sakon76 | [fic] [Tales of Arcadia] Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet 79/?

Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 31st January 2022

"But I would pull five hundred miles," Douxie sang as he worked dragon gold into spider silk-fine wires, feeding it through yet another successively finer draw plate and pulling it forth with magic. Each time the wire got thinner and longer. "And I would pull five hundred more--"

He neatly dodged the balled-up rag thrown at him, and didn't miss a beat "--just to be the man who pulled a thousand miles of wire through at your door...."

Nuffink blinked and looked up seriously at Henry. "Da," he said, "he's silly."

Henry sighed. "He is that." He looked up at Douxie. "Here it comes," he warned.

"Don't be silly," the four-year-old sternly instructed.

Douxie stifled a laugh.

Archie sighed and walked up beside the child. "Telling him not to be silly is a lost cause," he said. "He excels at it."

Nuffink looked down at the talking cat. "You not be silly either."

Archie looked up at him, unimpressed. "I am a talking cat. How, precisely, am I to 'not be silly'?"

Nuffink considered this. "Stop talking," he finally pronounced.

Douxie burst out laughing.

Archie cast his familiar an unimpressed look, then told Nuffink, "Meow," before sauntering off, tail held high in the air.

A good teacher kept his personal life entirely separate from his job. Waltolomew Stricklander had always prided himself on being exemplary in this respect. Oh, there had been students he found more intriguing, from time to time, and ones he felt warranted a bit more of his attention for varying reasons.

But he'd certainly never dated a student's mother before.

It was... interesting, having that in common with Coach Lawrence. Other than that point of commonality, he'd never before felt much sympathy with the man, who definitely scored higher on the brawn than the brains. (Waltolomew could definitely take him in a fight, though; in his natural form it wouldn't even be a contest, whereas in his human form it would rely on his natural inclination toward treachery.)

Now, though, he found himself watching Lawrence's interactions with Steven Palchuk. Like Lawrence, the boy was definitely more brawn than brains. Lawrence, however, had always been notable for having a big heart - something the school's foremost bully lacked.

The past several weeks, however, seemed to be putting a bit of a change to that. Rather than styling himself the "big dog" he longed to be, Steve was willingly sitting with Eli Pepperjack, of all people, and Jim's expanding social group. He seemed to be listening, and thinking; a somewhat unaccustomed exercise for him.

"Thomas," Waltolomew said, catching his colleague in passing. "A moment, if you would?"

"Uh, sure, Strickler." The P.E. coach scratched at the back of his omnipresent baseball cap. "What can I do for you?"

Waltolomew nodded to the table of seven. "I had noticed young Mister Palchuk seems to be hanging out with a better crowd these days. I was wondering if you had any insights."

"Well, uh, his mom's had him in therapy," Lawrence said with a shrug. "Maybe it's starting to finally kick in. I mean, the kid's had it rough since his dad walked out, you know? And he's kind of been lashing out since, no matter what his mom or I do."

"Yes, I've noticed," Waltolomew murmured. "Still, I hadn't thought he and Lake would become friends. Let alone Elijah Pepperjack."

"Oh, yeah, that's kind of weird, isn't it." Lawrence crossed his arms and looked at the group. "You think they're up to something?"

"Doubtful," Waltolomew had to tell him. "I merely find the social dynamics interesting."

Lawrence looked somewhat blank.

Waltolomew smiled and changed the subject. "And how is Laraine?" he asked.

Lawrence brightened up. "She's great! We're going on three months living together, and I'm really thinking of popping the question, you know?"

"Oh, how splendid." Once upon a time, such knowledge would have been academic, part of a web of connections he could pull on, if necessary. Now, Waltolomew was attempting to see it more as a human would, and be glad for his... friend? Was that even the proper word for a coworker relationship?

It occurred to him that the word itself was academic. He had never had friends. Even Nomura was a subordinate, a fellow changeling... a resource, nothing more.

What would a friendship be like?

He realized he'd missed part of the conversation, tuning back in only to hear Lawrence asking if he knew of a nice restaurant he could take Laraine to.

"Why, yes," Waltolomew said, thinking of his eminently successful date with Barbara. "I think I do."

Training with Draal had become a daily thing. Which Toby was mostly okay with, even if it meant scheduling dates with Darci was a little bit trickier than the first time around, when Jim had been Draal's primary focus. Now, though, Jim was a fully trained Trollhunter while Toby was... getting there.

(Hey, he'd saved the world and died doing it. He was not going feel ashamed that his physical prowess was not yet up to his best bud's.)

It was a good thing they had the Arena now in addition to the Hero's Forge, so they could switch off days and locations. Jim was working with Aaarrrgghh to get over his hangups and master the sheer bulk and strength of his full troll form. While Toby was getting initiated into the pillbug secrets of the Spheroid Brotherhood.

...Which, honestly, was the nicest way he'd ever been called fat.

And at this point in his life, he thought, rocking back and forth, trying to figure out the secret to starting a roll from a stationary spherical position, he was mostly okay with it. He was short, and fat, and bar some kind of miraculous growth spurt in college, he was always going to be that way. Nana said their family were all plump, and it meant they survived famines. And, she added with a grimmer look on her face, wars.

(Still, Toby was still hoping for the growth spurt. Just a little more height would be nice.)

Huffing, he gave up and unrolled. "Okay, Draal, what's the secret?"

Draal grinned at him. "You're trying to roll along the length of your body, Toby," he said, drawing a line down the length of Toby's form from head to toe. "You're not using the advantage of a ball."

"Which is...?"

"You're circular in any direction."

Toby blinked a few times, mouth opening as he suddenly realized a whole new world of possibilities. "You mean I can roll in any direction?" he squeaked.

Draal grinned. "Not just headfirst," he confirmed, nodding. "From a stationary position, rolling sideways is often easier."

"Okay, yeah, gotta try that," Toby agreed, curling up again. "I'm still not sure how useful this will be against Gunmar, though. I mean, I haven't got your bulk and momentum to pull off things the way you do." A ball once again, holding spherical form, he concentrated on rocking side to side. Draal was right - it was significantly easier, with what Toby thought might be his core muscles coming into play.

"You certainly won't be able to knock him off his feet," Draal agreed. "However, for a dodge and evasion...."

"Ooh, yeah," Toby agreed. Then he finally got going and turned over, rolling. "All right, finally!" He wasn't going very fast, he knew, but anything was an improvement over lying still and being a sitting duck.

And he didn't get far before running into the wall of the Arena. He uncurled again and looked up at Draal, who had followed him. "A fine first effort," Draal told him.

"Steve, don't touch that!" Eli cried from across the room.

"Pfft, relax, Pepperjack! I'm not going to take any of it. I just want to look."

Draal and Toby exchanged a glance before looking over at where Steve, Eli, and Darci had been practicing basic strokes and blocks, working the weight and motion of swordwork into their bones by sheer repetition.

Darci was slumped over against the wall, breathing heavily and reaching for her water bottle. Eli was standing next to Steve, ineffectually attempting to keep him from touching things. And Steve....

...Steve was poking around on the shelf labeled "Cursed Items - D&A Only."

Toby's eyes flew wide. "Steve, don't touch those!"

"I'm not gonna keep them," Steve retorted, picking up first one thing then another. "I just wanna look, Dumbzalski."

Toby scrambled to his feet. "Do you seriously not get what cursed means, dude?"

Steve scoffed. "Yeah, it means you guys don't want people looking at your stuff. Ooh, hey, look at that," he said, pulling out a ring. "Nice."

"Steve!" Toby was barreling toward him, but was too late.

Steve slid the emerald-studded ring onto his pinky finger.

He twitched, his eyes suddenly emptying of the few thoughts that had been behind them in the first place. "Oh," he said, a small, dreamy smile forming on his face.

"Steve, take it off!" Toby demanded, trying to grab his hand. Steve raised his hand out of range.

"Oh, no way," Steve said, the same sappy smile on his face that Toby had only ever seen in relation to Aja. "This is my beloved's, and my beloved's is mine."

It was a tragically short period of time between Steve putting on the apparently-cursed ring, and the rest of them figuring out just what the ring was cursed with.

"Douxie," Steve cooed, dumbstruck with love. "What a nice name...."

"It's got a love curse on it?" Eli asked Toby.

Toby shrugged. "I mean, I guess so? I don't know what anything on that shelf is."

"There's a reason only the wizard and his familiar handle those items," Draal agreed from behind them. He looked about as disturbed as Toby felt.

"So, um. Should we, like, call Douxie and warn him?" Darci asked, eyeing Steve warily.

"Probably," Eli said. Toby nodded in agreement, but, watching horrified, could make no move toward his phone.

"He has such long legs. He could be a model, don't you think, Pepperjack? Pepperjack?" Steve looked around for his friend/victim.

"Uh, sure, Steve," Eli hedged.

"We could make such beautiful babies together. Flour babies...." Steve drifted dreamily off into lovesick la-la land.

"Douxie," said Draal into his phone, "we may have a bit of a problem."

"He did what?" Hisirdoux demanded. Henry and Nuffink and Archie all looked at him, surprised. Douxie smacked a hand to his face in disbelief. "No, no, I believe you. I've met him. I just didn't think he couldn't read."

"Sorry," Draal offered.

"It's hardly your fault," Douxie told him. He sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Keep Steve there. Tell him I'm coming, or something, that'll probably help."

"Douxie...?" asked Archie as Douxie hung up.

Douxie sighed again. "Remember that shelf down in the Arena? The one clearly labeled 'Cursed Items' and that only you and I should touch them?"

Archie nodded. "Oh no. Don't tell me...."

"Steve," Douxie said, "apparently thought that meant he could rummage around them and put on a cursed ring."

Henry winced. Nuffink considered this, then announced, "Stoopid."

"Right you are, young man," Douxie told him, pointing to him. "Don't touch cursed things."

"Wait, wasn't the ring....?" asked Archie.

"Mm-hmm." Douxie nodded. "A love curse."

"Well, better than the alternatives. But you were the last person to touch it, so...."

"So Steve currently fancies himself head-over-heels with me," Douxie confirmed. He buried his face in his hand again. "Gods, why are some of my friends so stupid?" He quickly lifted his head and pointed at Henry. "You. Don't say anything."

Henry's grin was wide. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. I know you've got a snarky remark just waiting somewhere."

"At least I wasn't the last person to touch it," Archie remarked.

"Oh gods, yes. That would have been a disaster." Douxie paused. "At least, I don't think Steve is a furry. Though he does end up with an extraterrestrial girlfriend, so what do I know about what he's into?"

"From what you've said, I would imagine blondes who can wipe the floor with him," offered Archie.

"Yes. That. Probably." Douxie ran both hands through his hair and huffed. "Right," he said, looking back at Henry. "I'm really sorry to run off like this, but I probably should go take care of this."

Henry snickered. "Go deal with your cursed teenager, I can keep making wire. With what we've done today," he said, casting a look at the reels and reels of fine wire they'd made, "and what I can make solo by then, I think we'll be able to start weaving the pieces on Sunday. I'll bang together some looms bigger than a potholder."

"Deal. And my apologies for leaving you in the lurch."

"Go." Henry waved him off. "I'd offer you a ride, but that would mean leaving all this to cool." His gesture encompassed the whole forge and, by implication, the warm, soft metals they'd been working with all day. Some of which had unpleasant tendencies to seize and shatter if cooled too rapidly.

"No, you keep on working," Douxie agreed. "I'll be back out Sunday morning."

"And thank Jim for sending that lunch, okay?"

Douxie flashed him a grin. "He is a superlative chef, isn't he?"

He shrugged his backpack on, gave a quick wave to the smith and his son, and jogged out the door, hoping he'd make it to the bus stop before the next bit of public transit did.

Barbara was greedy. She'd always known this, always had to keep herself reined in. Never ask for too much, never take too much... leave some for others.

Be a good girl, Barbara, her mother had always told her. And she'd tried, oh she'd tried. Tried to be good, to be small, to be demure and not catch His eye. Because if her stepfather thought she'd been been rude, or argumentative, or even just taken up too much space in his house....

Well, if it wasn't a blow to Barbara, it would certainly be a blow to her mother. And a bruise, either way, that took weeks to fade.

There were good memories built in there, too, happy moments. Family trips, and Christmases, and the pleasure (although always anxiety-tinged) of bringing home a report card filled all with "A"s....

She breathed, now, and remembered all over again why she'd been careful to never judge Jim on his grades. To offer him as much help studying as she could, when she could.

He was her good boy (oh, that loaded phrase, and how she tried to ignore its implications to her), her loving, caring son. And if he didn't get straight As, who cared. He had a good heart, and would never carry the cycle of abuse forward. She'd managed to break it, and he could be a janitor for all she cared, as long as he grew to be a good man.

But somehow Jim had managed to grow into a better, finer man than she'd ever dared dream, during a two years' ordeal that she hadn't lived, but that he had. It made her so proud, seeing what he'd become, knowing that she'd had even the smallest part in raising this amazing son who was attempting to quite literally save the world....

But now her greed was rearing its head again, because somehow, unexpectedly after all this time, she'd managed to have two sons.

(Greedy greedy greedy Barbara. Once upon a time, she'd wanted half a dozen babies. Then four. By the time she'd married, she'd admitted two would be best - but still secretly longed for three. And finally she'd had only one, but she'd still wanted more.)

The thing was, though, she'd somehow managed to adopt a son who was even more damaged than herself. But Douxie was equally, she thought, committed to stopping that cycle of hurt in its tracks. Quiet and gentle and loving. He was an amazing musician, though prone to deflecting any compliments onto nine centuries of practice....

...And like Jim, he was both made of steel and bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

There was sure as hell no family therapist qualified to take on any of this, she thought with a sigh. Barbara was just glad Douxie was old enough, physically, to not have to attend school. Getting Archie registered as an Emotional Support Animal and dealing with the inherent cruelty of children to others who were different than them would have been a nightmare.

Which was why coming home and finding Steve Palchuk, who Jim had mentioned to her over the years as the school's biggest bully, sitting at her dining table and mooning over her missing older son, was quite a surprise to Barbara.

"Jim...?" she asked, looking on warily as Steve babbled on about "and he's so tall..." with hearts in his eyes.

"Yeah." Jim knocked his wooden spoon twice against the rim of the pot then set it down on the spoon rest, turning around to regard Steve through the window to the dining room. "So, you remember that shelf of cursed objects down in the Arena?"

"Uh-huh." Barbara nodded. She'd taken a look at it once, out of curiosity. It had been mostly gold coins, a few obscenely large gems, and a couple pieces of jewelry.

"Steve decided that 'D&A Only' meant that he was free to touch everything, and put on a cursed love ring." Jim shook his head. "I halfway want to leave it on him until Aja gets here, but I guess that would be mean to her."

"Krel would think it was hilarious," Toby piped up. He seemed to be filming Steve with his phone.

"Is that why you're recording him?" asked Barbara.

"Shyeah, of course, Doctor L.!" Toby replied. "Krel's going to laugh his rear off once I show this to him."

"Well," Jim allowed, "it will be a good distraction from their millions of problems we're about to get hit with."

Barbara blinked. "Millions of problems...?"

"Yep." Toby nodded. "Adapting to Earth culture, to high school, dealing with trying to save their parents' lives, fix their ship...." He had lowered his phone and was ticking points off on the fingers of one hand. "Interstellar bounty hunters, Colonel Crazy from Area 49-B, getting Gaylen's Core before Morando does, and, oh yeah, the entire evil-dictator-who-took-over-their-planet-coming-for-them thing." He looked at Jim. "Did I miss any?"

Jim shrugged. "Dunno, I wasn't here, remember, Tobes? I heard about it all secondhand." He looked at Barbara again though. "They're really fun. And they know how to catch lightning in a bottle."

"Lightning in a...?" She adjusted her glasses. "Well, I'll look forward to meeting them."

Just then the front door opened, Douxie walking in, and Steve shot up, beaming like he'd won the lottery.

Getting glomped by Steve was rather like being hugged by an octopus, Douxie thought. "Steve-- Steve! Let me put away my skateboard, all right?"

The blond reluctantly let most of him go, but still held onto his hand as Douxie managed to open the hall closet and stow his belongings.

"Hey, Doux, welcome home!" Toby called, waving. Douxie looked up at him to see that he was clearly filming the whole thing on his cellphone.

"Really, Toby?" he complained as he walked over and the besotted idiot attached to him followed.

"Yeah, really," Toby defended. "This is priceless."

"Gotta agree with Tobes," Jim said, leaning across the kitchen cutout. "This is golden."

Douxie sighed, locking eyes with Barbara, hoping his exasperation showed as he gestured at Steve. "This? This is why I'm not into the whole sex and romance thing."

She shrugged, smiling. "Different strokes, kiddo."

"Exactly." Sighing, Douxie turned to regard his love-stricken ally. "Steve, can I have the ring back?"

Brown eyes widened, and one hand clutched at the other, hiding the emerald ring. "You... you want it back? But it's a sign of our love!"

"You know it doesn't work like that, Douxie," Archie said from by his feet. "A curse will resist all attempts at breaking it. He's not going to want to give the ring up."

"It was worth a try," Douxie said with a shrug. He contemplated his options. "Hmm. Actually...." He looked back at Steve, put on his most charming smile. "Steve. Would you like to go up to my room?"

Steve's eyes widened again. He clutched his hands to his chest like a maiden aunt. "But... but isn't it a little soon for that?" he worried. "I mean, we've just barely started seeing one another."

Toby was snickering. Jim was just barely holding his own laughter in. Douxie ignored both of the heathens who were his brother and friend. "Not for that, Steve, I promise." He put on his best "in love" acting and brushed fingers through Steve's hair, leaning in close to murmur, "I care for you too much for that."

Steve brightened. And the snickering duo's laughter cut off as if with a knife.

"I just have something up there I want to show you," Douxie murmured. "We can leave the door open. I promise."

He could practically feel Archie rolling his eyes. But it worked. Steve relaxed again and nodded. "Okay," he said, happy again, and followed Douxie up the stairs.

Once they were in his room, he directed Steve to sit on the bed, while Douxie himself rummaged through his bottom dresser drawer, where he kept various items, including.... "Ah, there you are," he murmured, picking out the object and closing the drawer. He turned and approached Steve, sitting down beside him, still putting on the semblance of a lover boy. "My darling," Douxie said, "I've thought about it, and I want to give you something better than that ring. Something I forged with my own hand and my own heart. Will you allow me?"

And four pairs of eyes were looking in through the open door as Steve nodded and finally--finally!--allowed Douxie to draw the cursed ring from his finger.

The lovestruck expression didn't drop from Steve's face, though.

Not until Douxie slid the other ring--plain, dull silver, forged of Fae-iron--onto his finger in its place.

Then the curse cut off cold.

Steve blinked.

Looked at Douxie.

And threw himself shrieking from the bed.

Douxie rolled his eyes, tucked the cursed ring away in his pocket, and stood. "And that's why you don't mess with curses, Steve," he said flatly.

Steve clawed at his finger. "Get it off, get it off, man!" he yelled, and finally managed to scrabble the ring free.

"Thank you, I will be taking that." Douxie plucked the cursebreaker out from between his fingers. Steve looked up at him, eyes huge, overwrought and panicking. Douxie sighed. "Go home, Steve. Eat some dinner, get a good night's sleep, and you'll feel better about all this in the morning," he instructed.

Steve nodded wildly and scrambled upright, heading for the door, shoving out between Jim and Toby, Archie leaping nimbly out of his way. He paused, though, and looked back at Douxie. "We can still be friends...?" he asked weakly.

Douxie nodded. "Yes, Steve, we can still be friends." He waited until the blond nodded. Until he heard him thunder down the stairs. Until he heard the front door of the house open and shut, Steve leaving. Then he put his face in his palm and muttered, "Gods save me from idiots."

Author's Note: Douxie is riffing on The Proclaimers' I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles). Nuffink telling Douxie (and Archie) to not be silly is what my 5yo tells me all the time. (Incidentally, good luck on that one, kiddo! If you wanted a non-silly Mummy and Daddy, you should've been born into a different family.) I took Coach Lawrence and Mrs. Palchuk's first names from their voice actors.