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evilhagspage · 2 years

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Eddie <3

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Stranger Things Season 4 spoilers, brief descriptions of canon typical violence, some mentions of past trauma, established relationship.

Word Count: 2,000+

A/N: Literally no one asked for this but Eddie Munson has taken up all the room in my brain for the past few days, so here is my most recent daydream scenario put into story format. I am NOT a writer, or buy any means good at this, but hey, here I am. Bask with me in the glory that is Eddie Munson.

The only sounds heard in the cold, metal room was the soft tick, tick, tick, of the clock above the door, and the drumming of my bouncing leg. It was a bad habit of mine, bouncing my leg and picking at my cuticles when I got anxious. I would be less anxious if they let me have my cigarettes. I mean, I wasn't even under arrest, so who were they to take them?

My thoughts were interrupted when two men suddenly came into the room, a tall black man with kind eyes in a tan, sheriff's uniform followed by a dorky deputy with a mustache and thin glasses. They came in silently and sat across the cold, metal table from me. They sized me up as they got their notes ready. It's not the first time I've seen that look on people's faces. I mean, with the makeup and the nose piercing, I was fairly used to adults creating an idea of me in their head that was only based on bullshit they read in the papers.

"Ms. Y/L/N, do you know why we have brought you in today?" The sheriff broke the silence finally.

"I can't say I do, officer," I drawled. I might as well have fun and play the part, if they think they already know everything about me.

"Do you know one Eddie Munson?" the deputy chimed in this time.

The corner of my lip twitched up in a ghost of a smile at the mention of the name. "Yes, I do."

"What is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Munson?"

A smirk now set itself on my face as I said, "He's my boyfriend."

The scratch of a pen sounded before the sheriff spoke again, asking, "and do you know where Eddie is right now?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek, another bad habit of mine. Eddie always noticed when I did this, and would check if I was okay. "Well, I assumed he was at work, but considering I am sitting in this room right now, it's safe to assume I was wrong."

The men adjusted in their seats and glanced at each other before the dorky one spoke to me, "Ms. Y/L/N, have you seen the news this morning?"

My heart was in my stomach. "I haven't seen the news yet, no. I tend not to consume my news through the traditional media, I believe that the major news channels give the general public biased information with the intention of fear mongering us into choosing their specific agenda." This was a lie, obviously. I mean, the part about not seeing the news yet. But I had to keep playing into their previous assumptions if they were going to believe me. It worked, because I watched them both physically restrain themselves from rolling their eyes. I thought Mustache was going to pop a blood vessel.

"Ms. Y/L/N, a student from Hawkins High was discovered this morning, brutalized. Her name was Chrissy Cunningham." He gulped and looked over at his companion before continuing, "and she was found at your boyfriend's house."

My heart now felt like it was in my asshole. I dropped my face into its best surprised look and said, breathless, "what?"

"Ms. Y/L/N, it is important that we know where Eddie is, so we can prove he is innocent. Are you sure you don't know where he is? There isn't anywhere he would go to, I don't know, get away for a while?" He thinks he's got me. I know he doesn't believe Eddie is innocent.

"No..I-I'm really not sure of somewhere like that."

"Do you know why Chrissy Cunningham would be at his house?"

"...no?" I put on my best distraught girlfriend look on my face. My Eddie? With a cheerleader?

They give each other another glance before the sheriff starts again, "So your boyfriend didn't let you know he had plans with Chrissy, and he hasn't let you know a safe space for him?" My blood starts to pump at the insinuation. "It doesn't sound like your relationship is that healthy."

"First of all," I begin, genuinely pissed now. "Eddie has been nothing less than perfect. Believe me, I have been with my fair share of assholes. My dad was the first in a long list. But Eddie has been the standout. The one to break the cycle. I have never once been scared of him. Did you know that one time, when we first started dating, he cried because he knocked over my plants when he was crawling through my bedroom window? He cried. He sat on my floor and cried over succulents." The officers share a glance. Sheriff scribbles something down, and Mustache sifts through the folder he had been holding and slides me a paper. The mangled, horrific scene of Chrissy's murder was staring me in the face. A shiver was sent down my spine as I imagined what she went through. But not at the hands of my Eddie. "You think Eddie is capable of this?!" I exclaim as I take in the horrific photo.

"You tell me. Has Eddie ever been…violent towards you?" Sheriff asks.

I shook my head no. “Never. He’s never even raised his voice at me. We actually used to argue about that, when we first started dating. I would get pissed because he was never irritated with me. Even when I was undoubtedly being a crazy bitch. He would say ‘How is it a problem that I am not mad at you right now?’ and then we would dissolve into a fit of laughter after I admitted I had no idea.” I finished, grinning at the memories. “That’s the kind of man he is, officer. He could never do something like this.” I said, gesturing to the crime scene photos, the silver ring that I stole from Eddie the last time I was at his place clanging against the metal table. "Now, if you will excuse me, this has been entirely unhelpful and upsetting. Since you have nothing to detain me on, I will be leaving. Promptly." The scraping of chairs sounded through the room as the officers resigned to letting me have my way. Since I was right, and they weren't getting any good information out of me anyway.

"Oh, and I will be needing my cigarettes back."

…..

"As soon as he showed me the crime scene photo, I knew there was no way a human being had done that, let alone Ed,” I explained to the group I was standing with in the video store. "I mean, the only reason he had Chrissy at his house was for a drug deal. I agree with Dustin and Max, something else is going on. Something bigger.”

“Y/N, do you know anyone that Eddie might go to for help?” Dustin questioned me.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I thought. “Well, other than me…” I thought out loud. “Reefer Rick!” I suddenly exclaimed after a moment. Steve and Robin jumped as I clapped.

“Who the hell is Reefer Rick?” Steve asked me, disdain practically running out of his mouth.

“A drug dealer friend of his. They have known each other for forever, and I think I know where to look for him.”

…..

"Reefer Rick!” Dustin yelled as we looked through the windows and banged on the door.

“Dude, seriously? Don’t say that out loud,” Steve worried.

“Yeah, Doofus,” Robin chuckled, and Nancy rolled her eyes.

“Hey guys!” I yelled as I rounded the corner of the house and shone my flashlight upon the metal shack behind the house.

…

“Come on Steve, how on earth is that helping?” I question exhaustively as Steve pokes around a tarp with an oar.

“If someone is here you will be thankful- AAH!” He finishes with a shout as the man of the hour, Eddie, leaps up and throws him against the wall with a broken beer bottle at his neck.

“WOAH WOAH WOAH MAN JUST TAKE IT EASY!” Steve manages to squeak out as both the men tremble with fear.

“What do you want?!” Eddie trembles, clearly terrified as he holds Steve to the wall with impressive strength. I'll be pinning that for later.

“Hey, hey, baby he’s with me!” I croon as I step closer with my hands up.

“Y/N?” Eddie visibly relaxes as he recognizes my voice.

“Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?” the clank of wood sounds around the shed as Steve immediately drops his makeshift weapon. “Eddie, your turn.” I say, standing right next to him. “I promise, you are safe with them. We believe you.” I finished with, sensing his hesitation.

“You do?” He says as he drops his hold on Steve and everyone collectively lets out a sigh of relief. Steve returns to the rest of our friends to catch his breath, as Eddie and I gaze into each other's eyes for a moment. Just as he reaches forward to grab my hand, I whip it back and give him a swift slap across the face. He stumbles back, holding his face as he stares at me with confusion.

"What the hell, dude? Why didn't you come get me? WHY would you not tell me? You're just gonna dip and leave me behind? Forget everything we've been through? God I am so fucking mad at you!" I finish as I lunge forward and capture him into a bear hug. "I'm so fucking mad at you but I am so, so glad you're okay baby," I say, softer now that my anger has subsided.

"I'm so sorry, babe," Eddie breathes into my hair. "I just didn't know what to do. How was I supposed to explain that a crazy demonic force killed someone in front of me? I didn't know how I was going to tell the cops, let alone you."

"I know you don't know this, but this isn't the first time I've dealt with this," I begin to explain.

“Yeah man. I know it sounds crazy, but we’ve seen some shit…” Dustin, Max. and Robin take turns explaining the past few years of our lives and how we know all about the weird shit that happens in Hawkins. Eddie’s eyes fill with tears of relief as he takes it all in. “So basically,we all just want to help you clear your name.” Robin states. Eddie's shoulders visibly relax as he takes it all in.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he practically collapses into me, capturing me in the tightest hug we’ve ever shared as he shakes with tears. "Thank you guys. I meant it. I was just so scared, it was terrifying."

“I know it was. But I want to remind you that you are not alone. I will always believe you. Except for when you say that Metallica is better than Fleetwood Mac. I can get behind the whole crazy demon thing, but disparaging Stevie Nicks’ name is where I draw the line.” I say as a breathtaking smile appears over Eddie’s face.

“Come on baby, I can’t start this with you right now,” he chuckles as he brushes hair out of my eye, forgetting our companions are in the same room as us.

“But seriously Ed, I’m behind you forever. We will get through this, I promise." I get lost in those beautiful, brown eyes that feel like home before capturing him in a kiss that felt like a breath of fresh air. He pulls me as close to his body as possible, with one hand around my waist and one hand in my hair. I throw my arms around his neck as I deepen the kiss, putting all the love, and comfort, and trust into it that I can. Just as his tongue made its way past my lips, I heard a groan come from the side of the room.

“Ew” “Come on” “Seriously guys?” “You couldn’t wait to make out later?” The gang sounds off as they tire of our PDA.

“Screw off guys, let me kiss my babe of a girlfriend in peace,’ Eddie shoots back with feigned annoyance as I chuckle, still captured in his arms.

Everything was going to be okay. As long as I had my Eddie, everything I needed would be okay.

#eddie munson is my bf (real)#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #st4 #stranger things

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my-obsess-shin · 1 year

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May I Have This Dance

So this is my first time posting any of my original stories on a public format. I’m really nervous. But anyway,

Kang Yeo Sang x female reader. (honestly a self insert, but I wanted it to read that any others who bias him would enjoy it and could place themselves in the story)

I sat on the floor of the ATEEZ practice room, watching my boyfriend Yeo Sang practice his choreography. He was such a hard worker, dedicated and trying his best. He had always felt like he wasn’t as strong of a performer as the other members, but he had honestly stolen my heart the first time I had ever seen him. Yeo Sang had worked so hard to overcome his anxiety, but he still worked that much harder to make up for what he thought were his own short comings. My back pressed against the mirrors, legs hugged to my chest, I watched as he stepped and turned to the music, his breath coming in slightly breathless gasps from his efforts. He stopped mid step and looked at me, cocking his head to the side.

“What are you grinning at?” He asked, blushing, “Did I mess up?”

“No, love, you were perfect. You always are.” I assured him. He blushed even deeper this time, covering his face with his hands.

“No, I have a lot more practice to do until I have this perfect. You don’t have to wait for me honestly. You’ll have to leave first anyway so the press won’t bother you.” He would probably be here late into the night. He always got like this with new choreography, or songs to learn. I shook my head.

“No, I’ll stay til you’re done. I like watching you dance.” I assured him, snuggling deeper into his jacket that I was wearing. He knelt on the floor in front of me, pushing his hair that was currently blonde and a bit longer out of his face.

“Well, surely you’re bored just watching me. And you’ve watched me enough times that you should have the moves down by now. Why don’t you dance with me?” He asked, extending his hand. I shook my head furiously.

“Oppa! I can’t dance like you! I can’t dance at all.” I exclaimed, shocked at his offer. I had the grace of a newborn giraffe, more of a contact sport athlete than a dancer.

“Of course you can! It’s easy, come on.” He pulled me to my feet. I could feel the heat in my cheeks as he looked at me in the mirror. My feet felt like cement and my knees trembled. I was not ready to embarrass myself in front of this man who was for all intents and purposes, a god of his craft. He turned toward me, sympathy flooding his eyes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me. Let’s start with something easier.” He suggested as he went over to the boombox on the floor and changed the song from the new ATEEZ choreography to something slower. Yeo Sang made his way back over to me and put one hand on my lower back and lifted mine to his shoulders, “Follow my lead.”

I nodded, feeling a fire burn in the pit of my stomach looking into his eyes. They were a beautiful shade of maple staring into my own. He had always said he wished he had Hong Joong’s deep black eyes, but Yeo Sang’s were the kind of eyes I could melt into, gentle and smooth, like pools of warm chocolate. I felt as he began to pull my body in the direction of the music and I stumbled a bit.

“I told you I can’t do this.” I laughed, blushing at my two left feet.

“Let’s try again. Look, you’re going to step forward into me, then we’re going to move to the side together, then step back, good! See? You’re getting the hang of it!” He encouraged me gently with his soft, deep voice. It wasn’t long before we were swaying together, his amazing leadership guiding me to make the right steps in time with him and music. But I was in another world, wrapped in his arms. My senses were amplified here, feeling the long, lithe fingers against the small of my back, his gentle breath in my ears, the smell of his cologne consuming me. I caught my gaze drifting to his beautiful, full and pouty lips, and felt the heat rise to my cheeks again. He smiled at me as he noticed I was looking at him. Yeo Sang took his hand that was on my own shoulder and tucked a strand of my long hair behind my ear.

“You look beautiful like this.” He whispered, throwing me off and causing me to stumble again, but this time, I was holding on to him and we both fell to the practice floor, dissolving into a pile of giggling, tangled arms and legs trying to separate themselves. We had finally sorted ourselves out, breathing heavy from the laughter, when suddenly, I felt Yeo Sang’s warm gentle hand on my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my fair skin, drifting down to my lips, less full and slightly chapped compared to his. He pulled my face towards his and my breath caught in my throat.

“Yeo Sang...” I said quietly, worried someone might see us. He seemed to read my mind.

“No one’s here. They went home hours ago. And we don’t get many moments to steal like this.” He said quietly as he closed the gap between us. I melted into his kiss, his touch sparking off my tongue like so many fireworks. My own mouth worked furiously, my lips dancing open and shut as his tongue slipped in and out. I could feel my heart racing, and when I placed my hand on his chest, his own heart was thundering in it. After some moments, we finally pulled ourselves apart and grinned at each other.

“I love you.” I whispered, the words escaping my lips without thought. His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrow at me in surprise, before pulling me close, burying my head in his chest, smothering me in the warmth of his arms. I felt his lips drop to the top of my head.

“I love you, too” he murmured into my hair as he held me close. I felt like my world was complete. There was nothing else I needed other than him

#kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez yeosang #atiny #fanfiction #yeosangxfemreader #fanfic #ultimate bias #bias #ATEEZ #female reader #romantic #fluff #love story #short story #ateez fic #yeo sang fic

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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Little Border Town

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck.

Featuring italrry as well as mustachrry! and running italrry... I hope y’all like! this is just part one, so much more is in store so pls let me know what you think :) lots of love - first fic that’s not named from a quote said in the story I’m shook!! the growth, the range...she has it apparently! side note: i had to change the gif from italrry/mustachrry bc something is whack with the formatting and either the keep reading or the title keeps disappearing so i tried some stuff to resolve it *sobbing*

Word Count: 8.5k | Warnings: swearing, mentions of relatives death, bickering, otherwise tame for now?

Pt. 2

There’s a little town that straddles the border between Italy and France. It’s just a little ways from Nice on the French side and Ventimiglia on the Italian side. The population is rather small and the tourists who come are usually either returners or are very very lost. One street you’re in France and the next you’re in Italy. It can be confusing to newcomers, but the locals love it -- for the most part. These streets are easily delineating as French or Italian by the little country flags that hang above all the shops or in the windows.

It’s a coastal town with cobblestone everywhere and bright painted buildings. The water is a soft blue and the wind barely ever brings any waves greater than a foot high. There’s a shop for everything and it seems to be frozen in the past from the outside, thankfully if you step into the tiny bed and breakfast there is wifi. The sun almost always shines down on this sweet piece of paradise, the winter does however bring gusting winds and thunderstorms. Those storms rattle the little town and afterwards you’ll find the residents picking up the pieces that have fallen off the shops.

Now, this little border town, with its streets separated by French and Italian customs, well almost all of them, it seems imperative to mention. There, in the exact middle of the little town, is one street that is split down the middle, half in France and half in Italy. The locals from the French and the Italian sides love that street the most because it has this certain dynamic spark of change that brings them together, makes them unique. Except for two locals that seemingly hate this street. These two locals aren’t actually true locals either. They both moved there a couple years ago.

Harry, from the Italian side, owns the shoemaker and repair shop. He hailed from England and moved to the little town when his great uncle, Joe, had sent him a letter pleading for him to take over his shop so that he could retire. Harry, ever the traveler, hopped on the next flight out to Italy and then traversed by train and bus until he reached his Joe’s home. Like most of the shops, there was a living space above the shop area. Harry lived there with Joe until he passed away a few years back leaving Harry to tend the store alone. He didn’t mind too much, being left there alone. He had always loved Italy and to get to live in the countryside in a little cobblestone town and own a shop was a dream come true. After living there for two years, he had bought a sailboat that he would take out when the shop was closed. He also had bought himself a motorcycle that he would ride to the next greatest city if he was ever in dire need of more of a nightlife as a 26 year old. He loved it, his own slice of paradise… except for his thorn in his side.

Y/N, from the French side, owns the bookstore, which carries lots of vintage books and records. She had moved there after college. In school, she had studied French and taken a year abroad in Paris and had traveled down to Nice for a month. While in Nice she had made a few friends and one of them had come from the little border town. They had insisted they all go there for a weekend. When Y/N stepped foot onto the street she now lived on a few years before, she fell in love. Seeing the little Italian and French flags in the windows and potted plants with a view of the sea had been so endearing to her.

She was drawn to the bookshop and had chatted up the old French woman who ran it. The woman had reminded Y/N of someone but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. It was strange for her because she often found these connections with older people, she felt like she had known this woman her whole life. Y/N went back into the store the next two days she was there to talk to the woman again, Marie, she had learned. Before she left the little town she left her number with Marie and kept in some contact with her. After about a year though, their communication fell off. Y/N was sad but understood that life can be busy for people and that she obviously wasn’t the most important woman in the little border town bookkeeper’s life. Or so she thought. In the middle of the summer after she graduated college, Y/N was backpacking through Iceland and got a call from who she assumed was Marie. She was ecstatic and answered the call immediately. Sadly, it wasn’t Marie, instead a friend who had been given her will to execute. In her will she had left Y/N the bookshop. Her reasoning was similar to why Y/N had liked Marie so much, she said that Y/N had reminded her of her sister who had died unexpectedly in her teenage years. Being so far from home at the time and completely consumed with love and loss, Y/N had agreed to take over the shop without any hesitation.

She got home and informed her parents of her choice and moved to the little border town as soon as she could. She lived in the little area above the shop that Marie had also gifted to her and she tended the shop downstairs. The living area hadn’t really been cleaned out and Y/N had found an old collection of vinyls in the corner of the bedroom. As much as she wanted to keep them to herself, she thought it would be a good addition to the shop and had made a section for records in memory of Marie. She loved France and the coast, she bought a little car and would drive to Nice every so often or to the more sandy beaches along the French coast. It was quiet and different from the life she had maybe expected, but taking over a bookshop because a kind stranger had gifted it to you as one of their dying wishes wasn’t something Y/N could ever turn down. Her soul was too sweet. At least it was for most people, not for her neighbor though.

Her neighbor was the shoemaker, Harry. Their shops lived against one another even though he was on the Italian side and she was on the French. They were located exactly at the split between France and Italy. With less than a foot between the buildings, they saw a lot of each other. On their first interaction, Y/N had seen too much of her neighbor, meaning she had seen all of him. Their shops were similar to track homes, meaning they were built completely the same only mirrored. This meant that the windows of their bedrooms matched up exactly, she wondered who had thought that was a good idea after her first night. When Y/N had first moved in it was August, she left her window open and without the shade down to let as much fresh cool air in as possible. With her jet lag, she had found herself wide awake at about three am. Pacing around her room in the pink silk tank dress she had decided to sleep in, her eyes froze on her window - or rather, who she saw through her window. The light from her room and the moon were strong enough to illuminate the tanned and tattooed skin of the naked man in the room next to her. He held a bowl in his large hands that he seemed to be spooning cereal into his mouth from.

His half-lidded eyes flickered to the light coming from the place next door. The bookshop had been closed all summer and no one had been living in the upper area for a little longer than that so he had gotten into the habit of leaving his window open. He was half drunk after stumbling his way home from the tiny bar down the street. He had decided a naked cereal run would be a good idea to tide over his cravings. But upon seeing the girl wearing lingerie a mere two feet away from him, separated by the screens on their open windows, he realized that wasn’t actually true. His eyes widened only slightly as he saw her, his drunkenness allowing him to keep his blushing to a minimum. His drunken confidence kept him from covering himself as he lifted a single brow and made a salute with his spoon hand before going back to his bed.

She stayed at the window for a moment after the naked man disappeared and then quickly ran back to her bed. She shut off her light and tried not to think about everything she had seen. She tried to not think about his toned arms that flexed as he moved around his food, or the tattoos that lined every part of his body (the tiger and ferns seared into her mind specifically), or his tousled chestnut hair, or his searing green eyes, or the full mustache that held a little milk from his cereal. She tried, she really did. But how was she supposed to face her neighbor ever again after that. Maybe he wasn’t her neighbor, she reasoned, maybe he was an acquaintance her neighbor had just spent the night with. That wouldn’t be better! Her hands grabbed her other pillow and shoved it over her face trying to force herself to go to bed.

The next day, she had been working out front of the bookshop, beginning to repaint the windowsills of the shop with some navy paint she had found in the back to give it an updated look. It was early and she hadn’t expected to see anyone at all. Her jet lag still ailed her and caused her to be up bright and early. This was her second run in with the shoemaker, this time though, both to her dismay and joy, he was fully clothed. He wasn’t watching where he was going and almost toppled the both of them over as he left his store front, locked the door behind him, and then set off down the street. His large body, covered in short black running shorts and a mesh grey tank top, bumped into her almost immediately. He was still fiddling with his music on his phone as he began his run. She jumped back and dropped the paintbrush from her hand. She yelped as his body collided with hers and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned her and took in the light wash cuffed jeans and moss ribbed tank top she was wearing. They widened when he recognized her face, the expression of shock similar to that of last night when she had seen him in his bedroom. He smirked and took out one of his earbuds. She grabbed her paintbrush from the ground as he extended his hand to her.

“I’m Harry,” his hand is greeted with hers. He speaks to her in English and she decides it’s probably best to follow along with whatever someone else began with. She worried that she’d run into a lot of Italians who didn’t know French or English and she’d have some trouble. His eyes flicker to the bits of blue already littered on her hands and in her hair.

“Y/N.” She nods, avoiding eye contact with the man she had already seen too much of. At least he’s not your neighbor’s lover, he’s just your neighbor. She also notices how he doesn’t apologize for running into her.

“You were spying on me last night,” his hand returns to his side and his smile quirks up again as he watches her face flush. His nicely groomed mustache twitches, trying to contain his laughter.

“I was not!” She finally looks up at the taller man and takes in his tanned face that is even more attractive in the morning light and up so close. The hat he wears is funny, a blue trucker’s hat that read “If you ain’t a fisherman, you ain’t shit!”, and she would laugh if she couldn’t already tell he was going to be extremely annoying.

His smirk continues and he barks out a laugh. He removes his sunglasses to really look at her now. “It’s alright, I work hard for this,” he gestures to his body, “glad someone appreciates it. Just means I’ll need to be installing a shade now, I guess.”

“You don’t have a shade and you walk around your room naked?” She ignores his first bit of conversation. She can’t think about his body or how it had looked last night. She sets down her paintbrush and folds her arms across her chest, trying to figure the man in front of her out.

“No… but it’s not all my fault. You had your shade open too! Who’s willingly up at that time of night anyway? I was just fixing myself a snack after the pub.” He raises his brows triumphantly at her, feeling confident that he has gotten the upperhand in the conversation.

She narrows her eyes at him as she finally registers that his accent isn’t Italian or French. He’s British and she wonders what he’s done to get himself in this little border town. He also seems to own the shop beside her since he locked the door behind him. He was peculiar, but she couldn’t dwell on what she thought about him since he had just accused her of being a peeping tom.

“Someone is up at that hour because she just moved and has terrible jet lag and can’t sleep. The place has been completely closed up for months and I needed to get as much cool air in as possible before the hot day. That’s why I was up and that’s why my shade wasn’t down.” She stands up straighter and rolls her eyes at him, muttering something in French to herself about annoying men. She smiles to herself when Harry doesn’t seem to understand. He obviously can tell she said something, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He could understand a good bit of French and he could speak some, but if someone spoke quickly and quietly, like she had just done, he wouldn’t be able to make it out. He figured it was something rude, though, with the way she sounds and begins to turn from him.

“Are you here to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Well, welcome to the best place in the world. It was so nice, two countries couldn’t decide who got to keep it and decided to split it.”

His arm sweeps out around him, gesturing to the street around him. She smiles up at him before following his arms movement. His arm had more tattoos than she had realized from her eyeful last night. She noticed the intricacies of all the black ink and again she had a million questions that she had to keep to herself. He was arrogant, conceited, impatient and a little bit odd and she knew all of this after barely one conversation. At least they could agree on one thing, they loved this town.

He looked back at her after scanning the street and saw her smiling in wonderment at everything around her. This brought a fleeting genuine smile to his face, knowing she was happy to be there. He had known Marie and was sad to see her go less than a year after his great uncle. He had always thought that Marie and Joe were both secretly pining over each other. Constantly stopping into each other’s shops and waving from their windows at each other, but Joe had always shaken his head at Harry when he mentioned it.

His smile faded when her eyes came back to his fac face face. Her smile disappeared as well. “Right, so, see you around…?” He said, already forgetting her name. She scoffs when she realizes what happened and then repeats her name. He nods curtly before replacing his sunglasses and single airpod and starts running again. She calls after him, “Thanks for the apology!” and then mutters to herself, “le con” knowing she shouldn’t shout that down the street where other people speak French. He doesn’t hear any part of it, his music up high enough to drown out the sounds of the world.

Y/N settled into the bookshop fairly easily, but she never failed to mention how unhelpful Harry had been:

“Yes, well, it’s been going pretty good...except for this one man. Well, I’d hardly call him a man - a boy. My neighbor, actually, he owns the shoe shop...no, nevermind that, he practically made it his mission to make my move the hardest thing in the world...Harry -- yes, that’s his name, Mama… well I don’t know, It’s just Harry. - it doesn’t matter! He’s been in my way at every turn… yes, both physically and metaphorically...I’m not kidding! And I’m not being dramatic… Well, It was nice talking to you. Love you, talk soon.”

That was her first telephone conversation with her mother since arriving in the little town. Maybe ten days after she arrived. Naturally, she had it in the downstairs area of her home, the bookstore. And naturally, Harry had wandered in, to discuss one of their shared planters, and overheard her entire side of the conversation and gathered the rest from his own imagination. When she had laid eyes on him after setting down her phone, she rolled her eyes at the smirking Chesire cat look on his face.

“You would be the kind of man to eavesdrop, hm?” She restacked a group of books that were already in order.

“Thought I was a boy?” his smirk remained on his face. He strided closer to the counter she stood behind.

“Like I said...What can I help you with?” Her voice drips with venom as she finally turns her eyes to look at Harry. His smirk still remains on his face now that she is making eye contact with him. He’s clad in a t-shirt that has some baseball team on it with burgundy corduroy flared jeans. She notices the strain of the shirt over his chest and biceps and avoids the scoff of how vain he must be to keep himself in that good of shape for tending a shoe store in the South of France, or rather Northern Italy…

“Right, Thought I’d pop in and tell you that one of our planters is shared. So you’ll have to talk to me before replanting anything. I noticed you coming in with tulips the other day.”

“The ones on the front of the street?” He nods as her head turns to glance out the front window. “Why the hell do we share a planter?”

“Because, my late great Uncle Joe and Marie fancied each other.” Her eyes went wide at his words, trying to think of Marie having a crush on someone. “They were never together, never admitted the fancying, but they always did the planters together. They each had one of their own and then bought the third together, said it made sense to make the shops look nice...I know it was just so they had more to tend to - together.”

She hums, taking in everything that he said and how his eyes shine slightly just at the mention of his uncle. His voice had perked at the story he had just spun for her and she smiles thinking about the idea of love and loving someone so much that you’re content with simply planting flowers together. It seemed really old-fashioned to her, but it also brought even more charm to the town she now called home. Romance was still alive here, or so she hoped.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to let you know when I’ve decided what flowers I want to put in there.” She turns around, assuming the end of the conversation and getting back to work. She doesn’t really find a reason to entertain Harry anymore than necessary. Like she told her mother, he was constantly in her way or being naked in his room, something she had chosen to leave out of her conversation with her mom.

“You’ve misunderstood me. Maybe my English is getting rusty, I rarely speak it since everyone else knows Italian.” She flips around at his rude comment, eyes alight with fire once again. “If you want to replant anything, which I don’t understand why you would, the flowers I put are wonderful, we’ll have to discuss it. It’s not you just telling me you’ll be doing it. We own it equally and I won’t let you bulldoze my hard work.”

“On a planter?!”

She sticks on a sickly sweet smile as she tries to refrain from laughing. “I guess the countryside really can make some people enjoy the simpler things in life…” With that she walks to the back of the shop, leaving the stunned Harry to see himself out of it. When the little bell rings, her stifled laughter can be heard among the books.

It doesn’t matter what it is, Harry and Y/N are able to make a fuss about anything and the whole street, if not the whole town, had quickly figured that out. No one had a problem with Y/N, they welcomed her with open arms. Marie had told the entire French side and a good amount of the Italian side how wonderful and tenacious she was. How Y/N reminded Marie of her sister and upon meeting her, many agreed. But the first time Harry and Y/N had a public row, at the bakery in the center of town, on the French side, everyone was quick to realize that there was bound to be trouble between the two. It was a stark contrast to the loving comments and endearing looks the previous owners had always engaged in when they were still alive. This fight was maybe a few days after the planter business and Y/N had tried in the following days to get him to change the planters to no avail so she was in an especially pissed off mood towards Harry.

“Could you be taking any longer?” Y/N rolled her eyes as she stood behind her tall neighbor, her foot impatiently tapping a beat against the stone floor.

Harry stood hunched in front of the display case, scanning for exactly what he wanted and desperately trying to remember what he had come here for. He was a bit more dressed up that day, his mother had been coming to visit him for the first time in a while and he wanted to look nice and have a special treat for her when she arrived. His trousers were a deep navy that matched the navy of the stripes on his sweater vest, the blue pinstripes of the button down underneath was a slightly lighter shade, but blue nonetheless. He had rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, showing off his various tattoos and sinewy arms. As his eyes scanned over the case again, he ran through his mental list and bit at his lip, knowing he was forgetting something. He barely even heard her drawl out her insult, the tapping of her foot eventually getting his attention due to its faltering.

She straightened upright from her hip jutted position when he didn’t even bite at her unkind words. Her foot stopping its melody. As she was about to give another go, Harry turned around and she gave him her full look of displeasure.

“Country life requires a bit of patience. I doubt you’ve ever had to wait your turn in your life, but you’ll have to get used to it here.”

Her eyes roll instinctively. She noticed that they seemed to do it just at the mention of his name or the sound of his voice. She had always thought herself a lover of the British accent, citing Downton Abbey and various famous musicians - Freddie Mercury, George Harrison, Elton John, etc. - as members of that little island who were formative to her identity, loving them for their talents as well as their accent. Yet with Harry’s deep meandering British voice, she found herself wishing to be anywhere but in its presence. She found that he took so long to ever get out an actual full thought and when he did it was barely coherent. He also never failed to let his sarcasm or smugness drip into his tone, causing her to audibly be aware of the smirk on his face even if she couldn’t see it. The image flashing across her mind no matter what.

“You’ll have to let me know when you’ll be here again…” His eyebrows quirk at her odd response and it’s her turn to smirk up at him. She’s already satisfied with her quip even though she’s only gotten half of it out. His mouth opens to question her, but she finishes her thought. “That is, so I can plan around you. If I have to alot a whole day to the boulangerie just waiting for you… I’ll never get settled.”

Harry scoffs and a fleeting expression of actual offense flashes across his features before turning around to finish his order. The others in line and the worker are all equally wide eyed and she hears some hushed whispering behind her, but it’s in Italian so she can’t make it out. The worker eyes Y/N as she rings up the rest of Harry’s chosen items. The worker smiles softly at Harry, feeling for the man she had known long enough to know that he wasn’t as rude as he was being with Y/N. She was also taken aback at Y/N’s response, but hadn’t seen her be rude otherwise so she had to assume it simply had something to do with the man.

When Harry is all set, he turns to leave and pass Y/N again. His eyes narrow and his words once again are turned nasty. “I wouldn’t mind if you never got settled,” he said before muttering something in Italian under his breath and leaving the store. She assumed it to be nasty as she eyed the couple behind her giggling, before walking to talk with the worker.

She shook her head trying to rid herself of her cold exterior that she kept having to conjure up for Harry. Now smiling, she asks for her items in French, happy to be speaking the language that brought her so much joy rather than English which seemed to be reserved only for Harry now. She hadn’t gone to the Italian side very much yet and the people she had met over there so far had spoken French to her once she had introduced herself.

As the worker finished with Y/N’s order, she asked in a hushed tone, in French, “How do you know Mr. Styles?”

“Harry?” Y/N guessed, not actually knowing Harry’s last name until now. The girl behind the counter smiles quickly before nodding. “Mon voison” she sighs and contains the accompanying eye roll when she sees the girl blush at the idea of being neighbors with Harry. “He’s a brat,” she continues and the girl laughs lightly before saying, “I think he’s rather sweet… not bad to look at either.” She looks out the window of the shop wistfully, like Harry’s still there and Y/N whips her head around, afraid he knew that she was talking about him. Thankfully, he was gone and Y/N laughs to herself when she feels the anxiety that had gripped her for a moment dissipates. Shaking her head at the girl, she grabs her items and change from her before making a break for the door.

It was soon after that incident that Harry and Y/N’s squabbles became notorious throughout the little town. Drama wasn’t common there and any sort of excitement was the talk of the town. It made sense that this was snapped up by the gossipers from the French and Italian sides alike.

Anne, Harry’s mother, was stopped the next day, when she was out for coffee and Harry was still at the shop, and was asked why her son was so angry at the new bookshop owner. She thought it made sense for her to drop into the bookshop next to her son’s shop after hearing that. Walking into the shop, she was greeted with the smell of lavender and the sweet melody of a love song. She immediately smiled at the charm of the bookstore, feeling like there was a bit more life in it then there had been the last time she had come in. Harry had told her that Marie had passed, but not that someone new had taken over and she was eager to meet them, especially now that she had been told about the town gossip.

A messy haired, but bright eyed Y/N came trotting out of the bookshelves at the sound of the door opening. A smile beamed on her face when she saw the mature brunette woman standing just inside the doorway. “Bonjour! Bienvenue!” She greets as she smooths some of her unkempt hair. Y/N had been digging around the back shelves of the store searching for a specific book one of her other customers had asked about yesterday. And much to her dismay, she wasn’t being very successful. When the woman only says “Bonjour” and makes no inclination that she plans to speak more French, Y/N believes it’s safe to assume she’s a tourist and switches to English. “Can I help you?”

Anne laughs happily to hear English and walks over to the counter that Y/N had walked behind. “Yes, Hi! My son lives here and I’ve just come to visit him. He didn’t tell me someone had taken over Marie’s shop.” Y/N perks at the name of Marie and she smiles sincerely at the woman now. Not quite a tourist, yet not quite a local, she noted for herself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. I was a friend of Marie’s, so to say, and she left me the place.” Pausing, Y/N turns over the vinyl that had just finished side A, and then returns to her place at the counter. “I’m still really new, but it’s a small town. I don’t know of many other people who weren’t born here who live here, though, who’s your son?” She rests her elbows on the counter and leans on them while staring at the kind woman. She had noticed the British accent, but hadn’t connected the dots yet. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have a British accent when they spoke English so it didn’t necessarily mean she was from England. But maybe Y/N should have noticed the light eyes and brown hair, maybe that should have been an indicator as well. Or the way she had said ‘my son’ and nodded in the way of the shoe shop. But no matter what, it came as a shock when the woman with the coffee in hand said what she said next.

“My son is your neighbor! He runs the shoe repair shop. His great uncle, my ex-husband’s uncle, left it to him a couple years ago.” Y/N’s eyes widen so much so that she has to blink a few times to assure herself they haven’t popped out of her head.

“Harry...is your son?” She speaks slowly and Anne smiles at the girl. She nods and Y/N nods back, taking the news in. He has a mother...she guessed she should have expected that. It had been unlikely that her theory of him being sent straight from hell to make her life just like it was accurate.

“Here you are mum! What are you doin’ in here?” Harry rushes through the door when he sees his mother inside from the window. Y/N rolls her eyes on cue, but still notices the soft adoring look on his face while he gazes at his mother. She supposes she can concede that he isn’t the spawn of satan now. His look hardens when he turns to Y/N, who has straightened up to her full height upon his arrival.

“I was just meeting the new bookshop owner, Y/N!” She looks between Harry and Y/N. “What’s this about you being angry with her?” She asks more to Harry, but Y/N hears easily. Harry’s eyes flash at Y/N and her eyes widen once again, but shrugs to Harry, having no idea where his mother had gotten that idea.

“What did you say-”

“I didn’t say anything! I’d just realized she was your mother right before you walked in!”

“It’s true. Someone said something about it to me at the coffee shop. Of course, I didn’t even know the book shop even had a new owner, so I decided to come by.”

“It’s nothing, mum,” Harry insists.

“Harry and I...we just don’t exactly see eye to eye. But, I’m sure we’ll warm up to each other eventually,” she easily lies through her teeth, knowing she really couldn’t see herself ever being friends with this prick. “Feel free to look around the shop, it’s not exactly to my liking yet, but then again, I am just getting settled. Otherwise, you two should enjoy your time together. I’m sure it’s not often you can make the time to journey all the way out here.” She smiles sweetly at Anne, choosing to ignore Harry completely.

“Thank you, Y/N. Harry can be an acquired taste for some, but just below that exterior of his, he’s a giant softy.” Harry groans at his words, Y/N’s smile only grew.

“Au revoir! Good Day!” She calls when they leave the shop rather swiftly. It seemed to her that Harry was desperate to get his mother out of the shop as soon as possible, while Anne was happy to browse and look at what had been changed in the shop.

Their early unhappy encounters were now months ago. But encounters of a similar caliber happened at least once a week. It’s hard to avoid a neighbor who you seem to find anything they do to be an annoyance, even their existence. They saw each other around town and at their shops and in their bedrooms. Even though they didn’t particularly like each other, hated was actually the correct word, the drawing of the shades was a near impossible task with the heat that plagued the little town between August and Mid-October.

They had fought over who could leave their shade open and who couldn’t because Harry believed only one of them had to close it to maintain privacy but then he wouldn’t settle on an agreement on taking turns closing shades. Y/N argued that they could both leave them open if he would agree to stop walking around his room naked all the time, but he refused that as well, at first. He conceded after a week of having his shade drawn that he would wear boxers. Therefore, practically every night, Y/N and Harry would see each other before bed since they actually seemed to have the same sleep habits. Sometimes she would have to yell at him to close his window if he came home with a guest and he would yell at her to turn off her light if she was reading or watching television in bed too late.

Thankfully, it was approaching the end of October and the weather would begin to change. There wouldn’t be a reason to have the window or shade open and they at least wouldn’t have to see each other right before bed.

This morning, Y/N is up early, she found it amazing to wake up early here, something she had never done before this little border town. It was teaching her new things about herself and changing her, but she liked it. In deep forest green flared pants and a long sleeved rainbow striped shirt, Y/N is watering the planters in front of her shop as well as the little ones attached below the windows. It was always a little cool in the mornings, but she had checked her weather app and seen that it was actually going to be the first cold day of the season. The first cold day since she had arrived actually. As much as she liked the sun, she also loved fall and winter, so she was excited to experience them for the first time in the little border town.

She smiles to herself as she moves around gracefully. In her back pocket, her music plays softly, Paul Simon sings lovingly to her. She hums along and moves to deal with the planter at the edge of the sidewalk. But she’s foiled by a man she seems to think about far too much for how much she says she dislikes him. Harry jogs back a half step upon realizing he has run into her yet again. One would assume that one of them would either change their routine or know to step out of the way or really just be a little bit more aware of their surroundings with how many times this has happened since Y/N’s arrival. Of course, their stubborn personalities actually require them to be unrelenting in this area of their lives as well. Much like the shade debate, the who was in the way of who debate is still majorly undecided.

“Oi!” He looks down at his shirt and it has a substantial wet spot on it. She had spilled some of the watering can’s contents.

“Excuse you!” She says simultaneously, not realizing she’d gotten water on him.

“I’m not the one who just threw water on someone.”

“Neither am I. You ran into me, it’s not my fault you never look where you’re going.”

“You’re just always in my way. This has been my route for ages, I’m not going to change it just because you moved in next door.” His hands fly around in annoyance and anger.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Well! I can’t stand you!

“Clearly!” “Cleary.” They’re both huffing out insults that don’t seem to really be going anywhere. Harry has straightened his posture for once and she actually finds his true height slightly intimidating. They both breath for a moment, finding no other words to fill the tranquil morning silence that they had just disturbed.

“Are we ever going to have a conversation where we’re not at each other’s throats?” She sighs, feeling upset that the nice Fall day was suddenly ruined for the rest of time just because of this.The bickering with Harry was tedious and she couldn’t keep going like this. Being in a completely new place and running a small business was hard enough as it is. Something snapped in her just then, hoping to squash a part of her life that is causing her stress and exhaustion.

Harry’s expression falters, his eyes losing that glint of angered passion for a moment, he wasn’t expecting that response. It wasn’t necessarily mean, it was more like she was resigned. Simply done with the conversation. He felt his anger and annoyance slip away rather quickly at her question. She sees his mustache twitch, which she realized happened when he was either amused or confused. She didn’t think what she said was funny so she presumed he wasn’t sure what to make of what she had just said. Her head tilts to the side and waits for his response. Her watering can falls to her side now, making herself a little more comfortable and leaving only a small amount of air between her and Harry.

“Tired out already? Thought you were more of a competitor than that.” He mirrors her by tilting his head as well.

“I didn’t realize we were in any sort of competition.” She stepped forward and straightened her posture a little, feeling challenged by the tone he had taken. She may have a kind and soft exterior for most, but she was nothing if not fierce in her core. She was an Aries afterall. She wondered what Harry might be, she wasn’t super into astrology, but she was sure that he wasn’t an Aries. Aries were fiery and passionate and were very unwilling to admit defeat, so he had just hit the exact right note to keep her from squashing their now long-standing quarrel.

“We’re not. I just thought I had met my match, guess I was wrong.”

He looks off in the distance to be nonchalant, like he wasn’t trying to bait her even if that’s exactly what he was going for. Sure, he found her annoying, for whatever reason. But he had realized when she had posed the question, that he hadn’t had this much excitement in a while. Nothing and no one really challenged him in the little border town, his work was easy enough, money wasn’t tight, friends were easily made, and partners for the night were easy to find. He didn’t dislike any of those facts, truly, he counted himself lucky and was overjoyed that he lived there. But the verbal sparring he engaged in with Y/N fulfilled a need he hadn’t realized was going unsatisfied. He would never admit it, but she was often a highlight of his day. Getting into a little quarrel with her brought a smile to his face when he recalled it later. The bird she had started to flip him before bed made him genuinely laugh. He liked it, so when she seemed to want it to end, he did what he knew would make her change her mind. Tease her.

“I see...bonne journée, cul.” She decided to bid him farewell, knowing he didn’t plan on apologizing any time soon. She turned her body from him and Harry understood enough French that she had ended the conversation with a “good day”. He also knew that she had called him an “ass” as well. His brows raised for a moment at the insult before giving a flicked salute in her direction and jogging off for his morning run.

For some reason, after a moment of knowing Harry had gone she glanced up in his direction and watched his retreating figure. And for some reason she found herself looking back down at the flowers and smiling to herself. Somewhere inside her she was glad Harry hadn’t given into her veiled request to stop fighting. It was a strange sensation because as tiring it was to bicker with him, she feared if they stopped then they would stop talking at all and her heart panged at the thought. She didn’t know why and she didn’t care to know why either.

The bell of the book shop chimes and Y/N pops up from behind the counter. She had been crouched out of sight trying to organize the books of notes on customers Marie had left that Y/N had only just found. She hadn’t realized the cabinet existed in the counter so when she accidentally slid it open she was a little taken aback. Still, she was quickly distracted by the new customer. Her cream collared shirt was unbuttoned to where her collarbone and decalotage were on display, some gold medallions hanging around her neck today. Her worn light wash blue jeans were barely visible behind the counter due to her height. In her hair was a classic red bandana, pulling back her hair out of her face save for the strands that worked themselves free on their own accord.

Her smile was wide, happy to see the first customer of the day as she pinched at her shirt to make sure it was in place. Her posture slumped immediately when she realized that her first customer wasn’t a likely customer at all, instead who else but Harry. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he strolled in and right up to the counter. He leaned his large body down to rest his head in his hands and look up at her. He crossed one ankle over his other, getting comfortable as he stared wickedly up at her.

She wet her lips and took a step back. It was her first look at him today, apparently missing him on his morning run. Maybe she should have thought something of that after their encounter yesterday, but she didn’t. Like most days, his trousers were high waisted, Gucci likely - how he afforded them, she had no clue - and his usual shirt had now been accompanied with a striped red, black, and yellow open cardigan. His hair looked wet like he had just taken a shower, most of it was pushed up but a few strands fell over his large forehead. His mustache looked freshly trimmed and the rest of his facial hair had yet to leave any shadow after his obvious shave.

“Harry.” She says definitively, regarding him with even contempt.

“Ice Queen.” He levels, eyes narrowing.

She scoffs immediately. “At least give me something original...or accurate maybe. I may not like you, but ice queen? Hardly.”

He genuinely chuckles at her quick response and nods, agreeing easily with her for once. “You’re right. It was weak, I’ll admit. Feel like you need a nickname though, thought something really rude might upset you.” He smirks cheekily. His agreement doesn’t make her feel like she’s won at all, unsurprisingly.

She rolls her eyes at his comment. “Care to let me know why you’re gracing me with your presence today, Mr. Styles?” Moving around the counter, she begins to walk to the back of the shop, assuming Harry would follow her if he needed to. He apparently did and walked after her after realizing she wasn’t coming back.

He gives a half-laugh, “Yeah, I came in for a new record. I saw you decided to restock them...thought I’d pop in. It’s easier to get them here than order online...Curtain-hater.” He adds the name as an afterthought.

She glances at him from the bookcase she’s standing at, her eyes shifting to meet his. A smile fades into her features as she can’t contain the giggle at his new attempt at a nickname. She then wrinkles her nose, “That isn’t good either, but proficient try, I guess.” She gives him points for actually relating the name to her in some way, but it still doesn’t incite any anger in her which she knows is what he is going for. She probably should question herself why she’s helping Harry to nickname her something rude, but alas, she doesn’t. He nods solemnly, knowing she’s right again. He needs to find a nickname for her and he doesn’t know why, but he’s glad she seems alright with him giving her one, so long as it is fitting.

Her body shifts from the bookcase over to the boxes she had gotten to hold the vinyls. She had a small collection since the place was small overall, but Marie’s old collection had sold successfully so she had restocked afterwards, this time choosing some of her personal favorites.

“I’m not sure of your taste...I know you bought Marie’s Ella Fitzgerald album last time.” She sifts through the records, trying to find something she thought he might want. Like she said, she didn’t know what he liked, but she prided herself on knowing music and as an owner helping a customer, she wanted to please Harry. She knew he liked Ella from his previous purchase and she knew he liked Marvin Gaye in the evenings when he had guests - how very cliche she would add. “I mostly got in 70’s/80’s rock...Elton, Queen -”

“Got any Paul Simon?” Harry cuts her off and she looks at him surprised. Her fingers stopped when she looked up at him, their tips placed on the peaks of the albums covers. “Thought I heard it here the other day?”

Her face perks up at the mention, she loved Paul Simon. “That was on my phone, but I do actually. Well, it’s Simon & Garkunkel. I can order something from just Paul Simon whenever I have to order again if you want?” Their gazes are holding each other’s, her fingers still rubbing over the pointed edges of the two albums she had between her hands. Harry’s watching her and leaning against the table the boxes sit on.

He nods after a moment. “That’d be great.”

“You’ll have to tell me which records of his you already have so I can order something new for you.” She grabs the Simon & Garfunkel album and flips it to Harry so he can look it over.

He regards the Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme cover reading over the fine print with all the tracks listed on the bottom right. “Thanks,” he mutters out after another moment of silence. It was rarely this quiet between these two, so it was different. “I’ll take it, Shrimp.”

“Oh my god!” She gasps before bursting into a fit of laughter. He had actually made her laugh and his eyes widen at the sound, almost confused that she hadn’t scoffed. Her laughter was far louder now then the half-hearted chuckle she had given earlier, which really was probably just another scoff. This laugh was loud and unbridled, but melodic and fun. In the back of Harry’s mind, he noted that he liked it. The first bullet point on a list that was likely to grow. “That works, just the perfect amount of rude. I love and hate it at the same time.” She finishes before walking back to the front. Harry saunters after her, pleased with himself.

“I’d like to say I wasn’t looking for your approval, but I guess I sorta was,” he ponders out loud as she takes the record back from him to type in the correct spelling into her relatively new computerized system. She twists her mouth to the side of her face to refrain from smiling anymore and then hums. Her eyes flit back up to Harry’s triumphant smile and for once she doesn’t want to slap it off of him.

“People-pleaser…” She prods him easily. His smile falters only slightly, not out of unhappiness, but of borderline jealousy.

“How do you come up with that so easily? It just rolls off the tongue,” He asks seriously, confused by the woman before him. This time she laughs as she hands him back the record and a copy of his receipt.

“I’m well read, that usually helps, but maybe it’s just my intrinsic wit that gives me an edge,” she raises her brows slightly, before beginning to walk off now that their exchange is done. She’s surprised she doesn’t want to rip her hair out after that encounter, but she figures she should simply count her blessings. “Au revoir, trouser-boy!”

He rolls his eyes as he turns on his heel and exits the shop, amused rather than annoyed with the bookkeeper.

enjoy! lmk what you thought :) part 2

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #once the slow burn ends #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #enemies to lovers!harry #enemies to lovers #slow burn #the france italy one is a fever dream au #little border town #not proofread at all

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solardragun · 3 years

Note

Oz salt? Please spare Oz salt. 🥺

rubs hands. let's do this again because tumblr crashed.

first things first: I want everyone who has ever called him a liar to pay me $20 and then turn in a 40 page essay on how he's a liar, MLA format, sources cited.

now, onto that. everyone harps on ozpin for lying. keyword: lying. they call him a liar, they say they can't trust him, etc. let's talk about this. keeping secrets is not lying. lying is intentionally FALSE statements / information.

so, with that, let's count the number of times ozpin has GENUINELY LIED. that'll be a total of one (1) time. what lie was this? the relic having questions.

this ENTIRE time, everyone has been dragging this poor man by the ankles and punching at him while he's down when he's lied... once.

he's kept secrets, he's kept information to himself. that, by definition, is not lying. keeping secrets is not giving false statements. to keep calling him a liar is inaccurate.

now, let's move onto the way the narrative paints him.

"he forced pyrrha to be the maiden. he didn't give her a choice. he told her to pick or everyone would die. he guilt tripped her." — to that I say, no he didn't. he explained the gravity of the situation. if he didn't tell her the heavy parts, everyone would've ripped him to shreds because he "didn't warn her". he explained what he felt she needed to know: they needed someone to take the other half of amber's power. it's a big decision to make and it will change your life. there are people out there who want their hands on this power and we don't want the wrong person to have it, like cinder. you can take your time to choose. if you don't, we will consider another option.

he gave her the information she needed and he gave her time to think about it. when she accepted, he continuously asks her for consent and if she truly wants this. she said yes multiple times.

on that note, he is not responsible for her death. he told her to LEAVE when cinder attacked. he told her to go get qrow, james and glynda, and then get to safety with the rest of the students. SHE chose to come back and fight cinder all on her own. jaune even begged her not to do it before she shoved him in a locker and launched him away. ozpin is not responsible for her death.

"he's evil because he tried to leave salem and take their kids" — okay so clearly male abuse victims don't exist to you or the narrative. ozma was MANIPULATED by salem. jinn says as much: "the hearts of men are easily swayed." this is said over salem goading ozma into being a false god with her. he continuously questioned their choices, he was consumed with guilt, his host even asked him wtf was going on.

when their daughter came into her power, ozma decided to lay the truth out, and with it came the horror of salem wanting to USE their daughters to start a new generation of magic-users. she SAID it, right to his face. he BACKS AWAY IN DISGUST AND HORROR. his logical thought then was to LEAVE. wouldn't you if your spouse decided they wanted to use your children??

it astounds me because if the roles were reversed, ozma would be the villain and salem would be justified in leaving. interesting, isn't it?

next, we have the girls ripping his past away from him and then blasting him for hiding information. this... look, I don't care how "urgent" it was, there is NO excuse for doing this. if this had happened to blake when she was keeping secrets about being in the white fang or being with adam, the characters and audience would be livid, especially when the white fang were written as dangerous terrorists and adam was written as an abuser. they're dangerous, they posed threats. if this had happened to blake, if someone forced her trauma out into the open, they would be in the wrong. but because it's ozpin, it's fine.

moving on. "lying about lionheart." — this is just ridiculous. telling the world "hey, the headmaster of haven, who was a faunus by the way, was actually the one behind huntsmen dying and the attack on the school as well as contributing to the fall of beacon." it sends a BAD message and sets the human-faunus relationship back even further. ozpin chose not to tell the people about lionheart betraying them because not only would it cause issues, he also says that he would rather people believe in all the good leo had previously done. your mistakes don't define you, that kind of logic.

"oz lied about the lamp attracting grimm" — no he didn't. he didn't SAY that it did. that's not a lie. he kept it a secret so the students wouldn't worry and actually attract grimm. which, by the way, interesting how that "attraction" seemed to have disappeared by the time v7 and 8 dropped. never once saw grimm following them around because of the lamp. the only grimm that actively attacked were the ones coming through the hole in the wall. weird, huh? almost like the story NEEDED something for the characters to be mad at oz about.

anyway, I'm gonna move on. the fact that ozpin received ZERO apologies and / or sympathy, especially from those we'd expect it from (ruby, weiss, blake) is infuriating. EMERALD was forgiven in a heartbeat, and she actively helped cause the fall of beacon, she helped kill penny, she killed a faunus in vale to prove a point to cinder (who got mad at her for, btw), she helped frame yang into "attacking" mercury so she'd look violent, she worked for salem by proxy of cinder. emerald did way much worse than ozpin, and she was forgiven !! in that same episode, ozpin is given dirty looks and "hm, idk if we can still trust you." hell, HE apologized. he had NOTHING to apologize for. these kids were in the wrong, especially when they lied throughout all of volume seven and then were justified for it. "you're not like oz, you're trusting people to prove themselves first." uh. you mean like ozpin was doing???? these students actively lied to ironwood for most of v7 until it finally caught up to them, and then they were STILL in the right. yet they got on ozpin and still reprimand him.

idunno man, I'm so tired. this isn't even the half of it but I'm angry all over again.

in any case, ozpin isn't perfect, he has made some really stupid mistakes (CCT towers that cause global disconnection when one tower falls, etc.), but like, he's not the devil either.

#invincibleweasel #asks.#aphs.#rwde #rwby #anti rwby #rwby critical #pro ozpin #ozpin #ozma

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that-bi-bitch-writes · 3 years

Text

A Cursed Reality- JJK x Male Reader (Ch. 3)

This has a couple time skips. They aren't huge and I didn't know how to format it so I just put little dashes to imply there are time skips.

A lot of this material is taken straight from the manga and adapted a little to fit [Name] and there's a hint to his greater power/purpose in the story as well as his background. Enjoy!!!

Previous // Next

Chapter Three: In hindsight [Name] probably should’ve minded his own business. Actually, NO. He was going to blame everything on Gojo. If Gojo hadn’t sent him on that mission to play dutiful senpai [Name] never would’ve gotten involved with Sukuna’s vessel beyond being his upperclassman. But noooo. Now [Name] actually feels something for Itadori, including an obligation to check on the kid. Yuji would most likely be fine, he was being protected by Gojo, and like [Name]’s favorite Sensei, Yaga seems to at least consider Gojo’s opinion when making decisions. His power is well respected regardless of whether or not the blue-eyed Sorcerer is liked. The problem, in [Name]’s own words, was ‘that damn principal’ who liked to torture some of the more problematic recruits. Yaga of course called it a form of vetting. He didn’t want to enroll any students that would die way too easily or cause more problems than they were worth. With people like Yuji and [Name] the whole vetting process became troublesome. Straightforward but complex. They didn’t hide anything really and didn’t have any secret motives, but there were a lot of unknowns in their lives. Especially about where they came from and how they would act in the heat of the moments. ---------------- “Whoa! It’s in the mountains? Is this really Tokyo?” “This isn;t actually out of the ordinary for a tokyo suburb” “What about Fushiguro?” “He’s fast asleep after receiving jujutsu treatment” -------------------------------- “Fushiguro-kun!” “Hmm” “Fushiguro!” “[Name]-senpai” “Where is Gojo-sensei? Is he back with Yuji yet?” “I’ve been asleep, but Gojo-sensei said he’d leave at 6am” “That was three hours ago” “Yeah” “Good! So they haven’t made it to the principal yet. Sweet dreams Fushiguro-kun” “I’ll come with you” “You’ll need your rest” “But-” “Sleep” and with that [Name] darted out the door hearing Megumi’s body hit the mattress once again. [Name] had to warn Yuji about the principal. Knowing Gojo he’d probably stress the kid out and throw him to the gorilla. Yaga of course being the gorilla. ------------------------------------------- “First thing’s first, Yuji--” Gojo started “You’ve got an interview with the principal.” “The principal?” “If you mess up, you might get rejected for admission, so stay frosty, okay?” “WHAT!? DOES THAT MEAN I CAN GET EXECUTED RIGHT AWAY? Yuji shrieked “What a disappointment... I thought you were the leader… A hierarchy not based purely on strength is boring if you ask me” Sukuna raged on before being slapped into silence. “Sorry Sensei, He comes out sometimes….” “What an interesting body you have now.” Gojo noticed “I owe you a debt, after all” “Not again” Yuji shouted Sukuna ignored Yuji and continued “When I make this Kid’s body mine… You’ll be the first one I kill!” “Silence” “Me a target of the great sukuna? What an honor!” Gojo continued as if nothing had happened Sukuna hadn’t disappeared yet but couldn’t open his mouth. [Name]’s cursed command had a little more strength in it than normal. Gojo may have been immature, unfairly attractive (something that pissed [Name] off for reasons “unrelated” to jealousy) and extremely annoying, but he was the closest thing [Name] had to family. He was there to drag [Name] from out of the wreckage after the accident and he was the first person to welcome [Name] to Jujutsu Tech. So yeah, Sukuna’s threat pissed [Name] off a bit. Yuji finally shook Sukuna off and continued to talk to Gojo. About what [Name] has no clue, the two of them were easily excitable and all over the place. In the meantime he was trying to think of advice to give to Yuji before he was thrown into Gorilla territory. Yaga wouldn’t let [Name] stay for the interview and [Name]’s not exactly sure he’d want to anyway. “Hey Puppy!” “Puppy?” ‘Oh shit’ [Name] thought ‘I totally meant to say Yuji. Okay [Name] just breeze past it’

“You’re going into some dangerous territories/ That old man will be looking for a reason to throw you out. Don’t screw up. Just be yourself... but like the you on ADHD meds” Gojo couldn’t help but snicker and [Name] shot him a look as if to communicate ‘the same can be said about you Satoru’ before walking away. “Thanks [Name]-san!” Yuji called after the retreating boy. He then became incredibly serious “Sensei. You said you’d win. But between [Name] and Sukuna… would he lose?” “I don’t know if he’d win” Gojo said before a pregnant pause “But he wouldn’t die. I know that for sure.” Within Yuji, Sukuna hummed in curiosity. That boy had no trouble overpowering Sukuna. And with one word at that. Of course, right now he had only the strength of one finger, but for the boy not to break a sweat. He couldn’t help but think things were getting interesting. ----------------------- “This is your room, you can do whatever you want with it.” “Whoa it’s huge” “The second- and third-years are out right now. You’ll meet them soon enough. Though there’s not many of them anyway” Yuji whistled, putting up a poster of a woman in a bikini before pausing. “What about [Name]? He asked “Is he out too?" “I actually don’t know. It depends. You see [Name] has a very special relationship with the other second years and sometimes that means trouble for missions, so it’s a 50/50 chance on whether or not he’s still here” Yuji hmmed and Gojo stared at him in silence. “Yuji you don’t need to fight, you know. Fushiguro and I can go and retrieve Sukuna’s fingers. Why don’t you just wait here?” Yuji faced the wall and seemed to be immersed in thought. In all honesty both he and Gojo knew what the answer would be. Only one day was needed to figure out the type of person Yuji was. “No! I said I’d do it didn’t I? But it would be hilarious to see a beaten-up Fushiguro bring the fingers to me while I relax” Both he and gojo thought about it a little. Gojo agreed it would be funny. “Okay! To be honest there’s no way you’re not fighting” “Hey! Was that a test?!” “If they were that easy to find we would’ve found them already! There are some with a large overwhelming presence. Others that keep quiet. And some that have already been consumed by a cursed spirit. “With regard to searching for these things… It’s gonna be a pain. But now we have you. In order to regain its power… The sukuna you consumed will direct you to the whereabouts of the fingers. You’re a vessel as well as a radar. We’re gonna need you in the field” “I don’t think the guy inside me’s that considerate...” “I think we’ll be able to come to a win-win agreement” Gojo concluded “Huh you’re next door? There’re a bunch of empty rooms aren’t there?” “Hey! Fushiguro! You finally look better! And [Name]’s with you” “What kind of an upperclassman would I be if I didn’t check on the first years. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re all happy and healthy” [Name] said trying to keep up some charade of being a good student. “You woke me up very aggressively” Fushiguro countered “That’s neither here nor there” “I thought it’d be more fun and lively this way. And obviously I was right” Gojo answered Fushiguro’s question pointing to an oblivious Yuji who was looking at [Name] with pure adoration in his eyes. [Name] looked at the pink haired boy with well hidden fondness. If you didn’t already know [Name], you’d think the blank look on his face meant he hated the kid Fushiguro stared at them for a moment before realizing he’d rather argue than let Gojo be right. “Classes and missions are more than enough!” “Anyway… It’s fine!!! More importantly we’re goin’ out tomorrow!!” Both Yuji and Megumi stared at Gojo. Yuji in surprise, Fushiguro in annoyance “We’re going to get the third first-year student. “Count me out” [Name] spoke up reminding everyone that he too was still there “I’ve got somewhere to be” “Ooh [Name] has a daate” “Can it old man. I’m just going somewhere with Toge” “How is that any different from what I just said”

[Name] ignored the teacher and stalked off toward the second year dorms. “See you later puppy, emo kid”

“Wait for me!” Gojo called out chasing after the second year “I’ve got something to talk to you about”

----------

“So who’s Toge?”

“Inumaki-senpai’s a second year and the one of the only people [Name] likes in this school. I can count them all on one hand.”

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

“So,” [Name] paused “What did you want to talk about?”

“Yuji’s at risk. I can tell you kinda care about him and Megumi so I’m going to use that. When I’m gone you have to protect them. Any means necessary. That includes cursed storytelling”

[Name]’s eyes widened at the mention of his technique. The power itself wasn’t as strong as a domain, but in [Name]’s hands it was deadly. Only he and Gojo knew about it, and if Gojo wanted him to use it, he had no choice.”

“Okay”

#male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #reader insert #a cursed reality #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jjk x m!reader #male!reader #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki x you #that bi bitch writes

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Note

hellooo this is not a request but what do u think of the new upcoming character (he'll probably get release like... at least after 2 years ig TAT) Dainsleif?

Major spoilers for Kaeya’s Character Story and Khaenri'ah Lore.

TLDR: I like the potential Dainsleif has plus his design is really nice. He might be a catalyst or sword user with empowered auto's or he might be similar to Zhongli that uses field effects and has a delete button for his elemental burst.

I have many theories on who Dainsleif is and that he is either some type of traveler/god/homunculus and he has the element of ash or quintessence. The opposite of dendro and nature. I'd like to believe that the lore of Khaenri'ah relates to his story and his attitude (since he's from there originally) and it's a desolate place with no archon blessings so the people themselves had to develop their own methods to survive, hence the art of alchemy Khemia. When Dainsleif get's introduced, mostly likely towards the very end, we might find out why Scaramouche said the sky and the stars was a gigantic hoax and the truth behind Kaeya.

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ANON. YOU. YOU GET A COOKIE. I LOVE TALKING ABOUT STORY AND CHARACTER LORE SO MUCH.

Please, if any of you wanna talk about this I’m totally on board. I love Dainsleif and I’m so upset he’ll probably be released towards end game so yeah two years at least;;

Okay, so level with me. I’m about to bring out the whiteboard for this. I tried to format it so it was easier to digest but this is pure word vomit and I went overboard again.

What do u think of the new upcoming character Dainsleif?

I’m very excited. I think his design is beautiful and I want those lore bomb drops.

Firstly, I can’t wait for him to drop. I’m always a sucker for lore and he’s been dropping hints from the start since he narrates all the character’s collected miscellany. He does remind of me Dimitri from FE3H but I’m excited for more Khaenri’ah lore.

I have some theories about where the story will go with him and Khaenri’ah but those are some major spoilers so I left a read more tag if you’re interested.

Tumblr won’t let me upload his splash art but just google it lol.

Which weapon will he use?

Catalyst or Sword. He might have empowered autos like Diluc and Razor or he might apply a mark like Childe.

I can see him being a castor since his right arm is glowing. But he might also be a sword user that uses empowered auto’s like Diluc and Razor. Since the name Dainsleif was King Högni's sword during the battle of Hjaðningavíg. According to the reliable source of wiki, whatever wound the Dainsleif sword cause could not be healed.

I think it would be cool if his auto’s apply a stack/mark (similar to Childe’s riptide mark), and after 3 auto’s the mark is consumed and the enemy gets dealt heavy damage. Or maybe you can apply debuffs like “defense down” or maybe even a blind, based on the number to stacks you have on the mark.

What vision will he have?

A hydro vision or a custom one (similar to a delusion). Or he doesn’t have a vision at all and uses alchemy or is secretly a “god”.

As for vision, he might be a hydro character since his splash art appears like he’s coming out of a ball of water. I’ve heard people say he might be cyro also, which wouldn’t be extremely off if visions actually correspond with their user.

Or he might be introduced with an entirely new element (perhaps a new type of alchemy?). His star is a dark blue too so he might have the element of black mist/dust or ash/shadows as a potential power.

In the Albedo trailer he mentions:

"But I know it well. It hails from Khaenri'ah: The Art of Khemia. Soil and chalk, the universe and earth, pure dust and the birth of life.”

Perhaps this is the vision/power that Dainsleif has? Maybe even the creator or maybe he even taught Albedo’s Master how to do Khemia. I don’t think he really encompasses the Geo vision (I will seriously write an 11 page essay on how vision’s correspond with their holder). We don’t know a lot about Dendro but I think he might be related to it. But just like Khaenri’ah, he’s reflects the opposite. Instead of “birth of life” and tree’s, he’s the “death of life” and ash. (wow doesn’t that sound deep lolol sorry I don’t really know how to explain it). The way he talks in trailers, he says “mortals” a lot but does vouch for them so it makes me wonder if he might actually be a god.

Also his title is the “Bough Keeper”. A bough means: a main branch of a tree. This makes me believe that he can either do something similar to what Albedo showed us and can create life or he does the opposite and creates ash. Honestly, a part of me believes he might just have generic moveset’s like everyone else but let me dream lol.

Or he might not even be a vision holder since we don’t see him holding one, but we only have this angle and art to go off on. He might even use stars haha. If anyone remembers, during the falling star event, Scaramouche says the sky and stars were a gigantic hoax. I would not be surprised if the world is actually upside down or the “sky” isn’t even a sky at all. More like a sheet over Teyvat or some kind of illusion.

Or another theory, perhaps Dainsleif is the god of time since he says in Travail during the Traveler chapter:

“Defeat me, command me to step aside, show me that you are worthier than I to rescue her. Then, the threads of all fate will be yours to re-weave“

It would explain how he knows so much about the other characters and what happened in the past since he brings up “the war” a lot. I’m assuming it’s either the Archon War or something before that.

Or mihoyo could shred my thesis paper and Dainsleif has nothing to do with this and he’s some random guy from Khaenri’ah with plot convivence.

---

I just want to mention at the bottom of this, but the classical elements are water, earth, fire, air and (later) aether. I find it funny that the male MC shares the name.

“Aether, also called quintessence, is the fifth and highest classical element. It’s a material that fills the region of the universe above the terrestrial sphere.”

“It permeates all nature and is the substance composing the celestial bodies. The essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated form,”

Or this is just a hint to the traveler’s power since the traveler is the only one that can use all the elements.

Possible moveset?

He might use stars or air/anemo in his moveset. He could be a very good dps with a lot of trapping potential. Or he might be a field effect support like Albedo, but can still do a lot of damage.

Imagine Dainsleif uses stars haha, throwing them to do damage like Ningguang’s rocks. The splash art of him shows two stars in the top left. He might have a teleport (similar to Keqing + Mona dash), or maybe he could even have some sort of telekinesis with his right arm. I’m just getting Xayah from league of legends vibes where he can throw the star, it places itself at max range, then he can recall them and the star does damage on the way back. Similar to how Keqing’s elemental skill works but instead of teleporting to the stiletto, the stiletto comes back to you when you press e again. (Sorry I play on keyboard).

The opposite of nature is void or cosmos so that could be relating to his power as well since the only animation we get of him is in Teyvat Chapter Storyline Preview: Travail (I’m just gonna say Travail) and this black mist comes from his hand and he says:

“"We will defy this world with a power from beyond.”

Could be interesting hehe. He might even be a field effect character like Albedo. He doesn’t really strike me as the guy that likes fighting but in the Albedo trailer he says:

“I am content to watch most crises play out from the sidelines. But if Albedo were ever to make a single wrong move...I could not let myself ignore it.”.

Seems to be that Dainsleif is pretty powerful or at least has some type of influence. It could be interesting if he’s similar to Zhongli and has a giant delete button for his elemental burst haha. Or he has some type of imprisonment power like Mona’s burst. Or as I mentioned earlier, it would be fun having telekinesis but this is just me taking liberties haha.

(and yes I totally understand that I’m forcing the story to support my theory BUT IGNORE IT OK.)

Black Mist/Dust and Ash/Shadows?

Uh I gave up on these summaries lol

I touched on it briefly but I say black mist or shadows since I believe that Khaenri’ah is probably not a good place to live originally. Similar to how Mondstadt was in the past, it is probably surrounded by some type of barrier (hence the mist or even the sky) that both traps and makes sure no one get’s in or out. Khaenri’ah is quite the opposite of most regions besides the whole “no archon” business but in “Travai”, when Dainsleif brings up Khaenri’ah this shows up:

It seems like a star to me in some hidden pocket in the sky and what not. This is what I would assume Scaramouche saw (possibly, we have no idea) and therefore there are people and an entire region that’s in the sky. But why would Khaenri’ah be above Celestia? Since you can see Celestia in Teyvat. I would like to think that Teyvat is either upside down and Khaenri’ah is actually below everything or this pocket in the sky isn’t even in Teyvat and is similar to how you reach spiral abyss. You have to go through this circle in Cape Oath and you get sucked into this worm hole thing and you make it to Musk Reef. Where we saw Scarachmouche and he tells us the sky is a hoax.

This idea kinda supports my idea that Teyvat is either upside down or the sky isn’t real since how could Dainsleif know who all these people are (since he narrates all the 5 star character’s trailers). Either the man is just really smart and travel’s around a lot but he’s aware of who Zhongli is, an archon from 6000 years ago. This makes me believe he is either a god himself or if he is also a homunculus. Or he’s in the third category and perhaps he’s also a traveler like the main character’s.

I don’t believe he’s an archon but it would be interesting if he was a potential candidate for becoming the Khaenri’ah archon. Since I believe vision holders (human) can become archons and rise to Celestia but Dainsleif refused or he was capable of becoming an Archon

“A human with a Vision is an allogene — one with the potential to reach godhood; however, it isn't clear if having a Vision is a requirement, or simply makes a person more likely to meet the qualifications to reach Celestia.”

But going back to the state of Khaenri’ah, I’d like to think that since the art of Khemia is from Khaenri’ah that would mean that they had to learn how to make their own food and life since they didn’t have an archon to bless their lands. Barbatos had swept the snow and land away in the region of Mondstadt but Khaenri’ah doesn’t have that luxury. Naturally, I would imagine that there are some downsides of Khemia when it was first being practiced, hence the ash. But ash isn’t a bad thing, in fact you can use ash to amend soil and boost your lawn.

But obviously having a vision would be a whole lot more useful since it’s literally god given talent/blessing so if you have a vision, you might be able to break out and go to the “above” world of Teyvat. If you have a vision you’re seen as being blessed by the gods and you might be able to ascend to Celestia itself. I believe that Khaenri’ah is secretly the abyss and doesn’t see the sun so it’s always dark and it’s hard to grow anything so the people of Khaenri’ah had to find ways to make their own food, hence alchemy. This could be why Dainsleif is so adamant about humanity and questioning the Archons and visions.

If we are going on the theory that Dainsleif is actually a normal human, then I’d like to imagine he was one of the people that prayed for a vision or some type of blessing and finally got it. But an incident happened and he lost his faith or resolve in the Archons. He mentions it a tiny bit in the Diluc trailer but this is just me spit balling.

Also, Kaeya’s talents also mention about an abyss and void before the change. I don’t think abyss was made to relate to the abyss order and more the actual definition of abyss but it’s still interesting.

What is Khemia?

Well I don’t know and I don’t know how accurate google is but let’s try and go through it together. I have no idea if what I’m about to type is offensive since I do not have a history degree and I’m pretty much paraphrasing what google tells me.

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So Khemia, is an Egyptian sacred science. When Egypt was occupied by the Arabs they added “al-” to the world “Khemia” and “al-Khemia”. Al-Khemia means “The Black Land” and is now seen as a possibly origin of the world alchemy.

Not gonna lie, I did not know al-khemia meant the black land so idk if my hindsight is 2020 or it was just super obvious for my monkey brain.

As for the world “Chemeia”, it was used to designate the art of metal-working, specifically changing base metals into gold and silver. The Arabs later prefixed it with “al” and the world “alchemy”. Alchemy came to signify the art of chemistry in general. However the word "Chemeia” was probably derived from the Greek word “chemi” which means “black”. This could be because:

In the sense of "dark" or "hidden", since the Dark, Hidden or Divine Art was the only name by which this science was known to the ancients.

However, the word chemistry might have had a Chinese origin. It may have been derived from the Hakka term KIM-MI or the Cantonese term KEM-MAI, which signifies "gone astray in search of gold" or "secret of gold".

Assuming it’s from Egyptian origin, the ancient Egyptian word khēmia means the transmutation of earth, thereby the science of matter at the atomic to molecular scale. According to some etymologists, khēmia or “preparation of black powder” ultimately derived the name from Khem or Kēme, Egypt, the land of black earth.

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So if we are going with the Chinese origin, I’d like to think that this is a hint towards the story and people trying to find the “gold” or perhaps a vision. This could explain why Kaeya was sent to Mondstadt to hopefully require a vision and come back.

What is the lore behind Khaenri’ah then?

So, why do I think the people of Khaenri’ah are looking to be saved or want a vision so badly? Well, time to go through the entire Khaenri’ah lore with you lads.

The Khaenri’ah lore goes as this:

At least 200 years ago, the Eclipse Dynasty threw the kingdom into chaos (meaning it was the last Dynasty).

The people were cursed and transformed into monsters.

Mondstadt’s Knights and Grand Master Arundolyn went on an expedition to Khaenri’ah to fight off the monsters.

In the present, Khaenri’ah is still struggling against the effects of the curse. Kaeya was sent to Mondstadt as their last hope and for the sake of the “ancient plot”.

1. For those not aware, China’s time periods were separated into Dynasty’s (sort of). The Chinese characters of “Eclipse Dynasty” are [古国黑日落] or "The Ancient Civilization of the Black Sunset". There is probably some type of history or connection to this since Zhongli’s voicelines are full of them but this post is long enough and I don’t know if people want to or care about hearing Chinese history but um let me know? Cause I’m really into that and I will gladly write about it.

2. We’re not completely aware if the people transformed into Hilichurls or were apart of the Abyss Order. But since the last dynasty was literally called Eclipse I would like to believe this supports my idea that Khaenri’ah isn’t someplace you can easily reach and you have to entire a fucking worm hole to get to. I’m in love with the idea that Khaenri’ah is the spiral abyss or at least part of it, that Childe fell into when he was a younger. Perhaps even the spiral abyss is where he landed since time technically doesn’t pass in spiral and it’s just a wave of enemies. I would 100% not be shocked if we have to enter the that wormhole to get to Khaenri’ah or something similar.

3. Arundolyn was a previous Grand Master and while he did not possess a Vision, he was naturally gifted through intense training. He was formerly one of the Four Winds and had the title of “Lion of Light”. So Khaenri’ah is possible to get to and someone from Mondstadt has done it, but without a vision. The Traveler also doesn’t carry a vision so it might be interesting to see. Kaeya didn’t get his vision until he was 18? 17? When he had a falling out with Diluc.

I would like to think that perhaps the Archon’s betrayed Khaenri’ah or someone fucked up in their pursuit to develop Khemia to it’s fullest potential or wanted to make their own vision, hence the delusion and how it transforms Childe into a foul legacy form. The Dragonspine lore could point to how Celestia has the power to seal away Khaenri’ah. This also might have been where Dainsleif lost his resolve (assuming he’s a human and just happened to get some sort of power or is really good at Khemia he saw the past or fate or whatever lol)

“Murals, Record of Serial No., and other lore bits in Dragonspine indicate that those who dwelled there attempted to fight against Celestia but lost. As punishment, the Skyfrost Nail was dropped, and the area was turned into a frozen wasteland.

Therefore, people with visions cannot enter Khaenri’ah because of the Archon’s and people that receive visions (which I still think is highly unlikely if you’re in Khaenri’ah) might be able to break out. Think of spiral abyss as some sort of “purgatory” except to enter Khaenri’ah you go down. To get out, you start AT FLOOR 12 and make your way up. Similar to Kid Icarus and how the hardest level was at the beginning and as you went up, it slowly became easier.

4. I like the idea that Khaenri’ah is a land that either doesn’t have vision holders or the people that do have visions aren’t seen the same way as other regions. People are are actually cursed by the Gods or people that require visions leave Khaenri’ah because they now have the power to. In Travail Dainsleif says this:

"Some say a few are chosen and the rest are dregs, but I say we humans have our humanity. We will defy this world from a power from beyond”

Naturally these are his ideals and I’d like to believe that Khaenri’ah is actually split on this. Some believe in Dainsleif ideals while the other half doesn’t. If we’re going on the theory that Khaenri’ah is actually the abyss then the abyss order makes a bit more sense.

Plus the idea that Lumine/Aether (I think the story is just going to stick with Lumine being the “villain ”) working for the abyss, it could be because their twin was separated by an unknown god. Aether was asleep and plagued by nightmares with his sister saying “it was too late”, perhaps he lost his memory since he doesn’t know what he was late for? Maybe this is what she meant since I’d assume the story has you going from place to place and the Archon’s stepping down like in Liyue and the Tsaritsa collecting all the gnosis.

Why is the Tsaritsa collecting all the gnosis?

“She is a god with no love left for her people, nor do they have any left for her. Her followers only hope to be on her side when the day of her rebellion against the divine comes at last."

I can imagine that Tsarista or the Cyro archon is collecting all the gnosis because she believes in the Khaenri’ah attitude and is apart of the ancient plot or is trying to protect them somehow since she isn’t an evil person based on Childe’s voicelines:

“Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa is actually a gentle soul. Too gentle, in fact, and that's why she had to harden herself. Likewise, she declared war against the whole world only because she dreams of peace. And because she made an enemy of the world, I had the chance to become acquainted with you.”

Or maybe even more interesting, she was actually a citizen of Khaenri’ah since the Tsaritsa wasn’t apart of the original seven but this is a huge stretch. Maybe she’s collecting all the gnosis to finally break the seal on Khaenri’ah? Plus the people of Sneznaya strike me as “I don’t care if you’re blessed by the gods or have a vision, if you can fight then you’re good in our books”. Plus the people of Khaenri’ah are probably pretty mad at the Archons so when the rebellion does come I’d assume the Tsaritsa wants them on her side.

What happened to Kaeya?

Now Kaeya’s character story goes into how he met Diluc and Crepus. It’s hinted that it was on purpose since Kaeya’s father left him there specifically.

"One afternoon near the end of summer a decade ago, my father and I passed by the Dawn Winery."

This matter-of-fact description hides a carefully constructed lie. Kaeya has never once spoken the truth about what happened that afternoon:

"This is your chance. You are our last hope."

Kaeya would never forget the look of both hope and hatred in his father's eyes as he uttered those words.

Now you can interpret this as many things, either collecting all the gnosis and obtaining a vision to hopefully come back to save Khaenri’ah could be what he meant or he want’s Kaeya to stop the Abyss Order from literally setting Teyvat on fire. You can probably sympathize with the Abyss Order if we are following the theory that they are actually the mutated monsters of Khaenri’ah citizen’s during the Eclipse dynasty but it’s also like, how about we not set the world on fire ya know?

But interestingly, the reason why Kaeya’s father left him with Diluc’s family is because they have a long history of participating in the rebellion against Decarabian 2,600 years ago and Vennessa’s rebellion against the Aristocracy.

What will happen when Dainsleif get’s introduced?

So, I’m fully on board with the “Kaeya being the secret prince of Khaenri’ah” theory. I like the idea that Dainsleif is Kaeya’s servant or trusted advisor but I think that’s mainly rooted in the ship. Dainsleif strikes me more as someone who observes and only steps in if he has to because it might affect fate or whatever.

“I am content to watch most crises play out from the sidelines. But if Albedo were ever to make a single wrong move...I could not let myself ignore it.”

I don’t think Dainsleif is the King of Khaenri’ah that Jean mentions in her hobbies voiceline but perhaps he was related to them somehow. Maybe the first King or the King that Jean mentions was real and Dainsleif was his friend or the God that helped him become King, then the Eclipse Dynasty happened and everything went downhill. Since I believe in Kaeya being a secret prince from Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif would still be somewhat loyal to the Kingdom or perhaps he had lost faith after what happened and how so many people got corrupted and turned into monsters.

I was talking about this with my friend but what if genshin pulls an fgo and “kills” Kaeya? Similar to FGO where Leonardo “died” in a car accident and when we visited a shop, there was just a hologram. What if genshin’s story kills Kaeya in a cutscene, and we can no longer use him since Kaeya was a free character, only to return as - THE 5 STAR WE WERE ALL WAITING FOR - the prince of Khaenri’ah.

When will we see Dainsleif?

According to the “Travail” the order of appearances is this:

I believe part 1 is finished with Zhongli and dragonspine was just an add on for Albedo. But this makes me believe that Dainsleif and Khaenri’ah will be after we go to Snezhnaya. Also side note, the music for Natlan slaps hard.

---

But yeah, I kinda went a bit off track and started talking about the story haha. I really love lore so if anyone has any questions about other characters or want’s to discuss the genshin story I am all ears^^. Also, if any of this becomes true in two years time I WILL BE BACK TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO.

Or genshin prepares to rip this post apart and none of it is true. If you actually read my word vomit I appreciate you and you get a free cookie. If you’re wondering where I’ve been, it was writing this haha.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin lore #genshin impact lore #genshin theory #genshin impact theory #genshin dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #genshin khaenri'ah #genshin spoilers #genshin impact spoilers

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dreamteamfanblog · 3 years

Text

Y'know, what I really like about c!Bad and c!Skeppy is that there's kinda never been any question about the fact that they're pretty bad people.

Like, the first plot relevant thing Skeppy ever did was hold the corpse of a mans beloved pet hostage in return for items with Sentimental Importance that he literally never had any stake in and only wanted for the sentimental value they held to other people (damn lowkey might have been the one who inspired dream's revelation regarding the value of sentimentality and that whole plan, good job skeppy, you're the reason the worst tyrant on the server is like that /hj) and while I obviously don't like Dream and literally never feel bad for him when bad things happen to him at this point, that was honestly still kinda ruthless, Skeppy.

The first time Bad ever bothered being plot relevant as well was because he heard about the Manburg-Pogtopia conflict brewing and basically went "Lmao they're ALL losers tho? Liiikkkeeee? Imma go help the Screeching British Toddlers? Or the one and only Alcoholism-Is-Fun dictator? C'mon. C'mon." (paraphrasing for comedic effect but that was kinda the gist and vibe anyway) up until the realization hit him that it'd be so fun to fuck with everyone and ran to go suggest they do just that to Skeppy who was literally just like "bet" instantly and that's how the plan to feed the flames of conflict was born, aka the formation (and naming, even) of The Badlands. Cause it'd be really fun to watch the world burn lmao, and "the most fun we can have here is the chaotic kinda fun~" (bads exact words), like, this is the first time Bad does anything plot relevant and the second time ever that Skeppy's important and they're already out here planning atrocities like it's a game to them.

They spend like the next few months hopping around from conflict to conflict and causing chaos and shit talking literally every other character behind their backs. Even their relationship with Sam and Ant is super dubious and they've been pretty deceptive and flippant with the others all things considered cause like who the fuck cares about....uh....anyone, basically? And like they had Tommy's disc for a WHILE after Tommy manipulated a man into giving it to him for like no reason by holding his pets corpse over his head, and they didn't really know what to do with it. Like. They were like "well we can't give it to Tommy cause that's be boring" and just kinda passed it back and forth in their ender chest and chatted about maybe burning it for the amusement they'd get out of seeing the pain it'd cause Tommy. At one point Dream tries very hard to get them to give it to him and they're like "Nah". They weren't using it for anything, they didn't like, have any plans with it, they just very firmly didn't want Dream to have it specifically because he wanted it and for no other reason, cause like, it's just so funny to see the sheer disappointment on people's faces as their sentimental items sit in your chest collecting dust and you still won't give it to them even tho you don't plan to use it for anything ever. Like. Why do they do this? Because they're John Mulaney kinnies and this is their equivalent of stealing family photos from house parties cause It's The One Thing They Can't Replace. I'm pretty sure they ended up tossing it at Ranboo in the end since the next time we see the Cat disc it's with him and like. One second it's in their enderchest and the next it's with him so i'm pretty sure they're responsible for the fact that he wound up with that actually (i know it's implied dream gave it to him but it was in skeppy and bad's possession and they were pretty apparent about not wanting to give it to tommy or dream at all so like...yeah no i think they knew it'd end up with ranboo when they parted with it, at least). And that raises the question. Why pass on the most important item on the server with sentimental value to many many people and a history of wars being fought over it......to a kid with memory problems and the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair who did not want the disc and was deeply disturbed about learning he had it? Well...probably the same reason they refused to give it to Tommy or Dream to begin with even though they didn't ever use it for anything. Same reason Skeppy went so out of his way to use dirty underhanded tactics to get it. Cause it's amusing.

Then Bad very eagerly agreed to commit atrocities for The Egg and Skeppy wasn't happy. I mean, he didn't have a problem with the atrocities, c'mon, this is Skeppy, but the fact that he was doing them for The Egg wasn't pog. Only Skeppy's allowed to be Bad's muse when he does horrible horrible things. So Skeppy pouted and threatened to leave Bad if Bad doesn't start doing war crimes for him instead of "some dumb egg" again and Bad's like "fiiiinnnneeeeeee" up until Skeppy gets himself infected at which point Bad freaks the fuck out and spirals into....pretty in character actually villainy but this time it's Significantly Less Fun then their earlier actions because this time his Skeppy's not with him. And like. This time Bad decided not to play around as he tortures his friends, tries to manipulate people, attempts to murder children, just full on decides he's cool with sacrificing everyone to the egg, y'know, the works, though in his defense, as I said before, this time he did do it so Skeppy would hang out with him again instead of for the lulz like before.

And like. They're actually fullstop some of my favourite characters in the whole server BECAUSE they're just very Blatantly not good people. They hardly even pretend to be or try to put on much of a show for other characters, honestly, they are just unapologetically Like That.

Of course, they're not completely lacking depth. Like, there's no way to make em' look good or justified or like they even THINK they're decent people. But that doesn't mean they don't have compelling and complicated motives/ideologies/personalities. I mean i'll be real their fixation with one another is absolutely fascinating. Like. A lot of the time they're so lacking in empathy and decency and morality overall but then they see each other and a flip is switched instantly. I mean don't get me wrong the unapologetically cold chaotic energy isn't lost when they're together (in fact it's often highlighted and fueled by the others presence) and they can be very bitchy and petty with each other. But there's never been a moment of doubt in my mind about how completely devoted to one another they are. Bad has stated in no uncertain terms that there's one side that matters to him and that side is Skeppy. Skeppy being consumed by the egg very much reads as a sacrifice as well and I guarantee he wasn't making that sacrifice for Puffy or Ant. Bad would later willingly follow The Egg all in a desperate attempt to get Skeppy back. They matter so much to each other, hell, maybe even more then is normal/healthy all things considered, as if all that empathy they're lacking towards everyone else somehow all went to the other. And I mean even beyond the depth of their relationship, their ideology itself is an interesting one. You don't really see many characters who very blatantly and openly are here to do bad things because it's fun for them. With most characters there's always some sob story. Some poor attempt at justification. Some insistence that they're totally doing the moral thing. Skeppy and Bad...don't do that? I mean, as I said before, they're incredibly unapologetic and unabashed and don't at all seem to think their behaviour is wrong most of the time. But they're lacking in that attempt at convincing the world they're really the heroes that most bad guys have. Their reasonings range from that they're having fun to that they're annoyed with the other characters to that they feel like the other wants/needs them to do whatever it is they're doing. But whatever it is they almost never seem like they feel the need to justify themselves to anyone unless it's a ploy to get the other person to do something for them. They know they're not Good Guys or saving the world or whatever else, they know they're selfishly motivated, and they....don't see the issue with that nor are they particularly interested if others do most of the time. They're self aware enough, they just don't give a shit. There are a few one off moments where this has slightly wavered but for the most part...not really? And that kind of ideology in of itself is really interesting.

Plus I mean stepping back from the Character Analysis intrigue, I just kinda lose my mind with excitement when they get particularly mean/devious because they're just really cool okay? Like i'm not actually rooting for them generally, but sometimes in the moment when they get particularly into the Watch The World Burn And Laugh attitude i'm like "oh, fuck, pop off i guess-". Something about the mixture of how competent they can be, how intensely they care about each other, how immoral/unempathetic they tend to be, and how little they care despite knowing about that last aspect, all end up being really cool to see and I just love these characters so much whether they're Committing Atrocities For Their Own/Each Others Amusement or Committing Different Atrocities Out Of Love For One Another; Angst Edition.

also the fact that their lives are linked is really interesting and like i kinda wanna know how/why that happened and if it's like something the characters chose to do or if they were born that way or if they were somehow connected some other way later in life or what cause like that's a really unique thing they did there and i feel like that doesn't just happen with people for no reason usually actually.

#dream smp

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haliyam · 3 years

Text

interim (v)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 4

Hi again! Forgive me for this chapter and the next few ones, guys. I offer you this art I commissioned and an itty bitty happy-for-a-millisecond Zeke/Reader oneshot in the meantime 😪 (Please notice this I am so happy with it)

As usual, Reader default name Lucy is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background and family name. But feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension!

Chapter 5

“Why are you helping me?”

You grit your teeth, peering over at Zeke as he lets go of your foot. He was helping you stretch, seeing as you’re too fatigued to do it yourself, not to mention you’re covered in a heated blanket and he’s put hot towels over and under your limbs.

He ignores you, like he’s been ignoring you since he entered your room with all of these items, asking instead whether you wanted help or not. Like he’s been ignoring you since you arrived as a guest at the Yeagers’.

You don’t really like Zeke, and you’re sure he doesn’t like you either. You’re six, after all, with all the confidence the world can offer a child in your position, and he’s twelve, with all the arrogance of a boy already training to become the Beast Titan when the war in the South is over.

That’s why his help is so strange. And without Mrs. Yeager forcing him into it, too? It’s suspect, and you’re not even sure you know that word yet.

“Why—”

“Shh,” Zeke hisses, looking very displeased about having to respond in any way while you glare at him. When your brows unfurrow and you continue to stare at him expectantly, he rolls his eyes. Still, he finally speaks again. “Why are you like this, anyway? Aren’t you Magath’s new star would-be candidate?”

You were, until the ideology tests began. You don’t know they’re called that, but you’ve been doing terribly at the written exams which ask why Eldians are the dirt between the toes of real humans. Your answers show a well-read knowledge of Marley-sanctioned history, but distinctly lack the Eldian shame that comes naturally to your classmates.

This is concerning to the program and to command in spite of your potential, so it’s up to your instructors to beat that shame into you by keeping you running for far longer than the others, leaving you out of meals, or shortening your breaks and then making you stay behind so you can do everyone else’s grunt work, especially after you dared to look Captain Magath in the eye the first time your class fell in to formation after the first round of exams. And every other time since, like an idiot.

“Not anymore,” you answer, struggling to keep his gaze. You don’t really want to talk about this with someone who now must only wait to inherit his Titan. It makes you feel small, and nobody in Marley should have that authority.

Zeke wrinkles his nose. “That’s not an answer. It just seemed like you were doing great… and now you’re a baby that has to be coddled?”

Your glare returns, shame be damned, but the pain that suddenly pulses through your body as surely as your indignation quickly drains it. Your pride and your strength are depleted for the day, and you need to save what remains for tomorrow, when you have to face the instructors again. And besides—Zeke has already seen how weak you are. What’s the point? Tybur pride will do nothing for you now.

You lower your gaze for once. “Are you going to tell the captain?”

Zeke stares at you. “No? Why does Magath hate you now, anyway?”

You know why. Because you’re still a Tybur, and you refuse to be nothing. Even if nobody knows it. Even if you feel like nothing right now.

Zeke sighs again—a concession of his own, though that is unknown to you. “Fine. Just... my grandparents will get worried if they hear you crying because you can’t sleep.”

“I wasn’t crying,” you lie. Your body hurts so much that you haven’t been able to stay asleep for very long. You just didn’t think he could hear you crying.

“Sure,” he scoffs. He’s lied, too. It’s difficult to hear much noise inside your rooms from the hall—but you did pass him on the way to the bathroom with those puffy eyes just a little while ago. “Just make sure they don’t see you as pathetic as you look now—they already have enough to worry about. If you have to be pathetic… only do it in front of me. Understand?”

You still want to glare at him, but somehow, his words are almost as much comfort to you as the towels he’s heated for you. You don’t know the last time you let your guard down since the Warrior program began for your class, and you’re so tired. His words, however cold, warm you in your newfound frailty.

“Okay,” you murmur in defeat, relaxing in earnest. Your eyes are slowly starting to close.

“Hey!” he snaps within a whisper, quickly reaching for your shoulder and shaking it. You’re too sleepy to notice his reluctant concern. “Don’t fall asleep wrapped up in all this. It’s just a few more minutes, and then you have to go to the bathroom and put this ointment on your muscles like I told you. Remember?”

You do your best to widen your eyes and shake your head awake. The effort ends with you groaning in pain, but you eventually manage a nod. “I’ll stay awake,” you promise. When he sighs again and pulls the seat out from next to your desk to sit at your bedside, you murmur something else.

He frowns at you. “What was that?”

“I’ll stay awake,” you repeat, “but will you tell me a story?”

Are you surprised that Willy is coming to visit? Yes and no. Over the years, Willy has perfected the art of making his presence in your life known while somehow remaining completely absent. The nature of the new Lord Tybur’s existence in your world became immutable the summer after that fateful one, after you came crying to him and to Lara when you could no longer bear the loneliness of ignoring your friends’ letters for an entire year. Willy’s response, as with everything regarding Mila, was to turn away and change the subject. It was Lara who couldn’t resist your tears and confessed it all to you—what father told Willy hours before he became Lord Tybur, and then all she learned when she devoured him.

The new Lord Tybur was furious. It was only the second time in your life you had ever heard your brother so angry—but he never stays that way with you or with Lara for very long, and wouldn’t you have discovered the truth after thirteen years anyway? In true Willy fashion, he only smiled days later and expected you never to mention it again. The fact that you have, many times hence, is part of why your relationship is so frayed. That and his tendency to appear, shower you with affection, and then shrink at the first sign of trouble. After all, how can anyone expect you to love a man who can’t bring himself to stand up for you?

Your resignation to this is mostly what keeps you from worrying too much the next morning, when Zeke leaves for HQ and you elect to join the Yeagers for market day. Part of it is guilt—apparently you and Zeke now consume much more than you did as candidates, and you want to make sure that you’re paying your share—and part of it is that you still feel ashamed for letting Zeke see you act the way you did last night. You still have to take care not to groan outwardly when you remember how you shrugged him off when he tried to be a friend, or how much you practically wailed into his chest. Never mind how you hid behind him from Mila when he let you, like the coward you are.

“You’re so pathetic, Lucy,” you mutter to yourself.

Standing not far from you by a vegetable vendor, Dr. Yeager glances over his shoulder. “Hmm? What’s that, Lucy?”

“Er—nothing, Dr. Yeager. I was just thinking to myself,” you smile sheepishly. Drawing closer to avoid getting jostled by the crowd, you search over his selection. “Oh! That’s… a lot of potatoes. You don’t need to avoid other items on my account. I’m happy to pay for my share.”

Dr. Yeager chuckles. “No, no. You know how much Zeke likes them. And don’t worry, Lucy, I can carry them.”

“No,” you say slowly, exchanging a look with the vendor when Dr. Yeager gives his smaller basket a faithful pat. You reach for it instead, tugging a little when he stubbornly refuses. “I’m taking these. You can carry some of the fish, but I’ll be taking most of the baskets. Hand them over and I’ll bring these to Mrs. Yeager.”

Dr. Yeager sighs. “Very well, Lucy. But only because I know how much you like carp from our friend down the road.”

You grin, and he lets you take his basket so you can fill your much larger one with (apparently) Zeke’s potatoes. As you part ways so he can go and buy you fish, you set out to find Mrs. Yeager. She should be waiting outside a little cafe not far from the market—Dr. Yeager likes doing most of the groceries nowadays, and Mrs. Yeager’s one very important task is to buy the household’s favorite seasonal dessert: grapes. Unfortunately, the best grapes in the zone market are sold by an old man who has a bit of a crush on her, and he doesn’t like seeing Dr. Yeager if he can help it. Or Zeke. Or you.

That should be her only task, which is why you’re surprised when you find her with a man and a basket full of cured meats when you arrive.

The truth is you almost miss her, if not for the sweet sound of her amused chuckle right as you decide to head inside to find her. Walking around the man blocking her from view, you approach. “Mrs. Yeager?”

“Lucy!” she waves.

Her raised brows tell you she wants you to meet someone; evidently, the man carrying most of her baskets along his arms, wearing an apron over a button-down and slacks with his sleeves rolled up. You turn toward each other at your name, and after a blink or two between the two of you, you realize that the man’s shock is more familiar than you first realized—probably because it’s your second time bumping into each other this weekend.

“Lucy?” he gawps at you.

You give him the same look. “Kellan? What are you…?”

He follows your gaze to Mrs. Yeager, and the way it dawns on his face is enough for you to trust that this is another funny coincidence. “Oh—” He gestures to her, “I was just helping, er…”

“Mrs. Yeager,” you help him.

“Right, Mrs... You’re Mrs. Yeager?” he asks, glancing at her. It’s clear he’s seen her unmistakable red armband, but it’s not polite to ask which child earned you Honorary Marleyan status.

Mrs. Yeager is accustomed to his curiosity, which he soon realizes along with his manners with an embarrassed flush that makes you smile. Luckily, she takes over for him with a pat on his arm. “Kellan here was helping me with the meats I bought from his family’s shop. He was just telling me that he’s studying to be a doctor, and I thought, what a coincidence—but it seems you two already know each other! Isn’t he handsome, Lucy?”

Such a pointed question. You and Kellan meet each other’s gazes with mutual embarrassment.

“You really don’t have to answer that,” Kellan laughs nervously, which helps you snap out of your stupor and look at him. You suppose he is handsome, even with his dark hair mired in sweat and slicked back today. He’s tall, taller than Zeke and maybe even Reiner, with a strong nose and gentle eyes that watch you hopefully in spite of his words.

The Warrior program and boarding school means no one has ever looked at you like that before, and the novelty has excitement blooming in your chest. Maybe a slight pink on your cheeks, too, which you try to hide with a smile.

“I think so,” you say, his gaze and then his shock making you feel a new kind of brave. “And I have bumped into him a few times. ...Sorry again about yesterday.”

“That’s all right. Bumping into you isn’t so bad,” he says almost smoothly, very nearly matching your courage until he remembers Mrs. Yeager and, as such, his embarrassment. “...You know, because Mrs. Yeager bought so much. I’ve never seen my aunt so thrilled.”

You’ve never been this thrilled either—attractive boys were a constant topic for your peers at boarding school, but then you’ve never had the chance to meet one. You still haven’t. Kellan is an attractive man, a few years your senior and hardly a boy. And you aren’t a liar. He’s very pleasing to look at, especially when his eyes search yours so intently.

“Of course,” you say, trying not to look nervous when you take a step closer and reach for the baskets he’s holding. “Well, thank you for helping Mrs. Yeager. But I can take those.”

Kellan withdraws the arm holding her basket, giving you a once-over. “What do you mean?”

“Lucy is our guest at home,” says Mrs. Yeager, who looks far too pleased with herself. “Even if she refuses to let us carry our own things.”

“Please,” you feign a sigh. “I haven’t kept up with some training for nothing.”

Kellan looks confused as he glances between the two of you, but he’s determined when you meet his gaze again. “Lucy,” he begins, “remember that bookstore I mentioned yesterday? I was thinking—did you want to drop by after this so I can show you which books you can start with?”

“Really?” you ask. Perhaps you were hoping to see him again, make a friend or two at campus, but you didn’t think your encounters could actually move past hello and goodbye. But Mrs. Yeager was right. He is handsome, dark-eyed and tall, and the idea of more of those shy smiles is a flattering one. “Well… I’d like that. But I wanted to bring these home first. And aren’t you helping at your aunt’s stall?”

“I can take a break,” he says easily, smile growing just a little more confident. “And I can help you bring these home! You shouldn’t be carrying all these yourself. Er… If that’s all right with you, Mrs. Yeager. And I’d just have to change quickly. Been out here since early this morning.”

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Yeager answers for you, giving you an openly suggestive look. You pretend not to see it, but stifle a smile yourself.

Politely averting his eyes to spare you the embarrassment, Kellan reaches for the basket on your right arm, and for a moment you understand the Dr. Yeager of a little while ago. But you’ve never experienced anyone’s chivalry before, excepting Bertholdt (and he was an angel to just about everybody and he was twelve). You can suffer Kellan’s for now.

“Thank you,” you say reluctantly. “But only that one. I have my pride to consider, you know.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, readjusting the baskets along his arms. When he shifts them all to just one arm so he can wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his damp hair glistening slightly, you imagine the tales you’ve read of countryside romances at the school library and remember to swoon a little. When he catches you looking and glancing away, Kellan smiles.

“Where to, ladies?”

You find Dr. Yeager with your carp, and he is just as pleased as his wife to have another helper no matter how much he claims he can take another basket of his own. Your fears of Kellan’s talk of med school bringing out unhappy memories in Zeke’s grandfather come to nothing when Dr. Yeager expresses interest in the university system nowadays, and you’re happy to listen to the men converse about Kellan’s plans for specialization on the way home.

“I’ll get it,” Mrs. Yeager says when you arrive, hurrying to unlock the door, and the three of you file into the house while she keeps it open. To everyone’s surprise, the door to the kitchen is already ajar: Zeke and Porco are sitting at the table, poring over folders together in silence. It seems they didn’t hear you come in.

“Good morning, you two,” Dr. Yeager’s surprised remark shatters their deep focus, and both of them spring out of their seats. They immediately turn the folders over and stack them next to a small paper bag.

It’s Zeke who relaxes first. “Grandpa,” he greets, casually nodding at each of you until he spots Kellan coming in from behind you. He doesn’t notice himself straightening up to his full height.

Before he can ask, Mrs. Yeager beams at the sight of Zeke’s guest. “Porco! What a nice surprise. You rarely come to visit.”

Porco’s suspicious brow slackens into a smile for her. It’s almost sheepish, and if that’s the case, is it really Porco? “Sorry, Mrs. Yeager.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Things have been really busy.”

“What are you two doing here?” you ask, rubbing your arms as you set the baskets down by the counter. You join them standing by the table at Dr. Yeager’s urging. “I thought you worked Sundays.”

It is Porco, because he snorts, only a little more politely since the Yeagers are around. “We were supposed to, until our Warchief realized he left work at home.”

Zeke shrugs helplessly. “It slipped my mind. I hardly ever bring home work.”

Porco remembers that you were the one in a hurry to leave HQ two days ago, prompting Zeke to forgo leaving the files in his office when Boy Wonder decided he would accompany you home, which is seriously stupid because you don’t really need any more babysitting. But then the two of you did pass by the family bakery and Mr. Finger—so he decides to stay quiet for now.

On that matter, anyway. He gestures to Kellan, who is quietly helping Mrs. Yeager unload the baskets. “Who’s the guy?”

You shoot him a reproachful, wide-eyed look. “Porco—!”

“This is Kellan. He’s studying to be a doctor, a few years ahead of Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager interrupts. She hardly knows him and she’s already proud of him, it seems, pushing him next to you by the table. He apologizes when the surprising force of her shove has him bumping into you.

“Right.” You steady him with a hand on his upper arm and are unsurprised to find muscle there. “Uh, Kellan helped us bring the groceries home. We’re heading out in a bit so he can show me some textbooks I can study ahead of time, regardless of which professors I get.”

“Textbooks?” Porco repeats with a chuckle. “Since when do you study, Blanchard?”

“Since a while ago, Galliard,” you say pleasantly, even with your teeth gritted, wondering if it’s possible to burn alive with embarrassment while hoping Porco catches alight himself. When the new Jaw only continues to look amused, you sigh. “Kellan, this is Porco, and that’s Zeke.”

You could announce their last names, but everyone in the zone knows who the Warriors are, and Kellan already seems uncomfortable. You hope it’s not because of Porco’s remark and consider throttling the man.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Kellan says anyway, politely offering his hand.

You hold back when Porco shakes it. It goes on for a little longer than you expect and their knuckles are paler by the end of it, but you suppose that’s better than nothing, which is exactly what Zeke gives when Kellan extends a hand to him next.

“The pleasure is ours,” Zeke says in lieu of doing anything else. He’s smiling, one hand in the pocket of his uniform while the other holds half the stack of folders. “Kellan, right? You’re pretty persistent, huh?”

Kellan presses his lips together as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

Zeke stares at him a little longer before he chuckles. “Nah.”

You’re not surprised. Zeke always takes his time warming to people, if he ever does. When he meets your gaze, his amusement softens into something a little more natural.

You smile back, unsure why you feel embarrassed all of a sudden when Mrs. Yeager comes up from behind you. “All right, Kellan, thank you for accompanying us home. Now, off you two go.”

You survey the kitchen counters with a grimace. The groceries still need sorting. “But Mrs. Yeager—” you and Kellan start in unison, and then exchange glances. His light laughter is a little more than charming.

“Ugh,” Porco mutters, echoing more than just his own sentiments.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Yeager says before you can notice. She rounds the four of you to pat the shoulders of Zeke and Porco. “I’ve found two new helpers in your stead. You can spare a few minutes, can’t you, dears?”

Kellan looks to Dr. Yeager. “But—”

“We can handle it,” Zeke cuts him off, but he’s decidedly ignored the man, waving at you instead. “Do what you need to, Lucy.”

“Thanks,” you beam at him, feeling oddly silly. Like a child playing adult as Kellan opens the door for you. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun, kids,” Porco calls out. He chuckles when you glance over your shoulder to shoot him a deadpan look, only to find Zeke giving him the exact same one once the front door clicks shut.

“What?”

“I’m sorry about that,” you say as soon as you leave the Yeager household and head down the steps toward the street. You glance back at Kellan, waiting for him to follow. “Zeke and Porco are nice when you get to know them. And vice-versa.”

Kellan nods, looking at you. “You seem close.”

“Yeah,” is all you can say. When you don’t say more, he doesn’t pry.

He asks to drop by the market again so he can pick up his things and an extra shirt, and you walk in relative silence until you reach it.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, open palms pressing at the air as if you’ll disappear the moment he leaves. It’s cute from someone so much taller than you.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he does too before diving back into the crowd.

You adjust your armband as you back into a nearby building and watch the coming and going of Eldians through the tightly-packed throng. Long ago, during your first foray into one of the zone’s open air markets, you were disgusted and confused. Only your growing regard for the Yeagers and the thought of Zeke’s sarcastic surprise at the little you knew of the world had kept your mouth shut.

Over the years you came to accept it as part of this temporary home, and market day a time when Eldians could happily interact with familiar faces and keep one another apprised of their trials amid life in the zone. The strong stench of the place became a reminder of this affection you could only find within a community, one completely nonexistent in the grand, empty gardens of the Tybur estate.

The first summer after you left showed you that to Eldians outside of Marley, the Liberio internment zone—a place you still consider a prison for people you care about, where stepping outside its gates to look for a pharmacy when those in the zone have nothing more to offer can end in a beating—is paradise. It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world, but it’s your world. The world that the Tyburs have allowed to flourish.

Alone with your thoughts, you find yourself nervous. Why is Willy coming here? Only Mila was ever permitted to come and visit you—but that was when father was still alive.

Perhaps if Willy sees Liberio, the place that raised you...

You find yourself hopeful. Maybe it was father all along. Maybe Willy isn’t a coward after all.

“Sorry about the wait. Lucy?”

Kellan stands before you, hair no longer damp but brushed down a little more properly. The apron has disappeared in favor of a new button-down, the strap of his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

His sleeves are still rolled up. You like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile, readjusting the purse at your side. “Ready to go?”

Kellan nods, and is much more talkative now that he feels more presentable around you. He apologizes for his silence earlier—his own scent was bothering him, and he was embarrassed—and he starts to tell you about university as soon as you ask.

The bookstore he mentioned is a little far from the Yeagers’, but it is useful. Many are secondhand, but the store is vigilant about keeping only those published in the last five years. It regularly gets donations, perhaps from sympathetic Marleyans, though how they would know about it you can only wonder.

Kellan advises you as to the best books when it comes to basic medical subjects, which are what you’ll be taking up in your first year. In spite of Porco’s little joke, you’re eager to get started working toward that degree. General List’s words may hang over your head, but now that Willy is coming to Liberio, you have time to wait to tell him instead of putting off writing Lara about it.

“Wow,” Kellan remarks, once you’ve bought everything. “You really are serious about this.”

You glance up at him with a frown you can’t help. “You thought I wasn’t?”

“It’s not that,” he says at once, holding the door open for you as you leave the shop. He offers to take the books off your hands, but you hold the pile to your chest, waiting for his reply. “No, it’s more—I thought I was the only one who did this kind of thing. Study ahead of the year if I can.”

You relax somewhat at his words. “You do this too?”

Kellan nods, and when he reaches again, you let him take half your books. “My friends made fun of me, but I mean to become a physician. There aren’t enough Eldian doctors to attend everyone in the zone, and… I want to help.”

“I see,” you murmur. Suddenly, Kellan seems a lot more charming than he is already. “I bet you’re at the top of your class or something.”

Kellan only smiles, and you blink at him.

“Are you?”

He looks embarrassed about it the way you know most men in your life wouldn’t be. “One of my professors said if I wasn’t Eldian, I might have been offered a scholarship.”

“That’s amazing,” you say, a mix of admiration and pity swirling in your stomach. You wish you could help him. Do more for a man like this.

“Yeah, well…” Kellan shrugs, but he easily replaces his bitterness with a smile when he looks at you again. “You have a good study ethic yourself. You’ll do great.”

You can’t help but laugh at that one. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like passing the state exams was a fluke.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it were.” It’s his turn to frown. “None of us Eldians would.”

You wish that were true. Of course, you took the exams as Lucy Blanchard, and for all intents and purposes Willy had nothing to do with your results. You studied ridiculously hard to earn your grades and the state exam score—it’s just difficult not to wonder when Lord Tybur has always known what you were up to.

“Look.” He stops, moving to stand in front of you. “I know we just met, but—I don’t like hearing you say that about yourself. Okay?”

You can only smile. You haven’t known Kellan for half a day, but you don’t feel like challenging him the way you would the others if they said that to you. It feels like he deserves more than that. “Let’s just say I was always the more sports-oriented type. But thank you.”

Kellan looks at you as though he thinks you might say something self-deprecating again and he’s ready to gainsay it. When you don’t, he nods with approval and looks ahead. “Uh, so I was thinking…”

“What is it?”

“My friends study with me nowadays on university grounds. We’re allowed to, and the university library does have some books the store might not. The cafeteria has great food we don’t have in the zone, too.”

He glances over at you, and when you continue to wait for his point, he asks, “Do you want to study with us, maybe tomorrow afternoon? We have lectures to attend this summer, but I can maybe… pick you up afterward? The permit office will let you if you show them that you’ve confirmed your slot. If you want to,” he adds.

His offer is surprising and exciting and daunting in equal measure, because of course someone wanting to spend more time with you is nice, even if you’re ambivalent about meeting new people. Of course, the new people you met at boarding school knew you as Lucy Blanchard, the daughter of some Eldian servant for the Tyburs, and they were Marleyan to boot. Kellan’s friends are Liberio Eldians too. Maybe they’ll be just like him.

“I do want to.”

His uncertain expression immediately lights up. “Great,” he beams. “Will you be at the Yeagers’ tomorrow?”

“Uh… yeah,” you answer, after some thought. You’ll be at HQ most likely, but you can always leave ahead of Zeke. “Just tell me what time you’ll arrive and I’ll have my permit ready by then.”

“Okay,” he says, pleased. “That works.”

You exchange smiles, and he walks you back to the Yeagers with a more relaxed silence than when you left. He hands you your books once you’ve unlocked the door to the house.

“I really have to get back to my uncle’s, but…” He scratches the back of his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, right? Maybe… four?”

“Yeah,” you grin. When he waves, disappearing down the street, you hurry back inside toward the dining room. But it’s empty, with everything sorted in the kitchen. The Yeagers have left a note on the dining table about going out on a Sunday date, apparently presuming you would be out all day, but there’s another note from Zeke on the folded paper bag he and Porco brought home earlier.

Crybabies only, it says. You thought it was part of Warrior work, but you open it and find a few jars of your old favorite fruit jam.

“Tch,” you chuckle, fishing out the jars and storing them, but you take Zeke’s note and bring it upstairs with your books.

You get started on a simple lunch soon after. You want to re-wrap your new books in time for tomorrow afternoon, and make a note to replace Mrs. Yeager’s roll of plastic entirely since you neglected to buy your own. Once you get your permit for tomorrow, it’s still early enough that you have time to visit Mr. Finger, especially since you forgot to yesterday, and you end up sharing his dinner. You were embarrassed about dropping in when he was cooking, but he’s happy for the company, especially while Pieck is away.

To your relief, there are no guards in plainclothes outside the Yeagers’ when you return, and Mr. and Mrs. Yeager are in the living room chatting quietly between them. You greet them and hurry upstairs before they can ask you about Kellan, and allow yourself to linger in the bath when your reflection on Kellan inevitably leads to Mila and the night before.

Given how angry she was yesterday, you already know what she would say to you if she found out about any man like him. Not that you have ever considered sharing your life with anyone, but surely she would accuse you of trying to find some way out of your duty again, even when she knows that the family made sure—

The doorknob turning to no avail rattles into your thoughts. It must be Zeke, since you share a bathroom, so you hurry to get out and get dressed into your pajamas again. Once you’ve brought your things to your room, you give his door a knock.

He opens it pretty quickly. It seems he wasn’t expecting you, because he looks surprised to see you still drying your hair with your towel. On his part, he’s still in his uniform—just without the coat and the belt, one side of his shirt unceremoniously tucked out of his pants. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smile, more pleased than you should be. You feel like you’ve been waiting to see him all day. “Was that you? I’m done with the bathroom.”

“Ah. Thanks. I’m still finishing something anyway,” he nods, and leaves the door open when you don’t immediately turn and go.

You follow him inside, flopping at the edge of his bed while he goes to his desk again. “What are you working on?”

“Warrior stuff.”

Something must have him in a mood, but there’s no use poking him at this stage. “I saw the jam. Thanks for that.”

Zeke turns away from his desk, his serious countenance lingering just a little before it finally falls away for mischief at the reminder of his little gift. “Like my note?”

“No. And only because it means I’ll have to share it with you.”

“Heh. Yeah, sorry—just putting off turning in paperwork I should’ve gotten done before.” He sighs, obviously trying to settle down, at least until he seems to recall something else. He glances back at whatever he was writing, his pen swaying noisily between his fingers as it hits his desk. After a beat, he slides his work a little further away from him and asks, “How was the date?”

You’d almost forgotten about that. “Oh—it wasn’t a date,” you say, and realize how strange it feels to be discussing a boy with Zeke. “Kellan is just helping me study ahead of the semester.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, like a promise. You don’t care to mention that you’ll spend time with Kellan and his friends tomorrow afternoon. That was implied, right?

Zeke shrugs, sitting back against his desk chair. “When did you get so fond of studying, anyway?”

You shoot him a dirty look. “The way you and Porco tell it, it’s like I didn’t know how to read.”

“No,” he laughs, making the denial sound a lot more like affirmation, “I just mean you hated it. Before Bruning knew who you were, you were in the running for either the Jaw or the Armor for a reason.”

You peer at him. When Zeke only lifts a brow, challenging you to deny it, you click your tongue. “I guess. But I didn’t inherit anything, so what was I supposed to do? I was never interested in the varsity teams… not that they would have let me join as Lucy Blanchard. And I wanted to be useful somehow. I mean, actually useful.”

“I know,” Zeke says, watching your fingers lightly pinch at the hem of your pajama top in frustration. It’s almost amusing how your tells haven’t changed a bit, but he can’t deny that it’s endearing. “Well… I’m glad you’re doing something apart from getting me in trouble for once.”

Your jaw drops. “I never got you into trouble for that long, did I?”

The two of you meet eyes for a moment, knowing the answer to that, but you both choose not to bring it up. He wouldn’t put you through that memory again.

“I don’t know,” he grins. “How long did I stand there getting an earful when you glued Nickel’s belt together?”

You stare at him, genuinely trying to remember—before you burst into laughter, hand over your mouth in sheer horror at the memory, as though you can’t fathom ever having done such a thing. Zeke is shaking his head, trying not to smile, when you finally calm down enough to present your defense. ��That—that was Pieck’s idea!”

“No, Pieck said she wanted to do it. You actually did it.”

“But it was funny,” you grin. “And Nickel deserved it. Besides, I paid for that too.”

“Yeah…” Zeke’s smile falters. He remembers. You had been about this close to being force-fed the glue you used that afternoon, when you found one of Magath’s fellow instructors asleep in his office. “Nickel deserved everything that came to him.”

He remembers what you looked like when they found you, busted lip still stubbornly set in a line, trembling as Pieck shed silent tears when Magath dragged Nickel out of sight. But then your foot nudges his leg, pulling him from his reverie so he remembers what you look like now. Not a bruised or bloody memory that still wakes him at night sometimes, covered in sweat, but Lucy in the flesh, with a knowing expression on your pretty face. Zeke supposes he’s just as easy to read when you know his tells, too.

“Well... sorry about that anyway,” you say. “Pieck had a name for my brand of stupidity for a reason.”

Zeke knows what you’re doing. He grants it to you with a sigh. “No sense of self-preservation.”

“That. Don’t worry—I’ve developed one since then. Or Pieck’ll really give up on me this time.”

You give him a smile, as if he’s the one who needs comforting when it comes to that night. Why did he have to bring it up? He would put his foot in his mouth if that didn’t remind him of Paradis—of his most recent nightmare. The thought of everything you don’t know makes him feel like an ocean separates the two of you all of a sudden. Like you’re here, and he’s still on that island, a blade jammed into his maw. He shivers.

You lean a little closer, elbow on the footboard. Of course you’ve noticed. “What’s wrong?”

Leaving his pen on the desk, Zeke moves over to sit next to you on his bed. If nothing else, he can at least shorten the distance in one way.

He has a lot to tell you, Paradis foremost of them all. He knows Pieck must have said something, but he’s managed to avoid the topic so far.

He has a lot to ask, too—what was normal school like? Did you really not have any friends? You seemed to make easy enough friends with that Kellan character.

Zeke looks at you like he wants to say something, and then gets as far as opening his mouth before clearly thinking better of it.

“It’s Pieck.”

Alarmed at his tone, you inhale sharply. “What about Pieck? Is she all right?”

He was holding his breath himself, but he relaxes with a chuckle.

“Yeah. She’ll be back with the Panzer Unit in less than a week.”

“Oh! Good,” you say, but then stare at him, obviously catching the lie in his old answer now. But he sees it when you shift priorities (Pieck was always one of them)—you’re clearly excited to have her home earlier than she promised, but the why of it is giving you pause. “So soon?”

“Yep.” He shifts away so that he’s moving up his own bed, at least until he catches you giving him a disgusted expression. You can’t stand it when someone still in their out clothes wears them to bed, and he knows that very well. That earns you an eyeroll, but you’ve had so many arguments about it at this point, many of which began with well it’s my bed and which ended only because he couldn’t stand hearing you talk any longer, that Zeke only sighs and practically vaults himself off his sheets so he can grab a change of clothes before you can start.

He makes a twirling motion with his finger when you look, and you turn to face the wall. This must be the quickest that Zeke has ever grabbed or changed his clothes outside the rush of Warrior training as a kid. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly conscious with you in the room. It’s just you.

“You know it doesn’t count if you don’t shower, right?” you ask.

Zeke makes a snorting sound as he climbs back onto his bed in a shirt and a pair of pajamas, even if he feels like he’s twelve wearing the whole get-up right now. This time he ignores you until he’s got his back against his pillows and the headboard, legs stretched out over his blanket and his arms crossed over his stomach. “Do you want to know why Pieck is coming back soon or not?”

Your turn to roll your eyes. “Fine.”

Smiling triumphantly, he pulls out one of his pillows and tosses it on the empty space next to him. You wrinkle your nose at him, but he did give you the clean pillow when he’s given you the other before, so you let yourself fall forward on your stomach and rest your head on your arms, both crossed over his pillow. Your hair looks warmer than usual against the light of his lamp as you peer up at him. “So?”

Zeke looks away and shrugs. He shouldn’t be telling you this. But if his room isn’t safe for secrets, then where is? “One reason. Lots of movement in the south these days.”

Between the old Southern borders of Marley and Ulodana lies its new Southern territories, swept off the board by Marley and into its net in years past through the efforts of the Warrior generation before yours. Mr. Ksaver’s, to be exact, before they started training children. You had heard of minor attempts at guerilla warfare within those former nations in their bid for freedom, but little else. After your summer excursion with Mila, you began to distance yourself from news of the world when it came to Marley’s expansion, the Warriors’ activities especially so. Ignorance was better than guilt back then, but Zeke doesn’t know that.

“The South… you quelled a small rebellion there, right?”

“Yeah, but…” One of his hands drums near your pillow, tugging once at its corner as he asks, “You don’t know?”

“The Tyburs aren’t told everything.”

“Fair enough. Between the two of us,” he says, giving you a meaningful look you return with an earnest nod, “a couple of the leaders escaped into the eastern peninsula. Who knows what support they’ve gotten since then?”

You take a deep breath and hum as you exhale. “...That explains why General List reached out to me.”

“List? He’s the one who called the meeting with you?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows. “Didn’t the commander say he was there?”

“He doesn’t tell me everything. So have you decided?”

You almost look amused. “You know I can’t move without Willy’s say-so.”

He shrugs. Needless to say he doesn’t care all that much for the new Lord Tybur, who sounds just as absent as your old man was back then. “I meant what do you want?”

When your surprise at his question starts to fade, you lower your gaze at his quirked brow, slouching a little. “I don’t know. List wants me to… ‘be the new face’ of the Foundation. Distance it, myself from the regime so we can build headquarters abroad and bring in intelligence. That way we can bring more Eldians into the safety of the organization, but...”

“What?” Zeke snaps, sitting upright all of a sudden, but all the reasons you shouldn’t do it skid to a halt behind his teeth when you recoil in surprise. He pauses, clearing his throat, and reaches up to scratch behind his ear instead. “...would your brother put you in danger like that? What about Tybur non-involvement?”

You scoff, eyes narrowed at nothing you can see here. “That’s not what the general thought. He only said Willy wouldn’t do it to Mila.” Zeke grunts at her name, and you shake your head. “I mean… maybe it’s moot. She would never give up control of the Foundation.”

“Yeah... Maybe.” Maybe it’s enough that you’re ambivalent. General List is one of General Calvi’s close allies, and he’s well-known in certain circles to get what he wants. But even he can’t change the century-old tradition of Tybur ‘neutrality,’ even if part of Zeke is curious to see if Mila Tybur or Hulbart List would win in a battle of wills.

He sets that aside when he catches a distant look in your eye. He’s only ever seen one reason you’ve looked like this. Or two. “She didn’t drop by again today, did she?”

You shake your head. “She had Foundation business yesterday. She must have gone from the city last night the minute she left here.”

“Then what is it?”

You look at him, and now he knows what it is. “I just… ugh,” your eyes fall to his sheets. “I don’t know. I was so pathetic yesterday. I wish I—I wish that I could have said something to her.” Your voice is quieter when you add, face flush with embarrassment, “I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

“This again,” he says at once. It was difficult not to cut you off from the get-go. “Have you forgotten already? If you have to be pathetic…” He reaches over to graze your chin with the curve of his index finger, tilting it forward so that you meet his gaze. “You can be pathetic in front of me. Understand?”

His soft smile is the same as it was in the hallway yesterday. Warm still, like the solid expanse of his chest when you wept in his arms, but suddenly his finger beneath your skin feels hot. Tingles where he touches you. Like your face, now that he’s looking at you like that.

That’s not right. Zeke is either an annoying jerk who should shut his face forever or all comfort, blankets tucked up to your nose after a grueling day of work and a warm bath; a good night’s rest. Wrapped up in a hot blanket, the murmur of his voice lulling you into a deep and restful sleep. Not standing over a precipice with only the whim of the wind behind you or the rush of blood pounding through your ears without warning.

This is not the Zeke you’ve wanted back for the past six summers.

His touch scalds you—or maybe the memories you keep closest to your heart, as if any closer, any longer and it might burn them away forever.

You tremble, but not with pain, and decidedly ignore it as you stare at him, forcing a slight wince on your mouth. You hope he doesn’t notice you gulp. “That was probably more impressive when I was a kid.”

Zeke lets his jaw drop—it must have been a while since anyone denied him their awe—but he only laughs, so deep and hearty you feel his mirth in your own chest, before he flicks a finger at your nose. “You little ingrate. That was supposed to be touching!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grin, a little too widely for your own good. Batting away at his hand, you sit up and slide off his bed. You’re strangely hyperaware of the way you gulp again once your feet find your slippers. When your eyes meet, he’s pretending to be cross with you. Maybe you like it better that way.

“But thank you,” you say, rubbing an arm. “Really.”

Zeke only nods, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as you head for the door. “Lucy—you still coming to HQ tomorrow?”

You glance back only once you’ve got your hand on the doorknob. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he says, but he looks pleased. “All right, get out. Distracting me from work and then telling me I’m not impressive anymore…”

“Spend more time with the kids. They still think the world of you. Good night!”

Zeke could probably chuck a pillow at you when you give him a little cackle before shutting his bedroom door, but he lets you escape with your dignity intact.

At any rate, he’s in a much better mood when he gets back to work.

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If you're worried about Kellan, you can click the fic list link on my bio for spoilers. (assuming you haven’t already read the other oneshots ahahha)

The flashback at the start of the chapter (as well as the others in the next few chapters) is something of an edited excerpt from a long-ass oneshot I wrote detailing Lucy’s childhood from before she left the Tybur estate, going through her Warrior training, and until a little after the time Lara inherited the War Hammer which I was/am debating with myself about editing&posting maybe after finishing the sequel fic to this which occurs during the Mid East-Marley War. I wondered if I should keep flashbacks out except for 2 crucial flashbacks toward the end of the story, but I’ve been sad about the dumb leaks post-139, having this feeling of ‘what’s the point of all this then if it all ends in that’ (even if this will be canon divergent), and I decided I would like to show the most important bases for Lucy’s relationships with at least Zeke and Pieck before she left, plus editing this in made me happy, so yeah.

Also! I know Zeke was a sweet little boy... but he was alienated by his classmates when he did poorly at first and burdened with expectation his whole life. No doubt that alienation shifted to sudden praise, admiration, or jealousy as soon as he became a candidate, and my hc is it made him a cynical kid when it came to others his age and even older people. Of course, he does eventually learn to be more charming (or annoying) and does have friends (as much as you can have friends in his position and with his life view), but that to me is why he’s like that at 12. Mr. Ksaver is exempt from this obviously as he completely trusts the man.

Another note: This is tagged zeke x reader because it’s in 2nd person POV, but also zeke x oc because reader or Lucy has a set background and family name. If you've gotten this far in interim I'm sure you already know what that is. XD So... please don’t send me hate or frustrations about why she looks like she does in the commissioned art I linked in the top of this chapter. Her family name necessitates that she’s white, I'm sorry. I hate having to say this but I'm not white either, or white-passing or w/e, but as I said in my note in chapter 1 I want to write a Tybur OC. If you’re going to send hate about me making a Barbie doll to complete Zeke or whatever I’m just going to delete it. Lucy is much more than that, in fact Zeke is not an entirely positive force in her life though they may appear to implicitly understand one another, and I have an entire background story and development for her that I‘m excited to write and share. I’m (not) sorry if me taking the time out from that to commission art that makes me happy grinds your gears. Of course I hope that readers will enjoy what I've written for myself but if you don't like it, just click away please. I won't be responding to complaints about that from here on out.

Anyway, thank you as always for reading! Would love to hear what you think. Of the flashback, of Kellan, of Zeke, of Lucy's blatant denial of certain things (I love and hate this), whichever! (Also can you tell I love Porco? He notices everything. Or almost everything.)

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see. Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue. They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me. I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop. Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly. “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday. It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him.

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for. And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted. “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation. If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands. But, they have to pull this off. It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions. Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion. She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work. When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out. I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.” My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile. “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

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#the miys #humans are weird #found family #siblings #humans will pack bond with anything #aliens #post apocalyse #post post apocalypse #science fiction #original science fiction #haw #hfy

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 3 years

Note

Do the same thing for Heaven Official's Blessing (use Maas characters to tell the story)!

Heaven Official’s Blessing // TGCF told using ACOTAR characters (Obviously there will be spoilers, read at your own risk)

TGCF is told in a non-linear form, with Books 1, 3, and 5 taking place in the present, and Books 2 and 4 acting as flashbacks. I will be telling the story in a pure linear format.

** I’m going to have to ask people to ignore shipping stuff for the sake of this. I matched characters based on their personalities, so things became kind of scrambled.

THIS WAS VERY VERY HARD TO WRITE OKAY

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful Crown Princess named Elain. She was completely beloved by her people not only for her looks, but for her kindness, warmth, and incredible talents. Whatever she put her mind to, Princess Elain would easily accomplish, and those who read fortunes often said she was born on an auspicious day and was blessed with unparalleled good fortune.

Princess Elain’s father was fairly elitest and tended to ignore the common folk, but Princess Elain made it her mission in life to protect them and ease everyone’s burdens.

When Princess Elain was 17, the royal capitol held a parade to the king of the heavens, Helion. In this parade, an elite warrior dressed as the Divine Hero would actually spar with another elite warrior dressed as a Demonic Beast. The parade would circle the capitol as the two warriors fought, only ending when their stamina ran out and they were too tired to carry on. The more laps the procession completed before this happened, the more good fortune it would invite and the more honor to the god Helion. Generally the goal was around 15-20 laps.

On the third lap, as people clamored to see clearly the Hero and Beast battle, there was a horrible accident. A deformed child in the crowd, barely 8 years old at MOST, was knocked from his perch on a high wall and fell to his death.

As he fell, the Divine Hero abandoned their battle and leapt high into the air to catch the poor child. Picture like wire work when I say “leapt high”, it counts more as minor flight.

In the rescue, the Divine Hero’s mask comes off and it is revealed to be none other than Princess Elain herself! The Divine Beast was Elain’s bodyguard, Cassian.

While the common people go FERAL for this beautiful Princess who saved a wretched orphan’s life, the royal priests are angered. They warn Elain that her actions are an insult to Helion, and she must repent to avoid his wrath.

Elain famously and simply replies that if a god would begrudge her saving a child’s life, then they are not worthy of becoming a god.

And in spite of the priest’s words, the heavens agree with Princess Elain.

The child Elain saved has half his head heavily wrapped in bandages, but Elain is not afraid of him. She cradles him in her arms and he is mesmerized by her face. Still, after someone tries to move the bandage to see his face, the child runs away and vanishes.

This child was Azriel.

Tamlin is Elain’s cousin. His mother was a royal lady who had a baby with an abusive brute, and she ended up dying in disgrace after being abandoned by him. Tamlin was therefore raised by Elain’s mother, and he is disturbingly obsessed with the glory of his Princess Cousin. He is also dangerously unhinged and violent.

Just a few days after the ruined parade, Tamlin is racing through the city streets in his carriage, whipping his horses raw and yelling that if he runs over anyone it is their own fault. He has no cares for anyones lives, and Princess Elain considers him a thorn in her side.

Princess Elain is out with her bodyguard, Cassian, and her personal servant, Lucien. They see Tamlin coming and no only is he driving dangerously, there is a bloody sack tied to the back of the chariot.

Elain and Cassian leap onto the carriage to stop Tamlin, while Lucien breaks the rope on the sack. Elain and Cassian take Tamlin into custody, knocking him out, and Elain is ready for Tamlin to be thrown into prison for his behavior.

She opens the bloody sack, and inside finds Azriel. Tamlin was so incensed that the royal priests were angry with Princess Elain that he decided to kill Azriel to “avenge” his cousin!

Elain brings Azriel to the royal palace to be healed by the physicians within. He has broken bones and cuts all over his body, but again he strikes out if someone tries to move the bandages on his face. For his part- Tamlin is locked in his rooms and his carriage is destroyed, he is banned from leaving the palace.

But once again, Azriel slips out and runs away.

A few months later, black clouds swirl over the Royal Palace, and in a massive thunderclap, Elain ascends to the heavens as a newborn Warrior Goddess. Though by the laws of the heavens she cannot enter her kingdom for one thousand generations (to make sure she doesn’t give favors to the families of old friends), her father and his people build 10,000 temples in her name, several with massive statues of pure gold.

Goddess Elain brings Lucien and Cassian to the heavens with her, to help her in her duties as a god. She must intercede when appropriate (if there are demons or ghosts attacking people) and answer prayers. Despite the ban, she likes to sit on the altars of her temples, invisible, and listen to the prayers of her followers.

Elain doesn’t like the wealth and splendor of her temples, she wishes people would not bow, and just wants things to be simpler.

After a few years as a goddess, while wandering her city, she notices a crummy old shrine tucked into a forgotten alley. It is roughly made, with only a flower and a bun on the offerings table.

She watches this little but clearly loved shrine for a long time, and notices that it is tended by an 11 year old boy. He is homeless, cold, malnourished, and had bandages wrapped around half his face. Rather than eat what food he manages to get, he puts it on the offerings table to Elain, only taking a few rotten fruits or moldy buns for himself.

Elain hates to see this- the boy is so desperately starving and yet he leaves food for a goddess who has no need for it. Bullies come and destroy the boy’s shrine. He is beaten by them, but when it is over he only fixes her shrine back up, and curls in a ball beneath it to sleep.

Elain feels that this boy is more sincere in his devotion than those who leave gaudy offerings at her temples, so she leaves the boy some food, a blanket, a straw mat, and some food. When he wakes he knows it was the goddess who heard his prayers, and he is delighted.

She does not realize that this boy is Azriel.

Elain’s country becomes embroiled in a civil war. Elain breaks the rules of the heavens outright and tries to end it before it begins by helping refugees of a horrible drought. She is kind to one refugee, taking on mortal form and helping him bury his son’s body, which he brought to the capitol to show the king of how severe the people’s suffering is. Her father didn’t care, and would not see the poor man.

Elain’s attempts to stop the refugee situation from becoming a civil war as the capitol refuses to send aid go nowhere, and in the end the war begins. She feels she has no choice but to openly step out as a Goddess of War and take the side of the capitol, where her parents still rule. Her heart aches at fighting the common folk, and she is still trying to end the drought in their homeland, but war is inevitable.

During the war, Elain meets a young soldier of only around 15. He is brave and good with a sword- though she advises a saber would suit him better. Though he is too young to really fight, she keeps him by her side. Together they witness the desperation of the refugees, whose leader- the man who she helped bury his son- summons a horrible demon.

Amarantha- a monster who always wears a mask that is half crying, half laughing.

Amarantha calls forth a plague that rips through the capitol. Elain realizes that the only ones who aren’t becoming infected with this plague are the soldiers and criminals- anyone who has taken a life. She realizes if others figure it out, the whole world will be consumed in blood as everyone tries to kill one another for immunity.

Elain’s favorite soldier is removed from the army by Lucien’s command, outing the boy as too young. Azriel is once again thrown aside- not that Elain realized it was him.

Meanwhile Elain, heartbroken at the suffering of her people, makes the ultimate decision: she saves her parents, but leaves the capitol to die and fall. If the refugees- now rebel army- kill everyone inside the capitol then the disease won’t spread (since soldiers would do the killing), and no one would ever know what the cure was. One city to save the world.

Helion knows the Goddess Elain’s heart was in the right place, but her intercession not only failed to stop the war, she made it worse. He is forced to put a Cursed Collar on her, stripping her of all her powers as a goddess. However, instead of her becoming mortal again, Helion gives her an immortal body.

Elain, after all, was only seventeen when she ascended and now could be counted in her twenties. Young by any standard. She is a good person, so Helion grants her the immortal body believing that some experience in the world will help her learn. With time and dedication, she can ascend once again to be a goddess, and he will remove the Cursed Collar.

Lucien and Cassian descend with her.

But her confidence has been shattered. To keep the royal family hidden, they are forced to perform tricks on the streets for meager coins, do manual labor (including on monuments insulting and demeaning the Goddess Elain), and are constantly on the run from members of the new government’s army who are hunting the King and Queen mercilessly.

Eventually, Lucien tells Elain and Cassian that it is simply too much, he’s sick the struggles, and leaves to take care of his own mother. Cassian and Lucien always hated one another and bickered nonstop, but this is the ultimate betrayal. If Cassian could kill Lucien with his bare hands, he would.

Elain becomes paranoid and terrified that Cassian will leave her too. She has no possessions of worth- they’ve all been pawned- but she has a single golden belt left. The mark of a heavenly official. A reminder of what she was and what she must work towards becoming again. She gives it to Cassian, for its value is very high, as a way to beg him to stay.

Soon after, Elain finds a shady merchant selling lanterns she realizes are lit not by fire, but by little flame spirits- remnants of souls that should have been allowed to rest in peace. These spirits were taken from the battlefields around the royal capitol, her soldiers. Elain manages to use a few meager coins to buy them, and goes about releasing the spirits.

One small flame spirit will not leave. It tells Elain that it cannot move on, because its beloved is suffering and it must watch over them always so they will not be alone. Idealistic and lovely, but Elain is too disheartened to feel anything by cynicism towards such words.

She leaves the little spirit- Azriel, who had snuck back onto the battlefields after being removed from the army and was cut down.

And then the king falls ill.

Elain is desperate for coin to help make things easier for Cassian (who is earning most of the money now) and to buy medicine for her father. Everything she tries fails, and, utterly at her wits end, she is forced to try her hand at robbing.

Though Elain is too horrified to actually rob a man, she chases after him and runs afoul of several junior heavenly officials who recognize her. She begs them not to tell anyone, and flees. They swear they won’t say a word.

Elain returns home, and she’s terrified of what she almost did for money. She decides to leave, going to find a mountain with good spiritual energy to meditate and hopefully make progress back towards gaining the merits to become a goddess again.

As soon as she arrives thirty-three heavenly officials come to train on the mountain, as such a thing can even help gods advance among their own ranks. They bully Elain, and eventually mock her for trying to rob the man (those junior gods were assholes and didn’t keep their word).

What’s worse- Lucien is among them. He didn’t go back to care for his mother, he abandoned Elain to become a god once again, a junior in the service of another (not a path Elain can take since she was once a full goddess). He helps chase Elain away.

That little flame spirit- Azriel- is there to witness the humiliation.

Elain flees in tears, running down the mountain until she collapses, sobbing. When she is left staring at the ground, a hand appears to help her up- Lucien. Elain slaps his hand away and screams at him, and leaves.

When she arrives home, Lucien is there with sacks of food and medicine for the King. He tries to explain that he only left to return to the heavens- betraying one master to go to a new one- because he knew he could use the position to get food and such for Elain, Cassian, and the King and Queen.

Elain screams at Lucien to go, throwing the sacks of food at him. Cassian takes Elain’s side, and Lucien lets slip that Elain tried to rob for money. He doesn’t know Cassian didn’t know, and Elain is thrown even further into despair.

More time passes, once again the money and food and medicine run out. Elain starts seeing figures around her where there is nothing- the figure of Amarantha all in white with that horrible mask. Her own robes are sometimes replaced with Amarantha’s, and she is slowly driven mad.

At the absolute edge of sanity, Elain feels a summons drawing her into the woods. She follows it, even when ghostly flames try to block her path and stop her from advancing, and ends up in a ruined temple. A ruined temple that was once hers. The divine statue has been destroyed.

Elain sits on the altar and waits, knowing Amarantha will show up to claim her.

Over hours, people trickle into the temple, and lured by a mysterious summons even they don’t consciously remember following. When there are 100 people inside, wild howls come from around them and crazed figures appear, all infected with the plague that destroyed Elain’s kingdom.

They fall back into the temple and Elain seals the door. She is grabbed by Amarantha, bound, and Amarantha holds her up on the altar by her skull. Amarantha tells the people what Elain was so scared of anyone finding out:: that the plague can be cured if the person is a murderer. Amarantha helpfully explains that Elain cannot die, but if they land a blow on her that would be fatal on another, it counts. To demonstrate, Elain is run through.

The pain is horrible, and when the next person picks up the sword and stabs her, she screams. A white flame spirit enters the building, the one who tried to stop Elain from coming in the first place. Amarantha captures it to play with (torment) as the villagers line up.

No matter how much Elain screams, they stab her. Some slash her throat, so that she can no longer make a sound. She is trapped in her body as it is mutilated and wrecked, staring up at that flame spirit and imagining she can hear it screaming at what is being done to her.

People stab her two or three times, just to be sure they landed a would-be-fatal hit and unable to tell what they are stabbing as she ceases to look even human anymore. Just a pile of ruined flesh spilled across her own altar. Even her face is destroyed.

That flame spirit- Azriel- screams out with every stab, until he can’t take it anymore and loses his sanity. He explodes in a wall of flame that turns all the humans inside the temple- and the infected outside- into ash. Above the skies roil, marking the birth of a particularly dangerous spirit.

Elain lays in agony as her body slowly knits back together. She is dazed as she stumbles away from the ruined temple. Traumatized beyond the brink of insanity. What was done to her horrifies her, and she feels only rage and grief. She was a Goddess, and now not only is she living in squalor and humiliation and degradation, she was attacked by humans for no reason other than personal gain. Not an ounce of kindness shown to her as they hacked at her body.

Elain sees Amarantha, who wants to take her as a disciple and raise her to wreak vengeance against the world. Elain flees.

When she gets home, two weeks (or months, the translation is inconsistent) have passed. Cassian has kept the king alive and the queen has been beside herself. She swears she will never chide Elain again, just please don’t leave.

None of them know what happened to her body. None of them can understand. Elain is sick and tired and broken. And she knows the worst will pass sooner or later- Cassian will abandon her just like Lucien did. Leave her in disgust. She can’t bear thinking about his friendship turning to hate, so she attacks him. She rips him apart with the worst words she can muster, until he leaves in disgust.

You can’t fear something that already happened.

Elain locks herself in her rooms and ignores even her mother’s pleading to come out.

When she wakes, she bathes. She has to go and try to find coin again, but cannot find the bandage she uses to cover half her face and hide her identity (since, you know, as a disgraced goddess her face is everywhere). The house is too quiet, and when Elain opens the doors to her parents room, she finds out why:

With the king’s health failing, and the humiliation of being deposed and on the run, living in squalor, he has lost all hope. Her mother won’t be left behind, and she knows her life is a burden on Elain’s as the fallen goddess tries to care for them.

So the king and queen have hung themselves. Elain carefully takes down their bodies and tries to hang too, but of course this immortal body- a gift from Helion himself- cannot die.

The hangman’s noose has absorbed two lives, and was used in incredible grief by a goddess herself. It is imbued with the love Elain’s parents felt for her and their tragic desire to die as a way to help them. The cloth comes to life, sort of like a snake meets a puppy, but when not in use, it wraps around Elain’s wrist as if her arm were injured.

At the king and queen’s deaths, whatever is left of Elain shatters.

She goes to the battlefields outside the dead royal capitol, her home, and wakes the souls of her people. Millions, all killed in battle or in the plague. She screams to them all, demanding to know if they hate. On her face is the white mask of Amarantha- half crying, half smiling.

And thus, the White Clothed Calamity is born. A twin to the White No-Faced demon (Amarantha).

The souls appear as black smoke that floods into Elain’s blade- the one that was used to mutilate her body. All that hatred condensing.

And in front of Elain appears the form of a soldier. Also wearing a mask. A particularly powerful resentful spirit on his way to becoming a demon.

Not that Elain would recognize Azriel even if she could see, so consumed is she by her hatred and wrath.

Elain takes those souls to the new royal capitol to kill the leader of the rebellion- that man whose child she helped bury. The man who rained hell down on all.

But he’s dead. Killed by the plague. She can’t even take her revenge right.

So Elain goes next to the lands ravaged by that drought, the whole reason for the civil war in the first place. The very city she tried to save as a goddess to stop the war from starting. She drops from the sky, impaled by the black sword. She has given herself three days.

Three days for a single soul to show her an ounce of kindness. If none do, she will unleash those souls and the plague will begin again as the hateful spirits infect body after body until the world runs red with blood.

No one helps her. Not until the third day, when a man trips over her body, cusses her out, and then feels bad for losing his temper. Right as the sun sets on the third day, he takes off his bamboo hat and offers it to her, to protect her from the rain.

A single act of kindness.

But it’s too late. The souls trapped in the sword explode into the sky.

Elain tries to tell the gathering crowd to pick up her sword and just stab her. She’s resigned to being hacked to death again and again if it will save even a single person from what she unleashed in her wrath and grief.

But no one is willing to hurt her. Not even to save themselves, and not even when she is begging them to. Unlike the group in the temple, who attacked her for themselves even when she begged them to stop.

So Elain does something painful and horrible- she raises the sword and draws all those hate-filled spirits into herself. It could very well destroy her, and the pain is worse even than being stabbed, but she will do it. If she can even save one person to undo her own mistake, she’ll do it.

But that second soldier appears again, the one who stood across from her on the battlefield.

He takes the souls into himself. Elain absorbs 300. He takes a million. It destroys him utterly- that kind brave man giving his soul, extinguishing himself forever- just to help her right a wrong.

But Azriel didn’t die. He was blown apart by the power, and re-formed bit by bit later on to become a Wrath-level (tier 3) ghost.

Helion descends from the heavens to meet Elain. Yes, she nearly did something unforgivable, but she was willing to destroy herself to right the wrong. For this- and all her suffering- Helion wishes to bring Elain up to the heavens once again as a goddess.

Her wrath extinguished, her spirit broken, Elain refuses his offer. That poor man’s soul was destroyed (seemingly) because of her. Someone suffered for what she did. She wants to atone, and atone for those one million souls she roused rather than helping them lay at rest in peace.

Elain asks Helion to put a new Cursed Shackle on her. This time not one that banishes her spiritual powers. Once upon a time she met a small boy she saved from falling. She was told she had infinite fortune, well above a normal person’s, but that child’s fate was endlessly dark and wretched.

Elain asks for a shackle that destroys her luck. That takes all of her good fortune and shatters it. Fortune is something that ebbs and flows through the world, by removing all of hers, that luck will be redistributed, and could bring good to the lives of others.

But an offer to return to heaven was granted, so Helion and Elain come up with a little show to explain away the new curse shackle without Helion appearing to punish a goddess who has done no wrong:

Elain ascends, as offered, and storms through heaven, hacking at the bodies of gods and challenging Helion himself. It becomes known famously as her Second Ascension, which lasts all of 10 minutes before she is fitted with a new cursed shackle and hurled form the heavens.

Elain’s life will be wretched, luck-less, and full of strife. Nothing she ever tries will go right. it is a life that would shatter the spirit of anyone. But for Elain, every misfortune means someone else has better luck than they should have. Every harm she suffers means someone else is blessed. She is atoning for what she did, and that makes her happy. She still mourns the soul of that boy who was destroyed, still lives in repentance of that, but she is atoning for her crimes.

During this time, that boy- now a Wrath Level Demon- finds he cannot loose. All the good fortune lost by Elain is funneled into him, and it is impossible for him to not get what he wants. He enters the Demonic Kiln and is re-forged as a Supreme (highest level) Demonic King. His weapons are the Silver Wrath Butterflies- a form he grants to those million souls he swallowed to help Elain.

He wears around his finger a red string, one of the ones that had bound him to that ghost lantern as a little flame spirit, a red string of fate that promises he will find his way back to Elain one day.

Azriel walks into the heavens and challenges thirty-five gods-- those who humiliated Elain on the mountaintop plus Cassian and Lucien, her hateful servants who abandoned her.

Cassian and Lucien refuse the challenge, but thirty-three gods take Azriel’s challenge---

He kills them all.

Not only does he humiliate them in front of their worshippers, he destroys 10,000 of their temples in a single night. One temple for every one of Elain’s that was destroyed when she fell as a goddess. Without worshippers or temples, the gods fade from existence.

Until, 800 years later, the heavens explode. Godly palaces are destroyed (including those of Cassian and Lucien, who are now full gods), the infrastructure shatters, and when the smoke clears there is Elain. A goddess once again. Except instead of being a goddess of war, she is a goddess of misfortune and junk.

To atone for accidentally ruining so many palaces (though she had no power over the size of the boom when she ascended, it corresponds with power), she goes to the mortal realm to solve a mysterious haunting.

The moment she arrives, she finds a silver butterfly following her and is enchanted by it. The butterfly vanishes, and as soon as she steps into the haunted forest a man in red appears, takes her hand, and gently leads her through a blood-rain, destroys barriers that would have kept her contained, and delivers her safely to the lair of the creature she is hunting.

From then on, Azriel is never far from her side. He has hunted for Elain for 800 years. The beautiful princess he fell in love with as a child, and met time and time again without her realizing it. After their second adventure together, Azriel gives Elain a diamond ring to wear around her neck.

If a ghost’s ashes are destroyed or scattered, they die. Elain doesn’t want this to happen to Azriel, who has made himself an enemy of heaven. Azriel only tells her that his ashes are safe, and if their hiding place is ever destroyed or if they are cast away, he has no will to exist any more anyways.

His ashes are contained within that diamond ring, imbued in the stone itself.

Elain doesn’t know why the gods hate Azriel so much, he is warm and kind to her (though admittedly cold to others). Azriel accompanies Elain obediently on many adventures, though every mystery they solve they run afoul of one heavenly official after another.

Elain starts to realize there is a rot in the heavens. So many gods with so many horrible secrets.

Elain and Azriel invade the home of a particularly evil ghost- the Green Demon. Tamlin. After Elain’s fall from grace he went mad, his obsessive feelings towards her turning from admiration to hatred. It was Tamlin who commissioned all those statues of Elain in humiliating and degrading positions. Tamlin is a cannibalistic evil ghost, though lower than Azriel in power.

He quickly takes possession of the body of a man with a small child and refuses to leave, so Azriel cannot even kill him without Elain being angry.

Realizing something is rotten in the heavens, Elain makes her base a rundown cabin barely standing. She lives there with Tamlin as her prisoner and Azriel as her constant companion. That child becomes a noose around Tamlin’s throat- endlessly obedient and loving towards his “father” (whose body Tamlin cannot leave or else Az will kill him). Bit by bit, Tamlin’s cruelty starts to fade (though he’s never really nice per-se, it’s just that he likes the kid).

On her journey she is joined by Nuala and Cerridwen- two low level gods in the service of Lucien and Cassian, who hate one another as much as their masters do. Their masters also hate Elain with a burning passion, so Nuala and Cerridwen help her in secret.

Out of courtesy, Elain pretends that she doesn’t know Nuala and Cerridwen are only Cassian and Lucien in another form, trying to atone themselves for abandoning her so long ago.

As Elain, Azriel, Cassian, and Lucien go on adventure after adventure the crimes of the heavens are unearthed one after another- from a god who killed humans to hide his own crimes to another who worked black magics to steal the good fortune of a man about to ascend to a god and attached it to his unwitting brother, leaving the man’s family to be raped and murdered while his brother enjoyed the divinity that should never have been his, to another god who tortured a mortal to death just for fun.

They start to realize too that Amarantha- who vanished from the world when Elain refused to release her curse- has been close by all along.

For the Demonic Kiln that forges Ghost Kings- that imbued Azriel with so much power- was born of a horrific tragedy 2,000 years ago in which Amarantha’s entire kingdom fell around her.

A tragedy which Amarantha turned into an opportunity- she raided the heavens, slaughtered all of her fellow gods and changed her form.

And as new gods rose, she placed herself upon the throne with this new face--

as Helion.

Elain, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien, and all of their new friends must work together to destroy Helion, find the true King of Heaven, and restore balance to the world before Amarantha plunges it all into chaos and destroys everything Elain loves.

The only one powerful enough to stop Amarantha is Elain, but with her luck sealed away and her powers still stifled by the Cursed Collar, it is up to the Demonic Realm to save the Heavens above before the mortal world is destroyed.

Azriel already died for Elain once. To see her smile freely once again, he’d die a million deaths more. No matter the hardships, this boy who has followed his princess for 800 years will follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond.

And their growing love might just be enough to tip the tides of war in their favor. King Azriel will always find a way to his Elain. Not even a two thousand year old Demonic-King of Heaven can stand in their way.

#Anonymous #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #ok so i mainly described the flashback books #but the main books are episodic within the arcs #still extremely extremely good and they build to form a narrative #but you can summarize it as 'gods suck and often do bad things too'#my writing #LATER THIS WEEKEND I WILL DO THE UNTAMED AS TOG CHARACTERS FOR THE OTHER ASK ANON

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lunasquared · 3 years

Text

It’s a Quiet Starry Place (But With You I’m Safe)

Summary: Tony used to love space, however after the Battle of New York that changed and from then on he feared the one thing he loved most. Until one night almost 5 years later when Peter asked if Tony wanted to watch a meteor shower with him.

Trigger Warnings: Mentioned/Implied Child Abuse, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, and PTSD

AO3 LINK

Story below the cut!

Tony used to love the stars.

As a child he would sneak up to the roof of the mansion on Long Island to lay and watch the stars. It was peaceful for him, quiet he would describe it. A quiet place where his father would never think to look for him. But by that point his father was either too drunk to want to find him or had hit him enough to want nothing more to do with him.

Aside from that, the stars and the moon and the planets up above were fascinating. Space as a whole was fascinating, he could see the stars, he could see the moon, and every once in a while he could see the planets — but he couldn’t see the rest of space. What he could see he was mesmerized by and what he couldn’t see he was determined to discover everything he could possibly discover about it.

Space was safe, to put it in simpler terms.

It was always there when he needed it most. It was constant, yet always changing. It was a topic he could always learn more about, always discover something new and excited about. It was something that was his own to learn about and no one could ruin it for him.

It was rare that Tony would ever bring someone up to the roof with him. Only a special few ever got that privilege, but the night when he was 5 — only his third time to the roof — Jarvis had found him up there quieting his sniffles while staring at the stars. Jarvis didn’t speak at first, he only laid down next to Tony, but the words he spoke that night were what fueled Tony’s interest.

“Look right there.” Jarvis had said, pointing up to the brightest star Tony could see, which Tony had always found a particular interest in the nights prior. “That’s Polaris or the North Star.” There was a pause where Jarvis moved his finger as if it was connecting the stars with lines to make a spoon like shape. “But all of those make up Ursa Minor.”

“What’s that?” Tony asked, curious as to what significance was to the formation itself, as well as what it actually was.

“It’s a constellation.” Jarvis explained. “One of many. You can’t see all of them from here, but in different parts of the world you can see different ones.”

“Is there a story behind them?”

“There’s a story behind all of them.” Jarvis answered, giving Tony an affectionate pat on the head before standing up and going back inside, leaving Tony alone with questions flying through his head faster than he could comprehend and forgetting about why he had even come up to the roof in the first place.

The next day Tony had gone to the library after school and checked out all the books he could about constellations. And for years after that, stars and space were Tony’s fixation. He would go to the roof every night he could trying to find new constellations he had learned about. The nights that were particularly bad for him, he would find all the ones he knew while quietly reciting the stories of each of them to himself.

When Tony went to college at 15 he found out very quickly that the views from the top of his dorm building in Cambridge were nothing compared to what he had seen on Long Island. Nevertheless he enjoyed them just as much and was determined to find any constellations he could see in Cambridge and not on Long Island or in Manhattan.

Through their years at MIT, Rhodey had never questioned where Tony had gone almost every night for a few hours — Tony never brought it up and Rhodey never asked so why would Tony say anything? However, the night before graduation, instead of going to a party with the rest of the graduating class, Tony had grabbed Rhodey’s hand and led him through the city of Cambridge until they reached the roof of the tallest building.

“What are we doing up here?” Rhodey asked eyeing Tony as the boy laid down on the roof.

“Stargazing.” Tony answered, and Rhodey only shrugged before laying down next to Tony.

“Any particular reason why?”

“Well I thought I could show you my favorite spot.” Tony replied while messing with his hair, that desperately needed a haircut, nervously. “Also there’s a meteor shower tonight.”

“Is this where you go most nights?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for showing me this.”

“Thank you for putting up with me.” Tony thanked with a quiet chuckle, and when he saw the first shooting star for the night he made a silent wish that Rhodey would stay his friend even when they parted ways after graduation.

But now — now Tony hates the stars, now Tony hates space.

Of course the one joy in his life that had never left him, was now the thing that scared him most — and it was all because of that damn wormhole.

He saw the army that came through it, and he saw the army that was left in it. He felt the suit shut down, the dead weight it became as he was left suspended in space, the cold seeping into the suit, the suffocation of no longer having oxygen, the fear yet almost sense of peace that had consumed him because maybe this was what Yinsen meant when he had said “don’t waste your life”. Tony had always thought the parts of space he couldn’t see were full of nothingness aside from the stars and the asteroids and the meteoroids and the planets. It wasn’t supposed to be filled with an army that was ready to take over the world. It just wasn’t.

Anytime he closed his eyes and saw that army he would see the little dots of stars with it. His greatest joy and his worst fear in the same place. It shouldn’t be like that, but he supposes that he doesn’t deserve to have that joy.

That’s the worst part about the whole situation; now he doesn’t have his one joy. He can’t go outside at night anymore — seeing the stars is too suffocating, it’s like he’s going through the wormhole all over again.

Going to a roof and looking at the stars used to be Tony’s favorite thing to do, but now it’s too terrifying to even think about.

For years after the Battle of New York, Tony avoided going outside at night at all cost. The fear even extended further than not going outside. Inside the tower any room he was in at night, the windows had to be blocked out with some sort of scenery. If there was just black it made him claustrophobic — too similar to the feeling he got while stuck in the cave in Afghanistan.

The thing is, Tony did try to get over the fear. It wasn’t like he didn’t try at all. But anytime he would go outside or look out the windows after dark, he would have a panic attack. He tried so many times, especially after his therapist had said to try it for exposure therapy, but it ended the same way every time. It was too debilitating to keep doing.

After the whole “Civil War” debacle with Steve and recruiting Spider-Man/Peter Parker in the process, then offering a real internship to Peter after the whole Homecoming fiasco, Tony had built a sort of strong relationship with the kid. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would call it because mentor and mentee was too formal, but father and son was too intimate, they were somewhere in between but Tony wasn’t sure what exactly that was.

Peter would come to the compound Wednesdays and Fridays after school for lab days and more recently had started spending every other weekend at the compound because that was when May worked night shifts. Tonight was one of those weekends. Tony knew that the kid noticed how he kept the windows after it got dark, or how if Peter was going home after dark Happy would drive him, but if it was still light then Tony would, but he never said anything, for which Tony was grateful. Regardless, the fact that Peter didn’t ask was a constant worry within his mind. He would get paranoid that Peter would ask and he would have to explain, to the point that more than once he had spaced out with that running thought and Peter would snap him out of his head.

This stupid fear affected all aspects of his life and it sucked. Tony wanted to be able to go outside and look at the stars again, he wanted to be excited to learn about space again, but anytime he thought about it, all he could see was that goddamn army. It didn’t matter that the Battle of New York had happened over 4 years ago, he could see the army as clearly as the day he saw it in his mind.

Granted his was improving slightly, so in a few small aspects it could be considered a win. Now there could be one or two windows that were not blocked out in a room and every once in a while on a really good day he could drive when it was dark, the only criteria for that being he couldn’t get out of his car until he was back in the tower or compound garage. It was miniscule, but it was progress nonetheless and he was told to be proud of his progress even if it was small. Either way, even though he was proud of his little bit of progress, he was still terrified that Peter would ask about it. He did not want to explain it because explaining meant reliving what had happened and it wasn’t like he could just brush it off as nothing. Or could he? Well probably not because Peter was smart and-

“Mr. Stark, did you hear my question?” Peter asked tapping Tony on the arm causing him to jump slighting and pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“No, sorry kiddo, what did you say?” Tony questioned, mentally cursing at himself for going so far into his head that he missed something Peter said.

“I asked if you knew about the meteor shower tonight.”

Tony froze and forced himself to take a deep breath and hoped that Peter didn’t notice the reaction. He had stopped paying attention to any sort of space event years ago. In the past he kept up with the events because he loved to find the best spot to watch them all, but now- oh right Peter.

“No.” Tony answered, unsure of how long he was silent for and hoped it wasn’t too long. “I don’t keep up with those. Why?”

“Well I figured the roof of the compound would be a good place to watch it and I was wondering if we could maybe do that instead of watching a movie tonight?”

“I-” Tony started, but quickly cut himself off unsure of what he was even going to say. Of course he never wanted to say no to Peter, especially since the kid looked and sounded excited about this, how could Tony take that away from him? But at the same time, the amount of panic that crept up into Tony was overwhelming. He could probably say that Peter was welcome to go up to the roof by himself, or he could possibly ask if he wanted Pepper to go up with him, but Peter had specifically asked Tony if they could watch it together.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Peter quickly added most likely picking up on Tony’s nervous silence and now that he was attempting to focus on what was going on inside his body, probably the tense body language as well.

“N-no, it’s okay we can do that if you want.” Tony forced himself to say, trying his best to suppress the pure terror that was forming a pit in his stomach. He didn’t want to disappoint Peter, and he had a feeling that if he said no, not only would he have to explain why, but Peter would look like a kicked puppy and that was too sad to look at.

“Really?” Peter squeaked, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Yeah. When does it start?”

If he knew when it was, then at least he could try to mentally prepare himself before they went up and maybe then he wouldn’t have a panic attack while they were on the roof, only after the fact.

“In about two hours I think.” Peter said after a quick glance at his watch.

Alright two hours. Tony could do two hours. That gave him time to run through many scenarios in his head, which probably wasn’t a good thing to do, but he would do that, and it would give him time to change into clothes that he knew would feel less suffocating during an attack and it just gave him time to prepare, but it also gave him time to overthink.

“Okay.” Tony replied with a nod, already running through different scenarios in his head. “Do you wanna go ahead and order dinner so we can eat before we head up?”

Peter nodded and somewhere distant Tony heard himself ask FRIDAY to order their usual Friday night dinner, shawarma’s and fries, which oh what a coincidence the first meal he had after the wormhole was the last meal he would have before forcing himself to look at the stars. Honestly the fact the still ate shawarma considering it’s association with that traumatic event was a bit odd, but a thing in his brain that Tony would not question because he did enjoy shawarma nights with Peter.

Time moved with a blur. Tony remembers going through the motions but not much else. He knows he and Peter ate and he knows he changed his clothes and grabbed his weighted blanket that he held tightly around his body hoping that the weight of the blanket would keep him grounded. And somehow through all of the blur he ended up on the roof of the compound with Peter and a stack of blankets. Said kid was laying down on a blanket with his head resting on a makeshift pillow made of a different blanket and Tony — well Tony was sitting criss cross next to Peter, his blank eyes staring forward in an attempt to keep the sky out of his view, with a weighted blanket wrapped around him not doing much to keep him grounded.

Maybe it was better that he was outside with Peter rather than alone or with someone else, because he was no way in hell comfortable enough to have a full blown panic attack in front of the kid — hence the more internalized panic attack.

The longer they sat outside the more anxious Tony became. With some situations it was the opposite, he would calm down and become more comfortable with the situation the longer he was in it, but for this situation, Tony was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. At some point he had started rocking himself back and forth after pulling his knees to his chest and continued to force himself to take slow and deep calculated breaths. He wasn’t sure how long he continued to do this before he ducked his head against his chest and rested his forehead on his knees while squeezing his eyes shut. Even having the smallest bit of the sky in his view was too much now.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand on the upper part of his arm that he froze in place only now remembering that he wasn’t alone, Peter was outside with him, and Peter had just watched him have a sort of panic attack and that wasn’t good because Peter didn’t need to deal with his crap because Peter already had his own crap he didn’t need Tony’s piled onto it and god it was just so selfish of Tony to even have a panic attack in front of Peter when he knew- he knows that Peter has his own sometimes and Tony panicking could possibly trigger Peter then both of them would be panicking and that's even worse and-

“Mr. Stark are you okay?” Peter asked.

Tony wasn’t sure if he could hear hesitance in Peter’s voice or if it was something else which meant Peter was probably scared to ask Tony this and Tony never wanted him to be scared of asking him things which Tony had made very clear but-

“Mr. Stark.” Peter said again and this time Tony forced himself to focus on the weight of Peter’s hand.

Tony nodded to answer Peter’s question and hoped the kid would just let it go.

“Do you need to go inside?”

Tony shook his head. He would stay outside because Peter wanted to stay outside, it would be selfish of him to go inside and either leave Peter out here alone or force him to come inside with Tony.

“Are you sure?” Peter questioned and Tony nodded his head to confirm that he was fine. “What do you need me to do then?”

At this, Tony shrugged. He wasn’t sure what Peter could do to possibly help him. Sure it did feel a bit safer with Peter out here with him, and this was probably the longest he had stayed outside in the dark since New York, so that was a win. But aside from Peter just being out here he wasn’t sure what he needed that didn’t involve going inside, and not knowing what he needed didn’t help the situation.

There was a silence for a few moments where Tony could only hear Peter’s soft breaths and his own thoughts, but it was the calmest— no the lightest he’s felt since being outside. He wasn’t calm by any stretch, but it did feel like some sort of weight within him was lifted somehow.

“Do you know any constellations?” Peter asked, breaking the silence.

Tony knew all the constellations that could be seen from New York by heart because of the number of times he had traveled the state with his parents. So he pointed above himself drawing a familiar pattern he knew by heart and knew exactly where it would be in the sky this time of year, April specifically.

“Ursa Minor.” Tony whispered. “Commonly the Little Dipper or Little Bear.”

“Is there a story behind Ursa Minor?” Peter asked.

Though Tony was unsure if Peter was asking because he was genuinely curious or if he just wanted Tony to keep talking, Tony told the short version of the story that he knew. “Ursa Minor is Arcas, the son of Zeus and Callisto also known as Ursa Major.” Tony paused and shifted his hand to the left and traced out another pattern of stars that made up Ursa Major. “Because of Zeus’ jealous wife Hera, Arcas and Callisto were changed into bears and placed in the sky by Zeus in order to be protected from Hera.”

When Tony finished the story he made himself look up at the sky to allow the true shapes of the constellations that his brain and eyes supplied for him after years of staring at them. For some reason looking up and tracing out the shapes was almost comforting, it wasn’t as terrifying as it had been only minutes before or how it had been the past 4 or so years.

“Are there any others you can see right now?”

Tony moved his point to the left again and traced out another set of stars. “That’s Leo, like the lion.”

Before Peter could ask Tony started telling the story of Leo and how he came to be in the sky. After originating on the moon, the lion could not be killed by weapons and terrorized the city of Nemea in ancient Greece. Hercules then killed the lion as one of his twelve labors and Zeus returned Leo to space by placing his image among the stars.

The night continued like this, Tony pointing out all the constellations he knew and telling the story that went with it. And slowly Tony did feel the panic and anxiety leave his body as he told Peter these stories that he had told himself so many times before. Every so often they would see a shooting star and every time Tony wished he could thank Peter for being here with him and helping him.

Space was a quiet starry place that Tony used to love until he found fear in it. But now space was slowly becoming safe again and Tony was finding his love for it again all because Peter wanted to see a meteor shower. Here with Peter up on the roof, Tony had relaxed a little and had pulled his kid close to his side while telling him story upon story of different constellations because here with Peter; he was safe.

#Tony Stark #Peter Parker #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #do not tag as ship #not st*rker #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #ao3

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enochianribs · 3 years

Photo

until it no longer hurts. (cabin/wing fic). read it here, or under the cut.

(accompanying playlist / aesthetic board (thanks @disableddean)

CHAPTER 3. (formatting is lost via tumblr text post fyi)

ch.1 / ch.2

As he lays there, unconscious to the world, and all those things that go bump in the night, his life sorts itself cleanly into two: before and after— not for the first time.

In fact, there were several times before this. There was before the fire, before the loss of his mother, before John started hunting, before Jess died, before Sammy went to rehab, before Dean picked up that knife.

Before before before.

The question has hung in front of him for quite some time now.

What happens after?

What happens to him, when all is said and done?

The bed is warm and soft and he sinks into it. A hand presses against his chest, pins him down and muscle memory tells him to go for the knife, fingers flexing outward and then curling in, his nails catching on the sheet.

This is safe.

Here in this moment, no one can touch him. The tiny flowers on the sheets molt before his eyes, little petals rising out of the fabric and blooming. They're feather light against his bare skin, and the weight of his body is crushing them. He makes a noise of upset, and a hand comes down to press a finger to his mouth, hushing him gently.

<It's okay.>

Slowly, he wakes. The warmth from the finger still lingers against his lips, but the bed is hard where his face presses against it, eyelashes fluttering, his eyes open just a crack. The wood of the table greets him, and the sunlight is just now poking through the blinds once again, casting the same lines across the pine knots, along the curves of his outstretched forearm and across where his head faces towards the sun.

"It's okay." He murmurs, and for an incredibly brief moment he is perplexed by why the words slip from between his lips, until one of his knuckles grazes bare skin.

His evening comes back.

Before.

Before Wings.

Slowly, Dean sits upright, suddenly entirely aware of the being lying on his table, and his heart beats in his mouth and his fingers catch on something, pulling him even further from the comfort and haze of his dream. He ducks his head in, looking down at where his hand is stuck. His fingers are still woven between Wings', his own a shade lighter.

Dean sits very still.

He’s afraid to make a sound and wake him up, so he stays there for a moment, assessing the situation he’s willingly walked himself into.

The stranger’s chest rises and lowers every few seconds, almost imperceptibly so. The gauze is brown from oxidized blood, but it doesn't appear to have been soaked through in the night, proving Dean's improvised medic work satisfactory. The stitches held.

Huh, Dean thinks. He should be thankful for the live or die experiences thrust upon him by his father's recklessness.

Half the time, Dean's afraid he took pages out of John's book.

And that would be okay. Well, it wouldn’t— but he— he could cope with that. He could work through it. He’s beginning to understand that even as the world ended, it would still spin, and day would come and the night would consume and he’d be okay.

It’s unspeakably comforting, the feeling of fingers tucked between his own, the way Dean’s calloused palm presses against another, like a bond is forming quietly between a man waking from his dream and another still ensnared.

“It’s okay.” Dean says one more time, the words an impulse.

Wings stirs, his upper lip twitching a hairsbreadth, and Dean braces for the cry of pain that always comes with waking, even if it’s not aloud. Anticipating the event horizon of his world ending with Wings consciousness, Dean grabs a glass of water, and the bottle of alcohol, and a rag before coming to stand next to his head, his thighs pressed against the edge of the table.

He stares down at him, and his head feels clearer than it did last night. The stranger’s hair is unruly, unkempt, and Dean can’t tell how long it’s been like that— how long this winged man has been living in the forest. The locks are nearly as dark as his wings, but the sunlight exposes their truthful deep brown color. It’s tangled here and there, and Dean has to try and restrain himself from carding his fingers through it to work out the knots. A residual caretaking instinct he has had yet no luck fighting.

When they were kids, Sammy always refused to brush his hair, and it was never really a problem when it was just him and Sam. But school begged a shred of presentability from the two, lest child services were called, so he kept up Sam’s appearance for him. Dean kept them fed, schooled, he took care of them both, though Sam always came first.

Should have always come first.

Now Dean’s here with someone else’s blood under his fingernails, and there’s a hunter on the loose who probably has it out for them both. And he’s not even a real hunter. He's just some guy with a gun and a penchant for killing things.

Dean’s officially in over his head.

Dark smudges look like they’ve been pressed underneath his eyes with two uncaring thumbs, and a distinct line of his cheekbones drags in a swoop across either side of his face. His lips are full but chapped and Dean wonders why he cares, but the urge to dab a spot of lotion against them nearly overpowers him.

He’s trying hard to ignore the wings.

There’s finding a human man and then there is finding a man with wings, real wings, with muscle and tendons and quivering feathers, and yep there it is, that edge of panic.

The word hangs over his head but Dean refuses to use it. His mother’s bedtime stories aren’t real.

Demons are. He knows that now, though they are few and far between. But the a-- no.

Dean shakes his head.

There's never been any proof.

He rocks his weight from foot to foot, debating his best course of action. Minutes pass, but the man doesn’t stir again, so finally Dean sucks it up and takes his hand and pats it against his cheek, gently. His skin feels rough against the surprising softness, even the barest hint of stubble is nearly feather soft.

He comes to sit on the edge of the table.

“Hey.” He murmurs, uselessly. “Wake up?”

Please wake up.

Wings’ head moves, only slightly, pressing against his hand. Dean freezes like a deer in headlights, caught touching when he should have only been looking. Heat crawls up his cheeks and his stomach flips.

“Fucking hell, Dean.” He mutters, pulling his hand away and he cocks his head, unsure if he really heard a quiet, sad noise leave the man still lying seemingly unconscious on his table.

A warm, steady hand snakes out and grabs his wrist. Dean swallows his own quiet noise. It takes everything to look up again, scared of what he’s going to see.

When they lock eyes that fear melts.

Wings flexing underneath his back, extending as far as they can go until the longest feathers graze the floor and the farthest tip brushes the wall near the dining table, the stranger looks up at him with clear eyes. His lips move rapidly, as he soundlessly repeats something over and over. One side of his face clenches up in pain as he tries to sit up.

Dust particles drift from the rafters like nothing is amiss, little bokehs proving that what Dean sees is real. He still doesn’t believe it.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he keeps his voice low, holding his breath and extending his hands, palms out, as a friendly act. “I’m not— I’m not gonna hurt you, just, you gotta let me get—”

Before Dean’s fingers even lift the bandaging to inspect the damage, there’s a forearm against his throat, and he’s pinned against the table by strong arms and they form an iron cage to hold him there. Two strong legs straddle him. Whatever he was going to say dies in his throat.

“Wings—”

The stranger barks something out, the syllables harsh and completely foreign, staring down at Dean with a combustion-prone concoction of fear, confusion and leftover adrenaline mixing behind the blue.

“Please I—”

The arm presses against his windpipe even harder, and Dean meets the icy stare. Wings tilts his head, and his eyes narrow, his lips hanging open slightly, like he wants to say something.

“I’m trying to help you.”

The pressure lessens a fraction, and Dean takes the opportunity to whip his arm up, hand sliding between him and Wings’ own, and he pushes him away and back a short inch, but it’s enough to throw the smaller man. Finally free, his throat drags in a breath but he doesn’t plan on giving wings another opening, so he brings his knee up from under the other man, using it as a brace to prevent him from overpowering him again.

He says the first thing that flies through his pea-brain. “Who are you?” Lord help him, he may just be the stupidest man alive. “What do I call you?” Asking him to introduce himself seems like the dumbest possible direction for the scene playing out.

With the quilt long gone, the stranger is fully indecent again, and Dean’s trying very hard to ignore it, because it’s the icing on the unreal cake. Fire creeps up his cheeks regardless and Dean squirms.

A black arm brings itself up and around Wing’s body curling as though it was a protective stance. It reminds him of a knight with a shield. Everything else about his posture screams prey animal, and Dean can tell when the ghost of a fight is reverberating through someone’s muscle memory.

What the fuck did Campbell do to him?

To top it all off, Dean realizes he did a terrible job of cleaning the blood away from his mouth. The blue takes over his eyes as his pupil’s become pinpricks of something primal and it doubles with the dried blood smeared down the hollow of his throat.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice is low and shaking and he feels just like he did when he spent all those years helpless, just a child yanked around. “Stay with me. C’mon.”

The wing lowers, and as it does so it catches the light, and the entire wing is made up of feathers that look just like the ones sitting on his mantle, an oil slick in sunshine. Without thinking, Dean brings his hand to his thigh and squeezes it, thumb digging into the meat of it. The touch is meant to be grounding, though he’s not sure who for.

“You know me.” He hums, in a futile effort to comfort him.

A flip must switch in the stranger’s mind, because he nods suddenly, pulling his weight off of Dean and settling down on his own legs, his wings larger than life, spread out in the room.

“Dean.” He says, and it sounds reverent, his voice rough, the syllable catching in his throat. He doesn’t seem to notice, but fresh scarlet blooms across the bandage. “Dean.”

Dean stays as still as a statue and he can’t recall ever saying his name, though that’s usually how it goes for most anything. Words pour out of his mouth ceaselessly, and he��s always embarrassing himself, dumping his scattered thoughts on poor unsuspecting souls: hey, did you know that Led Zeppelin were tolkien fans? Simply because he’d seen someone had walked past wearing a Tree of Gondor shirt.

But Dean doesn’t remember saying his own name. His fathers harsh words rattle around inside his mind: kill first, figure out what it is later.

This thought has to wait, though, because the bullet wound seems to have caught up to him, and Wings slumps forward, his entire body going limp in Dean’s arms, his wings thumping down against the table. Dean drags his hands up his back, until his fingers are buried in the downy feathers that molt into his shoulder blades. Dean can’t be certain, but he feels warmer than last night, like he’d been sleeping next to a fire.

Fuck, fuck fuck.

Dean has no idea how to treat an infection, not really. He can try and prevent one from happening, sure— he’s done that what feels like hundreds of times. But if the infection takes hold it’s out of his hands and he’s going to be left with a dead winged man on his table, or a possibly alive winged man forced into the spotlight.

Dean presses his fist to his mouth, and his body feels like a bow-string pulled too taut, threatening to snap. There’s no one who can help, and there’s no one he trusts.

Dean sits there for nearly thirty minutes, ignoring where his friend’s blood has stained his shirt. The cabin smells like iron, and like feathers, which he hadn’t realized was a distinct scent until it filled up the room. His phone sits in his hands.

The texture of the rug on the floor blurs with the sound of the ragged breathing next to him.

His phone rings.

His fingertips burn where they touched his warm, soon to be cold thigh.

It rings again.

“Hey.” Dean expects Sam’s voice on the other end, and blinks, confused when he’s greeted with a familiar short drawl that he can’t immediately place.

“Missouri says he’s gonna be fine, kid.”

The voice belongs to Pamela.

“Who?” Dean stands up abruptly. Is she outside?

“Your birdman.”

Dean doesn’t acknowledge the remark. “Who?”

Once again, Dean is privy to a conversation happening away from the phone. It sounds like another woman talking, and she sounds annoyed.

“Oh. Missouri. The ol’ wife.”

“Wife?” He runs a quick calculation in his head and then raises his eyebrows. That tracks.

“Dean Winchester, are you listening to me.”

Uh, no?

“Yeah, yeah okay. I heard you. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Whatever she thinks she knows, she better not.

Something that sounds, in a honey sweet and dainty voice, like ‘Give it here’ comes from the other end and then she’s speaking to him directly.

“Dean Winchester?” She asks.

“Speaking.”

“Mmkay, good. You better listen up, sweetheart because he’s gonna be fine, but I’m still sending Pam your way. She was a nurse before she retired early, so whatever is wrong with the wound, she should be able to help.”

For once, Dean is rendered speechless, and utterly, utterly confused.

“You still there?”

“Yeah.” Dean croaks. “Yeah, I’m still here.” He looks over at where Wings is laying. His skin should look sunkissed, but instead beads of sweat form along his tendons, and they’re pulled tight, his body tense even if he’s out cold. “How do you know about him?”

“Pamela and I… we share some unique gifts. But that shouldn’t concern you right now. You’ve got a fallen angel dying in your living room. She’ll be there in about fifteen minutes, alright?” She doesn’t wait for his response. “Go dig up some of Rufus’ old stash. The good stuff.”

“Why?” He feels deeply out of the loop.

“To calm your nerves. I can feel them from here. Alright now, I’m gonna hang up. Sit tight until she gets there.”

▵▿▵

Knuckles rap against the door, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. From the time it took him to hang up to Pamela showing up at his door it had started to rain again. This time the storm was black, and he had a feeling there would be no sunset, just the dimming of the sky until the charcoal was pitch. He flips the porchlight on as he opens the door.

Pamela’s black hair is caught under the strap of an army green duffel bag, and the rain drips down her forehead and off her chin, smearing her smokey eye shadow slightly. Standing next to her is a woman Dean hasn’t met yet. She stands tall, and if there is a height difference between her and Pamela, he can’t tell. Her ringlets are just as soaked as her wife's and her dark eyes catch the yellow of the porch light. Inexplicably, they're warm, and Dean lends himself to trusting them.

“The psychic forgot her umbrella, huh?” Dean asks, stepping aside to let them in.

Missouri makes a face.

“I was gonna say you’re the prettiest thing in these hills but…” Whatever she was going to say, dies as she takes in the sight strewn across the dining table.

Pamela sets her duffle bag down in one of the seats pulled away from the table and then her arm goes limp as she stands there. Missouri stops by her side, the fingers of her hand trailing her arm until it rests stationary by Pamela’s, their pinkies intertwining.

“Seeing and believing are truly two different things.” Missouri sounds almost reverent.

“Yeah.” Dean breathes, and, actually, he gets that. “Earlier, on the phone you called him a…”

“An angel.”

There are a million questions he could ask but he settles on one. “How do you know?”

Pamela tears her gaze away for just a moment, to look over her shoulder at Dean. “That’s a long story for another night. Right now, we have an angel to save. You look terrible, by the way.”

“Mmhm. Dead on your feet. There’s nothing you can do to help right now. We’ll take care of your angel.”

“Have you eaten anything since you found him?” Pam asks. The duffle bag zipper slices through the ambient silence between words, and she rifles through it for a solid minute before she finally produces a pair of tweezers and what looks to be military grade cotton balls with a pleased grin.

His stomach makes a pathetic noise in response, however instead of making a move to eat something, he's standing there staring validly, wondering why these two women who live in the middle of nowhere are completely calm about Mr. Comatose being heaven sent.

It’s fairly obvious from the way their backs are turned to him now, heads leaning in close until they're almost touching so they can whisper in confidence, that he isn’t going to get any answers tonight.

The exhaustion hits him like a tidal wave, breezing through his muscles, seeping straight into his bones and burrowing in his marrow. Pamela seems to have some left over hospital grade drugs in her nursing kit, and his new friend is completely subdued under the quiet blanket of sleep.

“Dean.” He tears his gaze away from the middle distance, where it had gotten comfortable to see Pamela watching him, her eyes narrow with concern. “I don’t want to have to take care of you next. Eat something and get some rest. You’ve done enough. We’ll be out of your hair once we’re done.”

Dean shouldn’t trust them. But he does. He doesn’t have any other choice. Shuffling around, he shows Missouri the outlets, where Rufus’s first aid-kit (nearly an end-of-days cold war quantity) stash is shoved into the top three shelves of one of the three storage closets. Missouri promises to lock up and leave the key under the worn-through doormat, and Dean nods sleepily.

Missouri pats his cheek, and for the briefest of moments, Dean misses home. He misses Sammy. His life had never been simple or easy or even nice, but at least it had been predictable.

“He’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

▵▿▵

When he wakes, he’s in his bed and sleep-drunk, and there’s an empty space to his side, a starless void that he’d never been able to fill. In his living room lies the moon, and the stars, and the hopeful sliver of himself wonders if even the sun can be found there as well. The cabin is peaceful, a comforting fog of quiet wrapping him up. Sleep drags him under again, and he goes willingly.

#uinlh #cabin fic #*#mine

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samwritesforyou · 3 years

Text

can the sinner get a happy ending?

Fandom: Code Geass

Summary: nunnally decides to clear lelouch’s name and lelouch - conveniently - around that time decides to visit his sister in disguise, because he just misses her so much. but what happens when he learns that people for some reason can’t remember him as a bloody emperor?

A/N: this fic is turning out to be longer than 15k already, so i will post only one part here, as of.. a “prologue”, or just a feel for you to what this story might bring with it. the rest i will upload on ao3! im really proud of this work :D enjoy!

also... im finally coming back to my favourite formatting of this “description” part for the fics, finally :D its been a mess last four fics, sorry! also sorry to everyone who doest follow me for code geass content, i will write different things too, dont worry!

Warnings: mention of a panic attack, no serious proof-reading

Wordcount: 4k (Prologue)

“Nunnally, I do not agree with this,” Suzaku said firmly, looking the empress straight in the eye, brows furrowed together.

“Suzaku-kun, I understand why you’re upset, but this will not harm the people in any capacity. I do this for my brother,” she stated just as strongly, not daring to shift her gaze elsewhere from his emerald pearls.

“But that doesn’t matter, using this power is just wrong!” he was almost yelling now, clutching his hand in the fist.

Whenever someone was talking about geass or even thought about using it, he always had severe reaction to that topic, probably due to all the trauma and suffering that it caused.

Kururugi has never had a fight with Nunnally yet, they had a calm relationship full of mutual love and trust. Despite her being Lelouch’s sister, she was never like him in any sense. And Suzaku feared the day once he’ll start to see the similarities. Despite loving his friend beyond any measure, his actions and thinking was oftentimes just.. extreme, to say the least. Extreme and dangerous, he was never supposed to gain the power he got ahold of. That’s what was going through Japanese’s mind as they were arguing with Nunnally.

She looked at him wide eyed and he could almost be able to see how the wall of trust they’d built together cracked ever so lightly, as the young empress lowered her gaze and sighed.

“Zero, this is an order. Tell Lloyd to have it ready by tomorrow,” there was such unfamiliar coldness in her tone that it made Suzaku stop in his tracks as she turned around in the wheelchair and started to drive away from him.

It was unfamiliar from her, yet.. so familiar from Lelouch.

There was hardly a day when he didn’t think of him. Either cursing him or praying to him to come back.

He didn’t wear a mask right now, because they were talking in the empress’ private rooms where no servants had access to, so he could be himself around here, yet.. yet she addressed him as Zero.

Suzaku’s green eyes shifted slowly, now looking at his feet.

He was clothed in the purple costume with gold lines, purple gloves and a white puff scarf tucked into the shirt. He hated it. He hated all of it. Every single fibre.

He fell to his knees, breath catching in his throat and he felt the familiar dizziness coming into motion.

He was having a panic attack.

It wasn’t anything new to him and Suzaku found out that the best way to fight it is to let it flow. Let it consume him and shiver uncontrollably, salty tears falling from his eyes onto the red carpet as he bowed his head to the floor.

He was alone possibly in the whole floor so there would be no one watching. No one acknowledging how much pain this human being has to endure, when his only wish is to die.. and when he can’t possibly even do that.

When he finally felt the convulsions stop and dizziness drifted away he sat up on the ground, lifting a hand to his face with a sigh that echoed through the richly decorated halls.

“What a fucking day,” man whispered to himself, slowly getting up and taking the mask of Zero, putting it on, feeling the material close surely around his head so no one could possible guess his true identity anymore.

The stare that nobody could see was deprived of any emotion. Now he was just a faceless person with a mission from the empress.

He went straight to Lloyd’s engineering wing, passing the painting of himself in the white suit as the pilot of the Lancelot, a piece of black cloth at the side of the golden frame, meaning that he’s still being mourned by the genius technician.

“Nunnally vi Britannia demands for the device to be ready by tomorrow,” he said sternly, never adjusting his cape as Lelouch always did - a waste of time and a touch that’s soaked with pretentiousness.

“Of course, Zero, your wish is my command! It’s almost ready anyways,” engineer answered, sitting alone by the table where he continued to work on some cables and connections to various pieces of metal.

He was offered to gain at least a dozen of good workers that could help him in his experiments but earl declined, saying that there’s nothing much to invent without his beautiful pilot and no grandiose war going on between Britannia and Japan anymore.

Suzaku just curtly nodded at that, staying watching him for a moment longer than necessary, just wishing he could reveal to him who he really is and that his pilot is still alive and well and could try some of his new knightmares if he ever makes some.

“Lloyd-san, it’s break time!” suddenly rung a high pitched voice through the empty working space as Cecile came closer to both of them with a little tray rattling with silverware and some food on the surface.

“Oh, Zero, I didn’t notice you come in,” she said sheepishly and smiled, pulling the tray towards him a little in an offering.

“Don’t you want to stay and have lunch with us?” she asked in her sweet voice, the one she uses when she wants to make the good impression, but Suzaku just sighed.

These two were the only people who didn’t really judge him. Even when they didn’t know his true identity, it almost seemed like they were friends like they were before. He liked spending time here, but possibly couldn’t keep them company in eating, since.. he couldn’t really take off his helmet.

“Cecile-san, you know that I mustn’t reveal my identity, hence I can’t keep you company at lunch. Only if I sat by the table without taking a single bite,” he said, a soft smile finally breaking to his lips, making the corners of his mouth go up just a little bit.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, finally realising why this offer wouldn’t work out, but then she said “oh” again and quickly made a beeline towards the main doors, locking them.

“But what if! I locked the main entrance so nobody could come in while we’re eating,” she started enthusiastically and then made another small run towards the light switch, looking with hope at her boss and then the masked man, “and we would also eat in pitch darkness, so you could finally enjoy something with acquaintances, like a normal person?” she smiled and then blinked comically, correcting herself and laughing nervously, “I’m not saying that you’re not normal, of course, I’m just. I realise that it must be hard to be wearing a mask all the time, mustn’t it?” she finished carefully, biting her lower lip.

“Cecile-kun, you’re making Zero intrigued, I think!” Lloyd barked a loud laugh, looking over at his ex-subordinate, “What do you say, Zero? I promise you no peeking!” he teased and got closer to him, wiggling his brows.

Suzaku couldn’t help himself but felt his smile growing wider at that suggestion. There really was no risk, right?

Did Cecile want to try it for a while now? Because it seems like a thought of plan, after all.

*If I keep shielding myself from others I might as well go insane sooner or later.. What’s the harm in one, pitch black lunch, right?..*

Suzaku thought to himself and then nodded.

“Okay, why not?” he said, making Cecile excitedly jump in the air and Lloyd lean deeper into his chair with a pleased hum.

“Alright! On the count of three I’ll turn off the lights and then.. hopefully make it to you guys without any problem!” she explained and on the count of three she really turned off the lights.

Suzaku wasn’t rushing in taking off his helmet, at first waiting for Cecile to make it safely to their little table. It.. was really dark.

“Cecile-san, please be careful,” he said, now being kind of nervous for his friend.

“I’m okayyy!” in the end of the sentence she yelped, because her outstretched arm collided with Zero’s mask, making a low thud, “I.. suppose I made it to the table, right?” she laughed and Suzaku gave out a chuckle as well, carefully putting her hand aside, so she could find the chair to sit on in this ridiculous darkness.

“Okay, so.. I’ll just warn you that I won’t be speaking while we’re eating, because I have a voice modifier inside that distorts my original voice,” Kururugi explained carefully, waiting for their reactions.

“Ahhh, so you can’t be tracked even by voice recognition, that’s very smart!” mused Lloyd, already, what it seemed, with a mouthful of food, “Or you’re someone who we know, so you don’t want to be recognised! But that’s less probable than the first point,” he concluded to himself, now apparently drinking something.

“I won’t comment on that, Lloyd-san,” Suzaku said and then sighed, “Itadakimasu.”

And with that, the only sound in the room despite the munching on the food was the noise of Zero’s mask unzipping and being put near him on the ground.

Japanese inhaled sharply, filling his chest with some fresh air, even though they were inside.

He finally scratched his nose and then rubbed his eyes, using all of the time he has without a mask. Being without it in public was a really rare occasion, so he felt ecstatic, thinking that.. maybe one day his life might get better.

Once he took a big bite of some veggie balls that were on the plate in front of him, he already wanted to say how delicious it is, especially compared to first things she ever cooked for them, but then stopped himself, instead just gulping down the food.

He noticed that the other two were silent as well, probably honouring the fact that one of this trio cannot talk. How nice of them, truly.

During the whole process he was careful of sounds to be able to in time put a mask back on if needed, but nothing really happened. He only heard some clicking, as if someone was taking glasses on and off two times, but other than that, nothing. It was probably Lloyd messing around anyways.

He sighed with relief when he finished, reluctant to put the mask back on. Despite of being in the dark for so long, his eyes didn’t adjust and he still couldn’t see anything, probably because the place was really devoid of all light at the moment.

Then he shook his head to himself, thinking that revealing his identity would be too risky at the current situation, so he put the mack back on, making a clicking sound in the dark.

“I’ll turn the light back on,” Suzaku said and luckily didn’t collide with anything on his way there.

Once the light was back on, the trio grunted in unison, their eyes certainly not being able to absorb this all at once.

He didn’t sit back down to the portable table but just stood next to it, looking at Cecile.

“Thank you for the meal, it was very delicious,” he said, smiling at her.

“I’m glad it was,” when she lifted her dark blue eyes at him, it looked like she’s been crying, so he got instantly worried.

“Are you okay?!” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I am, thank you, it’s just the sudden light,” she laughed weakly in response, placing her gentle palm on top of his hand, squeezing a little.

Suzaku then pulled away and nodded, still with a warm aftertaste of being treated like an actual friend or an acquaintance.

“I’ll get going then. See you tomorrow, Lloyd-san,” Zero turned away on his heels and made his way from the engineering lab.

“Cecile-kun, the tears weren’t from the lighting, were they?” once they were alone, Lloyd looked at her with a pleased grin, swiftly putting his hand into her pocket and taking night vision glasses out of there, waving them in the air in front of her, “Who is he?”

“I’m sorry, Lloyd-san, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” she said with a warm smile, a single tear falling down her cheek, “but he is a good person. We can definitely trust him.”

Life went at significantly slower pace in the countryside than in the city. Nobody was busy.. there actually was *nobody*. Only him and C.C.

The perfect solitude life for two sinners who wanted to make their wishes come true.

Lelouch was just in the middle of harvesting some plants from their little farm, taking breaks every so often because his physique didn’t improve even in conditions like this.

The strew hat oh his head protected him from the angry sun that was shining though the eternity of summer in these lands.

“C.C., can you please get me a container for these? I think it’s better to grow them inside, they’re dying out there on all this heat,” ex-emperor barged into their house with two plants in his hands, taken out of the ground with the roots, waiting for help from the green haired companion he had by his side.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she put away the knitting equipment and lowered her bare legs from the table she was resting on, getting up to her feet, making a beeline for the back room, where the junk of all sorts was stored. For situations like this.

She looked around the whole room, noticing old Zero suit just hanging by the wall, some markers and scissors peeking out of the pockets. She sighed and lowered her olive eyes, finally finding what her partner has asked her for.

With two brown-ish pots in hands she went back and put them on the floor in from of the skinny man, returning to the back room once again to get some fresh soil for the poor plants.

Then she came back for the second time, plopping next to the bag with terra, tearing it open and pouring the soil into the pots.

Lelouch was looking at her this whole time, as if exploring every millimetre of her pale skin. He did it often now. Paying more attention to the details and that made him even the better deduction master than he’s been before.

Sherlock Holmes was onto something, truly.

He could now finally put the plants into their new home now, patting the ground with his elegant fingers, making sure they’re steady in it.

Then he placed them next to the dining table and wanted to go out again.

“Lelouch,” simply said C.C., taking her knitting needles in hands alongside the purple yarn which for the most part was being dragged behind her as she followed him outside.

“Hm?” was the only answer she got, as Lelouch continued taking care of the garden, completely immersed in the activity.

Or maybe his mind was thousand miles away..

“I miss you,” she stated, still knitting, kind of furiously, even though her face was unchanging.

“What? I’m right here,” he chuckled, his hands firmly in the ground, making sure that the plants have enough space to grow and expand.

“No. The old you, the one who was always in motion, who didn’t let life stop him, the one who made me feel like life is a game worth winning,” she said, her hands slowing down in the tempo of her activity, “I feel like you’re losing yourself too.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment after that, working like some gardener, brows furrowed together.

“But we won, C.C. This might not be the life that you nor I want to live, but that’s a small price to pay for the world to stay in peace, don’t you think?” he finally met her eyes, lifting his amethysts from the greenery.

“What about Nunnally? Don’t you wanna see her?” there was no hesitation in her voice as the man got up from his knees and pointed a finger at her in a warning manner.

“I told you to never say her name aloud..” he whispered, no signs of anger on his face, only sadness pooling in his dark, beautiful eyes.

“So you just want to forget her? Or what? What’s your plan?” she stood on her tiptoes now to get closer to his face, talking in the same semi-whispering way, not willing to step down.

This kind of rivalry was the thing that kept these two going in the most dire times when they just wanted to fuck it all and return to the old swing of things.

“I have no plan,” said Lelouch so closely to her lips that at some point of his phrase they touched and he then pulled away, making his way back to the house.

“Hm. What a sore loser,” she mused with a smile on her face, following him and plopping herself on the couch, knitting away.

For the rest of the day they didn’t exchange a single word.

Suzaku was dreading today. The day started already badly from the beginning.

He woke up with a headache and outside was pouring rain, attacking large windows in his private rooms, sound echoing through the space that lacked furniture.

Despite having amazing athletic skills, the curly haired boy was still very skinny for his height and his depression often made him feel like he doesn’t even need or deserve to eat anything.

He sat on the bed, white shirt loose on his shoulders, shuddering to himself.

It was so dark. And lonely. Everyday was the same. Lonely, lonely, lonely. Alone. Echo drifting through the void of his existence, springing off the rich, gold decorated walls which mean absolutely nothing to him.

He hated to reside in the royal palace but he would hate even more to be somewhere alone.

Here he at least has Nunnally... someone who knows completely and unconditionally who he is.

His first plan of action each morning is to wake her up, let her dress and then go together to the dining hall and have breakfast. Only after that they would proceed to go on official side of the business.

When he came to her room and saw an empty bed his heart sunk uncomfortably fast and Kururugi rushed to it, seeing a note neatly folded on the sheets.

*I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand, but I will be in my office earlier today. Have something to eat and then bring me the finalised Product. We’ll hold the ceremony in the evening.”

It said and he slowly slid his fingers over the letters, face growing grim.

The product.. she meant the geass button. His stomach curled up and he started to feel nauseous.

If any doctor would see Suzaku right now, they would probably tell him to take a vacation at least for a month and rest for the eternity of it.

There was no professional to stop him, though, so he just stepped hard on all of his emotions, knitting his brows together, putting the Zero mask on.

He marched from the private empress wing and saw quite a lot of commotion, probably because of the speech that Nunally will be giving later.

A lot of people started coming up to him, saying “Zero please do this and that” and Kururugi just waved them all away, for once without any capacity left to feel guilty that he can’t help with preparations.

Soon enough young man found himself in the technician part of the palace where everything was more silent. Way easier to bear the silence here than in his room, he noticed.

“Ah, Zero, welcome!” mused Lloyd, greeting his with open arms, “Everything is ready! Still don’t understand why would the empress need such a device that never brought nothing good but I guess it is not my business to ask, am I right?” he smirked and looked at the masked person, hands on hips.

“It indeed isn’t,” said Suzaku in the low tone, just being fed up with this day. He’d much rather take off his mask and tell the whole world that his death was a lie instead of even touching the device that can inflict such a power. Power that he despises.

But he can’t do that. He can’t do that because he is a slave. He always will be. Lelouch was right. He just lets people to spit on him over and over, in the end not changing a single thing in the grand scheme of things.

Suzaku wasn’t the greatest politician, despite his dad rooting heavily in politics, and so japanese were actually still being oppressed. He just didn’t know how to solve it. He wasn’t as great of a leader as Lelouch was, as the real Zero was.

He’s just a mere replacement that can’t even do his job right.

So he will take the geass button that Nunnally requested from his friend that doesn’t even know who he is, he will ignore Cecile-san as she comes in just seconds before he leaves and waves enthusiastically at him, he will continue in his heavy steps all the way to the palace, he will shrug off every single interviewer that wants to have a discussion with Zero, leader of a nation, he will knock on empress’ office where she is ready for the speech to give to the whole population. And he will bow down before her, getting on one knee, giving her the power he hates. She will just curtly nod at him and then put the device carefully in her lap, just out of reach of the camera. He will stand beside her as Zero, and there will be silence before the broadcast.

He is just a servant. Merely that.

“Nunnally,” he said, devoid of any emotion left, “you still won’t tell me which order are you going to give?” he was looking straight into the tv screen in front of them, as the countdown showed still two minutes left before the beginning of the stream.

“No,” she said seriously, looking at the same direction, tensing up.

“So it will work on me and I won’t even know, huh,” his tone was now softer and quieter, accepting the fact that his most loved person alive is essentially doing what he hated the most.

“No. I got that checked up, Suzaku,” in her voice could be heard a small smile, probably a sad one, as she continued “Apparently the order that my brother gave you was so powerful that you’re immune to any different type of geass,” she said with a deep sigh, “so you’ll hear it and won’t be affected. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

He couldn’t answer her anything on that because the timer was already up and the political duo went live to the millions of people that were watching, all around the globe.

The topic of the speech was supposed to be about more liberation rights for Japan, so that created a lot of so-called “hype” amongst the citizens, britannians as well as japanese. The maximum amount of people were watching and they will all obey the empress. That was the plan.

“Nunnally vi Britannia commands you,” with hearing these words Suzaku got goosebumps, his hands squeezing the handles of her wheelchair as much as he could to prevent himself from doing anything that he might regret later, “please, everyone who is watching this or hearing this, forget about the fact that the 99th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire was Lelouch vi Britannia. From now on, you will all remember him as just a person without a face, someone who wanted to rule the entire world, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Lelouch,” she said, after pressing the button.

Even a normal person could feel a literal surge of some energy coming out of the room they were in and Suzaku widened his eyes as he heard the order.

His mouth hung open as he was trying to make sense of what she just said.

Nunnally cleared Lelouch’s name.

Nunnally... cleared Lelouch’s name.

Kururugi couldn’t focus on anything that the empress proceeded to talk about after that, staring blankly at the wall and for the first time he was genuinely glad that he was wearing a mask, so that nobody could see his shocked expression.

A/N: this fic can be now found on ao3! i wont be updating it here on tumblr because that would be just too many chapters and that's just... too much work fdsjfjsf

#code geass fanfiction #code geass #suzalulu #suzalulu fanfic #suzaku kururugi #lelouch lamperouge #suzaku kururugi fanfic #lelouch lamperouge fanfic #im SO PROUD of this work i hope people will notice it

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acraftedmistake · 3 years

Text

A Person Who Has Never Played MCSM Writes A Story About MCSM Chp. 13

CHP 13 YEEEE New month new CHAPTER, thanks to everyone who has been very patient with me! <3

If you wanna read it in the Archive of our Own format, click Here!

Enjoy!

‘This is a nightmare.’ Aiden kept telling himself as he pushed past the people in the streets.

This is only a nightmare. He wasn’t rushing back home, he never spoke with Jesse, he’s not holding Olivia’s hat, Olivia’s not even here, she’s gone and he’s in bed. He’s going to wake up in a cold sweat, with the Sun in his eyes, gasping as he forgets whatever it was he was dreaming about. Just like every other nightmare he’s had.

Aiden glanced at the green aviator hat in his hand, holding onto it as if his life depended on it. He could feel bruises forming where Jesse had struck him; they’ll heal.

Aiden looked up, saw the spruce roof of his house, and sped up. He kept his eyes on the roof, not paying attention to anybody who happened to be in his way. He didn’t even pay attention to his friend, Cassie Rose, calling his name through the crowd and running towards him.

“Aiden--AIDEN.” Rose screeched to a halt and stuck her hands out in front of her, afraid she and Aiden were going to crash into each other. She ran all around town trying to hunt him down, and now that she’s finally found him, he was too consumed by his own worries to notice her.

Aiden finally tore his eyes away from the house and faced Rose, slowing down but refusing to stop.

“I messed up. I messed up.” He said shakily, rushing past the redhead. Rose followed him, practically having to jog to remain by his side. Usually she’d crack a joke about how this wasn’t fair, her legs were shorter, he should carry her, but with the way Aiden was behaving, his quickened breath and darting eyes, she knew now wasn’t the time.

“What did you do?” Rose asked. Aiden’s eyes locked with hers for a mere second, but that’s all the time she needed to see the fear.

“You’re gonna hate me.” Cassie Rose heard him say in a horrified whisper. He didn’t answer the question. Maybe he didn’t have to. She was feeling more nervous with each passing second, and she didn’t even know what he did yet.

Aiden could make out Gill and Stella’s heads poking out of the front door and felt his throat tighten. His body tensed when thinking of his friends’ potential reactions to his news. They need to know. He needs to tell them. They’ll hate him but they need to know.

The instant Aiden stepped foot into the house, Stella erupted with frantic questions. “Aiden, what happened?! What was all of THAT about? Oh, and you’re face--!”

Gill started going off, “One second you were goin’ to your room, th’next you were rushin’ outta this house without sayin’ a word.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It--” Aiden started pacing. He couldn’t stay still. He didn’t want to see his friends’ faces. He wanted to calm down. He wanted to think straight. He was still praying that he’d wake up.

Suddenly he heard footsteps racing down the staircase.

“Is everything alright?” A familiar voice asked, “We heard crashing.”

Aiden shot his head up and saw Jess and Olivia getting closer to him, Jess’ worried eyes locked onto him.

Aiden stepped back and pointed at them, “DON’T--”

His sudden shouting towards the two caught everyone off guard.

“Don’t come near me. Don’t look at me. Don’t--Don’t--!” He turned away and shoved his face into his hands. Out of all the times they had to be awake, out of all the times they decided to appear, why now? Why? He can’t look at them. He can’t. He hated glancing at them. Even if it was for a second, he hated it. He hated the memories that would flash by and fill his mind, he hated the hopeful feeling he’d get in that one second, foolishly believing they were actually okay, he hated these reminders of his past friends.

Aiden swallowed and stared at the floor, “Jesse--our Jesse--broke in.”

All talking had stopped.

“He knows Olivia’s here.”

Stella gasped, Gill’s eyes widened, Jess’ mouth hung open. No one said anything. Jess felt Olivia’s hand grab his and squeezed it.

“How did you--” Maya started but was cut off by Cassie.

“You told him?!” Cassie stepped closer to Aiden, clenching her fists.

Aiden stuck his hands out, “No--! Not directly!”

He stared at the green hat and squeezed it again, “He took Olivia’s hat, I told him she needed it back. I never said her name directly but--”

“But Jesse’s not stupid.” Maya finished. Aiden breathed in and nodded.

“Aiden, how could you?” Jess asked, slipping out of Olivia’s grasp as he stormed over to the man.

“Jess, don’t--” Before Aiden could start, Jess snapped at him.

“Don’t what? Don’t get involved in the mess you just got us in? Don’t get upset you put my friend in danger?! Don’t worry about this other Jesse--who sounds like such a wonderful person--and could be searching for Olivia as we speak?!” Jess’ mind kept switching between anger and fear. The image of Radar being carried back, beaten and sobbing, made his hands sweaty. He thought back to everyones reactions when they first met him, and how they treated him before they found out he wasn’t the other Jesse. He thought about Cavern City, and--and--What would Jesse do to Olivia? What would Jesse do to him?

“I didn’t have any other choice!” Aiden shot back.

“Yes you did!” Both Cassie Rose and Jess exclaimed, surprising each other.

Cassie continued, “Why didn’t you punch him? Or throw him, or--or knock him out, or SOMETHING? ANYTHING.”

“Because I didn’t want to make things worse.” Aiden answered through gritted teeth.

Cassie sputtered, “Aiden, I hate to be that person, but punching him would’ve made the situation SIGNIFICANTLY better than what YOU just pulled.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing with Cassie, but she’s right.” Jesse joined the red head’s side, “What about when we first saw each other? You thought I was your Jesse, got upset, and grabbed me. Why didn’t you--”

“That was different.” Aiden raised his voice.

“You aren’t our Jesse.” Aiden’s hands were beginning to shake as he stepped closer to Jess, who was now backing away.

Jess opened his mouth, but Maya got between the two before things could get worse. “What’s done is done.” Maya folded her arms. “Aiden messed up. We gotta work on fixing it now.”

“Maya’s right.” Stella started pulling on a strand of her hair while tapping her foot against the wooden floor. “With these two stuck here, The Awakening possibly planning something, and now Jesse knowing about Olivia, we have no time to argue.”

Olivia turned to Aiden, “Where’s Jesse now?”

Aiden shook his head, “I don’t know. He ran the opposite away.”

“That gives us some time to figure out what to do before he comes back.” Maya said. Then the room became quiet again.The only sounds filling the void was Stella’s foot tapping and wooden boards creaking from Aiden’s pacing.

Jess watched everyone think to themselves. No one was communicating or even standing close to each other, and while he wanted to speak up to get people talking, and get the feeling of progress actually being made, he didn’t know what to say. He returned to the stairs where Olivia stood and sat on one of the steps. He rested his head on his hands and sighed.

“You alright?” Jess asked quietly.

“No.” Olivia mumbled, slowly sitting down. ‘I shouldn’t be scared.’ She thought. She really shouldn’t. She survived a Witherstorm, the Admin, and other horrific situations, but in those cases, she knew what to be scared of, she knew what she was working with. What did she know about this universe? That there’s a creepy cult and an unstable version of her friend? She still didn’t know what The Awakening was capable of, nor the other Jesse. What’ll she do when he finds her? She hasn’t met the other Jesse yet--not that she wants to. Would she be able to tell the difference between her’s and the other? What’ll he do when he finds her?

Olivia glanced back at Jess and saw he was brainstorming now. She would love to hear some of his optimism right now. A light hearted joke, a comment poking fun at the situation, or just him telling her it’ll be okay. She needed it.

But she never got it.

“I guess we won’t be able to go out anymore, huh?” Jess muttered.

“No, you won’t.” Aiden approached the two, his arms crossed. “Jesse’s probably gonna start looking for Olivia here. We might need to hide you two somewhere else.”

“Not that I disagree with you, but where could we possibly hide them? Radar’s house?” Stella questioned.

Cassie groaned, “And what’ll Radar do when Jesse breaks in? Flip out again? Cry?”

“Cass--” Maya was about to start but kept her focus on the situation, “I don’t think Radar’s place is the best option either. If someone attacks, he’ll be unprepared. And I don’t think he’d be on board with Jess staying at his place after what’s happened.”

“We can’t do Hadrian and Mevia’s either.” Aiden said.

“Why not?” Gill asked, “They got some pretty good weapons! They could protect ‘em.”

“I know, but I don’t think they’d trust Jess either--” Aiden stopped. A lightbulb went off, “Unless we split these two up!”

“Not happening.” Jess shot the idea down coldly, “First you all treated me like I was some maniac, then you rat out my friend, and NOW you want us to split up?”

“This could be our safest option--” Stella spoke but was cut off by Jess.

“No, here is our safest option. You guys have plenty of weapons, Olivia and I can fight back, there’s plenty of hiding spots,” With each point he listed off, he kept getting closer to Aiden until they were face to face, “and I’ve been through much worse than one crazy person. We’re staying here.” Jess ended, snatching Olivia’s hat from Aiden’s hand.

“Fine.” Aiden said stiffly.

“Glad we… We got that settled.” Stella laughed nervously.

“If they’re staying here we should probably lock… Well… Everything.” Maya pointed out.

Stella jumped, “Right! We don’t know how long these two will be staying here!” She rushed towards the nearest windows and locked them before throwing the curtains over them. “Can’t risk Jesse--or anyone--seeing them!”

Gill sat on a barstool and stroked his beard. He watched Stella go from window to window, repeating the locking and covering process frantically. He watched Jess and Olivia talk quietly to one another, then his eyes drifted over to the table in the living room where the items for the flint and steel and book laid, then something clicked.

“Maybe we don’t gotta worry bout Jesse for long.” Gill said, a small smile forming.

“Hm?” Maya turned her head towards him as she flipped a light switch on. With no street lights or moonlight coming through the windows anymore, their house was beginning to darken.

“Well, I was thinkin’ that if we made th’flint ‘n steel, we’d be able to send those guys home. There’d be no Olivia or Jess for our Jesse to get, then we’d only have to worry bout The Awakenin’!”

Everyone stared at Gill. Stella stopped what she was doing to think about the plan.

“Two birds, one stone.” Maya shrugged, “We could do it.”

“Yeah, that could work!” Jess agreed, feeling a little more hopeful. Olivia nodded.

“Yes, but didn’t Petra tell us she’d take at least a week to find the rest of the materials?” Stella asked, her nails tapping against the glass of the window she had stopped on. Could they keep Jess and Olivia hidden for a week? Could they even stop their Jesse from breaking in after a few days? Locking doors and windows can only do so much.

“I can run over to Petra’s and see if she’s still home.” Cassie Rose spoke up, “I could tell her we need to speed things up and maybe look around her cave. She probably has some of the stuff we need in one of her chests.”

“But what if she ain’t home?” Gill tilted his head.

“And what if she doesn’t have the items.” Maya added.

“Then I’ll mine for the things myself!” Cassie said, already marching to the front door, “I’ll go to the Nether alone if I have to! I’ve done it before!” Cassie said.

Cassie could hear Stella gasp and knew she was about to start lecturing.

“I’ve broken the law a bunch of times. I’ll be fine.” She said.

Stella closed her mouth and clasped her hands together, “I know, I know, but please be safe.”

“I will.” Cassie opened the door, but before she could leave, Stella asked for a favor.

“Since The Awakening is involved in this… Mess, do you think you could ask Radar to come over?”

‘Why me?’ Was the response Cassie wanted to give, but when she looked back at Stella and the rest of her friends, she knew she couldn’t complain.

She gripped the door’s handle, “Yeah, sure.”

And with that being said, she left.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Stupid Aiden and his stupid slip ups in front of stupid JESSE. Out of all the nights to do something stupid he does it tonight. Cassie could only imagine what’ll happen in these next few days. Maybe Jesse--or heck, any other Awakening freak--might snatch Olivia and think she’s some weird zombie who’s been resurrected by their amazing ‘Hero’. Or maybe they’ll dig up her body from her memorial and do freaky cult things to it. What if they kill the other Olivia? Then they’ll have TWO dead Olivias.

This wasn’t the first time Aiden’s done something stupid because of Jesse, and it probably won’t be the last.

She wasn’t mad--Actually, that was a lie.

She was very mad. Not just at Aiden, but at everything.

It feels like everything has gotten worse since Jess and Olivia stepped foot into their universe. She and the others had enough problems to deal with before, but now having to deal with two look-alikes of their old friends, the dumb Awakening schemeing something, and now Aiden’s dumb stunt, their stress has been amped up by a thousand.

Maya’s right, though. There’s nothing she can do now to change what’s been done. She needs to focus on getting to Petra. Maybe Petra already found the materials despite it being a couple of hours since they last saw her. Then they could figure out how to make the flint and steel, and then they can send Jess and Olivia home, then they wouldn’t have to worry about their creepy Jesse. Easy!

‘And what if she doesn’t have the items.’ Maya’s voice echoed in her head.

‘Then I’ll get ‘em myself!’ She snapped back at the imaginary Maya. Though she knew if she did that, with or without telling her friends, she’d get an earful from Stella.

Cassie Rose could perfectly imagine what Stella would tell her after she would return from the Nether: “I cannot believe you! Going off on your own to the NETHER of all places, don’t you remember what happened last time? We were barely able to convince the guards to let you go!”

Cassie understood Stella was only looking out for her; she always assumes the worst case scenario will happen, but hopefully she understands stopping The Awakening is far more important than the law. They can’t sit through a bunch of paperwork in some stupid office to get a stupid license so they can hit a few rocks with a pickaxe or explore the Nether when there are caves and a portal close by AND easily accessible. They can’t waste any time.

As she continued moving forward, one yellow house caught her attention. It was the smallest out of all the surrounding buildings, only being a single story, but it was like a beacon under the night sky. The front light was on, but Cassie wondered if it was even necessary, as every light inside was on and were practically illuminating the entire street. The only few things that interrupted the beams of light were the leaves and stems of the many potted plants on the balcony. As she neared the house, her running soon slowed into a walk, and then she came to a full stop.

‘Speaking of wasting time…’ Cassie thought again, staring at the light, dusty yellow home in front of her. It was almost a struggle to stare directly at the house without being blinded. Of course the most obnoxious, unavoidable house belonged to Radar.

‘Radar can wait.’ She told herself, getting ready to move along. ‘Petra has the important stuff.’

‘You told Stella you’d ask him.’ She nagged herself, stopping again.

Yes, she did, but Stella should’ve known better than to ask her. She knew how much she couldn’t stand that little man. Why couldn’t she have sent Gill instead? Gill loves Radar! Stella could’ve sent anyone else BUT her, even Jess would’ve been a better choice.

She stared at the horrible house for another moment.

Maybe she could skip over Radar and claim she forgot.

Yeah, she was soooo caught up on getting to Petra’s, Radar just slipped her mind.

‘Don’t do that.’ Cassie told herself. ‘Stella trusts you.’ And they did need him, whether or not she’d liked to admit it.

The redhead let out a long sigh as she began trudging over to the front door, which shared the same color as the porch and roof. As she grew nearer, she was able to make out more of the plants’ individual leaves, the flowers began looking less like blobs and more like the variety of spherical, funnel, and bell shapes that they were, she could even decipher the different colors of the flowers despite the overpowering yellow light. A long, thin green leaf brushed past her hand, making Cassie flinch and swat at it.

She breathed in, inhaling the overwhelming floral scent which invaded the porch, and gave the walnut-colored door three, hard knocks. She was tempted to break it, but restrained herself.

Her shoulders immediately drooped when she listened to distant footsteps on the other side grow closer. Cassie was imagining the possible responses Radar would have in store for her and found herself getting tired of his voice already, despite him not saying a word to her yet.

The locks started to click and the knob began to turn. She shoved her fists into her hoodie’s pocket.

‘Just get it over with.’ Cassie told herself, ‘For your friends.’

Radar’s head peaked out from behind the door. The caution in his eyes blinked away when he saw it was only her.

“Oh, Ros--Cassie Rose. Good evening. What brings you here so early?” He asked, stepping a foot out of his house, noticeably tense.

Cassie held back her second sigh, “Hey, we’re kinda having some issues right now and Stella was wondering if you could come over and help.” She muttered.

“I don’t know if I could…” Radar’s words trailed off and he thought to himself for a moment, “I… I won’t be able to come over at this mo--”

“Bummer.” Cassie didn’t give Radar the chance to finish. She heard all that she needed to. She turned around and hopped off the porch, giving Radar a stiff wave, “I’ll be sure to let them know, see you.” She said flatly before taking off.

‘There, you did it.’ She told herself as she picked up the pace.

Cassie didn’t know what Stella was expecting. You can’t expect anything good to come from an Awakening member, former or not.

Stupid cult boy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The forest felt different when running through it alone. When she was walking here with her friends earlier, they managed to make this dark, noisy place feel familiar and gave it a sense of security. The same sense of security she felt when they started exploring stranger territories while on their way to collect weapons to destroy The Awakening’s lava beast. The memories of them huddling together as they navigated through the strange, colorful caves whose interior defied logic, or fighting Awakening members who were unfortunate enough to run into them in other chaotic forests far away from town were still fresh in her mind. No matter how bizarre or overwhelming the environments were, they were together, and they made those alien places feel a lot less foreign.

‘Jeez, that was almost five years ago.’ Cassie remembered. It felt like last week.

This was still the same forest with the same thick trees, the same blaring bugs, and the same cracked path, but being alone brought a different sort of familiarity to it. She was reminded of the times before she had met Aiden and the others, when it was just her and Petra. She thought back to the times she’d be rushing to the cave, running through here with the guards on her tail, shouting at her to return the goods she had stolen from the Night Market. She’d take sharp turns every few seconds to throw them off, listening to the men’s voices get quieter and quieter, causing her to smile widely and laugh to herself. The bizarre mixture of fear and enthusiasm--the possibility of getting caught or getting away--it was that combination which motivated her to run even faster.

However, the one thing that remained consistent during her years of going here was how stupidly scary it could be. There wasn’t anything to be scared about, but Cassie’s brain would trick her into thinking the tangled branches were one of those huge, venomous spiders who were about to lunge at her face, or the sound of a branch cracking was actually a monster ready to pounce on her. It was stupid, she knew spiders--though they have attacked her here before--were uncommon, and any other monster was MILES away from Obsidian Town, but that didn’t stop her from doing a double take at any strangely shaped silhouette her eyes would catch.

When she reached the entrance of the cave, she remembered one benefit about coming here alone: Walking along the cave’s path was much easier. On one hand, it didn’t matter if she came here with friends or by herself, she’d still be sandwiched between two cold, wet, stone walls. On the other hand, she wouldn’t be sandwiched between two people while navigating through the tight squeeze.

As Cassie walked deeper into the cave, straying further and further from the light, she realized she forgot to knock. This used to be her home though--technically still is--so does she really have to knock? You wouldn’t knock on your own bedroom door, right? But Petra always wanted people to knock, or at the very least, shout out their name in the cave. One time Aiden forgot to knock during a visit, and he accidentally slammed the door in Petra’s face. She wasn’t too mad about getting hit, but she did go off about the knocking. ‘What if I was dealing with a client?!’ Petra snapped, ‘Or working on something personal? You don’t see me barging into your house unannounced!’. This led to Stella pointing out Petra’s constant law breaking was much worse than forgetting to make their presence known, which led to Petra simply responding: ‘Yeah, but I still have manners.’

Cassie knocked against one of the cave’s walls as she continued walking, “Hey! It’s Rose!” She announced, just in case Petra didn’t hear the knocking.

Cassie kept walking and waited for a response. She waited.

And waited.

She was almost at the door and Petra hadn't responded yet. Petra never takes this long to respond. Cassie sped up, if there was even a chance something bad had happened to Petra, she wasn’t going to take her time. She didn’t want to be too late.

‘Maybe she left already.’ Cassie told herself, not wanting to jump to any wild conclusions yet. She knew if Petra got into any trouble, she could handle herself, and the last thing she needed was another person to worry about. When Cassie got to the door, she kicked it open; the wood collided with the stone wall and made a loud BANG. There'd be no way Petra missed that.

Cassie didn’t see her friend, but what she did see straight ahead of her was an activated Nether portal, confirming her suspicions. Petra was gone. She was a little sad she missed out on saying goodbye to her, but at least she knew she was safe.

‘Better start looking.’ Cassie started for the chests by the stone base where the portals stood. The closer she got to the portal, the louder it’s groans and crackles became, making it nearly impossible to hear herself think. She opened the chest, barely able to hear the wood creak, and knelt down--her legs freezing the moment they touched the cold ground, despite her wearing long pants. She threw her hand in and peered inside to see whatever random items were thrown into the chest.

“Cobblestone, a bunch of sticks, clay, iron, a bell--” She listed aloud, trying to speak over the portal’s racket. Surely ONE of the items she was looking for was in one of the millions of chests scattered around here--

“Thief.” Cassie heard a deep, muffled voice from behind say. She whipped her head around and froze when she saw the Crying Wither looming over. They stared down at her through the eye holes of their wither skull; the white paint coating it had peeled off over time, leaving strips of the skull’s original, charocal-black color visible once again. The strips were thickest under the eyes.

Cassie clutched her chest and breathed in, “Thanks for the second heart attack today.”

“Second?” The Crying Wither tilted their head. They offered their sooty, gloved hand.

Cassie accepted it.

“Yeah, you can thank Aiden for the first one.” Cassie said as she was pulled to her feet. The Crying Wither reeked of smoke, and speckles of the Nether portal were still hanging onto their black, buttoned-up vest and dark gray, long sleeved shirt, which had a few tears in them.

“Oh boy.” Petra took off the skull, “What’d he do this time?”

Cassie ranted about the situation, about how Aiden revealed Olivia--not directly, but that didn’t matter--and now everyone was freaking out. While Petra was listening, she had to remind herself there were now two Jesses. This must’ve happened after they both visited her.

Cassie kept going off for another few minutes, getting everything out of her system, then returning her focus on Petra. “...That’s why I’m back though. That li’l creep is probably gonna be taking Olivia and we need to get her and the other Jess home.”

“Right, I get that.” Petra nodded, “And I get that this is serious, but I’m doing this alone, I’d be lucky if I found any of your supplies in a week.” She said, walking to the edge of the stone base and stepping off.

Cassie watched her friend approach a double chest by the cave’s door. “I know.” She shoved both of her hands into her pocket.

“But…” Petra placed her wither skull on the floor and opened the large chest. She pulled out a neatly folded stack of clothes. Cassie’s eyes lit up when she recognized they were the same dark blue pants and long sleeved shirt she used to wear, topped with her old brown belt and gloves as well.

“The process would definitely be faster if I had an extra set of hands.” Petra smiled as she walked over to Cassie again, “Whaddaya say, White Pumpkin? Just like old times?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“... That’s so weird to think about.” Olivia mumbled, sitting on the guest bed, and hugging her knees with her hat next to her. Lukas is gone. That’s a statement she never wanted to hear. He was a couple of years younger than her when he went missing, too.

“Yeah. It is.” Jess was leaning against the only window in the room, looking away from his friend. One of his hands was gripping the lift of the window, tempted to throw it open and get some fresh air, but he knew it had to stay locked.

Olivia didn’t know what to say. What more could be said after hearing about her close friend’s disappearance? That everything is going to work out? That they’ll find him? That there’s a chance he’s still alive? Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they both knew he was most likely dead. With no knowledge of how he died, Olivia could only hope his passing was painless.

Olivia kept thinking back to the story and what had happened. Her alternate self was involved in the search party, yet Olivia felt a strange sense of grief for not being able to recall memories that weren’t her’s, and she failed a Lukas who wasn’t theirs. Olivia could tell Jess felt a similar way when retelling the story; he’d become so invested his voice would crack and tears would well up in his eyes during certain parts, as if he had experienced it firsthand. He’d pause at some moments to remember what he was told, or to find a way to reword the situation--maybe in an attempt to shine a more hopeful light onto it, to make the blow softer for her or for himself.

“Man, our universe is kinda nice compared to this, huh?” Jess sat next to his friend, laughing a little. He wasn’t sure why he was laughing. This wasn’t funny.

Olivia watched him play with his red suspenders as he continued talking, “Back home, you and Lukas are alive. I’m almost certain Ivor might be dead as well--or heck, the entire Order. We don’t have some crazy cult or a crazy me running around, trying to find you now--”

“Mad at Aiden?” Olivia asked, though she already knew the answer..

“You aren’t?”

“I’m…” Olivia let her mouth hang for a moment, “I don’t really know how to feel right now. So much has been happening, I don’t think I can be mad at one specific person with what’s been going on.”

“I’m not blaming Aiden for this entire mess!” Jess jumped off the bed suddenly and began pacing around the room, “I know these people are supposed to be ‘the good guys’ of this universe, and I want to try to make things better, but being surrounded by these people and the way they’ve treated me--! I was just starting to warm up to them, and maybe we could’ve moved past those bad first impressions but--but--” Jess pulled on a lock of his hair tightly and stared at the ceiling as his pacing became faster, “Aiden slipped up cause of a hat! A stupid…!” He threw his head into his hands, fingers tangling in his hair.

It was quiet for a minute, only the sound of Jess’ heavy breathing filled the room. When he heard Olivia quietly call his name, he peeked at her through his fingers. Worry filled her eyes, but she wasn’t worried about Aiden, about the alternate Jesse, she wasn’t worried about a single thing in this universe right now. She was worried about him.

Jess’ hands slipped off his face and wrapped themselves around his body. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Jess finally said, taking a step closer to his friend.

Olivia scooched to the side, making more room on the bed for him.

“Aiden didn’t mean to.” Olivia mumbled as Jess sat back beside her. “And I know this isn’t the greatest environment to be,” She placed her hand on his shoulder, “but they do want to help us, and they’re trying their best, even if they’re clearly struggling from time to time.”

That got a light chuckle out of Jess. Olivia felt herself grinning as well.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jess rested his head on his knees. His smile started to fade, “Things are getting worse. I don’t wanna drag you down by being stressed constantly. I want to keep your spirits up, you know?”

“I do know.” Olivia inched closer to Jess, “Do you know how many times I’ve been afraid of being a burden with my constant worrying?”

Jess blinked and lifted his head up, “What? But--You know you’d never be a burden to me or any of our friends!”

“Mhm, it’s because I have you around to remind me that you care, and I can say the same thing to you right now.”

The two pulled each other into what was meant to be a quick hug, but they found themselves holding onto each other for longer than expected. In this moment, the cold world around them grew warmer. In this moment, their worries went away. In this moment, they had each other.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Not their door, the front door on the first floor.

Jess went back to the window and peered down.

“It’s Radar!” A little grin appeared on his face. It was reassuring to see Radar better, especially after the last time they saw him.

“I think I’m gonna head downstairs.” Jess said, watching the front door open and Aiden welcoming their friend in. “They needed him for something and I’m kinda curious about what that something is.”

Before Jess could leave the room, Olivia stopped him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if you accidentally frighten him?”

Jess thought for a moment. Radar knew he wasn’t the same Jesse who attacked him the night before, but the awareness meant nothing when he looked exactly like the other Jesse. “I could… Sit on the steps? He wouldn’t have to worry about looking at me.” Jess suggested.

Olivia nodded in approval and the two headed off. As they neared the staircase, they could make out Radar and Aiden’s voices. Aiden’s voice was much louder compared to Radar’s; they could hear more of Aiden’s explanation of the current situation, while barely being able to understand Radar’s responses. When they reached the bottom, they sat down and made themselves comfortable on the last few steps. Aiden glanced in their direction and gave them a quick wave--he looked stressed--before bringing his full attention back to Radar, while Maya, Stella, and Gill listened.

“Oh, dear…” Radar was fidgeting with his clipboard and pen, “And you’re positive those were Awakening members?” He found himself struggling to maintain eye contact with Aiden, and kept glancing at the papers on his board rather than his friend.

“They didn’t say anything about The Awakening, and I didn’t see them,” Aiden confessed, “but I don’t know any other group of people who wander around underground.”

“We heard voices--well, Aiden heard ‘em, but he wouldn’t lie about this sorta stuff.” Gill added.

“Worst case, Aiden just went crazy for a second and didn’t hear anything.” Maya said the comment in her usual tone, but her bit of humor seemed to do the job at making Radar relax a little.

“But at the very slim chance they were members,” Stella spoke up, not too enthusiastic over this possibility, “do you happen to remember The Awakening ever mentioning portals? I do recall them attempting to summon--or search--for The Hero.”

“Oh yes, that was one of the portals’ purposes.” Radar placed his pen in his pocket to stop himself from clicking it constantly, “However, another important purpose associated with them is their connections to the afterlife.”

All eyes were on him, urging him to go on. He gripped his board tighter and swallowed.

“The… The portals…” Radar started, doing his best to keep his voice steady, “It was believed that those who were loyal to The Hero would have their souls taken to the universe which he was banished to…” Radar continued to avoid any sort of eye contact with his friends, and focused on sharing the information they wanted to hear. As he kept talking, his nervous rambling soon gained confidence, the same confidence he used to feel when he recited what he learned during the gatherings in front of the Visions, in front of Brenner, enthusiastically talking about this wonderful knowledge he had been gifted. It felt like a switch had been flipped in his mind, and that familiar enthusiasm was rushing throughout him as he talked about how the souls kept in this distant universe were protected by The Hero and treated wonderfully as their reward for remaining faithful. How those who turned against The Hero, or doubted his power, would be sent to an eternal abyss. The Awakening had always tried to create the portal which led to this universe of bliss, Radar remembered the elder members sharing stories about how close they were to making it! How they were disappointed in themselves for failing, but content knowing their loved ones were safe, even after death. Those thoughts, those visuals, oh they were all so comforting. Radar, despite knowing how horrible The Awakening’s mindset is, still found comfort in this idea during the nights he’d be wide awake and sobbing. It was like an embraceful hug, arms holding you carefully, paired with a gentle voice who promised you everything was going to be okay. You’ll be safe. Who wouldn’t want such a tale to be true? To know that when those you cared about left, there was a way to bring them back, even if it was nearly impossible.

“... Perhaps--if The Awakening truly is planning on creating a portal--they want to revive their Sense after his demise!” Radar finished boldly, proud of this conclusion he reached and believing everyone was on the same train of thought as him. When he looked back at his friends, he was disheartened to see the lost expressions on everyone.

“The--their Sense.” Radar said again, thinking this was the detail they were stumped on. “The man with black hair? Beard? He was one of the leaders and ran towards us with his sword--”

“No, no, we remember him.” Stella gave him a small smile and clasped her hands together. “It’s just…” She mumbled to herself, trying to figure out the nicest way to word her next phrase without crushing Radar’s spirits.

“Radar, I love ya buddy, but that didn’ make any sense.” Gill said. Maya nodded.

“Yeah, I got a little caught up on everything else you were saying.” Aiden admitted.

“It… It makes sense… To me.” Radar’s voice fumbled into a whisper.

To me. Those words repeated in his head. Of course everything he said made sense to him, but how could people who’ve never stepped foot into a gathering possibly comprehend what Radar was going off about?

“I didn’t really understand it either, but you really got into it.” Another voice spoke up. Radar turned to his left and yelped when he saw Jess sitting there with Olivia.

“Please warn me whenever you’re in the room.” Radar pressed his clipboard against his chest, catching his breath. A twinge of guilt shot through Jess.

“From what I could make out,” Olivia said, “The Awakening might be creating a portal to the afterlife because one of their leaders died?”

“Yes!” Radar exclaimed excitedly. He spun around to face Olivia’s direction, covering his left eye with his clipboard to keep Jess out of his sight. “That’s essentially it!”

After the others finally understood what Radar was talking about, they discussed what should be done next. Everyone still agreed sending Jess and Olivia home was the most important priority, and arguably the easiest task to complete compared to stopping an entire cult. Maya reminded them there was still a chance The Awakening might not be planning this, or involved with anything portal related at all. Nothing was certain yet.

“Thanks for coming over again, ‘preciate it.” Aiden said to Radar, “We’ll be sure to update Rose when she comes back.”

“I’m still surprised she actually went to you.” Maya raised her brows.

“Yes, so am I.” Stella said, “But I’m glad she did! Hopefully she’ll come home soon, even if she returns empty-handed. I just want her in one piece.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Petra shot out of the Nether portal and landed on the stone ground with a loud thud, her sword slipping out of her grasp and landing on the ground with a clatter. She threw her sack of items on the floor and yanked off her wither skull, coughing widely, trying to get the smoke out of her lungs. She had barely escaped a huge fireball that had been shot out from one of those horrifying Ghasts, but had luckily spotted it in time and was close enough to her portal to dive through it. Her only concern now was whether the obsidian portal on the other side had sustained any damage. It shouldn’t have. Hopefully.

Usually Rose would have been on the lookout for any monsters while Petra would gather up the goods they had found that day. The two of them used to get their hands on great items like blazerods, glowstone, quartz, sometimes they’d stumble upon ruined portals and find an entire block of gold! And even though the two of them knew how dangerous the Nether could be, they’d often treat the place as if it were their own personal playground. They’d climb those bizarrely tall crimson trees, hiding in their thick, soft leaves that would get tangled in their hairs, or sometimes nudging and poking the deformed pig-like inhabitants with their swords until one of the creatures would inevitably get angry and they’d have to run away, laughing as they told each other they’d never do that again, knowing full well they’ll do again.

There were also a few Nether Fortresses within walking distance of the portal--some much farther than others--they enjoyed exploring together. With each visit, the three fortresses would be filled with a new assortment of hellish monsters who dropped amazing loot, or they’d find a chest they’ve missed before and find an assortment of items. Their favorite fortress, however, was the one north of the portal. It was the farthest one away, and also the smallest of the three; having only one room with three separate doorways, one being the entrance, the left leading to a platform outside, and the final leading to what remained of a large bridge. About a quarter of the bridge was left, and whether the giant columns which used to hold the rest had collapsed, or monsters tore it apart was unknown, but it didn’t matter. Petra and Rose would sit together at the edge of the bridge, looking over the ocean of lava--Petra could only look down for so long before getting shaky--and in the distance, they could see more land. Land that they’ve yet to explore. They could make out unfamiliar vegetations, crooked structures, large arches and floating land. They still had so much adventuring to do, they hadn’t even finished thoroughly searching the side of the Nether they were currently on yet!

Her and Rose made a pact, promising they’d work to explore the entire Nether together. They’ll leave no stone unturned; they’ll claw their way up every mountain, fight any monsters that stood in their path, and venture through the darkest caves together. That promise was made years ago, and though Rose doesn’t have the time to join Petra like she used to, Petra was still keeping her word. She wasn’t going to explore anymore of the Nether unless Rose was right beside her.

Ever since Rose moved in with Aiden and her other friends a few months ago, rummaging in the Nether has been a whole new level of difficulty. She didn’t mind the extra challenge, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t lonely.

Petra glanced at the sack on the ground and picked it up, it was light. Kind of disappointing when comparing it to her bags in the past. She loosened the rope around it and peeked inside; chunks of soul sand, mushrooms, and a whole bunch of glowstone. It wasn’t much, but it was still something. She placed the bag on top of the chest nearby the portal and let out a long, loud sigh.

“Rough day?” A voice asked, causing Petra to jolt. She immediately grabbed the sword on the ground and spun around, ready to fight the intruder.

“Wait, wait! I’m sorry--!” Jesse yelped, shielding himself with his arms. Petra lowered her sword and let out another sigh, this one out of relief.

“You’re okay,” Petra leaned the sword against the portal, “but why were you hiding behind my portal? You weren’t planning on attacking me, were you?” She raised a brow. It was Jesse’s turn to jump.

“No, no, no, no! I was looking for you, and I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I started walking around, but then I heard the portal making a weird sound and--”

“I was just being mean, I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” Petra chuckled. Jesse relaxed a little. She tilted her head at him, “Come on up.”

Jesse’s face brightened and he stepped onto the platform. As he approached Petra, the purple light and strange sounds coming from the portal grabbed his attention. His walking slowed as he turned his head to get a good look at this amazing structure. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this close to a Nether Portal, he doesn’t even know if he has been this close before. It almost didn’t look real.

And he kinda…

Kinda sorta…

Wanted to stick his hand in it. He really wanted to.

Petra must’ve known what he was about to ask, because before he could even pop the question, she said, “You can touch it if you wanna.”

His eyes sparkled and he gave a quick, excited thanks before shoving his hand into the portal’s glistening entrance.

To his surprise, the purple vortex was cold. He had always imagined the gateway that connected their world to the world of lava would’ve been excruciatingly hot. He didn’t mind being wrong, though, it was strangely pleasant. He’d move his fingers individually, able to feel them stir through the substance with no struggle at all. It was almost like… A small stream, one he’d find near the town’s borders, where he’d dip his feet in and watch the water continue to flow and swirl, undisturbed by his presence.

Jesse was almost tempted to shove his head in there, curious if it’d feel just as pleasant on his face, but then he’d risk throwing himself face first into the Nether. And he wasn’t ready for that. Maybe another day.

“So, why were you looking for me again?” Petra asked. Jesse pulled his arm out of the portal.

“I… I just needed to get--” He cleared his throat, “I just wanted to check on you, you know?”

“Not really.” Petra folded her arms, “I appreciate the thought, but you know I can take care of myself.”

“No!” Jesse blurted, “I mean, I do know that, but that’s not what I meant.”

Petra looked at him. He swallowed, “You’re not… Mad at us, are you?”

Petra blinked, “No?” She cocked her head, “Why would I be?”

Jesse crossed his legs and looked away, “I feel like we took Cassie from you.” He held his hands behind his back, “We busted in here one day, said ‘Hey! We’re gonna save the world!’, grabbed her, and next thing we know it, she’s living with us instead of you. And--”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Petra interrupted, “Jesse, first of all, you didn’t ‘take’ Rose from me, she wanted to tag along with you guys, just like how she chose to move in with you. You’re acting like she died or something, but she didn’t, right?” Her brows went up.

“Right. She’s still in one piece.” Jesse forced out a chuckle.

“Exactly. And guess what? Even if she’s off doing her own thing now, she still visits me. She’s allowed to do whatever she likes and I’m not gonna stop her. Besides, what sort of person would I be if I didn’t let my friends grow?” Her words were exactly what Jesse needed to hear. The frown on his face disappeared and he fixed his posture, much more energetic than he was seconds ago.

Petra found herself grinning at Jesse’s reaction, his happiness was rather contagious. She wrapped her arm around him, “And the best part about her visits is her tellin’ me what you and the others have been up to! Like fightin’ off cult members, or almost setting your house on fire--”

“Hey, that was Stella’s fault!” He laughed.

“Oh right, Miss Professional Baker.” The two of them laughed some more.

Petra kept going, “My favorite story from her so far is when you guys chucked one of those cult creeps into lava!” Jesse’s laughing stopped and he went a little pale, Petra kept talking, “Hero, every time I think about it it makes me pumped! Next time you plan on doing that, you gotta invite me.” She smirked.

Jesse’s throat tightened, “That was an accident.”

“Don’t be ashamed of knocking one of those sickos off this planet.” Petra gave him a light punch. “If I was there, you know I’d never shut up about it. Like ‘Hey! You’re talkin’ to the girl who killed a cult leader! You better watch it’!” She stuck her finger out and gritted her teeth, acting out the fake conversation.

When she saw Jesse still wearing an uncomfortable expression, she changed the subject. “How’s everyone doing in Obsidian Town?”

“Oh, good.” Jesse perked up, “Stella, Radar, and Olivia have been helping with the town’s repairs after that little lava monster incident.”

“Yeah, hardly even noticed it.” Petra rolled her eyes playfully.

“Right.” He chuckled a little, “Cassie, Gill, Aiden, Lukas, and I are gonna be heading off to another city to pick up some materials when the sun sets.”

“Sunset? Today?” Petra asked. Jesse nodded.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop worrying about you.” He admitted.

“Awh, I’m touched. BUT,” Petra started guiding Jesse to her cave’s door, “there’s no need. Like I said, I appreciate you checkin’ in, but it’s not necessary.”

“I know.” Jesse’s voice dwindled. They reached the door and stood there for a moment. Petra stared at him, he looked crushed.

“Buuuuuuut if you wanna…” Petra spoke up, “You can come over once a week? Every two weeks? Just pop in, say hi, catch up. You know.” She shrugged.

Jesse was back to smiling, “I’d love that! I can think of a specific day where we can hang out so I won’t scare you again!”

“I didn’t get scared!” Petra shot back, face turning slightly red. She opened the door and shoved Jesse out. “Now get OUTTA here, you got a city to go to!”

“Right, right!” Jesse hurriedly made his way to the exit. “I’ll see you next week!” He shouted, his voice bouncing off the cave walls.

“You better knock next time!” Petra hollered back with a big grin on her face.

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm petra #mcsm radar #mcsm cassie rose #mcsm aiden #mcsm stella #mcsm gill #mcsm maya #mcsm jesse #mcsm olivia #APWHNPMCSMWASAMCSM #AU fic #thank u again for being so PATIENT WAAAH #hope u enjoy!!!!!#fic

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