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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile.

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt. But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly.

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency.

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen.

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee.

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun.

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #reader insert #my writing #speed and stress

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Hi! I absolutely love your levihan stories! The way they care for each other is just gaaahhhhh.

I wanted to make an ask for a while, but I didn't have an idea. I was reading a story and got this random idea suddenly. How about Levi slipping in the bathtub and nearly drowning, but Hange hears the thud of his head hitting the edge or something and has to kick the door down and finds Levi submerged having breathed in water and with a bad gash where his head hit the tub?

Title: Triage

Summary:

"Levi could count with the fingers on his two hands, and maybe some of his toes, the few times he had seen Hange angry—very angry. Those rare times, she was a full blown tornado of screaming, shouting, kicking, rambling.

Albeit terrified, Levi had to note, Hange never raged for shallow reasons. Her terrifying rage, that came once a blue moon, always seemed to have a very good point."

For the first time in many years, Levi witnesses Hange's rage again.

Notes: I took some liberties with the prompt but I hope you still enjoy. Feedback is very much appreciated :D

NN from the last request: maybe he slips in the bath because of his broken leg from when he and mikasa saved Eren from the female titan?

Levi could count with the fingers on his two hands, and maybe some of his toes, the few times he had seen Hange angry—very angry.

It wasn’t something he liked to remember vividly, but it was something he ended up remembering anyway because of how jarring the whole scene of Hange’s rage was. She, who was usually more of like a whirlwind anyway, would suddenly transform into a full blown tornado.

A full blown tornado of screaming, shouting, kicking, rambling.

In whirlwinds and in gusts of screaming, shouting, she clarified logical points, rehashed commands, asked questions. At first her anger was chaos. When the dust cleared though, the haze dissipated, some poor sap always came out of it a learned man.

Her anger, that came once a blue moon, always seemed to have a point.

All completely comprehensible and thus, Levi could easily see reason and consequently be able to summarize the most anger inducing situations to two: One, any utterly stupid move that Hange cannot seem to understand which could cost hundreds, or thousands of lives. Two, utter negligence that could also cost hundreds or thousands of lives.

Notably, Hange would never release the uncontrollable storm for just one person. She had always been fun loving, peace loving. Although her sudden rise to the commander position had mellowed her down just a little, Hange always had a way of building camaraderie with even the lowest from such a high position, while at the same time demanding authority.

Maybe she mastered it, maybe there had been little to no reason to show that side of herself when she was constantly dealing with peace treaties and diplomacy issues.

At times, Levi wondered though, if that part of her had ever left.

It was something he pondered on, grappled with, when days were longer and workloads were kinder. Strangely, one day in late autumn, when the days were longer, when everyone was cramming as much work as they could before the holiday season came, Levi was reflecting on it for a little bit longer.

“Hange, are you okay?” The question forced itself into the conversation uninvited. Levi liked to blame the question for popping its head in like some audacious prick. Really, it had been his own fault at having downed one drink just too quickly that had gotten him at that. Of course, that hyperfixation on Hange, who was starting to look a little pink in the face too, had been at fault as well.

“I just have to go back to the office after this,” Hange slammed the glass in front of her. “Just one drink.” She added. This is the only drink I’ll have tonight.” She added again, after a few seconds.

She had a tendency of turning a little pink with just one cup. Levi wasn’t too nervous about it. Inebriation made him much quicker and much more confident about brushing problems away. “Do you really have to finish looking into those extra papers tonight?”

“Jean will be coming for them first thing in the morning. I don’t wanna keep any more diplomats waiting,” Hange explained. Her tendency to overwork was almost understandable. After all, Paradis was decades behind the rest of the world. With the impending war, Levi could only accept, while affording her a half smile.

They agreed on just half an hour, exchanging half baked ideas over one cup for Hange, two for Levi. Not enough for any of them to end up wobbling towards the exit. Levi hadn’t drunk in years though, having abandoned it after the adults in the survey corps had dwindled to just them. He just didn’t expect that just a sip of his second cup, would have him cross eyed for a moment. Luckily, he easily forgot about it with just a few quick blinks and a quick shake of the head.

“I should be asking you if you’re okay,” Hange said wryly. Her face had an almost pensive touch to it and Levi didn’t want to contribute to any more stress or sadness she might have been harboring then.

So he kept his answer brief, no room for questions. “I’m fine.”

Hange furrowed her brows at him. “Sure…” She started hesitantly. Then, she huffed. “Just make sure to go straight to the barracks… Okay?”

Before Levi could formulate a reply, Hange’s attention was suddenly elsewhere. She turned to her right. Levi followed suit to get a good view, only to be taken aback by the scuffle that had started only a few feet away.

Maybe drunkenness had him blending songs, conversations and scuffles all into one lively sound. The bar fight only stood out like a sore thumb when he focused on the two men, one carried a poor boy by the back of his hands, while another man readied his fists.

Before Levi could process the scene for just a little longer, Hange had come in between them. “Why don’t you keep fights to people your own age? You know this boy can’t beat you.”

“This kid’s parents are in debt,” one explained, his tone aggressive.

“Then send a payment request to his parents.” Hange kept her cool.

But for how long could they maintain the peace? Levi pulled himself up from his seat and wobbled closer to make more sense of the conversations

“We can’t collect…. They’re dead…”

There were many things Levi could stomach. Abuse, unnecessary bullying weren’t among them. Particularly when the child, an orphan at that, was much weaker than they were. He was ready to blink back his own dizziness to get at least one precise kick into the most proper place for a male asshole.

Hange though had been quicker, she had bent down. It turned out she had been dodging a punch. Everything after was a flash of movements Levi couldn't comprehend at his current state.

He stepped just a few feet back, enough to take better stock of the situation. The bar was crowded that night. A bar teeming with burly and most likely ill-intentioned men wasn’t anything new and he had made one mistake in his drunken state. He focused on two men, just among the others, separating those two from the crowds in the background.

Hange was balancing everything at once, keeping the kid safe, while delivering blows when necessary. She was skillful but with two men becoming roughly ten in just a split second, there were only too many ways she could defend herself.

So Levi bit back the alcohol that lingered in his mouth, the light pounding in his head and the way the lights and the quick motions just lingered for a little longer in his vision. He put one foot forward, ready to strike at the man approaching Hange. Defense and offense at such a state, when he was still working to get his flow and his bearings had him careless, receiving a sock to his upper left. He swallowed the bile that rose at his throat, closed his eyes for a second, blinking back the lights that settled in the black.

He managed to pull out before it could have been anything worse. His fighter instincts from the underground started to kick in soon after, ignoring the protests from his left side. They undermined whatever orders his injuries were screaming then.

Maybe that had been a good thing. In the end, humanity’s strongest had taken down ten men in the bar. Hange and the young boy had come out of it completely unscathed. The adrenaline had him breathing hard.

Levi still had his bearings. He turned back to Hange and breathed out. “Pay the tab. We’re getting out of here.”

***

The young boy was quick to introduce himself as they turned the corner of the bar, and made their way far from the store lined streets.

“I’m Joseph,” He started. Soon his words transformed into some over apologetic and grateful babble. Some Levi willed himself to comprehend, others he had been too disconcerted to pick up.

There were words he picked up more than others.

Orphanage. Illness. Mother. Dead. He soon put the puzzle pieces together himself.

Joseph had been staying in an orphanage just a half an hour ride away. His mother suddenly died from illness and before he even transferred to the orphanage, the men had ransacked his house for anything worth more than a penny, to help pay back the debt of his late father.

He just wanted a locket back, a last memento of his mother.

“I’ll coordinate with the other soldiers, see what I can do for you,” Hange said, coiling one hand around the boy’s shoulders.

“The police don’t listen,” he said in between tears.

“I’ll make them listen.”

The boy believed her, maybe he didn’t. Levi saw it appropriate that he himself stayed quiet. If Hange couldn’t convince the young boy, who could? Besides, his upper left side was killing him, his breaths were coming out in some strange rhythm and if he talked, would it make it come out as any worse?

“I’ll take you back to the orphanage first and I’ll see what I can do,” she consoled. “As soon as I get anything, I’ll make sure to send it over.”

“Those men are mean, please don’t hurt yourself.” Surprisingly, the boy seemed mature. Levi though was familiar with that trend, adversity seemed to do that to people.

“I won’t.” They turned another corner and Hange quickened her pace towards the barracks.

Levi followed behind, almost painfully. The quicker strides expected of him made him a little less tolerant of pain. He pressed his hand to his side for just a second. The sky was dark and pressing his side was a flash of movement, nobody should have noticed it except him. But somehow, he was self conscious.

Hange walked ahead though, the rhythm in her stride undisturbed. She hurried towards the stables but only pulled one horse out.

“You don’t need me to come with you?” Levi asked.

Hange shook her head. “It’s a short ride.” She helped the young boy on the horse and plopped herself lightly just right behind him. “I think I’m gonna spend some time in the headquarters tonight, do some research...” She looked pointedly at the kid.

“I’ll wait in the office---”

“No, go to the hospital.”

“Wait.. Why?” Levi spat.

Just a while ago, a few blows connected,” Hange said in a more serious tone. “It might be better if you have them checked out, just for some extra reassurance.” She turned her head toward the direction of the hospital only one block away.

“I think I have a few bruises,” Levi said. “But we’ve gotten much worse on the field.”

Hange gave him a pensive smile. “Just have it checked out, for me? It’s free for soldiers and I don’t think a free cold water compress could hurt.”

“I’ll just make one in your office.” They had a teapot and a kettle and they had some ice as well.

“I’ll pick you up from there on the way back.” There was no room for argument with that tone.

“I’ll wait then,” Levi said. He didn’t say anymore as he turned on his heel. Instead, he focused on the clip clop of the hooves as Hange galloped away. That was a sound that grounded him and when he kept his ragged breaths attune to that rhythm. Levi found that a constant rhythm made it much easier to focus on the road.

Either way, it looked like the walk would last an eternity.

***

For any sane person, it was a short convenient walk. Levi though was in this seemingly eternal trance of just overestimating then underestimating himself. Again and again.

He found ways to ground himself by focusing on the lights that dotted the corridors on the way to the hospital entrance connected to their barracks. He looked at the corridor leading to the commander’s office, almost tempted to turn the heel and treat for himself whatever injuries Hange might have seen in him.

I’ll pick you up from there on the way back. He didn’t have any way to coordinate with Hange then so he trudged straight ahead. The way to meet up with Hange much faster was to just bite his lip and brave the hospital over a few seemingly small injuries.

He had to work harder to contain himself as he saw the crowds from the crack through the half opened door.

Joy. Levi thought to himself. The emergency room was completely full on a weekday night. He settled for one of the benches at the back. The nurses were going around distributing forms and fortunately, he didn’t have to go up to sign anything.

“Some bruising,” Levi answered.

“Understood sir. We’re a bit full tonight so we might have to put you at the bottom of triage.”

Levi only nodded in acceptance, not wanting to waste any more energy or time coming up with something more polite to say. He leaned his back on the bench and stared up at the ceiling. It would be a long wait.

As soon as Hange came anyway, it would be a less tortuous wait, he was sure. She’d find some way to liven up the waiting room with her own chatter. Or maybe, she would see the line, realize it was a dumb idea and have him go back to the barracks and rest.

***

Levi must have dozed off. He jumped on his seat, biting back the white pain that flashed through him at the abrupt movement that pulled him out of stupor.

“Fucking hell, Hange,” Levi hissed.

Hange made herself at home right next to him. She put a hand to his forehead. “You still look a little tipsy.”

“And being tipsy doesn’t merit a trip to the emergency room,” Levi argued.

“It’s not that…” Hange said. “How long… before they call you?” In reply, Levi looked around the room, then back at her. “It depends how pressing the situation is, right? That’s how hospitals work when too many people are injured at once,” he said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Hange stood up, walked ahead to the counter with the nurse. Soon, a doctor approached her and Hange was discussing, gesticulating, and she put a hand to her side.

You’re overreacting. Levi allowed himself a weak smile as he mimicked her actions, pressing his hand to his upper abdomen. He let out a hiss and swallowed once again whatever had climbed up to his throat.

It was as if Hange teleported back to the seat next to him. “I talked to the doctors, explained the situation. They should be coming back here anytime soon.”

Levi didn’t reply. He saw that as a cue for her to leave, focus on whatever was at hand. She was twiddling her thumbs, she started to play with the wood splinters that stuck out of the bench.

And Levi was constantly reminded by her own restlessness, she had things to do, she couldn’t waste her time there when she had documents to prepare, diplomats to please and some locket she promised a young boy.

His insides were on fire, his breaths were coming out uncontrollably but he saw enough reason to muster a firm order. As her friend. He reminded himself. “Go back to the office. I’ll meet you there.”

Hange was surprisingly easy to convince. All he needed to do was get through the quick back and forth that followed.

“I’ll pick you up a bit later?”

“No, just go up. Go back to work.”

“What about---”

“I’ll meet you in your office.”

Soon, Hange had made a quick trip to the counter, had a quick exchange with the nurses.

“I’ll meet you at the office,” Levi said again for emphasis. That second time was notably harder to let out though.

“I told the nurses to alert me if anything happens.”

Overreacter. “I’ll meet you in the office,” Levi said once again.

Hange walked away with nothing more than a nod. At the least, that was one source of pressure out of the way.

***

The wait didn’t last much longer after that. He was led to a room, no time for pleasantries.

There were many others waiting. Soon after that brief check up, there would be someone else waiting. Maybe they were outside the room already.

The doctor asked him to undress and Levi focused on whatever glimpse of his chest he could get then as he removed his shirt. His chest was still a raw red, maybe there were beginnings of bruises among them. Levi couldn't even bring himself to look down for fear of sending another rush of nausea through him.

“Are you feeling nauseous? Any dizziness?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Commander said, you got involved in a fist fight…”

“At a bar…”

“And you drank?”

“Just two cups.”

The doctor sighed, handing him back his shirt. “I’ll have the nurse prepare an ice pack for whatever bruises you sustained. You should be clear to leave.” The doctor scribbled something on his notebook.

A few minutes later, Levi had a cold compress and a prescription for rest and painkillers. Fortunately, he had the freedom to not be in the hospital so he headed for Hange’s office, gripping the ice pack just a little harder. It did some work to manage his overall soreness and the throbbing pain in his upper right. Levi bit his lip.

It took him thirty minutes to reach the office. He had expected it to take five minutes. Levi though had taken some breaks in between, leaning back on the wall, taking in breaths much stronger than usual.

He opened the office door with a creak and it looked like Hange hadn’t been too engrossed with whatever she was reading like she usually was. Strangely, she looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You’re here…” She said.

“You don't want me to be here?” Levi asked. He used that blessing of the moment to lean on the door to subtly catch his breath once again.

“No it’s just that… Did the doctor say anything?” Hange stood up from her desk, and quickly gathered the papers in front of her.

“Bed rest and to ice the bruises.”

Hange moved quickly. Levi didn’t even notice her come closer until she had tapped her hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna work in the bedroom.”

“Wait, not in the office? You can’t concentrate in the bedroom right?”

“I think you should rest there for the night, and I think I’ll be better able to concentrate, knowing you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re resting in the bedroom, that’s an order,” Hange said firmly.

She was playing the commander card again. By the looks of it, she would be hard to sway. She had gathered all her paperwork, slipping the thick wads of paper just under her arm. She had turned off the lights and when Hange walked a few inches ahead with that much confidence while gripping his wrist tightly, he saw no choice but to follow.

***

There was a nice bathtub in the commander’s room and Levi insisted he get enough time to himself to clean up the muck, the alcohol and the sweat that came with the fist fight. Hange had insisted he didn’t lock the door but a need for privacy had him a little naughty and a little assertive.

He pressed on the lock on the door slowly, enough to spit the sound of the click into three careful movements.

For the first time in a while, he was grateful for Hange’s pile of work. She didn’t seem to notice.

Stripping off his clothes was a methodical task and Levi realized, if he focused on the slipping movements more than the actual searing pain that followed, he could get anything done. Maybe even cover the few feet that separated the door from the bathtub.

He started off by biting his lip and bending over just far enough to be able to fiddle comfortably with the faucets. He couldn’t bring himself low enough to reach for the plug but even before that, he had made sure to twist both faucets to full blast so he wouldn’t have to deal with the bath emptying too quickly,

The soap was on the other side of the tub and Levi decided to put off grabbing it until he was submerged on the tub. He had spent just a little too much time staring at the soap bar and maybe the gears in his head were turning a little too fast, coming up with the best way to stretch out and reach for it.

There were more pressing matters at hand like the nausea, the pain at his side, the pounding in his head and his utter inability to focus. When he was dealing with those all at once, it was only natural he would run out of mind space.

The slippery part had been something he failed to consider. The last thing he remembered was stepping onto the tub, his eyes fixed on the soap in front of him. And before he could even consider anything else, his foot lost grip on the slimy bathtub.

Then his feet weren’t connected anywhere and he was free falling.

Everything blurred around him as something pulled him forward, into the water. He instinctively put his hands in front of him, once again neglecting the rim of the tub for one fatal second.

One fatal second that ended with a burst of white hot pain.

Pain had been kind for a while after that, settling as something dull at the back of his mind. It had done wonders as well to consume whatever throbbing sensation was eating at his abdomen then. He soon realized, if he closed his eyes, the pain only settled deeper into him, as something almost comforting.

And he realized there were warmer things, there were kinder things surrounding him, like the water that tickled at his sides.

Hey are you okay? There were knocks on doors.

“I’m fine.” He would have liked to muster. The water though that started with a tickle, continued to climb, up to his ears, then up to his mouth.

Her voice deadened to something faint. Faint shouts? Slams of doors. Faint, but annoying loud.

The water had done its part to blanket him, protecting him from the most annoying sounds.

Then when it deadened into nothing. Levi couldn’t help but be just a little relieved.

***

On most days, Hange was a whirlwind. On other special days, Hange was a cyclone.

Recently though, she had mellowed down into something less assertive, tamer, more predictable than a whirlwind.

Maybe a windy day? Levi would surmise when he thought comparing Hange to weather would be a good way to pass the time.

That had become a strange habit he would indulge occasionally. Something quick. Something subtle. Something he didn’t think too much of until he had enough time to be a little more observant of the weather patterns around him.

It was only when he woke up with bleary eyes, still too groggy to even do much but turn to his side, to the narrow white door, did he realize for himself. It was only when despite all that, Levi was attempting to listen intently to whatever scuffle was on the other side of the door, did he realize, god he missed that Hange.

He made out her voice, much wilder than before, her tone more dynamic and Levi was perking his ears up, attempting to break off from that sleepiness to pick up what he can.

He hadn’t heard that Hange in years. It could have been a dream for all he knew.

“The medical technique from Azumabito…. Saved his life….”

“You wouldn’t have had to rely on it if you caught it early on!”

“It was a busy night commander. He seemed fine at first---”

“Believe me… I understand but… Any other day… I gave you my own speculation doctor.” Hange’s voice had mellowed just a little bit. She had clipped the assertion with a title at least. Still, Levi couldn’t help but note that the tone sounded more like a ‘Hange’ than a ‘Commander’

“Yes--”

“No, listen to me… I may not be a doctor but I think the best course of action there was to have felt for any tenderness on his side right? Did you do that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then why did you say you did it a while ago? Believe me, if you did, if you caught this early on, I’m sure he wouldn't be in as bad of a state as he is now.”

“Still, we’re grateful we were able to---”

“Catch it on time? He. Could. Have. Died.” There were slams of feet, slams on the wall, accenting every syllable and Hange said every word like it was bitter to her lips. “I’m honestly fucking grateful he slipped on the bathtub. At least, it brought him back here and you had to give him a full body examination. I don’t think you would have done it any other way!”

“Commander, please calm down.” The voice very much sounded like Moblit. A nostalgic but also very wistful thought. Of course it wouldn’t be Moblit. Moblit was long gone.

When Levi listened for a little longer, he picked it out in the midst of Hange’s tirade. “Jean?” Even saying a one syllable name turned out to be an ordeal. He painstakingly turned his head back and stared at the ceiling, blinking a few more times, an attempt to focus.

Focus came quickly a second later, with crashes and slams of wood on wood right after the other. Enough to have Levi shift the weight to his elbows, sit up for a second long enough to realize he couldn’t stay up for longer than that.

“Commander…”

“Jean… Carelessness...negligence….” Hange’s voice was softer than a while ago. Still, it was sharp, words were emphasized. Words he had managed to pick out, just by listening closely.

The door to his room opened and Hange entered. Surprisingly, it didn’t close with a bang. Whatever remnants of anger was still very much apparent on her face.

Hey four eyes. By god, he wanted to call her four eyes. She seemed more like a ‘four eyes.’ The anger, the aftermath had left Hange looking more like the Hange back then. So Levi stared a little longer, willing himself to find that balance between widening his eyes and squinting, just to get the clearest possible picture of her.

Hange’s eyes widened as he caught her gaze but she didn’t look too happy to see him. “You should go to sleep,”

How long was I out? “How long…” He managed to say.

“You had surgery just a few hours ago. You slipped on the bath tub and the door was fucking locked. I had to break it down. And god, Levi, you almost drowned....”

To his shock, he realized he didn’t even remember much of what followed the slams on the door.

Hange continued on, her voice echoing against the four walls. “Hell, you’re not even supposed to be awake.” A bout of realization in her eyes. She put one hand on her mouth. “Was I loud? Did I wake you up?” Hange’s question was laughable and if Levi had any more energy in him, maybe he would have let out a light chuckle.

He spared a subtle smile instead.

“I was huh?” Hange said. “Sorry about that.”

Suddenly, Levi had the motivation to shake his head and spare three words despite the pounding in his head. “I missed that.”

“MIssed what?” Hange asked.

By that point, Levi didn’t have much energy to reply. Instead he let his eyes dart from left to right, trying to take in as much as he can of her at once. He trusted Hange to be perceptive of that at least.

If she did notice it.

“You’re gonna have to take more time to explain that,” Hange admitted. She dropped one light hand on his forehead. “But not now, I’d rather you took this time to rest first.” She mellowed again and Levi had to painfully note that the voice had shifted to something more serious once again.

The faint recall of the old Hange justa moment ago, behind closed doors was all he had.

Don’t be ashamed. Be yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself. There were too many things Levi would have wanted to say at that moment. The words dried up, crumbling into sawdust even before he could completely open his mouth to say it.

He closed his mouth again, ready to restart the painful process of attempting to speak. Someone knocked and the door opened again way before he even started to feel some strength.

“Commander. The military police came to pick up the documents. I kept them posted on the situation. They’ll look into it now, process the paperwork…” Jean’s eyes were on Hange as he spoke. They soon fell to Levi. “Captain, you’re awake.”

“He’ll be going back to sleep soon,” Hange said, as if it were an indirect order. It wasn’t too hard to follow. Sleep was like a phantom looming over him. He just had to let it do its work.

There were still things he hadn’t completely comprehended and curiosity was good at keeping his surroundings lucid. He reached for Hange’s hand, in one swift motion enough to even leave his hand dizzy.

Hange turned back to him. “Levi, rest.”

He didn’t have to speak. All he had to do was blink, nod his head and Hange pulled the chair to his bedside.

“If I humor you now, will you make sure to rest?”

His energy was limited but if he pickled the right words, the right syllables he could get the answers he needed.

How bad?

Hange was his closest friend for a reason. She knew it at first glance. “I rushed you to the hospital as soon as you fell unconscious.” She put a hand to her head. “You had a concussion… But you know, it wasn't the concussion that was life threatening. Your spleen… it completely ruptured. They had to take it out. You’re gonna be out of it for a while…”

If the survey corps did anymore combat, maybe Levi would have been more worried. Recently, work usually consisted of paperwork anyway.

How long?

“You’ll be here for a few weeks maybe. Then more rest when you get discharged. You’re in really bad shape…” Levi looked behind Hange to see Jean standing awkwardly. There were only too many coherent ways to ask about the kid. He moved his hand up to his chest and drew a shape.

The locket?

“We got the issue with Joseph under control,” Hange said.

Jean stepped forward, moving closer towards the bed. “Commander Hange managed to find some records on them. Joseph’s father used to work with the Reeves company. He got involved in the underground, got blackmailed into dishing a lot of his pay for their silence. With the right investigation, we might be able to turn the tables around, get them to confess and maybe return the money or even more to their son but it’s gonna take a lot of meetings, negotiations---”

As if they had heard the word, some almost recognizable recruit entered. “Commander Zoe, the military police want to clarify a few more things about the papers submitted.”

“Give me a minute.”

“They’re waiting outside, commander.”

Hange sighed. “I’ll meet them now.” She turned back to Jean. “Watch over Levi first.”

Within an hour, Hange had shifted from the angry Hange to the mellow Hange then to the serious commander Hange. Levi watched her go for a few seconds longer, noting the strides that exuded the confidence and professionalism that came with her position.

Jean took up the empty chair Hange left and Levi was slightly ticked that she could have been replaced so fast. Somehow, his head was still keeping the screaming Hange on the other side of the door on replay.

“How are you feeling captain?”

Shitty.

“Commander Hange said you should be resting.”

Levi managed a light nod.

“Please rest,” Jean said.

Levi started to notice it then with him much nearer. His shoulders were tensed up, his hands on his lap and his voice, his smile both more stiff than usual. He furrowed his brows as if to say “are you okay?”

Jean was definitely rattled. “I don’t think I’d wanna see our commander like that again...” He admitted, a weak smile on his face but Jean’s eyes showed fear more than anything else.

No shit. Levi was very familiar with that Hange, having had his own fateful encounters with her over the years.

“Before you woke up… She got mad… Very mad… ”

Oh? Levi mouthed.

Jean was starting to flail his hands a little more. “God she was like a tornado. She was kicking benches. She was slamming walls…”

First time?

“But I don’t blame her… It was really negligence on their part. Apparently Hange had told them a while back to give you a thorough check…” He gave Levi a onceover. “Turns out she was right.”

Levi put one hand to his side, noting the tight bandaging and padding, Even a light tap was enough to send painful sparks through him. He stifled a wince.

“Be careful.” Jean clutched his hand, guiding it back down to the bed. “She might just get angry again if you disobey her.”

She wouldn’t. Hange didn’t get angry like that anymore. He couldn’t help but think though, he would have liked that. Levi didn’t let that thought out as anything more than a surreptitious smile. He looked back up at the ceiling and allowed himself a ragged exhale.

“She won’t,” Levi managed to say. “She mellowed down already.” The last few syllables came out more like a raspy cough.

“Captain, don’t hurt yourself.”

When Levi bit at his lip, cleared his throat, he realized he could muster a few more words. He gave Jean an indignant look.

Jean sighed, dropping his shoulders in defeat. “Something tells me you’ve seen her like this before. You know her best... What makes her angry? You know, so we can avoid it in the future.”

Negligence. Competence. When hundreds of lives were on the line.

Levi could have answered Jean’s question clearly or maybe it came out as mumbles. When everything was starting to blur against each other, it didn’t make it worth clarifying how much left his lips.

“When hundreds of lives are on the line?” Jean asked.

Usually.

With Jean’s question hovering above them in silence for a second longer, he started to doubt himself. There was negligence, incompetence involved but hundreds of lives on the line? He was just one life.

Maybe he had been a little too hasty in concluding what went on on the other side of the door. Those last few moments before he let exhaustion take over, Levi became aware of the taste of sawdust on his lips, the smell of alcohol and his own utter sleepiness.

“I’ll have the nurses come in to refill your pain medication. For now, you should rest.”

Right. He was on medications. So his mind started to shake with questions. Ones he would have liked to answer before he gave in to the trappings of sleep.

How much of what went on behind the doors was real? Did Hange really kick, slam furniture? Did she scream like a mad man? Was she a full blown cyclone?

He would never know. Besides, there was a door between them. All he had was sounds, his own facilities marred by whatever medication they were pumping him with and his own memory to make conclusions for himself.

He fell back to bed with one conclusion, one he had built for himself over the years and came back to him as one musing before he fell back to sleep.

When Hange was angry, very angry, she was a full blown tornado of screaming, shouting, kicking, rambling. She was a full blown tornado that had the rare quality of just making sense.

Her anger, that came once a blue moon, always seemed to have a point.

At first, Levi had managed to summarize the most anger inducing situations to two: One, any utterly stupid move that Hange cannot seem to understand which could cost hundreds, or thousands of lives. Two, utter negligence that could cost hundreds or thousands of lives.

Maybe there was a third anger inducing situation that only bared its fangs then, powerful enough to release itself even outside the commander facade. And maybe it didn’t have to be a hundred lives on the line for that monster to show itself.

Half asleep, his memories a blur and with the white door between them, he couldn’t be too sure if that had really been the cyclone he had witnessed a few times before. So he left it as speculation, something to indulge.

He focused instead on sleeping, on the rustle of pages and the wind that streamed through the window.

Reminiscing on the old Hange could wait. He still had lots of recovering to do.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Plant Your Hope With Good Seeds

Dukeceit Week Day 3: Snakes/Bugs

Remus and Janus break up. But literally everyone knows that's not what they want. Everyone, including their plants.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 4337

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

Unknown Number

hey so i kno i said i wouldnt text u but rupert isnt doin good. can i bring him back? he misses u

Janus stared at the text for several minutes. Rupert was, of course, the Monstera Variegata that he and Remus had raised together all the way from propagation. It had been one of the pride and joys of their plant collection. Losing Rupert in the split had hurt almost as much as losing Remus.

...Almost.

Janus

Is it getting enough light? Remember it needed the grow light even next to the window.

Janus texted back against his better judgement. He and Remus were broken up. They’d agreed not to text for a while. They’d agreed to give each other space, get used to being apart.

It sucked, though. The apartment felt empty without Remus and half their plant collection.

Unknown Number

ya i kno. but i don’t have any south facign windows here. our place is better

Unknown Number

i mean ur place

Janus sighed morosely. Well, if it was for Rupert…

Janus

Fine. Rupert can come back.

Unknown Number

yay! ill be in town this weekend. ill bring him ok?

Janus

Ok.

And then Janus promptly threw his phone across the room.

Because here’s the thing. Janus and Remus were broken up. Remus had moved eight hours away and everything. He’d been accepted into the Nuclear Engineering graduate program a state away, and they had both heard too many horror stories about long-distance relationships to brother trying. So they’d had a very civil and mutual split. Janus kept the apartment. Remus took the TV. And they’d divided their plant family between them: they each kept their favorites, and Remus had taken the hardier plants, while Janus kept the ones that were likely not to survive an interstate move.

And then… Remus left.

And Janus had not immediately wanted him back. Not at all.

(And, of course, Janus was lying to himself.)

Remus texted him Saturday morning that he was on his way, and Janus spent the first few hours of the wait stress-cleaning. He then checked on every single plant in the apartment. Watered the ones that needed it. Rotated some of the more vivacious growers so that they wouldn’t lean full-body toward their light source. Moved his small army of Sansevierias out to the apartment balcony for some extra sun.

Then, when all that still failed to fill up the entire eight hours of waiting, he started stress-cooking. So by the time Remus texted that he’d just gotten off the highway, Janus had himself a pot of minestrone soup simmering on the stove, a tray of made-from-scratch lasagna in the oven, and was mixing up a batch of double chocolate chip cookies.

There was no way he was going to eat all this food himself, he realized. He was so used to booking big meals like this, because Remus ate like he was three people. And lasagna was his favorite.

“Oh, Jake, what am I doing?” he groaned to the N’Joy Pothos that cascaded down the side of the refrigerator. And then his doorbell rang.

Janus opened the door to find Remus, dancing awkwardly from foot to foot, with his face half-hidden behind the green-and-white leaves of Rupert.

“...Hey,” Remus said, sounding sheepish. Janus’ heart clenched.

“Hi,” he said. They stood there in the doorway for a full minute before Janus stepped back and motioned for Remus to follow. Remus hesitated, but obeyed.

“Uh… I’ll just…” Remus looked around. Janus hated how uncomfortable he looked. Until about two weeks ago, this had been Remus’ apartment, too. “Can I put him in his old spot?”

“Sure,” Janus replied with a nod. Rupert’s old spot had been in the bedroom, where the big, beautiful south-facing window let in a ton of light. He’d moved Venus de Milos, his Marble Queen Pothos, and La Hoya Jackson, the finicky Hoya Carnosa that Remus had wanted but didn’t expect to make the 8-hour drive without going into shock, to free up Rupert’s spot. Remus hesitated again, before he nodded awkwardly and wandered off to the bedroom, all three feet of plant and two gallons of soil in tow. Janus went to the oven and took out the lasagna.

“Howl looks good,” Remus said when he came back into the kitchen. Janus glanced up from where he was laying balls of cookie dough out onto baking sheets.

“Thank you,” he replied. Howl was their dramatic fiddle leaf fig tree, which had decided to throw a fit just before Remus left. “I switched it to a terracotta pot with peat moss and pearlite, and doubled its water intake. It seems to be tolerating it well.”

“Good.” There was a long pause. Then,” How are you?”

Janus looked back to the cookies. “I’m doing well,” he lied. “And you? Do you start class soon?”

“Next week,” Remus answered. “And, uh. Yeah, I’m doin’ good.” Another long pause. “Uh… I’ll just. Head out, I guess.”

“You could stay,” Janus blurted out. Shit. “For dinner, I mean.” He gestured to the tray of lasagna, fresh from the oven. “If you want.”

Remus gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile, then nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, though, so Janus just gestured for him to take a seat at the table. And then he joined him, a plate of lasagna for each of them.

“So tell me, how’s living with Roman again?” Janus asked, a few bites into the meal, because he could not take the awkward silence a moment longer.

“It’s ok,” Remus answered. He shoveled another forkful of lasagna into his mouth. “This is really good, Jan.”

Janus smiled softly. “Thank you.” A pause. “Roman doesn’t mind all the plants?”

“Nah, he’s dating this guy Patton who apparently loves plants, so the apartment being full of houseplants is a huge plus to him now.”

“Good for him.” The oven timer went off, startling him slightly. He started to get up, but Remus waved him off.

“I got ‘em, you did all the cooking.”

Janus didn’t protest. Remus got up and took the cookies out of the oven. And he even moved them to a cooling rack like Janus had taught him to do. He came back to the table.

“How’s work?”

Janus sighed. “Oh, terrible as always,” he answered. “I really must start looking for a new job.”

“Finally getting fed up?” Remus teased. Janus rolled his eyes. More seriously, Remus continued, “You deserve better, Jan. You gotta find some place that treats you right and pays you what you’re worth.”

“Thank you, Remus.”

“And hey, just sayin’, I still think you’d make an excellent stripper.”

Janus snorted at that. “I haven’t fully ruled out that particular career change.”

They fell easily back into their usual banter, lingering late into the night over a dessert of milk and cookies. It was pushing 10pm when Remus glanced at his phone and cursed softly. Janus glanced at his phone as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said. Remus shrugged.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks for dinner, Jan. It was real good, as always.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Uh… well, the plan was to stay with Logan, but I guess he had some kind of family emergency, so I don’t wanna trouble him. I’ll probably see if I can find a hotel room.”

Janus’ brow furrowed at that. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t wanna trouble you. I kinda feel like I already overstayed my welcome a bit?”

“Nonsense. A hotel room will cost you at least $100 for the night, and that’s simply ridiculous,” Janus insisted. “You should just stay here.”

Remus worried at his lip, which Janus knew meant he was mulling over his options. Then, he nodded. “If it’s not a bother?”

“Of course not. You’re not a bother, Remus.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and he smiled. “Ok. Thank you. Oh… lemmie go get my overnight back outta my truck.”

When Remus came back inside, Janus had just about finished making up the couch.

“Hey, you don’t gotta get all fancy,” Remus teased. “You know I can sleep basically anywhere.”

“This is for me,” Janus replied. He fluffed up one of the pillows a bit more. “You take the bed.”

An odd look flashed across Remus’ face. “No way, Jan. I’m good on the couch.”

“Remus, you just drove eight hours, and you’re doing it again tomorrow. I am not letting you fuck up your back.”

‘I don’t-”

“Yes you do, no matter how often you say you can sleep anywhere,” Janus scoffed. “You can’t lie to me.”

Remus’ eyes softened, and after a moment, he sighed. “Ok, Jan. But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You hate sleeping on couches.”

“It’s only one night-”

“And don’t you work tomorrow?”

“Yes, but-”

“You’re going to be so grumpy at work without a proper night’s sleep.”

“I’m usually grumpy at work anyway,” Janus pointed out. Remus snorted.

“Ok, that’s true. But I don’t want you to be even grumpier,” he said. “Let’s just share the bed.”

Janus eyed him for a moment. This was a terrible idea. They should not do this.

“Ok,” Janus said anyway.

They got ready for bed in awkward silence, which just made Janus miss Remus’ long, rambling chatter that much more. When Janus finished in the bathroom, he found Remus sitting gingerly on what used to be his side of the bed. Janus came over and sat down on the other side.

“Hey, uh… thanks,” Remus said. “For lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” Janus answered. “I… I still think of you as a friend, Remus.”

At that. Remus grimaced slightly. He didn’t say anything, seeming unable to find the right words. Before he could, Janus pulled back the top blankets on the bed and laid down. After a moment, Remus did the same.

“Good night, Remus,” Janus said quietly.

“...Good night, Janus,” Remus answered. Then he reached over and shut off the light.

Remus played that night over and over in his head in the days after he got home, and each and every time, he was just as stumped.

He knew, in his brain, why he and Janus had broken up. It had been the only thing that made sense at the time, when the facts were just that Remus was moving away to pursue a lifelong dream, and Janus would never ever try to stop him from doing so. So they broke up. It made sense… right?

But… That morning, he’d woken up to Janus curled up in his arms, face smushed against Remus’ neck, and… Remus had completely forgotten why they had even broken up in the first place.

Remus was back at Roman’s apartment, now. Eight hours away in his own cold bed, arms empty of the man he loved, just staring at the ceiling. A sharp knock on his door snapped him out of his daze.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Roman called. “Don’t you have class in like an hour?”

“Fuck!” Remus scrambled to get up, but succeeded only in rolling out of the bed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave,” Roman added. Clearly he was unconcerned by the loud “thump” of a body hitting the floor.

“Yup, got it,” Remus groaned in reply. He staggered, successfully this time, to his feet.

Getting dressed was a rushed affair of ‘grab whatever’s closest,’ and soon he emerged from the bedroom with one shoe on, the other in his hand, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He rushed into the kitchen to grab the travel mug of coffee Janus always set out for him in the mornings. And then the realization hit: Janus didn’t live here.

Remus dropped his shoe.

The rest of the day went about as well as it could have gone without any coffee- that is to say, terribly. He got lost trying to get to campus, then he got lost again trying to get to class. Then he got stuck in traffic on the way back to Roman’s apartment. And then, to top it all off, the grocery store had been out of his favorite chips.

So here he was, mopey and chip-less, and fucking exhausted. He dumped his backpack and collapsed face-first onto the couch. Roman, who happened to be sitting on said couch, made a noise of protest.

“Move, I need to sulk,” Remus mumbled, though his voice was thoroughly muffled by Roman’s thigh, since that was where his face had landed.

“What on earth do you need to sulk for?” Roman asked incredulously. He moved to shove Remus off of him, but Remus went full ragdoll, and Roman couldn’t do a damn thing. “You are a grown man, you know.”

Remus turned his head just enough to stick his tongue out at Roman. Roman stuck his tongue out back.

“I had a terrible day, I earned a good sulk.”

“Didn’t like your classes?”

“Nah, they were great.”

“Professors?”

“Great.”

“Classmates?”

“Great.”

“Then Zeus Almighty, what are you so mopey-dopey about?” Roman remanded.

Remus squirmed around so he was laying on his back, head still in Roman’s lap, to look up at his brother. “So… uh… you promise not to get all, like. I told you so and shit?”

“You miss Janus!”

“No! I-”

“You do!” Roman crowed triumphantly. Remus rolled onto his side so he didn’t have to look at his brother’s dumb gloaty face.

“...Maybe,” he groaned. Abruptly, he clamored to his feet and started for the stairs. “I gotta go build a chair.”

“Carpentry won’t solve your relationship problems,” Roman called after him.

“I know,” Remus called back. “Wrong type of wood.” If Roman had a response to that, Remus was already out the door and didn’t have to hear it.

Patton found him out in front of the apartment building some time later, a jigsaw in hand, and a pile of cut wooden dowels at his feet.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you up to?”

Remus looked up from where he was balancing a plank of wood precariously across a milk crate, because his work table was one of the things he’d had to leave behind at Janus’ place.

“Oh, hey. Ro-bro’s upstairs.”

Patton gave him the sort of smile teachers gave to the kid they caught eating glue for the fourth time. “That doesn’t look super safe. Do you want any help?”

Remus took in Patton’s soft blue sweater and the dad-jeans from the nicer end of his closet, as well as the reusable grocery store bag that smelled suspiciously like some kind of lovely home-cooked meal; he shook his head. “You look dressed for a date night,” he said. “I don’t wanna fuck up two relationships this week.”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, got even bigger and softer than they normally were, which honestly was quite the feat. He walked over to the stairs but, instead of making his way up to Roman’s apartment, he plopped down on the third step, facing Remus. Remus stared, bewildered.

“Uh, what’chu doin’ there, pops?”

“Well, it just sounded like you needed to talk,” Patton replied cheerfully. “So here I am.”

Remus stared a moment longer, somehow even more bewildered than before. “Uh…”

“I know I haven’t known you very long,” Patton continued. “But something tells me you’re the type of person who busts out the power tools when you’re upset.”

“How the hell can you tell that?”

Patton glanced over his shoulder, then leaned forward slightly. “Because,” he said, voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m like that too.”

Remus blinked. “You?”

“Yup! I replaced all the tables and chairs in my house with ones I made myself after my last breakup,” Patton giggled. “Only two of them collapsed when I sat in them, too!”

Remus glanced down at the jigsaw in his hands, and then he sighed. He set it down, and went to sit next to Patton on the steps.

“Ok, well. Yeah, maybe I’m kinda upset.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah? No? Maybe?”

“Yup, those are your three options!” Patton teased. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine. You win, daddy-o. I’m upset because I miss my boyfriend. Or, well, my ex-boyfriend. I want him to be my boyfriend again.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Of course not,” Remus whined.

“Why not?”

“Because… I mean. It wouldn’t change anything. I still moved away. And I don’t even know if he’d want to be my boyfriend again either. Maybe he’s happier now.”

“You don’t know that,” Patton said gently. “Sure, maybe the circumstances aren’t the best right now, but if you both want it, things have a funny way of working out. But you have to talk to him.”

“I…” Remus paused. And then he sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. Hey thanks, that did actually sorta help.”

Patton offered him a gentle smile. “Of course, Remus! Any time!”

“Hey!”

They both turned to see Roman standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed.

“My own brother, hogging my boyfriend like this! The betrayal-”

“Relax, Ro, he’s not my type,” Remus shot back. “I prefer sarcastic little menaces.”

Patton giggled at that. He stood up and patted Remus on the shoulder. “I hope things work out,” he said. Remus smiled back.

“Yeah, I hope so too.”

Really, he just wanted Janus to be happy. Ideally with him, but if Janus was happier without him, well… so be it.

- - -

Janus was miserable.

“Dude, c’mon,” Virgil grumbled, immediately upon seeing the state of the apartment. “You’ve been watering your plants and filling the humidifiers, but you can’t be bothered to throw out your gross pizza boxes?” A pause. “Wait, you don’t even like pizza, what the hell.”

Janus just shrugged. After letting Virgil and Logan into the apartment, he’d gone straight back into blanket-burrito-on-the-couch mode. And really, he’d only bothered to get up and let them inside in the first place because Virgil had threatened to axe down the door- and Janus knew for a fact that Virgil owned multiple axes.

“I believe he is engaging in what is described as ‘emotional eating,’ or using food as a coping mechanism in a time of stress and emotional turmoil,” Logan said helpfully. Virgil just huffed.

“That’s fine and all, but Jesus Christ, dude.” He gestured around the livingroom where… ok, yeah, it was a mess.

“Did you two come here just to insult me?” Janus grumbled. His face was half-mashed into a pillow, though, so who knows how much of that was actually discernible.

“We came to make sure you were still alive,” Virgil snapped, indicating that at least most of what Janus had said was discernible. “You weren’t answering any texts.”

“Yes, and you called out of work three days in a row,” Logan added. “We are concerned for you, Janus.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Janus lied from the comfort of his depression blanket burrito. He was not particularly surprised when neither Virgil or Logan looked even remotely convinced.

“Alright, drastic measure time,” Virgil growled. He walked over to the window, and picked up the young Burgundy Rubber Tree Janus had yet to name. Janus sat bolt upright.

“Virgil? Don’t you dare-”

Virgil walked past him and vanished down the hall. When he came back, his hands were empty, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Oh, fuck you,” Janus hissed. He dragged himself up off the couch to go rescue the poor thing, finding it stashed in the dark, windowless bathroom. When he came back to the livingroom, Virgil and Logan were sprawled across the couch.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Janus set the rubber tree back on the windowsill alongside the Snake Plant Army. “Ok, I’m up. Are you heathens happy now?”

“I take offense to that,” Logan muttered, while Virgil just crossed his arms and said, curtly, “Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not upset-”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted. “I have known you since high school, Janus, and I have never seen you like this before. It is highly alarming.”

“Is this about Remus?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Janus said immediately. “Of course not.”

Virgil and Logan exchanged a Look. Janus groaned.

“Fuck. Ok, fine. Maybe it is.”

“Was that so hard?” Virgil asked.

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Janus,” Logan interrupted Virgil’s retort. “It is my understanding that emotional distress is often alleviated through, as they say, ‘talking it out.’ It is clear you are not handling the break-up as well as you initially believed-”

“Of course I’m not!” Janus snapped. He took a deep breath, and turned back to the plants on his windowsill. Kaa, the Sansevieria Moonshine Remus had gotten for Janus as an anniversary present last year, was already leaning slightly toward the window again. He rotated it, and a few of the other snake plants on the sill. And then he realized the others had been quiet for far too long. He turned to find them both watching him with sympathetic expressions. “What?”

“Keep going,” Virgil prompted. Janus sighed. He felt exhausted.

“Of course I’m not,” he said again. “Because I love Remus.”

“And?” Virgil prompted.

“...And I didn’t want us to break up,” he finished, feeling glum. Wordlessly, Virgil stood up, and approached Janus, arms out. Janus stepped into the embrace. Nobody said anything; Janus didn’t cry, but he stood there for a long time. Then, he stepped back.

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Virgil gave him a small smile. Logan cocked his head, seeming confused.

“I don’t understand. You just… needed a hug?”

“Hugs are great, Logan,” Virgil replied. “You should try them sometime- hey, where are you going?”

Janus strode past them both, beelining for his bedroom to find his laptop. Over his shoulder, he answered, “To fill out some job applications.”

- - -

Remus was outside building a new bookshelf- because Patton was moving in, and Roman's teenie-tiny sad little excuse for a bookshelf, which held only Disney DVDs and no actual books, wouldn’t suffice for all of Patton’s cookbooks- when his phone rang. Which was weird, because nobody ever called him, because he never fucking answered.

“Not interested, Mr. Spam Man,” he crooned over the sound of the generic iPhone ringtone. He was learning how to do kerf bending for this bookcase, and goddamn it he wasn’t going to be distracted by-

His phone started ringing again. He swore and ripped off his gloves to silence his phone. But as he did so, he realized the number flashing across his screen was a familiar one.

“Janus? Are you ok?” he answered the call, half panicked, because Janus hated phone calls almost as much as he did.

“Hi. Yes, everything’s fine.” Janus sounded slightly hysterical, which made Remus feel even more frantic. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Roman’s. Are you sure you’re ok-”

“Great, don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

“What does that mean-” Remus demanded, but the line was already dead. Remus swore again. He briefly considered calling him back, because what the actual fuck was that all about, but he was only about 30 seconds into that brief consideration before a familiar car tearing through the apartment complex parking lot caught his attention. He quickly brushed as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could because holy shit Janus had just parked right there in front of Roman’s apartment.

Remus watched, dumbfounded, as Janus scrambled out of his car- dressed in his very nice black suit and pale yellow button-up- and came running across the lawn toward where Remus was working. He had a tiny plant clutched to his chest.

“Uh, Jan, you good?” Remus asked. Janus stopped in front of him and doubled over, breathless, for a few moments. Then, he straightened up, and fixed Remus with a look of sheer determination.

“Remus. I want to get back together.”

Remus’ heart, the traitorous bastard, leaped up into his throat and blocked all his words from coming out.

“It’s… it’s ok if you don’t want that,” Janus continued. His look of determination faltered slightly. “It’s ok. But I needed to tell you. Because I love you, so much. And I… I didn’t want you to think I didn’t, even if you don't-”

Remus found his words abruptly. “Jan, fuck! I do! I do love you. I never stopped loving you. All I want is to be with you.”

Janus’ eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Good, because I’ve just been offered a job here.”

Remus choked. Janus was eyeing him smugly. “You. Just like that, you got a job here?”

“Just like that,” Janus grinned. “I just came from the interview. They offered me a position on the spot.”

Remus couldn't help himself any longer. He lurched forward and pulled Janus tightly into his arms.

“Hey, be careful,” Janus said, though he made absolutely no effort to get out of Remus’ embrace. “You’ll crush our new son.”

Remus pulled back just enough to look at the small plant Janus held in his hands, and only then did his brain register what it was.

“Is! Is that-”

“Yes,” Janus replied, holding up the tiny Drosera Capensis seedling. Remus had wanted one of these for ages.

“For me?”

“Well, for us, ideally,” Janus answered, with a shy smile. “But, mostly for you, yes.”

Remus gently plucked the baby octopus plant- their new son!- from Janus’ hands, and placed it carefully on top of the milk crate that was serving as his carpentry workbench. Then, he hoisted Janus up off the ground and spun him around.

“Oh- Re-” Janus exclaimed, though he was laughing. “Put me down!”

“No!” Remus trilled. He spun Janus around once more. Then he just stood there, holding Janus, gazing up at him. Janus’ eyes grew soft. Slowly, he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair.

“Hey,” Janus said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Remus set Janus down, but kept his arms still wrapped tightly around him. His heart felt warm.

“Hey.”

Janus looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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albatris · 3 years

Text

@polyacery

:D!! yes!! ok!! yes!! please forgive the much-much-much-lengthier-than-intended ramble sorry thank you love you <3

first off, two facts about Noa and Kai:

they care about each other a lot

they cannot fucking STAND each other 90% of the time

they struggle a lot when it comes to teamwork, their personalities don't mesh well under pressure and their approaches to problem-solving differ wildly, so they often end up getting on each other’s nerves and being quite tense when they have to work together :P nothing, like, dramatic though, and nothing that escalates beyond general bickering and annoyance

that being said, on a personal and social level they do view each other as close friends and (can) get along well, though you’d be hard-pressed to get either of them to admit it. they share a lot of similarities (some of which I’ll go into) and both value the other as someone they can be open and honest with and drop their guard around, which is sayin somethin ‘cause openness and honesty are notoriously difficult for both of them lmao

in general I would say hmmmm

Noa views Kai (fondly) as a bastard and a swindler and possibly the most infuriating person she’s ever met, an opinion which does not change even as she grows to consider them a friend. like, genuinely? she fuckin hates their guts. and their ridiculously charming smile. and the way they can sweet talk their way into or out of any situation. she’s a little bitter about the way people just seem to hand over whatever Kai wants just ‘cause they’re a smooth-talker and good at pulling strings, ‘cause that level of uhhhhh sneaky interpersonal finesse is not something she’s ever really been able to access and it strikes her as cheating ahaha

that being said, though she finds their personality grating and their face punchable, they’re a person who cares intensely about people, not in an abstract theoretical all-talk-no-action kind of way, but in a concrete, physical, motivated “hey let me help you with that right now” kind of way, which Noa will never have any beef with. too many people sit around talking about what it means to do the right thing. not enough people get out there in a van full of interdimensional crime and pull off elaborate heists for the greater good

Kai has a similar take on Noa in that regard, as in, like. she’s kind of hardcore, yes. but. there are too many people sitting around talking about what it means to do the right thing, not enough people getting rightfully fucking unhinged and charging headfirst into injustice and cruelty and punching the shit out of it. her methods are a little too impulsive and headstrong for Kai’s tastes but it works for her n they’re cheering from the sidelines lol

but ye, Kai views Noa as. hm. a very very very intense person who is a lot of fun to mess with. pretty much as soon as Kai realises Noa isn’t going to be a threat in any capacity they’re like “sick now I have free reign to be the most annoying person in the universe” and they absolutely follow through. they find her passion and intensity amusing but admirable, and they were sold on the fact that she’s a good, kind person no matter her prickly exterior the second they saw how much she adores her mum c:

so, arguably, half of the next part is just,,,, me elaborating to an excessive extent,,,,, but this info used to be at the start of the ramble so I’d already written it before being like “hey wait a minute” so to hell with it I’m including it anyway

these two don’t get a lot of screentime together till the second half of the book and they have a pretty rocky start imo

like, Noa’s first impressions of Kai on two separate occasions are “that bastard who robbed me while I was on the clock” and “that random weirdo who somehow charmed my best friend into thinking they’re cool even though they sound like the shadiest motherfucker on the entire planet and I’m pretty sure they’re a serial killer”, which then culminate into “oh shit these are in fact the same person and they’re definitely bad news”

Kai never dislikes Noa the same way Noa dislikes them, but they are wary of her and have a healthy degree of fear regarding the threat she could pose to them.......... Kai and Noa’s different career choices put them at odds with each other right off the bat, what with Noa working for the Department of Interdimensional Instabilities and Kai operating a significantly less legal business that’s essentially the antithesis of the DII

plus Noa in general has a reputation for being Kind Of Fucking Terrifying

initially I would say they both view the other as “potentially a legitimate threat” and “not to be underestimated”, but post-mid-story-heist they get to spend some proper time together and form more grounded opinions of each other :P though arguably still for a considerable while the only reason they put up with each other is because Tris is like “:D” at them both and they’re like........ aw no I don’t wanna make him sad

Kai warms to Noa a lot faster than Noa warms to Kai, ‘cause Kai warms to most people pretty quick provided they’re not literal axe murderers. Noa starts to warm to Kai only after careful observation and assessment leads her to conclude the following two facts with reasonable certainty:

Kai does appear to be in possession of a solid moral compass

Kai has no ill intent towards Tris whatsoever

which tips the scale in their favour enough for her to be like “okay fine”

there's a level of distance and awkwardness between them for ages 'cause like, yeah, they're friends they guess but not like, friends-friends, there just seems to be something that's not clicking, n the main reason for that is just like

(handshake meme)

a deep-seated terror of being emotionally open and vulnerable resulting in a pathological need to project a loud outgoing persona that masks every ounce of insecurity and fear and prevents anyone from getting close enough to Know You: Noa 🤝 Kai

as soon as THAT realisation clicks for both of them n they're like "oh shit you're just like me and I know exactly how you feel" it instils a sense of connection and camaraderie between them and solidifies a kinship based on Something rather than simply "mutual friends" and "sometimes we're in the same place"

n like, obviously the others Know about the whole. situation. with Kai’s backstory but Kai’s still pretty cagey about it emotionally speaking.... I’m pretty sure Noa is?? the only person they manage to completely drop their guard around over the course of the story? in terms of like.... having a genuine heart-to-heart about the emotions involved and the fear n guilt

and like. yeah. yeah. Noa hasn’t made a friend besides Tris in like ten years n she’s also notoriously cagey with her emotions and her being genuine and vulnerable is just....... not a thing that happens very often or very easily.... and even less through a lot of the story

idk man. they’ve just got good vibes together

they offer each other a Safe Place and a level of understanding that maybe the others don’t quite grasp. even though the others r still empathetic and care for them a lot n have equally important things they bring to the friendship. Noa and Kai just have a vibe yeah

even though they’d sell each other to satan for one corn chip

#I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I'm mortified #djhgkdjfhgjdfsg #i'm incapable of being concise i know i say this all the time it truly is a problem for me lmao #i feel like any of the main four paired with each other is just going to be an absolute behemoth of a ramble i don't know if there was #any escaping this tbh lmao #anyway hello goodnight hope you're having a nice day #thx for letting me ramble ur the best #atdao

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celosiaa · 4 years

Note

Short sickfic/whump prompt: based on the brief instances when I've heard him sing, I know for a fact that Alex J Newall has quite a good singing voice (+ a really pretty vibrato 😍), and lately I've been thinking a lot about Martin singing to Jon as a way of calming and comforting him when he's ill or upset. So, a hurt/comfort scene involving singing, perhaps? ♥️

I loved this prompt!!! Thank you so much! Here is a short-ish fic about the transition between the Corruption and the Stranger, and the domains having an impact on Jon’s wellbeing.

The song in this fic is “Your Song” by Elton John, which you should definitely give a listen while you read! Please enjoy <3

Just a little longer.

Just hold on a bit, and he’ll be fine.

We’ll be fine.

Sniffling into his sleeve, Martin watches Jon sleep from where he’s curled up with his back against the tree, trying his best not to shiver in the cold he knows is not really there. After they’d left the sick village, Jon had grown weaker and weaker as they approached the next domain—his steps stumbling, his breathing ragged and worn—until Martin had at last forced them to stop. Jon had begun rambling, the words so badly slurred together he couldn’t make any of them out, and the ashen tone of his complexion was enough to convince Martin he was on the verge of blacking out. The way Jon was shaking…he couldn’t help but settle him beneath their blanket, head pillowed on a small pile of their hopelessly wrinkled clothes, though he knows for a fact a steadily climbing fever is wracking his body.

He swipes at his own brow, nose wrinkling against the sweat he finds there, before tipping his head back against the tree in an effort to stem the flow of this sudden congestion. Best he can figure, Jon had been overwhelmed with…well, whatever goes on inside his head these days, and with him weakened, it left both of them vulnerable to the effects of the Corruption. What else could possibly explain this illness out of nowhere, and the heat rolling off the man next to him in billows?

Jon shifts a little beneath the blanket, muttering feverishly with furrowed brows—the sight bringing hot, stinging tears into Martin’s eyes at once.

Damned fever, always making me weepy.

He swipes at his eyes in frustration, the buzzing in his sinuses building to a peak as he does—forcing him to turn away to stifle a few miserable sneezes into his sleeve. It seems his efforts to be quiet were unsuccessful, however—as Jon begins to move about in earnest, letting out a low moan that turns quickly into exhausted coughing.

“Sorry, Jon, I’m sorry,” Martin mutters, letting his knees fall toward him as he reaches for his forehead.

God, that’s horrendous.

He can’t help but wince at the heat he finds there—burning even against his own feverish palm. The coughing hasn’t stopped either, growing deeper by the moment, enough that it’s starting to sound a bit concerning.

“You alright?” Martin asks against the scratching of his own throat, lightly resting a hand on Jon’s chest.

It seems as though Jon did not hear him, merely continuing to cough wetly until his lungs at last settle down. When he finishes, he leans back against the makeshift pillow, breathing as deeply as he can, the dampness crackling through his lungs even as he does.

“You okay?” Martin repeats, running a hand up and down Jon’s clammy forearm.

Still, Jon does not reply, merely closing his eyes and muttering—statements, Martin’s sinking heart tells him, all jumbled together in miles and miles of words of pain, of suffering, of sorrow. It kills him to see Jon carry it all, and know he can do nothing.

Please please wake up

“Jon, can you hear me?” he asks, turning away for a moment to cough into his elbow. “I’m right here, sweetheart—come back to me if you can.”

Grasping his hand tightly, Martin bends down to press a kiss on Jon’s forehead, willing him to return, to say something, anything—

When he pulls back, the muttering has stopped—though only in voice, for Jon’s lips still move erratically around whatever words the Eye is pouring into his mind.

And now tears have begun to slip down his face.

“Oh, darling,” Martin sighs worriedly, cupping Jon’s face in his hands and brushing the tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

To his dismay, Jon takes a gasping inhale beneath his hands, eyes blown wide and wild, before wrenching forward into devastating, guttural sobs.

“Oh god, oh Jon, come here—”

Martin pulls Jon up into his arms, keeping a gentle hold around his trembling frame, hands wrapping around his torso and resting at the nape of his neck. In desperation, Jon clutches at Martin’s back, hands fisting into the folds of his jacket as his breaths pick up both shallowness and speed.

“Shh, shh—I’ve got you, darling, just hush now,” Martin soothes shakily, rocking him ever so softly back and forth, one hand reaching up to massage his scalp in a way he knows Jon usually finds relaxing.

But it’s all for naught, as he only continues to sob harder into his shoulder, hands clenching and unclenching in distress. It dismal, it’s horrid, it’s gut-wrenching—and Martin has no idea how to make it stop.

I’ve got to calm him.

There’s got to be something.

All at once, he is flooded with a memory of the two of them back at the safehouse—Martin in his boxers, Jon in his flannel pyjamas—in the kitchen, laughing and dancing to—

Martin clears his throat, and begins to sing.

It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

The hands clutching at his jacket begin to loosen, and Martin cannot help but smile.

I don't have much money, but boy, if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

And it’s so clear in his mind’s eye now, that for a moment, he’s sure that Jon is letting him See—the two of them in a proper house, with a dog and a garden and grey in their hair. It’s the loveliest thing Martin has ever longed for.

So excuse me forgettin', but these things I do

You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Jon has fully relaxed in his arms now, his breathing slowing down with every line of the song that Martin knows he’s mixed up the words for. Taking a pause for just a moment, he plants a kiss on the top of Jon’s head, swaying him side to side with the rhythm.

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

At first, he thought he’d imagined it—but Jon’s chest moves in a small shudder of a laugh, face still pressed into Martin’s shoulder.

“They really are, you know,” Martin whispers with a grin, and Jon shakes his head—before his shoulders follow, and Martin can feel the tears dampening his shirt beneath him.

“Oh, darling.” Martin sighs, heart breaking at the little gasps coming from beneath the mess of hair. “Shh, hush now, I’m right here.”

They spend a few moments like this before Martin continues, rocking him back and forth and praying to whatever gods there are that his voice will hold out for just a bit longer.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

At last, at long last, Jon picks up his head from Martin’s shoulder—just barely long enough to peck him on the cheek—before he flops back down again. The joy and relief that washes over Martin now is like nothing he’s ever felt—just grateful that maybe, for now, the worst has passed, and maybe Jon will be able to get some proper rest.

“Here, love—why don’t you lie down, okay? Just lie down on my lap here, you’ll be alright,” he encourages, gently guiding Jon to do just that.

For a moment, they remain silent—Martin stroking a hand through Jon’s fever-soaked curls, before he opens his eyes at last. Though green and glowing and so very strange now—they’re still endlessly deep, and so searching, and so very, very Jon.

God, I love you.

Even as he thinks this, Jon grabs his hand, bring it down to rest against his chest without looking away.

“One more time,” he says, voice whittled away into nothing. “Need you to see.”

“See…?”

“Please.”

And Martin cannot help but comply, as Jon’s eyes fall closed once more.

And you can tell everybody this is your song

All at once, he’s caught up in a vision—and he knows for certain Jon is feeding it to him, letting him in for just a moment—all for the purpose of showing him memories. Memories of them together.

Jon’s arm looped through his as they walk through a blustering Scottish afternoon—

It may be quite simple but now that it's done

Endless cups of tea set on Jon’s desk, before they melt into shared cups, shared tea, Jon making it in their kitchen, Martin teasing him about it not being right—

I hope you don't mind

Lying in bed together—

I hope you don't mind

Their lips joined together in an affront to the dark—

That I put down in words

The vision fades, and Martin is left with what’s in front of him—his love, his love, and nothing else.

I love you I love you I love you

Leaning over him with a blushing grin, Martin sings the last words, certain that he’s never sung them with such force of meaning as in this moment.

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Jon opens his eyes again at last, and—though ill and drained and exhausted beyond all measure—allows his face to melt into a smile, which Martin finds it impossible not to kiss.

“I love you too,” he whispers, before pressing another into his hair. “Now go to sleep.”

At once, Jon does his best to comply, and Martin is soon to follow—a moment of peace in the growing dark.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #tma sickfic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #my writing

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naphis-twewy-screams · 3 years

Text

damn.... i still haven't gotten over the neo:twewy ending:

holy hekk everything was just so good-

it took me

2 and a half days to beat the game

i started playing it as soon as it came out

and i barely slept while playing because i wanted to just binge it

and i wasn't expecting a lot of the stuff that happened-

so i just took a bit to process everything lol

here's some random incoherent all over the place rambles about my thoughts on everything since i just wanna express my feelings towards this game

it's *really* long and also heavy spoilers so imma put it under a read more:

i remember screaming when beat showed up

cuz i was already suspecting that hooded man wasn't neku

i mean cmon man neku isn't blonde and bones aren't really his style so it was pretty suspicious to me

and beat was a welcomed surprise i was so happy to see him-

i wasn't surpised when minami left the party

i was guessing that it was gonna happen since that's how it went in the past game

with having to change partners and all that

but beat staying with the group was something i wasn't expecting!

and it was obvious that shokie was gonna join the twisters like she's on the cover and everything it seemed pretty obvious to me

even the whole "oh shoka is swallow" thing i guessed pretty early on

i was still pretty happy when i turned out to be right though

oh my lord nagi's obsession with sho was hilarious to me

almost every time he was on screen you could just see her portrait gazing at him it was really funny to me

motoi's reveal of being kinda selfish wasn't thqt big of a surprise

but i was still pretty sad about it cuz he was really nice before and poor rindo man-

his death was also pretty depressing

fuya's death didn't affect me as much tho tbh

i never really liked the guy and there wasn't really much about him that i knew

though his death was a bit scary

even though i expected it

kanon's death though-

her death made me really sad-

poor fret man he was getting closer to her and they just killed her off-

she was actually a lot nicer than i was expecting

i thought she was gonna be some a-hole who just acted like some big-shot

but no she was actually really nice and was really helpful-

i wasn't actually expecting her to die so i was pretty surprised

and poor fret he went through a lot that day-

i wasn't expecting much from fret

i thought he was gonna be the basic "im the only one that nothing bad really happens to"

but no he has proper character development and sad stuff and honestly i was surprised

probably because my expectations were pretty low

nagi honestly doesn't have as much past stuff going on

but she also has some character development in which she kinda learns more about others

and her relationship with fret was really good!

she started of hating him but in the end they both grew to have a mutual understanding of each other

and i adore that so much honestly

oh ayano-

poor lady just wanted things to be like they've always been

she just wanted to stay with shoka and be happy

she didn't deserve to die-

i thought i wasn't gonna like her or shoka

but i ended up liking em both a bunch-

found family falling apart really hurts ;;;

i thought i wasn't gonna like shiba

but i actually ended up liking him a bit at the end

kubo on the other hand

i thought i wasn't gonna like him

and now i like him even less

he smells

i don't really know how to feel about haz

he's pretty mysterious and i don't really know much about him yet

he gives off josh vibes though

which i don't know if that's a good sign

nekuuuuu

i thought he wasn't gonna be in the game so when i saw him i started screaming-

it was 5 am and i was yelling about my boi nekuuuuu

i was so happy to see him i missed him so much-

i definitely wasn't expecting the whole "oh yeah im teaming up with coco" thing though

cuz coco literally *shot* him but ok-

also wasn't expecting tsugumi to be friends with coco but hey i ain't complaining-

i remember being really estatic when they showed a part of rhyme's portrait in that one scene

same goes for shiki

and i was even more happy to see them entirely like finally the group is back together again-

even josh showed up which damn has his personality barely changed why did you just teleport shokie somewhere random like that??

i mean yea you revived her but still dude she's gonna starve out there i mean she's fine now but still-

anyway-

shiki just knowing neku was there even though she couldn't see him that hurts man-

ngl i was kinda hoping to see eri or somethin

but oh well lol we still got the other girlbosses so it's chill and im still very happy

susy k was a pretty interesting character

i thought i wasn't gonna like him but here we are

uzuki and kariyaaaaa

was really glad to see em again

their interactions with the ogs was really funny to me cuz they barely remembered the poor reapers and it was just really cool lol

the fact that even they have like a lil bit of character development was really neat to see cuz i was pretty much just expecting them to just sit in a corner and do nothing but that wasn't the case so im happy

the whole time travel is bad actually was a really interesting twist!

poor rindo though he suffered so much-

the whole tsugumi showing visions to rindo and neku was also pretty cool

and i got one of the secret reports (the 3rd one) and

are these written by mr h?

i'd be pretty happy if they were cuz he's nowhere to be found right now in the game and i miss him

i remember not knowing how to get the legendary outfit set that you were supposed to get from preordering the game

turns out i had to quit and re-enter

which by the time i found that out i was already at the start of week 3 without quitting the game even once

so i got pretty annoyed but oh well at least i still got it lol

when i got the preorder bonus outfit

i immediately gave them to beat because i thought that to be a funny choice

until neku came along so i then gave the clothes to him because well they're his clothes and im sad

but yea that was a thing

the soundtrack is a bop i don't think ill ever grow tired of it honestly

it's so good and just aaaaa-

oh yea and another day was pretty funny

i love the mention of tin pin since that was a big thing in twewy's another day and it's just really cool to me

which reminds me of when reaper creeper was mentioned in week 3

that was also really neat

i think

im running out of things to say

took me long enough

ok that's all for now

ill try and post some fanart soon maybe?

if i ever get the motivation to do so lol

or maybe ill be back to ramble if i realize that i forgot something

toodles!

#naphi screaming #neo twewy #neo the world ends with you #neo twewy spoilers #neo the world ends with you spoilers #major neo twewy spoilers

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

Text

Home Front, Mission 1: Zombies, Stay Inside!

Lockdown workout

[paper rustles, microphone creaks]

SAM YAO: Hello, runners. Sorry, that didn't sound very friendly. Everything's fine. Sorry! I'm trying to sound less terrified. Hello. No, wait. That... Well, that just sounded sinister. Okay, I'm going Sean Connery. [imitates Sean Connery] Hello. [own voice] Ugh... Okay. Maybe I should just move on from saying hello. How are you all doing? I'm not amazing.

To recap, in case you've been stuck in a hole for the past week... Although maybe some of you are stuck in actual holes, in-in which case, I hope your hole is not full of water. And if it is full of water, I hope the water is drinkable.

Anyway, yes. To recap, there's a horde. Well, you all know that. You can see the horde out there. What happened was - we think - some runners got a huge warehouse open just south of the city. It had been sealed up since Z-Day and not a peep from inside it, so everyone thought it'd be full of useful supplies.

Well anyway, it was full of about 18,000 zombies and now they're surrounding Abel. Um, yeah, that's just an estimate. Janine was trying to tell me about modeling population numbers, but I couldn't really understand what she was going on about. She sort of rambles when she's anxious, have you noticed that?

[sighs] Well, we've all been caught unawares by this. Whether you were outside when the horde arrived or stuck inside like me, you'll be there for quite a while. So um, all right! My job is to keep morale up! Does it help keep morale up to say this is a really crappy situation, but one day it will definitely be over? Also - also, you know what helps keep morale up? Dancing! So I'm-I'm just going to put on a tune and uh, well, if you can, get up and dance while it's on. Or chair dance or wiggle your eyes. Yeah, okay. [laughs] This one always gets me moving.

[paper rustles]

SAM YAO: Okay, okay, I do have something here! I have Ministry guidelines on exercises that can be done at home. So I tell you what. I'm in the comms shack, so while I do the exercises myself, I'll read out their instructions and time them, okay? And then if you're also stuck inside, you can do them along with me. Hey, even if you're not stuck inside, you can do them. It'll be fun, or at least distracting.

Anyway, after I've explained every exercise, I'll play a song, and if you're tired, you can use the song to rest. But if you've got loads of energy, use the songs to continue the exercise, or I don't know, just dance around. Obviously, you must judge for yourself how you're feeling. Don't push yourself too hard and don't do it if it hurts. Okay? Okay. We can do this.

[paper rustles] Okay. Um, first exercise is step ups. We're gonna step on and off a stair for 30 seconds with each leg. Now if you're near some stairs, use the bottom one or whichever stair is furthest from the zombies, I guess. If you haven't got stairs, use something sturdy and stable to step up onto. So like, well, not a wobbly box. It also says here, uh, yeah. If you can, try not to use your back leg too much to push off with and don't let your knees go over your toes. This exercise will strengthen your thighs. Hmmm.

Okay, I'm going to use the step down into the comms shack. [chair creaks, cloth rustles] Okay, let's do it for 30 seconds. First leg. Ready, and... [breathy sounds from doing exercise] Wow. That is burning more than I thought. 15 seconds to go. Okay, time to change legs. Another 30 seconds, and go! Ow. 15 seconds to go. Right, that's it. If you feel like that was too easy - too easy! - you can do it more during this song, or even hold a weight next time. Maybe a tin of beans? Now if you need a rest, here's a song that always makes me think of long summer afternoons.

SAM YAO: You know what? I actually can feel that in my thighs. Also, building those muscles will come in handy for running up stairs away from zombies, so you know, life skills?

Whoa, man. Now I don't know where you all are, but it looks really weird out there. Like, I'm used to seeing the streets empty, the fields deserted, but now, just all the zombies. The crowd of them is like swirling. I'm starting to see patterns in it. Like there! There, look! Those two gaps have opened up in the horde like eyes. Oh my God, there! That gap under the eyes, it's like totally a smiling mouth!

You see it right? Uh, well, I-I guess if you can see the same horde as me. Anyway, time for another dance break. Make sure you throw some good shapes to this song, and have a good time imagining me going wild to it as well.

SAM YAO: I don't know about you, but I'm getting a pretty good workout here. Janine popped her head round the door to say if you don't like dancing, you can always run on the spot during the music breaks. But who doesn't like dancing? Dancing is what separates us from the zombies. Even Janine likes dancing, as long as there are loads of rules she can learn about how to do it properly.

All right, next exercise. Oh, [laughs] this one sounds fun. Dead bug walking. The instructions are lie on your back with your arms and legs in the air like a dying bug. Wow, that's kind of sad for the bug. Maybe we can lie on our backs with our arms and legs in the air like a puppy asking for a belly rub. Okay? Right. Sorry. Then we walk our arms and legs in the air for one minute as rapidly as we can. Okay, that sounds interesting. Right, down on the ground. [chair creaks, cloth rustles] Okay, now I'm going to do it... One minute. Ready? Go!

[breathy sounds from doing exercise] Anyone else getting their arms and legs a bit tangled? Because I... 30 seconds to go. [mutters repeatedly] Buggy buggy bug, buggy buggy bug… puppy puppy pup. puppy puppy pup, buggy buggy... [out loud] Okay, that's that one! [microphone creaks] And if you're feeling tired out, take a rest. Otherwise, carry on with the buggy buggy exercise or dance or yeah, jog in a military fashion during this next song, which I happen to know both dogs and bugs really enjoy. Hmmm.

SAM YAO: Amazing! I can feel my blood pumping again. Oh man, just sitting down has not been good for me. Okay. Hey, this-this does feel good, actually. Someone should look into whether exercise improves your mental health or something. [sighs] Yes, yes. Janine is letting me know that before the apocalypse… I-I know, Janine! I know.

It feels nice to be connected to everyone, too. I don't know where you all are, but thinking of you all doing this with me, it's almost like we're together. And you know, my runners are like… [sighs] I mean, you mean a lot to me, that's all. Now if you're stuck at home, please come and tell us where you are on Rofflenet, or send us a message. That way, I can imagine you all as we're exercising together. I could even do shout-outs, like a real DJ!

And like a real DJ, I'm gonna put on another song! Use it to dance to, or to jog on the spot to. Or if the space you're in is looking incredibly messy, you could use it to tidy up. Janine said I should say that one. I don't… [scoffs] Anyway, here's a song to clean up your space to.

SAM YAO: Okay. I have to say, it is nice that the shack doesn't have, well, so many piles of papers lying around. Here's the final proper exercise of the day. We're going to do some bodyweight squats. Here's the Ministry's instructions. [paper rustles] I'll read it slowly.

Stand upright with your arms by your sides and your feet hip distance apart. Okay, done. Now squat down as if you were about to sit in a chair. That's good, because I'm right next to my chair. [paper rustles] It says here take care that your knees don't come out further than your feet as you squat. Your bottom should be sticking out. Okay. Hang on. Now this is important. If you need support, you can slide down a wall. Amazing! Okay. We're going to do this for one minute. Ready? And go!

Oh my God, my legs are going to fall off! Only 30 seconds to go. Oh boy! Ah, that's it. One minute of squats. Good work, everyone. I'm gonna take a break, shake my legs out, and then maybe do some dancing. Janine doesn't appreciate my Electric Slide, but she just has no taste. If you have stronger thighs than me, carry on doing squats. Or dance, or have a rest. Here we go. Music to ignore the zombie horde by.

SAM YAO: Oh my God, that song takes me back! [laugh] Right, I was at college, and this bloke in the room next door just could not stop playing it. Literally. Set his alarm to play it every single morning. Now turned out his boyfriend also couldn't stand it, so we decided to make up an internet story that listening to that particular song on repeat had been linked to bleeding from the eyes.

I mean, he was a really great guy, Gadney, but not the smartest. And me and Dill paid for Facebook ads targeted at literally only him about the mystery music illness. And he believed it! We both said we'd heard about it, too, and we were really worried about him.

I bet you think this story is going to end with them both going zom, right? But no! They're in a commune in Sunderland. So if you happen to have heard this, Gadney, I'm sorry. That song won't actually make your eardrums burst. It's great - in moderation!

Anyway, we're nearly done. It's time for cooldown. Do some gentle stretches or dance - but like, less energetically? - to this next mega hit.

SAM YAO: [sighs] Ah, that was a good one. Chill. Like hopeful at the same time, you know? Okay. Hm. This has been fun. Now I know some of you runners are far enough away from the horde to be able to run outside without getting close to any of the zoms, but doing these exercises has really made me feel better. Hopefully it's made you all feel better, too.

We're going to do it again soon, with more exercises and maybe other things. I might even take requests! Come and talk to me on Rofflenet. Send me a message, let me know what you'd like to hear. And I think a few other runners out there have microphones, so you never know who you'll hear from next!

Yeah. My dad said zhàogù hǎo zìjǐ every time me and my sister went away. Hmm. So that's what I'm going to say, too. Zhàogù hǎo zìjǐ, which means take care of yourself. And I've never meant it more. Stay safe out there.

Thanks to Aaron (themalaysiamerican on Rofflenet) for help on this transcript!

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf1 #zombies stay inside!#zr transcript

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art-gelato · 4 years

Text

How the Heart Bends

Aaarrrgghh works through some personal issues while Blinky works through quite a lot of fur. [AO3]

Aaarrrgghh doubtfully eyed the bag slung over Blinky’s shoulder, as Blinky stood before the larger troll with all four of his palms facing up. “I promise this is a good idea,” Blinky said.

Backing up a little, Aaarrrgghh made a rumbling noise. It had been a week since the Battle of Killahead, and the former Gumm-Gumm was on edge. A lot had happened, and most of it felt too good to be true. The Dwoza trolls were wary of him, of course, and that was the only thing that was currently convincing him that the oversized bowl dropped on him hadn’t sent him into a deep dream. Otherwise, being free of Gunmar, being friends with Blinky… it was good. And Aaarrrgghh didn’t trust it when things seemed good. Too often, there was another shoe waiting to drop.

But it had been a week, and the scales hadn’t tipped for the worse.

It made him tense.

And now Blinky was proposing something that would require him to completely drop his guard, that would require vulnerability.

Aaarrrgghh shook his head.

Blinky’s lower hands clenched, before he took a deep breath to relax again. “Aaarrrgghh,” he said calmly. “Your mane is a mess. Please allow me to-”

Aaarrrgghh snorted, and Blinky squinted against the hot blast of air.

“At least tell me why you won’t,” Blinky pleaded, frustration creeping into his voice.

Aaarrrgghh ground his knuckles against the stone floor of Blinky’s dwelling. Blinky was between him and the exit, and though he could easily push the smaller troll aside, the thought of raising a hand to his new friend made him feel ill. Gunmar’s voice, ever present through his upbringing and not yet banished from his head, berated him for his weakness. “Can do it myself,” he grumbled.

“Clearly, you can’t!” Blinky snapped back, his patience running thin. He rubbed his face with his upper set of hands, while patting the air in a settling gesture with his lower set. “Apologies, my friend. I didn’t mean to take a harsh tone. But I can reach the places you cannot, and Gumm-Gumms aren’t especially known for their hygiene. No offense.”

Looking away, Aaarrrgghh hunched his shoulders. It was true, and no offense was taken. However, it just made him all the more aware of how he didn’t fit into this new setting. All the trolls here had different values, a whole different culture from him. He was already an adult—how could he ever hope to catch up with the rest of them? He might have shed his Gumm-Gumm armor, but maybe there were just some fundamental things about him that couldn’t be changed.

“Aaarrrgghh,” Blinky said softly, stepping closer. He held out a hand, but didn’t make contact. “You are safe in this place. You can be honest with me. What’s bothering you?”

Aaarrrgghh wanted to believe Blinky. He wanted to so badly. But trust and safety were antithetical to the world he’d been raised in, to every lesson he’d ever learned.

Well… almost every lesson. He was still learning, wasn’t he? Hesitantly, he moved his own hand forward so the knuckles pressed against Blinky’s palm. “Scared,” he admitted.

Blinky’s fingers folded over the hand that was so much larger than his own. “Who isn’t?” he said, his face creasing into a warm smile. “We live in a strange and frightening world. But that is what friends are for, yes? To make the world a little less so. To create our own pockets of comfort.”

Aaarrrgghh let out a shaky breath. Comfort. Slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”

“Excellent!” Blinky declared, stepping back and digging into his satchel. Aaarrrgghh felt an odd stab of disappointment at the loss of contact. “I’ll start with brushing your fur, to make it easier to wash. Then we can head to the springs, if you’re up for it, and I’ll teach you about proper grooming so you don’t have to rely on me.”

As Blinky rambled, Aaarrrgghh lowered himself to the floor, lying on his belly to give Blinky easy access. He was becoming very fond of listening to Blinky talk—which was fortunate, because the smaller troll never seemed to run out of things to say. Once Aaarrrgghh was comfortably settled, Blinky approached him with a wiry brush in one hand and scissors in another.

“If I tug too hard on a knot, or if you get overwhelmed and want to stop, just let me know, alright?” Blinky asked, waiting for an assenting nod before reaching for the back of Aaarrrgghh’s head.

Aaarrrgghh suppressed a flinch as Blinky’s hands entered his blind spot, focusing instead on keeping his breathing steady. Blinky was silent at first as he worked the brush through the tangles and knots of Aaarrrgghh’s shaggy mane, pausing occasionally to make sure Aaarrrgghh was still okay. Then, as he fell into a rhythm, he began to hum softly. It wasn’t a familiar tune to Aaarrrgghh, but it was a soothing one—somehow putting him in mind of warm summer evenings, of a gentle breeze in the trees and a chorus of crickets in the grass. Blinky did his work well, his many hands moving deftly down Aaarrrgghh’s neck and over his shoulders. Sometimes the humming would be interrupted by a muttered curse as Blinky discovered a mat of fur he couldn’t brush through, but even that was strangely relaxing.

Eventually, Aaarrrgghh became aware of a steady rumbling sound, and was surprised to realize that he was the source of it. He shifted subtly so one of his hands was under his chest, and marveled at the vibrations coming from deep within. “What-” he began, and the rumbling stopped.

“You have a wonderful purr,” Blinky remarked as he carefully freed a tangled twig. “Though a little rusty, it seems.”

“Didn’t know I could do that,” Aaarrrgghh mumbled, fighting the childish urge to hide his face in embarrassment.

Blinky’s hands stilled for a moment before continuing their task. He didn’t speak or hum, or make any sound at all for a little while. At last, he murmured, “Thank you.”

Aaarrrgghh wanted to look at Blinky, but that would require turning his head and upsetting the amiable peace they’d formed together. “What for?”

“Letting me help you with this,” Blinky replied. “For… letting me in at all.”

At first, Aaarrrgghh wasn’t really sure how to respond. He just let Blinky’s hands run through his fur, clearing away decades of neglect. “I trust you,” he finally replied.

Blinky let out a small chuckle. “It wasn’t so long ago that you hated me.”

True. Aaarrrgghh could still remember it with crystal clarity, how all his resentment at being captured by a bunch of gravel miners had channeled directly towards the one who was tasked with keeping an eye on him. “And you were scared of me,” he said. He remembered, too, Blinky’s concerned hand on his back, so soon after being so worried for his own wellbeing. Before that touch, physical contact had always been something to dread.

“What a start, eh?” Blinky said, and then the playfulness in his voice faded to weariness. “What a pair we are.” His hands slowed, and he took a shuddering breath before speaking again. “I’m going to have to climb on your back to reach some spots. Is that okay?”

Aaarrrgghh wished he knew what Blinky was thinking about, to sound so tired. He wondered if he was allowed to ask. “Yeah,” he said.

With a small grunt of effort, Blinky hoisted himself up Aaarrrgghh’s side and onto his broad back. It wasn’t long before Blinky was humming again as he worked, a new song that was just as relaxing as the last. He was small enough that his weight didn’t make Aaarrrgghh feel pinned or trapped, and so the big troll’s eyes slowly slipped shut as he began to purr again.

Aaarrrgghh must have drifted off at some point, because it felt like mere moments later that he was roused by two hands patting his arm. He blinked his eyes open to see Blinky standing before him, smiling.

“I hate to disturb you when you look so comfortable, but I have to get your front now,” Blinky said.

Aaarrrgghh made a rumbling noise that he hoped was agreeable as he sat up, shaking off the last shreds of drowsiness. Blinky stepped forward and got back to work, and Aaarrrgghh’s attention wandered around the cramped dwelling. There were tufts of fur scattered on the floor about him, along with twigs and some leaves. He was surprised to see a few bone fragments as well—while Gumm-Gumm cleanliness standards were lower than those of other trolls, they drew the line at leaving the remains of prey in one’s fur. Blood and gore left to fester could bring disease with it, and the stench could drive game away or reveal your position to an enemy.

Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising, though. No one had ever helped Aaarrrgghh clean himself up, and as Blinky had said, there were places he couldn’t reach.

His gaze slid back to Blinky. The smaller troll was lost in his mission, brow furrowed in concentration as his four hands worked through the mass of green fur. The tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth.

Aaarrrgghh’s chest suddenly felt tight.

There must have been some telltale shift in his demeanor, because two of Blinky’s eyes looked upwards. “Are you quite alright?”

Aaarrrgghh didn’t know if those bones were animal or human. For so long, he’d never truly thought of them as two separate categories. In more recent years, he’d been noticing the differences, but hadn’t allowed himself to dwell too long on them. His throat worked a couple of times before he managed, “Still… scared of me?”

The other four eyes joined the first two, and Blinky flattened one of his palms against Aaarrrgghh’s chest. “No,” he said softly. “I’m not.”

For some reason, panic flooded through Aaarrrgghh at this answer. He knew it already, of course—Blinky wouldn’t be this close, wouldn’t be so relaxed if he was afraid. But, but- “You should be.”

“Why is that?” Blinky asked, corner of his mouth quirking up. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Aaarrrgghh’s nostrils flared. “I could.” It would be so easy. Blinky was full of openings and weak points, and he almost certainly hadn’t ever been in a proper fight before Killahead. He could barely hold off a few goblins. So why wasn’t he afraid of Aaarrrgghh?

Blinky sighed. “I know that,” he said. “But are you going to?”

Aaarrrgghh had never had a choice before. His purpose was to hurt others, and he was as much Gunmar’s weapon as the Decimaar Blade. But Gunmar was gone, and even before that, Aaarrrgghh had defected. He wasn’t a Gumm-Gumm anymore—he was just a troll taking up too much space in a home that hadn’t been designed for someone his size. He was a friend. “No,” he said.

Blinky smiled, warm enough to burn. “I know,” he said. “I trust you, too.”

Aaarrrgghh averted his gaze; looking in Blinky in the face right then felt akin to staring at the sun. He wanted to say, A week isn’t enough to know you can trust someone. A week is nothing. Trust is too precious to be given so easily. But would that make him a hypocrite? After all, he was the one who had admitted to trusting Blinky first.

That was different, though. Blinky couldn’t hurt him.

Well… not alone. But all it would take was one word from Blinky to turn the rest of Dwoza into a mob against Aaarrrgghh. His residence here was fragile, and Blinky was all that stood between Aaarrrgghh and life as a complete outcast. It was a terrifying thought. Here he was, living in a den of former enemies, and his sole guard was an undersized bookworm who brought a broom to a swordfight.

Worst of all, Aaarrrgghh didn’t think there was anyone better for the job. He trusted Blinky with his life—not just because he had no other choice, but because he knew Blinky would defend him. He’d already gotten proof of that, when Blinky had wasted precious time before an impending battle to free Aaarrrgghh from prison. Aaarrrgghh still didn’t really understand why, but no one had ever done anything like that for him before. Gunmar wouldn’t have even considered going out of his way to help, for all the centuries of loyalty Aaarrrgghh had provided him with.

“Thank you,” Aaarrrgghh said, his ears flattening in discomfort.

“Of course,” Blinky replied easily. He tugged the brush through Aaarrrgghh’s fur a few more times, then stepped back. “Well, we’re done this part. Would you like to move on?”

Right. Blinky had said something about springs. Aaarrrgghh nodded, and Blinky grinned. “Follow me, then!”

Aaarrrgghh trailed after Blinky as the smaller troll led him through the heart of Dwoza. The other trolls gave the pair a wide berth, and mutters dogged their heels through the caverns. Blinky’s expression remained pleasant and friendly as he rambled about the structures they passed—the history, the materials, the building techniques—but his ears occasionally twitched in the direction of the whispers. As they went deeper into the caves, the number of trolls dwindled.

“Does it bother you?” Aaarrrgghh asked when there was finally no one else around.

Blinky paused in the middle of explaining how this particular tunnel below Dwoza had been discovered. “Does what bother me?”

“What others say,” Aaarrrgghh said.

“Ah,” Blinky said, then let out a brief chuckle. “No. To be frank, I’ve never been especially popular here. They all think I’m… a bit odd, to put it mildly.”

Aaarrrgghh frowned.

“Not that I mind,” Blinky added with a shrug. “I am odd. And why should I care if they think ill of me for it? I’ve always had Dictatious. I-” He stopped walking so abruptly that he skidded on the gravel underfoot, and Aaarrrgghh grabbed him by the shoulders before he could fall.

This was the first time Blinky had said his brother’s name since the immediate aftermath of Killahead, seeming to do his best to avoid the subject of Dictatious entirely. Blinky looked shaken by the slip, both literal and metaphorical. “I never needed anyone else,” he finished vacantly.

Aaarrrgghh wanted to say something about how Blinky had him now, but the words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same. They’d only known each other for a couple of weeks, and for half that time they’d been on opposite sides. He couldn’t replace a beloved brother, and he didn’t want to. He just… wanted Blinky to feel better.

Remembering how it had seemed to work before, Aaarrrgghh moved one of his hands and gently patted Blinky on the head. It was a clumsy and awkward gesture, speaking to centuries of inexperience in dealing with the more fragile emotions, but the tension drained from Blinky’s frame. His expression softened, and he put his hand over the one Aaarrrgghh had left on his shoulder. “Ah, forgive me,” Blinky said, giving Aaarrrgghh a rueful look. “I’m supposed to be assisting you today.”

“We help each other,” Aaarrrgghh replied. “Alone together.”

Blinky scrubbed at his face, then smiled weakly. “Quite right,” he said. “Though I find myself feeling less and less alone, the more we spend time with each other.”

“Me too.” Reluctantly, Aaarrrgghh let his hand slide off Blinky’s shoulder.

The loss of contact seemed to snap Blinky out of his thoughts, and he cleared his throat. “It’s not much further now,” he said, beginning to walk again. “Should be just around this corner.”

Aaarrrgghh trundled after Blinky as he followed the curve of the tunnel. Sure enough, after the bend, the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern. The floor was dotted with milky pools, many of which fed into each other. Steam rose from them, either venting through a few shafts in the ceiling or condensing against the vaulted rock, dripping back down along stalactites mirrored by stalagmites. It was a stunning view.

“Wow,” Aaarrrgghh said, at a loss for any other words.

“The springs!” Blinky announced grandly, spreading his arms out in presentation. “Fed by a water system much further below us and heated by magma, they’re full of minerals that are quite healthy for our living stone. And, due to the influence of our local Heartstone, they have some minor healing properties as well! Mainly, though, they make for an exceedingly relaxing soak.” He gestured towards the pools. “Take your pick.”

Aaarrrgghh hesitated, then wandered over to one of the larger pools. Blinky stood beside him as he dipped a finger in to test the temperature. If he weren’t made of stone it would be scalding, but the heat felt good. Something in the water fizzled pleasantly against his skin, and he could feel the faint, familiar thrum of Heartstone energy.

“Ah, before you get in… it will probably take that paint off, or at least fade it,” Blinky said, twisting the fingers of his top set of hands together. “I assume you don’t mind, but… just in case?”

Aaarrrgghh traced his thumb down the side of his chin, where he knew a stripe of white paint was. “Want it gone,” he said. It was warrior’s paint, and he wasn’t a warrior anymore. He eased into the water, careful not to splash too much liquid over the edge. Sinking until he was sitting at the bottom, he leaned back against the side of the spring. The waterline reached halfway up his chest, and he watched the cloudy-white surface ripple hypnotically around him.

Blinky picked up a bucket lying on its side beside a nearby stalagmite and passed it through the spring to fill it. He stepped behind Aaarrrgghh. “I am going to douse you now,” he said, so seriously that Aaarrrgghh couldn’t help a huff of laughter. “I just didn’t want to take you by surprise,” Blinky added, a touch defensively but still in good humor, and upended the bucket over Aaarrrgghh’s head.

Aaarrrgghh snorted to keep the water out of his nose, then pushed his fur back from his forehead. Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he saw one of Blinky’s hands beside his face, offering a lump of something that looked like thick mud. “It’s clay,” Blinky explained. “I’m using it to wash your fur. If you could get your front while I get your back…?”

“Clay,” Aaarrrgghh echoed, accepting the handful.

“It’s a mixture of minerals, many of which are found in these very waters,” Blinky said, and Aaarrrgghh felt him begin to work some of the substance into his fur, starting at the top of Aaarrrgghh’s head. “Make sure you work it in to the roots. That’ll get your mane clean all the way through, and it’s good for your skin as well.” He began to ramble about the ingredients and their various benefits.

Aaarrrgghh only half-listened. He didn’t understand all the words Blinky used, but he got the gist of it. After a moment of contemplation, he smeared the clay across the fur on his chest and began to do as Blinky instructed. The clay had a grainy texture that was surprisingly nice, like it was scratching an itch he hadn’t even known was there. Since his own hands were much bigger and he had less area to cover, he finished claying up the front part of his mane before Blinky was past his shoulders.

By then, Blinky had run out of things to say about clay and moved on to explaining how the spring system worked, which involved even more words Aaarrrgghh didn’t know. It seemed more interesting than the clay—at least, Blinky certainly got more excited while talking about it. Aaarrrgghh was kind of disappointed he couldn’t understand it better, but he didn’t want to annoy Blinky by asking questions. Still, one eventually slipped out. “Aquifer?”

Immediately, he winced. He’d interrupted Blinky mid-sentence. Under Gunmar’s command, that alone would have been enough to send the warlord into a rage, never mind the unnecessary questioning.

But he’d braced himself for a punishment that wasn’t coming.

Blinky immediately lit up and dove into an explanation about how water moved underground, and Aaarrrgghh started to understand. Not just about the springs and such, but about Blinky and about this new life.

There were no scales to tip, no other shoe to drop. Blinky wasn’t Gunmar, wasn’t constantly searching for new and creative ways to flex his power over others. Things were good, without condition, and they could stay good.

A weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying fell away from his shoulders, like an echo of the armor he’d left behind.

“Alright!” Blinky declared, patting Aaarrrgghh’s back. “Now, you can simply rinse off by submerging yourself in the water.”

Aaarrrgghh slid down until the water was at his chin, and he tilted his head back to look at Blinky.

The smaller troll was standing with his arms akimbo, the corner of his mouth quirked fondly upwards. “Enjoying yourself?” Blinky asked.

Humming an affirmative, Aaarrrgghh slid the rest of the way into the water. He swished around until the gritty, mucky feeling of the clay was gone, then resurfaced. Shaking his head free of excess water, he looked around and saw Blinky holding a rag and a brush that looked like the end of a broom. He gave Blinky a curious look.

“The paint,” Blinky said. “You said you wanted it gone?”

Aaarrrgghh nodded, so Blinky held out the rag to him. “Use this on your face. I’ll get your back.”

The cloth’s texture was coarse, just shy of true abrasiveness. Aaarrrgghh dipped it in the water and passed it over his face a few times, as Blinky scrubbed at his back. There were a couple of stripes on his chest as well, and he scoured them until only the faintest hint of white remained. It took Blinky considerably longer to finish Aaarrrgghh’s back, as that was where the majority of the paint was, but eventually he stepped back with a harrumph. “That should do it,” he said, cricking his neck.

Aaarrrgghh looked at him, and Blinky sighed.

“Here,” Blinky said, holding out his hand. “You missed some spots.”

“Sorry,” Aaarrrgghh replied, handing over the rag.

Blinky huffed. “No need to apologize,” he said. He gently took Aaarrrgghh’s face in his lower set of hands, guiding it towards him as he rubbed away the remaining paint.

Aaarrrgghh’s eyes closed. He really could get used to this. For a moment, it was a frightening thought—he was vulnerable, he was being weak—but then Blinky’s thumb brushed across his cheek. The gesture served no obvious purpose, but the soft scrape of Blinky’s stone against Aaarrrgghh’s was so deeply soothing that Aaarrrgghh couldn’t keep a content grumble from escaping his chest.

“There we go,” Blinky murmured, pulling the rag back but leaving his hands where they were. “Why, you look like a brand-new troll.”

“Good?” Aaarrrgghh asked.

Blinky patted the sides of Aaarrrgghh’s face. “Very good,” he said before withdrawing.

Feeling boneless, Aaarrrgghh sank back into the spring, letting out a long, low hum.

“I take it you’d like to soak a little longer,” Blinky said, and Aaarrrgghh could hear the smile in his voice. Aaarrrgghh just grunted an affirmative. “Mind if I join you?”

In lieu of a verbal response, Aaarrrgghh shifted his position so there would be room for both of them. Blinky undid his suspenders and stepped out of his trousers, taking a moment to fold them neatly by the spring before sliding into the water. He settled opposite Aaarrrgghh, rolling his shoulders with a sigh of satisfaction.

Aaarrrgghh wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky, wasn’t even entirely sure he deserved it. Still, he wasn’t going to question it. Because for the first time in his life, he began to feel like he could truly believe in a happy future. It was a tentative spark of hope, one he wasn’t really familiar with—and so he tested it.

“Blinky?” he rumbled.

“Yes, Aaarrrgghh?”

“We’re going to be okay.”

Blinky lifted his head from where he’d been resting it against the edge of the spring, giving Aaarrrgghh a soft, searching look. “Yes,” he said after a moment, and Aaarrrgghh could see the same spark in his eyes. “We are.”

#tales of arcadia #trollhunters #blinkous galadrigal #aaarrrgghh #wizards toa #writing counts as art

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zappho · 4 years

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Some Meta on Murdock and mental illness

Generally speakig, The A-Team is a dumbass, light-hearted comedy with action on the same level as youtube poop videos. Obviously there isn’t alot of depth to be found here. The show had tons of different writers, all with their own take on Murdock and none of them offer any clear info or a proper backstory for the character. It’s basically up to the audience to fill in the blanks and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do by overanalyzing the mess that is the show’s canon.

The question of whether Murdock is ‘‘‘really crazy or just faking’‘’ has been around for over 30 years, but I’m gonna argue that he’s both.

When Kelly visits Murdock in the psychiatric hospital and confronts him about why he’s living there in the first place he gets instantly uncomfortable.

He really didn’t want her to ask, it’s why he’s been avoiding her. Joking about how you’re hashtag crazy™ is easy; having to admit that you’ve been institutionalized for over 10 years because you have legitimate problems is much harder. (Sure, the VA also gives him a convenient cover from the military police, but if that was the only reason for him to stay he wouldn’t react to Kelly’s question in this way). “It’s a long story”, is all he says. There are clearly some painful memories here that he’d rather not delve into.

He’d have to explain how he got committed in the first place. We know that after the gang was arrested for war crimes in ‘71, Murdock was still serving as a pilot in ‘72. They never clarified when and how Murdock was sent home, but i’m guessing without his only friends around and it being, you know...war, his mental health eventually deteriorated until he received a medical discharge straight into the VA hospital.

After Murdock gets wrongly released in season 1, instead of his friends being worried about his supposed cover getting blown they just shrug it off and go ‘Oh well!’ (This could all be due to the show’s inconsistent writing, but you know)

No longer being an inpatient would finally allow Murdock to be employed as a pilot again (his #1 passion), and yet he seems really disheartened about the situation. Even though the hospital gives him no privacy, the staff barely respects him and he spends most of his time there by himself, he still prefers to stay.

For a character who’s allegedly cheery comic relief, he sure gets his feelings hurt alot, mainly when dealing with other people’s ableism towards him. B.A. and Face are obviously just palling around, just guys bein’ dudes, they don’t want to hurt Murdock for real, they probably don’t realize how sensitive Murdock is about the subject. Usually he plays along or shrugs it off, but sometimes he gets genuinely upset. In the first half of In Plane Sight he’s so fed up with it he tries to ‘‘act normal’‘ until #Woke #Queen Hannibal reassures him that they love him the way he is.

PTSD was barely starting to become a diagnosis when the show first aired, but I think it’s fair to say he suffers from it. The pilot episode states that he has anxiety, paranoia and memory loss, so that checks out.

With PTSD you don’t just have to deal with flashbacks and nightmares, but also intrusive thoughts, images and memories about your trauma. Murdock copes with it by getting hyperfixated on a new activity or pretending he’s someone else. This is were alot of people will go ‘‘haha wow look how wacky and insane he is! He’s talking to his sock 😂’‘. But Murdock knows it’s all made up nonsense, he just needs his mind to focus on something else. What’s important here is that he never lets his coping mechanisms distract him when he’s flying, first of all he’s already focused and also he doesn’t wanna crash (lol). There’s a believability to his actions that’s missing in the 2010 reboot.

In the episode where the gang helps out the vietnamese cook from the POW camp where they’ve been tortured, Murdock tries to distract himself with some golfballs. He soon starts projecting his trauma on them however.

I think this is the only time in the show where Hannibal tears up, so this scene is kinda significant. As the leader, he probably blames himself for getting his team captured and tortured, and seeing that Murdock is still so strongly affected by it gotta hurt.

Compared to the rest of the gang, Murdock’s alot more fucked up over the war. There are subtle changes in his voice whenever he talks about it. In the ep about their old war buddy Ray, Face was reminiscing about how cool of a guy Ray was for borrowing him his helmet, Murdock’s memories meanwhile are much less upbeat. ‘My bird was the only one left in the sky’ he remembers while we see an image of a field filled with shot down helicopters. His experiences are bound to be different from the other three as a huey medevac pilot. Murdock did have one off-screen breakdown in the present timeline, after collecting every newspaper article about the upcoming execution of the team in Firing Line. Apparently it was bad enough that he had to be restrained. It’s been 10 years, so he’s recovering and getting better, but he’s still not all there yet.

Everyone knows Murdock’s just messing around when he’s being interrogated by the military about his connections to the team, but like what about when the military isn’t there; or NO ONE is. He often talks to himself or just puts weird shit in his mouth for no reason while nobody’s paying attention to him (eating leaves, paint, an entire raw egg, a frozen sandwich). Sometimes he’s just unhinged like that.

Another thing that’s brought up a few times in the show is his anxiety. Murdock’s often seen being generally tense, sweaty, uncomfortable or reflective in the background of a scene. (I have no idea if this was a deliberate acting choice but Dwight does have anxiety irl so who knows if that had anything to do with it, I mean who knowsssssss, i’m just observing)

He’s got a habit of fidgeting with his hands or touching his neck when he’s stressed out. Murdock also does it when he’s telling his psychiatrist Dr. Richter about his dreams “If you were me, wouldn’t you be terrified to put your head down?” he asks him.

Richter isn’t really paying attention though, because he’s so used to Murdock’s non-stop clownery, he can’t exactly tell when his patient decides to be honest about his feelings for once. He just replies ‘Well only if it was a bad dream’. Which really irritates Murdock because what other dreams besides bad would he have? So he derails the session by rambling some made up bullshit on purpose.

Richter knows that Murdock uses humor and fantasy to cope, but he’s obviously tired of Murdock’s cringe antics, he just wants to help him. But Murdock doesn’t like to open up and be confronted with his traumas again, he just wants to avoid talking about it all together. There are still parts of reality that Murdock’s not ready to deal with, or he wouldn’t always retreat into his fantasies.

Before he can continue messing around a helicopter passes by and Murdock freezes for a second. Richter assures him that the helicopter is real; Murdock nods and starts fidgeting with his hands again, seemingly in deep thought. We know from the season 4 finale that he hears the sound of rotor blades when he dissociates. He was definitely being sincere here.

After getting drugged by some military goons he has a few brief flashbacks (feat. cheesy 80′s neon filters): seeing the chopper fly away, getting stuck in a potted plant as if he was walking through the jungle, being surrounded by heavy smoke and sparks from the burning carpet).

Despite being the 2nd highest ranked team member, Murdock dislikes being in charge and gets severly distressed when anything goes wrong that he might even be slightly responsible for. Most notably is the episode where the owners of the diner get kidnapped after Murdock got knocked out by evil cowboys or hill billies or whatever they were. Instead of telling anyone what happened, he’s just lying on the floor, repeatedly calling himself a failure until the others show up.

Seems like Murdock gets startled more easily than the rest of the crew as well. We often see him flinch when guns go off; one time he literally wore fluffy ear muffs to a backalley shootout.

This short moment from Family Reunion always stood out to me. Face opens the van door a little too quickly and it takes Murdock so off-guard he has to take deep breaths to calm down.

Murdock sounds exhausted when he has to remind Face not to sneak up on him. Face also realizes he messed up, he just wanted to check up on Murdock and not trigger him on accident.

When it comes to portrayals of mental illness in fiction there’s obviously better representation out there than Murdock. But sometimes you just wanna see a mentally ill character have a good time instead of being miserable 24/7. And Murdock’s already got the worst behind him, he’s had therapy for years and friends who love him. I just think that’s refreshing to see, especially with a character who’s so kind and openly affectionate.

#the a team #hm murdock #howling mad murdock #mental illness #dwight schultz #meta #out here being corny at 2am #ptsd

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asian-hero · 4 years

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The Tempest King and his Maid (1)

A/N: So, it’s been a while since I’ve posted an actual story, huh? Sorry about that, I’ve been both in a serious writers block and in a funk about whether or not my writing is actually good. But, I digress, here’s the first part of the Dimitri/Maid!Reader fic that I posted a couple months back, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After running away from your father in the Adrestian Empire and your mother dying, you found yourself stealing in order to keep yourself alive. However, your fate seems to change when a kind angel dressed in the Kingdom’s maid attire extends her hand.

Words: 7,536

The first time you’ve seen snow was at the border leading to the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus from the Adrestian Empire. At the young age of four, you and your mother had fled the empire to seek a better life within the cold walls of the kingdom after your father had used you as a bartering chip to earn quick money. Before you could even grasp the concept of complete sentences and coherent thoughts, you knew to never trust anyone, and that everyone would want something of you eventually, no matter how sweetly the words were twisted.

From ages four to eight you lived most of your life in a tavern, silently watching your mother work as a bar wench, serving less-than-savory customers who’d slur advances towards her, under the guise of drunkenness. It was here which you learned how quickly supposed “secrets” could be so easily bought with a swig of alcohol, and how simple it was to take from a drunk. The first time you stole was when a man got too close to your mother. Per usual, she’d rejected any advances made at her, simply stating she was here to do her job. One man in particular was unhappy about it, and rather than accepting rejection in a dignified manner, forcefully grabbed her arm and berated her in front of the entire bar. It was clear to anyone in a five mile radius that he was extremely drunk and wasn’t in complete control of his actions, but that didn’t stop the hot tears from prickling at your mother’s eyes, or the slight tremble of her lip. As a young lady of seven, you’d never felt as much rage in your small frame as you had witnessing a complete stranger speak to your mother as if she were an idiot. So as the man had been pulled away from her, you quietly swooped in, grabbing the poorly placed sack of coins from his belt and shrinking away to behind the counter. When the man was finally leaving to pay, he was confused to find his money missing and, with a blanched face, meekly left the tavern, but not before being confronted by the owner. You never saw him again after that.

When you and your mother had finally retired for the night you gleefully showed her your spoils. Instead of seeing her kind smile, you were met with a tired sigh and a deep frown. Kneeling down to meet your eyes, she told you it wasn’t right to take from anyone without asking.

“No matter what’s happened, it’s never okay to steal, even if you feel it’s rightly yours.”

After that, you apologized, agreeing to never steal again.

That was, until age ten.

The winter’s in Faerghus were unbearable, even if you were better off. So, for the poor, winter’s were horrendous. There was enough snow to make it up to your knees, and in those few patches where snow wasn’t, ice made sure to form. Although your body wasn’t used to the bitter cold, you could deal with it. The slight heat from your small fireplace had made it bearable, not comfortable, but bearable. Your mother, however, could not handle it. No matter how many logs you put in the fireplace, or however many blankets you threw across her small frame, she fell ill, and with no money to pay for a decent healer, she’d soon met her fate. You were sure that the Goddess had shunned you, as spring had came the next day, with the sun finally peaking through the windows, casting a warm glow on a rather dreary sight. You never did get to give your mother a proper burial, and you hoped that she would forgive you for that.

———

You hoped that your mother would forgive your for many things after her death. For the next few years, you would steal anything you could to survive. Some nights you only ate one small loaf, while on others you could snag a few apples along with the mix. You also found abandoned homes to sleep in, shielding you from the cold of the night. It wasn’t your preferred way of living, but it kept you alive, and the Goddess be damned if you died without fighting Death themself.

Things were starting to look up when you’d bumped into a castle maid at the market at age twelve. By this time you’d grown from stealing food to valuables that could earn you a profit from selling them. The market was the perfect space for you, as it was crowded enough where no one would catch you, but not so much to where you couldn’t see where you were going. As you were walking through the market, you noticed a rather frail woman walking through, wearing a uniform issued from the royal family of Fhirdiad. Where she came from didn’t interest you as much as the golden emblem that was attached to her skirt, you could practically see the coins piling into your hands from the profit you’d make from it. Quietly, you approached the maid, making sure to not seem too suspicious, and when you finally approached her, you reached out for the emblem and tugged.

Unfortunately for you, the emblem was secured rather tightly onto the dress, which caught you off guard. So there you stood, with one hand wrapped around the maid’s emblem, tugging at her skirt, trying to not make eye contact. Before you could release it and run, you felt a soft touch on your shoulder. Steeling yourself, you meekly looked up at the older woman, who, rather than glaring down at you, was smiling. Gently, she pried your hand from her skirt and kneeled down to meet your eyes.

“What’s a girl like you doing running all by yourself?”

You didn’t respond, frozen from fear the maid would report you. When you didn’t speak up, the woman sighed, taking in your stillness.

“I’m not going to report you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she glanced around the market, a curious look forming, “Where are your parents?”

When you looked down at the ground with a frown, she understood. With a contemplating look on her face, the woman stood up and reached toward you with an open hand. You looked back up at her quizzically. She only smiled.

“Come along then, little one. Let’s finish our shopping and get back to the castle.”

You must’ve looked horrified when she spoke because shortly after she laughed, a wondrous sound that reminded you of your mother. “I already said I’m not going to report you, but I refuse to let you stay here any longer.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, you slowly reached for her hand, squeezing it. You allowed yourself to be tugged along, listening to the older lady ramble on about what items she needed to grab, why she needed it, and why she was shopping in the outskirts of Fhirdiad. When the both of you were finally leaving the market and heading towards the castle, you finally spoke:

“Why?”

She looked back towards you, a pleasant smile on her face. “Hmm?”

“Why are you helping me?”

She seemed caught off guard for a moment, before knelling down once again, brushing away stands of hair from your face.

“Every child deserves chance at life, so why would I take that away from you?”

And that was the end of that.

———

Once you had finally arrived at the castle, the maid, whom you’d learned was named Lucy, led you to the servant’s quarters, where she walked you to her quarter’s and told you to stay while she went to speak to the head mistress. Left to your own devices, you wandered around her room, looking at the minimal decor she had. Walking towards her bed, your hands wandered across the bed spread, admiring how soft the blankets were, and how durable they’d be during the cold winter months. Hoisting yourself up, you sat on top of the bed, your feet dangling from beneath you. You took in your surroundings, the softness from beneath you, the warmth that filled the room, and the smell of freshly bloomed flowers that wafted in from Goddess knows where. It was much nicer than any place you stayed, but that wasn’t really saying much, since you slept just about anywhere that’d keep you safe for the night.

A few moments turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and soon enough, you couldn’t fight off the sweet embrace of sleep that had begun to creep upon you. Slowly, you laid down on the bed, curling into a ball to make yourself as small as possible, and drifted off to sleep.

You didn’t know how long you slept, or whether anything you had just experienced was a dream, however when you woke up a thick blue blanket was thrown across your frame, and your head was positioned to lay on the pillow above you. Blearily blinking the sleep from your eyes, you lifted your head up, noting the lit candle sitting on the table beside you.

“Ah, you’re awake. Did you sleep well?”

Your head whipped toward the sound, taking comfort when faced with Lucy, the dear maid who brought you here. Calming yourself, you nodded your head, moving to sit up. She hummed softly, her features exuding a motherly aura. “Well, I spoke to the head mistress, and I believe that we can make some room for you to stay here, with us.”

A wave of excitement rushed through your body, and Lucy could probably tell from the way you gasped slightly, with your hands tightly bunching the blue blanket together and the way your face grew hopeful. You could see the crinkles form at the corners of her eyes, but before you could relay any of your gratitude, she spoke:

“However, there is a catch,” She held her breath for a moment before continuing, “If you’re to stay here, then you must also help around the castle.”

You felt the excitement from before begin to simmer. It wasn’t that you weren’t willing to help around the castle, in fact, you knew that there’d be a trade off in order for you to stay. But you didn’t know even know how to properly clean a house, let alone a castle made for the royal family.

As if sensing your worries, Lucy placed a hand over yours, lending you some comfort. “Do not worry, we’ll teach you all you need to know about serving the Kingdom.”

Although her words gave you seldom comfort in your abilities, you could only nod in agreement, if only to give yourself a second chance at life.

———

After the first year of serving as a maid for the royal family of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus you had adapted fairly well, or, to your dear Lucy, exceedingly well considering the circumstances.

You’d learned the secret art of correctly polishing any decorative pieces, making them rival the shine of the stars in the night sky. You also learned, but had not yet practiced due to your limited time being there, how to properly set the table for the Blaiddyd family, and how to serve any meal with efficiency and poise. Along with this, Lucy had taught you how to read and write, stating that everyone needed to learn someday. However, the most wonderful treat to the other maids and butlers was the way you were able to quickly mend broken weapons and make them almost as good as new. It wasn’t a skill you thought would be put to use within the safety of the castle, but it proved to be quite useful.

The first time your skill had been put to use was when Lucy was giving you a tour of all the unrestricted areas within the castle. You two had finally reached the training grounds, which she told you to be cautious when walking around there. When you had turned the corner, a fragment of a training lance hit you square in the face. Blinking, you raised one hand to cover your forehead, while the other went to go and retrieve the broken piece from the ground. You couldn’t even get a word out before you were bombarded by noise.

“Oh dear, are you alright?” Lucy’s voice cut through the commotion, her hand coming down to caress your head.

You nodded your head, smiling slightly, before noticing four other children hesitantly coming closer. The first one, a boy with long blonde hair, whom you recognized as Prince Dimitri, seemed to look the most guilty, along with the raven haired boy next to him. The third child, a blonde girl, who could pass for the prince’s sister if not for her striking green eyes followed close behind, a scowl on her face. The fourth child looked slightly older than the rest, his fiery red hair flopping about as he bounced from one foot to the next, a nervous tick.

“Are you okay?” The prince asked, genuine worry etched into his face.

The second boy scoffed, but you could tell he felt guilt as well, “It’s not like the pointy end got her,”

The blonde girl seemed furious after that statement, moving to pinch both boys. “Felix, don’t be so rude, and Dimitri, you need to learn to control your strength!”

The older boy sighed, but there was a ghost of a smile gracing his features. “Don’t be so harsh, Ingrid, they were just practicing,”

Ingrid whipped around, her fury directed toward him. “Sylvain—“

“I’m alright.” You interrupted, not wanting to prolong the fighting any longer than it needed to.

As if remembering something, you froze in your spot, before bowing politely towards the prince. It was one of the first things you were taught, to always show respect towards the royal family. Once you finally stood, you shifted your facial features to become more pleasant.

“If you’d like, I could fix that for you,” You stated quietly, holding out your piece of the broken lance and then pointing to the broken one in the prince’s hands.

The group silenced after that, looking towards you, then the lance, and then back to you. With a sheepish look, Dimitri held out the remains of his training lance.

“That would be wonderful, father would be disappointed if her knew I broke another one so quickly,”

You took the remaining pieces and bowed your head before silently returning to Lucy’s side, asking her to bring you back to the maid’s quarters so you could have a head start to your first project.

Within two days, the wooden training lance was put back on the weapons shelf, sporting a new bandage around the middle where it split. Although it seemed perilous, the repair proved to be worth it, as it only broke when handled by Prince Dimitri, who still needed to learn to control his strength.

Months later, you were still repairing weapons destroyed by the prince, although instead of wooden ones, they were soon replaced by iron. Still, your repairs were unmatched, and it was a rather good investment for the Kingdom, who only need to buy half of what they used to in replacements. However complacent you were in repairing lance after lance, you couldn’t help but wonder how inept the prince was if he was continuously breaking weapons like this. Wooden ones you could understand, but iron? He was no older than you, and you knew it took much longer for you to break wood, let alone iron.

Eventually, you grew a distain for repairing weapons, and a slight distain for the prince himself. Not that you’d tell anyone, but his repeated offensives were starting to irritate you, and although you weren’t expected anything in return, you at least would appreciate an apology for breaking so many weapons within a month. Of course, you knew better than to hold your breath for one, so instead you stayed complacent, mending the broken weapons in a continuous cycle.

Once you had finished your mending for the day, you walked yourself over to the training grounds, taking extra care to not drop any of them. You quickly went to the weapon’s rack and started to arrange them accordingly. Just as you were about to leave you heard loud chatter coming from the hall.

From around the corner came Prince Dimitri and his friend, Felix, seemingly in an engaging conversation. Once the two noticed you they came to a halt, their conversation paused. Bowing, your eyes met with the prince’s feet.

“Your Highness, I’ve fixed your lance,” standing up to your full height, you nodded your head in acknowledgement, “I will be taking my leave.”

As you left you could hear the prince and his friend mumbling about something, but you couldn’t be bothered to eavesdrop.

You were barely out of the training grounds when you heard the familiar snapping of iron, along with a quiet “oh goddess.” Sighing, you rubbed your face, groaning lightly. With growing annoyance, you turned around and walked back into the training room. You were met with the embarrassed face of the prince and the thinly veiled amusement of his friend, trying his hardest to not laugh at him. Gently, you took the broken weapon from his hands, not meeting his gaze.

“Apologies, your majesty. I should’ve made sure this lance was sturdy enough, I’ll have this repaired in a couple days.”

With that, you bowed once more, before leaving again.

You truly couldn’t fathom how strong and boorish the young prince was, and it was a thought that both annoyed and intrigued you.

———

A week later the iron lance was back in action and you were back to your regular duties. You mostly worked in the laundry room, as it was one of the least desirable jobs to do, and as the newest member you did any job that no one wanted to do.

It wasn’t the worst job, in fact, you rather enjoyed it. You were able to work by yourself, with no one else bothering you, especially the nobles. Now, you didn’t have a problem with them, per se, but you couldn’t understand how some of them could be so rude to the people who serve them. For all they knew, you could kill them in an instant, whether it be poison in their soups or smothering their faces with a pillow when you came to wake them in the morning. You knew it was awful for you to think this way, but you couldn’t help it, so it was probably good for both you and the general public that you were assigned to laundry duty.

It had taken you nearly three hours to finish washing and drying all the servants uniforms. By the time you’d finished your hands had pruned up and small cuts were embedded in your fingertips. Unfortunately for you, the time in-between laundry duty and supper was slight, meaning that you usually didn’t have a lot of time to change your clothes. Rushing down the halls, you hoped you’d make it to supper on time, but you knew it’d be a close call.

Before you turned the corner to your quarters, you heard a few familiar voices:

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea to sneak in here, we could be in big trouble if we’re found out.” Felix.

A loud slap could be heard reverberating against the walls, presumably from a clap on the shoulder. “No one’s going to find out, and if anyone saw us, we have Dimitri with us, remember?” Sylvain.

The prince didn’t even have a chance to respond, as you stepped out from your “hiding” space.

“Your Highness?”

The young blonde seemed to jump out of his skin. Turning towards you, you noticed the rather sheepish look on his face. Your gaze dropping a bit lower, you noticed a small white box in his hands. Shifting your gaze to your right, you noticed Sylvain holding a bundle of flowers. Lily of the valley, perhaps? Tilting your head to the side, you focused your attention back to the prince.

“Is there anything I can help you with, my lord?”

“Ah,” He spoke, seemingly caught off guard, “Well, there’s one thing,”

You waited patiently, or, as patiently as you could, as you knew you were already late to supper. Prince Dimitri took at few steps toward you before extending his arms out, the white box in front of you. You looked down at the box, then back at the prince, who seemed to be grasping for words.

“This is for you,” As if remembering something, he turned around and grabbed the flowers from Sylvain’s hold, “And these as well!”

Cautiously, you took the box and flowers out of the prince’s hands. “May I ask what occasion?”

“As a thank you, for repairing so many lances for me. I know it must be tiring,”

Putting on a smile, you shook your head. “Not at all, Your Highness. It’s my job, after all,”

The prince seemed skeptical about your answer, but smiled regardless. It was the first time you really saw him smile. You had to admit, it was a rather cute sight, with his golden locks covering a portion of his face, hiding his rosy cheeks and his bashful smile. If you stared too long, you felt you may have been stuck in an entranced state, so you bowed your head, signaling the end of the conversation.

“Thank you very much for the gifts. I’ll take my leave.”

With that, the boys all nodded, heading back towards the main area of the castle, as to not cause any trouble. Looking down at the gifts in front of you, you felt confused. You had thought the prince was a brat, like many of the noble’s you had the unfortunate luck of meeting, but seeing him in front of you, with a bright smile and bright red flush, you couldn’t help but think of him as any other kid. It made you feel slightly guilty to just write him off as inept, without really knowing him. It was also troubling that the prince was rather cute, and you couldn’t deny it.

Deciding to not deal with these thoughts, you rushed into your room and quickly changed, throwing the box and flowers on your bed before running out of the room, in hopes to make it to the end of dinner at least.

You barely made it in time, and Lucy scolded you about overworking yourself, but at least you got to eat.

———

Once you had made it back to your room for the night, you walked over towards your bed, staring down at the small white box that seemed to be looking back up at you. Sitting down, you set the box into your lap, cautiously opening it.

Inside sat a small brooch, seemingly made of silver, and engraved in it was a lion. It was small enough to be inconspicuous, lest you get into trouble with the other maids, but big enough for you to see the lion in its full glory. You reached for the brooch, gently brushing against the face of it, a small smile growing on your lips. Glancing towards your side, you noticed a card sticking out of your flowers. Setting the brooch down, you pulled the note from the flowers, bringing it up to your face to read it:

(Y/N),

Thank you for fixing all the weapons I’ve broken since you’ve been here. I’m sure you have other duties to attend to, but thank you for your help.

I also wanted to apologize for the amount of things I’ve broken. I meant to say it earlier, but I couldn’t get the words out.

I hope you enjoy your gift.

Dimitri

Your fingers absentmindedly dragged across each word, only stopping when you crossed the prince’s name. Eyes wide, you thrusted the note down, feeling your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. You threw the letter on your nightstand, burying yourself within your blanket, hoping to hide away from the growing feeling of, whatever the opposite of contempt may be.

You couldn’t help but think back to the letter, though, and you wondered if you’d been a little harsh in your earlier feelings towards the prince, after all, he was just a kid, such as yourself. Although you’d like it if he didn’t break things as frequently as he did, he was still young, and you couldn’t hold him to such a high standard.

Groaning, you flipped over, your face buried in your pillows. You weren’t having a crisis over the inept but rather sweet prince, no, you just needed some sleep.

There’s no way you’d be thinking about him. Not at all.

———

It was around six in the morning when you felt yourself being shaken. You opened your eyes groggily, trying to shake off your tiredness.

“Wake up, dear, we have to get ready.”

Lucy’s sweet voice was what woke you up. Sitting up, you cocked your head to the side, curiosity overtaking your sleepiness.

“Why?”

Lucy didn’t turn towards you, too occupied with grabbing the cleanest uniform you had from your dresser. “One of the maid’s is sick, so we need someone to cover for breakfast,” she handed you the outfit, a small smile decorating her face, “We figured that since you’ve been training long enough, you should have a go at serving the king and prince for breakfast.”

That certainly got you up. Hopping out of bed, you looked at Lucy with a mortified gaze. She seemed to understand what you were getting at, because she set her hand on your shoulder, a firm but loving gesture. “You’ll be fine, just listen to the head mistress and everything will be okay.”

You hesitantly nodded, still unsure of your abilities but you didn’t want to disappoint her. Once you grabbed your uniform, Lucy gave you one last smile, before leaving you to get dressed. Left to your own devices, you quickly threw on the dress, taking extra time to make sure nothing looked crooked or unkempt. You then pulled your hair back into a bun, making sure that no strand of hair wasn’t unintentionally out of line. It took you about three tries before you were satisfied with the way it looked, and even then you were still worried about getting your hair into their food.

Just as you were about to put on your shoes and run out the door, you noticed something shiny on your nightstand. It was the brooch the prince had given you the day before. Running your fingers over the decorative design, you contemplated on whether or not you should wear it. You would be seeing the prince after all, so maybe you could show your, “forgiveness”, for his habit of breaking weapons.

Before you could go back and forth any further, you heard a knock at the door, followed by Lucy’s soft “Are you ready?” You jumped a bit, startled. Racing out of the room you took the brooch from your nightstand and pinned it above your heart.

You barely remembered to put on your shoes before you hurried to Lucy, who took you to the kitchen, where you were greeted by the staff and then left with the head mistress. She was a kind lady, if not a bit strict. The head mistress, whom you learned to call her “Miss Maria”, had instructed you that you would be helping to set the table and to deliver the food to His Majesty and His Highness when they came down.

Walking over to the table, you began to set the napkins and silverware in the places you’d been taught to put them in. It was practically engraved in your head after how many times you were forced to practice. You were thankful that it was for breakfast, one of the simpler table sets to do.

Once you were finished, you headed back over to Miss Maria to get your next instructions. She had made sure that everything on the table was in order before telling one of the older maids to go and fetch the King and the prince for their breakfast. Glancing back down at you, she nodded her head toward the kitchen. “Go in and get ready to serve, I’ll let you know when to come out.”

Not wanting to disappoint, you walked to the kitchen, politely waving at one of your fellow maid’s to help you with what to grab. Your tray was piled with bread, fruits from various parts of Fodlan, and oats, grown from Faerghus itself. You were rather surprised anything could grow in Faerghus, but you didn’t say anything. Glancing out the small opening, you noticed King Lambert walking in, a warm smile greeting all of the servants. Behind him was Prince Dimitri, who shared a similar smile with his father, although it was much more subtle and, a bit shy.

As soon as they took their seats Miss Maria turned towards you and gave a small nod, signaling you to enter. Holding the tray with both hands, you took a deep breath, before leaving with your partner. You put on a reserved smile, not quite as beaming as the King, nor as small as the Prince’s. Once you reached the table, your companion went first, pouring their drinks for them, then bowing and stepping beside you. You walked over slowly, steadily as you moved to plate their breakfast. First was the King, and although he was an intimidating man, he had a warmth about him that made you feel more at ease. Moving over to the prince, you couldn’t ignore the quiet intake of air that came from him. Glancing up from your duties, you noticed his gaze was on your brooch, perhaps a little shocked that you were actually wearing it. You had to bite the inside of your cheek as to not giggle at the prince’s shocked face.

You bowed as soon as you were finished, walking back to the kitchen with your partner, making sure not to trip and make a fool of yourself on the way back. On your way back you could hear the faint sound of the King and Prince’s conversation, occasionally hearing a booming laugh. When you finally reached the kitchen, you made your way over to the small opening, not necessarily for work, but mainly to look at the royal family. You couldn’t help the faint blush that appeared on your cheeks when you stared at the Prince a little too long. Your companion must’ve noticed, as she walked over to you, a smirk plastered on her face. Clearing her throat, she spoke: “Looking for something?”

You felt your cheeks turn even warmer than you thought possible. Snapping your head towards her, you huffed. “Nothing in particular,”

Your answer only seemed to make her even more smug. “‘Nothing in particular’? Are you sure you weren’t just admiring a certain someone?”

You looked at her as if she’d grown three extra heads.

“Admiring? Who would I even—“

“You were looking at the prince as if you were a lost puppy!” “I was not!” You hissed, wanting to escape this conversation as fast as possible.

The other maid seemed to sense your uncomfortableness, so she relented. But you could still see the hint of a smirk resting on her face for the rest of the morning.

———

You and the rest of the breakfast group had finished cleaning up around ten, allowing you to get back to your duties. For today, your job was to clean the main foyer. That included dusting, mopping, and polishing anything that may need some help. You used to have an extra person to help you, but most of the staff felt you were old enough to handle your tasks on your own. So here you were, all by yourself in a gigantic foyer room that seemed to be mocking you. Shaking your head, you started by dusting off the shelves. You made sure to be extra careful around the precious heirlooms, not wanting to accidentally knock one of them off.

When trying to dust the great, daunting bookshelves, you found yourself to be just a bit short to be able to reach the top. So, in order to compensate for it, you went and grabbed a wooden stool, placing it in front of the shelf. Once you were able to reach the top, you began humming while dusting, hoping that some singing would help to speed up the monotonous process of cleaning.

Unfortunately for you, you hadn’t noticed a certain prince walking up behind you.

“(Y/N), hello!”

A small squeak escaped from your mouth, causing your hand to fly up to your face in a poor attempt to stop the sound. From beneath you, you felt the stool begin to wobble, but before anything could fall, you felt a hand at your back, holding you still as you readjusted yourself. After taking a deep breath, you turned around, only to be face with the prince of Faerghus himself. You felt momentarily stunned for a moment, before collecting yourself enough to give a small bow.

“Your Highness, is there anything I can do for you?”

Prince Dimitri smiled, shaking his head. “No, I just saw you over here and thought I’d say hello,” his face suddenly grew embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shook your hands frantically, your feather duster swaying back and forth. “It’s alright, I should’ve been more attentive.”

He shook his head, but said nothing. As he walked around the room you couldn’t help but grow curious as to why he was here with you, instead of hanging around his friends.

“Why aren’t you spending time with your friends?” Your eyes widened as soon as the words left your mouth. One day your big mouth was going to get you in big trouble.

You didn’t seem to offend the prince, however, as he just smiled sadly at you. “They’ve gone back to their homes,”

A small “ah” fell from your lips, suddenly out of any commentary. You realized how lonely it must be for the prince, with all of his friends gone. There weren’t many others within the castle borders that were the same age as him, aside from yourself, so he must be rather bored whenever he had free time. You almost saw yourself within him, just a lonely kid who wanted human contact.

Swallowing a knot in your throat that you didn’t know was there in the first place, you spoke, “Well, you’re welcome to stay here while I clean,” you trailed off, looking a little unsure, “Although I don’t know how much company I’ll be.”

You swore that you heard him breathe out a sigh of relief, but you didn’t focus too much on the little details. He mumbled out a “thank you” before sitting down on one of the couches. Deciding that you couldn’t handle both cleaning and knowing that the prince was just staring at you, you chose to just focus all of your energy on your task at hand, letting a comfortable silence fill the room.

Once you had finished with the bookshelves, you moved to grab your polishing rags and went to town on the little trinkets that littered the entire room. The thought of starting up a conversation with the prince had crossed your mind, but you didn’t trust your mouth to not say anything inappropriate, so you kept it shut. He didn’t seem to mind either, instead he just opted to watch you as you were cleaning. While it was unnerving, you had to admit that it was nice to have another person with you while you cleaned. It reminded you of your first few weeks of working at the castle, with Lucy watching and making sure that you were doing everything correctly. It was also nice to know that the prince had no idea how things were supposed to be “properly” cleaned, since he wasn’t trained, therefore lifting another weight off of your shoulders.

When you had moved towards the large paintings on the walls, Prince Dimitri seemed to noticed your prolonged staring, as he stood from his seat, walking towards you.

“That’s my mother,” he stated, an unreadable expression on his face.

You looked towards him, then back up at the painting. She was a rather pretty lady, with her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, and her brown eyes that exuded warmth. She almost looked as if she were from one of the fairy tales your mother had told you about when you were younger. Although Dimitri had definitely taken his looks from his father, you could see the same warmth within him as his mother.

“She’s beautiful,” You commented, looking towards the prince, who had a sad, distant look on his face.

“She was,” he started, looking away from the painting, “I’m sure she was even more radiant in person.”

You looked over at him, about to ask him what he meant, before it hit you: his mother had died after he was born. Lucy had told you about it before, mostly to tell you to never mention it, as it wasn’t necessarily public knowledge. Only the castle staff knew about the tragic ending that met the Queen. Before you could let out any consoling words, Prince Dimitri put a smile back on his face, though you could tell it was a bit forced.

“What about you?”

You blinked, confused as to what he meant. He seemed to have caught on, as he continued:

“What about your mother?”

A wave of sadness and guilt rushed through you, as if the mention of her had broken down the wall you built up. Looking to the floor for comfort, you answered.

“She died a few years back,”

When you glanced back up, you could practically see the gears turning in the young prince’s head, grasping at straws for a sufficient answer.

“It’s alright. I’ve grown used to living without her presence, so you don’t—“

A warm hand on your shoulder halted your sentence. You were practically dying internally. Was it alright for the prince to be touching you? After all, you were just the staff and he—

“I’m sorry for your loss,” He started, his blue eyes piercing into you, “I lost my mother before I even knew her, and even after that I had my step-mother, so I can’t imagine how painful it was for you.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, willing your tears to dry up, after all, you had done a damn good job at keeping them away before. “There’s no need to be sorry, Your Highness. It’s apart of life,” You hoped your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

His hand still stayed on your shoulder, and you were sure that if he moved it now you wouldn’t be able to keep yourself as put-together as you were now. Looking up at the ceiling, you closed your eyes, and took a deep breath in.

Finally, you turned to face him, with his hand gently falling off of your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of taken up all of your time like that. You’re welcome to stay, but I must finish my duties.”

Once you had turned back towards the vases you were to polish, you heard the prince’s footsteps retreating back to the sofa, where you heard a soft thud. There was a little part of you that was happy he stayed with you, mainly so you didn’t have to be alone after that talk of your mom. Even though it had been years since she’d passed, you couldn’t help but freeze up whenever you thought of her. You wondered if she would be proud of you, if she’d be proud of the choices you made in life so far.

The rest of your time with the prince was spent in silence, but you were grateful for the company nonetheless.

———

Ever since your little, heart-to-heart with Prince Dimitri in the foyer, he seemed to make himself a permanent fixture in your life. Whenever he’d see you around the castle, doing whatever you were assigned for the day, he’d make his way over to you, a cheerful smile accompanying a friendly “hello”.

You were always courteous with him, not wanting to seem ungrateful for the company. At first, you were rather quiet, not wanting to somehow offend the prince with your words. Silence would fill the air as he sat next to you in silence, while you tending to whatever you needed to do. If you were off to clean and organize the library, he’d be sitting at a desk nearby. If it was your turn to do laundry, although you weren’t sure how he snuck down, he’d be sitting off to the side, seemingly content with just sitting there.

Eventually you got tired of the silence and began asking questions. With his permission, of course. You didn’t want to be kicked out of the castle from just from asking something stupid. It’d range from serious topics such as “how does your crest grant you such super strength?” or “how long have you been practicing with combat weapons?”, to rather silly questions, such as “can you lift that table?”

He was always happy to answer your questions, even if they were a bit ridiculous. You soon grew more and more comfortable around the prince, realizing that he was just like any other kid you met, minus the status, and, well, god-like strength. All he wanted was someone to keep him company, since he was the only child, and his father was always working. Before you even knew what was happening, you started to consider him as a friend, rather than just a royal brat. When you first realized it, it came as a shock. Shocking that your resentment turned into bashfulness and happiness. Although, you knew that you were starting to feel that way the minute you saw him bringing gifts to your room that one day, you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.

As the days went on, you started looking forward to seeing Prince Dimitri. You were excited for the conversations the two of you would share, for what topics you might share with one another. Soon days turned into months, and then before you even knew it, the new year had passed, landing you in 1176, a year that you hoped would be as prosperous as the year before for the royal family. You were quite shocked that the prince still went out of his way to speak to you, even if it was just for a few moments.

However, today was different. The two of you had found each other when you had just finished wrapping up laundry duty for the day. As you were just about to go back to your room to relax for a bit, you heard him call for you. When you turned to ask what he needed, he simply whisked you off for some relaxation and chatting. As you two had approached the balcony you both deemed as “your spot”, you could see a few maids you recognized, tending to the gardens. Although you weren’t one for castle gossip, it was rather fun to talk about which of the staff members you two thought were “secretly in love”. These ladies weren’t susceptible to your little game.

“I think that Helene is in love with Lilith,” You said, a sense of conviction ringing through your voice.

It was known around the entire maid staff that Helene had a soft spot for women. She had a habit of staring just a bit too long at the ladies in King Lambert’s court. Helene also had a habit of stumbling her way in a conversation whenever it came to beautiful women.

Below the balcony, the two of you could see a few maids, who were currently tending to the gardens. One of them was obviously Helene, with her bright blue scarf billowing in the wind. The other two, you were currently arguing on who Helene was in love with.

Prince Dimitri shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “I’m afraid you’re wrong, Lady (Y/N),” He’d taken to calling you that, enjoying the slight rush of heat that grew on your face, “Helene is in love with Delilah.”

You gasped, as if he’d said something sacrilegious. Huffing, you pointing towards the maids. “Your Highness, Helene is standing much closer to Lilith, and she keeps looking at her when she thinks she isn’t watching!”

The prince still shook his head, gesturing to the third maid, who was standing next to Lilith. “She’s trying to look at Delilah, Lilith just happens to be standing there.”

You scoffed, trying your best to keep your laughter contained. How many times had you two argued about something so trivial? You couldn’t keep track, but it sure was a fun way to pass the time.

It was rather unfortunate that this peaceful time couldn’t have lasted longer.

#fire emblem three houses #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri x reader #fe dimitri #Dimitri fire emblem #fire emblem dimitri #fire emblem three houses x reader #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem x reader #fe x reader

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powerovernothing · 4 years

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A winter's wind blows over rooftops, and the surrounding walls of the city of Bruma, and a fresh layer of snow slowly falls over the mountain peaks, and steadily blankets the dirt roads leading into the nearest forests, and upwards towards the temple of Cloud Ruler. And within the protective, hidden walls of one of the Blades oldest fortresses in the province of Cyrodiil, Lucien Lachance can easily feel the growing tension swirling in the air around him, even before it dares to come and darken his doorstep. From where he sits at his desk within his quarters upon the highest level of the temple, he can easily hear the distressing commotion brewing just beneath his feet. He is able to make out the heated words being spoken; the hushed, awkward apologies when a lull finally takes place, and the uncomfortable sighs as one party leaves the room below, and the sound of approaching -- stomping -- footfalls reach his ears, and then pass by his sliding door.

Lowering his quill over his, only partially completed, assignment report, he leans back into his chair and lets out a heavy sigh of his very own.

He had assumed, once he learned of his Silencer's valiant return with the supposed golden armor of Tiber Septim -- or whatever senseless nonsense Jauffre and the Blades prattled on about that he had barely paid any amount of heed to -- that Martin would surely usher Korbin from the main hall, and then tend to any and all injuries he may have sustained during such a difficult journey.

But to be able to clearly hear both of his younger siblings argue with one another from an entire floor above and know that a considerable strain was being formed as he sat and merely did nothing... it was utterly strange to his ears. Strange, and incredibly off putting.

Out of all of them within their chosen family, it was his Silencer and his Light Brother that were the ones who rarely came at odds with each other.

But of course, considering the lives they led, and their given places in the ongoing Crisis, there were bound to be instances where one would disagree with the other, or the occasional moments of wounded pride... but to know that they were actively arguing, and one had now stepped away to place distance between the other... he knew very well that he needed to act.

That he had to do something to end this madness before it was allowed to continue, or worse yet, before it somehow escalated into something far more unbearable.

Rising from his seat, he quickly makes his way out of the room and into the hallway, just in time to see the back of Martin's robing as he disappears into his own chambers and shuts the door behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, curious to know whether or not the youngest would soon to follow along after him to try and make amends for whatever it is that had happened, Lucien does not wait for a proper answer, and simply chooses to follow in Martin's shadow. To try and make sense of the situation they were now -- all three of them -- seemingly trapped within.

Reaching out, he carefully opens the door, and watches as Martin paces in place for several moments, rather oblivious to his presence, and then ultimately settles upon the surface of his bed with a deep groan.

Only when he has quieted, does Lucien dare to breech the silence. "...Is there something you wish to discuss, Septim?" He asks carefully, keeping his voice low and even. "If there is something on your mind, you very well that I am here to listen -- if you shall only let me."

Martin looks up suddenly at his voice, and yet when he realizes that it is only Lucien that has followed after him, he relaxes ever so slightly. Yet even still, the Assassin can clearly see the obvious signs of fatigue, as well as frustration etched deeply over his features.

Martin slowly shakes his head to Lucien's questioning, not at all aware of the fact that concern has spread over his own -- something of which Lucien is quite thankful of.

"No, there is nothing that I wish to discuss, not truly," Martin replies in a somewhat breathless whisper; his hands clutched tightly into white knuckled fists. "It is merely the..."

"--The state of Korbin's injuries that is troubling you?" Lucien interjects; finishing Martin's unspoken thoughts for him from where he had trailed off halfheartedly. "Admittedly, I saw very little before you all but commanded Korbin to march to his room... but from what I did, I do not believe his wounds were at all a cause for great concern. Especially not within your own capable healing hands."

"It is not merely the matter of Korbin being hurt, Lucien," Martin says with a shrug as he pulls himself up from his bedside and returns to his prior pacing as he seeks to somehow make his brother understand. "While yes, it is indeed partially to blame for my current state of being, it is more so everything else that has happened that is causing me such grief."

Lucien raises an eyebrow to his words. "Everything else?" He repeats curiously. Making his way into the room at last, he holds out his hands to Martin, and considers whether he should allow his brother to continue pacing about almost unending, or simply force him to stop in place and actually focus.

"Whatever do you mean by that?"

In the end, Lucien does not have a chance to make either choice, as Martin comes to stop in the middle of the room himself.

"...Would you not rather see how Korbin is fairing, Lucien?" Martin mutters through a quiet, almost saddened whisper that catches Lucien by surprise; his face intentionally hidden from his brother as he speaks. "After all, I am certain he would value your presence at his side, and it would be far better use of your time than simply staying here, and listening to my irrational ramblings..."

Lucien lightly scoffs and walks forward to place a gentle hand over Martin's shoulder. "You know very well that I would not have asked if something was amiss, if I did not wish to ease the weight upon your shoulders," He tells him with a faint grin over his lips, and waits until Martin actively turns to glance at him, before speaking once more.

"Thus, with that in mind, I do believe you should take this opportunity to explain to me what it is that seems to be frustrating you so"--Lucien turns on his heel, and points a finger as sets upon the edge of the bed where Martin once was--"And I do hope you shall be nothing but completely honest, and spare no details from me."

Martin watches as Lucien leaves his side and takes his place on the bed. As he does, Martin's shoulders slump, and he runs a heavy hand over his face with a grumbled breath.

"...By the Divines themselves, I do not know where to even begin..."

"I believe you have already answered your own question, Martin. Begin, of course, with the beginning, so that I may understand the source of such emotion and hope to somehow spare you any further irritation."

Martin barks an almost bitter laugh in response. "As such such a thing is so easy!" Another sigh then escapes him, and a hand rises to rub over his temple. "...But, very well. Perhaps the source of all of this is because of the mere fact that, time and again, our brother willingly ventures out on these precarious, even life-threatening assignments, and denies -- or even outright refuses -- aid of any kind!"

Lucien watches as Martin fumes -- and quite literally at that, as the Assassin notices genuine smoke beginning to rise off the Septim Heir's shoulders the more he loses himself to the call of his pent-up anger -- and chooses to remain respectfully silent.

Knowing all too well that near to anything that he sought to say in such a moment would only fuel his brother's blazing fire, instead of dousing it as Lucien would actually want. And so, he sits, and waits, and listens, and simply hopes that such flames will dissipate with time as Martin continues to work through his ire.

"You know as well as I that he all but forbids you, of all people, from accompanying him," Martin explains as he circles around the bed, and back again several times in a row. "Somehow under the foolish assumption that you would be better suited at my side, protecting me from every known threat than at his own in the field of battle!"

He pauses, and then turns to speak to Lucien directly as a deep red flush in his cheeks. "Does he not realize that here, in the Bruma mountains, I am at my safest? What possible threat is there to be concerned over, other than a scratch occurring in training, or falling asleep at my desk at strange hours of the night due to research?" A familiar sadness overtakes his words. "What truly frightens him so that we could not somehow face it together?"

Lucien sighs, as he listens intently to every word that Martin speaks, and slowly comes to the realization that not only is what he is saying undoubtedly the truth -- as his Silencer had indeed acted in such a way in regards to the self-proclaimed 'solo missions' that he had taken upon himself even before this hunt for some sort of 'holy relic of Septim's long past', and been a cause of great concern every time he all but slammed the door in his face on his way out of the temple in a near frantic rush -- but that he also readily agrees with every word just as well.

There had been countless times that Korbin's obvious lack of self-preservation had made his heart ache with deep pain whensoever he teetered on the edge of death itself upon coming back to their makeshift home, and while he knew very well that Martin surely felt the same at the unimaginable thought of losing Korbin -- especially to this damnable Crisis -- he would have never realized that his brother's emotions would have ran so deep, or felt so incredibly similar to his own thoughts on the matter.

"And to see him return to us... bruised, battered, and half alive," Martin continues on; resisting the growing urge to reach for his locks of auburn hair, and run his fingers through it as his emotions rage. "And worse yet! Knowing that he shall always play off such horrific injuries with an ill-timed joke, as if his suffering does not matter..."

Lucien watches as Martin wraps his arms around himself. "As if, somehow, he himself, matters so much less than the task at hand. That he believes the supposed mission is the only thing that is truly important... not at all understanding that each time he does such a thing, each time that he believes as much... that it slowly breaks us in two, and... and..."

As Martin words trail, and his feelings threaten to engulf him completely, Lucien slowly reaches out and grasps his closest hand in an attempt to ground him, and comfort his brother somehow...and yet, even despite the open show of affection, Martin backs away from his offered touch, and willingly succumbs to the overpowering waves surrounding his heart.

"And that is not what destroys me the most out of all of this," He manages through a painful breath; tears filling in the corners of his eyes. "It is in the understanding that makes this so utterly unbearable. Realizing that the only reason he does this... that he does any of this -- putting himself at risk, braving the depths of the worst Oblivion has to offer to the world, shrugging off every wound with a lighthearted smile, and reassurance that he should not even be speaking, when it is us that should be comforting him in such an aftermath -- is because--"

"--Because you require numerous items so that you might finally translates that deplorable Daedric book you keep within your possession, and open the Portal to those Mythic Dawn bastard's Paradise," Lucien suddenly interrupts; speaking for the first time he placed himself upon the bed, and catching Martin considerably off guard in the process.

"Is that not what you were just about to say, my brother?" He prompts somewhat carefully. "That what makes this hardest is knowing that Korbin is, essentially, doing all of this on your behalf? That he persists despite the obvious risk to his life, that he dares to venture into those fiery depths, time and again, paying no need to our worried outcries, and simply follows your every task with a smile... because he knows how important this crusade is to you, as well as how important ending the Crisis is for us, and many others?"

Lucien pauses as his words hang in the air, and then softens his tone of voice. "Is that, truly, what is bothering you the most out of all of this?"

The air in the room falls stagnant as Lucien speaks his peace. The only sound to be heard being the occasional breaths from either of the brothers, and the familiar thumping of approaching footsteps. At such a noise, Lucien grimaces inwardly; knowing that any interruptions at this point would do just as much damage as if he had thought to speak up before Martin reached the conclusion to all his rambling.

It would only cause more damage, and possibly even throw Martin further into his own fragile mind, and Lucien genuinely worries for his Light Brother's wellbeing if such a thing were to come to pass.

And yet, before he has an opportunity to prepare an angry, furious string of words for whatever nonsense Jauffre or his foolish Blades would want from Martin -- now, of all Sithis-cursed times -- it is, in fact, Martin's own voice that pulls him from his thoughts, and back into the moment at hand.

"...You are right; you are absolutely right," He says; answering Lucien's previous question. His words are spoken quietly at first, and Lucien opens his mouth to soothe him, but is soon silenced as Martin's voice shifts, and his words turn to almost frantic shouting.

"That is what makes this so hard, and by the grace of Akatosh, if there was some other way -- any other way, so that he might simply remain safe, without willingly following my word without question, without daring to dance with death with every battle fought with the Mythic Dawn and Oblivion itself, without any of this nightmare resting upon our shoulders every time he leaves our side -- then you know I would do it in less than a single heartbeat!"

Martin gestures wildly as tears begin to spill down his cheeks. "Because knowing that I am the one sending him out into danger, knowing that I am putting him at risk at all... you simply do not understand the sheer extent of the horrors I face in my own mind, as I mull over every possible what if, Lucien!"

"Oh, my dear brother, I do understand," Lucien explains to him, grasping onto the brief silence and readily filling it as Martin reaches to wipe at the tears in his eyes. "I understand more than you might realize, for such unbelievable horrors linger within my own mind every moment that passes by and he has not returned to me from some task I appointed to him just as well."

"Then you surely know how often I am brought to my knees by the endless wondering!" Martin cries out; his fingers intertwining together, as his hands tremble. "Wondering just how much more he is capable of enduring until it becomes too much for his body and spirit to bear! Terrified in wondering if the very next time I ask of him something, even the simplest, most innocent task, he is too gravely injured for me to save his life before he fades completely. Or, the one thing that utterly shatters me, the thought of him not returning at all, and having to live with the heartbreaking guilt in knowing that I sent my very own little brother to his dea --"

Martin’s words are suddenly cut off, as he begins to waver slightly on his feet partway through his unfinished, near hysterical screaming. And in that same instant, Lucien is quickly at his side; attempting to keep him from stumbling down to the hardwood floor below them in a collective heap.

"By the Dread Father himself, Martin! Are you all right?!" Lucien hisses; one hand around Martin's shoulders, as the other latches tightly onto his nearest wrist. "Come here and sit at once, before you collapse."

Martin shakes his head in response; trying -- to absolutely no avail -- to somehow pry himself out of Lucien's iron-clad grip. "N-No... no, brother, I am--" He struggles to explain; his face paling from the mere effort of speaking. "I am... all right. I simply--"

"Do not think to lie to me, Septim," Lucien warns through a harsh whisper, as he leads him back to the bedside. "I have never witnessed you in such a state, and if your health is being compromised in the same way as Korbin's, then you shall--"

"--If you simply allow me to explain," Martin quickly, or as quickly as he can manage, interrupts Lucien’s words. Finally pulling himself free of his grasp at last and being rewarded with a furious glare in return. "Then I could tell you this is only the result of expending far too much power while healing our brother's wounds, and nothing more."

Lucien's glare turns to genuine bewilderment. "...What are you talking about?" He asks; only to then growl under his breath as he, once again, hears the sound of approaching footfalls edging just outside Martin's door... that soon shifts to worry as he comes to recognize such familiar steps, and realizes that they did not belong to neither Blade nor Grandmaster.

A bead of sweat falls down his face, and he quickly flickers a look of concern towards Martin. In the hopes that he would somehow notice and stop himself before speaking anything further.

Unfortunately, it goes completely unseen. "Such a thing is actually quite the common occurrence whenever I choose to summon forth my inner Light to heal Korbin of his injuries, Lucien," Martin begins to explain; blissfully unaware of Lucien's sudden change, or the sound directly behind him.

"Especially so when they are as grave as the ones he earned after returning from the excursion within Sancre Tor. It is a considerably draining feat, and one of the many reasons why you have not seen me like this before now -- as I do my very best to shield if from your eyes, as well as his -- and why I speak truly when I say that it is no cause for any concern."

"Ma-Martin, that is quite enough..." Lucien struggles to halt Martin's unneeded explanation; desperate to stop him before he can say the wrong word that the wrong ears may hear by mistake, and cause an already impossibly difficult situation to obtain irrefutable damage on top of everything else. "I... do believe that you should--"

And yet, much like his concerned look, his pleading falls completely upon deaf ears as Martin feels determined to soothe -- what he simply believes to be -- Lucien's worry for his own wellbeing.

"I realize this can be quite shocking at first, but it is really nothing to trouble yourself with," He says with a faint smile. "As you can so clearly see, I am already feeling far better, and the only reason you saw me in such a state to begin with is because caring for Korbin in moments such as this... well, it can be so incredibly tiring at times."

The sudden sound of a harsh slap resounds and echoes throughout the room as Lucien's palm connects painfully with his forehead upon hearing what it is that Martin so foolishly chose to say -- in this moment, of all possible moments -- and acting as though he had somehow accomplished a good deed in the process.

Breathing through his frustration, he runs a careful a hand over his face in an attempt to compose himself, but when his eyes open and he notices the one who now stands in the frame of the sliding door... his prior frustration at Martin's sheer ignorance becomes a more genuine rage.

"...Martin, you absolute imbecile!" Lucien cries out; allowing himself to fall into his own waves of anger and caring very little for what Martin may think of what he speaks, or how. "You would do well to silence yourself at once, before you say anything more that would destroy--"

"--Silence myself?" Martin repeats as confusion overtakes his eyes. "Why do you wish for me to be silent, now of all times? Did you not ask me to be honest with you from the very beginning? To hide nothing so that you might somehow ease the burden from my shoulders? And that is precisely what I have been doing! Explaining to you everything that I feel, as well as attempting to reassure you so that you will not worry about my wellbeing as you would Korbin's!"

"Yes, Martin, I realize that, and I did indeed ask of you to say all of that and more, yet--"

"--And now, somehow, you are upset with the words that I am telling you?" Martin promptly cuts Lucien off before he can complete his sentence. "To the point that you wish for me to... what? Simply stand around, and do nothing? To say nothing?"

He crosses his arms over his chest, and sighs deeply. "Lachance, please... I know this evening has been difficult for all of us, but you must somehow make up your mind, and explain to me what it is you actually want, as I surely have no possible idea what--"

One of Lucien's hands come to cup over Martin's lips, and a deep red blaze in the Assassin's dark gaze. "Dammit, Septim, that is not at all the point here!" He shouts; attempting to pull Martin away from the door, and back towards the bed. "It is not as though I wish for you to be silent in regards to what you are feeling on the matter which came before, it is simply that you have lost yourself to your own uncontrollable emotions, and you do not realize the extent of the damage you are doing because of them!"

"Uncontrollable emotions?!" Martin quickly pulls out of Lucien's grasp; stumbling slightly and staring at him with a flash of hurt. "So now my emotions are somehow uncontrollable? I thought you wished to help me, brother! That you wished to know the reason why I was so upset with what transpired between myself and Korbin. Why I was brought close to my limit with the choices he made while locating the armor of Tiber Septim! Yet, now you have begun to personally insult me for how I am feeling?!"

Lucien claps his hands together, and his words return to their desperate tone of voice. "Martin, you do not understand!" He exclaims almost frantically. "If for once in your life, you will only listen to me when I am speaking to you, then you will surely come to realize--"

"I will realize what, Lucien!? That I will come to realize what?!"

Lucien sighs deeply, somewhat saddened, and sidesteps away from Martin; gesturing towards the open door. "...That you would then come to realize that we are, in fact, not alone."

Martin pauses at Lucien's strangely emotional words, hardly expecting such a thing after his show of remarkable anger, and slowly adjusts his gaze to where he had gestured over his shoulder.

Mentally wondering to himself just what in all of the Divines themselves his brother may have have meant by not being alone, and if one of the Blades had somehow rushed into the room in the midst of their heated argument. Fearful for their lives at the noise that they may have heard in passing, and suddenly feels as though he was pierced in the chest by a barbed weapon when he finds himself staring -- not into the eyes of a friendly Blade, or even Jauffre himself -- but into a pair of familiar golden eyes instead.

His stomach twists, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake his every sense, and he quickly spins on his heel... only to see Korbin standing in the middle of his door, looking as though he, too, had been pierced by the very same metaphorical weapon, but so much more deeply.

Martin can see his shoulders beginning to tremble, he can see him fighting off the urge to raise his hands over his shoulders, or even to bury them underneath his grey locks, and his eyes... dear Akatosh, his eyes. The eyes that would normally hold a playful innocence, look at Martin with deep betrayal as their natural light dulls to nothingness.

As though every possible fear his younger brother may have had, may have carried throughout the course of their time knowing one another... had suddenly, and horrifically came true in one single instant.

And he looks so much older than Martin knows him then. He looks as though he had aged ten years within the span of several seconds, and the strength in Martin's knees begin to give away as he backs up against Lucien to try and keep himself from crumbling.

The color drains from his face as he realizes what it is that Korbin may have heard as he came to locate him, what he may have thought as he bore witness to his own screaming, frustrated remarks, and how he may have taken it without knowing that he surely did not mean it.

But he said the words, he spoke them candidly -- to Lucien, of all people, instead of Korbin himself -- and he feels as though he is no more than three inches tall underneath his brother's broken expression.

"Kor-Korbin, I--" Martin begins to say; stammering considerably as he tries to find the words need, the strength needed. And yet, underneath those faded, almost emptied eyes of his brother, he feels himself incapable of speaking anything more than merely the most foolish of question. "H-How long... how long have you... have you been standing... there?"

"Oh, quite long enough it seems," Korbin says after a moment of extended silence; his words just unemotional and as dull as his eyes. "You see, I was actually coming to speak with you. To try and apologize for all the worry that I caused because of my recklessness, as well as everything that led to you leaving my side in a huff after you healed my wounds... but I can so plainly see that it was obviously a waste of my time."

Martin shakes his head as tears begin to fill in his eyes and blur his vision. "No, no, Korbin... little brother, lis-listen to me..."

"I never actually realized that caring for me was, in fact, such an incredible weight upon your shoulders, Martin," Korbin tells him with a saddened smile, and the faintest of chuckles escaping past his lips.

"But I should have, shouldn't I? After all, I knew too well that you often worried -- to the point of breaking -- whenever I ventured out on missions for you, or for Lucien, and then subsequently returned to the temple injured in a way that you were not prepared for... but I would have never thought, would have never even guessed that your grievances truly ran so deep..."

"Korbin, no, you don't -- you don't understand, I didn't mean it like that, I didn't mean it at all, I just..." Martin moves forward, extending his hand out to Korbin in an attempt to latch onto him, to try and comfort him, to help him to understand.

But the youngest among them simply backs away, as his smile spreads more painfully over his lips.

"Well then, if that is truly how you feel about the situation," Korbin says to Martin; seemingly unfazed by his words, or perhaps simply no longer caring. "How you feel about me, then I will be certain to do whatever is within my power to spare you of any further burden regarding myself and my wellbeing in the future."

Korbin then turns on his heel, leaving Martin's room, and making his way down the stairs that connects to the rest of the temple. In the very instant he is gone, completely out of view of both elder brothers, Martin feels as though his heart is shattering into a thousand pieces at his feet, and as though he surely has made the worst possible mistake of his entire thirty seven years of life.

And Lucien feels very much the same. "...Do you see now why I attempted to silence you before you dug yourself into an even dipper grave than you already were in?"

"But I didn't... that isn't what I meant, I simply-- " Martin continues to stammer pitifully as his words remain fragmented, and incomplete; after a moment, he shakes his head, and turns to look at the Assassin with a deep level of remorse in his tear stained eyes. "Lucien, you know... you know that I would never--"

"Yes, I realize that," Lucien sighs deeply; pressing a hand to Martin's shoulder. "But Korbin does not, and that is why you must rectify your terrible mistake at once."

"But... but how? What should I... what should I do to even begin to repair this?"

"Chase him before he leaves the temple grounds," Lucien explains simply. "For, if I know my Silencer well enough, that is exactly what he is in the process of doing whilst we merely linger in place. Attempting to put as much distance between himself and you as he possibly is able. Thus, you must find him, stop him, and allow him to know what you actually meant by your words in whatever way you deem most appropriate."

He pulls his hand away, and then gestures towards the door once more. "And it would be best if you hurried."

=====

Rushing out of the double doors of Cloud Ruler, Korbin makes his way towards the main gates of the temple that connects with the nearest mountain surrounding the Bruma forests. With every step forward, it is accompanied with an equally pained groan as his hands ball themselves into fists, and slam into the sides of his head.

Tears sting painfully in his eyes, and he pulls lightly on his hair as he descends past the courtyard and towards the first of two stone staircases; all the while seemingly blaming himself for what transpired, for what happened, as he mutters harshly under his breath.

"For the love of Sithis himself, I know, I know!" Korbin then shouts to the snow and the wind surrounding him; fully unaware of Martin’s presence at his heels, or the words that the Septim Heir speaks in an attempt to gain his brother’s attention somehow. "I know I should have realized something like this would happen eventually! I know I should have prepared myself for it! I know it shouldn't surprise me, considering everything that I’ve done! Just shut up, just bloody shut up! I don't need you to rub it in, and somehow make it worse!"

"Korbin!" Comes Martin’s voice at his back; and as Korbin begins to still, coming to stand momentarily in place -- once more pulling at his hair, and nearly ripping out strands of it as he continues to whisper angry words to himself -- Martin takes the given opportunity to finally close the distance between them as he reaches out to grab a fistful of his brother’s armor. "Korbin, please! You must stop trying to avoid me! Stop trying to leave my side, and simply listen for one single instance as I explain myself!"

Korbin pulls away from Martin’s touch, and from it he feels a wave of anger -- at himself, not at Korbin, absolutely not at Korbin -- for failing to pull him closer to his side, or into his arms, or even so much as getting him to turn around and face him directly.

"I know what you may be feeling," Martin explains carefully. "I know very well that you are undoubtedly upset, that you are angry, as well as hurt for what you heard me speak to Lucien so openly, but... but you aren't understanding the truth of the matter! The meaning behind my words, and that what you heard is not at all what you think, or what you may fear!"

Halfway down the remainder of the stone staircase, Korbin finally comes to a complete stop upon one of the lowest steps. Whatever attempts that he made to flee from both the temple and Martin had seemingly come to a sudden, and abrupt end. Whatever furious words that he spoke to himself, blamed himself over, had now been silenced by Martin’s own emotional outcry.

And after a moment of sheer nothingness but the sound of the chilling wind howling between them, Korbin finally speaks in a low, gruff whisper; his tone both fractured, and pained.

"Is anything that you have ever said to me... " He begins to say; his voice cracking slightly. "Anything that you ever told me in our most quiet of moments shared together... was any of it even remotely true? Or have you been lying from the very beginning?"

Martin blinks; taken aback. "...What?"

"You told me once that you cared about me, that you loved me as your sibling," Korbin turns around, and stares at Martin as tears quickly spill down his cheeks. "That I would never have to...have to second guess myself, because you always assured me that, no matter what came our why, no matter what may end up happening, I was always going to be worthy of your affection..."

Korbin allows his words to trail, and then laughs bitterly.

"Oh, do not tell me that you have somehow forgotten such sentimental claims?" He asks accusingly. "You told me after the failed mission with the spies nestled within the city, and yet... in the very moment you choose to leave my side, to speak privately to Lucien behind closed doors over what happened in the mission, of the mistakes I have deeply shamed you with... you readily admit that caring for me is incredibly tiring!"

"...Brother, no; that isn’t--"

"Meaning, obviously, that I am somehow a... a hassle? Or perhaps even a burden, if you prefer that word over the former?" Korbin walks closer; watching Martin backs up as he does. "So, tell me! What is really the truth, Septim?! Should I have even bothered becoming close with you, after all this time? Was it simply just a waste, when in reality you despised me all along?!"

Korbin’s voice raises in volume, as well as heartbreak; closing the distance between him and Martin and staring him down.

"What was the breaking point, I wonder? The fact that I am an Assassin? The way that I end lives as a chosen profession? The overwhelming bloodlust associated with it? Or perhaps it is the fact that a bastard heir of a dead Emperor cannot dare to be seen with a worthless heap abandoned upon the streets? Just admit it to my face, then!" He shoves Martin back, and his tears fall more heavily.

"If you truly hate me, then just say it directly instead of stating it in secret! Confirm every fear that I have always had, and I will leave your side for good!"

Martin stumbles from the force of Korbin's sudden push, and struggles to maintain both his physical, and mental balance. Uncertain if he should simply allow Korbin to work through his sorrow, his genuine pain over what he did, over what he caused without his intervention, or... if he should instead stand his ground against every false accusation that his brother throws angrily with an unflinching, uncharacteristic stoic expression, and only choose to speak once Korbin had successfully tired himself.

He does not have a chance to decide on either choice presented to him, for as collides into the nearest wall, a look of anger marred by a faint glow of gold shines in his eyes, and he loses control of himself -- for the third time that evening -- before his mind can tell him to simply be silent and not somehow make the same mistake twice.

"How, in the names of all the known Divines, could you possibly believe that I could ever hate you?!" Martin screams without realizing, and flinches when he hears how sharp his voice sounds in his own ears. He does not make an effort to quell his anger, even despite every part of him begging for him to understand that what he is doing could possibly push Korbin further away than he already was.

"How can you even stand in front of me and think there would ever come a time where I would somehow see you in any other way than I always have?! Do you not realize the extent of your own worth in my eyes?! Do you not understand just how much I care for you, and how..."

Martin looks away from Korbin for a moment and struggles desperately to collect his thoughts. Tears fill in his eyes just as they once had, he feels his throat tightening from the words that go temporarily unspoken, and throughout it all... Korbin only watches him with a careful gaze.

Uncertain how to feel about what is now happening around him, uncertain where all of these frantic words are going, and if it will somehow end up as it had before. Part of him wants to turn around and be ignorant. To pretend he does not hear anything that Martin is saying. That nothing he would say would make this right, and yet still he continues to remain in place.

He doesn't know if he is simply waiting for the moment for Martin to set aside all the lies, all the anger, and simply admit -- once and for all -- that he does indeed hate him, or if he is waiting for him to finish so that they can might say their final goodbyes to one another.

With a shake of his head, and a quiet laugh, he goes to open his mouth -- to tell Martin to hurry up and get this over with -- and when he does... he sees the hurt in his brother's eyes. The very same hurt that he wore when he realized that he had been listening to his hidden truth in the hallway all along, and that only triples Korbin's confusion.

Martin moves closer and touches a hand to Korbin's shoulder. "...Do you truly not realize how thankful I am for you? For being in my life, and for... genuinely saving me?" Korbin opens his mouth to speak, to accuse him of deceit, but Martin quickly hushes him.

"Korbin... you came into my life in the very moment in which I lost faith of everything I once sought to understand. When you and Lachance stood before me in that ruined chapel in Kvatch, you... you smiled at me, told me that you were there to save my life, and... I could have never understood just how truthful such words would actually become."

"...All I did was pull you out of rubble, and close a Gate of Oblivion, I didn't--"

"You did far more than you could have ever realized. Not only did you save me from the hordes of Oblivion itself, but you..." Martin's words catch in his throat, and he swallows heavily. If there was a time to be overwhelmed, and to try and hide away... it was surely not this moment. Not now. Not when he was so desperate to make Korbin understand.

Breathing in, he continues on. "You gave me purpose. You gave me a genuine reason to keep going, to keep fighting, to search for the light of a new dawn -- when everything would be all right -- when everything up until such a point told me to simply lay down and accept what had happened. That I had failed, that the Divines themselves abandoned me, that I lost everything that I cared for once again... and yet, you pulled me up. You brought me out of the darkness of my own mind, and in return..."

Korbin shakes his head; adverting his gaze and looking at every other possible thing instead of Martin’s face. "...Martin, stop. It’s all right, and you don’t have to keep--"

"--And in return... you wanted nothing more than friendship, kinship," Martin laughs tearfully as a smile spreads over his lips; not at all allowing Korbin to somehow believe the doubt that was steadily creeping deeper into his mind. "You took me aside, you called me brother, when you hardly had any reason to do so. You did not know me, not truly; you did not know of my past, or the things I had done, the people I had lost, and yet it surely did not matter in your eyes... because through it all, you still stood beside me. You still protected me. Against the Daedra, against myself..."

He sighs and places his hand against Korbin's cheek. "And yet, somehow... you truly have the gall to believe that I... could ever hate you?"

"But I heard you," Korbin explains through a whisper; pulling back from Martin's touch, and finally finding the courage to look at him. "...I heard what you said to Lachance about me. Over how caring for me was tiring, that it was an incredibly draining feat, that you had to hide your frustrations, and I was --"

"Oh, my dearest brother," Martin interjects softly; effectively cutting Korbin off before he has a chance to suffocate within his own self-loathing. "You misheard me. You misunderstood my words completely. As I only meant that it was tiring to use such powerful healing spells on your numerous injuries. That the use of my inner Light was what was draining, and I hid it from Lucien’s eyes to spare him of the worry he would have seeing me in such a state."

And then it is Korbin's eyes that widen, and blink in surprise to what he is hearing. "...Wa-Wait... what...?"

"It was not that you, yourself, was tiring, Korbin. For I would never think that towards you. Not even with my dying breath," Martin runs a hand through Korbin's messy grey locks. "You spoke of our conversation when you were ambushed by Mankar Camoran's spies upon the journey back to Cloud Ruler Temple, and yet it seems as though you failed to remember the strain such healing had on my body at the time."

He watches a frown touch Korbin’s lips as he struggles to think back. "I can easily understand how you would assume my words to be something born of the darkest nightmares that plague you during the longest nights," He tells him; his voice somewhat cautious as he treads over a difficult subject. "But I swear to you... that is all I meant by what I said. That such spell casting was deeply tiring and caused my body to be drained. Nothing more than that; I give you my absolute word."

Korbin remains silent for an extended moment. Still looking at his brother with genuine shock. Martin takes such a sight as a means to continue on; smiling more softly, and slightly more playfully.

"However, you should know that, yes, it is indeed quite a trial to look after you, time and again. Especially when you are wounded so often, and so recklessly--"

"Aha! So, you do admit it! Meaning that part of your words held some manner of truth, after all!"

Martin sighs, and pulls Korbin into a sudden, tender embrace. "...Korbin, the only reason I say this at all, is because of what seeing you so close to death has on my own wellbeing." He presses a gentle kiss to the side of his head. "Do you not understand how much it pains me to even consider the thought of losing you? Of losing the one I so openly consider my beloved younger brother?"

"But you... I thought --" Korbin stammers; unable to piece together coherent words as he tries to make sense of everything Martin is telling him. He had thought that the conversation would go one way -- one terrible, awful way -- and yet, it went in a direction that he was not prepared for.

He is uncertain how to handle the genuine emotion, the genuine affection, and in the end, he simply buries himself into Martin's embrace, and allows himself to cry.

"Answer me honestly now, brother; please," Martin whispers into his ear, still holding him tightly in his arms. "Do you truly believe I could ever possibly hate you in any way? That I could ever come to view our time spent throughout these many long months anything other than a constant source of joy, and reassurance in my life?"

"...But you sounded so furious before."

"Frustrated; not furious," Martin corrects gently. "And that was only because when you first returned, and then collapsed in my arms with so many open wounds, I truly thought that you were mere moments away from fading completely. I thought that I was too late, and thus it took every amount of strength that I still had within me to keep myself together long enough to actually save your life."

Korbin slowly pulls back with a familiar frown. "...So, you were angry with the fact that I was injured, and not...actually with me overall?" He asks him nervously. "Even despite how you shouted me back into consciousness and then basically drug me up the stairs to my room by my ear?"

"Well yes; that is exactly what it was, Korbin, " Martin says with a faint laugh. "And I am sorry for shouting at you, although I’m certain you now know the reason why I did."

"I do, but... just to be sure. You don't -- actually hate me, or regret choosing to care for me in any way?" Korbin stares down at his feet as they shuffle against the snow caked along the surface of the stairs as the second question falls from his lips.

"...Is that what you truly fear coming to pass?" Martin paraphrases Lucien’s own words.

And Korbin slowly nods. "...Part of it, but there is so much more that I fear other than simply --" His words are cut off abruptly, as Martin moves in to wrap his arms tightly back around his brother in a show of reassurance as the chill of the cold continues to whip at their backs.

At the sudden touch, Korbin loses control of himself completely, and instantly clings onto his brother as though he is surely the only thing keeping him together in this ever changing, ever worrying, almost intolerable world that they live in.

"I promise you, there is not a single moment where you have been at my side that I have felt any regret over," Martin says after a moment; pulling back, and smiling. "You are my brother, Korbin; and I love you dearly. I could never even consider hating you, no matter what it is that you do in this life, or the next."

Korbin chuckles tiredly and gives Martin a half grin. The natural playfulness had returned only slightly, and yet it still contained everything that Martin knew all too well. He shakes his head in amusement, thankful for seeing even a hint of the brother that he knew and points a finger accusingly.

"However, that was not at all an open invitation to experiment with the limits of my patience, I will have you know."

Korbin's chuckling turns to genuine laughter at Martin's mischievous words -- those of which he would be more than excited to test when this day was over, and the anger had faded with the setting sun -- and he carefully wraps an arm around his brother as the two of them begin to make their way back up the stone stairs, and towards the main entrance to the temple where Lucien was waiting for them in the distance.

"Ah, you take the fun out of almost everything, Septim."

Once they catch Lucien's ever watchful gaze, and the Assassin greets them with a gentle smile -- obviously pleased with the outcome that both of his younger siblings were more than capable of finding on their own with only the slightest push in the proper direction by his own hands -- Martin suddenly sighs and leans more heavily within Korbin's half embrace.

Korbin turns his head at the sound, and Martin smiles. "Even after all this time, I truly do not understand how Lachance does it..."

"Does... what, exactly?" Korbin asks; eyebrow raised.

"Makes situations such as this look positively like child's play," Martin explains with a shake of his head. "Is there perhaps something that I have missed? Some clever word, or secret tome, or even some special power that would effectively grant to me the mastery that our brother has over these sorts of moments in our life together?"

Korbin laughs; sounding far more genuine than he had been in hours. "Well, I'm not quite sure, Martin!" He says with another grin. "I mean... yes, Lucien has quite the talent for moments like this; there is truly no doubt about that, but I don't think it has anything to do with some sort of magical power! It would make sense if there was, but I think..." His words trail slightly, and when Martin cranes his head to meet his gaze, Korbin’s grin then spreads from ear to ear. "Well, I simply believe that after so long, and how many times he has had to pull us both back from the darkest depths of ourselves, that it is just a natural talent brought on from a near endless amount of patience, and practice."

"Oh, is that so true?" Martin matches Korbin's laughter. "Well, here is another question, then! Do you believe that it would be possible to learn such a skill? Or that he could train me if I so asked?"

"Perhaps!" Korbin cheerfully replies; gesturing towards the open temple doors that Lucien had disappeared into once he witnessed them smiling and sharing a laugh. "And if you do, then perhaps you will end up honing such a skill far more easily than you have your numerous Assassin training!"

Martin's laughter fades to a low chuckle, reaching up and ruffling Korbin's hair as they walk into the temple together. "I shall have you know that such training is coming along swimmingly, and there have been quite many times where I have nearly caught Lucien completely by surprise with my ability in the art of stealth."

"Now I know that you are lying, Septim!" Korbin ducks under Martin's hand and rushes forward to escape his sudden onslaught of playfully unwanted affection. "You being able to get the jump on Lucien when I, myself, could never?! Nothing more than absolute lies!"

He waves a dismissive hand. "But regardless of such – oh-so obvious – lies, I do so wonder what is it we should call this brand-new training regimen for the both of you? Every good means of training should have a proper title, as you should surely know! Brother protection, perhaps? Korbin defense 101?"

"I'm quite fond of the latter myself, I do admit."

"Ah, as am I!" Korbin nods almost proudly. "Let us go and locate our wayward shadowy sibling at once and ask his opinion on such things!"

Martin smiles warmly. "After you, dear brother."

And as the familiar twinkling fully returns to Korbin’s eyes, he then quickly turns on his heel. Dashing away from the main hall and making his way towards the staircase leading to the higher rooms within the temple walls with a boyish laugh -- as well as a impish taunt in the hopes that Martin would willingly follow after him with similar speed in a sudden, impromptu game of chase to see who would be able to reach Lucien's room before the other.

Martin watches him go with a gentle, content chuckle at the absolutely wonderful sight before him. Signifying that things had returned to reality normalcy once again -- or rather to their own personal definition of such a word -- and then he slowly breathes in… before accepting his brother's given challenge and tailing along after him in all too pleased bliss.

#hero of kvatch #martin septim #lucien lachance #the elder scrolls oblivion #tes oblivion #The Knight The Emperor And The Assassin~#My Fan Fiction~

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saiilorstars · 3 years

Text

Fairy Tale Memoirs

Author’s Note: This is part of a one-shot/AU companion story to Stars Dance & Falling in Temptation that features Avalon Reynolds and the Doctor (from 9th-13th Doctor) along with other companions + Lena Reynolds.

// Current Masterlist //

taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel

Ch. 4: The Builders

Summary: While her mother is asleep, Aurora gets to have some bonding time with her father. The Doctor is amazed to see his daughter's work.

Aurora’s face claim is Kennedy McMann!

Things were mostly quiet in the TARDIS. The Doctor expected it to be that way even though he had finally taken Avalon and Aurora away in the TARDIS. His girls were actually going to live with him from now on. He had so many plans for them and he couldn't wait to get started...but first they needed to rest. Avalon needed to sleep. Though she didn't sleep as much as an average human would, she still needed sleep at times. So, as much as it pained him to keep waiting, the Doctor let her rest. Aurora disappeared in her new room too...

Or so he thought.

He'd heard a spark from the console and since he wasn't around to cause it, he practically dashed into the room. "Where's the fire, dear!? Where's the fire!?" Instead of getting a usual hum from the TARDIS, Aurora popped up from the other side of the console. Her green eyes were wide as could be - she was a deer caught in headlights. Nothing like her mother in that aspect. Avalon never cared if she got caught, the Doctor always had too much fun to get caught up in 'getting caught' but Aurora...she was quite different in that aspect.

"Hi Dad..." she greeted all too innocently. "I wasn't messing with the console. I definitely wasn't trying to see what the knobs did..."

"Aurora! What are—" he sputtered, "Didn't you—weren't you supposed to be asleep!?"

Aurora scratched behind her ear. "Not really."

"What!?"

"I just...I knew if I didn't say I was sleepy then Mum wouldn't have gone to sleep either."

"So you just lied!?"

"No, I just...agreed with her," Aurora smirked. That was all Avalon.

It actually scared the Doctor how similar the smirks were but at the same time it warmed his hearts to see a little copy of his Ava. He couldn't wait to see more moments like these.

"Oh don't be mad with me, Dad," Aurora sighed and started coming around the console. "And don't tell Mum either. I don't really sleep that much. I actually sleep less than Mum."

"Makes sense since you are my daughter," the Doctor came up the steps to join her. "Avalon relatively sleeps about 3 or 4 days a week."

"I don't need it," Aurora shrugged. "I've gone on two days sometimes. But Mum doesn't really know about that — I think it'd make her feel bad that I'm up in the nights while she physically can't be."

"That would sound like her," the Doctor agreed with a nod of his head. "So...what do you do during those nights?"

Aurora hummed. "Lots of things! I go sneaking out to meet boys, of course!"

"What!?" The Doctor's hand came flinging to his chest. He actually felt like a heart attack was coming. A true, proper one. Aurora burst into laughter. "You're not dating anyone until you're 5000 years old!"

"You're not even 5000 years old!"

"Well, then that means there's still a long time to wait!"

Aurora rolled her eyes, attempting to look as irritated as she sounded, but the truth is she was ecstatic to have a conversation like this. She was finally with her father and even when he pulled stuff like this, she would never be bothered.

"You can't go pushing buttons like that, dear," the Doctor said and it earned himself a deep scoff. Aurora shot him a look for him to re-evualute his words. Eventually, the Doctor smirked. "Yeah, alright."

Aurora giggled. "When I was a kid, like 3 years old, I was staying with grandma Amy and grandpa Rory. I found the button for the disposal in the sink." The look on her face promised the Doctor there was a good ending to come. "I took it as a 'How much is too much?' and my answer was 3 apples, 2 hair scrunchies and one dishrag."

"You did not..." the Doctor struggled incredibly hard to keep his laughter at bay. He could already imagine the Ponds' reactions finding the littlest Pond experimenting with their kitchen sink.

Aurora smirked. "I did. I realized that human sink disposals are far too weak. I had to upgrade it...but Mum said I wasn't allowed to. Something about being 3 years old..." The Doctor looked at her for the longest time. Aurora would've taken it had it not been for the story she had just told. "Are you mad too?"

"No..." He admitted. "But don't tell your mother."

Aurora laughed and sprinted up to him for a hug. The Doctor welcomed it with tight arms. They both suspected that it would be like this for a long time. Centuries of missing out on each other's lives did that.

"I'm really glad that you're here now," Aurora murmured. "There's so many things I've always wanted to do with you."

"Well...we're together now, and your mother is going to be sleeping for a few more hours..." the Doctor untangled his arms from his daughter to look at her, "What's first on that list?"

Aurora beamed at the prospect. "Can we finish my sonic screwdriver? Mum doesn't know about it and I get the feeling she'd be the same type of mad whether it was finish or not. I'd rather be in trouble with a finished sonic than an unfinished one."

The Doctor chuckled. "Your thought logic is...interesting."

Aurora grinned. "So is that a yes?"

"For my daughter? How could I say 'no'?"

Aurora cheered and threw her arms around her father. "You're the best!"

How easily those words came out of her mouth when she barely knew him. It warmed the Doctor's hearts to know that even when he was gone, Avalon never spoke ill of him to their daughter.

~0~

Aurora had of course brought along her unfinished screwdriver, cleverly hidden amongst her boxes so Avalon wouldn't find it. The Doctor wouldn't say it out loud but he was impressed with how cleverly it was done. He was never able to hide anything from Avalon for long.

The Doctor had brought them to his old workshop where they would have everything to work with. Aurora had already, just like her mother had the first time she walked in, remarked about the messy state of the room.

"Critics, the both of you," the Doctor had responded with, making her laugh.

"This is what I have so far," Aurora timidly placed her work on the table. She stepped back so that the Doctor could examine what she'd built so far.

"It's amazing how similar the mechanics are to my previous sonics," he remarked.

"I-I may have asked your friend, Sarah Jane, to see hers for a bit. She didn't really know what I was doing."

"You did this from the memory of a quick inspection of another sonic?" The Doctor turned around.

Aurora nodded her head slowly. She was practically holding her breath waiting to hear what he would say. Would he be disappointed? Had she missed something? She'd tried her best to remember but it really had been a long time since she saw Sarah Jane.

"Well done, princess!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Aurora's face lit up. "Really? You like it?"

"Of course! This is great work and you did this without the usual tools you need. You're naturally intelligent."

Aurora's face might as well be a Christmas tree. "You really mean that?"

The Doctor nodded. "Of course! We just need to add a couple things to it."

"Yeah! What kind of things!?" Aurora scurried beside him, eager to learn what ideas he had in mind.

"You said like building things, right?"

"Mhm, I have so many unfinished projects in my boxes...if you want to take a look at them later on...?" Aurora nervously smiled at him.

The Doctor softly smiled down at her. "I would love to." He put an arm around her shoulders and gestured to the sonic on the table. "Since you like building things, we could make that a primary function for your sonic. Maybe we can even make it functional for wood."

Aurora giggled. "Mum says it's stupid that your high-tech sonic doesn't do wood."

"Yeah, and I told her not to diss it," the Doctor grumbled.

"Can we really make it work for wood?"

"Of course we can. We're the best team! Let's get to work!"

The Doctor started gathering some of the usual tools and, regretfully, had to tear into what Aurora already had done. "It's just to connect a few wires," he told Aurora when she started pouting. He didn't want her to think her work wasn't good enough because it was. He was amazed with her work and the fact she had done it all on her own was even more impressive. It reminded him of his young days locked in a workshop with endless plans.

Aurora was up and ready to bring along whatever her father needed. She was ecstatic to be working with him. It wasn't like anything she could've imagined. He was a rambler and sometimes he mind of lost her. She tried to follow along as much as she could but now she could really understand her mother when she said the Doctor talked nonsense. It was funny nonsense but nonsense nonetheless.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" she decided to interject once the rambling had gone somewhere banana-related. "I don't want bananas in my sonic!"

The Doctor laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. These wires are getting crossed and I'm going bananas!"

"Oh," Aurora scratched the side of her head. "Can I try?"

"Of course," the Doctor pulled off his goggles, the same ones that Aurora had made fun of as soon as she found them "But you have to put these on."

Aurora grumbled. "This is payback, isn't it?"

"No..." the Doctor promptly put them on her and barely held his laughter in when he got a good look at her. "What do you know? They do make you look like a bug."

"Dad!" she cried.

"Alright, alright, have at it," he stepped aside so she could see the wires. "We need to carefully twist the wires so they'll connect at the end right..." he tried pointing to the itty-bitty hole at the end of the sonic, "...there."

"Easy peasy," Aurora declared. She grabbed clippers and lowered them to the wires.

"Take it slowly," her father warned. "Can't tell you how many times I burned my fingers."

"You don't have to tell me, I can see it."

The Doctor huffed. "Oh, you're a funny one!"

Aurora bared a cheeky smile. "I am, aren't I?"

"Do the wires!"

Aurora giggled but started to focus on the task. The last thing she wanted to do was to ruin her own sonic. "I have to twist..."

"Slowly," the Doctor warned again.

"Mhm," Aurora's tongue stuck out between her teeth the more focused she got. She carefully twisted the wires as her father instructed. She could see the tiny hole and she was proud to say the wires might just fit in.

"You have to hear the click of the wires before you let go," the Doctor said once the wires were close to the hole.

"Got it," Aurora promised. She neared the wires and paid absolute attention. Being so silent had never been her thing. She didn't even know she was capable of it.

And then she heard the click.

"Click?" Aurora's eyes widened, though they were covered by the big goggles over her face. "Click! I did it! Dad, I did it!"

The Doctor couldn't be more proud of his daughter. "You did!"

Aurora dropped the tool with the biggest grin on her face. "I did it!" She pulled off her goggles and chucked them to the table then hugged her father.

"I'm so proud of you, Aurora!" the Doctor hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "My girl's a genius!"

Aurora laughed. "Dad, I just plugged in wires. Not exactly a genius moment."

"Nonsense!" The Doctor set her down and gestured to the nearly finished sonic. "This takes genius to build and you had a lot built before I got to it."

Suddenly, they heard the open. Avalon, a very sleepy version of her, walked into the room. "What the hell is going on with this all noise?"

Aurora's face went into full panic when her mother spotted the almost finished sonic between her and her father. "M-morning Mum..."

"My sweet Ava—" the Doctor started but Avalon zipped him with a wave of her hand.

"Don't even try it, Fairy Tale Man," she took in a deep breath before adding, "You know, one good thing about having you around now is I no longer have to pretend that I don't know my daughter is building things behind my back." Aurora squeaked with the revelation. "Now I can sleep peacefully knowing she won't blow herself up..." Of course then a new thought popped into Avalon's head. "Or maybe I should be more concerned that you two might blow yourselves up..." She sighed heavily. "You're both going to kill me."

"Mum, I'm making a sonic screwdriver!" Aurora exclaimed.

Avalon's face fell flat as her eyes landed on the Doctor. He nervously smiled at her. "If she regenerates, I'm going to kill you." She reached for the door and closed it behind her when she left.

"That was her 'go for it!'," the Doctor clapped his hands together.

Aurora laughed at him. "Seriously?"

"Oh yeah, and she was even nice this time. I guess having you around is a safety measure for me," he smirked.

"Dad."

"Just saying. So, shall we finish this?" He turned to the table where the sonic awaited them.

Aurora nodded. "Oh yeah. Let's do this!"

Author's Note:

I thought there needed to be at least a moment between these two to really finish the series xD. And when I say "finish" i mean the term very loosely because I might add more parts who knows.

#ocappreciation #doctor who #11th doctor #dw #dw imagine #11th doctor imagine #11th doctor imagines #11th doctor fics #dw fics #doctor who fics #oc: Aurora Leigh Reynolds #oc: Avalon Reynolds

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