#fair warning though I will say some stuff about the ancients and why the idea aside from specific tribes/polis is not smth I wanna engage in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[ Author’s Note : 物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief. But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful.

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact?

“I’ve offered to, before. He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair, I thought playing with the tiny ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal.

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now. An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful.

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his.

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either?

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll.

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up.

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary, I couldn’t work miracles.

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “ I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.”

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well, I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either.

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct. Yugyeom smirked, winking at me.

I shuddered in disgust.

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle.

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more.

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

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well.

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?”

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?”

I blinked.

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this.

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in.

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off.

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.”

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me.

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.”

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in.

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated.

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually.

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss.

“I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.”

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned.

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered.

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?”

He was quiet for a second.

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss .

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good. I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway.

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?”

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize,

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break.

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid.

“You’re here.” He said blankly.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine. She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic.

He hesitated before shaking his head.

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go.

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.”

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly.

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.”

Oh, God.

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even.

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away.

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

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish .

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive.

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in.

We were seated at the table, dinner was done.

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation.

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals. And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance.

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck.

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..? Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name?

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

If anything it made it harder for him to move on.

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized that this is what they wanted.

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge.

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it.

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned.

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him?? What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted.

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips.

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end.

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over.

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.”

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too blind to see it.

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently.

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.”

She gaped at me.

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ”

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight.

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked.

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...”

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older .

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled.

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly.

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out.

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him.

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked.

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re telling me that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped.

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again.

He took a deep breath and went on.

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.”

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw.

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was.

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened.

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened.

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.”

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face.

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it. .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it.

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat.

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh? is the guilt finally catching up?”

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side.

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.”

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side.

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ”

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..” I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh. “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have a name and you should remember it. "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.”

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again? Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.”

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable.

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle.

Coward.

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?”

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted.

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down.

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped .

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs.

It made me laugh.

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck.

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ”

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.” he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between.

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock.

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us.

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference.

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.”

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace.

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me.

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out.

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on. “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.”

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me.

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong.

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

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

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me.

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different.

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between.

i was exhausted.

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day.

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him.

What now?

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm.

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother. I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about.

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ” He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me.

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way.

For now I could only accept them at face value.

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor.

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that.

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.”

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless.

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery.

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway.

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place.

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-”

“Its her birthday.”

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low.

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard.

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated.

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.”

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing.

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently.

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name.

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?”

He stared at me.

“I want to go alone.” He said finally.

I hesitated.

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him.

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often .

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed.

“Alright... Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her. “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards.

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts.

I would be in the car anyway. By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago.

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container.

On a whim I moved to the cupboard in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open.

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him.

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue.

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?”

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves.

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact.

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him.

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm.

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake .

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it.”

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully.

I smiled and zipped the bag shut.

“Lets go shall we?”

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

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet.

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there.

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him.

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms.

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive.

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang.

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning.

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat.

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101 now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt.

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy.

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me.

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain.

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes.

it wasn’t that hard.

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way.

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use.

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds.

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders.

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place.

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done.

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore.

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.”

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically.

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “ I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.”

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch.

“No.. No I’m fine.”

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

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.? “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again.

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually,

“I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly.

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something.

Partly because that would be so inconvenient.

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened.

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.”

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans.

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice.

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked.

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed.

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly.

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse.

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows.

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently.

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts.

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable.

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me.

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes.

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully.

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.”

His face shifted into a frown.

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me.

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.”

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.”

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial.

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare.

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little.

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head.

“Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.”

I gaped.

“Months?”

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?”

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye.

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted.

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table.

Jungkook blinked.

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away.

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character.

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun.

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way.

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.”

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

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself.

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

Lietuenant Colonel Idiot And The Kastat Root Part 2

Part 1

The first thing John is aware of when he starts to come to is the quiet beeping of machines. He knows that that’s never a good sign but he feels floaty and warm so he has a hard time caring about what exactly landed him in the infirmary this time. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking against the overhead light, dim as it was in the moment but he doesn’t realize he’s made a noise until Teyla and Ronon quickly come into his line of vision. “Hi,” he manages, voice hoarse with disuse, and you know, probably from the tube they’d shoved down his throat to anesthetize him when Carson had cut him back open to clean him up a little. “Where’s… what happened?” He has a vague memory of a stomachache and of screaming but the pain meds they have him on makes it hard to think. It also makes it hard to sleep, so when Teyla tells him gently that he should go back to sleep and they’ll fill him in later, he doesn’t argue. He just closes his eyes and lets the darkness return.

-- It happens like that a couple of times before John finally, truly, wakes up. He thinks that it’s probably the pain that does it, that pulls him back to the land of the lucid, as Beckett has started weaning him off of the good stuff. He doesn’t remember much from those quick bursts of consciousness, but he does remember that while he’s seen Teyla and Ronon every time, he hasn’t once seen Rodney. Where’s Rodney? “Aye, Colonel,” Carson greets, leaning over as he adjusts John’s nasal cannula, Teyla and Ronon just visible over his shoulder. “Welcome back t’the land of the livin’, lad. How’re ya feelin’ this morning?” “Where’s Rodney?” He doesn’t miss the way Carson’s face shifts, just for a moment, nor does he miss the look shared by Teyla and Ronon. Something sits painfully in his gut at that and for one brief, horrible moment, he’s afraid that something happened to Rodney, something off-world, because Rodney was always here when he woke up, and-- “Settle down now,” Carson admonishes gently, and John is embarrassed to realize that the beeping on his heart rate monitor has sped up. “Rodney’s down in the labs, that’s all. He’s alright. The only one y’need to be worryin’ about now is yourself.” “How much do you remember?” Ronon asks and John can tell by the look on Teyla’s face that she’s not pleased at the question. It had been a routine mission, right? M3-X982, the Plesians, according to the ancient database. Not so routine if you ended up here, his brain reminds him and okay, fair enough. He takes a second and tries to think through the brain fog he always associates with the good drugs. He remembers the almost meatloaf and the bad jokes told by Plesia’s leader, Korom. He remembers the heat--. No. Not heat. The fever and the stomachache and--. Screaming. Hoarse screams, begging them to stop killing him, for Ronon to let him go, for Teyla to help him. And Rodney… Rodney, holding the dagger looking very much on the edge of a panic attack as he sliced through John’s skin, flaying him open. “Your appendix nearly ruptured,” Carson supplies, voice more gentle now. “Rodney recognized the signs fairly quickly but the doctor in Plesia was ill-equipped to operate.” “Doctor McKay very likely saved your life, John,” Teyla says, a fact she’s tried to get through to Rodney since their return. “Aye,” Carson agrees. “We had t’put ya under again to clean up a bit of infection and to right some suturin’, but he did bloody well considerin’ the circumstances.” “Then why… why isn’t he here?” Because no one has actually told him that much, but John can probably guess why. Guilt is a hell of a thing and John knows in an instant that he would’ve never wanted the roles reversed, would’ve never have wanted to have to--. “I need to talk to him,” and he’s not exactly thrilled with how desperate he sounds but he really doesn’t care right. He needs to talk to Rodney, needs to seehim, to tell him he did good. He starts pulling at all the leads and wires and Ronon is there again, a firm hand on his shoulder, urging him back down. “Let me talk to him first,” he says and even Teyla raises an eyebrow at that. Ronon isn’t exactly known for his uh, gentle nature, but when she meets John’s eyes, she gives him the slightest of nods. “Tell him to get his ass in here, or I’m gonna come find him myself,” John warns, but there’s no heat. The slight exertion has left him very nearly panting through a wave of pain. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message,” he says and without anything further, Ronon is gone. -- Rodney McKay isn’t known for his silence. He knows he’s a loud, obnoxious, abrasiveman even on his best day and yet ever since they’d returned from Plesia, he hadn’t been able to muster up the strength to even so much as raise his voice. It’s unnerving his scientists, he knows, but he doesn’t care. Mostly, he keeps to himself and keeps working, stopping only long enough for the occasional power nap and to replenish his supply of power bars. He’s just finished the aforementioned nap when Ronon finds

him, trudging back down to the laps to continue his work on the ancient device they’d found some time ago. He’s hoping that with enough tweaking, it can be used to send a patient into something sort of a temporary stasis, long enough to get them back through the Stargate where an actual fucking medical team can--. “McKay,” Ronon calls, but Rodney doesn’t stop. “Little busy, Chewie,” he calls over his shoulder but it lacks the usual McKay bite. “Sheppard’s awake.” Rodney does stop for that, but he doesn’t turn, shoulders tensing and he has to take a deep breath because he can feel something like panic trying to surge up again. “Is he--?” “Pissed? Yeah. Pissed that you weren’t there with us when he woke up.” “Well I’m sorry that some of us have actual work to do and can’t spend days--.” “You’re bein’ dumb.” Rodney whirls around at that, and he can feel the vein in his forehead throbbing in anger because he’s not--! He’s just--! “Sheppard probably wouldn’t have made it out of surgery without some major problems if we’d waited until the rain stopped. The Doc said so himself. Because of what you did, he’s got about another week of medicine and he’ll be back on his feet.” “I am not that kind of doctor,” Rodney reminds Ronon and he hates how he sounds in that moment, so, so upset. So weak. The weakest on the team, always. “You were the most qualified in that room to do what had to be done,” Ronon says and while that may actually be true, that won’t help when the nightmares come back. “You held it together better than either me or Teyla would’ve.” Rodney highly doubts that. “Listen,” Ronon says and this may be the most words Rodney’s heard him string together ever. “It sucked but it had to be done. You can’t keep beating yourself up for it.” We’ll see about that, Rodney thinks. “Thanks for the pep talk, Conan,” he says as he starts back for the labs. “You’re goin’ the wrong way. Infirmary’s that way.” Rodney doesn’t respond and he half expects Ronon to come after him, to throw him over his shoulder and haul him off to the infirmary, but a moment later, Rodney hears a quiet sigh and heavy footsteps falling away. He’s just not ready yet. -- Rodney might not be ready yet, but John’s never been the most patient person in the world. Especially not when it comes to Rodney. He’s tired, in pain, and annoyedby the time he makes it down to the labs, a trip that should’ve taken him five minutes on a good day but has taken nearly a half an hour for all the breaks he’s had to take to stop and lean against the wall. Carson’s going to have a field day when he comes back from surgery to find that John’s managed to sneak out, but he’ll just have to deal with that later. For now, the only thing he’s concerned about is Rodney. Atlantis takes pity on him and opens the door to the labs the minute she senses him approaching, allowing him to continue to hold on the wall as he slips inside and the minute he sees the slope of those shoulders in that blue shirt, any annoyance John had been feeling faded away. “Listen Teyla,” Rodney says and he sounds exasperated which leads John to believe that the Athosian has been down here plenty while he’s been holed up in the infirmary. He’s glad for that though. Means his people are taking care of each other. “I appreciate y--,” he turns and the words die in his throat. “Hi Rodney,” John greets, maybe a little dumbly and Rodney stands up so quickly that his stool topples backward. John thinks maybe he’s going to haul off and punch him, so he braces for impact, but when Rodney approaches, he grabs John’s arm and hauls it around his shoulder, giving him something else to lean against. “You’re supposed to be in the infirmary, you absolute idiot,” Rodney hisses and when he gets John seated on a stool, he moves to tap the communicator in his ear. “Rodney, wait!” And he reaches for the other, closing his hand around Rodney’s wrist. “Just… gimme a minute, okay?” Rodney hesitates, which is unusual for him. Rodney is always so sure of himself and quick to make

sure everyone knows it. Was this because of what happened on Plesia? “Listen,” John says and that’s about as far as he gets before Rodney is talking over him. “No! You listen, you, you, you irresponsible, stupid—” There’s a half a second that John wants to be offended and starts to respond in kind, but he stops himself because he realizes that Rodney needs this. That he’s been holding this in since they got back from that stupid planet. “You could have died! And not just from your stupid appendix, but your entire body could have gone into shock and you could have died! Because you were too stupid, too, too, too you to just go to the damn infirmary before we ever left!” “I know, Rodney and I’m –” “No! You don’t know. You have no idea!” He’s pacing now, wringing his hands together and John doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so upset. The thought that he’d been the one to cause that— “What if I’d been wrong, Sheppard? What if that had been for nothing? What if I’d—" “Rodney,” John says and he stands then, ignoring the way that the room spins just a little. “Listen to me, okay? I’m fine. You did everything right, and you probably saved me from a really shitty next few weeks, assuming I hadn’t died. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for you.” “But--.” “No buts,” John answers. “I’m sorry you had to do that, that I made you have to make that choice. You’re right, it was stupid to go off world without getting checked out first and I’m sorry, alright?” He reaches up, rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck. “I just… wanted to, you know, thank you for saving my ass out there. And to tell you that I’m really glad to know that no matter what, you’ve got my back.” And Rodney sags, all of the fight and the anger and maybe a little of the guilt too having gone out of him. “You’re… really alright?” “I’m really alright,” John promises him and this time, Rodney sags against the table, the tension leaving shoulders. “Thank God,” he breathes, and a breath later, “you owe me for this.” “Ah, there he is,” John says and he feigns annoyance, rolling his eyes. “No, no, you don’t understand. You owe me.” “I know, Rodney.” He doesn’t protest as Rodney comes around again, hauling John’s arm over his shoulder and as they begin to make their way from the science lab, back to John’s own quarters, John lets Rodney’s incessant babble wash over him. It felt good to hear it again, he realizes, even if he knows he’s never going to hear the end of this. And honestly? Well. He wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.

#fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #sga #sga fic #john sheppard #rodney mckay #ronon dex #teyla emmagan #hurt!John sheppard #john sheppard whump #teamfic

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archonanqi · 3 years

Text

fragile as dust / 10 - above the clouds

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---

You were pleased to see a hint of surprise on Zhongli’s face when you flung open the front door three hours before you were meant to come home from work. Even Zhongli got caught off guard sometimes, it seemed.

“Back so soon?” Zhongli put down his book and watched with raised brows as you sprinted across the living room to your own, then back. “Oh dear, has there been another fire?”

“Very funny,” you found yourself smiling. “Xiangling wants to bring me to Cuijie Slope to gather some Qingxin. We might be camping there overnight! She told me to go home and grab some warmer clothing.” You flapped your billowing white sleeves at him to make your point. This was one of the first pieces of clothing he had bought you, and you found excuses to wear it the moment so much as a breeze picked up. It was warm, comfortable, and it had pockets!

Though certainly, the way that Zhongli usually smiled when he saw you in it wasn’t half bad either.

Today, he did not smile. “Cuijie Slope?” The slight edge to Zhongli’s voice had you taking pause as you slung your backpack over your shoulder. You studied his face, but found, as always, nothing to betray his emotions. “Xiangling told you that?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you said, more carefully now. “Is it a problem? Sorry, I should have asked you beforehand, I know—“

“Hmm. It’s nothing at all.” Zhongli said, picking his book back up. “Though Cuijie is known to have its fair share of Hilichurl camps, Xiangling is a good fighter. You two will be fine.”

Ouch. Though there was no way Zhongli could know of your Vision, it still stung that Xiangling had so much mastery over hers and you— well.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhongli.” You quietly returned to your room, the oddity of the interaction quickly forgotten in your excitement. This would be the furthest you had ever ventured out of Liyue Harbor, and with the lovely Xiangling, no less. You stuffed an extra set of clothes into your bag, and another book for good measure — sometimes waiting for the hunting traps to spring took hours that even Xiangling’s bright voice couldn’t fill.

You paused in front of the drawer by your bed. It certainly didn’t seem like fate was fond of the idea of you seeking Zhongli’s help with the Vision, and frankly, neither were you. At best, you would receive lessons from the most talented (and only) Geo Vision user you knew. At worst? Well, you had never seen Zhongli’s fury, and you didn’t plan on forcing him into one. The longer you waited, the angrier he would be at your deception. Perhaps your chance at telling him had already passed.

And what good would the Vision be if you brought it with you? If Xiangling saw it, would she tell Zhongli? Though you didn’t think so, it was not a risk you were willing to take.

Before you left, your gaze fell upon the dragon’s fang on the windowsill. Whether it was truly Rex Lapis’, you did not know; but you could not imagine Zhongli lying. You stuffed it into your bag along with everything else. Certainly, something associated with the God of Wealth would be good luck all the same.

Zhongli had already opened the front door for you when you emerged from your room, waiting with his hands behind his back. “Have a lovely trip,” he said, with so much warmth in his voice that you briefly considered cancelling on Xiangling and staying home with him instead. “And Hansi?”

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli?”

His golden eyes glittered in the sunlight as he looked, it seemed, straight through you.

“Please do stay safe.”

—-

“Wow, for a ‘slope’, this— this is really tall,” you joked feebly between rattling breaths. Was it just you, or was it getting a little harder to breathe? It seemed like you’d been climbing at an incline for hours.

Xiangling pulled to a sudden stop in front of you, almost tripping you over. You peered at her in silence inquisition, and after a moment of eyeing you carefully, she finally spoke. “Okay. Okay, you have to promise not to tell Mr. Zhongli about this.”

“About...?” You asked.

The little chef chewed her lip for another few seconds before blurting, “there’s no Qingxin in Cuijie Slope. That’s not where we’re going.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re not at Cuijie Slope,” she said, words flowing faster than the waterfall you’d just passed. “My dad would’ve lost his mind if he found out, so I had to say that we were going to Cuijie.” She paused, eyeing your expression and grabbing your hand. “Please don’t be mad at me! It’s all mountains here so there’s gonna be SO much more Qingxin than the one or two we usually find and- and I’ve never even been here so just think of all the rare ingredients waiting to be found and—“

“Xiangling, where are we?” You asked, even though you already had a feeling you knew.

Xiangling sighed, before finally admitting: “Jueyun Karst.”

Immediately, you knew that you had to turn around and go home. Of the stories that Zhongli had told you, plenty were about Jueyun, the land of the mystical and illuminated Adepti. The concentrated mystical energy here attracted plenty of unfriendly creatures — and the Adepti themselves certainly didn’t sound to be the welcoming sort.

But before you could squash it, another memory came to mind. The pure Cor Lapis that Zhongli treasured so much, the one from his dear friend— did he not say that it could only be found in Jueyun Karst?

Xiangling was still going on with no sign of slowing down. “—I know that some people say that it’s dangerous but I’ve heard the little girl from Bubu Pharmacy come here, so how dangerous can it really be? And besides, what’s an adventure without a little bit of excitement—?”

Yes, how dangerous could it be for two Vision-holders, if a child could come and go as she pleased? Surely you could dip in, find a few ingredients for Xiangling… perhaps a Cor Lapis or two for Zhongli and get home before night fell and the monsters came out? You could already imagine the smile on Zhongli’s face, the gentle thanks he would offer—

Xiangling finally paused to take a breath, still carefully eyeing your expression. “But of course, if you want to go home, I won’t stop you.“

“No, this is exciting,” you beamed, “let’s go.”

—-

As you walked along the paths of Mt. Hulao, the dread in your heart at disobeying Zhongli slowly waned. Never had Zhongli explicitly forbidden you from coming here — he’d only warned you against it. There was no contract to be broken. He would surely forgive you when no harm came to pass.

While Xiangling carefully bottled each Qingxin, sweet flower and mint petal she came across, you busied yourself with peering at every Cor Lapis vein along the rock path up. It seemed that the higher you went, the purer the Lapis got, and eventually, you managed to — with a lot of help from Xiangling and her polearm — crack open a chunk that shone so brilliantly translucent under the sun, you had to squint to look at it.

You could barely wait to see the look on Zhongli’s face. You carefully wrapped the prized Lapis in a handkerchief, then placed it in your pocket — you didn’t want to even risk it getting scratched by all the stuff in your bag.

The sun had stained the horizon with the color of Zhongli’s eyes by the time you neared the peak of the mountain, yet Xiangling showed no signs of wanting to go home. A few times, you wondered if you should say something— yet when you swung around the steep path and emerged from the trees to an open sky full of monumental stone forests draped in wispy clouds, any lingering apprehension you might have had disappeared instantly.

It especially helped that Xiangling, wielding her flames as proficiently as she did in the kitchen, made short work of chasing away any Hilichurlian creatures that came by.

“That one looked a little different,” you pointed out as Xiangling sent another little gathering of hilichurls packing.

“Yup, I think that Xingqiu — he’s my friend, he knows everything — called it… a samachurl?” Xiangling offered. “They can use the elements, but they’re still Hilichurls. Nothing to worry about! Really, I don’t know why everyone made such a big fuss about this m—”

In the next few seconds, time seemed to slow to a crawl.

All you knew was heat, blinding and searing against your cheeks. The sky-shattering explosion that followed was the loudest thing you had heard in your life, and you could only watch as the plume of ravenous flame hit Xiangling squarely on her side. She crumpled to the ground with a small, broken sound, clutching at her shoulder. Through her fingers, you could see the raw red scarlet of blood.

A creature you had never seen before appeared before the two of you, hovering two feet above the ground. It was dressed in a fur-lined, crimson shawl. A black, bird-like mask hid all of its face but glowing, hollow orange eyes that flicked between you and Xiangling. After a few seconds, it laughed, an ugly noise that seemed to echo all around you.

“And here I was, wo̝̕r̠r̻̠̲͔̮̟̥i̷̲̼e̺͠d̗̖̗̼̮,” it chittered,, waving its flaming staff around with glee. Occasionally, it lapsed into a language you did not know, but which sounded so ancient that it chilled your bones, “that the trespasser would b̶̮̼̹e̹̘͚̗ ̹̣t̯͔̪͇h҉̩̮̩̺̣̫e̞̦̞̣̫̪ ͖͈͔̦̰̱s͖̲̮̺̳is̥̺̬͙t̫͕e͎̘̜͚͕͞r͏̬̞̟͚͉͓ͅ of the Prince! But just two humans! One blessed by the Archon of Flame! And the other— the other reeks of the A̱͙̣̙̤̲̳r͎c̥̳͚̩͠h͏̙̮̙̗̭̣̬o̹̫̮̕n̰͔ ̼͜o͉͔̼̟f͇̞̦ ̮̩͕̻͟S̲͎̥t͔̼̼on̳ę̝̰̤̖̭̥!̣͚͕̜!”

Was the creature an adeptus? It could speak, and though much was gibberish that you didn’t understand, perhaps it could be reasoned with. “We’re terribly sorry for trespassing,” you tried to steel your shaking voice, “oh Mighty and Illuminated Adeptus. We’ll leave immediately. Please grant us a safe passage through the forest.”

“ A̭̱͍̮͘D̰͖͓̲̲Ȩ̙͚̺̻̞̻P͢TU̮̣̞͈̠S? ” It shrieked, a ring of fire forming around it in a sphere. “How dare you liken me to the servants of an Archon? I am an Abyss Mage! W̱̻̥̙̗͔͝e̳̘̺͎͔͎͓ are the Abyss Order! We will de̤̹͉͕͖̩s̙͎̦͖̩̯̰͘t͈͈͍͈r̵̪͍͚̫o҉y̜͙̭̙͞ ͍̥͙͢th̕e̙̮̘͕̬̤͎͘ ̡͇r̦͞ul̗̮͉̪̠͘e of the Archons, and bring about a new world!”

“What are you doing in the Adepti’s Abode, if you want to destroy the Archons?” It seemed to like hearing itself talk, and as long as it was talking, it was not hurting you. For the first time, you were mildly glad that your life prior to Zhongli taught you this.

“I suppose there is no h̠͉͝a̝̱̖r͖m̥̞ ̷͇̖̩i̼͉̝͠n̪͚̬͢ͅ ͍̪̹͎̝͍͉te̦͍̤̤̳̼̕l͓̝̣̹̗͢ḻ͝i͓͉̹̹͜n̘͎͔͚̟̩g͓̩̰ ͕͙y̴̭ͅo̤̞̞̬̞ͅu̯̫̪̺̦͓̖, you’ll be d̻̪e̖̦a͓͘d̹͕ soon enough,” it laughed again. “There is an object of power here, enough to be a God’s! If we can get our hands on it—“

Beside you, Xiangling had shakily gotten back on her feet, the usual fire in her eyes dulled. She looked so suddenly small that your heart broke. You would get her out of here if it killed you. “Do you think you can walk?” You whispered to her, and you were infinitely relieved to see her nod slightly. “I’m going to distract it. Go run and get help.”

To your surprise, it was the easiest decision you’d made in your life. Xiangling was hurt, and she could not fight. To leave her here would be to leave her to die. And so, it had to be you. Your mind suddenly clear, you reached into your bag and brandished the dragon’s tooth at the Abyss Mage.

“This is a tooth of Rex Lapis himself,” you shouted, your voice only breaking twice. “How’s that for a powerful object, huh!?”

“R̂̋͜e̒̿̏̅͛̊̓xͭ̿͊͊͜ ̓̄ͭ̐ͥ̕L̂͂aͮ͊̐p̷iͬͣs͆̍̿͐͊ͯ̉͏—? No, you can’t fool me! The object we came for was not of a God a̖͜s̤ ̧̖̜̜p̯o͡w̪̫̮͈͈̣̖e̫̩rf̣̖̼̗̻̮u͕͇̻̘̹͢l҉̖̝̫̥ ͚̲̞̮̱͍͢ą͓͈s̪͔̩̜̼̥̥̕ ͚ͅthe Geo Archon.”

“So, wouldn’t something from the Geo Archon himself be even better, dumbass?” You were slowly finding a strange calm, taking slow steps away from Xiangling, putting the Abyss Mage in between her and yourself. “Won’t your Prince be mad if he knows you passed up something that used to be part of an Archon, to find a minor God’s artifact?” You were taking liberties here, and you hoped with every fiber of your being that the creature was stupid enough to take the bait.

“T͠h̕͜e͡ ̨P͝r͝i͘̕n͘c͘e̕…” it seemed to shudder, the flame in its eyes glowing anew. “Give the tooth to me!”

“Come and get it!” You shrieked at an octave reminiscent of the Mage itself, and with all your might, began sprinting away from Xiangling — further up the mountain. You did not turn around to make sure that Xiangling was able to escape, or even to make sure that the Abyss Mage was following you. You simply ran, and ran, and prayed.

—-

The first time you paused for breath, the muscles in your legs aching, the Mage materialized in front of you once more. How foolish of you to think that you could outrun something that wielded the arcane.

“Give me the dr̷̕͢a̢go̸n̨'͏̧s ͝҉t͜o̶͘o͝ţ̕͝h͟,” it demanded. “You dare defy me, human ?” There was nothing but disgust in its voice, and you knew at once: Mage or not, it was the same as every man, every bully, every noble who had ever tormented you. It expected you to run. It expected you to beg, and grovel, and cry.

It did not expect you to run towards it, screaming words you had only heard uttered between sailors at the harbor.

And certainly, it did not expect you to drive the tooth, with all your might, straight into the ring of fiery energy around it. Where the tooth met flame, red crystals erupted amidst a kaleidoscope of sparks, covering you in a warm crimson glow. The Abyss Mage screeched, a terrible sound, as the shield around it cracked — then shattered with a hot, explosive force that threw you to the ground.

When you picked yourself up again, your veins so full of adrenaline that you could hardly stand, the Abyss Mage was sitting in a dazed, crumpled heap on the ground.

With the last of your strength, you whipped your bag — all four books and two day’s worth of clothes packed tight — against the Mage’s head with so much force that the bag’s contents burst out of its seams and spilled onto the ground. Without another word, the creature fell to the ground.

You weren’t sure if it was dead. You didn’t want to find out. Leaving everything on the ground, you turned around, and for the second time that night, you ran — and you prayed.

—-

At night, Mt. Hulao was a completely different beast. The mountain was pitch dark, the only sources of light the pale moon — and the faintly glowing, large chunks of… amber? that lined the mountainside. Sometimes, when the moonlight lined up just right, you swore that you could make out vague shapes within them. More than a dozen times, you lost track of the trail, and had to carefully backtrack until you could make out the dirt path amidst the grass.

Then, it began to rain.

Your clothes were warm, but they were not waterproof. Even as you tried to walk under the shelter of trees, you could feel the water soaking right through the silk and cloth, the mountain wind chilling you to your core. If you didn’t get warm soon, you doubted that you would survive even a few more hours.

A hint of panic was slowly crawling its way up your throat, but you were determined not to let it past your lips. All that mattered in the world was: finding Xiangling, then finding your way back to the harbor. You’d take any punishment from Zhongli, any amount of lectures or— physical retribution, if it meant that you could see his face, feel the warmth of home, once again.

In your pocket, the chunk of Cor Lapis sat snug and safe. It was a small blessing.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you did not notice the vines under you begin to shift.

That is, until suddenly, your feet stopped moving. You went down with a yelp that dissolved into a scream as you landed badly on your wrist. Immediately, you tried to scramble back to your feet, but they were firmly stuck to the ground and coated in a viscous orange liquid that looked a lot like the massive amber chunks around the mountain.

The shapes inside them—

To your horror, you found that you couldn’t move the wrist you fell on. With your good hand, you desperately clawed at the liquid and only succeeded in spreading it everywhere, and as it clung to your clothes and hair, beginning to harden.

Against your throat, your necklace seemed to tighten.

“You dared to trespass on the Land of the Adepti,” a tremendous voice thundered around you. “ And now, you will pay the price”.

For a brief moment, it was hilarious. Of all the damned times you had begged them for help, for escape from your hunger and fear and life — of all times, now the Adepti chose to take notice of you? The panic trickled through, leaving your lungs in a hysterical little laugh. The liquid had crawled its way up your thighs, and you knew that there was no use begging for your life. The Adepti did not care.

And so, you begged for Xiangling instead. “My friend is still on the mountain. Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst.” The amber had reached your chest, hardening rapidly against the cold night air. There was no answer.

“Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst,” you repeated. The amber had reached your shoulders.

“Please grant her safe passage through Jueyun Karst.” Your neck.

“Please—“

—-

A memory:

It had been about six days since you had that bout of nightmares, since Zhongli sat by your side as you slept.

The morning after, you’d woken up feeling strangely full and content. You could vividly remember your last dream: Zhongli, sitting amidst dust and sunlight.

The only indication of the previous night’s occurrences had been the wooden chair sitting by your bed.

You’d joined Zhongli for breakfast that day, expecting him to comment on your nightmares, and braced yourself for the uncomfortable conversation.

“If you ever need someone to speak to,” was all he’d said instead, his gorgeous eyes unreadable as always, “remember that I am here.”

—-

What a silly thing to suddenly remember.

Zhongli— what would he think of your disappearance? Would he go looking for you in Cuijie Slope? How long until he marked you down as a simple waste of his Mora and moved on with his life?

Even if Xiangling made it back safely and told him about where you were… You were certain that this was the one time Zhongli would not be coming to your aid. He knew the dangers of Jueyun Karst, and he was nothing if not careful.

How odd, to be so achingly sad in your last moments, when you were so lucky — lucky enough to know Zhongli’s gentle warmth during your short life.

As the amber closed over your eyes, your last thoughts were of Zhongli’s hands in yours.

#zhongli #zhongli fanfic #zhongli x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin #fragile as dust #anqi writes #my writing

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 4 years

Text

101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them. Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post. Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss. Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole. The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere. Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries. He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor. Izuku tries to figure out why.

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma. He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings. Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic. Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain. he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school. Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All. All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku. They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf. And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit. I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances. izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom. Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible. Aizawa has no answers. They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work. All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless. Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods. None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through. They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another. It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did. All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor. But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor. None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them. And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might. He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor. But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives. He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up. Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might. Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might. That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes. Not do anything, just sit there. Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night. The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right. She wants it to be perfect before showing it off. But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be. Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral. He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

#mha #bnha #mha prompts #bnha prompts #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #deku #bakugou katsuki #aconstantstateoffanfiction

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?

Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:

@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger

@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam

@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked

@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected

@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct

@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect

@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know

@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath

AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch

Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works

Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)

@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation

As for specific works I like:

Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,

Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight

The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.

The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.

“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”

The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

He’d probably be dead in a week.

The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes

Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.

Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight

The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.

Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.

James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.

When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.

The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?

Puppy Love by Reioka

Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.

Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska

After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.

Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.

Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.

Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow

Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”

What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet

For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:

"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)

We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.

Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.

Except for geese. Geese are assholes.

and so, we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.

What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.

And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?

Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!

#alle answers #winteriron #fic recs #have a great day as well!#hold-our-destiny

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

Text

Ducktales: Jaw$! or How Lena Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Webby (Lena Retrospective Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Trigger Warning: Part of this review contains discussions of abuse which can’t be avoided but I still want to be senstive to my audience and any trauma they’ve gone through. Welcome back weblena world to Shadow Into Light: My Lena Sabrewing Retrospective. And Jaw$ is here, long live Jaw$. Tiffany was a shark who bites the law she was in an episode i’m reviewing called Jaw$.

And it’s the money shark before the storm as next month i’ll be going from two Ducktales reviews a week with the Lena retrospective and the last few episodes.. to three, as i’ll ALSO be covering the Della arc from season 1 in the build up to shadow war. And if your wondering if I expertly planned this to coincide with the finale, to the point the shadow war review and those leading up to it will be on the same week as the finale.... nope. I just got REALLLLY lucky as I already had all of that planned out, and the schedule for the new episodes happened to synch up perfectly, ending just in time for me to revisit the series start and having Magica’s big in person appearance reviewed a week after we get her backstory in Life and Crimes. Though I am VERY happy it worked out this way as I get to properly celebrate the series end with more ducks than ever, and get to cover the pilot the same month as the finale, all things i’d of loved to do anyway and probably would’ve rejiggered my schedule to do. Point is lot of Ducktales content coming for this blog if you like that so stay tuned, but for now join me won’t you under the cut as we dive into a money bin of gay ducks, shadowy machinations, and Bad PR.

We open as Lena and Donald awkwardly sit on the couch, waiting for Scrooge and the Kids to get home. Understandably it’s just.. dead silence.Given their a cynical teenager secretly working for and forced to obey a horrifying shadow monster and a 35 year old man who dosen’t like living in this house due to painful memories of his presumed dead sister.. and painful memories of pain in general, you have a huge awkward bowl of chips and “I really don’t want to be here right now”.

Our heroes return though, and Louie tries to take some of their haul for himself but Scrooge stops that “It goes in the bin not to next of kin. “... Man in a Hurry if you would please.

Thank you. Man in a Hurry everybody. He has to go now, he’s in a hurry.

As you can probably guess I do not like this, as it reminds me WAY too much of Scrooge’s worst “quirk” in the comics: how he’d barely pay his nephews, who are often hard up for cash mind you and one of whom is supporting three children ALONE, take them around the world and reap all the benefit for their hard work. It’s not like he did nothing, he did, but it’s way to exploitive for my tastes and can often sink a story if taken too far. It’s not AS bad... but they all went on the mission they all deserve at least something. I DO get keeping the rarest and most dangerous stuff for himself, as he is bankrolling things and does have two bins and a massive garage to safetly store them. But this just comes off as douchey for this version, who while liable to make mistakes with them, is far more nurturing towards his boys and girls.

Thankfully this was course corrected next season. While Scrooge’s greed was properly restored.. this sort of treatment wasn’t. “Treasure of the Found Lamp” had him undergo character development and realize simply hoarding his treasures isn’t right or fair, and set up a musuem wing so both duckburg and his descendants can see them and get the stories behind them. And on not getting to take things clearly he’s eithe relaxed or stopped the policy as our heroes do have souveneers from time to time. Not a LOT mind, but little things like Dewey having a giant sword or Scrooge outright giving Louie one of his things show he did soften up. Though Della’s return and likely lack of tolerance for this stupid policy in the first place probably helped a lot, I also like to think he did change a bit and realize it was deeply unfair they didn’t get more than a few treasures of their own. So the writers did realize they kind of went overboard here. I suspect this was more to setup for the episode’s subplot and to make Scrooge’s karma at the end feel justified. Speaking of which we get the start of said Subplot as Beakley comes in with a money cart and the news the board called. Why they called his house instead of his phone I don’t know, some things slip through the cracks when you running both a billion dollar company an da trillion dollar fiendish organization for world larceny. I mean they clearly worked themselves so hard the other two apparently died between seasons. That or it was the diet of whiskey, orphan tears and grease in a wine glass both had. Bradford always told them it’d kill them though to his credit he only said I told you so twice at their funeral.

For once no their not mad Scrooge is spending all the money they use to buy fowl jetskis, but because the Company’s having a bit of a PR nightmare now that Scrooge is back in the adventuring game. And we cut to the beanstalk they just adventured on having tore up a good chunk of the town and destroyed large swaths of it just to sell the point this isn’t their normal old man yells at other old man for spending all me money schitck, but a serious problem. As such they’ve booked him an interview with Roxanne Fetherly to improve his image and the companies.

Scrooge scoffs at this, baffled why he has bad pr as his adventuring is GOOD for the city in the long run: He pays for any damages it causes, and likely at a cost no less which is a LOT coming from scrooge, and puts most of the money he makes on these adventures back into the city and his company, creating more jobs and better living conditions. He does get a wakeup call via truly hilarous gag as Launchpad pops his head up to say “Good news mr. mcdee, it missed the orphange!” before getting ready to chainsaw the stalk for him. He quickly realizes MAYBE he needs some PR and agress to the interview.

This whole subplot really plays into one of the series main themes, one Frank brought up a few months back: Risk vs Reward. Adventuring is entirely about this, that adventure is dangerous, can cost you a lot as we see with Della and the aftermath of her terrible decision making, and can hurt people.. but it can also help people, bring money to those who need it, free those who are being oppressed and open new worlds to everyone. This subplot distills it down great: Scrooge is right that his adventures do bring in money, and as seen with the first episode brought in clean water and power with no drawbacks and only asked to be paid for it, which is fair given he still has to run machines and likely help relocate any workers whose jobs are now redundant to other parts of the company and retrain them. But it costs people their homes and jobs, not forever but still as long as it takes to construct, tears up roads and puts people in danger. It’s plots like this that make Bradford the perfect final boss for the series: He’s someone who blinds himself to the reward of all this and only sees the risk, and raises valid points even if he himself is deeply wrong. He’s right Scrooge causes a lot of danger and threat to the world.. but wrong in that he dosen’t see it’s all worth it for the good of everyone.

But enough about future story arcs let’s get back to this one, as Webby excitedly greets Lena and hugs her, realizes she’s not hugging her back then gives her another squeeze anyway after claming to hate hugs when just a LOOK at Webby would tell you that’s false. The two are having a sleepover, Webby’s first ever.. and given Lena’s essentially an Emo Hobo and the closest thing she has to home is that starlight ancient amptheater that’s never properly explained. Seriously ancient ruins near Duckburg dosen’t suprise me, but at least tell me what they are and why Magica chose them. And why Louie hasn’t tried to sell tickets to Dewey boxing a gorilla in them. Or probably a possum I mean their on a budget and gorillas snap necks, but still i’d pay to see that as would we all.

Point is it’s their first sleepover and naturally Webby’s first bit of smalltalk.. is how tucking in can be used for interogation techniques. I’d be more suprised if earlier this season it hadn’t already been shown Beakly regularly enrolls her daughter in the no murder, unless you really want to, hunger games every year. The fact Webby hasn’t become the bat is only because she hasn’t found a costume that’s the right combintion of pinks and purples to instill pantswetting terror yet. That shit takes time.

Lena goes to the bathroom.. to talk to Magica who we properly get to meet. She did speak last time, but this ep is the one that properly establishes her personality for the reboot: she has clever plans, tons of power, if sealed currently, and is a genuine threat.. but she’s also a bit of a ham, in love with the old ultra violence and really short sighted in her plans, something we got hints of last time as her best solution to the Beakly Problem was to just leave her to die and hope scrooge and webby, two people who love solving mysteries and unlocking puzzles, don’t investigate the horrifying death, accident or not, of their only friend and grandmother, and that neither, especially the 12 year old spiraling with grief, would suspect a former spy died. Thoguh in fairness on the spy thing it’s plausable Magica didn’t know that, but still it’s a bad plan. Magica has good ideas but is just so obessed with the brute force way of doing things she forgets the subtle approach works better.. and so far it has well for Lena. Problem is it’s VERY clear by this point that Lena likes Webby, maybe not romantic styles JUST YET but it’s getting there. Webby on the otherhand has been in love with Lena from the freaking concept art which showed her blushing around her.. and that was in her 87 design.. which they thankfully changed. It’s not terrible but it just dosen’t fit well with this universe. Point is Lena is catching feelings and Magica realizes this and tries to gaslight her telling her she’d never acccept the truth abotu her and so on. As we all know and as we’ll see that’s bullshit but it’s an effective manipulation. We also find out Magica’s plan: she had Lena sneak a jewel into the treasure going into the bin, and it’s going to turn into a monster that will seek out the Number One Dime for them. She also vaugely hints that there’s something Lena needs from Magica.

Once Lena returns, and Webby let’s her rabbit know the interogation isn’t over, she gives her possible future girlfirend a gift: friendship bracelets! They both put them on and it’s really fucking cute.. and will be both a tangible symbol of hteir friendship and a plot point several times, something I honestly hadn’t thoguht about till now. Lena, put off by the gesture not because she dosen’t aprpciate it because of the crushing guilt of lying to the one person who cares about her under the insucrtions of a sociopath, goes to Webby’s big old corkboard which is always fun to look at.. especially since it’s clearly the ONLY glimpse at Hortense we’re going to get all series.

We’re not getting Grandma Duck either. Though at least Frank actually regrets that one. But the important part is one of the posts mentoniing Scrooge hates magic, something Webby elaborates on: He hates spells, hexs curses and what not and feels them a shortcut. From the man who has a garage full of them.

I do kid as I did realize there’s a valid expliantion for this: Scrooge will use magical items, protection spells that sort of thing.. but he uses them like anything else as needed. He’s too pragmatic to not say, use the jewel of atlantis to give a city clean energy and water he can montizie, or the split sword against FOWL.. but more often than not he just dosen’t need them. He collects them because it’s fun, oftne profitable.. and their simply SAFER in his museum wing, garage and second bin will get to in two weeks. He’s seen time and time again how people misuse magic, forget it has a price, or just rely on it instead of actual skill. He’s also clearly been on the bad end of a LOT of evil sorcerers and soreceresses, especially magica. Magic isn’t inherently bad, which in itself is a BIG message of Lena’s arc, it’s just somethign that’s the OPPPSOITE OF everythign scrooge is: sacrifcing others for power, relying on something besides yourself, distance attacks versus up close and personal phsycial attacks.. it was never going to be for him and tons of bad experinces with it only cemented it. He’s just not so stubborn outside of the santa thing to avoid something if it’s going to net him a profit or come in a pinch.

So naturally Scrooge has banned any magic books from his house, as he has no use for spellcasting and any he’d need to keep for saftey or history’s sake are likely at the archives, but just as naturally, Webby smuggled one in and wants to try it with Lena ducking it and asking to play some games. I”m sure Huey has a few yugioh decks in his room go bug him. But before they can decide on one, the boys attack for a PILLOW FIGHT.... which is a sweet gesture and them just wanting to hang out, but ends with them all eating the ground and questioning why they thought attacking the duck equilvent of cassandra cain was a good idea. Louie decides to salvage it with a swim.. but since their pool has a boat in it he has a diffrent location in mind: the bin.

So while they head off to get head injuries, Beakly tries to prepare Scrooge as the Media are vultures and looking for the next scandal with public figures and it’s accurate. But given Scrooge’s natural mood is grumpus, this dosen’t go well at all and even a spray bottle dosen’t exactly help.. I mean it is the best method to deal with grumpy old men but it can only do so much.

At the bin we get a lovely bit as Dewey prepares to dive and his brothers treat it like an olympic one, with both doing commentary, Dewey’s apparently response to if he was worried about brain damage was Nerp, and we get the wonderous national anthem of dewdonia. Just nice as well as lovely to see the brothers just having a crack and enjoying each others company with their own weird injokes but without the injokes feeling as forced as they were in “Beagle Birthday Massacre”. Things take a turn though as we see just what magica created with the stone... a giant shark made of scrooges money who eats that fucker in a single bite.. in this case Dewey. Louie and Huey naturally run off panicked.

So while Huey and Louie gain another scarring memory to tell their therapist when their older, Scrooge begins his interview with Roxanne Fetherly who.. honestly just weirds me out. Not for any personality stuff but because she has green feathers. And it just.. really feels WEIRD. I mean green ducks are a thing in real life.. but it just looks off to have such a pastel color on a duck when the other colors are white or tones meant to invoke real world races, allowing ducks to be black, latino, asian and so on and so on coded. That’s fine and blends in fine.. but with that metaphor the green just really dosen’t fit well at all. It feels like an early decision they made, but decided not to retcon or go with for anyone else which makes it all the more weird. We’re 3 seasons in , almost at the end, and the only other green duck we’ve seen was like that because of magic and the offputting nature of it WORKS for magica. Here I just don’t get it and I never well. But naturally Roxanne starts in on invasive, gotcha questions with no real good answers or time to respond, so fox news level questions, and then asks what part of ireland he’s from.

Naturally that sets him off so while that rant goes on, literally next time we see him he’s still going on about it, we cut to the girls playing truth or dare.. and given Webby’s first question is about deepest darkest secrets the boys once again save her by running in... to report on the monster she created that just ate their brother. Lena brushes it off but does get them not to go to scrooge claming he’ll throw them to the shark himself. I mean he’s not comics scrooge so he probably woudln’t but their also two scared 11-12 year olds so it works well enough. They just need a way to go after the money shark. Enter launchapd who in the second best bit of the episode, says he sensed his best friend dewey was in danger. Beck’s delivery is what sells it.. and I’m not going to question it. He’s somehow alive despite presumibly living off a diet of spaghett-o’s, barely avoiding a car accident on his best days, and as we’ll find out later believing children in costumes are monsters he summoned when he was 8. The fact he suddenly has spider sense specifically related to people he cares about is honestly less of a surprise than the fact he’s not in heaven crashing God’s Speedboat into God’s Golden Castle with God’s Golden Lion riding shotgun.

So they do the natural thing and.. steal Donald’s houseboat while he sleeps. He has no more involvement in this episode other than noticing it’s back and not in great condition at the end. I bring this up because this is one of Donalds ONLY apperances this season, and it’s part of the larger more irritating problem that he’s hardly ever used.. despite promoting him as a major part of the series.

I will talk about this more during the Della arc as i’ts more relevant there, but needless to say it bothers me a lot and not knowing how to ballance it’s massive main cast was a constant struggle for the series even up to the final episodes going on right now.

So our heroes head out on the bin late at night, where could the Jaw$ be she’s nowhere in sight. So they decide to use other treasure as a lure they either fished out of a bin or out of scrooge’s bathwater. How bathing in coins gets him clean I don’t know and frankly I dont’ think we want the answers to that and the idea of scrooge fully naked is so horrifying I forgot what I was talking about.

Ah yes our heroes are playing bait the money monster and find out it’s a shark, and Lena.. is not okay with that and goes to talk to Magica inside the boat. Magica tells us she has a name, Tiffany. Awww what a lovely name for a money shark. I would of gone with Rags to Bitches, but I may have brain damage. Lena understandabily does not like the idea of getting eaten by a shark, asked to be informed and while Magica is mad at her for going after the thing, Lena reasonably points out that it was this or Scrooge got involved. Up top Huey tries catching it with a bit of treasure on a rope.. after not shutting up about shark facts because “Facts comfort me when i’m nervous!” Precious angel. But Huey’s leg gets caught and he and Louie, somehow on the latter get thrown up in the air and chomped. Back bellow Webby has a suggestion: using magic. Lena naturally not wanting to blow her cover or really liking magic period is against it for now.

Back at the interview, Roxanne brings on a special guest to prove people don’t like scrooge: GLOMGOLD!

Glomgold may create some issues for the subplot and we’ll get to those in due time, but damn if it isn’t always a pleasure to see him. He’s also on good terms with Roxanne... are.. are we sure this is local news and not fox news? Taking the word of a conservative greedy billionare over a progressive one seems like a fox move. Though I might actually watch fox news if glomgold was a commentator. “I propose a red new deal instead of this blasted green new deal, I throw Scrooge to a tank of sharks connected to a generator, the tank turns red with his blood and that somehow creates power! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT MCDUCK”

So we get the best bit of the episode as Glomgold tries to complain about his building being destroyed which would be fair... if he hadn’t tried to blow up Scrooge’s bin twice this week, with Glomgold going for THREE.. for threee.. for three... it dosen’t go off but it does get scrooge to say he’s glad the building was destroyed. Which is fair but NOT super great PR.

Back at the shark things don’t get better as Webby and Lena argue over the use of magic, I mean as much as they can argue Webby just wants to know why she’s so cagey about this while they go with plan “Launchpad crash into it”. Launchpad also gives a hell of a monologue. Good on you bud. As you can see launchpad’s gotten 100% better since his low point in our last episode. That’s because it’s clear the writers had some struggle ballancing his amped up stupidity with actual competence, making him primarily jokey comic relief in the first few episodes and I wouldn’t be shocked if Terror of The Terra Firmians was written before a lot of the later episodes despite airing around the same time. But by mid-season he’s got his much more lovable charactersation of a dangerous moron..l but one who CAN be competent and is genuinely charming due to how much he cares about his friends and his job. They also dialed down the stupid down to an acceptable homer simpson level: still a danger to himself and others but hilariously so. Point is they fixed it and while i’ll complain about mistakes the show made I will give this crew all the credit for course correcting time and time again and actually listening to fan feedback.

So Webby figures they tried the Jaws option and lost the boat and launchpad, time for plan Magic. They hold hands, EEEEEEEEE, and try a spell.. and it clearly starts working but almost works TOO well, as Lena starts glowing first purple.. then blue. Hmmmm... intresteing. Lena breaks it off and Tiffany breaks out of the bin.. just as scrooge says on the news his adventures aren’t dangerous.

Scrooge naturally goes to face it while Webby wonders why Lena didn’t go for it. To make it a triple Scrooge shows up in time to distract tiffany.. with the number one dime, which as lena found out earlier is on his person rather than at the bin like the public thinks. So while Scrooge puts up a good show.. seriously it’s really awesome and really neat looking, though he also gets VERY upset that people are naturally holding out buckets for the cash shark, which he’s not happy about because well.. he did EARN that money. Most bin money is stuff directly earned by him so fair enough. But while he’s you know, Scrooge Fucking McDuck, and thus puts up a good fight the monster eats him.. and gets the dime stuck in it’s tooth with Magica wanting Lena to grab for it, forgetting that minons, while mildly disposable, aren’t really replaceable when your SOUL’S ATTACHED TO THEM. That’s where Magica’s weakness is. her plans aren’t half bad but as I said, she’s far too bloodthirsty and short sighted. She has better ones than glomgold but ironcially they share the same problem of not thinkign them through. And Magica cares so little for lena she’s blinded to the fact her own personal saftey is tied up in her.

Lena naturally dives for her future girlfrriend and heads into the belly of the beast. And it’s here her REAL moment of truth is. While the one last episode was noble.. it was also easy enough to brush off internal as pragmatisim. Letting Beakly die would’ve brought too much heat and been too easy to quickly go terrible, while saving her got her off Lena’s trail and gave her free reign of the manner. But here? Webby is about to slip into Tiffany’s stomach and whle she hasn’t digested anyone yet given who made Tiffany with it’s likely just because she hasn’t had enough mass to create chainsaws to carve them all up. It’s the Dime or Webby. Lena’s own freedom or the girl she loves. Nothing good comes from saving Webby.. other than Webby. Other than the one person whose truly loved her. I mean think about it: She was created by magica, abused for a good decade and a half. No one but Magica has had a chance to care about her and as we’ve seen Magica only sees her as a weapon to get back at scrooge and not as a person. Webby was the first person she’s ever made a genuine connection with, that’s been there for her, that loves her unconditionally and woiuld be there for her no matter what. And it’s in that moment Lena realizes she can’t sacrifice her for her own good... that after years of having to be selfish to surivive being chained to that monster... she can’t be this time. No mastter what it costs her.. Webby is priceless. So Lena recites the spell, growing bright blue and blowing up tiffany. Lena gladly hugs webby who reciorpates, awww gaybies, and Launchpad hugs dewey. Awww... what it’s still precious he’s a good surrogate uncle. The wacky kind who sleeps in a van on your lawn.

So Scrooge is glad.. though it’s here his subplot falls flat. Him getting attacked by the media and getting a compupance by loosing tons of money from tiffany is fine. Evne if he earned it, his lack of care did bring this on him.. hte problem is they take it too far by having all his nemies show up, him unable to say anything and glomgold blatantly doing so just to steal from him. Otherwise the subplot is fine, a bit heavy on scrooge being a dick but it has to to work and puts him in an awkward situation. But this ending just feels to over the top to realy enjoy. And the series does do over the top humor well so I don’t know what happened here. But having a bunch of outright thieves steel his money instad of a bunch of citizens who didn’t know better and deserved it for the damage, feels wrong and it tastes wrong.

Speaking of feels wrong and tastes wrong we get an INTEINTONAL dose of that as back at the amptheater, Lena and Magica argue about the situation and Magica trying to kill her. Lena tries to walk away but can’t.. phsyically. Magica won’t let her. And this is honestly a very crushing and very well crafted metaphor for how abuse victims sometimes CAN’T escape their abusers. Magica is verbally abusive, treats lena like she’s disposable and constnatly downtalks her self esteem. To Lena magica is nothing but a tool.. but like MANY children caught in horrifcally abusive situations Lena can’t get away. It’s a literal metaphor, an da good one, for how you can’t ALWAYS escape abuse easily, and this especially true for kids who have nowhere to go and hte law on their abusers side more often than not. It’s hard to escape an abusive parent and even harder when they dont’ consider you a person. I thankfully have no personal experince with this but it dosen’t make it any less of a problem nor any less noble of this show to tackle the subject in a frank, if fantastical, way, and a good chunk of Lena’s arc is overcoming this abuse and not letting her abusive past drown her. But for now.. all she can do is agree to do what Magica says till she can hopefully be rid of her. But the light at the end of the tunnel’s coming.. there’s just a whole lotta darkness first.

Next Time: We take a break from the episodes to cover some Lena related comics for a double feature; The first Spies Like Us has everyones faviorite lesbian ducks go on a spy adventure that was never printed in the us for silly reasons we’lll get to and then the 87 ducktales comic dime after dime which features Lena’s predecessor Minima.

Later Today: Close Enough Season 2 is here! I”m going to talk about it! Exclimation Points!

If you liked this review feel free to follow for more. And if you have an episode of Ducktales or another animated show you’d like me to cover just hit me up via my asks or direct messages on here and comission it. And if you’d rather just support me on a monthly basis, head over to my patreon. THE LINK IS RIGHT HERE. Even a buck a month would help and the more of you that donate the closer we get to my Duckcentric stretch goals. The current closest ones are 15, which would lead to reviews of The Goofy Movies and Treasure of the Lost Lamp, and 20 which would lead both to a review of the Super Ducktales mini series, and monthly darkwing duck reviews! So if you like me talking about ducks and want to bolt some duck reviews to the schedule, even a dollar a month would inch me closer to that goal. Eveyr bit helps. But money or not, it’s been a pleasure and i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #weblena #lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakly #donald duck #launchpad mcquack #dewey duck #huey duck #louie duck #magica despell #tiffany despell #jaw$#jaws

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softboywriting · 5 years

Text

Heart Strings

Summary: Moving back to your hometown of DeLuca Falls is the best choice you’ve ever made. You promised your Grandma you would come back if she needed you someday, but it turns out you need DeLuca Falls. Going home brings inspiration, love and unexpected surprises when you meet Shawn, an unlikely friend of your Grandma’s. Shawn seems like the perfect guy but he holds a secret that may just ruin everything. [werewolf au] [light angst] [fluff]

Word Count: 12k

|Masterlist in Bio|

Welcome to DeLuca Falls, reads the big red sign with hand painted white letters and apples as it sticks out from the forested landscape along the side of the highway. You turn off at a gravel road and head onto the trees that pass the sign and leads into town. You've got your windows down, favorite album playing on the radio and the wind in your hair. The sense of nostalgia hangs heavy as you make your way home.

DeLuca Falls is as beautiful as it always has been. It's the beginning of fall, the trees are just starting to turn. The air is crisp, the skies are clear and the world is full of magic here. Your hometown has always been like a little slice of heaven on Earth. It's small, cozy, just a speck on the map where everyone knows each other and everyone is like family.

As soon as you get into town, the trees opening up to reveal Main Street, you turn onto a dirt road on your left with an old sign the says Birchwood Drive. Its the road that winds around up through the woods to various private residences. When you get to the top of the hill you turn on an unmarked drive that will take you to your grandparents cabin.

Your grandpa died a long time ago, when you were just a teen. Grandma is still here and she's getting old, and you promised you would move back to town one day for her. It's time you made good on that promise, but it's not the only reason you're moving back. There are rumors that werewolves were making themselves comfortable around DeLuca Falls. Your whole life you've been warned about werewolves, growing up in the woods in the middle of no man's land lead to people telling horror stories of the creatures of the night. Your grandpa in particular always made a point to tell you to be careful.

Your grandma is a pretty spry old woman, but age is age. You can't stop the body from wearing out and she is definitely doing just that. There is no way she could fight off a werewolf and you worry about her living in the woods all alone.

As you wind through the trees that you've driven countless times and come out in the front of the cabin, you see someone standing by the wood pile stacking logs. It's a young guy, dark hair, tall, dressed in jeans and a green flannel. From his profile you can guess he is probably your age. You have no idea who he is and your grandma definitely has not mentioned him.

"Hello?" You ask, getting out of your car with your keys in your hand and the man turns around to face you. He's gorgeous, all sharp jawline, soft brown eyes and pearly white teeth as he smiles at you warmly.

He waves, friendly as can be. "Hi! Are you Bibi's granddaughter?"

"I am? And you are?"

"Shawn." He sticks his hand out and you take it. Despite the cold air and lack of gloves, his hand is extremely warm.

"Oh." You introduce yourself just as Grandma steps out onto the porch. "Grandma!"

"Pumpkin!" She hurries down the steps and gives you a big hug. She's so much shorter than you as she rocks you back and forth. "Oh, it's been too long."

"I know Gram." You run your hand over her wooly sweater covered back. "But I'm back home like I promised."

"Yes you are." Grandma steps back and beams at you. "You've grown up so much. You're beautiful. Isn't she beautiful Shawn?"

Shawn flushes, and clears his throat in a sort of agreeing way.

"Grandma, please. You always say that."

"Because it's always true." She reaches up and pinches your cheek.

"So...you didn't mention Shawn before?" You look to the man beside her and he raises his eyebrows, looking between you and Grandma.

Grandma smiles innocently. "I didn't? Oh, well, this is Shawn." She grabs Shawn's arm and pats him on the shoulder. "He helps me with the firewood and groceries and things. He's a wonderful assistant. Aren't you, Shawn?"

"I try my best ma'am." He chuckles.

"Oh." You shake your head and repress your initial response to ask why you needed you to move back if she had help. It's not fair to her to say that though, and it sounds selfish. You made her the promise to move back and besides, with Shawn around maybe you would have help in the event of werewolf troubles.

"Shawn, will you go get some of the dry logs from out back and bring them in? I'm going to put on some coffee."

"Yes ma'am." He nods and heads around the back of the house to the woodshed.

You take grandma's arm and walk with her into the house. It's just as you remember. Nothing has changed since you were a small child. She has the same furniture grandpa made. The same rugs, the same ancient black wood stove, the same blankets hung over the couch. Time is frozen here, and you can't help but smile as you sink into the worn out wooden bench seat against the window at the back of the kitchen.

"So, have you found a place to work in town?" Grandma asks as she gets her coffee pot plugged in.

You look out the fogged glass window and see Shawn loading up the canvas sling to carry the wood inside. "No Grandma. I work from home remember?"

"You don't have to go to the library?"

"No." You chuckle. "I have a computer I can use anywhere."

"Oh yes. You did tell me that."

You look over and she's filling a measuring cup with coffee grounds. She was always so precise when she made things. "I'm working on my second book by the way."

"That's great! What's this one about?"

"A single mother moving to a small town and falling in love with the local doctor."

Shawn walks in and places the wood in Grandma's holder beside the stove. He looks over at you and quickly looks away when he finds you watching him. You can't help but smile.

"I can't wait to read it." Grandma opens a few cupboards and sighs, looking around the small kitchen for something. "I can't find the filters."

"The spice cupboard, Bibi." Shawn says and walks over. He opens the door over the sink and hands her down an unopened package of brown paper coffee filters. "Here you go."

"Ah, of course. Thank you." Grandma says softly and Shawn leans against the counter.

"Of course. I'm going to head out, if you need anything just call?"

Grandma nods. "You know I will."

Shawn looks over at you with a soft smile and you wave. "It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

_____________________

A few days later you get a call from Grandma and she wants you to stop by and take her to the bakery in the afternoon. Of course you have no problem taking her out, so around noon you grab your keys and a jacket and head to her house.

When you arrive she's sitting on the porch in her chair and Shawn is leaning on the railing chatting with her. You park near the house so she won't have to walk across the uneven gravel driveway to get to the car.

"Are you ready, Grandma?" You ask as you step over a little pile of leaves that Shawn must have been raking.

"Oh Pumpkin, I meant to call you back. I've decided I'm just too tired for a trip today. I didn't sleep well last night, there was a terrible ruckus in the woods."

"Oh. Is everything alright?" You lean on the post that holds up the porch awning.

"I'm sure it is. It quieted down in the early morning."

Shawn frowns, looking as troubled by this news as you are. "I can look into it if you like?"

Grandma waves him off. "No, no need to do that."

You sigh softly. "Well, I can still get you some stuff if you need something from the bakery."

"Would you? I can make a list...just a moment." Grandma pushes up out of her chair and before she can fully get up, Shawn stops her with a hand on her arm.

"Bibi, I can go with her. I know what you usually buy. You don't have to go through the trouble of making a list." He says softly.

You watch as Grandma sits back down and nods. "You and Shawn should go together," she says with a smile.

"I don't mind." Shawn says, looking over at you. "Are you up for it?"

"Sure." You give Grandma a look and she just smiles. You know she's doing this on purpose, setting you and Shawn up.

Shawn pushes off the porch railing and heads for the car. "Let's get going, the bakery sells out fast."

Grandma gives you a little wave and you head for the car. She's a mischievous little old woman. There is absolutely no way she didn't plan this.

The car ride with Shawn is short but quiet. Mostly he stares out the passenger window, watching the trees pass as if looking for something. You want to make small talk but you're not sure what to say. You don't want to sound like an idiot because Shawn is extremely attractive and he's really sweet. He is definitely someone you want to get to know better. If only you could sort out how to do that. Dating isn't your forte.

"Bibi planned this." Shawn chuckles as you pull up to the parking spaces outside of the bakery. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah, most likely. She's definitely a matchmaker." You laugh, surprised he was thinking the same thing.

"Oh yeah? Has she done this before?"

You take your keys out of the ignition and drop them in your purse. "She did once. There was a boy in town who worked at the orchard and I had the biggest crush on him in highschool. When Grandma found out, she would send me to get fresh apples all the time in hopes he would ask me out."

"Did it work out?"

"No. He had a girlfriend and he was a year older than me."

Shawn smiles. "Too bad. He missed out."

You flush and Shawn gives you a cheeky look. "I-I are you..." You shake your head, trying to process the fact he may be flirting with you. "We should get in there before everything's gone."

He hums and opens his door. "Let's get going then."

Inside the bakery Shawn asks for a loaf of cinnamon bread and two banana walnut muffins. You browse the cases that are nearly empty already and it's just after noon. The place brings back memories of when you would stop by as a child with your grandma or mom. There are few things on the planet better than the smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon rolls.

"Ready?" Shawn asks and you look up from your reminiscing at the tray of danishes in the front windows.

"You're done?"

"Mmmhmm."

"But I should have paid? Did Grandma give you money?"

Shawn shakes his head and pushes open the door for you to walk out. The wind whips inside and it's definitely chillier than you realized, or maybe you had just gotten used to the warm bakery. "I paid for it, no worries."

"You don't have to do that."

"It's just a few loaves of bread. It's not much." Shawn sets the bag on the hood of the car. "I got us something too."

You lean up on your tiptoes to try and peek into the bag as he takes out a big cinnamon roll. "Those are my favorite. How'd you know?"

"Good guess?" He tears it in half and passes part of it to you.

"Grandma told you didn't she?"

"Nope." He stuffs a chunk in his mouth. "Bibi didn't tell me a lot about you, but she did say you were beautiful and smart and she's very proud of you. I can confirm the first bit for sure."

"Shawn!"

"What? I can't tell a girl she's pretty?"

You look down and shake your head, eyes focused on your cinnamon roll. "I'm not used to it."

"Well that's a shame." He dusts his hands off on his jeans and curls the top of the brown bakery bag down. "I'd ask you out in a heartbeat."

"So why don't you?" You look up with a smile as you put a piece of cinnamon roll in your mouth. "I'm not seeing anyone."

"Neither am I. What're you doing Sunday?"

"Probably nothing but writing."

"Will you go to the orchard with me? They're running the apple fest event this weekend."

You nod. "I'd love to go."

Shawn chuckles and picks up the bag off the car. "We should probably get this back to Bibi huh?"

"A few more minutes couldn't hurt? We can stop by the market? I'm sure she could use some jam right?"

"Of course." Shawn sets the bakery bag on the front seat, walks around to your side of the car and offers his hand as you step up onto the curb. "Lead the way," he says with a smile and you turn, walking quickly toward the big awning that says DeLuca Market. He gives you butterflies and you can't remember the last time you felt like this.

_____________________

"Shawn! Come here!" You shout as you run towards a noise you've been hearing for about ten minutes. What you find isn't exactly something you'd expected.

The two of you are at the orchard for your date and Shawn had suggested apple picking after you did the tour and got hot cider. Things are going great, Shawn is funny, smart and soft. He even put his arm around you while you toured the building where they make the cider.

At the entrance to the orchard you both went out with a basket and whatever you pick you get to keep for the low fee of entry. You had been wandering around for a few minutes, showing each other huge apples and laughing at some of the funny shaped ones. Your basket was almost full when you heard a noise in the trees farther down the rows. It almost sounded like a whimpering dog. Shawn says he heard it before you but paid no mind, but since you heard it too he insisted that the two of you start searching.

"Did you find something?" Shawn asks as he jogs up to you.

"Yeah." You pull back a couple of trimmed branches in a pile at the end of the orchard to reveal a little puppy stuck in a shallow hole below.

"Oh no." Shawn drops to his knees and reaches out. "Come on bud, I'm gonna help."

"It growled at me when I tried to reach into there, be careful."

"It's just scared." Shawn lays on his stomach and reaches in farther. "Hey little guy, come on, I promise you'll be okay."

The puppy yelps as Shawn lifts it out and into his lap. The poor thing is muddy, covered in little sticks and leaves. It's shaking, pressed into Shawn's chest for dear life. From the looks of it, you'd guess it is a husky that's maybe two or three months old.

"Do you think he ran off from someone's house?" You kneel down and pick some leaves out of his fur. "He isn't very big, I'm not sure anyone would have left him unattended in their yard."

Shawn peels off his flannel shirt and wraps the puppy up in it. "I'm not sure. He's been out here for a while. Maybe a day or two?"

"How can you tell?"

"I just can." He stands up, cradling the puppy like a baby. "He needs to be cleaned up and fed."

You look around the back of the orchard and there isn't anyone around. Everyone else is up toward the front where the apple trees are full. "Should we take him to the people who own the property? Maybe it's one of their dog's puppies?"

"I don't think we should."

"Shawn, you can't just take it."

He huffs in an almost annoyed way and you raise your eyebrows at him. "It's not someone's puppy."

"You don't know that."

"I do, just trust me."

You sigh and shake your head. "This isn't exactly how I pictured our first date wrapping up y'know. Why are you being so defensive about this? Why not just take it to the people who own the orchard?"

"We just can't."

"Shawn, I don't think we can just waltz out of the trees with a puppy in your shirt. Someone is going to ask questions."

Shawn looks to the woods beyond the fence at the edge of the orchard. "I can go that way if you want to go out the front?"

"Yeah, I guess that's an option. This just feels wrong though. We should tell someone."

"No."

"Shawn! You're being irrational. I get it you like the puppy but he isn't y-"

"We can't take him to anyone because he's not a dog. It's a wolf pup okay?"

"No way." You pull back the flannel shirt and look at the puppy. You can't be sure because he's so muddy, he just looks like a puppy to you.

"He is. I promise you that this is a baby wolf. There are plenty of wolves in the valley beyond DeLuca Falls. He probably strayed from a pack somewhere and ended up here."

"What are we going to do then? We can't keep him. You can't just leave him in the woods."

"I'm not going to keep him." Shawn looks stressed. "I just...I don't know what to do with him."

You wrap your arms around yourself and sigh. "Okay, okay, we'll figure this out. Maybe there is someone we can call to come get him?"

"I don't know. I'm going to meet you at the car okay?" He turns and heads for the fence line. You watch as he crunches through leaves until he's almost out of sight. How did this date end up like this? Things were going so well. This is just your luck.

____________________

Somehow you find yourself in Shawn's Jeep with a wolf pup in a box in his back seat driving to a wildlife sanctuary an hour away from DeLuca Falls. Shawn had met you at the Jeep outside the orchard where he parked and by the time he got there you had found the number for the sanctuary and called, letting them know what was going on. They said they would gladly help out.

"I'm sorry I ruined our date." Shawn says softly as he turns off the highway and onto the county road that leads to the sanctuary.

"It's not ruined. It's definitely the most interesting first date I've ever been on though."

"I understand if you don't want to go out again."

You look over at him and he actually looks genuinely hurt at the thought of you rejecting him because of this. "You think I don't want a second date?"

"I don't know. You seemed pretty upset at the orchard."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to handle the unusual situation. I really would like a second date."

Shawn glances over, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah," you chuckle and lean your head against the window. "Despite the end of the date, I really had a good time. I like talking to you. You're very sweet."

"You're sweet too, and I really, really appreciate a second chance. I'm sorry I couldn't just take the pup to the owners. I just couldn't."

You lay your hand on his arm. "Its okay. I understand. You want to make sure this little puppy survives."

"I know he's not my responsibility and everything but I just couldn't leave him."

"Shawn."

"Yeah?"

"I said it's okay. I promise I'm not mad at you for saving a puppy."

He lets out a soft sigh. "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent sure."

Shawn turns onto the drive that goes to the entrance of the wildlife sanctuary and follows the signs to the information office. The two of you gather up the puppy still wrapped in Shawn's shirt and carry him inside.

"Hi, I called earlier about finding a wolf pup." You say to the girl at the desk whos name tag says Mel.

"Yes! Let me go grab the vet and a crate to bring it back in."

Shawn pulls back the fabric of his shirt and the puppy is sleeping. Mel returns and has a small carrier and an older woman with her.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Tiva." The woman says, shaking your hand. "Where did you find this wolf?"

"At the orchard in DeLuca Falls." Shawn says as he passes the puppy to Dr. Tiva. "It was stuck in a hole near some brush. I think it's been on its own for a few days."

The puppy whines, waking up as the doctor places him in the carrier on the desk. Your heart breaks as it begins to cry, obviously upset.

"That's incredible." Dr. Tiva says softly. "Wolves don't usually get too close to the DeLuca Falls area. It's too populated."

Mel picks up the carrier and heads for the back area. The puppy whines loudly, clawing at the carrier desperately.

"Is he going to be safe here?" Shawn asks shakily. "You'll take care of him right?"

"Yes. We'll clean him up and make sure he's in good health before we introduce him to a surrogate mother." Dr. Tiva smiles. "You're welcome to come back and visit some time. The sanctuary runs hands on classes with most of our animals through the summer and fall months."

Shawn shakes his head. "Thank you, but I think we should probably just part ways."

Dr. Tiva nods. "Thank you for bringing him in, and rescuing him."

You thank her for taking him and she walks away to join Mel in the back. You look at Shawn and he's just staring blankly at the doors to the back where the pup was taken. "Shawn? You okay?"

"Let's go," he sighs sadly, turning and heading out the entrance.

The car ride back home is silent. An hour of silence is excruciatingly awkward but you have no choice but to endure. Shawn pulls up to your place and kills the engine. He just stares straight ahead down the street, hands wrapped around the steering wheel.

"Shawn?" You say softly, laying your hand on his bicep. His skin is on fire, like he had just gotten out of a hot tub or something. You have no idea how he's so warm when it's chilly in the Jeep even for you with a jacket and a long sleeve shirt on. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"The pup will be safe there." You slide your hand up his arm and over his back. "They're going to take care of him, it's what they do."

"I know," he says roughly, voice caught in his throat.

"Do you want to come in for a few minutes?"

He shakes his head. "Thanks for going out with me." He looks over, finally tearing his eyes away from the nothingness. "Thanks for helping me with the pup."

"Are you crying?" You ask as his eyes water up and his face flushes. "Shawn, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Can we stop talking about it?"

"Y-yeah." You lean over and kiss his cheek. "Thanks for the date. I'll call you?"

"Mmmhmm."

You unbuckle your seatbelt and slide out of the passenger seat. "I'll see you later?"

Shawn nods. "Yeah I'll stop by Bibi's one day this week."

"Alright. Take care okay?"

He smiles weakly and you close the door, waving as he turns around in the street to head to his place. You can't help but wonder why he was so choked up about the puppy. And how did he know it was a wolf pup? It's not until he out of sight completely that you realize he has the basket with all the apples in it. Oh well. He could bring them by later or something.

____________________

A storm is raging through DeLuca Falls as you head up the road to Grandma's house. The water rushes down the runoff ditches on the sides of the road. Even with the tree cover it's coming down heavy. When you reach the drive up to grandma's it's flooded over a few inches near the center. Your car is fine as you roll through it and park as close to the house as possible.

You hurry inside, not totally soaked but wet enough by the time you get the door closed behind you. "Gram, I'm here."

"I'm in the kitchen dear, mind Shawn on the couch."

You look over and sure enough the large man is curled up on his side hugging a pillow to his chest. His boots are on the floor by the end of the sofa, seemingly kicked off when he laid down. He's snoring, mouth open and everything. He's making a weird face, baring his teeth and his fangs look huge...almost terrifyingly not human.

"He stopped by to see if I needed firewood before the storm kicked up," Grandma says softly as she walks into the living area and you look away from Shawn.

"I didn't see his Jeep?"

"He walked most likely. I told him to stay until the weather eased up." She dusts her hands off and you can see flour remnants on her dark apron.

"Are you baking?"

"Oh yes, Shawn brought by some apples yesterday."

You smile. Of course he brought the apples to her, it's exactly what you were going to do. "Has Shawn ever cried in front of you?"

"No? I don't believe so. Why?"

"No reason." You follow her into the kitchen and grab a spare apron off the hooks by the fridge. "Need help?"

"Always."

Half an hour passes and you and Grandma chit chat about your date while you peel apples and she makes crust. She admits that she hoped you and Shawn would hit off. You already knew that though, she isn't as sneaky as she thinks.

Shawn appears in the doorway to the living room and you look up. He's a mess of disheveled clothes and bed head. What really gets you though is his when he yawns and his fangs look like they did earlier. You have to do a double take. Were they always like that? You didn't notice his teeth being weird before.

"What're you staring at?" Shawn laughs as he sinks into a chair across from you.

"I thought I saw...nothing nevermind."

Shawn reaches over and grabs a peeled apple slice from the bowl you're working on filling. "When did you get here?"

"A little while ago. You were snoozing while the storm raged on."

"I was tired."

You raise your eyebrows playfully. "What have you been doing to make you so tired?"

"Working, hiking, just the usual stuff."

"Uh huh."

"You should go hiking together," Grandma says as she walks over for a bowl of apples. "You used to love running around out there when you were young."

"I haven't been hiking in years. I don't even know if I have boots for that."

Shawn smirks and leans close with his chin on his hand. "You can always buy a pair in town y'know? How bout it? Our second date could be a hike."

"You're serious?"

"Mmhmm. I'll make us a lunch, we can hike the hills, it'll be a good time." He grins and his fangs still look oddly larger than you remember. It must just be the light or maybe you just weren't this close when he smiled before.

"But what about... y'know... werewolves?"

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

You furrow your brow. "Why not?"

Shawn leans back and take another apple from your bowl. "There haven't been any sightings in a while. Besides, it'll be the middle of the day. We'll have fun."

You sigh. He's right, you haven't heard anything about werewolves since you got to town. "Okay, alright let's do it."

"I'll meet you here on Friday?"

"It's a date."

_____________________

"You smell incredible."

You turn around and see Shawn standing behind you with a backpack on. He's in his usual jeans, boots and flannel but he's got on an extra olive green jacket today. It might be the most you've seen him wear in the cool weather and you're surprised.

"I smell incredible?"

"Mmhmm. Can I?" He leans in as you nod and lean forward for him. "New shampoo?"

"Yes?" You giggle and give him a look. "Is it that fragrant?"

He hums. "I like it."

"I've never had someone compliment my shampoo before, thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you ready to start hiking? I brought lunch." He pats the bag on his back. "Peanut butter and jelly, beef jerky, a few granola bars, a couple apples and some chocolate."

"That's a lot of food."

"I eat a lot." He chuckles and hoists the backpack up against his back. "I'll lead the way, I've got a trail that I think you'll like."

You adjust your fanny pack and make sure your water bottle is secure in its holder on the side. "Let's get going."

An hour into the hike and you reach a ridge that overlooks the valley below. Its all trees, golden and red as far as the eyes can see. Shawn has taken you through some really pretty areas, over a creek and now the ridge. The view is just breathtaking.

"I don't think I ever came this far out as a kid." You say as you take in the view. It has to be several hundred feet above the valley. Not a place you'd want to misstep. Its like the forests go on forever.

Shawn takes a seat and you walk back to where he is unpacking the backpack. "I thought you'd like it up here."

"I love it. You said you go hiking a lot right?"

"Mmhmm."

"Have you ever been down in the valley?"

Shawn looks up at you and then back to the backpack. "Yeah, a while back."

You sink down onto the rocks and take an apple he hands you. "What's it like?"

"Wild." He passes you a sandwich and sits back against the rocks, legs stretched out in front of him. "That whole place is untouched by humans. It's probably where the wolf pup we found came from."

"Oh. How do you think it got all the way to the orchard?"

"No idea. It probably walked a long way since it would have had to circle lower part of the valley to get out." He shakes his head. "No, maybe it came from somewhere else."

You tear off a piece your sandwich and pop it in your mouth. "Speaking of coming from somewhere else, how long have you lived in DeLuca Falls?"

"About three months now."

"Ah. What brought you here? We're not really a big deal."

Shawn chuckles. "I just sort of stumbled upon it and decided to stay when I met Bibi."

"Did you stumble upon her house on a hike?"

"Yeah, something like that."

You toss your apple core over the ridge and tuck your sandwich bag into your pocket. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." He says around a mouth full of jerky. "Fire away."

You move over so you're closer as a breeze picks up and your jacket suddenly doesn't feel like enough protection. "The other day when Grandma said she heard noises that kept her awake all night, did you investigate that?"

"I did. I know she said don't worry about it, but of course I was going to worry."

"Did you find anything?"

Shawn puts his arm around you and you scoot into his side. "No. Whatever it was must have just been fighting or something. Probably foxes or raccoons."

"Oh. Well that's good."

"What'd you think it was?"

You bite your lip and he rubs your arm encouragingly. "I just thought, maybe because it was a full moon that night maybe..."

"Werewolves?"

"Yeah. I've heard people talking about them before I got to town. As a kid I was always warned about them but I don't think they ever actually bothered us."

Shawn's quiet.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking. I wouldn't worry about werewolves in DeLuca Falls. It's probably just rumors because people saw regular wolves or something. I mean, we can attest to that with the pup we found."

"Right." You chuckle and lean your head back. "It's crazy. What would anyone want with our little town anyways."

Shawn sits up and peels off his jacket. "Here, put this on."

"Why?"

"Because you're starting to shiver and we have the whole trek back to make still." He motions for you to sit up and he kneels in front of you, putting the jacket around your shoulders.

"Won't you be cold now?"

"Nah, I'm always hot anyway."

You wiggle your arms into the sleeves and Shawn gets the zipper lined up for you. "I noticed that."

"You noticed I'm hot?" He smirks playfully.

"I meant your hands are always warm, like your body temperature, but yes, you're hot too."

Shawn pulls the zipper up and the jacket closes around all the way up to your neck. He leans in, palm going to your jaw and cradling it. "You're pretty hot too, but not temperature wise."

You bite your lip and he raises his eyebrows, as if asking permission. You give a little nod and he kisses you gently. It's just a sweet peck on the lips but it's enough to send your heart soaring.

"Do you wanna head back?" He asks softly, still knelt in front of you.

"Can we enjoy the view a little longer?"

"Of course." He pushes himself up and hauls you up against him. "We can stay as long as you like."

You turn and look out over the valley and he puts his arms around you, resting his chin on your head.

"Is this okay?" He asks, referring to his hold on you.

"Mmhmm. Makes me feel safe on this steep ridge."

"Good." He squeezes you gently. "I like it too."

You close your eyes, lean your head back against him, and take a deep breath of the crisp clean autumn air. You're happy. Completely, undeniably, happy in this moment.

_____________________

Another storm blows through DeLuca Falls. It's the third one in less than ten days. The weather has been unusual for fall but there isn't much you can do about that. You sit at your computer in your living room, staring at a blank page that's meant to be the start of the next chapter of your book. It seems you can't focus on it, and you haven't been able to since your date with Shawn. There are so many things that don't add up, and you really like Shawn, you do, but things are just strange feeling.

In the late afternoon you go to visit Grandma to see how she is fairing in the storm. That's how you find yourself in her backyard, trapped between the woodshed and an angry badger. You saw the damn thing on the hill when you walked out into the pouring rain but you didn't think anything of it until you started loading up wood. Turns out that badger has babies in the shed and you were a threat for getting a few logs.

You hold up a long log and ready yourself to throw it at the animal. If you miss, it'll attack you. If you hit it, you might scare it off, but it might not and just make it angrier. Worst case scenario, you get attacked and get rabies. Best case, it fucks off and you run for the house.

The badger hisses and you back into the shed completely. You're really trapped now. There is nowhere to go. You hear growling, loud over the storm and you can't imagine dealing with something else right now. To your right you see a person appear and your first thought is Grandma.

"Grandma n-" your voice is drowned out by a clap of thunder.

The growling gets louder and the badger backs away from you, turning its attention to the person approaching from the side of the yard. The moment a flash of lightning illuminates the sky you see the figure is Shawn.

"Are you okay?" He yells over the rain, hurrying closer. He reaches for you, hands on your face.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." You look over and the badger has run off back up the hill behind the house. "I guess the badger got scared."

"Thunder must have upset it." Shawn gathers you into his arms and away from the woodshed as few of the shingles slide off the roof of it. "Careful now. What're you doing out here?"

"Grandma needs wood."

"I told her I was coming over. Didn't she say something?"

"Yeah, but it's just wood, I can get it."

Shawn sighs and shakes his head. "You came out here with no coat, no gloves, no rain boots and no tarp to wrap the wood in and take back. Sweetheart, you're a mess."

You laugh softly. "I am pretty soaked huh?"

"You're shaking." He slides his coat off and puts it around you. "Come on, let's get inside and I'll come back out for wood."

You walk along beside him and he keeps his arm around you. "I could have gotten it."

"You would have had wet wood, splinters and a chill. Now you're probably just going to have the chill."

As soon as Shawn has you settled down in the house he grabs a folded up tarp off the back porch and heads across the yard to the woodshed.

"He was worried about you," Grandma says from her chair near the nearly extinguished wood stove.

"I know."

"He's protective. It's in his nature."

You peel off your wet sweater and drop it by the stove to hang dry in a bit. "I'm glad he showed up when he did. There was a badger out there and something else growling, I think it was Shawn but that's weird right? Both went away when he came up."

Grandma chuckles. "Shawn's good at that."

"Scaring stuff away?"

"Mmm. He's intimidating to...smaller creatures."

You chuckle and shake your head. "If only they knew what a softie he is. I'm going to go change, I'll be right back." You head down the hall past the kitchen to the bedrooms. There are two, grandma's and the guest room that she stores her crafts and other hobbies and interests in. You've got a few clothes in a dresser there that you brought by a week or two ago, just in case you ended up stuck overnight for some reason.

You change out of your soaked clinging jeans and your undershirt. Both items you hang over the end of the little twin size bed frame. There is a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt in the top drawer of a small chest by the closet and you take them out, debating taking off your underwear since they're wet too.

The door behind you creaks open and you jump, spinning around in your underwear to see who's walking in.

"Shit, sorry." Shawn mutters, covering his eyes. He's shirtless, wearing just his jeans and socks. There are few times in your life when you've been completely blown away by something so unexpected you can't begin to comprehend. This is one of those times. Shawn is fit like a swimmer. Now you knew he was strong, he was lean, but you never would have guessed he had such a trained body hiding under those sweaters and flannels and good lord you have to turn away.

"What're you doing?" You ask, now facing the window.

"Bibi said there might be some clothes in here I could put on but I think you found them first."

You laugh. "I think I have extra but you're much taller than me."

"I don't think sitting around in my underwear is ideal, so I will have to take what you've got."

"I wouldn't mind." You smile, tossing him your sweatpants before going to the dresser and taking out a pair of jeans for yourself.

Shawn grins, and shakes his head. "Flirting with me while your grandma is in the other room, eh?"

You turn away and pull on the jeans and sweatshirt. "Maybe I am."

"Maybe I like it."

You look back and he's got his jeans around his ankles. You flush at his silhouetted goods in his navy blue boxer briefs. Even his legs, especially his thighs are attractive. Damn. You've got it bad if you're interested in his legs.

"Like what you see?"

"Wha-" Your eyes snap to his and he puts his hands on his hips. "I see what?"

He chuckles and adjusts the drawstring of the pants. The legs are a bit short and sit above his ankles. "Nothing, wanna get back to Bibi? I'm sure she might get suspicious if we're gone too long."

"Yeah, you're right." You step past him and head for the living room. "Coming?"

Shawn follows after you in his ridiculously small pants, carrying his clothes in his arm to hang near the wood stove. He's so cute. No, sexy. No...endearing. He is everything.

_____________________

The storm passes in a few hours. Bibi says her goodbyes and you and Shawn head for your car only to find it's sunk into the shoulder of the road. The rains had been so bad they washed out a chunk of the road and there was no way you could push the car up and out without getting covered in mud. The two of you decide to just walk home and come back for the car tomorrow when the ground is a bit more solid.

Shawn takes your hand as you walk down the hill towards town. He threads his fingers with yours and you smile.

"What're you doing the rest of the night?"

"Probably going home and watching TV."

You bite your lip and glance over at him. "Do you wanna watch TV at my house?"

"I'd love to. I heard there's a scare fest playing on the Syfy channel."

"You wanna cuddle me while I get scared out of my pants?"

Shawn drops your hand and wraps his arm around you, leaning his head onto yours. "How did you know what my plan was?"

"Just a hunch." You give him a playful smile and he quirks an eyebrow. "Plus I know you're protective. You'll probably be the best person to watch scary movies with."

"I can guarantee I am."

____________________

At the house you and Shawn get comfortable on the couch. You grab all of your extra blankets while Shawn makes a couple mugs of tea and even brings your little carafe over to the coffee table for refills while you set up the blankets.

Shawn positions himself in the middle of the blankets, legs stretched out across the ottoman. You stare at him, wondering where exactly you were supposed to sit with him taking up the entire area.

"What?" Shawn asks, positioning the blankets around himself.

"Where am I supposed to sit?"

"Right here." He pats the space between his legs. "You wanted to cuddle right?"

You step forward and he pulls you down onto him. You move around awkwardly until you're settled between his legs.

He wraps his arms around you and tugs you back against his chest. You take the blankets from either side and pull them around both of you, cocooning yourself in.

"You're really warm." You press back against him and he kisses your head. "Why are you so warm?"

"Guess I just run hot." He says matter of factly and turns the TV on.

You close your eyes while he searches for the Syfy channel. You're so warm you're not sure how long you'll be able to stay awake.

______________________

An hour into a movie you can't remember the name of and you're passing out. Your eyes are crossing, the movie has become ambient noise and Shawn's arms around you are all you can focus on.

A loud jump scare in the movie startles you and Shawn holds you tight. "Easy, I got you," he says softly, nose in your hair.

"I was almost asleep. "

"I know. If you want to go to bed I can head home."

"No, no I'll stay up."

"You're sure? I'm not so convinced."

You yawn and he flexes his fingers over your stomach.

He chuckles. "That's what I thought. Come on, I'll walk you to bed."

"Will you stay?"

"You want me to stay?"

You nod. "You're really warm. I'm not ready to give you up yet."

Shawn shifts around and gets you up on your feet before grabbing your blankets to take to your bedroom. "I guess I'm staying then. Come on sweetheart, I'll make sure you're nice and cozy."

_____________________

The sun streams in your curtains and casts bright early morning light over your bed. You slept hard, barely remembering going to bed. You roll over and the bed is empty, you feel along the sheets and they're cold. Shawn had definitely gone to bed with you last night. Did he leave for work?

You get up and pull on a sweatshirt before making your way to the living room. Sure enough that's where you find Shawn. He's curled up with something in his hands, his huge figure some how crammed into your arm chair. You rub the sleep from your eyes and yawn.

"Whatcha doing?"

Shawn looks up and smiles. "Good morning."

"Morning." You walk closer to him and realize what he's reading is the rough draft of your latest novel. The one you meant to take to Bibi yesterday but forgot on the kitchen counter. "Oh no."

"What?"

"Give me that."

Shawn raises his eyebrows. "What?"

You reach for the ring bound draft of papers and he pulls them close to his chest. "Shawn, stop it. Give me my book. That is for Grandma."

"You didn't tell me you were writing a book with me in it."

"I'm not." You hold your hand out stiffly. "Give me it."

"Oh you're not huh?" He looks down and flips back a few pages from where he left off. "He has dark chocolate curls and soft hazel eyes. He towers over Anya's petite frame, giving off an air of well controlled strength and softness."

"Shawn!"

"Should I go on? Because the part where he rescues a puppy for her is awfully familiar."

You can feel the heat of embarrassment spreading up your neck and into your cheeks. This is precisely why you never wanted him to read your manuscript. He was definitely your inspiration for Kier, the leading male love interest of Anya, a single mother who moved into a small town and caught the attention of the local doctor.

"Stop, fine. Maybe you inspired me a little."

Shawn hands you the draft and you tuck it under your arm. "I'm honored. And for what it's worth, I love the story. What I read anyways. It's definitely realistic and romantic in a way people wish they could have but very few truly get."

"Th-thanks."

"Do you want to grab coffee and take the draft to Bibi? We need to get your car out of the mud anyways."

You look down at your sleep pants and sweatshirt. "Let me go get changed and we can go. Don't get into any more trouble for ten minutes okay?"

"I make no promises." Shawn smirks and you roll your eyes.

_____________________

"So, you write books." Shawn says softly as a conversation opener.

"Yeah." You smile and he grabs his coffee, stepping aside for you to move forward for yours. "I've got one published so far and I'm working on this one," you gesture to the papers in your purse "But I've got a bunch of things that I haven't submitted for publishing. I always give Grandma a copy of everything I do."

"Ah," he chuckles. "I always wondered what those stacks of papers she was reading was."

"You didn't ask?"

"Nope. I figured she'd tell me if she wanted me to know."

You grab your coffee and walk toward the sidewalk with Shawn. "Speaking of Grandma, how did you meet again?"

"I told you, I came upon her house on a hike."

"And that's it?"

"It's a long story."

"Is it? Because I've got time."

Shawn rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "You're sure?"

"Yep." You sip your coffee and raise your eyebrows. "I'm all ears and free time, the walk to Grandma's will take a few minutes."

The two of you head for Birchwood Drive, walking at first in silence as you wait for Shawn to start talking. You aren't sure why he seems hesitant to tell you how he met Grandma. What is the big deal? Why is it such a secret?

"So," he clears his throat. "Bibi and I met on a really stormy night about three months ago."

"Okay?"

"I was...hiking in the woods...and I was pretty messed up." He sips his coffee. "Not like wasted or something. I had been in a fight."

"Whoa what?" You stop him with a hand on his chest. "You got into a fight in the woods?"

"Well, not these woods. I was farther out on a run."

"You were running? On a hike?"

"Uh-huh."

You look around, trying to sort out what he's telling you. This doesn't make sense. Obviously he's still telling the story but it's a hell of a story so far. You already have so many questions. "Okay...go on."

"Well I was exhausted, barely walking back when I saw the lights from your grandma's cabin. I knew someone must be there and I needed help as soon as possible. So I made my way there and collapsed on the porch."

"And Grandma just found you there?"

"Yeah. I scratched at the door until she opened."

"W-what?"

Shawn frowns and you take a step to the side. "Please don't be angry with me."

"What are you playing at? Do you think this is funny?"

"I'm not playing at anything." Shawn sips his coffee and stops a few feet ahead of you. "I've been scared to tell you the truth and I've been waiting for you to ask me all the things I know you want to ask. I know you think something is weird about me."

"You're fine. Everyone is a little weird, so what? What truth are you hiding? I'm confused about your story about meeting Grandma already. Are you insane or something?"

"No, ohmygod no."

"Okay then, so you were attacked on a hike and you ran from wherever until you ended up in the woods here during a storm?"

He nods. "That's right."

"And you find my grandma's cabin and scratch at her door? Who does that? Why not just knock?"

"Because I couldn't knock."

"Well if you have hands to scratch you could knock."

Shawn sighs. "I didn't have hands."

You just about drop your coffee because that statement is like a freight train and it sidelines you like no one's business. "W-what the hell does that mean?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"I mean you're spelling out that you're mentally insane pretty clearly and frankly I'm not sure I want you being around my grandma if-"

"I'm a werewolf." He scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm the one making all the noise in the woods at night. I just think you should know before we get any closer."

Your heart stops. He's a werewolf. Him. This handsome kind man who has been helping your grandma for three months, who you have serious feelings for, is a werewolf. No. No this is a joke. He can't be.

"You're not funny."

"I didn't tell a joke."

"Shawn, you're not a werewolf." You laugh and step up to him on the path. "You can't be."

"And why not?"

"Because..." You drop your voice as if there were anyone else around on the gravel road in the woods. "Werewolves are monsters."

He looks hurt. "I'm a monster?"

"No? That's what I'm saying. I mean you have been nothing but sweet according to Grandma and you've been like a dream come true to me."

"But I'm still a werewolf."

"You can't be!"

Shawn growls, his facial expression turning dark and your blood runs cold. It's the same noise you heard before the badger ran off. He looks dangerous, terrifying. He bares his teeth and you can see some very prominent fangs. The ones you wrote off as a trick of the light that day at grandma's cabin. They're no trick now.

You drop your nearly empty cup. Instead of turning and running away, you punch him in the chest to make him stop growling as he steps towards you. Unfortunately you've always reacted physically to fear and it's why you're not allowed in haunted houses anymore.

"Ow! Shit!" Shawn steps back, groaning as he rubs his chest. "You socked me!"

"Well you were freaking me out!" You say shakily.

"I was making a point!"

"I-I need to go." You walk past him and make a bee line up the road for Grandma's house. He says something about being sorry but you don't turn back.

_____________________

You pass your car as you head up to the cabin, wiping your eyes before you get to the porch. Somewhere before the turn to Grandma's house you started crying. You're not sure why, maybe you were just overwhelmed with everything.

"What's wrong dear?" Grandma asks as she sits you down at the kitchen table. "You look shaken up."

"It's nothing." You take a deep breath and sigh heavily. "I was just thinking about some things on my walk."

"Where's Shawn? Wasn't he going to come help you get your car out of the mud?"

"I think he's busy."

Grandma frowns. "Oh, well I hope you can get it out."

"I'll call a tow truck if I have to." You reach into your bag. "Anyway I brought you my rough draft of the new book."

Grandma sits down and puts her little reading glasses on. "I can't wait. This is the one about the doctor?"

"Yes."

She makes a little squeal of excitement that makes you smile just a bit. Her approval has always been a higher compliment than a review by anyone in the business. "I'll put on some coffee and get to it."

You push up from the table and grab your bag. "I'll leave you alone. I've got some stuff to sort out at home anyways. I just wanted to drop this off and grab my car."

Grandma pulls you in for a hug from her place at the table. "Take it easy alright? Don't stress yourself too much."

"I'll try not to." You kiss her head. "I'll be by later okay?"

"Alright dear. Have a good day."

_____________________

The tires of your car spin in the thick mud. You've been trying for ten minutes to get the thing out, using every trick you know. You tried rocking it by putting it in reverse and then back in to drive quickly. You tried pushing it, even putting sticks and brush under the wheels to gain some traction. Everything you know isn't working.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and let out a soft cry of frustration. You're going to have to call for a tow truck, which means you'll have to walk back down the hill to get signal.

A knock on your window jerks you out of your pit of self wallowing and sends your pulse skyrocketing. It's Shawn.

"Can I help?" He asks as your window rolls down. "Please?"

You stare up at him, his eyes don't seem as soft anymore. Nothing about him seems right now you know the truth. How did you let yourself open up to him? Why did you ignore all the signs?

"Um...are you gonna say something?"

"Y-yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah I need help."

Shawn walks around to the front of the car and braces his arms against the front. "Put it in reverse and I'll push."

You follow Shawn's direction and after two pushes he gets your car back up onto the road. The front end is covered in mud and leaves but you can run it through the car wash sometime this week. Shawn walks up to the window and you put it down again.

"So, earlier...I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"I don't...I don't really want to talk about it right now."

He nods and leans his head on the top of the doorframe. "I understand. For what it's worth, I'm still the same person. I still care for you a lot."

"Yeah." You grip the steering wheel. "I'm gonna go home now."

"I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah, maybe." You start rolling up the window. "Bye Shawn."

_____________________

You make it a week without seeing Shawn. It's a week from hell if you're honest with yourself. You hadn't realized just how much you enjoyed Shawn's company until you didn't have it. The lack of it is your own doing though. You've created a distance while you sort out how you feel about him. His words play on repeat in your head. How he is still the same person. Is he though?

Sunday morning you stop by the open air market set up on Main St. to get some fresh air and do a little shopping. You're not looking for anything in particular, it's just fun to walk through the different booths and see what people are selling.

"Mums, get your mums here!"

You smile as you step up to a booth littered with pots of autumnal flowers and foliage. "How much for- Shawn."

Shawn steps around the back of the van carrying an arm full of pots. "Hey."

The woman before you looks back at Shawn and smiles fondly. "I don't think he's for sale, but I'm not sure."

Shawn places the pots on the open back end of the van and dusts his hands off on his jeans. "Roxanne, can I have a minute?"

The woman nods and goes around to the front of the van out of sight.

"You're selling flowers?" You chuckle, running your fingers over some purple mums.

"Yeah, I help Roxanne set up and stuff on weekends. Sometimes I help Brenda over at the honey booth."

"Oh. But, I thought you worked at the lumber company outside of town?"

"I do, a few days a week." Shawn arranges some of the pots on the table and adds more from the back of the van. "How are you doing?"

You smile softly, feeling almost nervous. "Fine I guess. Just...doing my thing."

"I'm sorry, again. I know it probably doesn't matter. I am sorry though."

"Yeah." You wrap your arms around yourself and stare at the mums before you. "I'm just working through some stuff right now."

"I understand."

You feel fingertips brush your hair and you look up. There's a yellow flower in your peripheral vision that Shawn has tucked behind your ear.

"I miss you."

"Shawn."

"I do." He runs a hand over his hair and scratches at his scalp. "I can...I promise to be a hundred percent honest with you about any questions you have."

"Later. Maybe." You grab a pot and hand Shawn a ten dollar bill from your pocket.

"Can I call you?"

"I'll call you," you say softly and turn away. You won't.

_____________________

"So, how are things with Shawn?" Grandma asks one afternoon a few days after you saw Shawn at the market. She had invited you over for lunch and since you could use a break from attempting to continue to working on your book. It's been hard since the fallout with Shawn.

"Fine."

"He is a sweet boy. Has he told you how we met?"

You eye her suspiciously. You haven't talked to her about Shawn yet. Obviously she knows, and she seems to know that you know now too. No doubt Shawn has talked to her about the distance you've been keeping.

"We chatted the other day."

Grandma sits down with two mugs on the table while the kettle comes up to temp on the wood stove. "Mmm, he said he told you. He was a mess when I found him on the porch. I knew he wasn't any ordinary wolf, his eyes were too kind and pleading. I'm glad he stuck around. He's been great company and a greater help. I think his presence has also run off the pesky raccoons and possums that like to tear up the garden and eat my flowers."

"You're not afraid of Shawn?"

"What? No, never. He has never shown a hint of bad intentions towards me or anyone. Not all werewolves are bad eggs."

You lean back in the old wooden rocking chair and fold your hands on your stomach. "I've been avoiding him."

"Why?"

You're quiet. Why have you been avoiding him? Because you're afraid of him? He hasn't done anything to make you feel unsafe. He hasn't done anything but tell you the truth.

"Honey, do you think Shawn is a bad person because of what he is?"

"No."

"Are you afraid of him?"

"I guess?"

Grandma sighs softly. "I have a secret to share with you."

"What?" You sit up and Grandma stands to get the kettle as it begins to whistle. "What is it?"

"Peter was a werewolf." Grandma pours her mug full of tea and then yours. "I found out just before I married him. Nothing about him was different when I found out, nothing changed. He was still my best friend and the love of my life. Peter kept that secret for five years because he was afraid I would leave him."

You shake your head. "Grandpa was a werewolf? Why...why did he always warn me about playing in the woods then? Why did he make them sound like monsters?"

"Because he knew that not all werewolves were like him. Many stay in packs away from humans and they become feral. He didn't want you to get hurt." Grandma sits down and slides your mug to you. "Peter kept DeLuca Falls safe for us until he became too old to do so."

"If Grandpa was a werewolf then... Mom is a werewolf too? Am I? Ohmygod am I a werewolf?"

Grandma chuckles. "No sweetheart. Your mother was not born a werewolf though technically you and her both have the blood in your veins, you'll never be anything but human."

"But if the genes skipped Mom, I should have been if she wasn't?"

"Well yes but your dad was a human. "

"Oh, right" You sigh and stir your tea with a spoon full of honey Grandma places in it.

"Either way the chances of any children being a werewolf was very slim."

You feel bad. You judged Shawn for something he cannot control while your family also contains the same genetics. He must know, Grandma must have told him all this at some point. You've been such an ass. "I need to apologize to Shawn."

"I'm sure he'd like that. He seemed very out of sorts when he came to tell me about how you've cut him off." Grandma leans her chin on her hand. "It's was my mistake for not telling you the truth about Peter. Shawn knew and he thought you would take the news about him better. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay Grandma. I'm not innocent either. I immediately judged Shawn without so much as giving him a chance to explain or even defend himself. I just...I chose to live in fear of nothing."

"You should go and-" Grandma stops and looks to the front door as someone knocks.

"I'll get it." You push up out of the rocking chair and go to the door, opening it to find Shawn with his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Hey."

"Hey. I didn't see your car...I don't mean to interrupt."

"I walked." You push open the screen and step out onto the porch, closing the heavy wood door behind you. "We were just talking about you."

"Yeah?" He looks nervous. "Did she tell you?"

"Yes." You fidget with the tails of the front of your button down shirt. "I'm so sorry."

Shawn's posture changes dramatically. His shoulders loosen up and he seems to just melt. "It's okay."

"It's not. I was such an ass to you because I didn't understand. I...I didn't know my own Grandpa was a werewolf. I judged you because I was afraid of an idea of what I thought werewolves were." You look up at him and he reaches for your hands. "I am so sorry that I cut you off because of my own ignorance."

Shawn curls his fingers around yours. "I forgive you." He brings your hands up to kiss your knuckles. "Can I ask you to do something for me?"

Your eyes meet his and he looks soft again. Your perception changing back to how it should be. "What is it?"

"Let me teach you about werewolves."

____________________

Learning about Shawn opens your eyes to the world in a whole new way. The two of you spend nearly every day for the next two weeks at your place when he gets off work. Shawn shows you his wolf form, encouraging you to touch his fur and get comfortable with his alternate form. He's still very much himself as a wolf in a way you cannot explain and you find yourself getting used to him fairly easily.

The two of you are curled up in bed, his arm around your waist. It's been a great day. You had gone out to dinner and stopped by the market where Shawn bought you some roses. After that you went home and got cozy on the couch, then cozy in bed.

"Did you know I have werewolf blood in me?"

"Mmm?" Shawn shifts and presses his nose into your neck. "Could I smell it?"

"Yeah, like is my scent different than other humans?"

He smiles and you can hear it in his voice. "All scents are different, but no, I couldn't tell from your scent alone."

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

You shift against him and turn around to face him, fingers playing at the hair on his chest. "I'm not disappointed. I just wondered if that was something I should worry about, y'know, if other werewolves come to DeLuca Falls."

"Oh, I see. You don't have to worry about that. I'll never let another wolf hurt you."

"Are there any other werewolves near here?"

Shawn shakes his head. "No. There used to be some in the valley."

"Where it's wild?"

"Mmm." He reaches out and strokes his finger down your nose. "They made themselves scarce when I got here."

"They were scared of you?"

"I made them scared of me. I didn't want them to come into the town and harass people, especially Bibi." Shawn looks down and you slide your hand over his cheek and run your thumb over his lower lip to see his teeth. "What're you doin'?"

"Looking at your fangs."

"Yeah?" He curls his lip up for you.

You press your thumb into the tip of his fang and then lean in and kiss him gently. "I love them."

He smiles into the kiss. "Funny, just a few weeks ago you were punching me because of them."

"Mmm, I was wrong."

Shawn rolls you under him and he kisses you slowly, licking your lower lip before taking it between his teeth. "You like when I bite you?"

"Mmhmm."

He kisses across your jaw and down your neck. He gives you a playful bite and you squeak, hand going to his hair. "What? Thought you liked this."

"I do, you just startled me."

Shawn rolls his hips down against you as he bites again. "I know you like it, I wonder if you'd like my bites elsewhere."

"Sh-shawn."

He chuckles into your flushed warm skin and begins kissing his way down your chest to show you just how many ways and places you like to be bitten.

____________________

Six months later

"Thank you for coming!" You wave as a fan steps away to go meet with her friends. Just a month ago you released your second book, Heartstrings, after undergoing a few changes to the story. You're now at your first ever signing at the bookstore in the city of Green Port outside of DeLuca Falls.

Shawn's arms encircle you from behind and you lean your head against his shoulder. He's warm, cuddly and safe in the crowded bookstore. He places a kiss on your temple. "How is it going darling?"

"Great." You cover his hands on your stomach. "I never imagined I'd get to have a signing like this."

"People loved your first book. It was wonderful."

"Oh shush."

"It was." He kisses your cheek. "I'm very proud of you. You're an incredible writer."

"Stoppp. You're being mushy." You giggle and he squeezes you tight. "But thank you."

"Of course."

A young woman about your age walks up to you and Shawn and he breaks away, giving you space, but not going too far. "H-hey," the young woman smiles nervously.

"Hello. What's your name?"

"Amelia. It's so nice to meet you."

You take her hand and she is trembling. "Did you have a question? Or did you just want to chat?" You ask warmly.

"I have a question. If I can?"

"Mmhmm. Fire away, I love questions."

Amelia looks to your right where Shawn is talking to your agent. "Is that your boyfriend?"

"Shawn?" You point him out and she nods. "Yes."

Shawn steps closer, wrapping an arm around your back and leaning his head on yours. "You called?"

"I didn't mean to." You smile, knowing he only heard you in the packed store because of his enhanced senses. "Amelia was just asking if you are my boyfriend."

"Yes, I am." Shawn grins, showing off his fangs no doubt. You elbow him a bit and he smiles with his lips closed. He's been terrible about hiding his true nature lately, too comfortable around you no matter where you were.

Amelia flushes bright red. "He...I couldn't help but notice...he is very much like Kier in Heartstrings. Is that a coincidence or..."

You smile and laugh softly. "No coincidence. Kier was definitely heavily inspired by Shawn. I guess he's sort of my muse when it came to finishing the book."

"That's amazing." Amelia sighs softly. "You're so lucky if he is anything like Keir in the story."

"Just like him," Shawn purrs, pressing a kiss to your head that makes Amelia giggle and you roll your eyes. "I don't mean to rush you, but the signing starts in a few minutes."

"Oh! Yes, excuse me. I'm so sorry Amelia." You take her hand once more and she says no problem and thanks you for talking with her.

Minutes later and the signing is in full swing. There is a line around the store of people waiting to have your name on their book. It's so fun, getting to thank everyone and hear their stories and theories about Heartstrings and your first book. Close to the end you see Shawn milling around in line about ten people back. He looks like he's actually waiting for his turn.

Finally Shawn approaches the table and you give him a playful smile. "How can I help you?"

"Sign my book?" He says, placing a copy of Heartstrings on the table.

"Is that all?"

"Hmm, maybe."

You raise your eyebrows and lift your sharpie to sign the front cover.

"Wait!" Shawn says and you pause. He leans down and kneels in front of the table so he's eye to eye with you. "Can you sign the inside cover?"

"Sure?" You eye him suspiciously and lift the cover. When you look down to sign you're met with a ring embedded in black cushion that is set into the book that has been hollowed out in the center.

"One more thing," Shawn says and you look at him.

There is a loud gasp and a myriad of awes and chatter as the fans behind Shawn share what they've just witnessed. You feel like your heart is going to explode. Shawn takes the ring from the book and holds it delicately between his fingers.

"Will you marry me?" He asks with a smile so big he can't begin to hide his fangs.

You cover your mouth as you let out a soft sob of happiness. "Yes! Yes, a thousand times yes!"

Shawn slips the ring over your finger and walks around the table to hug you tight. "I'm so proud of you and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," he says softly into your hair, kissing your head between words. "I love you."

You grip his back and press your face into his warm chest, smiling uncontrollably while feeling like a weight you didn't know you were enduring has been lifted. "I love you too."

End

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

Thank you so much for reading. Please reblog to support so others can discover and read my stories as well. Thank you for your support, I can’t wait to write more stories! -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#stories #werewolf au

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radramblog · 3 years

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Radiohead Retrospective Part 5: I forgot what I was gonna call this one

The previous few entries in this retrospective have had a big old lead-in, about where the band was and how the next album came to be. This gets somewhat awkward now, as we discuss Radiohead’s fifth album, Amnesiac.

The issue is, this tracks on this album were recorded in the same session as Kid A, and it was released just over half a year later, so there isn’t as much to talk about. Kid A was, obviously, huge, but its success wouldn’t affect Amnesiac that much. I guess it got a bunch of music videos? Like, Kid A didn’t have singles, so it didn’t have either those or B-sides.

Regardless, despite being recorded simultaneously, Amnesiac is not truly cut from the same cloth as Kid A. It’s a titch more traditional and less electronic, bringing in jazz influences and classical stuff in addition to the electronica the previous album debuted. It also apparently has krautrock influences, but I don’t really know what that means, so perhaps we should just dive into it and find out.

Much like Kid A and Everything In Its Right Place, Amnesiac opens on an electronic line, albeit one that is slightly less iconic. Packt Like Sardines In a Crushd Tin Box (the spelling errors are not mine) is a substantially more muted introduction, driven by a scattered electronic percussion and a very low melody. The lyrics are pretty simple, but “I’m a reasonable man, get off my case” is kind of just a great, memeable line I’m sure people have had fun with.

Packt Like Sardines does unfortunately introduce us to a problem surrounding Amnesiac, and the discussion surrounding it. It is extremely often considered an outtakes album, a smattering of disconnected tracks, and I consider that completely unfair to the album’s design. However, Packt does inevitably invite comparisons to Everything, and it doesn’t compare favourably. I still really like the song, it’s soft and somehow comfortable in its coldness, but Everything is, well, everything.

This theme may continue.

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It is exceptionally frustrating that a higher-quality copy of this video isn’t available, because it’s really good.

There was a solid period where I considered Pyramid Song my favourite Radiohead track. It is impossibly deep, and beautiful, and above all else evocative. I have no idea why it’s called the way it is, a name echoing either geometry or the ancient past, but the little piano loop Pyramid Song is built upon is just…so much. The lyrics aren’t especially complex, but they manage to capture a very specific emotion of loss and grief, but of absolution, and just hnnng.

If you didn’t watch the video, by the way, go fucking do that. It might have the graphics of an early 00s video game cutscene, but it is genuinely as evocative and tragic as the song itself. Although according to the comments, Pyramid Song was apparently in Cyberpunk 2077, which on the one hand is cool it exposed a bunch of new people to this baller song, on the other hand it deserves so much better than being in that of all games.

I’m just going to say this ahead of time, I don’t think Radiohead captures beauty so well again until two albums from now.

We go from the utterly iconic Pyramid Song to the significantly less so Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors. I…really don’t know what there is to say about this one. It’s kind of an electronic soundscape more than a piece of music. It technically has lyrics, but they’re so heavily affected that it’s hard to see them as separate from the tune itself. I’ve spoken before about songs that are driving towards a point, that have a clear sense of forward motion from a repeating instrumental that feels like the consistent rattle of a train car. This song sort of has that, but without as much of the energy as those songs often have- it’s like a ride you have no control over. It’s basically fine, but I have no idea when I’d ever go out of my way to listen to this.

Also, what the fuck is a Pulk? That’s actually a word, I’m not getting a red underline like with Crushd, but I’m not sure if it’s an intentional misspelling or not.

The next song, You and Whose Army?, is something I remember as being way less subtle than it is. I mean the lyrics are very clearly directed at a person, and spoilers, it’s UK Prime Minister Tony Blair, but if you don’t know the period, or the band’s politics in general, it’s probably going to go right over your head.

It’s a song with two clear halves. One of them is quiet, muted even, subtle instrumentation over muffled vocals, and the second is swelling, and triumphant, powerful instrumentation over muffled vocals. The second half is a lot of fun, but it wouldn’t feel as paid off were it not for the first, so fair enough. I think I used to like this song a lot more than I do now, unfortunately.

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I Might Be Wrong is probably the most traditional song we’ve seen from this band in a minute, huh. A bass-driven track that is unquestionably a rock song, even with more electronic percussion and effects on it. Try listening to this with headphones, by the way- it’s extremely heavily panned, something I picked up on in high school since every pair of earphones I’d get would break in one ear eventually.

Despite the previous track’s eventual energy, I Might Be Wrong conveys the general mood of the album- that is, it’s pretty mellow? Even as the bluesy groove keeps going, the track never gets as intense as even say No Surprises. It’s a bit of a vibe, isn’t it? I especially enjoy the little Afterword the song has, it’s not much but I feel like it really adds to the track as a whole.

Wait how the fuck is You And Whose Army? more popular than this? What 23 million people pop that song on the reg? I don’t understand.

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Considering the subject matter of this song, and that I’d never watched it before, I was somewhat apprehensive clicking this music video. And…..yeah………..it sure is like that…..

Anyway so Knives Out is about eating people. Probably? That’s the text of it, the subtext is probably a fair bit deeper than that. Like taking advantage of what people leave behind in their absence in a more general, non-cannibalistic sense. Maybe.

I think this song is the most acoustic/least electronic song on the album? Save for one we’ll get to later, maybe. Its lyrics are kind of gross, but that’s allowed.

I’m somewhat frustrated by the lack of things I can think of to say, because I really like this song. It’s a lot like I Might Be Wrong, in that it’s a more chill rockier song than most of the album, but with a different sort of vibe. Uhh…yeah? Shrug? 8/10, would listen to again.

Anyway, we now hit Morning Bell/Amnesiac as track number 7, and it’s the least subtle reference to Kid A I guess you can think of. I mean, it’s a different version of the same song, much louder and more discordant. Bits of it sound like they could be comforting, but juxtaposed with some of the more distressing elements it’s a bit of a whirlwind.

I can comfortably say that Morning Bell/Amnesiac is A Good Song. However, I can’t really appreciate it as such, for a very silly reason. Since I thought the pun would be good, I had this track as my morning alarm for a very long time, and as a result, I cannot stand listening to it. Let this be a warning, never use a song you like to try and get out of bed, if you want to keep liking it.

Dollars and Cents is another sparse, low rock track that eventually builds into a bigger deal as it goes on. Honestly, it’s kind of hard to make out the instruments, a low cymbal line and loose guitar folding in on each other in the background. It, regrettably, doesn’t quite land on the same stick as many of the other tracks on the album, being basically fine but not really notable? And I think that’s the biggest difference between Amnesiac and Kid A, Amnesiac actually misses. Like, I always forget about In Limbo, but it’s unquestionably a good song. Between many of Amnesiac’s more experimental tracks not living quite up to snuff, and Dollars and Cents being largely okay, it’s no wonder why the album is often seen as the inferior follow-up.

This is not particularly helped by the ninth track, Hunting Bears, a loose guitar instrumental that doesn’t work nearly as well as Treefingers. It doesn’t have the vibe, and it doesn’t fit as cleanly in the middle of the album like that one does. It’s just, kind of, there. I genuinely usually skip it when I listen to this album, but I figured it wouldn’t be fair to do that here. It’s just, kind of, a miss. Pretty short, though- I could believe this originally having been part of Dollars and Cents, like a longer version of the end bit from I Might Be Wrong.

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While I know this is a video for both Pulk/Pull and Like Spinning Plates, I associate it more with the latter. Not only is the version of Pulk/Pull very different from the album, well, you’ll see why I think the LSP bit is more memorable.

I think Like Spinning Plates is extremely cool. If nothing else, it’s super interesting how they got this to work. The vocal effect for the first verse was achieved by getting Thom to sing the lyrics, reversing that recording, having him memorise how that sounded and perform that, and then reversing that into the final results. How cool is that? I think it’s cool. Also at some points in the second verse, they’re playing a forwards and backwards vocal track simultaneously, which is a really neat effect.

The instrumental is…hard to describe. Apparently, it was a result of trying to make I Will (which would release one album later), which they reversed and played with to get this track. If you’re very familiar with that song, I suppose you could hear that, but I can’t. I just sit back and appreciate the music.

Amnesiac’s final track is Life in a Glasshouse, easily its most bombastic and jazzy. This sounds like a cabaret closer, a swaggering tragedy, an exploratory rehearsal of a final track. It also kind of sounds like a mental breakdown, which, mood.

There’s like, a whole band on this thing. Horns and woodwinds, a piano and probably more than one percussion element. The clarinet (?) noodling on the song is incredibly fun, giving it an almost playful edge, undercutting the downtempo mood of the song, and keeping it from being such a dirge. Especially as the track builds towards its finale, it’s clear that there was a bit more fun going on here. Of course, it can’t end on such a climax, as that little stitch of paranoia that ends up being the album’s closing word manages to sneak through.

And that ends Amnesiac. Now, obviously, it isn’t as good as Kid A. It’s less consistent, it doesn’t have Idioteque, et cetera. But I don’t actually think the comparison is as one to one as often it appears people do. The styles of the albums are completely different- Kid A incorporating so much ambient and electronic noise while Amnesiac has more of the acoustic and jazzy stuff going on. The two albums may have released closely, and recorded even moreso, but they are extremely different beasts at the end of the day.

It’s far from my favourite album of Radiohead’s, but I wouldn’t fault anyone for having it as theirs, you know.

We’ll get to my favourite album next week, where we will also see if I can either defend or maintain that opinion. Hail to the Thief beckons.

#ramble #music #radiohead #amnesiac

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jowritesthingss · 3 years

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A Fondness for Rabbits

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing(s): n/a

Rating: Teen (for swearing)

Content Warning(s): rabbits, food/drink, mild(ish) swearing, not!Sasha, eldritch beings, spoilers through late s2 / early s3-ish

Length: 3,538 words

Brief Summary: Jon isn’t particularly keen on the Archive’s new rabbit mascot. (It would help if you read this first! But it isn’t required.)

AO3 link in reblogs bc Tumblr is annoying!

If he could, Jonathan Sims would absolutely be firing one Timothy Stoker right about now.

Unfortunately, it seems that for the moment, the both of them are stuck in some sort of limbo, working down there in the Archives.

Them and that damned rabbit Tim brought in to work.

Jon is certain, absolutely certain, that Tim only brought the thing into the Archives to bother him. It happened all too soon after they had their falling out and discovered that none of them can physically quit; there’s no way that it isn’t a coincidence.

Tim swears up and down that it’s only at the Institute because his flat doesn’t allow animals, and that it’ll be gone as soon as he can find a permanent home for it, but naturally Jon is suspicious—and rightfully so, he thinks. Perhaps Tim isn’t the one who murdered Gertrude, but that doesn’t free him from all suspicions. Jon still doesn’t know why he applied to work at the Magnus Institute. For all he knows, the rabbit could be the next step in some horrid plan of some sort.

Regardless of any possible ulterior motives, Jon knows one thing for certain—he does not want this animal in his Archives. He wants it gone, and he wants it gone yesterday.

He stresses as such to a seemingly uncaring Tim: “The moment you find it a different home, it goes. The moment.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Tim agrees placidly, and Jon huffs at that, satisfied enough for the moment.

Oh, but then Martin comes in, and Jon is tasked with the lovely job of explaining to Martin why Tim’s rabbit is allowed to stay when his stray dog wasn’t. And hell, Jon regrets this already.

He stares into the beady red eyes of the rabbit as it slowly, contemplatively munches hay in a corner of the break room. Well.

There’s nothing to do but avoid the break room from then on, yes?

...No. Unfortunately.

As the last person to leave at night, and the first person to get in to the Archives in the morning, Jon becomes the reluctant caretaker to the ridiculously furry animal that has begun to take over his Archives and win over his assistants.

Tim wheedles him solidly for a day, popping in at random times until Jon finally agrees to feed the rabbit every morning when he arrives and every night before he leaves. And Jon would say no, he really would, if it weren’t for Martin, annoying oaf he is with his big pleading doe eyes and his irritatingly effective pout. Jon feels the silent judgement radiating off of him every time he pops in bearing tea.

Of course, even if he can’t avoid the animal in entirety, Jon still tries to make his trips in to care for the thing as quick as possible.

He times it once out of curiosity and boredom while he waits for his laptop to finish a surprise update—he’s managed to get the whole routine down in under five minutes. Considering the routine consists of giving it hay, getting it a scoop of pellets, tossing it lettuce from the fridge, refilling its water, and tidying the litter box, he feels almost a bit proud.

It’s somewhat relieving, honestly, having something normal to express distaste at in between investigating his coworkers on possible murder charges and fighting weird worm people and stabby hand people and other supernatural stuff. It’s kind of nice, actually.

Jon’s not too sure he likes the way the rabbit looks at him, though. It’s a rabbit—it’s not like it’s all that smart, right? But something about it just seems so...so knowing. So otherworldly.

He’ll get the routine down to three minutes, Jon resolves. Anything to avoid the rabbit’s unblinking gaze.

The rabbit becomes Jon Jr, and Jon (now apparently Jon Sr—which, don’t get him started on that bit) becomes irritated. Well, even more irritated than he generally always is nowadays.

And yet...the rabbit seems to sense that it has been named after Jon, almost. It seems to take particular fascination with him, and he cannot for the life of him figure out why.

Whenever Jon is in the break room, the thing follows him everywhere, demanding pets and snuggles and gently nibbling at the tips of his fingers if he lets them drop low enough. So he goes into the break room less and less, expecting for it to lose interest in him or hopefully forget about or ignore him the few moments he does pop in—but the rabbit seems to become even more fiercely attached.

He knows the creature isn’t like this with the others. The rabbit doesn’t particularly like Sasha—it ignores her most of the time—and it outright bit Elias the one time he chanced in on it. It seems to like Tim and Martin a fair amount, but the moment Jon walks through the doorway it bounds over, refusing to leave his side and even trying to follow him out of the break room on a smattering of occasions.

Staring into those empty, beady red eyes, Jon could swear there is something ancient and eternal and knowing. But Tim refuses to get rid of the thing, and Martin would cry, and Sasha or Elias or probably all of them would corner him and lecture him unnecessarily about being too paranoid yet again.

Although, he could always take it to an animal shelter. The rabbit very literally eats into the Archive’s budget—the thing eats an absurdly large amount of hay. Then Martin keeps buying toys for it instead of getting the office supplies Jon has asked for just about twenty times (“what if he gets bored in there, Jon? did you know rabbits can get depression? I can’t let him get depression!”), and Tim’s determined to fatten it up with copious amounts of fresh fruits and vegetables (“only the best organics for my furred son!”).

He’s certain that he could logic it out—that if he reasoned and fought it, Elias would nod neutrally and let him get rid of it. Elias, for all he is suspect in Gertrude’s murder, seems to be the only one with a modicum of sense left in the place. Surely he’ll be on Jon’s side in this.

But when he casually asks Elias his thoughts on the matter, the man adopts an oddly amused expression and says he has no objection to an animal to emotionally support the Archives team (“especially considering the incident involving Jane Prentiss, Jon, it really might help boost employee morale”).

Jon is fairly certain that this is Elias’ stance only so that he doesn’t have to be held accountable for providing his traumatized employees with actual therapeutic aid, but he doesn’t mention it. Instead he angrily bites his tongue and excuses himself from Elias’ office before he says something stupid.

As he goes back down to the Archives and continues about his day, Jon puzzles through his predicament.

The shelter is still sounding like his best option, his coworkers’ opinions be damned. He’s always the last to leave at night and the first to arrive in the morning...perhaps he could wait until everyone is gone and take it to a shelter? Or maybe he could ask around the other departments to see if anyone needs a pet or—well, or snake food.

Although...some very small part of Jon hesitates at the thought of turning Jon Jr over to Artifact Storage or a snake or anything of the sort.

The rabbit seems almost scarily in tune with his emotions—perhaps more in tune than Jon himself—and it doesn’t seem to mean him any harm. Certainly it hasn’t attacked him with parasitic worms or stabbed him with ridiculously long, sharp fingers yet or anything like that. And, well, what could it even do if it did intend harm? Bite him? Pee on his shoes? Steal his lunch?

...Speaking of lunch, Martin keeps spilling chicken from his wrap on his pants. Jon doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the mayonnaise has also started to escape.

Abruptly, Jon stands up from the couch, throwing away his napkin and shooing the rabbit away with a foot as he wriggles his way out of the door to the break room.

It has to be because they named it after him, Jon concludes. That’s why he’s starting to get attached. That must have been their plan, and dammit, it’s working.

He’ll give Tim an ultimatum, Jon ultimately decides as he goes back to his office. Tim doesn’t have to know what Elias thinks about the situation. And he did promise that the rabbit would go when he found it a home. So either Tim finds the rabbit a home by this Friday, or it goes out to a local shelter.

...The rabbit has a home by Friday: Jon’s.

Jon can pinpoint exactly when it happens.

He works himself into a panic when Basira Hussein quits the police force, and he loses any chance he might’ve had at getting the rest of Gertrude’s tapes. And at this point his panic (and his bad luck streak) really isn’t all that surprising, but something about this one particular panic is bad. Really bad.

It’s late at night, and everyone has gone home (except perhaps Elias; Jon has no idea what Elias’ hours look like). Since there’s no one else there to notice him appearing even more frazzled than usual, Jon chances out of his office and into the break room for a glass of water. It ought help his scratchy throat and his shaking limbs and his buzzing head.

Of course, he’s forgotten about the rabbit entirely.

Upon shoving the door open and flicking on the light switch, Jon nearly jumps out of his skin to see the rather unpleasant reminder of the Archives’ pesky little visitor. It’s sitting directly in front of the door, staring expectantly up at him, almost as if it’s been waiting for him.

Unnerving as ‘Jon Jr’ is, the actual Jon’s exhaustion and want for water outweighs his suspicions in the given moment, so he continues forward, shuffling into the break room and very nearly staggering towards the counter.

Once he’s managed to get a cup down from the cupboard, Jon fills it with trembling hands, dropping it into the sink once and nearly dropping it across the counter once too. He turns around and nearly trips on Jon Jr, sloshing even more water out of his cup.

Despite being rained on, though, the rabbit doesn’t seem all that put out; rather, it follows him over to the break room couch, waiting almost patiently for him to sit down and get situated before it hops up and unceremoniously deposits itself in his lap.

“What?” he manages to sourly mutter at it, but he can’t muster up the energy to shoo the thing off of his lap.

So Jon sits there, in silence, drinking his water and attempting to ignore the rabbit.

His attempt does not go well. A few minutes into the stillness, the rabbit shifts, moving to face Jon. It presses its nose towards his torso, wiggling its way under the hem of Jon’s rumpled collared shirt.

Choking on a particularly large gulp of water, Jon makes a startled noise as the rabbit’s wet nose comes into contact with his bare skin.

Coughing violently, Jon tries to flinch away, falling sideways on the couch. His cup flies out of his hands—thank god it’s one of the plastic ones—and water splatters everywhere.

However, the rabbit doesn’t seem to be deterred by the sudden motion and his attempt to get away. It simply follows him, weaseling its way from his lap up towards his face. Its bright red-eyed stare burns into Jon.

Jon flinches as the thing looms in front of his face, sucking in a desperate breath. Oh, god. There’s no one for him to call out to, no help to be had. Oh, god. Is it truly some sort of—of monster—after all? Is this it? Is he about to die?

The rabbit presses forward...

...and begins to lick his nose.

As Jon lies there, frozen into some sort of terrified shock, a vague part of his mind recalls a memory of the rabbits that his grandmother’s neighbor had kept, all those decades ago. Licking someone is a rabbit’s way of kissing them, and licking someone’s nose...that’s one of the ultimate signs of love, isn’t it?

The rabbit continues to lick his nose—nothing more, nothing less. No biting, no clawing, no attacking. Just licks. Just kisses. Just...love?

Jon’s racing heartbeat slowly begins to calm down. He lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and he allows him to fall back into the couch, relaxing his tense limbs.

The rabbit follows him as he leans into the back of the couch, clambering up onto his chest.

For a moment Jon tenses up again, unsure of what it’s planning to do, but all the rabbit does is settle comfortably onto his chest and resume licking his nose. The weight of the animal on his chest somewhat reminds him of the Admiral, back when he’d lived with his former girlfriend Georgie, and it feels...nice. Calming, almost, soothing and lessening the sheer panic he’s been feeling for the majority of the day.

“You’re not....” Jon’s voice cracks; he inhales a shaky breath before trying again. “You’re not so bad after all, are you?” He licks his lips before he cautiously tries out the rabbit’s name. “...Junior.”

Jon reaches a wobbly hand up towards Jon Jr. He stares intently at the rabbit, waiting for any sign of alarm or ill will. Seeing none, he places his hand hesitantly on Jon Jr’s back. When the animal shows no sign of startling or moving to dislodge his hand, Jon slowly begins to pet him in short, stilted strokes that quickly become more confident as the rabbit kisses his nose more fervently.

“I suppose...I suppose you can stay for...just a bit longer,” Jon murmurs into the rabbit’s warm fur. He cautiously strokes Jon Jr’s cheeks, chancing a small smile when the rabbit closes his eyes in pleasure.

And if he falls asleep there on the break room couch, there with the comforting warmth and weight of the rabbit he’d set out to hate and instead fallen hopelessly in love with—well. Nobody was there in the Archives to see it, now were they?

Too much happens all too fast, in a blur of time and terror. Melanie King limps in on Jon acting much too immature (in his defense, Jon Jr is...difficult to resist when he wants kisses), but the worry over whether she’ll ruin his reputation or not is quickly washed away by the cold terror of realizing that Sasha is not Sasha.

Suddenly there’s an axe in his hand and an oddly swirling tabletop in his sights, and then suddenly Tim and Martin are interrupting him mid-swing, Jon Jr nosing around their ankles.

Then they’re surrounded by splinters of wood and the grotesque, distorted yells of the thing that is not Sasha, the thing that was not ever Sasha, and there’s a yellow door, and a thing with too-many-too-long hands holding out for a deal.

And then they’re running.

Martin gets lost, Jon isn’t entirely sure when—was it back in the twisting halls of Michael’s domain, or down in the twisting tunnels of Smirke’s creation? everything is blurring together at edges tinged with fear—

—and then it’s just him, and Tim, and Jon Jr, and the thing that had been, had been wearing his assistant’s life like some sort of costume, and oh. This is it, isn’t it? They’re about to die, aren’t they.

At least Martin will survive to tell their tale, Jon hopes, feeling a rush of remorse at how abruptly and patronizingly he’s treated his poor assistant. He could’ve been—he could’ve been dead and gone, replaced like Sasha, and Jon never would have known. And now—now Jon is the one about to die. Him and Tim.

God, Tim. He doesn’t particularly like Tim. Tim has been satisfactory enough as an assistant, he supposes—had almost been a friend once, back in their research days—and now....

Now they back into a dead end, practically hugging the wall as not!Sasha slowly approaches them with a look of manic glee on its face. And Jon...he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, regardless of how much he does or doesn’t like them. Certainly he wouldn’t wish this end on Tim...even if a small, selfish part of him is glad that he’s not alone in the end.

It’s just him and Tim. Just like it was back with Prentiss.

Mouth falling slightly open, Jon turns towards the man in question—perhaps to weakly comment as such, he isn’t really sure—only to see Jon Jr leaping out of Tim’s arms.

“Junior!” The word is tugged out of him, unbidden. Dammit, he’s grown attached to the rabbit. And dammit, there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as the rabbit obliviously makes his way towards the hungry thing that had pretended to be Sasha. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Only—

Only then, the rabbit isn’t a rabbit.

It happens much too fast for Jon to really get a good glimpse at what their rabbit becomes. But there’s a loud cracking noise, then a monstrous blur of gray and limbs and mouth and teeth, then another crack and then...nothing. Not even not!Sasha remains. Just a smallish white rabbit in the middle of the now-empty tunnel, sitting primly and licking at one paw.

Jon and Tim gape at each other and at the rabbit, but one thing is for certain:

“...We’re keeping the rabbit,” Jon murmurs, light-headed.

“I—yeah.” Tim nods, and he slumps back against the wall and slowly slides down to the floor of the tunnel. A hand reaches out and snags Jon, dragging him down with, and there, leaning against the wall and each other, the two stare at the not-quite-a-rabbit.

“We’re keeping the rabbit.”

The rabbit-but-not-a-rabbit blinks his innocent red eyes up at them before flopping over to rest, and honestly? Jon thinks Junior has rather the right idea there.

And so the rabbit is kept, and Jon and Tim stagger out of the tunnels minus one not!Sasha but still with one not!a rabbit.

Come to think of it, they’re still down one Martin as well, which is admittedly worrisome.

Neither Jon nor Tim is exactly keen to go back in the tunnels so soon after escaping certain death within them. Jon has never been the most athletic of people—he’s an academic, he’s supposed to be sitting behind a desk all day, for christ’s sake—and his legs feel like jelly beneath him as they debate over calling the police.

Tim is of the mind that they should call the police, or at least Basira, whom he stubbornly still refers to as Jon’s “girlfriend” (and Jon is much too tired to dispute that at this point). Jon, on the other hand, doesn’t think even section thirty-one officers would listen to “we went into a door a monster created in a wall and we lost our coworker in a maze of endless passageways.”

Thankfully, it turns out that they needn’t have worried, because Martin turns up not too long after, dizzy and dragging two other people behind him.

One of them is a familiar face—Helen Richardson, whom Martin apparently had picked up while stuck in Michael’s spiralling labyrinth, and who seems quite content to latch onto Martin and sit firmly in one spot in the center of the place, refusing to pass through any doorways whatsoever. But the second person is an unfamiliar face—an aging, gray-haired man who seems impeccably polite, incredibly calm, and increasingly out of place among the dinge of the tunnels and Artifact Storage.

Then the man introduces himself as Jurgen Leitner, and Jon nearly drops Jon Jr.

But Jon is much too tired to deal with that in the moment, so when Martin tentatively suggests a slumber party of sorts in the Archives to ease his, Helen’s, and Leitner’s worries all in one, Jon gives in without the fight he normally would put up.

As the others assemble bedding and piles of pillows and cushions pilfered from the library chairs, Jon manages to snag the break room couch once more for himself...and for Jon Jr.

Jon has absolutely no idea what, exactly, he’s supposed to do now. There are clearly bigger things at play here—or, at least, Leitner seemed to think so, from the little he said before Tim shut him up and sent him to bed—but as he watches Jon Jr nibble on a cucumber peel, Jon feels a bit better, at least, knowing that one of those bigger things might at least be on his side.

(Or, well. Hopefully he can bribe mister “bigger thing” with enough carrots to stay on his side. That is yet to be seen.)

Fin

First || Next

I just have so many stupid ideas for this ridiculous AU that I couldn’t just let them live in my head...so I might as well scrawl them out and let y’all enjoy them with me, right? (Or you can tell me to shut tf up if these get too dumb or annoying for you asdhjkl)

But yeah, as you can tell, Jon Jr’s presence will be messing around with canon, because I take any and all opportunities for fix-its. I just really miss my boy Tim and also my wife Sasha ok so sue me

Want to chat or be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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nyctolovian · 4 years

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Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder.

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…"

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood.

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition."

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity.

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question.

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them.

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime.

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again.

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear.

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips,

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled.

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm."

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone.

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring.

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions.

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for.

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!"

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call.

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder…

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat.

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table.

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight.

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing.

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity...

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

#magpod #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #witch au #royalty au #fantasy au #ace jon #nb jon #tma fanfic #my writing

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whiskeyworen · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on Kralkatorrik

Fair warning. Gonna be dealing with lots of spoilers from Season 4. These are just my musings and thoughts, so feel free to reject them. Most of this is coming from mulling a lot of stuff over and over in my head to make sense.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Kralkatorrik lately, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s possibly one of the most utterly tragic entities we’ve ever encountered in Guild Wars 2. The Elder Dragon of Rage and Crystal...being the most tragic, pitiable, and sad beings I’ve ever seen. I was thinking about how Glint mentioned that at some point in the past, Kralkatorrik had approached her, driven by a vision he wanted her to confirm or deny. It was the vision of a world without Elder Dragons, without him. She claimed that the concept terrified him and drove him into a rage, and whatnot. But I’m wondering about that, simply because of what we know from War Eternal, from his final confessions to the Commander and Aurene. About not fearing death, not fearing anything. So why did Glint say that he WAS afraid? It made me wonder.... when did he have that vision? Was it shortly before he spoke to Glint about it? Or was it further back in history, in the forgotten, unwritten ages? Which made me think further; Glint had the gift of prophecy. To look through the skeins of fate and see particular outcomes and work towards them. But she couldn’t see past a certain point, because that point did not include her in it. In fact, from the memory crystals we find in Path of Fire... when she met Destiny’s Edge, she was surprised: “These heroes are...not what I expected. Do they have the courage to endure what's coming? The will to drive it back? “ I think that’s because the group she DID expect was Dragon Watch...from further down the timestream. She knew it was a group of mortals coming, with a sylvari, a charr, a human, and an asura...among others perhaps...but the group before her didn’t look quite right. She misinterpreted her own vision, and as a result, Destiny’s Edge tried to fight Kralkatorrik too early. Glint and Snaff died as a result. But... Kralkatorrik, for all his size and power, could have easily smeared or branded Destiny’s Edge. He didn’t though. Rytlock talks about having been close enough to ‘blow kisses’ to Kralk, but Kralk didn’t end up killing them in the end. Because that wasn’t part of the grander Vision. Back to the point, we know Aurene has prophetic visions, and looked through multiple outcomes to try to find one where she and her allies didn’t die against Kralk. And failed. Because that was a historical point that HAD to be met and bypassed by something not shown. Which made me wonder... if Aurene is prophetic to a degree, and Glint moreso, to the point of seeing decades, centuries down the road with some degree of accuracy (not perfect but pretty good)... did that mean Kralkatorrik could as well? Could he, by extension, see extremely FAR down the road, but perhaps not have the refinement to see any other paths? I suddenly had this idea that Kralkatorrik, in the far ancient past before he became the Moving Mountain Range of a Dragon, possibly when he first evolved up to a more powerful state, had had the greatest, deepest, and longest Vision. One that he saw all the way to the end of his own life, so many millennia down the road. And that it didn’t terrify him. It didn’t anger him. It just was. It was unavoidable (because he didn’t know HOW to avoid it, without wrecking the balance of the world himself, which he would have been very aware of), but it was tremendously far off. He could do almost anything and easily avoid it... but yet he didn’t. He took on the role that had been set for him. Perhaps he’d been granted a vision of where someone referred to him as the Elder Dragon of Rage and Crystal. Seen his own, enraged actions in later millennia. So he put that on as his image, projecting a false rage, but one honest enough to convince generations of mortals. Maybe even mixed in a bit of actual rage, because who likes being shackled to a fate they can’t alter? To be denied choice? With his Brand, over the passing of years, he could have easily reworked all of Tyria every time he awoke. But we see little if any of his influence other than in the Brand itself. And the Brand is a pretty permanent mark on the landscape. Pretty sure something like that doesn’t fade in a century or two. There should be entire swathes of landscape still bearing Brandmarks from the previous Risings, but there doesn’t seem to be. What if, just maybe... he was following a long list of events he had to make sure happened, to ensure that particular future came to pass. The one with Aurene, the Commander, the Pact, and Dragonfall itself? Every other Elder Dragon (barring Jormag, who claims to want only to be left alone, just ignore the ice minions) when they awoke tried to expand their territory as far as possible, and conquer and devour all in their path. But when Kralkatorrik awoke, he only burned a path straight south, and parked himself near the Tomb of the Primeval Kings. For YEARS. He drove south, and then sat somewhere. The only time he left that spot was to ‘confront’ Destiny’s Edge. As the Long Vision said he must, because he HAD to. He had to let Glint be un-linked to him for years, only to be forced to re-take her and her ending up dead because of it and the resulting battle. He had to watch as essentially his daughter died, knowing he could have left her alone and alive. But having to do it because if she lived, the Vision would go off-path, and the end result would be less-than-acceptable. So Glint dies, Snaff dies, and Kralkatorrik nurses a long, painful hurt that he knew was coming for ages. Imagine knowing that someone you cared about would turn on you, and you had to kill them. Imagine knowing, even worse, that that was the GOOD outcome. The one that HAD to happen. Mortals knew of him as the Crystal and Rage Dragon, because that was the image he had to plant in their minds. They HAD to hate him. They HAD to fear him. Fate needed them all bound together in a force strong enough to take him down, and he was the needle that sewed it all together through dozens of smaller, unseen movements over the years. Towards the end, after he’d absorbed all those toxic magics that he had no hope of containing, no hope of filtering and releasing in the ways that Aurene had been taught, because no one had ever taught HIM how to do it in ages past... He’d been almost insane with pain. But even then, he was still trying to follow the script. He knew he had to do...things... even if he wasn’t truly sure what they were. After such a long life, there must have been moments of ‘is this the part where I....’ by the dozens, but he probably knew his time was up, and knew he HAD to resist hard enough for everyone to be fully convinced of it. He had to fight back against us, because the script demanded he do it. So that there would be enough anger that we (the Commander, Aurene, the Pact) would not hesitate, not pull any punches, show no mercy.... Because it was the right thing to do. Kralkatorrik knew ages before that he was going to die, where, and how. Maybe not When, but one only needed to look to the events that would unfold to pick the proper time. He knew he would be hurt every stage of the path. From the loss of Glint, and possibly Vlast (the grandson he’d never properly met), to having to Brand Aurene to set her on her proper path. From Branding Ascalon and countless living beings to make the Charr, and by proxy Tyria hate him enough to fight him hard enough to make the Future possible. To facing down Balthazar when he frankly didn’t need to, even knowing Aurene was in that Warbeast, and being injured by it. Even chasing Aurene through the Mists, and into Thunderhead Keep, and then retreating back into the Mists to recupe some strength...that was only so there’d be time for Aurene to recover and gain her true abilities. He could have easily levelled the mountain, and instead he left...because Fate demanded he do so. There was no anger in him at the end. Only love for Aurene, regret for Glint, and possibly even those he’d Branded (I’m interpretting it that way because it’s very possible he did like Mortals, but because of his role in Fate, he HAD to kill and Brand them, and that hurt.), relieved resignation that he was at the end, and gratitude. In a way, all the horror, all the pain he caused... all the destruction, as oddly limited as it was compared to other Elder Dragons... was all FOR Tyria and the world. He played the role of mindless villain, because it was his destiny, and he could not shirk it. Could not see another way out that was beneficial to the world. So he took up that dark mantle, and wore it, and never let anyone else know, not even his own kin. Right till the end. Even Jormag never caught on. That’s how well he played the role. It’s impressive...and haunting. To knowingly do horrible things even though you don’t want to, but because it’s absolutely, 100% necessary. And to know it’s going to cost you Everything, right down to your own life... but everything will come out better for it afterward. I’m not even sure I’ve explained the scope of this thought properly. But it digs at the back of my mind now when I play through PoF, and Season 4. I can’t un-think these thoughts, not after hearing him at the end of Dragonfall. Hearing that he KNEW, and had always known, and was unafraid of it.

#gw2 #gw2 Season 4 #gw2 season 4 spoilers #War Eternal #Kralkatorrik #Fate #Personal thoughts #musings #LONG POST WARNING

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Written In The Stars XLV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Poor kids, they’re not so little anymore.

Words: 2,707

Warnings: Mentions of period (as in menstruation)

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Four: Back In The Routine.

The days passed and they finished packing.

Mel tried several times to get an answer from her uncle about where he was going, but he would change the subject just as fast.

She was worried, to say the least. If he moved even further away that'd be problematic for Mel and her mother. Considering how often her uncle gets sick, it was almost bound to be tricky, and now that she was attending Hogwarts, the chances of helping were slim.

Her uncle didn't seem to be thinking about that though, he did act nervous, and Mel had noticed he'd started to read magical books more than usual, most of them about creatures and curses and all that. She wondered if he was thinking of going on some kind of dangerous trip. Either way, it was time to say goodbye, and Mel knew she wouldn't be seeing him for a while, maybe until next summer.

She was getting ready to bed when something felt odd. She'd been feeling uneasy the whole day, but thought it was just the nerves and excitement of seeing her friends again. Thinking that maybe she'd gotten sick, the girl got out of her room and into the bathroom.

It was worse, way worse than she'd thought it would be.

Mel had gotten her period.

"Oh no," She breathed, "no no no no no no..."

A knock startled her.

"Yes?" She said in a high-pitched voice.

"Is everything alright?" Uncle Lu asked, "You've been there for a while–"

"I need Mum," She said, "I'm- I'm having a bit of uh... I got my... I'm bleeding?"

There was a deafening silence after her sentence. After what felt like decades to her, Uncle Lu finally spoke up.

He cleared his throat, "I'll call her. You... you wait here..."

She was still a little girl... Okay not that little, but she was a girl! Girls didn't have periods!

Or did they?

"Love?" Her mother called softly through the door, "Can I open the door?"

After a short confirmation, the door clicked and her mother entered holding a small package of something she recognized immediately. Mel started to cry.

"S'not fair!" She sniffed, "I don't like how it feels!"

"Oh, darling..." Her mother kneeled beside her, stroking her back. "I know is not nice, but it'll pass..."

"I don't want it!" She continued, "There has to be some magical fix that you can give me!"

"There is," Her mother grimace, "but I can't give it to you, this is the first time, you have to let it happen–"

"Why?! It sucks!" She didn't know why she was so affected about it, as if the worst of diseases had fallen upon her.

"It could damage your body if you cut it out so soon..." her mother cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable, "I don't know if you'll want babies, but it's better to have all the options than having none, right?"

"Babies?!" She said with horror, "I am a baby! I don't even know if I'll want to date!"

Emily's lip quivered, but it was hard to tell if it was because she was holding her laughter, or if she was just as affected as the girl.

"I don't want you to grow up either, Mel. But it looks like your body has a different idea."

Mel leaned back on the toilet, looking up at the ceiling in total despair.

"This is it. The boys will know."

Her mother laughed.

"They won't. But who cares, anyway?"

"I do!" She frowned. "And I'll have to deal with this nonsense! How long 'till I can take something to make it stop?"

"A year," Her mother said, preparing for impact.

"A YEAR?!"

"Shh! Mel, you'll scare your uncle!"

"A year," She repeated, "oh, bloody- I mean... this is going to be a horrible year."

Once she was tucked in bed, sad as ever, her uncle sneaked inside her room, holding a cup of something.

"Chocolate," He said simply, before leaving again, "drink it, it'll help."

She stayed silent for most of the trip, sleepy and soar, didn't want to talk about it. It was sad to leave her uncle like this, but she hoped he understood, Mel was growing against her will.

When they arrived at the leaky cauldron, Mel wanted nothing but to take a nap for the rest of the week, but she soon forgot about it when Harry walked down the stairs, probably about to go shopping.

She dropped her luggage in surprise, the noise catching his attention.

"Glasses!" She rushed over to the boy. "How've you been? Did you miss us lots?"

Harry chuckled as he returned the hug.

"I've been busy... How was your break from my annoying face and all?"

"It... went well, most of it anyway," She shrugged, deciding she wouldn't say a thing to Harry about her new burden. "Are you going to Diagon Alley? Mum! Can I go?"

Emily approached the kids, giving Harry a quick kiss and hug before replying.

"Just try to get here before dinner, I'll take the things to our room..."

Both kids went to the back door and pressed the third brick on the wall.

"There's a new broom," Harry started, practically dragging her to the store, "you ought to see it, I want to ask about the price but I won't dare, I have my nimbus after all, but it's just... you need to see it."

They stopped at the shopfront, Harry pointed eagerly to the broom facing them.

Mel gasped when she saw it. It was truly impressive, the way the wood and every little branch was shaped so perfectly. Its name was Firebolt, and Mel loved it.

"Woah..." She leaned closer, it looked like she was trying to go through the glass, "should we ask? Just to know- I know I wouldn't be able to afford it... not that I need it since I'm not on the team but... wow"

"I know," Harry agreed.

"Harry! Mel! HARRY!" A voice called from a few feet away.

Sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, were Ron and Hermione, both waving at them.

"Finally!" said Ron once they approached them. "We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkin's, and —"

"I got all my school stuff last week," Harry explained. "And how come you knew I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"You didn't tell them?" Mel frowned.

Harry seemed taken by surprise by her question.

"I only told you..."

"Dad told me," Ron replied casually.

"Did you really blow up your aunt, Harry?" said Hermione seriously.

"I didn't mean to," said Harry while Ron and Mel laughed. "I just — lost control."

"It's not funny," said Hermione sharply. "Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"Oh, I am too," Mel nodded.

"So am I," admitted Harry. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested." He looked at Ron. "Your dad doesn't know why Fudge let me off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" Ron chuckled. "Famous Harry Potter and all that. I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up an aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig me up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you can come to King's Cross with us tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

"Mum and Dad dropped me off this morning with all my Hogwarts things."

"Excellent!" said Harry. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling a long thin box. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. And we've got all our books —" He pointed at a large bag under his chair. "What about those Monster Books, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two."

"What's all that, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione had three full bags of books.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Hermione. "Those are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, the Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies —"

"What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about Muggles!"

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione.

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry.

Ron laughed. Hermione ignored them.

"I've still got ten Galleons," she said. "It's my birthday in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a nice book?" Ron asked innocently.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol —"

"I haven't," said Ron. "Errol's a family owl. All I've got is Scabbers. And I want to get him checked over," he placed Scabbers on the table. "I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

"Poor thing," Mel mumbled, then added, "I need to buy my stuff too, just got here from visiting my uncle..."

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," said Harry, pointing to his left. "You could see if they've got anything for Scabbers, and Hermione can get her owl. Then we can get your stuff, Mel."

"Well, if you don't want a replacement, you can try this rat tonic," said the witch, reaching under the counter and bringing out a small red bottle.

"Okay," said Ron. "How much — OUCH!"

Ron buckled as something huge and orange came soaring from the top of the highest cage, landed on his head, and then propelled itself, spitting madly, at Scabbers.

"NO, CROOKSHANKS, NO!" cried the witch, but Scabbers shot from between her hands like a bar of soap, landed splay-legged on the floor, and then scampered for the door.

"Scabbers!" Ron shouted, racing out of the shop after him; Harry followed.

"How pretty!" Hermione approached the cat as the boys ran out of the store.

"Uh-oh," Mel whispered, "Mione, are you sure?"

"Crookshanks has been here for ages, you know," The witch lamented, "he's got an awful temper, that's why..."

"Has he?" Hermione asked, deeply touched, "but is he in for adoption?"

"Yes," The woman said with hopeful eyes. "Are you interested?"

"I am," Hermione beamed.

"Mione," Mel said with caution, "that cat went straight for Ron's throat."

"He just got excited," Hermione brushed off, "I'll take him."

"You bought that monster?" said Ron, his mouth hanging open.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" said Hermione, glowing.

"Hermione, that thing nearly scalped me!" said Ron.

"He didn't mean to, did you, Crookshanks?" said Hermione.

The cat purred happily in her arms.

"At least Grey will have some company now," Mel added.

"And what about Scabbers?" said Ron. "He needs rest and relaxation! How's he going to get it with that thing around?"

"That reminds me, you forgot your rat tonic. And stop worrying, Crookshanks will be sleeping in my dormitory and Scabbers in yours, what's the problem? Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he'd been in there for ages; no one wanted him." She said as she offered the tonic to Ron.

"I wonder why," said Ron sarcastically.

"Let's move on," Mel pushed him away from the girl, "I got some shopping to do..."

"Harry! Mel!" Mr. Weasley said as they entered the leaky cauldron. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks," said Harry.

"How are you?" Mel asked politely.

Mr. Weasley put down his paper, Harry spoke up before the man could reply.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" he asked, pointing at the picture in the Daily Prophet. Sirius Black.

"Hey!" Mel's eyes widened. "That guy was on the telly!"

"Well of course he is," Ron rolled his eyes. "He's just as dangerous to muggles as he is to us."

"Who is he?"

"He's a murderer!" Ron replied eagerly. "Quite crazy, they said they killed about ten–"

"No," said Mr. Weasley, interrupting his son and giving him a severe look. "They've pulled us all off our regular jobs at the Ministry to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"Would we get a reward if we caught him?" asked Ron. "It'd be good to get some more money —"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," said Mr. Weasley. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

Mrs. Weasley got inside the place, followed by the rest of her children. Ginny, as usual, got very red when she saw Harry, barely capable of muttering just a greeting. Percy, however, was outdoing himself.

"Harry. How nice to see you." Percy shook his hand with utter formality.

"Hello, Percy," said Harry, glancing at Mel and trying not to laugh.

"I hope you're well?" said Percy still on the same tone.

"Very well, thanks —"

"Harry!" said Fred, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy —"

"Marvelous," said George, pushing Fred aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled.

"That's enough, now," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred as though he'd only just spotted her and seizing her hand too. "How really corking to see you —"

"I said, that's enough," said Mrs. Weasley, depositing her shopping in an empty chair.

Mel laughed, unable to stay quiet any longer. The twins noticed her presence and dropped the act, ruffling her hair in their normal attitude. She hugged both of the boys, truly happy to see them again.

"Hello, dears. I suppose you've heard our exciting news?" Mrs. Weasley pointed to the brand-new silver badge on Percy's chest. "Second Head Boy in the family!"

"And last," Fred muttered to Mel, though he did it loudly enough for his mother to hear.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, snorting. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

"Besides, you'd have to punish yourselves all the time," Mel teased.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," said Percy. "I'm going up to change for dinner..."

As he left the room, George added. "We tried to shut him in a pyramid, but Mum spotted us."

"Pitty," Mel rolled her eyes, but grinned anyway. "I bet Egypt was fun..."

"We got so many new ideas!" Fred replied, putting an arm around her shoulders and guiding her towards the stairs, "Hear us out..."

"I don't want any part on it, just to set things clear," Mel shook her head, "I'm starting new this year! I told you Dumbledore offered to give me extra lessons? I can't set a bad example now!"

"Oh, don't be dull," George scoffed, "don't tell us you're planning to be Head Girl or something..."

"Maybe," She shrugged, "I told you, you can't judge people just because they don't have the same goals..."

"Well, that's just a terrible idea," Fred shook his head, "A Head Girl! Think of all the possibilities you're throwing out! Behaving like a good student won't leave enough fun memories for when you grow up."

"Yeah, what're you going to tell your kids?" George inquired. "All your stories will be about your study sessions and the grades you got– That's boring."

"I don't know if I want kids!" Mel snapped, her talk with her mother coming back in full force.

"Don't upset her," Ginny had followed them upstairs, she managed to push her way in between George and Mel, and was now grabbing her arm, pulling her away from Fred's grip. "It's my turn to talk to her, go away!"

"You saw that?" Fred said with wide eyes, "The disrespect!"

"You give them freedom and this is how they pay you," George shook his head, "okay then, we'll leave you..."

"Come on," Ginny said to her with excitement, "I'll show you all I got from Egypt!"

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @thesuitelifeofafangirl @kylosleftbuttcheek @steve-thotgers @tomshollandz @reverse-hxlland

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #ron weasley #hermione granger #ginny weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #WITT fic

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atleasttheresthis · 4 years

Text

Project Partners (Song x Katara)

Happy day two of ATLA wlw week! This one is for the academia AU.

content warning: alcohol

@atla-wlw-week

"So, in conclusion, you and your partner will research one new surgical or oncological technique from the last five years on any of the cancer types I've included here. You'll have three weeks to complete the project." Professor Pakku pauses, lifts his eyes from his notes and turns them on the horde of bleary eyed, eight am lecture suckers in front of him. "Any questions?"

Song, who is just as tired and out of it as the rest of her classmates at 8:30 on a Monday, studies the powerpoint slide in front of her, struggling to write down all the project requirements before Professor Pakku moves on from the assignment and starts the day's lecture.

"Before you ask, Taedo," the Professor is saying from the front of the room, "no, I will not accept any late papers. If you would have read the syllabus I distributed at the beginning of the semester instead of no-doubt chucking into the garbage as I'm sure you did, you would know my policy on late assignments."

Song grins to herself as Taedo slumps down in his seat. Pakku is something of a hardass, but since Song mostly keeps to herself and stays out of his way, she's never had a problem with him. Besides, his course on cancer treatment was super popular among the pre-med and nursing students. It would take a lot more than verbal abuse to get Song to give up her seat in the course. She needed the elective to finish her third year of the nursing program at Ba Singh Se University, and since she wanted to work at a cancer ward after graduating, this course was practically a requirement.

From the front row, Katara pipes up. "You could just put the syllabus online."

Pakku sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose while Song rolls her eyes. For the entire semester, Katara seems to have made it her mission to make the Professor's life difficult, and it drives Song crazy.

"I suppose I could, but my ancient and old-fashioned ways make it quite difficult for me to use the computer, or so you told me in class last week." Even from her spot in the middle of the room, Song can hear Katara harumph.

"Any other questions?" Professor Pakku asks, then sighs when Katara shoves her hand into the air. "Yes, Katara?"

"I've noticed you didn't include the breast as part of the infected areas we could study," she begins, but the professor interrupts her.

"Yes, thank you for proving, yet again, that you know how to read," Pakku says easily. Song winces. Lately she’s found herself unable to focus in this class, devoting her energy instead to either silently cheering on Professor Pakku in his misguided quest to get Katara to be quiet for more than five minutes so he can teach, or silently (always silently) commending Katara as she points out Pakku’s rampant sexism. Their relationship confuses the shit out of her, and while right now she finds herself inclined to defend the student (because wow, that was a really asshole thing to say, Professor), she thinks both of them go way too far.

Either way, it’s threatening to wreak havoc on her GPA.

Unaffected by Pakku’s rudeness, Katara presses the point. “That’s sexist,” she says bluntly, and Song finds herself nodding. “We should be able to study whatever cancers we want to. Just because you want to ignore all the stuff that only affects women doesn’t mean we want to.” She stops for a moment, considers. “Also, will we be able to pick our own partners?"

Pakku seems to have lost his temper. "You know what, just for that, everyone else gets to pick their partners, except for you. You will be paired with," he stops, consults the class list on his podium. "Song Ma."

Um, what? Song lets out a breath, unable to believe her shit luck. Everyone in the course turns around to stare at each other, wondering who the unlucky girl is until they catch Song's face. She knows she's got a completely disbelieving, what the fuck look on, so much so that Pakku actually smiles when his eyes catch hers. He gives her a small shrug, evil grin totally upstaging his non-apology. "Good luck," he adds helpfully.

Katara sniffs, turns back around in her chair. Song resigns herself to the inevitable. It's obvious there's no getting out of this one.

***

Song finds Katara waiting in the hallway after class. Slugging her backpack over one shoulder, Song steps forward and introduces herself. "Hi. I'm Song." She briefly considers holding out a hand, then stops herself, raising it to stifle a yawn instead.

"I know," Katara says snobbishly. Jesus, this is going to be like pulling teeth, isn't it? Biting back a rude reply in kind, Song asks "do you have any ideas for what you want to research?"

"I want to research the use of dye to identify positive lymph nodes in breast cancer patients," Katara says immediately, and Song sighs. "Look, I know you're apparently cool with being on Pakku's bad side, but I don't need a shitty grade on this report because you can't pick your battles and have to stick it to the man whenever you have the chance." Katara looks a bit surprised by her outburst. Whatever. Song's grade is on the line, she's not going to risk it for some girl with a death wish, even if she is really pretty, skin somehow looking shiny and gorgeous even under the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

"I'll talk to Pakku," Katara offers begrudgingly. "See if he'll officially allow us to go beyond the project parameters."

"Fine, go ahead," Song relinquishes. Katara hadn't asked if she had any ideas, but whatever. "Your funeral."

Katara cracks a smile. "Is that okay, or did you want to research something else?"

Song is so surprised by Katara's thoughtfulness, by her apparent ability to reach into Song's head and pluck out her inner monologue, that she merely shakes her head. That's alright, though. Lymph nodes are fascinating enough.

"Cool," Katara says. "I'll swing by his office hours today and let you know how it goes." Song nods, watches Katara walk away, and realizes she never even gave the other girl her phone number.

Oh well. They have three weeks to work it out, and she'll see Katara in class on Wednesday.

Song shrugs to herself, walks out of the biology department toward the squashy chairs on the ground floor of the science building to get some reading done before her next class.

Later that day, when she's studying with her housemate Bohei after lunch, an email pops up on her phone.

Hey Song,

I talked to Pakku, he'll let us do the breast cancer project without deducting anything from our grade.

Let's find a time to talk soon so we can figure out how we should divide the work. I can handle the research part of it if you want to handle the conclusion and summary.

-Katara

Song is furious. Why is Katara relegating her to the easy stuff? Doesn't she think Song can do good work?

"What's wrong?" Bohei, one of her housemates, asks from across the table. Song reads her the email. "Isn't that the stuck up girl that's always getting into fights with the professor? Sucks that you're paired with her."

"The professor put us together," Song explains. "Ugh. Why won't she let me do the work on this project? I'm smart, I can handle a research paper!"

"I actually think you're in a golden situation," Bohei says, reaching over to snag a few of Song's chips from an open bag on the table. "Just let her do all the work, if she cares about it so much you'll probably get a good grade, free A for the project."

Song shakes her head. "No, I want to help, I can do it. Why doesn't she think I can help?"

"Why do you care?" Bohei counters, raising an eyebrow. A great question, but Song is not in the mood for self-reflection.

"I, I don't," Song splutters. "I don't care, I just, I just don't think it's fair that she's doing all the work alone! And besides, how do I know she'll do a good job?"

"Okay," Bohei says, giving Song a look that says she knows what a flimsy excuse that is. Why does Song care what Katara thinks of her? She's just some know-it-all who can't leave well enough alone. Song emails her back, tells her she's free for dinner, and gets a reply a few minutes later that Katara will meet her at the dining hall. Song tries to push the other girl out of her mind, turning back to her chemistry notes.

It's no use. By the time dinner rolls around, Song is simmering with indignation over Katara's assumption that she couldn't help with the project. She packs up her stuff, trying to tune out Bohei's pointed questions (the other girl had gotten over her instinct to leave Song alone about it and has instead spent the rest of the afternoon asking if Song likes Katara, like, like-likes Katara???) and begrudgingly makes her way over to the dining hall. After swiping her school ID to get in, she sees Katara at a table with a plate of food. Sighing, resigning herself to a confrontation, Song heads over there, dropping her bag onto an empty seat.

"Hey," she says, monotone, and Katara looks up. "Hi," she says back, a bit startled, but Song's not exactly giving her the best attitude.

"How was your day," Song asks rhetorically, and Katara raises an eyebrow but whatever, Song is just being polite.

"It was okay," Katara answers, tossing some of her long brown hair over her shoulder. Song likes it this way, better than when she puts it in the long braid that snakes down her back. "How was yours?"

An awkward moment, where Song has lost herself staring at Katara's hair. She realizes the other girl has asked her a question, and gives herself a shake. "It was fine too," she answers quickly.

"Do you want to get a plate before we start working?" Katara asks.

Song agrees, gets up to scour the dining options for something to eat. She ends up with a bowl of pasta, some carrots, and a glass of water. Reaching Katara again and sitting back down, Song pulls her laptop and notebook out of her bag before spearing a piece of pasta and angrily throwing it into her mouth.

Katara, oblivious this time to her anger, has gotten out a laptop of her own. "So, I already made a google doc, I'm sharing it with you now," she says, and Song moves to check her email, loading the document on her screen. "Like I said, I can handle the research part and you can do the conclusion, is that okay?" Katara asks, not even looking up from her computer.

Song takes a deep breath. "No, it's not really okay," she answers in a rush. That makes Katara look up. "I can help with the research part too, I think I can handle it," she says drily. "I just don't think it's fair for you to do so much of the work," she tacks hurriedly, wanting Katara to think she's doing this for more noble reasons than wanting the other girl to think she's smart.

"Oh, it's okay, I don't mind doing the work," Katara brushes Song off, turning back to the laptop.

Song groans internally. "Katara. I can help. I want to do some of the work on this project, it's my grade too," she reminds her.

Katara looks at her skeptically. "Alright," she concedes finally. "Here, want to look over some of the sources I've already gathered?"

Song takes another bite, nodding. They spend the rest of the evening compiling journal articles and studies on the use of dye to identify positive and negative lymph nodes in the armpit. It's not half as bad as Song thought it might be, both girls are focused on the work, and after an hour and a half they have enough to start working on the paper. Song drafts a preliminary outline, which Katara approves of after making only one or two small changes, and then they call it a night, agreeing to meet up again later that week. Song packs up her bag feeling good, they got work done. And she's definitely proved to Katara that she's smart enough to hold her own. Not that she cares about any of that.

***

As the week goes on, Song finds herself enjoying her study sessions with Katara more than she'd like to admit. For all her sharp edges in class, she's surprisingly laid back when she talks with Song. She's got a sharp sense of humor, and the way she vivisects Pakku and some of the other asshole idiots in their class causes Song to nearly pitch a fit. About the work itself, she's pretty anal, but Song's own standards are exacting themselves, so it's not like she can complain.

They meet again on Wednesday, but it's on Friday that Katara tells her that she's pre-med and plans to become a breast cancer surgeon. Her mother died of breast cancer, and she wants to work so other people don't suffer like she did. It only seems natural to tell her about her father's fatal car accident, in turn.

"Is that why you want to become a nurse?" Katara asks quietly. She doesn't say she's sorry, and neither does Song. What good would that do?

Song blows out a breath. "Maybe?" she offers. "I don't know. I just know that I'm good at this, I'm good at helping people when they're hurt, and if I can do it, shouldn't I?"

Katara nods. "I understand," she says, and Song gets the feeling that she really does.

***

By Friday night it becomes obvious to both Song and, unfortunately, Song's housemates, that their girl is quickly becoming enraptured with Katara. "What do I do?" Song moans into a chocolate chip cookie that D'wei made to cheer her up.

"I thought she was annoying," he asks, topping up his glass of cheap, Barefoot wine, before handing the bottle to Song.

"No, she's still annoying," Bohei chimes in. The three are sitting in their kitchen, Bohei painting her nails at the table and Song in the chair next to her while D'wei perches himself on the countertop.

"But she's annoying in a hot way," Song whines. She gives herself a generous glass of wine, her third of the evening, then slumps over the table, cheek pressed against the wood.

"Haven't you only met with her like, twice?" D'wei asks. Song opens her mouth to respond, but Bohei beats her to it.

"D'wei, come on. Song's a, you know," and she holds her wrist at shoulder height and bends it so her arm flops over.

Song chuckles, face mashed into the table.

"A what?" D'wei asks, and Bohei rolls her eyes.

"A lesbian," Song mumbles. "Exactly," Bohei says, nudging Song's head with her elbow. "Falling in love inside thirty seconds, that's classic lesbian behavior, you should know that."

"That's our M.O.," Song agrees. "Song's done that four times in the past year and half," Bohei continues.

"And once with a boy, but we don't talk about that," Song says. "But Katara's different, I can tell."

"She's stupid beautiful, I'll give you that," Bohei adds, capping her nail polish and blowing on her nails to dry.

"I know," Song grumbles, shoving the rest of the cookie in her mouth. "How do I tell her I like her?"

Bohei shrugs. "You could play 'girl in red' while you guys study, that will probably clue her in," D'wei suggests.

Song wrinkles her nose. "Too obvious," she answers. "Japanese Breakfast, then?" he asks.

Song thinks on it. "That one might work, actually."

"Hope so, or else you'll just have to pine from afar," Bohei stands up, blowing on her nails to dry them. "Or grow a pair and tell her you like her. Are we watching a movie or not?"

"We're watching," D'wei says decidedly, while Song moans, hopping off the counter and pulling Song into the living room by the wrist. "Don't worry, we'll watch something that's not about romance so you won't feel bad."

Song scoffs but settles herself on the couch between them nonetheless. D'wei's assurance turns out to be a complete lie, and they watch Pride and Prejudice, but whatever, Song's totally not thinking about Katara while the movie plays.

"Hey, Song, do you want Katara to stroll determinedly toward you through the morning mist wearing that exact unbuttoned shirt?"

Shifty silence from Song. "She does! D'wei, she does!"

"It would be super romantic," Song mumbles.

"Holy shit! Dude, you'd better tell her how you feel, or your ovaries will shrivel up!"

Eye roll. "I'm pretty sure you can only say that about people with dicks, Bohei, it's not like Katara's going to get me pregnant."

"But you want her to!"

***

On Friday, the week after their project was assigned, Song blinks the rain out of her eyes, holds her phone to her chest to keep it relatively dry under her bowed head and stares blearily at Google maps. Picking her head up she squints at the street signs, turns left, and then finally spots a sign saying "The Jasmine Dragon" above what looks like a small but cozy shop across the street. Grateful to have finally found the place, after trekking halfway across the city. Song had finished her exam earlier than expected, and with her and Katara's project deadline coming ever closer, she'd texted the other girl to see if she had any free time to work on it right now. Katara had agreed, saying she was studying with some friends at a place called the Jasmine Dragon. So here Song is.

Hurrying into the shop, Song relaxes after getting out of the rain, pulls the hood of her jacket down and snakes her braid out from where it's pressed uncomfortably between her backpack and her shoulder blades. The Jasmine Dragon tea shop is well-lit against the downpour, filled with comfortable armchairs dotting the room in twos and threes, with one long table at the back of the shop. Seated at the table are a few people working quietly by themselves, along with Katara and what must be her friends, working not at all quietly. Katara is sitting next to a boy who looks enough like her to be her brother, along with two people Song doesn't recognize, a boy with a completely bald head and shorter girl next to him. And--

"You!" Song shouts, then looks around herself, embarrassed, as she realizes how loud that was. Blushing a bit, she takes two sharp strides toward the table and says "you!" again, in a much smaller voice.

The boy on Katara's other side, with a nasty burn scar across his face and a Jasmine Dragon employee apron on, mutters "oh, shit," under his breath.

Katara is looking at Song, confused. "Hey Song, this is Zuko. How do you--"

"You're the asshole who stole my bike!" Song says angrily. Bike thief, whose name is apparently Zuko, goes bright red.

The shorter girl across from him lets out a laugh. "Oh man, Zuzu, you have the worst luck!"

"Shut up, Toph," Zuko mutters, eyes anywhere but on Song.

Katara lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Just once," she says, "just once, I would love it if someone recognized you from something nice you did for them, instead of whatever dick move you pulled."

"Never gonna happen, sweet sister!" The boy next to her crows happily. "Our Zuko was an asshole in a previous life!"

"Last year was a previous life?" The bald boy says, half-serious, and then high fives Katara's brother uncertainly.

"Fuck all of you," Zuko says. "He's doing his best," the shorter girl says dramatically, then slugs Zuko in the arm.

"Wait," the bald kid says, turning to address Song. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes," Song says through clenched teeth, "I saw him leave a party at my house on my bike last year!"

It was one of the only parties Song and her housemates had thrown that semester. From what she can remember, Song spent a good portion of the evening trying to get close to the moody boy who was drinking alone in her kitchen. She had definitely tried to flirt with him, she remembers, cheeks going red, before Bohei had pulled her away to do shots. At the end of the night Song had passed out on their living room sofa. She woke up some time before morning at the sound of the door closing to see the moody boy, who was definitely Zuko, pick the lock on her bike and ride away on it, but she was too drunk to realize what had happened. In the morning, it was too late. Nobody else seemed to remember the boy, and she had no luck finding it.

Back in the tea shop, the bald boy is trying to defend Zuko. "That doesn't sound like something Zuko would do," the kid says, a bit soothingly.

"No, it does," Katara counters. The shorter girl nods while Zuko hangs his head.

"Yeah, that was me." He admits. "Look, I'm really sorry. I...was in a bad place that year, and I was super drunk, and--"

"Yeah, whatever, " Song says, uncomfortable with his honesty. "Are you going to give it back or not?"

"Of course he's going to give it back," the bald kid says enthusiastically. Song wonders who died and made him group spokesperson.

"Wait, do you even still have it?" the other girl asks. Song notices that she hasn't been making eye contact or even turning her head to look at anyone talking. She catches eye of the cane lying next to the girl's chair and realizes she must be blind.

"Yeah," Zuko says uncomfortably. "I woke up the next morning and, I, uh, didn't know what to do with it? So I just...kept it in the garage." He runs a hand through his hair uncomfortably. "It's still there."

Song, who has dropped her bag to the floor and started peeling off her jacket, throws up her hands. "You haven't even been using it?"

Zuko coughs. "No?"

"Ugh!" Song shouts, furious that he didn't even seem to need the bike.

"Look, I'll, I'll bring over to your place tomorrow," Zuko says placatingly, standing up. Song shoves past him and falls into his empty chair. "Yeah, maybe you should have tried doing that eight months ago, when you drunk-stole it from me," she deadpans, before turning to Katara. "Are we working on our project or not?"

Katara looks like she wants to keep laughing at Zuko's expense, but stops herself when she sees Song's face. "Uh, yeah, sure. Guys, this is Song, from my biology class. Song, this is Aang, Toph, and my brother Sokka." She points to the bald kid, the girl, and the dark-skinned boy next to her in turn. "You already know Zuko."

Song grits her teeth. "Song, I--" he starts helplessly.

"Zuko!" Someone calls from the back of the shop. "A little help back here?" From behind her, Song hears Zuko sigh. "I'll see you guys later," he says, before walking away. "Let us know if anyone else accuses you of something awful!" Sokka calls out after him gleefully.

"Or if something else from your dark past comes up to bite you in the ass! I want to start a facebook album!" Toph adds, and Song snickers, despite herself.

"Sorry about Zuko," Katara says carefully. "He was in a really bad place last year."

"So I've heard," Song says drily, fishing out her notebook and a pen.

"I'll make sure he gives you the bike back," Sokka offers. Song nods minutely.

"Why don't you guys get out of here," Katara says after a moment. "It's not like you're getting any work done."

Sokka opens his mouth, clearly affronted, but Song beats him to it. "No, you guys don't have to go, it's okay," she starts, but Aang catches onto Katara's meaning and has started packing up his stuff.

"No, Katara's right, we'd just waste your time," he says easily. "Come on, Sokka, Toph, we can study at my place."

Sokka sighs dramatically, but helps Toph get all her stuff together nonetheless. "Ugh, fine." Then he shoots his sister a sharp grin. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Katara splutters indignantly while Toph cackles. Song can’t even begin to guess what that means. “Nice to meet you, Song!” Aang calls over his shoulder before tailing Toph and Sokka out of the shop.

Song raises an eyebrow in Katara’s direction. “Ignore my idiot brother,” she says hastily, dark skin growing rosy with a blush. Maybe Song does know what that means.

“Do you want something to drink?” Katara continues quickly. “The weather is so shit outside, a hot drink will probably make you feel better.”

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Katara,” Song says, rolling her eyes but letting a grin escape so the other girl knows she’s playing. katara’s face lights up as she sticks her nose in the air. “Well, I’m studying to be a doctor, so I don’t know what they cover in nursing school.” She gets out of her chair and flounces towards the counter.

“You don’t even know what I want,” Song says half-heartedly, eyes on Katara’s ass. “You’ll like what I get you,” she says airily, half-turning to catch Song in the act of looking. Song blushes again, but boldly meets Katara’s eyes. The other girl smirks, before turning to the woman at the counter and rattling off something Song can’t hear.

When Katara returns a few minutes later, steaming mug of tea in her hand, Song has unpacked her laptop and is half-looking over the work they’d done so far. She passes the mug to Song. “Thanks,” she says gratefully, warming her hands against the bright red ceramic of the mug. “How did you guys find this place?” She asks, fighting off a yawn. Holding onto the warm tea has suddenly reminded her how tired she is.

Katara takes the seat across from her, picking up her own cup. “Zuko’s uncle owns it,” she explains. “Zuko’s really sorry about your bike, I know he is,” she says earnestly, casting a glance across the shop at him moving around in the back. “He went through a lot in the past year, he used to be such an asshole, even to us,” she adds. “But he’s alright now.”

Song doesn’t know what to say, can’t quite believe her, so she takes a sip of her tea instead. “Oh, it is good,” she said, surprised. Katara smiles in satisfaction. “Uncle Iroh thought you were a fruit tea girl, but I told him different. Guess I was right.”

It’s cheesy, it’s so, so high school, but Song’s stomach flutters at the idea of Katara knowing what sort of tea she’d like. It's got her tongue tied, but Katara saves her by asking about her day.

“It was good,” she answers. “I finished my international relations exam early, that’s why I texted you that I had time.”

“Well look at you, smartypants," Katara says, and Song scoffs. They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, sort of but not really working on their project, until Sokka comes back to pick up Katara and gives Song a ride back to her apartment.

"See you tomorrow!" Katara calls through the car's open window. Song shoots her a confused look. "When Zuko and I come to return your bike!" She reminds her. Song agrees, but doesn't think anything will come of it, which is why she's so surprised to open her apartment door at eight o'clock the next morning to see Zuko and Katara in her doorway, bike in hand.

"Good morning!" Katara says triumphantly, and Song stares. Katara, she, she looks so incredible Song can hardly believe it. Her hair is perfect and shiny, and she looks like she's wearing extra eye makeup. Zuko, meanwhile, looks like how Song feels, bedraggled in comparison. "Told you we'd bring you the bike!" Katara says excitedly, while Zuko yawns next to her. "Here, here you go," he says, steering the bike into Song's apartment. "Uh, thanks," Song answers slowly, leaving the bike by the door.

"Put your shoes on, we're taking you for breakfast," Katara instructs, and before she realizes what's happening Song finds herself in the back of Zuko's car, sitting next to Katara and behind a girl Song vaguely knows from one of her politics courses last semester, who Zuko introduces as his girlfriend. Song thinks Mai is way too cool a girl for someone like Zuko, but keeps her mouth shut.

"Go to the diner on fifth," Katara instructs, and in front of Song Mai scoffs. "No way, their coffee is garbage."

"All diner coffee is garbage," Zuko offers from behind the wheel, and behind him Katara says "I want pancakes. We went to your shitty coffee shop last time."

"It's not shitty, you just don't appreciate aesthetics," Mai sniffs.

"It's overly minimalist and their cake is bad," Katara says bluntly, before turning to Song. "What do you want to do?"

Song blinks, slightly overwhelmed at being thrust into this dynamic of people who were clearly comfortable in each others' lives. But also, it's early, so: "I want to eat eggs."

"Diner it is, you're outvoted, Mai!" Katara crows happily.

"You didn't ask me what I wanted," Zuko protests, already steering the car in the direction of the diner. "We know you're happy with either one," Mai explains.

"Always happy when I'm with you," he says to Mai, and Song can see his face in profile, he's offering Mai a small smile. Mai meets him halfway and gives him a quick kiss.

"Eyes on the road," Katara interrupts, pulling a face to make Song laugh in the backseat. It occurs to her that this might be something of a double date.

And it's definitely a date, she realizes, or she hopes, because Katara has squeezed herself next to Song onto the vinyl covered cushion of the diner booth, and keeps knocking her knees into Song and, once, even holding her thigh flush against Song's. She eats off Song's plate with no remorse, encourages Song to do the same to her, and quietly flirts with Song for most of the meal. It's enough to give Song a pleasant whooping feeling in her gut that lasts the whole day.

The restaurant environment is certainly helping, Song loves diners. The way they all sort of look the same, the ridiculously long menus, the poor lighting, all of it. It's her and her mother's favorite place to go, and when she lived at home they used to go there almost every day, even if it was just for a cup of bad coffee. Song feels at home here, which is why she loves the diner so much.

Besides Katara's flirting, Song actually has a good time enjoying Mai and Zuko's company. Maybe he really was a different person when he stole her bike and ignored her at her own party, because now he's making an effort to include her in the conversation, filling in the gaps into which she might have fallen, being the odd one out in a group of friends who knew each other so well.

"We went to school together first," Zuko is explaining, gesturing to himself and Mai. "A different school, actually, one our parents wanted to go to. It was really close to our hometown. Caldera College."

"Our parents are in business together," Mai says. "Well, my father works for his father."

"And my father wanted me and my younger sister, Azula, to work for him too. But that, uh, didn't work out…" his hand moves to the scar on his face, and Song stifles a wince. "So I left the old school and came here. Well…"

"His Dad cut him off," Katara butts in. "But it was actually a good thing, here I met these guys." Zuko says with a small smile.

"Didn't start off as a good thing," Katara mutters, and here Zuko blushes, tilts his face to the table. "Yeah, those were my uh, my bike stealing years," he grimaces another apology at Song.

Katara yelps, it seems like Mai has kicked her under the table. "But we're good now," she adds brightly.

"Like I have to keep reminding you," Zuko says, raising his eyebrows, and now it's Katara's turn to look chagrined. Song wonders at their need to air their dirty laundry in public.

"And then I decided fuck my parents' business and followed Zuko here," Mai declares, setting her hand on top of Zuko's.

Song nods. It's a lot to process. "What about your sister?" she asks, wondering if this is the right question.

Maybe not. The emotion runs from Mai's face like colors in the wash, her mouth settles into a dull line. Zuko sighs, and, next to Song, Katara huffs out a breath. "We're working on her," Katara explains.

"My Dad was working her to the bone, putting way too much pressure on her after I left," Zuko says. "Especially after I left," he adds to himself, and on the table Mai squeezes his hand. "She snapped, dropped out," Mai picks up from him. "We're trying to make sure she gets the help she needs."

"That's really hard, I'm sorry you have to go through that," Song offers, and Zuko nods. "She'll be okay," he says, face determined.

An awkward pause, but the first of the meal and the plates are nearly clean, so that's a success. "You don't have any siblings, right Song?" Katara asks.

"Mm-mm," Song shakes her head. "Just me and my mom," and Katara nods, which she was expecting, but then Zuko does too, and maybe they have more in common than she'd thought.

"Mai has a younger brother," Katara volunteers, and Mai rolls her eyes but tells them an adorable story about Tom Tom regardless.

"That was...nice," Song says truthfully, when they've dropped her back at her place and she's got Katara on her doorstep.

"They're alright, huh? I thought you'd like them," Katara says happily.

Song, feeling warm and full of eggs and lukewarm coffee, has the confidence to say "maybe they're not the only ones I like," eyes catching Katara's before dropping to her doorstep.

"Yeah," Katara says softly, hand reaching towards hers. "I--"

She's cut off by the sound of the horn. Katara turns and Song sees that Mai's got a hand on the horn while Zuko sits by looking pained. Katara gives them the finger before turning back to Song. "I like you t--"

The horn again. "Katara, let's go!" Mai shouts, and Katara rolls her eyes and Song smiles. "I'll see you at our next study session?" she offers.

"Yeah," Katara says, looking relieved, "I'll see you then." She waved goodbye, bounds off the porch toward the car, opens the back door while yelling "jesus christ, Mai, I'm here, calm down."

Song unlocks the door of her house, still smiling, and heads inside.

***

Katara and Song meet, one last time, to go over the paper. It takes them ages, both of them are deliberately dragging it out. They go through it one line at a time, taking turns reading the paragraph aloud and double, triple checking the references. When it's finally over, i's crossed and t's dotted, Katara's hand hovers over the trackpad of her laptop, mouse on the 'submit' button. "Are we ready?" she asks one more time.

"You're sure it's cool with Pakku if we do breast cancer?" Song clarifies, and Katara scoffs. "Oh, actually Song, I forgot to tell you, he's not cool with it and we're going to fail. Whoops!"

"Okay, okay," Song laughs. "We're ready, do it."

Katara takes a deep breath, clicks the trackpad. Project over.

"It's in the lap of the gods now," Song comments, and Katara nods, shutting her computer.

"Now what should we do?" she asks, and for the first time she's almost shy. It's utterly adorable, the light blush under her eyes, and Song steals herself and says "well, I'd like to kiss you now."

Katara stiffens beside her. "You should definitely do that," she says hastily, and Song laughs, reaches up slide her hand into Katara's hair and leans in, catching her lips.

It's perfect. Katara tastes like everything Song had imagined plus more. When she pulls back Katara chases her lips. "I think you should give that another go," she murmurs, and Song laughs again, happy to oblige.

It's even better the second time. They kiss for a while, lazy, and afterward, when they're resting their foreheads against each other, Katara speaks up.

"I think I'm going to take you on a proper date," she muses.

"I'd like that," Song answers happily. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

#kira writes #avatar the last airbender #song #katara #song x katara #zuko #mai #zuko x mai #atla wlw week #atla #college au

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