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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Light on the Door (ao3) (WWX in the Nie sect) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2

“Absolutely not,” Nie Mingjue said.

“I know this has come as a surprise to you,” Jiang Fengmian said, and his voice was calm and pleasant the way it always was. Reasonable. “But you must understand that –”

Nie Mingjue held up a hand. “Perhaps I was unclear, Sect Leader Jiang,” he said. “Let me clarify: absolutely fucking not.”

Jiang Fengmian was not an easy man to anger, nor did Nie Mingjue truly want to do so: he needed as many allies in the inevitable war against the Wens as he could manage. If he was smart the way Jin Guangshan was always encouraging him to be, he would soften his words, smile, try to make things palatable – but he was not Jin Guangshan, and he had never bent on a matter of principle.

Especially not when the principle was small and young and still unsure of himself underneath his bravado, afraid of losing all that he had gained in a single moment.

“His father was my right hand,” Jiang Fengmian said, a rare frown creasing his face. “The Jiang sect would raise him as his father had intended.”

“His father is dead,” Nie Mingjue rebutted. “And before he died, he was a rogue cultivator – your Jiang sect has no claim here.”

“Legally, no,” Jiang Fengmian said. “But morally –”

“He joined my Nie sect willingly,” Nie Mingjue interrupted. His hands are clenched into fists behind his back: of course this would be the thing that Jiang Fengmian refused to bend on, it was different when it was his family that died, their legacy he wished to see fulfilled, and never mind about the murderer that still walked free and unhindered even by mere criticism. Never mind that that had been a father, too. “As is his right. If he wishes to go, I will not stop him –”

There was a moment there where Jiang Fengmian looked pleased, as if he thought Nie Mingjue was giving in.

“– but I do not understand him to want to,” he finished. “And no, before you ask, I will not let you bully him and bribe him until he does as you wish; as long as he is part of my Nie sect, he will be protected even from that.”

“Am I not even allowed to make the offer?” Jiang Fengmian asked, clear challenge in his voice. He even permitted his qi to flare up, cultivation acting to suppress those in the area – absolutely inappropriate, a tremendous breach of etiquette that could only barely be ascribed to Jiang Fengmian’s emotional state rather than a deliberate desire to intimidate.

Nie Mingjue kept his back straight despite the pressure. No one would blame him for faltering, not even his sect elders; the pressure was immense, and he was in the end only sixteen years old, his body not yet fully formed or even fully grown despite him already being taller than Jiang Fengmian –

But he had his pride. His pride, and Baxia, and the Nie sabers did not bend for anyone.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, allowing his rage into his voice. “Control yourself, or you will not see him at all.”

Jiang Fengmian closed his eyes briefly, recalling his power; there was a hint of apology on his features when he opened them again – perhaps it really had been a mistake. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“Do you know what that sort of pressure can do to someone who’s not yet of age?” Nie Mingjue demanded, crossing his arms. “If Wei Ying was harmed because of you –”

“I would never hurt Wei Ying! Or any other child!”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, omitting to mention that by some measures he already had. “Perhaps not, if he refused you; you’re not exactly demonstrating dignity in the face of being told ‘no’ right now.”

Jiang Fengmian’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t say anything – he had, in fact, been intolerably rude. He took a deep breath, calming himself forcefully, and then focused on Nie Mingjue.

“His father was my closest friend,” he said, and there was a touch of real pain in his voice. “His mother was very dear to me. I only wish what’s best for him. If he comes back with me, I would make him a direct disciple –”

“So will I,” Nie Mingjue said.

That got a reaction out of Jiang Fengmian beyond anger and selfishness.

“A direct disciple of your Nie clan?” he asked, clearly shocked. “But your clan – there’s only you and your brother in the main line!”

“I’m aware.”

“You don’t seriously mean that you would risk the inheritance of your sect –”

“I have already announced it to my sect,” Nie Mingjue said. “Three weeks ago. If what you want is what’s best for him…other than stories of his parents, which you could give him without taking him away, is there anything else you can find lacking and insufficient in my Nie sect?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Jiang Fengmian said, suddenly belatedly cautious.

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said flatly. “You persist in treating me as a child when I am a sect leader, the same as you. I have told you that the answer is no, and that the answer will remain no. You are in Qinghe, Sect Leader Jiang; if you’re going to insult me to my face, I suggest you pick better ground.”

Jiang Fengmian bit his lip and looked down. “You will not let me take him.”

“I will not,” Nie Mingjue agreed. And then, because Wei Ying really did deserve to know his parents, he added, “But I would be willing to consider something else.”

Jiang Fengmian looked up. “What do you mean?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, having just thought of the idea himself. “You have children around his age, don’t you? Send them to the Unclean Realm for a season, and I’ll send Wei Ying and my brother to the Lotus Pier for another season in return – it’s not an uncommon arrangement to build relationships between sects.”

An extremely old-fashioned and out-of-date one – nowadays, heirs would only go for long-term visits if there was a real reason to go, like Teacher Lan’s lessons; even the Lan sect, which was close allies to the Nie, would only come to visit for a few weeks.

But it was something he could offer. Something that would make clear to Wei Ying that he wasn’t being abandoned or given away or sold; with Nie Huaisang by his side, he would always remember that he was a part of the Nie sect first and foremost, and get some good experience in the world besides.

“I would like that,” Jiang Fengmian said slowly. “Yes – I would like that a great deal.”

“We’ll work out the details, then,” Nie Mingjue said. The sooner this meeting was over, the better; he wanted to go scream and hit something. “Is there anything else?”

“One more thing.”

Scream. And hit things. Many, many things.

“Yes?”

“You call him Wei Ying,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Have you thought of a courtesy name for him yet?”

He had offered the man an inch and he was trying to take a mile, but Nie Mingjue could see the desperate hope on his face, the need for him to leave some mark of the Jiang sect on Wei Ying – to honor his parents’ legacy or to make up for having failed them, it didn’t matter which.

Perhaps this would convince the man to finally drop the issue for good.

“I would be willing to listen to any suggestions you might have,” Nie Mingjue finally allowed, still hedging in case it was something really inappropriate. “What did you have in mind?”

“Wei Wuxian has a good ring to it,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully once the horrible meeting was finally over and they could creep out of their hiding spot to stretch their legs. It was getting a bit cramped in there. “And I suppose it really was the very least da-ge could do, after having all but told him off to his face – especially since the Jiang clan really is quite powerful. I’m really very proud of da-ge for managing to keep his temper as well as he did; we should do something nice for him in return. Don’t you think?”

He paused for a moment.

When he didn’t receive a response, he frowned. “Wei Ying?”

“Is that what a direct disciple means?” Wei Ying said, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“What?”

“A direct disciple,” Wei Ying repeated. His face was frozen stiff, maybe from shock or something. “You said it meant I’d be a member of the family.”

“That is what it means.”

“Yes, but you didn’t – you never said – being a direct disciple puts me in line to inherit the Nie sect?”

“Well, yes,” Nie Huaisang said, scratching the back of his head a little. He had no idea why Wei Ying was behaving so strangely. “I mean, the Nie clan runs the Nie sect, and we’re the Nie clan, so joining the Nie clan obviously means – ”

“There’s nothing obvious about it!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “You have cousins! Cousins and aunts and uncles and – there’s so many of them I can barely even keep count –”

“Branch families after many, many years,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “But Qinghe Nie doesn’t make everyone with a drop of blood in them a direct disciple; you have to be part of the main family for that.”

“But…!”

“But what?”

“It’s your sect,” Wei Ying said. “My surname isn’t even Nie!”

“Well, first off, stop assuming you’re going to inherit the sect because that requires both my brother and I to be dead,” Nie Huaisang said. “Which we have no current plans to be. Secondly, if you did end up as the only direct disciple left, you’d be required to marry in with one of the cousins and have Nie babies before you were allowed to actually be sect leader. So for the sake of your future marriage, you have to keep us alive –”

Wei Ying grabbed him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said, and Nie Huaisang very nobly decided not to complain about how his tears and snot were getting his very nice robes all wet. “I don’t know why you want me, but you do, and – thank you.”

“Of course we want you, you’re great,” Nie Huaisang said, delicately patting Wei Ying on the back. “Look at you, not just one sect wanting you, there are two fighting over you; how many people can say that…?”

“He wants my parents, not me,” Wei Ying said. “If I went there, he’d love me for them, and if I didn’t have anyone else, that’d be good enough – but da-ge picked me for no reason at all, and you grabbed onto me just because –”

“I mean, I did have some ulterior motives, I do so much less saber training now that you’re here –”

“Just accept the compliment.”

Nie Huaisang grinned. “Okay, fine. Besides, you can finally stop saying you need to pay me back now!”

Wei Ying pulled back and wiped his eyes. “How’s that?”

“Didn’t you hear da-ge? You’ve just gotten me a free vacation to Yunmeng for a whole season! It’s going to be great!”

“I hope so,” Wei Ying said. “We’ll be spending a lot of time with the Jiang sect heirs…I hope they’re as nice as Lan Zhan.”

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder. “Just accept it now, Wei Ying. No one’s ever going to be as perfect as Lan Zhan in your eyes.”

“Shut up. Do you know anything about them?”

“The Jiang sect heirs? There’s a girl and a boy, that’s all I know. They’re too young to be the subjects of gossip, though, so I can’t tell you anything about their likes and dislikes.”

“That’s fine,” Wei Ying said. “I guess we’ll find out when we see them.”

“Your dog is wonderful,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Thanks,” Wei Ying said, beaming. He liked the other boy already. “Yours are pretty great, too!”

“They are, aren’t they?” Jiang Cheng said, face lighting up. “This one’s Jasmine, and this one’s Princess, and the last one’s Lovely!”

“Mine’s Xiao Bai! And he’s big enough to be three dogs all together!”

“No kidding! I’ve never seen a dog that big! Why’s he that big?”

“Dunno. Da-ge says he’s a sheepdog from the mountain, and they get really big there.”

“Do they have to fight bears or something? I bet he could fight a bear.”

“Well, maybe if he had to,” Wei Ying said. “Unfortunately, I kind of raised him into a glutton, so now all he wants to do is lie around and eat meat –”

Xiao Bai barked.

“...and he knows the word for ‘meat’.”

“He’s so smart,” Jiang Cheng said, reaching out to rub Xiao Bai behind the ears. “Such a good boy –”

“Please tell me you like something other than dogs,” Nie Huaisang said to Jiang Yanli, who hid a giggle behind her sleeves. “Please. I can already foresee the rest of the season going like this.”

“Well, dogs are very distracting creatures,” she said, her eyes curving into crescents. “They’re warm and furry and all that. But I’d be happy to talk about something else with you…do you like painting?”

“Very much,” Nie Huaisang said, interest piqued at once. “Do you paint?”

“I’m average,” she said with a small shrug. “But I enjoy it. You’re welcome to join me, if you like – I don’t think A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian are going to stop anytime soon.”

“A-Ying can do it for hours all on his own,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully. “He used to be afraid of dogs, you know? I almost miss those days…can we really go paint?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know. We were sent here to learn, weren’t we? I thought it’d be lessons all the time. ‘Go to the training field!’, that sort of thing.”

Jiang Yanli smiled and visibly resisted the urge to pat his head. “Some lessons are taught outside of the training field. Do you know the motto of Yunmeng Jiang?”

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. Memorization had never been a strong point. “I mean…”

“It’s ‘attempt the impossible’,” Jiang Yanli told him. “To live bravely, without restraints on your heart.”

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to parse it, “you get to do whatever you want?”

“Not quite,” she laughed. “But we get more freedom to govern ourselves than most, yes. I don’t train too much – I don’t have much talent, you see.”

“Neither do I!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, beaming. “But da-ge’s always pushing me to do better, work harder, try more…”

He trailed off when he saw the wistful, almost envious expression on Jiang Yanli’s face.

“…don’t you like not being forced to cultivate?” he asked, a little hesitant.

“Your brother loves you very much,” Jiang Yanli said. “He only wants what’s best for you. He pushes you because he thinks you can do it.”

Nobody pushed her because nobody believed in her, she meant, and even Nie Huaisang – a devoted good-for-nothing – felt awkward about it.

She didn’t even have a sword.

“Well, don’t worry,” he said, clumsily trying to offer some comfort. “You’re coming to Qinghe next season, aren’t you? You’ll get more than your fill of people pushing you to do things there!”

“I’m sure,” Jiang Yanli said, not sounding as if she believed him at all. “But for the moment – do you want to go paint? And perhaps later we can convince A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian to go shoot kites while we pick lotus seeds.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Nie Huaisang said. “And maybe we can go to the market and see if they have any fans? I have a collection, you know.”

“Well,” Jiang Yanli said, smiling again. “If you have a collection, then of course…”

“I’m not sure I’m entirely suited for this, Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Yanli said, breathing hard.

“I don’t see why not,” Nie Mingjue said, putting Baxia up on his shoulder. “Take a walk around the yard so you don’t get cramped while your heart-rate comes down, then we can start again.”

“Sect Leader Nie, with all due respect, I wasn’t really intending on picking up something new – much less saber, which isn’t even practiced in the Jiang sect.”

“Well, you have to train in something, you didn’t bring your sword, and all we’ve got are sabers,” he pointed out with a shrug. “What else were you planning on doing while you were here?”

Jiang Yanli smiled a little. “Feminine activities?”

Nie Mingjue let his eyes drift over to the nearby field where three of his aunts were pulverizing a training model that looked almost startlingly similar to one of his uncles.

Jiang Yanli coughed as if she could hide the laugh. “I admit I was more in mind of – cooking. Or sewing, or painting…”

“You can do that in your free time,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Nie Huaisang sang your praises in every one of his letters; the least I can do to repay you is making sure you get the full benefit of your time here. Consider it a gift.”

Jiang Yanli did not seem especially pleased by the gift. Her face did exactly the same sort of ‘thanks I hate it’ twist as Nie Huaisang’s.

He wondered idly what excuse she was going to try next. She might not realize it yet, but she wasn’t going to have any more luck than Nie Huaisang had ever had.

“Sect Leader Nie…don’t you think I’m too old for this?”

He stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“Most sword cultivators start in their childhood –”

“You’re fourteen.”

“It’s more difficult to pick things up once you get above ten,” she said with a shrug. “There’s nothing to do about it –”

“Pick a skill you’re good at,” he said. “Any skill, and teach it to me.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You’re not that much younger than me, and I can still pick up new things,” Nie Mingjue said. “You teach me a skill, and I’ll teach you one, and that way we’ll be fair – and if I really can’t pick up yours and you really can’t pick up mine, then, and only then, will I admit that you have a point about our ages.”

Jiang Yanli still seemed uncertain, although she also looked somewhat intrigued. “Sect Leader Nie…what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of what? Of cultivating? You’re a cultivator, aren’t you? Isn’t that point enough?”

“I’m not going to ever be an outstanding cultivator,” she pointed out. “I’m going to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother –”

“We’re literally cultivating against the heavens,” Nie Mingjue interrupted her. “Aren’t you Jiang sect people supposed to attempt the impossible? You can be someone else’s and still be yourself.”

He’d never been very good with words, retreating when possible into silence, but something about what he’d said left a mark.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli said, and raised the practice saber she’d already adorned with a pink bow – a clear sign that her subconscious had committed to it, even if her mind hadn’t yet caught up. “I’ll take you up on that bet, Sect Leader Nie. Saber, and then you can join me in the kitchen to cook.”

Cooking? Cooking was fine, he could do cooking –

“And we’re not making barbeque.”

…maybe he couldn’t do cooking.

Whatever. That was a problem for later. Nie Mingjue lifted his saber and bared his teeth at her in a grin. “This time,” he said. “Make an effort, will you? I’d like to break a sweat sometime today.”

Her eyes flashed, and she attacked.

“You two are going to get along and that’s final,” Wei Wuxian announced, hands on his hips. “Now I’m going to get us some snacks and while I’m going you guys are going to get over yourselves, you hear me?”

He made a show of storming out the door, but the second he was outside he waved his hand furiously to send a passing servant to get the snacks and crept back to listen.

Neither Jiang Cheng nor Lan Zhan was his shidi – that was Nie Huaisang – and of course no one could match his da-ge, but he loved them both very much, so they had to get over this inexplicable rivalry they had.

They had to!

“…very special,” Lan Zhan was saying.

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said. He sounded unusually serious – unlike Lan Zhan, who was always serious (except when he was being teased, in which case he was delightfully flustered). “He’s just – I don’t know. It’s hard to share, you know?”

“En.”

“It’s…let me tell you about my sister.”

Wait, why were they talking about Jiang Yanli? She was great, but not relevant to the issues here.

“When she first came to Qinghe, she got into a bet with Sect Leader Nie over…I don’t even know what. She practiced the saber a lot. And then she took one of the sabers home, and she kept practicing with it – my parents were pretty confused, but they mostly let her do what she likes, and Mother was pleased that she’d at least started cultivating something even if it was the wrong thing – and…she’s happier now. Like a candle lit for the first time.”

“…I understand,” Lan Zhan said, which, good for him because Wei Wuxian was totally confused. “It was the same for me. The first ray of sunlight in the morning.”

“Yes! Exactly like that.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“I suppose,” Jiang Cheng finally said, sounding rather begrudging about it, “that sunlight is meant to be shared.”

“En,” Lan Zhan said. “We are all equal under the sun.”

“I could manage equal,” Jiang Cheng said. “As long as we’re the same, yeah? Best friends.”

There was a brief pause, and then – “Best friends,” Lan Zhan echoed. “Agreed.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help himself: he burst in through the doors at once. “You can’t be each other’s best friends!” he exclaimed. “You’re my best friends!”

They both looked at him, eerily identical long-suffering expressions on their faces, and then they looked at each other, and then for some reason they both nodded to each other like they were sealing some sort of pact.

“Okay, it’s all decided,” Jiang Cheng said. “We’re all best friends from now on.”

“All of us?” Wei Wuxian said hopefully. “Both of you?”

They nodded.

“And Nie Huaisang, of course,” Wei Wuxian said. “We can’t leave him out! He’s my shidi!”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Lan Zhan assured him.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “I guess second place to the Nies isn’t bad, if it’s shared.”

“Xiao Bai,” Lan Zhan said.

“…third?”

“Suibian.”

“Fourth.”

Lan Zhan nodded.

“What are you two even talking about?” Wei Wuxian complained, but not really – he was too happy. He threw himself in between the two of them, wrapping an arm around each one. “I leave you alone for less time than it takes to make a cup of tea and suddenly you’ve got some sort of secret code…”

“Don’t worry, you idiot,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “We still like you the best.”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jiang fengmian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #light on the door

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action · 5 years

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#BlackExcellence365 Spotlight: Aundre Larrow

Hey Tumblr! Our first #BlackExcellence365 Spotlight of 2020 is Aundre Larrow (@aundrelarrow), a Brooklyn-based visual artist whose work has been featured on Adobe, Walmart, Verizon, and more. We got a chance to talk to him about his favorite projects, including his @teenvogue series showcasing the lives of formerly incarcerated women.

Tell us about yourself. When did your passion for photography start?

My name is Aundre Larrow and I’m a black artist based in Brooklyn, New York hailing from South Florida. I’m a Jamaican immigrant, an only child, and a Triscuit lover.

I started taking photos on borrowed film cameras from friends until I turned 15 and my theater teacher gave me his old Minolta SRT 101 as a gift. After that I would use my money from working at Old Navy and whatever I could talk my mom into donating to buy film and get it processed at the Walgreens a mile walk away. The passion started when I realized I could freeze moments I held dear and capture them. I loved getting my film back. I loved sharing it; Making little yearbooks and giving them to friends. I still have some of those prints in my childhood room.

Your work tells many stories, primarily of Black bodies which some photographers find it difficult to capture. What inspired you to make your series about shooting against darker skin tones?

Whew, I don’t know what it is about the phrase Black bodies, but it always hits me hard. I read an article on Mic. And it got me thinking.

I thought back to this teachable moment I had after college. I was interning at the Gainesville Sun. The photo editor had tasked me with taking portraits of the high school athletes in the fall feature, but I didn’t use a hair light. When I came back with the images, he looked at me sideways like “what’re you doing?” We can’t tell where their hair stops. (To make matters worse, I had used a black backdrop.)

I later learned from trial and error, from assisting photographers like Coty Tarr, and from studying the work of folks like Michele Walker, Joshua Kissi. Street etiquette paved the way for me at bevel, TBH.

You recently did a story with Teen Vogue featuring formerly incarcerated women. How did that project impact you and the work you create?

Maaan. You don’t know yourself until you’re in a small room listening to women discuss how painful it is, not being able to see their kids for months and months. One woman explained to me that one parent had abused her, and the other was enraged that she reported it. These women built new identities for themselves while separated from everything they knew. These two quotes will always stick with me:

“When I got out, it wasn’t like a walk in the park or whatever. When you’re in penitentiary, there are certain hours of the morning that you have to stand up to be counted. So I would automatically wake up and stand up. Sometimes, I would get up and lock myself in the bathroom. I spent 18 years in a room with a toilet and a sink. This was the closest thing, you know, to feeling safe. Can’t nobody get to you. It wouldn’t be until my kids would start knocking like, ‘Hey, are you okay?’”

And:

“Our struggle has been from the beginning of time. Like I said, we’re a nurturing species. This doesn’t go for just the Black mother or person. Everybody, every racial background, has their own struggle. But, I think we’ve been beaten, raped, and downtrodden for so long that our will to survive and save the world has become like our bank.

You might not be my son, but if I see you in trouble, I am going to help. If I see the police run up on you, I’m going to throw myself in front of you. If I can save somebody’s son, I am going to do it because that’s how we’ve been built.

We, you know, from the slave ships, we were the ones singing them love songs, belly to belly and all the feces and stuff. We held on and kept everyone together and told them, ‘I love you and just hold on ’cause we gon’ make it.’”

How do you embody the mission of #BlackExcellence365 in your everyday work?

Existing is a form of resistance, no? No, but for real, excellence is something I can’t determine for myself. I simply try to embody the process of creation.

How has Tumblr allowed you to showcase your work and connect with other Black creatives?

Tumblr has brought so so many Black creatives together. Just to name a few, @skinnywashere, @stewyiscool, and Tutes; Tumblr OGs telling the New York story for so many of us to follow along. That community will last forever. Those connections are unbreakable.

When I interviewed @lawrenceagyei he spoke so fondly of finding the work of Joshua Kissi and how it inspired him. It brought a smile to my face

Tumblr gave me the ability to shoot Fashion Week and a platform to share the full story. It’s one of the best things about the platform. Photo stories pop because you decide the weight of each image. It’s easy to share, reshare and show BTS.

Thank you for sharing your story, Aundre!

Tumblr, do yourselves a favor and make sure to check out his photography and follow his journey. And, hey, we wanna hear from you. What other Black Tumblr artists or activists should we spotlight? Use the tag #BlackExcellence365 to let us know.

This interview has been condensed for clarity

#BlackExcellence365 #Black history month #aundre larrow

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tybalt-tisk · 6 years

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.consider it handled

// Shallura {protect au} Summary: Allura just wanted to have a peaceful workout. Warnings: Flirting, Fake Dating. Also on Ao3 // Also, I did add a Read More option, but sometimes Tumblr hates ya girl.

.~.xXx.~.

Sometimes Allura was too nice. She knew that. It was one of the few things everyone knew about the princess. She always had the tendency to disguise how she truly felt behind a dazzling smile and uphold the regal composure that took years of etiquette classes to master. Sure, on more than one occasion, it had landed her in her fair share of easily avoidable situations when she gave people the benefit of the doubt when she knew she shouldn’t have, but it was never anything she couldn’t handle.

Until now.

Now, at this exact moment in time, while she was trying to complete her workout, she was doing everything in her power to remember her training by refraining herself from driving her fist directly into the mouth of the arrogant man who was desperately trying to get her number. He had been at it for far longer than she would have liked and even though she kindly rejected him, more than she could possibly remember, the man just couldn’t seem to take the hint. Her smile wavered with every obnoxious word that left the man’s lips and her fingers itched to find a new home in his mouth.

With perfect form, she did another forward lunge and masked her irritation with a deep breath that could be easily mistaken for exhaustion. Well, it wasn’t far off because she was exhausted. Just mentally. With him.

The only reason why she chose this gym was so she could have a peaceful workout. It was just far away from home so she could remain unrecognized most of the time, but just close enough so she could return within the hour in case something came up. For the past month, she enjoyed this gym; it was spacious, clean, and it had various activities, like yoga and spin classes she could attend if she ever felt the need to. All in all, it was a very nice gym...except for him.

The man laughed at his own joke and it almost made her sneer. “I was just thinking that. Ya know since we both like purple…” Allura feared that if she rolled her eyes one more time, they’d get stuck like that. This man was saying anything and everything to woo her even if it meant resorting to him assuming that her favorite color was purple simply because it was the color of her oversized tank top. “...that me and you could…”

“You and I,” she corrected under her breath with another lunge forward.

The man made a questioning sound. “You say something, darlin’?”

She shook her head innocently with a forced smile. “No, I didn’t say a thing.” She’d lost count of how many lunges she put her left leg through, but the burning sensation told her that it was time to switch to the right.

He leaned heavily on the machine next to him and folded his arms over his puffed out chest. “Anyway, yeah, what do you say to me picking you later tonight for a little...one-on-one time?” He finished the vain proposal with a wiggle of his eyebrows and Allura couldn’t help the subtle snort that left her lips at the ridiculous attempt to look...literally anything but sexy. This man was persistent, arrogant, and vain. What an unfortunate combination of shitty characteristics.

She quickly finished her set before she turned to him and wiped the sweat off her brow. “Look, I’m very flattered by your...persistence, Jerry.”

“The name’s Gavin.” She knew his name, but she was irritated.

She expertly hid a smirk under an artificial look of confusion. “Mason?” she responded absentmindedly with a fictitious frown as she picked up the various weights and placed them back in their appropriate locations.

“Gavin,” he said a bit louder, just in case she didn’t hear him over the sound of grunts and the machinery around them.

After she placed the weights back, she freed her hair from its loose ponytail so she could redo it tighter. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and raked her fingers through the strands to work out the newly formed tangles and knots. “Michael, please don’t make this hard for me…”

He suddenly clapped his hands together once as if he just witnessed an impressive trick. “How did you know my middle name?” he asked enthusiastically and Allura suppressed a groan at her accidental discovery. Out of all of the names she threw out, she just had to pick the one he identified with. “Wow, we have such a deep connection! Amazing!”

“Yeah...amazing,” she said sarcastically, fixing her hair. This was getting old and her patience was wearing dangerously thin. She decided then and there that she had finally had enough. “Gavin, listen to me and please listen to me carefully. I do not want to go out to dinner with you. I do not want to catch a movie with you. I do not want to take a long walk on the beach with you and talk about ‘our future together’,” she finished her sentence off with air quotes. She looked him square in the eye and spoke with the same authoritative voice that she used when she commanded the attention of the room. “I want nothing to do with you. Now, please leave me alone so I can continue my workout in peace. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

Gavin seemed taken aback at her tone as the words started to sink in and for a moment, for a sweet, blissful moment; one filled with silence and the peace she longed for, Allura thought she finally had reached through to him.

He nodded slowly. “I think I get it,” he said with a roguish grin. “You just want to skip all the formalities and go right to the bedroom, don’t ya?”

Something snapped within her, and all of the training her etiquette tutors spent years embedding into her flew directly out the window. Allura didn’t think twice as she brought her balled fist back so she could deck the arrogant man who dared considered he even had a sliver of a chance with her, but before she surged it forward, a firm but familiar grip caught her wrist and eased it down to her side smoothly in one fluid motion.

“Hey babe, we still on for dinner tonight at your Dad’s place?” Allura didn’t need to look back to know exactly who just saved this idiot’s two front teeth. The arrogant man’s vision was so clouded with his own self-inflated ego, that he didn’t even know his, so-called, good looks were in danger of the princess’ wrath.

It took a moment, but when she realized exactly what he had said, her eyes darted to meet his and she knew exactly what he was doing. Her bodyguard was only confrontational when he needed to be and right now, he was looking for a way to let the guy down easy, even if Allura wanted to do anything but that at this point. Shiro raised his brows as if he had asked her an unspoken question when she didn’t immediately respond. She narrowed her eyes but reluctantly followed his lead with a huff and relaxed her fist.

Within a fraction of a second, all of her training rushed back to her and she sent him the perfect smile. “Of course, but remember we need to stop by that cute little bakery I like so we can pick up dessert because I won’t have the time to make anything.”

Shiro released her wrist when he realized that she wasn’t going to follow through with her assault on the poor, unsuspecting man. “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll pick up a pie on the way home,” he lied smoothly. “Your dad’s allergic to apples, right? Or is it cherries?”

“Rhubarb,” she corrected him casually, even though the allergy was completely fabricated information about the reigning king.

Shiro made a sour face. “Great, rhubarb is trash anyway.”

“It’s absolutely delicious, you just have trash taste buds.” She turned her back to him then handed him her hair tie over her shoulder.

Shiro rolled his eyes. Of course, she would take this fake dinner date opportunity to make him fix her hair. But he’s not complaining. He’ll never complain. He absolutely loves the way her soft hair felt against his fingers. Although sometimes, the strand did tend to snag on his metal joints, thankfully he’s gotten better at keeping it to a minimum.

He rolled the elastic hair tie that’s seen better days onto his wrist before he gathered her thick curls in his hands. He finger-combed her scalp to wrangle in runaway strands before he secured her hair into a neat ponytail that left them both slightly surprised.

“Hell yeah,” he mumbled to himself, praising his small victory.

She looked over herself in the mirror that covered the entire back wall of the gym and tightened her new ponytail from the base. “Not bad, Shirogane.” She turned back to face him and was surprised and equally annoyed to see that Gavin was still there, looking back and forth between the two. Even when she was clearly “taken”, the obnoxious man still couldn’t even grasp the mere concept that she wasn’t interested in him.

Her irritation must have shown because Shiro reached forward to grab her by the hips and gently, he pulled her closer to him. She came to him without the slightest ounce of hesitation and without being prompted to, she casually brought her arms up to rest atop his shoulders. With her in his arms and with him in hers, he almost forgot it was a charade they were acting out. He knew it was dangerous to be with her like this - for this to feel all too natural to him. It was such an intimate position but strangely enough, it felt like he’d done it a million times before.

Maybe because he did.

He’s held her like this plenty of times. Like when they were at formal events and she gave him a look that told him that she wanted to dance. He’s never told her no and using the simple steps she’d taught him, she allowed always him to lead her gracefully around the dance floor. Or when she brought out the teenage rebel in him when she wanted to sneak out of her luxurious home, “the old fashioned way” as she so elegantly put it, and he’d had to help her down from the second story when he knew damn well she was capable of doing it herself.

...Or when it just the two of them on those quiet nights when the manor was asleep and the only thing left for them to do was to explore the boundaries of the friendship they are both painfully aware that went well beyond what separate friendship from duty from something else he was always scared to admit out loud.

“What time do you want to leave?” he asked, breaking himself away from his runaway thoughts.

She made a thoughtful face. “I want to get there around 7:30,” she told him.

He looked at his watch to check the time, not that it even mattered. “Okay, I’ll do one more round, then I’ll head out and grab the pie on the way home. Don’t stay here too long because you know how long it takes you to get ready.” Unlike the rest of their ruse, that part was him speaking nothing but the truth. Sometimes, she could be a brat and she’d take forever to get dressed. Most of the time, it was because she was too busy pestering him, and other times, she simply didn’t want to go, so she waited until the very last possible moment before she started to even consider getting herself together.

She pouted and clicked her tongue. “I do not.”

“Oh, you might think that you don’t, but you do.” She playfully jabbed him on the shoulder in retaliation, knowing damn well that he was right.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gavin watching them intensely as if he was waiting for Shiro to leave so he could make his move on her again. He felt Allura’s irritation rub off onto him. What was with this guy? What did it take to get him to beat it?

In front of him, Allura giggled and she gave him a look that he’s seen plenty of times - when they glided around the dancefloor, when he helped her sneak out, and when it was just the two of them late at night hidden away from the harsh reality of the world and their position in it. He knew this look all too well and it always signaled for the one thing he’s never given to her.

But he’d be damned if he gave in to her now because some jackass that couldn’t read a room.

Instead, he hooked a single finger under her tank and pulled her close until her lips almost met his. She watched his mouth move as he spoke just loud enough so Gavin could hear what he was going to say next. “Also, I want my tank back.” He almost laughed out loud when he heard Gavin release an annoyed gasp, followed by a few brash words.

She smirked at the man’s reaction and caught her bottom lip between her teeth, both out of spite for the arrogant man and also to tease Shiro with one of the many things she did that she knew drove him wild. If they were playing a game, then she might as well play to her advantage. She knew she hit her intended target when the hand that still rested on her hip tightened in warning.

She laughed to herself before she released her lip so she could speak. “I don’t think I can do that because it looks better on me.” Once again, the lines were blurred between the show they put on and the playful nature that was their undefined relationship.

He shrugged. “You look a’ight.”

She looked amazing.

Seeing her wear his clothes always stirred something within him. She had enough money in the world to wear the latest fashions, but instead, she chose to raid his closet for her casual attire. He still hasn’t seen his favorite hoodie. Well, no that was a lie because he’s seen it. On her.

When he was sure that Gavin had finally retreated somewhere deep into the gym, probably to cancel his membership, he stepped away from Allura. “You alright?”

She nodded. “Of course, and it's all thanks to my knight in sweaty joggers,” she laughed.

“I would have come sooner, but you keep insisting that you can handle these types of things.” His sentence was laced with sarcasm. Of course, if Gavin had displayed any type of aggressive behavior, he would have stepped in before the man even told her his name. But a subtle hand signal from Allura kept him at bay.

“And I was about to handle it until you showed up and pretended that you were my boyfriend,” she responded full of confidence with her head held high.

He raised a thick brow. “You call laying that guy out, ‘handling it’?”

She used him for balance while she stretched her legs for her upcoming jog on the treadmill. “As a matter of fact, I do. I can bet you my horse in The Netherlands that if I would have handled it the way I intended to, he wouldn't have ever bothered me again.”

Shiro snorted. She was completely right, she would have made her message clear as day if she had done it her way. She may be petite compared to his large frame, but the tiny princess had a mean left hook that was nothing to take lightly. He knew for a fact that he saved Gavin and not the fight club princess who was ready to throw hands. But also, “Who the hell bets a whole horse?”

She walked away with a flip of her new ponytail. “People who have horses to bet, of course.” She made it sound like he should already know this. “I guess it's time for cardio.” She looked almost defeated by admitting it.

Shiro laughed at her tone. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

“Because it is,” she whined. Allura only liked to work out to keep her body healthy. Sure, there were certain activities she liked to do, but there’s one thing she hated more than anything and that was running. She definitely had the stamina to jog five miles easily, but her laziness tended to peek through and stunted that trek down to only two or three. Shiro lost count of how many times she dragged him out of bed for a morning run, only for her to give up at their further point and call for a taxi.

“You’re a drama queen, you know that?” He leaned her over to the treadmill and leaned over the frame as she programmed it for a steady walk.

“I am not a drama queen.” She increased the speed to a light pace she could be comfortable with before she placed her headphones into her ears. “I’m a drama princess.” She gave him a purposely cheesy wink before she fully started her cardio session and Shiro shook his head before he ventured off to finish his own workout.

.~.xXx.~.

Allura wiped the sweat off her brow once she finished her run. It wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be. She actually made herself proud at the fact that she ran for a lot longer than she usually did, but she felt like she needed to make up the extra cardio from all the time Gavin wasted trying to woo her.

Allura took a long drink of water before she came to the decision that she was done putting her body through hell for the day. She wrapped her headphones around her cell before she left to search for Shiro in the massive gym.

She immediately knew where he was. Unlike her, who just did what she pleased at the gym, Shiro had a strict schedule that he religiously stuck to. Today was arm day for him and along with a few reps using the equipment, he also liked to work on his agility in the boxing ring.

She heard him before she saw him. The hard jabs that met his opponents punch mitts echoed throughout the room and it gathered a crowd who looked on in awe. She found a gap in the crowd and approached the edge of the ring so she could watch him as he went through the speed drills. His feet were silent and his hands were quick and powerful as they met their target with deadly precision. He showed perfect form when he followed two quick jabs to the right with a hard left hook and a tuck to the right. The action happened so fast, she almost missed it.

His steel grey eyes were focused on their target and they held a different light than what she was used to seeing. It was like he wasn’t her Shiro. The Shiro she knew was always so kind and gentle with her that she always forgot that he could be extremely dangerous when he needed to be. He had been top of his class after all.

Beside her, a few women swooned at the sight and she rolled her eyes. Gavin and these ladies would get along just great, she thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro saw a flash of white. He knew he had gathered a crowd but none of them phased him like she did. Right now was the absolute worst time to be distracted, not during a speed drill. He twisted his body to evade an incoming punch before he gave a precise combination of jabs and hooks.

When the whistle blew, both praised the other for their participation. Shiro unfastened his gloves before he made his way to Allura who was stood at the side of the ring. His face heated at the realization of how many people had gathered around to watch him.

She handed him her water bottle so he could take a well-needed drink. “You’re so cute when you blush,” she teased loud enough so the gossiping ladies could hear her. They immediately went silent when they watched Shiro take her offered water.

“I thought I was cute all the time?” he caught her tease and threw it right back at her.

She folded her arms over her chest and raised a brow. “And what hussy told you that?”

He finished off the rest of the water before he handed it back to her. “You did, ya hussy.” He laughed at his own joke and she couldn’t help but join in. He squatted down to her level. It was rare that she watched him do his drills. She always tended to keep her space from him until it was time to leave or if something was bothering her. His face suddenly turned serious and she saw the same dark look flash in his eyes when he was focused in the ring. “Is that man bothering you again?”

She quickly shook her head. She was glad that Gavin gave up on her because there was no saving him if Shiro took him as a serious threat. “Nope,” she said lightly. “However, something is on my mind.”

“What is it?” he said quickly. When she disclosed something to him, he always took it seriously, regardless of the severity.

“What time should I be ready?”

Huh?

She didn’t have anything scheduled tonight. Along with being her bodyguard, he was also sometimes her personal assistant. He knew of every event, every public appearance, and every trip she had coming up within the next two months memorized down to the hotels they were staying into the roads they would be using. When he couldn’t think of what she was referring to, he furrowed his brows in confusion.

She rocked on the balls of her feet causally and her crystal blue eyes danced with mischief. “You promised me a date tonight, Shirogane,” she said playfully. “Or did you forget already?”

Shiro searched her eyes, looking for any sort of indication if she was joking or not. There were ladies around ogling his form, so maybe she was just returning to their little charade they played earlier.

But then…

She always told him that she’d get him to take her out one day, and he did. He did every single time she asked, but it was always in good fun...that always ended with a missed opportunity. But now, he could tell that she meant it.

He smiled at her warmly before he brought her knuckles to his lips. “How does 8:30 sound, Princess?”

“It’s perfect.”

.~.xXx.~.

Also, I’m really considering making this an actual story. One with a storyline and character development, but I’m unsure. Let me know!

#shallura #voltron #tybaltwrites #protect au

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josephhealan-blog · 5 years

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Hello, my name is Joseph and I’m a rideshare driver

Like a scared, timid visitor to their first 12 step meeting, I stand here before you reader and declare in front of my higher power and the rest of you my inclusion in the growing population of drivers in the ride share era. I’m not embarrassed by my participation in this new modern phenomenon but you’ll see later in this initial post why I have framed it this way.

I don’t distinguish which company I drive for to protect them from any story I might share that could compromise their reputation. I have personally found them all to be mostly reputable and sometimes a challenge to work with. My journey is what it is and depends very little on which of the firms I am currently working for. I plan on encouraging questions but that’s one I will not answer.

Driving strangers, except for the time I picked up a former boss of mine, around my favorite city has been an amazing experience. If there is a color, gender, profession, age or any other type of human on the planet I’ve had at least one of them in my car. For 47 years I have lived in Atlanta or her suburbs and every shift I drive down a street I’ve never seen before and explore a neighborhood I’d never heard of.

What’s the blog for? Why the introduction that intones embarrassment or shame with this noble profession? I’ll get to that at the end of this inaugural post and I hope to take a deep dive into that very issue over time as well as share some of the odd ball characters and adventures I’ve been on with my riders. I’ve even had nights where I damn near feel like a superhero and plenty of rides I’d consider as some of my proudest performances as a human being.

As of the date of this post I have given 2,623 rides. There’s no count of actual butts in seats but that’s at least 3,000 men, women, children and a few dogs. We are required to carry service animals but a few good old fashioned pets have been along as well. To some that sounds like a lot but to veterans and the earliest drivers that started as soon as Uber came on the scene it’s a drop in the bucket. There are drivers out there now with over 30,000 rides and counting. I share my number not as a brag but as a reference point that I’ll update with future posts. I’ve learned a lot from those veterans at the airport lot, gas stations and the streets of Atlanta. We are everywhere. Pay attention if you never have the next time you stop for gas or visit a busy shopping center at the stickers in the front and back windows of cars.

Why the shame? The shame comes from many places. From society and otherwise wonderful people and from terrible human beings I’ve had the displeasure of driving in my car. I am a mid 40’s white male with a conservative haircut and I look like a typical dad or boss that would be cast on a tv sitcom. In a crowd of rideshare drivers I stand out a bit. I get second looks from riders in West End Atlanta that are not expecting me to show up and I get this question several times a shift, “what do you do for your real job?”. Real job. Driving strangers to new locations in one of our countries worst cities for traffic full of aggressive drivers is a job and one that requires focus, attention and customer service all while making sure you and your companions don’t die. I myself have been a victim of being embarrassed about my side gig, removing my window stickers while visiting someone or going on a job interview. I do not do that anymore.

My “real job” is in Finance and Accounting. I’ve been doing it for over 25 years and I’ll be doing it again as soon as I start a new contract assignment in a few weeks. I’m good at what I do and proud of my career and I’ve had the chance to work for and alongside many amazing people. But compared to my side gig, my “real job” is a piece of cake. Indoors all day, bathroom right there on demand, usually a fridge with food and coffee service. While I am on contract I sometimes drive 2 to 4 nights per week to help pay down bills and between assignments I drive long shifts up to 6 days per week. I can’t sit around at home and drive my wife crazy and I need the extra income to bridge assignments.

One night not long ago I picked up a young woman south of Atlanta in the wee hours of the morning and took her downtown to one of our large hotels. Conversation is not a given, I have a plan for a rider/driver etiquette post in the future, but this young lady was delightful and I appreciated her energy at the beginning of her day to help me get through the end of my day. As we pulled up I inquired about her job there in genuine curiosity, and based on her uniform with the hotel’s logo, I assumed it was a safe question. She very apologetically and quietly told me she was currently working in housekeeping but hoping for a better position soon. Not wanting to let the moment pass but not wanting to slow down her walk into work I said to her, “please don’t ever apologize to me or anyone else about having a hard job. You are up before dawn while others sleep and not only do you have a job with a great well known brand in the hotel industry, you also have ambition and a plan to expand and grow your career.” She smiled very gently, touched my shoulder and said “thanks man”. I’ll probably never see her again but I hope she’s doing well. I took my own advice and stopped apologizing for my job too.

Georgia State University is my alma mater and when school is in full swing the current students along with the other students in Atlanta area schools are heavy rideshare users. Students, from Clark, Spellman, Morehouse, State, Tech, Emory, Gwinnett and even as far north as Kennesaw have been some of my most interesting riders and have renewed my faith in the next generation with their amazing plans for their futures and the unbelievable things they are working on. I believe I’ve probably had a future scientist that will work for NASA and a doctor that will save a child’s life and a teacher that will pass that energy on to another generation of riders, but they’ll probably be in an auto piloted helicopter that will force me to find a new gig.

But not all students have been my favorite. At least one of them is one of my least favorite humans and I hope she will mature and have some life experience that will smooth out some of her sharper edges. It was an after work shift while I was on assignment so I was dressed like an accountant. I picked up two female GSU students for a fairly long ride from their dorm to a restaurant outside of the perimeter, 285 for any non-Atlantans that may one day stumble across this story. They weren’t particularly talkative at first but we started talking about their classes and their dinner plans. As they mentioned their career ambitions after school I shared that I had once in a previous millennia graduated from their school. One of the riders made one more unremarkable comment to close the loop on our polite small talk.

Her friend, however, was apparently unimpressed with me and said in a tone that might have been intended as a whisper but rang through the car like a church bell on a clear afternoon, “went to state and can’t even get a real job”. Her friend audibly gasped at the rudeness that had just been forced on hers and my ears and she reached up and touched my arm beside the seat. Her touch lasted a little too long but did very little to tone down the anger and disgust I was feeling. I had just left my six figure job to drive her to dinner and her absolute dismissal of my side gig of choice was so ignorant and short sighted that it shocked me. I hope she never knows some of the challenges and hurdles that my own choices and the random life changing tornadoes that happen no matter how well you plan that have landed me in a place where one job doesn’t quite make the ends meet. And even in great times I have found myself driving a few times a week to buy something special or extra or just to feel useful while my wife was busy and there weren’t any kids at home. My personal reasons for driving are of absolutely no consequence in relation to her comment and I gave the one and only rating of 1 star to a rider I’ve ever given that day. It means nothing to her and won’t keep her from getting rides in the future but it will keep her out of my car.

As a contract worker I am regularly interviewing for assignments and I am keenly aware of my online reputation. I toyed around with making this blog anonymous for the same reason that rude student was dissatisfied with my career path. But I decided to use my real name for two reasons. For one, if I come to your office for an interview I’ll be rocking my window stickers and I’ll probably be giving rides 5 minutes after I leave. And second, if you share the opinion of that rude student I don’t want to work with you. And I don’t have to. The good people of Atlanta that need a ride will carry me, just as I carry them, until I land a new gig and scale back my shifts.

Enough heavy stuff for now. With so many rides done I have funny stories, scary stories, gross stories and a few that might even be a little R rated. If anyone except my poor wife actually reads this blog, I hope you take away something positive and find it entertaining. If not then thank you tumblr for providing me a space to offload a lot of mental baggage in a way I might share with others one day.

Adios for now. See you in my rearview!

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ebdaydreamer · 7 years

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Purpose - Chapter Four

Chapter Four: The Purpose of Fun Part Two

‘He liked being busy, having a purpose, and although he enjoyed helping out the townsfolk, he wanted something a bit more constant and preferably close to the sea.’

Just my take on what Killian would do for a job in Storybrooke based off a tumblr post.

Basically a bunch of interlinking one-shots. Not necessarily in chronological order.

Contains Captain Swan, Captain Cobra, and Hook/Snow BrOTP (Snook?)

So yes, I wrote this over a year ago and I’m finally publishing it as part of my Sixteen Fics challenge

Previous chapters

[AO3]

“You know, I thought you were joking about the hike,” Emma panted from the back of the group.

It was a miracle he even heard her, with the wide gap between the front and the rear, which were essentially two different groups at this point. When they'd set off, Killian had taken the lead and had instructed Emma to keep an eye on them from the back. However, he hadn’t anticipated some to be severely eager, and others to be so idle - no middle ground.

Someone from the back group had affectionately named them ‘The Slackers’.

Emma wasn’t pleased.

He knew Emma was in good shape (many times had she tried to introduce him to the fitness centre they have in this world - albeit she claimed the one in Storybrooke was rather lackluster - yet (when they weren’t chasing after villains) he preferred to join her on her twice-weekly runs) but it seemed even the former bail bondsperson had quickly tired from the morning hike.

“What’s the matter, Swan? Can’t handle it?” he called back teasingly.

She gave no reply, but he was pretty sure that if they were not surrounded by kids a certain finger of hers would be raised.

“Killian,” whined someone who was trudging not far behind him, “Are we nearly there?”

“Not far now,” he told the group.

He heard another groan from his half of the group, “You said that twenty minutes ago!”

“Alright!” he halted, spinning to face the group. “Today is all about teamwork! Three tasks will be presented to you today, and in the groups I’ve already assigned, you will be completing them. The winning team will win a prize.”

At the word ‘prize’ several people perked up in a meerkat-like manner. He bit back a chuckle, setting about explaining the first task.

“Orienteering,” he announced. “We will be setting you off in different locations, with only a map, a compass, a talking machi-”

“Radio.”

“And a radio for emergencies,” he corrected, flashing Emma a thankful smile. “There are fifteen marks; at each mark you must collect a coin as proof. I have made a sheet for each team to help you find each mark. You will do this by either solving the riddles, following the directions, or finding the coordinates on the map. You can do them in any order except for the last one, which is where the next task is. Also, some marks will not have instructions on the sheet, as you must go to the previous mark to find the clue for that one. The sooner you arrive at the second task the more points you get. Any questions?”

Henry’s hand shot up, “Yeah, when did you set this up?”

Killian smirked, “Your mother and I may have taken a few trips here whilst you were at your other mother’s.” Henry seemed satisfied with the answer, and Killian took another question.

“What’s the prize?”

This time Killian didn’t hold back his laugh, “My lips are sealed.”

There were a couple more questions and a few moans when he sorted them into groups (he tried to mix up gender and age in groups of five or six, yet that didn’t stop him from trying to play matchmaker with a few of them).

“Emma, love,” Killian turned to her, who had noticed and was clearly amused at his matchmaking, “Care to transport Group 1 to their starting point?”

Emma grinned affirmative, strolling over to the first group, “Remember: don’t start until we contact you on the radio.”

***

“It’s upside down, stupid!” Angel snatched the map from Caroline, setting it straight. “Ok, guys, we can win this, we have Henry.”

“Why am I the key to success?” Henry asked, slightly intimidated by the athletic girl.

“Because,” she rolled her eyes, “you know how Killian works. Plus you’re smart, so there’s that.”

“No pressure,” Caroline grinned oh-so unsympathetically at him.

Henry was in a group of six: eighteen year old Caroline, she was on the pathway to becoming a nurse, which was helpful (he wasn't entirely unconvinced his sorta-stepdad wouldn't take this opportunity to torture him); sixteen year old Angel, who was probably stronger than any of the boys her age; little Karen, her enthusiasm was certainly a bonus; twelve year old Kevin, he was small and fast, Killian had called him ‘the ideal cabin boy’-

-and of course, Violet.

He was going to murder Captain Hook.

“Right,” Henry glanced over the sheet with the list of marks. “Killian said we can do this in any order, but knowing him, it’ll be far quicker to do the logical thing and work chronologically.”

“The first one’s a riddle,” Violet said, leaning over his shoulder to read it, her chin grazing his shoulder.

She may be his girlfriend, but he was still a teenage boy who had no idea what he was doing.

“So we need to solve it,” Kevin finished. “What is it?”

Henry recited: “First think of a person who lives in disguise, Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies. Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend, The middle of middle and end of the end? And finally give me the sound often heard During the search for a hard-to-find word. Now string them together, and answer me this, Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss? You have the answer, job well done! Now think of a place where these creatures have fun. I know it may be hard but put on your thinking cap, What’s a place like this on your map?”

Angel’s face was pure confusion, “Um, I’m sorry – what the hell?”

“That feels familiar...” Caroline raised a brow.

“Of course it does,” Henry vowed to tease Killian to no end over this, “Part of it is from The Harry Potter books. Belle had them read a few weeks ago in book club.” Henry shook his head, the fearsome pirate Captain Hook was really a nerd, “He’s just added to it.”

“Ok,” Violet brushed off her curiosity over the Harry Potter books (Henry had given her a list of books she was steadily making her way through), “So what’s the answer?”

“The creature is spider, right?” Caroline asked, “It’s been awhile since I read them.”

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed. “So what kind of places do spiders like?”

“We don’t have to see spiders do we?” Karen pouted, “I hate spiders.”

“Agreed,” Caroline piped in. “And it better not be why we need our swim stuff.”

At the start of the trip, Killian had warned them to wear their swimsuits underneath their clothes during the day, cryptically warning them that they may get wet. He knew the man loved keeping secrets from them, just to see them squirm.

“Spiders live everywhere,” Angel scrunched up her nose in confusion, ignoring Caroline’s comment.

“Maybe we’re not supposed to take it literally,” Violet suggested. “I mean, it’s a riddle, right? So what place on the map has specifically to do with spiders?”

Angel studied it, “The map’s in Spanish or French or-.”

“Latin,” Caroline answered. “Gimme,” she snatched the map again.

It took all of Henry’s strength not to roll his eyes; of course Killian would write the maps himself and put them in another bloody language. He’d taught them bits and pieces during Saturday’s etiquette lessons, probably just enough that they could figure it out.

“This one,” Angel pointed, “means creature right?”

Caroline shook her head, “It won’t be that easy.”

“Octo means eight,” Violet supplied, gesturing at another point on the map. “Spiders have eight legs.”

Octo crura ludens.

Caroline grinned, “Nice one, Camelot. Ludens mean playing.”

“Good enough for me,” Angel shrugged. “Let’s go!”

***

“Ahoy, mates!” Killian greeted them as they approached a clearing, some kind of playground-gym thing next to him. “First ones, congrats!”

“Why am I not surprised?” Emma beamed proudly at him, causing Henry to blush. She and Killian were wrapped up in one another on a picnic bench, three large baskets next to them.

“Mooom,” Henry groaned, ignoring Violet’s giggle.

As adorable as it was, he acted offended by it.

Twenty minutes later, the last of groups had shown up, Killian and Emma sat them down for lunch, handing out sandwiches and crisps. Violet slid next to him, gently shoving Timothy out the way.

“Alright mates,” Killian hollered in his usual fashion after lunch (Henry liked to call it his ‘Lieutenant mode’), “As you can probably tell, the next task is more physical-”

The less athletic ones groaned.

“Don’t worry, a few of you can do this quiz instead.”

Yet another groan.

“This is a relay. Each person in the team will have an obstacle to complete, then pass on this-” he held up a small pouch, “on to the next person. As you can see, there are four obstacles and five or six teammates. Those who haven’t been assigned an obstacle will be doing the aforementioned quiz. When a person is done with their obstacle they may move on to help those doing the quiz. Any questions, or shall I explain each obstacle?”

A few hands went up. “Do we get to chose who does what?” someone asked.

“Aye,” Killian answered and that seemed to be the most popular question as half the hands went down. Karen’s was the only one still up, “Yes, lass?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

***

“Ok,” Angel clapped her hands after Killian's briefing. The tasks were fairly simple, and again you had to collect coins and put them in the pouch, only this time you could move on without them, but they got you points. “We won the last one, we can do this. First obstacle: tree climbing, who wants it?”

“I’ll do it,” Caroline volunteered, “I’m tall so that means I can climb faster.”

“Good enough for me. Monkey bars? Who things they can go back and forth three times without falling?”

“I could,” Violet offered.

“Perfect! Crawling under the net? Kevin, you’re small: how about it?”

He shrugged, “Sure.”

“I’ll transport the boxes,” Angel volunteered. “Henry, Karen are you two ok to do the quiz?”

Henry nodded, “No problem.”

“Alright team Firebolts!” she recited the nickname they’d given themselves after a lengthy Harry Potter conversation, claiming that ‘Group 5’ was too boring, “Let’s do this!”

***

Henry knew he had an edge when it came to the quiz: it was all things Killian ranted on about after meetings or...really whenever the subject came up. Karen knew what she was doing as well, her small size and quiet nature being more than made up for with her obviously tuned listening skills, as she managed to recite almost exactly what Killian said.

“Hey,” a red faced Caroline puffed, nearly collapsing next to them. “Your girlfriend’s up, Author,” she teased.

Peering up from the paper, Henry saw Violet dangling from the bars, a coin perched in her mouth. Despite her upbringing she looked perfectly at home here in the woods. She had substituted her usually classy dresses and heels for a cotton shirt and jeans with boots, her hair tied into two buns that were falling loose. Her face was marred with concentration and there was mud on her cheek.

To Henry she was gorgeous.

Somehow he managed not to get distracted long enough to plow through a few questions (with much, much prompting from Caroline and Karen). Henry was only alerted that Violet had finished with a forceful push on his shoulder as she rested next to him, face red and hair in disarray.

Needless to say he was a bit less focused on the task at hand after that.

***

Half of the group looked dead on their feet (and he should know) as he cheerily gave out the results of the second task.

“There are three categories to which I’ll be giving out points. The first one is the fastest group: Group 2.” There was a triumphant cheer.

“The most coins is split between two groups: Group 8 and Group 9.”

A larger cheer came up.

“And the most answer’s right, with full marks: Group 5 or,” he swallowed a laugh, “The Firebolts.”

“Yes!” Angel exclaimed, “Henry you genius!”

Henry flushed bright red at Angel’s praise and Killian bit back another laugh; of course it was Henry’s group. He tried not to be proud at that; he failed.

“Next task won’t be until later on. So for now, everyone back to camp!”

“More walking?” a tortured moan sounded.

Killian chortled loudly, “Come on you lazy lot!”

Unsurprisingly, the front group was a lot smaller this time.

(A chorus of “Join the Slackers” could probably be heard in Storybrooke)

***

“A night trail?”

“Isn’t it a bit light for a night trail?”

As he began to explain, Henry wondered if Killian’s smirk had left his face all day, “It’s not a night trail, per say, more like a blindfolded trail. It’s an exercise in trust. I’m sure you’re all sick of me droning on about the vitality of teamwork, but it will always ring true, and a critical part of teamwork is trust.” He began pacing, “In your groups, all but one of you will be blindfolded and you will have to complete a relay of sorts. There will be a bag of all the coins you have collected over the course of the day that you must pass from one member to the other. The first team there will have their coins doubled. The last will have them halved.”

Henry heard Timothy shout from the back, “How will we do it if we’re blindfolded?”

Killian sighed, “I’m getting to that. The one who isn’t blindfolded will be in a little hut Swan suggested to me. In there they will be able to see everything their teammates are doing and will be able to direct them through a…” he paused to search for the word.

“Headset,” his mom answered for him.

“Headset and camera. They will be responsible for guiding their teammates.”

Killian exhaled, “I believe that’s all.” He clapped his hands together, “Oh! I almost forgot! Emma and I will be choosing who the guide is.”

***

If he got out of this alive he swore to murder Killian Jones and Emma Swan.

Because of course he has to do the maze part of the course with Violet’s voice in his ear. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate? The answer was: he wasn’t. And he couldn’t even tell Violet that he hadn’t heard her.

“Henry? Are you ok? Wave if yes.”

He waved, trying to remember which way she’d said to turn.

“Henry! For the fifth time! Turn around; you’re at a dead end!” she snapped in his ear.

“Oops,” he muttered to himself. The maze was made up of low bushes and narrow pathways. He held tightly onto the pouch of coins, knowing that only Angel was left for the final sprint, and she’d probably kill him when he got there.

Because of course his teammates are hearing the exact same things he is. Of course they know that he seemingly fails at following basic instructions.

As he listened to Violet guide him, he allowed a new distraction to enter his mind:

How to murder two out of three parents and get away with it.

The author’s next bestseller.

***

They came second to last, and - as he suspected - Angel punched him very hard when the blindfolds finally came off.

***

“Well done to you all, mates,” Killian applauded as they readjusted to the light of the world again. “You’re coins have been counted, some added for the earlier tasks, and the winning group is…” His gaze grazed over the anticipating faces of the children, all eager to know if they’d won. “Group 8.”

“HELL YEAH!” a triumphant whoop came from the group. Some of the others looked downtrodden at their lack of victory, but a few just looked ready for some well deserved sleep.

As they sat around the campfire later on, he had his arm around Emma, the pair of them watching Henry. A friend of his in the winning group turned to him, “You upset you lost after you’re little victory streak?”

The boy (young man now - but he’d only ever see the boy he helped rescue from the grasps of Pan) simply continued looking at Violet, who had just begun laughing at something Angel said, and replied, “Not at all.”

Emma’s hand slid up to his heart and he glanced at her, joining in on the proud smile on her face.

***

If she thought how good he was with Henry was attractive, she was nowhere near prepared for how endearing being around these kids made him.

Needless to say him violently shaking her awake that night made him less so.

“Swan,” he hissed, “Swan, wake up.”

“Noooo,” she whined, curling her arms around him, “sleeping. You try.”

He chuckled, “Come on, love, wake up. I have a surprise for you.”

The childish wonder in his voice - so similar to what she’d been hearing all day - was what drew her out of the tent in the middle of the night to trek through the woods with him to whatever surprise he had planned.

“Are we nearly there yet? We shouldn’t go too far from the ki-”

“Relax, Swan.” He reassured her, “I’ve acquired the help of some of the older ones to be on alert. Now,” he stopped, turning to her, “close your eyes.”

“Seriously? This slope is really steep,” she cautioned.

He turned to her, a boyish grin lighting up his face, “Why, Swan, I thought you trusted me! Isn’t that part of this true love thing?”

Bastard. She grumbled, reluctantly closing her eyes, letting herself be guided by his hand and hook, “This ‘true love thing’ didn’t involve wandering through the forest without sight in the middle of the night. We’re not doing an obstacle course like the kids are we? Because we saw what happened to Henry with Violet guiding him.”

He snorted, carefully leading her forwards, “Ah, the bloom of first love. I told you: you can hide buried treasure, or - as you proved to me last week - a winning poker hand, but-”

“‘You can’t hide the bloom of first love’,” she quoted him. “God, I can’t believe he’s fourteen with a girlfriend.”

“Me either, love. Tree root,” he warned. She thanked him and he continued talking, “It seems like only last week he was just the young boy whom I offered to help rescue from the clutches of my old foe.”

The mention of Neverland brought back the memories of the death-trap island and all that occurred there. Thankfully, before she let them overwhelm her, Killian announced, “And here we are: open your eyes.”

Following his instructions, she opened her lids and was greeted with a sublime scene. Picturesque turquoise water filled the area beyond her line of sight. She was stood on a cliff, deep water below her. The rocks sloped down to the level of the water, From what she could tell, the water shallowed a bit further on, then got deeper again as the colour of the water darkened from the colour of Killian’s eyes to a navy - it was hard to tell; the twinkling water seemed to glow, and she suspected magic was part of it. Tall rocks creeped around the lagoon, protecting them from the wind. The most beautiful part of it all, however, was the lack of ceiling, revealing the stars to them, and all the constellations Killian had taught her over time.

“Oh, Killian,” she sighed,.“Wh-” she stepped out of his arms, eyes scanning the area, “How? What? When did-?”

“I take it you like it?”

“Like it!” Overjoyed, she gave him a firm peck, “It’s beautiful!”

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed. “I plan to take everyone here tomorrow for some water games. What was it? Water colo?”

“Polo, Killian. Water polo.” She beamed at him, “So this is why you told them to pack swimsuits?”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Now, don’t you think the two of us should test it out?”

“Now?” she questioned. “I left my swimsuit in the tent.”

She knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth what his response would be.

“Right you are, love. I would say that your undergarment are fine, but alas, we wouldn’t want to ruin them would we?”

“No,” she slid closer to him, fingers playing with the edges of his jacket, “I suppose we wouldn’t.”

“Hmm.” He wrapped his arm around her, hand finding it’s way between her top and bottoms, resting on her bare back.

“But we really should make sure it’s ok. I mean, it’s only being responsible.” She knew he had probably checked when he first found the place, but one hand had made it’s way to his heart, calmed by the steady beat of it, and she couldn’t help but play along.

“I may have a solution to that,” he stepped out of the embrace, throwing off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head. She followed his lead as he took off his jeans, leaving them both in their underwear. She couldn’t help the smirk that overtook her face: was she really about to go skinny dipping?

Stepping forward, she assisted him in removing his brace, and he returned the favour by popping off her bra. When they were finally both naked, he took her hand dragged her off the edge of the small cliff, splashing into the water.

When they arrived back at their tent that night they were both sticky in their clothes, but as they curled up around each other, neither had it in them to care.

***

His grandmother would be so proud.

Fifty-odd kids in the middle of the woods, packing up a campsite, whistling ‘Whilst while you work’.

He finished packing up his own tent, chucking it into the coach. Turning to an overly-cheerful Killian, he asked, “So, what are the plans for today?”

“Still not telling, lad,” he replied.

“Oh, come on Dad! Please?”

Killian merely shook his head, checking off everyone’s luggage.

Once they were all packed up, they left the coach where it was and headed off, following the two adults. After over twenty four hours the lack of wifi was starting to kick in, and everyone was a little moodier. Henry himself tried to stay a bit more positive, picking up speed to walk with his parents, dragging Violet with him.

When they arrived, there was a collective gasp at the sight of the lagoon. Henry turned to Killian, who merely wore a self-satisfied smirk.

“So this is why we need our swim stuff?”

“Aye, lad.” He pivoted around, addressing the group, “Alright mates! After all the hard work you’ve been doing this weekend I thought you deserved a little break. We’ll be here until it’s hometime so remember to have lunch at some point.”

“Where will lunch be?” asked Devon.

“I’ll put it with our clothes,” Emma announced. “We’ve got sandwiches, chips, chocolate bars, and some leftover marshmallows.”

Everyone groaned at that; the previous night there had been a little mishap whilst trying to teach Killian what s'mores are. Let’s just say that pretty much everyone there will be put of by the sight of a marshmallow for weeks to come.

Killian winced with the rest of them, before continuing to give instructions, “We’ll be doing some water activities later on if anyone wants to join in. And please, don’t go in too deep if you don’t feel confident enough. I’m sure none of us here want an impromptu rescue to take place.” He gave them one final grin, “Well off you go mates!”

***

After several hours of splashing, screaming, but thankfully no saving, the group were all more or less passed out on the coach. Everyone was sporting damp hair and exhausted yet content expressions.

Killian himself had some pride mixed in there.

Emma was pretty sure she did too.

***

It was late evening by the time they had dropped of the kids, all of them waving goodbye, giving their thanks and promising to see Killian at the next meeting.

Once Henry had shot off to Regina’s, Emma dragged Killian away, deciding to walk home, giving themselves time to reflect.

A few mishaps occurred but they were all laughing by the end of the weekend. After they got home she told him, “I’m proud of you, you know. You’ve had a real impact on these kids.”

He blushed, scratching behind his ear, “It’s nothing really, love.”

“No, it is, Killian,” she insisted. “If I’d had something like that when I was young, my career as a thief might have been briefer.”

Killian smiled at her, wanting to brush off her compliment, “Ah, but then we wouldn’t have Henry.”

“I don’t know,” she exhaled, “I think that the Author would have had to have been born no matter what.”

He chuckled and agreed.

#killian jones #henry mills #emma swan #captain cobra #captain swan #ouat ff #ouat fanfiction #ouat fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #my writing #sixteen fics

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