#i did explode a glass bowl by my brothers stupidity (he put it on the stove) exactly a week ago but. its fine

[carcinized]

i have to go do irl stuff (already had to go do irl stuff) so i cannot finish the stream rn, i will later instead of studying its fine

[nomsugayoongi]

Off My Face. - Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook X Female OC (nameless)

Tags: FLOOOOOOOOFFFFF. Slight angst but mainly just sappy, ridiculous fluff. ("She" is SO into him) And smooching. Think of this as the warm up before the straight up filth starts. :p

She walked outside in silence with Namjoon close beside her. He'd realised quickly that this wasn't a light-hearted situation to poke fun at. She looked troubled and it worried him. He stayed quiet, following her to the very bottom of the garden. She wanted to get as far away from the house as possible due to her irrational but overwhelming fear of someone overhearing. She settled on a picnic bench among some trees at the very end of the garden. Namjoon sat on the table itself with his feet on the bench. "What's going on?" He questioned. She sighed with exasperation. "God, I don't even know. It's so stupid." She groaned. She felt like a complete tool. "Ok, I'm just going to ask you something. Did you sleep with Jungkook?" Namjoon asked.

She frowned, shaking her head emphatically even though the very suggestion made her stomach clench. "But something happened between you right? Last night maybe." He wasn't exactly sure what it was but he was definitely sensing a shift in their relationship. She continued to shake her head. "No, nothing happened. Literally nothing. But..." She broke off and shrugged. "But...you want it to. You like him." He finished. She nodded. "I don't get it Namjoon. He's Jungkook. I've known him ages. I've never even slightly looked at him like that but...last night. God, when he walked in it was like the light dimmed around everything else. He changed right? While I was gone. Something happened to him. Something must have. He's...so different." She muttered. Namjoon smiled slightly and shook his head. "Not really. He's made a couple of changes to his appearance I guess but...that's just Jungkook becoming more fully who he is." He mused. She glanced at him with a slight smile. Namjoon could always be counted upon to speak pure sense. "But then why the sudden attraction? If he is the same guy I left 3 months ago, how come I can't look at him now without my insides going nuts? They didn't before I left. My insides did nothing. Now it's like my heart is trying to physically beat itself out of me so it can get closer to him. It's dumb. I literally can't handle how...sexy he is. He's like this whole new person to me. He's the damn maknae. He's the baby. Unthreatening, sweet little Jungkook. Now he walks into a room and it's like a pheromone bomb explodes in my face and there is not a fucking thing i can do to keep my hormones in check. He walks in, I check out. Full mental shutdown for anything that isn't related to him. I'm like...possessed of something. Can't see, can't hear, can't think anything else. Just him. And my head is taking me on this fully realised, sense-surround journey of me and him. Thoughts of him...in ways I didn't even know I COULD think about him." She shook her head, the floodgates opening and everything she was thinking and feeling just spilling out. "This cant be happening Joon. It just can't. I can't feel this way about him." Namjoon smiled, "Why not? He's not seeing anyone. You know that. Maybe you should talk to him. Tell him what's going on" he suggested. She shook her head rapidly. "Ohhhh no. Nope. No way. Can't. What the hell would I say? Oh Jungkook, I Lost my damn mind in England and now you're crazy hot. Wanna make out?" Namjoon laughed heartily. "Maybe don't word it that way. But you know you can talk to him. He's Jungkook. He'd get it. And maybe it would help you to feel not so crazy. You can't keep this to yourself." He said. She shrugged. "Have to. I can't tell him Namjoon. I don't even understand it. And hey, it could be just like....a fleeting thing. Quick infatuation cause i've missed you guys." She mused, not actually believing it at all. And apparently Namjoon didn't either. "Well... Are you having these feelings about any of the rest of us?" He questioned. "No." She replied. "Exactly. I don't think it's just cause you've been away. I think you've realised that home wasn't what you thought it was. Going back to England showed you how much has changed and now you're back here where you belong, your eyes are opened to other things that might not be what you thought they were. Like Jungkook." He offered. She hummed thoughtfully. It did sound plausable. But the part of her that didn't want to engage in this messiness threw up defences. "But why him? He's Jungkook. I'd get it if it was Jin or you or..Shugs even. But he's the baby. He's the least threatening of all of you. Except maybe Jimin and that's only because he's actually made of rainbows." She joked. Namjoon smiled and shook his head. "But he isn't. I think this is why you feel like he's changed. Jungkook isn't a kid anymore. We've all joked about the Maknae. But he stopped being the baby years ago. He's grown. He's an adult. The changes... The tattoos and piercings and hair. He doesn't want people to see him as a kid anymore. You thought he

was safe because he fit into a nice little box of being the baby. Now he's challenging that. And it's not just how he looks. He's more...in control of himself. He's putting out hard that he's grown. You're just...picking it up!" Namjoon explained. She huffed, dropping her head between her hands. "Well he needs to quit it. Things were simpler when he wasn't threatening. His new sexiness is offensive to me. I feel attacked." Namjoon laughed and she raised her head, smiling slightly. She knew she sounded childish. "I really think you need to talk to him." Namjoon suggested. She sighed, shaking her head again. "I can't. It's too messy. And he'd feel weird about it and it'd make it awkward and I don't want that. It'll pass. This time next week we'll be laughing about this conversation." He could hear the hopeful tone in her voice but wasn't convinced. convinced In all honesty, Namjoon thought she'd be great for Jungkook. He needed someone to balance him out. He was too hard on himself. Overly critical about everything he did, from starving himself before video shoots to completely breaking down if he made the smallest mistake. He needed someone to bolster him. To show him how he actually was. Not what his critical mind told him he was. It was a running joke that Jungkook was good at everything but Namjoon didn't like where it seemed to be going. He worried for his youngest brother. He felt that her affections could be exactly the thing Jungkook needed to calm him down. To show him that he didn't need to try so hard. He was enough. He needed someone to adore him for exactly who he was. And she was perfect. And Jungkook was perfect for her too. He could ground her. Show her that even though this wasn't where she was born, it was where she belonged. Show her that she wasn't an outsider. He could anchor her. Give her the confidence she was so desperately lacking. They would be so perfect together. But he could tell by her expression that this wasn't a conversation that she was willing to hear right now so he kept it to himself. "So what now?" He questioned. She shrugged, looking defeated. "Dunno. Just wait for it to pass I guess. Namjoon, please don't say anything to the others." She asked, looking suddenly panicked. He smiled, jumping off the picnic table and pulling her into a hug. "Of course not. But if you need to talk about it..." She nodded against his shoulder, suddenly overwhelming thankful to have such amazing people in her life. "Thank you Namjoon. I don't know what I'd do without you." She whispered. He laughed, tightening his hold on her. "You never have to find out" he said comfortingly. ----------------------------------------------------------- Weeks passed. Her feelings didn't. If anything, they were getting stronger by the day. Being around him was painful. Being away from him was worse. She was convinced that she acted differently when he was around. She felt more distracted but Namjoon assured her it wasn't noticable to anyone else. Her cover was still in tact even though she was sure that every interaction with Jungkook turned her into a spazz. They'd planned a movie night. She was going to cook for the boys, something she loved to do then they were all going to crash out in the lounge and binge watch films. After a day of shopping for food and prepping, she was ready for a relaxing night. It was extraordinary how much food those 7 guys could put away. Even after overestimating and cooking what she thought was way too much, they still managed to finish everything. She picked at her food. Cooking always made her lose her appetite and honestly she was just tired. She wanted to collapse on the sofa and zone out for a while with the comforting noise of her favourite people around her. As the meal finished, she began to gather up the plates and clear away. It could have waited until the following day but she thought she might as well do it then while she still had a scrap of energy left. With a tower of plates and bowls balancing precariously on her arm, she teetered into the kitchen and started loading the

dishwasher. She'd have to go back out for glasses and serving dishes. She smiled to herself, listening to the rabble coming from the guys as they moved into the lounge and fought over who got what seat. She heard the kitchen door open behind her and figured it'd be Namjoon or Yoongi. Generally If she was doing something, they helped. She turned and saw Jungkook wandering into the kitchen with a stack of serving dishes. He was balancing them on one arm while eating the remains of the top dish. "How are you still eating?" She chuckled, shaking her head. He smiled sheepishly with a shrug. "I can't waste good food." He replied with his mouth still full. She rolled her eyes, having a moment to enjoy the warm feeling that filled her tummy when he looked happy. "You didn't eat much. Are you ok?" He asked, the concern he expressed marred slightly by the giant amount of noodles he was trying to stuff in his mouth. "Yeah I'm good. I'm just not hungry. I'm always starving when I start cooking and by the time I've made it, I don't want it." She explained with a smile. He dumped the dishes on the counter next to her pile and turned to her, leaning against the worktop. "Are you sure you're ok? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages" he said softly. Her heart fluttered as she turned to face him. There was a moment of silence where she contemplated her answer. A tiny part of her was telling her to tell him how she felt about him. The vast majority of her was screaming to keep quiet. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Yeah...I'm ok. Tired I guess. And a little cold. Maybe I'm getting sick." She shrugged. He nodded slowly, the expression on his face was difficult to read but it made her stomach churn nervously. She turned to the dishwasher, distracting herself from his gaze by stacking the plates. "Leave that. We'll clean later." He said. She felt his hand on her back and almost jumped out of her skin. She straightened up and steadied herself. He'd taken off his white hoodie and was holding it out to her. "You said you're cold." He offered. A wave of affection surged through her as she looked at him. His soft brown eyes studying her carefully. She tilted her head to the side, taking in how beautiful he was. Not just in looks but In general. "Jagi" she whispered, barely audibly. The endearment left her lips without her even noticing. His eyes widened slightly for a second then a shy smile tugged at his lips. He pushed his hoodie into her hands. She took it, pulling it over her head, the smell of him enveloping her. As she straightened the hood and pulled out the yellow drawstrings, he stepped closer, untucking her hair from underneath the hoodie. He straightened her hair then paused, catching a loose strand from her forehead and pushing it away from her eyes, tucking it carefully behind her ear. "Sit with me?" He asked. She looked up at him, her heart hammering as she nodded. "Mmm hmm" She followed Jungkook into the lounge feeling slightly dazed. Maybe it was the lack of food. Maybe it was the brief interaction she'd just had with him. Maybe it was a combination of both but she felt...different. Her tummy was squirming but in a good way. She felt...warm. Her interactions with him were usually tinged with nervousness or fear. Would she slip up? Would she say or do something that gave her away? But at that moment she just felt peaceful. She just wanted to be with him. Wherever it was or whatever they were doing, it didn't matter. The guys were already sprawled over the sofas and Yoongi was arguing with Jin over what film to watch first. Jungkook picked the corner of the largest sofa, nudging Namjoon further over so there was space for her. She didn't miss the knowing smile Namjoon flashed her as he relented what was arguably the comfiest spot on the sofa. Jungkook sat, patting the space beside him which she took happily. He threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. The arguement about which film to watch ended, the lights were turned off and silence fell as the movie began to play. She wasn't paying any

attention to the film whatsoever even though she was technically looking at it. She was too lost in her thoughts to actually notice what was happening. She'd watched films and cuddled with the guys numerous times. Jungkook included. But she felt so different. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. His face illuminated by the screen. She could seem him gasp at a cool part or laugh at a funny part. She felt every movement when he stretched or wriggled. His arm moved from round her shoulders and rested between them as he slumped further down on the sofa. She watched his hand gradually move closer to her leg. She moved her hand closer to his, using her little finger to trace the letters tattooed on his knuckles. She saw his face break into a smile and he straightened out his fingers, making it easier. She traced each letter slowly, then the crosses between, then the BTS logo. He chuckled softly and she glanced at him. "Tickles" he mouthed. She grinned, stopping her tracing. "Sorry" she mouthed back. He shook his head. "Nice" he muttered. He turned his hand over so it was palm up and she smiled, turning her attention back to his hand to trace the lines across his palm. He sighed quietly, resting his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. He liked the attention. He needed it. He'd been feeling pretty down on himself over the past couple of weeks. He'd noticed that she'd been avoiding him and it bothered him. He couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong and though he felt the constant need to apologise to her for it, he didn't know what he was apologising for so instead he just kept quiet. His hyungs did their best to boost his mood but their affection and attention didn't affect him the same way hers did. They were his family. They loved him so it made it easier to take their encouragements with a grain of salt. But she had no reason to pretend. If she was giving him her attention, it was because she wanted to. And he craved her attention more than he wanted to admit. He knew that to her he was just the maknae but sometimes it was nice to just feel like himself. He focused on the feeling of her fingers gliding softly along his hand, moving up his wrist. It tickled pleasantly. He wanted more. He wanted everyone to go away so that he could have her full attention for a while. The delicate stroking of his arm stopped and he felt movement beside him. He opened his eyes as she was getting up. "Leaving?" He asked, unable to hide his slight frown. She smiled and shook her head. "Bathroom" she whispered. " Back in a minute" She needed a breather. A second away to collect herself. She was falling into this a little too much. Being in such close proximity to Jungkook. Neither one of them actually paying attention to the movie. He looked so peaceful and content as she'd been playing with his hand. She noticed every time he'd smiled or sighed happily, every twitch of his fingers when she ran over an extra ticklish bit. She wondered if he'd noticed that she'd traced the heart on his hand more than any of his other tattoos. She studied herself in the bathroom mirror. His hoodie was too big on her and she grinned as she wrapped the yellow drawstrings around her fingers. She took a deep breath, tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach and headed back. The way she felt in that moment, 2 minutes was too long to be away from him. He greeted her with a smile as she crept back into the room and took her place beside him once again. "Okay? He whispered. She smiled and nodded. She snuggled back into the big cushions and turned her attention to the film. She wanted to keep touching him but didn't know if the moment was ruined. He closed his eyes again, also wondering if her attentions were finished. He felt her shuffle beside him but didn't open his eyes. He was kind of disappointed really. Or at least, he had been for the first few minutes. Then he felt her fingers in his hair, pushing through until she touched the skin on the back of his neck. The pleasent tickle returned with the smooth, feather like glide of her

fingers. He shivered slightly, leaning into her touch. His eyes fluttered and he let his head lol forward. She traced swirly patterns from the nape of his neck, down, pushing her fingers under the collar of his t shirt to stroke the top of his back. She'd tickle up and down his neck then under his collar and along to his shoulder then back. He was almost purring. Her light touch felt so good. He was angry that his hyungs were in the room. Had they been alone he would have just laid on his front, whipped off his shirt and left her have it it. He wanted more. He wanted to feel the soft glide of her fingers all over his skin. As she pushed her fingers up through his hair another blissful shiver traveled down his spine. All thought fell from his head as a he lost himself in her delicate stokes. Slightly more pressure against the back of his head then soft again as she wrapped his hair round her fingers. He wasn't sure how long it'd been going on for but it didn't feel like long enough when she stopped. His eyes felt heavy but he forced them open, looking at her quizzically. "What?" He asked, noticing the slight bashful expression on her face. "I need to stop" she whispered. He frowned, "Why?" She sighed, exasperated. "I need a drink" she mumbled, getting up and heading for the kitchen. He sat for a minute, puzzled, then headed after her. He found her in the kitchen leaning against the opened fridge door. "What's the matter?" He asked, closing the kitchen door behind him to drown out the movie sound blaring from the next room. She huffed and shrugged keep her back to him. "I just...need a drink. And to stop petting you like a dog" she muttered. He laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't mind" he replied. "Well I mind" she snapped back. He frowned, dropping his hand. "Oh....ok. Sorry." He mumbled. She turned to look at him, a bashful kind of hurt look on his face like she was angry at him. Her heart ached. "No...Jungkook, I mind because...." She took a deep breath, hating the look on his face, "...because I don't want to stop. I want to stoke you and pet you and make you feel good. But I can't because the more you enjoy it, the more I want to kiss you." She blurted. He looked at her wide eyed. Her face burned, her heart thudding wildly. Well damn. She'd said it now. "Jungkook...I'm sorry. I have been having such a shitty time being around you. Since I got back from England, you're all I can think about. I am so fucking into you it's not even funny. And I want to be close to you and do things that make you feel good cause there is NOTHING nicer than seeing you happy but it's just all tangled up in this shit i'm feeling and I don't know if I can keep them separate and I'm so scared of making you feel awkward or uncomfortable so....it's better if I just...go!" She sighed. Jungkook didn't seem phased. He nodded as though he understood then took a step towards her. "Kiss me?" he said softly. She nodded, rubbing her face. "Yes, I wanna kiss you" she replied. He took another step, a smile tugging at his lips. "No I'm not asking if you want to. I'm..." He sighed, "...I'm telling you to do it." Now it was her turn to look surprised. She frowned, looking at the smirk playing round his mouth. "Huh?" She barked. He took another step, closing the gap between them, he reached for her hands, pulling her to him. "Come here....and kiss me." His voice was lower and breathy. His brown eyes flashed as he leaned in, shaking his hair off his face. "Show me what you're feeling" he whispered. She almost wilted. His eyes closed heavily, his nose touched hers, their was a sharp inhale of breath from her, her grip on his hands tightening then her lips brushed his so lightly. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Her legs didn't feel like they could take her weight. His mouth opened, she could taste his breath. She wasn't sure if he was teasing her or they were teasing each other, either way, there was a delicious moment where the promise of the kiss hung in the air between them, then it ended, her lips

caught his, her hands sliding up his arms and winding round his shoulders. It didn't feel like a tentative first kiss. It was supercharged. All force and heavy breathing. It was like he could feel how much she wanted him and he fed off it. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her head steady as he took possession of her mouth, his tongue explored, he nibbled her bottom lip, she moaned against his lips, fingers curling against his shoulders. He could feel the slight nip of her nails through his shirt and it only served to make him kiss harder. He was rapidly losing control of himself. He felt greedy. He could feel the waves of desire radiating off her. The air was thick with lust. She wanted him. And he wanted her to want him. But not here. Not like this. He hated it but he eased up, letting go of the handfuls of her hair, trying to steer this back to somewhere manageable. He kissed her softer, running his fingers down her cheek, feeling her grip on his shoulders relax. He diverted the attention from her mouth, kissing sweetly along her collarbone then up her neck. A slight, mischevious nibble of her earlobe made her breath catch but he grinned, running his fingers through her hair. "Naekkeo!" he whispered.

[tanoraqui]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] Epilogue 

[now all on AO3!]

The real tragedy is that, while Nie Huaisang got to attend Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s wedding, and of course it was lovely and everything it could have been, he had to miss the subsequent banquet, which was the event of the century. A week later he’s already heard a song about it; two weeks and he’s heard four, and more rumors than usually circulate in a year, and even they mostly pale to the reality as reported from the horse’s mouth

“ - I was just going to run around dodging until some ghosts got through, but then Lan Zhan leapt to my defense, catching Sandu with Bichen!” Wei Wuxian grinned at Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang with equal glee, though his smile for the former was much softer. “Jiang Cheng struck back, of course, and they were off - two of the greatest cultivators of our generation, leaping from table to table right there in Glamour Hall, fighting blade to blade - and whip to guqin!”

He gestured dramatically, recreating the moment and nearly smacking Lan Wangji, seated beside him, in the face. Lan Wangji simply ducked, expressionless except maybe for the faintest crinkle of his eyes. Nie Huaisang sipped his wine and watched in delight

they’d come under cover of darkness, sneaking up old side-stairs they’d all used during the Sunshot Campaign. Perhaps excessive, but a little caution never hurt anyone

drinking together in Nie Huaisang’s bedroom when everyone was supposed to be asleep felt ridiculously nostalgic, though

“But Jiang Cheng - don’t tell him I said this - is just the tiniest bit much less impressive than Lan Zhan, so I had to leap in in turn - Lan Zhan didn’t realize we were just play-acting, nobody had thought to bring him in on it, he just defended me because it was the honorable thing to do.”

The stars in his eyes put the clear night sky to shame.

“I will not allow harm to come to Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said calmly

holy shit. Holy shit. How had Nie Huaisang missed this one, when he prided himself on keeping up with all the juiciest gossip about his friends.

He refilled Wei Wuxian’s cup. “And that’s when you started the food fight? I heard there was a food fight.”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian clapped. “I couldn’t exactly use my sword - I’d already boasted that I didn’t need it! But Lan Zhan was going to kick my shidi’s ass, and I had to step in - so I tipped a bowl of soup right in his face!” He ran a hand down Lan Wangji’s chest and frowned dramatically. “It ruined all his beautiful robes - I’m so sorry, Lan Zhan.” 

“Mn. It was no trouble.” 

Now that Nie Huaisang was looking for it, he recognized the slight stiffening of a man absolutely desperate to grab that hand and pull its bearer into his lap and then some. Holy fucking shit.

Wei Wuxian cackled. “It wasn’t! You just kept fighting with Jiang Cheng - so I kept throwing food! At both of you, because sometimes Jiang Cheng kept trying to hit me, too - until not just ghosts arrived but some corpses, too, coming up from the dungeons.” That broken-glass edge to his smile again. “It seems Jin Guangshan had been quite a bad boy, or at least one of his guest disciples had - a man named Xue Yang got called out, I heard? But he disappeared?” He turned to Lan Wangji. “We heard people talking on the road.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji confirmed

“I heard the same,” Nie Huaisang said. “Creepy weirdo. Jin Guangshan is saying the corpses were yours, of course, but it’s a little hard since Zewu-jun found all those notes on demonic cultivation in Xue Yang’s room - and some of them with Jin Guangyao’s handwriting on them.” 

“We heard about that - kind of,” said Wei Wuxian. “Is he really in the dungeon himself now?”

“Yes.” Nie Huaisang smiled, and topped off his own glass. “Between that and having reason to believe he’d just given all the Wen prisoners to Nie Sect on a whim,  Jin Guangshan is quite displeased with Lianfang-zun.”

he felt a little bad for Lan Xichen, but the man would get over it. He still had one respectable, far superior sworn brother

Wei Wuxian raised his glass in toast and Nie Huaisang met it gladly, and leaned forward again. “So what happened next?”

“Oh, you know.” Wei Wuxian leaned back and waved one hand. “Lots of shouting. The peacock got shijie out of there, so I guess maybe he’s okay for her. A lot more fighting - Jiang Cheng kept doing a really good impression of trying to kill me, Lan Zhan kept stopping him, and I kept stopping Lan Zhan from hitting Jiang Cheng too hard. Jiang Cheng shouted again about how I’d better destroy the Tiger Seal or leave YunmengJiang forever, just like we’d planned, so I threw half of it in the air and broke it with Suibian - and good thing I wasn’t holding it, because even just half of it exploded so hard it blew up half of Glamour Hall! I was nearly knocked out - Lan Zhan had to carry me out on Bichen!”

he spoke airily, except for the last part which he spoke with hearts in his eyes, but there was a weight like a brick to it. Nie Huaisang wondered how much of the supposedly pre-planned drama had come down to split-second decisions about what mattered most

though it was also hilarious to think that anyone believed it wasn’t choreographed, on the part of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng at least. For one thing, Qinghe had strength; Lanling, appearance and secrets; and the spirit of Yunmeng, true to its motto, was sheer bloody-minded perseverance in the face of overwhelming odds, preferably with as much drama as possible. If Sandu Sengshou and the Yiling Patriarch truly fought to the death, even Huangang-jun wouldn’t be able to stop it, and a mere wedding banquet couldn’t contain the battle - it would be on the edge of a cliff before the entire cultivation world, possibly with the earth on fire around them

it was even more hilarious to think that even if emotions ran that furiously high, either of them would do a single thing to ruin their beloved sister’s wedding day, without her explicit permission and encouragement

“I can’t believe you destroyed a major sect hall without me” Nie Huaisang shook his head mournfully. “Remember when we set off firecrackers in the Cloud Recesses?”

“Yes,” Lan Wangji said firmly, while Wei Wuxian burst into laughter.

“Ah, Huaisang-gongzi,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I promise I’ll invite you next time.”

"You’d better!” Nie Huaisang cried. “I mean, you still have half the Tiger Seal to destroy...”

Wei Wuxian shot him a wink that said, that’s true, and you’re my friend, but I’m not biting that hook you’re using to fish for information. Nie Huaisang shrugged, can you blame me? and lifted the wine jug again

“More? You know, you’re welcome to stay more than one night. This is so fun, just catching up - and I know A-Yuan will be delighted to see you again!”

“He really is a cute kid, isn’t he?” Wei Wuxian smiled wistfully, then shook his head. “But no - maybe we’ll say hi to Wen Qing and Wen Ning, but we’ve given Jin Guangshan about four different things to worry about, when he used to have just one or two, but it’s still probably better not to consolidate them.”

Nie Huaisang had to nod to the wisdom of that. (It was a pity the whole tower hadn’t come down on the man’s head, really.) He savored the last few sips of his own glass. “So you’ll be gone in the morning - do you know where?”

“I’ve heard that there’s a shidi of my mother’s starting to make a name for himself as a rogue cultivator - another disciple of Baoshan Sanren. I thought I might find him and, you know, say hello at least.”

His smile was touched with mournful longing, but his eyes held the particular glint that said someone was about to be befriended, or possibly adopted into YunmengJiang on authority of the Head Disciple, whether they liked it or not. It was a very Wei Wuxian expression, and Nie Huaisang didn’t think he’d seen it since they were all young and stupid at the Cloud Recesses

“I am going with him,” stated Lan Wangji, Victim Example #1 of that expression

“Aw, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian, for lack of a better word, snuggled up against him, before turning back to Nie Huaisang and saying with exaggerated disappointment. “He’s finally accepted that I’m not going to go back to Gusu to be cleansed within an inch of my life, so he’s following me around and keeping me out of trouble day by day instead. So righteous! So boring!”

good god, did he not know...?

Nie Huaisang met Lan Wangji’s eyes and found there a well a patience deeper than the sea, and affection just a great Well, he had to toast to that

He raised his last mouthful of wine, to clink against Wei Wuxian’s glass and the cup of tea Lan Wangji had been politely nursing. “Well, good luck to both of you!”

That’s all, folks! Thanks for reading!

[vernonfielding]

A moment of divinity

Story No. 12 of my Season 7 Countdown Project. This one is written for @andrewsambags and @madeofitzits, who are both such incredible assets to the B99/Newsomberg(/bespectacled-Jake/Andy) fandom.

This story is ALSO my submission to the B99 2020 Vision Challenge. Thank you to the organizers at @b99fandomevents for putting it together!

Summary: “I got to see the world through your eyes.”

The morning he accidentally switched contact lenses with Amy was one of Jake’s favorite moments of their first year of marriage. Interesting. Takes place during Casecation. (Read on AO3.)

Jake high-fives Amy on his way out of the shower and her way in. Once upon a time in their relationship they would have showered together if they were running late for work and needed to save some time (and more likely making themselves even later). But they’ve been married three months now and living together for two years and honestly, shower sex is super overrated. It’s crazy slippery and someone always bumps an elbow or gets soap in a really uncomfortable place and it’s too cramped to get the right angles or leverage.

Still, it’s fun watching Amy’s butt disappear behind the shower curtain.

Jake grins to himself as he turns to the medicine cabinet. The mirror is steamed over and he resists clearing a spot with his hand – Amy hates the smudges – and opens the door to grab his contacts. For a second he’s confused when he can’t find the familiar frog-face case he keeps his in, but then he remembers Amy made him throw the case out after he dropped it in the toilet. He sighs and takes out the boring blue case instead.

He’s only had contacts for about a year and he’s still not good at putting them in blind, so when he closes the cabinet door he glances at the shower, and Amy’s hazy (but still somehow sexy) profile under the water, and then rubs clean a corner of the mirror so he can see what he’s doing.

The first one pops in but feels weird against his eyelid, like it’s at the wrong angle (which yes, he knows is impossible, it’s a circle), but he blinks a few times and it seems to settle. The same happens with the second one. His vision is a little off but the bathroom’s full of steam so he just closes his eyes as he towels himself off and slips on the boxers he slept in.

He opens his eyes again as he turns toward the bedroom – and for a second he thinks he’s having a stroke. He doesn’t have any idea what a stroke feels like (he’s not entirely sure what a stroke is, actually) but the sudden blurred vision, the way the familiar lines and shapes of their bedroom have gone all sideways, and the accompanying vertigo must mean that something is very, very wrong. Jake stumbles toward the bed, hands flailing out in front of him because he can’t see, and practically collapses. His heart is hammering in his chest and he’s blinking madly, eyes tearing up.

His eyes – Jake laughs out loud when he figures it out. He’s put in Amy’s contact lenses. She’d even told him when he borrowed her extra contact lens case to be careful they didn’t mix them up.

He’s massively relieved that his brain isn’t going to explode (he’s pretty sure that’s what a stroke does), and he flops back on the bed, blinking up at the blurry ceiling fan spinning slowly overhead. His vision is still totally screwed up but the contacts aren’t actually uncomfortable, and as long as he just lies there he doesn’t feel dizzy.

It occurs to him that in a way, he’s seeing through Amy’s eyes. And he knows that’s not really how it works and that Amy would tell him he’s being ridiculous but- it’s also kind of true.

He smiles to himself as he pushes up on his elbows and slowly looks all around their bedroom, taking in the familiar and yet suddenly new surroundings. He squints at their matching bedside lamps and the floral prints hanging on either side of the headboard, the colors and shapes fuzzy, taking on new forms. The ferns on top of the armoire are a dark, muddy green, and their blurry arms seem to be waving at him in the breeze from the fan. The wicker laundry basket in the corner is a friendly looking lump, the bookcase a somewhat threatening dark tower, looming over the bed.

He knows this room so well that he could close his eyes and perfectly imagine the line-up of items on Amy’s dresser: the bottles of perfume and lotion, the silver tree that holds her few pieces of jewelry, the quilted box that her abuela gave her long ago, still holding the keepsakes of a child, shells and foreign coins and shiny buttons. He cranes his head to look behind him anyway, to see the shape of them from a fresh, Amy perspective.

He’s been seeing the world through her eyes for years now, really – as a partner and as a friend, as someone he loves and as someone he will spend the rest of his life with. But it hits him anew, now that he’s literally (sort of) seeing through her eyes, how incredibly lucky he is. No one else gets to be this close to her, gets to share her life with her and experience the world with her always at his side. His heart seizes at the power of that thought.

This woman – somehow he finds a way to love her more every single day.

“Jake!” Amy’s panicked voice shakes him out of his near-blind reverie, and Jake sits up, looking blearily toward the bathroom.

“What is it? Are you okay?”

Amy doesn’t answer right away, but Jake makes out her hazy silhouette in the bathroom doorway, steam puffing out around her so she looks like a dream, soft and ethereal.

“Ames?”

“Why am I wearing your contact lenses?”

Jake shuts his mouth. He blinks at her and though it doesn’t help clear his vision, he feels pretty confident that she looks annoyed. Perhaps very annoyed.

Then she tilts her head to one side, and he can feel her eyes on his face, and she says, soft this time, “You’re looking at the world through my eyes, aren’t you.”

“Maybe?”

Amy stumbles toward him, arms outstretched the same way his were, towel wrapped around her body, and when she bumps into his knees she grabs onto his shoulders and peers into his eyes (probably – even up close he can’t see too well).

She says, “You are a ridiculous goofball and I love you, so much.”

He beams back up at her and says, “I love you,” and he kisses her with his eyes – her eyes – wide open.

+++

Amy refuses to let him have his own contacts back after they’ve both taken the lenses out of their eyes.

“They’ve been in my eyes. That’s gross,” she says.

“But I’ve just been wearing your contact lenses for the past five minutes,” Jake says.

“Yes, and that was sweet, but also gross,” Amy says, and dumps his contacts into the trash, along with her own.

The thing is: Amy has a backup pair. Jake does not. He was down to his last pair and hadn’t gotten around to ordering more and yes, Amy told him ages ago to just get the daily disposables so he’d always have a huge supply on hand but he hasn’t yet.

“You can’t go to work blind,” she says, following him into the kitchen once they’re both finally dressed.

“What do you think I did before contacts?” Jake says.

“I try not to think about that,” Amy says. “Seriously, put on your glasses, babe.”

He rolls his eyes – his back is to her, so it’s safe – and squints into the refrigerator to make sure he grabs the orange soda and not the Orangina bottle. When he turns around, Amy’s right in front of him, close enough that he can see her just fine.

“Please?” she says.

She doesn’t wait for him to reply, just unfolds his glasses and carefully slides them onto his face, nudging them into place with a finger. The room snaps into focus, startling and satisfying at once.

“Better?” Amy says.

Jake shrugs and mutters “I don’t know” under his breath even though he knows he’s being childish. It’s only when he sits down at the table with his bowl of Froot Loops that he realizes he’s grabbed the Orangina after all.

When Amy hands him the orange soda instead, the smirk on her face is clear as day.

+++

No one at the precinct cares about his glasses. The only person who says anything is Charles, and he tells Jake that he looks like an international spy slash billionaire playboy slash Russian dancer.

“All three?” Jake says.

“Not all at once, but yes,” Charles says.

“Cool,” Jake says, and means it.

He’s still not planning to ever wear the glasses in public again, until he’s walking out of the precinct with Amy, their shifts ending at the same time for once, and she yanks him by his badge into a dark corner of the parking garage and mauls him with her lips.

“What was that for?” Jake says, panting, when she finally breaks away. His glasses have steamed up, and he reaches up to take them off so he can wipe them on his shirt.

Amy grabs his hand though and growls. “Leave them on.”

“Oh,” Jake says. And then, “Oh.”

He does eventually get new contacts. Just- not right away.

End Notes:

Title is from Bikini Babe Workout (Bash Brothers).

When I first saw the 2020 Vision Challenge (with associated squinting Jake gif) I immediately was like, oh hell yeah I’m writing Jake with glasses! And then I saw the theme was “new” and thought about Jake seeing the world through a “new,” Amy perspective. And well. Here we are.

At first I just thought it’d be fun to try to explain how they managed to swap contact lenses. But as I got started writing I had to ask myself, Why in the world would this be a top five moment for Jake?? That’s a weird top five, right? (I hope my answer is satisfying.)

This canon doesn’t match with my AC/DC canon (in which Jake already has contacts/glasses). But my rule for this project is that the fics only have to be compliant with actual canon, not my own canon. I know, that is too many canons. Just trust me, it’s all cool.

I would have been happy to have written an ending wherein Jake decides to wear his glasses every day forever and ever but – stupid canon. Here’s hoping for season 7 bespectacled Jake.

[enby-hawke]

Summary: Hawke loves dragons and this is his very first dragon fight. I made up some magic that doesn’t exist. 

Word Count: 7815

Pairing: Lots of flirting mostly between oblivious Merrill, oblivious Hawke, and super annoyed Carver.

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Bethany was still not talking to Hawke and neither was Mother. That didn’t change the fact that rent needed to be paid and Hawke had only gathered half the coin needed for the expedition. With Carver in tow, Hawke circled through his usual contacts, trying to drum up some work. After one no turned into 8, and the morning slipped to noon, Hawke decided it was time to get a drink and ask Varric for ideas before his temper made him do something stupid.

“I have the usual escort and delivery jobs, but if you’re looking for something bigger, I’ve heard of another opportunity...but the patron is….”

Varric trailed off, and Hawke sighed into his glass, the growing headache an unwelcome guest. “What, he a templar or something?”

“Orlesian.”

Even Carver joined in the groan. “Maker, we’re desperate aren’t we?”

“When are we not?” Hawke chuckled back. “What’s the job?”

“Just to check on his mine. Apparently, none of his workers have clocked out of work since Saturday, but also none of them have reported home. He won’t say what the reward is only that it will “exponentially paid,” whatever that means. Eh, maybe count me out today.” Varric knitted his eyebrows as he pressed his pen to his tablet, but with two words written, he’d erase three. There were at least three drained mugs of spiked coffee that Edwina still hadn’t bussed, but whether they were from last night or this morning Hawke couldn’t tell.

“Why not? You always come along,” Hawke grinned. If anyone could use a break from his room, it was Varric.

Hawke continued to feed scraps of his sausage and eggs to Boof under the table. The mabari had his head on Hawke’s lap, begging for more with his big brown eyes.

Varric set down his pen, rubbing his temple as he adjusted his reading glasses. “Maybe cause “The Bone Pit” is haunted with ghost slaves and spiders and Maker knows what else. You want to get cursed? Be my guest. I’m good.” Varric grabbed a not drained glass of spiked coffee and took a swig.

“Already cursed. It’s not such a big deal,” Hawke shrugged nonchalantly, but mischief crept into his eyes. “C’mon, Varric, where’s your authorial pride? Think of it as a research trip. A haunted mine could be the perfect setting for your next book.”

“I write action thrillers with a dash of political intrigue,” Varric argued. He pushed Boof away when the dog tried to push his head in his lap.

“Y’know I’m kind of with the dwarf on this one,” Carver said, picking at his stew before pushing it aside.

“Hey eat, you’ll need your strength,” Hawke pushed the bowl back in front of Carver. His brother grunted but resigned himself to shoveling the stew into his mouth. Hawke turned back to Varric. “Besides we don’t have a car. It’ll take forever to walk,” Hawke gave his biggest puppy eyes and even left his chair to kneel on the sticky floor, both hands clasped pleading. “Pleeeeeeeeeease.”

“Maker,” Varric caved. He always did. “Fine, but only because writer’s block is kicking my ass.”

Hawke jumped up, a spring suddenly in his step. “Great! But I should drive. You’ve been drinking.”

Varric barked a laugh. “So have you, genius. We’ll put Donna on autopilot.”

They picked up Isabela since they were already at the Hanged Man and Merrill just happened to already be in her room. Isabela didn’t like the idea of traipsing through a boneyard but when Merrill wanted to go, she resigned to tagging along. It was kind of like that ever since Hawke introduced the two, and that worked out since it was fun to watch Carver attempts to talk to Merrill. Though he was rooting for them, he couldn’t help but join Isabela teasing them.

Varric introduced Hawke to Hubert Bartiere in the Hightown Market where he had a store that sold everything from high-end fabric, perfumes, and of course his featured item, polished gems and jewelry mined and crafted “locally”. The man knew Hawke was Ferelden as soon as Hawke introduced his dog. He was less than impressed. Both Carver and Hawke managed not to punch him.

“You’re a mercenary, right?” Hubert glared at the odd party of humans, a dwarf, a Dalish elf and a mabari.

“I do a bit of everything,” Hawke shrugged.

“Well you’re good at killing and that’s what I need. I sent a group from the Wicked Dawn’s to take a look and they haven’t returned. I’m starting to think they made off with my coin. You, I won’t pay until the job’s done.” He continued to primp the mannequin displays, trying to end the conversation.

Hawke wasn’t satisfied with that and tapped Hubert on the shoulder. “But what is the reward? The listing isn’t clear.”

The man looked repulsed at the fact that he had been touched and took out a handkerchief, patting himself down. “I don’t know the extent of the problem so it depends on what you find there. Rest assured you will be fairly compensated. I am a reputable and fair merchant.”

Varric snorted at that, which told Hawke what he needed to know. The mage crossed his arms, planting himself in front of the mannequin in a peacock dress. “Not taking one step out of Kirkwall unless we each get 50 silvers each and then we can discuss a potential bonus-depending on what I find.”

The man looked outraged, his temple vein popping. “Where does a dog-barbarian get off making demands like that?”

“I can vouch for him,” Varric offered. “Whatever’s going on in your mine, Hawke can solve it. He comes with the Tethras guarantee.”

Hawke grinned cockily, imagining his fist was knocking out one of the Orlesian’s teeth.

The man sniffed sharply. “If it turns out my workers are just being lazy I will want my money back.”

‘And you won’t get it,’ Hawke thought, but he nodded offering the man the peace of mind he needed.

The man reached into his pocket going for plastic coin chits, but Hawke held up his hand in refusal. “I prefer coin.”

“I will need to go to the bank to convert it over. That may take some time as I can’t leave my stall. Perhaps you should go and check on my mine while you wait.”

Hawke grabbed the chits angrily. “Taking these for collateral. You can exchange them after I come back.”

The Bone Pit was only about 15 minutes away flying on Donna. You had to pass it when you left the city to get anywhere else. “Oh don’t look so grumpy, Varric,” Hawke nudged the dwarf, Donna’s wheel automatically adjusting course. “Didn’t you say hanging out with me is always an adventure?”

“Don’t butter me up, Hawke. You’re just using me for my wings.”

When they piled out of the car, Boof galloped out, dashing wildly in a wide circle causing Merrill to giggle.

“Boof!” Hawke called out. The dog bounced off a boulder and bounded back towards Hawke, and sat at attention, his feathery tail quivering as it swayed from side to side. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the fresh air, bud, but we have a job to do. Lead us to trouble.”

Boof nodded instead of barking, his puppy demeanor shifting instantly to wardog. Then he dashed away, before dashing back, then dashed away again, impatient at the humanoids much slower stride. The mine itself was strangely abandoned, pickaxes and tools and even luggage and blood were strewn about but no people. They kept their hands on their weapons as they explored, sometimes jumping at the sound of some birds scattering as they approached. The wind whistled through the mountains carrying cries of creatures that they could not place. The air was cold, the veil felt thin. You could feel the Fade weighing down from the midst of haze that hovered overhead.

Boof led them to the foot of a cave, where they saw a miner still dressed in ratty clothes. He was lying face down, several spider punctures tore through his shirt, where the man had been drained of blood. Strangely, his back was also burned, his skin had bubbled and stinking the air with singed flesh. The corpse had been scavenged, huge chunks of his torso that had been chomped out, most of his organs missing, but all the days-old blood was dry and flaking. “Poor man,” Merrill said. “It might have been a rage demon.”

“Or a dragon,” Hawke whispered, his heart suddenly in his throat. The heat that had done this was intense, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

Suddenly Boof crouched, growling menacingly. They all turned to hear several high-pitched screeches. Hawke recognized the cry and dashed after his dog, casting a haste spell to keep up.

“Hawke!” he heard several voices shout behind him, but he wouldn’t slow down. The bright lantern lights danced with the shadows in the cave, echoing with the pounding of his gait. He kept running until he saw a clearing where about 20 drakes of all at varying sizes huddled. At the head of the pack stood the broodfather, fully mature at about 10 feet tall, and he breathed out a territorial fire at the sight of the intrusion in his nest.

“Aaaaaww, Boof,” he groaned. “It’s not a dragon.”

The drake screeched charging, the other younger drakes following in tow. Hawke sighed, it was still a fight and he still had to take it seriously. Deciding to save bullets, he grabbed the staff from his back, unfolding the blades with a click of a button.

The mabari was eager to charge but Hawke put his hand up. “Not yet, Boof,” he said and the dog sat down, waiting.

He channeled his magic into his staff, building up energy. When he collected enough, he waved his hand, imagining where he wanted ice to form. All beneath the charging drakes, sigils of ice mines formed exploding some smaller drakes into the air. Crystal crept and spread across the dirt and stone covering the drakes path with slippery ice. The smaller drakes began to lose traction, sliding and falling, but the largest drake dug his claws into the ground, steadying himself, digging claw after claw as it pushed its way out of the ice field.

The others were just beginning to catch up when they gazed out towards the damage already done. “Boof and I got the big one if you guys want to take the smaller ones,” Hawke grinned, causing Carver to roll his eyes. Hawke then pointed at the broodfather. “Boof! Tear out his throat!”

The mabari yipped in confirmation and bolted from his seat charging for the enormous drake. It bellowed, breathing fire but the dog bounded and bounced out of the way. Hawke aimed at Boof, and cast a haste spell, speeding up the dog’s gait so the drake could not aim properly.

Bullets and magic and Bianca’s laser bolts shot past the broodfather picking off the still slipping lesser drakes. Carver had decided to opt-out of this fight. He was now turned away, the tip of his greatsword buried in some dirt. Boof was in front of the drake now, and it swiped at the mabari with its meaty claw. Boof yipped, bouncing off its arm and then back to the ground. The dog jumped back up, raking his claws into the drake’s skin and pushed himself upwards. Boof barked triumphantly, clamping down on the drake’s throat and started to shred. Blood spurted out of the wound and the dog wriggled, tearing open it’s tough leather hide.

Hawke nervously watched his dog swinging through the air, his staff following as he aimed a barrier at him. The drake was moving erratically, turning and twisting and slipping and Hawke could not get a clean shot. The drake kept swiping at its neck, and it was only a matter of time before Boof would get hit.

“Boof, return!” he ordered and the dog released his chomp and pushed off the drake. Hawke managed to cast a barrier as he landed just in time for the drake to swipe. The claw sparked against the barrier, sending the dog flying backward towards Hawke. Boof scrambled to his feet and shook his head all the way down to his feathery tail. That was close.

The drake was dying now, all the other lesser drakes almost picked off by the others. Carver was sulking. Sure Hawke was disappointed it wasn’t dragons, too, but at least they were in the same family. “You want to finish it off, little bro?”

“Go ahead,” Carver muttered, not turning towards Hawke.

Hawke shrugged. He didn’t know what he did wrong this time, but he didn’t feel like playing into Carver’s mood. The drake was approaching now, trying to breathe fire, but it could not manage it any longer and the flames only went a few inches past its mouth. Hawke chose an ice spike, aiming carefully. He shot it, the air whistling as the large chunk of crystal shot from Hawke’s hand and into the wound Boof had opened. The spike pushed through its spine and through the back of the dragon’s neck. The drake gurgled, swayed and fell with a thud.

“Is that all of them?” Merrill asked, breaking the sudden silence.

Hawke sheathed his staff onto his back. “There may be more. We should clear out the cave just in case.”

They had found the rest of the miners and the mercenaries Hubert had sent earlier. The corpses were dragged behind a knocked-down wall only days open strewn about the nest in a shallow pile. The bloody bones were in the process of being stripped clean with gnaw marks chewed in. Armor was scattered in shallow piles with a single torso still trapped stuck into its chest plate-dented from where the drakes had tried to peel it off.

Hawke and Isabela, of course, halted the group to check to see if they could find any coin or other valuables amongst the scattered body parts. Both of them dug through pockets and bags throwing whatever didn’t interest them over their shoulder which could either be a rock, a button, a shovel, or a foot. Isabela pried off a gold ring off a mercenary’s gloved finger inspecting it closely. Hawke collectively found 126 silver and split amongst the group. Isabela, like always, kept all the coin she found and the ring, but still was still happy to receive her share.

“Nice!” Hawke grinned as he divided up the piles. “It’s even.”

“I still don’t know why Boof needs money,” Isabela eyed the pile before Boof, who was busy cleaning himself.

“Oh c’mon. Boof deserves a king’s meal after taking out that drake.” He collected Boof’s share and put it on the money pouch on his armor harness. “I’m treating him to a special dinner after this,” Hawke grinned at his pup who looked up at him with his tongue still out. “Your pick.”

Isabela groaned as Hawke suddenly started baby-talking his dog showering him with kisses over his snout as Boof’s tongue would stretch trying to reach Hawke’s face. She didn’t bring up that Hawke was always treating his dog to “special dinners.” Boof’s happy booming bark bounced against the cave wall, as he rolled onto his back, demanding belly rubs.

“Quiet, Boof, we don’t want to wake the nest.” Hawke said sternly.

Boof then boofed, his throaty bark muffled in his throat as he begged still belly-up.

After a short-ish belly rub session in which Merrill joined, they spent the next few hours exploring each nook and cranny. Hawke kept hoping for a dragon. There was a whole nest here, but he knew Mothers didn’t usually stay near the brood. She might be nearby, or anywhere in the mountains, if she was there at all. They kept going when they heard the sound of a cry. It was a man’s voice, and he was terrified.

“We’ve got a survivor,” Hawke told Boof. “Find him.”

Boof nodded, dashing forward and the party followed to find a man who had climbed on top of a rock. He was surrounded by 5 lesser drakes about as big as Boof. They clicked and growled trying to climb up the rock, but the red-haired miner kept kicking them back down with his lone spare boot, his other dirty pink foot bare.

He spotted the group and shot an arm out towards them. “Help me! Please!”

Boof corralled the drakes, herding them away from the miner. Hawke was about to shoot a fireball when he remembered he didn’t know this man and waved at an overly eager Merrill to put down her staff. Carver and Isabela understood and they charged alongside Hawke with Merrill lagging behind, her staff at the ready. Varric picked off drake after drake with throat and eye shots. There were only 2 left by the time Isabela, Carver, and Hawke arrived. Isabela grabbed one biting head and shoved her dagger in its eye. The drake squealed before keeling over. Carver chopped off the other one’s head and it rolled away, it’s tongue flopping. Hawke having nothing to do started helping the man down from the rock that he was trapped on.

“Oh thank the Maker. I thought I was gonna die.”

“Yeah you got pretty lucky,” Hawke nodded, steadying the man. “How are you? Need food? Water?”

“I’m thirstier than a son of a bitch. I’ve been trapped in these caves for days now,” the man replied causing Hawke to dig through his bag and bring out a thermos and some jerky. The man took it and greedily downed the whole thermos leaving Hawke with just the backwash and then inhaled the jerky.

“Thank Mythal you’re ok,” Merrill said, leaning against her staff. “How did you survive?”

“By hiding mostly,” he replied, coughing on the meat. “I spent most of my time in a crate, with the quarry, but my thirst got the better of me. I tried to make my way to the entrance but those dragons sniffed me out.”

“Actually, those were drakes,” Hawke corrected.

“What’s the difference?”

“Drakes are primarily male with few exceptions, have no wings, and only grow a quarter of the size of-,”

The man held up his hand. “Sorry I asked. I just really want to get out of there.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hawke felt embarrassed that he had gone into lecture mode about drakonis. “Sure, the way back should be clear.”

Hawke started to move forward but the man grabbed him by the shoulder his murky brown eyes manic with fear. “You can’t go through there. There’s a huge dragon.”

“We can handle it,” Hawke shrugged. He probably meant another drake.

“No, you don’t understand it’s much bigger than the others- with the horns and huge wings. You don’t want to go out there.”

Hawke suddenly lit up. One with wings? Could he be telling the truth? “Let’s go, Boof,” Hawke dashed off, his wagging dog yipping in agreement.

He could hear the others only barely turning the corner, their footsteps echoing against the cave walls. “Will you slow down?” Carver shouted.

“She might not be there if we wait too long,” Hawke called back over his shoulder.

Hawke’s ears were pounding with the thud of his heartbeat. His breathing was erratic and only Boof seemed to be able to keep up with his hastened gait. He dashed out of the cave and onto a rocky plateau where she lay, curled up like a cat, her head tucked into her hefty claws.

He was paralyzed, his heart galloping in his chest and for a few moments, he could only stare. “Holy fuck it’s really a dragon,” Hawke whispered just as the group caught up with him.

Hawke was visibly trembling. He thought he would disintegrate at this moment. She was young, only a few heads taller than a full-grown drake and her scales were a sandy color. She had two sets of outstretched horns that ended in sharp, bony points. Her claws were like obsidian and about half the size of his mabari and they twitched as the dragon slumbered, unaware of the intrusion. For a few moments, all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat and he breathed alongside the beast.

“This is the best day of my life!” Hawke’s voice was not quiet and there was a chorus of shushes.

The dragon stretched and moved and Carver pulled Hawke back into the cave before his brother could go charging. The Abyssal snorted, but settled back into its dream. “Elgar’nan, she’s big,” Merrill whispered, peeking around the corner.

“Don’t worry I’ll protect you,” Carver told Merrill. Then he turned to Hawke, strapping his greatsword to his back. His voice was still low and wary. “This might get messy. Mind if I borrow Dad’s gun?”

Hawke’s eyes lit up. “The Armorwing?” He was too loud again and was shushed.

“Yeah, we never had a real chance to try it out,” Carver grinned back.

Hawke waved his hand excitedly, opening a portal, and reached into the white void. He called to his mind the image of the gun, trying to ignore the sudden ache as a soft memory of daily shooting practice bubbled into his thoughts. Suddenly, he could remember the first time he held the Armorwing and quickly squashed down the flood of memories that threatened to come crashing in. A few moments later, he felt it wrapped around his fingers and he pulled out a silverite assault cannon with a barrel about 2 inches wide. 6 different colored runes were into 3 buttons on each side.

Carver slipped the strap into place adjusting it to his size and as he fiddled with some of the settings while Hawke hovered over. The rest of the party was dumbfounded.

“Now remember we’re going to want to stick to ice settings for most of the fight. She’s fire-aspected.” Hawke pointed at the snowflake rune which made Carver snort, and he pressed it before Hawke could.

“I know how to use it. Just don’t get us killed,” Carver muttered. He clicked off the safety and stared down the sight.

“How in the Maker’s name did two broke Fereldens get their hands on an Armorwing?” Varric asked.

“Didn’t I tell you? My dad helped invent them,” Hawke shrugged.

“Oh, I guess that explains everything then,” Varric replied, his tone stating the opposite.

“Don’t worry, it's got nothing on Bianca,” Hawke grinned.

Isabela followed, exchanging her knives for her handguns. “Great we found the dragon- Let’s kill it while it’s sleeping,” she began to aim but Hawke shoved his way forward bounding like the mabari that trailed his feet- in front of Isabela’s aim.

“Oh sweet Maker,” Carver groaned.

Hawke didn’t even notice his party but was addressing his dog rather seriously, his arms crossed looking into the mabari mutt’s deep brown eyes. The mabari’s long feathered tail was wagging wildly somehow understanding. “Now this is our first real dragon fight, Boof. She’s young but it’s the real deal so keep up, okay. She looks maybe 50 summers at most, but don’t underestimate her. Her flame sac is fully mature. She will be able to create a gaseous flame that burns at about 1600 degrees Celsius. Boof! That’s hotter than lava!”

“Lucky,” Carver cleared his throat. He seemed more annoyed than horrified.

“Right, right,” Hawke nodded and then nodded to his dog. “Got that? No catch. Stay behind me if it gets rough-”

The dragon was starting to awaken because Hawke wasn’t exactly being quiet. The party fidgeted, with varying degrees of anger to fear, except for Carver who was just sighing and looking up to the sky for help.

“Uh, Hawke what the fuck are you doing?” Varric whispered not that it mattered if he was quiet any longer. The dragon slowly opened one scaly red-eye, it’s gaze fixating on the bubbly mage who was enthusiastically stretching his arms and lunging.

“Looks like it’s time.” Hawke clapped his hands in glee then placed them on the ground. Pebbles trembled and sudden spikes of boulders shot up from the ground, startling the dragon. A circle of spaced jagged rocks juts out one by one making makeshift barriers on the platform, while one boulder raised right before Hawke’s feet. The dragon crouched defensively, dodging the spikes as she took to the air with several wind-inducing wing beats.

The dragon bellowed the air grew stiff and dry and flames shot down at Hawke, who pressed himself behind the center boulder. Everyone dove undercover as the flames flooded the platform melting some of the rock. “Whoooooooooooooooo!” Hawke whooped as the flames split against the boulders shooting past him and blackening the rocks in front of him. He only had a small pocket where he and Boof huddled as the flames licked past them, the heat sweltering the air, making it thin.

The dragon finally stopped inhaling and swooping far into the air beyond the reach of bullets and laser bolts.

“Maker she’s so beautiful.” Hawke was shouting now. “Alright everyone barriers will last only about 4 seconds at best under direct fire so best stay undercover and stay light on your feet.”

Merrill chirped from where she was ducked under a rock near the mouth of the cave. Carver was guarding her with his body, the Armorwing clenched in his hands. He swore under his breath as Merrill drew her staff, her eyes wide and trembling but she just said, “Let’s try not to get cooked, everyone. It’ll smell awful.” Somehow she was just able to accept that this was happening.

“She’s magnificent,” Hawke laughed maniacally. “Aw man, does anyone want to record this?”

Isabela and Varric just glanced at each other from their cover, not sure if they should gang up to kill Hawke.

“You’re mad, you know that?” Isabela cried. She fired several shots at the dragon, as it circled around them trying to make runs in the safety of the skies, but the bullets just sparked against her underbelly. Varric shot a laser from Bianca but it only scorched the scale. Carver shot one hole in the center of it’s right wing. The dragon screeched, echoing through the mountains. It breathed flames again, and everyone dove back under cover of the boulders. But though its hide was blackened it didn’t seem to do much damage.

“Her underbelly’s harder than steel,” Hawke cried. “Aim for the fleshy part of her wings to bring her down.”

Hawke aimed an ice spike at the dragon’s eye but she tilted, veering left and the spike shot past her. Isabela shot up with her handgun, the dragon flinching each time a bullet bounced off the wing but one bullet went clean through, blood spurted from the wound. Merrill flung spells and bolts up at the dragon in support but the dragon seemed to be absorbing the magic.

The dragon gurgled, it’s mouth lighting up as it swooped down for another pass. “Cover,” Hawke called out. Boof barked and they both dove behind the boulder again everyone ducking for safety. The rocks were steaming still red with flame that slowly died into embers. Their cover would melt away if they took much longer. The dragon honed in on the dog, following it with its flame. Boof galloped towards the edge of the arena bouncing against the rocks to lift him just beyond her reach. Hawke shot at the dragon's head, another ice spike grazed her eye, scraping it and it’s turned its head, the fiery stream blasting away from the plateau.

“Boof, you alright?” Hawke called out, his voice high and panicked.

The dog barked from behind a boulder.

The dragon bellowed zoning in on Hawke, circling back around. Varric was following the dragon with Bianca, Carver with the Armorwing, Isabela with her handguns. They both took turns shooting holes in her wings whenever they had an opening. Some of Varric’s laser bolts bounced off the bone and impaled themselves into the rock with glowing red spikes. Isabela aimed for parts already bleeding, but Carver’s ice absorbed into the dragon causing it to shriek every time he managed a hit. The dragon hovered above, steadily losing traction, when a huge rock flew from what seemed like nowhere and smacked the dragon on it’s nose.

“Nice one, Kitten!” Isabela grinned in approval.

“Watch out!” Merrill shouted back.

Blood spurted from it’s nostrils as the boulder continued undeterred into the sky. The dragon tumbled down, crashing into the rocks which slid away clearing half the platform.

She shook her head, her red eyes a little glazed but quickly spotted Hawke and started slinking into range.She gurgled, her teeth glowing orange as she inhaled.

“Lucky!” Carver cried out as Hawke fleeing behind the lone center boulder still steaming from being hit from all sides. He could not get too close to the melting rock and he could feel the heat on his back.

The flames wrapped around the boulder scooping out and filling the space. The dragon continued breathing fire approaching the boulder, the flames curling around the side singing Hawke as it became a hot bowl of flames. Hawke cast a barrier absorbing most of the indirect heat but the dragon was determined to burn Hawke out of existence and kept breathing out.

His barrier was cracking, the protective glow quickly fading. The heat was getting through and his skin began to blister. He called healing magic to run through him, trying to keep up with the damage.

“Hold on Hawke!” Merrill cried. A sigil formed around Hawke and lighting him up with a soft blue glow underneath before another barrier encased his body.

The dragon held out for a few more seconds before she could breathe no more, and it took a long ragged gasp. “Carver, now!” Hawke cried, but the dragon once again began to inhale.

The dragon swiped away the melting boulder, leaving Hawke completely in the open. Carver cried out dashing from the dragon’s flank and buried his greatsword deep between two scales in the dragon’s neck where it snapped off. Blood squirted from the wound and the dragon breathed out short premature flames that Hawke was able to dodge. Carver then grabbed the Armorwing, aimed it at the wound, and shot several rapid ice bullets. The ice burst through the other side of the dragon’s neck, the bullet’s sizzling against the stone as they bounced off. The dragon bellowed, stomping all across the ground, causing an earthquake and Carver struggled to maintain his footing as he dodged the dragon’s swipes.

Boof barked, charging at the dragon his hackles raised and chomped down on the wound Carver just made. The dragon flailed, trying to shake the dog off as he shredded the wound. The ground shook, knocking Carver off his feet. Hawke dove forward while the dragon was distracted and rolled under her head where the soft underside of her mouth was exposed. He drew his staff from his back, and with mana-enhanced force he jabbed the blade upwards through the soft scales into the roof of the dragon’s mouth snapping it’s maw shut and snuffing out the flames. Hawke cried out, channeling all his energy into one large lightning bolt that amplified through Hawke’s staff and sizzled the dragon, frying its brain. The dragon’s head swerved and began to fall and Hawke rolled and kept rolling until her seventy-pound head shook the ground with a thud.

The dragon twitched, flapping its wings erratically as it tried to take flight again. She attempted to open her mouth, but the slick black staff held firmly in place. Flames shot through its teeth and nostrils as it rattled its last breath. It’s great red eye slit focused on Hawke, his reflection staring back as the life seeped out of the creature until the dust settled and all was silent.

Varric stepped out from behind his melted boulder, Bianca still raised at the creature. “Andraste’s flaming tits. You idiots did it.”

Hawke threw up his arms whooping as loudly as he could. Flames shot from Hawke’s mouth, a stream of triumphant fire blasting over the dead dragon as he mimicked her breath. Carver tackled him screaming excitedly, snuffing out the flame. Both of their cries bounced off the mountains of the Bone Pit. Soon Boof was shaking himself off and joined in howling on top of a boulder, safe from the heat of the hot stone. Hawke grappled Carver, trying to corral his head into a noogie, “Fuck yeah, little bro. First fucking dragon! Who’s kick-ass now!”

“Get off me,” Carver laughed twisting out of Hawke’s grasp quite easily since he was about a whole a head taller and twice as broad. “You idiot! You almost got us all killed.”

Merrill giggled, as the brothers wrestled for dominance. The mabari stayed barking at the brother’s, demanding one of them pay attention. The brothers twisted and squirmed, until Carver slammed Hawke into the ground, forgetting the stone still glowed with heat.

“FUCK!” Hawke’s scream echoed and he jumped to his feet, the back of his arms were singed and stinging. He had already been nursing burns and this just reopened them. Embers flaked off his leather armor and faded as they fell.

“FUCK!” Carver’s hands were sweltering where he had caught himself on the hot stone. His fingers trembled in the pain, parts of his palms bubbling.

“What kind of idiot gets more hurt after the dragon battle?” Varric chuckled. He was writing something in his travel notebook.

“The kind of idiocy that’s genetic,” Isabela rolled her eyes as the brothers nursed their wounds.

“You guys should be thanking me,” Hawke called back. “That was awesome!” He was already running his hands over Carver’s so they weren’t as much of an angry brown-red. Then he ran a spell through his whole body, the stinging easing just a bit. When he was done, he finally noticed that Boof was licking his paws, also bloody with burns. “Oh Boof, I forgot your shoes.”

“Are you all alright?” Merrill called out. Speaking of shoes, Merrill’s had no soles in spite of Hawke’s and Isabela’s insistence she get a sturdy pair of boots. Even if she did, everyone’s shoes were melting into the stone. She was still at the edge of the platform, safe, but trapped.

Hawke ran up to the boulder that Boof had taken refuge on. He was laying on his side panting, but with happy eyes. Lucky dug into his blood to fuel one more regeneration spell, his hands closing the burns on Boof’s back paws. Boof licked his dark gold snout, closing his eyes as Lucky worked.

The skin was growing, but it still looked tender.

Still need to visit Anders.

“You did great, bud,” he rubbed the dog’s floppy ear affectionately then hoisted the pup up over his shoulders so he wouldn’t have to walk on the scorched ground. The dog turned his head, licking Hawke’s cheek.

Then Hawke walked over to the dragon head and put one hand on its snout, the scales still warm. The Abyssal’s head was as half as big as Hawke’s body and he felt this great sense of peace as he gazed into the dragon’s eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of getting close enough for forever and...” he couldn’t finish his thoughts and turned to Varric, odd eyes gleaming with excitement. “You think we can bring the head with us?”

“Why in the Maker’s name would you want to?” Varric snorted.

“I don’t know. It’s cool.”

“Where in Gamlen’s hovel where would we store it?” Carver said.

“Fine, then I’m at least taking a tooth or else no one at the Hanged Man will believe me. Wait! Someone take a picture!”

“I got a selfie stick,” Isabela cried out digging through her bag.

“Um, you guys go ahead,” Merrill called out at the gathering group, still stuck at the edge of the platform. “I think I might just wait until the ground cools down.”

The group exchanged glances before Hawke nudged Carver. His brother looked annoyed that he was shoved. Boof licked Carver’s head as Hawke leaned in close. “Go be a gentleman,” he whispered, winking.

Carver blushed deeply, Isabela and Varric snickering. Carver undid the strap of the Armorwing, handing it back to Hawke to put away. “Uh…Merrill?” he started out awkwardly taking only a single step forward.

“Yes, Carver?” she called back.

“If you’d like I could…carry you?” Carver looked like he might keel over.

Her green eyes lit up in relief, but her pointy ears twitched slightly. “Oh, I wouldn’t wish to be a bother.”

“Ridiculous!” Hawke cried, shoving Carver forward with his free hand,“Carver’s great a picking up beautiful girls.” Immediately Merrill went beet red all the way to the tips of her ears. Boof barked as Hawke’s grip slipped putting the Armorwing back into the portal. Quickly, he hoisted the dog back up onto his shoulders.

“Lucky,” Carver said warningly, looking nervous as he gazed back at him.

“Go get her,” Hawke whispered.

The three of them unashamedly ogled as Carver, red-eared, walked up to Merrill his feet slightly dragging. He rubbed the back of his neck avoiding her gaze. She had a habit of staring intensely and Carver couldn’t seem to stand the scrutiny. “Would you like a piggyback or would you prefer bridal style?”

“Bridal style!” Hawke hooted, causing Carver to glare at him murderously.

“Oooh, swoop her up in those big strong arms!” Isabela teased.

“That’s my vote!” piped Varric.

“It’s not a vote!” Carver bristled, his brown freckled skin deepening all the way down to his neck.

Merrill seemed to look confused, not quite understanding what Hawke, Varric, and Isabela saw as so amusing. “Um…I don’t know what either of those mean so just…whatever makes you most comfortable.” She held out her arms straight out towards Carver, unsure what was going to happen.

Carver awkwardly leaned down since he was a head and a half taller, and placed her hands on his shoulder. “Kind of link your hands so you don’t fall-”

She removed her hands from his shoulders and clasped her hands together, waiting for her next instructions. Carver, not wanting to correct her, tried to push his head through the hole in her arms but his head was so big he just pushed her arms up, confusing Merrill.

“You’re brother’s real smooth, Hawke,” Varric chuckled.

“It’s like watching a drunk monkey pet a cat,” Isabela cringed.

“Yup,” Hawke replied. This was painful.

Finally, he thought to grab her hands, unlink them, throw them around his neck and then press them back together before he finally scooped her up by the knees causing her to yelp in surprise.

He steadied himself as she flailed squeezing onto him and then carried her back to the dragon where Isabela was fixing her phone onto the stick. “Finally, lovebirds,” she teased.

Carver glared at her in an effort to shut her up but she just waggled her eyebrows as she extended the stick and then held it up in the air. They huddled around the dragon head with Hawke sitting on top, gripping each horn. His dog still draped around his shoulders licking his lips and panting heavily. Carver was carrying Merrill to his right, Merrill smiling sweetly, but Carver’s face looked uncomfortably serious. Varric and Isabela were to Hawke’s left, both linked arm in arm and grinning. Isabela was making a peace sign.

“Say “dragon!” Hawke yelled out.

“Dragon!” only Merrill and Hawke called out as they snapped the picture.

They took several more photos since Isabela didn’t like how she looked in the first one. She held up the group for 5 minutes adjusting her hair and make-up in the camera on her phone. When they finally got a picture Isabela didn’t hate, Hawke insisted he has one with his head inside the dragon’s mouth. It took a bit to pry out his staff and he also got a lot of drool in his hair for that idea. Then Hawke picked the biggest, sharpest tooth he could find took 15 minutes of digging it out with his dagger. Boof scrambled off of Hawke’s shoulders and settled himself on the dragon’s neck, watching his packleader work. Finally, when Hawke successfully pulled out the tooth and put it in his pocket, the party turned to leave. But Hawke, instead of following, turned the dragon’s head on its side started sawing at the dragon’s throat.

“Lucky,” Carver said warningly. “We’re not taking the head with us.”

“I’m not,” Hawke grunted, tearing the dragon’s throat-wound open gingerly, his hands slick with blood.

“Uh…Hawke gets a little crazy around dragons.” Varric stared at Hawke like he was completely unhinged.

“You have no idea,” Carver muttered.

“Just a sec.” Hawke couldn’t focus on talking. He set the bloody dagger down on the dragon’s head and used his hands to peel down the top of the muscles gingerly. Then when he had a big enough opening, he dug his hands into the dragon's throat. He didn’t have to go very far to find what he was looking for, the Abyssal’s flame sac. Carefully, he felt around until he could see in his mind exactly what the gland looked like. Then pulling out his right bloody forearm, he picked up the dagger again and slid it inside, carefully shearing away the tendons that held the firm sac in place.

The party watched in horror as the blood gushed onto Hawke, who seemed to not mind it one bit. The sounds of squelching and ripping filled the air and Isabela looked queasy. “Anybody bring a bucket?” she covered her mouth.

When it was free, he tucked the blood-drenched dagger back into his sheath on his belt and pulled out a small red fleshy ball that’s center glowed orange. Its thick skin was veiny, almost see-through and it beat like a heart.

“Isn’t it amazing? It’s her flame sac.” Hawke breathed excitedly. “Look her magic lives, but it’s not as warm as I thought it would be.”

“Uh…that’s great Hawke,” Varric replied. He was eyeing his friend, who was drenched with slick, steaming dragon blood from his face all the way down to his melted boots.

Isabela whistled, “Good call. An extinct dragon gland can probably fetch at least 100 sovereigns. Maybe more in the right circles.” She dared a peek just in time for it to beat. She gagged and turned away. “Glad I didn’t have to do it.”

“We can probably fund the expedition with this!” Carver said.

“I was thinking of giving it to Merrill, actually,” Hawke replied, causing the Dalish elf’s eyes to widen in surprise in Carver’s arms. “I mean we’re not too far off from funding the expedition and Abyssal flame sacs are especially potent at cleansing magics. Perhaps it will help purify your eluvian shard?”

Merrill’s green eyes were so wide Hawke thought he might fall in. “Oh, n-no, Hawke, I couldn’t. You need it more,” her face was red as she stammered.

“We can find coin anywhere,” Hawke shrugged, “but restoring an eluvian? That’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Besides that barrier probably saved my life. I owe you,” He smiled at Merrill who was beaming back until he met Carver’s gaze. Somehow he had pissed him off.

“Um,” Hawke said awkwardly, “I’ll just put it away until we can store it properly.” He was suddenly feeling self-conscious. He waved his hand opening up an interdimensional portal and stuck the sac in the reflective portal before closing it, his brother still glaring coldly.

“Great, great,” Varric muttered. “Now can we go home. My pants are singed and I think all the rubber’s melted off my shoes.”

Hawke leaned on Varric, slicking blood onto him. “Buy me a drink, Varric. I’m a dragon-slayer now.” He waved his hand into a fist dramatically.

“It’s your turn, dragon-kook,” Varric groaned as he looked at his clothes, an impression of blood slick where Hawke had made contact.

They bantered and teased Carver all the way back to Varric’s car. At one point Isabela had to flee from one of Hawke’s blood-drenched hugs. Merrill had not noticed she was being carried the whole time until they arrived at the car which caused Isabela to hone in on Carver’s reddening face. “You didn’t realize? Really, Carver? Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“Ask me out to what? That sounds fun!” Merrill cried.

Carver looked like he would crumble under the laughter.

On the way home, Hawke had been forced to strip down to his small clothes and hose down with magic before Varric would let him into his car.

“You’re easy to get naked, Hawke. I just have to ask.”

Carver refused to look at him. Merrill was red, fidgeting with her seat belt refused to even glance at him the whole time. When Hawke tried to make conversation she would squeak and refuse to say anymore. Isabela stared in approval. “You do keep fit.”

Hawke refused to part with the dragon tooth and he refused to clean it. He wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was. Varric did made him put it in a plastic grocery bag so it wouldn’t drip and he clutched it happily. He rode home with one towel beneath him so he wouldn’t wet the seats and one towel draped over his shoulders. His curly hair was frizzing and messy. Boof’s head laid on Hawke’s lap as he sprawled across his brother and Merrill, his feathery healing paws now wrapped, and twitching in his sleep.

“You know, Hawke, I had a thought,” Merrill’s eyes were purposely averted from him, her voice high and uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Merrill,” he looked over to her and she dared a peek. His one brown eye, one blue met hers, and she gasped. Hawke’s unbridled joy was spread in the biggest grin, his brown freckled skin warm and bright, and he was of course completely nude except the tight superhero boxers that clung to his drying skin.

Her eyes went wide and stayed wide as she slowly looked away, her whole body rigid and stiff with some expression Hawke could not decipher. “Uh,” she said and gulped. “Why didn’t you just put the dragon in your portal?”

Everyone’s expressions fell dark as Hawke’s mouth fell open. For a moment he just gawked at her brilliance. “I could kiss you!” he shouted, startling the slumbering pup who barked in protest. Carver clenched his fist, ready to punch him as Merrill suddenly fell and bonked her head on the car window. Hawke obliviously shot forward, placing one hand on the dwarf’s sagging shoulders. “Varric, we need to turn back!”

[duckybeth99]

Protector (Past!Fic)

there’s some refs in here I’m sure won’t be lost on some people lol

———

She hadn’t been much help, but venting his concerns to her made her aware.

Johnny drove fast on his motorcycle, worryingly over the speed limit as he drove into town. He was irritated and just needed to be away from his family. His sister, his dad, his godmother, all of them. Beth was too lost in a fantasy to listen, John wanted to believe everything was fine, and even Moirin was too optimistic for her own good.

She sat him down when he banged on the door, she talked to him and urged him to use a quieter voice while her children slept. Muttering an apology, he vented his worry, but again, she said he was too paranoid. They just couldn’t see what was right in front of them. Maybe he would go back when they could.

Johnny drove down to the diner, one of his favorite places to eat aside from Tony’s. It was one of the few places open 24/7. Johnny parked his bike and slid his helmet off, heading inside. Only the owner and one waitress were the staff there. Johnny sat up on the counter’s stool, glancing over his shoulder. One old man reading a book in a booth, and—

Marianna?

“What’ll it be?” the waitress interrupted Johnny’s thoughts. He scratched the back of his hair.

“Uh,” he mumbled, ducking down his head. “A milkshake. Strawberry. Thanks.” The waitress went over to the sofa fountain and Johnny stared down the bar at his friend. He slowly got up from his stool and sat beside her.

“Hey.” Marianna nearly jumped. When she saw who it was, she relaxed.

“Hey. I... haven’t seen you in a while.”

“How’re you holding up?” Marianna didn’t answer. “Yeah, uh... bad question. I know what it’s like. You, uh, mind if I sit?”

“No,” Marianna softly murmured. Johnny slid onto the stool beside her. She had a soda almost empty. As Johnny was about to wave the waitress over, she shook her head. “Don’t. I don’t need a refill. I just... came for some place to think.”

“Same here,” Johnny sighed. “Do... you want to talk about it?”

“I just needed to get away from my parents,” Marianna said. The waitress brought Johnny his milkshake. “My mom is taking it hard. Stella doesn’t know what to do, and my dad is trying to be a counseling anchor but then who’s gonna help him?” She played with her straw between her slim fingers. “And then there’s me. Body’s finally healing from the crash, but my brother is gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny murmured. Marianna gave a sad smile.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “It was a freak accident. Nobody was found in the car that hit us, it just... flew. The finances are going nuts because nobody knows who to pin blame on.”

“Yeah,” Johnny breathed slowly. But he was there when Beth screamed at the phone call. When she sobbed and said Alex was killed. John called the Wilsons and shortly after, there was Merhib in their house, slinking through the shadows. Bragging about his doing. He wanted to tell her so bad. Tell her it wasn’t her fault, tell Marianna that it was monsters, but—

But it’s a secret, Johnny.

He heard the words in his father’s voice; nobody can know. Nobody can know about these things. You can’t tell anyone Beth is back. You can’t show your powers. You can’t tell about the UpSideDown. You don’t know who you can trust.

But people found out Beth was back. But he showed his powers when he tried to save those stupid kids, at that party, when the gym exploded, when the news called it a freak accident, all those people who couldn’t know the truth of what happened to their kids—

“Johnny?”

Johnny blinked his eyes open, not realizing how tightly shut they were. His grip on his plastic cup would have shattered it if it had been glass. Electricity crackled down his spine.

“Sorry,” he shook his head. “I’m fine.” Marianna gave a thin, tired smile.

“I... I know you get it,” she said. “How Beth died. I... I can’t believe Alex wanted to get her a gift for her grave. He... he really liked her.” Johnny blinked and raised his brows.

“He did?”

“Yeah,” Marianna rested her cheek in her hand. “He... he had the biggest crush on her since middle school. He was so shy, but my whole family knew. We tried to get him to say something, but he never did. And when she died... he was a mess. Then, all of a sudden, he perked up, like a month later. Maybe Dad was helping him go through stuff? I don’t know. But he was happy again. He would text somebody all the time, and we thought maybe he made a new friend who was helping him. And one day, he asks me to take him to one of those fancy stores at the mall, that sell crystal figures and stuff? And he buys this crystal heart! I had no idea where he got the money. But I was starting to think he had a double life, haha. Anyway, we were driving home, and he finally told me what he planned to do with it: he was going to put it at Beth’s grave for her. And I thought, ‘what a waste’, you know? It was something he should have waited to do for Dìa de Los Muertoes, but... he was so excited so I didn’t say anything. And that’s when I realized it didn’t matter to him. Because he really loved her. I put it there at her grave for him, since he couldn’t. You should have seen it, Johnny. It was gorgeous. A crystal heart, all blue, in this tiny box, wrapped in velvet...”

Johnny choked on his milkshake.

Aquilo’s gift—no, it couldn’t be—

“Are you okay?” Marianna patted Johnny’s back. He spat out the last of his milkshake and wiped his lips.

“Uh, yeah,” his voice was still corse from the coughing. “I’m fine.” Marianna waited a moment, then gently took her hands off his back. She sighed.

“Anyway,” she played with a strand of her hair, “thanks for listening to me. I... haven’t really had any place to talk about this where my dad didn’t try to get involved.”

“No problem,” Johnny forced a smile. He knew it. Aquilo wasn’t what he seemed.

“Is there... something bothering you?” Marianna asked. “You’re not one to show up to this place close to 11 at night.”

“Needed to think,” Johnny admitted. “I was frustrated with stuff at home.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“No,” Johnny shook his head, standing up. “I think I’m okay now. I just needed time away from them. And talking to you actually helped.”

“Really?” Marianna blinked. Johnny hadn’t noticed the bags around her eyes that formed as of late. She gave a tiny smile. “Well... glad I did, then.” Johnny smiled back. He set cash on the counter and jutted his head outside.

“Need a ride?”

“I think I’ll walk home.”

“It’s dark. You know how this town gets.”

“Always the protector, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Always the protector.”

———

After dropping her off at home, he decided to do a little investigating on his own. Just as Marianna had told him, he drove to the Riverview cemetery and looked for her grave. He remembered fairly decently where it was. Johnny stopped right in front of it, and a wave of emotions hit him. Anger. Hurt. He shook his head and swallowed. Now wasn’t the time.

Johnny crouched down and looked at the grave. Dead flowers in a bouquet, probably also left by Marianna. But no gift. There was, however, a small indent where it sat alone for a while. Johnny stood back up. He wasn’t paranoid. He was on to something, and he was going to prove it to his family.

Soon back at home, the next day, Johnny waited in the kitchen for his dad and sister to wake up. He didn’t sleep much. He stared at his milk in front of him and empty bowl of cereal. John woke up soon enough, yawning into the back of his hand.

“Work today, son?” he asked as he looked through the fridge to make breakfast. Johnny mumbled so quietly his father barely heard. “Hm?”

“No,” Johnny spoke louder. John blinked and set down his pan for eggs.

“You alright, Junior?” he approached Johnny. Johnny nodded. “You don’t look like you got enough sleep.”

“Lot on my mind.”

“Well,” John sighed, “after you left in a huff last night, I did some thinking of my own. And... if I invalidated your feelings, that wasn’t what I meant at all. I understand where you’re coming from, Junior, I really do. Believe me, all those thoughts you were saying were ones I had similarly for a time. But at some point, you realize it isn’t real. And you’ll be fine. It does no good to stay in worry all your life. Believe me, son.”

“I do,” Johnny shook his leg under the table. “Is Beth up yet?”

“Hm?” John glanced upstairs. “No, I suppose not. Mind waking her up for me? Don’t want her missing breakfast. She’s always been a twig.”

“Pops, she can’t gain weight as a ghost.”

“It’s the principle of it. Thought that counts?”

Johnny rolled his eyes and headed up stairs. He only paused when his father cleared his throat, “And I feel this goes without saying, but don’t mention all that we’ve been talking about to her, alright? You know how she feels about us, ah... talking about things like this.” Johnny gave a quiet nod and headed to his sister’s room. He stared at the paint on the door she did herself for a moment, then knocked. When no answer came, he pushed open the door.

“You decent?” he asked. Beth only mumbled through her pillow and clung to it more. “Just sleepy. Come on, Pops wanted me to wake you up.”

“Five more minutes,” Beth groaned. Johnny looked down at one of the pillows she tossed off and threw it playfully at the back of her head.

“C’mon, you gotta eat before lessons,” he said. Beth let out a muffled, exasperated grumble into her pillow, but lifted her head. “Oh, and uh, I’m gonna take you today. And sit in.” Beth blinked her eyes sleepily and rubbed them.

“Can I ask why?” she mumbled. Johnny shrugged.

“No reason,” he gave a smile, “just felt like it.” He spotted the crystal heart on Beth’s desk. From the light that peaked behind Beth’s curtains, he could see it shine and reflect on the walls. It was just as Marianna described it last night.

Breakfast went on normally, Beth being groggy and annoyed until she ate some of John’s cooking and perked up. Instead of eating with them, Johnny just sat there, waiting. He rubbed his nails anxiously while he waited, needing something to do with his hands. Indiana trotted up under the table and Johnny switched to petting him while he waited. He never noticed how good John was at small talk, saying things that didn’t end up mattering.

His sister got up to get ready for the day, and Johnny bolted upstairs to get dressed himself. His dog followed him, rolling around and laying in scattered piles of dirty clothes across the floor. Johnny went over to his dog and petted him once more, trying to get over his antsy feeling. Soon enough, Beth was dressed and knocked on Johnny’s open door.

“I’m ready to head out now,” she said. Johnny gave Indiana one last scratch.

“I’ll meet you at the garage,” he stood up. “I, uh, forgot something. Really quick.” Beth shrugged with a roll of her eyes, but did as Johnny asked. Once he heard her going down the stairs, he rushed to her bedroom and grabbed the crystal heart. He tucked it into his jacket pocket.

Finally at the Aster house, the witch mentor was surprised to see the two there.

“Johnny?” Virginica began, “I wasn’t expecting you to join Beth in her lesson today.”

“Is that a problem,” Johnny’s voice held almost a venomous pinch to it. He saw Virginica’s expression twitch for a split second. She shook her head.

“Of course not,” she smiled. “I simply like to know when I have company so I can treat them accordingly. But please, both of you enter.” She stepped aside and allowed the siblings in. Beth immediately began to chat with Virginica, and Johnny glared up at the staircase. He could see through reflections of ice that Aquilo was hiding up there. Johnny narrowed his eyes.

“Excuse me, Ms. Aster?” Johnny looked to Virginica, “Where’s Aquilo?”

“Oh, he was going to help me with the lesson today,” Virginica waved her hand. “But he wasn’t feeling his best.”

“Can I talk to him?” Johnny asked. Virginica looked confused. “I mean, he is dating my sister. I like to get a read on people.”

“But you’ve already met—“

“It’s best to just let him do whatever,” Beth sighed defeatedly. “He’s kinda pigheaded like that.” Virginica gave a chuckle that Johnny could tell was forced. He knew this was all a charade. Still keeping his stance, he glared at the witch.

“Fine, fine,” Virginica brushed her hand through the air, the other on Beth’s shoulder, “we’ll be here then, if you need us.” Virginica began to lead Beth away, and Johnny followed up the grand staircase. He glanced down behind him and saw the arctic fox watching his every move.

It’s eyes were different. He could tell even from the distance. Johnny shot a warning spark near the cat. It didn’t flinch.

Johnny followed the stairs up to where two doors stood. Everything was still carved with ice. The door that was more elegant, he assumed was Virginica’s. He’d look in there later. Johnny went to the other door and pushed it open.

Aquilo had his back to Johnny, staring at the wall. In the dark, icy room, Johnny could barely see anything outside of the brief light that let through the open door. He took another step in, and the door slammed shut behind him.

“You have powers of your own,” Aquilo slowly turned his head, glaring over his shoulder at Johnny. “I almost thought none of you but Beth did. But I had suspicions. What warm electricity you have.”

“How did you—“ the cat. Johnny balled his hands into fists. “Alright, I’m not here to play your little game. I’m here to put an end to this. You, Virginica... I knew you were liars. Too good to be true, too perfect.”

“So,” Aquilo shrugged, turning around, “what are you going to do? I stole a gift for her, whatever.” Johnny pulled the heart out of his pocket and glared at it in his hand.

“This wasn’t yours to give,” he growled. “Maybe Alex was too much of a wimp to say he loved Beth, but at least he actually did care. You just waltz in and sweep her off her feet... for what?”

“I’m afraid that’s none of your concern.”

Johnny charged Aquilo, grabbing him by the neck and pinning him against the wall. He drew back a fist. Aquilo only gave pained laughs.

“She’ll just think you’re paranoid,” Aquilo said. “You have no real evidence.”

“The heart—“

Aquilo flicked his wrist, and the gift shattered. Johnny dropped Aquilo and ran to the pieces.

“She’ll just think you stole it and broke it,” Aquilo teased coyly. “Because you did. I wouldn’t have had to do that if it wasn’t for you. It really is your fault.” Johnny felt his electricity spark up. In a blind anger, he grabbed Aquilo again, pressing his hand against his chest, shocking him. Aquilo yelled.

What felt like only seconds later, Virginica threw open the door and gasped at seeing her son on the ground, in pain and trying to get back up. Beth followed, looking shocked at the scene. She saw the broken heart on the ground. She gasped and hesitantly reached for the pieces.

“You are not welcome in my home!” Virginica shouted at Johnny. “I want you out, away, leave us be!”

“Not without Beth,” Johnny grabbed her wrist. Beth glared and pushed him away.

“What is wrong with you?!” she snapped.

“I’m just trying to protect you!”

“This isn’t protection! This is obsession!”

“Virginica? Johnny? Beth? Where are you?”

Everyone upstairs froze at hearing John downstairs. The old man hurried the best he could, looking confused and flustered at everyone. Johnny, electricity still crackling, distressed Virginica, enraged Beth, and weak Aquilo. He frowned at Johnny.

“What did you do?” he asked. Johnny only pushed himself away from everyone else.

“I did what I had to,” he pointed down at Aquilo. “He doesn’t love Beth, he’s manipulating her, and both of these assholes are putting up a fuckin’ facade!” John looked to the Asters, then back at his son. “Dad, please, listen to me. When have I ever lied about this?! They’re the people you don’t know! So wake up out of the fantasy that everything is fine, because it’s not! Who do you really trust?!”

Beth slowly released the tension on her face. She glanced down at Aquilo on the floor. John stared for a long moment at his son and sighed.

“Ms. Aster,” he slowly turned to face Virginica, “I’m sorry. But I have to believe my boy.” Virginica looked at Aquilo who finally was standing. Her expression was difficult to read. “However, we can mediate the situation, talk this out and—“

Aquilo quickly shouted a spell, and all of the Bosteaus fell unconscious to the floor.

———

When he blinked awake, the first thing he saw was the siphon.

John’s brown eyes, bleary and trying to make sense of what he was seeing, didn’t want to believe it. But he recognized such technology. Though, the one he had seen was an older style than this one. But the labs had used siphons before. As the old man tried to move, he found his body still, suspended in time. He glanced down and saw the runes written around him on the floor.

A common trap, but powerful. Leaving the person forced still once they were placed inside the ring. He tried to move his head, but it didn’t work. He pushed his eyes, trying to see the best he could, and his children were beside him, in the same fashion. He tried to move his lips, wake them up, but again, no motion. His body felt numb.

“They’re waking up, Mother,” Aquilo spoke up, turning to view the family in front of a wall covered in ancient writing. He shut the book he was holding. Virginica’s dark chuckles could be heard throughout the walls.

“Nice if you to wake up,” she hummed. “What a clever little boy you have, John. Able to see past everything better than even you. Oh, I knew from our first meeting how paranoid you would be. But sending calming aura spells to you helped. Upping our act helped. However, as ashamed as I am to admit, my lack of thought proved itself with that son of yours.” John tried to speak. He felt his vocal chords move, his lips twitch. Only groans came out. “No need to respond. Nothing moves inside of there.”

Aquilo slowly went up to Beth and gave her a teasing smirk, “You were the easiest to trick. So naïve. So trusting. It was cute. You were ready for anyone to say they loved you, weren’t you? How... hm, to put it mildly: utterly pathetic.” Louder groaning came from Johnny. Aquilo rolled his eyes, “Oh, shut it. You heard Mother. You can’t talk in there. I know that’s a problem for your big mouth and tiny brain, but try and keep up.”

Beth glanced her eyes down at the runes. Written with simple chalk. She farted her dark brown eyes fast around the room. John shut his eyes tight, focusing, bring forth your heat—

“If your powers require to be created from movements and your physical body,” Virginica tilted her head with a proud smirk, “they won’t work. Try and summon any powers, John. You’ll only make yourself tired. Electricity, fire, ice... you’re a nice variety. But we’re only here for the ice. You two are just trapped to not interfere.”

“The siphon is almost ready,” Aquilo glanced up at the large contraption. “Almost done warming up.”

“Finish writing the text on the wall, dear,” Virginica smiled at her son. “I’ll watch over these ones.” He did just as he was told. Johnny could feel his body sparking with energy that wouldn’t release. He couldn’t spring it out without moving, without control. Neither could his father.

He glanced over at Beth for a moment. Why couldn’t she have listened, why couldn’t she have just gotten control, why did she have to believe these people—

He noticed a cloth, moving limply on its own against the floor. He did his best to look at Beth’s face. Her telekinesis. She could use it without gestures. Her eyes still worked and so did her mind. That’s all she needed. Johnny kept making noises at Virginica to distract her. She only rolled her eyes.

“You’re an annoying little boy,” she grumbled. “I hope you’re aware of that. You never know when to stop. If you had just let us do what we needed, none of this would have had to happen. You tried to be the hero. Now you see where it got you.”

Wiping away just even part of the runes released Beth. She dropped to the floor, free from the trap, gasping. John looked in shock down at her. Virginica’s eyes went wide.

“How did you—?!”

Now further in control, she pushed her hand out to wipe away the runes of the other traps, releasing her family. Johnny charged up the electricity in his hands, and once he had his bearings, John began to summon his fire. Virginica and Aquilo looked with a cold anger.

“You want to play? Fine. We’ll play,” Virginica said, her voice low. She looked at Aquilo and nodded her head. Aquilo smirked. He raised his arms in the shape of an x, fists balled up, before slashing them down. In a bright light, he summoned magical blades that curled like a scythe against his arms.

“I think summoning weapons is an unfair advantage, man,” Johnny blinked. Aquilo smirked.

“The time for a fair fight is over,” he said. In the next moment, he charged at Johnny, shouting and trying to slash him with the blades. He summoned more against his legs, raising it high in a kick. Johnny ducked and backflipped out of the way.

“Pretty agile for a human!” Aquilo laughed. He slammed his blade into the wall, narrowly avoiding stabbing Johnny in the shoulder.

“Johnny!!” John began to hurry to his son’s defense, but Virginica blasted ice at his face, making him stop and shiver violently.

“You’re mine,” she hissed. John threw a glob of lava at the floor near Virginica. He looked over at his daughter.

“Beth, run!” he shouted. “Get out of here, get back home!”

“Not without you guys!!” Beth looked around the room. She levitated objects around the room, flinging them at the witch. John looked to the siphon and pointed at it.

“Start breaking it apart!” he said. “Hurry!” Beth nodded and focused, holding her hands out at the siphon.

Johnny kept narrowly avoiding Aquilo’s attacks, as he slashed and tried to stab him. The older man slid on the icy floor out of the way, charging up a small ball of electricity in his hand. He blasted it at Aquilo. The young sorcerer yelled, unable to move as he was getting shocked. Johnny ran towards the siphon. Charging his power again, he started blasting it to overload it as Beth tore it apart.

“You’re very slow, old man,” Virginica scoffed at John. “And have poor aim.”

“Keep riling me up,” John panted, holding his arm as more molten rock crawled up his pale skin, “and you’ll see what I can really do.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need emotion to power me,” Virginica commented. She mumbled another spell, sending John back with a blast of horrid winds.

As Johnny forced more electricity, he heard a weapon be raised behind him.

“We’re not done yet, Johnny.”

Johnny slid out of the way as Aquilo stabbed into the siphon. He growled as his blade got stuck. Beth, in one more pull, tore apart the siphon enough for an alarm to sound. Aquilo summoned his blades away and glared up at Johnny.

“Get out of here!” John shouted at his children. “Let’s go, now!” He tried to cool his fire as he rushed to follow his children.

“Not so fast!”

Aquilo held out his arms, mumbling a spell that held the family still. Virginica glared at the family.

“We’re not finished yet,” she continued. She shouted a spell, blasting Beth in her chest where her heart would be. The ghost girl gasped.

“What did you do to her?!” John screamed. Virginica smirked.

“Either let her stay here and we do what we want,” she began, “or take her back to the UpSide and see what we did. And risk your lives and everyone else’s.”

“What did you do?!”

“Anything she or that is part of her touches will freeze,” Virginica locked her cold, blue eyes with John’s, “people, objects. Oh, you can touch her just fine, though. And the moment she leaves this Realm, wherever she is will freeze. It will freeze until all who are alive will die. Or, like I said. Leave her here, and everyone else will be safe. We’ll take away all her ice, curse included.”

“Never,” John spat. Virginica rolled her eyes and waved her hand.

“Have it your way, dears,” she said. “Aquilo, you do what you wish with them now.”

Aquilo stopped chanting, dropping the family. But before they recovered the feeling of movement again, Aquilo stared at Johnny. With a smirk, he drew his hand back. Beth’s eyes widened.

“Johnny, watch out—!!”

A blast left Aquilo’s hand to Johnny, making him gasp for air and shiver violently, “That’s for shocking me.” Unable to breath properly or move, John hoisted up his son. He ran with him in his arms, Beth following, out of the ice house.

Once outside, able to function enough, he climbed back onto his bike, his father and sister crowding on the best they could. John held Beth in his arms to prevent her from touching the motorcycle and Johnny. Still shivering slightly, he drove everyone fast back to home.

But the minute they hit Riverview, what Virginica had said began to happen.

Right behind them, storm clouds followed. Beth gasped at seeing it.

“We have to get home,” John shouted over Johnny’s bike and the loud winds. “We have to stop the storm and undo the curse over Beth.”

“Way ahead of you,” Johnny shouted back. He glanced at the road. “Hold on tight! I know a shortcut!”

“Wait, Johnny, no—!!”

Ignoring his father’s pleas, Johnny revved up and drove away from the other cars on the highway and over the edge, launching the flying mechanic of his motorcycle. Almost slamming back into the ground of the woods, he followed the river back to their home.

———

“Breaking news: the entire city of Riverview plunged into a winter storm in the middle of summer. Experts are perplexed on how this single city is enduring temperatures and weather patterns typically reserved for times like December but are occurring in June. The entire city is not just blanketed, but rather covered in snow with no signs of stopping. Could this be an unexpected new development in climate change unforeseen? No answers have been given yet. But experts are advising people to treat this as any other snow storm. Prepare for the possibility of a full blizzard or being snowed in. Gather supplies, stay inside, and stay warm, Riverview. We’ll update you as this event develops. This is Eunice Gilbert, Riverview News.”

Johnny flicked off the T.V. and looked down at his dog. Indiana whimpered. Johnny sighed and pet his head, trying to calm him down, “It’ll be alright, boy. You’ll see.”

John rushed through the house, books in hand, flipping through several at once, “No, no, no, no! Not a damn thing about this!”

“Pops, we knew ice magic was hard to learn about this whole time,” Johnny said. “Whatever we didn’t find before, I don’t know if we’re gonna find again.”

“But there has to be a solution!”

“Sure, but it’s starting to seem like we’ll have to make one of our own. You know, taking parts from each of these spells and antidotes.”

“That could take ages to undo this,” John sighed. “We don’t have that kind of time. The city is getting colder every hour. Maybe every minute.”

“Then we have to find something as fast as we can,” Johnny said. After a pause, his gaze turned to upstairs. “How is she holding up?”

“Let’s just say her emotional status isn’t helping the storms,” John confessed, “and I feel useless to help. I have to focus on this, on the solution to this serious threat, but I want to be there for her.”

“Stay here and do some more readings,” Johnny said. “I’ll talk to her. We’ll take turns if we have to. And once she’s calmed down, we can all figure this out. We’ve got the weight of a town on our shoulders.” Johnny rushed upstairs before John could reply.

The father sighed, “A smaller scale Atlas.”

Up at the door once more, Johnny knocked. He could see the ice spreading past under her door. “It’s Johnny. I just want to talk.” Silence. He gently opened the door.

Beth sat with her legs curled up to her chest, her back to the door and staring out at the storm outside her window. As Johnny carefully navigated the slippery patches of ice, the icicles that sprung forth and threatened to pierce his body, he made his way to the curtains and tugged them shut. Beth lowered her head and pressed her lips to her knees. With a sigh of care, Johnny sat beside her.

“Staring our at it isn’t gonna do any good,” he said. “Beth, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”

“But I was the one who didn’t have control over my powers,” Beth slowly releases her legs and stared at her hands, “I-I was the one who stressed Dad to the point of needing help, I was the one who trusted them and fell for Aquilo—“

“Hey, hey,” Johnny hushed his sister. “It wasn’t just you who fell for it. Everyone else did, too. I didn’t think things would end up like this when I tried to get us all out. But the fault lies on the Asters. They put the curse on you, they’re the ones who lied and didn’t care. They’re the ones who wanted to use you.”

“But if I hadn’t—“

“Saying that is gonna do no good,” Johnny interrupted. “You gotta stop that. Listen to me, to what I’m saying. It wasn’t your fault.” He pressed his hand against Beth’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Beth only stared up at him, unable to touch him. He slowly lowered his arm as she sniffled. A tear slid down her cheek and landed on his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured almost breathlessly. Johnny smiled kindly.

“It’s okay,” he spoke with equal care and honesty. “Come on. We need your help in trying to undo this, okay? And if you can’t, that’s fine, too. Then just check on Oba and her kids, make sure they’re safe in this storm.” Beth slowly nodded and wiped her left over tears with the back of her hand. Finally getting up to help, Johnny followed after her.

Though, where the teardrop touched his hand felt strangely cold.

[team-shithead]

november 24

"I only ask for one thing, Philip, just this one thing!"

"I'm not a little kid anymore! God, it's just one night!"

At the foot of the stairs, Alex and Ella are leaning against the wall, peering up into the hallway with morbid curiosity.

"Pip's gonna win," Ella says.

"Your brother definitely gets his temper from Daddy, but I've known him for twice as long as you've been alive and I'm pretty sure he'd got this in the bag," Alex says.

"Okay, it's a bet, then."

"You have no idea what you're doing!" John shouts.

"Because you don't trust me with anything!" Philip shouts back.

"What's your wager?" Alex asks. Not that it matters--John will win handily, if only because John is competitive as shit and has the power to end this argument by asserting his authority and moving on.

"If I win, I get to come with you to work Friday night," Ella says.

"Okay," he says. "If I win, you have to clean your room."

She wrinkles her nose--she looks just like John when she does it--and offers her hand. They shake just as the voices from upstairs peak again.

"This is stupid!" Philip shouts. "Why the hell should I listen to you anyway?"

Ella raises her eyebrows."Pip said 'hell.'"

"Because I'm your fucking father and I said so!"

Ouch. In the fourteen years that they've been parents, John, Eliza, and Alex had gone out of their way to avoid vague and meaningless orders like that, John most of all.

Ella is torn between being scandalized and delighted. "Daddy said the F-word."

"Oh, baby, your dad's got the absolute worst mouth of almost anyone I've ever known," Alex says. They're both still looking up the stairs at Philip's closed door. "Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and Dad and I were in school, he could construct entire sentences using only the F-word." He does not tell her how weirdly sexy he found that--finds that--because she's his daughter and he'd rather save those mortification points for when she's older and they'll be even more embarrassing.

Eliza appears behind them, frowning, summoned by John's shitty parenting.

"Did he just--"

"Yep," Alex says.

"I told him--"

"I know," Alex says. "I did too. Like, twenty times. But he's John and he's my husband and I love him to the ends of the earth, but I've literally spent over two decades trying to get him to talk about this shit and I've made about three inches of progress."

Ella's attention has turned from Philip's door to her parents, her eyes sharp with keen interest. She doesn't even mention the swear word that accidentally slipped from Alex's mouth. It's getting harder and harder to remember he's not supposed to talk like that in front of the kids now that their kids are older and smarter and easier to talk to about real world issues.

"El, why don't you go see what your sister is up to?" he suggests.

"She's coloring or something," Ella says dismissively.

"Well, why don't you join her?"

"Because I'm not a baby?" Goddammit, who would have guessed that their kids would grow up imitating their smartass parents?

Everyone. Everyone guessed that.

"Eleanora, don't call your sister a baby," Eliza says.

"And," Alex adds, "instead of talking back, scram."

"But how am I gonna find out who won the bet?" she asks.

"Bet?" Eliza's eyes narrow.

Ella tries to look innocent, but she looks too much like John to pull it off.

"Scram, kid," Alex says, just as the voices from upstairs start to rise again.

"--like this?!"

"Don't test me, Philip James Hamilton!"

"UGH!"

The door to Philip's room slams open and El goes wide-eyed, then disappears down to the playroom in the basement. Philip marches towards the stairs, John standing in the doorway to his room, shaking. Eliza looks between the two of them and apparently decides that John is the one most in need of compassion just now. She swoops up the stairs and grabs John's hands, pulling him up to the third floor, to his and Alex's bedroom, without another word.

Which means Alex is left with the shitty job. He grabs Pip's shoulder as he tries to storm by.

"Not so fast, bud," he says. "Come on."

Philip wants to argue, but he closes his mouth when he looks at Alex's face. Instead, he sighs and lets himself be dragged to the dining room table, then pushed into a chair. Alex walks around the table and sits across from him, leaning forward on his forearms. He looks at Philip for a moment and is bowled over by how much of John is in him. It's the great mystery of their family--how Philip, conceived with Eliza and Alex's genetic material, looks so much like John so frequently. His freckles are confined to an even spray across his nose and cheeks and his face is rounder and his eyes skew more towards the brown end of hazel where John's are more green-hazel, but it's still there--the curly hair, the way his ears stick out a little, the way he flashes all his teeth when he smiles.

And, even more so than the physical characteristics there is, of course, the attitude. Fuck, but petulant Philip puts him in mind of petulant John, of the way John used to get when he was depressed and hurting and didn't know how to channel it except through anger and shitty remarks.

"It's one week a year, Pip," Alex finally says. "One night, even. Why do you have to give your dad such a hard time?"

"Because it makes no sense!" Philip explodes.

"As much as you don't want to believe it, there are reasons we do these things, okay?" Alex takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Dad and Mom and I have always tried to be as honest and open with you as we can be, and I'm sorry that we can't say more about this, but you have to trust us, Pip."

"Why, though?" Philip asks. The anger is morphing into something else, something closer to frustration than true anger. "I wasn't doing anything dangerous! I was just going to stay over Devin's--she's got a new game and we were gonna do an online match with Georges and one of his friends."

"I know," Alex says, and he searches for words, for how to articulate it in a way that will get through to him. "But you have to...sometimes, you do things that don't seem important because they're important to someone else, okay? You being home tonight is important to Dad, and I really don't think we ask so much of you that you can't do this one thing for him."

Alex must have hit the right combination of honesty and reproach, because Philip looks down at his hands, his shoulders hunched.

"I just don't get why it's so important," he mutters. "I'm practically an adult what's he gonna be like when I go off to college? Will I have to go home then, too? What about when I get married and have kids?"

"Oh, right, I forgot that at the advanced age of fourteen you're now an adult," Alex says. "How you have time for high school with your fulltime job and mortgage and running a household, I'll never understand, but good on you."

"Ugh, Dad." Philip rolls his eyes spectacularly. Another thing that makes him look like John.

"Anyway," Alex says. "It's...complicated. And, it's not my story to tell."

"Why?"

"Because I promised your dad I wouldn't, for one, but also...I don't know all the details myself." He hopes he doesn't let on how much he hates that fact, how much it kills him that John won't share all of this with him. How badly he wants to shake John after he wakes up from these nightmares, beg him to share the burden. But John's still holding back, after over two decades together, after being married for one of them. They don't fight like they used to, but when they do, it's still about John's secrets. "But, hey, if you're so keen on being an adult, I'll sketch the shape of it for you."

For the first time, Philip looks hesitant. Still, he nods slowly, squaring his shoulders to look taller or more mature or who knows what.

"Okay." Alex exhales. "Okay. So. This started back when Dad and I were in grad school, when we were working for Grunkle George. We had a case--actually, it was one of the first cases your mom came on with us. God, I forgot that. But, shit, that's not important. What's important is that some things happened and the result is that Dad has...Dad has these dreams, sometimes."

"I know about Dad's dreams," Philip interrupts.

Alex shoots him a look. "Not those. These are different. Or the same. Or...something. They come from the same place, probably, but they're not the same thing. These are recurring. The same ones, every year. You know how he gets so weird in July, sometimes? How he gets so weird about me?"

"Clingy," Philip says.

"Yeah," Alex says. "And how he gets weird in August? In a different way?" Philip nods. "Those things and this...." He can't give away John's confidences, but there has to be a way to talk around this. "It's hard to explain and, like I said, it's not actually my story--he's gotta be the one to tell you. And, to be honest, there are a lot of things he hasn't told me. Mommy might know a little more, I think, but I can tell you that they're about us. They're about me in July and they're about you now. The same dream for almost a week, and then they stop and they don't come back until the next year. Detailed dreams. Not the sort of thing that fades when you wake up, something clear and real and lasting that sticks with him. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the same thing and it's something bad and it's something about us. About you, Pip. Every time he's tried to sleep for the past week, he's seen something awful happening to his baby. And it's scary. It scares him. It scares me, if I'm being honest."

Philip is quiet. His attention is focused on Alex, still, his eyes alert, his mouth curved downward. He wants more information. Alex wishes he had more information to give.

"Imagine," Alex says softly, "every time you try to go to sleep, you see something terrible happening to one of us. And it feels real and it doesn't go away. And imagine you're Daddy, and you know that sometimes there's a reason your dreams feel real."

Philip shifts, pulling one of his legs up underneath him, something that he's technically not supposed to do on the dining room furniture if he's wearing shoes, but that's always been Eliza and John's hill to die on more than his, so he lets it go. He leans on his elbows, staring  off to the right, and chews on his lip. When he finally turns back to Alex, he's serious and a little ashamed.

"It would suck," he says, and Alex laughs, unexpectedly. Philip smiles a little.

"Yeah," Alex says. "Yeah, it would suck. And it does suck for him. That's all I want you to think about, okay? That we ask very little from you, when it comes down to it, and we let you get away with far more than you'll ever know we know about, but this is important. This is important to your father, but to me and Mom, too. So, please. One week a year, at most, but at least this one night, help us out and stay close to home."

"Yeah," Philip says. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

The set of his shoulders, the begrudging expression on his face, the curve of his mouth...Alex just shakes his head.

"What?" Philip asks.

"Nothing," Alex says. "Just...." He tilts his head to the side and looks at Philip again. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. "Just, sometimes I look at you and you remind me so much of Daddy."

"I know," Philip says, ducking his head. "The weird genetic lottery thing."

"Not even that," Alex says. Then amends, "Not just that. You do look like him sometimes, somehow. More so when you were younger and your hair was longer. Back in the day, Dad wore his hair long too. Curly, just like yours."

"I remember."

"His is short now too, and greyer, and it's hot, but--"

"Ew, Pops."

Alex grins. "Hey, one day you're gonna be happy and grateful your parents are still madly in love with each other. But that's not the point. The point is, it's not how you look that reminds me of Dad sometimes, it's how you act. You act just like him, just like he was when he was younger, when I first met him. As much as we call El his mini-me, her temperament is much slyer than his was. He was much more like you."

"Mom says that, sometimes," Philip says.

"Mom doesn't know the half of it," Alex admits. "Your mom centered us both a lot. Before we met her, we were both a little wilder, and even after we met her, we just did our best to hide the wild parts from her. But, you know, the more time we spent with her, the less we let those parts get the better of us, until eventually the compulsion was gone entirely. Mommy made us better people because we were both kind of assholes, but this goes beyond that. Dad was...Dad was...."

He doesn't know how to explain it without airing more of John's dirty laundry. For one thing, while they've been fairly open with the kids about the realities of the depression, PTSD, and three different types of anxiety that color their family, there's a difference between explaining that Daddy takes a pill every morning so he doesn't have to be sad all the time and revealing the realities of those fraught years of depressive episodes and suicidal ideation and lingering trauma that shaped John's personality into what it was when Alex met him. For another, though Henry Laurens might not be as much of a fixture in the Schuyler-Hamilton-Laurens house as the Washingtons and the Schuylers, the birth of his grandchildren led to a lot of hatchet-burying that Alex maybe did not entirely agree with. The kids know that John and his father aren't close, but they don't need to know the gory details. Besides, he's confident that while John's attitude was the result of acting out against his family, Philip's like this because he's imitating his family, because he was raised by John and Alex and Eliza, with frequent interjections from Angelica and Peggy and Molly and Herc and the Manning-Lawrences.

"Dad was a lot like you," he settles on. "Which is probably why he dotes on you so much."

Philip actually blushes. "He doesn't dote."

"He does," Alex says. "Which is, I imagine, why you're so mad that he's not letting you get away with something."

Philip frowns, but doesn't refute it. From the dining room, they can hear footsteps on the stairs. Philip releases a long breath.

"You've gotta apologize to your dad," Alex tells him.

"I know," Philip mutters.

"Tell him you love him," Alex continues.

"I know," Philip insists, and pushes himself up from the table, sighing like he's headed to his execution. Alex joins him, putting an arm around his shoulders and leading him out into the living room as Eliza and John cross it. John looks old and it breaks Alex's heart all over again. His instinct is always, always to go to John when he's upset, but he knows he's not what John needs right now. Instead, he nudges Philip forward. Philip's shoulders are slumped and he's wringing his hands, not quite looking at John.

"I'm sorry, Papa," he says. Alex and Eliza exchange a look--Philip hasn't called John that in almost a decade, the parental nomenclature shifting as the kids grew up and simply began to use 'Dad' for both of them.

"I know, baby," John says. He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, then opens his arms. Philip walks right into his embrace and they hug, tight and fierce. "I should tell you some things. I should tell you some things because they're about you, so you should know parts of it, at the very least. You're right--you're not a baby anymore, and I need to trust you with this." He opens his eyes and looks right at Alex. "I need to trust all of you with this."

Alex holds his gaze and nods. John offers him a weak smile.

"It's okay," Philip says. "You were right--I knew you didn't want me to go out, I shouldn't have tried to sneak out. It's only one night. I won't do it again."

Alex can hear John's sigh from across the room, relief pouring out of him. "Thank you," he whispers.

“I love you,” Philip says quietly.

“I love you too, kiddo,” John says.

They break apart and John holds Philip by the shoulders, smiling crookedly. Philip smiles back and through some weird twist of the universe, it's exactly the same smile. Alex thinks his heart might burst.

"Go and help your mom with dinner," John tells him. "And tonight, after the girls go to bed, you and me and Dad and Mommy are going to have a talk, okay?"

Philip nods. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

John releases him and Eliza steps up to nudge his shoulder. "Go into the kitchen and start washing the potatoes off, okay? I'll be in in a minute."

Once he's gone, John's entire body seems to slump forward. Alex crosses to him quickly, wrapping him up in a hug.

"Gumdrop," he murmurs. John's fingertips dig into his shoulders as he returns the hug so hard all the air seems to whoosh out of Alex's chest.

"Fuck," John says. He tries to laugh, but it doesn't come out--his voice is too tremulous for the sound to catch.

"Mon coeur, mon étoile," Alex says. "You're shaking."

"I just kept thinking, what if this is it? What if we have this fight and this is what makes him go out and do whatever it is that...that...." He breathes out, rough and heavy, into the crook of Alex's neck.

"You've gotta stop it with this magical thinking bullshit, John," Alex says. He presses the heel of his palm into John's back, running it up and down his spine, hoping to soothe the last of his lingering anxieties. "No one can predict the future, not even you. Take a breath. Clear your mind."

"Never been good at that."

Alex wishes he could offer the thing that makes his own head quiet down, but as that's John, he's not sure how helpful it would be.

"What needs to stop," Eliza says from behind them, "is the secrets."

Alex and John break apart just enough to turn so they can both look at her. Her voice is soft and quiet, but her face is determined. Alex knows this conversation--it's not the first time they're having it.

"I know," she continues before either of them can protest, "'Secrets and lies aren't the same thing.' I get it. But to cling to this determination not to lie to each other, but to hold onto these secrets for so long...I don't want to say 'I told you so,' but...."

John sighs and tucks his head under Alex's chin. Eliza's not wrong; they're clinging to a pact they made when they were twenty-three and stupid. Years have passed, decades, and they have a family and lives they never could have predicted back then. John's resistance to talking about his feelings may have been cute when they were in grad school, but at this point, it's pathological and Alex is nothing if not an enabler. They've made strides on so many other things, mostly thanks to Eliza--John's mental health, Alex's anxieties, their future, the lines between their business and their personal life, their fears, their hopes--but this topic has always stayed off the table, the things that John sees that aren't the future or the past or the present, but some other thing that's all of that and none of it simultaneously. The only people who know the gory details of all of that are Herc and Washington, and it's driven Alex crazy since they were twenty-three.

"After Pip is in bed," John says, surprising Alex. He was sure John would put up more of a fight. "We'll talk to Pip about the broad strokes, about the dreams, and then we'll talk about the rest."

All these years of secrets, who knew it would be this easy to crack them open?

Before Alex can express as much, there's a low rumble of voices from downstairs that breaks into shouting a moment later.

"Ellie, stop it!" Angie shrieks.

"Don't be such a baby!" Ella snaps back, "I'm not even doing anything!"

Then, as Alex is about to call noses on not cleaning up the pre-pubescent bloodbath in the basement, there's an ominous thunk from the kitchen.

"Uh, Mom?" Philip calls out. "Um...I think I made a mistake."

The shrieking downstairs intensifies. God forbid they ever have a moment of silence in this house.

"I'm going to go see how our supposed genius son complicated cleaning potatoes," Eliza says. "You two go pull the girls apart."

Eliza disappears into the kitchen and Alex and John head towards the stairs. John stops Alex, right at the top, grabbing his wrist and squeezing it.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hi," Alex replies automatically, and John grins.

"I just want you to know--I just want to say...." He frowns. "I don't know. I don't know what I want to say. Except that I'm sorry. That this has gone on for so long and I haven't let you in. Kids aside, you're the person I love most in the world and I wasn't--I wanted to--I never meant--"

"It's okay," Alex says.

"It's not," John insists. "It never has been. I wish I told you all of it at the start. I wish I told you how tangled up it all is. But I didn't want you to worry and then it just...it got...I don't know. It got more complicated."

"Should we schedule a third talk after the one with Pip and the one with Eliza?" Alex means it as a joke, but John shrugs.

"Maybe," he says. "We used to have those check-ins every six months. We haven't had one in a while."

It's been a few years since the last time they took an afternoon off of work to sit down and have a discussion about the trajectory of their relationship, their family, their lives. They started back when Alex began seeing Eliza, but it was such a good habit that they kept it up for years. Then the kids started to get bigger, started to load up on sports and clubs and lessons, and their own schedules were packed even tighter as demands for their professional time continued to rise...Alex thinks Pip was still in elementary school the last time he and John had a check-in.

"Maybe we should," Alex agrees, and John shifts his grip so they're holding hands. They smile at each other, and Alex feels twenty-three all over again.

"ELLIE, STOP!" Angie screams below them and then bursts into tears.

"IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" Ella shouts up the stairs in anticipation of the punishment to come.

The moment passes and Alex feels every one of his years as he looks at John and sighs. There will be time to talk later. For now, they need to go back to pretending they have all the answers for at least as long as it takes to pull Ella and Angie off of each other.

It's going to be a long night.

[kayoiwritingarchivies]

TITLE: We’ve met before, haven’t we? (Part 2)

CHAPTER TITLE: His lucky number is 4

WARNINGS & RATINGS: No warnings apply, Teen and up rating.

FANDOM: Overwatch

SUMMARY:  These three have met the supernatural, whether they wanted to or not. It’s a small world after all. (Or rather, this is the story of how three people keep running into the supernatural, and had favours and boons repaid.

Jack Morrison’s first encounter with the supernatural was when he was 15, overhearing his parent discussion.

“There’s something out there, killing the cows. I don’t know what it is, and honestly, if it ruins more stock, I don’t know what to do…” He heard his father say, and Jack was struck with an idea.

He’s going to get whatever’s killing the cows!

It wasn’t the best idea, but that didn’t occur to him as he snuck into the shed and “borrowed” his father’s shotgun, going out into the wheat field alone.

He’s standing there, in the middle of the field, when something sprung out at the field at him, and Jack didn’t shoot, and just stood in mute terror at the thing flying towards him, only for it to be knocked back by a jackrabbit with antlers.

The horned jackrabbit snarled at the thing, which scampered off, and turned to Jack, who was still paralysed fear.

And then, if the day hadn’t gotten any weirder, the horned jackrabbit spoke.

“What the blazing hell do you think you’re doing kid?” it said in a sort of high-pitched voice. “Trying to go shoot a Chupacabra like that! You suicidal or something?”

“You-I-what…” Jack stammered, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened.

The jackrabbit groaned, and looked at Jack “I’m a Jackalope, which is funny, because my horns are not from an antelope and jackrabbits are not rabbits, but you humans are stupid anyway so what did I expect.” The Jackalope introduced itself. “What’s your name anyway?”

“I’m-uh-what-who.” Jack stammered, still very much overwhelmed by the situation.

“Bah.” The Jackalope said, and turned to leave. “You take care of yourself, ya hear! Don’t want to be saving you again!”

Then it left, hopping off to go knows where.

Jack sat in the wheat field, staring at the empty fields before picking himself and his father’s gun up, trudging back to the farm house.

(Hours later, Jack Morrison would wake up to a pile of fruit on the doorstep of the farmhouse, with a large note reading “idiot” in large, messy letters. Jack didn’t question any of this and walked back inside to scream into a pillow or at his brother.)

-LINE BREAK-

The second encounter was better and worse at the same time, when Jack, fresh out of the SEP program, was currently lost in the tundras of Russia, alone and cold.

His team had disappeared into the blizzard, and his new-found friend Gabriel Reyes was also nowhere to be seen. His com had died ages ago, and even so, he would get no signal in the unforgiving storm of snow and ice.

And god it was cold, the snow already piling up to his knees and the wind howling in his ears, and Jack had collapsed from exhaustion, the last thing he saw was a great flaming bird, swathed in oranges, reds, yellows and golds, descend from the heavens before Jack Morrison blacked out.

When he woke, he was in a house, and he blinked a few times, when an old woman walked in, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah good, you’re awake.” She said, her accent thick but the English was understandable to a certain agree. “I was afraid you were dead.”

Jack patted his body a few times, before turning and saying “Ah, thank you Ms?”

“It’s Baba Yaga, and you should be thanking the firebird that brought you here.” She said, gesturing to a bird sitting on a perch with a weathered hand. “Anyway, you must be hungry. Eat something. I have some Guriev porridge and I expect you to eat some.”

She offered a bowl filled with a yellow-brown mix, topped with nuts, and a spoon, and Jack took it, eating a spoonful. It was warm, and was a strange mic between bitter and sweet.

Jack finished the bowl, setting it on a nearby table, before standing up and picking up his equipment. “You wouldn’t to know the nearest settlement, do you?”

The woman huffed, before declaring “I can do better. I can take you.” Before the house rose up a good 3 metres and began to move, unsteadily, but still rather balanced.

Jack sat back down, as Baba Yaga cackled, and the firebird hummed.

(It was a few hours before they reached a village, where the rest of his team were, ready to tell command that he had gone missing. They asked where he had been, and all Jack could reply with was “Someone found me, and got me here. They were rather nice.” He decided to leave out the whole moving house and firebird portion of the story, and instead, palmed the feather the firebird gave him, now in his pocket. It glowed a cheery red.)

-LINE BREAK-

Jack Morrison is in Switzerland now, the newly appointed strike commander of Overwatch, and he’s alone in the base kitchen in the dead of the night, staring down at a cup of tea between his palms when he hears Hissing. He looks up, only to see a large reptile with two, stubby front legs, it’s cat like head resting on the table, the rest of its body trailing off the table onto the floor.

He blinks.

The reptile blinks back.

Jack’s hand slowly reaches out to the creature, and the creature hisses again, prompting Jack to pull back his hand with a slow “Okay…”

It hisses again, pushing itself off the table, it’s tail smacking into Jack’s legs, moving it’s head to the corridor.

Jack had no choice but to follow after it, and he got up, leaving his tea to grow cold.

They go deeper into the base, the grey and orange hallways seemingly going on forever, the creature scampering around corners, its green scales in stark contrast to the rest of the hallways. Jack hears his own footsteps, the clicking of scales, and soon, they’re at a door, one that leads outside.

Jack didn’t have any weapon on him, bar the pistol he carries, and he opens the door, hand drifting to the gun on his hip as he follows the creature, now out of the base and going deeper into the woods.

That’s when they stumble upon a ring of mushrooms.

Jack doesn’t step in (He’s not an idiot, he knows the consequences for standing in one.) and he only stares as the creature gives out a low hiss, and the ring glows.

There is a ball of light forming, and a woman appears, wings seemingly made from starlight and glass upon her back, and she’s smiling, holding light in her hands.

“Greetings, I am the queen of the Fae, and I wish to speak with you, Jack Morrison.”

Jack stood, staring, not trusting himself to say anything.

The creature mewled, and curled up around the Fae queen’s legs, and she smiled as she regarded Jack. “I come with a gift, a warning and a guide.”

Jack considers before saying, slow and steady “There are always prices. There’s always a price.”

The Queen smiles, and says “There is always a price. I will collect my boon in due time, but for now, here is my help.”

A blue trench coat appears, and she hands him the garment, and he takes it, feeling the weighted cotton and other natural fibres, the pads on the shoulders made from a metal that was coloured blue, and the Overwatch insignia on the shoulders.

“A protection, something that will withstand the greatest of magic, of fire and sleet and snow. It will not tear, it will not rip, and it will not burn.”

He looks it over, and he thinks about the rules, of when accepting gifts from Fae. Then he puts on the coat, and it fits quiet well, the ends of the trench coat hitting his ankles.

The Queen continues, and she narrows her eyes. “I now come with a warning. Someone will betray you, a close friend, and they will cause the world to burn.”

Jack’s fists tighten, and he whispers “Who?”

The Queen cocks her head and replies with a quiet “I do not know.”

The she gestures to the creature wrapped around it’s legs. “He, is a Tatzelwurm. He will guide your way out of the forest, and hopefully later.”

The newly dubbed Tatzelwurm hisses, and pulls on the edges of Jack’s coat. Jack looks down before looking back up at the Fae Queen.

“I-Thank You, your Majesty.” He manages to say, and the Queen only smiles before turning to leave.

“Don’t make my gifts go into vain, Jack Morrison. I do hope we meet again.”

(After making his way out of the forest, he stumbles onto his bed in the base and sleeps the rest of the night off. When he wakes again, the coat is still on his shoulders and a note is left in it’s pocket, with only the words “Be wary.”. Jack doesn’t understand, and burns the note soon after, watching ash flutter into the sky.)

-LINE BREAK-

A year after the Switzerland base exploded, Jack, now Solider:76, roams the world with a stolen pulse rifle and an old jacket. His hair is no longer blond, but now a slivery grey colour, and there is a visor on his face. (His blue coat he keeps too, but it’s almost never worn.)

He’s in Mexico, after a scuffle with the local gang (Los Merutos, he think’s bitterly, are a bunch of shitheads.) and he stops when he sees…a skeleton.

An honest to god skeleton.

Jack almost shoots it, when the skeleton turns, waves it’s skeletal joints about, and yells (Somehow) “Don’t shoot! Don’t Shoot!”

Jack stands there, his visor blocking his face of utter confusion because there is a skeleton, wearing nothing but a pair of pants and a large sombrero, its ribcage on full display.  His skull is painted, covered in whites, blacks, blues and reds, the design circling around empty sockets.

The skeleton gives out a relieved rattle, and looks at Jack in the eye. “Amigo, I don’t know who you are, but you sure ain’t Mexican. Your Spanish is shit.” The skeleton says, a finger tapping against is tactical visor, where the mouth should be.

Jack shifts before saying “I’m from America, up North.” His grip on his pulse rifle tightens, and he’s pretty sure he wants to run.

The skeleton looks at him, and begins to guffaw before saying “Oh, you idiota americano, no wonder you sound so strange. Have you even eaten a good Mexican burrito? You haven’t, have you?”

Jack blinks behind the visor, and he’s suddenly reminded of Gabriel Reyes and Jesse McCree.

“No?” Jack says. “Unless Taco Bell counts?”

The skeleton regards him and says “You poor, poor man.”  

(Later, the skeleton introduces himself as Marco, and drags him to a restaurant, muttering about how “Taco Bell is not real Mexican!” and “Fucking pendejos work there that’s what.” Jack does not bother fighting against the sentiment, reminded about how he’s had the exact same conversation with Reyes so many years ago.)

-LINE BREAK-

The fourth time, it’s at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, and he’s sitting on a couch, watching the sun.

He’s met the new Overwatch, with the D.va girl (She’s too young to be here) who yells at nothing and Hanzo (Who’s quiet, reserved, and stares at empty walls and hallways and mutters about inugami and monsters.)

Jack watches the sun, and then he hears a roar.

At first, he assumes dragons, because Hanzo and Genji seem to have them, then he looks at the beach.

There is a snake like monster on the sand, thrashing, wings at odd angles and two legs scrambling for purchase.

He gets up, opens the window, and scales the cliff.

When he reaches the beach, feeling sand on his bare feet as he walks to the creature, a hand out, quietly saying “It’s okay, it’s alright, I won’t hurt you, it’s okay.”

The monster stops thrashing, judging Jack with careful eyes, before letting him closer.

Jack carefully looks the wings over, seeing broken bones and ripped skin, and he drops a few biotic emitters, letting them take over the healing while he comforts the creature, stroking its nose, and whispering reassurances.

After a few hours of being bathed in the yellow glow of the emitters, the machine’s shut off, leaving Jack and the monster on the beach, both asleep.

It’s the first time Jack sleeps without nightmares.

(Later, he wakes up to Hanzo shaking his shoulder, alarm in his eyes and mouthing “Are you alright?” Jack nods, and stands up, and notices a rainbow fish scale in Hanzo’s hands. He thinks about the fire bird feather in his pocket. The monster is long gone.)

[bittersweet-clifford]

I hate my physics teacher but he says some weird shit. here are his best quotes.

“and she looked like a dweeb but it doesn't matter because she's hot.” “imagine this punk-ass kid...” “ro-day-oh” “*screaming* YEEHAAAAW” “my wife went to a loser school.” “oh. that's where that obama guy went.” “I was president of all these things. okay. you're a loser.” “it’s got a cockroach crawling out of somebody's anus.” “you're a thief and you're a violent offender. go to texas.” “God did not have an eleventh commandment that said a 90% is an A.” “they had another brother. i forget what his name was but he was just there.” “our family is so devoid of talent that when we did the senior musical they told my brother, ‘you move your mouth but nothing comes out.’” “I’m not big on IQ.” “3 times 64. that's...........a lot.” “I think i can. i think i can. oh that was a great book.” “I AM AN ISLAND.” “he was one of those geeks who’d come into my room during lunch.” “Kids will do anything for food.” “Beethoven didn't have good social skills.” “pair-a-bowl-uh.” “g-e-o-meat-tree” “re-nay-sance” “you didn't have velocitom- speedometers.” “and dedicated to the proposition that all men-not women- are created equal.” “newton sat back and said, ‘damn, i took algebra 2.’” “they invented something. it was bitching.” “your little cell phone has an accelerometer on it.” “you get in your damned car right now. you have friggin GPS.” “what is a graph? you guys have no effing clue.” “screw it. this is america, man.” “they got these cheesy ass little- hey...” “and he marries his mom because she's a hottie.” “i'm going ‘no sweat.’ she's goin ‘YEAH SWEAT.’” “they send him off to some hills to die and some idiot saves him.” “trig-no-me-tree.” “if the plane crashes, whatever. little things.” “der-i’ve-a-tive.” “someone help her out. *people give answers* well don't listen to idiots.” “the magnitude of my ineptness.” “he invented something. it was a terrible thing-he invented the essay.” “i threw that at you to see how you interpilate.” “we’re talking so small your kitchen is in your bedroom. as long as you have 16 million dollars, you can have the friend's apartment.” “FROGS ARE NOT AERODYNAMIC.” “you're a genie-ass.” “what says ‘i love you’ more than eating the one you love?” “their bodies will be goop. and this is metaphorical and beautiful. how much closer can you be when you're stirred together?” “the book didn't have a female character because he's a male-dog-anystic pig.” “speaking of time….OOH BABY.” “you had telephones *aggressively slams hand on the wall* MOUNTED ON THE FRIGGIN WALL.” “and some kid goes, ‘yooo my daddy’s rich!’” “it looks like a badminton racket on steroids.” “it was by the skin on her chinny chin chin.” “we’re going to use the weight of history to raise our ramp.” “she was rich. and hot. and i was a dweeb.” “i can't draw a corvette.” “sucker’s gonna exaggerate….ah...accelerate.” “some bum wit says, ‘let’s put tin cans on the back of their car.’” “someone comes up with a big ‘ol truck because this is tennessee.” “you're gonna be wheel meat.” “move aside, pesticide.” “you put this if you wanna be cool.” “anyways, these guys go, ‘bitchin!’” *walks like a crab* “Shula? God?” “tow truck drivers come in two flavors.” “they brought a scale and a hard hat, and they were wearing pajamas. i don't know. this is [school].” “cas goes, ‘see joe? we’ll leave him as a hostage.’” “my brother by accident got accepted to a school in new hampshire.” “this is amazing. I’m shaking God’s hand.” “you know the way buildings work.” “people got upset because it was killing fish, so they decided to kill people instead.” “we’ll call him Joe Jerk because that's kind of what he was.” “i don't believe in slavery.” “energy is like pornography, you might not be able to define it, but most everyone recognizes it when they see it.” “she goes, 'mr [teacher], let’s do it.’ and i go ‘i’m married.’ and she goes, ‘NO, THE BOOK.” “I’m looking for pews. if anyone knows a church...I want catholic pews. they're the best.” “*draws a scribble* let's pretend this is art. ART.” “every once in awhile you run into one that's just so bitchin’ ass cool.” “there's not even a verb there. and this guy went to stanford.” “the right thing? or communists?” “oh, it was so bitchin!” “she looks like a chicken. and i'm like ‘This isn't cosplay.’” “there's spanish and then there's hippies.” “she was old. she must have been like 35.” “Ms. [other teacher] could have played the wicked witch in the wizard of oz.” “if i looked out far enough, i'd probably see a t rex out there.” “he's tighter than a mole’s bum.” “if i speak louder, they'll understand better.” “I. GEORGE.” “i love my mom and she loves me. like a rock.” “you can do it baby” (said three times to an inanimate object in one day.” “1+1 and 1x1 are the same answer.” “i'm using two seconds. if you're a loser, you can use one.” “a football field is like one and a half acres.” “what does that look like for a complete clover look?” “it was a gimungous space bagel.” “because on the black market, your torso can be used.” “he's not donald trump. he is todd. but he's todd-did-well.” “back then, they had a thing called grass.” “what was romeo and juliet in new york called?” “there's many ways to skin a cat.” “thou shall not have a disturbance at the front desk.” “live for your GPA. worship it.” “and then antarctica, where i'm going to send you if you laugh.” “you're in space just hanging out and the earth just hits you!” “if you did google translate from math-ish to english…” “if i happened to be in space and the moon were plowing around, would it hurt?” “russia, i can see it from my winda.” “where’d korea go?” “their last name was broccoli. the stupidest name in the world.” “i'm gonna be the only child i should have been.” “i'm not going to go into gender classification for doorknobs.” “how the hell do you get a lamborghini? that's like, really expensive.” “i liked mary-anne. she was not. and then there was that one actress i hated.” “real, 100% plastic plants.” “do not write this. ‘mister [teacher] thinks he shouldn't be afraid of bombs.’” “you comedysportz kids will get this. *tells story about astronauts.*” “*jumps excitedly* THIS IS SO BITCHIN!!” “bouncy bounce-that's my terminology.” “how did the pound sign get to be called hashtag?” “and you go, ‘what does this have to do with the price of beans?’ and it doesn't have anything to do with beans, but it has something to do with this story.” “Physics is racist.” “This perverted cat...” “You put the lime in the....oh no, that’s the wrong song.” “You know it’s a trumpet. Why? Because it’s got a flag hanging from it.” “WE’RE GONNA GO TO THE YMCA.” “She was very, well...very.” “You don’t have to be able to sing because they've got autocorrect.” “Nothing says ‘i love you’ like cutlery.” “I’ve been lifting weights for six years now and i’m half an inch shorter.” “I don’t have a neck. My muscles are too big.” “Dude, i think i can explain the universe with my saxophone.” “I love you a lot, but today, fuck you.” “The most religious people i've ever met are atheists.” “They got eyes on the top of their head because they’re weird people.” “Do you actually have to USE the fancy ass mathematics?” “It’s winter. Y’all can’t see shit.” “Your brain bone...what’s it called? SKULL!” “The definition of a cold is not snot!” “The first time you do heroine is the best. I don’t know. I’ve just happened to have met a lot of heroine addicts.” “I was making molten lead in the backyard.” “You know what dead people look like?” “Those of you who are pigmentally challenged.” “For a thousand effing bucks, i’ll wash their ass.” “So you invent liquid butter.” “You know what? We’re gonna kill china.” “The earth has gravity and it reaches out with these octopus tentacles.” “I want to meet Julius Caesar, but then I realized that was stupid.” "i know the moon's not a rabbit." "i never realized you could make a bridge explode." "i built a bridge that was the most bitchin ass coolest bridge i'd ever seen." "you know he's smart because he thought so much his hair all fell out." "nowadays we live in wussville" "[his name], you're going to hell." "maybe you've got a friend who's a drug dealer. they've got good scales." "i'm gonna make a flying buttress of a bridge." "spock wasn't people of color. he was green." "i hate bridges. me no do." "we have extendo-thing-o" "some of you have siblings who shoot up, so if you can get a needle, that helps." "it was the beginning of a life long love affair with this bridge." "if you're gonna trip out, don't do it in a tree." "you're not smarter. you're farter." "let's sit back and play the ukulele in a tree." "we'd go down to the bang bumpity bump." "*singing* i am so blue. i have. no clue. what shall we do? perhaps something new?" "the first picture is a fun. i know those of you who are anti gun are all upset but just deal with it a second." *spends ten minutes drawing a picture* *throws meter stick across classroom* "that's why we don't have glass on that cabinet anymore." "usually they don't offer loaded shotguns to six-year-olds." "you is fitty." "you know he's going fast. you know why? those lines are really long." "it's safer to fire guns in space." "at age six what the hell do you know about physics?" "do you feel physics?" "i have a brain ON my head." "you should not be looking up. you die." "there's a lot of possibilities. one is incorrect and the others are interesting." "all the kids were called mr. [his name]." "you eat, you piss." *talking about childbirth* "this is just like tug of war." "we went to this terrible store. it's called marshall's." "you still got beat up by some other group of kids. why? BECAUSE YOU'RE A DWEEB!" "Mom, i'm all fucked up. you should have made me play piano more." "let's pretend it's not true. it'll make me seem better. there was this dweeb..." "my fist is really upset with you." "how dare you? this is America. i can do whatever i want." "you know that's the problem? you're a selfish bastard" "life's good. the swedes win." "you can't, but if you happen to be a nerd at caltech, you can." "computers are very good at doing arithmetic." "we have a couple cross country losers here." *squats* "this is the answer to everything." "sue God." "it's all about having a 4.5 gpa and taking ap yoga." "winston churchill- who i love very dearly." "anyone who believes in seat belts is a wuss." "ever wonder why these old cars had gimungous trunks? it wasn't so you could put thirteen bodies in it and drive off." "i'm not trying to sound like an advertisement for swedish brains." "there are people like mr [name] out there. that guy's effing crazy." "the swedes. oh bless them." "i see this car coming straight at me at 70 miles an hour and i'm thinking 'what a nice car...'" "some religions are built on like gods and stuff. Thor..." "i can explain the whole world. i need calculus. i have to invent that first, but i can figure out the whole world." "we couldn't hit ships with beans with these things." "don't major in communications." "she's like a piranha." "why do you go to costco? ya loser." "i have a friend. he's a doctor. he's not stupid." "cool guys can spin the wheel with one hand.... i was told." "you're thinking, 'dude, physics.'" "youre sitting next to someone who's radiating gorgeous and you're like 'i'm radiating ugly.'" "why do you shop at wal-effing-mart?" "the way that God and Newton meant things to be." "that sounds stupid, but guys have never been good at deep thoughts." "you guys. better run fast because i'm gonna beat the bleep out of you." "oil companies are the modern day pirates." "they had discovered cocaine but it hadn't come to San Marino yet." "wow. you're a mr. negativity." “they put a godzilla level of give in there.” “with the exception of harvard, most colleges have an ethical standard.” *measures paper in megabytes* “sometimes my language is a bit salty.” “i apologize for biting your head off.” “there's just an achilles' tendon” “just taking cliff’s notes doesn't mean you know diddly shit about romeo and juliet.” “objects jump off of sharp pointy things.” “you could free range roam as far as you could range.”