#instead of voicing all of your doubts and insults to your TOUR GUIDE while the shopkeepers are RIGHT THERE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 7

Day 7 - There is a string tied around your pinky that only you can see, the end of it leads to your soulmate.

Pairing(s): Kid AU! Intrulogical

TWs: Remus being Remus [though not overly so, he’s like, 9 here], some swearing

–

Remus Castillo and Logan Smith were two very different children; former was creative and bursting with chaotic energy, while the latter preferred to be more logical, more stable. One studied hard into the night despite his young years, the other decided that a good time was filling a blender with crayons and silly putty to see what would happen. Both attended different schools, lived a good distance apart, and neither of their families knew the other existed.

What could possibly bring together such opposing forces?

If your answer wasn’t being forcibly dragged kicking and screaming from the local museum by security for tampering with the exhibits and screaming about historical theft, then congratulations; you’re most likely still sane.

How did these very different children meet, you ask?

The story began on a Friday lunchtime - as all good stories often do - when Sanders Elementary and Faraday Academy For Gifted Children both booked their museum visits for the same time slot. Thankfully, the museum staff speculated that they could indeed handle two classes of fourth graders at once - those poor, unfortunate souls - and decided to start both classes off on either sides of the museum with a little overlap.

Logan entered the foyer with his peers, gazing around at the array of trinkets and treasures adorning the space. Though he hungered for knowledge of all kinds, his heart was set on the cosmos, reaching for a copy of the museum’s map when his hand was blocked by another. He recoiled and turned to face the other; a boy with tanned skin as opposed to his own pasty complexion, with wild green eyes that bore into Logan’s own, and a grin like a shark about to snap Logan’s hand up in it’s jaws.

“I call dibs, four eyes!”

Logan huffed, straightening his glasses, “There are plenty of maps to go around, there is no need for rudeness-”

“Why do you talk like you’ve got a stick up your ass?”, the boy asked with no hint of remorse nor shame, “Just talk like a regular kid, jeez!”

Logan was flabbergasted. No one had ever talked to him like that before. Then again, no one ever really talked to him in general. Perhaps that was why his lonely little brain could only think to stammer out,

“Who ARE you!?”

The boy roared with laughter, “Wow, thats all you have to say!? And they call ME weird!” , he shot a hand out towards Logan’s, not removing the one touching the map, “I’m Remus! What’s your name, frankenstein?”

Logan huffed, “Logan Smith. And you know,”, he began, puffing his chest out proudly as he yanked the map away, “Frankenstein was the scientist, not the monster, therefore, you’re not insulting me-”

Without hesitation, Remus leant into Logan’s space and licked the map, causing Logan to jolt back and drop it. Picking up his spoils, Remus chuckled manically, “You look smart but you’re super dumb. Frankenstein IS the monster, dumbass, that’s the whole point.”. Without waiting for Logan’s rebuttal, Remus made his way back to his class, leaving Logan to frustratedly grab another map and return to his class, unaware of the string that formed around his pinky…

The tour was everything Logan had hoped for; an informative romp through space and time, enjoying the sights of the planetarium and a walk through a tunnel lined with geodes. And yet, all Logan could think about was that stupid boy who stole HIS map. Hmph! How dare Remus call him stupid! Whatever, at least they would stop soon to have lunch in the Polar Exhibit and he wouldn’t have to think about-

Oh god dammit.

As they entered the wide circular room, he laid eyes on the boy from before pretending to have gotten his tongue stuck to the giant fake iceberg in the centre of the room. Cheering him on was a gaggle of other children while their teacher seemed more content to just eat his own lunch and try to pretend it wasn’t his problem. Logan huffily stormed over to the nearest empty seat and popped open his Big Hero Six lunchbox, ready to moodily munch his jelly sandwiches when a painfully familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“We meet again, professor!”

Great.

“Remus.”, Logan hissed, though he tried to maintain composure, “A pleasure, I’m sure but I must be-”

“- crazy to run away from your soulmate?”, Remus finished, leaving Logan, once again, speechless.

“E-Excuse me!?”

“Check your pinkie, dingus.”

Logan checked and finally noticed the string, and to his horror, the end of it that tied itself around Remus’ pinkie.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for life! Unless I die, then you’re stuck with my corpse. Oooh! Maybe you can bring me back to life! Really earn that Frankenstein nickname-”

“This HAS to be a mistake!”, Logan squeaked, flustered and shocked by the news, “There’s no way YOU are my soulmate!”

Logan made eye contact with Remus and for a moment the boy looked hurt, but he plastered on a grin and poked Logan in the arm, “Nope! Fate thinks you’re my future husband, so suck it!”

Groaning, Logan let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine, then I suppose you should tell me about yourself, Remus.”. Logan would - for eternity and a day after - deny that the smile Remus gave him made his little heart flutter for the first time.

As the two ate, Remus went into a long tangent about his life and Logan found himself absolutely fascinated.

Remus Castillo had a twin brother, Roman, who enjoyed Disney movies and being “an overly wordy drama queen”. They had a single father, much like Logan’s own, whose wife had apparently decided she was destined for greater things that didn’t involve unplanned twin boys (Remus’ words, not his). Logan listened as Remus told him all about his family’s culture, having moved from Aguascalientes to Florida a year ago for work related reasons; retelling fond memories of watching the parade of Calaveras along the Avenida Madero with his father and brother each year. Logan found Remus really enjoyed a mixture of colourful and morbid subjects, each tangent sending Remus on a fun winding road down memory lane or through a vague memory of some educational book.

Logan Smith had wanted nothing to do with the boy who’d licked his hand and stolen his map, but as lunch ended and both classes were being called away to their respective classes, he found he didn’t want to be separated from Remus.

Very apparently, Remus didn’t want to either. If they way he was gasping Logan’s arm and hauling him towards the class from Sanders Elementary instead of his own was any indicator.

“Come on! You can hang with us! Roman won’t mind! And my buddy Remy’s lotsa fun too-”

“Remus Castillo, stop right there.”

Remus indignantly ignored his teacher, plowing through his sentence, “You’ll LOVE my class, they’re all weirdos like us-”

“REMUS!”, barked his teacher, already done with the nine year old terror, “You let that boy go this instant!”

Remus defiantly clung tighter to Logan’s arm, “No!”

“Remus Castillo, you’re to let go NOW.”

“But he’s my soulmate!”, Remus yelled, causing his classmates to chatter excitedly. It made Logan feel a little self conscious, but Remus didn’t seem to care, “Pleeeeease let him come with us!!”

His teacher rubbed his temples as if it could massage the exhaustion away, “That’s nice, but you are NOT going to cause more trouble, soulmate or not!”

By now, even the children and teacher from Logan’s academy were watching the commotion. It came to a head as Remus’ teacher tried to separate the two of them, earning the tiniest war cry from Remus as he stomped on his teacher’s foot and clung fully to Logan like his life depended on it.

“I’M NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HIM! I’LL STAY HERE UNTIL WE’RE A GROSS MUSHY PILE OF SKIN AND BONES IF I HAVE TO!”

With that pleasant image in his brain, Logan decided to perhaps appeal to his own teacher,

“Miss, can Remus perhaps stay with our group so we may avoid further-”

“Absolutely not,”, she turned up her nose at Remus’ display, “Our school has a reputation to uphold, I will not have it sullied by such a rude child.”

Well that backfired. Now both teachers were having to try and separate the two of them. It took two of the museum’s security personnel to finally haul Remus off of Logan, carrying the writhing child as they assured his teacher that they’d put him in the tantrum room. With the way they handled his feral yelling and attempts to grab at any nearby exhibits for something he could use to bash them with, this probably wasn’t their first Rabid Child Rodeo.

Logan watched dejectedly as they hauled his soulmate out of sight while his teacher ordered him to get in line as they continued their tour. He couldn’t focus on any of the various bewitching artifacts that the guide presented to them on their tour of the ancient world though, all he could think about was Remus. Alone. Stuck in some room. Missing out on the exhibits. Missing him.

“....Emile?”, Logan asked the boy standing to his left.

“Yes, Logan?”

“I’m about to do something very, very impulsive.”

“.... Okay?”

“And reckless.”

“...Right-”

“In the name of fate.”

“........”, Emile sighed, “What do you need me to do?”

“Either talk me out of what is likely a terrible decision that will without a doubt go on my permanent record and possibly disappoint my father. Or encourage me so that I may spend time with my soulmate for as long as possible.”

Emile shook his head, “Well, if cartoons have taught me anything, it’s that you’re gonna go for it no matter what I say so...”. He placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Make it good, Logan, I wanna remember the day the untouchable Logan Smith lost his mind.”. With a shared chuckle, Emile let him wind up for whatever he was about to do, while Logan waited for his moment. The tour guide was gesturing to an exhibit of ancient Mayan armour when Logan chose to strike, raising his hand while Emile awaited the fireworks show to come.

“Sir? I have a question.“

“Of course, what is it?”

“Did the museum ask permission to have that armour?”

The guide looked confused while Logan’s teacher looked ready to have an aneurysm.

“I… don’t understand what you mean. Anyway this-”

“I’m merely asking,”, Logan interrupted, ready to keep pushing until he would be hauled off by security, “because I believe that if it were my culture being mercilessly appropriated and stolen from, I would be rather upset.”

“We’re allowed to have it because it’s for education-”

“But it’s still stealing. And stealing is always wrong, correct?”

“Well, it-”

“It’s a yes or no question, please answer as such-”

Remus hadn’t expected company in the tantrum room, but he wasn’t complaining as Logan was marched in, looking positively proud of himself in spite of the way the security guard nearly tossed him inside with obvious frustration. With a bright grin, Remus pat the beanbag next to him, positively writhing with unbridled joy, “Spill! What’d you do?!”.

Logan tried to play stoic and prideful, but the excitement cracked through in his voice, “I merely inquired as to why museums considered their historical thievery to be ethically justified until the tour guide got angry and attempted to ignore me.”. “Sick!! Then what!?”, Remus’ delighted eyes met Logan’s with a similar sparkle of mischief.

Logan chuckled as he admired their string of fate, as people called it, slowly pulling his eyes from it to meet Remus’ again, “I screamed. Loudly. For quite the duration. I must say, I’m rather proud of my own lung capacity.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a fondness in it.

“Naturally, security came to try and calm the situation.”

“And then they brought you here?”

“No, they attempted to calm me down”, Logan snickered, “But, one of them put a hand on my shoulder rather rudely. So I bit them-” “YOU BIT ‘EM!?”, if Logan could bottle the light that radiated from Remus there and then, he would have, his own smile growing while his soulmate’s grin threatened to tear through his cheeks, “Logan, mi alma, you’re insane! I love it!”

“Mi alma?”, Logan queried, his cheeks losing the great blush war as his face radiated a nice rosy crimson.

“Oh, right!”, Remus explained, “It means ‘my soul’, it’s what people call their boyfriends ‘n’ stuff back home. I figured since you’re my soulmate, it makes sense to call you that!”

For a moment, Remus faltered, “Uh…. if you don’t mind I guess? It’s whatever, I’ll stop if you hate it-”

“No, no, I rather appreciate the sentiment,” , Logan awkwardly smiled back at Remus, “Mi alma?”

The wilder of the two threw his head back in a roar laughter, “Man, your pronunciation sucks! And that’s an easy one!“, he teased as he shuffled his beanbag closer to Logan’s and continued with a wild smile, “Looks like I gotta stay with you for sure now and make sure you get it right! You’re stuck with me, Nerdy Wolverine!”

It would be hard work convincing his father to let him move schools to be with Remus, Logan knew that. Despite the fact his father adored love in all forms and regarded the bond of soulmates as sacred, Logan knew it’d logically be a hard sell to ask his father to not only pull him out of an expensive academy, but also to have him possibly move home or make a rather lengthy commute.

But as Remus’ had met Logan’s, the latter found himself locking fingers with his wild soulmate, banishing that thought while they still had time together. Whether it would work out right away, after a couple of months, or even over the course of a few years, they’d make it work.

“Falsehood,”, Logan smirked, “I believe it’s you that’s stuck with me.”

-----------

Okay, this one’s the cutest thing hands down. I’m so proud of this one! As a tidbit, I had it in mind that their single fathers were Janus for the twins and Patton for Logan.

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

#intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate september #my fics #fanfics #theyre so cute i cry #also incase its confusing #i figured that in this universe #people probably still get married and such like #to people who arent their soulmates #if they feel they want to just settle down but that they won't meet their soulmate #so thats the explaination for Janus being a single parent #as for patton #i like to thing he just adopted logan

383 notes · View notes

eryiss · 3 years

Text

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Fruity

Summary: Being personal security for the president, Laxus always had to be alert, particularly in a foreign country. This would be fine, if it weren't for the beautiful waiter who kept catching his eye at every moment.

Notes: This is for day five of Fraxus Week 2021. As normal, check out @fuckyeahfraxus for more content.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

From the Fields of Italy

Year: 1922

Location: Rome, Italy

Dissasosaition was a key part of Laxus' job. Being a member of the President's personal security team meant he was privy to multiple private and politically significant conversations. Debates, arguments, and compromises would be made in front of him, and he would learn things that a man of his station had no right knowing. Another man might have taken the opportunity to eavesdrop, but Laxus cared little for that. His entire focus was to be on protecting his charge, and as such the politics were unimportant.

Particularly when the dick seemed to stand against everything Laxus cared about.

It had become necessary to learn to focus on other things. Counting the bricks on a nearby building, watching as people passed by, and sometimes going so far as to make up little rhymes and brain teasers in his head. It all allowed him to drown out the bullshit the president was talking about, and better do his job.

Of course, he did focus. Anyone approaching the president was immediately a danger, and Laxus had to watch every move they made, particularly when they were out of country. When Laxus had been told that the president would be undergoing a European tour to better connect with the other countries now that the war was long over, he had known it would be difficult. Anyone might take issue with the president's international opinions, and as such Laxus needed to be wary of everyone near him.

This would have been acceptable – it was his job, after all – but an issue had arisen. The waiter.

The beautiful waiter

Even thinking of the man as beautiful was unprofessional. Laxus was there to do a job, not indulge in his own interests. It was why he'd been consistently given small rooms, cheap and uncomfortable seats in the flight, and little to no respect from his employers. He was there to do a job, not to enjoy himself.

But there was something about the man that was alluring. He was of a good height, with slighter features than Laxus' own but strong in his own sense. His skin had the slight tan that came with the European sun, and a single mark below his eye was the only break from perfect symmetry. His long hair swished down his back in long, silky strands, and Laxus had found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his hand through.

The man was serving the president, who didn't give him a second glance. He brought water, food, and cutlery without making his presence known, and yet Laxus was transfixed. He was quietly elegant in his movements, walking with the slightest sway and it felt like he was dancing around the room with each step.

How was nobody else being affected by this?

Maybe they were, and just hid it. That's what Laxus was forced to do. He stood as part of a circle of six, allowing the president to eat safely in the public restaurant. No doubt the people around them posed no actual threat; even if the stop in the restaurant looked impromptu, it had been planned months in advance and no doubt all the people had booked upon hearing it, and had been checked over time and time again. It was all for show; just a gentle reminder that, although the Italian people might not be pleased about the president's actions during the war, they couldn't do anything about it. They needed to look stone faced and intimidating.

The waiter wasn't at all intimidated. He was completely uncaring towards the fact the president was before him, and instead acted as though he was any other customer. He'd even asked the president a question directly, and was unblinking at the glare he was given for his rudeness.

Watching the man was like watching a show. Laxus just didn't know how it would end.

By the time, the main course had been brought out, Laxus had regained his focus. He was there to protect the man sitting and eating, not to be quietly fascinated by the man who was bringing him his food. Laxus got passing fancies on men often, it was natural given his inclination for men and the inability to actually follow through on anything because of his duties. This was no more than seeing a man he would like to dance with at a club. The waiter just had the unfamiliar addition of not being American, and therefore felt somewhat exotic.

He'd told himself that, and convinced himself it was true, until the desserts were brought out. The waiter placed them before the president and his party and, just as he turned to return to the kitchen, he looked to Laxus and smiled.

Laxus felt like he'd been struck.

No smile had affected him, not in any way. Laxus was hardly a romantic person, and the idea that someone might smile at you and turn your world around was overly sweetened crap written in books to appeal to lonely people. But as the waiter looked at him for just the smallest of moments, hair falling across his face slightly as his white teeth split apart, he felt nauseous and ignited all at once. He couldn't think of any other way to describe it.

The man went back to the kitchen, and Laxus knew his stance had wavered and his concentration gone. For a moment he stood in a gaping silence, wanting to both flee the scene and to storm into the kitchen to demand an explanation for what had happened. Instead, he caught the eye of his commander, who glared him back to attention.

He just had to ignore the waiter. Push him to the back of his mind, and within the hour he'd be gone.

---

"What are you eating?"

The words were a silky-smooth sensation, and deeply Italian. Laxus took a moment to realise that he was being addressed, and turned with the smallest of frowns to see who had spoken to him. He was alone, and he certainly didn't know anyone who spoke in such a chocolatey accent. Nobody on his team had even half the rumbling baritone, and he found himself wondering who that voice would belong to.

When he turned and saw the waiter, he froze.

How was the man here? It was the evening now, and Laxus was nowhere near the restaurant the waiter worked at. He was somewhere tucked away, not in the tourist areas of the city but not exactly near the residential areas. He supposed this was where a pretentious man might call the 'Real Italy.' Did the man live here?

Before he could fall into questions, he realised what the waiter had asked. He looked down to the chalky lettuce and cheese sandwich he'd been given for his evening meal, then back to the man who was frowning at him.

"A sandwich," Laxus said, because what else could he say.

"A sandwich," The waiter parroted.

"Yes."

"You realise that you're insulting everyone from my country by eating that here, don't you?"

"If you wanna take it up with my commander, feel free."

"You could not buy something more respectable?"

"Not allowed to carry money around."

Why was he talking with the man? Well, he knew at least in part it was because he had been truly spellbound by the man, and the revelation of his incredible voice had only further added to the man's majesty. Laxus was not one to shy away from strong emotions – not that he felt them often – and he wasn't going to cower now that an opportunity had presented itself to him. But why were they talking about his dinner?

The man, in the dimming sun, looked radiant. He still wore the uniform of the restaurant, but his hair hung loose now, and he seemed more relaxed. Now, without the need to watch his charge, Laxus could see the sharp cut of the man's jaw and the deceptive fragility of his skin. He truly was beautiful.

"That is ridiculous, and certainly not acceptable," The waiter sounded affronted. "Come."

Laxus processed the demand a moment later, and found himself following him before he could think. Both survival instincts and training deemed this a stupid idea – he was following a total stranger through an unfamiliar city – and yet he did it anyway. The man had authority, and Laxus had been attracted by it.

"I would have thought you'd be looking after that repulsive man you deemed fit to lead you," The waiter commented when Laxus was in step with him. So he had remembered Laxus then; he hadn't been sure.

"Night off," Laxus shrugged. "And I don't think he's fit to lead. But the vote said that he was."

"And yet you still serve him?"

"It's a living."

"Hardly seems like living when you're leaning against a building eating bread and cheese because of your commander while in a cultural monolith known for its delicacies," The man hummed aloud, turning a corner, and increasing his pace. "In my mind, that it more a way to get money than a way to live."

"It is what it is."

"Your employer ate at a lavish restaurant, had four courses and larger servings than normal," The man shrugged. "It was expensive. The money could have been diverted from him to you."

"That's not how it works."

The waiter didn't say anything after that. He kept walking, and Laxus kept following.

Eventually, an open-air marketplace appeared, and the waiter walked directly towards it. Laxus kept in pace, allowing himself to be guided through the vendors who shouted for their attention and custom. Laxus' Italian was bad at best, and so the shouting merged into a mess of unfamiliar slang, and so he let the waiter take the lead completely. He spoke to vendors, passers-by, and did so with beautifully fluent Italian. Logically Laxus knew that would be the case – the man was Italian for god's sake – but it was beautiful to hear.

Quickly, they were at the other end of the market, and the waiter had accrued a hamper of food and a bottle of wine. He'd paid for it all himself and, as their conversation hadn't continued, Laxus found himself wondering where his place in the situation was. Still, he followed.

"Sit," The waiter said again, motioning to a small stone wall overlooking a stream.

"You're demanding," Laxus commented, but he did sit.

"And you work a job where you follow orders of a man you don't like, so I suspect it won't bother you," The waiter sat on the wall also, and placed the hamper between them. "My name is Freed. What's yours?"

"Laxus."

"It's strong," Freed commented, unwrapping some of the food from the hamper. He made a gesture towards the food as he uncorked the wine. "Eat."

"What?"

"Eat."

Laxus looked down to the hamper of food. It was filled mainly with fresh and colourful looking fruit, but also wrapped packets of cheese, biscuits and two small pastries. He hesitated for a moment, and glanced up towards Freed. The man was looking at him with a peculiar mix of intensity and patience, and Laxus felt himself flushing slightly as he reached into the hamper and tentatively picked up a strawberry. Freed waited patiently, watching Laxus as he slowly brought the strawberry to his lips and bit into it.

Well, he certainly didn't expect it to taste quite so… vibrant.

Apparently, his expression must have betrayed his shock, as Freed laughed openly. Laxus wanted to glare, but instead found himself hypnotised as Freed lifted the opened wine to his lips and drank straight from the bottle. Good god, did the man know what he was doing to Laxus?

"You must have travelled a lot over the past few weeks," Freed stated, reaching into the hamper, and pulling out the wrapped cheese. He pulled out a chunk of it, crumbled it and placed it onto a cracker. He then picked up a single grape, placed it atop the cheese and ate it. Laxus found himself following the movement of his neck as Freed swallowed.

"Suppose so," Laxus nodded.

"Anywhere particularly interesting to you?"

"Not really," Laxus replied. He hesitated for a moment, then looked down to the hamper of food and pulled out an apple. He bit into it before he could second-guess himself. "It's my second night off since we landed, and the first night was at a docking town so hardly beautiful."

"Good," Freed commented. "Rome will look rather good in comparison then."

"So far, yeah."

"Perhaps one day you will return as a tourist?"

"Doubt it, can't afford it."

"Shame," Freed hummed, looking towards Laxus with the same beautiful smile that sent a flicker through Laxus' spine. "You should make the most of your night here."

"Suppose I should."

They were quiet, and Laxus could feel Freed's eyes roaming over him unapologetically. Laxus didn't do anything to stop it, and instead took a bite of his apple and allowed the man's eyes to wander. He might have tensed his bicep when he knew Freed was looking at his arms, and Freed laughed but made no complaint.

He looked beautiful when he laughed and Laxus wondered how he could get better. He was quickly answered because what Freed did made him radiant.

It was nothing, really. He simply had taken one of the large peaches that he'd brought and bit into it. That was hardly anything, and yet it made Laxus' stomach churn. The way the mans eyes closed, the way his teeth closed around the fruit, the way the juice seemed to intentionally drip down his throat, coating it in an indescribable sheen of fruit-flavoured droplets that reflected the flickering lights surrounding them.

When Freed's eyes opened again, he looked directly to Laxus. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning Laxus' face, before he grinned a little. It was a private sight, and Laxus found himself copying the expression.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice quieter. "Make the most of it while you're here."

Laxus didn't need to be told twice. He leant forward and pressed their lips together, the tantalising taste of fruit and cheese melding as they leant into one another. Laxus did what he'd wanted to do the moment he saw Freed, and wrapped a hand deep into his hair, and slowly began to stroke it as he leant into the man. Freed groaned slightly, tilting his chin, and kissing him deeper.

He didn't care that someone might see him, it didn't matter. He was in an unknown city from a foreign country where nobody knew him, and he would indulge himself. He would take what he wanted, and delight in the company of this beautiful man and take whatever he would be given.

He deserved this, and if nothing else, he would always have the memory of kissing the enchantingly handsome man. An untainted memory for him to cherish.

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #Bodyguard Au #1920s AU #Word Count 2.5k

15 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

Gift of Magi; Brian May x reader

*Author’s note*

Here is yet another little special Christmas fic I have for you all. If you loved my Joe Mazzello one then you guys are REALLY GONNA ROT YOUR TEETH WITH THIS SWEET FIC. As you can see by the title, this is inspired by the beloved Christmas tale of the same name, for a year now since getting into the Queen/BoRhap fandom I’ve wanted to do this fic with one of the members of Queen but I didn’t know which one to do it with. Finally after doing some thinking and planning and realizing I hadn’t really done a solo Brian May fic in a long time, I decided our beloved space poodle DESERVED this story. Enjoy my lovelies :)

Warnings: TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Brian’s sickness (takes place in 1974 so that’s when he had his hepatitis scare along with some other things I had read up that happened during that time), Roger’s chaotic behavior, Freddie being a loving fairy godmother (you’ll see soon enough), and fluff, fluff, and you guessed it EVEN MORE FLUFF!!

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

_______________________________________________________________

There it was. The perfect gift for Brian. The Refractor telescope, 30 power. Don’t ask me what I just said cause I wouldn’t be able to tell you what all it does. All I can say is that Bri’s been eyeing this bad boy for years and with an empty tripod he’s had since graduating University, he needed something to look up at the stars with (one of his classes he had to rent out a telescope and then return it to the professor once the semester ended).

Yeah dating an astrophysicist Rockstar is one thing, but shopping for said astrophysicist rockstar is another, especially around the holidays and birthdays. Sure he says all he needs is my love but I want to prove myself to him. Plus I want to give him something special after the major health scare he had when he and Queen were touring with Mott the Hoople at the beginning of the year.

It was horrifying but I was there to help Brian recover from his Hepatitis scare and assure him that the band wasn’t going to replace him (bless his little heart, he was so sure the band was gonna abandon him) but they didn’t and they were there whenever they could, also they would send in some demos for me to play for Brian so that he could still have a say in the songs for their Sheer Heart attack album.

Now that Queen was slowly now getting recognized for their talents after “Killer Queen” made the top 10 in the charts, scratch that the entire album was going up the charts I wanted Brian to have something special to go with his tripod.

I took out my wallet and counted up my tips that I had been saving all year to buy this telescope. I was still a few pounds short but after today I should finally have enough to buy the telescope for my guy.

“Don’t you worry Bri. You’ll see the stars once again.” I put the money back in the side pouch of my purse and looked down at my watch. “Shit I’m gonna be late for work!” I exclaimed and quickly raced down the block towards the tree shop. I had taken a second job at the Christmas tree shop to help with getting better tips for Brian’s telescope.

When I finally arrived, I walked into the open tree lot and punched in my timecard before the loud exclamation of my boss’ voice cried out.

“YOU’RE LATE!!”

“I’m sorry sir, I was……”

“Doesn’t matter! Now get out there and get those papers organized we’ve got customers out there who need trees!” I nodded and quickly went over to my desk and took out some of the reserved papers that some people filled out to confirm their tree orders.

The day was long and cold but every little penny counted. I filled out the paperwork, helped the customer’s find their tree and even bypassed the boys at the shop and helped put the trees on top of the customer’s cars.

“Welcome to Mad Pete’s Tree shop how may I help you?”

“Yeah see my mate here is looking for a pretty cute tree, around (y/h), (h/c) and has two of the star glistening eyes he’s ever seen.” I looked up and low and behold there stood Roger and Brian.

“Really Rog? Did you have to go and say all that?”

“Hey bout time you got a taste of your own medicine of what we’ve had to deal with everytime you miss (n/n)!” I shook my head softly chuckling.

“So you guys really here to shop for a tree or are you trying to get me into trouble with the boss again?”

“Hey Fred and I did not cause that fire!” Roger defended himself.

“You guys were the only ones smoking at the time, you’re lucky I didn’t get fired from that little stunt.” I sassed him. Brian gave him a disapproving look while Roger tried to brush it off, but as soon as he saw my scowl, he submitted and put on that puppy dog face of his.

“Sorry lovie. Can you forgive me?” I went up to him and embraced him.

“Of course I do yah big puppy dog.” I ruffled his long golden locks which made him exclaim as he tried to fix his hair back to normal.

“Oi! Do you know how long it takes for me to get my hair like this? It’s called a miracle darling.”

“Now you didn’t answer my question, what are you guys really doing here?”

“We figured we’d go and get us a tree since we couldn’t get one last year. Since we got some money now instead of hardly anything.” Brian said.

“Ahh I see. Well let’s see what I can help you with. Follow me gentlemen.” I guided them towards the back and there were some of the smaller trees that hadn’t been reserved and that could be affordable for Bri and Rog. “I know it’s not much but I know you guys can afford these trees. Pete’s been trying to skyrocket the prices, especially for his prized 10 footers.”

“It’s perfect love, thank you.” He kissed me softly on my lips. I slowly wrapped my arms around him when I felt him take my string necklace revealing my great grandmother’s diamond encrusted locket. “You know, that locket deserves a beautiful golden chain.”

“Brian.” I took his hand in mine and held it against my cheek. “You know you don’t have to.”

“But I want to. Just imagine in, that scared locket chained up to a beautiful chain around that pretty neck of yours.” I blushed and pressed my head against his chest.

“You flatterer. You may not know your way around the dance floor but you have a way with words. No wonder you’re an astrophysicist. Speaking of which, you still got that tripod right?”

“Yeah. I still keep it cleaned, even though I’ll never be able to afford a telescope of my own for years if I’m lucky.” Oh little does he know.

“Well you never know. Santa has his ways.”

“You know love, it’s kinda weird how you still believe in Santa Clause even at your age.” Brian said. I let out a dramatic gasp.

“How dare you! You are never told old to believe in Father Christmas. Right Rog?”

“Damn straight! Just ignore your boyfriend (n/n), he thinks he’s too clever for Christmas.” Rog said as he took me away from Brian and wrapped an arm around my neck.

“Now hold on I didn’t—” a throat cleared and that’s when I saw a middle aged couple with their two small children. The father who had a greying beard and wore some prescription circular glasses.

“Excuse me, we—we’re looking for a tree.” He said shyly.

“Oh did I hear you folks looking for a tree? Well step right over here and I’ll show you the best trees I’ve got!” Pete soon came in saying and guided the parents away from the smaller trees, right towards his prized 10ft. I glared at him and turned to the guys.

“Think you both can find a tree yourselves?”

“No worries love. Do what you’ve got to do. I’ll see you tonight though right?”

“Of course. I’ll be over at your flat by 6pm on the dot. At least I’ll be on time unlike you are, yah scatterbrain.” He gave me that disapproving scowl (you know where he tilts his head down and his brow raises up and a deep frown crosses his lips). I giggled and pecked his lips and said, “You know I love you right?”

“With those insults I’m starting to doubt it.” He mocked. I playfully swatted his arm which made him chuckle then I proceeded to follow the family to get them a more affordable tree.

After looking and looking through the very back of the lot, I had found the perfect tree that would suit the family just right. I took it around to where Pete had his 10 footers displayed.

“I really am sorry madam but the rest of my trees have been reserved, these are the only ones I’ve got. You don’t want these kids going without a tree this year do you?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“We are gonna get a tree? Aren’t we daddy?” the little girl around 5 years old said.

“But—this is all we have.” The father said as he took out what looked like one pound and threepenny pieces.

“Then that’s just enough for a down payment.” Mr. Pete said as he readied the contract. Okay that’s it.

“Ugg excuse me!” I made myself known. “I’m sorry to interrupt but uhh—I managed to find this out back. It hasn’t been reserved or anything, maybe you and your family would like this.” I walked up with the tree and set it down.

The kids all ooed and awed at it, it was just slightly bigger than the two of them were. The father shoved the contract back into Mr. Pete’s hands and he said to me joyously.

“We’ll take it! Oh thank you so much miss.”

“No problem, let me help you get this tree set up onto your car.” I took the father’s money for the tree and walked with them back to their car.

As they drove away waving and thanking me for the help, I waved goodbye back to them and wished them a Merry Christmas. I counted up my tips and felt my heart skip a beat.

“I did it. I—I actually did it! Oh it’s finally enough to get Brian that telescope!” I cheered as I jumped up and down until a shadow came over me. I stopped and slowly turned around and saw Mr. Pete seething down at me, his cigar bit between his yellow teeth.

“I HAD THEM HOOKED ONTO BUYING ONE OF MY TEN FOOTERS!!” he yelled in my face which made me slip and fall flat on my back in the snow. “And I’ve decided to take what I would’ve made out of your payment!” he snatched my bag of tips out of my hand.

“No let go of that! I need it for someone special’s Christmas gift!” I exclaimed as I tugged on the other end of it trying to take it back.

“Not. My. Problem!” he said. With one final good yank, I was once again back in the snow as Mr. Pete pocketed my tip bag. “And just for the record. YOU’RE FIRED!!” he walked away from me with my bag of tips. Not just from working at his lot but my waitressing job tips as well.

Of course I wasn’t upset about getting fired from the Christmas tree lot, I was just upset that all my hard work was now for nothing. Guess I’ll be going to Brian’s empty handed. I stood up, brushed the snow off my pants and walked away solemnly from the lot.

Thinking just how in the hell I’m gonna get Brian that telescope now. There’s no way I could come up with the money by 4 o’clock today.

*Brian’s POV*

After picking out the perfect tree from the lot, Roger and I drove down back to the flat. As we drove down the road I quickly said to Roger.

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Just pull over Rog!” I snapped. He muttered angrily and pulled the car into the pawnshop parking lot and I quickly stepped out and went up to the window and saw it. The gold chain I’ve had my eyes on to give to (Y/n) to go with her locket.

“Forget it Bri, you’ll never afford it!” I heard Roger exclaim from the car. I glared down and turned towards him.

“You underestimate me Rog.”

“All I’m saying is that we barely had enough to buy this tree. Trident is really screwing us over with our payment. John’s trying his best but he can’t seem to prove it legally. Yet.” He said to me.

“I know. It’s just I want to give (Y/n) the perfect gift this year. After everything that’s happened especially with my health, I want to show her just how much she’s meant to me. Without her I—I doubt I would even be standing here right now.”

“Now don’t go getting sappy on me now mate. (N/n) is a diamond in the rough, but you know she’s never wanted any riches or fame. All she ever says she needs in the world is you. God now you got me talking sappy! I hate you both sometimes!”

“Oh what? Mr. Hard-rocker can’t take a little sweetness in his life?” I teased as I got back in the car.

“Shut up or I’ll run your arse over.” He threatened. I softly chuckled as Roger pulled away from the pawnshop.

Soon. I’ll get that gold chain soon enough. I just need to figure out a plan, but I only have 6 hours left so I need to think fast.

*My POV*

GRRRRR!!! Why can’t life be like a fairytale sometimes? I sure could use a fairy godmother right about now to give me enough money for Brian’s telescope. I sat down at a nearby park bench and fiddled with my locket.

“(Y/n)?” I perked up my head. “(Y/n) darling is that you?” I looked up and there I saw Freddie with row upon row of shopping bags.

“Freddie? Wha…..what are you doing here?”

“Doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Of course shopping for that man of yours is a nightmare! Okay a living hell! No offense.”

“None taken. He—can be difficult to shop for at times.” I said solemnly. Freddie cocked his head curiously like one of his cats and he asked me.

“You okay dear? No offense but you look like someone threw you in a dumpster and the dumpster spat you back out.”

“I could be better.” He came over and set his bags down at our feet and he said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“C’mon. You tell ol’ Freddie what happened darling? Why are you so down at this festive time of the year?”

“To put it bluntly, I got fired from Pete’s tree lot.”

“What?! Alright that’s it I am going to march straight down there and have a little chat with Mr. Pete.” I grabbed Fred’s arm and said.

“That’s not what’s bothering me though Fred. Honestly, I could care less whether or not I worked there next year or not.”

“Then what else happened that made you so sad?”

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Brian?” he gasped.

“Please tell me you’re pregnant.”

“What no! No! Fred that’s not it at all. You see, you know how Brian always has that empty tripod at yall’s flat?” he nodded. “Well I did some digging and found the perfect telescope that can go with his tripod. Since the start of the year I’ve been saving up all my tips just to get him that telescope. The tree lot’s really been helping my tips grow compared to my waitressing job. And today I managed to reach my goal.”

“Well that’s great so—”

“But that’s when Pete took my tip bag away. All of it.”

“What!? Why the fuck would he do something like that!?”

“Because I stopped him from selling this sweet family an expensive 10ft. tree. They knew they couldn’t afford it yet Pete was pressuring them. So I sold them a small and affordable tree and they were excited about what I showed them and took it. Pete said he was gonna take what he would’ve made off the tree out of my pay. So he took everything. My entire bag of tips that have been saved since this year.”

“That low-life…..you sure you don’t need me to go ‘speak’ to him?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore Fred. I only have 2 hours till the shop closes and no way of paying for that telescope. Now Brian will never be able to look up at the stars the way he dreams of doing.” I leaned my head against Fred’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms around me, gently rubbing my arm and pressed a soft kiss on top of my head.

“You know what I always found to be the cure for a sour face?” he asked me.

“What?”

“Trying on new clothes. C’mon let’s go down to BIBA and pick you something nice to wear for the party. My treat.”

“No, no Fred I can’t do that. Plus what about your shopping?”

“Ahhh I was done with it anyways. Now c’mon. Maybe taking your mind off of your sad morning will help you come up with a plan. And here why don’t you take this?” he reached down and grabbed one of his shopping bags. “It’s something I was planning on giving to that space man of yours, but it seems you need it more than I do.”

“Freddie I—I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take it. That way you can at least not feel guilty of coming to our flat empty handed. And maybe give me a sneak peek of what to expect from you for my Christmas present.”

“In your dreams Mercury. I never spill Christmas secrets.”

“Damn it!” he pouted.

“C’mon you, I was promised a shopping trip so I expect you to deliver.”

“Darling have you met me?” he stood up and I helped him with some of his bags and the two of us walked towards BIBA.

After finally getting into a warm store, I shivered and rubbed my arms frantically trying to get some friction on them and warm myself up. Freddie and I then proceeded to try out some clothes.

Freddie was right. After awhile of trying out various types of clothing and giving Fred my personal opinion on what he could possibly wear for a future concert, I was starting to feel better. Currently I was trying on a winter hat and looking at myself in the mirror.

“Hold everything (Y/n) darling! I’ve found the perfect thing for you!” I heard Freddie exclaim all the way from the other side of the store. I buried my face under the hat as people looked towards me. Fred came racing over to me and he held up a cute red Christmas shawl with little snowflakes on it.

“Oh my god this is cute!” Fred then tied it around my neck but tied it in a fashion knot, making sure my locket was the key feature showing above my shawl.

“Figured this could go great with your great-grammy’s locket. That thing is worth millions.”

“Yeah. Pure diamond encrusted and……” I trailed off. “That’s it. THAT’S IT!! Fred what time is it?!” I asked him urgently.

“Uhh it’s uhh…..10 till 4.”

“Uggh! There’ll be no time to get there by the road. Nevermind I’ll just run. Yeah run as fast as I can to the shop and get Brian’s telescope! Thanks Fred you’re the best but you can take Brian’s gift back I think I’ve found the perfect way to get Brian that telescope!” I ripped the shawl off my neck and handed it back to Fred and raced out of BIBA and ran as fast as I could.

Now running and snow are not a good combination but I couldn’t stop now. Not even as I was slipping and sliding along the crosswalks, all that mattered to me was getting to that shop on time. I would look up towards Big Ben to see how much time I had left and time was running short.

I still had about six blocks till I got to the shop and I was down to my final 3 minutes on the clock. I soon spotted some teenager boys sledding up along some railings and bus benches. I walked up to one of them and quickly asked them if I could borrow his sled for a moment.

At first he pondered on the though till finally he agreed to let me have it. I told him where he could come collect it in the next five minutes and I proceeded to sled the rest of the way to the shop.

Now gaining some speed, I could see the shop just down the hill. I took a deep breath and proceeded to slid down the street towards the shop but as I got halfway that’s when Big Ben began to gong out the next hour. GONG……GONG…..GONG…..GONG!

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! As I got to the bottom I saw the shop starting to close up, the lights went off and soon the old shopkeeper came out and locked up. I stood up and ran towards him.

“Wait sir wait!” he turned to me. He was an elderly man roughly around his mid-60s, he wore prescription glasses and his hair was white and thinning, he also was growing out a small white beard. “I—I was wondering if you’d be willing to make a trade?” I took my great-grandmother’s locket off my rope chain. “I was hoping to trade in this locket for that telescope you have on display. The 30 power Refractor one. It’s for my guy.”

He took the locket from my hands and observed it closely. He hummed sadly and said.

“Sorry ma’am. That there is a pretty locket but it won’t do much in my shop.” He handed me back the locket and pocketed his keys. “Well, Merry Christmas.” He told as he began to walk away.

“Please sir this locket was a family heirloom. It belong to my great grandmother back in the early 1890’s. It’s diamond encrusted and pure gold you can see if for yourself.” I said walking alongside him, showing him the locket once again. He sighed and told me.

“I know love but—what I sell in my shop is stuff people actually use in their lives. And as I said before as pretty and as valuable as that locket is, no one will want it in my shop.” I stopped and looked down heartbroken. He hummed sympathetically and continued as he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder “Tell you what, why not go down to the pawnshop across town and you can sell it there? Then once you got the money, come back here the day after Christmas and then we’ll discuss about that Refractor 30 power telescope.”

“But I need it by tonight. This was my last chance to get my Brian something special after the horrid year he’s had. I would give anything in the world to get him that telescope, even if it’s a precious family heirloom.”

“Anything?” he asked quizzically. “Tell me poppet what else are you planning on giving for that there telescope?” he said with his arms crossed.

“I’d give all my love if I could. As sappy as that sounds but it’s true. Brian he’s—” I looked towards the sky and could already see the first star in the sky. “He’s my shining star.” I heard the shopkeeper chuckle.

“Now that’s how you make a sale. Sure wish there were more young compassionate lovers like you and this man of yours. Reminds me of me and my wife Gertrude. God rest her soul. C’mon in come on in and we’ll discuss that trade.” I smiled and in my adrenaline of pure joy, I hugged the old man and heard him softly chuckle.

Later that night, I arrived at the boy’s flat ready for the Queen Christmas party. The boys along with Mary, Veronica, and Roger’s girlfriend Jo were all there by the time I arrived. We had a warm and delicious Christmas eve dinner and exchanged the gifts. First the guys gave out gifts to each other, then us girls proceeded to give our gifts to each other.

I had gotten Ronnie some baby clothes (yes she was a couple of months pregnant at the time and had given us the big announcement just a month ago). I gave Jo a copy of her favorite Jimi Hendrix album, and as for Mary I got her some new makeup from the latest designer line.

I had gotten some winter hats and scarves from Mary, a copy of my favorite Shakespeare play from Ronnie, and Jo got me the new Beatles album.

After most of the gifts had been exchanged, I quickly went to the back of the tree and pulled out my gift for Brian. I groaned and heaved it up.

“Jesus (n/n) what did you get him a pool table?” Roger asked as he lit up his cigarette.

“Ha-ha you’re hilarious Taylor.” I sassed sarcastically. I then turned to Brian and I said to him, “Hey Bri, why don’t you go get that tripod out from your room?” he chuckled nervously and fiddled around with his shirt collar nervously as he said.

“Actually….why don’t you open yours first? And maybe even let us see that locket of yours. I don’t think Jo’s ever seen it before.” Now I started getting nervous.

“Oh she wouldn’t be interested in that old thing. Here, why don’t we open our gifts together?”

“At least do something!” Freddie and John both slapped Roger over the head making him exclaim in pain. Brian handed me my gift, a small but beautiful wrapped box with a gorgeous red bow, while I carefully handed him my giant box.

The two of us unwrapped our gifts and opened up the tops and my eyes widened as I let out a soft gasp.

“A—a gold chain to go with my……locket.”

“Oh my god (Y/n)! You got me the Refractor 30 power telescope for my—tripod.” Wait why did he trail off at the end? I turned to him and saw that he had a sorrow-filled expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

“Oh (Y/n) I love it. I really do, I’ve always wanted my own telescope it’s just—” he sighed heavily. “I just had to trade that old tripod to get you that gold chain.”

“What?”

“Pawnshop’s son was into space and he needed a tripod for his telescope. So I told the pawnshop owner that I had one since that one was practically collected dust instead of stars.” Oh Brian.

“And I traded my locket to get you that telescope.” Brian and everyone else softly gasped.

“Oh (Y/n), I can’t believe you would trade away a family heirloom for me.” Brian said.

“I would’ve given anything Brian. After—everything that’s happened this year. From your hepatitis scare, to the ulcer and even fear of losing your arm I—wanted to give you something special. I don’t care if it costed me an arm, leg or even my own heart. I would’ve done anything to at least see you smile that real Brian May smile I’ve come to love.”

He cupped the side of my face and brought me closer to him, our lips joining together in a soft, delicate, loving kiss. Of course Roger and Fred just had to make it embarrassing by telling Bri to give me more tongue.

“Come with me.” He silently said urgently as he guided me out to the small backyard behind their flat. “There now we got some privacy away from the pests that is Freddie and Roger. I swear those two are mentally 5 years old 24/7.”

“Well Fred is, Rog is more like 3 years old.” He snorted out a soft laugh.

“Anyways what I wanted to bring you out here to tell you is that while I appreciate what you did to get me the telescope, you didn’t have to trade your locket. I know how much it meant to you.”

“I know but like I said earlier, I would’ve given anything to see you smile again.”

“Just being by my side is enough to make me smile.” He said as he cupped each side of my face, his calloused thumbs caressed my cheeks. I smiled and he pressed his forehead against mine, our noses gently nuzzling against one another’s before he captured my lips in another kiss.

For the rest of the night, we all sang some Christmas songs, watched some Christmas films and when it got late we all decided to turn in for the night. I was in Brian’s room, the two of us cuddled up close on his bed.

“I just hope by next Christmas we’ll have ourselves a house.” He said.

“Let’s take it one step at a time my love.” I said as I tucked my hand into his unbuttoned t-shirt softly stroking his collarbone and gave the junction between his neck and shoulder a kiss. “For now I’m content to how this Christmas turned out.”

“Me too. Even though we basically recreated the gift of Magi tale.” I smiled and felt Brian kiss the top of my head which his fingers slowly stroked up and down my spine. “Happy Christmas my stardust.”

“Happy Christmas my space man.” Brian covered the two of us with his duvet and we fell into a peaceful slumber in his arms.

60 notes · View notes

mandala-lore · 3 years

Text

Program: Scrapbook - Chap. 1: Activation

I choose to believe Dr. Soong DID leave memories for Data on the emotion chip. I see the canon and I politely decline. I’m planning a few more of these chapters, in which Data will watch these memories play out on the holodeck and then have brief commentary after each one. I would apologize for the female OC but, y’know, if the writers had given Data a decent romance arc, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. Anyway, I’m particularly pleased with my Lore characterizations so I hope other people enjoy pain as much as I do. :)

This is more or less canon compliant, except that at some point, Data reactivated Lore for research purposes...and, of course, the sinlord promptly escaped into the galaxy. For later plot reasons.

Also posted on ao3.

“Here. We. Go.” Dr. Soong took a tentative step back to give his new creation some room. Over the last few stages, they had learned that android activation could be at least as traumatic and confusing as human birth. Julianna squeezed his hand gently.

The constructed body on the table opened its eyes and sat up slowly, looking dazed. As the eyes adjusted and learned to blink, the new lifeform jerkily tilted its head one way, then the other, trying to process stimuli.

“Hello,” Juliana ventured. “Do you know who we are?”

The new man fixed his piercing, yellow eyes on the human couple before him, then gazed off into space. Dr. Soong held his breath, wondering if this new one would fail like the earlier prototypes. Then the new android’s head swiveled clumsily to face them again.

“Juliana and Noonian Soong. Mother. Father. I am… Day-tah.”

Dr. Soong clapped his hands in victory. “Very good!”

“Yes!” Juliana laughed. “That’s right.”

As new sensations overwhelmed him – his father’s hands clapping together, his mother’s proud laughter – Data’s head jerked just slightly. He started to wave back and forth, and Dr. Soong put an arm around his new child to stabilize him.

“That’s alright, son. Take a minute. Let everything come to you slowly.” He unconsciously pat the android’s back – a human reaction, a fatherly impulse. “That’s it. Very good.”

Data seemed steady now as he curiously surveyed the room: scientific instruments, computer monitors, plastic dinosaurs, potted plants, light fixtures, doors. His head movements were still jerky and awkward, but he didn’t seem in any danger of falling over.

“Data,” Juliana’s voice startled him again and drew his attention back to the front of the room. She smiled warmly, “Data, there’s someone else you should meet.”

From the open door behind her, a tall figure in black stepped cautiously into the light. He stood stiffly next to Juliana. The man’s expression was good-humored, but unimpressed. “He looks…confused.”

“Data, do you know who this is? Take your time, sweety.” She led the other man gently by the elbow and put his hands out for Data to investigate.

There were several long seconds of silence. Data tilted his head compulsively a few times, searching, cross-referencing, processing. “Lore. Brother.” He answered hesitantly. “Hell-OH, I am a Day-tah.” He shook Lore’s hand brutishly from side to side.

Lore snickered. “Oh, yeah. I like him.” He loomed over his brother and slid his own arm back to his side, stepping back near Juliana. “Uh. Is anyone gonna give the poor kid some clothes?”

“Clothes.” Data repeated. “Clothing. Atire. Garments. Outfit.”

“Come on, little brother. Let’s find you some pants.” Lore shook his head, amused, and took Data’s hand again. He led him down from the table. Looking pleased with himself and focused entirely on Lore’s movements, Data hopped down, tried putting one foot on top of the other… And promptly fell over on his side. He sprawled, naked and perplexed, on the floor of the lab. He stared at his legs, seeming unsure how to correct the issue.

Lore laughed harder and Data helplessly mirrored his brother’s earlier smirk. “Oh dear,” Juliana sighed.

Dr. Soong growled in exasperation. “No, no, no! He’s not ready yet. Lore, help me with him.” Together they lifted Data to his feet and waited for him to stand steady before removing their arms from underneath his. His knees buckled for a moment, but Lore caught his brother before he could slip again. “Alright. Now, slowly. Slowly. One step at a time,” their father commanded.

Juliana went to a cupboard and pulled out a robe. “Here, Data. Can you walk toward me?” She beamed with pride as Lore and Noonian, on either side of Data, released his arms but shadowed his every hesitant step. With each footfall, one, two, three, four, five, Data seemed more confident, until he managed the last leg of the path standing tall and unguided by his family.

“Wonderful, Data!” Juliana wrapped the robe around her son and hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. Data looked stunned and turned obediently when Juliana guided him back around to face his father and brother.

Lore looked amused but still unimpressed. “You sure he’s my twin and not another B-4 unit, often wrong?”

Noonian glared at his son and swatted his arm. “Data is performing well beyond established parameters. It took you hours just to adjust the noise level of your voice, problem child. Not to mention your struggles with ocular focus. Juliana had to train you to speak softly and learn to use your eyes. For days, I thought we’d have a blind and screaming android forever. It was like you were possessed.”

“I don’t know,” Lore shrugged as they watched Juliana take Data on a tour of the room. “I guess it’s hard to improve on perfection.” He winked at his father. “I’m speaking of me, of course. Not you.”

“Yeah, I got it. Don’t you have something constructive to be doing, rather than insulting me and your brother?”

“Oh, no. I’ve waited a week for this. Fraternal rivalry and developing my Oedipus complex is about as constructive as I plan to be today.”

Dr. Soong smiled despite his disapproval of Lore’s developing sense of humor. Eventually, Juliana guided Data to a chair. Lore opened his mouth, no doubt to barrage them all with more disparaging remarks, but instead, a disembodied voice announced: “End of simulation.”

“Data,” Neva finally released a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. She didn’t know what to say. “Data, was that real? I mean, that was really a recording?”

“Yes,” Data replied. “It appears my father kept extensive holo-records. We have just watched the first memory he left for me inside the emotion chip.”

A stranger may have looked at Commander Data and assumed the holodeck memory program had no impact on him, but his friends would know better. Data was blinking more rapidly than normal, staring straight ahead, brow slightly furrowed, as if not quite ready to face his companion. He was also absent-mindedly toying with the device in his hand. Neva had long ago remarked that Data fidgeted when nervous; he had replied that, although he did occasionally make repeated movements when faced with specific stimuli, he was incapable of nervousness as an android. They had debated the issue for a long time, until one day Data relented only that perhaps his programming had developed such a habit to mimic human nerves. Since experimenting with the emotion chip, however, he had haltingly admitted that some level of emotion had already developed on its own, such as the nervous tics.

“Data, this is wonderful.” Neva touched his elbow lightly, to remind him he didn’t have to face any of it alone. “What are you thinking? Feeling?”

He looked at her, reached thankfully for her hand. Their fingers intertwined. He looked older somehow, a little sad. It was a look he wore more and more frequently, Neva had noticed, since using the emotion chip. She could guess it had something to do with reviewing memories of experiences he had lived before developing emotions, now reflecting on them emotionally, and processing the regret. This new development, finally accessing memories of his life that were previously blocked from him, could only compound that pain and confusion.

“I am uncertain.” He admitted finally. “I cannot help but wish Lore had remained here, so I could discuss these memories with him.”

“I think that’s only natural.”

“I also feel…jealous. I am jealous that Lore retained these memories while I…” He trailed off with a frustrated sigh.

“Your father erased them. Are you angry?” She knew Data was still uncomfortable processing emotions he interpreted as negative, or wrong; they conflicted with his self-image and confused his ethical programming.

“Perhaps. But I think I feel more…regret. Sadness. I wish I had more time to ask Dr. Soong questions. I wish Lore were…better than he is. But, perhaps these memories will answer some of my questions.”

Neva smiled. Data was a wonder, even and especially when he thought he was failing. “Do you want me to stay? I can go, if you prefer privacy.”

“I am not sure what these memories will contain, so I do not feel comfortable asking you to stay. But…I do not wish for privacy. I think I would like support.” He tilted his head, almost phrasing it as a question.

“I’m happy to stay. I only asked because… Well, recovering my memories was traumatic. When they came back, I was kind of a mess. I’m glad nobody saw me like that. But you’re…you, so I don’t think you have to worry.” She squeezed his hand and nodded at the device. “Ready when you are.”

He squeezed her hand back and activated the next memory program. The holodeck shifted and changed.

#data (start trek)#data soong #lore soong #st:tng #st: tng #data fic #fanfic #my writing #if someone could please surgically remove this damn android from my brain i'd appreciate it #when i have to explain to my students on monday why their projects still aren't graded i can't tell them i've been writing star trek fanfic #anyway i love this family and their completely twisted dynamics #mine

14 notes · View notes

needtherapy · 4 years

Text

A Time And Place For Us (pt 2)

(Since Tumblr is being a jerk about outside links, I’m going to try it this way. It’s also on AO3 if you want to read it there.)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 (Explicit) / Part 4

It’s Xichen’s birthday, and what a coincidence, the Qinghe Nie sect leader is taking a tour that just happens to take him to Cloud Recesses.

Unsurprisingly, it’s an exciting few days.

In this story you will find: Mingjue breaking things; Sword fighting; Xichen’s issues; Mingjue’s birth name; Embarrassed younger brothers; Monsters; Birthday presents; Kissing...and more

A follow-up to Mingjue Falls and Xichen Remembers.

Chapter 5: Xichen

Xichen thought he had given up being angry at his father years ago, but by the time lunch was over, he was seething.

First, Qingheng-Jun had made them wait, even shufu, standing outside like unwanted penitents. When he had finally admitted his family to Hanshi, he had silently surveyed Mingjue like a man considering purchasing a horse and finding it wanting. Xichen had half expected him to pry open Mingjue’s mouth to count his teeth.

And then he had insulted the entire Qinghe Nie sect.

“Do the Qinghe Nie still refuse to cultivate music? I always have thought that was a wasted opportunity,” Qingheng-Jun had said with a long-suffering sigh. “But perhaps it is too much to expect the noble arts as well,” he finished, with a glance at Baxia’s hilt.

Xichen would have sworn that Baxia glowed red at this comment, but Mingjue did not seem offended, affably agreeing that indeed, his sect did not have a tradition of music like Gusu Lan.

Of course, there were the usual comments. Qingheng-Jun was concerned that the younger disciples were growing unruly without a firm enough hand to guide them. He admonished Xichen for being too gentle with them and exhorted him to take care disciplining the next generation of students before they ran wild all over Gusu. A part of Xichen wanted to tell him to do it himself. He didn’t bother. There was no point.

But the worst part, in Xichen’s mind, was that his father had entirely ignored Wangji beyond a nod of acknowledgement. Granted, Wangji may not have had much to say, but it would not have hurt to ask. What are you reading, what have you learned to play, where have you traveled this month. Such simple questions, never voiced.

Even Mingjue had been more subdued than usual, eyes flicking between Xichen’s blank face and Wangji’s stony one every time he had carefully answered one of Qingheng-Jun’s questions.

The ordeal finally ended. The moment they were out of Hanshi, Xichen put his hand on Wangji’s shoulder until his brother looked him in the eyes. He wanted to say, I’m sorry, there’s no excuse, he’s always been this way, you are perfect as you are, it doesn’t matter what he thinks, but Xichen knew it would embarrass Wangji. So he just smiled, and Wangji’s tight, angry jaw softened slightly before he walked away. And that was the best they could do.

Mingjue was still beside him. It was an overwhelming relief. When Xichen looked at him, he was looking at Xichen, worry clouding his handsome features.

Xichen smiled wanly.

“Your parents loved you.”

He tried not to let the words sound like an accusation. But in the few times they had met, Xichen had been mesmerized by the obviously glowing pride of the former Nie zongzhu and the casual affection both of his sons seemed to take for granted.

“I am not sure either of mine did. They certainly did not love each other. But at least I am the oldest, so my father acknowledges my presence, my...accomplishments.” Xichen laughed bitterly. “I do not know how to change his disregard of Wangji.”

The jagged edges of his anger were fading into sadness, and he nearly stepped forward, wanting to be held and comforted. He knew Mingjue would, heedless of consequence, so Xichen stopped himself to protect them both. Shaking off the last echoes of the hurt his father always seemed to know how to find, Xichen managed a smile.

“Come with me, Chifeng-Zun. We can visit the library.”

He didn’t miss the furrow in Mingjue’s brow, but thankfully, he did not press Xichen further.

Xichen loved the Cloud Recesses library, with its smell of paper, ink, and leather. He loved the forbidden library even more, but he was not going to go back to his father to ask permission to show it to an outsider. He contented himself with giving Mingjue a tour of their visible collection. Touching the elegant scrolls and books of poetry did much to soothe his spirit.

Xichen pulled a dusty scroll tube from the shelf and took it to a table.

“I do not think you will be interested in our rare musical texts, Chifeng-Zun, but this is an illustrated history of the dao,” Xichen said as he carefully unrolled the paper, anchoring it on either end.

He was pleased to see Mingjue’s face light up, so he went to find other works on sword cultivation and fighting techniques.

They spent several hours looking at books. Xichen laughed when Mingjue used a long calligraphy brush to practice some of the unfamiliar dao movements, rather than risk Baxia in the library.

And if Mingjue occasionally brushed Xichen’s hand or tucked a stray piece of hair behind Xichen’s ear, there was no one around to notice.

Even so, Xichen was surprised when Mingjue cupped his cheek with a furtive look.

“There are gifts from Qinghe Nie to present at dinner this evening. I regret that I need to leave you to gather them.”

Xichen was growing tired of maintaining decorum. He leaned into Mingjue’s hand and turned his face to kiss the palm.

The sound that came from Mingjue was somewhere between a whimper and a moan, and emboldened, Xichen gently nibbled the tip of Mingjue’s thumb.

“Gods, Xichen.” Mingjue’s voice was hoarse, and he leaned forward. “If you wanted me to ravish you on the library floor, you only had to ask.”

At that moment, Xichen could not remember any of the 3012 rules that governed the Gusu Lan sect disciples, much less a single one of the 346 rules that dealt with virtue. He just wanted to be kissed.

Xichen didn’t hear the library door open, but he heard the sound of a throat being cleared meaningfully. Both Xichen and Mingjue whirled around to look into the wide, amused eyes of one of the Gusu Lan doctors. Unfortunately, as Mingjue turned, Baxia somehow caught the edge of a low bookcase behind him and flipped it on its side, books and scrolls crashing to the ground. They all froze for a moment, and Xichen thought he heard Mingjue mutter his sword’s name as though he was scolding a naughty child.

The woman rushed forward to help them right the table and books.

“My apologies for disturbing you, Zewu-Jun,” she said as they finished, and Xichen wanted to flee her twinkling eyes.

“Thank you shijie,” he said instead. “We were just leaving.”

“At least I didn't break the bookcase,” Mingjue remarked ruefully when they got outside. “I am afraid the Lan zongzhu is going to eventually bar me from Cloud Recesses.”

“If he does,” Xichen said with a lopsided grin, “The next one will let you back in.”

Chapter 6: Mingjue

Mingjue had set his fifteen-year-old brother on the task of helping him pick host and birthday gifts for this visit. Huaisang did many exasperating things, but he was unfailingly good at gifts.

For the host gift, Huaisang found a craftsman who created wooden plants carved with talismans. When activated with the smallest touch of power, the plants would flower. Huaisang said that everyone knew Lan-xiansheng cultivated orchids, so he had the craftsman create a cluster of stems and wide flat leaves carved with talismans that would make pale blue orchids appear. Mingjue was doubtful, but Huaisang said the fact that it was not a natural color was what made it special.

Huaisang had been right. It was not obvious approval, but when Mingjue demonstrated the slow bloom of petals, the side of Lan-xiansheng’s mouth twitched. He examined the sculpture for several moments while stroking his beard before eventually sending it away with a servant.

The birthday gift had taken more effort. Huaisang had suggested daggers, instruments, books, art, and nothing had seemed right. Finally, Huaisang had stormed into Mingjue’s office and set a wood and silver frog on his desk.

Mingjue had picked it up curiously. “What is it?”

In answer, Huaisang had hummed the first few notes of a popular tavern song. To Mingjue’s amusement, the frog hummed them back. Or at least, the tune from the frog’s open mouth had been very similar to the sounds Huaisang had made.

“It’s an Echo talisman,” Huaisang had explained. “It’s carved into the metal here, see?”

He’d pointed into the frog’s silver mouth.

“Each one can only hold a few notes, but I think three would make an interesting and somewhat useful gift for a musician. And you leave in two days, da-ge.”

It was a good point, and Mingjue had told Huaisang to make sure it was beautiful and elegant. Huaisang had just rolled his eyes.

The finished gift Mingjue presented to Xichen was a sculpted wood and metal lotus, with the three frogs seated on the single leaf. Mingjue whistled at the frogs to show off their trick. The shining light in Xichen’s eyes was worth the embarrassment of butchering music in public.

Xichen played the start of a song on his xiao, and the frogs sang back to him, far more beautifully than either Mingjue or Huaisang had managed. He immediately understood how many notes each frog could manage and adjusted the music so the frogs were a complementary chorus to the xiao’s tune.

Mingjue reminded himself to generously reward Huaisang for his help. Maybe he’d like another fan. Or, considering Xichen’s smile, two fans.

Gusu Lan had made the night hunt an open competition. They would start in the town of Caiyi and there would be no formal boundaries. Unlike the larger-sect night hunts, there would only be a few teams from Gusu Lan and Qinghe Nie. Teams from other sects, clans, and rogue cultivators would be able to compete for the prize. Mingjue suspected this generosity had been Xichen’s idea.

Mingjue had chosen to partner with Nie Huiji, a distant cousin and the captain of the group he had brought. Huiji was a short man, but utterly fearless and a skilled archer. Mingjue would, of course, have preferred to be paired with Xichen, but the Twin Jades of Gusu would be a team. After the bout with Lan-er-gongzi the day before, Mingjue had serious doubts about his chance of winning, but if he had to lose to anyone, he wouldn’t mind if it was the Twin Jades.

Still. He had no intention of losing.

It started well. Huiji was an excellent tracker. The two of them quickly killed a possessed boar that was an odd shade of green. He grinned at his cousin over the top of the beast’s body, and Huiji rolled his eyes in amusement.

They found a few restless spirits wandering freely and one resentful ghost buried deep in a man’s body. Mingjue preferred the straightforward business of eliminating evil things with his dao, but he wasn’t incapable of shifting the power of his golden core to quell restless souls. The possessed man proved harder to suppress, but they managed to force the spirit out and destroy it.

And then it started to rain. It was never as much fun to night hunt in the rain.

They slogged through eradicating a flock of zhu owls, disturbing with their human-like hands and features. Mingjue especially hated monsters with human faces and was sorry so many of them had gotten away.

Only a few miles from Caiyi, Huiji caught wind of a nest of jueyuan. Literally. Even Mingjue could smell the stink of them long before they found their nest hidden in a cave on the side of a hill. They surprised the group, and Mingjue killed most of them before they could even react, but some of the abhorrent ape creatures tried to flee through the thick trees.

Mingjue had no doubt Huiji would shoot down any escapers, so he checked their lair to make sure there were no human victims. He found evidence of women they had taken in the past. Ribbons. Bits of pastel fabric. A hair comb. He closed his eyes against the horror he knew the women must have suffered, channeling his rage away, through his core and into Baxia, who welcomed it with open arms.

They wanted to kill something.

When he came out of the cave, Huiji gave him a sidelong look, eyebrows raised, but Mingjue ignored the implied question.

“Keep hunting,” he growled, and Huiji nodded.

They found a fuchong by the water. Mingjue cleaved the head of the giant snake from its body in a single strike before it could shoot any of its poisonous needles at them. It was not enough.

There were ghosts to dissipate at the foot of a huge tree. Mingjue and Huiji were able to release their spirits, and that, at least, was satisfying in a different way. But it did not calm the blood pounding in his ears.

Time passed with no targets in sight, and Mingjue’s impatience was growing wings. Huiji suddenly stopped him with a raised hand. He pointed north, further up the mountain, and made the signs for “large” and “two.” The wind and rain were howling in gusts around him, but Mingjue sharpened his senses and smiled grimly when he heard the distant sound of two sets of feet breaking through the underbrush. They might get a decent fight after all.

Mingjue marked Huiji with a location talisman, just to be safe, and they split up, Mingjue circling east and Huiji cutting west. Keeping the sound to his left, Mingjue climbed to the top of an outcropping of rocks near where he expected the monsters to pass. He was not disappointed.

The demons were sickly shades of yellow and grey that offended his eyes. They moved with a lurching gait that was swifter than their tall, bulky bodies should have been. Mingjue made note of their visible strengths: plated skin, sharp teeth in huge mouths, spiked tails, clawed back feet, and hands that curved like a pair of sickles. He did not like the look of the fat yellow spines that covered the creatures’ arms and wondered if they were venomous.

Below him, the demons turned to sniff the air and look around. Mingjue froze. He was downwind of them, but he had no idea what other senses they might have. The larger of the two demons opened its mouth and roared, and Mingjue realized that the sound he had thought was the howling wind was actually the call of this demon. The smaller, darker demon responded in a different tone that made the hair on the back of Mingjue’s neck stand up.

It was a risk, but he reached out with his golden core to find Huiji on the other side of the location talisman, the beat of his heart only a few meters away. Baxia trembled on his back as soon as he touched her hilt. He silently drew the dao and waited for the demons to move past him. They would know he was there as soon as he was upwind of them, and he wanted to be ready.

He dropped from the rock, swinging his saber at the dark grey demon’s spine, but the beast turned just in time and Baxia cut into the evil thing’s shoulder, severing its arm. It screamed in fury and turned on Mingjue, tail lashing through the air. An arrow erupted from its eye followed by a second in its neck, but the demon was not deterred. It slashed at Mingjue with its sharp hands, and Mingjue felt the air part next to his cheek as the creature shot one of its spines at him. He smelled a hint of brimstone and grimaced. Definitely venom.

He bellowed at Huiji, “Don’t let them shoot you,” before Baxia was moving again, this time defending Mingjue against the other, larger demon, who had leaped in front of him. Mingjue was aware that Huiji had moved behind him, sword in hand, because the dark grey demon was no longer attacking him.

Not only were the demons’ hands shaped like blades, they were as hard as his dao, and the demon he was fighting was strong enough to block every strike. But the beast was slower than he was, and Mingjue had no doubt he could evade its attacks until it faltered. Baxia sang as they fought together, and her joy in the fight filled him with elation.

Mingjue had not killed every demon and monster he had ever gone to fight, but he had so rarely made mistakes in battle that he didn’t react quickly enough when his foot slipped on a wet rock and he fell. He should have kept his eyes on the danger. He should have lifted Baxia to protect his chest. He should have rolled to the side. Instead, he was stunned for the infinitely long fraction of a second the demon took to scream in triumph and bring its bladed hand down toward Mingjue’s chest. He didn’t even have time to brace for the pain.

A flash of blue light struck the demon squarely in the chest, knocking it backward with a heavy grunt, and only then did Mingjue react, rolling to the side and lifting Baxia. Before he could leap forward with a killing blow, Xichen was there, Shuoyue extending to pierce the beast through its mouth and up into its head. It sagged and fell, dead before it hit the ground.

Their eyes met, and Mingjue grinned at the savage look on Xichen’s face. He turned to help Huiji when he heard a sound that turned his blood to ice.

A soft grunt and the impact of a body against a tree.

He could not turn fast enough.

He could not run fast enough.

He whirled, falling on his hands as he scrambled up the hill to where Xichen was laying by the trunk of the pine tree he had hit when the demon Huiji was fighting had shot one of its strange spines at him. Xichen’s eyes were closed and Mingjue could see the long shaft protruding from Xichen’s shoulder.

“Xichen,” he screamed, skidding to his knees next to his love. “Xichen, gods, no, no, no.”

Mingjue touched Xichen’s face fearfully, afraid to hurt him, more afraid he was beyond pain. He choked back a sob when Xichen opened his eyes.

“That hurt,” Xichen murmured, lips curving into a wry smile, and Mingjue sat heavily on the ground, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

Xichen turned his head to peer at the spine sticking out of the tree trunk, but the smile faded when he looked more closely at the tears streaming down Mingjue’s face.

“Shi-ge, I’m fine. It didn’t hit me. It’s just stuck in my robes.”

Using the edge of his sleeve, Xichen pulled the spine out of the tree and tossed it to the side. “See?”

He showed Mingjue the hole in his robe.

It took Mingjue’s heart a moment to resume beating, and when it did, he grabbed Xichen’s face and kissed him hard. Xichen hesitated for a moment before he reached his arms around Mingjue and leaned into the kiss, not stopping Mingjue’s hands from moving across his shoulders and arms, still checking to ensure he truly was safe.

“Zongzhu,” a soft voice interrupted. “The demons are both dead.” “I don’t care,” Mingjue retorted, and the feel of Xichen’s laugh made his hands shake.

“Zongzhu.” Huiji’s tone was more insistent. “Lan-er-gongzi was instrumental in assisting me with the kill.”

Oh.

Mingjue reluctantly released Xichen and stood, extending a hand to help Xichen up. He brushed wet pine needles and dirt off his clothes to avoid turning around as long as possible. When he did, Lan-er-gongzi was staring at him, head tipped slightly to the side with what Mingjue hoped was more of a thoughtful expression than a censorious one.

“Time is nearly up, xiongzhang,” he said to Xichen, his deep voice more neutral than Mingjue had expected. “We should return to Caiyi.”

With that, Lan-er-gongzi turned and walked away, not looking back to see if Xichen followed him. Huiji winked at Mingjue and trailed off after the boy.

“I think they may have noticed,” Xichen whispered, the laughter still in his voice.

Mingjue still felt like there were needles under his skin. He ran his hands over his wet hair dejectedly.

“Xichen, I’m sorry. I wanted him to like me, but I know how your family feels about…” he waved vaguely, not sure of the right word. “Virtue.”

Xichen patted his arm consolingly. “Shi-ge, he is my brother. Believe me, if he disliked you, he would not have left.”

That made sense, actually, and it cheered Mingjue.

“Besides,” Xichen said, pulling Mingjue’s arms around him and snuggling closer when Mingjue tightened the embrace. “I like you. And we have at least five minutes before we have to catch up.”

Chapter 7: Xichen

Xichen made the most of those few minutes in the rain, tipping his head back to be kissed and reveling in the feeling of being loved.

He hadn’t been afraid he was going to die, but Mingjue’s reaction had shaken him nonetheless. Besides his brother, he realized, who would be heartbroken if the demon’s shot had been a little more accurate? Not his father. His uncle was fond of him, but he suspected shufu would immediately turn his attention to shaping Wangji into the next sect leader. The future of Gusu Lan was what mattered most to him, and Xichen really couldn’t fault him for that.

But he never had to question what Mingjue felt, good or bad, and the certainty of being cared for was more precious than anything he could have asked for.

The boom of fireworks announcing the end of the night hunt was unwelcome, but Xichen drew away from Mingjue anyway. They would be missed soon and the last thing he wanted was a search party.

He took Mingjue’s hand and pulled, leading him down the path.

“When I let go, it will only be because I do not want anyone to think I had to help you win,” he teased as they walked together, and Mingjue burst into laughter.

“I’m sure I didn’t win. Your team stole my last two kills, Zewu-Jun. What kind of example are the Twin Jades of Gusu setting for the country?”

As it turned out when they got back to Caiyi, neither of them was correct. They had tied. Xichen shot Mingjue an apologetic look, but Mingjue just shook his head.

“You saved me from the consequences of a mistake, Zewu-Jun. I happily cede the kill. And,” he added with a flash of dimples. “Since it is your birthday, you may have the reward, as well.”

A chorus of best wishes and birthday salutations went up from around the crowd, and Xichen gave Mingjue a dirty look. He hated being the center of attention like this, and he knew he was blushing. To his horror, many of the cultivators pulled bottles of alcohol from their sleeves and packs and raised them to toast him. He sneaked a glance at his family. Shufu looked mildly annoyed, but did not stop them, and Wangji had an unusually unreadable expression on his face. Mingjue was just trying not to laugh.

“Thank you,” Xichen finally thought to say, when it became clear they would not stop until he said something. “It would be my pleasure to distribute the reward among all the teams. For my birthday,” he added.

When they cheered, he flushed, wanting desperately to be allowed to get back to Cloud Recesses.

There was only one thing he wanted to do on his birthday.

Go to Chapter 8 (explicit)

Note: The last monsters are dao lao gui (刀劳鬼)

#the untamed #nielan #the untamed fic #nie mingjue #lan xichen #lan wangji #cql #mdzs #kristina writes tiny stories #this one is not so tiny #xichen's birthday is october 8 apparently #chen qing ling #mo dao zu shi

9 notes · View notes

sixth-light · 6 years

Text

uncommonsockeater

replied to your post

“Coming to the realization that the Nightingale I’m writing for the...”

Prompts? .... Abigail, ghost tour heckler? All quail before her withering contempt?

roisindubh211 replied to your post “Coming to the realization that the Nightingale I’m writing for the...”

Abigail asks Peter questions because he's her big cousin who's into weird stuff and probably won't rat her out to her folks

Accountability check: I wrote 1200 words of the arranged marriage AU today while waiting for someone to get back to me so I could submit a revised paper I’M NOT GETTING DISTRACTED FROM MY FANFIC GOALS

(I am but. manageably.)

“...Sir Henry died over a hundred and twenty years ago,” said the tour guide, “but –“

“Hang on,” Abigail said, pitching her voice to the tone that had brought looks ranging from resignation to terror to the eyes of her schoolteachers. “This place wasn’t even built until after the First World War. What’s this Victorian bloke doing haunting it?”

The guide, who was a white guy called Simon probably not too much older than Abigail was herself, had smiled politely when she’d opened her mouth. By the time she was done, the smile had gone a bit thin.

“I think you must have got it mixed up,” he said, with a chuckle. “Look around at this Gothic Revival -”

“They didn’t just all down tools one day in nineteen-oh-one and start on Art Deco buildings the next,” Abigail said. “My cousin’s an architect, he goes on about this stuff.”

That wasn’t exactly true but Peter had done his degree, right, it was just that jobs were hard to get. His tours were way better than this one, too.

Simon’s eyes narrowed, although he managed to keep up the smile. Some of the other people on the tour – all tourists as far as Abigail could tell, mostly white and a few East Asians – were starting to look uncomfortable.

“Look, do you want to hear about the ghost of Sir Henry or not?”

“I just think if you’re going to tell ghost stories they should be real ones,” Abigail told him. She meant it, too.

“As I was saying,” he said, loudly and firmly and making eye contact with everybody to draw them back in, “this building was occupied by an advertising firm before the Second World War, and the copywriters used to report -”

Abigail stopped listening and edged towards the back of the group, trying to look appropriately abashed. Nobody looked at her; they wanted to pretend she hadn’t said anything. Which also meant, she was betting, that when someone eventually noticed she was gone, ten or fifteen minutes from now, Simon the tour guide wouldn’t be interested in finding out where she’d gone to. He’d think it was good riddance.

She sidled down a hallway, tried two doors before finding one that was unlocked, and settled in to wait in the office inside. Nobody even walked past the door – they hadn’t noticed she was gone. Perfect.

She gave it half an hour before she went back down to the main foyer. Peter had done a ghost tour for a couple of years – he’d given it up for strict history because he said it got too many people who took it seriously – and Abigail had asked him about this place. One of the things he’d told her, or more like let slip because she was pretty sure he didn’t know what she’d been planning, was that there were security cameras but they weren’t infra-red or anything. And ghosts didn’t show up on camera, not the real kind, so as long as she didn’t turn any lights on she’d be fine. Now it was just a case of waiting until her ghost – the real one, not whatever that story had been – showed up. She sat down in one of the less-comfortable-than-they-looked chairs to wait.

Twenty minutes later, she thought she heard something – a door creaking – but when she strained to listen, there was nothing else. Then she thought she heard people talking quietly, but that went away, too.

That was the worst bit about ghost-hunting; you got worked up looking for things and started to hear things that weren’t there. Real ghosts, Abigail had found, were not subtle at all, and didn’t require any special equipment or concentration or anything like that to see them. They were just...there.

She shifted a bit, because her left leg was starting to go numb, and then sprang to her feet when the door across the foyer from her opened – not the main one – and a torch flashed right into her eyes. Her left leg gave out, prickly with pins and needles, and she stumbled, putting up a hand against the light. “Aaaaaahhh!”

“Well, that’s not a ghost,” said a sardonic female voice. “I’m disappointed.” Abigail couldn’t make out anything else after half an hour in the dark; she could barely see figures behind the torch, let alone details.

“Excuse me,” said a second voice – man, very posh, in a way that made Abigail hopeful neither of them was the building’s night manager, but not very hopeful that they’d accept her back-up excuse of having got lost from the ghost tour. It sounded more like a voice that was going to tell her to wait for the police to be called. It was, all things considered, probably a good time to make a bolt for it.

“Hold on,” said a third voice, and the torch dropped; Abigail blinked, trying to focus at the same time as she tensed to turn and run. “Abigail, is that you?”

“Peter?” She turned back. “What – you don’t do the ghost tour anymore!”

“No, I don’t,” said her cousin Peter, sounding baffled. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s for a story,” Abigail said, shrugging like it was totally normal to be found in an office building in central London at quarter to midnight by her cousin who did walking tours and – who were those other two people, anyway? “What are you doing here, then?”

With the torch directed at the floor, now, she could see that the woman – whose expression was about as sardonic as her voice had been – was tall for a girl and wearing a black hijab and a very cool leather jacket. Posh Voice was a white man in a three-piece suit carrying an actual cane, which would have made him a good candidate for the ghost she was trying to interview if he hadn’t obviously been not a ghost, and instead a real person studying her with a frown of mild confusion.

“I take it you know this young lady?” he asked Peter.

“Yeah, this is my cousin Abigail, she’s studying journalism,” said Peter, like a complete traitor. “For a story, Abigail, really? What the hell?”

“I am!” Abigail insisted. She could live with Peter thinking she was breaking and entering; she wasn’t going to tell him she was here to interview a ghost. He’d never let her live it down. He probably still remembered when she’d tried to tell him about the ghost on the train tracks, five years ago. “Come on, why are you here? You don’t do the ghost tour anymore.”

“Favour for a friend,” Peter said. “The night manager still remembers me, and there’s two law firms in this building so they’re not thrilled about warrants...does he know you’re here?”

“I –“ Abigail was already figuring out how to answer that when she processed the rest of that sentence. “Wait, warrants?” She took a step to the side, so the chair wasn’t blocking her path to the side door. It was probably futile with Peter right here and telling all and sundry she was his cousin, but still. She turned her attention to Posh Voice and the hijabi woman. “Are you the filth?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Posh Voice. “May I ask what sort of story you’re following up?”

“It’s for a class,” Abigail said quickly. “I’m a student.” She had a flash of inspiration. “I was supposed to meet someone, but I guess they haven’t shown up.”

“Mind telling us who that someone is?” asked the woman in the hijab. She looked familiar but Abigail couldn’t remember where from.

“I wouldn’t want to reveal a source. And you haven’t told me who you are.”

The woman made a hmph noise and looked away, like she was trying not to laugh. Which was just insulting, really.

“Quite right,” said Posh Voice, and showed her his warrant card, which said he was Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale. Abigail made a show of inspecting it like she’d seen Peter do once when she’d come with him on a research trip and someone had made a fuss about them being there, but she didn’t know what she was looking for, really. It was just a way to gain a second, and see how Peter was taking this. He looked exasperated, and slightly suspicious, but not really worried. So maybe it would come out alright, if she could just persuade them to go away, somehow.

“Okay, Detective Inspector Nightingale,” she said. “And you are?” she asked the woman.

“Detective Sergeant Sahra Guleed,” said the woman. “Hey, that’s where I’ve seen you – you live on the same estate as Peter’s parents, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” said Abigail.

“Yeah, all her life,” said Peter. “You’ve probably seen her round. Sahra lives near me,” he explained to Abigail. “So she’s fine, and Inspector Nightingale’s a friend of mine, so – look, you shouldn’t be here, it’s nearly midnight. How about I walk you out?”

“I can find my own way out,” Abigail said, trying to look dejected. “It’s fine.”

“Ms - Abigail,” said Inspector Nightingale. “As Sergeant Guleed said – would you very much mind telling us who you were intending to meet? In general terms. I won’t ask for a name.”

“A guy,” Abigail said, figuring she could work with this. “Who had some things to say about…a cold case.”

“It wasn’t, by any chance,” he said, “John Geraldson?”

Abigail tried really hard not to react to that but she wasn’t sure she succeeded. “Uh…who’s that?”

Peter narrowed his eyes. He’d known her way too long. “Abigail. You know a few years ago when you told me about that thing, near school, on the train tracks…is it like that?”

“You didn’t believe me then,” Abigail said, and knew she sounded bitter and was annoyed at herself that she did. “Why are you asking about it now?”

“You changed your mind and said you were joking,” said Peter. “I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt.” He paused. “Also, fine, I didn’t believe you then, but I’ve had reason to change my mind since. So. Anything like that?”

“Are you telling me,” Abigail said, incredulous, “that these are the ghost police?”

“Wow,” said Sergeant Guleed. “That’s actually worse than anything I’ve heard down at Belgravia.”

“In that case,” said Inspector Nightingale, “perhaps -”

That was when the ghost threw the chair Abigail had been sitting in across the room, so things got a bit complicated after that.

Because it was after midnight they retired to an all-night caf and Peter bought Abigail a Coke, which was frankly the least he owed her.

“It’s that annoying time when I really want a drink but it’s too late to start,” he said, looking around. Inspector Nightingale made a noise of agreement.

“You’ll live,” said Sergeant Guleed, not very sympathetically. “Besides, you can’t tell me Abigail’s old enough to drink.”

“I am so,” said Abigail, which made her sound like she wasn’t but was one of those things you had to push back on. “What, you want to see my ID?”

“Sure,” said Sergeant Guleed.

“She is, not that it matters right now,” said Peter. “Was that an exorcism, then?”

“Not really,” said Inspector Nightingale. “More like a red card. Although hopefully it lasts for longer than eighty minutes.”

“Now I’m going to have to go to a library and do research,” Abigail said, still feeling aggrieved. “You could have let me talk to him.”

“He didn’t seem to be in the mood,” said Sergeant Guleed. “In my extensive experience of ghosts.”

“Three months is rather more extensive than anybody else on the force at present,” said her boss. “So I’d say you’re qualified to make that judgement.”

“Oh, fantastic,” she said, and eyed Peter dubiously. “Have I thanked you again lately for getting me into this?”

“Every time you see me,” said Peter. “Abigail, look - I’ll put you in touch with someone at the British Library, I bet she’d love to help. She’s friends with Mum. And she knows all about ghosts and – all about ghosts, so you can just tell her the whole story.” He paused to take a bite of his kebab. “Isn’t this all a bit excessive for a first-year assignment, though?”

“It’s not just for the assignment,” Abigail explained. “I mean, it is, but sometimes I can publish things online, and sometimes I even get money for them, and that’s gonna look way better for my portfolio than just assignments.” Especially when there were people who had parents who worked for newspapers and things and got their stuff in them. She had to try harder, that was all there was to it.

“What sort of website was going to publish a story with a ghost as an interviewee?” Inspector Nightingale asked, like he was just curious, but his eyes were sharp.

“I wasn’t going to put that in the story,” Abigail said. “Then all you get is, like, really terrible tabloids. I was going to figure out where I was supposed to have found things out after I found them out.”

“That doesn’t sound like great journalism,” said Peter.

“I wasn’t going to write anything that wasn’t true.”

“Ghosts,” said the Inspector, “are not always reliable witnesses, anymore than humans are – in fact they’re often worse.”

“Yes, but they’ll talk to you, and sometimes people won’t,” said Abigail. “Talk to me. And I know nobody else is out there interviewing ghosts, so it’s something I’ve got they don’t. Totally worth it.” She paused to sip her Coke. “But Peter just said ghosts and, so tell me, Inspector Nightingale. What’s ‘and’?”

“How about,” he said, “we won’t discuss and, and we also won’t discuss breaking and entering.”

Peter made a noise of protest at this – at least he was good for something.

“I didn’t break and enter anything,” Abigail said, not breaking eye contact with Inspector Nightingale. “I paid to go on a perfectly legit walking tour which had permission to be in the building, and I got lost on the way out.”

“Oh, Jesus,” said Peter. “Was that Simon’s tour? Were you heckling him?”

“Only at that last stop,” Abigail said. “So he wouldn’t be sorry I was gone.” She sniffed. “He was totally making everything up, anyway, it was embarrassing just listening to it.”

“It’s embarrassing knowing he’s in business, is what,” said Peter, “but I’m really disappointed in you, Abigail.” He paused for emphasis. “You should have heckled him at every stop.”

“Then he would have asked me to leave early,” Abigail said, but she grinned at Peter, and he grinned back, so at least they were all right and he wasn’t going to tell on her to her dad, which would be the worst, or to his mum, which would be the same thing except he could claim he hadn’t. Even Sergeant Guleed made an amused noise.

“I’ll accept there’s an argument about the legalities,” said Inspector Nightingale, and he was smiling a little bit too.

“So,” Abigail said. “And what?”

“She’s very persistent,” said Peter. “Fair warning.”

“A family trait, I see,” said Inspector Nightingale.

“She also did see you do sort of an exorcism,” said Sergeant Guleed. “I think it might be faster if we came clean.”

Inspector Nightingale sighed. “Ghosts, and – I’m a wizard.”

He said it very matter-of-factly, as if he were saying I’m a policeman or lovely weather today. Abigail took a moment to consider it.

“Why are you hanging out with a wizard policeman?” she asked Peter. She glanced at Sergeant Guleed. “Two wizard police officers.”

“They have a very interesting library,” said Peter. “And he’s right, we are a very persistent family.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Abigail said, and sat up a bit straighter, and decided that, even though it was nearly one in the morning and she had class tomorrow – today, this might be something worth being persistent about.

#uncommonsockeater #roisindubh211 #rivers of london #historical tour guide peter #abigail kamara #peter grant #tumblr fic #my fanfic #also nightingale and guleed but like #not enough that I feel I should tag them #writing this actually HELPED me with a plot hole for the arranged marriage au #so really it's winning all around

95 notes · View notes

thatangstyhoe-blog · 6 years

Text

My Mama Don’t Like You

Shawn takes his girlfriend home to meet his family and they don’t seem to like her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My heart pounded in my chest as Shawn parked the car. My hands were shaky while I leaned over to pick up the small tray of cookies I had baked. I set the tray on my lap and let out a deep breath of air.

“Are you nervous?” He asks, tilting his head to gaze at me while smiling slightly. I look over at him from the passenger’s seat with a light tint of pink on my cheeks.

“A little bit” I tell him honestly, and he shakes his head a little bit while grabbing my cold hands.

“Don’t be. They’ll love you almost as much as I do” He tells me and plants a warm peck on the side of my cheek. I smile and grasp the sides of his face in the palms of my hands, planting a wet kiss on the tip of his nose. He smiles and scrunches it up a bit before opening his mouth to speak again.

“Let’s go inside. My family is dying to meet you.” I smile and he opens the driver’s door, stepping out and running across the front of the car before opening my door as well. I smile and grab onto his hand, pulling myself out of the car while grabbing the tray of cookies in one hand. I pass over the tray to him and he takes in, grabbing onto my hand and guiding me towards the door of the large house.

We stand in front of the door after pressing the doorbell button and my stomach begins twisting in knots.

The door slowly opens and a smiley Aaliyah opens the doorway eagerly. She stands on her toes and hugs her older brother, smiling widely while screaming an “I missed you!”

She looks over to me and her smile slowly fades. My already low confidence depletes slightly but I regain my composure and stretch out my hand to her.

“Hi Aaliyah, I’m y/n” I tell her while putting on the best smile that I can. I stick out my hand for her to shake but she just stares at it momentarily before turning around and walking back into the house. I frown slightly and look over at Shawn, who seems shocked but sheepishly comes up with an excuse for her behavior.

“I’m sure she was just tired. Freshman year can be hard, you know?” I nod my head and gulp before stepping inside of the house behind him. He takes off his coat and I follow, hanging it up on the rack next to the door. The house is warm and comforting and the smile of food wafts from the kitchen.

“Shawn! You’re here!” A woman’s voice shouts from the kitchen. His mother-I assume- walks out of the kitchen wearing a red apron over her sweater dress. She sends me an expressionless glance before looking to her son and bombarding him with questions.

“Have you eaten yet? How was the tour? Is everything in your condo working? Why haven’t you been calling?” He interrupts her.

“Actually, mom, I really need to use the restroom so could we talk about this in a second?” He asks her and she nods and looks over to me. He walks away, and as i’m awkwardly left standing with his mother who seems dull towards me, I throw on a smile and think of the first thought in my head.

“Do you need any help with dinner?” I ask her and she hesitantly nods. I can’t tell whether or not she wants me to help her in actuality but at this point I decide that i’ll take what I can get. I follow her over to the kitchen and roll up my sleeves. She tells me to stir the thick liquid that bubbles in the small metal pot and I agree.

The next few minutes are quite awkwardly silent and i’m begging shawn in the back of my head to come back from his restroom break. I’d occasionally steal glances at her while repeating the same stirring motion, and she would awkwardly stare at me at times.

“So how did you meet my son?” she asks me bluntly and I glance at her while realizing she’s awaiting my answer.

“I-It was at a gathering” I tell her and pause to clear my throat.

“I was there with my friend, who was dating his friend Matt. She introduced me to him and we just clicked, I guess.”

I smile slightly and she nods her head before speaking again.

“So you met him at a party?” The way she asked the question seemed a bit condescending, as if she was purposely trying to shape me as a bad person. I pause for a moment.

“I guess it was something like that” I tell her and she tilts her head away from me and focuses on the dish she seems to be garnishing.

“You can stop stirring that,i’m sure it’s finished by now” I oblige and awkwardly walk over to the living room to see Shawn chatting with an older man with a broad figure. I assume it’s his father while I admire the striking resemblance between the two. His dad is also rather tall, around 6 feet but shorter than shawn. He laughs at something Shawn says and pats him on the side of his shoulder. Shawn looks around before his eyes find me.

“Y/n! Come over here!” He motions for me to walk over to where they’re conversing. I oblige and slowly trudge over to the small area where they’re standing in the living room. I stick my hand out for him to shake and he smiles a little while shaking my hand. I could tell things would be awkward between us as well, even though this was the best a family member had treated me so far.

His mom soon calls us over for dinner and I notice that his little sister has joined us downstairs. She stares at me with an insulting look, almost glaring. Her mom lightly nudges for her to stop and lays the additional dishes down on the spacious dining table.

--------------------------------------------------------

The dinner was full of awkward glances and small conversation. At times I would feel as if I were deliberately being left out of conversation. Shawn’s little sister would dodge all the questions and statements thrown at her and I felt knoxious, my desire to go home increasing by the minute.

“So y/n, do you have a job?” Aaliyah asks me. This was the first sentence she had uttered to me the whole night. Startled, I quickly think of something to reply with.

“Not at the moment, but i’m planning on applying for an internship if my class schedule doesn’t conflict.” I tell her with a smile on my face. I was glad that she was finally acknowledging my presence and taking an interest in my life.

“Is that why Shawn’s paying for your apartment? Because you can’t afford it?” She presses on. Karen doesn’t seem to scold her and instead silently stares at the cloth in front of her. I can feel tears burning my eyes and I suddenly know why they hate me.

“W-well, uhm” I begin. I can’t think of a way to kindly reply to her question. She was right, I was pathetic for relying on him financially. Why couldn’t I just get a job?

Shawn interrupts the tension between me and his family.

“Aaliyah what’s gotten into you?” He asks her while shooting her a glare. She ignores him and continues to eagerly stare at me to see if i’m close to responding.

“College is really expensive if you’re an international student. I couldn’t afford anything I guess” I say truthfully while staring at the leftover food on my plate.

“So you chose to ask Shawn to pay for everything instead of paying it off later by yourself with your own money?” She asks me. Shawn doesn’t interrupt this time and I can’t help but think that he somewhat agrees with what they’re saying judging by his silence.

“I don’t know” My voice sounds fragile and quiet and I can almost immediately tell that i’m not making a good case for myself. The whole family seems to agree with her judging by the fact that they haven’t stopped her from talking yet.

“I’m going to be honest here, y/n. I don’t really like you. I think you’re using him for his money, and I think he’s too blind to see it. I figured i’d stop it from going too far before it was too late.” She tells me. I nod and look over at Shawn, who is staring back and forth between his parents.

He wasn’t even trying to change their minds. I felt humiliated and betrayed, sitting at the dinner table with his sister accusing me of using him and his parents evidently agreeing with her.

I take the napkin off of my lap ad place it on the table, scooting the chair backwards and standing up.

“Thank you for the dinner, Karen.” I push the chair in after walking away from the table a bit and place a hand on Shawn’s shoulder while he stares up at me.

“I’ll move out of the apartment. Send me the bill for the amount of money it costed you to pay for it, i’ll pay it back.” I tell him. “I doubt any of you like me and that’s absolutely perfect. Because after today, I don’t think you’ll have to deal with my money-hungry self ever again.” I walk away from the table and grab my coat from the rack, walking out the door.

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes writing #writing #writer #fanfic #fanfiction #shawn mendes imagines

204 notes · View notes

rawcatlawnchair · 7 years

Text

Chapter 6 - Jirei

Jirei was loving her return to her homeland. Here, things felt familiar, from the architecture to the food, the smells and the sounds. The buildings were not blocky, dull and functional like those in the Chalice, but rather followed the surroundings of nature. The pillars were the browns and blacks of oak trees, the shingles green as the leaves of the evergreens. The roofs had familiar arches and curled at the edges. The smell of a pork bun wafted across the street.

Shuxin was one of the four large cities of the region, alongside Shuyong to the east, Shujiang to the south, and the capital Shurei in the center of them all. The western part of the Elven Alliance lacked a major city, as its mountainous tundra climate did not lend itself well to large cities.

With it's proximity to the Chalice, as well as other major kingdoms, Shuxin had naturally become a trading city. Villagers foraged from the surrounding forests for rare mushrooms and spices, while farmers came from further away with grains and crops to sell in the big city.

Hence, it was only natural that it's main street was lined with trading houses and food stalls, freshly opened to serve the morning crowd. Jirei, acting as their tour guide, led them around the area. While she had never lived in this city, she had passed through the area during her initial trip to the Chalice.

“Is that a kind of food?” Trixi asked, pointing at a pushcart selling some kind of fried delicacy.

“Dough fritters and soybean milk. Why?”

Trixi pulled a face and said, “Why can't elves just get milk from cows like everyone else?” Despite his obvious confusion at the cuisine, he continued jotting down his own notes. “Ever the scholar,” said Ruzuli, continuing, “What are you going to do with all those notes?”

“When we get back to the Chalice I'll write a book about my adventures, of course. I could call it Sagure: From A Gnome’s Perspective.”

“That would be a real short book.” The jokes flew back and forth, as the team browsed the stalls. Even if they were on a mission, they had spent over a week in the wilderness and deserved some rest and relaxation. Trixi and Ruzuli both decided to try the dough fritters, while Octavia and Jirei picked up some minced pork balls on a stick.

As they ate, Octavia looked like she had something on her mind. When Jirei prodded her, she spoke. “This city feels strangely foreign to me.”

“What do you mean?”

Octavia yanked a pork ball off the stick and chewed it, swallowing with a gulp. “I’ve been to many places, but coming to Shuxin feels like I've travelled back in time. It's rustic, traditional-”

“You can just call it old, you know.”

Octavia nodded. “Old is exactly what it is.”

“This city's stayed mostly the same for three hundred years now,” Jirei spread her arms, gesturing to the city around them. “A big part of Elven culture is tradition, and building on the work of your ancestors. Every building, every street has centuries of history beneath it, with centuries more to come. To tear down this ancient city and rebuild would be an insult to the heroes who have come before us.” Her eyes had glazed over, staring blankly into the distance as she delivered her speech. She came to her senses eventually, and sputtered out an apology to Octavia for going on and on.

“I’m sorry for that, Elven culture isn't really interesting to most.”

Octavia shook her head, saying, “Quite the contrary.” She smiled and began to gaze around at the street surrounding her. “I’ve spent so many years inside that tower, so many hours spent gazing at white walls and pale ceilings, aching for a look at the outside world.” It was a well known fact that Archmonk Celice rarely let his acolytes leave the tower, under the guise of ‘security issues’.

She looked over at the dragonling and the gnome, happily chomping away at their newfound favourite food, then turned back to Jirei and spoke once more. “Something’s been on my mind, elf. Why did you save my life? You had escaped the city with the compass, and trying to save me would only slow you down. I thought you righteous types hated criminals.” Jirei shrugged. “We’re criminals like you too now, and even if we weren’t, I’d still have saved you. I don’t just serve the Chalice, I serve the god Rath too. He gave life to all the beings that reside in this world, and to squander his gift for something as petty as ‘righteousness’ would be an insult to him.”

“A pious one, aren’t you?”

Jirei humbly nodded. “Rath has given me this green essence, and with it I shall serve the greater good.”

Octavia attempted to speak, but stumbled on her words and shook her head, walking away. It seems they had a long way to go before they understood each other.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After filling their bellies, the next stop for the group was the local city hall. The modest red and green brick building contained the city’s humble adventurer’s guild. Here, no grandiose quests for lost jewels or bounties on assassins would be found. Instead, pinned to the guild board were requests for rare apples that could only be found deep within the Walled Forest, or an escort to a nearby lake at night for a scholar to research glowfish, or even seeking labour to help harvest crops from a neighbouring farm. As the four of them crowded around the map that the guild had installed in its lobby, Jirei once more marvelled at the sheer size of the Elven Alliance. Unarguably the largest kingdom on the entire continent, it had taken them nearly two weeks of travelling to reach just the border from the Chalice, and yet it looked like it would take another six to reach their destination, Shuyong, all the way in the far east.

“Not six, eight.” Trixi said, not looking up from his notebook.

Jirei peered down and immediately regretted it, staring at an incomprehensible jumble of numbers and jargon. “The map says we’ve travelled a hundred odd miles from the Chalice to reach Shuxin, and says we’ve got to travel another three hundred miles to reach the edges of Shuyong,” Trixi said, pointing at the map with a slender finger, sliding it to show the voyage that awaited them. “But the road isn’t a straight line, it curves and bends as it goes. Add on the extra food and supplies we’ll have to carry, and slowly but surely that trip gets longer and longer. Not to mention-”

Ruzuli interrupted, holding out a hand to stop the gnome from entering a trance. “We get it, the trip’s going to be long and arduous. You can keep the numbers to yourself.”

Trixi muttered something about his work being unappreciated and continued to scribble things while staring at the map. The other three got straight to the planning. The road they were taking was not entirely depopulated, but villages were few and far between, meaning they would have to rely on supplies they brought to survive the journey between them. The nearest villages were a whole week’s walk between them, with nothing but miles and miles of forest and farmland in between.

The rest of the day would be spent preparing for their long journey ahead. Supplies were bought, essentials such as potatoes and carrots, nutritious foodstuffs that would keep them full and satisfied on their trip. They purchased a map of the region to navigate, as well as ropes and a torch. A visit to the local blacksmith allowed Ruzuli to sharpen her blade, as well as their hunting knives.

When nightfall came, the team settled into a small tavern for a meal of noodles and roasted pork, before getting two rooms for themselves to stay the night. For the first time in many nights, all four of them would able to sleep at once, safe and sound back in civilisation. Lugging their satchels to the second floor, Ruzuli and Octavia decided to take one room, while Jirei and Trixi took the other. Before retiring for the night, the compass was used once more to certify that their path was true to the quest.

The rooms were small but cozy, with two single beds and a window to peer out of. Outside, the city was winding down and preparing to fall silent. Neither Jirei nor Trixi had opted to change into other clothing, ready to mount an escape in the event of a crisis. Instead, they sat on their beds, talking as the sky got darker and darker.

A strange thought crossed Jirei’s mind, about her mysterious dreams she had. Perhaps Trixi knew something about it. She cleared her throat and spoke loudly in a clear voice. “In all your readings, have you ever encountered, say, someone with inexplicable essence abilities?”

Trixi furrowed his brow, trying to think of a suitable answer. “Only in the legends and myths, nothing concrete, I’d say. Why?”

She internally decided Trixi was reliable and trustworthy. He could keep a secret. “I have these dreams, from time to time,” She said, standing up and walking to the window. “I see things that I could never have known, people from distant lands and times forgotten. And everything I see has this green tint to it.”

Trixi still looked doubtful, a finger on his chin. He walked in a wide circle about the beds, shifting on his feet to always face Jirei. “Sounds rather preposterous to me. Can you control it?”

Jirei gulped. She didn’t know how to explain something so second nature, that came as easy as breathing and left even easier. She tried anyway. “Well, I can’t really control when I see the visions, or what I see with them. They just always seem to come to me as and when they want to. Almost as if-”

“They are pure coincidence.” Trixi finished for her. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Jirei glared a dagger into the gnome, who stood on his bed just to see eye to eye with her.

“No, but it remains the truth.” He folded his arms, failing to give off any air of authority with his lack of height. “Magic cannot explain what we see in our dreams, true, but that doesn’t mean any strange dream could be attributed to magic.” Jirei frowned, unsure of how to rebut his argument. “Perhaps these dreams of mine are a gift from Rath himself.” That was the first thing that came to mind, and perhaps the best. Her faith was the one thing that would remain unwavered in the face of his arguments.

“Well when we reach the Godsplain you can ask Rath himself about that,” stopping to correct himself. “If we reach the Godsplain, that is.”

“You still doubt it exists?”

Trixi sighed. “I hope it exists. But hopes and prayers are useless in the face of reality. I shall believe in it when I face it with my very own eyes.”

Outside, a stall owner extinguished his torch as he began to push his cart home, bell ringing as he went, tired after a long day of serving customers. “Perhaps we should retire for the night,” Jirei said.

“We do have a long day of traveling ahead of us. Goodnight, druid.”

“Goodnight, geomancer.”

They returned to their beds and settled in for a well deserved rest. Neither would realise when her eyes began to shine green from behind her eyelids.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The green dream did not hesitate in pulling Jirei directly into the action. It felt like mere seconds after she fell into her slumber that the familiar green rush sent her perspective into the dazzling Prismatic Hall. The masters had gathered once more, seated in their respective chairs. The dream seemed clearer than before, with a strange clarity that Jirei could not explain. Celice and Kris, as usual, seemed to be in a heated argument.

“You cannot accuse my acolytes of this crime! They left for the south on a boat, headed for Shuyong weeks ago!”

“On a boat no one saw them board, on the same night three people fitting the physical description of your acolytes used your invention to break out a criminal? Too many coincidences for me. I say we-”

“I say we stop this nonsense!” First Guardian Korixa roared, small wisps of fire floating from his mouth. The intimidating dragonling rose, pointing at both the squabbling masters. “My guards could not give me consistent descriptions of our criminals. Some said there were four, and others said there were forty. Some said they were shorter than the shortest gnomes, or taller than the tallest elves.” His uproar managed to silence the masters for a brief moment. He snorted more fire and continued.

“Either way, we still need an answer. What are we doing about the outlaws?”

Celice rose to match Korixa. Even at his old age, he presented the air of a refined man, albeit one with a menacing aura. “I’ve dispatched men to handle the criminals.”

“No more mistakes. Understood?”

“Yes, First Guardian.”

“Excellent. Now, on to our next task...”

Jirei’s dream began to twist and turn, and now showed her the gates of the Chalice. It looked eerily familiar, and it took her a brief moment to recall the day that she had leapt from those walls. In the green-tinged night, crescent moon hanging in the air, the gates creaked open, clearing the way for a convoy. Seven men rode out, two in white and bearing symbols on their cloaks, and five more in the brown of the city guard, horses kicking up dust as they rode towards the Walled Forest. She heard some shouting, and all of a sudden her dreams burst into mist as she came to her senses in the real world.

Trixi, the culprit behind the noise, finally quietened down. “Jirei, y-y-your-”

“My what?”

“Eyes!”

“Eyes?”

“Yes, your eyes! I awoke to find green light seeping through your eyelids. I was worried you were casting magic in your sleep.”

“I was merely dreaming, my friend.”

“Casting magic in your dreams?.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a bird chirping, indicating the coming of the morning. Through the walls, they heard a muffled yawn, likely courtesy of their dragonling companion.

Trixi’s voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe we should speak of this when we have eaten.” Jirei accepted his proposition and gathered the team, taking their bags downstairs for a traditional Elven breakfast of grilled fish and porridge. Over breakfast, they spoke of the days to come. Octavia seemed eager to see more of the kingdom, and Ruzuli was excited to finally begin their quest in earnest. Trixi spoke of some ruin they would be passing by in between mouthfuls of porridge.

Jirei ate in silence.

Next Chapter ｜Start from the beginning

#authors on tumblr #original story #my story #original content #the compass of faith #short chapter this time #chapter 6

4 notes · View notes