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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Shut Up!

BluealdezValdez14

Summary:

Some Sebaciel for your reading leisure! Let's just say, Ciel doesn't remember ordering Sebastian to piss him off on a daily basis.

Work Text:

"Sebastian, where is my afternoon tea?" Ciel asked, sounding dreadfully bored. He did not even bother to look up from his papers. Sebastian bowed courteously, and walked forward, pushed the trolley ahead.

"Right here my lord. Today I have prepared jasmine tea with lemon, and strawberry short-cake." His butler announced. " The cake is topped with fresh whipped cream, and do wait a moment before you drink the tea. It is fresh off of the kettle, and will burn you."

Ciel grunted in acknowledgement, and put aside his paperwork. He made room on his desk for the cake, and began to eat. After a minute or two, Ciel cleared his throat, and asked, "Sebastian, did you bring in my mail?"

"Yes, my lord. Out of the five letters you received there was an invitation to Lord Jackson's annual spring ball, a letter from the factory in India discussing progress in this season's production, another invitation to a party, and two newsletters." Sebastian responded. He handed over the post to his master, and began to pour the tea.

"These party invitations are nothing more than a bloody nuisance. When will the nobles realize I am not interested in attending their useless soirees." Ciel complained. Sebastian smirked, and raised an eyebrow.

"But, my lord, if I may, social gatherings provide an opportunity to discuss business with fellow partners. Not to mention, the possible meeting of future clients." He explained.

Ciel glared at him, but asked him another question. "What is my schedule for the rest of the day?"

Pulling out a sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his coat, the well-dressed butler began to list of appointments. "This afternoon you have a meeting with an employee representative from the warehouse in Yorkshire, next you have a dance lesson with Madame Ro-"

"Must I participate in dance? How could two hours of irritation and waltzing possibly benefit me? I do not have the time for such trivial things. Cancel it." Ciel said dismissively.

"But, Young Master-" Sebastian began.

"Cancel it."

Sighing in frustration, Sebastian tried again. "No, Young Master-"

"I said cancel it, Sebastian!"

"Young Master, you are-"

"Just shut up! Sebastian, this is an order: Cancel the damn dance lesson!" Ciel shouted.

Sebastian's eyes widened in shock, but quickly recovered. He gave a sly smile, and nodded his head. He bowed politely, and without uttering another word, left the room. Ciel sighed, and continued his work.

Throughout the rest of the day and evening, Sebastian had not spoken a single word or phrase. He would simply nod his head when given an order, or tilt his head when asked a question. Whenever Ciel asked him why he refused to talk, he would smile and shrug. It irritated the young earl, but Ciel would not give his butler the satisfaction of another outburst.

Soon, Sebastian's odd behavior began to effect the rest of the Phantomhive servants. Everyone found it rather odd when he did not bark orders at them like he normally would. Instead, he left notes with instructions written on them. Though the lack of speech did not stop him from glaring at the servants when they broke or damaged something. The trio soon began to pester the master with questions about the experience.

"Young Master, why is Sebastian not talking? Is he sick?" Finnian asked.

"Is Mister Sebastian alright, You lord?" Mey-Rin questioned.

"Oi, Sir? Is Sebastian okay? He's not talkin' to any of us," Baldroy inquired.

Every time Ciel would respond with, "He is fine, get back to work." Though he did not want to admit it, Ciel was practically driven mad with the lack of social interaction. He almost missed the sound of his butler's voice. Realizing how ridiculous that seemed, Ciel shook his head, and dismissed such a deviant thought.

After two days of dead silence, the boy was at wits end. He finally confronted his mute servant. "Sebastian, why won't you say anything? Answer me, you bastard!" Ciel huffed. As he expected, Sebastian said nothing. "Sebastian, this is an order: Speak!" Ciel growled.

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian said, bowing as he smiled smugly.

"Why the bloody hell weren't you speaking?" Ciel demanded angrily.

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow in mock surprise. "My lord, do you not remember? You specifically requested me to 'Shut up' as I recall." He laughed to himself a little. "Did I not follow your orders?"

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "You bastard. And to think, I really though there was something wrong with you." He hissed.

"My lord, are you saying you were worried about me?" Sebastian asked.

Blushing, Ciel looked the other way. "O-of course not, you fool! I was only concerned that your lack of communication would affect your work, that was all." He refused to look his servant in the eye.

Sebastian snickered, and tilted his little master's chin up. "You know, Sir, you are a terrible liar. What? Did you miss me?" He questioned confidently.

Rolling his eyes, the Earl responded. "Oh, be quie-"

"Be careful what you wish for,"

Ciel let out an exasperated sigh, and closed his eyes. A pair of cold lips touched his own. He opened his eyes, only to find Sebastian leaned in. Kissing him on the lips. Ciel's first thought was to pull away, but something inside of him tugged him to stay. So he did.

Eventually, and much to the Lord's disappointment, Sebastian pulled away. He smiled down at his master, and whispered, "Admit it. You missed me." Ciel refused to say anything at first, but instead pouted. A minute later, Ciel looked up into Sebastian's intense, red eyes, and acknowledged the true feelings that lived within him.

Ciel mumbled breathlessly. "Yes, I did... You arse."

if you wish upon a star

sweetsindle

Summary:

ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɢʀᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʟɪғᴇ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴜᴇ ғᴀɪʀʏ, ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴀ, ᴛᴡɪɴ ᴍᴀʀɪᴏɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏs, ᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄɪᴇʟ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀ ǫᴜᴇsᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ's ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴡɪꜱʜ:ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʙᴏʏs.

Notes:

This Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) fic is based on the Disney 1940's version of Pinocchio!

Chapter 1: a wishful heart

Chapter Text

'It's been that long, hasn't it...?'

Vincent, a lonely toy-maker, whispered. He looked over to the dust-covered portrait of him and his late wife Rachel, tears welling up in his eyes as he shook his head, taking a rather deep breath and turning back to work at hand in front of him.

For as long as Vincent had known Rachel, she had been his world. Every single second of his life revolved around her, and their happiness. It was a warm, sunny day in April when the two had gotten married. They planned for an entire life together, full of love, happiness, ambition, and light - Only for it to get cut short.

They had everything, didn't they?

A shop where they made a living, doing what they loved. Vincent always loved sharing and giving joy to others, so becoming a toymaker was the most logical step he could take. After all, he was quite talented in the areas of wood carving, wasn't he? He and Rachel could live comfortably due to his talent and passion, as well as Rachel's love of talking to be people -

Her area in their shop had been operating the counter and assisting in the sales and such of the carefully-crafted toys they sold.

What a happy life they had, didn't they?

To everyone around the couple, it seemed like they had a perfectly beautiful life, and they were almost right.

The only thing that was missing from their nearly-perfect life was a child.

All they had ever wanted since setting up shop and being able to afford it, they dreamed of having a precious little son or daughter of their own. Just the thought of a happy small child running around their shop, bright eyes, and a warm smile, brought warmth to their hearts.

So they started getting ready for a potential child.

They put together a nursery, and carefully decorating the room with all the love and care in their hearts excited to start a little family all their own.

Days past, and try as they might, Rachel just never seemed to get pregnant.

That was alright, though. After all, Rachel and Vincent were young and had plenty of time before they weren't able to have children at all! So they put it to the side for the moment and continued the work they loved so dearly.

They worked and worked the days away, their dream always in the back of their heads that someday, they might be able to have a child.

But one day, their dream was thrown away.

Rachel fell sick, and no matter what Vincent did, no matter which he took his dear wife too, she just never got better. He sat next to her for days on end, praying and wishing that she would get better - in the back of his head, knowing that it was foolish. There was no way he could save her.

No one could save his dear Rachel.

This was the end.

And it was.

One inappropriately beautiful sunny morning when Vincent arose to take care of his wife in the spare bedroom, there she was, her chest unmoving...She wasn't breathing.

All he needed to do was touch her hand, and that gave him all the confirmation he needed.

His wife, Rachel, had passed away in her sleep.

It hurt.

Everything ACHED.

In Vincent's head, at that moment, everything stopped. He stopped caring about his work, he lost interest in the things he loved to do...Life, to him, without his wife, just wasn't worth living anymore. But in his heart, he knew that no matter what, he couldn't stop.

They had worked so hard for everything they had - why let it all go to waste?

After all, even if he had lost her, and their dream of having a child, at least he still had their passion in life.

Making toys and spreading joy in their small village.

Just the thought of the children that often came into play with the toys he made...It made him so happy, despite his hurt. Despite all the aching, he felt. He may have lost her, but had he really?

As long as he kept the joy and the warmth in the shop that it always had, when they were still together, he felt like she was still there with him.

"Sebastian, no, not there, you silly thing!" Vincent laughed with a smile, gently pulling the dog away from the pair of toys he was currently working on. "You're going to break them if you keep jumping about like that! You don't want to ruin them, do you? They'll need a good little boy or girl to take them home, and no one will want them!"

Vincent grinned, gently patting the big black dog's head, the dog clearly enjoying the attention.

It had been several years since Rachel's death, but that hadn't slown the toymaker down - no, not at all!

Just the thought of her gentle, kind eyes and approving smile kept him going, even though the loneliest of times...But even then, life had been hard. To an outsider, Vincent was the same passionate man who adored his work. He loved making anyone and everyone smile with his creations...But if they had gotten to know him, honestly, they would soon realize that he had changed since all those years ago.

He didn't really talk to anyone or have any friends...really.

Ever since she had gone, he had shut out his old friends. He threw himself into his work, his only companion being the big black dog, who he named Sebastian after finding him abandoned as a sick and malnourished puppy.

But even then, with only his dog as his company, he was happy.

Vincent took some navy blue paint, and leaning over one of the toys, he carefully painted on a pair of eyebrows.

He soon did the same to the other and doing the same, before grabbing a bottle full of a lovely pale pink.

Leaning over, he neatly painting on a pair of lips for both - the first, with more of a confident, proud smile, and the second with a much more shy, yet sweet smile.

Taking a few steps back, it was clear that from anyone's point of view that Vincent was creating a pair of marionette twins

- and what lovely marionettes they were!

Their matching sailor suits (the first one's mostly red with a light blue ribbon and tie, and the second with a primarily bright blue suit with matching red lace and ribbon) were carefully sewn and looked beautiful:

tightly-laced ballet flats made with the most expensive silk he could afford...and their smiles.

Their smiles were happy and welcoming, and they looked almost just like...two little boys.

"Ah, they're finished!" Vincent announced, quickly redoing the second marionette's tie, before finally stepping back. "Aren't they just perfect, Sebastian? My, I'd even have to say that these are my finest yet!"

Sebastian nodded excitedly, pushing forward to get a better look and barking happily.

"Now, what shall their names be...Oh, I know!"

The dog looked towards his owner, clearly curious.

"How about..." Vincent paused, gently cocking his head to the side as he studied the two marionettes. "For the first one...Ciel! Yes, Ciel shall be a wonderful name for him - and as for the second...Lapis, maybe?" Vincent asked, turning to the dog, his midnight-black eyebrow raised.

Sebastian shook his head.

"Oh, dear, you're right. That name doesn't suit him at all! Celeste, maybe?" Vincent shook his head with a sigh. "No, that's way too much like Ciel's, and I want his name to be just as special, as well different!"

He started to pace around the shop, thinking of each and every possible name he could use.

Fate, Arthur, Zens, Rain, Angel, Lazulite, Aster....

ASTER!

"Oh yes, Aster! That sounds like a perfectly wonderful name, don't you think? Ciel and Aster!" Vincent exclaimed, his eyes wide with pure excitement and tremendous joy. "What do you think, Sebastian? Don't you like their names, as well?"

Sebastian barked and shook his head.

"Well, you're a dog, so-" Vincent said, laughing as he gently grabbed the two marionette twins by their strings, and steadily stood the two up.

He made sure the two could stand up properly, as well as move, before setting them back on the counter. "Nothing wrong with their joints that I can tell, and they can both stand up straight," the toy-maker mumbled softly to himself as he grabbed a quill.

Grabbing an already-written on a piece of parchment that detailed his progress of the two twin marionettes, he finished up a few of the notes.

Labeled under 'ballet marionette twins,' along with detailed sketches of each puppet, he wrote down notes about each.

Puppet #1 (Ciel)

- Carved left ring finger incorrectly (fixed)

- Suit wrong color asked for majority red and trimmings and such blue, but came in all yellow?? (fixed)

- Rest of outfit, yet to come in (here!)

- Add details to suit and nails - eyelashes too! (done, and done!)

- The right leg is a bit shorter compared to others, and that of the 2nd puppet's (fixed)

- Does he stand up correctly? (Yes!)

- Does he move the way he should? (Yes!)

- Last touches finished? (Yes!)

Puppet #2 (Aster)

- An accident with the left eye. (fixed, for now, added an eyepatch for the time being.)

- Painted nails incorrectly. (fixed)

- Ballet flats haven't come in yet when asked. (finally, they did yesterday - the 13th)

- Get around to painting his teeth (done)

- Does he stand up correctly? (Yes!)

- Does he move the way he should? (Yes!)

- Last touches finished? (Yes!)

Looking up from his parchment, and finally checking in all that needed to be, he decided that he was done for the day - but not before testing out the marionettes!

He grinned, picking up Aster up by random and soon enough, finding himself leading the puppet in a simple, yet graceful dance. "What do you think, Sebastian?" Vincent asked the big, black borzoi as he led Aster in yet another delicate turn.

The dog barked happily, jumping around the black-haired man as he led the puppet in a graceful dance, laughing as he watched the borzoi try and lick Aster every chance he got. "What are you doing, boy? Aster isn't a treat!"

He grinned softly, spinning the marionette, before ultimately scooping the delicate, navy-haired thing into his arms with care, as if he were carrying a real boy, and leaned down to the dog. "Alright, so let's do this properly! Sebastian, meet Aster! Be nice now!"

The dog barked, practically bouncing on his paws.

Vincent set Aster down on the floor on his feet, next to the dog and made him wave, before gently patting the dog.

Sebastian barked happily, seeming to immediately like as well as trust the puppet, eagerly putting his hand under the marionette's fingers, practically begging for more pets.

The toy-maker chuckled and gave Sebastian yet another loving pat with the aide of the small marionette before carefully picking it up and putting it back on the counter next to its brother.

Soon after, he gently grabbed Ciel, as well as his strings, and carefully stood him up. "Now, let's see what he can do! Hopefully, he's just as perfect as his little brother, eh?" Vincent asked Sebastian, earning yet another playful bark from the dog.

"Adorable, aren't they?" Vincent said absentmindedly as he engaged the 'older' puppet in the same graceful dance as it's younger brother

- stopping for a second before laughing and going over to a nearby music box, turning it on, followed by a few others. "Music, professor!"

He hummed softly, a bright smile on his face as he's led the small puppet, Sebastian following after.

"Little wooden-heads go play your part, bring a little joy to every heart~" He sang softly, a grin appearing on the man's face. After a second of this, he went back over to the counter, scooping little Aster up and getting him in the same position as Ciel, now leading both twin puppets in the dance together.

"bring a little joy to every heart~ little do you both know oh yes it's true," He continued with a warm smile, guiding the puppets into jolly little twirls. "- that I'm mighty proud of you!"

"Little wooden feet and best of all, a little wooden seat in case you fall-" Vincent said with a laugh, playfully letting the two marionettes to fall, before helping them back up.

" - Ohhh, ho! How graceful!" He said with a smile, allowing Sebastian to keep up with him as they moved around his workspace. "- my little wooden heads~!"

The music continued on, and so did Vincent, guiding the marionettes in a dance, happily humming all the way.

He would approach the dog, walking the two puppets to the borzoi. "Sebastian, meet Ciel!" Vincent told Ciel, a chuckle escaping his lips as he conducted Ciel in such a way that it looked like the puppet was raising an imaginary hat to greet him.

"Say hello to Sebastian!" Vincent grinned, assisting little Aster in once again, petting the dog much to Sebastian's delight - only to playfully kick Sebastian on the behind. "Oops! Ohhhhh, ho! Up to mischief already, hm, Aster?" asked Vincent, smiling like an idiot.

This surprised the borzoi so much so that the little kick that Aster 'gave him' sent the poor thing on his head, soon returning the favor by slapping Aster on the wrist, causing it to fly backward and get caught in the younger puppet's strings.

"Ahh...See what happens?" Vincent said with a soft chuckle, carefully setting Ciel down on a nearby chair. He turned his attention back to the younger puppet, and attentively as he could, untangled it.

Looking over to Sebastian, who readily stood on the tips of his paws in anticipation, the toy-maker grinned, making Aster 'sneakily' crawl to the dog - thus making Sebastian walk backward.

Vincent went slowly at first, making the puppet crawl at a minimum speed for a bit until he went quicker, causing Sebastian to go slightly faster in the process...

Until Sebastian accidentally toppled down a few nearby steps, Aster 'looking' downward as the dog got up, awkwardly shaking his head.

Vincent let Sebastian stare at Aster for a moment until he managed to get Aster to look like he was looking back at the unsuspecting dog - and letting out a playful "BOO!"

Sebastian yelped, ducking out of sight, making Vincent laugh. "Up we go! Ah, you two are cute little fellas, aren't you?" Vincent asked with a grin, scooping Aster up and walking back to the counter, carefully setting it down next to his brother.

Just then, Sebastian had come back from his hiding spot. As Vincent rechecked his puppets - almost like a father would his own children, Sebastian trotted over to the man, licking his hands as he tried to 'talk' to the two marionettes.

"And that smile! You know I-"

He laughed, noticing the dog, and gave the black borzoi a loving pet. "You rascal! Jealous, huh?"

Sebastian eagerly looked to the two marionettes on the counter, panting excitedly as Vincent gave him a scratch behind the ears as if to ask if they could play.

"You know, boys, I think Sebastian is jealous of you!" Vincent said with a smile, before turning to Sebastian and patting the dog on the head. "Aha..haha~ don't worry, Sebastian. I just-"

Just then, one of the many hand-carved clocks on the wall went off...soon followed by the many others, surrounding said clock.

"Geez...I wonder what time it is..." Vincent mumbled softly, pulling out a pocket watch (that he made, just like the other clocks) and checking the time. "Oh dear, it's getting rather late, I see!"

The man shrugged, letting out a quiet yawn. "Come now, Sebastian, it's getting late. We must go to bed now. After all, we need to get up bright and early tomorrow to finish up the dollhouse I promised Miss Isabella would be done, right in time for little Josephine's birthday tomorrow afternoon!" he said, chuckling as Sebastian seemingly slowed his roll as soon as his owner mentioned the word 'bed.'

Smiling, now a bit tired, Vincent turned to the marionette twins. "Goodnight, boys." He reached over to the twin's playfully tapping their noses with a good-natured grin. "...Little funny faces..."

Just as Sebastian had turned a paw, and was about to go up the stairs to Vincent's bedroom, he was stopped by the man's voice-

"Sebastian, say goodnight to Ciel and Aster!"

The dog gave Vincent a seemingly annoyed look, before trotting over to the puppets, and giving each marionette a playful lick on the cheek.

"Thank you, Sebastian!" Vincent said with a laugh, making his way to the stairs. He motioned for the dog to follow him, and not before long - Sebastian came trotting after.

Vincent had just finished getting ready for the night and was currently sitting in his bed.

With a quill in hand, ink at his right on his nightstand, and his diary in his lap, he wrote about his day for a few minutes while Sebastian walked around, before finally settling down in his bed, curling up into a ball.

"Heh...They almost look alive, don't they, Sebastian...?" Vincent said suddenly. "Just like my dear Rachel, too. They have her eyes, don't you think? The most lovely shade of blue, eh?"

The borzoi looked up, clearly a bit sleepy.

"I was going to give them black hair, but then I thought about it...Blue has always been Rachel's favorite color. So I thought to myself, why not? And gave them blue hair - her favorite shade, too. Don't you think they look wonderful?"

Sebastian gave him a shrug, before resting his head once again, but still awake to listen to Vincent ramble on.

"I know it's silly, and dear, am I hopeless...But if I were to have children with Rachel, I'd like to think that this is what they would look like! We talked about that kind of corny stuff all the time...She even came up with names for our future children before she died. Ciel and Aster were both her favorite if we were to have boys! She told me she couldn't pick just one, so we came to a compromise. If we only had one boy, then his name would have been Ciel Aster or Aster Ciel. And if we had twins, then they'd be Ciel and Aster! Doesn't that sound grand?"

The big black dog yawned tiredly.

"Usually, it wouldn't have taken me so long to carve them, but I wanted to get them absolutely perfect...Personally, I don't think I could have done better! They look like her, and that's all that matters." He said, a yearning smile gracing his lips.

He stretched, writing down a few more words before setting his quill down. He let the ink dry, and carefully laid the journal down next to the feather and the well of ink on his bedside.

Vincent got up and went to fetch a drink, and came back a few moments later, glass in hand. He set it down and got back in - but not before leaning over to pet his beloved dog. "Wouldn't it be nice if they were real boys...?" He mumbled softly, chuckling as Sebastian panted happily from all the loving pets.

"Oh, well..." He got up and got into bed, leading Sebastian to lay back down as Vincent finally got a chance to rest his weary head on his sky-blue pillow. "It's time to go to sleep now..."

He carefully blew his candle out, and he yawned, rubbing his eyes as he got a chance to rest on the arm he always did, when sleeping.

And just like that, the room was dark, and the only thing that could be heard was the soft breath of sleep.

"Oh...Sebastian. I forgot to open the window..." Vincent said suddenly, opening his eyes and pointing to the window as he tried his best to hide his smirk.

The dog, clearly annoyed, gave the man an exhausted look...But begrudgingly got out of bed anyways.

He hopped onto Vincent's navy-blue quilted bed, and with his teeth, bit down on the window latched and pulled it open. He was about to get down, but that was when Vincent sat up rather quickly, his eyes wide and full of hope and wonder as he pointed at the window. "Oh, Sebastian, look!"

Vincent sat up, pointing directly at a star that shone much more radiantly than the others, shining like the rarest, most sparkly diamond on the earth. "A wishing star!"

In a flash, Vincent scrambled to his knees and folded his hands. "Starlight, star bright...first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish, I might...have the wish I make tonight."

He sat there for a few moments, smiling softly as a few tears welled up in his chocolate-brown eyes that soon seeped down his face like a waterfall. "Oh, Sebastian...Do you know what I wished for?"

The borzoi shook his head, letting out a tired yawn, but looked curious either way.

Grinning, the man leaned over to the dog, and in a soft whisper, told him exactly what he had wished for. "I wished that my little Ciel and Aster...might be real boys." He got back into bed and laid back down onto his pillow, just as Sebastian hopped down from his bed and put back down.

"Wouldn't that be nice...? Just think! - real boys!" He said wistfully, a tired smile on his lips as he gazed back up to the diamond-like star.

"Real...boys..." Vincent mumbled, just as he fell asleep.

Chapter 2: his wish is her command

Summary:

The Wishing Star, also known as the White Fairy - Angela, has heard Vincent's wish.

"Little puppets made of pine; wake!"

Chapter Text

It was 10:43 PM when a bright, beautiful white light traveled into Vincent's home, soon taking the form of a gorgeous, sparkling fairy.

The White Fairy, also known as Angela, smiled softly as she looked around the room. She looked over to Vincent and Sebastian, letting out a gentle sigh as she felt a pang of pity. At the same time, she ran a dainty hand through her beautiful lavender hair.

"Good Vincent, you have done so much to bring happiness to others...you deserve wholeheartedly to have your admirable wish come true..." she said aloud to the man, even though she knew for a fact he wouldn't hear her due to his tired, heavy slumber. "What a shame, really. If only your wife was still here - I heard you were very happy before this...well, no matter. That's just how life is, is it not? The good people have to wait an eternity to get something good, while the bad can get it instantaneously. The world is cruel..."

She gave Vincent and the dog next to him one last smile before making her way down the stairs and to the man's workshop, where she spotted the two marionettes that only a few hours ago, had finally been completed. "What cute little boys they are," Angela commented with a smile. "I'm sure they'll be fine sons - they'll just need some guidance, though. With new, innocent souls like theirs, with any sort of bad company, they'll be made to stray from the path of good..." she mumbled softly, thinking for a moment. "I cannot be here all the time, but until I can...find them a conscience, I suppose I'll try to come around, every now and again."

Angela smiled and walked up to the two puppets. She took the wand from her pocket and raised it above their heads. "Little puppets made of pine, wake!"

Gentle, she tapped them both on the head, a beautiful white glow encasing the two puppets, before finally fading - revealing the two dolls, er, boys...? awake!

Ciel stretched, an adorable little yawn escaping his lips as Aster rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists. The two boys looked around in pure wonder and confusion as they got their first look at the real world for the first time.

Shyly, Aster released his hands from fists and stretched them out for the first time before wiggling his fingers. "I can move!" The tiny, younger boy...marionette...? said, clearly surprised as he looked to his brother.

"I...You....-" Ciel's eyes widened. "We can talk!"

The older boy shakily got up onto his feet, pulling his little brother up as well. They managed a few steps together, before ultimately (and surprisingly - this was their first time, after all)

falling right back on their bottoms - earning a few giggles from the marionette twins.

Angela smiled warmly, and nodded. "Yes, boys, I've given you life."

The twins looked at the supernatural being, clearly confused. Why would they be given life...? How were they given life? Everything was just so confusing to new souls, like themselves!

"Why?" The two asked, cocking their heads.

"Because of tonight," Angela started, looking to the stairs that led to Vincent's bedroom. "Mister Vincent wished for a real boy!"

"Are we really boys?" Ciel asked, just as Aster nodded his head with a soft giggle escaping the younger's lips.

Angela shook her head, sighing. "No, Ciel. To make Mister Vincent's wish come true, it will be entirely up to you and your little brother," She explained.

"Up to us?"

"Prove yourself brave, truthful, and unselfish - and one day, you two WILL become real boys!"

Aster grinned, and took Ciel's hand, practically bouncing in pure joy. "Did you hear that, Ciel? If we work hard enough, we'll be real boys! Isn't that amazing?"

Ciel nodded, hugging the younger twin. "Uh-huh!"

"Boys, please pay attention, I know that this is exciting, but I have valuable information that you'll need to note before I leave for a while!" Angela said, cutting Ciel off before he could say any more - but not before apologizing for cutting him off in the first place. "You two will need to know how to choose between right and wrong, you know!"

"Right and wrong...? How will we know...? That sounds real hard, miss..." Ciel said, awkwardly looking down to his lap. "We're really new at this stuff. How will we know what to do at all?"

"Well, your conscience will tell you - that, and the good people around you, like your father, Vincent. I'll be dropping in later, hopefully with a new friend that shall always be able to be with you!"

"What's that?"

"A conscience...?"

"A conscience is a still small voice that tells you what to do. A lot of people don't listen to it, which I think is foolish - after all, it knows what is right and wrong!" Angela told the two. "But as I said before, I'll be getting someone to assist with that. I won't tell you in what form, but when the time comes, I promise it'll be obvious!"

"A new friend?"

"What kind of friend?"

"A good one," Angela promised with a smile. "But until that time, Aster, Ciel? Try to be good boys - and always let your conscience be your guides!"

And with one last beautiful glow of white and unearthly sparkle, the White Fairy had disappeared... like she had never even been there, in the first place.

The two boys stood there, understandably completely confused, and undeniably baffled.

What do you even do, after being left alone only five minutes after your birth?

Ciel looked around, before shakily getting himself down from the counter he and his little brother had been seated on. Once he had successfully gotten to the floor, he reached up to his hand to Aster and giggled. "Want some help, little brother? Together we can find Mr. Vincent!"

"Alright!" Aster chirped happily, readily accepting the older marionette's offer.

The younger held tightly onto Ciel's hand, gently leveraging himself onto the floor, next to his brother. "Didn't the White Fairy say that he wanted real boys or something? Does that make him our papa, Ciel?" Aster asked, cocking his head.

Ciel stood there for a second, lost in the question, bouncing on the balls of his feet and giving Aster a hearty nod. "Uh-huh! - at least I think that what he is...we should ask him!"

"Yes! But..." Aster paused for a second, letting out a soft sigh. He shook his head before looking back to Ciel with a frustrated look. " - We don't even know where he is! It's all dark, too...how are we even supposed to find him?"

Looking around, Ciel wondered how they could possibly find their supposed father through what they considered (and understandably so) a complete and total maze.

"Well, this place has lots of stuff - I'm sure we could find something to help us...or maybe even to catch his attention so that he'll come to us!" Ciel suggested, pointed to an array of items surrounded the two. "What do you think?"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! - Hopefully, we don't make him mad...I want him to be happy to see us, after all, it wouldn't be much fun if he was..."

"We'll be together, Aster, so trust me - we'll be fine!"

"How do you know?"

" 'Cause I'm older!"

Aster chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed his big brother's hand, pulling him away from the counter, wanting to explore the workshop. "Yeah, yeah - whatever you say!"

"But, it's true!"

"How?"

" 'Cause!"

"That doesn't prove anything, and you know it!"

"Yes, it does, Aster!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes-"

"No!"

Just then, footsteps from above the workshop could be heard, followed by frantic movement and a voice, along with some barking, much confusing the two marionettes. They looked at each other, not knowing what to do.

Were they in trouble?

Was something going to happen-

"Sebastian, shhh! Someone's here, and we don't know what it is...They could spring out of nothing!"

The twins shared a glance, grabbing each other's hands, and pulled each other close in fear.

Oh, dear.

What have they just gotten themselves into?

Chapter 3: little wooden-heads

Summary:

Vincent comes down the stairs, and...no, it can't be...?! His creations, the marionette twins he had finished only less than a few hours ago were now...alive?!

Finally comprehending what had just happened, he realizes that now, after years alone, he wasn't going to be alone anymore - parenthood here he comes!

Chapter Text

Vincent, understandably absolutely terrified, stood in the hallway leading to the workshop, almost completely frozen, a broom locked tightly in between his clenched fists.

He twisted his head to the side, trying his best to examine the wood-shavings covered room, to catch a glimpse of what could possibly have snuck into his shop that night!

"Ciel, what do we do-" Aster asked, not really comprehending (quite at all, anything, really) the situation at hand.

"I don't know! It's too...scary..." Ciel admitted, awkwardly pulling his younger twin brother closer to his side. He had barely been alive for an hour, and here he was, already wanting (and trying) to protect his younger brother...despite not really understanding the concept of what a 'brother' even was, let alone a 'little' one...Or even why they looked the same, for that matter!

To Ciel, though, despite not knowing why, he still...loved? Was that the word he was looking for? His younger brother. He wrapped his arm around Aster's side and held him close, all while looking for something...

What was he looking for?

Being a new baby soul, he obviously didn't know. But he was going to do something - he just had to! Something was coming, and he didn't want him to get hurt!

'Hurt...?' The older marionette thought, his little face twisting in confusion. 'What is...'hurt'...?' Well, no matter what happened, or what that even was, he'd still protect Aster...whaterver 'protecting' meant, anyways. "Shh..." he whispered softly, holding a wooden finger to his lips, before turning to the direction of the noise.

"Is anyone there?! Whoever you are, come out! It won't do you any good just to hide!" Vincent said, courage dripping throughout his voice, clearly ready for whatever had (what he thought, anyway) broke into his shop. "Come out! I'm not afraid of you!"

He looked around in the dark for a second or two before lighting a match.

looking around, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "You can't hide forever!"

Sebastian hopped down the stairs and galloped to his master. He was cocking his head to the side at the man as if awaiting instructions. He barked softly before earning a nod from Vincent.

"You look here, and I'll look over here, alright, old friend?" Vincent asked Sebastian, pointing in the opposite direction of his own.

Before going off, he gave the dog a gentle pat and turned a heel.

"C-Ciel...who is it?"

"I don't know..."

"Is he scary?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Oh, no...."

The younger puppet shuddered softly, strange, wet...what was even was it? Dripping down his cheeks., it ran down his face as he held onto his brother, struggling the urge to run, despite not being able to do it very well.

'Its gonna be ok...I have Ciel, right?' He thought, nervously wiping the wet stuff away from his eyes. 'But maybe...Is it him? Mister Vincent, that Miss Angela - the Fairy - had told them about earlier? Was he scared or something? Of them, maybe?'

Before he could think of anything else, he felt a sharp jab to his side, making the younger marionette gasp in shock. He quickly whipped around...only to see a...what on earth was that?

He stared at the thing before him, completely and utterly confused. Never in his short, short life had he ever seen such a creature!

The 'creature' before him was big - it had soft, black...what was that? It kinda looked like what Miss Angela had on the top of her head - him and Ciel too! But like, different! And unlike everyone else, the black stuff seemed to cover every inch of it!

Besides that, the other noticeable features of the 'thing' were it's enormous, golden eyes, long snout, and paws.

'How strange!' Aster thought, somehow mustering the courage to take a step forward to the thing, raising a shy hand to its head.

Rather than running off like the puppet had thought it would, it merely bowed it's head, almost as if it was inviting him to touch it! The small marionette reached over and cautiously moved it (more like a soft poke) - immediately drawing back as soon as he heard the voice yet AGAIN.

"Sebastian, boy! Did you find anything?!"

The dog nudged Aster a bit, forcing him out of his hiding spot.

Aster gasped softly, his glass eyes wide in shock, before managing to grab hold of his brother, who thankfully was able to pull him out of Sebastian's way

Ciel stared at It, obviously a bit confused by its presence before reaching out to touch it, as Aster had done only a bit earlier.

Before he could, Vincent had started making his way over to that area, clearly noticing that something...or someone was there.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Over here!" Ciel suddenly chirped, giggling as he pulled his brother his him down the aisle, finally coming into view of the lonely toymaker, who just...stared at the two puppets. In complete, absolute disbelief.

They all stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Ciel finally spoke up again-

"Hi!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"So let me get this straight...The White Fairy came?"

"Uh-huh!"

"She gave you two life?"

"Yeah!"

"H-How...? Why? I...this is all so strange! I...I don't deserve this!"

The younger, shyer twin, Aster, who had spent the majority of their first few minutes talking to each other for this first time huddled behind his older brother in fear, nervously stepped out from behind Ciel. "Uhm...well, Miss Angela said you did. That's why she made us um..." Aster stopped himself, forgetting the word.

"Come alive!"

"Ooooh, yes, yes! Alive!" The younger puppet nodded enthusiastically, smiling gently as Ciel helped, clearly thankful. "She said you did lots of good things for others...and your greatest wish was to make us real!"

"Well, we're not really real...yet."

"Mhm-hm!"

"What? But you're both clearly talking and walking! - Your both real as far as I can tell! Unless I'm going mad from the lack of human company..." Vincent said, giving Sebastian a look, before turning his head back to the two puppets before him. "What do you two mean? I mean, if you don't mind explaining..."

Ciel thought for a second, nodding with a smile as he rocked on his wooden heels. "I mean, we are real - I think? Just not...alive...no, wait...Not that!"

"Ciel, we are alive! Don'tcha mean we're not real boys? Like, not...uhm...I don't know what the word is..."

"Yeah, yeah! We're not real boys-"

"-Yet!" Aster chimed in, grinning broadly. "Miss Angela said that if we were really good, and did the right stuff, we'll become real!"

"Y...You'll become what?" Vincent asked, his brown eyes widened in shock. "Real boys?!"

The twins nodded.

Vincent stood there, soaking up all the new information like a sponge, half-numb from shock, and practically shaking like a wet leaf due to just...Gosh, all the overwhelming emotions!

So many thoughts swirled in his head. He could barely even concentrate!

He smiled like an idiot, shakily crossing his arms, just as Sebastian trotted to his master, noticing the profound change of emotions.

The dog looked over to the boys for a second before back to his master and circling him, before stopping near one of his hands, and started to lick it, to get his attention back. "ruff.....ack...!"

Was he ok?

He sure was acting strange - was it because of the two new things? What they were, Sebastian had no clue! Were they inanimate objects, like the rest in his master's workshop? Or were they like the human children that came in during the day?

So many questions, so little time!

"Huh?!" Vincent gasped, snapping out of it before finally noticing Sebastian, who had been desperately trying to get his attention for the last minute.

He smiled broadly at the big black dog and gave him a hardy pat.

Looking to the boys, and smiling even more full, trying his best to contain his overflowing joy, and overwhelming feelings of parental love that he never thought possible - but here he was, looking to his creations - no, sons! His SONS! Who were both quietly talking amongst themselves as they looked around the workshop, clearly very, very curious.

How was this even possible?

What had he done to deserve them?

He shook his head and smiled. "Even if you two didn't become 'real boys' in the end - whatever that means, it doesn't matter. In the end, you'll both always be my sons. I promise."

"I...huh? Really? It doesn't matter to you...?" Ciel asked, turning to his father, a smile matching his father's. "You reeeeeeally, really promise?"

"Really, you do, Father?" Aster chimed in, giggling softly as he hugged his older brother, looking to the man.

Vincent froze and teared up upon hearing the title for the first time. Never, ever, in his entire life had he ever thought that he'd get the privilege and honor of being called that by...his children...-never even thought that he'd have any after Rachel, and now..."I promise..."

"Ooooh! Also, also! Father! What's a promise?"

#black butler fanfiction

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an-aura-about-you · 2 years

Text

September 1st, 1997

Crossing the Bridge

Somewhere Else Under the King

In today's entry, Ministry of Occultism personnel are reinstated and Jon and Martin make plans to grieve:

“Are you kidding me, Trilby?!” Jim says as he barges into the office.

Trilby looks up from his work. “What?”

“The idol’s here? ” he asks. “In artefact storage?”

Trilby winces and says, “Yes.”

Jim claps his hands together. “Okay. Cool. When are we destroying it?”

“Never.”

“’Scuse me?” Jim says. “I must’ve heard you wrong.”

Trilby waves for Jim to sit. “We’re not destroying the idol.”

Jim yanks a chair back and takes a seat, folding his arms over his chest. “Trilby. You know what that thing can do. We both know what that thing can do. You better have an incredibly good reason for that, and I deserve to know what it is.”

Trilby sighs and shuffles his work around until he has Jackson’s book in front of him. Jim’s right. Everyone here needs to know, but if anyone deserves to know, it’s him. “Destroying the idol could lead to letting something worse into the world.”

Jim pulls his head back slightly in disbelief and asks, “Worse than the Welder?”

“How about a pain god?” Trilby responds.

Jim sucks in a breath, letting that sink in. Once it does, he makes a few tiny nods and goes, “Yeah, yeah that would be worse than the Welder. But we can’t keep it here, can we?”

“Right now, I’d rather know where it is than not,” Trilby says. “At least until I figure out what to do with it.” He makes a small, helpless shrug. “Any ideas?”

Jim hums at that and goes, “Sounds like the sorta thing you’d have a better idea about. If you don’t want anyone to touch or destroy it, how do you keep it outta reach?”

“You mean, what? Pretend like I’m going to steal it and then make that impossible?” Trilby asks.

“It’s an idea.”

Before Trilby can answer, there’s a knock on the doorframe. He and Jim turn at the sound, their new company standing in the open doorway. He doesn’t know the woman, but seeing as she’s with Alexander Yarrow, he guesses she’s likewise with the Ministry of Occultism. Yarrow lets his knuckles linger by the doorframe, his smile muted but his eyes faintly gleaming as they often do when he’s eager to get to work.

“I’m not interrupting anything urgent, am I, Trilby? Mister Fowler?” Yarrow asks.

“Yarrow,” Trilby says in a somewhat professional greeting. “I take it you’ve been cleared?”

“Welcome back,” Jim says. He waves to the woman. “Hey, Lyds.”

She nods and says, “Hey, Jim.”

“Would the two of you come join us in my office?” Yarrow asks. “Miss Jarvis and I have something important to discuss with you.”

Trilby looks to Miss Jarvis, the name clicking together now. Lydia Jarvis. AJ’s sister. Another pulled in because of DeFoe Manor. He should tell her about the idol as well, just as he did for Jim. So he nods, takes Jackson’s book, and stands to follow.

“Excellent,” Yarrow says when Jim likewise gets to his feet. “If all of you would please follow me.”

No one sits in Yarrow’s office. Yarrow is buzzing around, pinning photos up on a corkboard. The other three stand on the other side of his desk, the tension winding tighter as they watch him. He turns to them and smiles wide.

“Before our temporary shutdown, we received some promising news: key artefacts from DeFoe Manor have been found in a compound owned by the Order of the Blessed Agonies,” Yarrow tells them. “Specifically, we believe they’re holding artefacts tied to the entity that has been named John DeFoe.”

The three all visibly flinch.

“I thought you three would be the most eager to take them out of their hands,” Yarrow says before giving Trilby a pointed look.

“And I thought I wasn’t supposed to do that kind of work anymore,” Trilby says. “Not to mention I’m still recovering from a serious injury.”

“Plus he’s got another assignment,” Jim adds. “One that’s kinda important.”

“You’ll understand what I mean shortly,” Yarrow responds to Trilby. “You have a reputation we can use, and our agents can help take full advantage of it.”

“It will require some of your tools and training,” Lydia says. “Mainly for my part of the job.”

Trilby holds back a sigh and goes, “Fine. But if you’re taking me away from my current assignment, I’d appreciate some input on it.” He places the book on Yarrow’s desk. “We have John DeFoe’s soul, and it needs to be contained out of reach without being destroyed. I’m open to suggestions.”

Yarrow places a hand on the book, taking in what he’s looking at, and opens it at random. He briefly glances at Trilby before looking at the book again. “This is an older edition. Where did you get this?”

“Loaned by Jackson Lovelace,” Trilby answers.

Yarrow grins so wide his mouth opens. “You have a connection with Lovelace? Do you know what kind of information he might have on the Order?”

Trilby frowns and gestures to the book. “I have what I need. Besides, I don’t think he’ll be a reliable source of current information. He says he’s cut ties with the Order.”

“Still, it could be valuable,” Yarrow says.

Trilby holds back any expression. There’s a reflexive, unpleasant twist to being useful, but it’s also job security.

Yarrow continues with, “But it will have its time. First things first, retrieving the rest of John DeFoe’s artefacts.”

From there, Yarrow outlines his plan to the three.

Jon is a person again.

Legally speaking. Humanity-wise, he’s more of a person now than he had been for a good couple of years at least. But now he can do things he’s supposed to do like get a job, ideally one he chooses and not one forced upon him by the Ministry of Occultism. So here he is, sitting at his table looking at job listings while Martin sits across from him working on his poetry. He has a new appreciation for everything Martin’s had to do to get a job before, even if it meant lying on his CV. Knowing that he’s going to have to craft a history here is building into a daunting task.

No Magnus Institute, so he has to build a recent job history. No record or proof of his schooling, though he could probably use his minor abilities as an esper to assist his bluff. And references…

No Sasha. No Tim. No Georgie, Melanie, Basira, hell, no Daisy, not even Rosie-

He puts the listings down, his heart heavy.

Martin looks up from his work. “Alright, Jon?”

Jon takes a breath and nods. “Yes, just… wondering how many times we’re going to feel what happened.”

Martin somberly nods back. “There are things we hadn’t finished feeling there.” He flips his pencil out of his hand, letting it clatter on the table. “That’s one hell of a funeral to plan.”

Jon’s heart tightens under its weight. He hates that Martin’s no stranger to that, hates that he was in a coma when it happened, hates that Martin probably expected to plan another funeral anyway. And now they both have an entire world to mourn.

“I guess the small mercy is there’s only so much we can take in at one time,” Jon murmurs. “A lot of little griefs are a bit different than trying to conceptualize the whole thing at once.”

“Maybe we should do something?” Martin suggests. “Though now that I’ve said that, not really sure what I’d wanna do for something like this. Not exactly in the mood for any big to-do for it.”

“You’ve got a point, though,” Jon says. “Maybe it’ll-” He rolls a hand in front of him. “-clear out some of the grief so not as much of it sneaks up on us later.”

Martin picks up his pencil again. “What do you do? When you’re grieving, I mean?”

“Me?” Jon asks.

He thinks back to every loss he’s had as an adult, losses he knew when he had a more complete idea of the concepts of death and grieving. Those spaces in between working and stalking and planning and dying when all he had were the thoughts he knew were his own. There is no miraculous answer waiting there, nothing remarkable, just the routine survival he came to know as everyday life. Sometimes it was slow as a dirge, but more often than not it was frantic and perfunctory and finished in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t know,” Jon answers Martin. “I think I’m overdue on it. Or maybe I just always was and I didn’t know it because it just folded into my life. Maybe some of it came out with everything that happened the night before? I knew, either way, it was going to be some kind of end.”

“That sounds familiar,” Martin replies. He taps his pencil a few times before sighing. “Y’know, we don’t need to make it complicated. We can pick a night, get some comfort food, maybe some drinks, and be sad about it for an hour or three. What’s gonna happen, we learn this world’s got funeral police or something to tell us we’re not doing our memorial properly? Honestly, if things worked out and anyone from our old world did a memorial for me, I hope they just met up in a pub or like a nice restaurant and said a couple of nice things about me before anyone got too drunk.”

Jon puts a hand on the table. “You know what? That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“Really?” Martin replies.

“Why not? Why make grieving more complicated than it already is?” Jon picks up the job listings again. “I should probably do something like that before I apply to any of these jobs. I wonder if Claire would be willing to help me find something if I don’t want a job with the Ministry or the STP.”

Martin stills the pencil in his hand. “About that.”

“Yes, Martin?”

Martin takes a deep breath, sets the pencil down, and folds his hands over his notebook. “Okay, so, this is kinda new territory because I’ve never had a relationship before this one that got serious enough to the point that we talked about money. And I never thought I’d ever be able to say this, but we’re good, Jon. On money.”

Jon lowers the job listings again. “I know you have a job, Martin, but I should still be doing something.”

But Martin shakes his head and goes, “I mean, I’m not saying you shouldn’t. I know you, you wouldn’t be happy just doing nothing all day. But it’s not exactly an immediate concern for us to get by. A-and might never be. So if you’re fine with that, you can look for something you actually want to do?”

Jon puts the job listings back on the table. “I didn’t know poetry was so lucrative.”

Martin exhales through his nose. “Okay. There’s not really a good way to say this, but it should probably be said: my boss has a crush on me.”

It possibly takes Jon longer than it should, mainly from the mild confusion of thinking of himself as ‘boss with a crush on Martin’ as a sort of default, but it does sink in with him making a startled, “Oh!”

“Yeah. He hasn’t acted on it outside of more or less just giving me money, but am I ever going to have a job where I don’t have to deal with an inappropriate boss/employee relationship?” Martin wonders aloud. “His ex ghosted him, so I’m chalking this up to him having a rebound crush on me.”

“Do you want to leave that job?” Jon asks.

“Maybe? We could afford it if I do at this point,” Martin answers. “Do you want me to leave the job?”

“I don’t know. Yes? If it makes you uncomfortable.” Jon presses his hands to the bridge of his nose. “Is it because of that projection I did?”

“No, he’s been like this since we met. Between that and the projection, I had been wondering if we somehow landed in a world where I’m actually considered handsome?”

“It’s not like I can answer that; how would I know the difference?” Jon asks.

Martin opens his mouth to answer when Jon’s words catch up to him. “Did you just do that?”

“What?”

Martin props his elbow on the table and leans his head against his hand. “Is this just how you flirt? I feel like we kind of skipped that stage.”

“Oh, was that- I said it wrong for that, then,” Jon says, dropping his hands. “It wasn’t, because flirting has intention.”

Martin shrugs and says, “I’ll accept my boyfriend just casually implying I’m handsome, then. Easier to accept than a lot of things.”

“I think you were right before: we’ll cross the bridge when we get to it,” Jon tells him.

Martin chuckles, dry. “Kinda regret using that phrase now that we know about the Book of the Bridge.”

Jon hums. “We never did finish that. But then, we know how it happened for us.”

Martin nods in agreement. He then gets up, places a hand on top of Jon’s, and leans in for a brief kiss. “Why don’t I get some tea on for us, love?”

“Good idea,” Jon answers.

Where We Meet

by M.K. Blackwood

We’ve let some space in Now we have to learn to cross it

I take a step, and I’m halfway there I take another step, and I’m a different halfway there Will you meet me there or will Zeno have a good laugh at our expense?

I see you take a step, and you’re halfway there but not my halfway there still out of reach but I see your arm straining out towards me

We keep moving closer smaller and smaller halfway theres until the space is in our hands the distance of atoms keeping us apart but still another halfway there

But I won’t stop until the space is gone I won’t stop until we reach the place where we meet and we’re holding each other again

#tma #chzo mythos #aura's fanfiction #on this day in aura's tma/chzo mythos fanfiction

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autisticcassandracain · 3 years

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Tbh I really don't care for this new trend DC seems to be going with where instead of hero mantles being passed on everyone is just sharing them all at once. Like, from the top of my head, they're doing it with Blue Beetle (Jaime Reyes and Ted Kord), Robin (Damian Wayne and Tim Drake, though Tim is kinda entering identity limbo from what I understand), Batgirl (Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon on and off again), and DC announced Aquamen not too long ago which will have Jackson Hyde and Arthur Curry presumably sharing the mantle, and I'm sure I'm missing more.

Like it's not that hero mantles were never shared pre-flaspoint (Mister Miracle has been shared by Shilo Norman and Scott Free for quite some time now), but it was definately rare. Now, it seems to be pretty much a go-to for any legacy character. And like. Idk. It feels like the coward's way out to me.

To me passing on a mantle is far more interesting than sharing it, most of the time. Especially with mantles that are explicitly intended to be temporary or frequently passed on like Robin and Batgirl, it feels like the coward's way out. Rather than putting in the effort to create good solo identities, they'd rather just revert characters to the point most of their fans liked the best, like Cass and Steph as Batgirl and Tim as Robin. It's also probably a large part of the reason they keep waffling between Batgirl and Oracle for Babs; they want to have their cake and eat it to by pleasing both Babsgirl and Oracle fans.

And then there's the case of mantles that USED to be lagacy mantles because one character died or retired but another took over, like Jaime and Ted. And with the reboot ressurrecting and resetting a lot of characters, you end up with the problem where the fan-favourite interpretation or even the only interpretation of multiple characters are now the same character. So you just make them share it.

But in legacy mantles that... doesn't really work usually. A lot of the time, those legacy mantles are compelling BECAUSE they were passed on; Jaime wouldn't have been half as compelling to me if Ted was still alive to guide him in his 06 solo. Again, it reeks of DC trying to have their cake and eat it too.

Like idk I don't have much issue with mantles like Aquaman, which to my knowledge has never really been shared, being shared, but when it's legacy mantles specifically established as such being shared I just. Don't like it. A big part of why legacy mantles work is the fact that they are passed on; it gives meaning to see new characters take a mantle and make it their own. And there's no real reason that can't be done while sharing the mantle, but when it was originally done specifically as a mantle that was passed on from one person to another, and then they decide to retroactively just make the predecessor come back and claim it again and share it it just. Looses all meaning to me.

#My posts #Long post #Infodumping #Cassandra cain #Stephanie brown #Barbara gordon #Jaime reyes #Ted kord

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lotzzoforangezoutside · 3 years

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111 X-Files fanfic, w/ summaries

It’s always been hard to write summaries, especially since my fics are so short to begin with. The Original Series stories are my spin on the X-File canon, base on the notion that we don’t see everything and only see what Mulder and Scully want people to see. Most of the time the fics happen within the same universe, but they’re complete fine to read as standalone stories. AU are in the world where alien/time travel/fountain of youths/mermaids/unicorns exist, but Mulder and Scully are still very much Mulder and Scully (Notable exception here would be “D.W. Mulder, FBI”).

Lastly, Cricket Universe is set after the revival, where William comes home, Mulder and Scully have a baby girl, Kuiper a.k.a. Cricket, and William’s BFF Michiko a.k.a. Millie. It’s written as standalone stories and not in chronological order.

So, here we go & thanks so much for reading :)

Original Series:

The Sandwich: Post-Tooms

Thaw: Who the hell is Scott?

Their Normal Outlaw Life: a normal day for life on the run, post s9.

The Sunflower State: Post-Rain King

012194: How Mulder got his first hug.

Lull: Post-Detour

Wait: Post-Dreamland II

A Thousand Years: Post-Millennium

Ties: All about Mulder’s ties

Sleeping Bag 2.0: Mulder got Scully a gift.

Mister Lonelyhearts: Post-Milagro

Minus 20: Post-Je Souhaite

Visiting Angel: a trip to the zoo!

(sequel: Animal House)

To the Radio Star: the Good O’ Blockbuster Days.

This or That: "Scully, would you rather?"

The Fox Mulder Show: Post- Arcadia

Like Mother, Like Son: Mulder bugs Scully for a dinner invitation.

(sequel: Birthday Dinner with Boy Mulder)

Fancy: Post-X-Cops

Cookies and Milk: Mulder and Scully have some cookies.

Dead Butterflies: Post-One Son

The Heart and the Mind: Post-season 7, Mulder returns.

Small Fries: Post-Small Potatoes

Friday: Pre-Monday

Out with the Boys: Post-First Person Shooter

Before the Nice Forest Trip: Pre-Darkness Falls

The Long Way: Post-Emily

The Cut: a typical afternoon in the basement office, set in s1.

The Hypocrite: Scully has trouble sleeping. Mulder comes to the rescue!

The Fifth Year: "Hey Scully, come meet me at the Y?"

By Two: Post-Folie à Deux

The Game: Post-Never Again

The Joker: Post-Triangle

After the Fight: Post-Fight Club

Holmes and Watson: talk about the dynamic duos.

Woodchuck Day: Post-Je Souhaite

When You Stand They Fall: A snippet of their life on the run.

AU:

My Favourite Boys: Time machine story inspired by Gregg and Angus

In the Woods: Pre-XF story inspired by While autumn is still here…

The Spring of St. Augustine: Fountain of Youth story inspired by little

Going Down Swinging: Uncle Bill sulking at a party, inspired by little

And Then There Were Ten: William brings home some people to meet his parents.

Always Be My Baby: AU where Emily lives!

Lessons: Life in the pandemic times

Fox Mulder the Story-Teller: Mulder tells his little girl a story.

On A-B229: Alien planet story inspired by Seahorses

Another World: Another alien planet story inspired by Seahorses

Half Life: Homage to Ranma ½

The Client at Two O’clock: 3rd person POV, Mulder seeks some assistance.

Qilin: Mulder has been missing for months. A reunion story.

The Delivery: Jackson rights a wrong.

D. W. Mulder, FBI: Mulder is a woman.

Childhood Friend: "What's your earliest memory?"

All the Mulder’s Girl: Mulder's chooses a new life after Scully returns from her abduction.

Cricket Universe

Name: Jackson's new name

Second: a late-night chat

Shaken: Jackson meets with Scully

Song: Memory is a power thing.

The Drawing: William draws a picture.

Speak: William teaches Cricket how to talk.

Family Treasures: Cricket and William goes trick-or-treating.

Special: Two friends meet as alien invasion nears.

Not Yet: William talks to his friend Millie about his mom and dad.

Naps: Typical afternoon at the Scully-Mulders.

Know Again: Mulder and Scully chat about William's little friend.

Game Nite: Game night at the Scully-Mulders.

William Explains Teen Slang: William explains teen slang.

2028: William makes a delivery.

Friends: William does the dishes with Dad.

Dance: Cricket takes dancing lessons.

W-A-L-K: A typical morning for Mom and Dad.

Scary Monsters: William explains why his parents were banned from an amusement park.

Charis: Cricket is upset.

Fox Mulder, Father Extraordinaire: Fox Mulder is a Father Extraordinaire.

Heinrich’s Hallmark +

The Feature Presentation: Mother's day in the Cricket Universe.

Lunch at One-Twenty-Five: Scully have lunch with a friend.

Snacks: Trying out new food is always fun.

An Ordinary Visit: Mulder and Scully visit a temple.

Bread and Butter: Another typical afternoon at the Scully-Mulder's.

Donut: William makes a new friend.

Worth A Thousand Words +

Mulder’s New Toy: The selfie stories.

Animal House: A day at the zoo!

Anything You Can Do: A day at the beach!

Parental Controls: Mulder learns something new.

Fit for a King: A name is a name is a name...

Tadpole: Shopping with Dad.

Meet the Parents: A teacher's observation.

In the Sky: The true meaning of F.M.

Yo-kai (1/3) |

Yo-kai (2/3) |

Yo-kai (3/3) : A nice trip to the forest.

Here are two ‘series’ where they span from both OG & Cricket Universe:

#the list #long version #done july 1 #with summaries #masterlist #x-files fanfic #fanfic #the x files #111 stories

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xbaepsae · 4 years

Text

the ebb and flow | part six

“You’re trying really hard not to laugh. But it’s difficult to suppress laughter when the situation calls for it. So, for probably the first time ever, you laugh in front of Jeon Jeongguk.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 2k

rating: pg-13

warnings: language, the usual character tension, a brief moment of softness??

a/n: hi it’s been quite a while since my last update. but i really hope you enjoy this chapter :) xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fourth summer – in which there is an inspection

The last week of summer at camp is always a memorable one—be it the late nights by the beach or the insane amount of chaos that seems to ensue every year.

For example, last summer, there was a monster that managed to break through the barrier. Fortunately, everyone was able to react promptly, and the monster was sent to Tartarus; at least, that’s what you think happened. At the end of the day, you’re just happy it hasn’t happened again since then.

This summer as the new camp counselor for your cabin—after Jinyoung so graciously handed you his title before heading off to New Rome—has been an interesting one; and least to say, you’re going to miss your little legion of cabinmates. It’s been fun leading them around—to greatness, of course.

But before summer can truly end, you need to make it to your last Senior Counsel meeting of the season.

Running to the Big House, you rush into the Rec Room with hopes that you’re not the only person who’s behind schedule. You hate that the one morning you oversleep is the one morning you have somewhere to be. In the Rec Room, you notice that all of the other Head Counselors have already arrived.

“Why, y/n, thank you for joining us,” Mr. D’s mouth curves into a frown.

You wince. “Sorry for running late.”

“You’re only a few minutes late,” Chiron waves his hand. “Take your place, y/n.”

Bypassing your grumpy camp director, you take your seat in-between Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok around the dingy ping pong table. The son of Ares offers you a narrow look—probably still upset you snatched his flag from underneath his nose last week—which you return with the same enthusiasm. “Can I help you, Park?”

“Don’t mind mister grouchy-pants over there,” Hoseok suddenly speaks up. “He clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Not all of us can wake up as chipper as you, Hobi,” Jimin uses the son of Apollo’s infamous nickname.

“Well, I can’t help it if the sun makes me happy.”

“Everything makes you happy. It’s quite sickening, actually.”

Quickly, you realize that this little banter could seriously get out of hand. Luckily, you’re not the only one. Chiron takes a quick look at them and clears his throat. “That’s enough you two; we only have one week left of summer.”

“And there’s much you heroes have to do,” Mr. D adds, popping the tab of his Diet Coke. “I cannot wait for you little vermin to be gone; except for you, y/n…you never seem to want to leave.”

“I would if I could,” you roll your eyes. “I guess we’ll just be stuck here together.”

“Speaking of things to do,” Chiron changes the conversation, “there is one major thing left to be done before the end of summer.”

“Are we throwing a party?” Kim Seokjin asks, hair and face looking as perfect as ever.

Chiron frowns. “No, and there better not be anything of the sort happening in Cabin Ten.”

For a moment, you swear the son of Aphrodite’s eyes are shimmering. “Of course not, unless you want to throw us a party. A party seems fun.”

“A party does seem fun,” Chiron suddenly agrees. “We haven’t had one of those in a while…”

Seokjin’s eyes grow wider. “I want huge balloons and an extravagant display table. Also, is there any way to hire a DJ? No offense, but lyre playing is so ancient.”

“That could probably be arranged…” Chiron trails off, like he’s not even aware of what he’s saying.

“Cut it with the Charmspeak, Lim Sejin.”

The son of Aphrodite’s eyes whip to Dionysus. “It’s Kim Seokjin, Mr. D.”

“Lim Sejin, Kim Seokjin—same thing,” the god of wine rolls his eyes. “But seriously kid, cut it out. We’ve got serious business to attend to.”

“Fine,” Seokjin crosses his arms. “As you were saying, Chiron?”

Chiron blinks a few times. “Oh, yes—the major thing that must be done is cabin inspection.”

The entire Senior Counsel seems to tense at that. It’s not that everyone is a total slob, but cabin inspection is so tedious. There’s a reason it’s only done once in a while. And sometimes, you do end up finding some disgusting beds. The Hermes Cabin is always questionable. You’ve never had to do cabin inspection, and you don’t plan on it.

“Are there any volunteers?” Chiron continues. “You all know two counselors need to perform the tasks.”

As Chiron says that, everyone starts to look at Kim Taehyung. When he realizes that you’re all looking at him, he begins to shake his head aggressively. “No way—I did inspection last time. Besides, I’m busy with the Pegasi—I don’t have time to check all the cabins.”

He is right—the son of Zeus does have a lot of other responsibilities. But you all looked at him first because he is just so good at taking on different tasks.

“Okay, so excluding Taehyung…any volunteers?” Chiron asks again. No one dares to look at him. “Come on, heroes. There are worse things to do here.”

While there is some truth to that statement, no one budges. But for some reason, you feel compelled to offer your service? The thought of coming into contact with stinky socks is less than ideal, but you want to prove to Chiron and Mr. D that you’re serious about being Head Counselor of your cabin. And you want to make your mother proud.

So, almost subconsciously, you raise your hand. “I’ll do it, Chiron.”

Everyone’s head swivels toward you. Surprise and interest simultaneously mares their faces. Even Mr. D looks shocked that you spoke up—his Diet Coke spilling from his hand.

“Great, y/n!” Chiron exclaims. “Anyone want to join her?”

“I’ll do it.” For the first time today, your eyes look in his direction. Jeon Jeongguk stares back at you with his signature smirk plastered onto his dumb face. “I’ll help y/n out with cabin inspection.”

Chiron hums, probably wondering why your sworn enemy is offering to assist you. “Interesting. You may join her, Jeongguk.”

“I’ll gladly take anyone else but Jeon,” you groan. “Chiron don’t make us do inspection together. Please.”

“You’ll be fine, y/n. It’s just one day of cabin inspection. It’ll be fun.” Chiron says as he moves onto the next topic, something about the dining pavilion.

“Come on, y/n,” Jeongguk taunts with a smile. “It’ll be fun.”

***

It’ll be fun, they said.

Walking towards Cabin One with your clipboard, you turn around and watch as Jeongguk slowly follows behind you. In his hand, he carries his own clipboard and pen. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Sure, captain,” he mock salutes you, pen now hanging out of his mouth.

You roll your eyes and continue towards Zeus’s cabin. Once you’re in front of the white marble structure, you take in the columns and bronze decorations. Cabin One is the biggest of all the cabins—to reflect Zeus’s position as King of Olympus; you don’t think you’ll ever get over the robust columns and cold exterior.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“Shut it, Jeon,” you order, knocking on the door. It opens mid-tap, revealing a smiling Taehyung. He opens the door wider, allowing you both to walk in.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the son of Zeus says, revealing a pretty empty cabin.

You notice a few beds in the corner, but that’s about it for the furniture. In the middle of the room, boasts a rather intimidating statue of the god of thunder himself. The statue seems to stand ten feet tall, and you wonder how Taehyung can even stand to live in such a space. You voice this thought out loud, to which only seems to make the son of Zeus rumble with laughter.

“I’m just used to it, I guess. The others don’t mind either.”

Walking around the room, you can’t help but give Cabin One a perfect score—if anything, you feel like it’s almost too pristine in here. Looking over your shoulder, you notice Jeongguk giving the same score.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” you ask, not waiting for Jeongguk to give you an answer before you’re walking away.

The two of you bypass Cabin Two—which belongs to Hera herself and means no one lives there—and make your way towards Cabin Three. You allow Jeongguk to walk in front of you—since this is his place, after all—and you don’t miss the way sweat begins to bead along his brow.

“I hope for your sake, the cabin’s clean,” you remark, to which he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sure my siblings cleaned up…” he trails off, seemingly unsure of his own words.

Jeongguk opens the door of the gray sea-shelled building and reveals a dark interior. His half-siblings are nowhere to be found, probably off doing their activities. You follow Jeongguk inside and watch as he switches the lights on. For the first time, you take in the glowing walls and the ceiling that makes the cabin appear as it’s underwater. There is also a fountain that looks like a fish in the room; and as you’re staring at the water sprouting from its mouth, you see it.

The last bed in the row is trashed—the sheets have been haphazardly thrown everywhere and clothes hang from each corner like a monster rolled through the space or something. On the floor beside the bed, there are even more clothes and random things; like miniature figurines of Hippocampi and other sea creatures.

You don’t realize it, but your mouth had dropped open. “Styx…who’s bed is that?”

Slowly, you turn to face your enemy. You expect him to be ready with a snide comment, except he seems at a loss for words. Jeongguk’s face is devoid of color and he looks absolutely horrified. You put two and two together, realizing that the trashed bed belongs to him.

“I am going to kill them,” he barely says above a whisper. For a second, you almost feel kind of bad for the son of Poseidon; then again, why should you feel bad for him? You don’t even like him. “When I asked them to clean up, I didn’t mean for them to give me all of their shit!”

You’re trying really hard not to laugh. But it’s difficult to suppress laughter when the situation calls for it. So, for probably the first time ever, you laugh in front of Jeon Jeongguk. It starts off as simple air passing between your lips, but soon morphs into something full-bellied as you feel laughter vibrate throughout your whole body.

He looks at you with wide eyes—probably thinking you’ve lost your mind—but you can’t help it. You can barely muster the words, “T-This is gold.”

As you shut your eyes, tears practically fall from them as you continue to laugh, you miss something. You miss the way Jeongguk’s wide eyes soften a bit as he continues to stare at you. The softness doesn’t last long, and you probably wouldn’t have caught it because his gaze becomes sharp in a blink, but it was there. It was real. Though he would never admit it to you.

“Shut up,” he says instead, which gradually sobers you up. “This is humiliating.”

You nod. “Oh, absolutely.” This causes Jeongguk to frown. “And I am so giving you a terrible grade for this.”

Focusing back on the task at hand, you give Cabin Three a big fat one out of five—much to the disappointment of a certain cabin member. As Jeongguk grades himself, you raise an eyebrow when he gives himself a modest score of three.

“What?” he asks, feigning ignorance.

“Three? C’mon, Jeon,” you roll your eyes. “You must see the destruction that is your bed.”

He scrunches his face. “But it’s not even my mess!”

You give him a look; one that says don’t fuck around right now. And it seems to work because Jeongguk, albeit begrudgingly, changes the three next to his cabin to a one. By the time he looks up again, you’re already halfway out the door.

“Come on, Jeon; we don’t have all day!”

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irishmacguirefucker · 4 years

Text

Meeting Tilly Jackson

A.N: (So originally this was going to be for my au but I realized that if I wanna write Tilly in my AU i need to properly understand her background. We don't have a lot of specific details in the game, so i wrote this. Essentially its how Dutch found Tilly and took her in. She’s 14 in this. I will probably have a part 2 soon. Its a little dialogue heavy)

(TW: Sexual Assault of a minor is mentioned but nothing happens, blood)

Wordcount: 3110

Tilly Jackson has a family. They may be a little odd, different than what everyone else might consider a family, but a family nonetheless. Dutch and Hosea her father figures, Susan Grimshaw a motherly presence. Sisters in Karen, Mary-Beth and the other women of the camp, brothers in Arthur and John and most of the other men. The titles don't matter so much as the feeling of safety and comfort and appreciation among them. She missed her late mother of course, but she hoped on some level her mother would be happy with how things turned out for the girl in the end. Being kidnapped at the age of 12 was nothing short of traumatizing, and for a long while, things only got worse. The Foreman gang was the opposite of a family. They were nothing to her but the people who stole her away from her mother claimed to own her. The ones who tried to take advantage of her. The night that Malcolm Foreman tried to make advances on her and she killed him was the night she would consider herself grown.

She's not sure exactly how long she was alone, it must have been under a year. She went to find her mother only to hear of her death, and with nowhere else to go she just kept running. The further she made it the less likely that Anthony Foreman would find her and pay her back for what she did to his cousin. She knows that it was early spring when she left. The snow had barely been off the ground, she supposed that no longer being wrapped in a ratty cloak and scarf was the reason that gang member thought to make his move.

Dutch found her just when it was beginning to get cold again.

Despite considering herself grown, her body disagreed. The shoes she ran away in were already ill-fitted, and by that autumn they were practically falling apart. Her toes stuck out the front. She had done her best to steal clothing off people’s clotheslines, but they rarely fit.

Dutch caught her doing just that. He had been watching the property of some well off folks, planning on casing it with Arthur later that week. He watched as a girl no older than 14, snuck out from the tree line in a torn-up blouse and a too-long skirt.

She was clearly not experienced in stealing as she tripped over her skirts up the property, but she made it to the side of the house mostly successfully. She quickly tore down a long dress and an undershirt and quickly started back to the tree line. She stared wistfully at the property's large orchard and nearly turned her course towards it before hearing the owner of the house open his front door and stealing away into the forest. Even from a distance, Dutch knew what that hesitation meant. She was hungry.

Dutch was hardly one to let a promising little thief like her starve in the forest, so with a passing glance at the house he stood from his hiding spot up the hill and mounted the Count.

Tracking was never one of Dutch’s strongest abilities but she made it rather easy, with footprints in the mud, a scrap of fabric where her clothing caught a branch, etc. Eventually, he reached a spot where she seemed to trip and fall, and then there were a few drops of blood here and there as he followed. He knew he was getting closer, the blood wasn’t dry. He dismounted his horse and began leading him forward when suddenly she jumped out from behind a tree wielding a large rusted hunting knife.

“Don’t come any closer! You can take your clothes back, here.” She kicked over the items he had just watched her steal. “Don’t tell the law, and I’ll disappear. I don’t have anything more to offer you.”

Dutch grinned, she was strong-willed. But he also observed that her cheeks were sunken in, and her skin was dull. She was visibly malnourished, and there was blood dripping from one of her small hands. He hoped it was a branch she cut herself on and not that dirty knife of hers.

He put his hands up in a friendly gesture.

“I’m not the man you robbed earlier, don’t you worry. I watched you steal that dress, you’re quite the little thief.”

She was doing a damn good job of hiding her fear, but Dutch was experienced in seeing past such facades. She didn’t seem scared of the weapon she was holding, as the young and inexperienced often were when they wielded such an item. She just seemed scared of him.

“Why did you follow me, it ain’t your things I stole. I have nothing to give you, so you best just leave me be.” She didn’t stutter, her high pitched voice remained unwavering and strong. Dutch tried his best to look unthreatening, something he didn’t find himself having to do often.

“Well, I myself was planning on robbing that house myself later with a few of my friends, perhaps I just wanted to see if you had any advice for me as a seasoned visitor of that property.”

She didn’t believe him and didn’t lower her knife, but she didn’t run either. Good. “Now if I reach for something in my saddle bag here are you gonna come at me with that big old knife?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

Dutch smiled. “Well if you and I are gonna talk business I thought that maybe I could pay you for your time, little lady.”

She finally lowered the knife a little, seeming less afraid but very suspicious. “You wanna pay me for information on that house?”

“I do. Information is worth a lot to us outlaws, you should know that well Darlin’” He slowly turned to the horse. Even if she did attempt to stab him, she wouldn’t get to him before he could turn around, so he wasn’t worried. As he was digging through the saddlebag she spoke up behind him.

“Don’t call me Darlin.”

He smiled at her bravado but kept looking through the bag. “Well, you’ve yet to give me something else to call you Miss. Ah! Here it is!” He turned back to her holding a small stack of cash and a wrapped parcel.

“Yeah, well neither have you!” There’s that reminder that he’s talking to a child. They’re always so petulant. John had been just the same, though a little more rabid. “Well, I’m Dutch, Dutch Van der Linde.”

He studied her face for any sign of recognition, but there was none. Good, less reason for her to be afraid of him. She didn’t give her name just yet.

“Are you with the Foreman brothers?” She asked boldly. “I won’t let you take me back, I’ll kill you before you get me back there.” That would explain her fear, she wasn’t just a thief. She was a runaway from another gang.

“Now I’ll tell you right now Miss, I’m not with Anthony Forman or his little gang. The only gang I’m with is the Van der Linde gang, and I promise me and mine won’t bring you any harm.”

“You...You lead a gang?” She was shaking, it was starting to get colder as the sun was setting.

“I am, but we aren’t like those bastards you knew. We’re just good people, looking to live free.”

Then he did something bold, a gesture to help her feel safer in the presence of a gang leader. Hopefully, she would be a little more at ease. “Do you mind if I sit down Miss-”

“Jackson. Tilly Jackson.”

He smiled. “Miss Jackson. Do you mind if I sit while we talk? Tracking you was quite a little adventure.”

“Go ahead, I guess.”

“Thank you, Tilly.” He sat down on a log just to the side, and she lowered her weapon fully but gripped it tight. “Now, go ahead and take this.” He took a couple of bills and tucked them into the string around the parcel. She stared at it suspiciously.

“I didn’t tell you nothing yet and I ain’t stupid mister Van der Linde, why are you giving me this.”

He smiled and leaned forward to place the parcel on the ground in front of him, between them.

“As I said, you’re quite the thief and I think you could help me out. Doesn't hurt to butter up the informant. There's some food in the package, I thought you looked a little hungry.”

She seemed to stare at the parcel longingly and something clenched in Dutch’s cold heart. The poor girl must be starving.

“I…I don’t have no info for you, Mister Van der Linde. I just needed the clothes.” She seemed disappointed to be saying it, but she didn't lie to him like he thought she might.

“Well...maybe you could just keep me company then Milady. Good company is hard to find among us outlaws, as I’m sure you know.”

In a flash, she was back two steps and her knife was raised once more.

“I ain’t that kind of girl. you can keep your fucking money and go pay a real whore for your damned “company’”

This was the opposite of the outcome he was looking for, and entirely at the fault of his own poor word choice. He should have known better, there are only a few things that can happen to a young girl in this country to put her on the run and make her fear good company.

“Now listen here, Miss Jackson. I am not that kind of man, I wouldn’t take advantage of you like I’m sure the bastards in Foreman’s gang tried. It’s like I said it, my gang is just good men looking for freedom and money. You can leave right now if you want and I won’t stop you, or you can stay and eat some, and I promise I won’t even look at you funny.”

She stood frozen, knife gripped tight. She seemed to be weighing her options. Dutch had yet to pose a threat to her, his weapons remained holstered. He hadn’t even tried to come close to her. She steeled her nerves and spoke again.

“Then...Give me one of your guns. If you really ain’t gonna try nothing then give me one of your pistols and if you try and do anything bad I’ll shoot you.”

In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have even considered it. But this wasn’t some criminal who he was wringing for information. This was a terrified little girl who was too afraid of the man in front of her to even eat food when she was starving. He slowly reached for his left holster and pulled out the pistol. He made a big show of flipping it in his hand so that his finger stayed away from the trigger as not to scare her, and he placed it beside the parcel. Gently he pushed them both over with his foot and sat back on the log with his hands beside him.

She stared at him, and quick as lightning she grabbed the items from the ground. She backed up to her spot and slowly sat on the ground. The pistol was too big for her hand, and her other hand was getting blood on the side of the wrapped meat. Slowly she unwrapped the piece of dried venison, not breaking eye contact with the man sitting before her. “Why are you being so kind to me, I ain’t never heard of a ‘Good’ outlaw, we’re all just killers and thieves.”

He took note of the word ‘we’ before killers and thieves. Perhaps there was a reason she was so steady holding that knife. “I suppose no truer words have been spoken Miss Tilly, but I was never the type to watch a young lady suffer…You know, I found my son Arthur when he was about your age. The boy was just starving in the streets, stealing what he could. Quite like you are now.”

She didn’t respond, just stared at him a moment longer before taking a large bite of the meat. He hadn’t seen someone eat so ravenously since he fed John for the first time.

It took a lot of talking to get her to let her guard down. She didn’t reveal much about herself, other than that her mother died and she wasn’t part of the foreman gang, she was just there. Though the tension in her shoulders slowly sapped away as she filled her stomach and let herself calm down. They spoke for a few hours and he tried his best not to treat her like a child, god knows they hate when you do that. He couldn’t help but notice that she just seemed so sad. Once all that fear subsided and she spoke more freely, it was clear that she was lost. She mentioned her mother’s death with deep sorrow, her eyes going glassy before she seemed to catch herself and move on.

Eventually, her hand stopped bleeding, and he tried to catch a look at it as she gestured. The sun was nearly set and he would have to get back to camp before they went looking for him.

He told her as much and he watched that deep-set sadness seep back to her features.

“Oh… well. It was nice to meet you Dutch.” She used his first name for the first time. He stood up and she did as well, wincing as she used her injured hand to push off the ground.

“You know... you could come back with me and let our doctor take a look at that hand. Well...she ain’t exactly a doctor, but she can fix it. We wouldn’t want that getting infected, it’s far easier to be an outlaw with both hands.”

She wanted to go with him, he could see it in her eyes. Good friends are hard to come by when you’re a child with no home.

“And perhaps, you could stay awhile. Learn how to be a real outlaw instead of a dress thief.” She seemed offended at the comment, a funny little scowl crossing her features. She was thinking about the offer, and he hoped it sounded at least a little better than sleeping alone in the forest.

“If I come to your camp….nobody's gonna try and touch me?”

“Absolutely not my dear, if they try I’ll cut off their hand myself.” She seemed to giggle a little at the notion, a sound he would take pride in. She sobered up and asked;

“And I can leave whenever I want? I ain’t gonna let anyone try and say they own me ever again.”

“If you come to camp, Tilly Jackson will remain a free woman, but you’ll have a home to come back to if that’s what you would like.”

He watched her hesitate a little longer. Some coyotes barked in the distance and she shivered. “Maybe just for a little while. Just to try it.”

“And you can leave whenever you want.” he reassured.

“And I can leave whenever I want.” She repeated it back like she was convincing herself. He turned his back to adjust the Count’s saddle and give him a sugar cube, and he heard small footsteps come closer to him.

“Um. Can I give him one? He’s real pretty.” Dutch turned and she was at his side, staring at the large animal. She was even smaller up close, and he could see that her bones stood up against her dark skin.

“You know, I think he would like that. Now here, take just one of these and put it in your hand flat. Don’t worry, he won’t bite you.” She went to take it from his hand before realizing her hands were full with the knife and Dutch’s gun.

“Oh. Here you go, Mister Dutch.” She tried to hand him back the gun. Bravely he thought, to give up her best defense, but he didn’t take it.

“I’ll tell you what my lady, It’s gonna be a bit of a ride to get back to camp and I don’t want you feeling like you can’t hold your own. You hold on to that one just until we get back, alright? We can put your knife in the bag safe and sound.” She obliged, putting the hunting knife gently in the saddlebag and holding on to the pistol. Then Dutch gave her the sugar cube and she held it out to the horse gingerly. The Count had no such hesitation and stole the treat from her hand quickly, the softness of his nose near her fingers making her giggle.

“Now, I think we might just be ready to move! Can I help you up milady?” He said, with a ring clad hand extended like a butler. The gesture made her giggle more and Dutch was happy to see the sadness put aside for a little while. She took his hand in her much smaller one and let him lead her to the side of the saddle.

“Now, can I lift you or do you want to go stand on the log over there?” She could read the underlying notion. The hidden meaning of ‘Do you want me to touch you’, ‘is it okay if I lift you’, etc. He was being more considerate than anyone she had ever met. She took a deep breath and put a little trust in him.

“You can lift me if that’s okay.”

“It would be my honor milady.” He lifted her onto the horse’s rump and tried not to think about how light she was. How he could feel her bones through the layers of her shirt. Once she was settled, he climbed up himself. Before they got going he pulled out his canteen and an apple from the bag.

“Here. Dinner will be done by the time we get to camp and there’s no reason you should go hungry back there, that just wouldn’t befit such a distinguished young lady.” She accepted the food, and he set the Count into a walk to get them out of the underbrush. Once they were on the path he pushed into a more brisk pace, but he wouldn’t risk trotting with her back there, the count’s trot could be rather rough and she’s so thin she would just be thrown off.

It would be a long ride back to camp at this pace, but it just gave him more time to get to know her and tell her about camp.

#Tilly Jackson #Dutch Van Der Linde #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #writing #Red Dead Redemption #the van der linde gang #backstory

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years

Text

The Moment They Met PT. 2

An AC Headcanon/Fic

Word Count: 1,806 Warnings: Period-Typical Racism

Author’s Note: The first one of these I did had both Shay and Haytham, but this is a single one with only Connor. Enjoy! -Thorne

She drummed her fingers along the counter, eyes continually darting between the exit and the doorway Jackson had gone through. Something about taverns always made her uncomfortable, perhaps it was the unwanted advances from drunkards who couldn’t take no for an answer. Swallowing a sigh, (Y/N)’s attention was captured by the door opening, and as she turned to look at who was entering, she saw someone stepping in.

A stranger, but a man from the broadness of his shoulders and chest. Her gaze was captivated by the white and blue tailored robes he wore, coupled with the various weapons he carried, a bow and a tomahawk. He walked with a silent grace, settling near the stool beside her and patiently waited for the bartender to come around. He smelled like sea salt and pine-trees and (Y/N) tried to catch a glimpse of his face, but the hood hid it well. The bartender, Chester, came over and looked up at the man. He was a rather intimidating height, even from where she was sitting—she had no doubt that if she were standing next to him, he’d tower over her. “Aye, what can I get you?”

The stranger nodded his head, quietly requesting, “I would like to rent a room for the night.”

Seeming like the bartender had a view of the man’s face, his own flashed with an awkward expression. “Afraid I can’t offer you one.”

“Why not?” came the stranger’s response, equally confused as (Y/N) was by the answer.

“Well…tavern’s not open for stay to your kind.”

She happened to glance at the stranger’s side, seeing his fist clenching at his hips. “My kind?”

“Natives, boy.” The bartender tipped his head to the door. “If you’re not drinking, you can’t stay.”

The stranger stared at the bartender for a minute and (Y/N) could tell that Chester was beginning to sweat under the scrutiny. After a few moments, the man turned on his heel and headed straight for the door. Part of her wanted to run after him, but the other part told her to stay seated, and unfortunately, it won. (Y/N) looked away, a frown crossing her lips as a bitter taste filled her mouth. A shame. She thought. A shame to be treated so cruelly like that. Her thoughts were disturbed by a thumping sound in front of her. She looked up, seeing Jackson standing behind the bar, the coin purse in front of her on the bar.

(Y/N) smiled and took it. “Thank you, Mister Jackson. I appreciate you doing this for me.” Stowing it in her satchel, she met his eyes once more. “I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

He waved a hand. “I’m not doing this to collect. Your father was a good friend. He’d want me to make sure you and (S/N) are taken care of.”

At the mention of her deceased father, she nodded, rising from her seat. “I know he’d be happy to hear that if he were still here.” She smiled. “Good evening, Mister Jackson. Tell Miss Marianne I said hello.”

“I will.” He responded, watching her exit the tavern.

***

The night seemed to be unusually cool in Boston, and (Y/N) pulled the shawl tighter around her arms, praying it give her a bit of heat until she got home. She kept constant watch on her surroundings as she crossed the street but came to a stop on the road when she saw the man from before walking with his head down. Immediately she started after him, but once she was a few feet away, she stopped and hesitated.

Feeling something off, the man turned, and she shrunk back from the sheer intimidation of his frame. “Is something wrong?” His voice was so gentle and polite that it made her jaw go slack. “Miss?” he wondered and (Y/N) snapped her mouth shut, shaking her head ‘no’. He tipped his head and turned back around, staring his way.

(Y/N) shook herself from her stupor and hurried after him. “Wait! Sir!”

He stopped once more, turning back to face her. “Yes?”

She leaned a bit to try and catch his eye. “I was in the inn…a few minutes ago…” His gaze darted to the street and she asked, “You’re looking for somewhere to stay the night?”

“I am.” He murmured, but then his voice softened. “But I have not found a place yet.”

“Because you’re…native?”

Finally, he raised his head and she caught sight of his face—he looked to be only a year or two older than she. “Yes.” Her heart hurt for him, to be so carelessly discriminated against.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and stared at him. “Then you’re more than welcome to stay the night at my home.” His eyes went wide, and she tipped her head to the road. “It’s just down the street and around the corner here. We’ve got warm food and clean blankets.”

“You are…offering me stay in your home?” he seemed so confused and she nodded.

“I am.” She answered. “It’s not a fancy room, merely a couch…probably going to give you a sore shoulder from how tall you are,” she admitted with a warmth growing in her face. “but it’s out of the cold and secure.”

“Are you not afraid of me?” he inquired, and his eyes told her that he would see through any lie.

(Y/N) pursed her lips, then said, “My parents told me to always help someone who needs it. Am I afraid of you for being a native? No.” His eyebrows rose on his forehead. “Because you are a man? Yes.” She took a deep breath. “You can never be careful enough.”

He nodded at that and turned, as if trying to let her lead. “I will not harm you.”

Something in the assuredness of his words gave her a pleasant feeling and with an embarrassed clearing of her throat, she muttered, “Well alright then. Follow me.”

***

She pulled the key from the lock and twisted the handle, pushing the door open. A warmth hit her, and she almost sighed audibly at how comfortable the house felt. Remembering her guest, she hurried inside, holding the door open for him. “Come in.” He did so but looked so awkward about himself, hunching his shoulders to fit through the doorway; (Y/N) giggled despite herself. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go see about getting you something to eat.” She pointed to the hallway. “Seating room is the first opening on the right. He murmured a quiet thank you and made his way past her.

(Y/N) drifted into the kitchen, busying herself with fixing something to eat when she heard, “Who are you?” She let out a curse and sped into the living room, seeing her younger sister standing by the table, the man standing a few feet from the doorway.

“(S/N).” she called.

Her sister met her gaze and smiled. “(Y/N)! You’re home!” She nodded and walked over. “Who’s that?” her sister questioned.

(Y/N)’s mouth opened to answer but it snapped shut and she looked to him, abashedly stating, “I…never actually got your name.”

Evidently as embarrassed as she was, he murmured, “Connor.”

She looked back at her sister. “(S/N), this is Connor. He’s going to be staying the night.”

(S/N)’s face pinched. “I thought you said we weren’t supposed to bring people into the—”

Clamping a hand over her sister’s mouth, she shot her a glare. “Shh!” she hissed, and her sister went silent, then something wet slid across her palm. She yanked her hand away and scowled at her. “You’re such a child, (S/N).” Her sister stuck her tongue out at her. “Go to the kitchen and get the bowl of stew I fixed.” She went off and (Y/N) turned to him. “Connor?” He looked at her and she walked over, holding her hand out. “I supposed I should offer my name as well. I’m (Y/N) (L/N), that was my younger sister, (S/N).”

Connor removed his hood and shook her hand. He was an awfully handsome young man, deep bronze skin and dark brown hair. His long, dark eyelashes made his made his amber eyes appear as if they glowed. “Are your parents home as well? I would introduce myself to them as well.”

“Oh…” she dropped his gaze. “No…they passed from yellow fever a few years ago.”

His face twisted in pain, and she assumed he’d lost someone as well. “I am sorry. I did not mean to bring up their passing’s.”

(Y/N) smiled and shook her head. “Worry not, Connor.” Feeling the rather uncomfortable atmosphere, she cleared her throat. “I’ll go get some blankets from the closet. Excuse me.” He nodded and she disappeared into the shared bedroom.

As she was coming out of the bedroom, (S/N)’s voice come from inside the seating room. “Here’s some supper, Mister Connor.”

“Thank you.” Came his reply.

The sound of silverware against ceramic echoed through the hallway and as she turned the corner, she heard, “You look like an Indian.”

(Y/N) hurried around and with the blankets in her arms she hissed, “(S/N)! You can’t just say something like that!”

Her sister offered her a blank stare. “But that’s what they are.”

“We aren’t in India, (S/N), we are in America. It’s not polite to call them Indians! You need to call them natives or by their tribe name!”

Something seemed to click in her sister’s brain, and she looked back at Connor. “What tribe are you from?”

(Y/N) groaned but Connor smiled. “The colonists call my people the Mohawk, but we are truly called Kanien'kehá:ka.”

“That’s a funny name.” (S/N) remarked and ignoring (Y/N)’s strangled cry, she asked, “What does it mean?”

“The People of the Flint.” Connor responded with a small smile.

Having had enough, (Y/N) stomped her foot, bringing their attention to her. “That’s it! (S/N), off to bed with you!”

“But I’m not—” (S/N) insisted.

“Now, (S/N).” Her sister obeyed, passing them by and she walked into the living room, setting the blankets beside Connor. “I am so sorry, Connor. I hope she didn’t offend you.”

He smiled. “She is a child. Curious as we all were once.”

(Y/N) huffed but couldn’t help returning his smile. “You are kind to indulge her. I need to work on her tact though. So far, it’s apparent that she has none.” Connor let out a small chuckle and she let out a sigh. “Well, you’re probably tired, Connor. I’ll let you alone for the evening.”

She stood and he raised a hand, stopping her. “(Y/N)?”

Her gaze drifted to him. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” A red tinted his cheeks and he looked away. “For letting me stay in your home.”

(Y/N) grinned and took the bowl. “You’re welcome, Connor. Don’t leave before you get breakfast tomorrow morning though.”

#connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway #Ratonhnhaké:ton #assassins creed 3 #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #ac3 #ac3 imagine #ac3 imagines #ac imagines #ac imagine

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jane-0-doe · 1 year

Text

Polls are fun, especially since the last one got a bit of attention :DD

Soo...

All the songs are from this playlist abt the fic!

(The other options will never actually be a part of the fic, they only describe the "vibe" lol)

Ps.: Link to the fic—

#fanfic authors #writer #ao3 #fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #fanfic #bnha deku #aideku #aizawa shota #miss or rather mister jackson #miss (or rather mister) jackson #Spotify

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

Butterflies & bandaids pt-6

masterlist

pt-6. the duo settles into a few stage in their relationship

____

When the pair met those 10 years ago, the didn't have any idea they'd be where they are now.

And where are they? Y/n tucked under Harry's body as he gently kisses the younger girl.

She's never felt more secure in her life than she does with her best friend on top of her gently kissing her lip.

"Such a sweetheart Y/n" his voice was like velvet as he mumbled against her lips getting a smile from the girl in return.

"You're sweeter than me h..."

The young girl ran her thumb over his bottom lip , eyes meeting his as they looked at each other with such deep adoration.

Harry smiled big at the girl, dimple on display while he stroked her cheek shaking his head gently.

"Not a chance, you got me beat love."

He chuckled as her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to her, her lips right on his ear a gentle whispered request slipping between them.

"Give me a real kiss...wanna feel your tongue h"

Harry smirked to himself as he licked over his lips, kissing her cheek gently before prying her arms off his neck and resting her down on his mattress again.

"Yea? Want a real kiss love?"

He basked in her little pouty moan and nod just so whipped for him already

"Words sweetness, need words."

"I want a real kiss...want to feel your tongue."

He didn't miss the blush on her cheek as he ducked back down and kissed her with a bit more pressure and purpose, coaxing her mouth open enough to slip his tongue in. Soaking up her little content moans as she massaged hers with his own, both of their breaths becoming shorter and more labored as they melted into each other.

His hands wandered down her body tracing her waist and hips, running his hands over her figure all the way up to the gentle curves of her breasts.

Y/n giggled a little bit under him pulling her mouth away

"You feeling my up my boobies mister Styles?"

"Dunno, am I?"

He loved that even when they're tongue deep in each other's mouths they can still joke with each other. He absolutely adored it.

Her giggles still made his eyes sparkle a bit just loving the pitch, a melodic tone only she produced.

"You're such a boy."

"Heyyy, I can't help I was born with a penis it's not my fault."

His response got an even louder laugh from the girl beneath him and a playful smack to his chest.

"God you're so annoying, why do I have to like you?" She questioned getting a cheek pinch back

"Hush, you love me and I'm the best."

"Always been so full of yourself oh my god"

•••

The pair of teens managed to regain their senses at some point that evening, both deciding to take a nice walk, get some food together before going back to Y/n's house.

"Gimme one" Y/n made grabby hands towards Harry's fries, both of them sitting in their favorite booth of their favorite little diner in town.

"I asked you specifically if you wanted fries! These are mine!"

"But I didn't want a whole order! Just want some, plus yours always taste better anyway. Gimme pleaseeeeeeeeee?!"

She pulled out the puppy dog eyes and dramatic grabby hands knowing he'd cave in a second, which he did. Rolling his green eyes as he nudged his plate to the center of the table letting her eat off it.

"Satisfied ma'am?" He questioned the chewing girl and she nodded

"Mhm, delicious. Here you can have some of my pasta. I'll be nice and share."

The teen didn't waste any time before shoving a fork into her dish.

••

Squeals in a plethora of tones were heard all at once when the pair made their way back to the girls house, babies,toddlers,kids and even her older siblings made a noise when they came in. Luke, the eldest made a simple noise of acknowledgement while Miley took it upon herself to let out the loudest-most excited shriek her tiny vocal cords could muster.

One things for sure, he never felt unwanted in that home.

"Hi Miley! Hi baby!" , he wasted no time in scooping her up out of her pack n play, kissing her cheeks and ruffling her soft short hair.

Emma,the second eldest child of Y/n's family emerged from the kitchen and smiled at the boy.

"Hey Harry! Long time no see, got tall kid. What has your mom been feeding you?"

The boy chuckled and shook his head giving the older girl a hug rubbing her back.

"What's the verdict? Remember when me and Gem made bets on how tall you'd be when you got older? You were so pissed when we said you'd still be 4 feet tall when you were 50. Proper threw a tantrum over it!"

Y/n laughed with them at the memory, Harry rolling his eyes as he chuckled, hiking Miley up his hip slightly.

"Six foot and a half, I think you owe me ten bucks Emma."

Emma stuck her tongue out at him and wiggles out of his grasp

"Kiss my ass Styles I'm not paying you shit!"

Loud giggles where heard from everyone except their mother who hissed out a 'language!' Pointing to the toddlers who like to repeat everything they hear.

"And you! My little sister! Oh Y/n you've not grown an inch since I've seen you! You sure you're 14? Not still 4?" Y/n gave her a playful glare and pinched her sister

"Shut up, you've been away like what? 8 months? Im youthful, you looks like a old woman."

Emma gasped and narrowed her eyes

"Take that back! I'm 20! I'm young! I look young! Say it you little shit!" Before Y/n knew what was happening she was being attacked by her sisters tickling hands and was screaming from the floor while being attacked

"OH MY GOD LET ME GO EMMA I SWEAR TO GOD! FINE FINE YOU LOOK YOUNG! YOU LOOK LIKE A BABY! GET OFF!"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the chaotic sibling spectacle. He finds it sweet, he always loved their bond.

"Emma If you wouldn't mind, could you let go of my girlfriend?"

The word somehow flowed so easily from his lips, yet everyone paused as he said it.

"Girlfriend?" Emma, Luke, Y/n and Jackson all asked at the same time rather comedically as all their heads seemed to pop up.

Y/n of course turned a shade of strawberry red from her neck to her hairline , and her siblings looked between the pair of best friends.

"You guys are dating? Since when?!"

"Well...since today."

Y/n managed to scramble to her feet and hide her embarrassed face in Harry's warm chest, Emma smiling at them

"I know this was gonna happen, Gemma owes me 20 bucks!"

Everyone rolled her eyes at the 20 year old girl, Luke balancing on his elbow on the arm of the couch to size Harry up

"You hurt my baby sister, I'll break your legs Harold."

"Have I ever hurt her?"

"Doesn't matter the track record, Threat still stands kid."

Harry let out a sigh and nod, stroking Y/n's back and bouncing the baby still in his arms.

He could get used to this, if this was his new normal he wouldn’t complain one bit.

••

“Can I paint your nails?”

Y/n held up her box of neatly organized nail polish bottles looking up at Harry with a little pout and Harry of course couldn’t say no to that.

“Fine, but I get to pick the colors!”

“Deal.”

Y/n giggled as she sat him down, taking his hand and resting it on her knee as she unscrewed the pale blue polish he’d picked out shyly meeting his fond gaze while she paints.

“You’re so pretty love...”

Harry smiled as he admired the girl in front of him, humming when he watched the blush crawl from her neck all the way to the tip of her pretty little ears.

“Thank you...”

Y/n felt butterflies flutter in her stomach when he spoke to her, gently blowing on his polished fingers before looking back at him, giving him a soft kiss on his lips a few times before putting the cap back on the paint.

“There you go, looks great on you haz! Blue suits you nicely.”

“You’re too sweet, you did a good job.”

The bashful girl just rolled her eyes at the comment letting him tug her to his chest cuddling her close.

“Can’t believe my bubble gum girl is finally all mine...I love you Y/n”

#harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #bestfriends!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles smut #butterflies and bandaids

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nonbinaryemonugget · 4 years

Text

Good Kid

Summary: Virgil is getting kicked back to the foster home. Again.

He’s a good kid, he promises. He just needs one more chance.

Yeah you remember my other post? I decided to take things into my own hands. The song’s from Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief musical. I highly recommend you listen to it.

Ships: Romantic Anxcietmus (sue me but dont)

Characters: Virgil, Remus, Janus, Roman. Some OCs I guess.

Warnings: Um, foster care. Bullying. Blood mention. Fight mention. Anger. Crying. Implied character death. Implied neglect and abuse, maybe emotional abuse? I’m not good with this- I don’t know, tell me if there is anything else please.

“Virgil Ann Storm. I have to admit I am disappointed to see you back here.” Ms. Turner shook her head, putting his file down as she stood up. Virgil knew it was filled with black marks and notes that said he was a bad kid. Troubled. He wasn’t. He swore.

“Come on, Ms. T, we both know you missed me.” He replies, rather snarky. They both knew Ms. Turner would much rather prefer Virgil was out of this foster home forever. This was his sixth family in six years, and with such a spotty record he was lucky he got that many.

“Very funny, Mister Storm.” She sighed, opening the door to the room they had both hoped he wouldn’t end back up in.

“Please, Ms, Mister Storm is someone probably more put together than me.” He tossed his bag down. A head peeked out from the top bunk. “Tickle me Emo! Back already?”

Virgil didn’t answer Remus. It wasn’t funny. Not now, when the betrayal was so fresh. He thought they cared. They had said so. He heard the door shut, Ms. Turner had left, and Remus switched to a softer voice.

“Virgil?” He hopped down from his bunk. “Do you want me to get Jan? He’s in here.” He points to the top bunk where Janus waved at him. Virgil shook his head.

“Do you- Do you wanna talk about it?” Remus wasn’t good with emotions, but Virgil deserved someone trying, because, god, Virgil had been here the longest and he had been let down so many times. It wasn’t fair.

Virgil huffs. Where to even begin? With his real parents? Yeah, right. With this newest hurt?

Eventually he opens his mouth, Janus and Remus looking at him in concern.

“Six schools in six years, been kicked out of every place. Everything I ever do is wrong! Never find where I belong! Everybody on my case...”

He pulled out his file. He wasn’t supposed to have it, but he was more than a anxious teen. He had hobbies. Sure those hobbies included pick pocketing and lock picking, but he always returned the things he took.

Until now.

He began to rip the pages. Every little paper that had a black mark or a red note. About how he was a bad kid.

“The same old story, the same old song. Don’t act up, don’t act out, be strong... I keep my head down, I keep my chin up, but it ends up all the same!”

There’s a large picture of Virgil. It’s from one of his more recent fights (He didn’t start it! Those kids threw the first punch-). He has a black eye and a bloody lip. Virgil tears it in half.

“With pack your bags, Virgil, you’re always to blame!”

He bites back a sob as he comes across the ‘Past Families’ page. Old pain, freshly opened in his moments of grief.

“I never tried to do anything! I never mean to hurt anyone! I try, I try, to be a good kid. A good kid... A good son..”

“Virgil..”

He ignores Janus’s soft whisper of his name. “But no one ever will take my side; all I ever do is take the fall! I swear, I swear, that I’m a good kid! Guess I’m good for nothing at all.”

He rips the paper in half, then once more. They didn’t care. They hadn’t loved him enough. Maybe even at all. Even Ms. Turner thought he was a hopeless case.

He points to the paper, ignoring that his hand is shaking. “They were all world-class jerks, Dad was never there. The only family that really mattered, well, she vanished into the air.”

Virgil misses his mom. He misses her so much.

“Then I think I find I haven, someplace safe where I can stay..” He puts a fake smile on his face, ignoring the burning of tears in his eyes. “Til it’s ‘Pack your bags, Virgil, now go, go away!’”

Remus tries now, saying Virgil’s name, voice flooded with concern. Virgil looks at the next page.

“I never try to do anything! I never mean to hurt anyone! I swear, I swear, that I’m a good kid.” He lets out a wet laugh, “Yeah, Virgil, that’s a good one..”

He collapses in his desk chair, smiling as he looks over the file. Tears are streaming down his face, but he’s quick to wipe them away.

Caught fighting six students. When questioned, claimed to be protecting fellow student from being bullied. Said student hesitated before denying any bullying.

“But no one ever will take my side; All I ever do it take the fall! I swear, I swear that I’m a good kid!” He draws in a quick breath, trying hard not to sob, “Guess I’m good for nothing at all.”

He reads through the other incidents. Fights, mostly.

“The schools in six years, every battle, every day; No one ever tells me that they’re proud! No one asks me,’Virgil, how’d you like to come around and stay?’!”

He starts tearing more pages, one with every last word. Tears are falling steadily now and he’s shouting.

“All you get are bad grades

and a bum rap

and a bad rep

and a good smack!”

He touches his cheek, eyes burning with memory.

“And no friends!

And no hope!

And no mom!“

He stops for the longest time, the shredded papers falling out of his shaking hands. Then finally, in a voice so quiet it almost doesn’t exist,

“She’s taken away.”

He finally breaks down into sobs, fists curling together as he cries.

“I swear I never stole anything... I never meant to hurt anyone. I swear, I swear, that I’m a good kid. A good kid... Who’s had a bad run..”

He curls in desperately on himself, but Remus and Janus can still hear him.

“All I need is one last chance to prove I’m good enough for someone.”

Remus grabs him, holding him close as Virgil cries, “I’m good enough for someone.”

Janus grabs his boyfriend’s hand, rubbing circles into it. “I’m good enough for someone!”

As the two older boys hold on to their crying boyfriend, a man steps out of his car and into a parking lot. He knows there’s that one kid that isn’t bad, just misunderstood. He wants to show that kid hope again. In fact, Roman Prince was going to help that kid if it was the last thing his did.

He’s good enough for someone.

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ereborskingarchive · 4 years

Text

❝ […] but fíli is the youngest and still has the best sight , ❞ said thorin . ❝ come here , fíli , and see if you can see the boat mister baggins is talking about . ❞ ————— chapter 8 : flies and spiders , page 143 .

[…] a young dwarf prince facing down the pale orc . his armor rent , wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield . blow after blow the orc delivered upon this branch , ‘til one such powerful swing drove it back into the prince’s head , sending him down to the ground … ————— the hobbit : an unexpected journey . peter jackson .

dwarrows , with their preference to remain underground in the darkness¹ of their mountains where , in such subterranean conditions , little light reaches the eye , are more short-sighted than any other race in the middle earth . whereas elves can look across great distances , dwarrows can see very fine details when anything is brought close to their eyes , an ability that lends itself to the unmatched workmanship that they are able to achieve with their craft . the short - sightedness of dwarrows does not hinder them much² , and while it becomes less easy to see far away with age , they are otherwise unaffected and unaware of any difficulties . their architecture and ornamentation , comprised of straight lines , large , prominent statues , stamped patterns , deeply embedded runes , and embossed beads are aspects that reflect this small lacking in their sight and ensure that the dwarrows do not need perfect vision to navigate through their realm ( flat decorations are rarely seen , if made at all ) nor would they need eyesight by itself to be able to relate to their adornments that are as physically representative ( able to be perceived through contact ) ( i . e . the rune - stone received by kíli from dís is meant to be felt as much as it to be looked at ) as they are visually³ .

rare is it that a blow comes down hard enough to cause a dwarf any lasting harm , but when fighting azog the defile during the battle of azanulbizar ( 2799 of the third age ) before the gates of khazad-dûm ( moria ) , a swing of azog’s spiked mace causes the oaken branch that thorin wielded to strike backwards into his head . he falls to the ground , having received a severe enough hit to permanently deteriorate his eyesight further than what is usual for a dwarf . his sword cutting off azog’s arm instead of his head is a result of this , because he could no longer see clearly enough to translate the abruptly indistinct appearance of his foe , nor was he able to see azog carried into khazad-dûm alive.

the initial adaptation was difficult the more it deteriorated , but additional practice and training , along with a heightened hearing ( he has become particularly adept at hearing and recognizing sounds and when certain people are speaking ) , has him able to participate in battle with as much skill as any other warrior ( instead of direct assaults , thorin tends to twirl with his weapon as a means to make sure that he strikes his enemy and does not fall short because he could not aim as precisely ) ( i . e . this form can be seen most notably during the escape from the goblin tunnels )⁴ . his eyesight is not so far gone that he cannot recognize shapes and surroundings , albeit distorted or faint depending on the distance between him and what he is looking at . around one to two meters is as far as he can see without having any problems , but this depends on how well - rested he is , and the distance is oftentimes less than that . thorin can see up close as crystal - clearly as his fellow dwarrows . seasons passed , and he adjusted to being able to take in less than others , not thinking much on it save for when journeying required someone with sharper eyes than his ( the distortion is not so great that he cannot commonly make these journeys by himself , which he usually does ) . his instincts serve him well and make up for what he lacks in his eyesight . save for a few strange instances that may cause the dwarrows that do not know of his disability to scratch their heads⁵ , balin , dwalin , dís , fíli , and kíli are aware and do their best to support him without tramping upon his position as leader .

amidst the mourning for the losses sustained during the battle of azanulbizar , which claimed the lives of thrór , thorin’s grandfather , and frerin , thorin’s younger brother , and resulted in the disappearance of thráin , thorin’s father , his eyesight was not forefront on his mind , and was not so for awhile . indeed , it took nearly a year before he realized the change , though others around him, namely his training partner , dwalin, and vili , fíli and kíli’s father , noticed earlier, and kept a close guard around thorin . he moved on without taking a moment to grieve it, working himself nearly to the end of his fortitude to regain the skills that had left him in the wake of this disability . he neither cursed it , nor cared so little about it that it did not make him brood , nearer and nearer to thinking himself so much lesser than his forefathers . it was a weight set atop so many others , another strain upon the dimming of his mind’s wellbeing , but one that he had no choice but to bear , even if it snuffed him out .

thorin fumbles now and then , frequently enduring humbling mishaps and pushing on regardless without letting himself or the other dwarrows take much notice . he is determined to still perform his role to the greatest of his abilities , and does not slow simply because he cannot see the path as clearly . he knows it is there , and that is enough . he will make it enough .

𝑬𝑿𝑨𝑴𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑼𝑪𝑯 𝑶𝑪𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑶𝑾 :

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒕 , 𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚 : i . he arrived late to bag end because he could not see the mark that gandalf had left upon bilbo baggins’ door , which resulted in him becoming rather off - track . he walked up and down bagshot row twice before , on the third attempt , he drew close enough to see the mark . ii . instructing balin to lead the way when they journeyed out of rivendell was partly because balin knew it , and partly because it was unfamiliar enough that thorin did not trust himself to lead the company with his disability and the steep fall on one side⁶ . iii . in the misty mountains , during the battle of the stone giants , thorin’s eyesight was shortened considerably with the heavy rain - fall , and he could not see whether it was fíli or kíli beside him when they were separated from half of the company . as indicated by the film’s subtitles , he does incorrectly call for kíli , mistaking fíli for his brother . iv . thorin does not realize that bilbo is not with him when they make it out of the goblin tunnels because he simply could not see well enough to notice he was not there ( one of two such accidental occurrences , and not because he disvalued bilbo’s safety ) . v . it cannot be . thorin says this in the tree because , until azog the defiler speaks , he cannot see that far away to ascertain whether or not it was truly him and not a different orc . vi . azog the defiler’s warg bringing thorin to the ground that may look like bad form on thorin’s part , but when the warg leapt in the air , thorin could no longer tell for sure where it was in front of him , and by the time it was close enough for him to see it , it was too late , and he had charged too close . vii . when the orc approaches to cut off his head , thorin cannot reach orcrist partly because of the harm he sustained, but also because orcrist’s shape was too distorted for him to grab it without missing it ( his hand tries in vain anyway ) .

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 : i . the ending scene with thorin looking out at erebor in the distance : he could see enough to know the shape of it against the sky , though tragically not as much as the others in the company .

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒕 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒈 : i . the hardness of the stone path in mirkwood aided thorin in being able to lead the company for most of the way , but , as seen in the film , there are several instances that dwalin has to find the path for him if it was coated with enough greenery . ii . the longer he remained in mirkwood , the more his eyesight slacked under its enchantment , ‘til nearly all of his surroundings were a blur , and his abrupt command for the company to follow him and stray from the path was because he could not see and felt cornered into an unwise and impulsive action . iii . thorin does not realize bilbo is missing when battling the spiders because he still could not see well enough ( the second occurrence , still as much an accident as the first , and still not because he disvalued bilbo’s safety ) . iv . his boot stepping on the cord tied to the key before it fell down the mountainside was completely unintentional , which is why he gives bilbo the look he does before he stoops to pick it up .

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 : i . the white stag : archery is thorin’s least mastered skill because of his eyesight , but that does not mean that he does not use it every now then , though saving it for when he is certain he would not accidentally strike others . what he sees may be distorted , but having grown accustomed to it , he is better at discerning shapes and concluding where their edges are . ii . the incident with the barrels had him relying quite a lot on his instincts , but was also attributed to the culmination of his tireless training to ensure that others , including himself , would not die because of his eyesight . iii . running from smaug in erebor and the several rather treacherous leaps : most of his confidant running around can be attributed to stone sense ( explained in summary in the footnotes ) , and the several leaps he makes were ones of faith rather than knowing for certain something was there to grab .

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒊𝒕 , 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔 : i . he could not see and be sure that bard held the arkenstone until kíli’s exclamation , when thorin’s face darkens with realization and his suspicions of the glowing colors that he could distinguish are confirmed . ii . the tragedy is that he could not see fíli’s final moments , not truly . azog and fíli were at such a distance that while he knew who was standing there , the details , such as the last emotions on his nephew’s face before he perished , were lost to him . he was unfortunately able to distinguish the blade that pierced through him .

𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒚 : i . throwing the ruby : it was mostly the assumption that the shapes of either fíli or kíli would catch it if he aimed it enough in their direction . he has remarkable aim that he worked diligently on throughout the decades . ii . the warning shot let loose at thranduil : a miss . he had been aiming to wound thranduil’s ride with gold - sick intent .

𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑬 : the top is with unaffected eyesight , and the bottom is what thorin sees .

𝑭𝑶𝑶𝑻𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺 :

¹ : dwarrows can see incredibly well in darkness , and despite his short-sightedness , this includes thorin .

² : this is because of stone - sense , something that all dwarrows have . stone sense , in a summarized definition , is the dwarven power to be able to sense the stone around them , noting where it is safe and where it is not , and using it to make their way through mountains both in general and with mining . thorin's short - sightedness is completely indiscernible to anyone watching him in the mountain because of how his stone - sense guides him , resonating a little more loudly due to his disability .

³ : information was drawn in part from this post .

⁴ : in regards to archery , thorin learned how to use a bow during his erebor years before his injury , and while he can only use it to a certain extent depending on the situation , he is still capable of shooting from one . that is not to say he is very good at it , however .

⁵ : thorin is practiced at hiding it , and while your character and others may figure it out eventually , it is not outrightly apparent that he is so very short-sighted . your character and others would most likely not catch on ‘til they are explained to by thorin , or are in a situation that reveals it because he made a blunder .

⁶ : this is not to say that he does not lead the company over dangerous paths , which he does , only that he merely hands over his position in the front when he thinks it is necessary ( and he is not always right about when it is not ) .

#* INTERPRETATION .#* MOUNTAIN - SON WITH CAVERNS DEEP .#i told myself this was not going to be long and yet ; here we are .

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winryofresembool · 4 years

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Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 14

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo's fear raises its head at the worst possible moment.

A/N: Finally some (slight) drama after I've drowned all of you in fluff in the previous chapters. Also, it was pretty exciting for me to finally get to explore Leo's studying life a bit more in this chapter.

I also want to take this opportunity to advertise a future fic of mine that I /hope/ to finish by the end of this week. The past week I've been working on a post ToN Caleo one-shot which is already over 4000 words long and at this point mainly needs some heavy editing to be posted. So stay tuned for that too if you like this ship!

Big big thanks to Cris for helping me a whole lot with this chapter! I really needed your science knowledge :’)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! And remember that comments are the only reward I get so they would be much, much appreciated!!

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo. Jason, Percy, Annabeth

Words: 3000+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“Mister Valdez? Are you listening?”

Leo snapped out of his daze. He was at his engineering math class and for the past 15 minutes the professor had been explaining to the group a problem that had taken Leo about 2-3 minutes to solve. Usually he did something else while listening to his professors; finish more calculations (sometimes even ones they weren’t assigned to do), doodle blueprints and ideas for future inventions into his notebook, write down a new joke he had come up with, or text Jason that he was bored. Weirdly enough, doing all that other stuff helped him to focus on what was going on in the lecture.

However, this time his mind was elsewhere; it kept showing him images of a girl with shoulder length reddish brown hair, dark brown eyes that seemed a bit harsh at first but softened when she laughed at his joke, a couple of freckles on her light skin… He could also hear her laughter and smell the cinnamon scent that probably came from the shampoo she used in his head. The previous evening had gone so well but he had no idea what to make of it; even if he did like Calypso (which he wasn’t quite ready to admit yet), could anything ever happen? They were flatmates. Things would sure get complicated if they got together and then broke up and would barely stand each other’s company… Besides, who was to say she’d ever like him? Sure, sometimes she seemed amused by his jokes but what other reasons did he give for her to like him? Not much, he felt.

Leo started to get frustrated because he couldn’t get those thoughts out of his head and he might have started to growl to himself if the professor hadn’t called him at that exact moment.

“Yes?” Leo answered unsurely, not having heard what the professor had asked.

“Good. Then you can tell me what the solution to this problem is.” The professor pointed at the long and complicated looking problem on the whiteboard.

Leo sighed of relief on the inside. They were still talking about the same problem that he had solved over 10 minutes ago. He could do this.

“X is 3,65, Y is 5,51 and Z is 7,24,” he said, sounding almost bored.

“That is correct,” the professor said, badly hiding his surprise. He had thought this kid who seemed to be living in his dream world would be utterly confused by his question. He turned his attention back to the rest of the class and continued: “Of course, the easiest way to solve this equation is to divide X with… Yes, Mister Valdez?”

“Actually, I disagree,” Leo said, now completely awake. “Why would you divide it when you can…”

“Which one of us is the professor here, Mister Valdez?” the professor cut him off. “You may think you know how to do this but there are plenty of students here who aren’t quite as advanced and that’s why it’s better to show them one way to do it rather than to confuse them by....”

“Yeah, right, my bad,” Leo said sarcastically. “If these students are so simple minded, then why don’t you give them more practical problems to solve? You know, things we might actually need in the work life instead of… that,” he pointed at the whiteboard.

A couple of people were brave enough to nod and hum in agreement to Leo’s comments but there were also a few that started laughing.

“Alright, that’s it, Mister Valdez. Leave my class.”

Leo obeyed gladly (that class was such a waste of time anyway). He packed his things and headed out of the room, grinning widely as he left to let the professor know he hadn’t won that battle. It was almost lunch time so he decided to already go to the cafeteria to wait for Jason whose class wasn’t too far either.

About 15 minutes later Jason showed up, and to Leo's surprise he also had company. Percy Jackson did occasionally join them for a game night or a sparring session but Leo almost exclusively saw him outside the university. From what he knew Percy was currently focusing on his swimming career and wasn’t studying anything. Now he had however joined Jason for lunch and that made Leo wonder if there was some specific reason for that.

“Hey, man,” Jason greeted. “You’re early today. Are they having enchiladas or something?”

“Nah,” Leo shook his head. “I may have gotten kicked out of the class.”

“What did you do this time?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, really!” Leo exclaimed. Jason kept looking at him suspiciously, though, so he had to add eventually: “Fine, I may have disagreed with the professor about some of his methods, but really, that’s all. Didn’t blow up the lab or anything like that.”

“One time when I was in the high school I told the teacher his pants were unzipped and I wasn’t allowed to participate in his classes for a whole week after that. Didn’t miss much, though, he sucked as a teacher,” Percy joined the conversation.

“That’s exactly what I thought about this guy!” Leo said and gave Percy a high five. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the pool at this hour.”

“Just checking the places,” Percy shrugged. Leo raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Fine, Annabeth thinks that at some point I should start thinking about my career after swimming so Jason said he could show me around today so I’d get an idea what it’s like here. Oh and, he promised me a free lunch.”

“Makes sense,” Leo said while already looking at the menu eagerly. “I’d come here for a free lunch too.”

“You pay for this one, though,” Percy pointed out.

“Back to the actual topic ,” Jason said, looking at Leo a bit worriedly. “You didn’t get into big trouble with that professor, did you?”

“I think he’ll go back to ignoring me again in the next class. “ Leo replied. “So no need to worry.”

“Good. It’s just that, after that last lab incident…” Jason started, referring to an incident that had happened in the previous semester, but Leo stopped him.

“I said no need to worry,” Leo said a bit louder. “I’ve got things sorted, OK? Just… let’s go to get that damn lunch now. Chili con carne, anyone?”

In reality, Leo knew that if he skipped one more lab class, the professors wouldn’t be that understanding. The saddest part about it was that he actually enjoyed the lab classes way more than the boring theory classes because there you got to try things out with your own hands, but… there was one big but. He couldn’t be there when…

“Leo?” he heard Jason’s voice somewhere nearby

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You were just totally zoned out, I was talking to you like a full minute and I don’t think you heard anything I said,” Jason pointed out.

“Oh, sorry. Lots going on in my mind. So, what did you say?” Leo asked.

“I was asking about when we should meet up on Saturday? I have soccer practice in the morning and Piper has a meeting with her theater group at 1 pm but we’re free after that.”

“I have to ask Cal but I think I can organize my work so I’d be free any time after 4 pm.”

“Alright, sounds fine to me,” Jason said, but Leo could sense that he was still wondering what had been bothering him that much.

“So who’s this Cal person?” Percy asked when the boys made it to the buffet tables.

“My new flatmate,” Leo said simply, currently more interested in filling his plate than elaborating on his living situation.

“OK. I was just wondering because Annabeth mentioned that she’d been at your place, and apparently she’d helped to give this flatmate of yours a makeover.”

“Oh, yeah!” Leo said, remembering that meeting quite vividly. “From what I’ve heard they’ve been hanging out quite a lot lately. That’s good because… well, she’s new here.” Leo was going to say that she doesn’t seem to have a lot of people in her life, but decided that he didn’t want to reveal too much to someone who had never even met her.

“Where is she from then?”

“I think she moved here from New York,” Leo said. “And she’s around your age. Who knows, you might even know her.”

“New York is a pretty big place,” Percy pointed out. “I guess Cal is a nickname? What’s her full name?”

Leo was going to answer when he spotted the chemistry lab professor in the crowd and he quickly hid behind Jason.

“Don’t let him see me,” Leo said hastily. “He’s gonna…”

Leo didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when he heard the said professor say loudly: “Mister Valdez!”

Leo peeked from behind his friend.

“Hola, professor,” he said awkwardly. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Yes you did, you were just trying to hide from me. I wanted to remind you that today is the test day which is 60% of the mark. And that means that…”

“If I skip that test, I will fail the class,” Leo added, looking down at his feet. He didn’t remain like that long, though. “I’ll be there, professor.” He put up a brave face and saluted him as the professor just ‘hmmph’ed and turned away from me.

“I thought you said you have everything in order.” Jason raised his eyebrow once the boys had paid for their lunches and started to look for a table. “That didn’t seem like it.”

“Take care of your own business, Sparky,” Leo grunted and pointed at one empty table not far from them. “Let’s go there.”

“I’m serious, Leo,” Jason continued once they got seated. “Something is bothering you. We are your friends and we do care. You can trust us on this.”

Leo let Jason’s words sink in. Friends. Care. Trust. Since his mother died, he had always been the oddball, the outsider until he got a family who actually cared about him, Jo, Emmie and Georgie, but he still got a bit overwhelmed every time he realized that he really mattered to someone.

“Thanks, man.” Leo said finally. “I’ll… keep that in my mind. Promise.”

“Good.” Jason smiled at him encouragingly. “You can talk to us whenever you feel like it.”

After that the discussion moved to other things. Percy was hopeful that he was fit enough for a new record in his next competition and he didn’t forget to praise her little sister as well. Jason mentioned having seen his father at the campus but he had barely acknowledged his presence. Leo threw a few sarcastic comments here and there to let the others know he was listening. However, he had lost his appetite after hearing about the test. He had barely tasted his lunch and was now moving the rice back and forth on his plate as it got cooler. If the others noticed that, they didn’t say anything, probably thinking that it was better to let Leo open up on his own accord.

The lunch time flew by too fast for Leo’s liking. After separating from his friends he started heading towards the lab where most of the other students were already getting prepared. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in, hoping for the best.

The lab class started with a brief written test that made sure the students were ready for the practice part. This time would be particularly important, though, because it was testing them about pretty much everything they had learned so far in that class, and would be graded accordingly.

The written test caused no problem to Leo. He’d be able to name the lab tools by heart even in his sleep and the calculations weren’t much harder to him. However, he was already dreading the actual practice part for a very specific reason…

In the practice Leo would have to mix a few compounds together to get a chemical reaction. That was the simple part. But unfortunately for him, these said compounds would have to be heated in order for them to react. And of course you’d need a flame to do that. Now that was the hard part for Leo. He hated the gas burners and it had become a habit for him to skip a lab class when he knew they would be used. Unfortunately for him, that was fairly often because apparently the university’s heating plates were used by some other group at the same time, and that was also why he was about to fail this class. But if he could handle using the burner just this once, maybe he’d be fine… He knew he couldn’t afford to fail it because if he did, it might be a sign that he wouldn’t be able to do the job he was so excited about, and that would be a huge slap in his face. Maybe even bigger than he was ready to admit.

He measured the compounds and was ready to heat them when he noticed that a fellow student nearby had accidentally mistaken two of the compounds with each other, ruining the mixture. That gave him an idea.

“Pssst. I can mix a new one for you if you heat this for me.”

“What?” The other student looked at him with confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“I just told you. I can fix that for you.”

“You just want to flex with your skills, that’s all,” the guy said, knowing Leo’s reputation as the genius who however refused to join lab classes. Probably because he felt he was too good for them. “May I remind you that this is a solo practice!” the professor yelled from the front of the class. “No talking allowed.”

“Yes, professor,” Leo said quietly, but rolled his eyes at him when he turned his back. He read the instructions one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and when he was double convinced that he was in the part that he had dreaded, he breathed sharply and picked up his gas burner and some matches. He felt his heart starting to race and his hands starting to shake as he took one match from the box and tried to light it.

He tried once. Twice. Took a deep breath and tried once more. At this point his hands were shaking so furiously that the match fell from his hand. Realizing that he still couldn’t do it, he made a frustrated groan, dropped the match box on the table and started shakily collecting his things.

“Mister Valdez? Did you finish your task?” The professor raised his gaze from his desk and focused on him. A few others turned to Leo’s direction as well.

“No, sir.”

“And why not?”

“I. can’t.” Leo said with a voice so deep and raw that you rarely got to hear it from him. He left his unfinished product on the professor’s desk. Then he threw his bag over his shoulder and doors banging left the class.

He didn’t make it far when he felt his knees going weak and he had to sit down on the closest chair, burying his face in his hands.

…

“Thanks so much for showing me that place! It feels so good to see some nature even this close to the city,” Calypso exclaimed happily to Annabeth as they were walking towards the dorms. Calypso loved nature and she didn’t really feel at home in the concrete jungle, hoping that one day she could afford to buy a house from the countryside. She had once mentioned that to Annabeth who also enjoyed adventuring in the less crowded areas and had promised to take Calypso to one of her favorite parks nearby. They both had had free time from their classes that afternoon so they had decided to take the advantage of that and go to explore a bit.

The park had been pretty, having a small river running through it and little trails circling the trees. Calypso, who had grown near the sea missed seeing bodies of water so even the river had made her feel a little less homesick. The girls had been there for a few hours, taking pictures and having a small picnic while talking about anything and everything that had come to their minds.

Now, unfortunately, it was time to return back to real life and the assignments that were waiting for them at home.

“No problem,” Annabeth replied to Calypso’s comment. “Honestly, I think this break was much needed. I do love architecture and history and all that but sometimes my ADHD kicks in and I just need to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, it helps to focus again afterwards,” Calypso agreed. “Hey, do you have anything special to do this weekend? Leo, I, Piper and Jason are supposed to have a video game night on Saturday and I thought I’d ask if you want to join. You can ask your boyfriend too if you want, of course! I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind.”

“What time would it be?” Annabeth asked.

“I haven’t asked Leo yet but he does work on Saturdays so probably not very early. Sometime in the evening. I can inform you when I know more,” Calypso promised.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in my mind. My boyfriend has a swimming practice twice a day so he may not be able to join us but I might!”

“Great!”

The girls had reached the area where Calypso lived so they turned to their own directions.

“I’ll contact you!” Calypso said before Annabeth was too far to hear. She waved at her in response.

Calypso was still smiling when she entered her flat, but the smile soon melted from her face when she saw Leo hunched on the couch, looking utterly lost. Calypso approached him cautiously, asking: “What happened?”

Leo patted on the seat next to him, gesturing to her to join him on the couch. She did, but when he didn’t say anything for a while, though, Calypso decided to be bold and wrap her arm around his shoulder. Leo looked at her with dark eyes, still appreciating the gesture.

“I may have to start making new career plans.”

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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