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freebooter4ever · 5 years

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Sledgefu Pirate Au pt 5?

In which Eugene saves Snafu (again) and they lead the Governor’s troops on a chase, get tossed in jail, and end up at the OMM ball. This got RIDICULOUSLY long, and a bit goofy, I’m so sorry. @persipneiwrites I hope this still fits within your awesome AU and I didn’t go too totally off the rails ^_^ at some point we need to put this on ao3 as like a collab, my friend.

(Eugene has just visited Snafu in jail the night before he’s sentenced to hang as a pirate. He gave Snafu his ring to prove he will come save him, which I turned into a family ring rather than a USMC ring since I don’t know if the marines existed in the 1700′s? Also, Snafu wears a costume inspired by the Order Of Osiris which was Mobile’s first united Mystic Society for all LGBQT. Technically it wasn’t formed till the 1980s but I couldn’t resist. And that’s pretty much the extent of the research I did for this crack fic. Also I completely got their ages mixed up/the timeline of when Merriell joined the service, it’s hard to find info on the real background of Merriell and Eugene, but this way these characters are totally divided from the living heroes. Just fiction here! I gave Merriell a bit of my grandpa’s backstory cause the real history of his parents and sister is just too heartbreaking, I don’t know how to write that)

As Snafu stands on the raised platform, waiting to die, he reflects on his life. There isn't much enthusiasm in the act. None of his lofty dreams came to fruition. And he honestly never expected them to. This short drop and sudden stop, a brutal end to a mostly exhausting life, is exactly what he had anticipated.

One thing is unusual however. In the past, whenever he imagined the day of his death, of all the possible scenarios, a marching band never featured into any of them.

He always assumed he'd go out fighting in a blaze of guts and glory, not with instruments ringing in his ears.

The steady beat of drums does lend a sort of importance to the day. It gives Snafu something to focus on, other than the fact that his hands are tied, his stomach is empty, and his brain wants to be anywhere but here.

Eugene Sledge clearly doesn't want to be here either.

The man is conspicuously absent. Snafu twists his ring around his finger, spiraling it tighter and tighter in towards his palm. The sharp sting takes away the ache in his chest. He feels Sledge's absence like a physical blow.

Snafu knows he shouldn't have Gene's ring on. One mistaken flap of his hand and the Governor might recognize his own signet on a condemned man's finger. Not that the hell Snafu is currently in could get any worse, but if the ring is recognized then Sledge might be in for hell too.

Yet he can't bring himself to take the ring off.

He did turn the damn thing around so the large jeweled seal is pressing into the palm of Snafu's clenched fist. To any casual observer the ring looks like a plain gold band. No one will know. Snafu will see to that.

Still protecting the damn idiot boy who throws himself into danger just because it's the right thing to do.

Snafu, on the other hand, usually picks the wrong thing to do. As the executioner so calmly points out while he reads aloud Snafu's list of crimes for the crowd to judge.

Snafu never imagined being important in death. He lived his life with little fanfare, and thought he'd go out the same - as some unknown seaman with scurvy or battle wounds or water in his lungs.

But the list of his deeds makes it sound like he's had an impact on this world. The loud boom of the drums corroborate this weighty importance. The crowd gathering beneath his feet is there not to see a pirate, but to see him specifically. To witness the final end of Captain Snafu, who got caught up in circumstances bigger than his own life and paid the final price for it.

As his final moment draws closer, Eugene's empty place on the dias next to his father remains blindingly stark. At the beginning of the executioner's long speech, Snafu still had hope. Now, he can't even glance over at the governor and his cronies. He knows Sledge isn't there. And he doesn't want to see it.

Instead he looks to the sky. The hour is a little before dawn, so a few pinpricks of stars are still visible. There's a line of them, marching upwards, away from the stage, that he'd like to follow.

If he had to be famous, he'd rather it be for having a constellation named after him, than for his bones and hat, and a sign with his name on it, hanging rotting from a gibbet.

Snafu rolls his eyes closed and the floor beneath him drops.

He falls.

Surprisingly, he hits the ground. It shoots pain up his legs and he collapses on his side, but that makes it easier for him to look up and see what the fuck happened.

The last thing he expects is Sledge balanced precariously on the platform above him, desperately trying to dislodge his sword from the wooden gallows where he sliced the rope in two.

It almost doesn't look like Sledge. The man's face is half covered by Snafu's lucky hat. Sledge's large nose is the dead giveaway, sticking out by half a mile. Snafu'd recognize that nose anywhere.

Snafu smirks, thinking about the old wive's tale regarding feet and size, and that a more accurate version for Sledge would be the measure of that nose of his.

"Shit, shit, shit," Eugene curses with every tug, glaring at the sword as if it's the sword's fault for getting stuck. He glares with that little purse of wrinkled concentration between his brows. Which Snafu enjoys so very much.

With one final violent jerk, Eugene manages to free his sword from it's prison. But the movement knocks him off balance and he tumbles through the same hole Snafu fell down.

Luckily Snafu is already there to soften his fall. Eugene lands on his back, spread eagle atop the pirate.

"Get your pointy elbow out of my gut," Snafu grumbles, trying to wriggle away.

Eugene hastily rolls off, and crouches beside him. Their eyes meet for a moment, and magically all of Snafu's troubles evaporate. Every thought flies out of his brain, like maybe nothing sensical ever existed there in the first place. Nothing else exists except the slight shock of coming face to face with someone who desperately wants to look at him as much as he wants to look at them.

Someone who has risked his entire life to save Snafu's ass.

Again.

Reality crashes back down on them pretty quick when the executioner's ax falls between their bodies.

Both their heads swivel to the ax in surprise, and then to each other. As if accusing the other for being distracted.

"Nice of you to finally drop in," Snafu drawls, "Lucky I did so much shit in my life that the long list gave you the extra time." He leans back on his elbow and tries to look as seductive as possible even with both hands tied behind his body.

Eugene scowls, "Nice of you to be so grateful."

Snafu's smile widens gleefully, "Nice of you to wear your best hat."

Eugene's eyes roll upwards towards Snafu's lucky hat's brim. Eugene's scowl deepens as if he only just remembered that he is wearing the monstrosity. He drags it off his head unceremoniously.

Snafu gets one glorious glimpse of the worst case of ginger hat hair he's ever seen before his vision goes dark.

Not because he's blacked out but because Eugene drags the hat forcefully down over Snafu's head and the brim covers his face. Which wouldn't be a problem except that Snafu's hands are literally tied behind his back and he can't push the hat out of his eyesight.

"Gene, not to complain or anything…" Snafu starts.

Eugene says nothing, he focuses entirely on cutting the ropes binding Snafu's wrists as quickly as possible.

Snafu feels the tension of the rope give when Eugene finally breaks through.

The first thing he does is adjust his hat's position and secure the tie under his chin so he can get a better look at Eugene's wonderfully wild hair. The second thing he does with his newfound freedom is grab Eugene's hand and hold on tight like it's the only thing that matters in the world.

They run.

Snafu is faster, and navigates crowds and small spaces easier, so it's mostly him dragging Eugene along. He thinks they're making it, that they'll successfully get away, until a bullet wizzes past his shoulder too close to his head. He yanks Eugene into the nearest alley and they duck behind a giant cart.

"They're shooting at us?" Eugene exclaims incredulously.

Snafu eyes him, "What'd you expect?"

"I… my father wouldn't…" Eugene sputters.

A voice in the distance yells "Ceasefire! For God's sake…!"

Another volley of shots and then the voice yells again "...do not fire on my son!"

The alley goes quiet.

"Eugene, son, please surrender. You can come out peacefully. Captain Haldane is prepared to take you both into custody, there will be a trial."

Eugene and Snafu look at each other.

They're trapped in the alley. It leads to a dead end with a giant wooden fence and absolutely no toeholds.

Snafu presses himself against the wall to try and peer through the crack between the cart and the brick, and he almost stumbles over an iron cellar door.

"Sledgehammer..." he whispers.

Together they wordlessly lift the door open and slip inside. The cellar is dark. It takes a minute for their eyes to adjust from the harsh sun. Snafu makes sure to lock the door behind them. And then he turns.

And finds Eugene standing in the middle of the room rifling through a giant crate. He holds a pink lace parasol in one hand and lifts a brand new muzzle-loaded rifle with the other.

"Looks like smugglers were either trying to sneak weapons into the city in boxes of petticoats, or sneak the ugliest dresses known to man into the city under the guise of weaponry. Hard to tell which is worse," Eugene says, deadpan.

"Eugene, no…" Snafu admonishes, approaching and taking the parasol from his hand, "Pink is not your color, ginger." He swaps the pink parasol for a muted sea grey one.

"No, you keep that one," Eugene shakes his head and hands the grey parasol back to Snafu, barely suppressing his smile, "It matches your eyes."

Snafu grins, snapping open the parasol and twirling it on his shoulder. Eugene leans in closer to him, a hand at Snafu's waist, like he can't resist.

A muffled yell from outside interrupts them, and they both hastily crouch low to the ground.

Snafu carefully climbs to the tiny window grate at street level and listens.

"I think your father is still trying to negotiate with you," he whispers to Eugene, "No one realizes we've moved. Idiots."

He turns to Eugene to discover the man dressed in the most god awful brown frock Snafu has ever seen. The dress has orange and yellow trimmings and clashes with Eugene's hair, like a sunset gone horribly wrong smeared over day old shit.

"Orange ain't your color either, boo," Snafu says mournfully. Eugene might've looked really nice in the powder blue dress Snafu can see peeking out of a bottom crate.

"Here, I found one for you," Eugene says matter-of-fact-ly, tossing a red bundle at him.

"Well at least one of us will match your hair," Snafu comments as he catches it and grimaces with distaste.

They spend the next minute strapping themselves into uncomfortable garments and a single petticoat layer to hang low and cover their boots. Snafu slows them down somewhat when he insists on strapping as many rifles as he can to his legs beneath the skirts.

"Waste not," he says with a wink when Eugene raises an eyebrow at him.

Snafu fills the dress's puffed sleeves with bags of bullets.

Ultimately their getup makes it awful hard to move, but Snafu figures ladies are always having trouble doing anything more complicated than walking in their outfits anyway, so them mincing their steps will hardly stand out as unusual.

They sneak to the ground floor of the building and pause to listen at the front door.

"Okay, plan. We open the parasols as we open the door, and hurry in the opposite direction, like we're afraid," Snafu whispers.

Eugene nods, daintily twisting his pink parasol in his grip.

Snafu nods back. And then pulls Eugene in for a passionate kiss against the door.

Can't give up his last chance to feel Gene sigh softly against him and all that. If this is his last.

"I love you…" Gene mumbles against Snafu's lips.

Snafu's eyes widen. He gropes for the door handle behind his back and throws it wide open, causing them both to stumble out onto the street.

Good a time as any to get this game started.

Their parasols pop open and they duck underneath the frilly lace.

Eugene titters in a grating fake falsetto voice that makes Snafu want to stamp on his toes. But the disguise works. The Governor's soldiers ceasefire and Snafu and Sledge run, skip, and hobble down the street towards the docks.

When they hit the wood of the decks and can dare to lift the parasols above their faces, the very first thing Snafu sees is the bright splendor of the Santa Alma's sails. The most beautiful sight in the world, floating only fifty feet away.

Next Snafu sees the second most beautiful sight in the world. A beauty that makes him stop short in his tracks: Eugene Sledge shedding his ugly brown orange shell and clambering into a skiff wearing nothing but his green velvet trousers. Rich and soft, the kind of fabric a man could run his hands over for hours.

And Snafu decides then and there that green is definitely Eugene's color.

"Snaf, jump!" Eugene reaches out towards him.

Except Snafu doesn't have time to jump because right at that moment a bullet rips between his legs, shoots a hole through his petticoat, and nearly hits one of the rifles pressed against his bare skin. Snafu immediately stops - frozen like his balls in the Antarctic during that one memorable sailing expedition.

"Hands where I can see them," Captain Haldane tells Shelton, "And Eugene, if you could please step out of that boat real slowly."

Alarmingly Haldane is using the same tone of voice on both of them. Almost friendly...kind...and mildly amused.

Snafu is surprised the man didn't just shoot Snafu on sight and deal with the emotional fallout from Eugene later.

Eugene calmly climbs out of the skiff and shuffles over beside Snafu. He stands tall and stiff as a board, as if he has something to prove.

"Hands out," Haldane orders Snafu mildly.

Snafu sticks out his wrists and lolls his head in a petulant stare.

Haldane gently clasps him in irons.

"Ack Ack, you can't arrest this man," Eugene protests.

"He has to follow orders or he'll be court-marshalled," Snafu reminds Eugene.

"Your friend's right, Sledge," Haldane says, "But I can also see to it that he receives a fair trial."

"Snafu's not my friend," Eugene snaps and then falters, "He's my...Captain."

"That what we're calling it these days?" Snafu grins and knocks his hips against Gene who blushes furiously.

Eugene continues speaking as if he didn't hear Snafu, "Ack Ack, the things I've seen...the way the law treats sailors...I don't know if I trust the courts…"

"Eugene, what were you thinking?" a woman snaps behind them. The sound of smartly heeled boots clips closer and closer down the dock.

Eugene visibly winces at his mother's voice.

Both her and the Governor arrive, surrounded by crisply uniformed soldiers.

"You can't run off like a boy anymore, Gene," his mother says.

"You're mother's right," Governor Sledge agrees, "What you did today must have consequences. Captain Haldane, have you secured the pirate?"

"Not quite," Haldane responds with amusement, "He is still armed, sir."

"Armed? In that dress?"

"Underneath it, I believe, sir."

"Well then," Governor Sledge sighs, "Divest this young man of his...armory."

Captain Haldane nods and starts untying the laces on the back of Snafu's gown. He strips off the overskirt, and petticoats, leaving Snafu standing bare legged in the most raggedy underwear he owns. Eugene standing next to him swallows with great difficulty.

Haldane then begins to slowly cut away the ties holding the rifles to Snafu's body. It's only when the last gun falls away that Snafu feels truly naked.

"Better check the sleeves too, Skipper," Snafu grins maliciously.

Haldane cuts off the bodice. As soon as the man's knife slices through a sleeve, bullets rain down onto the deck like it's hurricane season.

In the end all Snafu's got left is his underwear and the same ratty shirt he thought he was going to die in.

"Shame you had to ruin the dress," Snafu drawls, "Fit me so well."

"Take him away," Governor Sledge orders.

"No!" Eugene demands and puts himself between Haldane and Snafu.

"Eugene…!" his mother is shocked.

Eugene draws himself up and takes a deep breath, "I killed the Royal Navy commander of the Dauntless while acting as a pirate. If you are going to hang Snafu, you better hang me too."

Snafu is too shocked to breathe.

Eugene's father looks grim. "Arrest them both," he says.

The mother faints.

Captain Haldane quietly gestures for Eugene to extend his arms.

That shakes Snafu into action, "No!" he shoves Eugene out of the way, "That's not how it happened. Gene is innocent."

The mother, who had been starting to come round, promptly faints into her servant's arms again at Snafu's familiar use of Eugene's nickname.

Everyone else, including Haldane, ignores him.

"Snaf…" Eugene says warningly.

"No…." Snafu is shaking his head at him in exasperation.

They're both marched up the docks towards the fort.

"No!" Snafu repeats as he stumbles along behind Haldane, "no…"

Eugene goes silently. Willingly.

And it makes Snafu mad as hell.

They're brought to the same cell Snafu thought he'd never see again on account of being dead by morning.

In front of the cell door they're delayed.

"What's the hold up, Mac?" Haldane asks the warden.

"The master key's run off, no one can find it," Mac shrugs.

"Then find the individual key," Haldane patiently states the obvious.

"I have my best men on it," the warden smiles.

"They seem to be taking a long time, you best go help them Mackenzie," Haldane says.

The man rolls his eyes, but he disappears further into the fort.

"Ack Ack, please, let us go," Eugene requests as soon as the three of them are alone, "We'll leave port. Snafu's ship is set to sail. You can make it look like an escape. No one will know."

"I'm sorry, Sledge," Haldane says, and he sounds genuinely upset. He casually unlocks the irons on both Eugene and Snafu's wrists. It's a gesture of trust Snafu would never have considered had their places been switched.

Snafu stands, fidgeting awkwardly with his underwear and feeling like a third wheel.

Eugene calmly reaches down, grabs Snafu's fidgety hand, and twines their fingers together. He leans into Snafu's shoulder and murmurs, "Pull on that rag anymore and soon you'll be giving everyone a show."

"Like you'd complain," Snafu retorts.

Snafu tries his best to stand still. Though he's grateful Eugene doesn't release his hand.

Haldane observes them with a knowing expression. "Be careful boys," he warns.

They wait in silence the rest of the time it takes Mackenzie to find a key.

"Hey boys," the warden returns and waggles a key in Snafu's face, "you're in luck, I found the small key."

Snafu casts his eyes to the ceiling.

With a compassionate goodbye, Captain Haldane leaves them to their fate.

The cell door is unlocked and Mackenzie shoves them both in.

A small mercy - keeping them together - or an act of necessity in a relatively small fort, Snafu doesn't know. When the door closes and locks behind them the only thing he focuses on is Eugene's hand in his.

"Looks like it's all over for you two," Mackenzie says, leaning against the cell door. He says it casually, as if trying to start a conversation with an old buddy.

Eugene cuts his eyes to the man outside the cell.

"Sort of a… what do you do now, huh?" Mackenzie's smile is slimy, yet almost genuine. The type of man who can't imagine a life or mind more complicated than his own.

It draws a stark comparison between the supercilious warden versus naive pretty boy Sledge, who's world started out equally as narrow, but who was determined to learn. And to change.

"Here," Mackenzie passes a bottle of rum through the bars, "Everybody deserves a last meal."

"Thank you, sir," Eugene grits out, ever the polite gentleman.

"What an idiot," Snafu says under his breath as he watches the warden leave.

If it weren't for Eugene clinging to his hand in a death grip Snafu might wonder if being alive was worth being back under this asshole's thumb.

Of course, technically it's Eugene's fault for landing Snafu in jail a second time. Otherwise he could be peacefully decomposing right now.

As soon as they are alone Snafu slips out of Eugene's grasp and crosses the cell to the outermost wall. There's a window, high above, nearly level with the ceiling, and Snafu worked out the climbing path on the stone the last time he was trapped in this godforsaken place.

Eugene watches silently as Snafu expertly scales the rock.

Snafu knows Eugene could easily follow. He's seen the boy monkey up rigging enough times to realize that when it comes to heights, Eugene shares the same lack of self preservation sense as Snafu.

But this time Eugene lets him go it alone.

Snafu eases his ass onto the three foot deep window ledge cut into the wall and presses his face against the bars. If he squints he can almost make out the sails of the ships down at the dock. They blur together, though, becoming one massive fluttering speck, like a caught moth.

He sighs, and leans his head back against the wall. There is no way he could recognize the Santa Alma from here even if she did escape in time. When he glances down, he sees Eugene still standing in the same place, staring up at him.

"Take a seat, we'll be here awhile," Snafu drawls, closing his eyes, getting comfortable.

Eugene huffs. But Snafu also hears him drop into the pile of straw in the corner.

"I am aware we will be here awhile, Snaf," Eugene snaps, "I may have never been in a jail cell before, but I do understand the general operating principle."

"Could'a fooled me," Snafu drawls, "The way you were tripping all over yourself to get in here."

"I…" Sledge hesitates yet somehow his voice is still firm, "I told the truth."

"Truth'll get you killed," Snafu says, "And it ain't reality, anyway."

"I did kill the commander, Snaf," Eugene argues.

"You didn't have a choice…"

"I did! I made my choices and I won't take them back."

"You were following my lead...I put you in that situation...your choice was a matter of survival…"

"Snaf, I killed to defend your life. That was my choice. I'd do it again, and I will accept the punishment befitting the crime. I won't let you shoulder all the sins of the world yourself. Especially not mine."

Snafu knocks his head against the wall again out of frustration, and falls into silence. He fiddles with a loose pebble, and then tosses it out the window, watches it splash in the water below.

"Next time my life is in danger and you feel like playing the hero, don't," Snafu spits out.

"You don't get to make that choice," Eugene says, sounding arrogantly pleased with himself at having won this particular conversation.

The next pebble Snafu tosses hits Eugene on the head instead. It bounces off harmlessly.

"Hey!" Eugene exclaims, tilting his head back to glare at Snafu.

Snafu grins.

Eugene folds his arms and shrinks further into the straw.

They sit in silence for what feels like an age. Emotions keep itching under Snafu's skin, and he knows what he wants, but he doesn't know how to get it, or if he even deserves it if he does get it. Snafu watches the sails outside the window come and go freely in the open air to distract himself.

At some point Eugene falls asleep. He sleeps fitfully, with a lot of twitching, but deep enough that Eugene fails to hear the soft clatter of paws on the tile floor.

Snafu silently slides down from his perch and greets Deacon at the cell door. The first thing Snaf does is pocket the offered gift hanging from Deacon's mouth. He sticks both hands through the bars and thanks the puppy by giving him extra scritches.

"Good boy," Snafu whispers as quiet as he can.

His voice wakes Eugene up anyway.

"Shelton?" he asks, groggy, "Deacon?" Eugene pushes himself to his feet and crouches near Snafu, but when he reaches through the bars Deacon ignores Eugene in favor of the pirate.

"I'm his favorite now," Snafu taunts with glee, "We bonded last night. He came and slept right outside my door."

"Only cause I sent him to stand guard," Eugene protests, looking a little jealous. "Isn't that right, Deacon?" he asks the dog as Deacon finally moves from Snaf's hands to Eugene's, "You're a loyal dog."

Snafu leans against the cell door, hand on a hip, and watches Deacon try to lick Eugene's face.

"I'm sorry, Sledgehammer," Snafu says.

"What for?" Eugene asks, looking perplexed.

Snafu shrugs and climbs back up to his window perch. He curls his legs up to his chest and rests his head on his knees.

Eugene heaves a sigh. "Snaf, please stop pouting and stay down here. With me."

"I ain't the one with those thin pursed lips," Snafu taunts, "You look more like the pouting type to me."

Eugene turns bright red - a blush almost as endearing as his little annoyed expression.

"Fine," Eugene says shortly, "Stay up there."

If Snafu climbs down, he'll kiss Gene, and if he kisses him, he might hold him, and if he holds him, Snafu might fall asleep in his arms, and if Snafu falls asleep it's going to be a lot harder to do what needs to be done.

He stays seated at the window and maintains his watch.

Eugene sits against the cell door with one hand stuck through the bars, resting on Deacon's fur.

"I ain't from New Orleans," Snafu confesses, just to fill the silence.

"What?" Eugene looks up, startled, "What do you mean?"

"I'm from northern Louisiana. Born in a one room shack, youngest of nine, took baths in the metal laundry basin, I was always the last with the water so always smelled the worst. Ma died having me, Pa died twelve years later in an accident with a farm gate, I hopped a river boat south, starved on the streets of New Orleans till I stowed away on a navy ship," Snafu says quietly, "Nearly starved there too."

He isn't paying attention to Eugene's movements, so he doesn't notice till it's too late and suddenly Gene is heaving himself up onto the window ledge next to Snafu. Eugene settles in his seat and stares hard as if daring him to protest.

"You deserve better," Eugene says with conviction.

"Oh yeah?" Snafu smiles, "You gonna give me better? Going to pull me out of the dirt and let my siblings rot? Some of them are already rotting. Literally. Six feet under. Can't do nothin for them."

"I know I can't but…"

"They're all just as much poor cannon fodder as I am," Snafu continues, "Not much use except as bodies in a count."

"I don't know any of your siblings…"

"Lucky me then, to be someone you know…"

"Snafu, give it a rest. You're being difficult."

"I'm being honest," Snafu throws Eugene's own words back in his face, harsh.

Eugene grabs his hand, and presses his fingertips against the ring on Snafu's finger.

"Maybe I can't save the world, but I can save you," Gene says softly.

"I'm going to free the world," Snafu counters confidently, with a smile that stretches his face but doesn't reach his eyes, so burdened with the impossibility of his life goals, "That's what freebootin' is all about. The first sign you're ready for piracy: you have a desperate need for freedom."

"I don't understand…"

"You already have it," Snafu says, "That freedom. Bought, paid for, and born into it. Don't need to go looking for it. Waste of your time."

Eugene narrows his eyes. He leans back, takes Snafu's hand with him. He holds Snafu's clenched fist gingerly in his lap. Eugene's thumb trails circles around the base of Snafu's palm. Snafu's skin is particularly sensitive there and every pass of Eugene's calloused thumb sends distracting pulses straight down Snafu's spine.

"Why do you think I was on that shipwreck you pulled me out of in the first place?" Eugene asks.

"Gene…"

"I signed on to Mobile's navy to help people. To keep the port secure. I wasn't going to just sit around and watch while everyone I cared about made sacrifices that I'd never need to face. While everyone else became...cannon fodder," he spits the last word out with shame.

"Gene...'"

"So, yeah. I'd help you free the world. If you'd let me," Eugene concludes.

"Sledgehammer, I'm always gonna end up here," Snafu argues, "One way or the other, I'll get caught. One day it'll stick."

"Not today, it won't."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Not tomorrow either if I…"

"Look into my eyes, and tell me…" Snafu interrupts. He leans forward, pushing into Eugene's space, "...someday if they condemn me and pardon you, are you gonna be able to sit by and watch? Cause no matter what happens between here and there, that's how I'll end."

The hand circling his wrist goes still, limp.

"I'm dying, Sledge," Snafu concludes.

Eugene stares into Snafu's eyes for half a heartbeat, and then closes the short distance between them. Gene drags a hand through Snafu's curls and kisses him like their life depends on it.

And Snafu would be hard pressed to say this isn't what he wanted.

"Promise me," Eugene whispers in between kisses, "Promise me you will accept my choice to die beside you."

Snafu nods mutely and cups his hands around Gene's face.

Eugene pulls Snafu bodily into his lap, which is a little dangerous with them being ten feet off the ground. But Snafu supposes he's set to die anyway, and cracking his head open by falling off a ledge mid pleasure seems like a better way to go than his other option. Besides, up here, they're hidden from view.

When they're finished, a little messy, a little sticky, and having a hell of a time shuffling back into their clothes on such a narrow ledge, they climb back down. Sledge goes first. He jumps down, almost eight feet, and hops a little at the bottom. Eugene turns around and stares up at Snaf, his eyes expectant, waiting to help but not offering it.

Snafu skidaddles down, not taking his eyes off Sledge for an instant. Not checking his momentum, he collides bodily with Eugene, who catches Snafu in his arms and kisses him. Again. If Snafu's going to make a fool out of himself, might as well see it through to the end.

They fall into the straw together, and Sledge holds him close. He finds his ring on Snafu's hand and carefully twists it on Snafu's finger so the black jeweled front is on display for the world. Snafu twines their fingers together and rests his forehead against Gene's, who closes his eyes.

Snafu almost laughs. For the first time since he met Eugene, the boy's breath stinks. Guess no one, not even the Governor's son, gets to meticulously clean their teeth in a jail cell. Snafu gingerly kisses the tip of Gene's nose.

The nose twitches, and this time Snafu actually does laugh. Eugene cracks an eye open, sees Snaf smiling at him, and then pulls him in for exaggerated sloppy kisses until Snafu finally settles down calmly, with his head on Gene's shoulder.

Sledge falls asleep wrapped around Snafu as tight as his damn ring.

Some time later a whistle through the window grate wakes Snafu up from foolish daydreams. He's never in his life been more grateful or frustrated to hear Burgie's voice. Snafu carefully lifts Eugene's arm off his waist and slides out of the other man's grasp. He stands up, and watches Eugene's chest rise and fall with every gentle breath. Sledge is so quiet, he could almost be dead.

If Snafu doesn't leave, Sledge will be dead. If Snafu disappears, however, none of the charges against Sledge can stick. Without any evidence or testimony against Eugene, the boy will be safe. Eugene's crazy, misplaced adventure will be forgotten.

Snafu breaks his promise. He drags Eugene's ring off his finger as he leaves. Eugene sleeps on peacefully, unaware, with the ring resting beside his head.

Snafu silently pulls the jail's master key from his inner pocket and slides it through the bars. He deftly unlocks the heavy cell door. The door creaks as it opens and he pauses, his shoulders hunched and eyes on the floor, waiting, listening. When nothing happens he quickly slips through the crack in the door and swings it shut again. He twists the key in the lock once more, and pockets it.

Maybe if they can't open it, Sledge will stay locked away, secure.

When he looks up from the key, he sees Sledge sprawled out across the floor, his head pillowed on a pile of straw.

It takes every bit of self loathing Snafu has to turn around and walk away. He's always been selfish. Never had no one to care for and no one to care for him.

Eugene Sledge is better off without him.

Snafu slips past the guards, steps outside the fort, breathes fresh air again, and there waiting beside a cart is his faithful quartermaster.

For a while, after he escapes jail, the thrill of reuniting with Burgie, his crew, and his ship provides Snafu with enough adrenaline to forget about the ache in his chest. But starting from the first night aboard ship, Snafu's bed is much too large. He takes a tiny corner of it for himself and piles all the pillows around the other half. He doesn't recall it feeling so big before. He never did take up much space himself.

Eugene, though. Eugene would sprawl out like a starfish. Not in the beginning, but once he started trusting Snafu, once he relaxed. And more often than not, Eugene would end up lying half on top of Snafu. His face so close Snafu could count his freckles, and smell his hair.

He tries to imagine Eugene sleeping in the fancy Governor's mansion. He can't picture it somehow. The only image Snafu's brain conjures is of Eugene sleeping in a jail cell, his expression happy knowing Snafu is nearby.

If he dwells on that too much the guilt sets in, so he mostly tries not to think at all.

He succeeds in not thinking about it until he opens one of his older ship logs and finds doodles scribbled on the margins. The drawings are mostly flowers, and ship instruments; tiny and not particularly detailed. Except for one full page sketch, at the very back of his largest logbook.

It's him. In pristine, exacting detail, down to the last curl on his forehead. Soft, and delicately shaded. The lines of the drawing are fine enough to be almost invisible, like he is looking in a black and white mirror.

The Snafu in the drawing is sleeping, which explains how Eugene got away with it without him knowing.

Snafu slams the book closed and drops it under the table. He vows to not look at it again.

Except he does. Often. Whenever he has an extra minute, he takes the book out, and cracks it open, and runs his finger down the page. As if he can touch the artist's hand through the drawing.

He looks at it so often the graphite starts to smudge.

Eventually the ship makes it to Cape Horn, and Snafu finds the tiny canal Eugene wrote about in his journal. They almost make it through the canal, around the tip, and into open water on track for the Pacific. Except the weather turns dangerous and waves lash the side of the boat, sending a cold shock down Snafu's front. Wet, shivering, and remembering a promise Eugene once made, Snafu makes his own decision.

"Turn her around," he tells Burgie.

Burgie sighs, "Snaf...the men will hate this."

"We'll never make it otherwise," Snafu's eyes are luminous and grave, "Not alone. We need more bodies for this."

"We or you can't make it alone?" Burgie asks.

Snafu sucks on his bottom lip and turns his spyglass to the sliver of clear blue sky in the east. Burgie waits patiently for a minute and when nothing but silence is forthcoming, he strides across the deck to give out new orders.

The crew immediately shares their opinion.

"We're going back for our navigator ain't we?"

"Thank goodness."

"Cap'n would get us lost on a river if we let him."

"Always did think the code 'bout leaving crew behind was a bad one."

Burgie smiles.

As luck would have it, the Santa Alma also encounters a spanish merchant ship on it's way home after pillaging the colonies. The pirate schooner swiftly overtakes the slow merchant and the pirates commandeer the entirety of the ship's stolen native gold.

The Santa Alma also acquires a new passenger. A strong minded girl who goes by the name of Florence and nothing else. No family, no friends, and certainly not a part of the merchant's fleet. She claims her destination is some pacific island called Australia but that she's not picky about the journey to get there. Snafu takes her aboard solely to find out more information on this mystery island if nothing else.

Burgie hastily gives up his private cabin for the girl and starts bunking with the crew himself. Until Snafu gets lonely enough to offer room in his bed for Burgie, which is the worst idea ever because suddenly Snafu finds himself being kept up all night having conversations about girls and courting. A subject which Snafu has zero experience in.

"Just kiss her and be done with it," is the only advice Snafu can offer Burgie.

Luckily Burgie quiets down after that suggestion, although it makes Snafu start to worry he might be down one quartermaster soon.

However, nothing appears to change in the next couple of months and by the time the ship reaches Mobile, Burgie and Florence remain as cordial and distantly polite to each other as ever. Snafu gives it up as a lost cause and goes shopping.

"You look ridiculous," Burgie says after spending an hour assisting Snafu with his costume.

The costume is incomplete by Snafu's standards. He couldn't find a proper crown. And he had to add decorative elements to his crook and flail himself. But luckily these fancy french balls always seem to require people to wear wigs nowadays anyway. He repurposes a portion of his treasure into jewelry and gold plating. And to top it all off, with the help of an especially hairy crew member, Snafu procures a beard long enough to be strung underneath his costume mask.

"I look proper," Snafu jokes to Burgie, using his crook as a dandy cane.

"You look like a royal court jester," Burgie counters, "All that purple and gold."

"Exactly," Snafu says confidently.

"He looks like a gold crusted emu," is Florence's opinion, which puzzles both Snafu and Burgie greatly. "From Australia," she adds. As if that explains anything.

"The breeches might be a little wide, Shit-N-Ass," Leyden comments.

"No one asked you," Snafu retorts.

All that matters is that he will be unrecognizable at Mobile's OMM ball.

His coach is almost unrecognizable too. The leather covering the tiny, odd shaped thing is stained and bleached from the sun. If Snafu holds a candle up to it the shade is nearly a perfect match for Eugene's hair. Except brighter.

"Does it turn into a pumpkin at midnight?" Snafu asks, sneering at the orange color.

"It's either this or the dung cart, Snaf," Burgie says, "You spent the entirety of your treasure allotment on your outfit."

Orange coaches notwithstanding, it's thanks to his expensive drapery that no one blinks twice when Snafu sails past the guards, up the fort steps, and through the entrance. Everyone assumes he is a visiting wealthy gentleman from some distant city, here to experience Mobile's Mardis Gras celebrations. His costume works flawlessly. No one remembers him as the pirate they tried to hang a year ago.

The only downside to everyone being in disguise is that he can't find Eugene.

He doesn't spend long looking inside the fort. It's dusty and suffocating, and Eugene was more the outdoors type anyway. Instead he takes his search to the gardens.

As he walks, Snafu sticks to the shadows. Despite looking the part, he still feels out of place, so he skulks from tree to tree. He avoids the stark yellow light cast by the candle lanterns strung overhead. And only surfaces to peer cautiously around every mile high brushed and powdered wig to see if the person's face matches the one he is looking for.

Of course the person he is looking for is the only person not wearing a wig or mask.

Eugene Sledge's brilliant copper hair sparkles

under the lantern light. Snafu is momentarily blinded by it the minute he finally recognizes the back of the head he is staring at. Trust Gene to buck convention and attend a ball with a bare head. He is dressed plainly too in comparison to the other party goers. His jacket is unadorned and his trousers are simple cotton. There's a single flower stuck in the lapel of Eugene's coat and Snafu sneaks closer to see if he can recognize it from Eugene's logbook drawings.

Snafu never meant to be creeping around in the dark. And he certainly never meant to eavesdrop on a private conversation.

It starts when a familiar looking, excessively handsome blond man brings Eugene a drink. The man can't be much older than either of them, but he wears his military rank with ease. He lacks a wig as well, but Snafu can hardly blame the man for it, considering how shiny his natural hair is. He and Eugene almost match, somehow. As if they've known each other long enough to become the same person in habit and gesture.

Their open familiarity with each other sends a rush of jealousy down Snafu's throat. He might vomit, if he isn't careful.

When he hears the other man try to cajole Eugene onto the dance floor, Snafu's first reaction is to slink off petulantly into the night. To disappear and never return. His whole body burns, and he finds himself grinning murderously.

But then Sledge says "No".

Sledge says 'no' very stoutly, and his face is mournful. Almost as if he is missing someone.

And the handsome man returns to the dance floor alone.

Something has soured Eugene's enjoyment of the gala's frivolity and splendor.

Snafu wonders if maybe it was him.

The world of these galas was always a farce, Snafu wants to tell Sledge. The crowd all gentlemen by government decree; the appearance of nobility rather than the act.

This elegance is unsustainable, this generational wealth built on the backs of stolen labor. To exist within it is to be complicit. As far as Snafu can see the only way to escape the monster society created is to run away and not look back.

Run with me, Snafu wants to say, Run with me and we can be free.

He doesn't say any of that, though. He merely holds his chin high, straightens his back, and steps closer till he is directly behind Eugene's shoulder. Snafu removes his mask for this moment. It is crucial Gene recognize him.

He takes a deep breath.

He hesitates because he almost doesn't want to see how Eugene's mood will change. Whether it turns to anger, or frustration, or worse - nothing.

Then he clears his throat. Takes careful note of the way the back of Eugene's neck tenses.

"I only dance when Eugene Sledge wants to dance," Snafu quotes. He mimics Eugene's accent flawlessly, throwing a bit of his own swagger in for good measure.

Eugene slowly turns around. His eyes are wide with shock as they sweep over Snafu's body, from head to toe. He says nothing, but his mouth gapes a little, like a fish.

"Referring to yourself in third person now?" Snafu asks, "Better be careful...that's the second sign of becoming a pirate." He can't bring himself to meet Eugene's eyes, so Snafu watches the other guests strolling through the garden behind Eugene's head.

Sledge's mouth snaps shut. His shock turns into a glare. He steps forward and invades Snafu's space. It's the kind of close proximity a gentleman might instigate in order to challenge him to a duel. Snafu expects to be slapped with a glove.

Instead Sledge snatches Snafu's carefully powdered wig off his head. He throws the poor thing to the ground, stomps on it, and grinds it into the dirt. The embittered frown on Sledge's face never wavers.

"That was very expensive," Snafu drawls conversationally as he stares at the sad deflated mess of grey hair on the ground between them.

"It looked awful on you," Eugene says bluntly.

"Least it's not my head being flattened," Snafu shrugs, nudging the destroyed wig with a toe. He feigns nonchalance. Inwardly his heart soars, higher than a bird. Sledge still cares. Sledge is angry, but his anger means he still cares.

"Don't tempt me," Eugene snaps.

Snafu finally raises his eyes to meet Eugene's. "Thought I already did that," Snafu says with a challenging grin.

Eugene is taking measured breaths, and his hands are shaking just a tiny bit, like he is holding himself back. "You were not a temptation…" he says, softer and without anger, "You were just...you."

Snafu doesn't know how to respond to that.

"Who are you supposed to be, anyway?" Eugene asks, drawing his eyes up and down Snafu's form, taking in both him and his costume.

Snafu struts a little and holds his mask over his face for Eugene to see, "You can't guess?"

Eugene rolls his eyes, "Some kind of King?"

"Osiris" Snafu says proudly.

"Who?"

"An Egyptian god," Snafu explains, "One who casts judgement on the dead."

"It suits you," Eugene says.

Snafu grins, stands a little taller.

"Especially considering the lack of shirt," Eugene adds snidely.

"The cape and mantle sort of make up for that," Snafu says.

"Yes, that is an impressively vibrant color of dye," Eugene comments. He pulls at the top of the cape and draws it outward, away from Snafu's body to see the sheen of the fabric as it cascades around his hand.

"And this?" Eugene knocks his hand against the wooden staff tucked in Snafu's belt.

"A flail," Snafu says, "To go with my golden crook." He holds out the cane he's been leaning his weight against.

Eugene steps closer, takes the crook, taps it expertly, "Real gold? Business must be going well."

"Booming," Snafu says sarcastically through his teeth.

Eugene chuckles, "Any more Navy ships?"

"Not yet," Snafu replies, "We'll see how tomorrow goes."

Eugene gives Snafu back his crook and tweaks the beard on Snafu's mask instead. Snafu moves the mask away from his face and slips it into his belt alongside the flail.

They're so close, Snafu can smell the tobacco on Eugene's breath.

'Touch me,' Snafu wants to beg, 'Stop touching my clothing, touch me instead.'

They stand in silence for a time.

Eugene's hands return to his pipe.

Snafu studies the flower attached to Eugene's coat.

"Never seen you draw that flower before," Snafu notes.

"Never had a reason before," Eugene replies.

"What's your reason now?" Snafu eyes him warily.

"Sentimental," Eugene says, "Traveled all the way to the Louisiana swamp looking for someone...didn't find them. But I brought a cutting of these home so I'd have at least something to show for the trip." He pockets his pipe, slips the blue iris off it's clip and holds the flower out to Snafu, "They grow beautifully in my garden at home."

It's identical to the kind of irises that grow in wild bunches around the shack where Snafu was born.

"You saw where I came from?" Snafu asks, nervous.

"I did," Eugene actually smiles. Softly. Fondly, like it was a good thing.

It baffles Snafu to no end, but he tries to take it in stride.

"The shack used to be a chicken coop," Snafu grins back, "Was probably better as a chicken coop."

"There's an alligator living in it now," Eugene holds the flower out for Snafu, "I had to fight it for this."

"How brave." Snafu doesn't take the offered flower. "What were you looking for? In the swamps?" he asks.

Sledge's hand drops to his side. "Damn it, Snaf. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

"Might help, my spelling is atrocious, you should know better than anyone," Snafu taunts.

"F," Sledge says haughtily, "U...C...K…" he takes another step closer, trodding on Snafu's wig. "Y...O...U…" Sledge doesn't even have to reach to grab the collar of Snafu's jacket, they're so close. "S...H...E...L…" Sledge closes his lips around the stem of the iris to hold it while he unpins the flower clip from his own coat and pokes it in Snafu's collar instead. The tension around Sledge's mouth forms Snafu's favorite tiny crease between his eyebrows. "T..." Sledge slips the Iris into the clip and smooths the front of Snafu's jacket, "O...N."

"Captain," Snafu corrects, blatantly watching Eugene's lips form each letter.

Gene's eyes flash. He grabs Snafu's collar - forcefully this time - and yanks him into a kiss. Snafu nearly jumps out of his skin in shock.

The kiss lasts less than a second. Snafu shoves Eugene away. His eyes anxiously dart towards the small crowd in the garden. Eugene follows his fearful gaze, and then wraps his long fingers around Snafu's wrist. He drags Snafu through the trees until they come to a hedge maze.

The maze is overgrown. At one point it might have been one of those carefully manicured french monstricities, no bigger than knee height, meant for casual amusement of the European aristocracy, and replicated poorly in the colonies. Now the hedges are well over six feet tall, and thick with tangled branches. Eugene and Snafu barely manage to fit through the entrance.

But the hedges promise privacy.

The air inside the maze is still, and silent, and damp, and slightly cooler than the humid evening around them.

After turning a few corners, Eugene shoves Snafu against a hedge. The bush is prickly, and not at all comfortable, but Snafu finds it hard to care when he is distracted by the press of Eugene's lips, and Eugene's body, and the pleasant intensity of Gene taking all his frustration out on Snafu in ways better than wig destruction.

Without words it feels as if no time passed between tonight and the last they saw each other. Snafu is as familiar with Eugene's body now as he was months ago. Eugene briefly lets go of Snafu's waist to undo his own belt and the buttons of his trousers. Snafu hastily shoves his hand down Eugene's pants himself before the other man can get to it. He breaks off their kiss, chest heaving, to lean back against the bush and curl his fingers around Gene's dick. Eugene braces a hand on either side of Snafu's head and hovers there. He makes a small, strangled noise when Snafu's hand starts to move, but he doesn't look away. Snafu's mouth goes dry and he hardly dares to breathe for fear of breaking whatever the fuck this moment is.

Slowly, he jerks him off, staring into Eugene's dark eyes the whole while.

Eugene makes a complete mess of his pants. He buttons his doublet closed, and smoothes it neat, before hungrily reaching for the red sash wrapped around Snafu's waist.

After a fumbling attempt to get Snafu's clothes off (during which Snafu immediately regrets making his costume so complicated - "Don't. It's fine," Snaf mutters with his hand on Eugene's), Eugene gives up and simply grabs Snafu's hips, and collapses towards him in an embrace. Surprised by the sudden switch to calm, Snafu reacts by limply draping his arms over Gene's shoulders, and waiting.

Eugene turns his face into the crook of Snafu's neck and fully encircles his arms around his body. "God, Snaf," he groans.

"Eugene?" Snafu asks.

Eugene doesn't respond. Snafu can feel Gene's eyelashes blinking against his neck where he is hiding his face.

"Gene?" Snafu tries again.

Eugene sighs. He kisses Snafu's bare skin.

"We should talk," Snafu prompts.

Eugene actually laughs. "Now you want to talk," he says without lifting his head.

"S'what I came here for," Snafu says.

"What is it you wanted to say, then?" Eugene asks, leaning back just enough to look Snaf in the eye.

I love you.

"Nothing," Snafu says, "Thought maybe you might. Maybe a few words to get off your chest?"

Eugene smiles sadly, and leans back in to press their lips together briefly. One small kiss and then he rests his forehead against Snafu's.

"Hope. And faith." Eugene murmurs.

"Hm?" Snafu grunts.

"The flower I found. Irises. They symbolize faith," he fumbles that same heavy ring off his finger that Snafu threw back at him, and then slides it onto Snafu's hand for a second time, "I told you to keep it. I meant what I said."

Snafu stares into his eyes, "Gene…I'm sorry."

"I never doubted you," Gene brushes aside his apology.

Something crazy is on the tip of Snafu's tongue and threatening to spill out, so he keeps his jaw clenched tight and his forehead pressed to Gene's. It's enough. This is enough.

"Stay?" Eugene asks.

Snafu fidgets nervously.

"Here. For a few days," Eugene elaborates, "I've taken care of everything. I want you to meet my family, properly. You can even invite the crew."

"Third sign of piracy: extending dinner invitations to pirates," Snafu drawls. He's imagining Burgie's reaction to getting a cream colored, floral embossed card in the mail.

"Privateers. You are an official United States privateer, Captain Shelton," Eugene corrects. He laughs at Snafu's startled expression, "I have the paperwork all drawn up. It's in my room. Waiting for your signature."

"In the mansion…"

"Yes, to do this you'll have to go to the governor's mansion. You might even have to sleep in an actual bed that doesn't rock up and down with the waves."

"That takes all the fun out of sex…" Snafu murmurs.

"I'm sure I can improvise," Eugene kisses his neck with a smile.

"Will you be doing the rocking then?" Snafu quips.

"For as long as you want…" Eugene promises.

Snafu nods and kisses him, tries to quell that ache that's bubbling up inside him again.

Eugene breaks away, grinning ear to ear. He looks at Snafu as if all his prayers have been answered. And who is Snafu to deny him any of it.

So when Eugene takes his hand and leads him out of the maze, Snafu follows.

He is so dazed by an emotion he never thought himself capable of feeling again he almost doesn't notice where Eugene is leading him. Until he recognizes the same inner courtyard where Snafu was condemned to die.

Snafu stops short. His abrupt halt yanks Eugene back by his arm. Gene turns around and stares at Snafu in confusion. Snafu is preparing to run. His palms are sweaty, and the skin there feels melted to Eugene's, and he's about to twist away and disappear when Eugene's hold on him tightens.

Eugene is looking Snaf straight in the eye, and he slowly lifts their clasped hands to his lips, "It's all right, Merriell. I promise."

And in full view of the Governor's entire court, Eugene Sledge bends to kiss Snafu's hand. The same hand Snafu recently stuck down Gene's pants.

No one says anything.

All eyes are on them, though.

Correction, all eyes are on Snafu. His planned ostentatiousness backfires. Eugene notices him, for sure. But so does everyone else.

His costume glows golden in the candlelight. If the glint half blinds him when he moves in the wrong way, he can't imagine how difficult it must be for someone standing across from him.

Snafu grins petulantly when Eugene guides him forward to stand in front of the Governor himself. He can tell Eugene's father recognizes him immediately. The man frowns. He shakes Snafu's hand politely, but he doesn't speak a word.

Surprisingly, it's the Governor's lady who breaks the tension. She eyes her husband calculatingly, sucks in a deep breath, and reaches out to take both of Snafu's hands in hers.

"I want to apologize for the previous case of mistaken identity," She says, regally and with great intent, "As I understand it, Commodore Haldane confused you with the dreadful pirate Snafu. I assure you, Captain Shelton, we will rectify this mistake and will remain forever grateful to you for bringing our Eugene back home alive."

Snafu's eyes slide sharp towards Eugene, realizing for the first time how the boy must have brought about this miracle of clearing his name.

Eugene returns Snafu's stare with a confident grin. He rejoins their hands and pulls Snafu off to the buffet table. A very smart decision as he is going to need a full belly to stomach all this nonsense.

Contrary to popular opinion, food on a ship is not half bad. Burgin keeps their cook happy with the third highest salary on board and frequent stops in port for fresh supplies. Snafu's diet as a child on land, however, was regularly lacking. His father was a failed farmer, and boiled cabbage soup was their evening meal more often than not. So Snafu supposes his standards for good food are not as high as most people's.

But this buffet laid out before him at the Governor's ball? This is a masterpiece.

Snafu immediately heads straight for the pork chops. He loads up a plate and even concedes to taking utensils and a napkin when Gene offers them.

"Just so you know, we're going back for seconds," he informs Eugene. Eugene chuckles, and holds Snaf's plate for him while he pours them both drinks.

They find a table under a tree to sit and eat. If Snafu must use a fork and knife instead of his fingers, he's gonna need two hands to do it. And that shit's not possible while standing.

Eugene scoots his chair conspicuously close to Snafu's. But the low hanging branches of the willow tree partially conceal them from view, so Snafu allows it. After he finishes his first plate, he does indeed go back for seconds, and thirds. And then Eugene lights his pipe and they pass it back and forth. Their shoulders and legs are pressed together, and Eugene's arm reaches behind Snafu's neck to rest along the back of his chair. Sometimes when Eugene leans in to gently lift the pipe from Snafu's hand, he whispers in his ear and his nose brushes his cheek.

At one point Snafu makes a particularly cutting remark about the state of one unfortunate gentleman's coat, and Eugene starts laughing. He laughs so hard at the joke he leans his hand against Snafu's back and hides his face in his shoulder. Snafu has never seen Gene laugh like that. Ever. A wave of relief washes over Snafu and for a minute he forgets himself and tucks a stray lock of hair behind Eugene's ear.

His gesture is altogether too much like a caress, and he remembers with cold fear, that they are out in the open.

The minute Snafu's fingers leave Eugene's skin, his nerves are back. He darts a glance towards the Governor's dias and he freezes in place. The harsh sensation of a particular pair of eyes boring into the back of Snafu's head takes him out of whatever spell he'd been under making him feel like he and Eugene were the only two people in the room.

Snafu may have the weight of a ring on his finger, but the thousand yard stare of Governor Sledge holds the weight of the world. And every bit of it exudes disapproval.

It chills Snafu to his bones.

At the end of the party, after they've returned to the Governor's mansion, Snafu is shown to an opulent room by an opulently dressed butler. Eugene disappears somewhere down the hall. And Snafu finds himself standing alone, wearing his gold plated costume, inside a masterpiece of a room, feeling an utter fool.

He removes all his jewelry and unwraps his sash. He drags the covers off the bed and makes his own nest in front of the roaring fireplace. He curls up and he tries to sleep.

He is interrupted when Eugene mysteriously appears in Snafu's room through a hidden door behind a bookshelf.

Gene laughs at Snafu's floor nest, and helps Snafu pull the blankets back onto the bed.

Eugene then helps Snafu out of his costume, and this time he succeeds.

They fuck tenderly atop silk sheets and plush pillows. And the way Eugene whispers "Merriell" in his ear is almost enough to make Snafu forget he is here on borrowed time. Almost.

Right as Snafu is about to finally fall asleep there is scratching and a thud against the bedroom door, and for a second Snafu's heart stops at the fear they've been caught. But Eugene simply chuckles and wraps an arm around Snafu's bare waist in a quick hug.

"Go answer it," he says with a kiss to the nape of Snafu's neck.

Eugene lets go of Snafu and reclines back against the pillows, his eyes twinkling.

Snafu grunts about spoiled Governor's sons and casts his eyes overhead to the four poster bed's velvet canopy, but he drags Eugene's breeches on and does as he is told.

On the other side of the door waits a very patient dog. Deacon wags his tail excitedly and the dog's entire body wiggles. Snafu immediately crouches down to greet him and gets a few licks to his face in return. Snafu nearly falls over, but he moves to the side enough to get the dog in the room and the door closed.

"You were missing your master, huh?" Snafu asks Deacon, scratching under the dog's ear.

"He was missing you," Eugene speaks up from the bed, "This entire week, he has done nothing but stare out the window at the ocean and whine. If I didn't understand exactly how he felt, I might have been jealous."

"That's the real reason I've come back," Snafu says as he wriggles back out of Gene's pants and crawls into bed, "To steal your dog and turn him pirate."

"Guess if you've already got one of us, you might as well have the whole set," Eugene replies, drawing Snafu close and insisting on a kiss before letting Snafu settle his head against Eugene's shoulder. Deacon happily curls up at the foot of the bed.

The next morning he wakes to find that somehow during the night Snafu ended up flat on his back with Eugene sprawled across his body and Deacon stretched out across his feet. He is completely unable to move.

Snafu snakes his arm out from underneath the covers and tickles Eugene's ear. Eugene twitches in his sleep. Snafu stays persistent with the tickling until Eugene rolls over, almost accidentally knees Snafu in the groin, and is woken by Snafu's panicked yelp.

With Eugene awake the tickling quickly turns into a wrestling match, which Snafu almost wins. He straddles Eugene and pins Gene's hands above his head. Snafu presses teasing, featherly light kisses across Eugene's collarbone until Deacon barks and a sharp knock on the door interrupts them. Eugene bucks Snafu off him, dives underneath the blankets and slides down the bed in a lump like a coward, leaving Snafu on his own.

"Yeah?" Snafu calls out with as much authority as he can muster. He holds the bedcovers tight over his waist, but his hands won't stop shaking.

It doesn't help that Eugene chooses to put his mouth somewhere very distracting on Snafu's body right as the door unlocks and opens.

"Deacon's food is waiting for him downstairs," the butler says kindly, "Would you like your breakfast brought to your room?"

"Ah, no," Snafu improvises, "I will...uh...be out. Shortly."

Deacon jumps off the bed and trots out the door, tail wagging.

The butler nods and backs out of the room.

"Thank you!" Snafu adds belatedly to the closing door.

Once they're alone again, Snafu yanks back the blankets covering Eugene and finds his lover shaking with silent laughter and the worst case of bedhead he's ever seen.

"Asshole," Snafu accuses him, refusing to give in to the urge to run his hands through Gene's hair - a vibrant red in the morning light.

Instead Eugene pulls him down, silences him with a kiss, and they're both rather late for breakfast.

Snafu stays in the mansion for three days. He doesn't send Burgie any dinner invitations, knowing how well they'd be received, but he does mail a monogrammed card letting the crew know he's safe. He includes a handful of stolen silver artifacts in the parcel to appease any pirate tempers.

Every afternoon Eugene closes them both in the study and forces them to go over page after page after page of legal documents. Snafu attempts to read a few lines here or there, but mostly he only serves as a distraction. His hands wander of their own free will, and they both continually risk getting caught with Snafu's hands up Eugene's shirt or on his thigh, or tracing the line of Eugene's mouth.

"Pay attention," Eugene huffs with as much frustration as Snafu felt when Eugene kept trying to pry Snafu's attention from his maps.

"I am," Snafu insists, trailing his finger down Eugene's neck and studying the way the scruff of his hair stands on end.

"To something other than me," Eugene admonishes.

"Impossible," Snafu leans back on the cushy window seat and admires Eugene's profile against the sunlight. He grins devilishly, crosses his arms behind his head, and adjusts the seat of his hips in a languid manner. Snafu has never had this much free time to indulge in all his urges and he is determined to enjoy it thoroughly.

Eugene stops pretending to read the paper he is holding and glares at Snafu out of the corner of his eye.

It only makes Snafu smile wider.

"Fuck it," Gene says. He drops the page to the ground, plants a hand firmly on the windowsill, and leans over to kiss Snafu with wild passion. Snafu laughs between kisses and Eugene wraps an arm around his waist and tightens his hold, lifting Snafu off the seat until there is no air left between their bodies.

Then the locked door to the study opens.

Snafu drops his arms from around Gene's shoulders and goes still and silent. Eugene sits up, immediately alert. But bizarrely his hand falls atop Snafu's thigh and prevents Snafu from moving his leg off Eugene's lap. Snafu is left lying awkwardly on his back like a turtle, one leg still around Eugene's waist, the other shoved up against the cold glass windowpane, bent as far away from Gene as he can get it. The tent in Snafu's loose breeches is painfully obvious, and his mind is racing, calculating every possible exit from the room. There is only one thing keeping him in place and it's Eugene.

Unfortunately Eugene's strong grip on Snafu's upper thigh only worsens his state of arousal.

The Governor himself calmly looks at them, walks into the room, and closes the door behind him.

"Did you get all the necessary documents signed?" the Governor asks in a tired voice.

"Yes," Sledge replies defiantly, his shoulders straight, his chin high.

Snafu can barely breathe, let alone talk.

"Good," the Governor remarks politely, "I trust Captain Shelton will be setting out on his first officially sanctioned voyage soon."

Snafu's eyes dart between Eugene and the Governor in a panic, trying to guess what his answer should be.

"Actually," Eugene says, "He's staying here. Indefinitely." His tone is light but his accent is sharp.

Snafu, for his part, is still blinking like a fox caught outside its hole.

"Very well," the Governor says solemnly. He stands in the middle of the carpet, and makes no move to leave, even though they are all sitting in silence.

After a minute the Governor lifts his head and gazes out the window beyond where they're sitting. "It's a beautiful day today," he says casually, "I think I might organize a hunt." And with that he takes his leave. The door closes behind him gently. They hear the lock click back into place.

"Shit fuck, he's gonna kill me," Snafu claws at his face with his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"No," Eugene says calmly. He releases Snafu's leg and Snafu curls in on himself like the turtle he feels. "He won't," Gene promises.

Snafu groans.

"Snafu," Eugene says, trying to grab Snafu's hands behind the protective barrier of his legs. "Merriell…" Eugene eventually succeeds in wrapping his fingers around both of Snafu's wrists and uncovering his face.

Snafu lets his knees fall open in defeat. He stares at Gene between his legs balefully.

"I love you," Eugene tells him. Certainty is written all over his face.

Snafu doesn't know how Eugene manages to look at him with such intense affection when they're surrounded by so much fear.

"Father is the only one who has the keys to this study," Eugene says, "I trust him. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Snafu's response is immediate and uncompromising.

Eugene lets go of Snafu's wrists and twines their fingers together instead. Snafu uses the grip to pull himself into a sitting position. He takes a moment to run his eyes over Eugene's serious face. His chest presses into the side of Eugene's shoulder.

"I trust you with my life, Gene," Snafu confesses.

"Then stay," Eugene says, and closes the deal with a chaste kiss.

That night the two of them fall asleep in Eugene's own bed instead of the guest room. Snafu luxuriates in the comfort of being utterly surrounded by reminders of Gene.

But this time Snafu wakes up alone.

He hears a knock. Not on Eugene's door, but on the door of the guest room down the hall. Snafu falls off the bed in his haste to both yank his pants up over his ass and trigger the bookcase to open the secret passageway. He manages to get back in his room, slip on his shoes, and open his door by the time the impatient person looking for him knocks a third time.

"The Governor wishes to see you," the butler says.

"Right," Snafu nods, scratching the back of his neck and makes as if to step into the hall when the butler places a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps Sir should put on a shirt?" the butler smiles in a fatherly manner.

"Ah…" Snafu glances down at his bare torso and retreats inside his room to fish out something respectable.

"Perhaps a coat as well?" the butler once again poses the suggestion as a question.

Snafu gets the distinct feeling he is receiving advice. He hunts through the wardrobe and holds out a deep purple velvet ensemble for review.

The butler smiles and shakes his head discreetly.

Snafu presents two more outfits before they decide on a smart grey number made of flawlessly tailored rich fabric but without a lot of frills.

"Good luck," the butler whispers to Snafu before leaving him outside the door to the Governor's private library.

Snafu has already spent many hours in the family library. It's the only room in the mansion he actually likes. The Sledges own a copy of every single overseas expedition logbook Snafu could possibly want. Sailing is clearly a pastime both Eugene and his father enjoy.

This is the first time, however, that Snafu is given the privilege of seeing the Governor's personal book collection.

As soon as he walks through the door, the first thing to catch Snafu's eye is a large, exquisitely detailed globe resting in its own golden stand on the floor to the right. He itches to lay his hands on it, and he barely manages to restrain himself before the high backed chair turns and the Governor sets his eyes on him.

For a split second Snafu's breath leaves him. But then, he relaxes. He tilts his head with a small smile, and crosses the room to the globe. He ignores Eugene's father in favor of running his finger down the eastern coast of the Americas. Keeping his finger on the surface of the globe, he rotates it until he is touching China, and then the East Indies. He lifts his hand, spins the globe, and stops it with a touch.

He shifts his finger aside and reads the name of the country he landed on.

Japan.

"How much?" the Governor asks plainly.

"What?" Snafu's head jerks up.

"How much money can I offer to make you disappear from my son's life?" the Governor folds his hands on his desk and looks at Snafu pleasantly.

Snafu stares in shock, processing this new information.

"If you are killed, Eugene will mourn you forever as if you were a martyr. But if you leave, he will forget you," Governor Sledge explains.

"If I leave he'll miss me forever," Snafu taunts, smiling.

"You want to leave," Governor Sledge points out, "I can see it. Eugene certainly sees it. You are restless here. You have nothing here, except him. Let go of him. And I will give you any amount you ask for."

Snafu honestly considers it. Considers that - if Sledge's family truly hate Snafu that much - leaving Eugene alone might be the best decision for both of them. Considers how much Eugene loves his family, enough to risk his life to get back to them, to lie to a pirate. Considers the fact that the kind of money Governor Sledge is talking about could probably get Snafu across the pacific and back five times over. Considers how often Snafu has seen Sledge genuinely smile back home with his familiar comforts compared to his scowls aboard ship.

"I'd break his heart," Snafu says before his throat chokes closed. He coughs. His eyes sting.

"Exactly," Governor Sledge agrees amicably.

Snafu laughs. He hates how it sounds wild and a little despairing, even to his own ears. He can feel a grin on his face, mouth stretched so wide his muscles already ache.

"Well," Snafu bites his lip. He spins the globe again, faster. And this time he lets his finger drag against the curved surface, intentionally stopping it right over the port of Mobile. He looks up, and saunters to the desk, pulling Eugene's ring off and holding it high for the Governor to see.

"You want me gone that badly, I'll do it for free," Snafu offers, "But I'm keeping this." He closes his fist around the ring.

Taking a leather cord strung with keys from the corner of Governor Sledge's desk, Snafu unhooks the clasp and carelessly dumps the keys to the floor. He slides the ring onto the cord, knots it in the middle to keep the ring secure, and hooks the clasp around his neck.

"He'll know," Snafu says as he stuffs the necklace down his shirt front, "No matter what lies you tell him, he'll know. And he'll come after me."

The Governor doesn't respond, and Snafu turns his back on him to walk out the door. He'd take the globe with him, too, if he could think of a way to lift it on his own.

Snafu leaves the estate without another word to anyone. The relief he feels when he walks past the final gatehouse is palpable. He can breathe easier again out here, in the fresh air. And when he reaches the docks his confidence in life soars the minute he sees the Santa Alma waiting patiently in the bay. For the next few weeks he remains confident every time the crew sets sail, charting a course that wins them easy prizes while staying within a couple days reach of Mobile. They make berth regularly in the port, the crew eagerly enjoying the extra shore leave and spending money.

But after the first month passes and there is no sign of Eugene, Snafu's confidence dwindles. By the sixth month the heavy weight of the ring around his neck is no longer a security but an anchor. More time passes, and after the second full year spent alone, Snafu gives up hope.

He begins to plan another voyage around Cape Horn. This time enroute to Japan.

(My sketch of Pirate Snafu)

(the END for now, i swear they get back together, i promise, eugene didnt forget he’s just busy and he thinks snaf is an asshole who left without saying goodbye. if you want to see more PLEASE TELL ME cause i might do it)

#sledgefu #sledgefu pirate au #bad germs

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armageddon-generation · 6 years

Text

Fixing The Legend of Korra - Book 4

AGAIN THIS IS A SOLID SEASON, SO THIS IS MOSTLY JUST CHARACTER STUFF – I ALSO VEER INTO FULL-ON FANFIC AT A FEW POINTS, BUT FUCK IT

I also need to thank @threehoursfromtroy for being a huge inspiration, especially with the korrasami dynamic - you’ll notice I magpied a bunch of ideas from her amazing fics.

Book 1, Book 2, Book 3,

KUVIRA

FUCKING CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT – let’s fully explore her reasoning for leaving Zoafu (the White Lotus is pretty much done, the Dai Li have been disbanded but now they’re individual warlords ruling over Ba Sing Se as a city state, the airbenders are still rookies and she sees them getting injured)

Emphasise the familial connections between Kuvira and the Beifongs – playing sports with Wing and Wei, falling for Bataar Jr.

Besides Bataar, have her be closest to Opal. They were both outsiders – the non-bender and the unofficial adoptee, but Opal, as the only non-bender in a family of historically famous benders, was also jealous of Kuvira the metalbending prodigy, who appeared to be everything Su wanted in a daughter. Kuvira was similarly jealous of Opal, the biological daughter who was doted on despite not doing anything to ‘earn’ it. This complicated relationship evolved into their bitter hatred of each other

Have Kuvira’s isolation in Zoafu parallel Korra’s in the South from Book 1

Without Korra there to push them forwards, everyone has started backsliding – In Kuvira Bolin has found a Korra-surrogate to rely upon instead of taking responsibility for himself (this is the same reason, ironically enough, he was attracted to Eska – she controlled him and he could hide behind her – something a more mature Eska is able to see when they meet at the Corniation)

EARTH EMPIRE

Let’s see Bolin leading the charge clearing out Ba Sing Se, and Kuvira liberating the city and defeating the Dia Li (who are trying to establish their own control of Ba Sing Se as an independent city-state) for good

Explore the apparatus of the Empire a touch more – the propaganda recruitment system – how does fascism work?

Have Raiko supply troops to Su so he doesn’t look like a complete fool. That way when she defeats Zaofu and sees Raiko violated her terms, Kuvira has a legitimate reason to go after Republic City

Also, can we make the Battle of Zoafu a proper siege once they break the ceasefire? Avatar does Helm’s Deep? Pretty please? Kuvira knows all the city’s defences as former Head of the Gaurd, so let’s demonstrate her tactical prowess dissecting the domes’ weaknesses. And have some of Zaofu’s defenders start siding with Kuvira (people she used to command etc), fighting amongst themselves to give her an easier victory

When the Beifongs are captured they go through the camp system, so we get to explore it – take inspiration from true stories and films like Life is Beautiful –The other prisoners either hate them for giving up, hate them for creating Kuvira, or look up to them as their only hope. But in the end they’re just a family trying to hold together on the brink.

Bring in the Red Lotus members hiding across the world – they start trying to move against Kuvira from the shadows. They are the strongest chance the world has against Kuvira without Korra, and Raiko’s willingness to accept their help (as the shady politician) shows how desperate the situation is – Korra needs to step in

ASAMI (& KORRASAMI)

The best part about Korrasami is how opposite they are – The non-bender figurehead, The bender figurehead. Traddition vs innovation, spirituality vs technology, idealism vs realism, faith vs strategic calculation – Asami should by all means be a supervillain, but she’s just too good a person. Play into that divide and conflict in Book 4

Asami is keeping herself dangerously busy, between helping the Equalists and managing the spirits living in the city that are against her industrial company

Without Korra, Asami felt lonely and vulnerable. To compensate for a world without Korra, (much like Kuvira) Asami secretly develops plans for super weapons inspired by a combination of her father’s old Equalist designs – these weapons are designed to artificially replicate bending attacks on the scale of the Avatar state – Seismic waves, artificial flooding, firebombing, weaponised wind machines etc. She has prototypes developed

This gives her attempts to re-connect with Hiroshi more weight – she’s lost, and reviewing his old work makes her feel closer to him than she has in years – she thinks she’s beginning to understand what he went through when her mom died.

When Korra returns the weapons cause major conflict between them – especially when undercover Red Lotus steal Asami’s plans (exploiting their new connection with Raiko) and attempt to use protypes to ambush Kuvira – causing an all-out battle

Because the protypes were so hastily assembled they don’t work particularly well and cause chaos – Team Avatar has to jump in and save as many from the crossfire as they can, and Korra has to ignore a chance to fight Kuvira – they then have to leave the people to be taken by Kuvira, because they can’t save all of them.

These weapons would be key to Korra’s arc, as she doesn’t yet trust or have full control over the Avatar State again – she’s fighting that power as recreated by the person she cares most about, compounding the themes of Korra confronting herself

Kuvira uses the weapons the same way Korra used to use the Avatar state – wantonly and without thought, causing mass destruction.

Kuvira defeats the Red Lotus and takes Asami’s weapons for herself (Asami is horrified – she has indirectly become what her Father was to the Equalists. Varrick is being more morally upstanding than her.)

Korrasami is not smooth sailing in this book – both of them are aware they love each other, but they also have to deal with their own shit first. Korra’s time away let them build up perfect, imaginary versions of each other. Asami needs to stop idolising Korra (the same mistake Hiroshi made with her mom) and Korra needs to stop idolising Asami (as I felt the original show tended to do)

In the finale, Korra is the one to get Hiroshi out of jail, because Asami needs to move past his shadow – the repentant Hiroshi comforts her and assures her she is better than him. So much like her mother. He also expresses gentle approval of Korra before he dies.

Asami is the woman in the chair in the finale, simultaneously helping with the hummingbird suits and coaching the United Republic Forces (Hi, General Iroh) through how to defeat the artificial bending weapons.

I don’t know if it’s feasible, but I think reuniting the OG Team Avatar (Toph, Katara and Zuko) as three of the most powerful benders in the world (plus Zuko has a dragon) against these things the same way the White Lotus took back Ba Sing Se in ATLA would be really cool

The series ends not with the culmination of a relationship a la ATLA, but the tentative beginning of one

MAKO

Mako has let himself become consumed by his work – the only one to visit him is Kai, who’s filling in Bolin’s spot as little brother. (“Stop breaking in to a police officer’s apartment!”). Their relationship has grown a lot stronger, but they both miss Bolin

Mako is caught between both sides of the Earth Empire debate – he works for Wu and knows that deep down he’s actually a decent guy, but he has an established professional relationship with Kuvira, and he really respects her. They joke about his new job together before the Corination.

Kuvira has become a surrogate Korra figure for all Team Avatar – Mako (who admits he’s still in love with Korra) sees the potential for Kuvira to compensate for the loss of Korra, and must learn to let go of this unhealthy dream.

Because he’s no longer a member of the Republic City Police. Mako and Lin finally get to work together as equal partners

AIRBENDERS (KAINORA)

Look, I just want some cute long-distance Kainora stuff, OK? Keeping in contact via astral projection

Kai has been unofficially adopted into the airbender family and acts as a big brother to Rohan and Meelo

(I also think it’d be fun if Rohan was an uncontrollable bending prodigy like Jack-Jack from The Incredibles, bouncing around the house like the Tasmanian Devil – Pema and Kai are the only ones who can control him

Jinora has become the day-to-day leader of the Air Nation, using astral projection t co-ordinate people across the globe, with Kai in support

They express frustration with Air Nomad tradition – they sneak out at night and run around the new Republic City, giving us a chance to explore – Jinora shows Kai the wonders of the Spirit Wilds, while he teaches her how to win at street gambling.

They flirt with breaking the law – practicing pickpocketing the rich to feed the poor, and dabble in vigilantism – until they get caught.

Mako gets them off charges, but this causes a big conflict between Tenzin and Jinora. My problem with Jinora’s characterisation the original Book 4 (she was previously one of my faves) was she seemed too perfect. In this version, that perfection is an act, and she needs a way to blow off steam. Tenzin argues (quite rightly) that by taking the law into her own hands Jinora is no better than Kuvira (or Korra, Jinora points out. “Jinora, you’re not the Avatar.” / “I’m as good as.”)

This is important because original book 4 Jinora felt super stuck-up and full of pride, not good traits for an airbending master. Here we’re emphasising then confronting that big-headedness. Kai helps her realise she’s still just a kid, and that’s OK. Her family (and Korra) help her realise she’s stronger when she embraces the strength of others

I also like the idea of air nomads roaming with herds of bison, like Bryke originally envisioned for Aang

ZUKO, IZUMI AND THE FIRE NATION (This part veers into full-on fanfic territory and doesn’t really contribute to the plot, but I need to get the idea out there so sorry)

Use flashbacks to explore how the unrest in the Earth Kingdom parallels the unrest in the Fire Nation after Ozai was defeated

These could adapt elements of the Smoke and Shadow comic, where Mai’s father leads a rebellion against Zuko. This would take place when Zuko is in his early thirties, just after Kya was born (her waterbending was a trigger for nationalists)

The opposition find Azula after she ran away at the end of The Search, and manipulate her mental state to use her as a figurehead against Zuko – an alternate legitimate heir

Zuko and Katara have to flee with the toddler Kya, and go underground in the Fire Nation as the Blue Spirit and the Painted Lady respectively, fighting the coup from the inside (with Mai and Ty Lee, allowing us to explore everyone’s interesting relationship history) while everyone else tries to fight from the outside

During her wanderings Azula found the Sun Warriors and the dragons Rin and Sha – she uses her new followers to storm the temple and capture the blue dragon (just like her great grandfather before her). Azula is now riding around on a huge blue dragon. You’re welcome.

This is how Zuko gets his dragon – he and the Gaang liberate the Sun Warriors and the red dragon partners with him in order to save its mate

In the final battle between the two factions Azula inevitably snaps and the coup leaders are unable to control her – she goes nuts and tries to lay waste to both forces.

Zuko and the red dragon save both the blue dragon and Azula from herself. He is able to reassert control over the nation and get Azula back to hospital. This explains Kya’s extreme guilt and Izumi’s extreme reluctance to get involved in the Earth Empire situation

TOPH, LIN AND SU

Kyalin are already a thing by the time Book 4 starts – Korra is flabbergasted, and they set an example she wants to follow with Asami – things are very casual and domestic, which is a new and weird experience for both of them

When Lin meets up with Toph to free the Beifongs and then they free Su, have the idea of motherhood come up a few times – Toph suggests Lin has waited this long to re-enter a relationship because she doesn’t want kids, because she’s scared she’ll end up treating them like Toph. Toph encourages Lin to make her own choice uninfluenced by her – Lin can learn from Toph’s mistakes, and Su has made a great mom

The subject of Lin and Su’s dads come up. In this version, Sokka is Su’s father – hence her darker skin – but the brief affair was secret because he was married and Toph was with Lin’s father – one of those regretful one-night stands you always knew was a bad idea

This is a bombshell for Su, who never realised – it completely recontextualises her relationship with both Sokka and the Red Lotus (she almost joined the people who killed her father) . It also forces her to reconsider both her political and personal responsibilities – she accepts responsibility for her part in creating Kuvira, and understands her abandonment issues a little better

Lin, however, the aspiring detective from a young age, figured it out a long time ago (she always assumed Su knew). This is why Lin resented Su so much when they were kids – her arrival caused Toph and Lin’s dad to end things, because she was proof Toph never got over Sokka

Now Su is the one angry at Toph, and Lin is there to apologise and comfort her. Opal recognises what Toph is trying to do; throw herself under the bus to get rid of any lingering resentment between her girls and strengthen their sisterly bond – she’s forcing them to move on

Through Opal’s intervention everyone manages to patch things up

DARK KORRA/KORRA’S TRAUMA

In the original series it was never explained what that creepy vision of Korra in chains actually was. Sometimes it was just in her head, other times it physically attacked her, and then it just disappeared.

My explanation links to the Book 2 finale – Jinora was able to bring Raava back because she still existed within Vaatu. By the same logic, though Vaatu was destroyed, he (and Unalaqq, now forever bonded with him) exist with Raava’s light. In Book 3 we established Raava was directly feeding off of/reliant on the light within Korra. Now that Korra has been through all this trauma, that light has been replaced by negative energy, which allowed Vaatu to grow within her.

The Dark Korra hallucination is a manifestation of Vaatu’s dark power growing within Korra, feeding off her trauma and attacking her from the inside-out. It is both psychological and spiritual. When she goes to the Tree of Time, she sees echoes of Vaatu are there. He has stolen Unalaqq’s voice and face, completely taken him over – the ghost of the family member Korra failed to save.

When she finally reconnects with Raava, Korra defeats the Dark Korra; she can’t destroy the darkness inside her, but she can move on

Korra has to find alternate energy source for the Avatar State now her past lives are gone. She learns to channel the energy of the spirit world through Raava (a spiritual extension of Toph’s root connections, possible thanks to the open portals)

During the finale Korra’s appeal to the spirits to protect the world is heard – as the spirits attack Kuvira’s weapon, simultaneously the swamp halfway across the globe demolishes the Earth Empire’s vine harvesters – all the spirits come out of the woodwork and attack, claiming the area as a new Spirit Wild, like in Wan’s time

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mala-sadas · 6 years

Note

Can you please elaborate on your Diamond ADHD headcanon? I have ADHD, too, and Diamond is one of my favorite PokeSpe characters.

pytrosia replied to your post “whenever I want to complain about somebody else’s headcanon for...”

Please elaborate. Pls

Well, this lil headcanon of mine seems to be a bit more popular than I anticipated. So, here we go: the reasons why I headcanon that Dia has ADHD - though do note that this is pretty much entirely based on my own experience with ADHD, so these may not all match up with common symptoms.

constantly unfocused, easily distracted. often by food.

speaking of food - he’s always hungry and snacks all the time. I have a voracious appetite if I don’t take my meds, and when I’m feeling fidgety I’ll often eat as a way to give my hands something to do.

he struggles when he has to think of things on the spot, but when he has time to think about something then he can figure it out.

he often pays attention to the little details that other people miss (though sometimes he kinda misses the big picture).

his conversation with Cyrus on top of Mt. Coronet? He understands the complex ideas that Cyrus is getting at but his brain is too jumbled to explain it as eloquently, so he explains it in simple bits and pieces that are a lot easier to put together.

any time he’s cooking and he’s suddenly super focused and attentive? Sounds like hyperfocusing to me.

I can’t think of any examples of it so maybe it’s just the vibe he gives off, but he definitely seems like the type to have no internal sense of time.

IRON ISLAND. There’s so much evidence in Dia’s training on Iron Island, and I think it was rereading those chapters that made me come up with this headcanon in the first place.

let’s start with when Riley gives Dia the instructions for what he needs to do to clear the training course, and Dia gets totally overwhelmed by all the information that Riley’s giving him all at once.

his whole battling style in that encounter with Steelix just screams it - throwing Don and Lax to block its attacks to buy him time to figure out how to attack with Tru - and he’s too nervous/overwhelmed to make a decision until Riley reminds him why he’s training; then he’s able to refocus himself and decide on a command for Tru.

he keeps a journal to take notes on what Riley tells him/what he figures out during that training so that he doesn’t forget any of it.

after he talks with Riley about how he can’t manage to get his Pokemon any faster, he stays up all night trying to figure out how to get his Pokemon to attack faster. Hyperfocusing on a problem until he solves it.

#pokespe #pokemon special #trainer diamond #headcanon #adhd #adhd diamond #pytrosia #anon ask #thanks for the ask!!

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calliopesquill · 6 years

Text

A Year in the Life: Chapter 11

Wow everyone, thanks so much for all your great responses to the last chapter! It means so much to me, and I've loved seeing your reactions to Nell and her adventures with the Riveras so far. One of the most common comments I got when I first started posting this was "I'm not always big on oc's but this is pretty good so far", so I hope I've been meeting your expectations with her.

Once again thanks so much to all of my betas, without whom there would definitely be typos and probably a "Potato Hector" or two (accented letters are important, kids!),

And now, on to the next chapter!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 11: Aftermath

The Rivera family home was located in a tower complex maybe twenty minutes away from the Department of Family Reunions building. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, weighed on the group as they boarded the trolley and took their seats. Héctor sat silently next to his wife, their hands intertwined, his thoughts a thousand miles away. Oscar and Filipe leaned against each other, matching bowler hats drooping as they tried to stay awake. Nell sat backwards in her seat, gazing out at the city that would be her home for the next year. It was beautiful. She hadn’t really taken the time to notice that until now. But then, she had been a little distracted. Everywhere she looked was color and light, with each tower like its own small cross-section of history. The streets were mostly empty now, with most people deciding to take at least the morning to recover from their late-night visits across the veil. That was probably for the best. Nell really wasn’t up for being stared at right now.

They would have missed their stop if it wasn’t for Imelda. She pulled the bell chain, signalling a stop request. Her brothers blinked dozily at the sound and rubbed their eyes as the trolley reached the platform. The five of them disembarked, then slowly made their way down a level to the house. Coco, Julio, Victoria and Rosita were waiting for them at the gate. They had finally caught up to everyone at the Department of Family Reunions building, but with nothing else that they could add to the story of the night’s events, it had been advised for them to just go home and rest. That, of course, was easier said than done. They were definitely exhausted but who could sleep after a night like they had? Especially with so many unanswered questions. They answered as best they could. Miguel was home safe. De la Cruz was being hunted by the police. And Nell… Nell would be staying with them for a while.

As Héctor hung back to explain what had happened, Imelda led Nell to a second floor bedroom next to Victoria’s. It was furnished with a double bed with a curving wrought-iron frame. A heavy wooden bureau was set into the corner against the opposite wall. There was also a wooden dressing table set with an oval mirror, with a three-legged stool tucked underneath.

“We were saving it for Elena and Franco when they joined us,” Imelda told her, moving across the the room to pull open the pale blue curtains, letting the morning sunlight filter in through the small window. “We hoped not to have to use it for a few years yet, but it is yours while you’re here.”

“Thanks Imelda.” Nell said softly. She hesitated at the door, glancing back down the hall where the others were still gathered. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but she was able to catch a glimpse of Héctor hugging his daughter tightly at the bottom of the stairs. A hard ball of guilt lodged in her throat. “I guess...we should probably talk about what happened.”

Imelda, catching the direction of her gaze, gave a small sigh. “It has been a long night for all of us. For Héctor especially.”

“I’m sorry. God, Imelda, I am so sorry.” Nell leaned back against the door frame, scrubbing her hands over her face. “This whole night -- it’s so fucked up. None of this was supposed to happen. All I wanted was for Miguel to be able to see you again. He’s been so torn up about what happened and not knowing if Héctor was okay, he literally started walking away from his own body at night to try and find a way across the bridge to see you. He was so worried and he hasn’t been able to tell anyone and I just wanted to help…”

“No one could have predicted what happened tonight.” Or at least that was what Imelda kept telling herself.

“And then on the cliffs… God, what was I even doing?” Nell groaned, almost as if she hadn’t heard Imelda at all. Damn it, Nell! What the hell is wrong with you? “I never thought he’d go that far.”

“Then why -- “ The question was out before she could stop herself. But she had to know. For Héctor’s sake, for all their sakes, she had to know. “Why say those things?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be true!” Nell burst out desperately. “He was going to throw Miguel off the ledge and it was too soon and I panicked. It was the first thing that came into my head and I never… It wasn’t supposed to be true. If I’d ever thought for a moment that it was, I’d never have said it. I wouldn’t do that to Héctor, or to you. He… I just wanted to distract him. Get him talking long enough for you to get in place. Or get him so angry he came after me instead. I never thought… ” Even now the enormity of that kind of betrayal left her sick and horrified. She couldn’t even imagine how Imelda and Héctor must be feeling. “He was supposed to deny it.”

But he hadn’t. And now they would all have to deal with the fallout. For a moment Imelda said nothing. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, so many things that she wanted an explanation for. But this was not the time for any of them. For now it was best to take a step back, to take some time to themselves to process all that had happened. “Get some rest,” she suggested at last, her voice quiet. “There is a bathing room down the hall if you want to clean up. We’ve decided to close the shop for the day, so if you need anything…”

“Thank you, Imelda. For everything.”

Imelda nodded, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against the wall with a sigh and could just barely make out the sound of Nell sliding down to sit on the other side. She was tempted to do the same. But for now her family, her husband, needed her. She would fall apart in her own way in her own time.

When she retired to her room at the other end of the house, she found Héctor already there. He sat at the edge of their bed, elbows braced on his knees, his head in his hands. He didn’t even seem to have heard her come in. In all of the years she had known him, there had only been once that she’d ever seen him look this...broken. Like he could break apart at any minute. That night he had almost gone to dust in her arms.

Imelda crossed the room to sit beside him, laying one hand gently on his shoulder. He turned to her silently, burying his face in the front of her dress as he clung to her, his body shaking with tearless sobs. Her heart ached for him. Even when they were living she had never been Ernesto’s biggest fan. He was pushy, self-centered, and manipulative, and she hated the way that Héctor gave in to him at every turn. But he was her husband’s oldest friend, so she had put up with him for Héctor’s sake. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined he would do something so hideous. She wished she was capable of getting physically ill, just so she could somehow purge the utter revulsion from her system.

For hours they stayed like that, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, until they finally drifted off in an exhausted sleep.

Miguel stared blindly at the faded linoleum floor, his mind still reeling. She didn’t get back across. She was stuck. She had made sure that he made it back, but had been unable to pass through the gate herself.

They had been at the hospital for hours, had been questioned at length by what felt like every doctor in Mexico, and still they had no answers. And what was worse, it seemed like they were all asking the same questions. Did she take any drugs? Of course not. Miguel knew she didn’t and the paramédicos had searched Nell’s apartment, just in case. Did she have a history of illness or seizures? No, not that they knew of. Was she on any medication? No. Had she had anything to drink the night before? Also no. Had she complained of headaches or any other kind of pain? No.

Nell had fallen into a coma, and nobody could figure out why. Nobody but Miguel. Miguel had the answer, but it was not one that he would be able to share with them. Unfortunately “My friend was astral projecting and got trapped in the Land of the Dead” was not exactly a medically viable answer, so Miguel kept his silence and prayed for a miracle.

Caro and his father sat on either side of him. Enrique had been his first call after the paramedics, and when Miguel said he wanted to ride in the ambulance with his friend, his father offered to drive him instead so they could give the paramedics room to work. He’d stayed at his son’s side through the endless rounds of questioning, and the boy’s frustration when the doctor’s refused to give them anything but the most minimal of updates.

The second call, which had technically been made by Caro, was to Nell’s parents. She had included an emergency contact page when the lease was signed, something that she’d never before needed to access until now. Miguel did not envy her the task of making the call, and didn’t think he’d ever forget the choked sob he heard from the other end of the line just as the call ended. They said they would be on the first flight down, and Miguel did not intend to leave the waiting room until they walked through the door. It was the least he could do for them. After all, if Nell hadn’t come to save him, she wouldn’t be in a coma right now.

What happened to a living spirit that remained after sunrise? He wondered. Would Nell be able to cross back over next Dia de los Muertos, or would she be stuck there forever? How long could a living spirit reside in the Land of the Dead? And -- his blood ran cold at the thought -- how long would her family allow her to stay like this? Would they need to put her on life-support or something? What if they couldn’t afford it? What if they decided to...take her off? Nell could die without ever having the chance to return home.

A hand on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. His father pulled him close, allowing his son to lean his head on his shoulder. He’d been more than a little concerned when he learned that his teenager had befriended a strange foreigner. Caro was a long-standing acquaintance of the family, and he knew that she would not rent to anyone who was in any way dangerous, but a father had a right to worry for his son. Miguel was a clever, kind, and loving boy, and so incredibly talented, but he had given his family his fair share to worry about in the last couple of years. Disappearing for an entire night after abuelita Elena smashed his guitar had been the worst of it, but his increasingly odd behavior afterwards had not gone unnoticed by the family. He had become obsessed with finding out what happened to Mamá Coco’s father after he disappeared, spending hours in the library and running down leads. They had helped him of course, because that was what family did, and because the more they found out, the stronger Mamá Coco’s memory seemed to become.

Miguel would never say what had happened to him that night, but ever since then there were moments where he held himself back, where it seemed like he was about to say something but would then crack a joke or immediately change the subject instead. And then the nightmares started. He wouldn’t say what they were about, but Enrique and Luisa knew when the dreams woke him. They had tried to sit him down and get him to open up about what was going on, and he did open up some -- the stress of uncovering the truth about his Papá Héctor and the backlash from the De la Cruz fans, some of which were among his own classmates, was wearing on him. There were whispers in town, and someone had even vandalized his locker at school. Rosa had stuck by him, defending him to her classmates, and many of them had turned against her as well. They had accepted it at the time, but it still felt like there was something their son wasn’t telling them.

To say they were shocked when they finally uncovered the truth was an understatement. To be honest, they hadn’t expected to find much at all, but finding out that not only was the the original composer of all of the De la Cruz songs, but that he had been murdered for them? But Miguel hadn’t seemed surprised. Somehow he seemed to know already what they would find. Things got better since then, but there were moments now and again when they would catch a glimpse of him on his own, moments when he seemed so much older than his fourteen years, and somehow removed from the people around him.

The dreams had started again a few months ago. Not bad ones, the kind that had him waking in the middle of the night to wander the house like a ghost, but they couldn’t say they were good either. Miguel had always been an active sleeper, the kind that rolled over often, flinging off blankets and sprawling in a dozen different positions over the course of the night. But starting that past spring there were nights where he went completely still for hours at a time, waking listless and despondent the next morning. It did not escape the notice of either Enrique or Luisa that something changed once their son met Nell. There were still times in the night when he went absolutely still, but he no longer dragged himself through the day afterwards. In fact, these last few weeks were the happiest they’d seen him in a long time. It was as if whatever weight he had been carrying had finally been lifted away.

“She’ll be okay,” Enrique promised softly. “The doctors are doing all they can for her.”

Miguel nodded silently, and wondered if it would be enough.

The sky was dark when Nell woke again. She drifted for a while, content to remain in her bed a while longer. Until she remembered that it was not her bed that she was lying in. She rolled over onto her back, scrubbing her hands over her face as the events of the previous night came flooding back. De la Cruz, the race across the city, Buttons, the showdown at the cliffs, the bridge… Miguel was safe but she...she was trapped here, and had no way of knowing if she’d ever be able to go home again.

No. She set her mouth stubbornly, giving her head a defiant shake. She would go home. She would see her family again. And damn it, she would not spend the next twelve months sulking about it. No more wallowing in bed like an invalid. She was still alive. She had to act like it.

With that thought in mind she tossed back the covers and pulled open the curtains. The city glowed with thousands of colorful lights, creating a gleaming aurora against the night sky. It really was a beautiful place, something she hadn’t been able to appreciate the night before -- given she’d been a little busy chasing a vengeful, murderous mariachi across the city. But it really was one of the most incredible places she’d ever seen. She thought for a moment that if she had to be stuck in another world for a year, she was glad it was this one.

Nell stared out at the city for a few more minutes before finally turning away. No more hiding. It was time to face the rest of the Riveras. But as she cross the floor a glimpse of her reflection in the vanity mirror stopped her in her tracks. She was an absolute mess. Her hair looked like she had been caught in a windstorm, her clothes streaked with dirt. No way was she going downstairs looking like this.

There was a comb in one of the drawers of the dressing table, which was a blessing. After much fighting and swearing, Nell finally managed to get her hair in some kind of order, braided back and tied with one of the ribbons that she also found in the drawer. With that settled, she moved to the bureau in search of fresh clothing. The top couple of drawers were definitely for Elena, filled with neatly folded floral-print shirt-dresses. The bottom drawers held khaki-colored pants and short-sleeved, button-down shirts. Given the height-difference, Nell went for the khakis first. She was several inches taller than Miguel’s Papá Franco, so they fit more like capris than full-length pants, and she still needed to borrow one of the belts provided to keep them up, but they seemed like a better option than her dingy leggings. The blue button-down shirt she paired with it was a much better fit.

Hesitantly she opened the door, taking a quick peek down the hallway. It was almost a relief to see that nobody was there. She stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Oh good, you’re up!”

Nell jolted, flinging her bundle of clothes in the air as she flattened herself against the wall. “GAH! Rosita! God, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “You’ve been asleep all day so I was going to come check on you, see how you were doing.”

“I’m...okay.” Nell told her, crouching down to pick up the clothing that she’d dropped. “I’m adjusting. It’s...kind of hard to wrap my head around, honestly. Yesterday feels like a really strange dream or something. Then I look around and it just hits me again that it’s real.”

“Ay, pobrecita.” Rosita swept her into a crushing hug, patting her hair in a comforting gesture. “It must be so scary for you, and after all you went through last night…”

“It’s not…” But she couldn’t even finish, the lie sounding obvious even to her. “Okay it was not at all how I had hoped things would go. But it wasn’t all bad. I met you guys, and I got to see Buttons again. And I mean, how many people get to say they flew across the city on the back of a giant crow?”

“Oh, is that her name?” Rosita laughed as she loosened her grip, allowing Nell to straighten again. “She’s flown by a couple of times today. I think she wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Can you let me know if she comes by again?” Nell asked. “We didn’t exactly get to spend much quality time last night. Also, is there a laundry room or something that I can use? Things got a little...messy last night.” That was a good phrase for being thrown around the courtyard of an ancient pyramid and almost dying, right?

“Por supuesto!” She smiled. “It is just downstairs.”

Rosita led her to a small room just off the kitchen, where a drum-like apparatus was set up. This, Nell assumed, was the washing machine. From the looks of it, it would have been considered top-of-the-line somewhere in the nineteen-fifties.

“We finally broke down and got one a few years ago,” Rosita said brightly. “There isn’t as much need to wash things now, but it is so much faster than doing it all by hand.”

“I...have no idea how to use this thing,” Nell admitted, eyeing the machine dubiously. It didn’t have a hose or anything. Did that mean it had to be filled using a bucket?

“It isn’t hard,” Rosita assured her. “I’ll show you! You’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Somehow Nell managed to wash and wring out her clothing without destroying anything. She had thought she was a fairly low-maintenance girl, but she had to admit that she was starting to miss modern technology. Not that there wasn’t a certain charm to hanging clothing on a line to dry, she thought as she made her way out into the little courtyard, laundry basket balanced on her hip. And the result would be the same, even if it took a little longer.

Was all technology in the Land of the Dead like this? From her brief glimpses in the Department of Family Reunions the night before, she thought it might be. It wasn’t as though there wouldn’t be spirits here capable of making more modern pieces, but maybe they just wouldn’t work here? Maybe ‘dead’ applied to more than just the residents. Okay, now she missed her laptop. She needed to find herself a notebook or something just so she could write down all of the questions she had.

As Nell draped her damp clothes over the line to dry, she heard a familiar caw. She glanced up, grinning as she saw the massive crow and the winged jaguar circling each other overhead. With the laundry secured with wooden clothespins, she turned and waved at them. Buttons, seeing the gesture, circled again before descending into the courtyard. The moment she touched down, Nell ran to hug her.

“Hey Buttons.” The alebrije leaned into her caress with a soft caw. Nell smiled. Well, at least one good thing came out of this mess. “Been a crazy couple days, huh? Bet you didn’t expect to find me running around down here for a while yet. Honestly this isn’t where I thought I’d end up either.”

Buttons turned to nibble at the fastenings of her shirt.

“In your honor,” Nell chuckled. “But maybe don’t bite them, eh? I’m just borrowing them. Also, you might choke.”

Buttons gave a questioning squawk.

“I don’t know if alebrije can choke either, but I already lost you once. I’d rather not have to say goodbye again so soon, okay?”

The massive crow squawked again.

“I kept all of the ones you gave me, you know. And Lady’s ribbons, Shell’s shells, Ashes’ candy wrappers. Actually one of my friends taught me how to make a wallet out of them. I don’t suppose they’re here too, are they? I missed them too, so it would be nice to see them again.”

“I don’t know how Pepita would feel about that,” Héctor said, stepping out into the courtyard.

Nell jolted, then turned with a sheepish smile. “Heh...yeah, you’re probably right. They seem to get along pretty well one-on-one, but cats and birds... Is that issue still a thing with alebrije?”

Héctor shrugged. “I think it depends. Pepita and Dante get along reasonably well, but that depends as much on the alebrije's personality as what kind of animal they are.”

Ah. That made sense. “Well...least I have some time to figure out how all of this spirit-world stuff really works.” She could use it in her book when she got back. That was some kind of upside.

For a moment Héctor hesitated, rubbing one hand absently over his forearm. “How are you doing with all this?”

“Fine,” she answered automatically. The look he gave her in response said that he did not believe her for a moment. “Mostly fine. I mean...I’m scared. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how long I can be here. But there isn’t really anything I can do about that right now, so as much as there’s a part of me that is seriously freaking out right now, I can’t let that take over, you know?” If it did she’d just spend the next year as a massive Nell-sized puddle of depression and anxiety. The guilt she felt over the events of the night before already pulled at her, making her wish she could simply shrink away and disappear, but she owed it to Héctor to at least try to explain.

“Look, um… About last night.” Nell sighed, twisting the end of her braid between her fingers. “I’m sorry. What I said...you weren’t supposed to hear that. I didn’t even mean to say it. I panicked and...I only wanted to distract him. Villain Tropes 101, you know? Get them talking and they will give you everything, including time to figure out an escape plan.”

If only it had actually worked out that way.

For a moment Héctor hesitated, scuffing one booted foot absently against the worn cobblestones. “How...how did you know? What he used...”

“I did a lot of research,” she admitted. “I...I mentioned last night that I write graphic novels. My original plan for my newest one...was going to be based on you.” Seeing the look of surprise on his face, she rushed on. “I decided to go in a different direction, scrapped the plot entirely before I even came to Santa Cecilia. But I kept the research.”

"And that’s how you found--” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. He had known the truth of Ernesto’s betrayal for two years, but it was different somehow, knowing now exactly what it was that had killed him.

Nell nodded. “You know they found you. Your body. Your family made sure they brought you home. But they also had an autopsy done. Forensics wasn’t much of a thing back in your day, but it’s amazing what they can find out with modern equipment. Metallic compounds like arsenic can stay in the body for decades.” Or at least, that was what her research told her. She spared a moment to hope absently that nobody intended to go through her browser history any time before she got back. Her research took her down some weird paths sometimes. “They used arsenic for a lot back then, and I started to wonder what he might have used. I figured it was the medication because...well, it was De la Cruz. Someone like him -- musician, arguably decent-looking -- probably wasn’t exactly lacking if he was looking for some company.”

“Well...you’re not wrong,” Héctor said with a bitter smile. Ernesto had never seemed to have trouble finding companionship, and had very often suggested that Héctor find himself a friend for the night -- something that he had vehemently refused every time. “Wait...arguably?” That was a new one.

“Sure,” Nell shrugged. “I mean, he’s not my type at all. I prefer a smaller build and a more genuine, quirky personality. And not murder-y. That cannot be overstated. Give me the sweet and sensitive any day. Anyway, guy like him, I figured he got around, so it wouldn’t have been suspicious for him to have a bottle of some kind of topical medication in his suitcase.” And it hadn’t been uncommon at the time. Rates of arsenic poisoning were shockingly high in the 1920’s, to the point where the compound had become known as ‘inheritance powder’. “And the rest… I’m so sorry, Héctor. I never thought he’d actually… I thought I made it up.” She sighed, leaning back against Buttons and sinking down until she sat on the dusty cobblestones, wrapping her arms around her knees. “He was supposed to get angry, defensive. Deny it.”

“But he didn’t.” The words were spoken so softly they were barely audible.

Her heart broke for him. It was bad enough to know his best friend poisoned him, worse to find out that it had happened more than once, and she’d have given anything to take it all back. “I don’t know if it helps but...I think he was telling the truth when he said that the first time was an accident. It does not excuse at all what he did to you, and to your family. It was completely monstrous and absolutely unforgivable, and I am so, so sorry that you found out this way. You’re a good man and you deserve so much better.”

Caught off guard, he blinked at her, then shook his head with a rueful smile. “I don’t know about that.” Maybe he had been once. He certainly tried to be. Did he deserve to be murdered by his best friend and rejected by his family for ninety years? Of course not. But good men did not steal, or lie, or break promises to the people who cared about them. The rules that most people lived by -- so to speak -- could become a little fuzzy when you are desperate, and he’d been plenty desperate the last couple of decades.

“I do,” Nell said certainly.

“You barely know me.”

“But I know Miguel. He told me everything that happened that night. You spent ninety-five years trying everything in the book to get home to your family. You were about to be forgotten but you still made it your priority to get him home, went on side-quest after side-quest even when you knew you were running out of time. The kid worships you. You’re like an awesome combination of best friend, big brother, and father-figure. He’s spent hours talking to me about his Amazing Papá Héctor.” Nell smiled fondly, thinking back on the stories Miguel had told her. “He lights up like a sky full of fireworks any time he hears your name.”

If skeletons could blush, Héctor would have been red to the roots of his hair.

“Anyway,” Nell continued, looking away sheepishly. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for everything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well it's been an intense night. Everyone has had a lot to deal with, and it's not just the dead Riveras who have had to deal with it.

The adventure is fall from over. Join us next week for more A Year in the Life!

#coco #pixar coco #coco fanfiction #miguel rivera #hector rivera #imelda rivera #rosita rivera #enrique rivera #a year in the life #fanfiction #disney fanfiction

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yujachachacha · 7 years

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I've seen peeps angry about how Dia's episode this season and Yoshiko's last season seem to mean nothing since they're still calling them "Dia-san" and "Yoshiko" respectively. What do you think? bc I personally feel that the point of the episodes had less to do with how they were addressed and more w/ a feeling of belonging in the group

I agree! I think that the issue with these character-centered episodes has to do with the fact that the audience is misunderstanding the point of them.

This might be easier to understand if I first explain how they’re structured. IMO, the LLS character-centered episodes usually follow a certain formula that goes something like this:

The central character has a certain flaw or worry that makes them go through a period of self-doubt. (Examples: Yoshiko wants to live a normal high school life. Dia notices that she’s the only third year in Aqours who isn’t referred to by a familiar suffix.)

The central character believes that they have to act a certain way to resolve this issue. (Examples: Yoshiko thinks that she has to abandon her “fallen angel” routine to be accepted by her peers. Dia thinks that being called “Dia-chan” will make her closer to the rest of the group.)

With the help of Chika - or in the case of Chika herself, the others in Aqours - the central character realizes that there is another solution they didn’t consider because they had misunderstood the root of the problem. (Examples: Yoshiko realizes that she should find friends who accept her as she is rather than trying to change herself. Dia discovers that her title is given to her out of respect rather than distance.)

The problem is resolved and the central character regains their confidence. Hooray, friendship saves the day! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

See that bold section in #3? That’s the part that a lot of people miss - ironically, this means that these people are making the exact same mistake that the main character of the episode is making.

[FML my meta posts are never short so the rest is under the cut]

The point of S1E5 wasn’t that Yoshiko wanted friends who would call her “Yohane”, but that Yoshiko wanted friends who would put up with her demands to be called “Yohane”. This is even apparent at the final confrontation of the episode:

Yoshiko: I’ll spew a lot of weird stuff.

You: That’s fine.

Yoshiko: I might start performing ceremonies and stuff sometimes.

Riko: We’ll deal with it.

Yoshiko: I might tell you to be my little demons!

Chika: Well, um… We’ll say no if we don’t want to!

Let me repeat that last part because it’s hella important: “We’ll say no if we don’t want to!”

What Yoshiko needed wasn’t a group of girls who would hang out with her only because she got rid of her fallen angel routine, or little demon lackeys who would obey every edict she issued. What she needed was friends who would be realistic about her antics, but would stick with her until the end. Friendship isn’t about agreeing perfectly with each other - you’ll have different tastes, and will sometimes fight over those differences. True friendship is being able to accept each other despite these differences.

You might have noticed that it’s not Mari and Ruby, the pair that tends to play along with the “Yohane” thing the most, who are seen as Yoshiko’s closest friends in the anime. The pair that is the most associated with Yoshiko is, in fact, the duo that complains the most about Yoshiko’s behavior - Riko and Hanamaru. They tease and scold her about her quirks precisely because they’re so close to her. It’s because these two are so attentive to Yoshiko’s well-being that they moderate her weirdness. Thanks to their friendship, Yoshiko knows that despite their occasional harsh words, they mean the best for her.

So with this in mind, is it really all that crucial to refer to Yoshiko as “Yohane”? While it would be nice of Aqours to do so, I think that would be missing the point. Accepting “Yohane” doesn’t mean accepting that as Yoshiko’s name. Rather, it’s accepting the concept of Yohane, that Yoshiko happens to be a high school girl who occasionally says some off-the-wall occult things that she can’t help because she loves the fallen angel thing and oh god she knows it’s weird but at this point it’s so ingrained in her identity that there’s nothing she can do about it please all she wants is to stop feeling so lonely -

…you get the point. The important thing isn’t calling Yoshiko by her preferred name “Yohane”, but that the existence of “Yohane” is accepted rather than shunned. Yoshiko had been so caught up in thinking that the “Yohane” persona was a black-or-white “if it pops up I’ll lose my friends / if I hide it I can have a normal life” situation that she never stopped to consider a balance between the two: friends who didn’t necessarily have to indulge her fallen angel antics, but would always support her in times of need.

Fittingly for a series called “Love Live!”, an important theme of the work is about love - that is, self-love, and giving your all at something you love to do. The charm of school idols, Chika insists to Yoshiko, isn’t that they change themselves into whatever they think is popular or that the audience likes best. Rather, it’s the fact that they have a part of themselves that they love, and are happy to share that with everyone.

Consider this - do Yoshiko fans like Yoshiko despite her fallen angel shtick, or do they like her because she throws herself so wholeheartedly into it? I’m sure you can guess the answer by now. We admire people who are passionate about what they love. Chika’s words make Yoshiko realize that “Yohane” isn’t something to be ashamed of - rather, it’s something that she should embrace.

Again, this is a crucial lesson echoed throughout the “Love Live!” series: embrace the time you have now, and put everything you have into something you love. That’s when you truly shine, because there’s nothing more beautiful than someone who’s doing their best and enjoying it.

With Dia, we have a similar theme of friendship being tied to a certain name. However, the circumstances are quite different.

Now, I can understand why people were a bit upset about Dia’s episode turning out the way that it did. After all, Dia spent nearly the whole time making a fool of herself just to hear Chika tell her, “We like you just the way you are, Dia-san!” µ’s even had an entire episode dedicated to having the members address each other with “-chan” to break down the seniority barriers.

But let me point out something important: Dia refers to Kanan and Mari, her childhood friends, as “Kanan-san” and “Mari-san”. Do you think that this means Dia isn’t close to Kanan and Mari?

Recall the scene where Kanan and Mari spill the beans about Dia to the rest of Aqours. They talk about how they’ve always seen Dia as somewhat “above them” because of how talented and formal she is. With everyone expecting Dia to act the part of the refined lady, Dia slowly took on that role until it became an actual part of her identity. If Dia was just a normal high school gal, she’d probably refer to Kanan and Mari as just that - Kanan and Mari, no suffixes needed. But because Dia’s been raised to be well-mannered, she automatically refers to them as “Kanan-san” and “Mari-san” despite her close relationship with them.

This shows that Dia’s way of referring to people is simply a matter of her upbringing as a Kurosawa heiress rather than her trying to distance herself from others. If you need more proof, just listen to how Ruby refers to other people in the early episodes of the anime and in the audio dramas - apart from her sister and her childhood friend Hanamaru, Ruby refers to nearly everyone with “-san”. Ruby has the same habit, but is a lot more lenient about casting it aside as she probably doesn’t feel as pressured as Dia is to stay prim and proper. That’s why the spotlight is solely on Dia for being out-of-place about how she refers to and is referred to by others.

Here’s the mini-takeaway from this episode - what’s important is not the words itself, but the meaning behind them. I’m gonna illustrate this with two different takes of a scenario. Imagine that Aqours is chilling in a dressing room, waiting to be called for their performance in a school idol competition.

Take 1:

Mari bursts into the room holding a venti Starbucks latte in one hand and a set of very expensive-looking car keys in the other.

“What’s up, bitches?” Mari sings.

Chika and You cheekily salute and parrot back the greeting. Everyone else ignores her (except Dia, who looks like she would be strangling Mari if she wasn’t occupied with covering Ruby’s ears).

Kanan sighs. “We love you Mari, but get your ass in here. You’re late.”

Take 2:

A rival school idol group that has been sending condescending looks towards Aqours all day bursts into the room.

“What’s up, bitches?” Girl A sneers.

Since Dia is too busy covering Ruby’s ears, Kanan is the first to rise up in anger. However, she’s interrupted by the sight of Mari popping open the lid of her latte and splashing its still-hot contents at the intruders.

“Don’t you dare speak that way towards my friends,” Mari hisses.

…this illustration was probably a lot more vulgar than it needed to be, but hopefully you get my point. It doesn’t matter that Dia is referred to as “Dia-san” - what’s crucial is the intent behind it. Chika brings back the lesson from Yoshiko’s episode here: you shouldn’t try to change yourself just to make friends. Aqours doesn’t hate her strictness, so there’s no need for Dia to try to do away with it. Dia is referred to as “Dia-san” because everyone respects how much work she puts into making sure Aqours isn’t a complete mess, and thus they refer to her with an appropriately respectful title. In a way, it’s actually a very affectionate title that shows Dia’s unique position in Aqours - you could even think of it as the equivalent of “Mom”.

If you’re still thinking, “Oh come on, how hard is it to just call her ‘Dia-chan’?!”, let me illustrate with something that’s actually happened to me. At Thanksgiving this year, I met a family member who’s around my mother’s age. She’s a distant relative of mine, but because we live in the same area, we’re pretty close. I was helping her with the dishes when we had the following conversation:

Relative: Hey Yujacha, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.

Me: What is it?

Relative: You know how you call me “Aunty”? I want you to call me “Grandma” instead.

Me: …I’m sorry, what?

Relative: I want you to call me “Grandma”. I’m serious. I really, really, really want you to call me “Grandma”.

Me: I, uh…

Relative: Call me “Grandma”!

To give you some context: my family tree is kind of messed up (I think it had to do with some kind of early/late marriage), so somewhere along the line the branch with my relatives became a generation above mine, despite us being the same age. This means that the relative above is technically a grandmother to me despite being around my mother’s age, and her children (who I usually refer to as my cousins) are technically my aunt and uncle - even though they’re younger than me.

I could’ve said yes. It was a request from an elder, and she genuinely wanted me to use the title. Plus, what harm was there in simply saying a different name?

Instead, I replied, “…I’m sorry Aunty, I can’t. It sounds weird to me. ( ; w ; )”

I was so used to saying “Aunty” that I couldn’t break the habit. It was also a matter of respect - even though the relative herself wanted to be called “Grandma”, in my mind, I would be lowkey insulting her by implying that she looks a lot older than she actually is.

I could be completely off the mark here, but personally speaking, I think that this might be part of the reason why Dia is always referred to as “Dia-san” by most of Aqours. As stated above, Dia is revered as the Kurosawa heiress and the brilliant student council president of Uranohoshi. Even though Dia herself wants to be called “Dia-chan”, to the rest of Aqours, it would feel like an insult if they didn’t refer to her respectfully. At that point, they’re just so used to calling her “Dia-san” that it would feel weird to say anything else. Communication is a two-way street. Don’t forget that a title shows a relationship between the receiver and the giver of the title.

I know that some people are still going to be upset about the “Dia-chan” thing, which is fine - Dia deserves the love! But the point of the episode, despite what it seemed, wasn’t just to get Aqours to call Dia something different. Rather, it was Dia’s clumsy way of opening herself up to the others and admitting that she wants to be their close friend. While the lesson might not have been so clear due to all the slapstick shenanigans going on, I think that we did see Dia succeeding on that end. No matter what she’s called, from now on, Dia knows that she’s appreciated by Aqours and is considered a close friend.

tl;dr: Chuunibyou high schooler and stern StuCo prez awkwardly try to make friends, and learn that friendship extends beyond appearances and titles. What needs to change isn’t their behavior - it’s the way they think about their behavior. By casting aside their self-doubt, they can begin to love themselves as they are, and renew their confidence as the school idols of Aqours.

While we’re on the subject - I’m sure that with this talk of controversial character episodes, you might be wondering why I’m not bringing up the two most controversial episodes, i.e. S1E9 (the KanaMari episode) and S1E11 (the You/ChikaYou episode).

I think a lot of meta writers who are a heck of a lot more talented than I am have already covered Episode 9, so I don’t really feel the need to bring it up. At this point, there have been enough rallying cries from the “Kanan Protection Squad” that most people should be a bit more forgiving of Kanan’s actions. As irrational as they were, you have to also consider that Kanan was just a fifteen-year-old girl under a lot of stress and self-inflicted guilt. There’s also the factor of miscommunication, and…well, again, this has already been analyzed, so I won’t dive into this one.

As for Episode 11, I actually received an ask about it, so I’ll be sitting down and thinking about how to answer that one! I’ve already got a couple of ideas in mind…

#love live! sunshine!!#love live sunshine #kurosawa dia #tsushima yoshiko #lls spoilers #analysis #my ramblings #yujachask #anonymous #queuetie panther #i'll admit that part of the reason i'm saving youchan for a separate post is my bias #because i am probably capable of writing an entire thesis about her lol #but i really did get a separate ask about ep11 #and ep11 has some additional factors that make the meta more complicated #god this got really long because i analyzed 2 character episodes in a single post #(scarily enough im sure that my thoughts on ep11 alone are even longer)#(...i'll do my best to edit it down;;)

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samiesan · 7 years

Text

The Sun will Rise

Draecember Writing Prompt #11 - Interacting with a member of the Horde

It was the first time in a very, very long time that Tuilaa had felt the wind. There was always the general breeze in the Exodar, some storm off the coast that happened to find it’s way down the crystalline ramp, or just the odd breeze in general from some of the shaman that were practicing communicating with the element. But none of them could compare to what she was feeling right now. This was a wind that meant a whole lot more. The skies above the Eastern Plaguelands was it’s usual gloom, the murky brown colour that seemed to pollute the air hung like a well forgotten blanket. Despite the air having a stale smell to it, Tuilaa breathed in deeply, to her it was heavenly. But as the wind caressed her cheek and brushed her hair from her shoulders, it did remind her that it was that time of year where it was becoming a little chilly. Pulling her cloak closer around her arms the young priestess urged her talbuk forward, the sooner she could get to Light’s Hope, the sooner she could cozy up to a warm fire and a warm cup of something good. “Or, I can take that portal that’s near the one to Netherlight portal!” Varistus frowned, he seemed a little confused. “A portal?” Tuilaa nodded feverishly as she clutched his letter to her chest. She had received said letter a couple of days ago and decided to question the Harbinger about the details. A few members said he was in his office, at least the one that was dedicated to him since the Orders move to the mage city. ‘Yes, the one in the Greyfang Enclave, the one that I’ve seen tons of respectable paladins use to come in and out of Dalaran. I’m pretty sure it leads to Light’s Hope, it would make the trip a lot more easier and less time consuming.” Varistus rapped his pen against the paper work, his other hand propping up his cheek as he thought about it. There was a small dawning on his face when Tuilaa explained where it was, a small look of deliberation, then conclusion as he cleared his throat and sat up proper. “No, it would be good for you and this trial if you headed directed to the chapel proper though the Plaguelands.” His tone was final and he even gave her a small nod as in “thank you, you can go now”. But something in Tuilaa wanted to debate it, though she wasn’t one to question authority, especially not a member of the Triumvirate. But, in that moment she opened her mouth and took that small assertive step forward, that’s when things became tense. She could tell by the way the Harbingers eyes darted up from his paper work, the way his arm twitched as though he was about to reach for something and decided against it last minute. Tuilaa swallowed hard as she stopped herself short from saying or doing something further. Her being here and her being allowed to take these trials was a test in itself, even now as to quote the Harbinger ‘She was being watched closely’. “As you wish Harbinger.” her words here meek and soft, as she wanted to dilute whatever threat she was posing to him, before turning on hoof and preparing for her journey. The memory played like a unrehearsed play, disjointed and fuzzy, but it was enough to distract her from the soft crunching sound her talbuks hooves made against the dirt road. Tuilaa pulled her cloak closer around her arms as her other hand tightened around the reigns. The bite of the leather straps in her hands was enough to bring her back to this reality and as she raised her head she realized that she was that much closer to the chapel. “Your admittance into my Path, and the Order as a whole, will be watched closely.” Tuilaa reached into her pack, her hand tightening around the letter and something else, something that the Grand Anchorites of the Netherlight Temple gifted her. It would be enough, they said in confidence, this and the holy light of the chapel and the paladins that lived there, plus her own strength. She had confidence over the Light and the paladins that resided at the chapel, but as for her own strength, that was something left to be desired. As long as she had the trinket close, she would be fine. The talbuk stopped and Tuilaa looked upon the arch made of wood and stone that was the threshold into Light's Hope. She took another deep breath of the stale air, steeling herself, as she urged the talbuk onward. ---- The grounds of the Chapel were surprisingly lush and green, the air smelled crisp and fresh, not the musky and stale air that was just outside the gates. It was the difference between night and day, the power of the light and purification and the infestation that was plaguing this land. Slowly, Tuilaa dismounted her talbuk as she took in the sights, squires and knights all wearing tabards from the Argent Crusade milled about the grounds, going about their business. Some took a moment from their day to see the new face that appeared, but continued on nonetheless. Taken by surprise, a young boy ran up to her, grabbing the reigns of her mount. Tuilaa was confused for a second, while she understood common, when it was hastily said to her she couldn’t quite understand it. The boy rolled his eyes and explained slowly that he wanted to stable her mount with the rest of them. Tuilaa apologized, took what she needed from the saddle bags and waved goodbye to her talbuk for the time being. She was surprised the boy wasn’t in more awe at the beast, but considering he’s probably seen the likes of Elekk, Hawkstriders and Kodo, a talbuk was probably a walk in the park. The Chapel itself was a little underwhelming, but she had been told that nothing was as it seemed. Making her way up the hill and into the little building she was met with an unfamiliar Vindicator who seemed to know who she was. “Tuilaa?” he asked, his voice a low rumble as she nodded her answer to him. With a gentle hand on her back he ushered her just a few steps forward before stopping her. The floor before the dias slowly opened up, revealing a staircase that lead down. The Vindicator nodded his head towards the opening as he made his way down the stairs, swallowing hard, Tuilaa followed soon after. Down the winding steps, their hooves echoing against the stone walls, the two draenei soon came upon the meeting area of the Sanctum of the Light. Paladins of every walk of life where here, from the familiar crystalline armor of the draenei paladins, to the crimson and black armor of the Blood Knights and the iron and gold armor of the human paladins. Much like it was up above, a few of them paid attention to her and the Vindicator, but most of them went about their own business. Placing a hand on her shoulder, the Vindicator pointed her down the hall. “There,” he said, pointing to a space to the right. “The Harbinger told you to talk to the Sunwalkers, they meet there.” Tuilaa nodded nervously as the Vindicator patted her shoulder before wandering off to continue his business. Reaching into her bag, she took out the letter and the trinket, holding it close to her chest. Taking a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks and exhaling slowly, the priestess slowly made her way past the sea of plate wearers towards the small enclave reserved for the aforementioned tauren. And boy, were they a sight to be seen. The Tauren and the Draenei weren’t that different, physically, both had horns, hooves, tails and stood almost a few head taller than their allies. Though one was blue and came from outer space and the other was bovine in appearance. Also, either one of them came from a vastly different side of the battle field. There was a lone tauren sitting in the enclave as Tuilaa discovered as she approached. He was a fairly large tauren at that, as he sat on the little stool using a whetstone to sharpen his axe. His nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply, though he seemed to be humming a rather catchy tune. As Tuilaa knocked on the pillar beside her, she watched as his ear turned towards the source of the sound, with his large head quickly following. Brown eyes looked at the petite draenei for a moment before offering a smile as he put down the axe and whetstone. “Ah! You must be Tuilaa, I’ve been expecting you.” if she thought the Vindicator had a low, growly voice, then she was unprepared for what the Sunwalker sounded like. If she had to describe it to someone, she would have had to use the words ‘deep earth’. He motioned for her to join him, gesturing to an empty stool that sat in the corner. Tuilaa bowed, scurrying over to grab said stool and sat down dainty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Tuilaa, I’m Dahko Springwalker, Sunwalker of Thunder Bluff.” his common was just about as good as hers, though she suspected he learned most of it being here. She felt a little bad that she didn’t know any Orcish, as to make it easier for him to speak something he was familiar with. Dahko held out his massive hand, his three fingers open and expectant and Tuilaa automatically knew what he was trying to do, as she put her tiny hand in his as they shook. “Varistus is an old friend of mine, we met when he was traveling about, before his days of joining your order. When he told me he wanted to meet someone special, I wasn’t expecting a young thing like you.” Dahko’s voice was full of nostalgia as he talked about the Harbinger before turning the conversation back to her. “I’m only in my early hundreds sir.” she blushed, shrugging her shoulders as if the number was nothing. Dahko though looked shocked, confused, then acceptance as he shrugged his shoulders. He’d been around elves enough to know that appearance didn’t mean much when you were near immortal and apparently the rule applied to these draenei as well. “So, what can I do for you today?” Tuilaa gave him the letter, then promptly took it back since it was written in eredun, so she read it to him. Dahko let out a low rumble of thought as he scratched his chin and brushed the long braided beard that hung down, this went on for about as long as it took for her to read the letter and the ensuing silence afterwards, before the tauren spoke again. “Odd that one such as yourself priestess, cannot see the balance of the Light.” the comment wasn’t an accusation of any kind, though Tuilaa felt a little ashamed. “It’s not that sir… it’s..” there was no easy way of telling him the history that she had, the horrors that she witnessed and then, herself, committed and the path of redemption that she was trying to achieve. She clutched the trinket tighter, trying to find strength in it’s warmth. “The dawn will come…” Tuilaa looked up at Dahko, confused at the taurens words as she looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “When Aponi Brightmane and Tahu Sagewind met, they discussed what the true meaning of balance ment to the tauren people.” Dahko began. “Our people worship not only the Earthmother, but both An’she and Mu’sha; The Sun and the Moon, the eyes of the Earthmother herself. But, as they discovered with the Kaldorei’s exclusive worship of Mu’sha, or Elune if you may, and their ties to us through the sacred practice of Druidism. Unbeknownst to them and to us, have passed down their prejudice of An’she to our students and thus could not appreciate the balance that the Earthmother gave us.” the tauren paused again to look upon the younger draenei in his presence. Tuilaa stared at him, completely absorbed in everything that he was saying. He had to chuckle to himself, never in his life would he be this interesting to a being that was said to be favoured by the Light and the Naaru themselves. Clearing his throat, he continued. “Thus they strove for balance, to revere An’she as much as the Kaldorei revered their Elune. Aponi and Tahu revived the ancient practices of the Tauren people and thus the Sunwalkers and Seers emerged. Because and to quote Chief Brightmane: "It's always darkest before the dawn. The dawn will come, the sun will rise and the balance will shift back to where it should be."” Dahko reached over and touched her hands, the ones that clutched onto the trinket so tightly. “Your people revere the Light so much, that I find that you forget that even your Naaru has shown you that there is balance. From the Light comes Darkness and thus the-” “- sun will rise…” Tuilaa looked down at the large three fingered hand of the Tauren after she whispered those three words. “A-after Auchindoun… after the explosion, after ever-” she shut her eyes as tears began to trickle down her face. Tuilaa bowed her head as she removed one of her hands to hide herself from the taurens soft gaze. “The Void and the Light are no different than Mu’sha and An’she young anchorite.” he whispered kindly. “From what I can gather from those that were willing to talk about, your people once held the same semblance of balance too. It is a shame what transpired, but much like my people, the draenei are strong, you persevere against all odds. But, you have forgotten the balance.” he lifted her chin and smiled at her. “From the Light comes the Darkness and from the Darkness emerges the Light, they are one in the same and equals in every right.” brushing aside the tears, Tuilaa offered a smile back. “A lesson from the Auchenai, back in the day.” she brushed a stray piece of white hair, back behind her ear as she sniffed. “Sounds very familiar.” Dahko chuckled, removing his hand and leaning back in his seat. Tuilaa offered a small smile back, that was, before she remembered something. Reaching back down in her pack, she nearly forgot the other mission that she was sent to do. The First Archon told her, as she left the Harbingers office that day, not to let Varistus know about this, but if Tuilaa was meeting with some tauren… “Here!” she held out a small, childs necklace towards the Sunwalker. “One of our Triumvirate found this one day and has been meaning to give it back to you, or at least, to someone who might know who the owner is.” Dahko took the necklace in hand and frowned, there was no way of knowing who it belonged to at this point and he hadn’t heard word of anyone losing it recently. Shaking his massive head, he took her hand and placed it back in her palm. “Though it’s probably not mine to give, let this be a token of the lessons we have learned today and as a symbol of our new found friendship Tuilaa.” She didn’t know what to say, this was unexpected and she felt so unprepared despite the suddenness of it all. Placing the necklace quickly on her lap, she took the trinket she so desperately clung to and returned the favour, placing it into Dahko’s hand. “This is an essence of a naaru, specifically Saa’ra, the Naaru saved in Netherlight Temple. I was given this as a token of… strength. But… “she smiled. “... I think I can find my own balance now.” Dahko looked as surprised as Tuilaa was when she received the necklace, but he bowed, holding the trinket close to his chest. “I am honoured to receive such a gift young priestess.” he stood up, helping her off her stool as well and Tuilaa was unprepared on how huge Dahko really was. He surely made the Harbinger looked human sized. The two bowed at each other as Dahko followed Tuilaa to the portal that lead to Dalaran. “Here, I’ll give you special permission to use those to get back to your Order. It’s probably a lot easier than getting a gryphon back.” “Less saddle sores.” she chuckled. “I’ll send word to Varistus that we talked young Tuilaa, until then, may An’she guide you.” “The Naaru’s blessings be upon you, Dahko.” one last bow of thanks and Tuilaa stepped through the portal back to Dalaran. The air tasted of magic and incense, the city was thrumming of people going about their business and for the first time in a while, Tuilaa didn't feel overwhelmed. She gave the tauren necklace one last look, before fastening it around her neck. Taking a deep breath, she ventured to the Sha’tor offices to talk to the Harbinger himself.

#draecember2017 #writing #Tuilaa #draenei

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rainbowserenity · 7 years

Note

"I'd ask you to stay, but I don't like you" for hoperai, please? ✨

royal!AU tag

Back when she’d been in the Corps, struggling to survive,Lightning had never really given much thought to history or relationswith other kingdoms. Not only was that the old royal family’sbusiness to worry about, but it was Serah’s department as a futureteacher.

Now, Lightning wished that she could take a slice of thatknowledge, just on the off chance it would get Sazh off her back.

“Seriously, have you even looked at those documents I’vebeen givin’ you? At all? Even just a stern glance?”

“I’ve been busy,” Lightning muttered, which wasn’t too farfrom the truth - she’d just been busy avoiding any thought ofdiplomatic relations at her introduction ball. She hadn’t been thecrown princess of the kingdom of Eden for too long and had mostlyavoided the public eye. This ball would be her firstreal moment in the spotlight.

Which was why she was busy being terrified.

It was a weird feeling. Lightning didn’t get scared of anything.She hadn’t really allowed herself ever since her parents haddied and she had to be there for Serah. Being in the Guardian Corpsfor years had toughened her up into a real solider - not aprincess.

And yet, here she was, the long-lost member of the royal familywho was to instill relations with other kingdoms that had long beenignored.

All of the etiquette lessons in the world couldn’tprepare her for this.

She was so lost in thought that she barely realized that Sazh hadbeen rambling this entire time. It was rude, she realized…but thenagain, it’d been Sazh who’d come to the conclusion that therewere members of the royal family still in existence. If he hadn’tperused the family tree and found out all the hundreds of directionsit’d gone in over the centuries, he never would have found her andSerah.

Yeah, she could absolutely blame him for all of this.

“ - and truth be told, the Patron of Yusnaan’s fal’cieprovides a lot of the food, so even though he’s just a kid - hey!Are you listening?!”

“No,” Lightning admitted. “I’ll look over the stupidpaperwork. Can I do it without you talking to me?”

Sazh pretended to look hurt, though it was clearly anexaggeration. “What, don’t want my help now?”

“Not really. I’d ask you to stay, but I don’t like you.”

This time, he let out a bark of laughter and patted Lightning’sshoulder - a breach of etiquette for most people, but he could getaway with it since he was the royal advisor. Unfortunately for her,he was actually pretty good at the job, so she couldn’t get rid ofhim.

Oh, who the hell was she kidding? It was because of him that she’dyet to make a fool of herself. And he wasn’t that annoying…mostof the time.

Still, that didn’t mean she wanted him around constantly.

“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to it.”

Lightning raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, princess.” Sazh grinned and she rolled her eyes.“Just don’t go leavin’ the room. I don’t know if security’sswept the palace.”

“Right.” At least it wouldn’t be too bad to be stuck in here –she was in one of the many ‘sitting rooms’ in the palace, but Sazhhad hinted that it could become her office if she wished. The oldqueen’s office was on a different floor, but the view here was muchnicer. People could move things around and decorate it to her likingas soon as she gave the word.

It was still such a strange thought, to have nearly anything shedesired at the snap of a finger after years of struggling to survive.

When she heard the door open a few minutes later, she assumed itwas Sazh and said without looking up from the papers in front of her,“I thought you said you’d 'leave me to it.'”

There was a quiet chuckle that sounded entirely unlike Sazh.“I’m afraid I said no such thing, Your Highness.”

Lightning looked up sharply,ignoring how her face seemed to instantly grow warm at the sight ofHope, her…personal bodyguard.

And that’s all he is – just your bodyguard!

She cleared her throat. “To what do Iowe the pleasure?” After a pause, she slumped back in her chair ina decidedly un-princesslike fashion. “Don’t tell me. Sazh sentyou.”

“More or less.” Hope had his handsbehind his back in his usual professional stance, but he was shiftinga bit, almost like he was nervous. “I can leave if you’d like, Your– Light. I know you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself.”

She couldn’t help the tiny smile thatquirked the ends of her lips. Ever since they’d met, she’d beeninsisting that he call her by her nickname, and though he usuallydidn’t remember until the last second, it was nice that he was tryingto honor the request.

Plus, it just felt…wrong, somehow,for him to call her by her title.

Not that she wanted to think about why.

“You can stay,” she finally said,realizing he was waiting for an answer. She said up a littlestraighter, instantly correcting her posture. “In fact, maybe youcan help me.”

“Gladly.” He crossed the room, andafter a little nod from her, sat down in a seat next to hers. “Whatcan I assist you with?”

“I’m supposed to learning more aboutall of these other kingdoms, these rulers, their fal'cie…”Lightning heaved a sigh. “I didn’t give much thought to any of thisback when I was a…commoner, I guess.”

“I don’t see how you couldever be common.”

She looked up at him again, her eyeswidening ever-so-slightly when she saw the splotches of color on hischeeks and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d meant to say that.

And what it meant.

There was a long pause that quicklyturned awkward, but she simply cleared her throat and pushed through.Every lesson she’d had on dealing with others, with the press, withwhoever, insisted that she didn’t linger on silences. Don’t give themthought and everyone would follow your lead.

“Um, yes.” Brilliant, Farron.“They’re all just sort of…blurring together in my mind. Ithink it’s starting to overload with everything elseeveryone’s been telling me.”

Hope smiled and the awkwardness faded.“I can imagine.” He gestured to the papers. “May I?”

“Be my guest.”

He picked a few up and scanned themquickly – a little too quickly for someone who was simplysupposed to be a bodyguard, though maybe he simply read fast. He wasfrom Palumpolum – that area had some of the best education in theworld.

Not that she’d tucked away that littletidbit of info for any reason, really.

“I’ve met some of these leaders,”Hope finally said carefully. “Or…at least in a professionalcapacity.”

This was surprising. “You have?”

“Yes. I don’t know them that well,”he added hurriedly, “but maybe if the details were a little more, Idon’t know…personal, you could remember this a bit easier?”

“Sounds reasonable to me.” A pause.“…How do you know them? If you don’t mind my asking,” she addedhastily.

Hope seemed to weigh his response, butfinally replied with a little smile, “You’re not the first royalI’ve had the pleasure of guarding.”

“Really.” Maybe that was how he’dgotten the job. She, the kingdom of Eden’s long-lost princess, woulddefinitely need a bodyguard that knew what they were doing.

Then again, it wasn’t as though she’dhad any say in the matter – she hadn’t even known she wasgetting a bodyguard until Hope had announced himself all that timeago.

“Yes.” His smile grew a bit wider,like he was testing how far he could go with it. “I have to say,you’re…definitely different.”

“In what way?”

There was a moment of hesitance.Lightning wondered too late if those words had been an insult and nowhe was trying to soften the blow, but to her relief, he chuckled. “Ina good way, I promise. After all, none of them have ever asked me tohelp with…” He gestured his hand over the papers. “Any sort ofroyal task.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Ihaven’t had much practice in being royal,” Lightning grumbled. “IfI knew what I was doing, I wouldn’t bother asking.”

“Fair enough.” Hope seemed faintlyamused at that, but he quickly hid it and glanced down at one of thepapers. “The guest here I’m most familiar with is the duchess ofLuxerion.”

“Luxerion…” she muttered toherself. All that was coming to mind was a kingdom so far north thattheir claim to fame was that they usually shrouded in darkness.Because of this, they used a great deal of artificial lights thatrarely went out and was sometimes ironically called 'the city oflight.’ She’d never given the place any thought until now. “Theirfal'cie…it creates metal and precious stones, right? It’s their main sourceof export.”

“Correct,” Hope replied, andLightning nearly rolled her eyes at his cheeky smile. “The duchessis called Dia Vanille, though she prefers to go by Vanille in asocial capacity.”

“Would this ball I’m being forced tohave count as 'social capacity’? Despite the fact that I’m supposedto be making relations?”

“Really?” He looked up at her witha frown. “That’s what they want you to do?”

“Yes. I guess it makes sense.” Sheshrugged with one shoulder, idly looking away and smoothing out thefolds of the dress she was wearing. “New princess and all. They allprobably want to get a good look at me and take bets on how quicklyI’ll screw this all up.”

There was a long pause – so long, infact, that Lightning thought that Hope might have somehow left theroom, but to her utter shock, he slowly moved so that he was kneelingin front of her and lightly grasped her hand. Her fingers seemed toautomatically curl around his, seeking the instant security he seemedto give her.

“Light,” he said after a beat, andshe inwardly smiled, knowing he’d had to stop himself from using hertitle. “You’re right that you’re new at this, but from what I’veseen, you don’t have a thing to worry about.”

Her heart was pounding, though whetherit was from his words, the sincerity in his gaze as he looked up ather, or their hands clasped together, she didn’t know. “…Really?”

“Yes.” He gently squeezed her hand,hesitating again before he continued. “The kingdom of Eden,it’s…it’s rather divided. It might be the largest in the world, butthere are many who aren’t happy with how things have been run in thepast.”

“I know,” she replied. And she did– Eden’s fal'cie was Phoenix, the glorious bearer of the sun.Clearly without it, they would all be doomed.

But she knew firsthand how, in thepast, the old members of the royal family abused this. Instead ofusing their immense power to help everyone, their assistance seemedto be limited. Before she’d gotten the job with the Guardian Corpsafter her parents had died, Lightning could all too easily recallliving in a shelter with Serah near the slums. Luckily, she’d beenable to get out of there.

What about those who couldn’t?

“Exactly,” Hope said at hercontemplative silence. For some reason, there was a sad look on hisface, but it passed by in the next instant. “You’ve seen bothsides. And now you can use that. You can be the greatest rulerEden has ever seen.”

Even though her instinct was to brushthe words off, Lightning was honestly stunned into silence. The lookin his eyes said it all – he actually meant it. To havesomeone other than family, like Serah, or someone who’d been theresince the beginning, like Sazh, actively believe that shecould truly do this, was…

Indescribable.

She had no idea when it’d happened, butHope had slowly risen from his knelt position to lean in closer toher. Their hands were still linked and he braced his free one on thearmrest, moving in closer…so close. Her eyes flutteredclosed and she could feel his breath trembling in anticipation…

Or was that hers…?

“Princess!”

There was a sharp knock at the doorthat woke them both up out of this…this stupor. Hope gaspedand scrambled to his feet, almost knocking over a table in his haste.He stared at her with wide eyes, his face as pale as his silveryhair.

“Princess! You still in there?”

Lightning tried to calm her breathingas she stared right back, vaguely recognizing the voice as Sazh. Herattempt at calming herself felt like it was in vain, since her voicetrembled when she replied, “Y-Yes, I’m in here.”

Hope seemed to remember himself at thatsecond and scurried across the room to open the door. Sazh didn’tseem all that surprised, at least.

“Ah, knew you’d be in here, Hope. Arehelping her out?”

“Y-Yes.” Hope’s voice was shakingtoo, though luckily, Sazh still didn’t seem to notice. “We werejust…ah - ”

“Discussing the fal'cie,” Lightninginterrupted smoothly. She straightened her posture, hoping that mightget her back into some semblance of normalcy. Well, if all of thiscould actually be considered normal. “I mean, if I’msupposed to be discussing relations…”

“Exactly.” Hope nodded. “I wasjust telling her that the duchess Dia Vanille is very friendly,though her family had never been previously on good terms with Eden.Maybe we can change that.”

Sazh sighed heavily. “I sure hopeso.” He glanced at Lightning. “Sorry to interrupt, but thatseamstress is back to get you all fitted for that gown.”

Lightning frowned. “I thought theyalready had my measurements.”

“Do I look like a seamstress? How amI supposed to know what else they want?”

“Fine.” She sighed, intending tofollow Sazh, but she couldn’t just..leave things like this. Couldshe? “…Sazh, can you give Hope and I a moment?”

He quirked a brow – what, was she notsupposed to call her bodyguard by his first name? - but actuallynodded in agreement. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“As though you’d let me.”

He snorted in amusement, pointing athis wrist – not that there was a watch there – as he left theroom. Right. She needed to keep this brief.

But what the hell was shesupposed to say?

“I…”

“I apologize.” Hope had his handsbehind his back, all business. “That was…it was – I – thatwas highly inappropriate of me,” he finally managed to say.

“…Oh.” On one hand, it was hardto disagree with that, especially from a professional standpoint, butat the same time…

“We can just forget it everhappened.” He wasn’t quite looking at her. “It might be best forthe both of us.”

“Oh,” Lightning echoed. What wasthe matter with her? She’d never felt so…tongue-tied aroundanyone before.

Hope nodded, like her answer wascompletely appropriate and expected, and bowed at the waist. “I’llleave you to your duties, then.”

Duties. Like gettingfitted for a ball gown really mattered so much.

“Hope, wait,” she said as hewalked past her, presumably to leave. Even though she could tell thathe wanted to put this behind them, he still stopped, his expressionboth hesitant and hopeful.

What could she say to him? Couldthey even consider themselves on good terms now?

Acknowledge it and move on.

“Yes?” he prompted when shedidn’t say anything.

“I…” Though she knew thatthere were no reporters in here, no photographers, nothing to suggestthat this conversation would live on throughout history, it stillfelt like there was a spotlight on her and she had to be careful ofwhat she said. “Are you still coming to the ball?”

He blinked a couple of times,finally looking at her fully. The smile the curved on his lips saidit all. “I think so. You did invite me, yes?”

“Yes. And the invitation stillstands.”

He bowed, still smiling at her.“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

(pssst, if you liked this, please consider buying me a cup of coffee! ❤)

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