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soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Maribat March 2021 @maribatmarch-2k21

Day 1: Found Family

“Ah! Bonjour!” A cheery voice called, as a short Eurasian girl bound over to the unfairly intimidating mob of tall people with sharp eyes. Chloe had called in a favor. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chloe told me that your tour guide cancelled at the last minute, so she blackmail—sorry, begged me to fill in for them. You are the Wayne’s, non?”

The one at the front of the group, clearly Bruce Wayne since Marinette didn’t live under a rock and had seen the man on several American news broadcasts before, nodded and cleared his throat. Man, was he intimidating. Even when he shot her a dazzling smile that was sure to blind Paparazzi with fake cheer. It was a nice smile, Marinette wasn’t about to deny. But it was empty. Distant. And Marinette wasn’t going to buy it for a second.

“Yes, that’s us. Mademoiselle Bourgeois mentioned she had asked a close friend of hers to take care of our tour.”

Marinette nodded again, clasping her hands behind her back. “I guarantee, you won’t miss anything the tour guide would have shown you. In fact, Chloe mentioned that you all were very curious about the now retired Parisian heroes, right? My former best friend ran the Ladyblog back when they were active. I am more than confident that I can answer any questions you have while we go through the city.”

A boy with a white streak in his hair rose his hand, as if he was in a class and needed to wait to be called on. Which, considering the sheer size of their family, Marinette was actually grateful for. But damn, this was another imposing figure. Slightly taller than even the six-foot-three-inches that Bruce Wayne owned, he was solidly built and rocked a brown leather jacket and ripped black jeans. Marinette smiled and nodded for him to speak.

“How old are you? Because I don’t know if twelve year olds are allowed to do guided tours,” there was an obvious tease in his voice, but there was also legitimate concern in his blue-green eyes. Marinette almost missed that concern amid her quickly building annoyance. She even felt her eyes twitch.

“I’m turning eighteen in a few months if you need to know, Monsieur,” she evened out the bite in her voice with an overly sweet smile. “And if you want to get lost and possibly pickpocketed in the busy streets of Paris, then please continue to make comments on my height. If not, we can begin our tour and you might even enjoy it.”

Several Wayne’s snickered at her comeback, one man in particular elbowing the white haired gentleman with a little too much glee. Even the stoic Bruce laughed softly, and a boy with enough bags under his eyes to make the airport jealous nearly fell over himself with his suppressed laughter.

The man himself just snorted, sending her a lopsided smirk that oddly radiated approval. It was almost as if she had passed some sort of test.

“My name’s Jason, Pixie. You already know B. The guy trying to break my ribs,” he pointedly shoved off the one who had elbowed him, “is Dick. He’s Bruce’s first adoptive casualty. The one that looks like a zombie is Tim, we might need to take a break to get him more coffee before he passes out halfway through. The one who hasn’t stopped glaring at you is Damian, the badass redhead is Barbara but we all call her Babs. The annoying blonde is Stephany, the other cool badass over there is Cass. She doesn’t talk much. And the one trying to pretend he doesn’t know us is Duke.”

Each member he introduced gave her a little wave or nod. Even Damian managed a short nod of acknowledgement before resuming his glare. He looked to be a couple years younger than her, so she just brushed it off as teenage drama.

“Alright then! It is very nice to meet you all. Now, Chloe did inform me that you guys are very multilingual, which is another reason she asked me instead of one of our other friends. If you ever need it, I obviously am fluent in both French and English. But added to that, I am fluent in Cantonese, Mandarin, Italian, and I know basic survival Japanese. I also know French Sign Language, though I’m not sure if that’s very useful for you unfortunately. If you ever need to communicate non-verbally, I will do my best to accommodate that. Now, I believe you guys were scheduled to start the tour with a visit to the Louvre, non? Right this way.”

As Marinette led the large group out of the Grand Paris, they didn’t bother taking time to admire the sights before asking questions.

“Have you ever met one of the heroes?” Dick, who might have been shorter than Jason and Bruce but was muscular enough to still inspire caution (and admiration), asked. His blue eyes seemingly stared right through Marinette as he continued; “If you’re almost eighteen, then they must have been active through a lot of your school career.”

Marinette smiled. “They did only retire last year,” she agreed with a nod. “Yes, I have met all of the Parisian heroes at least once,” she snorted at a stray thought. “In fact, I met Chat Noir quite a lot. You see, my old College was basically ground zero for a lot of akuma attacks. And by a lot, I mean a majority of them,” she shook her head before pausing to get everyone to cross a street. “After a while, Chat Noir started calling me ‘princess’ to make fun of how often he had to save me. He’s an annoying ass.”

Despite her words, everyone behind her could easily hear the fondness there. They all traded glances. What if this was a Lois and SuperMan situation? Regardless, they all had a suspicion that Marinette knew more about the heroes than she let on. Or, at least more about Chat Noir.

“When you say that your school was a hotspot for Akuma attacks,” Bruce spoke up cautiously, his Dad Senses going haywire. He didn’t like how nonchalantly she had said it— she was far too casual. Sure enough, he watched as the muscles between her shoulders stiffened slightly at the conversation change. “What do you mean? Surely it couldn’t have been that bad if the school is still around.”

Marinette sucked her teeth, grimacing. “The school is still there, yeah, but only because of Ladybug’s ability. You’ve heard about the Cure, right?” It was Tim who answered her;

“Yeah. It fixed the damage done during a fight, right?” He asked, tilting his head a little. Marinette ignored her brief thought that the gesture made him look like a curious puppy. She sighed.

“Yeah. But when they say damage, they mean everything. Injuries, collateral. Death,” she said the last example darkly, far too much weight behind the word for it to be meaningless. She heard Jason hiss in sympathy. “But there are good things. The Cure also erased anyone’s memories of dying besides the vague knowledge that it did happen, so there isn’t much trauma there to unpack. Not as much as there could have been anyway,” she assured them. “And I’m one of the lucky ones. I never died, and I was never Akumatized.”

“Hmph,” Damian’s voice cut through the brief silence that followed her admission. She looked back at him to see his sharp green eyes staring right into her. “You don’t honestly believe that’s lucky.” It wasn’t a question. Marinette clenched her jaw, turning around and ignoring him.

Because, no. It wasn’t luck. It wasn’t lucky that she was the only one that remembered everything— all of the deaths, all of the Akumatizations, everything that others mercifully forgot. Since she lived through all of it, she remembered all of it. And survivor’s guilt is nothing to scoff at.

But she wasn’t about to reveal her trauma, or at the very least the full scope of it, to people she had just met and was leading on a tour.

“If you look to the left, you’ll see a statue that was made depicting Ladybug and Chat Noir back during the first years of their activity,” she suddenly told them, gesturing to the still-standing statue. Nobody missed the obvious topic change, but nobody commented on it either. Turns out the statue was something they had been looking forward to seeing in person, Tim even went up to take a few photos with his camera. Barbara took a few circles around the statue, easily pivoting her wheelchair around it as if she was trying to see every angle and imperfection possible. Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight.

“Your family are pretty big fans, huh?” She asked Cass and Duke, the only ones that had stayed back with her. Duke snorted, and Cass gave her a small grin.

“They like to keep up to date with all the heroes,” Duke answered with a shrug. “Since we’re so high profile, it isn’t weird for us to be saved by one here or there even when we’re away from Gotham.”

Marinette just gave him an odd look, furrowing her brows. “But the Miraculous team has been disbanded since HawkMoth was defeated,” she reminded them. “There’s no need for them to save anybody anymore.”

“Old habits,” Cass spoke up softly, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes locked with Marinette’s. “Not easy to break.”

The smaller woman had a feeling that Cass wasn’t talking about her family’s habit of keeping up to date on heroes.

“Alright! We need to head to the next stop or we might not have time to see everything!”

The tour went pretty similarly. The walks between stops were pleasant, and filled with questions about the period of time where HawkMoth was active. Marinette wasn’t even the least bit surprised nor put off; everyone was curious about those years now that the tourism restriction was lifted and people could ask freely about it. Besides the many questions about the Heroes, Marinette found the group to be very pleasant company. They were polite, but also rowdy in a very endearing way. She caught a lot of inside jokes they had with each other, and a lot of good natured teasing and fighting. They even managed to rope her into it somehow, and she found herself snidely teasing Damian or casually threatening Tim with not allowing them a coffee break. She even got to ride on Jason’s shoulders for a bit after he made another comment on her height that she Did Not Appreciate. But the ride she got made it worth it.

But soon the sun was high in the sky, and it was about time for them to take a lunch break. They had all been walking for hours with only a few chances to rest, and honestly Marinette was impressed that none of them seemed too tired out by it.

“Alright,” she put her hands on her hips proudly. “Since some of you won’t stop whining about needing coffee or being hungry— Dick, don’t you dare buy anything from that vendor! I’m gonna lead you all to my parent’s bakery so we can have lunch and caffeinate all of you. And conveniently enough,” she smiled widely. “The bakery is right across the street from my old College! So you’ll be able to get a look at where the majority of Akuma attacks happened, and maybe I can tell you a few specific stories if you want,” she offered. There were a couple cheers (Tim and Dick) from the crowd and everyone seemed pretty pleased with the next step in their tour. Smiling, Marinette turned and began to lead them in the direction of her home.

Sirens blared, a fire truck zooming down the street next to them.

Headed in the same direction.

Marinette frowned, watching it go. “That’s weird. I hope everyone’s okay, whatever happened,” she mused idly. But as they kept going forward, the sirens didn’t get any softer. If anything, they started getting louder again after a while. Marinette was visibly concerned by then, her pace picking up. “This is my neighborhood,” she told the solemn group behind her. “I know everyone on this street—“ they rounded the corner, and Marinette stopped in her tracks. Her world ground to a halt.

There was the fire truck, stopped right in front of her bakery.

Which was completely ablaze.

A string of curses flew out of her mouth, the little Eurasian wasting no more time before sprinting towards the building. She could hear people yelling at her to wait, slow down, stop! But she ignored them. The only thing on her mind was that her home was on fire.

“Marinette! Wait!” Dick reached out to grab her arm, but like a snake Marinette easily slipped out of his grip and continued forward. Steph was next, deciding to just tackle Marinette— to no avail. The Parisian just shouldered the bigger woman off of her with pure adrenaline fueling her muscles, and everyone else knew by then that they could not stop her. The Wayne’s decided all they could do was jog behind Marinette, keeping her in sight as they tried to gauge the damage.

“The top floors don’t look like they have even been touched by the fire yet,” Tim whispered, though his eyes flew between the building and their tour guide. Marinette was speaking rapidly with a firefighter that wasn’t immediately busy, trying to get information. But before anyone could decipher what was said, Marinette tore a large strip off the bottom of her shirt and tied it in a hasty mask around her mouth.

“Wait!” Bruce was the first to realize what was happening, with his years of experience with self sacrificing children and their stupid stunts. But Marinette managed to kick him away before he could grab her, dashing into the inferno without paying any heed to the many protests that followed her.

The group of Gothamites could do nothing but watch the flaming building, then. If they went inside, it would only overcrowd a hazardous area. Minutes passed, and there was movement in the fire. Out of the doorway came Marinette and a firefighter, both having to work together to carry the body of a large man outside. The sight of the man made the Gotham family blink— he was as big as Bane! And that was nothing to scoff at. But despite his unusual size and muscle mass, the man had all the signs of being a normal civilian.

Marinette didn’t stop there. She ran back in. Coming out a lot more quickly this time with a barely conscious Asian woman— everyone saw the resemblance between her and this new woman immediately.

It had to be her mother.

“Shit,” Duke hissed. Nobody else could say a word. It wasn’t looking good, and this wasn’t a situation where random vigilantes showing up out of nowhere could actually help. Not this late into the fire. Bruce’s hands curled into fists.

The woman that everyone guessed was Marinette’s mother was suddenly struck by lucidity; she gasped and grabbed at Marinette’s hand without seeming to see who she was even talking to. A single word that none of the Waynes could hear left her throat, and judging by Marinette’s returning panic it hadn’t been good.

She rushed right back into the building, and came back out with the last firefighter who had been searching inside.

Marinette carried a child. She screamed out in panicked French;

“She’s not breathing! I need first aid now!”

That was their cue. The firefighters started their hoses, focusing on getting rid of the flames now that nobody was left inside the building. Bruce and Damian got to Marinette first, and this time she listened as they instructed her to set the child down. Damian, being smaller and having more hands-on medical knowledge, took charge of the resuscitation. Marinette sat there silently, eyes riveted to the small child— a girl.

But Marinette wasn’t reacting like a normal civilian to tragedy. She was eerily calm, eyes focused and barely concealing a terrible rage. She took over chest compressions when Damian started to lose momentum, not giving up.

But then the EMTs arrived, and it was only five minutes with the child hooked onto oxygen that the news arrived—

Marinette heard the monitors on the ambulance flatline before she even registered what people were trying to tell her. Manon. Manon was—

Marinette didn’t register Nadya Chammack at first. She was just another body in the quickly growing sea of them. That is, until she heard Nadya’s pained shriek. A mother who had just lost her baby girl.

“Perhaps we should head back,” Bruce offered softly, giving Marinette space but keeping a keen eye on her. He saw her begin to tremble, then shake. He was pretty sure he could hear the grinding of her teeth for a second before she went still. Just… all movement stopped, the tears that had been building just falling silently for a second before they ended.

And he recognized that carefully practiced emptiness in her bluebell eyes. The same emptiness he had seen in Damian’s eyes when he had first arrived at the Manor. The same emptiness he saw in Dick’s eyes in the days following his parent’s deaths.

The same emptiness he saw in the mirror, every time he had another nightmare about the day Jason had been taken from him, years ago.

Suddenly he could imagine all too well exactly what kind of strength she had to have, to avoid her negative emotions ever being used against her during Hawkmoth’s reign. Especially if she had constantly been dealing with her friends and family being Akumatized and/or dying on multiple occasions.

She didn’t even seem to have heard him. Bruce sighed.

“I called Chloe,” Barbara informed everyone solemnly, holding up her phone for emphasis. “She’ll be here in five.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Chloe hadn’t come alone. With her had been Adrien Agreste, former model when his father hadn’t been… well, in prison. Nowadays he was just a normal student who occasionally gave lectures on neglect and child abuse, and how to help children in those situations.

And, apparently, he was also Marinette’s closest friend. Even more so than Chloe. As soon as they arrived back at the Grand Paris, Chloe herded everyone up into her suite and she and Adrien surrounded Marinette with pillows and blankets. Adrien curled around Marinette like an affectionate cat, and Damien even swore he heard the guy purr at some point

“We should probably leave,” Bruce whispered to their hostess, who looked inbetween him and her friends for a moment before jerking her head towards the door.

“I wanna talk to you first,” Chloe whispered back. Once they all filed out into the hallway and the door was safely closed, Chloe took a breath. “First, I want to tell you that I got a call from the hospital. Marinette’s father is stable, but in a coma right now.”

“Is that the man who looked like he could bench press a car for fun?” Dick asked, earning a weak grin from the Bourgeois heiress.

“Yeah, that’s him. But…” Chloe’s face fell, and she looked around as if to double check nobody was eavesdropping. She still lowered her voice anyway. “Her mother, Sabine. She…” Chloe swallowed a lump in her throat, images of the extremely kind Chinese woman flashing through her mind without permission. “She didn’t make it.”

Several people took a sharp breath, acknowledging everything that had gone so wrong for Marinette on a day that had started so perfectly.

“The smoke?” Cass asked gently, but Chloe winced and shifted on her feet.

“No. They… there were rope marks on Sabine’s neck,” Chloe clenched her eyes shut at the admission. “Marinette’s dad might be big, but he’s not a fighter. Sabine, though… Sabine was. She was raised in a martial arts family back in China. I’ve seen Sabine take down five men at once, all twice her size,” Chloe kicked her lips, shaking her head in disbelief. “Somebody knew… somebody knew that the little Chinese woman was a threat but the big baker with tons of muscle was harmless.”

Nobody took that well. Not only had Marinette just lost her home and half of her family, but her father was in a coma and it had all been foul play.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded once the news had time to sink in. They could help with this; this was their specialty. They might have only known Marinette for six hours, but she had made a big impression. It wasn’t just anybody that could mesh with his family so seamlessly in that short span of time. “Is there anything else?”

“I want you to get temporary custody of her,” Chloe said it the way only Chloe Bourgeois could. With her back straight, chin high, and the tone of a woman who expected to be listened to or else she’d make life Hell for the person that didn’t take her seriously. Bruce could only blink.

“Can I ask for your reasoning?”

“Marinette has been closing herself off more and more over the years,” Chloe admitted. “Hawkmoth’s reign was hard on her. Only Adrien really knows everything she went through during those years. But even after the disbanding of the team, she hasn’t… she hasn’t allowed herself to get close to anybody new. That’s why I tricked her into doing your tour. She needed to socialize with new people, and if she wouldn’t do it herself then I had to pull some strings.”

A few eyebrows raised at the admission that Chloe had fully planned for Marinette to be their tour guide the whole time. It honestly seemed like the kind of well meaning manipulation that one of them would try to pull off.

“She likes you,” Chloe’s voice went soft again, showing how uncharacteristically serious she was about that fact. “She was comfortable enough to let you guys carry her back here. To let you try to help Manon. That might not seem like a big deal to you, but it says a lot to me and Adrien. And… getting her away from Paris for a while is probably a good idea. She was planning to go to Gotham for university anyway.”

The Waynes traded glances before Bruce crosses his arms and asked some more questions first. Doesn’t Marinette have other family? Answer; only her grandmother, who travels all the time and nobody ever knows where she is until she shows up. Bruce agreed that Gina Dupain didn’t exactly seem like a good candidate for Marinette’s new guardian with that description. But finally, to none of his children's surprise, he did end up agreeing.

“But,” he held up a single finger. “We’ll Wait here in Paris for a week, so that she can try to salvage everything she can from her house and so we can get an idea on how her father is doing. There’s still a chance he’ll come out of his coma fairly quickly. And of course, we will only go through with this if Marinette agrees when we ask her tomorrow.”

Chloe agreed to those terms, looking like a weight had been lifted off of her.

Chloe never cut corners when taking care of her hive. And if that meant making sure that her brave soldier bee could move on to start a new hive, one that was better equipped to take care of her, then Chloe would do everything she could to help that move. And really; Chloe was far more resourceful and observant than people gave her credit for. The butts definitely matched, and Bruce Wayne was her last hope to get Marinette the support she needed. Outside of Adrien, anyway.

Chloe took a breath, watching the Waynes trickle off into their own rooms. Marinette was like the little sister she never wanted, but grew to love more than anything. Though, Chloe knew she really chose Marinette as her sister the same way they both chose Adrien as their brother. She just didn’t want to admit she was sentimental like that. But Chloe knew that someone like Marinette needed a bigger family. More support.

She could only hope that Marinette and the Waynes grew to become family for her like she and Adrien had. Kwami knew that Marinette needed all the help she could get for the foreseeable future.

“You did good, my Queen.”

“I know, Pollen. Now we just have to find out who dared hurt my hive.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dude this took so long to write, but I’m actually really proud of it. Probably gonna take this Maribat March a little differently than last year, and make a few longer stories by connecting some of the prompts together. Maybe each week will be a full story? Idk I’ll figure it out. I know I’m behind but I’m working on it.

I tried to keep the angst out, but it found it’s way in here anyway. Oh well!

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat #maribat march 2021 #Maribat March 2k21 #platonic brucinette #found family #day 1 #Maribat March #day 1 found family #I was a little late but oh well

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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How about the brothers + diavolo reacting to an mc that smokes cigarettes, but only when stressed out? I hope this ask doesn't make you feel uncomfortable. 🙂

So this is interesting for me because I'm actually an asthmatic and cigarette smoke is one of my triggers. Naturally, that means I'm not the biggest fan of smoking (because I like breathing air) but I'm going to try not to turn this into a straight PSA. I assume if you smoke, you already know what's up and if you don’t, you're probably not considering it and leave things at that. I imagine what you want is the characters' perspectives and not mine, so I'll do my best to give that to you here. I hope you like it!

An MC Who's a Stress Smoker

Lucifer

Not the biggest fan of their habit, but mostly due to smell. Actually needing that bit of stress relief - he totally gets.

After he found out that they smoke he set a lot of ground rules: "No smoking in the House; No smoking at RAD; No smoking in uniform" yadi-yadi-yada… but he never straight up banned them from doing it.

If he catches the MC out smoking, he'll usually keep his distance until they've finished (and ideally changed clothes) before calling them in to ask what's wrong.

If they can't keep to the rules, that's when he's going to start having a problem. Cigarette/cigar smoke gives him a headache and he really can’t tolerate it for long…

If they start smoking in places they're not supposed to, then he will try to ban them cold turkey so better stay mindful about it. It wouldn’t take many slip ups unfortunately…

Mammon

Yeah… I know some people HC that Mammon smokes too. I wouldn't go that far, but I'll say he's most likely done it before.

Mammon picked up smoking for a century or so from his trips to the human world (humans freaking loved tobacco for some reason) but eventually stopped because the smell annoyed Lucifer and it has some weird effects on Diavolo…

When he caught the MC smoking on their balcony the first time, he was a little surprised because he didn't peg them for the type, but throwing stones in glass houses and all that… Who is he to judge?

Mammon actually likes to stick around during their outdoor smoke sessions. It's a pretty relaxing, dare say intimate, affair. He'll grab a cigarette himself and just let them vent about whatever's bothering them. Zero judgment about it all.

He will warn the MC about Lucifer’s dislike of the smell though… They have to be careful or he'll start getting on their case, you know?

Leviathan

Smoking is fairly common among badass characters in anime so it's not like he has a super negative image of it to start with, anyway. 🤷‍♀️

Surprisingly understanding of their coping mechanism, I mean, this man has made a life out of his own.

If he sees that they’re out smoking he may pop out to go ask what's up. He won't be much bothered by the smoke unless they blow it right in his face or something (which is a little rude anyway).

Will be a little disappointed that the MC only does it to calm down and they're not actually some kind of secret badass (or maybe they are, I dunno) but he gets the need to have some kind of grounding more than most.

Isn't nearly as bothered by the smell as Lucifer, but not about to jump in and join them like Mammon… He's pretty down the middle about it.

Satan

Though he can't fault them for looking for relief, he's done enough research into human health that he really can’t condone this method…

Satan, bless his black soul, is going to be the nag of the family. He will bring up how unhealthy smoking is and he will urge them to try and find a different habit.

To be fair, he did the same to Mammon too - but to a lesser extent because demon bodies can cope with the toxins a lot better. Since the MC is human, he feels a lot of urgency… it comes from a good place.

The MC should expect to have to hide from Satan if they’re out smoking because he will crash their de-stressing with a mini-lecture. He won't go as far as to take the cigarette from their hands, but he will ask them to put it out.

He's not blind to their feelings, though. If they’re smoking, he'll ask what's wrong and how he can help so they can just stop for the night. If they do want to quit, then he's more than willing to support them through the transition. He won't leave them high and dry, but he will make his thoughts known. Be aware of that.

Asmodeus

Uh, don't they know what smoking does to your skin? Your teeth?? Oh no, honey, you gotta try something else!

Yeah like Satan, Asmo isn't a huge fan but unlike Satan he's mostly worried about the physical damages alone. Poor guy can't understand why someone would actively do something with those negative effects when there are much healthier options!

He will pretty much be on a mission to give them other stress relief outlets like massages, bathes, music, meditation, or whatever else he can think of. He'll keep throwing stuff at a wall until it sticks. 🤷‍♀️

Again, it comes from a good place (albeit a somewhat more shallow one) but he cares deeply about them and always wants them to always look their best.

Unfortunately, Asmo's not even coming near them if he sees them smoking. He knows secondhand is a thing and he wouldn’t risk it, but he may call them or text them while they're out there to see what's wrong.

Beelzebub

Beel's pretty easygoing one way or another so I see him accepting the MC's choice with little judgment. Their life and all.

Being an athlete, I also can imagine he may have a bit of knowledge about why it's not good for you but he won’t hammer it in like Satan. He might remind them once or twice if they start coughing because he worries… but that’s about it.

If there's anything he's going to be sad about, though, it's if their smoking habit starts to diminish their sense of taste… There’s so many foods he wants to share with them, he hopes they can enjoy it all… 😥

If Beel sees them out smoking, he'll pull a Levi and just come out to see what's wrong. He may not stay long because he doesn’t want to breathe in too much secondhand (still an athlete and all) but he'll still check in on them… Such a sweet guy.

Belphegor

The smell did take some getting used to, but he used to nap around Mammon all the time so it's not like it's unfamiliar. He can adapt.

Really can't give two shits on whether or not their habit is healthy for them. In the long term, that may bite him in the ass, but that’s also kind of Sloth's whole deal so…

More or less would treat them the exact same way, smoking or not, because that doesn't much affect him or his chances to cuddle them.

If there's anything that is going to bother him, it might be coughing when he's trying to sleep... But that won't be a serious concern unless it gets BAD.

If Belphie sees them out smoking, he'll ask what's wrong… but also if they want to just come inside and sleep the problem off. He's trying to help… in his own way. 🤷‍♀️

Diavolo

Daddy Devil smoked and you can't convince me otherwise.

The smell of cigarettes and cigars kind of give Diavolo a knee-jerk familiar reaction - like when you smell a food or soap that you associate with your childhood. It may not be a good smell or one you even like, but you're drawn to it anyway for the memories.

Doesn't matter how many times the MC has changed clothes or how long they scrub their body for, he can still smell it on them and it's like hitting a lightswitch in his brain - he knows that smell and it's oddly comforting…

Diavolo is going to hover around them a lot. Expect a lot of hugs or just standing a bit too close so he can get a good whiff. Lucifer is going to be utterly confused by his actions but Barbs knows what's up.

The MC is strictly forbidden by Lucifer to smoke anywhere near Diavolo, but that’s hardly going to matter. He can pick up when they've done it recently and he'll ask what's wrong… probably while hugging them because he's looking for that comfort too.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #obey me requests

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fandom-hoarder · 3 years

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Baby Brother

[companion piece to Feeling Small; Dean’s POV, fluff + slight angst; don’t come at me for the gimme title]

At first, Dean has no idea why he’s suddenly conscious and not reaching for his gun. His fingers just graze the butt of it, but he doesn’t have the urge to close the distance. After a split-second of concentration, though, the reason is obvious: Sam. Namely, the soft but ragged breaths Dean hears coming from the bed behind him, growing more labored by the second; a sound Dean is, unfortunately, used to identifying. Though, it’s been awhile. Almost a year, he thinks. Longer than the last time Sam woke up with growing pains, and Dean can tell Sam’s current anxious breathing apart from the pained groans that have been more frequent lately. Dean had started to settle into the idea that Sam was finally growing out of his nightmares.

Too much to hope for, apparently.

There’s a fleeting thought, a vague hint of annoyance, at the fact that this is Sam’s first nightmare since separate beds became their default rather than a rarity and a luxury. Calming Sam down is so much easier when they’re sharing space. But it had been Sam’s decision in the first place; yet another push for independence and his own (literal) space; and Dean hadn’t argued, despite the urge that nagged at him sometimes. When your sixteen-year-old little brother insists he needs his own personal space, it looks weak and clingy to try to argue about it. So, naturally, Dean had pulled away like the ultimate specimen of machismo that he was, making sure Sam knew that Dean had only been putting up with the arrangement for Sam’s sake in the first place, and to make things easier on Dad. Making sure to gripe about it at least as much as Sam any time they had no other option but to share since then.

Even so, Sam was usually much more pliable in the middle of the night; accepting more help with things when he was sleepy; when their world was blurry around the edges, dwindled down to the bubble that encompassed the two of them in that space between wakefulness and sleep.

He calls out to Sam sleepily, refusing to open his eyes and hoping to quickly nip this in the bud so he can go back to sleep. So they both can. It comes out more grumpy than inviting, and he inwardly winces, but he doesn’t worry long.

He hears Sam gasp sharply and then there’s a flurry of movement as his little brother flings his covers away and clambers over. Dean braces for the chill of air on his warm skin as Sam squirms in behind him, but his little brother comes with his own furnace-like aura, especially when he’s worked up from some kind of night terror. He feels the heat of the air between them close in as Sam settles, and Dean holds still, taking his cues from Sam for how much contact he wants.

Sam’s bony elbows press against Dean’s lower back, and he feels the barest hint of contact between the backs of his thighs and Sam’s legs. Sam’s slightly clammy forehead coming to rest between his shoulder blades, however, is enough to raise faint goosebumps along Dean’s skin. He wonders how Sam can possibly be comfortable, with the way he must be contorted. Sam’s body is way too long now for this position to feel natural.

Sometimes it kinda pisses him off that Sam is going to be taller than him any day now. It also makes him proud, though. Somehow, despite all the odds against him, he managed to raise this kid up big and healthy. But right now, it just makes him kind of heartsick for the days when his little brother was, well, actually little. He guesses he should just be grateful that Sam isn’t actually treating him like the little spoon here, but it still rankles. Dean’s still bigger than him, dammit; at least for now.

Dean keeps his eyes closed and tries to hold still; relax; resist the urge to take control and switch their positions, and just breathe. Be the type of solid comfort Sam needs right now—no matter how dissatisfying it feels for Dean, or how much he knows Sam will end up with a crick in his neck and back if he stays like this—and let both of them fall back to sleep. For a minute or two, it seems to work, but soon he feels Sam’s breathing getting worked up again; shuddering the way it does when tears are in the not too distant future.

Dean reaches back awkwardly to run his hand through Sam’s hair, hoping the contact will ground him. Somehow, though, it only seems to make things worse as Sam lets out a sort of wounded sob.

‘Yeah, okay, that’s it,’ Dean thinks with a sigh, finally opening his eyes as he accepts his fate. He twists himself around under the covers and wraps his arms around Sam, ankle looping around Sam’s and trapping that leg between his thighs. Dean’s left hand finds Sam’s right and wraps around his bony wrist, pulling it to his chest as he re-settles Sam against him more comfortably. And there’s something intensely satisfying about how he executed this maneuver; how easily he’s still able to manhandle his little brother, despite Sam’s recent increase in size. Dean’s momentary smirk presses his cheek against Sam’s head as he reaches up to card through Sam’s hair again.

It’s full; soft and fluffy on top, but still damp on the bottom layers from the shower Sam took after Dean last night. His hair is so long and thick, past his chin in the front and curling out around the nape of his neck; it always takes hours to dry naturally, and Sam refuses to use a hair dryer. Dad’s probably going to make Sam cut it any day now for practical reasons. Dean rags on Sam all the time about his girly hair, but secretly he loves it. The kid’s always had a lot of hair, but it’s gotten thicker in the last couple of years. And Dean grew up petting his brother’s hair—it’s the only thing that could get little Sammy back to sleep most of the time, or calm him down if he was fussy; although sometimes it’d only worked if it was accompanied by Dean’s careful croon of ‘Hey Jude’—and at this point he can admit, at least to himself, that it soothes him also.

And Dean definitely needs that calming action now as he prepares himself for what he needs to do. He takes a deep breath as he comes to terms with it, and the familiar, sweet scent of Sam’s special shampoo keeps his heart calm under Sam’s hand. Good.

“Nightmare?” he whispers.

Sam nods against Dean’s shoulder and cheek, and Dean’s fingers still until the movement is over so they don’t snarl in his hair.

“Wanna talk about it?” he barely wants to give the question breath, but he knows he has to. His heartbeat stays steady as he waits for the reply, but his dread of the answer seems to make the question echo around him.

When Sam shakes his head ‘no,’ Dean doesn’t hold back from tugging at his hair a bit in retaliation. Dean hadn’t even wanted to ask in the first place, but Sam is for damn sure gonna answer him now that he’s ignored his first impulse and asked anyway.

“Can’t remember it,” Sam mumbles, and the graze of his lips over Dean’s clavicle threatens goosebumps across Dean’s chest.

Dean frowns at the reply. On the one hand, he knows Sam’s telling the truth, but that Sam could probably remember it if he tried; he’s done it before, more than once. On the other hand, Dean has never liked the outcomes of those times--the subject matter or how remembering affected Sam. After the last one, Sam didn’t--maybe couldn’t--sleep again until… well, Dean’s not even going to let his thoughts go there right now. It was all just coincidence, anyway. Sam’s subconscious taking his worries and lore knowledge and coming up with unfortunately realistic scenarios in his dreams. Side effect of being the brainy, research geek, Dean had told him, and Sam clearly hadn’t believed him but only gave a patented bitchface in reply.

Point being: every time it happens, Dean gets closer and closer to having zero excuses left for why he hasn’t told their father yet. But, hey, if Sam can’t remember then… who’s to say what he dreamed about? Probably just a normal, stupid, run of the mill nightmare about clowns or something… He digs his fingers a little deeper into Sam’s hair, massaging into his scalp a bit to ease any tension left there from his dreams, the way he has since Sam was little.

When Sam was about four or five, he’d woken from a nightmare inspired by a monster movie Dean had been watching on late night TV. They’d been sharing a pull-out couch in the living room of a tiny, one-bedroom apartment Dad had rented, and Dean had gotten in the habit of falling asleep to the TV in the living room when Dad was gone; he didn’t want to say it made him feel safer, but that was the truth. When Sam had woken up with a cry, covered with sweat and face sticky with tears, the TV screen had long since stopped showing the blocky colors that signaled the end of the broadcast day and was now just the staticky non-picture that Dean called ‘snow.’

Dean had woken immediately at Sam’s cries, and pulled him over into his arms, doing his best to shield his little brother’s eyes from the light of the TV screen as he shushed him and dried his tears, asking if he had a bad dream. When Dean realized it was the monster movie that caused Sam’s nightmare, he’d felt bad, and promised not to watch scary stuff before bed anymore. Then he’d tucked Sammy against him and started combing his fingers through his sweat-damp, baby-soft hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers against Sam’s head as Dean whispered to him that he had a magic trick that would let him pull the bad thoughts out of Sam’s head. For a while, Sam wholly believed it was magic, and it worked so well that Dean almost did, too.

The dread in Dean’s gut eases slightly with the memory, but not completely. He’s too aware of the thoughts he’s avoiding.

Just when he starts to think Sam’s drifted off, the pattern of air moving across Dean’s collarbone stutters as Sam breathes, “I miss this.”

“Miss what?” Dean asks, feeling an inexplicable eagerness as he anticipates Sam’s reply.

“Feeling small.”

Immediately, Dean’s thoughts cycle back to where they’d been earlier: Sam’s impending status as tallest Winchester boy, and Dean’s continued status as big brother no matter what. This time, the ache in his heart is more for Sam than himself. There’s a happiness, too, though; he’s glad for the darkness and the creeping slumber that loosened Sam’s tongue enough to say it.

After he’s squeezed Sam close—feeling the incredible thinness of him, the ridges of bone under newly-stretched skin a little uncomfortable at spots but all the more a comfort because of how it adds to Sam’s overall delicate feel right now—Dean splays his hand over Sam’s back, testing how much area the spread from his thumb to pinky still covers. It feels like a lot, and Dean finds himself thinking proudly that he’s still able to be Sam’s protector.

Dean rubs his thumb soothingly over the edge of skin it can just reach, and presses his cheek against Sam’s head to promise, “You’ll always be my baby brother.”

When Sam’s fingers clumsily grab Dean’s amulet, the goosebumps that have been threatening this whole time finally make their appearance. The pull of Sam’s hand on the cord is a nostalgic weight that gives his heart a little lurch. Dean feels Sam’s breathing finally even out, and allows a long, slow exhale of relief.

But Dean knows he’s not going back to sleep himself any time soon. He’s going to stay awake and hold his baby brother tight; keep the nightmares away—real and imagined; soak in the memory of Sammy still small in his arms and needing comfort neither of them will admit to in the light of day.

And he knows this will be one of the few times he doesn’t tease Sam about it in the morning, whether or not Dad comes home safe.

#weechesters #teenchesters #weechester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #weecest #kinda #preslash #gencest #samdean #my fanfiction #fluff #sam has nightmares #dean loves sam's hair

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meta-squash · 3 years

Text

Brick Club 2.3.8 “Inconveniences Of Entertaining A Poor Man Who May Be Rich”

This chapter is so long. Here goes.

Is it normal for Cosette to have to knock to get into the house she lives in? Or is Hugo just using that as a vehicle to make Mme Thenardier meet Valjean first?

It’s times like this that I desperately wish I knew more about biblical stories and fables and things. This, a rich man in disguise as a poor man being treated poorly by innkeepers and taking something from them, sounds like a bible story or a similar type of fable. But the only two bible stories I know with similar themes are the nativity story and Sodom and Gomorrah and neither of those seem quite right. Still, this entire episode reads like a fable or fairytale.

We’ve already seen how Evil the Thenardiers are re: their treatment of Cosette. Now we are seeing their Evil in the form of treatment of the poor.

You know, that’s an interesting thing that I’m not going to get into in this longass chapter. Javert’s evil and Thenardier’s evil are different because I feel like Javert’s evil is a lot more muddied or obscured by morality and duty and things like that. Where are the Thenardiers are bad but the badness of their actions is much more black and white. I think it’s also because, technically, they never have social power over anyone unless they are manipulative, whereas Javert always has the social power. I’m not sure where to go with either of these ideas but I will look back on it for a shorter chapter.

Cosette is ugly because she’s sad. It’s like the exact opposite of Roald Dahl’s description of ugliness. I called it on the orphanage thing and kids looking years younger than they are; she looks 6 when she’s 8. That doesn’t seem like a huge difference when you look at it written down but the difference between the size and maturity of a 6 year old vs an 8 year old is surprising.

In the way that the description of the doll was a distant echo of young Fantine, the description of Cosette here is a faded echo of dying Fantine.

“Fear was spread all over here; she was, so to speak, covered with it; fear squeezed her elbows against her sides, drew her heels up under her skirt, made her shrink into the least possible space...” I’m sure this description comes from Hugo observing children in his lifetime, but I also wonder if any of this comes from his brother who had schizophrenia and was institutionalized?

“The expression on the face of this child of eight was habitually so sad and occasionally so tragic that it seemed, at certain moments, as if she were on the way to becoming an idiot or a demon.” What an interesting pair of choices. Fear and sadness either stun and numb you completely or they turn you aggressive and evil. Hugo said the same thing before when talking about Valjean’s prison time. Again, like I said before, Cosette here is Valjean when we first met him: exhausted, scared, sad, numb, hatefully terrified of the people around her; the difference is that she still has hope. She had that moment of hoping someone would rescue her, she had the moment of pausing and wondering what the doll’s paradise was like; when we met Valjean he was past that kind of hope.

(Funny that Mme Thenardier doesn’t suspect the trick Valjean just pulled, despite Valjean “finding” a 20 sous piece instead of 15 sous piece.)

I love the description of Eponine and Azelma because it’s so innocent. They as little human beings aren’t morally bankrupt at the level of their parents yet. They’re still pretty and glowing. Partly because they are well-cared for unlike Cosette, and partly because they are still innocent.

“Eponine and Azelma did not notice Cosette. To them she was like the dog. The three little girls did not have twenty-four years among them, and they already represented the whole of human society: on one side envy, on the other disdain.”

Ah, human microcosms. Hugo loves those. The Thenardier children and Cosette are the pared down, simplified version of society. It’s also an excellent example of how Privilege works in layers. The girls’ doll is worn and old and broken, but the fact of them having a real doll and Cosette having nothing is already a layer of privilege Someone else, another little girl with wealthy parents and a new intact doll would have privilege over the Thenardier girls. There are layers.

I really love this passage too because it shows the start of the zero-sum game between Eponine and Cosette. At no point are Eponine and Cosette able to be equals. But the important thing is that neither of them are aware of this. Later, when Cosette and Eponine encounter each other again in the Gorbeau house, Eponine doesn’t have the awareness to be angry about the reversal of their fortunes. She seems sad, mostly, a jealousy born from a feeling of worthlessness rather than feeling slighted. And Cosette doesn’t even recognize Eponine, so there’s no room at all for disdain on her part, unless she’s disdainful of Eponine et al due to their poverty, though that never seems to be the case. But Eponine cannot be happy while Cosette is and Cosette cannot be happy while Eponine is, because their goals occupy the same fulcrum (Marius) and they can’t both be on the same level at the same time.

Fanfiction has explored this a lot in modern AU but I wonder the kind of havoc that could have been wreaked had Cosette and Eponine met and become proper acquaintances. Their teenage personalities are two sides of the same coin. I’ve always been of the opinion that had they switched places as children Cosette would have ended up like Eponine and Eponine like Cosette. Because Eponine has the capacity for kindness within her, except that she doesn’t know how to use it selflessly; and Cosette has the same stubborn ruthlessness as Eponine, except that she is held back by convention and reduced to talking a lot in order to try and somehow glean information from Valjean or Marius.

“Now your work belongs to me. Play, my child.” This is the second (or third?) Myriel moment for Valjean. Cosette is a child, an innocent child, but her soul doesn’t need to be bought for god. As far as I can tell, for Hugo, children are always holy. Instead, he’s buying her work. But that makes sense. For Valjean, his soul needed to be bought for god because he had already lost it to sin and to evil and to doubt. Cosette still has hope; what she needs bought from her is suffering.

And here is where the parallel continues. Cosette up until now has been Valjean as we first met him: sullen, suffering, scared, dulled, close to becoming “an idiot or a demon” and now, like Valjean’s soul, her work has been bought so she can be free.

I think it is within the walls of the convent that their parallels will catch up to each other and they will become more equal.

I feel as though the cat in a dress vs the sword in a dress must be some sort of parallel to Eponine and Cosette’s personalities but I’m not quite sure how to pull the meaning out.

“A little girl without a doll is almost as unfortunate and just as impossible as a woman without children.” Ugh. Gross, Hugo. This whole chapter was so lovely and then this misogynist bullshit.

I can explain the “water on her brain” line! Mostly because it’s a medical condition I actually have! So, “water on the brain” is another term for hydrocephalus, which is a buildup of cerebrospinal fluid in the ventricles of the brain. It can be caused by being born prematurely (like mine was) or by infections/head trauma. Nowadays they can put a shunt in your head that pumps the fluid into the abdominal cavity (which is what I have), but obviously they didn’t have the technology back then. So what happens to the head if the fluid doesn’t drain, is the head will start to increase in size, and the fluid buildup will squish the brain against the sides of the skull, causing seizures and brain damage/intellectual disabilities and vision problems and other such things. I function perfectly fine except for mild dyscalculia and ADHD (which might have been genetic anyway) but back in the 19th century hydrocephalus probably would have resulted in either mild-to-severe disabilities or death.

Cosette doesn’t have hydrocephalus, but what she does have is severe malnutrition, which can make a person’s head look much too large for their body. So Mme Thenardier is likely using Cosette’s appearance due to neglect to fake that she has a neurological problem and explain why they have to “take care of” her.

Jesus fucking christ this next bit is so much. There’s so much going on. Mme Thenardier is talking to Valjean about Cosette’s mother, the drinkers are singing vulgar songs about the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus, and Cosette is under the table singing “My mother is dead.” to herself. Woof. It is, yet again, an instance of the memory of “Fantine” (in the symbolic, saintly form of the Virgin) being sullied both by the foul songs of the drinkers and the callous, flippant commentary of Mme Thenardier. And Cosette is there under the table, staring at the fire, suddenly playing the role of her own mother, rocking the sword-baby (herself) to try and comfort herself from the shock of this new knowledge that her mother is dead.

(Anyone else read As I Laying Dying, by the way? All I could think of when I read that line was “My mother is a fish.”)

We start to see Cosette’s bold personality come out in fits and starts. She’s brave enough to sneak out and grab the doll Eponine and Azelma have abandoned. But it’s also an example of how desperate she is for something pleasurable and good, considering she’s doing that at the risk of a beating.

For the second time, we see Cosette so absorbed in her moment of “I Want” that she doesn’t see or hear anything else. Again, this seems unusual considering her constant hypervigilance. But her success in getting the doll and her increased confidence due to Valjean’s presence probably have something to do with her lack of awareness.

Cosette is caught with the doll. Is this the parallel of Valjean being caught with Myriel’s silver? Mme Thenardier says “That beggar has dared to touch the children’s doll.” The gendarmes don’t say as much when they return Valjean to Myriel, but it’s pretty obvious they’re thinking something similar.

“We are forced to add that at that moment she stuck out her tongue.” COSETTE IS SO CUTE I LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE DESERVES THE WORLD. Also I just love the way Hugo writes children, it’s so real.

Why did Hugo choose Catherine for the name of the doll? Is it to do with St Catherine? She (the saint) became Christian at 14 and converted hundreds of people before being martyred at 18 after rebuking the Roman emperor for his cruelty and winning a debate with his best philosophers.

“This solitary man, so poorly dressed, who took five-franc pieces from his pocket so easily and lavished gigantic dolls on little brats in wooden clogs, was certainly a magnificent and formidable individual.” Valjean is now Myriel. Outsiders are fascinated by him because he dresses so shabbily and yet is so benevolent and charitable with his money. Again, the difference is that Myriel’s name is always known, and Valjean’s is never known.

I know I say this so often but the distance with which Hugo treats Valjean is absolutely fascinating to me. Valjean has this incredible power to just go inside himself and not move, but we never get that kind if internality unless it’s really really important (like with the Champmathieu affair). Otherwise, Hugo keeps a respectful distance, and even when we get Valjean’s emotions described to us, I feel like Hugo is always holding back a little, like he’s not letting himself see all the way into Valjean, or Valjean isn’t letting him in.

Valjean asks for a stable; I think this is the first time we see his whole thing about sacrifice of physical comfort. Things like this asking for the stable and sleeping in the shed behind the house at Rue Plumet and not having chairs and only eating black bread etc. This is the first example we see of him feeling unworthy of physical comforts to such a degree.

(It’s interesting to me that we don’t see this characteristic when he was mayor, or at least not to this extreme. Is it because it would be unbecoming of a mayor and therefore would blow his cover? Or did going back to prison hammer in that feeling of worthlessness and lesser-than and warp his perception of what he is compared to others?)

“What a sublime, sweet thing is hope in a child who has never known anything but its opposite!” We’ve said this already, but Cosette is full of hope and life and light and that is Important because it is exactly what Valjean did not have when he was in her position. But it means that she doesn’t have to work as hard in her ascent towards happiness and goodness.

And, lastly, I love that the placement of the gold Louis in Cosette’s shoe isn’t just a sweet Christmas gesture or a gesture towards Cosette: it’s also an echo of M Madeleine breaking into houses to place gold pieces on the table.

Wow. Long af post for a long af chapter. Congratulations if you read through all of my rambling thoughts.

#les miserables meta #les miserables #brickclub #lm 2.3.8 #les mis #les mis meta #doing this chapter melted my brain a little

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justanotherlifeff · 4 years

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Hi I saw you were doing bnha x readers, I was wondering if you could do a bakugo x reader where they go one their first date or one where bakusquad tried to set them up cause they both like eachother please fluff and IDC of it's smut or not

Phase 2

"Bakubro, you're already 25. Don't you think you should go for a serious relationship by now?" Kirishima asked the explosive hero infront of him, who only glared at the hardening hero. "You don't get to tell me what to do shitty hair! My goal is to be the number 1 hero. Not play house." Bakugou barked at Kirishima, making Kirishima sigh. The two of them were good friends since their UA days and while Bakugou was more matured than he was back then, that explosive attitude surely didn't change at all. "What about after being the number 1 hero? Do you even have any plans for then? Bro, right now, fighting and having random hookups may sound nice but in the long term, when you’ll have to retire at some point, you're gonna regret wasting away your life just for one goal." Kirishima tried to reason. "Shut your trap, shitty hair. I don't do love or any sappy bullshit like that." Bakugou grumbled, taking a sip of the beer in his hand. "Unless it's (Y/N)... Too bad that she friendzoned me to oblivion..." Bakugou thought internally. At the moment, Bakugou, Kirishima and Kaminari were in a bar after a long day of hero work to catch up. Bakugou still hung out with the infamous Bakusquad every once in a while, though he usually hung out mostly with Kirishima or you. "Bakubro? Are you scared of the responsibility that comes with relationships? Didn't take you to be the one to be scared of something like that... Even I had the courage to get Kyoka with me." Kaminari teased Bakugou on que. "HAH? I'M NOT SCARED OF ANYTHING DUNCE FACE! FUCKING THROW A RELATIONSHIP AT ME AND SEE HOW I HANDLE THAT SHIT!" Bakugou barked at Kaminari. To that, Kirishima and Kaminari fistbumped behind their backs as their plan was going perfectly.

In a completely different bar, you were sitting with Mina and Sero, sipping the (Drink/N) in your hand. "So, (Y/N)! When are you gonna bag a hot guy into your clutches? My married ass can't see you single for any longer and I am itching to play cupid at this point." Mina elbowed you with a smile. "Sero's single too. Why don't you bother him?" you scoffed in answer, gulping your drink. "Hot guy my ass... The hot guy I like is an egoistical bastard..." you thought internally. "Actually, I'm not single? I kinda started dating a colleague last month..." Sero countered your statement bashfully. "Seeee? You're the only one between us who's single. THAT NEEDS TO CHANGE!" Mina slammed on the table to make a point. "Zeez... Calm your tits Mina... I'm single cause not everyone is manly enough to actually marry the girl he dates. You're one lucky bastard Mina, bagging Kiri like that... The guys I have a thing for usually ends up being fuckboys who only want a one time thing and I'm not into that shit. So it's best to stay single and not get hurt." you sighed. "Alright, (Y/N), if we can get you a guy who isn’t a fuckboy, would you finally go on a date?" Mina asked, looking all mischievous. "Why do I feel like you're plotting something?" you sighed, looking at Mina, tired of her antics.

You became a part of the infamous Bakusquad back in your first year at UA. You were in class 1A and Mina pretty much adopted your antisocial ass into the group. It wasn’t that you were introverted because you talked enough. It was just the fact that you were way too straight forward, to the extent that you sounded kinda rude. However, you tried to be a nice person in general. While it may come as a surprise, the only other person you were close to most in the group except Mina was Bakugou. That was probably because Bakugou respected your brutal honesty and the fact that you could shove reality on people's face without a second thought. Not to mention that Bakugou was quite fascinated by your quirk too. You were interested in Bakugou for the exact same reasons though you found him to be unnecessarily rude sometimes. With time, the two of you started having a thing for eachother, which was pretty much common knowledge within the class when you all reached your third year at UA. However, that's when everything went wrong. Bakugou had finally manned up enough to ask you out at the end of your third year and you made the mistake of hugging and calling him "the best FRIEND you can ever have" after he took you on a date. In your defence, he never mentioned that it was a date and you figured that the two of you were hanging out as friends. Hell, you didn't even know that he had a thing for you as both Bakugou and you were completely oblivious when it came to feelings. Unfortunately, Bakugou felt as if you completely and utterly friendzoned him at that moment, and stopped trying to win your affections and instead, went for random hookups while you were deeply saddened by your crush's sudden change and you pretty much stopped having a love life.

Did that stop the two of you from all the passive agressive flirting you threw at eachother? No, it did not. Infact, to both of your surprise, you two ended up hanging out quite a lot. Ofcourse, they always ended with a weird giddy feeling in both of your stomachs and blazing anger in your minds as the two of you pissed eachother off quite a lot. To be fair, Bakusquad was tired of you two pining on eachother for 9 whole years. They had no idea about Bakugou trying to ask you out at some point as Bakugou would never reveal a failed attempt at sonething. To Bakusquad, enough was enough. After all, who the fuck pines on eachother for 9 fucking years and not make a move? Ever since Kirishima and Mina got married to eachother, they had enough of your and Bakugou's shit. Like every other happily married couple, they decided with the squad that this time, they would finally set the two of you up together. Hence, it all led to them planning the entire thing out and you were now sitting at a reserved table at a fancy restaurant after taking a day off from hero work so that you could meet your mystery date. Did you know why you even agreed to this? Blame Mina for bribing you with the entire series of a very rare first edition of a manga signed by the author himself that you have been saving up for. You honestly expected it to be a rather boring date as you had no interest in being with a random dude and you were only here for the manga and the food. However, you did not expect that random dude to be Bakugou.

Did Bakugou expect to see you instead of some random woman sitting there on the table that Kirishima forced him to reserve for the so called date? No, he totally didn't. You looked as surprised as he did when he entered the restaurant and found you sitting there. This was one of the extremely expensive restaurants in Tokyo and Bakugou always chose the best even if it was some stupid worthless date because it was either classy with Bakugou or nothing. Upon realising the fact that none of you expected something like this, Bakugou felt the bad memories of him trying to date you years back plague him, drowning his self confidence to some extent which in return pissed him off. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Bakugou asked you with a scowl as he approached you. "Guess our idiot friends were trying to get us together." You sighed, motioning him to sit on the chair infront of you. "Fucking shitty hair..." Bakugou grumbled, not looking at you. "Mina lost her damn mind... Here I was looking for a loyal dude and she sent the Ground Zero who's specifically known to be a womanizer." you teased Bakugou, trying to ease up the gloomy mood. "Ya know, you could leave if this isn't your thing." Bakugou looked at you and stated with a scowl. "Meh, Mina bribed me enough to stay. Plus we didn't hang out in a while so it's a win win for me. I honestly thought I'll have to make a conversation with some random weirdo." you answered carefreely. "Did she bribe you with that rare first edition manga that you were obsessing over?" Bakugou asked, raising an eyebrow. "Guilty as charged" you answered, winking at him. Only if you knew that your action made him literally have butterflies in his stomach (something he would never admit).

Kirishima, Mina and Kaminari were hiding outside the restaurants, looking over at you and Bakugou by the window of the cafe. "Bakugou looks too constipated... Ya think we need to get to phase 2?" Kaminari asked. "Uh... I still don't think that's a good idea..." Kirishima tried to reason with the two weirdos beside him but Mina was already calling the cafe to prepare for the said 'phase 2' of the plan.

Bakugou was already uncomfortable about the entire thing from the begining but now that a random dude came at them with a violin and started playing some sappy romantic music, Bakugou was this close to losing his temper. It didn't take long for you to notice Bakugou's dilemma. "You wanna get out of here? Our friends clearly crossed the limit..." you asked him. Without any hesitation, he said, "Fuck... Fine, let's go." before he stood up and left the restaurant with you following him, leaving the violin man and the waiters confused as to why you left without your order even after you already paid for it. "Wow, that was intense." you laughed as Bakugou sulked about how shitty their friends are. "Well, how did they convince you to get here? Didn’t you tell enough interviewers that you 'don't do love'?" you asked Bakugou, teasing him though you were kinda curious. "Shitty hair asked me about what I'd do after I retire and said that I'll regret not giving love a chance so I decided to give it a shot." Bakugou grumbled without looking at you. Ofcourse he wasn’t gonna tell you that they got him into their trap simply by challenging him cause you'd tease him to death over it. "Oooo someone's growing up. Good for you." you answered him with a smile before continuing, "I guess I listened to Mina about this shit cause, well, I used to like this guy but it wasn’t mutual and I guess I wanted to forget about him for a while. I mean, I pretty much never had a love life so...". "Dude must be dumb. You're cool." Bakugou answered, not looking at you as the two of you entered a park that was nearby. "Nah, he's amazing. It's just, love isn't really his thing and I can't exactly change his views." you muttered sadly. "Well, he's still a dumbass." Bakugou huffed in answer. "Okay? I guess he really is a dumbass. I mean, I'm quite sure he came into this date cause Kaminari or Kirishima challenged him to and he actually thought I wouldn’t figure it out." you scoffed, looking away from Bakugou.

Bakugou's face was priceless. At first, he was pissed that you called him a dumbass but then it hit him. "You... You like me?" he choked out, looking shocked. "Well, wasn’t it obvious by now? Our friends set us up together and there was a weird dude playing violin. It seemed that Mina understood that I have a thing for you and did all that. Mina or Kirishima wouldn’t want me to be hurt as they are my friends and if you didn't like me, he wouldn’t set me up with you given that you have serious fuckboy tendencies. Well, it doesn’t really matter if I like you anyway cause you're not into long term shit." you answered his question with a sigh. "Ya know (Y/N), I only got into this fuckboy phase cause you rejected me once." Bakugou muttered. "Huh? When did I reject you? What are you talking about?" you asked, visibly confused. "Don't you remember that day at the end of third year? I took you out on a date to see that sappy ass movie together and you hugged me and friendzoned me?" Bakugou accused you. "That was a date?" you asked him with an incredulous expression. "Hah? You didn't realise that was a damned date?" Bakugou barked at you. "OFCOURSE I DIDN'T! YOU NEVER MENTIONED THAT IT WAS A DA..." Bakugou didn't let you complete that sentence as his lips were already on yours. After a kiss that took your breath away, he pulled away, leaving you completely flustered. "I'm not gonna date you if you're gonna fuck around." you stated, still out of breathe from the kiss. "Ofcourse I won't you dumbass! We are fucking official from now! Tf do you think I am?" Bakugou snapped at you? "Idk, you called yourself a dumbass a while back?" you teased him. "DIE!!!!" Bakugou barked at you to that.

"Well, I guess that worked?" Kirishima muttered as they were hiding in the park, watching Bakugou chase you with small explosions in his hands as you kept cackling with laughter, running from him. "Phase 2 never fails." Mina and Kaminari stated in unison with smug expressions as Kirishima looked back at them in disbelief.

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo fluff #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugo × reader #bakugou ? reader #bakugo ? reader #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #mha bakugou

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aire101 · 4 years

Text

Ferrum Chapter 4

Hey y'all, got this chapter out a bit sooner than the last one!

For those who read the light novels of SAO this chapter will be kinda familiar, for those who have only watched the anime, this is the town where Kirito ran to after leaving Klein in Episode 1, and the quest where he got his Anneal Blade we see in the series.

Also, while I make no promises that it will make it into the story, I am open to suggestions on what kind of adventures or shenanigans you would like to see the boys get up to in SAO. As I've mentioned previously I don't really intend to get the boys mixed up too much in the main canon, so if there's an aspect of the SAO world in general you'd like to see explored outside of the main battles and Kirito's storyline I'm open to considering it. I'm also ok with interactions with known characters, just trying to avoid writing the whole Kirito centric Aincrad arc.

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Activate-Vertical slash-hold

“Switch!”

1-2

“Switch!”

Defend-rage spike, upward strike—

“SWITCH!”

Peter fell back again, the post motion-delay that set in for a measly few seconds was nevertheless a highly vulnerable moment that he and Mr. Stark had figured out a work around for early on in their trek. The boars from Day 1 had been easy one hit kills, so they hadn’t noticed the system forced post-motion cool down period until they had been fighting on the road the next day. Their tag-team approach served them well, and best that Peter could tell from when they came upon other players in the wild, most of the rest had come to the same conclusion that they had. Because of that, it was unusual these days to find someone soloing in the pvp areas by choice.

Mr. Stark switched in with a strong horizontal slash, bringing the Little Nepenthe's HP down to zero.

“You know, I was never one for plants anyway, but after this quest I swear to god I will never put a single point into the gardening skill,” said Mr. Stark as he sheathed his sword.

“I’ve told you, green stuff is sadness and disappointment solidified,” replied Peter, following suit.

“I still expect you to eat your greens, kid.”

“It’s a tragedy, I tell you. Here we are, trapped in a fantasy game and every meal is still served with vegetables.”

“Yeah, that’s the real tragedy here.”

“I want my money back.”

“You weren’t even the one who bought the game. But either way, I’ll buy you every Playstation, X-Box, and Nintendo game ever in existence when we get back if you just never touch a full dive ever again,” said Mr. Stark, laughing.

And there’s Peter’s daily reminder that he still hadn’t informed Mr. Stark of the horrific truth of his situation.

“I think it’s time to call it a night, Underoos.”

“Is this quest even worth it? We’ve been out here for like three days weeding these things out. The drop rate on this thing is atrocious,” moaned Peter.

“From what our source says, this quest has one of the best weapons you can find on this floor as it’s reward. And while I’ve been funneling as many points as possible into weapon creation, its not quite where it needs to be to match that yet, so better to start with a good blade and just do the enhancement myself. Also, don’t think I didn’t notice that terrible pun, you should be ashamed.”

“Hey, there’s no shame in my pun game.”

Mr. Stark gave a deep sigh/groan before he turned and started walking back towards the direction of Horunka Village. He probably had rolled his eyes too, but it was impossible to tell through the helmet he always wore.

Night had long since fallen over Aincrad, and it had been dark in the forest even before that. Pale blue light slit through the trees overhead, lighting the path, but otherwise they made their way by memory and intuition. A breeze stirred up leaves from the ground, and Peter shivered slightly from the cool night air.

“Do you think its going to snow here in the winter?” asked Peter.

“If we’re all still here in the winter—which all signs point to yes— I think it will. We can see from the thunderstorm last week it has a functioning variable weather simulator. I wasn’t a part of that programing team obviously, so I don’t know for certain just how far that variable goes, but I would think the primary associated weather variations like rain, snow and heat waves will be included. It might also vary by floor. Probably won’t know the answer to that until we get a few floors opened up,” answered Mr. Stark.

“Huh… something to look forward to I guess,” said Peter.

“Why? You don’t get enough snow in Queens?” Mr. Stark said with a joking tone.

“Yeah, but you know in the real world I kinda have to be careful with the cold. My body temperature runs a bit cooler than the average, so unless I’m in the suit I try to keep exposure to a minimum. In here I can probably spend all day in it with out any trouble,” said Peter.

“I didn’t know that, actually,” said Mr. Stark, this time far more seriously. “You haven’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t thought about that at all.”

“Oh. Well, that built in heater and temperature regulator in the suit pretty much took care of the problem. It’s just something I have to keep in mind,” said Peter, awkwardly trying to cover his slip up. Obviously that had been a conversation they had some time after Mr. Stark’s last memory.

It had been almost two weeks since they had been locked in this game, and Peter was still no where close to figuring out how Mr Stark was even here. And he was equally no where closer to telling Mr. Stark the truth about the events in the real world— Thanos and the Infinity Stones, Mrs. Stark and Morgan, Mr. Stark’s death and Peter’s own—

“Anyway, we should definitely make a day of it once it does. I don’t know about you, but its been years since I built a snowman and I kinda want to change that,” said Peter, quickly diverting his thoughts.

“Sure, might as well. Not like we’re going anywhere fast in here. Though if you start singing Frozen songs I might reconsider.”

“You know, they’ve written out your entire life story in news articles and magazines, but they always leave out how much of a killjoy you are.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m the life of the party.”

“A retirement party, maybe.”

Mr. Stark threw the finger back over his shoulder at Peter and kept walking.

Peter was just just about to follow suit when out of the corner of his eye, the sight of polygons coalescing into a hazy form caught his attention.

It was obviously another Little Nepenthe, but above the typical hellish roots and vines and the bizarre, speckled pitcher plant topped with its gaping fanged mouth, was a large, blood red bloom.

Petter inhaled sharply, the sound causing Mr. Stark to spin around as well.

This was it. This is what they were looking for.

Before the creature could attack and he could second guess himself, Peter drew his sword and leapt in with a swift Horizontal Strike at the plant’s weak spot— the joint between the stalk and the pitcher.

The strike hit true, and before the evil hell plant got even a single chance to spew its corrosive liquids, it dissolved back into broken polygons, leaving behind nothing but the delicate flower holding the Ovule they had searched for.

“Whoa! You actually got one!”

Mr. Stark and Peter both spun around, swords raised. Behind them stood another player no older than Peter, with his arms now raised in a sign of surrender.

“Sorry! I was using my hide skill in here. It doesn’t really work on the Little Nepenthes, but it helps avoid other confrontations,” said the player.

Despite what they said, Peter took a good look around, searching for others. The timing and the seeming lack of a party giving good reason for concern. PKers lurking around valuable drop spots to attack and rob unsuspecting players of their loot wasn’t an uncommon thing in PvP games, and unfortunately not even a full two weeks in, SAO was no exception. In any other game, they may simply be considered griefers. But here, to the best of their knowledge it was nothing short of murder.

“Where’s the rest of your party?” asked Mr. Stark, not lowering his blade.

“Eh, I don’t really have one,” said the guy sheepishly

“Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe,” said Mr. Stark. “Kid, do you see anyone else? Or are they hidden as well?”

“Look, there’s really no one else, its just me. People in here don’t really like my type,” said the guy, with a sad note in his voice.

“Oh…” said Mr. Stark, voice now tinged more compassion than aggression. “You’re a beta tester, aren’t you kid?”

The guy flinched, but nodded. “Please, I promise I’m just doing some light grinding in the area. There’s no one else, and I already have the quest item.”

Mr. Stark didn’t sheath his sword, but he gave a nod and backed away.

“Alright, good luck then,” he said.

The other player nodded in return, turned and walked back into the woods.

“Pocket the ovule quick and keep an eye out. Don’t sheath your sword until we get back into town,” said Mr. Stark before he began running back in the direction of Horunka village.

Peter slipped the item into his inventory and easily kept pace with the other man. After a few minutes of running, Peter finally spoke up, “Do you think he was telling the truth? Pretty surprising he freely admitted to that. For all he knows we could have been Beta Killers.”

“If we had killed someone our player cursors would still be orange. It is unusual though. He must have figured it was worth the risk to try and get us to back off,” said Mr. Stark. “Poor kid, as if being stuck in this game wasn’t bad enough, having to hide a beta status from other players…”

Just as Mr. Stark had expected that first day, it didn’t take long before the terrified and angry masses started looking for someone to blame. And with Kayaba disappearing into the digital ether, apparently the scapegoats they chose were the 700 or so beta testers who had logged in with the rest that day. According to most pub talk, the beta testers had left the rest of the players in the dust of the Town of Beginnings, getting through the most lucrative quests and hunts before most even dared to leave the city. They were condemned as selfish and greedy, and were therefore persona non-gratis in most parties. Even worse were the stories of betas being outright murdered and monster PK’d. Out of the almost 1000 players who were already dead about two weeks in, around 150 had been beta testers. A staggering amount given how few of them there had been. Plenty had undoubtedly met their end due to the game itself, but many had ended up victims of angry mobs.

Peter didn’t understand it. Yeah, the beta testers had more info and experience than the rest, but they had shared much of that info on the internet before the game even began. Then after a few days in game, vendor markets began carrying a free SAO Guide booklet created by someone called ‘The Rat’, who had clearly made and circulated the original file Ned had uploaded to the Nervegear. Almost anything you could want to know was available. It was how they had learned of this quest in the first place.

“Hey Ferrum, why do people have to suck so bad?” asked Peter, mostly rhetorically.

“If I had the answer to that, I wouldn’t have been a weapons manufacturer.”

After a few minutes of running they finally crossed over into the town Safe Zone. Horunka was a small village, with only about ten buildings in all. One of which was the house of the NPC who gave the quest, and their current destination.

As they walked down the road towards the house, several parties milled about, clearly having just returned from their own hunts. A couple eyed the two of them as they walked through.

“Looks like someone finally managed to snag an ovule. Lucky bastards…” someone muttered.

“Who actually wears a helmet in this game?” said another.

“Yikes, imagine being stuck in here with your dad…”

Overhearing that last line caused Peter’s face to flush, which given its digital nature was just plain unfair. Did they have to be that thorough?

No bigger than the town was, they were soon standing in the living area of the house. The lady of the house whom they had met previously still stood stirring a pot of simmering liquid, her expression drawn and tired. The only thing that about her that gave her away as an NPC rather than a player was the exclamation mark hovering above her head in the place of a player cursor, indicating a quest in progress.

“Go on, kid,” said Mr. Stark, staying by the door.

Peter slowly approached. Even knowing that the woman was an NPC, it still felt rude to just barge into the house without invitation. He brought up is inventory and took out the ovule, handing it out to her to take.

Immediately her face brightened, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder just how developed the NPC AIs were. Were they simple rudimentary ones like most games? Or were they more like Mr. Stark’s AIs? Was she aware of what she was?

“Oh, thank you so much, kind swordsman! My daughter has only grown worse since we last spoke, I was beginning to worry she may not make it till your return,” she said, taking the ovule from my hand and adding it to the pot.

I saw my quest log update to the left of my view, but I was distracted by the sound of deep coughs coming from further in the house.

“Here, this blade has been passed down in my family for generations, but I gladly trade it in exchange for your aid saving my child’s life. Take it with my blessing,” said the lady, pulling a blade encased in a worn red sheath from an old trunk. With both hands she extended it out to me to take, a smile still on her lips, tears of gratitude sparkling in her eyes.

“Thank you,” said Peter, perhaps unnecessarily, but old habits die hard.

The lady nodded in response and went back to stirring the pot in the kitchen. The quest was complete.

In the center of his field of vision, Peter received a message declaring as much, along with one noting the EXP points gained.

“Alright, let’s head back to the inn and get some grub and call it a night,” said Mr. Stark, holding the door open for him.

Behind them the lady did not acknowledge them at all, but began carefully ladling the contents of the pot into a cup. Peter wondered if somewhere inside there really was a little NPC girl the lady tended to day in and day out, forever trying to alleviate an illness she was created to suffer through.

As Peter walked through the doorway out into the night, he thought back to Aunt May. Back to when he always seemed to catch whatever bug was going around at the time. She may not be the best cook, but one thing she had down pat was chicken noodle soup. She would stand over a pot in the kitchen just like the NPC had, cooking up a big batch that he could easily heat up through out the day when he felt up to eating. Their finances being what they were, she and Ben could not always get out of work so easily, if at all. They did their best to schedule their work so one could be there with him, but sometimes the overlap just wasn’t quite there. Fortunately, a little old lady all the apartment kids called Nana lived a couple doors down from them and was usually content to be on call for kids who needed it.

He wondered what Aunt May was doing right now. Was she sitting beside his hospital bed, holding his hand, but he couldn’t feel it? Were they literally in the same room with each other, but worlds apart? Would she talk to him like she used to when she thought he was sleeping, hoping against everything that he could somehow hear her? What would she say? They had only just started finding their new normal when this happened…

He looked down at this hands, but all he could feel was the weight of the sword he still held.

Tears came, unbidden and unwanted.

If that bastard was going to lock them in this prison, the least he could have done was not code in visual emotion effects.

“Awww… look at the little boy crying,” mocked one of the players outside the inn as they passed.

“Don’t be an asshole, Derrig. You cried for two days straight when this shit started,” said one of his party members, while slapping the offender on the back of the head.

“You ok, Peter?” asked Mr. Stark quietly. “I would offer to go beat the shit out of that guy, but not sure if its worth a duel.”

“No, don’t do that. I’m alright,” said Peter. “Let’s just get up to the room.”

“You go on up, I’ll order some dinner to be delivered,” said Mr. Stark.

Peter nodded. They pretty much always ate in a room so that Mr. Stark could remove his helmet. Occasionally Peter wished they could eat with the other players, just to visit with someone else for a change. This wasn’t one of those nights.

Once in their room, Peter quickly removed most of his gear, leaving only his breaches and his tunic. The sword he placed on the table.

Apparently the sword was called ‘Anneal Blade.’

Peter fell back into a chair, letting his head roll back, closing his eyes.

In the real world, he would undoubtedly be able to hear every conversation going on in the rooms around them, as well as whatever hubbub was going on in the main room downstairs. But in here there was naught but silence. It had taken him a bit to get used to not hearing literally everything going on around him. He hadn’t realized just how much noise he was used to constantly filtering through in his day to day life until it was completely removed. He had thought he would love not having to deal with his extra sensitive senses, but come to find out it was pretty anxiety inducing to have them taken away, like an extended bout of sensory deprivation.

If only he had never put on that Nervegear. If he had told Ned that maybe they should wait until the next round of production of SAO to get into the game, let them get the bugs worked out.

Except…

The door opened, and in came Mr. Stark and two plates of whatever today’s special was downstairs.

“They were pretty busy down there, so I just brought it up myself. Figured I’d listen in on a pub talk a minute and see if any news has been circulating,” Mr. Stark said, setting down the plates.

“Did you hear anything interesting?” asked Peter.

“Not much. But one group did mention that there were some rumors floating around about a Log-Out point in a forest west of the Town of Beginnings. No one going in has come out alive though, and the Rat has been trying to get word out that the information is false and didn’t come from her,” said Mr. Stark, sitting in the chair opposite.

“Ugh, that sucks,” said Peter. “What’s the point in starting a rumor like that anyway?”

“Some people get their kicks in screwed up ways, kid. It’s as simple as that.”

The lapsed into silence as they ate their meal. But eventually Peter noticed Mr. Stark looking up at him.

“What?” asked Peter.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Peter swallowed and shook his head, “Not much to talk about. Was just thinking about Aunt May.”

Mr. Stark nodded, “I’m not going to say she’s doing fine, because we both know that’s probably a lie. But I will say that she’s a strong woman, and I know as soon as we get out of here she will be right there waiting for you with some awful attempt at baked food and the world’s longest hug.”

Peter gave a laugh as tears began to spring up again.

“You’re definitely right. Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“Look kid,” said Mr. Stark with a sigh. “I know you enjoy watching me squirm, but I would really appreciate it if you would switch to just ‘Tony.’ For one thing, there’s millions of Tonys in the world, but with the right info out there the name ‘Mr. Stark’ might become a bit suspicious eventually. We’ve just been calling me by my user name outside of our room, and that’s worked out alright, but eventually you might slip. And given my track record on secret identities, we should probably do everything possible to avoid scrutiny as long as possible.”

“Dude, you never had a secret identity. As soon as Iron Man became a thing you outed yourself on live television,” said Peter with a caustic tone.

“Whatever, my point still stands,” said Mr. Stark, waving off Peter’s remark.

“Does it though?”

“Yes, please, please start calling me Tony.”

“It really bugs you, doesn’t it?” asked Peter with a laugh. “Why?”

Honestly, when he asked he had expected Mr. Stark to blow off the question and change the subject. Because in the real world— back before the Decimation— every time they’d had this conversation and he had asked, that was ultimately what Mr. Stark did.

This time however, a tense silence met his question.

“Growing up, Howard was always ‘Mr. Stark.’”

There was a pause, as if he was unsure whether to continue, or how.

“Pretty much everyone on earth calls me ‘Mr. Stark.’ And that’s who they see— billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, wanna-be hero, narcissist, hedonist. That’s by design. It’s what everyone expected from me—being my father’s son— and I rose to the occasion. There’s only a handful of people who have gotten past ‘Mr. Stark’ and made it to ‘Tony.’ At this point, I’d like to think you’re one of them who has.”

Peter sat in quiet shock. Then slowly his heart filled up to the brim with something warm and sad, until he felt he could have burst.

There were a million things he felt, and only a few he could say. But only one he felt needed to be said right then.

“Ok… Tony. But I don’t want to hear you call yourself a wanna-be hero again. Because you are a hero. To everyone… but especially me.”

Tony didn’t reply for a moment, but eventually settled on a nod.

“Alright, deal,” Tony finally said, turning back to his food.

The got a few more bites in before Tony spoke again.

“I’m thinking of skipping on meals for a while. I’m kinda curious how long it takes to actually start feeling hungry in here.”

Peter looked at him confused, “What do you mean? You haven’t been hungry? Like at all?”

Tony blinked at him, “No, you mean you have?”

“Uh, yeah… several times a day usually.”

“Huh… maybe its because of your real world metabolism bleeding through. But no, haven’t felt it at all yet. Seems like a waste of Cor for me to buy meals if I haven’t actually been hungry,” said Tony, finishing up the last bite of his roast. “Not to say that its a wasted experience. They did a pretty remarkable job on this coding. But it would probably be better to save what money we can for now.”

Peter nodded, turning back to his own plate, but could only bring himself to push the food around a little, his stomach suddenly a bit queasy. Perhaps Tony was right, and it was just because of his RL body needs…

He’d talk to a few other players about their experience. Just to be sure.

“So, ‘Anneal Blade,’ huh?” said Tony, looking over the sword still laying on the table. He brought up its specs to analyze.

“Yeah, not exactly sure what the name is about. I mean, I know about the annealing process in biochemistry. I studied it a bit after the spider bite. But not sure how that would really apply to a sword,” said Peter.

“It was originally a process to remove impurities and harden iron for weapons. That’s where scientists originally pulled the term from that they used for the DNA process,” said Tony offhand, still reading through the sword’s numbers and looking it over in his hands. “The sword is as good as the guide implied. It should definitely hold up for you for a good while. Especially once I can start enhancements on it. Looks like we can attempt up to eight.”

“Does that mean we need to put a blacksmith’s forge on the shortlist?” asked Peter.

“Nah, I still have a few levels before we need to worry about that. Still, like I said, it is probably a good idea to start pinching pennies where we can. Jesus, I haven’t had to save money since that time my old man cut me off for a while back in college. This sucks.”

“Welcome to how the other 99.9% live,” said Peter, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Tony shrugged, “Karma is definitely a bitch.”

“This isn’t karma. You’re just a spoiled brat.”

Tony stuck out his tongue, just like the mature adult he was.

Peter laughed, “Exactly. I’m calling it a night. We good to head out in the morning?”

“Yup, heading west from here to grind a bit on some of the higher level forest mobs. We’ll see where we end up after that.”

Peter nodded. Where ever they went and whatever they faced, they would do it together. They’d make it through this.

Even without his spider powers and Tony’s money, they were still Spider-man and Iron Man. Kayaba couldn’t take that away from them.

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bluesunsdusk · 4 years

Text

Evfra ranks the Milky Way species

under a read more for length

Krogan: Kesh is one. Large, versatile, upfront, blunt, have been through hell and come out fighting. They are a species of survivors. They know a lot about other Milky Way species in regards to how they treat each other. That is valuable information. Apparently, they used to give birth to many children before this was stripped from them by the turians and salarians. Good warriors, they never give up. Their clan system makes those on New Tuchanka effectively a large family with communal child rearing. I have concerns for how to manage their growing population in generations to come, but it should be manageable. They can be difficult to deal with and very dominant. They also scare the children. 8/10

Asari: Blue, seem nice, have a positive disposition towards aliens and are quickest to attempt to understand another species. Intelligent, pretty. Sometimes, they fall face-first into what Liam called the “uncanny valley,” however. They can be duplicitous and the species most likely to talk down to and dismiss more short-lived species. While understandable, it is also annoying. 6/10

Salarians: They are very intelligent and also short-lived. They created the genophage to use against the korgans and put the responsibility on the Turians when it's brought up, because the Turians deployed it. The Salarians, however, are notorious manipulators and should have known what Turians are like when it comes to war. There would have known that would happen and simply don’t wish to admit their responsibility in the fate of the krogans. They also look like unexalted kett. Tann is one... 4/10

Turians: Kandros is one. They have many good soldiers, are generally disciplined, and look less uncanny due to their entirely different appearance. Their noses are...interesting. Many claim they are less duplicitous than asari and salarians. Not good salesmen. Their voices are interesting as well. Their martial knowledge and prowess could prove beneficial. Unfortunately, their appearance also makes some look exalted at first glance. The first few of them spotted by the Resistance had been mistaken for a new breed of kett. They are horrid with emotions, they are clearly a predator species, they scare children perhaps more than krogans do, they deployed the genophage against the krogans and many still believe that was a good thing. 6/10

Humans: Ryder is one, which could be both good and bad. Jaal does speak well of Liam and Cora. Humans are, as the Krogans, headstrong and versatile. They are as capable of several of the traits noted in other species as those species, though taken to less extremes. Humans seem to have an ability to bond and empathize with the oddest of things, such as inanimate objects. That is, in a small way, comforting to know. 6/10

With more on the way, the list will expand and change, but there can be a judgement made based on the limited data provided.

Elcor: They sound like they will be confusing due to their severe lack in emotional expression through anything other than pheromones. They speak very slow and droning and may have difficulty adjusting to our people. Having something other than bipeds in Helius as intelligent species would be an interesting change in scenery, at least. They look a lot less uncanny than the humans, asari, and salarians due to not looking like angara in almost any way. That helps. 7/10

Vorcha: They aren’t something I’d like to see waking up... or at all. They look terrifying. Some traits make them look like someone sharpened a kett and bound human skin over it. Their leg structure being similar to angara doesn’t help in the slightest. Why are they growing so many spines? What purpose does that serve other than gutting something? They look somehow sharper than the turians. From the other species, it can be gathered that they are not very intelligent and that they are always found fighting. At least, the chances of them successfully lying to anyone are low. Them coming to Heleus is unlikely. 2/10... Maybe 3/10

Keepers: Word is that they will not be coming to Heleus because they are intrinsically bound to the Citadel, an ancient space station, since before the asari arrived on the scene. 10/10

Batarians: Batarians... aesthetically... The four eyes are off putting on a face like theirs, and their noses are very odd, as are their mouths. Their teeth do not make for a very approachable appearance. Batarians are said to be harsh and overly blunt. They also have a society built on slavery. If they intend to take that with them, I will have to beat that idea out of their heads as soon as possible. If I can’t, the rest of my people will. There will be no slavery in Heleus, whether I can help it or not. 2/10

Yahg: I’ll be honest, they look like an architect tried to mate with an eiroch and the union bore fruit. It seems a salarian got lost in there as well. They killed the people who tried to contact them on behalf of the Council because their body language was off. And some people thought angara were too volatile... Glad they won’t be coming here. 10/10 unless they were coming here. Then, they’d get a 3/10

Varren: Not intelligent, but they remind me a little of adhi, only smaller. A lot more manageable as companion animals. Adhi need to imprint from infancy. Not nearly as smart as adhi. however. They seem very soft. 10/10 Then again, their ability to breed rapidly and survive in almost any environment could make them a highly invasive species... Hm. 6/10

Volus: Small rotund suit-wearing species that breathes methane. They won’t be able to take many worlds the angara would be interested in, unless they usurp control of a vault, somehow. The chances of them succeeding at such a thing is unlikely. They’ve been in “Citadel space” longer than humans and serve crucial role, yet they are not welcomed into their highest leadership ranks. Volus are apparently good merchants. Trade is different in our culture. I wonder how they’ll adapt. No strong feelings looking at them, one way or another. 5/10

Quarians: Another suit-bound species. It’s surprising the Nexus had none in their ranks, hearing how experienced this species as a whole is with living in a flotilla. Such expertise would have been invaluable. Quarians are said to have a mutualistic relationship with the native flora and bug life of their homeworld, making their immune systems incredibly weak... Simply thinking about it makes me uncomfortable. How often they would get sick. That they chose to go to another galaxy with contaminants that they have zero resistances against is brave, considering. They lost their homeworld in building the Geth after the synthetic species became self aware and drove them off. I know how hard losing one’s home is. I feel for them, even if their aggressors were of their own making. 7/10

Geth: The AI created by the quarians and the reason they lived on a flotilla. There is not much on them as a species other than their light speed communication and how advanced they seem to be. I can’t say I have enough data to form an opinion on them. 5/10 --// Though, it’s 7/10 when taking @ssvdromio into account. ))

Drell: Drell are a reptilian species adapted for life on arid planets. They would love Elaaden. The hanar have taken them as a subservient species and the drell seem to be honored by this. Stars know why... What is interesting about them is how they process and store memory. A result of the scarcity on the planet that caused the hanar to take them in. I wonder how different it is from our memory. Apparently, they secrete a venom from their skin as well. 7/10

Hanar: The hanar are a...what Ryder called a jellyfish-like species. They are pink and aquatic and float with the use of biotics. Their communication is through bioluminescence. They are largely reliant on the drell and keep them in a form of indentured servitude as repayment for taking them onto their homeworld, despite the fact that drell are ill-suited to the climate. Furthermore, the majority are zealous in their belief of the enkindlers. I have reason to believe the ones coming to Heleus will not be as bad. However, If they do try to spread that nonsense to my people, we’ll have a problem. 4/10

Protheans: They are extinct, which is unfortunate. There has been speculation of what the specie looks like, most of them not pleasant on the eyes. Why do tentacles come from the face in one of the speculations? Horrifying. The Hanar renditions are a lot more palatable. All is known in that they connect through beacons that project information and memories to the user. It sounds familiar, in a way. 6/10

All of them lose a 1 off their score for assuming there will be space for all of them in the long term and seemingly not considering that another galaxy would be as inhabited as their own or simply not caring about the complications.

#about evfra #ic: Evfra #in a way #fandom: mass effect #fandom: mass effect andromeda #it is very long #long post #he's joking about the 10/10 to anyone not coming to heleus btw

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toxikku · 5 years

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Ducktales Switched AU: Masterpost !

I was asked to make a masterpost pertaining to my feelsy AU and figured considering how far it’s come, it was needed!

Brief summary: This is an AU where Scrooge and Magica’s roles have been swapped. Gladstone takes the place of Lena after Scrooge saved him from the House of Lucky Fortune, whilst a shadow child called Lena takes the place of Magica’s niece. Magica lives in the mansion with Lena, Webby, Mrs. Beakley, and her brother-turned-raven, Poe. Scrooge’s family is of magical heritage, including Donald and his boys who are currently estranged from the old miser after a terrible accident involving Della Duck. The unlucky duck avoided Duckburg all their lives up until the kids hijacked and sabotaged the boat to visit out of curiousity. And then the shenanigans began.

Now the core aspect of it is out of the way, more information under the cut! Biographies may vary in length (and key events) as I am still figuring out concepts. As a result, I may make edits occasionally! If you have any further questions, even about characters I’ve already talked about or have YET to talk about, please shoot!

The official tag for it is #ducktales switched au, until further notice!

CHARACTERS:

Magica De Spell: The richest duck in the world, Magica is a well reknowned figure in the world, running huge companies as well as owning a considerable amount of land. Her estate used to belong to the one and only Scrooge McDuck, until she bought it out after his disappearance. She does adventure in her spare time (and has done in the past, crossing paths with Scrooge AND Goldie), though is quite a busy business woman so rarely has time for her domestic life. Extremely eccentric and a little chaotic, but she does get the job done. Has dabbled in magic before, but after her brother was turned into a raven, doesn’t much do so anymore.

Scrooge McDuck: An infamous warlock of his time, Scrooge McDuck was a former treasure hunter and magical artefact collector, jolly and passionate. He ventured the world with his nephew and niece gathering items which slowly corrupted his mindset, much to the worries of Donald. He became power hungry, possessive, and stuck in his own decisions - and that ended terribly when Della Duck tried to lead him away from the life of corruption. A reflex stray of magic ended in disaster, and in one day, both relatives left him. Grieving over the loss of Della and how it was all his fault, he left behind his estate and relocated to Mt. Vesuvius, then spent the following years lost and searching for a way to get Della back, no matter the casualities. His first real attempt to get her back was thwarted by Magica De Spell, and he was trapped in his own dime for five years up until the events of the Shadow War.

Lena De Spell: Magica’s ‘niece’. After fleeing numerous boarding schools, Lena turned up on Magica’s doorstep and wound up adopted. She was created during the fight between Magica and Scrooge, much like in canon, only this time around, Gladstone was there to take her place. Magica took her in partly out of guilt and responsibility for her creation, and they’ve been together ever since. Lena rarely gets to see her aunt much, and Magica’s spoilings don’t really help this - though that does change eventually, around the time she met these three weird kids. Lena’s connection to Scrooge is something Magica does stress over though...

Webby Vanderquack: Lena’s best friend and local conspiracy theorist. Not much different from her canon counterpart, she gushes over the De Spell family’s history, much to the irritation of Lena who frankly could care less. With how busy Magica is, Webby and Lena are constantly together, and go on adventures with Gladstone Gander, the triplets, and the entire family if they’re lucky. Family dictionary, and her world totally wasn’t shaken when she discovered Scrooge McDuck’s belongings in the manor.

Gladstone Gander: Scrooge’s lucky adopted and non-magical nephew. At some point before Scrooge was shadow-fied, Gladstone was saved from the Lucky Casino by his uncle. In exchange, he agreed to help Scrooge out without reading the fine print (binding contracts are never good). After Scrooge and Magica’s battle, Scrooge’s shadow attached to his, and the rest rolls out as you’d expect. He eventually becomes involved in the De Spells’ lives, trying to retrieve the number one dime for his uncle and earn his freedom. Unfortunately, his growing attachment to the family means his luck doesn’t really work with him, at least for Scrooge’s goals. Becomes quite protective of Lena and Webby (and usually stands up to Scrooge because of them), and develops awkward feelings for Magica.

Has no idea what Scrooge’s actual motives are, and Scrooge is hesitant to say them in case Gladstone rebels. Not that he doesn’t eventually anyways. Come the Other Bin, the goose has enough of his uncle’s orders but that ends badly for him, and the freedom in the Shadow War is temporary. Cursed a shadow, but that doesn’t stop him protecting the kids, which is his end - least in waking life. Stiiiiill pondering who his shadow gets attached to.

Donald Duck: Scrooge’s magical nephew and your typical bad luck magnet. Before the incident with his relatives, he ventured the world while studying magic under his uncle’s wing. Lived in Duckburg until Della’s disappearance, then left with the boys, constantly on the move for a new home (and job). Wary about the usage of magic after what happened to Della, though hesitantly taught the boys what he knows (at least the bare minimum). Occasionally traveled with his friends, José Carioca and Panchito, and didn’t return to Duckburg until his curious nephews hijacked the boat and stranded them there. Spends most of his time looking for a new job to fix the boat. Fixed up the boat over the course of season 1, but it wound up getting broken again by its end. Magica offered his family to stay come season 2 in thanks for the battle against his uncle.

Della Duck: The missing mother. She ventured with her uncle and brother, though unlike them wasn’t that invested in magic. Della focused on practicality, and although she was a talented witch at a young age, she ultimately lost interest and wanted to tackle everything hands on. She disappeared before her children were born, sucked into a portal to the underworld after trying to confiscate an artefact from her uncle’s grasp and being hit by a stray bout of magic. As far as everyone knows, Della is long dead. Her memorial can be found at Castle McDuck, and her family visits it often.

Huey: An incredibly bright child with a knack for reading; takes to spellbooks like a duck to water. Typically the nephew most knowledgeable on spells and if you need a magic dictionary, then he’s your guy. Has about as much potential as Donald when it comes to magic ability, but he’s still learning and as a result his spells vary in strength. Into science and idolizes Gizmoduck, finding the practicality of science and technology fascinating.

Dewey: Darts right into danger just like his mother; Dewey has had accidents with his spell casting, and accidentally snapped his wand at a point (those are expensive to replace)/ His spellcasting has pretty good strength for a boy his age... until you realize it has zero handling. Until he can get a lid on it, his spells are pretty unstable and the wand doesn’t help things. Despite its defects, however, only Dewey knows how to somewhat work it because he’s had it so long. Dewey headed the ‘let’s sabotage the boat while Donald is sleeping and go to Duckburg’ plan.

Louie: The lazy triplet has a lot of tricks up his sleeves. Spells are usually pretty tame as he has a tendency to just use them for house chores, but out of all the triplets, he has the strongest magical capability. The downside is he’s just never motivated to push himself that far. As such, he has a habit of getting into the most trouble - and since he’s still building self confidence, fear isn’t the motivation he needs.

Poe de Spell: A duck cursed to be a raven by Scrooge McDuck; he was transformed into a raven during Scrooge’s final confrontation with Magica. Generally acts as her sister’s advisor of sorts, wary, wise, but still as snarky as in the OG Ducktales. Acts as a Zazu to Lena, in that sense, but cursed teens are always able to evade a watchful eye. He’s a raven the entirety of Season 1 before the wizard, Donald Duck, is able to turn him back after the events of the Shadow War.

Launchpad McQuack: The family driver/pilot - Magica admires his positive and smashing energy and wouldn’t have any other person to drive her to and from her destinations.

Goldie o’Gilt: Scrooge McDuck’s old flame; she had history with the warlock before he took a turn for the worse. Their relationship was about as you’d expect until the incident, then it grew colder with every encounter because Goldie’s rivalry was intrusive to Scrooge’s plans. She had no idea what incited this change. Attended a party and ran into another old rival: Magica De Spell, and they ventured to white agony plains together (where Goldie was reminiscent of the days with Scrooge, though she said little about it to Magica).

Mrs. Beakley: Agent 22 - used to work with Scrooge McDuck, and soon as his housekeeper until Della’s disappearance and his leave. Signed up for the same job with Magica de Spell, awaiting her former boss’ return and to keep an eye on his belongings.

Duckworth: The manor’s ghost; previously served under Scrooge McDuck before his disappearance. Along with Mrs. Beakley, is currently guarding the warlock’s belongings. Extremely loyal to Scrooge in general, but due to the bonds he’s made with the people around him, that loyalty is a tad strained. Unlike in canon, he actually stayed behind before the events of the Shadow War.

STILL TO COME:

Fenton Crackshell:

Gyro Gearloose:

Downy & Fergus

AND A BUNCH MORE. PROBS.

LINKS:

REFERENCES:

Scrooge

Donald.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie.

Poe De Spell.

LORE:

The Scrooge sketch that started it all - This was just a random idea I came up with one day; I loved role switch AUs, especially when they’re with antagonists and protagonists.

Initial Magica Concept - Later adapted the design to better fit the design in the reboot.

General PSA about the AU - 1 - Not everyone changes drastially; they’re just adapted.

General PSA about the AU - 2 - About the general storyline.

McDuck Family Lore - 1 - The McDuck family are one of magic, Gladstone being the exception as he is adopted. Della died due to a magical accident and Donald was unable to save her.

De Spell Family Lore - 1 - About Magica’s relationship with Lena and her characterisation in general.

De Spell Family Lore - 2 - Information on the raven, Poe de Spell, and Lena.

Poe & Gladstone - stuff about Poe’s personality and fate, with a bit about Gladstone.

Lena’s Existence in the AU - shadow child, ye.

Donald - 1 - Initial Donald design; pretty basic and eventually got changed.

Donald - 2 - Doodle of that boy.

Scrooge - 1 - Doodles; Scrooge’s infamy is pretty well known and he won’t stand for family members getting in the way of his goals.

Donald and the boys - 1 - Donald teaches the boys magic... but only with restraint.

Donald and the boys - 2 (+Gladstone meta) - Slightly scrapped concept; Donald was stranded in Duckburg with the boys instead of constantly traveling the world across the season so he and the boys would be more involved with the plot.

Donald and the boys - 3 - and where they’re living.

Donald and Della’s childhood - they were so smol.

Della’s Scarf - ouch.

Dewey’s Wand - 1 - it broken.

Dewey’s Wand - 2 - but he knows how to use it.

The Triplets & their involvement - I still love this idea so much.

Scrooge and Gladstone - 1 - An old concept I suppose; I’m honestly thinking about scrapping this as ‘marriage’ takes a little too long for Scrooge’s liking and the concept just irks me a little.

Scrooge and Gladstone - 2 - Gladstone trying to casually divert attention to something else does not work in the slightest.

Scrooge and Gladstone - 3 - Summary of how Scrooge’s quest to save Gladstone and get his backup plan for the fight against Magica went.

Scrooge and Gladstone - 4 - Decided to mess with a different kind of perspective.

Voice Musing - I saw stuff in the tags it had me thinking emoji.

Scrooge and Gladstone - 5 - lore galore in the tags, btw.

Scrooge’s relationship with Goldie - talks a bit about her debut ep.

not canon but HOW DARE YOU ANON - scrooge and goldie hurt me.

Gladstone’s interactions with the kids - 1 - Lena is generally suspicious but Webby is painfully open.

Gladstone’s interactions with the kids - 2 - Lena is a suspicious child wary for Webby’s sake. Also I am called out for having too much Gladstone in this AU. Looking at this list, I can confirm I am trash.

Gladstone’s interactions with Magica - 1 - spoilers: he’s a dork.

JAW$ redraw but it’s Gladstone and Scrooge - I spent so much time on this but it was really worth it. He likely would have had the friendship bracelet Webby gave him but I was too burnt out to draw that section.

JAW$ doodles (Lena, Gladstone and Scrooge) - in which a teenager is baffled and shocked this guy would save anyone but himself.

Other Bin Doodles (Gladstone ft. Lena) - Some sketches I did after rewatching the Other Bin; Lena and Webby both get turned into dolls in this one.

Other Bin suffering - goose boy sad, save him.

Gladstone and Magica content (ft. Lena) - someone asked for Magicstone so I delivered.

Fenton & Gyro - some general stuff and their relationship with their boss.

Mrs. Beakley’s role in the Switched AU - I don’t talk about her enough tbh.

Scrooge’s old personality and his relationship with his niece and nephew - meta is so fun to write out but ouch.

Scrooge’s Motives & About Della - was rather painful to write about.

Scrooge and Donald - 1 - Did you know Della’s scarf used to be whole?

Shadow War Sketches - 1 - Man I really was on a field trip with these.

Shadow War Sketches - 2 - in which Gladstone perishes.

Shadow War Sketches - 3 - got to work with good expressions with these.

Shadow War Sketches - 4 - veeeeery proud of these.

Fake Shadow War Screenshots - got asked to edit suffering and I delivered.

Fake Triplet Screenshots - edits of the children.

Fake Scrooge Screenshots - I still don’t think green suits him tbh.

Fake Magica screenshot - she.

Shadow Gladstone and his fate - This... was dark.

Fenton and Scrooge - Took place after the Shadow War, I guess, while Scrooge is grieving.

This is a serious AU - yeah... i got nothin to say.

Inspiration - I’m a nerd, go figure.

Fanfiction WIP - who knows when I’ll finish it, but it’s in the works.

Scrapped Visual Novel - Maybe? Idk, depends if I ever get time for it.

Misc. Sketches - [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Misc. Asks - [x] [x] [x] [x]

Headcanon commentary - [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

BEAUTIFUL ART BY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE:

domiinon:

Scrooge

Scrooge again and I am sobbing

All the Scrooges need hugs tbh

THIS LOOKS SO AMAZING?? LOOK AT IT??

scrooge support squad for all the angst we put them through

KJGNJFDNGDJ THEY ALL LOOK FABULOUS

bloosume:

Scrooge

fini-mun:

The End

kats-kreations:

Last Christmas aka kat breaks my heart

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales reboot #scrooge mcduck #magica de spell #gladstone gander #ducktales au #ducktales switched au #ducktales switched au master list #long post #disney #disney ducks #au #alternate universe #STILL working on this and will be making updates every now and then; i'll reblog this when i do!

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aq2003 · 4 years

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today is international fanworks day, heres a list of some of my favorite fics

-star wars

The Silent Song by Eirian Erisdar When Qui-Gon Jinn is told to take a new padawan, the Force pushes him towards a certain initiate - but when Qui-Gon is told that Obi-Wan cannot speak, he hesitates. And all the while, Palpatine moves in the shadows...

A Trophy, Nothing More by solojones After killing Obi-Wan Kenobi in 'A New Hope', Darth Vader takes a moment to reflect on what he's done.

Adagio by ruth baulding A slow movement, in a minor key, set on Tatooine post-Mustafar.

The Weeds in the Wilderness by ealcynn A man wakes on a cold and desolate moor. He knows he is hurt. He knows he is alone. What he doesn't know is what he is, or where he came from. He doesn't know even his own name. But there is something else that this man knows, and that is that if he doesn't get help soon, he is going to die. And on this strange new world, there are so many dangers.

Teachers by Selena "Remember, Anakin, the master learns as much from the padawan as the padawan learns from the master." Eight lessons Anakin Skywalker learns through Ahsoka Tano, and one Darth Vader does.

one door closes, another opens by isabilightwood Ahsoka runs through a portal in the Lothal Jedi Temple, and finds herself seventeen years in the past. Only to find everything is slightly different - her seventeen-year-old past self was just executed, Obi-wan is missing, and Anakin fell eight months early, prompting Order 66 just after her arrival. With only her questionably useful knowledge of the Empire as a guide, Ahsoka finds herself helping to build a rebellion from scratch. Again. But this time, with a few more Jedi left in the galaxy. Some of whom could cause more problems than they solve.

Reprise by Elfpen Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Part 1 of Reprise

Hard Deviations by flute25 “The snares of the world were its ways of sin. He would fall. He had not fallen but he would fall and surely, in an instant. Not to fall was too hard and he felt the silent lapse of his soul, as it would be at some instant to come, falling, falling, but not yet fallen, still not fallen but about to fall.” James Joyce - Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man Obi-wan Kenobi goes undercover, fighting a battle against Dooku, the Sith, and himself. Takes place during the Rako Hardeen arc. Part 2 of Divergences

Drifting Starlight by Pandora151 Just before the fateful Battle of Naboo, Qui-Gon Jinn is brought to the future, to the Clone Wars. He doesn't know why or how, but he knows one thing for sure: He never, in a million years, expected the galaxy to end up like this. Part 2 of The Journey of the Lights

-mcu

for good by Madelinedear "Sorry, May, we can't all be best friends with a celebrity.” May opens her mouth to retort reflexively, the words 'we aren’t even friends' on the tip of her tongue before she closes her mouth. Because they are friends, now. They’re way past that point. Oh my god, she thinks somewhat hysterically. Tony Stark is my best friend. (or; Tony Stark, May Parker, and the road to something like friendship) Part 1 of call you home

Exclusive by copperbadge Heroes In Manhattan: From Captain America's Hidden Talents To The Truth About The Hulk, We Debunk The Myths And Expose The Daily Lives Of The Avengers. Part 1 of Magazineverse

Watch Our Souls Fade Away by GloriousBlackout Nebula and Tony struggle to come to terms with everything they've lost as they make the journey back to Earth. Takes place immediately after the events of Avengers: Infinity War.

the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider Tony deals with the aftermath of Infinity War. He needs to get things back to normal. And Peter is an essential part of normal. Part 1 of rattle universe

home training by theformerone T'Chaka takes Erik back to Wakanda. Erik is a problem child. Part 1 of erik stevens, prince of wakanda

We've Made It This Far, Kid by EmAndFandems Tony's just trying to protect the kid from SHIELD. Why does everything have to be so hard? Meanwhile, Peter's biggest problem is buying movie tickets, until he gets a harsh awakening.

the spider-man conspiracy by tempestaurora WHO IS SPIDER-MAN? The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks. “My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.” OR "what if peter just decided to fuck with everyone who didn’t know he was spider man and make a documentary about him trying to uncover the Truth." Part 1 of the conspiracy kids

Below Freezing by aftersoon (notboldly) When Rhodey crash lands in the Himalayan wilderness, it tests more than just his survival skills.

-marvel 616

Resurrection, Reconstruction & Redemption by Elspethdixon, Seanchai Doom brings Steve back from the dead. Hijinks ensue, some of which might vaugely be considered plot. Part 1 of Resurrection-verse

Winter Is All Over You by Kiyaar Tony can't remember why he's running.

Sea Stars by Muccamukk Summary: Steve comes back to life somewhere entirely unexpected; Tony doesn’t remember being a hero; something is rotten in the province of British Columbia, and the 2010 Olympics are doomed.

(Not So) Lonely At The Top by foldingcranes Summary: Riri has a bad day, and Tony tries to be An Emotionally Available Adult for her. It doesn’t go so bad.

Emanata (The Comics Will Break Your Heart Remix) by teaberryblue Summary: Steve Rogers has the opportunity to fulfill his childhood dreams of becoming a comic artist when eccentric billionaire, superhero patron, and obsessive comic enthusiast Tony Stark offers him a job drawing Iron Man. But Tony Stark has no idea that Steve Rogers is really Captain America, the newest member of the Avengers. And Iron Man has no idea that Captain America is really Steve Rogers, up-and-coming comic book artist. And Steve doesn’t know what to do about the fact that he’s falling head over heels for them both.

Changeling by Sineala Instead of deleting his entire brain and reloading from a backup, Tony attempts to erase just the SHRA database from his mind. As Steve later finds out, this is unfortunately not what he actually did. Part 1 of Changeling

Zero Sum by Crait Did you do your best, Anthony? And did your best only make things worse?Series Part 1 of Stark Disassembled

-jojo’s bizarre adventure

nothing like the sun by succubused

“All Jotaro’s other targets are dead. Except for you.” Malika cocked her head, considering Kakyoin. “After he came back the last time and he was…alone in there, I…grew him flowers, a few times. I wasn’t supposed to. But he was in the dark for so long. I thought he wouldn’t mind losing a little bit of blood as long as it reminded him there was still something left.” “What do you mean,” Kakyoin said slowly, “‘in the dark’?” Malika didn’t answer. White flowers unfurled from her forearm, gentle trickles of blood rising up the thin stems. She watched them thoughtfully. White poppy; consolation. She plucked a poppy out of her arm and held it carefully between two fingers. “You have to get him out,” she said. “You have to.”

AU where Jotaro is the evil brainwashed assassin sent to kill Kakyoin, who makes life very complicated for Dio by being better at counterpossession than he is. Part 1 of nothing like the sun

somebody's baby boy ain't coming home tonight by simkjrs He rolls back the sleeve on his left arm and looks at the scabbed-over words that have been cut into his skin.

KASAI 181 BRING PEN

It’s not like Jotaro makes it a habit to listen to what other people say to him, but this is too strange of a case. He doesn’t remember doing this to himself, but if he didn’t do it, then who? And if he did do it, then why can’t he remember? ---- Four months after Egypt, and there is something strange happening back at home.

I am the desert by catboysam Jotaro hated to admit it to himself, but despite the fact that he hadn't teared up when they left Japan, he missed his grandfather’s presence. After having him beside him for so long and through so much, being separated from him felt… almost wrong. Like another thing was missing. And the more he lingered on that thought, the more the lack of Polnareff's presence felt wrong too. Jotaro invites Polnareff to his high school graduation.

the sidewalk soldiers sing the midnight blues by queenieofaces In hindsight, he doesn’t know why it didn’t occur to him that losing a hand might affect his hamon. His lungs are fine, but the flow of energy through his body is different now, no matter how imperceptibly.

The Best-Laid Plans by deuil Jotaro'd mentioned to Josuke on a few occasions that every plane that Joseph Joestar's ever been on has crashed and burned. Josuke wonders now if he's somehow managed to metaphorically inherit that trait.

Can't Go Back Now by etymologyplayground "No, no, he was not the devil. It is just that he was called Diavolo. … Well, maybe he was, I don't know," Giorno says. "Bene, he was the… director? Of Passione." "Boss," Fugo supplies him. "He was the boss." Giorno snaps his fingers at Fugo gratefully. "He was the boss. I should not care about him personally except that he made Passione sell drugs, and weapons. That's no good, you know." Jolyne slides her eyes over to Hermès, who is very resolutely looking at the road. She bites her lip. Jolyne thinks about the dime bag of weed currently sitting in the glove compartment. "Oh, yeah, for sure." -- Giorno and Fugo visit the Florida crew. Jolyne figures some stuff out about herself, her dad, and Hermès.

Untitled (1980-2014) by platinumfinale Jotaro Kujo, and his family, grows up. Contains spoilers for parts 3-6.

and the PTA meetings are worse by shonens Love thy neighbor. Or hate them. Hate them so passionately you trim your hedges in the shape of 'get fucked' in hopes of ruining their day. A collection of AU short stories about mudad, oradad, and suburbia.

#i put some fics that are part of a series here. this means that you should read the whole series it's just that fic thats my personal fav #i also didnt put more than 1 fic from an author so this post wouldnt have gotten 3 miles long #but pls check out other fics by the writers on this reclist . pls do they're very good #in terms of fanart: just scroll thru my sw + jojo tag on this blog and my 'save' tag on my iron man blog all the good stuff's there #who am i.txt

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japanstopbrawler1992 · 4 years

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READ ME

ZERO TOLERANCE FOR RACIST CHASERS/GAY-FOR-STRAIGHT-CONSUMPTION/OOC TRANSPHOBIA/ANY RACISM WHATSOEVER UNLESS SHOWN AS BAD BY NARRATIVE AND CONFINED TO AGREED UPON PLOTTING

I set Savers in its airing year, so Masaru was born in '92. Can take place anytime after episode 49. However, there just won't be any explicit sexual content regardless of when the thread takes place. I also don't auto-ship: I'm here to walk a character through things, so ships will all be more slow-burn. Also, while Masaru's just pan, I'm actually asexual, so don't even expect me to present beyond a textbook understanding of sexual attraction

Masaru's kind of a jerk. My other two muses are generally at least kind unless the other person isn't, but Masaru's kind of abrasive and gleefully violent. If we're playing, I'll probably warn you beforehand, but Masaru may snap at your muse if your muse isn't a little kid. If your muse didn't deserve it, he'll probably apologise at some point, but yeah, this muse is even less like me than 02's Ken (Bleach's Ichigo is my muse most like me)

I'm on mobile. Period. I can't cut threads. I usually just tag "long post." Can't cut threads.

Seen JP ver only. Haven't seen any others, and I have no reason to bother--the original's in my native. Why would I bother with "orange juice bomb"?

Masaru is mixed race here. In a planned project that's a sister project to my Bleach project I already got a bit of stuff up for, Masaru's mum is Japanese and Russian, and related to Junpei of Frontier, and Masaru's dad was Japanese and Afghani. Masaru actually does speak Japanese, Russian, and Persian.

Masaru's also trans here. He never got puberty blockers, but he finally got testosterone at 13. So his voice changed at a pretty normal age. But he does need a binder and all that. (He loved that black tank top he wears after the memory wipe because it was just the right cut to cover the binder while showing off his arm muscles!) He does someday want kids, and Japanese law, like most US states or most places, requires sterilisation to recognise gender change. His papers also say a different first name. Of course, this probably came up with Satuma. Satuma and payroll at DATS probably know all about it. But being trans isn't *as* hard in Japan as the Anglophonic world. Especially thanks to Kamikawa Aya advocating on outlets like NHK radio since '95, which Masaru would be three then.

I toss the epilogue. Don't like the losing their digimon, and Masaru ditching his family he feels so responsible for and his dad he just got back?

Actually, in my project, ep 48 never happens. Suguru is dead, DATS remains, and Sayuri gets BanchouLeomon as her digimon partner.

Oh, another rule--poor spelling and grammar is acceptable if you are not a native speaker. It infuriates me to no end that I'm supposed to be an idiot for being fluent in three just because English is not my first, but native speakers get to run around spelling "bins" "ben's" and congratulating themselves for "kohnichuwa" but I get beaten/decried for actually knowing the language... And also, ,ZERO TOLERANCE for "garnish my human default English with exotic Japanese uwu" See "zero tolerance for chasers and racism"

Totally available to play in Japanese or Spanish, but you must be fluent.

Masaru lives in Tobechou, Yokohama. I went to the Chinatown in Yokohama once with my dad, but I lived in Koube. And we didn't leave Hanshin region all that much. My knowledge of much outside there being a Chinatown in the '80s (obviously still there, as it was the setting for the Savers movie) and big landmarks like Minatomirai is minimal. I also haven't been back to Japan period since '94. My relatives there are all deceased since the '90s, and flights alone are 1,000$, which, until recently, was definitely over a month of rent. Two for a studio, one plus a couple hundred for a 1 or 2LDK, depending. Might even have had 1.5 baths. By the time Savers was airing in Japan, I was able to keep up with Japanese news via now-gone Japanese-language broadcasts in California, as well as the Web, which is also how I saw Savers. But my knowledge of Japanese things may run the risk of being almost 30 years out of date. Or it might be completely current because I still read Asahi News, the most left-leaning paper I can find. Unsure if related to Hanshin region channel 6, but channel 6 was the best when I was there.

The Daimon family didn't move when Masaru came out, but he came out pretty young. It's just difficult to get trans care for minors. That being said, most peers don't know he's trans. They do know he's mixed, though. That being said, it's not like it's *only* him fighting racist bullies. It's only partially that. Like I said, I fully acknowledge he's pretty abrasive. So he's not completely blameless for all the fights. He could easily someday be the kind of parent who gets arrested for punching a rival dad. Violence is not a last resort for him. It's the best resort.

I do multi-para and don't use icons. But I'm not asking for an exact word count match. All I ask is give me stuff to go off of in replies and for Heaven's sake, do *not* format like House of Leaves when you play with me. Format button abuse looks like a visual panic attack, and is just too chaotic for me to read.

I may go spotty on replies with you. I'll still chat with you via the messenger thingy, and I don't play with people I've never spoken to, even if I've started the interaction, because I need to filter for my sanity, so I need to know the people I play with aren't gonna pull racism or something on me, but when my replies slow, it's because I work on-call at a shelter for seriously physically ill people, I'm also disabled myself, and I don't have the ability to put enough energy for the high-quality replies I strive to give in at the moment. I'm stalling because I want to give you my best. If I want to drop a thread, which is admittedly rare, I'll let you know. I won't leave you guessing.

Some h/cs just for fun

Masaru loves metal. The metal I know is 70s prog and 80s glam metal and stuff. I don't really like much music past about '94, and exactly two albums after 2000 (neither are metal)

Masaru has always had the same kind of attention span I have now even though I completely didn't when I was younger. He's running commentary if you watch an movie with him, his biggest problem with school is the whole sitting and passively listening to a lecture part, he thinks he doesn't like reading because others always talk about sitting there and reading for hours on end (if he's older, he may have realised it's OK to read for 20-minute bursts, something I eventually realised, too). He only really learns by doing. That being said, depending on age, he may not have had the chance to *realise* that yet.

He wouldn't become a sumo wrestler, but he totally watches it. Honestly, any fighting sport, and he's there.

He's very Japanese as far as religion. Sort of takes part and believes in a lot of them at the same time, but none are a overly influential part of his life. This is a thing.

Crossovers with any season preceding Savers are pretty easy with this blog considering my project. The project will eventually merge with the Bleach project, toi, so I also have a thing for that. Overall, I welcome crossovers with most animated media. Live action, I'll consider if you don't use icons with me (it ends up looking like Who Framed Roger Rabbit in my head) I don't do any real person stuff beyond, say, having Masaru listen to real bands or know of other public figures.

There is also a flexibility in playing Masaru in other countries. He could visit family in Russia or Afghanistan, he can be sent over from DATS to help with digimon appearances in countries allied with Japan (coughcontroloverjapanliketheuscough) or I totally ship him with Touma, so he could be in whatever that country is (obviously a Germanic nation in Western Europe)

He's definitely leftist, but his tactics aren't really common among the left. Typically, it's the fascists that will throw the first punch. Except Masaru will, as well. Unfortunately, this means he can take *away* from, say, antifa efforts to counter demo anti-Korean rioters.

He looks down on most weapon use, but probably none more so than guns and other weapons that remove the user from the target. To him, anyone who hides safely behind a weapon and makes the fight so one-sided is a coward. To this extent, he thinks war should be done away with and the leaders of the countries should duel instead of America just wiping out thousands of Japanese (WWII) or Afghani (during his lifetime) civilians (well, in that war, it was definitely not the Afghani government's fault, as that was a radical rebel sect powered initially by Regean, but it was most certainly civilian deaths en masse)

Masaru cannot meditate at all. He's also very reactive. To that extent, he's never really done well with martial arts. There's a lot less focus on self-discipline in boxing and wrestling than in Aikido or karate or what have you. He'd probably love the intensity of Krav Maga or CQC. I just don't know if Krav Maga has a self-discipline component. CQC almost certainly doesn't--it's American.

More when I think of it.

#rules #about #about muse

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elliepassmore · 5 years

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Tower of Dawn Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: fantasy, magic, desert fantasy, multiple POVs, healers, Chaol Westfall, court intrigue, thriller I really like this one, but I will also readily admit that this is the creepiest book in the series. ToG had the creep/thriller aspect with the Ridderak and Cain, and CoM sort of touched on the side of thriller without actually diving in, but Tower goes further in than even ToG did. I like it, even the thriller aspect, but it’s definitely creepy. I can’t tell how I feel about Chaol for the first half of the book. He’s definitely still going strong on his end-of-QoS vibe, and he seems to have forgiven a lot of what he was angry about in that book, but he also still hasn’t let go of things—such as his loyalty and obedience—as much as he had in HoF. For starters, though, it’s nice to see Chaol return to being the kind of playful snappy he was in CoM, I’d forgotten how funny he could be. So, I really liked how jokey Chaol was in this one, and I liked his handling of the royal family, going so far as to scheme his way into a meeting with the khagan. I still felt that Chaol was a bit…condescending throughout the book, though he once again got better about it at the end of the book. I did really like being in Chaol’s head in this one, though. After reading this, I feel like he wasn’t really present in QoS as much as he was in the other books. Like, he was there and narrating, but he didn’t feel there. Seeing in his head in this one makes a lot of things suddenly make a lot more sense, and we even get an explanation for his previous blind obedience. Yes, admittedly, some of it was him being willfully ignorant, but more of it was him giving up certain privileges to knowledge in order to protect Dorian. Chaol’s journey with his injury was interesting. I’m not really a fan of how ableist he was being, but I can also acknowledge that shedding that ableism off was a crucial part of his journey and that we probably aren’t supposed to like it. Chaol needed to realize for himself that just because he couldn’t move his legs didn’t mean he was less than or couldn’t still contribute to the coming fight. His realization comes from the healing process, which has three different parts. One part is the physical healing that Yrene does to repair the damage to his spinal cord. Another part is the metaphysical/psychological healing that both he and Yrene have to participate in, and this is the part that really makes me understand him and how he sees things better. And then there’s the part that involves seeing things from the outside and realizing no one really looks down on him, and that his injury does not remove him from the prospect of fighting against Erawen. Chaol’s journey is a different version of Celaena’s story in HoF. They are both struggling with similar emotions, both wanting to be rid of them and ignore them, and both come to realize that ignoring them and being rid of their negative emotions and memories won’t solve anything. Same general arc, different people, different situation, different story, but a way to show many sides of the same issue. I love Nesryn’s side of things in this one. She’s a fun narrator, partly because she’s so excited to be in her home city, but also because she’s got a very relaxed vibe that none of the other characters really have. She’s worried and tense about certain things, but she definitely handles it better than a lot of the other characters in this series. Nesryn ends up with the rukhin riders and Sartaq for most of the book, and I would probably kill for a whole separate book just about the rukhin riders, Sartaq and Kadara, and Nesryn and Salkhi. Nesryn’s journey is one away from Adarlan. She loves the country, is willing to fight for it and the innocent people there, but spending time in the Southern Continent, exploring its reaches, has her slowly switching over. Nesryn’s main development in this one, I think, is deciding where she calls home. Regardless of where it is, she’s going to fight against Erawen, but I think a part of her needs that identity settled when we first come into this book, and her development centers around that. The world and culture there is so different from those seen in the rest of the book, and the prospect of people who live in mountain homes and ride the wind on the backs of giant birds is pretty awesome. Nesryn’s main goal is to find information to help defeat Erawen and to convince Sartaq to lend his aerial legions to the cause. Of course, things never really go to plan and Nesryn ends up venturing beyond the rukhin riders’ homes and seeing Stygian Spiders, which are called the khalankui in the Southern Continent, as well as visiting some thousand-year-old ruins, so a pretty wide range of places all in one go. It’s interesting to see a new land from the POV of someone who hails from that land. We didn’t really get to see that with Rowan and Wendlyn, since Rowan barely narrated that book, but Nesryn is one of the main narrators in this one, and she’s spent most of her life in Adarlan, so we get to see a mix of someone who loves that land, who sees it as her own, but is also an outsider and is still, to an extent, getting introduced to the land. I think it’s an interesting way to introduce a new land, and Maas sort of did it with Terrasen in EoS, except the group in that book didn’t stay long enough to really get as good a feel of the land as we do in this one. I also think it’s a nice break from either a character has lived in land forever and has exactly zero reason to give us exposition, or a character is 100% new to the land/situation. Yrene is a new character if you haven’t read Blade. A healer from the Torre Cesme, she takes no one’s shit, not even Chaol’s. Actually, since her mother was burned alive by Adarlanian soldiers when she was 11, that makes her particularly unwilling to put up with Chaol’s shit. She hates Adarlanians the same way Aedion does, the same way all those other children of fallen kingdoms do. But she’s a healer and so she helps Chaol with his injury and unwittingly gets dragged into things. Based on who the Big Bad is in this one, though, I wonder if she wouldn’t’ve been dragged into things anyway. Yrene’s journey is for herself and for the rest of the world. She’s ready to go to the northern continent and heal people injured in the fight against Erawen, but she still has that simmering rage in her that started when her mother died. Her internal journey and arc is about repairing the hole her mother’s death made and cooling that rage until she realizes no one group is ever homogenous in its beliefs and actions. She’s healing and realizing this as she heals Chaol, which requires research. Unfortunately, her research sparks the interest of the Big Bad in this story, and that’s when the external struggle begins. Yrene has to contend with healing Chaol, healing herself, hunting for answers, and being hunted herself. Yrene has a connection to nearly everyone in the story. She’s a healer from the Torre, she’s actively healing Chaol, but she’s also a friend of the royals who rule over the Southern Continent. Yrene wants to help as many people as possible, and yet she also befriends royals and ends up in court schemes. One of the princes, Kashin, has a romantic interest in her, though she turned him down, and is protective over her. One of the princesses, Hasar, is Yrene’s friend and asks her to occasionally spy for her. It’s a complicated situation, and it goes to show the delicate precipice Yrene balances on. Hasar is the eldest princess, second oldest of the royal kids, and a nasty piece of work. She’s fiercely protective of the ones that are hers and over her country, but that just means she’s ruthless and cunning in other areas. She has no issue manipulating Chaol, Yrene, Nesryn, and others to get what she wants. This manipulation even includes backing Chaol into a corner where he has to swear Aelin would never do anything like burn Ellwye’s coast…which Chaol being Chaol can’t answer with a definitive ‘she’d never.’ Other stuff includes her using Yrene as a spy or threatening to block the Narrow Sea between the continents to prevent passage. I can’t tell if I like her or not, but I appreciate her character. Maas does a good job of depicting her as someone who cares deeply and will do anything to protect those she cares about. As a plus, Hasar is an openly gay, main side character, which is definite improvement for these books re: representation (I know we had Emrys and Malakai, but neither were ‘main side characters,’ nor were they together as much as Hasar and her lover, Renia, are). Sartaq, a rukhin rider and one of the princes, is another main side character. He spends most of the book with Nesryn in the mountains. I liked his character, he had a healthy dose of protective, relaxed, and funny rolled into one. I also liked the concept of his family in the palace being different than his hearth-family, or the family he has with the riders, and that the latter is far more relaxed and less vicious than the other. Sartaq wants to fly north, wants to do the right thing, but he also doesn’t want to go into it blind, which is part of the reason they end up seeking the Stygian Spiders to begin with. He’s definitely one of my favorite side characters in this book. That being said, it’s also pretty obvious that he’s mostly around to serve as a new love interest for Nesryn and to introduce the world of the rukhin riders…which is fine, but it would’ve been nice if he’d had a little more of his own development in the book. Hafiza is the Healer on High for the Torre, and she’s essentially Yrene’s adoptive mother. She teaches Yrene and helps guide her, but she also loves Yrene and genuinely wants her to succeed and stay safe. Like a mother, she even expresses disappointment when she feels Yrene is going against something she feels would strengthen Yrene. She was another funny character with a pretty dry sense of humor that I can definitely appreciate. I can’t entirely remember, but I hope we get to see more of her in KoA. Other side characters include Shen, a guard who lost part of his arm and had to have it replaced and is one of Chaol’s catalysts that makes him realize that if his wheelchair is a prison, then it’s a self-imposed one. The Khagan is someone we don’t see a lot of but holds a shit ton of sway over everything. Arghun is one of the princes and definitely the worst of the siblings, and he has no qualms undermining Chaol, Nesryn, and even Yrene at every turn. Kashin, who has already been mentioned, is really the one who gets Yrene researching, as he thinks there are already Valg in the Southern Continent. Below Sartaq, he’s my favorite prince simply because he’s open to what Chaol and Nesryn are saying, and he remains respectful to Yrene despite her rejection of him. Duva, is the now-youngest princess and doesn’t get a lot of page-time, but seems sweet enough. And then there’s Falkan, a shapeshifter from the northern continent who lost 20 years of his life to the Stygian Spiders. If he sounds familiar, he should, Celaena met him in Blade as well. In terms of the romance in the book….umm. When a character like Yrene, who hates Adarlan and Adarlanians, is going to end up with a character like Chaol, who is not only Adarlanian but an Adarlanian lord and ex-Captain of the Guard, there needs to be more build-up. They’re cute and sweet together, but the two (??) months that they got to know each other were not enough to overcome all of that enough to start a romance, in my opinion. It probably would’ve been better for them to get together in KoA, following a similar timeline to Celaena and Chaol, or even Aelin and Rowan. I like them together, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think it should’ve happened in this book. Nesryn and Sartaq make more sense to me, especially since they had a more obvious chemistry between the two of them. They complement each other really well in terms of attitude and respect for one another’s abilities—it will never not be funny to me when Nesryn blocks Sartaq from doing something and he gives her ‘an incredulous face’ or whatever. Despite their chemistry and the fact they liked each other, even if not romantically, from the get-go, Nesryn suggested they survive the war first and then see what happens. Obviously they’re going to get together, but at least the pretense of waiting a little longer is there….even if this is the couple I wanted to see formalize it in this book. Overall, good plot, characters, and world-building. The romance leaves something to be desired, but I think the rest of what happens and is revealed in the book more than make up for it…especially what’s revealed. The heartbreaking end chapter I could’ve done without, mostly because I had to then wait a year for KoA, but whatever.

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themachiavellianpig · 4 years

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Prodigal Son, Episode 11: Malcolm’s No-Good, Very Bad Day

Episode 11 of Prodigal Son and, good Lord, was this an episode worth waiting for.

Malcolm begins the episode metaphorically much were we left it - in the hands of a maniac - and geographically in an unknown location. Being hit hard enough to be knocked out isn't good for anyone, so it's probably no surprise that we start off with a little flashback/hallucination to a much younger Malcolm being reassured by Jessica that he is not a monster; he's a survivor.

As the episode proceeds, all we can do is hope that Jessica is right.

Full review and spoilers galore under the cut.

The story splits off into two separate threads - Malcolm trying to survive his imprisonment and torture at the hands of Paul Watkins, the Junkyard Killer, and the rest of the team desperately trying to find him in time.

Malcolm's interactions with Paul serve as a very good reminder of how good Malcolm is at his job, as he uses his knowledge of Paul to try to forge a connection or, at least, find a weak spot to exploit. The trouble comes from the fact that Paul knows more of Malcolm's story that Malcolm may of Paul's - particularly when it comes to their original meeting. Over the course of a significantly unsettling conversation, we learn that Paul did accompany Malcolm and Martin on a camping trip, and that Paul enjoyed his time "working with" Martin - I'm really hoping for some hints in later episodes as to how the discovery of the Junkyard Killer develops the story of the Surgeon. Maybe it could be the topic of Ainsley's next exclusive?

Interestingly, Paul declares himself to be finished with his previous mission of punishing the wicked, in favour of trying to convince Malcolm to take his father's place as Paul's co-murderer. Even though Malcolm makes the valid point that he's not a killer, Paul remains unworried - he wasn't a killer either until he passed "the trials".

Paul also indirectly confirms that the girl in the box was real and that she was killed on the camping trip which Malcolm can barely remember - but she wasn't the only one to suffer on that trip, as Paul himself was stabbed.

He was stabbed by none other than little Malcolm.

And, because turn-around is fair play in the world of serial killers, Malcolm gets stabbed as well.

Meanwhile, the NYPD and the FBI are doing all they can to find Malcolm. Paul's blind and furious grandmother refuses to do anything more helpful that sing creepy Old Testament hymns about the wicked being punished, so Gil gets Special Agent Swanson to agree to two very different, and equally questionable, lines of inquiry - Malcolm's mother and Malcolm's father.

Sidenote, but Swanson does explicitly say that she doesn't trust Jessica purely because she was married to the Surgeon - and while a certain degree of scepticism about Jessica's innocence or guilt may be understandable (I indulged in a little of it myself in the first half of the season), intending not to inform someone that their son has been kidnapped by a serial killer is a choice which I really want someone to call her out on at some point.

Gil, one way or another, gets permission to share some of the photos of John's childhood home with Jessica, in case she can remember anything about John or the camping trip which might help them locate Malcolm. It certainly shuts down her attempts to identify the Girl in the Box, at least in the short term.

(I also like that Gil clearly knows how Jessica got the picture of the bracelet, because he's not an idiot, and also how he is clearly not sharing that information with anyone else, because FBI doesn't deserve to know.)

We also get a brief glimpse into Ainsley's life; the interview with her father has benefitted her career in the way which she had hoped, and she's on her way to a meeting with some bigwigs about her next move when her mother summons her home for emotional support. Ainsley and Jessica's last conversation was hugely stressful for all involved, and for me watching it, but I couldn't help but notice that at least one thing that Jessica said in episode 10 seems to have stuck ("There are victims! Real ones! ...And why is the story never about them?"), because she wants to do the next feature on the victims, not the killer. I am very amused that Jessica using 911 as an emergency code fails - but the word please succeeded.

And then we get the interaction which I have been dying to see for quite some time now - Gil versus Martin.

Apparently an NYPD consultant being kidnapped by the Surgeon's former accomplice is a valid reason to yank someone out of solitary confinement, but Martin's time in solitary has scrambled his brains a lot more than maybe anyone was anticipating. Amusingly, Martin instantly knows that it was Malcolm, not the NYPD, who found Paul Watkins - although the news that Paul has taken Malcolm knocks him for six. So convinced is he that Malcolm is dead that he collapses. There are still plenty of questions still to be answered about Paul and Martin's partnership, and about how Paul evolved after Martin was arrested, but it's very interesting that Martin is so instantly convinced that Malcolm is dead - unlike the NYPD, who are clinging to the fact that Paul liked to hold his victims for some time before killing them. Is that a habit which he developed after Martin was out of his life - or does Martin simply know that the relationship between John and Malcolm was far more adversarial even before Malcolm started actively hunting him?

Either way, the strength of Martin's reaction to the news prompts medical intervention in the form of sedatives - which gives us all the joy of seeing a Martin Whitly who is not in full command of his faculties accuse Gil of trying to replace him in Jessica and Malcolm's lives. Apparently this is a notion which has been plaguing the bad Surgeon for quite some time. But even with his concerns, he can still be convinced to give up the location of the cabin from the camping trip - if only as a sign of faith in his own son's ability to stay alive.

Given the amount of time left on the clock, I was pretty certain that the cabin location was going to be a bust, but I was still on the edge of my seat as the show cut between JT and Dani on one side of a door and a madman with an axe on the other side. Different doors, of course, but a classic done well is always a lovely thing.

While the FBI, the NYPD and a whole host of other people with guns kick down the wrong door, Malcolm learns a little bit more about his camping trip - and his first serious assault, which was apparently in self-defenses, as the whole point of the camping trip was allegedly to kill Malcolm. Little Malcolm, who had seen too much and, apparently, been chloroformed to the point of it losing effectiveness, and who therefore was starting to remember too much.

It's a revelation which definitely takes Malcolm by surprise - and while it's something which he openly rejects when Paul first says it, it is something which he later accuses his 'father' (okay, fine, the stress-induced hallucination of his father) of attempting to do. Most telling of all, the hallucination of Martin openly admits to it. No matter what the truth was or is, in the moment, Malcolm truly believed that his father attempted to kill him - and will he ever really be able to believe any of Martin's denials?

Unfortunately, in the course of this particular argument, Malcolm reveals his ultimate motivations: "I protect my community and my family!"

And Paul, being not all that stupid, immediately zeroes in on the best way to hurt Malcolm: by hurting his family: "Sacrifice shall be your final trial. But don’t worry. It won’t be something you have to do, just something you have to endure."

Meanwhile, Ainsley is putting together some of the story for herself. The photos left by Gil almost immediately trigger a memory - the collection of angel statues in John's childhood home matches one which Ainsley was given as a child. Jessica brushes this aside as a present from Martin, but Ainsley disagrees - her imaginary friend, Mr Boots, gave it to her. The imaginary friend who she saw moving through the Whitly home, but thought was simply a ghost because he vanished in the basement.

And then, in a gorgeous piece of timing worthy of any high budget horror film, Jessica and Ainsley look around a corner to see John Watkins emerging from the secret room in their basement, axe first.

(Was this secret room where Martin killed his victims? How paranoid will Jessica be about that entire basement from now on? SO MANY QUESTIONS)

In the ensuing chase sequence, Jessica loses some points for stopping to fiddle with light switches, then immediately gains all those points back and then some for smashing John over the head with the first ceramic object to come to hand. She gets herself and an injured Ainsley upstairs in a bathroom, behind two locked doors, and barricades the door further with a dressing table. She is calm, collected, and absolutely bloody furious. Her attempts to reassure Ainsley are simply heartbreaking, talking about the headache Ainsley have in the morning, the illicit pills Jessica will offer, the simple declaration that they don't need anyone to save them even as John starts to chop through the door.

All she had was a pair of scissors, but I truly believe she would have made John pay dearly before the end.

Fortunately, it doesn't come to that. Malcolm, egged on by the hallucination of his father (I, as always, preferred the therapist), smashes his own hand with a hammer to get out of the cuffs and off he goes after John. He's been stabbed, concussed, and now just a little mutilated, so it's understandable that he avoids a straight-up confrontation, instead luring John back downstairs so he could freak him out with a open trunk and then blindside him with a crowbar - before locking him in the trunk.

The framing of the final confrontation made me wonder for a second if we were going to have to watch Malcolm become the killer he's always feared, probably as he brutally beat to death the man who had tried to kill his family. A potentially unsatisfying plotline would develop of Malcolm being tormented by his own dark side, or equating justifiable homicide with his father's sadism. Maybe even a hugely dull trial. But I didn't need to worry. As Jessica said in the opening scene, Malcolm isn't like his father. He's a survivor.

A survivor with a bit of a mean streak, given the way in which he effortlessly uses John's claustrophobia against him, but still. Not yet a killer.

The reunion with Jessica and Ainsley was adorable, and almost makes up for us not getting to see Malcolm reunite with his team - especially after they gave us cute flashbacks of Dani's developing friendship with Malcolm, and showed JT's obvious and understandable concern for the guy. Hopefully we'll get to see a little more of that in next week's episode.

Previous Prodigal Son reviews are available here.

Ainsley Whitly Character Profile available here.

#prodigal son #episode review #Episode Recap #tv review #Thomas Payne #bellamy young #michael sheen #Michael Raymond James #halston sage #themachiavellianpig watches

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justadram · 5 years

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Fic: Beach Week, pt 2

Part 1 here. Jon x Sansa

Beach Week: You drink. You hook up. So what if he’s your brother’s best friend?

Sansa spends a restless night twisting under the scratchy rental house sheets, rehashing two dozen memories she’s got stored up about Robb’s best friend and wondering if she’s been missing something for a while. Then it’s a distracted day, trying to go about her business and not look like she’s suddenly paying attention to every little thing Jon does. But she is, and she can’t help herself.

The sex is great.

Not something she ever expected to learn about Jon. Secondhand or firsthand. And yet, she has and she could, because Asha probably isn’t wrong about Jon being interested in her.

He’s got that fair skin like she does that gives everything away, when she catches him looking. Smiling back at him—To be encouraging? To make it not weird? At first, she’s not even sure—only makes the flush of his cheeks worse. But he’s kind of hot despite his embarrassment. Maybe he’s hot because of his embarrassment. Cocky self-assurance is a turn-off at this point.

Joff got embarrassed, but it made him scary angry rather than sweetly self-conscious; and Harry didn’t give a second thought to how people perceived him. Maybe sensitive is the way to go.

Sansa has a very active imagination. It’s from all the reading probably. Isn’t that what they used to say? Too many novels were bad for young girls? She’s got a lifetime worth of romantic scenarios just a daydream away, ready for the insertion of whatever guy she’s crushing on. Even though she’s known him all her life and that could make it weird, it doesn’t take a lot of mental gymnastics to picture herself and Jon. Actually, all the random details she knows about him, how familiar he is to her, how comfortable it usually is between them, makes it a lot easier to picture how it could be. Like Asha said, but in other ways too. Couple ways.

God, she’s really thinking about what it would be like to date Jon.

Or they could just hook up. That’s what Asha meant, and for once in her life she could be that girl. Unattached and fun and determined to get what she wants. Who cares that he’s her brother’s best friend? Before Beach Week is over, she wouldn’t mind testing out Asha’s glowing assessment, because Jon’s being interested—and not for the first time, come to think of it—is kind of hot.

“Hey,” she says, as she arranges herself on the floor next to him at dinner, cross-legged and balancing her paper plate in her lap.

Even if he’s worried about Robb, it probably wouldn’t take much to get him to break down and make a move. Not with the way he’s been looking at her. Just a little encouragement probably, which she happens to be pretty good at.

He’s got a mouth full of hamburger that he tries to swallow so as to respond, but she nudges him with her elbow and fills the silence with an innocently voiced question before he can finish. “Do you remember that time we went swimming in the Lannister’s pool, when they were out of town? You and me? And everyone?”

It occurred to her last night, when she couldn’t fall asleep. Had to be four years ago, because she’s pretty sure Jon and Robb were seniors. Her parents were out for the evening, and they were under strict directions to behave themselves. That would have included not climbing the neighbor’s fence. Definitely not swimming at midnight with music playing too loud. Normally, Sansa would have refused to join them—she might have even called her parents to tattle—but it was July and the water was warm, and she couldn’t fight the allure.

They were fooling around, playing some game Arya insisted on, when all Sansa wanted to do was float on the big white swan and stare up at the stars. But despite being terrible at the games her siblings liked, Sansa ended up tagging Jon in the deep end.

Their skin felt slick, sliding against each other, as she wrapped her arms triumphantly around his neck. It felt nice in a way she wasn’t expecting, and she remembers how she stared at him like he was something entirely new. It was the first time she felt the electric thrill, the jolt of want and toe-curling conceit from knowing someone wanted her. Testing that feeling wasn’t something she was ready for, but she liked the sensation of him hard against her hip and his arms circling her waist. It’s why she didn’t let go or scream in protest, like the flat line of his mouth indicated he was convinced she was about to, as she slid higher up his body with a shift of her grip.

No, she didn’t want him to turn loose at all and if they’d been alone, she would have been happy to cling to him like a starfish all night. But they weren’t alone—Robb was messing with the playlist and Arya was shouting about revising the rules she’d made up—and guys can only take so much. She knows that now. So, when he’d peeled her off with a mumbled apology, she stuck her tongue out and then commenced not speaking to him for three months.

She smiles around her fork. “That was fun.”

Yes, he almost chokes, which isn’t the sexy response she’s fishing for, but the way she flusters him makes her feel powerful.

“Is that right?” he finally manages.

“We should have more fun like that, don’t you think? It being Beach Week and everything.”

He looks away from her and back, as he sucks in a breath. “You’re trouble.”

“Am I?”

“I thought you were the good Stark.”

The way he narrows his eyes at her is almost playful. He can tease her if he likes. Messing around with Jon might be fun, despite the sullen pout.

No, the pout looks kissable, which is how she knows she’s going to kiss him tonight. What’s the harm in a kiss? More than a kiss if it’s really nice.

Except, it feels like he’s avoiding her when he disappears after dinner. She drinks one and a half beers, slowly to keep her head about her, before she sees him through the kitchen window. He’s out on the porch with his foot up on the rail, sitting with the half of the house not loudly playing beer pong. Somehow he got by her to get out there.

She grabs an extra beer to use as a friendly offering. If she goes out there and he gets up and runs, it’ll look weird. He’s as good as cornered.

Squeezing in between the array of occupied plastic chairs on the porch, two Solo cups held aloft, she makes to join the group, stepping over stretched out legs in barefoot relevé. There isn’t a chair left for her to curl up in with her legs tucked inside her sweatshirt, but being short a chair is part of her evolving plan.

His whole body visibly tenses, when she pauses before his chair, and he grips the arms as if he might stand. He doesn’t have cotillion manners, but as far as thoughtful gestures go, Jon’s a natural. He’s been sleeping on the couch in the living room and she has an actual bedroom she’s supposed to be sharing with absentee Jeyne, but if Sansa told him she needed to crash on the couch, he’d give it up without a second thought. He’s always been like that. He helped move her into her dorm freshman year, hulking boxes in the heat along with her dad and Robb with a lot less complaining about the amount of stuff she’d brought with her.

She extends the cup that’s full to the rim to keep him from getting up. “I got this for you.”

Their fingers brush, and he says thanks after looking from her to the cup and back again, while she stands there, pretending to drink. He lifts his beer slowly, as if he’s waiting for her to walk away, but that’s not going to happen.

Okay, it’s just a ratty band t-shirt, but his arms look really good in it. Whatever her thoughts on lacrosse at the moment, it does a body good. Seriously.

“You mind?” she asks, even as she’s toeing in between his spread legs and lowering herself onto his thigh. Casually. With a big, totally non-threatening smile. All teeth. Nothing flirty about it.

Asha snorts from her corner of the porch, but what’s potentially more awkward than Jon’s caustic friend’s presence is Sansa’s brother, who’s balanced on the rail and staring. He ignores her a good ninety percent of the time like any other older brother, but now his eyes are zeroed in on her, an interloper suddenly interfering with his friends. She twists in Jon’s lap and gives Robb the same innocuous smile. Just a bunch of friends. Hanging out. Talking about whatever it is they’re talking about. A few chairs short unfortunately. Nothing he needs to worry about.

She turns back and taps Jon’s cup with hers, a dorky little cheers that makes his mouth twitch. Friendly, friendly, friendly.

“What are we talking about?” she asks, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

“Um.” Jon clears his throat. “Lacrosse team stuff.”

Great.

Sansa wonders what Robb and Jon and the rest of them are going to talk about now that they’ve graduated, because it’s always team stuff, to which she has nothing to contribute. Not for lack of knowledge. Robb was captain this year; he deserved it, considering what he contributes on and off the field. Theon has a habit of taking too many chances on offense, but most of them pay off. Jon’s really good. Better than anyone gives him credit for, and she’d know, because she goes to every game. But with Harry also being on the team, it’s currently her least favorite subject.

“Yay,” she says flatly.

In her peripheral vision, she can see Robb screwing up the one side of his mouth, but whatever he makes of her plopping down in his best friend’s lap, his complaint is silenced, when Jeyne turns him back to her for a quick kiss. Either it’s just good timing or Jeyne thinks Sansa could use some help. Either way, she’ll take it.

Marg firmly believes what Sansa needs is a harmless hookup. Which feels a little chancy. Her ability to judge guys has been questionable at best, but she’s pretty sure Jon is a good guy. Like a real good guy. She’s probably safe with her brother’s best friend. He’s nice to her little siblings and her dad really likes him. He knows Robb would kill him anyway, and if he can be friends with Asha after, it’ll be cool between them.

Everyone except for Asha, who’s silently chain smoking, goes back to spiritedly recounting that win they managed in spite of Theon’s hand injury. They’ll probably end up talking through every play just like they did two nights ago, when this same exact story came up. No one cares about Robb’s little sister’s appearance on the porch or her chosen spot on it. Alcohol is great for creating invisibility in a crowd.

“So, what are you doing this summer?” she asks, steadying herself with a hand high on his thigh.

The muscle bunches beneath his jeans.

Since no one cares anymore, this time when she smiles, it’s not quite so innocent. The way Jon’s eyes skim over her, he can tell the difference.

“I’m, uh, starting my internship.” His voice has that raspy, bedroom quality that makes her press her lips together.

“At the veterinary hospital?” Jon’s always been really good with animals.

He nods.

“No camp this year?”

“Nope,” he says, pausing for a drink. “I’ll be around.”

It almost sounds like an offer.

It could just be passing interest on his part, and that would be fine. Perfect really for her purposes. She doesn’t need him to be violently in love with her. A little messing around, where she doesn’t have to pretend to be enjoying herself if she’s not, where she doesn’t owe the guy anything, would be perfect. But she hopes if it gets that far, it’ll be good; she really, really hopes so, because sex has always been kind of not so great and she’d rather it was for once.

“You helping out at the dance studio again?”

She didn’t think Jon had any idea how she spent her summers. “Yeah, I’ll be around too.”

That most definitely is an offer if he wants to take her up on it.

“Hold on,” he instructs.

Looping an arm around her middle to keep her from slipping off his lap, he shifts to pull his phone out from his back pocket. He sets it on the wide arm of the chair and sits back, dragging her squarely into his lap with a gentle tug.

The whole thing is kind of smooth. It’s definitely a maneuver, but it’s smoother than she would have thought Jon capable. Asha might have needed to make the first move for him, but Jon’s not entirely hopeless.

She lets her weight settle against his chest and pulls one leg up, toes curling over the edge of the chair. His eyes follow the bend of her leg.

“You cold?”

“A little,” she admits.

“You’ve got goosebumps.”

His right-hand spreads over her thigh. The goosebumps climb up the back of her neck, prickling along her scalp.

“Yeah, I think I’m done with this,” she says, setting her mostly full beer next to his on the arm of the chair. “Too cold. We need hot chocolate or something instead.”

“Like your mom makes,” he says, drumming his fingers against her skin.

He’s got good hands. Nice wrists. She thinks about those hands on her, in her, and her breath catches. There are like eight people on the porch, and she still wants to loop her fingers in his hair and drag his mouth against hers.

“Hey, man.”

Robb’s voice makes her jump, but for all of Jon’s embarrassment earlier, he doesn’t seem rattled by his friend, standing there with an arm around his girlfriend. Jon doesn’t even remove his hand from her thigh. It feels like it’ll leave a print if he does. Marked.

“What’s up?” he asks, sounding remarkably unaffected, just as all her calm cool is evaporating.

“So, we’re going to go play beer pong.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“You want to join?”

“I’m good. You?” Jon asks with a glance at her.

Sansa shakes her head. Jeyne winks at her, which makes her think it wasn’t just good timing a few minutes ago, but otherwise, they leave without anyone pointing out there are chairs available now that Sansa could easily occupy. Instead of Jon’s lap.

“You’re holding your breath,” Jon points out, as half the porch clears out.

“That was a little weird.” So much for her being the one to convince Jon that this was a good idea in spite of her brother.

“It’ll be okay,” he says with a pat to her leg that she feels like a shock in more sensitive places.

“He’s my brother.”

“Trust me,” he says, and she wants to, she almost does, looking into his grey eyes in all their dilated sincerity.

She always thought Jon was too serious. There are worse things to be.

Asha and the rest of them clamber over the rail and head down towards the beach. They’re alone, when his other hand slips just under the hem of her sweatshirt. She bites her lip at the inflating balloon feeling in her chest, as his thumb rubs over the skin above the waistband of her cutoffs.

“Hey,” he says, and she repeats it back just as quietly.

She wants to be the girl who just starts making out with the hot guy on the porch, but she’s not. Or she hasn’t ever been, and when Jon touches his forehead to hers, she knows with the racing of her heart that she won’t be tonight either. She needs to say at least one thing, so there’s no misunderstanding. She doesn’t want to come off badly, as bad as Harry.

“I broke up with Harry. I’m guessing you know that.”

“Yeah.” His fingers go taut on her thigh. “Yeah, I heard. You okay?”

Robb didn’t know about Harry and that girl—they’re on the same team but not really friends—so Jon probably didn’t know he was cheating either. If she launches into the whole sordid tale, he’ll probably sit and listen, but that’s not how she wants to spend tonight.

She nods, nose just brushing his. “I’m fine. I’m done with him.”

“I’m really fucking glad.”

Her answering smile is just blooming, when he presses his mouth to hers. He doesn’t have to say anything with how he kisses her. Happiness, affection, something raw and gentle all at once is pressed into each touch of his lips to hers. Yes, she’s been missing something and it was this.

She flattens her hand against his chest and scrunches his shirt in her fingers. His hand, warm and sure against her side, slides up as he gives her one soft kiss after another. Soft enough that she slips her hand into his hair to urge him closer to sate the feeling that’s coiling in her chest.

The ends of his hair, where it curls, are damp. That’s why he smells like clean guy—detergent and soap and deodorant. It’s a good smell. She breathes through her nose and her heart does something funny that makes her feel like she’s falling, as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Harder, deeper. Finally.

His tongue against hers drags a warmth from her that leaves her feeling limp and strung tight all at once. Their kisses taste like beer; she wonders what he’d taste like, kissing down his chest, lower, and the insistent press of his mouth is the only thing that muffles the noise she makes low in her throat. Desperation drives the rub of her legs together. He doubles it, moving his hand along her thigh until his hand fits to her body.

She gasps his name against his mouth, looking for some answer, some relief for her jumping nerves. Or just more of everything. His arm tightens against her back, and she’s arching into him, clinging, in a suddenly dizzy world.

A shrill wolf whistle cuts through her fuzzy headed arousal like a hot knife through butter. She pulls back, blinking in confusion. She wouldn’t even know where the sound came from, except he’s glaring at something beyond her shoulder, towards the beach. They’ve got an audience, she realizes, and her first instinct is to tuck her face into his neck.

He huffs, disturbing the fine hairs at her hairline. “I’m going to kill her.”

Just like that, his breath against her skin makes her restless again. If he kissed her there by her ear, she’d forget the spectacle they’ve created and indulge in a fresh one.

“Kill who?” she asks, though there’s only one possible answer.

“Asha. She thinks she’s fucking funny.”

She takes a deep breath, thankful for the cool air that crawls along her heated flesh. If she focuses on the chill, maybe she can regain some control. It’d probably be a good idea. If a bunch of drunks pile back in the house to cheerfully report what they’ve seen, her plans are going to be shot to hell.

He reaches up to stroke her hair, letting her sweatshirt fall back in place. “Sorry.”

“S’okay. I’m okay.” She traces the edge of his crew neck, where the skin is perfectly smooth. “I know she’s your friend, but she did say some really weird stuff to me about you.”

“Oh, Christ. I can only imagine.”

“Honestly, I don’t think so,” she says, disentangling herself to stand. She looks down at him in the warm porch light, as some misunderstanding causes his face to go protectively blank just as she holds out her hand to him. “But you should like get her a Starbucks gift card or something.”

Part 3

#jon x sansa #jonsa #got fic #fanfic #beach week

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fabien-euskadi · 5 years

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28 Questions Challenge

tagged by @thepurelands (thank you:)

Rules: Tag the person who tagged you, answer the questions, tag people

1. How tall are you?: 5 feet. Wait, was I supposed to mention the inches as well?

2. What color and style is your hair?: Dark brown, long(ish) and rather wild.

3. What color are your eyes?: Sad brown.

4. Do you wear glasses?: No

5. Do you wear braces?: No. And never did.

6. What is your fashion style?: A year ago, I decided to isolate myself from the world (especially, the humans). Being so, I moved to a farm on a valley, lost in a place so remote that a lot of people ask me if I even have electricity here. I did that to cure a severe depression and to reignite my writing sparkle... but, a year later, I am on the verge of suicide with zero lines written since I moved. I lost my contact with Humanity, I no longer see neither the good nor the bad side of human species. I am a shadow of what I used to be - I am a shadow of a being, I became a creature. Being so, I lost any fashion/style sense at all - but that is just until I get out of this horrible pit with wonderful views.

7. Full name: You will have to kill me to know that. But since none of you is a shooter, you'll have to call me Miguel, just Miguel.

8. When were you born?: This body was born a long time ago (before some of you did), but my soul may be even older - much, much older.

9. Where are you from and where do you live now? Actually, I was born in Lisbon and, after many unfortunate events, I ended up in a remote place in Upper Alentejo that few even know where it is - it's just a rural hamlet/place between Portugal and Spain. But soon, I shall be moving to some other place and I have no idea where I am going - and, somehow, that is strangely exciting. I hardly know where I am and I only know that I must go.

10. What school do you go to?: The FSHC of the Algarve University. Yes, college is in Faro and I live 350 km away from it.

11. What kind of student are you? One that is postponing all deadlines regarding his thesis, even if I have all the tools and the knowledge (and research) to do a good job. What is blocking me? Depression.

12. Do you like school? I liked some places where I studied and hated others. But I really like the Algarve University, I must admit. The same cannot be said about my previous college, ISCTE.

13. What are your favorite school subjects? Any subject can be either interesting or boring - basically, all depends on the teachers. During my masters course (in History and Heritage, btw), all seven subjects/lectures were truly amazing, fascinating, deeply challenging and that says a lot about my professors.

14. Favorite TV shows: What is a TV?

15. Favorite movies: If I had to choose just one, it would be "The Crow" - the original one, the one with Brandon Lee and with The Cure on the soundtrack.

16. Favorite books?: Again, if I have to choose just one, it has to be "Wuthering Heights", for being, basically, an epiphany for me.

17. Favorite pastime: I have no free time, to be honest. Being depressed means that I have a small amount of energy for all my tasks and that energy is clearly insufficient. Being so, when I am not just on my bed, agonizing, I am doing less stuff than I should and that means there is hardly any time left for hobbies. But even if I had time, depression would steal any pleasure I could have with them.

18. Do you have any regrets? I regret the last fifty years of my life (and I didn't live fifty years yet). I regret being born. And I may regret these two last sentences.

19. Dream job: Writer. Full stop.

20. Would you like to get married someday? Is there anyone insane to the point of marrying me? Even those who are addicted to pain, misery and suffering think that marrying me is beyond all the agony they can endure.

21. Would you like to have kids someday? That is something that requires the opinion of two people.

22: How many?: Again, that is something that requires the opinion of two people.

23: Do you like shopping? Hum... not really, although sometimes it can be therapeutic - when you go shopping, you try to please and improve yourself and, for someone with depression and a low self-esteem, that can be important. But since there is no mall around where I live…

24: What countries have you visited? Portugal and Spain do not count for this list and Morocco must be out of it as well, since I visited it when my mother was pregnant. Being so, I've been in France, Italy, United Kingdom, Germany, Netherlands, Luxembourg, Belgium, Malta, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Cape Verde, Tunisia and my beloved Egypt.

25. What’s the scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? Someone invented a way of making the ones who already went to greener pastures come back for a while and I decided to use that machine to make my grandfather return for a while. For a week, I had my grandfather again, although it was a rather ill, vaguely percipient and weak version of him - but I remained by his side all the time, absorbing every second of those extra days with him that were given me by science. Once the miraculous week was over, I realized I had to feel the devastating pain of letting him go again... but I didn't want to, I wasn’t ready to lose my grandpa once again, after losing him in 2004. But there was someone who, wisely, convinced me that I should let my grandfather rest, for he really needed to go, to go forever: my father. By the time I had this dream, my father had already passed as well - so, there I was, surrounded by those who are just a memory in the world of the living. This may not be scary… but, by the gods, it was one of the most painful sensations I had in my life, since it triggered me all the feelings, all the despair, all the pain of loss.

26. Do you have any enemies? I am my own enemy. I am the one who is actively trying to find ways of killing myself and I fear I may end up being successful.

27. Do you have a s/o?: That's the typical question of that unpleasant old aunt, that is always trying to do her best to make you feel like crap. Mind your own business, Aunt Doris.

28. Do you believe in miracles? If I survive the next few years, it will be a miracle. But, hey, one of my nicknames is Jesus.

Now, I shall tag... whoever wants to answer this. You are reading this? Consider yourself tagged.

#asks #personal #I am a strange being

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bigskydreaming · 6 years

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You know what I need more of in the X-franchise, Marvel? Above all else?

Official adoption narratives. Especially of older kids.

The X-Men’s greatest strength as a franchise is that they’re one of the ultimate examples of the found family trope. Practically every single one of them is all about finding bonds within the X-Men that they couldn’t in their biological family, if they even had one they’d ever known at all.

And because of the weird nature of time in comic books and how they want to keep characters relatively young forever, they tend to shy away from storylines that would provide an easy comparison for exactly how old certain characters are supposed to be, such as having kids. It’s not easy, narratively speaking, to keep kids young forever, and its a lot easier to be vague on whether an older X-character is meant to be early thirties or closer to forty than it is to be vague on whether their child is meant to be seven or thirteen. Which is why even when they do baby storylines, inevitably they use time travel or accelerated aging or something like that to turn the baby into a grown character like with Cable and then with Hope Summers and assorted other instances.

So even though most of the X-Men are now assumed to be in their late twenties to late thirties age wise, and with this reflected in their teacher-student dynamics with current teen characters, none of the X-Men have really ever started families of their own, outside of the occasional storyline where evil scientists or supervillains result in an X-character getting a teenage clone or already adult child. And of course not having children is a perfectly valid choice for any adult, be they single, a couple, and regardless of how family oriented they are or not. But it bugs when you know the only reason none of the X-Men are parents by this point is just because Marvel doesn’t like dealing with the issue of young kids skewing their timeline.

And it especially bugs when you consider that there’s an extremely viable, simple and obvious way to fill this void with a narrative that’s 100% in character for all the X-Men, and that could use waaaaaay more representation in media anyway.

LET. THE. X-MEN. ADOPT. KIDS.

Especially older ones, the ones too often written off as problem children and trouble makers or ‘too old to really help’. The ones so often treated in media as though they’re basically glorified houseguests, just there to be materially provided for until they’re eighteen. Like there’s a cut off point after which older kids can’t possibly still want not just a guardian but a PARENT, not just a mother or father figure, but someone who wants to BE their mom or dad. Like adults can’t possibly form a parent child bond as strong as any biological one if the child doesn’t come into their life before they’re a teenager, when they’re still a cute little adorable tyke.

Give me Bobby Drake encountering a gay trans mutant teenager whose parents kicked them out of the house. Bobby Drake, with his own experiences growing up in an emotionally abusive and neglectful home, who knows that this particular child needs more than just being brought to the school and getting lost in the crowd, that this child needs someone who says you deserve a parent who loves you and I want to be that parent. Because hell, every kid needs and deserves that of course, but something about the way Bobby connects with this kid right off the bat, like he just knows that what this kid needs, he can be and hey, maybe this kid is what he needs too. His love life has always been a disaster, but kids? He knows kids, hey everyone says he basically is a kid, but that’s never meant he doesn’t know how to be an adult when someone needs him to be. And hey, he’s spent the last fifteen years mastering the art of the embarrassing dad joke, no sense in letting that go to waste.

Give me Ororo Munroe adopting a STEM-loving black teenager with thick glasses and a habit of babbling when she’s nervous. Which is often at first, but gradually fades as she outright BLOSSOMS under the attention Storm showers her with, her insecurities nothing in the face of the knowledge that this legendary superhero, a woman who has been both a goddess and a queen, chose HER, looked at her when nobody else ever had and said this is her, this is the child of my heart. Whose excited ramblings about math and physics might seem an odd match for Storm at first, but really is just another way of connecting with and understanding the world around them. And Storm in turn, who never really liked being called either a goddess or a queen, but who basks in the memory of the first time her daughter called her ‘Mom.’ Who is so used to be treated reverently, but from a distance, by so many people who don’t get that nobody really wants to be considered majestic all the time, that the first time her daughter musters the confidence to tell her that for all her many talents, Storm is apparently terrible at making pancakes, all she can do is throw back her head and laugh in delight.

Give me Kurt meeting his daughter when he evacuates a burning building one teleport at a time, too exhausted by the end of it to be anything more than utterly unsurprised by the crowd keeping their usual distance thanks to his appearance. All except for one girl, standing apart from the rest, pointing at him almost reverently. “You have a tail, like me,” she says, awed.

Give me Rogue and Remy, who have always wanted a big family free of expectations or agendas, everything they wanted for themselves but never really got to have. Who’ve been nervous about starting a family for a long time, Rogue uncertain about having and raising a baby given how unpredictable her control over her powers can be, Remy uncertain about how good a father he’d be....until the day they take down what they thought was a new mutant crime ring. Turned out really to be a couple of older criminals exploiting a bunch of teen and younger mutant kids with a variety of obvious mutations that make it an unfortunately safe bet the foster system isn’t too invested in figuring out why they slipped through the cracks. There’s one who seems to be the oldest, despite the fact that he’s barely five feet of foul-mouthed, defiant fury, and he’s still more than willing to pit his malnourished frame against the two older intruders trying to mess with his ‘family’. Rogue and Remy look at each other and just know, and when the whole group arrives back at the school, various foster families the X-Men reached out to are all ready and eager to make sure each of the children has someone they feel comfortable around to go home with....no one all that surprised when the only ones the scowling young pipsqueak deems acceptable are Rogue and Remy themselves. Who are more than happy to comply.

Honestly, they’d have taken the whole group in if they could, but its one thing to want a big family and its another thing to....start off with a big family right off the bat with zero actual parenting experience. Still, they’re more than willing to host any of the others whenever their newly adopted son asks if one or two can come over. It’s obvious seeing for himself that they’re doing okay helps settle him, after feeling responsible for them for so long. And who could blame him....Rogue and Remy are more than a little attached to all the little scamps by this point, they certainly see enough of them, and there swiftly comes the day that they realize they’re more reluctant to see them go back home than even the kids themselves. Remy heads to the living room where his son is camped out in front of the TV, stands between the two until he’s forced to look up at the X-Man crossing his arms, eyes narrowed. “You’re a little con artist,” Remy accuses admiringly. The scoundrel smirks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was still here first though. I’m not sharing a room.”

Give me a LeBeau household that’s crowded and cramped and chaotic and messy and so full of love it’s like a physical punch to the face the second you open the door to the sound of several kids screaming at each other, full Defcon 5. It’s not always easy, and its not always nice. Sometimes older kids do have behavioral issues, because that’s what happens when someone’s been nothing but screwed over for most of their life. But the kind of choice Rogue and Remy made that first day isn’t really a choice, and its definitely not one they’d ever take back, so they weather the ups and downs and the good and the bad, anchoring themselves with the memory of themselves at those ages, and what they would’ve given for someone who didn’t want or need anything from them and would never give up on them, no matter how much they pushed them away.

And Remy, who for all he’s seen and done in his life, never got around to joining in most of the X-Men’s baseball games. Or, well, learning to play it, really. But dads should be able to play catch with their kids, he figures. Oh, he doesn’t think they’ll be like, horribly scarred or anything if they don’t, but, y’know. Might be nice. So he seeks out Bobby and Sam and Jean and various others for what should be a quick tutorial, except for the fact that Remy seems to be bizarrely untalented at this one specific thing. Meanwhile, one of the girls is very into pink dresses and French braids and all the things Rogue most decidedly is not, but if her daughter wants to be a pretty princess, Rogue is not going to be the reason her daughter can’t be a goddamn princess. So she rolls up the sleeves of her bomber jacket and marches off to Janet van Dyne’s, because if you gotta learn how to braid hair, where else would you go, she figures.

Except two weeks later and they’re up after midnight at the kitchen table, Rogue practicing on a damn doll and about to pull out her own hair while Remy scowls at the glove he’s trying to break in, finding the whole process to be utterly stupid. He looks over at Rogue, about to melt the doll’s head off with the power of her ire. “Trade ya?” He asks hopefully. “God yes,” Rogue groans. “Why didn’t we think of this weeks ago?”

Which results in the other girls joining their mother in terrorizing the other X-Men families at baseball, with yodeling battle cries and a complete and utter disdain for any of the actual rules of the game, while most of the boys flock to learning to braid hair from Remy and their sister. Their own hair tends to be too short to do much more than tie it off in the back with a short little pony tail. “I like that shade of pink,” Rogue says to one, of the ribbon used. He rolls his eyes. “It’s fuchsia, Mom.”

“Of course it is, sweetheart,” she says flatly, shooting Remy an exasperated look. He smirks, unrepentant.

Give me a legacy generation of adopted X-Men children who want nothing more than to grow up to be just like their parents, because they’re secure in the knowledge their parents want nothing more of them than to be happy. Who grow up not safe, because the mansion or school or wherever the X-Men are based will never truly be safe, but none of them were really safe to begin with, and at least now they’re happy and loved and they’ll take that over safe any day. Give me a next generation of X-Men who are as diverse and varied as the X-Men should’ve all been from the start, if not for an industry and audience mired in racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc....but a next generation of diverse new characters who benefit from close personal ties to the most iconic X-Men, giving them a potential profile and staying power most other newly created characters can never hope to match. Except in the cases of new characters who capitalize on exactly those kinds of close personal ties, like X-23.

You’ve been using the X-Men to provide narratives about surrogate parent figures for decades now, with Wolverine and Kitty and then Wolverine and Jubilee, with various other characters in a number of dynamics. But with rare exceptions of stories that ultimately only last for a short arc or two or else never get mentioned again, like with Dani and Elixir or Northstar and his daughter, there’s hardly ever any instances of actual adoption or X-characters not just establishing a close mentor or guardian bond, but an actual familial relationship. The only one I can really think of is Cable and Hope, and like....spoilers, so....yeah.

Anyway.

Marvel looooooves to play up the tragic home life backstory for most of its teen or new mutants, with their being a huge number of characters over the years who’ve either been orphaned or disowned or rejected by their families because they’re mutants.

And you expect me to believe that in all this time, not a single one of these X-Men has ever looked at one of these kids and said “you know what? You need a home, I can give you a home, let’s make this happen”?

Nope. Fake. Unrealistic. OOC.

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