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kibleedibleedoo · 3 years

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Hero of your own fate

Chapter 10

A.N. - I got really into the lore while writing this chapter so I thought it would be interesting to talk about it with the dwarves. Plus how else am I supposed to tell Fili and Kili about guns

Word count - 2,223

Pairings - Thorin x Fem!Reader

Warnings - war, death, mental illness, self doubt

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-Your POV-

It was a few hours before you decided to return to the company. Thorin made good on his word everyone was dressed in their proper attire and the troublesome two were on their best behaviour. He gave a gentle nod in your direction causing a fresh wave of red to flush your face. Kili looked like he was going to say something but was rather aggressively elbowed by Dwalin before a single syllable left his lips.

“Did ye find anything good to read in the library lass?” Dwalin asked as you took your place on your bedroll. He was looking for a way to keep conversation away from what happened earlier.

“Not really most of it was in Sindarin which isn't really helpful when you’ve only heard a few words spoken.” You shrugged.

“Typical elves.” Fili grumbled causing the rest of the dwarves to mumble in agreement. Bifur took this moment to pass you a plate of something.

“Ablâg” he gestured moving his hand to his mouth. The plate was full of a collection of meats and cheeses and some bread. The food had gone quite cold but you didn’t mind. Apparently, the elves had delivered food to the company instead of summoning you all to dine together while you were away.

“Thank you, Bifur.” You smiled at the friendly dwarf. “Lord Elrond was kind enough to teach me some of his history when he found me staring at one of the murals. It just seems so amazing that you have confirmation of your creators and nobody thought to tell me Gandalf is a lesser-god.” At this the company looked at you confused. Every single one of them. It felt like their eyes were staring into your soul. “Did you lot not know he was a Miar?” It took a few moments before anyone responded.

“Aye. That we knew” Gloin finally chimed in. “What do you mean confirmation of our creators?”

“Lord Elrond said that Eru created elves and men, one awakening with the stars and the other when the sun was created. He also said that Dwarves were created by Aulë and you slumbered deep underground until after the Elves awakened during the age of stars. He also said that these Valar live in the Undying Lands and something about the elves being able to cross the sea to reach Valinor.” Not a single member of the company had looked in another direction since you began speaking. Even Bombur had stopped chewing whatever he was eating at that particular moment. Anxiety hit you like a ton of bricks. You had started so confident but now it felt like you were talking nonsense. “I think that’s what he said.”

“Lass did your parents not teach you this when you were little?” Bofur spluttered out, tack never had been his strong suit. Gandalf took this moment to finally interrupt the conversation with his arrival. He had an uncanny knack for interrupting conversations precisely when they needed him.

“It would have been hard for them to seeing as they wouldn’t know it themselves” Gandalf cut in. “Our y/n is not of our world master dwarf. She comes from a land very different from this one. A world untouched by Eru himself. A world without great evil but full of selfishness and greed.”

“But who made you and your kin?” Fili directed the questioning back to you. There was a hum of agreement from all of the dwarves except Thorin, who once again refused to look in your direction. You glanced at Gandalf for more help but the wizard had already made himself comfy puffing away on his pipe.

“Well, we don’t really know.” Everyone seemed thoroughly dissatisfied by that answer. “We have theories and dozens of religions but mainly people decide based on the information available, what aligns with their moral compass as well as how and where they were raised. It varies from person to person especially in the modern era where science tells us more about our past than ever before and people are less likely to be persecuted for their beliefs.” That answer seemed to satisfy the majority of the company.

A select few wanted to know more. Fili, Kili, Ori, Bofur, Oin, and Bilbo all got up to sit near you to find out more. Ori brought his book and wanted to write everything you said down, it almost seemed like a fantasy story to him. Oin wanted to know everything about the scientific advancements especially in terms of medical treatments. Not that you were very knowledgeable in that subject but you knew some basic first aid which you told him. He was very happy to hear that and quickly recruited you to be an apprentice healer for the company. To you that meant so much, you were no longer useless, you had a purpose on this quest. Maybe Thorin wouldn’t consider you a burden anymore. The others mainly enjoyed hearing stories from another world especially the technology.

-Thorin’s POV-

The moment Gandalf had said “untouched by Eru” Thorin’s heart dropped. If your existence was not influenced by one of the creators then there is no way Mahal could have made you Thorin’s one. It would be impossible. Yet Thorin couldn’t deny the way he felt about you. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before. I was like there was a physical tie attaching the two of you. He dreamt of your beauty. He wanted to be close by at all times, to share in your happiness. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe and healthy. He wanted you to want him. No, it wasn’t a want it was a need for those things. He felt the same way that Dis had mentioned feeling when she first met Vili. He was so sure that you were his one that he would have bet all of the gold in Erebor on it and yet here he was.

Every mention of your world stung. He hoped the quiet chatter would drown it out, take his mind away from the mysterious girl who had enchanted him. Yet his nephew seemed insistent on learning more about the weaponry from your world and the things you called guns. In different circumstances he would have loved to learn about ways to better protect his people yet now he just couldn’t stomach it.

With everyone occupied Thorin to the opportunity to leave. He waited until he was out of earshot before he began cursing Mahal. To Thorin it seemed he had been cursed with only misery and pain in his life. It had been far too many years since to joy of his youth, with his whole family around him. Before the dragon sickness tormented his grandfather, before Smaug killed his mother and took Erebor, before the battle of Azanulbizar took three generations of his family from him. He had no time to grieve, he had to look after his young sister and lead his people to prosperity. To work hard, to provide, to make a better life. Now that his end goal seemed within reach it seemed Mahal had taken it upon himself to land another blow by making his one a woman who can’t possibly have him as her one. To him it seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Thorin was unsure how long he had been aimlessly wandering lost in his thoughts. It was now late into the evening with the stars high in the sky. From a small flicker of light, a woody smell, and the sound of cheer he could tell the company had decided to have a late supper though where they got the food he did not know. One of them must have found the location of the kitchen. Likely the hobbit, even Thorin had to admit Bilbo could find food even in a mine, he could give Bombur a run for his money.

He settled on a balcony overlooking Rivendell just around the corner from the rather jovial group. Thorin wasn’t sure if he could face you just yet, the fact that you were nervous around him seemed to be a blessing in disguise. It wasn’t long before his peace and quiet was disturbed, Bilbo had stumbled upon his place of solitude. Though it seemed the hobbit hadn't realised that just yet.

“The throne of Erebor is Thorin’s birth right. What is it you fear?” Thorin knew the elf doubted them the moment he learned of the quest. Gandalf should know it would be no use reasoning with an elf. They sought to stop the dwarves becoming great hubs of power at every opportunity they could. Erebor was the mightiest kingdom of them all and it would be again if the quest was successful. Thorin took a step forward focussing on the conversation, causing Bilbo to become aware of his presence.

“Have you forgotten? A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?” It seemed that Mahal hadn’t wounded Thorin enough that night. Thorin shared those doubts though he would never tell a soul, yet to hear another voice those concerns cut deeper than any physical wound. After all he had done, after everything he achieved for his people his reputation revolved around his grandfather's illness.

“Oi people can hear you!” Came a shout from the balcony below. “If you’re going to talk about people at least go where they can’t hear you.”

-Your POV-

You had been looking for Bilbo to offer him another plate before Bombur took it. You found him quickly and noticed Thorin was with him. Both looking out over the city of waterfalls. It wasn’t until you followed their gaze did you notice Lord Elrond and Gandalf talking below. The moment you heard the wizard mention Thorin the noise of the company seemed to fall away, you were shocked to hear of Elrond’s doubts. Especially since they were being expressed out in the open. Your opinion on the pair immediately flipped and in that moment you felt you understood why the dwarves hated elves so much.

Your mouth worked faster than your brain. Before you knew it you had shouted at your host but in your anger you felt no shame. The pair hurried off together into a room out of sight. When your attention returned to Bilbo and Thorin you saw only a shocked hobbit and a heartbroken dwarf at the top of the stairs.

“They had no right to say those things about you Thorin” This was the first moment you had seen a hint of weakness in the dwarf king. They had clearly struck a nerve.

“They had every right.” There was no anger in his voice only sadness. You felt his pain and it cut deep. You wanted to hold him to let him voice his troubles. To help lighten the weight of all that he carries yet you held back. Why would a king trust you, you knew he doubted you and your motives but you could not bring yourself to leave him like this. Slowly you made your way up to the balcony and took your place besides Bilbo leaning against the railings.

“I see there’s a stigma around mental illness here too. I wish people would realise that its nothing to be ashamed of.” You sighed likely realising what you were saying was falling on deaf ears. “I don’t know what happened to your grandfather or father but you can't fear what hasn’t happened yet. If you do then the anxiety spirals out of control until you can no longer get out of bed.” You didn’t dare look at either of them. What had started with you trying to be reassuring had begun turning into a type of therapy for you. “It ran in my family too and I know how much it sucks knowing that all the sadness and worry is coded into your genes but its better knowing and being prepared. I can guarantee every single one of those dwarves down there will help and support you if or when you need them”

You finally decided to turn to Thorin and look him straight in the eyes. It was a bold move and you knew it but you needed to covey how important this was to you. His gaze lacked his usual intensiveness but he did not look away. “You cannot let fear hold you back.” He seemed to be grateful for those words. He gave you a small nod and sighed.

“Then we must leave before they can stop us!” It was only then you were able to look away. The strong self-assured dwarf king was back. “Bilbo take a few dwarves and head to the kitchens. Take foods that will last us on the road. I do not know when we will get an opportunity like this again. Be quick but stay out of view. Y/n start gathering your things. It might be worth changing back into your travelling clothes.” He motioned to the elven dress you were still wearing. Your clothes should be dry enough now that changing wouldn’t be an issue. “We must make haste if we are to be gone by the time the sun rises.”

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Ablâg - food

#king thorin #thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin fic #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #slight angst #readerxthorin #fem!reader #thorin x y/n #thorin x you #slow burn #hobbit #the hobbit #king under the mountain #Kilby writes

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leporellian · 4 years

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warrior cats rewrite part 2: fire and ice

more of This apparently! this is a continuation of this post so go over there to get the gist of this.

with the last book i was focused on establishing characters and dynamics within thunderclan, so this one is more focused on establishing the other groups outside of thunderclan (windclan, riverclan, the rogues in shadowclan, kittypets) and the exact mechanics of the world. also assume that anything i mention little of stays the same- bluestar, yellowfang, etc

-so like in the original we open on a prologue of windclan. the prologue is from the perspective of a young apprentice, gorsepaw. he and his brother mudpaw are trying to comprehend What Is Going On while morningflower soothes them and tallstar attempts to lead. they are helped by members of the blood brothers (the city cats who try to keep things safe in the city and suburbs). little is mentioned about the blood brothers but it is mentioned they’re not as good as they once were and could use a fresh young leader to give them real direction again

- anyway back in thunderclan we hear about darkstripe’s pov of redtail’s death

- redtail was a risk taker and very fiery and passionate- much like fireheart himself. bluestar chose him because his eagerness balanced out her pragmatism. however, redtail’s impulsivity and tendency to be a bleeding-heart became more and more loathed by others- especially the elders and tigerclaw.

- tigerclaw values conservatism, duty, and tradition. he’s a man of stability. and he realized that redtail’s ways could get thunderclan in trouble- he had a point, of course, but he took it too far.

- the entire sunningrocks battle was suggested by thistleclaw, tigerclaw’s father, and quickly approved by the elders (elders are often the ones who start battles), although none of the other elders knew of the plan. thistleclaw also suggested the time- in the dark of night, where no cat could see who was fighting who too well. thistleclaw was helping tigerclaw the entire time.

- redtail was killed by not oakheart, although it was often claimed they had killed each other (and who had no voice to speak up- oakheart was dead and was an impulsive type like redtail who would have totally killed him in defense if they had fought), but tigerclaw, who figured it was the only way to become deputy and lead thunderclan with the stability he had desired it to be led with.

- fireheart shares his findings with the others, in secret. raven, gray, and cinderpaw all believe him, although it takes them a while to come to terms with the idea of tigerclaw being a murderer, but sand and long are unconvinced- neither wants to even entertain the idea their father was murdered.

- anyway thunderclan sends a few cats to retrieve windclan now that Brokenstar Is Gone(TM), gray and fire being two of them. windclan doesn’t like how little thunderclan seems to care about them because none of the high ranking warriors were sent- especially the angry mudpaw, who is still rather traumatized from being chased down with the rest of windclan by shadowclan. meanwhile, fireheart meets onewhisker and they become fast friends. onewhisker is kind of a Cool Older Brother type but he’s also sycophantic and a little bit of a coward.

- meanwhile there’s barkface, the quiet medicine cat of windclan. on the way back starclan sends him an omen: the moon will bring unnecessary death on its back.

- on their way back they find riverclan dicking around on windclan territory and so there’s a Fight- right by the gorge. it plays out like in canon and whiteclaw dies, fire figures ‘oh that’s the death’ and moves on

- once they get back a few days pass and then The Gang Become Mentors to lionheart and frostfur’s litter: brackenkit, thornkit, brightkit, and swiftkit. (cinder meanwhile was goldenflower’s kid.) fire gets bracken, gray gets thorn, sand gets bright, and long gets swift

- while this goes down, gray falls in love with silverstream like he does in canon- further propelled by his own half-clan heritage and desire to know outsiders beyond thunderclan. fire spies on him as he does in canon, etc etc. also it’s here that fire sees princess, and he recognizes her immediately.

- also thorn doesn’t like that graystripe isn’t really paying attention to him, which makes him kind of a try-hard prick that Just Wants To Be Noticed. Patrol Guy: Origins

- meanwhile tigerclaw keeps asking bluestar to see some unusual activity at the thunderpath. he looks worried about it.

- this comes to a head when tigerclaw rushes into camp with a few other thunderclan warriors. “there was a rogue attack at the thunderpath!” everyone follows him and finds two cats being carried out, both unconscious- darkstripe and cinderpaw. cinder’s leg has been shredded by a car (the rogues pushed her out in front of one) and darkstripe’s face is clawed up to hell and back.

- fireheart immediately Suspects Shit because this is tigerclaw. nobody else does except for ravenpaw, who notes that while cinderpaw’s injury is plausible, whoever clawed darkstripe did it in a very deliberate manner and not in defense as usually is done in the midst of dispute. fire figures out that tiger probably did the same trick he did with redtail, but targeting darkstripe instead.

- (”why are you relying so hard on mystery here?” mystery is really good for setting up worldbuilding, which is the main intent of the first three books.)

- meanwhile, cinderpaw is told that even though she can be a warrior, with the loss of her leg working properly she will likely need extra time and dedication to become one, and that it won’t be an easy road. cinder however refuses to give up, even though she’s initially left shaken and hopeless

- fireheart goes to see princess, who’s much more of a homebody than he is and comfortable in her life. however, she’s so relaxed because she doesn’t leave her home into the outside kittypet world, and is concerned about smudge and her mate- who both leave and get in fights with other cats pretty often. did you ever find smudge? she asks. what do you mean? replies fireheart. oh, this moon he decided to come with you, into the forest. i haven’t seen him since...

- anyway since princess doesn’t want her first child to enter the chaotic disputes of Kittypet Borders (and the other calamities of having little established government) she hands fireheart cloudkit

- like in canon nobody initially likes cloudkit but brindleface takes him in. their main worry is that he’s a white cat with blue eyes, which could mean that he’s deaf- not that this would hurt thunderclan, but that this could leave cloudkit to have a harder time being a warrior. cinderpaw however makes the connection and tells everyone that she wants to mentor cloudkit as soon as he becomes an apprentice.

- fireheart asks darkstripe to tell him more about tigerclaw killing redtail, hoping to get the details he needs to properly accuse him. but darkstripe is... different, this time. what do you mean!?! he screeches. tigerclaw is a loyal thunderclan warrior! you would never accuse lionheart or spottedleaf of this. how dare you even think-

- fireheart realizes that barkface’s ‘the moon will bring unnecessary death on its back’ omen was not referring to only whiteclaw, but also, perhaps, darkstripe in a way. whatever tigerclaw did to darkstripe, whatever he told him, it changed the tabby tom forever. as fireheart continues to think about the omen, his mind flickers to smudge for a moment, and then it returns to thunderclan.

- the gathering goes down like it does in canon. thunderclan slowly realizes that the rogues nightstar mentions are the same ones that tigerclaw had to fight at the border. ohhh shittt, they collectively go

- they get back to see rogues everywhere in thunderclan camp. the usually-bellicose thistleclaw isn’t fighting them, and darkstripe is half-hearting it. those who are There however are doing an okay job of fending them off, and their asses are collectively kicked when the ThunderClan Gang gets to them. they also manage to capture brokenstar after yellowfang blinds him (and fire hears that she was his mother- honestly i’m not changing a lot abt yellowfang)

- in the midst of this, fireheart accidentally kills clawface. he’s wracked with horror at it, and wonders if this is how graystripe felt when he killed whiteclaw.

- anyway there’s like 2 days of peace and then mudpaw rushes into gathering like ‘HOLY SHIT GUYS WE ARE BEING FUCKING ATTACKED BY THOSE SHADOWCLAN RIVERCLAN MFS’ and everyone is like ‘god DAMMIT we JUST PUT you guys back there’ and they all go in, ally with windclan, and have a Big Ass Fight like in canon. we get a good idea of everyone’s loyalties to who- graystripe is only fighting shadowclan, darkstripe only attacks whoever is around tigerclaw, sandstorm and longtail tagteam fight against river and shadow, onewhisker is just running around doing nothing but Look Cool,

- barkface dies in the battle, leaving windclan to wonder if he had predicted his own death in the omen from about a moon before. fireheart doesn’t have the heart to tell them that it meant much more than they could know. spottedleaf joins windclan in barkface’s stead as he left behind no apprentice. ‘wait you can just Leave Clans like that?’ says graystripe. he is Thinkin

- the book’s end is uncertain as fireheart is still reeling from clawface’s death and the big battle between all the clans. he wonders if this is how the rest of his life will be- and then, as he falls asleep, he gets a nightmarish vision of hell and heaven, life and death, and an odd peace afterwards, all narrated by a voice he swears he knows but not from where. it almost becomes... oddly soothing, like a long-forgotten childhood memory.

- lion and tiger will meet in battle, and fire alone will herald it. there will be three, kin of his kin, and they will hold the power of starlight in their paws; yet peace will only arrive on the gentle wings of the fourth. out of the darkness of blood-spilling-blood will come a new dawn, and the four oaks will live beyond the memories of its memories. nothing is as it was, yet this is how it always has been, and this is how it always will be...

#warrior cats #warrior cats rewrite #rambles

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fairymadnessyeah · 4 years

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A Poisoned Heart

Shigadabi week day 6

AO3 Link

Summary: Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, lived a young, kind prince and a young, powerful mage. This is their story...

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Deadly / Magic / Distance

"This way, guys!" Midoriya guided them through the dense swamp.

If Shouto was honest, he hated this place. He preferred forests or open fields than the humid and smelly swamps. But his friends were in danger, and he would do anything for his friends.

A few months ago, their group and Bakugou's had separated. Shouto along with Uraraka, Midoriya, Iida and Tsukuyomi headed north while Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari and Ashido went west. The two groups had different objectives and so their paths separated. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence though, and it wasn't like they had no way to contact each other, which had lead them here.

Two days ago, Sero contacted them and told them Kirishima had gotten hurt by hunters. They were in the middle of nowhere, but they had luckily found a mage who agreed to heal him. Not ones who turn their back on their friends, the group forgot about their quest and went to their friend's aid. If somebody had told him that he, Prince Shouto of the Fire kingdom, second heir to the throne, would find himself travelling to a swamp, he would have thought they were unhinged. But here he was, doing, exactly, that. Accompanied by a young blade master, a witch apprentice, a knight in training and his personal mage on a journey to make sure his dragon friend wasn't in danger. Who would have guessed that the quest to help his brother would leave him to here?

"I see something!" Uraraka yells, pointing towards a line of smoke in the air ahead of them.

They followed it, cutting through trees and greens and stepping on slippery muddy terrain. They knew they were in the right path when the party heard the loud screams of a barbarian they knew. The arriving group soon came to a clearing where a small cottage was situated and outside of it, Bakugou and his companions were there. Once they saw him, they all ran to greet them in their loud and excitable nature. Kirishima didn't though, the bandages over his abdomen stopping him, and neither did Bakugou, the Barbarian King deciding to stay by his dragon's side.

"I can't believe you guy came all the way over here!" Kirishima says as they all gather around him.

"Kirishima! You are one of our friends, of course we would come to your aid!" Iida tells him, moving his arms in a chopping manner and making a clanking sound with his armour.

"So, who did you find to help you?" Midoriya asks, and they hear footsteps and movement in the cottage. The door opens, revealing a skinny man with platinum hair in a dirty hooded robe.

Suddenly, a blade is drawn as mismatch eyes widen in surprise. Before it can strike though, it's path is blocked by another sword. Todoroki and Bakugou faced-off against each other, blade against blade, as the rest of the group stared in surprise at the scene. Todoroki was not someone who attacked without a reason or provocation. Maybe the Barbarian would, but not the prince. The roles had been reversed, and nobody knew what to do.

"What the Fuck, Icy-Hot!? What do you think your doing!?" Bakugou demands an answer.

"Step aside Bakugou," is the only thing he gets. "You can't trust this man," he glares at the man who the blonde was protecting.

"Is nice to you see you too, Shouto..." the mage with crimson eyes says. His voice soft and rough, barely a whisper.

"Do not call me that! To you, it's Your Highness," the royal says making his companions gasp softly. Never before had they heard their friend demand someone referred to him by his title.

The two warriors are slowly separated, but none of the drops their stand. Ready to pounce at any minute, Todoroki's eye don't leave the hermit mage. Bakugou steps between them as a warning. He knows he should be siding with his friend the bastard, but he can't. Not only is it out of character, but also the swamp mage saved Kirishima's life. He owes him enough to protect him from the weird-acting prince.

"Todoroki, this isn't like you," the greenette tells him, trying to make him lower his sword. "He hasn't done anything,"

"But he has," Todoroki says. "It's because of him that my brother is only a shell of the person he used to be,"

"I see," the mage says, the small light that his eyes held gone. "I can give you an antidote for him, but you need to know the consequences it might cause,"

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Everybody had the ability to practice magic. Some more than others. But the only way for one to practice the art legally, you needed to acquire a certificate seal. And the only way to get one was by being taught by a certificated master.

Shimura Tenko, after an accident with his magic, got accepted into The Draiocht, one of the most famous institutes of magic. He aced all of his classes, and once he graduated, he was given the most prestigious of positions a mage his age could achieve. The Personal Mage of a Crown Prince. And not any prince but the heir to the throne of the Fire Kindom, Todoroki Touya.

Kings and Queen, as well as any other royal or council member who mattered, had a personal mage by their side. They acted as bodyguards, advisors and magic experts. He was thrilled to be in such a position. He had become a powerful mage, with the ability to tame the dark arts, and he even had a new name to prove it. From rags to riches, Shigaraki Tomura went from the son of a simple merchant to one of the wizards in the palace of Caith Capital in the wealthiest kingdom. And then he met the prince.

Now, he didn't have anything against royals, but he knew what to expect with most of them, boring lessons, boring high-class parties, boring meetings. He had the plan of practising his magic more and even mastering the subjects his alma matter deemed forbidden when he was a student. But the Todoroki brat he was given to, however, didn't care for any of that. The elder prince spent his days and night avoiding his lessons his father tried to force him into. He would hide in the gardens or the castle's secret tunnels, waste his time in the stables or map-room and fool around with his siblings. Tomura, for the most part, didn't care if the bratty royal wanted to be an irresponsible heir. What bothered him was that as his personal mage, he was dragged to all the problems the prince got into.

"Why are we here again?" the mage asked one day as he was, once again, taken to the map-room of the royal library by the prince.

"I just need to find something before the trip tomorrow," the redhead says as he rummages through cabinets and shelves.

"Can't you be a normal prince for once?" he moans as he watches the royal take out a rolled map. "You are supposed to go on this trip to learn about the old kings of history! Don't you want to be a good king?" he crosses his arms.

"And you think that's the way to learn how to be a king?" Touya rolls his eyes and takes one of the cylindrical cases. "They only teach about dead guys in boring books or documents. That's not what a king is supposed to be," he places the map he took in the case and opens a trap door. "A king should be a servant to his people, and I doubt the guys they tell me about, knew anything about their people,"

That interaction was the beginning of all. The day he learned there was more to the prince than a careless and bratty attitude. The next day, as planned, King Enji took his son to learn about the old kings of the kingdom. They were accompanied by a knight of the palace, his squire and the mages of each royal. On the second day of the trip, the prince tried to slip away from the camp. Tomura was woken by a rustling sound inside his tent, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the prince was packing a bag.

"Where are you going?" he interrupts the guy, tapping his foot annoyed.

"Hunting for food... ?" Tomura sighs frustrated.

"You can't just leave in the middle of the night," he whispers loudly not to wake anybody else. "They're going to think you were killed, or kidnapped, and they are going blame me for it! I'm the one keeping an eye on you-"

"Listen," he interrupts him. "If you want to stay here, fine, but I'm not going to spend another day with my old man. Besides, I'm going to see you all in that 'grand library place'. I'm just going through a more... fun route," the teen says and continues packing.

Tomura, meanwhile, wants to rip out his hair in frustration. He opts instead to scream into his pillow. Once he is done with that, he starts packing too. The teen stares at him for a few seconds before Tomura speaks again. "My job is to keep an eye on you, which means I need to stay close to you, unfortunately," his answer makes the prince smile though, and the two leave camp undetected.

They ended going through a breach in between two mountains that was full of exotic birds. Tomura, when he saw the path the prince showed, though he wanted to hunt some of the fascinating animals and keep them as trophies. But he didn't. The heir to the throne quietly watched amazed and didn't bother the beast or their nest. He took a few feathers, but only those he found on the floor. The two somehow made it to the town before the king and his party, and once there they had fun. They visited the market, played in the woods and spent their night on a local tavern. It was the most fun Tomura had had in a long time.

The king wasn't happy, of course. But the mage believed he would let it go. The prince lived for getting into trouble, and his father's rage seemed to be rewarding enough. He learnt how wrong he was when Touya revealed the truth to him. Ever since he started working for the palace, Tomura healed the fire prince of multiples wounds. None of them were fatal, but he did get hurt on a daily basis. He always believed it was due to his recklessness, but one night as he applied a healing salve on the princes' bruises, Touya started talking. The mix had a dizzying effect on people, so he doubted he would have said anything if it wasn't for its side effect.

"When I become king, things are going to change... My mom is going to be happier... and my brother and my sister and my brother... we are all finally going to be free of him... he won't hurt us anymore..."

That trip had been eye-opening for him.

He understood that the prince was nothing more than a bird in a golden cage. He longed for freedom and happiness. And if he wanted to, he could get it. If he decided to, he could escape the castle walls and run free. Yet, he didn't. For he knew that if he got away, he would be the only one to do so. His mother and his sibling would have to stay behind with his father. Touya tried to make the hell they were living in bearable. He goofed around with his sibling, he pasted a smile on his face for everyone to see, but longed for something he couldn't have. Something, he would have to sacrifice his family to achieve.

Instead he waited, he remained in the dark and took the hard hits for his family. So that when he becomes king, his family could finally live in peace.

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As the years went by, Tomura stayed by Touya's side.

After their first successful trip on their own, King Enji allowed Touya to quest. He would be sent on the kingdom's behalf and only to those the king approved. And as his mage, he accompanied the prince in all of his adventures. The two had become friends over time. Touya still drove him up the wall with his messes, and he had had to save his behind more times than he could count. Touya took him to see the world and treated him like a person. All of the people he met in his life always expected something of him. His biological father expected a perfect son, his professors and mentors expected greatness and power and the king expected loyalty and servitude. And as a poor bastard looking for approval, he tried to meet those expectations. But with Touya, all of that was gone. He didn't have to be Shigaraki Tomura, the royal mage or the best alumni. He only needed to be himself. That was more than enough for the redhead.

"Is everything okay?" he asked as they set up camp near the road. The two were coming back from a successful quest and were in no hurry to return to the palace. "You've been really quiet lately," Touya hums.

"Have you noticed that lately we have only been sent to places with royal and noblewoman of marriageable age?" he says, looking at nothing.

He had. They were always offered a room to stay in by the people in charge of the places they went. They didn't accept all of them, but whenever they found themselves in one, Touya would be doted on by the female heirs of the family. It probably didn't help that the redhead was naturally charming and loved to flirt. Tomura ignored the way his chest tugged in pain whenever he caught him.

"My birthday is coming, and father is going to throw a ball to celebrate it," he says after a while.

"But he does so every year. It doesn't mean he is looking to betroth you," Tomura tries to look at the positive side as the pain in his chest festers.

"I saw the guest list," Touya says defeated. "All bachelorettes of the region will receive an invitation," he sighs and leaves to hunt something for them to eat. When he returns, they don't talk about it, and Tomura suggests they take a longer route back to the castle.

When Touya's birthday comes, just like the eldest prince predicted, princesses in uncomfortable and flashy ballgowns infest the ballroom. The royal family greets and welcomes the guest, and then Touya is presented once everybody arrives. Beside him, as he always had been, is Tomura. The presentation is over quickly, and once they join the guest, Touya is introduced to all the females interested in him. Tomura can see how much the prince wants to run to the nearest exit. He eyes them as a dried man searches for a drop of water.

The ball is boring. Tomura would rather lock himself in his quarters before attending. But as part of the royal court, he has to. He usually spends the night talking to the other mages who show up (which aren't a lot), eating the delicious food made for the occasion or taking care of the youngest prince. The prince Todoroki Shouto was still mageless at his young age, and Tomura liked him enough to keep an eye on him during the more formal events while Touya played Proud Heir. He was with the youngest prince when King Enji called him.

"Have you seen my son, mage?" he demands, belittling him like he always did. "The dance is about to begin, and he has suitors to please,"

'No wonder he left...' Tomura thinks, repressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"I believe he is freshening up, your Majesty. Should I fetch him?" he actually hadn't seen him for a while, but he knew him enough to guess where he was.

"You seem close to my son," the older man grumbles and glares at him.

"I spend a lot of time with him. It's my job, sir," he doesn't understand where the inquiry is coming from.

"Good. Remember that. You are only a mage, and Touya is a prince. Nothing more. Now bring him here." he bows and leaves. He had learned long ago not to talk back to the king.

Just as he expected, he found Touya hiding in the castle gardens. There was a small area hidden between the green bushes and trees. The rest of the family often spent time together there, without Enji breathing down their backs. With a giant tree they could climb on, a swing set, a fountain and flowers, it was the perfect place to get away from your problems. The prince was sitting in one of the swings when he got there.

"I figured you'd be here," he says and sits in the swing next to him. "It's a lovely night, don't you think? As lovely as the women making a line to meet you..."

"Psshh, you don't mean that," the guy grumbles. "Have you ever been in love, Tomura?" he asks after a pause.

"Wha- what?"

"Have you ever fallen in love with somebody?" he askes again, something in his eyes glimmering through the sadness.

"I- I guess not," he looks aways as his cheek turn hot. "I think I would notice if I did,"

"My mother told me she once loved my father," Touya tells him. "That they met in a ball like this and a year later they were getting married. Do you think it's weird that, even if I know it didn't work out for them, I still want to marry for love?"

"Do you love someone?" Tomura doesn't know why, but that hurts.

"I think I do, but I have to dance with everybody and not them," Touya admits.

"I thought you liked dancing," he knew he did. He saw him smiling with his sister and mother whenever they practised.

"Being forced to kind of sucks the joy out of it," he grumbles, and an idea struck his head. "Would you dance with me?" he turns to him, his spirits lifted.

"Huh!?"

"I know it sounds stupid, but..." he gets up from the swing and offers him a hand. "I want to enjoy some part of tonight," Tomura stares between his pleading eyes and the extended hand and, before he can think about it, he accepts.

Touya pulls him to his feet, and he suddenly founds himself in the prince's arm. Their formal wear is tight and uncomfortable, and he feels like he is in a costume when he wears it. As if he is pretending to be someone he is not. But while he is in Touya's embrace, body against body and an arm holding on to his waist, he feel alive. He feels like he belongs there, that he fits. He feels his heart jumping in his chest, beating against his skin, trying to get out. The two sway with the silence. Their music composed of crickets, the flowing water, their silents steps on the grass. Touya stares into his eyes as he rises over him. He gets lost in those blue eyes, shining like sapphires and penetrating his soul. He feels cold shivers run up his back and he knows his cheeks are turning pink.

He is overwhelmed. His pounding heart is deafening him, his head is spinning, and his palms are sweaty under his gloves. He feels as if he is about to pass out or throw up or both. Swallowing down his nerves, he tries to centre himself. He is a powerful mage. He can't get nervous over some moonlight silent slow dance.

Suddenly, the hood over his head falls down.

"You should wear your hood down more often," Touya whispers as he caresses his face gently.

"TOUYA!" a scream cuts through the moment, like a cold blade.

"That's- That's Natsuo," Touya says as they slowly separate. "We- we better get going," Cold filtering through Tomura's bones as he puts his hood back up.

The night goes on as planned by the king. Once Touya is back, he dances with all the ladies that Enji has deemed worth his time, he chats with the monarchs from far away places and Tomura watches as he tries to calm his heart. The royals gush over the prince, complimenting his manners and praising Enji for raising such a great heir. The princesses gossip and fawn over his charm. And soon enough the guests leave and the ballroom is cleaned by the servants.

But as he lays in his bed awake at night, Tomura is shaken. He keeps going back to that moment. With Touya under the moonlight, dancing and being safe in his arms. He had never felt so held, so cared for, so... loved.

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Everything went to hell a few months later.

Touya and Tomura went on another quest to a neighbouring city. It was supposed to be an easy one, just deal with some pest who was eating some of the crops. They expected to be back by nighttime with how simple it was, which ended happening, but not for the reasons they anticipated.

The pests, which were described as small lizards by the townspeople, were actually wyvern hatchlings. And when the prince and his mage started attacking the baby wyverns, the mother retaliated. Even if at the end they defeated her, they had not been ready for a fight like this. Touya had ended badly injured and Tomura, who was fighting against falling unconscious, brought him over to the palace in a rush. Natsuo and Shouto had been waiting for them luckily. The moment Tomura saw them, that he realized his the prince would be okay, he fell down.

When he woke up, Uwabami and Kido, Fuyumi and Natsuo's mages, were at his side healing him. It took him a few minutes to get over the drowsy feeling the restorative salves gave. But once his mind was capable of coherent thoughts, the first thing his head conjured was Touya. It wasn't unusual that the heir haunted his brain, but the last time he saw him, the man was at the brink of death.

He tried to get out of bed quickly. But his fellow mages stopped him, Trying to prevent him further hurting himself and explaining what happened since he arrived. He wasn't paying much attention to them, as he was too busy trying to get out of there, but he got enough pieces. Touya was out of danger but still unconscious, and he was being treated by the king's mage, Ending. It helped calm him a little knowing that he would make it, but he still tried to go with him. His fellow mages had to tie him to the bed to stop him from moving so that he could heal properly. Though, it was kind of pointless to do that since he could do undo the binding with his magic.

He knew they were right. He knew he had to rest so that the magic could heal him. But Touya needed him. He needed him, and he wasn't there. He had to be there. He should be the one in pain, no Touya. They fought like that for a few minutes until the king's mage arrived. Ending told him he could see him, if he stayed one more day resting. If not, he would be quarantined in his room until the king decided he could go back to Touya. Tomura didn't let anybody boss him around or give him ultimatums. But with the threat of Touya in the line, he obeyed.

The next morning, before even the servants entered his room, Tomura was by Touya's side. He didn't leave until his the prince woke up. He missed all meals and only talked with the ones who also came to visit the heir. Queen Rei and Princess Fuyumi were the ones who stopped by the most, along with their mages. The two brought him food and assured him this hadn't been his fault. Prince Natsuo came a few times, when he found the time between his lessons. Prince Shouto stopped by once. King Enji had begun his training, and the kid could hardly move without his father barking out orders. The king neglected the whole matter and not once dropped by.

After a week of sitting by his bed, watching and changing bandages, the redhead woke up. He first heard some painful moaning, and then those two blue eyes that tormented his dreams opened up. And the first thing the heir to the throne told his mage when he woke up after almost dying was a small and weak: "Hey..."

"You, IDIOT!" Tomura did not take that response too kindly. He had been reeling in his emotions for the last couple of days. "Why don't you ever listen to me!? I told you to run! I told you to escape! That it was too much for us! And yet you ignore me and head straight into danger! You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you understand that!?" the mage snaps at the man.

"Calm down. Everything worked out-"

"Doesn't it register in your thick skull that you could've died!? That you almost did!? Don't you understand you can't die, you dumbass!?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the heir and all that-"

"I could've lost you, Touya!" Tomura yells and the dam breaks. Tears fall freely out of his eyes, wetting his cheeks, as he hiccups and sobs uglily. "I a- a- almost lost- st- lost you! You ca- can- can't die! W- wha- what wi- will I d- do without you!"

Touya doesn't answer. He only pulls him closer and leans him his shoulder to cry. Tomura holds on to him tightly, as if he would disappear if he let go. Touya strokes his back lovingly with one hand and with the other grasps his silver hair as he wails out his worry. They stay there for what feels like hours, but it was only a few minutes. It wasn't enough for him, though. He could spend a lifetime in Touya's arms, and it still wouldn't be enough. When his sobs start to decrease, Touya takes his face with his hands and places their foreheads together.

"I'm not going anywhere, alright?" Touya reassures him.

He doesn't know who leans in first or who made the first move. But as they hold each other, their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It's everything Tomura could have hoped for and even better than he imagined. It's perfect. It's the best moment of his life. But the beautiful moment is shattered when Touya separates from him and grasps his chest in pain.

A second later, the prince is twisting in pain as black veins grow out of his heart and start to cover his body. Tomura is panicking, trying to heal him with his magic and not understanding what's wrong.

"I- I don't understand, why can't I heal you?" Tomura cries in hysteric as he sees his loved one suffer.

"Because you are the one causing the pain," a voice answers him as the door slams shut.

"What do you mean? What did you do to him?" He asks as King Enji glares at him from the doorway and slowly makes his way to the other side of the bed.

"I told you to remember your place, mage. You are nothing compared to us, just filthy scum we use for protection. Your love is poison, and it will slowly kill him as long as you stay close to him," the king tells him.

"No... no..." he starts backing away in shock and notices the black veins stop growing. "Why- why are you doing this?" he asks the older man.

"My lineage will be remembered as the greatest and most powerful there was. My kingdom will remain a symbol of strength for generations. And I will not let you or anybody get in between my plans," the royal glares. "Now leave, mage. Leave and never return, unless you rather watch your beloved prince die,"

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After his story, Shouto apologized, dropping his sword to the ground, and explained that his father told him the mage had cursed his brother and then ran. "Is the poison what changed him?" Shouto asks him. His brother, a man who once enjoyed his life and smiled, became an emotionless ghost when the mage left. His father had always said he saved Touya from the mage when he was attacking him, but the family didn't believe him. The only thing they were sure about was that whatever had happened, changed his elder brother.

He got married to Princess Moe Kamiji of the Volcano Islands, and a few months later he ascended to the throne. His crowning should have been a good thing for them, but it quickly turned sour. In his dead-like state, Touya was more susceptible to suggestions, and their father was controlling him like a puppet. He made Touya fund his campaign to gain more territory and accept a rotating co-ruling system. On winter, his father would dictate as king while Touya continued the attacks on the rest of the land. On summer, they changed again. He didn't have many memories of his brother from before he traded mages, he was really young when it happened. But in the little ones he had, he remembered his brother was happy. They would pull pranks on the squires, steal pastries from the kitchen and play in the secluded part of the garden. He remembers how his brother would tell him about his adventures with Shigaraki or the time he taught him about the secret passages of the castles.

"No, that's not what changed him," Shigaraki says. "Your brother wouldn't have let the poison stop him. He would have come looking for me and would have gotten hurt in the process. I- I couldn't let him get hurt... because of me..." the mage explains, his voice breaking down. Shouto, now that he had a clear head could see how crushed the mage looked. He had heavy bags under his eyes that had no hope or sparkle left, and his actions seemed to lack motive. He was wholly and utterly defeated and was just as broken inside as his brother. "Before I left, I made a potion for him to forgot all about me..."

"And that included his feelings," Shouto concludes. "But there has to be a way to help him. He is nothing more than a puppet for my father to use now," he pleads with the mage. The skinny hooded man sighs and goes back to his hut. He then comes out with a flask with purple content.

"This will restore his memory," he gives him the concoction. "but you have to promise me you'll stop him from coming near me. He will die if he does," the broken mage warns him.

"I promise,"

It took him a week to reach the castle. His friends had been thankfully alright with taking the small detour on their journey. Shouto had been very lucky to have founds friends like them. Friends that would lend a helping hand for when it mattered the most. His mother was the one who welcomed them since it was spring. On winter and autumn, she stays in her birth kingdom, where now Natsuo resides. Shouto can't blame her for leaving, since he did the same, the moment his father wasn't looking. The only one who stayed the entire year on the castle was Fuyumi, her husband and Queen Moe.

As his mother takes his friends to their quarters where they can stay, Shouto begins his plans. He takes two goblets from the kitchen and fills one with wine and the other with the concoction the mage gave him. His father is away right now, fighting against some small kingdom and spending all the gold they own. However, he is a problem for later.

The obstacle he has to get rid off first is Touya's mage, Hawks. As prince and heir, Touya couldn't be left mageless. Shigaraki's replacement was a graduate from the Hverv Magical School, born from the fire kingdom. (He did come with an apprentice though, Tsukuyomi, who later became Shouto's mage.) He was a good mage, but his loyalty laid with Enji. He wasn't a bad man, far from it actually. But if it didn't work, then he would tell their father, and they needed to keep him in the dark for a bit to take the old king away from the power he still possessed.

"I'll distract Hawks while you do it," Tsukuyomi tells him.

"Thank you, Tsukuyomi," he watches the bird-man walk away with his raven on his shoulder.

Shouto puts the two cups on a tray and heads to his brother's study. When he arrives, the man is signing documents. He doesn't even acknowledge he is there until Shouto slams the door close. "Hello brother, how was your journey?" the young king asks in a monotonous voice.

"Good, we came across something interesting in the swamps of sikker død," he tells him, placing the tray with the two cups on the desk. "A mage, a powerful one, he gifted my companions and I some wine," he offers the cup with the concoction to the full redhead. "Care for some?" Touya grabs the cup without taking his eyes off the document he is going through and gulps it down in one go. He then leaves it on the wood again and return to what he was doing. "Are you feeling okay?" Shouto asks. Shouldn't his brother start to feel something? Was the potion not working.

"No, I ... I guess I took it too fast..." his brother slurs as he starts clutching his head. "What... did you... give me?" he tries to stand up but stumbles, holding to the desk to keep steady. Shouto rushes to his side. His brother let out one scream of pain before he gasps and tears form in his eyes. He suddenly looks at him, his eyes clearer than ever. "You said- you said he was in the sikker død swamp?" he asks, his tone not emotionless anymore, but desperate and on the verge of breaking.

"I can't let you go there. I promised I'll keep you away from him, that'll keep you from dying," Shouto tells him.

"Then I'm sorry about this, Shou," and before the young prince can react, his brother grasps his arms tightly and pushes him with all his force against the table. The young king runs, slamming the wood doors behind him. The noisy struggle catches the attention of the mages close by and when he catches sight of bright red wings. "Hawks! I need you to take me to the sikker død swamps! Now!" he orders the mage, and dragging him down the hallways and disappearing through a room.

Shouto, along with his mage, is hot on his heels behind him. When the two reach the bedroom the two entered, the redhead and his mage are already in the air. They can see them flying on the back of Hawks falcon, Keigo. Tsukuyomi calls forward Dark Shadow and the small raven grows in size. They get on the now giant bird and keep on their pursue, leaving the castle behind. They don't catch up with the two older men until nightfall, and by then, Touya reached the small cottage.

The redhead doesn't even wait for the bird to land. He jumps to the muddy ground and sprints towards the door, calling for his love. Shouto follows him, but he is only by the doorway when he hears the heart-wreaking scream of brother.

"TOMURA!" he sees his brother is kneeling by the bed, next to the unmoving body of the mage. "Please, open your eyes, Tomura! Don't do this to me! Please!" his brother begs as he holds the body of the mage, trying to wake him. "I love you! I don't know what to do without you! Please! Don't leave me!" he kisses the mage's forehead before hiding his face on his neck and loudly sobbing and crying.

Shouto suddenly notices a small bottle with a label and a letter next to it on the table. The bottle is empty, and it says 'white laurels extract' . The message is addressed to Touya. Shouto takes it and moves closer to his brother. His brother is still crying on the mage's body, weeping his heart out over his lost love. He slowly touches his shoulder to catch his attention and offers him the letter. Tears stream down his elder brother's face as he turns to look at him. With a shaking hand, he grabs the piece of paper and starts reading. When he is done, the flow of his eyes doubles and his sobs harden. He places a tear-filled kiss on Tomura's hand and continues crying, grieving the death of his dear mage.

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To my prince,

I knew your brother wouldn't be able to stop you. Nobody could ever hold you back from getting what you wanted, not even me. It drove me insane sometimes. Your persistence knew no limit, and many times it got us into so much trouble. Yet it was one of the many things that made me fall for you.

I love you, Touya. You are my world, my everything. It pains me not being able to hold you or be by your side. But it will kill you. And I can't let that happen.

The people need you. You are their king. You need to guide them to a brighter future and be light for them to follow. I know you can do it. You will be one of the greatest Kings your kingdom will ever have, even if I'm not beside you.

Goodbye, Touya. I love you.

With all my heart,

Tomura

#shigadabiweek2020 #shigadabi #dabishiga #shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki tomura #Dabi #todoroki touya #todoroki family #fantasy au #bnha #mha

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Title: death by any other name [1/6] Summary: While on a mission during his years as a Padawan, Obi-Wan escapes the tight hold of death transformed into something not quite human. In the years following, he isn’t always so lucky. Or: Five Times Obi-Wan Kenobi should have stayed dead and one time Anakin Skywalker nearly did. An: Happy birthday @bigdickobiwan! Here, take a cheesy Vampires but in space AU except I never use the term vampire.

Read on AO3

Obi-Wan’s entire apprenticeship was cursed by troubles and disasters. He stumbled from one war into another, every conflict tearing more at his soul, sending him into the healing halls far more often than his friends. He knew they eyed his situation warily, as did many Masters given his rocky start as Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, but Obi-Wan didn’t feel like they had any right to interfere. They didn’t care enough to look after him when he was thirteen, angry, and hurting with nobody willing to take him on. Nothing had changed since then, except that despite his many failures, he seemed to have become worth something in their eyes. He wasn’t enough, not yet, but apparently he had more potential now that they hadn’t been able to spy before.

It only took a few near-death experiences.

Most Padawans didn’t engage in as many combat missions as Obi-Wan, but their Masters also didn’t have a penchant to favor aggressive negotiations. Or maybe they decided to listen to common sense as well as the Force and not just rely on the latter. Obi-Wan didn’t know, he was merely guessing and now it soon would be too late for him to ever learn.

He had lost too much blood, he could feel it. His life was slowly ebbing away. The pain had already disappeared completely and so had all sense in his fingertips. At least his death would be painless. He wasn’t drowning or suffocating or being tortured to death. His side had merely taken a terrible hit and he was bleeding out faster than his Master could come to save him.

He just hoped he wouldn't be causing Qui-Gon too much grief with his death. The man deserved at least one apprentice who didn’t screw up and he could see to their knighting. Obi-Wan was distinctly aware that he should be afraid of passing away like this, but all he could feel was regret.

All his missed opportunities seemed to play out in front of his inner eye, weeping. There were so many people he had wanted to talk to still, apologize and laugh with them one last time, but it wasn’t the will of the Force.

At least he had managed to get the princess out of the camp she had been held in and found them shelter. Qui-Gon would be able to find them and return her to her family, restoring the peace of the planet. The dark woods of this world weren’t a terrible grave either. Obi-Wan had been supposed to go to the AgriCorps, perhaps it was just right that he fell asleep amongst trees so old, they had seen the rise and fall of the Republic many hundred times.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” the princess cried.

“-alright,” Obi-Wan managed to reply, half his sentence swallowed by his breath.

He was so, so tired.

But the princess was going to be fine. Obi-Wan would die with honor, doing his duty as a Jedi. The poor girl would get to go home and hopefully leave all the memories of this kidnapping behind her. She didn’t look to be a day over eight, she might learn to forget this day yet. Her family hadn’t been particularly forthcoming on why she had been kidnapped, had only stated that she possessed a valuable gift and no negotiations would be happening until she was home again.

“I can- I can fix this,” she stuttered and wiped her tears off her cheeks. “I can make this right.”

She didn’t have to do anything. Obi-Wan had accepted his fate and he would become one with the Force and watch as the storms over Mon Calamar, the winds on Cato Neiomoida, and the deserts of Tatooine.

“You didn’t deserve this,” she said. “And they will all just stop fighting if I give it up. Stupid traditions. Just watch, Obi-Wan. I bestow upon you my gift of life.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t make out what she was doing, but next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his neck. It felt as if somebody had jagged two knives into it. The pain didn’t dull, it burned and slowly spread. It felt as if somebody had set him on fire. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, the princess pushed her hand into his mouth. Out of reflex, Obi-Wan bit down on it. He tasted something sweet that reminded him distinctly of the teas he drunk back in the temple.

For a moment there was silence.

Then he started to scream. The last thing he heard before unconsciousness claimed him was the princess’s unwavering voice. “You’re not dying on me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The darkness lingered for long. It felt as if centuries passed all while Obi-Wan was just vaguely aware of his surroundings. When he did wake up, he felt even more exhausted than he had before he had passed out. Above him stood Qui-Gon Jinn, looking more torn than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Obi-Wan tried to reach out to him with his mind, but their bond felt like it had been torn to shreds, was only now starting to connect again.

“Master?” he tried to say, but all that escaped him sounded more like “Mashe’?”

“Rest,” Qui-Gon said and Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more.

It continued like that for a while.

Obi-Wan woke up, feverish, confused or in pain, and his Master was sitting at his bedside, watching over him. When Obi-Wan finally woke up for good, the very same view greeted him once more. Qui-Gon was sitting in a chair, engrossed in a datapad. They were not on their mission anymore, but back in the temple. Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force, he was home, a place he had believed to be lost to him.

And once more he was back in the healing halls, though he didn’t recall them being so bright.

“Master?” Obi-Wan said, squinting through his eyes. “Can you turn off the light?”

Qui-Gon packed away his datapad carefully by throwing it on the table next to him.

“Obi-Wan!” He exclaimed. The worry in his voice honestly took Obi-Wan aback. He hadn’t expected his Master to care so much. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “But if you tell me to go back to sleep one more time-“ Obi-Wan paused, fading memories echoing in his mind, “-or attempt to put me under with a Force-suggestion, I will protest.”

Qui-Gon smiled fondly at Obi-Wan, making him feel much more like a youngling than an adult. Obi-Wan wasn’t old by anyone’s standards except that of the children in the temple – and even that varied. There were many Jedi whose lifespans were much longer than Obi-Wan’s would be.

“I will not try so, Padawan.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “Lights?”

A dark expression flashed over Qui-Gon’s face, the like of which Obi-Wan had never seen before so that he even considered whether it wasn’t just a trick of the light. Qui-Gon stood up and disappeared out of his field of vision, soon after the lights dimmed to a more bearable level.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon sat down again. “Did we fulfill the mission?”

Qui-Gon hesitated. That was the first sign something was wrong.

He was a Master of the Living Force, always moving like the currents of a river, never still, never hasting beyond the passage of time. His strange behavior was starting to worry Obi-Wan.

“I found you and the princess and brought you back both back. She has been safely returned into the arms of her family and the negotiations picked up again, even if it was all under less favorable circumstances.”

That explained absolutely nothing. Jedi prided themselves on their eloquence, as much as they were allowed to be prideful. While they all jested about Master Yoda’s utter crypticness, they couldn’t deny that saying a lot and not much at all at the same time a necessary skill. Qui-Gon talked in riddles often enough, but never when it came to matters of such importance. Obi-Wan was not a foreign diplomat who needed to be appeased with Jedi wisdom, he was a Padawan who wanted to know whether his charge was alright.

“Was she harmed?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “No, not as such. But your return did finally enlighten us on her family’s superior standing. The other Ancient Houses have been fighting about her gift and whom it should be used on, which was also the reason she had been kidnapped in the first place. They were displeased she used it on you.”

“I don’t recall,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I was very dazed and so sure I was going to die.”

“You did.”

Qui-Gon’s words weighed heavily in the room, seemingly dragging gravity down on Obi-Wan’s body, pressing the air out of his lungs.

“What?”

Obi-Wan tried to push against the force chaining him to his bed to sit up. He couldn’t hold such a conversation while lying down. Seeing his attempt, Qui-Gon quickly set to support Obi-Wan’s back, helping him up.

“But I’m not dead,” Obi-Wan said. He could feel his heartbeat, his thoughts was whirling and the Force kept humming at the back of his mind, a kind lullaby he didn’t know how to characterize.

“Not anymore, no, but trust me when I say that I felt our bond snap. It was a painful experience, Padawan. Worse than anything words could describe.”

Qui-Gon used the moment to gently tug and Obi-Wan’s messy braid. Nobody seemed to have cared for it while he was unconscious. Obi-Wan had always seen to ensuring that he looked presentable. His displeasure with its state must have shown as Qui-Gon smiled at him in amusement and something deeper Obi-Wan couldn’t decipher. It appeared to him to be relief.

“The princess,” Qui-Gon continued, “has the extraordinary ability to create one person who is like herself and she used it to save you. Her gift has been passed down in the Royal House for generations and they were quite eager to claim you as one of their own in the aftermath, but she stood up to them, saying that she didn’t give you a choice.”

All that was nice and everything, but it didn’t explain anything to Obi-Wan.

“Master, I still don’t understand. What did she do?”

“She gave you life,” Qui-Gon finally answered, the exhaustion of the past days catching up to him as well. “Eternal youth and protection against almost everything. It is not reversible. I’m sorry I could not prevent this fate.”

Eternal youth.

The words rang in Obi-Wan’s mind as if it were from a language he had never heard, couldn’t speak or write.

“But what does it mean?”

Obi-Wan hated being ignorant, being left out. This information was crucial and he just wanted to understand.

“I don’t know yet, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “But we will find out together. The Royal Family hasn’t been too forthcoming with their information before we returned to the temple, but I believe we can figure it out on our own. I already know you’re more sensitive to light.”

“I’m not sensitive,” Obi-Wan muttered. “It’s just bright in here.”

Qui-Gon leveled him with a dry look. “I have turned off the light entirely, Padawan, and you can still see as clear as day.”

Okay, maybe Qui-Gon had been right with his first assumption.

“I’ll have to learn how to adjust to these changes then,” Obi-Wan concluded.

The thought irked him. He had thought that he was finally making enough progress to start becoming more independent. He knew of his friends that their Masters had already begun considering them for Knighthood. Obi-Wan wasn’t jealous of them, he had been the first to tease Quinlan when the Kiffar Padawan had admitted what his Master had confessed, but his doubts had risen once more. He didn’t want to be left behind. Adjusting to whatever gift the princess had bestowed upon him would be another setback.

No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to take it as a challenge. Jedi didn’t focus on what blocked their way, they thought of solutions.

“When can I get out of the healing halls?”

“As soon as we’ve figured out what blood to feed to you.”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master with a deadpan expression, expecting him to be joking, but the man looked serious.

“Blood?”

“Blood?” Qui-Gon repeated. “It’s apparently one of your dietary requirements now.”

The world started to spin again and Obi-Wan dropped back into his bed. Maybe he should sleep some more before getting confronted with facts that made him nauseous.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #Anakin Skywalker #obikin #fanfic #me: im gonna write a story full of cheesy tropes #the story: hey how about we hurt obi-wan for 5 chapters and then some #happy ending tho bc you know me

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edmund-valks · 3 years

Text

From Suramar to the Winter Court

"We… don't normally get your kind here. Then again, the living are hardly expected to be where the souls of the dead dwell. What you've shown me makes me think you would normally be… elsewhere. Perhaps among the Venthyr."

"Why is that?"

"They're the sort who help people work through their pasts."

"I don't need my past. I need a future. So I've come here, to find one. To make one."

"I don't understand…"

"Then let me explain more clearly…"

***

I was born to a family of musicians in Suramar, long after the Sundering. We lived in the grandest city on Azeroth, but could never leave it. The dome we lived beneath was our salvation as much as our cage. It was a tradeoff accepted by our ancestors; we had no choice but to live with it.

My parents were not rich. They had enough money to ensure all their children were tattooed, but only with the simplest patterns. Still, we did not struggle in my early days. Music brought joy, and everyone wanted more joy. We played and sang and did not starve.

As I got older, my voice changed. Never quite the singer my family needed, I became far worse as I progressed through adolescence. It wasn't technique; I know how to breathe, how to shape my mouth, how to project. My tone, however, and range… Well. They were of little use. I became accompaniment at best. I took up needlework to minimize the burden I'd become. Cunningly patched garments are no match for a soulful aria, though.

If I hadn't grown entirely out of youthful beauty, they could have at least hoped to gain by my marriage. Instead, my voice and face and body achieved unity in ugliness, none betraying the others by achieving. This would not have been an issue in the year of my birth, but life had become ever more lean in the city.

The poorest are always aware that they are, and we had become increasingly close to being among them. Our art paid the same as ever, but the cost to survive had grown. People had begun to disappear, though it was always those who you might expect: the lonely, the bitter, the rebellious. Perhaps, we told ourselves, they had finally committed a grand crime and gotten exiled. That was the punishment, you see -- banishment from the city. It meant you were cut off from the Nightwell. You would wither away without its magic to sustain you. The lucky went to sleep and never woke up. The others went mad.

As we were becoming progressively nearer to the bottom rung of the social ladder, the demons returned. We -- my people, not my family, even my great-grandparents were too young to recall this -- had fought them before. The shield that was our sky had been created then. This time… things were not so easy for us. The High Magistrix traded our sovereignty for our survival, and so the Legion came to live among us.

There was an outcry, of course, even some small acts of rebellion. None were successful. The leaders were either jailed or exiled, not executed. I think the idea was that death created martyrs, while exile simply made animals. Life changed little, is what I am getting at. The major difference was the Legion walking our streets, presumably making demands of our leaders. We were more concerned with surviving, so I can't say we worried too much about all that.

It was difficult, though. Those who could afford to purchase the joy of song were fewer and fewer, yet they were increasingly wealthy. If there had ever been such a thing as a middle class, it had effectively disappeared. The rich sacrificed nothing; the rest of us scraped by.

Except those who didn't. There were more disappearances. Sometimes there were raids. Usually the families taken away were related to someone known to be a criminal of some sort. It was easy not to notice or care. We were much more concerned with our own lives. The bottom was coming quickly, we knew.

My family tried with me. I know they did. Nobody could have guessed I would betray them by ending up a collection of flaws held together with collective disappointment. They would not miss me, I was certain, so I decided I would do some good for them. I left one night while they slept, heading down to the docks.

The demons were most common there. Intimidating though they were, I often felt their presence to be… not soothing, exactly, but more tolerable than others. At least when I stood beside a flayed-skin husk that fed on souls I could feel almost pretty. They ignored me, mostly, so I sought out those of my people who worked among them.

There was work to be had, you see. The Legion needed portals opened and maintained, portals that required someone act as the conduit to maintain them. It was not very skilled labour, but that was good. I lacked skill, possessing nothing but my relative youth and determination to no longer burden my parents with my disappointing existence. I became what the later rebellion called a collaborator. In exchange for helping the Legion to destroy our planet, I could improve my family's lives. It seemed a fair trade.

I was surprisingly good at the work. I learned quickly, and I tired far less easily than others. The demons and my supervisors taught me runes and cosmology that were typically reserved for those who could afford tutors. I was rewarded quite decently for my efforts, and I passed that along to my family. They lived better than ever because of me, but believed me dead. I'd requested that, you see. I wanted them to profit without knowing I was a collaborator. Let them think I had died in service to something useful or whatever, and that in so doing I had made sure they would survive. They didn't need to be any more disappointed than I'd already made them.

The problem was I finally understood where people were going. We brought the Legion in, maintained paths from the Twisting Nether and other Legion worlds, but that was the most innocuous of what was happening. The disappeared, those too far gone to be of use to Elisande's regime… they were taken elsewhere. They would be loaded onto boats or carts or cages mounted on the backs of horrible beasts I never learned the names of. And then they would be gone. I didn't know exactly where, though I learned the name: the soul engines.

What happened there was beyond my understanding. I knew as much as I needed: the poor went in, power came out. My work… well. I don't know if they were related. The Legion handled it, so I suppose I helped in that sense, but doing what I did was the only thing that kept me and my family from finding out more about the "process" first-hand. Perhaps I was involved in the murder of thousands? All I know is I saved at least seven lives.

…

I'm sorry, I'm not used to talking about all of this. It seems important to be honest here, so I'm trying. In all honesty, I don't take any responsibility for what was done. How could I? It wasn't my decisions that caused any of those things to happen. I did what I had to to survive. And I made them pay in the end.

Once the… second, I suppose, rebellion started in earnest, the system became increasingly strained. My hours lengthened. Several others became so burned out they were "sent home early", almost certainly a euphemism for being fed to the engines. Some were murdered for collaborating with the Legion, or Elisande, or whoever the rebels were mad at that day. I couldn't help them, any of them. My life -- and others' -- depended on keeping my head down. So I did.

I considered, though, and I thought. I was becoming very senior, at least by maintenance standards. The portal builders were under pressure as well, their numbers thinning or being pulled for other priority tasks. That left space for opportunities. I didn't want to be them, but I was capable of learning. That made me an apprentice of sorts, something I never would have been a decade earlier. My family lacked the resources to get me a mentor; the Legion invasion had given me one for free, while providing for their needs.

My education on runes happened at an aggressive pace. Every day was multiple practical exams, and if I failed it was likely to kill me. I didn't. I wasn't allowed many questions, so I made them count. I learned a great deal in those days. For instance, I discovered that a small instability introduced by a slightly malformed rune could cause a devastating energy backlash. Can you imagine what might happen if a system under strain began breaking down while under heavy use? People could die, especially if the portal structures are being kept constantly active with no downtime for repair.

…

I said I was trying to be honest, didn't I? I knew what I was doing would kill them. That was the idea. I only did it because I thought I could get away with it. While nobody would think a lowborn technician was smart enough to do it, they would still prefer to punish the "unskilled" over someone who went to the same academy or whatever. That made me safe, even if I was an obvious suspect. They needed me, and I wasn't like the others. I benefited from their system and never dissented. Would I have done it if I thought they might be less blind? I don't know. I'm not willing to die over principle. It won't prove a point to anyone, won't change the world. Nobody would remember my sacrifice, so no, I don't think I would. The world hasn't earned that from me, and I don't deserve to die. We all do what we must to survive.

***

"...So no, I'm not pursuing "redemption". I don't have sins weighing me down. What I am is… curious. This is the world my people once knew, back long ago, isn't it? Where the only magic is that of the world around? We kept the night for millennia, but missed out on what that meant beyond our walls."

The fae hovered for a moment on her great wings, what could have been a shiver rippling through her fur. "I-I'm still not sure you're going to like it here. You don't seem the sort to laugh."

"There hasn't been much to laugh about in my life," the shal'dorei snapped. She took a breath, continuing on more softly. "Besides, I don't plan to stay forever. We are helping each other. Perhaps you can help me laugh."

Blinking several times, the creature was clearly hesitant, but desperate times did come with special rules. "We… can certainly try! Um. Come along, let's get you introduced to everyone, Miss…?"

"Ciscandra," she answered, deliberately omitting a surname. "Thank you."

#wow rp #warcraft rp #ciscandra

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calamity-callie · 4 years

Text

New Beginnings ~ Wiztober Day 1

Edited by @spiralcompendium

“So.” The single, stern word broke a heavy silence that had been present since their private airship left the port in Hamamitsu. “How was your first year at the Imperial City Dragon Academy?” Alia flinched. They had been hoping and praying that this question would never come but knew it was inevitable. ‘Why did it have to be this soon though?’ they cried internally, cursing themself for not already having a full speech prepared for this. “Well?” their mother snipped impatiently, interrupting Alia’s thought process. Under pressure to deliver positive results, they opened their mouth to reply and a flood of words poured out.

“Dragon Academy? Oh, it was great!!! The Imperial City is such a cool place, and I loved seeing the inside of the Imperial Palace - did you know it contains 75 bedrooms?! 75!!! Also -”

“Alia,” came the first interruption.

“Also it turns out I have a natural talent for gardening! See I joined the gardening club and I was the only first year in the history of the school to actually raise a maelstrom snap dragon to elder! A Maelstrom! Snap! Dragon! That’s senior level stuff!!! Oh oh also -”

“Alia…” their mother interrupted again, this time with slightly more insistence.

“- alsoalsoalso it turns out I’m real good at alchemy, too! So much so that a potions vendor in the city took me as an apprentice! My first job, and something I love too! Can you believe it?!?!? Also also oh oh also also also -”

“ALIA!” The third interruption came as a full on yell. They gasped, taken aback by the intensity. “You know exactly what I mean. I don’t care about your extracurricular activities, your clubs, or how many bedrooms the palace has. Your grades. Let me see them.”

“Well, I got one A, uhhhh...” Alia trailed off, panicking. Their off-the-cuff plan hadn’t turned out quite how they hoped. As they desperately tried to brainstorm ways to stall for more time though, their mother, growing ever more impatient, demanded yet again, “Show me your grades. Now.”

Defeated, a crestfallen Alia opened up their bag, pulled out an official looking envelope, and handed it off without a word. The seconds felt like hours as their mother peeled off the wax seal, opened the top flap, and pulled out the parchment inside. Her face morphed from concentration, to confusion, to rage. She opened her mouth as if to yell, but at the last second changed her mind. Putting the sheet back into the envelope, she simply said, “We will discuss this with your father when we get home.” Not a single word was uttered for the rest of the flight.

Some hours later, the two arrived at their home in Kembaalung. Their father initially greeted them with a smile and open arms, but their mother quickly trotted over to him and they began talking in hushed tones. After a moment their father turned with a grim face and said, “Alia. Go to your room. We will call you when we are ready to talk.”

“Talk. Great. They want to Talk.” Alia laid on their bed, speaking their thoughts aloud, thankful for the magical soundproofing their parents tended to use during their private conversations. Looking over at the bookshelf on the opposite wall, they contemplated how things ever got to this point. The shelf was full of thick tomes on dragon magic: grimoires they could remember being forced to read and memorize for hours at a time, beginning as soon as they learned to read. They had every word of every thick volume on that shelf memorized, but not a single line made any sense. This collection of facts served them well enough to pass the entrance exam though, and they held out hope that maybe actual teaching would be the missing link; maybe seeing these incomprehensible concepts in action would be all it took to help them finally understand this strange breed of magic. Unfortunately as the school year wore on, they only found themself falling farther and farther behind, and though they aced every written test, they never managed to cast a single spell.

“I really just am a failure aren’t I,” they muttered, burying their face in a pillow. Their mind began to race with all sorts of possibilities. “I’m going to get lectured, I’m gonna be confined to the indoors for the whole season reading these awful books again and again, I’m gonna be kicked out, they’re never going to want to talk to me again, I’m a disappointment to the whole family…” Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock. Jolted out of their downward spiral, Alia slowly crawled out of bed and opened the door. Their parents, stiff and stern as ever, marched in as Alia sat back down on their bed. The silence was thick with tension when their father opened his mouth to speak.

“We are… disappointed in you, Alia. You failed every class.” The lecture began in a smooth yet stern tone, but Alia wasn’t fooled. The escalation was imminent. “I just… I just can’t believe you failed every class!” A thick lump began to form in their throat as his speech heated up. “You studied those books every day! You had everything memorized and aced the entrance exam! All of our hopes were riding ON YOU, ALIA!” As the lecture finally escalated to full on yelling, they felt tears begin to well up but tried their best to force them down as the lecture continued. “Have you forgotten that we are the oldest clan of warrior monks in all of Mooshu??? And now thanks to THIS-” he held up the parchment, displaying all seven failing marks, and the single passing grade “- OUR TRADITION IS OVER!! OVER!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH YOU HAVE FAILED US??? WHERE DID WE GO WRONG!?!?!?!”

Alia stood up and burst into tears. “I don’t know what more you want from me okay??? I read your stupid books, I memorized your stupid facts, I did everything you wanted me to do, but you never even cared about what I WANT!” Her father prepared to yell in response, but before he could Alia shouted again, “I never wanted to be a STUPID FUCKING WARRIOR MONK ANYWAY! I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!” With that, they stormed out of the house, leaving a deafening silence behind.

Dusk began to fall as Alia sat on a bench next to a frozen lake. Though it was the middle of summer, Kembaalung was always cold and snowy, and this night was no exception. They huddled in a blanket and began to sob uncontrollably. How had their life come to this? Through the frozen tears their mind began to wander into dark places again. “Where will I spend the night? Nobody here will take me in, they’re all monks… I don’t even have any friends… Does anyone even really care? I could just sit here on the bench and freeze…”

Their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a splash of green in their peripheral vision. They turned to look and, despite the freezing temperatures, a single young plant had sprouted out of the snow. Alia got up, walked over to it, then kneeled down, cupping their hands around the base. “You understand what it’s like, don’t you?” they muttered. With a pang of empathy, they cupped their hands closer and started softly singing. The snow around the plant began to melt as a single sunbeam materialized, piercing the night seemingly from nowhere. Alia sang louder and closed their eyes, truly becoming engulfed in their song, letting the melody flow through their entire body. As if channeling power from old Bartleby himself, the sprout grew, slowly at first but then quite rapidly. When the song came to an end, Alia, feeling calm and peaceful for the first time all day, opened their eyes. Before them was a now tall, proud sunflower towering in defiance over the whole cold landscape. They stared in awe for a short time, but were again snapped out of it upon hearing footsteps in the snow from behind.

“So it seems you do have a knack for gardening then.” The sharp voice instantly brought Alia back to reality. They turned their head and saw their mother standing there, arms folded. “I’ve come to collect you. Now, come.” Alia began to protest but realized that they didn’t have much choice. They grudgingly began following her back to the family home.

The next morning, Alia trudged downstairs, awaiting the fallout of yesterday’s scene. As expected, both parents were seated and silently gestured for Alia to join them. As they sat down, their father began speaking. “Your mother told me of everything that happened at the lake last night. You channeled the Song of Creation, didn’t you?” Alia gasped, but before they could speak, their father continued. “We have decided you will enroll in Ravenwood, effective immediately. You are free to choose your own path from there.” Alia’s face lightened up for a moment as her father continued. “But there will be conditions. You may no longer associate yourself with our family. You no longer share our last name, you no longer share our lineage. You will be welcome here for short visits until you come of age, at which point you will be expected to find your own way. Do you accept this arrangement?”

Alia sat, dumbstruck at what had just laid out before them. Leaving their home forever was a terrifying proposition, but after only a single minute of thought, they confidently said, “Yes. I accept.”

For the first time in their life, Alia saw shock on their parent’s faces. It was soon wiped off and replaced by the typical stony looks, but it was unmistakable. “V-very well,” their father stammered as the shock wore off. “We depart immediately. Your first day is tomorrow.”

------ One Week Later ------

Alia sat alone at a table in one of the many Wizard City student dining facilities, again deep in thought. “Was it even worth coming here?” they asked themself. “Classes are fine I guess, but I haven’t met any friends here, I don’t know anyone who lives here at all, my parents will probably never want to see me again… Oh, what have I gotten myself into this time… Maybe they’ll take me back if I ask -”

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice snapped them out of their spiral of thoughts as a girl who looked to be about the same age as them sat down. “First week’s rough, huh? I struggled to adjust at first too, but don’t worry, it’s gonna be great! Heyyyy, now that I think of it, I’ve seen you in some of my classes, haven’t I? You’re Alia, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alia responded somewhat hesitantly, holding out their hand to shake.

“My name’s Keira,” she said as she ignored the hand and went in for a full hug. “And I can already tell we’re gonna be best friends!”

#wiztober2020 #w101 #wizard101 #wizzy101 #wizzy fanfic #Alia is my smallest oc I love them #and Keira is my gf's oc!

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

Text

For Want of a Switch

... A Nintendo Switch, amirite?

No, JK I’ve actually started a new fic because plot bunny/fandom pet peeves wouldn’t let me work.

An AU where things go a little more smoothly at the UFO crash site, Dipper doesn’t make any life-changing decisions without sleeping on it first, and Ford clarifies some earlier statements made while under emotional duress.

Many metaphors have been made about how changing course by just a couple of degrees can lead to a very different destination. How flipping a simple switch can make a difference between a train ending up in Paris or Munich. In this case, the metaphorical switch was as simple as Ford and Dipper not pressing a real switch inside a derelict spaceship. Because of this, no security droids showed up when Dipper found the adhesive, and they were free to continue their conversation about apprenticeship uninterrupted.

“I-I dunno.” Dipper stammered when Ford insisted that Mabel would be fine on her own in California. “We’ve never really been apart before.”

“And isn’t that suffocating?” Ford asked.

“...What do you mean?” Dipper asked for clarification. He was pretty sure he knew where his great uncle was coming from, but he had to be sure. Because if not… well, the boy wouldn’t let anyone talk about his sister like that and not stand up for her, not even The Author.

“I mean always living with the expectations that you have to go everywhere together, to do everything together! I mean when people act as though you’ve done something wrong if you ever try to follow your own path, even your own twin!”

Dipper nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. The teacher over our Quiz Bowl team is always asking me when Mabel’s gonna join, no matter how many times I tell him she’s not into that sort of thing. And every time Mabel gets a part in the school play, everyone else pesters me so much for not auditioning that I end up joining the stage crew, even though rehearsals are the same time as Game Club. Mabel always says I don’t have to, but… I just get so tired of all the other teachers and students getting on my case.”

There were even more instances like this that Dipper could list. Heck, just earlier this summer, Mabel had been upset because he wouldn’t go trick-or-treating with her. But no, Mabel was more upset that Dipper had tried to ditch her without explaining that he wanted to go to the dance with Wendy, and Robbie had made him feel embarrassed about being too old for it. She wouldn’t have been so mad if he’d just talked to her in the first place. Right?

When he stopped to think about it, Dipper realized it was probably even worse for Ford and Stan when they were growing up. They may have been fraternal twins, but they definitely looked identical. And while Dipper had never met his great-grandfather, the few stories he’d heard about the guy didn’t make him sound like a very supportive parent.

“Dipper, can you honestly tell me you never felt like you were meant for something more?” Ford asked. “More than what people expect of you? More than just being half of an assumed pair?”

“I-I guess… maybe? I dunno. Staying here in Gravity Falls, working with you… it sounds like a dream come true, but I’m not sure I have what it takes. Bill tricked me, and I was wrong about Stan and the portal.…”

“Bill tricked me too, remember?” Ford assured him. “And you were right about Stan and the portal. It was too dangerous, and he shouldn’t have opened it.”

“But then you never would have--”

“I know. Believe me, I know. And I’m so glad I got to come back to Gravity Falls and meet you and Mabel, but… but it’s selfish of me to feel that way, because the event that brought me home put the rest of the universe in danger. Once we find the alien adhesive and seal the rift, maybe I can-- I can finally live without- well, with a little less guilt.” He sighed and muttered under his breath. “Sixty-three years old, and I’m still cleaning up after his messes.” Ford shifted through a few more containers, still looking for the adhesive. “What I’m trying to say is: I think you do have what it takes.”

“If you say so…” Dipper shrugged. “I mean, I can’t even work this magnet gun right!” He held it up to demonstrate and ended up zapping a hexagonal container right to him. It leaked a strange pink goop when he tried to pry it off.

“That’s it!” Ford cried. “You did it, my boy, you found the adhesive!”

“I did?”

“Yes! What did I tell you? You do have what it takes, kid, you’re brilliant!” Ford hugged him, and then carefully packed up the alien adhesive. “We can continue this discussion on the way back home. For now, we’ve got bigger things to worry about. I’ve been working on a specialized glue-gun back in the lab. We should be able to fill it with the alien adhesive and seal up the rift.”

Dipper got a few more tries with the magnet gun on their way back out of the crashed alien ship, and by the time he reached the ladder again, he’d actually gotten the hang of it.

“Great Uncle Ford?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“If… if I do become your apprentice, could we come back here some time?”

Ford grinned warmly. “Absolutely.”

As they ascended the ladder, Dipper paused to take a few more selfies before they left the UFO, and he even got Ford to pose with him in one, but it was clear the old researcher wanted to get back to the lab and seal off the rift as soon as possible. Their climb up was otherwise uneventful. But while Dipper was exiting the ship, his foot caught on the lip of the opening, and tripped over the rock that had been covering the access hatch before. Luckily, his backpack took the brunt of the fall. Unluckily, they heard the loud crunch of something breaking.

Dipper and Ford shared a moment of wide-eyed terror as the boy hurriedly opened up his bag and pulled out the rift. They shared a sigh of relief when they found the crack in the containment unit hadn't expanded more than a millimeter, and was still stable. Dipper rummaged around in his bag and found the offending culprit.

“Phew, it was just my walkie-talkie.” The boy sighed with relief. The speaker had popped out and the Talk button was stuck down. “Oh well, we weren’t getting a signal anyway.”

“I can fix it for you, once the rift is taken care of.” Ford assured him, “But we need to seal it fast, before that crack finally breaks.”

Dipper nodded and gingerly held out the containment unit to his uncle. “I think you’d better carry it from here on out.”

Ford solemnly took the rift and placed it in one of his many coat pockets. “That was close. We can’t afford to have any accidents with this.”

“I’m sorry…” Dipper murmured.

“You don’t need to be sorry, my boy. Just more careful.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about when I say I don’t think I have what it takes! I just almost ended the universe!”

“Almost being the operative word. You almost destabilized the rift, but you didn’t.” Ford reassured him. “Meanwhile, look at all the things you have done! Defeated a swarm of gnomes, faced off against a character from a fighting game brought to life, outsmarted a shapeshifter! How many other twelve-year-olds could do that? This town is a magnet for things that are special. For people who are special, like you and me!” Ford hugged him. “So what do you say, will you be my apprentice?”

“Well… I… it’s a really big decision.” Dipper said slowly. “I’m gonna need time to think about it.”

“You’re right. It is a big decision.” Ford agreed. “And you’ve got the rest of the week to consider it. Of course, I hope you say yes.”

* * *

The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon when they got back to the shack, the sunlight filtering in long slanting beams between the trees. The beautiful scenery added to Dipper's good mood as he ran up the stairs to the attic, eager to share the day's events with his sister.

"Mabel! I just had the greatest day of my life! Aliens are real, and I got to explore their ship with Grunkle Ford, and-" he halted in his rambling when he saw his sister curled up in a ball on her bed, her back to him. "Mabel, what's wrong?"

She slowly sat up and turned around, revealing her walkie-talkie, still receiving transmissions from Dipper's busted one.

"Tell me I heard wrong, Dipper!" She cried, "Tell me you're not going to stay here and be Ford's apprentice!"

"Well, I… I haven't really made a decision yet." Dipper replied. "I've still got all week to think about it."

"You just had the best day of your life? Well I just had the worst day of my life!" Mabel informed her brother with tears in her eyes. "I found out that everything I was looking forward to in the future, highschool, a birthday party with my friends, even saying goodbye to them at the bus stop before we leave, it's all going wrong! And now I find out you, the one constant in my life, might not be coming home with me!?"

"I-I don't know, I haven't decided yet…" Dipper stammered. "Just give me a couple of days to think about it, we'll figure this out!"

"Why can't you figure out right now that it's a terrible idea!?"

Dipper tried to remember how Ford had put it. He made it sound so clear and logical. "Come on, Mabel, we can't always do the same thing! We have to choose our own path!"

"What does that even mean!?" She threw her hands up. "I'm your sister and your friend, Dipper, whatever you do it's gonna affect me, especially if it's you leaving me!"

“Well, always staying with you is going to affect me and the opportunities I have!”

“I’m not saying you always have to stay with me!” Mabel retorted. “But moving away from home for good? Staying cooped up in a lab with Grunkle Ford all the time? Is that really what you want?”

“I don’t know what I really want!” Dipper steamed. “So far today nobody has given me time to stop and really think about this! You think I don’t have misgivings about moving away from Mom and Dad? But it’s not like I’d never come back, I’d come to visit for holidays and stuff. And I wouldn’t be cooped up in the lab with Grunkle Ford all the time. We’d go out exploring, and I’d hang out with Wendy when she’s done with school for the day, and Grunkle Stan would still be around to make me do chores… probably…”

Come to think of it, Dipper wasn’t quite sure what Stan was going to do once tourist season was over. It was clear Ford didn’t approve of the Mystery Shack, even less than Dipper had when the boy first arrived. Would Stan stay in Gravity Falls after the Shack was shut down? Did he have anywhere else to go?

“Fine!” Mabel huffed as she stormed out of the room. “Take you time thinking about how much fun you’re gonna have chasing fairies with Grunkle Ford, while I’m stuck in Piedmont doing math homework!”

Dipper waited quietly in their bedroom as he listened to Mabel thunder down the stairs. He figured it was probably best to give her some space to cool down for now. They’d talk more about it when she wasn’t so upset, when they could both think clearly. Once the front door slammed shut, he knew it was safe for him to go downstairs. He headed down to the basement to see if Ford needed any help sealing the rift.

* * *

It was early in the evening, but the gift shop was completely empty. Of course, the fact that it was the second-to-last Friday of August didn’t help. Tourist season was coming to a close. Normally the Mystery Shack would cut back to only being open on the weekends once September rolled around, going until Halloween, when Stan would throw together a haunted house and go out with a bang before closing down until the holiday season, when he’d open up for a couple of weeks before shutting down again until Spring Break of next year.

Not this year, though.

This year, Stan would be closing up the Mystery Shack for good.

“Alright, I ain’t payin’ ya to stand around when we’re not pulling in any cash.” Stan barked at Wendy. “Go home!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Wendy shrugged, pulling off her name tag and grabbing her jacket.

“You too, Soos!” Stan turned to the handyman, who was busy pulling boxes out of a closet.

“You sure, Mr. Pines?” Soos asked, “I thought you wanted me to clear out all our old inventory.”

“It can wait ‘til tomorrow. I get the feeling it’s gonna be another slow day.”

“Oh. Well, I could help you clean out the kitchen instead!”

“Soos.”

“You don’t gotta pay me. Oh, or I could vacuum the living room!”

“Go home, Soos! If you’re so set on doin’ chores, do ‘em for your Abuelita!”

“Oh. Ok…”

Stan hadn’t told Soos about Ford’s mandate to close down the Mystery Shack after the kids left, and he worried the handyman would figure it out if he stuck around. Stan also hadn’t told the guy he’d be kicked out after the kids left. Maybe Stan was just trying to spare the kid’s feelings. Or maybe he was hoping Soos’ inevitable water works when he found out would persuade Ford to change his mind. Not likely, but hey, it was worth a shot, right?

The old conman was tallying up the day’s profits in the cash register (there weren’t any) when his hearing aide picked up the bang of the attic bedroom door slamming open, followed by the tromp-thump-clomp-thunk of someone stomping down the stairs, punctuated by the creeeeeeak-slam of the front door being thrown open and then kicked shut.

“Oh boy.” He sighed, locking the till. He’d had to cheer Mabel up just an hour ago, and he didn’t think it was a coincidence that someone had stormed out of the house just a few minutes after Dipper and Ford got back from their latest nerd escapade. What were those kids fighting about now?

Stan peeked out the window at the front porch, and sure enough, there was Mabel, sobbing on the couch, her head pulled into her sweater. Earlier she’d just been sad and unsure of the future, but now Stan could see her mood had shifted, and not for the better. These were tears of anger and frustration.

“Hey Pumpkin, you alright?” Stan asked as he peeked out the front door.

“No!”

Right, stupid question. “Well, wassamatter? I gotta punch some jerk for you?”

“No…” Mabel said more quietly this time. Stan figured that was all the invitation he needed to sit down next to her.

“You feelin’ up to tellin’ me what happened, or am I gonna have to play Ducktective?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now…” Mabel mumbled, her voice a bit muffled by the sweater over her face. “Can you just… can you just sit here with me for a little while?”

“Eh, sure, I got nothin’ better to do.” Stan played it off like he was indifferent, but he wrapped a gentle arm around her back. He could tell she appreciated it by the way she leaned into his side.

They sat there like that for maybe five minutes before Mabel finally began to talk on her own.

“You remember earlier, when you said at least whatever happens, I’ll still have Dipper with me?”

Yep, they were definitely fighting again. “Yeah?”

“I’m starting to worry I won’t always have him with me.”

“Alright, what’d that bundle of sweat and nerves do now?”

“It’s not something he did… not exactly.” Mabel was quiet for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure she should share the next bit. “Grunkle Ford asked Dipper if he wanted to stay here in Gravity Falls and be his apprentice.”

“...Did he now?” Stan asked icily. He didn’t want to make this about him and his brother’s issues. This was Mabel’s problem. But oh boy, he was going to have words with his brother as soon as he had the chance. “Sixty-three years old and I’m still cleanin’ up after his messes…” he muttered under his breath.

“I overheard them talking about it on the walkie-talkies.” Mabel nodded, apparently not hearing that last bit. “And when Dipper got back, he said he needed time to think about it! I guess I’m mad because if it were me, I wouldn’t have to think about it. If I had to choose between staying in Gravity Falls without Dipper, or going home with him, I’d choose to go home with him every time!”

Stan gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I know you would, sweetie. But you gotta remember, your brother’s one of those over-thinking types. He’s gotta over-think everything! That big head of his will figure out it’s a bad idea.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have to talk some sense into him.”

Mabel shifted inside her sweater and gave a little moan. She still wasn’t reassured.

Stan heaved a deep sigh. “Look, I’m gonna tell you somethin’ I wish I’d known when I was a kid. I don’t think this’ll happen, but… if Dipper does decide he wants to stay with Ford, or if when you two get older, he decides to do something you really don’t think he should do, you should try and talk some sense into him. But if he still won’t listen, all you can do is support him. Cuz if he ever feels like you’re tryin’ to hold him back, that’ll only push him away faster.”

Mabel finally poked her head out of her sweater and looked up at Stan with wide eyes. “I’m not trying to hold Dipper back… I just don’t want to be alone!”

He hugged her. “I know, sweetie. Nobody does.”

“And you weren’t trying to hold Grunkle Ford back when you two were teenagers! The thing with his science fair project was just an accident!”

Oh great. Here he’d been trying to not make this about himself and his issues with his brother. “Believe me, I know. But it doesn’t matter what I know. He still thinks it was sabotage.” The old conman shook his head. “But look, kid, you don’t gotta worry about my issues, even if they do seem pretty similar. I know right now with summer ending and your last year of middle school starting, it seems you’re growin’ up too fast, but the truth is, you’re still young. You an’ your brother’ve still got years an’ years to mess up and make up.”

Mabel squirmed the rest of the way out of her sweater and wrapped her arms around Stan’s waist. “Thanks Grunkle Stan. I guess I feel a little better now. I’m still worried about what Dipper will do, though.”

“Well, if he does decide to stay here with Ford, maybe I’ll come home with you.”

Mabel giggled and looked up at him again, but her smile faltered when she saw he wasn’t joking. “W-what are you talking about? You can’t just leave the Mystery Shack, this is your home!”

Yikes. Stan probably shouldn’t have said that out loud. He was pretty sure the whole reason Ford was letting him stay until the kids left was because the old nerd didn’t want them to know about it and make a fuss. Stan had just wanted to make Mabel feel better, but she’d just be more upset if she found out he’d been kicked out.

Luckily, something else caught their attention before that conversation could start. They heard something rustling through the underbrush. It was hard to see in the dimming light as the sun continued to sink towards the horizon, but a humanoid figure seemed to be making its way towards the clearing that housed the Mystery Shack. Stan reached behind the couch for his anti-creep bat, which he used to chase off Manotaurs, IRS agents, or the stray beautiful men that had started hanging around a couple of months ago. But an uneasy feeling he couldn’t place made him reach further down until his hand closed around the handle of a pistol. His thumb rested carefully against the safety switch, unsure if he should flip if off yet.

Before the figure came into full view, they heard its voice, high pitched and annoying, but probably male. “M-M-M-Mabel? M-Mable? Ugh, where is she? She should’ve come this way by now!”

Stan switched the safety off. He was about to order Mabel back inside when the stranger finally stumbled into the clearing. He was a tall, pudgy man with a hairstyle that looked straight out of the 1920’s, wearing weird little goggles and a gray jumpsuit. Wait, not gray, forest camo. Wait, no, brick pattern. No, a seascape. No, definitely gray. Wow, were Stan’s eyes really that bad?

“Wait, Blendin!?” Mabel exclaimed. She hopped up from the couch, but Stan immediately grabbed her shoulder and sat her back down. Every instinct in his body was telling him this was wrong.

This Blendin guy looked up with surprise when he heard her voice. “M-Mabel! I’ve been looking all over for you! I-I-I need your help!”

That just set off more alarm bells. Why would this creep be looking for Mabel in the woods instead of the home she’d been living in for the past two-and-a-half months?

“Mabel, who the heck is this weirdo?” Stan asked uneasily.

“That’s Blendin Blandin. He’s a time travel guy. Me and Dipper accidentally lost him his job, and then he challenged us to a time travelers’ gladitoral death match called Globnar, which we won, so we got him his job back, and now we’re cool!” She assured her uncle. “What’s wrong, Blendin?”

“S-something terrible is about to happen, and I-I-I need your help to stop it!”

Mabel tried to stand up again, but Stan kept a hand tightly clamped down on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you can tell her from where you’re at.” Stan growled.

“I-I-It’s top secret!” Blendin whined. “I-I-I could lose my job again i-if this gets out!”

“It’s OK Blendin! Grunkle Stan just wants to make sure I’m safe!” Mabel assured him. “But he’s really good at keeping secrets, you can trust him! Why don’t you just come up here and tell us what’s wrong?”

Blendin took a few steps forward, but stopped just a foot short of the porch. “Uuuuh… h-h-how about we meet h-half-way?”

That was it. Stan whipped out the pistol he’d been hiding behind the couch. “How’s about you start talkin’ now?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel gasped, scandalized.

“A-a-alright!” Blendin whimpered. “I-I-I need something from your brother’s lab! B-but you have to hurry!”

* * *

Ford noticed right away that Dipper’s mood had worsened in the ten minutes since they’d gotten home. His gaze was on the floor, and he shuffled his feet as he left the elevator.

“Let me guess, Mabel didn’t take it well?”

Dipper just shook his head in reply. “I still need to talk to her about it when she’s not so upset, but… I’m starting to think I shouldn’t take your offer…”

The old researcher felt himself deflate at the boy’s words, but he hoped Dipper hadn’t noticed. Instead he changed the subject. “For now, we need to focus on sealing the rift. Everything else can wait.” He pulled the rift out of his pocket. The crack reached almost completely across the protective dome now. “Dipper, would you please get me the glue gun sitting on the console desk?”

The glue gun in question looked like a cross between one of Mabel’s crafting glue guns and a Nyarf Mega Soaker, complete with an empty tank built into the back end. It was big enough that Dipper needed both hands to lift it. The boy carried it over to Ford, who inserted the tip into the alien adhesive container and began to fill it like a syringe.

“Alright, I need you to take that flathead screwdriver and very carefully unscrew the base of the containment unit.” Ford instructed.

Dipper did just that, holding his breath the whole time so his hands wouldn’t shake.

“OK, now turn it over, slow and steady, and detach one of the tubes from the dome.”

Dipper turned the dome in his hands, careful to keep the swirling blob of chaos energy inside from touching the glass, and then pulled one of the tiny tubes out. Ford knelt down beside him and inserted the tip of the glue gun into the little hole before the rift could leak out. He began to pump the alien adhesive into the rift, starting at the bottom and working his way up until what had once been a sparkling hole in space was now a glowing pink mass. He continued until the glue began to ooze out of the cracks in the dome.

“Alright, put it down. Careful not to get any of the adhesive on your hands. Step back.” Ford put himself between Dipper and the filled containment dome the moment the boy moved. The old researcher stared it down, as if daring it to do something, anything, to suggest it was destabilizing. He waited a minute. Two. Five. It just sat there, unmoving, unchanging.

Ford released a breath he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding. Was that it? Was he… done?

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot went off from the vicinity of the porch above them.

Ford swore he jumped as high as the ceiling at the sound. Dipper screamed. The old researcher pressed himself and his nephew into the small space beneath the console desk, looking warilly up at the hole in the roof where Dipper had fallen through under the porch just a few weeks ago. If he concentrated, he could hear voices arguing up there. It sounded like Stan, and another voice he didn’t recognize, but it was hard to make out. He was going to have to go up there if he wanted to know what was happening.

“Stay down here where it’s safe. If Stan or your sister try to come in here without me, don’t trust them until you’ve checked their eyes. If anyone else tries to get in, barricade the door and hide.”

“W-what about the rift?”

Ford glanced down at the ball of glowing adhesive. It’d take at least another 24 hours for it to cure, but it seemed safe, for now. “Hide it, if you have to, but it should be fine.” With that, he darted to the elevator, checking his weapons as he waited for the lift to take him up.

He hoped everyone was ok. It would be the cruelest irony if after finally protecting the universe from the rift, he failed to protect his family.

* * *

“Grunkle Stan, don’t hurt him!” Mabel cried, trying to pull down his arm holding up the gun.

“Just a warning shot, sweetie.” Stan assured her through gritted teeth. “I don’t remember ever mentioning anything about havin’ a brother to you, much less anything about a lab.” He addressed the stranger standing in front of the porch.

“I-I-I’m from the future! I know these sorts of things!” Blendin insisted. Funny. He didn’t seem any more flustered than he had been before the gunshot.

“Sure.”

“Grunkle Stan, he’s telling the truth!”

“I don’t doubt that.” But Stan knew better than anyone that the best way to sell a big lie was with a bunch of technically true facts. And his instincts told him this joker was trying to pass a doozy of a lie. “Go wait inside, sweetie.”

“No, you’ll shoot him!”

“Only if he gives me a good reason to.”

“M-M-Mabel, wait!” Blendin implored pathetically.

“Go wait inside kid, or you’re grounded!”

“But Grunkle Stan--”

“Somethin’ about this is off, alright?” Stan muttered to her under his breath. “Pay attention to your instincts, you’ll feel it too. Just do me a favor and go inside where it’s safe, ok?”

After another moment of hesitation, Mabel finally listened to her Grunkle and went inside.

“So,” Stan turned his attention back to the stranger waiting just beyond the porch. “I got five more rounds. That gives you five more chances to tell me why you want something outta my brother’s lab.”

The guy’s posture shifted into something far more confident and inexplicably inhuman as he burst into a long, mocking fit of laughter. The creep’s voice had completely changed the next time he spoke.

“OH, I SHOULDA KNOWN I COULDN’T PULL ONE OVER ON YOU, STANLEY PINES!”

“What, am I supposed to be impressed you know my real name? We already established you’re from the future, and even if that wasn’t the case, I’m pretty sure Soos has spread that gossip through half the town by now.”

“WELL, WE BOTH KNOW YOU CAN’T KEEP ON GOING BY ‘STANFORD’ AFTER THE SUMMER ENDS. I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU GET USED TO IT.”

“Yeah. Drop the small talk and cut to the chase, bucko. I really don’t wanna shoot you after my niece asked me not to.”

“OK, OK. IT’LL PROBABLY COME AS NO SURPRISE TO YOU THAT YOUR BROTHER’S IN OVER HIS HEAD WITH ONE OF HIS PROJECTS.” The creep pressed a button on his watch and a hologram of what Stan could only describe as massively over-designed snowglobe appeared. “IT’S A TEAR IN TIME AND SPACE. HE’S TRYING TO KEEP THE THING FROM GOING CRITICAL, BUT HE CAN’T DO IT ON HIS OWN. HE’S TRYING TO SEAL IT NOW, BUT IT’S GOING TO RUPTURE. HOWEVER, IF YOU CAN GET IT TO ME BEFORE HE SEALS IT…”

“Uh-huh. And what’re you gonna do with it?”

“TAKE IT TO THE FUTURE, WHERE WE HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY TO CONTAIN IT, OF COURSE!”

“So why don’t you just ask him for it yourself?”

“HAH! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW HOW STUBBORN AND PARANOID HE IS! HE’D NEVER LET ANOTHER PERSON TOUCH IT, HE HAS TO BE THE HERO ALL ON HIS OWN!”

“Yeah, you got a good point there. But I meant why don’t you ask him for it yourself when he bursts out this door in about ten seconds.”

* * *

The elevator ascent took entirely too long. It had to be at least two minutes since he heard the gunshot go off, which, depending on whether or not anyone sustained an injury, and what kind of injury it was, was time he didn’t have to waste.

As Ford rushed through the house to the front porch door, he was relieved to note that Mabel was perfectly safe, just peeking anxiously out the front window. But the observation did nothing to slow him down. Through the window he could see Stan on the porch, holding what appeared to be the offending firearm. The gun was pointed at an unfamiliar figure. What was familiar was the figure’s voice. Ford pushed past Mabel and threw the door open, one hand already on his own blaster.

“Bill!!” He cried as he lept dramatically onto the porch, drawing his blaster with a flourish. Stan was looking at him with a smug grin, obviously he’d heard his brother running through the house. Bill, for once, looked surprised. But he quickly regained his composure.

“WELL, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL! I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HERE FOR, SIXER!”

“You’re too late, Bill, I already sealed the rift!”

Ford was satisfied to see that for the second time in under a minute, Bill looked shocked. “WHAT?!? WHAT--HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!? FIRST SHOOTING STAR DOESN’T SHOW IN THE WOODS WHEN SHE’S SUPPOSED TO, NOW THIS!? IS SOME LESSER TIME BEING MESSING WITH ME TODAY?”

Bill removed his goggles, revealing the tell-tale glowing yellow eyes, which he rubbed with frustration before continuing, back in his usual mocking tone. “SO WHAT, DID YOU STEAL THE FATES’ SEWING KIT AND STITCH IT BACK TOGETHER YOURSELF? OR, OH DON’T TELL ME, YOU AND PINETREE WERE AT THE UFO EARLIER. YOU FILLED IT IN WITH SPACE GLUE, DIDN’T YOU? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES THAT STUFF TO SET? OF COURSE YOU DON’T, YOU NEVER TOOK THE TIME TO TEST IT! TYPICAL SIXER.”

Stanford blanched. No, he hadn’t tested it first. There hadn’t been time! “I-I know it will work! And it doesn’t matter how long it takes to set, you can’t reach it if it’s within the protection spell!”

“I SURE CAN’T!” Bill agreed with a smirk. “BUT I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO WHO CAN!” He turned to Stan “WHADDAYA SAY, MAC? CARE TO HELP ME STICK IT TO YOUR UNGRATEFUL BROTHER?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Stan growled. “And only I get to call him Sixer!”

Bill’s confident grin set into a forced grimace.

“HA.”

“WELL.”

“YOU PROBABLY THINK YOU’VE WON, DON’T YOU? WELL, GUESS AGAIN, LOSER! THIS ISN’T OVER! EVEN IF I CAN’T CROSS THAT BARRIER, I’VE STILL GOT PLENTY OF PAWNS IN THIS HICK TOWN! AND EVEN IF YOU SOMEHOW MANAGE TO KEEP THE RIFT LONG ENOUGH FOR THAT GLUE TO SET? I’VE BEEN WAITING BILLIONS OF YEARS FOR THIS! YOU THINK I CAN’T WAIT ANOTHER DECADE FOR SOME OTHER SCHMUCK TO COME ALONG AND BUILD A PORTAL!? YOU CAN’T STOP ME! AND I’LL MAKE SURE THE ENTIRE PINES FAMILY REGRETS EVER CROSSING BILL CIPHER!”

Bill pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash.

The elder Pines twins stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the empty space Bill had just left as if they could still see the anger and hatred radiating from it.

Stan, of course, was the first one to speak again. “We gotta talk.”

Ford just nodded solemnly, and followed him inside.

* * *

After Stan finally convinced Mabel to go inside, she’d waited silently, peeking out the nearest window. Stan had probably wanted her to go someplace where she couldn’t hear or see what was happening, but she just had to know everyone was going to be ok. She didn’t want her Grunkle or Blendin to get hurt, even if the time traveler was acting weirder than usual.

The air froze in her lungs when she heard Bill’s voice come out of Blendin’s mouth. She wanted to run back out there and warn Stan, but he’d asked her to go inside for her own safety, and Stan hadn’t trusted the time traveler from the beginning, so he would probably be fine… right?

Luckily she didn’t have to wait by the window worrying for long. Less than a minute later, Ford came crashing and banging down the hall. His serious glare lightened to relief for the split second he spared his niece a glance, but then snapped right back to blazing fury as he kicked the door open. Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. If anyone could handle Bill showing up at their front door, it was Grunkle Ford.

She peeked back out the window and watched as her Grunkles exchanged words with Bill. They both approached the problem very differently. Ford was yelling with a bravado that faltered the minute Bill pointed out a flaw in his plan. Stan was treating Bill much like he had Gideon. Outwardly, he seemed calm and unworried, but the fact that he’d sent Mabel inside and fired a gun showed he took the threat seriously.

Bill’s last threat before he time traveled away sent a chill down Mabel’s spine. She remembered the last time she’d crossed paths with the demon. The note he’d left for her in Grunkle Stan’s car. She couldn’t let Dipper down like that again, couldn’t let him get hurt like that again. They needed each other now more than ever.

Of course, it was some reassurance to know that the barrier spell Grunkle Ford had created was obviously working. That was probably the only reason Bill hadn’t marched right up the porch steps and taken her himself. Mabel was doubly glad she’d been able to get that unicorn hair now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Stan and Ford came back inside. Ford stopped like he’d just remembered something when he saw Mabel still sitting there.

“I left Dipper hiding down in the lab! I need to go let him know what happened.”

Stan folded his arms impatiently. “Alright, but make it quick, and if you’re not back up here in ten minutes, I’m coming down after you. I’m serious about that talk.”

Mabel decided to follow Ford down to the secret lab. She was suddenly very concerned about Dipper and his whereabouts. Ford didn’t seem to mind; he just gave her a tired smile when they both stopped at the vending machine to input the code. As the two of them got into the elevator, Mabel wondered if this was a good time to confront her Grunkle about the apprenticeship he’d offered Dipper. But no, Mabel was pretty sure she’d just get mad again, and she didn’t want to feel mad right now. She just wanted to be sure her family was safe. So the elevator ride passed in an uncomfortable silence.

When they arrived in the lab, it appeared empty. Only after Ford stepped out of the elevator and past an oozing pink orb on the floor did Dipper emerge from his hiding spot. It was a pretty good hiding spot, behind what looked like a periscope designed to look like part of the totem pole outside.

“Mabel!” The boy rushed to hug her immediately. “What happened? Wh-where’s Grunkle Stan, is he alright?”

“Stan is fine, he’s just waiting upstairs.” Ford assured him. “Bill came possessing a time travel agent.”

“He was pretending to be Blendin!” Mabel elaborated. “He wanted me and Grunkle Stan to get something out of the lab for him to stop something terrible from happening in the future!”

“Luckily, Stan recognized him as a threat.” Ford continued. “That was the gunshot we heard earlier.”

Dipper paled and pulled at his hair. “Ohmigosh, did Grunkle Stan kill Blendin!?”

Ford actually chuckled as he got down on one knee and placed a comforting hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “It was just a warning shot. Don’t worry, nobody got hurt. But Bill was furious when I told him I’d sealed the rift. I’m afraid we’re not done protecting it yet.”

“What’s this rift you keep talking about?” Mabel asked. “And what’s that sparkly pink ball of glitter-glue in the middle of the floor?”

“I’ll explain once we get back upstairs. Stan has made it quite clear he wants to talk about what’s going on.” Ford assured her.

* * *

They found Stan waiting in the gift shop, leaning against the checkout counter and tapping his foot in an agitated rhythm.

“Finally. Now you two kids go to your room, the grown-ups have to have a talk.”

“Stanley, they deserve an explanation just as much as you do! Besides, Dipper already knows.”

“Of course he already knows, you asked the kid to stay here without ever botherin’ to talk to anybody else about it!”

“Who even told you… what does this have to do with the rift?”

“Rift? Wha-- I don’t care what you an’ pudgy out there were yellin’ about, I wanna know how come you’re askin’ your 12-year-old nephew to move in!”

Ford rolled his eyes and groaned with frustration. And here he thought they were finally on the same page for once. “That hardly matters right now! Stopping Bill and protecting the rift should be our top priority! Now, I’m sorry I kept this from the two of you up until now, but I honestly thought it would be safer if you knew as little as possible.Obviously, just the opposite was true.” He omitted the fact that he’d been reluctant to let Mabel know about the rift after seeing her break an entire shelf-full of snow globe souvenirs in the gift shop.

“Don’t try an’ change the subject, Sixer!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at his brother.

“Grunkle Stan, this is more important!” Dipper interjected exasperatedly.

Mabel tugged at the old conman’s sleeve. “They’re right.” Mabel agreed gently. “Besides, I want to know what’s going on and why Bill was here.”

“Fine.” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. “But we’re havin’ this conversation later, no gettin’ out of it!”

They all had a seat around the card table in the den, and Ford began his explanation. “Bill Cipher is an extradimensional being trying to break his way into our world. Dipper and Mabel have already encountered him--”

“I read all your Journals, genius, I know who Bill Cipher is.” Stan snapped. “But I thought he was some annoying triangle guy who showed up in your dreams, not some pushy time traveler.”

“If you read my Journals thoroughly” Ford said testily, “You’d know he’s capable of tricking people into allowing him to possess them.”

Stan grimaced, probably remembering a few particular passages from Journal 3. “Oh.”

“Not long after I first came to Gravity Falls, I was stupid enough to let Bill trick me. He convinced me that building a portal to another dimension would give me the answers I sought, but what he really wanted was to bring his dimension, the Nightmare Realm, into ours.”

“Yeah, but… then Grunkle Stan got you out of there and the portal was super broken, so we don’t have to worry about him anymore, right?” Mabel asked uncertainly, holding vainly onto hope.

“No.” Ford replied with an icy glare at his brother. “Stanley’s reckless operation of the portal created a rift: an unstable hole in space and time that Bill could use to enter our dimension and plunge the world into a bizarre doomsday I call ‘Weirdmaggedon’.”

Stan snorted. “Still got a flair for names, huh?”

“Stanley, would you take this seriously!?”

“What? I heard you say earlier you sealed the rift, and then that jerk exploded. He wouldn’t’ve gotten mad like that unless what you did really screwed with his plans. From what he was sayin’ I’d guess we’ve got another decade at least until we have to deal with that guy.”

“If the rift is sealed properly, then yes, we’ll have bought some time while Bill searches for another pawn to manipulate, but after what he said earlier, I’m afraid the alien adhesive I used to seal it won’t set as quickly as I had hoped, leaving the rift vulnerable.”

“Eh, he was just sayin’ that to psych you out.” Stan waved his hand dismissively.

“Wait, alien adhesive? Is that what that glass ball of glitter-glue was?” Mabel asked.

“That was the containment unit I was using to keep the rift stable. Once it started cracking, I began searching for something to close it up for good. Just earlier today, Dipper and I were able to retrieve the adhesive without any trouble. I sealed up the rift with glue, then filled the containment dome, just to be safe.”

Mabel slapped her forehead. “Grunkle Ford, haven’t you ever heard of ‘A Little Dab’ll Do Ya’?”

“What?” Ford asked in confusion.

“When you’re using glue, you only use just enough to get things to stick together!” Mabel explained. “If you use too much, it’ll take forever to dry! If I filled whole ball with Schmelmer’s glue like that, I don’t think it’d ever dry!”

“Can’t you just spray it with a setting agent?” Stan asked. Everyone stared at him in surprise. “What? I use a lot of crafting glue makin’ exhibits for the Shack!”

“I couldn’t use a two-part epoxy because the energy of the chemical reaction would destabilize the rift.” Ford shook his head. “It needs to crystalize naturally, or it will leave seams in time-space that Bill could use.”

“Well, how long will it take to crystalize naturally?” Dipper asked.

Ford hesitated. “I had hoped it would take a little over 24 hours, but…”

“Not if it’s trapped inside a ball like that.” Mabel shook her head. “Can you get it out?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose frustratedly. “I’d have to chip away the dome. It’s not just glass, it’s a special substance as strong as steel. But, it has already started cracking, I suppose if I can expand those cracks enough…”

“So, are we still in danger of the rift destabilizing?” Dipper asked.

“Not spontaneously, no.” Ford assured him. “I wouldn’t recommend using it as a football or anything, but even when wet, the adhesive will act as a binding agent and keep the hole in time-space closed. It would take a large burst of energy, or deliberately trying to pierce through the rift in order to open it.”

“And that’s probably what Bill’s gonna try to do.” Dipper said gravely.

“Well we’re not gonna let him!” Mabel declared, slamming her fist down on the table.

“That’s the spirit!” Ford allowed himself a small smile. He pulled out Journal 3 and turned to a blank page. “Bill said he still had pawns in Gravity Falls. We need to make a list of potential threats to be on the look-out for. Who would be most likely to work with Bill?”

“Gideon!” Mabel answered immediately. “Me and Soos saw him summon Bill earlier this summer!”

“Soos and I.” Ford corrected automatically. He’d only heard about this Gideon from a couple of entries Dipper had added to Journal 3. All he knew about the kid was that he’d apparently had romantic interests in Mabel, hired McGucket to build a giant mech-bot of himself, and was now in jail. It was also clear from the entries that Dipper did not have a high opinion of him.

“That little troll’s in jail, what’s he gonna do? Use his one phone call to prank us?” Stan rolled his eyes.

“With Bill’s help, there’s no telling what he could do from behind bars.” Ford warned. “But, Stanley does have a point. Are there any other possible pawns who would have easier access to the outside world?”

They all sat there thinking for a moment before Dipper offered his own answer. “I remember seeing a tapestry with Bill on it in the Northwest’s mansion. I don’t know if they realized what it is though, I think they just buy up any local Native American artefacts on principle. It makes them look like they care about the people, when really they’re just trying to keep how horrible Nathaniel Northwest was from getting out and ruining their image.”

“The Northwests have a lot of power over this town. If Bill is working with one of them, protecting the rift will be all the more difficult..” Ford said somberly.

“Luckily, we have an insider with the Northwests!” Mabel grinned. “I’ll call Pacifica tomorrow and ask her to come over and hang out! We can ask her if she’s noticed anything weird about her family then!”

“Good.” Ford nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Eh… pretty sure Toby Determined would sell his soul for a date with Shandra Jimenez.” Stan grunted.

“Noted.” Ford jotted down all their suggestions before continuing. “These are all people we should keep an eye on, but they’re also the most obvious answers… aside from this Toby fellow. Bill will undoubtedly know we suspect them. He doesn’t just work with dangerously unhinged people. Think, is there anyone you wouldn’t normally suspect, who Bill could trick into helping him? Someone with access to this house?”

The three other Pines around the tabel all shared a glance and shrugged.

“Soos is pretty impressionable, but he was there with us when we drove Bill out of Stan’s mind. He knows that triangle guy is bad news.” Mabel answered. “What about Wendy?”

“No way!” Dipper replied vehemently. “Wendy’s way too smart to fall for Bill’s tricks!”

“Unfortunately, being smart has very little to do with it.” Ford reminded him.

“Y-yeah, but…” Dipper stammered. “She’s a different kind of smart! She’s really skeptical and good at reading people. She could tell I had a crush on her, even though I never said anything!”

Mabel giggled. “That’s because you were really obvious, bro-bro.”

The boy blushed. “Well, what about your friends?”

“You mean Candy and Grenda?” Mabel asked. “I don’t think so. I told them about Bill when we went to get the unicorn hair.”

“Then you would have told Wendy about him too!”

“Oh yeah!” Mabel remembered. “I’m not sure she believed me though. She definitely didn’t believe in unicorns before we found one.”

“Well, that’s everyone who comes here on a regular basis.” Stan leaned back in his chair. “Besides, y’know, the dozens of tourists who come through the gift shop every day.”

Ford paled. “All he would have to do is convince one tourist… Stanley why on Earth did you think it was a good idea to build a gift shop in the same room as the lab entrance!?”

“The best hiding spots are always in plain sight, genius!” Stan retorted. “You don’t gotta worry, tourist season is wrappin’ up, traffic’s gone down a lot. Shouldn’t be too hard to keep an eye on things.”

“You’re out giving your so-called ‘tours’ half the time.”

“Then I’ll ask Soos to keep an eye on the entrance.”

“No, he’s far too easily distracted. I’ll stay in the gift shop and guard the entrance.” Ford insisted.

Stan rolled his eyes. “That’s just gonna draw attention to it, knucklehead! Look, I got security cameras. If you really gotta watch the vending machine every minute, you can watch the video feed from my office.”

“Fine.”

“Welp, would you look at that! We’ve discussed who the heck Bill Cipher is, what he wants, and what we’re gonna do about it!” Stan stood up from his chair abruptly. “Guess this conversation’s over. And would you look at the time! Time to get you kids up to bed!”

“But it’s still light out!” Dipper protested.

“The sun sets really late out here in the summer. You don’t know what time it is!” Stan began to push the kids out of the room.

“I have a watch! It’s only like 7:30!”

Stan quickly swiped the watch off his nephew’s wrist. “What watch? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. It’s bedtime!”

The young twins, seeing that trying to reason with Stan at this point was an exercise in futility, reluctantly allowed themselves to be shepherded upstairs.

In the short amount of time while they were gone, Stanford found his mind wandering back to one particular thing Bill had said.

“I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO WHO CAN! WHADDAYA SAY, MAC? CARE TO HELP ME STICK IT TO YOUR UNGRATEFUL BROTHER?”

Bill was a liar. Of course this was a lie too, right? Stan didn’t hate him, right? Stan had immediately turned Bill down, after all. That might just be because he knew Bill was dangerous though… because he just wanted to protect the kids….

“Alright, you’d better have one heck of an explanation.” Stan returned and Ford was reminded of just why he was so mad at his brother.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to invite someone to move into my own house!”

“It’s not my permission you need! Have you even talked to their parents yet?”

“Well, no…” Ford admitted. “But it’d be a waste of time to ask them if it turns out Dipper isn’t interested. And besides, I’m sure they’d be thrilled at the opportunity to accelerate their son’s education.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You don’t know their mom, Poindexter. She expects a letter from her kids every week.”

“Well, I’m sure we could keep up that tradition.”

“And every time she calls lately, she’s been goin’ on and on about how excited she is to see her ‘little lamby’ again. She’s not gonna be thrilled her son isn’t coming home.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “You make it sound as if he’s going to die! We’ll make time to go visit the family between projects, and I know communications technology has made huge advancements in the last 30 years. I saw your handyman communicating via a two-way video stream just last night.”

“That’s not the same as him actually being there!” Stan shouted. “He’s still just a kid, Stanford! He still needs his parents!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll call their parents and talk to them about it!” Ford relented. “Is that all?”

“No that’s not all!” Stan fumed, “It’s bad enough you’re offering Dipper an apprenticeship without gettin’ an OK from their parents first, but where do you get off excluding Mabel?”

Ford was taken aback. “I’m not excluding her.”

“You gave Dipper an opportunity to stay here with you, but not her. That’s pretty much the definition of excluding! Earlier today she was almost in tears about having to leave Gravity Falls and bein’ scared of the future. I had to give her a big ol’ pep-talk about how growin’ old is mandatory, but growin’ up is optional, and that even if her future ain’t so bright, at least she’s got her brother. Then, not even an hour later, you two come back from your science shenanigans and she goes wailing out to the front porch! All ‘cuz you want Dipper but not her!”

“It’s not like that at all!” Ford bristled. “Mabel has vastly different interests than Dipper. I couldn’t provide her with the same kind of quality education I could give him! At best I could give her a few tips about detailed pen sketching and blueprint drafting. The most I know about knitting is that I feel comfortable in a soft sweater, and she’d have to be the one to teach me about social structure and modern culture.”

“Oh, so that makes it ok to take her brother away?”

“I’m not ‘taking him away’! Dipper would be free to visit his family in California whenever he’s not busy!” Ford flushed with anger. “And since I’ll be his only teacher, he’ll be able to request time off and breaks very easily. His schedule will be much more flexible than at a traditional university or college.”

“He’s freakin’ twelve Stanford! He hasn’t even finished Junior High yet! Why are you so eager to start him on grown-up school already?”

“Why wait? Dipper is intelligent, resourceful, and a fast learner. He’d already started following in my footsteps before we even met, I’m just helping him continue on that path. And it’s not ‘grown-up school’. We’d be studying and researching the weirdness of Gravity Falls together.”

“He’s not an adult, Ford, he still needs time to be a kid! He can’t be your new research assistant! Now answer my question: why can’t you just wait until he’s older?”

“Because I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Ford’s last statement hung in the air, reverberating like a pin dropped in an empty theater. The old researcher couldn’t believe his emotions had gotten the better of him like that. Just like that, a statement he wasn’t even comfortable admitting to himself had slipped out. He couldn’t even begin to defend or explain what he’d just said.

Stan’s eyes widened at the unexpected outburst, but his face quickly morphed back into the scowl Stanford was all too familiar with.

“Oh, you don’t wanna be alone, huh? Well, maybe you shoulda thought of that before you kicked me out of the house come the end of Summer!”

“Wait, what?” Ford asked, perplexed.

“Oh, don’t play dumb!” Stan accused. “That first night after I brought you home, you said I could stay here the rest of the summer to watch the kids, then I gotta hit the road.”

“That’s not what I said!” Ford objected. “I said you could stay upstairs and take care of the kids and run your ‘Mystery Shack’ until the end of the summer, so you can continue bringing in enough money to take care of them. But once the summer is over, I want-- no, I need my home and my identity back. And I’m not going to allow you to continue running a glorified freak show that goes against everything I’ve worked for!”

“And why would I stay, if you’re gonna make me shut down my livelihood?”

Ford’s breath hitched as the memory of Bill’s words echoed in his head once again. I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO.

“Well, for one, I’m going to need your help undoing your identity theft.” The old researcher continued after pushing the thought to the back of his head. “And… I know you haven’t got anywhere else to go. I’m not going to just throw you out. I’m not Dad, Stanley.”

Stan stared at his brother with a mixture of surprise and some more complex emotions Ford couldn’t name.

“Y-yeah, well…” The old conman seemed, for once, to be at a loss for words.

Ford just wished he knew what his brother was thinking. The old researcher had never been good at reading people, but as a child, Stan, at least, was someone he always understood. But now, his brother was even more of an enigma than the average stranger. Ford found himself on the verge of asking… do you really hate me?

“Dang it, this isn’t about us!” Stan snapped, “Stop making this about us! It’s about the kids!”

“I’m making it about us? You’re the one who started complaining about something I didn’t even say!” Ford huffed a frustrated sigh. He was tired. Tired from a long day and tired of fighting. “Look, if this whole apprenticeship thing is bothering Mabel so much, I’ll talk to her about staying here too. I can’t give her the kind of education she needs, but perhaps I can find someone who can.”

Stan threw his hands up in disbelief. “Seriously!? Unbelievable! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said, this whole conversation!?”

“Obviously I have, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed with your demands to call the kids’ parents and include Mabel in the apprenticeship offer. Nor would I have caught your erroneous assumption that you have the leave at the end of the summer.”

“The whole point I’ve been tryin’ to make to you this whole time is that ya can’t just take these kids away from their home!”.

“I’m not taking them away from their home. You said the two of them have been here for over two months.”

“Yeah, and then they’re goin’ back home next weekend. To their parents. To their real lives.”

“Life is just as real here.” Ford said with finality. “I told you, I’ll talk to their parents tomorrow. That should settle it.”

Stan’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, yeah I guess it will.”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Bill Cipher #My Writing

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Mess We’ve Made

Chef AU

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I just finished watching Oh my ghost and got inspired to write this honestly it’s such an amazing k drama if you haven’t already seen it go watch it that is some GOOD SHIT RIGHT THERE I NEED ME A KANG SUNWOO

“Aw chef, come on. Just admit it. I’ve gotten a lot better. The customer wanted to talk to you personally to tell you how amazing my pasta dish was. Why can’t you just acknowledge my growth-“ before you could finish your sentence, a loaf of bread was being shoved in to your mouth. You’ve been bothering Mark about the compliment you received earlier that morning for the entire day and he was ultimately regretting his decision of telling you. You took a bite of the bread before throwing it back at him and frowning. Just as you were about to continue your rant, he looked around to see if anyone else was in the kitchen before quickly placing a soft kiss against your lips.

“Your pasta was perfect my apprentice. There, happy?” Warmth rose to your cheeks and you felt a smile creep on to your lips. You nodded your head in agreement before stealing one more kiss. He brought his fingers up to your cheeks and gently squeezed them while admiring the rest of your features that he loved so much. “I don’t understand why you still need my approval. You already know how amazing you are. If you keep up the good work, I’ll need to start taking lessons from you here pretty soon.”

You rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your station. Around seven months ago, you graduated from culinary school and found yourself looking for a job. That’s how you stumbled upon Mark’s restaurant while job hunting. Mark’s sous chef Jackson was the one who interviewed you and hired you right off the bat, saying that you were exactly what they had been looking for. You decided to do your research on the restaurant before accepting the job and it was in those few days that you found yourself falling for the handsome and very talented chef. But as soon as you first started working there, things did not go the way you thought they would.

Like most chefs, Mark was a perfectionist. He tasted every single dish prepared by anyone other than himself before allowing it to get sent out. If he didn’t think it was good enough to present to the customers, he’d throw away the plate of food automatically. Even if you had graduated with your masters degree in culinary, that didn’t mean anything to Mark. You had to start from the bottom and work your way to the top. He had you start off as a dishwasher and although you were upset that you Mark was treating you as if you didn’t just go through years of culinary school, you kept your mouth shut and did what you were told. But after a while, you grew tired of everyone in the restaurant acting as if you had no idea what to do when it came to cooking. Therefore, you decided to break the rules.

One day, when nobody was paying attention, you prepared a meal and had it sent out. When the customer had asked Jackson to speak to the chef who made it, nobody in the kitchen had any clue what he was talking about and that’s when you hesitantly rose your hand. Instead of being upset with you for going against what you were told to do, he picked you up in a bear hug and spun you around. “I knew I did the right thing in hiring you. We need to get Mark to try one of your dishes so you can stop being the bus girl and start impressing our customers.” You were over the moon. Your food was finally being recognized and you couldn’t be more happier. That was until Mark found out what you had done. He was upset with the fact that you broke the rules and you had a hard time understanding as to why. Shouldn’t he have been proud that a customer spoke so highly of you? As you were packing up to go home after you were finished with work, you overheard Mark and Jackson talking in Mark’s office.

“Come on Mark. What’s wrong man? She’s definitely talented in the kitchen and I’m sure the poor thing is tired of being a dishwasher. At least bump her up to prep cook or something. What’s stopping you from promoting her? She does everything you ask her to and never bothers you. If you keep treating her like this, she’ll leave.”

You heard the older chef release out a sigh of frustration. “She went against the rules Jackson. My rules. And whose to say she won’t do it again? If she were to wait just a few more days then maybe-“ as you were listening to the two men argue, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. It was as if Mark didn’t have a genuine reason to keep treating you this way. He was making up excuses and you decided you were no longer going to put up with this kind of treatment. You didn’t go through all the blood, sweat and tears back in culinary school for nothing. Sure, you were fully aware that you weren’t going to become the head chef of a restaurant right after graduating, but you didn’t think one would act so rudely towards you. You had enough of Mark’s unpleasant behavior. That’s why you found yourself storming in to the office.

“I’m sorry, I don’t normally do things like this, but I know my worth and I refuse to continue working here knowing that I’m not getting the treatment I deserve. I’m a chef for God’s sake. Not a fucking dishwasher. It’s been two months and that’s all I’ve been doing and I’m sick of it. Did I do something to upset you chef? Is there something you don’t like about me? Because I’d be willing to change it just so I can do what I signed up to be here for. But if I’m going to continue to wash those stupid dishes, I’ll find somewhere else to work. Someplace where my talent and hard work will be appreciated.”

Before Mark could respond, you rushed out of the door. It felt good letting all of that off your chest, but now you were afraid of losing your job. Both Mark and Jackson were left stunned. Did you really just say that? They didn’t know someone as quiet and obedient as you was capable of such an outburst like that.

”See what you did? You asshole, now she’s mad. I wouldn’t be surprised if she quits and becomes a high renowned chef somewhere else all because of your negative feelings towards her. I don’t hire just anybody, you know that. I saw something in her. Sucks you couldn’t.” Jackson left the office, leaving Mark alone with his thoughts. When you got home that night, you plopped on to your couch and sighed. Did all of that really just happen? Did you really tell off your boss like that? It didn’t matter to you anymore. You would just find out your fate tomorrow morning when you’d go in to work. As you were falling asleep, you felt your phone vibrate. A part of you was exhausted and didn’t care about who it was that was trying to get in touch with you, but you found yourself looking anyway.

Chef: Be at the restaurant tomorrow at 6 A.M.

You scoffed at his dull message, especially because he had nothing to say as he watched you leave. But a part of you was also pretty excited to see why he wanted you to go in so early. The next morning, you woke up a few hours earlier than you normally did and started getting ready to head over to the restaurant.

When you walked in, you saw Mark standing in the kitchen and your breath hitched when you realized that he was wearing a tank top and sweats. Why did he have to be so attractive yet so cold towards you? Once Mark noticed you, he nodded in your direction and waited for you to put your things down. After you were done, you hesitantly walked towards him and waited for his command. For someone who had a bunch of confidence the night before, you don’t know why you were acting so shy and ready to be scolded for your sudden outburst.

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior as of lately. I’m really not a mean guy. I’m just very passionate about my restaurant and being a chef. I’m sorry for being such an asshole towards you. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I promise I’ll be better. Um..do you think we could start over?”

Wow. You weren’t expecting him to apologize. Mark didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing and you knew it probably took a lot for him to do so. You smiled politely at him and nodded in agreement.

“I’d like that.”

He motioned for you to stand next to him and let you know what the two of you were going to be doing. “This is our most popular item here. I’m going to teach you how to make it, then you’re going to recreate it. Okay?” He thoroughly showed you the process of making the beef dish and when he had you try it, you could see why it was so popular. He smirked while watching you try the food. Little did you know, the reason why Mark tried so hard to stay away from you and was so cold towards you was because he had developed feelings for you. When he became a chef, he vowed to put his entire focus on his career. This meant that there was no time for a relationship. But he wasn’t surrounded by anyone who would interfere with his work ethic in the first place, so it didn’t matter. That was until you came walking through his restaurant with your bright eyes, beautiful smile and bubbly personality.

In only the first few weeks of knowing you, he starting falling for your patience, kindness, obedience and how you were in love with anything and everything that had to deal with the culinary arts. You also reminded him of himself when he first got in to cooking. He was quite fond of how quick you were to do whatever he asked of you and how you were so willing to learn new things. He also thought you were the prettiest girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, so the fact that you were everything Mark could want and more in a potential girlfriend made things difficult for him. No matter how much he liked you, he refused to let a girl get in the way of everything he’s worked so hard for. He was quickly broken out of his thoughts when he felt your dainty little fingers tap his shoulder.

“Chef, I’m done.” He looked at you in shock. Was he that deep in thought that his mind completely went blank and missed the entirety of your cooking demonstration? Mark took a look at your dish and he was pretty impressed. He was also upset that he doubted you so early on before getting to see what you were capable of. As he went to take a bite, you felt anxiety building up and minutes felt like hours waiting for his response. When you saw his blank expression, your heart sank until a grin rose upon his handsome face. You were in shock when you saw him pick up the plate and continued to eat it until it was all gone. If this is what success felt like, you wanted to feel this all the time.

“Was it okay?” He quietly chuckled at how shy you were acting and gave you a thumbs up.

“It was amazing. Honestly, I think it was better than mine. Jackson is going to have some competition here. Y/n, if you’d like, I want you to be my apprentice. Don’t get me wrong, this was really good. But there’s a lot I’d like to teach you..if you’re okay with that?” You quickly nodded your head as butterflies filled your tummy at the thought of working alongside Mark.

From that day on, you stuck to his side like glue. Almost every morning, he would teach you how to make dishes on the menu and sometimes you guys would experiment with other chef’s dishes. In the first few weeks of learning from Mark, you realized what a generous and very kind person he was and you found yourself falling for him even more than you already had. He began taking you with him when he ran errands and the thought of him choosing to bring you out of all your coworkers made your heart flutter. You noticed how he started getting closer and closer to you with each and every practice session and it only made things harder for you because you wanted more. But deep down, you knew the two of you could never be anything other than colleagues. However, one night, everything changed between the two of you.

Mark had asked you to stay after work so he could teach you a new dish he just came up with and you didn’t think anything of it. He had you cut the vegetables while he prepared everything else. To his dismay, you were going all too slow for his liking, so he found himself walking over to you in attempts to help you cut faster. When you felt him behind you, your breath hitched. Sure, there were gentle touches shared here and there during your sessions, but this was the closest the two of you have gotten before.

“Let me help you.” One of his hands grabbed your wrist while the other wrapped around your arm. He began cutting the vegetables quicker than you were and you felt pretty embarrassed about it. As you felt his warm breath against your neck, you felt shivers run down your spine and you could only wonder if being in this position had the same affect on Mark as it did on you. You couldn’t see, but Mark was grinning widely. He loved how it felt holding you and wished he could grow the balls to tell you how he felt. He wanted nothing more than to admit his feelings for you. To tell you that the mere thought of you brought happiness to his heart and your voice alone could make his entire day. He wanted you to know how much you meant to him and how he quickly fell for you in the few weeks of practicing together. But he was a coward and he was afraid that you didn’t feel the same.

When you noticed he stopped cutting the vegetables but continued to hold your hand, you were confused. You slowly tried to pull your hand away but he only tightened his grip.

“Mark-“ he turned you around to face him and took in a deep breath.

“Can I kiss you? Please? I really need to kiss you.” You bit your lip before nodding in agreement and soon you were being lifted and placed on to the counter as his lips connected with yours. His lips were soft and tasted like a mix of strawberry chapstick and salt from the meal you had just made. You decided that combination was your new favorite thing because it now reminded you of him. Your hands made their way in to his soft and fluffy hair as his went down to your hips, all but gently gripping on to them. He kissed you as if his life depended on it and the feeling sent fire to your bones. To your dismay, he suddenly pulled away and placed his forehead against yours.

“What are you doing to me?” As you were about to speak, he crashed his lips against yours, already missing the feeling of your lips on his. Soon, things were getting hot and heavy between the two of you and you could feel him against your thigh.

“Mmm..y/n-“ you nibbled on his ear to rile him up some more and to let him know that you wanted this just as much as he did. Before you could process what was going on, he picked you up from off the counter and threw you over his shoulder whilst playfully slapping your cute little butt. He brought you in to his office and slowly placed you on his desk.

“If I’m being honest, right after you stormed in here and confronted me for treating you like shit, I couldn’t stop thinking about having you like this. I wanted to fuck that dirty mouth of yours and show you how much of an effect you have on me. God y/n. I’ve liked you the moment you walked in to this restaurant. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. The reason why I was always so rude to you was because I didn’t want to fall for you. All my time is spent on being a chef and I didn’t want anyone getting in the way of that. But I’m willing to make an exception. For you. I want to be with you. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me.”

You pulled him on top of you and started leaving chaste kisses all along his face. “I’m all yours.”

That night, he proved to you just how much he liked you with his head between your thighs, kissing, nibbling and sucking on your soft skin all the while bringing you to heaven multiple times. Once the two of you were done with your very passionate and steamy night of love making, he told you he would drop you home to your apartment. As he helped you get dressed, you noticed he put his shirt on you instead of your own and the idea made you smile.

“You really are the most beautiful girl ever. That was amazing, you are amazing, and you look really good in my shirt. You’re actually going to be the death of me y/n. I don’t think I want to drop you home tonight.” You giggled while grazing your fingers along his cheeks.

“Then don’t.” The smile that rose on his face made your heart flutter. He grabbed your things from and brought you towards his car. As you both were driving to his place, he intertwined your fingers together and brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against it.

“You and I are calling out sick tomorrow. I plan on having you again. And again. And again..Ow..That hurt..Okay! I’ll stop! But I want to stay in all day with you. I’ll make you breakfast in bed and we can watch some movies or something. I just want to be with you.” You smiled widely before placing a kiss on his nose.

“Hmmm, what will the boss say when he finds out I’m calling out sick just so we can have a lazy day?” He smirked at you and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I heard he really likes you, so I’m sure he’ll let it slide. Now come on baby, there’s a bath with our names on it.”

From that day on, the two of you had become a couple but decided to keep it between yourselves. Mark didn’t want anyone interfering with your relationship, nor did he want the other employees to treat you unfairly if they found out you were dating the boss. He was the perfect boyfriend. Every time went on a trip, visiting different restaurants across the world, he would buy you things that reminded him of you. He was also very patient, loving and considerate when it came to you.

When there were days at work when he was frustrated, he would ask you to come in to his office and have you hold him because your presence alone seemed to make all his worries go away. He never failed to make you laugh and smile and he made you feel as if you were the only girl in the entire world. Being the amazing chef he was, he would constantly cook for you and he even baked a few things here and there. Your cooking lessons continued, but most of the time, you hardly ever got to cook. The two of you were always so busy making out to really focus on the food. One time, he burnt cupcakes he was planning to surprise you with because he was so distracted with kissing you, but you didn’t have a problem with that. You loved spending as much time with Mark as you possibly could and you didn’t care what you both did, as long as you were with him you were happy.

“Yeah. I know. But it means a lot when you compliment me. Your opinion is the only one that matters to me.” He pecked your nose while reaching down to play with your fingers.

“Stop. I don’t think you understand the effect you have on my heart. You’re so adorable it’s actually really annoying.” You playfully pouted at him but your mood was quick to change when an idea came to your mind. In your peripheral vision, you could see a cup of flour on the counter and you found yourself picking it up and throwing at him. His grin soon turned in to a scowl when he realized what you had just done.

“You did not just do that. Get back over here y/n. You’re gonna get it.” You ran around the kitchen, scrambling to find something else to throw at him before he could do the same to you. Your mind was so focused on trying to run away, you failed to notice your boyfriend going the opposite way in order to scare you from behind. You felt something wet fall against your cheek and shrieked when you found out he had just cracked an egg on your head. Mark’s laughter echoed throughout the kitchen and you took this time to open the bottle of maple syrup and threw it against his chest.

“Y/n what the fuck?” The two of you continued to play your game of who can get who dirtier and in the end, you had won. Mark put his hands up and surrendered, especially because he had realized what a mess the two of you made in the kitchen.

“Oh, Mark. I’m so sorry-“ he shook his head while picking you up and placing you on the counter. This was now a regular thing between the two of you and you couldn’t stop thinking about the first time it happened. No matter how long the two of you were dating for, you would never get used to the feeling of him touching you. His fingers were one of your favorite body parts of his. They were so long and skinny, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t obsessed with them. He knew exactly what to do in order to bring you to sheer ecstasy with his fingers alone.

“Look at the mess we’ve made. How about we go get cleaned up and then clean up this kitchen?” You nodded in agreement as he placed a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and reached for your hand. “Hold on babe.” He bent down so he was eye level with your jaw and before you could ask him what he was doing, his tongue licked a long strip along your neck and the feeling sent warmth directly to your core. “You had whipped cream on your neck. I couldn’t help myself. You know how much I love whipped cream. Although, if I’m being honest, your cream is my favorite thing to eat..especially when it’s straight from the source..OW..what was that for?” As he brought you down from off the counter and pulled you towards his locker room, you stopped walking and gave him a knowing look.

“What are you doing? The ladies room is that way.” He rolled his eyes.

“Save water, shower together. I’m all about saving the earth babe. Now let’s go.” You pulled at his arm again and he released a sigh. “What now? It’s not like we haven’t showered together before. And I’ve seen you naked at least 50 times already. Why are you acting so shy? You weren’t shy last night when I took you up against the fridge..will you stop hitting me? Why aren’t you this aggressive in bed?”

You playfully punched his shoulder before finally allowing him to take you to his locker room. “What if someone sees?” Mark shook his head in disagreement.

“Nobody is here baby. I made sure of it. And if by chance someone still is, then good. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Especially Jackson. He’s been extra flirty with you lately. He needs to stay away from my girl.” You beamed up at him and you were pretty sure your cheeks were pink from hearing his sweet words. Although Mark complimented you practically every single day, hearing him call you his girl made your heart melt in to a puddle. It was also really cute whenever he would get jealous because he would always try his best not to show it. But deep down, the both of you knew you only had eyes for each other.

“You know, you actually owe Jackson one. I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t see something in me.”

He brought his fingers up to your bottom lip and playfully pinched it. “Yeah yeah yeah. He’s great. I made him my sous chef for a reason. Now hurry up. I’m trying to be that something inside of you now let’s go.”

#got7 imagines #got7 #got7 drabbles #got7 scenarios #got7 mark #mark tuan #man I want a chef mark wtf #got7 fluff

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ayo-cowbelly · 4 years

Text

when the fire goes out, how do we stay warm? part 3/?

previous part ~ next part ~

masterlist

today i’m serving up an entree of zygerrians being assholes, with a side of dark obi wan and angsty inner thoughts- enjoy!

First of all, the canon timeline has been taken out back and shot- so we’re currently just blindly driving through the year 20 BBY. For this universe, it has been about two months since the original zygerria mission (which happened at the same time as canon). Just for reference i guess.

ALSO, QUICK NOTE ABOUT UPDATES: school just started for me, along with other things, so updates are going to be weird for this story. There are just a lot of things going on in my life, including writing, so I can’t promise when I’ll be able to update- BUT IT WILL BE OFTEN! Just not on a set schedule/general time frame.

p.s. lines from the tatooine slave code the discord and i came up with are mentioned- you can find the whole thing at @newswcanonprompts

Obi-Wan has been periodically blacking out for about a week now. Maybe more, maybe less. He’s not actually sure how long it’s been. All he knows is that sometime, the Zygerrians had decided to tuck him away in this...

What could he call his new accommodations? It looks like an old dungeon- smells like one too. The walls are crumbling, and there’s a leaky crack on the ceiling that has been keeping Obi-Wan a bit entertained. He watches the water drops slide down the wall, making him dream of rain. He wishes to be outside, to be free.

For the first few weeks, when he was the queen’s attendant, he had been allowed to go wherever in the palace- as long as he followed the queen when she called. She probably allowed this small bit of freedom to show everyone her new Jedi pet. But then it all changed.

Obi-Wan had been in his “room” (a small closet-like space with a cushion and a little pot to relieve himself) when he heard shouting and running. Peeking outside, one of the queen’s guards caught sight of him and yelled something in Zygerrian; the guard then pressed a button and Obi-Wan’s collar shocked him into unconsciousness.

When Obi-Wan awoke, he was in this cave, his bare shoulders bleeding from where the guards must have dragged him. Usually, the queen’s attendants were dressed nicely, but Obi-Wan supposed he was a special case.

They starved him, dressed him in his torn clothes, made him look weak- a showcase of Queen Miraj’s power, her ability to beat even a Jedi into submission.

And Obi-Wan has been beaten. He knows it, the queen knows it, everyone on this blasted planet knows it. His muscles are pretty much depleted by now, his bones getting more and more frail every day- and his spirit was just as crushed. After learning (he learned through punishment; teaching was done with whips on this planet) to be quiet, he eventually accepted that this was no place for his well-known banter.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not a silent person. But, that is who he has to be, if he is to survive.

In his silence, he thinks of Anakin and hopes for his safety. He reflects on their only communication in the last few weeks, that one burst of emotion in their Force bond. Obi-Wan wishes he could tug on the bond, at least send Anakin an inkling of feeling, but it was impossible. He has no strength for such things, and if he did, he can’t try- Queen Miraj had put him in Force-dampening cuffs some time ago (they are rusted and old, probably because the queen was never lucky enough to have a Jedi in her grasp).

So he is left alone with nothing but a dreary cell and troubled questions for company.

Is Anakin alright? Does he know Obi-Wan is alive? Does he still have that horrible haunted look that plagues Obi-Wan’s nightmares, the one from the arena?

Is his brother free? Obi-Wan wonders that most often. He doesn’t know if Anakin is free, or if he’s just briefly escaped; then again, he also doesn’t know what exactly his former apprentice is running from. Chains? Nightmares? Fear? Darkness?

Or maybe those are all the same. At least, they seem to have become one in this blurry hell Obi-Wan is now living in.

The Darkness comes for him while he’s unconscious. Whenever the world fades, Obi-Wan is met with a black expanse that threatens to consume him.

He finds it harder and harder to push it away. In fact, Obi-Wan’s vision is starting to dim, his bleary eyes starting to close…

But before he goes under, the old metal door creaks open.

“Hello, Master Jedi,” The Zygerrian guard jeers, the mocking evident in his tone. Obi-Wan feels he has lost any right to that title (what Master would let their Padawan be treated so terribly, what Master would embrace Darkness while he sleeps?).

Obi-Wan just turns his head to the other man, fresh cuts on his cheek stinging from the movement. He does not reply.

“Thought you were a talker. ‘Guess not,” The guard remarks as he slides a dish of something gray-looking across the floor. Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize him, this must be the first time they’re meeting (he probably wanted a glimpse at the queen’s new Jedi pet). “No response? Fine.”

The Zygerrian leans cockily against the cell door, head tilted down to Obi-Wan’s pathetic body. “Can’t say I’m upset you’re quiet. I didn’t expect it- the newbies are always loud at first. It’s always so irritating, listening to their crying and screaming, but they learn soon enough.” The guard smiles wickedly, fingers tracing his whip. Obi-Wan has heard the screams in this place, the cries of children. He's watched as they go still, their tears giving way for the crack of a whip and their torturers’ cruel laughs.

Obi-Wan has been making himself numb for weeks. But as the guard drones on, his fangs glinting in the darkness, a wave of red-hot fury courses through the Jedi. It feels similar to that day in the arena, when he’d come so close to killing Queen Miraj- until Ahsoka stopped him.

Obi-Wan wishes he’d murdered her right there. A part of him wants to see the life in her eyes drain, and he wants it to be at his own hand. He wants to see her pay for what she did to Anakin, to Rex, to so many others- he will make her pay. Make her suffer-

Yes,something deep in him whispers. It’ll be easy. She will suffer. And when she dies, you will be the one to make her heart stop beating-

“Hey,” the guard’s raspy voice interrupts whatever had been filling Obi-Wan’s head. “Were your eyes always yellow-ish? I heard they were blue.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to make of that.

The sunlight burns his delicate skin. Obi-Wan blinks rapidly, as he is no longer used to the brightness of day (honestly, how long was he in that cell? Nobody will tell him- maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t know).

He is pushed roughly with a blaster. “Keep moving, scug,” one of his escorts, a particularly nasty-looking guard, says.

“Where-” Obi-Wan coughs, his voice scratchy. “Where are we going?”

“You’re going to see the queen.”

“Then why are we outside?”

“Did you really think your disgusting room was in the palace this whole time? If you think we treat our royalty like that, you’re more idiotic than I thought,” another guard sneers, sounding almost offended.

Obi-Wan sighs defeatedly. “I meant, why not just put me in a speeder and be done with it? Why parade me through the streets?”

The original guard, the one who pushed him, barks out a laugh. “Why do you think? Now shut up and walk.”

Obi-Wan realizes what the guard means. It's a show for the Masters. He can’t stop himself from looking around, making eye contact with the slave traders and their grins- they are all too happy at seeing a famous Jedi being led along in chains. Said Jedi wants to wipe the smiles off their faces, for they might think they are in power here, but he will show them what-

No, he thinks, recoiling from the Dark thoughts. Stop- don’t go there, Obi-Wan. He doesn’t want to think about his eyes, if they’re yellow or blue- he doesn’t want to, he wants the Dark to leave him alone-

Or does he?

Stop, stop, don’t think about it, GO AWAY- he screams in his mind, pushing the Dark away. It backs off for now, but Obi-Wan knows it will come back in his dreams.

They finally reach the palace, and the guards grab him by the arms to lead him inside. Their sharp nails drag across his skin, some even giving him more cuts- but instead of thinking about it, Obi-Wan prefers to be numb, so that is what he does. Sinking into the Force (which he can barely feel, due to the cuffs he still wears), he lets himself be pulled along.

Queen Miraj’s voice is what snaps him out of it. The blissful respite of the Force slinks away, despite Obi-Wan’s frantic grabs at it.

“Master Kenobi, it is wonderful to see you again,” she purrs, eyes raking over his battered form. Seeing an exceptionally angry gash on his arm, the queen smirks. “I hope you are enjoying your new room.”

He does not reply. He will not let her take his words; she has already taken his body, she will not have his voice. It is a lesson he has learned from the other slaves, one Anakin had drunkenly described years ago.

Though he was drunk, Anakin sounded almost poetic, but devoid of emotion- it was how he always seemed when talking about Tatooine. “Peace in Silence, Defiance in Demureness… They teach us to be quiet. Watch instead of speak. Watching is how we learn. And, if the Masters don’t have your voice, then they cannot truly win.”

Obi-Wan didn’t, and still doesn’t, want to know why those teachings sounded like a mantra, a code engraved into Anakin’s very being, even after being freed.

Can you ever wash away the sands of a slave?

How much of the Desert still lives inside Anakin?

Again, Obi-Wan doesn’t want to know.

The queen keeps talking. “No response? I thought you had better manners than that, Master Jedi.” They love to call him that, don’t they? The Masters love to remind him of his place. By calling him 'Master', they reaffirm the fact that it is they who are really in charge- he is nothing more than their toy.

He ignores the queen’s taunts. She cocks her head, brows narrowing. “You might be wondering why I summoned you here. I imagine you have many questions regarding your… new arrangements.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything, instead just keeping his eyes trained on her. He watches as she clenches her jaw. Her voice does not betray her growing irritation- she had been hoping for an outburst. “See, a bit of time ago, your little Republic friends came here. They broke into my dungeon, took that little Togruta you’re so fond of, and then left. They also took away my prize, your little Chosen One…”

Obi-Wan, who had been studying the wall, whips his head towards her. Forgetting to be quiet, he stutters, “They- they got Anakin-?”

Queen Miraj leers at him. “Yes, they did; just in time, too, I suppose. He was not going to make it much longer.”

A pink Twi’lek -probably the queen’s new attendant- is in the corner, staring intently at Obi-Wan. She is pressing her finger to her lips, signaling for him to be quiet. He ignores her. “What did you do to him?!”

The queen smiles smugly, annoyance forgotten. She motions for her guards to restrain Obi-Wan. Once he is firmly held down, she replies. “It was easy to see that he was once a slave. He was already cracking. But I broke him.” She sounds prideful, taking joy in the fact that she-

No. Anakin is strong. He’s alright. He is alright. He has to be alright.

“You cannot break Anakin. He is strong, stronger than you will ever be.” The Twi’lek in the corner is frantically shaking her head at him, neck rubbing against her shock collar. But Obi-Wan cannot get himself to quiet. Not now, not anymore.

“You think he is powerful? He is a slave, Kenobi. It doesn't matter where he is, who he calls Master- he will always be chained,” the queen snaps.

“He was freed.”

She laughs at his protests, eyes glinting. “You do not understand. A slave is never free, Jedi. You can shower him in love, titles, and luxury- but I know what a child of the Desert looks like. Tatooine is a cruel place; it has a certain way of… rooting itself in its children. Some of them end up here, and they are easily recognized. Skywalker is just like them, scarred and broken. They will only be free when Death claims them, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan pushes at the guards, trying to get to the queen. He wants to wipe that cruel smirk off her face, drown it in blood- “You’re wrong!”

“Look at how you refuse the truth- just like a Jedi. You know I am right. You know it, you see it in him, the cracks- and you never help, do you?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan grinds out, “is not a slave. He is a Jedi, he is free-”

The queen’s lip curls. “A slave,” she repeats, “is never free.”

The Darkness rises up in him, louder this time. It rushes through his head, pounding against his skull. It wants to be let loose- so he lets go. The cuffs start to snap, and he pushes outwards into the room. The queen is slowly pushed back at her throne, and if these rusty old cuffs will break Obi-Wan will be able to crush her skeleton against it-

Then, something slams into his head, and the world goes black again.

He wakes up to the throne room, but this time, it’s a bit different. For starters, he’s kneeling, held in place by two ropes attached to the walls. More guards fill the room, and now the prime minister is standing diligently by Miraj’s side, scowling at Obi-Wan.

His head throbs from where he was hit, blood trickling down his forehead. He looks down at his hands, seeing that they are now in cuffs that look brand-new.

“You dare try to attack me?” The queen snarls at him, slowly walking down her throne’s steps.

Obi-Wan looks at Miraj’s attendant, the pink Twi’lek. She is looking down, knowing what is coming.

“Learn your place, Jedi scum,” She says menacingly, nodding at something behind Obi-Wan. He tries to go numb, but these new cuffs work better; he can’t reach the Force at all. It is terrifying, and he can’t breathe, for now he is truly alone in this hell-

He dimly registers the crack of a whip being ignited. His stomach sinks as he hears the whip coming down, and then he is burning .

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #tcw #the clone wars #zygerria #clone wars fic #original character #star wars fic #writing #star wars writing #dark obi wan #sith obi wan #angst #star wars angst #clone wars angst

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missnight0wl · 4 years

Text

MC was supposed to attempt casting Crucio on Rakepick in the Portrait Vault

First of all, this post IS NOT about that MC should’ve used it because Rakepick deserved it for betraying Jacob, torturing Merula, and whatnot. For one, I still believe that Rakepick didn’t do anything to Jacob (except maybe helped him). For two, in this scenario, Merula wouldn’t even be tortured, so…

Secondly, this idea comes from @wilhelminafujita And the more we discussed it together, the more sense it made for the overall story. Therefore, I decided to collect it all in one post. I tweaked it ever so slightly, but credit goes to her <3

I’ll point out the events from year 5 foreshadowing such scenario, I’ll propose how Y5Ch30 should be changed according to that, and how those changes actually make more sense for things happening in year 6. But first, let me tell you why, in my opinion, the events from the Portrait Vault in their current form simply are not good storytelling. Also, spoilers up to Y6Ch14.

About Rakepick and Merula

Rakepick’s talk when she was torturing Merula in the Portrait Vault could be summarised as: “I’m tired of pretending that I like you so now I’m gonna relieve my frustration”. And you know what, it’s not uncommon theme accompanied by the reveal of a villain (I had to pretend to care about you, but it was only about money/information etc.). The thing is that it just doesn’t work in that case.

First of all, as far as we know, Rakepick had absolutely no reason to care about gaining Merula’s trust (or Bill’s, or anyone’s for that matter). This is what really bothers in Y5Ch30. Merula didn’t tell Rakepick any important secret information, she didn’t give her any important object. And if she did, but we just don’t know about it yet – we really should. Because otherwise, the whole trust aspect serves only to make the betrayal more emotionally devastating which is plain stupid. Especially that Rakepick was always portrayed as a very practical, goal-oriented person.

The second problem here is that Rakepick didn’t even spend much time or effort on making Merula believe she likes her. Seriously, it was maybe… like a week? Let’s look at what we know about their relationship from the beginning. Because at first, Merula was actually among people who thought Rakepick is suspicious (Y4Ch2):

Their first actual interaction we saw was in Y4Ch4 when Rakepick met with a group of students involved previously with the Cursed Vaults. She asked MC then who should be her apprentice, and if we chose Bill…

Maybe it’s just me, but I find her choice of wording quite interesting, considering that Merula is a Slytherin and it feels like a suggestion that she might be not ambitious enough. A bit stingy… Though not as much as Rakepick’s reaction if we chose to duel Merula during the second meeting within the same chapter:

Rakepick definitely wasn’t impressed by Merula. Yet, if we borrow Merula’s broom in Y4Ch5, we learn that they work together:

It’s brought up again in Y4Ch6, no matter whose broom you borrowed (meaning that MC had to learn about it off-screen, I assume).

Their cooperation is confirmed in Y4Ch11:

We don’t really see much of how they’re relationship actually look like, though. They don’t interact with each other on the screen after Y4Ch4. The closest to tell us anything is Merula’s line from the Pepperup Potion class (Y4Ch11):

Though it’s not very reliable either as it’s typical behaviour for Merula when she admires someone (for example, she often says that she’s Snape’s favourite when his behaviour not always confirms that, and he definitely likes Penny – and probably Chiara – more).

Then comes year 5 and our first DADA class where Rakepick wasn’t particularly impressed with Merula’s childish sense of humour:

We also had our first apprentices' meeting where Rakepick admittedly acknowledged Marula’s value:

… but we also had this:

… which is interesting because it came back a little later:

And again, perhaps it’s just me, but I sense some mockery here. However, it didn’t really seem to discourage Merula. She still thought of Rakepick rather highly, we can also suspect that they still worked without MC (for example, it was Merula who told MC that Rakepick is looking for the Marauder’s Map in year 5 – even though technically MC knew about it already from year 4). All of that despite the fact that Rakepick never really praised or compliment Merula much. And maybe the most interesting example of that, in my opinion, is when you compare the scene where Rakepick saved us in Knockturn Alley between different companions.

- for Jae:

- for Bill:

- for Merula:

She didn’t even bother to say a single nice word about Merula. And Jae isn’t even among her “chosen ones”! Now, I’m not saying that she hated the girl from the beginning. She made her one of her apprentices, after all. And while I do think it was mostly practical decision (so Merula wouldn’t disturb MC like she did in previous years), I also believe Rakepick was somewhat concerned about not letting Merula die. I mean, Merula never got too close to the Vaults on her own, but when she once overtook MC in year 1 and entered the Icy Room first, she immediately got stuck in the cursed ice. You can say that Rakepick didn’t want Merula to die before the right time or whatever, but either way, she didn’t take her to the group to make Merula feel special. Rakepick herself never acted in a way that could make her feel that. She was never shy to show that she’s just not very impressed by Merula in general. As for Merula, she was seeking for Rakepick’s acceptance, yes (as she does with people of power: Snape, Dumbledore), but it wasn’t blind admiration like we’ve seen by the end of year 5. In fact, I’d say that there was a point when Merula became far less idealising about her mentor.

Y5Ch12:

Merula knows that her parents weren’t great at parenting, she even says a chapter earlier in Knockturn Alley:

That line doesn’t mean: “Rakepick is like a mother to me”. It means: “The last person who said that valued her ideology above me”.

Y5Ch15:

She was pretty quick to throw suspicion in Jacob’s room, especially that the Weasley brothers also have rather long red hair.

Y5Ch16:

It sounds more like pointing out Rakepick’s arrogance than showing admiration.

Now, let’s take a look at Y5Ch27, right before we went to Binns to learn from him about dragons, and Merula asked:

If MC answers that it’s because Rakepick trusts them, this is her reaction:

Notice that she talks about herself AND Bill – she sees all three of them as a group. She didn’t say anything like: “Rubbish! She should tell me, not you!”. In the very same chapter (Y5Ch27), Rakepick also taught us the Conjunctivitis Curse:

Merula showed critical thinking towards Rakepick, Rakepick was kind of dismissive towards Merula. Yet, in the next chapter (Y5Ch28), we have this:

And I have to ask again: what are you talking about, girl? Like… where did it come from, exactly? The only possible explanation is that something had happened between those two chapters that made Merula think so, but the problem is that the story implies that there was no break. In Y5Ch27, Rakepick told us to come back to her after we talk to Kettleburn, and that chapter ends with Kettleburn. Then Y5Ch28 is dedicated to Merula because she’s scared before the Vault so she doesn’t want to go to Rakepick immediately – meaning that there just couldn’t have been too much time in between. So… what gives? Rakepick’s behaviour towards her didn’t change that much in that chapter yet.

Sure, she had her “Never apologise (…)”, but she started with scolding Merula and she was pissed off. But then, we have Y5Ch29 and this scene when we were choosing the fourth person (Penny or Charlie):

… and let me stop you here, Patricia, because WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! She DID question your judgement about a blinded dragon still being able to hurt people just days ago! Later in that chapter, Rakepick continues to praise Merula over nothing:

… and the best thing is that for some reason, MC goes along with it!

HOW?! How, you stupid child, did you come to such conclusion? Are you just repeating what Merula told you? Are you really incapable of independent thinking and realising that NOTHING before, during almost two years suggested that?

After arriving at the Vault, Rakepick butters Merula up once more:

... and nobody questions that Rakepick’s attitude towards her made a 180 degrees change in a matter of days.

I really can’t look emotionally at what happened in the Portrait Vaults because nothing about Rakepick and Merula adds up. I’m just upset because of how little sense it makes. The whole torture scene tries to use something that was never even built up.

There were, however, some bases for a different course of events that ended up pretty much meaningless.

Foreshadowing with no real payoff

Let’s start with Ben as his character is quite important for the whole discussion. Year 5 for Ben was about becoming braver, and it’s something that started already in Y5Ch1 when he covered MC with his own body when they were attacked by the Red Cloak. He did it, even if moments earlier MC said that they don’t trust him.

We can also say with no doubt that one of the reasons behind his will to change was MC.

Y5Ch7:

Y5Ch9:

Y5Ch16 (before Rakepick broke MC’s wand):

Y5Ch19:

Y5Ch20:

Then, of course, it became much more prominent by the end of the year (though, it’s also kind of weird because Ben had spent most of the year wanting to be braver, yet, in Y5Ch27, he suggests that it’s only the recent chaos for Peeves that caused that change – but that’s a topic for a different discussion…).

Y5Ch27:

Y5Ch29:

Another important foreshadowing was with Rakepick, and I’m talking here mostly about two scenes. The first one is after she showed MC the Cruciatus Curse for the first time in Y5Ch19:

The second, right before MC had to choose a person to accompany them to the Portrait Vault in Y5Ch29, which I mentioned already:

With all of that in mind, let’s try to fix Y5Ch30.

How it should’ve looked (more or less)

This is just my proposition based on the things I listed above. I do think that it’d be better than what Jam City released, but I also assume that they could come up with something even more interesting, considering that they know the future plot.

Anyway, the chapter could’ve looked pretty much the same until the moment when MC opens the Legilimency door. The kids want to go inside, and then:

Instead of knocking them down instantly, Rakepick tells them that she’ll go first because it can be dangerous.

MC protests, but both Merula and Bill take Rakepick’s side. This is the least I’d expect to see when it comes to their trust being used in Rakepick’s favour. Everyone argues for a while.

Eventually, Rakepick loses patience and uses Petrificus Totalus on everyone except MC and Ben. When she tries to attack MC, Ben pushes us away and takes the spell on himself, keeping his promise that if Rakepick tries anything, he’ll help us (Y5Ch16) and proving that he’s braver.

Rakepick decides that Ben will be her victim. She warned us that if something happens, it’ll be MC’s fault because they made a choice – and even though she was talking about the choice between Charlie and Penny, MC was the one to decide that Ben joined us, too. She says that she’ll kill Ben as she was instructed to do so. Perhaps she even starts saying Avada --

MC is filled with rage, despair and fear. They’ve just learnt that Rakepick betrayed first Jacob, then them. They don’t know if Jacob is alive. After all, Beatrice was getting weaker and weaker in the portrait, and Jacob was trapped for years. In a desperate attempt to save their friend, they cast Crucio on Rakepick – validating her “Never say never” and mirroring Harry using the curse on Bellatrix after she killed Sirius in the Order of the Phoenix.

It doesn’t really work - just like in Harry’s case - but it stops Rakepick, and Ben doesn’t get hurt. She falls, but then she laughs. She reminds MC of their lesson in Knockturn Alley. She adds something about R and disapparates.

The rest of the chapter could remain pretty much the same. And we could stop at that – just a bunch of missed opportunities to make the story more interesting and sensible. However, I genuinely believe that a scenario close to the one I proposed WAS the original plan, and it was changed quite late in development. So late that the writers were already working on year 6 and didn’t manage to do proper changes.

The events post-Vault

The first thing I want to discuss is about MC. It’s not really big, but I feel it says a lot. In Y6Ch4, Dumbledore asks MC about their feelings:

… and if you choose “I’m afraid”, MC says:

… but it doesn’t really make sense that MC feels that way. Yes, Rakepick herself was claiming in the past that they’re similar, but she abandoned it pretty much half-way through year 4. Then, in the Portrait Vault, we also had this:

… but honestly, it’s total bullshit. Rakepick couldn’t pick an argument that would be more untrue. MC talks ALL THE TIME how everything they do is about Jacob, very often without the player’s choice, so how anyone is supposed to believe otherwise? She could’ve played on their guilt that they’re using other people! Anything! It really feels like not a well-thought-out hot-fix in comparison to the situation where MC would try to use Crucio. It’d be a real reason for MC to think that they might be like Rakepick.

Now, let’s move to the main point: Ben. Or rather New Ben. To be clear, I don’t think that Ben’s change doesn’t make sense. Either way, he experienced trauma, and I can see where he’s coming from. But that being said, I believe that his transformation would make more sense if he was “the victim”. And yes, I think it supports the idea that it was the original plan. Ben’s change is also apparently crucial for his character and for the plot, therefore they had to push it somehow, resulting in something that not always is clear. But let’s start from the beginning. In Y5Ch32, Ben talks about being invincible:

… but again, it just… doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, it makes some sense. But it’d be more understandable if Ben actually avoided dying, like in “Rakepick was about to kill him”. Anyone could feel invincible after literally escaping death. And Ben’s friendship quiz even mentions this particular fear!

The changed scenario also explains better Ben wanting to be MC’s protector. Yes, MC was his first friend and a person to believe in him, and all. But their relationship went through a lot. And depending on the player’s choices, MC could be not supportive at all towards Ben during year 5 (and even earlier). In that case, Ben wanting to protect MC is a bit out of nowhere. It’d be much more expected if MC saved him from Rakepick. Ben could see that as “repaying debt” but also kind of redemption after he wasn’t fully successful in the Vault. I wouldn’t necessarily change his behaviour, he’d still feel the need to prove he’s braver because technically, he still didn’t do much – at least in his eyes. But it’d be more obvious why it is that way.

Another person whose behaviour would be more understandable is Charlie. He’d still feel helpless, but it’d be about two of his actual friends who were in serious danger, so of course, he’d consider leaving to Romania. Not to mention that it’d add more emotional weight to the fallout of his friendship with Ben.

Hell, even Ben sending Cedric to protect MC in Y6Ch14 could’ve been less ridiculous. If they’d approach it properly, they could’ve created the atmosphere of “unspoken fear” that if left alone, MC could go full evil and start casting the Unforgivable Curses on people. I know that Cedric is just stupid fanservice and there’s not much more behind it either way, but it could be used at least a little better!

Last but not least, it’d be a pretty great opportunity to finally do something with Merula. And again, her behaviour in year 6 wouldn’t have to be changed, but the narrative behind it would be so much more compelling. If they included the plot where Rakepick actually uses Merula’s trust – to gain information, to have Merula defend her, whatever – Merula would still have a very real reason to feel betrayed and to want revenge. The difference would be that we - as players - would know that she doesn’t do it only for herself. Because before going to the Portrait Vault, Merula did see herself as a part of the group. I’d still change some things about her in those last chapters, but we had that moment in Y5Ch27 where she put herself on the same level as Bill, for example. We also had this scene in Y5Ch30:

Now, that group was betrayed and attacked. I wouldn’t expect Merula to talk about that. She could keep yelling about how Rakepick used her, how she stupidly was taking Rakepick’s side etc. But it’d be also a sign that something changed in her thinking - a pretty nice basis to start working on her development.

And that’s it. That’s why I believe that Y5Ch30, the worst chapter in the game so far, was indeed quite good at some point. That it was meant for this story to be more interesting and satisfying. Why it didn’t happen? I don’t know. Perhaps someone at Jam City decided that it’d be easier to force people to feel sorry for Merula than actually work on her character’s arc. And then, the writers had to adjust. Either way, I’m unbelievably disappointed by that.

Yikes forever.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm spoilers #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #patricia rakepick #madam rakepick #ben copper #merula snyde #bill weasley #charlie weasley #portrait vault #jam city #about characters #analysis post

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cori-writes-fanfic · 4 years

Text

I have a lot of Thoughts after the reveal of the new Dark Road kids, and most of it isn’t directly about the kids themselves and more kind of crazy predictions about how the story will go. (This may be a little bit of a jumbled mess as I try to organize my thoughts, so…bear with me.)

So we know that:

We don’t really see any of the Dark Road kids in the future besides Xehanort and Eraqus (or, at least, that we know of).

Eraqus is stationed at The Land of Departure, rather than Scala.

Literally nobody talks about Scala in the future.

Eraqus was a “blue blood”—i.e. descended directly from Keyblade wielders (most likely Brain)—and Xehanort was an off-worlder who was made an apprentice and desperate to Eraqus’s equal.

We don’t really know much about what Scala was like, but we can guess, based on the size, structure, and the information about Eraqus’s family that it was likely a thriving city at one point. We know that it was built on the ruins of Daybreak Town, and that many of the citizens were likely descendants of Dandelions. I’m running on the assumption that not every citizen in the city would be a Keyblade wielder (though many are, and the “blue bloods” are often expected to take up the blade). That said, my guess would be that many times masters would take townspeople as apprentices, and they’d only really take on off-worlders if they showed a lot of potential (which would really drive Xehanort’s desperation to prove himself).

As for the kids themselves, I’m going to jump on the bandwagon for two of them: Bragi being Luxu and Vor being Kairi’s grandmother. For the first, I think it’d be interesting to see Luxu interact with the other apprentices, knowing what he does. …Well, that, and the name is way too similar to Braig, so if they’re not the same person, I’m likely just going to get them confused. For the second, it’d give an explanation for why Kairi’s grandmother knows that story about the Dandelions (not that it’s technically needed, but it’d be kind of fun). That said, I’m thinking they aren’t blue bloods like Eraqus, but from regular families around the city (and I’m sure that’s going to be proven wrong soon, but…oh well).

Story-wise, I’m kind of predicting that things will start off mostly with just general training, we’ll get some references to the Dandelions/X-blade/etc. through Bragi, and MoM will pop up at some point to speak cryptically to Xehanort and stoke his ambition/fear. I’d guess that The Land of Departure is some sort of outpost for the Keyblade wielders (perhaps one of many) that either a) a couple of masters and apprentices live at full time, or b) masters and apprentices are on a rotating schedule for who stays at an outpost and maintains it at any given time.

At any rate, about half way through the story is when I think the big “Scala calamity” is going to go down. Essentially, I’m guessing that Bragi/Luxu is going to spur this on (presumably in order to make sure Xehanort ends up as the “scape goat” for whatever his plan is, though I’m not sure how exactly that would work). This ends up killing and/or scattering the Keyblade wielders, and either flat out destroying Scala or basically taking it out of this plane of existence. Xehanort, Eraqus, Urd, Hermod, and Eraqus’s/Xehanort’s master manage to escape together and head to The Land of Departure for safety, hoping to find other Keyblade wielders there. When they don’t after a time, the master head’s off to check the other outposts.

Meanwhile, the kids are stressed because they’ve just had their home destroyed, many Keyblade wielders are missing—including one of their closest friends—and the other betrayed them. Xehanort is particularly antsy, which is partly because he’s feeling somewhat inadequate; he wanted to prove that he was good enough to be a Keyblade wielder, but he couldn’t do anything to stop Bragi, couldn’t protect his new home and friends, and now he’s not even allowed to look for them and Eraqus is insisting that they stay here because the master ordered them two, and Xehanort just doesn’t understand—

And then MoM shows up again. Xehanort vents his frustrations, and MoM does his usual thing and kind of manipulates Xehanort into leaving. This is ultimately what ends up prompting Xehanort’s “world tour” as he calls it in Re:mind; his desperate attempt to find what Keyblade wielders are still out there, and to prove that he’s still good enough. Unfortunately, none of this actually gives him the time to, you know…process the traumatic event that he and his friends have just gone through. So when he travels the world, he can’t help but notice the bad things; how so many people will lie and go behind the backs of people that they claimed to love (like Bragi), how so many people claimed to be strong but when it came down to it they couldn’t protect anyone (like him), and how sometimes those mistakes end up leading to dire consequences (like what happened to his home). Ultimately, this is what ends up fueling his philosophy that the world needs to be restarted, even if his reasoning is faulty; if people are horrible, and they’re just going to cause more suffering (and force others to go through what he did), then they should just be saved the trouble. And he’s going to do things right this time. He’s going to make it better. He’s going to prove he’s not weak and maybe be able to make sure nothing like this ever happens to him again.

Back at The Land of Departure, the kid’s master has basically decided to take up permanent residence there. He hasn’t had much like finding other Keyblade wielders; he only found one, a young master named Yen Sid, who was so traumatized by the fall of Scala that he decided to give up the Keyblade, though he’s promise to keep an eye out for other Keyblade wielders and send along any information he could get. The master decides that the best thing he can do is keep this outpost in good condition and train his apprentices in order to make sure they’re prepared to go out into the worlds on their own. Eraqus, in particular, works like crazy in training, and adheres to his master’s teachings almost religiously; like Xehanort, he’s still grieving from an event that none of them have properly worked through, he’s just handling it in vastly different ways. His family’s the one that was descended from the Union Leaders; he’s the one who needs to pick up the slack, to lead, to make sure that everyone’s okay. He can’t let the others know how bothered he is by all this; he has to be strong for them. (But in the back of his mind, he’s still thinking about the darkness that Bragi brought to their shared home, and how it had destroyed everything he’d loved. He still has nightmares about it. It terrifies him.)

After Urd and Hermod become masters, they decide to travel the worlds, like Xehanort, with the purpose of both trying to protect people and see if they can find other Keyblade wielders (even if, by this point, they know it’s unlikely). Eraqus wants to come with them, but they gently refuse; the master is growing weaker, and someone needs to make sure this outpost stays standing. If anyone should be taking charge of this, it’s Eraqus. He agrees, albeit reluctantly, and his friends head off.

Urd and Hermod visit The Land of Departure much more than Xehanort does (though all of them return for the master’s passing). At different points, the two appear with a child in tow (Terra and Aqua). Maybe one or both of them are their kids; maybe they just found them. Regardless, they can’t bring them with them, and the kids have nowhere else to stay, so they have to come to The Land of Departure. Then, at some point, Urd and Hernod just…stop coming back.

And Eraqus is troubled. He’s worried for his friends, but he can’t leave to look for them, not when he has two very young children to look after, not when for all he knows he’s the only Keyblade Master left. So he stays in The Land of Departure, and he raises—and later trains—Terra and Aqua. He never talks about Scala; Terra and Aqua never experienced the place, never had to deal with the heritage they’d lost, and he can’t bring himself to burden them with his own traumatic memories. (Though, if he’s truthful with himself, he can admit that’s partially because he doesn’t want to relive them, either.)

And then Xehanort reappears. Out of the blue, like nothing’s changed. Eraqus is overjoyed. He hasn’t seen any of his friends in years, he thought he was the only one left, but now one of his friends has returned, and he’s desperate to learn more about what’s happened in the outside world.

But Xehanort…isn’t quite like Eraqus remembered him. He’s talking about bring about another Keyblade War, about whether or not they’re worthy (he’s worthy), and Eraqus doesn’t understand. (Why would you want to force others to go through the same thing they went through?) Xehanort doesn’t really explain, and of course, Eraqus attacks him, and Xehanort gives him his scars. (It’s like Bragi all over again. The darkness corrupts people. It takes his loved ones away from him.)

Xehanort, of course, disappears for a few years, and then comes back with a young boy named Ven. Eraqus…isn’t quite sure what to make of this, this time. He’s not going to turn the boy away (and maybe even recognizes the name, depending on how much Bragi/Luxu told them), but he’s also…a little wary after the last meeting with Xehanort. But…Xehanort is also the only other Keyblade wielder he knows, besides his apprentices. The last member of their group still standing. And no matter what Xehanort had done, he can’t bring himself to completely sever that friendship. He doesn’t entirely believe Xehanort’s given up his plan, but—maybe if he keeps a close eye on Ven, then he can make sure it never works out. And maybe if Ven is here, the last of his friends will stop by more, and he can try and change his mind. It doesn’t work. It was never going to work, but how could he have known that then?

…Aaaand I’m going to leave it there because this got…really out of hand. This is almost definitely not going to be canon, but, hey; it’s fun to think about.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts dark road #eraqus #xehanort #bragi #vor #urd #hermod #can't promise i'll be super active on this account #i just had a lot of thoughts about dark road i needed to get off my chest

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cristinablackthornkingson · 4 years

Text

Arc of a Scythe Short Story #1.

It is a warm spring day in the year of the Lynx, a few months since Scythe Michael Faraday and Scythe Marie Curie ‘retired’ to a beach house in Amazonia They have recently rekindled their relationship, and are often visited by Citra and Rowan, who are two of the only people who know that Marie and Michael are still alive, and did not self-glean, as the rest of the world believes.

When Xenocrates stepped down as High Blade years ago, Marie was voted in as the new High Blade. She, Rowan and Citra barely made it off Endura before it sunk thanks to Goddard. The sinking of Endura caused war to break out among The Scythedom, and everything was a mess for almost a year, until out of nowhere, Scythe Rand turned on Goddard and quiet literally stabbed him in the back, ending him and thus ending the war. Rand mostly keeps to herself now, and though nobody on either side has forgiven her, she doesn’t bother anybody so they don’t bother her.

Marie did not accept the position of High Blade of MidMerica, she did not feel it necessary once Scythe Goddard was no longer a threat.

She and Anastasia returned to their normal lives for about 2 years, before Marie decided that it was time to put Scythe Marie Curie to rest, and simply be Susan Goldie, once again.

She told only Anastasia and Rowan of her plans. (Rowan was punished for the crimes he committed as Scythe Lucifer by being rendered deadish 13 times, once for each Scythe he ended. He was then made unsavory by The Thunderhead for 13 years, but 13 years is nothing to an immortal, and he is just glad he can still see Citra, they may not be able to be together, but they can be friends.) Anastasia was more than understanding and promised to visit as often as she could, she would miss Marie as she missed Faraday, but ultimately she wanted them both to be happy, and would support however they went about getting that happiness.

Citra and Rowan aren’t the only ones Michael and Marie keep in touch with, form their old life. Michael still keeps in touch with Munira, who is still working in the library of Alexandria. They mostly keep in touch online, though they have visited in person once or twice.

Marie and Michael are not known or recognized at all here in Amazonia, and have chosen not to revert to their birth names, it would feel unnatural after all these years, and after all they did not fall in love as Susan and Gerald (though Marie did fall in love with him as Susan) they fell in love as Marie and Michael, and feel it is only fitting that they should be together now, as Marie and Michael. They have both adopted the surname Wilson. Here in Amazonia, everyone knows them as a married couple, even though they are not legally married.

They have settled in well here over the past few months. They haven’t done anything grand or interesting, they are simply finally enjoying domestic life.

They have just finished dinner and are clearing up, when Marie brings up the first serious topic they’ve discussed.

“You know.” Marie says to Michael, as they clear the dishes from the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot, about all the things we said we would do together if we weren’t Scythes and didn’t have the 9th Commandment to think about.”

“Oh?” Michael asks, wondering where Marie is going with this.

“One thing we always talked about was... well we always talked about having a baby.” Marie shyly says in a quiet tone, trying not to get her hopes up. Michael almost drops the plate he is holding. He had not been expecting that.

“I... did we?” he asks in a breathless tone of shock.

“Yes, quiet a lot, but you might have changed your mind.” Marie quietly says, not meeting Michael’s gaze.

“I... I haven’t, have you?” He softly asks, setting the plate down and taking her hand in his. Hope swells in Marie’s chest and her breath catches in her throat as she shakes her head.

“No, I haven’t. We could do it now, we could have a baby.”

“I... could we?” Marie shrugs and rests her head on Michael’s shoulder.

“I don’t see why not, no one knows who we are expect for Citra, Munira and Rowan, all it would take is for me to turn a corner and I’d be able to get pregnant, or we could adopt.” Marie softly says, looking up at Michael to try and gauge his reaction by the look on his face.

“Why not both? We could have a biological baby now and then adopt in a few years.” Michael suggests, slipping an arm around Marie’s waist. He has always liked the idea of being a father, especially since taking Citra and Rowan in and having them become like children to him, it would be an amazing experience to be able to love and raise a child from birth, to teach them how to be a good, loving and open person, and to be able to see part of him and part of Marie in another person, a person they made together, well that would be the most amazing thing in the world.

“So you want to do it? You want to have a baby?” Marie hopefully asks, looking up at Michael. He grins and leans down to kiss her.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Okay then, I’ll go to the turning center tomorrow. You know I don’t think I’ll keep my silver hair this time, silver was Scythe Curie’s style, not so much Marie Wilson’s.” Marie says in a light tone, when she pulls back from her embrace with Michael, glancing at her long silver hair lying free around her shoulders.

“I like the silver.” Michael says, running his hand through her hair.

“You liked the brown too, you fell in love with me when I had brown hair.” Marie points out with a grin.

“That I did, your brown hair always makes me think of you as Susan, my apprentice, who tried to climb into bed with me in the middle of the night.” Michael teases in an amused tone, as Marie flushes red.

“I did not try and climb into bed with you, you stopped me before I could.” She admits with a shy smile. Michael laughs lightly and leans in to kiss her forehead.

“I love you.” he softly says, holding Marie close to him, cupping her cheek in one hand. Marie squeezes his hand and leans into him.

“I love you too.” She tells him.

Two months later, when Michael returns home from on early morning walk along the beach, he is surprised when he finds that Marie isn’t still in bed, like she was when he left. Ever since retiring, Marie has enjoyed sleeping in and not having to be up and out at the crack of dawn everyday, she likes to stay in bed for an hour or two after waking up.

“Marie?” Michael calls, looking around the room for any sign of her.

“In here, come in!” Her familiar voice calls from the en suite bathroom. Michael furrows his brow in confusion, not understanding why she is calling him into the bathroom, they’re a close couple but not that close.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, standing by the cracked door of the en suite.

“Yes yes everything’s fine, I want to show you something.” Marie appears in the doorway, her lavender bath robe wrapped around her. She reaches out and grabs Michael’s wrist before pulling him into the bathroom and over to the sink. “Look!” She exclaims, pointing into the sink. It takes Michael a moment to realize that the object Marie is pointing to, is a pregnancy test, one with the word ‘Pregnant’ clearly displayed in the window in the middle of the test.

“Oh my god.” Michael quietly says, shock washing over him. “Marie... you’re pregnant?” He adds in a soft tone, tearing up as he turns to look at Marie, who is glowing with joy as she grins and nods.

“Yes! Yes I am, I told you it wouldn’t take long.” She says in an excited tone, linking her arms around the back of his neck and leaning to kiss his cheek. Michael tentatively reaches out and carefully lays his hand across Marie’s flat stomach, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his child is growing right beneath his hand, and in a few months he’ll be able to feel them move and kick, and a few months after that, he will actually be holding his baby, his and Marie’s baby.

“Is... is it a boy or a girl?” Michael quietly asks, too shocked and overwhelmed to come up with anything else to ask.

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a scan yet, and even if I had, it’s too early to tell just yet, but my bets are on a boy.” Marie confidently says, certain that she and Michael are going to have a son.

“A boy? No, it’s a girl, I always pictured us having a girl first.” Michael says, coming down from the shock and disbelief.

“Well I guess we will just have to wait until they can tell on the scan, then you’ll see you’re wrong.” Marie says in a teasing tone. Really thought, she could not care less about her baby’s sex, she is just so excited to finally have the life she has always wanted since she fell in love with Michael, as his apprentice.

When Marie is 3 months along, Citra and Rowan arrive for a visit. They don’t know about the baby yet, so Marie and Michael plan to tell them today, it took everything Marie had, not to tell them the second they were through the door.

“How is everything back home? Is there anything we should know about?” Michael asks, hoping nothing will happen that will call for he and Marie to come out of retirement, not now they finally have the life they’ve always wanted together.

“No nothing really, everything is quiet and normal thankfully. Is there anything special going on here?” Citra asks, not realizing she just created the perfect segway into a pregnancy announcement.

“Actually there is something we want to tell you.” Marie says, sharing a grin with Michael as she slips her hand into his.

“What is it?” Rowan curiously asks.

“I’m pregnant.” Marie softly says, resting a hand across her stomach. Citra’s hand flies up to cover her mouth and Rowan’s jaw drops in disbelief, clearly they were not expecting this.

“Oh my god.” Citra quietly says. “I-I didn’t even know you wanted kids.”

“Michael and I both let go of the idea of having children when we became Scythes, it was something we often talked about when we were together and would imagine what life would be like if we weren’t Scythes, but like I said we never thought it would be possible, until we retired to here. Once we had settled into life here, I realized we could have baby like we always talked about. That’s why I turned a corner, so we would be able to have a biological child.” Marie calmly explains.

“I am going to be the coolest uncle ever.” Rowan says in a proud tone, thinking of all the fun things he’ll be able to do with the baby, he intends to be the kind of Uncle who lets the kid stay up way past their bedtime and eat all the sugar they want, then send them back to their parents cranky and coming down from a sugar rush. Citra will probably be the responsible Aunt who makes the kid eat their vegetables and do their homework, so Rowan will probably be the favorite.

“When is the baby due? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Citra eagerly asks, leaning forward in her seat.

“The baby’s due in October, the middle of October, and we don’t know the sex, we’re going to wait until the baby is born to find out.” Marie says. They had decided not to find out the sex of the baby, despite having opposing opinions on what the sex is. It was Marie who suggested they leave it as a surprise, so few things in life are a surprise these days, much less good ones, she feels it will be exciting and nice to have this small surprise. It will also make choosing a name more exciting and fun, since they have agreed they’d like to have a name picked out by the time the baby arrives.

“Oh this is so exciting!” Citra exclaims. She is thrilled for Marie and Michael, they will be amazing parents and deserve to have a family of their own, after all they’ve been through since they fell in love.

After they told Citra and Rowan about the baby, Michael told Munira over online chat. At first she was quiet weirded out by the idea of it, since to her Michael and Marie were still Honorable Scythe Curie and Honorable Scythe Faraday, and she definitely never pictured them as parents, especially not Faraday. She was and is happy for them, however, and promises to send lots of gifts for the baby and come visit when they are born.

Over the next few months, Marie and Michael start to prepare for the baby, stocking up on diapers and formula, buying clothes and toys and furniture for the nursery.

At approximately 5 months, things to start to feel a lot more real for Michael, when he feels the baby kick for the first time.

It is a warm evening in June when the baby kicks for the first time. Both Michael and Marie are sitting on the sofa, Michael reading through his old Scythe journals on the Ipad, and Marie making out a list of names with pen and paper. Michael is engrossed in his reading when he hears Marie give a faint gasp and looks up to see her sitting completely still, her hand on her stomach and a look of both shock and delight on her face.

“Marie? Is everything alright?” He hesitantly asks, afraid that perhaps something is wrong with Marie or the baby.

“Give me your hand.” Marie says, reaching out with the hand that isn’t on her stomach.

“What? Why?” Michael asks in a confused tone.

“You’ll see, just give me your hand!” Still confused, Michael places his hand in Marie’s, becoming even more confused when she lays his hand on top of her stomach, holding it there with her own.

“Marie I don’t_” Michael begins, but is cut off by the feeling of a small and gentle nudge against his palm.

“There!” Marie exclaims in delight. “Did you feel it?”

“I-I did, what was it?” Michael softly asks.

“I think it was a kick, it’s the first one I’ve felt.” Marie says. Michael places his other hand on her stomach, trying to feel another kick. It was the most amazing thing he had ever felt and witnessed, and it made it all so much more real for him. Over the last few months he had almost felt as if he were not part of this pregnancy, since Marie is carrying the baby and feels all the symptoms of pregnancy almost everyday, he had not been able to feel the baby kick until now, or do anything much besides care for Marie and help prepare for the baby.

“That... that is amazing.” Michael says in a tone of awe, for once in his life lost for words. “It all feels so real now, I cannot believe in less than 5 months, we’re going to be parents. I have to admit, I am quiet nervous.” He adds with a nervous laugh. Michael has very little experience with children, he had nieces and nephews he would occasionally watch, before he became a Scythe, but that was when they were older, he had been around and helped out a bit when they were babies and toddlers, but nothing significant. He has never changed a diaper or fed a baby, he hardly knows a thing about children and has no idea how to be a good father.

“Michael.” Marie softly says, running a hand through his hair. “You are going to be a wonderful father, I know you’re afraid because you don’t know much about children, but neither do I.

The only experience I have with them is from when my brother was born, and I was only a child myself then, so I don’t remember much about it. I’ve always loved children, yes, but I don’t know how to be a mother or anything about children, but we will learn, we have all we need to start out with, we have money, we have a home, each other for support, and endless amounts of love to give to this little one, I promise everything will be alright.”

“Yes... Yes I suppose you’re right, as usual. Show me your list of names, we should narrow it down soon.” Michael says, reaching for the notepad by Marie’s side, hoping choosing a name for the baby will also help solidify them and make them more real to him.

“I haven’t come up with many, naming a baby is harder than I thought it would be.” Marie says, as Michael reads through the short list of names. They’re all old-fashioned classical names, ones that have no big significance, given their pasts as Scythes and how they took on meaningful names from history, Michael and Marie decided not to give their child a historically meaningful name, simply a name they both like.

“I like Mia for a girl.” Michael says. “I can picture us with a daughter named Mia, and no one will be able to give her a ridiculous nick name, you can’t shorten Mia, though I’m sure Rowan will try.” Michael says with a grin and a sigh.

“I like Mia too, but I also like Willow, though Willow Wilson sounds a bit much.” Marie lightly says, her hand resting on her stomach.

“How about Mia Willow then? Mia Willow Wilson?” Michael suggests.

“Mia, Mia Willow.” Marie says in a thoughtful tone, looking at her stomach as she runs a hand across it. “I like it, although we’re not going to need to use it since we’re definitely having a boy.”

“You don’t seem to have many boy’s names here, for someone who is so adamant we’re having a son.” Michael teases, turning his attention back to the list.

“I know, all the names I liked before I became a Scythe and thought about having a family, have been ruined by New Order Scythes, I use to love the name Robert, but there’s no way I’m naming my son that, now.” Marie says, shifting to a more comfortable position on the sofa.

“Out of the few that you have here, I like Alexander the most.” Michael says. If they name the baby Alexander, he’ll probably be called Alex a lot, but it’s not the worst nickname, as long as nobody makes up something ridiculous for him, Alexander will work well.

“I prefer Andrew, though people will probably call him Andy or Drew.” Marie says in an amused tone, knowing how much Michael hates nicknames. Some Scythes would try to call him Mike or Mikey, years ago, but he always insisted they call him by his full name. Apparently he also use to get ‘Gerry’ a lot, when he was Gerald, which he hated even more than Mike and Mikey.

“I will glean them if they do.” Michael flatly says, irritation building up in him at the memory of people trying to call him Mike and Mikey, and his family trying to call him Gerry, before he was ordained. Marie doesn’t mind nicknames as much, she had plenty as a child, usually Susie or Sue, but Michael simply can’t stand them, though he had called her Susie once or twice, when she was his apprentice, it was a term of endearment for him and always made Marie (Susan, back then) blush like hell, it was adorable.

“Oh, what about Henry? You can’t really shorten Henry or make a nickname for Henry.” Marie asks in a eager tone. “We could name him Henry Alexander.” Michael takes a moment to ponder this, before nodding apporvingly.

“Henry Alexander Wilson, I think it works, though we won’t need it, I know we’re having a girl.” Marie grins and rolls her eyes.

“I know you’re wrong, but we’ll just have to wait until they’re born to find out.”

4 months later, on a stormy October night, Marie is pulled from her sleep by an unfamiliar tightening pain in her lower abdomen. She waits for a few seconds, to see if her naniets will dull the pain, but after a minute or two, the pain doesn’t fade. Slowly, Marie pushes herself up in the bed, unable to hold back a gasp as another intense pain washes over her. She has been through a lot in her life, she died seven deaths for Michael, some of which were extremely painful and brutal, but nothing compares to the pain she is experiencing right now.

As she contemplates whether or not to wake Michael, one of the bedside lamps flicks on and Michael sits up next to her.

“Marie, are you alright?” He softly asks, placing a hand on her back.

“I think... I think I’m having contractions.” Marie says in a breathy tone, her hands clutching her stomach. She can’t imagine what else these pains could be, it’s a week past her due date, so she has been prepared to go into labor at any minute over the last week or so.

“Are you sure, how many pains have you had?” Michael asks.

“Only 1 or 2, but I can’t imagine it’s anything else.”

Over the next 20 minutes, Marie has a few more pains, all feeling pretty much the same, confirming to her that this is labor. Both she and Michael know there is no point in calling their midwife yet, these early stages of labor can be very, very long,and the pain is not so intense yet that Marie feels she needs her nanites adjusted, so for the next two hours or so, she deals with the pains by pacing around the room, talking to Michael about what the baby will look like, who they’ll look like, what their personality will be like, etc.

About two hours later, though the pains are still bearable, they are getting more strong and intense, which is a sign that things are moving along, so Marie and Michael decide to call the midwife. Shortly after they found out about the baby, they agreed that hiring a private midwife to deliver the baby here at home, would be the best choice for them, they didn’t want to risk anybody in the hospital recognizing them, even though they have both turned a corner and look much younger than they have in years, it is possible that someone who knew them in their youth, will be at the hospital and recognize them.

Nothing much changes when the midwife arrives, she asks a few questions about the labor so far, and then stays back and out of the way, while Michael continues to support Marie.

After 8 total hours of labor, at 9:23 a.m. on the 20th of October, the year of The Lynx, the baby is born. Their cries pierce the silence of the room, and Marie and Michael both find themselves tearing up with joy.

“It’s a girl!” The midwife announces, placing a blanket on Marie’s chest before placing the baby on the blanket. Marie’s arms instantly come up to encircle her daughter and bring her closer to her.

“Hi baby.” Marie quietly says, kissing Mia’s forehead as she squirms and wriggles around.

Michael puts his arms around Marie and Mia, at loss for words. Mia is so perfect, and even at moments old, is a perfect mixture of them both, with a thatch of brown hair that could come from either of them, and big grey eyes like Marie.

“She... she’s perfect.” Michael quietly says, gazing down at his daughter in awe, as little Mia wraps her tiny hand around his finger. He still can’t believe he is a father and that he has a daughter, just like he and Marie always talked about.

Marie nods her agreement, as little Mia settles and her cries ebb off.

“She looks like you, Michael.” Marie quietly says, her voice hoarse from exhaustion, stroking Mia’s soft little cheek.

“No, she looks like you, my hair is darker than that, and she has your eyes and nose.” Michael insists. Marie laughs softly and says

“We’re both biased, I want her to look like you, you want her to look like me, she probably doesn’t like us at all.”

“Don’t worry, Rowan or Munira won’t hesitate to be honest about who she looks like, when they see her.” Michael says in an amused tone. If there’s anyone you can trust to be honest, it’s Munira and Rowan.

That night, at around 4:00 A.M., Michael and Marie are awoken to Mia’s sharp, loud wails.

“I’ll get her, you rest.” Michael quietly says, laying a hand on Marie’s arm as she begins to sit up in bed.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep.

“Absolutely, you’ve done all the hard work the past 9 months, now it’s my turn.” Michael softly kisses her forehead before crossing the room to Mia’s bassinet, where she lies, her face red and scrunched up, her mouth open in a wail. He scoops her up into his arms and pads out into the living room, so her crying won’t keep Marie awake.

Half an hour later, once Mia has had her bottle, her cries have stopped and she has calmed down, but she is still awake. Even at only a few hours old, she is clearly a curious little thing, her wide grey eyes open and taking in everything around her.

Michael is standing by the window with Mia in his arms, looking out onto the beach, where he will take Mia on walks, where she’ll learn to swim, and play with her Aunts Citra and Munira and her Uncle Rowan.

After a few minutes, he looks down at Mia in his arms, his heart swelling with love for this tiny, sweet little girl, someone he and Marie made together, out of their love for each other. He never realized how amazing having a child can be, getting to see glimpses of himself and Marie in his daughter is like nothing he’s never experienced in his 200 odd years of life.

“You’re a night owl like your mom, aren’t you little one?” Michael quietly says, stroking Mia’s cheek. He has always been someone to go to bed early, but Marie has always been a night owl, staying up until 1 or 2 every night, and it seems Mia will be the same.

Finding himself growing weary and tired, Michael settles onto the sofa and carefully lays Mia on his chest, her cheek resting against the soft fabric of his shirt. He places a hand on her back, holding her closely and tight, and soon they both drop off into a peaceful sleep.

When Marie wakes up a few hours later and finds the bed empty next to her, as well as Mia’s bassinet empty, she assumes Michael is already up with her. She could easily go back to sleep, Michael wouldn’t mind and he’s more than capable of handling Mia by himself for a few more hours, but she would much rather spend time with her husband and daughter, she can always sleep when Mia is asleep.

When Marie walks out into the living room, she stops in her tracks when she sees Michael, her usually neat, composed and put-together Michael, sitting on the sofa, his hair in disarray, his trousers stained with formula, his top creased and stained with baby spit-up, with Mia curled up on his chest, her little hand clutching his shirt and his hand resting on her back. It is possibly the sweetest thing she has ever seen.

Marie quickly snaps a picture, and just as she puts her phone away, Mia starts to stir and fuss. Carefully Marie moves Michael’s hand from Mia’s back and lifts her into her arms, gently bouncing her.

“It’s alright Mia, my love, I’ve got you. Let’s go get you some breakfast and let your daddy get some more sleep.” Marie quietly says.

A few minutes later, while Marie bounces Mia in her arms, waiting for her bottle to heat up, she feels a pair of hands land on her shoulders.

“Good morning.” Michael softly says, pressing a kiss to her cheek and stroking Mia’s hair. “Should you be up, Marie? Are you feeling well enough?” He adds in a worried tone. Marie laughs softly and lays a hand on his cheek.

“I’m more than fine, between a good nights sleep and my nanites I feel wonderful, did you sleep on the sofa with Mia, all night?” She asks, just realizing that Michael must not have come back to bed at all last night, after he got up with Mia at 4.

“I did, but I didn’t mind, she settled when I put her on my chest and I didn’t want to wake you by going back into the room, your rest is more important than mine, and Mia can sleep anywhere it seems.” Michael softly says, as Marie takes the bottle from the microwave and makes her way back to the sofa.

“You didn’t have to, I wouldn’t have been bothered if I woke up again, since we agreed to have a baby I’ve known that once the baby is here, we’ll be up multiple times through the night, it’s part of parenthood.” Marie explains, as Mia happily guzzles her milk.

“I know but it was important for you rest as much as possible last night, so you can heal as fast as possible, you went through a lot to bring Mia into the world, not just yesterday but over the last nine months, I just want you to be as healthy and happy as possible.” Michael quietly says.He doesn’t mind being the one to get up at night with Mia, as he said last night, Marie did all the hard work over the last nine months, now it’s his turn.

“I did, but it was more than worth it to get our Mia, and like I said I feel more than fine, you know people heal from childbirth much faster now, than they did in the mortal days. It’s not like it was back then when people were recovering for months and months.” Marie says, holding Mia against her shoulder and patting her little back.

“That’s true, I’ll try to stop fretting and worrying so much. We should let Citra, Rowan and Munira know that Mia is here, Citra and Rowan will probably want to come visit, and Munira is ready to book her flights.” Michael says with a grin. Over the last few months, Munira has grown use to the idea of he and Marie having a child, and has come to really like the idea of being an aunt to the baby, apparently she’s already bought her countless books, even though Mia can’t even see in color yet.

“We should, Citra tells me she’s already bought countless gifts for Mia, I don’t know where we’ll fit it all.” Marie laughs lightly, looking around her at the small house, which only has two bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and an open plan living room and kitchen. It’s nothing compared to Falling Water, but it’s absolutely perfect for her life now, her family.

Several hours later, while Marie rests in the bedroom, Michael receives a message from Munira, asking how he and Marie are, and if the baby has arrived yet. He texts back, asking her to video call him, wanting to surprise her with Mia, since no one but he and Marie know she’s here.

A few minutes after asking her to video call him, Michael answers Munira’s call. She is clearly sitting at a table or desk, her dark hair is swept up into a messy ponytail with strands hanging down around her face, and her glasses making her inquisitive brown eyes appear even bigger and more inquisitive.

“What’s going on Michael? You never want to video chat.” Munira asks by way of greeting, already suspicious of her friend’s behavior. Not only did he request a video chat when normally he detests them, he is also totally unkempt, she hasn’t seem in almost a year, but she knows Michael and knows that he is always a very neat, and well put together man, but now his hair is disheveled, he has let his goatee grow out a bit, and his top is creased and stained.

“Hello Munira, good to see you Munira, I’m fine thank you for asking.” Michael teases. Munira rolls her eyes, but can’t help grinning.

“Yes yes, now tell me why you are acting so suspicious.” She says.

“Well I’ve been keeping a little secret, a very little secret in fact.” Michael grins and lifts Mia up, resting his cheek against hers, holding her so that Munira can clearly see her. “Munira, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Mia Willow Wilson.”

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