#maybe i’m found family biased but: siblings!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

botanicallyinclinednerd · 4 years

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In my quest to examine the canon s4 dynamic between Leon and Gwaine (they interact so very little) I found that the scene in which they interact the most is from Lamia. Specifically the scene where they try to kill each other. Now, if you operate under the assumption that Lamia's influence causes the Knights to say and do things they never even would have thought under their own will (as much of the fandom and fanfic writers seem to do), then this scene isn’t significant to their dynamic. But, (and please bear with me, just hear me out) what if their actions, their words, do come from deep within them? Deeply buried resentment, long ignored beliefs and grudges being brought back to light, brought back to the surface and amplified by 100. It certainly would explain a lot. The behavior had to come from somewhere, it makes sense that the lamia would dredge up long past intrusive thoughts, ingrained prejudices and biases, grudges, buried instincts, and resentment in her victims and make it volatile enough for them to act on that influx of negative feelings while feeling only adoration towards her in order to keep herself safe and her (for lack of a better term) prey vulnerable to her attack. It’s not how they think now, but it was at some point or another.

I think that this is a logical explanation for the knight’s behavior in the episode. The whole reason I was watching through scenes with Gwaine and Leon in season 4 in the first place was because I wanted to see if there was any canon evidence for my headcanon that Gwaine was hostile towards Leon in the beginning due to Leon’s noble status and Gwaine’s hatred for nobility which caused their relationship to be rocky in the beginning. Lamia was the only episode I clearly saw evidence of this, but if my theory about the why of the knight’s actions is correct, then its all the evidence I need. If Gwaine originally hated Leon because of his nobility, then that would be brought to the surface. And indeed it looks like it was as it was Gwaine that antagonized Leon and initiated the fight between them. From Gwaine (the episode) we know that one of the things Gwaine hates about nobles is their belittlement and mistreatment of servants. Well, shortly before the scene where Leon and Gwaine fight, Leon yells at Merlin and dismisses him by yelling at him “you’re nothing but a servant!” and if you watch Gwaine in the back ground, his face is twitching and he looks pissed at Leon. So not only is Gwaine’s hatred for nobles brought into play, but specifically his dislike for Leon because of his nobility (which he just displayed towards Gwaine’s best friend). This is further backed up by Gwaine saying to Leon right before the fight “Why don’t you watch your damn tounge” which doesn’t really connect as a response to “Why don’t you watch where you’re going” but it does connect to Leon berating Merlin earlier. And then of course they try to kill each other, which is why I think they didn’t always got along, because while Gwaine had reason to be pissed at Leon, Leon didn’t have reason to be as pissed at Gwaine as he was unless there was past conflict and disrespect between them.

Now the part of this I was dreading: explaining the knight’s behavior towards Merlin (and Gwen, but mostly Merlin). I’ll start with Percival. From his actions in the episode, I don’t believe Percival’s aggression towards Merlin has anything to do with the fact it’s specifically Merlin. We know Percival lost his family and while we don’t know if this entailed parents and siblings or wife and children, it would be reasonable to conclude that he was protective of his family. That is what Lamia is manipulating, making Percival feel protective of her the way he would a family member and causing him to treat anyone who causes her fear or discomfort like a foe. If she had acted afraid of one of the other knights, I believe Percival would have treated them the way he treated Merlin in the episode.

I don’t have a whole lot to say on Elyan because he was unconscious for most of the lamia business, but he was dismissive of Gwen so maybe Lamia used a past sibling grudge or sexism to cause him to be short with her and dismiss her opinions. It might be a reach though.

Now Gwaine: I stand by what I said earlier that he fought Leon in part because of his treatment of Merlin. But we must remember that Gwaine was raised as a noble, so that view may have been a result of him realizing that what he was taught as a child about class treatment was not fair or right. But that still stands that it was a view he once had, allowing the Lamia to make him act on it. I fully believe that the end result we see is why Gwaine hated nobles so much, and why he hid his nobility and would not act on it. Because he didn't actually seem overly aggressive or violent towards Merlin until Merlin told him not to do something and grabbed Gwaine's arm. A sign of friendship, of familiarity. This could come from the servant thing, it could also come from a place of "fuck authority" since Gwaine doesnt like that Merlin told him what to do. I just know my heart breaks at Merlin's flinch and expression.

Finally Leon. He was by far the most aggressive towards Merlin, both verbally and physically. I believe that the lamia was dredging up Leon’s past prejudices and biases, as well as potentially previous thoughts and beliefs. I want to stress that these are past feelings brought forth and amplified by the Lamia. I’ll start with the very painful “you’re nothing more than a servant!” Well. Leon is a noble, a knight, and he was raised in Camelot which is very classist. This could very well have been Leon’s upbringing talking, or just as likely, this could have been part of Leon’s opinion of Merlin back when he first became Arthur’s servant and was very snarky and bold (like he is in this scene that sparks this remark): that he should not be so bold to talk to those above him like that because of his status as a servant. Much of his behavior towards Merlin and Gwen can be attributed to this, as Leon got mad that he was being contradicted and questioned by servants which was not the status quo in Uther’s Camelot. I’m not going to go in depth on it because I hate it, but Leon attacking Merlin is coming from the same place of Servants should stay in their place and if they don’t they deserve to be punished. I think his anger and short fuse also speak to how his patience and level head is a result of effort and is not his default.

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lonelyfanboy48 · 2 years

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Steven Universe At The Creek Chapter 2 A Gem And The Williams Family

Steven and Bernard parked their cars in the driveway of William's house. Upon exiting both vehicles, Steven found the building itself ordinary to be placed in a neighborhood like any other. “My friends and girlfriend have texted me they’re gonna come over in about three hours.” Bernard said, shutting the car door.

“I want to point out that...I don’t have friends similar to yours.” Steven walked up to Bernard. “As in...humans of my current age.”

“What, you're more of an indoor person?”

“I’m an outdoor person actually.”

“Have you gained some social skills at least?”

“Yes I have.”

Bernard can only assume that Steven is the type of person who feels and stays neutral in most situations. Unfortunately for him, he just met him, not even an hour ago. “What will my parents think of this?” He said to himself, despite Steven hearing him. He walked up to the front door while inserting his key to the door lock. “I’m home!”

Soon enough his parents, Duane and Nicole head out of the living room after watching television. “Is the milk still fresh?” Duane wondered.

“Yes it is.” Just when Bernard took off his shoes, his parents witnessed a visitor stepping foot in their house. They’re fully aware of the many friends Barnard had since they met them from time to time, but not a new friend, especially out of town.

“Who’s your new friend?” Nicole pointing at Steven.

“He’s Steven Universe, but he’s not my friend.” Barnard replied. “I met him at the gas station.”

Steven took a deep breath, with the many times he met several families during his trip, he’s prepared for what the Williams are any different. “I’m gonna be in the neighborhood for a few days. I’m mostly a tourist.”

“Oh so you want to know Herkleton huh?” Duane admires Steven’s thinking.

“Out of all the families you decided to come to, you just picked the best one.” Nicole smiled. “We know this neighborhood inside and out.”

“You don’t say.” Steven said while taking out the dolphin film from his bag. “I picked a film for Bernard’s friends to watch tonight.”

“I’m mostly biased at first, but I’m giving this a shot.” Bernard walked past his parents. “Just to point out, have my brother and sister know he’s…” He then whispered into their ears. “...neutral with relationships.”

This made Steven slightly annoyed with the many times his encounters almost became awkward. “I have friends but the thing is, my life is way more personal, can you please understand that? That’s all I’m asking.” As he calmed himself down, he soon went back to being in a positive mood.

“Steven, families are always personal.” Bernard signed. “Can you at least tell us one thing about your family that’s different from any?”

“Bernard, get in the kitchen.” Nicole ordered. “If he doesn’t want to express his family’s life, don’t question it.”

“Just put the milk in the fridge.” Duane added.

Bernard backed away from his parents as he put the milk in the fridge. Soon enough, Steven heads into the living room. The pictures of the Williams family is what his curiosity needs. “You have a younger sister too?” He wondered.

“Yes, she’s upstairs in her room.” Bernard answered. “Her name is Jessica.”

“Is it okay if she can come down to meet me?”

“Sure, but once my friends arrive, she’s gonna be heading back upstairs, same goes to my brother.”

When Steven looked at the family picture again, his attention was on Bernard’s brother. Unfortunately unlike his sister, it didn’t phase him in the slightest. “Who’s your brother?”

“He’s Craig. Believe me when I say this he’s mostly a good sibling from time to time.”

For the many schools he went to during his trip, he agreed with Barnard. “Maybe it’s just me but I don’t think he’s anything too special.”

“If you really believed that every child is special, everyone would be a superhero. And our lives would still be normal.”

Steven would tell that Bernard was bluffing, but if he ever knew who he really was, he would never bluff again. Upon placing the picture back where it belongs, they heard Jessica coming down the steps. After Nicole reminded her about the visitor coming over, her curiosity got the better of her. Once she entered the kitchen, she saw Steven who immediately took notice. Her attention was glued from the way he’s dressed.

“Is that a star on his shirt?” She pointed.

“Yes, do you like it?” Steven asked to which Jessica nodded.

“Stars are always good luck for good people.”

Her brother would disagree, but he refuses to break her spirit. “Jesscia, I know you’ve just met him but he’s gonna watch a movie with my friends soon.”

“Is it okay if I can still play with him for the time being?”

When Bernard looked at Steven, he had no problem at all, in fact it would give something to do in the meantime. “I’ll call you when one of my friends is here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back when you call.” Steven smiled as he followed Jesscia. It didn’t take long for them to head inside Jesscia’s bedroom. Once Steven checked Jessica’s bedroom, he saw a blanket hanging all of Jessica’s stuffed animals at the corner by her window.

“Does your sister always have a room like mine?” She smiled.

“Unn…I don’t have a sister.” Steven replied. “Not to mention I never had a lot of stuffed animals.”

“Did you know how it feels to have a sister? Or a brother or two?”

Steven wanted to be as nice as possible, but a question from a seven year old girl was too concerning to him. “I would, but have you ever had fights that made you stressed during your free time?”

“Not really, I’m mostly adorable enough to avoid fights.”

Upon looking at Jessica’s bedroom again, it was more decorated compared to his old bedroom. Drawing pictures of the family made him remember the times he drew pictures centering around his family. Although if he ever kept his old drawings, he would still keep them away from anyone.

Soon Duane came out of his bedroom and saw Steven looking at her daughter’s room. “Anything you need?” He stepped foot in the bedroom.

“Nothing just…” Steven turned to Duane. “...Found your daughter’s bedroom a bit different, but in a good way.”

“You found my bedroom different? Like a magical way?” Jessica’s eyes sparkled which took Steven notice.

“Yeah, mostly that I never saw a lot of girl bedrooms.”

“Hey, it's a first for anybody.” Duane walking up to Steven. “When I saw my wife’s bedroom when we were young, it was the first girl’s bedroom I ever went into.”

“And I saw his bedroom when I came over to his house.” Nicole popped her head in the room. “You should at least be aware of what a girl’s bedroom should be like.”

Steven agreed with Nicole, knowing that she saw Connie’s room a few times. “Then again, if this was like the sixth time I went to a different bedroom, I wouldn't have expected much.”

With Jessica’s parents heading downstairs, Jessica sat on her bed while still keeping the visitor occupied. “So how long are you staying in the neighborhood?”

“For a few days until I’m leaving.” Steven smiled.

“Maybe when there’s a chance, we’re going to our grandparents in the next two days.”

“No offense but-”

“No really, they’re wonderful people, you would appreciate them since it’s a family reunion.” Steven still had second thoughts knowing he still has a lot to witness in the states he has left to visit. But then Jessica gives him her sweet sparkly eyes again. “Please…my family would appreciate you there.”

“Okay, I’ll come.” Steven smiled. “But you do know we’ve just met minutes ago right?”

“A lot of people can feel that, when someone like you makes a great first impression.”

“All I did was come here, I haven’t done anything yet.”

“First impressions are still a thing.”

This causes Steven to grin awkwardly. “Okay, you say a lot of smart words for your age.”

#steven universe #craig of the creek #Cartoon Crossover #CrossOver #fanfiction

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bevioletskies · 3 years

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the first time (ever i saw your face)

summary: On their six-month anniversary, Apollo and Klavier decide to pose a seemingly harmless question: what did they think of each other when they first met? As it turns out, the topic is a little more complicated than they originally thought.

word count: 4.9k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day one of seven (prompt: "firsts"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings. Mild spoiler warning for the end of Apollo Justice; warning for brief mentions of alcohol. Fic title is from the song The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack.

“...why does this look like something out of a direct-to-streaming movie adaptation of a YA novel that has a three-star average rating on Goodreads?”

“If you’re trying to say you don’t like it, baby, you could just say so.”

“No, no, I - I’m actually kinda into it. It’s like we’ve walked onto the set of a staged proposal, though if you ask me to marry you right now, I will start laughing.”

Klavier sighed. “I’m starting to think the phrase ‘romance is dead’ was invented specifically for you.” Nevertheless, he tugged gently on Apollo’s hand. “Come on, liebe, I got our favorite snacks, I queued our favorite movies...and before you ask, nein, there is no engagement ring, so stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not...totally opposed to getting married, you know,” Apollo added as he followed Klavier. “It’s just...it’s a little early for me. This is only our six-month anniversary, after all.”

“Fair enough,” Klavier hummed, the two of them settling down in their spots. He’d learned long ago that Apollo wasn’t one for flashy, photo op-worthy dates, that he preferred more intimate, low-key settings. And so, for their six-month anniversary, Klavier had taken them to his family estate. He had cleared out the conservatory overlooking the garden of all its furniture, filling it with blankets and pillows, drapes and string lights, and a projector whose screen covered the entire back wall. It reminded Apollo of what he himself had done for their three-month anniversary - because apparently, he was that kind of person now - when he’d planned a weekend’s stay in a cozy lakeside cabin. “A conversation for another time, ja?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Apollo draped one of the blankets over his and Klavier’s laps, then lowered his head to rest on Klavier’s shoulder. Smiling, Klavier turned to briefly kiss Apollo’s temples, then reached for his laptop so he could start the movie. They spent the first fifteen or so minutes in companionable silence, sharing a bag of popcorn and a bottle of wine while they watched, until Apollo eventually spoke again. “...weird, isn’t it?”

“The movie? Not particularly,” Klavier shrugged. “If anything, I’d say the plot twist is a bit predictable.”

“No, not the movie. I mean...this.” Apollo gestured aimlessly. “You and me. Us.”

Klavier’s expression darkened somewhat. “Are you...having doubts about our relationship, Apollo?”

“Wh - no, no, not at all!” Apollo protested, sitting up. “It’s just...I guess it’s mostly weird for me. Like, if someone told me, say, a couple years ago, that I was gonna be in a relationship with you, of all people...hell, can you imagine if someone told me that on the day we met? I-I wouldn’t believe it!”

“You weren’t shy about your distaste for me, true,” Klavier agreed, his slight frown relaxing into an amused smile.

“I don’t think that’s an...entirely accurate assessment of, uh, of how I felt,” Apollo said carefully.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to straighten up, looking at him curiously. “Really?” he asked. “Then what did you think of me when we first met?”

“You first,” Apollo retorted, seemingly on instinct. He then softened. “I mean, only if you want to. I’m kinda curious.”

“I don’t mind,” Klavier reassured him, setting down his wine glass so he could squeeze Apollo’s hand. He hesitated, thinking it over. “...I expected to hate you from the very beginning, to be perfectly honest. And, for a moment there...I did.”

Apollo’s eyes widened. “Wh...what?”

“‘Disgraced Defense Attorney Dismantled By His Disciple’, I believe the headline was,” Klavier continued. He then smiled wryly. “A bit dramatic, if you ask me. But then again, I’m not a big fan of alliteration, so I might just be biased.”

“Did you really hate me?” Apollo’s shout had dropped to a mere whisper. “Because...because you didn’t wanna believe it, did you? About…what had happened. What he’d done.”

“It wasn’t all bad memories, all the time, you know.” Klavier gently released Apollo’s hand so he could brush his hair out of his eyes, though he kept his head ducked low. “We had our moments, him and I. We weren’t close, but...we weren’t estranged, either. In fact, I...I first heard your name from him, not from the papers.”

“He told you about me.” It wasn’t a question. “I guess I should’ve suspected, but I never really knew what your relationship was like...before. I mean, he never once mentioned having a brother, so I kinda assumed…”

“As everyone does,” Klavier shrugged, far too casually for Apollo’s liking. “Anyway, your question was about you and me, not me and him, ja? He told me all the usual things people have to say about you - loud, eager to please, a little bit sensitive. I didn’t think much of it at the time, other than the fact you had a strange name.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, sinking back into the cushions. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Glad to know I made a great first impression.”

“And then when the headlines came along...and Mama and Papa called…” Klavier’s face darkened once more; he cleared his throat. “I looked you up. I hadn’t bothered when I first heard your name, but I had to know. Still, I...I found almost nothing. No photos, no social accounts...nichts. Just a single line on a college graduate roster and the same articles I’d been reading before.”

“...I see.” Apollo fiddled with the ends of his blanket, just so he would have something to do with his hands. “So, when we finally met in person…”

_____

The first thing Klavier noticed was Apollo’s eyes - large, round, expressive to a fault. The color of melted chocolate, though in the sunlight, more akin to the color of honey. Those eyes of Apollo’s, curious and maybe a little bit accusatory, narrowed right at him as he arrived at the entrance of People Park. He internally winced at the sight of Apollo’s companion, who was arguing with the police officer standing guard at the scene. Despite the time that had passed since he last saw her, he could never forget Trucy Enigmar-now-Wright.

Are you working for Phoenix Wright now? Klavier wanted to ask as he approached them. Why? Don’t you know what he’s done? Don’t you see what he’s become?

“I must say I'm used to being inspected by the ladies...but this is the first time I've felt this way with a man,” he said instead, leaning forward to smile somewhat condescendingly at them. Klavier was momentarily struck by how similar they were - how their hair was the exact same shade of brown, how the dusting of freckles across their identically shaped noses matched too perfectly, how their furrowed brows and perplexed frowns were one and the same. The only difference was their eyes, hers more the color of a stormy sea. Perhaps there’s a song lyric there? Klavier mused to himself. Ach, now is not the time.

“Mr...Gavin?” Apollo said disbelievingly, his eyes now widening. His arms, previously crossed tightly against his chest, fell to his sides. The motion caught Klavier’s eye, drawing his attention to the glint of the golden bracelet sitting on Apollo’s left wrist. He wondered if there was some sort of significance to it, what with the way Apollo clutched it tightly with his right hand.

“Ah, fräulein,” Klavier continued, his eyes flickering back upwards. He wondered if she knew him, if she recognized him at all. Clearly, Apollo had no idea who he was; he wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet. “What is a sweet morsel like you doing in such a dismal place? Can I help?”

“Yes! The police man officer fellow here won't let us in!” Trucy complained, huffing. She brandished an envelope in Klavier’s face, nearly swatting him on the nose as she did. He flinched slightly, surprised by how brazen she was. “We even have a letter of request!”

Klavier’s smile softened into one that was a little more genuine. He couldn’t help but be instantly charmed by her. “You must be exhausted, standing out here. I will take you to the scene of the crime.”

“Ooh! Really?” Trucy exclaimed, brightening. Apollo looked skeptical in comparison, his intense gaze traversing the length of Klavier’s body. Usually, he would have preened at the attention, been flattered by the obvious interest and maybe made a show of looking back, but he knew that wasn’t what Apollo was looking for. I am not him, Klavier thought fiercely. I am not the one you trusted, the one who taught you everything you know. I could never -

“By your leave, officer,” Klavier said with a nod and a wink. He barely heard the officer’s affirmation over his own thoughts. Then, he turned back to Trucy and tilted his head towards the park. “Very well. This way, fräulein.”

Trucy’s giggle was sweet, melodic, as she happily followed him through the entrance. He made a show of lifting the police tape for her to duck under, which she seemed easily amused by. Apollo, meanwhile, was left standing on the street, staring at them incredulously, before he finally seemed to register what was happening. “Hey! What about me?!” he cried. His voice gets raspier the louder he gets, Klavier couldn’t help but observe. Interesting.

Once Apollo had caught up, Klavier turned to grin at them both, teeth clenched beneath his lips. Trucy was rocking back and forth on her heels, beaming back, while Apollo had braced his hands on his hips indignantly, like he had something he wanted to say and was just waiting for the opportune moment to say it. Ach, those eyes, those hands, those freckles, Klavier thought rather stupidly. Wait - you’re not supposed to think he’s cute, Klavier, hör auf!

“On that note, enjoy your investigation,” he remarked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the flash of a white lab coat further into the park that told him he needed to leave if he didn’t want to be reprimanded - or worse, Snackoo-ed.

“Thank you! Will we see you again?” Trucy asked, hopeful.

Klavier hesitated. Apollo still hadn’t said a thing about the obvious elephant in the room, still staring at Klavier like he was a ghost. He wanted Apollo to say something, anything, to ask questions, to start the conversation that he himself admittedly didn’t want to take responsibility for. But Apollo was clearly stunned into silence, and any courage Klavier had had when he first walked up to them moments ago was long gone.

“Ask the wind, fräulein. I'll be riding on it,” he said, shooting them one last saccharine smile. He could hear the click-click of Ema’s shoes against the cobblestone as she approached. With that, he turned and left, his chest aching in confusion.

_____

The silence was heavy, heavier than Apollo expected. Klavier had turned the movie volume down long ago, leaving them with nothing but the sound of their own quiet breaths. “Makes sense,” Apollo finally said, shooting Klavier a sympathetic smile. “To you, I...I jumped ship from one corrupt defense attorney to another. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the time, right?”

“Part of me wanted to confront you right then and there, but I didn’t want to do it. Not in front of everyone, especially not in front of her. But the other part of me...I just wanted to learn more about you. To get to know you before I decided whether it was a battle worth fighting. Whether he was worth defending.” Klavier then smiled back; now it was his turn to drop his head onto Apollo’s shoulder. “Besides, you were cute, and I’m weak.”

“‘Were’, huh?” Apollo teased, nudging him. “Well, I’m glad Trucy’s presence, your curiosity, and my cuteness apparently deterred you enough to walk away. To think, what would you have done if you didn’t think I was cute - ”

“Achtung, you’re such an arschgeige sometimes,” Klavier groaned, laughing. “Anyway...I got my answer in court soon enough. I could trust you, and he...he wasn’t worth defending. Not one bit.”

“No, not at all,” Apollo agreed. “Still, I’m...I’m sorry, Klav. Not for what I did, I mean, I-I had to, but just...how it all played out. How messy things got. Whenever we, y’know, come here to see your parents, I still see that look in their eyes. It’s that face that you make when you think no one’s looking.” He swallowed. “Mr. Wright says Trucy does that, too. Less now that she’s got me and Mom, but…well.”

“It wasn’t you, Apollo, it was me. It all started with me believing he wouldn’t lie to me.” Klavier’s laughter was bitter now. “Anyway, I’m starting to think we’re all a little too observant for our own good. None of us can ever let things go, nein?”

“We’d be horrible lawyers if we could,” Apollo chuckled, rubbing Klavier’s arm reassuringly. “But fine, fine, I’ll stop psychoanalyzing you now. It’s my turn, anyway.”

“I want to hear this,” Klavier said, snuggling closer. “Lay it on me, baby. Tell me how you fell for me in two seconds flat.”

“I’m gonna lay into you in two seconds flat if you don’t let me talk,” Apollo said dryly, elbowing him again. “I, uh, I don’t think I remember it as clearly as you do, but…”

_____

“Excuse me, coming through.”

It was a voice, a smooth, musical voice, polite but firm, that caught Apollo’s attention first. He turned in its direction, confused by how familiar it felt, how similar it sounded to another voice he knew, but with a light, lilting cadence and a strangely affected accent whose origins he couldn’t quite place.

“Ah! It’s you! Mr. Gavin!”

Apollo’s eyes widened, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, then narrowed at the sight before him. Striding towards them with a swagger in his step was a man who, as far as Apollo could tell, was supposed to be behind bars. Only, his skin was a few shades darker, his hair a shade or two lighter, and he was wearing, for reasons Apollo couldn’t fathom, eyeliner and leather and chains instead of a neatly-pressed suit and wire-rimmed glasses. Who’s THIS guy? Apollo thought, his stomach turning.

“I must say I'm used to being inspected by the ladies...but this is the first time I've felt this way with a man,” the man said, leaning in close; his smile was a little wider than Apollo would have liked. Apollo also didn’t want to think about how pretty he was, how long his eyelashes were or how smooth his skin seemed to be. This can’t be him, Apollo decided, though he was still frozen in place. He could only vaguely feel Trucy’s fingers tugging gently on his shirt sleeve. No, it can’t be - it’s not - but who -

“Mr...Gavin?” Apollo said stupidly. He felt a phantom pinch on his left wrist; he released his arms from where they were crossed so he could rub the spot where it hurt, though the moment he touched it, he realized he hadn’t been in pain at all. The man’s eyes flickered down, following his fingers in curiosity, before moving back up to continue smiling beatifically at Trucy.

“Ah, fräulein,” he said; he was practically simpering now. “What is a sweet morsel like you doing in such a dismal place? Can I help?” Apollo barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course, he internally sighed, he’s one of those guys.

“Yes! The police man officer fellow here won't let us in!” Trucy whined, shoving the envelope in the man’s face. Apollo had to bite back a laugh at his startled expression, a contrast to his otherwise indifferent smile. “We even have a letter of request!”

“You must be exhausted, standing out here,” the man murmured sympathetically, eyes sparkling. He seemed intrigued, though Apollo couldn't blame him. He supposed he and Trucy looked like a completely mismatched pair. “I will take you to the scene of the crime.”

“Ooh! Really?” Trucy exclaimed, her entire face lighting up. Apollo tried not to smile himself; her energy was infectious. Then, the man’s words finally clicked in his mind. Wait - really?! But why would he - how can he - who is he?

“By your leave, officer,” the man ordered, winking. A pleasant shiver went down Apollo’s spine, one that he was trying his best to ignore. No good was going to come out of that train of thought, not when this man was clearly someone he needed to worry about - though in what way, he wasn’t sure yet. He seemed too generous, too open. Whether he was a police officer, a detective, or, god forbid, a prosecutor, Apollo didn’t trust him not to lead them astray, not one bit. “Very well. This way, fräulein.”

Before Apollo knew it, the man was walking away with Trucy in tow, leaving him behind. “Hey! What about me?!” he shouted, jogging after them. By the time he caught up, both of them were grinning at him amusedly, as if watching him trip over his own feet was some hysterical inside joke. Huffing, he braced his hands on his hips, ready to open his mouth and protest. The man’s gaze briefly travelled down to his hands once more. What’s that all about? Apollo wondered, confused. What’s he looking at? Is it my bracelet? It’s not that weird, is it? Wait, or can he tell that it’s -

“On that note, enjoy your investigation,” the man said, speaking a little quicker than he did before. He suddenly seemed distracted, like he couldn’t wait to get away from them.

“Thank you!” Trucy chirped, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Will we see you again?”

“Ask the wind, fräulein,” the man said, recovering. He seemed almost too focused on Trucy, like something about Apollo bothered him. Maybe he already knew who Apollo was, what Apollo had done. Was he angry? Resentful? Waiting for the right moment to strike? A shiver of a different kind tingled throughout Apollo’s body at the very thought; the phrase “kill them with kindness” was coming to mind. “I'll be riding on it.” He then left without another word, leaving Apollo to stare stupidly after him, his heartbeat in his throat.

“...who was that?” Apollo exclaimed, stunned, as if he wasn’t confused enough by everything else that was going on. His mind was racing with possibility, with anxiety that he really, really didn’t need. Before he could get into it, however, his jumbled thoughts were quickly cut off by Trucy’s surprised cry.

“Eek! Apollo, look - a c-corpse!”

_____

“...interesting,” Klavier said after a moment’s silence. “Did she really think the mannequin was a dead body?”

“Seriously, Klav?” Apollo groaned. “Surprised you didn’t fixate on the part where I thought you were pretty.”

“‘Were’?” Klavier echoed mockingly, grinning. His expression then sobered. “So...mixed feelings all around, it seems. I suppose it shouldn’t be all that shocking, though. We weren’t...total strangers, after all.”

“You practically were to me,” Apollo murmured, tangling his fingers in Klavier’s hair. Klavier leaned into his touch, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment. “At least you knew I existed, while I...he never…” He then shook his head. “Y’know, I-I’m not sure if I really wanna think about this anymore. Not if it makes us think about him.”

“It’s not one of our happiest memories, nein,” Klavier agreed, humming. “I like where we are now...where we can trust each other. There’s little I hate more than ambiguity. And not knowing how I was supposed to feel about you…”

“Sucks, right?” Apollo let out a hollow laugh. “But at least we were on the same page, in a, uh, weird way. I guess that’s always been our thing. Even when you’re driving me up the wall in court - which is all the time, so don’t even question me, I see that look on your face - we’re, y’know, generally working towards the same goal.”

Klavier’s fingers danced along the length of Apollo’s forearm, tapping out a rhythm that Apollo couldn’t quite pick out. “I’d like to think so. I was never really sure until...ach, well. You remember.”

_____

Apollo was still trembling as he exited the courtroom with Trucy by his side. She was putting on a brave face for them both, but he had a feeling that she was more torn up about what had happened than he was. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her somehow after they’d learned the truth behind her biological father’s death, but for once, he was completely speechless.

“Polly?” Trucy’s voice was tentative. “I’m...kinda hungry.”

“I...oh.” Apollo looked at her curiously. Out of all the things he’d expected her to say, that hadn’t been one of them. “Do you wanna get something to eat? We could go to Eldoon’s if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” Trucy reassured him. Her face then lit up. “I was actually thinking about the courthouse café! We can get cake and drinks and stuff. A little sugar goes a long way!”

Apollo smiled softly. “Sure, Trucy. Whatever you’d like.”

And so, they found themselves a small table at the courthouse café - and maybe calling it that was rather generous on Trucy’s part - with two thick slices of Swiss rolls and tall glasses of milk tea. Admittedly, Apollo still felt numb, but Trucy’s running commentary of her thoughts on the trial kept him going. “Now all we need is for Vera to wake up,” Trucy said, gripping her fork with determination. “I’m still so worried about her! What if she doesn’t - ”

“We can’t think like that, okay?” Apollo said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “We gotta have hope. That’s all we can do, you know?”

“I guess,” Trucy murmured, chewing her bottom lip fretfully. She went quiet for a minute or so, poking at the last bits of her drink’s half-melted ice with her straw. “Hey, um...Daddy says he’s meeting up with a friend later today, and he wants to have dinner. And when he says ‘friend’, he usually means Mr. Edgeworth. You know, the prosecutor?”

“Yeah, I’ve definitely heard of him.” Apollo sat up a little straighter at the word ‘prosecutor’. In his stupor over the whole ordeal, he’d barely spared a thought for Klavier; he could only vaguely guess how he was doing. “What about him?”

“I was just wondering if, maybe, you’d wanna...join us?” Trucy suggested. He’d never seen her so hesitant before. “For dinner, I mean.”

“...oh.” Apollo paused. “No, uh - not today, sorry. I should really go home and sleep all of this - ” he gestured aimlessly “ - off. I feel like I need to sleep for, like, three days straight.”

“Sure, of course,” Trucy nodded, smiling faintly. “But….you’re still coming back to the agency, right? Maybe not tomorrow, but like...in a few days?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” Apollo promised, surprised by how quickly he’d responded. In all his hesitation, his doubts about law and what it was meant to be, what it could be, he was finally starting to feel like the Wright Anything Agency was where he belonged.

After they finished eating, he and Trucy parted ways after a long, much-needed hug on the courthouse steps. Apollo then went to fetch his bike from the rack adjacent to the courthouse parking lot, only to spot a familiar face lingering nearby, seemingly in no rush to leave.

“...Gavin?” Apollo said carefully.

Klavier turned sharply at the sound of Apollo’s voice. His smile was a touch too wide, his eyes suspiciously glossy. “Ah, Herr Forehead,” he greeted, ducking his head; his voice sounded trapped in his own throat. “Good show in there, as always. You never fail to impress.”

“Thanks. Hey, um - I’m surprised to see you’re still here,” Apollo commented, taking a few tentative steps closer. “Don’t you have somewhere...better to be?”

“Not really, nein.” Klavier let out a short, forced laugh. “I have paperwork to do, I’m sure. But it can wait.”

“...right.” Apollo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks, by the way.”

Klavier blinked. “Entschuldigung? What for?”

“For agreeing to summon your brother, and...y’know, everything after that.” Apollo found himself oddly fascinated with a few stray pebbles on the ground, nudging them around with the toes of his loafers so he wouldn’t have to look at Klavier’s face. “Look, I-I’m not gonna pretend like I know what you, or Trucy, or Mr. Wright are going through. I’m mostly on the outside looking in, so. All I really know, if I know anything at all, is that, uh...we did the right thing. Yeah?”

“Ja.” When Apollo looked up, Klavier was also deliberately looking elsewhere, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. He’d displayed a whirlwind of emotions back in the courtroom, but none of them were quite the same as the bitter expression he was wearing right now. “...Apollo?”

Now it was Apollo’s turn to do double-take. “Huh? Wh-what is it?”

“Danke schön. For...everything. I honestly don’t think I could’ve done...any of that on my own,” Klavier confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “And I think I...I think I’m going to take a little time away from the prosecutor’s office. Not for long, mind you. Just...I need some time off. A week, maybe two. Some distance, some perspective...it would make a world of difference, achtung.” He then turned to face Apollo directly for the first time since they started talking. He looked tired, defeated, even. His posture, his expression - Apollo felt as if he was seeing an entirely different person standing before him.

Without thinking, Apollo took the last few steps forward and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Klavier and pulling him close. Klavier let out a startled noise; then, he hugged Apollo back, sinking his weight against Apollo’s, his forehead dropping to Apollo’s shoulder. His exhale was long, unsteady. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Apollo said, fingers digging into Klavier’s back, his face buried against Klavier’s bicep. “And if you ever wanna talk about it...I-I mean, I’m sure I’m not your first choice, but still. I’m, uh, I’m around.”

“Danke,” Klavier murmured, barely above a whisper. They stayed like that for a moment, maybe a moment too long, just holding each other in the middle of the courthouse parking lot for anyone and everyone to see. Klavier’s breath trembled against Apollo’s ear; Apollo half-expected his knees to give out from underneath him. Then, he slowly detached himself from Apollo’s grasp, carefully schooling his expression into something more Klavier-like, something brighter and blander, his teeth blindingly white in the mid-afternoon sun. “Anyway, I should really get going. That paperwork isn’t going to take care of itself, ja?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, don’t I know it,” Apollo said, letting out another strained chuckle.

“Until next time, then,” Klavier said smoothly, winking. “Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” He didn’t wait for Apollo’s send-off, instead turning and heading over to his motorcycle, humming and twirling his keychain expertly between his practiced fingers. Apollo watched him peel out of the parking lot, silently wondering if he’d said all he wanted - no, needed - to say.

_____

“Of course I remember.” Apollo held Klavier just a little bit tighter. “But, y’know, again - not our best moment. Not by a long shot.”

Klavier lifted his head from Apollo’s shoulder so he could kiss him briefly, gently. Apollo smiled against Klavier’s lips, cupping his jaw so he could bring him closer. “But I’d still say our first kiss is more of a memory worth reminiscing over. Wouldn’t you agree, liebe?”

“It was a little dramatic for my taste,” Apollo teased, pulling back so he could affectionately nudge his nose against Klavier’s cheek, his fingers lightly pressed into Klavier’s sides. “But you’re into that sort of thing, so I’ll give it a pass. Still, let’s just agree not to cry all over each other ever again, okay? It was honestly kinda gross. And wet. And not in a fun way.”

“You’re saying you won’t cry when I propose?” Klavier asked, pouting exaggeratedly. “Because ach, I know I will.”

“Who says you’re proposing?” Apollo retorted, grinning as he prodded Klavier in the chest. “What if I get there first? What if, while you’re getting down on one knee, I just whip a ring box out of my pocket - ”

“Then I really will lose my scheisse,” Klavier murmured, his lips ghosting across Apollo’s skin. “I’m going to hold you to it, baby.”

“Can’t guarantee it’ll happen, but I’m definitely gonna try,” Apollo said, turning his head to capture Klavier’s lips once more. The two of them exchanged slow, lazy kisses for a few minutes, fingers loosely tangled in each other’s hair. In the background, the movie continued on, long forgotten; not that it mattered, seeing as they’d watched it together many times before.

Eventually, Klavier carefully detangled himself from Apollo. He passed him his wine glass, still half-full, then reached for his own and lifted it above his head. “To making new memories, ja?”

“Are we really cheers-ing ourselves? That’s pretty self-serving, literally,” Apollo said dubiously, though he still raised his glass all the same, amused by Klavier’s dramatics. “But hell, why not? To new memories that don’t involve us crying, sneezing, yelling - ”

“You make us sound like absolute disasters, achtung,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “We’re not that bad, are we?”

Apollo took a sip of his drink, then leaned in close, so close that his nose brushed against Klavier’s, his wine-stained, kiss-bitten lips stretched into a fond grin. “Nah. I think we’re doing just fine.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my first entry for Klapollo Week 2021! I've never participated in any fandom challenges/events before, so I'm super excited to see how this goes. My plan is a little overambitious, with all seven fics set in the same continuity, but in a different order. For example, this fic is actually the last, chronologically speaking, while day seven's fic is set in the middle. If you're wondering why they were crying during their first kiss, you'll have to wait until then 😉

Don't worry about any of that, though, you don't need to read the others to follow along! Day seven is technically a sequel to day five, but it can be read as a stand-alone, though I think it packs more punch if you read it after day five. They're also the longest; every other fic averages out to about four to five thousand words, whereas five and seven are over ten thousand words each. Brevity is the soul of wit? Not in my Google Docs, I am wordy as hell.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #i've made that dumb goodreads joke before lmao #anyway happy klapollo week y'all!!

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

pirate king (29) || atz

“What?”

Time seems to slow, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears as your heart pounds frantically, utterly confused. What did he mean by he didn’t lie? Seonghwa’s whole family got hanged on false charges, and he had the gall to deny the truth?

Lucio Bartholomew’s smile is sad as he answers Seonghwa.

“Your parents were not hung on false charges, Hwaseong.”

If you were shocked, Seonghwa is utterly destroyed. You can see his pupils dilating in shock, almost swallowing the soft grey of his irises. Stumbling backwards until Wooyoung catches him by the arm, he stares at the official, mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

“You’re lying. They were the kindest people I’d ever known, the only blade my father had held his whole life was a kitchen knife. Don’t lie to me.”

Trembling, Seonghwa shakes his head desperately and buries his face in Wooyoung’s shoulder, as if doing that will change the truth. But Lucio Bartholomew does not lie. You can feel the genuine honesty in every word he says down to your very bones, and maybe that is what scares you the most.

“When I visited your parents in the eatery, I had an ulterior motive, you know?” Lucio says softly, staring at Seonghwa. The cook refuses to look at him, one of Wooyoung’s arms coming up to wrap around Seonghwa protectively as he glares down the official with venomous eyes that you hope are never aimed at you. “I had found out some information about them, so I went to investigate that. Did you know, Seonghwa?”

“Know what?” Seonghwa snaps, still unable to completely believe that Lucio Bartholomew is lying. The official looks at him seriously.

“Your parents were pirates, Seonghwa.”

The words have the impact of a punch, every wisp of air knocked from his lungs as the statement bounces around in his skull. They seem to have taken Seonghwa’s ability to speak as well, because he simply stares at the man in utter disbelief and shock.

“What?” The words slip past your lips. Lucio smiles at you, a little sadly. He holds a book in front of you, pages slightly yellowed with age. It’s a book of records, you realise, as you lean in to make out the writing on the paper.

Park Seonho and Eun Jung, pirates, to be hanged for theft, instances of piracy and betrayal of the Crown. Wanted for the murder of 57 people, the prominent of which was Levi Bastiville, former Commander of the Royal Navy Red Rose Fleet and his wife, which left their only son an orphan.

Seonghwa’s parents were pirates.

Pirates, who the Royal Navy had every right to execute.

Pirates charged with the murder of a married couple.

Pirates who had caused a young boy to grow up completely alone, devoid of any paternal love.

“You met him, didn’t you?” Lucio sighs, almost wistfully as he turns to Seonghwa. There’s something mournful in his eyes as he sets the book down. “He was the one who almost arrested all of you.”

Levi Bastiville’s son.

Leon Bastiville.

A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of the man, goosebumps racing over your skin as you felt the gun at your head once more, the way his fingers dug at your throat, the sheer lunacy in his eyes, the sadistic smile on his face as your captain had been whipped half to death in front of him.

And yet, Seonghwa could understand him now.

“He was left alone, completely without extended family. The orphanage took him in, but the other children bullied him for having come from a rich family.” Lucio tells you quietly, and you can see Wooyoung’s knuckles turn white. “He didn’t have the same sort of support and family you did on board the Treasure and he grew up twisted and sadistic, into the man you saw that day.”

A sob leaves Seonghwa’s throat.

“In fact,” The man continues softly, shaking his head dryly, “he was a boy much like you before the fateful day of the hanging.”

Seonghwa’s parents had destroyed lives, much like Lucio had destroyed Seonghwa’s.

And that itself is like a knife to Seonghwa’s throat.

“I was initially going to ask your parents to sell us information about other privateers as well as to check whether they might still pose a threat to Nassau.” Lucio continues, his words firm and unyielding. “I didn’t even think about hanging them for a life of crime they had so obviously left behind. But Leon found out, you see. He ran and told the town officials, and in the end your whole family was put to death.”

“It wasn’t you?” Seonghwa manages to ask between restrained sobs, Wooyoung patting him on the back gently. Lucio shakes his head honestly.

“I was merely the head of investigation.” He answers in return to Seonghwa’s question, and in that moment Seonghwa shatters into pieces.

“No…”

He’s been living a lie this whole time.

“According to the reports of Sir Lucio Bartholomew, the head of the piracy investigation, I find the Park family guilty of consorting with pirates and ****…”

Seonghwa remembers now.

The memory comes back, as if resurfacing from the bottom of the ocean where it’s lingered the last six years. It returns, clear and unblemished by time, no longer hidden behind his own biases and beliefs.

“...Guilty of consorting with pirates and p*r*cy-”

He had heard it that day.

“...Guilty of p*ra*y…”

He had chosen to forget that one memory.

“...Piracy.”

He had lied to himself.

“So, Park Seonghwa, are you still going to kill me?”

The gun falls from Seonghwa’s fingers and clatters to the ground. Seonghwa lets out a wail so painful it sends chills down your spine, as if there is someone physically torturing him from within.

“Seonghwa-hyung-” You begin to say, but Lucio begins to speak once more.

“I could give you the name and identity of the man did kill your parents and siblings.” Lucio says softly, his eyes resting on Seonghwa’s shaking form with sympathy. “But your parents did kill his wife, who was pregnant with their unborn child.”

Horror wells up in your chest and Seonghwa lets out a muffled scream into Wooyoung’s sleeve.

“I only imagine that he wanted them to feel the same pain he did.” Lucio continues, as if unaware of the agony ripping Seonghwa apart. “I’m not saying that he was right in what he did, but anyone would have understood why. He’s lived with the guilt for the last six years of his life as well. He still hears their voices in his head and hasn’t had a night of sleep since that day.”

You don’t know what is happening anymore. You can only watch as Seonghwa crumbles before you, Wooyoung holding onto him desperately like his only lifeline to reality. But you can see the fog in Seonghwa’s mind clearing slowly as he learns to accept the truth.

“I hate you.” Seonghwa manages to choke out finally, but there’s mixed feelings in his own voice. “I hate you for telling me the truth. But thank you.”

Lucio smiles gently, and to your surprise, Seonghwa doesn’t shy away from it this time. “I’m glad you escaped his wrath. What I can do to make amends is tell you where your family are buried.”

Seonghwa’s eyes go wide. Prisoners who have been hanged are usually just tossed into pits in the ground, not given the luxury of a proper burial.

“Thank you.” Is all Seonghwa manages to say, furiously wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Hate, Seonghwa, is the path of the devil. It is tempting, and it will attempt to entice you with all sorts of logical explanations and compelling reasons, ones that boost your ego and raises false heroes.” The official’s eyes are a little wistful as he and Seonghwa meet each other’s gaze evenly for the first time that night. “I wish I had known that before. That there is no prize worth the corruption of your soul. There is no relief in revenge, only more pain and destruction.”

“I understand.”

And he really does, because as much as he wants to hate the man who killed his family, he can’t bring himself to. His parents’ guilt and responsibility weigh themselves on his shoulders, just as much as the hatred towards the man who had murdered his parents had once been.

“So what are you going to do now, hyung?” Wooyoung asks Seonghwa, helping him wipe the tears from his eyes as he shoots Lucio Bartholomew a look. Even after finding out that Bartholomew isn’t the one directly responsible for the deaths of Seonghwa’s parents, he still looks like he wants to blow the man up anyway for giving his crewmate so much grief.

“I don’t know.” Seonghwa exhales, turning to look at you and Wooyoung. He looks a little lost, a little confused, like a man who’s reached the end of a road and doesn’t know where to go next. “Maybe go to my family’s grave and pay my respects.”

He glances back at the Lucio, who nods. “They’re buried by the sea, at the little fishing spot you and your family used to go to.”

“Thank you.” This time, his words are full of surety. And for the first time since he’s stepped into the room, his shoulders sag in relief, as if a massive weight has been lifted from him.

Wooyoung holds him by the shoulders, steering him out of the room gently.

You linger for a moment more, your eyes searching the room for a glimpse of the book that had started it all. But it’s not there.

“Are you still looking for something?” Lucio asks, and you whip around in surprise to see the official still standing there, a distantly sad look of regret on his face as he stares out of the door. Even though he was the one who’d turned Seonghwa’s life upside down, you can’t help but ask.

“Is there something wrong?”

The man snaps out of his little reverie, shaking his head.

“Oh, no… I just wish I could have had more courage.”

Courage?

“I wish I could have told that boy the truth.” Lucio Bartholomew looks at the doorway, but there’s something like wistfulness in his eyes. You frown at his words. What did he mean by the truth? Didn’t he tell Seonghwa the whole truth already?

“You should go too.” He gestures to the door, but you can’t help staring at him even as you leave.

Then as you shut the door behind you, you hear him speak once more, this time seemingly speaking to the empty room.

“Marie, my love, Janice, my sweet child…” Lucio Bartholomew murmurs softly, lost in a world that you can’t seem to see. “Please watch over that boy from heaven to atone for my sins.”

The door clicks shut.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

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letsunity · 3 years

Text

The Lucky Batch ☘️

Cold Lullabies

With the information that Raffle delivered, Kenlha wanted to hear their side of the story. However, she struggled to muster the gut to do so, knowing the pain they must feel.

Every day, Kenlha misses Morast, wishing that she’d never been their padawan. Maybe the Clawdite would still be alive if Kenlha was dumped with another master, someone like Kit Fisto or Ki-Adi Mundi, the latter being a sociopath. Mundi was better than Mace Windu, the prick.

She has an idea how they feel. Though instead of losing one, they’ve lost many. Not only their batchmates but prior mother-figure, Master Bastet.

Master Fisto, Master Koon and Master Kenobi believed that she was best for this squad, they trusted her to care for them. In order to do that, she needed to know as much as possible.

Not only that, but share as well. They’ll be fully open to each other, no secrets between them. That’ll build trust and maybe make them almost competent.

The twins, however, are crafty bastards.

Foxy would direct the conversation in one of his many attempts to flirt. Thumbs would egg him on while Ballast laughed.

Pepper, being the only medic, could say that he was busy with one of his idiot brothers. Given how often this lot gets injured, she can’t argue that he’s was a busy guy.

It was a waiting game. She’d have to ambush one of them, get them comfortable with her.

This togruta space witch is even craftier than these twins.

While trying to mentor Brisk and Luna, she’d wait.

Eventually, Kenlha’s time came, just not how she wanted it to.

On one of the missions, Pepper was hurt, the fool more focused on protecting Foxy. He got an infection from the wound, even contracting a virus. Foxy was adamant that they not go back to Kamino, leaving them to follow Pepper’s fevered orders.

It inspired her to start practicing medicine, only for her to realise how complicated it was.

With perseverance and a visit from a clone named Kix, Peps was on his way to getting back on his feet.

Since he couldn’t run away, Kenlha would take advantage of the only moment she had.

“Looking better by the day,” Kenlha complimented, sitting next to Pepper’s bed. “You’ll be giving out stickers any day, buddy.”

“Goose will be thrilled,” the medic continued, wondering how high it’s body count was now. “Ryder needs a new Nexu sticker. Then I can make the hot Cheetos dipped in mashed potatoes scratch and sniff for him.”

It was sweet to see the new Ryder bring such a gift to Pepper, he adored it.

“Is it alright if I ask you something?”

“You can always confide with me, Ken. Doctor patient confidentiality ensures your secrets are safe with me.”

He was a soft boi, a good brother to her and an excellent doctor. When she looked into those mismatched eyes and his soft smile, it was easy to forget what he’d endured. What both twins went through together.

“I’d like to know about before me and before Master Bastet. I’m a Jedi, I can sense your instinctive caution around me, even though you don’t show it. As your General, your sister, I want to be there for you as you are for me.”

Perhaps it was the fever, maybe it was exhaustion, but he gave somewhat of a summary of what transpired with Master Laverna. She could feel the trauma, especially regarding the force-choke.

He had to hold his neck, recalling the events as though he was re-living them again.

Raffle forgot to mention that the Jedi’s death was an accident, but in her opinion, he deserved it. While she’s biased, being their sister, she can’t stand people mistreating the clones.

Being so close with the twins, she’s disgusted by that dead Cathar.

“I... sometimes I don’t think Foxy should’ve gotten involved,” the medic sighed, like a weight was lifted from his chest.

Understandably, Kenlha was surprised, though she wouldn’t voice it. He was sharing with her, she can’t ruin this. She can understand him more, and by doing that, she can be a better sister.

“He had a padawan, a girl, possible 11 or so, named Teles. I cut off her leg, but didn’t cut high enough, and she died, likely septic shock. I held her hand as that light fell away. Nothing he could’ve done to me would compare to feeling her going limp and cold.”

He felt responsible for her. He did everything he could and she still died. It’s a pain that Kenlha empathised with more than she wished she did. Her eyes burned as salty water seeped through her ducts, dribbling down her yellow skin.

“I often feel that I killed my master, Morast Tane. They were strict, but they were better to me than anyone before. They tried to guide my energy onto something productive and constructive, kind of like a parent to me,” Kenlha started, recalling the events herself.

“It was on a hot planet called Nevarro, magma and volcanic ash littering the ground. While fighting an army of droids, some damned flyers shot from above, causing the ground to become unstable.

I didn’t think. I jumped into the air, slicing through those bastards. One that I bisected fell, crashing into that unstable ground and causing Master Morast to fall. I tried to pull them up, but they fell into the lava.

The only word they could muster was Run before the cries started. Being outmatched, outgunned, we had to leave. There wasn’t even anything to bury them,” Kenlha sighed, the sensation of something clawing at her throat adding to the tears. “I know the pain of being responsible, even when others tell you it wasn’t your fault.”

The medic absorbed her tale, allowing her a few moments to recollect herself. The togruta held his hand, supporting herself and him in the emotional moment.

There were days she wished it was her instead of Master Morast.

“Do you remember the Endeavour, that ship that crashed down, killing two-thousand troopers?” Pepper started, his voice trembling. “I... could’ve stopped that from happening.”

She waited, feeling his grip tighten around hers.

“At Geonosis, while Foxy, Mozzarella, Springer and Locke were fighting droids, I and a few others were sent back to look for surviving Jedi. Instead, I found someone with my face, only far younger.

I knew who he was, everybody did. The Maker’s chosen child, the payment for his involvement in making us. The one that he named Boba, raising as his own.

If I’d just taken him in or hell, even shot him, then all of those clones would still be alive. Master Windu and Master Skywalker wouldn’t have been hurt. Instead of that, I let him go, lying to my fellows that I didn’t find anybody.”

“While the Endeavour was a tragedy, I think you did the right thing. They were only a child, weren’t they? Even by Mandalorian standards, he was a kid, right?”

“Master Bastet said something similar. And she’s dead too. I tend to have bad luck regarding Jedi.”

He was afraid to get close to her in case she died. It’s an understandable fear, she was terrified of ever having a master again.

Kenlha was scared to even be a Master, worried that she’d never live up to Morast with her young girls. Brisk and Luna were outliers too, so she had an advantage there, but still.

There are days where she wondered if Morast would’ve been better for them.

“I won’t promise that I’m not gonna die. We all die eventually, many earlier than they should. What I will promise, Peps, is that I’ll be here for every day that it gets hard. During the days it feels like there can’t be a tomorrow, I’ll be right here to listen. All of us, even Goose.”

“Foxy’ll need an ear, too. He’s an idiot, but he’s my idiot.”

“He was adamant that we steer clear from Kamino. Would I be pushing it if I asked why?”

She watched those green and brown eyes ponder, thinking over her question. As with before, he chose to share.

“Foxy and I aren’t just twins. There’re loads of twins, Echo and Fives from the 501st for example. We, however, are literal twins. Our clump of cells split and we grew attached at the shoulder,” he explained, motioning to his tattooed shoulder. “The Kaminoans, having not seen it often, experimented on us to prevent it from happening again. Our earliest memories have made us dislike them, especially the one named Nala Se.”

It made sense and she could agree with it.

“Then to ensure that we don’t go, I think I’ll have to learn some doctor lessons from you. I’ll be your, um, what’s that dumb thing Jackal says?”

“P-to-the-wan?”

“Yep, I’ll be your medic padawan,” she smiled, earning one from him as well. It was a beautiful thing, given his experiences. “Have a sleep, pal. We’ll give you a few minutes of peace.”

“There’s tape in Boots’ room,” he chuckled. She smirked, knowing that it would be for Ballast. “It... was good talking with you, Ken.”

“You too, Doctor Bro.”

Kenlha will talk with Foxy as well. She’ll talk with all of her siblings, assuring them that she’s there for ‘em. Not just her clones but her padawans, too.

She wasn’t going to lie, it felt good talking to Peppy about her feelings as well.

Feelings aren’t accepted in the Jedi Order, so he made her feel valid. It was something she desperately needed from someone, and she was happy it was from Peps.

This is a good family she’s found.

Love you guys!

Tags: @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr @maygalodon @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @foxlock @lusiawonder @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @monako-jinn-stories @namesmox @generaltano @lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice

I am evil, yis 😈😈

PS - it’s 3:23am lol brain is working overtime!

#The Lucky Batch #Clone Force 37 #Chaos/Comfort

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felidaefighter · 3 years

Text

Our Metaphorical Get-Along Sweater

In which Wilbur thinks of Ranboo as an arch-nemesis while Ranboo is just There Vibing and also, Phil has adopted Ranboo, making for two very different siblings and a very interesting relationship

[Fluff, comedy, fix-it fic, some light angst that is immediately softened, work in progress; every chapter will swap POV]

Chapter Two: A Second Chance From The Second Son

For Ranboo, coming home empty-handed was always the worst part about his trips, second only to not seeing Michael for a while. So, before even stopping at home to unload, the moment he got back to familiar lands he headed to Snowchester, spending the entire afternoon with his son and only heading back to his own house as the sun was beginning to set. In truth, he had been grateful for the accidental timing regarding his trip. It allowed him time to think. Although he and Phil had discussed Wilbur before, he hadn’t been alive during that, and Ranboo honestly felt a prick of guilt at how he knew that might’ve changed things-- he highly doubted Phil would’ve adopted him had Wilbur still been alive, after all.

It definitely didn’t help, either, the way Tommy had spoken about Wilbur-- though Ranboo had known Ghostbur, and knew that in some ways they were likely similar, they weren’t the same-- it made him wary of Wilbur; not just for himself, but for Tommy and Tubbo’s sake as well. Still, he believed in second chances, and a second chance at life was something pretty rare. He wanted to be optimistic. And although Phil was going to be biased, because Wilbur was his son-- his son that he had raised from birth, especially-- Ranboo trusted Phil’s judgement on people more than nearly anyone else save for his husband. He wanted to get to know the man. Not the man he used to be, not the man he was, but the man he is now.

After putting away the small amount of trinkets and excess materials Ranboo had picked up on his adventure, he checked his memory book to see if it had anything to offer in terms of what his next step was. Oh, right! He’d wanted to give Wilbur a proper tour of what had changed; Tommy had succeeded in showing him around, after all, but if Ranboo knew Tommy (and he did, very well), there was no way Tommy had actually given a good explanation of the events behind the changes to the man. Now he just had to offer. He just… had to do it. Yeah. Noting that the sun had only just set, it was reasonable to assume that Wilbur and Phil were still awake. Very very awkwardly for someone who had every right to be there given his adoption, Ranboo knocked on the door to Phil’s house.

Phil let him in with an easy smile. “Ranboo, mate, you don’t have to knock y’know.” It kind of felt strange not to though? Considering the recent change in situation. “Yeah, but with Wilbur here, I don’t wanna interrupt anything, y’know?” He asked Phil with an awkward laugh. “You’re just as much part of the family as he is,” Phil assured, and Ranboo felt himself untense a little. “Welcome back from your adventure, by the way! Were you successful?” Phil asked, realizing he hadn’t yet. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Ranboo moaned miserably, and Phil laughed. “Not well then! Got it.” Ranboo shook his head. “Everything else I can find no problem! Like, come on, man, this one isn’t even for me.” The two stood in a pleasant moment together.

Right. The reason he was here. He had to get it over with one way or the other. “Hey Phil, I was wondering actually, is Wilbur around…?” He asked before he could convince himself not to. Phil looked at him quizzically. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Wil!” Phil called, and Wilbur immediately stuck his torso out the ladder hole, looking like he very much would rather be elsewheres. “Ranboo wanted to speak to you,” Phil explained, and Wilbur disappeared for a moment before climbing down the ladder properly. “Okay, I’m here, I see you. What’s up?” Wilbur asked, and although he looked like he’d been interrupted genuine curiosity colored his words. Admittedly, it was a little intimidating to have Wilbur’s attention. Ranboo had just… heard so much about him.

“Oh, well uh… you got a tour of what had changed from Tommy, right?” He started. Wilbur tilted his head. “Yeah, you could call it that.” Ranboo nodded; he’d expected something like that. “Well, I was wondering-- if you’re free tomorrow, would you like a proper tour? I know Tommy is horrible at being straightforward and explaining things like that, so it might be nice to have an actual explanation right?” Ranboo asked. There it was, the big, awkward sibling bonding question. Huoagh. Ranboo turned to Phil. “No offense, Phil, but you and Techno don’t really…” Ranboo trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence. Phil shook his head. “None taken, you’re right. Aw that sounds nice eh Wil? It’d be good to get you all caught up.” Wilbur looked a bit taken aback, but not unpleasantly so. That was good! That seemed like a good thing.

“You know what? Sure, Ranboo. I’m down to try that.” Ranboo grinned in excitement. “Awesome! Okay, tomorrow, I’ll give you the grand tour.” Wilbur nodded, continuing. “I’ll admit Tommy left some holes in his stories-- almost as big as the one I apparently left in L’Manberg,” Wilbur added with dark chuckle. Ooohhh okay that didn’t seem like the greatest sign but dark humor wasn’t necessarily indicative of anything bad-- though it did, admittedly, make Ranboo feel a little wary. Caution would probably be best when handling everything. But that was okay! Ranboo was a cautious guy. He felt confident in his ability to, well, be cautious. “Yeahhh that’ll happen with Tommy,” Phil said to Wilbur in agreement, and Ranboo nodded in turn. The three chatted idly for a short bit, and then Ranboo left for the night, ready to sleep in his own bed after a week of travel, with the plans for tomorrow secured.

------

Ranboo woke up and did his morning routine, bracing himself for the plans he’d made for the day. In truth, he wasn’t really sure what to make of Wilbur still. He’d had an entire week to think about it, but it just seemed so complicated. He’d heard good things from Phil and terrible things from Tommy, about the man who had created a nation and also was now his older brother. It would be good to get to know him, though, Ranboo reasoned-- so the tour was a good idea. Ranboo found Wilbur tinkering with some things in Phil’s house, having very clearly been awake for quite some time. “You’ve been up a while,” Ranboo said, and Wilbur looked about to scowl at the intrusion before settling himself into a more neutral expression and nodding. “The sunrise; It’s beautiful,” he explained-- and suddenly Ranboo felt as if Wilbur might be okay after all. They headed off in relative silence aside from a passing remark from Wilbur about the magma cubes that consistently jumped to their deaths; the only thing of note about the nether was the vaguely safer renovation of the community portal.

“The community house looks different,” Wilbur commented, and Ranboo grimaced. “Oohhh yeah. It got blown up. Dream--” At least, as far as anyone knew it was Dream-- “Blew it up and framed Tommy for it while he was in exile. He used it as an excuse to blow up L’Manberg. With uh, Phil and Techno’s help actually, but y’know.” An unreadable expression crossed over Wilbur’s face, and he nodded. “Dream’s a tricky bastard, that doesn’t surprise me. I do remember Tommy’s exile, now, by the way, it--” Rage flashed across Wilbur’s face, almost too quickly for Ranboo to take note, but not quite quick enough-- before he took a breath and looked calm again. “It was rough,” He surmised instead. Ranboo nodded. That had been a horrible time. He’d tried writing letters, but, well. Ranboo decided to focus on the tour before the queasy feeling in his gut grew too big.

“Over therrrre is Kinoko Kingdom or whatever it’s called-- Sapnap and Karl live there I think? Also George maybe but that guy is always asleep so honestly who knows,” Ranboo said, gesturing to their right/the East. Wilbur looked like he was calculating something. “So there are new nations here after all?” Ranboo shrugged. “I mean I wouldn’t really call it a nation-- I don’t think there’s a government so much as a lot of buildings that nobody even lives in honestly.” Wilbur just frowned at that, despite it being true. Ranboo was beginning to think that maybe it’d be a lot harder to get on his good side than he’d initially hoped.

Ranboo walked out the other side of the community house and Wilbur trailed behind idly, long-legged stride making up for his casual pace. His dark eyes flitted about, searching for things the passage of time had and hadn’t touched. “The prime path is pretty much the same,” Ranboo said, desperately hoping the shift away from nation-talk would lighten Wilbur’s mood. “Oh! On the right there is Captain Puffy’s therapy office. I’ve heard about it from--” Actually, that was none of Wilbur’s business, no offense to him. “--From somewhere. That’s why it says ‘therapuffy’ on the sign.” Personally, Ranboo was very pleased with that pun. Puffy had done a good job with it. And Wilbur-- Wilbur actually quirked an eyebrow. “She’s started a therapy office, has she?” He mused, and Ranboo hummed in affirmation. “I s’ppose that’s useful. I’m sure a lot of people around here need it.”

“Apparently there’s a discreet box you can drop a note into to make an appointment,” Ranboo said, which was about as close as he was going to get to saying his real thoughts which were more along the lines of oh my god PLEASE get therapy you of all people need it especially considering you made your dad help you kill yourself and have been dead and gone for years in what you essentially described as hell. “That’s cool,” Wilbur said, and Ranboo nearly wilted a little, but he did take a small victory in the lingering glance that he noticed Wilbur left it towards it. Ranboo allowed himself to hope just a teensy bit that maybe Wilbur would visit again after the tour with nobody else around.

“On the left here is Niki and Puffy’s flowershop and bakery, and Fundy and I’s icecream shop we made to compete with them. Ours is just a little bit taller,” Ranboo added smugly. “They’re both kind of abandoned though, because--” Oh, that was not a good look on Wilbur’s face. It passed almost immediately, which was almost even more concerning. “Go on, Ranboo, what were you saying?” Wilbur prompted softly, and Ranboo hesitated but it was clear he wasn’t going to get anything out of that look. It was also, frankly, not something he was willing to unpack with the older man. “They’re both kind of abandoned, because I haven’t seen Fundy in a long while and I think Niki and Puffy kind of drifted apart? They were dating at one point I think,” He rambled, and relaxed a bit as Wilbur smirked, easily caught up in gossip and drama.

They passed by Church Prime-- Wilbur declining to go in for personal reasons-- Punz’s house, the karaoke stage, and the weird, pale-checked building, which had all been there since long before Ranboo’s time and thus didn’t earn anything more than a passing, melodramatic comment from Wilbur about familiarity and stagnation and how sometimes even the land couldn’t change. Ranboo didn’t really think that was a fair assessment, though. Basalt columns supported chunks of Punz’s house that bore visible fire damage. Nearly every time he’d passed by the checked building the inside had been renovated. He was pretty sure even the karaoke stage had been patched up a few times. But to be honest, being around Wilbur was awkward. Even the idea that he knew things that Wilbur didn’t didn’t seem quite right, since Wilbur had been there first-- with both L’Manberg and being Phil’s son-- even if he’d missed some time. So for now, Ranboo would just stick to the facts.

“That’s a Christmas building,” Wilbur said, aghast, pulling Ranboo out of his thoughts. “Hm? Oh! Yeah, that’s-- I think somebody lives there but I’m not sure actually. It’s definitely--” Ranboo made a noise, and Wilbur nodded his head at the noise. “Yeah. See, that’s something you and I can agree upon, Ranboo.” Wilbur then swivelled his head around and did a double-take. “Is that gay Target? ...Didn’t that used to be a walmart?” They passed the Targay, beginning the steep climb up the mountain, and Ranboo nodded, bemused. “It’s Targay, I think. Puffy renovated the walmart. It’s kinda been ‘opening soon’ since before I even got here though so I think it’s effectively abandoned. Tommy and I were talking about that the other day, actually.”

Speaking of, they reached the top of the mountain and Tommy’s plot of land-- “Tommy’s shit-fucking-shack is the same,” Wilbur said dryly, fake disgust in his voice betrayed by the fondness on his face. And there it was-- proof. Not for anybody other than Ranboo himself, of course, but it was there. Wilbur did care about something. Or someone, at least. Someone that Ranboo cared about, too. That was enough to get Ranboo’s confidence in his plan back up a bit. Good, actually. He liked being optimistic. Preferred it without a doubt to anxiety spirals and the idea that everything was doomed. “Pretty much,” Ranboo admitted, “But there’s a bunch of flowers and stuff around that were planted when-- when he was gone for a bit. He took down everything else. I guess he likes it looking like a hole in the hill.” Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to see the hotel and the prison and Snowchester next, or would you like to visit L’Manberg?” Ranboo asked, hoping Wilbur wouldn’t realize the near-slip-up had been alluding to Tommy’s death. The mischievous, conniving look in Wilbur’s eyes clouded, and the man looked thoughtful. Ranboo waited anxiously, fiddling with his hands. “Let’s go visit L’Manberg,” He said, taking the lead, and Ranboo followed behind. The man’s strides were purposeful, and though Ranboo did think that Wilbur could change, something about the way he was moving hinted at… lingering ideologies about the former nation. Also, Ranboo was internally pouting a bit about Wilbur taking charge now. It was meant to be his tour.

“I haven’t seen L’Manberg since I blew it all to kingdom come,” Wilbur remarked, Ranboo trailing nervously behind him. Confusion temporarily overrode his nerves, and Ranoo tilted his head. “Are you su-- really? I thought you said you remembered stuff that happened when you were-- Ghostbur?” Wilbur downright scowled at the mention of Ghostbur, and waved off the mention like he was shooing away a pesky fly. “I don’t see what Ghostbur has to do with that,” Wilbur huffed, and Ranboo was silent for a moment. Maybe-- hm, that would be interesting wouldn’t it? Because Ghostbur couldn’t remember the bad things, and the only example Wilbur had given of remembering Ghostbur’s memories was how awful exile had been for Tommy.

Ranboo was so focused on theorizing and figuring out how he might propose said theory to Wilbur that he nearly careened right into the man, who had stopped dead right at the end of the prime path. Luckily, he saved himself the dignity and Wilbur his dramatic moment right at the last second. If Wilbur noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He was staring out over the massive crater. “Wow,” Wilbur breathed mournfully, “I really did do a number on this place, huh.” He stepped off the prime path, minding the pockets where fire and explosives had scarred the earth. Ranboo watched him walk across the glass-- eerily, like a ghost taking long-forgotten trails, the transparent glass helping the illusion. Except, no, Wilbur was alive, and more importantly--

“You didn’t, actually,” Ranboo said bluntly, and Wilbur snapped out of whatever daze he had been in, the illusion shattered as the contradictory statement made him virulent and very much alive. “What?” Ranboo admittedly reeled a little at the tone, but come on. He didn’t. “You didn’t,” Ranboo reiterated; “Techno, Phil, and Dream were the ones to blow it to bedrock. Your explosion didn’t get anywhere close. And the reason I know that is because it flooded afterwards, but it didn’t even flood that deep. It’s why L’Manberg-- the one I knew at least-- was rebuilt on stilts,” Ranboo explained, carefully watching the expression on Wilbur’s face. The disdain on Wilbur’s face was slowly blotted out by confusion.

“What do you mean rebuilt on stilts?” Wilbur asked, and it was definitely visible on Ranboo’s face when it clicked for him that his theory had been correct. Wilbur didn’t actually remember Ghostbur’s memories-- not all of them, at least. He only thought he did because he, well, couldn’t remember the rest. Ranboo knew the feeling. “And what does that look mean?” Wilbur scoffed. “Well, you--” Ranboo felt his face get hot, the center of attention and eyes being on him never really the best for his enderman instincts. Ranboo opted instead to glance down at the bedrock, visible through the glass. “After-- after you died. L’Manberg was rebuilt. Tubbo said the land was still good, so when it started flooding they built it up on stilts and platforms. It was mainly Ghostbur that did the rebuilding, actually!” With the last fact, Ranboo glanced back up at Wilbur, who was just staring, trying to process what he’d just heard.

“So, you’re saying… I didn’t have a big impact on this place.” Wilbur prompted. Ranboo just sighed. “Well, you did. It just wasn’t all one thing, y’know? I know Tubbo-- I know Tubbo liked having L’Manberg around and so did Tommy. They were devastated when, well--” Ranboo gestured to the visible bedrock deep, deep below them-- “That happened. And Ghostbur rebuilt it, he made it beautiful, with the lanterns.” Ranboo paused. “Phil told me a bit about the lanterns, actually.” Something indiscernible crossed over Wilbur’s face. Then he looked almost bitter-- then-- Wilbur sighed. “See, Ranboo, I appreciate your trying to ‘tell me I’m not a bad guy’ or whatever,” Wilbur said, emphasizing the quotations with a false, mocking tone, and gesturing dramatically, “But it doesn’t really matter. This is my legacy! This crater. Everyone knows I’m a bad person. That’s just fact.”

“...I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Ranboo said quietly, wincing at how unconvincing that must sound even as genuine as he meant it. Wilbur scowled. “Why? Because Phil said?” Ranboo immediately countered, offended that Wilbur thought he couldn’t have his own opinions. “...No, not because Phil said. Because I don’t know you at all. We haven’t gotten a chance to meet. And I think that maybe you were a bad person, if you blew up L’Manberg, but I also think that you were going through some things that affected you and I think that people can change. Even if it’s only been a few years for us, it’s been thirteen years for you. You aren’t going to be the same person as before. And you deserve a second chance. Everyone does.”

Wilbur was the one to turn away this time, and Ranboo politely pretended not to notice the way his eyes had become more reflective and puffy. He seemed like he had something he wanted to say, and Ranboo would’ve let him, really-- but instead he looked out over the glass at the bedrock and rubble and dead vines that hadn’t yet been reclaimed by nature. Wilbur took a deep breath, and Ranboo waited in nervous anticipation. “What do you mean it’s ‘only been a few years for you’, Ranboo?” Wilbur asked. Oh. That had not been-- but he did have a good point. That was probably some important information that Tommy had apparently also left out.

“Tommy… didn’t tell you that either. Figures,” Ranboo muttered. “Okay so, when Tommy came back and said he’d been gone for months, it had only been two days, so…” Ranboo began, and Wilbur held up a hand, signalling him to pause for a moment. “Thank you for the tour, Ranboo,” Wilbur said, “But this has been a lot. Let’s walk and talk on this one, eh?” He sniffed, not in a cry-y way, in his usual talking way, (even if one would think it’d be in a cry-y way-- Ranboo tried to not let his thoughts wander too far, though), and said softly, “I’d like to go home.” It did catch Ranboo a little off-guard. There was still more to the tour! But… well, it did make sense, L’Manberg being what it was. Yeah. That seemed reasonable. “Alright, yeah,” Ranboo said, and the two found their way back to the prime path. “So since Tommy had been gone for two days but lived-- or unlived I guess?-- for months-- we figured time moves differently in the afterlife or whatever it is, right?” Ranboo explained the time differential to Wilbur as they walked, and the man was surprisingly free of snarky commentary the rest of the way home.

-----

They had trudged through the snow in complete silence, leaving Ranboo to his swirling thoughts about how he felt about Wilbur being his brother. He was trying hard to not think about it actually. The mix of the family thoughts and the snow on the ground did remind him that they never went to Snowchester for the tour. Honestly? Ranboo was okay with that. He hated to admit it, but he did not trust Wilbur around Michael. Okay, in all fairness, he didn’t really trust anyone other than Tubbo around Michael. Call it paranoia, or maybe “an awareness of what the rest of the people in the realm were like”. It was hard enough dealing with having a sibling when he’d only just gained a parent-- Ranboo really didn’t need to deal with whatever thoughts might come with Wilbur technically being Michael’s uncle. He shuddered to himself, and Wilbur glanced over questioningly, but Ranboo muttered about the cold and the man seemed to buy it.

Phil was waiting for them when they got home, and opened the door warmly to both of them. He shot Ranboo a questioning look when he didn’t immediately come inside, but Ranboo subtly shook his head-- Phil giving an almost unnoticeable tilt upwards of his head in acknowledgement. Talk later. “Sooo how’d it go?” Phil asked conversationally from the doorway, and Wilbur was startled out of his own thoughts. Luckily he didn’t catch the exchange they’d had. “Huh? Oh.” Wilbur turned to Ranboo thoughtfully. “The tour was lovely, thank you. You definitely did a better job than Tommy, at least. And cleared some things up for me.” Something about Wilbur, Ranboo had noticed, was always guarded. He guessed that’d be the paranoia. Or maybe old habits from being sneaky-- Phil had told some stories of when Wilbur was younger.

“I’m glad,” Ranboo said sheepishly though, “I’m glad I could do that and, clear some things up for you, yeah. And it was nice getting to hear your stories about the things that had been there for a while, too,” Ranboo offered, an open invitation for reconciliation, even if he still wasn’t sure what he’d done that made him and Wilbur get off on such a strange foot. Wherever Wilbur’s thoughts had been drifting to, they quickly snapped back at Ranboo’s softer tone. “Yes,” Wilbur said curtly, “Thank you for the tour, see you around.” And he promptly slipped past Phil, who was muttering baffled protests, into his room upstairs.

“What?” Phil squawked out as the door shut, and then turned to Ranboo. “I don’t-- what-- I’m sorry Ranboo I genuinely don’t know what that was about.” And Ranboo laughed, relieved to have someone else sharing in his confusion, feeling at home with Phil for the first time in a while since it was just the two of them. “I don’t either!” He admitted, sharing in Phil’s trait for giggling in confusion. “But I think I said something that maybe he thought was nice and he doesn’t like the fact that he thought it was nice…?” Phil sighed, and then laughed. “Yeah, yep, that’d do it. Wil’s-- He’ll come around. He’ll come around. He just needs some time to adjust to the situation properly.” Phil narrowed his eyes at Ranboo. Uh-Oh. It was his dad mode.

“And so do you. You can’t let him bully you around just ‘cuz he’s older or you think he gets more rights as my son due to seniority.” Ranboo flushed, feeling very caught-in-the-act. “Okay well hey wait a minute you didn’t have to call me out that hard,” he fake-complained nervously, and the two of them laughed. “I did though! It’s true!” Phil protested. “You’re as much family as he is,” Phil continued softly, and Ranboo desperately tried to not let his eyes water.

Phil, either due to his allergies for prolonged contact with softer emotions, or sensing the need for a mood change out of worry for Ranboo’s allergies to water, decided to change the subject back to Wilbur’s style of siblinghood. “--And Wilbur will bully you around ‘cuz he’s older. And you can’t let him get away with it or he’s gonna get away with it forever,” Phil scolded, “Ranboo, you have to grow a backbone.” Well that just hurt. “I have one, that’s not fair!” Phil, however, put his hands on his hips and looked sternly at Ranboo, who was thoroughly pouting. Then he sighed and laughed softly. “Fair enough, fair enough. That’s a start.”

They stood on the porch together for a moment, enjoying one another’s company. Phil sighed again. “How did the tour actually go? How was Wil?” He asked finally. Right! Now this was something Ranboo was prepared for. He straightened up, much to Phil’s dismay (because Phil was much shorter than Ranboo as it was). Ranboo laughed a little internally at that, but he was rather proud of his observation skills in this matter, so he was all business on the outside (not that this was business). “He was kinda melodramatic, honestly,” Ranboo explained, and Phil nodded; it did make sense that that wasn’t out of the ordinary. “I did point out to him where therapy was,” He added, Phil bursting out laughing in response to that with a sort of ‘bwahahaha’ sound. “Good,” Phil said, before letting Ranboo continue.

“He did… he did get a bit weird when it came to L’Manberg,” Ranboo admitted, and Phil sobered some at that. “He took over the tour and started talking about how it was his fault. Phil, I don’t--” Ranboo leaned down in a conspiratorial whisper, Phil drawing him closer to the door and away from any windows or line of sight. “--I don’t think he actually remembers Ghostbur’s memories. He just thinks he does. He only remembers the bad things from Ghostbur’s memories.” Phil paused. “Ghostbur had bad memories?” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

Ranboo nodded. “Yeah. I did clear up some stuff-- like how the bedrock leveling was you and Techno and Dream and not him, and he’d only been gone for a few years as opposed to thirteen like on his end.” Phil nodded some more, thoughtfully. “Ah, yeah. Thank you for clearing that up, Ranboo, I honestly-- time for me is, well, y’know.” He made a so-so gesture with his hand and Ranboo understood. “I do feel kinda bad about that, but uh-- I still stand by it. It had to be done. That government was corrupt.” Ranboo nodded. He had complicated feelings about that-- he supposed most of his feelings were complicated, actually-- but ultimately he respected Phil’s decision, and liked where he’d ended up because of it.

“And I take it you didn’t show him Snowchester.” Ranboo grimaced. “Yeahhh I didn’t really want to have that conversation. Plus it was in the opposite direction of L’Manberg, so…” Phil nodded once again. “Good thinking. We can chat some more later, yeah? When you’re comfortable doing so in a place that isn’t the freezing cold.” Ranboo nodded, grateful that Phil understood his hesitations even if he didn’t agree with them. Phil patted Ranboo’s arm softly as Ranboo headed off and he went back inside, and Ranboo was grateful for the time alone to think. Because a lot had happened, but he did want to think through that particular scenario, since it was important. Even if the family aspect was strange. Even with Ranboo being particularly protective. And especially with his relationship to Tubbo being what it was. So the question was this: How did Ranboo want to go about introducing Wilbur to his nephew, Michael?

[Until I publish this to AO3, anyone is welcome to ask to be tagged when the fic updates!] @enternalempires

#ranboo #wilbur soot #philza #dreamsmp #mcyt fanfic #they write #oh gosh please don't open this readmore on mobile. new tab is better #it's almost 5000 words #HERE IT IS CHAPTER TWO #oh gosh i'm so sorry it's been so long #my appointment for my finger injury ain't until october but. slow and steady writing should be alright

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

Folk Stories

Summary: Hakoda has been rescued from Boiling Rock and now has joined the little family his children have created. What a better way to warm everyone up than to tell a folk story he heard while he was in the prison?

Note: This is my first ATLA fic so feedback is crucial!!! I tried to get a grasp on the culture presented in the show but I’m not entirely sure I got everything. So please feel free to give feedback!!! A bog standard Gaang finds out about the scar fic!

Slight discussion around child abuse, no depiction but still be careful.

Arriving at the Western Air Temple was bizarre. That was the only way to describe it. The air was chilling with a constant gust. It felt somehow both fresh but also deadened. Like it wasn’t a new wind but rather the same old air forever cycling through the walls. The Temple itself was crumbling to pieces. The place felt… haunted. Not that that was a very sensitive thing to say. But despite the eight children running about and claiming it as home for a couple of weeks now, the place just felt wrong. Like it was wrong to even be standing here. He couldn’t imagine what Aang felt. Maybe it only felt so bizarre because it was the exact opposite of the modern spacious war ship with his very hyperactive chatty son who remained glued to his side.

Not that Hakoda could really complain. Sokka walked away once halfway through to relieve himself and he felt like he had lost a limb.

He walked off the ship as casually as he could and stiffly walked forward to the rest of the group. Immediately, he was knocked over with Katara. He tried to laugh it off but he clutched her just as tight. It still felt weird to be able to stand and hug her rather than ducking down. Her hair was wildly wispy over his face. She smelled of the campfire smoke that was cracking nearby. That was what was probably bringing tears to his eyes. After a heartful clinging hug, he finally noticed the rest of them looking at him. Right. Other people. He sat down with a welcoming smile and beckoned them all. They all sat and chatted.

What was made instantly clear was that all these kids were close. Like family close. Really, he should’ve saw this coming. Like when he tried to subtly ask Sokka on the warship if he was really sure he wanted to hang out with someone like Zuko and he was immediately met with a stern lecture. It almost made him laugh. His kids had the bad habit of just seeing a potential friend and deciding they would defend them to their deaths. Must have got that from their mother… probably.

He didn’t really mean to but he was so glad he was taking the time to sit with them all. While it did feel a little awkward, it made his chest glow to finally have the chance to actually know who his kids were hanging out with.

Toph seemed a lot, honestly. She was firm and extremely confident in her actions and morals. Which sounds like the exact thing the group needed. A firmer hand to guide them to their goal. Someone to help point Sokka’s genius. Someone to stop Katara and Aang from getting too emotional and getting them out of bad situations. Only problem was that she was a twelve-year-old girl. Her confidence in her actions was her being absolutely certain that punching was definitely an affectionate gesture and that crime should be allowed if it’s fun. But Hakoda found himself laughing along with her so he couldn’t complain much.

Haru seemed the closest thing to an actual responsible adult the group had. But he was very quiet. Very polite. But he seemed content to live his own life and try to get back to some form of normal. He was willing to fight and help the group survive but it was clear he was never going to be involved in helping Aang defeat the Firelord. Maybe that’s a good thing. Destiny wasn’t something he tried to understand but it was obvious that Aang should be the one alone to face him.

The Duke was a child. He was very fun to joke with but then again, every now and then, he would say something make it clear he was a child who had seen the very worse parts of war. He was a child who had never experienced a moment of childhood. His heart hurt for him, but he wasn’t an idiot to say that out loud.

Teo seemed so bright and cheerful compared to the deadened temple. Even compared to his usually bright loud kids. They were so stupidly excited at his arrival, but they still seemed dimmed in comparison to the little boy who was zipping about the place and chattering about potential inventions. He seemed like Sokka but younger.

Zuko… was also a lot. He was biased against him, so it was hard to judge an opinion. Zuko was mostly silent. Sokka would occasionally joke with him and force him into the conversation and Zuko seemed like any other average awkward teenager. But mostly the others let him keep quiet and he focused on what looked like some form of meditating at the campfire.

It was getting late. But no one dared stated this. Zuko only let the fire burn brighter or occasionally forced Aang to make the fire larger to light the room as a form of practise. Katara stood up at one point, “I’m grabbing my blanket, I’m getting cold. Does anyone else what theirs now I’m up?”

“Ooh! Me!” Aang whipped round with a sleepily excited smile.

“I’m good,” Sokka and everyone else mumbled without even turning, “So, dad, did you hear anything around the prison?”

“Hear anything?” Hakoda chuckled off but everyone turned serious. Sokka sighed and awkwardly fiddled his hands.

“Uh I mean any Fire Nation gossip? Any Firelord plans or propaganda? Anything that could help…”

Hakoda tried chuckling again but Zuko remained completely focused on the campfire. His chest slowly expanding with the flames. He didn’t even flinch. Maybe he could believe that Zuko truly wanted to help them but there was no way he’d appreciate the tiny whispers he heard about his nation. “I didn’t hear anything really useful. I heard some folk stories and a lot of twisted propaganda.”

“Hey, I’m still up for some Fire Nation camp stories!” Toph shrugged. Katara had now returned and flung Aang his blanket and draped another on Zuko’s shoulders. He finally opened his eyes and awkwardly nodded at her. Katara also stiltedly nodded back.

“It’s not a nice story…” Hakoda tried very much to hint as he looked directly at The Duke. Thankfully Haru took his hint.

“That’s fair, we should be heading to bed anyway. I’m exhausted!” He stood and pulled a half sleeping The Duke up as well. They all waved them goodnight. Their footsteps echoed across the empty stone hall as they disappeared into a room.

“Right. Now the babies are gone. Tell us the Fire Nation horror stories!” Toph chanted way too loudly for how late it was.

“It’s not a very happy story but I guess a story is a story,” Hakoda sighed. Being honest, while it wasn’t nice, it also didn’t sound at all real. But at least it would be a good way to wind down the emotional day.

“There’s this story about the Firelord and his sons. The younger son had grown jealous of his older sibling learning how to become a rightful heir to the nation.” Hakoda began, despite the fact he couldn’t really recall if it was the older or younger son. It made more sense if it was the younger son. But everyone was immediately clinging to his words. So, he continued, “Eventually he begged his father to attend an important meeting to gain experience and prove he could be responsible. The Firelord, well… the guard who told this story worded it that the Firelord was so gracious and kind to allow his son into the meeting but obviously… That doesn’t seem right.”

“The Firelord let him into the meeting despite knowing his son was not ready. The younger son was very immature and spoiled. He was rude to everyone, even the fellow royals…. That was something that I found odd. The guard worded it as fellow royals rather than family...”

“Hmm,” Zuko spoke, striking lightning through the atmosphere with just that hum. Hakoda now felt awkward. While it was clear the folk story wasn’t talking about his father, how wise was it truly to retell a story based on his family. “The Fire Nation places significance in respecting your elders but there’s also significance in following your own determination.”

“What, so you don’t care for your family,” Katara frowned.

“No… Respecting and bringing pride to your elders is a huge deal but… honestly, I think the Fire Lord wanted to still get people to report any rebelling ideals that family members might have. It’s… complicated.”

“Well, either way the son was a pain in the ass by the sounds of it and he was let into the meeting under the one rule, not to talk out of order. He explained that the councillors were sensitive and easy to anger and wanted to protect his son from harm. Of course, the son then immediately talks over a general in the meeting to suggest his own plan despite having no experience and no idea of the politics.”

At this, Zuko now frowned. Hakoda spoke slowly, fully expecting to be interrupted (maybe Zuko had heard this as well and he was telling it wrong), but he didn’t say a word. He just merely tensed his shoulders and stayed sat, frowning intensely.

“The general was furious and the Firelord tried to calm him, but he knew there was no way words would be enough to stop this. A duel was ordered. The son agreed without pausing to think this through. The Firelord tried to explain what would happen but the son brushed him off and interrupted him from explaining what would happen. The day of the duel arrived and the son stood to face his opponent only to find his father, the Firelord, at the other side of the court.”

Zuko’s eyes opened now. But he was now frozen facing the campfire. Hakoda paused again to let him talk but he said nothing.

“The son then proceeded to beg for mercy. But the Firelord had enough. The son was greedy, stupid and lazy. And now here he was begging after proposing an aggressive military strategy over an experienced military general. He offered to explain how the duel would work and protect him from it but he ignored him. The Firelord then gave him a chance to fight before declaring that the son was no longer part of the royal family for his disgrace. To try and teach his son one last lesson, the Firelord battled the duel to try and teach him how to fight. But the son didn’t even try, didn’t even stand up to face him. The son walked away that day with a hardy battle scar and no family.”

The silence in the temple felt like a presence around the campfire as well.

“Well!” Toph leaned back, “You were right. That was kinda a downer.”

“Yeah…” Aang mumbled.

“I think the point of the story is how forgiving and firm the Firelord is and how amazing he must be,” Hakoda grimaced, “But all who overheard it just thought it was more proof that the Firelord and his whole family are evil.”

“Who was it even based off?” Sokka asked.

“Two sons so maybe Firelord Azulon? But didn’t uncle Iroh leave by himself. Like he wasn’t kicked out or anything, was he?” Toph tilted her head to Zuko but he never reacted.

“Zuko?” Aang placed his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. He shot up. Like he was electrocuted.

“I am needing to go to bed.” Zuko scampered backwards. His eyes stuck on the flames. Sokka stood as well but he hovered awkwardly.

“Are you sure? Was it the story-“ Sokka tried to ask but he was immediately ignored. Zuko walked off to his room.

But he turned just as he was about to disappear from their view, “You should never repeat that story. It’s… not good.”

The night was just as awkward as the temple after that. A moment silently passed.

“Maybe we should all call it a night. It’s certainly been an emotional day,” Teo explained, tilting his chair towards the rooms behind where they were all sitting. Everyone agreed and stood as well. Aang was the last to stand and took a couple of breaths before finally manipulating the campfire to fizzle out completely.

“I’ll stand guard first,” Aang said, facing away from them.

“I’ll take over for the morning half,” Sokka volunteered. Hakoda walked away with the others.

The morning was a little better. If there was one more thing Hakoda could criticise the temple of, it was the fact that there was no way the sun could reach them on the underside of a cliff. He woke up and stretched his back, wincing at the horrible click, and stood and walked out of the room. Toph and Katara were half-heartedly arguing about how to cut some vegetables. He smiled at the quiet normalcy. You never realise how much you miss normal life until you hear people arguing about veg rather than battle strategies. “Morning everyone. The others still sleeping?”

“Hey dad! Aang is practising with Zuko, the others usually all crowd round to watch,” Katara answered, “Feel free to go watch too. It might be another twenty minutes or so for breakfast.”

“I’d go if I was you,” Toph interrupted, “It is so cool to see firebending up close without being in actual danger. And if you ever tell Sparky that then I’ll attack Sokka.”

“Yeah?” Hakoda asked, quietly ignoring the threat to his son.

“Oh yeah. The fire and the colours. It’s just mesmorising. A real sight to behold.”

“Toph,” Katara scolded and now Hakoda felt his face heat up. Right, she was joking. She was blind. “But she is right. It is impressive to see.”

After bothering Katara by asking if she needs any help, Hakoda followed the sounds of blasts of fires to a courtyard like space. Aang was standing proudly in the middle, his chest puffed out powerfully as he took deep even breaths. His arms twirled around, almost like waterbending, with a solid stance and footing, like earthbending, with powerful flames licking along his movements. Sweeps of orange. Katara really wasn’t joking. He stopped dead in his tracks.

Zuko was standing to the side with his fingers tapping along his chin. Aang finished whatever exercise he was doing and looked over with the proudest most childish grin ever. Hakoda found himself grinning too. Zuko stood slowly. To Hakoda, it looked flawless.

“How’d I do Sifu!” Aang chirped.

“Your fire is steady and strong. But I really do think you need to stop puffing out your chest like that and actually breathe normally. You don’t have to puff out like an aggressive pig-chicken. Just… breathe normally! You don’t need to complete the kata strictly chest first.”

“But you said the power should come from my chest!” Aang whined.

“Yes and ever since saying that you only moved chest first! You look stupid! Like a pig-chicken!” Zuko burst out.

“But my firebending is good enough! So it doesn’t even matter!”

“Yeah Zuko, you never know, maybe his stance will throw off the Firelord,” Sokka laughed despite Aang withering glare. Zuko only sighed and approached the middle of the courtyard and quickly snapped to another stance.

“Careful Aang, you’re starting to sound like the son in Hakoda’s story. Zuko knows best. You can’t talk over him!” The Duke yelled over with a point.

Now it felt like the atmosphere was ruined. Aang snapped to face the boy. Zuko stumbled but stepped back into position hesitatingly.

“Uh, the Duke, h-how’d you even overhear any of that?”

“Because Haru couldn’t be more obvious if he tried!” The Duke gasped, “It wasn’t even that bad. Like what was the scary part? The scar? He didn’t even explain what it looked like!”

“The story wasn’t even accurate. Let’s move on,” Zuko snapped.

“What? He didn’t tell it properly? Well, what is it actually?” The Duke asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Zuko shouted, his voice echoed along the walls. Hakoda finally walked forward, approaching Sokka.

“Everything okay here guys?” Hakoda put on his best dad voice and walked forward confidently. Only Sokka looked at him though.

“Why? It’s just some stupid Fire Nation story! What? You offended, Ashmaker!” The Duke screamed.

“Woah, okay now!” Hakoda raised his voice louder.

“Because it’s not some folk story. It was a real thing! You can’t just say shit like that casually!” Zuko didn’t bare Hakoda and his obvious dad attempt at taking control any attention.

“Oh boo hoo! One of your precious Fire Lords once beat up his own son to prove some stupid point! Oh no, your family is filled with abusive dicks!” Haru was now even trying to pull The Duke aside as Hakoda walked to Zuko. He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and steered him away.

He didn’t shout anything else but he did unleash a roar of fire before stomping just ahead of him. Sokka and Aang took one moment to swap looks before both running after Zuko. Not that he was paying any attention. Hakoda awkwardly paused, unsure which room to led Zuko to so he could obviously let out some steam, but thankfully Sokka caught up to them and led the way down the hall to the right, into the first room they found.

It was barren and already had blackened scorches across the walls and ceilings. Hakoda didn’t at all focus on that though. Maybe they were old or maybe it was from some previous Zuko tantrums.

Zuko punched the wall with all the might of his firebending. Sokka and Aang only winced at how obviously painful that was going to be but didn’t seem at all afraid of him. So Hakoda tried to follow their lead despite his racing heart.

“Everything okay, Sifu Hotman?” Aang joked but he toned himself down. He was only slightly a ball of blinding sunshine of happiness. Zuko tried to match his smile but it was too wobbly and fragile.

“Sorry. That story hit close to home.”

“We figured. If you want to talk about it, do you know what upset you about it?” Sokka knelt down and crossed his legs. They all followed, including Hakoda. One tiny whisper frowned at how much he was following his son’s lead. He remembered trying to convince a baby Sokka not to charge out of the tent completely naked and failing miserably as his son gave an impassioned speech about how it’ll be fun. It was that same boy that he was now following. Zuko fell to the floor deliberately harshly.

“I… I guess I hate- I don’t like what you all took from the story…” He stumbled through. Hakoda went to talk but Sokka placed a hand on his knee. A moment passed and Zuko finally found some more words, “You all took that the Fire Lord was cruel to do that. And you don’t even know the full story. Like, just the Fire Lord fighting his son was enough to mark him cruel. Even if the son was ‘a pain in the ass’?”

“Yeah,” Aang spoke unsurely but he continued saying each word carefully, “I mean, we don’t know a lot of the details about the son but I personally can’t think of any reason where I’d then fight my own son. Especially if he was a child or something!”

“Yeah, like if your son’s dismissive or rude or whatever, then you make more effort to talk to him! What would fighting him even do? It’s just more cruel than what’s needed.” Zuko looked up at Sokka as he spoke.

“It is cruel, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question but Hakoda tilted his head and answered, “Of course it’s cruel. I can’t imagine people hearing that and thinking the Fire Lord was in the right. As a certified dad, I don’t think there’s anything that could push me to fight Sokka. I can’t speak for the guards but… I think the reason the folk story didn’t go into any detail about the fight was so it’s easier to agree with the Fire Lord. I’m sure if the injuries were described then the guards would speak differently.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m honestly surprised the story didn’t go into any detail about the fight. That’s the most infamous part…”

“So what’s the actual story?” Sokka asked.

Zuko looked around nervously and bit harshly on his thumb.

“There… The son of the Fire Lord wanted to prove himself and attend a war meeting. The Fire Lord’s brother let him in but warned him that he shouldn’t talk. The generals were easy to anger. In the meeting, a general proposed the most… it was an awful plan. I uh… The son got too angry and shouted at the meeting. It was really disrespectful. It was an awful plan but, like, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad if he just spoke normally. Or maybe his uncle would’ve spoken out anyway. A-anyway, an Agni Kai was ordered. T-that’s like a duel between two firebenders, usually it ends with either one of the people surrendering or getting injured to the point of being unable to fight. The son thought he was to fight the old general who proposed the plan. And really the plan was horrible. It was awful. So he went to fight him as I could so take him in a fight!”

Sokka and Aang shared an uncertain look. That all seemed to align… But it was clear that this was hitting too close to Zuko. He was refusing to look at them as he spoke. His anger flared again and each word was practically growled out.

“So the day of the fight came and the boy turned to face his opponent and instead saw father down the court. I… uh… I then fell to my knees and begged. I knew there was no use fighting. I’m not a very talented firebender, even less so at thirteen! So I thought the best thing would be to just… surrender. The Firelord usually prefers if you just surrender and admit your wrong than to fight. He liked when you made him feel… anyway I… well I fell to the floor and begged while crying. I-I can’t imagine what that must’ve looked like to the audience-“

“Wait, there were people watching!” Sokka exclaimed. Hakoda only then remembered the rest of the room. The story was too cold for him to notice anything else. Aang looked just as horrified, shifting on the spot clearly dying to launch himself at Zuko as a comfort. Zuko looked just as caught off.

“Um yeah? Like nobles and the other royal family members.”

“So Uncle was there?” Aang’s timid small voice ripped through the angry shocked words.

“Well yes. Also, he’s not your uncle!”

“He didn’t do anything?”

“No. I don’t think he could’ve.” Zuko fiddled with his hands.

There was a beat of silence.

“So your dad beat you up in front of everyone and then banished you? You were upset because we all saw that as cruel while you blamed yourself for that,” Sokka started strong before then realising just how insensitive he was being. Way to rub it in his face.

“He didn’t beat me up. He just burnt me,” Zuko casually motioned his to warped face and perpetually squinting eye to which everyone else in the room stopped breathing, “but yeah he then banished me. I-I… It’s… Three years is a long time to pass. I don’t really remember pretty much anything from that day really. Uncle never talked about it so I don’t know exactly what happened. I thought I got over it by now. I know it was cruel. It was wrong. But… I guess I just thought that was me making excuses… It’s weird to think other people actually think it’s wrong and cruel.”

The dead air of the temple never felt more gross. Like a panting stranger leaning over your shoulder leering over you. A presence in the room listening in. The room looked empty even with them all sitting there. The story somehow filled the room and now it was finished. Hakoda gulped.

“I’m so sorry Zuko,” Aang breathed out before gradually reaching over. Zuko blocked his hands from hugging him but did grip his hands instead.

“No dad should ever do that Zuko. And a journey into recovery will never have a nice easy end. But if you already know it was wrong then you’ve already made it so far. You should be proud of yourself,” Hakoda smiled warmly. Zuko still didn’t meet his eyes.

It would probably be a while before Zuko would truly believe that it was cruel and wrong, and clearly the entire family here was willing to wait and teach that. Hakoda kept his mind from thinking how long it took for Zuko to even convince himself that maybe it was cruel and wrong. Right now, he focused on the warm, forgiving, loving family formed in the ruins of a cold temple.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #zuko #hakoda #gaang #gaang kids #yes I included haru teo and the duke #angst #hurt/comfort #My writing #my fic #fanfic

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abreathofthewild · 4 years

Text

a touch of magic

Prompt: This TikTok

Tagline: Sometimes all you need in life is a touch of magic.

Summary: A Halloween in the life of Thor and Reader and their family.

Warnings: this fluff will rot your teeth.

Wordcount: 1664

Notes: I am so excited to be posting this! I was inspired by the above-mentioned TikTok and after deliberating which character I wanted to write this for, Thor felt like the most appropriate choice. This piece is self-indulgent fluff, friends. I hope y'all enjoy and that you get to have a safe and fun Halloween! ALSO: IMAGE IS NOT MINE I FOUND IT WITH NO EXTERNAL LINK ON PINTEREST.

It’s Halloween. You had chosen something simple for your costume: a long black dress with gauzy black sleeves that puffed a little at the shoulders and were cuffed at the wrist. A black witch’s hat with a large swooping brim sat smartly on your head. Typically, you went all out but this year you really wanted your kids’ costumes to shine. It had taken you six months in between the creative writing courses you taught to sew Darcy’s Belle gown and half of that time to put together Cole’s knight armor. You could hear them clambering down the stairs now shrieking with laughter.

“Mm, I love that dress on you,” a deep voice said behind you. You applied your red lipstick as the final touch, smirking at Thor’s reflection in the mirror. His massive frame took up the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you an affectionately approving once-over. You turned and sauntered over to him, taking in the picture of your husband standing there. Even after all this time, there were moments where his words still made you shiver. He matched your movements, stepping further into the room and into your space as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Do you, now?” You stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s why I wore it.” Another kiss on his lips. He leaned into you, smiling as he returned the kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my wolfman.” It seemed only natural with his tousled golden hair and beard that he would recycle one of his favorite costumes and step out in the neighborhood as a werewolf. He wore a red and black flannel over a white shirt that he had cut in three spots with long slashes. His jeans were purposefully torn in a couple of places and instead of applying any product to his hair he had ruffled it and left it a bit unkempt. The best part in your opinion, however, was the fangs. “Love when you wear those,” you murmured, running your tongue along the fake teeth.

It didn’t take long for him to move you until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Wish we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he whispered, giving you a soft nip at the neck. A small gasp escaped your mouth as your gripped at him tighter. “Maybe we could get a babysitter,” he said as he kissed from your neck down the v of your dress. You could feel the familiar heat creep along your cheeks and flutter in your belly.

“Mommy! Daddy! Cole pushed me!” Darcy was exclaiming her frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Even from here, you could hear her stamping her little feet.

“Did not!” Cole chimed in with the vehemence characteristic of a seven-year-old trying to not get into trouble for bullying his six-year-old sister. You let out an exasperated laugh as Thor groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You sidled under his arm and grabbed his hand, dragging him along.

“It sounds very tempting hon’ but you know how much the kids have been looking forward to this year. Plus, they’d miss us. Plus,” you whispered as you pulled him in to rub the red smudges from his cheek and lips “I already got us a babysitter for tomorrow night.” You let go of his hand and gave one glance behind you, trying not to let your feet falter at the look in his eyes. He followed close behind.

The scene downstairs wasn’t so great as the one you had just left. Darcy had started crying and Cole looked a little like he had been caught doing something wrong. You went to her but she shook her head saying in between tears “I want Daddy.” You motioned to her as Thor came down the stairs.

“Of course. He’s right there. I’ll talk to Cole for you instead, okay darlin’?” She nodded, her eyes puffy and red. Her bottom lip stuck out and was still quivering when Thor knelt in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and adjusting the laces on her dress sleeves. Even upset she was the prettiest little girl you had ever seen (you were biased), especially with the soft yellow of the ballgown she wore. Cole on the other hand looked quite miserable, his armor sticking out at odd angles because his arms were crossed. You took his hand and walked him a few feet away into the living room and sat on the couch so you were at eye level. “Cole, did you push your sister?” He didn’t quite look you in the eye.

“Yes,” he mumbled. You pursed your lips and gave him a disappointed glance, waiting for him to continue. “She told me my costume was stupid,” he finished quietly. You put your index finger under his chin and gently turned his face so he was looking at you.

“Do you like your costume?” He nodded, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. So like his father. “Well, then that’s all that matters. I know your sister hurt your feelings but that was no reason to push her. She’s allowed to not like your costume but she definitely needs to use better words. Can you think what you could have done differently?” A begrudging and wavery sigh escaped the little boy in front of you.

“I could have used my words too. I could have told her that hurt my feelings.” You gave him a beaming smile.

“Exactly. Next time, let’s work on using your words, okay? And if you need help, you can always ask Daddy or me. Now, I’m going to wave the magic wand and when I do, I want you to try really hard not to smile. You can’t smile, all right?” You tried to hide your own as you already saw the hints of one teasing at the corner of his mouth. It was an old trick your mother had used on you whenever you were unreasonably cross as a child or needed cheering up. She would tell you not to smile as she waved “the magic wand” which was really just her hand. Of course, the act of telling you not to smile alone would bring one immediately to your face. Sure enough, as you did the same to your little boy, a grin had sprung from ear to ear across his features. “There’s my beautiful boy. I need you to do one last thing for me. Can you apologize to Darcy? We want to have so much fun tonight!”

Cole bounded away with such enthusiasm you would have never known he had quarreled with his sister moments before. You followed behind him, grabbing your coat and his from the hooks by the front door. He was already standing in front of his sister and as Thor stood, he wrapped her up as best he could in his clanky armored arms.

“I’m sorry I pushed you, Darcy.” You watched with a knowing smile as she hugged her brother back. Her little voice piped up as you caught Thor’s eye, guessing he had had a similar talk with your daughter.

“I’m sorry I called your costume stupid.” He looked at you as the siblings slipped on their shoes, now chattering happily about the candy they were going to collect. You handed Cole his jacket to put on and stepped back as Thor wrapped an arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, once again taken aback by how blue his eyes were. The small crinkles of the skin there looked a little more pronounced but you knew it was from smiles and laughter. His hair had started silvering just a little around the sides, no longer the burnished gold of his youth. You brought his hand from your waist to your shoulder, kissing it tenderly. Even his hands now held some looks of a man who was still young but had worked long and hard.

He turned you towards him and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his gaze. It was tender and after all these years still full of promise. You felt something trip across the connection you shared. A hand to his heart told you it still beat for you, still thundered under your fingertips. The flame that had once burned bright hot when you first met had now turned to a steady glowing ember. One that would last a very long time.

“What?” He questioned you with a lazy grin. You just shook your head in a bit of disbelief.

“I’m just very, very happy,” you whispered. “I can’t believe you, all this, is mine to keep as long as I live.” He looked at you for a moment, stunned into silence. You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of words to answer you, instead settling on leaning in for yet another kiss.

“As long as we live, I’m yours and you are mine.” Nothing else mattered. It was you and him and the kids. Your family. Your family. To love and cherish and nurture. He stepped back and boomed “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?” The rumbling of their father’s voice brought Cole and Darcy to ecstatic attention as they bounced in their places by the front door. They both yelled “Me! Me!” as Thor opened the front door letting them run past its threshold and ushering you next to him as he locked it. “As long as we live,” he repeated and you nodded, grabbing his hand as you turned onto the sidewalk.

Leaves danced across the pavement in flaming reds and oranges and yellow. The kids trotted on ahead, screaming in delight as they caught up with neighborhood friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and promises. Promises that the two of you would always keep. And you were safe. And you were happy. And you were alive.

#thor #thor x reader #thor x reader and ocs #dad!thor #i feel like thor def made the most sense #because of how adorable he always looks with the kids #inthorantine writes #halloween

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years

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Chopped: Holiday Trope Exchange 2020 Masterlist!

A huge thanks to every person who signed up for our fic exchange, we got 21 really wonderful fics! We’re sorry it took us so long to get this out to you all! For anyone who isn’t sure what this was all about, this was a double blind gift exchange where each of our twenty-one (21!!!) writers were assigned four tropes from an anonymous recipient, and were tasked with writing a fic that fit our holiday theme, and included all the tropes. The only guidance from their recipient were a couple of brief notes they included during the sign up, and both the writer and recipient were revealed when we shared all the fics! A big thanks to the Tropesters who stepped up to write a second fic when we needed them! These fics, as with all our TROPED fics, were creative and unique, and found ways to utilise tropes that may seem so simple but were transformed in really spectacular ways! Please enjoy these wonderful holiday fics!

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roots in my dreamland (my house of stone, your ivy grows) (Rated M) [Bellarke]

Written by @captaindaddykru for @thelittlefanpire. The four assigned tropes were 1) Doppelgängers, 2) one character is a dancer, 3) first snow, and 4) kissing to keep a cover/a secret.

Summary: Clarke really wants it to work out with Bellamy, but as an A-list Hollywood actress there’s a lot of contractual obligations she can hide behind instead of confronting her own insecurities and past mistakes. Luckily, this Christmas she’s lucked out, and her stand-in Josie is more than willing to (completely selflessly of course) take her place.

Now comes the hard part.

brighter than moonbeams (Rated T) [Memori]

Written by @the-most-beautiful-broom for @thedefinitionofendgame. The four assigned tropes were 1) The characters play a game,2) Secret Santa, 3) Exes to Lovers, and 4) Surprise kiss.

Summary: Murphy and Emori fall in love fast, and then talk themselves out of it. Years later, their paths will cross again, and they realize that their might be parts of their story that are yet to be written.

What a way to start the year (Rated T) [Bellarke]

Written by @bellarkeshoe for @bellamysgriffin. The four assigned tropes were 1) Law enforcement partners, 2) Character gets BADLY injured and they hide it somehow only to reveal later that they are mortally wounded, 3) Characters hugging after they’ve been through hell, and 4) Kissing in the snow.

Summary: It’s New Years Eve, and Bellamy and Clarke got stuck working.

It’s Alright, It’s Okay (Rated M) [Clurphy]

Written by @sailawaymayday for @wwjacksparrowd. The four assigned tropes were 1) Found Family, 2) Groundhog Day/timeloop, 3) Character gets shot/stabbed/BADLY injured and hides the wound somehow, only to accidentally (someone else touches them and their bleeding, they collapse, etc.) reveal later that they are mortally wounded, and 4) Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Clarke makes it onto the Ring with the rest of Spacekru. What happens when New Years Eve keeps repeating itself? And what does Murphy have to do with it?

Dancing in Graveyards: An Arkadia Anthology (Rated T) [Gen Fic]

Written by @justbecauseyoubelievesomething for @kinetic-elaboration. The four assigned tropes were 1) Small town gothic, 2) Christmas Lights, 3) First snow, and 4) Sneaking someone in/out of your window.

Summary: Three small town gothic stories intertwine as old friends reunite and try to make the best out of their lives. Raven returns home after her foster father’s death and is pulled like a magnet to her enigmatic highschool sweetheart. Jasper seeks solace from a tragedy and desperately attempts to outrun the ghosts of the past. Bellamy battles his inner demons and prays not to tear himself and his loved ones apart in the process. And all of them come to realize that they belong together, even if the place they call home is shadowed by sorrow.

do or die, you’ll never make me (because the world will never take my heart) (Rated T) [Bellarke]

Written by @shen-gong-oops for @probably-voldemort. The four assigned tropes were 1) Fake dating, 2) Amnesia AU, 3) Enemies to Friends to Lovers, and 4) Superhero AU.

Summary: As the youngest member of the Guard and the daughter of the Guard former leader, there are high expectations set for Clarke. The Marketing and PR teams at Ark expecting her to be prim and proper during any conferences, while simultaneously performing their well-rehearsed fight choreography to a T.

But when four unknown supes challenge the juggernaut that is Ark Industries, Clarke wonders if herodom isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Merry Christmas, Lovebirds (Rated G) [Murven]

Written by @kinetic-elaboration for @shen-gong-oops. The four assigned tropes were 1) One character cautiously says “i’m going to kiss you now, okay?” or some variation of that, 2) Mutual pining, 3) A misunderstanding, and 4) Tattoos.

Summary: There’s never snow for Christmas on the beach, Murphy is a culinary genius, Raven has a boyfriend, and other presumed facts, too obvious to mention.

Once Upon Our Story (Rated G) [Bellarke]

Written by @andthelightbulbclicks for @bellamythology. The four assigned tropes were 1) break-up/make-up, 2) Did they or didn’t they, 3) Extremely biased flashbacks of the same event, and 4) Bookstore or library AU.

Summary: Bellamy returns with as much fanfare as one can imagine when driving a school bus decorated as Santa Claus through town, leaving Clarke shocked and all of their friends confused given he hasn’t been home in months.

(Or: Six months ago, Bellamy left Arkadia.

Six months ago, Clarke didn’t.

Six months ago, their friends knew the relationship ended, even came up with their own versions of what really happened. But the question that they all want to know for certain– is why?)

Dream A Little Dream of Me (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @queenemori for @vmreed. The four assigned tropes were 1) One character has a child, 2) Protectiveness, 3) Only one bed, and 4) Soulmates.

Summary: It was just Murphy’s luck that right as he was starting to enjoy Earth, he had to leave. But he’d rather that than succumb to a fiery death wave. He and the other residents of the Ring remembered Clarke every year during their New Year’s Eve celebration. But even when they weren’t celebrating Clarke, Murphy couldn’t seem to get her off his mind. He wished his brain would stop playing tricks on him by making him think she was alive. Clarke was dead. Wasn’t she?

i don’t wanna burn out, so wont you please set me on fire again? (Rated M) [Murven]

Written by @kuklash for @sparklyfairymira. The four assigned tropes were 1) Protectiveness, 2) Exes and Lovers, 3) Small Town AU, and 4) Characters fall on each other and have a moment.

Summary: The wind nipped at Murphy’s nose as he stood in the doorway of the gas station on the edge of town. Work was slow, as it always was after sundown, especially in the mid-December cold, but someone had to make sure the good townsfolk of Arkadia could get their milk and gas after the small general store closed. All 800 of them. He watched the cars drive by throughout the day, recognizing each and everyone of them. Bellamy’s beat up truck he worked all highschool to afford, Clarke’s clean new sedan, even that jerk Finn’s loud ass motorcycle. He watched them all pass one by one, his old classmates returning home after another semester of college at the University of Polis. The only sign that time was passing at all.

The phone inside rang, breaking him out of his melancholy, at least for now.

“Great,” he thought, sarcastically. “A phone call 10 minutes before we close.”

He walked back inside and put on the most cheerful customer service voice he could muster.

“Dropship Gas, this is Murphy. How can I he-”

A familiar female voice cut him off, leaving him cold.

“Murphy? Thank god!”

It was his ex.

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you (Rated M) [Bellarke]

Written by @sparklyfairymira for @captaindaddykru. The four assigned tropes were 1) Celebrity AU, 2) Meet Ugly, 3) Characters must share something, and 4) Characters aren’t together but are mistaken to be.

Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin are household names thanks to their music. They belong to the same label so they often work together on duets—even though they can’t stand one another. Their first meeting is disastrous and six years later they still can’t get along.

toward brighter days (Rated T) [Sea Mechanic]

Written by @reggieshamster for @/ashplana. The four assigned tropes were 1) Apocalyptic Log, 2) bed sharing, 3) road trip au, and 4) mythical creatures.

Summary: Dear Harper,

I am ridiculously out of it this morning. Last night, when we reached the campsite, Luna suggested we give Echo her own bedroll, since she gave hers up the night before.

Which meant Luna was sleeping with me.

Beside me.

Excerpts from Raven’s journal as she travels to Polis for the Winter Solstice Festival

three words, two hearts, one maybe (Rated G) [Bellarke]

Written by @bellamysgriffin for @bellarkeshoe. The four assigned tropes were 1) Youtuber AU, 2) best friend’s sibling, 3) frikdreina, and 4) miscommunication.

Summary: After an accident blinds Clarke, Octavia’s been encouraging her best friend to keep up with her artwork. In order to inspire her, she recruits the help of her older brother, Bellamy, who’s recently launched a new exhibition at his museum, to feature her work. Bellamy likes Clarke’s work, and he’s more than happy to help. But when she doesn’t show on the big day, he takes matters into his own hands. With an old video camera, he records people’s reactions to Clarke’s artwork so that she’ll know just how talented she is. But when he sends it to his sister, he doesn’t expect her to upload it to YouTube. And he definitely doesn’t expect to go viral.

Something Beautiful, Simple, and Bright (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @wwjacksparrowd for @queenemori. The four assigned tropes were 1) Friends with Benefits AU, 2) Prank war, 3) characters are not together but are mistaken for a couple, and 4) Based on a Song.

Summary: Six months after Wonkru and Eligius manage to establish peace and divide Eden between themselves (with a little slice shaved off for Spacekru, of course), Clarke has a mission: plan a New Year’s Eve party for fifteen hundred people within three weeks.

Murphy’s mission? Stop her from burning out in the process. Oh, and if he could just get Monty to quit it with the freaking noisemakers, that would be great, too.

(…Okay, yeah, he’d also like to date Clarke for real instead of just sleeping with her. But that’s a pipe dream, right?)

put your faith in the devil and the deep blue sea (Rated M) [Clurphy]

Written by @probably-voldemort for @kuklash. The four assigned tropes were 1) Time Loop AU, 2) Characters fall on top of one another and have a “moment”, 3) Enemies to Lovers, and 4) Superhero AU.

Summary: Twenty years ago, when the clocks changed from 11:59pm on December 31st, 1999, to 12:00am on January 1st, 2000, the world ended, exactly as the doomsdayers had predicted. Now, there are only a few livable months left on Earth, and the privileged are evacuating for a life in space, abandoning the planet.

But not everyone has given up.

Clarke was only three when the world ended, and she’s spent most of her life in her mother’s lab. Now, as the last space ships are preparing to leave, her mother’s machine is finally ready, and Clarke and her mother are heading back in time to try to stop the apocalypse from happening in the first place.

An attack on the lab leads to Clarke heading back to 1995 on her own, and the past isn’t quite how Clarke’s vague memories from the beginning of her life paint it. Clarke soon discovers that not only did the machine do more than just send her back in time, but she wasn’t, in fact, sent back alone.

Will she be able to stop the apocalypse before the clock strikes midnight? Or are some parts of history unchangeable?

All I Want For Christmas (Rated T) [Memori]

Written by @thedefinitionofendgame for @the-most-beautiful-broom. The four assigned tropes were 1) Fake dating, 2) Joke kiss turned real kiss, 3) One character is sleeping and the other character is watching them totally in love, and 4) Blanket fort.

Summary: Tired of being single, Murphy decides to take matters into his own hands and get himself a girlfriend before the annual Christmas Day dinner with his friends. Having had bad luck in the past with girls - all twenty four of them - Murphy is determined to make the twenty-fifth, the “Christmas Day” number, his forever.

Of course, this is easier said than done. When his fellow coworker, Emori, seems to be having similar problems and suggests them being each other’s “fake dates” to their Christmas parties in December, Murphy jumps at the chance. Fake dating is better than being totally alone, right? It appears that way, at least until Murphy starts to catch feelings; the ones that make you question everything you think you know. As their “fake feelings” start to become more real, Murphy realizes that Emori’s the one he wants for Christmas. But she’s got walls up and even though his heart doesn’t stand a chance, Murphy’s determined to break them down and show her what falling in love really means, maybe with the help of a little December magic thrown in.

As long as we’re together, no I can’t get much higher (Rated T) [Murven]

Written by @dylanobrienisbatman for @andthelightbulbclicks. The four assigned tropes were 1) Zookeeper AU, 2) Treasure Hunt, 3) secret places, and 4) Secret Santa.

Summary: Murphy has only known Raven for a little while, but the longer he spends getting to know her, the more he realises that there’s no hope of him not falling in love with her.

So when he gets her for Secret Santa, he makes it his mission to nail it.

before i knew you (Rated G) [Clexa]

Written by @dylanobrienisbatman for @sailawaymayday. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Pen Pals, (2) 3+1, 4+1, 5+1, etc., (3) surprise kiss, and (4) character meets another characters ex.

Summary: What do you do when your penpal, the person you know the best in the world, who you love, turns out to be the rather rude (if also rather pretty) sales girl from downstairs? Lexa is about to find out. or - 3 times lexa and clarke meet without knowing they’ve been penpals since childhood, and the 1 time Lexa figures it out.

when life gives you shit, you make kool-aid (Rated M) [Becho]

Written by @reggieshamster for @dylanobrienisbatman. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Bodyguard AU, (2) Bed Sharing, (3) Kissing to Keep Cover/a Secret, and (4) a Character gets shot/stabbed/badly injured and they collapse, being caught by their loved one.

Summary: Bellamy used to have it all, and then one screw-up cost him his career and his fancy life. Now, working as a bodyguard for alcoholic businessmen and their families, he gets a call from his sister for a job… escorting a hitwoman to testify against a man convicted of crimes against humanity. What could possibly go wrong?

and left the secret at the grave (Rated T) [Clurphy]

Written by @probably-voldemort for @justbecauseyoubelievesomething. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Murder Mystery, (2) Partners in Crime, (3) Exes to Lovers, and (4) Snowed In.

Summary: At 8:57 on the morning of December 23rd, eight year old Jordan Green discovered the body of Skybox Inn owner Vera Kane on the floor of the lobby. His screams woke up the other guests of the inn, as well as the live-in butler.

The discovery of the body was followed shortly by two more discoveries. The first was that the storm the night before had knocked out the phones and the internet, and the second was that the inn was completely snowed in with no hopes of escape anytime soon.

Thirteen people trapped in an inn.

Uncountable secrets.

One murderer.

One question.

Who killed Vera Kane?

what a tangled string of Christmas lights we weave (Rated T) [Linctavia]

Written by @thelittlefanpire for @reggieshamster. The four assigned tropes were: (1) Royalty AU, (2) Cyrano AU, (3) Characters fall and end up landing on top of each other and have a “moment”, and (4) Hair brushing and/or braiding.

Summary: When the royal family loses their beloved Prince Wells, the future king of Arkadia, all eyes are on them. The Queen remains as stoic as ever, the Spare grapples with his new responsibilities, the Princess drowns in her grief, and the King is threatening to abolish the monarchy forever.

At Christmastime, as tensions in the palace rise with the vicious tabloids outside, the royal family makes an escape to a castle in the mountains, hoping to find solace and reconcile with their loss.

Princess Octavia will try to mend her broken heart back together as she becomes entranced with the letters sent back and forth between herself and another. But when it’s revealed who the true penman is, will she rise above her sorrow or sink further into it?

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Take a read! Leave a kudos/comment! Our Tropesters worked so hard on creating some unique, festive fun fics from all the amazing tropes that were sent in. Thanks again!

#TROPED: masterlist #chopped: holiday gift exchange #chopped: holiday trope exchange #chte 2.0 #chte2020 #masterlist #the 100 fanfiction

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neuxue · 4 years

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Hello hello. I just started watching The Untamed and found your blog and it's been a lot of fun because, somebody has already put my mental screaming into words so thank you for that! I'm kind of mentally stuck on the events of the Lotus Pavillion massacre tho and just had to get my thoughts out because I haven't seen this said anywhere yet? So,1- When JC and Sis are in mourning they leave everything so WWX. except he just got whipped and it would've taken him a month to heal. Soooo (1/2)

(2/2) yeah WWX in also in excruciating physical pain on top of emotional and mental and nobody notices or remembers that his back is shredded.

Oh man okay, so. On the one hand, you are not wrong. On the other hand...

I’ve said this before, but something I like about this show is the approach it takes to letting everything go to shit, in that it’s often not any specific person’s fault so much as it is a whole bunch of people’s virtues and flaws and insecurities and intentions good or ill all snagging against each other.

Because my own interpretive lens tends to be biased towards... looking from every character’s perspective and optimising for maximum pain to maximum number of characters (dark ethics, show me the forbidden utilitarianism) rather than assigning blame to any specific one.

So, with that lens in place, my take on this (and yours may be different!):

On no one noticing/remembering Wei Wuxian being in pain

I’m always here for the ‘how are you even standing’ trope and it may not be outright stated in the episode but Wei Wuxian has been whipped by magical lightning to the extent that it’s a believable claim to make that he won’t be able to walk for weeks. (Whether Yu Ziyuan exaggerates in an attempt to convince Wang Lingjiao to leave them alone is... a topic for another time, but either way it’s a pretty sure bet Wei Wuxian’s in agony).

Thing is (and this, too, is its own kind of devastating), Wei Wuxian is not unaccustomed to ignoring, downplaying, and enduring extreme pain. And he has effectively conditioned everyone around him to go along with it. Maybe they don’t always completely believe him, but he’s just so good at drawing everyone into his pretense with him that I don’t think they always see the degree to which he’s hurting (or at least they know it’s futile to push it).

I also think it’s not unlikely that he’s experienced this specific pain before (and, if so, likely has practice in pushing through this exact experience, so that his siblings won’t worry, won’t feel guilty, won’t have to choose between him and their mother. Which would only hurt them if they knew, and really any way you spin it that family is a mess on so many levels, ow).

Also, not insignificantly, adrenaline is one hell of a painkiller, while it lasts.

So he’s able to take pain that should have anyone else on their knees and just... put it aside, ignore it, push through it without a word.

Enough so that Jiang Yanli (who wasn’t there and therefore actually doesn’t know what has happened) doesn’t realise. Enough so that Jiang Cheng (who was there, but is, I think, practised at not seeing or not thinking about certain things--another topic for another time, but Jiang Cheng has been hurt and shaped by this family just as much as Wei Wuxian has, though in different ways) doesn’t question Wei Wuxian standing up with a makeshift oar to try to bring them all back to their family.

It’s as if we’re seeing the damage of all three of them, with respect to the particular dysfunction of their family, playing out here. Wei Wuxian masking pain in order to protect (prioritise) his siblings. Jiang Cheng seeing the image he is presented, rather than dealing with the truth he fears. Jiang Yanli being set aside, shielded (overlooked). This feels like a pattern that has played out before, all of them playing their roles. Which, you know, hurts.

On everything being ‘left’ to Wei Wuxian

On paper, that is pretty much what happens. But I tend to read this as... all three siblings’ established characterisation, their existing dynamic, and the ways in which different people respond to crisis, panic, and grief.

Firstly, this is what Wei Wuxian does. He sacrifices himself at every opportunity to protect those around him (especially but by no means exclusively his siblings).

That’s even more true now, with the last words of both his adoptive parents in his ears (‘protect them’), the reminder of what he has written into the very fabric of himself: that he owes them, that they are more important, that his only value is in his capability, and even that has value only when used to help others. That he is nothing and they are everything, and so the only acceptable option is to sacrifice himself in whatever way is necessary.

Which, you know, hurts. And we can put no small portion of the blame for that on his upbringing, and on the cultivation world as a whole for the way it regards reputation and bloodline and family and obligation and role.

But here’s the thing: there’s plenty of emotional damage to go around! Because Wei Wuxian does this, each time, unasked and unasking. He just... steps up quietly, ignores his own pain, and does what he feels is necessary--regardless of whether those he is doing this for would want that from him.

(I’m not going to argue the ethics of that one way or the other because that’s not really my point here; my point is more just that he makes that choice unilaterally, and it hurts for all of them. Wei Wuxian because he has so deeply internalised the thought that he has to do this, and his siblings because they probably don’t want to see him hurt).

Finally, there’s the whole issue of how people cope in a crisis. No one in this scene is operating at 100% rational capacity. They’re shocked and hurt and grieving and terrified, and that combination makes for a kind of... not always tunnel vision, exactly, but snap decisions and narrowed focus and a kind of brutal triage: if it’s not immediately relevant and vital, it doesn’t register. So, the ability to think about what you say before you let the words out, the ability to hold back the urge to cry or lash out, the ability to look past yourself and register the suppressed signs of pain in your sibling--all of these are pretty much offline for the time being.

For Jiang Cheng, that manifests first as a frantic need to get back to his family; that takes priority, consumes him, in this state of panic and fear and the world crumbling around him, over anything and everything else. Later, that turns to anger because again he’s just not in a headspace to be able to process it further than that, to hold any of that back.

For Jiang Yanli, it manifests as sadness, as grief, as reaching out to her brothers and trying to hold them close, but also as a fear of confrontation, of doing anything that could make this worse. Where Jiang Cheng’s desperation is get to my family, hers is keep my family together.

Meanwhile Wei Wuxian defaults to his base state of There Must Be A Way Self-Sacrifice Can Solve This Problem. It’s... a heartbreaking kind of altruism, but in its way just as irrational and panic-driven as his siblings’ responses. This is what he does, so he throws himself into it without considering any other option, because he’s not in a place where he can. His desperation is that ingrained protect my family above myself.

(Also, he’s very much a ‘throw yourself into the task at hand in order to keep the trauma at bay’ kind of person, so this is basically his coping mechanism, just as anger is Jiang Cheng’s).

tl;dr: somewhere in there I had a point, and I think it’s basically ‘everyone in this sequence is hurting so much, and they’re all so raw and exposed, and falling into these deeply engrained patterns that hurt all of them and help none of them and yet it’s all they can do, because this is what their world has made them’.

#i just! have a lot! of thoughts and feelings! about this sequence!#how these characters hurt themselves and even those around them #not out of malice or intent but because they're trying #to do what the world demands of them #and so are they to blame?#or is that world?#that demands so much of its children #and repays them in blood and nightmare #the untamed #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #asks #anon

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