#it’s about how the show lost its teeth about fatherhood right when it needed them most. and it still gives some bangers! but. this big one. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

glacecakes · 3 years

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The Life and Times of a Tiny Alchemist (1/?)

A series of oneshots set in the universe of Alchemy Lullaby (or, Dadgene and baby Varian). Eugene, Rapunzel, and Varian's life as a family, and the people who helped make it happen.

Current: Set post AL. Quirin adopts a young boy of his own, and bonds with the parents of his son's best friends.

I return! With more baby! There's never enough, all praise be unto him I have no idea how long this series is gonna be, tbh, the 5 is just a placeholder. I may post 20, I may only do 3. Who knows! Not me! I do have a lot of ideas though, lol. Reading AL (link in rb) is highly recommended, but you don't have to if you don't want to. TLDR Eugene adopts Varian, Ulla was a jerk and she's dead now. Hooray! Some of these will be cowritten by the lovely Finnoky who I love very much uwu

Ben is owned by @finnoky and @aj-illustrated :) he's Quirin's adopted son and he is a mini menace. I love him.

Quirin fidgeted awkwardly from where he stood across from to Eugene. It was weird to be back in the palace after… everything. Varian was still afraid of him, and he didn’t blame him at all. Neither did he blame Eugene giving him a distrusting look. But he wasn’t the main focus here. No. The focus was on a small figure currently staring Varian down.

If Varian was small for his age, Ben was even smaller. Though to be fair, Ben was younger; Varian had just turned five, if he remembered correctly, while Ben was still four. His curly black hair and cool brown skin stood out against the others of Dark Kingdom descent, but to Quirin, he was going to fit right in just fine. After all, both he and Varian had a common background.

Following the… incident in Old Corona, Quirin had taken permanent residence. It felt weird to live in what remained of Ulla’s old house, but the farm life suited him better than he’d thought. Almost as if it was what he should’ve done. Well, no use thinking of the past, he told himself. Only looking forward from here on out. Perhaps that’s what drew him to the Corona orphanage.

Varian wasn’t his son, not anymore, he’d accepted that. But now that he had the idea of fatherhood in his mind, he couldn’t let it go. He wanted to raise a child, wanted to be a father. So he’d trekked down and found Ben, with his button nose and roguish charm. The fact that he was Varian’s age was merely a coincidence, but perhaps the first step to repairing relations could be for the two to meet.

“So…” Eugene drawled, smacking his lips together. An awkward silence ensued. Honestly, what are you supposed to do in this situation? It felt a bit like Quirin had just grabbed a kid in an attempt to win Varian’s trust, but that’s not right… right? Quirin’s not that kind of guy, after all.

Then again… Eugene didn’t see him as the type to hurt Varian, but here we are.

“So.” Quirin hummed. Varian clung a bit closer to his dad when he spoke, fear clouding his baby blue eyes. To be fair, Ben was nervous too, his hands shaking where they were bunched into Quirin’s pants.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Eugene raised a brow, and Quirin startled.

“Oh! Yes. This is Ben, he’s four years old, and he’s going to be staying with me for a while.” He smiled down at the little boy. “Ben, this is Eugene and his son, Varian. Varian’s your age!”

Ben pouted, eyes narrowing in on Varian. Who was this kid? What made him so special that New Dad wanted them to meet? “Hi,” He mumbled, and Varian waved back shyly.

“Why don’t you two go play, hm?” Quirin’s eyes are warm, perhaps a bit overeager. “I’m sure you’ll get along.”

“I mean maybe,” Eugene muttered, but nonetheless pushed Varian forward gently. “Why not show Ben around the castle, hm? I need to talk to Quirin.”

Varian whimpered, squeezing his dad’s leg briefly. It was a small sign, a plea for him not to go. But he still let go, toddling over to Ben. The two shared eye contact, before he grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him into the pristine halls he called home, away from the man who they both might have called dad.

“You wanna meet Ruddiger?” Varian asked, leading Ben down the hall towards his room. The kid was a few inches shorter than him, but his poofy hair was tall enough to compensate.

“What’s Ruddiger?” Ben said.

“My best friend!” Varian chimed, more chipper now that he was talking about something he enjoyed. “Well, outside of Hugo. But he’s different.” The younger opened his mouth to ask, but then shut it. Whatever, he didn’t really care all that much.

The castle was massive, nearly overwhelming in stature. How it dwarfed them, nearly swallowed them! Ben’s eyes kept wandering around, from the shadows cast by windows to the ironed carpet floor. How could anyone live like this? He loved his current home, its small farm feel. But Varian seemed right at home. Of course he would be, with his neat hair, and fancy outfit, stupid nice smile and friendly demeanor-

He’s cut out of his thoughts when a striped blur bounces into Varian’s arms. It wraps around Varian’s neck, purring, and suddenly all Ben’s concerns melt away. A raccoon! He loved raccoons!

“Can I pet him?” He whispers, starstruck. At Varian’s nod, he runs a hand through soft fur and squeals in delight.

He changed his mind, Varian rocks.

“So…” Varian says shyly, feet rocking back and forth. “Why did Quirin bring you here?”

“I dunno!” Ben chimed, giving Ruddiger a tummy rub. “New Dad said he wanted to show me off. Or something like that.” He shrugged. He didn’t actually pay attention to what New Dad said (he’d actually wanted Ben to make a friend). I mean, he was pretty great, in his opinion. So it was a logical assumption!

Varian frowned. “New dad…?”

“Yea! Cuz I had a dad before, but this one is new! And the best!”

“Really? Me too!”

“REALLY!?”

Varian nodded. “My dad is new, too! Quirin was my old dad.” Well, Eugene was his first dad, then Quirin, then Eugene again, but that wasn’t important.

Ben frowned. Quirin was Varian’s old dad? Did that mean he gave Varian up? Would he give Ben up, too? He didn’t want that! He liked New Dad! There had to be another explanation…

“Maybe he just didn’t like you.”

Varian gasped. “He liked me a lot! He took me from daddy because he liked me so much!”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d he give you up?”

“Why’d he adopt you? To replace me?”

Oh he did not just go there! Ben grit his teeth and glared up at the older kid, who was pouting down at him.

Ben stood up.

And lunged.

“To clarify, you didn’t adopt Ben to replace Varian?”

Quirin narrowed his eyes in anger. “I’m offended you would think that at all.”

Eugene raised his hands in defense. “I’m just making sure! I’ve seen it happen! Don’t want Ben to get left behind, you know?” It had only happened a few times, but it always stuck with the kids at the orphanage. Someone would come and scoop up a kid, trying to fill a hole in their heart, only to drop them back off when they were too much work or not enough like the kid they lost. It sucked. Why not just get a dog in that situation?

“Of course not. Varian opened my eyes to being a father, sure, but Ben is… special,” he smiled at the thought of him. “Such a silly boy.”

Eugene opened his mouth to respond when a shriek cut him off. It sounded like a young boy! Both fathers completely forgot what they were talking about and raced off in the direction it came from.

“That’s Varian!” Eugene cried, skidding to a stop in front of Varian’s room. He threw open the door, and both men gawked.

Ben had pinned Varian to the ground, hollering and hooting out war cries as he tugged on Varian’s hair. Varian screamed bloody murder and slammed his fists into Ben, grabbing at whatever skin he could find.

“Not again, Ben,” Quirin moaned.

You’d think that after that debacle, they wouldn’t put Ben and Varian together again.

You’d be wrong.

Because about a week later, Varian had tugged on his dad’s pants and asked, “Can we go see Benny?”

Eugene had raised an eyebrow. “You mean Ben and Quirin? I thought you hated him?”

“No!” Varian whined. “He’s fun. He makes me cry.” Eugene didn’t understand it at all, but he supposed if Varian wanted a relationship with his birth dad and his son, he couldn’t really deny him. So they’d started weekly playdates, alternating who travelled where.

The knight (or, well, former knight) was still getting used to his new routine. At dawn he’d get up to help the people of Old Corona, then start on his own farmwork. He started small, just tending to the crops Ulla had. Around midmorning Ben would join him, playing with the wooden sword he’d gifted the lad. It was around then, on a crisp spring morning with sweat lacing his brow and the earth warm at his feet, that he heard his son squeal in delight.

“Varian!” Ben cried, running over, lugging his sword behind him. “Look! New Dad got me a sword!” With a heave he brandished it, holding it high above his head. Unfortunately, he was top heavy, and both boy and sword fell to the ground. Varian laughed, standing over his new friend. Ben pouted up at him, tears budding in his eyes. He whined, and Quirin dropped his farm tools at the sound. His feet carried him over to where he feared Ben was about to burst into tears.

The whines abruptly stopped and Ben started to laugh, joining Varian. He reached up and pulled Varian down into the dirt alongside him, prompting more giggles.

Eugene stood nearby and shrugged.

“Is this normal?” Quirin asked, flabbergasted.

“Don’t ask me, man! I’m just as lost as you.”

“I… Maybe they’re just like this?”

“Yea that’s the working theory.” Eugene let out a breathless laugh. The boys had taken to wrestling, rolling around in the earth like a tumbleweed.

“Boys!” Quirin called, and they stopped to look up. He smiled fondly. It warmed his heart to see. Varian wasn’t his, he knew that. But that didn’t mean he didn’t care deeply. And to see both of the children getting along so well? It filled him with more joy than he’d had in years.

He motioned for them to wait a second, running inside before grabbing his prize. Good thing he’d thought to buy a second for himself. Varian’s face lit up when he reemerged with an identical wooden sword.

The knight leaned down, digging the sword point into the ground. “Can I trust you two not to hurt each other?” He asked. Varia nodded violently. “Alright,” He almost said son out of instinct, though he doubted that would go over well. He held the toy out as if he was a knight suiting up his king. In a funny way, he was.

Varian snatched it up, running over to where Ben waited. He let out a shrill scream before jumping at him with the sword, completely ignoring what Quirin had just said.

Ben shrieked, dodging just out of the way in time. He raised the sword high, this time leaning forward in order to fall towards Varian. Their wooden swords collided with a donk .

“Surrender!” Ben yelled, a feral grin on his face.

Varian’s face was just as unhinged with glee. “Never! I will avenge… uh…” He looked over to Eugene, who had walked over to join Quirin in the peanut gallery. “Dad! Can I avenge you?”

“Sure,” Eugene responded.

“I will avenge my daddy!” The little prince cheered. It wasn’t a graceful fight, considering how young they were. It was mostly just two wooden blocks smacking together over and over, with the occasional changing of positions. But the boys seemed to have a blast, and that was enough.

“So,” Eugene hummed. Maybe it was the castle staff rubbing off on him, maybe it was that “parent” drive for gossip. Honestly it could be either one. “How is Ben settling in?”

“See for yourself,” Quirin smiled, gesturing to where Ben was chasing Varian through the orchard. “He’s got a warrior’s spirit, that’s for sure. Lots of energy,” his face fell slightly. “He only uses it when he doesn’t think I’m looking, or when he’s outside. It’s like he’s afraid of messing up and upsetting me.”

“Yea, orphanages are pretty strict, he’s probably just getting a feel for the new rules,” Eugene stuck his hands in his pockets. “Varian was the same.”

“Really?”

“Yea, for a few weeks he was terrified of anyone that wasn’t me or Rapunzel.” His smile turned wistful. “Or you, actually.”

Quirin sighed, a bittersweet sound. “I’m just… glad he’s happy,” he managed. Neither of them had really talked yet, about Ulla, or the moonstone, or really… anything about their situation. Perhaps someday they’d be ready. But for now, this was enough.

Quirin wasn’t the only single parent in Corona. Hell, he wasn’t even the only foreigner who knew Ulla and then adopted.

Hugo and Ben probably wouldn’t have gotten along on their own. Hugo was a know-it-all, mischievous, and used his cuteness to his advantage. Ben was stubborn, a stickler for rules, and brutally honest. If they had been left alone, someone probably would’ve gotten hurt. Whether it be one of the boys, or a bystander, that was up for debate.

But they both adored Varian, and Varian adored them. So it was pretty easy for them to form an inseparable trio.

Both Quirin and Donella walked their boys to the castle, watching with amusement as Hugo tried to show Ben what he was reading for the week. It was cute how Hugo adored school, though he wondered how long that would last. Ben was in turn telling Hugo all about the frog he saw in the fields last night.

“It was huuuuge!” He insisted, racing a bit ahead. “Like the size of Ruddiger!”

“Nuh uh!” Hugo pouted. His little ponytail whipped around as he shook his head. “Frogs aren’t that big!”

“Are too!”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“How big do you think a raccoon is?” Donella butt in, amused.

Ben shrugged. “Big. Maybe like…” he holds his hands out so wide that he almost strains his shoulders. “This big?”

“But if he was that big, we couldn’t pick him up?” Hugo argued. That causes Ben to falter. For a moment his father feared a real argument, but instead Ben lights up and laughs.

“Hugo, you’re stupid! We can’t pick him up!”

“You mean you can’t, cuz you’re a baby.”

Ben shrieks in offense, but still retains a smile. The conversation quiets significantly after that.

“So,” Donella said, turning to Quirin. “It appears we have a lot in common.”

Quirin groaned. If it were up to him, no one would have ever learned about his past; about Varian’s parentage, the woman who tricked him, and her inevitable downfall. But the royal family wasn’t one for secrets (well, except for Frederick). They didn’t tell the entire story, that would be ridiculous, but rather simply said that Ulla had kidnapped Varian and Quirin assisted them in stopping her. The only ones who knew the full story were those directly involved… and those who knew Ulla firsthand. “Is this about our boys, or our ex?”

She smirked. “It was fairly easy to put two and two together. Ulla is… was… something else.” Donella scratched at her scar, an unfortunate habit she picked up. “When we parted ways, I thought my stay in Corona would just be temporary. I’d lay low in the one place she’d never go, and then head back to the Iron Kingdom. Clearly, that didn’t happen.” Her face fell to a frown, squinting at the too bright sun and unpolluted streets. Some shopkeeper waved at them, and Donella simply rolled her eyes. The blinding palace sparkled in the sun as they approached, and part of her lamented not bringing her work goggles, as they might have provided some protection. Over half a decade later and she still wasn’t used to this place.

“What changed?” the farmer asked.

Her eyes fell to their sons.

“Oh.”

“Varian!” Both boys cried in unison. Varian stood in the courtyard, bouncing up and down where he stood. With a fond smile, Eugene let go of his hand, and all three slammed into one another, mouths moving a mile an hour.

“Varian I saw a frog!”

“Well I brought a book! And Mr. Finn says I’m at a 3rd grade level! Whatever that means!”

“And I saw a frog!”

“Well I saw a duck!”

“REALLY?”

“It was a goose,” Eugene corrected. “Hi Don, hi Quirin,” he waved.

Varian giggled, dragging his best friends inside while they continued to talk. His cheeks were a bright red, Hugo was smiling so hard it had to hurt, and Ben eagerly ran circles around the older kids.

He and Donella left to run errands in the capital, leaving their boys in good hands. When he came back, groceries and supplies for his new home in hand, he was directed to a small living room.

The room looked like it had been torn apart, with toys and books and games strewn about. Some were still open, others not even out of their packaging. A fire dimly flickered in the fireplace, illuminating a quiet scene in the center of the wreckage. All three boys slept on the floor, oldest to youngest. Hugo and Varian were holding hands, with the older facing the younger as he snoozed. Varian was smiling in his sleep, his ebony hair reflecting the flames. To his left Ben was passed out, one arm on top of Varian’s stomach, and one of Varian’s legs atop Ben’s. A soft burgundy blanket covered them all.

“It’s cute, right?” Eugene whispered as he approached. “I half expected them to set the place on fire.” Quirin snorted.

“You’re just in time, the first meeting about childcare reform starts soon.” The prince consort continued, motioning for him to leave the boys be.

He beamed. He may no longer be Quirin, knight of the Dark Kingdom, protector of the moonstone. Now he was Quirin, farmer, father, advisor to the royal family and newly-formed Child Protective Services.

He liked this Quirin better.

“So,” he said. “Lead the way.”

#varian #tangled the series #tts #tangled #tts varian #eugene fitzherbert #tts eugene #team awesome #varian and the seven kingdoms

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years

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@mega-aulover I made you a quick fic Happy Birthday again

Name of it ( thinks of one) Baby steps...

This is about Peeta becoming a father and his journey though fatherhood. Now I know how you recently lost your own father so this is another somewhat honor thing for him as well. I hope you like it... Hope you don’t cry to much But it is okay if you do I personally had a hard time not tearing up a bit writing this.

Now it is a little rough but I made it quickly it could use a bit of clean up... But I wanted to get this out for you

She shows me the Positive test . She is pregnant I am going to be a father.. This is our first child together...I go and talk to her belly and say hello I am going to be your daddy.. She thinks I am crazy but allows me. But she is just laughing at me… She tells me “well 9 months from now you will get to meet this child”… I laugh and say “ I can wait”. We Do make an appointment to make she she is pregnant and the baby is doing well. I am giddy as I leave for work that day. I tell my coworkers and every customer.. I tell them “ My wife Is pregnant”.. they all look at me like I am crazy.

I keep thinking of how I will be a father. The doctor appointments go well. Katniss gets bad morning sickness. But I am there all the steps of the way she has crazy cravings If she wants I try to get or make some combos are weird but I don’t judge.. I read some parenting books in my spare time. Katniss says it’s a waste of time maybe it is but I want to be ready… Being first time parents for the both of us we are excited. Katniss’s belly is growing everyday.

Around 21 weeks we find out the gender of the baby. Well its not until 22 weeks because Katniss’s sister Prim is throwing us a gender reveal party. Nothing big but small… for our close friends and Family The day comes and of course I bake all the goodies for the party… My coworker makes the cake But Lets me decorate it I have no clue what colour will be inside… Katniss and I cut into the cake and the colour is pink… We are both so excited… we would have been happy with either boy or girl…But I know one thing my little girl will be spoiled she will have her way to get her way with me… How do I know that now Because this little girl will be like her mother and she knows how to.

We set up her nursery lots of pink for her. It just happened that way. Katniss’s parents buy a lot of clothes for us. Some were Katniss’s old baby clothes… I paint some flowers on the wall…

One day we are just watching a show and suddenly Katniss moves off me and tells me the baby is kicking and asks if I want to feel… That is when it hit me for real it was like I was in a dreamland before… I say stumbling “ wow.. Uh... sh.. she is really in there”… Kantiss looks at me like I said something stupid… and says “ Really Peeta Mellark, you with smooth words are now stumbling” I laugh and say “ I guess this baby left me speechless” I lean in and Kiss her and she tells me “ for someone so speechless you are saying a lot of words”...Before I can speak it is her who kisses me to stop my words…

Katniss has a few contractions we go to the hospital and they tell us to go home because the baby is not ready yet…

I walk in after work and Katniss is standing in the kitchen with a puddle around her… she says “ I thought I was having a bad contraction and next thing I know my water broke, It happened a minute ago”… I tell her “ we need to get you to the hospital”…. I walk right out of the door Katniss still standing at the door “ Am I coming to she asks”.. Right I say in my head and go and get her and guide her towards the car “ Okay honey don’t walk to fast”… Katniss looks at me “ You are treating me like I am about to burst”. Well the baby could come anytime so she just might…On the walk to the car that is about 2 feet away we have to stop a lot so Katniss can have a contraction and when it’s over we move on… She was literally in the doorway when one hit of the house… When we reach the car I open her door and buckle her in… she says “ Peeta do you have the baby bag” Crap I knew I forgot something. On our last appointment the hospital did help us figure out the car seat so that’s already in.. I walk back into the house and grab the baby bag and walk back to the car. When I get there she is having another contraction I ask her “ Have you been timing those”… She looks me dead in the eye and says “ No I am just winging it over here or course I have that was 2 minutes apart from the last one”… I drive fast enough that Katniss is not telling me faster… we Arrive to the hospital and Katniss is in a room before we know it… Seeing her in pain is hard for me… All I can do is let her hold on to me.. The doctor comes in and says “ ready to have a baby” if Katniss’s glare could kill she says “ No I am just here because I really like hospitals”… The doctor gives me a look and I just smirk. I want to tell him “ That is nothing buddy you should see her at home” But I keep quiet.. They check on the baby say everything looks good… Katniss is in active labor…. When she feels it’s time she is holding onto my hand so tight it hurts but I let her… I support her though it. The delivery nurse says I see the head Katniss you are doing so well one more Push.. She is screaming out of pain this whole time and gives one more push… Then I see my daughter who is crying… They put her on Katniss she is beautiful and perfect to me. I cut the cord and they take her to clean her up and make sure everything is okay… Then I hold her for the first time… She has my blue eyes and Katniss’s hair colour. She has my nose and Kantiss’s lips… I cannot stop looking at her… I am whiping tears away from my eyes I ask Katniss “what do you want to name her?” she Answers “Everleigh. Her name is Everleigh” She looks at me and asks “ Do you have a middle name?”… I tell her “ Raine”… Katniss says “ Everleigh Raine I like it”.. Me still holding Everleigh I ask her “ Like your name”… I am wiping tears from my eyes I tell her “ I am your daddy”.. and I give her a kiss on the cheek… Katniss and I spend a few hours with Everleigh before family and friends come to see her… I am handing her to family members as they come and visit. I am surprised when My brothers and father comes and see her…

A few days later we leave the hospital Katniss is healing well. We bring Everleigh back for appointments… We go home and start our new life as parents… Katniss carries her into the nursery and sets her down in the crib….I walk over at her… Everleigh sleeps though the nights. Sometimes we wonder what we got out ourselfs into but say we wouldn’t change it.

Soon she is crawling Walking and Talking hitting all the milestones… Her baby teeth are coming in. Some nights she keeps us up and some she sleeps though. I remember her first steps Katniss brought her to work and we sat on the floor trying to get her to walk between us and she took her first step… and for the record her first word was dada as much as Katniss says no it was wasn’t. she is growing way to fast Katniss tells me not to blink and I will miss it..

Next thing I know she is 5 years old. She now has a younger brother… Katniss and I bring Everleigh to school for her first day.. Her hair is in 2 braids and she wears a red plaid dress like I recall Katniss wearing on her first day of school… Ev is a little shy but she warms up pretty quick.. I am fighting back tears my baby girl is growing up too fast for my liking.. It seems like last week she was only taking her first steps

She is now 16 Where did time go. I Have 4 kids now. Everleigh is still my little girl she will forever be… And same with my other daughter Oakley… My two sons Kaleb and Carson are very protective of their sisters.. all are growing up so fast.. Everleigh sure got her mothers attitude not always a good thing. But she gets good grades so do my other children Katniss is right you blink and you miss it. One day Ev comes home and tells us she is interest in a guy. My first instant is to get Katniss’s weapon… But I say when will we meet him… A few days later she brings this tall guy who doesn’t look like 16 he is a year older then her Ev told us. He looks at least 20… He looks scared when I invite him in good I have done my job… Everleigh comes up to him and says Mom. Dad this is Nathan Hawthorne… Katniss nearly chokes on her tea at the last name… she tries to cover “ Well that is wonderful honey”. Everleigh asks “Mom what is wrong” I try to cover “ So who are your Parents Nathan”… Nathan answers “ Gale and Madge”.. Kartniss lets out a sound Ev says “ Mom do you know him” I grin and say “ Oh yes she knows him all to well”.. Katniss tells Ev “ Gale and I were friends never in a relationship we tried but then I met your father”…Everleigh tell us “ That’s great then you guys know each other”… Everleigh asks her voice she knows I have a hard time to say no too “ Daddy can I date Nathan”… I look at Katniss and Nathan and Everleigh and say “ Yes you have my blessing but Nathan you hurt my little girl you will have me to answer too”…

They have been dating for a few months now… Everleigh comes home in tears… Katniss comforts her… I ask her what happened. She tells us Nathan cheated on her… I march out of the door and Katniss comes after me and says “ Where do you think your going”… I tell her words I never thought I would say “ To the Hawthornes ”… She says “ Well you are not gonna stop me from coming are you”… I am shocked and say “ Guess not”… Katniss gets into the car as we drive to Gales and Madge’s house.. I knock on the door and Gale answers the door he says “ Heard our kids are dating” I tell him “ Not anymore”.. He said “ Oh, why don’t you come in”.. I go into their house and Katniss follows she says “ Hi Gale” and walks right past him and gives Madge a hug… we all sit in the dinning room I explain everything. Madge says “ We had no idea we are so sorry about that” Gale asks “ are you sure its our Nathan we are talking about”.. Katniss says “ Unless there is another Nathan Hawthorne”… Just then Nathan and another girl walk in… he said “ Oh no” when four pairs of eyes look at him… Gale says “ Nathan where is Everleigh?”… Nathan says “ umm she broke up with me, This is Ashley”… I stand up but Katniss grabs my shoulders. I get out “ Then why did my daughter say you cheated on her”.. Ashley chimes in “ Wait you told me that you guys broke up weeks ago” Nathan starts to sweat “ umm ummm”.. Ashley says “ now your speechless well guess what your single now”.. Katniss beside me is trying hard not to loose it… Ashley literally walks out and says “ Mr and Mrs Mellark I have to go apologize to Everleigh” Katniss says “ you know where she lives she might still be on the couch crying her eyes out”. After Ashley Leaves Gale turns to Nathan and says “ Nate I thought we raised you better then that”…Katniss says under her breath “ Runs in the family” then we leave and head home… When we arrive we see Everleigh and Ashley talking… Laughing… well at least one good thing has come out of this day… Everleigh has a few heartbreaks and I realize I have to do this again…

A few short years later I am getting ready in a suit.. To Give Everleigh away… She is now 23. Since she got engaged we reflected back on her life. I still have one more daughter to give away if she chooses to.. Her Husband to be is one awesome guy. He reminds me of myself. He showed me he would put her first. His Name is Cody Mason. His mother is Johanna. His father is not in the Picture but Johanna must of done something right. We have known Johanna for a while now… years. Cody is only 4 years older then her… They started dated in college as My baby girl left to go study at District 7 college… She brought Cody home for one break and I instant knew this man who be my future son in law… The other children are growing up to fast as well as Oakley looks so grown up in that brides maid dress and My oldest son Carson is going to go to school in the fall Kaleb and Oakley I still have at home but I will blink and I will prepping for 3 more weddings before I know it. I knock on the door to see if she is ready.. And she looks at me and says. “ Yes I am, The real question is are you ready” With tears threatening to make an apprentice I say “ never ready to let you go but I know this the right man for you”… Ev gives me a kiss on the cheek and whips away a tear that escaped me.. and gives me a big hug… We walk down to the chapel the wedding will be in and I get in place and the doors open and I walk her down the aisle.. when I am asked who gives her away I say her mother and I… they give us hugs and I go and sit down and watch her get married… she is now A Mason… I get flashbacks… Everleigh and I share a father daughter dance that is when It hit me.. Katniss and I give a speech …

Before I know it I am In the Hospital room holding my first grandchild…

#thg #The Hunger Games #Hunger Games #catching fire #CatchingFire #mockingjay #for you #happy birthday #everlark #fanfic #quicky #mega-aulover #hope you enjoy it #katniss everdeen #katniss and peeta #Katniss #Peeta #Peeta Mellark #everlark fanfic

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

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summer days (Steve POV) {MTMF}

Title: summer days Rating: PG-13 (for language) Length: 1.5K Warnings: None. Notes: I started writing this last week, but due to popular demand for a bit of Steve POV I decided to roll up my sleeves and give this a shot. And yes, two posts in one day. Both angst-free? I’m shocked too. You can follow the timeline of Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501@fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii

if you want on the taglist, please let me know!

Steve settled down into the lawn chair beside Javier, clinking beer bottles with him before he took a swig. “Fatherhood suits you.” He quipped, stretching his legs out in front of him as he watched the girls playing across the yard.

“You getting sentimental on me, Murphy?” Javier countered, taking a drink with a shake of his head. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs. “You’re not half bad at this shit either.”

“We’re not talking about me, Javi.” He pointed at him with the beer bottle, “We’re talking about you going soft.” Steve chuckled, “Never thought you had it in you. You were a real piece of work in Colombia.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Javier rolled his jaw, staring across the yard at the kids as they ran through the sprinkler. He dragged his hand over his face and sighed, “Colombia wasn’t my finest time.”

“But look what you got out of it,” Steve pointed out, nodding his head towards the women who had just stepped out onto the patio. They were both wrapped up in some conversations, nursing their own bottles of beer. Probably thrilled that he and Javi were watching the girls so they could relax.

“She and Josie are the only bright spot from Colombia.”

“Yeah?” Steve arched a brow, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You never have talked about it. The two of you.” He took a drink of his beer, tucking the bottle into the cup holder in the arm of the chair.

Javier sighed heavily, scratching at his jaw. “Why the fuck is everyone up my ass about it?” He shook his head. “You were there, Murphy. You know how she and I were before you abandoned us.”

Steve snorted. “Oh, I remember how you two were always at each other’s throats. I was almost jealous.” He taunted lightly, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “There was a time I thought you had it bad for her.”

Javier seemed surprised by that, “Really?”

He nodded. “When she was seeing the CIA suit.” Steve recalled, tipping his beer back for another swig.

“Lance.” He grumbled.

“First time she had him in tow when we all went out for drinks. You were an asshole.”

“I’m always an asshole.”

“Nah, you were worse than usual.” Steve laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “I felt the third wheel the next day at work. You were both so snippy. Goddamn, Javi. How long have you been crazy about her?”

He sank back in the chair and sighed. “A long fucking time.” He pulled his aviators up and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “You’ve got no idea how many times I thought about calling you. It was a fucking nightmare.”

“So tell me about it now.”

Javier rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, his gaze flickering towards the patio as the women laughed over something. “She waited three months to tell. I felt like a fucking idiot. After… what happened, I tried. Me. Fucking chasing after her like a stupid schoolboy.”

“Damn, Peña.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Blew me off. I know why now. We’ve hashed it all out. Figured out why we couldn’t meet each other halfway back then. But then? Felt like a knife to the heart.” He knocked back the rest of his beer, letting the bottle rest in the grass beside his chair.

“You mean she made you work for it?” Steve questioned. “That’s what you needed, Javi. Someone who made you work for what you wanted. This shit — marriage, relationships, parenthood — its a lot of fucking work.”

“I know that.” Javier gritted out through his teeth. “I figured it was all punishment. You know?”

“No, I don’t. What do you mean?”

Javier shifted uncomfortably. “All the shit I had to do. For the DEA. For the greater good. Giving up little parts of myself because fuck if anyone cared about me. You can cry me a river over that goddamn cat, but I left a lot of myself in Colombia.” He sighed heavily, sinking into the chair. “They’re both worth it all. But there’s a lot of fucking baggage when it comes to the DEA.”

“Is that why you don’t want to get back in?”

He nodded stiffly. “I don’t want to be that guy again. I don’t have a reason to keep myself busy just to forget how fucking miserable I am.”

“Look, man.” Steve started quietly. “If I had known it was eating at you, I wouldn’t have pressured you.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged a shoulder. “She knows. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m getting good at expressing myself.”

“You mean you don’t beat your chest and go caveman anymore? Damn.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I’m proud of you Javi. You’ve done good.”

“Always room for improvement.” Javier ran his hands over the tops of his legs before he stood up. “You want another beer?”

“Yeah.” Steve gave a nod and finished off his beer. He watched Javier as he walked across to the patio, pulling two beers out of the cooler. She got up from where she’d been sitting with Connie, settling into Javi’s side. How had he missed the way she looked at Javier? He’d seen that look back in Colombia — the way her eyes lit up as she smiled up at him.

They’d always been good together. Some of his best years at the DEA had come out of her time as their partner. In so many ways she actually reminded him of Javier — how they found the female equivalent to him was beyond Steve.

Steve smirked as he watched Javier kiss her. He was a different man. In subtle ways. He pulled off the doting partner better than he’d expected. And that little girl adored him. Olivia too — she was always too excited for Uncle Javi to visit.

“Thanks,” Steve offered as Javier returned with beers. “You know I was thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

“Why didn’t you ever call and tell me? I was back in the states. What could’ve happened?”

Javier shrugged, “She was nervous. I still feel guilty that I’m part of the reason she had to quit. They came down hard on her on every front. I couldn’t care less, I was already done with their bullshit. But she loved it. I know she misses it, but they screwed her.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Don’t take it personally. My pops didn’t even know till we showed up in Texas. I just told him I had someone I wanted him to meet.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, well. You called and told me that ‘we’re coming to Miami next week, let’s meet for dinner’. No fucking indication on the we.” He leaned forward. “I was surprised enough to see you sitting there with your arm around her.” He took a sip. “I figured you’d probably get into her pants eventually, you were crazy about her.”

“Yeah.” Javi sighed. “I respected her too much to try it. Thought about it plenty. I could’ve blown it all that night. I had already lost you, then I spent three months trying to figure out how to cope if I had lost her too.”

“I’m flattered that losing me is right up there with her.”

“Fuck off Steve.” He flipped him off.

“This is all a good look on you.” Steve drew a line between Josie and her mother. “Domestic bliss.”

Javier smiled. “I’m the fucking luckiest man alive.” He watched the patio with a warmth in his gaze. “Never knew I could love someone like I love her.”

“And you used to mock me over Connie.”

“Yeah, well. You deserved it.” Javier rolled his eyes, though the grin lingered on his lips.

“I like this new and improved Javier. Who knew you had it in you.”

Javier tapped the beer bottle against his lips. “I don’t know if I would've gotten here without that little girl.” He watched Josie. “I hate to think I might still be miserable in Colombia otherwise.”

“You miss the hookers?” Steve taunted.

“Fuck no.” Javier took a swig of beer, shoving it into the cup holder. “Have you seen her?”

Steve laughed and nodded, “Yeah. But I don’t know what she sees in you.”

Javier flicked him off. “Goddamn. Why did I ever miss you?”

“My rugged good looks.” Steve offered. “I would miss me too.”

Javier scoffed. “I’m getting the sprinkler, you better run.”

“And ruin their fun?”

“Oh, they’ll enjoy it too.” Javier rolled up his sleeves before falling out to them, “Hey girls, who wants to get uncle Steve?”

Olivia was all too excited to douse him down with the hose.

#javier pena x reader #steve murphy #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

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Doc/Lion oneshot in which a secret comes out which Lion would much rather have kept from the rest of Rainbow. (Rating T, angst + happy ending, ~2.4k words) - written for @big-r6s-fan!! Thank you very much again for commissioning me 💗 I enjoyed myself writing this :)

Lion was 15 when lying became a necessity.

Before, it had been a fancy, a brief display of power: he could deceive people if he wanted, but it was no more than a trump card he was never forced to play. When he went out with his friends, his parents hardly showed enough interest or worry, making a lie redundant, and his peers didn’t really care either about his religious upbringing or other interests. He felt being the younger sibling keenly, and Sophie oftentimes reminded him of all the things she wasn’t allowed to do at his age, unaware of how much he actually took advantage of this freedom.

Many things happened at 15 which interfered with this dynamic, deeply disturbed his relationship not only with his family but also his friends. He stole his dad’s car for a joyride and ended up getting caught. The parent of an ex-friend he long ditched for being a teacher’s pet saw him drinking together with older kids. He snuck into the school’s chapel and pissed in the holy water. He started smoking, lost his virginity, and shoplifted. His parents didn’t find out about all of it, but they did find out about enough, gathered clues from half-hearted responses and all the details he omitted, saw it in his face. He had to get better at lying, if only to trick their system of regular texts and calls, checking homework, rigid curfew.

Not only that, he learnt to keep secrets to prevent ridicule. Just like most of his friends, he claimed to be an atheist since they were the loudest group and often harassed others for believing – in truth, he doubted yet hadn’t faltered. Church involvement repelled him as did the strict moral code, but he never fully gave up the idea of a higher power. He kept quiet about liking some of the catchy songs on the radio, about his crush on the prettiest girl in his class, about enjoying some of his classes, about his reading habits. He didn’t want to be uncool, so he went along with his peers, easily agreeing and keeping most of the things he truly held dear close to his heart instead of on his sleeve.

It resulted in fewer problems. His parents thought him converted, his friends thought him amiable and he started to enjoy telling lies.

One of his friends was already 18, owned a car and lived alone – in Lion’s eyes, he was the pinnacle of maturity, something to strive towards. It didn’t matter his vehicle was on the verge of falling apart and that his flat stunk of stale weed and had no wallpaper and that he worked in a supermarket; he could stay up whenever he wanted, had his own money, and could go wherever he pleased. Not only that, he also never took no for an answer. No matter how hare-brained the plan, he was on board, no matter how unachievable the dream, he gave support and encouragement. The little word which Lion had heard one too many times from his parents lately was missing from his vocabulary.

At some point, his friend told him to take his clothes off. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. This, too, Lion never disclosed to anyone.

Just like the fact that he liked it.

Years took their toll on him. One of the very few things he kept from his adolescence is his taste in music which he doesn’t readily share with others from his church. He doesn’t speak about his faith with his colleagues. The extent of his escapades has never reached his parents’ ears. Not once has he told any of his girlfriends about the men with whom he fooled around. At times, it eats at him, every little secret, every little lie another bite out of his conscience, and though he’s trying his best to follow the commandments, it’s a habit he simply can’t kick. It spares him so many intrusive, difficult questions that it’s just not worth giving up.

There’s one man in particular who seems keen on testing his limits, however. There’s no reaction from him when Lion attempts to change the topic, every excuse merely makes him dig deeper, every wall that’s thrown up causes him to redouble his efforts of scaling it – once he’s identified an issue, he refuses to let go until he’s received a satisfactory response and his bluntness frankly intimidates Lion. He has trouble dealing with it, walked off a couple of times instead of opening up but with time realised that judgement never followed. That his concessions were never met with disdain. That his bareness was reciprocated in kind.

It’s hard to accept that the one person who carefully dismantles the web of lies, half-truths and excuses he weaves as protection used to be his enemy.

But by now, he’s starving for affirmation and takes what he can gets without seeming desperate, and when Doc refuses to back down even when confronted with some of Lion’s unsavoury past, he eventually gives in. Hands himself over. Allows Doc to rummage through the myriad of memories he usually keeps under wraps, and watches helplessly as the other man treats it more like a historical museum than contemporary art – he reassures Lion that while all of it contributed to his personality, he’s greater than the sum of its parts. He sees something in Lion no one else does, and so he fiercely, jealously guards the emotions shared between them from the rest of the world. This is his. He will not risk ridicule. He will not let it wither in sunlight where it flourishes in darkness.

Which is why he’s overcome with dizzying nausea when Dokkaebi walks in on them.

They were cautious, both of them averse to endangering this fragile understanding between them, and though they began living in each other’s skin outside of work, they avoided each other in Hereford. Not obvious enough to draw suspicion but rigorous enough to resist temptation. This day, it just so happened that Lion had lab results to drop off at the end of his shift, and Doc was still around, and so they exchanged a few words. Maybe stood a little too close. Doc said something soothing, Lion reacted with a rare smile, and warm fingers found his own, lips neared his.

A quick peck. No more. But Dokkaebi bursts in just then and clearly realises what’s going on and though Lion scrambles to revert back to the persona which can lie like it breathes, he’s gotten used to not needing it in Doc’s presence and is therefore too slow.

Awkwardness settles in his bones, guides Dokkaebi’s stilted words and stiff movements, laces Doc’s curt response, causes Lion’s face to burn and him to take an unnecessary step backwards. It squeezes his heart until it desperately pumps against the iron grip, blackening the outside of his vision, and with a formal excuse, he leaves. He nearly misses the doorknob on the way out due to shaking fingers.

She knows.

And if she knows, so will everyone else the next day. His and Doc’s feud spread like wildfire the moment he joined Rainbow and there’s no doubt this tasty bite of news will do the same. They will all know.

His phone starts buzzing before he’s even home. Composure is a virtue and he thanks the Lord for gracing him with it or else he might’ve swerved his car into a ditch. Teeth chattering, he stops by the side of the road and turns the device off – he doesn’t need this unconditional compassion right now, even if he’s unsure what else he needs. All he knows is that he’d break down if the calm voice on the other end asked him whether he’s alright.

Intrusive thoughts haunt him almost like a badly edited narration over a bleak independent film. You don’t deserve him, and he’s fairly sure he’s hungry, so he puts a slice of bread into the toaster. Doesn’t it contradict your faith? He hasn’t even taken off his shoes, so he unlaces them by the couch, leaves them lying in the way. Believe me, you two aren’t gonna last. Coffee sounds good right about now, even if all he has is instant. Fucking coward, hasn’t even come out and probably blackmails Doc. Kettle, water, cup, spoon, powder. The metal in his hands feels too smooth. Wasn’t his kitchen a little bigger? He could’ve sworn it wasn’t dark out when he arrived. He’s still an arrogant twat. Great, his toast is cold now.

The voices of the people he’s forced to interact with every day are merciless.

It’s like he’s run a marathon and, despite being wholly drained, the residual adrenaline fires up his mind in uncomfortable bursts. Sitting down for longer than ten minutes is impossible and he finds himself going through his qualifications at one point. He’s good at his job. He’s sure he can find another one elsewhere.

Now and then, faces flash before him. The priest he told to go fuck himself when he tried to talk to young Lion about responsibilities. His parents after being informed about his fatherhood. Claire when she realised he was serious about the abortion. His own son upon seeing him the first time. And, lastly, Doc. The day his colleagues’ blood added to the crusty mess already on Lion’s hands.

He won’t be able to bear more. He’ll break if the rest of Rainbow adds to this embarrassingly long list of shocked, appalled, disgusted expressions, especially since it’d be over something so dear to him. So crucial to his survival. He can’t stand them shunning him for having found his heart’s desire.

Already resigned to a night of no sleep, he jolts upright at the sound of his doorbell. Sits there, motionless, paralysed in indecision. He should let him in. He doesn’t want to.

It still rings now and then five minutes later, every noise running marrow-deep. He trusts Doc fully, but he doesn’t trust himself.

For once, his mind comes up with a reasonable objection: isn’t he a little old to be self-sabotaging like this?

Doc doesn’t mention the wait once he’s crossed the threshold. He won’t get it, not with how supportive his family has been, not with how popular he is, not with how little he encountered rejection in his life. And yet simply seeing him helps.

“I don’t want to lose you”, Lion breathes into his hair and the reassurances convince him that his lover genuinely doesn’t understand – he whispers the words which usually soothe Lion, promises him to stay by his side and remains unaware of the real problem. It matters not that he’s loyal when no one will talk to them. It’s irrelevant how supportive he is when open hostility will make coordinated teamwork unachievable. The tension will carry over until it either permeates their entire relationship, leaves them irritated and frustrated with each other, or until Lion is reassigned. Or potentially leaves of his own accord.

Both would be the end of them.

In exposing their feelings, they have killed them. And though Doc’s fingers will eventually grow tired of brushing away wet streaks, there will always be more tears.

Needle pricks in his back. He feels them wherever he goes, head held high and seemingly impervious – but the gazes riddle him, erode his self-control and he’s sure that eventually, there’ll be more holes than substance. Wandering through the base is nightmarish, an omnipresent sense of dread unshakeable. None of the people around him dare to speak anywhere but in their minds, and so he’s powerless to defend himself. They all know.

Every smile is malicious, every bout of laughter directed at him. Today, the universe has assembled to judge over the mockery that is his life and finds it lacking.

Doc’s words are etched into the back of his brain, not as encouragement but as a reminder of how naive his lover is. Doc desperately holds onto this fundamental trust towards humanity, ignorant of his privilege, ignorant of how revered he is, how the seas part for him, how no one dares to speak ill of him. He blindly assumes his experiences are universal. It’s easy for him to confuse his own brightness reflected back at him with another source of light.

Lion isn’t so lucky.

Whenever anyone approaches him, he expects the worst, flinches pre-emptively and stumbles his way through conversations which should’ve gone a lot smoother. They shoot him more and more odd looks the further the day progresses, and it’s not just the albatross around his neck they see. A glance in the mirror confirms he looks like death.

Montagne is a good friend and Lion values his opinion, yet conversing with him is like nails dragging over a chalkboard. He inquires about Lion’s well-being and lies like this one hardly count anymore. The brief talk has him sit down or else he might’ve started swaying, and the deafening roar of his thoughts almost makes him miss Montagne’s parting statement: “I’m happy for you and Gustave. I wish you two all the best.”

He -

He can’t mean it, can he?

A day later, in passing, Buck says with a smile: “You’ve snagged a good one. Don’t let him get away, eh?”

And Ash, at the end of the week: “I’m very glad it’s working out with you and Doc.”

Lion has never received this many friendly words. Most of the team captains send him on errands which carry him past Doc’s office. Hibana assigns him and Doc together for an exercise without a second thought. Twitch begins buying one coffee more each morning.

The burden lifts. The queasy feeling dissipates. His future brightens. It’s an incredible experience, and the more he adapts, the warmer the others receive him. It’s a mutual thing, glowing and strengthening his confidence, and eventually he even admits Doc was right from the beginning.

“They don’t treat me any worse”, he adds when sharing his observations with a wholly relieved Doc, loose and content and not at all shy with his displays of affection.

“Of course not”, comes the gentle reply. “Everyone deserves happiness, Olivier. It’s time you start believing it.”

Lion has to concede that here, by Doc’s side, looking forward to a good night’s sleep and a challenging job with supportive co-workers, it’s a lot easier to trust in these words.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #very glad you liked it!!#this flowed out of my fingertips #if I write more lion this prob includes recurring themes

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aenigmaticdays · 4 years

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Non-linear Trajectories

A series of significant steps over the next few months since the Mandalorian and the baby became a clan of two post-Nevarro. There’s still a lot Din has yet to learn about the kid he’s taken under his wings, and even if it’s a wild-goose chase to reunite him with his kind, who says space-parenting is easy?

A/N: Inspired by…Yoda, of all creatures, who became a Jedi Master at a hundred years old, and continued that way till he was 900 ish.

If it stands to reason that its ageing must not quite be that linear, what fun then, to know we’re probably standing at a precipice when Dyn Jarren is about to get thrown into a dizzying time of fatherhood with a kid whose sudden growth spurt and accelerated rate of learning will probably happen…quite soon.

Apart from this, all we know of this species is that it’s supposed to remain an archetypal mystery on George Lucas’s orders, though The Mandalorian has pretty much opened this can of worms by introducing the baby on our small screens.

I’m taking liberties here. #Sorrynotsorry

Also on AO3.

9 years, 3 months ABY

What pitiful little Din Djarin knows of parenting is thrown further into dissonance when the ad’ika finally speaks.

“Tion'ad's ogir? See you, I can.”

The high-pitched warble is enough to galvanise Din out of the pilot’s chair to stumble in front of the child who is gnawing at the silver Mythosaur, its attention fully fixed on the inanimate object as though it hadn’t nearly floored him with its casually-spoken but cryptic words.

After all, he’s only a novice at figuring out the ad’ika’s garbled coos, squeaks and trills when the kid suddenly decides to speak.

His own voice, rough with sleep, comes out gravelly, low and bewildered as he’d ever heard. “What…what did you just say?”

The only response Din gets is the slight lift of its disproportionate lift of its green years, a slobbery grin and two raised green arms.

He slumps back into his seat with the kid on his lap, his mind racing. More importantly, the kid’s first word isn’t Buir to his shamefaced relief, because he wouldn’t know how he’d react otherwise.

3 months after leaving Nevarro, the decree that they are now a clan of two still simultaneously terrifies and elates him. But it’s a bond—whether he wants to admit or not—that had been forged long before he’d traded the kid for beskar and hadn’t needed the Armourer’s affirmation or the emblematised mudhorn now welded onto the beskar he wore to give it a name.

The fault solely lies on Dyn’s shoulders which become weightier by day.

Coming to terms with being something akin to the kid’s father requires more than an overhaul in the long-held mindset that he only worked alone and had only himself to look after. It is a change that he tries to welcome nonetheless, according to the creed all the Mandalorians live by—the kid that started out as an asset is now a foundling.

Gone are the days of taking coin in exchange for bounties—that course of destiny he’d irrevocably altered with the split-second decision to get the child back and out of the clutches of the Client.

Theirs is a strange relationship: he’d turned from reluctant captor to reluctant protector to somewhat reluctant dad to a foundling who in its own way takes care of him as much as he takes care of it. There hadn’t been anyone, not even his own adopted parents, nor his clanmates, who’d been as fully attuned to the sweep of his emotions and physical well-being as this child, and maybe it’s because of that sorcery-magic that the green creature wields at moments of its choosing.

The kid is an odd contradiction on its own: small and vulnerable, helpless…yet not, not with the immense sorcerer’s power that he wields at opportune moments when Dyn had thought all was lost.

This is something that he had yet to fully assimilate, despite the daily, round-the-clock reminders of the kid’s dependence on him.

Swivelling the chair around, he turns to regard the kid, who’s still happily playing with his pendant like he hadn’t just upended Din’s brooding. A quick mental calculation about the kid’s development leaves him overwhelmed.

The low-level of panic that accompanies the thought of taking responsibility for the ad’ika hasn’t fully ebbed since the day he’s single-handedly tanked his bounty-hunting career, but he’d be in denial to say he’s taking on this momentous task with the same gusto he’d used to take down bounties.

If the ad’ika is merely a gurgling, teething infant at fifty who has just learned to talk, what then, is its lifespan and what other powers will it develop in the years to come?

“Buir!”

It’s the second time that Din nearly falls out of his chair at that squeaky warble, accompanied by a toothy giggle.

The uncomfortable feeling in his gut grows, but it isn’t one he can put a name to.

oOo

9 years, 8 months ABY

The slight, sharp prod in his mind is the only thing that nudges him upwards towards the light at the end of the tunnel—so sharp that it momentarily erases the lingering, recurring nightmare of dirt roads falling to ruin or of the sudden darkness that envelops him as his parents shove him into a basement storage or of the amplified sounds of broken screams and the whine of Imp blasters.

Amid the chaos and the flames, the intrusive presence twists itself into the well-worn scene, a supporting player in a familiar cast that always ends with him staring into the wrong end of a blaster.

Except that this has the exceptional warmth of someone he recognises by instinct, a warmth that suddenly takes on a rapidly-swelling tinge of green, red and yellow colouring the edge of his consciousness upon which only blackness had once encroached.

Wake up, Buir! Buir! Protect you, I will!

This is must be a hallucination, Din thinks, because the pain that colours his side has just blurred his vision fuzzy and dimmed all else around him.

With eyes that have crusted over, he blinks with difficulty and sits up, the noise of the shootout still loud in his ears, except—

Clarity returns incrementally as time ticks by slowly, as though orchestrated by a three-clawed hand that is waving shrapnel through the air in a miniature tornado that has them sitting in its calm eye.

With a flick of the ad’ika’s little arm, the funnel-shaped shrapnel loses its form and falls into a heap by his feet before arrowing upwards in a spectacular rush of speed and descending impossibly fast onto—and into—their would-be captors.

Only when the last Imp falls does the kid slump in exhaustion but not collapse, its slight wheezes and heaves of breath the only sounds echoing through his earpiece. Still, it’s instinct that has Din catching the kid and clutching it tightly to his chest as the baby babbles a mix of mando’a and Basic distractedly and pushes itself into him, before imprinting its claws into the edge of his armour.

The fumble back to the Razor Crest is a slow one, with the kid snoozing in his carrier bag after Din’s repeated assurances that they’re both fine and that yes—they are well clear of enemies.

The doors shut with finality on this godforsaken planet and it’s not a moment too soon as more Imps suddenly enter the arena.

Din busies himself with the take-off protocols before allowing himself the luxury to think in the silence of the cabin once he makes the jump into hyperspace.

“Bad men, they are.”

The soft squawk and the lifted green ears challenge him to deny otherwise.

He’s used to the kid’s random bursts of sentences by now. The kid’s intent is always understandable, even if his syntax defies correction. But it isn’t a moral issue that Din’s going to engage in right now, especially not with a kid who’s just saved both their hides.

So he nods, swivels around and touches a green ear in a way he knows the baby likes.

“You did good, kid. That was a hellhole we just got out of. And thanks to you, no less.”

As though pacified by the Mandalorian’s words, the kid returns to gnawing at the Mythosaur pendant that hadn’t left its neck since Nevarro.

Verd ori'shya beskar'gam.

The words uttered by the Armourer long ago floods his memory banks—words bestowed with restrained approval when he’d once used his smarts to outwit his trainer-captors and not with his weapons in the Fighting Corps.

A warrior is more than his armour.

The kid had proven that in spades.

Whatever the ad’ika had done earlier, this is the clearest and most overt displays of power he’d seen it wield over space and matter. If whatever the kid has done thus far—from moving pieces of toys for its own amusement or turning the flametrooper’s fire back on him—had baffled him or given him pause, it’s today’s show of power that brought a fuller understanding of how the Mandalorians had found the Jetii a fearsome foe.

If the kid had once collapsed after the fight with the mudhorn and slept for days, the energy that it seems to has right now is a clear sign that it’s capable of much, much more than Din could ever have imagined. That it’s only coming into its own now given the exponential rate of its increasing powers is more than unsettling, making the search for its own kind suddenly made much more urgent.

He continues to marvel at the baby’s growth, if it’s still considered a baby at this point in time. He’s flying blind as always, more so with a species whose unknown past is still hidden within the confines of the kid’s mysterious memory banks.

But the kid had grown remarkably in the months he’d left Nevarro, astonishing Din with its mental dexterity and its ability to…do its thing when it wants to.

Din checks the navi comp, mentally cancelling out the planet they’d just taken off from.

One more down, too many more to go.

oOo

10 years, ABY

How the holovid had found its way into a flea market is beyond anyone’s comprehension, but he’d made his purchase on impulse after hurriedly gathering his rations for the next space run, eager to get back to the Razor Crest lest the ad’ika’s latest brand of mischief involving opening and slamming shut the Crest’s various doors damages something permanently and strands them in yet another godforsaken planet.

Labelled nothing more as a training vid for aspiring Force-users and shoved among renowned fake vids, it’s probably worth fewer credits than he’d paid for, but this is the only hot lead that Din had been tossed in a long, long time.

Only when the child’s tuckered out with a full belly does he play it.

The grainy footage, short as it is, is…mesmerising.

It’s merely a static-filled, shaky snippet of a jetii in training, her luminescent, long, blunt-edged sword moving with a hum to deflect blaster shots before they meet their mark, before cutting to a scene where she leaps across the forest floor and onto the branches of primeval trees, each one higher than the other.

But it’s the last scene that threatens the relative stability that both him and the ad’ika had found.

It’s one where the same jetii grimaces—and trembles—in concentration, the gleaming sword held straight in front of her glistening face as she strains forward but makes no progress, as though resisting an invisible mental and physical probe.

A voice from outside the three-dimensional vid commands. “Steady, you will hold. Feel it. Runs though all living beings, it does.”

The jetii breaks, stumbling backward onto the grass as her chest heaves with exhaustion.

Finally, Din puts a face to the squeaky, raspy voice. A green creature with large, pointed ears and wispy white hair ambles into the side of the holovid, wielding a similar-looking, glowing, green blade in its claws—

Forgotten, you have.

The Force is with you, always.

It’s not so much the green creature speaking as it’s a…a reverberating hum in his own head just as the holovid crumbles into thin air at that moment.

Beneath his helmet, Din is sweaty and light-headed, his mind drawing a blank.

The Force. The jetii.

A creed, possibly, or an order, not unlike the Mandalorian Resol’nare that they live by.

More specifically, the older, jetii version of the ad’ika who is presently rushing around the Crest, babbling in its own curious mix of mando’a and Basic and finding new places to start a game of hide and seek.

A teacher of sorts.

As far as he’s concerned, this could be confirmation of more of the ad’ika’s kind out there, and in this short snippet, he’d learned much more about the mysterious, Force-sensitive jetii than anyone had been able to tell him apart from the stories of the Great Purge and the fragmented tales of ancient Mandalore.

It isn’t without a twinge in his gut when he realises that the answer he’s looking could be closer than he thinks.

oOo

11 years, 2 weeks ABY

They are uncomfortably close to a Mid-Rim planetary system that Din would have preferred to forego when the Razor Crest starts to act up.

It leaves him no choice but to guide the Crest into the icy, buffeting winds on Iridonia, a planet he’d judged too inhospitable for him and the kid to stay on, both for its terrain and its native predatory creatures.

The ship turns belly up, then rights itself, free-wheeling as it breaks Iridonia’s atmosphere even with his hands firmly on the landing controls. Swaying in the planet’s gravity pull, it heads straight for a massive, molten lava field south of its equator—

He’s swept left and right, barely hearing the alarmed screeches of the kid as they are nearly tossed off their seats. It’s the tail end of his cloak that the kid falls onto with a displeased, pained squeal, but he doesn’t even have the time to look at it for any injuries as he scrambles to flip several switches with one hand as a last resort while scooping up the ad’ika with the other.

A low whine indicates that the emergency landing gear has kicked in, but a short explosion a few seconds after that and pitch-darkness in the cockpit says that even that’s out of commission.

This is it, Din thinks.

He’s flat out of tricks of his trade.

The last year of his life with a kid that he probably hadn’t done any justice by is going to be snuffed out in a hot, painful burn. Along with a vulnerable, tiny creature that he still knows so little of. The regret that floods him is immense, along with the desperate panic that he could have still saved the child if he’d only—

Two shaking, green hands stretch past his peripheral vision as the kid strains forward with half-closed eyes.

The Razor Crest shudders to a halt in mid-air as the steaming vapours of the lava field obscures its viewport, then glides serenely past the wind storm and into a stable air flow before hovering unsteadily and landing bumpily on a patch of green near a massive body of water.

Whatever the kid does with the Force these days (and it’s getting more and more impressive by the day), it still stuns him speechless. How it’d gotten to a point where it wields this power over space and matter so instinctively and easily is not something he understands and probably can’t ever.

When Din speaks, he’s breathless with awe. “Once again, you’ve saved us, ad’ika.”

The child sags and fidgets drowsily on his lap. “Sleep…buir.”

The kid’s worn himself out this time around and even Din can understand the sheer amount of strength it’d taken to push a ship out of its path and into another.

He sighs and glances down at the snoozing kid.

The repairs that await him are extensive.

There’re some he can do on his own, but others are beyond him. Din only hopes that there’s a port that will stay peaceful long enough for the Crest to get fixed before they’re on their way again.

Luck barely stays on his side when he stumbles across an isolated workshop near a village, though the hostile stares of the humanoids Zabraks keep his hand permanently stayed on his blaster and the other holding the kid’s carrier bag more tightly.

A tall, grizzled native waits for him at tent flap, her pale orange skin oddly glowing in the light pushing the facial tattoos and horns into sharp relief.

“I have seen your ship.”

Din acknowledges her greeting with a curt admission of his own. “We nearly crashed.”

She merely smiles and gestures him in. “I saw this months ago. Come, your ship will be repaired. For now, rest, Mandalorian.”

It’s only after he’s had a meal and taken care of the kid’s needs that the Zabrak tells him of a jungle-covered moon that orbits a red gas giant.

She leans forward, the intensity of her stare somehow penetrating the toughness of his visor. “You are both ready.”

oOo

11 years, 1 month ABY

An ancient structure comes into view when the stars of deep space disintegrate into thick clouds and rain relentlessly pattering the viewport.

Yavin-4 is a cleverly-concealed habitable planet that has been the heart of the Rebellion for a long time and simply being in New Republic territory when he’s merely operated in the Outer Rim is justified cause for nervousness.

He gingerly puts the Razor Crest down on the landing site next to an X-wing but makes no move to lower the ramp. Behind him, the child fusses and fidgets, squawking when it’s unhappy (which is practically most of the time) and barely using the words Din knows it can speak.

Calming the kid down these days is a monumental task.

The ad’ika seems to have regressed in the last two weeks alone ever since they’d left Iridonia, restlessly chirping and babbling gibberish as though it’s trying to erase all the progress it has made since Nevarro.

The kid’s also clinging more than usual to his armour, refusing to sleep on its makeshift cot and insisting on being near him as much as it can. Even now, it toddles towards him, arms outstretched and eyes wide.

Something stirs on this planet despite its surface stillness: a particular sort of energy that rumbles through the mossy ground and saturates the humid air, the sort that lifts the hair on the back of his neck.

If Din has a slight inkling of it, the kid mostly likely feels it everywhere.

He’s got a bad feeling about this—this is the journey that will change the holding pattern that he’d found himself in for the last year or so.

Whatever happens from here onwards hasn’t yet been written.

The finality of the Zabrak’s words is deeply imprinted on to his psyche; months and months of searching is suddenly culminating in something that Din has no words for.

Maybe both him and the kid are not ready for it.

He gently settles the kid in its carrier bag and hits the ramp’s controls. “Ready to go?”

The ad’ika frowns in defiance. “No!”

The kid’s separation anxiety is rearing its head even before anything happens and he commiserates. The bond between them is a life bond—sacred words have been spoken about this and if anything, it’s his fault for not reassuring the child of it ever since they’ve become a clan of two.

Din sighs in empathy. “Neither am I, kid. But it has to be done.”

It does.

There are so many missing pieces here that he needs the answers to and the cloaked spectre—the jetii that he now knows by the name of Luke Skywalker—who awaits him at the structure’s massive entrance might provide them all.

But…

Din weighs the words he’d heard so long ago in his head and tests them on his lips, the feel of them strange on his tongue.

“Whatever it is, the Force will be with you, ad’ika.”

The kid stills suddenly, its ears lifting as he turns to glance at the waiting jetii and then back at his buir.

He tries again, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Aliit ori'shya tal'din. And I will be with you. Always.”

-Fin

oOo

Tion'ad's ogir – Who’s there? Buir – parent (either father or mother) Jetii – Jedi Verd ori'shya beskar'ga – A warrior is more than his armour Aliit ori'shya tal'din – Family is more than bloodline

#The Mandalorian #Star Wars #Din Djarin #Dyn Jarren #Fanfic #I caved and wrote one #Baby Yoda

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spectral-musette · 5 years

Text

So, the Avengers: Endgame spoiler ban is lifted, and I’ve had a chance to mull over my responses, so I’m finally going to try to write up some thoughts. I was hoping to have seen it again in the interim, but that didn’t work out, so I’m relying on memory from one viewing – it’s possible I’ve missed or misinterpreted things.

Spoilers to follow, so scroll carefully, Ye on Mobile! Also, sorry about the Long Post (TM), I apparently I had a lot to say.

Time-wise, for its 3 hour length, the film didn’t feel long to me. It maintained its momentum and nothing felt laggy or tedious, even the big battles.

Time travel-wise… Okay, positive stuff first. I thought that revisiting the settings of earlier films was absolutely delightful and nostalgic. It felt very satisfying to have those call backs to earlier adventures and cameos of old enemies (Crossbones, Pierce, Zola, and, surprise, even Sitwell). The Cap vs. Cap fight was hilarious, and I loved seeing Steve so utterly exasperated with himself (“I can do this all d-“, “YEAH, I know.”). The scene in the 70’s was good, though some of the Tony and Howard stuff rang a little hollow to me. I think that’s mostly because I’ve always had trouble reconciling Dominic Cooper’s Young Howard Stark (who I’m very fond of, especially after Agent Carter) to the older version of Howard we see in various flashbacks. They look, sound, and act nothing alike; my friends and I always joke that Hydra replaced Howard sometime in the 60’s. So while an aged up Dominic Cooper Howard probably would’ve made me emotional, as it was, I was more moved to see 20 seconds of Jarvis than for all the stuff with Tony talking to his dad about fatherhood.

Using the “Quantum Realm” for time travel was… okay…. Insofar as the “science” of the Ant-Man films has absolutely never made any damn sense (and that’s …. fine. They’re funny and joyful, and I enjoy them a lot anyway. I don’t go to Marvel movies for “realistic” science fiction), throwing time travel into the mix felt like it just might as well happen. I guess I understand why they chose to go with the “nothing we do in the past can affect our own timelines” approach, but frankly it’s still giving me a headache. I also understand not over-explaining, but there’s a middle ground there that wasn’t quite achieved for me. I guess, based on the scene with Tilda Swinton (sorry, haven’t seen Dr. Strange and don’t know her character’s name) and Bruce, we’re supposed to assume that every journey to the past (cue Anastasia music) creates or perhaps just shifts the time traveler into an alternate reality that branches from their original reality at that point? And then when they travel back to the time they started from via the quantum realm, they return to their original version of reality. So the actions that they take in the past affect that alternate reality, but not the reality that they came from and return to. That’s the only thing I can figure out that makes sense to me at all, but unfortunately the film didn’t make that especially clear. Maybe seeing it again would clarify? So this is gonna be a big factor in how I feel about Steve’s ending, but I’ll get to that in a moment.

Also, a tangent re: time travel… While Tony (an engineer) and Bruce (a biologist) are both brilliant, this seems a little outside their areas of expertise! You know, wouldn’t it be great if we had a character who was an astrophysicist who could really tackle this type of thing - OH HEY, we do! I realize that there were probably issues with getting Natalie Portman back in a substantial role, but I love Jane Foster a lot and I would’ve loved seeing her work with Tony and Bruce to save the universe with a handful of Pym Particles.

OKAY, there’s an awful lot to cover, so I’m going to break down some of my feelings by character just to try to stay organized.

(First, a disclaimer that I haven’t seen Captain Marvel yet, so while Carol seemed like a great character, I don’t have a lot to say since I don’t really know her yet. That said, this seemed like an adequate introduction to the character and I am interested to know more. We have the problem of “if Fury could’ve called her anytime why didn’t he call her during the Chitauri attack/to fight Ultron/etc.” But all the individual titles that come after the team-ups have that problem a little bit… Where were the Other Avengers in Thor 2 or Iron-Man 3, etc.? Sometimes you just have to accept and move on.)

Briefly:

Nebula and Gamora, Tony, Bruce, Scott, with a quick note about Wanda and a very conspicuous absence

And the heavier stuff regarding:

Thor, Natasha, and Steve (and Sam and Bucky).

Nebula and Gamora:

While the Guardians aren’t really my thing, I did vaguely know that in the original Infinity Gauntlet comic storyline, Nebula takes the gauntlet from Thanos and fixes reality. I understand not following the comics exactly for the sake of surprise and to fit with the changed version of the universe, but it still felt wrong to totally take that away from her. Especially given what Thanos has done to her, personally, it seemed fitting that she was going to be the one defeat him. I’m glad she was still pivotal to the story, but it felt like an extra kick in the teeth that past!Nebula was the catalyst for Thanos catching up with our heroes rather than getting to be the one who saves the universe. And forcing her to kill her past self felt like it should’ve been treated with much more gravity than it finally was.

I’m really glad we “saved” Gamora by bringing the version of her from the past into the current timeline (however that works), but I feel so bad for anyone who’s really invested in Gamora/Peter Quill. It’s so heartbreaking that their entire history never happened as far as she’s concerned, that we’ve not only removed that very key relationship, but her character growth over the past how many years. It is at least hopeful; Peter remembers, and has the chance to woo her again, but that’s still got to sting.

Tony:

So Tony Stark sure did die.

I’m not sure… he really needed to? I mean I don’t think I get the rationale of the Infinity Gauntlet killing/maiming the user. I recall the handwavey line about gamma radiation, but if you don’t immediately die after using it, couldn’t you juuuust, say, use the Reality Stone to be like, “hey what if I wasn’t mortally injured”? Couldn’t somebody ELSE do that? I’m not sure I get that.

So that said, I’m not sure if RDJ was really pushing for “you gotta kill me off” for dramatic effect or just to step out of the franchise? It would’ve been kinda cool to see retired Tony working as Avenger-support, working on suits for Rhodey and future Iron-heroes (Iron Patriot? Iron Heart?), mentoring Peter and other youths, and living his nice life with Pepper and their munchkin.

But what a way to go, huh? Dramatic self-sacrifice saving the the planet(/universe?), and a funeral that almost everybody who’s anybody shows up for.

Bruce:

I’m with Valkyrie that I preferred EITHER version to PermaHulk Bruce. Honestly, the Hulk himself had sort of become an independent character, especially after Ragnarok (my issues with Ragnarok aside). So by Bruce settling into this “I look like the Hulk but I act like Bruce” limbo, are we … essentially killing the Other Guy? I don’t like that. I mean I prefer Bruce obviously, but I’m really uncomfortable with that solution.

Scott:

I really love Scott and he was delightful as always in this film. I’m heartbroken for him that he missed (another) 5 years of Cassie’s life, though. I’m also pretty sad we won’t get to see the little girl who has played Cassie so far in any future films since we’ve aged the character up to a teenager. Also, I would’ve liked to see more of Hope! I loved Scott and Hope’s little moment when Hope calls Steve “Cap” and they trade expressions between Scott going “SEE, HE IS REALLY COOL, RIGHT?” and Hope being like “Yeah, okay”.

Overall I guess the Ant-Fam is sorta tangential to the main MCU Avengers cast, so while it was nice to have everybody play together, briefly, I’m pretty content that we’ll see more of Hope (and Janet!) in future Ant-Man/Wasp titles.

- Similarly, while T’Challa and the Wakanda fam were definitely underused in Endgame (especially the entirely absent Nakia), Black Panther 2 is happening. It’s disappointing to not get a substantial amount of characters that you like in the big team-up films, but it’s good to know they’ll be returning later.

Wanda:

We are really leaving Wanda in a rough place of having lost her twin brother and her android boyfriend within a pretty short amount of time (that’s rough, buddy). Plus, one of the characters that we’ve seen her have a pretty strong bond with is Steve, and he’s out of the picture too. I’m not sure where we’re going with this character, honestly. Hopefully it’s not continuing to hurt her.

It really seemed conspicuous that nobody so much as mentioned Vision by name in this film. Wanda referred to him indirectly, but that was it. I get that Vision isn’t immediately able to be saved since he didn’t vanish in the Gauntlet event, but, yikes, can anybody besides Wanda please attempt to give a damn about him?

I know sometimes we like to pretend that Age of Ultron didn’t happen to us, but Vision was still an interesting character, and some major plot points of Infinity War focused on the value of Vision as a person. I feel pretty bereft that he’s (apparently) gone beyond recall with so little mourning.

Thor:

*heavy sigh*

Thor’s characterization was….???

Unpopular Opinion: despite its good points, I overall didn’t really like Ragnarok, and Thor already sort of felt out of character to me at that point.

Another Unpopular Opinion: I actually really love The Dark World. Thor’s relationship with Jane, and his characterization of gentleness and humility in that era really were important to me.

And I get that Hemsworth is genuinely good at comedy and probably likes doing it. But Thor has always been a funny character. We just used to be laughing with him instead of at him.

I was so uncomfortable with the way the film framed Thor’s brush with depression and alcoholism. Because Thor has lost so much at this point, he has every reason to struggle. I want to say that Thor wouldn’t have given up, but the same time I can believe that this almost unimaginable weight of loss (Frigga, Odin, Loki, Heimdall, The Warriors Three, Asgard itself) would take some toll. And yet the framing of his scenes treats his grief and despair as cause for humor. We’re expected to laugh about an unkempt beard and a big belly instead of being concerned about the fact that a character that we loved considers himself a failure. And there’s nothing funny about this situation to me. It just made me uncomfortable and sad. Revisiting Thor 2 and having him talk to Frigga was on the better side, but I’m disappointed that we couldn’t save her.

Natasha:

*heavier sigh*

Okay, I think a lot of the problem here is that it’s just really difficult to kill a main character any time other than in the last act (we also saw this problem in Star Wars Rebels, but that’s another can of worms). So because Natasha died at such a midway point in the movie, I still can’t shake the feeling that she’s not really dead. Nothing about it felt final to me. Clint trying to emphasize that, because Red Skull said so, it was impossible to bring her back (it’s freaking RED SKULL, why would we trust him???) just made me think even more that she was definitely coming back. Everything seemed to point to her dramatic reappearance and then it just … didn’t happen. That’s not to say it won’t happen in a future film, though, but it still feels deeply unsatisfying and unceremonious now, and that feeling really was a blow to my overall enjoyment of the film.

It also sat really badly with me that Natasha made this choice not just to save Clint (which I would believe; their friendship is really great and I love seeing Natasha’s extremely profound but non-romantic bonds with Clint and with Steve (though I would’ve preferred Natasha/Clint to Natasha/Bruce)), but because she fundamentally felt less worthy than Clint. I don’t like the idea that Natasha went to her death still feeling such guilt, still feeling like a monster (according to that awful scene in AoU), for the things she did as a very young person under the influence of brainwashing. I don’t like that at all.

I’m also really disappointed that we didn’t pursue Natasha and Bucky’s relationship from the comics in the MCU. Because the idea of two people with very similar emotional wounds coming together to support each other as they heal is just really appealing (#looking for baggage that goes with mine). That throwaway line in Civil War (“at least you could recognize me”) really had me convinced that we were going there. I guess we still could, but there are a lot of “ifs” standing in the way now.

Steve:

Another disclaimer: Steve is absolutely my favorite Avenger, and I ship Steve/Peggy really hard.

Aaand I still felt uncomfortable with the resolution.

Maybe it’s just the difficulty I’ve been having getting my head around the time travel shenanigans.

So a lot of the criticisms I’ve heard/read about Steve going back to the 1940’s to Peggy seems to be functioning under the assumption that Steve is living within the timeline as we know it in MCU canon, staying completely hidden, and just not changing any of the bad things that canonically happen: Bucky becoming the Winter Soldier, Hydra infiltrating SHIELD, etc.

But we’ve been told that time travel doesn’t work that way – that Back To The Future, Doctor Who way – in this universe, right? This brings me back to my Alternate Reality take. So my understanding is that after Steve returns the infinity stones to the points in time that the Avengers yoinked them from, he basically occupies an Alternate Reality for a lifetime (Tilda Swinton’s thing about the branched off timelines being consumed by the ~forces of darkness~ only applies IF the infinity stones aren’t returned, and he took care of that). And he could’ve done anything in that Alternate Reality – married Peggy, saved Bucky from Hydra, prevented any wars and disasters he could. Basically it was Steve’s own personal Happiness AU. And then, (presumably after Peggy’s death), he uses the Pym particles and the Quantum Realm to return to his original reality.

Except, in that case, shouldn’t he have returned on the platform instead of dramatically showing up on that park bench?

So…I’m confused and I don’t like it.

Even from the Alternate Reality take, the situation of that choice is complicated. In choosing to be with Peggy, he’s tearing himself out of the lives of all of his loved ones in his Original Reality – Bucky, Sam, Wanda, (whatever the situation was with Sharon Carter that we absolutely never resolved?), etc.

And we’re not completely sure it was a choice, exactly. It’s possible that in the ongoing work to return the infinity stones, Steve somehow got trapped in the past (don’t know why he would’ve had to go to the 40’s, but I guess he could’ve run out of Pym particles there and had to wait for Hank to invent them to even be able to make the trip back).

Also, narratively speaking, it feels a little like we’re invalidating Peggy’s grief, and her character growth that went on in Agent Carter (even if her happy ending with Steve is going on in an Alternate Reality). I wasn’t totally sold on Peggy and Daniel Sousa yet (though I do like Daniel as a character a lot), but Peggy had a whole lifetime that didn’t involve Steve except as a beloved memory. Where is she in that arc when Time Traveler Steve comes back into her life?

Also, even if it IS an Alternate Reality, there would STILL be a version of Steve frozen in the ice in the 1940’s in that reality. How do we deal with that?

And how do we deal with the fact that Steve isn’t the man that Peggy lost anymore. He still loves her, but he’s changed, he’s lived almost a decade since then. How do they find their footing with each other? I’m sure it isn’t impossible, but it’s interesting, and it’s not addressed at all.

I think that’s what bothers me the most – that this is a whole huge adventure – Steve’s entire LIFE – that we’re shoehorning in at the very end of the movie without showing any of the really interesting bits or answering any of our questions about it. I guess that leaves the situation as a fertile ground for the imagination, and maybe that’s a space that the MCU intends to explore someday? I would absolutely watch the hell out of Steve’s Time Travel Romance with Peggy, somebody take my goddamn money.

Anyway, I’m happy about Sam taking up the Shield as Captain America. Bucky-Cap also could’ve been great, but I feel like, with the place we left Bucky in his recovery, he doesn’t need that responsibility yet. Let him rest. Wherever we’re going with the series featuring Sam and Bucky is going to be really interesting, and maybe we’ll get to the point where Bucky really wants to work towards atonement and is ready to share the burden of the Shield with Sam? I’m looking forward to finding out.

Overall, most of my feelings about the movie were pretty positive. It was a complicated story to tell with a lot of characters, and mostly it was handled pretty well. Some of those threads did fall flat for me, but they didn’t totally invalidate the parts of the movie that worked.

#spoilers #Avengers Endgame spoilers #Endgame spoilers #long post #I had in my outline that I was going to talk about Clint #but I accidentally skipped that #it's briefly in Natasha's section #I could go into it more but this is already too long

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ladyknightleyisundercover · 6 years

Note

Hello! I love the way you write the Weasley dynamic, your family fics really are so lovely, so thank you for writing them! I'll read anything you write but I'd really love it if you were to write something about Arthur and Percy, post-war, like them reconciling? It's such an interesting relationship and I'd love to see your interpretation of it :)

Thank you so much, you’re very kind :) I hope this nonsense meets with your approval! [read on AO3]

“Who’sthat coming now?”

It’s sortof a rhetorical question: everyone they’re expecting for Sunday lunch hasalready arrived, barring Percy and Audrey. And, given that The Burrow hassecurity wards which prevent anyone who isn’t on a pre-approved list crossingthe boundary (courtesy of some family connections to the Auror Department), itcould only really be the two of them.

Well,three, technically. Audrey is carrying baby Molly, who is wrapped up in ahand-knitted blanket (courtesy of her namesake), and beams at them as she walksup the garden path. She looks the picture of maternal bliss, even more so whenshe’s implored to take a seat, no, honestly, right there, and would she like adrink? Something to snack on? Would she like to put her feet up, rest a while?Everyone else will look after her gorgeous daughter for her, it’s fine (clearlythe namesake wins this battle, taking baby Molly from her and immediatelysnuggling her into her arms with a long-practised sigh of contentment).

“I said, who’s that?” George repeats, undeterredby the lack of enthusiasm for his set up. “Is it Percy, or is it a packhorse?”

If hiswife’s load is simply the baby, Percy has: two enormous, overstuffed bags, outof the top of one is flowing several spare babygrows; a carrycot; two towels; achanging mat; a packet of nappies; three stuffed animals; two rattles; whatappears to be some kind of mobile, which he’s slung around his neck like it’s apiece of avant-garde jewellery; another handknitted blanket; a muslin clothover his shoulder, and Audrey’s handbag.

Red facedand sweating, he deposits all of this on the kitchen table. It takes a while,and his brothers watch in grave silence as he does it. When everything is linedup, he nods in satisfaction and turns back to them. “Ah, Harry!” he says,spotting him among the sea of gingers. “Just the man. Did you manage to getthat report to Kingsley on Friday?”

“You’ve…um…you’vegot…” Harry gestures to his own left shoulder, and Percy mirrors him.

“Ah, yes,”he says, the pink flush on his cheeks intensifying. “I was wondering where thatone had got to.” He removes the muslin cloth and sets it down on top of one ofthe overstuffed bags, which immediately topples over, spilling its entirecontents of baby paraphernalia all over the kitchen floor. There’s a cough, whichmight be a laugh, from Charlie, and Percy mutters something which just might bea curse word very quietly.

He flickshis wand at it, and everything flies back inside—neatly folded—and the bagrights itself. “So, Harry,” he says, dusting down his trousers. “That report?Only, the Minister wanted to be able to give a full and frank report to thePeruvian embassy by Tuesday, which will only be possible if—”

“I’msorry, are you planning on moving in?” Ron asks, staring at the pile now coveringthe kitchen table in horrified fascination.

“Of coursenot,” Percy says stiffly. “I just like to be prepared. As I was saying, by Tuesday,and then he wants to arrange a meeting with—”

“For what,the apocalypse?” asks George.

Percytakes a deep breath. “For any eventuality,” he says, teeth clearly gritted.“Now, the report must—”

“Yes, Igot it to him,” Harry says quickly. “Everything’s all sorted, don’t you worry. So…anyonesee the match yesterday? How ’bout them Tornados?!”

Whateveranyone might have thought about the Tornados is lost as one of the bags—the onethat hadn’t fallen on the floor—suddenly starts moving from side to side, withwhat sounds like muffled groaning coming from within. “Uh…guys…” says Charlie,who was closest. “Anyone checked on the Ghoul lately?”

“Bagsie Iget to use the highly trained Auror as a shield!” George says, pushing Ron infront of him.

“Oi, Harry’sone as well, you know!” he says indignantly.

“You’re onyour own there, mate,” says Harry, eying the bag—which is slowly moving itselfto the edge of the table—with some alarm.

“Yes, andbesides, I’m less scared of what Hermione’d do to me if I injured you in theline of duty than what Ginny’d do if I injured him in the line of duty,” explainsGeorge.

“That’s…prettyreasonable,” puts in Charlie, eying the two of them (and looking like he’sgetting ready to dive into the pantry if the bag does start heading in hisdirection).

Percy digsinside the bag, extracts what is apparently some musical, moving toy (“Who didthey get to do the singing, Auntie Muriel?” asks George) and switches it off. Hisbrothers silently watch as he stuffs it back inside the bag (along with threeextra babygrows and two books on raising a newborn which had to come out tomake room for it).

That done,he dusts off his hands, and turns back to Harry. “So. The Peruvian delegation. The Minister and I have discussedthis, and we agree that—”

“That’sit,” Bill says, finally getting to his feet. “We’re staging an intervention.”

“Excellentidea,” says Ron, and he and Charlie grab one of Percy’s arms each and push himinto the chair Bill has just vacated.

“Percy,old chap,” says Bill. “Look.” Hegestures to the small mountain of stuff Percy has placed on the table. “Really look at all of this.”

“Yes,”Percy says, with as much dignity as a man can muster when two of his brothersare pinning him down in a chair. “I see. There are one or two things there. However,as a father yourself, I’m sure you of all people understand that it isnecessary to always be prepared for any eventuality, especially when—”

“Get himup, lads,” Bill says, then gestures for Ron and Charlie to frogmarch him overto the window. “Look.”

Out in thegarden, the Weasley women are still sitting with Audrey and baby Molly. “Lookat my wife,” Bill continues. He has his back to George, but still manages tosense that he has opened his mouth at this. “Don’t. Now, on her lap you will see a child. Our child.” Fleurdoes, it is true, have a firm grip on Victoire, who is absolutely fascinated bythe new toy that is her baby cousin. “You will note that, by her feet, there isa bag.” This, too, is true. “A bag that is at least half the size of that onethere.”

“A third,I’d say,” Ron puts in.

“In thatbag,” Bill says, “there is one spare of everything our daughter wearing.”

“And Mr Flamey,”adds Charlie.

“Who?”asks George.

“Dragon,”says Charlie. “She was showing me, before you got here.”

“Ah.”

“And MrFlamey the stuffed dragon,” Bill allows. “Now, that is more than I would’vecarried around in my young, unwed days, to be sure. It is not, however, halfthe contents of our house. We have a toddler: she is capable of running veryfast when she wants to, usually into enormous messes. Molly, delightful as she is,cannot even sit up on her own accord. We are all here for Sunday lunch. Atmost, we will be here for four hours. Why is it, therefore, that you need tobring so much stuff that you could feasibly survive for six months on the moonwith no other human contact?”

Percy glares.“Each item has a specific purpose!”

“And theyare?”

“Would youlike me to go alphabetically, or strategically?”

They’reinterrupted, then, by the arrival of Arthur.

“Ah, helloboys,” he says, surveying the scene. “What’s going on here, then?” His cheerfultone is unchanging, but his sons start shifting around awkwardly anyway.

“We’restaging an intervention,” says George as Ron and Charlie quickly drop Percy’s arms.

“Anintervention! Excellent. Into what?” their father asks, smiling politely.

“This!”say at least four voices, gesturing at the kitchen table.

“Oh, Isee,” he says, affecting to have only just seen the enormous pile. “What isthis all for then?”

Percyturns puce. Harry makes himself recite the Aurors Code of Practise, backwards,to keep his face poker straight, but Percy’s brothers are not that kind, andlaughter rings out through the kitchen.

“Seriously, Perce,” says George. “Havesome faith in yourself. At most, you’d only get through three babygrows in anhour, and that’s if we have a repeat of The Incident.”

“What’sThe Incident?”

“The onewhere I was babysitting Vic when she was six months old, and I had to changeher, only there wasn’t any spare clothes I could find, so I had to wrap her in myshirt, but then—”

“I really don’tthink we need to hear this story again, especially when we’re going to beeating in about half an hour.”

“How come I haven’t heard this story?! I’m herfather!”

“Okay, butdid Audrey ask you to bring all of this?”

“No,really, what’s The Incident? I think I have a right to know”

“…becausewhen she came to Victoire’s birthday party a couple of weeks ago, I saw her—shehad a bag smaller than the one Fleur’s got now, and I don’t think—”

“TheIncident, guys!”

“Fatherhood,”Percy shouts, “is a very important job and I am going to do it right! And if that means beingoverprepared, then it means being overprepared! If I say we need all of this,we need all of this! And you can all…be quiet!”

Everyoneis immediately quiet. This allows for Audrey’s voice to drift through thewindow, talking about how happy and lucky she feels that, so far, everythinghas been so straightforward, and that Molly is such a good, easy baby.

Arthur looksat the dark circles under his son’s eyes. He sees his jumper, with itssuspicious stain on the left side. He recalls how, at work, Percy’s once plain,totally unadorned office now has photos of baby Molly on every possible surface.And he takes in the mountain of stuffthat is currently all over his kitchen table.

“Boys,” hesays, “go out there and ask your mother if she needs anything done for dinner. Ithink we must be nearly ready to think about serving up.” His tone is cheerfuland upbeat still, but there is a firmness to it which makes everyone obey, andthey shuffle out of the kitchen.

“Not you, Percy,” he adds quietly. “Come on,”he says, once they’re gone. He picks up two of the bags and tries not to winceat their weight. “Pick this lot up and follow me.” Even with his father’s help,Percy’s still staggering under all the items, but he dutifully follows hisfather round the side of the garden to his shed.

“Come on,”Arthur says, seeing Percy hesitate. He pushes open the door and gestures to himto follow him inside.

The shedhas always been Dad’s space, all of the Weasley children knew that almost frombirth. You did not go inside without express permission—and once you were inside,no matter how tempted you were, you did not touch anything. As far back as any of them could remember, every singleshelf was covered with incredibly tempting stuff—mostlymuggle items, a few of them useful, many of them not. From his prized possession(a working car battery) to the tiniest trinkets, everything had its place.

And it wasn’tjust Dad’s junk, either—genuinely useful things (the toilet plunger, forty-sixdifferent screwdrivers, instruction manuals for devices long broken, theChristmas decorations) were kept in there, but woe betide anyone who went ineven in the most genuine emergency to get something without permission. Theshed was overstuffed (magic, Percy allowed, probably helped here) and everysurface was always covered with something, but Dad could always lay his hands onthe most esoteric items in a heartbeat.

Today isno different, except for the fact that one shelf, on the far wall, iscompletely empty. In this always packed room, it stands out like a sore thumb. “Nowthen,” says Dad, “I’ve cleared a space.” He nods towards the empty shelf as thoughit’s perfectly normal, and not the first time in Percy’s life he’s seen the barewood.

“What for?”

“I assumeyou have doubles of everything at home?” Dad asks, gesturing towards Percy’s manybags.

He nods.

“Excellent,”Dad says, smiling. “So, what I suggest is that you leave everything here. Thatway, whenever you come here, you don’t have to worry about packing everythingup, you can just bring the baby and go. You don’t need to worry about bringing thekitchen sink, eh? All your bits and bobs already here, and a load of your mind,yes?”

“But…”

“Come on,look, I’ve cleared you a shelf! Let’s see, if we put that carrycot at the farend, then we can stack some of the smaller items inside of it. How does thatsound?”

“Thatsounds…good,” Percy says. He gives his father a tentative smile. “And…andmaybe just three changes of outfit will be enough to keep here. I’ll take therest back with me.”

“Bettermake it four, just to be on the safe side,” Dad says cheerfully.

They setto, getting everything stacked up on the shelf and leaving a small pile over bythe door for Percy to take back home with him. It’s the work of mere moments,and everything is neatly placed almost before he realises. The shelf is fullagain, only this time with baby things, and not hardware.

“Excellent,”Dad says, slapping him on the back. “All done. Now, d’you reckon we can go andchivvy the others into producing some food? I’m quite hungry after all that.”

“Okaythen,” Percy says. “Wait…Dad…the shelf…how did…?”

“Oh, Icleared it off when I say you coming,” says Dad. “I thought you might need aspace for little Molly’s stuff, so I got it ready for you. What was it yousaid? Being a good father is about being prepared, right?”

“Dad…”Percy says, sounding a little choked up. “You don’t need to take lessons from anyone on being a good father, least ofall me.”

“Who saidanything about any lessons?” Dad says mildly. “It’s just being practical. Andprepared.”

“Two keyDad skills,” Percy acknowledges.

“Well,yes,” says Arthur. “And ones you have in spades! Isn’t little Molly lucky?”

Percygrins. “She is,” he says. He steers his Dad towards the door. “Me, too.”

#hpfic #weasley family #weasleys galore #my writing #idk how to tag this #idk if its any good either but i wanted to distract myself this afternoon and i had this lovely prompt from ages back so thank you thank you #and this seemed appropriate given that it's father's day #and i challenge anyone to come up with a greater fictional dad than arthur weasley

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scurvgirl · 7 years

Text

Late Nights and Sleepy Days

@feynites said: Caracals are mostly nocturnal; tiny Lasvala does want to sleep?

Ah, parenthood - a saga on lost sleep never to be regained.

tagging @lillotte17 for fluff.

Fatherhood is a mixture of being proud all the time, tired all the time, worried all the time, and dirty all the time. There is no question that Irathar loves his child. Lasvala is a precocious ball of laughter and happiness and he loves them.

But he wishes they’d just sleep.

It’s’ gotten worse as they’ve gotten older, which is not what should be happening. They have no issue with napping during the day, even at seven, but when it comes to sleeping at night, it’s a disaster. It’s not even that they fight sleeping, they’re just not tired.

Irathar is constantly tired, he has no idea where this energy is coming from. Is it the moon? Is his child lunar powered? Mystery assures him that there is no such thing as a lunar powered child but Irathar is certain there is a first for everything. And besides, Lasvala is special. They have already proven themselves to be exceptional at shifting, even at such a young age, they excel with almost all magic for their age, and they were walking and talking earlier than normal. They are exceptional.

And perhaps it is because of the moon. They were born under a full moon after all.

Or maybe Irathar is looking for sense in a senseless situation.

“Sleep is good, baby, you get to be in the Dreaming!” He coos. The rambunctious child pokes their head out from under the couch and shrugs their currently feline shoulders.

“I’m not tired.”

How are they not tired? They were at the pools all day. Wait.

“Did your Nenae let you nap at the pool?”

“Yeah, because I was so tired and the sun was so hot.” They complain then quickly disappear back under the couch. He thought he talked about this with Courage. They need to establish a more normal sleeping pattern, one that is going to allow them all to parent. Mystery is the only one who seems remotely able to able to adapt to Lasvala’s desire to stay up all night, and sleep most of the day.

Irathar likes the day, and he is a firm believer that night time is for sleeping.

Lasvala darts out from under the couch and leaps up onto the console table in the hallway. Right, sleep time.

Courage is sleeping at the barracks tonight, trying to re-bond with their soldiers and showing that they’re still tough even after having a baby, which makes little sense to him. Irathar saw the birth and honestly how anyone can believe that you are softened by that ordeal, he has no idea. He fainted.

More than once. And he wasn’t even the one pushing a baby out!

And Mystery is busy on shoring up a new pathway for the Eluvians, so he’s not home either. It’s just Irathar and Lasvala.

Their child jumps off the table and heads for the office-turned-playroom. Irathar follows them to find them playing with a large ball. They chase after it, laughing and mewling in equal measure.

“Play with me, Babae?”

It’s past midnight. But whenever they ask like that, who is he to refuse? He may be tired, but it’s the name of the game. Irathar takes a deep breath and takes after Lasvala. He tosses small toys to them and runs around, trying to pick them up as they run and exhaust themselves.

Please exhaust before I have to stop, he hopes.

A fruitless hope.

Lasvala has boundless energy, jumping around, chasing things. Even in their shifted form, their energy seems endless. But then a beautiful thing happens.

Irathar collapses on his back on the plush rug, his eyes threating to close against his will. He fears that he will pass out and his child will be left unattended, running wild through the house, somehow discovering any sharp objects that have been hidden away. But then Lasvala crawls over, now once more just an elven child and looks down at him quizzically.

“Hello, baby,” he says on a yawn. They then too yawn and hope returns. Sleep, please sleep. They shift down so they rest their head on his chest, snuggled up to him.

“I’m tired now,” they say and he lets out a long breath.

“Me too, baby, me too.” His eyes flutter closed and his breathing deepens. Yes, sleep here is good. He curls an arm around his child, securing them to him, in one last effort to keep them close before losing the battle to remain conscious.

….

Through the hazy fog of rest, Irathar hears footsteps in the hall. He almost rouses himself when he recognizes Mystery’s cloaked form in the door frame.

‘This is not either of your rooms,’ he signs.

Irathar grunts and shifts on the carpet. It’s still comfortable and he is not going to move, not while there is a successfully sleeping Lasvala on him. But Mystery simply nods and removes his mask, gloves, and outer cloak before crawling down next to Irathar. He drapes his cloak over Lasvala and Irathar before snuggling in himself.

This is…unexpected. But good. Yes, he likes this. Soon Mystery’s breathing evens into soft snores that lull Irathar back into a deep sleep.

….

Irathar cannot feel his arm. That is the first sensation that makes its way to his brain in a proper register. His arm is numb, there are weights on his chest, but other than that, he is warm and comfortable. But he has to pee. Unfortunate.

He carefully stretches his back from his position and slowly cracks his eyes open to take in his surroundings. Light is streaming in from the window, illuminating the two sleeping figures on him. His lover and his child, both curled up against him, using him as a pillow. It is a little ironic considering Mystery is the taller of the men. Lasvala is sound asleep, so asleep in fact that they don’t even stir when Irathar slowly extracts himself from the pile and puts Lasvala on Mystery.

Irathar quickly makes his way to the facilities, relieves himself, throws on a fresh robe and heads to the kitchen to prepare a modest breakfast of eggs and fruit. He also fries up some bacon for Lasvala who seems to insist on eating meat at every meal, just like their Nenae.

In the end, Lasvala is the first to wake and sleepily shuffles into kitchen.

“’M hungry, Babae,” they say, rubbing at their eyes.

“I know, baby, your food’s almost ready.” In a moment, he plates their food and gets them settled at the little breakfast nook. Maybe he should make them some toast, he recently read that children should eat more bread to get big and strong. Lasvala is already ahead of the growth curve though, does that mean they don’t need the bread?

“Would you like some toast?” Irathar offers. Lasvala shakes their head, gnawing instead on the thick cut bacon. They go for the eggs next, then the fruit.

They almost fall asleep halfway through their meal but Irathar is determined to get them on a regular sleeping schedule and he’s starting today. He can’t keep pulling nights like last, and he can’t be the only one to want this either.

But maybe he’s fighting biology. Mystery is a notorious night person, staying up all night only to sleep the day away. Courage is just averse to sleep in general, they seem to get all their energy from food and the people around them. In this household, Irathar’s normality is strange and maladaptive. The rest of the empire operates on regular sleeping schedules, however, so it really is best if Lasvala learns.

“You need to stay awake, baby,” he gently admonishes. They sniffle and lift their head up.

“I’m sleepy, Babae,” they groan. They lift their arms up and make grabby hands at him, like they were still a literal baby.

“Cuddle?” They ask and no. No, no, no, no.

That is unfair. That is…no.

They yawn and little canines stick out from their mouth. It could be possible that they are one of those people who is so comfortable in their animal forms that they toe the line between being an elf and an animal. If they’re that tired, they shouldn’t be able to just shift their teeth…unless it feels more natural to them than not having those teeth.

They really may be more cat-like than he had initially given them credit for. And if that is the case…then this sleeping schedule he is trying to force them into is a bad idea.

He has research to do. But in the meantime, he supposes he can give in for now and cuddle them while they sleep the day away.

He’ll adapt…or he’ll demand Mystery stays home this time. Yes, that sounds good.

It’ll work. They’ll all make it work.

#my writing #poor irathar #he just wants sleep #irathar #lasvala #mystery

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