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vannybarber · 3 years

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Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

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kookie-doughs · 3 years

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGGINING OF IT ALL

It was quite dark in my room. Unclear of what's happening... Of what's going on... But one thing is clear to me... Someone is calling me from somewhere. Tossing and turning doesn't help the anxiety building up at the pit of my stomach. Come to me I'm scared... Dont be scared. I would never hurt you Who are you? Fall... With me... I don't want to hear you anymore... We'll rule as one.... This is just a dream... Denying won't keep me... This is not real... We are one... I'm hearing things...

Tears pricked my eyes and I shot up trembling. As I thought all of those were just a dream. With what little time have I caught my breath. My alarm stared ringing 6 minutes after I woke up. D/N, my dog, nudged my hand and looked at me with his worried eyes. "I'm good boy... I'll be good. Today's the class trip... I have to be good." I ran down stairs to see my mom cooking breakfast. "Hey there sweetie. You excited for the trip~?" She sang. I reluctantly nodded. "Yeah..." As mom set D/N's bowl she turned to me with a worried look. "You sure? Your enthusiasm sure tells me how excited you are." "Will D/N be coming with me?" On cue my dad already in his suit came down and gave my head a kiss. "Of course sweetie. He's a support animal, they have no choice." He smiled. Taking a pancake from the plate, he didn't bother adding butter nor syrup and bit it like bread. "Anyways, I gotta go. Have fun at your trip. And I'll see you after work." He gave me and my mom a kiss then left. "Start eating. We have to make sure you don't miss your bus." ~ The bus was noisy. Everyone is screaming and laughing loudly. I sat at the very front with Mrs. Rudolph. She's my history teacher and our class adviser. She looks like a grumpy old witch lady who eats children, but her personality is far from that. Which seems to be not enough for my classmates as they're very bratty in her class. D/N was currently laid on Mrs Rudolph's lap as she gently pet him. "Are we close yet Mrs Rudolph?" I asked. She gave me a smile, "yes quite close. In fact, it reminds me to remind you kids something." Picking up D/N from her lap she gently placed him on mine and stood up. "Attention!!" She yelled immediately changing from her soft demeanor. They kids instantly settled down and kept quiet. "Good, now... Is everyone aware of where we'll be going?" "Yes Mrs Rudolph..." We all reply. "And where are we going?" No one answered. I could sense she was about to get mad so I answered on my own. "Metropolitan museum of art..." "Good job Y/N!" She smiled at me and glared at the others. "We'll, I'd like to remind you lot that we won't be touring alone. Another school will be joining us, Yancy Academy! Now I wouldn't be the one supervising the tour, it'll be Yancy Academy's Latin teacher, so we need to show them we are capable and proper. I'm putting Y/N L/N in charge of the group. Listen to what she says and do participate when asked." Whispers started coming once again. I've always been Mrs Rudolph's favorite. It's not like she has a choice, I'm the only proper one among her students after all. "Keep quiet!" In an instant the whispering died. "I will not hear anything from your mouths about Y/N being in charge! She'll have the same power as I! If you have a problem speak louder and say it to me! Understand?!" "Y-Yes Mrs Rudolph..." The bus then stopped moving. "Y/N..." Mrs Rudolph rested an arm on my shoulder. "Lead them." She smiled and went out. I cleared my throat. "E-Everybody file ou-out properly an-and orderly... P-please." Grumbles and mumbles came from them as they did what I said. Once everyone was out I got out. I had D/N in my arms. The first thing I did as I got out was examine everything. From the distance, you could see the students who I assume are from Yancy Academy. A particular group had caught my eyes. A redheaded girl was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in a guy's curly brown hair, his friend was clearly agitated by what's happening and had balled his fist. "Y/N L/N." Mrs Rudolph called snapping me out from the trance. "H-Here!" "Okay so everyone is here. Remember, Y/N L/N is in charge. Now go mix with the Yancy kids." Mrs Rudolph clapped and almost immediately everyone ran towards the group. She walked up to me and pointed at D/N. "Dogs aren't allowed inside sweetie I'm sorry. We tried telling them." A whimper came from my boy as he scoot closer to my chest. "It'll be fine boy. W-would you... Mind?" "Not at all. I was going to offer after all." She smiled and took D/N from me. "Now run along and make friends. He'll be with you by lunch." I turned to see my classmates only to see them instantly making friends with the strangers. I could never do that. Getting closer I searched curly brown haired guy and his friends. A man had called our attention by clearing his throat, not giving me the chance to find curly guy. It was a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket. "Everybody file." I said which thankfully they followed. "Hello to everyone." He gave us a comforting smile. "I'm Mr. Brunner, Yancy Academy's Latin teacher. I was told Y/N L/N will be in charge of your group?" I stepped up and greeted him. "All right. Well, feel free to mix in with the group. We'll be staying for a while." He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was listening to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, only one kid had been trying to keep them quiet and he keeps getting glares from someone who looks like Mrs Rudolph every time. Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Finally, a snicker came from behind, and a kind of loud reply of, "Will you shut up?" Came. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. The guy who had said shut up was the friend of curly. "Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "did you have a comment?" His face was totally red and he said, "No, sir." Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?" I looked at the carving, and back at the guy who looked relived. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" "Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well... Kronos was the king god, and—" "God?" Mr. Brunner asked. "Oh uh..." He stammered. Obviously his one mistake got rid of all the information he remembered of the image. "Titan," I reminded him a little too loudly. They all had turned on me. "Ms L/N, care to help Mr Jackson?" "I-I, he knows... I don't..." I turned to Mr Jackson who looked at me as if he needed help. When he mouthed please I gulped. "H-He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them..." As if he had a moment of epiphany, Mr Jackson looked at me and Mr Brunner. "Can you continue on Mr Jackson?" "Okay, Kronos's wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—" "Zeus fed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him puke his other five children, who were immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach." I interrupted... Oh god was that rude? "Eeew!" said one of the girls behind us. "—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," he continued, "and the gods won." "The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld." I continued. Some snickers from the group. Behind us, the red haired girl mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'" "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" "Busted," curly guy muttered. "Shut up," Ms Bobofit hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." "I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "How about you Ms L/N?" I shook my head frantically not sure of what to say. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson, Ms L/n, You both did well. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, Mrs Rudolph, would you lead us back outside?" The class drifted off, the class still mixed with the other. "Want to join us for lunch?" Mr Jackson offered scratching his head. "Uhm..." My face was heating up I never had friends before. I was about to reply when I heard a loud whimper from outside. It was D/N's cry. "I'm sorry." I said and ran towards the sound. They were about to follow when Mr. Brunner called, "Mr. Jackson." Running outside I searched for D/N. "Hey boy, where are you?!" I called. Not long after I found him by the fountain alone. "Oh god, what are you doing here alone? Why were you crying? Weren't you with Mrs Rudolph?" I cradled him in my arms and lied on the grass. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Red hairedgirl was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Rudolph was with her look alike. "Hey," someone had looked down on me. "Sorry I ran. I heard D/N cry..." "Percy, Percy Jackson." He smiled. "Huh?" "I'm Grover Underwood." Curly beamed. "O-Oh... I'm Y/N L/N, this is D/N." He barked in response to the introduction. "Really?!" Grover looked at D/N in surprise. "Can I borrow him?! Please??" Me and Percy looked at him weirdly but I handed him D/N anyways. Grover sat on the edge of the fountain, and Percy and I close enough but not an earshot away. "Detention?" I asked. "Huh?" "Did you get left behind for detention?" I asked him. "Nah," he said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius. He thinks I know everything about Mythology and stuffs." "I think you are." I smiled at him. "You're pretty smart." "Yeah, well this genius is dyslexic." He smirked. "No way." "Way." "I am too!!" "What?" "Okay we're totally dyslexic twins now." I chuckled. "Totally." Being the awkward kid I am my stomach had to growl. "Want to have my apple?" I felt awkward and took his apple. "Thanks." We watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and had small talks about random stuffs, we ranged our topic from his past schools, to his mom, Nancy Bobofit the mean redhead, and Mrs Dodds his mathematics teacher. Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Percy was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap where D/N sat. "Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos D/N tackled her down, not biting her but barking at her not letting her up. And Percy tried to held his laughter in. Nancy screamed at D/N and tried to hit him. When she had successfully hit him she glared at me then the dog. "This stupid dog!" She then kicked him. When his whimper came out. "Hey?! What do you think you're doing!?" I screamed. "You don't know how to control your stupid dog!" "You dumped your lunch on him he had every right to mount you!" Grover had D/N now cradled in his arms. My teeth were gritting at the sight of this redhead. I was about to lift my hand on her. I don't remember what happened clearly, but I was pretty sure the water grabbed her, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!" "No he didn't you liar!!" Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—" "—the water—" "—like it grabbed her—" I didn't care about the whispers. All I knew was that Percy was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on Percy. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if he'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—" "He didn't do anything! Why are you punishing him?! Weren't you watching what was happening?!" I glared at her. Staring straight in her eyes. I don't know where I got this confidence and everything but I am starting down the teacher Percy is most scared of and winning. "I'd like to apologize for the bad conduct my student had affected yo---" "Nancy Bobofit is in the wrong not Percy! She. Hurt. My. Dog." I could hear the poison laced in my words. Mrs Rudolph came to me, "sweetie, let's go back in the bus. We have to leave." She took D/N from Grover and dragged me away from the scene. "But----" "Ms. L/N, we'll miss the schedule. Let's go." As if D/N knew he jumped off from Mrs Rudolph's hold and ran. "D/N!!" I didn't bother saying anything to Mrs Rudolph and ran after him. "Y/N!!" She tried calling after. I had lost D/N a few times and I found him. He was barking and growling at something. I went to check and saw Percy swing a sword at a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs... She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. "Percy?" I called. His sword was gone and there was a ballpoint pen in his hand. His hands were still trembling. "W-Was th-that... D-did..." "Percy," I slowly walked up to him and pulled him to a comforting hug. "Calm down. Breathe. I... Also saw that. You're not imagining things alone." We went back outside. D/N leading us. It had started to rain. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I said, "Who?" "Our teacher. Duh!" We blinked. "We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr." Percy said. He asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. We went over to Grover to ask where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?" But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at Percy, so we thought he was messing with us. "Not funny, man," he told him. "This is serious." "I am concerned as well..." Grover looked at me in surprise. "A-about what?" "About... Mrs Dodds? Percy and I saw something really disturbing." Thunder boomed overhead. Percy then let go of me and went over to Mr. Brunner who hasn't moved from his spot. I immediately followed after. He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson." Percy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. "Sir," he said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at him blankly. "Who?" "The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." I added. He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, Y/N, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" "W-What?" "And Y/N, Mrs Rudolph is very worried about you. You just ran away all of a sudden. Your bus is about to leave." I turned to Percy reluctantly. "I'll walk you..." "This... Can't be a real..." I gasp. "Okay if this is real, then we'll never meet again and we were really just imagining things and this is a coincidence." "Agreed..." "Percy, I know what I saw. I know what I remember. We'll meet again, and when we do... I have a feeling it'll be weirder." "I'll look forward to it."

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#Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson X Reader #Fanfiction #Y/N L/N and the halfbloods #Y/N L/N #Book 1 #Lightning thief #Chapter 1 #Percy Jackson X Y/N #X Reader

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curious-shadow-cat · 3 years

Text

Ghosts PG2

The next morning Luigi woke up to Polterpup licking his face. He waved his arms blindly.

Luigi:"Alright! Alright! I'm awake! Hahaha." He pet his dog and wiped his face with the other hand. He went into the bathroom and took a shower. He knew this was going to be difficult. Hopefully they don't end up fighting before he finds another vacuum. He was smart enough to hid that gem away from King Boo before going to bed. He made sure Polterpup kept him distracted while he hid it somewhere too.

Luigi finished cleaning up and dressed up into a green shirt, with a blue jacket and dark blue grey pants. His old clothes were ruined and he needed new ones. At least his hat was alright though. He left the bathroom and jumped as he saw King Boo looking through his closet and under the bed. He frowned and crossed his arms."Looking for something?" The ghost looked up quick.

King Boo:"Alright, where'd you put it?" He flew over to him."Where's my gem?" Luigi shrugged.

Luigi:"I don't have it. I put it away so you wouldn't try any of your tricks!" He said with a glare. The ghost growled.

King Boo:"Well then how am I suppose to help you in case we're in trouble?" He asked annoyed.

Luigi:"Oh don't play dumb! I've seen you fight even without your gem! If you think I'm stupid enough to give you that then you better think again!" King Boo gave him a cold glare. Luigi flinched a bit but he wasn't planning on talking. Which made him angry. Boo was so close to Luigi's face now that they were touching noses. Well, nose to....face? He couldn't tell if Boo's had noses or not.

King Boo:"Alright fine then! You better hope you find a vacuum before I find my gem because when I do, you're going in a painting!!" He backed off and his eyes widened after realizing what he said to him."I mean uh....whatever. I don't need it anyway." His arms dropped low. "Let's just hurry up and find my Boo's. I miss them already." He grumbled and left the room going through the door. Luigi swallowed. He and the ghostly dog looked at each other. Then the door opened and they looked at King Boo."HMPH!" He slammed the door which made the room shake. Luigi sighed looking unpleased by this. This is quite the situation he put himself through. Him and King Boo? Working together? He just hopes this doesn't end horribly. Polterpup licked his face and flew out of the room. He followed after him.

After grabbing something quick to eat for breakfest, the three left the castle and went exploring around the kingdom. Luigi went to the nearest store and grabbed whatever items he needed before going on their way. King Boo decided to wait outside since he didn't want to end up scaring the owner off. Most of the Toads were fine with Polterpup since he's known to be really friendly towards everyone. Every Toad seems to run off screaming at the sight of King Boo though. But some stuck around since he was with Luigi. Still frightened of course. They all looked confused and scared and wasn't sure what was going on. This made King Boo chuckle and laugh every time they'd run away screaming. Luigi left the store and he saw that he was holding two star cookies. He held one up for King Boo. He blinked and rolled his eyes but took the cookie anyway. He ate it in one bite and flew past Luigi. He kept his nose up in the air and once again said "Hmph!". Luigi ate his cookie in three bites. Polterpup was happily walking beside them with a gold bone in his mouth. Luigi spoke to some of the Toads asking if they saw any dangerous traps near by. They didn't hesitate to answer. They quickly told him that they saw traps almost everywhere this morning around the castle and in the park. Just then they heard some Toads screaming and they ran past them making Luigi spin and made him fall over on his butt. King Boo growled.

King Boo:"Hey watch it!" He yelled. He looked in the direction they ran from."I'm gonna take a guess that that's where the park is, right?" He asked Luigi who's eyes were still spinning at the moment. The impatient ghost shook his head and picked him up by his arms.

Luigi:"WHOA-WHOA-WHOA!" He flew up high in the air quickly."AAH!"

King Boo:"Oh hey! It's the park!" He said with a grin."And, by the looks of it, covered by those annoying traps. Ya know, the ones that took my Boo's!" He growled.

Luigi:"T-t-t-that's g-great! Can you p-put me d-down now?!" He asked. Polterpup was still on the ground chewing on his bone but keeping watch.

King Boo:"Hmmm...." He smirked and then let go of Luigi.

Luigi:"I DIDN'T MEAN DROP MEE!! HEEEELP!" He shrieked in terror just before he closed his eyes and expected to hit the ground. Instead, he heard his dog panting as if he was right in front of him. He opened his eyes and saw that he was floating in the air near the ground. Polterpup licked his face and barked. He looked up and saw King Boo who started laughing.

King Boo:"Gee, maybe next time you should be more specific, buddy!" He flew up high in the air once more but this time Polterpup flew after them. Poor Luigi screamed again as he was being carried to the park.

The park was a mess. There were ghost traps everywhere. Luigi gasped when he saw that some of the Toads were injured.

Luigi:"Oh-no! Quick! We gotta help them!" He ran but then Boo grabbed Luigi by the shirt.

King Boo:"Hey genius, how are we suppose to go near those things without touching them?" Taking another look at the traps, they looked like bear traps. They were purple with large aqua blue colored teeth. When the next Toad tried to run past the trap, it opened it's mouth and let out a large electric net that caught him and shocked him until he fell to the ground knocked out. Luigi yelled out in fright.

Luigi:"Toad!" He was grabbing his hair trying to figure out what to do.

Polterpup:"Bark! Bark!" They looked over and saw the ghostly dog next to a dark blue dumpster with Bob-ombs inside. Luigi itched his head.

Luigi:"What the...?" They looked different. Their eyes were black, they were green with brown shoes. King Boo looked just as confused as Luigi did. He tapped his chin.

King Boo:"Who the heck put those Bob-ombs here?? That's dangerous! Does Peach even know about this??" Luigi gave him a look. He blinked. "What? It's not that I care, I'm just annoyed that Peach judges my way of ruling when she let's her Toads place Bob-ombs by a park!" He crossed his arms looking annoyed. Luigi picked one of them up and started winding it. The eyes glowed blue and it started ticking. Luigi quickly rushed over to one of the traps that opened it's mouth and he threw it in without hesitation. It closed and he heard something click just before it exploded. Luigi rolled backwards and stopped flat on his back.

Luigi:"Ugh....that's how we get 'em..." He sat up and rubbed his head. King Boo picked one of the Bob-ombs up.

King Boo:"Oh this'll be fun." He grinned. He flew over one of the traps and when it opened it's mouth to trap him, he threw in the bob-omb and it exploded. King Boo flew over Luigi as he laughed."Oh let's make a game out of this shall we? This is easy!" Luigi smiled a little.

Luigi:"Uh, well, okay--"

King Boo:"If I get the most points, you give me back my gem!"

Luigi:"What??"

King Boo:"Ready?"

Luigi:"W-wait!--"

King Boo:"GO!" Boo picked up two Bob-ombs and flew away. Luigi quickly ran with one of the Bob-ombs and threw it into the next trap. Polterpup was next to a ghost board with Luigi and King Boo's name on it. He had chalk in mouth and was wagging his tail. While King Boo was destroying the traps, Luigi was also helping the Toads out of the traps and dragged them to the nearest tree.

Luigi:"Don't worry, we're here to help." He ran back and the two continued to destroy traps while Polterpup kept up with the score. Luigi and Boo were nearly caught again but managed to help out each other.

The Sun was setting when they finally finished. The traps were destroyed to pieces and smoke filled the air. Luigi was lying on the ground trying to catch his breath. He looked tired and sweaty. He had some scratches and dirt on him. King Boo flew in a circle around him.

King Boo:"I win! I win! I win! Bow before me green loser!" He laughed and stuck his tongue out at him."Now, about my gem..." Luigi sat up quick and glared at him.

Luigi:"Hey, now hold on a second! I didn't--"

Polterpup:"Woof!" They looked up at the dog and saw the board. The dog pointed out that saving the Toad's added points by 10. King Boo only saved one Toad. Luigi saved five. There's a drawn crown over Luigi's name, pointing out that he won!

King Boo:"WHAT?!" He snarled. Luigi jumped up and started cheering.

Luigi:"I won! I won!" He held out his hand to King Boo."We did it though! We saved the Toads! That's what's most important!" King Boo looked at his hand and then at Luigi before rolling his eyes.

King Boo:"Yeah, yeah." He said with a frown. Luigi frowned. Polterpup ran over to one of the Toads and licked his face.

Toad:"Huh-what?! Ew! I'm awake!" He wiped the drool off his face. He looked up at Luigi and smiled."Oh hi--WAH!!" He jumped up when he saw King Boo."W-what's he doing here?!" He pointed at the annoyed ghost King. He picked up the Toad.

Luigi:"Whoa-hey--"

King Boo:"I'm looking for my Boo's. Have you seen them or not? And do ya know anything about who's been leaving these traps every where?" Toad started shaking his head quickly.

Toad:"N-no, no, no! I haven't seen any Boo's! Honest!" King Boo growled and dropped him."Ow!" King Boo backed off as Luigi helped Toad up on his feet."Thanks for saving us Luigi! Um...but where's Mario? And Princess Peach? Are they going to do something about this?"

Luigi:"Oh, uh..." He itched his head."They're kinda busy--"

King Boo:"Your Princess and Mario are on a more important meeting with Bowser." He said quickly.

Toad:"Huh?! Bowser?" He said with a worried look. The other Toads were now awake and didn't look too happy by this news either. Luigi tried to get him to be quiet but he continued.

King Boo:"So Luigi and I will be taking care of things until they return and I get my Boo's back!" Luigi smacked his own forehead.

Luigi:"Oh-no..." The Toads got up and ran away screaming "We're doomed! AAHH!". King Boo smiled and looked at Luigi.

King Boo:"Well that was easier than I thought." He chuckled. Luigi shook his head and walked over to one of the pieces of the traps.

Luigi:"Hm...? What's this?" He noticed that there was a strange looking logo on it. It was a skull with what appeared to be a flame over it's head. Luigi showed it to King Boo."Do you recognize this?" He asked. King Boo looked at it for a moment. He shook his head.

King Boo:"Unfortunately, no, I don't." Luigi put the piece in his pocket. He saw that King Boo was floating away from him.

Luigi:"Where are you going?" He asked as he quickly followed him.

King Boo:"To continue looking for my Boo's, what else?" Luigi and Polterpup walked side-by-side.

Luigi:"Hey we never discussed what I would get when I won ya know." King Boo was quiet but then he sighed heavily.

King Boo:"Okay, what? What do you want now that you won? But I can't make anything appear at the moment without my gem just so you know." He said clearly still thinking about the gem. Luigi placed his hand on his chin and thought about it. Polterpup was hoping he'd get him another gold bone. He wagged his tail at the thought.

Luigi:"Well, you could tell me what exactly you were doing near Peach's castle." The ghost's eyes widened for a second before he immediately sped up away from Luigi.

King Boo:"I told you, I was looking for my lost Boo's..." He said quickly. Luigi raised a brow and quickly caught up to him.

Luigi:"Why would you be looking for them near her castle?" He asked looking confused. King Boo flew in a different direction.

King Boo:"I thought maybe they'd be....haunting her? I don't know! I don't keep track of what ALL my Boo's are doing! Gah!" He stopped when Luigi popped up in front of him from a bush.

Luigi:"But your Boo's don't usually go that far from you unless you tell them to." King Boo glared at him and pushed him in the lake behind him. "AH-" He fell on his butt in the water and it went up to his neck.

King Boo:"Oops! Sorry 'bout that!" He chuckled."Why don't you go back to the castle and change while I go around and see if I can find anyone that knows what's going on around here!" He took off before Luigi could say anything. Luigi huffed clearly mad about this. Polterpup helped him out of the water and licked his face. He wagged his tail.

Polterpup:"Bark! Bark!" Luigi pat his head.

Luigi:"I know, buddy. He's acting weird, huh?" He asked with a smile. He frowned again."You keep an eye on him for me alright?" The dog hopped around and took off after King Boo.

Later Luigi was back at the castle and was changed back into his usual clothes. It was nice of the Toad's to fix him up some new ones since the old ones were ruined. He smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror. He jumped when he heard his phone ringing. He relaxed a little and answered it.

Luigi:"Hello?"

"Luigi!" Mario spoke."Hey bro! Uh...we might take a little while getting back home. Everything alright?"

Luigi:"Mario! So far things aren't too bad, we--" He heard someone scream Mario's name in anger in the distance."What was that?"

Mario:"Oh you know, Bowser. Hey Bowser! I'm on the phone at the moment!" He yelled. He heard him roar.

Luigi:"Is everything okay??" He asked worried.

Mario:"Oh yeah! Totally! I got this--WHOA!"

Luigi:"Mario?!" He waited for him to answer.

Mario:"HA! Ya missed me! Uh sorry Luigi! Gotta go! I'll call ya later!" He hung up.

Luigi:"Mario?! Hello?? Aw..." He put his phone away."I didn't even get the chance to ask him about the logo...well I hope the Princess is okay." He itched his head and wondered what he should do next. Should he call Professor E. Gadd...? What would King Boo think though? He looked around the empty room. Well...he wasn't here right now. Perhaps he could call him about the logo and see if he knew anything about it. He took out the broken piece of the trap and looked over the logo before calling him up.

E. Gadd:"Professor E. Gadd speaking!" He said in a cheerful tone.

Luigi:"Hello Professor E. Gadd!" He said with a bright smile on his face.

E. Gadd:"Luigi!" He yelled happily which made him nearly drop his phone."How are you my boy? I haven't heard from you in a while! Heheh, usually it's I who calls YOU to help me with some ghost catching! So what's going on? Got some ghost problems? Need a new invention? Coffee??" He asked quickly.

Luigi:"Uhh, I was wondering if you know anyone else making ghost traps? There's this logo on them of a skull with a flame over it's head."

E. Gadd:"What?? Never heard of 'em. But I'll let you know if I find anything."

Luigi:"These traps are all over Princess Peach's Kingdom! Me and--uh...Mario were caught in those traps! It's not fun at all."

E. Gadd:"Hmmmm...." He went quiet."This could be a problem."

Luigi;"Yeah! No kidding! Luckily I found some Bob-ombs and managed to get rid of some of those traps today! I'm pretty sure there's still more of those things."

E. Gadd:"That's great! Keep up the good work! Let me know if you need anything. I'll see if I can find anyone making those traps. Take care!"

Luigi:"Thanks Professor! See ya." He hung up. He turned around.:"WAAAIII!!" He flew backwards and hit the wall. He stared at an angry looking King Boo. He looked ready to eat him right then and there."Uhh, w-wait! I can explain!"

King Boo:"Don't try and fool me! You were talking to that old man weren't you?!" He yelled. Polterpup was behind him and he didn't look too happy either. He whined a little.

Luigi:"It's not what you think! I was just--"

King Boo:"Just WHAT?!" His voice boomed."Asking him for that gross vacumm?! So you could take me out, huh?!" He was in his face now. Luigi looked in his eyes and could see how angry he was. He put his hands up slowly.

Luigi:"No, no, no, no! I-I-I was asking him ab-b-bout the logo! If anyone knew about ghost traps, it would be him, right?" He was scared out of his mind. He wasn't sure what he was going to do next. The ghost growled and backed off.

King Boo:"I guess!" He yelled after throwing his hands in the air. He looked at him again."I just stopped by to let you know I found more of those stupid traps." He said angrily. He seemed like he wanted to put him in a painting but he sighed heavily and left the room after once again slamming the door. The room shook."Just hurry up and get out here!" He yelled. Luigi and Polterpup looked at each other. The dog whined before he left Luigi to follow King Boo. Luigi slapped his own forehead.

Luigi:"Great..." He wasn't sure what to do now. He glanced down at the phone wondering whether or not he should've asked for that vacuum.... He shook his head. No time to think about that now. He left the room and quickly ran after King Boo and Polterpup.

#King Boo/Luigi #Luigi fanfic #Professor E. Gadd #Polterpup #Mario #Princess Peach #Bowser #Toad #King Boo #Luigi #long post

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randowolfwriter · 3 years

Text

Rocking that Solo (Intro)- Hot Dog Dilemma

Just a little one-shot from my self indulgent Older Warners au. Might consider doing more of these if it gets enough interest.

Summary:

A hot dog vendor meets the strangest girl (or puppy) he’s ever seen. Little does he know, she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

She was a weird child. Probably one of the strangest the hot dog vendor had ever seen.

At first, he figured she had really poofy hair tied back with a sparkly heart-shaped hair tie, but then she approached him and saw that it wasn’t hair, but a pair of really large ears. Rabbit ears maybe? Then he noticed that she appeared to be covered in fur, ink-black with the exception of white that covered her entire face with a red nose that looked awfully a lot like a cat’s. When she smiled, he noticed tiny little fangs that made up her canines, and when she stepped back for a bit, he noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes—she didn’t need any. Giant white paws were what she walked on all day, much bigger than her front paws that looked more like hands. Then the key indicator of her strange appearance was that she had a tail, a long black one that was hard to determine whether it better belonged on a cat or a monkey. She could have been an animal that just escaped from the zoo had she not been wearing a giant purple sweater with a jean skirt and asking him tons of questions like any girl her age would ask.

Yes, this indeed was the strangest little girl the vendor had ever seen, and yet, this wasn’t the first time she had visited him that day.

“You seem like a pretty cool guy,” She beamed through what appeared to be a Liverpool accent. “I’d love to have your job.”

“What are you doing back here?” The vendor barked. “Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”

“But I know where I am, so how can I get lost?” The girl inferred.

“I told you, I’m not bringing down the price of a dog.”

“But ten dollars is a little much, don’t you think? If I ran a hot dog cart, I would give everyone in the world a hot dog, and then I’d have the rest for myself.”

“Listen, little girl?” The vendor leaned over, trying to size himself up in order to intimidate her. “Are you gonna buy a dog or what? I haven’t got all day.”

Not once did she flinch from the vendor’s harsh demeanor, instead she kept smiling with a glimmer in those dark beady eyes of hers. “Well, I probably won’t since they’re so pricey. I just thought you should know that one of your cart’s wheels is missing.”

“What?”

The vendor tried to examine the wheel from where he leaned, but unfortunately, he couldn't. It was one of the front ones, which led him to move his lazy self to examine it. Clear as afternoon it was missing, despite it was there this morning when he wheeled the cart through the park. He only had a few customers that day, and none had bothered to mess with those wheels. In conclusion, it seemed that not only was this little girl strange, but she was also a wheel thief.

“Alright, where is it?” He grumbled.

“What?” The little girl asked coyly.

“The wheel? What did you do with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He could hear his voice raise at the girl’s bewildered expression. “I know you have it!”

“I swear I don’t-- well, I mean I don’t swear because Daddoo says it’s not nice to swear-- but I know I don’t have it. Here, I’ll show you.”

She then reached into the pockets of her skirt and pulled out a bunch of trinkets and trash she had collected over time. “See, I have a bobby pin, two pennies, a piece of lint, a heart sticker…"

As the vendor was preoccupied with the girl, another child appeared behind the hot dog cart. Just like the little girl, he had long ears that drooped like a puppy’s, white fur on his face that covered his black fur like a mask, a red nose, and beady black eyes that made him look more animal than human. The only distinction that he was more human than animal was a green sweatshirt he wore (yet he didn’t wear any pants.) The boy stuck out his tongue nervously as he watched the little girl prattle on to the hot dog vendor about the items in her pockets; it seemed like she had a lot for just two measly pockets.

Seeing that the vendor was distracted, the boy began piling hot dog packs, bratwurst packs, hot dog bun packs, small bags of potato chips, soda cans, anything he could get his paws on and threw them into a random sack that he pulled out of nowhere. Well, more like from behind him. But how he made a sack appear from nothing was really something.

Meanwhile, the girl did everything she could to keep the vendor’s attention on her at all times.

“See, I don’t have it. I only take things that can fit in my pockets,” she explained.

“Fine, so you don’t have it,” the vendor grumbled once more. “But how is it that it hasn’t been missing all day, and then suddenly you show up, and it’s gone?”

“Don’t know. Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

The boy was taking an awfully long time. Every time he grabbed a hot dog packet or a bratwurst packet, his stomach lurched – the thought of eating meat was the bane of his existence.

Suddenly, the mustard bottle slipped out of his paws just as he reached for it, and rolled right in front of the girl and the vendor. To make matters even more awkward, the vendor stepped on the bottle and it squirted a dark yellow onto the pavement.

“Huh? How did that get there…” The vendor turned and finally noticed the boy. The boy let out a startled gasp and shivered where he stood.

“Um, hey! Wanna see me do a dance?” The girl chirped, trying to divert the vendor’s attention back to her. She then performed a couple of twirls seeing if that'd work, but it was too late. The vendor had already noticed the thief at his stand, her partner in crime.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” The boy immediately closed the sack and scrambled out of there. “You have to pay for that!”

“Run, Smakko!” The girl cried as she raced after him. As the boy sped off like a frightened hare and the girl caught up to him in seconds, it was clear that the two were related.

Twins.

She was the distraction, and he was what the hot dog vendor should have been looking out for. Now here they were, little dog-monkey rascals that were better off locked up in a zoo than running away with his product.

“When I get my hands on you two, I’ll make sure you’ll get what’s coming to you!” He roared after them.

“But you have to catch us first!” The girl shouted with a giggle.

All through the park, the vendor chased after them. The chase felt like it went on for hours with the kids’ insane energy and the vendor’s determination to get his product back. It wasn’t until the kids ran smack dab into an officer minding his own business that they were finally caught. Immediately upon collision, he grabbed the two kids by the scruff of their clothes and held them up like noisy kittens, mostly pertaining to the girl who kicked in defiance while the boy hung there like a wet rag.

“Are these two giving you any trouble?” The officer spoke in what also appeared to be a deep Liverpool accent. He sounded a little like Ringo Starr. For some reason, upon hearing the officer's voice, the girl settled down.

“You bet! Those mongrels there stole my hot dogs!” The vendor exclaimed, pointing a large index finger at the two.

“Not like you were using it anyway,” The girl spat.

“Those two need to be taken back to the zoo where they belong!”

“No worries, sir. I’ll take care of them,” The large officer said, eyeing each of them with a stern glare. “Now give the man back his dogs.”

The boy then handed the vendor the giant sack. It seemed lighter than what he thought it would be. “Well appreciated, officer,” the vendor thanked.

He gave the vendor a small wave, “No need for thanks. All in a day’s work." Then he gave the kids another stern glare. "Let’s go, pups.”

For some reason, as the officer walked off with the two kids curled in his arms, they seemed too content for having just been apprehended. Well, the boy still had that fearful look in his eyes as if it was stuck that way, but the look on the girl’s face was one that was not expected; she seemed too happy.

The further the vendor walked away from them, the more he realized that the officer himself looked kind of strange. He looked like any other big officer just patrolling the city and keeping the neighborhood peace, yet then he remembered his face...something was off about it. It was pale, almost like it was covered in fur, he had a big red nose, and he had beady black eyes, just like those kids…

Suddenly, he stopped and opened the sack to find that his cart’s product wasn't in there, just a bunch of stuffed rubber dogs that squeaked.

He’d been duped. Those weird kids and that weird officer were all related and they made off with his hot dogs. He wasn’t going to let them get away with it that easily. The vendor ran right up to them, his face red as the ketchup bottles that were just stolen.

“Thieves!” He screamed at them. “Who do you think you are?”

The officer then stopped and set the kids down, “Well, I know for a fact that I’m no Bizzie.”

Suddenly, he tore off the hat to reveal pierced dog-like ears sticking out of a baseball cap that looked like it had been beaten up over the years, especially with that giant bite mark that ate half its bill. Long unkempt black fur-- or it might have been hair-- flowed past his shoulders, while some even jutted out from his hat. Underneath the uniform, he wore a blue sweater covered with a brown leather jacket, torn jeans, and giant white paws that he walked upon just like the two kids. In likeness, this man could have been a rock star had he not had the black and white puppy-dog face like the kids and stuck out his tongue to compliment the look.

“What are you?!” The vendor shuddered in bewilderment. He couldn’t decide whether he was some mutated dog or probably the ugliest man he had ever seen.

“Why he’s my Daddoo, silly!” The girl giggled. “I’m Jojo,” then she pointed towards the boy identical to her, “and this is my brother, Smakko." Then she held out her arms and posed, while her brother seemed hesitant to follow suit. "And we’re the Warner twins!"

“I don’t care if you were the Olsen twins. I demand that you give me back my hot dogs this instant!"

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” the man referred to as ‘Daddoo’ asked, “but that wouldn’t happen to be your cart, is it?”

The vendor then turned to see his hot dog cart speeding right towards them. Without a moment to react, the vendor was hit right with the cart and sent flying down the path while the father and his children moved to the side just in time. Luckily for the vendor, the cart didn’t go right into the busy streets of downtown traffic, but it did crash him into a nearby tree, causing the poor man to see hotdogs flying over his head.

“Look sir, your wheel came back,” Jojo pointed out.

“Yes, I see that,” the vendor said dizzily, then passed out.

“Naughty kids,” the father scolded, “who taught you such awful manners?” Then a giant smile appeared on his face, his tongue sticking out once more.

“Now what do you say to the nice man?”

“Thanks for the hot dogs, sir!” Jojo thanked with a wave.

“Thank you,” The boy named Smakko only muttered.

The hot dog vendor perked up from his short comatose just as the father, with both of his strange puppy kids, the girl clinging to him like a koala and the boy clutching the bag filled with his product, walked away. No doubt about it, this was a horrible day, both personally and economically.

But really, why did it matter? The vendor's cart was surprisingly okay, despite the crash and the strange reappearance of the wheel. Not to mention, there was a lot more product than what the family made off with, but losing those profits was going to hurt him. He'd have to lower the price of those dogs, and bratwursts, and basically everything at his cart just to make up for the stolen product.

He went to authorities about it, but all they did was laugh, except for one, who seemed to shake in his seat at the mere mention of puppy-kids. Like they were going to be any help.

Eventually, the hot dog vendor had to shrug off this brash occurrence and continue with his business. People were still going to want hot dogs, and unfortunately be desperate enough to pay ten bucks for it.

However, this strange moment like a fly in the ear returned to him one day when he was visiting his family. His nieces and nephews were busy watching an old cartoon that he remembered was on when he was a kid called “Animaniacs,” which was considered one of the greatest cartoons of the decade. Of course, he didn’t think much of it now that he was a man in his thirties, but during this particular viewing, there was something that stood out to him.

The three main kids, with those long ears, black-furred with pale white faces, those red noses, and those beady black eyes…they looked exactly like the kids that harassed him at the park. Not to mention, the boy wearing the baseball cap looked exactly like the timid boy who barely spoke a word during their encounter. The boy in the show brimmed with confidence compared to the shy nature of the boy who had the gall to steal his hotdogs, yet had his sister do most of the talking.

Then another thought occurred to him. The father of those two children also wore a blue sweater, and his head was covered with a red cap similar to the boy’s in the show, except his was worn with age. Then there was that smile, that puppy-dog-looking face with his pink tongue sticking out as if to distract from the fact that he was a freak of nature. He also brimmed with tons of confidence. How could anyone go out in public looking the way he did, with that long unkempt hair, those piercings that bit at his ears, and the strange rock star vibe he gave off just by being near him?

No, it couldn't be. But maybe?

Could possibly the middle child, the hungriest, the quietest, and the wackiest of the Warner trio next to his chatty older brother and his sassy younger sister might have grown up into the man he encountered at the park? That strange man with his strange children who were also giant troublemakers like he was. Could possibly the father of those two twins might have been…

Wakko Warner?

#animaniacs #rocking that solo #wakko warner #jojo warner #smakko warner #animaniacs 2020 #older warners au #animaniacs ocs #abbs writings

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thisentertaining · 3 years

Text

As the Blue Spirit Howls - Chapter 3

STORY SUMMARY:

Zuko was not a good shifter.

Azula could switch between her wolf and human skins between steps. Not Zuko, he needed several minutes before he even started the shift, and that was on a good day. If it had been Azula who Animal Control found in that alley, they would have walked away convinced that their eyes had played a trick on them. There had never been a dog there.

But Zuko’s long transformation would have only revealed his kind to the world. Father may think he has no honor, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as that. Even if that meant being dumped in animal shelter, trapped as much by the 24/7 security cameras as by the cage bars.

He had the worst luck. -

“Come on guys!” Aang said as he lead his friends through the clamoring barks of the shelter. “I want to show you my favorite dog! He’s a sweetheart.”

Aang lead the pair to where a monstrous beast of a dog was growling with raspy barks loud enough to drown out the rest of the shelter. His bright white teeth contrasted against golden eyes and a bright red scar that stretched over the side of his face as he lunged against the cage door.

Sokka laughed nervously. “Did the word ‘sweetheart’ change meaning when I wasn’t looking?”

Chapter 1

Chapter 4

Read on Ao3

“He’s actually being a pretty good dog.” Katara said as Zuko paused to sniff on a bush right outside the door. Her leash was lightly looped around her wrist, as was Aang’s. The other boy had a death grip on the ugly nylon.

“Maybe hold that judgement after we’ve been walking him more than five seconds, sis.”

The girl scowled at her brother. “You know what I mean! When we say him going crazy in there, I didn’t think he would ever calm down. Especially not this quickly.”

“He’s really a good boy!” Aang said. “Once he calms down at least. He’s just kinda... spirited at first, but look how happy he is to be outside! Now he’s all wags, no growls.”

Zuko flicked an ear and took a longer sniff at the bush. As the first plant directly outside the shelter, it was covered in… messages from other dogs. Fairly typical. Mostly healthy, some fear or aggression but not much. It was a pretty good shelter. You know, assuming you were actually a dog. He wasn’t enjoying his time.

The good thing was, he now had plenty of examples of 'good-dog' behavior to copy. He thought back on what made a 'good dog' that would convince them to take him home. First of all, he couldn’t actually escape. Not pulling on the leash at all would be suspicious (not to mention a test of self-restraint that Zuko knew he could never pass) but he had to make sure not to pull so far that he was actually at risk of escaping.

Second, he had to put away any lingering pride he’d managed to retain. Dogs were… silly. Foolish. They played games and begged for attention and touch and made messes. He hadn’t acted like that since he was a child with his mother. If he’d even done it then. He doubted it though, Father would have disapproved.

He eyed one of the other dogs as they were bundled into the car of a little girl with large, poofy pigtails. The English Bull Terrier pup wiggled happily in her lap as he went on to his forever home, licking the giggling child’s face. Zuko sighed impatiently as the children holding onto his multiple leashes continued to talk instead of actually walk him anywhere. He couldn't act like that. This was going to be impossible.

A new car pulled up as the girl with the bull terrier left. This one was fancy, new, and streamlined. It was the kind of money that almost never darkened the halls of a shelter. Despite himself, Zuko watched with interest, curious at who it was. When the door opened and a familiar scent wafted out, he felt a growl start rumbling at the base of his throat, going steady at the sight of the familiar girl exiting the luxury car.

The teen’s behind him stopped their chatter, Aang kneeling beside him hesitantly and running a soothing hand down his back. “Hey bud, you okay?” He pet Zuko with steady, careful strokes that would have calmed any actual dog quickly, but the beast’s steady growl didn’t falter. “It’s okay boy, you’re okay. You’re okay. Guys do you-“

“What are you doing with Snarly?” A young, feminine voice demanded.

Aang looked up, seeing a short unfamiliar girl in green overalls and a matching headband standing over them. Despite being several inches shorter than the rest of them, she seemed to tower as she crossed her arms and scowled.

“Snarly? Do you mean Blue Spirit?”

The girl scoffed. “That’s a stupid name. Naming a dog after a bar? Can you say ‘lacking imagination’?”

Behind Zuko, Sokka hummed. “Snarly does kinda fit him better.” The boy mused, ruffling the top of his head. The dog snapped at the hand. Nowhere close, but enough that the teen jerked his hand back.

Well. Being a good dog was going great.

“Exactly.” The girl said with a grin as she reached out and pet his head just as Sokka had. The boy made a noise in warning, but for her Zuko simply turned to that his unscarred side was by her searching fingers. “That’s why he’s my favorite. I can always tell where he is.”

The Avatar and his friends shared a confused glance at that comment before realizing as one that the girl hadn’t looked at them once through the whole conversation. Filmy-white eyes stared over their heads as the girl tucked the previously-unnoticed cane under her arm and knelt to pet Zuko with both hands. “Don’t tell him though.” The girl continued with a wicked grin. “Don’t want him getting a big head.”

Zuko barked in protest, never once halting his continuous rumbling growl.

Aang perked. “Does that mean you’re here to adopt him?”

The girl, Zuko had never gotten her name, frowned with a heavy sign. “No. My parents won’t let me. They’re worried that getting another dog would distract Badger-Mole.”

“Right, right.” Sokka said, “And that is a…”

“He’s my seeing eye dog. And it’s stupid because tons of people with guide dogs have pets too. I even asked the trainers, and they said it’s perfectly fine. He’s trained to work with distractions. But no.” She drug out the word sarcastically. “My parents know better than the professionals.”

“That stinks.” Katara said genuinely.

“Yeah. But whatever. Apparently, he was adopted anyway. Sorry I yelled at you, I know they said that it would be hard to find him an owner so I overreacted. Probably not a great way to convince people to keep a dog.”

“Probably not.” The Avatar laughed. “But it’s okay. We aren’t adopting him though, just fostering so that he can be in a home until someone does come to adopt.”

“We are talking about foster- you know what, I give up.” The eldest boy sighed. “I know we’re getting the dog.”

The girl scrunched her nose before eventually shrugging. “Fine, as long as he’s out of Long Feng’s grubby hands. That dude gives me the creeps.”

Zuko barked in soft agreement as the other kids laughed.

“Name’s Toph.” The girl introduced herself, sticking a hand out nowhere near the other three.

Katara moved to take and shake the hand. “My name is Sapphire.” She lied. Zuko’s ears perked, recognizing that the name was very different from the one that the others had used for her earlier. If he was to complete his mission, learning their false names could only help.

“Wang,” Sokka added with a useless wave. Zuko committed the false name to memory.

Aang jumped to his feet to shake her hand. “I’m Kuzon. It’s great to meet you. We’re going to take Spirit-“

“Snarly.”

“For a walk if you want to come with.”

The girl’s head cocked to the side, as though listening to something. After a moment, she simply shrugged. “Why not?”

From behind them, a loud clearing of the throat sounded from the front of the car, where a driver glared at them from behind a window. Toph sighed explosively. “Give me a second, I have to go check in before my busy body parents call the shelter.”

She stomped her way into the building, cane swinging wildly as she grumbled.

The group watched her, Aang’s hands still running down Zuko’s back as the growling petered out. “Awww,” Aang cooed. “Such a good boy.”

“That’s really impressive though.” Katara cut in. “He realized that she was blind and made sure that she could hear him. He must be really smart.”

Sokka made a disagreeing noise. “He probably just realized that she was happy when he was growling, gave him extra treats or pats or whatever and accidentally trained him to growl. Dogs can be taught to do anything these days.”

Zuko was offended. As he wasn't an actual dog, he wasn’t sure he should be.

“It’s still smart.” Katara argued with the passion of a sibling arguing against another. “He’s only been here a week or so and already trained himself to do that? That’s really smart for a dog.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. He’s a dog, he was trained to do a trick. Congratulations, you and Pavlov can compare notes.”

Aang glanced between the pair nervously. “Calm down, we don’t-“

Katara wasn’t listening. Zuko was just hoping that she wouldn’t have the same resources his sister had when angry to sit on. “You are such a-“

“Fight! Fight! Fight Fight! “ Toph chanted as she made her way to the group. She had a leash coiled in her hands, and when Zuko started growling again she managed to find his collar and attach it with little fumbling.

The other teens scrambled to explain their argument, but Zuko was getting tired of waiting. With a loud bark, the wolf started towards one of the walking trails, dragging Sokka, who had somehow wrapped the leash around his wrist enough that his was significantly shorter than the others. The boy yelped.

“Well, guess we’re going.”

“Sorry buddy.” Aang laughed. Zuko flicked an ear towards him but otherwise ignored the apology. He stuck to the cement path running through an open field rather than the wooded paths that called to his wolf blood. It wasn’t because that would be easiest for Toph. Really. He’d barely even noticed that. Really. He just thought that if the path was easier they would talk more and he would get more information out of them.

Really.

That was it.

“So, if you can’t get another dog, why are you at the shelter?” Sokka asked the stranger.

“Volunteering.” The girl answered, “Duh. I’m homeschooled and I was going absolutely insane sitting at home every day. I was sneaking out but,” She shrugged. “I knew eventually that they would realize that those pillows under my blankets weren’t breathing. I threatened to run away for real if they didn’t find a way to let me out of the house sometimes, and so.” She shrugged. “A compromise. For now.”

“That’s cool.” Aang said sunnily. “This is a great shelter, I come here every Tuesday and Thursday to volunteer too! I’m kinda surprised that we hadn’t seen each other before, but I’m usually here a lot earlier.”

That was good information. Wait. Was it though? If Zuko revealed himself or ‘ran away’, he probably wouldn’t come back. But it did mean it was a time that he was alone and out of their house fairly consistently. If Zuko could arrange for someone to go after him at the right time…

He really wished he had anyone he could trust to do that without taking the glory for themselves and leaving him out to dry.

Okay, so that wouldn’t work. But it still would be a good thing to know. This wasn’t going well. He wasn’t getting any good information on his actual targets and- rabbit!

Zuko stood stock still, nostrils flaring as he followed them to see a fluffy furry brown ball chewing at a clump of clover in the corner of the path. He ceased the low rumbling he’s been admitting since Toph joined, going stock still as he crouched into a predatory stance. Ear’s up, head close to the ground, feet carefully placed, Zuko slowly stalked forward towards the entirely unaware prey creature.

A predatory wolf’s blood was running through his veins, begging for the chase and hunt that he had been denied for the weeks he’d spent in a form born in it. He licked his chops, ignoring the babbling distractions behind him as the predator centered on prey.

“Hey!” Aang suddenly yelled behind him with a laugh. “Run Bunny, Run!”

Startled, the rabbit took off. With a growl, Zuko lunged after it, jumping forward on strong, muscular legs. There were a myriad of cried behind him as the group was sent sprawling by the force of his leap, but as the shelter administer had said, he couldn’t exactly drag four people across the yard. Well, he could. He was strong enough. He just wouldn’t be fast enough to catch the rabbit so what was the point?

He stopped after a few steps and whined as the rabbit disappeared into the woods.

Toph, miraculously the only one to keep her footing, laughed uproariously. “Why did you think it was a good idea to make the rabbit run, idiot?”

“Oops.” Aang mumbled from his place on the ground.

Sokka spit out a mouthful of grass. “Well. Are you ready to sign some papers? This seems like a great idea.”

#avatar: the last airbender #ATLA #fanficton #MY FANFICS #Zuko #prince zuko #Aang #Sokka #Katara #Toph #Werewolf AU #Modern AU

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mistkissedmoon · 4 years

Text

Blankets made of Trust

“You have one night to decide”. Jason felt the words thrum through the air on loop before slamming into him, nearly knocking him over as he clenched his teeth until the words in his mind became an indecipherable ringing in his ears. You’ve got to be kidding me. One Night to decide whether I want to become a zombie or an attack dog?! He thought furiously. He wrenched his head up and caught the warning stare of the Bat through the bulletproof glass - Who called him again, Jason thought scathingly - who raised an eyebrow. Careful, he seemed to be saying. Don’t talk, or I’ll take away all your options. Options? That was a fucking joke. There was no other option! The Lazarus pit’s madness had been growing more overwhelming by the hour, and if he went without some kind of spell he would become a mad serial killer. At the same time, what they were proposing was out of the question. Jason scoffed and turned to stare out between the thin bars of his cell. It was a damn miracle the idiots hadn’t been broken into already, most of their walls being made of glass, he thought sourly. It’s not like they leave a guard behind when they fight.

“Red Hood. Did you hear that?”

Jason snapped his head back and levelled his most threatening glare at Nightwing. The idiot puffed his chest out and gazed at him like he thought he was actually intimidating.

“Yes.” He gritted his teeth and forced out the next words; “thank you.”

Batman - you poor excuse for a father mentor, Jason thought bitterly - motioned for everyone to exit his cell and they left without a backwards glance. That self-righteous Bat, the lapdog golden boy and the rest of his fantastic five crew including his replacement left- how humiliating low, to be replaced and then judged, in every sense of the word, by both my brothers him, while he stood in a cell that only had a toilet, sink and bed - with that absolute bitch of a magician. When everybody had left, the door of the enclosed witness area clicked shut, the scrape of a lock echoing soon after. Jason’s head fell back against the wall as he let his breath out explosively.

“Anyway,” Zatanna had said, glancing meaningfully at Batman, “I can definitely block the Lazarus madness, but seeing as he is a criminal I think we should add a few rules to the spell.”

Of course, their pet magician would insist on a few more rules being thrown in; Jason would lose the ability to kill, there was a ‘code phrase’ to make him do whatever they say (paranoid old bat and his lousy replacement) and Jason would hold the spell up with his own energy stores, making him tired easily. Lap dog or Rabid beast. Jason grimaced, closing his eyes to stop the burning sensation just behind them. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don’t, he thought grimly. A flash of purple light had his eyes snapping open in shock as a figure with an armload of objects materialised in the shadows of his room. Jason tried not to stare as the residual smoke revealed the objects to be a shiny diadem, an old - and well preserved, he noted approvingly - tome as well as a few bottles of what seemed to be softly glowing…somethings.

“Hey there, lucky little ravenclaw. You coming out? What's up your ass?” He inquired tiredly.The figure - Raven, he remembered- looks like a literal shadow, clad in a deep blue cloak that seemed to suck at the very light around her until she was little more than a barely discernible silhouette against the dark walls. All the same, the way she carried herself made him think of a sorceress or queen of old from the books he used to read. Heck, maybe even a goddess, like she’s saying ‘I have made a decision, and nothing you say or do will stop me’. Like she wasn’t thinking about how much care that book deserved or whether she should consider giving it away.“I’ve made a decision,” She answered in a low, musical voice. “And nothing you say or do will stop me.” Well. That was serendipitous. “I’ve thought about what Batman wants Zatanna to do to you, and…” Raven hesitated. “I don’t think that this is right.”

Dully, Jason wondered if she would ever gain the courage to do more than just voice her disapproval with Batman’s methods. If any of these ‘heroes’ would. Probably not; there must have been a reason she worked here, after all.

“I’m willing to offer you an alternative solution; I can cast a spell on you instead.” Her words were delivered with complete certainty, taking an subtle breath and squaring her shoulders afterward. Pure unadulterated rage sprang to life within his veins. Jason’s face rearranged itself into a truly ugly, fearsome expression, his muscles tensing in preparation for a fight.

“So, what? You’re just going to put your own spell on me before she does?” Jason spat bitterly.

“No. I’m going to -”

“I’m not going to be your slave, or anyone else’s, for that matter. You can tell Zatanna that, too.”

“I don’t want you to be my slave. I want you to pick and choose the words of the spell that will seal the Lazarus away, so I can, with your consent, cast that specific spell on you.”

Jason’s eyebrows decided to try defying gravity to fly into his hair. After a startled second, he barked out a laugh. He crowded the female titan against the wall and glared down at her, clenching his hands. To his annoyance, she seemed apathetic to the point of boredom.

“Give me a break, sunshine. In what universe would the golden boy -”

“Don’t call him that.”

“The Bat’s loyal bitch-”

“Language.”

“-ever send you to free me without stipulations?”

“As far as I know, none. Which is why I am here of my own volition, without his knowledge.”

Raven swept passed him and laid her belongings on the bed. Jason’s eyebrows held an unanimous meeting and promptly decided to retry their earlier flight. “What?”

Raven paused her idle flipping of her book to spare a dry glance at him. “Are you hard of hearing, Jay-son?” she carefully enunciated. Jason scowled.

”Forgive my surprise, oh smart one. I’m just surprised you of all people would go against his back. You aren’t ruled by your emotions, and you always do what your leader says -” Raven twirled around to face him suddenly, something flickering in her eyes, gone before he could decipher it.

“I don’t do what Nightwing tells me to do. I do what I think is right.” she corrected, a hint of soft rebuke in her tone. She resumed her flipping of the books pages until she reached her goal and moved on to sort the eerily glowing crystal bottles.

“And helping a convicted criminal is part of your moral obligation, is it?” Jason slouched against the wall, raising his hands incredulously.

“Helping anyone and everyone who truly needs it is a part of my moral obligation.” Raven declared proudly without hesitation. Was this girl serious? One look at her face and Jason knew she clearly was. “I understand you heroes think all killers were beyond redemption.” He commented with wry amusement.“You shouldn’t stereotype.” She said coolly, “Or tell your assumptions to a hero, who happens to be a demon.” Jason paused, mulling that revelation over. It was common knowledge among those who fought in the same circles as him that Raven’s magic was uncommon. Several unscrupulous magic users he talked to had fearfully claimed that her energy was ‘demonic’. Jason silently apologised for rolling his eyes or dismissing these accounts as fanciful or exaggerations and resolved to buy any of them drinks if he happened to see them again. “Besides, it’s usually unwise to be so presumptuous of a person you desperately need help from.” “What makes you say that?” He parried defensively, scratching his chin. “For all you know, I could have broken out and found another gullible magician to give me a few potions or something.”

“But you won’t. You’ve already tried, and none of them were powerful enough.” She supplied bluntly. “I..” She looked away, almost shamefaced, “I felt it.”

She… what? Ah. Right. Empath, he suddenly recalled, wincing. He was good at concealing his facial expressions, but nothing could have masked the sheer desperation he felt when he showed up at their door. Merde. He must have looked like such a fool for trying to seem like he didn’t need her help.

“I’m not trying to control you, Jason. The book is a dictionary; you can pick and choose the words you want me in the spell and I’ll perform it.” Her soft, persuasive tone urged him to believe her.

“Why should I believe you?” Jason snarled, lashing out with a feeling of vicious satisfaction upon seeing her take a step back. “What if this is one of Nightwing’s tricks to rummage around my head gathering intel?”

”I will not enter your mind - that’s not necessary at all in this circumstance - and if I do, you can easily overpower me while I am in a trance.”

“What use would that be? Then we’d both be in here, and I can add resisting arrest to my list of crimes.”

Raven looked like she was having difficulty stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She waved her hand, magically unlocking the cell door. “Are you always this paranoid?”

“No. Just when I’m in the headquarters of sworn enemies and about to be magically lobotomized within twenty-four hours - not to be rude, but at least a third of your colleagues have tried to send me to Arkham asylum.” Jason reminded her flatly, crossing his arms.

“Exactly! What do you have to lose!?”

“My life. Also, I’m doing fine. I could easily break out of here if I wanted too.” Raven looked pointedly at her spell book, exaggeratedly feigning patience. Jason’s lips twitched, satisfied. Annoying her was fun.

“Although I appreciate your sense of derring-do, I really must insist I block the madness trying to make you go on a killing spree before you leave.”

“While telling Nightwing all the extra little details you’ll happen to hear while we talk, huh?” Jason’s eyes bored into her, suddenly agate-hard. It really isn’t fair, he thought suddenly, that Raven could so easily try to deceive me like this. Life wasn’t fair. Jason knew this, and didn’t understand why he felt like crying right now. It must have been the stress. Or the Lazarus pit. It certainly couldn’t be anything else, since he’d been lied to so many times before and he’d generally been unbothered. In fact, he had started expecting certain people to lie about being on his side and had taken to wearing a doubly reinforced Kevlar suit. It had saved him from knives in the back - literally - more than a few times. The bruises still hurt like a motherfucker, though. Raven slowly took out her communicator - and slid it towards him.

“There. Now I can’t contact him in any way. Is that all?” He bent down and slowly picked it up. Jason thought about it for some time. He disliked any kind of spell on him, especially spells that would be permanent and affected his mind, however positive the effect might be. All the same though, it was necessary and Raven was giving him as much freedom that he could want. Something akin to grudging respect; or gratitude welled within him.

“Fine.” he complied gruffly, resisting the stupid urge to thank her. “I just have to pick out words in this book, right?”

He strode over to the tiny cot and picked it up, carefully not taking his eyes off her nor touching the freaky looking vials. “What’s the language - oh, right, English is this half of the page. Okay, this should be easy enou- no. Stay where you are. I don’t want you to move while I’m reading this book.” She threw him an exasperated look and disregarded his command, sitting beside him and leaning against the headboard.

“Of course, Jason. Would you like me to hold your hand?” she asked sardonically. “That should be reassuring enough, shouldn’t it?”

Jason ignored that, trying to concentrate on being irritated with her instead of the thought of his hands, warming and covering her tiny ones. He cleared his throat and tapped several words in quick succession to distract himself. “Would those words work?”

Raven, he learned, had a incredibly wide vocabulary and impressive command of tone. She could add inflections that added entire volumes of meaning of her words. On the whole, though, he would have preferred a less exhaustive running commentary of the kind of gruesome implications his miswording could cause. In retrospect, he realized that he should have chosen to ‘block’ the madness, instead of ‘concentrating’ it in his head, but Raven took great pleasure in describing the resulting explosion that would cause. Raven went on to describe - very unnecessarily in his opinion, the other various failings that would stop his heart, give him wings on the sides of his heads and cause his face to erupt in highly painful tentacles in glowing terms with apparent relish, never mind that any one of them was good enough reason to reword the spell. Raven tended to overdramatise certain things, he noticed. Especially things that would result in giving him a terminal injury, which, ha, he was sure wouldn’t be permanent this time over, either, especially if the Lazarus was still in his system. He said as such to Raven, who promptly whacked him over the head with her book - ow, it was heavier than she made it look - and told him to “focus, you leather-skulled domnoddy.”

“You aren’t afraid of me? I’m apparently a very unhinged serial killer, after all.” Jason grumbled half-curiously, rubbing his complaining skull.

“I could ask the same of you. I’ve never met someone who was so calm upon learning about my heritage. I’m practically a descendant of lucifer.”

That- That was something he had not considered. “If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization.” Jason quoted, shrugging.

“Well said.” Raven said after a pause.

“I’m afraid I can’t take credit - a quote by Robert Green Ingersole. I’m more than willing to share his belief when it comes to you, though.”

“That’s kind of you. Although, I think you give the serpent too much credit. I like to think we would have eaten the apple eventually anyway.”

‘We’ he mouthed. Not ‘you’. Interesting. “I can’t tell if your view is cynical or optimistic, little birdie.”

“Optimistic. I like the thought that we’re curious enough to try to better ourselves, no matter how flawless we may be.”

“Hypothetically, could it be said that the humans were truly flawless before they ate the apple?”

“No. If they were flawless, their faith would have made them invulnerable to tempting. Besides, their children became the first murderer and victim of the world; seeing as how humans learn from their parents, they couldn’t have been close to flawless.” Raven countered.

“Fair enough. If neither of us can accept that eating the apple was evil, and that faith isn’t our greatest strength, what is?”

“Perception. Just because one person sees it differently doesn’t mean either is wrong. It’s what makes us human and helps us advance - If Eden’s humans were perfect, it must have been a pretty bland place.” Raven smiled shyly, - cute - like what she just said had a special meaning for her. “And if you define perception as a type of knowledge, then it was gained by eating the apple.” Jason stared at her, a little in awe. His debating skills had been blunted by his lack of intelligent company since Alfred, but he had enough wits to recognise a superior orator. “You’re delightfully witty, little bird.” He complimented. There was a lull in conversation while she focused on reading the spell. Idly, he wondered if she was avoiding his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he’d made her flustered (of course, he would want to make any girl flustered, Jason thought, consciously not questioning if that was true). “Thank you. This wording ought to do it.” Raven withdrew a rod from within her cloak, upon which closer inspection revealed a point easily as sharp as a dagger. Jason felt the blood rush from his face and stumbled away from her, falling off the cot and sending one of the vials flying, shattering on impact with the wall next to the cot. Raven jumped and refocused her eyes on Jason, befuddled. After a awkward pause, in which Jason remained frozen with consternation half on and half off the bed, acutely aware of the foul-smelling concoction dripping onto the cot, Raven coughed, folding her sleeve over her nose and gingerly edging away from the liquid.

“Jason.” She scolded nasally, “I need to draw some symbols on your skin before I can cast the spell on you.”

“No way.” He refused flatly, surreptitiously putting the cot between them. “The last person to approach me with a piece of metal that big killed me and I’m not letting you inscribe stuff into my skin.”

“First on all, if you want to recover from that trauma, I know a couple of therapists who won’t care about your alter ego. I can accompany you if you really want help.” She spoke haltingly, turning away to dip her instrument in one of the vials while a curtain of hair shielded her expression.Jason’s snapped to hers in astonishment. That was not the response he was expecting. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was most certainly not that. “Secondly, I would never kill you, ever! If you can’t go with me, don’t you have someone else to accompany you to therapy?” Raven looked at him, fire sparking in her plum eyes. Jason sat back down on the cot and put his interlocked hands behind his head. “You saw how Bruce looked at me, little birdie. I don’t trust my brothers one bit with this and the one person who might go with me is back at the old Batman HQ. I can’t exactly pop in and ask him to come to therapy with me; god, what would he think anyway?” Jason scoffed, too jaded for tears.

“I believe you.” Raven admitted quietly. She sighed, her exhale sounding like branches rattling in the wind and Jason suddenly remembered Catherine, tired, Catherine, jaded, Catherine, with a sigh like branches rattling in the wind and a will like a dying ember. Jason frowned. That sound was far, far too tired to match one so courageous and lovely as her. If it was up to me, she’d never make that sound again. He thought firmly.

“You don’t belong there anymore; I know what that’s like.” Raven looked even more tired then, not angry, just… sad. Her eyes looked old. Her lashes fluttered, as though just keeping them upright was causing her effort, and Jason had a strange impulse to wipe that look of her face. “But.” Raven straightened, Jason mirroring her, and suddenly the formidable titan was back. “That doesn’t mean you have to cut off contact with that person. Dick’s told me about him - his name is Alfred, right? If what Dick has said about him was true, then you should write to him - he’s been worrying about you.” Jason looked down, wishing he’d had the foresight to smuggle in a cigarette with him.

“He wouldn’t welcome my letters, little bird.”

“Yes, he would! You’re so smart,” she protested. “How can someone as smart as you not see that!”

Jason felt the tips of his ears glow in an odd kind of embarrassed pride.“Alright. I’ll try.” He coughed, feeling foolish. Raven looked oddly proud, her eyes more tender than Jason felt was appropriate.

“Try to write about something you love or admire. It’ll be easier that way,” she advised, placing her rod - which emanated an uncomfortable burning sensation - directly over his heart. Jason tried not to flinch unsuccessfully. “What is that?”

“A toothpick of a giant.” Raven replied nonchalantly, focusing on her work. Jason blinked. “How?” He was unable to articulate further than that, but Raven must have gleaned what he was asking through his gobsmacked expression. After quelling a fit of laughter with a snort, Raven explained, ”We were sucked into another dimensions on one of our missions. Nightwing, in his infinite wisdom, took one look at the sleeping 30ft giant and decided to punch it in the nose, and then got us both sucked in it’s left nostril when it snorted.” Jason cackled wildly. Raven shook her head jokingly, smiling at him. “Honestly, if we hadn’t acquired such a valuable tool climbing out of it’s mouth -” Raven punctured her tale of woe with a horrified shudder, to Jason’s renewed cackles growing ever-louder. “I think I would have left him there when we managed to teleport back here.”

“So it was like a series of unfortunate events, huh?” Jason lilted flippantly. Raven swatted at him mock irritably, but he could see the hint of a grin on her face before she composed herself. Why did she do that? Jason immediately began running through his repertoire of book references for something that might bring that beautiful smile back. Woah. Beautiful smile? He questioned himself, mentally shooing away from that thought. Bad thought. Go back to wherever you came from, because you certainly did not come from The Red Hood’s esteemed intellect. Jason cleared his throat, his palms unreasonably sweaty for some reason and almost dropped the book he remembered he was still holding at the last minute. “Aren’t you afraid of Nightwing catching you red handed?”

Raven’s eyes dropped to the whitewashed floor. “No,” she uttered softly. “He’s much too busy fighting with Starfire right now to worry about anything else”. Raven met his gaze with a pained smile, her eyes soft with sadness. Jason’s stomach twisted nauseatingly and he suddenly regretted his question.

“Trouble in paradise?” he joked feebly, raising an eyebrow. He wanted to take back the words as soon as he said them. “Something like that.” Raven crossed her arms and blinked away any emotions that had been present in her gaze. No, no, dammit! Look what you did, he snarled inwardly, you made her close up!

“Starfire’s people are traditionally polyamorous but Dick-Nightwing refuses to talk to her about any options or - well, anything outside of work, now.”

Her words, although sudden, were unusually soft and tired compared to their earlier banter. Jason jolted up to look at Raven, who had apparently taken his silence for an inquiry.

“Uncommunicative as ever when it comes to love, those bats, I see. ah, lord, what fools these mortals be.” he blurted impulsively, wincing inwardly. Raven threw her head and her hood back - she has such lovely plump cherry lips! - and laughed. Her laugh was deep, and husky, he noted absently, as it quieted to infectious chuckles, and quite possibly the warmest thing he had ever heard in his life. Somehow managing to be on the quiet side, yet filling the room with her vibrant presence until he felt like he could hardly breathe. “Nobody who loves is a complete fool, and if it indeed foolishness, then it is divine folly.” She teased playfully, the tiredness in her voice vanishing like mist on a hot day, the corners of her mouth still twitching. Jason let out the breath he had been holding, a chuckle of his own beginning to rumble in his throat as he leaned back on the small cot.

Jason reached for a flask among the glowing vials, to find Raven curling protectively over it, calling it her Assam; her favourite tea. He had to release a few more chuckles upon seeing her so passionate of her tea - she’d get along well with someone he knows. After that, however, the tension surrounding them eased into something easy and almost familiar, almost distracting him from the complicated patters Raven was twirling over his bare chest.

“Do this often, little bird? Only artists like painters normally have this level of precision.” He commented.

“I don’t just do it for other spells.” She admitted reluctantly. “I make art of all kinds.” Jason tilted his head, curious. “I use paint to draw murals, I draw the stories I read about, and I draw the plants and animals I’ve seen from other, um, other-” She elaborated eagerly. Her eyes sparkled and she tossed her head, displaying a burst of passion Jason found himself unable to look away from. “Places?” He offered.

“Planets.” She finished wryly. “And sometimes dimensions, too.” She frowned, studying him closely. “Hold still. I need to kiss this seal in order for the spell to activate.” Without waiting for his reply, Raven swooped down and planted a light, soft kiss on her glyphs, which began to glow with the same light her vials had. Jason started, lowering his hand from behind his back to touch the place she had kissed him - and whacked her soundly on the nose as she looked up. “Ow!” Raven slid in his lap.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Jason yelped. “Are you okay, little birdie? Oh, god, I haven’t broken anything, have I? Deep breaths, Deep breaths. Should I call an ambulance - do you even have a doctor in this place?!”

Jason’s arms fluttered uselessly around her as she pressed against the bridge of her nose gingerly.

“I’m good.” She winced. “I have healing powers.”

Jason felt unbearably awkward. Would turning himself into the bat end the feeling of wanting to climb under the cot and never come out? Jason wasn’t sure, but he seriously considered it for a few, long silence filled minutes. Raven exhaled heavily, her breath touching his neck, and Jason suddenly became excruciatingly aware of their position. His heart kept banging against his chest like it was trying to reach her. Jason could have counted every single one of her eyelashes. Her brow creased. Oh, god. She could hear his heartbeats, couldn’t she? Geez, had they always been this loud? Ugh. Jason felt like he could die of embarrassment. Raven cleared her throat and gracefully stood up on the cot, moving around him to inspect the mess on the wall. Always so graceful. Jason stood up hurriedly and turned to face her back, rubbing his neck.

“The spell is complete; the pit’s madness will never affect you again. If you want, you can leave; There isn’t anything very interesting to do now,” she murmured, almost apologetically, beginning to clean the stain away with magic.

“Why would I? As if you could ever be boring.” he said reproachfully.She blushed, which shot a thrill up his spine that manifested in what must have been a thoroughly dopey smile on his face. God. What was she doing to him? Jason wondered. Whatever it was, it made his chest feel confused and happy and tight and yearning at the same time, so he pushed the feeling down and forced himself to smirk.“What is that, by the way? You didn’t use it, did you? That looks nasty.” Jason cringed as another drop of the mystery liquid reached his bedding.

“No, I didn’t. You didn’t choose any of the words that required it. It’s human blood.” Raven explained absently, rolling his eyes, at his disgusted expression.

“It was one of the men we were too late to save - he tried saving another man who had been framed who was imprisoned in his kingdom’s palace dungeons.”

“He was idealistic for trying to save someone in the government’s headquarters” Jason decreed firmly. Raven gave him an amused look. Damn, she was way too perceptive for her own good.

“Or perhaps he was honourable to not condemn the prisoner to an unjust fate.” She lilted, almost playfully. Did she just flutter her eyelashes at me?

“You know what I‘m implying. If robin figures out you did this, he could kick you out, little bird. I’d be happy to host you as a selfless citizen, myself, though.” Jason brightened, not at all selflessly.

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. You should not have to suffer for his need to micromanage everything related to the Titans. Besides, he’s so emotionally stunted he’d never punish me in a way I can’t see him gloat over my misery.” Raven retorted pertly. Jason tried to choke back a cackle, staring at her incredulously. He ended up making what he imagined to be the sound a dog toy made when it broke, which was why he tried to stop imagining and change the subject. Did she really just say that? “And if he puts you in this cell?”

“I’ll tell him to stop sulking like a spoilt brat. He always looks like he needs to take a shit.”

Jason struggled to control the tide of snickers pouring out of him. Okay, he decided, she wasn’t just witty, she was hilarious.

“He probably won’t try anything too painful, with you long gone and I being as valuable as I am - oh!” Raven slipped off the bed, into Jason’s instinctive embrace. Sudden, burning fury roared within him, the type that threatened to lash out if provoked.

“And if he tries to hurt you like a spoilt child, I’ll cut off his cock and nail it to a sewer wall somewhere until he remembers his manners.” Jason growled fiercely. She stared at him from their close proximity, the laidback energy between them tightening and fraying with tension. Jason fidgeted, realising how protective that statement had sounded. What was she doing to him?

“Since you’ve been so good to me, and all.” He added hastily.

“That’s gross, Jason.” She said, relaxing in his arms - too close, too fucking close, her back was curving against his arm - and he set her down carefully, supressing a shudder. Jason’s eyes widened.

“Here!” He thrust her communicator back at her. She glanced at it, surprised, as if she had forgotten about it too. When she reached to take it, Jason impulsively clasped her hands with his other fingers.

“Would…” Jason licked his lips, steeling himself, noting how raven’s eyes traced where his tongue had been and drawing strength from it.

“Would you like to come to dinner with me?” he waited, breathless.

“I’d like that…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and tensed her shoulders like she expected Jason to reprimand her or make her feel guilty.

“What convinced you?” he asked, curiously. She looked up in surprise and blessed him with a gentle smile. Jason found it oddly adorable.

“I hadn’t realized what a charmer you were.” she drawled.

Jason blushed furiously and rubbed his neck, glancing at Raven, who seemed to be more amused by the second.

“So, where should we meet? Your place? You don't exactly have a secret to keep, now.” She pointed out. Jason guilty thought of the red x costume in his condo.

“I do have a secret, actually.”

“I'm sure it must be simply dreadful.” Raven said placidly, reclining on the cot. Jason thought about the way she hadn’t hesitated to help him regardless of what her leader said. He thought about the look she’d given him when he had told her about not being able to go home. He thought about how she looked when he’d said he would write to Alfred. He swallowed and cradled her cheeks. If he was feeling particularly brave when remembering this later, he might have thought that she had nuzzled into the cradle of his hands.

“It might be, honestly. I can’t tell how you’ll see it as. But if you come to my condo next week, I promise I’ll tell you everything.” he whispered hoarsely - apologetically - in her ear.

“Everything?” Raven echoed. There was an unspoken question in her eyes, and Jason wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and rock away the doubt in her eyes until she felt secure again. He settled for wetting his lips. Later, he reminded himself. Later. “Yeah, Little Bird. Everything you want, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. In our world, telling me your information means a lot.” She looked at him with growing respect and a touch of admiration in her eyes. “That must have taken a lot of courage.”Jason smiled at her. What a weird person. What a weird demon. She was simply wonderful, he decided. Absolutely wonderful. Jason stared into her amethyst shining with hope, and privately managed to gather enough thought to decide on writing to Alfred about her. He thinks that he’ll write that his lady (if it would not be presumptuous to call her that) is unapologetic when breaking rules, brutally honest, a real demon but that she paints for fun, is loyal to her ethics first and foremost, keeps her books in pristine condition, a true hero yet a gentle soul and would look terribly, terribly breathtaking if he can convince her to wear a flower crown and get her eyes to sparkle like they were again.

Ripping his eyes away from her reluctantly, he backed out of the door and looked back - to see a flash of purple smoke. Of course! He felt like hitting his temple with the palm of his hand. She has magic; she could have left or alerted Nightwing at any time without his knowledge! For some odd, indecipherable reason, this revelation caused him to break out in bouts of uncontrollable snickers as he jumped out the closest window. He decided to add Assam tea to his shopping list.

Epilogue.

“Little Bird.” Raven spared a questioning glance at her - their - bed’s other occupant, who winked at her and waved lazily. Raven pursed her lips and aimed her gaze back at the novel in her hands, stifling a yawn. “It’s time to sleep.”

“One more chapter.”

“Mon petit oiseau, you know I adore a good book as much as you do. But I adore our bedtime ritual even more, love. Haven’t you finished that tea yet anyway?”

“Almost.” She turned a page and cradled her mug with both hands, draining it.“Awesome.” Jason stole a languid kiss to distract her as he plucked her book out of her hands and set it down on his bedside table.

“Mmm- Jason!” Raven protested weakly. He grinned at her and palmed her hips slowly. “What is it, darling? You know neither of us can sleep properly unless you do your ritual.” It had started about a year into their relationship, after a particularly bad nightmare. She set down her cup down with a mellifluous rap and squirmed to straddle his lap. Jason quickly draped a blanket around her shoulders and held her in a warm embrace. He'd quickly learned that she would get cold very easily and took full advantage of this fact to shamelessly encourage her to press every inch of herself against him whenever she was cold. Privately, Jason thanked whoever was up there that she hadn't caught him turning their 'broken' heater off yet. Raven exhaled as her fingers slowly caressed his face. Starting with his jawline, pressing kisses to his temple, lingering below his ears - he had to focus on not keening when she suckled beneath his earlobe -then combing his explosion of hair back, her dainty fingers travelling lower to his temples.

Three years onward and she still did this ritual every night, he thought fondly. “You have wrinkles”. she breathed abruptly. Wrinkles? On his gorgeous face? Jason thought. Oh, hell no. They were not wrinkles. They were the bags beneath his eyes. A few good nights sleep with his Raven and it’d clear right up. If not, the wrinkles had better pray for nothing more than skin lotion.

“Where?” Jason demanded indignantly. Raven touched the corners of this eyes gently, her eyes glowing tenderly.

“Did you know”, she began conversationally, “that there is one smile that cannot be replicated unless you are happy? It’s the only smile that includes the eyes - that’s where the saying ‘smiling eyes’ comes from.”

Jason sat back, wondering where the hell she was going with this, but happy to let her talk for as long as she wanted.

“If you smile that smile enough, well” she shrugged, tapping his wrinkles. “You must have been smiling a lot for some reason.”

“I wonder why,” Jason quipped, looking at her dimpling mouth hintingly. Raven let another of her low chuckles escape, curving her mouth invitingly - success! Jason rejoiced, part delightedly, part triumphantly - and leaned forward and brushed her lips against his - alright, fine - wrinkles then teasingly nibbling his lips before withdrawing, smirking impishly and batting her eyelashes coyly. Jason growled as she licked her lips deliberately. “I’m glad you’ve been smiling more,” she whispered earnestly, the look in her eyes taking Jason's breath away. He softened and swooped to capture her lips in a kiss that made her head spin and forced a swoon out of her mouth.

Jason wondered how she’d react to the information of her own acquired stunning wrinkles. Better not tell her, he decided lovingly, before Raven purred his name in his ear and he lost all coherent thought.

________________________________________________________________ “A series of unfortunate Events” - references a series of rather unpleasant, old children’s books.“Lord, what fools these mortals be!” - A midsummer’s night dream (Puck)“Nobody who loves is a complete fool. And if it is, then it is divine foolishness.” The squire, his knight, and his lady by Gerald Morris (Ganscotter and King Arthur)If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization. - Robert Green Ingersole. ________________________________________________________________ uhghhhhhhhh this was an absolute monster, @theplacewherebeautylies. “Let’s start writing! It’ll be easy! I can quit at any time” AND I CHOOSE TO MAKE A FREAKING 6341 word fic. IT’S 2AM. This is my first fic and I can already relate so much to those sleepless writer’s post. I hope you enjoy and thank you to @bluescove for beta-ing, I think it really helped!

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nervously-spouting-poetry · 4 years

Text

don’t breathe too deep (don’t think all day)

@watchwhathappensfromafar day 2 of au week! It’s a little late but I don’t care fhksfdlb Werewolf/vampire stories are my favorites, so I hope I’m doing this justice hadslkfkljas. Warning for swearing and mild body horror. Didn’t go off the shits for this one because I wanted to do something sorta fluffy with it.

Jack Kelly smelled wrong.

Or, he would’ve smelled wrong, had he had a proper smell to him, but he didn’t, which, as far as Davey was concerned, was worse than wrong.

See, Race smelled like his cigars that usually remained unlit, and Crutchie smelled like dirt more often than not. Romeo always smelled like the perfumes he was trying, Spot smelled of sweat, and yes, Jack smelled like paints, like paints and city smoke, but he didn’t have any scent that was distinctly his own, which was odd. As far as Davey knew, most humans smelled of something that he couldn’t quite explain. Something that was just... human. But Jack just didn’t. He didn’t smell like anything.

Which was weird.

To be fair, the fact that Davey noticed to begin with was also pretty weird.

He couldn’t help it. Being a werewolf in Lower Manhattan of all places was exhausting, and being a part of the newsies there only made it harder to keep it a secret. He’d caught himself growling at Racetrack once, though to be fair, the full moon had been the next night, and he’d reluctantly had to hawk headlines about infernal barking and dog attacks the next morning.

Keeping the secret was difficult-- but he had to do it. He didn’t get a choice in the matter. If word got out that one of the Jacobses was a were... he didn’t want to think about the consequences. They’d go after him, of course, but Les... Les wasn’t like him. None of his family members were, and as far as Davey was concerned, it was going to stay that way.

One werewolf was more than enough, as far as he was concerned.

With his bag slung over his shoulder and his cap slightly crooked on his head, Davey walked side by side with Jack, the scentless wonder himself, and tried his best to focus on the words Jack was saying. It wasn’t normally hard to focus, and he was fairly certain he was doing a good job at pretending to focus, nodding along in all the right places as Jack rambled on, but he was too busy thinking.

Too busy thinking until Jack cuffed him on the shoulder, that is, with a hand cold enough to make him yelp on contact.

“Ey, you’se been actin’ weird all day,” the other boy piped, earning a low, irritable little huff from Davey.

“I’m fine, Jack,” he intoned.

Another swat to the shoulder made him roll his eyes and shoot a glare in Jack’s direction.

“You’se not,” Jack insisted, “you’se been actin’ all funny ever since th’ sun went down. Scared ‘o gettin’ jumped?”

Why don’t you smell like anything?

Why am I worried about this?

What does it even matter?

Oh. That’s right. It doesn’t.

Davey made a noncommittal noise and shrugged as well as he was able. Yes, the sunset was making him antsy, but it wasn’t the darkness that was setting him off. After all, he could see just fine.

Apparently I can’t smell all that fine.

Turning his gaze to Jack with his eyes semi-narrowed, Davey offered a false smile. “Nah. I’ve got you as bait, haven’t I?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Why’s I th’ bait?” He asked, “you’se the one who can’t fight worth shit--”

“I’m faster.”

This time, Davey avoided the smack to his shoulder and gave a soft snort of a laugh. It wasn’t all that bad an end to a day that also, really wasn’t all that bad. The only real bummer was that he’d had to sell some paper about a freak series of attacks around Lower Manhattan, and it was really getting to some of the other boys. It was one of the few instances that Davey had really, really wished there hadn’t been a nice clear picture. An oozing, bitten wound on the side of someone’s neck really wasn’t something he’d wanted to see bright and early in the morning.

“Right, yeah,” Jack agreed, snapping him back into the present again, “’cos you’se faster and I tastes better, is that it?”

You probably don’t taste like anything.

Seeing as you don’t smell like anything.

Why was now the time he’d picked to notice Jack’s lack of scent?

Scrubbing a dirty hand across his face to mask a confused frown, Davey shrugged. “Wouldn’t know, Jack. Should I ask Katherine--”

Jack’s bag swung hard enough into Davey’s side to make the air leave his lungs in a startled, wheezing little gasp, though it quickly turned to a laugh when he caught sight of Jack’s almost offended expression.

“You know Kath an’ me ain’t--”

“Kath and I,” he corrected, automatically.

“Whatev’a. You knows we ain’t like that no more, yeah?”

He knew. He’d been the first to hear of the breakup, though, not from Jack. Instead, it had been from a pale-faced Katherine, who he didn’t see much of these days, just in passing glances. Whenever they met eyes, she was always quick to look away, though he didn’t know why.

“What,” Davey started, innocently eyeing him, “you don’t taste each other anymore?” He was already halfway ducking when he said it, and when Jack made to swing, Davey shot just far enough ahead of the other boy to cause his bag to swing into the nearest alley wall with an empty thump of fabric, just behind him.

“We nev’a did, ya ass!” Jack shouted after him, though there was no real malice in it. His voice had a laugh just beneath its surface, close enough to bubbling up through his words to make Davey’s lips twitch upward into a smile.

“How was I to know?” He shot back, turning to walk backward while grinning at Jack. “For all I know, you two are the ones going around biting people!”

He swore he saw Jack pale in that instant, though, it must’ve just been a trick of the light, the way his eyes had flickered with something close to fear before Davey blinked and it was all gone.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Dave,” Jack huffed, “watch yourself, or we’s gonna get ya next!”

With a playful shout, Jack leapt at him with his hands outstretched in false claws and his fangs--

His WHAT?

--his teeth, that was it-- bared in a snarl.

First my nose, now my eyes.

Swinging his hands up to stop Jack from crashing full into his front, Davey shook his head and gave the other boy a good shove in the chest. “Right, though I bet you’ll be doing the biting,” Davey said through a laugh.

“Ey, bett’a than that stupid-ass dog that the whole city’s been goin’ apeshit about. You’s gonna be lucky if ya’s bit by good ole reliable Jack Kelly!”

Davey swallowed. “Lucky?” He asked, trying to pull focus away from the way that Jack seemed almost eerily focused on him. “Why?”

“Oh, lot’sa reasons,” Jack explained. Striking a pose, the shorter boy shot Davey a look that could only be described as embarrassing. “Fer one, I’s handsome,” he began with a twitch of his brows.

Davey snorted. “Find a better reason.”

Jack brought a hand to his chest dramatically. “I’s crushed, David! You’se a real bastard, ya know that? I ain’t even given ya th’ best reason! That was jus’ a warm up!”

Turning on his heel, Davey shook his head, using it as an excuse to look skyward. No moon yet. None that he could see through the city smog, anyway, and it wasn’t supposed to be a full moon yet. Still... his skin was starting to itch, that animal inside him begging to be unleashed, and being in the alley with Jack was only making it plead with him in a louder, more convincing voice.

Davey shook it off. “Well, I don’t need to hear the rest--”

“I’s polite about it!”

He didn’t look up as Jack quickened his step to walk in time with him, bumping their shoulders together. “Really! I is! I’ll ask ya first an’ everythin’!”

A laugh escaped Davey at the almost offended tone snaking its way into Jack’s voice. “What, you just... come up and ask ‘hey, can I put my fangs in your neck?’” As he gave a laugh at the mental image, he heard Jack make a low, offended little noise beside him.

“Yeah-- well, not wit’ th’ fangs,” Jack corrected, “that’s a little too much, ain’t it?”

“Fangs?”

“Yeah. Feel like they’d make it ‘ard to talk.”

“Well...” Davey mused, stopping himself mid-step to look at Jack out of the corner of his eye. “Not like you’re talking all that well without them--”

“Ey!”

Again, Jack bared his teeth and lunged for Davey,and although Davey managed to catch his shoulders and stop Jack from slamming into him entirely, he felt his back connect with the alley wall.

Panting, sweat trickling down his forehead, Davey lolled his head back and gave a laugh. “What happened to asking first?” He prompted, though the joking edge to it had faltered, just for a moment, because there was something... different about Jack.

It was his eyes. Gleaming in the darkness in a way that Davey knew human eyes didn’t, and it was there in the way his lips twitched slightly and his jaw tensed, just enough to make him look like he was really considering it--

“I ain’t asked yet.” His hands didn’t move from Davey’s shoulders. It didn’t seem to matter that Davey was taller-- he’d slid far enough down the wall that they were practically at eye-level as Jack finally, finally shot him a grin. “Can I?”

He couldn’t explain his response. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain his response. It had been a joke at the time, though to Davey, it had seemed as though there had been an almost serious feeling hanging in the air above him. Locking eyes with Jack, Davey tipped his head back, exposing his neck completely. “Bite me, Kelly.” He breathed, though it quickly turned to a soft snicker.

It was the first time in a long time that Jack had ever gone silent in front of Davey. He wasn’t blushing, but in the darkness, it looked almost like he was trying to. His eyes were blown wide, trained, however, not on Davey but on his exposed throat. They looked almost hungry.

They’re not, Davey rationalized, because Jack isn’t actually going to bite anybody.

Adjusting how he was slumped against the wall for a split-second and looking into Jack’s eyes-- eyes that still weren’t focused on him-- Davey cocked his head. “Jack?”

That broke the spell. Jack’s hands fell from where they’d been on Davey’s shoulders, and when they were removed, it hit him just how hard Jack had been pressing against him. Hard enough that when Davey stumbled momentarily in an attempt to get back up to his full height, he felt a small twinge of discomfort across his shoulders.

Is it bruising?

Suddenly, it felt rather hard to breathe. With a hand that trembled and itched a tad, Davey loosened the collar of his shirt and watched without speaking as Jack stalked away from him.

He didn’t go far. He stopped a few feet ahead of Davey and brought his hands up to his face, and for a moment, Davey could’ve sworn that Jack was shaking.

Did... did I do something wrong?

Swallowing nervously, Davey inhaled and started after him, already trying to speak, but--

“How,” Jack began, calmy, “th’ FUCK did you know?”

The volume caught Davey off guard. His heart began to thrum heavily in his chest.

How did I...

An uncomfortable feeling settled across him as the figure of Jack heaved, still keeping his back turned to Davey in the darkness.

“H-How did I know what?” Davey stammered. It was all he could think to say. He had a feeling-- a squirming, writhing sort of feeling-- settling in his gut like a lead weight that told him he knew exactly what Jack was referring to.

But it couldn’t be right.

He stepped closer when Jack didn’t respond. “...Jackie?” He tried, the nickname earning him the noise of Jack taking a quivering, shaking breath.

“I’s tried so damn hard t’hide it,” Jack croaked, “I-- an’ you just comes into my life an’ you knows-- you-- you KNOWS! I ain’t told anyone-- I ain’t done nothin’ s’picious, I ain’t-- I goes out in th’ day like all the other boys, an’ I sells my papes an’ I don’t read too much into what’s on ‘em, I don’t-- I jokes about ‘em, fer fuck’s sake!”

Davey took another step closer to Jack, and hesitantly put his hand on the other newsie’s shoulder. “Jack. You-- slow down, what’re you so worked up about?” He asked, a desperate, pleading sort of lilt coming into his voice. “You-- you’re shaking like a leaf, you-- do you need to sit--”

And then Jack turned to face him. In the dim light of the alley, Davey could see something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Two somethings. A pair of sharp fangs curled out from behind Jack’s lips, and as Jack’s wide eyes met his own--

“I’m a vampire, Dave.”

The words came out in a rush, and once they were spoken, Davey’s ears started to ring, though not to a point where he couldn’t hear the noise of Jack choking on the air when he turned away.

“I-- I ain’t been th’ one bitin’ people, though, I’s not a-- I’s not some monster, and I don’t know-- I ain’t-- how--” Jack was starting to spiral. Davey could hear it in his voice. “--how did’ja just figure it out like that? That ain’t--”

He was cut off by Davey giving a sharp, disbelieving laugh. It was a small noise, really. More of a snort than anything, but by the time Jack turned around once more, fangs gleaming in the darkness, Davey had begun to shake with the force of his guffaws.

“Dave, this-- this ain’t a joke.” Jack sputtered, though when he opened his mouth to say more, Davey beat him to it.

“That’s why you don’t smell like anything,” he wheezed through a giggle, “and-- and that’s why you burn so easily in the sun, a-and--”

“Why I don’t smell?” Jack echoed. The look of confusion on his face was enough to send Davey over the edge.

He clutched at his stomach and stumbled back toward the alley’s brick wall, doubled over and cackling. “I-- I mean-- what’re the odds?” His voice was wobbling, though as he broke into another round of giggles, Jack made an exasperated noise.

“The odds of what? You’se really gonna lookit me an’ say vamps don’t exist? I’s got fangs, fer fuck’s sake, David!”

Davey shook his head. When he inhaled, it was shaky, and he threatened to break into a laugh with the air left in his lungs. “Jack,” he started, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, “it’s not that you’re bad at hiding it, it’s because I’m a lycanthrope.”

Jack’s confusion only seemed to grow. His brow furrowed, and although his words were a little slurred around the fangs, it was more than a little understandable. “Dave, I don’t gives a shit about yer religion, I wants to know why th’ fuck the way I smell was any clue!”

Davey lost it.

Gasping for air against laughter that bubbled up from his throat, he shook his head and put out a hand on the alley wall for balance. It wasn’t even that funny. As he wheezed and giggled almost hysterically to himself, he looked up at Jack with a wide, crooked grin. “It’s not a religion, Jackie. I’m a werewolf.”

There was a beat of silence before Jack’s eyes widened.

Davey managed to stifle his laughter as the other boy slowly, slowly began to slot the pieces together in his mind. He could practically hear the wheels in Jack’s head turning, probably squealing from years of misuse as they clicked and whirred until--

“Well, that would’a been nice to know.”

The laughter doubled in volume, now that two boys were in on it. It was nothing to laugh at-- vampirisim and lycanthropy weren’t exactly laughing matters-- but they didn’t care, because for the first time in a very, very long time, they’d let their secrets spill. It felt great.

Almost as great as when the pair scaled the fire escape to Jack’s rooftop penthouse, with the vampire in question still a little red in the face from his laughing. “So you’se-- you’se been sniffin’ me?”

“No! Just-- you notice things like that when you hang around people a lot. It’s why I figured out that you hung around Medda’s so much. Whole place smelled like you.”

As Davey hauled his way up onto the roof with help from a cold, strong grip, Jack frowned.

“Ey, I thought you said I didn’t smell.”

“Your clothes do,” Davey explained, “they smell like Medda’s.”

The night air was clear and crisp, now. It always seemed nicer up on the roof with the city far, far below them and the sky stretched out like a map above. It was one of the few times Davey could actually hear himself think. Having sensitive ears-- sensitive even for a were-- was tricky when you lived in Manhattan, where the city never seemed to quiet down, but...

Davey sighed, thoughtfully. “Never would’ve guessed the vampire thing,” he admitted, earning a shrug from Jack.

“Never would’a pinned ya as a wolf, though I guess that explains the sheddin’...”

The taller boy blushed. “I,” he stated, firmly, “do not--”

Jack jutted out his chin with a snicker. “Prove it, then.”

“How?”

That stumped him. Davey watched with an almost morbid fascination as Jack chewed on his lip with fangs he’d never noticed before.

They’re probably retractable.

Even now, his analytical mind was kicking into overdrive, putting together pieces from what he’d observed and realizing, with an odd sort of astonishment, that it had been fairly obvious. After all, he’d never seen Jack eat anything, and he was a little pale for a Manhattan newsie...

What does he even eat?

The answer was easily deduced, sure-- blood-- but where did he get it?

He didn’t bother asking Jack about it. Questions could come later, once the pair of them had figured out where they stood with the whole thing. It wasn’t as though Davey knew everything there was to know about being a werewolf. Keeping the conversation light seemed to be in his best interest, and he was more than happy to oblige.

Sitting on the roof in a spot usually occupied by Crutchie, Davey crossed his arms against the cold and waited for Jack to rebut him.

He didn’t need to wait long.

“Change,” Jack finally prompted with enough force and genuine command behind his voice that it caught Davey off guard.

His eyes widened a tad. “Here?”

“Why not? Nobody’s gonna see, an’ ‘sides, I wanna know if you’se really all as big an’ scary as wolves is s’posed to be.” There was no fear in Jack’s voice as he sat on the ledge of the roof, back toward the city and eyes expectantly on Davey, who shifted his weight under Jack’s gaze.

“I... I don’t know if that’s a good idea...” He tried, though it was met with a scoff.

“You seen my fangs, so I’d say it’s a good ole even trade. One fer one, hey?” Jack wheedled, leaning forward and baring his teeth as if to prove it.

Davey swallowed. “It’s not exactly the same. If you could turn into a bat, it’d be the same.”

“That’sa loada shit, Dave,” Jack huffed, “I’s tried. Must be for them pureblood fuckers.” For a moment, Jack seemed to lose his train of thought, though he was quick to put his attention back on Davey. “But I wanna see! C’mon, only for a minute. It don’t hurt you, does it?”

Shrugging, Davey scuffed a foot against the roof. “A little. Just itches, mostly.”

“An’ ya don’t need a full moon?”

“That’s bullshit,” Davey admitted with a sigh.

“Then get itchy, Jacobs!” Jack exclaimed.

Davey laughed, though it was a little strained sounding.

The roof would hold... and he’s not gonna let me off the hook for this one, is he?

A glance at Jack’s expression confirmed it. There was a childish light in his eyes, something eager and excited, like Les every Christmas when he’d wake up extra early and practically drag Davey down the stairs and into the living room. It was startlingly similar.

“...promise you won’t tell?” He finally asked.

Jack’s eyes gleamed. “Ey, ‘course I wouldn’t. You’se... you’se not th’ wolf attackin’ people though, right? You’se... you’se still you when ya change?”

Davey nodded. “I-- I’m still me,” he confirmed, already shakily getting to his feet, “th-though I usually do this alone. Could you... erm... could you turn--”

He didn’t need to finish the request. With a mock salute, Jack turned to face the city lights, leaving his back to Davey.

Right.

He actually wants me to do this.

There was something almost like excitement rising in Davey’s chest as he carefully shed his vest and cap, tucking them neatly away, though he couldn’t tell why. It wasn’t like he’d never shifted before.

“Don’t look--” He started to say.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack interrupted, “get itchy, whatev’a.”

A soft snort escaped Davey before he could stifle it.

Okay.

We’re doing this.

The animal under his skin twitched. It was disorienting, having it so close to the surface. He’d never forced a transformation before-- never had reason to-- but it couldn’t be all that hard, could it? He had to resist the urge to change most of the time, so... it would happen fast.

Right?

Okay.

He thought again, and with a nervous little breath, he let his eyes slide closed.

It all happened so much faster when he let it.

He barely had time to brace for the stinging sensation of fur prickling up across his body, and with a dull thump, he was brought to his knees under a new muscle weight his body wasn’t prepared for, and once he hit the ground--

He could feel his form changing-- claws pressing through where his fingers had been, his jaws elongating into a muzzle with a pain that was dull enough to go through silently-- and as his bones shifted and cracked into place, he struggled not to focus on the nauseating sensations of his internal organs shifting.

His breaths came quicker.

A canine tongue lolled past his sharp teeth.

His claws dug into the roof’s surface as he felt his vertebrae beginning to pop and click against each other in an elongated spine, and then with a searing, awful pain that made him give an animal little yelp--

A plumed tail thumped against the bricks.

Davey’s heart was beating a little too fast as he carefully, carefully stumbled a little ways away from Jack-- who was still standing with his back turned-- and tried to process how easily the shift had come. It hadn’t hurt like the last times-- not really-- it hadn’t--

“...Dave?”

His ears perked up at the familiar voice. His eyes-- wild and a little scared-- tracked to Jack’s shape.

Can I speak like this?

He’d never tried. He’d never had a reason to try. Inhaling, forcing himself to step closer with his claws skittering slightly on the roof, he looked down at Jack and gave a low rumble in the back of his throat. “...okay.” He breathed. It was raspy, sounding more like a bark than anything else, but it prompted Jack to spin around.

When his eyes met Jack’s, at first, he thought he saw fear there.

He couldn’t blame the other boy. He was huge. Huge and animal with teeth designed to bite and tear up prey before they could get a word in edgewise, and not to mention, his hulking shape was taking up a good amount of the rooftop. Thick fur covered him from head to toe, and although it had a bit of curl to it, it was murky looking, patchy around his shoulders and down his back.

His ears pinned back. His tail tucked between his legs.

“...Jackie?” He tried, inwardly cringing at the rough, grating tone escaping his lips.

Jack’s face lit up.

Before Davey could do so much as flinch, a pair of cold, careful hands were on the sides of his shaggy head. “Holy shit! An’ t’think all this time I thought you was a weakling,” Jack exclaimed, already grinning from ear to ear in a way that made his fangs pop out. “You’s fuckin’ huge! Jesus, is all wolves this big? Do you know?”

Already, he was creeping closer.

Davey slumped into a sitting position and tried to shrug. Moving slowly, as not to scare the other boy, Davey laid himself down in a mess of matted, brown fur and let his head rest atop his enormous, clumsy looking paws.

Jack looked like he was going to implode. Davey could practically hear the questions Jack wasn’t asking as the other boy looked him over, striding closer by the second. “I-- you’se-- wow, Dave, this-- this is somethin’,” Jack praised.

Davey’s tail wagged in response.

“And...” The vampire drawled with an almost smug smile. As he spoke, he let his hand press against Davey’s side and come downward in a gentle, petting motion. “You does shed.”

Davey didn’t remember much of the rest of the night. He remembered trying to speak and getting laughed at. He remembered the soft noises of the boys in the lodgehouse below them stirring in the night. He remembered the feeling of Jack’s cold hands tracing patterns against the fur on his side.

But what he remembered best was falling asleep, wrapped around the cold shape of Jack Kelly, and wondering if the other boy was warm.

#newsies #newsies quarantine project #davey jacobs #jack kelly #javid #werewolf au #vampire au #werewolf!davey #vampire!jack #fluff #man this is just fluff ngl #i sorta love it

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anthropwashere · 4 years

Text

deadfic: she sang to me a language strange 2

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest but this time some of y’all might recognize this one! I cut out ~2k of language strange when I posted it because it was even more of a hot mess than the rest that I just didn’t have the energy to wrangle. Now I have an excuse to still throw it in your faces with virtually no editing!

Behold yet more bad times for Ed in the terrible werewolf AU (tw cannibalism, imprisonment, and a whole heck of mileage out of the word “fuck”). The key difference between this chunk and the previous chunk is in the pacing.

(Apologies for the bad Google Translate French. Again.)

(part 1)

A guard comes by with a bowl of mush, barks something at him but he doesn’t care, he refuses to care. The guard leaves. He doesn’t look at the bowl even though his stomach is a knot of nausea and hunger and he’s so fucking thirsty, he just wants a glass of water but he can’t remember the last time they gave him anything to drink.

The guard comes back with another guard, no, two more guards from the smell. They’re laughing. Oh, good, great, this’ll be fun. Can’t they just, fuck, give him a day or whatever amounts to a day down here? He’s tired, he’s so tired. He’s digesting the parts of Renée Poirier he didn’t throw up. Just stop, go away, let him rest.

One of the guards bangs on the top of his cage and they all laugh when he flinches. Another one must bend down because his rough voice is too close to the bars when he asks, “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, loup garou? Vous sentez-vous malade?”

He bares his teeth. Loup garou. Wolfman. They think they’re so goddamn funny.

They ask him again if he’s feeling sick, bang on his cage, ask him if he’s just feeling down, aw, poor wolfman, poor stupid Amestrian dog, is he sad? They heard him and the bitch chatting, does he miss his new friend? Well he shouldn’t have gone and killed her, eh? God, but the mess he made of her, makes a normal man sick it does! Like he enjoyed it—

“Shut up,” he snarls, or he means to say it in Amestrian but it comes out as nothing but a warning rumble deep in his chest. His teeth are too big again, too long, too sharp. How did Heinkel deal with this shit? How did any of them? They’d all always seemed so—controlled. Calm, cool, collected, whatever the fuck, the guards are banging on his cage more and it’s hard to think, harder than usual, what’s even fucking usual anymore.

He curls up tighter, tries to calm down. Normal man, he thinks scathingly. Fuck off with that. The guards are all bargain bin chimeras too. They look human, sure, mostly, but their eyes shine wrong and their teeth are too sharp. Little tells that used to raise the hair on the back of his neck when he was still human. Now he knows better. Now he knows the guards were all changed as a precaution, otherwise one wrong move and any one of the prisoners could take a bite out of them. Even the playing field.

He can’t deny he wouldn’t be tempted to, if it were an option. He can’t deny he’s tempted to bite one of them anyway, never mind the hell they’d give him after. He has no idea if it’s something he would have thought of when he was human or if this is that fucking animal instinct Darius always loved to harp on about. He doesn’t know which is worse or which is more comforting. He just wants the guards to leave. They’re clearly not taking him anywhere, otherwise they wouldn't have started messing with his shackles, choking him, yanking on his bad leg, shit like that. They’re just here for a laugh. There’s nothing more obnoxious than guards with time to kill until their shift’s over.

One of them declares that the reason he made a mess all over the floor must be that he doesn’t know. The other two are astounded, my god, surely he must? Surely the Amestrian dog’s not so stupid as that? Wasn’t this one supposed to be smart, isn’t that why the brass wanted him so bad? How could he not notice something so obvious? Not used to good cooking, one of them suggests, and they all howl with laughter and start to rag on bland Amestrian cuisine for a minute, which, whatever, they can do whatever the fuck they want so long as they leave him out of it.

Of course they don’t though. One of them pulls on one of his chains and he snarls, snarls louder when they pull harder. “Regarde moi,” the guard snarls back.

They all know he understands them. His mistake. He should have realized the advantage he’d have if they thought he couldn’t string more than a where’s the bathroom together. Ah well. If wishes were horses, they'd end up as chimeras down here too. He doesn’t roll over—they’ve all driven that joke into the ground—just cranes his head over his sore right shoulder and bares his teeth up at them. He’s pretty sure that’s something he would have done as a human. It’s a mean comfort.

The nearest guard’s fangs dimple his lips when he smiles. He’s got old scars across his jaw and one cheek, like claw marks. Now there’s a fucking idea. The guard asks him if he’s stupid and barks laughter.

“Stupid enough to get caught by you, I s’pose,” he says in Amestrian, because he doubts they can string even a where’s the bathroom together in his language. Either he’s wrong or they just don’t like his tone, because the guard yanks on his chain again. They’ve got him by the right arm and his shoulder throbs and threatens to pop out of the joint again. Fuck them, fuck the bastard who cut out his prosthetic clavicle, fuck the alchemists for not giving him a new one along with the leg they gave him, not like he wanted it but—fuck, fuck—

The guards laugh raucously above him. Fuck them. Fuck. Fuck. Ow.

“Regarde moi,” the guard says again, rattling the chain a little. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him who’s in charge. Ha. Like they ever give him a chance to forget.

He glowers up at him and the guard asks if he really doesn’t know. “Sais quoi?” He grits out, exasperated. Just spit out whatever bullshit and leave him alone.

The other two guards are grinning too. The one on the left grins wolfishly, open mouthed with his too-thin tongue lolling. Must be the one not talking as much.

The nearest guard yanks on his chain again and asks him what he thinks he’s been eating the whole time. He looks at him, baffled. What the hell did that—

Quicker than he can react the guard sticks his hand through the food slot and upends the bowl of mush in his face. He yelps, splutters, room temperature broth and soft meat clumps and cold potatoes and stringy gray vegetables spilling in his eyes and soaking his hair. He can’t see well enough to dodge the guard’s rough fingers, shoving something—meat, definitely meat—into his mouth. He bites down but the guard’s quicker; he only bites the meat, feels no satisfying—horrifying—crunch of bone. He swallows so he can snarl, but the guards all laugh and the nearest one says, “Tu as mangé du la chimère.”

He stares. They’re making even less sense than usual, and that’s saying something. He knows he fucking ate a chimera, he knows, he knows, he knows. Her name was Renée Poirier and she was a wolf like he’s a wolf, which is to say they aren’t wolves at all but they’re not human anymore either, and she’s not anything but past fucking tense because he killed her and ate her, and he killed her and ate her because the alchemists did—something—to him that made him want to kill and eat her. So what is this guard playing at?

“Je le sais,” he says, wary, flinching when the guards all laugh again.

“Non, non,” the other guard says, the one who doesn’t laugh like a dog. “Now.”

He shakes his head, not understanding—

—but he does.

The lumps of meat on his chest, on the floor of his cage, in his stomach—they came from another chimera. Someone like him. A person. They’re feeding him people, they have been the whole time and he never knew, he never knew all this time he’s been eating—he’s been cannibalizing—

“No,” he whispers. “No. You’re lying—”

“Not a lie,” the second guard says, grinning crookedly. “All eat the same. Always.”

The guards bark laughter one last time and then finally, they leave.

He shies away from the clumps of meat cooling in his cell, curls up tightly in as close to a corner as his chains allow. No, he thinks—begs. No. They’re lying. All this time, trapped down here in this freezing hell, weeks or months, his life sustained day after day by the other—no. No. It’s wrong. They’re lying. They have to be. Just another ugly trick. Please.

Time passes. The mush caught in his tangled hair cools and clots. Nothing fresh is brought, no one comes to bother him at all. He doesn’t eat no matter how much his stomach growls. They lied. He knows it’s a lie—but what if it’s not? What then? He gets so hungry. He’s so tired. But he can’t. He can’t eat. Someone will come for him. They have to find him. Soon. Please. S'il te plaît. They’re wrong. They lied. Please.

He hears the bitch before he smells her, and he smells her before he sees her standing in the open doorway of the narrow little room his cage is kept. He growls and doesn’t mind the purely animal sound that bubbles out of him. She’s the one who made him this. It’s her bite on his leg that made him this.

The bitch sighs. “The guards say you are not eating.”

He growls louder, deeper, rolls onto his hands and knees—grinds his fangs together to keep his pained yelp unuttered when his left knee hits the cold metal too hard—and glares a challenge at her. He sets the scrap of humanity left to him aside, folds it up small and hides it away where she can’t set her teeth to it. She doesn’t deserve to see it when she’s the one who did this to him.

“You need to eat,” she says. Yeah, she would say that. Pretending like she cares about his well-being when she’s the one who tore him open to allow his humanity to bleed out. Look at him, he growls. Fucking look at this hobbled, toothsome thing he’s been reduced to. It’s all that’s left of the man he was, and it’s all. Her. Fault. Fuck her. She’s proud of what she did to him. Never said it plainly but he can smell it on her. Pride in a job well done. What a bitch.

“Fine,” she says. “Don’t eat. I don’t care. Die and be done with it.”

He cackles, high and shrill. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She bares her teeth—too long, too sharp—in a humorless grin. “I would. My superiors would not, however. They have high hopes for you, Fullmetal.”

“That’s not my fucking name.”

“What horrid language. You never fail to disappoint.”

His skull grew faster than the rest of his face so he can’t really grin back, but whatever face he’s managing to make at her is a nasty thing if her own expression’s anything to go by. Then again she always has this look about her like she just stepped in dogshit. Maybe that’s just how the other alchemists put her back together, he doesn’t know.

The bitch takes her left hand out of the pocket of her white coat. She’s got a syringe full of something clear, something slightly tinted green. He’s seen it twice before, but both times he was more animal than person, more eager to bite than to ask questions. This is the first time he’s been sane enough to wonder what the fuck it is.

“You need this,” she says. “You will die without it.”

He laughs, loud and barking, pitching higher into a howl that sets off the other wolves that aren’t wolves on this floor. He hears their manic fear mirroring his own and finds relief in it. He’s not the only one down here like this, this half-thing, this twisted up monster, this chimera full of teeth and fury hungry for the excuse to bite. He grins wolfishly, slitted eyes and bared fangs. “Fuck you,” he says, and finds gladness in the unhappy curl of her mouth.

“You’ll eat,” she says, brandishing the bowl of mush in her other hand that may or may not be chopped up people-chimera. “You’ll take this,” she says, brandishing the syringe so it catches the light spilling in from the hall. “ You’ll accept both or you’ll die.”

“Fuck you,” he says again. “Go take a flying fuck over the goddamn moon.”

Her snout—nose, she’s got a nose, she still looks human enough for a nose, she’s got better control than she does and fuck her for that too—wrinkles. She walks into the room and he snarls louder, feels hackles rise all down his spine, feels his bones creak and muscles strain. He doesn’t want to change but he fucking hates her enough to make the pain worth it. She closes the gap anyway, cold and confident and just out of reach of his paws—claws—whatever. She slides the bowl of mush over, just outside the narrow gap in the bars of his cage. She holds up the syringe, twists it between her fingers. Her fingernails—no, sharp enough to be called claws—tick and tap carefully against the glass.

“I mean it,” she says. “You need this. Every six days, the same as me. Seven days, you’ll start to go insane, almost as much as you did in the pit—” He flinches. She grins. Bitch. “Eight days, your body will start to tear itself apart. The shape you’re in? You won’t live nine days. This is not a threat. It’s fact.”

“Yeah?” Hard to talk with how long his teeth have gotten, how long his snout’s grown. He growls low and knows she’ll understand him. There’s a fine line between personhood and the monster she made him, and monsters can all understand each other just fine. “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” she replies. “They’ll show you the truth of this, if you survive the pit.”

He flinches. She grins.

She pulls something out of the other pocket of her coat, a thin wooden shape with curving pale carvings. “You take your dose, or I get a guard to come in here and blow this.”

He squints at the wooden shape until it makes sense. It’s a whistle.

Le sifflet, the dark shape of the thing that used to be Renée Poirier whispers in his memory. His memory fractures, splintered by a high, thin scream of noise and pain that tore the scrap of his humanity, that last bit of him that can still call itself Edward Elric-Rockbell, out of the beast and left it to hang.

The bitch grins wider.

He shakes his head, shrinking back until his spine is pressed painfully against the bars nearest the walls. “You’re lying.”

“Of course not,” she says. “The truth is far more useful.”

White grins in white spaces. Yeah. Isn’t it just.

“Tell me what’s in the syringe.”

“It’s necessary.”

“Fuck you. What’s in it? What’s it gonna do to me?”

She sighs impatiently. “Consider the fact that you are dying as we speak.”

#fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #my writing #deadfic

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brieflygorgeouss · 5 years

Note

Hiii, i love your writing ❤️ im waiting patiently for updates on your fic. But........ number 12 for the prompts bc i like angst

12. “please don’t do this” (you wanted angst, so here it is :’) part 2 of this is coming in a separate post!)

Lucas has made a mistake.

When it comes down to it, the whole thing is pretty simple. Lucas tries not to pay it much attention. In his day to day life, there’s very little space for those kinds of things. See, Lucas is a science guy, not a feelings guy. He likes facts, and undeniable truths, something he can lean on, knowing that it’s not just his own heart messing with him.

But then, sometimes there’s this — Eliott will turn his head just right when they’re hanging out in the park with everyone else, and the sunlight will catch in his hair. They’ll catch a glimpse of each other in the hallway and he’ll smile at Lucas with this horrible, breathtaking smile of his like it’s nothing. He’ll draw something on a napkin while they’re waiting for their coffee orders at Starbucks, then give it to Lucas, just because.

And in those moments, Lucas always thinks — maybe his heart is playing tricks, after all. If the way it stutters and aches is anything to go by.

Lucas has made a mistake and here it is — a throwback to three months ago. Lucas is standing in Eliott’s living room, late at night after they’ve just finished watching some weird Spanish movie, with his hair in his eyes and his heart in his throat, and he’s saying, ”I’m in love with you.”

Eliott is wearing an old t-shirt that hangs loosely enough around his neck to show his collar bones, and his hair is messy from where he kept running his hands through it. His eyes are huge. For a second, he looks at Lucas like he doesn’t believe him, and then he looks like he does believe him and something in his eyes lights up, burns like a flare and then dies down again. He’s turning to Lucas, in the next moment. Then, he’s saying, ”Listen, Lucas, I— I’m not—” and then, turning his eyes away, quieter, ”Please don’t do this.”

So. Fast forward to now — Lucas should have just stayed quiet.

”Hey,” Lucas hears from somewhere above him, ”I really like your jacket.”

When he lifts his head, there’s a guy standing by his table, with thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and a small smile on his lips. Lucas is about 70 percent sure he has seen him around the library before. They’ve caught each other’s eyes once or twice while sitting at neighbouring tables and run into one another by the lockers downstairs. If he remembers correctly, that is.

He says, kind of unsure, ”Oh. Thanks.”

”We’ve seen each other around before, right?” the guy voices Lucas’s thoughts, which, in turn, makes Lucas wonder, again, if they really had. Maybe the Glasses Guy had even introduced himself. Lucas can’t remember his name. ”I’ve been meaning to tell you, this jacket is so cool. And also your hair.”

Lucas is not sure what to say to that, so he just keeps smiling, a little plasticky. ”Thank you.”

”Would you mind if I joined you?” the Glasses Guy says, gesturing at the empty seat across from Lucas.

”Uhm. I’m, actually. I’m kinda waiting for someone.”

There’s a beat of silence when they just keep looking at each other, Lucas having nothing else to add and the guy waiting for him to probably do so.

”Oh,” he says after a few seconds, takes an awkward step back. ”I’ll leave you to it, then. Sorry.”

”See you around,” Lucas barely manages to get out, and then the guy is gone, just as quickly as he appeared in the first place. Lucas follows him with his eyes until he rounds the corner and disappears, then he lays his head on the table. It’s smooth under his cheek.

Then, a thumping noise startles him enough to sit back up.

Imane slides into the chair across from him, already busying herself with flipping through one of the approximately 50 books she brought with her, before saying, without lifting her gaze from the pages, ”You do realise that he was flirting with you, right?”

Lucas plays with the corner of his notebook’s cover. ”Yes,” he mutters. ”But I’m—you know. I’m here with you.”

He looks up at Imane just in time to see her roll her eyes, exasperated. ”It has nothing to do with that. You could have at least asked for his number or something.”

”Maybe I didn’t want his number,” Lucas says, and it comes out a little defensive. His phone buzzes with a notification so he busies himself with that instead of looking at Imane’s questioning expression. ”Maybe I’m not interested.”

”Lucas,” Imane says, this time looking straight at him and he can feel the weight of her eyes somewhere on his face. He locks his phone, then unlocks it, locks it again, just to pretend to be doing something. ”It’s really not my business, but he was exactly the type of guys you usually go for.”

Yeah, Lucas thinks, puts his phone away, screen down. Tall and messy-haired and smiling at strangers. Lucas knows this, and Imane knows this just as well. When he looks at her, the disappointed lines of her face clear as day, he knows what she’ll say even before she says it.

”You have to try to move on,” Imane tells him. It sounds softer than what Lucas was expecting. Imane’s eyes are soft, too, like Lucas rarely gets to see, dim with something he doesn’t want to think too much about.

Lucas thinks, I know. I know.

It’s not like he hasn’t been trying. It’s not like he’s too stubborn to make this kind of effort. After Eliott turned him down, he hid away for a moment, turned off his phone and locked himself in his room until Manon and Mika almost drove him nuts with their constant knocking on the door and are you feeling better’s but right now, he’s all good. The past is the past. Lucas really tries his best to not think too much about how Eliott’s expression looked when he confessed, or how he could barely look Lucas in the eye at all, or how Lucas has spent the entire walk home stubbornly wiping his tears away that night, even though they just kept and kept coming.

Those are all his memories, his and no one else’s, but he doesn’t want them. Revisiting that would be like poking at a bruise — causing unnecessary pain. Not letting a wound heal fully like it should.

And that’s what Lucas has been doing. Healing. He just needs some time.

”I have moved on,” he says stubbornly, not wanting to hear any more of Imane’s too-soft tone, then thinks, I am moving on. I am. ”Anyway, can we get started?”

He gestures to the books that Imane has brought. She shoots him another look, one that lasts a second too long, but then just nods without any further comments.

For the next two hours, they talk about something else.

On Saturday, the sweltering heat finally dies down to something resembling nice breezy summer. Lucas wakes up to sunlight filtering through the curtains and specks of dust swirling in the air where they’re visible in the light. He drags himself out to the kitchen, and it’s early enough for no-one else to be up yet, so he makes himself a coffee and a sandwich and takes the breakfast to the balcony, just because he feels like it. There’s a dog barking somewhere, and a few cars driving by. He can hear someone laughing, sharp and bright and quick.

Then, his phone buzzes with a text notification.

It is, because that’s just Lucas’s life, from Eliott. hi, it reads, are you free tonight?

Lucas is. He doesn’t want to say he’s always free for Eliott because he isn’t supposed to think that way anymore, but somewhere in the back of his head, it rings true whether he likes it or not.

sure, he texts back. want to hang out?

Because, see — they’re still friends. They can still be friends. It’s what he told Eliott that awful night he confessed, after Eliott, beautiful and so, so gentle, turned him down, looking like he was about to cry himself. I don’t want to ruin what we have, Lucas had told him, sounding a little shaky, feeling a little like a child, silly and overdramatic and inexperienced. I’ll get over this. I promise I will.

He can’t blame Eliott for not loving him back. Love is not something you can force yourself to feel. And Eliott never asked for any of this, never asked for any of those messy, overwhelming feelings that Lucas just couldn’t keep a hold on. There was never a reason for Lucas to count on anything, really.

As he finishes up his coffee, he looks over the railing of the balcony. There are two girls in the middle of the sidewalk downstairs, talking about something as they walk. One of them is gesturing animatedly, and the other nods from time to time, and then Lucas watches as she, unexpectedly, catches the other girl’s hand in hers and presses a quick kiss to her knuckles. Her expression is fond, then only grows fonder when the other girl’s face creases up in a smile.

Lucas turns his eyes away.

There is a theory he’s spent a lot of time reading about, a theory that he likes. It’s about alternate universes. According to the theory, there’s an infinite amount of worlds just like this one, somewhere out there, only slightly different. Lucas likes to imagine them, sometimes, because it makes him feel at peace — a world where he still lives in his old house. A world where his parents never split up in the first place. A world where everything is the same, except his eyes are green instead of blue.

i’ll pick you up at 9, Eliott writes back, and then sends another message. It’s a heart.

Lucas stares at it until the screen of his phone goes dark.

”You have to try to move on” is just a nice way of saying ”He’ll never love you back”. Lucas knows this. That’s okay. It feels a little pathetic, this whole ordeal, but then again, it’s been almost exactly three months since he confessed. He’s had enough time to swallow the hurt down. Bury it somewhere where no-one else would see.

According to the multiverse theory, besides the universe where Lucas’s family stayed together or where his eyes are a different colour, there also must be a universe where, somehow, Eliott loves him back.

It’s not a bad thought. If some other Lucas managed to get everything that this Lucas doesn’t have, then, well. Good for him. It’s not like Lucas is unhappy. He’s okay.

Three months is enough to get over someone.

A throwback again, to the same time and the same place: Lucas thought he had a chance. He thought there was something in the air that night that made things possible. He came over to Eliott’s just to hang out like they’ve done times and times before. Eliott let Lucas pick the movie, then promptly retracted the offer when Lucas said, ”Can we watch Green Lantern?” and they ended up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn in Lucas’s lap and Eliott’s head leaning against Lucas’s shoulder. Eliott was busy explaining the individual shots that he really liked. Lucas was busy making comments and stuffing his face with popcorn and looking at Eliott instead of the actual film. It was nice. They were comfortable and close and talking in hushes voices, leaning into their shared space. Lucas thought he had a chance.

He never did, apparently.

At 9, when Lucas gets downstairs, trying to put on a jacket and simultaneously stuff his keys into the back pocket of his jeans, Eliott is already there. The sun has just gone down, and in the thinning out light, he looks like someone out of a dream. Lucas smiles when Eliott turns his head at the sound of the front door of the building opening, then closing.

”Hi,” Eliott says, already grinning as well, and pushes himself away from the wall he was leaning against, then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket, like he’s shy. Something quivers in Lucas’s chest and he smothers it.

”Hi,” he answers, looking up at where Eliott’s still smiling at him. ”So, what’s the plan?”

Eliott shrugs, then raises an eyebrow with a glint in his eyes. ”Let’s see where the night takes us?”

And Lucas, laughing a little, says, ”Okay,” and falls into step next to him as they go, shoulder to shoulder, almost close enough to brush.

In reality, not much has changed. That’s something Lucas is really proud of, actually. Apart from the first few awkward days where they acted around each other like strangers and a few sad moments Lucas has to swallow down every now and again, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. They joke around, and Lucas shoves Eliott away when he starts to make fun of how Lucas should probably get a haircut but refuses to, and then they get on a bus and sit in the seats right next to each other, their heads bent together. The whole bus is empty. Lucas keeps stealing glances at where Eliott’s profile reflects in the glass of the window.

This is exactly what Lucas doesn’t want to ruin. This — Eliott being so laid-back and relaxed around him, laughing freely, bright. In moments like these, Lucas feels more himself than he does anywhere else. He can’t afford to lose it, everything they have, how well they work together, just because he’s looking for the sun at midnight, just because he was stupid enough to fall in love.

And at one point, when he asks about one of Eliott’s art projects, Eliott suddenly whips his head around, and, eyes huge, says, as if enlightened, ”Oh my God. I know where I’m gonna take you.”

”Oh, yeah?” Lucas says, and then lets his smile widen a fraction. ”Let me guess, is it McDonald’s?”

”Shut up,” Eliott mutters, his own smile widening, too. ”That was only once.”

Lucas laughs, then, and looks and looks, at the curve of Eliott’s smile and at the slight colour high in his cheeks, until they get to the next stop and Eliott drags him out of the bus.

They only talked about the confession once, during a party at Emma’s, at the very end of their awkward phase. Lucas came out there to finally head home after moping in the corner for hours on end and spoiling his friends’ moods. Eliott was simply already there. They ended up sitting on the pavement with the party music pouring from the speakers from behind the closed front door, huddled close. Lucas remembers feeling relieved at the proximity, and also like someone punched him in the gut.

”Do you have any idea,” Eliott asked him then, quiet under the night sky, sitting so close that Lucas was half-afraid he might do something stupid, ”what it’s like to be told that by someone like you?” And then, shaking his head, quieter, ”I don’t deserve that at all, Lucas. Not from you. I wouldn’t be good for you, you— you’re just so—”

Lucas said, then, unsure of how to respond but desperately wishing for things to just fall into place again, ”It’s okay, Eliott,” even though it wasn’t, even though it was nowhere near as easy. He kept thinking, why can’t you just tell me that you don’t feel the same?

”It’s not okay,” Eliott told him then, looking a little broken and so, so sad. ”I just—I wish it was different.”

Me, too, Lucas thought but didn’t say it.

”We’ll figure it out, Eliott,” he only said instead, proud of how sure he sounded even when did not feel like it as he got up, because it was time to go home. And even if there was something in Eliott’s gaze when their eyes met, something heavy and dim and unsettled, Lucas decided to write it off as a trick of the light. ”We will.”

They end up, somehow, in an art gallery.

Or something of sorts, anyway. Lucas doesn’t know why it’s still open and running at 9:30 at night, but it’s nice, he guesses, or as nice as an art gallery can get, anyway. There aren’t many people here, and Eliott claims that the exhibition is something he’s seen before and liked very much, so Lucas lets himself be taken by the hand and lead inside and only complains a little bit, just for show.

Eliott’s hand is warm in his, and for a second, Lucas allows himself a bluff. A what-if. Between one breath and then next, he can pretend they’re something else. Then, he moves his hand away first and ignores the look Eliott sends his way.

He doesn’t know much about art, arguably. He was never good at it, because, again — he’s a science guy. And there are many paintings here that he doesn’t understand, full of sharp lines and patches of colour, but they’re pretty. He stops in front of a painting of the sunrise, soft and full of light, full of blues and pinks and muted oranges and stands and just looks until Eliott finds him.

”What do you think?” he asks, stopping just shy of Lucas’s shoulder. He sounds curious but also a little nervous. Lucas doesn’t really understand why, so he just brushes it off.

”It’s nice, I guess,” he says, still looking at the painting, but then shifts his eyes onto Eliott and discovers that his expression is just as bright as the landscape on the canvas in front of him. ”I don’t know why you chose an art gallery as a form of entertainment for me, though. I’m not really big on places like that.”

”I’m aware,” Eliott chuckles, but then, startlingly, ducks his head and shrugs like he always does when he’s shy. ”But the first time I saw it, I thought of you, and—I wanted to bring you here. To see it, too.”

And—oh.

Lucas kind of just…stops. At that.

Because, you see — he’s been trying his best. He’s been careful and withdrawn and afraid, just a little, of reminding Eliott of what he’d said, of how he feels, when Eliott made it so, so clear that he doesn’t want that. That he doesn’t want whatever Lucas has to give, whatever Lucas took and tried to push into his hands that night three months ago, all of his crushing, throbbing feelings, this whole mess. And he’s been doing well. Most of the time, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. Lucas is okay. Lucas has been making progress.

But every once in a while Eliott does or says something — texts him a heart or takes him by the hand or says ”Do you have some time” or ”I saw it and thought of you”, take him to look at art because it’s something he wants to share with Lucas and Lucas alone, and all the painstaking progress he has made goes teetering down, down and back to square one.

Lucas doesn’t know how many times he’ll be able to take it. There is something lodged in his chest that suddenly makes breathing difficult. He thinks, I’m so stupid. So, so dumb.

Something must show on his face, or maybe he’s been quiet for too long, or maybe Eliott just knows him too well, because he asks, rocking on his feet, his voice tentative, ”Do you like it? Here, I mean?”

What does it matter to you, Lucas thinks, but swallows the words down, because they wouldn’t be fair. Eliott cares, is all. He knows that. They’re friends.

”I like it, yeah,” he answers instead, then watches another smile break across Eliott’s face, impossible, prettier than all the art in the room.

Lucas thinks back to the balcony, to the girls he saw on the sidewalk in the morning, to fond smiles and kisses pressed to knuckles, to feeling like he was intruding on something he had no right to, and feels like Eliott and his smile and this whole goddamn scene is another thing like that. Something stolen that does not belong to him. Something that is not meant to be his at all.

”I’m glad,” Eliott tells him. His words sound nothing but sincere.

They move onto another painting.

But maybe the truth is this — Lucas is tired of feeling like him being in love has become something to be ashamed of. Before, he’d thought that now when Eliott knew, maybe the feeling of it all would lessen, would become less biting, simmer down to friendship again, but it didn’t. It’s still there, no matter what he does, whether he covers it up or screams it from the rooftops, and he’s tired of hiding something everyone knows about anyway.

It’s not fair, pretending he never confessed, when it took so much courage and strength and nerve.

It’s not much of a revelation, really, but Lucas can’t help but feel very, very dumb. He meets up with Imane again and can barely look at her, keeps thinking, you were right, you were right as always. He goes to class, and to work, and spends the evenings lying on the couch, watching reruns of old TV shows with Mika and Lisa arguing over whose turn it is to choose the channel this time. It’s not bad. The acute awareness of I’m still in love doesn’t change much.

Except when Eliott texts him now, he barely even answers and doesn’t pick up when he calls and lies that he’s busy when Manon suggests that they all go out together. It’s awful, and it makes him feel guilty and like a failure, but he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s all he has left, he tells himself, because Eliott is not his to have. He’s been reading too much into his smiles, and his soft touch, and how bright his eyes get sometimes, into little drawings on coffee cups and text messages saying, let me know when you get home safe.

It’s just how Eliott is. And if Lucas can’t do anything about his stupid wishful thinking, if what Eliott can offer is not enough for him, then maybe it’s better if he doesn’t get anything at all.

It’s sad, in the beginning, but he likes to think he withdraws slowly. The unanswered texts pile up on his phone one by one, and Manon asks less and less about why he doesn’t hang out with them as much anymore, and once, when he sees Eliott in the hallway in-between his classes, he shoots him a smile and scrambles out of sight before anything else can happen.

He misses Eliott so goddamn much. It grows in his chest like vines, this ache, winds around everything else he feels and taints it. But Lucas only allows himself to feel it when it’s late into the night and the apartment is quiet and his thoughts have nowhere else to go. Because, again — Eliott is not his to have. Not his to miss. This is not a universe where they’re together.

He just needs to get it into his head.

And then, one night as he’s getting off his shift and closing up, stepping into the dark of the streets, Eliott is, for some reason, there.

He looks slightly unsure of himself, as if the sun, when it went down, took away the usual bright aura he radiates. His hands are in his pockets, and his hair is a mess. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and something flits across his face when he realises Lucas has spotted him, but then he comes up to where Lucas is standing with the keys still dangling from his hands, in big, quick strides like he’s afraid Lucas will run off, as if he has anywhere to go.

”Can we talk?” is the first thing Eliott says.

So they talk.

It feels a little bit like the conversation they had after Lucas confessed, the one when Eliott had told him ”I wouldn’t be good for you”, the one when Lucas had said, ”We’ll figure it out,” only to fuck up everything even more in the end. They wander through the streets in silence at first, Lucas unsure of what exactly is happening and stupidly happy to see Eliott again, almost despite himself, all at the same time. He can’t help but steal glances at Eliott’s profile, coloured golden in the light of the street lamps.

Then, Eliott says, ”So. You’ve been avoiding me.”

It’s not really a question. Lucas supposes that’s fair, since his behaviour left so little room for doubt. He holds the confirmation like breath in his lungs, then lets it out as a sigh. ”Sorry.”

If Eliott was expecting him to deny, it doesn’t show on his face. Lucas watches him lick his lips. ”Did I—” Eliott stutters. ”Did I do something? Did I say something stupid?”

Something unfurls in Lucas’s chest, then, the vines grow and grow and make it a little bit harder to breathe.

None of this is Eliott’s fault. That’s what Lucas keeps thinking as they walk, as Eliott waits for an answer, as they keep looking at each other like that could serve as a reply instead. None of this is on Eliott. It’s all Lucas and his stupid, stupid heart, him looking for the sun at midnight, him reading too much into Eliott’s kindness, because he just never learns. That’s all.

”No,” he says, looks down on his feet, then up again. ”You didn’t do anything.”

”Then what’s wrong?” is what comes next. Lucas breathes in, breathes out. ”Are you alright?”

”Yeah,” he says. I was just busy, he wants to say, with school and work, you know how it is. But that would be a lie. He was never too busy for Eliott before. Maybe that was the very first mistake in all of this. ”I’m okay.”

”Then—” Eliott starts, quietly, and doesn’t finish. Why, is what he really wants to say; Lucas realises that but pretends that he doesn’t, only walks alongside Eliott and waits for him to speak again, looks at the pattern of light-dark-light as they pass the street lamps. Then, Eliott takes a breath, looks ahead. ”I know it’s not really my business,” he says, ”but—we’re okay, right? Because I feel like I did something. I just— I really miss you.”

And just like that, it’s too much. It’s too much.

Lucas says, ”I’m still in love with you.”

Eliott turns his head fast, surprised. He stops walking. Lucas slows down, too, stands centimetres from where another streetlamp is casting yellowish light on the nearby building. Eliott looks dumb-struck and a little scared, and Lucas looks at him and thinks that he has no right to, because it’s not like he didn’t know. It’s not like Lucas didn’t tell him.

And here they are again, a different time and a different place but the same two people and the same situation. Here he is, defeated and pathetic and like he’s stuck in some sort of fucking loop. It’s so unfair, he thinks, his chest suddenly too small for his heart, too tight for his lungs. So unfair.

”I know you don’t want to hear it,” he goes on when Eliott doesn’t say anything but just stands frozen still, his expression twisted into something Lucas is afraid to work through, ”and I’m sorry. I really tried to keep things how they used to be, but I can’t. I tried to stop—” A breath. Lucas feels shaky. ”I tried to stop feeling the way I do because I didn’t want to ruin anything, but I can’t. Not when you keep acting the way you do and keep saying all those things—”

”What things?”

Eliott sounds very small. Like he isn’t sure what to say but needs to say something anyway, like he’s scared. Lucas is scared, too, just a bit. All the words he says sound like coming from underwater.

”That you miss me,” he hears himself answer and only half-registers that it is really his own voice that’s sounding so strange. ”That you think of me. Everything, I don’t know.” His next breath sounds watery, and Lucas isn’t crying, but he’s almost there. He tries to push through it. ”It’s not like you don’t realise that, right? I know it’s easier to just pretend I never said anything, but the truth is that I did. We both know that. I don’t think it’s fair to pretend everything is still the same.”

Eliott casts his eyes down. It takes him a moment to say, ”No. It’s not fair.”

And Lucas, stupidly, because for just a second he can’t help it, thinks about some other universe, then, where a different Lucas and a different Eliott are happy. Where they kiss on street corners and hold hands as they walk down the sidewalks and where some other Lucas is allowed, impossibly, to lift some other Eliott’s hand to his lips and press a kiss there, too, or to his cheek, to the curve of his jaw.

”I meant what I said about still being friends,” he says after a while, and it burns in his throat, but in this universe, it’s all he gets. ”It’s still important to me. I just need to work through it all, so that we can go back to how things really used to be, this time.“ He licks his lips. "I don’t want to ruin this any more than I already did.”

”Lucas, you didn’t—” Eliott sounds almost as bad as he does. Lucas doesn’t think about the reason. ”You didn’t ruin anything, listen, I—”

”I just need some more time,” he cuts in, because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle Eliott saying ”Please don’t do this” one more time, if that’s what Eliott wants to tell him. ”Some time and some space and I’ll really—try and just. You won’t have to listen to it again. I promise.”

Eliott is quiet, then. The vines in Lucas’s chest grow and grow until there’s no more room left.

”I’d take it back if I could,” Lucas says after a moment because it’s the truth, and it feels important, somehow, that Eliott knows. He’d take it all back. All of his scattered, burning, unwanted feelings and keep them away, safe and only for him to deal with. ”I would. But I can’t. I’m sorry that I need so much time.”

For a second, Eliott looks like he wants to say something, but whatever is it, it never leaves his mouth.

So in the end, Lucas only says, ”See you later,” and then goes.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #skamfr #my writing #pls before u come into my inbox screaming remember that it's part 1 #asks #what is going to happen in part 2 u ask? jk nobody asks that

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stoven-harrington · 4 years

Text

Pre-Christmas Kiss

I did it! I’m so happy I managed to finish this since It’s so freaking cute

Prompt: Hurry up and kiss me so if anyone asks, we can blame it on the mistletoe

I’d like to thank @joekeeray for letting me use their prompt. You’re the best!

Warning: FLUFF

Ship: Robin x Reader

There was snow falling everywhere as I sat by the window, a hot chocolate in my hands. I blow hot air on the window and draw a snowman. Of course, my art skills weren’t the best but I tried, adding details like a top hat and scarf. The snowman looks dopey and I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Hey, what’s that hot stuff?” Whipping around, Robin is leaning on the doorway of the living room, grinning as she gestured to my work.

“Nothing, just a snowman. It’s cute, right?” She laughs, walking over and hugging me from behind. Her lips brush on my ear as she says,

“Not as cute as you are.” Feeling my cheeks burn from the comment, I bashfully swat at Robin’s arms wrapped around me.

“Stop it, Robin.” Robin nuzzles into my neck, giving me a quick peck on my skin. I could feel my body grow warm and my heart rate spiking.

“Just telling the truth. You’re just so cute.” I giggled, not knowing what to say. If only Robin knew what effect she had on me. If I tried to speak, I’m pretty sure I’d be stumbling over my words. I take a sip of my hot chocolate instead, hoping that the drink will ease the butterflies in my stomach.

“Oh god, can you take this somewhere else?” Steve strolls in, carrying a box of decorations. Robin pulls away, almost causing me to groan when the lack of warmth. She turns to Steve, resting a hand on her hip and grins.

“Why? Jealous much?” He rolls his eyes, placing the box on the coffee table and gesturing to said box.

“Well, some of us, came here to actually help Mrs. Y/L/N with her party, not make kissy faces with her daughter.” Just then, mom walks dressed like Christmas herself and smiles brightly at all of us.

“Merry Christmas!” Robin goes to stand near Steve, making sure not look to too suspicious while clapping as mom struts over to the center of the room.

“Wow, Mrs. Y/L/N, you look great.” Mom acts flattered and swats the air, grinning at Robin while posing.

“Oh, stop, this ol’ dress? It’s nothing.” I groan, mom always does this. She just wants attention over her new dress she got for the party.

“Gimme a break, it’s not even Christmas yet...” Mom shoots a glare before laughing.

“Ahh, my daughter is really funny.” She turns to Robin and Steve. “Anyways, I really want to thank you two for helping me out with the party. I’m so glad that Y/N has such wonderful friends.” Steve smiles and steps closer to mom. And here we see, a wild Steve trying to charm my mother. Will his ‘charm’ be effective? We shall see.

“Of course, Mrs. Y/L/N we’d love to help, especially for your parties. You always host the best get-together's in the neighborhood.” Mom giggles like a school girl. Steve’s charms prove effective. Well played, Harrington. Well played. Robin pipes up from behind Steve.

“Yea, just tell us what to do and we’ll do it.” Mom sighs happily, putting her hands to her chest.

“Ahh, I wish Y/N was like you two, instead of just watching her poor mother slaving away to make the best Christmas parties." I raise my hand.

“I’m right here, I can hear you.” She glances at me and tilts her head, giving me the look.

“Will then maybe you could also help.” Why didn’t I just keep my mouth shut? But before I could voice my complains, I see Robin perk up at the thought. Oh boy.

“Yea, Y/N and I could do one thing while Steve could do something else.” Mom grins at Robin, her face twisting into an even bigger smile. Oh no, I’m afraid. Mom places her hands on Robin’s shoulders as she turns around to face me, Robin beaming with pride that mom likes her.

“What a great idea, Robin. I have just the perfect job for you and Y/N.” I take another sip of my chocolate, slurping loudly while staring down mom. We don’t break eye contact even when I speak,

“Greeeaaattt. Just so you know, you may put me to work, but I’ll still hate every minute of it.” Mom waves away my statement, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, yes, as if you don’t love Christmas.” I laugh.

“Oh, I do, but not when I have to decorate the whole house like a bunch of elves threw up in the whole house.” She scoffs.

“Oh hush,” she steps away and grabs a small box next to the tree, walking over and dumping it near my feet, “now, you and Robin go put decorations along the doorframes. And don’t forget to hang the mistletoes.” Steve clears his throat, to get mom to look back at him.

“And what would you like me to do, Mrs. Y/L/N?” Mom is smiling from ear to ear and quite frankly, it’s lil creepy.

“You, my darling Steve, shall help me with the food and cookies. Come now, there’s so much to do.” She walks off into the kitchen, expecting Steve to follow.

“Coming, Mrs. Y/L/N!” He shoots me and Robin a thumbs up before following where mom went. I stare after him, wishing him luck. With mom, he’s definitely gonna need it. Robin chuckles, running her hand up and down my arm while stealing a quick kiss on my cheek. I let out a giggle and look at her dopey grin.

“Let’s hope dingus doesn’t do anything stupid. Come on, let’s go decorate the doorways.” She holds my hand and tries to bring me over to the box of decorations mom dumped on us but I groan. I try to turn around and reach for my hot coco when I feel Robin throw her arms around and pull me into her, dragging us closer and closer to the box. “Oh, no you don’t. We gotta do this for your mom.” I whine, still reaching for my coco, my arms stretching out. Damnit, why can’t I stretch my arms like Mr. Fantastic? Time to try a different tactic. I slump against her, and give her my best puppy dog look over my shoulder.

“But my coco…” She laughs, shaking her head. “No, you’re not tricking me.” I pout more, hoping she’ll cave in.

“Please, Robin, you know how I need my coco…” Her face softens for a quick second but then shakes her head again. “No, you just want to sit on the couch and not help. I want to make a good impression with your mother.” I bark out a laugh.

“Pffft, please, mom loves you and Steve already for just offering to help her out with her Christmas party.” She grins, seemingly proud of herself while still keeping me close to her and away from my coco.

“Really? Your mom likes me?” I scoff, tossing my hands up.

“Yea, she goes on about how you helped me with my paper for that one class and how you manage to help Steve to babysit the kids all the time.” I suddenly feel her loosen her grip at me as the grin on her pink lips widen. She’s so pretty, ugh, I’m so lucky she likes me. Wait- now’s not the time, it’s time for coco! She yelps as I quickly scramble out of her arms,even though I would love to be in her arms and snuggle forever, rushing over to the coco and down it as she yells at me. “Hey, Y/N!” I laugh like a menace when she snatches the cup from me, tipping it over to reveal nothing is left. She sighs, glancing over and giving me a pointed look. “Really?” I shrug.

“Hey, never get between me and hot coco, you will lose.” She tries to hide her smile by looking away but I could see the happiness in her eyes.

“Guess I have got to keep that in mind next time.” She places my cup on the table when I nudge her shoulder a bit, curling my hands around her arm and leaning into her.

“Come on, I’ll make it up to you.” She tilts her head over to me, giving me a better view of her gorgeous ocean eyes that I love to look at.

“How?” I jerk my chin at the box.

“By helping you leave an even better impression for my mom.” She pouts for a moment before shaking her head.

“Fine. I can’t win with you.” I grin while picking up the box, walking into the next room.

“Okay, so mom’s gonna want things perfect and has a certain way of putting the-” I spin around and see her gawking at me, leaning into the doorframe. I quickly put the box down on the table of the dining room and run my fingers through my hair. Noooo, there’s not knots and it’s not a mess. I wipe my mouth, hoping that I don’t have a chocolate ring around my mouth. Alright, there’s nothing that would make her stare at me like this, what gives? I gesture at my face and body, not breaking eye contact. “Is there something I’m not seeing here? I got something on my face or what?” She starts laughing, shaking her head.

“No, just amazed how quickly you changed your tune. Anyways, what do I have to do?” I huff before clearing my throat. She’s lucky I like her. I direct my attention to the door frames, pointing at the ones in the room.

“Okay, so as I was saying, mom has a way of putting these things up and-”

“Hey where do these go?” I turn around, Robin holding up the mistletoes with a curious look.

“Those go on each of the door frames, just like they did last year, remember?” She shakes her head.

“Ah no, I don’t, cause we weren’t dating at the time, ‘member?” Ahh that’s right. Steve’s family and I were always friends so me and Steve were friends but Robin was different. Robin and I didn’t really talk much in school but when we all worked in Scoops Ahoy, we grew close. To the point that Steve ended up being the butt of all our jokes. I smile at the memories.

“Right, I forgot. Ever since the summer, it just felt like you’ve always been there.” The times where we’d tease Steve on trying to flirt, nagging Steve’s kids, eating at diners during our lunch breaks and after shifts. Then the shit hitting the fan: sneaking into the Russian’s ‘secret’ underground facility, getting drugged up with truth serum, Robin confessing her crush on me, trying to save the kids from the monster, running into Robin’s arms for safety. All that feels like a lifetime ago but I can’t think of my life before meeting Steve and Robin. Not anymore. She flashes a soft smile back, walking over and standing next to me.

“Yea, it does feel like that huh?” We couldn’t really say anything, the memories and the unspoken understanding of what we went through. We both just stood there but I couldn’t help but reach for Robin’s hand, squeezing it, reminding myself that we’re here for each other. She doesn’t look at me but she squeezes my hand just as hard. After a moment, Robin laughs quietly, pulling away and turning to face me. “Hey, I just got an idea.” I could see the wheels spinning in her head and I let out a groan.

“Oh man, I’m afraid.” Hiding her hands behind her, she leans her face close to mine, grinning.

“You love my ideas.” Okay, I do agree with her: some of Robin’s ideas are pretty awesome. My favorite idea she had was ‘borrowing’ Steve’s car and swimming in the lake under the stars. But not like I’d ever tell her that, at least, not to prove her point right now. She’d be so smug but I am curious.

“Fine, what is your idea?” She leans back, shaking her head. “I’m not telling buuuttt, I do need you to close your eyes.” I cock an eyebrow at her. What is she gonna do? I wanna know but I also want to tease her a bit though. I grin, crossing my arms.

“Oh yea? What if I don’t want to close my eyes?” She groans, pouting her soft pink lips out as she slouches a bit. NO, NOT THE LIP POUT! I’m too weak!

“Come on, humor me?” She’s not playing fair and she knows it! Ughhhh, damnit. Weakly, I nod and her whole face lights up. “Great!” I knew it, it was all a trick. Guess this is what I get for messing with her earlier. I almost open my mouth but she gestures to my hands. “Go on, cover your eyes.” I roll my eyes.

“Alright alright.” Complying, I cover my eyes and stand still. I can hear her walking further into the room.

“Are your eyes closed?” I huff out a sigh. Maybe I should just lie and peek at what she’s doing? Just what does she have planned?

“Yes, yes, my eyes are closed.” I hear her rummaging through the box and my curiosity perks up. Seriously, what does she have planned with the decorations?

“You sure?” I didn’t even have to see her to know she was smirking. She knows she got me. I really should just open my eyes and ruin her fun but deep down, I’m excited.

“I’m sure, Robin! What are you planning here?” She laughs, her footsteps moving around the room. I start to sway around, hoping she’ll just tell what she’s doing.

“You’ll see in a sec, just wait.” The suspense is killing me! She doesn’t say anything for a bit and all I can hear is her walking around and the sound of chimes from one of the decorations we have. There’s nothing for second until she lets out a yelp. I turn to the sound and almost open my eyes, imaging the worst but she suddenly yells, “Don’t! Keep your eyes closed!” Seriously?!

“That doesn’t sound promising!” She laughs again, sounding a little winded. She sighs.

“It’s was nothing, promise. Just: trust me.” I cross my arms, hoping that she sees my pose.

“Famous last words.” She says nothing else while the sounds of chimes continue for a bit until I something grab my hands. “Ah!” My heartrate spikes as I feel her breathe on my face as she chuckles, her hands running up and down my arms.

“Relax, babe, it’s just me.” I slump my shoulders, the racing in my heart pounding so loud in my chest. I still have my eyes closed as I squeeze her hand hard.

“Well, warn me next time, you gave me a heart attack. Can I open my eyes yet?!” “Not yet, just follow me.” She tugs me along quickly as I try not to stumble after her.

“Robin, slow down. I’m gonna trip over my own feet.” She ignores me and keeps tugging, dragging me to the spot until she stops.

“Okay, open your eyes.” The first thing I see is her, grinning like a madman as she looks up. Following her line of sight, I finally understand why she’s excited. Hanging above us is a mistletoe, and I can’t help but laugh as I look back at her. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her. “So?” I cock an eyebrow at her.

“This was your bright idea? The mistletoe?” She shrugs, the dopey smile never leaving her lips.

“Well yea. It’s tradition that whoever stands under the mistletoe has to kiss right?” Oh, I love this idea. I wrap my arms around her waist, enjoying the glint in her eyes as I run the tip of my nose down the side of her cheek.

“And we have to follow tradition. It’s the law.” She pulls back, looking up once more at the mistletoe then back at me again, shaking my shoulders and groaning.

“Yea so, hurry up and kiss me so if anyone asks, we can blame it on the mistletoe." We both laugh, staring into each other eyes until I look down at her lips. I’ve been looking at those lips this whole time. Her plump, pink lips look so inviting that just as she was about to say something else, I went for it. She ran her fingers through my hair as I try to pull her even closer, to get rid of any distance between us. I swore she could hear my heart rate racing even more when she rests her hands on my chest, sighing as she withdraws from the kiss. I giggle as I see the dazed look on her face. “Yea? How was that?” She blinks, staring at nothing for a second before rolling her eyes, acting nonchalant.

“It was alright…” Is she for real? I stare at her in shock.

“Are you serious?” She shrugs.

“Well, you know, someone said they didn’t love my ideas, so maybe this idea was a bust.” She steps away and turns around, attempting to walk away before I snatch her hand and yank her back in my arms. She looks at me expectedly, probably waiting to hear that I loved this idea. Oooo two can play this game. I grab her face and kiss her once more, kissing her lips, her cheeks, brushing my mouth down her neck.

“Oh yea, you wanna play this game?” She starts to squirm in my arms, giggling like crazy and I’m drowning in her wonderful voice. I can listen to her laugh forever. What were we even doing before? I completely forgot.

“Have you guys seriously been making out this whole time I was helping your mom with the cookies?” We snap our heads towards the door, Steve standing there with his hands on his hips. Me and Robin both look at each other and try to hide our smiles, pointing at the mistletoe hanging above us.

“No, we’re putting up the mistletoes.” Robin squeezes me closer, grinning at Steve.

“Yea, we’re just following tradition and kissing under it. It is Christmas tradition to kiss under the mistletoe after all, dingus.” He huffs, rolling his eyes as he walks closer to us.

“Yeah, I know the tradition. Can we get back to finishing up though? We only have a bit before guests arrive.” Finally, me and Robin let go of each other with a groan, letting our fingers brush together before drifting apart. Damn, I’d much rather cuddle with Robin and watch some tv right now. Ugh, damn Steve and his horrible timing. I glare at Steve, pouting with my arms crossed.

“Jeez, since when did you turn into my mother?” He scoffs, looking back at the doorframe then at me.

“ I am not your mother. Just hurry up, I rather not have your mom yell at us until after I try her amazing food.” I knew he had a reason for being here. ‘The goodness of my heart’ he said. HA! My ass. I point a finger at him.

“I knew it!” He flashes a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Go finish with Robin, I gotta head back to the kitchen to help your mom.” I wave him off as he heads out the room.

“Alright, bye doofus.” Once he leaves, I smirk at Robin, whose already done putting the rest of the decorations up in the room. “Wow, look at you.” She laughs.

“Yeah, I figured I should actually do something while waiting for you to finish talking to dingus.” She’s honestly the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. Without saying anything, I wrap her in a hug, so grateful that she’s here. She lets out a nervous chuckle. “Hey, everything alright.” I nod into her shoulder, not willing to let go just yet.

“Everything’s perfect. You wanna know something?” She draws back, looking into my eyes with slight concern.

“What?” I give a quick peck on her lips.

“This is honestly the best Christmas I could ever ask for.” The concern on her face fades and softens into a gentle expression, stroking the back of my hand with her thumb. Ugh, I love her.

“Same here.” I didn’t think it was possible to have such a happy moment after all the shit we been through yet here we are. And goddamn am I glad that Robin’s still here. Right here, holding my hands, being my girlfriend. She really doesn’t know how much I love her. But this moment is enough.

“Merry Christmas Robin.”

“Merry Christmas Y/N.”

#its a christmas prompt #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #yall this made me so soft just writing this #I hope you guys enjoy it #this was great to write out #robin needs a girlfriend to love #hella fluffy #fluffy af #i think it would be cute #this was my first time writing for Robin Buckley

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mythologyfolklore · 4 years

Text

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 15

Chapter Fifteen: The Odyssey, Final Part

After turning Odysseus into an elderly and ugly beggar and letting him know, what his son was up to, Athena flew to Sparta to inform Telemakhos, that he had to return home.

Odysseus himself on the other hand wandered through the landscape, until he found the house of his swineherd. There he was attacked and nearly ripped apart by the guard dogs. Fortunately, the swineherd saw what was going on and drove the dogs away.

After inviting him into his home and giving him food and drink, they bonded over their misery and Odysseus was pleased to hear, that Eumaios (that was the swineherd's name) wished for nothing more than his true king's safe return.

The “beggar” told a fib, that he had once been a rich man from Crete, but then had been struck by fate and now had nothing, but the rags he was wearing. He also lied, that he had heard of hims- uh, the great Odysseus. Eumaios was obviously sceptical, like any sane man would have been.

Seeing, that he wouldn't convince the other, the disguised hero suggested a bet and the swineherd agreed.

Then the latter and his fellow servants slaughtered a pig, sacrificed to the gods and the local Nymphai and then shared the meat with him and among themselves.¹

Later Zeus apparently thought it would be funny to let it storm and rain all night long.

Since Odysseus had nothing but his rags, he tricked the swineherd into letting him borrow his cloak.

Then everyone lay down to sleep.

Alone Eumaios didn't stay inside the house and preferred to sleep with the pigs outside.

Odysseus noticed and his heart was warmed at this display of dutifulness and loyalty.

Meanwhile, Telemakhos was having the time of his life in Sparta at the wealthy court of Menélaos and Helene, the godlike and glorious pair.

One night, he was visited by the goddess Athena in a dream.

“It's time to go back home”, she urged, “Even her family is pressuring your mother to remarry. Return home, before it's too late and she will be forced to take a new husband. You know what always happens, when a woman remarries. And another thing: her suitors are lurking along the channel between Ithaka and Samos, plotting to murder you. Sail another way home, at night and land at a more secret spot on Ithaka. Once there, spend the rest of the night at the hut of Eumaios, but send the ship and your companions to town.”

In the morning Telemakhos and his new friend, Nestor's son Peisistratos went to Menélaos and Helene and informed them, that they wished to depart. The king and queen quickly went to prepare splendid guest presents for the young men, beautiful items of both material and personal value; despite everything, neither Menélaos nor Helene had lost any of their generosity.

“Farewell”, Menélaos spoke, “And say hello to Nestor from me. He was like a father to me too², when we were at war with the Trojans.”

The two young men promised to do so.

Right in that moment, an eagle swooped down from the sky to kill a goose in the yard, startling several servants.

Peisistratos turned to Menélaos: “What does this mean? Is this omen directed to you or to us?”

Menélaos thought hard, but it was Helene, who answered: “Allow me. I know what it means, for the King of the Skies himself is my father. It's simple: the eagle that just slew the goose is Odysseus, coming home from his wanderings. The goose stands for the insolent suitors he will vanquish. Your father, Telemakhos, will soon be home or is already there and plotting his revenge.”

“Oh, may you be right!”, Telemakhos cried, “And I shall honour you like a goddess, if so!”

They said their goodbyes and left.

First the two princes returned to Pylos and Telemakhos dropped his new friend off.

“Say hi to Nestor and give him my apologies”, he spoke, “But I can't waste any time here and need to get home quickly.”

Peisistratos grinned: “Knowing my dad, he'll insist that you stay as his guest for a few days. He's really bull-headed, you know. Doesn't take 'no' for an answer. So you better sneak away, before he notices you.”

Telemakhos grinned back, said goodbye and quickly went back aboard.

The ship was about to leave the harbour of Pylos, ere Nestor could catch them and throw a hissy fit, because they hadn't even stopped long enough to say hi, when a stranger approached Telemakhos. He introduced himself as Theoklymenos a fugitive from Argos and gifted seer and begged the prince to take him along, as he was being pursued. Telemakhos pitied the man and consented.

On their way across the sea, the gods sent them good wind and they made quick progress.

When the sun went down, Odysseus' son bid the crew to make a detour to a more remote shore of Ithaka under the veil of darkness.

Meanwhile Odysseus was sitting with Eumaios and the other men at dinner.

Still wanting to test his hospitality, he informed the swineherd that he wanted to go to town the next day to beg. Or he could go and offer his services to the suitors for just a bit of food.

Eumaios stared at him, aghast. “Are you suicidal? Those men are violent and impious and have servants of their own, young and well-dressed men with pretty faces. No, stay here, where no one is bothered by your presence. But Odysseus' son will soon come home, he will give you food and clothes. Then you can go wherever you like, just … stay away from those brutes.”

Odysseus relented, wishing that Zeus would like this serving man as much as he did.

“But tell me about Odysseus' family”, he requested, “How are they doing? Who of them is still alive and who has descended to the underworld?”

“Well …”

Laertes was still alive, but living in misery away from the palace and wasting away from grief for his late wife and missing son. The old queen had passed away from heartache.

“… As for our queen Penelope … well, we can't expect kindness from her, ever since those cursed men have invaded our home and brought nothing but bale. As much as we want to speak to her, she has enough grief as it is.”

Later Odysseus and Eumaios were tending the fire, when the former noticed the dogs running around with wagging tails.

“Someone's coming, but the dogs aren't barking”, he pointed out to Eumaios. “That must be someone you know.”

He had just finished his sentence, when a young man about twenty, with chestnut hair and sharp mossy green eyes, entered the yard. Eumaios promptly dropped everything and went to welcome him, like a father would welcome his sorely missed son. There were lots of tears from the older and kind, soothing words and smiles from the other.

Odysseus' heart almost stopped, when he recognised his own son and he really wanted to be part of that, but had to contain himself.

Oh gods, how my baby boy has grown!

“How is the situation?”, Telemakhos inquired.

“Still awful.”

“Ah, nothing has changed then. Anyway, good to see you, my friend. And may I ask, who is this guest of yours?”

Eumaios related to him what he had heard.

The prince frowned. “Oh … oh dear. I will see, what I can do. Eumaios, I think you should keep him here for now. I will bring guest gifts to him and provisions, so he won't eat you poor. I would rather not allow him to go up to my hall, where the suitors are vying for my mother's hand. Their blasphemy and impertinence knows no bounds and it would break my heart to see them mistreat and disrespect this poor fellow.”

Odysseus took the opportunity and cleared his throat: “Excuse me, if you don't mind? I already heard about the behaviour of those men. That sounds really outrageous. Why do you just let them do as they please in your father's house? If I was your age or, say, the king himself, coming home from his wanderings, I would make them pay for their impudence in blood!”

Sadly, his son told him what the problem was.

Then he asked the swineherd to go up to the palace and tell Penelope, that her son was back home and would come to see her the next day. So Eumaios did.

This was just the moment Athena had been waiting for.

She appeared to Odysseus (but not to Telemakhos) and waved at him. He understood and followed her outside. The dogs sensed her presence and all began to whimper and cower in fear.

“It's time”, Athena spoke, “for your son to know you, Odysseus. You need to begin to plot the demise of your enemies together with him. I will be near at all times, for I too thirst for battle.”

With that she stripped the illusion off of him and restored him to his younger, vigorous and noble-looking self.

“Go back”, she said, “Your son has been wanting for you long enough, don't you agree?”

Telemakhos was thunderstruck, when the stranger returned from the outside as a strong, kingly looking man in his prime.

“Did you just … shapeshift?!”, he gasped, “Zeus have mercy on me! You're a god! Oh please, show us kindness and we will give you the best sacrifices we have to offer-”

“Whoa there! Settle down!”, the other man cried, “Don't compare me to the gods, it's as blasphemous as it is embarrassing. I'm your father! The man who has been kept away from you for twenty years! I'm home!”

And embraced him tearfully.

Telemakhos' head was spinning. “W-wait! This is too good to be true! I can't believe such a crass thing! How do I know, that I'm not being deceived by a Daimon? You can't be a mere mortal, you went outside as an elderly beggar and returned as a nobleman in his prime!”

“This was the will of Pallas Athena”, the older man explained, “She cast an illusion on me to make me unrecognisable and now she has stripped it away. It is easy for the gods to beautify or deface mortals at will.”

The younger man looked the other in the eyes. Often had he heard from others (especially his mother), that he had his father's eyes. And when he looked into the other's, they were the same as his own, only sharper, older and more melancholy.

Now Telemakhos burst into tears himself, hugged back and they both cried their hearts out.

Once they calmed down, Odysseus told his son about everything that had happened to him.

Then father and son began to make plans on how to proceed further.

At the palace, Telemakhos' companions and crew arrived, at the same time as Eumaios.

They informed Penelope, that her son was home and would be joining her soon, which made the grieving queen feel significantly better.

The suitors were miffed at those news and collectively went out into the yard to plot.

Their leader Antinoos (who also was one of the biggest dicks) suggested, that since their ambush had failed, they should try again and kill him more discreetly, before he could tell anyone, that they had tried to kill him.

Right in that moment, a livid Penelope herself stepped outside.

“YOU!”, she shouted furiously at Antinoos, “You bale-smith! You insolent fool! People used to say, that you're one of the best in counsel and speech, but I have seen nothing but the opposite from you! Have you forgot, that the King of the Skies himself is witness to all supplicants? Need I remind you, how your own father came here as a fugitive? A former pirate, who had incurred the wrath of both the people of Ithaka and of our allies, the Thresprotians, for attacking them! They wanted to kill him and raid his property, but my dear Odysseus intervened. And you! All you ever do here is consume his own goods without compensation, woo his wife and now you want to murder his only son! Cease your murder plots this instant and tell the others to do the same!”

It was Eurymakhos, who intervened and assured the angered queen, that no one was seriously plotting a murder (which was a lie; the only one who wasn't plotting was Amphinomos).

Penelope gave everyone a death glare and returned to her chambers, where she cried herself to sleep.

Next morning, Telemakhos decided, that he shouldn't let his mother wait any longer and prepared return to his palace.

Eurykleia, the old first maid saw him first and ran up to welcome him home. She was quickly followed by the rest of the household staff, until Penelope herself exited her chambers to see what was going on.

Tearfully she embraced her son and welcomed him home.

“My sweet light!”, she sobbed, “I feared I would never see you again. How could you just skulk out of my house without telling me?! Now you must tell me all about your journey!”

“Later”, Telemakhos promised, “First we need to properly invite the stranger I brought along from Pylos. And I really could use a bath. As for you, freshen yourself up and go to the house altar with the maids. Pray to the gods and promise them the best sacrifices we can give them, if Zeus will grant us retribution at last.”

Penelope did so.

When the young man came out refreshed, Athena made him more handsome than he already was, so that everyone who saw him stopped to marvel at his stateliness.

Maybe I should add 'Goddess of beauty' to my domains, she thought drily. Aphrodite's face would be absolutely priceless!

The young prince ignored the empty wheedling of the suitors and sat with his father's old companions, who asked him about everything that had occurred to him.

Later he finally reported to his mother what he had learned on his trip.

At that opportunity, his guest Theoklymenos approached Penelope and proclaimed, that Odysseus was already home and would soon end the wrong-doings of the suitors. Penelope didn't believe him, but still promised him riches, if his word came true.

In the meantime Odysseus (again disguised as a beggar) and Eumaios were going into town.

On the way they met the goatherd Melantheus, who immediately began to mock the two.

Eumaios scowled: “If Odysseus was here, he would shut your mouth!”

“Hah!”, Melantheus barked, “This will never happen! Your Odysseus is dead and will never return! And I hope that Telemakhos will soon be dead too!” The goatherd cackled and left.

Odysseus' blood was boiling, but he had to contain himself.

The two continued on their way.

As they came near to the royal palace, someone noticed them: Argos, Odysseus' faithful dog.

Twenty years before, the king had tamed him to be his hunting dog, but hadn't got to take delight him him, as he had been torn away from home. A long time ago, Argos had been well cared for and a stately dog, but these days he lay in a corner, neglected and plagued by ticks and fleas.

As soon as he heard the voice of Odysseus, he weakly lifted his head and ears.

Recognising his master, Argos happily wagged his tail, but was too weak to approach.

Odysseus saw his faithful pet and wanted to cry.

But he blinked away his tears and instead asked Eumaios: “Why is that poor dog lying there beside the dung heap? He must have been such a fine and good pet once. Was he a swift hunting dog, or was his owner just keeping him for luxury?”

“The former”, the swineherd answered sadly, “And if he was still in the same shape as he was, when our lord departed for Troy, you would be dazzled by his speed and strength. He was the best hunting dog a man could have. But now, that his master is away, the faithless servants neglect him.”

Odysseus' heart shattered, but he couldn't show it.

But Argos, having seen his master again after twenty years, finally passed on.

Seeing, that his faithful companion was no more, Odysseus swallowed his tears and continued on his way with Eumaios, hating that he couldn't grieve for his good boy openly.

They had just snuck into the hall and Telemakhos had given Odysseus some food.

After eating that, Athena advised him to beg the suitors for mild alms, just to see who had a modicum of decency.

He did so and most were pitying enough to give him some food.

But when Melantheus, the rude goatherd from earlier, told them that the swineherd had brought the beggar here, Antinoos verbally attacked poor Eumaios for his “impertinence” in bringing another freeloader here (which was hilarious, since the suitors were all freeloaders).

Eumaios was visibly upset, but kept his composure.

Telemakhos came to his aid. “Leave him alone”, he snapped at Antinoos, “And the stranger too! Really and that wants to be the future husband of my mother! Give him alms – it's the duty of the rich to the poor.”

Antinoos made a snappish retort and went back to his own meal, without complying.

The others had no objection to giving just a bit of food each of them; after all their meal was abundant.

But when the hero politely asked Antinoos for just a crumb of bread and the other just insulted him, Odysseus reproached his disrespect and unkindness. This made the suitor so angry, that he threw a chair at the older man. He didn't even stagger, but his anger grew and grew, though he still contained himself.

Even the other suitors were indignant at this and they chewed him out; after all everyone knew that sometimes the gods themselves came down from the heavens as lowly travellers to test the righteousness and hospitality of mortals.

Yet their irritation was nothing compared to the anger of Telemakhos, Penelope and some of the maids, who collectively wished to see this disrespectful prick dead.

The hero in disguise meanwhile sat in a corner and ate what he had been given.

Later Iros, another beggar from the city came to ask for food.

When he saw the older man sitting by the door, he told him to go away.

Odysseus glared and refused, saying there was enough for both of them.

Then the two beggars got into an argument.

The amused suitors suggested a fight and the winner would receive one of the big goat stomachs that were roasting above the fire.

The younger beggar had confidence in his youth, while Odysseus just considered, whether he should kill the other with one blow or just break his bones.

He decided on the latter, royally kicked the other's arse and dragged him out of the hall.

Impressed by the show and by his fighting prowess, the other men awarded him the promised goat stomach.

One of the friendlier ones, a young man named Amphinomos, toasted to him and wished him good fortune. Odysseus found this endearing and warned the younger to watch his back. This made Amphinomos so uncomfortable, that he spent the rest of the night brooding about it.

Not that it was of any use; his fate was already decided by the gods.

Soon after, Penelope came outside to speak to her suitors.

Athena had done her thing again and restored her to the full flower of her youth, while she had been asleep, so the suitors would be so captivated by her beauty as to cater to her every whim.

And indeed, they were struck by desire and began to ooh and aah, when they saw the woman they were wooing step into the room, albeit her face was veiled, as usual when she left her chambers.

Penelope whoever first said to her son: “Really, my son, you were more sensible when you were younger. How could you just stand by as these men here abused the poor stranger so terribly and disgracefully?”

“Your anger is completely understandable”, Telemakhos responded, “However, you must remember, that it would have been me against all of them. I have no helper here, there was nothing I could have done. All we can do is pray to Father Zeus, Pallas Athena and Phoibos Apollon, that these brutes will suffer a fate like Iros or worse.”

Thus they spoke to each other, until Eurymakhos approached them, another really unpleasant individual among the suitors.

“Oh shrewd daughter of Ikarios, if everyone saw you now!”, he cried, “You would have a lot more suitors in your hall by tomorrow, for you're the first of women in beauty, growth and mind.”

“I'm not nearly as beautiful as I once was”, Penelope replied, “My beauty and growth have been diminished by grief for the awesome hero, whom the gods took away from me. If he came back to me, my happiness alone would restore my beauty, but now I waste away without him by the will of the cruel Moirai. Before he left, he entrusted his states into my care, that I would watch over them and over his dear parents and that, once our son has grown into a man, I should leave the house and remarry, if I wanted to. That dreaded day is nigh and I will be forced to agree to the remarriage I loathe so. Your conduct causes me additional pain; never has there been such usage among suitors! Any honest men wooing and competing for a wealthy woman would bring life stock of their own to eat and rich gifts for the bride's family – instead of consuming the goods of another without any compensation.”

This prompted the men to send their servants to fetch precious gifts from their own quarters.

Penelope accepted them and retreated to her chambers, while her maids carried the valuables after her.

Odysseus' heart swelled with pride at how his dear wife had beguiled these men into showering her with gifts.

That's my wife!

In the evening, after Odysseus had endured more abuse from some of the worse suitors, Telemakhos had finally ordered them all to go to bed and sleep off their rush.

Finally alone, he and his son began to put their own murder plot into motion, first by hiding the armour and weapons of the suitors.

When Athena conjured a golden light to lead the way in the dark corridor, Telemakhos became aware of her presence and ooh-ed and aah-ed.

His father shushed him, saying that now was not the time to question anything and that this was simply the way of the Immortals, to stand by the mortals they liked, while remaining unseen.

Once they had hidden all the weaponry, Telemakhos went to sleep.

Alone again, he continued to hold counsel with Athena, until Penelope entered with some of her maids.

While the servants tidied up the mess the suitors had made earlier, one of the young girls insulted Odysseus for no reason. He just got to make a warning retort, before the queen herself interfered.

“Enough! Don't think that I don't notice your perpetually outrageous behaviour! Now shoo! For as you all know, I wish to talk to this man.”

The first maid brought a chair for Odysseus and all servants saw themselves out.

Once they were alone, Penelope addressed him: “So, won't you tell me, who you are, who your parents are and where you come from?”

“I will tell you everything”, Odysseus said, “except for that; my story is very depressing and will just make us both more miserable. I don't want to anger anyone by bawling inside your home, like a sad drunk.”

“I can't become more miserable than I already am”, Penelope returned and told him of her own misfortune.

For many years, she had been waiting for her husband to come home. After sixteen years, everyone apparently had decided, that she was now a widow – even though there was no proof he was dead – and men from Ithaka and the surrounding islands had come to woo for her unwilling hand.

She had claimed, that she needed to weave a fine burial shroud for her father-in-law. They had relented to give her the time to finish it. So she had weaved by day, but each night she had loosened the threads, so she'd had to start anew. This trick had worked for three years, until some treacherous maids had caught her and ratted her out to the suitors.

“Now I'm running out of excuses, my parents are pressuring me to remarry and my son is sick of these men consuming his property. I'm at the end of my wits. Even so, tell me your story.”

Odysseus yielded and served her the same made-up tragic life story he had told everyone, who had asked. He also claimed that he had met hims- uhh, the great hero Odysseus and hosted him for a few weeks, before sailing on to Troy.

This made Penelope burst into tears and wail for her husband, who was sitting in front of her, but she didn't know.

He really wanted nothing more than to hug her and never let her go, but he still needed to keep his act up.

“Just to be sure”, the poor woman sniffled, “Describe him to me. Just as you remember him.”

Odysseus frowned: “Oh dear … this will be tough, after all it was twenty years ago! Let's see …”

And described in great detail the very attire he had worn on the day he had sailed from Ithaka.

She cried harder, recalling that she had made the clothes for him.

After calming down, she accepted his tale.

He promised her, that her husband – ahem, was already here, ahem – would soon be coming home.

She didn't buy it, but ordered for someone to wash his feet.

The one chosen for this task was an elderly servant, whom Odysseus recognised as his nurse.

Eurykleia noted that he resembled her missing king.

“I used to hear that a lot”, he told her, “That he and I looked similar.”

She filled a basin with water and he scooted away from the fire into the shadows, fearing that she would recognise him.

As the old woman was washing his feet, her fingers brushed over the scar on his thigh.

She froze and old memories flooded her mind …

Antikleia had just given birth to her and Laertes' child.

The nurse was holding the screaming baby in her lap.

Suddenly the door opened and in came the mother's father: Autolykos, son of Hermes and a shapeshifting thief.

His teal-coloured eyes skimmed over the scene and he smiled.

Eurykleia lifted the baby from her lap and handed him to his grandfather.

“Come and say hello your grandson”, she invited him.

As soon as the baby boy sat on his grandfather's knee, he stopped wailing and stretched out his arms.

Autolykos laughed and held his finger out for those tiny hands to hold.

The nurse's smile broadened at the sight and after exchanging a glance with the proud parents, she asked the old man: “Do you want to pick a name for your grandchild?”

The demigod thought for a moment: “Hm … I was wroth at the world, when I came here. Give him the name I tell you: 'Odysseus', 'The Wrathful One'. For his life will be a hard, but glorious one. When he comes to age, send him up to my own property. For I have many presents I want to give to my grandson, when he becomes a man.”

When Odysseus grew to age, his parents sent him to visit his grandfather and uncles.

They welcomed him happily.

Later the day, he and his uncles went out to hunt, but he was attacked by a boar. He managed to kill it, only after the beast's tusks dug into his thigh, ripping away a chunk of his flesh.

His uncles took care of the wound and carried him and their spoils back to their father's home.

Autolykos healed his grandson and sent him back home to his parents with lots of presents.

There Odysseus told everyone how he had got that scar, which later on became one of his trademark features.

Eurykleia burst into tears and sobs: “It's you! You're Odysseus, my dear child! And I didn't even recognise you, before I touched your scar! You're back!”

In her joy she wanted to go and tell Penelope the good news, but Odysseus grabbed her.

“Not a word!”, he hissed, “Do you want to get me killed?! Keep your mouth shut! For if a god vanquishes the suitors through me, I will spare no one, not even you, my nurse.”

Eurykleia smiled crookedly, completely unfazed by the fact, that her master was gripping her by the neck. But she promised to remain silent.

“When you have defeated them”, she whispered, “Shall I tell you the names of the disloyal household members?”

“No need, I'll spot them on my own”, he declined.

She went to get new water and finished washing and salving his feet.

Odysseus scooted closer to the fire again to warm himself and concealed the scar with his rags.

Penelope, who had been distracted the entire time, continued their conversation from earlier.

“Before we go to bed, there are a few more things I want to ask you. Your words and behaviour have shown that you're a witty and clever man, so I would be obliged, if you could interpret this dream for me: I was standing in my yard and geese were picking up grain from the ground, when an eagle swooped down from the sky and killed all of them. I wept for the loss, when suddenly the eagle began to talk! He told me, that he was my beloved Odysseus, that the geese were my suitors and that he would be coming home soon to smite them all. Then I woke up. What does it mean?”

“Exactly as Odysseus told you”, the hero replied, “What you saw was the near future. He will come home and kill them all. It's as simple as that.”

Not quite that simple, but whatever.

“I don't know”, Penelope said doubtfully, “But I have an idea: tomorrow I will hold a competition. My husband has an extremely strong recurved bow that so far only he has been able to string. I will put up twelve axes with hollow heads and only a man equal to my husband will be able to string the bow and shoot an arrow through the twelve axe heads.”

I'm so in love with this woman!

“That's an amazing idea!”, Odysseus praised her. “Waste no time in holding the competition. But now it's time to sleep; soon it will be morning.”

She bid him good night and went to bed.

As he lay down near the fire, he noticed some of the maidservants sneaking out of their rooms into the suitor's quarters. He fumed with anger, but swallowed it – he had seen so many more outrageous things after all.

Right as he had finished that thought, he heard Athena's voice.

“Why are you still awake?”, she questioned, “Does it not soothe you to come back to see your wife still being so faithful to you after all these years? And that your child has grown into the best son a man could wish for?”

“You're right”, he agreed, “But I have worries – I don't think I can stand against so many suitors all by myself. And if I do, what will happen hereafter? Many will be angered at the murder of the entire noble population of my kingdom and those around.”

He heard her huff in frustration, before she began to scold him: “Alright, Odysseus, listen up! First off, where is your courage? Have you left it behind in Troy?! Secondly, have you forgot, that I'm always looking out for you? Many other men trust lesser companions than a god and you're still so doubtful? With me by your side, Odysseus, you could defeat hundreds of men – you did back in the Trojan War, just as Diomedes and Menélaos did. You know that. Mark my words, son of Laertes: in the morning you, your son and I will slaughter those many foes and leave none of them alive. As for the aftermath, leave that to me. Now sleep, for you need to rest before the fight tomorrow.”

Then he felt an irresistible exhaustion, as the great goddess put a deep slumber onto him.

Soon rosy-fingered Êôs brought the dawn.

Odysseus was woken up by the sound of his dear wife weeping.

Distraught by the sound and still nervous because of what was to come, he prayed for a sign from Zeus.

The King of the Skies heard and let it thunder.

In the yard, several women grinding corn to flour heard it and began to murmur. When Odysseus heard them wish, that today would be the last meal for the suitors, his heart was glad.

Soon Eurykleia shooed the maids out of their beds.

“Today is a day of celebration!”, she announced, “So off to work with you all! You know your tasks.”

The maids, significantly more awake at the news, hurried to do as told.

As they were scurrying around, the suitors swaggered him, some more hungover than the others and all rather grumpy at being woken up so early.

They were followed by Eumaios, who drove several fat pigs into the kitchen, before joining Odysseus in his spot beside the fire.

“Are they still disrespectful to you?”, he inquired.

The disguised hero scowled: “Yes and I wish they were dead.”

“Most here do”, the swineherd muttered.

As they were sticking their heads together, the goatherd Melantheus passed by.

“Are you still here, beggar? Fuck off and bother someone else!”, he snapped at Odysseus.

The latter didn't reply, just silently plotted the other's demise.

The rude goatherd was followed by another man, Philoitos, the local cattle herd.

“Sorry for that”, he apologised for the other, “He may officially be the goatherd, but his actual profession is being a prick. Greetings, good stranger! May you have better fortune in the future, though you live in misery right now. Gods, you look just like I remember our true lord Odysseus! I could tell from the very moment I saw you. Perhaps he suffers the same fate as you and has to wander the earth, ragged and begging for his bread. Meanwhile I am forced to drive the cattle he entrusted to me back then to this house for invaders to eat. Oh, if only he would finally come home and kill them all!”

Oh thank Athena, another ally!

Odysseus promised him and Eumaios, that what they were praying for would happen soon.

At the same time the suitors were still plotting how to discreetly murder Telemakhos, when they saw an eagle carrying a dove in its talons.

“It's not going to work”, Amphinomos spoke up, “Let's have breakfast instead.”

So they did.

After breakfast, they gathered at the shrine of Apollon to sacrifice to him and the gods, before eating the rest.

Apollon meanwhile was glaring down onto the scene.

“Get the fuck out of my sanctuary, you putrid scum!”, he snarled, “Get out! I'm not granting your worthless prayers!”

Zeus patted his son's shoulder. “There, there. They'll be dead soon.”

“I know, father”, the younger grumbled.

In Odysseus' palace, the king in disguise had grown even angrier than he already was, as Athena had warped the sanity of the suitors to rile him up more.

This didn't go completely unnoticed by Theoklymenos, the seer from Argos. He felt the presence of the war goddess and observed the nasty scene.

The suitors' faces distorted strangely, they were laughing unnaturally, while crying at the same time, the meat they were eating was bloody and they somehow sensed coming bale.

But when the prophet told them of what he was seeing, he got laughed at.

“The man is insane!”, Eurymakhos claimed, “Perhaps we should accompany him to the market place, since he sees only darkness here!”

“No thank you”, Theoklymenos replied nonchalantly, “I have functioning eyes, ears and feet and a perfectly sound mind. With their help, I'll leave this house now, for I see nothing but bale for you all, who commit outrage in Odysseus' house and disrespect everyone here. Farewell.”

Then he walked out like a boss.

While all this was happening, Penelope had gone into her husband's armoury to get his strongest bow, arrows and twelve axes.

She set the weapons up, gathered the suitors and proclaimed: “Alright, you freeloaders who had no other excuse than that you want to seek my hand in marriage! It's time that you earn it! Here I have my husband's strongest bow. The one of you, who strings this bow most easily and use it to shoot an arrow through all twelve axe heads, will win my hand.”

Eumaios and Philoitos wept, when they saw their lord's bow, but were mocked by Antinoos.

Latter hoped to be the one to win the competition – little did he know, that he would be the first to die by that bow and arrows.

But it was Telemakhos, who came forward first. “Let me try first, if I'm yet capable of wielding my father's priced weapon”, he requested and it was granted.

He readied the bow and tried to string it three times. But just as he was about to succeed, Odysseus gestured for him to stop now. Pretending to be disappointed, he stepped back.

One by one, the suitors attempted and failed to string the bow of cunning Odysseus and sat back down with huge dents in their pride.

While they were making fools of themselves, Odysseus and the cattle- and swineherd had left the room for a little.

“Tell me, you two, the truth and nothing but: if Odysseus now came home to reclaim his property, would you follow him or the suitors?”

“Odysseus!”, they responded in unison.

He smiled. “Good, because he's already here! It's me! After twenty years and many a misadventure, I'm finally home. And I see that of all my servants only you two and Eurykleia truly longed for my return; I heard none of the others pray for me to come home. But you shall know the truth: once I have vanquished the suitors, you two shall be rewarded with riches and a wife. You will be friends to my son and me. And should you be in doubt; see this scar on my thigh, done to me by the tusk of a boar, when I was hunting with my uncles on Mount Parnassos.”

They saw the treacherous scar, gasped in shock and tearfully hugged their rightful king.

“Now, now”, Odysseus stopped them after a while. “I'm afraid we need to postpone the happy reunion to later. Now you need to do exactly as I say: when we go back inside, I will ask to have a turn with the bow. They will refuse me, but you, Eumaios, give it to me anyway and then go to tell the women to go to their quarters and stay there, no matter what. You, Philoitos, go and lock the doors to the yard.”

Then the three snuck back inside.

There Eurymakhos was currently trying to string the bow. After a while he gave up, complaining loudly about how humiliating it was, that no one could even string the bow of godlike Odysseus.

“Eh, who cares”, Antinoos responded, “Who wants to string bows today anyway, it's the holiday of Zeus! Let's let everything lie and try again tomorrow.”

He sounded like a huffy child.

This is priceless!, Odysseus thought and smirked for a second.

Just as they had put away the bow and its string, the war veteran requested, that – just for the heck of it – he could have a shot at it (pun intended).

He met with much protest from the suitors, but Telemakhos and Penelope scolded them.

“Don't be stupid!”, Penelope snapped at Antinoos, “It's not like this homeless man, who isn't even competing for my hand, is going to take me home as his wife, even if he manages to string the bow – unlike you all. Leave him alone.”

“That he should marry you isn't our greatest concern”, Eurymakhos explained, “But we will become a collective laughing stock, when the people find out, that we failed to string your dead husband's bow, only to lose out to a beggar.”

“That's coming from you?”, Penelope retorted, “Your behaviour alone is a humiliation, that you intrude into another's home and waste wealth that isn't yours! Never once have you all acted like honest men! Furthermore, this man is well-built and prides himself in being a great man's son. If Apollon grants him victory, I will shower him with many gifts, so he may go on his way – and there is nothing you all can do about it!”

Telemakhos agreed, yet surprised his mother by sending her to her own quarters.

As Penelope left the room, Eumaios picked up the bow, handed it to Odysseus and then went to Eurykleia to instruct her as his king had told him earlier.

Philoitos skulked away to do his part of the plan and lock all the doors to the yard.

Odysseus took the bow and strung it with ease. As he tested the sinewy string, it vibrated musically under his fingers, like it was supposed to.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the suitors blanch. And they grew even paler, when he took an arrow and shot it through the twelve axes.

In that moment, it thundered.

He ripped his rags off, turned to his son and smirked: “Now, how about we serve these noblemen a supper like they've never had before?”

Telemakhos smirked back and pulled out his sword.

The first arrow hit Antinoos in the jugular, right as he was raising his cup.

The others jumped up, screaming reproaches at Odysseus.

But the hero growled darkly: “You dogs thought I would never return from Troy, did you? You plundered my property, had your way with my maids and wooed my wife, while I was still alive, but now you're going to pay!”

Eurymakhos tried to reason and promised rich compensation, but the answer was another death threat. So he spurred the other suitors on and they chose to fight, only to be felled by Odysseus' arrow.

Amphinomos attacked, but was slain by Telemakhos.

“Let me get you armour and more weapons”, he offered and his father urged him to do so, before he ran out of arrows. Telemakhos returned with a full armour and Odysseus put it on, once he ran out of ammunition.

One of the suitors sent Melantheus to fetch arms for the suitors. But the goatherd was soon spotted by Eumaios and Philoitos, who proceeded to bind him and tie him to a pole, before arming themselves and returning to fight by the side of their king and prince.

It was at that moment, that Athena came down, again in the guise of Mentor.

He obviously recognised her and asked for her help, while the suitors, who didn't recognise her, screamed for her to do the exact opposite.

This angered her and she spurred the war veteran on.

But before she would grant him a devastating victory, she wanted to feast her eyes on his battle prowess.

So rather than fighting along, she diverted the spears the suitors threw, while those of the four defenders hit their marks without fail.

After all four of them (she couldn't help but be surprised at the prowess of the cowherd and the swineherd) had slain about a dozen more suitors, she finally interfered for real.

She flew up to the ceiling and raised up the terrible Aigis.

The suitors froze in fear.

That just made it easier for Odysseus and his companions, who came upon them like birds of prey.

From here the suitors were massacred without mercy.

Only two men were spared at the request of Telemakhos: the singer Phemos and the herald Medon, who had both been made to serve the suitors against their will.

The two men were sent out and Odysseus looked around to check, if any of the suitors were still alive. But he and his son and comrades had slain them all.

Athena, having done her part for now, left.

“Go and get Eurykleia, my son”, Odysseus asked his son, “I need to talk to her.”

Telemakhos nodded and came back with the old nurse. When she saw her lord stand amidst all the corpses, like a lion or a wolf, she rejoiced.

But Odysseus shushed her. “Rejoice on the inside, old mother. It's not appropriate to cheer over slain men. I defeated them only, because the gods willed it so, for they showed no respect or reverence, while they were still alive. But now tell me, which of the maids are treacherous and which are innocent.”

“Of the fifty women who served your family, twelve betrayed them”, Eurykleia reported, “But now I will go upstairs and tell your wife, that-”

“Not yet”, Odysseus forbade. “First bring the traitors, so I may judge them. As for you three” – he turned to his son and the cow- and swineherd – “You can start carrying the bodies outside. Order the women to do the same and clean up the mess afterwards.”

This happened and once everything was clean and tidy, the guilty maidservants were driven into the yard and hung high.

Odysseus purified the halls with brimstone and Eurykleia called the remaining maids.

With tears of happiness, they embraced their king and welcomed him home.

And he also wept with joy, as he recognised them all.

Good Eurykleia ran upstairs to the chambers of Penelope as fast as her age allowed.

There she woke the sleeping queen: “Wake up, wake up, my dear child! Go downstairs, so you may see what you have been longing for for twenty years! Our lord, your Odysseus, he is finally home! He has destroyed the insolent suitors and he is back!”

Penelope glared weakly: “Have you woken me up, just so you could mock me? Have you gone mad, that you tell me such cruel things? I know it in my heart, my Odysseus is gone and will never come back to me.”

“I'm not mocking you, dear, I promise! He has been here for days now: it was the stranger the suitors always offended! Telemakhos knew the entire time, but kept it to himself, until all of the suitors were defeated!”

Now the queen leapt from her bed and tearfully hugged the older woman.

“Tell me all!”, she pressed, “The truth and nothing but the truth! How is it possible, that he alone defeated so many?”

Of course Eurykleia hadn't seen any of it; she had been in the servants' quarters with the other maids. But she told her queen what she knew.

Penelope was still in doubt though: “I don't believe it. It's too good to be true! Surely it was a god, who smote them all for their disrespect.”

“No, no! Listen; he has the scar on his thigh – the one he received, when a boar attacked him, while he was hunting with the sons of Autolykos. It's really him, I promise! If what I say is untrue, you may have me executed!”

The queen – wary as she was – still refused to believe her, but followed her downstairs anyway. Though Eurykleia could see that (deep down), the younger woman was hoping, even though she refused to act on it.

When they came into the great hall, Penelope saw Odysseus leaning against a pillar, waiting for whatever she would say upon seeing her husband.

But Penelope seemed dazed, almost numb even.

Telemakhos was frustrated by this and chided his mother: “What's with you? Why aren't you sitting with your husband and questioning him? Did you wait twenty years for him to come home, only to see him and just stand there and not even say anything? Has your heart turned to stone?!”

“No, no, I'm just stunned”, Penelope clarified, “My heart is so paralysed, that I can't bring myself to question him or even look him in the eye. But if he's really my Odysseus, I will find out myself.”

Odysseus chuckled: “Give your mother some time to let it sink in. Let her test me to her heart's content. She doesn't recognise me, because I'm looking so dirty and messy right now. But my son, we have some urgent matters to discuss. Don't forget, that we just killed the entire nobility of my kingdom and have to deal with the consequences.”

“Well, it's said that no mortal man can rival your cunning”, Telemakhos replied, “So, do you have a plan? Whatever it is, we'll follow you.”

“Good. And I do have a plan: order everyone to decorate the place, put on their best clothes and celebrate loudly, so that anyone who passes by might think that a wedding is taking place here. This ought to buy us some time, because no one must learn of the earlier massacre, before we have been to my property in the country and prayed to the gods, that they might give us a sign on how to proceed from there.”

The household staff did so and indeed, everyone outside thought, that Penelope had now chosen to marry one of her suitors.

Later that evening, Eurykleia drew a bath for Odysseus, salved him with olive oil and gave him fresh clothes and it seemed a god had made him look taller and more splendid.³

When he was all freshened up, he returned to where he had sat before.

“Still not looking at your husband?”, he asked Penelope, “Have I endured twenty years of hardship, only to come home to a wife, who ignores me and holds me in low regard?”

Penelope didn't answer, which frustrated everyone.

“Well then”, the king huffed, “Eurykleia, make me a bed somewhere, since I'll sleep alone tonight, apparently.”

Now Penelope finally spoke again: “I don't hold you in low regard at all, strange man. Eurykleia, go and make his bed in front of the bedchamber that he himself crafted a long time ago.”

Now she was testing, the old nurse could tell.

“What?!”, Odysseus exclaimed suddenly, “What is it that I have to hear? Only a god would be able to relocate my bed at all! I crafted the bedchamber around the huge olive tree, that was growing in the yard back then, and carved the bed with its wood, adorning it with ivory, gold and silver! It's impossible that anyone relocated it, let alone could push it through the door!”

But only Odysseus could know this and that was the irrefutable proof.

Now she burst into tears, embraced her husband and showered him with kisses. Odysseus cried also and held his wife tightly.

All the while Eurykleia was sobbing in the background, because now everything would be fine.

Athena smiled onto the scene.

Having done that part of her work, she saw herself out and went to persuade Êôs to postpone her tour across the sky for a few hours.

Her mortal friend and his beloved wife should have enough time to our their hearts out to each other and to get a little rest before the trouble that was to come soon.

Hermes laughed at the souls of the suitors, when he came to guide them to the underworld.

“I don't know, what you expected!”, he cackled, “Odysseus is my great-grandson! Whatever made you believe, that you could take what was his without consequence? Or that you could disrespect the laws of gods and men and get away with it? How could you think that we wouldn't favour him? Well, either way you got what you deserved!”

The souls whispered among themselves; they probably would have grumbled, but the dead had faint voices.

The Messenger of the Gods lead them to the underworld, snickering all the while.

As they came to the underworld, Hermes found some of the heroes of the Trojan War skulking around.

He lead the newcomers to the dock of Kharon and the ferryman began to take the first of them down the river (apparently they had been granted the tiny mercy of getting a coin for Kharon).

When they had arrived on the other side, the Achaeans were chatting among each other.

“What happened to you?”, Akhilleus asked Agamemnon, “I always was under the impression that Zeus liked you? So how come you died a miserable death, rather than getting a burial fit for a king?”

“You're lucky, that you died a glorious death at Troy”, Agamemnon replied, sullen. “You got a splendid burial befitting a great hero like you were.”

Then he proceeded to tell Akhilleus all about it, which was rather boring for some (including Hermes, who chose to leave them behind to visit Hades and Persephone).

“Even in death you were honoured above all others!”, Agamemnon finished his account of the other's burial, only to start wallowing in self-pity.

“And me? What did I get for surviving the war?! Get this! I just got home from Troy, when I was murdered by my cousin Aigisthos and my slut of a wife!”

“Oh, that's so tragic!”, Akhilleus replied sarcastically.

Agamemnon ignored him and let his eyes wander over the newcomers, until he spied a familiar face.

“Hey! I know you! You're one of Menélaos' bastard sons! What happened to you?”

“Odysseus happened!”, Amphimedon groaned, “To all of us here!”

Then he proceeded to tell his uncle all about how they had wooed Penelope, how she had put them off for four years, tricking them and of how Odysseus had finally come home and killed them all.

“Damn!”, Agamemnon exclaimed, “Odysseus, you lucky man! You got one of the few good women in this world for your wife! The world will forever praise her loyalty! Unlike the daughters of Tyndareus and most other women, who are fucking disloyal whores-”

“Hey!”, Akhilleus barked, “Take your unmanly misogyny and shove it up your arse! No one cares about your unjustified grudge on your wife, whose innocent daughter you tried to sacrifice to the gods, who hate human sacrifice!”

Meanwhile Odysseus and Telemakhos had arrived at the home of Laertes, Odysseus' father.

“You and the servants go and prepare a boar for our meal”, Odysseus told his son, “I will see, if my father still recognises me.”

Then he went into the garden, where he found his old father tend to the plants.

Laertes looked so miserable and neglected, that Odysseus hid behind a pear tree and wept.

Once he had regained his composure, he approached the old man and addressed him: “Greetings, good man. You certainly are a talented gardener; none of the plants here look anything but splendid. I wish the same could be same for you. Please do not be angry, but you look awful. So, who are you and whose garden is this? Also, could you tell me, if it's really Ithaka I have come to? I have been marooned, so I'm not sure.”

Yes, he was about to weave more false identities.

“I met a man from Ithaka once and he boasted to be Odysseus, the son of Laertes. I hosted him, gave him many guest gifts and then he went on his way.”

Laertes looked up and responded: “This is indeed Ithaka, stranger. But Odysseus isn't here – instead bad and godless men are holding sway over this land. You poor man gave him presents in vain – if he was here and alive, he would gladly repay you in kind, as it's the custom. But he's gone, he'll never return …” He choked and cleared his throat. “But who are you and where do you come from? How much time has passed, since you welcomed Odysseus in your home?”

“My name is Eperitas, I come from Alybas”, the younger man lied, “And he came to my home five years ago. Oh, the poor man! And the omens seemed so promising, when he departed! He was so glad and eager to get home!”

Laertes broke into pitiful wailing, grabbed a fistful of ash and threw it onto his head.

Odysseus' heart broke and he hugged the other. “My dear father, it's me! Cry no longer, I'm not dead! I'm home! I have slain those who wooed my wife and ended their outrage!”

Laertes stared at the other. “What … is it really you?! Give me a sign, before I believe you!”

The younger man pulled up his chiton to reveal the scar on his thigh.

“Do you remember, when I grew to age and you sent me to my grandfather Autolykos and his sons, so that I might receive the gifts he had prepared for me? How I returned to you with the presents and this scar I got when I went hunting with my uncles and was attacked by a boar? And here another sign: when I was a child, you gave me many fruit trees: ten apple trees, thirteen pear trees, forty fig trees and hundred stocks of wine. And you promised me, that they all would carry heavy fruit and bring bountiful harvest. Do you believe me now?”

Laertes cried out in happiness and embraced his son tightly.

Then he fainted.

When he awoke, he found himself in his son's arms and cried some more, before taking a deep breath and calming himself.

“My dear and only son, I'm so happy! The justice of the gods still exists in this world, that you defeated all of the foes in your own home! But what shall we do now? You killed the entire noble population, the people will riot.”

“Don't worry about that yet”, Odysseus told him gently. “First let's go inside. We'll get you fresh clothes and a bath, also lunch will soon be ready.”

Inside the house Telemakhos and the two animal husbandmen were busy cutting the pork and mixing wine.

A maid drew a bath for Laertes and gave him good clothes.

When the former king came before his son and grandson, they marvelled.

“You look so much more gracious now”, Odysseus marked, “A god gave you splendour and made you taller, just like the Bright-eyed Goddess did for me!”

“Certainly”, the old man agreed, “But I wish they would have granted me the even bigger pleasure of being there yesterday to stand by you, when you fought off the suitors! You would have seen, that I still am capable of fighting!”

Odysseus almost chuckled at his father's zeal, but didn't want to seem condescending or doubtful.

When the two former heroes came into the dining halls, the servants ooh'd and aah'd, as they recognised their king.

“You can marvel later”, he told them, “It's time for lunch, as we're all hungry. Do sit with us! There is enough for all!”

Now the staff cheered and they all gave the long-lost ruler a warm welcome.

Unfortunately, while they were having lunch, Ossa, goddess of rumour, flew through the city and soon everyone had heard about the gruesome demise of the suitors.

Their relatives came to the palace to pick up the dead and bury them.

When they had done their work, Eupeithes, the father of Antinoos, rallied the people and riled them up.

“This man truly has done great wrong to us!”, he shouted, “Twenty years ago he took away many ships to Troy, only to return ten years too late and all alone. And now he has slaughtered all our children! Up, that we may avenge this misdeed done to our sons!”

But before the crowd could respond, Phemos the singer and Medon the herald, stepped forward.

“People of Ithaka! Odysseus did not act without the approval of the gods!”, Medon declared, “I myself saw a deity at the king's side and it was none other than the bright-eyed daughter of Zeus! She was wearing the guise of Mentor, but I saw her for who she was. She fought by his side, by instilling fear into the suitors and by giving him courage and strength. He had the favour of the gods and he was in the right. What happened was the will of Zeus.”

His words made the listeners shudder in fear.

Now another man rose to speak, Halitherses the prophet. “Hear me, men of Ithaka! It's because of your cowardice, that you are now burying your children! For you listened to neither me nor to Mentor, when we bid you to stop your sons' outrageous behaviour. You didn't stop them, when they committed blasphemous acts, harassed the wife of the best of men and wasted away his own property, believing he would never come home and make them face the consequences! So listen to my counsel for once in your lives: stay here, before a self-imposed doom meets you all!”

Half of the men screamed in protest at this suggestion, while the others heeded the prophet's words.

The crowd divided into two groups.

Eupeithes lead those who agreed with him into the country – thinking, that he would avenge his son, unaware, that he was on his way to meet his fate.

On Olympos Athena saw what was going on and went to her father to report.

“What is your plan, father?”, she wanted to know, “Will you cause more bloody conflict or shall there be peace?”

Zeus laughed: “My child, hasn't it been your plan all along, that your mortal friend should get home, take revenge on the suitors and reclaim his kingdom? Do as you please, but my will is this: now that Odysseus has avenged himself, let there be peace and companionship. Let the murder of their sons and brothers be forgotten. Let there be harmony among the people, companionship and bountiful harvest, as it was before.”

With gladdened heart Athena descended from Olympos to earth.

In the country estate, one of the servants looked out of the window, only to turn back to Odysseus, frowning.

“My king, I'm afraid we have company.”

He pointed to a nearby hill, where Eupeithes and his allies were already seen.

Quickly everyone leapt up from the table to don their armour and weapons.

As they were arming themselves, Athena joined them, again in the guise of Mentor.

Odysseus understood immediately and said to his son, grinning: “Now, my son, I will show you how it's done. You shall see how your father earned his glory in battle as well as in strategy.”

Telemakhos grinned back at him. “Father, you will see, that I'm not a coward and you won't be ashamed of my bravery in battle.”

“My son and my grandson competing in fighting prowess and bravery!”, Laertes rejoiced, “This is the best day of my life!”

“Mentor” smiled at the former hero and said: “Come, Laertes my old friend. You too should arm yourself and make a prayer to Zeus and the Bright-eyed Virgin.”

Then Athena breathed powerful valour into him.

With renewed strength and vigour, Laertes grabbed a spear and threw it right into the face of Eupeithes, where the helmet wasn't shielding it.

Meanwhile his son and grandson burst into the now leaderless ranks and slew their attackers left and right.

However before they could kill everyone, Athena decided, that playtime was over.

She appeared above the fray, that everyone froze in fear and/or reverence.

“Men of Ithaka!”, she announced with a thundering voice, “Cease the fighting and break apart, ere the earth is stained with your blood!”

After the parties had broken apart, Athena persuaded the quarrellers to make peace.

Thus ends the story of how Odysseus finally came home and regained his kingdom.

The stories of his deeds were passed on orally, from generation to generation.

Several centuries later, a blind poet dictated the glorious epics of the Iliad and the Odyssey to someone and they would be known for many more centuries to come.

Just like the name of the poet, who dictated them: Homer.

---

1) Only certain parts of a sacrificial animal would go to the gods: the fat and bones. The rest would be kept by the mortals. According to myth, Prometheus tricked Zeus into this. 2) Menélaos - just like Agamemnon - was the son of Atreus, who was a real nasty piece of work. So of course Menélaos would view Nestor, a far friendlier person, as more of a father figure. 3) In the Iliad Odysseus is described as not being very tall and looking relatively unimpressive at first glance.

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girls-scenarios · 4 years

Text

A Light in the Dark

Idol: Lee Sem (9Muses)

Prompt: can i please request a scenario with lee sem from 9muses and fem reader where they are in a bird box type au where they can’t see each other but end up falling for each other ? u can make the end angsty if u want 🥺 thank u in advance !

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I always love when I get to write for groups I don’t usually get to write for, and this is a super interesting prompt on top of that! I doubt it’ll get many notes because people tend to skip idols they don’t know, but I worked really hard on it and I hope those of you who read enjoy!😊 P.S I’m using her real name Hyunjoo for this!

Warnings: This is a Bird Box au, so obviously there’s going to be mentions of death and suicide. I tried not to write anything too graphic, but it’s an integral part of the story so it’s there.

♡ Tip Jar♡

Time passed differently when the whole world was dark and dead. Hyunjoo wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been since she put that black blindfold on, locking herself into a endless sea of darkness, but it had been long enough that she’d all but forgotten how light or the blue sky looked. All she knew was black cotton. But maybe that was a good thing. Nothing in the world was worth looking at anymore. She didn’t have to see the corpses littering the streets or the bloody scabs on her throbbing feet from miles upon miles of endless walking. It was hard enough to feel those things: not seeing saved her from the pain of reality, just a little bit. It kept her safe in more ways than one.

Plus, she had her own light.

It wasn’t long after she joined up with a group of survivors that they found you. Had it not been for Sehun’s dog Vivi, they might have missed you completely. You were cowering in the corner of a local grocery store in a recently-afflicted town, shaking with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, not making a sound until Vivi ran to your side and began to bark.

At the loud sound, you’d started to cry, body weakly slumping against one of the shelves. Sera, the leader of the group, slowly made her way over as Sehun picked Vivi up, listening closely. Your sobs were much louder than the crunch of glass under their feet.

“Is that... a person?” Sera asked softly, her hand brushing against the shelves. “If you’re there.... You can talk to us. I know it’s been scary. But we can help.”

You cried a moment longer, and the sound broke Hyunjoo’s heart as she crept up behind Sera. She’d gotten used to being blind by now, and could tell about how far away you were from the sound of your cries, although she could not see you. “What’s your name?” She asked gently, not wanting to startle you any more.

“I-I’m (Y/N),” you said finally, your voice hoarse. Hyunjoo guessed that you’d probably been hiding in the store for days without food or water, too afraid to move your hands away from your eyes. “How did you all get away? F-from that thing?”

“Luck,” Sera said bluntly. “We managed to cover our eyes in time and find each other. Are you covering your eyes?”

“Yes. But I can’t do anything or I’ll have to bring my hands away from my eyes.”

“I have an extra blindfold,” offered Seolhyun, another member of the group, shuffling through her bag. “Just give me a second to get over there and find you.” She was new to not seeing the world, and immediately tripped as she got close to the corner, barely catching herself on another shelf.

“I’ll take it,” Hyunjoo offered, finding her easy enough with her stick. Seolhyun quickly handed it over. The trick to seeing with your senses, Hyunjoo had learned, was concentration. She moved forward slowly, her hand running along the shelf she knew you were sitting by until your breathing became loud. Then she crouched down and moved her hand in front of her until it hit your shoulder, causing you to jump. “It’s just me,” she said, palming the blindfold and running her hand up your neck to your face. “Bring your hands down but keep your eyes closed, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, and obeyed. After finding your eyes, she quickly tied the blindfold tight around your head.

“Does that feel right?” She asked, moving back. She could hear fabric moving in front of her, and figured that it must be you fixing the cloth.

“Yeah. Now it does. Can I open my eyes?”

“Yeah.”

You inhaled a deep breath as Hyunjoo stood up, listening closely. Then you let out a sigh, broken by a half-sob. “It’s just darkness. It’s awful.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she said, and reached down to grab your hand. “I’ll help you up. How long is it since you had water or food?”

Your grasp was weak, and it worried her as she helped you to your unsteady feet. “I-I don’t know. I had a soda that I was drinking with my eyes closed, but it ran out and I was too scared too move. I had a granola bar, too, after it first happened.”

“How long ago did it happen?” Sera asked. Hyunjoo knew why she was asking: they were trying to outrace the monsters to figure out a pattern. There never seemed to be any pattern or any sliver of hope, but they tried.

“I think three or four days ago? I’m not sure.... I think I passed out at some point, honestly.” You shuddered in Hyunjoo’s arms and she bit her lip, worried. You were cold and weak. You wouldn’t survive long like this.

“We’ll get some food and water in you. That’s why we’re here anyway. Once we have all the supplies we can find, we’ll move on.” She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of you walking such long distances in the state you were in, but they had no choice but to move on. Staying in one space for too long was dangerous. Especially a place already attacked. “Do you know if anyone else is alive?”

Immediately, you began to cry again, leaning into Hyunjoo’s shoulder. She held you a bit tighter as the sobs wrecked your body, her heart hurting. The room stayed silent as you cried: they all knew the pain you were feeling. “J-just me,” you finally managed to get out, hiccuping and sucking in breath. “M-my family, they all....”

Hyunjoo was so glad that you couldn’t see. Just from moving through the store, she knew the damage. Her stomach twisted as she rubbed your back, trying to comfort you even though she knew nothing she could do would really help. “You don’t have to say it,” she assured you. “Come on, let’s get something for you to eat.” She helped you out of your hiding spot, guiding you the best she could while being blind herself. No matter how many times your legs gave out or you tripped, she held you up, and made a promise to herself.

She was going to take care of you, no matter what. She wanted you to live.

It was a while before you learned how to walk blind. For the first few weeks, Hyunjoo helped you walk, supporting most of your weight with your arm around her shoulders. You stumbled often, both from weakness and from not being able to see. Hyunjoo tried her best to warn you of anything in front of you, swinging her stick an extra length in your path, but you usually ended up tripping anyway. When the group was resting, you got around by crawling on your hands and knees. But you didn’t leave her side very often.

She shared everything with you: her food, her water, her blanket, and even her jacket, wrapping her arms around you as the temperatures dropped until they were able to salvage more coats. She often slept by your side, waiting until you drifted off despite the threat to her life. She’d given you her earplugs, leaving herself open to hear the voices that often came with nightfall. The voices were nothing new to her, though, and she’d learned to block them out. You had needed them more.

One night, she awoke to your voice. At first, she thought it was the creature, and stayed silent, not moving. But then you softly called her name again, and tugged at her sleeve. “Hyunjoo?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“I’m cold. And scared.” The group had camped up against the mouth of a cave for the night. It was shelter from the nightly rains, but the ground was still cold, and your clothes were still wet from the previous day. It was a miserable night. Shivering, Hyunjoo rolled over and wrapped her arms around you, holding you tight.

“I know,” she said, whispering so that she wouldn’t wake the others or attract attention. “I’m right here.”

You snuggled into her, burying your face into her shoulder. It had become almost a habit for you, ever since you’d left the store in her arms. “Do you think it’ll warm up soon?”

“I hope so. But I don’t know. We’re heading south so we should be hitting a warmer climate soon.”

“I hope so.” You paused for a moment and your breathing evened. For a moment, she thought you might have fallen asleep. Then you shifted in her arms. “Why are you so nice to me?”

The question struck her in the heart. Your voice was broken, raspy from your new cold, and she held you closer, willing the chill to go away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t know me. Not really. We’ve never even seen each other.”

“You don’t have to see someone to know them, (Y/N).” She ran her fingers through your hair slowly. “But I guess to answer your question, I’m nice to you because I care about you. I’ve been drawn to you ever since I met you in that store.”

“Is it because you pity me?”

“Maybe back then. But it’s also because I see myself in you.”

You paused. “You do?”

“Yep. I also lost everything and everyone I loved. I sat in my house for days on end with my eyes covered, shaking and lost, until I had to leave for my own survival. I had to learn how to survive even though it was hard. When I saw you there, I understood what you were going through. I wanted to help you, because I wanted to make things a litter easier for you. The more I get to know you, though, the more I like you. You’re a good person, (Y/N). I think you’re the first person to make me smile in a long time.”

“Oh.” You were silent for another long moment. “I like you too, Hyunjoo. Thank you. For everything.” You snuggled in closer, getting comfortable, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

You helped her a lot more than you knew. You gave her a purpose again.

Eventually, you got used to living on the run. You still cried often, curling into Hyunjoo’s side, but you tripped less and learned how to navigate this new world. Still, the moment they found a safe house, Hyunjoo was relieved.

Abandoned houses were nothing new. Almost every house was now abandoned or boarded up with no hope of anyone allowing anyone else inside. She didn’t blame those people: she’d heard about the followers of the creature too. This house, though.... It was different. It had been abandoned long before the creature, but most importantly, Vivi liked it.

Typically, the growing would start as soon as a door was opened, signalling that the place was unsafe. But with this house, Vivi did not growl. She didn’t even bark. Instead, as the group slowly explored with their hands, she wagged her tail, hitting Sehun’s leg.

“There’s no creatures here,” he said, confident, sitting down against one of the walls and petting Vivi’s head. “Just us.”

“How can we be so sure?” Sera’s voice rang through the large empty space.

“Because Vivi is never wrong. She knows what she sees. And she doesn’t see anything but the people she trusts here.”

The group shuffled towards Sehun, gathering together. With a sigh, Sera ran her thin fingers through her hair. “We do need somewhere to stay. But I’m not very keen on the idea of taking our blindfolds off.”

“Why?” You asked, and Hyunjoo flinched. She knew what was coming.

“Because you never know when that thing will get in.” Sera’s tone of voice changed, bitterness seeping through with every word. “Or who might get in with that thing behind them. I trusted a place enough to take off my blindfold once, only to watch my entire group be murdered by a maniac who had pretended to be one of us. He forced their eyes open and laughed at our panic. Some of us escaped, but we were forced to leave our blindfolds behind.” Her voice lowered. “I was the only one who made it. I got to cradle the dead body of my girlfriend in my arms after she accidentally opened her eyes, then used her own weapon to kill herself. That’s why I don’t like the idea of taking our blindfolds off.”

The room was silent, and Hyunjoo put her arm around you for support. She could feel you shaking.

“S-sorry,” you said, your head hanging. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.” Sera placed her bag on the ground with a loud “thud” and sighed once more. “I will say that I trust Vivi, though. I think we can stay here for a while. At least until the cold front ends. But no taking your blindfolds off. Is that clear?”

A chorus of yes’s answered her question. Minho, a large military man who had been the one to find Sera, cleared his throat. “We should find something to board the windows up with. The back windows are already boarded but it looks like the boards from the front windows fell away. I think I found some wood over in the corner where the kitchen is. The water still works, surprisingly, so we have a source of water now.”

“And there’s a fireplace,” Seolhyun added. “I tripped over it.”

“Great. Let’s get to work making this place warm and livable. Don’t get too comfortable, though. We could have to move at any moment.”

Hyunjoo had forgotten how nice it felt to be warm. Her new cough rattled her body, but sitting by the fire helped ward off the feeling of death in her lugs, so she stayed as close as she could without getting set on fire. You often joined her there, even as your own cold got better with the heat and drinking water, cuddling with her and helping her keep dry and hydrated. After all the time she spent looking after you, you were now looking after her.

“I wish we had medicine,” you said once, shaking your head as you leaned against her. “But we can’t read the labels, so we don’t know what they are.”

“You’re right. This has really made me realize how little the world cares about blindness. Almost everything requires sight.”

It was rare that the two of you were left alone. But one day, She awoke in front of the fire to you combing her hair, her head on your lap, and no other sounds in the house.

“Where did everyone go,” she asked with a rasp, listening closely for any sign of life. There was no one, other than you.

“They said not to wake you, but a lot of them went out to try and find supplies. They took Vivi with them. I think Seolhyun is still sleeping in the kitchen.”

“Oh. So it’s pretty much just us?”

“Yep.”

She laid there for a while, half asleep, letting you comb through her hair, before turning over to wrap her arm around your torso, nuzzling her nose into your stomach. You were warm now, cold gone, and she appreciated the quiet intimacy, happy to lay there forever and fight with the occasional cough as you took care of her.

“Hyunjoo?” Your voice was soft and affectionate, and she loved the sound of it.

“Hm?”

“I like you.”

She smiled a bit. “I would hope so.”

“No, not like that. Well, like that too, but also... I think I’m in love with you.”

Back in her normal life, a confession like that would have rocked her. But now, it just seemed right. As soon as you said it, she knew it was true, and she knew that the feelings she’d had for you had been love for a while now. Smiling widely, she reached up to touch your cheek, proud when you leaned into her touch instead of flinching away.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

“Really?” She felt your cheek move under her hand, signalling that you were smiling. It made her heart swell with affection in her chest.

“Really.” She sat up slowly, ignoring the pain in her lungs, and positioned herself in front of you. Her other hand now came up to roam your face, taking in your features with her sensitive fingers. She ran them over your nose, over your cheekbones and your jaw, over your ears and your forehead, and pressed them against your blindfold, running her thumbs along the outline of your eyes. “I think your incredible,” she said, making you laugh.

“Was that your way of seeing me?” You sounded a little breathless, your face now much closer to hers.

“Yes. Why don’t you try?”

At her suggestion, you brought your hands up, tentatively touching her face and exploring her features. You moved slow, taking every part of her in and stopping over the scar on her cheek, touch even more gentle as you ran your finger over it. “What’s this from?”

“I fell,” she said, smiling at the memory. It hadn’t been funny then, but it was amusing looking back. She’d come so far since she first started out. “I was just as clumsy as you when I first escaped too.”

“Somehow I can’t imagine that.” You pressed your forehead against hers. “You’re just so perfect.”

“I’m not, but thank you.” She could feel your breath on her lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You let out a giggle, your hands landing on her shoulders as you pulled her in. “Please do.”

It felt good to kiss someone. To feel intimate with someone again. Her body had so craved that human interaction, and your lips brought light back into her life. More even than you had on your own. She kissed you until her lungs burned and her lips tingled and she had to pull away to cough, making you laugh.

“Lay down,” you said, lowering her back down into your lap. “You need to sleep.”

When she woke up again, it was to the sound of the group coming back into the house, and to the warmth of you laid down beside her, your head in her crook of her shoulder.

In the dead of the night months later, Hyunjoo awoke with a jolt. She lay still, controlling her breathing as she listened. What had woken her up? Everyone in the group was there. She could hear them breathing, some snoring, and you were by her side as you always were. Nothing had changed since she went to sleep. So what was it? Had it been some sound? An animal, maybe?

Somewhere near the door, Vivi shifted. She heard her nails scraping on the wood floor as something woke the dog. So she wasn’t alone. Something was happening.

Vivi had hardly gotten in a bark when something slammed into the door hard enough to splinter the hinges. Hyunjoo sat up, bringing you up with her as everyone else came awake as well, shuffling in their blankets and grabbing for their weapons. Vivi barked and growled and the door shuddered under some weight one again. Sera let out a gasp as Hyunjoo got to her feet, helping you up as well.

“That’s a human, we have to get out of here, we can’t-.”

The door splintered and broke open with a sickening crack, making you scream as both of you stumbled backwards. Laughter came from outside the door and Hyunjoo’s heart sank. That wasn’t the sound of one person. That was a group.

“We found you!” Said a man’s booming voice, and a woman laughed behind him.

“Don’t be scared! We’re only here to help you see!”

“Run!” At Sera’s words, the group scattered. Hyunjoo couldn’t see, but she knew where she’d been sleeping, and she knew how to get to the back door. With her own knife in hand, she grabbed you and pulled you away, running towards the door. Behind her, Seolhyun screamed and then the man screamed. Vivi let out a wail as she was kicked into the wall, and Sehun cursed. Hyunjoo didn’t look back.

She found the door just as it was flung open by someone outside.

“Hello. We have another door!” A woman, a different woman, said in a sing-song voice. Hyunjoo stepped back, moving you behind her as she tried to listen. The screams and chaos behind her make her stomach sick, but she had to listen in order to escape. Three people she did not know where now in the house, leaving one in front of her. With the door open, she could hear the sounds from outside, and yet she heard to footsteps. There was only one woman at this door.

“Hyunjoo,” you said, voice shaking, but Hyunjoo stood firm. The woman’s hands grabbed her shoulders and she pulled out the knife, stabbing forward with all her strength.

Her blade made impact and the woman gurgled, stumbling back. With a jerk, Hyunjoo withdrew her blade and shoved the woman to the side, pulling you out the door with her. The two of you ran a couple paced before she stopped and turned around, listening. The struggle inside had gotten worse, and she couldn’t hear anyone else outside. Usually she trusted her friends to fend for themselves, but panic boiled up in her throat and she gripped her knife.

“I need to go back in there and help.” Her heart was pounding, her entire body racing with adrenaline as she stepped forward, but you grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“You can’t go back in there, you might die!”

“But everyone else, I don’t think they’ll-!”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. A blast of unbearable hot air shoved the two of you forward, sending you tumbling into the dead grass and dirt. The boom came seconds later, rocking the earth underneath your hands and feet. Then it was silent.

For a moment, she lay still in shock, trying to process what had happened. Nothing moved. Nothing made noise. The only sound was your hitched breathing, the crackle of a fire, and the pounding of her heart in her ears. Tears pricked at her eyes as she slowly pushed herself up from the ground, reality crashing down around her.

“T-they-.” She cut herself off, turning over so that she was facing the house. She still couldn’t see, but she could feel the heat of a huge fire dancing across her skin. “They’re all dead.” The tears began to stream down her face now as she sat in the dirt, the back of her neck burned and blood on her hands. The only family that she’d known for so long... gone. Everything was over in the matter of minutes. A sob wrecked her sore lungs and shook her entire body. Her friends. The people who had fought for so long to survive. It had all been for nothing.

“Oh, Hyunjoo.” You wrapped your arms around her as she sobbed, leaning her body forward into yours. The fire was so warm, yet she felt so cold. The world felt empty. You were crying too, your body shivering against hers and your tears dripping down onto her shoulders. As much as she wanted to hold you, she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t move as she sobbed more than she had in what felt like an eternity, letting out everything that she’d bottled up for so long.

“I-I could have saved them,” she sobbed, still clutching at the knife that now seemed useless. “I could have woken them up sooner, I could have fought back, I could-.”

“Hyunjoo!” You interrupted her, clearing your throat and holding back your tears for the moment. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I woke up before everyone else, I should have warned them then. Or I should have stayed behind to help them fight.”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeated. “You couldn’t have known. And had you stayed behind, we both would be dead right now. You saved our lives.”

“But I couldn’t save them.”

“You can’t save everyone, Hyunjoo.... Not in this world.”

She shuddered, leaning her entire weight into you and letting you support her. “I hate this world,” she whispered, heartbroken. For a moment, you were silent, but then you brought your hand up to run in through her hair, soothing the pain with your gentle hand.

“So do I,” you admitted, whispering in return. “But I don’t hate that I’m here with you.” You took a deep breath. “We need to start walking. This place isn’t safe anymore.”

“But what’s the point?” For the first time in her life, she didn’t have the energy. She wanted to lay down and give up. To succumb to the heat of the fire that had taken away those so precious to her. Her life was over. But you shook her by the shoulders, pulling away ever so slightly and jolting her back to reality. Shocked, she tilted her head up as you spoke.

“No, don’t say that! There’s a point to living! There’s always a point! Hyunjoo, I love you. I want to live on with you. When I wanted to give up, you came in and gave me a reason to live. You supported me through my worst times. You helped me become strong. You gave me a will to keep fighting even though I had lost everything.” Your voice wavered and you stopped to contain yourself before continuing. “You helped me, so now I’ll help you. I’ll support you. I’ll help you move forward when you’re too tired or hurt to continue. I’ll carry you if I have to. But please. My love. Keep living.”

Another tear ran down her face as she sat up. For a moment, she imagined that she could see your face. That she could see her light, with your smile she loved to run her fingers over. What did you look like now? Was there determination shining in your eyes? She took a deep breath and it rattled her lungs. She was sick, her gear had just been destroyed, and almost everyone she cared about was gone. You were still there, holding her up in her weakest moment, but she was scared.

“What if we just die, and it’s all for nothing?”

You paused for a long moment, just holding her, before standing to your feet and helping her up as well. When she was standing, you took her arm and cupped her cheek with your hand. Somehow, the fire had started to die down, and somewhere, the sun was rising.

“Well, if we die, then we die. I guess that’s fate and we can’t run from it forever. But if there is a way to live in this world, it’ll be worth living. I want to grow old with you, and I’m willing to fight for the chance to do that.”

#femifics #9muses #lee sem #leesem #9muses scenarios #lee sem scenarios #leesem scenarios #girl group scenarios #kpop scenario

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kkintle · 3 years

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Map: Collected and Last Poems by Wisława Szymborska; Quotes

Dreams flickered on white canvas.

The future—who can guess it. The past—who’s got it right.

Trite Rhymes A great joy: flower upon flower, the branches stretch in pristine blue, but there’s a greater: today’s Tuesday, tomorrow will bring mail from you, and still greater: the letter trembles, strange reading it in spots of sun, and still greater: just a week now, now just four days, now it’s begun, and still greater: I kneel on top and make the suitcase lid shut tight, and still greater: the train at seven, just one ticket, thanks, that’s right, and still greater: rushing windows, with view on view on view on view, and still greater: dark and darker, by nighttime I will be with you, and still greater: the door opens, and still greater: past the door, and still greater: flower on flower. —Ohhh, who are all these roses for?

Do you open each human fate like a book, seeking feelings not in fonts or formats? Are you sure you decipher people completely?

Are people really so simple as far as people go?

Lovers In this quiet we can still hear what they were singing yesterday about the high road and the low road . . . We hear—but we don’t believe it. Our smile doesn’t mask our sorrow, and goodness needs no sacrifice. The pity we give to nonlovers is even more than they deserve. We’re so astonished at ourselves, what’s left to astonish us? Not a rainbow in the night. Not a butterfly in snow. And when we sleep we dream of parting. But it’s a good dream, it’s a good dream, since we wake up from it.

Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue mentions your name by accident: I feel as if a rose were flung into the room, all hue and scent.

Why do we treat the fleeting day with so much needless fear and sorrow? It’s in its nature not to stay: today is always gone tomorrow. With smiles and kisses, we prefer to seek accord beneath our star, although we’re different (we concur) just as two drops of water are.

If we haven’t had enough of despair, grief, all that stuff, lofty words will kill us off. Then we’ll stand up, take our bows: hope that you’ve enjoyed our show. Every patron with his spouse will applaud, get up, and go. They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite.

I TEACH silence in all languages

FOR PROMISES made by my spouse, who’s tricked so many with his sweet colors and fragrances and sounds— dogs barking, guitars in the street— into believing that they still might conquer loneliness and fright, I cannot be responsible. Mr. Day’s widow, Mrs. Night.

We know ourselves only as far as we’ve been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart

An Effort Alack and woe, oh song: you’re mocking me; try as I may, I’ll never be your red, red rose. A rose is a rose is a rose. And you know it. I worked to sprout leaves. I tried to take root. I held my breath to speed things up, and waited for the petals to enclose me. Merciless song, you leave me with my lone, nonconvertible, unmetamorphic body: I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Leave me, leave, but not by land. Swim off, swim, but not by sea. Fly off, fly away, my dear, but don’t go near the air. Let’s see each other through closed eyes. Let’s talk together through closed mouths. Let’s hold each other through a thick wall.

Since eternity was out of stock, ten thousand aging things have been amassed instead.

Everything’s mine but just on loan, nothing for the memory to hold, though mine as long as I look.

One day the answer came before the question. Another night they guessed their eyes’ expression by the type of silence in the dark. Gender fades, mysteries molder, distinctions meet in all-resemblance just as all colors coincide in white.

Sunny. Green. A forest close at hand, with wood to chew on, drops beneath the bark to drink— a view served round the clock, until you go blind.

Parable Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece of paper, with these words: “Somebody save me! I’m here. The ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore waiting for help. Hurry! I’m here!” “There’s no date. I bet it’s already too late anyway. It could have been floating for years,” the first fisherman said. “And he doesn’t say where. It’s not even clear which ocean,” the second fisherman said. “It’s not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,” the third fisherman said. They all felt awkward. No one spoke. That’s how it goes with universal truths

Ballad Hear the ballad “Murdered Woman Suddenly Gets Up from Chair.” It’s an honest ballad, penned neither to shock nor to offend. The thing happened fair and square, with curtains open, lamps all lit: passersby could stop and stare. When the door had shut behind him and the killer ran downstairs, she stood up, just like the living startled by the sudden silence. She gets up, she moves her head, and she looks around with eyes harder than they were before. No, she doesn’t float through air: she steps on the ordinary, wooden, slightly creaky floor. In the oven she burns traces that the killer’s left behind: here a picture, there shoelaces, everything that she can find. It’s obvious that she’s not strangled. It’s obvious that she’s not shot. She’s been killed invisibly. She may still show signs of life, cry for sundry silly reasons, shriek in horror at the sight of a mouse. Ridiculous traits are so predictable that they aren’t hard to fake. She got up like you and me. She walks just as people do. And she sings and combs her hair, which still grows.

I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings.

Exiled by style. Only their ribs stood out. With birdlike feet and palms, they strove to take wing on their jutting shoulder blades. The thirteenth century would have given them golden halos. The twentieth, silver screens. The seventeenth, alas, holds nothing for the unvoluptuous. For even the sky bulges here with pudgy angels and a chubby god— thick-whiskered Phoebus, on a sweaty steed, riding straight into the seething bedchamber

He grew rozes with a “z.

(...) the rest of your life? Old age is a precipice, (...)

I am too close for him to dream of me.

Silence—this word also rustles across the page and parts the boughs that have sprouted from the word “woods.”

Funny little thing How could she know that even despair can work for you if you’re lucky enough to outlive it.

The Railroad Station My nonarrival in the city of N. took place on the dot. You’d been alerted in my unmailed letter. You were able not to be there at the agreed-upon time. The train pulled up at Platform 3. A lot of people got out. My absence joined the throng as it made its way toward the exit. Several women rushed to take my place in all that rush. Somebody ran up to one of them. I didn’t know him, but she recognized him immediately. While they kissed with not our lips, a suitcase disappeared, not mine. The railroad station in the city of N. passed its exam in objective existence with flying colors. The whole remained in place. Particulars scurried along the designated tracks. Even a rendezvous took place as planned. Beyond the reach of our presence. In the paradise lost of probability. Somewhere else. Somewhere else. How these little words ring. Alive These days we just hold him

But this is ancient history. I can’t dwell on it forever or keep asking endlessly, what’s next, what’s next. Day to day I trust in permanence, in history’s prospects. I can’t gnaw apples in a constant state of terror.

Arduous ease, watchful agility, and calculated inspiration.

Old Folks’ Home Here comes Her Highness—well, you know who I mean, our Helen the snooty—now who made her queen! With her lipstick and wig on, as if we could care, like her three sons in heaven can see her from there! “I wouldn’t be here if they’d lived through the war. I’d spend winter with one son, summer with another.” What makes her so sure? I’d be dead too now, with her for a mother. And she keeps on asking (“I don’t mean to pry”) why from your sons and daughters there’s never a word even though they weren’t killed. “If my boys were alive, I’d spend all my holidays home with the third.” Right, and in his gold carriage he’d come and get her, drawn by a swan or a lily-white dove, to show all of us that he’ll never forget her and how much he owes to her motherly love. Even Jane herself, the nurse, can’t help but grin when our Helen starts singing this old song again— even though Jane’s job is commiseration Monday through Friday, with two weeks’ vacation.

Sell me your soul. There are no other takers. There is no other devil anymore.

I’m bound to pass by all these poppies and pansies. What a loss when you think how much effort was spent perfecting this petal, this pistil, this scent for the one-time appearance, which is all they’re allowed, so aloofly precise and so fragilely proud.

The abyss doesn’t divide us. The abyss surrounds us.

In Praise of Dreams In my dreams I paint like Vermeer van Delft. I speak fluent Greek and not just with the living. I drive a car that does what I want it to. I am gifted and write mighty epics. I hear voices as clearly as any venerable saint. My brilliance as a pianist would stun you. I fly the way we ought to, i.e., on my own. Falling from the roof, I tumble gently to the grass. I’ve got no problem breathing under water. I can’t complain: I’ve been able to locate Atlantis. It’s gratifying that I can always wake up before dying. As soon as war breaks out, I roll over on my other side. I’m a child of my age, but I don’t have to be. A few years ago I saw two suns. And the night before last a penguin, clear as day.

True love. Is it normal, is it serious, is it practical? What does the world get from two people who exist in a world of their own?

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

And it so happened that I’m here with you. And I really see nothing usual in that.

Under One Small Star My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all. Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five A.M. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please don’t pay me much attention. Dignity, please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train. Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man. I know I won’t be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.

Non omnis moriar—a premature worry.

Thank-You Note I owe so much to those I don’t love. The relief as I agree that someone else needs them more. The happiness that I’m not the wolf to their sheep. The peace I feel with them, the freedom— love can neither give nor take that. I don’t wait for them, as in window-to-door-and-back. Almost as patient as a sundial, I understand what love can’t, and forgive as love never would. From a rendezvous to a letter is just a few days or weeks, not an eternity. Trips with them always go smoothly, concerts are heard, cathedrals visited, scenery is seen. And when seven hills and rivers come between us, the hills and rivers can be found on any map. They deserve the credit if I live in three dimensions, in nonlyrical and nonrhetorical space with a genuine, shifting horizon. They themselves don’t realize how much they hold in their empty hands. “I don’t owe them a thing” would be love’s answer to this open question.

Dentistry turned to diplomatic skill promises us a Golden Age tomorrow. The going’s rough, and so we need the laugh of bright incisors, molars of goodwill. Our times are still not safe and sane enough for faces to show ordinary sorrow.

Our solitary existence exacerbates our sense of obligation, and raises the inevitable question, How are we to live et cetera? since “we can’t avoid the void.

No way out? But what about the door? No prospects? The window had other views.

You think at least the note must tell us something. But what if I say there was no note— and he had so many friends, but all of us fit neatly inside the empty envelope propped up against a cup.

(...) to linger longer, not to go home again. Since only prisoners want to go home.

In Praise of Feeling Bad about Yourself The buzzard never says it is to blame. The panther wouldn’t know what scruples mean. When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame. If snakes had hands, they’d claim their hands were clean. A jackal doesn’t understand remorse. Lions and lice don’t waver in their course. Why should they, when they know they’re right? Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton, in every other way they’re light. On this third planet of the sun among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one.

I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine, I can’t exchange it. I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about

The star is large and distant, so distant that it’s small, even smaller than others much smaller than it.

Small wonder, then, if we were struck with wonder; as we would be if only we had the time.

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.

“How should we live?” someone asked me in a letter. I had meant to ask him the same question. Again, and as ever, as may be seen above, the most pressing questions are naïve ones.

Whatever you say reverberates, whatever you don’t say speaks for itself. So either way you’re talking politics.

Who knows you matters more than whom you know. Trips only if taken abroad. Memberships in what but without why. Honors, but not how they were earned. (...) Price, not worth, and title, not what’s inside. His shoe size, not where he’s off to, that one you pass off as yourself.

Nothing’s sacred for those who think. Calling things brazenly by name, risqué analyses, salacious syntheses, frenzied, rakish chases after the bare facts, the filthy fingering of touchy subjects, discussion in heat—it’s music to their ears.

During these trysts of theirs, the only thing that’s steamy is the tea.

May delivery be easy, may our child grow and be well. Let him be happy from time to time and leap over abysses. Let his heart have strength to endure and his mind be awake and reach far. But not so far that it sees into the future. Spare him that one gift, O heavenly powers.

For the sake of the children that we still are, fairy tales have happy endings. That’s the only finale that will do here, too. The rain will stop, the waves will subside, the clouds will part in the cleared-up sky, and they’ll be once more what clouds overhead ought to be: lofty and rather lighthearted in their likeness to things drying in the sun— isles of bliss, lambs, cauliflowers, diapers.

I prefer, where love’s concerned, nonspecific anniversaries that can be celebrated every day.

A miracle, just take a look around: the inescapable earth. An extra miracle, extra and ordinary: the unthinkable can be thought.

When I see such things, I’m no longer sure that what’s important is more important than what’s not.

Hatred is a master of contrast— between explosions and dead quiet, red blood and white snow.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields, those we remember and those that are forgotten: (...)

Without us dreams couldn’t exist. The one on whom the real world depends is still unknown, and the products of his insomnia are available to anyone who wakes up.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

We agreed to death, but not to every kind. Love attracted us, of course, but only love that keeps its word.

We were besieged by doubts. Does knowing everything beforehand really mean knowing everything. Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

They aren’t obliged to vanish when we’re gone. They don’t have to be seen while sailing on.

The Three Oddest Words When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it. When I pronounce the word Nothing, I make something no nonbeing can hold.

But how to answer unasked questions, while being furthermore a being so totally a nobody to you.

Talking with you is essential and impossible. Urgent in this hurried life and postponed to never.

Understanding came only later: not all misadventures fit within the world’s laws and even if they wanted to, they couldn’t happen.

And what can you say about one day of life, a minute, a second: darkness, a lightbulb’s flash, then dark again? KOSMOS MAKROS CHRONOS PARADOKSOS Only stony Greek has words for that.

There must be an exit somewhere, that’s more than certain. But you don’t look for it, it looks for you, it’s been stalking you from the start, and this labyrinth is none other than than your, for the duration, your, until not your, flight, flight— (...)

Life on Earth is quite a bargain. Dreams, for one, don’t charge admission. Illusions are costly only when lost. The body has its own installment plan. And as an extra, added feature, you spin on the planets’ carousel for free, and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard, with times so dizzying that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

At times I get fed up with her. I suggest a separation. From now to eternity. Then she smiles at me with pity, since she knows it would be the end of me too.

Assassins They think for days on end, how to kill so as to kill, and how many killed will be many. Apart from this they eat their meals with gusto, pray, wash their feet, feed the birds, make phone calls while scratching their armpits, stanch blood when they cut a finger, if they’re women they buy sanitary napkins, eye shadow, flowers for vases, they make jokes on their good days, drink citrus juice from the fridge, watch the moon and stars at night, place headphones with soft music on their ears and sleep sweetly till the crack of dawn —unless what they’re thinking needs doing at night.

It’s good you came. Sit here beside me. He really was supposed to get back Thursday. But we’ve got so many Thursdays left this year.

Page after page at a snail’s pace. But we’re still going in fifth gear and, knock on wood, never better.

We eat another life so as to live. A corpse of pork with departed cabbage. Every menu is an obituary. Even the kindest of souls must consume, digest something killed so that their warm hearts won’t stop beating.

In the end I stopped knowing what I’d been looking for so long. I woke up. Looked at my watch. The dream took not quite two and a half minutes. Such are the tricks to which time resorts ever since it started stumbling on sleeping heads.

#poems #poetry #Wislawa Szymborska #literature #quotes

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