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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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God, I love the Cave Boy series. Will the batfam manage to find him after he dips. Will they ever find out about his powers. So many questions

Danny stays underground for days.

He doesn't know the exact time frame because he only goes to the surface to grab supplies. He makes sure to only fully emerge when there is no light out.

It was a bigger risk to be caught by the Waynes, who only operated in the dark, but it ensured fewer eyewitnesses were around. Danny Kane was still a very hot celebrity for taking down the Joker- he would be surrounded by a mob of fans if he walked down the street.

He moved his ship into a deeper cave by phasing the large metal and all his equipment through solid rock, which was not easy. It was a miracle he found a little pocket to set up shop.

Danny thinks the little pocket- surrounded by stone with no opening at all, was formed after a cave-in at one point. It was large enough to work on his ship and had just enough space to set up a sleeping bag and a tent for rest.

He rarely uses that space nowadays.

Danny had stolen from a camping store- taking with him an entire box of lanterns that he placed strategically around his space. They threw light to the large four walls of stone- making him feel trapped inside a midevil dungeon, and somehow, it also made him think incredulity alone.

That was the worst part of this whole change of scenery. He doesn't want to admit it, but he got used to Wayne Manor and the colorful characters there.

He hadn't even done anything besides lay around but he missed the sound of people. Even before Bruce had found him, Danny would see people often as he wandered around gathering a sense of the city.

Now, he was genuinely suffocating alone. He didn't feel the loss often, but there were times when it felt like being hit by a truck.

It's when his own ice powers reach into his bones, causing his teeth to clatter and curl up into a smaller ball on the cave ground, that Danny misses the Manor the most. He stole food from the stores- but without any way to cook or heat it up, it's limited to the packed food.

Sometimes, while eating packs of dried fruit, he thinks longingly of Alfred's warm meals. Then he remembers how they looked at him when his lies got so out of hand that they believed Bruce's parents lived in his world and he could suppress the longing to return.

Danny has made leaps and bounds on building his ship since he no longer pretends to be Brucie. He no longer filled the hours with nonsense, only being awake to work or stealing what he needed to continue working.

Unlike before, Danny had developed a tunnel version of finishing his project. He no longer wanted to give himself time to ensure everything was fine.

He just wanted to go home.

He's gotten better at wielding using his own ghost laser, and now his ship had its full body. It was missing seats, a window, and even a steering program that actually turned when he wanted- but he was getting closer and closer every day.

All the small technology pieces he stole from the Waynes were on one side- ripped apart for the needed parts. He would spend hours carefully opening everything to check what he could use and what he could melt down to repurpose.

Danny carefully pulls out some small wires from the electric candle he took from the Wayne Dinner table when his vision blurs. He takes a moment to blink rapidly, trying to let the sudden burst of lightheadedness pass him.

Sadly, it was only a few seconds before he crumbled to the hard ground. He gasps, the cold coming back tenfold, and he can do nothing but lay there and pray the pain passes.

Danny hadn't felt this weak since his ice core first developed. Even the first Ghostly Wail hadn't made his limbs feel this heavy.

He knows he has been pushing himself too far lately- barely eating or sleeping- but Danny can't risk any wasted second. He saw the resources the Bats have.

It was only a matter of time before they found him- even if they would need to drill through the solid stone for hours to reach him- and he didn't want to face them after the guilt of lying to them was slowly eating him alive.

He had kept the Wayne at arm's length the entire time, living under the pretense of being Bruce Wayne's counterpart. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with their nightly battle against evil- and he didn't!- and that he could care less if they treated him as family.

He took everything they gave him without hesitation, telling himself they were fools for letting anyone in and stealing from them. Danny thought it would not matter as he would finish his ship and be flying home long before they realized he wasn't Bruce.

Until they stop treating him so warmly after killing the Joker. Danny wasn't sorry about it, but suddenly, he was a stranger in a crowd to them.

Danny had no right to be upset. He lied. He didn't want to be Brucie to them and had actively made Tim look bad by being as Unproactive as possible, going along with changed narratives of his world.

Danny had used the Waynes.

Yes, he did so, believing they were a cult or an evil madman, but he learned that wasn't the case early on. He could have ended the lie at any moment, but he didn't because he figured it would be harmless.

Then he realized that Bruce's parents were killed in front of him- the story wasn't hard to find when he actually bothered to look into the Waynes at a local high school library after hours.

Not only did he find the horrific story, but he found out that almost all the Waynes had a tragic story. Dick's parents were murdered in an accident that wasn't an accident at all.

Tim's parents were killed by a madman with boomerangs. Jason's father died in prison, and his mother overdosed before Bruce took him in. Duke's parents were patients with no working mind because of the Joker (Danny should have made his death last longer).

The only ones that didn't seem to be Cass and Damian, but he knew it was likely due to Bruce not wanting the public to learn that they came from abusive households- he figured that much out by their reactions.

Even Alfred had a history of PTSD from his time in the army. There was an article about a scandal when Bruce had actually been a child- apparently, someone had thought to release firecrackers under the servant's table, and Alfred had panicked. People had mocked him about it for months.

Everyone had a reason to be a villain, yet they all had opened their home to him and been nothing but kind. They were good, and they treated him like family.

Danny felt sick with himself, for being so self-centered he never bothered to really get to know them. And now he never could.

A few tears rolled down his face as his vision started to blur out more and more.

No use crying over it now, Fenton. Though the haze of exhaustion doesn't let him get up from the floor, he thinks bitterly.

He'll rest for a little bit, then get back to work. Only for a few minutes/

Danny doesn't notice his body has shifted in his Ghist side, slowly redirecting his energy to his core, so that his healing could help overcome the unknown days.

He is not aware his heartbeat stops at the same time.

_____________________________________________________________

"I can't hear him anymore!" A young boy screams, pressing his ear against a stone. Horror clouds his voice as he turns to stare at another boy. "His heartbeat....it's not...."

"We must make haste! Breakthrough now!" The other boy snaps.

"But that might cause the cave to fall on top of him." The other rubs his hands together nervously. "I think we may be too late to save-"

"Every second we waste is a second that Brucie gets closer to death!" His company growls savagely, though the tears in his eyes make him less scary. "We have to at least bring his body home- we-I can't- he needs to be buried properly."

Not even a second passed before the other boy threw his shoulders back, yanking out his phone and pressing a speed dial two.

His father picks up two rings. "Jon?"

"Dad! We found Brucie! He was stuck in a cave underneath the tunnels leading to Gotham Cemetry. Can you come help me get him out?"

"I'll be right there."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #cave boy #Part 8 #Danny is starting to feel guilty #The bats found him #Damian and Jon friendship #It's not good to not take care of yourself

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dinanikto · 3 months

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Spoilers: Episode 4 of the Walten Files

I think people misunderstood Felix as a character?

I've seen so many fans WISHING that Felix would actually die?? Like, "if I was Jack, I would beat the shit out of Felix" or "Felix, do a flip".

I thought it was shown pretty well that he is not in the right state of mind.

Before reading this, please, gather all of your compassion and sympathy, and listen to what I'm about to say with a clear mind.

Let's speak chronologically:

1) Felix and Jack meet in college and decide to create animatronic-based restaurant. They are teens/young adults in the year 1958-1964 (not truly canon, but close to). According to Martin, they're very close, they love and trust each other.

2) Jack meets Rosemary, they start dating. She creates designs for Bon and other characters.

Felix is, presumably, left alone to himself, as he doesn't have anyone else.

3) They graduate and contact CyberFun Tech.

Felix meets and marries Linda, while Jack and Rosemary have their first kid.

4) october 30th, 1964.

Linda notes Felix's heavy drinking and his poor self image. She's stressed and scared.

Felix is close with the Walten family. Jack and Rose get two more kids, and they all call him uncle!

And yet, he doesn't feel welcome. He uses alcohol as a coping mechanism. "He drinks for the sole purpose of drinking!"

Please note, the year is 1964!! Even nowadays not many people can get help and cure their addictions. Not many people believe that they can, or that they deserve it.

5) december 25th, 1970.

Krankens and Waltens are so close they spend Christmas together. And yet, Felix is burdened with something.

Jack and Rose are lovey dovey, Felix and Linda are not. Waltens have three kids that love their parents deeply, Krankens do not. Jack is happy, and Felix is not.

He's still using alcohol to calm himself down.

He can't control himself anymore.

Linda tries to talk to him, but Felix doesn't respond. Or rather, it's how Linda frames it.

"He feels bad about it, but doesn't try to change."

Honestly? Sounds like he tries to communicate, but his depression isn't letting him do it well. Again, it's 1970, and I don't think anyone has ever truly tried to help him.

He's a man. Why can't he man up? Jack is doing fine, why can't you, Felix?

Or why won't you just tell everyone how you feel? It's not like men have been bottling their emotions for decades now, right?

6) april 1974.

The Bon's Burgers is about to be open in a few weeks.

Felix and Linda have a fight (verbal). He hurts her feelings.

Jack asks Felix to pick up kids from a school party. Felix says no at first, but Jack won't listen.

Eventually, Felix says yes.

7) morning of may 2nd, 1974.

Linda leaves Felix. Only thing left after her is a note.

No talking, no nothing. His wife of 10+ years left him.

Have you ever gone through a breakup? A breakup with your spouse? Were you in an intoxicated state of mind when your wife left you? Were you depressed when seemingly everyone have left you?

Wait, right, he has Waltens. So of course he's gonna get those kids home, that's the only thing left for him! Everyone are asking him of it.

7) evening of may 2nd, 1974.

The car crash happens.

8) may 3rd, 1974.

He's awfully drunk. He's depressed. He got almost killed. He tried to kill himself twice. He has no one to talk about this with.

He has killed two children. Children that he loved.

Jack is going to hate him. And he does! Jack DOES want to kill him, Felix knows it even before speaking to him.

Note that he's not afraid of Rosemary.

9) may 3-6th, 1974.

He hides. He doesn't sleep for three days, and gets hallucinations.

He's scared. But the fact he actually faced Waltens is surprising. He's trying to fix things as best as he can.

10) may 6th, 1974

He lies. What else can he do?

Jack disappears. Susan disappears. Rosemary and Charles disappear. Brian and Ashley disappear.

And THIS is noway near his fault.

Bon's Burgers close. He has no money, several murder cases. Everybody is dead.

_____________________________________________

And after all of this, people don't find Felix even a little bit likeable? But support an agressive, irrational Jack, who was blind to his brother's struggling and pain? Who was the only person to not notice Felix's drinking problem?!? I'm confused.

I feel like Felix almost constantly. The mentally ill guy with no support system, that has no one to talk to. Never the one to get any help, even when having a "family".

And it's not like he thinks that he deserves love and attention. He never goes searching for Linda. He tries to end his life multiple times. He's masking as a nice corporate guy, while suffering internally.

He suffers more than anybody else in the series. And why? What did he do? Did anyone teach him how to deal with these situations?

In conclusion: don't hate people. Never ever wish the worst for them, especially publicly.

And if you associate yourself with Kranken? Try to get help. Again, and again, and again. We live in a scary, but wonderful world. Your life is worth living, you deserve to be happy. Don't give up.

#muting this post. please dm me if you have any questions #twf #the walten files #twf felix #my thingies

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olderthannetfic · 2 months

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Getting this off my chest:

Back from a small fanfic hiatus, and I am absolutely flabbergasted by all of the fic authors now practically begging their readers to READ THE TAGS.

I’ve been seeing this warning written in summaries, in author’s notes, highlighted in all caps in the actual tags. I’ve read so many apologies written by authors in the comments in response to people chastising the author for writing what they wanted to write, for what they tagged correctly — for what essentially comes down to nothing more than having had other people actively ignore their tags or read despite them.

And there seems to be this bizarre, somehow largely accepted idea that it is the creators job and responsibility to beseech their readers to ‘use caution’ and to ‘stay safe’, to ‘be mindful of their health’…

I am beyond confused here.

Since when??? did exercising the most basic form of common sense and acknowledging one’s personal yeas and nays, likes and limitations, become some other random stranger’s burden rather than one’s own? And especially a random person who tagged their work correctly??? Does no one remember how to harness their own powers of discernment and self-regulation???

This little jaunt back onto ao3 has been unlike any that I’ve ever experienced before. What. Happened?????? Who is this new, apparently severely emotionally unstable and obstinately tags-reading resistant audience everyone has come to focus on?

It all feels so out of touch. The basic concept of ao3 is for the reader to seek out what they want, not what they don’t want. And to actually read. But there seems to have been an extremely strong shift away from reading. On ao3. A site built specifically for reading and writing. (And other fandom artistic pursuits, but not my focus, atm; though I’m sure whatever this is has crept steadily into all spaces there.)

Plummeting reading comprehension must be somewhat to blame; the popularity of fanfic amongst younger and wider audiences, as well. But… young people have always been there, as far as my own experiences go, and it was never like this. It’s as if too many readers don’t know how to make good or even practical decisions for themselves anymore, that they’ve lost the skill of choosing, and now believe that they must consume everything that passes before them; — that they have, for some reason, adopted the belief that any turmoil or dislike or discomfort felt within themselves is harm purposely being done to them by the author.

Idk. Idk, idk, idk. It’s just such a bummer to see how much nervousness and distress has entered the community. Authors notes and comments used to be hilarious fun, or a peek into someone else’s real-life world, used to be casual and full of personality, whereas nowadays, there seems to be an underlying hesitancy and distrust, a sort of growing divide between writers and readers, groups which, until recently, very much were not mutually exclusive.

Idiots have been around forever. The more you cater to them, the more entitled they get. It's best to shut that shit down fast and use no warnings that indicate a willingness to entertain stupid complaints.

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 1 month

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Can I request "The red string theory" with 2012 Leo x Reader? It's basically when two people are connected and bound to meet when the time is right, regardless of the place or circumstance. (Could be platonic or romantic!)

I've been craving 2012 stuff for so longgg!

(I love and adore your work a bunch you have no idea💗!!! this is actually my first time requesting something. I've been so freaking nervous 😿)

-🦈💙

The Red Thread of Fate (Fluff)

2012!Leonardo x reader

A/N: Soulmate stuff! I love it! I’ve always loved reading other people’s soulmate fanfics, so I’m happy to finally make one of my own. And I hope that you find this fitting for your first request😊 Love ya bunches!💙

Warning: Most likely spelling💙

East Asian folklore explains that everybody is tied to their future partner, by a small invisible red string. Chinese mythology has the string tied around the destiny partners’ ankles, while in Japan it was often shown with the string tied around the woman’s little finger and the man’s thumb, even though nowadays it was usually shown only around the little finger on each person. And that was just the versions you were aware of.

You guessed that you had a string too. Sometimes you could feel it, and sometimes you couldn’t. Small, sometimes tightening a little around your pinky, pulling ever so slightly at you until you would move, but nothing would come of it. No one would be standing there and waiting for you when you walked into the other room, and well, suddenly you couldn’t feel the pull on your finger anymore, leaving you standing with a strange empty feeling inside.

Other times you swear you saw it. For a split second you could swear that you saw something small and red tied around your little finger, with a thread like string trailing off from it. However, with the blink of an eye, it was gone, or pinky once again looking as plain as ever.

As time progressed, you find yourself wondering more and more, your searching for answers becoming more and more prevalent. You had long longed to find that special someone, that you could share your life with. The one that could make you feel like the world's prettiest and luckiest person, and that you in turn would make feel the same. The one that you would be willing to work through ups and downs with, knowing there could be no highs without any lows. The one that you would find at the end of this invisible red string you found at the end of your pinky finger, every now and again teasing you with its elusive existens, and the knowledge that your future partner was out there somewhere, probably looking and thinking about you, the same way you were looking and thinking about for them.

But no matter how many times you found yourself dreaming and wondering about your soulmate, you had never thought that he would be close by. So close that he would be under your feet, literally.

One day you found yourself sitting in your bedroom, lost in thoughts, dreaming about that face you hadn’t seen yet. With all of your responsibilities laid out on your bed before you in paper form, you simply could not concentrate, your thoughts continuously wandering off to better places, only to find yourself back in your bedroom, with your work and homework laying out in front of you, just waiting for you to get them done.

You let out a frustrated sigh, letting your eyes scan over the paper in your hand. What was the point of sitting here and dreaming? Dreaming wasn’t going to bring your soulmate to you any faster. If this red string around your finger was as true as you wanted to believe it was, then you couldn’t force it. Your soulmate wouldn’t come around before time is ready for it, so spending too much time dwelling on it was not helping it. It was better to get going with your life and let it come to you along the way. So with yet another sigh, you took a hold of your pen, looking down over the paper one more time.

Then, as if the universe heard your thoughts as they ran through your head, your window smashed, sending someone hurling into your bedroom, landing directly on your floor, glass shards flying everywhere. You let out an ear piercing scream, standing up on your bed, looking down at the guy on your floor, groaning as he sat up, rubbing his head with green three fingered hand… Green three fingered hand!?

You stared in a mixture of awe, shock and a little fear at the green figure on your floor. Green, with a darker green colored shell on his back, his torso enclosed with a light brown plastron, his eyes wrapped with a blue bandana, with eye holes making his blue eyes visible, when he looked up at you. A turtle? A humanoid turtle?

Silence fell between the two of you, both of you staring at each other on high alert, unsure of what to do. After what felt like an eternity of looking into his light blue eyes, the turtles slowly lifted his hands, trying to signal to you that he had no intentions to harm you. But that was not what you noticed. Instead you noticed something thin and red, tied around his pinky finger. A red thread.

You took in a sharp breath when you saw the thread continue off his finger in a small line, your eyes slowly following it until you saw it coming to an end at your finger - tied around your pinky. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, your gaze shaking as you looked back at the turtle man on your bedroom floor. No way.

The turtle seemed just as shocked as you, his eyes flickering between you and his hand, before slowly taking a hold of his tied hand, looking at it like he couldn’t believe what he saw. Whatever he and his brothers had been fighting out on the other roof was long forgotten, with the sight in front of him being the only thing he could think of. He had always dreamed of this moment, but never dared believing it could actually happen. Him, a mutant turtle living in the sewers, actually meeting his soulmate, a human.

Still standing on your bed, just shoulders slowly came down from the tens positions, your lungs letting go of the breath you had been holding. His round, yet strangely handsome face calmed something in you. Something before now, had never noticed, was so turbulent, slowly coming to a calming halt.

“I- I’m (Y/N)”, you said in a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, his mouth slowly coming agape. “W- who are you?”

“L- Leo”, he answered, with a stammer letting you know that he was just as nervous as you. “Leonardo”.

“Leonardo”, you repeated with a small nod, not noticing the shiver he felt when he said your name. “Cool name”.

“T- thank you”, he said, slowly coming to a stand on your bedroom floor, coming to his full height, making a butterfly burst to life somewhere deep within your stomach. “Uhm…”, he continued, unsure on how to proceed. “H- have you heard of, uhm… the red thread of fate?”, he asked, holding up his hand with the red threat.

“Yes”, you answered, holding up your own.

Silence fell over the two of you once more, this time with small nervous smiles, both of you wreaking and turning your minds, finding something to say, that didn’t involve just smiling at each other like two idiots that were slowly falling in love. That was when you were interrupted by the sound of Leo’s brothers, calling out for him to help them with what threw him into your room in the first place.

“Shit, I have to go”, Leo said, looking from the broken window to you. “Listen, I- I will be back, I promise! But me and my brothers have a little, uh, problem to take care of”.

“Brothers?”, you asked, your unsurety washing away by the moment as you stepped down from your bed. “There are more of you?”

“There is”, Leo smiled, seeming to calm down when you stepped closer to him, getting lost in the thought of your once again, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. Was he so lucky? So lucky that not only would he meet his soulmate, but get to kiss his soulmate the same day. By your close proximity and your awestruck face it seemed like it. He could just lean forward and do it. He could just kiss you right now, while you smiled at him, seeming to just be waiting for him to do it-.

“Dammit, Leo! We’re losing our shells out here!”

“Oh! Yeah! Shit! Sorry, Raph!”, Leo said, before quickly running for the window, stepping one foot on the window ledge before turning towards you one last time. “I will be back, I promise… And sorry about the window, I’ll get that fixed for you”.

“Thank you, Leo. I’ll be waiting for you”, you smiled, causing the turtle's heart to skip. He stared at you for a moment, feeling his heart jump around inside his chest, wondering if all of this was a dream.

“See you soon, (Y/N)”, Leo said, dwelling in the fuzzy feeling he felt when he spoke your name.

“LEO! AARRRRGH!! HE GOT DONNIE’S ANKLE! HE GOT DONNIE’S ANKLE!”

“I’m coming, Mikey!”, Leo yelled before hurrying up the fire escape. You quickly ran to the window, wishing to see him one last time, only to find him already on your roof, in the last second before he leaped over the alleyway below with ease, running to whatever situation his brothers were in. You stood back in awe, a chuckle of disbelief pushing past your lips. You had just met your soulmate - the man that had been waiting at the red of your red thread - and he was a turtle. A humanoid turtle with the ability to jump over alleyways. If you decided to tell anyone, they would never believe you. And even you wondered for a moment if you had made the whole thing up. That was until you realized you no longer felt a tug in your little finger, but instead a storm of butterflies in your stomach.

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the-modern-typewriter · 9 months

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Do you have any advice on writing a truly scary villain?? How do I make them genuinely terrifying but also still realistically human y’know?

The short answer is 'be specific', think about all the ways that humans can be scary, and show how the villain is scary/human by the story stakes/other character's reactions to them.

The longer, more rambling, answer is...

Whenever I think about villains, and a lot of the study that goes into villains/monsters, I think about the idea of either the Self or the Other.

Villain as Self:

The self is the us, in 'us vs them'. It is what we recognise within ourselves when we look at and explore villains.

This often comes with a realistically human motivation. For example, it could be that the villain is motivated by greed, recognition or desire for power or control (flaws that many of us have) or fear, desire to protect ourselves/our loved ones (good qualities that many of us have that become warped) and all these motivations ultimately lead the villain to do awful thing. We don't think we'd do the bad thing ourselves, but there is an uneasy terror in recognising that actually we might.

Alternatively, it is the villain who is well-respected and loved. The person we trust. The person we feel safe with. Except, we're not safe. And we can't tell, because we think they're just like us, and in many ways they are, and that's horrifying.

This kind of villain is always the dark side of our own society, our own assumptions and ideologies and belief systems. They are very popular at the moment.

We as a people are deeply uneasy with our own monstrosity.

Villain as Other

The 'other' is the 'them'. It's the fear that many of us still have with what is different to us, or what we don't understand or know.

This is the villain that is the random stranger, not secretly your best friend. It's, historically speaking looking at literary canon, the cannibal savages in different cultures. It's aliens. It's monsters where the scary thing is that they have no humanity, nothing we can reason with, a morality that is completely different to ours etc.

We as a people are still deeply uneasy about what we don't understand, even if many of us are trying to be better about it.

Some villains are a mixture of the two, but broadly speaking, you're considering the Villain as Self vibe of villain. I mention both because I find it interesting, and because our ideas of otherness are so often tied with our ideas of monstrosity that I can't not!

Scary nowadays often looks very much like someone persecuting what is considered 'other' or 'different'.

What is actually scary?

The first part of writing a genuinely scary villain is tapping into something that is genuinely scary.

While the vague can work, when it comes to villains that are realistically human, specificity is your friend. We understand these people, or at the very least we know and recognise them. And it's not a broad threat of 'end of the world' that tends to scare us most, it's much more personal.

We don't want to get hurt. We don't want to lose someone we love. We are scared when we realise we completely misjudged a person we trusted. We are scared when we see someone do something terrible and have a gut lurching feeling that, in their circumstances, we might do the same thing because we absolutely recognise the feeling and the motivation. We are scared when we see villains who persecute people just like us, because we know there's an uncomfortable sliver of truth to it.

Story stakes

All the above bit is all to do with your character understanding and construction. The internal bit. The premise of your character.

Story stakes is external and how you apply your character in your story. In short - if there is clearly no chance of your villain ever winning, and nothing bad ever happens and you just tell people that they are scary, the reader has no reason to believe you.

Have other characters react in terror to your villain. Have the villain's actions and goals have consequences in the story. They must be a genuine threat within the story world, even if they lose in the end. I hope this helps!

#villains #writing talk #writing tips #writing advice #creative writing #villain #monsters

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jaylienpotter · 6 months

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Conceited

Jegulus one-shot

Warning: Lily Evans bashing (kinda)

"Why don't you give me a chance? Even to be friends?!"

Regulus turned around and walked towards the source of the noise. He knew that voice very well.

"I hate you, Potter!"

Seemed like Black's crush was getting rejected again. Part of him was sad for his brother's best friend, another, more selfish side of him, was relieved.

"Why?! What did I ever do to you? I know I was a prick to Snape sometimes-"

"You're a bully!"

"I'm not a bully! Snape isn't stupid, nor weak, nor innocent. He does the exact same thing we did to him! He's not a victim." He wasn't wrong, to be a bully meant it was one-sided. Snape and Potter were more like mortal enemies.

"Even then, you're still a rich, obnoxious, arrogant, selfish prat who doesn't shut up about himself! You're so bloody conceited!"

That hit. He could see the hurt in those dark brown eyes. People didn't know the effort the tanned skinned boy put into helping others, making sure everyone is happy, included, safe. He could have all eyes on him yet no one noticed. Except Reg. He noticed James.

"That's not true." The pair turned to him in surprise, pale hands becoming fidgety with the sudden notion of being watched. He kind of regretted speaking up.

"James doesn't talk about himself. Yes, he's sometimes a bit obnoxious and loud, and he does talk a lot but it's never centered around himself. You're getting confused with my brother, Evans."

"Oh, please. Those two are the same. You're not in Gryffindor, you don't hear them all the time." Right, but he did hear from the boy in private. In their late night talks that started after Sirius ran away. Because James didn't want Reg to feel alone. He noticed. He cared. He helped.

"What does he say then? About himself. Not about his friends. Or the stupid pranks they all pull." He dragged the word 'all', making it a point that it didn't count.

"Do you know his favourite colour? Favourite animal? Favourite classes and professors? His grades? How many people he's dated? Anything about his home life? His life goals and dreams?" It was too late to back out, the rant had begun, and you bet Blacks finish what they start.

"Because I don't think so. He might talk a shit lot, but it's about his group plans, his friends, making jokes, making others laugh when feeling like shit as so many do nowadays," himself included. "It takes a lot to get him to talk about himself as an individual, actually. You would know if you gave him a chance. But for someone so against judgemental people, you really do focus on his appearance." Green eyes wide, pink lips shut tight. Regulus contained his smirk.

"He's a good person. A great friend. Selfless and caring despite being from an old pureblood family. And he fights for what he thinks is right. He fights for others. With his big personality comes a big heart. So if you don't make space for the love he has to offer just because you think you don't believe he has it in him, he's not the conceited one." Red hair nearly flew with Lily's stormed exit. She hadn't liked their interaction in the slightest. It was better that way. She wasn't deserving.

Piercing dark eyes were burning a whole through black curls. Reg avoided James's gaze, afraid of what he'd say. He only faced him when he felt the boy closer, and he could swear Potter's eyes were sparkling.

"You meant that...?"

"Of course. You care so much about everyone else that you forget yourself. You couldn't tell me what you wanted to do in the future because it would depend on what your friends decided to do with their lives. You're the most selfless person I know, and if she thinks otherwise, she doesn't deserve your love or friendship."

Silence. He really wanted the older boy to say something, but he just stared, lips slightly parted. Icy blue eyes looked away, shoulders tensing from the attention.

Warm strong arms surrounded his small figure, nearly making him halt. But Potter's sweet, intoxicating smell had him relax and melt in his arms, wrapping his much slimmer ones around his tanned waist.

"Thanks, Reggie." His heart skipped a beat at the nickname and he hoped James didn't feel it against his own chest. He was also thankful to have his face covered, absolutely certain that his white cheeks had turned fully pink.

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datshitrandom · 9 days

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How was to be in a gay relationship (klaine) on screen?

“It was fucking awesome man. I mean the main thing here, like not because I’m trying to be blasé about the obvious thing in this question because we are saying that this is a gay relationship, nowadays, we just call it a relationship on tv, but to contextualize it, a gay relationship on mainstream Fox Network, that’s a pretty cool thing to be a part of. I often equate my relationship to that whole experience to Slumdog Millionaire which is, if you are familiar with Slumdog Millionaire is a kid that gets ask a bunch of questions and he just so happens to have the experience to answer this very specific things, now being cisgender straight kid you go 'oh oh what? are you going to allow this guy to talk gay shit?', I’ve been so culturally queer my whole life, not because I’m trying you know, actually, I was gonna say not because I’m trying to be cool but I’m gonna erase that, is because I am trying to be cool. All the sh— in my life that I have tried to emulate, learn from and be inspired by are one hundred percent queer as f—. It was in queer communities that I’ve found people that I idolize, that I want to be, to learn something from. And I’d say that’s a gross generalization, that’s a lot of things and a lot of people. But I grew up in San Francisco in the ’90s. I watched men die. There was an awareness of the gay experience that was not a foreign concept to me. So, it was a narrative that I cared deeply about. I wasn’t like a f— saint or like 'I’m the man for the job', they hired me and they said, 'You’re the guy,' and I said, 'Okay, I’m the guy I will do my best, I will do my best to talk about it in the way I believe and a way that I’m passionate about'. So in many ways I’m glad that it was me because it was a thing that I really like showing up for and it meant a great deal to me that it meant a great deal to other people. Because when people say they were affected by that show or that relationship, it’s not because of me, it’s because of that relationship on a TV and the risks that people took to put that on TV and most important of all it took the people watching it to have the "aptitude" for seeing beyond what was maybe given to them in other avenues of culture. People of all ages, all spectrums of awareness say, 'I didn’t grow up with a show like that and it was a really meaningful thing for me to see,’ and I go ‘I didn’t grow up with a show like that’ and that would’ve been very meaningful for me too, you know?, regardless of the fact that I’m a straight kid. That has value. For anyone who’s been an underdog, we all know, in any shape or form — sexual, religious, biological, whatever — it has value because there’s going to be a lot of people who see that and go, 'Okay, I can now understand this in a context that maybe I wasn’t able to before'. So short story long, what was it like? It was a fucking privilege and I love talking about it and I’m so grateful I got to do it." - Darren Criss at the Chicago Comic & Entertainment Expo Q&A | April 27th, 2024

#i'm in a fucking rage rn #a transcript of what darren said at the c2e2 #because y’all fucking suck for being stupid and only reading all those clickbait headlines with words out of context #and jumping to conclusions #instead of listening to what he ACTUALLY SAID #stop twisting his words #stop blowing things out of context #all that makes perfect sense #his whole worldview has been shaped by queer culture #so yes he IS culturally queer #and he fucking embraces it #he is grateful for that #and shows himself as an ally #what’s wrong with that?!?!?#he isn't taking advantage of the community #and he didn't make claims about his sexuality #so back off #and as a member of the community i'll tell u #that if something as simple as him painting his nails with bright colors #or him being comfortable surrounding himself of queer culture offends you #thats a fucking you problem #hope that one day we will stop going after the only few cis straight guys that are actually really trying to be good allies #and embrace our community and culture like this man does #⋯⋯⋯⋯#chicago comic & entertainment expo #c2e2 #darren criss

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missbluesunflowersstuff · 6 months

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Some Dick Grayson headcanon

I did some headcanon based in canon stuff and also random things, this is more around the batkids and Dick . Please respect

All batkids lie to Batman, ALL.OF.THEM and Dick is the one who lie to Batman and the others Robins (he is the oldest child guys, he will use his power for evil for fun)

He worries about Jason a lot and Dick will be happy in listen if Jason needs to talk

He also worries about Damian but for a different reason, and he still has Damian's adoption papers stored in his house (he mentions about wanting to adopt Damian in Nightwing 11)

Dick bond with Tim is pretty strong

He's Clark's favorite Robin and he knows it (Clark can deny it all he wants, but everyone knows it's Dick)

He accepted very well the fact that Damian changed the color of his uniform and turned the R into Redemption (he forgot to tell the boy what Robin was, but now Dick doesn't think it's right for a grown man to throw his moral responsibility onto a child then he is pretty ok with it )

Dick hates very single Bruce's former romantic partners, especially Khoa (Ghostmaker)

When Dick is tired of his siblings shit, he just needs to shout out "Superman" and less than 20min one of them will show up and pick up his brothers

Is Tim doing something potentially dangerous to himself? Here comes Kon carrying Tim like a sack of potatoes in one arm and Bart in another. Is Steph doing something also potentially dangerous to herself? Kara is on her way. Is Damian missing (again)? just one yell is enough and Jon will be landing on the ground while carrying Damian in his arms like a bride

There is this time that Dick ask Krypto (yep, the dog) to pick up the Robin, Dick's smile got bigger and bigger as the dog approached carrying Robin the mouth as if the boy were a puppy. After that, Damian never went two months without giving news about himself to Dick

Dick and Alfred always get the best gifts in the whole house

Dick is the best at reading people, this is not just a matter of body language, but actually understanding the situation and the person themselves. The more time this boy spends with someone, the better he will be able to understand them to the point of seeing transparency even in Bruce's actions

When he was little, during his circus days, he dreamed of being the ringmaster. Nowadays he is so good at reading the room and pulling strings for his own gain that he basically has made his dreams come true

He taught each of his brothers a different circus trick

Everyone blames Bruce for Damian's addiction to adopting pets, the truth is that Bruce just gave the dog, Dick allow Damian keep the cow and Dick encourages the adoption of his little brother's animals just to annoy Bruce and for everyone to blame Bruce even more

If you ask Batman who is the wost Robin, Bruce will say without hesitation that it's Dick and no one will believe in Bruce

Robin!Dick was a very energetic child, he made a lot of jokes and came from the circus and Bruce was a first-time father, so Dick was able to escape from Bruce and the mansion easily

Nowadays the only Robin who can escape Bruce's obsessive surveillance is Damian (who is a fucking ninja)

"You like the boy as if he were your son because he is a menace like you" - Jason Todd

No one believes in Bruce and Jason when they talk how difficult Dick was in the past (Babs, Kor'i, Wally and Roy can proof but they're in Dick side)

Dick knows many languages, but he really dedicated himself to learning Chinese after Cass was added to the family

The same applies for Arabic

He is actually pretty ok in hide on body if one of his siblings ask

knowing many languages can sometimes become a problem, he may forget a word in English and only remember it in a second or third language

"What is the name of that white liquid that can be ingested?"

and some hours later "MILK! The word was MILK!!!"

Dick always tries to spend quality time with all his siblings and checks in on them regularly (Cass and Damian are the most difficult since they don't use social media much)

Dick and Babs currently knows about Jason fanfiction account, they also reads the fics and leaves comments (Jason will never know it)

He also knows about Damian's fanart account, but will never tell the boy that (if you think Bruce and Tim are terrible you've definitely never read anything about Dick Grayson and its show)

His relationship with Bruce is complicated, to the point that they only interact after Damian's arrival. Dick still tries to understand Bruce, but he keeps the bar low

Never touch him without permission

He became a police officer to try to combat corruption, he gave up the profession due to corruptio, and as being Nightwing allows him to attack the corrupt he will be the hero to keep punch corrupt in their face (I really don't get why in hell he becomes a cop)

Jim Gordon hates him

Dick might get exhausted from all the work, vigilantism, his siblings, and Bruce's weekly batshit, and when that happens he just lays on the floor while Haley the dog plays around him (and sometimes one of his siblings join them, usually Cass or Damian)

"Richard what do you want for Christmas?" - Damian asked one time and Dick in full low maintenance mood "A break"

that Christmas Damian gave Dick a brick, apparently the boy confused the words and didn't understand why Dick started laughing when he received the gift, but Damian was very happy to know that his older brother loved the gift to the point of laughing until his belly hurt

and now every time Dick get exhausted he just sit with Haley the Dog and look at the brick and start laugh (yep, he keeps the brick)

Some batkid headcanon: Damian || Duke || Cassandra || Stephanie || Tim || Jason || Dick

#dick grayson #dc comics #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #batfamily #batfam headcanons #batfamily headcanons #idk if this is good enough i have so many thoughts about this boy i'll need more time and space

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pixiecaps · 29 days

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no bc im not usually involved w stuff like this and believe everyone should be held accountable for their actions no matter what. but seeing the way quackity has been seen as non human, any emotion or misstep he has being seen as manipulative or fake is like crazy. i don’t understand how people don’t see like wait, your actually just being racist you are not capable of seeing him as a person, why? it feels like he really could’ve handled this perfectly and there still would be this large crowd regarding him as a heartless fraud??

truly. i have closely observed this situation and listened to both sides and theres a lot of different opinions that can co exist and theres a lot of complexity to them.

one particular thing that has bothered me and made me uncomfortable is the projection of quackity as this scheming conniving figure. its gross. him having to explain that hes had previous experiences like this where he keeps any sort of bad situation with another creator private and that in turn has made him perceived as more manipulative is so sad. and this isnt surprising obviously since this is something ive witnessed. but overall i think with the internet nowadays theres a large mindset that everything needs to be public information and shared with the audience while they preach to solve things in the dms. people only care for a show and to watch creators destroy themselves. thats what twitter is and what a lot of people actively strive to do on that platform. specifically in regards to leak communities.

everyone should be aware enough that theyre allowed to criticize quackity and the decisions he’s made that people may not agree with. he acknowledges that himself. but to paint him as anything other then human and someone who has deeply fucked up reaches that level where it is racism. i dont think many people quite realize micro aggressions when they see them. so theres that. and then theres obviously the extremes of the situation when it came to the doxxing and death threats. people actively celebrating and saying it surely is an okay thing to spread because well he fucked up right? hypocrisy. this goes the same way for any admin or worker involved the situation that has been sent and told the same.

this entire situation has proved to me that nobody knows how to properly handle anything or how to properly react to anything and choosing instead to immediately jump to those extremes mentioned in the name of activism and moral superiority.

anyways support the admins. listen to their stories. criticize media you consume in a constructive manner. call out xenophobia and racism when you see it. and treat people like the humans they are. they will all make mistakes each side has made a mistake. yes this also applies to the people in the community. think for more than a second before you post anything for fucks sake.

#pix asks aaaa #anon #discourse

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ggomos-maribat · 8 months

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9 | in which nights are spent, kisses are missed, secrets are laid out

Part 9 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

"Hello? Damian?" Marinette tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder as she continued sorting out the files. "Listen, something came up at the office today and Mr. Wayne won't be able to meet you for dinner outside. Sorry, it was an emergency. He said he'll postpone, though! I'm marking his calendar right now."

"Hm. I'm on my way to the restaurant and I believe it's already reserved," said Damian. "Will you be occupied as well? Why not come in place of Father?"

Marinette paused, slowly registered what he had offered, and then smiled. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Really? Didn't you say for it to be a date, one has to harbor some sort of romantic feelings for the other?"

"Yes, I did say that."

Marinette couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. And her reddening cheeks. Kwamis, was that him trying to flirt? When did Damian learn how to flirt?

"Well, are you free?"

"Yes, I am in fact." Marinette practically burst into her boss' office and shoved the remaining documents into his hands. "At seven, right? I'll see you."

She packed all her things in a hurry and sped home on her motorcycle to get ready. Though Bruce would oppose this 'date' of theirs if he knew, she didn't want to miss the opportunity. I'm already off the clock anyway. Let's just hope Bruce won't come crashing our dinner.

***

"Thank you for accepting the invitation on short notice."

Marinette had to admit, Damian cleaned up well. Since the restaurant was on the fancy end, he wore a simple button down that complimented his eyes. Marinette herself had only changed into a red blouse but kept her office skirt.

"I would've been in bed with microwaved dinner and my laptop if you hadn't invited me anyway," Marinette beamed as she took a seat. "Still, I didn't expect you to actually invite me."

"I thought you needed a break from your work," said Damian. "The company seems very busy nowadays. And you're still taking your online courses, aren't you?"

Marinette could've melted on the spot. Damian was always the support behind her like that. At first there were only little gestures: updating her if any of his siblings might come to the office and cause trouble; telling off his father for making her do extra work; dropping off snacks for her when he visited. Soon they became comfortable with texting each other regularly.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "There will be a big event two weeks from now, so everyone's trying to meet deadlines."

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Yes, Damian."

"Eating enough?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I am, mom."

"Has Father been bothering you too much?"

"It's just the usual," she said. "Actually, I think he's careful not to give me more work because he knows I tend to overwork. You don't need to worry, okay?"

Damian lowered his gaze, staying still for a moment. "You're like Pennyworth," he told her. "People like you . . . you help out people like Father at the expense of your wellbeing. I've seen it take a toll on Alfred sometimes—he is still human after all. I thought you needed a break from all that."

He looked up at her. "If you're taking care of everyone, who's taking care of you?"

Marinette just stared. There were some tears prickling at the back of her eyes but she didn't dare let it take over. Damian had hit close to home without meaning to.

"Ah, you're right." She noticed that her voice was thick. Oh fuck, fuuuck the tears are spilling. "Sorry, I . . . sorry."

"Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, I . . ." She took a deep breath. "I just remembered something. Before, I used to do a lot of favors for a lot of people too. My parents, my friends, even acquaintances. Sometimes I never noticed how many things were already on my plate and so I end up so stressed out trying to please everyone."

To save Paris. To keep the city from crumbling under my watch.

"If you do feel stressed out, I'm here."

"What are you trying to say?"

"What I meant earlier. I . . ." Damian's expression contorted, as if he were looking for the right words. "I've been trying to sort out my feelings recently and I want you to know that I care a lot about you. More than in the sense of friendship."

He likes me back. He actually reciprocates. Marinette's heartbeat stuttered.

"But you know my contract, right?"

"Yes, that is why I won't ask you to—well—enter into a relationship with me. Your job is on the line after all."

Looking to her side, Marinette saw twin doors leading to a spacious balcony. She needed to talk with Damian properly, and it was best they had some privacy. She turned back to him. "Do you mind if we step out?"

Damian quietly told the waiter and ordered the chef's recommendation before leading her to the balcony. Marinette took the liberty of closing the doors and then turned to him. "I just want to get some things out of the way since you confessed to me."

"I know about you," she said in one breath.

"Know about what?"

Marinette subconsciously fidgeted with her hands. "I know. I know everything. Mr. Wayne is Batman, you're Robin, your siblings are the other vigilantes."

He fell dead silent, which worried her a little. Was it a bad idea to tell him that after all? Kwamis, I should've kept my mouth shut. Now he's going to look at me differently and take back his confession and tell his father and I'll be fired from my job and forced to live in the streets forever blacklisted by Gotham's vigilantes—

". . . I see," he finally uttered.

She twisted her fingers. "Are you upset?"

"I don't know . . ." Damian stepped forward. Closer to her. "I shouldn't have underestimated your intuition. I also shouldn't hold it against you since Father's identity is glaringly obvious at this point."

"I trust you, Marinette," he added softly while taking both of her hands in his. "If you know about me, about my family, but still return my feelings then I shouldn't complain. I was afraid I'd need to tell you myself and you will see me differently."

Her eyes widened. "What? No, that doesn't make a difference! I mean, uhm, it makes me understand why you always look tired in the morning or why you're concerned when I go out at night. I'd never think it makes you a bad person."

"What if I told you I've killed people before?"

She bit her lip. "Um, can I tell you another secret?"

He nodded.

"I know your mother."

Damian's eyebrows shot up. "My mother? You know . . . everything that I did?"

"Yes." Marinette drew out a slow slow breath. "Yeah I, uh, I know her and it may or may not be because of my time in Paris as a magical girl saving Paris from akuma attacks."

"Ladybug. That was you?"

"Basically."

"And mother was . . ."

"My teacher of sorts."

She let him take it all in but couldn't read his face. Is he too shocked? Amazed? Sad? Angry? Betrayed? Is he going to walk out of the restaurant?

"I wanted to tell you so you know fully what kind of person I am," she quickly supplied. "I don't like keeping secrets from people I'm close with after hiding one for so long."

"It . . . it all fits, I suppose," said Damian with a squeeze to her hands. "You're a hero."

"Former hero," she shrugged.

"You still are. It must've been hard to shoulder that responsibility."

"You have no idea." Marinette chuckled. " . . .So?"

He blinked. "So?"

"You still, er, like me?"

"Of course I do. Nothing will change." Closer. Closer. He pulled her gently closer to him. "What about you?"

"I like you a lot. I really do."

His lips look . . . inviting.

"But?"

"There's no 'but'." She shook her head. "That's it. I like you."

His head lowered down to hers, gaze flickering downwards. He was so close, close enough for her to feel his breath fanning on her skin. But at the last second, she pulled away.

"Sorry we can't." She looked up at him apologetically. "Not yet."

"Oh . . ."

Instead of a kiss on the lips, Marinette tiptoed to press one on his cheek. "It's okay. I'll get this to work out." She squeezed his hands. "Trust me."

bonus deleted scene: here

#this is the penultimate chapter :)#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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lucid-loves · 3 months

Text

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 4.7k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction.

Chapter Synopsis: After playing Makarov’s game, you finally have a chance to finish him once and for all. However, in doing so, you end up losing more than you expected.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Makarov waited patiently as you mentally prepared for your onslaught of lies and half-truths. Blending the two was easier to get away with the lies from a body language standpoint. Makarov was a sharp man. You had to be careful not to give anything away. No avoiding eye contact, no touching hair, nothing that can be a sign of deception. “I want to join your efforts as an assassin. My skill sets are advanced compared to many that you probably already know about. What makes me stand out is that you don’t know me.”

He quirked a brow at your confidence before waving his hand to call over the one he put in charge of his catacombs operation. Apparently, he wanted to test this. “Hand me her file.”

“We have no file to give. She isn’t found in any system. Not the US, not Europe, not anywhere.” The man confessed, feeling anxious over the possibility that this would be seen as incompetence. Luckily, Makarov believed him.

“That is impressive. An assassin that really knows how to keep a secret. Not many people know how to keep a secret nowadays. You seem to be good at keeping them and discovering them. Tell me, how did you discover this one?” He played along, his tone light as if this was all just a game to him.

It made your skin crawl, looking at such wasted potential. Such insanity. An intelligent man tainted by arrogance. His genius had turned into madness, and it unsettled you. You had to fight through your urge to end his life immediately. “I grew interested based on what I saw from the news. I decided that my best chance of getting an interview was by going through the back door instead of the front. Your men in Italy handling your weapons shipment led me right here. Patience and planning.”

“How did you know that you could tail them starting in Italy?” He inquired curiously, eager to learn where the breach in security was so he could fix it.

You shrugged, a shutter running through you that you disguised as nonchalance. “The U.S. government’s hold on classified information is difficult at best, but not impossible. I pulled a lot of information thanks to their incompetence. Fools shouldn’t be in charge of nations.”

“That I can agree with.” Makarov nodded with a sinister smile.

Before he continued, he called over one of his men again to fetch something to eat. “You haven’t given her food or water yet, have you? Right now, this is our guest. Not our prisoner. For now.”

The man nodded and swiftly went away like a servant serving a king. Afterwards, Makarov resumed. “You dislike the U.S. government?”

This was an easy one to get away with since it was actually the truth. You weren’t afraid to hold back on your opinion about this either. “I hate most governments. They always claim to be for the people and provide democracy, but the truth is, they have no idea what they are doing. They have no idea what the people want. Efforts to ‘keep peace’ are no more than just pissing contests for power. Someone more realistic needs to be in charge. Someone willing to make things happen despite the red tape.”

“You believe in direct action?”

“I believe in true progress, regardless of what some people may want.” You corrected, knowing how to twist your words into something Makarov would want to hear and trust.

Through your bobby pin, the 141 was hearing all of this go down. It took every ounce of their effort to not swoop in and get you out of there. They too could sense the madness oozing from Makarov with every word. How he questioned you, trying to figure you out. It was only your expert navigation through conversation that they were able to remain patient.

It didn’t take long for a sandwich to be placed on the table in front of you along with a bottle of water. You eyed the sandwich, stomach rumbling for food after skipping breakfast. However, you knew better than to just eat without caution. You picked apart your sandwich, observing each ingredient carefully with the low light of the lantern. Makarov chuckled. “Paranoid that I would poison you?”

“Only idiots take what’s in front of them without thought. It’s always worth the extra time to be cautious.” You truthfully explained as you sniffed the bread. Finally, you reassembled the meal and pushed it away, refusing to eat.

Half-hearted praise escaped your lips. “Clever trick hiding the poison in the bread. The almond smell blends in nicely with the rest of the nutty notes of the grains on the bread.”

Makarov grinned as you played his game quite well. His praise to you was genuine in contrast to yours. “Clever trick to use your nose too instead of just the eyes. You are the type to use all of your senses. A sign of a truly great assassin.”

The sandwich was whisked away, leaving you only with an unopened bottle of water. However, you opted to not take part in that either. Instead, you carried on with trying to impress one of the most dangerous men in the world. “You have assassins after you, Makarov. Though, they are pretty loud and proud about it. The 141.”

The 141 tensed up as you began to talk about them. This was one of the parts that they were dreading the most. Makarov already knew quite a bit of information about them including names and dates. However, it was your false insight that made them clench their fists. “Simon Riley, John Price, John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, and Kate Laswell have been hunting you down, but their efforts have failed each time.”

Makarov seemed impressed by your knowledge, choosing to encourage you to speak even more. “It has been amusing and annoying to have them come after me. You sound like you have a solution to this. Is this the part where you offer your services?”

You nodded confidently, finally feeling that you were getting somewhere with the man. “Exactly. I kill off the 141 for you and I get what I want out of it.”

“What is it that you want exactly?”

“I want you to pin the 141 assassination on Urizikstan. At the same time, I want you to kill Farah Karim, but the blame will be on the United States. Have the two countries point fingers at each other.” You elaborated your false story like a spider weaving their web.

Makarov laughed, not expecting such a proposal from you. He found the plan incredibly entertaining and beneficial to him. You fascinated him. “You want war?”

“Nothing resets a country’s priorities like a war. Nothing lets a country’s guard down for attack from other places too. The world needs a reset, starting with one of the biggest global superpowers. When that happens, more suitable leaders will step up.” You explained further, each word coming out of your mouth more exciting than the last to him.

He pictured the United States crumbling to dust from their own undoing. He wanted the 141 to choke on that dust. It seemed that you were one of the most capable people to make this happen. However, he was also cautious about taking things in front of him. First, he needed proof of your suggested loyalty to him.

He gave a bloodcurdling laugh, pulling a knife from his pocket to set on the table. It was brand new, clean. You made no attempt to reach for it, but you did look at its potential. It could be the knife you would stab him with when the time is right. Your fingers almost twitched with how much you wanted to plunge it into his neck. Instead, you left a compliment. “Beautiful knife.”

“A gift if you give me one in return.” Makarov offered, your blood running cold as your mind raced. What was this man thinking? This wasn’t a question exclusive to you either. The men you have come to know over the past few weeks were also racking their brains with what Makarov could mean.

Simon himself was about to go on a rampage. He knew that Makarov would want you. It took Kyle’s hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

Your stomach dropped as you looked at the knife. “House rules. Choose your gift.”

“Truly, a clever girl. You know how to play the game. My gift will be your right eye. Break in that new knife of yours.” Makarov demanded with ease, his men behind him raising their guns in case anything went wrong.

From your pin, you could hear Price shout. “Hex! Abort mission! Don’t you dare give him what he wants!”

“You don’t have to do this, Hex!” Soap yelled at the same time. Everyone was beginning to become loud and unsettled, the energy almost breaking yours.

Kyle couldn’t hold Ghost back anymore, his strength from anger and anxiety too much to contain. All Gaz could do was give a warning. “Captain, Ghost and I are on the move! Hex, you need to get the hell out of there!”

You stared at Makarov, trying to read any sign of a bluff. When you saw none, you sighed in disappointed acceptance. “It’s a good thing I have two of them. Do you have a mirror?”

“Y/n! Don’t you fucking dare!” Ghost threatened, using the name that he just discovered. Oh, how you wished you could hear it from his lips in a better circumstance.

Makarov accepted your request for a mirror, ordering one of his men to fetch anything that could allow you to see your final reflection. After a few minutes, a dull mirror was placed in front of you. Damn, you looked exhausted. However, no fear. If this was the price for saving the world from a madman, for a life outside the cabin, then it was a small price to pay.

Slowly, you picked up the knife, feeling the heavy weight in your hand. Makarov watched you carefully examine it, determining what would be the best angle to get the eye out without damaging it too much. Once you made that determination, you took a deep breath and rushed the blade towards your face.

Your hand stopped at the last second, the tip of the blade dangerously close to your iris. Makarov’s hand stopped yours, seeming to freeze time itself. He clicked his tongue in approval, now looking at you almost adoringly like an obedient pet. “What would an assassin be without both of her eyes? I approve of the dedication. You have earned yourself a job.”

Price and Soap nearly fucking collapsed in relief, their breaths labored from how long they help them. Ghost and Gaz felt the same, their warpath slowing as Makarov allowed you to keep your eye.

Finally, Makarov let go of your hand to allow you to put the blade down. Your heart hammered in your chest from the close call, your throat closing to prevent yourself from throwing up from the sick feeling. You passed the knife back to him. “You may have your gift back then. A gift exchange isn’t fair if only one is receiving.”

With pride, Makarov took it from your hand. “A fair play. What shall I call my new assassin?”

“Hex, we are in close position. Just say the word.” Gaz notified as he peaked around the corner, counting heads. For a massive weapons operation, there didn’t seem like many people here. Then again, the catacombs were huge and dark, no doubt hiding more that were lying in the shadows.

You waited a beat before getting up, walking around the table, and stretching out your hand for a business-like handshake. “Hex.”

“A curse.” He took your hand, his grip so firm that it almost hurt your fingers.

“Precisely. It will be a pleasure doing business with you.” You politely nodded and shook on it.

Finally, you had him in your grasp to execute. With a harsh snap and a pull, Makarov’s wrist broke with ease. You twisted him to face forward, his back pressed against your front which stopped the men from taking fire. They could never possibly hurt their king. You felt the knife you gave back to Makarov go into your side, just narrowly missing vital organs. Or so you believed. There was too much adrenaline running through you to feel the pain.

“Now!” You called out, signaling for Ghost and Gaz to rain bullets. Gunfire echoed down the corridors, the men closest to the chaos grunting before death. The men in front of you and Makarov struggled to figure out if they should wait for the perfect shot on you or trust that their king could overpower you. You didn’t give them anymore time to decide as you removed the knife plunged into you and threw it, killing one of the men on impact.

The remaining guard, now alone as his comrades fought and one fallen dead, had no choice but to remain frozen to wait for a good shot. Makarov just chuckled, a wince coming across his face as his broken wrist surged pain up his arm. “You are indeed quite the formidable opponent, Hex. But you have trapped yourself. How long can you hold me here until you bleed to death? Not long enough.”

“Please, I have plenty of time.” You smirked diabolically, kicking the table behind you. The mirror and lantern crashed to the floor, glass shattering and light flickering out. Nothing but darkness in the makeshift room.

Makarov felt you let go of him, a move that surprised him completely. For the first time in his life, he was taken aback. Almost scared. All because you have proven to him that you were just as smart as he was and could play his games.

In the pitch black, you dropped to the floor, picking up the broken piece of mirror. With a shard, you cut into Makarov’s Achilles tendons, causing him to howl in agony as he fell to the floor. While he was down, the same shard entered his neck, the warm blood already flowing out to coat everything in sight. The guard, in a panic, fired his gun. You felt one of the bullets graze your shoulder, but you couldn’t stop now. Rushing forward, you swiped the blade from the body of the guard you killed and ran it up into the remaining one. Slowly, his body became limp before falling to the ground.

Your skin was warm with the coating of fresh blood. The metallic smell filled your senses, a scent that you, unfortunately, missed. Perhaps early retirement wasn’t in the cards for you yet after all.

The sound of gurgling and gunfire seemed amplified within the dark, Makarov’s pathetic attempts to recover proving to be for naught. Once your eyes adjusted to the dark, you managed to see his outline on the ground. It was a fitting picture, seeing the man that killed thousands lying in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by skeletons residing in the hell under Paris. You came up to him, the knife still in your hand, blood flowing from your side. “On second thought, I think I’m gonna keep this gift.”

With those final words, you slashed his throat, more blood dripping to add to his puddle. Even in the dark, you could see the light drain from his eyes. Gurgles and bubbles fought for final breaths until it was too late. Always one to confirm your kills, you felt for a pulse. When there was none for a few minutes, you knew that the job was done.

“Makarov is KIA confirmed. If the reinforcement is ready for a sweep, send them down.” You announced, taking the bobby pin out of your hair and holding it as close as you could to your ear.

“Reinforcements going down now. Defend yourselves until the end. Good work out there, Hex.” Price confirmed, so proud of the fact that Makarov was finally dead that he could cry. The amount of turmoil he has caused made everyone want to celebrate immediately. However, the job wasn’t over yet. The rest of Makarov’s men had to be dealt their own justice.

Gaz and Ghost head the confirmation on their end, pride swelling in their hearts and giving them a whole new energy to fight with. As Gaz unleashed hell with his rifle, Ghost gave his own update. “Making our way through the operation at a good pace. We believe that some of the men are fleeing now.”

As you walked towards your exit, you suddenly became lightheaded. The sound of gunfire seemed slightly muffled and your body ran colder than before. On your next step, you collapsed to the floor. With just feeling alone, your hand swept against your side, feeling just how much blood you had lost when Makarov stabbed you. You gave a painful chuckle. “Good job, team. This was a good last job.”

“Last job?” Soap repeated, confusion in his voice clear.

“Hex, You need medical attention! We need to get her to a medic!” Ghost picked up the cryptic language quickly, a new fear taking over his body. Without thinking, we began running through the catacombs to try to find you. Gaz called for him to wait so he could provide cover fire, but there was no getting through to him now. Simon couldn’t hear anyone giving him orders through his earpiece. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own terrified heartbeat.

You knew he was coming to get you, though. The voices through your communication device relayed this to you. You had barely registered it, but you heard enough to know that Simon didn’t plan on letting you bleed out if he could help it. The only problem was that perhaps he couldn’t.

“Hex! Y/n!? Stay with me! I’m coming to find you!” He tried to keep you awake, intuition telling him that you were slowly slipping away. Price hopped on his monitor on his end again, trying to aid Ghost in getting to you. As soon as he figured out where your positions were, he began to provide directions.

A few minutes later, Ghost was picking you up in his arms. Your body felt cool to the touch and wet with blood. However, he didn’t mind it one bit. He just held you close and spoke to you to try to keep you awake. It didn’t take long for Gaz to catch up in order to guard the both of you all the way back to the surface. “If you got her, let’s go!”

You slipped in and out of consciousness, losing more blood by the second. The adrenaline that was preventing you from feeling the pain was slowly fading. Now that you could feel your body again, you could tell that Makarov got you pretty good when he stabbed you. Damn, it really fucking hurt. At least it was better than losing a whole eye.

“Stay with me. We’re almost there.” Simon softly reassured you, praying to the universe that you will make it out alive. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

When the bright sun flashed on your faces as soon as you emerged from underground, it hurt. A medical team was waiting right there, rushing over as soon as they saw just how coated in blood you were. There was no telling which blood was yours and which one was Makarov’s. They were going to provide you with the best help they could.

Simon almost didn’t want to let you out of his hold. He held onto you tightly until Gaz coaxed him into handing you over to the medical team. As he watched them lift you onto a gurney and into the ambulance, he noticed you looking at him. You looked at him like it was the last time you would ever see him again. It damn near completely broke his heart.

When the ambulance began to pull away, siren pressuring cars to get the hell out of the way, Simon became determined. He spoke to Price through his radio. “Captain, permission to go to the hospital and wait for Hex.”

“Permission granted. The medical staff are probably going to be confused about her identity. Probably have a lot of questions.” He granted, understanding that this wasn’t coming from a place of professionalism. This was a personal request, one that Ghost never made in all the time Price has known him. Besides, you deserve to have someone by your side when you wake up in the hospital.

You woke up feeling groggy as hell, your vision blurry and aching from the bright fluorescent lights above you. Your mouth tastes like salt, a sign that an IV was working its way through you. The right side of you dully ached, no doubt painkillers making the stitches more tolerable. A headache began to set in as you tried to sit up, a groan escaping your dry throat.

“Kitten.” Ghost called out to you, noticing that you were finally awake. He wanted to reach out to you, but you stopped him for a few instructions first. You couldn’t handle a bear hug right now.

“Dim the lights and get me some water first. Call the doctor too.” You spoke, voice strained as you went through your mental checklist of things you needed. Simon had no issues following your orders, figuring that you deserved to be spoiled, especially after what you went through for them.

Once the lights were dimmed down, your headache began to ease up. Simon opened up a water bottle for you and helped you drink. Hopefully you’ll get a meal soon too. Pretty soon after that, Simon brought back a doctor who beamed at you, her teeth matching the fluorescent lights that were on moments ago. She spoke English, but her French accent came through. “Hello! We didn’t expect you to wake up for much longer. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” You truthfully answered, earning a little giggle from the doctor.

“Normal then. That’s good. Do you remember what happened?”

Your brain strained to remember how you ended up in the hospital, your memories showing you nothing but darkness. Seeing the strain on your face, Simon took your hand and held it. Suddenly, the memories began to flow back. “We were on a mission that led us to the catacombs. I assassinated Makarov. He got me with a knife before then. A bullet grazed me too. I lost a lot of blood. Right?”

She gave a gentle smile and jotted down a few notes on a clipboard. Simon looked at you, proud that you could remember. It seemed like you were still sharp as a tack even after everything went down. “Perfect. You were brought to the hospital for medical attention. We managed to find out your blood type for a blood transfusion. Examined your organs and stitched you back up. You are a very lucky lady.”

“Thanks. When can I leave?” You inquired, already itching to get out of the uncomfortable hospital bed. Simon glared at you as you expressed your eagerness to leave. You needed to rest, damn it!

“We want to keep you for another night just to make sure you’re okay. But, if you really are in a rush to leave, we can settle for a few hours. Your body has proven to be pretty resilient. Though, we recommend having someone help you out at home for a little while. You would still need to take it easy.” The doctor recommended honestly.

That was something you could work with. Accepting the compromise, you nodded your head and sighed, hardly believing that you could even sigh in this life still. Everything was beginning to feel more surreal. It felt like you were really close to death this time. Maybe if Ghost hadn’t found you as quick as he did, you would be dead.

The doctor put the notes on her clipboard and left to gather the things you need in order to go home early. Simon scowled at you under his mask, hardly believing how you could still be so frustrating after almost dying. “You better not be thinking about doing shit once you get out.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not missing the lectures that you thought were over with. “Relax, Simon. I just don’t like hospitals, alright? I would rather be in a comfortable bed with access to a full bathroom. Is that so much to ask?”

He huffed at you before grumbling under his breath. “No. It’s not. Sorry. I just. . . thought I lost you for a moment.”

Your gaze softened, guilt invading your heart. You shouldn’t be picking fights like this again. Not this soon at least. Hell, you should be showing him gratitude for getting you to medics in time. He risked his life to save you. “I’m sorry, Simon. Thanks for waiting for me. I would like to be able to recover back at the hotel for a while before getting back on my feet again. I would feel more comfortable there.”

At that, he gave an understanding nod and brushed your hair out of your face. You missed his touch. “You got it, kitten. We’ll make it happen.”

Kate flew all the way to Paris to help you navigate the intense questions on your identity when it was time to be discharged. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw her in person, but seeing her again made you realize just how much you actually missed her. She missed you too from the way she hugged you tightly, careful not to cause pain. She owed you big time for this. Helping you avoid questioning was only the beginning of her efforts to pay you back.

When you and Simon arrived back at the hotel, Soap, Gaz, and Price were waiting to see you again. They had bought plenty of food and drinks along with cake to celebrate your quick return and finally putting an end to Makarov. While you were still a bit closed off from them, you did begin to reveal more tidbits of information about you. Some of your other assassin stories, a little bit about your interests, and cracking jokes here and there. It was most likely the painkillers that were helping you feel a little more loose than usual.

At the end of the day, the men went back to their rooms, the men being granted permission to have a little vacation for a while for the good work they’ve done. Simon, however, stayed with you in your room. He showed no signs of leaving either. “What do you think you’re doing? Shouldn’t you be going to bed?”

“I am going to go to bed. We’re sharing the bed.” He answered like you just asked the stupidest question he’s ever heard.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off. “Doctor’s orders. You need someone to help you around at all times. Someone to make sure that you take it easy. I’m that someone. Don’t even try to argue.”

You bit your cheek, holding back your stubborn protests that were threatening to spill out. With a deep breath, you tried to accept the fact that Ghost wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “How long do you plan on sticking around for?”

“Two weeks. Doctor’s orders.” Simon revealed, a smirk playing on his lips that was revealed once he took his mask off for the night. His handsome face almost had you fall over. You didn’t think you would get to see that face again.

You didn’t think you will be able to handle being pampered by him for the next two weeks as well.

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sofoulandfairaday · 9 months

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Actually very curious to hear your thoughts and head canons on Sirius + Walburga + Orion

Under the cut, because it's very long. But I'd love it if you read it all. I hope it succeeds in being eloquent, it's hard to put my thoughts into coherent writing for such a sensitive topic.

I don't think that the majority of this fandom actually understands the subtleties of abuse. Also, too many people weirdly like the idea of abused characters, and emphasize their torments, especially physical ones, as a way of... I don't know, evoking more sympathy for them? This happens all the time with Sirius Black.

@ sofoulandfairaday, was Sirius Black abused in your opinion?

Yes.

But not in the way people think.

I am fascinated with stories that explore generational trauma, the cycles of abuse that get repeated over and over. I think Sirius was abused in the way the Roy kids in Succession are abused, in the way that the people in The Crown are abused. It's not that the people in themselves are abusive it's that the family system is.

This doesn't excuse individual adult responsibility because, at a certain point, it becomes your duty not to pass on your traumas to your children. But traumatized adults raising traumatized children is something much more realistic, to me, than “The Blacks liked torturing their children for fun” (wtf?).

The Blacks were an upper-class family in the 1950s. To put this in perspective, my parents both got physically reprimanded as children (1970s), and my grandparents did too (1950s-1940s). It was just the way things were. It wouldn't have been seen as weird if they had been hit, at the time. Do you know when corporal punishment was abolished in UK schools? 1986. And people say Snape was abusive to his students. Bro, 1986. The world has changed a lot in the last 20/30 years but it's a little unfair, in my opinion, to judge their times entirely through our lenses.

And even in light of this... I don't think the Blacks were that physically violent. Maybe Orion clipped his sons behind the ear when they really misbehaved, or threatened physical punishment, but they most likely never truly hurt their kids. I also don't think they raised their hands like filthy Muggles, so maybe... Stinging Hexes? Going to bed without supper? They definitely did not use the fucking Cruciatus curse on their children. The torture curse. The one that scrambles people's brains if used for too long. Sometimes I think that authors don't put thought behind what they write, or exaggerate for the shock value, which... doesn't really sit right with me, to say the least. I don't really care for character bashing of any character. I don't care for painting Walburga & Orion as Disney villains who hurt their children because... they? like? hurting children?

With this being said, I'm pretty sure they were emotionally abusive, maybe psychologically abusive. Tons of families are like that, even nowadays.

Master always liked his little joke,” said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, “Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother’s heart — ” “My mother didn’t have a heart, Kreacher,” Sirius snapped. “She kept herself alive out of pure spite.” Kreacher bowed again and said, “Whatever Master says,” then muttered furiously, “Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother’s boots, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was — ”

According to Kreacher, Sirius broke his mother's heart when he left. That might have been a dramatic choice of words (Sirius definitely thinks it is because he replies in kind) but perhaps it wasn't.

The problem with the Blacks' love for their children isn't that it wasn't there, it's that it seems very conditional. I fully believe that for a time, when he was a kid, Sirius was a little prince, a perfect pureblood heir. Given his temperament, he might have been the bad child, always in detention compared to Regulus, who was probably quieter, more shy, more poised. Except. Despite all of this or maybe because of all of this, he was probably the more respected out of the two: more handsome, more charismatic, more outspoken, stronger, quicker. Someone like Bellatrix (and Walburga too, I think) must have respected him much more than his brother, even though they probably said the opposite out loud. Sure, they liked Regulus more, but everyone knew he wasn't the brightest out of the two stars. I think the Blacks respected and praised strength.

Want proof of this? Sirius himself calls Regulus soft and an idiot. How many times do you think he heard that sentence as a child?

For these reasons, it's always been my headcanon that the two brothers grew up resenting each other subtly: Sirius probably envied that his brother was their mama's favourite, the one who was shown more affection, despite being not as bright as him, not as good. But children are petty and have very strong senses of pride. In stressful environments they latch onto the identities they create for themselves: if Sirius painted himself, in the family dynamics, as the strong one, the one who doesn't care, the one who rejects even his parents' rare moments of affection, he will most likely never be the one to go to them to beg for their love, or kisses or whatever. On the other hand, Regulus was probably babied by their parents, but never truly treated like the heir, like the competent, brilliant one. His mother might have been more tender with him and yelled at him less, but children are perceptive.

Also, Grimmauld Place has all the characteristics of the Haunted Hause trope, horror film style (which I cannot get into here lest this becomes a dissertation), but generational trauma likely permeates those walls. Merely being back in the house is enough to trigger Sirius' depression.

Sirius is my pride, but Regulus is my joy sort of dynamic for the Blacks and their parents, me thinks.

They love each other but are also constantly pitted against each other. They fight for their parents' love. They think the other had it easier.

Then, Sirius is sorted into Gryffindor. Now, he's already fighting back against his parents now (he's almost 12, the perfect age), but it's always been a little headcanon of mine that Sirius doesn't know how much this will damage him until it happens. We see, again and again and again, in-universe, how much stress the Sorting put kids through - what if I'm not in this house my parents were sorted into? From the way he appears in Snape's memories on the Hogwarts Express, I think Sirius must have thought it hilarious if he was sorted into Gryffindor, the first Black ever to be one. Truly a most rebellious act. This lasted about... seven seconds?

The next day, Walburga sends a Howler and she's the most displeased Sirius has ever heard her, this is not a joke, Sirius, how dare you? You are such a disappointment etc.

Disappointment. The family disappointment.

This becomes Sirius' new persona. The more he leans into it, the more his mother doubles down. Headcanon n°2: they have the same personality, Walburga and Sirius; Regulus takes after Orion.

Golden-child/scapegoat dynamic ensues, worse than ever. This is the abuse I was referring to: no matter how brilliant, how high his grades, how good Sirius is, it'll never be enough. He's the foil to Regulus - less good in school, less brilliant, less popular, less... So. He fraternizes with Mudbloods and werewolves and dissenters of our Lord and Saviour Voldemort, which is a disgrace. He comes back from his first year saying Muggleborn instead of Mudblood, puts up semi-naked Muggle girl posters in his room with a permanent sticking charm - every time Walburga is in there her stomach flips in disgust. He buys himself a Muggle motorbike.

He can never bring himself to tell his parents that he wants their love and approval and they think he wants everything but. Not just that, they think he's actively trying to drive them to an early grave with all of that rebelling.

This, by the way, puts an enormous amount of stress on Regulus. Now he has to step up, wants to step up, to prove himself as finally better, but also he doesn't want to lose his older brother, but also he can never live up to the comparison, but also why do his parents love him now that Sirius is gone, why couldn't they love him better, sooner? This breeds resentment. Desperate to prove himself, he joins the Death Eaters (whose ideas he fully embraced anyway, let's not forget that Reggie was a racist little arse).

Why did Sirius run away?

This fandom makes the MISTAKE of thinking that Sirius ran away because his parents were evil and mean. No. Nu-uh. That's not what happened.

“But… why did you…?” “Leave?” Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. “Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal… my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them… that’s him.” Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name Regulus Black. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth. “He was younger than me,” said Sirius, “and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded.”

Sirius hated his parents and his brother, but he doesn't offer any indication that they were physically violent towards him - sure, they sound like dicks and they definitely created a situation of emotional abuse (why can't you be more like your brother?), which is still very scarring for a child/teenager, but no indication that they ever brutalized him.

I'm not saying this to argue that emotional or psychological abuse (lying, gaslighting, justifying treating your children horribly with oh, but I'm doing it for your own good, etc.) is less damaging than physical abuse. But I think that half the fandom just writes in a few rounds of Cruciatus to get out of writing the hard stuff - the complexities, subtleties, two-way pain of dysfunctional households.

When Sirius ran away from home, Orion and Walburga blasted him off the family tree. That means that he couldn't come back even if he tried to. He had no family any longer. Running away from home is something that a teenager in Sirius' situation and with his personality might conceivably do - and I'm sure it did hurt his family. But his betrayal was followed by their own betrayal.

Also, I want to contrast this with BELLATRIX and the way she speaks of Andromeda (because we all know that she's actually referring to Andromeda in that first quote):

“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn’t — ” (HBP) “She is no niece of ours, my Lord,” she cried over the outpouring of mirth. “We — Narcissa and I — have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries.” (DH)

and Walburga:

“- comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he’s back, they say he’s a murderer too -”

Bella, even after 25 years, still calls Andromeda her sister. Sure, Ted and Dora can rot - nay, she wants to actively kill them -, but Andy is her sister. Walburga declares that Sirius is no son of hers. She cut ties with him just as much as he cut ties with them. He lived with the Potters until Alphard died and miraculously left him gold; he didn't have a Galleon to his name otherwise. This is incredibly hurtful for a child. He was sixteen.

So. Anyways. This is getting rambly, but I hope I got my point across.

As for pure headcanons, that have no actual basis in the text:

All the Blacks are hot, but Orion & Burgie were not the hottest of them. That title goes to Alphard & Lucretia and then Sirius & Bellatrix in the next generation.

Orion is like Regulus in nature, and Walburga is like Sirius. Ice and Fire. On the other hand, physically, Sirius looks like his dad and Reggie looks like his mum. (Which is not to say much because they are second cousins, and the Black genes are strong lol)

(By the way, they are second cousins guys, not first cousins, not brother and sister!)

Orion wears exclusively shades of black and grey.

He's a quiet man, likes to read, despises noise.

A heavy drinker since he was young, it became a coping mechanism after Sirius' turbulent teenage years, almost drank himself to death when Regulus died. That's not what got him in the end, but it could have very well been.

Walburga always had a temper on her, could scream like a banshee, but she wasn't insane until one son abandoned her for the lowliest of scum and she lost her youngest boy and her husband in the span of six? three? months.

Austere. I can imagine her with her hair pinned up, high necklines... always very proper, with a severe type of beauty. I really like that aesthetic for her.

Crack: Definitely involved in the infamous Love Triangle of '43 when Tom Riddle tried to ask her out (to get access to the Black Family library's Dark Arts books) and she rejected him (not my headcanon btw, I remember reading it on here but I can't remember who came up with it rn - if anyone knows, I'll give credit!). Guess who was smitten with him? Alphard. Chaos of the kind you're thinking ensues.

Theirs was a semi-arranged marriage (there were wink-wink, nudge-nudges from other members of the family and the two of them decided it would be advantageous). I don't think they loved each other but they had a good partnership, gave the House of Black two heirs. (lol, see how that turned out)

Walburga had pregnancy issues, which I headcanon for every single woman of the House of Black, except the only one who was-maybe-sorta-kinda relying on them: Andromeda.

That's all, folks!

(I think.)

#sirius black #regulus black #walburga black #orion black #the noble and most ancient house of black #hp meta #hp headcanons #asks #answered

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bumblebeehug · 9 months

Text

Gave him her heart

Ship: Natsu Dragneel x Lucy Heartfilia Summary: Lucy worries about what to get Natsu for his birthday, not knowing how ridiculously easy it actually is. Day 5 of Nalu Week 2023 - prompt: gifts Ao3

***

Natsu was a good man. He was wild, fun, crazy, but most of all: good. Lucy was very aware of this and knew that such a good man truly deserved the best. So, naturally she felt slightly panicked when she realised his birthday was coming up.

Lucy liked to believe that she was good at giving gifts. She was observant, both on the battlefield and off, so she knew what people looked a little extra at when they browsed shops or went by markets. Wendy turned to sweets, cute dresses or jewellery, something Lucy was relieved over when she noticed it – Lucy was nothing if not good at picking clothes and accessories, and Wendy was transparent with her tastes (sweet = good, savoury = fine, if there was a good reason to why it was gifted, otherwise a little weird, and sour = danger zone. It could be risky, but citrusy tastes were appreciated in sweet desserts). Erza was also easy to please with gifts – either go the sword and armour route, or go the girly route, possibly with some suggestive books. Gray appreciated nice soaps and clean décor for his house, and if she wanted to be funny with him she could always gift him underwear, seeing as it was the only clothing that stayed on for a while (though since him and Juvia got together it wasn’t really an option – Juvia didn’t care too much about what Lucy gave him, underwear or not, but Lucy herself felt weird about it, so nowadays she kept to soaps). Carla liked tea and pretty dresses as well, but appreciated flowers and other handmade things, and Happy was never happier than on his birthday, when he practically could get buried in the number of fishes he’d be given.

Natsu, however? Lucy wasn’t too sure what she could give him. He liked loads of things – food, fights, adventures, funny hats, board games: few things were off the table with that guy. If she gave him a bouquet of flowers he’d probably smile and say thanks (and maybe he’d try to eat them once he got home), if she gave him tea, he’d probably set the leaves on fire and accidentally get high or something – she didn’t want to risk it either way. He’d be thankful for any clothes she would give him, but would most likely only wear them when he really had to, or to sleep if they were comfortable enough. He really liked his special made ones, that managed to stay intact no matter how hot his fire was. He would definitely try to eat the soaps, and that wasn’t worth it in her opinion, and if she gave him a fish he’d very likely think she was either giving Happy a gift through him, or that she was confessing her undying love for him, since that’s what it meant when Happy gave fishes as gifts to the opposite gender (of the same species, might be important to add).

Point is: giving Natsu gifts was hard when you knew him too well. She had even considered giving him jewellery that matched with the ones she had gotten from him recently, but it once again came down to him only wearing them as a chore, and her pride couldn’t really take that. She would have to put a pin in this challenge though, because she was expected at the guild to help cover a shift for Mira as she dealt with one of her requested missions.

As she entered the guild hall, she was relieved to see that it was rather empty. It had its perks, working at a bar in the middle of the day, and since she saw some of her closer mates, she knew she could take her chance to dig around and find out what others would be gifting him.

“Hi Master,” she greeted Makarov, still using the title he had tried to give over so many times already. Though technically he was still in charge, so Lucy thought it only appropriate to keep calling him master until he truly was off the position. “I’m covering for Mira this afternoon.”

“I heard,” he grumbled from his position in the wheelchair. “You’ve been behind the bar before, so you know the drill. In fact, could you bring me a plate of fried squid and a beer? Just put it on my tab.”

Lucy took his order and sent a note into the kitchen per his request. Normally Mira would help out in the kitchen as well, but since Lucy had limited experience with cooking the meals they were serving, she was excused to just manage the drinks and easier snacks, like nuts and chips. As she waited for the staff in the kitchen to finish the order, she poured a glass of beer for Makarov. Half with light alcohol, half with none. He was currently cutting down on his alcohol intake, Porlyusica’s demand, but to not make him fall back immediately from quitting cold turkey, they slowly made him drink lighter and lighter.

“So, Natsu’s birthday is coming up,” Lucy said, trying to cover it up as small talk, but realising it was obvious what she was trying to do.

“I’ve heard.” A smug grin graced Makarov’s face. The relations between the mages in his guild were always amusing, especially in the stage that Lucy’s and Natsu’s had been in the last couple of years.

“I’m a bit curious…” She gave him his order. “What do you think he wants? You’ve known him for longest.”

“Child, I’m too old to remember all my guild members’ gift preferences, and I’m definitely not rich enough to give away gifts like it’s nothing. For a long time now, I’ve allowed myself to forget who likes what.” Lucy smiled, ready to brush the topic off and take another order across the hall, but he continued. “I do, however, know that you could give him a stick or a pebble you found on the sidewalk, and that boy would treasure it like it’s his most sacred, most valuable item in his possession. Do what feels right, Lucy.”

She thanked him, but within she felt like she was back at square one. She knew he would be happy about getting any gift, but she didn’t want to give him just any gift. She wanted it to reflect how much she appreciated him and their friendship, and she wanted it to stick out. Maybe it could even suggest that she appreciated him more than a normal friend, but only if he started overthinking the gift (which she doubted he would do anyways). It was meant to be subtle, but not subtle enough for it to never be discovered by him. And if it needed to be discovered by him, whatever this little message it was she was trying to convey to him, then it would have to be flashing in neon lights above his bed when he woke up in the morning.

So, she spent a few hours continuing to ponder on what to do, as she was taking more and more orders as people kept dropping in. At around 6:30pm her true saviours arrived at the guild hall. Her team, plus a few other closer friends and minus Natsu and Happy, who were camping today and tomorrow, were back from one of their shorter missions, and they were probably starving for some dinner. Lucy was quick to come over and take their order, also grabbing her chance to question them about their thoughts on this conundrum.

“Hi guys, did the mission go well?” She greeted them, preparing her notepad.

“It went great!” Wendy beamed, and Lucy made a quick mental note to ask about the mission more in detail at a later date. She must have done a good job if she allowed herself to be this proud – Lucy always thought she was too harsh on herself when they fought on missions.

“Gray even kept his clothes on,” Erza added, praising the man on her right.

They took a quick moment to chat, and as they finally decided on what to eat, Lucy seized her moment.

“So,” she started, already knowing she would never live down asking a question like this, considering that many of the people at the table were quite transparent on their opinions on Lucy’s and Natsu’s relationship, “Natsu’s birthday, huh?”

The silence her sentence brought made her regret it immediately. She could already see how their brains were working on new ways to tease her for whatever she was going to say next, but she would have to swallow her pride once again. It’s for a good cause, she kept telling herself.

“Have you gotten your presents yet?” She chuckled awkwardly, hoping their answers would be enough to inspire her, so she could get their food and forget she ever brought it up in the first place.

“Mhm.”

“Yep.”

“I have too.”

“And I’m with Wendy on her gift,” Carla added, still making it painfully obvious that nobody was elaborating their answers. They were making Lucy work for it; she just knew it. They loved grabbing their chances to make her say embarrassing things, and today was no exception.

“Really…” She forced out a laugh. “So, what have you gotten him?” She tried again to prompt anyone at the table to speak up, but they knew she would have to continue pressing, and that it would sound more and more desperate the less information they gave her, so after they all stayed silent for another minute, Lucy gave in.

“I’ve just completely blanked out; I can’t even remember a single thing he likes! Please, help me! Give me some inspiration!”

Erza exchanged a glance with Wendy before she answered.

“Well, he likes fire.”

“And fighting.”

“And ugly tourist shirts,” Gray chimed in. Lucy groaned.

“I can’t exactly give him a clip card for sparring matches, and I’ve already considered a bonfire, but I wanted to have a get together later with all of us where we make a bonfire and drink hot chocolate and stuff.” She spared Gray a short glance as well. “And he only wears his special made clothes, so I can’t give him a shirt to frame for 200 jewel.”

“Then we can’t help you,” Erza said, flipping her bangs as she always does when she lies. Lucy pouted.

“I’ll get you your food, please help me afterwards?”

“Deal.”

After 30 minutes she finally had four hot plates balancing on her arms, ready to serve to her stubborn teammates. They were chatting along just fine now, so hopefully the would have forgotten their silent agreement to keep themselves clammed about their gifts. Lucy hurried to place out their food, hoping that they would notice her way of bribing them by giving them extra big portions.

“Now please...! What should I give him?” Lucy sat down at the table. She wasn’t going anywhere until she got an answer she was pleased with.

Wendy gave her an apologetic smile.

“Well… We can tell you what we think, but don’t you think he’d like it better if it truly came from you?” Erza nodded along.

“I’m going to give him a sword that’s enchanted with endless fire,” she revealed. “But you know, it’s not really a gift that screams ‘Lucy’.”

“Erza’s right. I’m giving him some scrap wood I found in the woods because I can’t really bother, but no gift we tell you to get will be as appreciated as the one you come up with,” Gray said, taking a sip from his beer.

“And we’re getting him a small cupon at a restaurant,” Wendy added.

Lucy sighed.

“I know it won’t be the same, but my creative well has completely dried up. Nothing I think of feels like enough. If I get him something I’d appreciate it would be like I don’t know him at all, and that doesn’t feel fair.” She started to feel hopeless. She didn’t like how drained she got from worrying about this – she loved Natsu! And she would love to properly show him how much she loved him, because he truly deserved that. Platonic or not.

“Hey, you look like you’re giving up, that’s not like you! Think of it like this, we’ve all combined our own interests with Natsu’s interest: Erza with the sword, Wendy and Carla with the food, and me with the scrap wood that shows that I have zero interest in him. Why don’t you write something to him? It may not look like it, but I think he know how to read. At least simple words.” Gray gave Lucy a half-hug from his seat in an attempt to comfort her.

“So… you think I should write him a letter? Would that be enough?” She felt sceptical, but it could work.

“You spitting on him would be enough,” Carla snorted, almost offended by her obliviousness.

“Carla!” Wendy burst out, not before Lucy raised an eyebrow in confusion. Her gut told her not to ask, and for once, she decided to actually follow that gut feeling.

“Do you really think a letter would be enough though?” She asked.

“How about you give him an experience? A friendly date of sorts,” Carla suggested.

“An experience?”

“Like going to the movies, or to a restaurant, or maybe picknick or stargazing?” It was Erza who spoke up this time, and Lucy thought she could see a sparkle in her eye. If she didn’t know better, she would almost think that Erza had been on dates like that herself.

“Hm… I guess you’re right. If he doesn’t like it, I’ll just have to ask him directly, I suppose.”

Lucy stood up from her seat at the table and bid farewell to her friends, along with her thanks. A letter would have to do, and she had a gut feeling that told her that she would figure out a good topic to write about. She hurried to end her shift so she could get to her gift-making. A good idea rarely stayed for long in one’s head.

When she finally sat at her desk, pen in her right hand and paper in front of her, she knew this was the right thing to do. What better way was there to tell Natsu how much she appreciated him, if not through words on paper? It was her speciality, after all. She had even lighted some candles to keep her company, since she knew she would sit there for a while. There was a lot of things she wanted to tell him and thank him for, and the letter would be the perfect way to convey these feelings. Right. Feelings. That could include her less platonic ones, and even if this was a great opportunity for that as well, she didn’t know if she was quite ready to go that far yet. In the meantime, she would just have to tell him she loved him in every way except the straightforward one.

Four hours and 16 pages later, she had her letter. It was ridiculously long, she knew that, and he probably wouldn’t be able to read it in one go, but her heart felt light. A letter was the perfect gift. She had even included multiple invites to ‘experiences’ she wanted to give him, and if he took as long to read it as she thought he would, then those experiences would be experienced with about one week in between them. Lucy gave the thick envelope a quick lick to seal it, and after that she couldn’t help but to give it a soft kiss. She had poured her heart out, and though it would be embarrassing for her to know that he would read such things, it also felt very right. It wasn’t a love letter, but in a way, it felt like it was. She had told him all the things she loved about him, all the moments she especially appreciated him being there, and how great her entire life was thanks to him. If read with the intent of reading a love letter, it could very well translate into one, and maybe, someday in the future, he could look back at it and see the hints she left him.

Lucy leaned back in her chair with a big yawn. It was well into midnight hours by now, and she really needed a refreshing shower. A thought went to how Natsu and Happy were having it right now, in a tent somewhere in the woods. Though she was happy to get to sleep in her soft bed, she was missing them. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. To speed time up she hurried to the bathroom so she could get into bed as soon as possible – her apartment wasn’t the same without those two.

Lucy cursed herself. Why, why, why had she written that letter? It was the most obvious love-confession anyone could ever read, how on earth had she not realised that when she read it through yesterday? She was dragging her feet behind her, because if the embarrassment wouldn’t kill her when he read it later, she would have to kill herself, and no one non-suicidal would ever look forward to something like that. So, her feet dragged. The letter felt heavy in her hands, and she knew that as soon as it would be opened, she would feel naked. Her gut was begging her to turn back, but her heart told her that celebrating Natsu today was more important than her pride. Him and Happy were coming back from their camping trip, and they promised her they would stop by the guild to say hi before heading home, and that’s when they would be surprised with a small celebration. Nothing like other events, where people went completely wild, but a celebration big enough to show him some appreciation.

Checking the clock one last time, she made sure that she was there before they arrived. They woke up pretty late generally and their favourite camping spot was about an hour into the woods. 10am. Maybe they hadn’t even woken up yet, but Lucy didn’t want to risk it. She wanted to prepare and decorate the guild, and then she would grab something to eat, considering she hadn’t eaten any breakfast yet.

As she entered the guild, she was relieved to only see her team and a handful more people. They were chatting and blowing up balloons, and they had turned one of the tables into a gift-table. Lucy hurried to put her letter amongst the others, eager to get the gift out of her hands.

“Good morning, Lucy!” Levy greeted her with a hug. “You’re pretty late, did you stay up last night?” Lucy chuckled lightly.

“Yeah, I had something important to finish.” She felt her team’s eyes in her back – they knew she had stayed up writing, and though Lucy knew she hadn’t written a love confession of any sort (other than platonic) she still managed to feel a blush creep onto her cheeks.

“So, do you need help with the balloons?” She offered, greeting the rest of the group.

“It’s fine, you go ahead and grab some breakfast instead,” Mira smiled.

“How did you know I haven’t eaten?” Lucy sat down at a table.

“You have a tendency to forget to eat when you have other things on your plate,” Mira just answered, placing down a yoghurt bowl with homemade granola and fruits. Lucy could only smile sheepishly, slightly embarrassed how obviously nervous she was about this event. She was sure Erza had told her about her moment of weakness yesterday, so she reminded herself to try to keep herself under the radar. She’d just be here, sing a happy birthday song, eat a piece of cake and watch Natsu open his presents, then the day would be over and the whole Lucy-confesses-her-feelings-though-a-letter thing would be over! No unnecessary teasing from her friends, if all went well.

“I’m back!”

The guild door shot open with a noise loud enough to give the untrained ear a heart attack. Lucy however had a trained ear, so she just turned her head and met Natsu’s happy gaze, her heart fluttering at the fact that his eyes immediately searched for her and no one else.

“Happy birthday!” The guild cheered. Lucy stood up from her place at the table, not really knowing why until Natsu stood in front of her, just an arm’s length away. If she reached, she would be able to bring him into a hug, and it truly itched in her arms to do exactly that.

“Hey,” Lucy smiled softly. “Happy birthday.” Watching Natsu’s smile go from surprised and generally happy, to soft and caring made Lucy lose what little control she had, and she caved into her needs to hug him. As soon as she felt him hug her back, she knew that whatever the others thought about the content of her letter contained, as long as Natsu read it and took it to heart, all would be fine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, tightening the hug for a second before he went ahead and thanked the rest of his friends, never straying far from Lucy.

The birthday party was overall a quite big success, everyone had a great time, and Natsu, who not so secretly had been itching to open the presents, finally gave in and announced what he was planning to do.

“Time to open the presents!” He cheered, almost jumping in place in excitement, clearly not representing the age he was turning (400-something years old) but making everyone smile regardless. Everyone except Lucy, whose heart flew up in her throat, suddenly getting the strongest urge to grab her letter before he got to it so she could throw it away or burn it. Not because she didn’t want him to read it – she would just prefer it if he read it somewhere more private, where the burning eyes of her much beloved friends could read it and jump to conclusions. So, she hurried close to whisper her plan to Natsu – despite him being the cause of these nerve-racking feelings, he was still her partner in crime, and she knew he would break his neck to achieve whatever she asked him to do. This time, what she asked him not to do.

“Psst!”

Natsu shot a glance to Lucy, who was whispering just quietly enough that no one else would notice, unless they had dragon ears and paid attention to her. Lucy, who saw that he had heard her, hurried to shoot her shot.

“My gift is the letter, I would kinda like it if you read it after the party instead? It’s just – it’s quite long and it won’t be any fun if you sat down and read it here, you know?”

The ball was in the air, and now she could at least sleep well knowing that no matter the outcome, she did try her best to steer the situation into best case scenario – all to her means of course.

Natsu, the king of pranks and someone who was surprisingly good at sneaking around, despite his usual love for the “let’s just barge in and fight anyone who tries to stop us” approach, still managed to keep up his gleeful demeanour as he had listened to Lucy’s request. He once again met her gaze and gave her a quick nod, ensuring that she had scored. The rest of the evening would manage to stay calm and uneventful. All thanks to their ways to keep down low. It was really convenient to have dragon hearing at times like these – though usually she had that thought on missions, and not happy, meant to be uneventful celebrations and parties.

The birthday boy himself didn’t mind opening Lucy’s gift later. In fact, he was just happy he was getting something at all from her, considering how stressful most birthdays could be for her. Sure, she already knew what genre people liked, but getting down to picking the actual thing and managing prices was a hard task for Lucy to tackle without stress. So instead, he went ahead and opened the elongated, wrapped gift that said “Happy birthday, from Erza” on the card. He would make sure to ease Lucy’s mind today, considering how stressed she clearly had been the last couple of weeks.

Natsu couldn’t stop grinning. He truly had the best friends ever, and despite him not being a big birthday celebrator when it came to himself, it felt good to be appreciated. There had been good songs playing, yummy food to eat, and most importantly: good company. He especially loved the presents he had gotten, since they clearly were gifts that his friends had carefully thought through and taken into consideration before giving them – yes, even Gray’s gift was appreciated, because though it seemed silly, he did sometimes need firewood after hard missions to speed up his recovery. Everything was dear to him, so when he finally got home with that thick letter in his hands, he couldn’t wait a second more to open it. This, you see, might be the dearest gift of all.

The softly written “To: Natsu Dragneel” on the front of the envelope made Natsu’s heart beat harder. He knew that the content in it probably wasn’t anything out of the ordinary stuff the two of them said to each other, but still. He liked that Lucy had put extra thought into whatever she had written. Or, at least he hoped she had, seeing as he didn’t actually know what the letter said yet.

Happy peaked over Natsu’s shoulder, closing the door behind the two.

“So, what are you waiting for? Open it!” Happy urged, eager to see what Lucy wanted to say to him, but clearly couldn’t since she had to write it down. In his opinion a speech would be quicker, knowing how slowly Natsu read.

Carefully Natsu parted the sealed wax from the paper, making sure not to tear anything. If he could make some space, he’d want to hang everything on his memory wall later, and in that case he didn’t want to ruin it.

Still standing just inside the door, Natsu began to read. The letter started out rather normal. She was writing the obligatory happy birthdays and saying hi to Happy, who she knew would read over Natsu’s shoulder despite it being a private message. That part piqued Natsu’s interest a little extra. What did she have to say to him that not only had to be written, but wasn’t meant for Happy to know? It sparked some hope in his heart that she possibly could feel something special about him – special-er than what they already had. He continued down the page. She started reminiscing about the past, and about halfway through the second page, Happy gave up on Natsu’s slow reading and told him he’d simply read it after Natsu was done with it. Natsu took a seat as he joined Lucy’s trip down memory lane, enjoying the new information on how she saw him when they first met, during their first missions and more. He especially liked learning that despite his foul mood the first days together, she still had fond memories of him, like when he included her in his list of friends when they fought Macao (before they knew it was him, since he had turned into a Vulcan) and how the reason she didn’t refuse to get along with him after he had seemingly deceived her for a mission, was because he had managed to get a few lucky words in. Something like “because we thought you seemed nice” had made her stick, and Natsu could only thank his past self for accidentally pressing the right buttons.

As he continued reading, he was struck by the wonderful realisation that he truly mattered to Lucy. It’s not like he didn’t know that she enjoyed his company, but seeing in in black and white was completely different. It wasn’t just that she had written something along the lines of “I care about you, your existence matters to me” (though that would have worked as well), but the fact that she could remember so many small details of what he had said and done, that she may as well have written a complete book with all those moments, and it would probably be at least 200 pages long. He knew she had been cutting down on what memories she brought up in the letter, because enough talks with one person made them show how much brain capacity they had, and Natsu knew that her brain capacity was way longer than a 16-page letter. This was her way of being concise. Yet she still managed to bring up moments he only vaguely remembered, sharing almost exact quotes of what was said and by who. Mostly the who was either Natsu or Lucy, but it was still impressive.

Natsu had never been interested in reading. It was a chore he had to go through to get the money he needed for food, had never been any more interesting than that. Except for two occasions: Lucy’s first published book, and this letter. Sure, he had been reading it for almost double as long as it probably took to write it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. This letter was so far the greatest thing he had ever received, which wasn’t an easy thing to manage.

At 4am had he gotten to the last line of the letter. His eyes were trying to force him to rest, but his mind fought it like never before. He had skipped dinner for this, and he was not planning to give up last minute, just to succumb to something so superficial, boring and unnecessary as sleep. No, he gathered up some extra will power and pulled though. “Though you probably understand this after reading this letter, I am simply eternally grateful for everything you are, and what you’ve just read is the best I could do at describing my gratefulness in words. Thank you for all you’ve done, and for being unapologetically you. No one else could make me as happy as you have, so once again: Happy birthday, Natsu Dragneel.” She had signed it with her signature at the very bottom, ensuring that all he had just read was completely and wholly from Lucy. After reading the whole thing, he felt his legs itch. No, maybe it was his arms. Feet, hands? No, it was most definitely his soul that had started to climb inside his body. He wanted to go to her, and he wanted to see her. Preferably five minutes ago. He threw another glance at the clock. 4:50am. He had been tossing around, unable to even do as much as close his eyes, for the last 40 minutes, and he knew he wouldn’t feel better until he was within a 20-meter radius of Lucy. Or rather, 2-meter radius.

Not bothering to sneak around the heavy sleeper that the exceed was, Natsu jumped out of the bed and pulled on his slippers. In less than 3 seconds he was out the door, and in another 3 he noticed that he was running. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do when he saw her, especially considering that she most likely was asleep in this hour, but he simply had to get to her, quickly. The time was ticking, like he was a bomb soon to explode, like he was going to run out of time if he didn’t arrive soon. Wind blowing in his ears, he could barely make out the sound of his heavy breathing. He hadn’t run this fast in Mavis knows how long, and he might actually had made it outside her apartment in record time. His chest rising and lowering in big breaths, he managed to make something of a sigh in relief to see her window slightly opened. Climbing the wall quietly was no challenge with Natsu’s experience, so he swiftly pulled himself up, making sure to fully open and enter the window as quickly as possible – though this time with less success since he didn’t have as much experience with that part. Usually he just barged in after scaling the wall, seeing as the time he did it at was most often a time where Lucy either was away or awake.

Either way, he didn’t manage to sneak in as stealthily as he’d like. The window creaked and his body almost fell limp after getting a whiff of Lucy’s calming scent – that he had been running like a maniac to get there didn’t help either, and after a loud, nongraceful landing, Lucy was already awake.

“Natsu? ‘s that you?” She mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Yeah, sorry for waking you,” he whispered, finding his balance on his legs again as he stood up.

“No worries.” Lucy had now swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat in a more upright position. “Did you need anything? Is Happy alright?”

“Yeah, he’s at home sleeping. I just felt like coming here,” Natsu said, full transparency.

“Alright,” Lucy said, now taking a better look at his face. He looked red and flustered, but with his heavy breathing it might just be the fact that he ran to her place.

“I read it.”

Lucy’s face started getting hot as well.

“The letter?”

“The entire thing.”

“Wow. Uh, so what do you think of it?” Had the hour been normal she might not have asked him such a bold question, but something about the way the streetlights and moon illuminating the room made her feel brave. Perhaps she still thought she was dreaming, but this felt much too real to be just a dream.

“It’s perfect.” Natsu took a few steps closer. He could now make out most of her facial features, sleepy yet alert of his presence.

“I’m glad.”

A few more seconds went by, though it felt like minutes.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“All of it. All the things you wrote?”

A soft smile graced Lucy’s lips.

“Of course. I would never lie about those things.”

Natsu knew he could be dense in most situations. He couldn’t always read the room, and he wasn’t good at subtext. This time however, he had felt something the whole time as he read that letter. Maybe it was what other would call “reading between the lines” but he suddenly had great confidence in something that could change their relationship forever. Of course, it was a very long shot, but perhaps the adrenaline from all that running was just what he needed to gather the courage to take it. He did, however, decide to test out the water first. Running headfirst was usually his go-to method if he could choose, but he wasn’t blind to the delicacy of the situation he was putting himself in.

“Can I assume things?” He tried.

“Assume things? From what I wrote?” Lucy asked, curious where he was leading this conversation. She was very aware of her heartbeat, but she didn’t know that she didn’t have to be this time, considering that all that Natsu was hearing was his own.

“Yeah.”

“It depends. What do you want to assume?”

Natsu swallowed. Did he always have this much saliva? If so, maybe something was wrong with him. He swallowed again, clenching and unclenching his fists. Had he ever been this nervous in a situation as calm as this? No bandits, no monsters, no big wild animals – not even an annoyed Erza was around.

“That…” he started, his tongue thickening as he spoke. Not literally, but it sure felt like it. He could barely concentrate on what he wanted to say, gazing into those doe eyes. She was so, ridiculously pretty. He knew that before, of course, but he almost found it unfair. How could he think of any words when she sat there, looking all nice and pretty. “That you like me?”

He had said it as a question, though it sounded more like a statement right now. Lucy’s heart must have skipped a beat or two. She was still sleepy, but the tiny possibility that this wasn’t just a perfect dream made her stop herself from straight up answering yes.

“Well… I hoped my letter was clear on that. You’re my best friend in the whole world, how could I not like you?” She let out a small chuckle at the very idea of disliking a friend. She didn’t, however, predict what he would say next.

Natsu reached out his left hand, touching a piece of her hair that had fallen out from behind her ears.

“But can I assume…” He put it behind her ear, “that you like me more than a friend?”

Natsu’s eyes were darker than usual in the dimmed light, but Lucy saw clearly that he was being serious. Though, this exact facial expression was one she had never seen before. She had seen his tender look, his soft look, his happy look, his loving look, but she had never seen this combination of all. And it was her he was showing it to. In fact, maybe it was exactly this expression that made her admit the truth for once. For so long she had been scared that he would feel bothered or surprised by the very idea of “liking beyond friendship”, or love, as she would prefer to call it. She had been afraid that he would find her fantasies of the two of them living their life together as a couple weird, or even mildly repulsive. That her confession would lead to their friendship breaking apart forever. That, however, could no longer be the case. Lucy wasn’t blind, and she certainly wasn’t dumb. If Natsu looked this… happy? To even assume that she likes him beyond friendship, then the outcome from telling him the truth couldn’t possibly be bad. She tilted her head lightly towards his hand, sharing another smile.

“Yeah. I do like you more than a friend, or a best friend.” Natsu took another step closer, now close enough to make her feel his hot breath on her face that he had tilted upwards, towards him.

“Then…” He bended down slowly to come closer to her sitting position. “Can I kiss you?” His words didn’t come out louder than a breath, but Lucy knew what she heard. Her heart had never danced as wildly as it did when she nodded and closed her eyes as Natsu closed the space between them.

The kiss itself was probably nothing special to someone watching. It was plain and soft, just two mouths pressing against each other. For them, however, it was nothing short of magical fireworks. Lucy’s cool, soft lips against Natsu’s hot, slightly rougher ones sent shivers throughout both of them, as if the small touch had opened a completely new door, a way for them to connect and become closer than ever.

Inexperienced as they both were though, they soon had to break it off to breathe. After less than 20 seconds, Lucy pulled their faces together again. How could they have been missing out on this awesome experience for all the years they had known each other? Natsu knew that this already had topped the list of his favourite activities – even placing higher than eating and fighting. The next time they went up for air, they couldn’t stop themselves from giggling.

“Can this count as a birthday gift if I haven’t slept since yesterday?” Natsu asked, more energetic than reasonable after his long day.

“If that makes you happy,” Lucy smiled, giving him another peck on his lips. Whatever they decided to do from this point on, Lucy knew they would figure it out. After all, if they had managed to overcome the obstacle of going from friends to whatever this was, then they could definitely manage anything and everything else thrown at them. What’s important was that they from this point out, took on every challenge together.

#fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #fairy tail nalu #fairy tail fanfic #nalu fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #nalu fanfiction #natsu x lucy #bumblebeehug writes #yay i'm posting my fics on tumblr #thanks to mya's advice :)

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buckyarchives · 1 year

Text

Domestic Life Of a Living With a Runaway Assassin. [Intro.]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

Summary: you hate many things in life. you hate soulmates. you hate the avengers. you hate guns. you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can't find yourself hating him

W.c: 2.1K

Series playlist linked here

Author note: this was actually one of my first long form fics I wrote in many years, its carrys a nostalgic feeling and means a lot to me. i wrote it like last October and thought abt kinda rewriting some stuff and posting it here! I thought some of you guys woudk enjoy this story. this is only a short darbble that teases the story, next chapter shows how they met and everything after that. It takes place right after CA:TWS and it’s a soulmate AU!

Masterlist

Soulmates.

The legend goes that when the universe was created and whatever higher power you believed in created humans to have two sets of legs, two sets of arms, and two heads. Now because the world is cruel and no one can have nice things, whoever is in charge up there split us up into two beings but forever being connected by our souls. Spending the rest of our life waiting and searching for our other halves. Never being our true whole selves without them. How poetically tragic.

It turned into a weird way to make money nowadays, you felt like no one really cared about the reality of soulmates now. It was made into shitty romance movies, or stupid scientific searches for your one and only soulmate that was definitely an internet scam. People literally faking soul marks towards celebrities for their one chance with them that their delusional minds make up.

All just a desperate attempt to feel whole and loved but your one and true person. Always and forever destined to be.

What a touching story. Too bad you think it's all bullshit

No genuinely, you were supposed to believe your life's purpose was to find this one person in the entire universe that matched you, and without them, you what? you were going to be miserable for the rest of your life? The universe is a scam. You had given up on the whole mad search for your other half years ago, you didn't understand why you couldn't go out and find your own partner without having to match up those stupid words on your shoulder.

“I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

Those stupid words. You hated the idea of soulmates but you couldn't stop yourself from the hours of wondering just what the hell that was supposed to mean. You had no interest in seeking out your soulmate but you could wonder what type of person they may be. Were they really a dangerous person? Would you genuinely not feel safe with the said person when you first meet? Would you even meet them?

Questions had swirled through your head since the day you got it. Those questions had died down a little, you were getting older and most of your peers had already met their soulmates. You noticed soulmates were not just romantic, they came in friendships, some didn't work out, some came between children and parents, and some came through your fire escape at night, covered in blood and knocking down your favorite plants.

With a loud crash, your feet carried you through your new york apartment to your living room. You saw the outline of him crouched down on the floor. “I'm so sorry, I know that was your favorite plant.”

Okay, spoiler. You had found your soulmate. You weren't excited about it as the rest of the world expected, but it happened. You weren't some hypocrite that would suddenly abandoned all beliefs and fell head over heels for your soulmate once you met like one of those stupid romance movies you mention earlier, you were not some cliche. Especially not with a poor excuse of a runaway-brainwashed-assassin soulmate, at least you would try convincing yourself that.

“My god Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you to just go through the door.” you pinch the bridge of your nose as the tired old man scrambles to clean up the dirt and scattered pot beneath him. “I mean, you practically live here now.”

“I'm not using the door, someone could see me.”

You think Like that's better than having someone see you climb through the fire escape, asshole. You scoff and shake your head and begin dragging yourself to the kitchen. You had a slight quirk at the end of your lips, an amused smile, you hoped Bucky didn’t see in the dark. Maybe he did, you didn’t really have enough time to ask him the deets on the effects of the serum.

You swing open the cabinet door and grab a trash bag and first aid kit. God only knows how bent out of shape bucky is tonight. Making your way back into your living room, Buckys still muttering under his breath about your stupid plant and “god dammit it's fucking freezing out there.”

throwing the trash back at him, he looks up at you. His eyes are beautiful. His hair is sopping wet and you were hoping to any god above that he wasn't bleeding out on your floor. You were not losing your security deposit for your reckless runaway assassin soulmate. God, that's a mouthful, you need to give him a new nickname.

“So, what's the damage?”

“s’ nothing, I'm just cold. It started raining hard.” he looks like a wet shaking dog. Your heart aches.

You look him up and down. Noticing the water dripping from all his clothing. “I see that.”

You sigh and take a few steps toward him. Bucky eyes follow your moments precisely. He has a bit of a staring problem. You snag the hair tie off your wrist and swiftly tie his brunette wet mop of a head into a little man bun. Cute. you shake your head.

“Stay, I'll be right back.”

Bucky watches you in awe as your body ascends back into the darkness of the room and around a corner. He's uncomfortable and his socks are wet. The leather vest is wet and he feels like he's trapped in his own skin, and Bucky feels too heavy.

Slowly, he begins to unstrap all weapons on his body and toss them to the side so you don't have to see them. You didn't like guns. He had a designated place where he hides them because god-forbid Bucky messes up your apartment aesthetic with his dozen of unsettling and quite scary weapons. Your words, not his.

Unzipping the leather top and peeling the fabric off himself was less than a nice feeling, it made him cringe and sent a quick shiver down his spine. Bucky tossed it to the side, he’ll deal with that tomorrow. His hands feel the thin black shirt that's left, it's wet too. Fucking hell. He doesn’t remember the New York weather being this bad in September, he also barely remembers anything so his memory isn’t too reliable. Bucky slowly peels the fabric over his head, he hopes he doesn't mess up the bun you did, he never did it right.

Bucky hears your feet pad against your floor. He pushes back a smile. You're holding a towel and some clothes. He watches you as you crouch down next to him on the floor, he notices that your eyes are squinted and your bed head is apparent. A twinge of guilt hits him now knowing he had woken you up. Bucky whispers, “I woke you up.”

You sigh, again. “I was having a bad dream anyways.”

“About?”

You inhale, scoffing to yourself. “I was being chased by Jimmy Fallon with a jar of pickles – because you know, I hate pickles – and he was yelling at me about the importance of eating vegetables, but he sounded just like my mom.”

Bucky didn’t remember who Jimmy Fallon was, “you must think you’re so amusing, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky curls his toes and is unfortunately reminded of his very wet socks. He leans forward to untie his hefty boots. Your eyes trail along his naked back, his muscles flex and suddenly you are just a little more awake. You watch his left arm in all its glory, taking note of the ragged and scarred tissues where metal meets skin. Scratch marks are littered around the edges, and you feel sad for him, imagining how those got there. The moonlight highlights his metal arm, making it shine and look quite beautiful. You could never tell Bucky that.

“It's been a week.” you finally breathe out. Bucky freezes in place as his fingers wrap around his laces. He feels guilty again. “And you didn't leave a note this time either. I thought...”

Trailing off, you stop yourself before you say something you were going to regret. Your mind wanders, you felt so incredibly stupid right now. Truth is, you didn't agree with the whole soulmate ordeal but it seemed like ever since your unconventional first meeting with Bucky, he has stuck to you like glue. He just kept coming back and then leaving again.

It took you many of his overnight stays and weirdly domestic mornings making scrambled eggs together and then turning into a worry machine after he leaves. You realized had grown to care for him deeply. Bucky always came back, but you were scared for the day we might not.

Bucky is– literally, a lost puppy. He had been on the run and actively avoiding the few stray agents that knew he was still alive when he met you.

Bucky remembered back when he was a kid, dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate. He and Steve would stay up all night talking about their soul marks, or just words (as they used to call it), and what they thought their soulmates would be like. Bucky was obsessed and simply put, a hopeless romantic.

Then Steve met his soulmate, Peggy. And then he technically died and Hydra happened, Bucky thought his soulmate would have been dead because he was out of his time now. After being brainwashed and having been broken and put back together by Hydra, Bucky could still never shake the feeling of you still being out there, it was like some instinctive feeling in his bones, he had hope and it was one of the only things keeping him going.

And he was right.

Bucky had many doubts when he first met you, given his situation. But you were not scared. And that was enough for him at the time.

But now he just feels guilty for giving you the burden of being his soulmate. He was trying, really.

“I'm sorry, doll.” his voice didn't sound like his own, he shrugged the rest of his boot off and followed with his socks. Finally. “I should have left a note. I'm safe, you're safe, and I'm here now.”

Bucky heard you sniffled and you turned your head with an embarrassment look and glossy eyes. Like you were ashamed for caring.

“sweetheart...” he scooted closer, hoping you wouldn't mind his damp skin on yours. Bucky reached for you, wrapping his flesh hand around yours and giving you a small squeeze. Your head turned to him, a small smile hidden on your face by the darkness of the room. He saw it. Bucky might even think you're an angel. “I won't leave without saying something next time, I'm sorry.”

“Do I even want to know what you were doing out there?”

He hated lying to you but his life was complicated. “Just trying to fix some things I did.”

You nod. “Good.”

The silence between the two of you isn't uncomfortable, the past few months have been silent– at least with bucky. He is your soulmate. He is also the winter soldier, and the winter soldier is always moving and hiding. Bucky Barnes is always moving, always. He had been that way even way back in the Howling Commandos.

You were his safe haven. Your relationship was on and off but your bond was strong, it was wordless and tentative and strung together by patching wounds at midnight and soft, domestic glances over coffee. Your house– just you were his place where he could just stop, pretend as if nothing mattered and sit on the couch and watch reality television that you loved. Bucky found it questionable but you said “it will help you get with the times.” Bucky just watched it because he knew it made you happy.

Bucky Barnes had been moving all week, fast. He had almost died, twice. He was never going to let you know that though. Bucky was due for some Hell's Kitchen or dance moms. He was also not going to tell you that.

The moonlight was fading and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside, barely silenced by the bustling city life of people leaving for work. You are still sitting next to Bucky, and you nudge him with your elbow. His attention is now drawn to you. You bite your bottom lip, a horrible habit you had, bucky hated it. Bucky brings his thumb up to your face and pulls your lip away from your teeth. He wants to kiss you.

“Go take a shower, you stink.” That works too. He smiles and you laugh. Yeah, Bucky thinks he can stop for just a little longer this time.

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