#however he wasn’t an illusion and they thought that they just murdered their own father

[smilesrobotlover]

Do y’all think about how Four’s dad in the manga thought his son was dead and do you think about how Four thought he killed his father when they had to fight do you think about that or are you emotionally stable

#smiles rambles #I’m thinking about them #and it’s too sad for me bruh #i like the Japanese version of their fight with Dad more cuz #they thought he was an illusion #which is why they attacked him so #however he wasn’t an illusion and they thought that they just murdered their own father #it makes more sense character wise to me anyhow #Blue isn’t heartless but I don’t think he’d ever willingly kill his father #even if he didn’t want him to be used like that #I just like the illusion bit better #anyways #yeah Dad thought his son was dead #makes me depresso #even tho the manga didn’t show him depressed lol #i wish there were more moments between him and his kids #guess I gotta do that myself 🙄

[theneondemonx]

HOUDINI | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: jungkook was your first and only. When he got arrested, you felt like an idiot for always believing his every word and after a few years you decided to date again. But the word somehow got to his ears in jail and he couldn’t let you be anyone else’s but his.

▽ genre: porn with some plot, criminal au, established relationship

▽ pairings: escaped convict!jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 3464

▽ warnings: mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol abuse, mention of underage sex, criminal activities, implied murder, possessive behavior, mention of female masturbation, spanking, fingering, female ejaculation, overstimulation, oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk

( ➜ Drabble 1: first meeting ) [⏵playlist]

He hit me and it felt like a kiss He hit me and I knew he loved me If he didn't care for me I could have never made him mad But he hit me and I was glad

You were still very young when you learned that love was nothing like the cheesy romances you’d see on the big screen. Well, you didn’t actually have the money to go to the movies, but sometimes you found the way to sneak in and watch whatever was there to watch. You had a fascination for those stories, for those dancing images on the screen. They were made of pure light. Literally. While everyone was caught in the enchantment of the movie, you were the one to look behind your back and follow the light beam up until its source, looking straight at the small window from which the projector created the whole illusion of life before your eyes.

Most people want to escape from reality. They want to feel like their life has meaning, like it is just one plot twist away from being interesting. I didn’t. Maybe I should have, since mine was pretty shit. But I guess this was the whole reason why I was looking for the disenchantment. It’s like watching a magician. I’ve always been the type to be more observant, to look for the trick. Cause if there wasn’t any, then it would have meant that mine was the only pointless existence.

No one in your block had a penny to their names. Everyone dreamed of going away, of starting a new life and do something meaningful. But you knew that most of them would never make it. They were trapped.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

Those weren’t your words. They were Jungkook’s. Well, not his own words, actually. He had read them somewhere. He was the type to read, although he didn’t look like it at all. And you know how people who read are: they are good with words. They can shape reality with just a flick of their tongue. And damn if he got a way with words! That’s why you fell for him.

It wasn’t just the fact that he got the looks of an angel. He also talked like one. He could talk his way in and out of everything and you were pretty sure he could lie his way into heaven if he wanted to. He was an exceptional liar, a pathological one too. But you loved him anyway.

You believed him when he told you that he was going to turn your life upside down. Why wouldn’t you? He had already done it more times than you could count. He had done it since the day you first met in that dark movie theatre. You had always believed him and everything he said. He was the only man you ever loved, the first and the last you had sex with, and eventually the one you married.

He reminded you of your father. They had the same dangerous charm. Their eyes gleamed with the same light: that of a man who was willing to con the whole world and make it his own. Your father didn’t make it, though. He became a drunk mess and ended up in prison for attempted murder.

Only a pathetic fuck goes to jail for attempted murder. Either you go down for murder, or you don’t go down at all. That’s how much of a failure he was.

But you didn’t care about him. He used to beat your mother whenever he felt like it. Jungkook, on the other hand, never did that.

So, when he told you those words – “the less you know, the better” – you didn’t question him. You just believed him. And when he came home with a bag full of money and his hands covered in blood, you still didn’t question him. You just did as he asked and bent over the kitchen table to let him fuck you senseless.

You really didn’t care about what he did. Everyone in your block was somehow entangled with criminal activities. That’s just how it is when you can’t afford an honest life. What if he robbed a bank? What if he killed someone to get that money? So what? You’d love him anyway. You’d love him no matter what.

You still loved him when you heard the sirens wailing through the block and stop outside your shared house. You didn’t care about the fact that he just ripped your marriage into pieces. You always knew he was an Icarus.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be home for dinner.” He told you with a cocky smirk, while being pushed inside the police car.

And again, you believed him.

He was the only magician who ever managed to deceive you into thinking that his was actual magic and not just a trick. But when the jury found him guilty of aggravated robbery and murder, you felt like the lights had gone off and the curtain closed on his magic show. It was over. And now you were left standing in a sad empty circus, with just the distant music of the carousel to remind you of the fact that it was all a rouse. A convincing one for sure, but still a rouse.

When you saw him being taken away from the trial, you thought about those words he told you years before.

We think of the key, each in his prison. Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison.

And you smiled to yourself. Somehow, even though your whole life had just gone to pieces, you found them ironic. Who would have thought, back then, that he would end up in an actual prison? Not you for sure.

The years had passed and although you never really moved on from Jungkook, you decided it was time for you to build a life for yourself. You were still young and pretty, so it wasn’t hard for you to fool some stupid rich boy from the city. Kim Seokjin was no Jeon Jungkook, but he had money and a steady job – one that could actually pay for rent, food and vices without raising any question from the authorities.

He didn’t know you were broke as fuck, and you did your best to hide it with the means you had and the cunning that your lowlife background had teach you. You would buy fancy dresses and hide the tag when you wore them, so that you could return them the day after. You would also tell Seokjin to come pick you up at work in Gangnam. You never worked there, of course, but he was dumb enough to believe you. It didn’t really matter: you planned on sleeping with him soon enough and let him knock you up. Men always get way too excited when you tell them that they can fuck you without putting on a condom.

What you didn’t plan, however, was to find yourself with a tattooed hand covering your mouth when one night you came back home from a date with Seokjin. At first you tried to scream and free yourself from the strong grip of the mysterious man that somehow got into your house, but you froze as soon as he spoke.

“Shh be quiet, baby. You want to be the one to rat me out?”

You’d recognize that voice among millions. It was Jungkook.

How did he get out? His sentence is not over yet. He still has to serve twenty more years.

You thought that by being quiet and staying still, he would loosen the grip on you, but he didn’t.

“Fancy dress you got here, honey.” He hissed, pressing his lips against your ear and making you shiver from his touch. His hand trailed along the side of your body, caressing the expensive fabric of the white dress.

“Was your new boyfriend, the one who bought it for you?”

Your eyes widened at that question and you again tried to free yourself without success.

“Yeah.. I know. I was surprised too when Yoongi came to visit me and told me you were seeing some fancy city boy with his head up his tuxedo-covered ass.”

You knew that no matter how soft his voice could sound, he was mad. He was always calm when he was really mad.. until he wasn’t calm anymore.

“I told him: no, Yoongi, there’s no way that’s true. My sweet Y/N would never do something like that. She is a faithful wife, not some dirty whore who’s ready to sell her cunt to the first Richie Rich who comes around.”

He chuckled darkly.

“But he brought me the photos. So I guess I was wrong.”

He abruptly turned you around, pushing your back against the wall. It was then, that you saw him. His hair got longer and he somehow got some tattoos on his right arm. His dark eyes were gleaming in the dark with a mischievous light that you had never seen on him – not when he was looking at you, at least.

His fingers tightened around your jaw, forcing you to look at him straight in the eyes.

“Did you let him touch you?”

“N-no.” You muttered, with your heartbeat racing fast and your eyes wide open like those of an innocent doe who was just caught by a cold-blooded hunter.

He pressed his body on yours, breathing heavily against your lips without breaking eye contact.

“If you are lying to me.. I’ll know, Y/N.” He hissed. And you knew that those words were a clear warning.

“I expect your cunt to be tighter than it was when I left. If it isn’t..” he chuckled, slightly tilting his head to the side and licking his lips while caressing gently your reddened cheek. “..well, I guess I’ll stretch your holes so wide that there won’t be any doubt about whose little whore you are.”

He didn’t give you any time to breathe, let alone answer. He pressed his lips on yours with such passion that he sucked the air out of your lungs. And you melted.

You still loved him, after all. You still craved for his touch, which you missed every single night that you’ve spent in your empty bed. Every time you touched yourself, you always closed your eyes and think of him: his hands, his lips, his toned body, his cock, his breath, his smell.. everything. No man could turn you on like he did.

You could tell he had changed. He got more violent, more possessive. But for some reason, that didn’t bother you. Somehow, in a fucked up way, you enjoyed it. It was like you just had the proof that he truly loved you. That you were sill his.

You run your fingers through his hair, tightening your grip while kissing him deeply. A muffled sigh escaped from your lips when his tongue entered your mouth, exploring every corner of it like that was the last kiss he was ever gonna give you.

“Touch me.” You murmured, like it was a prayer sent straight to God.

The first one that was actually answered, since Jungkook’s hands quickly slipped under your dress while you kicked off your shoes. He turned you around again, face against the wall, and removed your underwear.

You gasped at his touch on your wet entrance, arching your back so that he could see your pussy in its full glory.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He murmured, starting to run his palm on your pussy.

You moaned, grinding against his hand in search of his touch while he steadied your hips with the strong grip of his free hand.

“Already purring like a kitten, baby?”

Another moan escaped from your lips, this time loudly, when he inserted his middle finger in your throbbing core, feeling it clench around his touch.

“Such a good girl. You didn’t lie to me.” He commented in a hiss, inserting another finger to test your tightness and starting to pump his digits on your most sensitive spot.

“So tight. Will you be able to take my cock, baby?”

“Y-yes. Yes I will.” You answered in between your heavy breaths and moans, chasing the pleasure that his movements gave you.

You suddenly let out a sharp cry when you felt his hand slapping your ass cheek without notice. But the lingering pain had the only effect of heightening the pleasure and getting you even more wet.

Hu chuckled, spanking you one more time.

“Fuck! Jungkook!”

He had always loved it when you said his name during sex, and he still did apparently, since he started pumping his digits harder inside you. The lewd sounds of your pussy soon filled the silence of the night.

When his other hand reached your clit and started drawing quick circles around it, your legs started shivering and your eyes rolled back from the pleasure. If it wasn’t for the wall, you’d probably fall on your knees when the orgasm hit you. You moaned so loud that you almost sounded like a dying animal.

“That’s it baby. Cum for me.”

His words only made it worse and you couldn’t help but feel like a fire ball hit you right in the belly. Your walls clenched around his pumping digits and soon your climax reached an unprecedented high, making you ejaculate on his hand while waves of pleasure went through your body like an electric shock.

“Oh my God!” Was is reaction to the mess you just made.

He let out a satisfied laugh, retracting his fingers from your overstimulated core just to smear your arousal on your own lips.

“Open your mouth, baby. I want you to taste yourself – the way I make you feel.”

You obeyed, and even if you were still panting and barely able to function, you took his fingers in you mouth, rotating your tongue around them and sucking every drop of your own arousal before letting them out with a pop.

“Good girl.” He praised you softly, caressing your hair. “Now get on your knees for me.”

Again, you obeyed without hesitation while he unzipped his pants and pumped himself a few times in front of your face.

You looked up at him, licking your lips. You could still taste your slick on them, but you wanted something different. You wanted his taste. And you were so eager to get it, that you didn’t waste any time.

You soon wrapped your mouth around his hard cock, sucking it like it was your last meal. But letting you have it your way was not Jungkook’s plan. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tying them up in a ponytail that was only held by his own hand, and started thrusting inside your mouth until tears were gathering at the corner of your eyes.

A deep growl escaped from his lips at the sight of your mouth stuffed with his cock and your messed up make up smeared all over your face.

“My little whore. Always so good for me.” He said through his panting, face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

And probably there wasn’t gonna be one. For all you knew, the police could come at any moment and take him back to his cell – this time, forever. But, if anything, the thrill just added something extra to the whole situation, making it even more exciting.

The rhythm of his deep thrusts against your throat soon made you gag. And that was it. That was what he wanted, what he was looking for.

“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

His cum shot straight down your throat, filling you with his warm liquid. You loved his taste. You always had since the first time he sucked his cock. You were only fifteen back then, and you had no idea how to do it. But he was older than you and he guided your every movement, teaching you what he liked and what he wanted. You thought you’d spit him out, but you always swallowed. You liked it. You liked the taste of his orgasm and you liked to know that you were the one to make him cum like that.

“Take off your dress and bra.”

Your jaw was still feeling numb and your legs weak when he ordered you to undress, but you still obeyed, in a daze.

“Now bend over the couch.”

Again, you didn’t raise any question. You just crawled towards the couch and rested your chest on the pillows, closing your eyes while you tried to catch your breath. You could feel your heart beating strong, muffled by the padded fabric of the couch. The only other sound was that of his steps, getting closer and closer to you until he dropped heavily on his knees, resting his large hands on your ass cheeks and parting them.

He let out a pleased moan and you could feel his gaze devouring the most intimate part of your body. You didn’t even need to look or feel him to know that he was getting hard again. And you felt proud. You arched your back and spread your legs a big wider, offering him the whole show. You loved to know that he wanted you so bad. Just the thought of his desire aroused you more than anything else.

He chuckled, spanking you again and making you gasp at the sharp feel of his palm against your sensitive skin.

“God, you’ve always loved being a slut for me. Am I right?”

You thought the question was rhetoric, so you didn’t respond. But when he gave you another spank and bent over you, pulling your hair to get your ear closer to his lips, you knew he wanted to hear your voice.

“Answer me. Whose little slut are you?”

“Y-yours, Jungkook. I’m your little slut.”

He chuckled darkly, letting go of your hair while caressing your reddened ass cheek and pressing his lips on your ear.

“Good girl.” He praised you, slowly starting to align the tip of his cock with your wet entrance.

You whimpered at the feel, arching your back even more to look for more friction. Seeing you like that, so eager to have him inside of you, was all it took for him to sink deep inside your core, filling you with all his length and stretching your walls.

“Fuck! You got so tight, baby.”

You did. While he was away, you didn’t have sex with anybody and you only started thinking about that when you met Seokjin. Not because you really wanted to, but because you felt like it was a necessary step to get what you wanted. Sure, Jin was handsome, but he was no Jungkook. Your husband, your first love, your first everything – he was the only one who could make you wet just by staring at you. He had that power – the power to make your head spin like you had too many drinks.

Jungkook hold your hips in place and started pounding you hard, making you moan at every thrust until you were just a hot wet mess at his mercy.

“Jungkook..” That was all you could say, breathless, while feeling your walls clench around his cock like they were holding to dear life.

He went balls deep inside of you, fucking you for all the times he didn’t in the past three years. It was intoxicating, and you knew you could never get enough of that feeling – of him.

“Jungkook.. cum inside me, please.” You whimpered, pleading him with a mere whisper when you felt his thrusts getting sloppier and more imprecise. Your orgasm was close too, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t pull out. You wanted to feel every drop of him.

“Y/N.. fuck!” Was all he said while he sank deep inside your core, filling you up with his cum and pumping it in to get you closer to your climax.

You came with his name on your lips and the lewd sounds of your sex filling your ears like the sweetest music you’d ever heard. Your hands grabbed the fabric of the couch and you could feel your saliva dripping down the side of your lips, parted by the intense sensation of your orgasm.

He dropped with his chest pressing on your back. You could feel his heavy breath against your skin and his heartbeat trying to get a calmer pace while the high of the climax was slowly fading away.

“We are leaving tonight, baby.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence. “I’m not going back to jail. I’m not gonna let them tear us apart again.”

And again, even after everything that had happened, you believed him.

I guess this is my prison. You are. But I don’t want to escape.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

“I love you too, baby.”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jk #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook criminal au #smut #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts criminal au #fanfic #oneshot #bts oneshot #bts x reader #criminal au

[robininthelabyrinth]

WRH/NMJ noncon/heavy dubcon. An AU of Three Gates? Something from Spoils of War? Something new? Go wild, just please make NMJ (and WRH) male-identifying. -🍡

ao3

War was like a game of weiqi – part strategy, part stubbornness, a little luck. Nie Mingjue could handle that.

Politics, though…politics was a game of people, mystifying and abstruse. Like a musical piece, like poetry, complex and conveying meaning that couldn’t be passed along any other way.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t good at people. Or music, or poetry – or politics.

If he was, if he had anyone he could genuinely rely on who was, he probably wouldn’t be here now.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were curved into a smile. Mocking, as always. He hadn’t taken anything or anyone seriously since the day Nie Mingjue’s father had died. “Welcome.”

Nie Mingjue pursed his lips and refused to answer.

“I see you didn’t bring your saber,” Wen Ruohan continued, and Nie Mingjue remained silent: of course he didn’t bring his saber. As if he would ever let a Nie saber enter Wen Ruohan’s hands ever again.

He might be straightforward to the point of bluntness, to the point of what some called stupidity.

But he learned.

Wen Ruohan chuckled, put down his drink – liquor, it looked like – and stood. As he did, the door slid shut behind Nie Mingjue’s back, cutting off all hope of escape.

As if there had been any hope to begin with.

“You look so petulant,” Wen Ruohan remarked, and he was coming closer. Nie Mingjue didn’t want him to come closer. “Like a concubine, playing hard to get, playing cute: reluctant, and yet willing. Ah, A-Jue –”

Nie Mingjue flinched involuntarily before Wen Ruohan’s outstretched hand could touch his cheek.

Wen Ruohan’s hand stopped.

“Still so reluctant,” he murmured. “So stubborn. Just like –”

His voice faded for a moment.

But only a moment.

“Surely,” he said, and the faintest smile curved his lips just as that familiar madness lit his eyes. “Surely after all these times, you know by now that you were meant for me?”

He meant their cultivation styles – their golden cores. For whatever reason, bad luck or inauspicious birth characters or otherwise, Nie Mingjue’s cultivation made him the perfect match for Wen Ruohan, and the other way around as well; when they cultivated together, the results were explosive, strengthening them both. Even just being in each other’s presence was enough to make them grow stronger.

Nie Mingjue avoided Wen Ruohan whenever possible.

Wen Ruohan, in contrast, saw Nie Mingjue as a gift from the heavens, meant just for him. Perhaps in some twisted way he really had been meant to be that, once.

If only Wen Ruohan hadn’t been too eager to claim his prize, and too ruthless in doing what he felt he had to in order to do so…

Perhaps.

Wen Ruohan moved his hand forward again, surer this time, and pressed it to Nie Mingjue’s cheek, the thumb running over his nose, cheeks, lips.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You grow more beautiful by the year.”

“You don’t need to ply me with pretty words,” Nie Mingjue said, and let his gaze drift into the distance over Wen Ruohan’s shoulder as if he could pretend he were anywhere but where he was.

Wen Ruohan chuckled. “Why not? Do you think you’ll be any less my lover if you deny it?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Oh yes.” Another chuckle. “I outmaneuvered you again. There’s something you can’t bring yourself to give up on, and so you come to me for mercy.”

Nie Mingjue’s lips twisted up in a sneer. “Mercy? Don’t put such a pretty face on it. You use politics to force me to the brink, then offer me a reprieve if only I make a whore of myself for you.”

“Mm, perhaps. And yet – you do.”

It was for Nie Mingjue’s sect that he did what he did, however shameful, he reminded himself. For his sect, for righteousness, for his brother’s future – for everything.

Wen Ruohan had all the power between them. He could play at whatever sham of affection he wanted, if he wanted, and Nie Mingjue could do nothing to stop him; nothing, that was, except refuse to indulge him in his illusions. In Wen Ruohan's imagined world where they were lovers, affectionate and true, and only touched each other for the sheer joy of doing so, rather than in a sordid bargain that shamed them both.

“I do,” Nie Mingjue said, and began to strip off his clothing. “How do you want me this time? Over the table? I prefer not to look at you.”

Wen Ruohan frowned a little – there were times, Nie Mingjue thought, that he seemed to simply not understand why Nie Mingjue was so reluctant, as if he should be able to just put aside his father’s murder, the destruction of his childhood, the constant torment – but eventually nodded.

Nie Mingjue finished stripping off and put himself on the table.

He wished he could pretend he wasn’t there, that this wasn’t happening to him, or at least that it was happening with someone, anyone else, but he knew better than to even try. Wen Ruohan would touch him gently and make sure he enjoyed it, forcing him to enjoy it, got him off without fail; he would whisper words in his ear that Nie Mingjue longed to hear from another person. Words of love, of affection, of pride – you did well and you can rest now, I’ll take care of you and believe in me.

The words stole beneath his skin and entered his heart like daggers.

“You want me,” Wen Ruohan whispered as he covered him. “You liket his.”

He could even almost make it true.

But when it was done, Nie Mingjue went home – cultivation stronger, body aching pleasantly, mind fogged with poisonous words – and he saw Baxia in her place, that shining death-curse that he loved more than his own soul, and he remembered once again that the only thing Wen Ruohan could ever give to him was help getting a little bit closer to death.

“Da-ge?” he heard behind him, and turned: it was Nie Huaisang, yawning. “You’re back late. You’re not going to go out to train now, are you?”

No. No, he wouldn’t, no matter how much he longed for the mindless exertion of exercise, the burn in his muscles wiping out the ache, the clean sweat overlying the mingled scent that came from his joining with Wen Ruohan. He wouldn’t, because he would never disgrace Baxia like that – would never wield her while Wen Ruohan’s seed ran down his thighs, while he still felt the imprint of his hands upon him.

“I’m going to take a bath,” Nie Mingjue said. “Shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Awww, da-ge –”

“Don’t you whine at me. One of us needs to be good at politics, and it’s obviously not going to be me. You’re more than clever enough, more than good enough at reading people…you'll do well, once you put your mind to it. When are you going to finally get around to doing that?”

“Oh, one day,” Nie Huaisang said, and Nie Mingjue loved his little brother in his carelessness, loved him in his arrogant ignorance, no matter what it cost him to keep Nie Huaisang that way. No matter that Nie Mingjue felt more and more like he left another piece of his soul behind every time he had to go to give himself to a man he despised, and who did not despise him in return. Nie Huaisang didn’t need to know what Nie Mingjue did for their sect, for their family, and as far as Nie Mingjue was concerned, he never would. “I’ll get there one day, da-ge. Don’t you worry.”

“See that you do,” Nie Mingjue said gruffly, and turned away. “See that you do.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ruohan #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #soulmate au

[plus-size-reader]

Breaking Protocol

Spencer Reid x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2151 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Spencer kept in touch with the daughter of a serial killer they took down. They think there's a copycat which brings them to her door once again

——————————————————————————————————

As a general rule, the BAU team didn’t keep in very much contact with the people they saved. The victims' families, or sometimes the victims themselves were kept at arm's length, due to protocol. 

However, protocol never said anything about the Unsub’s families. 

Your father, a gruesome and heinous serial killer, who murdered your mother along with seventeen other women had brought the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit to your door. 

It was your sparkling wit and kind eyes that kept one Dr.Spencer Reid there for far beyond when the case had ended. 

There was something special about you, something that Spencer recognized almost immediately, but the more he spoke to you, the more pain he found behind those kind eyes that drew him in. 

You were in constant pain, a constant pain that you couldn’t avoid. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw him there, the way they found him when you called the police. He was covered in blood, holding a knife, poised over her body. 

You didn’t even know her. You had never seen her before in your life, but there she was, lying dead on the kitchen floor. 

And yet, you remained as gentle as anyone could have been. It confused Spencer, and naturally he wanted to know what it was that made you that way. 

So he kept coming to visit you, even months after your father’s initial arrest. He just wanted to make sure you were okay, for whatever reason. 

It didn’t make any sense and he was painfully aware of that but it wasn’t something he had any control over. He cared about you and that was never going to change. 

...For whatever reason. 

At this point, you two didn’t speak much with Spencer only making monthly visits when he was in the area and calling at least once a week to check up on you. 

Until today. 

You had heard a few things here and there on the news, but you kept away from all that nasty stuff to avoid the nightmares. It was hard for someone with your past to ever really move on.

That had become clear to you but the point wasn’t that you were moving on, it was that you were doing your best. 

It was all you could do.

Though, all thoughts came falling away as soon as you heard that knock on your door. It was familiar and you couldn’t have mistaken it but that didn’t confuse you any less.

Spencer wasn’t supposed to be in the area for another week or so, but there was no one else who knocked that way. It was a signature of Reid’s so that you knew it was him. 

He liked to have a special thing between just the two of you. 

Not that it helped you in any way right now. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here for another week-” you started, swinging the door open without hesitation, only stopping when you realized Spencer wasn’t alone. 

In fact, he couldn’t have been farther from it. There were three men standing on your doorstep, each holding badges up to your screen with muted intentions. You had no idea what this was about, but it didn’t really matter. 

Knowing Spencer as well as you did, you knew it was only a matter of time before he filled you in with more detail than anyone could have ever needed. 

“Sorry, I should have called first” he shrugged, knowing that a heads up would have been nice but this whole thing had to be by the books and nothing was going to change that. 

Not even how much he cared about you. 

“Not a problem at all, what can I do for you?” you wondered, opening the door to them, letting them slip into your house without hesitation. Whatever it was they needed to talk about, you weren’t worried. 

Spencer had made it very clear that if there was any development in your father’s case or something changed, he was going to make sure you knew before anyone else. 

Even if it meant breaking protocol, which he did frequently where you were concerned. 

This was going to be a hard conversation to have, and Reid knew that, but luckily he knew you well enough to know that you could handle it. You were adults, and you weren’t living under some illusion over who your father was. 

You knew that he was a monster, and you also knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life rotting in prison. Still, having to relive the things he’d done was going to be had. 

After all, you were sure that you’d put that all behind you after he was locked up. 

“Y/N, we have to talk about your father” Spencer started, counting on Alvez to let him take the lead on this whole thing. They weren’t sure what exactly it was going on between the two of you, but they could tell you had a bond. 

It might have been odd, but if it could help them find whoever was committing these murderers, no one was about to stop him. 

“Why? Did something happen?” you asked, terrified that perhaps he’d gotten out or something had happened. It horrified you, but you knew well enough to keep calm. 

Whatever it was that was going on, you just had to trust that Spencer was going to take care of you. Besides, there was no way your dad had managed to get out of there. 

He had been locked in max security a few years ago and wasn’t ever getting out. That was what Spencer had assured you and that was what you needed to be the case. 

You had to make this work.

“Not exactly. There have been a series of murders following your father’s original schematic. All signs point to a-” 

“A copycat?” you filled in, fully aware that must have been what he was alluding to. It had always been a fear of yours, something you had talked to Spencer about a few times but you never thought it could actually happen. 

After all, what kind of person could actually idolize the monster you were forced to call family? You had always assumed that no one would be that sick, but clearly you were wrong. 

Someone had an interest in his brutality.

“Yeah, and I was hoping you could help me? No one knew him better than you, after all. If anyone could get inside his head, it would be you” Spencer informed, giving you that look he always did when you talked about the past. 

He didn’t like it. 

It hurt him to have to see you relive all those horrible memories, but it was just something you had to do. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t absolutely need your help, and you knew that. 

You knew that he needed you, and you weren’t about to turn your back on him. 

So, you nodded.

Whatever it was that Spencer needed you to do, you would be able to figure it out with him by your side. 

~ “Do you want to talk about it? Before I bring you into the bureau, I mean?” he asked, sitting down beside you at your dining room table, where you were staring out your kitchen window. 

You had been like that since the rest of the team left, content with the fact that Spencer was going to bring you to the BAU after having a brief conversation with you.

Though, it had become clear by that point that the conversation was going to be anything but brief. 

“Talk about what Spence? My dad and all those girls he murdered? The fact that somebody is taking a page out of his handbook? Or we could talk about the simple fact that even locked up, he’s ruining my life” 

Your words were a ramble at best but that didn’t make it any harder for Spencer to piece together what you were getting at. This was hard on you and no one knew that better than him.

You were completely different when your dad was around, even from behind bulletproof glass, and it was only natural that you tried to avoid all mention of him.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to let anything happen to you” he assured, reaching out to take your hand in his own, a strange gesture coming from him. Even with you, Spencer had never been too keen on that. 

Perhaps it would have been comforting, had you been worried about you. Though, you couldn’t have been worried about yourself at a time like this. You were really just having a hard time believing this. 

How was it possible that someone was going to do this? Of all the things your dad was, a role model wouldn’t even make the list. 

“I’m not worried about that Spencer, I’m worried about everybody else” you sighed, trying to rationalize why in the world they would even need you for all of this. 

Spencer knew your father’s M.O and case like the back of his hand, and probably better, after everything you had been through together and any information you had, Spencer had too. 

It was all locked up in his beautiful brain, and besides, it could be so dangerous for you two to be in the BAU together. After all, you didn’t know what kind of trouble Spencer could get into for keeping contact with you all this time. 

It may have been against some kind of rule or protocol for all you knew. 

“Tell me the truth Spencer, why do you want me to be part of this so bad?” you wondered, knowing that if it was just for information, they didn’t really need you. 

You just had a feeling that there had to be something more going on, and as well as you knew him, you knew better than to believe that Spencer could avoid the truth with you for that long. 

Not after all the time you two had spent together. 

“I think you may have something new to add-” he started, but you stopped him before he could get further into whatever he was going to say. You didn’t have to have to be a genius to know that he had some kind of ulterior motive. 

You just had to figure out what it was. 

“We both know you don’t need me for that Spencer. What is this really about?” you hummed, turning your attention away from the window completely. Whatever this was, there had to be some reason he was keeping it from you. 

After all, he had never kept anything from you before. Under the circumstances of which you two met, nothing else really seemed that important. 

This was the first time you had ever known Spencer to hesitate where the truth was concerned.  

...But eventually the truth came. 

“Fine. I want to keep you safe” 

It was nothing more than a whisper but you caught it just fine due to the close proximity between the two of you. Now, you were much less concerned with the copycat or anything else. 

Instead, you were focused on the emotion on Spencer’s face and the obvious distress there. 

Something was wrong, “If a copycat is deeply obsessed with your father, there is a good chance that they will want you or at least, victimize you” he warned, running his hands through his hair gingerly. 

He could hardly breathe just thinking about what could happen to you. Your father never went after you because you were off limits for him but he killed his victims that bore a strong resemblance to you. 

If your father killed surrogates in your place, there was no reason to think someone idolizing him wouldn’t go after you. They would lack the personal connection that kept your dad from hurting you. 

…And Spencer wasn’t about to let that happen. 

It made sense, but you also didn’t understand why he cared so much. Though, before you could tell him that you thought it was silly, you realized that the hold Spencer had on your hand had only tightened when talking about it. 

He was scared. 

Realizing that stopped all joking and teasing in their tracks, as you thought about it. Spencer genuinely believed that you were in danger and had interwoven you into the investigation to keep you under close watch. 

“Okay Spence. Let me pack a bag” you decided, before stepping away to grab a change of clothes and some of your essentials. If this was so important to him, it wouldn’t kill you to make him feel better. 

After all, it wasn’t every day that you saw Spencer that shook up. You just had to hope that staying with him for a few days would be enough to convince him that you weren’t in any danger. 

#spencer reid #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x ps reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x ps reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x plus size reader #criminal minds imagine #cm #cm x ps reader #cm x reader #cm x plus size reader #cm imagine

[mwolf0epsilon]

“Eps’s Notes on The Illusion of Living”

It's taken me nearly three months to get this done due to writer’s block kicking my sorry butt. But, as promised, here are my notes on the "Illusion of Living". Good god has this been painful… But I did have a lot of stuff I initially thought of Joey somewhat confirmed for me, and got a few extra interesting tidbits of info that I feel are very curious...

--{Key}--

Italics are my opinion

--{Key}--

--{Quick retelling of the book’s contents}--

    The Drews were among the more impoverished families in New Jersey, and Joey's father briefly worked in the silk industry to make end's meet before opening his own shoe store (that his mother oversaw profits for as the accountant). As such there were obvious limitations to a lot of Joey’s upbringing (like a lack of toys to entertain him with, and very few family vacations/trips that were memorable).

According to Joey, the shoes sold at his family’s store were primarily designed for people in the working class (clunky shoes and boots that would endure wear and tear rather than be flashy or comfortable to wear, which Joey complained never really fit him right), and had one singular design that was simply improved upon rather than any variety (I suppose the saying here would be “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke” but Joey really seemed to have some sort of issue with this, as he disliked his father’s works).

    Joey's mother was a hardworking housewife and the primary parent when it came to rearing her child. She educated and played with him more than his father, so Joey was much fonder and emotionally close to her than to him and, while Joey’s father wasn’t an absent parent by any means, he was definitely more engrossed in working to sustain the family.

This family dynamic definitely had some impact on Joey, especially since his mother got him interested in the art of storytelling in general, and he seemed to have a lot more respect for her than for his father. In fact he even had a few reservations regarding his father’s mental integrity when he discovered his talent for making voices in a rather odd manner.

It should be noted here that, while Joey's father was strong, he looked deceptively frail and wasn't considered a particularly brave man by any means. He was however regarded as a bit of an entrepreneur, and Joey was very concerned that he may not be sane (which was a bit of taboo at the time, considering treatment for mental health issues hadn’t advanced past lobotomies and other disturbing medical malpractices) because he talked and sang to himself in curious little voices while he worked. Curiously enough, while a patient and loving man, Joey's father wasn't aversed to cursing around his young son (although Joey himself doesn't seem to use crass language, even if it was normalized in the household). Another curious thing to note is that Joey greatly dislikes mud, and especially hated it as a child (alluding to his later obsessive cleanliness as an adult).

    Because of the financial issues his family suffered through, Joey didn't have a radio or many books growing up, and was thus more fond of Vaudevilles (specifically theatrical comedy, tragedy, and bizarre/surreal acts) which were pretty common in his city of birth. This interest for theatrics and third person story perspectives mixed terribly with later events in his life, like how at age 10 he witnessed a potential murder/suicide (Jesus christ...). Through this event he realized that there were different kinds of people in specific situations, especially when faced with the finality of death. Joey goes so far as to describe how theatrical the death was (Almost sounding disconnected from the reality of the situation as he noted that the crowd and even his own father seemed more like characters to him than real people). However, since Joey's neighborhood was ripe with strange people, he wasn't unfamiliar with bizarre events happening around him. Seeing a motorized ambulance was more amazing to a 10 year old him than actually caring for the death of a stranger at the front of his father's store.

    At age 12, Joey went to Coney Island for the first time, and the journey excited him greatly since he didn't get to leave home very often. The trip to Coney Island was magical in a sense, and later in life he hoped to replicate it in Bendyland to a more permanent degree (the trip back home ruptured the magical effect, which he didn't want to happen with Bendyland).

Joey has his own set of rules he plays by which he considers his life’s philosophy that he calls "The Illusion of Living". This was inspired by several events in his life, including his father passing the time by playing make believe (the Shoemaker and the Elves). This unique perception of what illusion and reality are (“the same thing”), seems to point to Joey having developed a dissociative personality disorder from a young age, which got progressively worse as he grew older. This in addition with the ADHD patterns he displays in his confusing rambling writing (and Joey rambles a LOT), and the almost OCD behaviour in regards to cleaning up after himself, indicates Joey lacked impulse control and was more prone to listening to intrusive thoughts.

Joey's view of reality was often confusing to others and he greatly enjoyed poking fun out of slowly getting them to his point of view. Conversations with Joey were thus quite frustrating to some, but no less curious to others that actually tried to understand what the “Illusion of Living” was about (Like Nathan). According to Joey, only a few people ever got close to understanding it.

    Joey enlisted to fight in the first war after he lied about his age (He was 15 years old, a year younger than the required age to enlist at the time). Out of all the positions in the army, he seemed most interested in comms, and considered himself more decent in communicating than actually fighting in the front lines.

It seems like Joey greatly enjoyed how he looked in uniform, and was also particularly finicky about his looks in general despite being in boot camp.

He made friends in the army, Private Donaldson and Private Eckhart, which Nathan (who worked at the tech lab that Joey later worked for) attests to being accurately described in the book. They were slightly older than Joey and were also interested in communication tech and shared his sense of humor. They also influenced Joey's social life, and tried to get him to date some gals that he wasn’t remotely interested in (the first indication that he may not be straight).

    Another close friend Joey had in the army was Lottie (a communications officer) and he used to "chaperone" her whenever the four went out to party. He seemed to have a considerable amount of respect for her (which is likely a result of growing up observing his mother, thus understanding that women were competent in positions where other men would scoff at the idea of them working at all). As such he was quite supportive of the War's “Hello Girls” (comms female officers). Interestingly enough this contradicts Joey's sexist persona that he seems to take on in Dream Come to Life (a mask that seems to be among many others he employs to fit in with the rest of society).

Lottie was his special gal pal in the platonic sense and, while he often ate alone to be left with his thoughts, she usually sought him out to talk to.

Joey only ever empathized with people he was close to, often reserving telling stories to comfort his friends specifically. It was the only way he could brighten their day (which later supposedly helped a disillusioned Lottie when she was sent to serve in London). What one could take away from Joey’s days as a soldier was that he was incredibly perceptive in terms of studying people. He easily recognized people’s handwriting, and was greatly fascinated by others’s personalities.

He could also easily charm people just from reading into what they might be interested in, and liked the thought of subliminally impressing others (which he later incorporated into his cartoons). It’s never mentioned, but Joey was likely honorably discharged since the war ended in 1918 and didn’t need to return to the service of the military when the second world war hit (keeping in mind Joey appears to have mobility issues later in life, he might have not been fit for field duty).

    At age 19 Joey ended up involved in investigating the murder case of Walter Richmond, a signal corps soldier Joey met briefly in his service days. The victim in question was responsible for documenting the war efforts, not being necessarily that great of a photographer, but taking a certain amount of pleasure in capturing the most viscerally gruesome pictures possible for shock value. How Joey got involved was a curious thing in of itself, since he didn’t know the victim all that well, nor cared to get to know him. Detective Adam Sinclair (a tall hulking man wearing the typical trenchcoat and fedora combo, who’s most noticeable features were his aged face and unshaven 5’o’clock shadow) tracked him down to his little minimalistic (and obsessively clean and tidy) apartment to question him. Joey was initially unsurprised that an ex-soldier ended up dead (not from the war, but likely ptsd), and was instead surprised that it was a murder case. He ended up inserting himself into the case as Sinclair’s shadow to help solve it. The reason was mostly out of self-interest, but his perspective did seem useful to the detective in the end. Throughout the investigation Joey displayed a few particular traits that indicate his attentive and peculiar nature, such as the way he reads others (their way of dressing and upkeep of posture), the manner of which he judges a good handshake, his distaste for smoking (which was taught to him via the idea that if something smells bad it’s usually bad for you) and drinking (he tries to be careful with alcohol intake in general, as he’s more accustomed to beer than drinks like champagne which one could over-indulge recklessly without noticing). Joey’s fascination for taboo subjects (war, violence, and death specifically) is also noted when he observes the victim’s photographic works.

This is a prevalent theme in an art gallery event where these particular subjects seemed to linger strongly in his mind, to the point where he noticed when one of the photos he recalls having seen before during his brief meeting with Richmond, appeared to be missing from the display. A detail that appeared to be dismissed by others, but of great interest to Sinclair.

    During this same gallery event, there was an incident set up by the murderer that involved a firecracker and a crowbar that set off a lot of panic. Joey’s work at the signal corps labs saved him from the brutality of the trenches, but he's apparently familiar with the effects of severe PTSD (And ironically notes that reliving the same painful event over and over again is his definition of true horror/personal hell).

It became very apparent to both Joey and Sinclair that the murderer was amongst them, and that this onslaught of panic was a message: That the murder of the frontline photographer was personal.

They did in fact come into contact with the perpetrator and, after a while of radio silence between Joey and Sinclair, the case was solved with...Minimal success. While Sinclair knew who killed Walter Richmond, he unfortunatelly did not have enough proof to convict her (the sister of a casualty of war that could have easily been saved, had Richmond not left him for dead because it fit his narrative of the war just fine), thus allowing her to get away with literal murder. Worse yet, the resolution of the case seemed to further disconnect Joey from reality and consequence. He gained a disdain for Adam Sinclair where once he’d respected him as an authority figure of sorts, finding that he’d accomplished his role and still failed miserably. In the end, the only thing to come out of teaming up with Sinclair was learning a social skill that Joey employed later on, by mirroring back certain aspects of a person so they’d be more comfortable around him. Otherwise the detective became nothing more than a distant memory. Unimportant in Joey’s later narrative.

    Two years later, Joey started working for a bookstore where he began satiating his vast hunger for knowledge, now that he had access to all sorts of books he could never afford as a child. Joey is fairly well read with an interest in various genres, although it was previously noted that during his army service people made fun of him for especially liking fictional novels. Joey being Joey however, wasn’t overly fussed about others’s opinions on what he sought enjoyment from, especially when it came to storytelling. Aside from getting his reading quota filled out, his bookstore job also helped him develop his salesperson skills through reading his customers. Through his experiences with his father’s shop and shadowing Sinclair, he had by now understood that people were highly superficial, and that he could apply whatever knowledge he gathered from them into how he sold his pitch to them. His charisma seemed to lure in customers.

    While working at the store he met Abby Lambert who he immediately noticed had an eye for art. Joey quickly became friends with her and seemed to greatly appreciate her no-nonsense attitude towards life in general, going so far as to respect her capabilities as a working lady where other men would be disdained with her difficult attitude. In fact, he wondered why anyone wouldn’t hire her to do a job she could clearly handle, just because she was a woman (again contradicting his sexist persona). As a connoisseur of the arts, Abby was the one to fully introduce Joey to her favourite craft. He especially took an interest in Impressionism and its influences.

Abby also supposedly introduced Henry to Joey, which the latter insists wasn’t really that remarkable of an event since Henry was “unimaginative” and “lacking in talent” due to his specialty in cartoon caricatures, and not the richer awe inspiring paintings Joey seemed to prefer (basically Joey spends any given time in the book trying to make Henry seem as insignificant as possible out of pure unadulterated pettiness, which physically pains me).

Ironically, in terms of entertainment, Joey later favoured cartoons as the more appealing form of films since most other mediums didn’t really spark his interest, even if the genres were ones he found fascinating (I suppose that despite films being works of fiction most times, Joey likely thought real life actors were far too limited in their acts due to the natural limitations of the human body).

Returning to Abby, her friendship seemed to be more impactful to Joey than most others. Like with how he preferred his mother’s company to his father’s, Abby seemed to be one of few people he actually felt comfortable around, to the point where her criticism didn’t bother him. She was also mindful of him, where she could recognize Joey’s “preferences” and made it a point to clarify to him that their outings were purely platonic so he wouldn’t get uncomfortable in those situations.

    Three years after meeting Abby and Henry, Joey became a manager at the bookstore and Henry began working there as well (by Joey’s suggestion it seems), and only then did they sort of start developing a meek little friendship of sorts (although Joey seems very dismissive about it and focuses primarily on Abby).

During that time, the idea to start his own business came about from two different events that happened that year. The first being his first ever theatrical script that he wrote and performed with Abby at a gallery event. During the performance of this little play (the theme of which was an angel and a demon discussing their role in influencing a mortal’s life), Joey discovered that he greatly enjoyed controlling situations and got way too into it (even considers what he could get away with in the name of entertainment, such as if he could act out actual violent or scandalous behaviours if he proclaimed it a part of the show).

The second event was his father sending him shoes once a year (which, because Joey disliked the make of his father’s shoes, he tried to get him to stop by pretending they weren’t arriving at his address or that they were getting stolen). As a means to ensure he got them, Joey's father started sending the packages to the bookstore. A doodle and writing on the package ended up inspiring Joey to create his own studio as he wanted to take flight in the entertainment industry.

    Having thus decided that he wanted to open up a film studio of some kind, Joey immediately set off to get himself a memorable mascot. He had a vague idea of what he needed and what might be appealing to an audience, but he wasn’t particularly skilled in character design and openly admitted to this. Abby, who was also not particularly good at drawing cartoons, understood that her more realistic style wouldn’t really help (or appeal to) Joey, so she enlisted Henry’s help. Knowing that Joey was a bit picky in regards to how he evaluated art, she thought perhaps she could persuade him to take a liking to Henry’s works (which he wasn’t particularly fond of, due to Henry mostly working with pen-drawings of cartoon characters and caricatures that looked very unremarkable to him) if he could only see him actually work his “magic”. Joey was reluctant to bring Henry into his business plan, but upon actually reaching a design within a few minutes (that took a few tries experimenting with animal and human features in more detailed and then simplified ways) of Joey giving some directions, he seemed to be sold on bringing Henry on board.

Henry designing the company mascot was thus the final push to open up Joey Drew Studios.

The two began their partnership not too long after, and from then on out things got interesting very quickly.

    The history behind the studio is...Not an easy one to validate in terms of whether or not Joey is sincere or even really knows certain dates (the more I look into the beginning of the book and the later exposition of information, the more I realized either Joey was starting to trip himself up on dates or his memory was visibly failing him). There are a lot of discrepancies in the dates provided, with some going back on how long Henry remained in the studio (even claiming to have at some point surrounded him with other animators and even a lead artist a year prior to his departure), when Sammy and Jack were hired (He says he hired Sammy in 1929 during the Wallstreet Crash, but later says he hired both him and Jack after the Wallstreet Crash), among other things... Joey Drew Studios was primarily funded by Mrs. Richmond (the mother of Walter Richmond), as Joey had forged friendships with the people involved in the case he’d helped Sinclair investigate (including the murderer whom he had grown to respect).

While other investors aren’t really brought up, it’s implied Nathan also had a hand in helping the studio taking off, as Joey often met up with him at the Russian Tearoom whenever he could. During these private meetings, Nathan would impart advice on Joey. Advice which he seemed to not care for, as he already had his own concerns at the time.

It seemed that his main plan was to acquire a talented and capable team to achieve his dream. A team Joey thought he wouldn’t need to "baby-sit", as he specifically wanted to hire individuals that were as studious and capable as he saw himself (curiously Joey mentions that Henry’s work ethic was exactly what he wanted, as Henry had never held work back or needed to be checked up on, which to Joey was an invaluable attribute).

For at least two years, the Bendy Cartoons were nothing but silence and sound effects (something we actually see in-game in BatIM Chapter One when the projector suddenly turns on and we hear nothing but the clicking of the projector and Joey’s whistling), which put them at a bit of a disadvantage when it came to competing with other animation studios.

This soon changed when Joey came across Sammy Lawrence and Jack Fain at a party he was attending on his 30th birthday (which he wasn’t celebrating, the party was a completely different event so supposedly Joey doesn’t care much for his own birthday).

He was already familiar with Sammy’s musical skills (mostly playing the piano quite masterfully), as he’d seen him perform at the theater when Sammy was still a teenager. Noticing him and Jack at the party was entirely accidental and was mostly due to the fact that, while Sammy was trying to keep out of the spotlight as he played, Jack’s showmanship shone through and caught Joey’s eye with how boisterous he was in their musical performance.

Joey approached them once their act was done and managed to convince them to work for him. Jack seemed to be immediately on board, while Sammy was a little more guarded in his agreement and immediately set up his stipulations for the job. This seemed to lean Joey’s interest towards Sammy (who Joey was unhealthily fascinated with because he was clearly not an easy man to control) more than Jack (who he likely considered too easy a read in terms of character, thus not much of a challenge to sway or condition).

     By 1933 Joey officially bought the entire building the studio was set up in (which up until then was occupied by other people seeking their own ventures). Expansion and new hires likely started a year or so later and continued on despite financial instability, and between 1941 and 1942 Joey was already starting to work out how he’d get Bendyland to be just as perfect and spectacular as he had always envisioned (which was difficult because he never really got it to feel just right in his eyes, and something felt off to him).

In between listing several different projects, vaguely describing an innovative techniques (Sillyvision which seems to be linked with the Golden Ink?), and even setting up his own 7 rules on how to animate to help set up a guide for aspiring animators, Joey slowly drifts away from the studio topic and finalizes his book rather abruptly.

He insinuates there’s a lot more for him to tell but little to no connection with the “Illusion of Living” philosophy and he’d rather focus on his actual physical work with the Studio than sit down and write further, so he finishes off on a rather...Vague note.

--{On Joey Drew}--

Year of Birth - 1901 (Day and month are never mentioned, but it's possible that his favouring of the autumnal season alludes to a fall month) Year of Death - ??? (Supposedly he's died, hence why Nathan claimed the Bendy IP) Birth City: Born and raised in Paterson "Silk City", New Jersey (Joey doesn't seem to have an accent, so he likely masks it, or made an effort to lose it). Physical Characteristics: As a child he used to have curly hair (Considering the era’s general fashion and style, it’s very likely that Joey either cut his hair too short to see the curls, or simply uses too much gel to seem more presentable) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Homosexual with Demiromantic subtones (Joey seems to be closed off in general, but more appreciative of the male figure. Could be interpreted as demisexual however, since Joey himself doesn't seem to like wasting time around people he doesn't have much of a bond with) Notes: Here are several notes I’ve compiled about Joey and his opinions on certain things and people. There’s a lot to look at as this man rambles like an old lady at a friday night bingo event, and thus I had a lot to take in!

Laughter is important to him.

Seems to be a dog person.

Likes Cheerios (yes this was a super necessary detail I had to jot down).

Considers having his ideas disclosed without permission to be disloyal.

Seems to have some sort of dissociative personality disorder (likely brought on by trauma or another undiagnosed mental disorder).

People-Watcher by nature.

Was taught by his father that the shoe makes the man (aka the art of studying people through their shoes).

Joey believes in the saying "The Truth is in the Pudding", a saying his mother often employed.

Never had enough money to own a pair of nice fitting shoes until he was 26.

Is narcissistically vain. Easily takes insult if people assume he can't look presentable.

His service in the army gave him experience with "experimental tech".

Enjoys music a lot, and he was considered a great dancer.

Finds modern feminine fashion standards appealing.

Disliked the way those with money romanticized lacking material gains. Found it personally disrespectful in a way, since he himself came from a poor family.

Seems appalled by too much color on one's wear (Joey is the goddamn fashion police).

Very picky about the arts.

Apparently disliked Henry's art style(???).

Lets people believe Henry is the creator of the toons, in an act of being holier than thou. (You lying son of a gun, stop lying to everyone and yourself whaddahell).

Joey's analogy of Henry starting a journey but Joey being the one to reap the benefits, is likely the truest thing he's said in this nightmare of a novel (boastful bastard...).

Thinks of Bendy as his firstborn, muse and messenger.

Took an art class with Abby (likely not a full art course, just a simple class to get the gist of it?).

Considers art the doorway to immortality.

Doesn't like post-mortem success (it frightens him, even). He'd rather be successful in his lifetime.

Admits to making mistakes, but not many. He also thinks mistakes don't need to be permanent.

Doesn't know what true rest is like, and is unsure if he'll ever be content enough to rest. On that same note he seems to really hate sitting still and his mind tends to wander, which he notes Nathan recognized with ease, even reserving a specific look for him (It’s the ADHD baby).

His friend Kyle was a lazy person and a gossip, which were traits Joey found annoying.

On their first meeting, Joey described having a desire to shove Sammy off a roof to see a more human reaction from him.

Assumes Jack is jealous of the attention he gives Sammy, or that the duo's relationship is strained, despite him barging into their lives out of the blue and making him feel like a third wheel.

Seems to think of himself as some sort of a messenger (going so far as to akin himself to the god, Mercury). His life’s mission is to help those who don't know they need to be helped (mostly through spreading happiness and laughter in such a dark and dreary era of human history). Bendyland is essentially Joey's means to fulfil this desire, as well as to chase his own need for a properly realized mixture of immersion and illusion.

He wanted Bendyland to be perfect, even the plot of land it might be built in needed to be perfect, so he inspected it himself with Nathan once he bought the deed.

Appears to refuse to call Bertrum by his proper name once he’s corrected the first time. Referring to him instead as either Bertie or Bert (toying with him perhaps? Testing boundaries?)

Doesn't drive. He instead hired a personal driver, Simmons.

For a little while he was living the American Dream, but thought of how he lived as less of a shared goal and more of a personal one (again setting himself apart from others).

His days were quite flexible and he seemed to despise set routines. He also doesn't like sleeping in. He liked to take a walk in central park early in the morning.

Joey used to make his rounds around the studio but the installation of the Ink Machine changed that habit a bit.

Nonchalantly notes that Shawn Flynn got a little defensive if he needed to be corrected on his work (OCD much, Joey? He was painting a lot of dolls by hand, slipups happen...).

He had priority meetings with Sammy, "meetings" with Jack (Sir what are these quotation marks for, are you snogging Jack while no one’s watching???), then met with the art department preceding the writing department, and finally he met with Grant Cohen in accounting to discuss finances and budget.

He had the final say in ALL paperwork regarding studio affairs.

Upon reading about it, found the concept of bringing in real animals to produce Disney's Bambi as funny, and joked about how trying to do so with Bendy and Boris would be chaotic.

Noted that Abby and Sammy were likely the only two people who closely understand the philosophy of the illusion of living, but not quite…

Was terrified of being misunderstood. Joey didn’t want to only be able to show half-truths, like a mirror reflecting the world darkly. Rather ironic considering he was quite deceitful in his adult life.

His desire for the world to love Bendy seems to be a projection of wanting to feel loved himself (quite honestly if one were to apply the theory of the id, ego and superego, it seems to me that Bendy is essentially Joey’s id, while Joey himself could be considered the Superego. The chameleonic social mask he wears is thus the ego. At the end of the day Bendy and Joey are and aren’t the same entity...).

Originally he didn't want to make a memoir (likely because he can't be direct and needs to work around the truth to fit him). It could also be that Joey didn’t want to linger on the past nor in death. He wasn't sure where it fit with his philosophy and thus tried not to explore too deep into it (existential dread?).

He wore custom tailored suits, and as of beginning writing TioL he had recently taken to wearing cravats (ever the vain man I suppose…).

Despite considering revisiting the past unnecessary, he couldn’t deny doing so if the time called for it. In fact, the Archives are Joey's memories of the past and he's sentimental enough to collect mementos of bygone eras.

Joey has trophies at home, the deeply personal things he couldn’t bare part with. Like the first sketch of Bendy, a napkin with the design of Bendyland, a letter from Henry, a ticket from a Vaudeville show, and his set of shoes he wore when he was surveying the plot of land where he planned to build Bendyland.

--{On Bendy}--

Notes: Here are a few notes I’ve compiled about the Little Devil Darling himself, and a few curiosities about his creation and the inspiration behind his character.

Bendy was officially created in 1928. According to Joey he was born of a dream, supposedly out of necessity, and he always had this idea of a little devil character doing mischief.

Bendy started off as a realistic little boy with a tail and horns (Abby’s attempt to bring to life Joey’s vague idea). Then, when Henry got involved, he became a cartoonish goat creature. The concepts were quickly worked out from a toony clothed amalgamation of both previous concepts, to a more intermediate design more closely resembling Bendy, and then finally, after Joey requested a simpler more shapely and less detailed toon, Bendy became the iconic  little imp clad in only gloves and bowtie.

Joey named him upon seeing the completed design. There are two origins for his name: That of Walter Benjamin Richmond, who’s nickname in life was “Bendy” (a rather morbid homage considering what happened to him), and the mere fact that in Joey’s eyes, his little cartoon imp “bent all the rules”. Henry seemed to appreciate the name.

Bendy is meant to be the devil on one’s shoulders, much like the devil in Joey’s first theatrical play. He is however, a lot more like a little kid playing pranks on people. He is also a sort of embodiment of both the population and human morality (society at its most flawed point, but also quite relatable).

Buster Keaton was an inspiration for Bendy’s many shenanigans and movements, which were always meant to be fluid and a bit bouncy.

--{On Henry Stein}--

Year of Birth - ??? (It’s never mentioned how old Henry is, but I assume he’s around the same age group as Abby, since they were friends and likely went to the same art course. It’s likely that he’s younger than Joey, but not likely by much.) Year of Death - 1963 (It’s not really confirmed if Henry died when he was put into the Cycle, as he doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about himself, but it’s safe to assume the process very likely involves human sacrifice). Birth City: ??? (Unknown, it could be that he was born and raised in New York but Henry lacks a noticeable accent) Physical Characteristics: Average looking? (Irrelevant, he could honestly look like anyone really...) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Presumably Heterosexual (He’s a married man in the 1930s-1960s, he’s either straight or hiding his sexuality, he seems to really like Linda however so could go either way really...) Notes: Here the few notes I could gather of the Henry info we got from TioL. It’s not much but its at least something to work with!

Henry is unremarkable appearance wise (to the point Joey forgot his face easily at first).

The way Henry dressed (mismatched and ill-fitted) indicates he likely grew up in poverty and likely only had hand-me-downs.

He mostly worked with pen-drawn cartoon character designs that were unremarkable but distinctly caricature-like (the Butcher Gang concepts were likely displayed in the gallery Joey attended, as noted by a comment he makes about them). Even if Joey apparently didn’t particularly like his style, Henry’s artwork was one of the final inspirations for the creation of Joey Drew Studios.

He is described as able to draw quite fast, great at taking directions, and as being a good animator. Overall Henry never really had any real need for someone to keep an eye on him which made him an exemplary worker.

According to Joey, Henry used to give pep-talks before he left the studio. This seemed to annoy Joey considerably for some reason (perhaps he was envious that Henry was generally a more likeable person).

Henry is remembered as forgettable, whereas Joey is flashier and more memorable.

Interestingly enough, Henry never claimed to own the design of Bendy, and was more interested in being business partners with Joey than starting a fuss about who owned the rights to Bendy’s creation (It’s very likely that he willingly gave Joey the design because Bendy was his character, and that instead the designs Joey did steal were that of Boris the Wolf, Alice Angel, and the Butcher Gang, the five other more notorious characters in the Bendy franchise).

--{On Abby Lambert}--

Year of Birth - ??? (It’s never mentioned how old Abby is, but I assume she’s around the same age group as Henry, since they were friends and likely went to the same art course. It’s likely that she’s younger than Joey, but not likely by much.) Year of Death - Possibly 1946 (Upon finally losing himself to the ink, Sammy seemed to have been actively hunting the Art Department and any stragglers that he encountered in the studio, so it can be assumed she died in the chaos) Birth City: ??? (Unknown but more likely to be born and raised in New York than Henry) Physical Characteristics: Frizzy hair, even when bobbed. Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Bisexual (She seemed to be acutely aware of Joey’s “peculiarities” so it’s possible she’s either a member of the LGBTQ community or perhaps an ally. Whatever the case it’s up for debate and interpretation.) Notes: Here are several notes I’ve compiled about Abby and some of her traits and mannerisms. There was surprisingly a lot more to work with than I expected.

She wasn’t really into the typical female fashion of the time. In fact, Abby wasn’t exactly fond of the typical mannerisms associated with women and was both notoriously rude and dressed herself in a “scandalously” modern manner (which is basically code for more practical less femenine clothing).

According to Joey, Abby is a very focused and determined person, which is why he admired her greatly. She didn’t know when to quit, however, and sometimes took things too far or involved others in situations or projects they didn’t want to be involved in.

She wasn’t very good at drawing original cartoon characters, and Joey was apparently not overly fond of her attempts at putting his ideas to paper due to her more realistic art style.

Abby was very insistent on Joey looking at Henry's works, even if he wasn't particularly interested in them (While it’s never said if she enjoys his art herself, it can be assumed she appreciates it enough that she’d want their mutual friend to see the potential Henry had).

She didn’t join the studio as the replacement Director of the Art Department until 1931, as during its founding she was still finishing art school. She and Henry never worked together. Despite this, she and Henry remained in touch even after he left for Pasadena.

--{On Sammy Lawrence}--

Year of Birth - ??? (From how Joey describes him, it can be assume Sammy was a teenager around either Joey’s early or late 20s before they officially met on Joey’s 30th birthday) Year of Death - 1946? (Sammy is one of few people who was turned without being killed first so it’s hard to tell if he’s really dead even within the Cycle since it’s a time loop...) Birth City: ??? (Sammy lacks a noticeable accent so it’s hard to tell where he’s from). Physical Characteristics: Has been described as bird-like and insect-like, with either brown or blond hair that’s kept longer than the typical fashion of the time (Not much more is known about his actual appearance but it can be assumed he’s either average sized or on the tall side considering his in-game height and build) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Biromantic with a lot of Demiromantic subtones. Possibly Asexual? (Again this is pure speculation on my part because he did seem interested in Susie but isn’t really a people person in general. Does seem to know how to reign in people tho, so ???) Notes: Here are a few curious notes I’ve compiled about Sammy, the circumstances behind his hiring, and how much control he actually had as the music director.

He has an unusual appearance that, while not necessarily described as ugly, was clearly outstanding enough that some people were put off (Buddy) and others thought him handsome (Susie). His hair is also described as messy.

Sammy is an avid smoker.

He was among a few other musicians employed by the theater to drown out projector sounds and match the mood in silent films. Because he was good at improvising music on the spot, Sammy was excellent at carrying the story presented on screen through his melodies, which was what caught Joey’s eye when he first saw Sammy perform.

Sammy also recognized Joey and didn’t believe his dismissal that he was a “town person”. In fact, Sammy pinpointed the recognition to the fact Joey was that one loner that sat in the front row of the theater he played at.

It becomes very apparent that Sammy is suspicious of people in general. The way he observes others indicates he’s had some sort of struggle growing up. As such, he’s not big on sustaining conversations and he managed to aggravate Joey slightly by the way he addressed him on their first proper meeting.

Sammy had a songbook he shared with Jack, meaning they had a strong trust bond, which is why he only agrees to work for Joey based on Jack’s willingness to also be hired. Even so, he immediately set up professional boundaries for his position. He hired his own people without Joey’s interference, and he only ever indulged him if Joey was being particularly exasperating.

It’s very likely that since Sammy was the one hiring who worked for the music department, that he was the one who hired Norman Polk. This theory is made stronger by the fact he immediately demanded a projector and projectionist booth so he could better do his job.

Despite his surly disposition, Sammy is a no nonsense sort who wants things done and over with, rather than sit around and stall. As such Joey considered him one of the best decisions he made in terms of career.

Funnily enough, because the band seemed to be skittish around Joey, Sammy specifically prohibited his presence in the music department unless they had a scheduled meeting. This likely meant Joey was scarcely ever seen in the music department so as to not aggravate Sammy in person.

Alice Angel’s bigger (and failed) presence in the franchise is likely a consequence of another one of Sammy’s stipulations upon being hired. He had immediately noted that if the studio wanted to go anywhere, they’d need a female character (Perhaps Sammy really believed what he told Susie due to despising Bendy and actually favouring Alice as a character).

--{On Jack Fain}--

Year of Birth - ??? (Possibly around the same age as Sammy or a little older?) Year of Death - ??? (He was gone long before a few other people in the studio, likely in the first few experiments Joey performed) Birth City: ??? (Hard to tell, he doesn’t have an easily identifiable accent). Physical Characteristics: Has been described as an atrocious dresser (This man likes wearing bright colors!) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Potentially Homosexual subtones (Not enough information provided to tell) Notes: Sadly lacking in the information department for Jack.

Jack is incredibly sociable and trusts easily. He's described as making bad jokes but laughing genuinely at them. His smiles are contagious.

Jack is an optimist sort who sees the good in any situation (even when being led around in a dark creepy room by a peculiar stranger).

--{On Bertrum Piedmont}--

Year of Birth - ??? (He was retired, so it’s likely he was around his 60s or early 70s when Joey first met him) Year of Death - ??? (It’s unknown when exactly he ended up in the Ink Machine but it’s very possible he was killed when all hell broke loose in the studio) Birth City: ??? (No clue). Physical Characteristics: Joey describes him (rather rudely) as a very portly man. Sexual/Romantic Preferences: ??? (No idea, chief...) Notes: Lacking in the information department like Jack, but what we get is a lot more substantial.

Bertrum was actually retired when Joey managed to get a hold of him. It took a bit of detective work on Mrs. Rodriguez's (Joey's secretary) part to actually find him as well, so he was not an easy man to get an appointment with.

His creative vision impressed Joey enough that the latter he ignored his apparent dislike for reminiscing so as to get him on board of the Bendyland project.

While discussing the Bendyland Project, Bertrum confidently jokes about it being quite the catch. He agrees to joining forces with Joey as long as he gets full creative control of the entire project. Although Joey agreed to this, he still managed to fight Bertrum on a few ideas, which annoyed him greatly.

It’s very likely that it didn’t take long for their initially friendly relationship to sour into open hostility on Bertrum’s part.

--{On Wally Franks}--

Year of Birth - ??? (No clue, but he was very likely in his late teens or early adult years when he was first hired as the studio Janitor) Year of Death - Supposedly still alive (I really do hope he got outta there like the letter insinuates...) Birth City: Brooklyn, New York. Physical Characteristics: ??? (All we know is he likely wears overalls and a sport’s cap) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Possibly Heterosexual (Unless the letter is a forgery, he apparently has a wife, kids and grandkids) Notes: I’ll admit I didn’t expect to get Wally lore, but here we are!

Wally's actually quite skilled with maintenance. He can tinker with the projectors, other machinery and even plumbing. His schedule is a little off however, but Joey turns a blind eye to it because he gets the job done without question.

--{On Allison Pendle}--

Year of Birth - ??? (No idea! But she was relatively well known when she was hired!) Year of Death - ??? (She was likely lured back to the studio after everything went down but before Henry) Birth City: ??? Physical Characteristics: She’s a beautiful tall blonde according to DCTL Sexual/Romantic Preferences: ??? (She and Thomas are married but I honestly have no clue how to feel about her, she’s a mystery to me.) Notes: Extra minimal Allison lore for your Allison Pendle lore needs.

She was a famous Broadway actress before joining the studio. Interestingly enough, Joey was the one to hire her to replace Susie, not only breaking Sammy’s stipulation on the matter but also stirring Susie into becoming resentful towards Sammy and actually trying to recover her former role at all costs (even her own life).

--{On Nathan Arch}--

Year of Birth - ??? (He was likely a little older than Joey since they were in the army at the same time but Joey lied about his age to enlist earlier) Year of Death - N/A (Still alive and kicking) Birth City: ??? Physical Characteristics: ??? (I guess Boswell Lotsabucks is sorta modeled after him so go off on that???) Sexual/Romantic Preferences: Heterosexual (He has a wife and son and doesn’t give me any other vibes besides and overall instinctual distrust) Notes: Oh boy...I do NOT trust this man...

Immediately upon beginning reading TioL you get the impression that Nathan is not only trying to appear friendly and trustworthy by referring to himself as Nate A, but also that he’s trying to cover for Joey and make him appear more personable to the reader. But to what gain exactly?

Nathan is, like Joey, very narcissistically vain, and is also writing a book of his own (an autobiography maybe?)

He’s a smoker and prefers cigars.

When Joey discusses his childhood, Nathan is unable to contradict or confirm anything as he noted that Joey was always very private about his origins.

Nathan seemed truly surprised and impressed with Joey’s ability to make up uncannily believable stories, even suspecting that his accounts of “Lottie” might have been false as he couldn’t find any of the supposed letters Joey sent her when he started working on republishing TioL (it’s likely he could see that Joey often lied to himself just as much as he lied to others).

It seemed to Nathan that Joey was rather oblivious of subtle compliments.

By the manner of which Nathan phrases it, he seems to think of Joey as a professional and kind man, capable of seeing the good in others. That said, Nathan remarks that Henry's departure was a great betrayal for his friend, and that the latter shouldn't have been so "gracious" and "forgiving" towards him…

When the studio began to struggle financially, Nathan worried that Joey might not be aware of the issue at all, or that perhaps he was lying to himself to cope. He also later notes that Joey’s memories seemed to have deteriorated in his old age. He was often mixing up information and seemed rather guilty, which Nathan considering to be very unbecoming of the man he knew Joey to be.

A lot of the deeply philosophical Joey and Nathan interactions seen in the book might actually have occured between Joey and Henry (the "I think therefore I am" conversation is an especially telling one for me), hence why Nathan doesn't recall them. It also seems more likely because they contradict the way Joey portrays Nathan, but seem to fit his portrayal of Henry better.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #The Illusion of Living #TIoL #Notes #Reference

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 13 - Better Man

Title: Irreverent Pt. 13 - Better Man Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: T (Teen) Words: 2214

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd spent the night thinking through the end of the case and the showdown with Dawson. You'd made peace with Hotch shooting Dawson - he had been trying to manipulate you, and you had to admit that without him taking the reins on confronting Dawson, you weren't sure how it would've ended. And that thought scared you. The next morning, when you woke up, you laid in bed and debated calling out sick. Hotch would totally see through it, but considering the circumstances he might just let it slide.

But no, Strauss was meeting with your father today and she had asked you to be there as well. At least you were invited this time. As you got dressed, your entire body felt heavy and unwilling to cooperate. By the time you were ready, you were already running late.

When you entered the office, everyone else was already there. You mumbled good mornings to them and went to grab coffee before settling in. "How're you doing, Y/N?" You looked up to see Spencer peering at you from across your desks, but both Derek and Emily were also obviously.

Before you could reply, you heard Hotch's voice. "Y/N, can you please come up here?" Hotch was calling to you from his office. He had his grey suit on today that he rarely wore and a nice blue tie that you couldn't recall having seen before. I wonder if he has a date. The thought infiltrated your mind as you entered his office and saw that Rossi was there as well.

"Hey, good morning Hotch. Rossi." You nodded to them both before taking a seat in the other chair across from Hotch that Rossi wasn't already occupying. That was more words and much more polite of a greeting than either of them had been expecting from you.

Hotch cleared his throat. "Strauss is on her way up with your father, Y/N," he explained. "Before he gets here, I want you to know that I am sorry that we were unable to get more information from Dawson, but it was an inevitable outcome." His voice was calm and steady. He wanted to make sure you understood and weren't about to create a scene.

"Hotch, I know. I - I know." You let out a large sigh and slumped back into the chair, feeling defeated. "I don't blame you. You don't have to apologize. I just - wish we could've pinned him with something."

"I know." He looked truly upset about the outcome as well.

Right then there was a knock on the door announcing Strauss's arrival. You turned and saw that she didn't wait for Hotch to invite her in, but instead strolled in like she owned the place. Your father was right behind her. Based on how smug he looked, you reckoned she'd already broken the news to him.

Both Hotch and Rossi stood, forcing you to stand as well.

"Agent Hotchner, David, good to see you again. Erin here has just filled me in. Job well done it seems." He had walked in and sat on the couch and Strauss came and sat by him. "Y/N, darling, Papa missed you."

You forced your mouth to turn upwards into what you hoped was a smile but from the expression on Rossi's face you couldn't be sure.

You all sat down, your back completely straight now, and your arms crossed across your chest. Hotch and Rossi started to debrief them on the case and filled them in on the takedown with Dawson - conveniently leaving out the part where they were investigating your father as well. Your father was sat on Hotch's couch with the ease and confidence of a man who could not be touched. It was enough to infuriate anyone. The pompous, manipulative, bastard.

As your father listened to Hotch's report, you could feel his eyes examining you. You kept looking at Hotch to see if he was almost finished yet and to avoid making extended eye contact with your father.

Finally Hotch finished the retelling. You couldn't wait for this to be over, so much so that you were already poised to leap out as soon as you father and Strauss left.

"Well then, I believe congratulations are in order. You have once again rid the world of some evil."

"Thank you, sir."

You thought that would be it and he would leave but he was still sitting. Not looking as though he was about to leave anytime soon. Too relaxed. What now?

"I understand the world just has too many of them." He was speaking deliberately. He was about to make some point for sure. "These…lecherous older men…preying on young girls."

There it was. The way his eyes roamed from you to Hotch as he said lecherous older men made you see red. How dare he imply that Hotch would ever - before you could contain yourself, you'd already spoken. "Don't."

"I'm sorry, what did you say mon cheri?" You father cocked his head to look at you with a pleased glint in his eyes. As though he hadn't just blatantly accused Hotch of looking at you in that disgusting manner.

"I said, don't." You had feared your voice might tremble but you were calm and clear. ou pushed up from your chair and moved towards him as you spoke.  "Don't suggest that he looks at me that way. You have no right to say that. Not here. Not in his office. Not ever!"

Strauss looked bewildered at your behavior, but he'd been expecting it. He had been poking to see where he could push and he'd found it.

And then he ignored you.

"Erin, it appears this case has obviously had some toll on my daughter. Perhaps the two of us can discuss the next items in your office."

Before you could say anything else, he'd opened the door and was leading Strauss out.

"Y/N." Hotch was at your side, his hand on your arm turning you to face him.

"Hotch, he had no right to say that! And don't you dare tell me otherwise."

Hotch looked to Rossi, unsure of what to say or how to proceed. The two of them watched you like you were a ticking bomb. Hotch couldn't believe you'd gone off like that in front of Strauss because of something your dad had insinuated about him. Who cared what that man thought? Hell, the way he'd found himself watching you on the jet on occasion, it wasn't even too far off the mark, not that he'd tell you that.

You were fuming. He was never going to leave you alone. Not unless you went nuclear. In a moment your mind was made up and you purposefully strode to the door, yanking it open. Hotch and Rossi were  hot on your heels as you briskly left his office. The movement upstairs had caught the team's attention as well in the bullpen and they watched the three of you walk one after the other across the top floor.

You quickly walked towards Strauss's office as Hotch tried to stop you. "Y/N, you don't want to do this."

He was wrong. You'd never wanted to do anything more. You didn't even bother knocking this time, just opening the door to Strauss's office and walking in to see your father seated across from her. "Chief Strauss, may I please have a moment alone with my father."

"Agent L/N," Strauss was furious. "I have tolerated your impertinence before, however this -."

"Erin," Rossi had reached the door right behind Hotch who had respectfully stayed outside. "Why don't the two of us go to my office for a moment and let L/N work out a quick family matter?"

She almost dismissed Rossi, but was convinced when your father nodded at her. The power this man held was absolutely absurd.

Breathing hard, you shut the door behind her as Rossi led Strauss away. Hotch was standing guard outside, showing no sign of leaving.

"Y/N," your father was still seated, looking as calm as ever. "What are you doing?"

"I know. I know about Julian," you spat out. "I know what you did."

His face immediately morphed into something unreadable as he processed what you said. "What exactly do you think I did?" His voice was a cold slither that warped your intestines.

"I know you murdered him," you trembled out, tears free flowing down your face now. "I read his journal. You threatened him. You terrorized him. Why?! Because he didn't follow your carefully laid out plan? Because he dared to go against you? How could you do that?! He's your son!"

He looked thunderstruck but did not refute your accusation. You were breathing really hard now and there was no way Hotch hadn't heard that. Hell, with Spencer's lipreading ability and the blinds of Strauss's office being wide open, you wouldn't be surprised if they all knew exactly what you'd said.

You turned away to wipe your face and saw Hotch's form standing outside still. He had positioned himself sideways and was looking straight ahead so as to offer you the illusion of privacy.

"What do you want?" His awful voice was too close now as he had risen to stand right behind you.

"I want you to leave. I want you to leave me and the BAU out of whatever you're planning," you said, attempting to speak as forcefully as you could, trying to mimic the way Hotch spoke to the worst Unsubs to establish dominance.

It was silent for a moment as you waited for him to respond. "You would turn against your father, your family, for this?!" He roared in your face, finally breaking. He was too close, forcing you to back up a couple steps. You stayed quiet and maintained eye contact. "Or, would you turn against me, for him - SSA Aaron Hotchner. Don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at him." His words burned.

"Do not ever think to compare yourself to Agent Hotchner again," you gritted out, your hands clenched by your side. "He is a better man and a better father than you could ever be. There is NO comparison."

His eyes blazed red angry and his hand moved up and hit you across the face with the full brunt of the rings he wore. Before you could react or even truly feel the pain, Hotch had barged in and put himself between the two of you. "You have just assaulted one of my agents. You will leave. Now." His voice was scary and direct, his jaw clenched tight.

They seemed to be in a battle of wills as your father tried to stare Hotch down, but Hotch maintained his position.

"She'll turn on you too one day. Remember that. Her only loyalty is to herself. I should know. I raised her," he spat out, before striding out of the office.

You turned to watch him go and saw that both Emily and Derek had made it half way up the stairs at some point. As your father made his way down, they refused to move, forcing him to squeeze past them.

Hotch was leading you to sit down in the chair your father had vacated, inspecting your face. You were starting to feel the pain of being hit forcefully by metal rings and struggled to stay still as his hands cupped your face and looked it over. "You're going to have some bruising and I'll get a bandage for the cut there, but you should make a full recovery."

"Oh god!" you breathed out. "You're trying to make a joke. The world really is ending." You tried to laugh but your face still hurt and you ended up making a pained face instead.

"You didn't have to say all that." His voice was soft and patient and you felt so safe there with him. He had of course heard everything you'd said through the door, and he couldn't pretend that he hadn't.

"Of course I did." You titled your head up to look at him, and the look in his eyes made you feel so incredibly safe. "And I meant every single word." Hotch just looked at you wordlessly, contemplating what you'd said.

As the rest of the team filtered in and started flustering over you, he kept looking at you. He couldn't believe you'd gone head to head with your father like that - over him. He couldn't believe someone like you could possibly have been raised by that man. You who always listened to Reid and made him feel like someone was truly listening to everything. You who had helped JJ realize how much she truly loved Will and how important it was to him that they were married, to the point that it should be just as important to her. You who stocked your home with all of Jack's favorite foods and always had his favorite beer in the fridge, at your home.

As he watched Emily carefully clean and then place a bandage on the cut at your temple, he felt more than longing for you. Much more. His chest felt heavy and he had to force his breathing to stay regulated at the force of his realization.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #irreverentseries #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotchner imagine #hotch x y/n

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Restricted Magic Arc 3 pt 8

On October 13th, 2018 I wrote a short story based on a Fictober challenge. That ended up turning into a 3 arc fantasy adventure story of Erin and Gerald, and my first ever long running series on this blog. Before that I had pretty much only done short stories. Unfortunately about a third of the way through the last arc, I hit major writer’s block, and abandoned the story. 

Until now. 

2 years later, I’m posting a new part. I won’t promise steady or frequent updates to this, but I am going to definitely try to finish this story. It was one of my favorites, and I want everyone to be able to enjoy it to the end with me. 

Masterpost is linked here. 

Arc 3 pt 7 linked here in case you want a quick refresher on where I left off.

Enjoy!

_____________________

“We’re running out of time.”

Elsinore whispered to herself, crossing her arms across her chest as she shivered with cold. Her fingers dug into her arms, the skin breaking along the tips of her nails. Rivulets of blood ran down, soaking the sleeve of her prison uniform, the pain of the injury dulled by her inner panic. Pacing back and forth around her cell, she stepped in the fluid dripping off her clothes, tracking red footprints on the well-worn floor.

The illusion of Sophia sat on her bed, watching her with a bored expression. “Pretty sure we have nothing but time, living contained in a cell like this.”

“SHUT UP!” Elsinore glared at her sister’s image. “You heard her! Erin is going to MERION!” She threw up her hands. “Merion! Why would she do this to me? I swore never to return there!”

“Is that what happened?” Sophia tapped a finger to her cheek, “Why do I seem to remember that you were banished?” She grinned, jumping to her feet and walking towards her. Her ghostly image tracked over the pooled blood without disturbing it. “But sure, you can pretend it was your choice to not return. Definitely not your punishment for betraying the country… and selling me to the Devil.”

Elsinore clutched her head, trying to ignore the voice of her dead sister, knowing it was her own illusion magic, her own delusion. “Roderick is planning something… why else would he bring her there of all places? No! We have to kill him before its too late!”

“Is that what you told my daughter?”

“She’s betrayed me.” Elsinore paced faster, her eyes wildly looking around the room. “She’s lost focus. So many years. So many sacrifices. And now she’s forgotten everything and abandoned me?!”

“You mean she’s finally looked to a future beyond killing her father? Wanting to survive, get married, have a life that’s about more than just one horrible man?”

“IT’S ABOUT AVENGING HER MOTHER’S MURDER!” Elsinore screamed at the figment of her imagination. “AVENGING YOUR DEATH! THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS!”

“Elsinore…”

“SHUT UP!” She waved a blood stained hand, unsure if the dripping fluid was real or not, her gaze focusing inwards. “I haven’t lost sight of the goal. If she won’t kill him.”

“Sister…”

“Then I will. “

There was a moment of tense silence, broken finally by the screams of the guards outside.

“Fire!”

“The whole building’s burning!”

“Here, this way!”

The door to her cell opened, several armed men ran in, their eyes wide, staring at nothing. Elsinore smiled, spreading her hands widely.

“Why thank you, gentlemen. You’ve served your purpose beautifully.”

The men looked at each other with confused expressions, that slowly changed into ones of horror as their minds fell prey to her magic.

“The witch escaped! Don’t think you can run away!” Facing off, they drew their weapons, each striking the other accurately, and slumping to the ground. Even as they died, their faces were confused, unsure of what was real and what was not.

“Illusion is so close to reality, isn’t it.” Elsinore chuckled, stepping over their quickly cooling bodies and walking out the door. “You really shouldn’t be fooled by such simple lies.”

“You’re one to talk!” The image of her dead sister snorted with laughter, but she ignored her.

“Let’s go.”

She walked down the hallway, her pace casual, unhurried as if she were walking in her own home on her way to tea rather than a bloody hellhole.

Along the way she was attacked several times. They never got near her, striking uselessly in the air as they were caught in her magic again and again. One man brushed passed her, and slumped with shock as she restricted his magic. He had time to scream in fear before dying under the confused attacks from his fellow guards.

The building was burning around her, the heat singing her hair as she passed by.

Elsinore passed by the bodies, the carnage, the destruction of her captors, and she quietly began to laugh.

“Sister…” The illusion of Sophia tried to reach out, but Elsinore could no longer hear her as her laughter grew louder and louder.

She walked out of the door, turning briefly to enjoy the sight of the government building that had been her prison going up in flames.

The fire burned brightly against the quickly darkening sky, the smoke filling the area. Elsinore watched it with fascination, unsure if it were truly burning or not. The guards had fired multiple blasts of flames, it was possible that one of them had begun it accidentally, destroying her former prison. But it could still be her illusion magic, Elsinore simply wasn’t sure.

Not that it mattered either way.

Beyond the crackle of the flames there were no other sounds, everyone else beside Elsinore was dead. She leaned her head back, taking a deep breath to calm herself as her laughter died out.

“Roderick… I’m coming for you.”

Finally he would pay for his sins.

Only then would she truly be free.

_____________________

Olivia and Frederick sat in the front car of the magical transport, each enjoying the trip in their own way.

Olivia was looking out the glass window, watching the scenery as the large metal locomotive moved forward, skimming across the sand as if it were as slick as ice. Resting her chin on one palm, she was a picture of calm. However, every once and a while she would shoot an annoyed glance further into the metal car where a banging noise could be heard.

“Frederick I swear, if you break this transport and we have to walk to Merion, I will destroy you.”

CLANG!

An even louder noise filled the small space, as if to mock her threatening words, and a grease-stained Frederick poked his head up from a small compartment in the floor where he had been happily working.

“Really, you will destroy me?” he grinned. “You and what army?”

Olivia studied her nails, ignoring his sarcasm. “It’s strange…I seem to remember during our last sparring session one of us being defeated… badly.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Like, so badly it was humiliating.”

“Ugh, please don’t…”

“I wonder who that was again?” Her grin was vicious.

Frederick glared. “Fine. Point taken. But keep in mind, I’m not breaking anything!”

“Really? That banging noise I heard was you just passively observing?”

“No, but all I’m doing is trying to get a closer look at this mechanism.” His eyes brightened. “It’s incredible to see a magical artifact like this, something so huge but it moves so smoothly!”

With one hand gesturing further down into the space below the floor, he continued to excitedly explain. “A level 5 earth artifact like this is the stuff dreams are made of. It actually combines several different magics involving the connection between the vehicle and the ground as well as speed adjustment, terrain variability…”

“STOP!” Olivia gave up. “It’s so boring. Please don’t make me listen to another hour long lecture on the wonders of artifacts!”

“This isn’t just an artifact!” He argued back. “This is a work of art!”

“Still boring.”

“How about we compromise? You listen to me gush about how awesome this artifact is, and in return, I’ll let you talk as long as you want about a topic you want.”

“Fashion.”

He winced at her immediate answer. “Really?”

“It’s that or we talk about the many horrifying and disgusting ways the human body can break down and how to fix them with healing magic.”

“…” Frederick sat their silently with a pained expression.

“Well?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking!” He gave a long sigh. ”Fine. Fashion it is.”

Olivia rubbed her hands together. “This will be fun!”

“Okay, but first I get to talk about this artifact.”

“Deal.” She stuck out her hand, which Frederick grasped and shook briefly.

“So, the first thing I love about the mechanism of this particular artifact…”

“Hey you guys!” Christopher interrupted Frederick’s impassioned words as he walked into the car with a pleasant smile. “Enjoying the trip so far?”

Frederick and Olivia didn’t turn to face him. Frederick looked back down at the hatch with a frown, while Olivia pulled out a filing board and began touching up her nails. Neither bothered to respond.

“It looks like you were studying the engine?” Christopher noticed the open hatch in the floor, his cheerful expression fading a little. “That could be very dangerous, I really wouldn’t advise that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Frederick snorted with laughter. “I know what I’m doing. If I want your opinion on something that you actually know something about, I’ll ask for it.” Rubbing his head with one hand, a trail of grease was left on his forehead.

Olivia pulled out a handkerchief, cleaning him off. “That’s bold of you, assuming he knows something about any topic.”

“Don’t be silly!” Frederick flinched at her scrubbing, but rolled his eyes and finished letting her clean off his face. “He knows a lot about a ton of different subjects!”

“Like what?”

“How about flirting with everything that moves like a dog in heat?”

She nodded solemnly. “You’re right! How could I have forgotten?”

“There’s also harp playing.”

“How about fiancé stealing?”

“Puppy murdering?”

“Hey!” Christopher broke into their back and forth with a frustrated groan. “I thought we had agreed to put that awful nickname behind us?”

Frederick nodded seriously. “You’re right. It was getting old. We need a new one anyways.”

“That’s not what I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m looking for Erin. Where is she?”

Olivia and Frederick glanced at each other, and then answered simultaneously.

“She died.”

“Who’s Erin?”

Christopher’s face was twitching, he seemed to force himself to hold a friendly expression.

“Guys, can you tone down the hostility? I’m her fiancé. It’s not like I’m trying to hurt her.”

“You think this is hostility?” Frederick laughed. “That’s cute.”

“I’m really a friendly guy once you get to know me.”

Olivia laughed. “Just keep telling yourself that, Kitten Killer.”

“Ooh I like the new nickname!” Frederick politely applauded.

“I thought the alliteration would give it a certain flair.”

“It certainly did.”

“WE’RE GETTING OFF TOPIC!” Christopher’s voice was raised. He paused, seemingly shocked at the crack in his normally impervious polite mask. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he continued in a more reasonable tone. “Look. I’m just asking a simple question. Do you know where Erin is, or not?”

Olivia stood up, her face grim. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while.” Her finger raised in the air, poking Christopher’s chest hard enough to force him to step back. “Erin is a better person then you or I will ever be. She’s my best friend in the whole world and I would crawl naked over broken glass before betraying her again. So no, I don’t know where she is, I will never know where she is.” She glared. “At least as far as you’re concerned.”

Christopher stared back at her, confused. “What do you mean again?”

“Olivia, you don���t have to tell him…” Frederick tried to interrupt, but Olivia quickly took over.

“No. He should understand this.” She turned back towards the golden haired young man with a frown. “I made a mistake. I let myself be used by Erin’s enemies. I used an artifact to steal other people’s powers and let her take the blame. I even kidnapped…”

“YOU USED WHAT?!” His earlier calm completely erased, Christopher reached out and grabbed Olivia’s shoulders, shaking her back and forth, silencing her. “You stole other’s powers, leeched their magic, and she FORGAVE you?” He snorted derisively, his face still red with rage. “Impossible. She must not have realized what you were doing! Otherwise she would have left you, there’s no way…”

BAM!

Frederick had moved, almost faster than the eye could follow, and pushed Christopher away from Olivia, slamming him back against the wall of the transport. His fist slammed against the wall, fire magic blazing around his fingers.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Frederick looked calm, but his eyes showed the anger just underneath the surface.

“What, no quippy jokes?” Christopher raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned by the burning fist mere inches away from his face. “How unlike you.”

“Just keep going in this direction, and I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

The young man sighed, looking tired. “Fine, fine, I can take a hint. I’ll go away. You can stop threatening to set my hair on fire.”

Frederick stepped away slowly, the flames around his hand sputtering out, and Christopher turned and left through the door towards the next car without another word.

“…” Olivia stepped forward, a complex expression on her face. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem.” Frederick shrugged with a grin. “It’s not your fault you’re so weak that you get bullied by everyone else… but it’s more fun if I’m the one who gets to do it.”

“…”

“Olivia?”

BAM!

“OW!”

_____________________

“You okay?” Gerald reached over from his seat across hers and held Erin’s hand between his own. They had grabbed their own passenger car after Frederick loudly complained about their public display of affection blunting his cynicism and hatred for the world. Erin had rolled her eyes at the time, but was now appreciating the space. The car was quiet, with only the low rumble of the engine moving the transport to break the silence.

She shrugged, staring out the window as the land raced past.

“I’m not sure what’s ahead, but worrying about it won’t change anything. We have to face it.”

“Hey at least the worst is behind us.” At his words, she turned to look at him incredulously.

“What do you mean?”

“EXAMS ARE OVER!” He pumped his fist in the air, a goofy smile on his face. “I’m so happy we survived.”

Erin sighed. “Even ignoring the fact that you somehow have placed exams as the worst thing after we have faced murderers, assassins and entire ARMIES together… you do realize we still have to take final exams at the end of the year before we can graduate?”

“…” Gerald stared at her, looking shocked.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

His only answer was a sad groan. Chuckling, Erin patted his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you prepare.”

“Well at least there’s that.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, both watching the scenery from the window.

“Gerald, I’m worried.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, taking comfort in his warmth.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m starting to lose control.” She rubbed her forehead. “It used to be easy to keep things hidden, keep things restricted, but now… It’s like something is unbalanced inside me. How many times have I destroyed whole buildings since we’ve returned?”

“I mean, I’m just saying, if your father and that brat of a fake fiancé would leave you alone you could stop rearranging the school architecture, …”

“Maybe it’s from using Aunt Elsinore’s magic for so long… maybe it’s something else. I don’t know…”

“Well maybe we can ask her… have you heard anything from Aunt Elsinore?” Gerald asked her quietly.

Erin shook her head. “No, not since our last conversation, even though I’ve tried several times to contact her.” Her hands curled into fists. “Do you think…”

“Think what?”

“Think my father got to her?” She closed her eyes. “She’s never been out of reach before… and now I worry…”

“Erin…”

“That she’ll end up just like my mother.”

“ERIN!” At Gerald’s shout her eyes sprang open. The window next to them was cracked, the seat around her torn to shreds. It looked as if a storm had raged in the tiny passenger cabin. Erin stared around her, feeling shocked.

“You see?” She reached out, gently touching the cracked glass. “Ever since we fought that army, even the artifact isn’t doing much anymore.”

Gerald sighed. “Your magic flows a lot more easily now then it ever did. With my level 5 Insight you glow like a sun. The amulet holds back less and less each day.”

“It was always supposed to be a temporary solution. But I need it to shield things for a little bit longer. A foreign country is not exactly the best place to confront my father.”

She sighed, placing her head in her hands. “I think he suspects my true powers already.”

“Well, I’ll contact my parents, ask my people to look into what’s happened to Aunt Elsinore.”

Erin smiled at his attempt to comfort her. “Really? It would make me feel a lot better to know she’s safe.”

“Of course! I’ll call them as soon as we arrive.” His head snapped up as he finished talking, seeming to sense something, as he turned towards the door of the cabin with a furious expression. 

“No need.”

The words were spoken quietly, barely audible within the passenger car, but the effect on Erin and Gerald was instantaneous.

She leapt to her feet, her face pale and angry, every muscle in her body tense and ready for a fight. Gerald also stood, putting his body partway between Erin and the new arrival, his posture clearly communicating an intent to protect as hers was to attack.

General Roderick smiled, the expression causing cold chills to run down Erin’s spine. “Sit down. We’re not going to fight here.”

Reluctantly, Gerald and Erin sat back, down, this time on the same side. Slowly, her father walked closer, sitting across from them, casually looking around, ignoring the increasingly tense atmosphere.

“What did you mean by ‘no need’?” Erin’s mind was racing as she thought back through their conversation. What had he overheard? How long had he been standing there?

Gerald squeezed her hand reassuringly beside her, and Erin calmed down slightly, with his insight there was no way her father could sneak up on them easily.

“Your inquiries after your aunt.” Roderick’s smile widened. “I’m afraid she’s no longer to be found in her government residence.”

“You mean her prison.”

He ignored her interruption, continuing. “She burnt the whole place down, killing all of my men.”

“…” Gerald and Erin stared at each other in shock.

“I assume you will see her soon enough, so need to waste the time looking for her.”

“What do you…?”

“She’ll be on her way to kill me.” Even as he discussed her aunt’s murderous intentions, he seemed… bored. “I expect her sometime in the next few weeks.”

Erin stood up again, struggling to hold in her magic as anger took hold. “You could be lying. She might be still imprisoned, injured, or…or dead…”

“Oh, Éirinne.” He threw back his head, laughing. The sound filled the room, filling her with unease. His eyes met her own and she nearly stepped back at the sense of danger. “I have no reason to lie. She means nothing to me. Her hatred, her desire for vengeance, mean even less to me than yours.”

At these words he turned to leave the room, almost running into Christopher.

“FINALLY! Erin, I’ve been looking for y…” The golden-eyed young man trailed off as he stopped in front Roderick. His face paling, he sketched an elaborate bow. “Pardon me, General.”

Her father frowned, stepping back away from him as if wary of being too close. “Be more careful in the future.”

With that, he was gone, and Erin could breathe once again.

“Well, at least you’re good for something!” Gerald grinned, although the expression was strained. “Driving away nuisances like General Roderick.”

Christopher shook his head, looking offended. “I didn’t drive him away! He was already leaving.” Hesitating, he took a step towards Erin, who stared impassively back at him.

“Erin, can we talk alo…”

“No.” Her answer was short, she turned away from him to face the window. Undeterred, Christopher stepped forward again.”

“I just need to…”

“I cannot tell you how very little I care for what you want or need to do.” Her gaze met his, and Erin didn’t bother to hide her rage. “Leave me alone, and you can still leave in one piece.”

“…” A silence came over the room. Gerald stood at Erin’s side, arms crossed. He didn’t comment but his posture made it clear he supported Erin’s words.  Finally, Christopher sighed.

“FINE.” He threw up his hands. “Just bury your head in the sand, try to pretend the world isn’t ending. I’m trying to save it, but you are so wrapped up in hating me, that you can’t see it!” His face for once did not hold his pleasant, masklike smile but a snarl of frustration. “You know what? Forget it! I’m tired of all of this. You can come crawling back to me when you regret it, and hopefully it won’t be too late. ”

He turned to walk out, but paused to say one last thing.

“How could you be so different from your mother?!”

And with that he was gone.

Erin felt her head spin, and unsteady, sat down, clutching the edge of the window for support. The seat cushion underneath her began tearing, the wood groaning under the strain as her poorly controlled magic bent it away from her. The spider web cracks deepened on the window, the frame warping around it.

“Erin, are you okay?!”

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Erin looked up at Gerald, trying to take deep breaths, to control her emotions, her magic.

“How does Christopher know my mother?”

#writing #restricted magic #i updated it! #not a huge update considering how much time has gone by #but if i don't get started somehow i never will #wish me luck #this doesn't mean i'm dropping please fix the story either #that's still the primary project #this is a passion piece that i'm determined to finish #fantasy #revenge #romance #arc 3

[tma-more-like-suffering]

How to Successfully Attempt Murder

starring, Elias Bouchard as the murder victim.

A/N: So even though this technically isn’t a reader insert, its still in second person because- uh- because I’m currently stuck writing in second person? Like, okay, I’m having fun, alright? Lemme be.

But hey. For everyone who has repressed feelings of anger towards one Jonah Magnus, this one’s for you.

-

"Hey Mel- oh. Are you... going somewhere?"

Melanie startles, almost dropping the cup of coffee she has clutched in one hand. You stop just shy of the kitchenette doorway, feeling awkward for have accidentally snuck up on her.

"Jesus- I didn't hear you coming at all."

"Yeah... sorry. What're you doing?"

"I'm-" her expression goes through a series of stages, each somehow more interpretive than the last, "I- I went out to get coffee, that's all. And I thought I'd bring some for Elias..."

You squint at her, suspicious, "Elias?"

You don't know how, but Melanie's expression remains completely smooth beside the slight twitch of her eye, "Yes."

"Riiiight." You know that she can probably tell you don’t believe her. Still, you gesture at the cup, "You're going up to deliver that to him, then?"

Melanie glances down at the beverage, "Ah- yeah." She pauses, seemingly thoughtful, before her eyes settle on you again, "D'you wanna come up with me?"

Frankly, Melanie is acting very suspiciously right now. You know for a fact that this isn't just her 'having' gotten Elias a coffee while she was out. But you don't quite know what she's actually up to, and you have a feeling that something is about to happen.

"Alright, I'll come with."

-

You're standing beside the door to Elias's office, falling just outside his line of sight. Melanie told you to wait out here as she delivered her 'coffee' but left the door ajar just so that the conversation inside can be easily overheard.

"-I assume you don't believe me, then? That murdering me would also kill you?"

You can only imagine what kind of look must be on Melanie's face, right about now, "I-I-I don't know what you're..."

Despite the topic of conversation, Elias sounds unnervingly calm. You're not even the one who’s tried to kill him and yet you still feel a twinge of annoyance, "Coffee is not as good for disguising tastes as you might think. And it's even worse at disguising texture. Dissolved pills always leave such a- hm- chalky residue."

Melanie bristles, "Look, Elias, I never-"

"I assume this is your first time attempting to poison someone." You silently shake your head. Poor Melanie, Elias doesn't even sound fazed, talking about an attempt on his life like he's just scolding her for coming into work late, "Do you actually know how many painkillers it takes to kill someone, or were you just hoping I'd take enough to get sick, and you could finish the job... manually?"

Melanie takes a deep breath, but even from here you can hear the fine tremor underneath it, "Why...? Why bother asking then? Why bother if you know everything?"

Elias chuckles, unperturbed, "I don't know everything, Melanie. Do you know how exhausting that would be?

"I'll tell you one thing I don't know," he continues, "and that's how to convince you that I'm trying to help. Honestly, you're one of the lucky ones. But not if we're all dead thanks to an... overzealous-" you wince, "-attempt at independence."

Melanie sounds like she's gearing up for a fight, like a toy with its key turned too many times, "I don't need you to-"

Elias interrupts, speaking with an infuriating condescendence, like he's just turning down Melanie's request for a promotion the third time this month, "Let's have no more clumsy assassination attempts, alright? And we'll say no more about it. Consider this your first warning." His voice swoops lower, quieter, dangerous, "Next time I shall have to escalate matters, and that won't be a pleasant process for anybody."

A pause for dramatics. "Understood?"

Melanie grits out her own assent, "Yes."

Melanie seems now to be a problem neatly taken care of and filed away, never to be considered again except maybe for his own occasional amusement. There's an audible smile in Elias's voice, "Good."

Next thing you know, Melanie storms out of the office and straight past you, looking too angry to have remembered that she left you standing there. You blankly watch her go, mind spinning in lazy circles while considering the conversation you overheard.

"Will you close the door before you leave, Alex?"

You don't bother to stop long enough in his office for a chat of your own.

-

It’s curious, really.

He said, 'I don't know everything. Do you know how exhausting that would be?'

He's some form of omniscient, that's for sure. Maybe like a maid working in a Victorian household, always on top of the gossip. Whether that be creating the gossip himself, or simply being the agent who spreads it, that depended on the time of day.

But he can't know everything, all the time. Because that would be too much.

Which means there are loopholes.

"Hey Rosie."

Little nosy Rosie looks up, smiling politely as you stop by to say hello. It's not a very comfortable smile, because anyone who's anyone knows to stay well away from the Archives and their staff. Not Rosie though, little Rosie has quite the fine palette for juicy bits of gossip, reason why she bothers talking to the lot of you, "Hello Alex. Everything well in the Archives?"

You wave your hand dismissively, "We're getting along, I suppose. Lot of excitement with all that murder business, you know how it is."

There's that gleam in her eyes now, that 'oh, what's this?' gleam of curiosity, "Not quite, no. Listen, did I hear it straight that Jon's back? Even after being accused of murder?”

You shift, getting yourself comfortable leaning against Rosie's desk, "Well, they dropped the charges, right? Turns out they had it all wrong, Jon wasn't the one who took a pipe to some old man's head. I mean, look at him? D'you think he'd do it?"

Rosie squirms under your gaze, looking distinctly guilty, "I suppose not. He's a bit of an arse sometimes but- maybe not murder."

"Oh, it's all right Rosie, if my body ever turns up dead you know where to look." You wink. Her lips quirk up in a smile. It's just a spot of joking you two are doing here, really. You turn your head then, just slightly, pretending to look around a bit when you spy a tea kettle boiling away in the corner. "Having a cuppa?"

"What?" She follows your gaze and startles, "Oh! No, no, that's for Mr. Bouchard. He takes his tea this time of day."

You make a low noise in the back of your throat, casually interested but not obviously, "That so. You deliver his tea all times of the day, then?"

Rosie gives you a bemused look, as if she suspects you're trying to turn your nose up on the fact that part of her job is to bring tea to her boss. "It's only twice a day. He's never broken from schedule, doesn't bother me for it otherwise."

You hum an empty agreement, "Seems like the kind of man to keep on schedule."

"I should get to that actually," She pushes away from her desk and starts to her feet, "The water's probably done."

"Yeah, alright." You push off of her desk, giving her nod as you wander over to the door of her office, "Nice chatting with you Rosie. You should come down to visit the Archives sometime."

The last thing you see is her indulgent smile, the kind you give someone when you're only putting up with them until they're gone. In this case specifically, it's a -I don’t want to get caught up in whatever goes down there in the Archives, no thank you- kind of smile.

Oh well. You got what you came for anyways.

It's rather easy after that.

A month of seeing neither hide nor hair of him, Jon comes back. He looks remarkably harried, and you don't think you'd have even noticed him coming into work had you not been in the reception area during that time. As such, you watch him rush straight past you and for the stairs, and you can make a guess for where he's headed with a single-minded focus like that. It seems like Elias has a lot to do with the nonsense that occurs down in the Archives, and people can't be happier having someone to blame.

You pop down in the Archives and tell Martin that Jon's back. He sighs in relief. Even before becoming scarce at his own workplace, it was always Martin that Jon kept the most contacts with, only to completely drop off the grid these last few weeks. Somewhere in the midst of your conversation Melanie comes marching in, a crazed look in her eye, and you know what she's planning too.

I mean, what better time than when the boss-bossman is distracted, eh?

An uncomfortable few seconds of watching Melanie stomp about before she leaves, the door closing behind her with a bang. Martin sighs tiredly and you know that he wishes she would just stop with all of this. These days, he’s more and more like a tired father of two toddler who has accepted his horrible lot in life, and yet still his children continue to insist on making it worse.

You give him a comforting little pat on the back. As far as you’re concerned, it's their loss if they insist on putting their heads in the lion's mouth.

Heading upstairs, you find Rosie's office empty. It must be if she’s settling the little dispute going on up in research. The kettle is however turned on, because Mr. Bouchard has always been a man of schedule.

It's easy, to slip in something into the water.

-

Elias can't know everything, all the time.

He knows he needs to keep an eye on his Archivist's development. The brunt of his gaze has always rested on Jon and it’s obvious that none of you Assistants can ever hope to stand in the same regard, not really.

Elias keeps an eye on Melanie. Melanie is unstable. She doesn't like her actions being controlled; she doesn't like being trapped here in this place. Never mind that she agreed to join the Institute on her own violation, it's her free will that matters to her now, or at least the illusion of it. Melanie is the kind of person who isn't afraid to fight for what she wants.

Elias keeps an eye on Tim too, though he pretends he doesn’t. It just makes sense. Tim is almost like Melanie, but he's been beaten down too much too soon, and won't take it out on Elias. His target is instead Jon, who seems to be at the center of most of his problems and is a much easiertarget. As long as that continues to be true, Tim is content on simply being indirectly snide towards Elias.

Elias doesn't really keep an eye on Martin. Oh, he knows that Martin is just as angry with him as any of others, but Martin has never been the kind of person to do anything about it.

Elias doesn't really keep an eye on you. You know what people think of you. That you're kind of an airhead. Always lost in your head, can't be bothered with the world outside it half the time. You're the kind of person that likes keeping their head down and quietly working away at your desk, and that hasn't much changed since... well, everything.

Nah. The murder thing isn't even on the top of your list. You'd just like some peace and quiet down here, for once. And, well, Elias seems to be the root of everyone's problems, including yours...

Still, there's no point in doing anything without at least enjoying the results. You researched extensively on what kind of poison to buy, taking into mind Elias’ oh-so-kind lecture to Melanie about picking your poison. It wouldn’t have done for him to taste something off about his tea the moment he took the first sip.

So, after exactly the time it would take for his tea to kick into effect, if you compensate for the time he would take to drink enough of it, you check in on Elias.

The first thing you see is the man collapsed onto his desk, eyes wide open and mouth frothing. The second you see is Jon, staring at the now dead body in front of him with surprise.

"Oh. It worked."

Jon's eyes snap toward you, "Wh- Alex? Did you do this?!"

You rub at your ears at the pitch of Jon's voice, an octave or two higher with hysteria, "I didn't know it'd work, you know?"

"You killed him!"

You shrug, slipping inside the room. "Sure." You can't be bothered to close the door behind you as cross over to the desk. Jon scampers out of his own seat, edging warily to the other side of the room. He can do whatever he wants as long as he doesn't call the cops immediately.

You check for a pulse on the body and find it missing.

From the furthest corner of the room, Jon stutters, "Y-you're insane."

You can't be bothered with an answer.

Fascinatingly enough though, Elias's eyes are still moving. They rove around wildly in his sockets, almost like they're the only way he can convey his surprise at being got. It's still unnatural though, and you have the strangest surety that it's an important detail.

Jon by this point has left the office, and you should really clean up here before someone comes in. Still, it almost feels like things aren't finished here. You have the strangest sense when it’s obvious that a story hasn't reached its conclusion.

You cast about the room and stop at the pen stand, holding fancy fountain pens that look like they cost more than your entire salary. You grab onto one, sliding the cap off by neatly jamming your thumb nail into the line where the cap meets the body of the pen, and look down contemplatively at the eyes that have stopped pinballing wildly, fixed on you. They almost look scared.

Well. This is going to get messy. At least you know that Melanie will be willing to help you clean up the body.

Tip of the pen poised; you get to work.

#original character #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #tma #the magnus archives #tma podcast #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #melanie king #elias bouchard #brief mention of eye trauma #murder #attempted murder #poisoning #my writing

[yourdeepestfathoms]

a snippet from my book, for y’all......

She was standing in a body-strewn field so deep she couldn’t see the ground, in the middle of the raging tide of war. She couldn’t remember which war this was exactly or why she was fighting it; at this point, there were too many to count. Everything looked the same, with the corpses piling like a second layer of earth beneath her feet, all of them mangled by the merciless jaws of death. But, this time, there was something slightly different about this battlefield, something far more sinister than what she was usually used to.

Athena looked around. Iron clashed against iron, steel sheared beneath the force of hammers, arrows sounded like whistling screams when they whizzed through the air; all of this seemed so very familiar to her, but something was terribly, terribly wrong. She looked down at herself. She was covered in blood.

Not all of it was red.

Just then, her legs were moving. Her spear was in her hands and it was stained a terrible crimson hue. Her footsteps crushed skulls and shattered ribs. She shouted for her fighters, but that was then she realized the soldiers she had been chasing after were wearing both navy blue and gold, and maroon and green. She couldn’t tell which coat of arms belonged to her allies, but it didn’t matter. Both were fleeing from her.

She was moving again. Her spear sank into the chest of a man, then ripped back out to slash the throat of another. They ran and she went after them with deranged agility.

After a while, it wasn’t nameless soldiers anymore. At one point, it was Ares, bowing beneath her blade, begging for mercy in a fearful voice she had never heard him use before. At another point, it was Aphrodite, staring up at her with eyes full of tears and ichor, her cheeks slashed open in an impossibly wide smile she couldn’t ever make go away. And at another point, it was Zeus, and his golden guts were strewn out all over the ground where the bodies of the other gods laid, broken and bloodied. She stared into her father’s eyes as she ripped out his heart and watched his life bleed out between her fingers.

The scene changed again, and though she was still warmed by the tender heat of fresh blood all over her body, she was no longer on a battlefield, rather a cliff beneath an olive tree, and the sight stretched out in front of her her was enough to make her wish she were one of the war-torn soldiers from the past illusion projected upon her restful mind.

Who would have thought that, among all the atrocities that she had committed inside and outside of war, this would be the one that Epiales, son of Nyx and god of nightmares, unleashed upon her? Not the hundreds slaughtered, not the unfair curses casted, not the homes destroyed or the innocent lives torn twain, but the ignorance of love because the scene set before her was one of Medusa standing at their favorite meeting spot, the black waves of Poseidon’s anger cracking beneath the cliff, holding a snake-wound spear in her hand.

Athena’s spear.

“I thought you said you stopped him,” Medusa whispered.

“I did!” Athena cried. “Medusa, I swear it to you, I did.”

“Then why…?”

“My father,” Athena’s words were coming out in gasps as she gulped air. “He took my form. He went behind my back and conspired with Perseus. It wasn’t me, Medusa.”

Medusa stared at her with flashing gold eyes. They were the same gold as Zeus’s guts. The same gold as Athena’s ichor.

“You say it was your father, and yet it was your own skin who went among my murderer,” Medusa said. “Regardless of who used your flesh, my blood is on your hands as much as it is theirs. Even more so than them. I thought you wished to protect me?”

“I did!” Athena’s voice was being reduced to a mere squeak in her throat.

“Then why?”

Athena did not know how to answer that, so instead she looked away. However, her gaze was redirected by four hairy appendages the color of night, and Medusa was now holding the spear to her neck.

“Look,” whispered the spider behind her, and she could feel its mandibles itch the back of her neck. “Witness your finest creation.”

Then, in a voice that sounded exactly like Pallas, it added, “She’ll be with us soon.”

Medusa wouldn’t blink as she stared at Athena. Her snakes weren’t moving. Poseidon and his fury had grown silent. All Athena could hear was the breathing of Arachne behind her ear.

“I thought you loved me,” Medusa rasped. She sounded as empty as Athena felt.

“I do,” Athena whimpered, tears running down her cheeks. One of the spider’s legs reached around to wipe the trail away.

“Do not cry,” it murmured, mandibles against her ear. “This will be thrilling. You are the finest artist, after all.”

When the haze of tears cleared slightly, Athena thought Medusa was smiling faintly.

“Owls eat snakes, do they not, wise one?”

And then, before Athena could think to do anything useful, Medusa took the spear to her throat and sliced off her head.

Athena awoke then, screaming, the cold sweat all over her body feeling more like blood and ichor.

#athena really do be going through it #this is from arc 4 and her segment alone takes up around fifty pages #her grief is Very Elaborate #medusa’s child #greek myth #greek mythology #my writing #lizzie’s dumb book #athena #ares #aphrodite #medusa #tw: gore #tw: death

[youre-killing-me-fandom]

Parkner week 2020 Day 1: future au

This trope was not my own idea. Also, this is my first time writing fanfiction so it’s probably terrible. All constructive criticism is welcome. 

..........................................................................................

The last thing Tony Stark remembered was the white-hot pain of the stones' power rushing through his body followed by the peaceful relief of feeling nothing as his surroundings slowly drifted away. 

Yet there he was, standing inside of a building that looked strangely similar to the Avengers Compound though at the same time, completely different.  

"Tony… you've been gone for over ten years…" said Pepper slowly with tears in her eyes. 

Tony's eyes widened in shock. "What year is it?" 

"2036"

Tony's mind had to take a second to process what he was hearing. He had been gone for thirteen years, which means Morgan should be almost eighteen, Peter 29, and Harley 30. His kids grew up without him; his baby girl was an adult; Peter and Harley had graduated for Christ's sake, from both high school and college. Tony couldn't have held back the sob he let out even if he tried.

"Oh Tony…" she gathered her husband in her arms. He buried his face in her neck and let out heart-wrenching sobs. His tears were beginning to dampen Pepper's neck when she started to run her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. 

"They were devastated, you know," Pepper began, "Everyone was, but it took them longer to finally accept that you were gone." 

Tony raised his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Who?"

"Harley and Peter," replied Pepper, "Harley locked himself in your lab for days on end and wouldn't come out until someone went in and forced him to get some rest. Peter wouldn't eat and hardly got any sleep from all of the nightmares he was having. It finally got to the point where Helen had to hook him up to an IV after he passed out once. That was when I told them both that you wouldn’t want them doing this to themselves. After that, they started to make progress.” 

Another wave of sorrow hit Tony like a brick wall. His boys were so upset over his death that they neglected their own health. How many times had they willingly allowed themselves to be hurt because of him?

"But they got better," continued Pepper, "They were able to find comfort and start looking after each other." She let out a chuckle. "They were practically attached at the hip. Still are." 

That made Tony smile. He was glad that they got along. He always wanted to introduce them but never got the chance to before the Blip happened. 

"You should see them. You'd be so proud. They're both helping me so much with Stark Industries. I honestly have no idea what I'd do without them," said Pepper, as she wiped away the remaining tears left on his face.

"What about Morgan? How’s she?" 

"She's amazing," said Pepper. Tony tried to make a comment about how of course she is, she’s his daughter, but Pepper just ignored him with an eyeroll.  "Peter says she's the perfect combination of you and me with your brains and my business skills. God only knows one day the three of them are either going to take over the world or destroy it." 

Tony let out a snort, "That sounds about right." 

···································

They continued to talk about everything he'd missed for over an hour when Pepper let out a startled sound, “I forgot to tell you-"

"Hey Pepper, do you know where my..laptop...is…" said Harley as he walked in before making eye contact with Tony and tapping his watch, which turned into a repulser that was aiming straight at the older man.

“Harley?” Tony asked in wonder, tears threatening to spill again. Harley looked different from how he did when he had last seen him, but that was, without a doubt, him. His dirty blonde hair had grown long enough to reach just above his ears, and, Jesus, was he tall. The blue-eyed boy looked like he reached a height of about 6’3”, a full two inches taller than Tony himself. He was about to say more but was cut off by a startlingly hard voice. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" yelled Harley. Pepper jumped up in alarm at the younger boy's harsh tone and stood between the two of them, getting in the way of the repulser's shot.

"It's not him, Harley." Not who? Tony thought.

Harley’s narrowed eyes never left the other man as he replied with a snarl, "Tony’s dead, so who else could it be?" 

"It's not, I had Friday check to make sure it wasn't an illusion. Do you really think I wouldn’t think of that?" said Pepper, her voice laced with accusation. 

Harley looked at her for a second before reluctantly lowering his gun “No...but then how-”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He said the last thing he remembers is using the stones against Thanos before ending up here.” 

Tony watched them talk back and forth for another ten minutes while he processed what just happened. What did this person do to make him so hostile? Before he could stop himself, he voiced his confusion. 

Harley stopped arguing with Pepper and turned to him with a sigh, “You’re really you, aren’t you?” His eyes searched Tony for any hesitation while he waited for an answer. 

“Of course, who else would I be? Seriously, what’s going o-” 

He was cut off by someone throwing themselves at him and wrapping their arms around him in a firm hug. “God, I missed you, old man.” 

Tony relaxed in his grip and returned the hug tightly. “Missed you too, kid” 

It took them several minutes to rein in their emotions and let go of each other, their faces wet with tears. Neither of them were ever really good at emotions, both preferring to make sarcastic comments rather than state their true feelings.

“So, you never answered my question,” stated Tony. 

Harley looked at him in confusion, “What question?” 

“Who did you think I was?” Tony both wanted to change the subject and satisfy his curiosity, but Pepper and Harley gave each other a worried glance before tentatively turning back to him. 

“It’s a, uh, long story,” Harley said, “A lot happened while you were gone," but as he raised his arms to start explaining, Tony noticed something. 

“Hold on a second...Is that a wedding ring?! You're married?!"

“Oh, well, I guess,” The blonde boy sheepishly rubbed his neck. 

“What do you mean you ‘guess?’” Tony cried, “Who is it? Do I know them?” 

Harley looked overwhelmed, but it was obvious that Pepper found this all amusing due to the bright laugh she let out. “I told you he would go crazy if he ever found out. Just wait until he hears who it is.” The boy glared at her for a second, wishing she wouldn’t encourage the older man. It wasn’t that Harley was afraid to tell Tony about his husband, but...he was kind of afraid to tell him about his husband. Both Harley and Peter knew that Tony had seen them both as sons, and they had mournfully speculated on multiple occasions what his reaction would be; however, now that he was given the chance to find out for himself, he was hesitant. Would Tony be mad at them? God knows that neither of them would be able to deal with their pseudo-father's rejection very well, especially Peter. 

“Well, you see, it’s-”

“Tony?” Tony’s head shot up at the sound of his name.

“Peter! Wait, it's not-” Harley tried to reach out to the other boy, but he fearfully jerked away from the incoming touch, eyes wide. When he saw this, Harley’s blue eyes softened into something akin to hurt and a small sympathetic noise left his throat. 

“Peter, sweetheart, you’re ok, you’re safe. It’s not Beck,” spoke Harley softly, as if he were talking to a frightened animal, but it didn’t seem to work.  Peter began to hyperventilate the longer he looked at the scene in front of him. In an attempt to block out the illusion, he quickly shut his eyes and covered his ears, trying to defend himself against the more than likely painful experience he was about to have.

“Pepper, get him out of here!” snapped Harley, and it didn’t take long for Pepper to grab Tony’s arm and pull him out of the room despite the boy’s rude tone. At this point, Tony was very confused. He thought Peter would be ecstatic to see that he was back, not fearful. And who is Beck? The name is vaguely ringing a bell. Is that who Harley thought he was? What did he do to Peter that would make him have a panic attack the moment he thought he saw him?

Once he and Pepper were out of sight from the other two, they came to a stop. “What the hell was that all about?” Tony demanded. 

Pepper let out a long sigh, and in that moment, she looked very tired. "Do you remember Quentin Beck?" 

The second Tony heard the man's full name, memories of a brown haired man screaming at him rushed to the surface of his brain. That psycho was who everybody was so defensive against? Tony remembered the project they were working on. Beck was brilliant, but he had proven himself to be unstable when he tried to use an experiment with their work on an unsuspecting intern. After that, Tony had stopped the partnership between them and wrote up a contract that said Tony got full rights to the product and Beck would only get part of the credit since Tony had done most of the work anyways. He really hoped that didn't result in consequences for his protege. 

But unfortunately his hope ended up being dashed when Pepper began to explain all of the things Beck had done to Peter in Europe as revenge for what Tony had done, from revealing his identity and framing him for murder to hitting him with a speeding train (of all things), all while psychologically tormenting him with illusions of his worst fears and most traumatic experiences. Apparently while Peter was on the run as an international criminal, Pepper and Happy had sent him to stay with Harley to lay low while they cleared his name and did damage control. 

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. His son had gone through hell and back in the wake of his death and Tony wasn't there to help him.  Peter must've felt so alone, not to mention all of the PTSD he must've gotten from the whole ordeal.

Pepper saw the combination of anguish and fierce protectiveness on his face and assured Tony that yes, Peter had been through a lot, but between Harley, Happy, May, Morgan, and herself, he was able to mentally recover for the most part. He still has nightmares and panic attacks about what happened but he is now able to put the suit on and protect New York despite what happened to him as Spider-man. 

Tony still had so many questions, but before he could voice any of them Friday’s robotic voice said, "Mr. Keener wishes me to tell you that you may make your way back to the living room."

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

As Pepper slowly led Tony back to where the boys were, she cautioned, "Just give him some time. One of Beck's favorite things to torment him with was you."

Tony's anger flared once more. How dare Beck hurt his kid like that. It's a good thing he's dead because he definitely wouldn't be alive for much longer with Tony here now. 

When they finally re-entered the living room, what Tony saw made him freeze. Peter wasn’t cowering against the wall anymore but was now standing in Harley’s arms with his face buried in the taller boy’s chest. Harley had his head rested on top of Peter’s chocolate curls as he serenely swayed the both of them back and forth and murmured something Tony couldn’t hear. He looked over to Pepper to see if she was seeing the same thing he was, but she was just looking at the two with fond eyes before quickly glancing in Tony’s direction with a smug smile. He raised his eyebrows at her in question but she just gently shook her head and cleared her voice to grab  the others’ attention. 

Peter and Harley both looked up, startled, before de-tangling from each other minus one hand. The former looked at Tony with hesitation and asked, “Is it really you?” 

“Yeah, bud, it’s me,” replied Tony, trying to put as much sincerity in his eyes as possible. 

When Peter heard that, he let out a sob and let go of Harley’s hand as he threw himself at his mentor. Tony was quick to meet him halfway in a bone-crushing hug, securing his arms around the boy as he turned his face into the younger man’s temple. Peter was openly crying with his head tucked into Tony’s neck, the tears on his face soaking the older man’s skin, “I missed you...so much,” hiccups breaking apart his speech. 

“God, I missed you too, kid,” was all Tony could say in response. 

It felt like hours before they let go of each other, them both trying to make up for the years they didn’t have together. When they finally took a step back, Peter went back to Harley’s side and grabbed his hand again, seeking comfort from it. That was when Tony noticed the gold band on his ring finger as well. “What the hell?! You’re married too?!” he shouted. 

Peter, Harley, and Pepper all gave each other a look that lasted a little too long, and Tony felt like he was missing something, “What?” 

“You really haven’t figured it out yet?” replied Pepper with a touch of humor in her voice. 

“Figured what out?”

“I guess I never actually told you who I was married to…” chimed Harley, “It’s, uh, it’s Peter. Peter’s my husband.” The couple gave each other a look full of love and adoration before turning back to Tony to see his reaction.

Tony’s breath was knocked out of his lungs, “Holy shit, seriously?” He always knew the two of them would get along together like fire takes to oxygen, but he never imagined this. Though now that he thinks about it, it kind of makes sense. The boys are very similar with their love of science yet are complete opposites personality-wise. Harley is rough around the edges and prefers to avoid discussing feelings or showing his true emotions, much like Tony does. While Peter, on the other hand, is soft-hearted and does his best to think about everybody else but himself. Together, they seem to complete each other, picking up the slack in one part of the other’s life that they weren’t aware was weighing them down. 

This time Peter spoke up saying, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been together for over ten years now. About four years ago Harley proposed to me and we got married two years later.” Tony’s heart dropped at the thought of missing their wedding. 

“They were both pretty upset about you not being able to be there, so we set up a chair in the front with a picture of you sitting on it,” added Pepper. 

Tony tried to will away the tears that were threatening to spill again but a few of them ran down his cheeks anyways. He was touched by their gesture and walked forward to engulf them both in a hug that they returned, “I’m happy for you, boys.” The two of them seemed to relax at that, but by then, everyone in the room was crying. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” whispered Peter with a smile despite the tears running down his face. 

“Me too, kid, me too.”

#parkner #parkner week 2020 #peter parker #harley keener x peter parker #peterharley #harley x peter #harleypeter #keenker #harley keener #spiderlad #parkner week #irondad #ironfam #parley #pw 2020 rb #romantic #citrus #fluff #a little bit of angst #peter x harley

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Fight Them || Morgan & Mina

TIMING: Current, shortly after Morgan’s run-in with Dani on campus

PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan comes home, still reeling from Dani’s attack, where she is found by Mina. 

“It’s never going to stop, is it?”

CONTAINS: panic attack

It was a little after ten by the time Morgan made it to her house and stepped out of the car and stood frozen in the middle of the walkway. She was fine. She had all her body parts and after three pointless detours around town, she convinced herself that there was no way the hunter girl had followed her home. She was fine. The windows glowed with warm light and the purple-white glare from the TV in the great room. She could imagine Deirdre carelessly tipping the delivery driver fifty dollars and Bex sorting out the food and Mina’s face when she got her sushi and the cringes and the small talk and the whole wonderful nothing of dinner at home in the kitchen. She was fine. Any minute now, she would shuffle forward and open the door and call out to them and Deirdre would know just how tight to hold her and she would be fine.

But Morgan’s feet would not bring her any closer to her front door. If she moved anywhere except down to her knees, it would be around the side, where she would pass the kitchen windows and the paper cartons strewn on the counters on her way to her garden, her studio, her shed. It was as if that girl’s hand was still around her throat, pinning her down, ready to cut her existence away. The night wind billowed, making the grass sing in whispers and reminding her how alone, how vulnerable she was, standing alone in the dark with her back turned to the street.

Morgan turned and marched around the side of the house until she was through the fence and staggering toward the back porch. Her chest burned, collapsing inward. There was no lung function to disrupt and so no hyperventilating to make her dizzy, her breath simply stuck in place and the fear boxed away in her spilled out of her in taut muscles and trembling hands. Morgan bent over, too tired to do anything but let her hurt take her, and opened her mouth to cry out. Only the faintest croak rattled out of her breathless lips. She clawed her throat, hearing the echoes of her own pleas in her ear, and sank to her knees at last, wheezing and whimpering all the way to the ground. She was fine. She was home. All she’d wanted was to be able to come home and now she was home, so everything was fine...

Mina had left the house early, claiming a late night swim before bed and managing to stave off any curiosity that Bex might have to stick around. All she really ended up doing is soaking, something that she probably could have done in the tub but wanted just a bit more space to do. She wasn’t even shifted much, just the patchy amount of scales broken out. She’d been about to get out anyway when she heard whimpering, crying. Pulling herself up, Mina proceeded towards the porch until she saw Morgan curling in on herself. “Morgan?” She’d never heard Morgan make that sound, and Mina didn’t know what to do. For a second, she just stood there, eyes wide, unsure of what she was supposed to do. But then Morgan started clawing at her throat, and Mina leapt forward. “Morgan!” She reached out, trying to pull Morgan’s hands away. “Hey, hey, Morgan. Can you hear me? Morgan? What happened? What’s wrong?” She looked for marks before she realized that she probably wouldn’t find any. Zombie healing took away most forms of outward harm. “Morgan, please, breathe. Please breathe. Please breathe.”

Morgan heard her name as if from inside the house, but her hands were being moved, she was being pulled again, and what if she wasn’t fast enough this time? She sat up and tried to pull away, her frightened cry coming out in broken squeaks. But it was only Mina. Morgan slumped, still shaking but no longer fighting, and at the girl’s bidding, her lungs opened and the sobs that had been trapped inside her spilled out. What had happened? The same thing that always happened. The same thing that would keep happening, until one day it stuck. Morgan tried to breathe. When she was alive, breathing had always been a dependable comfort, but the more she tried, the harder she shook and sobbed. Morgan couldn’t even lift her head to look at Mina. It felt wrong to throw this at her feet, to make her carry this with her, but she couldn’t even sit up on her own, how was she supposed to keep it together long enough to get inside? Morgan shook her head and prayed to the earth that Mina knew how ashamed she was, how much she didn’t want this for either of them.

At last, in a voice warped with tears, she said, “There was a hunter. On campus. S-she knew...I didn’t tell her anything, I’d never seen her, she just knew. What I am. I was j-just leaving the building. I just wanted to come home...” She shivered and shrank inward, hating the plaintive sound of her voice, how she couldn’t seem to stop begging.

There was that moment when Mina almost panicked because of course she shouldn’t have just reached out and touched Morgan like that without asking, but then Morgan slumped forward, and Mina grabbed her under the arms and hugged her, held her, as she cried. This was terrifying. She’d never seen Morgan this upset. Morgan was so strong, always, in Mina’s eyes. She’d never watched Morgan break like this and shatter in so many places. Swallowing tightly, Mina attempted to soothe the older woman, remembering how Morgan had comforted her before. She could do this. This was something that she could do.

“There’s a slayer on campus?” she asked. She wondered if it was the same slayer, Bex’s slayer, the one that saved her from the vampire. This wasn’t fair. There couldn’t be a slayer out there that saved one of Mina’s favorite people while hurting another one. That wasn’t fair. “It’s okay. It’s okay. She won’t come here. She’s not going to come here.” She moved them a bit, tried to keep Morgan from caving in. “She won’t come here, but, if she does, Deirdre and I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay? We won’t. It’s not happening.”

Morgan didn’t have the strength to tell Mina she was sorry for crying on her, that this wasn’t her job, that she wanted to protect her too, and if she could just get inside and see the warm lights from the great room, she might finally feel safe. The only thing she could manage between repeating some variation of what she’d already said was more cries, until her voice buckled. Then she quieted and forced her eyes open to look at the world around her while her body continued to release its panic. Thousands of blades of grass, one freshwater pool fostering plant life, one nix who had done so much for her that she would never be able to repay, two steps to the front porch. Three clouds in the sky, one moon, ten constellations she’d made up with Deirdre. She went around like that, counting the chimes that tinkled in the wind, the rustles from night bugs, the points of pressure from Mina’s grasp that she could actually feel, until the rest of her quieted and she only felt dull and hollow.

“I almost made it out on my own. I bought myself time, and then I didn’t,” she mumbled. “If it wasn’t for the fucking face-stealer, I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t…” Be here. With Mina. With anything. “I don’t want it to be your job to protect me. I don’t want the last thing I hear to be someone telling me I stopped existing the moment I died. That I deserve to be executed.” She breathed, chest shaking. “Did your dad’s friends ever tell you stories about people like me?”

“There’s really no way to prepare for something like this,” Mina said. “I’m just glad you made it out.” Her eyes widened. “There was a face-stealer, too?” Okay, alright. One problem at a time. She took a deep breath. “You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.” Mina didn’t know what she’d do if Morgan wasn’t here, if the slayer had succeeded. Would she have gone after a slayer, a human, to avenge a zombie? Would she really do that? Would she so firmly disregard her training in that way? Yes. The voice in the back of her head was tiny, but it was hers, and it was honest. She would. She would. She didn’t want to think on that too hard, didn’t want to think on the fact that she couldn’t avenge her father’s murder but would Morgan’s in a heartbeat. She didn’t want to know what that meant. Maybe it meant that she was as much of a monster as she’d always believed. Maybe it meant something else.

“It’s not my job to protect you. I want to. There’s a difference.” Mina knew this. This was about more than duty. She pulled away a bit, trying to look Morgan in the eye. “My dad’s friends were wrong. My dad was wrong. If they’d met you, they’d know that. He would know that.” The words didn’t sit well. Then, quieter, “I’ve seen zombies before.” She knew how to take down zombies, too. She’d never had to, didn’t want to, but she had the knowledge. That’s what happened when your dad wanted to be able to take one whatever, whenever, for however much was offered.

Morgan could only meet Mina’s eyes for a few moments before becoming too embarrassed of how broken she looked. “I tried to tell her…” she swallowed thickly. “To explain that I wasn’t what she thought I was. That I was a person. It was the first thing I tried…” And if it had accomplished anything at all, it had just made the slayer even more determined to kill her. It was too important to the rationalization bedtime stories some hunters told themselves. Of course they needed to stamp out any challenge they heard to that. Of course they’d try to double down. Morgan shivered, and decided to let Mina keep her own illusions; at least those were full of hope. “Were they starving, like the ones you see on TV, the zombies you saw? Or were they...like me?”

“Sometimes, they can’t hear,” Mina said, quietly. “Or they-- they-- they don’t want to hear. They don’t want-- They can’t-- To think of you as a person,” To think of myself as a person, “Is for them to completely rewrite everything that they know, that they were taught, and it’s not possible for some people because if they slowed down and they listened and they heard, they would know that you’re good and a person and that you’re not going to hurt them.” And some zombies were bad because not everyone could be a Morgan and try to live alternatively and eat animal brains cooked like a person. Not everyone did that. It was hard to explain that, especially to someone who always wanted to see the worst. How readily Mina had just… accepted Morgan as Morgan. How readily she’d accepted that Morgan could be a person, that Ari could be a person. Deirdre. They were people, and she knew that now, and maybe there was a part of her that had always wanted to see supernaturals as people but just didn’t know how. Still didn’t know how, sometimes.

Mina looked at Morgan, looked away. “They looked like you.” There’d been one man, and Mina would have never known what he was if it wasn’t for the slayer with them letting them know he was a draugr. He was old and young at the same time. He looked so tired. When they’d cornered him, Mina had looked away. She almost always looked away. “They just looked like people, but we were told they were dangerous people, and they needed to be-- So they were.”

Morgan knew what Mina was going to say before she even began. How many dinners in Texas had gone quiet when she brought up the hate crimes in Montrose or the attempts to give places the right to turn away queer couples from their apartment complexes and churches and schools and bakeries. If there was ever a real person in those discussions, and not just some hateful, fear-stricken idea, it wouldn’t be so easy. They might have to feel like a bad person. They might have to regret half their whole life in one go. And in a world that nurtured so little forgiveness, they couldn’t handle that, could they?

And with how Mina was brought up, with how her father had made her promise to be like him on pain of death, she wasn’t surprised that Mina had helped kill zombies like her, who died frightened, alone, and in so much despair. She nodded, accepting this, and sank a little further. “...It’s never going to stop, is it? It doesn’t even matter to them that I hate what human brains do to me, that I didn’t choose this, that I don’t even want to hurt anyone, much less…” She breathed deep, her breath still trembling with sobs waiting to burst. Then again. Then again. When she spoke again, her voice was firm. “Will you teach me? How to fight like them? Because I don’t want this either. I don’t want to spend the rest of my existence waiting for someone to find me and break me like I’m an abomination from hell, like I’m a thing made to be crushed. I need to be able to do better the next time this happens. I need to know I can make it home. You offered to show me once: no holding back, for either of us. Do you still mean that?”

Was it ever going to stop? Mina didn’t know. She didn’t think so, and she hated that. “They don’t-- They don’t know. They just don’t know. They don’t want to know.” She breathed in with Morgan, swallowing down bile. None of the people that she grew up with would see Morgan as a person. None of them. She wouldn’t have, over a year ago. She didn’t know what she would have done, if she’d known Morgan as a zombie before she knew her as a human. She might have found a slayer to deal with the situation. She might have never listened to Morgan about anything that she’d tried to tell Mina about supernaturals and life and just being a person. She probably still wouldn’t believe that she was a person. She took a deep breath. “I’ll teach you. I’m not losing you to people who don’t understand and refuse to listen.” She squeezed Morgan’s hand tightly. “There’s no learning to fight like them. You can’t. They were made to fight you.”

Mina’d had to learn that from wardens. She could mimic them all she wanted, but that wasn’t teaching her to fight them, just like them. “You have to learn to fight them.” She didn’t know how to fight back, only to hold her ground until she could escape. It looked like they’d both be teaching each other something. “But I did mean it. No holding back. You’re going to learn how to make sure you can always make it home.” Maybe she was damning herself, teaching a supernatural how to fight back against hunters. Maybe this was the ultimate step in the wrong direction. Maybe she didn’t care.

Morgan squeezed Mina’s hand in turn. Fight them. It didn’t sound so just-in-caseies like that. There was nowhere to hide what she wanted, how many Good Little Zombie rules she’d be breaking, how much she would be disappointing Remmy, or how much of the world she wanted to believe in might crumble away.

Gold lamplight splashed into the yard. Morgan flinched, whimpering, then she lifted her gaze to the windows. There was Bex in her pajamas, her hand still on the master switch, gaping with fear. She said a word and out of the shadows stepped Deirdre. Morgan let go of Mina’s hand to reach for her and toppled against the nix instead, too overwhelmed to remember how to balance. Deirdre was in her black robe, the one Morgan had gotten for her because it had bats and tombstones on the inside, and her hair looked damp from her shower. She was so beautiful in the most ordinary way, Morgan started to cry all over again, thinking of her swallowed by eternal nothing alongside the girls she loved so much.

Bex and Deirdre ran for the nearest door and as they knocked past each other and dashed into the garden, Morgan realized how much they looked like they’d known each other for so much longer, like they belonged in the house together.

“The hunters think I was made to fight them. Maybe I can prove them right,” she rasped, her eyes still on Bex and Deirdre, coming closer and calling her name. She swallowed thickly and hid her last words in Mina’s shoulder, audible only to the two of them. “Meet me at seven, just after sunrise. No holding back.”

Then she was surrounded, hands all over her face, bodies pressed against her back, familiar voices mixing into worried noise, and the only thing Morgan wanted more than the power to cut down anything that would take her away from this (all she loved, all she had, all that could be) was the power to hold everyone close to her at once and carry them safe inside.

#fight them #wr mina #wr chatzy #wr mina chatzy

[9worldstales]

MCU: Is Loki a serial betrayal or not?

So one of the things I see often discussed in the MCU is the long, long history of deceit and betrayal that goes on between Thor and Loki that got mentioned in “Thor – Ragnarok”.

As various MCU movies and comics get mentioned, I made a list of the sources referenced so you’ll know if they might end up spoiling you. Consider yourself warned (or feel free to skip the list if it bores you).

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “The Avengers” (2012), “Thor – The Dark World” (2013), “Avengers: Age of Ultron” (2015), “Thor – Ragnark” (2017), “The Avengers – Infinity War” (2018), “The Avengers – Endgame” (2019), “WandaVision” (2021)

Comics: “Thor: Son of Asgard” (2004) “Marvel's The Avengers Prelude: Fury's Big Week” (2012)

Direct-to-video animated film: “Thor - Tales of Asgard” (2011)

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: “Thor: heroes and villains” (2011), “Marvel Studios The first 10 years” (2018)

Novels: “Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor” by Alex Irvine (2015), “Thor: The Dark World Junior Novelization” by Michael Siglain (2013), “Loki – Where mischief lies” by Mackenzi Lee (2019), “The pirate angel, the talking tree and captain rabbit” by Steve Behling (2019)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: Interview “A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson”, interview “Joss Whedon told Comic-Con the question he doesn’t want us to ask ever again”, Interview “Chris Hemsworth (Thor: The Dark World)”, Interview “Tom Hiddleston Talks the Love-Hate of Loki and ‘Thor’”, Interview “Chris Hemsworth Talks Expanding Beyond Asgard, Interview “Building to THE AVENGERS 2, and More on the Set of THOR: THE DARK WORLD”, Interview “Chris Hemsworth ‘Thor: Ragnarok’, Embracing the Comedy, the Thor/Loki Relationship and More”, Interview “Avengers 4 Endgame: Is Loki ALIVE? Chris Hemsworth gave a massive hint at London fan event”, Interview “Avengers stars reveal one big downside to the job”, “How Taika Waititi Made Thor: Ragnarok So Damn Funny”, Interview “How 'Thor: Ragnarok' Honors & Deviates from Its Comics Foundation”, Interview “Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi”, interview “Kevin Fiege Talks Iron Man 2, The Avengers and More”

So now, let’s start with a quote from Eric Pearson, one of the guys responsible for the script of “Thor - Ragnarok”.

“Thor and Loki have had so many interactions, and alliances, and betrayals. They’ve been each others’ nemesis for so long that even they’re a little exhausted by themselves. It’s almost like the fatigue of dealing with each other allows this terminator like force of Hela to just walk in. They’re divided so she conquers.” [A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson]

So, since math is an awesome thing and “Marvel Studios The first 10 years” gave us an official timeline let’s do some math.

For start the official timeline.

965: Odin adopts Loki

2011: Thor

2012: The Avengers

2013: Thor: The Dark World

2015: Avengers: Age of Ultron

2017: Thor: Ragnarok, Avengers: Infinity War

2022: Avengers: Endgame (actually not mentioned in the timeline but it takes place 5 years after “Avengers: Infinity War”)

Loki is adopted in 965 so he and Thor are adopted brothers by 1052 years in “Thor - Ragnarok”.

So… “Thor” takes place in 2011 and overall covers three days and, in 2 of them, Thor and Loki are on opposing sides. At the end of “Thor” Loki is believed to be dead.

In 2012 Loki shows up again in “Avengers”. Thor arrives on Earth by night and spend there what, a day? before going back to Asgard with Loki, who then spends a year in jail with Thor never visiting him before he is freed in “Thor: The Dark World”, which takes place in 2013.

It’s worth to mention in “Thor: The Dark World” Thor and Loki are allied against Malekit before Loki is believed dead again and instead rules Asgard up until 2017, when “Thor – Ragnarok” takes place.

Anyway this means that in those 1052 years they spent together Loki and Thor had been on opposing sides for 6 years… during which only 1 year was spent with Thor knowing Loki was alive and only 4 days were spent with them actively fighting each other.

But maybe those days were days of intense betrayal… so let’s sum them up.

For start let’s remember everyone that betrayal is a deliberate break of trust, of faith.

“Thor” is the one which contain most betrayal, even though some things weren’t meant to be as such at the time in which it was filmed but whatever, let’s be strict.

- Loki ruined Thor’s coronation

- Loki had Odin warned they were going to Jotunheim so that Odin came saving their lives

- Loki lied about Odin being dead and Frigga not wanting Thor back.

- After making clear he was Thor’s enemy (I mean he sent the Destroyer to ‘Ensure his brother does not return’, could he have been more explicit?) he tricked him into helping him making him believe he was dangling on the edge of the Bifrost and needed his help.

Okay, that’s a total of 4, one of which done to save everyone’s live (and it saved everyone’s life but, as I said, I’ll be strict and still count 4).

“The Avengers” despite painting Loki as the villain, has no betrayal. Loki doesn’t make any attempt to paint himself as Thor’s friend, he doesn’t even call Thor ‘brother’, he makes clear he wants Earth’s crown and he has made clear in “Thor” he wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Yes, he lies to him about sending the Tesseract away, uses an illusion to trick Thor into ending up in the cage and drop the cage on the ground and stabs Thor on surprise as they’re fighting. He however never let Thor believe they’re on the same side, I’ll say with dropping the cage he remarked how he wasn’t on Thor’s side since he wondered if the fall could kill Thor. If Thor didn’t want to get the message, this was not Loki betraying him, this was Thor refusing to listen. As for Loki surviving to a fall into the void and not warning Thor about it, that’s not betrayal either. When Loki let himself fall in the void it was a suicide attempt. His survival is a plot hole for whom Whedon didn’t really bother making up an explanation.

“Well, I can’t tell you exactly what went on because it’s this dark, dark secret that I didn’t make up yet. But, the other day, I had trouble with that because he had this very passionate Shakespearean tragedy thing going on in Thor and then I needed a villain who’s not only capable, but ready and willing and anxious to take on all these heroes. For me, he just basically went on some horrible walkabout… That was pretty much as far as I got.” [Joss Whedon told Comic-Con the question he doesn’t want us to ask ever again ]

“Avengers: Infinity War” suggested Thanos resurrected him, how is up to speculation. I wonder if it has to do with the mind stone, which somehow resurrected his mind in a way similar to how Wanda resurrected Vision. But I’m not sure Marvel really tried to figure this out beyond ‘it just happened’. Anyway Loki didn’t plan to fake his death, his survival/resurrection was accidental and he didn’t own to his family to send them a note saying ‘I’m alive’.

So we’ve a total of 0.

“Thor: The Dark World” has merely the fact that Loki again didn’t die when he was supposed to. Mind you, he was supposed to die (or if he were to survive this was meant to be a secret as the movie’s ending was meant to be very different), but then they decided to keep him alive and on the throne of Asgard for “Thor: Ragnarok”. So, he clearly was stabbed and let Thor believe the wound was fatal, then went back to Asgard, took Odin’s place, offered Thor the throne and when the latter refused, took it for himself. We can’t count the fact he told Kurse ‘You might want to take the stairs to the left’ as betrayal because, again, being jailed, he’s clearly not on Thor’s same side nor trusted. Betrayal is a break of trust from someone you believed on your side. An enemy doesn’t betray you, a friend does, and Thor stated he doesn’t view anymore Loki as his brother. We also know the action was a miscalculation on his part, he thought Kurse was merely a Marauder, a pirate, not a Dark Elf part of a Dark Elves’ invasion, and he didn’t think it would end up causing Frigga’s death, just some troubles for his father and brother who cast him in that cell and, according to the novelization, he was meant to end up regretting it short after doing it.

“The east stairs lead to the barraks. You’ll find them mostly unguarded.” Loki said and Kurse nodded, then continued on, glad for the inside information. Loki wanted revenge against Thor and Odin – he just hoped that he wasn’t getting more than he hoped for. [“Thor: The Dark World Junior Novelization”]

More explosions occurred aboveground and Loki glanced upward. “Don’t you think you ought to look into that?” he said. Thor scowled at his brother, then strode off toward the stairs. Loki watched his brother leave, a hint of guilt in his eyes. What had he done? [“Thor: The Dark World Junior Novelization”]

So okay, if we count the fact he let Thor believe him he died, and that he was Odin, we’ve a total of 2.

Which leads us to the amazing number of 6.

Now okay, betraying 1 time is 1 time too much but this is not a pattern that pervaded his whole life, this is 2 days in which Loki was not in his right mind due to pain (“Thor”) and a day in which he wanted to avoid being jailed for life as Thor has promised him he would be once they were to get back (“Thor: The Dark World”).

But, but, but, didn’t Loki betrayed and attempted to murder Thor PRIOR to “Thor”? And why aren’t I considering “Thor: Ragnarok” at all?

I mean, in addition to Loki betraying Thor for money, there’s this bit in “Thor: Ragnarok”:

Banner: Okay, can I just... A quick FYI, I was just talking to him just a couple minutes ago and he was totally ready to kill any of us.

Valkyrie: He did try to kill me.

Thor: Yes, me too. On many, many occasions. There was one time when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, and he knows that I love snakes. So, I went to pick up the snake to admire it and he transformed back into himself and he was like, "Yeah, it's me!" And he stabbed me. We were eight at the time. [“Thor – Ragnarok”]

But the problem is to quote Wanda in“WandaVision” when her ‘brother’ talks about their shared childhood, this sort of relationship, well, ‘That’s not exactly how I remember it.’ From the previous movies, interviews, books, novels and extra material, I mean.

But let’s start with order.

So “Thor: Ragnarok”.

Remember Eric Pearson, the guy whose quote I used to start all this?

For start this guy never worked on a script with Thor and Loki previously.

The most he did was to be involved in the “Marvel's The Avengers Prelude: Fury's Big Week” in which Thor and Loki have some cameo appearances.

So let’s hear what he has to say about Thor and Loki’s relation.

“For introductions, working on Thor’s voice was really great just because Hemsworth is great with the script. He actually pulled me aside one morning to talk to me about the Thor and Loki scenes. He pointed out, correctly so, that what I had was retreading a bit of what had already happened in Thor, Thor: The Dark World and The Avengers. We needed to have their relationship exhibit the amount of awareness that it should have after the audience spent so much time with them on screen. So, the Thor and Loki stuff is also some of my favorite.” [A Talk With THOR: RAGNAROK’s Eric Pearson]

So Hemsworth informed his opinion and which opinion has Chris Hemsworth of the whole matter?

Well, his opinion on Thor’s relationship with Loki evolved as time went by… but FIRST let’s focus on how he believed it was their relationship during or prior the “Thor” movie.

“In the very first film Loki and Thor as brothers had a friendship where there was less hatred involved.” [Chris Hemsworth (Thor: The Dark World)]

It’s not terribly explicative but let’s say that they were more or less friends? So his brother wasn’t trying to murder him from childhood? He wasn’t betraying him from childhood?

According to Thom Hiddleston definitely not.

“I think Loki grows up with an older brother who he loves and respects. They play, they banter and they bash each other about, but there is a latent jealousy. Craig Kyle ‐ one of our producers ‐ always used to talk about the analogy of the quarterback and the artist. Thor is the quarterback. He’s a chip off the old block and he’s just like his dad. Loki’s problem is, maybe not his problem, but [that] he’s more drawn to the powers of intellect, magic, and the dark arts. He’s not going to be out in the fields throwing a hammer around. That’s just not where his passion lies. There’s a disconnect with Odin and there’s a disconnect with Thor. He loves them very much, but he’s not just made of the same stalk. In the course of the film there’s a big reveal both for Loki and the audience about the truth of Loki’s true lineage and who his real parents are. I think that begets any jealous that was within him towards Thor develops into a dark, cancerous rage that then becomes a destructive rage.” [“Tom Hiddleston Talks the Love-Hate of Loki and ‘Thor’”]

And the ruining of the coronation? As the movie itself said it was done because he didn’t believe his brother was ready to rule… but let’s also read this bit always from Tom Hiddleston.

“He’s certainly not an anarchist who wants to burn the house down. I think he has an inner conviction. He loves a practical joke, he loves mischief and he loves playing around. He loves starting a bonfire in the next room and hearing people scream, but nobody would be killed.” [“Tom Hiddleston Talks the Love-Hate of Loki and ‘Thor’”]

In short it wasn’t meant to cause any serious harm... same as warning his father was meant to save them. Of the 4 times in “Thor” in which Loki betrays Thor, 2 are not done with evil intentions in mind.

But maybe it’s just Tom Hiddleston?

Nope, we’ve the booklet “Thor: heroes and villains” agree with this.

“Loki is often the voice of reason to Thor’s impulsiveness and is usually relied on to talk his older brother out of sticky situation.” [“Thor: heroes and villains”]

“As Odin’s younger son, Loki has always known the throne of Asgard will never belong to him. He has, however, tried his best to be a good brother to Thor and a son Odin could be proud of.” [“Thor: heroes and villains”]

Then we’ve this in the “Thor” movie:

Sif: He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor.

Volstagg: We should be grateful to him, he saved our lives.

Hogun: Laufey said there were traitors in the House of Odin. A master of magic could bring three Jotuns into Asgard.

Fandral: Loki's always been one for mischief, but you're talking about something else entirely. [“Thor”]

The group suspects Loki wants to hand Asgard to the Jotuns, but up till the end of the movie Loki will have Asgard’s best interests in mind. His way to pursue them though, by destroying the Jotuns, is beyond ruthless but it’s not traitorous toward Asgard.

Also they’ve nothing against him beyond the fact he was jealous of Thor. They mention no stabbing episode, no murdering attempt no previous betrayal. Loki was jealous and they fear this had caused him to do something extreme. NOW. They’ve nothing they can use against him from the past, their suspects are based on Loki’s jealousy, the fact he’s a wizard and Laufey’s words.

Even the “Thor” novelization, which discusses their relation, doesn’t mention murder attempts prior to the Destroyer thing.

From Thor’s point of view:

“His younger brother has always been something of a mystery to him. While Thor had been eager to spread his wings, fight in battles, and go off on grand adventures, Loki had always been more hesitant. True, he had Thor’s back, but it was often only out of necessity.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

From Loki’s point of view:

“Why did he always seem to get into trouble because of his older brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wiser one? Odin has expressly forbidden that they enter Jotunheim. Yet it wasn’t the first time Thor had done something reckless. And it wouldn’t be the first time Loki was powerless to stop him.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Loki had Thor’s back, albeit he wasn’t happy about it, Thor is the one who causes troubles, everyone knows and in the novel Loki is regularly sent by Sif and the Warriors Three to calm Thor down and make him think.

Long story short Thor and Loki seemed to be originally planned to have a relationship similar to the one they had in “Thor - Tales of Asgard” direct-to-video animated superhero film which came out in the same year as “Thor”.

So, why somehow in “Thor: Ragnarok” it morphed into the one they have in the comics “Thor: Son of Asgard” (2004) if not worse?

Well, somehow Hemsworth’s feelings shifted along the way between “Thor: The Dark World” and “Thor: Ragnarok”. He was aware of how Loki and Thor’s relationship was portrayed in the comics and this bits fits with how in “Thor: Ragnarok” he just wants to tell Loki he didn’t care anymore.

I mean I can’t say too much but I think in the comic books, you kind of roll your eyes sometimes at the amount of times that they’re back to being best friends so we wanted to keep in mind that he did just try to kill you for the seventh time, and Earth and millions of people and what have you, so… [Chris Hemsworth Talks Expanding Beyond Asgard, Building to THE AVENGERS 2, and More on the Set of THOR: THE DARK WORLD]

Without giving too much away, I didn't want to repeat that relationship either. And Tom felt the same. All of us were like, ‘What can we do again here?’ There’s a bit of reversal as far as... In the first films, a lot of the time you’re seeing Thor going, 'Come back Loki, and da-da-da-da.' [But now] there’s a feeling from Thor that’s just like, 'You know what, kid? Do what you want. You’re a screw up. So whatever. Do your thing.' [Chris Hemsworth ‘Thor: Ragnarok’, Embracing the Comedy, the Thor/Loki Relationship and More]

"Ahhh, he's like the girlfriend you break up with and they don't get the message. Like, 'You're dead, sorry, it's over,' and they're coming round to hang the new drapes. "The most poignant moments (of Thor's movies) have been with Loki." [Avengers 4 Endgame: Is Loki ALIVE? Chris Hemsworth gave a massive hint at London fan event]

Until we get to “Avengers: Infinity War” in which he makes clear he believes Loki fooled him time and time again so that he doesn’t want him back…

While the cast share an obvious camaraderie, a void remains after Tom Hiddleston’s Loki died in Infinity War. Would Hemsworth bring back his troublesome onscreen brother if he could? “No. Why would I do that?” he answers, blankly. “He fooled me time and time again. But on the personal side, I was with Tom since the beginning of this journey and I learned a lot from him.” Hemsworth pauses. “If you’re asking if Thor would bring him back, I think if he could have done he would have. But for me, I don’t know.” [Avengers stars reveal one big downside to the job]

…even if Thor would have (and of course he would have if we’ve to believe Thor’s tears in “Avengers: Infinity War” and his depression in “Avengers: Endgame” are due to Loki’s death and it’s not merely due to how ‘fun’ it is to have a depressed Thor who ends up neglecting his health by drinking too much and getting fat… because being a source of amusement isn’t really a reason why you should introduce a depressed character in a story).

So yes, maybe Pearson didn’t go to the right source of info for Thor and Loki’s relationship.

However, credits when it’s due, the scene about Loki wanting to kill Thor from childhood is not so much due to Pearson or Hemsworth but due to Waititi.

Hewitt: You know, there’s another moment I love, when they have the little huddle about Loki, and he tells the story about how Loki turned into a snake.

Waititi: Yeah, yeah.

Hewitt: And that felt improv’d.

Waititi: Yeah, there was basically- what we did about six different versions of that story, and that was just us standing around, while the cameras are rolling, while I would just feed them lines, and feed Chris ideas for some stories. I was, “Oh, do one, this one, um, say, “I was walking through a field, and I saw a lovely Turkish rug in the middle of the grass, and I love Turkish rugs, so I went to stand on it, and it was Loki, and he turned back into Loki, and it was a hole, and I fell through the hole, and was impaled in the hole, full of spikes”.”

Hewitt: *laughs*

Waititi: As I did all versions of that and I just kept going with- Yeah, the one with the snake just turned out to be the one we used. [Taika Waititi On Screenwriting: An Empire 30th Anniversary Special]

And so how did Waititi envisioned the Thor-Loki dynamics? This is how Waititi describes Thor’s live:

“To be perfectly honest, he’s a rich kid who lives in a castle in outer space. I don’t know any of those people, but I do know people who come from dysfunctional families. He barely talks to his parents — well, his mom’s dead now — his brother is trying to kill him his entire life, and he’s supposed to be king, and he doesn’t want to be a king. A lot of it is also this father-son relationship stuff of him trying to prove himself, or trying to find his own identity, and I really relate to that. My dad was a very big personality in New Zealand and in our area, and I’ve always been trying to do my own thing to separate from him, while at the same time trying to impress him. Which is the story of pretty much all guys, and probably most girls, who are choosing a parent to impress. That was my way in with him.” [“How Taika Waititi Made Thor: Ragnarok So Damn Funny”]

Why Waititi came up with such an idea for their dynamics is up to everyone’s speculation because in itself it’s not important if he actually got told about it by Hemsworth, Pearson or by Brad Winderbaum, who admitted taking inspiration from the comics for “Thor – Ragnarok”…

“I'll tell you the three things we looked at the most. We're pulling a lot stylistically from Kirby [but] we're also looking at the Walt Simonson Ragnarok arc [and]… God of Thunder, the Jason Aaron book.” [How 'Thor: Ragnarok' Honors & Deviates from Its Comics Foundation]

… if this is the result of that 1 short comic he read…

“That’s a thing about me, guys, I did not do my research.” … “I read one issue of Thor as my research. Not even a graphic novel, it was one of the thin-thin ones.” … “And by the end of it, “Hm, well, we’re not doing that”. [Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi]

Waititi wanted to do his own story, not a continuation of the previous movies.

“I was lucky enough they didn’t force me to acknowledge things- there were certain things in the film, like the play, which makes fun of the scene in The Dark World where Loki dies, but there’s a point to that play, sort of to recap what happened, but also to tell the audience, “This is not what you think it’s going to be, this film is not going to be a continuation of that. It’s its own thing, and what you think you expect from this film ends at this play.”” [Empire Podcast Spoiler Special: Thor: Ragnarok with Taika Waititi]

This is not the point where I discuss what I think of this idea of stepping all over the previous movies to create a ‘new Thor’ that the Russo brothers proceeded to dismantle in the next movie.

In 2010 Feige was already on board with the idea ‘the movie comes first’ and the ‘connective tissue’ is fun and very important if you want it to be.

“It's never been done before and that's kind of the spirit everybody's taking it in. The other filmmakers aren't used to getting actors from other movies that other filmmakers have cast, certain plot lines that are connected or certain locations that are connected but I think for the most part, in fact, entirely everyone was on board for it and thinks that its fun. Primarily because we've always remained consistent saying that the movie that we are making comes first. All of the connective tissue, all of that stuff is fun and is going to be very important if you want it to be. If the fans want to look further and find connections than they're there. There are a few big ones obviously, that hopefully the mainstream audience will able to follow as well. But the most important thing and I think the reason that all the filmmakers are on board is that their movies need to stand on their own. They need to have a fresh vision, a unique tone and the fact that they can interconnect if you want to follow those breadcrumbs is a bonus.” [Kevin Fiege Talks Iron Man 2, The Avengers and More]

“Thor – Ragnarok” merely took it to an extreme, retconning a lot from the original to the point some feel “Thor – Ragnarok” is a parallel universe compared to the previous 4 movies, with its own canon.

So when they needed a joke they didn’t bother checking the previous canon, they just needed a joke and so they added that scene, and it somehow got so popular it got referenced in two novels, sorta, even if in both gets ‘adapted’.

Once he was in the room, the servant girl would likely go unnoticed enough to eavesdrop – certainly less noticed than a snake, which had been his initial plan, and which was easier to imitate than an Asgardian. But snakes tended to gather attention – Thor would pick up any serpent to admire it. [“Loki- Where mischief lies”]

In “Loki – Where mischief lies” by Mackenzi Lee the stabbing isn’t included, the book only keep Thor’s fascination for snakes and his habit to pick them up… but the scene couldn’t have happened when they were children as Loki is a teen in the book and has learnt only recently to use shapeshifting magic.

In “The pirate angel, the talking tree and captain rabbit” by Steve Behling the scene is partially retconned as well.

Where in the movie is played as a clear murder attempt in the book we’ve the same story but in a different contest.

“Hey, what did I tell you about insulting our guest?” Rocket scolded, shaking his head. “If anyone’s gonna do any insulting around here, it’s gonna be me.”

Groot looked at Rocket, and enacted an impressive-albeit obnoxious-imitation of the same sneet that Rocket used on Thor just few second earlier.

“I am-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Rocket warned.

“Gr-“

“I mean it! You wanna have tablet privileges revocked for a week, you go right ahead and finish that though.”

If Groot had pockets, he would have showed his limbs stubbornly into them, turned around grumbling, and walked away. As it was, he didn’t, so after a moment’s stare-off with Rocket he simply muttered, “I am Groot,” then ambled away.

“He’s in an awkward phase,” Rocket said to Thor by way of explanation, turning his attention to the master control panel.

“Adolescence is never easy,” Thor said looking over Rocket’s shoulder. “I remember when Loki and I were children. Loki transformed himself into a snake, and because I really, really love snake, I went to pick it up. But the moment I did, the snake transformed back into Loki, and then he stabbed me.”

It was at least ten second before Rocket spoke. And when he finally did, he sighed and said, “Why do I have the feeling you tell this story a lot? Like, A LOT.”

Thor smiled wanly. “Maybe a few times,” he acknowledged.

“I bet this Loki gets a big kick out of it every time you tell it,” Rocket said, chuckling.

The thin smile on Thor’s face quickly fell.

“Not anymore,” were the only words Thor could manage before he turned away. [“The pirate angel, the talking tree and captain rabbit”]

While in “Thor: Ragnarok” this story seems to be a proof Loki is an homicidal maniac because it’s compared to him wanting to kill Banner and Valkyrie and therefore, despite the idea this is a joke, make the whole matter a serious business, here Loki’s actions are compared to the ones of a teenager tree wanting to insult someone else and being told not to. It seems one of those stupid things little kids do in anger, or thinking it’s just a game, without really understanding the consequences they could have (=killing someone). Thor seems to almost brag about it, as if it was a funny childhood tale about the idiotic things they did as kids, not a cautious tale against his brother and the risks of trusting him.

It’s still a story that’s clearly out of character for how Loki was meant to be PRIOR to “Thor”, but at least now it’s better inserted in the contest and can fit vaguely more with the previous canon.

But whatever, that’s it.

So, in a way, we’ve two universes, one is the Pre-Ragnarok one, in which Loki prior to Thor loved his brother and had a good relation with him, and the other is the Ragnarok one, in which Loki wanted him dead from childhood.

Both exist.

It’s something a part of the fandom is well aware of, but also something another part of the fandom is ABSOLUTELY unaware of.

I’m not going to tell you which universe you’ve to favour, if the one in which Loki loved Thor or the one in which he wanted him dead, that’s up to your personal preference.

But if you’re among the many who’re still confused about why the fandom has split opinions about the relationship between the brothers… well, that’s a summary of the history behind it all.

Honestly, with the incoming “Thor – Love and Thunder” and “Loki” series, I’ve no idea what will be the future of it all. Waititi will probably want to go back to his “Thor – Ragnarok” continuity… unless he wants to reinvent Thor all over again so we’ll get another additional universe for Strange to enjoy in his upcoming “Doctor Strange in the multiverse of madness”… in addition to the universes created in “Avengers – Endgame” when the characters changed the past and the ones Loki will be creating in “Loki”.

Sorry, Doctor Strange, I guess you’ll have your hands full.

#thor #loki odinson #thor odinson #mcu #loki #9 worlds study

[brideofcthulhu10]

Hey guys I'm gonna be out and about today but before I go out to town I thought I leave you with some little Laddie Headcanons! A special thank you to my co-writer @imlostinsantacarla !

Laddie Headcanons

Unfortunately, Laddie was a part of a home in which a divorce was in the process of being filed. There was an immense amount of tension in the family dynamic whilst his father and mother sought to gain custody of him individually as they were in the midst of a messy breakup. The young child’s grandparents were aiding his father in filing for custody over him as his mother was hell bent on having sole custody without any visitation rights.

It’s well known that Laddie’s face was on a milk carton in the movie, with the word ‘MISSING’ written above it. This is just primarily speculation, of course. However, why else would two parents who didn't care about their child put up missing person’s posters everywhere? It’s certainly obvious that his parents were deeply troubled and affected by their son going missing, in conjunction with being apprehensive over his safety as they had no idea where he was.

Whilst his father was attempting to gain custody of him with his grandparents' help, Laddie’s mother lost him one night whilst on the BoardWalk too busy getting drunk at a bar, which is how and where the boys found him. He was all on his lonesome, wandering the BoardWalk terrified. The sight sincerely pulled on their heart strings. Seeing a little kid lost in the dead of night searching for his mother desperately just did not sit well with them.

Armed with the knowledge that their fellow sister Star was having second thoughts over their lifestyle, David immediately took the initiative to coax Laddie into drinking his blood and turning into one of them. This was not only to provide the child with a home, but also a strategy put in place to keep Star close and have her fully commit to their way of life as vampires. After all, girls love kids, don’t they? Surely her maternal or big sisterly instincts would kick in and provide her with the drive to become a caring figure for the young boy whilst solidifying her place in their group. She’d already agreed to the terms, there was no backing out now!

The other boys come to a conclusion of agreement that this is the best option as they cared about Star immensely, least enough to put up a fight when she was considering leaving, and they could not just let a poor boy stay out on the streets with nothing. There was a high likelihood of him getting kidnapped, murdered or something far, far worse whilst he was out there on his own. So they made the collective decision to take him under their wings and into their home, promising him that he would always remain safe with them.

Graciously, as if it were a match truly made in Heaven, Laddie and Star got on swell. The wee boy clung onto her desperately as she truly did remind him of his own mother and how she once was when she was with his dad. Star also bears a resemblance to his mother physically, ensuring that Laddie would bond with her much easier. The boys could not have been more happier and celebrated their success.

And thus it was settled! The boys took Laddie to the hotel and turned him, buttering him up a little in order over the next several to gain his trust and comfort.

"So, Laddie, you like it here?” David smirked at the young boy sat on the edge of the fountain in the hotel.

“Yeah it’s super cool!” He beamed enthusiastically, dangling his little legs off the edge and swinging them back and forth, they barely even hit the ground.

"Would you stay forever?" David pressed further, blonde brow quirked up in intrigue.

"Can I?!" Laddie exclaimed with an enormous grin plastered on his childish countenance.

"Hell yeah little dude! We even have a pretty, cool big sister for you!" Paul interjected just as happily, patting the tiny guy on the shoulder.

"Really?!"

"Mhm," Dwayne added, "and you can play every night."

"And you can eat as much as you want without getting sick, dude!" Marko declared.

"So, Laddie, what do you say?" David asked, head cocked to the side as he watched the little runts eyes float from face to face.

He sits still for a moment... "Hell yeah!"

The guys cheered excitedly, Marko handing David some fancy looking bottle, who in turn passed it to Laddie. "All you gotta do now, is drink this."

"It smells funny. What is it?"

"Old grape juice."

All the while, when Laddie is missing, his mother is struck with excruciating bouts of grief and shame, and attempts to get herself into a better space. Overcoming the worry and guilt that she feels over losing her son through alcohol, drugs, whatever it was that had caused her to lose her son on the BoardWalk that night, is an incredible challenge. She felt she had let her son down as well as her previous marriage. It only spurs on Laddie’s father to find him and gain total custody of the boy.

Living with four rambunctious teenage boys is a handful in itself, so it’s not a wonder that Laddie swears like a sailor, a terrible habit he picked up from the boys. Yet his one sister attempted profusely to set a better example for him. David and Paul find it hilarious that Laddie has a filthy potty mouth, whereas Dwayne and Star aren’t a fan of his newfound language.

“Hey, watch your language, bud.” Dwayne states sternly, chocolate orbs glowering into Laddie’s smaller ones.

“Pussy!” Paul bursts out in between a false coughing fit.

Laddie truly adores reading comic books frequently. In fact, the Frog brothers knew Laddie far before they knew the Emerson’s, they just didn’t acknowledge the kid all that much since he was far younger than them. This was especially since they were far too engrossed in blabbering about vampires, their investment in their own stuff made it impossible for them to give an ounce of attention to him. In their eyes he was always just the little twerp that stood on his tiptoes at the counter in their parents store, sprinkling dollar bills on top of a fat stack of mad magazine, Batman, and secretly some horror comics stuffed underneath the other ones he’d picked out.

“ 'Scuse me, can I get these," Laddie inquired politely, his eyes peering up at the two brothers behind the counter arguing over what the best way to waste a vampire was.

“Uh, yeah sure kid, whatever.” Alan stated fervently, his eyes still plastered on his brother's brooding gaze.

Edgar stuffed them into a plastic bag without sparing the kid a glance. “$15.75.”

“Okay.” Laddie stated in defeat before scooting over a wadded up ball of a $20 bill onto the counter before collecting his change and leaving with his head hung low.

Laddie is still a sucker for comics and wants new ones on a constant basis, it’s certainly something that aids him in passing the time at the hotel. Yet Paul’s adamant that he isn’t going to pay those dorks at the comic book store a single cent from his pocket. And David is a master at mental illusions, so there is one hell of a team to concoct a way to steal comic books. Neither Paul nor David feel any shame in it. David will create the illusion that Paul is walking by the store, only to actually be stealing a stack of comics to keep the poor kid happy.

Star and her inability to part with her human nature and high morals, is never too thrilled about the entire ordeal of stealing comics for Laddie. Laddie sees nothing wrong with it and only responds with utter enthusiasm at how awesome Paul is because Paul can do whatever he wants! This leads to Laddie following in the footsteps of the other boys, believing that he can both take and have whatever he wants, whenever he wants it no matter if there’s real life consequences involved because he can use his gifts (with training from David) to acquire all of his desires.

It’s also a common occurrence for Laddie to experience homesickness; after all, he misses his parents dearly because even though they weren’t the most astounding or perfection parents, they were still his parents. When this occurs, he’ll often seek out Dwayne or Star for comfort, sitting beside them, perched into their sides. They will attentively listen to him, reminding him of how much they themselves and the other boys love him and how they aren’t going anywhere. They all will be together forever. They’d even let him know that his parents and grandparents still love him too, even if he has a new family now.

Laddie unfortunately had to learn the hard way not to go to David about this specific predicament, because whenever he did, David would unintentionally guilt trip the kid about missing his parents. It wasn’t something he meant to do, it was just that David had never really had a home or a family that cared about him, his world before being a vampire was a dog eat dog world. You had to fend for yourself and choose your family. Even then he’d seen people get chewed out for trusting the wrong folks. So there’s a huge disconnection between the pair when it comes to familial things.

Whereas Marko and Paul will do things that will take Laddie’s mind right off of the down parts of being a missing child. They’ll happily play with him, get him his favorite food, read comics with him, steal said comics from the comic book store, maybe even let him help them tinker on their bikes, blast some gnarly music, you name it! They’re prepared to go all out in helping him feel happier where he is in the present and understand that he has a place with them.

Now, as for Laddie’s tantrums… well, every child has them. Usually they tend to be pretty humorous to Paul, Marko and David- that is until something happens to their precious stuff. To be fair he is an eight year old boy, of course he wants to mess with Paul’s Walkman or Marko’s bike keys! Paul nearly had an aneurysm when he saw Laddie accidentally ripped his mint condition 1965 Playboy Magazine.

"Dude who the fuck- my fuckin- WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!"

Laddie, who had been a bit spoilt from months of pampering from a group of enabling teenagers, showed minimal signs of remorse. "They were ugly anyway, she hand on granny panties or something."

Dwayne had to step in and hold Paul back from wringing the kids neck out like a wet dish towel!  "Dude, Paul he's a kid"

"I will eat you, you little turd!"

Once again, David cracks up frequently until Laddie begins to delve into his stuff also. It all began when he wanted to go for a ride and David being the more lazy member of the group had turned him down, especially in a much firmer tone the second time around. So what did the little shit do? Hide all of their keys to their bikes.

"Dude, where are my fuckin' keys," Paul hissed, digging through the cave like a tornado went through the damn thing. 

"Yours too?" Marko exclaimed his question, settling down the couch he had lifted onto the ground. “Mine vanished.”

David chuckled to himself, that was until he patted his pocket where his precious motorcycle keys had suddenly proved to be void of its contents. "Alright which one of you assholes stole my keys?!"

However that confrontation ignited an inferno of a tantrum from the small boy, who was so used to suddenly getting his way and now he was faced with the harsh reality of being told no. The boys should have really thought twice of enabling an eight year old boy! A fit from a kid can get ugly real quick, yet it’s a whole different story when that kid is an emotional half vampire that flips tables and screams at such a volume and octave that glass cracks. Star tends to primarily be a softer disciplinarian, she isn’t fond of the idea of yelling or smacking him, she’s much too gentle for that. Dwayne on the other hand, while preferring to approach things along the placid route, feels that sometimes it’s a necessary evil- while David just straight up thinks that a good smack on the mouth ought to settle him down.

Laddie is a thorn in their asses when he’s bored out of his mind, and the boys learned rather harshly and swiftly that having a little brother was not as fun as the Brady Bunch had it appear. This kid got into all their stuff, no matter how fool proof they made it, the kid always found a way! He would follow them excessively around the cave like a lost puppy, tell them the same story for HOURS on end, ask far too many questions that Marko would just blank the kid out with his music, only for Laddie to talk even louder! It was more than evident that the child had little concern over the fact that they were killers, he’d still happily pester them until they vamped out. In fact, he went out of his way to do that! The crazy little shit…

Laddie would climb on top of one of the many dust caked couches in the hotel right next to where David was reading and peek over his shoulder to get a noseful of whatever he was focused on. "Whatcha reading?" Laddie asked innocently, chin resting on the blonde vampires shoulder.

"....War and peace." David grumbled irately.

"What's that? It's big! It looks boring! Why are the words so tiny? What's it about? Who's the hero? Who's your favorite hero? Mine's batman! Well, I like Iron Man too but Batman has all the gadgets and stuff, and I like his cape but I guess you don't need a cape to be cool, but I like the cape anyway- I like Superman's cuz it's red, red's my favorite color. What's your favorite color? Well I mean red's super cool- oh but black! Black is really cool, i guess you probably like black too huh? I mean you wear it all the time, but really maybe it's cuz-" he had blabbered all of that out in one go without so much as a breath in between his sentences! And David selfishly wondered what the repercussions were on if he flew the kid onto a random cliff and left him there for several hours. He knew it probably couldn’t be good, but it was worth a try if he was ever going to catch a break and get this book finished! Not to mention the countless times that Paul’s thrown into the mix of things, David can’t stomach it and leaves the room because he can’t handle two obnoxious chatter boxes all at once. Star yelled at him once for hypnotizing Laddie to fall asleep because he wouldn't stop talking about Batman and Robin.

It’s obvious that Laddie tends to ride with Dwayne, and it’s because Dwayne is capable of ensuring that Laddie stays in one piece. If the kid had his way and rode with Paul… let’s just say that Laddie would be smeared road kill! And frankly, none of the other vampires trust Paul with the kid. Last time he rode with Paul, he was nearly flung forward when he went off of a steep ramp. Star almost slapped the smirk straight off of Paul’s face! Even Marko thought it was a bad move of Paul’s. So, it was a collective decision - minus Paul’s whining and bitching, in conjunction with Laddie’s pouting - that Laddie rode with Dwayne from now on.

When the boys were killed off one by one, Laddie was the only one who was saddened by this, because he had formed genuine bonds with his older brothers and even though they weren’t perfect, they’d kept their word to him and kept him safe. He was going to miss Paul and Marko playing with him and teaching him cool stuff about bikes and rock n’ roll. He’d even miss David and the way the man got irritated whenever he flitted about him. But the one he was surely going to miss the most was obviously Dwayne. Dwayne was like the older brother that Laddie had dreamed of ever since he was a kid. Dwayne had taken him under his wing and ensured that no one messed with him. He listened to him whenever he was homesick and was always super patient with him and just all around compassionate. Out of all of the boys, Laddie related to him the most. And now he was gone. Though each boy held a special place in his heart. As he left the Emmerson residence, he didn’t have the stomach to look at their dead bodies as he sniffled on his way out, tears streaming down his face. Although they hadn’t been the best to Star and sometimes weren’t the kindest to him, he knew that they had loved the pair of them and deep down, Laddie would always love them.

After the entire ordeal, Laddie decided he’d set foot on finding his parents again and sadly left Star behind. She reminded him a lot of the boys and she would always have a special place in his heart. Before he left he hugged the life out of her, staining her gypsy purple skirt with his tears as he thanked her for loving him and taking such good care of him. He promised her that he’d never forget her and he hoped she never would forget him. Star was heartbroken but also knew that it was best for Laddie to return to his parents and live his life out normally. She hoped he’d grow up to be everything wonderful in life and she assured him that he would remain important and ever present in her gentle heart. A long way down the line they met each other again and embraced like close siblings that hadn’t seen each other in centuries. They were much older now and wiser.

But back to the present, Laddie stumbled upon his mother on the BoardWalk that night, as though it were a miracle. The woman looked strikingly similar to Star, she was the woman that he had remembered from earlier on in his childhood, and he was truly overcome with joy. He got to see his father again which made him happy also. Although his parents couldn’t work things out, they managed to come to a steady agreement that they would have equal joint custody of Laddie, which was something that made things easier on him to adjust back to ordinary life. However, whilst he was missing, his beloved grandparents passed away, never having lost hope in Laddie being alive and returning home someday. Laddie missed them dearly but he adjusted as best as he could to his brand new life. He was never really the same after being with the boys and Star and losing them all, his parents were aware of the change but Laddie never discussed what had happened to him, only responding in vague statements or exclamations.

Somehow though, he found a way to keep in touch with Star, Michael, Lucy, Sam and the Frog brothers. They were all connected through these twisted and sad chain of events, and his bonds with them only deepened as he got older. Even Though they had remained adrift in life, Star, Sam, Lucy and Michael showed up for Laddie's graduation when he finally got through high school. Even still he remained in Santa Carla up until his graduation dinner out with the Emmersons, Star and even the Frog Brothers had shown up. Wandering for a moment on his own, his pace slowed until he came to a haunting stop.

Just beyond the tilt-a whirl, outside the arcade, he swore, parked on the boardwalk he could see a group of biker boys. As the 80s peeled away into the wild teenage rebellion of the 90s, their styles had altered. A blonde still sported a wild lion's mane, another had messy curls grown out. The platinum blonde one was the first to alert the other three of Laddie's gaze. The four grunge rockers sported bizarrely skeletal motorcycles, laughing with each other, now carrying mischievous smiles. Before he could even confirm the haunting visage of said familiar faces they vanished in a flurry of roaring engines. The last to leave looked at him with dark, haunting brown eyes. He could see under the guy's leather jacket and torn up Nirvana t-shirt jagged scar tissue around each of his limbs faded into bronze skin. They just looked at each other for what felt like a lifetime, and a wave of chills trickled down his back. The raven haired biker smirked at him, no malice in his grin. Only a soft farewell, proud even. And then he was gone. Laddie managed to take a deep breath in, silently turning on his heel to return to Star and Michael at the diner. When he got home he was applying to a few out of city colleges, somewhere away from his past.

#the lost boys #lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys david #lost boys paul #lost boys dwayne #lost boys star #lost boys laddie #laddie thompson #vampire #lost boys vampires #headcanon #lost boys head canon

[hpdabbles]

More unlikely Slytherin raising Harry?

Hubert fights to not roll his eyes as yet another woman flutters her eyelids at his uncle. She is leaning a little to close to the man, half draped over the table that the book store has set up for autographs. 

Another book signing where the lines were more there to lust after the author then read his work. Sitting in a chair a little ways behind Uncle Tom, Hubert tries not to fidget with impatience knowing it would be disgraceful of him to make a scene. 

He had a reputation to uphold. His uncle had raised him with proper manners and had been hiring tutors to insure he keep ahead of the richest school he was attended. He rubbed elbows with all the upper crust kids who his uncle taught to charm and mingle in. 

Hubert knew any slip up could be held against him in the world of the rich and famous which why he always keeps control of his body and actions, with great care.  

After all,  “A proper gentleman knew how to run a ball even without a ballroom”    So he sits with the proper poster and reads his own book- nothing he Uncle writes- about dragons and the wizard Merlin. (his Uncle has always made faces at any mention of Merlin) without so much of a hair out of place, emotions are carefully hidden by a pleasant relax mask.

The woman leans forward to give his uncle a chance to look down her shirt. Uncle Tom keeps his eyes politely on her face instead. 

A part of him wants to tell her it's hopeless because as far as he is aware his Uncle Tom hasn't found anyone attractive since Hubert was a baby. Though he had noticed the backward glances he uncle shoot a bloke that one time- however that couldn't have been for any reason. Hubert knows the lady will be forgotten as soon as she steps away, only to be replaced with another fawning woman wanted to sing his uncle writing false praise.

 They always did. Half of Uncle Tom's fans were more interested in the author then the stories he created. It wasn't too hard to see why, at thirty-two his uncle still seems attractive, young enough for a bride, rich enough to sustain a family for three generations and with the mannerism of a manor Lord, Uncle Tom had many women chasing him. It was rather sad sometimes. 

 Not that Hubert would ever point it out in public; a lady's reputation was easier to smear and harder to clean then a gentleman's and Uncle Tom made sure to raise a proper gentleman. Hubert was expected to act like that of his rightful standing, having come from a family of old money. Hubert didn't know too much about his family or the life his Uncle lead before his grandparents died.

The family was a touche topic for his uncle. 

In fact as far as his biological father went Hubert knew very little, since his guardian and father didn't part on the friendliest of terms. The last time they spoke was when his Uncle had been fifteen, one argument that went too far breaking the bond they had beyond any repair. 

 A few years later his father and mother had been killed during a house robbery, and Hubert had been the only known survivor, the murder still at large, along with the other cold cases of a seller killer that was running around the same time. The law enforcement believed that the incidents were connected but haven’t found anything in the last decade to prove it. 

He was handed over to Uncle Tom as his last living relative, having called the man in the dead of night. Upon learning he was now in charge of raising a child, his uncle had bought an old victorian house on a hill, - said to be haunted but his Uncle found it amusing people believed so.   

According to him, there was nothing floating around, and if there was a ghost they would know.  Uncle Tom had paid a small fortune to have the house rebuilt to its former glory, and Hubert grew in a what could as well been a mansion with its private land surrounded by a thick forest and its own small lake.

 The closest neighbors were a good forty-minute drive away, just as Uncle Tom like it. 

“In case we need to hide your accidental magic” Uncle Tom used to say back when Hubert believed in silly things like magic and Father Chrismas. “We can never be too careful”

His father would have adored it according to his uncle. Sometimes Hubert wonders if when he looked at him did he see the brother or the nephew but didn’t dare to voice the question. 

 He once asked what disagreement was about. His uncle had gone very quiet staring at the ring he keeps on at all times- not that Hubert knew why the thing wasn't even that valuable but he supposes he has never seen such an impressive carving of Sirius constellation on metal. "He didn't agree with the life choices I was making at the time. I thought he was picking a foolish path. In the end, we went our separate ways. It is my greatest regret."

 Hubert often wondered what Uncle Tom could have possibly done that his father disagreed so much with. He had a suspicion, after all, that one backward glance to the passing bloke was a one-time thing but it happened.

He didn’t feel very comfortable with the idea of coming from a man who didn’t tolerate same-sex love, so Hubert tried not to think about it. He would accept Uncle Tom regardless of who the man loved, he just needed to wait for the man to think him old enough to talk about it.

His parents' and grandparents' disapproval were no longer important. Jake and Rose Saiph were long dead anyway, it best to leave it at that. Even if Hubert wondered sometimes what it would have been like to have a mom and dad instead of an uncle.  

“Hello dear, who may I make this out to?” Uncle Tom greets a girl with bushy hair and buck teeth. Hubert is surprised to find someone his age in line since the story was fantasy but it was more geared towards young adults. Too many words.

“Hermione Ganger please sir” She squeaks looking like she was meeting a movie star. Her face is flushed, and she seems slightly shaken with star stuck eyes. The woman accompany her- her mother based off the similar features- isn’t fairing any better.  “Can I just say, sir, that I adore all your work? I read all your books, I’ve even got the special edition from Paris- and I was so excited about the newest release. I waited in line outside the book store for three whole hours!”

 Uncle Tom chuckles, signing the special edition that she must have specialized ordered with an elegant twirl of his wrist. Hubert is a little impressed by it, that copy had a fancier cover with accompanying illustrations on the inside of pages, it was also twice the regular price.  “Thank you very much for your support deary. My nephew could learn a thing or two of supporting this old man from you.” 

Suprise to have attention on him, Hubert easily plays if off by lifting his head and offering Ganger a winning smile, that he knows rings true to Uncle’s looks. As he suspected she stares before flushing bright red. He gives her a small nod and then locks eyes with her mother to do the same before responding “I support you, plenty uncle. I always make sure you turn in your manuscript by the deadline. Without me, there would be no books in Fallen Son.” 

Uncle Tom chuckles, which causes the female Gangers to crack a smile each. Poor dears wouldn’t last a day in the upper-class world. Much too open with their thoughts.  

The girl opens her mouth to say something, only to jerk in surprise as the ten balloons surrounding the table burst in loud pops, one right after the other, as if though someone had gone at them with a needle each.

A few people in line scream at the sudden noise and all the color drains from Ganger’s face. Her mother places her hands on her shoulders, face turning fiercely protective.  Hubert himself had jumped in his sit the closest of them all to them. 

Uncle Tom doesn’t even bat an eye the jerk. Standing to boy slightly at the whispering people “Terrible sorry about that ladies and gentlemen. I may have bought some defeated decorations in my effort to lighten up my nephew’s day.” 

His disregarding of the strange occasion ease the crowd into chuckles as if he had purposely set up exploding decoration for a prank seem like something normal. A perfect example of saying something with enough confidence it would appear true. 

Ganger’s face relaxes, some of the color returning but much more reserved than before. She no longer rocks on her heels or seems to burst from excitement anymore. 

 Hubert is quite surprised when Uncle returns her book he offers her a soft understanding smile.   “You are a very special young lady.” 

Now, what is this man up to? 

Ganger’s face has fallen “I’m Blaze”

Hubert knows that to the villain in Fallen Son, which he quickly corrects seeing his chance to win her favor.  “Blaze learned to control his abilities and became the general of the army. He was evil at first but he isn’t now. You could be the next general, don’t sell yourself short for a few strange happenings. Life would be boring that way.”

Ganger gives him a weak smile at that but she still flees all the same. 

When the two leave and the book signing finishes Hubert asks why his Uncle had bothered with attempting to gain the Ganger’s favor. 

“She will most likely be your classmate in Hogwarts. Best for muggle-borns to stick together and if we want your story to stick we must build up the illusion starting now- which reminds me, we must reapply your make-up the scar is peaking through.” Uncle answers as Joel- their chauffeur- drive them home kept behind glass to have their privacy.

Hubert rolls his eyes.  “Uncle Tom, I’m not a child anymore-”

“Are you above the age of twenty?”

“No”

“Then you are a child,” His uncle says with a slight smirk. Hubert fumes for a moment before calming down. When one raises their voice in a disagreement its because they are losing the argument. Hubert is not losing.

“Uncle Tom, I am not a foolish child. I don’t believe in magic-”

“How can someone from my own family say something so terrible? Of course, you believe in magic. We are magic, even if I don’t have a wand to show you. I am a pureblood and you a half-blood but we will masquerading as muggle-borns. You will be a second-generation, of course, but still considered muggle-born none the less. I know I told you all this when I went over all the changes your body was going through a year ago-”

“Thank you, Uncle Tom, we don’t have to bring that up!”  Hubert interrupts face burning. He refuses to think of that delightful “welcome to puberty” conversation when he turned ten. His Uncle had given it to him earlier than his classmates due to his “magic”. 

Sometimes he wondered if Uncle Tom was mad, because he honestly believed in magic and that somehow Hubert was a person named Harry who defeated a great evil that he used to follow. Rubbish.

At least he thought so until an owl delivered a letter at their house and Uncle Tom took it with great care.  “After so long, I’m finally going back. Come, Hubert, we have your supplies to buy.”

Hubert went with him, thinking it was for the secondary school only to be shocked when they entered a pub instead and thankful had his meltdown at home behind closed doors. He has just been in a hidden magic market place he thinks he deserves it  “Wait you mean you weren’t just making up bedtime stories for me? I really am magic and we were are hiding from wizard hit men!?  Is my whole life a lie?!”

“Not all of it. Just most.” 

“Uncle Tom are you even my uncle!?”

“.....Distantly. We’re more like cousins three times removed. The Potter and the Blacks have married but we are so inbred that-”

“STOP!”

#Anonymous #hpdabbles #Unlikely Slytherin raises Harry #Part 2 #Prompt night #Regulus Black raises Harry #Hubert Saiph #Tom Saiph #Hiding #fake identity #So Hubert who life is a lie #Regulus has told him about it all #He just lacks a wand #Harry raised a a proper nobelman

[19mrs-barnes17]

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Summary: You are a witch, but the Winchester don’t know just yet.

Part: 1/1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: angst-ish

Word count: 2,452

A/N: Just a lil something I wrote because I had time. Enjoy!

~

“Do you know what time it is?” The dark sky barely lit with a splattering of stars was hardly any help in illuminating your brand new stalker friend. The figure was a man but you knew better than that, he was more than a man and you had a feeling he was more than a stranger. He had been following for at least 3 blocks, through alleyways and across streets. You glanced at your phone and paused, glaring the man down with a rather tired expression. “It’s three in the morning. So if you’re going to attack you better hop to it.”

The figure freezes in place, almost as if they aren’t believing what they see and are waiting for the illusion to fade. However, the longer you stood tapping your boot on the pavement the more keen he seemed in resuming his previous activity. The moment he started to gain speed his hand extended, face momentarily illuminating beneath a streetlight. Your heart dropped into your stomach. 

“Damian?” He sped up a little but not enough to make a difference, he was nearly upon you when the shot rang out. It’s echo hauntingly familiar to your ears. You had feared the sound throughout your childhood, always waiting for the day they came for you. The racing of your heart and the dropping of his body stunned you into silence, eyes staring in shock. It didn’t surprise you to see it, but it did surprise you that it was your ex who had bitten the bullet. He was a pompous ass, but still… Something about seeing someone you used to care about drop dead messes with your mind. Especially when you were terrified you were next.

“Hey, you alright?” Through all the chaos inside your skull you hadn’t paid much attention to the man standing beside you, hand reaching out gingerly. Your eyes met a pair that held a mixture of color swimming in an ocean of green. They seemed to change depending on how he stood and the way the lighting hit, it was a tad distracting. He wasn’t aiming his gun at you but you still didn’t trust yourself to speak just yet, only allowing a single nod. 

“Well he’s down, she okay over there Sammy?” While the man next to you had ever changing glimmers in his green eyes, you were fairly certain you preferred this man’s. An indescribable deep green, one that surpassed a forest and the typical candy apple green, they were one of a kind. And he seemed to know it, his smirk appearing as he studied your gaze.

“She has a voice and a mind of her own.” He held up his hands and apologized before extending a hand and introducing himself. Dean Winchester. He called the man next to you Sammy… Oh, you were majorly fucked if they even began to suspect you for a minute. The Winchesters? Damn you Damian! You were a shit boyfriend and you’re shit at hiding from hunters. Now you’re terrible taste in men was coming to bite you in the ass. Real fantastic. He’s at least dead, you however still have to deal with the hunters before you.

“You got a name?” You eyed him with a flicker of curiosity running through your veins, debating if the truth would kill you. A shrug and an introduction later it turned out it didn’t. They hadn’t recognized your family name, so they weren’t familiar with the witch families. That was good.

“Well, um, thanks I guess? Asshole cheated and blamed me, and the whole time he was a…?” You trialed off feigning ignorance, if you were going to get out of this alive you needed a cover quick. Since you were hardly shaken up, the sight of something you had dealt with all your life, a hunter seemed the best one. 

“Witch. You a hunter?” And so you played along, answering their every question and thanking the stars that you hadn’t brought anything but your Tarot deck with you. Why do you have it? If anything you could tell them the truth, you grew interested in Tarot and its guiding capability when you were young. Why had they never met you or heard about you? You kept a low profile and typically worked alone. What got you in? You sort of grew up with the supernatural as a part of your life. None of it was a lie, but it wasn’t a direct answer either.

Thus began how your lie wove itself into a truth, how you had begun to hunt and especially with the two boys. Never would you admit to your family what you were up to, but they were either in a different country or dead so you didn’t exactly have anyone checking up on you. Your life was fairly like a solo adventure, off in the world by yourself. In any case, you never dealt with witch cases. If they recognized you it was game over. The little family you had would ostracize you, even if you were killing witches who were murderers. Your family didn’t interfere in the lives of innocent people, they stuck with their own kind and were peaceful. But that did not mean that they were fond of hunters, or that they would accept that you had become one. None of them would understand, they would say you chose the side of the enemy. That you chose the people who killed your parents, almost you and your older brother as well. 

You knew it was reckless mingling with hunters, especially the Winchester brothers who were infamous in the witch community. Hunters tended to shoot first and ask questions later, even the boys would do so. It didn’t matter how close you were to them, how much you cared nor how much they did. As soon as the veil was removed you feared they would not hesitate to drop you and put a bullet in your skull. So you kept it inside, hid it deep away and never even gave a reason to doubt. When you moved into the bunker you moved your ingredients and charms, all your witchcraft items so to speak, into a storage unit. You had taken a day to pack but in reality it only took an hour or so to get all your necessities together, the rest was spent hiding your true self away behind a steel door and a combination lock. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean sat on your bed holding your journal, fingers running across the pages solemnly and your mind immediately prepared for you to make a run for it. Fear crept into your heart, the aching of the betrayal on his face too much to handle. Your petrified eyes finally looked him in the eye and his gaze softened a little. The truth never should have made it onto those pages, but you had thought they respected your privacy enough to never look. It should have been under lock and key. “Why did you lie? Why keep up this charade?”

“None of it was a charade. I never actually said I was a hunter, just answered your questions vaguely enough with the truth so you wouldn’t kill me. What was I supposed to do Dean? Tell you I was a witch and watch as you shoot me? Feel the life drain from my body just as it did from my mother? From my father? Half my family has been slaughtered by hunters so please forgive me for not wanting to join them.”  

“You’re a witch. They were witches. Hunters find witches when they make themselves known, usually by killing someone. So I’m sure-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence because they almost killed a 7 year old girl that night. Her brother was only 10 years old and yet they seemed perfectly keen on murdering them in their beds where they slept soundly, still in the belief that their parents were alive. My family doesn’t interact with the outside world apart from normal things like grocery shopping. My mom had a gardening club for fuck’s sake. The only people they had a problem with were hunters who would shoot first, leaving their children parentless. But their solution was peace.”

“I-”

“You have a right to be pissed at me for not telling you something important about me. It could attract trouble, but you have no right to go after my family as if yours is a picture perfect example. You don’t know if you’ve orphaned children, so don’t come to the difference of a pair of murderers. I’ll pack my things if you’ll give me the chance of a head start.” Off you went to pack your life away again, a lump in your throat and a tightening in your chest.

"I thought…" Dean cleared his throat as he watched you stuff the duffle bag you had found. “I thought that you were one of us.”

Your body froze, the clothing in your hands dropping into the bag as a sigh passed through you. When you regained control you tilted your head to look at the man in the doorway, the one that it hurt the most to disappoint. The one you had grown closest to, despite all your common traits with Sam. You were infatuated with Dean Winchester but that was always a distant dream, but it hurt nonetheless to see it crumble. 

“I know it's the cliché sentence to say but I am still me, I swear I am. The only difference is now I can be more detailed when I talk about my family. What’s left of them anyway…” His gaze softened, he knew too well the feeling. “So I know witchcraft, there it is. It’s not something I chose just like hunting wasn’t something you chose. We’re more alike than you may realize, but I get it. You’re the hunter and I’m the monster. At least... give me a head start.”

His brow knitted, almost like he forgot that this meant he had to hunt you. Dean took a few steps forward until he was at the base of your bed and took a seat. He sighed softly before grabbing the bag and dumping it back onto the bed, the action left you stunned and utterly baffled. 

“I won’t do it.” You arched a brow as he grabbed the bag and tossed it out the door in one fell swoop. The action begged the question of why, and he simply gazed into your eyes fervently.

“Do what? Give me a head start?” He shook his head but before you could protest he began to fold your clothing and set it back in drawers, the wrong ones but that wasn’t important. “What are you doing?” He simply gestured for you to give him a minute, so there you stood watching as he put all your things back where they belonged. Or close enough anyway. 

“I should be livid. You kept something huge from us, how were we to know you weren’t evil if you were keeping secrets. I know we unknowingly guided your fib but you could have clarified before moving in here. And yet…” He turned to you with his hands held out, you were too wary to hold them, scared he was tricking you. Dean gently grabbed your hands in his, thumb caressing the back of your hand. “Hell, I don’t know if I could ever bring myself to kill you. Even if you did turn on us.”

“I would never. You two are the closest I’ve come to family in a long time.” Dean smiles softly, pain lingering in his eyes. “I never meant to get into this mess. Honestly, I thought I’d die before I turned 18 and when I met you two I was terrified that long held fear would come true. I never expected to care about either of you.”

There was a long pause of silence, you tried to decipher his meaning behind keeping you in the bunker and he seemed to be searching for the answer as well. Dean’s gaze stayed on yours, neither of you moving until it became too much for you to stare into those eyes. A question was eating away at you and you couldn’t help but ask it.

“Why let me stay, why not let some hunter stumble upon me and take care of the problem for you?” Dean visibly tensed, his eyes darkening a bit at the idea.

“Because I love you, damn it.” Your jaw dropped, brows raised as shock overtook your expression. “I know I’m supposed to want to kill you, but instead I want to protect you. I would fight another hunter to keep you safe and that goes against everything my dad taught me. Hell it goes against everything I know. But I’d rather have you in my life than risk losing you so I can keep to my principles.”

“Even though I’m…” He nodded, a hand caressing your cheek. “You know you sound like Mr. Darcy right now.”

“What now?”

“Against your better judgement you care. It’s very Pride & Prejudice.” Dean’s expression was perplexed to say the least.

“Is… that a good thing?”

“For the scene? No, it was rather offensive. But I know what you meant.” You took a step back and looked him dead in the eye, losing your jesting mood. “Are you sure? My family has no idea I hunt, and I have no issue with that but you won’t be able to keep this a secret from other hunters forever.” 

“Screw whoever says we can’t be the exception.”

“If we can change our minds maybe over time some others might see things differently. I used to think hunters were all just murderers and you thought the same of witches.” Dean nodded in agreement, it was true, both of you had despised one another’s people. 

“And yet, I don’t want to think what I’d be like without you. My life is infinitely better when you are in it, witch or not.” 

“If someone had told me I would end up with a hunter one day, I probably would have called them crazy. You aren’t what I expected a hunter to be like, you’re much more... compassionate.” He has a dopey grin on his face as he holds you close in his arms. “Don’t let that go to your head Winchester.”

“I’ll try not to.” Dean swept you into his arms, carrying you over to your bed before placing you down.

“So that’s why you folded my laundry. Very sneaky Winchester.” He smirked before leaning into a kiss, hands beginning to roam.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

~

Tags: @qtmeryr​ @broken-hearted-barnes​ @asphalt-cocktail​ @gstran18​ @cantnkrusshedevil​

#supernatural #spn #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #witch!reader #angsty i guess

[princeescaluswords]

Murder Can Hurt You

One of the accusations in fandom that gives me the most confusing moments is the accusation that Scott is somehow responsible for the deaths caused by villains that he doesn’t execute when he defeats them.  

Here’s a quote from a reply to one of my posts.

You sort of bend this into a semantics argument of “second” vs “third” chances, when really another chance suffices. And they get the idea from canon where it happened.

Keeping Gerard alive resulted in the deaths of others, The same is true of Monroe. He also showed mercy to the Darach, it was Peter who finished her. You also forgot the twins which were met with mixed feelings. Many didn’t like their inclusion because they killed Boyd, the other bipoc character in case you’d forgotten. I would also say it’s arguable that Deucalion turned his life around when really his actions still led to deaths. He was already at odds with himself and we never see him completely rehabilitated.

I think the author and writing is insincere, but I’ll take it at face value for purposes of this discussion.

My first problem is the implication that somehow Scott’s reluctance to deal out death in judgement is not only immoral but also weird.  I don’t know what culture they thought Scott grew up in, but murder is considered a pretty heinous act with serious repercussions in the United States culture in which Teen Wolf is set.    Premeditated murder is not seen as justified, even revenge murder, in our modern times.  

Scott had even more reason to resist the use of killing as a tool than most others.  The entire first season he was scared, warned by Stiles and Derek that he now had a blood lust on which he must be constantly on guard against.  The alpha attempted -- through mind control and extortion -- to turn Scott into a lethal weapon against the alpha’s enemies.  To make him a killer.

And then, when seeking a way out of this nightmare -- and it was a nightmare even after an asthma cure and making first line, as if that somehow makes up for being hunted, tortured, and violated -- he was told that the only way for him to reclaim his life was to kill the one who bit him.  (It was a lie, but you can’t expect a 16-year-old who didn’t even think that werewolves were real a month before to know that.)  So, Scott was forced into a position where he thought that the only way for him to be free of blood lust, of mind control, of being hunted, of the loss of autonomy, of horror was to kill the person responsible for his condition.   

To me, the foundation of Scott’s heroism is that he decided, with every reason to pursue violence, to reject “murder is the only answer” solutions.  In fact, Scott’s growth in rejecting murder as a solution became a controlling theme of Season 2 and Season 3 -- “I’m not like you,” Scott says to Deucalion, “I don’t have to kill people.”

It seems that the present contention is this -- did Scott have a responsibility to execute others for their past crimes?  Did Scott have a responsibility to preemptively murder people to protect others?   

The production’s answer is, I believe, obvious to the casual observer.  Revenge solves nothing.  Peter and Deucalion and Gerard were locked in a spiral of violence which begot more violence -- all their revenge killings led to was more danger and death.  Peter, Jennifer, Monroe, and Meredith didn’t protect anyone with their purges and sacrifices -- all their preemptive killing led to was more danger and death.  The psychic costs of murder -- for Jackson, for Stiles, for Malia, for Scott, for Liam -- were portrayed as simply too high a price to pay for an emotional catharsis and an illusion of justice and safety.   

Let’s take Gerard Argent.  Scott was willing to resort to potentially lethal means to stop Gerard from killing Derek, his mother, his friends, and Scott’s own self.  That was Scott’s motivation in Season 2.  He wasn’t seeking revenge for others, and he wasn’t in a position to demand justice.   When it was over, an enfeebled Gerard needed a wheelchair to get around and was virtually imprisoned in a rest home.  Scott’s goals had been fulfilled; the people he wanted to protect were protected.  There was no need for execution or preemptive killing.  

How could he possibly be responsible for Gerard’s future crimes?  How could he imagine that a crippled Gerard would somehow be miraculously healed and then become a threat once more.  If someone is sent to jail, serves his sentence, and then breaks free and kills again, is the legal system responsible for his new crimes?   Yet people seem to be arguing that Omega Scott needed to kill a human being in Master Plan for the good of -- we’re not entirely sure.  (I do notice, however, that Derek and Peter are absolved from this crime completely -- even though Peter was doing absolutely nothing while Gerard crawled away from the warehouse and Derek was the alpha.)   Why was it specifically Scott’s responsibility to execute Gerard?  In Apotheosis, Chris literally told Scott that he would take care of his father. 

When it comes to Monroe, I think the author means that Scott gave Monroe a chance when he tried to talk to her in the tunnels.  Scott was seeking a non-violent solution, true, because he didn’t want anyone else to die.  That’s a bad thing?   By this point, he knew that Monroe was Gerard’s protege and that she was very well armed.  Did the fandom want Scott to lead his six-person pack against her and her hunter army like the Charge of the Light Brigade?   What’s telling (and hilarious) is that Scott attempted just that in Pressure Test (6x14). Scott was willing to lead a charge of his own pack against Monroe and her men, but they were stopped by the sheriff.

What his other choice?   Tear her apart in her office during a school day?   If that’s true leadership, why don’t they complain about the Sheriff not gunning her down in his office when she challenged him?

Let’s talk about the twins.  Fandom obviously had a problem with Scott not putting them down like rabid dogs, but the whole point was that such an act wouldn’t bring Boyd back.  (And they don’t complain about Derek not hunting them down, either).  On the other hand, Scott didn’t let Aiden and Ethan into his pack.  He did employ them when they could useful, but in the end they remained omegas.  Remember, Derek said in The Divine Move  “ You've been trying to find a way into his pack. Trying to earn his trust, trying to fight for him.”  They were never actually pack.

Did fandom really want Scott to walk up to Ethan and straight-up execute him after Ethan had helped saved Derek from Kali?  Did they want Scott to drive them away immediately so they couldn’t help save Stiles?   Yes, they helped kill Boyd, and they were rewarded with distrust and for Aiden, death.  But not at Scott’s hand.

As for Deucalion, the production literally had him actively trying to make up for his actions, first by sending Braeden to rescue Derek from the Calaveras.  Then they had Deucalion work with Scott to deceive Theo.   Josh and Tracy didn’t die because Scott and Derek didn’t execute Deucalion in Lunar Ellipse.  That was Theo’s doing -- and only Theo’s doing.  Deucalion did not take extra steps to protect Josh and Tracy, his kidnappers, but neither did he encourage Theo’s murder of them.  Eventually, Deucalion refused to participate in a fight against Monroe, who would be coming for him, more worried about his soul than his life.  Then again, he did train Scott to fight the Anuk-Ite.  In what way was he not rehabilitated?  

Teen Wolf was consistent in showing the costs of vengeance and murder as a tool in securing safety and stating, clearly, that this cost was too high. As they should have.   And the embodiment of that principle is Scott McCall.

#teen wolf meta #teen wolf fandom problems #scott mccall defense squad #murder #decadence