#but listen sometimes you need to take your dad issues out on innocent characters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

e-jaegerenthusiast · 3 years

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U&I; bully!megumi

warnings/tw; smut, orgasm denial, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming, slight degrading, overstimulation, squirting, slapping, creampie, stomach bulge, slight blood, fluff towards the end (sheesh that’s a lot💀)

(all characters are of age)

bully characters event w/ @angedelouvre <3

summary; you always tried to understand him, what you didn’t know was that he was obsessed with you, not knowing how to show his love.

w.c; 5.0k

(based on the song U&I by the neighbourhood)

there were many occasions where people would call you naive. your small group of friends, your parents, even strangers of all sorts. they called you naive because they knew you had a choice.

they knew you could just report him to your teachers, school council or, principal even. they knew you were holding back. many times you felt shame, embarrassment, sheer humiliation. the venom in his voice would tug at your heartstrings and threaten to poison you. but you knew you were already poisened.

you asked yourself the reason to being quite. especially the times when he would hurt your feelings to the point you would think of reporting him. it would be a thought shimmering around your head, circling until you felt dizzy to the brim, tears threatening to spill. but you wouldn’t cry. you knew you were stronger than that, you knew you could handle it. you had enough practice thanks to your family anyway.

your problem was that, you were too understanding.

too empathic. your heart felt bad for the boy. you had done your research on him. knew that his mother was dead. knew that she probably died due to the not-so obvious criminal acts of his dad.

his dad was threatening. you only saw him once or twice at school, on rare occasions it was that he would drop his son off with his black heavy-duty ram. as if he couldn’t get any more intimidating, he had a scar across his lips, frown on his face, bored look in his eyes, thick muscles and veins gripping the steering wheel.

your eyes would dart to megumi, as he would get out the car, closing the door with force you knew wasn’t needed. the noise echoing through your ears as his dad would reciprocate with the sound of the heavy engine speeding off. your lips would form a thin line, thinking if that’s the tension between them without any words, what hell was it at home?

would they scream and shout at eachother? break things? would his introvert and brooding sister get caught up between the two hot-headed men? would they not even talk? as deadly silence fills the whole house?

you would be brought out of your thoughts and snapped back to reality as fushiguro would walk past you, light scoff leaving his velvet lips. looking at you with a frown as if you were below him. as if you were ought to be ashamed for staring at him. as if you didn’t have permission to. the threatening look in his dark blue eyes would raise the beats of your heart, yet you wouldn’t look away. you knew you would pay for it later anyway.

you would watch as he walked away, your eyes darting to his hair. noticing how it wasn’t styled and spiky today as it is normally. his hair was almost messy, as if he wasn’t bothered to do anything with it. a few strands covered his forhead, making him look almost.. soft. you internally laughed at yourself for ever associating that word with the boy.

you would zone out all day in your classes, thinking of all the possibilities. thinking of what life fushiguro had to live at home. trying to understand why he would act the way he did. why he felt the need to bully you, no. you hated that word. you hated what it implied. you would like to believe he would only pick on you. maybe you were in denial. that’s what everybody would tell you. even your brain, telling you that you like to be his punching bag.

so what if he had issues at home? so what if he had self-issues and most definitely daddy issues? that would be no reason to hurt you. a girl. no, that would be no reason to hurt anyone. that’s what the rational parts of your brain would tell you. the other parts, the more naive and dumb parts, would tell you you want to help him somehow. even if he got some sort of relief by hurting you. you would want to help him.

you didn’t know why you would sacrifice your mental and emotional well being for a boy like him. but something pulled you in. he was like a damn magnet. a negative one. and you were the positive. that’s all you would think about sitting in physics class. but the negative and positive should attract eachother. then why were you the only would attracted? were you?

your thoughts were interrupted by the ringing sound of the bell, everyone picking up their backpacks and leaving. you would always be last to leave the classroom, sometimes staring too hard out the window, getting lost in your thoughts. there was something peaceful about an empty classroom, a place that was always constantly filled with noise and people, now quite.

you sighed as you picked up your bag and slowly started making your way out the classroom, you had a free period now, which you would usually go and have lunch with your friends in. however today you were feeling nauseous, not really in the mood to chew or even swallow anything.

as you opened the class door, making your way to the empty halls, you felt a strong pair of hands grab on to your shoulders, making you flinch. they pushed you back into the classroom in a flash, you were now pushed up against the classroom wall, door closing shut by itself. as you tried to calm your breathing and opened your eyes, you saw the familiar dark blue ones staring down at you with a glint of madness swimming in them. you wish you could swim in them.

your heart started beating faster. how did he know you took this class? you looked down at his hands on your upper arms, hissing as you looked up at him with your eyebrows furrowed, as if you wanted to tell him it hurt with your eyes. not wanting to talk. he slightly loosened his grip on your arms. but still keeping his big hands on you. as if to remind you, to make you aware of his intimidating presence.

he spoke through his teeth, with the same venom in his voice as always, “what the fuck were you doing watching me this morning?” he searched your eyes for an answer, yet the only thing he saw was his own so called hate in them.

you batted your eyelashes slowly, “I- huh?”

his grip tightened again in a mere second, pushing you into the wall as you winced, your back hitting against the hard wall. “don’t fucking bullshit me, l/n. you come to school from the other side, what the fuck were you doing on the east side where I get off?”

you closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing. not wanting to break beneath his firm touch and voice. you spoke in a low voice as you looked down, “..I was— waiting for a friend that gets off there.”

you felt both his hands let go of you, dropping by his sides. you felt his fingers on your chin, making you flinch visibly, his brows furrowing at you as he made you look up to his eyes.

your eyes darted all around his face, his cheeks looked so soft, his lips pressed together as his face was dangerously close to yours. you finally looked up to his eyes, they were as if searching for something within yours, you bit on your lower lip, his hand left your chin. muttering “liar.” before he swiftly got out, leaving you a mental mess in the empty classroom.

•••••••••••••••••••••

the day passed quite slowly, it seemed like every hour was adding a new weight on your head. you picked up your bag and left your last class, gaze on the floor as you thought about a certain raven-headed asshole.

you weren’t feeling like going home, you’d usually go home after the sun sets, listening to music and biking around. your parents could care less anyway, busy with their own bickering. you walked to the school parking lot, trying to get to your bike.

a tall figure caught your attention as he was leaning against a tree, the shadow of the big willow covering his face. your eyes darted to the willow tree, the cool breeze making the leaves swish from side to side. willows, hope. belonging. safety.

you walked towards the tree, the bike stands being right next to it. you glanced at the boy again, almost gasping as your eyes locked with the same blue ones from earlier today. he walked towards you, hint of a smirk on his face. you swiftly tried to untie your bike and leave. not wanting any more conflict, you thought you couldn’t take it.

he grabbed on to your arm with a tight grip, your eyes shooting daggers at him, “let me go.” for once, venom filled your voice. he gave you the most shit-eating grin, “I wanna talk to you, bunny.” you tolled your eyes at the unfamiliar nickname.

you felt rather bold today, the blood in your veins rushing to your ears as you raised your voice, “let me fucking go. go and release your daddy issues somewhere else, fushiguro.”

he raise his brows, “the sweet innocent girl is swearing at me? insulting me? you seem to forget who you’re talking to, sweetie.” his grip on your arm tightened as he pulled you away from your bike before you could undo the restrains. he started pulling you towards the parking lot.

your legs walking for you at this point, you dumbfoundedly followed him as he kept tugging on your arm. almost throwing you when he let go, his voice filled with anger, “get in.” he said as he got into a black hellcat charger parked in the parking lot.

you stood there, the rational part of your brain practically yelling at you to not get in a car with your bully. but your legs were already walking for you before you could listen to your own warnings.

the smell of cedarwood and musk hit your nose as you sat down in the leather seats next to him. looking out the window, you huffed. crossing your arms as the car started with a roar, “where are we going?”

he glanced at you from the side of his eyes, “shut your smart little mouth.” this time, his voice wasn’t filled with the usual venom, it had a hint of..playfulness?

you dropped your hands in your lap and fidgeted with them, tapping one of your legs against the floor of the car slowly as he pulled out of the parking lot snd onto the street. that didn’t go unnoticed by fushiguro, his eyes darting to your fingers and your bumping leg, piecing together that you were indeed nervous.

he spoke in a low, menacing voice, “I’m not gonna kill you, don’t worry.” you looked at him with this, letting out a dry chuckle, “oh! like that makes it sound less-creepy!”

he didn’t say anything as he smirked and sped up. the car hit a speed bump, his arm shot to you, holding it infront of your form as to shield you like a seatbelt, his bicep pressing into your chest. he removed his arm after a few seconds as fast as he had brought it. your cheeks grew red, putting on your seatbelt, not wanting that to happen again. or did you?

he turned on the car’s radio, and put on a song with a few swipes of his slender fingers on his phone. the screen lighting up and reading “Softcore—The neighbourhood”. your scoff at the universe being hidden as he raised the volume and sped up again.

the ride to wherever he was going was pretty long, at some point your eyes drooping from the tiredness of the school day, but immediately opening back up as you didn’t trust the boy enough to be unconscious around him.

after a few minutes, you arrived at lookout. he got out the car, and sat down on the hood. you sighed, and got out after him. the view of the city was breathtaking, the sun hiding under the clouds, a few minutes away from setting down completely. the sky a mix of purple, pink, and orange.

you stood by the car door, watching the view as he glanced at you, a ghost of a smile at his lips.

you took slow steps towards him, standing next to the hood of the car yet not sitting down beside him. you moved your eyes from the view and to his face, the sunset had painted his face a faint orange, the dark blue of his eyes almost looking brown. you sighed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time of the evening, “why did you bring me here, fushiguro?”

he turned his head to you, motioning for you to sit down next to him. you did. but he stood, moving to stand infront of you, his face being much higher than yours than it usually is. his glanced moved between your lips and you eyes, “I fucking hate you, angel.”

before you could react, he leaned down swiftly, catching your lips in his, putting one palm on the hood of the car next to your thigh and placing the other on your cheek, holding you as his soft lips pressed against yours. his cool cedarwood cologne filling your nose as it pressed against his.

you suddenly came to your senses, hitting his chest with both your hands, looking up at his now lust-filled blue orbs. he took your wrists and placed both your hands around his neck as he leaned into you again, this time you felt his tongue against your lips, begging to enter. you refused, that was until his hands went to palm your ass on the car, making you gasp as he slid his tongue into your mouth.

your tongue slowly moved against his, yet he still dominated your mouth. your hands starting to move on him, one going to grip his bicep and the other intertwining in his soft hair, you were so thankful his hair was soft today for whatever reason. no hint of any of the excessive gel he uses to hold up his spikes. as your hand easily glided through his raven locks, he grunted into your mouth, moving closer to you, opening you thighs with his hands so he could stand in between them.

you pulled away, your lungs not the only thing threatening to combust. a string of saliva connected you both until his ragged sighs and breaths broke it. your looked up at him, your eyes swiftly switching between each of his eyes. he looked down at you and blinked slowly, suddenly pulling you flush against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around your figure, face burried in your neck.

you slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, snuffling against his chest as it smelt heavenly. he groaned. you pulled back, looking up at him with a confused look, until he motioned his head downwards between the both of you. only then you realized something hard poking at your thigh. your face grew red as you burried you head in his chest again, feeling a deep chuckle come from it. he spoke in a deep, throaty voice against the shell of your ear, making you shiver, “are you a virgin?”

you moved away from his chest, looking up at his dark eyes, the sun was almost completely behind the horizon now. you slowly shaked your head, blushing. he smirked, “you naughty little thing.”

before you could say anything else, he picked you up by your ass, your hands going to tighten around his neck and your legs around his waist. you could hear one of the car doors open as your buried your face into his neck, smelling his cologne, something you clearly couldn’t get enough of.

he sat you down on the edge of the backseat, the car door still open as he knelt down in between it, looking up at you with soft eyes. you felt a lump in your throat as you started to get anxious. he realized it too, his burrows furrowing as he put his hands on your kness, his thumbs rubbing circles on your thighs. “what’s wrong, baby?”

your heart threatened to convulse at the nickname, sucking in a breath before you slowly spoke, “are..are you going to..use me? and- and then—“

he cut you off as he squeezed your thigh with one hand, and put his other palm on your cheek. “don’t say that..please.”

you didn’t know if he was genuine or not, his gaze holding an unreadable expression. but you fell for him anyway. you knew you were going to be at his mercy and do whatever he asks of you.

his eyes searching for something in yours, you nodded your head against his palm. at that, he gripped your legs and pulled you forward even more, your ass just barely on the seat of the car. his slender hands trailed up your thighs, long fingers resting on the waistline of your pants. your breaths were messy and uncollected as he slowly slid your pants down to your ankles, his gaze landing on your slightly damp underwear.

he licked his lips. the action being too intriguing for you, you leaned down, grabbing a hold of the back of his soft black hair as you smashed your lips against his. at first, he was surprised and didn’t move, then he started meeting your hungry open-mouthed kisses to his lips, tongues fighting like a tug of war.

he eventually pulled away, a slight smirk on his face “such a needy little slut, hm?”

you bite your lip as he leaves wet kisses on your lower thighs, inching closer to where you needed him most slowy. he looks up at you, and oh lord you could probably cum on the spot from only his gaze. you bite your lip harder. with the action, he let out a deep growl, biting harshly on your thigh, sure to leave a mark. he soothed it with his tongue and he spoke, mouth coming of your skin with a ‘pop’, “don’t you dare hold back your moans,” he pressed more wet kisses to your thighs, occasionally sucking and nibbling on the soft skin. “been wanting to hear em’ for so long, don’t hold back baby.”

little pants and sighs started leaving your mouth, your hips slightly bucking, trying to find some friction with the edge of the leather seat beneath you. fushiguro noticed, of course. his hands came to grip your hips, holding you down firmly as he tutted. “don’t be bad now. patience, angel.” you whined at his words, a low chuckle leaving him as his hands now gripped the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling it down.

you pressed your thighs together, nervousness creeping up your veins. he looks up at you with his dark blue eyes which looked black as the night before you. “c’mon now, lemme see that pretty pussy, yeah?”

you hesitated. he didn’t, gripping your thighs tightly as he pried your legs open. glistening cunt bare to his eyes now. he licked his lips, something you could get used to.

he pressed soft kisses on your inner thighs as he moved closer, hot breath fanning over you cunt. you clenched around nothings as he pressed a soft kiss on your clit, you bit your lip again.

a sudden sharp sting on your clit from his teeth made you scream, looking down at him as he hummed around your lips, gaze never leaving yours. you knew what he meant. he wanted you to be more vocal.

his tongue flicked around your sensitive clit, making you squirm beneath him as you started letting out quite moans, spurring him on to him against your clit as he attacked you with his tongue. his hums would spur you on to moan more, making him hum more. it was a whole cycle of the two of you getting lost in eachother’s sounds and pleasures.

as soon as your moans turned into whines and your thighs began to slightly shake against his hold, he pulled away, your wetness covering his chin and his lips. making him practically glow in the darkness surrounding you both. you whined, the knot in your stomach slipping from you and getting lost in his gaze.

he licks all around his lips, “you’re not cumming unless it’s ‘round my cock, angel.” his gruff voice making you shiver. with that, he stood up, making you lay back in the car seats. he hovered over you, one of his legs still out of the car, as his other leg was in between yours. he brought his lips down to yours, tongues instantly linking together as he hummed in your mouth. you could taste yourself on his tongue, your hands went to his neck and hair, slightly tugging on the black locks.

with a firm grip on his hair, you brought your other hand to his shoulder, pushing him down to sit, his back against the closed door of the car, one of his long legs stretched out on the seat and the other rested in a normal seating position on the floor of the car.

he furrowed his brows at your boldness, lips giving you a soft, lust-dazed smile. you put your hands in his thighs, slightly tugging at his pants. he lifted his hips to take off both his pants and underwear with a chuckle. you wanted to hear that sound forever.

the whole time you looked at his face, kind of intimidated to look down, as he finished and looked at you, he raised a brow, “It won’t bite y’know.”

you slowly looked down, your eyes widening at his length. his cock was pretty. he looked long, very long— maybe more than 7’. the head of his cock was flushed a pretty dark pink, slightly darker than the rest of his length. precum leaking down his dick from the tip.

the sound of another heavenly chuckle of his brought you out of your daze, he waited patiently for you. not trying to push you. was this the fushiguro you really knew? how was he being so soft? so kind almost?

you moved your hand towards him, gripping his length as he hissed. you pumped him slowly, his eyebrows furrowing and mouth hanging open as he let out ragged breaths and threw his head back.

you could easily say he looked the prettiest right now. so you did, “it’s so pretty.”

his dark eyes moved from the ceiling to you, raising a brow as he tried to smirk, you hand tightening around him made him wince instead.

“p-pretty?” he said in a shaky voice, almost making you chuckle. you smiled and nodded your head. if you weren’t in pure ecstatic bliss right now, you would believe fushiguro blushed at your words.

you slowly leaned down to his cock, he held his breath as your soft lips pressed a kiss to his tip. you circled your tongue around his head, his thighs slightly shaking at the action. soft pants leaving his plum lips.

you slowly took him in your mouth, less than half of it barely fitting before it hit the back of your throat. you looked up at him, he was biting his lips, looking down at you. you disconnect from his cock with a ‘pop’, a few strings of saliva around your lips as you licked them, “wanna hear you too.” you said softly, he nodded swiftly, wanting you to continue your previous actions.

you licked a strip all the way on the prominent vein showing at the side of his length. he winced in pleasure, moaning as you took him in your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down in a slow pace.

he gave out a slow whine, his hand moving to your shoulder, pulling you back from his now saliva-covered cock. his face scrunched as he took deep breaths, “i’m c-close, don’t wanna cum in your mouth.” you looked at him dumbfounded, he gave out a low chuckle, “c’mere.” he shifted on the car seat, sitting down completely and pulling you into his lap.

he held your chin, bringing your lips down to his, you melted into him, letting him dominate your mouth with his tongue. you gasped and moaned as you felt him shift, his cock sitting right at your entrance. he looked up at you, holding your hips, “gonna put it in slowly, kay?” his velvet voice making you shiver, you nodded. feeling his tip between your folds, you moaned, hands tightening on his broad shoulders.

he slowly pushed you down onto him, filling you to the brim. you screamed from the stretch, your eyes squeezing shut as he shushed you and drew small circles on your hips with his thumb. you opened your eyes, lids heavy on lust, your teeth pressed down so hard on your lower lip it drew blood. he leaned forward, licking the blood of your lips, then pressing his lips softly to yours.

you made out as his cock still sat in you, unmoving. you could feel him twitch against your walls as you bit on his lip while pulling it. he looked down between you, “fuuuuck,” you looked to where his gaze was, slightly confused. you saw what he was gawking it, his long cock made a bulge in your stomach, you clenched around him involuntarily, making him hiss as he spoke through his teeth, “if you clench around me one more time i’m going to cum without having fucked you.” there was venom in his voice, but it was delicious, you wanted it. you were insatiable.

you clenched around him, this time on command. he groaned as he pressed down on the bulge his cock made on your stomach with his slender fingers. you felt warm liquid fill you up, you moaned, as he started fucking into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the car.

you could feel his cum from a few seconds prior leak onto his thighs as he kept fucking into you, with a bruising pace. you screamed as his hand landed a harsh slap on your ass, kneading it with his palm to soothe the pain, “fuck—fuck, fuck i told you i’d cum, now you’re gonna have to take it.” you clenched around him with his words, cumming around him with a loud whine as he slapped your ass again.

his movements didn’t falter for a second. fucking you through your orgasm and after it, your hands pushing away at his chest pathetically, pulling a menacing chuckle from him as he held your arms as you shook.

you had barely came down from your high when you felt him slap you other ass cheek, thrusting into you harder than before if that was even possible, his balls slapping your ass with each movement, your thighs shaking. “f-fushiguro—“, he grunted, “megumi. say my name.” you shivered, “m-megumi!!” a chant of blabbers leaving your mouth as he fucked you dumb. “that’s right angel.”

he buried his head into your neck, you could feel his hot breaths on the shell of your ear, his movements slowing down, or so you thought. he started a different pace, instead of fast thrusts, he gave you hard ones, pulling out of your ruined cunt slowly and thrusting back in harshly after a few seconds.

both his palms went to your ass, holding your cheeks to move you with them, he spoke into your ear with a thrust of his hips, “i want you to know,” another hard thrust, making you scream, he spoke with a deep voice, “i need you to be,” another thrust, he groaned as you clenched around him, trying to suppress your moans so you could hear him. “i need you to be—fuck-argh-someone for me in my life,” you wrapped your hands around his head, his mouth leaving sloppy kisses on your neck as he thrusted again, “i can’t— i can’t let you g-go.”

your hand tugged on his hair, and that was his breaking point, cumming into you again as he thrusted, his thumb going to rub on your clit, making you cum with a scream as you tightened around him. your whole body shaked as he held you close, your pussy gushed from the overstimulation, your fluids covering his abs in a glistening sight.

you stood like that for a while, embracing eachother as your bodies cooled down. after a few seconds, he helped you get off of him, cleaning the both of you with a few tissues as he handed you your clothes.

you didn’t know what you were now, you just knew you were happy. you were happy when you screamed out the window of his car, his hand resting on your upper thigh as you urged him to shout at the empty road too.

you were happy when he got you both food, eating together as you laughed and talked. you were happy because you felt safe.

safe to just talk for hours with him about your fears and the things you’re ashamed of.. hours of pure vulnerability with him, and when you would look up, expecting the worst. you would feel his lips against yours.

only one thing bugged and ate away at your head when he dropped you off at your house, making you still your hands on the doorbell,

he never apologized.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

aaaaaa i hope you guys enjoyed this one <3

it took me a long time to write phew~ my first actual fic posted~

part 2

xxxx

#🥂 — louvre’s angels #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut

736 notes · View notes

fatiguing-thoughts · 3 years

Note

What's one common trope given to each of the wolf pack that you just dont vibe with?❤

Commonly Given Tropes That I Don’t Vibe With

ok but i went a little overboard with this and elaborated so much more than i needed to

Sam: Everyone hates him for being such a hardass and for what he did to Leah. And I get it, I do. But a supernatural change in your life at such a young age where nobody knows how to really help you is beyond difficult. He had to grow up like overnight, at 19 he became “pack dad” as he watched all these children around him go through what he did, but he didn’t want it for them either. And then to make matters worse, he imprinted on his girlfriend’s fuckin cousin. He loved Leah, and he still did after Emily. It was out of his control and it tore him up. It’s a shitty fuckin situation and I feel so so bad.

Jared: Everyone thinks Jared is just such a smartass. I mean, he definitely was, it was well within his character. However, I think he has a lot more substance than that. He’s unwaveringly loyal. I think he values his relationships of all types more than anything. I just, I think this goes over a lot of peoples’ heads. He’s got a lot of love to give, I swear it. He may be a snarky boy, but he’d definitely do anything for the people he loves. I wish we got to see more of that, he is a character with a lot of substance.

Paul: Don’t even get me started. Hothead. Hahahahaha, his only personality trait is that he has anger issues, so funny! Let’s be real here, he comes from a broken family at a young age. He doesn’t have a mother in his life and that is something that causes a lot of issues! Not to mention that being a teenager is hard in itself, your body is changing and things are weird. Now let’s take into consideration that these are no longer normal hormones, his body is basically changing overnight to let him transform into an enormous wolf that has to dedicate his life to killing vampires posing a threat to him, his friends, and family. Everyone on the reservation, even. Forks, too. He had to sacrifice his entire life to do this, and he wasn’t exactly even-tempered to start with, and it’s known this change totally ups your irritability, hell it even made Jacob angry. Let’s be real, his anger issues are something to be considered other than “oooh angry hot boi 😈” jeez

Embry: Embry, bb boi Embry. I love his character so much. I think the whole thing about Embry is like haha Embry’s so funny and goofy but in reality the kid struggles a lot. He’s constantly fighting with his mom because he for whatever reason can’t tell her about the pack or anything. He’s grounded “until forever” and always feels like he’s disappointing his mom even though he’s really just doing his best but like in reality he’s always in trouble or “grounded indefinitely.” The transformation put a huge strain on their relationship. Now, on top of that, he knows now that one of his friends might be his half fuckin brother because he literally doesn’t even know who his father is because his mom won’t tell him. So he’s got not only daddy issues, now he’s getting some mommy issues. This kid has a lot going on and I’m sure he’s struggling more than he leads on.

Jacob: Jacob. The sunshine. I will be talking about angel boy Jacob in New Moon. I hate that he’s only seen to be in love with Bella. I would rather see it as him being loyal, supportive, and selfless. He would’ve done anything to put a smile on her face, he was caring. Jacob would’ve done anything for his friends, it was so beautiful. He was described to be the sunshine, he was full of love. No matter how down he was, he was always there to be the shoulder to cry on, no matter how much he needed one. I love this Jacob, I just want to give him a hug and tell him that everything will be okay.

Quil: Oh Quil, my boy Quil. I feel like everyone just thinks he’s kinda a dumbass for some reason. Like we don’t see much of him in the movies but I truly think Quil is actually super intelligent. I think he has more depth than he’s ever given credit for. Like when he told Bella that he was afraid to be next to be recruited to Sam’s “gang.” He knew he was next, he’s intuitive. I just wish more people saw Quil to be what he is, not just Jacob’s goofy friend. Well, he is Jake’s goofy friend but he’s a smart guy! I think he’s lowkey super intelligent.

Leah: She’s known to be a bitter bitch. I can’t stand this and honestly I think she’s one of the most caring people in the series. I don’t care that she gave Bella the cold shoulder, in-fact I give her props. The love of her life left her for her cousin, now she has to share thoughts with him and the guys who give her shit for her feelings. I don’t blame her for being so displeased all the time. Like she keeps getting the shit end of the stick the entire series, it sucks. She tries to protect Jacob, but he hates her for it even though she’s right. She then has to protect Seth, because she loves him more than anything. Her father died and she had to deal with not only that but then her mother dating Bella’s fuckin father, Charlie, making Bella her damn step sister. Shit’s whack and I’m so sick of hearing people say that Leah was a bitch.

Seth: Baby boy Seth, everyone’s favorite little ball of sunshine. I have an issue with the fact that Seth will always be portrayed to be perfectly bubbly, happy, and sweet. Sometimes, I just want to see him react to something. I feel so bad about his father passing, We only see him react minimally when it comes to Bella and the demon baby. I just would like to see an angry or frustrated side of Seth, a side that doesn’t forgive everyone for everything so quickly. I know deep down he probably struggles listening to everyone rag on his sister in the mind link. It’s probably conflicting to take orders from the man who broke your sister’s heart. I love that Seth is the nice, innocent boy but I know this kid faces inner turmoil. I just wish we got to see more of it.

#twilight #twilight wolf pack #sam uley #jared cameron #paul lahote #embry call #jacob black #quil ateara #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #getting to know me #thanks for coming to my ted talk #i'm just saying how i feel

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bigballofstress · 4 years

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Pickpocket (Avengers x Child!Reader)

Description: You have been living on the streets for years, and over these years, you have become incredibly good at pickpocketing. Unfortunately for you, though, you picked the wrong target one too many times.

Part 2 if you guys want it, just let me know!

Chin up, shoulders back, even steps. My heart is calm, my breaths slow and measured, and every muscle in my body is relaxed. In other words, every last inch of me screams that I am a confident, kind young lady without a care in the world.

No matter what anybody says, looks really are everything. Every time you meet someone new or even just pass by them on the street, your mind makes a snap judgement about them. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that everyone you meet is prejudiced or anything of the sort. Those snap judgements can easily be changed with an open-minded person, sometimes without even needing a whole conversation. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that when you see a well-groomed person in a suit, your mind automatically thinks they are successful, and when you see someone coming at you with a hoodie covering their face and their hands in their pockets, you automatically tense up. None of that is your fault, and actually it’s probably a good thing that you would be wary of people who are acting rather suspicious. Really, the only issue with these immediate ideas of every person you see is the fact that it makes people like me -- people who understand how these momentary impressions work -- able to take advantage of them.

It didn’t take long to realize I had a talent for it. I already looked the part, -- a helpless, adorable little girl -- I had a surprising knack for staying calm under pressure, and as much as I hated the old bitch, my caretaker had given me all the tools I needed. She was a stickler for proper manners, so I learned how to speak, sit, and walk like a “proper young lady.” Plus, her insane rules about tiny meal portions and too-early curfews taught me to be light on my feet as I often sneaked downstairs to grab a roll of bread at night. Yes, I had everything I needed. The only real hurdle was actually deciding to do it. I never really wanted to be a bad person. But the world is a heartless place, the city even more so, and by the end of my first week, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to survive.

So, I started working -- oh, and by the way, no matter what you think, it is still a job. I put my time and effort into a certain task, and I obtain money because of it. I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like a job to me. And it was easier than I thought it would be. Within about a day, I realized that people saw me as sweet, innocent, and harmless -- no, more than that, they wanted to see me as harmless. Because if I wasn’t harmless, then that meant their world was even more screwed up than they thought. I learned quick, and by the end of the year, I had perfected my technique. It was simple: avoid all conversation if possible, and if absolutely necessary, smile and point out the farthest adult man within reason as my dad before weaving through the small gaps in the crowd, preferably around taller people, so they couldn’t see or follow me. I only got caught once or twice, but I’m grateful that I did. It forced me to learn perspective, that I needed to know more than just how to talk well. So, I learned how to run through a city. And now, I’m practically unstoppable.

As I take my even, not-too-fast-but-not-too-slow stroll down the sidewalk, a small, ambiguous smile decorating my lips, I can see it in each person’s eyes as they walk past that I have completely embodied my character. My arms swung with a practiced nonchalance as my eyes flickered from one person to the next, each time going through a mental list as I weighed the chances I had of succeeding on them versus how likely they were to catch on and calculated the amount of time that both of these events would likely take to happen. Finally, after a few minutes of this practice, one of them caught my eye.

He was larger, more muscular. Guys like him were a gamble. Often, a man of his appearance simply cared a bit too much about his appearance. Still, every now and then, they look like that because they been trained, and while past training usually meant they had no practice running in a city, it also meant that he would be much more jumpy and alert to his surroundings. However, his deep, loose pockets with the corner of his wallet just barely sticking out and the thoughtful gaze as he surveyed the buildings tipped the scales further and further in my favor. The wonder in his eyes just screamed tourist.

I gazed forward with an absentminded look in my eye that I’d spent months perfecting in the mirror while keeping him clearly in my periphery before bumping into him. As I hit him, two of my fingers simultaneously dipped into his pocket, where my knee bumped against his leg to jolt his wallet up and out. The moment the warm leather was in my grasp, I forced myself to fall backwards. Before I could hit the ground, though, I felt one of those strong, muscular arms had wrapped itself around my waist and was helping me back up.

My jaw clenched for half a second. This wasn’t good. His reflexes were too quick to have just worked out at some random gym, which meant my hunch was right: he had been trained. And that meant that I needed to get out of there fast. I wouldn’t be able to slip the wallet back in his pocket without bumping into him again, and that would only make me look even more suspicious, so I quickly emptied it of all of the cash behind his back and slipped the bills into my sleeve before tossing the piece of leather on the ground a few feet away.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes, and immediately I decided on my personality for the day -- bright and bubbly but proper. Gently, he released his arm from its position on my waist once he knew I had regained my footing.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I quickly apologized, my left hand shooting up to cover my mouth in fake shock while my right hand carefully dropped the money in one of my own pockets, all the while watching every last one of his movements for any sign of suspicion. “It was all my fault. I wasn’t paying attention where I was going.”

“It’s ok, really.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I wasn’t really looking where I was going either, so it was partially my fault, too.”

“Well, thank you for catching me, sir, but I really have to go,” I smiled at him apologetically. “I’m supposed to meet back up with my dad in about five minutes.”

“Oh, no worries,” he responded kindly before sneaking a glance at my old, slightly ripped clothes, the concern still dancing in his eyes. “You’re sure you’re alright, though?”

“Absolutely!” I dismissed. “Thank you again!”

“Um, yeah, no problem.” We both started to walk away.

I waited patiently as I listened to his retreating steps. 1... 2... 3... 4... and then-- “Hey, mister!” I called, bending down and grabbing the piece of leather from where I had tossed it earlier. “I think you might’ve dropped your wallet!”

The man turned back, shocked, before jogging back towards me. “I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled to himself. “Hey, thanks, kid.”

“My pleasure!” I chirped. “Now, sorry, but I really have to get going. See you around, sir!” I quickly jogged off, allowing myself to get lost in the crowd before he could even have a minute to fully understand what happened.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“I told you guys the world wasn’t such a bad place!” Steve called as he entered the living room of Stark Tower. The rest of the Avengers looked up in surprise. They had been having this argument for the past three days, with Steve insisting that there were still people who put others first living in New York while the entire rest of the team tried to convince him otherwise.

“Alright, show your work,” Tony leaned back against the wall, watching the captain with curiosity.

“I met a kid today who couldn’t have been older than 16. I was trying to remember what the city looked like before I went in the ice, and I accidentally bumped into her. She then spent the next few minutes constantly apologizing and saying it was all her fault. And the best part is, after we’d already walked away, she found and returned my wallet. I hadn’t even realized I had dropped it!” The 96-year-old man finished with a triumphant grin, leaving the rest of the team silent for a moment. That is, until Tony busted out laughing. Steve frowned. “...What?”

“Steve, honey, check inside of your wallet,” Natasha sighed as she turned back to the tv to watch whatever was on.

Steve frowned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. “I don’t understand; why do you want me to....” He trailed off as he stared at the now empty pocket that only just earlier that day held around 65 dollars in cash. “She... but how did she...”

Tony slapped a heavy hand on Steve’s shoulder, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye. “She scammed you, bro. And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker,” he grinned before walking back to his room, still chuckling softly to himself at his friend’s misfortune.

------- Time Skip -------

About two weeks had passed since that godsend of a man and I crossed paths. I can’t remember the last time I had managed to lift 65 dollars off anyone. That kind of cash can last someone like me a really long time. But sadly, all good things must come to an end, and after buying myself the first decent meal I’d had in weeks plus a ton of canned foods and non-perishables that I dropped off at the nearest homeless shelter, that good thing ended ended all too quickly. Which meant it was time I went back to work.

I stepped into the public library, that same ambiguous smile painted ever so gently across my face. There weren’t a whole lot of people here and there were almost never any big scores, but working here was a lot less guess-work, and more often than not, the target was too engrossed in their book to even notice what I was doing, so there was also much less risk of being caught.

After a quick scan of the quiet room, my eyes landed on the man sitting at one of the long tables, his bag haphazardly laying next to him on the table. It should be easy enough to grab something from in there, and he seemed invested enough to have his guard down. He should make for a good target.

I walked into the science section and grabbed a few scientific papers, most of which were generally about to nuclear physics, before walking back to his table and sitting down right across from him. Scientific papers are the best way to make sure no one has the confidence to talk to you. I opened the paper that I had read a hundred times and started pretending to read it once more, my left hand resting on my cheek as my right hand slowly made its way towards the bag.

“Excuse me.” I glanced up, pausing my movement towards his back but still being careful not to react too quickly and retract my hand. I didn’t want to draw his attention to what I was doing, and if at all possible, I would still like to come out of this with something to show for it. As I met the glasses-clad, clearly intelligent eyes of the man in front of me, it was easy to figure out what my personality should be -- shy, smart, and above all else, kind. “Is that Schippers’s work?”

I blinked in surprise and allowed a soft smile to spread across my lips. “You know Stefan Schippers?”

“Yeah, his work in antimatter is amazing,” he grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and making him almost look like a completely different person. “Particularly regarding his research in collisions.”

I grinned back, taking note of how his eyes were now trained on mine, instead of glancing around like before. Maybe I should’ve started a conversation before -- clearly it was a good distraction for him. Well, either way, it’s going to be easier to lift something off of him now, so I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. “I completely agree. His work is amazing,” I giggled softly, glancing down at the table before looking back up at him, a slight red hue now painting the apples of my cheeks as my hand slipped inside of his bag.

“I was honestly surprised to see you reading that paper, actually,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve read it at least 20 times, but I figured I was the only one.” I laughed lightly, slipping what felt like a wallet out of the bag and tucking it under my arm.

“Trust me, I’ve read this so many times, I’m afraid the library is going to have to replace it because I’ve worn it out so much. You know, if you’re interested in Schippers, you should read some of Dr. Banner’s papers,” I laid my left hand on his arm gently while my right arm swung back over to me, pushing the wallet into my lap. “As much as I love Schippers, Dr. Banner’s work is unparalleled.”

The man chuckled nervously again, ducking his head a bit. “You really think so, huh? How old are you anyways? I don’t see a whole lot of kids brushing up on nuclear physics.”

“I’m older than I look,” I casually brushed off the question. I was not about to give up any personal information, fellow science geek or not. “Oh, by the way, do you have the time?”

The man glanced at his watch. “About 6:00.”

My eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding, it got that late?! My dad’s gonna kill me!” I gasped and quickly stood up, catching the wallet in my left hand and slipping it into my pocket. “It was really nice meeting you, sir, but I have to go home. I really liked talking to you, though! I hope we can meet again!” I hurriedly gathered the papers and rushed off, waving with a broad smile.

“Oh, uh nice meeting you... too...” he tried to respond, but she was already well out of sight.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, digging through his bag. The pizza had just arrived, and he needed to pay his share.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“I could’ve sworn I put my wallet in here, but now I can’t find it,” he frowned, continuing to search every last nook and cranny of the old bag.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy, I can cover you if you’re short,” Tony shrugged.

“That’s not the issue,” Bruce frowned, finally giving up and tossing his bag to the side in frustration. “That had my credit card, my driver’s license, and my ID for Stark Tower. If it’s lost somewhere, it could be a real problem.”

“When was the last time you remember having it?” Clint mumbled through a full mouth of the piece of pizza that he’d already shoved in his face. Natasha rolled her eyes and wiped off the bit of spit he’d gotten on her in disgust.

“I was at the library. I used my library card to check out some books,” he responded confidently.

“Again?” Clint asked, once again through a mouthful of cheese and marinara sauce. “What, do you live there or something?”

“Ok, now walk us through exactly what happened after you checked out those books,” Natasha suggested, doing her best to ignore her best friend.

Bruce sighed and nodded, sitting down. “I checked out my books, then walked over to one of the tables to start reading. Then I talked to that teenager for a little while about some of Schippers’s theories before she ran off--”

“You talked to a teenager about Schippers? And she actually understood?” Tony asked, lifting a brow in surprise.

“Yeah, she even recommended I read Dr. Banner’s work in the same field,” Bruce chuckled. “I thought it better not to tell her who I was, but according to her, Banner’s work is ‘unparalleled’.”

“Damn, the kid knows her stuff,” Tony nodded, impressed. “Did she say anything about--”

“Boys,” Natasha cut in. “The wallet.”

“Ah, right,” Bruce mumbled apologetically. “Anyways, after she ran off, I kept reading for a few minutes before leaving, too. Then I came back to the tower and got up here just in time to decide on ordering pizza with you guys.”

“Did you use the subway?” Natasha asked.

Bruce shook his head. “No. I figured since it was such a nice day out, I would just walk home.”

“How did you enter the building?”

“I ran into Steve downstairs, and we came in together.”

Steve, who had been silent up until this point, finally spoke up. “This teenager... Was she about 16? With (H/C) hair?”

“What, you think it’s the same girl who totally scammed you the other--” Tony started, getting ready to take part in his favorite pastime of making fun of Steve.

“Actually, yeah, she was,” Bruce answered, his eyes wide in realization.

Before anyone could say anything, Tony’s incredibly loud laughter filled the room. “Holy shit, you guys both got scammed by the same teenager! How does that even happen?!” He wheezed, laughing so hard he could hardly breath.

“Hey she seemed like a nice girl!” Bruce defended. “How was I supposed to know she was robbing me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius or something?” Tony asked, tears streaming down his face now. Bruce opened his mouth, trying to come up with something but came up blank. A heavy hand landing on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor.

“Just let it happen,” Steve sighed, his eyes cast down as he shook his head in sympathy.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a week since I had spoken to that science nerd in the library, and I was still pissed. Seriously, what kind of grown man only carries around 4 dollars and 36 cents? Well, apparently, that weirdo did. I had thrown out all the cards and IDs to at least sell the what looked to be leather wallet to a pawn shop, but apparently the thing wasn’t even leather! All of that time, wasted for a measly 12 bucks. I’ll say it again: I was pissed.

So, now I was back out working again, because the money I’d made was barely enough to buy a few snacks that I had to portion out over the course of the past week.

As I walked down the sidewalk, still grumbling softly to myself about what had happened, I saw him.

Tony freaking Stark.

I grinned. Maybe my luck was getting better after all. I mean, a billionaire who’s famous for having, shall we say, questionable morals? After all, it’s not exactly nice to sleep with as many women as humanly possible before tossing them away like they’re nothing. I mean, sure there’s the whole iron man thing, but he’s still kind of a dick, let’s be honest. And while I usually tried to refrain from taking anything major in case my target doesn’t have a whole lot of money or the object is sentimental, billionaire jerks are fair game. And the best part was, I didn’t even have to read him to know the part I was going to play. Tony Stark would only ever fall for one personality: sarcastic, quick-witted, and strong.

His head was down, buried in his phone, so I casually walked towards him, picking up an old cup of coffee from one of a nearby cafe’s outdoor tables, before smacking into him head-first, spilling the coffee everywhere.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh my god!” We both yelled at the same time.

“Oh c’mon, kid, this is silk!” Tony continued to shout, staring down at the coffee covering his chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one with my head buried in my phone while walking through one of the busiest cities in the world,” I snapped back. “And you’re not the only one whose clothes got ruined. This is cashmere!” I lied through my teeth. It was a ratty old sweater that I’d bought for about 3 dollars at a thrift store.

Stark scoffed. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark. That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are gonna be pissed about me ruining a hundred dollar sweater,” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms defiantly.

That was when he finally glanced at me and my coffee-stained outfit. Stark sighed and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I’m sorry.” Wait, what? Since when does the great Tony Stark ever apologize for anything? “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning, ok? Just give me your parents’ numbers.”

Shit, that’s not how this is supposed to go. Ok, new strategy. A sassy front but a kind interior.

I sighed and shook my head. “No, it’s not entirely your fault. I guess I could’ve tried to avoid you better. Anyways, you got a pen and paper?”

Stark nodded slightly and reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a tiny pad and a fancy looking pen. I quickly jotted down the phone number and handed it back to him. Shoot, he looked like he was about to walk away. I had to act quick or lose my chance. Time to add one more very important characteristic to my identity: pitiable. “Hey, I really am sorry. I kind of overreacted. It wasn’t cool. I guess I just got a little nervous. My dad likes things to be clean, and he can get pretty mad when I don’t follow that rule...” I trailed off a bit, glancing down at my feet. I shook my head quickly and met the billionaire’s gaze, now filled with concern, again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to dump that on you. I just wanted to say thanks.” I held out my right hand, praying that I’d guessed which hand to use correctly. As Stark grabbed my hand, I had to hold back a sigh of relief when I saw the watch casually placed on his wrist.

“It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I smiled a bit, with my left hand closing over his wrist while three of my fingers on my right hand undid the clasp on his watch. Then I pressed down one the buttons on either side of the clasp with my middle finger on my right hand and my thumb on my left hand, making sure to hold the watch in place. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to buy you a coffee to make up for it. There’s a really nice café right over there.” I squeezed the watch tightly with my left hand and jerked my chin towards the store just behind him. He turned his head and looked, pulling his hand back slightly as he did so, which allowed me to slip the watch off his wrist. Immediately, I dropped it in my pocket before he had a chance to turn back around.

“Thanks, kid, but I’m good. I’ll give your parents a call when I get home, ok?” He said before awkwardly giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Now go run off and play with some dolls or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but my collection can’t be nearly as big as yours,” I bit back with a slight, good-natured smirk. “Anyways, I gotta go home and get yelled at by my parents. Nice meeting you, Mr. Stark,” I called, waving to him as I was already leaving.

Stark shook his head with a small smile. “Yeah, you too, kid.”

-- 3rd Person POV --

“What, no watch today?” Tony furrowed his brows at Bruce’s question.

“Of course I have a watch today. I have a watch for every day of the week,” he scoffed, lifting his wrist to show off the rather expensive Rolex.

“Umm dude...?” Clint started.

“Yeah, I know it’s awesome, and no, you cannot try it on,” Tony smirked. “I have a very strict look don’t touch policy. These bad boys cost quite the pretty penny, and I wouldn’t want any of you trying to take it from me.” Clint just shrugged in defeat and unpaused his video game -- it wasn’t his fault his friend interrupted him trying to help.

“Tony, look at your wrist,” Steve rolled his eyes at the pompous man’s antics.

“What, just so I can admire it--” he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the bare skin of his wrist. “...Where the hell is my watch?”

“Maybe you forgot to put one on today?” Bruce shrugged, going back to his computer as he continued to work.

“No, I didn’t forget; I never forget,” Tony snapped. “It was there this morning, and now it’s gone.” He yanked up his sleeve to search in vain for the incredibly expensive missing item.

“Hey, maybe Tony was pick-pocketed, too,” Clint joked absentmindedly before cursing at some ‘dumbass little camping noob’ who kept killing him.

Tony’s eyes widened in realization. “Holy shit, it was the kid.”

“What?” Steve frowned.

“The kid! The kid who spilled coffee on me today!” He shouted. “I had my watch, then she shook my hand, and now the watch is gone. She totally took it!”

Clint paused the game again. “Wait, so basically some kid took your custom watch, which is worth thousands of dollars, right off your wrist, and you didn’t even notice?” Tony bobbed his head up and down frantically. “Hold on... You don’t think...” Clint glanced between the three other men in the room.

“(H/C) hair?” Steve asked.

“(E/C) eyes?” Bruce called, suddenly no longer able to focus on his work.

Tony nodded slowly with wide eyes. Reality crashed down on all three of them.

A wide smile slowly took over Clint’s face. “So you mean to tell me that three of the Avengers, the Earth’s greatest defenders, got scammed by the same teenage girl in less than a month?” The three men were silent, each of them staring at the ground as they started to question how smart they actually were.

About 30 seconds later, the silence was broken. “Nat, you’ll never believe what just happened. I can’t believe you weren’t home for this,” Clint talked excitedly into the phone while his teammates all slowly left the room to sulk alone.

------- Time Skip -------

It had been a whole month since I had gotten the watch off Tony Stark. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the amount of zeros on the offer the pawn shop had given me. It was probably one of the best days of my life. Immediately, I had gone out and bought myself a meal at an actual restaurant, and let me tell you, they weren’t kidding when they said restaurant food is delicious. Every protein bar and bag of chips in the world couldn’t live up to the food I ate that day. And with that kind of money, I could be eating like that for maybe even a year! Still, I knew what I had to do.

It was almost Christmas. With the money I’d just gotten, I could afford to buy each and every kid at the orphanage actual brand new presents that year, instead of the crummy second-hand stuff that had to be shared between three or four kids that I usually brought. So, I went out and blew a good three quarters of my new budget on toys, and not the kind from thrift shops or even the ones from the big department stores. I could finally get them toys from one of the fancy stores that had display windows. And it was worth it, too, seeing the pure amazement that lit up those kids’ eyes when they saw there was enough for all of them. I then spent another quarter of the money on nonperishable foods that I donated to the homeless shelter plus one massive turkey for their Christmas feast.

After all of that, I was left with around 20 dollars for myself. Usually I can make money like that last with just a few extra marks, but as the month dragged on and less and less people were out on the streets at night, my budget ran thin. Eventually, I reached my breaking point. I’d gone I think four days now without any food. My stomach growled loudly, begging me to give it something, anything. I just sighed and receded further into the fabric of my thin, worn down coat that I’d found a few days back by a dumpster -- the coat I used to wear long traded in for a couple spare dollars. Sure, the wind cut through it like a knife, but hell, it was better than nothing.

I glanced up as I heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow, my heard immediately leaping into my throat at the prospect of there being people out. I frowned when I saw who they were. A couple walking together, chatting away about something or another. Normally, I would never choose a couple to target -- it was too easy for one of them to spot what I was doing to the other -- but I had gotten desperate. I was freezing cold, and I needed food now.

So, I walked directly towards them and crashed my shoulder into the guy’s, my hand slipping into his pocket. I thanked whatever higher power was watching over me when my hand came into contact with a money clip.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and slipped my hand back out before continuing to walk at a casual pace away from the two, tucking the clip into my pocket.

-- 3rd Person POV --

“Well that was rude,” Clint huffed, dusting himself off.

Natasha stared at the back of the young girl who continued to walk away like nothing had happened. “Hey, Clint,” she muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s your wallet?”

“I put it back in my... pocket....” Clint froze when he realized he couldn’t feel the familiar clip in his jacket pocket. He whirled around to look at the girl, who was already a ways away. “Hey! Get back here!” He screamed, breaking into a run, Natasha quickly following suit.

-- Your POV --

“Hey! Get back here!” I glanced back with wide eyes, my heart leaping into my throat before immediately sprinting.

I ran through the snow, turning right and left through back alleys and narrow shortcuts, thanking my past self for never eating well, as my skinny form was able to stay on top of the snow for the most part. Still, somehow I hadn’t lost the two adults chasing me yet. They had barely fallen a foot or two behind over the last eight blocks. My stamina was quickly running out, the malnourishment over the past week finally catching up to me. I felt dizzy, and my chest burned as I focused on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. I turned down an alleyway with a brick wall at the end.

“Ha! We’ve finally caught you!” The man behind me panted. I completely ignored him, not pausing a single step as I sprinted towards the wall.

“Uhh, hey, kid? Rock beats teenager...” He called warily. I continued to ignore him. I was only five feet away. “Stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he shouted just before I jumped, pressing my feet into the bricks to launch my further and further up. I reached as high as I could and just barely caught the edge of the wall with my fingertips. I swung my other arm up and forced my arms to pull myself to the top.

I panted as I gazed down from the top of the wall, the couple staring back up at me. “Holy shit,” the man muttered, to which the woman immediately smacked him in the arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was hungry.” I wasn’t really sure why I was apologizing. Granted, I knew what I was doing wasn’t very nice, but I don’t recall ever apologizing before. Maybe it’s because they reminded me of my parents -- or, at least, what I imagined my parents to be like. Maybe it’s because I was so dizzy that I couldn’t really think straight. I nodded slightly to the two before turning around, preparing myself to jump down the other side.

Suddenly, a massive wave of dizziness and nausea smacked me in the face. I groaned slightly and put my hand to my forehead, trying to get a hold of myself. Evidently, that didn’t work, because the next thing I knew, I was falling.

Time seemed to slow as I fell through the air. I probably shouldn’t pass out right now, the surprisingly calm thought entered my mind. If I do, I’ll most likely just freeze to death. Then again, passing out would save me a lot of pain from falling. Alright, I guess that’s it then. I’ll pass out now and hope I wake up in time to not die. My eyes fluttered closed just before I hit the ground, the fog in my brain thickening as I finally allowed myself to just give in to it.

-- 3rd Person POV --

Clint grunted as he caught the girl. He was expecting to fall to the ground with her, only really serving to break her fall, but was surprised to find that she wasn’t even heavy enough to knock him down. Natasha made her way over to his side, looking down at the little thief in her friend’s arms.

“She’s light as a feather,” Clint murmured with a frown on his face, “and freezing to the touch.”

“She said she was hungry,” Natasha muttered thoughtfully.

Clint grit his teeth and nodded, determined. “Alright, that settles it. We’re taking her back to the tower.”

Natasha glanced at him warily. “You sure? The others might not be so accepting.”

“They’re gonna have to be,” he stated, already walking back, holding the girl as close as he could in an attempt to warm her up.

#Avengers #avengers one shot #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

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linkspooky · 4 years

Text

Dabi the Villain, Touya the Victim

That no.1 title you’ve always wanted is a lot of pressure, huh? Has your heart been purified with all the praise you’ve received from the public? Does your newfound vigor as a father figure to your children, make you feel like you’re developing a ‘familial bond’ with them? You seriously thought if you could keep your eyes towards the future the past would forget itself would you? It’s time for someone to give you a life lesson - (RHA SCANS).

The past doesn’t forget. Dabi doesn’t forget. Scars may fade with time but Dabi’s won’t, they’ll only get worse and worse as he continues to burn himself using his quirk. Dabi arrives at literally the single worst time possible, to throw salt in old wounds, and stick his fingers in them for good measure. It’s clear, Dabi’s revenge is just going to make things worse for everyone, including his family, including Shoto.

However that begs the question, if not now, then when? This was always going to happen. I don’t mean ‘abusive families have to air their dirty laundry in live television’ I mean, there was always going to be some consequence to what Endeavor did to his family. Dabi is a monster, yes, but in-story he’s a monster of Endeavor’s creation. Dabi wouldn’t even exist without Endeavor’s direct actions. He’s a reflection of every bad thing Endeavor has done up until this point and everything he needs to face. The number one hero created the number one worst villain.

1. The Shadow

Dabi is more than just a murderer, he’s also a jungian archetype. The shadow is a jungian idea that states on the whole we are not as good as we think we are. In fact, we actually might be much worse.

The shadow is either an unconscious aspect of the personality that the conscious ego does not identify in itself; or the entirety of the unconscious, i.e., everything of which a person is not fully conscious. In short, the shadow is the unknown side.

To put it into simple terms how we perceive ourselves, what we are aware of the light, is the conscious mind.

Everything else, everything we’re unaware of, what we’re ignoring, how we might come off to others, the unintended consequences of our actions is the shadow we cast. This isn’t something I”m making up it’s directly referenced in story.

The approach of the villains have multiple times been compared to shadows stretching and growing deeper, this is Jungian symbolism.

The emperor of Fallen Light, the villain that Dabi himself sent after Endeavor said word for word “His shining Light beckons the dark.” This is a story idea that’s been set up for awhile, Endeavor’s light is a false light. He is a good hero, the best there is currently, but calling him a hero requires ignoring everything he has done to his family. Most of the people who call Endeavor a hero have no idea what he did to his family, and even most of his family is just trying to forget and move on with their lives.

Endeavor’s redemption so far has been a false one, it hinges on everybody else wanting to just move on with their lives, and everyone else being forgiving towards his actions. I’m not saying that Endeavor’s wish to atone isn’t genuine, I’m saying the story has been setting up an arc of false light. We are shown the light of his actions, his desire to redeem himself, his desire to be a hero that Shoto can look up to, and we ignore the shadow.

There’s a duality to Endeavor. Technically there’s a duality to everyone. There’s the light, and the dark. To put it in less abstract terms, even within good intentions there can be hidden bad intentions. A person who gives to charity might just be doing it to make themselves feel like they’re a good person. There’s even an episode of friends about this, Phoebe gets in an argument with somebody that even “charitable” deeds like giving awaay money can be a little selfish because helping others makes you feel good about yourself, so she tries the whole episode to find a truly selfless action.

There’s a duality to Endeavor, there are two Endeavors, Endeavor the hero, and Endeavor the bad dad. They are both Endeavor in the end, he is all of his good actions and bad actions. Focusing only on his bad actions, or only on his good actions would be an incorrect reading of his character.

What I’m saying is, this idea has been building up in the story for a long time. This duality in Endeavro’s character. He is a hero capable of villainous things. However, the public, Endeavor’s own family, and characters like Midoriya and All Might only really ever see the good side to Endeavor’s actions. They all look at the light, at Endeavor the hero.

For the most part Endeavor has not been confronted by consequences for his actions. Yes, Endeavor tries to listen when Natsuo expresses his hurt feelins. Yes, Endeavor realizes his family might want to live without him in the house. However, as opposed to Dabi who has been hated as a villain by all of society for the crimes he has committed, Endeavor is still getting the hero treatment. The worst Endeavor has to come against is his own children’s hurt feelings at his actions. Even then, Natsuo has somebody like Fuyumi constantly pushing him to try to reconcile with his father. He has Endeavor violating his boundaries, and hugging him. Rather than criticizing Endeavor for what he did, most of the criticism falls on Natsuo for not moving on. Like, what Endeavor did is just something that happened in the past that they all have to move on from. He still has the respect of his peers, he still has his position in society, he still has the title of Number One Hero.

This happens because everybody looks at Endeavor, and they’re all blinded by the light, they only see his good deeds and not his bad ones. This isn’t a post debating whether or not Endeavor earned or deserves his punishment, or whether require punishment, it’s just an argument that there are consequences to your actions. That’s Dabi. He’s consequences. Everyone around Endeavor has been repressing their feelings. The Todorokis are asked to repress their personal hurt over the past for the sake of moving forward.

Dabi is the shadow that Endeavor casts. There is a villain in Endeavor’s actions. As long as Endeavor ignores that, as long as he keeps seeing himself in only a heroic life, that villain is only going to manifest elsewhere. In a story, repression does not work, simply ignoring your problems does not work. If a character ignores their shadow that shadow manifests and takes on a life of it’s own.

Dabi is a response to those repressed feelings. Not only is he a repsonse to them, he’s an inevitable result of them. No child abuse doesn’t usually turn abuse victims into murderers. That’s also, not the point. The point is this is a story, Endeavor tried to just bury the past, and Dabi, rose from the grave and said “No, I don’t think the past is better off buried. I think we should talk about it.”

2. The Monster

“People like to think their actions are free from guilt but they’re not-” This is once again more Jungian symbolism. People want to believe they are on the whole good and well-intentioned people. People want to believe they are better than they are.

Dabi has been hurt. Burned even. While Endeavor only looks at the best of himself, his heroic intentions, his ambition to become number one, Dabi sees not only the worst in himself, but the worst in his father, the worst in everyone.

The reason people identify with Dabi is not because they think murderers are sexy (but let’s admit it they are) it’s because Dabi as a character is made up of hurt feelings. He has been burned. He doesn’t forgive the people who burned him. He represents a darker, rawer side to human emotion. Sometimes abuse doesn’t make people poor innocent victims, it’s just pain, sometimes nothing constructive or good comes out of it. Sometimes it’s just damage, to you, and everybody around you.

Putting aside the fact that he’s a murderer (hey I acknowledged it, look at me acknowledging it), Dabi is also written as a character to embody the worst parts of abuse. The negative emotions that Dabi feels are real. Dabi’s hurt feelings are just as real, as the good intentions and desire to forgive that family members like Fuyumi and Shoto have. Neither is more valid, more real than the other.

However, everyone looks at the light, and the shadow is ignored. Dabi’s hurt feelings haven’t even been acknowledged. Not only that, but the feelings of all people hurt tend to get swept under the rug for the sake of “everyone else.”

When Shigaraki says Heroes have turned a blind-eye to the suffering of others, he doesn’t mean that heroes don’t try their hardest to save people, or that heroes never save people. He’s saying that the characters in the story are repressing their issues instead of confronting them, and repression makes people ignorant instead of being able to truly address the problem. Now, connect that back to Dabi, who is the shadow of his father’s actions.

Toya himself is someone in the story who has been “forgotten.” We see Fuyumi praying at his shrine, as well as Endeavor, Natsuo can’t bring himself to forgive Endeavor because of his feelings over Toya. Yes, yes, yes. However. One, the number one hero had his son die and nobody even investigated into those situation. Two, nobody even talks about it nowadays. Shoto brings up his older brother’s death at the dinner table like it’s just an awkward subject he’s uncomfortable talking about... not you know, a tragedy.

And I’m not saying that Shoto is in the wrong here. I don’t mean to demonize his response. I’m suggesting he’s repressed. He’s repressing his hurt feelings about the brother he never got a chance to meet, his two other siblings, his mother, all of that to continue to work with his father because he wants to move forward with his dream, and probably because if he tried facing all of that it would hurt a lot.

However, it’s still the tendency of all the characters on the heroic side to repress things, and look at that from Dabi’s point of view. His own family members don’t even recognize him because of a few scars on his face.

It’s lonely. At the very least it’s lonely and serves to isolate Dabi in his grief further. Push him to believing that he really did die alone and was going to get forgotten, that his survival is just a hindrance that prevents everything in his family from moving forward. Dabi is made up of hurt feelings, and Dabi without prejudgice takes out those feelings on other people. However, Dabi is still a person. The same way Endeavor is both hero and villain, Dabi is both villain and victim at the same time. Dabi was a ten year old who didn’t really do anything wrong who died, after being ignored by his father his whole life. Dabi is, a zombie that’s barely alive, and constantly killing himself with his own quirk. Dabi’s pain is impossible to ignore, and yet he feels ignored.

The difference between Dabi and Endeavor is that Dabi is living as a villain, he acknowledges that he is a villain. He’s the only one in the league to show genuine remorse for killing people, crying a tear of blood and trying to dissociate his own feelings of guilt and the past from himself to the point where he remarks he’s going ‘crazy’ thinking about it. (That doesn’t make it okay, but since when is anything ever okay with the Todorokis?) You have a character who knows exactly what he did wrong, confronting a character who for the most part still sees hismelf as a hero.

Endeavor still sees himself as a hero in this situation. Dabi lives confronting the worst parts of himself (well he’s barely alive but still), he’s stich together scar tissue, and is covered in wounds. He is everything bad that has happened to him. But still, Dabi is at least AWARE.

Beyond all the other plot details, what he’s doing right now is confrontation of something that Endeavor was previously ignorant of. It’s the crux of Dabi’s speech to Endeavor. What he’s saying is pointing out the dark side of each of Endeavor’s good actions.

Endeavor becomes the number one hero, which means he finally gets all the praise, acclaim and honor he always thought he was entitled to. This doesn’t mean that Endeavor’s wish to become strong to serve as a supporting pillar for the nation was a lie, but what Dabi says also isn’t a lie either. It’s the hidden dark side of Endeavor’s actions which Endeavor does not acknowledge.

Endeavor wants to move on and act like a father to his children like twenty years after the fact, and coincidentally this also happens right after being handed everything he wanted on a silver platter. Dabi is pointing out, the negative sides of Endeavor’s actions. Aren’t you just being nice because you’ve gotten everything you’ve wanted now? Don’t you just think you deserve to have your children love you too?

Dabi is confronting Endeavor with the dark sides of actions so he can no longer remain blind, and he is literally in story an agent of the cosnequences of Endeavor’s actions. Dabi became a villain because Endeavor had a son for the sake of his own selfish desire to get stronger, cast him aside, and then even let Toya die. Even if Endeavor wants to move past that, Toya doesn’t. Because for Toya that defines his whole life. Toya was burned by either Endeavor’s flames, or the fire of his own quirk that Endeavor trained him to use. The reason Toya doesn’t move on is because for him, he can’t move on. Toya is dead. Toya died. Toya is some kind of zombie. And if not a zombie, Toya is dying. All because of what his father did to him. And he gets to see his father move on with his life. Everybody else gets to “Get over” his death with Toya, who is left behind.

Toya is a frankenstein’s monster, created by Endeavor, abandoned by Endeavor, let loose by Endeavor on the world. In the real world this would be a far more complicated question, but in a story, especially one that references frankenstein directly, Dabi is quite literally “Endeavor’s Monster” running amok. Dabi would not even exist if not for Endeavor’s actions.

Dabi doesn’t even know why he existed, or why he was brought into this world, because for him, all there’s been is pain. Pain enough to turn his hair white, and burn half of his skin off.

The same way Endeavor only sees the best of himself, Dabi only sees the worst of himself, the shadow. However, the difference between them is Dabi has grown up mostly in the dark.

Dabi is a reaction to circumstances. You can say it’s a bad reaction. You can say it’s not justified. You can call him a monster. You’re probably right, but still Dabi did not create those circumstances, Endeavor did, Dabi can only react to them. Dabi is a consequence to everything Endeavor did to his own family. It might be entirely Dabi’s choice how he reacts, and true Dabi did not have to choose to be a murderer, but Dabi also never deserved to be put into this situation in the first place.

If Dabi is responsible for his reaction, then Endeavor is equally responsible for creating him. It’s something Endavor has to confront, because this ignorance, this represion, it hurts people. Think of Endeavor’s actions a few chapters ago.

Shigaraki is another victim of an abusive father, just like Dabi. Shigaraki is also lashing out, and trying to bring down the hero society, just like Dabi. Endeavor right up until Dabi arrived, and revealed himself thought he was completely justified in wanting to kill Shigaraki for the sake of everyone. Up until five minutes ago, Endeavor only saw himself as the hero, the light, meant to vanquish the king of evil.

Endeavor was perfectly willing to kill Shigaraki up until five minutes ago, because he only saw him as a villain.

And now suddenly Dabi showed up and it got all complicated and shit. However, it was always complicated and shit. The villains were never objectively bad. The heroes were never objectively good. The world wasn’t as black and white as Endeavor saw it.

Now Endeavor’s good action (saving all of hero society as number one hero), requires something most people would consider to be objectively bad (putting down his own son).

The personal investment that Enji has in both Toya being his own son, and also his guilt over what he’s done to his family in the past, now make it impossible for Dabi to be just another villain.

Except Dabi is Shigaraki. Dabi is Shigaraki, Himiko, Twice, Shuichi (not compress tho he’s just in it for the drama of it all). The villains in this story are trying to draw the attention of the heroes to problems within society, problems that have negatively affected them, so they can be fixed. You can’t fix something if you’re blind to it. You can’t deal with something by ignoring it. Dabi’s confrontation isn’t only inevitable, it’s necessary for moving forward.

The shadow isn’t destroyed or ignored, it’s accepted, because in the end it’s a part of you. You are both everything good about you, and all of your flaws at the same time. Living as a fully rounded person means acknowledging that.

Enji’s development is about putting his selfish sense of entitlement aside and learning how his actions have impacted others. Here is Dabi, dancing around going “Hey, Dad, this is how your actions have impacted me. Look at my burns.”

Confrontation is good. The hurt feelings that have been repressed should be expressed.

If Enji had continued on being ignorant, he would have unknowingly torched his own son, and just seen him as another one of the villains. Isn’t that the worst possible result? Beyond hero and villain, isn’t a father killing his own son tragic?

Dabi’s personal revenge is wrong. His decision to lash out is wrong. His obvious desire to kill himself, and then his own father isn’t just wrong, it’s unhealthy. Trying to burn yourself alive and be a martyr to a cause because you think there’s no good reason for you to be alive, and you’re going to die anyway no matter what you do - is in fact a bad coping mechanism.

Dabi is wrong, however, ignoring what happened to him is also wrong. It’s all wrong. Trying to repress those hurt feelings is just as unhealthy a coping mechanism, as lashing out with them.

Dabi is all hurt feelings, yes, he can’t forgive and he can’t forget, but maybe some things like the past shouldn’t be forgotten. Rather than ignoring the past you can acknowledge it, learn from it, reincorporate it into who you are now, because the past is just as much of a part of the present as Dabi’s burnt skin and scars are a part of who he is now.

#todoroki touya #dabi #bnha spoilers #bnha 290 #mha spoilers #mha 290 #i love that i can use that tag now #touya todoroki #todoroki toya #toya todoroki #league of villains #mha meta #my hero academia theory #dabi is a todoroki #todoroki family drama

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

Text

X-Men Unabridged: 109 (1978)

The X-Men, those plant-loving mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(X-Men 109) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne

Ororo not noticing Moira casually drowning Banshee or Wolverine being punted around by some poutine-roided idiot because she’s too busy eating the Piotr-shaped eye candy is such a mood.

I wonder what my ethnic curse would be. Perhaps: ‘By Mata Hari’s bedazled bikini!’

Plot-wise, issue 109 is not that dense. Half the issue deals with the X-Men coming home from their space-adventures, the other half has Wolverine dealing with the Canadian government coming to claim their lost asset. I mean, Claremont uses three pages to tie up some loose Shi’ar ends through flashback because the last issue couldn’t fit it all in. It’s by its very definition a breather issue.

Doesn’t mean it’s not awesome.

WHERE TO START?! Why not with plant mommy Ororo?

Storm’s secondary mutation has to be that her hair always looks like a fabulous follicular cascade, even during an indoor spring shower.

Look, if I had weather powers, I’d probably be using it for mundane shit like watering my plants and ensuring nice weather at my friend’s weddings too. (Okay, maybe sometimes I’d zap dudes who tell random girls in bars to smile more.)

While Storm talks to plants and takes all her clothes off, Kurt does the other thing I do after a rough day at the office: he calls someone for some nookie.

I love that Amanda is so extra that she gives out signed photos of herself.

Kurt just looks so fucking cute here. Look at those little fangs! Yeah, Amanda, get it.

Like a lot of people to whom communication comes as easily as breathing, Piotr is defeated when faced with a blank letter. Look at that trash can: he’s tried this waaaaay too many times.

Anyway, I think “Sorry I haven’t been writing, was busy saving the universe. Weather’s lovely” has a nice ring to it.

Star Wars had been out for around half a year when this comic was published, and it’s safe to say Claremont was a huge fan. You can tell by the direction these comics are taken: the whole Shi’Ar space opera is obliquely inspired by Star Wars and Star Trek and their aesthetics. I mean, Corsair asks to be beamed up and there’s even references to a captain “Spo’ock”.

It was the end of the 70s. Everybody wanted to be a Skywalker: space was big, y’all. Nightcrawler loving the movies is not a coincidence - I wonder if Claremont was also a fan of Errol Flynn.

Anyway, we follow Kurt one more floor down, where he spooks Scott, brooding at the window. The result is an unintentionally hilarious interaction, where Scott and Kurt discuss Real Issues Like Men while Jean comes out to her parents outside.

“Mom and dad, I’m… the Phoenix.”

“Honey, we figured you might be when you introduced us to Misty Kn… Wait, what?”

To be fair, being possessed by a cosmic force for rebirth is almost the same as being gay: it imbues you with fabulous new insights, you start experimenting with your wardrobe and ever so often, you want to burn down the galaxy because some bitches in a gay club have slighted you.

But all that will come later.

Anyway, Jean’s kinda silly coming out leads to a pretty honest heart-to-heart between Nightcrawler and Cyclops. Scott tries to give Kurt grief because of his happy-go-lucky attitude, and Kurt gives him a deserved put-down.

Life can be unkind, Scotty, so embrace the kindness provided to you by a wise little devil.

Scott prefers to brood and Kurt is hanging with Amanda, so it’s a foursome - maybe even a double date? Moira and Sean, Piotr and Ororo. Logan asks for a ride - not because he wants to eat cheese and crackers among ants, no, he wants to blow off steam.

The X-Men’s chicken or egg: did Logan’s sideburns decide the shape of his headpiece, or did the headpiece shape his haircut?

I started reading the X-Men just when the Marvel Universe was starting to reach the height of Wolverine saturation: he was simply everywhere. Like, at some point, he was in X-Force and the Avengers while also being a Headmaster of the Jean Grey school. Add to that him being the face of the Fox X-Men universe… Listen, it was easy to get sick of him. I kind of did.

But this? Original flavor Wolverine, who’s still kinda short, kinda ugly and kinda stuck being a loner? He works as a character. Chris Claremont is beginning to explore his duality: the wild animal who has been experimented on vs. the honorable man who would do anything for his found family. He gives me major Granny Weatherwax vibes: he’s the kind of person who doesn’t need people, but he does need people to know that he doesn’t need people.

So yeah, he's still cool.

Also, his healing factor hasn’t been kicked to superhuman levels yet - you know, being able to regenerate from a single cell or whatever - so he actually feels kind of anxious when he’s about to toss himself off cliffs etc.

Not happy about that red belt, though.

Anyway, Wolverine is out doing the noble hunting-without-killing-thing, and then this motherfucker wrapped in a flag shows up. Look, I know I have something against dudes who brandish their nationality as their superhero identity, but this fool is just… ugh.

James MacDonald = the worst. Trust me on this.

Major MacMapleleaf then punts Wolverine across the forest, right into the other X-Men’s picnic, and now we’re all caught up.

Out of all the X-Men in this issue, Sean gets the least amount of screen time but, hey, at least I can steal a joke from him.

Don’t worry, despite the martyr/pièta pose, Moira will turn out just fine!

You weren’t worried?

Anyone?

Look, is there anyone who genuinely likes Moira as a character?

James Hudson, being the worst, doesn’t give a fuck that he just cross-fired an innocent woman - er, innocent as far as he knows, at least - and just nopes out of there, too outnumbered to fight the X-Men.

Yeah, you better run.

He vows to return with Alpha Flight, which… Eh, he’ll at least bring some more interesting characters with him. (Snowbird!) Now that he has sown enough seeds for a future plot to pick up on, Claremont calls it a day. I will also call it a day, after a little fashion watch. Out of all of these character, who has chosen the worst outfit?

Scott. It’s Scott. Look, I get that those ruby quartz glasses make the world a different color for you, but you’re wearing a mustard suit and a bespeckled yellow shirt underneath. Even when considering Moira’s attitude, it’s still the most stank thing in the doorway.

Sean, just what do you see in her?

#x-men #abridged x-men #x-men abridged #professor x #banshee #cyclops #phoenix #nightcrawler #storm #wolverine #colossus #moira mactaggert #chris claremont #john byrne #weapon alpha #alpha flight #lillandra #shi'ar #amanda sefton

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sisterssafespace · 3 years

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Salaam ukhti, I do not know what to do. I’ve been talking to a guy for a while now. My mother knows about him she’s happy for us to be wed. Alhamdulilah

So, this guy & I are from different cultures. I’m african he’s indian & I have no problem with that. In terms of his deen he’s perfect for me. The last step was for him to meet my father; I spoke to my father before they met told him he’s asian not african. He seemed completely okay with it at the time. Anyway, on the day he rang him and he hung up to call me. He said a lot of negative things I won’t repeat.

But, my issue is that he didn’t even try to meet him because of his ethnicity? The worse part is I have a strained relationship with him already (we don’t live together). So, the fact he couldn’t even meet a prospective guy for me his daughter his youngest child makes it worse.

Ever since then, we haven’t been speaking and he’s being really rude to me. Constantly making sly remarks about me because he asked what I did. I was angry because he knows he put me in a horrible situation. Since I had to go back to the guy to tell him my father couldn’t come because of an ‘emergency’.

My mother came up with the solution of her older brother going to meet the guy instead. To be honest, I understand why because my uncle speaks better english so they can communicate which I’m grateful for. But, it’s upsetting knowing my dad didn’t even try and I do not know if my uncle can even mehr me if my dad doesn’t say yes.

- ☁️

Assalamualaikum wa rahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu dear sister, I hope you are feeling better by the time you are reading this.

Let me start by saying that your ask hit a not close to home for I can relate on some points. Allahu al'mustaān.

Now, before getting into the story, let me just answer your last question about whether your uncle (brother to your mom) could marry you, if your father doesn't cooperate. Well, I know I clarified in the bio and the opening post that this page doesn't give fatwahs but this is not a fatwah as the fatwah is already there and all over the internet , and it's ' common knowledge ' unfortunately no, the brother of the mother doesn't have the authority to marry the girl off in Islam. In fact, there is a sequence or list of ' wali-s ' who can marry her and in case the father wasn't capable of doing that, then it is the paternal grandfather, then the brother, then the half brother (from her father's side), then her father's brother, then her father's half-brother, then her paternal cousin (son of her father's brother), then son of her father's half-brother, then in case all of them are not available or they don't agree, then it's taken up to the Judge. See, there is no family member from the mother's side in that lineage. Just to be clear.

However, we should consider alllllll the other options that you have before thinking of the worst case scenario, sis. Because even if your father wasn't the greatest man and you don't have the strongest relationship with him, you don't want to start this important chapter of your life on the wrong foot, by upsetting him more, or ruining your chances to fix things with him. It will only complicate the situation more. And keep in mind: it is not permissible to get married without a wali, as prophet Muhammad ﷺ said : There is no marriage without the permission of a guardian.

Now let's see what we are dealing with, I don't know the reasons why your father is having this position - but one can only imagine.. However, Islam is innocent from all these ideologies, interracial and mixed marriage were never a problem in Islam and Allah swt and his Prophet ﷺ never forbid nor advised against marrying someone from a different ethnicity. In fact, the Prophet ﷺ said : "When someone whose religion and character you are pleased with proposes to (someone under the care) of one of you, then marry to him. If you do not do so, then there will be turmoil (Fitnah) in the land and abounding discord (Fasad)."

So, if the only reason why your father is not approving of this marriage is that the potential partner is from a different ethnicity, then your father is in the wrong and he will be accountable on his part. But there isn't much you can do without his approval. So what can you do instead? Is there any uncles from your father's side? A grandfather? An authoritarian family member? Or your local Imam or someone that your father actually values and listens to that you can actually talk to? To convince him to at least give the man a chance? And yes your uncle from your mother's side could talk to the guy and get to know him and maybe then he could tell your father about his qualities and how he is in shaa Allah a perfect fit for you, but again, he can't marry you off.

Now, I am sharing with you the feedback of a sister who is Alhamdulillah in a mixed marriage, she has been thru your experience and is now Alhamdulillah happily married, may Allah bless her and her family : "I understand her pain. They're judging him before even meeting him.. I don't know if there's much she can do tho. I think it's most likely that her father needs time to get used to the idea. He didn't expect her to marry out of the culture, that's a hard pill to slick for a lot of elder people. The advice I can give is to give it time and pray for it. Intercultural relationships is almost normal for our generation but it isn't for the generations before us. We have to keep that in consideration.

Also, if her uncle gets to meet the guy, maybe he can tell her father how great he is especially when it comes to deen. And her mother knows her father the best, she can eventually also speak in on his mindset and make him see that he's wrong to judge someone he hasn't even met.

I pray that her father 'wakes up' and realizes that culture doesn't matter. The only thing that will bring them to jannah, is their deen, and alhamdulillah he's perfect for her deen-wise. May Allah ease their affairs and bring them together in marriage. ❤️"

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

I will finish with this meaningful insight from islamqa.org "While family members may think they are acting in the best interest of their children, there are many cases in which the refusal of parents is based on incorrect presumptions and understandings that stem from their own, distinct experiences and contexts that their children may not necessarily share.

In such cases, if someone does believe they have genuinely found someone suitable for marriage, whether from a different race/culture or not, and their parents still prove to be difficult, they should try to convince them with wisdom and tact, and take all appropriate means to make them see the merits of the decision.

Parents certainly have a right to be concerned about the future of their children, but since it is not the parents entering into the marriage, children also need to make sure they are not being forced into decisions that will adversely effect them in the future."

And most importantly (from the same source) "You should know that marriages are destined by Allah, All-Wise. So if this marriage is facilitated for you, then it will happen, and if not, then it won’t. And in either case, there is wisdom behind this that you are not aware of, so you should pray salat al-istikharah for ease in this matter if it should be good for you. It is best that you take the path of benevolence and kindness in these kinds of issues and don’t rush things lest you aggravate the problems."

To conclude, my dear sister, I KNOW that when we are inn love/ or when we start getting attached to someone, we let our imagination run wild, we build hopes and dreams involving them, we want to be with them asap and we let ourselves get carried away, I know for a fact that you'd want to rush things and just get married to this guy and get it over with, I feel you, I relate to you, I understand you perfectly. But sometimes that's not how life works for a) there's Allah's timing for everything and b) there's Allah's plan for us. We think we are choosing and we think we are planning but it's just an illusion, at the end of the day it's only Allah's plan that works. That's why I pray that your choice matches what Allah swt has already chosen for you, and your plan confirms with Allah's plan for you. Please please please pray Istikhara times and times and times again, tell your guy to pray Istikhara as well, and sis, duāa is your only way out of this. Try to pray Tahajjud (night prayer) if you can, I heard a saying a while ago that anyone who has any need from Allah swt should never miss a Tahajjud prayer. In the quiet of the last third of the night, when everyone else is sleeping, just you and your broken words and you crying heart sincerely and humbling asking for Allah's help and guidance. It works miracles ✨

In shaa Allah kheir my dear, may Allah swt guide you, and bring what's kheir for you closer, and grant you what your heart is wishing for. May Allah swt have mercy on your heart and not allow it to be broken over this matter. Ameen. 🤍

- A. Z. 🍃

#I'd like to thank my two beautiful sisters for their input on this ask #marriage things #marriage proposal #marriage proposal in islam #mixed marriage in islam #interractial marriage in islam #asks

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 4 years

Text

Hero

A/N: (Y/N) is Number eight of the Umbrella Academy siblings. Her power is that she can make people feel things when she looks at them. From pain over warmth to relief. It has been of help to her siblings many times aready. But sometimes it is more fun to mess with them. And that is easily done...

- Diego is having a broody moment in Elliot’s house after the dinner with your father and you are trying to cheer him up now. -

word count: 2780

characters: Diego, (Y/N)

You found Diego lying on Elliott’s bed, a knife between his fingers, his eyes focused on the way he was twirling it around.

He didn’t seem very happy all in all. He had taken a real beating to his self-confidence from his father and you could tell that he was trying not to let it hit too hard to home. Yet it did. And he wasn’t that good at working through those feelings all by himself, had never been. Isolating himself from the others who were cooking in the kitchen was just one way to avoid having anyone else notice his gloom. While some of the others might think it better to leave Diego alone and let him sort it all out, you didn’t share that point of view.

Quietly you closed the door behind you after you had entered the room. You wrapped your arms around yourself, cleared your throat and looked at your brother carefully. He was already looking at you, his lips curled into a very small smile as his eyebrows were raised expectantly. You could see and feel the sadness he was trying so hard to swallow.

“(Y/N),” He addressed you softly while looking at the knife in his hands again, “I know what you will try to do. You don’t have to. Go on, get back to the others. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Sadly you sighed, your shoulders moving up and down very harshly. In your head, you tried to find the right words to say to him, just anything to get him some relief. You knew he didn’t like it when you used your power on him without consent and you could totally understand that. It just made you crazy that you could so easily help him and he didn’t want it.

“Diego, I-”

“Really, (Y/N), I don’t want you to burden yourself with my- ... feelings. You always try to make everything okay for all of us. And you don’t have to. Some things we just have to figure out by ourselves. I’m just starting to understand that-”

“Would you... shut up for a second?” You said loudly, frustrated by his endless babbling that only made it more and more obvious to you just how small Diego was feeling at the very moment.

He stopped mid-sentence and closed his mouth with a gentle huff. His brown eyes were full of love for you, as they always had been. Still, you were getting the feeling that Diego really was changing. He wasn’t quite as defensive as he usually had been before the 60s. He was trying to work through his defenses to be able to openly show you all more of his love, compassion and trust. That was good. Still, he didn’t have to do it all by himself. Protecting everyone he loved didn’t mean he couldn’t be protected in return.

With another sigh, you walked over to the bed and settled down on the side of it, your face turned towards your brother over your shoulder. He was making more space for you, a slightly tenser expression in his eyes now that he realized you weren’t gonna drop the issue so easily.

“Listen,” you started, turning your face forward again to look at the nervous fingers in your lap, “what Dad said to you was ... it was ... “

Fighting with the words in your head, you looked at him again, despair in your eyes, while you saw the sadness color is own gaze more clearly now.

“Diego, it was complete idiocy!” You exclaimed, anger blooming between your eye brows like a dark flower. “It was the stupidest thing I ever heard an old man say and you know that Five can say some pretty stupid things. You are a hero. You have been always been my hero. I mean, not just mine, but mine in a way you weren’t to others. You were so cool, you never said no when I asked you to pin my stupid Umbrella themed socks to a wall with your knives.”

He chuckled softly at the memory, a bit of his sadness making room for better emotions.

“You always try to do the right thing.” You continued, daring to look at his face again. “You protect people. Not just your family, but other families as well. I mean if that’s not something to be proud of, what is, right?”

Diego’s lip was wavering slightly and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing, but it seemed to you like he was less burdened by self-depricating thoughts than before. You nodded to yourself and tried to decide whether it would be good to take his hand when he made the decision for you. It moved you when Diego’s fingers gently closed around your own, stopping your nervous fumbling and making you look at him.

“And you think you need your power to make people feel better?” His eyes were glowing with fondness, something that happened more often lately than it had before. It was a good change. It was precious.

“Oh,” you made, dropping your face in your other hand with a relieved smile, your cheeks slightly darker than before, “man, I wasn’t sure what the hell to say to make you feel better, but it was all the truth and I’m glad if that reminded you of how great you actually are.”

Diego raised his eye-brows meaningfully and grinned at you. “Yeah, I know, I’m amazing, right?”

“Ooookay, apparently that was a bit too much. Next time I’ll just use my power on you again.” You tried to get up off the bed with a laugh, when Diego pulled you back by your hand, exclaiming his disagreement loudly while also tousling your hair in a playful manner. You were pulling at you arm to get away, when you had an idea all of a sudden. With a smirk you focused on your brother and sent a nice little feeling his way.

He squeaked in a very uncharacteristic manner and pulled his arm back, letting go of your wrist in the process. You snickered to yourself as he gaped at you with an open mouth. This had always been your favorite part of your power when it came to your siblings. You could make them feel better, yes, that didn’t take much effort. But you could also make them feel other things. Maybe take a little detour and cheer them up in a process that took a little longer...

Diego knew just what you had in mind. And he was not in favor of it. That wasn’t very surprising, considering how ticklish he was...

“Don’t you do it.” You saw the glint in Diego’s eyes as he warningly pointed a finger at you. “I swear my revenge will be devastating.”

You barely were able to hold back a grin at his words, rememebering all the tickle fights you had already lost against your beloved brother. Once he hit the right spots, you were out of the game, unable to focus on your power anymore and closing your eyes too much to really use it anyway. He knew just where he had to tickle to make you squeeze your eyes shut and laugh your head off. That was one of the best and worst things about having a brother.

“I can see you smile in that veeeery unsettling way and I tell you no. You will not have fun with it, (Y/N), I swear this time you will regret every single ticklish feeling you send my way because I will tickle you so hard in return you will- GAHH!!”

“You are in a really babbly mood today, aren’t you?” You asked with an innocent smile as Diego started twitching away from invisible hands.

“Plehease don’t!” He giggled when your power started stroking all over his ticklish spots. “Please no tickles! I’m a grown ass mahahan, (Y/N)!!”

“Just a little bit of it right over here.” You grinned when Diego threw himself onto his back on the bed as your tickle mojo circled around his middle. He wrapped his arms around his torso in an attempt to stop the ticklish feeling, but it was useless. He couldn’t stop it and he knew that very well. He had always been your favorite when it came to using that special side effect of your powers. Probably because it had always worked so well on him when it came to a good cheer up.

Laughing so hard his cheeks started to glow in a cute rose color Diego now curled into a tiny ball and hit the sheets with his feet.

“SthaAAHAHAHAP, (Y/N)!! I’M OKAY I SWEEHHEEAR I AM!! NO MOHOHORE BAD MOODS I PROHOHOHMISE!!!” He shrieked with laughter when your tickles reached his upper ribs, poking, prodding and scratching all simultaneously as you just sat there and smirked at your brother’s strong reaction to the tickling.

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad. This is bad!” You chuckled as your brother started kicking much harder when you jumped on top of him and added your own hands to his sides while your mojo focused completely on his armpits, keeping his useless elbows pinned to his ribs in an attempt to protect himself. He was laughing so hard his eyes stayed squeezed shut and his hair started to get real tousled from him rubbing his head all over the pillow.

You were just pinching his ribs, when Allison opened the door and crossed her arms in front of her chest, clearing her throat audibly. You whipped your head around and lost your focus on your brother for a second. Enough time for Diego to grab you and pin you to his chest with your back against his pecs.

“ALLISON!!” You yelled and immediately tried to worm out of Diego’s embrace so that you could get a good look at him again and continue where you had been so rudely interrupted.

“Oh, how the tables have turned!” Diego murmurred in your ear with a rough laugh and you immediately knew your were doomed.

“Sorry, sis, but saving Diego is the least of an apology I can offer him right now after the way I acted during the... dinner.” She said, unusually soft, making your brother breathe differently for a second. He was just as surprised as you were. Positively so.

“Totally accepted.” He said to Allison, unusually soft as well, making you start kicking harder again. This was ridiculous. Diego was the one who needed some cheering up. You hadn’t signed up for immediate revenge.

“YOU CAN START THINKING OF AN APOLOGY FOR ME RIGHT NOW, ALLISON, YOU HEAR ME!!” You were trashing around way too much, you knew that, it was futile anyway and Diego was only waiting for you to be too weak to fight back properly anymore.

Allison chuckled and leaned down a little to direct her next words at you. “My apology? I won’t rumor you to be more ticklish than you already are, how about that?”

Your eyes widened and your struggles died down for a second. You bit your bottom lip and said. “Yeah please don’t do that...”

Diego laughed at that and growled into your ear, making it impossible for you not to giggle at the slight tickle his beard was producing on your neck.

Allison chuckled as well and started turning around to leave the room again. “No, you’d definitely be a goner if I did that. Have fun, guys.”

“No. ALLISON! DON’T LEAVE ME! NA- GAHAHAHAD NOOOO!! DIEGOOOO!!”

You knew Allison had left the door open on purpose. It probably felt a bit like the good parts of home to your siblings to hear you and Diego have a tickle fight. The sound of the laughter of you two must have been quite nice and reassuring to them. Wonderful. Couldn’t they have had the same response to Diego’s wheezing before?

“Oh, I told you, little sis. This is gonna tickle.” Diego buried his face in your neck and blew a long raspberry, accompanied by the general ticklishness of his beard on your skin while his hands were worming their way under your arms to heighten the ticklish effect even more.

You were an instant mess, your laughter completely out of control as he wrecked you like back in the old days. You couldn’t say that you hated it. You didn’t, despite the struggle you put into your fight against him. You just felt too loved and cherished as his sparkling eyes focused on getting just the right spots and his playful growls showed how much he enjoyed making you laugh like that. Well, maybe you had been in need of a good tickle. Still, it was an outrage that Diego still called you his “little” sister despite you having told him time and time again that you were all the same age.

In an attempt to make him laugh again you tried to fight back by skittering your nails down his ribs when you saw an opening, but he had the upper hand now and easily pushed your hand away before it had the chance to weaken him enough.

“PLEHEHHEASE!! THIS IS MEHEHHEEAN!!”

“Oh, you calling this mean, sweetheart?” Diego chuckled and managed to pin one of your arms down to the mattress, proceeding to tickle you even harder than before with his free hand, five fingers digging right into the spots that made you squeal. “You know what’s mean, is when you’re helpless like this, that’s mean.”

“STAHAHHAP!! DIEGOO PLEHEHEHEASE!!!”

“Just a little bit right over here!” He mimicked your words from earlier and turned you on your back to get at your stomach. You tried to get a good look at him to summon your powers again, but it was no use. You just couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Defeat had to be called when he managed to lift your shirt just the littlest bit and blew a raspberry right on your side. You were screeching with laughter, pushing at his head and trying harder than before to weasel out of his embrace, but it didn’t work. He just kept dipping his head down to brush your belly with his beard and blow tiny raspberries all over the sensitive skin, until all you yould muster in coherent words was “OVER GAME OVER SOLDIER DOWN”.

He actually had mercy then, a sweet smile on his face, as he put his chin up on his hands and crossed them over your belly. You rubbed at your face and groaned. But despite trying to, you could’t keep from laughing a little more, making your brother chuckle as well and playfully bury his face in your stomach. That feeling was enough to make you squeak again which made him lift his head up quickly, a big smile on his features.

“We’re a little sensitive now, huh?”

You mustered your strength and moved closer to ruffle through his hair very wildly with both your hands, making him sigh dramatically and say “Okay, you’re asking for this!” before he buried his face in your stomach again and went back to squeezing your sides with his hands. This time you didn’t last ten seconds before you could barely breathe anymore and tried to pull his hands off of your skin, your laughter adorably tired by now. He moved his head away soon and took his hands off of your ticklish spots with a clear offering of peace on his pleased face. “You had about enough, you little toad?”

You nodded with a giggly wheeze and rubbed at your eyes as he climbed off of you, huffing gently to himself. He scrambled up on the mattress to drop on his back next to you and sent you an affectionate glance. It all felt way too embarrassing to you now that it was over and you hid your face behind your hands with a groan.

“Don’t look at me!”

“Oh, come on,” He laughed and nudged you carefully, “I get to win too once in a while, or don’t I?”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and couldn’t keep from grinning now as well.

“Attagirl.” He gently nudged your chin with his fist and your smile grew.

You took your hands away from your face and quickly buried it in his chest, as you threw your arms over his body and snuggled up to him. He let out a loud breath when your knee hit him in the stomach, but merely patted it with a gentle laugh once you were settled and nestled.

“Diego?”

“Hmm?”

“You still are my hero.”

He made a pleased noise and entangled one of his leg with yours. “Even though I am a ticklish hero?”

You smirked into his shirt. “Definitely.”

#diego hargreeves #tua #ticklish!diego #tickling #fluff #tua fluff #imagine #(y/n)#hargreeves siblings #david castaneda #tua fanfic #tickle fanfic

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nefariouscryptid · 3 years

Note

here's a fun one: dare you to do the entirety of that list with a character of your choice >:3c

Gotta do it with my boy Peter!

1. What is one word to shut them up?

Murray

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about?

He’s not torn up about it or anything but he feels bad about what happened to Mary, or what could of happened to her.

3. What is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced?

Getting your face and eye slashed open is pretty painful.

4. Describe their worst nightmare.

With his job being kidnapped and tortured is pretty plausible. He thinks about that one a lot.

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear.

Surface: the ocean

Repressed: being taken advantage of without his knowing. Reminds him of his childhood.

Deep Dark: losing Jason in any form. He’s be a broken man left to his own devices, and his own safety would be completely compromised.

6. What is something that never fails to make them feel sick?

Gunshot wounds and deep cuts. He cringes at those.

7. What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves?

Physically he’s not a big fan of the scars he has or his general face structure but it’s not enough to keep him up at night. Mentally he doesn’t like how he gets when triggered and how easily it is to trigger him.

8. Do they have anything that triggers them?

Certain physical sensations but mainly what others do to him, such as rubbing their thumb on his hand, whispering behind him into his ear, stroking his hair while he’s standing, and certain phrases. If a woman talks seductively to him it’s easy for him to get triggered, but when men do it it’s a lot less frequent unless certain phrases are said. Country music is a big no go but he can listen to old country.

9. What is their greatest physical weakness?

He’s half blind and slowly going blind in the other eye

10. What is their greatest mental weakness?

How willing he is to throw everything away for someone (his Jason) and his apathy after the accident makes him blind to potential dangers.

11. Do they have any vices?

Smokes a lot of weed, used to be a heavy drinker but quit, did a lot of coke and before Durante starts he had just managed to escape a meth addiction.

12. Have they ever done something illegal? What was it?

His whole life is illegal. His worst crime would have to be aiding in terrorism

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them?

Greed and lust

14. Are they prone to outbursts (of violence, extreme emotion… exc… )?

Yes but he’s quick to calm himself down, and Jason can calm him near instantly.

15. Who do they hate the most?

Kind of hard to say, he hates a lot of people. He hates his parents but he’s since moved on as much as one could from them, he hates Anahii but he finds ways to tolerate her existence, and he hates Ivan for what he did to him but his breakdown made it impossible for him to really plan any retaliation other then killing his wife.

16. Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior?

Not that I can think of

17. What sound always gives them a headache?

Women’s voices lol. Mainly naggy ones.

18. Is there a certain flavor that disgusts them?

Hates bitterness

19. Do they consider themselves ugly?

Honestly yes, sees himself as a butterface.

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable?

Yes but it’s manifested and internalized more subtly and masked.

21. What is something that causes them great anxiety?

Broken glass and lack of contact with people he needs to be with.

22. Do they have any mental illnesses?

I’m not going to diagnose him specifically with anything. But short answer yes a lot.

23. Have they ever been assaulted/abused/raped?

Raped multiple times by his mom as a child, beaten by his dad, and you could call his and Anahiis marriage abusive.

24. Do they fear the possibility of being assaulted/abused/raped?

He feels he can defend himself better and stay out of situations where that would happen but it’s in the back of his head.

25. Have they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust?

His parents

26. Have they ever been seriously injured?

Other then his face he has been shot before in the chest.

27. How many times have they been in the hospital?

About 7 times not including doctor visits after an injury (checkups)

28. Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them?

There isn’t really any person that disgusts him on a moral aspect. There’s people that he thinks are absolutely retarded and blind, but no one really makes him recoil.

29. Does what they cannot see scare them?

No, he pretty much knows it all

30. Have they ever been bullied?

Yes a lot in his school years.

31. Do they have self-confidence or self-image issues?

Yes but it doesn’t stop him from putting on a facade. Like I said early, it manifests differently.

32. Do they have a bad relationship with their parents?

He wishes he killed them.

33. Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well?

Anahii lol

34. Have they ever self harmed?

Yes

35. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

If he can’t change the whole lot he won’t change any.

36. Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them?

He’s in control of his emotions for the most part.

37. Have they ever had their freedom taken away?

Sort of. He’s been in many holding cells and was in jail at one point.

38. Have they ever been imprisoned?

Yes

39. Have they ever been accused of something they didn’t do?

Many times but he’s been able to prove his innocence

40. Do they often blame themselves for other people’s problems?

Depends on the situation. He won’t blame himself he the problem can’t be directly linked to him.

41. Do they get sick often?

He gets eye infections sometimes but not much.

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?

Fuck no lol but least he’s well off financially

43. Do they wish that they could change their pasts?

Doesn’t do him good to do so, so no

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?

Take a break. He’s love to run away from his life with Jason but he knows they’re both too greedy to do so, even without being trapped.

45. What is the emotion they most commonly experience?

I would say apathy but it’s hard to explain. Other then that, yearning.

46. Have they ever contemplated suicide?

He’s attempted a few times in his life.

47. Have they ever gone so far as to attempt suicide?

Yes

48. Is there anyone that they would willingly kill?

His parents, Ivan if his job allowed it, Anahii if he’d have a chance, literally anyone Jason dates, whoever took Mary

49. If [name] was put into ______ situation, they’d rather die than live to see it through.

If Peter had to see Jason die, get tortured, have to kill him, or any other variation.

50. Create your own!

Would history repeat itself if he had children?

He’s observant and understands himself enough to see the patterns of his parents in him. Since he would love his children deeply he would be able to stop himself from being like his parents towards them, but he wouldn’t be perfect.

#alex banters #asks #chad tag #peter durante #my ocs #ask meme

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aggieadventuress · 4 years

Text

I’m Okay, I Promise. Except I’m Lying.

by @aggieadventuress for @romeoandjulietyouwish for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark

Summary: 5 times Peter told Tony he didn’t want to be touched +1 time Tony didn’t listen.

Read on ao3:

Peter jolted awake in bed, panting from the adrenaline of his nightmare and soaked with sweat. He tried to orient himself but he hadn’t smacked his head on the top bunk like normal and clearly this wasn’t his bed, it was too soft. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the city outside their apartment walls and he felt completely lost for a few moments before realizing that he was in the guest bedroom at Mr. Stark's lake house. Because it had been 5 years, and he didn’t have a set of bunk beds in their apartment in Queens. Because May didn’t live in that apartment anymore, she lived in Manhattan. With Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark’s head of security but more importantly, her boyfriend.

He was staying at the lake house for the summer while May and Happy were off on some relief worker trip. As bad as things were in New York after the second snap, a lot of countries were even worse off and May, ever the philanthropist, had to help. She originally wasn't going to go when her hospital brought up the opportunity, worried about Peter, but he assured her he would be fine because he didn't want to stand in the way of her helping people who really needed it. He was fine, or was at least close to fine. Or, he was getting to be close to fine.

Peter could not let himself spiral further into his state of panic, it was hard enough to breathe already, he needed to focus on doing that right now. He stared down into his lap, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. In and out, that’s all he needed to do.

Peter was so focused on controlling his breathing that he didn’t hear the creak of the door as someone walked into his bedroom. He felt the dip of the bed next to him though and turned his head to the side to verify who he already knew it was.

Mr. Stark was wearing plaid pajama pants and a worn AC/DC shirt and had clearly actually been asleep, which was so different from the man Peter had known before the snap. Before Mr. Stark would have been wide awake, wired on caffeine and inventing something crazy in his lab, but that just showed how much had changed.

Before either of them had time to speak, a bleary-eyed Morgan appeared in the doorway.

“Peter? Daddy? Are you okay?” Morgan asked, drowsily rubbing a fist at one of her eyes still half-asleep.

“I’m fine Morgs, I’m sorry for waking you up,” Peter replied, his stomach clenching with guilt for disturbing her.

“You didn’t wake me up, Daddy did. He was being loud in the hallway talking to Friday so I wanted to see,” Morgan said.

That didn’t make Peter feel much better, because whether he had directly woken Morgan or Friday and Tony had woken her up while discussing him, which is what he assumed would have been happening, it was still his fault.

Morgan came into the room and crawled up on the bed on the side of Peter that Tony wasn’t occupying. “Did you have a bad dream?” She asked innocently and then without waiting for a response, “I have bad dreams sometimes. You should ask daddy for a hug. That will fix it.” Morgan spoke pragmatically as if the solution to all of Peter’s problems was that simple.

“Kids right, I’ve been known to have pretty spectacular hugs. Can scare away all of the monsters within a three-mile radius,” Tony deadpanned, but his tone was betrayed by the small smile on his face.

Morgan nodded vehemently in agreement with her dad’s statement. “It’s true,” she added seriously, “I’ve never once seen a monster while daddy was holding me. I’ve never even felt scared if I was in his arms.”

“I have,” Peter muttered under his breath, thinking it was too quiet to hear and still staring at his sheets so he didn’t see the absolutely crestfallen look on Tony’s face at his confession. Tony knew immediately what Peter was talking about. The kid had dissolved in his arms on an alien planet and no amount of hugging would ever make the fear from that memory go away.

“Could I at least try?” Tony asked, moving in for a hug, but pausing when Peter flinched and moved away from him.

“No thanks. I mean, I’d rather you didn’t…I mean, I’m fine. I really don’t want a hug right now. I actually could use a little bit of space. A few minutes, just to myself. Please.”

Tony dropped his arms slowly to his sides and stood from the bed. “Of course, whatever you need Peter. But it’s a standing offer, free hugs whenever you want them. Day or night. It’s the same for Morgan, I’m always available.

Peter nodded but his gaze had returned to his lap. Tony reached out a hand as if to pat him on the shoulder but then thought better of it. He wasn’t a psychologist but after all of the trauma Peter had been through, he figured it was a completely valid response to want space right now. He needed to respect that, as much as it killed him to watch his kid suffer. He just wanted to pull him into his arms and hold him tight until all of his pain melted away, but that wasn’t an option if it wasn’t what Peter wanted.

“Well, I’m going to take the princess…” Tony started to say.

“I was promoted to Prime Minister daddy, you know that,” Morgan interrupted exasperated.

“Sorry, of course. I am going to take the Prime Minister back to her own bed now, do you think you can try to get back to sleep?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded into his lap again and Tony couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him seeing how dejected Peter was.

“Right,” He said, not believing Peter for a second, “well if you can’t, let me know and we can watch a movie or something. I hear 2 am is the best time to watch Star Wars.” When even that didn’t elicit more than a grunt of response, he knew it was time to let it go and give Peter the space he so clearly wanted.

“Come along Madame Prime Minister,” Tony said, scooping Morgan into his arms and carrying her through the door.

“I answer to your Royal Lordship now,” Peter heard Morgan explain from the hallway on the way back to her room.

“I’ve been thinking that I should take over the world. I think people would be a lot happier as my royal subjects then they are right now. And Gerald has said he would be my Vice Queen and I think he’d do a pretty good job. Mommy can be an advisor and I think you would make a very good royal train conductor. Did you know that an engineer is another word for a train conductor?”

“Thanks, Morgana, but I think you should wait until your a little older to start planning your world domination. Mull it over a bit more. It’d be awfully time consuming and I don’t know that you’d have time to host your famous tea parties.”

“Your probably right. I’m much too busy to be a ruler right now.”

Peter lay back in his bed, still wide-awake, staring at his ceiling and listening to the conversation Tony and Morgan were having as the man tried to put her back to bed. He ached to let the man hold him and comfort him like he did Morgan. He wanted to let his mentor wrap his arms around him like some sort of shield from the realities of the world. But he couldn’t have that. He was too broken and too damaged to let Tony touch him - to let anyone touch him right now. If he gave in and let Tony hold him, Peter knew that little bit of comfort would make him fall apart and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put himself back together again.

He was caught up in his own self deprecating thoughts and didn’t immediately notice when Tony reappeared in his doorway.

“So what’s the plan, sleep or movie? I am absolutely down for either,” Tony offered quietly.

“I’ll just go back to sleep I think. Thanks for the offer though,” Peter answered, exhaustion making his voice sound hoarse.

Tony looked at him appraisingly, seemingly trying to decide if he was going to let this go or if he was going to push the issue. “Okay, well if you need anything, just come get me, or if you don’t want to, ask Friday. I don’t usually sleep much anyway so don’t worry that you might wake me, I’ll probably be working or something anyway,” Tony tried to comfort Peter, but he saw through the offer. He knew Tony actually did sleep now that he had his own kid and a somewhat normal life, but he appreciated that the lie was supposed to help ease his guilt.

Tony hesitated in the doorway and then turned to go. He stopped a few steps into the hallway and turned back to look at Peter. Peter met his eyes for the first time that night.

“Peter, you can talk to me about anything,” Mr. Stark’s voice was pleading, “You know that, right?”

Peter nodded and then moved to lay back down under his covers and added, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 2 -

It was Friday and Peter had been at the lake house for five days and hadn’t slept through the night for any of them. He had explicitly told Friday not to inform Mr. Stark when he had a nightmare but either she hadn’t listened, or the man had some sort of sixth sense because he would always come. Before Peter could orient himself and catch his breath, Mr. Stark would be there. They had fallen into a routine of sorts; the man would sit next to him in silence for a few minutes while Peter collected himself. If Peter was having a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark would breathe really deeply, slowly, encouraging Peter to copy him. Once he had calmed down a bit, Mr. Stark would ask him if he wanted to talk and Peter would always say no. After the second night when Mr. Stark had tried to put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Peter had violently flinched away and ended up tumbling out of his bed, Mr. Stark had kept his distance. Peter wanted to scream in frustration at how much he wanted to give in and just accept a stupid hug, but he couldn’t. Mr. Stark would always offer to stay with him or to go down to the living room or something, but Peter always sent him away, and the man always reluctantly listened.

Apparently, Friday night was movie night, and Morgan had made it very clear that his participation was not optional, no matter how exhausted he was, so that is how Peter found himself standing just outside the living room on the verge of a complete panic attack. The Starks were all sitting on the couch, Morgan between Pepper and Tony, and they had clearly left a space for him on Tony’s other side. Fortunately, everyone was focused forward on the television discussing the movie selection so no one noticed Peter staring at the couch and having an internal freak-out about whether or not he could actually handle sitting that close to Mr. Stark.

Finally, he decided to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the room and made to walk over there. His movement caught Tony’s eye.

“Hey kid, come sit with us,” he offered, patting the empty cushion next to him.

“Yah Petey, come sit with us,” Morgan echoed.

“No thank Morgs,” Peter opted to respond to her instead of Tony, hoping it would be easier. “I take up a lot of space so I’m going to claim this whole chair for myself.”

Morgan squinted her eyes and stared at him as if trying to assess if this was an acceptable explanation or if she found his “a lot of space” determination to be accurate. He must have passed her inspection because she didn’t look happy, but she eventually nodded and turned back toward the TV.

Tony was not so easy to appease and the man stared at Peter with a questioning look in his eyes. Peter wanted to tell him that he was afraid to sit next to him in case he relaxed too much and fell asleep. He was afraid that if he curled up in that corner of the couch, so close to the protective embrace of his mentor, he might be able to breathe a little better and abate his anxiety just for a bit. If he let himself sleep, he would dream, and if he dreamt, he’d be on Titan again and he just couldn’t handle it right now. He had adjusted to the near constant state of tension in his body and knew better than to all of a sudden let himself relax.

He broke eye contact with Mr. Stark, settled into the arm chair, and turned to face the TV. Now that he was seated Morgan instructed Friday, “Play the Incredibles, Friday!” And the movie started.

Peter could barely focus on the screen because he was so tired. Despite his distance, he could hear the comforting, steady beating of Mr. Stark’s heart underneath the noise of the movie. Combined with the dim lighting in the room and the very comfortable chair he was curled up in, keeping his eyes open was a battle. Each blink lasted a bit longer than the one before until his eyes slid shut and stayed closed.

The moment he drifted to sleep in the Stark’s living room, he ‘awoke’ in the dark void of the soul stone. Alone. Completely alone. The nightmare tormented him with the feeling of dust coating his nose and mouth, with the sticky heat from his suit and with the familiar panic of being lost and abandoned in a sea of nothing. He had no concept of how much time passed in his dream, but in the midst of the nothingness, he felt an arm beneath his knees and another under his back, and then he was being lifted in the air. Peter abruptly awoke from his dream and jerked away from whatever was holding him and tumbled to the ground, his head smacking into the wooden floor with a loud ‘crack.’

“Christ kid, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Tony dropped to his knees next to Peter, his hands reaching out for the boy to check for injuries before he stopped himself and put them up in the air in front of him as if to show he meant no harm. “The movie was over and you were asleep. You’ve looked so tired lately and I didn’t want to wake you. I was just going to carry you up to your own bed. I thought that would be more comfortable. Pepper just took Morgan upstairs. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize you were having a nightmare. Although I should have guessed.” Tony said the last part more to himself.

Peter was still lying on the ground but pushed himself up so he was resting on his elbows. “It’s not your fault. Thanks for waking me, I can take myself to bed though,” Peter said and then pushed himself the rest of the way up. He swayed on his feet for a few moments and Tony’s hand hovered just below his elbow, ready to catch him, but he regained his balance after a moment.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice sounded desperate as he pled with Peter, “I want to help you. I know that you have been through so much, so much more than anyone should ever have to go through, please. Talk to me, let me help.”

Peter shook his head and started to walk toward the stairs, to go upstairs and lie awake in his own bed since he was certain there would be no sleeping for the rest of the night. “I appreciate it Mr. Stark, but I just need sleep, that’s all. Nothing wrong.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark started again but Peter didn’t allow the man to continue. He glanced behind him before continuing upstairs and assured Tony, “I’m okay, I promise.”

- 3 -

Morgan spent all of breakfast on Saturday pestering Tony about going down to the lake to swim because it was a "bazillion and six degrees daddy" and she absolutely wouldn't survive the heat. Tony had protested that he had work to do, and as much as he'd like to go swimming, she would have to wait until later that afternoon so that he could watch her.

Peter was passively listening to their conversation, picking at the waffles on his plate, so exhausted that he didn't even feel hungry. Tony had been eyeing his still very-full plate but so far had not commented on it.

"I can take her," Peter heard himself offering, not entirely sure what compelled him to say that.

Tony looked at him with surprise, "Are you sure? You don't have to, she won't actually die, I assure you."

"Sure," Peter said. He had made the offer and Morgan had perked up considerably from her moping at his suggestion, he wasn't going to back out on her now. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't sleep and that he constantly felt like there was electricity running through his body from persistent anxiety.

"Daddy!" Tony was standing in the kitchen and heard his daughters scream coming from down by the lake. He dropped the plate he was holding and didn't even register as it shattered on the ground next to him, he was already out the door and running down to the dock.

He was pressing buttons on his watch, calling a medical suit to himself in preparation for whatever he was about to encounter. He wouldn't even let himself think of what could be waiting for him and all the hazards that swimming in the lake presented.

His heartbeat slowed just slightly as he approached the dock and saw both his kids were safely on dry land, alleviating his deepest fear that he had refused to admit, that he would find one of his kids drowning in the lake because he had been too 'busy' to come down here with them. He would never forgive himself it that ever happened and vowed that no one would go near the water again without him present. Him and a suit standing by for whatever emergency might present itself. He could plan for all that later though, right now he needed to determine what had caused his daughter panic.

As soon as Morgan caught sight of him, she ran to meet him and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward Peter. There were tear tracks running down her face and she was hiccupping through her own sobs.

"Something is wrong with Petey," she cried, "I asked him to jump off the dock with me and then as soon as we got in the water he started freaking out. He pulled us both out and he's just been sitting there crying and breathing real hard. He won't answer me and he pushed me when I tried to hug him," Morgan sobbed even harder.

"It's okay," Tony tried to soothe as they came up next to Peter, "Can you please go wait for me on the porch Morgs? I don't want you near the water and I want to be able to help Peter without worrying."

Morgan nodded, though she seemed uneasy about leaving Peter.

"Mommy is on her way home," Tony soothed her. Pepper would have gotten a notification as soon as he activated a medic suit and would probably be flying home in her own as they spoke.

“In fact," Tony thought, "Why don't you take my phone and call Mommy and talk to her. She is headed back but might be a little bit worried and will want to hear from you that you are okay." Tony pulled his phone out, Friday would have already let Pepper know everyone was okay, but it couldn’t hurt. Morgan took the phone and looked at Peter's trembling form with fear in her eyes before running toward the cabin.

With one less thing to worry about, Tony turned to the shaking kid in front of him. For the most part, Peter sat motionless except for the trembling in his shoulders. Not wanting to startle him, Tony moved around to get in front of him and in his line of sight before getting down on his knees to be on eye level.

His heart broke as he took in the sopping wet hair on Peter's head and the lake water mixing with tears as it dripped down his face.

"Hey Pete," He tried to be as gentle as possible, "are you with me? Can you tell me where you are?"

Peter continued to just stare directly ahead, eyes glazed over, not really looking at Tony, but past him and over the water. Tony very slowly reached out to place a hand on Peter's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact, Peter jolted into awareness and practically leapt backward to get away from him. Tony saw the glazed over look had been replaced with wild-eyed terror and he sat motionless, hands held up in front of him trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, waiting for Peter to recognize his surroundings.

After a few moments, the heaving breaths in Peter's chest slowed and his gaze stopped wandering around and settled on Tony.

"Hey bud, Are you with me now?" Tony tried again, keeping his voice soft and slowly lowering his hands, keeping them in view still in an attempt to be as non-threatening as possible.

Peter waited a moment, giving Tony an assessing gaze before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"That's really good. Can you help me understand what happened?" Tony cajoled.

Peter paused again before shaking his head and then softly adding, "I'm fine."

Tony had to hold back a snort at such a blatant lie from the kid, but it wouldn't do him any good to make Peter feel belittled.

"Is Morgan okay? I didn't mean to scare her," Peter added, finally looking up to meet Tony's eye.

"Morgan is completely fine. She just wanted to make sure you were okay. She's with Pepper."

Peter wasn't completely sure how it had happened, but the moment his feet his the water he was back in the lake, wrapped in a parachute and drowning. His brain stopped working but some instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was pulling himself and Morgan out of the lake, much to Morgan's displeasure.

"Petey, why'd we get out?" Morgan asked, the pout on her face evidence in her voice.

Peter tried to reply to her but all that came out was a wheezing breath and then he wasn't sitting on the dock anymore. He was drowning again or floating in nothingness as dust. His body was on fire from the pain of turning to dust, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He was too far gone to hear Morgan screaming for her dad. It wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he came back to awareness and jumped back out of reach of whoever might be trying to hurt him. He looked around frantically to make sure Morgan wasn't nearby and in any danger from this attacker but eventually his gaze settled on Tony and he realized that the threat was all in his head. He should have known that his spidey-sense would have warned him if there was a true threat and it had been nearly silent since he'd arrived here. The buzz of his anxiety was his only companion right now.

He registered it was Tony in front of him and felt an overwhelming urge to just run and collapse into his arms and let his mentor comfort him, but he couldn't. He craved the comfort he knew Tony would provide, but he couldn't accept it. He was so on edge, he was terrified of letting the man get close only for Peter to panic and lash out and hurt him. So he tried to push him away physically and emotionally. It was better for them both that way.

"Let's get you warmed up," Tony said, holding out a hand to help Peter up, but the kid ignored him and stood, somewhat shakily on his own. They walked up toward the house together, Tony keeping one hand behind Peter, making sure not to touch him but wanting to be prepared if he stumbled. When they got inside Tony led Peter upstairs to his and Pepper's room. Peter hesitated in the doorway before following him in. He pulled out the fluffiest towels that they had and draped one around Peter's shoulders. He made to use the other to towel off the kid's hair, but as soon as Peter registered his intent, he was ducked out of the way.

"I can do that," Peter said. Tony wanted to scream but held it back and tried to keep his face neutral.

"Are you sure? Because I really don't mind," Tony tried one last time.

"Yes," Peter said vehemently.

Tony relinquished the towel and stood back as helplessly as Peter dried his curls somewhat awkwardly with one towel while trying to hold the other one around his shoulders. Tony finally decided he needed to be helpful and went to get some warm clothes out of Peter's room. The kid still didn't have very much, and Tony made a mental note to order him more clothes, before returning to his own room to supplement the kid's things with his own sweat pants and hoodie.

He held out the clothes to Peter once it was clear the kid had accomplished all he was going to getting dry by himself and Peter disappeared into the bathroom to change. Tony sat down on the bed while he waited.

When Peter reappeared looking even younger than he was, if that was possible, wearing Tony's clothes, Tony tried to bring up the conversation again.

"Hey, kid. We don't have to talk about it, but if you want to, I'm here. There's nothing to be ashamed of, you have been so brave and you have every right to get a little freaked out by the water," Tony tried to start the conversation. But Peter wasn't having it.

Peter shook his head no and replied, "I'm okay, I promise,"

- 4 -

It was July before he knew it and a month had passed at the lake. Peter was actually enjoying his time at the lake - playing with Morgan, working on tech with Tony, having family dinners - but he still couldn’t sleep and he still couldn't get to close to his mentor without feeling like he was going to dissolve. Tony knew something was wrong and kept trying to broach the subject, but Peter refused to talk about it and Tony never got frustrated or pushed him. He steadily reminded him that he wasn't going anywhere and would be there when Peter was ready to talk.

Peter felt on edge the whole day and couldn’t pinpoint why. He tried to push it aside and enjoy the hamburgers they grilled and the shortcake that Pepper had baked. As darkness fell, they moved from the patio table down to some lounge chairs facing the lake and settled in for the show.

The first firework burst in the sky just a moment before the noise of the explosion. That almost unnoticeable delay between the speed of light and the speed of sound. It was there though, a fraction of a second for Peter to enjoy the beauty of the firework before the sound caused his head to erupt into pain and his mind to start spiraling into the bad place.

All of a sudden he was no longer at the lake, he was on a battlefield, fighting against aliens who they had already lost to once. There was a cacophony of violence around him and Peter couldn’t stop to process it because he had to keep fighting. His life and half of the population of the world depended on it.

More fireworks went off and Peter collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself with his head between his knees and his hands clawing at his ears trying to block out some of the sounds. A hand reached out to touch him and it felt like fire coming in contact with his skin. His senses were out of control and he could count the fibers in the shirt he was wearing and the blades of grass beneath his legs. He heard screaming and then realized that the noise was coming from him.

Peter fought against the stars in his vision, trying not to pass out from the pain in his head, and then something metal brushed his hair and a helmet was placed over his head. Immediately, the world dulled. The noise of the fireworks was muffled, the light from the moon and the fireworks was dimmed to nearly black. Peter let out a shuddering breath, trying to get ahold of himself and then slowly lifted his eyes, looking through the lenses of the iron man helmet to see Tony squatting in front of him with a look of panic on his face. When Tony realized that Peter was looking at him, he mimed standing up and going into the house and then tilted his head at Peter to make it a question. Peter nodded, which felt odd in the bulky helmet and painfully got to his feet. Mr. Stark didn’t try to help him after his touch had elicited such a pained scream earlier, but he hovered close by in case he was needed.

Slowly, they made their way back into the house, Peter flinching every time another firework went off despite the silencing effects of the helmet. Once they were through the door Tony led him down the hall to the room he was staying in and then directly into the closet. Peter wasn’t sure why, but noticed the complete darkness of the space and thought it was as good of a place as any. Out of nowhere Mr. Stark produced a set of noise-canceling headphones and a pair of very dark sunglasses and held them out to Peter. Peter didn’t look forward to removing the helmet but knew it would be more comfortable to have the headphones on. The less coming into contact with his skin, the better.

Slowly he lifted the helmet, surprised how well the closet was blocking the noise, though it was still too much to hear. Quickly, he exchanged the helmet for the headphones and the glasses and settled them on his face. Then he sunk down to the floor, curling back in on himself and trying to touch as little as possible to his skin.

He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes. The salt burned on his oversensitive skin but that did nothing to stop him. He just kept his head down let himself silently cry. He wanted nothing more than to let Tony shield him from all the noise and light and fear, he knew being touched would be excruciating. Instead, they just sat there in darkness for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Peter’s senses dulled back to a more manageable state and after looking to Tony for confirmation that the outside world would be quiet, Peter eased the headphones off his head and was met with blessed silence.

“Hey,” Tony spoke so quietly that Peter wouldn’t have been able to hear him without his enhancements, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Peter answered automatically.

“Kid,” Tony tried again, still gentle but clearly not believing him, “after everything that has happened, I should have thought about the effect explosions might have. That’s on me. Your response was valid and I’m sorry to have triggered that. If you want to talk about it, with me, or even with someone else,” Tony tried to offer but Peter cut him off.

“It isn’t anything big, it was just a lot for my senses. Enhanced hearing and whatnot,” Peter tried to justify, seeing the incredulous look on Mr. Stark's face but knowing the man wouldn't openly challenge him on this. He was pretty sure Mr. Stark saw right through him, but he wasn't ready to admit to anything yet. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m okay, I promise.”

- 5 -

Pepper and Tony were both tied up on phone calls and Peter had offered to make Morgan lunch. Morgan had begged him to let her help and he had thought asking her to pick out some fruit to go with her sandwich wouldn't be so bad. He should have realized that any kid of Tony's would go the extra mile and end up in trouble, and instead of deciding on a fruit, Morgan had retrieved an apple from the counter and somehow got ahold of a knife and was attempting to cut it herself. Peter could swear his back was only turned for a second and next thing he knew, she had climbed onto the counter and was waving the knife around the air pretending it was a sword and apple in front of her was an unruly subject of the crown being beheaded (he thought he heard her use the word guillotine but couldn't be sure and had no idea where she would have picked it up but chose to let that part go for nowHey Morgs, you aren't supposed to be using a knife," Peter tried to keep his voice calm and friendly, not wanting to be mean or to startle Morgan.

"Oops," Morgan looked at him sheepishly, obviously knowing she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

"Hand it over kid," he said, holding out a hand for the knife. Morgan moved to give it to him but then there was a loud thud from upstairs. She whipped around to try and see the origin of the noise, and her sudden movement caused the knife to cut right through Peter's forearm.

He hissed out a breath at the sting which drew Morgans attention. She gasped when she saw what she had done and immediately dropped the knife, letting it fall to the floor, thankfully missing impaling Peter's foot by a couple of inches.

“I'm so sorry Petey," Morgan wailed, "I didn't mean to hurt you.”

"It's okay, Morgan. I'm fine, just a little scratch," Peter tried to console her while he wrapped a kitchen towel around his arm to staunch the flow of blood. Before he could figure out what the logical next step was, Tony appeared in the doorway, probably having heard Morgan's cries from upstairs. He had walked around the corner, still partially listening to someone on the phone, but the moment his eyes landed on Peter and countertop that was pretty well covered with blood, the phone slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"What happened!" Tony asked, moving quickly toward the two of them and eyeing Morgan up-and-down to check for injuries. Once he determined that her tears were only from emotional distress and not from physical harm, he moved his attention to Peter.

"Little mishap. It's my fault, I wasn't paying close enough attention. I'm so sorry," Peter stumbled over his words, trying to apologize for letting Morgan get her hands on a knife and putting her in harm's way.

Tony had been looking around the room for something and when his eyes landed on the bloody knife on the floor by Peter's foot. He looked between the knife and Peter's arm.

"Did your sister STAB you?" Tony asked, sounding confused and terrified as he looked between the knife and Morgan.

Peter was too out of it from blood loss and shock to even register that Tony had referred to Morgan as his sister, "No!" he exclaimed, "it was an accident."

Tony shook his head, "we will talk about this later. I want to hear the whole story," he said, more to Morgan than Peter, and she just nodded her head, tears still streaming down her face.

"Come on Pete, let's move up to the bathroom, that's where the first-aid kit is. Are you feeling light-headed? Can you walk okay? You can sit here, I can bring it down maybe. This is a lot of blood..." Tony trailed off, seeming to debate with himself if Peter was fit to walk.

"It's fine. I don't want to get blood on the carpets though," Peter replied, even though he was starting to feel a bit light-headed, he wasn't going to admit to it.

"I don't give a damn about the carpets, Peter. The very bottom of the list of things I care about actually. I was debating getting rid of them just because. I hope you get blood on them honestly, it would give me a good excuse," Tony half-joked, but he was still looking worried.

Tony reached out to put a hand on Peter's non-injured arm and to help him upstairs, but Peter instinctively moved away from the man before he could touch him. It was just a habit at this point.

"Right," Tony said, more to himself than to Peter, when he realized the kid wasn't going to let him help. "At least let me walk behind you so I can catch you if you pass out,"

Peter tried to determine if the man was joking, but the look on his face told him it was a serious request. Peter nodded and started to walk out of the kitchen, Mr. Stark following closely behind him.

At that moment, Pepper came around the corner, apparently having taken notice of the commotion in the kitchen. She quickly and silently assessed the situation before swooping in and picking Morgan up from the middle of the mess on the counter.

"Do you need any help," She asked Tony, there were unspoken questions hanging in her voice, but she wasn't going to pry while Peter was actively bleeding.

"I think we can manage," Tony replied, keeping his eyes on Peter.

"Okay, just yell if you need anything," She said, "I'm going to give Morgan a bath."

Peter continued out of the kitchen and up the stairs, using all of his energy to keep from swaying too much or from giving in and passing out. After what felt like an eternity, per Tony's instructions, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the Stark's master bathroom. He wanted to feel awkward to be in their room again, but he was fully distracted by his arm.

Tony fetched the first aid kit from under the cabinets and knelt down in front of Peter.

"Can I take the towel off and get a better look," Tony asked.

"Um, I can unwrap it," Peter offered, moving to do it himself.

Tony hissed when the last layer of towel came away and he could see the angry cut running up his arm.

"She really got you good there kid. I think you might need stitches," He mused.

"It's not as bad as it looked," Peter defended. "Besides, I heal fast."

Tony shook his head, "I still think you need stitches. We have everything to do it here so we don't even have to go to the hospital. Rhodey put as all through field-medic training. I can do them for you.”

Peter waited for Tony to finish and then gave a firm, "No. I can do it myself if I need to. I've done it plenty of time."

Tony just stared at him, seemingly unsure of what to say. "What do you mean you've done it plenty of times? When have you been stitching yourself up???" he finally asked.

Peter shrugged, wincing when it pulled at his cut, "I was out doing the hero thing before I met you. And you can learn just about anything on YouTube these days."

Tony looked horrified at the idea of a fourteen-year-old Peter stitching himself up after a rough patrol. "Are you sure you won't let me help?" he tried, "I promise I'll be gentle."

"No. I can do it." Peter said resolutely. Tony gave in and started taking things out of the kit and handing them to Peter. Disinfectant, gauze, a numbing gel that Peter was certain would accomplish nothing but that he used just to appease the other man. Finally everything was clean and Tony hesitantly handed over the suture kit.

"I really don't like this kid. Can we just go to the hospital instead? Or I can call Rhodey or Bruce or something?" He tried one last time.

"It's fine Mr. Stark, I can do it," Peter assured him.

Tony sat stoically while Peter sewed up his cut, flinching every time the needle pierced his skin as though it was him getting the stitches. Peter made quick work of the injury and was soon accepting a bandage from Tony and binding up his injury.

"Look, good as new," Peter said lightly, trying to alleviate that tension that had settled over the room while he worked.

Tony examined him closely, seeming to search Peter's face, but for what, he didn't know.

"Okay, how about we head down to the living room. You need to eat something for your spidey-metabolism and I don't want you taking pain meds on an empty stomach."

Peter stood from the tub and swayed a bit when he got to his feet. Mr. Stark moved to help him but stopped just short. "Can I help, please?" Tony asked.

Peter shook his head no. "I can walk on my own. I'm okay, I promise."

Tony was growing increasingly concerned. Watching Peter fighting to pull himself out of panic attacks without accepting any help was torture. The kid was 15 but had been through more trauma than most adults and Tony just desperately wanted Peter to let him be a parent and help bear that burden for him.

He was so conflicted as to where the line fell between giving Peter the space he needed and following his cues as to what would be helpful versus seeing where it wasn't working anymore and he had to play the adult card and step in. Peter had been fighting this battle by himself for over a month and if the kid didn’t start to get some real sleep, Tony was going to have to call in Dr. Cho or Bruce to work on some drugs for him because he was dead on his feet.

Mind made up, Tony set out to look for Peter. He found him sitting at the end of the dock, feet dangling over the water, staring out at the horizon, and walked out to join him. He knew Peter could hear him approach but the kid was either too caught up in his own thoughts to notice, or he just didn’t care, because he didn’t make any move to acknowledge Tony’s presence. Tony took a lack of rejection as an invitation to join him and sat down next to his kid, leaving a few inches between them. He turned so he was sitting cross-legged facing Peter, with the water off to his side.

“Kid, whatever it is that you think you have to handle on your own, you don’t,” Tony started, pleading in his voice, “I would do anything for you. I would go through it all a hundred times so that you wouldn’t have to experience any of it once, but I can’t do that. And it kills me to watch you suffer alone,” Tony’s voice cracked and he felt his own tears falling now, “I am begging you, Peter, if you won’t let me in for yourself, please, do it for me. I need you to let me help you.”

Peter shook his head ‘no.’ He was still looking out over the water but spoke softly, “You don’t understand, I can’t. I can’t talk to you, I can’t let you touch me, I can’t let you help. I just can’t.” Peter’s voice cracked as he spoke, “Just leave me alone. That’s what I need right now.”

Tony’s heart broke into even more pieces if that was even possible. For a moment he wrestled with the idea of giving in to Peter, of listening to the kid's plea for space and respecting that, but despite what Peter was saying, Tony knew that wasn’t what he actually needed.

“I am not going anywhere, kid. Please. You don’t have to talk to me right now, but can I please at least give you a hug?” Tony ached to hug his kid after letting Peter push him away for so long.

Peter shook his head almost imperceptibly. He finally turned his head and met Tony’s gaze, each one staring into the other's tear-filled eyes until Peter finally broke eye contact. His head fell forward, chin to chest, and gut-wrenching sobs wracked his frame. Tony almost joined him in sobbing, he was so at a loss as to what to do, but then very slowly, he leaned in. He gave Peter time to push him away, he had heard the kids say he didn’t want a hug with his words and Tony didn’t believe that was actually what he wanted, but he still moved at a glacial pace. It felt like an eternity, but the kid’s forehead was finally resting on Tony’s chest and he couldn’t take it anymore. Tony placed one hand on the back of his kid’s head, holding him against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around him and pulled Peter firmly into his lap. Peter didn’t pull away. He melted into the embrace and started to sob even harder. Tony held him tightly, running his fingers through the boy's curls and gently started rocking back and forth.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, clutching each other, Peter sobbing loudly while Tony had silent tears streaming down his own face. Finally, Peter’s sobs slowed and he lifted his own tear-stained eyes to meet Tony’s, not moving from the man’s embrace.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice broke saying his name, “I think I need help.

Tony hugged Peter tighter if that was possible. “Okay,” he replied, his own voice thick with tears, “whatever you need, I am here.

“I’m so tired. I just want to sleep without having nightmares and not be afraid anymore,” Peter sniffed as he spoke, he was no longer sobbing but tears were still flowing freely down his face.

“I will never let anything else happen to you if I can help it. I know I can’t protect you from everything, but I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” Tony told him.

Peter nodded, “I feel like I’ll be afraid forever,” he confessed.

Tony hugged him tighter, “I know it feels like that but, but you have to trust me that eventually, you’ll be okay. I promise.”

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harcourtholmesii · 3 years

Text

Unintended Purpose (Part III)

Pairings: As Of Yet; Unknown

Warnings: - Swearing - Slavery (Whether Characters Realise It Or Not) - Physical Abuse / Manipulation

Words: 2018

Enjoy!

SMACK!

Hank’s head was whipped to one side, his mind reeling for a few short seconds as he comprehended the blow to his cheek. A sting had begun to blossom there, the feeling of heat welling up on the right side of his face a minor physical pain.

It hurt more to see Renee so close to crying.

‘Are you kidding me, Hank?’ Her hazel eyes were blinking back tears, her face as red as his felt, gritting her teeth as if to keep herself from screaming. Hank had never seen her in such a state before; nothing had come this close.

‘I’m sorry.’ He stepped closer to her, hands raised to rest on her arms or shoulders. Anywhere he might touch and hold her. He didn’t want her upset; he hated seeing her hurt. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘Well, you should have!’ She shirked his hands away, putting a few feet between herself and him. Her chest was heaving, the finest traces of her makeup running down from her eyes. The waterworks had broken.

‘You should have let me come with you! Not bought some homicidal android and allowed it into our home!’

‘Hon, I didn’t know. I thought you would be happy with the surprise; I wasn’t expecting it to have done something… like that.’ Admittedly, Hank was less furious or even upset by the discovery. He knew that machines could miscalculate; he saw it all the time at the precinct.

They would occasionally have issues with motor control and drop papers, coffee cups and, on the rare occasions, guns. Then, there were those that calculated how best to file or archive evidence, without consulting the officers first. Sometimes, there were others who were given conflicting orders between two sources, and had to determine who best to listen to. Often, those kinds of fuck-ups were the most damning; he had seen a number of assistance androids disappear out of the doors of the precinct and never come back.

‘Connor’, however, was a different case entirely.

Hank had heard the rumours of CyberLife creating police detectives and riot officer androids, but he had ignored it for the most part; secure with his own position. After all, for androids to take such an active role in the police force, it seemed a little too endangering. As if humans didn’t already trust androids enough to care for their young and sick, now they would be forced to trust them with their safety and lives.

Hank knew too many people that would have rioted for that. Gavin Reed came to mind.

However, ‘Connor’ had been given an active role by CyberLife, and had caused irreversible damage. He had his mind wiped and his programming for police work overridden with housekeeping duties. But, as ‘Connor’ had proven to them in the car ride home, he was not entirely clean of his previous coding.

Renee’s lips tightened, forming a thin, trembling line as she kept herself from shouting further. Both she and Hank wanted to avoid upsetting Cole, who Renee had ordered to his room so she could have a private conversation with Hank.

‘It’s not safe.’ She huffed, pushing strands of her black hair from her face. ‘I trusted you to buy a simple, housekeeping android. I didn’t much care about the price, so long as it was safe and… And not anything like that… Thing in the kitchen.’ She spat out those words, as if they were poison on her tongue.

‘I… I wanted to get someo- Something Cole would like. I let him choose, within reason. Or, at least, I thought it was. I figured, perhaps having an ex-police android would be an extra security measure; something else to keep Cole safe.’ He said, hoping to reason with her. Anything to calm her down even a little.

‘You were mistaken, Hank Anderson!’

Ouch. Never a good sign when she used his name like that. She had pulled away as far as she could from him and turned her back on him, leaving Hank just beside the bedroom door.

‘It’s hideous…’ She muttered.

‘What?’

‘It’s hideous too. You know, I thought we might get something that at least looked human too. How much did you pay for that doll out there?’ He opened his mouth to respond. ‘D-Don’t! Don’t answer that, Hank…’

‘Well, what do you want me to do?’

She turned to face him fully, sniffling a bit. Finally, she approached him. She moved forward until she could rest the crown of her head against his shoulder. He raised his arms again, wrapping them around her body and pulling her close. She was shaking.

‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’ His words were soft.

‘Get rid of it.’ She looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. She stood up on the tips of her toes, pressing a kiss to the underside of Hank’s jaw. ‘I want it out of our house. Go back to the CyberLife store and replace it. I don’t care what you replace it with, but don’t leave it here, Hank.’

He let out a breath, nodding his head. A small, sad smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She stepped away and took a seat on the bed, gesturing for him to leave.

And leave he did.

He opened the door to the bedroom, turned, and very nearly tripped over Cole. The boy was stood outside, Sumo hoisted up by Cole’s arms under his front legs, both of them looking up at Hank with wide eyes.

‘We’re not really getting rid of him, Dad. Are we?’

Shit.

Hank knelt down in front of them both, petting Sumo’s brown fur gently, and offering Cole an apologetic look.

‘I’m sorry, Cole.’ He felt his heart break when Cole’s lower lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. ‘Your mom and I- We don’t think ‘Connor’ is… Was a good choice. I’m taking him back to CyberLife.’

‘No! Dad, please! Don’t do that.’ Cole pleaded with him. Sumo was gently dropped onto all fours as Cole leaned in to hug tightly to Hank. ‘I don’t want ‘Connor’ gone. I want to keep him!’

‘We can’t do that.’

‘Why not?!’ He nearly shrieked. ‘Is it something he did? Is- Is it something I did?’

‘No!’ Hank pulled Cole’s head to his chest, nearly encompassing him entirely in his arms. ‘You did nothing wrong, Cole. Nothing… But… Your mom and I think that the android you chose may not be safe.’

‘But he was a police android…’

‘Yes.’

‘And police androids protect people…?’ Hank knew where this was going. He lowered his gaze, curtains of silver hiding his eyes from Cole. He couldn’t look him in the eye anymore without caving. Cole had always been very good at getting him to crack under pressure.

‘Yes, Cole. But this one didn’t. It hurt someone. Badly.’ His arms tightened around Cole and then released him. Sumo was pawing at the leather of his shoes, whining quietly. ‘The android needs to be returned. If not for your safety, then for your mother’s peace of mind.’

‘But I want to keep him.’

‘And do you want your mom happy?’ It was a low blow, Hank knew, but he needed to convince Cole to let this thing go. There was a sniffle, and then Cole slowly backed up, picking up Sumo in his arms once more, and began his defeated march back to his room.

Hank watched him go; watched how he practically slunk inside and shut the graffitied wood behind him, pencil sketches of superhero dad seemingly mocking Hank.

He stood, turning his eyes down the hall, landing on the problematic android in question, that stood stock-still where they had left him. Those brown eyes turned away from him; it had been watching them both. Hands behind its back, it seemed the part of an innocent bystander, unaware of the goings on at the far end of the hall.

Hank moved closer to it, standing before the android. In a way, what Renee said rang true; this thing looked much more machine-like than most androids. It seemed almost an amalgamation of shapes that created an uncanny valley look to it. A strong, square jaw, but offset by artificial baby fat in the cheeks. Wide, innocent, brown eyes, but with a furrowed brow, creating half a frown of sorts. The work of a police detective, but not with an athletic body for police chases or self-defence.

Its design simply didn’t make sense.

‘Connor.’ The android just looked at him, eyes flicking about his face as if he was judging Hank just like Hank did him. He stopped. ‘It’s time to go.’

‘Back to CyberLife?’

Hank simply nodded, gesturing to the front door. There was a minor, yellow blink in the LED, but the android simply turned on its heel and headed to the door. It even opened it up for Hank and gestured him out first, like the obedient machine it was made to be.

Hank had begun to follow it when he heard one of the bedroom doors open and Cole come sprinting back down the hall. He stepped between Hank and the door, holding his arms out wide in a defiant little stance, Sumo yapping up at the three of them.

‘Wait! Dad…’ He turned back to ‘Connor’, having tilted its head in curiosity once more. His eyes rested on Hank’s again. ‘Please! Can’t we keep him?’

Hank rolled his eyes a little, but knelt down before him once more. He rested a hand on Cole’s shoulder, shaking his head.

‘No. Cole, now, we just talked about this. I’m taking him back to CyberLife. Today.’ He had to remain firm. Cole shook his head violently, remaining where he was, hands outstretched.

‘Don’t take him, Dad!’ Hank heard another pair of feet, peering over his shoulder to see Renee in the hall, watching him. Cole looked between them for a moment, before running backwards and taking a grip on ‘Connor’s’ trouser leg. The android stumbled slightly, but did not otherwise move.

‘Please, Dad! Mom! Just…’ His hazel eyes were all over the place, thinking of excuses; any reason he might have to keep ‘Connor’ around.

‘No, Cole. That is final.’ Hank rumbled, a little frustrated. He stood once more, and pulled Cole away from ‘Connor’s’ leg, grabbing a hold of it by the lapel of its CyberLife uniform and beginning to drag it to the car.

Cole had begun to cry again.

‘Wait, Dad!’ Hank stopped, just to let Cole know he was listening. The chill of Autumn’s last days stung the skin of his hands and face. He had made up his mind. The android was going back to CyberLife, and nothing Cole said would change that.

‘C-Can’t we… Can’t we just keep him until my birthday is over?’ Hank cocked an eyebrow, turning back to look at his son. ‘Connor’ peered between the two of them, eyes locked on Cole’s tiny, trembling form.

‘Please! Just until my birthday is done!’ Hank peered between Cole on the doorstep, ‘Connor’s’ curious face, and Renee’s disapproving look. He felt a headache beginning to come on.

‘Once your birthday is over?’

‘Yes.’

‘No more excuses after that, right Cole?’ Cole shook his head again, practically bouncing on his feet; impatient. Hank looked up to Renee, who was giving him a heated look.

What are you doing? Her lips formed around the silent words with some anger, glaring daggers at Hank. Get rid of it!

Hank sighed. He would regret his decision either way.

‘Once your birthday is over, it’s going back. No more complaints, understand?’ Cole’s face broke into a wide smile as he raced across the icy pavement and hugged tight to Hank’s leg. Hank smiled down at him as Cole pulled away and, with an excited Sumo leaping up at the android, both boy and his dog guided ‘Connor’ back into the house.

Renee stepped away from the door, arms crossed and in a huff.

They could live with it for just a week.

And then it would be gone.

#DBH #Detroit: Become Human #RK800 #RK800 Connor #Hank Anderson #Cole Anderson #Fanfic #Fanfiction #HarcourtHolmesII

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louisapennyfeather2021 · 4 years

Text

So I went back and did more research and I decided to make a new placement of Newsies in Camp Half-blood. I'm not changing what anyone else has said, this is just how I imagine the crossover. (Part 1/5):

@a-fight-we-have-to-win and @morris-delancey-street for the headcanons that inspired most of the reasoning behind characters.

Jack Kelly- Son of Hecate. Jack is a somewhat quiet person unless he's around the people he's closest to. He loves creating. Anything. Drawings, illusions, pictures with the Mist. He loves it. He struggles with feeling inferior because he doesn't feel like he can protect those closest to him, but he's determined and that's what matters in the end.

Sarah Jacobs- Daughter of Hebe. Sarah is very smiley, and despite being twins with Davey, she has a different parent. This is mostly due to how Athena has her children. Sarah is very talkative as long as you respect her and her opinions. She can be very cold if you disrespect anyone or anything, really. She's very attentive to younger campers which gives her a "mom" vibe, but she doesn't mind. Sarah prefers helping younger kids over being with the older kids, unless it's her friends and family. Sarah struggles with feeling out of place because of this, but her friends try their hardest to make her feel as wanted as possible. Sarah is such a musical/play/Broadway need. She could name every Musical in chronological order since Broadway opened if she asked. She's dedicated, to say the least. Sarah is big on family, whether her godly siblings or Davey and Les, she never lets a day go by without letting anyone in her family know she loves them. Sarah can be very prideful sometimes and it shows, which she knows is something she can work on. Through her pride, Sarah knows when a wrong has been done and she won't let it slide.

David "Davey" Jacobs- Son of Athena. Davey is smart and he doesn't like jumping right into something without thinking through all of the pros and cons. He's extremely smart, there's no doubt, but he lacks the self esteem to prove it unless he's with the people he really cares about or he's really passionate about something. Davey is terrified of failing because he's worried the few people he has will leave him.

Les Jacobs- Son of Dionysus. He doesn't like his dad, especially since he's camp director, but also because he feels useless. Les feels like he doesn't always belong with the older kids because he gets along with them a bit better than kids his age. He also feels this way since him and Davey aren't from the same godly parent. He's courageous and you listen to him when he talks because he just demands attention, but not in a spoiled way. He just has such a high presence for a kid his age. Les is usually calm in large groups and he actually prefers them over being alone so he doesn't feel left out. Les is very competitive when he gets his head into it. Watching him practice for capture the flag is adorable. Les is like Jack and he's scared of feeling inferior. He's worried that the older kids he recognizes as family won't include him because he's a kid. Les is a very persuasive kid, mostly because he can pull off some good puppy dog eyes, but also because he's very demanding of the room. Les' biggest fear is the unknown. He doesn't want to worry about losing people to something he doesn't understand, so he's very determined to figure out the unknown.

Katherine Plumber- Daughter of Bellona. Although Katherine is a Roman Demigod, she spends a lot of her time at Camp Half-blood. It messes with the Gods, but she could care less. Katherine is a very out there personality. She loves being with the people who listen to her and respect her opinion. She tries desperately to be the best she can, and it comes off as her trying to be better than everyone else unless you know her. Katherine is most comfortable in places where she feels in control. Anywhere else and she starts panicking because she doesn't want to feel out of control. Katherine is naturally brave, so she's able to keep her composure often. There have been a few, rare incidents. Katherine is absolutely terrified of feeling useless.

Crutchie Morris- Son of Tyche. Crutchie has been through a lot in his life, but he's managed to still have a great friend group at camp, a great personality, and he's still able to walk despite his leg. Crutchie is very worried about not belonging. He was crippled from a quest when he was younger, so he can't always keep up with the others or join them. Jack reassures him and finds ways to include Crutchie using magic, but Crutchie always has an underlying feeling telling him he doesn't fit. He doesn't sleep much because these thoughts keep him up, but he's adjusted to short sleep schedules. Crutchie is most comfortable with his friends because the jokes and pranks keep his thoughts from wandering. He always has his close friends there to comfort him though. Crutchie is very loyal because he realizes if he can't be the best at play fighting or competing with friends, he can make up for it by always being there for them. Despite this, Crutchie can also be troublesome by pulling the pranks. He's able to play innocent because he's such a smiley, happy person, but he doesn't occasionally join the pranking.

Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins- Son of Hermes. Race is a prankster, it doesn't matter who his parent is. He's sneaky and witty. He's very laid back when he wants to be, but he can also be extremely chaotic. He's always charged with being the distraction during Capture the Flag. He's very fast and it's easy for him to suddenly disappear and then reappear because of this. Race is very athletic, although he's better at running than lifting weights or anything. Race does struggle sometimes because he relies too much on taking chances and it hasn't always ended well. Race is most comfortable in crowds because he can just zip through and be energetic and jumpy. Race is extremely arrogant. The amount of fights he's sparked with different cabins is unbelievable. He's caused multiple almost civil wars between the Area Cabin and other cabins. Race is very passionate and determined though. He hasn't had the best past with his human family, so he learns that he has to be determined to survive.

Sean "Spot" Conlon- Son of Ares. Spot isn't the best at socializing, but he does have a few friends. He's naturally intimidating and he demands attention in a room, but mostly due to how he holds himself. He's very confident, but he's also very protective and loyal. You can't do anything to the people he cares about without dealing with him. Although Spot is intimidating and can be very angry and physical, he's also smart. He does what he thinks is necessary to protect those who need it. He won't put people in danger without considering any other option. That doesn't mean he won't fight for what's right. Spot is naturally athletic, but he's not the best runner. He's quick with hand to hand combat, but he mostly relies on strength and training to survive. Unlike most of his siblings, Spot is very thoughtful. This is due to PTSD from family history and a quest that took someone very important to him away. Spot is most comfortable where he can be outside and where he can breathe. If you take Spot's friendship and loyalty for granted, he will never forget about it. You might be able to mend your relationship, but he'll always have a voice telling him not to completely trust you.

Albert Dasilva- Son of Poseidon. Albert is a very free spirit, in a sense. He doesn't like feeling confined, so he's hardly ever in his cabin since it's just him and Percy whenever Percy's around. He's energetic and he wants to just be a kid with his friends. It's very common that Albert will join Race with pranks, and sometimes Crutchie, but he doesn't do it just for the sake of it. He does so he can live "dangerously" without actually putting himself in danger, unless he pranks the wrong kid. Albert doesn't always know how to communicate. He can be intimidating, but he's a smart kid and he has goals. He's never been great at explaining his goals, so he sometimes feels lost when no one understands. There are a few people who understand him because they go through the same issues. Albert easily feels at peace outside. Anywhere at camp that allows him to just be himself, he loves it. He will swim a lot because he feels safe in the water. There's just so much room for him to roam. The shore, the Lake, sometimes even the edge of the Woods. He loves it. Due to Albert's longing for freedom, he can be very careless. It only ever happens when he's too focused on his goals, but it happens.

Romeo- Son of Aphrodite. Romeo is a very peaceful kid. He's a flirt, he's smiley, and he's very good at persuasion. Romeo is practically friends with everyone at Camp, with a few exceptions because, like all his friends, he tends to be a bit of a prankster. He can usually talk his way out of punishment, so he's fine. Romeo is just the definition of social butterfly. Romeo often struggles to keep relationships, friends or more, because he's so social. Depending on who the person is, he might seem disloyal. This makes Romeo feel unwanted and lonely, so he just becomes more social. The right people know it's just his personality and they respect that. Romeo might be social, but he hardly trusts someone unless he knows them extremely well. With being social, Romeo is very helpful. He'll help people who seem confused and he's often asked to show new campers around.

Oscar Delancey- Son of Dionysus. It's odd, since Oscar displays traits similar to Ares, but Oscar is much like his dad. Though he's the complete opposite of Les, apart from not really liking his dad, he's somewhere similar. He reflects Dionysus' darker side, in a sense. Oscar is very guarded. He's built up a wall that keeps him cut off from everyone, even Morris. He's very protective of his younger brother, although he shows it through toughening Morris up. It doesn't seem brotherly, but it's all Oscar knows since his father only ever treated them in such ways. Oscar is athletic in all areas. He arrives to be great with endurance, strength, stamina. Simply put, you want him on your team for Capture the Flag. Being this way, Oscar tends to try and be better than others to prove he's strong and tough. He doesn't want to seem weak in any sense. Training is Oscar's go to to relax and feel comfortable because he feels in control of himself and his surroundings. Even if he's training with someone else, he can put up with them long enough to put in some practice. Oscar does tend to have a short temper that makes him intimidating and unapproachable, but it only ever flares up whenever someone challenges him. He doesn't let this deter him though. He's very strong and powerful, even when faced with his fears and struggles.

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verobatto · 4 years

Text

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXVIII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

The Complex Destiel Mirrors from Bloodlines

9x20

Hello my friends! Here I am with another meta from this series, this time I will focus in Dabb's episode Bloodlines, who attempted to be a failed spin-off but ended up like just another episode from Supernatural, in which I recognized a complexity of mirrors and switching mirrors, as I called it.

I hope you enjoy the following meta, I had a lot of fun discovering each mirror and dialogue.

Ennis was the switching mirror of Sam and Dean

If you recall this character, was the one who at the beginning of the episode lost her girlfriend, killed by a monster.

He was about to get married with her, so it recalls me to Sam Winchester and Jesse.

Invaded by a strong revenge desire, Ennis had his first encounter with the Winchesters, and Sam had this exchange of words with him...

ENNIS [has apparently told most of the story]

And when I got to her... She...She --

SAM: There is nothing you could've done.

ENNIS: That supposed to make me feel better? Look, this thing wasn't human. So what are you gonna do about it?

This was so meaningful, because is Sam who's saying this words as if it was a contention and a hand on his own shoulder, for what just happened with this girl, dragging him back to the remembrance of Jesse.

It was certainty like talking with himself, and he will do it again in one more scene.

But before that, look at this...

[ENNIS enters a run down house, looks in closet, opens a trunk labeled N. ROSS. There is a photo of his dad in cop dress uniform inside. along with revolver and, hidden in box, silver bullets with something carved in them.]

Ennis was son of a Righteous Man, guided but his own disgrace, the boy will follow his father's steps. He will become his father. Just like Sam, he reacted very similar to him when Jesse died.

And now... The second scene in which I pointed Sam will talk with himself again...

ENNIS: Or what? Huh? You gonna hurt me? Kill the girl I love? Ruin my damn life?! Yeah, you're too late.

SAM: Ennis, listen. I get it. Believe me, I've been there. But what we do? It's messed up. So do yourself a favor and stay out. You can get hurt, too.

Sam wants a better life for this young kid, he knows hunting has not return.

Okay, now that we talked about Ennis like a Sam mirror, let's see when he switches to Dean mirror...

SAM: Wait, so this girl, she a shifter, too?

DAVID: Werewolf.

DEAN and ENNIS, together: Awesome. Awesome.

Dean is celebrating a couple of two different species, like shapeshifters and werewolves, or angels and humans *winks at the audience*.

Here, is so blatant. Ennis is now Dean, and why? As a tool for the narrative because they need them fighting like an old married couple with David (Cas mirror). Two characters that started as enemies, will end by working together.

Even Dean said this quote here...

ENNIS: No! Oh, hell no! Dude, he's a freakin' transformer.

DEAN: And sometimes you got to work with the bad guys to get to the worse guys.

(like him with Crowley, to get Abaddon or Cain killed)

DAVID: Dude, I'm right here.

DEAN: Yeah, I see you.

This bickery, in which Dean is involved, is developed to show us just that, mocking and bickery. Because is mostly Destiel Dynamics when they're mad at each other, or how they were at the beginning. And then, to make it more suggestive, Dean ends with this scene...

DAVID: I lost someone, too, okay?! But I'm trying here.

ENNIS: I'm sorry about your brother. He spoke about you at the end. He said, "David, I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice."

DEAN: All right, you guys can kiss and make up later. We got work to do. Come on.

That's the strawberry over the cake my friends... Yes... Two different species with some tension? Cas and Dean mirrors? And Dean asking him to kiss??? That's what we had been asking since Cas entered to that barn!

David, Castiel mirror and angels representations

David's house was representing Castiel and Heaven. His sister was the whole angels and heaven at once. She was mirroring duty, obedience to his father lines.

She was scolding David for being weak and for not taking responsibility as leader of the family.

But also she was talking about this...

DAVID: I'm not saying don't fight. I'm saying be smart. Find out what happened. And if Julian did this --

MARGO: Yeah, you'll what? David, come on. You don't want this. You ran away to be a human. You always had a soft spot for 'em. Look, you're out. Stay out.

David is a blatant Castiel mirror for his love for humanity and his love for Violet, another different species.

At the end of the episode he will come back to his family as a leader...

Margo, his sister again representing the Garrison as a foreshadow of Cas in the following episodes in which he will take risponsability of the angel to avoid a war.

Violet and Julian, two sides of Dean Winchester

It caught my attention that Julian, the head of the werewolves, was dressed just like Demon!Dean and it was like listening Toxic!Dean talking.

Then I saw Violet, and she was sweet and innocent and she believed in love. So I had this idea in my head, both of them were two different sides of the same coin: Dean Winchester.

We even had this scene:

VIOLET: Wait, Julian, stop --

JULIAN [handling her roughly] What do you think you're doing?! You're the bitch in this pack, princess. Your job is to be pretty and silent. So war, no war -- you don't get a vote.

In which toxic!Dean yells at Healing!Dean making him to shut up. Toxic Masculinity my friends...

And switching mirror again:

The classic Destiel mirror with the whole lines of the script from episode 6x20 was this scene...

(Gif credit @hefellfordean 👇)

Is a classic, blatant Destiel mirror that recalls us the first Destiel break up in s6. But hey... Wasn't David Cas and Violet Dean? Yes. But they switched. Just like this scene...

DAVID: Don't hurt her!

IRV: Why?! Hmm?! 'Cause she's your girlfriend? Hmm? Yeah, I heard you talking. Real sweet. Hell, it was almost human. Almost.

[IRV cuts DAVID with claw while VIOLET transforms into her wolf.]

First here... David is still Cas, and this reminded me to the torture he suffered in 9x09, but also it looks like the future torture he will suffer in 11x01, always Angels reproving his relationship with humans, but mostly, his feelings for Dean Winchester like something unholy.

Aaaand he switches to Dean now...

IRV: Here's the thing -- you can look human and act human... But deep down? You're just a monster.

This is talking about Dean, the monster, the Demon in which he will become. So is a foreshadow for that, and is too, how Dean feels inside of him.

To Conclude:

Episode 9x20 was constructed as a complex reflection of Dean, Sam and Cas.

Dabb swims through Sam's traumatic past, their daddy issues, and the forbidden romantic relationship between Cas and Dean.

He plays too with quotes and situations that reminds us to the first Destiel break up and the foreshadow of Demon!Dean.

I hope you like this, see you in the next Chronicles.

Tagging @metafest

@magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks

@weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro

@whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

@lykanyouko @evvvissticante

@savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha @imjustkipping

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From this season, here you have the links...

XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV,

XLVI, XLVII.

Buenos Aires, January 29th 2020 5:17 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #destiel meta #supernatural meta #season 9 meta #vol. XLVIII

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years

Text

Alastor and Astrology

Alastor potential birth chart

January 24th 1896, New Orleans(Jan 24 1986 is the birth date of voice actor Edward Bosco.) Alastor died in 1933 getting shot in the head and on the wiki, it said he was in his 30’s when he died. 1933 minus 1896 equals 37. I figured that the dark hour of 3:00 am would be fitting for him.

Sun in Aquarius

Friendly and sociable, you may have a wide circle of acquaintances. Friends are very important to you. Intellectually oriented, you are happiest with friends that share common ideas and interests. Strangely, you find it more difficult to cultivate a truly satisfying intimate relationship. This aloofness exists because feelings are rarely expressed outwardly, and you usually seem distant. You resist anything or anyone threatening your independence.

Alastor is shown being sociable to Charlie, Angel, Husk, etc. He’d be happy with Charlie, Mimzy, Rosie, who share his love of singing and dancing. With a constant smile on his face, Alastor tries to never express what true feelings he may have at the moment. Anyone threatening his independence like the overlords or perhaps his father would likely not live very long.

Moon in Taurus

A Taurus Moon emphasizes the material side of life, and emotions are centered on the comforts and possessions in life. You tend to be a collector and an accumulator of the things that, in your view, make up the "good life." With the Moon in Taurus, you want the best that life has to offer, and you find it difficult to settle for less. The emotions are earthy and practical, highly attracted to material possessions and the satisfactions that come from material comforts. Sense impressions are very strong, the sense of touch and taste is highly developed, and you probably have a pleasant speaking and singing voice. At least you are fond of music, art, dancing and all things that make life more pleasurable. You innate good taste probably extends to decorating the home and having a great sense for interior design.

Mercury in Aquarius

In Aquarius, Mercury produces a mind that is original, detached, and abstract. Ideas come to you as bursts of insights. Your mind is hyper-active and going constantly. Thoughts are rarely organized, rather arriving in flashes and fragments which are often the seeds of invention and progress. The thought pattern is scientific and dispassionate.Your ideas may sometimes be considered very progressive and some may be well ahead of their time. Your unique approach will prompt some to label you as being a little crazy or at least eccentric. You like to do things that are unusual or avant garde just to shake up the establishment and create controversy. You have no respect for tradition and little concern for the lessons of the past. You are a pure progressive. You love to rebel against the system in supporting causes and ideas that are controversial and revolutionary.You are very intuitive, and accordingly, an excellent judge of character. Being very fair-minded, you judge people by what they seem to know or what they do, rather than who they are or what position they occupy. You believe strongly in equality and fair play. A humanitarian, you support ideas and programs that assist those less fortunate than yourself, and you support the concepts of total social reform.You're witty and open to a wide range of ideas, but at times, you become mentally fixed in your opinions and very stubborn. You are talkative and social, but you often come off as rather aloof and cerebral. It may be hard for you to find common ground in many social circles. Nonetheless, you are very verbal and enjoy expressing you views to anyone who will listen. Writing and speaking both come easily for you.

Theory: in his human life, Alastor resisted the racist standards/discriminations, being part Creole and having a mother who wasn’t white. He most likely killed off anyone who had bullied him. It is possible that Alastor will redeem himself by working with Charlie and the other protagonists to stand up against the Archangels, overlords, and/or Lucifer. They who claim that “demons deserve to die” or the overlords who wish to brainwash the populace in Hell would face Alastor’s wrath. The name Alastor means “spirit of vengeance/tormentor,” after a figure who wanted justice for familial issues. It could be good or bad (tormenting innocent people or tormenting evil people, both of which Alastor would relish in.)The speaking/writing aspect could translate into him speaking in his radio broadcasts. The Aquarius symbol can represent water, electricity, or in his case, radio waves. Venus in Sagittarius

You are humorous, sociable and even a flirt. Outgoing and personable, you are very friendly and sometimes not too serious. There is a strong love of personal freedom in your nature that makes it a little hard for you to settle down to a restrictive sort of relationship. You feel more comfortable in a relationship when things go slowly, and your partner doesn't get too serious too fast. In fact, you would probably like it better if the relationship stayed casual, and pressures of serious love never emerged. Threats to your freedom make you very nervous. Deer need their freedom and Alastor is no exception. Throughout the show, we see him socializing and casually flirting with Charlie, Husk, and Vaggie with dramatic gestures, invasive physical touch and in Charlie’s case, dancing. He likely did the same thing with his companions as a human. His humorous side comes into play with his dad jokes and clown-like demeanor. Mars in Capricorn

You are hard-working, very determined. Since much of your energy is focused on your career, you have a tendency to become something of a workaholic. There is a drive to satisfy professional ambitions. This is likely to manifest with innate managerial skills and good old-fashioned common sense. You have strong material urges, but even stronger is the need to get status and recognition. To attain these ends, you use your energy in very practical and profitable ways. You have little use for laziness or a lack of ambition. Alastor is ambitious when it comes to getting what he wants, whether through charm or brutal force. He was likely a workaholic at his job as a radio host. In Hell, he conquered many parts of Hell, killing those who stood in his way “seemingly overnight.” His goal is to take over all of Hell and broadcast his victory, via overthrowing the king of Hell most likely. Not only does he enjoy the finer things in life and the afterlife, he also enjoys the recognition that comes with it, both admiration and fear from others.

Jupiter in Leo

Jupiter is in Leo in your chart. This placement of Jupiter suggests optimism, self confidence and generosity. You have much physical energy and a strong constitution. You have a dramatic flair in showing off your status and prosperity; you're big on grandeur in all forms. Your dignified demeanor inspires confidence and produces excellent leadership qualities. You expect appreciation and admiration in return for your benevolence, and you may seem a little offended if you don't always get it.

Being one of the most flamboyant characters in the show, Alastor lives for drama and showing off. Broadcasting his killings and conquests, both as a human and demon gives him great joy and affirms his powerful position. He appears dignified in nearly any situation, not fazed by Sir. Pentious’ attack nor when Charlie refuses to make a deal with him. With Jupiter in Leo, one could say that “theater is his religion/worldview.”“The world is a stage, and the stage is world of entertainment.” Saturn in Scorpio

Saturn in Scorpio adds much purpose and impatience to your nature. You demand much of yourself and of others. You approach responsibilities with an intensity of purpose that overwhelms people who won't carry their share of the load. You have terrific willpower and much energy. With your determination, it's hard to remain calm and reflective. Secretive and unforgiving, you resent it deeply when you are treated unfairly. Despite your strong drive for success, your approach is usually subtle and calculating.

Scorpio represents the supernatural, Saturn represents misery and death. With so much dark energy running through Alastor, it’s no surprise that he became known as the infamous Radio Demon. Alastor doesn’t like to be treated unfairly, both as a human and demon, and those who do would quickly meet their end. He does have a subtle approach to his plans, observing Charlie’s family portrait with great interest, summoning voodoo symbols when Charlie isn’t looking, watching Charlie sing on TV with fascination.He is demanding on Niffty, Husk, and Vaggie. He bribes Husk into greeting the guests and working at the stand with booze, summons Niffty to clean the hotel, and telling Vaggie to smile. “One never plans a murder out loud.” Uranus in Scorpio

Many of your peers born during the years when Uranus was in Scorpio are apt to bring about massive and often disruptive changes. The seeds of revolution and instability may take root from within this group. Uranus in Scorpio tend to be rebels. Their determination and strong will keep them heads above anyone else. But it may not be obvious at first. Uranus in Scorpio is more of a dark horse that you don’t see coming until the last second. That’s when they pounce.Disruptive changes included the 1929 stock market crash, the Great Depression, war, Alastor’s murders and his death by a bullet through his head.

Neptune in Gemini

Neptune in Gemini are in awe of the world and want to learn as much about it as possible. They are sociable and great communicators. But they and also be drawn into fantasy and illusion. They can also be taken advantage of if they’re not careful. Theory: this might explain Alastor creating illusions using his magic, as well as music, song, and dance, as Neptune rules the arts. Wanting to learn about the world could have been his desire as a child. He may have been taken advantage of in his human life, thus deciding to take advantage of others to make himself feel more secure.

Pluto in Gemini

People during the Gilded Age between 1882 and 1914 were often optimistic, fashionable, sociable and arrogant (describing Alastor and how he was brought up by society).Things in the world seemed to be improving, getting people positive to the extreme. However, things were getting bad and there were cracks in the worldview. The rich and the poor, duality is associated with Gemini. Constantly immersing themselves in deeper and more intense experiences than ever before, they reshape their thinking patterns continuously, ever evolving, ever becoming better. Love and affection are also very beneficial to their state, as it points to them they are appreciated and that it’s worth it to have a bright outlook for the future.

What could Alastor’s ascendant be?

Leo, Gemini, Capricorn, or Sagittarius Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Taurus The combination of your Sun and Moon signs produces a personality that people find easy to like and admire. This is not so much for what you do as it is for what you don't do. You’re never petty or small, and your appeal is to those in the higher as well as the lower rungs of society. You don't pester people with your worries and anxieties, but when others come to you, you drop everything to listen to their problems. You're interested in people, and like to be around them as an observer, but somehow maintaining a distance and not getting too involved individually. You rate people not on their position or rank, but simply on whether they interest you or not. You have a certain self-sufficiency about you, and you never feel that you have to put on airs to impress anyone. You have all it takes to be executive, except the desire that would be required. You seem to be devoid of any domineering or missionary spirit, willing to "live and let live." This combination blends the originality and independence of Aquarius, with the determination and powerful will of Taurus. These two fixed signs together give a will that is so strong that it may become obstinate and intransigent. Happiness can depend on assuring peacefulness and harmony in environment or home life, and in respect to human relationships.

Sun opposed Jupiter

The opposition of the Sun and Jupiter suggests an over-expanded ego. Jupiter deals with judgment, and with this aspect, the drive for significance is subject to being overemphasized. There is often a tendency toward extravagance and pretension. You can have too much optimism, and promise more than you can deliver. There is a continuous need to control urges to enter grandiose schemes and avoid ostentatious manners. The strength of this aspect lies in your ability to apply much charm to gain the approval of those you deal with in your daily affairs. There is often much talent and creativity associated with this aspect.

Sun trine Pluto

The Sun in your chart is trine Pluto giving you a highly evolved power of concentration and will. You have a way of mobilizing your talents to reach your goals. You have many leadership abilities, but you may not be so interested in leadership. You focus instead on your personal agenda. You often display an attitude of righteous indignation toward those who bend the truth and take advantage of others. You are an extremely perceptive person. There is much investigative skill associated with this aspect, and your insight in human motivations can serve you well in fields of behavior sciences. You may not always agree with people, but you understand them very well. Moon opposed Uranus

The Moon and Uranus form an opposition in your chart. This opposition suggests a conflict in your life regarding emotional matters. The Moon denotes emotions and Uranus produces unstable situations. Thus, you may be called on to deal with unpredictable emotions that may appear as nervous tension. It may require conscious effort on your part to maintain a responsible role in your domestic affairs.

Moon opposed Saturn

The opposition between the Moon and Saturn suggests a negative mental attitude and often a restriction of the spontaneous flow of ideas. Intellectual responses are somewhat slowed. Even if you are very bright, the inability to express self in other than a prosaic manner often hides real mental abilities. Thus, you are more contemplative than conversational, but nonetheless a good listener. Venus conjunct Mars

The conjunction between Venus and Mars shows a strong desire nature needing expression. You are the aggressor in relationships with the opposite sex, and you are ever eager and aggressive in making social contacts, as well. Artistic endeavors may be an active outlet for your hyperactive nature.

Moon square Mercury

The square formed between the Moon and Mercury suggests conflict between your mind and your emotions. You have difficulties making reasonable judgments because your feelings get in the way. Irrational decisions place you at odds with people sometimes, and you have the feeling that you're being treated unfairly when this may not be the case. You dwell on trivial personal matters and may have a real sense of insecurity.

Mercury square Uranus

Mercury in a square aspect with Uranus speeds the perceptions, and quickens the intuitions. At times you can be erratic in your drive to be independent. Your speech can become sarcastic and brusque, and mental energies can be wasted in temperament. You love a battle of wits and will take the other side of just about any argument just for the fun of it.

Mercury trine Neptune

The aspect between Mercury and Neptune suggests you're a practical idealist with an intuitive mind. Because your intuition is so highly developed, you understand what motivates others in their relationships with you. You have an artistic imagination and the skill to express it well. You can visualize objects or processes in your mind, much as though you were looking at a finished product. In this regard, your mind is very inspirational. You communicate effectively, and with a flair for dramatic delivery.

Mercury square Saturn The square between Mercury and Saturn suggests mental restraint and strong ties to traditional ways of thinking. Mental processes are on the pessimistic side. You worry too much, often about unimportant details. You have much concern about succeeding or failing to succeed. Your education may have been rigidly disciplined and conforming to traditional doctrine. There is a tendency because of this, to uphold the established order and resist change. Numerology

A = 1

L = 3

A = 1

S = 1

T = 2

O = 6

R = 9

1 + 3 + 1 + 1 + 2 + 6 + 9 =23

2 + 3 = 55 Destiny number

http://astrology-numerology.com/num-birthname.html

The number 5 Destiny suggests that the direction of growth in your lifetime will be toward becoming a harbinger of change, freedom, and progressive thought and action. The number 5 Destiny potentially endows you with the wonderful characteristic of multi-talents and versatility. You must develop in ways allowing you to do so many things well. The tone of the number 5 is the constructive use of freedom, and in your drive to attain this freedom, you must be the master of adaptability and change.As you mature, you must become good at presenting ideas and knowing how to approach people to get what you want. Naturally, this will give you an edge in any sort of selling game and spells easy success when it comes to working with people in most jobs. Whatever you do, you have the capacity to be clever, analytical, and a very quick thinker.You must learn to accept changes as they come along and avoid clinging to the outdated. Avoid rebellion, and focus on enlightenment and progression thinking that will benefit mankind. You life is broadened by gaining an understanding and an appreciation of all kinds of people.The Destiny 5 will be welcome in many varied professional environments. The public sector is a natural for you because you must administer to all peoples. The media, advertising, promotion, publicity, all types of selling, and entertainment are all potential fields that may interest you. Settling on a single career may not be in the cards for you, as you are in a continuous state of flux brought by constantly changing interests. Alastor: Jan 24 1896 Charlie: July 3 before 1830s Husk: age 60-75Died in 1970s1970-75 = 1895VA birthdate Dec 10 Dec 10 1895 Niffty: age 22Died in 1950s1950-22 = 1928 March 22 1928 Vaggie/Vagatha: died in 20142014 – 22 = 1992Voice actor birthdate May 10May 10 1992 Angel Dust/Anthony: died in his 30s 1947Voice actor birth date June 17 19951947 – 30 = 1917 June 17 1917

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel theory #alastor

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notarelationship · 5 years

Text

One Big Happy Family - Chapter 2/2

Another entry in the series: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Summary: It’s never the right time to meet the in-laws, is it? Kurt and Blaine have surprise guests.

Rated: G Characters: Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson-Hummel, Pam Anderson Words: ~4800 AU, Mashup with the 1960′s US tv series Bewitched Warnings: None Chapters: 2 of 2

Notes: And Chapter 2!

Read the rest of the verse:

I Married A Witch - AO3, tumblr

One Big Happy Family - AO3

thanks to my beta @honeysucklepink!

The neighborhood tour goes smoother than Kurt could hope for. Carole manages to slip her arm through Blaine’s right at the start of their walk, and she deflects some of the more invasive questions he knows his dad wants to ask. Kurt has an uneasy feeling that this short trip is going to last an eternity.

Kurt tries to convince his dad that they should have dinner at a local Italian restaurant, but Burt insists they just go back to Kurt’s place and order Chinese food. It’s one of Burt’s favorite things to do, so Kurt relents, but he’s sure Burt just wants a quiet place to start his real line of questioning with Blaine. They get settled back at Kurt’s apartment and Kurt wanders off to the kitchen to place their order.

When he rejoins Blaine and his parents all sitting in the living room they are in mid conversation, but it’s Carole talking, so he’s not too worried. Blaine smiles at him, but doesn’t look like he’s been raked over by Burt yet. Kurt spares a glance at his dad, who seems to be content to listen, at least for the moment.

“So how long have you been a teacher Blaine?” Carole asks. “Kurt said you teach kindergarten?”

“Um, yes, yes I do. And I’ve been teaching for just three years. I have one more class in early development to take to finish my masters.”

“And when will you be taking that?” Burt asks.

“I’ll be taking it during the school year, at night.”

“I didn’t realize you had another class to take,” Kurt says, momentarily surprised, but sitting down next to his husband on the couch and tangling his fingers in Blaine’s. Blaine gives him a grateful smile. “Did you tell me that and I forgot already?” Kurt instantly regrets saying anything when he sees the suspicious look on his dad’s face.

“Actually I don’t think I did,” Blaine answers, oblivious to Burt’s expression. “I’ll have to head up to Columbia two nights a week for the semester, then do some in-class certification.”

“You didn’t know that Kurt?” Burt asks, and Kurt sees Carole roll her eyes.

“We haven’t really got around to talking about the fall schedule yet, Dad. As I told you on the phone, school doesn’t end for a couple weeks and Blaine is busy. Besides, we’re really focused on getting the apartment ready to sell, so we can start looking for something a little bigger.”

“So what do you do to keep yourself busy in the summers?” Carole asks. Kurt appreciates that she’s trying to keep the conversation to simple topics, even if he can see his dad waiting to pounce.

“Oh!” Blaine genuinely grins, and Kurt can’t help but smile too. Blaine’s smile was one of the things that had captivated him from the start. “I teach music too, to kids mostly, so in the summer I have some extra classes during the week.”

“Oh, do you teach singing?” Burt asks.

“No, at least no one’s ever asked.” Blaine’s hands are flitting around a little, obviously nervous in front of Burt, and Kurt wonders if he can will Blaine to relax just with his thoughts. “I’m not sure I’d be a good vocal coach, but I teach piano and guitar, and once someone asked for ukulele lessons - that was fun, I sort of had to teach myself along the way that time.”

“You do this in your apartment?”

“Uh huh. The front room - you walk right past it before the living room, is set up as my studio. I teach a couple of days after school now, and sometimes on Saturdays. But I’m trying to keep Saturdays free now so Kurt and I can have that time together.” Blaine looks over at Kurt and smiles softly. Burt just grunts.

“What about your family? Are they in the area?”

“Burt, give the boy a break,” Carole scolds. She’s gentle but Burt doesn’t pursue it further.

“It’s okay,” Blaine answers. “I know this was a bit of a surprise, and we have a lot to learn about each other.” Kurt is impressed. “My mother has an apartment in the city, but her primary residence is near Boston,” Blaine says.

“Primary?” Burt is leaning forward in his chair, like he always does when he watches college football, so Kurt steps in to try to take some of the heat off Blaine.

“Blaine’s mother grew up in Europe, Dad,” Kurt tries to explain. He even thinks that’s right, although he’s doesn’t know the exact history of Blaine’s family; every time Kurt asks more probing questions Blaine gets evasive with his answers - but he’s pretty sure this will satisfy his dad for the moment. He can get more details from Blaine later, before they have to introduce them to each other. “She came to the states after she and Blaine’s father broke up.”

Burt scowls a little, but it’s mild, and Kurt is pretty sure he’s the only one who catches it, Carole had pulled Blaine’s attention away from Burt again, and Kurt is going to have to raid the Vogue sample closet for the scarf and the Hermés bag to thank her for her help this weekend.

“So how are things at Vogue honey?” Carole asks.

“Oh, so good,” Kurt leaps at the question. “We have a busy schedule coming up. We’ve started planning the spring issue already so there are photo shoots to prepare, and we are doing final retouching on the fall issue so that can get to print.” Kurt’s about to continue when Blaine excuses himself and leaves the room. Kurt watches him for a moment, then goes on telling Carole about the photo shoots, but when Blaine doesn’t return in a few minutes he starts to worry.

Kurt’s about to get up to make sure his husband is okay when Blaine comes back into the living room, eyes wide and mouth tight, and shakes his head once, so Kurt doesn’t ask what’s going on (but that answers the question about whether or not Blaine can communicate with him telepathically, which is a little disappointing Kurt has to admit). Less than a minute later the doorbell rings.

“Ooh that must be dinner.” Kurt jumps up and heads to the door, not hearing Blaine call after him until he already had has one hand on the doorknob.

When he opens the door he is not greeted by his favorite delivery person, but by an attractive, slightly older woman, with striking grey streaks in her hair, and hazel eyes so identical to Blaine’s that Kurt is momentarily speechless. She’s dressed in a navy and silver caftan-like dress that Kurt estimates must have cost in the thousands of dollars. He has never seen this woman before, not even in pictures, but his heart leaps into his throat because she can only be one person.

“You must be Kirby,” she says, holding her hand out in a gesture that clearly expects Kurt to kiss the back of it.

“It’s Kurt, Mother,” Blaine corrects tersely as he appears at Kurt’s side. “As I am sure you know.” Blaine looks at Kurt. “Mother, this is my husband. Kurt Hummel.” She hmms and looks Kurt over, but he does manage to take her hand. “Kurt, this is my mother. Pamela Anderson.”

Kurt wants to laugh but nothing comes out; he recovers quickly though. “It’s an unexpected pleasure. Blaine has told me so much about you.”

Pam looks innocently at Blaine. “You said come by for dinner this weekend, didn’t you Blaine dear? Did I get the date wrong?”

Kurt looks at Blaine, who is glaring at his mother but doesn’t say anything.

“No, it’s -” Kurt is sure this evening will turn into a disaster of some intensity, but until he can get Blaine alone to find out exactly how worried he should be, he lets his perfect host instincts kick in and rolls with it. “It’s perfect. It just so happens that my parents are here for the weekend. You should definitely join us.”

Kurt ushers his mother-in-law into the apartment, and into the living room where Burt and Carole are looking confused.

“Dad, Carole, this is Blaine’s mother, Pam Anderson.” Kurt introduces, and Burt stands and looks at Kurt.

“Yes, um, I forgot that I told her she could come over this weekend and we’d have dinner,” Blaine explains, covering for the surprise.

“Well I wanted to meet your new husband dear. This was all so sudden.”

“That’s what I said,” Burt says to Pam. “I didn’t even know Kurt was dating someone new and he calls me and tells me he’s married -”

“That’s enough Dad,” Kurt stops him. “We all know Blaine and I had a whirlwind courtship, but the important thing to remember is that we’re both happy.” The last thing Kurt needs right now is his dad bellowing about how his and Blaine’s marriage was too spur of the moment.

Luckily, before Burt can start up again, the door buzzer goes off again, and this time it is the delivery person with their food. Kurt doesn’t want to leave his dad alone with Blaine’s mother, but he does want at least a moment to speak to Blaine privately, so he asks Blaine to join him to set the table. He shares a meaningful look with Carole and just hopes she can keep everything under control.

“Blaine what is going on?” Kurt whispers. He wonders if Blaine could put them them in some kind of a cone of silence, but he doesn’t say it.

“Kurt I am so - she just showed up in the kitchen!” Blaine whispers back. “When I got up before I knew she was here. I wanted to cut her off before she just appeared in the living room. I tried to get her to leave but she was not taking no for an answer after I told her your parents were here. I told her that if she wanted to stay for dinner she had to ring the buzzer like a normal person and come in through the front door.” Blaine’s arms were crossed over his chest and he was tapping his foot, something he did when he was angry or frustrated. “She’s the one who changed the furniture,” Blaine whispers. “This has the potential to be a very big disaster.”

Kurt nods. “Oh I know. Your mom and my dad? We’ll just have to try to keep the conversation light. Carole will help. She already trying to keep my dad from - I don’t know what, dragging me back to Ohio? I have no idea what he’s actually thinking. This is all so weird.”

“I know exactly what my mother is thinking and I’d like to keep any of her hijinx under control this evening.”

“How bad could it get?” Kurt is genuinely curious, although he’d like to keep the evening from getting completely out of control. Blaine’s eyebrows rise so high they practically leave his forehead. "Disaster. Right," he murmurs, taking the stack of plates out to the dining table.

Once the table is set and all of the various dishes laid out Kurt makes the few steps to the living room to gather everyone.

“So did you know Blaine was dating Kurt before they sprung this on us?” Kurt can hear his dad talking to Pam.

“Not exactly, but I could tell something was going on with Blaine” Her tone sounds more amused than Burt’s, but there is an edge that Kurt is sure he doesn’t want to explore without Blaine there to help navigate. “I know my son, and he was definitely acting different.”

“Alright everyone, dinner is ready,” he interrupts, stepping through the high arch to the living room. “If you’ll join Blaine and I at the table we can continue this conversation with me and Blaine rather than have you talk about us behind our backs.” Kurt can feel the edge behind his comment, but he’s not particularly interested in letting the evening get too far out of his control. He gives his dad a warning look as he walks past.

Pam takes the head of the table, seemingly oblivious to Blaine’s frustrated fussing as he moves platters and dishes on the table to fractionally different positions. Blaine was already agitated by the sudden appearance of Kurt’s parents, but since his mother’s arrival his energy has been frenetic. Kurt is trying not to panic himself.

Blaine and Kurt take seats next to each other on one side of the table, and Burt and Carole sit across from them. Burt’s eyes light up when he spies the plate of egg rolls, and Carole gives him the go ahead to eat whatever he wants this evening, effectively distracting him at least for the moment.

“Blaine?” It’s Pam, and she’s raised one carefully sculpted eyebrow in the direction of her son.

“It’s Chinese food, Mother. We didn’t know you were coming or I’d have made other arrangements.” Kurt notices the fingertip of her left hand tapping on the table, and wonders for a second if she’s going to conjure up her own meal right there in front of Burt. “Several of the dishes are steamed, I’m sure you can find something you like.”

“You don’t care for Chinese food?” Kurt asks. Blaine really has not talked much about his mother, other than that bizarre first day in the hotel, so Kurt doesn’t really know what to expect, other than that Blaine finds her somewhat difficult to deal with. Kurt can see as much, even with just these few interactions, but he also knows that relationships between parents and children can come with a lot of baggage, and he’s as determined to have his mother-in-law like him as he is for his own father to accept Blaine into their family. Thankfully, he’s not worried about Carole at all, and he spares a moment to smile at his step-mother across the table. Maybe she’d like that navy Calvin Klein shift dress he’s had stashed in the closet in his office for a special occasion.

Pam just hums in response to Kurt’s question. Blaine answers, “The MSG doesn’t agree with her.”

“Oh.” Kurt sits and reached for an egg roll of his own. “I don’t think this place uses -” he stops talking after a pleading glance from Blaine. “Better safe than sorry though,” he finishes. He smiles in the direction of his mother-in-law, but she’s looking at Burt and Carole as if she’s conducting an inspection.

“So, where did you get married?” Carole asks, distracting Kurt away from Pam. “Did you get married at one of those Elvis chapels? I always thought that would be fun.”

“Well in fact there was someone dressed as Elvis at the wedding,” Kurt answers, trying to play up the fun part of their nuptials. He holds back on telling them about the drag queen, at least for now. “I think that’s part of the package.”

“Did you get any pictures?” Carole asks. Kurt knows and appreciates that she is trying to keep the conversation light, but he can sense the suspicious interest radiating off of both Burt and Pam, and he’s at a bit of a loss at how to battle it. Blaine has so far been silent next to him, but his leg is jiggling under the table and Kurt is starting to worry about him just a little.

“Yes there was one photo included in the wedding package,” Kurt decides to talk to Carole rather than try to include everyone. Maybe they’ll all be content to sit and listen.

“You have one photo of your wedding?” Burt asks. So much for being content. “That’s it?”

“Well we didn’t exactly plan it, Dad. As you already know.”

“I do know.” Burt frowns. He obviously wants to ask more questions. Kurt decides to roll the dice.

“You obviously have some questions, Dad. Why don’t you just ask me? We’re all here, let’s get this all out in the open.” Kurt glares at his father. He’s not sure this is really a good idea, but he’s got Blaine and together they can handle their parents. “What is it that bothers you about my marrying Blaine - who I love, Dad.”

That takes the wind out of Burt’s sails, but only for a moment. Everyone is watching Kurt and Burt.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I have questions, Kurt. First off, you can tell me how my son, who spent all of first grade designing elaborate weddings for his Power Rangers, complete with multiple costume changes, wedding playlists and menus with a vegan option - weddings that I attended more than one of I might add - and who has no less than five overstuffed wedding binders still under his bed at home - you can tell me how his wedding ‘just happens’ at an Elvis chapel in Las Vegas, without a tuxedo, or a string quartet, or so much as a word to his dad!” Burt almost chokes on his last word, but he holds his ground.

“Burt!” Carole turns to stare at Burt before Kurt can say anything.

“Those sound like perfectly reasonable questions to me,” Pam interjects, her tone almost too mild, before turning to look at her son. “Blaine, dear?”

Kurt, still stunned by his dad’s outburst, turns to look at his husband, but Blaine is staring at the table, gripping the edge with both hands. Before Kurt can react to anything, Blaine is pushing away from the table with a mumbled excuse me. Kurt hears the click of a door shutting and it pulls him out of his shock. He stands, glaring at Pam too for good measure as he throws his napkin on the table.

“What the hell, Dad?” Is all he can manage before he goes off in search of Blaine.

Kurt doesn’t think Blaine would have shut himself in the bedroom so he heads for the bathroom. The door is shut, so he knocks quietly. “Blaine, it’s me.”

He hears a click and sees the knob turn and the door drift open a few inches. Kurt opens it enough to slip through, and sees Blaine half sitting on the counter tipping a glass of what looks like whisky into his mouth. He watches as Blaine drains the glass then toss it into thin air.

“I’m so sorry Kurt.” He tilts his head and Kurt can see his face. He looks more defeated than upset.

“Why? You didn’t do anything. Our collective parents, on the other hand, they could use a Groupon for an etiquette class.” Blaine chokes out a single laugh. Mission accomplished.

Blaine shakes his head. “No that’s not - I mean yes. My mother needs to go to etiquette camp.” Blaine hugs himself and sighs. “But what I meant is, I am sorry you didn’t have what you wanted. Your dream wedding. I’m sorry this all turned out,” Blaine waves his hands around, and Kurt flinches, not entirely sure what’s about to appear out of thin air. “Like this.” He shakes his head again and goes back to staring at the floor.

“Blaine.” There have been a couple of times since they got married when Blaine has expressed concern that he somehow tricked Kurt into marrying him, and that if Kurt had any sense he’d want to get out of it. Kurt thinks this is because Blaine hadn’t mentioned the whole being a witch thing, and Kurt has tried to reassure him that that doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t, not to Kurt. So he really wants Blaine to hear what he has to say now. He puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

“Blaine I need you to listen to me, really listen. I love you. So we got married in Vegas, I don’t love you any less because of it.”

“But your binders. All your plans. This isn’t what you wanted.”

Kurt shrugs. “I’m also not a love starved gay teenager with nowhere to put my romantic feelings other than in a wedding binder any more.” Blaine laughs softly. “And if we are going to stand any chance at all against our parents we have to really stay on our toes. Together.”

Kurt pulls him into a kiss then. Not a quick peck on the lips though. He wants Blaine to know, really know, that he wants him. He cradles Blaine’s face with both hands, teasing his tongue into his mouth easily as Blaine gives in to it. Blaine grunts softly and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist moving closer until they are pressed against each other chest to knees. Kurt slides his hands down over Blaine’s shoulders, not stopping until he reaches his ass.

“I really wish we could finish this right here,” Blaine pants, practically into Kurt’s mouth.

“Can’t, mmm, can’t we? You could do that -” Kurt waves a hand over his head, “like at the party? Who would know?” He dives in again, covering Blaine’s mouth with his.

Blaine stops kissing him long enough to mumble my mother, and that’s enough to throw figurative cold water into Kurt’s pants.

“Blaine, I thought you told me she doesn’t know every time we have sex. Because honestly I don’t think I can handle that. And if she did it would explain why she hates me so much.”

Blaine bites his lip with a grin. “No, she doesn’t. But she’d know I was using magic, I’m close enough that she’ll feel it. And it would be harder for me to stop time for her.” Blaine wriggles in Kurt’s arms. “She’d know.”

Kurt sighs dramatically, but they put themselves back together anyway.

“Ready?” Kurt asks once they’re presentable.

Blaine nods. “You go. I need a minute.” Kurt kisses him, a peck on the lips this time, and leaves the bathroom.

Kurt has more than a few things to say to his dad, and is almost sure he’s ready to stand up to Pam too - although she hasn’t really said that much, so he may just let Blaine handle her when he thinks it’s appropriate.

“Dad,” he starts as he nears the dining room. “We need to -”

Kurt stops and stares, not sure that he’s actually seeing the sight in front of his eyes. There is a small pig on the table, its face in a bowl of sesame noodles, and a large chicken just...sitting on a plate. Kurt doesn’t know how long he stares, but he does know he wants to scream and he can’t. He remembers that Pam is there, and when he looks in her direction she is relaxed in her chair, examining her nails.

“Maybe orange,” he thinks he hears her say. She blinks and smiles, turning her hand to show Kurt her new instant manicure. Kurt definitely wants to scream.

“Mother what have you done!” Blaine rushes past him just as the chicken ruffles its feathers and jump-flies off of the table and down the hall. “Fix it. Fix it right now.”

“Blaine?” Kurt finally manages. “What, what is happening. I don’t - where are my parents?”

“You were gone so long,” Pam rolls her eyes. “I didn’t know what to talk to them about.”

Kurt spares a glance at Blaine, then looks back at the pig.

“What do you mean you didn’t know what to talk to them about? You and Burt must have a million more terrible things to say about the fact that Kurt and I are married.”

“Oh we did talk about that. But then he started asking questions about your dad and I really couldn’t be bothered.”

“So you turned them into farm animals?”

Kurt doesn’t know why he didn’t figure it out himself. “Blaine? Blaine change them back.”

“I can’t.” Blaine crosses his arms over his chest angrily and continues to glare at his mother.

“What do you mean you can’t?” The pig on the table that is either his dad or Carole finishes up with the bowl of noodles and crashes over the other containers, sniffling into each one as it picks out its next course. “Do magic. Change them back.” Kurt waves his hands at the pig.

“A witch can’t undo another witch’s magic Kurt. It’s just not possible. My mother will do this.” Blaine turns to her. “Or there will be dire consequences.”

Pam scoffs, but for the first time tonight Kurt can see something that looks like concern in her eyes. Blaine stares her down, and if the circumstances were different Kurt would definitely find it hot. “You wouldn’t,” she challenges.

“Do you honestly think I won’t pick Kurt, Mother?”

Pam flinches and half stands up, and for a split second Kurt isn’t sure she won’t simply make them all disappear. But she sits and they don’t disappear, and Kurt exhales and runs to the living room to try to find the chicken.

“Blaine I’ve never picked up a chicken before!” He corners it, backing away when it flaps its wings menacingly. “Do they bite?” Kurt thinks he can at least chase it back toward the dining room. Blaine runs into the room and snaps at the chicken and it stops flapping around. “I thought you couldn’t do that.”

“I can’t reverse the magic, but I can still do magic on the chicken.” Blaine approaches the bird slowly and picks it up, and Kurt follows him back to the dining room where he sets it on the table with the pig. “Mother?” Blaine prompts.

Pam scowls, but she stands and with an exaggerated flourish and, with an audible crack that sounds just like when lightning struck the tree outside his window when Kurt was eleven, the chicken and the pig turn back into Carole and Burt, the food on the table is all fresh and back to exactly the position it was in before. No signs that a pig or a chicken were ever there...

“- why didn’t he tell me? I had to miss my only son’s wedding, Carole. There was a time when I thought I was never -”

Burt stops talking when he realizes Kurt and Blaine are standing and staring at him.

“When did you get back?”

It takes Kurt a long second to catch up with everything. “Just - just now, Dad.” Kurt swallows and pulls out his chair, and he and Blaine both take their seats. “Dad, I -”

“Mr. Hummel,” Blaine interrupts. He covers Kurt’s hand on the table and gives it a squeeze “I want to apologize for anything I’ve done that made you feel - left out. I know it feels like Kurt and I marrying seems like an impulsive act, and maybe it was.” Burt nods at the acknowledgment. “But Mr. Hummel, I promise you I love your son, and I will do everything in my power to make him happy, and to earn your trust.”

Kurt is not prone to tears, but he has to wipe one away as it threatens to roll down his cheek. He squeezes Blaine’s hand and when Blaine looks at him he knows everything will be fine.

Burt is quiet for a moment before exhaling and rubbing his large hand over his face and the top of his head. Kurt knows he’s looking for the baseball cap that would normally be perched there. He nods at Blaine. “Yeah, um, call me Burt, son. Mr. Hummel was my dad, and he was a mean SOB.”

Kurt does let the tears fall now, and wraps an arm around Blaine in a sideways hug, kissing him on the top of his head. He can see Pam watching the goings on with interest, but she doesn’t react. She is going to be a tougher nut to crack than his dad, it seems.

Sunday night they are back at Blaine’s apartment (and Kurt really needs to start thinking about it as their apartment) - after Burt and Carole have left, and Blaine has assured his mother that he will call her during the week and they will have lunch - where Kurt drags his husband to bed and they burn off the stress of the previous thirty six hours.

“That could have gone worse,” Blaine observes, still sweaty and tucked under Kurt’s arm.

“What do you mean? That was fantastic.” Kurt gives Blaine a playful slap on his shoulder and Blaine giggles.

“I meant this weekend, with all our parents.”

“Oh, that? Yeah, piece of cake,” Kurt agrees. “Let’s never do that again, okay? I really don’t think I can handle my dad as an actual pig more than once in my lifetime.”

Blaine laughs again, and Salem jumps up on the bed; after confirming that they’re done bouncing around, she lays down across Kurt’s feet.

“At least Salem seems to have accepted me into the family,” Kurt observes.

“I never doubted that she would.”

#BBB: one big happy family #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #bewitched au #bewitched bothered and bewildered

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coffee-obsessed-writer · 6 years

Text

The Letters

Dean x Reader (past); Reader x Bobby (present platonic), also some John & Sam Winchester

Summary: They met when they were kids, and stayed in touch once Dean left with his dad and brother. Years later, the Winchesters are back in town and this time their visit changes the entire course of the reader’s life.

Warnings: Some language, character death, depression, angst

Word Count: 4615

A/N: This was from a request by @tiquismiquis for a fic with the song Snuff by Slipknot as the prompt. Song lyrics used in the fic are bolded. I hope you enjoy honey! I really do recommend listening to the song or reading the lyrics. I’ve honestly listened to this so many times now, it's just who I am now. Also, a big thank you to @docharleythegeekqueen for helping me out with this one!!! <3

Everything Tags: @his-paradox @sorenmarie87 @lefthologramdeer @grace-for-sale @redm81 @becs-bunker @docharleythegeekqueen @moonchild-shoshanna @idontfuckingknowgurl

SPN Tags: @soythedemonqueen // @kazosa // @lucifer-in-leather // @perseusandmedusa // @tiquismiquis // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @yorkeylover // @through-thesilver-lining // @illysamorgan // @fictionalabyss // @gettinjoyful // @auntsalgal // @stuckupstucky // @miss-spnm0mma // @teller258316 // @sphollis-blog // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @assassinofmasyaf // @mahalaraewolfe // @negans-wife

It started innocently enough, around the time when your sister Annie became sick and admitted to the hospital like so many of the other kids in the neighborhood.

When you were 12, Dean Winchester rolled into town with his dad, John, and brother, Sam. Your dad was the Sheriff, and you can remember him having them over quite a bit. All your father would tell you was that they were there to help Annie and that you should be hospitable to the boys as they were around your age. After dinner, it was time for the grown-ups to talk, and you, Dean and Sam were exiled beyond the closed wooden doors to do whatever you wanted. Mostly, you and Dean played on your Nintendo while Sam begged for a turn.

This went on for more than a week and, in that short time, Dean became your best friend. He helped distract you from the idea of losing your sister by thinking of things you could do for her when she finally came home from the hospital. Dean made you laugh and told you exciting stories about their travels; he was the coolest boy you’d ever met. He always made you smile and feel like you could handle anything that happened.

When it was over, and time for them to leave, you remember crying. You put your arms tightly around Dean’s neck and asked him to write to you when he could. He said he would try. They had done what they came to do, saved Annie and all the other kids in the town, and disappeared into the dark of night.

An occasional letter would come every few months, and while you knew he had no permanent address, he told you to send them to someone named Bobby Singer, and that he would get them when he could. He talked about the different schools his dad would make him go to, the kids that he met and the ones that continually gave him and Sam a hard time. Dean wrote about how hard it was to be a good big brother to Sam and a good son to John. Once, he even confided in you that he’d thought of taking off on his own, but in the end, he couldn’t leave Sam.

When you wrote back, you’d tell him not to worry; that he was perfect the way he was because he was always trying. In the last letter you wrote, you got brave enough to admit about a dream you had of him where you kissed. He never replied to that one though. Eventually, the letters stopped, and over time, memories of Dean started to fade.

Seven years later, it happened again. Only you and Annie were older, and the memories of the previous threat were forefront in your mind. When you heard the whispers and rumblings of the townsfolk talking about all the children falling ill, you knew that whatever reason the Winchesters had come before, was happening again.

You’d gone to your father about it, hoping he had a quick way to call John back to town. Now six months away from retirement, your father waved you off, asking, “John, who?” As if none of it had ever happened.

“But, Annie… when we were kids. She got really sick, remember? All the kids did, dad. John, Dean, Sam… they came here in that old black car. They ate at this table! I was friends’ with his boys!”

You turned to Annie for help, but she would shrug and simply apologize. “I’m sorry sissy, I honestly don’t remember being in the hospital.”

He just stared into his meal and pretended not to hear anything you were saying. It was both infuriating and scary because at times you doubted it ever really happened. Then you would reread Dean’s old letters and know for certain, it had.

Taking matters into your own hands, you searched your room until you found the address Dean had given you so many years before. Using the limited internet the library on your college campus offered, you searched for the name Bobby Singer with the address you had in South Dakota. Calling several of the numbers listed, you finally found the one you were looking for. The old, gruff voice on the other end was short and dismissive at first, but as soon as you invoked the Winchester name, his tone changed completely. He listened to your story intently and promised you that he would get in touch with John; that someone would be there soon to handle whatever was happening to the children of the town.

Within twenty-four hours, you heard the rumble of the old black car’s engine in front of the house. The Winchesters were back and ready to help. As if no time had passed, you found yourself one again flinging your arms around Dean’s neck and hugging him tightly. Ignoring John’s disapproving eye, Dean hugged you back and seemed genuinely happy to see you.

“It’s been a minute,” he said shoving his hands into the pocket of his coat; a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. “How’ve you been?”

“Not time for that Dean,” John barked, then turned to you, “Bobby says your father is turning his head to the situation?”

“He won’t acknowledge its happening again. Whatever it is,” you said and finished with a frustrated sigh.

“He never explained it to you?” Dean asked surprised but quickly backed off with one look from John.

“That’s her father’s choice, son. Not yours to judge.”

“Yes sir,” Dean said and took a step back from you.

It was the next night, that you and Dean had your first real encounter. Somehow John had broken through your father’s wall and convinced him to do whatever it was he had to do. You and Annie, though now technically adults, were banished to your room for the duration of the Winchester’s stay. Annie, who didn’t get to know them the first time, couldn’t have cared less, but you were devastated.

Once she was asleep, you climbed from your window and walked the three miles to the efficiency suits where the Winchesters were staying. You found them in Room 6. John was busy with your dad, and you found Sam and Dean watching a football game and arguing over something stupid. Dean’s face lit up when he saw you at the door and yanked you inside quickly.

You spent most of the evening sat between them and laughing and arguing over whatever was on the television. Sam was tired and excused himself to the bedroom, leaving you and Dean on your own. It took only minutes for him to kiss you, and not too long after that, he had all of you. It hadn’t been your first time, but it was the first time you could understand why people loved sex so much.

Afterward, you asked him the questions you always wanted answers too. What had happened to your sister back then? What was causing it to happen again now? That was when you learned the truth. The truth about what was out there under the surface of civilized society, stirring up bodies and going bump in the night.

Shocked and scared, Dean was sweet and held you. He listened to your questions and was patient while you tried to process all he was saying. When you had to go, he walked you the three miles home and waited until you signaled him from your room that all was well.

It wasn’t.

A dark figure was hunched over your sister’s almost lifeless body. You turned back towards the window and called for him. But it was too late. It flew past you with a high-pitched scream and hurled itself out of the window, knocking you down in the process.

From there it was a blur. Your mother barging into the room, hearing Dean pounding on the front door, Annie’s body before you with her skin grey and lifeless. All you could remember was falling to your knees and screaming her name before the world went black around you.

Her death was ruled as natural due to health issues. The Winchesters didn’t stay for the funeral. Two days after Annie died, your father came to you and told you the truth that you’d already heard from Dean. After that conversation, it was never brought up again. Your parents mourned for their daughter and completely left you out of the grieving process.

Two months later, the letters started again. They were much more detailed and heartfelt than the first time, and way more personal. Dean poured his heart out in apologies about Annie, expelling the guilt he felt at her loss.

“…the losses pile up, and sometimes it hurts bad. The kind of bad you didn’t think was possible. But you gotta keep going. For Annie, for me…”

You didn’t have any ill will against him, but the loathing you felt towards yourself was vast and deep. At times his words were all you had to help you through the worst of the days. When he opened up to you, you felt more at ease. The way he trusted you made you feel important and needed.

“…stuck in another crappy motel for a few nights. Maybe if you were here it’d be better. I think about you a lot. I probably shouldn’t, but can’t always help it…”

With each new piece of mail, Dean told you things that you imagined he would have never repeated to anyone else. You wrote back, asked him how he was able to live with what he saw happen to people. Begged him to tell you how to make sense of it all in your head. But he never answered those questions.

You assumed he hadn’t been to Bobby’s in a while to get the letters, because he never answered your specific questions, only wrote in a stream of consciousness that one usually reserved for their personal journals. Dean made you feel like you were his personal journal the way he confessed everything in his head and heart.

“…sometimes it’s hard to keep my head up and focused. I need too, or they could both get hurt. Sammy’s hunting less and less, fighting with Dad more. How the hell am I supposed to keep them both alive when they can’t stop trying to be right all the time…”

Some days, his letters were all you had. You would take out the old shoebox and read through his thirteen-year-old handwriting and smile. One of the last letters though was the one that gave you the hope that things could get better… one day.

“…I sorta wish I could come get you and we could just take off. Let my dad and your parents handle shit and just be gone. We deserve that, don’t we? No monsters, just a happy life somewhere. Promise I’d let you have the first turn on Super Mario!”

Then, three months later, the final letter came. It was about a year after Annie’s death. Dean went into detail about how Sam was leaving them and going away to college. He said this would be the last one. That he was going out to hunt on his own, breaking away from John whenever he could and he wanted to do so with no attachments.

“…I gotta prove to him I can do this. With Sam gone, I’m all he’s got. So, like a good soldier, I gotta do what I hate doing. No distractions. I can’t have them with what I gotta do. I only wish you weren’t my friend, because then I could hurt you in the end. But you are so much more than my friend, so I have to hurt you and say goodbye. I hope you’ll be alright and not let any of what happened eat you up. Please don’t hate me...

- Dean”

Everything changed after that. College, a part-time job—it all seemed pointless and obsolete. Without his letters, you found yourself lost in the mundane parts of merely existing. Your parents never really recovered from Annie’s death and had stopped speaking to you completely.

On the anniversary of that night, your father came to your room and told you that you had one month to pack up and go live on campus. He said they didn’t blame you for her death, but their expressions and body language betrayed the lie.

The next day, you had a bag packed, withdrew all the money from your savings account and left home, never to return.

Now, years later, as you sat in the deserted parking lot, the memory of that day you left felt as fresh as the blood on your hands was. It was the day you started hunting. Partially to try and seek revenge for Annie, and partially to try and find Dean. The hope he’d given you through the letters was all you had pushing you forward. So, you used it, along with everything you could learn about monsters, and set out to hunt.

Twelve years into hunting, and you’d only ever caught a whiff of their names. Sam and Dean Winchester, the hunters who let the Devil free and stopped the apocalypse from ending the World, were just dust in the wind. Some reported their deaths, other hunters told tales of killing a vamp nest with them somewhere down in Louisiana, or maybe a werewolf in Oregon. A few times you’d driven to the address in South Dakota that you had for Bobby Singer, but never worked up the nerve to knock.

After a few years, you could feel yourself become cold to the job. It became about lashing out at the beasts you hunted and less about revenge or finding Dean. The box of his letters was tucked away in the trunk of your car, and no longer opened. Occasionally, at night when the whiskey was doing its job, you’d close your eyes and remember the night you spent with him and then chastise yourself for girlhood fantasies.

“It was never real,” you’d moan into the emptiness around you, “none of it. I was just another girl, from just another town.”

The silence spoke back in volumes, your parents’ voices in your ears blaming you for loving Dean more than Annie. They hadn’t said it of course, but your inner dialogue couldn’t care less about the actual facts and only plagued you with simulated situations that hurt the most.

The hangover was brutal, but you were up and functioning the next day. A new case involving a mysterious death had you dressed in your “work” attire as an investigative journalist doing a piece for some random magazine. A well-dressed, good-looking older man approached you, flashing his FBI badge quickly and questioning your presence around the crime scene. After a few moments of conversation, you realized he too was a hunter.

“Stayin’ local?” he asked as he handed you his false Agency card.

“Yeah. You know that place on Main, uh, Frankie’s, I think,” you asked, tucking the card into your pocket without looking. He nodded. “Meet me there at eight to compare notes?”

“Eight it is,” he replied, and turned back towards the crime scene.

Later that night, he entered the bar looking far different from the nice suit and wing tips. Now, he was dressed in layers of flannel with a blue puffer vest and trucker cap.

He saw you sitting alone at the table and headed your way. As he sat, the waitress approached and took your order for another round, including a few shots each of bourbon.

You nodded a greeting and smiled, “I’m (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), good meeting you.”

“Bobby Singer,” he said holding out his hand, “don’t believe I remember you from ‘round the usual watering holes. Nice to meet ya.”

You were shaking his hand, but hearing his name hindered your ability to speak your own name. “Bobby, Singer? Bobby Singer from South Dakota?”

“The one and only,” he said and narrowed his eyes at you, “whoever spilled the beans about me, hope it was all good things.”

“We’ve spoken before, actually,” you said and quickly swallowed one of the shots that just arrived. “Years ago. I called you lookin’ for John Winchester.”

Bobby sat back in his seat and let his memory wander. His face lit up in recognition and he nodded. “Right, I do remember now. Had to be ‘bout, what, ten years ago?”

“Twelve.”

“I’ll be damned. John never did tell me how that went. Everything go alright?”

Vile rose in your throat just as your stomach processed the bourbon. You reached for the second shot, shaking your head as you slammed the glass back to the table.

“No, it didn’t.”

Bobby grabbed his first shot and took it down. “I’m real damn sorry, kid.”

You couldn’t help but cackle, “It’s been a long time since I was a kid.”

“Well, the sentiment’s the same. Real sorry for whoever it was you lost.”

You studied Bobby’s face and saw in it the kind of compassion only one who’s suffered in the same way could give. “Guess we all have a story, huh?”

“Sure do. But, can’t do much about those now, can we? Better to focus on what we can do.”

“Bobby, before we talk about this case… I gotta ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“I used to mail letters to your house, for Dean. Do you know if he ever got them?”

Bobby’s face fell into a look of regret. “Oh damn, the letters, they were from you?”

“Did he?” Years of pent up love, rage, hope, and despair were wrapped up in those two words, and your ability to handle them or not was solely hinged on Bobby’s answer.

“He got a couple when you all were kids. But John found’em, made him stop writing to ya. He told me if I got any more I should burn ‘em.”

“What about later on, when they came back… I sent more then, too, did he—”

Bobby shook his head. “I didn’t burn ‘em, but I didn’t give ‘em to Dean either. I’m sorry. John was fightin’ with those boys constantly. Just didn’t seem the right time. I always planned on givin’em to him, but things haven’t exactly been light and breezy all these years.”

Your head was swirling in bourbon and revelations. All this time you both loved and hated Dean for giving you hope and then taking it away with no warning. But maybe because he didn’t get the letters, he thought you didn’t care and so he let go first. All these years later, did it still matter? Yes, you thought, it did.

You grabbed for your beer, but Bobby gently laid his hand over it so you couldn’t take it. “Easy, alright? There is work to do,” he paused, and saw that your head was not on the case, nor would it be. “Did he write to you? Cause I do remember John tellin’ him to knock that off.”

You nodded, and Bobby released his hand from your bottle. Pulling from it slowly, you finally put it down and smiled painfully. “Have a damn box full of bullshit that meant nothing.”

Bobby sat forward, his index finger wagging at you with each word. “Bullshit? Look girly, if Dean was writing you enough letters to fill a box, you best believe it wasn’t bullshit. That boy wouldn’t bother with ya if it ya didn’t mean somethin’ to him.”

Bobby dug deeply into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Within seconds he navigated his contacts and showed you Dean’s name on the screen. “We can call him right now if you wanna.”

Your heart felt like it could beat itself right out of your chest. This was the closest you’ve been to Dean Winchester in a long time and the temptation was overwhelming. You thought back to his last letter when he told you that you were more than a friend, and that’s why he had to hurt you by saying goodbye. That’s who Dean was. He sacrificed what he wanted for the greater good. It was why he was probably still alive now, and still hunting.

“All the stories about them true?” you asked, still staring at Bobby’s phone, now laid on the table in front of you.

“Which ones?”

“Lucifer, the apocalypse? Did they really stop it?”

Bobby nodded and sighed. “Had a front row seat for the show myself. Watched it all go down.”

It was your turn to sit back in your chair as the knowledge you’d just gained sunk in.

“Wanna make the call?” Bobby asked again, nudging the phone towards you.

“No.” You slid the phone back to him and saw he was unsure of what to say. “I know the truth now, that’s all that matters. If he’d gotten the letters, maybe he wouldn’t be doing all the good he’s doing,” you shrugged and finished your beer, fully knowing that you meant what you said, but deep down you still believed you meant nothing to Dean.

“That’s one way to look at it,” he said and watched in confusion as you stood up and threw a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “What’s that for?”

“My way of apologizing for running out on ya,” you said, “I can’t stay here Bobby. I’ll be too tempted to make that call. Dean and I… we’re better off where we are. If we were face to face after all these years, wouldn’t be good for anyone. But, I don’t trust myself to leave it be. It’s just better if I go.”

You forced a smile and clapped him on the shoulder before heading out the door. “Good to finally put a face with the legend though.”

Sitting in the front seat of your car and taking some time to sober up, you finally felt like you could move on; both with your current location and the rest of your life. Bobby could handle the current case, and you could do anything you wanted too. Continue hunting, start a new life somewhere else… it didn’t matter. You knew the truth, and that helped, but it was too late for you and your heart. You’d lost your smile years before, and your heart shortly thereafter. Sadly, you couldn’t see any way to revive either one.

You started your car and set out on the open road. Your mind kept circling around to Dean and how close you’d come to him again and began to replay the childish fantasy you once lived for. You could feel the pain seeping in, and suddenly jerked the car to the side of the road right before a long stretch of a bridge.

You popped the trunk and went around to the back. Digging through your tools you found the box with Dean’s letters and pulled out the last one he wrote. You shoved it in your pocket, closed the box and started walking towards the middle of the bridge. Leaning over the edge, you opened the lid and watched as the letters cascaded down to the river below. Some caught on the wind and were swept away, others landed in the icy water.

As you watched them disappear into the darkness, you looked up at the stars and whispered, “I’m done hoping Dean, I’m done. I’m letting you go.”

When you got back to the car, you touched the final one you kept in your pocket. It was a reminder, should the feeling of hope arise again, it would be something that could bring you back to the reality you knew you were meant for–being alone.

Three Days Later…

“Do you know why he wanted us here?” Sam asked as Dean steered the Impala into Singer Automotive. Bobby’s old car was parked in its normal spot and Dean took the one next to it, turning off the engine.

“No, he didn’t really say. Just to come when we could,” Dean shrugged and tucked the keys in his coat pocket. “Don’t mind the visit though, been a while since we’ve been home.”

Sam and Dean entered through the back door without knocking as they usually did. They found Bobby in his normal place behind his desk, hunched over an old book.

“Hey Bobby,” Sam called cheerfully, “How goes it?”

“Heya boys, glad you were able to pop in. I know you keep such a busy schedule these days. Maybe next time I’ll get my secretary to call yours and you can pencil me in,” he retorted sarcastically.

Pushing back from the desk, Bobby rose with a groan, eliciting a concerned look exchanged between the brothers.

“You alright, Bobby? You’re surlier and a little slower than usual,” Dean smirked.

“Watch it, boy, I’ll still run circles around your smartass,” Bobby warned, as he moved past them to the bookshelf on the far wall. “I asked ya here ‘cause I got somethin’ for ya.”

They watched him retrieve a dusty old box that had been tucked away behind years’ worth of clutter. He handed it to Dean, who took it suspiciously and went to sit on the couch with it.

“Now, before you open it up, I gotta say I’m sorry. You should’ve had these years ago.”

“What are they?” Dean asked but didn’t need Bobby’s reply. He touched the tops of the old, yellowed envelopes, and looked up at his surrogate father. Dean’s eyes were wide with an undeterminable emotion that not even Sam could read.

“Dean? What are they?” he asked, glancing between Bobby and his brother.

“Letters,” Bobby answered. “Letters your dad wanted me to burn, but I couldn’t. After he was gone, I forgot about them.”

“Letters from who?” Sam asked, still confused. He sat next to Dean and tried to take one from the box, but Dean smacked his hand away and gave him a warning look.

“Bobby, why now? What in the hell would make you think of these now?” Dean asked, his demeanor getting more irate. “Bobby, please, you gotta tell me… why now?!”

“I sorta worked a case with her last week,” Bobby shrugged and knew by Dean’s expression that he was in for it. “I tried to get her to call you, but she said no.”

“She’s hunting?!” Dean roared and stood from the couch, nearly spilling the box all over the floor.

“Who?” Sam asked again, getting frustrated that neither Bobby nor Dean would answer him. He bypassed Dean this time and grabbed an envelope from the box. When he saw the return address, understanding washed over him. He sat back against the cushions and blew a gust of air from his lips. “Damn. I remember her. I remember you with her. I remember—”

“Shut it, Sam,” Dean mumbled and snatched the letter from his hand. Stepping over him Dean took the box and left the room.

With the box tucked under his arm, Dean went to take a beer from the fridge. He opened it, gulped down half and sat at the small kitchen table with the box in front of him. He started with the first letter. Dean swallowed hard as he pulled the paper from the envelope. It still smelled like her perfume. He slowly unfolded it and desperately tried to fight back all of the memories of her he’d locked away. But no sooner did he see her handwriting and the words, “Dear Dean,” they all came flooding back.

Dean leaned forward in his chair, one hand gripping his hair and cradling his head, the other holding the letter, as one lone tear slowly slid down his cheek as he read the letters he never thought existed.

PART TWO — The Letters: Dear Dean

#dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fan fiction #fan fiction request #song prompt request #song prompt challenge #spn fan fics #dragongirl writes

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