#and then return it dismayed when he realizes its about woodpeckers

[gin-juice-tonic]

maybe the long hike is part of the 4D chess 

[starspangledbanner27]

**CHAPTER UPDATE - Chapter 1 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers.  For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true.  However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions. 

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or below.

To Laura, Amber, Brittany, and Dr. Riley: Thank you so much for beta-reading my work and providing constructive feedback.  This story would not be what it is without your advice and encouragement.

To my mom: Thank you for always being there for me.  Posting my work was a big step, and I am immensely grateful for your loving support.

A/N: Readers, please note that as this story is an AU, the first two chapters will focus entirely on OCs.  That being said, if you as a reader are like me and prefer to jump straight to the parts involving canon characters, I will direct you to the middle of Chapter 3 (coming soon), in which my main OC meets Ralph at the airport.  Either way, I hope you enjoy the story and, of course, leave reviews! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Saving Mr. Banks, Mary Poppins, or any of the characters from those two movies.

Chapter 1

I am seated on a bench in the garden with a pencil held idle in my hand and my notebook lying on my lap, my eyes closed and my face turned upward to the summer sky.  A smile curves my lips as a soft breeze comes up out of the west to dance through my hair.  Somehow this all seems strangely familiar, yet I can't put my finger on why.

The breeze flutters around for half a minute, tickling my ear and stroking my hair, before leaving a parting kiss on my cheek and flying off toward the east.  But no, wait—its farewell was only a playful trick; it has now doubled back around to greet me once more . . . only this time, instead of caressing me gently, it bites my nose and pinches my ears, twirling my hair into a tangle as it careens westward.  And then, almost as soon as it returns, it is gone. 

Strange, I muse.  How odd for a steady west wind to suddenly stop like that and return from the east.  Wind's in the east . . . I can't help smiling to myself as I gaze up at the clouds, half expecting a certain British nanny to come floating down out of them carrying a carpet-bag and a parasol.  But my thoughts are interrupted by a sharp rapping noise. 

Knock-knock-knock!

I glance around, perplexed as to the source of the sound until at last I glimpse a woodpecker hammering away at a nearby tree.  I watch him with an inexplicable feeling that he doesn't belong here—that I have been here in this exact moment before, and he hasn't. 

Knock-knock-knock!

His persistent tapping disturbs me.  I wish he would stop. 

Knock-knock-knock!

“Shoo!” I cry; but he carries on with his task, unperturbed and undistracted. 

Knock-knock-knock! 

I shout at him and wave my arms wildly, but he ignores me. 

Knock-knock-knock!

The noise is exasperating.  I press my hands over my ears, but it remains as loud and clear as ever.  Why will he not cease?!  Why can I still hear it?!  Why is there no escape?!

Knock-knock-knock!

Knock-knock-knock!

Knock-knock-knock . . .

Knock-knock-knock!

I ascended out of dreamland long enough to wonder who was at the door, then promptly decided I was too tired to care.  Just as I was drifting back to sleep, my sister burst into my bedroom.  “Rise and shine, Carrie!”

“Mmph . . . what's going on?” I mumbled.

She threw the curtains open before coming over to kneel beside my bed.  “Today's the day, sis.  If you don't get up, you'll miss your plane.”

“What plane?”

“You’re going to Los Angeles, remember?”

At that moment it all came back to me—my book, Mary Poppins, Disney—and I sat up frantically, throwing the covers off.  “Oh my gosh, I forgot! What time is it?!”  I pressed my hand to my forehead, partly in panic and partly because the too-swift motion had given me a throbbing headache. 

“Shh . . . relax, Carrie.  It's only eight o'clock; you have plenty of time.  But you need to get up and get ready now.”

I nodded.  “Okay.”  I slid forward to the edge of the bed and waited, gathering my strength.  My sister watched for several minutes; and finally, when I made no move to stand up, she laid her hand on my back.

“Carrie . . . do you need help?”

“Maybe just a little,” I said without meeting her eyes.  I hated asking for help to complete such a simple task; yet at that moment I just didn't have the strength in me.  Fortunately, she understood; and without another word, she wrapped her arm around my waist and supported me as I dragged myself to my feet.  “Thank you,” I whispered. 

“What are sisters for?” she replied with a grin that somewhat alleviated my embarrassment. 

She stayed there holding me up long enough to let me find my balance.  At last I managed to take a few shaky steps over to my dresser and lean against it as I pulled open the door to my closet.  She stood there watching me for several moments, and finally she spoke again. 

“Are you okay now if I leave the room so you can get changed?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“All right.  I'll be out here if you need anything.”  Just as she was opening the door to go out, she paused and turned back to me.  “Carrie . . . are you sure you still want to do this?  Because you know in Los Angeles I won't be there to help you out of bed.”

Part of me resented her for saying that.  I'm not an invalid yet! I wanted to scream.  But deep down, I knew she was right.  I sighed deeply.  “I'll make it somehow.  I have to do this, Sam.  Otherwise I'll never get the chance.  Anyway, it's just the first few minutes of the day that are always the hardest; once I get going, it's not so bad.”

She nodded.  “Yeah, okay.  I'm going to head downstairs and make breakfast.”  But once again she paused and looked at me with soulful eyes.  “I love you, sis.”

“Love you too,” I replied, trying and failing to muster a carefree smile.  I turned away lest she see the tears in my eyes; and behind me I heard the door close as she exited, leaving me alone.  Drawing a shaky breath, I chose a dress from the closet and changed out of my nightgown, noticing with dismay that my body was going through the motions a little more slowly than yesterday or the day before. 

As I slipped my dress on over my head, I could hear the clanking of pots and pans down in the kitchen as Sam cooked.  The noise made something tickle at the edge of my mind—clanking . . . banging . . . knocking.  The woodpecker.  The dream.

That dream—it haunted me at least three times a week.  I couldn’t escape.  The sequence was always the same . . . except this time it had been interrupted by that blasted bird, which I now realized had sprung up as a dream-world manifestation of an actual sound—my sister's knocking on my door to wake me up.  I paused for a moment, considering that I ought to be thankful, for I knew what would have happened in the dream if I hadn't woken up.  Always the same, exactly as it had been on that first day . . .

No—I would not think about it, not on a day like this.  Today, of all days, I should be happy.  I am going to Los Angeles . . . the very thought sent a surge of energy through me, and I scurried off to the bathroom to finish getting ready. 

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, I descended the stairs, the smell of breakfast greeting me as I entered the main part of the house.  I stepped into the kitchen just as my sister, who was facing the sink, called out loudly, “Carrie! Are you almost ready?!”

“Hey, Sam,” I replied, amused.  She whirled around in surprise. 

“Carrie! I thought you were still upstairs!  Oh, gosh, I must have blown your ears out.”

“Well, at least they're still attached,” I bantered, but for once she didn't laugh.  Instead, she came over and wrapped her arms around me. 

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly, her voice betraying that she was close to tears.  I pulled away, unable to bear it. 

“Sam, since when are you so concerned about my eardrums?” I teased. 

“I'm sorry, it's just . . . I don't want to cause you any more pain than you're already . . .”

“It’s okay, sis, nothing to worry about.”

“But—”

“Sam, please.  You promised you wouldn’t do this, remember?  I told you, I’m fine.”

She nodded, turning back to the counter to wipe her eyes.  “Well, anyway, breakfast's up.”

“Ooh, yum!” I exclaimed, eager to change the subject.  “What's on the menu this morning?”

“Bacon and pancakes,” she replied.  Her voice was still quiet and sad, but I could tell she was trying to conceal it for my sake.  “Have a seat at the table, and I'll bring it in.”

“Well, let me help.”

“It's okay, I've got this.  You go sit down.”

“Sam . . .”

“You need to focus on getting ready, Carrie,” she said firmly, looking me in the eye, and I knew better than to argue. With a sigh of resignation, I headed into the dining room. 

The first thing I noticed as I sat down was that Sam's husband, who always joined us for breakfast, was missing.  “Sam,” I called, “where's James?”

“Oh, I sent him outside to check on the car,” she explained, bustling into the room with a plate of steaming pancakes and bacon. 

“What's wrong with the car?” I asked as she set the plate down in front of me. 

“Nothing, as far as I know,” she replied, “but we can't have you being late to the airport because of car trouble.”

I stared at her.  “It's a twenty-minute drive to the airport, and your car is in perfect condition.  What's there to worry about?”

“I'm not taking any chances, Carrie.  This is your special day, and I won't let anything ruin it.”   With that, she marched off to the kitchen, chin held high.  Once she left the room, I chuckled to myself and said a quick blessing before beginning to eat. 

Just then, I heard the front door open.  “Hey, honey, I'm all done!” James called as he shut the door behind him.  From where I sat looking through the doorway, I could see him enter the kitchen and lean against the wall, inhaling deeply.  “Mmm, what's for breakfast?”

“Pancakes and bacon,” she replied.  “How's the car looking?”

“Clean and healthy as always, just like I told you it would be,” he reassured her. 

“The tank is full?”

“Yep.”

“You changed the oil?”

“Already did that yesterday.”

“And you checked everything else?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.”  He moved to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.  “Sweet Samantha, haven't you learned by now to trust your husband?”

She turned to face him.  “A better question is, haven't you learned by now to humor your wife?”

He laughed.  “Touché.”  They stood there grinning at each other for several moments before he leaned in to kiss her, at which point I decided to remind them of my presence.  

“A-he-hem!”  I peered through the doorway at them.  “Guys, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to be at the airport in an hour.”

They pulled apart and looked over at me sheepishly.  “Sorry, sis,” Sam giggled. 

I sighed and shook my head in mock exasperation; but truly, I was happy for them.  They had something special, something I had always dreamt of . . . and something fate had chosen to deny me.  I felt a little twinge of bitterness at the last thought, but I quickly suppressed it.  It’s not their fault, I reminded myself.  It’s not anyone’s fault.

Before I could dwell any longer on this train of thought, James entered the dining room with a full plate for himself and one for Sam.  “So, Carrie, are you excited to spend three weeks in Los Angeles?” he asked as he set them on the table. 

“Excited?  Yes . . .” 

Detecting my slight hesitation, James caught my eye and smiled understandingly.  “Nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted. 

Sam walked through the doorway just in time to catch the end of our conversation.  “What are you nervous about, Carrie?” she asked, laying her hand on my shoulder.

I took a moment to swallow my bite of bacon before answering.  “Well, meeting Walt Disney, for one thing.  That man’s a walking legend, and I’m just . . . me.”  A thirty-year-old author from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, flying halfway across the country to act as consultant for a movie adaptation of my book.

“So?” James asked through a mouthful of pancake. 

Sam shot him one of her “you men can be so insensitive” looks before turning back to me. “Oh, Carrie, I'm sure you have nothing to worry about as far as that goes.  Remember, underneath all that fame, he's just another human.  Don't let yourself be intimidated.”

I gave a half-smile, and she patted my back encouragingly before sitting down to eat.  Easier said than done, I thought in regard to her advice.  I only prayed everything would go smoothly; for if it didn’t, I doubted I’d have what it took to face down the Mickey Mouse mogul himself.  

The three of us finished breakfast with time to spare; and while Sam cleared the table, James headed upstairs and brought down my suitcase and carry-on bag to load in the car.  I offered to help with the dishes, but Sam wouldn't hear of it; so instead I went up to fetch my purse and make one last trip to the bathroom.

After washing my hands, I leaned against the sink for a few minutes, staring into the mirror. There I was, about to spend three weeks in Los Angeles helping make my book into a movie, something many authors only dream of; and at that moment, the only thought in my head was—am I up to this?  The Carrie in the mirror stared back at me, her eyes full of doubts and questions; but before I could give either of us a definitive answer, I heard Sam call from the bottom of the stairs.  “Carrie! You ready to go?!”

Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight and squared my shoulders.  “Coming!” I replied; and without further hesitation, I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs.

Tag list… let me know if you want to be added or removed!   @iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

[amerart]

Divin/Rivi crossover story

Lost. The word rang in Divin’s ears, hung in the summer haze that surrounded him. At this point, he was too tired to panic, but the fact that he was lost still caused a twinge of discomfort.

The long-stemmed junegrass bent beneath his sneakers; everywhere he walked, clouds of tiny gnats rose up to meet him. The heat had risen considerably since he had set out that morning, but in true Killwin fashion Divin still wore his dark, iconic hoodie, holes in the pockets and patches sewn in the elbows.

His legs hurt, and he was feeling rather grouchy from missing lunch. The potato chips and trail mix had run out hours ago, and his water bottle was running dangerously low- he hadn’t seen a stream or creek for hours now.

Divin ran his hand through his thick, curly mop of hair, cursing it for being so adept at absorbing the sun’s heat and thus increasing his misery. He could hear his father’s voice in his head, pleading with him to wear a hat- he had refused, naturally. He wondered what the old man was doing right now. This late in the afternoon, he was probably out on the porch with a cool glass of applewater and a book. Paisely would be coming home from school right about now- what time was it anyway? With his pocketwatch buried somewhere in the bottom of his backback, he had no idea.

In every direction, as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but an amber-green sea of grass. Not a single bush, building, or wandering farmer- just miles and miles of gently waving blades. However, if he squinted hard, Divin could see a tiny patch of something dark green- trees, perhaps?

Whatever it was, it was bound to be infinitely better than slow roasting in this blistering heat. Divin set off down the hill, his sword clanking against his back. A gift from his father, it was nearly as long as he was tall. Again he heard his father’s voice insisting he take the sword with him, with a promise that he would grow into it someday- but for now, it was just one more piece of crap to drag around.

By the time Divin came within view of the trees, his hunger and thirst had reached a peak, and he was on the verge of passing out. However, as he approached, his despair only mounted- this was no familiar wood, and it seemed barely large enough to hold a few birds, much less any life-sustaining bodies of water. But he was desperate, and at this point he didn’t have much choice.

“Greetings, stranger.” Divin jumped as a pleasant, melodic voice reached his ears. He reached for his sword, but only succeeded in getting the blade a quarter of the way out of its sheath before it got stuck. He pushed it back and looked around.

“Um, greetings?”

 “No need for weapons here.” The voice said, and Divin saw that it belonged to a young boy sitting with his back against an old pine at the edge of the trees.

“Could you help me out?” Divin said, then remembered his manners. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble… I’m a little lost.”

The strange boy met his gaze, and he saw a round, kindly face bordered by rusty locks woven into a thick braid. His clothing was quaint and simple, nothing more than a faded brown blazer over a clean white shirt, and threadbare brown shorts. True to his word, he had no weapons to speak of, but he did have something far more interesting:

Jutting out of his back were two enormous, chocolate-covered wings, half-folded in a lazy, restful manner.

“You have wings!” Divin blurted out, then stopped himself. “Sorry… Didn’t mean to be rude I just… nevermind.”

The winged boy seemed unaffected by this comment, and smiled up at him. “Lost, you say?”

 “Yeaaah…” Divin stuck his hands in his pockets. “And I kinda ran out of food and water.”

The boy patted the ground next to him, indicating that Divin should take a seat. “So nice to meet a fellow traveler. My name’s Rivi, by the way. Rivi Redwing.”

“Divin.” Divin replied, still not quite sure if he could trust what he was seeing. The boy seemed friendly enough, but those wings… After a few moments of deliberation, Divin made up his mind and joined him under the towering pine. The area beneath the tree was cool and shaded, and covered in a thick layer of clover and wildflowers. Fat, lazy bumblebees staggered from flower to flower; cicadas droned like a series of endlessly ringing telephones in the branches above them.

“Lucky for you, I was just about to have lunch.” Rivi said, pulling out two sandwiches and large canteen. “So, traveler, what brings a youngster like you around these parts?”

Divin bristled. “I’m twelve.”

Rivi’s face split into a grin. “As am I!” He offered up one of the sandwiches, then took a bite of his own. “Say, you’re not a wanderer, are you?”

Divin eyed both him and the sandwich.“What if I am?”

Rivi swallowed, and his smile grew even larger. “It’s the most noble occupation there is, if you ask me. Nobody to tell you what to do, or where to go, just you and the open road. Am I right?”

Divin nodded, and decided that Rivi didn’t really seem the type to give poisoned sandwiches to strangers. He tasted fresh herbs and some kind of unfamiliar crunchy meat; the flavor was gamey and foreign, but it wasn’t bad.

“I don’t suppose you have any maps or anything?” He asked.

“Never had any use for maps, myself.” Rivi said. “Remi didn’t use ‘em, and neither do I.”

Remi? Divin decided not to ask.

“I’ve been all over Amadok and I’ve never even heard of this place.” Divin said, brushing crumbs off his pants.

“Amadok.” Rivi let the word rest in his mouth like candy. “I’m not familiar with that region, I’m afraid.”

Divin stared at him. “Then we must be in Yaire, right?” He tried to ignore the fact that Yaire was a month’s journey at least, and he had been walking for less than a day.

Rivi finished his sandwich, and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

“You’re in Omori, my boy.”

Now it was Divin’s turn to chew on an unfamiliar word. “Omori? Where the heck is Omori? I don’t remember seeing that on any of the maps…” He felt the twinge of anxiety return.

Rivi picked a daisy, and watched idly as a tiny green caterpillar inched across it. “You people and your maps… Why not just run free for a while?” He paused, gazing off into the distance. “Remi once told me that being a wanderer is different from any other trade. There’s no end goal to what you’re doing- no finish line to cross, no final destination… The wind tells you where to go, and so you go, until it tells you to stop going.

Divin picked up the canteen and took a sip; the water was clear and sweet. “I mean, I’d totally do that if I could but… I kinda need to go home. My dad’s waiting for me. He doesn’t like it when I go on these trips but I just get this feeling, like I HAVE to go somewhere, and-”

“If you don’t go, your feet will just drag you up of their accord.” Rivi finished for him, chuckling a bit. “Remi said the same thing.”

They were both quiet for a minute, lulled into silence by the monotonous droning of a woodpecker, mingled with the eternal hum of an invisible army of insects. Above their heads the trees whispered to one another, given voices by a slight breeze.

“You and Remi must be really good friends.”

“We were, and we still are.” Rivi replied, his eyes half closed. “His spirit guides me each and every day to new places, that he never got a chance to see for himself.”

“I’m… sorry.” Divin replied, not sure what to say. He was no stranger to suffering himself, but he couldn’t imagine permanently losing his best friend. He thought of his wolf pup, Ripburger, and his friends back home, and for the first time since he had set out, he felt a pang of homesickness.

Rivi opened his eyes and stretched with renewed vigor. “So, tell me again where you’re from, and maybe I can help you on your way.”

“Um… I live in Surrin, Amadok, with my dad and my sister- though, he’s not REALLY my dad, and she’s not really my sister, because of all these alternate timelines and...  “ Divin trailed off, realizing it probably wasn’t necessary to go into his entire life’s story. “Anyway, I’ve never even remotely heard of Omori, and I have no idea how I even got here.”

Rivi nodded, apparently understanding Divin’s rambling.

“Okay, I’m really sorry if I’m being rude, but I have to ask.” Divin blurted. “Are those real?” he pointed to Rivi’s wings.

“Oh yes, they’re real all right.” Rivi stood up slowly, and unfurled both his wings. They caught the light of the sinking sun, and in that golden hour, they looked as though they belonged to an angel in a cathedral, not this strange, soft, wandering boy. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Divin could only nod. Amadok had its wonders, but winged children were not one of them.

“Beautiful, but about as useful as a fish that can’t swim, to borrow a favorite phrase of Remi’s.”

“Useless?” Divin said, dismayed. He had been looking forward to a little display.

Rivi shrugged. “Let’s just say me and some of the local spirits aren’t on the best of terms.”

“I know how that is.” Divin agreed.

“Anyway, I suppose we better be finding you a way home then, eh?” Rivi reached into the pocket of his blazer, and pulled out a scrap of paper and a piece of charcoal. “I have a theory- I could be wrong, mind you, but it’s an idea

Divin leaned in, eager to see just what this grand idea might be.

“Seems to me you might have walked yourself right through a corridor.”

“A… what?”

“A walkway between worlds. Not exactly easy to just stumble across, but it does happen.”

“So how do I find this corridor thing again?”

The golden afternoon was turning a sort of peachy orange, as the sun set and the shadows lengthened. Divin played with a thread on the end of his sleeve, feeling antsy. The first crickets were tuning up, and birds called goodbyes to one another as they each headed to their respective nests for the night.

Rivi tapped the charcoal against the paper. “That’s the hard part. Now, can you tell me any of the landmarks you saw on the way?”

“There weren’t any!” Divin cried. “That’s why I got lost in the first place- there’s nothing but cheesecaking grass the whole way!”

Rivi remained cool and steady despite his outburst. “Okay…”

“Well, there was this ONE thing, a big rock, kinda shaped like a dog.” Divin admitted. “But I can’t remember if that was here, or back home in Amadok. Oh, and there was this weird old tree that someone carved a face into. Not a particularly good face either.” He added.

“I know that tree!” Rivi said. “It’s by that old burnt-out farmhouse!”

“Did you carve that face?” Divin asked, not sounding particularly pleased. The face on the tree had scared him senseless when he encountered it, and he still felt embarrassed even now.

“Maybe.” Rivi said cryptically. “Anyway, so I think I’ve figured out what you need to do.” He scribbled something on the paper, rubbed it out with his thumb, and then rewrote it.

“Walk back the way you came…”

All the way? Divin grumbled to himself.

“And when you reach the farmhouse, there’ll be a big, flat-topped rock there. What you need to do is stand in the center of it, and then…” Rivi handed him the scrap of paper.

“I am NOT doing that!” Divin said, upon examination of its contents.

Rivi shrugged. “You’re welcome to stay here then.”

Divin fidgeted and glared at the paper, indecision lining his face. Should he spend the night in a strange,dangerous country, or embarrass the heck out of himself?

“You should go home.” Rivi said softly. “Or your dad’s going to worry.”

“He worries about EVERYTHING.” Divin muttered. “I can’t even leave the house without getting a lecture.”

“He must love you a lot, then.”

Divin huffed. “I guess.” The paper had stained his fingers an ashy black from gripping it so hard.

“It won’t be so bad.” Rivi soothed. “Nobody will see you.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. You best be on your way now, before the night finds you…I’d walk you there myself but…” Rivi smiled softly and gestured to the woods. “A certain spirit and I are due for our evening conversation.”

Divin nodded and gave him a small, awkward smile back. He hadn’t made a new friend in a long time, and the thought was both comforting and bewildering to him.

“Do you think we’ll meet again, sometime?” He asked.

Somewhere above their heads, an owl let out a shrill, drawn-out cry.

“Perhaps.” Rivi said. “If the wind wills it to be so.” He stood up. “If not, well…” He stuck out his hand in an unfamiliar gesture, and Divin shook it, unsure of what else he was suppose to do.

“May Remi’s spirit guide you, as it has guided me. Travel safely, my friend.”

Divin nodded. They stood there a moment longer, then he was off. He looked back, to see Rivi waving after him; when he looked again, he had vanished.

Divin looked at the paper in his hand, then at the road ahead. Boy was he going to have a story to tell when he got home…

Home. The thought had never been more comforting.