answer, but looking at her he finds a contemplative furrow to her brow. And he wonders how many times she’s spoken the words I’m sorry and felt like spitting them out instead. He doesn’t ask for the story behind them, able to fill in the gaps with little trouble – the way she’d spoken them, almost like a mantra, was telling enough.

Thinking about it makes his hands twitch, the fire under his skin itching to torch the palace grounds around them.

A shiver races across her bare arms then, and he’s brought back rather rudely to the fact that despite the balmy air, she’s wearing markedly less than he is – and she doesn’t have his body temperature to begin with.

He’s shrugging off his jacket before the thought has had time to properly manifest, but she doesn’t decline it when he moves to place it over her shoulders.

Looking up at him, her smile is a tired thing. “You looked nice tonight,” she says, pulling the jacket closer around herself.

Sabo grins. “I wasn’t the only one.” Then at her dry look, “I think we made a pretty convincing couple. Until I set the place on fire. That probably didn’t help sell the part.”

Her smile comes quite despite herself, he can tell, although the slight purse of her mouth tells him she still considers it to be her fault. “Probably not.”

“Hey,” Sabo says then, the thought springing to mind and pushing off his tongue before he can think the better of it. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. About our kids.”

She blinks, before her smile quirks. “The twins?”

He grins. “Troublemakers? They’d have to be, with us for parents.”

She hums, the sound not quite a laugh but close. “Troublemakers with manners.” Then, tilting her head, there’s a look in her eyes that he can’t read, before she says, “But they’d all be their own person, no matter who we are. And – no matter what happens.”

It’s all pretend, he knows that, but despite himself the image rises – three tiny makers of mischief, corkscrew curls and a whole world at their feet. Three distinct personalities, but none of them shaped by fear – not of hands raised to strike, and the word please either cheeky or earnest, never spoken in defence. And he wants to tell her that it’s not a wrong thing to want, even in this world – perhaps especially in this world, but the words have lodged themselves in his chest, because there’s a suggestion there that feels too soon, even as the realisation comes to settle with staggering calm within him, that he really wouldn’t mind, if it was her – if it was them, in the end.

But marriage carries implications that he hadn’t considered before tonight – the concept of belonging to someone, even if the bonds are kinder. He hadn’t given a thought to what it might mean to her, even as make-believe.

“Come on,” he says, rising to his feet, and holding out his hand. “We should get going. Even if they’ll be busy putting out that fire for a good long while, it doesn’t mean they won’t have people looking. And we need to find Hack and the others.”

Koala nods, but when she wraps her fingers around his her grip is tight, and when he hoists her to her feet she moves with him, until they’re standing just a few inches apart. A different scene than the one she’d put on in the ballroom, latched onto his arm, all adoring smiles and exaggerated sighs. She’s got her fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, and it had been a tight fit on him but it dwarfs her, the shoulders too wide and the sleeves slipping down her wrists, to gather at her elbows.

“Hey,” she says then, fiddling with the lapels. And she’s not meeting his eyes now, although she hasn’t made to move away, Sabo notes. “How did you like being married?”

He has a mind to wonder if she’s asking in order to distract herself from the events of the night, or if she’s genuinely curious – or if it’s something else entirely that has to do with how close she’s standing now. But whichever it is, Sabo feels his smile curve.

“In general, or to you?”

She looks up at him, and he finds the answer in her eyes – that too-honest weight of her gaze that feels like one of her punches. There’s no evading a look like that, or what it implies, and he only spares it a moment’s consideration before he gives himself over.

“I think,” he says at length, “that one night in stiff clothes and being ridiculous in public isn’t enough to make an informed decision.”

Unbidden, the image rises behind his eyes, of the way she’d looked at him when he’d fed her that canape, and he’s glad of the cool night air now, finding his ears warming with the thought.

“But,” he adds, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think I’d be averse to it. In the future.”

“Marriage in general?” Koala asks, but keeps the second half of the question unspoken, even as he reads it on her entire face, along with the suggestion he’d been afraid to offer, just a moment ago.

And there will be a better time to broach this subject, Sabo knows – any time, really, that’s not in the middle of a botched operation that quite literally went up in flames around them.

But – “No,” he says, and when he leans forward it’s to press a kiss to her brow, and he hears in the way her breath catches that she hadn’t seen that coming. And maybe it’s a small payback for that canape, but there isn’t a shred of pretending in his voice when he adds, honestly–

“Not in general.”

#Sabo #One Piece Sabo #One Piece Koala #Sabo x Koala #Saboala #Sabo/Koala #One Piece #One Piece fanfiction #opfanfiction #opfanfic #my fic #mungoe writes

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arielsojourner · 7 years

Text

Part 10.

-Barriss Offee is a padawan on the edge of Knighthood. Her master has recommended her for the trials but for now she is on the battlefield and when she is not fighting and watching troops and civilians die in a war that doesn’t seem to end, she is in triage, healing as much as she can. Her Master instructs her to finish escorting the injured to a medical facility and then travel to Coruscant for her trials and hopefully her knighting before taking command of her own Battalion.

It is while she on the transport to one of the medical facilities for clone troopers that she first hears the rumors, the gossip, the whispers. The war is over, they say. Jedi are working with reformed Sith to stop the war. Troopers that were once enslaved are free. Kamino has gone silent, the cadets have vanished. There are no more new troopers.

When she arrives at the medical base, her patients are whisked away and the Commander of the base, a clone medic named Patch, seems cautious around her. She asks to speak to the Kaminoan doctor and finds that he is not present. She demands to know what is going on and Commander Patch relents and explains. Before she can finish reviewing the records, medical charts, recovering troopers, and security holo recordings of the Jedi visit in detail, a trooper comes in to tell her that Master Unduil has asked that Barriss contact her immediately and explain why she has been delayed. Patch and the others are silent, watchful, and tense as they wait for her answer. She gives the trooper her gratitude for passing on the message and then asks Patch to provide her the more detailed medical scans and genetic profile of the clones so she can being to figure out how to use the Force to heal the problem, to manipulate another living being at the genetic level. He eagerly complies. While they have been able to remove the chip from all the clones passing through the station, without a Jedi, the genetic fix was proving more challenging.

A month later, while Barriss Offee is using her commandeered transport and a crew of troopers and medics to travel a rotating circuit from medical station to medical station healing clones, her name is placed on the Missing in Action list at the Jedi Temple.

-Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to think. He sits in the middle of Senator Amidala’s wrecked living room allowing the med droid to treat his ribs and his throat. Even though he is not looking he can feel the joy, the staggering sense of relief mingled with fear, and the love Anakin is feeling as he holds his wife and greets his children. It is heady and strong. If that wasn’t bad enough, he can feel Anakin twining his Force sense around his family, connecting to the little lights that make up his children, literally bonding with them. Obi-Wan scrubs his face wearily and takes a deep breath. It doesn’t matter if Anakin is attached to his wife, his children, to Ahsoka, the clones, to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan is just as attached to Anakin. He will no longer deny it to himself and not just because of Vader, certainly not! Not because every nerve in his body feels scraped raw by the betrayal, hurt, and anger Vader poured into him when he had hesitated to help his friend. He is admitting his attachment because it is the truth.

He just doesn’t know what to do with this truth. Is he still a Jedi? Can Anakin even be considered a Jedi? Has he failed in the one task his Master had asked of him at the moment of his death? What will the Council do? He looks over his shoulder to the bedroom and shakes himself. Since when is the birth of two babies, the children of his dearest friend and his wife a failure or a cause to mourn? How did being a Jedi come to this? No, he cannot and he will not call himself a failure nor Anakin. They are all still alive and breathing. They have survived this latest battle and together they will survive the next. Somehow they will find a way.

Obi-Wan sees Rex come back into the apartment. He hates (yes, hates) to disturb Anakin at this rare moment of happiness amidst a day of hell, but they have no choice. The battle is not over. He rises and goes to get his former Padawan so they can plan.

-“What’s the next move, sir?” Captain Rex asks Luke as he watches Vader’s cape vanish down the hall leaving Luke to meet with himself, Fives, General Skywalker, and General Kenobi.

“The attack against the Senator is a desperate, reckless move. He will know soon that his attempt at murder and kidnapping failed. Wires and Slice have managed to block news reports on the attack but that will not last for long.”

“Who? Who is behind the attack on my wife?” Anakin demands. Obi-Wan places a hand on Anakin’s arm trying to send calm to his former student, trying to help him regain the equilibrium the day has thoroughly shattered. If there was time, he would drag his former apprentice to meditate or better still take him back to sit with his wife and children in peace. Obi-Wan knows that is impossible so he tries to anchor Anakin as best he can.

“The Sith Master Sidious,” Luke replies to the question and then turns to Rex. “The clone commandos we were able to incapacitate will be treated, their chips removed. We must find a way to treat all the rest of the Coruscant Guard as soon as possible. If they have all been triggered we must hope that there is a way to reverse the same by verbal command that our slicers have not yet found.”

Anakin pulls away from Ob-Wan and moves right into Luke’s personal space. Luke does not back away but meets Anakin’s eyes. “You know who he is.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” Luke says gently and then looks at Obi-Wan. “There will be an attack on the Jedi Temple and it will be without mercy. The men from 501st, 212th, and the 104th should fortify the Temple as best they can from the outside and the Jedi from the inside. It is too late to evacuate though I have asked Commander Cody and Ahsoka to stand ready to provide air and orbital defense in case of bombardment. Captain Rex, I know it is difficult to ask clones to face other clones, but will you lead the defenses on the ground?”

Rex considers the request for a long moment. It makes him sick to think of brothers chipped and out of control being sent to kill Jedi younglings, padawans, and elders, but the thought of facing them in combat makes him think of Umbara and Krell. If Rex was triggered he would want someone to stop him before he killed Jedi or civilians like some battle droid, no matter what. Brothers will do this for other brothers as a mercy. He nods sharply agreeing to the task. Luke says “Stun and incapacitate if you can. We will try and reverse any kill order given.”

Anakin is now barley tracking the conversation. He visibly trembles, but cannot contain himself. “Why won’t you tell me? I can defeat him!”

“Because the attackers will be back and you and Obi-Wan must stay and defend your family. Because Coruscant is not safe, the Temple is not safe and you cannot safely leave the planet either. And because . . . because I do not want to hurt you or see you in pain,” Luke finishes quietly. “Fives, are you sure you want to come?”

“Just try keeping us away. Hardcase, Chatterbox, and I are going. Brothers deserve the chance to be there to meet the monster face to face for all he’s done.”

Luke’s eyes go blank for a moment as he reaches out to his father with the Force and then they come back into focus. “Load up the ship. We will drop Rex off at the Temple on our way. Fives, tell Slice and his team to be ready.” He pulls a commlink from his belt and holds it out to Obi-Wan. “Use only this secured link. Assume all other communications are tapped, even the ones at the Temple.”

“Dooku told the truth, didn’t he?” Obi-Wan manages to rasp around his still healing vocal cords. “The Sith is on Coruscant, in the Senate. Anakin is right, he needs to be there. There is a prophecy.”

“Always in motion, the future,” Luke counters to Obi-Wan who is taken aback to hear Master Yoda’s oft repeated phrase, and then faces Anakin. “This is your place. You are needed here. You must hold the line because when he realizes that he has failed and he cannot grasp you or your family in his claws to twist you all to his purpose, his anger will be terrible. Trust me.”

“And why would you do so much? For me, for my wife, for my troops, for my Padawan? You intend to go in my place, fight my fight. I did not ask this of you. Why are you doing this? Who are you?”

“I am a Jedi, like my father before me and we are here to rescue you, rescue all of you.”

-The Galactic Holonet flickers and then every station, every channel cuts out and is replaced with Senatorial Security Feed. The galaxy watches first puzzled and then with growing shock as the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine draws a red lightsaber and attempts to kill the young Jedi who has asked him to step down on charges of being a Separatist, murderer, kidnapper, torturer, and for committing treason to name just a few charges.

Sentient beings over tens of thousands of worlds call loved ones to come watch; they comm friends and family that they need to turn on their holonet now.

The Supreme Chancellor doesn’t deny the charges. Instead he starts screaming that he will not be denied his rightful place at the head of a new Sith Empire. He screams at the clone troopers to “Execute Order 66 and kill the Jedi, kill all the Jedi everywhere!” and one of the clones refuses and punches the Supreme Chancellor in the face.

-On Coruscant near the Temple district, the ground shakes as Republic cruisers begin open bombardment of the Jedi Temple. In the skies above, Ahsoka Tano, Master Plo, and Commander Cody launch an offensive to cripple and stop the attack by clones triggered through no fault of their own.

-At the Temple, Masters Windu and Fisto of the Council were hesitant at first to believe Captain Rex when he told them to head to the lowest levels of the Temple, but as the first of the towers begins to crumble and fall, they send the younglings and padawans deeper into the Temple and hope that will be enough. Outside the Temple, troopers from the 501st, 212th, and the 104th stand shoulder to shoulder armed with weapons set to stun, with sheilds, and with batons as the home guard of Coruscant advances like a wave from all sides of the Temple plaza.

-In the midst of pitch battle in the Supreme Chancellor’s office, Republic guards face off against clone troopers armed with lightsabers and out of nowhere a dark shape looms and crashes through the transparisteel window and joins the Jedi in his attack against the Supreme Chancellor with a blade as red as blood. Palpatine starts throwing out lightening, lightening! from his fingertips. The dark warrior blocks the attack and the Jedi moves in and disarms Palpatine driving him back to the precipice of the shattered window. The galaxy watches stunned as Palpatine stops screaming long enough to cajole the dark warrior, appeal to him as an ally, asking him to rule the galaxy with him as a true Sith.

The masked man presses his blade forward and spits back “I will never join you!”

“You have failed, Chancellor,” the Jedi declares. “You are unmasked for who and what you really are. Your crimes are visible for the galaxy to see. The war you engineered to con, trick, and kill your way to power has failed. The war is over.”

Palpatine screams his denials and lunges at the Jedi, grappling with him. The dark masked man rushes to help, but Palpatine and Luke trip over the edge of the shattered window and plummet into the darkness below. All over the galaxy, in homes and on ships, in public places, people exclaim and gasp in horror. The dark man yells a name lost to the roaring wind and jumps after them. The clones rush to the edge; one of them says “Chatterbox, the computer, the files. We have to stop the kill order!” and the one in the now tattered gold cloak starts ripping apart the Chancellor’s desk and computer, activating a comm and yelling for “Slice, Gin, and Wires” to get started now.

“Hardcase, you’re with me,” the clone trooper then declares and he and his fellow clone jump.

#sw au #star wars alternate universe #luke skywalker #darth vader #obi-wan kenobi #barriss offee #Captain rex #luke and vader #padme #luke and vader save the galaxy #time travel #father and son save the galaxy #clone wars #clones

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