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tommming · 6 months

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Adoption analogy for trans gender identity

One of my favourite analogies for being transgender (and people should use this more in my opinion, I came up with it idk if anyone else did too) is adoption. (and I am aware that adoption in our society has some problematic issues in its current state, but that’s not the point, especially because humans throughout history and the world can and do adopt children).

When an adult adopts a child, and the child is happier and healthier because they have someone to care for them, and the parent and the child both like to refer to each other as mom/dad and son/daughter, would you deny the reality of this relationship or refuse to use the words mother/father son/daughter?

Some adoptions will be more visually obvious than others (like inter-ethnic), and this can lead to mean and invalidating comments and assumptions about the relationship.

In adoption situations, it’s clear that the medical implications (genetic diseases etc) are not the same as biological parents and children.

And some kids will at some point decide they want to call their adoptive parents “adoptive parents” and reconnect with their biological parents, and maybe have two sets of parents, and this is accepted, because parent can mean different things.

Everyone (idk i’ve never met an adoption hater) accepts that this is all valid and in a sense real, because who counts as a parent or son/daughter is just words, and even if they usually have a concrete biological basis, it would be quite disrespectful and unhelpful to refuse to use the words to include adoptive parent/child relationships.

As you can piece together I am sure, the visually obvious adoptees are analogous to visually obvious trans people, medical concerns are analogous, and different sets of parents is somewhat analogous to the somewhat nuanced way sex and gender all fit together (like someone can be male and nonbinary or whatever) and that whatever the adoptee kid says about their relationships is probably what others should accept, and just the whole thing is analogous! Especially it’s really the same type of thing: People accept the fact of adoption / gender as something that is socially and psychologically real despite lacking the biological basis that typically defines these things, largely because many of the important parts of what defines these words/concepts actually does apply to the situation, and importantly I would argue everyone is better off because of it! (better both because of the actual adoption / transition itself and because of the validating language and people being understanding of it).

You could argue that adoption reduces the resources available for real parents/children (parenting clinics, family therapy, family lawyers, etc.) You could argue that is degrades and distorts the meaning of what a child is (so that immigrant parents wanting their children to be reconnected with them might have less legal leverage, or that after someone dies it’s no longer enough to be a biological child to inheret their stuff if they have no will, because being a child no longer has any real definition). You could even argue that it perpetuates unhelpful stereotypes about parent/child relationships (for example I know someone that had an abusive mother and is lowkey triggered when people talk about maternal love, and it’s not helpful at all for people to assume that everyone’s parents are nice and caring and present or even existent/known because so many children’s parents are not, or that parents are responsible and have rightful authority over children, which is a dangerous idea for children that are abused by their parents). But are these realistic concerns? Why or why not? I’m not saying this is exactly the same as gender issues, but it has similarities for sure.

I think these ideas are interesting and important and I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I really think this is a great analogy, and shows how I wish the world would be about transgender people (accepting and validating, even legally, without suspicious concerns and without any delusions or misconceptions about what’s real or not).

Furthermore, if you want to really get into it, both the idea of being a parent and the idea of being a woman or man have an interesting similarity, due to both of them being being complex concepts that involve biology and social relations and stereotypical characteristics and all kind of stuff. Someone who is a father to a child that died before the child was born, and left nothing for the kid (wasn’t married lets say), is a parent, and so is an adoptive father, notice how there is absolutely no single fact that these two dads have in common except for the identification as a father. I think this is very similar to a very masculine cis woman that is consistently mistaken for a man, lives a very masculine life generally, lets say perhaps has had medical issues with her hormones throughout life, and has no real attachment her gender because she is a gender studies professor and knows about how its all bullshit (I knew a professor that was a lot like this), and a trans woman, who is technically male, but passes effortlessly as a quite feminine woman and has since being a little child gravitated strongly towards girlhood and said she’s a girl, and grown up to take hormones etc., although not yet done bottom surgery (you probably are aware of this, but there are many trans women that fit this description). There is not a single fact that makes these people both women other than their identification as women. Both are quite atypical, but both have good reason be called women.

This is why I think that gender is actually a circular definition. Men are men because they are considered men, women are women because they’re called women. Just like parents are parents because someone called them a parent. There are a million and one things that are typical of a man or woman or parent, but none are completely definitive (in my view), and that’s okay because they are just words and words are tools to understand the world. And likewise I think other complex concepts are probably like this too. Religions, languages, families, crimes, salads, idk! Trans women are women because we regard them as women.

#transgender #radical feminism #adoption #gender #feminism #philosophy #analogy #logic #anarchism #ethics #trans women #trans men #trans positivity #trans rights #women's rights

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trufannekiawilson · 2 years

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An idea of how I would rewrite Fallout 4 has been rattling in my head. Characters will be shuffled around and their motives will be different. I’ll expand on the characters and factions changes in other post because this post will end up being way too long. For this post I just want make changes to the main story. This will mainly apply to our main character, Shaun and the Institute.

The game will begin with your character being woken up from cyro sleep. Codsworth the Mr Handy robot is the one who welcomes into the world. Codsworth will belong to vault tech and is not yours like in the original. Codsworth will explain your player character seems to be suffering from a bit of amnesia from being frozen for so long. Codsworth will try to get you to remember who you are. This will lead into the customization screen and you’ll also choose your special stats. Afterwards Codsworth will explain he doesn’t know why everyone is dead. You can pass a speech check where he explains that someone activated him and told him to release you. He doesn’t know who or why. You can of course look around the vault and if you pay close attention you will notice one of the vault dwellers has a gun shot wound. If you search them you can find a wedding ring. After you finish exploring the vault you and Codsworth will leave the vault and head to Sanctuary Hill.

I feel placing the opening sequence later in the story makes for an interesting mystery. Who are you? Who were those people with you in the vault with you and why are the all dead? Why did someone release you? This way you can get to know your character and decided who they are by the way you play. You did not need some holotape that over explains your backstory and will always be there no matter what. Did we need to know that Nate and Nora were a solider and lawyer? No. And I understand that some people don’t like Codsworth being a household Mr Handy because they were generally used in military bases or as guards. Making Codsworth a vault tech Mr. Handy that was activated by Shaun to wake up your character a bit more believable. I will expand on Codsworth in this new role in another post.

The game can pretty much proceed as normal as you meet the Synth Detective Nick Valentine and he takes you Dr. Amari in The Memory Den in Good Neighbor. Remember your character is suffering from slight amnesia and the pods in The Memory Den will help you unlock the mystery of what happened in the vault. When you are hooked up to the memory pod the original the opening sequence set during pre-war will play out. This is where you’re revealed to have a spouse and baby, then the bombs fell, you were rushed to the vault and frozen. So the random vault dweller with the gunshot wound whose ring you probably sold for caps was your spouse. But how did they die? The memory den will glitch. You’ll see a man in front of cryo pod and before you can get anymore answers the memory starts glitching and you are pulled from the memory. Dr. Amari will explain that your character seems to repressing the memory and there was a danger of hurting you if she tried to force you to remember. Nick will comment that he knows the man who is Kellogg and you will track him down like in the original story. When you retrieve the chip from Kellogg’s brain you watch from his perspective that he murdered your spouse all while you helpless banged against your cryo pod and took your baby to the Institute. The same Institute that your character has learned from the locals is a terror of the Common Wealth. There will be a memory where you can see old Shaun but the player doesn’t know that this is our son yet. It will be very obvious who those persons that gave your character extreme proportions. But for now you will only know this person as Kellogg's boss and the leader of the Institute. Shaun will tell Kellogg to track down and kill Virgil and Kellogg will state in the memory that Vigil is in the glowing sea so he couldn’t get to him. Your next objective is to find Vigil and find a way to save your son from the Institute.

Because I moved the orginal pre-war back story I didn’t want to show the killing of your spouse again from Kellogg’s perspective. It just keeps the pace flowing. In the orginal story showing your spouse’s death once was tragic. Showing it again from a different angle is just “Alright cool, I can see my character banging their hands against the glass.” As you tried to find Kellogg you should have learned with your interactions with the NPCs of the world you should be able to draw your conclusions of the Institute. How much of what people say is true? If they really are that bad what does that mean for your son? You now can put a face to who is in charge of all the abductions and fear mongering. When you find Virgil he can confirm all the horrible things the Institute has done but also the good as well. Vigil can put that doubt in your mind that maybe they aren’t all that bad. Any good or bad sad against the Institute the player will always have their leader’s face in their minds.

Honestly speaking the biggest failing in the main story of Fallout 4 story is that I do not care for Shaun and the Institute. They are a terrible faction because they are never given a good reason for anything they do. Which is a darn shame because they have a lot of plot threads that lead no where. Why did they kick ghouls out of Diamond City? Why are they making Synths and still turn around and treat them like slaves when they have robots? What is the point of replacing people when you are capable of just paying off the traders for information? They have a lot of protentional that could make a player ask a lot of moral questions but writing just drops the plot as quickly as it is picked up.

The Institute could have been well intentioned but misguided scientist faction truly trying to help mankind. The moral dilemma is the ways they go about in trying to solve problems of mankind. Firstly start by giving Shaun a personality. We should interact with him as much as possible. You could like him like you would Nick, or Piper or any other companion. First he would give you little innocent tasks. With each task you complete the more he encourages you, he tells you how happy he is to have you there. He even starts to call you mum or dad. But then he’ll start asking you to do things where someone had to pay the price for in cruel inhumane ways. Sometimes there may or may not be a positive effect. For example they are working on plants that resist radiation and don’t have radioactive effects when consumed. A lot of the food that is grown in the Common Wealth that settlers are surviving on came from the Institute. You can have NPCs say once upon a time food was hard to grow but now suddenly growing crops has gotten easier over the years. This new crop growth is the only possible after kidnapping people and testing their new foods on these poor people to confirm it was safe for human consumption. Will you bring them new test subjects? Another example is instead of the Synths being slaves they are meant to be the next step in human evolution. But the Institute is obsessed with creating the perfect human and not robot slaves. Unfortunately if you do not reach the standards of the Institute you are considered a dud and cruelly experimented on. The Institute thinks these synths suffering are necessary because to them they are helping humanity. Some synths will understand that they aren’t to the Institute standards and believe their sacrifice is for the greater good. Others will not and will try to escape with the help of the Rail Road. Will you help the synths or is their suffering justified because good will come from it? Maybe Shaun will request for you to kill Piper or Nick. Diamond City is under their control and they don’t need Piper or Nick around because they are a liability. Your actions should have consequences and impact you personally. I want the player to question at the end of the day when working with the Institute if the ends justify the means.

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 headcanons #fallout quest #fallout 4 companions #fo4 #sole survivor #nick valentine #piper wright #the institute #synth detective #synth #fallout 4 story

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tricksterrune · 3 years

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60 with Pipster, please? :o)

"You look like you could use a hug"

Piper startles. Not awake, because he wasn't asleep. But more alert. They're all drinking and he's clutching a can of whatever in his hand. The writing started to get a bit blurry after the 3rd can to be honest. With a gargantuan effort he turns his head to look at him. It feels like it's made out of lead. Then he blinks and the blurs resolve themselves to James sitting on the stool next to him. In the background the Rogues alternate between playing pool, cheating at pool and then arguing about who started cheating.

There's a neon spark in his vision - whatever drink James placed in front of him is bright purple and probably contains enough sugar to give you instant cavities.

About a minute his brains gives Piper a nudge - he hasn't in fact responded to James at all, just turned his head in silence.

"What?" he asks as eloquently as he can in his state.

"You look like you could use a hug," James repeats himself.

No, he heard correctly the first time.

Piper knows he can be a bit of a maudlin drunk (as well as a rowdy, shouty drunk) but he didn't think it was that obvious.

Sometimes it gets a bit much - judgemental classmates, even in the small classes at his private school, his so-called peers who know nothing of him besides his father's name and then of course his parents. Usually he has a good grip on his two lives - scion of the Rathaway family at day, Pied Piper, maestro of malevolence at night. He sheds his school uniform (or the blazer he has to wear in their country club or whatever), picks up his bag of goodies and by the time he left their estate, he feels better.

But today had been a bit much and the bars of his golden cage don't want to let him go. His mother (who is usually the better one of his parents) gushed over a photo of him and Samantha DuBois, taken at a fundraiser party, and announced how good of a fit it was and how her family was respected (and rich). He felt like a cow to be sold and there's still the fact that he's actually gay and if he ever got married, then certainly not because of his in-law's reputation. But his parents can't process anything that goes against their world view and he used up his lifetime's supply of goodwill when he was born deaf.

They'd never understand. He entertains fantasies of standing up to his father, announcing their worst nightmare to be true - gay criminal genius son - but the outcome is too scary. He could stand to be disowned and work a normal job, there's not a great deal of parental support he'd lack (he guesses) and the public's opinion of him doesn't matter to him. But could he? He never had to work a day in his life (or cook, or clean, or fill out paperwork - how does one rent an appartment, exactly?), there's the security of a trust fund and his father's neverending supply of lawyers should he get into trouble. Piper can just stop being Piper for a while if the heat gets too much and the others can't.

Then there's always the faint treacherous hope that they would understand or accept and things could get better between them.

Suddenly he realizes that he's still sitting on the stool in the corner, can clutched in his hand, James next to him. For how long was he spaced out? James must think he's absolutely plastered (which he is, but still). It's just the weight crushing him down. He'll wallow in misery for tonight and get back up again tomorrow.

A pair of arms sneak around his neck and there's the hug James offered. A small thought tells him that normally James doesn't bother asking, the concept of personal space is alien to him. This is him being considerate. It's nice.

"How much of that did I say out loud?" Piper asks quietly, face pressed against James' shoulder.

"Enough," he replies.

#pied piper #hartley rathaway #james jesse #the flash #captain cold

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imonthinice · 3 years

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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 16/?

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name

I put two days into this chapter<3 I guess the timeline may speedup a bit<3

Warnings: Jail discussion, Victim Shaming, Fighting, Mentions of Injury, Disassociation, Disconnect, Trauma, Swearing, Mentions of alcoholism and drug use, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Family game night was well underway in the Wayne Manor when Y/N got a phone call from the prison that Justine Wong, her high school friend who went to jail protecting her, was incarcerated in until her trial or the man who attempted to assault Y/N dropped the charges.

She excused herself and went outside in the Autumn weather to take the call.

“Hello.”

“This is an automated call from Gotham County Prison from Inmate ‘Justine Wong’, to accept this call please press 1.”

She did as such.

“Thank you for your cooperation. All inmate calls are recorded. Your account balance is $50.69.”

“Hello?” Justine asked into the phone.

“Hey, it’s me. Why are you calling? Are you alright?” Y/N asked.

“I need you to come here and get me a lawyer.”

“You’re up my ass right now, aren’t you? I thought he was dropping the charges?”

“He isn’t. Christopher, Thomas, Kaitlin and I seriously need your help now.”

“Are you all in the same prison?”

“Yes, they transferred over the boys yesterday because of this. We can all meet in a recorded room while you get us a lawyer.”

“Fuck, dude. Uh,” she thought about game night, but decided this was more important, “Do you need me now?”

“Yes, we can all get into the room and then you can meet us, I think the jail is 10-20 minutes of a walk away from the Manor?”

“Fuck. Okay. I’ll be there.”

Click. She thought about going back inside and asking someone to drive her to the jail, but she was also just not prepared to answer anyone’s questions about it. It was cold outside, but if she ran she could get there in 10 minutes. But that’s when Bruce joined her outside, she assumed Jason sent him because he was crushing his siblings in Monopoly at the moment.

“So, I’m friends with the commissioner of the county, Jim Gordon,” Bruce said, “And I know what your friends are dealing with.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s plastered all over the news or anything,” she said to Bruce, with a slight [massive] amount of sarcasm tinged in her voice.

“Do your parents know?”

“If they did I wouldn’t be in Gotham anymore.”

“Do you need a ride to the jail?”

“Yes.”

“I can do that, no issue.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“Anytime,” he said before leading her to one of his cars.

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

In the car, Y/N tried to keep up conversation with Bruce, it was a short drive but the time seemed to slow and he could tell she wasn’t talkative. This was, what he thought was likely, very, very stressful for her. He was used to this, the court dates, the police station, but he knew that her attackers’ court dates were coming up and she was going to need emotional support, since her parents weren’t in the city.

He didn’t know how to support her as the dad of her boyfriend, he’d probably just mention it in passing to Jason and Jason would deal with her. ‘Deal with’ probably was not the way to describe the girl that his son was dating, especially when she’s in as much emotional distress as Y/N clearly was in that moment, but Bruce was terrible with wording.

She didn’t even want him to bother with her emotions about it all, because she didn't know how she felt. She didn’t know anything about the situation and how it made her feel, she just froze in the sight of this confrontation and hid from it all behind a mask of seeming to know what she was doing.

They pulled up to the prison, and she got out of the car and waved off Bruce before walking to the front desk and saying who she was and why she was there, providing her ID if need be. They led her into the backrooms, and told her that the room was being recorded and that she couldn’t touch them before letting her in the room.

She looked at the 4 of her friends who were all being charged with assault and battery.

“Y/N?” Thomas asked.

“This... this is surreal. Didn’t think we’d ever end up like this,” she said, looking at the floor before crossing her arms.

“What do we do now?” Kaitlin asked.

“Do any of your parents have enough money to pay for a lawyer? I can call them for you,” Y/N said.

“You didn’t already call them?” Christopher asked.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve been pretending this entire thing doesn’t exist, I don’t want it to exist.”

“But we need a lawyer,” Justine snapped.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well you should have gotten us a lawyer!” Justine snapped again, raising her voice.

“Now is not the time to yell at her, Justine,” Thomas interrupted.

“Shut up, Thomas! You,” she turned to Y/N, “Look at me! Look what you made us do and you can’t even look us in the eyes!”

“I didn’t make you do anything, Justine.”

“You’re the one who’s a fucking alcoholic and can’t handle her drinks so she almost got raped! You’re pathetic.”

“Now is not the time to victim shame me, Justine” Y/N sighed, “What you’re saying is very hurtful and makes me not wish to help you anymore, understood? You can lash out at me to get the anger out, but this isn’t my fault and you know it,” she said, finally locking eyes with Justine.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

They continued talking about what to do for hours, with Y/N ignoring most advances Justine made to prove the point that yes, she was pissed at Justine about what she had said to Y/N.

Y/N wasn’t taking anyone’s shit anymore. Ever since she met Jason, and pissed off the press, she stopped letting people get away with everyone, she stopped telling people what they wanted to hear.

And people were noticing, especially her 4 friends in that room. She was trying to get better, to recover so she wouldn't relapse, and it was obvious.

“Y/N?” Justine said.

“Justine?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am aware. I’ll be calling your parents when we’re done here.”

“So do you forgive me?”

“I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“You’ve changed.”

“Good,” she turned to the other 3, “Anything you 3 want before I leave?”

“Nope, that’s it,” Thomas said, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“That’s everything yeah,” Kaitlin said, “Thanks, man.”

“What they said,” Christopher joked, “Thanks.”

“Alright, I love you 3, I’ll try to arrange phone calls with you 3,” she said putting emphasis on the word 3. Oh yeah, she was pissed.

She would leave the room without even saying ‘goodbye’ to Justine. She would tell the police she was done with the meeting. They asked who would be handling getting lawyers to the 4 kids, she said she would call their parents. Commissioner Gordon walked up to her and held out his hand, “You must be Jason’s girlfriend. I’ve know that kid all his life basically, I’m Commissioner Jim Gordon,” he said.

“Y/N,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I know these last 2 weeks have been extremely stressful for you, Y/N,” he said.

“I think everyone’s caught onto that.”

“I called Bruce to come get you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

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

Meeting new people filled her with a lot of life after the hell she was pulled through. From stabbing, to head injuries, to friendships crumbling, to court, Y/N was being strewn through the wringer.

She knew it would calm down eventually, she was just being put through a few bad weeks for a lifetime of happiness, and she hoped that happiness was with Jason.

She couldn’t think much longer when Bruce pulled up and she got to the car.

“How was it?” he asked.

“Do you really want to know, Bruce?”

“I do. The justice system can be draining.”

“You could say that again,” she joked, “So, where do I start? Well, I get in there and tensions are high, obviously. I’m sure prison sucks when they shouldn’t really be there, they did the job the vigilantes here do, and we all let them do it. Anyway... my friend I guess, she comes at my throat about my attack,” she paused, trying to swallow her pain, “Starts blaming me for it, uses my alcoholic past against me, you know, the stuff you shouldn’t do. I don’t care if she’s right and I shouldn’t have drank, but she fucking led me to the bar.”

She fumbled with her hands a bit, still trying to not cry, “Anyway, I told her that she can’t talk to me like that, that I won’t let her talk to me like that and she apologized. Guess what? I said ‘You should be.’ and I know that might not mean much to you, Bruce, but I would have never stood up for myself like that had I not met your son, you did something right with that boy, Bruce, I swear,” she joked, “But that was about it, I have to call everyone’s parents to get them lawyers, but that’s it.”

“I figured you had a backbone from the start, kid,” Bruce said in response.

“You kidding? I had to ask Jason if you would hate me for flipping off the press? I’ve never, ever had a backbone.”

“Well maybe, besides the lack of protection,” he joked, “Maybe Jason and you are a good couple.”

“You think so?”

“I think so.”

“Thanks, Bruce. Really. Your kids are a hoot to hang out with and you’re not half-bad yourself, old man.”

“Are you going to start calling me that, too?”

“Maybe jokingly.”

“I’m not that old, kiddo.”

“You just called me kiddo and you think I don’t deserve to say you’re old? Really? Bruce, c’mon, you’re smarter than that.”

“You don’t deserve it. You’re just going to do it.”

She laughed, “About the protection lecture, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn’t on the pill, Bruce. I appreciate the concern, but you were so wrong about us ‘not being prepared’.”

He laughed, “Maybe you should have said something.”

“You never asked me, Bruce.”

“I wouldn't make a good detective, then.”

“That’s why Commissioner Gordon is on the cases I’m involved in, and not you.”

He paused, “Isn’t your head-butting buddy’s trial starting tomorrow?”

“It is.”

“Are you going to watch it?” he asked, off-handedly, “I think Dick might, just to see what the ‘sicko’ looks like.”

“I’m definitely going to watch it,” she laughed, “Might even make it an essay for school.”

“Well that’s one way to handle it.”

“Might as well turn the sick fuck who tried to turn me into a ransom note be turned into a 100% in my classes. Call it; Classy Revenge.”

They pulled into the driveway together, while Bruce was laughing at the comment Y/N made. She laughed, too. It helped heal some of the wounds she experienced over the 2 weeks of knowing Jason, even some of the prior wounds. Bruce told her that the kids were still playing Monopoly, none of them had apparently gone bankrupt yet, it was 12:00am.

To say she was impressed with Jason and his siblings would be an understatement, she remembered playing Monopoly with her family, and they’d all always declare bankruptcy within an hour or so, and thee was never a back-to-back winner when they all played.

Maybe they were bad at managing money, maybe thee Wanes just were too stubborn to declare bankruptcy and they bent the rules of Monopoly a little bit to suit their family, she didn’t know.

They walked into the house and sat back down, Y/N at Jason’s side where she had been the 4, or-so, hours before. Everyone seemed to acknowledge her presence and wished to ask her what happened, but no one knew how to bring it up to her. They knew she wasn’t used to the life of court and trials, the needing to talk to police, it was really one the Waynes and the kids of police officers that were used to tat stuff.

She pretended to not notice them wanting to ask her and opened her phone while Jason tried to negotiate for the 4th railroad from Tim, to see her mother texted her.

How are you, sweetheart? Her mum had asked.

I’m fine, mum. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

I should, but I can’t sleep thinking about the trial of your attacker

Same. It’s such a stressful situation.

I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling through all of this.

She couldn’t put how she felt into words. How the way that the moments she was in the alleyway made her feel. the way that man’s face was burned into her memory to be a constant reminder tat she wasn’t safe wherever she went. It was something she had never experienced before.

Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was pain.

I don’t know how I’m feeling either, Mum.

How’s your nose?

It’s healed basically. No more nosebleeds at random intervals.

You didn’t tell me about the nosebleeds.

I didn’t tell anyone about the nosebleeds, Mum.

Why not?

I don’t need people to worry about me, to feel for me, to make their times and schedules molded to fit me. Good intentions or not, I don’t need charity hand outs.

Then do we stop paying your rent?

Well, I mean you could. I wouldn’t stop you from stopping paying my rent, but the difference is that you giving me money is to keep me at the top of the school, to make myself the best I can be.

How badly would your studies be impacted if we stopped paying your bills?

Probably massively. Don’t worry, mum. It’s a two-year program and then I can get my own job and make enough money. I’ll get you a little house on a hill and you can be the Queen of the Hill.

That’s nice of you honey. We should both try to sleep if we’re trying ot catch the trial today.

Goodnight, Mum.

they were all still glued to the game, when Barbara chose she would take the risk and ask Y/N about the meeting.

“So, how was it?” she asked, innocently.

“How much time do you have?”

“We have pretty much all night, the others can go at this till the trial tomorrow,” she joked.

“I mean, challenge accepted,” Y/N laughed, “So, we pull up to the county jail, right. I wave off Bruce, no big deal, everything was going to plan, which should have honestly been my first sign that things were going to be fucked, but I digress,” she paused, “I walk in, give the lady my ID and she looks at m funny, like she knew that I had been drinking underage in that moment and was disappointed in me, as she should be.”

She fiddled with her hands, “So they lead me to the back and before they do they tell me the usual, I can’t touch any of them and my conversation with them will be recorded, then they let me in. I greet everyone like the good friend I am but tensions are high and everyone’s on edge, which is understandable, but.”

Jason perked up when she put emphasis on but, knowing the story was about to get real, really quickly.

“My friend Justine, she called me to get me there, she starts going at me about how this is my fault for being an ex-alcoholic and drinking, which, yes, i should not have been drinking. But she lead me to the bar,” she paused, “She starts blaming me for how I almost got raped and putting them all in there, whatever,” she paused again, “I basically told her that if she wanted my help she was going to have to behave and be nice to me, to which, she apologized,” she paused.

“You didn’t accept that apology, right?” Stephanie asked.

“God, no. I said I’d consider forgiving her. Everyone else was fine though. anyway, I have to call their parents and get them in contact with a lawyer soon.”

“You’re still doing that even after that whore victim-shamed you?” Jason said, he seemed in awe that Y/N would be so kind to someone who did her so wrong.

“Jay, I’m borderline legally obligated to do that,” Y/N said, “I wouldn’t do it if she hadn’t saved me.”

“I think you still shouldn’t do it,” Damien said.

“And you seem very vengeful, Damien. But that’s only sometimes me.”

“Look, thou shalt not sin or whatever, love thy neighbor or whatever, but that girl wronged you in that conversation, do you really owe it to her to call her parents?” Tim asked.

“You know, for a family who’s known for being the ‘Nice Billionaires’ you all tend to really hate my choices,” she joked.

“Don’t make dumb ones, and we wouldn’t judge,” Tim retorted.

”Okay, smartass. I hope you go bankrupt.”

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

Waking up next to Jason on the day of her attacker’s trial was something to her. The comforting aura of the room seemed to be stripped away because the sun hadn’t risen, the blinds didn’t need to be closed, and Jason wasn’t cuddled up next to her.

She would find him already dressed, pacing back and forth in his room. For her 3 back-to-back days of being in Jason’s house without going home, she never saw him this actively distressed about anything. But given the situation they found themselves in, it was understandable.

Someone actively threatened her life for an attempt at a ransom on her name, because she was now tied to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce had money. Of course, for the Wayne household, the kids and Bruce were used to ransom attempts on themselves, with some of them actually being taken hostage before, but Y/N wasn’t.

She defended herself, and since it was, thankfully, caught on camera unlike the attack on her attempted-rapist, she didn’t have to appear in court, she didn’t even need to video her side of the story, she wrote it in a letter and sent it to the District Attorney's office. The District Attorney, being the prosecutor, was obligated to give her statement to the defense, so she was curious as to how her words would be spun to fit their narrative.

Jason and Y/N were both in the criminal psychology major at their college, they both knew what they were in store for, and they both had the ability to tear the defendant into pieces the minute he spoke. If, he spoke, that is.

Jason didn’t seem to notice that she was awake. He was really lost in his own thoughts, his own concerns. He stopped pacing though, and he was just staring at his laptop, possibly zoned out from the situation.

She got up as quietly as she could and went to hug him from, she could hear him let out a little chuckle, so she greeted him, “Good morning, Jay.”

“I thought you were still sleeping,” he turned to look at her.

“I was, but I woke up, that’s how that works,” she joked.

“That’s insane I would have never thought people wake up after they sleep,” he said with heavy sarcasm, “The more you know.”

“Insane, I know,” she said, “I still don’t even have clothes here,” she laughed, “I really need to go home eventually.”

“No you don’t, what?” he said with more sarcasm, “You can just wear my clothes, baby.”

“I don’t think they’ll fit, Jay, I think you forget you are literally massive.”

He laughed, “Listen, being massive is not my fault.”

“How is it not your fault?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“I am asking questions, I am curious now.”

“Shhh,” he joked, “No need to worry.”

“Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and he’s got rippling abs? But zero cause for concern? Where do you even find the time?”

“Well, when you’re not over it’s during my downtime.”

“Can’t believe you won’t work out in front of me,” she laughed, “That’s just rude.”

“You already have free entertainment here,” he joked.

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

Somehow she found clothes that somewhat fit her so she could go downstairs and watch the start of the trial. She didn’t know if she could sit through the entire trial, she was victim. No one expected her to be able to sit through the entire thing. It was a lot different from studying trials to actually being a part of the trial.

There was more of an all-seeing-eye presence in the living room of the Wayne Manor that morning before the trial began. The sounds of reporters through the television while everyone sat and waited for it to begin, it was not something many would enjoy.

There would be an ending to this story, to this court case, whether it was a month from that moment on that couch or a year from that moment. There would be justice for that bullshit.

Part of her didn’t even want the trial. She wanted the man to take a plea deal. She didn’t want to be in the spotlight when murders were happening. But no one would let it go, a beautiful woman being hurt in an attack against her? It was the kind of stuff that the news sources wanted, craved, from every court case.

And that was the thing about it. She didn’t want to be the tabloids newest escapade into being more and more corrupt, broken, deceitful.

She looked to the television as Jason put his arm around her, bracing for any sort of reaction to the news. No one really knew how she was going to react. And then it started.

Cameras were being let into the courtroom and panning over to him. The man who had attacked her in the alleyway. She subconsciously brought her hand up to her nose and felt it. For a moment, it was like she was back in that alleyway, head-butting that man and then running to the Manor. But she wasn’t there and she knew that, trying to snap herself out o that state brought nothing, though. It took the Judge having to shush the entirety of the courtroom to get her attention back to the real world.

The Judge would introduce himself to the press, but mainly to the court, and then request opening statement. Or at least, Y/N thought that was what he was doing. She didn’t really know what was going on, something pulled her away from the court trial she was witnessing for the man who attacked her.

To the outside, the people surveying her to make sure she was okay, her eyes seemed to glaze over and she seemed to just disconnect from the situation. But they didn’t realize she had disconnected. She just looked to be in thought.

She saw colours fade in and out of her sight, people showing up in front of her, him showing up in her sights, the images dancing in her mind as if she was there in that courtroom.

The time began to slur in her mind. Hours became minutes to her. And before she knew it, court had ceased fro the day. She was snapped out of it by Jason letting her go. He offered to drive her home, she agreed.

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

“Y/N?” Jason asked while they were in the car.

“Uh huh?”

“Are you alright?”

“Good question,” she answered, flatly.

“Are you?” he asked, seeming more concerned.

“Probably not.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Is that a no?”

“Mhm.”

He reached to place a hand on her thigh, attempting to comfort her, “That’s okay,” he said, “You don’t need to talk about it.”

“Mhm.”

He sighed, “I’ve decided something,” he said, “I’m going to spend the night at yours, just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

“You still don’t have to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“Okay, here,” he smiled, “Have I told you the full story about the time that we did chair-racing in the halls of Wayne Manor?” he asked.

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well, what happened was we ended up flying down the halls at like 4 in the morning, right? Well,” he paused, “Dick used to be an acrobat, so when he almost went flying off the stairs, he actually caught himself on a handstand on the rails. Chair still went flying,” he said.

She smiled a little bit. He knew he was doing something right.

“We ended up breaking a vase. Bruce was okay with it because it wasn’t his parents, but Alfred was pissed at us for it. Grounded us all for weeks about it.”

“As he should.”

“Look at me go, getting multiple word answers out of you, and I even got you to crack a smile,” he laughed and grabbed her hand to hold it, “I’m just so good at this boyfriend thing.”

She smiled again. The smiles wouldn’t last for long, but they did happen. He knew the trial was traumatic for her. He could tell. Just from the way she drooped after the trial ended, she could normally not shut up when it came to Jason, so this was out of character.

When they got to her house, he would walk, basically lead her, to her house. She was so far disconnected from everything, that he even just let her rest in her bed with his clothes on and her shoes still on, because she wasn’t functioning.

He would crawl into bed with her and let her rest her head on his chest.

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alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom · 3 years

Text

THE MASTERPIECE: CHAPTER 2/5

Pairing: Modern!IVAR x Reader x Modern!HVITSERK

Warnings: strong language, mentions of torture and the warning that you’ve all been waiting for -> SMUT, unprotected sex, NSFW

Spotify playlist: here (only for those who like latin urban music)

Words: 2682

a/n: This MASTERPIECE was so much fun. It was such an honor to do this with you @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie, you are so talented! Every hour of writing and editing was definitely worth it!

Summary:

Ivar and Hvitserk had always prided themselves in being the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. They had a comfortable life full of everything they wanted: houses, cars, money, and the most beautiful women. And with all of that came the security of always having the upper hand. But what happens when a bewitching girl from Ragnar’s past arrives into their lives claiming his fortune?

1 month later

When the waitress set down the two black coffees on the table, Ivar raised his eyes to study his brother’s face. “Why did you call me here? Are you finally going to tell me what she did? I know it was her you were seeing!”

“What? No! What are you talking about?”

Since Hvitserk stayed in silence, Ivar pressured him. “Brother, I saw Y/N’s underwear in your room, you can’t try to fucking deny it...”

“Oh really? So, explain to me how you know that it’s her underwear, dear brother? I know a lot more than you think. How come you spent the entire night in her home the day after she signed those papers? I didn’t know that your ‘business meeting’ had to be sofucking long and that you were going to get hickeys from it.”

“How do you know about that?” Ivar cleared his parched throat.

“Our chauffeur told me. Or rather I made him tell me.” He grinned wickedly.

When Ivar stared at him blankly, his sibling explained: “My knife needed to be sharpened, and I thought his throat might have been a good place to practice.” Hvitserk said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ivar exhaled annoyed at Hvitserk’s antics. He had a habit of getting the family name in trouble with petty lawsuits. “If he sues us like the last guy that we fired...”

“Relax. He won’t. Start talkin’.”

Ivar hated to be the one showing his cards so soon at the beginning of their conversation. He always liked to have the advantage, letting other people speak first so he could turn their words on them but still, he agreed to go first. “Okay.”

He let the words pour out from his mouth, recounting the first time they’d ever seen her in their lawyer's office and how they followed her back to her house that first night.

“So, we agree on everything that happened until then?”

“Yes.” Ivar concurred.

“And what happened after?” Hvitserk took a sip of his coffee and leaned back.

“Well, I spent the entire day thinking about father and his decision. Just... running through every possible scenario in my head but I still couldn’t understand. By dinner time, I couldn’t handle the frustration anymore so I called the lawyer, fed him some lie and he gave me her number. I reached out to her and she didn’t want to talk to me at first, obviously, but...”

~~·······~~

“Please don’t hang up! Just give me two seconds! It’s me, Ivar!”

“Wrong number. I don’t know anyone by that name. Bye.”

Ivar could only hear the mocking beep of the dead line and he felt incredibly stupid. But he couldn’t just leave it like that so he made his chauffeur drop him off in secret and leave. And there he was again, in front of her house. He knocked on her door and stood some feet away from it in case she came out and slammed it as she’d done on Hvitserk. His knees were shaking.

Why is this girl making me so nervous?

Possibly because he had never been rejected. His money was a guarding shield whenever he wanted to impress a woman and have her forget about his messed-up legs. But now that he’d lost all of it to her, his defenses had been weakened.

Y/N opened the door and she was immediately annoyed by seeing him again.

Suddenly, he forgot what he wanted to say. “I- I’m Ivar.” He stuttered pathetically.

“You?” She raised her eyebrows. “You are Ivar? The one who called me? Have you lost something or what is the matter now?” She really didn’t care for his answer, but she still felt compelled to talk to him. Maybe she could have a bit of fun and toy around with him for a while.

“Can’t you give me five minutes of your time? Please? I need answers.” He bowed his head and dried his sweaty hands on his pants, hoping her eyes wouldn’t notice.

“Five minutes and not a second more!” Y/N took a step to the side and let him in. “Where is your brother? He’s your brother, right?” She walked into the living room and Ivar followed her.

“Yeah... he doesn’t know that I’m here. I wanted to do this alone.”

She ordered him to sit down as she stood in the kitchen with her arms crossed. “So, talk now. Your time is running out.”

Ivar wanted to wait until she sat down too, but she clearly wasn’t going to. The awkwardness only increased by the second so he just jumped straight to business. “My father and I had a very close relationship. I can’t understand why he planned all of this in secret. I mean, the Lothbrok-Sigurdsdottir empire is highly regarded. He was a hard-working man, very appreciated by others... It makes no sense that he would leave all of his belongings to you... I mean, who are you even? You never introduced yourself to us and father never mentioned you.”

Y/N gritted her teeth to try and push down the rage she felt at the mention of Ragnar’s name.

“Well, despite that, I’m sure he loved you,” Y/N said ignoring his question. Still, she was a bit moved by his words. His baby blue eyes seemed honest enough. She walked to her kitchen to serve two glasses of chilled wine and began to be interested in what he was saying. “This is for you, let’s have a drink… I won’t tell anyone that you were here. Promise.” She sat to his side, leaned into his space, and stroked his hand with her thumb. “Can I tell you something?”

Ivar took a sip of the wine, gulping it loudly. “Yeah.”

“You are a very attractive man, Ivar. I feel that we should get to know each other.” She bit her lip and moved closer to him. “See it as a thank you for your trust...” Her fingertips traced the skin on his toned arm.

Ivar blushed like a schoolboy. “I think I should go. My five minutes are over.” He got up and put the glass on the coffee table. “Thank you for your time. Maybe we could see each other again and talk about a compromise. In the meantime, think about it.” He didn’t want to make her angry again. It was strange, the way he felt around her...

“Ivar, wait. I mean it, I want to know you better. Why don’t you stay?”

He’d already reached her dining table on his way to the door when Y/N closed the distance between them effortlessly to squeeze her body against his until she was close enough to catch a whiff of the slight smell of wine that perfumed his breath.

“Then I could tell you everything about me. Isn’t that the reason why you’re here?” She purred with a sultry voice and a devious smile.

Ivar closed his eyes but didn’t dare to kiss her. Instead, he gripped her waist, and her dress creased in his hands.

Without wasting much time, she pinned her lips against his, profiting from his nervousness.

Y/N sat down on the table, her ass crumpling some stray documents but she didn’t care. She hooked her legs around his hips to draw him closer.

“Who are you?” He mumbled confusedly before she hushed him up.

She undid his belt and pulled his pants down as far as necessary to get to his cock.

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.”

“Later.” She grabbed him by his shirt to pull him closer and kiss him roughly.

“I can’t…” He held her hand in place to stop her.

Y/N guided his hands over her breasts, kneading them. “Trust me”. The snaps on her dress made it easy to slide it off.

She noticed Ivar’s passive behavior. “Would you prefer to sit?” She pointed to the sofa giving him a seductive look.

Ivar felt very insecure.

What if I can’t please her? Will she still like me? I’m not like other men... How should I tell her? Or does she know that already?

He nodded shyly and she entwined her fingers with his hand to lead him back to the sofa. He was relieved over the fact that they were alone. No one could ever find out about how pathetically he’d been acting around her.

She crawled on top of him looking deep into his stunning blue eyes, eyeing him hungrily. His lamblike attitude made her shiver and her cunt throbbed. It felt good to have the upper hand. She finally slipped off her dress completely and threw it to the floor.

Ivar gulped when he saw her lusty gaze.

She took off his shirt and ran her palm slowly over his upper body to feel each of his solid muscles twitching for her.

Ivar’s skin turned to gooseflesh and he moaned ever so softly. He followed Y/N’s lazy hand with his gaze.

She reached his shaft and he almost stopped breathing.

He closed his eyes as she dropped her head against his forehead.

She squeezed his semi-hard cock. “I’ve been thinking about this moment ever since I saw you standing at the door.” She wrapped her hand around it and stroked him from the base to the tip and back down again. Her tongue brushed over his lip and slipped into his mouth to chase his.

Dear Odin, this girl could kiss.

Her sensitive pussy rubbed against his stiff cock. He had no clue how she’d made him so hard in so little time and smirked when he realized what was going on.

Y/N put her panties aside inconspicuously and placed the tip of his dick in front of her soaking wet entrance, rubbing in quick circles.

Ivar clenched his teeth to prevent himself from moaning again. She tossed her head back, feeling her walls sink around his cock. His gaze was focused on her face.

Ivar was stretching her pussy and a harsh moan escaped her mouth. She had her eyes closed and her whimper made it sound as if he were hurting her, which unsettled him.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Ivar held her hips tightly against his crotch.

“Aren’t we at it already?” She tried to continue but he still held her in place. “You better start touching me instead of talking so much, Ivar.” She hissed against his ear, biting it.

He nodded but didn’t know what to do with his hands. He felt under pressure to please her.

Y/N put her hands on his chest to ground herself. Her hips moved like waves; with every movement his cock sank deeper and deeper. She did it carefully so as not to hurt him and eventually, Ivar loosened up. She pressed her torso against his and her bare tits rubbed against his chest and he grunted a low growl.

Ivar pushed Y/N’s hair away over her shoulder and nibbled on the soft skin of her neck. His lips moved to her collarbone, sinking his teeth deep into it, making sure that the imprints would stay long. His hands caressed her breasts, sliding down her belly, close to her mound but never so close as she wanted.

Y/N heard his hoarse moans and increased the pace, making Ivar forget about his disability and his every insecurity.

He was breathing heavily and his body tensed. His thighs twitched and she knew that he was coming as he let out a guttural moan while he spilled himself inside her. He was too shy to moan her name loudly.

She kept up the rhythm chasing her own release while Ivar’s fingertips sank painfully deep into her waist. She was so close. Y/N’s hands tangled into his long hair pulling his face closer to hers, needing more of his delicious tongue. She could definitely see his appeal.

Ivar’s brisk and urgent kisses triggered her orgasm, making her open her mouth to gasp for air. She opened her eyes, feeling dizzy and pleased.

Ivar’s eyes, in turn, glinted with satisfaction. It had been a long time since somebody had blown him away the way that she had. He’d never met a woman who contradicted him and even rarer still, one that was brave enough to order him around.

“Do you have a towel nearby? I think we made a mess.” He said out of breath, smiling coyly and staring at her perfect breasts.

She took a pillow and covered herself with it. Ivar’s cum ran down her legs as she stood up to look up for the towel and his face flooded with blood with the knowledge that he’d been the culprit.

“Hey, catch it!” She tossed a small towel to him and disappeared into the bathroom.

~~·······~~

“You're staying here tonight.” It was more of a statement than a question. They were sitting on her bed as she ran a comb over the strands of her wet hair.

“Doesn’t it bother you though? I can sleep over there if you want to.” Ivar pointed to the living room. He had never stayed with a woman overnight. It was a rule to keep himself from falling in love with them.

“We fucked less than fifteen minutes ago and then you stared at my tits for another fifteen

minutes-” Y/N exaggerated with a smile, wagging her comb. “-and now you dare to ask me if I mind that you sleep in my bed?” Her good-smelling hair dripped fragrant drops onto his thigh. “Of course, you can. I want to fall asleep in your arms... I want to feel safe, Ivar.”

Her words made him soft inside and awakened his protective instinct. Ivar didn’t notice the wicked glint in her eyes because he was too busy placing a sweet kiss on her forehead.

~~·······~~

Ivar was woken up by the smell of coffee. He strolled to the kitchen where the most beautiful woman he’d ever come across was standing. Her blue silk dressing gown matched the color of his eyes.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” She giggled.

“I- I have to go home. Hvitserk is waiting for me. You can imagine that my brothers would not be happy if they find out that I stayed the night here... And even less if they knew what we did.” He gave her a little kiss near her lips, hoping she wouldn’t get mad because he was leaving. “But can we meet again soon?” He took a sip of the hot coffee she offered him.

“Maybe… I’ll call you, ok?”

Ivar put his jacket on and glanced at her one last time; he wanted to memorize every inch of her face.

“Ivar... Thank you for the nice evening yesterday.” She caressed his cheek. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about us.” Her lips twitched upward.

~~·······~~

Y/N’s POV

Dear diary,

For some reason, Ragnar wanted meto be his successor. The same Ragnar who left me behind one day without bothering to think of my feelings. I spent the longest days in my life sad and alone, wishing I could change things. At first, Ragnar treated me like a queen, but then he banished me from his life like a worthless slave.

And now, these two handsome naïve boys will help me carry out my revenge. They are nothing but arrogant rich kids who don't know what hard work and suffering really mean. They don’t deserve his inheritance so I will definitely not share it.

I can’t believe Ivar the Boneless, the ruthless heir of Ragnar, the most terrifying of all brothers, the merciless rough son that everyone always talked about... is actually a tamed puppy.

He was still asleep when I saw the message Hvitserk sent him. Lucky for me, I wrote down his number. It was as if the gods wanted me to meet with him too.

Can’t wait to make him putty on my hands as well.

#ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #vikings #hbovikings #vikings ivar #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x reader #kattegat #modern ivar #modern hvitserk

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Lucky - JJ Maybank

Request: 15. “I don’t deserve you.” - “You deserve everything.” with JJ pls <3

A/N: I wrote a blurb similar to this a while ago and always wanted to expand on it/rewrite it with more detail so I did lol.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat in the holding cell, waiting for Shoupe to reappear and tell him that his dad was here to pick him up. He didn’t regret what he had done for Pope, if he had to he would do it all over again. But he also realized, the longer he sat here, that any hell he could endure actually being locked up was ten times better than inevitably facing his dad.

He could still remember the look on your face when Shoupe had pulled up and he’d taken the fall for sinking Topper’s boat. There was a list a mile long that Shoupe wanted to pin on him and knowing he could add that to it had him smiling like a kid in a candy shop. You looked devastated though, freaked out maybe, you’d gone back inside of Heyward’s before Shoupe had even finished putting JJ in the car.

“She’s just upset.” Kiara had said, doing her best to sound supportive. It was no use though, watching you rush back into the store had practically broken his heart.

If you’d thought it through you would’ve stayed until the car pulled out of the parking lot. But the only thing running through your mind at that moment was that you could not, would not, let JJ’s dad be the one to pick him up from the jail cell.

JJ kept his relationship with his dad under wraps for the most part but you’d found out how bad it was just two weeks prior and there was no doubt in your mind that you could not let him go home with his dad. You didn’t take the time to think about anything other than running inside to grab your phone from behind the register where you’d left it when Shoupe came in. It was a long shot, maybe, but you had to try.

“Must be your lucky day Maybank,” Shoupe called, walking into the holding pen and coming up to JJ’s cell, “your lawyer is here to bail you out.”

“My what?” JJ asked, too shocked to be smug.

“Lawyer.” Shoupe repeated, opening the door and letting JJ walk out.

At the desk, signing the paperwork for JJ’s release, was a well dressed man that definitely looked like he lived on the Eight. Not JJ’s dad by a long shot, not even someone he knew, though there was something familiar in the face. When the door opened to let JJ out onto the other side of the precinct the man turned toward him fully, introducing himself. Only when he heard the last name did it click in his mind.

“Not exactly how I imagined meeting my daughter’s boyfriend but I guess a trumped up vandalism charge is better than some other things.” He said, glancing at Shoupe purposefully.

You had been dating JJ for a solid four weeks, enough time to know that you were pretty sold on the pogue but not enough time to sell anyone else in your family. He hadn’t met your parents yet and he was putting it off because of obvious reasons, the most notable being that you were a kook and he wasn’t.

There was no way, according to JJ, that your dad would ever approve of you dating him. If there was a hierarchy in the Eight then there was one on the Cut too and JJ sat right at the bottom, lowest of the low.

“Just like, one dinner,” you had practically begged when you asked JJ to come over for dinner the week before. “my parents really wanna meet you.”

“Tell them they can wave to me when I pull in the driveway.” He joked, twisting away from you when you tried to shove him.

“I’m serious, this is important.”

“I’m serious too,” JJ replied, “they aren’t gonna like me. And they definitely aren’t gonna let you date me after they meet me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Clearly, you had been right. JJ didn’t know that at all because here he was with your dad, Shoupe finishing the last of the paperwork, explaining the charges and the cost of the fine and then releasing him into your dad’s custody. For once in his life JJ wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Thank you seemed like too little. He doubted that your dad truly knew what this meant, it wasn’t just getting him off of a charge, it was making sure he didn’t have to go home at the end of the day.

When they got out of the precinct you were right there, waiting by the car. You practically tackled JJ to the ground in your excitement, throwing your arms around his neck and hanging onto him for dear life. “I was freaking out.” You explained, lips brushing against his neck as you spoke. He kept his arms around your waist, holding you up.

Your dad cleared his throat, standing at the driver’s side of his door and waiting for the two of you to direct your attention toward him. When you pulled away from JJ to face your dad, he stared speaking, “there’s still some things to go over with the charges...like whether there is merit to them. I can reach out to Dr. Thornton when I get home. I expect you at our house for dinner...think it might be a good idea that we were properly introduced, since I just bailed you out of jail.” He said.

“Right, thank you too, for that.” JJ replied, a little stiff. Aside from Heyward, there weren’t too many adults that he was comfortable around.

“We’ll be back for dinner, promise.” You were already grabbing JJ’s hand, leading him away from the precinct and your dad, heading toward the Wreck. You had texted Kiara that your dad was springing JJ and asked where exactly she was planning a meet-up.

Not ten minutes ago JJ had been sitting in a cell considering all the things that would happen once his dad got there. That familiar disappointment settling in his stomach. He’d done a good thing for his friend, he couldn’t deny that, but his dad would never have seen it that way. In his mind it would’ve just been his only son, screwing up once again, proving him right that JJ was nothing but a loser. He had imagined the whole scenario, multiple times. Would he hit him in the car? Would he wait to get home? It was all a little more than he could handle thinking about.

“JJ,” you had stopped at the corner of the street for a traffic light only to realize your boyfriend looked almost catatonic as he followed you. “JJ?” You repeated yourself, pressing a hand against the side of his face and he visibly flinched before withdrawing.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“Are you okay?” You asked, “sorry I put you on the spot like that with my dad...I just didn’t want anything worse to happen.”

“It’s okay,” He promised. “I just freaked a little when I saw you run inside, I figured you realized this wasn’t what you signed up for.”

A kook dating a pogue wasn’t unheard of but JJ was a little off. Everyone said so. He was okay for a night, for a hookup, but he was a little too intense to go out with for longer than that. He was sure that firing the gun at the boneyard was going to be your limit but you kept showing up, kept wanting to hang out.

You shook your head, “I...signed up...for you. For whatever being with you was and I wouldn’t change my mind. I don’t wanna see you sitting in jail, I don’t wanna see Pope sitting in jail either, but I definitely don’t have any regrets or wish we weren’t dating or something.”

“When you went back in Heyward’s I thought it was over.” He admitted, remembering the feeling, like a weight settling itself on his chest and cracking it open.

“I just went in for my phone. I wanted my dad to get down there before Shoupe could call your dad. I was freaked that he’d do something.”

“I can handle him.” He lied.

“JJ.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He sighed.

You frowned, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him. Just hearing him say something so self-deprecating made you ache. “You deserve everything.”

JJ kissed the side of your head, closing his eyes, “...not how I wanted my first meeting with your dad to go though, I’m sure he already thinks I’m a loser.” JJ replied.

“He doesn’t. I swear. If he had any doubts he wouldn’t have been there. Besides...Topper’s a dick and he totally deserves whatever alleged thing happened.” You said, trying not to laugh.

“Hey you think your dad can get the video?” JJ asked, “Shoupe said there was video surveillance and I’m dying to see it.”

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @wldflwrskyee @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @aoba-josigh @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @louisolos @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @dpaccione @jolomez @summerkaulitz

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napoleondidthat · 3 years

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What Happened to Michel Ney?

So maybe you don't want to read the book, let's talk about this crazy situation in Napoleonic history. I've gotten a few inquries through the years on here that occasionally bring up P.S. Ney and the possibility that it could have been Marshal Ney. So let's delve a bit.

This whole event is like, to quote Churchill, a mystery wrapped inside a riddle, wrapped inside an engima.

Let's not get too bogged down in the life of Michel Ney. Most will have a working knowledge of the man. He was the last man out of Russia. He lead out the rear guard from Russia, encountering hellish conditions, Cossack attacks and every other type of FUBAR event that he could. He helped with Napoleon's first abdication and then famously said he would bring Napoleon back in an iron cage when he escaped from Elba (spoiler alert: he didn't). He fought at Waterloo, though by this time his relationship with Napoleon had grown colder. He practically went nuts on the Waterloo battlefield, fighting until the bloody end and until his sword had broken in two. Still he carried on, one of the last to leave the battlefield.

He was later arrested, tried for treason, found guilty and shot.

Other things to know in order to piece Michel Ney with P.S. Ney, would be that Ney was gruff in manner, but kind-hearted. Had a "plain way" of speaking. Shied away from notoriety, money and promotions. Married to Aglae (whom he called Louise) with whom he shared four sons. It is known he spoke both French and German and apparently a bit of English as well. He played the flute.

Trial of Ney:

Ney's trial was a bit of a mess and to abbreviate it down, let's say that he cooperated, gave answers in his interrogations, and his lawyers tried to argue that he (Ney) was protected by Article 2 of a treaty that was drawn up after Waterloo and when that didn't work, argued that Ney wasn't beholden to French law, because he really wasn't French but German, because of the part of France he hailed from. This did not sit well with Ney, who shouted out at the trial that was French and would die French. He also gave a different and incorrect(?) birthdate at the start and in a strange twist told his lawyers to stand down in the middle of the trial.

Ney was found guilty, something Ney seemed to know was going to be the conclusion, and his death was voted on in the House of Peers. Strangely, most of the men who voted on it, then immediately went to Richelieu and let it be known that even though they voted for his death, they didn't want to see the sentence carried out. This leads to people from Richelieu and maybe even Wellington seeing if the sentence could be commuted. The King had no interest in doing so.

During his trial, Ney was jailed first at the Concergerie and then the Luxembourg, back to the Conceergerie, back to the Luxembourg where he had a huge security detail surrounding him at all times. The government had heard word of the various plots out there hoping to rescue Ney and became paranoid to keep him jailed.

Execution:

Instructions were sent on how the execution was to take place, and in a change of plans, Ney would be executed outside the Luxembourg and not in a military ground where executions usually took place. The deceased was to be shot, then lie there for those to see for a quarter of an hour at least. Ney met his fate calmly when the news was read to him and was driven out a few feet to the firing squad. Here eyewitness accounts vary on what was said and how he died. He was to be blindfolded and put on his knees, something he declined to do. Instead, he faced the squad, upright, hand on his heart, proclaiming his innocence and saying to "aim high". Shots were fired, Ney dropped face first and a pool of blood was on the ground under him.

Ney was dead. Or was he?

P.S. Ney Reporting:

In the United States, a man who roughly fit the description of Michel Ney appeared in the Alabama, North Carolina, South Carolina, Virginia area as a school teacher. He had reddish hair, balding. He was a plain spoken man but kind hearted and imposing. He said he was a French refugee and had served under Napoleon. He wasn't prone to drinking, but when he did and took too much, he let it slip that he was indeed the one and only Marshal Ney who had not died, but escaped. Who helped him? He didn't really say but did mention to a few people Wellington. Others heard the Freemasons, who Ney was a member of, did the work.

Peter Stuart Ney never spoke of his father but did often speak of his mother who he said was Scottish. He said his wife and children were in France and he hoped to return to them one day. He claimed his wife was close to Josephine and Hortense (this is true). He said he had four sons, never spoke of daughters. Others said he said he had two daughters and a son. What they all agreed on was that this P.S. Ney was the best teacher they ever had. He was kind, fair, tough but just. He was the best swordsmen they had ever seen. He was an accomplished horsemen, a good marksmen.

He taught language: English, Latin, Greek. Was reluctant to speak French but could. Also spoke a bit of Polish and Hebrew (?). Some said he had a Scottish brogue, others said a German brogue, others said it just sounded foreign.

He also played the flute. But was also a poet and artist. Drew a wonderful portrait of Napoleon. He was a fierce Bonapartist. When he heard of Napoleon's death, he fainted and later slit his throat in a suicide attempt. It failed and he was doctored. Later when he found out Reichstadt had died and wouldn't be placed on the throne, he despaired and said he'd never return to France or his family now.

He had a portrait of Napoleon and Napoleon's grave on St. Helena in his classroom.

A few who knew him thought he wasn't Marshal Ney, some thought maybe a relation. Some later changed their mind, yes, he was Marshal Ney, some never doubted.

Stories abounded that Ney was spotted by French refugees who served in the Grand Army and would see P.S. Ney and immediately say "It's Marshal Ney!"

P.S. Ney had war wounds. Some of the very same wounds that Ney had had. A wound in the thigh, a wound in the shoulder, the foot. A scar on his face that he said he got at Waterloo.

P.S. Ney never returned to France, died in Virigina of typhus fever but made the deathbed confession that he was indeed Marshal Ney. He escaped. He was given a bladder full of red fluid to hold under his shirt and when he fell he was to crush that bladder so he would look like he had been shot. The firing squad was made up of his old commrades an they recognized his order "Aim high" because Ney in battle would say the opposite, aim low. When they shot, he collapsed and the bullets went over him. Barely. It was a risk, but one that paid off. He sunk into a coma but his last words were akin to "Bessieres is dead. Let me die"

Oddities of the execution:

Ney was shot point-blank range with heavy bullets. According to the official reports, 10 bullets hit Ney, one hit the wall behind him, and the blank. Three hit his head, one is arm, the rest into his chest. The power of the gunblasts should have thrown him backwards, not forwards onto his stomach. There should have been blood spray on the wall, but only one official report says Ney's blood was on the wall and only one says he fell back. Eyewitness accounts say he fell forward and that the only blood was from under him. Ballistic experts haven't been able to answer the question of why on this.

Ney's body was taken to the Maternity Hospital where it was claimed by his brother-in-law and secretary. According to some reports, as many as 500 people saw his body while at the hospital. However, there doesn't seem to be any accounts or mentions by people in power or memoirs that they went to view Ney's body. Not that this proves there was none. Only a few eyewitness accounts do claim to have seen him, one being Ida St. Elme, and there it is mentioned that Ney had his vest buttoned to his throat and there were bullet holes, but no evidence of them hitting the chest. One said that the body was lain in a dark room that made it hard to discern features. Another said he looked peaceful and slumber and no obvious damage had been done from the bullets. Yet...he was shot three times in the head with heavy ammunition and no damage?

He was buried the following morning and no one attended in the family except for his brother in law and secretary again. His wife never once came to see the body or claim it. He was placed in a lead coffin and then an oak coffin, a practice usually only done for royalty. Or could it be because there would be no body and the weight of the lead would hide it? His grave became a bit of a place to leave anti-royalist propaganda and they government decided to move Ney to a vault that would be nameless so people couldn't find it. This was done. Later Ney would be removed from that vault and placed back at the gravesite. At this time, his coffins were opened and his grandson said there was a body with three bullet holes in the forehead proving Ney did die and was there. Later, during the reign of Napoleon III, it was a common telling that Ney escaped his execution that Napoleon III had the grave opened and there eyewitnesses said there was no body in the coffins. However, as big as a revelation this would be, the papers are mysteriously quiet on this new discovery at the time.

There are no records of who made up the firing squad. To this day, we don't know who the people were or having any of their testimonies.

Ney's wife never would visit the grave and would later remarry but the marriage would be on the quiet side and only immediate family seems to have known she re-married. When she dies, she is not laid in the Ney grave, but in a church crypt with her sisters.

On the other hand, the Ney family never stopped trying to clear their father's name and worked at it, lost their money and Ney's sons were all under survellience due to their hostilities to the new government. One even challenged Wellington to a duel. All odd behavior if Ney wasn't dead. Or did they not know?

P.S Ney did seem to have the general look and enough in common with Michel Ney to pass as him. The wounds match up, except the the facial wound. Michel Ney wasn't documented of having a facial wound, not to say that he couldn't have gotten one at Waterloo. Ida St Elme claimed to see him on the field of battle with a bloodied face. On the other hand, there was no mention of a wound when he was on trial. P.S. Ney could speak the multiple languages, and though we know Michel Ney spoke more than French, there is no proof he ever spoke Greek or Hebrew. He could have picked up some Polish being stationed with the Army. He could have had an understanding of Latin from his studies and maybe he did learn Hebrew and Greek after. P.S.Ney was also very good at maths, Michel Ney has no documentation that he was a mathematician. P.S Ney was a poet and artist, no documentation Michel Ney was, except for the flute playing. However, all of Ney's sons were quite artistic. Could have Michel Ney become more artistic when he no longer was in the military? Maybe. P.S. Ney seemed to know some intimate details of the life of M. Ney, namely he called his wife Louise and not Agale. He also said she was dark eyed with black hair which seemed true. Could he have seen a picture of her? Michel Ney also also a very quiet man about his personal life, maybe he was these things and it just went undocumented. Michel Ney was with Bessieres when he was killed in battle, right next to him. P.S. Ney's last words harkened back to Bessieres being dead. If P.S. Ney wasn't Michel Ney it seems he certainly believed rightly or wrongly he was.

P.S. Ney didn't get everything right. Namely his mother whom he said was Isabel Stuart, who is not the mother of Michel Ney.

Conclusion:

I don't know. Though I am not convinced P.S. Ney was Michel Ney, I'm not convinced that Ney's execution was completely legit either. There is definitely weirdness abounding here.

If you want to delve into this more I strongly recommend Empire's Eagles by Thomas Crockner. I just gave the briefest of the evidence, but the book goes more into depth in other evidence that both points to things not being right and reasons they are also right.

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

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Taken Care Of (Derek x Reader)

A/N: I love a sick fic. It’s good, low-stakes hurt/comfort style fluff. The title was originally “Is it really love if he’s never seen you shoot snot rockets?” but since there was no actual said rockets, it seemed misleading.

Apparently, also my writing is prophetic because I’m finishing this under feverish duress of some sort of cold (its 81 degrees, I’m wearing a hoodie, and I'm freezing. This is bullshit.)

Word Count: 2437

Rating: G - descriptions of illness (mostly pain, dizziness), crying and self-deprecation

For what will soon become obvious reasons, this is set pre-movie.

“Derek? What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing the school lobby quickly to greet him, your friends trailing behind a little slowly.

“Hey Baby Girl,” he said with a grin. “You've been so busy, I feel like I don't ever see you. I missed you,” he gave you that pout he was frustratingly good at, the one that made you melt like butter no matter what else was going on, as he laced his fingers between yours.

“So you decided to visit me at school?” As glad as you were to see him, part of you wished he hadn’t just shown up. This hadn’t been how you planned for him to be added to this part of your life, and it wasn’t exactly good timing.

“I thought we could get lunch? I didn't know you'd be hangin out with your friends. Don't let me interrupt.”

His words nudged you, and you hastily made introductions.

“Oh, so you're the mysterious Derek. I always knew Y/N had good taste,” Alli hummed, looking over him with a flirtatious hunger.

You felt your stomach clench at the look she gave him. It wasn’t quite jealousy, trusting him far too much for concern to ever cross your mind, but something like fear settled over you. Or maybe it was just the nausea you’d felt all week, you tried to tell yourself. Derek seemed to sense the tension you held in every part of your body, and gave your hand an affirming squeeze.

“I don't know about mysterious,” he chuckled, “Y/N reads me like an open book.”

Jen laughed. “Perfect answer,” she slung an arm over your shoulder with a grin. “I like him. Definitely approve.”

“Ladies,” Alexi said, interrupting on their way past. “As curious as we all are to meet and drool over the boy Y/N’s been keeping to herself, let her have him to herself.”

They hooked their arms through the other two’s elbows who planted their feet and refused to be dragged away. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friends' antics, as tired and slightly embarrassed as you were. Derek was grinning at them, still holding your hand and keeping you tucked against him.

“Wait wait,” Jen protested. “Y/N. You’re taking him to Aida’s right? You have to.”

“I don’t know…” the smirk on Alli’s face continued to roil your stomach. “I’d just take him home.”

“What’s Aida’s?” Derek asked, hiding his face in your hair, surprising you that he was actually embarrassed by your friends’ comments.

“Only the best food ever,” Alexi answered with a smile. “Y/N can tell you all about it on the way. Just do that cute thing and share a milkshake with two straws, or I’ll hunt you. Byyyye.”

Giving up on pulling the others, they decided to push you two out the doors instead. Rather than dealing with more of their nonsense, you let yourselves leave, and stopped just out of range.

“Aida’s is a place around the corner. Cheap. Definitely knows how to cater to the student crowd. Good food, pretty amazing milkshakes. And coffee has unlimited free refills in a two hour window.”

“Sounds great. I wanted to take you to lunch. Do you want to?”

“It’s no big deal,” you shrugged. “I go there all the time. We should do something special, since you came all this way.”

“Y/N. You know I don’t care about that. I’m happy anywhere you decide. Besides,” he leaned closer to purr in your ear, words like honey sending a shiver down your spine, “I want to know all your places.”

“You’re terrible. Maybe another time. It’s a longer walk but...I’m feeling ramen?”

“Lead the way.”

You felt your steps dragging as you and Derek walked, trying your best to hide it from your boyfriend. Your lungs burned despite the walk normally being well within manageable, and several times you stumbled, doing your best to stay upright in the wake of a wave of exhaustion.

“I know you wanted to get lunch,” you said suddenly, pausing, “but can't we just get to-go and go back to my place? I’m pretty tired, and I really don't…I was just hoping for a nap before work tonight.”

He caught your hesitation and frowned. “Baby, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just...haven't been feeling myself for a couple of days. It's been a hard semester, that's all. The walk’s making it hit me a little.”

Derek stopped, turning to face you, eyes tracing over your face. No doubt he was taking in the deep, almost bruise-colored bags under your eyes that were only sort of hidden by your makeup. Or maybe it was the glossy sheen behind them. Once he had spotted one, the other signs started to jump at him: your fever-flushed cheeks and discolored skin, your dry, cracked lips, the slump of your shoulders, even your unusually loose and ill-fitted clothing.

You watched his jaw working as he struggled to contain whatever thought was on the tip of his tongue.

“Go ahead and say it,” you said with a sigh, throat burning with the exaggerated airflow.

“Say what?”

“Whatever you’re holding back.”

“Baby girl, you look awful,” his tone was flat and his face apologetic.

You tried to laugh, but it came out in more of a wet cough that made you wince, partially from the feeling, but mostly from the look he now wore.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I’m not. It’s just a little cold,” you protested, the argument weakened by another coughing fit, this one hitting harder and leaving you wheezing. The fit, or the way you swayed, dizzy and unsteady as the blood rushed back out of your head when it was over, seemed to be the last straw.

“That’s it,” he said, tone serious and sharp. “We’re going to my mom’s and she and I are gonna take care of you.”

“But--”

“Nope. You lost your protest privileges.” He was already steering you back in the opposite direction of where you were headed. “You can call Nino and tell him you won’t be in while I drive.”

“I don’t want to rob you of lunch,” you tried to fight anyway, voice weak and throat raw.

“I’ll eat somethin at home. I can’t believe you’re still tryin to...” he shook his head, muttering fondly about stubborn Irish pains in the ass.

After begrudgingly making the call to Nino, who sounded shocked but completely forgiving, you decided on one last ditch effort to escape admitting to and dealing with being sick.

‘Help I’m being held hostage!’ you texted Sean.

His response came only a moment later. ‘What??????!’

‘Your stupid bestfriend is making me admit I’m sick and keeping me from going to work.’

‘He’ A second text came through a moment later. ‘Good.’

‘WHAT? You’re my cousin, you’re supposed to be on my side. Rescue me. Before he sics his mother on me.’

There was a long pause, more than you thought Sean should need to respond. When the message finally came through, you couldn’t help glaring at the screen.

‘I’d rather fight an actual bear than Ma Sandoval.’

‘Ah. So you’re in on it. I see how it is. Your betrayal will not be forgotten.’

‘Feel better soon.’ He added a smile to the end, and you could practically see it as his signature smirk.

‘I hate you.’

You sighed, shoving your phone back in your pocket and slumped down in the seat. You closed your eyes, hoping that it would combat the movement of the car and the effect it was having on your headache. You were frustrated at Derek for making you admit something was wrong (even though you knew really that he was right to) and at the fact that it seemed like the minute you admitted it, the symptoms seemed to get immediately worse.

The next thing you knew, you were stirred from a light doze by a change in movement. Instead of the steady, rocking vibration of the car and the smooth, cool feeling of the glass under your cheek, you were pressed close against something warm and solid, bobbing in a more natural, if uneven, rhythm. Your mind was sluggish but after a moment, and a soft, familiar chuckle as you buried your face into him to escape the sun in your eyes, you realized that it was because Derek was carrying you, bridal-style across the lawn and into his house.

You suppressed an involuntary whine and the urge to cling to him as he settled you down in his bed. Heavy blankets that smelled like him were pulled up around your shoulders, the sudden warmth making you realize how cold you’d been.

“Not sick my ass,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Get some sleep baby girl.”

The door clicked quietly behind him and you let the comfortable darkness pull you back under.

Some unknown time later, there was a knock that pulled you out of strange, feverish dreams and you croaked something that you hoped sounded like come in, squinting against the light that poured through behind the person.

“Y/N, you should wake up for a little while,” Derek’s mother said, flicking on a bedside lamp. “I made you soup.”

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you Mrs. Sandoval.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you are dating my son, you at least call me Ma. Just like everyone else.”

“Sorry,” you looked down bashfully, the word tasting foreign in your mouth. “Ma.”

“Why are you not taking care of yourself?” she tutted as she set the bowl down and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are so busy trying to be able to be a fancy lawyer and change the world but you can’t do that if you drop dead. And of a little cold?”

“I--”

“And you made Derek worry.” She placed a wrist against your forehead to check your temperature. “He’s going to fret over you forever, now. It’s how he shows his love. I hurt my back a few years ago, and still he is ‘Mami you shouldn’t reach so high, Mami let me get that for you, Mami don’t carry so many heavy groceries.’ Imagine when you have children. They won’t be able to scrape a knee. If your doctor doesn’t put you on bed rest, he will.”

Her words made you choke on the food you had just sipped into your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit that left you short of breath.

“See, you wouldn’t be doing that if you said you were sick to begin with.”

“I just...thought if I took some cold medicine, it would go away on its own. I’ve been so busy. And I didn’t...want anyone to worry, or think anyone would care?” you admitted sheepishly, looking down at the soup in your lap and the blanket over your legs and trying not to think too hard about what you were telling her.

“Mija, look at me,” she said firmly but kindly. When you didn’t follow her instruction, she used a hand to tilt your head up. “You have family now. You don’t have to do everything alone. Now eat your soup.”

The sentiment, and the matter-of-fact way she delivered it, broke down a dam inside you, and suddenly you were crying, and she was hugging you, rubbing small circles on your back with one hand while the other cradled your head against her. You wanted to attribute your overwhelmed feelings to being sick, but in your heart you knew: it was a kind of acceptance and love that you had never expected, especially from someone who didn’t even have to like you.

After sitting like that for several long minutes, letting you sob and offering you comfort, she shifted back to nurse-mode.

“You need more fluids, not letting them all out through your eyes. Eat your soup, and I’ll go make you tea,” she said, nudging you back to rest against the headboard and standing.

You laughed wetly and tried again to thank her, only to have it waved away.

“How is she?” Derek asked, almost as soon as he walked through the door a few hours later.

His mother laughed, shaking her head wryly. “She will survive. Just needs to rest for a few days. It’s a cold.”

“That’s like asking the tide to take a few days off,” he chuckled, until his mother fixed him with a glare.

“Maybe if you told her the truth about how you felt, and she didn’t feel like she was on her own trying to be everything, she would.”

“Ma that’s not--”

“Derek Michael Sandoval, do not argue with me,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “You have been telling me for weeks now how much you love this girl, and it is obvious to a blind saint. Yet she is sick and doesn’t tell anyone because she thinks it would be a burden no one would want. Now what would give her that idea?”

Derek felt his stomach twist guiltily. It was true that he hadn’t told you he loved you, even though he was completely certain he did. But he thought it was for your benefit, to not scare you off by pushing too hard. He had never considered that it might be making things worse. He opened his mouth, looking for an answer to give his mother and found that he couldn’t get any words out. Instead, he just looked at her helplessly.

She rolled her eyes. “You are both so stupid.”

You were fast asleep when he slipped through the door, and as he got ready for bed as quietly as possible, he kept finding himself stopping to look down at you. You were burrowed deep in the blankets, wrapped in one of his hoodies in addition as the fever made you shiver. You looked so small and fragile and vulnerable there in his bed, and his chest ached with a need to protect you, a desire for taking care of you and loving to be his entire purpose in life for the rest of his life and it nearly knocked him on his ass.

As he slid under the covers beside you, you seemed to cuddle closer instinctively, and he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “And I know you can’t hear me right now, but baby girl, I promise, I’m gonna make sure you know, soon.”

#it wouldn't be me if it wasn't a little angsty #but mostly it's cute I think?#and more than a little cheesy #also guest starring Ma Sandoval because Moms make everything better #sick fic #Derek Sandoval x reader #Bad Samaritan fic #this ended up in a different direction than I intended but one I really like #I'm gonna go die now. goodnight #(coincidentally posted on Carlito's and thus Derek's birthday)#so that's fun

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bailey-reaper · 3 years

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Headcanons: The Timelines

Notes: So, I thought it might be a good idea to post my thoughts about the timelines that exist in my head, given that I've made reference to the 'perfect' one.

Goes without saying there are a lot of major spoilers below...

Content Warnings: spoilers; so many spoilers; non-canon shenanigans; did I mention spoilers?

The Canon Timeline

Basically what it says on the tin: all the events are as they happened in-game (in so far as I can remember them – I may well forget or overlook more nuanced details sometimes, and I apologise if that's the case!)

The majority of content on this blog operates under the canon timeline – the obvious exception to that is anything to do with alternate universes / worlds (e.g. the vampire stuff)

The 'Perfect' Timeline

This is the 'what if the bad stuff didn't happen' timeline, or at the very least 'what if Klint didn't become the Professor' being a central aspect. Clearly this would have far-reaching ramifications for a whole host of characters and situations, so I'll try to cover those here:

As such, Barok won't be the tortured man he became over the 10 years following Klint's death (because in this timeline, his brother didn't die). He might well be a bit more sober than his gentle university self, having seen a lot of the crime and corruption that is rife in London, but he's still a reasonably warm and personable young man compared to canon.

Similarly, this means that the Reaper of the Bailey does not exist –– Barok does not plummet into the depths of despair and his brother's ghost can no longer delight Londoners with the ghoulish gothic tragedy of a vengeful spirit of justice taking the law into its own hands...

However, the Professor does still exist –– in the form of Mael Stronghart. For years now he's been blackmailing and extorting those around him to do his bidding, the former Lord Chief Justice still ends up dying under suspicious circumstances (so that Stronghart can take his place) and Klint is continuing to chase the Professor's shadow, only this time it's not his own...

Klint insisted that Genshin return to Japan, out of concern for his friend becoming a target of the Professor; they were continuing to pursue him relentlessly and Klint held no doubt that eventually, were they to draw too close, there would be repercussions. The last thing he wanted was for his a close ally to fall foul of such a thing, so he asked him to return to Japan and promised that if he ever got a tangible lead he would inform him.

Genshin reluctantly agreed, on account of wanting to see his son again, but for the last ten years he has anxiously awaited some semblance of news from Klint –– yet the letters his friend sends never disclose anything about the Professor, they're just typically friendly missives checking up on him / his family.

Eventually, however, Genshin would grow tired of waiting for news and informs his good friend, Yujin, that he intends to return to Great Britain. Kazuma overhears this discussion and resolves that he will not be parted from his father again for such a long time, he tells his best friend Ryū that they're going to stowaway onto the ship with his father and head to Great Britain.

Ryū has his doubts about all this... but, his friend looks so desperate that he wants to help him. Susato ends up discovering their plan, so they have to rope her along for the ride too –– needless to say Genshin is unimpressed when he finds three stowaways in his room, but he can't turn his own son over to the ship's crew and accordingly agrees to keep their presence concealed...

Thus, the four arrive in Great Britain and Genshin is determined to bring an end to the Professor's 10-year reign of terror...

Kazuma proposes that he and Ryū learn more about British law while they're there, and suggests that he study up as a prosecutor while his friend learns the ways of a defence lawyer so that they can take these skills back to Japan and shake up their own system for the better.

Stronghart sees the utility in having Genshin's son so close at hand, and so agrees to the terms the young man boldly proposes when he and Ryū go to the Lord Chief Justice's office and ask him to appoint them as lawyers.

What happens next? I have no idea...

The 'Corrupted' Timeline

This is the 'what if things went from bad to worse' timeline in so far as 'what if Klint had won the duel against Genshin'?

Klint's a hollow man –– outwardly he presents close to his usual self, but inwardly he's being eaten up inside by his crimes. He feels trapped and has no idea how to claw his way back out of the mire.

For the last ten years he's been trying to maintain his composure so as not to worry his little brother, Barok, his darling wife and his precious daughter; but Stronghart's constant presence feels like a ticking time bomb. How long until the Lord Chief Justice decides Klint is no longer useful to him and brings everything crashing down around him? He cannot risk such a fate befalling his beloved family.

Thus, he conspires to be the one to strike first and take out Stronghart. His sense of 'justice' has become so warped by the things he's seen and done that he sees no way back from the precipice, so all he can do is keep pushing forward.

Will he kill Stronghart? Will Stronghart kill him? Or will the young man who has been told that his father's killer continues to walk free in Great Britain be the one to get his revenge?

(note: I'm still not 100% sure about the details of the corrupted timeline tbh, I just wonder what would happen if the 'Professor' was like the Ripper and no matter what the police try, they just cannot find him...)

#alt universe #misc.

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kittybellestark · 4 years

Text

Back To The Beginning

This one shot literally took so long to write but I’m glad it’s finally finished. I didn’t think I’d ever get it done i stg. Basically Peter starts to remember his parents.

TW: Panic Attack, Blood, speaking about experimentation/torture.

“Tony, I need your help!!”

It’s 11:00pm on a non-patrol night. Peter is supposed to be in his apartment, it’s not the weekend so he definitely isn’t supposed to be here at night. Tony felt the anxiety build inside of him. hearing Peter ask for help was nearly unheard of, and for him to make an appearance at the lab this late at night was only something he did when injured too badly. This was unusual.

Looking up at Peter, Tony see’s he looks relatively not injured. Though Peter’s look is a cause for concern. He’s wearing pajamas and his face is red. Peter’s still wearing slippers and it’s obvious that he doesn’t have a wallet on him, only his phone. Which means Peter walked to the tower from Queens -as his webshooters are not on his wrists- but he most likely ran, judging by his red face and the beads of sweat on his forehead.

“What’s wrong?”

Tony was quick to move, getting Peter to sit down and drink water. The boys eyes were wide and frightened.

“Okay you’re going to think I’m insane because I think I’m insane but I promise this is real and I need help. Something is suspicious about May. And me. And my parents. Something is wrong Tony. I don’t think I’m unsafe but there’s something wrong here.”

“Start from the beginning kiddo. Keep your breathing easy. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Peter nodded. He looked ready to cry. He was obviously exhausted and Tony was trying to keep his cool from Peter bringing up May and how he’s suspicious of her. Peter was his kid and Tony would do anything to keep him safe.

“Right, yeah. So remember our talk last week, the one where I sorta told you I perceive you in a father figure way and then you saying you kinda think of me as a son? Well I talked to May about it because I felt guilty. Like I had a dad and an uncle who raised me and it just feels selfish and I just needed extra reassurance okay. And May was upset. And she said that it wasn’t fair to my father especially considering he died recently.” Peter paused. “My dad died when I was 6, Ben died just over a year ago and I know she didn’t get them confused.”

Tony went to talk, to reassure Peter or to comfort him but Peter kept going.

“I thought she was just confused. But then I found some pictures of when my parents were alive. And May and Ben were never there. I can find pictures of places they said I was with them and only them, but then the pictures are with my parents. So I did had Ned hack into my grandparents old medical files. Richard and Mary were both only children. Ben is not related to Richard. There’s no adoption forms or anything. So technically May and Ben aren’t my aunt and uncle right?”

“Pete-“

“No Tony, listen. There’s more. May and Ben always pushed for me to work at Oscorp right? That’s where my parents worked so it makes sense. But May had pushed it more since the spider bite which doesn’t make sense, even pushing it even though you’re a Stark and obviously I’m going to work at SI when I’m older. It doesn’t make sense. But I was thinking it’s a legacy thing. But no.

“It doesn’t make sense that I don’t remember anything before my parents died. Doctor’s said it was the trauma of my parents dying. But I was six I couldn’t have really understood that. Unless something also happened to me, which brings me to my next big woah moment. MJ has been having me meditate recently because it’s good for my mental health and whatnot. And I remember being on an airplane with my parents. There’s no evidence that I was ever on an airplane, except before I was six years old. But there’s a ticket under my name for the same day my parents died. And if I go into the airport security cameras on that day I am there. You can see me boarding the plane. So how could I live through a plane crash and not my parents. That doesn’t make sense, especially seeing as my whole life I was told I was staying with May and Ben when my parents died.

“Tony, none of this adds up. And let’s just circle back to the spider bite. That should have killed me. It would have killed any other human. To have lived through the bite I would have had to had been altered or experimented on to work genetically with the spiders they were using. That’s the only way I wouldn’t have died. Which means Oscorp knows about me being Spider-Man, which makes sense because they’ve approached me multiple times since gaining my powers to intern there, even before I met you.

“Something is really wrong, Tony. And I need help.”

Tony agreed to help Peter. Of course he did. The duo researches Mary and Richard Parker and then they research May and Ben Parker. May and Ben never existed before they took custody of Peter. Everything Peter said was backed up. There was evidence for everything.

Peter’s life no longer made sense and Tony feared for his sons safety.

“I’m not comfortable with you going home, kid. None of this adds up.”

Peter leaned forward resting against the work table nodding along to what Tony said. He wasn’t very comfortable either. How could he go home knowing his whole life has been a lie.

“I’ll stay tonight, but I have to go back. We need more proof. Maybe we can get a DNA sample from May.”

Huffing in frustration, Tony pinches the bridge of his nose feeling at a loss.

“When you go back home I’m going to give you some stuff to set up around your room. It’ll activate every time May walks in there, record what she’s doing and saying. It’ll alert me if she does anything to you. I’ll also talk to my lawyers.”

The next day Tony unwillingly brought Peter back home. With a bag full of bugs and cameras, all directly linked to FRIDAY who will tell Tony as soon as anything remotely suspicious were to happen. Peter was well aware of exactly where to put each microphone and camera and that they would only be activated with May’s presence.

Leaving Peter alone with May, felt impossible. Tony’s chest felt tight with anxiety, worried that this would be a bad idea, that his kid would wind up hurt in the end. Peter being left to May when the facts didn’t add up. Everything was a little too off yet so well put together with their small family that it seemed like a gust of wind could bring it all toppling to the ground.

From there is took a few hours before May got back to her apartment, then a little while later before she started talking about Peter’s future with Oscorp. At the end of the week Peter finally told Tony that he had a DNA sample from May.

As Peter entered the lab, toothbrush in hand, Tony had everything set up, FRIDAY ready to go through every person who has ever given DNA ever to find out who May is.

“What if I was kidnapped as a child?”

“Then the two of us figure it out. We do whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Tony wraps his arms around Peter, letting the teen rest his head on Tony’s shoulder.

“Boss, I found a match, would you two like to hear?” FRIDAY finally said after an agonizing fifteen minutes.

Tony looked towards Peter, waiting for confirmation before answering. Peter stared at Tony, mouth open clearly hesitating about what to do. After a beat Peter finally nodded, and Tony gave FRIDAY the go-ahead.

“May Parker has a 100% DNA match to Mary Parker. I do apologize Peter, but it seems May is actually your mother.”

Everything went silent at that for Peter. His ears were ringing and the world went all fuzzy. He blinked back tears before taking a deep breath and nodding. Tony held both of Peter’s shoulders, keeping him grounded.

“Oh god, oh man, she lied to me. She lied a lot. She can’t be- she can’t. Tony, Tony, my whole life. She faked her death. And then got custody as me, and told me she’s my aunt. Oh no, that means Ben was probably- that I watched, Tony she said my Dad died recently, Tony I watched him get murdered. They lied to me. They lied.”

Tony pulled Peter into his arms, bringing the two of them to the ground. Peter ended up in Tony’s lap, head in the crook of his mentors shoulders. Tony started to rock the two of them, hoping to bring the sobbing boy some comfort.

~~~~~~

A week after finding out May was technically his biological mother, the nightmares set in for Peter. Well, more like repressed memories coming to him when he sleeps, but nightmares nonetheless. It was already a battle to get Tony to agree to let Peter go home, with promises that he would soon talk to May. Going to Tony about this now would only lead to Peter never going home.

Sleeping was hard though. Memories of being moved from facility to facility with Mary and Richard strapping him down and taking needles to his skin, injecting him with things that burned, that were so hot but also so cold. Watching Richard take a scalpel to his body, seeing Mary break his bones. Having his parents shock him until he tasted blood.

It wasn’t right. Peter knew it wasn’t right. He stops other parents from doing this to their kids. And now he’s here. He know’s he went through it, the abuse. But that was Mary and Richard. Not May and Ben. They may be the same, but the abuse, it hasn’t been since they started lying to him. Not since they pretended that Peter wasn’t their son. They’ve not hurt him like that since they faked their own death.

And yet Oscorp has been up his ass since Spider-Man. Doubled down since May found out. He’s been followed by people who may have put it together. Who may know his actual identity.

Peter know’s he should go to Tony. He know’s he should talk to May. Peter is acutely aware that he is an abused child. That his parents abused him. experimented on him. He shouldn’t have lived through the spider bite, not without previous experimentation. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for Mary and Richard or May and Ben, whoever they were. They saved his life with what they did.

But what if this was Ned’s life? Or MJ’s? OR Betty’s? Or even Flash? If this was literally anyone else’s life Peter wouldn’t stand for it. He wouldn’t let them think that everything was okay in their life. He would talk them out of it. He would support them and help them find other options. But this is his life. And now it’s different. And it shouldn’t be. Spider-Man stops this from happening to other children. Stops the abuse, helps get them into good homes. Yet Peter Parker isn’t doing anything for himself because as far as he’s aware it’s in the past.

Now Peter is sitting inside a restaurant with May. They’re supposed to be having dinner together. But he needs to know. He has questions and he wants the answers. His phone is on his lap recording, and he that Tony has Happy tailing him, which means he’s right outside if anything happens.

“So, uh, you know that MJ and I have been meditating together right? She says it’s good for people’s mental health and can help then deal with some personal stuff.” Peter starts saying once the food has arrived. May nods. “Well, I think it’s working. Which is great but I’m remembering some weird things from when Mary and Richard were alive.”

May raised her eyebrow, taking a think before she answers, the fork she was hold with chicken on the end twirling in the air.

“Are you sure about that Pete? I mean not to say I don’t believe you but the doctors have said it’s extremely unlikely that you’ll ever regain your memories from when your parents were alive. Are you sure you’re actually remember and not just creating these stories in your head about them again?”

“Wait what? Creating stories- again? May, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, honey. Please don’t tell me you repressed this. When you were you younger you created this whole story about how Mary and Richard would hurt you and take your blood and it was horrible. You worked yourself up into such a frenzy about it that Ben and I had to put you in a hospital to help you. You were in the hospital for months. Do you not remember that?” Peter shook his head. “Honey, if what you remember of your parents is them experimenting on you or whatever convoluted thing you made up then we need to get you some more help.”

Peter was confused. He didn’t remember May and Ben shipping him away. There’s no memory of going to a hospital or saying that his parents hurt him. Peter was sure that never happened. It couldn’t have. And for May to know what Peter was going to his what his memories were. That’s wrong. She knows. She knows.

“I ran a DNA test. I know you’re actually Mary.”

May or Mary whoever she is dropped her fork, her face showing her surprise.

“Peter, baby, I don’t know where you got that idea from but I’m not Mary, I’m not your mother. I don’t know how you made up this story now but you’re wrong. Get up Peter. We’re going to go get you some help.”

Heartbreaking, Peter felt his family shatter. For the first time in Peter’s life he looked at May and saw a stranger. To tell him he’s making this all up, that he needs help. She’s never done this before. May- Mary- May, she’d never make him feel like he was a liar. Peter had always felt validated by her. May didn’t even do this when Peter went to her about Skip.

May got up from the table grabbing Peter by his arm and trying to pull him up with her. Peter continued to stay seated, refusing to go with her. Wanted to finish this conversation before this family ended.

“Sit the fuck down, Mary. I’m not done yet.” Peter heard himself spit out, voice feeling detached.

Mary sat down across from her son, a scowl set on her face. Food forgotten, her foot tapping.

“I was on that plane too. I remember being there. There was never a May and Ben Parker before then. Don’t play dumb with me either, Mom, I go to the best school in New York that works in conjunction with the best colleges in the country. I have an internship with a certified genius and have helped develop products at SI, and regularly work with the top three smartest people in the world, and they don’t dumb things down so I can understand. I can keep up with them and I make them see things they didn’t before. I’ve corrected Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Don’t tell me I’m crazy.”

The two stayed silent staring at each other. The server came around to check in and they only nodded. After ten minutes Mary finally broke the silence.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why did you fake your death, create identities that are literally related to me, but not fake my death? You told me you were dead for years. Why?”

“It was the only way to protect you without ruining your life. I did what I had to do.” Mary’s voice was cold in a way that Peter hasn’t heard since he was young, and strapped to a table.

“How could you ever protect me when you were to the one to hurt me. You and Richard. You strapped me to a table, poked me with needles, injected me with experimental drugs, broke my bones and cut me open and shocked me when I didn’t do what you wanted me too. I was a child and you tortured me.”

“You think I wanted to? You’re my baby. I didn’t want to do those things, but I had too.”

“Why?”

“Peter, we’re done, we’re going.”

“Not until you answer me.”

“We’re leaving.”

“Answer me, Mary.”

“Oscorp. Norman Osborn. That’s why.”

Peter nodded. It was what he was expecting. Of course he was. He just wanted it to be different. He wanted Mary to say anything else. But it was her job. She got paid to do those things to him. Mary could have said no, could have quit her job. Richard too. They could have done something. Anything.

It was a choice. They chose their jobs over him. They valued Peter as a lab rat, and their job as their child. Peter wasn’t important. Not to Mary, not to Richard. Not in the way he should have been.

“Alright.” Peter said. “I can’t go home with you. I can’t trust you anymore. I’m sorry Mary, but this just isn’t working with us anymore. Someone will be in contact.”

They made eye contact again. And Peter finally stood up. He tapped a button on the watch he was given from Tony, only tapped it once, to let Happy know he needs a ride, to let Tony know he needs him. His phone went into his pocket.

Just as his back turned to Mary, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was the sound of gun being cocked behind him. The people in the restaurant as gasped and screamed, chairs moving and people trying to shuffle away. Peter turned back around seeing May holding a gun, aiming it right at him.

“You’re not going to Tony. Tony motherfucking Stark doesn’t get to lay claim to you. You are mine Peter. You are my child, you are my responsibility, you are mine and you are coming home with me. Now put your hands up baby, I can’t have you calling him. We need to go. You need help. We have to go see the doctor.”

She was shaking, tears running down her face. All Peter could see was his aunt. He could only see May. He couldn’t see Mary and that made it hurt more. He raised his hands, putting them behind his head. He found the his watch easily, clicking the buttons in rapid succession, as many times necessary to get help as soon as possible.

“May, May, please. You can’t- please. You hurt me. Over and over again. It was your choice. Please don’t hurt me anymore. Put the gun down, please. You know I won’t go willingly. I won’t, I will let you shoot me. Kill me, May, do to me what was done to Ben-Richard. Make sure no one can ever have me if you can’t. It’s the only way you can keep me safe right? By making sure I’m dead?” Peter sobbed, moving slowly onto his knees, trying to not be a threat to Mary. “You are scaring me. I used to feel safe with you May. You made me feel safe. But Mary, I don’t feel safe with you. I’d rather be dead then go to whatever place you want me too. You either need to kill me, or let me go to Tony. Either way he’ll make sure you go to jail. But I’ll try and get him to lighten up the sentence if you let me walk out of here tonight.”

Peter was crying. And near incoherent, he wanted things to be normal. He wanted his Aunt May and he wanted to be at home watching a bad hallmark movie throwing popcorn at the tv. He wanted them to order cheap takeout food when May inevitably burnt dinner.

He could see the people trapped in the restaurant in them taking videos of them. He knew this was probably live on Facebook or Instagram or Tiktok or wherever they post live videos now. Tony was without a doubt watching when FRIDAY picked up his face online. Everyone at school would probably see this, him begging Mary to kill him instead of kidnapping him.

Peter could hear the sound of repulsors, both of the suit and of the quinjet. He knew Mary only had limited time before Tony got here, and only a little bit more time before whatever available Avengers show up. Happy was probably busy securing the perimeter for the police. Or maybe he was working to get some of the hostages out.

“I don’t want to kill you Pete. I don’t want to kill you, it’s the last thing I want to do. So you need to come with me. You cannot go to Tony Stark. He can’t solve your problems. Let’s go. We can be together, forever. We can finally be the family I always wanted us to be. The family you always wanted to have. Mother and Son. We wouldn’t be Aunt and Nephew now that you know.”

Mary was shaking, her face red, finger on the trigger, safety turned off. She was ready to shoot her son, her child, her baby. She was fighting a losing battle. She said all the wrong things and she’s acting the wrong way.

Iron Man touched down outside.

“You have a minute Mary, let me leave, Tony is outside. It’ll be better if you let me go.” It was a final plea, he knew it probably wouldn’t do anything but it was worth the shot.

There was a beat of silence.

“If I can’t have you then no one can.” Her voice was cold.

A repulsor charged. Mary was out of time. They both knew it.

A shot rung out.

The window shattered.

Mary flew to the side.

Peter fell backwards.

Tony charged in.

Mary lost her grip on the gun, it skidded across the restaurant floor. Far out of her reach. She pushed herself away, trying to escape Iron Man. The attempt was in vain. Tony stood over her, face plate on the suit flicked up.

“You’re done Mary. You don’t get to hurt him anymore.”

The Avengers swarmed in detaining Mary, working on getting the hostages out, having them checked by medical.

“She shot me.” Peter cried out, trying to suck in air.

Tony turned to Peter, seeing the boy lying down. Pool of blood around him. A gun shot wound to the stomach. Peter was smiling teeth stained red. Tony broke out of his suit, skidding to his knees beside him. Tony put pressure on the wound trying to smile at Peter, to try and comfort his kid.

“Peter, kid, I’m right here. I’m right here bambino, it’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you anymore. You’re gonna move in with me, I’ve already got all the paperwork sort out. I promise you kid, you’ve got a home with me. I love you kid, it’s okay, we’ll be okay eventually.”

Peter nodded, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t hurt anymore, nothing hurt.

“I’m sorry Tony. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I shouldn’t’ve confronted her. She tried to kill me.” He coughed up blood. “I thought she’d tell me it was a lie. Mary never loved me.”

“It’ll be okay bambi, I’ve got you now.”

~~~~~

Peter woke up in the medbay. The lights were dimmed, Tony was asleep with his head on the Peter bed, Tony’s hand resting on Peter’s. The window’s were tinted so he couldn’t see out, and the door was closed most of the way closed. Peter grabbed a cup of water sitting on the nightstand, taking a sip and putting it back down.

“Tony?” Peter whispered, waking the man up.

“Hey Pete,” Tony smiled once he woke up, voice still sleepy, eyes willed with worry. “You comfortable? Can I get you anything? Whatever you need kid, I’ll get it for you.”

“She tried to kill me, Tony. She’d rather me dead, then alive with you. She’s the reason I’m like this. She made me a freak. Because of her I’m some mutant. She never loved me.”

“Oh Peter.” Tony sighed as Peter started sobbing.

Tony got up, crawling into the bed with Peter careful not to irritate the wound. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into his chest. Peter sobbed harder, clinging to Tony.

“You’re no freak Peter. You’re not just some mutant either. You are my kid though, my son, even if not biologically. You are so important to me Peter. I’m so sorry I couldn’t take care of you. I’m so sorry that Mary lied to you you’re whole life, but you’re my kid okay? You are Peter Parker or whoever you want to be. I’m proud of you. You deserved to be loved, bambino.”

“I don’t even want to be a Parker anymore. I don’t want to be related to my parents anymore.”

Tony wiped the tears off his son’s face. They made eye contact, Peter’s red glassy eyes and Tony’s watery eyes.

“Then be a Stark. Or a Carbonell. Or a Potts. Or whatever other last name there is that isn’t mine or Peppers. Right. Be a Hogan or a Rhodes. You can have whatever last name you could possibly want. Rogers. Barton. Romanoff. Banner. Odinson. Maximoff. Barnes. Wilson. You don’t have to be a Parker if you don’t want to be. But personally I like the sound of you being Peter Stark, though Peter Potts has a nice ring to it too. We could hyphenate too.”

Peter laughed. “Peter Stark-Potts-Rogers-Barton-Romanoff-Banner-Odinson-Maximoff-Barnes-Wilson? Is that what you want my name to be.”

“No you silly goose. Maybe Peter Stark-Potts. Or Peter Potts-Stark. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I won’t judge. Basically I wanted to say that Pepper and I want to keep custody of you. We currently have temporary custody, because it’s up to you. We didn’t want you left out. And eventually we’d like to adopt you too.” Tony paused for a beat. “But, I feel like we’re having this conversation entirely too soon and I should let you grieve first. Mary’s not dead, that was the wrong word. She’s alive. But I figured you’d be grieving the family you lost. So we can talk about this down the line. When you’re comfortable. But Pep and I will need to know the custody thing soon at least. Gotta keep CPS off our asses at some point.”

“Tony?”

Tony hummed in response.

“Thank you.”

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skellebonez · 3 years

Text

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 4

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!

Chapter 2 Link!

Chapter 3 Link!

Summary: No one is happy with Wukong’s suggestions, not even Wukong himself. But they only have so many options and depending on what they learn from certain demons they have fewer options going forward.

Warnings: Discussion of past canon violence in Journey To The West

Chapter 4: Oh I can back them up and than some, show me what you got

"Have you lost your fucking MIND!?” Pigsy snapped, getting up and grabbing the tails of Wukong’s cape to drag him down to eye height. “DBK? The Demon Bull King? You want us to team up with HIM!? You buried him under a mountain for centuries, what makes you think he’d agree to that!?”

“Red Son.”

Pigsy froze for a moment, grimacing as he began taking the time to think this response over. The Demon Bull family had a... difficult relationship with Red Son, one that was undeniably unhealthy (and now that he had seen how much Red had mellowed out and blossomed since defecting to their side it was one the pig was glad he was out of). But the two demons were clearly protective of him in their own twistedly weird way.

He remembered how much they fought during their attempts to gain Princess Iron Fan's fan, fueled by anger at Wukong defeating their son and sending him off as Guanyin's disciple. MK had told him how PIF herself had defended Red from DBK when he was possessed by the White Bone Spirit, Red explaining that they had never stood for anyone physically hurting him outside of a proper battle when the topic eventually came up again, so there was some level of... care there somewhere. Bizarre and messed up care. Even if he didn't think it was anywhere near enough to make up for whatever had happened to undo Guanyin's teachings, it was something...

Something that they could use to their advantage to get them on their side temporarily.

"I hate it to admit it," Pigsy conceded with a gruff sigh as he let go of the monkey's cape tassels. "But you might be right. If they know he's missing they'll come runnin to look for him, and I’d rather them learn from us and work with us than fight against them if they find out themselves.”

He looked back at his phone, setting up the map on his phone to the nearest docks. “I don't like it, and if we DO ask for their help there ain't no way we're letting them get close to being alone with Red! I really don’t like that we even have to consider it, but if that’s what it takes I’ll do it.”

To say everyone looked surprised by his quick concession was an understatement, even Wukong himself raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. But no one knew what to really say to argue against it.

“So...” Wukong finally said as he stood with a smirk, dried and looking as regal as he ever did. “What’s the official plan, brother?”

“Sandy, head straight for the docks,” Pigsy said with a smirk back, pointing to each of them in turn. “You’re gonna talk to the dock masters and get all the info you can out of them. Tang, you and I are going together and I want you to call all the food stalls and shops in the area to see if they’re still open and if anyone is still workin who remembers seeing them. If anyone finds something we call the other and keep them updated.”

He turned to Wukong, eyes blazing in that same determination he had during their old journey. “First off, get an umbrella from my lost and found so you don’t drench yourself again. Then I want you to head to the weather station. Human disguise, no disguise, I don’t care how much you gotta show off just get them to stop the storm. You’re the only one of us with a lawyer on speed-dial, get them to bail you out if you gotta.”

Had it been 500 years ago Wukong probably would have teased the pig demon for taking charge like this. But now, all Pigsy could see in his face was the same determination he felt and some odd aura of pride coming from him. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes.”

----------

The plan was working surprisingly well, all things considered. Over the course of the last hour Sandy had managed to find his boat (it had indeed been confiscated for illegally parking and the dock-master was more than willing to let it slide with a warning) so they knew where they were supposed to go. Wukong himself had made quick work of the weather station, apparently just showing up as The Monkey King was enough to get the station head to approve a change of weather for the rest of the day (once the poor guy on duty managed to get him to look at the screen to prove he was really there). At the very least Wukong’s lawyer would have a much easier week.

Because of this, Wukong (now in human disguise again) and Sandy were able to meet back up with Pigsy and Tang, the later after taking the most obvious route to get to the food stalls the trio was last seen at. If he had found any evidence of them taking that route it would have made everything so much easier, but he hadn’t even found a scrap of cloth. But progress was progress.

“And you’re sure you never saw them?”

“Sorry, man, I’ve been here all day and I’d remember seein the guy who brings my lunch twice a week and saves the city twice as much,” the cashier said with an apologetic shrug. “Wish I could help ya more... when ya see the guy, tell him I’ll hold his game for him, it’s the least I could do.”

“I will, and you’ve helped us a lot more than you think,” Tang said, turning to leave the shop. “Thank you for your time!” He rushed out, grouping back up with the other three adults (and one cat).

“OK, apparently MK was supposed to pick up another game from this used game store before heading to training and they never came to pick it up!” He announced, accepting the offered coffee from Sandy and taking a gulp of it and wincing at the bitterness. But he needed the fuel. “Oh, that is disgusting... But back to the search, we know a rough area where they had to disappear from now!”

“Hmn...” Wukong wasn’t looking at Tang, instead watching the high space between two buildings to the side of them. “And I bet a certain someone we talked about earlier knows about that area too...”

The rest of the group looked down the alley and finally put two and two together about where exactly they were and realized it lead into the part of the shopping district where Pigsy always went to get fresh ingredients. The exact same part where a certain eight legged demon happened to make her home underground. When they followed Wukong’s gaze upward they could see the tiny spiderweb that had caught his attention.

“Oh God damn it,” Tang groaned.

----------

No one was happy about this, least of all Pigsy and Tang. But small bits of luck, they weren’t entering the lair of the Spider Queen by falling down a scary nightmare hole this time. Instead they drove to that nearest dock for Sandy to take the confiscated boat so the three non-flying men could enter from the escape route they had made the last time they had been down there (with some assistance getting through the still broken sewer drain). Once they were under the still wide open hole Wukong had flown them all up on his cloud one by one.

And it was still as musty and spider webby as it had been before. They knew it was pointless to try sneaking around, instead just keeping their guard up as they made their way toward the main lair.

“Maybe she’s out,” Sandy offered when they saw no sign of her, scratching his head.

“Or maybe she’s been watching you the whole time~.” The three non-monkey team members jumped at the voice of the Spider Queen, moving closer to Sun Wukong as she slowly descended from the ceiling. “Monkey King! To what do I own the prestigious displeasure of seeing you again?” Her voice held the same playful tone as before, but there was an edge of tenseness and anger under it. “I certainly hope you haven’t harmed any more of my family on your way in, ape.”

From their vantage point his teammates could see Wukong’s fur bristle in annoyance at the slight. “I think you of all people would know not to call me that.”

“Ah, yes, I remember our last meeting,” The Spider Queen bit back as she made herself comfortable on the other side of the room, as comfortable as she could get in a stance clearly ready to run off at any moment. “The one where you squashed all of my sisters alive and I barely managed to escape. My apologies. It’s good to know you haven’t forgotten about me entirely.”

“If you play nice I can promise this meeting will have much fewer spider guts decorating your walls,” Wukong hissed out, crossing his arms as he took a step forward. “It will be much shorter too. We just want some information.”

The Spider Queen hissed right back, crawling back a foot up the wall. “I’m not stupid enough to want to fight you again, not now. Go on, ask so we can get this little reunion over and done with.”

Tang watched as the spiders that surrounded them all seemed to move back in tandem with their queen, following suit for their own safety most likely. She was much more subdued this time around, and there was no playful tone in her voice anymore. Something told him the stories he pictured, where Monkey King squashed the six other spider sisters in tiny spider forms, were much less accurate than he originally imagined. He shuddered at the thought.

“Did you have any spiders out near the shopping district before the storm today?”

Raising an eyebrow, the Spider Queen waved her hand and called over a small handful of her normal sized spider minions. She held them up to her ear, listening to them without taking her gaze off the Monkey King. “Ah I see... so the little Monkie Kid and his friends are missing.” She allowed herself a smirk for half a second before frowning again. “Didn’t know going missing was contagious.”

“What does that mean?” Tang asked without thinking, flinching back when her gaze fell on him for a moment.

“That little trio isn’t the first group my spiders have overheard people looking for,” The Spider Queen elaborated, gently putting the spiders on her nearest web. “And unfortunately for me, that means it’s probably good you came here. Fantastic.” She crawled down off the wall, moving sideways and over to little cauldron pot thing she had planned on stewing Pigsy and Tang in, picking up... a business card? “Catch.”

She tossed the card to Wukong who caught it effortlessly, looking a the slightly haphazardly drawn but surprisingly professionally printed card with surprise. “’Jin and Yin, Gold and Silver Demon Tech Services. For whatever anti-Monkie Kid and non-anti-Monkie Kid tech you may need...’? Those two are still around?”

“And they owe me a replacement for something of theirs your Kid broke the last time he was here, probably would have gotten it sooner if I had noticed faster,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “They were supposed to meet me here a week ago and they’ve vanished to who knows where. No one who has any orders from them can find them. It’s like they were sucked into one of their calabashes.”

“Their WHAT?” Wukong snapped, his voice echoing in the cave and making his companions flinch at the volume.

“Did... did that Kid not tell you?” The Spider Queen asked in genuine surprise. “Those two wouldn’t shut up about it after it happened, they’ve been making calabashes with some kind of VR tech and somehow managed to catch the Monkie Kid on their own! It didn’t work for long, obviously, but the fact they had him went to their heads for like a month. Pretty obnoxious, actually.”

There was a growl heard from the back of Wukong’s throat. “Well... this isn’t exactly what I expected to hear from you.”

The Spider Queen hummed, looking thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I have no love lost for your kids or those two and quite frankly I don’t care what happens to them.” She smirked a bit at Pigsy’s snapped “HEY!” before frowning again. “But them going missing together? That just feels like an even worse storm is coming down and I don’t like the feeling of how that bodes for me. Maybe nothing will come of it. Maybe it’ll help me. But I don’t want to take that chance.”

Suddenly she jumped backward, situating herself on a large web far out of their reach high in her cave. “Your kids vanished after they got to the food market. They went into a tea shop and never came out. That’s all my babies saw. Now take your leave.”

----------

“Yin, this is a terrible idea!”

“Well we can’t exactly get out of ‘ere while she’s gone, now can we?” Yin snapped, bandaging a small cut on his elder brother’s head from when he hit the floor. “Do you have a better idea?”

The Gold Horned Demon sighed, shaking his head once the bandage was on. “No... no I don’t. I should though, I’m the one that got us into this bloody mess.”

“And now you can be the one to get us out of it. Hopefully.” Yin bit his lip, listening carefully as he picked something up. “Right, she’ll think you’re still in here restin’ after she hit you with too much of that smoke stuff. I’ll cover you as long as I can. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Is your name Jin?”

“... Yes.”

#I think this is the longest chapter so far?#i spent most of my day rewriting the end and editing this #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #sfaut #monkey king #sun wukong #tang #sandy #pigsy #mo (the cat)#spider queen #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #jin and yin

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halfrest · 3 years

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* camila mendes, cis woman + she/her | you know juliana “jules” paes, right? they’re twenty-four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, almost one year? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to god must be doing cocaine by charlotte lawrence like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole playlist curated specifically for making boxed mac and cheese at 3 am, the ‘are you still watching?’ screen on your ex’s netflix that you continue to use, and equating the one-time purchase of a zucchini to getting your life together thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is june 9th, so they’re a gemini, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

pinterest.

not the eldest child, but the eldest daughter, juliana (who purely goes by jules) was born third followed by five younger siblings for a total of eight. it was a packed house, especially since both parents had their siblings nearby (they all lived in one borough of new york city or another). not a bad arrangement in terms of the company kept. her best friends were her cousins. her family was close enough. the only thing was that jules was everybody’s second mother. when it came to the final three kids, she raised them as much as her parents did. oldest brother was the obvious favorite, got married young (now nieces and nephews piled in), went off to become a doctor and second son went off the rails a bit, although he was doted over and eventually ended up working with dad at a very exciting insurance company. jules doesn’t remember much of her childhood, but she remembers changing diapers, making lunches, going to soccer games and driving a car full of children as soon as she got her license. that didn’t mean jules was exempt from other responsibility because her parents wanted to see her succeed too and since they had a doctor in the family, why not a lawyer or engineer. girl was expected to juggle everything with ease but ofc that’s impossible unless you have superpowers and i’m afraid to report that juliana did not.

anxiety tw / anxiety initially kept her on track, needing to get assignments done before due dates, having her schedule perfectly coordinated and it worked throughout high school, somewhat throughout college, although panic attacks became more prevalent and then into her first year at law school, it just didn’t work for her anymore. total breakdown. she chose herself over expectations she couldn’t meet, although that didn’t mean she was going to show up back home as a failure. jules withdrew from school and went out to irving where her best friend from the city (shoutout willa) had ended up at and lied to her family all about it. / end tw

it’s hard to know where to go in life when you swerve off the road in front of you and realize that you had been living for other people. basically jules doesn’t rly know what the fuck it means to live for yourself. the only thing she’s settled is that she will continue to lie to her family and say that she’s still at law school even though she hasn’t been in months. she tries not to think about that too much tho bc that would just lead to another spiral. has no direction, no plan, no money atm but in the same vein of things, jules has never been so relieved in her life. she’s managing. there are days when she just stays in her room (terrible roommate btw, never pays rents on time, has elaborate excuses, who will tolerate her?) in her dark just not wanting to do anything (depression<3) but don’t worry by friday night she’s shaking her ass at scuba to some nelly song. duality of (wo)man.

other facts and things include being an avid fan of watching bad movies and leaving letterboxd reviews, giving apologies in the form of any item off the mcdonalds value menu, buying a ridiculous piece of clothing or whatever bc it’s what makes her happy at the moment (maybe a cow patterned bikini is what she truly needs to reach inner peace — a small price for some serotonin), alternating between periods of great productivity and well nothingness (meaning tons of unfinished projects and plans), ability to sleep anywhere, giving unsolicited opinions, coming up with the Perfect Plan which ends up not being perfect, talking too much and last but not least.......having fun.<3

holds ur hand if u got to the end of this. i might come up w some wc but we know who i am as a person so let’s cut thru the bs. if u would like a plot w jules 1st of all i love u 2nd of all jst message me and i’ll come up w a silly little plot for us. it’ll be beautiful n sexy. that also applies to my other characters. suddenly disappears in a cloud of smoke.

#irvingintro #anxiety tw #another silly little intro from a silly little girl #also my brain's flatlining so bad 2day so i'm sorry for being not the best member atm

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whoviancumberbunny · 3 years

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Mutant & Proud: AU Cherik/X-Men Fan Fic - Chapter One

Tag: @whatcouldgowrong-ohthat

Opening scene 8 Year old Twins, Lucy and Klaus Xavier are in their father's office "Klaus i don't get why you asked me to be lookout Dad is still sick and he hurt his leg last week when he fell down the steps"

"Shut Up Lu. Uncle Erik shows up at random intervals to see if Dad is still alive." it was still unclear if they were aware that that Charles, their father was always hung over he had had been drinking for a little over a year and their had left around 10 months ago. It had been few months since anyone had delivered food to the house so Klaus was trying to open the safe "Got it." as they stood up

"Children. Don't tell me your father scared off the staff now too."

"Uncle Erik!" Lucy ran and hugged him Erik Lensherr was their godfather. "Where is your father?"

"He's sleeping on the couch in the study." Lucy said

"Wait here after i speak with him. i will take you to get something to eat."

In the study a few minutes later, Erik was trying to control his anger because he wasn't sure if the twins knew about mutants yet. "Your Wife left ten months ago you drunk jackass." he still wondered why that woman had left two children alone in the house with a Self pitying &Self destructive alcoholic. "There is still no telling if they will have mutant powers when they are older. but it obvious that Lucero is an empath, and all your putting into the air is negative energy!" he wanted to punch his best friend, things had gotten worse since the last time he was here. "I have spoken to My lawyer and document you had me sign when you made me their god-father says if i judge them as being in danger of any kind. I can become their legal guardian."

"They're my kids Erik!"

"You are not acting like a father. When i got here i found Klaus Opening your safe so they could get money to get food!" the ceiling fan started to shake "I should leave before something regrettable happens."

Two Months later at his house in Bavaria "Lucy, Where is your brother?"

"Lurking somewhere. if we weren’t eight years old. I would assume it is teen angst." she finished eating lunch "Are we taking the tour of the fairy tale castle today. You promised we would after Klaus and I settled in."

Erik sighed "Everyone experiences angst, Lucy. Go change out of your pajamas and I will check the schedule for the tours." while he was looking up the schedules her emailed Hank, to thank him again for watching over Charles. "The next tour is at 2pm. The only way to get there on time is take to take a helicopter."

"I am afraid of heights." she said

Suddenly a small pebble bounces off of Erik's "Nicklaus, I am not leaving you here alone last time i did that i had to replace the glass in my bookshelves."

"But touring Castles is so girly."

Erik "Well grin and bear it i am not leaving you alone in the house. Lucy didn't complain when we went to weaponry exhibit. that you wanted to see."

"that doesn’t count she took the tour of the garden outside the historical society while i was looking at the cool stuff."

"NIcklaus just put your jacket i am not leaving you alone in the house again." he was trying to not yell. But Sometimes the way Klaus acted reminded him of Charles. The last time he gotten into a debate with Charles before Charles started drinking he had looked

Charles "I...don't like you, Erik."

"That Just means you realize i have a point."

He was shaken out of his thoughts "Sorry i was thinking."

"Your face went blank." you almost missed the turn to get to the castle." Lucy said, whishpers to him "It would make him more annoying if you mentioned that you think he's like our father."

He glanced at he as he paused to make the turn, was it possible that the first signs of her X-Gene were appearing. it would be intriguing if she had some form of telepathy like Charles. Only time would tell.

later inside the palace "Wow! It is so big. In the books the dimensions make it hard for me to imagine the actual size of the room. I wish we could sit on the thrown."

"Cool they have an armery, It doesn’t say if it part of the tour."

a fortnight night later..... Charles barges into the house because Erik's assistant forgot the lock the dooor before he left "Where are my children?"

"at School. Because i don't force them into situations where people don;t talk to them because they are your children. You promised when they were born you would never treat them the way your father treated you. Klaus is convinced everyone likes Lucy more than him." he looked at him "You are still not 100 Percent sober who brought you here."

Logan "Sorry Magneto. he jumped out of the car before i completely came to stop."

"It is okay, just call me Erik." he easily dodges Charles as the still unsteady man attempts to punch him in the face. "You are pathetic Human being. You weren’t paying attention to them until after i took them out of hte negative energy you were creating." he forces him to suit down "I stopped to visit Mora McTaggert after i picked them up. You have thirteen year old son who think you abandoned him and favors them over him if i hadn’t left hte same day he probably would have kidnapped Lucy because he was lurking in the forest near Moira's house." he sighed "she helps all those mutants i can see a sadness in her eyes because she can’t help her own son."

"You are lying!"

"Call Moira. Gottverdammt, if you don't believe me charles." hands him letter Moira asked him to give to charles "Leave and don’t return until you are more steady on your feet you sad excuse for human. there are times when i respect but at present i canlt stand looking at you. you are creating the mess you're drowning in and you don't even notice."

"Come on Chuck. Lenscherr has a point though. You need to clean up your life before you can even thing of turning the mansion into a school." as logan took charles back to the car. neither one of them noticed the smirk on Erik's face he knew if he tricked Charles into thinking The Xavier Academy for The gifted was his Idea that it would give him something to focus on. Then they could do something about their dream of helping Mutants maybe by the time school existed they would know if Lucy and Klaus were mutants too.

at the end of the school term there was talent showcase and Lucy had given Erik a ticket and not told him why. When the Music from Dance of the Swans Began. it Soon because Clear, Lucy had managed to get the role of Odette in the Dance of the Swans From Swan Lake. She somehow the most graceful one there and when everyone was taking their bows one of the other dancers lost her balance Lucy grabbed her before she could fall off the stage. Elisabeta "Danke, Lucy." "You are welcome Ellie."

A little While later at Erik's House "Here you Go Lucy. Bacon and Scrambled eggs. You must have worked really hard for lead role in the performance."

"Danke, and yes i did. they said no one has ever learned the routine as fast as i did."

"You two have a birthday comings up what would you like as birthday present."

"Pony!"

"Archery Set!"

"No i donlt trust you with arrows i will get you an archery set when you are older."

"I want to take gymnastics but i am afraid i will get teased for it because the class is mostly girls."

"Klaus, there are four boys in the ballet Class. that is proof that you should at least try gymnastics." Lucy said "Klaus wants an Easel and paints he's just afraid to admit he likes art too."

To Be Continued... ‎Wednesday, ‎March ‎3, ‎2021 1:50:29 AM

#x-men au #cherik au #fan fic #3/2/21 #erik lensherr #charles xavier #ocs

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scarpool-gmk · 3 years

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Title: Godly Marine: Killed Author: Scarpool Fandom(s): NCIS, Percy Jackson & the Olympians Pairing(s): Gen Rating: PG/K+ Summary: Chapter 7 (9/13) — Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale, Marine Corps Mechanic and Son of Athena, was murdered. Annabeth Chase is determined to find out who did it and why. She, along with Percy Jackson, Grover Underwood, and Clarisse La Rue, infiltrate NCIS where they team up with NCIS Agents Leroy Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Timothy McGee, and Ziva David. Complete Genre: Fanfiction, Mystery, Drama, Humour, General, Action Warnings: N/A

Gibbs's command to 'bring them all' was still ringing in Tony's head as he finished dropping off the Kahale kids in the conference room. Their father was waiting for questioning.

The elevator dinged, signaling Ziva's and Gibbs's arrival. They lead Patricia Kahale in, Ziva taking point and escorting her to interrogation.

Tony walked next to Gibbs to report. "One in interrogation, the rest in the conference room."

Gibbs nodded and glanced around the bullpen. "Where are they?"

The long Island Agents. "Uh, don't know, Boss. They weren't here when we came back."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow but stayed silent.

"So, how do you want to do this, Boss?"

"Let's start with the father."

Tony snatched the case file as they passed his desk. Then, not because he had an urge to share his current opinion, Tony said, "And the evil step-mother?"

"Let her stew."

"Right, Boss. How about the kids?"

"Have McGee bring them down. He's in charge of any incoming calls."

"Right." Tony started for the center stairs.

"Hey!" Gibbs called out. "You're with me. Write to him or something."

Tony frowned as he followed Gibbs. Although interrogation was way more fun than dealing with McProbie and the kids, Tony was uncomfortable that Gibbs wanted him to send a postcard through the building.

"Write to him?"

"Through your phone," Gibbs said.

"Oh! Er, you mean send a text."

Gibbs stopped in his tracks. Tony cringed. "I'm writing to him, Boss."

Gibbs continued on, leading them to the interrogation wing and pushed open a door even though he was never told in which room the man was being held in. Tony shuddered. The Gind. What power it beholds.

"Hey, what's going on?" Johnathan Kahale questioned as they entered. "You said this was about my son? What's going on with the investigation?"

"Mr. Kahale," Tony said, "This is Special Agent Gibbs."

"Hi," Kahale said and, after a brief hesitation, held his hand out. Gibbs shook in greeting.

"So, you are also on Michael's case? I had only met two other agents before being picked up by Agent David and Agent DiNozzo here. I didn't realize how big your teams are."

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, "I'm getting that a lot recently."

"Oh," Kahale said, unsurely. Tony understood. He would have said the same thing to that.

"So, how long is this going to take? With the kids here, I should really speak to my wife."

"Your wife is also here, Mr. Kahale," Tony said.

"Really? Can I please see her?"

"No," Gibbs said.

"What? Why not?"

"You are both suspects," Gibbs said.

"Excuse me?! I don't know how you came to that conclusion, Agent Gibbs, but I assure you that neither of us had anything to do with my son's death."

"Then I'm sure you can account for your whereabouts during that time," Tony said.

"I was home."

"Asleep?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes."

"Your wife?"

"Right beside me."

"Did you know about Michael's presence in the area?" Tony asked.

"It's like I told the other agents. No."

"And your wife?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

Gibbs reached into the case file and placed a sheet down.

"Explain," Gibbs said.

"I don't understand," Kahale said. "Are these my phone records?"

"Yeah," Tony said, "There were three calls during the night. One of which you made. You called Michael."

"How do you know it was Michael? It could've been anyone."

"Like who?" Tony asked. "Who would you call at one in the morning that used a number that magically disappeared after use?"

There were a couple of 'um's and 'well's as Kahale fished for an answer. And Gibbs was able to fill in Kahale's awkward moment. "Adrian Rodriguez."

Johnathan Kahale blinked. "Who?"

"Don't know him?" Tony said, hoping to get any sort of recognition, although it was apparent the name was meaningless to the man. "First Lieutenant Adrian Rodriguez. He was assigned to the same ship as your son. He used the same technique Michael used. Make a call. Dump the phone. You have quite the phone history. Remarkably, so do the First Lieutenant's parents. In fact, most of the calls you received from out of service numbers align perfectly with the First Lieutenant's folks. Gap lengths and all. Same day. Same hour. Same location."

Kahale sighed heavily. "It was Michael."

"Why'd you call him?" Gibbs asked.

"Wanted to set up a place to meet?" Tony suggested. "A place to kill him?"

"No! Never!"

"So why lie about contacting him?" Tony asked. "Was it your wife? She doesn't like him. That much is obvious. So what? Keep it hidden? Keep the son you had with another woman a little secret?"

"Michael wasn't some dirty secret!"

"He went missing," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Tony said, adding some interpretation to that topic. "Why did he run away?"

Kahale shifted in his seat. "He didn't run away," he said. But his posture displayed the doubt he had. Interesting. If he had communicated with his son, shouldn't he have known the answer to that?

Gibbs opened the file again and placed down pictures of Michael's body in autopsy. He also placed down Ducky's official report. "He had tissue and muscle scars old enough to have been done before he disappeared," Gibbs said.

Kahale's eyes flashed up at Gibbs. "You imply that he had ever been beaten in my home, Agent Gibbs?"

"He was different," Tony said, hoping to diffuse the situation and redirect some of the clear revulsion from Kahale onto himself. "No pictures. No social life. Behavioral problems. No steady school. Mother doesn't exist. Who was she? Just some random chick?"

"She wasn't random. And she wasn't just some chick. She was intelligent. Exquisite. Knowledgeable about every subject. Well-travelled. Skilled beyond measure. She knew me before I even laid eyes on her. She's a goddess. And I fell for her, even knowing the consequences."

Wow. Tony might be jealous if his partner lit up like that about a previous flame that had no records. Not to mention, bringing a kid into the picture.

"I loved his mother. I still do. No matter how much she may now despise me. And I love Michael. I could never blame him for any of the things he brought with him. How could I blame him?"

'Blame him?'

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"Why'd he leave?" Tony said.

Kahale let out a breath. "He wanted to find his mother's relatives."

"Is she dead?" Tony asked.

Kahale shrugged. How helpful.

"You didn't know where they were?" Gibbs asked.

"No."

"So, what," Tony said, wrapping his head around this idea. "You just let a ten-year-old kid travel the country? Unsupervised? Alone? With not a clue where to go?"

"It wasn't planned," Kahale said, "He didn't say anything; he just left."

"But," Tony dragged the vowel out. "You were okay with his disappearance?"

The silence was the confirmation.

This was crazy! Who would do that? No, scratch that. Tony knew the answer to that. But these people just didn't fit that profile. This guy had to be lying. He was just following the given story, hoping that it would pan out.

"Well," Tony said, "that would explain why a couple of lawyers sent a missing person file knowing nothing would happen."

"Get someone to review his statements," Gibbs said, packing up the case file. "You're not charged with murder yet, but you will be charged with a list of other crimes."

Tony flung the door out dramatically. "Yeah, like child neglect."

Gibbs walked out, and Tony started to close the door, slowing down so it wouldn't close too fast. He waited for Kahale to plea. To bargain. To let loose.

But he didn't. And Tony had to eventually close the door. The click as empty as the amount of nothing they had gotten from that interrogation.

-Ζήβα-

Ziva sat on the corner of the table as Gibbs took up his spot on the chair.

Patricia Kahale sat on the other chair, hands folded and eyes pointed straight at the one-way viewing glass. She had remained silent on the car ride over. Interestingly enough, she had not requested a lawyer even though promising she would when last questioned.

Gibbs placed down the profiles of the two children, Jeremy Swallar and Natasha Hibashira.

"Last time you were here," Gibbs started, "You told me you did not recognize them."

Gibbs waited for a reaction. Mrs. Kahale did not so much as avert her gaze.

"Mrs. Kahale?" Ziva asked. 'If this is how it's going to be, we might as well just cut-'

"Who's on the other side?"

Ziva blinked, forced out of her thoughts.

"Another agent," Gibbs said.

"One of yours?"

"Yes."

"No one else?"

"No, just my guy."

"Good."

Ziva remembered how Mrs. Kahale reacted to Agent La Rue and seemed to dislike Agent Jackson. Did she know something they did not?

Gibbs tapped on the pictures. "You said you didn't know them."

Mrs. Kahale glanced at them. "I did."

"You lied."

"A mistake, surely."

"You were seen talking to them at a bar," Ziva said.

"What did you say to them?" Gibbs asked.

"I didn't say anything to them," Kahale stated. "Besides, aren't they a little young to be at a bar unaccompanied?"

"Who said they were unaccompanied?" Ziva asked.

"Was that not what you implied? Why would I talk to them, if they had their parents with them?"

Ziva had to hand it to Kahale. She could dance. Ziva gave her a little smile. If only just.

"They were looking for a ride," Ziva said, "We believe you suggested them to go to Tarsibo. He is your client, after all."

"I did not speak to them."

"You don't want to talk about them. Fine," Gibbs said, "How about we talk about your stepson. You haven't seen him for years?"

"No."

"You haven't spoken to him?"

"No."

"Your husband was," Gibbs said.

"N-" Mrs. Kahale stopped and threw them a questioning look. "If he was, I have no knowledge of that."

Ziva frowned. "So, you did not know that your husband was in regular contact with Michael?"

"No."

"Did you know your husband called him right before he died?" Ziva asked.

"No."

"You told me you didn't know he joined the Marines. Did you not know what happened to him? That he was even alive? Did you not care? Your husband never told you anything, and you never asked?"

"No," Mrs. Kahale said.

Ziva leaned back. One word for all of her questions. She was used to it, but Gibbs at least cared.

"I suppose it was his way of respecting my desire to not be a part of it," Mrs. Kahale said. She scoffed. "His way of shielding me from that side of his life."

"His ex-wife," Gibbs clarified.

"She was never his wife," Mrs. Kahale said.

Gibbs shrugged. "Your husband had a kid with her. He speaks very highly of her. I would understand if you were resentful."

Mrs. Kahale glared at him. "I don't hate her, Agents," she said, "But if she's so smart, why does she make so many rash decisions? I'll tell you why. Selfishness. Pride. She doesn't have to deal with the consequences of her actions. Someone else always deals with them."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. Yes. Definitely resentful.

"Sounds like you know her," Gibbs said.

"No. But I've heard plenty of stories."

"What kind of stories?" Ziva asked.

"Dramas."

Gibbs hummed. "You would describe them as tragedies?"

Mrs. Kahale lifted her chin. "I would."

"Like the epic stories of the Greek myths," Gibbs said.

Mrs. Kahale said nothing.

"Your husband said she was a goddess. So, was he a part of some cult?"

Mrs. Kahale kept silent.

Ziva narrowed her eyes. The woman obviously did not like whatever it was her husband and this mystery woman were a part of. Why keep silent?

"You can tell us what's going on," Ziva said, "We will help you. Why don't you say anything? Are you being threatened? Your children are here and safe."

Mrs. Kahale swallowed. "It's nothing like that."

Oh, but it was. There was a response at the indication of being threatened and her kids, just as clear as to when Gibbs mentioned Greek myths.

"The kids," Gibbs said, tapping the pictures. "How do they fit in this?"

The woman looked down and took a breath, collecting herself. Ziva sat back. 'Just when we were making progress.' Were they looking at this wrong? Were the kids simply an unrelated event?

Patricia gave an annoyed huff. "As I already told you-"

The files flew from the desk. Gibbs was frustrated. Ziva did not envy this woman. He slammed his hands on the table, glaring down at her. "Then tell me something new. And make it the truth."

No. Ziva did not envy this woman at all.

The door clicked open.

Gibbs turned his death glare at McGee.

"Um, B-Boss," he stammered, "you really need to know this."

Ziva quickly followed after Gibbs. Although apparently suicidal, McGee was still a dear friend, and Ziva wouldn't like to see Gibbs murder him.

Gibbs growled. "What."

McGee nervously wet his lips.

"Well, Ducky has already released his findings. All these reporters who were following the case got them and reported the info to their respective medias. Reshaun Sachs, the bartender; you knew that, of course- well know, you haven't forgotten. Well, he decided to find out what was going on since his business is obviously involved and-"

Oh no. McGee was rambling. And Gibbs's face was darkening with each word. Would her gun be helpful? Or perhaps her knife would be more practical. She decided on simply clearing her throat. Loudly. McGee stuttered to a stop. Ziva gave him a pointed look.

Ziva was relieved when she saw his face alight with understanding.

"Patricia Kahale was at The Drowsy Owl during the time of death. She could not have killed Staff Sergeant Michael Kahale."

-Αντώνης-

Tony did not like this.

He watched as Gibbs and Ziva entered the interrogation room.

"You are free to go, Mr. Kahale," Ziva said.

"Thank you. If I can just see my wife, then we can-"

"Your wife isn't cleared," Gibbs said.

"What?"

"She admitted to killing your son."

"What?! No! She couldn't have."

"How do you know?" Ziva said, clicking the door shut behind her.

"She was at home."

"Weren't you home as well?"

"Yes, but- she just couldn't have done it."

"We know," Gibbs said, taking a seat. "Although not in your house, she is witnessed being at a bar during the time of the murder."

"Then you know she didn't do it. That she's innocent."

"Mr. Kahale, aren't you curious as to why she would be at a bar so late at night?" Ziva asked. "Not telling you and lying that she was?"

"Maybe she was meeting with her friends. I trust my wife."

"Have any idea as to whom these friends might be?" Gibbs said.

"No, I did not see them."

"What did they tell you?"

"Nothing. As I said. I did not see them."

"But you spoke with them. You received a call before and after you spoke with Michael. A blocked number."

"You had to be awake to answer your phone. You had to have known your wife was not lying asleep next to you. Why did you lie?"

"No, I-"

"Did you follow her?" Ziva said.

"Were you at your house?" Gibbs asked.

"Ye-"

"We have your kids here," Ziva said, "We can ask them."

"How about you ask them?" Gibbs said.

"Stop, please-"

"Maybe," Gibbs said, "you can tell them why you killed their brother."

"THEY HAD HER!" Mr. Kahale screamed. "They had Patty! And they were going to kill her! Unless…unless…"

"Unless you killed Michael," Ziva finished for him.

A gasp broke Tony's attention away from the interrogation room to the reason he was placed behind the glass. Patricia Kahale stood next to him with her hands over her mouth, staring intently at the scene before her.

"I warned him. I called him. They gave me a car and a bullet. I needed to save my wife. I wanted him to help me. But he said there was no time and that there was no one in D.C. that could help."

He bowed his head. "They had my wife," he sobbed.

"No," Patricia whispered.

"She's not part of this life," Mr. Kahale said, "She shouldn't die from it. How could I have brought her into it?"

"No," Patricia said again, and the look in her eyes gave Tony a bad feeling. "John, no!"

Tony was a half-second too late. The woman ran out of the viewing room. Tony sped out after her to see her flinging the interrogation room open.

"How could you do it?!" She cried.

"Boss," Tony said, "I'm sorry she just…" He stopped as Gibbs held a hand up.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Kahale said, "But I couldn't let you be involved. I couldn't let them have you! And you came back home and didn't say anything, acting fine-"

"I was always involved! Michael's stench led them to our family even after he left. They threatened to take me, you, our kids. They told me what they did to people."

"You took up a deal," Gibbs said, "You help them get what they wanted, they leave you alone."

Mrs. Kahale nodded.

"How many are there?"

"Too many. It's a nest that has grown through some sort of pact between them all, and nothing is killing them."

"Why didn't you call the police?" Ziva asked her.

"That would just make things worse. Besides, Michael has obviously delivered a message to his people."

Gibbs froze for a second.

"Boss?" Tony asked. What was going on?

Gibbs snapped out of it. "You two," he told the Kahales, "Stay."

He stalked out of the room. Ziva and Tony followed, having to jog to keep up with him. Tony quickly texted McGee a heads up and to send the Kahale kids back upstairs. When Gibbs took the stairs, they knew whatever he figured out was bad.

"McGee!" Gibbs barked. "Search the Long Island team."

"But I already- okay," McGee easily complied, after looking at his boss, "Looking up Lima."

McGee shared his screen on the plasma as he loaded up the federal database.

"No," Gibbs said, "Not Lima. Don't go through any federal sites."

"Um, okay? Doing an internet search of Percy Jackson."

"News sites," Gibbs said.

"Boss there are hundreds of Percy Jacksons," McGee scrolling through articles, "We'll never find-"

"That one," Gibbs pointed.

It was an article from a few years ago. "Percy Jackson, Criminal or Victim?" The photo had an image of a young, disheveled Percy Jackson. And by his side…

McGee was freaking out. "Boss, I'm sorry. Their profiles should have-"

"Her," Gibbs pointed, "Age her up to now."

"Right. Aging."

McGee cut out the photo of the blonde and plugged it into the program. He had wisely shut his trap. As the image began to come into focus, Tony felt his heart stop. There was no denying it.

"Gibbs," Ziva said, quietly, "That's-"

BANG! Gibbs slammed his desk drawer closed and shoved his firearm in its place at his hip. There was utter silence in the bullpen as Gibbs strode off.

A few seconds later, Tony was the first to move. No matter how angry Gibbs was, Tony was still a cop. The rest of his teammates quickly followed.

They left the image of Annabeth Chase, otherwise known as NCIS Special Agent Anne Lima, on the screen behind them.

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