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knightprincess · 8 months

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Forgive Me (Echo x Medic Reader) Part 14

Words: 2k Warning: None but a little bit of fluff ... I think

The moment the Marauder touched down on Anaxes, Anakin had been swept away by Obi-wan, no doubt to an immediate meeting with the Jedi Council. The Jedi Knight had little doubt he would be grilled for his actions and once again disobeying direct orders, as was the norm when he found a loophole. However, this time would be different as he had defied the order for any reason other than to help friends. Rex had told him of the theory Echo was still alive and brought his evidence, he couldn't turn his back on one of his closest and most loyal friends. (Y/N) too had been a reason. She hadn't been herself since Fives' death. She become far colder than before and determined to prove his innocence. Plus she all but rejected love from those around her, especially those who wanted to pursue a romantic relationship. He wanted to help Snap remember who she had been before Fives' died, before Echo had been lost at the Citadel before her heart had been shattered.

Rex, on the other hand, had simply led the way to Snap's medbay, suspecting she'd be there caring for the troopers injured in the battles while they were away. The members of the bad batch followed behind quietly, the only sound escaping the group was the light tapping from Tech fiddling with his datapad and the subtle clunking from Echo's prosthetics. Nonetheless, the silence to settled over them was a comfortable one, it allowed them to find some sort of peace in the war raging on around them and truly allowed them to hear their own thoughts. Some of them thought about what their next mission would be, Would they be thrown in the jaws of doom again or be sent on something considered softer than normal? Rex on the other hand could only think of Snap and her reaction. He'd not told her when leaving for the mission to retrieve Echo if only to spare her the heartbreak, should it be a cruel trap by the seppies. The great captain knew for sure either Gregor or Wolffe would be around somewhere, keeping an eye on her as the senate had declared for all civvie medics in the field.

Echo on the other hand thoughts had turned to all the things he'd missed. Gregor had apparently been found on the backwater planet known as the void, apparently with no recollection of how he ended up there. Fives, Tup, and Hardcase were gone as were many others he'd once called friends and brother. Soon enough his thoughts rallied to the impending reunion with (Y/N), he knew she'd changed, everyone in the war had. But still, he questioned if she would be happy to see him or even care for his return. He felt his nerves begin to rise, as his mind clouded with fear of rejection once more. Especially now when she was so different from his brothers and had done so much against those he once fought to protect.

Before Echo really knew it, the group of troopers were passing over the threshold of Snap's medbay, Much to the surprise of Rex the area was completely empty besides (Y/N) and Gregor, the commando preoccupied with winding Snap up. Although he stopped the moment his honey eyes found the group, specifically the once missing arc trooper. After which his only action was to draw her attention to the group, even if that meant hiding her datapad for the time being.

Snap had been about to reach for her datapad again when Gregor pointed to the quiet group. Upon turning to them she paled, so many emotions passing over her tired features. Slowly she stepped around her desk, trying to will her brain to catch up and to determine if she was seeing things or if her Echo was there. Rex and the members of the Bad Batch didn't say a word as they got comfy on the beds in the room waiting for their mandatory check-up before being released back into the field or receiving any treatment necessary.

"Hey, Snap" voiced Echo, mentally berating himself for saying something so stupid. They'd been separated for almost two years at that point, she deserved more than just a simple hey. He'd been about to say something else when he felt a hand collide with his cheek, sending his head whipping to the side with some force. His honey eyes were wide with shock as he turned to face her once more. (Y/N) seemed just as taken aback by her own actions, but there was also something else alight in her eyes now, something that hadn't been there before. Hope.

"Sorry, had to make sure you were real" commented Snap, before repeating her actions, this time to Gregor chuckling and Crosshair making a snide comment. "That was for leaving without telling me the truth" she added before directing him over to one of the empty beds, a small grin coming to her lips although sadness was still present in her eyes.

"Please spare us the drama and do him last" voiced Crosshair, wishing to be anywhere but there when the inevitable display of affection occurred. Even more so when it was obvious Echo was trying his hardest to stay still and do as Snap had commanded. (Y/N) simply nodded before starting with Wrecker, knowing the human wrecking ball hated medical checkups, probably more so than the needles that normally accompanied them. The moment she gave the lovable soldier his clean bill of health he practically jumped off the bed and ran for the exit, as if on the verge of achieving victory and escaping a prison.

Crosshair had volunteered to be the next one, as per usual making comments, he didn't go far when Snap was finished with him, instead waiting for Tech and Hunter to be cleared or given any treatment needed. Once again Hunter was given something for his sensitivity and Tech flirted with (Y/N) even if he did so unknowingly, complimenting her work and skills as a healer. Rex too was released after a small dose of Bacta gel and a thank you from Snap. Gregor left with him, although he mentioned he'd be just outside the door should Snap be in need of him.

Silence once again fell over the medbay, from a distance (Y/N) assessed what she'd need. Quickly determining she'd need to do both a physical and mental assessment on the man she still had the urge to call her Arc Trooper. At the same time, she came to the conclusion she'd have to look over all the prosthetics and implants the Techno Union had put in place.

"Sorry about whacking you earlier. Almost two years ago I lost you, then without any warning you were here. I thought I was losing my marbles again" started Snap, admitting her reaction had been more from questioning her own sanity than punishing him for leaving her behind. Echo's eyes shone with surprise, Had he really affected her that much? What else had she been through for her to question the reality surrounding her? "Get comfy Mr. Arc Trooper, it's gonna be a long one. Gregor may as well go get some caf and enjoy a game of Dejarik with Wolffe" she continued, catching Gregor's salute from the door and leaving with Rex.

"Thank you" blurted Echo, before he could truly grasp what was happening or the words to fall from his lips. Snap glanced at him in confusion, but there was no judgment as the Arc Trooper had convinced himself there would be, instead Snap looked at him as if he was the regular trooper he'd been before as if nothing at all had changed. When in truth everything had. "When I was ... when I was a ... alone. They probed my mind, you kept me company. Became my defence against them. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten through the isolation or the torment of being a weapon against my brothers, against the republic" whispered Echo, admitting she'd helped him even when she didn't know it. But refusing to admit the isolation had coursed far more damage than he would ever admit. Just as he wouldn't admit the other things he'd suffered through at the hands of the Techno Union or the thoughts of betrayal and abandonment his desperate mind had created.

"Thank you for coming back" whispered Snap when she drew close enough. Her words served as a way to distract him from the injection, she caught him with. "Mental assessment is complete for now, your words gave a fair bit away" she calmly elaborated, making notes on her datapad, while resisting the urge to throw it aside and forget her manners. The man her heart set itself on was before her now, different yet still somehow the same, while her mind screamed at her to remain professional until her duties were done, her heart was yelling at her to give in and embrace him, to finally allow herself to feel the love she had forcibly shut away at some point.

"You haven't changed a bit. Exactly the way I remember" warmly spoke Echo. After all the time to have passed and everything to have happened, the words others had spoken. He'd expected even prepared himself for Snap to be a different person. Yes, she was colder towards the Jedi and some other Civvi Medics, but she still had the same warmth and caring towards the troopers. She still accepted each as they were and called them by the names chosen. The only difference was, now she had an army of big brothers, and her bright smile had dimmed a little.

"Save us the torment already and kiss" came a voice from the entrance. Snap could only chuckle as Jesse quickly dogged back behind the door, or rather was yanked back behind it by someone, there was little doubt in (Y/N)'s mind it was a member of the famed Wolf Pack or perhaps even Cody.

"They haven't changed much either. Jesse's still one of the biggest flirts I know and Cody is still Obi-Wan's biggest fan" laughed Snap, letting a small yelp escape her lips when she felt arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in a warmish embrace. Echo was gentle not to hurt her with his scomp link or the implants scattered across his body. His left hand brushed through her silky hair, as he breathed in the familiar vanilla, jasmine, and peppermint scent. His only wish was to do as Jesse had suggested and kiss her, but somehow found his body wouldn't respond to his wishful command. Instead, the pair stayed in the locked embrace.

As if on cue, Echo could hear Fives' voice ringing in his ears, a simple yet sarcastic "finally" on repeat, along with the normal grin Fives would have given and no doubt followed by a sarcastic comment on waiting far too long. Shortly after Echo's mind came up with the scenario of being chased around the base by Wolffe, acting as the big brother Snap never had and being overly protective of her. Rex following along behind with the simple request of keeping Echo in one piece, with Gregor near Snap and the many Jedi Generals being confused for the most part.

"Sorry I waited so long" whispered Echo, before releasing her, at least allowing her to return to her duties before giving into the temptation of pulling her to him once more and finally kissing her. By the time the pair separated, Anakin had appeared from the Council Meeting, where his brows had once been creased, and anger had been displayed on his features. A sense of peace and a rare smile had taken over him the moment he entered Snap's medbay, finally, the pair had been reunited, finally, Echo was home again and finally (Y/N) was allowing herself to truly feel again, rather than locking all her emotions and feelings away in a durasteel box. Finally, there was a sense of love that had been missing for so long.

Finally, Snap had more than friendship to fight for.

Masterlist

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gayscifi · 2 months

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Thoughts on My Own Jewishness and the Palestinian Genocide

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸

(very long post)

My name is Tal, it's a Hebrew name meaning morning dew. I'm transgender and picked my name over 10 years ago because I am proud of being Jewish and wanted an obviously Jewish name. I'm 27, poor, disabled and a transgender man in a gay relationship with a cis Muslim man. I want you to have all of that context before I tell you how I feel about the current genocide of the Palestinians, the State of Isreal and my relationship to these things as a Jew.

I didn't know I was Jewish until my grandmother died when I was 12. After she died my brothers, cousins and I were put in charge of sorting through her things. We found her menorah, shabbat candle holders and kosher dishes. We were young and frankly uneducated, it was years of my eldest brother and others putting the pieces together and finding records of our family when we began to understand who we were.

Our great grandparents, on both my grandfather and grandmother's side were smuggled into America from Germany and Poland through the Houston port by a Rabbi near the beginning of WW2, the port that I've lived next to for most of my life. My grandparents were born in the Houston area and were, as I understand it "Catholic outside and Jewish at home". My grandfather's father returned to Poland after the Holocaust to try and find members of his family, he killed himself with a shogun through the head shortly after returning to the U.S, when my grandfather was still a teenager.

My grandmother had almost a dozen siblings, most of her sisters died in mental institutions and several of her brothers had killed themselves or died of overdose, my grandfather also had a dozen siblings, they had similar fates. My grandparents were alcoholics and are now both dead.

My father and his 3 siblings grew up going to Catholic school not understanding the language his parents spoke to each other or why his family was so different from the others around him. Not until my grandmother died and all the secrets began to pour out.

By the time I was 14, everyone was starting to put the pieces together. My grandparents had bought a piece of land miles away from any town when I was a baby. They hoarded films, art, music, world history books, encyclopedias, several freezers full of food, pantries of non-perishables, more guns and ammo than I ever thought anyone could use and liquor they would knock back every day with cartons of cigarettes that made the house smell like a chimney. That was their way of coping, shut the world out, be ready for the next Holocaust. Of course all of this would lead my family to believe that we were Ashkenazi Jews.

My parents had gone on a trip to Turkey before I was born and fell in love with it. My entire life it was their dream to return and raise their family there but between my father being a plant worker and mechanic and my mother a substitute teacher. It wasn't until I was 17 that we finally moved, not because we had the money but because my mother needed to be the primary source of income since my father had begun suffering from cancer. Selling most of our belongings and my mom getting a job as an English teacher finally brought my family to Turkey. My dad got to spend some of his final years there before he died.

We moved to a port city on the Black Sea near the Georgian border named Trabzon. Strangely, I felt at home immediately. I had learned Turkish enough to go out, make friends and get a part time job within 6 months. My father and I didn't read as foreigners to the locals at all, in fact many elder people would come up to me speaking Lazca, the language of the Laz people, one of the many small Caucus tribes in the region, assuming I was Laz myself and could help translate for them to Turks in the city.

There were very few foreigners in the city and most of us knew each other since most of us taught at the foreign language schools. One of the teachers I was friends with was a boy, now a man, my same age, who was born and raised in a refugee camp in Jordan. His father, Palestinian and his mother, Cherkess(another Caucus tribe who had been displaced). He spoke 4 different languages and taught Arabic and English at the same school I worked at.

We became fast friends, being the youngest(only 18 at the time) at the school. Both his parents and mine were wary of our closeness but we genuinely didn't understand their issues with our friendship.

He told me about growing up in the camps in Jordan, he told me about being Palestinian and Cherkess and not being able to go to either of his homes. I told him about being Jewish and how my identity was kept secret for generations for the safety of my family.

He asked me what I thought about Isreal and to be honest this was my first time thinking of it, since I'd only been to a synagogue a handful of times and hadn't been subject to Zionist propaganda in American Jewish spaces. He told me about Zionism from a Palestinian perspective, how he had watched the news for years hearing about his cousins and other family members dying at the hands of the IDF.

I found it appalling, how could Jewish people, my people, be doing such atrocities to others after what I known we had been through. The Holocaust, the genocide of my people had left scars on every member of my family that had made most of them unable to continue living.

That conversation, just months into our years long friendship has shaped me into the person I am today. He gave me a Keffiyeh that night and I told him that I would never go to Palestine until we could go together. We cried for a long time that night, sharing stories.

After living in Turkey and learning more about the different Caucus tribes in the region my eldest brother and I determined the origin of our last name. A Turkic name, not German or Polish, meaning that my family was not entirely Ashkenazi but instead from the Black Sea Region, most likely the small Jewish Crimean tribe called Krymchak, the majority of the whom died in the Holocaust and I had been unknowingly living the closest to home that my family had in generations. In Turkey, on the Black Sea, not in Isreal.

I am proud of being Jewish. I love how I have found my identity and am part of the first generation of my family since the Holocaust to be authentic in my ethnicity. Zionism will never take that away from me. Zionism is a lie, an evil, manipulative, murderous political agenda. I have not and will never be a part of it and it will never take my Jewishness away from me.

I have found more in common with Palestinians I have met through protesting Isreal, more in common with ethnic minorities protesting U.S. imperialism, more in common with other displaced minorities than I have ever found with Isreal.

The genocide of the Palestinians is always on my mind but I feel no guilt as a Jewish person. I know I am not to blame nor have I ever been complicit in this genocide but to my fellow Jews, who are in pro-Zionist, pro-Isreali spaces, I am calling for a radical change in those communities, wake the fuck up.

Fuck Isreal, fuck Zionism, fuck American and European Imperialism and fuck antisemitism. I have a particular hatred for these so called "Pro-Jewish" actions happening in North America and Europe. German civilians knew of the death camps during the Holocaust and did nothing. Now their children and grandchildren are saying that Palestinians are anitsemites while they live on the wealth and land they extracted from dead Jews.

The rise of global antisemitism is in part because of the State of Isreal, because of Zionism, because of the atrocities committed by Jewish people, their twisted, evil and cruel treatment of Palestinians for years that has led to genocide. Supporting Palestinians in their struggle against annihilation is not and will never be antisemitism and to say it is shows how little you understand Jewish or Palestinian history.

Recognize Zionism for what it truly is; a way for powerful nations to rid themselves of their Jewish populations and use them as cannon fodder for control over land and resources in the Middle East. Joe Biden said it himself "If Israel didn't exist, we would have to invent it." This is not a war for a "safe home for the Jewish people", it is an ethnic cleansing of Palestinians to claim power and control.

Palestinians have every right to resist annihilation. My heart aches, knowing deeply what genocide does to those who remain.

I will continue to support the Palestinian cause in every way I know how.

From the River to the Sea,

Palestine will be Free 🇵🇸

#anti zionisim #free palestine #anti zionist jews #jewish history #palestine #mine

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ner0ticmemories · 3 months

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i. mila ramirez hyde ( ages 14-17 ) ; 4'11

mila is daughter and step daughter of benjamin and katherine hyde. in a settled agreement at birth, benjamin was given full custody of mila to assure the best future for herself since her birth mother ( camila lucía ramirez ) just couldn't provide the necessary requirements ( her mother was also an active prostitute till she tragically died during a job when mila was the age of ten ) . she despises her step mother and detests her father. she can't stand church and is the complete opposite of the hyde family name. she dresses down ( not like a regal ), she cusses ( manners aren't her thing ), and she certainly doesn't trust god ( her ideology of god is shaped solely off of her father's teachings, so it's extremely warped and also tampered with from dante's possessions ). she's very sensitive to affection, being that she lacked any sort growing up, but does still have some sort of soft center to her enraged pain. because overall, she just wants a father who truly cares for her and a mother who isn't katherine. but, most of her days are filled with bizarre uncomfortable cult like rituals posed as purifications for the psychiatric redemption center or providing false claims of how wonderful her father is to make him happy. because if he's happy? he leaves her alone. and she rather peace than bullshit. meet miss mila hyde everyone.

IMPORTANT NOTE: mila is hispanic/american, hispanic from her mother's side and ramirez was mila's grandfather's last name which was one of the main requests for mila to have for some sort of connection to her hispanic heritage, one mila does look to in secret. ( additional info below on her relationship with her birth mother before her death )

as camila was in a dangerous world, her communication with mila was scarce, but extremely important to the both of them. she didn't hide what she did, but she also didn't try to bring mila in it as well. letters, little gifts, photos, visits ( when she could ) were all but a few things of the long list camila did to be the best mother she could in the ways she knew how. each phone call ended with a prayer in spanish to "their god" ( as mila puts it ) and does so each night to herself ( sometimes repeats it when she's really missing her mother ). she also keeps around her wrist a hand knitted bracelet her mother made for her. one she never plans to take off.

#mila ramirez hyde info.#her story is sad af #and to know #her mother did it #thinking she was #doing what was best #for her child #so either way #mila was going down #a chaotic path #ugh #my heart #i love her so much already.. :(

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practically-an-x-man · 1 month

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4, 8, 9, 11, 14, 18, 23 for Gia and Eris

Thank you!! Dude you're seriously my saving grace on this, I've been waiting all night to get asks for this one :D

OC Ask Game Time

4) What color or colors do you most associate with your OC?

Eris: Gold, ochre, crimson, and cobalt - the sorts of colors you'd see in ancient paints, historical signs of power, and the color of blood

Gia: Clover green, of course, but also a soft tulip pink and perhaps an earthy brown. Life, growth, new beginnings.

8) Greatest strength and greatest flaw about your OC?

Eris: Their greatest strength is their resilience. Above everything else, he will push through the struggles and survive. His greatest flaw is probably their emotional constipation, since it both damages the social bonds she does have and prevents them from making those connections in the first place.

Gia: Her greatest strength is her kindness. She's one of those people who's been through hell and never ever shows it, she's always got a kind word and a couch to crash on for those that need it. Her greatest flaw is her timidity - she's afraid of being crushed by life again, so she doesn't ever take risks, she lives by the same routine day-in and day-out.

9) What is your OC’s greatest wish/dream/goals?

Eris: Doesn't have a lot of long-running dreams or hopes, they really tend to take life as it comes and not worry much about what could be. If he's got one larger goal, it's to eventually abolish all human slavery in the world (through any, and she means any, means necessary). If they've got a smaller goal, it's to make their life with Rick as long and pleasant as they can while he's still around.

Gia: She just wants to live a normal life, and to put all this HYDRA business behind her. Her aspirations are mostly limited to keeping her shop comfortably afloat (perhaps to the point that she can hire someone to keep things running when the clover goes through a rough patch and she gets sick) and having enough left over for coffee and new books and maybe a few Broadway tickets.

11) What actor or voice actor do you see best playing as your OC?

Eris: I'm still torn between May Calamawy and Alia Shawkat, I like May's overall look a little better (and she'd get those fight scenes right for sure) but Alia has the freckles and I really see Eris with freckles like that

Gia: Zyra Gorecki! She's an amputee in real life, and she's got the right look for Gia outside that too

14) What about any siblings, do they have any and is their relationship good?

Eris: Doesn't have any "siblings" per say, but Diana/Wonder Woman is a bit like a cousin. She's always been seen as the golden child, always fighting for the good of humanity and all that, and Eris just tends to avoid her as much as he can. They don't really think about her all that much, but they do get annoyed to be compared to her. It's the one competition he's never been able to get ahead in, Diana will always be the better hero even if Eris ends up making more of a difference in the world as a whole.

Gia: I didn't imagine her with any siblings at first, but this question has got me thinking about it a little more... I could see her with an older sibling, maybe - they were close growing up, and the sibling set off for their big aspirations about the time Gia ended up in HYDRA, sibling thought she died and she was afraid to reconnect because so much had changed... I guess I'm seeing it a bit like your Siv and Esme dynamic. I need to think more on it, work out all the details.

18) What is your OC’s greatest fear?

Eris: I think they are genuinely, irrevocably terrified of time and don't even realize it. I mean, think about it - he leaves one country for another, comes back after what feels like only a few years to find that everyone she knew is dead, the cities don't look the same, the rules are different and they can never go back to what they remember.

So they leave that place... and every other place is like that. All they can do is bounce around in this same dance - so they're drawn to war because bloodshed is always the same, except then it's not, then there are guns and drones and battles fought through computers and the art of war is just another memory.

The only place that could ever be constant is Themyscira, and he doesn't want to go back there. It's both better and worse once he meets Rick: she's perpetually reminded of how fleeting time is, with his human lifespan, yet is encouraged to appreciate each individual day and year more than they did before (which lessens the feeling of time slipping away from them)

Gia: She's terrified of death, plain and simple. She came close to death too many times in HYDRA, and having her life force separated from her feels oddly more vulnerable than having it tied to her body - it's one thing to know that any car accident or stray bullet could end her life, it's another to think that someone could burn down her flower shop when she's not even home, and leave her screaming like she's on fire in the middle of the grocery store. It takes a lot to convince her to leave her shop at all, especially for longer than a few hours, since she's so afraid of something happening to her clover.

23) Is your OC religious and what religion? If it’s a fictional religion for your story please give a summary of the core teachings of their faith?

Eris: Grew up on Themyscira, which I suppose is somewhere between Ancient Greek and Modern Hellenistic, but has a general knowledge of most of the world's religions. She doesn't actively believe in any real higher power herself, but she's got a bit of an academic appreciation for how different parts of the world see religion.

Gia: This is another thing I'm torn about - I see her growing up in a highly academic, scientific family, which is part of how she ends up getting into HYDRA, so I don't feel like she'd grow up around religion. But I also think it could be interesting if she is religious, at least as an adult.... with nothing else to do while stuck in HYDRA, she found herself praying for her life, and surviving where the other test subjects died felt to her like a divine forgiveness. I think she'd have a very complicated grasp on religion, and I think it could be really fun to explore, but since I'm not religious myself I still need to try and work out all the kinks first

#my friends!!!#answered asks #ask game #my ocs #oc eris #gia pantazis

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animesllut666 · 2 years

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He is.. my step dad.

Characters: Toji X GNReader

Anime: Jujutsu kaisen

Type: Headcannon

Warnings: Cursing, fighting, rudeness, yelling, teasing, brief mention of animal abuse, bullies.

Summary: 14 year old … Fushiguro just discovered they have a new step dad. What would life be like for them?

He wouldn't be one of those new step dad's that would try too get you too like him

Nope, he wouldn't even care if you cussed him out or even threw a knife at him

100% would laugh at your attempt to scare him

You fought with him for a while

Picking him apart, teasing him, talking over him etc.. pretty rude towards him

Then again.. this guy just showed up one day an your mom was shocked by your annoyance.

Slowly you start to get used to him ... Somewhat

Picks you up from school, just to piss you off. Since he IS good looking, it caused a steer amongst students AND faculty.

Learns to bring Megumi an Tsumiki along, cuz you weren't as vicious towards him

Finds out that you stand up to bullies, an would back you up one day.

You would make meals for everyone (kids) an leave a little for him

"You need help gumdrop?" "No, go away Toji" stands back while you whoop some ass.

He would call you nicknames just to piss you off. Pats your head if you were fully done growing, lifts you up cuz the man is STRONG, he loves to tease you.

He didn't mind, he found it nice that you even left him some

I SERIOUSLY THINK HE A HIDDEN COOK, CAN MAKE ANYTHING

So imagine your shock when he makes a beef Wellington, an brings out a homemade gravy that made you melt

An start to accept him.. sort of

"What are you doing?" You found him one day sharping all his knifes an polishing his guns

Your mother knew of his occupation, but told him to keep it from you

"Ugh.. my hobby?"

"Are ... Are you an assassin or something?"

"Yes."

Imagine that conversation with your mom an you, "HE AN ASSASSIN! HOW... HOW WHAT THE FUCK?! HOW THE HELL DO I KNOW HE WONT KILL US? OR EVEN KNOW HE WONT GIVE US UP FOR MONEY OR SOMETHING?!" (... Megumi...)

"I wouldn't get much for you, just maybe 1 yen."

Threw a knife and spoon an this motherfucker caught them so fast an sent them back.

😲 <- you -> 🤔 thinking for a second

"Can.. can you teach me?"

Que your weird love hate teaching relationship with him

He teaches you how to fight, much against your mother wishes.

Little did any of them know, you weren't the purest angel either

"No, if your going to kick me in the gut, put your full strength behind it."

After awhile, you both kind of bond, an he starts to tell you about his past. You both had similar childhoods, abandoned an alone..till a child an sibling came in.

Though, you do have a hate relationship (mainly you), if anyone tries to say anything negative about him best believe you were in there face

"If anyone is going to say negative things about him. It'll be me!"

"Hey! He maybe a deadbeat but he is OUR DEADBEAT" CUE HIS "YEAH.. THE FUCK?!"

One time someone took you hostage, an his training paid off cuz he arrived to see the guys beaten to a blood pulp.

"huh, could have killed them" "Toji! Can I get some praise?"

Straight out found his last name was Zenin an teepeed the Zenin estate with the help of Megumi an Tsumiki one night on the way back from the park

Nearly died, but hey... It was worth it.

"Why did you do that? You co-" "Fuck the Zenin Clan, they bitches"

🥲 had to quickly wipe a tear from his eye

"But also fuck you, cuz you ate the last of my cake"

He would *try* to understand an watch anime with you

Even started to read manga

"I wish I could get hit with Oikawa serve"

"Ugh.. what?" "Damn, if only Levi could yell at ME like that." "What the fuck."

Toji would be the type to slowly warm up to you, an bring you little souvenirs from some of his missions across Japan or even abroad

"It's a keychain" "I found it.." proceeds to hand you a *stolen* shirt saying "I love Kyoto" gives you a fucking Oikawa cut out

Toji the type of step dad that would help (or try) with school work, but then suggest to just threaten the teacher

"You have parent teacher conference? I'll go."

Imagine the teacher face seeing this beef (terrifying) cake walk in behind you

After that your mom banned him from going to teacher conferences

She also told you both not to go grocery shopping together anymore either

Ya... May have came back with more food an cops on your heels..

Towards the end of his life, you both became to pees in a pod.

He let you do his hair one time, pigtails all around. May have put some pink an blue dye in his hair.

100% would call you into school if ya were sick (or not)

If you were sick, he would try his best at making you some food. He was taking notes from the times the other two had been sick

I feel like if you (or the other kids) got hurt, too the point he had to take you to the hospital..he would panic

"Oh my god.. OMG WHAT DO I DO?"

Fucking sweet Tsumiki "they need to go too the hospital, their fever is 103"

You two were a force to be reckon with, both verbally an physically

Saw someone getting picked on? Both right there verbally telling them off.

Noticed a kitten or puppy getting abused? Toji had to hold you back from killing the people.

The night before he goes out (when he dies the next day), you tell him to be careful

"Don't die.. I have a weird feeling about this one"

Pats your head, an starts to tease you about warning about him. Of course you tell him it's not like that, but deep down you both know something will go down the next day

When you get word that he was dead, an that he arranged for Megumi to be sold to the Zenin Clan. All hell broke lose, your mom was gone, an you were taking the kids an were on the run for a few months

Till that weird albino rat showed up one day

"Here, I'll take you all in, but you.. have to say I'm handsome"

You fucking took Megumi an Tsumiki an walked away

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #drabble jjk #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu toji #toji imagine #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x you #toji x reader #step dad toji #toji fushiguro #toji headcanons #toji zenin

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

Text

I feel like I should be posting more original content. I’ve been here for so long, posting original content analyzing every detail of this show, and posting literally millions of words on the subject, and the show has gone and done exactly the thing I’ve been writing about, confirmed in text that the story I’ve been watching in the subtext is really the story they were telling all along.

And I could be posting gleefully about the beauty of the most intense metanarrative, the absolute bananapants layers of meta in any piece of media I’ve ever consumed in my 46 years. From the self-referential and universe-bending plotlines to just how deeply embedded ALL of this has become as the central core narrative of the final season, as the characters grapple with what is even real when they’ve been characters in a story beyond their control or understanding for so long only to come so close to earning their freedom and “becoming real” by using their OWN words and declaring for themselves their truth and their happiness and their love.

It’s... mind boggling that everything I’ve ever written about this show is coming back around in a final grand swoop of the narrative arcs that I honestly don’t know what else I can do aside from waving one hand at canon and inviting everyone to just read the entirety of this stupid blog while looking smugly satisfied with myself.

It’s about love. The whole story is, was, and always will be about love. And not just destiel, but the whole damn show. The character of Dean Winchester, for all the jokes about being emotionally constipated, is essentially the embodiment of selfless love and has been since the start of the show. But because of the story itself, he had to become hardened to it, to accept that it wasn’t something he could have for himself if he lived the life he did. And yet he never let that destroy him, despite now understanding that that’s exactly what Chuck spent the last 15 years (and really the entirety of Dean’s life) attempting to do-- to break him for the sake of the story.

Cas’s confession in 15.18 wasn’t just about how Cas loves Dean, but why. Cas, the only version of Castiel in any of Chuck’s infinite universes who broke free of Heaven’s command, did so because of the love he saw in this selfless but self-hating man. Years of crack posts about Dean breaking angels cannot even begin to touch how deep this goes.

One line in Cas’s monologue about Dean thinking of himself as “daddy’s blunt instrument” was a line from season THREE, before Cas ever even MET Dean Winchester and began to know him. It was a phrase that had never been spoken aloud in reality. It happened literally inside Dean’s dream, where he knew he was doomed to go to hell and was confronted by the demon version of himself. Dean said this line TO HIMSELF, IN A DREAM, TWELVE SEASONS AGO. And then yelled down that demon-dream version of himself with this:

DREAM DEAN: Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care whether you lived or died. Why should you?

DEAN: Son of a bitch!

DEAN pushes DREAM DEAN hard, knocking him into the wall above the desk.

DEAN: (screaming angrily) My father was an obsessed bastard!

DREAM DEAN tries to get up and DEAN kicks him down on the desk again. DEAN holds the weapon as a bat and hits DREAM DEAN once and then pins him to the wall with it.

DEAN: All that crap he dumped on me, about protecting Sam! That was his crap. He's the one who couldn't protect his family. He-

DEAN steps back and swings the weapon again, hitting DREAM DEAN twice.

DEAN: He's the one who let Mom die. who wasn't there for Sam. I always was! He wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me. And I don't deserve to go to Hell!

DEAN shoots DREAM DEAN twice in the chest. As he lowers the weapon and looking at DREAM DEAN, we see the latter is dead. Blood is splattered on DREAM DEAN's face and his eyes are closed.

And then after that, spoiler alert, he went to hell and Cas pulled him out.

Dean: Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell? Castiel: Good things do happen, Dean. Dean: Not in my experience. Castiel: What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?

It took him YEARS to truly get past this. He didn’t really get to confront his own father until season 14, in a sort of “It’s A Wonderful Life” sort of episode where he could see what his life might’ve been like if things had turned out differently. And oh, Cas isn’t in his life. But he gets to confront John with his own self-acceptance, his own confidence in the life he’s made for himself and the people (including Cas) who have become his family. He gets to hear from John that he never wanted that life for Dean, and Dean gets to say, well I would choose this life anyway.

Until Chuck’s revelation pulled that rug out from under him. Dean had been-- if not deliriously happy, at least content with his life. Because it was HIS. And then he found out it wasn’t, that Chuck had always been writing the broad strokes of his life, had always been the one throwing catastrophe after apocalypse after cosmic crisis directly in his path because he wanted to watch Dean struggle to save the world yet again, and finally give him the ending to the story that Chuck wanted-- a broken and devastated Dean who’d sacrificed everything for the story yet again. And suddenly NOTHING about anything made sense to Dean anymore, and even Cas showing up in his life and then weirdly sticking around all these years was suspect to him. He trusted nothing, not his choices or his feelings or his own happiness.

But now? We know (and Dean knows) that Cas was one thing Chuck just couldn’t control. That he was never supposed to think for himself and rebel and fall in love with Dean. And Dean knows that too. He knows all of it. And ALL of that just went wooshing through Dean’s central processing unit in the span of two minutes and came up error messages, because it was too late now and Cas was gone again, and there might not be any getting him back this time.

So unless Dabb era has been entirely about destroying everything that was ever good about this show, and about their own storytelling, and the metanarrative and the subtext and the character arcs, making Dean and Cas’s relationship the main emotional arc of the entire season demands that Dean get a chance to answer to this.

If love is truly the ultimate weapon of their salvation, as the show has been screaming since s11, then Dean gets to keep Cas. Because anything less is failure at this point.

I’m sorry I haven’t been replying to many people in my inbox, but honestly I’m too tired to deal with anxiety over how the story will end. I only care about the story, and I’ve written more about it in the last howeverlong I’ve been at this than I can possibly reiterate before the next episode airs. All I can do is point and gawp at the fact that the story is what I have always thought it was, and be content.

Revenge of the Subtext, indeed.

#spn 15.18 #destiel #the scheherazade of supernatural #revenge of the subtext #it's spirals all the way down #order vs chaos and darkness vs light #using your words #grand unification via love theory #there's probably 3000 posts across those tags and more in other tags linked to those if you wanna know how i feel about this show #i feel like i've written everything bar the shouting at the end at this point #lol including Revenge of the Subtext aka my first dcbb fic back in 2015 so like... *eternal shrug emojis*#i don't know what else to say at this point other than you either read anything i've written in the last 8 years or so or like...#nothing i say now is really gonna help i guess #lol i even wrote about how chuck was controlling the story way back in s11 so like...#i think i was one of the few holdouts in s11 who was convinced that amara didn't need to be killed but reunited with chuck #from like two days after 10.23 aired and before we knew she was amara or that chuck would ever come back #or that he was god lol... i was calling them darkness and light or creation and destruction #i wrote a lot of wackadoo sounding shit because we had no context to define them yet but ALL of it held up all season #and then dabb era ushered in the age of the metanarrative where the story unfolded on at least six levels simultaneously #and i get that's not every casual fan's cup of tea but for someone invested in the characters it ws GLORIOUS #they laid this whole trail of subtext and meta breadcrumbs all the way up to this point circling around a huge pole holding up the entire #story... and the center of it all is LOVE and it's an angel's love of a single human that the show has been pointing at forever #you draped yourself in the flag of heaven but really you did it all to save one human... hello season 9!#and a broken human's love of an angel he feared he could never deserve... and that's the love that can defeat every cosmic power out there #that's what we have left to watch in the final two episodes and i honestly don't know what else to say #love wins

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

I literally JUST sat down, pt.2

Part One, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: The case stalls, but no one’s willing to give up on you just yet. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi.

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

(Again! Massive shoutout to @pirateismywayofspeaking for the constant support and ideas! And lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist!)

—————————-

It’s a well known fact that there are three certainties in life; death, taxes and the willpower of one Penelope Garcia. In less than an hour she had somehow organized to get all your clothes and personal possessions delivered right to the BAU, packed in your favorite suitcases and all. A couple of things had to be kept in evidence because the UnSub might have come into contact with them, but all the important stuff was there. It was comforting, having your stuff safe with you and, as you sat through the long and rigorous process of being interviewed, you felt better.

“And you’re 100% sure that none of your employees could have possibly done this?” Rossi asked, “Maybe someone you recently fired? Or someone who has a history of violence?”

You gave him an incredulous look, “Rossi, come on. Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to hire someone with a violent past?”

“You checked everyone out?”

“Full background checks on all three employees,” you agreed, “the harshest thing on any of their records was a parking ticket and a decade old charge for underage drinking.”

Hotch sighed, rubbing his temples right where you knew he got headaches.

“We know the poem is significant to the UnSub. It’s an old love poem, so it’s got to be someone who has some sort of connection to you,” he repeated, “it's personal.”

You shook your head, “Hotch, I don’t know what to tell you. I haven’t had a romantic relationship in years. There’s not a lot of time when you work 14 hour days.”

“Don’t we know it,” Rossi agreed, “so, a stalker, maybe?”

“That’s a hell of a way to make first contact,” you scoffed, “a phone call would be less risky.”

“And less effective.”

You conceded the point with a head tilt, and then looked back at Hotch, “Hotch, can we take a break? We’ve been at this for hours.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “get some rest, Y/L/N.”

“No, it’s okay, there’s work to be done here. I can stay,” you assured, stretching your stiff limbs.

Hotch shot you a look, but said nothing, obviously sensing that you weren’t going to give in without some sort of fight. Instead, he just gave you a terse nod, and walked out, leaving you with Rossi.

“You’re impossible, you know that, right?” He said.

You smiled, shrugging, “What can I say, Ros? I learned from the best.”

He chuckled, shaking his head and ruffling your hair as he walked past you, “Good to have you back, kid.”

The bullpen was busy when you walked back in, suitcases in hand, striding your way over to your old desk. It’s scary how little had really changed in the year since you’d been gone. Aside from Spencer’s semi-annual hair evolution, everything was the same; the smells, the sights, even the comforting clack of Garcia’s heels against the floor. It was comforting, almost painfully so but, as you reached your old desk, you noticed something was wrong.

“Whose stuff is this?” You asked, gesturing to the stacks of files and piles of paper scattered all over the surface.

“Mine,” Emily said, not even looking up from her work.

“But...you have a desk,” you pointed out.

“And now I have two,” she replied simply, “you can sit somewhere else.”

She was being stubborn and you felt a lick of irritation flare up inside your chest. Emily Prentiss had been one of your closest friends for years and, when you’d left the BAU, she’d taken it the hardest. Any other time, you would have understood her resentment but, given the circumstances, you weren’t feeling particularly generous.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “And where do you suggest I sit?”

Emily shrugged and gave you a sickly sweet smile, “You can share with Reid.”

You felt yourself flush with heat. Emily had known about your feelings for Spencer, she’d even encouraged you to act on them. You knew she’d never actually betray your trust, but even that subtle dig was enough to make you want to argue. You opened your mouth but, before you could say anything, Spencer interrupted.

“Here, Y/N,” he smiled, patting a spot beside him, “I’ve got space.”

You pressed your lips together, but relented when he took the time to pull an empty chair over for you to sit in.

“Thanks, Reid,” you said, taking the offered seat.

“So, did you and Hotch figure anything out?” Spencer asked.

You shook your head, “Nothing we didn’t already know. Rossi thinks it might be some kind of stalker?” You offered.

Spencer frowned, “A stalker? That doesn’t make any sense, what kind of stalker starts off their pursuit with a murder?”

“A very, very desperate one.” Emily offered.

You wanted to snap something like; ‘oh, so now you’re talking to me?’ but you bit your tongue. You knew you were on edge, and now wasn’t the time to lash out at the only people who could really help you.

“Or very deranged.” Spencer suggested

You shuddered, picturing a faceless man in all black running his blood soaked hands across your walls, drawing a jagged smiley face above your bed, memorizing the faces in your pictures. You exhaled and pushed the thought away.

“Does this even count as an escalation?” You asked, “I’m not sure there’s really anywhere to go from here.”

You were met with stony silence as Emily and Spencer inspected their respective files. You knew what they were thinking, what everyone was thinking; whatever this was, it was bad news.

“Do we know who our victim is, yet?” Spencer asked.

“Nope,” you sighed, “the UnSub burned off his fingerprints and removed several of his molars before he dumped the body, the ME is doing her best to get a DNA match, but it’ll take time.”

“The mutilation is odd, considering there wasn’t any evidence of torture on the victim before they died,” Spencer said.

“It’s gotta be a forensic countermeasure,” Emily agreed, “but it’s extremely sophisticated. Our UnSub must have experience with law enforcement.”

“But as a perp or a cop?”

You sighed and buried your head in your hands, letting the familiar back and forth wash over you like white noise. You’d had this conversation before, many many times, and it never got any easier. Usually you lived for the puzzle but, now that you were the one under scrutiny, it felt like your brain was rebelling against you.

“Y/N/N?” Spencer asked, touching your shoulder gently and snapping back to reality.

“Mm?” You replied.

His face softened as he took in the exhaustion radiating off your body.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, “Just a little drained, that’s all.”

The clicking of heels against the floor drew your attention and you looked up just in time to see Garcia swooping in with her purse.

“You ready to go, crime fighter?” She smiled.

“Go where?” You asked,

“Home!” She smiled, “I have the honor and privilege of hosting you tonight.”

“Garcia-“ you started.

“No! No arguing.” She insisted, “I’ve already found us a lovely little Thai place for dinner, and there’s a bunch of episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer lined up on my DVR.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes fondly, “I hate how well you know me.”

She smiled devilishly, “Sounds good, right?”

“It sounds incredible and you know that because you’re a super genius who knows literally everything.” You teased, pushing yourself onto your feet, “Okay, Wonder Woman, let’s go.”

As you made your way out of the office, you cast one last look over your shoulder, smiling when Spencer met your eye and gave you a small wave.

————————-

“Okay, Sugar Plum, spill,” Penelope pushed, handing you a full glass of wine, “how’re you really doing?”

“With what?”

Penelope shot you an incredulous look, “With, you know, all of it. The murder, the mystery, being back at work, the Spencer Reid of it all.”

You spluttered through a sip of wine, “The what? ‘Nel, you can’t be serious.”

“What? I’m just asking,” she insisted, “he followed you out earlier, you’re sharing a desk now...it wouldn’t be crazy if maybe your old crush came creeping back in.”

“Penelope” you started, “some creep dropped a dead body in my bookstore and broke into my apartment and you think I’m thinking about Spencer?” She didn’t answer, just raising her eyebrows and you sighed, sliding down the couch, “Okay so I’m pathetic.”

“No you’re not!” She insisted, “You guys were like two peas in a pod, back in the day. Plus, you’ve seen like a thousand dead bodies, you’re probably just desensitized.”

“Still,” you sulked, “I can’t believe I’m still thinking about Spence.”

“Naaaaaaaaw,” she swooned, squeezing your knee, “you called him ‘Spence’, you haven’t done that in ages.”

“Fuck off, Nel” you said without any real malice, burying your face in your hands and sighing again, “please tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

Garcia smiled, a knowing glint in her dark blue eyes as she sipped her wine and watched you squirm. She’d kept in touch with you when you left the BAU, insisting on weekly brunch meetups and girls nights and a million other things that you’re not sure you would’ve survived without. She’d been like a lifeline in those first few months and, because of that, she was the only one who really knew how hard leaving had been for you. She’d been the one who sat through the hours of crying and panicking and wondering who you were without your job, who’d held your hand when you went to get a small business loan, who’d sampled your cookie recipes and helped you design uniforms. Penelope Garcia had been there for all of it. You had a photo of the two of you together at the bookstore next to your bed. It was one of your most treasured possessions.

“Now, Sugar Plum, you know I’ve always had a soft spot for you and the Boy Wonder. He’s lovely, you’re lovely; he loves you, you love him, I love you both, it’s a match made in FBI heaven as far as I’m concerned-“

“But?” You prompted with a rueful smile.

“But,” Penelope agreed, “he took it really hard when you left, and I’m not sure how he’ll handle losing you a second time.”

You frowned, “He never lost me. None of you lost me, I just got a different job! It’s not my fault that basically no one bothered to keep in touch.”

Penelope’s face softened and she smiled at you sympathetically, “Pumpkin, you know it’s not like that. When you’re in the BAU, it’s like we’re living in our own little crime bubble, everything outside just kind of….fades, you know?”

“I know…”

“And with Spencer, well, you know he’s never been the best at dealing with abandonment, the poor thing’s been through so much already,” Penelope continued, “he tried to keep in touch. He really did, and he talked about you all the time.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She sighed, “I don’t know. I guess I just-“ she shrugged and squeezed your knee again, “I don’t want you to think that he forgot about you, that’s all.”

You felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips, and you gripped Garcia’s hand.

“Thanks, Nel.”

You knew she was right. Life in the BAU wasn’t like life on the outside; you lived by different rules, took different risks, valued different things. It was strange and intoxicating and you really couldn’t fault your teammates for continuing to play the game the way they always had. You’d chosen to leave and you had to live with the consequences of that.

“Can we talk about something besides boys now, please?” You asked, “I want this girl’s night to pass the bechdel test.”

She smiled and clapped her perfectly manicured hands, “Oh do not fret, ma Cherie because I’ve got so much to catch you up on-“

You listened with rapt attention as Garcia filled you in on the last twelve months of FBI gossip. You laughed together, ate Thai food and just relaxed together. With every Perfectly Penelope story, you felt a little more of your tension slip away and, by the time you made it to bed, you were feeling almost normal.

Penelope had made up the couch for you, complete with pillows and blankets and a homemade quilt. It was comfortable, too comfortable. So comfortable, that your brain had way too much time to mull over what Penelope had said earlier.

Spencer hadn’t just forgotten about you. What did that mean? He’d taken it hard when you left...the questions bounced around your mind like wasps, keeping you awake. Without meaning to, your mind started to drift, sifting through the years worth of memories you’d kept locked away in a box in the back of your mind.

————————

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met,” you laughed, “I’m fine, Spence.”

“You’re not fine, Y/N, you got shot.” Spencer reminded you, his eyes still sparkling with the relief of seeing you alive and in good spirits.

You were sitting in the back of an ambulance, a throbbing pain resonating from the wound in your shoulder as the police searched through the nearby crime scene and Spencer inspected your face. It was cold and dark, but the sirens and flashing lights meant that it was anything but peaceful, and you knew it would still be many hours before either you or Spencer got any sleep.

“Yeah well, we’ve all been shot,” you pointed out, “and, statistically speaking, we have a 100% survival rate.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but he was smiling so you knew he wasn’t too mad.

“You’re bastardizing my beautiful statistical analysis and using it for evil. Remind me why I’m bothering to check on you, again?” He teased.

“Because you loooooove me,” you teased back, jostling his shoulder with yours, “and because I just took a bullet to the shoulder for you.”

He chuckled but avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes, “Yeah that would explain it.”

Something in the atmosphere changed and you looked over at Spencer, noticing the way he worried at the inside of his cheek with his hands in his pockets. His brow was furrowed too, like he was sad, and something in your chest pinched.

“You alright there, doc?” You asked.

“Don’t do it again,” he said, looking up and catching your eye.

You paused, “don’t do what?”

“Take a bullet to the shoulder for me,” he explained, “get hurt trying to protect me. Promise me you won’t do it again?”

You pressed your lips together, recognizing the same feeling of fear and guilt in Spencer that you, yourself, felt any time someone you cared about was in danger. You reached out, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. Spencer held on for a second longer, his dark eyes filling with something as he took you in.

“You know I can’t promise that, Spence,” you said gently, “if we’re ever in a situation like this again….no way I’m just letting you die to avoid a couple of stitches.”

“No, you don’t-” he paused, getting himself worked up, “you don’t get it. I watched my girlfriend get shot right in front of me, I-I’ve lost so many people that I care about, Y/N, and I can’t lose anyone else. Not for something as stupid as my own life.”

“Your life isn’t some insignificant thing, Spence,” you insisted, “it’s important! To me, to the team, to everyone. We’re a family, Spencer, families have each other’s backs. Always.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, carding his fingers through his hair like he was agitated.

“Just-” he started again, “just promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I can’t.” you insisted, “I can’t make that promise.

He turned to face you, looking more tired than you’d seen him in weeks, “Then promise you’ll be careful. Promise me I won’t lose you too?”

Your heart ached, and you longed to reach out and wrap him up in your arms, but you restrained yourself.

“How about this; I’ll promise that you won’t lose me, if you promise that we’ll always be best friends, and that you’ll try to start valuing your own life as much as you value mine or Morgan’s, deal?” You offered, extending your hand for Spencer to shake.

Spencer frowned, opening his mouth to argue but, before he could, an agent interrupted.

“Agent Y/L/N? Dr. Reid? Agent Hotchner is looking for you.”

———————————-

You snapped back to reality with a jolt, and realised you were lonely. So much time had passed since that night, but you remembered it all perfectly, every detail. It wasn’t an especially meaningful night, there were a million moments just like it, but something about it had stuck. Maybe it was the potential, the wondering, that thing that he never got to say. You wish you’d gotten to hear it now.

You fumbled around in the dark for your cellphone, typing out a message and pressing send before you could think better of it. It was short, and to the point, and you would be shocked if he responded but, once it was done, you felt something in your chest loosen, like maybe you’d been wanting to send that message for a really long time.

To Spencer Reid: Hey, Reid? I’m sorry I left, I never meant to break my promise.

With the heavy weight of remembering suddenly lifted, you realised how tired you were, and you let sleep drag you under. If you’d stayed awake a little longer, you might not have missed the way Spencer kept typing, typing, typing away some message he never sent. Or the eventual response, which only came in three hours later:

You never broke your promise, Y/N. I broke mine.

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

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes, @confused-and-really-hungry, @word-scribbless, @reidloversisforever, @ashookykooky, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @shilohpug, @tangerinenotions95, @petitchatonbleu

#jordsie #jordsie writes #cm #cm imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanons #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x you #matthew gray gubler #Penelope garcia #penelope garcia imagine

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ayuuria · 3 years

Text

Yashahime Translation (Partial): Pash! Plus Interview 1/23/21

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

For more information regarding the use of my translations, click here.

This is another interview with the 3 voice actresses and many of the questions they asked have already been answered in previous articles which I’ve translated. Hence, I have only translated portions that are unique to this article.

“Hanyō no Yashahime” Interview with Matsumoto Sara, Komatsu Mikako, and Tadokoro Azusa! What “future development” are the three of them anticipating? “I want to see parent-child exchanges!”

— With every episode, various mysteries are gradually becoming clear, but is there anything that particularly surprised you?

All: This is difficult (to answer)! We’re surprised every time!

Tadokoro: For me, it was when Sesshōmaru-sama left without saying anything despite hearing Zero tell Homura “Burn that forest to the ground” in episode 15. I became uneasy thinking “It can’t be. Does he not love his children...?”.

Matsumoto: You would think that if you looked just at that part.

Tadokoro: I was also surprised by the story following that.

Matsumoto: The part where Inuyasha and Kagome were put inside the black pearl right? That part moved me like “Father…”. No, probably more like “understood” rather than moved. Like “Sesshōmaru-sama wouldn’t do something like that without thinking”

Komatsu: Sesshōmaru just doesn’t say important things after all.

Matsumoto: I’ve learned that he’s simply not good at talking.

Komatsu: What surprised me the most is something that actually happens later on. It’s a spoiler so I can’t say anything but… Riku’s identity is… *mumbles*

Matsumoto: We also just happened to overhear it (laughs)

Komatsu: It’s a topic we actually weren’t supposed to hear about (laughs) We truly aren’t told what’s going to happen until we get the script.

Matsumoto: Regarding the subject of Riku, we were surprised like “So that’s how it was!?” when we happened to overhear a keyword, so I think the viewers will be quite surprised as well. Look forward to it (laughs)!

Komatsu: It’s hinted at a little bit when Riku makes his initial debut…

Matsumoto: I think those who are perceptive would think “Huh?”

Komatsu: Then there’s the scene that I also said left an impression on me which is what Miroku-sama had been up to until now.

Matsumoto: Me too! I was also surprised that he properly aged.

Tadokoro: He aged well didn’t he (laughs). He was so awesome! I was curious as to what he was doing after the wind tunnel disappeared.

Matsumoto: I knew Miroku and Sango had kids from “Inuyasha” but the child rearing and conversations with them weren’t depicted, so I had wondered about that for a long time. However, seeing the communication with his son moved me like “You’ve become such a good father!” since he is my favorite character as well. That Miroku-sama hadn’t changed even after becoming a father gave me feels.

Tadokoro: Don’t you think the conversation between Kagome-san and Sango-san as fellow mothers was good too? Mom friends talk (laughs). I could keenly feel how Sango was looking out for Kagome-san when she said “Yours is going to be born soon right? Watch your step okay.”. As someone who plays Moroha, episode 16 is a must see!

Komatsu: We never had an episode that greatly featured Moroha’s past until then.

Tadokoro: It’s the episode where you learn why Moroha earns money. She had been asked once before “What are you going to do with all that money?” but she dodged the question.

— There are a lot of episodes that should be checked out (laughs)

Matsumoto: Episodes 14, 15, and 16 are pretty deep after all! (laughs)

Tadokoro: Indeed

Komatsu: They have a lot of information.

— Earlier, Matsumoto-san said, “I like Miroku-sama” so could all of you please tell us your favorite characters?

Tadokoro: My favorites are Kohaku-kun and Sesshōmaru-sama. Kohaku-kun went through something terrible and seeing him living a painful way of life by making himself a sacrifice made me think “I want to make him happy”. There’s also the major fact that I liked Yajima-san’s (Akiko) acting, so the feeling of tragic heroism oozing from his voice aroused a protective urge within me. Now he’s an adult and is firmly continuing the work of demon slaying… I feel proud for some reason (laughs). He’s become such a fine man…

Matsumoto: I love Miroku-sama and Naraku too much! Regarding Naraku, at the beginning, the shock of “There’s this kind of warped love!” was huge. While it started off as something suddenly lighting a fire in his heart for Kikyō, to think that from there things would end up going the way they did… The emotions that budded from a small happening became, more than anything, this big energy to Naraku and caused him to act the way he did. It’s probably strange for me to say, but I “learned” that that’s one form of “love” (laughs). In terms of Miroku-sama, I thought he was purely awesome. He’s the one person within the group whose position is really helpful. Figuratively speaking, the part of him that’s like the vice president and not the president of the student council is what I like. He’s the unsung hero who follows under the person who rampages the most. I also love the gap of how his tongue becomes sharp once you get acquainted with him.

Komatsu: While Kagome influenced me, my favorite was Kagura. She was part of Naraku’s group, but her heart wavered so much that you wondered “Was she really born from Naraku?”. There was something human about her. I think those born from Naraku were born from something Naraku had in the first place, so Kagura probably had the faint “human heart” that was in Naraku. I had a lot of empathy when she became the wind and was freed at the end. I could never forget the scene where she died attended by Sesshōmaru. It was precious in any event… Kagome is who I wanted to be but the one who stole my heart with her way of life was Kagura.

— If you were to apply Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha’s relationship to yourselves, what would happen?

All: It would still be the same (laughs)

Komatsu: It would relatively stay the same. How to put it, roles? For example, for Sara-chan, she’s a mood maker, friendly, and isn’t timid about anything. In a sense, she’s the commanding officer of the raid. I think she’s just like Towa in terms of position. Moroha’s character is very energetic with a lot of vitality and she’s completely inherited Inuyasha and Kagome’s blood. However, she’s the balancer among the Yashahimes. She reads the mood quite a bit and she has a territory where “she won’t proceed any further from here”. For example, when she didn’t talk about why she earns money. I think the part where she doesn’t fully open up at the beginning is similar to Koroazu-chan (Tadokoro’s nickname).

Matsumoto: I know! That’s exactly why you want to get to know her more. Like “Show us more!” (laughs)

— What do Komatsu-san and Setsuna have in common?

Komatsu: Setsuna is a child who can clearly state her opinion on serious matters. She calmly makes judgements and has a solid feeling for not talking when she doesn’t talk and talking when she does talk. I have a feeling I also make judgement calls of “I should stay quiet here.” Setsuna is probably listening to what other people are saying in scenes where it doesn’t look like she is. However, she purposely doesn’t say anything. She has the option of “Not answering”. She’s not silent because she doesn’t want to listen or respond. Rather, I think it’s a time when she’s thinking about various things to herself. I feel that I personally understand that very well.

Matsumoto: I think Setsuna is the “axle” of the three Yashahimes but even among the three of us, there’s a sense of “We need Mikako-san”. When there’s a problem, I look towards Mikako-san’s direction (laughs).

Tadokoro: Mikako-san calmly watches over everyone, so we end up relying on her when there’s a problem. There was a time when the three of us went shopping and I asked, “Am I buying too much?”. Mikako-san responded, “You’re buying too much” and I returned the item to the shelf (laughs). I leave the judgement to her and end up depending on her.

Komatsu: I’m unexpectedly not thinking anything though (laughs)

— What do the three of you think is the appeal of “Hanyō no Yashahime”?

Tadokoro: For those who enjoyed “Inuyasha”, they’re probably wondering how their favorite characters are living their lives. You can find out in “Hanyō no Yashahime” which I think is a big appeal.

Komatsu: In “Inuyasha”, the grudge against Kikyō and the romance with Kagome were components of the story. However, this time, a big component of the story is discovering their births and that’s what I think is appealing.

(translator’s note: There is more to this section, but these are the only sentences that I considered unique to this article)

— Thank you. Well then, please tell us if you have any anticipations for the upcoming development in “Hanyō no Yashahime”?

Matsumoto: I would have to say I want to anticipate both fathers doing something. If they were to come running when the Yashahimes are in a bind, that would make me happy.

Komatsu: I want to see parent-child conversations.

Matsumoto: That makes me nervous….

Tadokoro and Komatsu: Indeed! It does make me nervous!

Komatsu: I’m getting all sorts of wild ideas like what sort of conversation they’ll have or what things will they address.

Matsumoto: How will they address them when they meet face to face? There was an episode where Kagome address’s Moroha as "Moroha” but… If Sesshōmaru addresses me as “Towa”, I might have a nosebleed (laughs).

Tadokoro and Komatsu: (laughs)

Komatsu: Setsuna basically said “I don’t know who Sesshōmaru is!” during their conversation with the Tree of Ages (laughs). Even when she meets her father, she’ll probably say “So you’re Sesshōmaru”. But I want (him) to address her as “Setsuna” (laughs).

All: Basically, we want to see parent-child exchanges (laughs).

— Thank you very much!

#Yashahime #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime: princess half demon #translation

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

Sad hc but Billy teaching Will about what’s going on with AIDS and giving him a really strict talk about it and being careful/cautious about who he gets involved with

Also, Billy helping Will learn to sort of “hide” his queerness in Indiana to keep him safe

oooooh i like this one

so i’ve seen another story or blurb about this (it was either on here or ao3 but i don’t remember who wrote it) but i really liked it and am making my own twist on it

steve and billy have been dating for a few months, now. the kids haven’t given them more than the wave of a hand at the specifics of their relationship, other than the ‘shovel talk’ the boys gave to billy, and the one max gave to steve

other than will. not in a critical way, no, just pure curiosity and wonderment about how they’ve managed to find one another and remain happy together

it’s not until a few weeks after wills initial wondering that things start to piece together, the stupid names his dad would call him, his dependency on mike, the way he never felt to strongly towards girls

will is gay.

how could he not have realized, all the clues were right there! maybe he was ignoring that part of him from the awful things that have been ingrained into his mind at an early age

but if steve and billy are met with love and kindness from their friends, then will should be too, right?

but with acceptance came one crucial point: telling people. will was not ready for everyone to know

so he went to an expert

steve had been brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed when he heard the doorbell ring. rushing downstairs, toothbrush still in his mouth, he quickly unlocked the door and opened it to reveal... a sweaty will byers

“uhh... kid it’s late and i—“

“i’m gay.” will cut steve off

steve’s jaw dropped and, as a result, his toothbrush went clattering to the ground

“that’s great! i mean, it’s not great— wait it’s good that you are— shit i’m no good at this? i’m sorry. billy is much better at dealing with these kind of situations,”

and steve left will standing in the open doorway as he ran upstairs, after bending down to pick up his toothbrush

will, shocked to his core, just stood, waiting in the open door

but how was he to know that the most surprising thing to happen that night was billy, groggily and probably just asleep, coming down the stairs quietly scolding steve (who was pattering next to him)

billy took one look at will, still bundled in coats standing outside the door, and gave a look to steve

“go make hot chocolate, we’re gonna be here a while,”

steve walked off to the kitchen and billy invited wills in, closing and locking the door and sitting down on the couch with will

“so... you’re gay?”

“uhhh... yeah”

“alright so what’s the story?”

“i’m sorry?”

“what made you realize you were gay, or who?”

will felt the blush creep up his neck and felt like dying in that moment. seeing the boy floundering, billy began speaking,

“when i was in california, there was this boy when i was 13, his name was jackson, and he was one of the coolest people i’d ever known. he skated, much better than max does, and he had this long, black hair and wore these cool, painted jean jackets, even when it was super hot outside

“he had really dark brown eyes and wore this cool, feather earring. he had the prettiest smile and we had been friends for years before that, but one day, we were sitting on the beach, and the sun looked so pretty shining down on his face, and i realized i liked him, a lot,”

will didn’t think that billy realized he was smiling as he reminisced. he doesn’t think billy knows that steve is peaking out of the kitchen listening either

“did you date?” will asked innocently, seeing the way the light in billy’s eyes started to dim at the question

“not, not really. my dad, he wasn’t a fan of our kind, if you know what i mean. we kind-of started dating at 14, snuck around for two years. we would go on dates, but would usually go in a group of friends so it wasn’t too obvious. we would kiss, sometimes, but we never were really ‘together’

“it’s the reason we moved here, ya know?” wills interest was peaked, “my dad caught us kissing and that, of course, wasn’t ok, so he moved us out to the most conservative place he could find, far away from california, and i haven’t talked to jackson since. but i found something better, i was lucky and i—for whatever reason—got steve,”

will figured that steve disappearing back into the kitchen was a result of the tears that were coming out of his eyes.

“so what’s your story, kid?”

“i think, i might like mike. but i didn’t realize i was even... gay until you and steve came out and were happy how you were,”

“ok, so why didn’t you tell your mom, or jon?”

“you guys understand. they would support me so much, but they just wouldn’t get how hard it is to feel, to feel this way! because, i don’t know everyone says we’re going to hell or are awful and i don’t wanna be hated because i like guys!”

wills eyes were all teary after his confession, and billy gave him a comforting side hug (will realized max wasn’t lying when she said that billy gave the best hugs) and steve came out with three hot chocolates

billy was still shushing him in his ear, whispering ‘i get it, i understand, you are still you, doesn’t matter who you like,’ and will swears he has never felt more comforted by anyone other than his mother before

will stopped crying a few minutes after, taking a cup of hot cocoa and sipping on it in peaceful silence

steve was more than half asleep on the opposite end of the couch, but billy was wide awake next to will, despite how tired he was earlier

“how much do you know... about, gay things?” billy cringed at the way he phrased it, but assumed joyce and jon weren’t exactly the best people to explain the situation to will

“what’d you mean?”

“like... aids?” billy set his mug down and leaned foreword, resting his hands on his knees, “you know anything about that?”

“i... have seen some things. not a lot, but i know of it,”

“well, i want you to be safe. this isn’t some thing you should be joking about at school or anything. it’s serious, like really fucking serious. i knew a guy, he owned a diner in cali, and he got it from... a partner... and he died. you understand that this is serious?”

will nodded his head quickly, billy continued

“you don’t sleep with just anyone, ok? you don’t seem like a person who would, but just be careful, always use condoms, always be careful. don’t do drugs, at all, because i’m not dealing with you if you become a heroin addict, ok?”

will nodded, but there was something in billy’s voice that told him that id he did get addicted to heroin, billy would try his hardest to take care of him.

“if you sleep with someone and you just want to be sure, get tested. its better safe than sorry, alright?”

“alright,” will nodded again. “what about you and steve?”

“we both got tested and we aren’t sleeping around with other people, we’ll be fine, kid,”

“ok, good,”

“no need to worry about us, ok?”

“i worry about all of my friends,”

“kid, i really want you to be safe, alright? and you know you shouldn’t really blab about this to the town, me and steve haven’t even told our parents, your little group are the only ones who know,”

“they already call me a f—“

“i don’t give a shit and don’t you dare call yourself that! you’re better than whatever shit they wanna call you. you’ve got a great future and you’re not gonna get it if some hick in this town kills you because you like dick, alright?

“i want you safe, and if anyone gives you trouble or you have questions, you can come to me or steve, any time, any day.”

billy’s eyes were intense and will felt small under them, but also felt safe and loved as an entire person, as who he truly is and who he wants to be.

steve was still snoring lightly at the end of the couch, making billy chuckle a little

“well, if it’s past 10:30, steve’s not gonna be awake, he’s an old man on the inside,”

will laughed at the comment and steve choked on a snore as he woke himself up, wild eyes looking around, catching a bashful will, who was still laughing

“wha—“

“go back to sleep, princess,” billy chuckled and steve nodded, laying his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes

“can i sleep over? my mom thinks i’m at mikes, and probably wouldn’t like me biking this late,”

“course kid, this house has like six extra bedrooms, we’re lucky steve’s all rich ‘n shit,” billy wiggled his eyebrows and led will to a guest bedroom and made sure he was settled in before going to pick up steve and carry him to bed

will figured he’d still have to tell his mom and friends, but he felt safe here with billy and steve, so he guessed things wouldn’t be so bad.

#stranger things #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #will byers #mw harringrove #mediocre—writing #will and bill(y)#billy x steve #steve x billy

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kittybellestark · 3 years

Text

Falling Apart At The Seams

Hey so this is the bio dad Tony fic I was working on !!

Thank you so much to @peter-is-a-bean @superherotiger @thedumbestavenger @marvelous-1015 and @himaboroshi736 for helping me pick out a title !! I really appreciate the help and all the different opinions !

Summary: Tony was Iron Man and yet he was weak. He should have been able to pull it together, to find his child and raise them. It should have been easy, to be a good father. Yet he can’t bring himself to look for them, he doesn’t even know the sex. It was all his fault. He should have been stronger, better.

TW: PTSD, mention of Rape, Rape/Non-Con elements (no actual described rape), self victim shaming, alcohol, drugings

Read on AO3 Part 1/5

Tony had been kidnapped many times in his life.

It was old hat. Get kidnapped, sit and wait, find out the motive, what the ransom may be. Sit and wait some more. Eventually get released or found. Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Of course there were a few kidnappings where Tony was underestimated just enough that he was able to sneak away, but that didn’t happen too often. Lucky for him, he was small enough to get out of tight situations, and smart enough to trick his captors.

But then it happened.

Mid 2000. He was at some party. Happy and Rhodey were there too. Tony had a little too much to drink and found an opportunity to leave with this girl, Mary, without his friends noticing. She was beautiful and smart, quick-witted and fun. Her eyes were a striking blue and hair golden brown.

Tony shouldn’t have left with her.

When he had woken up next, in bed, naked, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Sure, he couldn’t remember anything that transpired after he left the party and Mary had given him a drink, but that’s normal, really. Tony didn’t enjoy waking up with no memories but he did it to himself.

What surprised him though, was that he was tied down to the bed. And Mary wasn’t actually a nice person, at all. She had wanted a child, and had found out her husband was infertile. Apparently he was not aware that he couldn’t have kids, but Mary felt that Tony looked close enough to him.

It was January of 2001 when Tony was finally released. Mary was confident enough that she wouldn’t lose the child and that keeping Tony around was a waste of time. So after months of being chained down Tony was finally free.

Tony was far too skinny, and he couldn’t help shaking, not unlike a chihuahua. He tried stepping back into his roll of CEO and pretending everything was normal and fine. He had built this sort of a reputation for himself hadn’t he?

The world was more than aware that he was taken, that he wasn’t being held for ransom. It didn’t stop the rumours that he was on a bender, or in rehab though. Obie had stepped in as acting CEO and the world went on without him. But it’s not like he could really tell anyone what happened. He was a man, no one would believe it. He was Tony Stark, playboy extraordinaire, everyone would say he was asking for it.

And now there was a child in the mix. A child he didn’t want. A child he had no choice to help create. He couldn’t be responsible for that. Not when every time he thought about it he’d had such horrible panic attacks that Rhodey had thought he was having a heart attack. They were so bad he’d completely dissociate, or vomit, or pass out. Tony couldn’t deal with a child, he never wanted one, and certainly not one that he was forced to help create.

There was no reality where Tony could tell people what happened to him. Nothing that he could really do. Mary never came asking for child support, or wanting another child. So Tony was grateful. He hoped that the child was well taken care of. That it didn’t inherit it’s mother’s crazy, and that the father was a good person. Tony didn’t feel good about leaving the child in Mary’s care, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It was too much for him.

As years went on Tony learned not to flinch at a persons touch. Of course when Afghanistan happened and all the progress he made in the years of his freedom vanished. He hated being touched, he hated being handed things. Parties were not a place he wanted to be and being left alone in a room with only one other person was enough to send it spiraling.

Tony lived with the overwhelming guilt of knowing he abandoned his child. He would try to talk himself up, search up Mary, find the kid and take it. But as soon as he was in front of the computer, with the search bar open and keyboard cursor blinking, his brain would take him right back. Back to the bed he was chained to and the woman with wild eyes overtop of him, laughing while he sobbed.

He wanted to care about the kid. Wanted to want the kid, but there was nothing. While Tony knows it deep in his heart Mary should not be a mother, he knows that he could never, ever be a father. There was a child out there, that he knew about and Tony was terrified of them, of knowing who they are, of looking at them and seeing Mary. Tony wouldn’t be a good father, not when he can’t even think about his kid.

As Tony had to teach himself how to cope with things again, trying to be normal, he found himself in a relationship with Pepper. Holding hands and kisses and hugs were mostly okay. Pepper was more than happy for the relationship to move as slow as it had been. She was really expecting things to be more rushed from the get-go. Tony was taking baby-steps. He couldn’t overwhelm himself, not with Pepper.

Sometime after Ultron- after Tony nearly ruined the world- did he actually confide in Pepper. He didn’t plan to tell her anything. Tony didn’t ever have plans on saying a single word to anyone. He wouldn’t have said anything, if it wasn’t for some viral video of Spider-Man holding a little girl and telling her about how his babysitter had raped him too. Hearing Spider-Man say those words Tony knew he needed to tell Pepper.

Pepper cried. A lot. So did Tony. They were in their living room, sitting on the couch, a blanket over Pepper’s lap and an box of tissues in-between them as they sat face to face. Tony told her everything; the party, the alcohol, the way Mary smelled, being tied to the bed, hating himself more because of those months, being kept there even after there was a positive pregnancy test, how there was a child out there Tony could never face. Pepper cried as she held Tony, fingers curled in his hair reassuring him none of it was ever his fault. He never wanted to be taken, to be raped, and to have a child. She didn’t blame him for not wanting the kid, for not being able to think about them without spiraling completely. She told him he wasn’t selfish for trying to protect himself.

After that Spider-Man became Tony’s new obsession. Tony built him a better suit and watched video after video. Eventually he was able to find out Spider-Man’s identity and helped cover all of Spider-Man’s traps.

What surprised Tony the most was that Spider-Man was a kid. His name was Peter Parker, he was 14 years old and top of his class at Midtown. He lived with his aunt, May Parker. His uncle, Ben, was murdered in front of him, and his parents, Diane and Jacob Parker died in a plane crash when he was 6. Previous to 2007 there were no files on any of the Parker’s, no tax files, no bank accounts or government ID’s. They were a mystery, but Tony didn’t really see the need to push much farther in the past. By the looks of all the FBI documentation, it was more than likely for their own safety. It was strange though, how the FBI was the one to deal with the case against Steven (Skip) Wescott, and they did it discreetly. Sexual assault cases in New York City were rarely ever dealt with by the FBI.

Now Tony needed to find a reason to approach Spider-Man. He didn’t really know whether it would be better to approach Peter as himself or as the masked vigilante. Tony just wanted to thank the teen. Sure Peter didn’t do very much, not really technically to help Tony. But hearing him talk to the girl, it helped him talk to Pepper. If a 14 year old can do it, so can Tony Stark. And it wasn’t like Tony was going to broadcast it to the world, he just told his long-term partner. People could believe a babysitter hurting doing such horrible things to a child, but they wouldn’t believe Tony.

So he needed to thank Peter. Not because he was grateful that a child went through the same things Tony did, but because he was willing to share. Spider-Man didn’t even care that there were camera’s on him, his focus was on comforting that little girl. Who knows how many people he helped, Tony could only hope it was more than just him.

Peter was 15 before Tony finally built up the nerve to approach him. He was just a kid, who had bad things happen to him, and was now helping others. So what if Tony was scared to see him? Tony just needed the perfect cover story. And he needed to make sure the new spider suit would keep Peter safe. That’s all. Don’t approach until you know that everything is perfect.

Tony was in the Parker apartment. That was fine. May Parker was very nice. Surprised that Tony Stark was at her door, but then suddenly not surprised that it was about Peter. She was a lovely woman, invited him in and told some stories from when Peter was younger.

The panic that started to set in as the time ticked on before Peter arrived back from school was starting to eat at Tony. He could feel his stomach twisting and throat starting to burn. Maybe he should have had Happy come up with him. He was okay. Tony was in control.

Finally Peter arrived before Tony was able to make some cheap excuse about an emergency at SI. Seeing Peter was difficult. This was Tony’s first time since 2000 where he willingly put himself in a situation with a child.

Tony might actually throw up.

Peter had bright brown eye’s, nearly golden in colour and dark brown hair. Of course Tony had seen the government picture of Peter and school photos, but now it was a lot. Peter was a real person and Tony was not prepared for this.

“I was just talking to your aunt about the internship you applied for. With the September Foundation. Youngest candidate to ever apply, and also the most qualified. So I wanted to come and meet you personally, Mr. Parker. You mind if we talk?”

“Yeah, no, yeah, of course.”

Tony couldn’t believe the starry-eyed wonder that Peter had. The wide-eyed innocence. How could this kid who has seen so much tragedy be able to look like nothing horrible has ever happened? It didn’t make much sense.

Peter led Tony to his bedroom, and Tony maintained his space by the door. It said a lot to him, how Peter was okay with having an older man in his room, yet Tony couldn’t really handle being alone with anyone for long periods of time.

“I’m going to cut to the chase. You’re Spider-Man right? I’m not here to harass you about it or anything. I’ve covered you’re tracks for you, actually. Deleted some CCTV footage, made sure no connection existed. Also made you a new suit, it’s got all the bells and whistles.”

And there was the distrust. The squinted eyes, locked jaw and crossed arms that screamed that Peter was uncomfortable and that he did not believe this offer. Peter looked much older now, all signs of youthful innocence gone, now just a cagey-tired kid who didn’t know what to do. Tony tried to make himself appear smaller, less grandios, he knows that’s what he would like.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You inadvertently helped me out, I’m just repaying the debt.”

Peter hummed and paced the room. Tony tried to make sure that if Peter wanted to leave, the door wasn’t completely blocked off.

“Mr. Stark, I never applied for any September Foundation internship thing. It doesn’t even let you try and apply if you aren’t of age. This clearly won’t look like an actual internship, May will see right through it. There is obviously something else you aren’t telling me.”

Smart kid. Already aware of the holes in Tony’s plan. Willing to call him out. Tony liked him, for a teen vigilante. That’s all. Arms length and everything.

“You’ll come to the tower twice a week. I’ve talked to Nat, she saw your hand-to-hand combat. It’s alright, but sloppy. She’s going to make sure you can protect yourself.”

It took a moment before Peter made up his mind. He even turned his back to Tony to move the clearly home made computer on his desk. What a big sign of trust! To allow an older man into his room and then turn his back, Tony couldn’t imagine being okay with doing the same thing with any woman other than Pepper.

“Sure,” Peter nodded, “Yeah, with the Black Widow? I’d be a fool not to accept that, she’s pretty awesome.”

Tony couldn’t help but laughing. He nodded his head towards the Iron-Man poster on the wall, “Clearly not as great as Iron Man.”

Peter laughed. His smile lit up the whole room.

“It’s not like I ever thought you’d be in my room, Mr. Stark. They’re coming down as soon as you leave.”

“No, no you can’t now that I’ve seen them. I’ll fire you if you take them down.”

“I’ll quit first.”

Peter was a quick learner. He also wormed his way in to the Avenger’s lives. It surprised Tony, how Peter was only ever suppose train with Nat twice a week, now he had lab days and would show up sporadically. The teen had inserted himself into everyone’s lives and he fit. Spider-Man was safer out on the streets and the Avenger’s were more than happy to help Peter however they could.

Tony was blown away from how smart Peter was. There were only a handful of times where Bruce and Tony had to slow down and explain things to Peter. It was far more common that Peter would beat them to the answer, or simplify things, and even correct their mistakes.

“You know, if I wasn’t there went you went missing back in 2000 I’d think Peter was your kid.”

Rhodey laughed and clapped Tony on the back, and that was it. Suddenly Tony couldn’t breathe. His wrists were bleeding and the metal of the bedframe was creaking. His eyes were swollen from the constant tears the never seemed to stop streaming down his face. Mary was sitting beside him, her hands on the beginning of a growing stomach. She just wanted to make it through the second trimester before Tony was allowed to go. Her eyes were far too bright and unhinged.

“Tony, Tones, you’re okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Peter is an August baby. He’s August. Not April. The dates don’t line up. It’s fine. He’s the son of Diane and Jacob Parker.”

Tony was leaning over, knees to his chest, hands flat on the floor. He’s touching the floor, not a dirty old mattress. Not handcuffs or a bedframe. Just the cool, hardwood flooring.

“Tones, what are you talking about? Are you trying to tell me you have a kid out there?”

So Tony told him. Everything. How he left the party, what happened during all those months. Tony talked about how he discovered Spider-Man, and how he just wanted to thank Peter for sharing his story, because it helped. He wanted to make sure Peter was safe, and this was the only way Tony knew how to re-pay him.

Months went on and it felt like a constant balance of ‘this is too much, I am not enough,’ for Tony. With Rhodey knowing what happened, it helped a little bit. Tony didn’t feel like he was always suffocating in guilt. Of course it didn’t stop Tony from feeling like he was drowning all the time, from the memories of what happened, but he could share his guilt with Rhodey and Pepper, and it helped a little.

Actually it helped a lot. Whenever the team would call Peter ‘Stark Junior’ as a joke. Or when Thor came back and saw Peter immediately dubbing him as ‘Stark-Son.’ Rhodey and Pepper were incredible at talking him down from the edges of his panic attacks. Having people- his people- know what happened helped a lot more than Tony ever thought they would. They believed him. Rhodey and Pepper believed him when he said he didn’t want anything to happen, that he hadn’t asked for it. They didn’t tell him it was his fault or push him to find the mystery kid, but instead they listened. It helped.

Tony didn’t ever think he could get to this point in his life. Not after 2000. He didn’t think he would be able to trust so many people, or talk to about everything. It was nice, to feel some semblance of normal. Not that anything could be considered normal, but learning not to keel over from the weight of everything made it feel more normal. Spiraling at the sight of blue eyes or being near women and seeing children on the streets was not normal.

But Peter in Tony’s lab was normal. And so was Peter in the communal kitchen, his head in the cupboards looking for a snack. It was so normal it ached. Tony hated that he could have this mentor-mentee relationship with Peter and he couldn’t even handle the thought of his own child.

“Hey, you’re no ostrich, get your head out of the metaphorical sand, food is on it’s way up right now.”

“Bad analogy, Mr. Stark, I would have gone with the hand in the cookie jar thing. Y’know because food. It was the obvious one.”

Peter pulled his head out of cupboards a lop-sided smile lighting up his eyes. Even after knowing Peter for nearly a year, Tony was still blown away by Peter’s optimism, and his snark.

“Right, yes, my apologies for not choosing the right analogy. Next time I’ll use the right one.”

The smile on Peter’s face dropped. He looked over to the elevator, his head shaking. “No, no, no. That’s not food, I’m sorry Mr. Stark.”

The elevator doors opened and there stood May Parker with an FBI agent. Neither of them seemed very happy, which definitely wasn’t good. Tony had made sure that there was no way Peter could get in trouble for being Spider-Man, and there was no way the government would find out that are one in the same. Tony did everything right, didn’t he? Peter should have been safe. Everything should be fine.

Taglist: dm/ send an ask to be added !

@peter-is-a-bean @friendshapedcastiel @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler @thecrazymarvelfan @bonjour-gays @thebestqueenoftheworld

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#irondad #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #mcu #spiderson #spiderman #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #bio dad tony stark #angst #hurt to comfort #irondad and spiderson #spider-man #Iron Man

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zootopiathingz · 3 years

Text

Thanksgiving in Quarantine

(A/N: more Pixar AU!! no there's not really a plot I just wanted to write something for thanksgiving. Also friendly reminder I've never cooked a day in my life so Imma just be vague on those details)

"Alright Pixars, listen up!" Mike called to get everyone's attention. After their conversations died down, he stepped forward towards the front of the room so all eyes would be on him. As the group leader, it was his job to host the monthly meetings and inform them of recent events or decisions made by him or their creator, Luxo Sr.

Once he was sure they were listening, he proceeded to explain, "So as you all know, even though we aren't affected by Covid, we still have to stay in quarantine for the sake of others. So that means that this year, we won't be spending Thanksgiving with the Disneys—"

"YES!!" Everyone cheered ecstatically, some standing up to pump their fists or high-five each other.

Mike was taken aback by their joyous reaction. Not just because it was a response to what he said, but he couldn't remember the last time all of them were that excited about anything. "—like we usually do.." He finished.

"Oh don't act like you're not relieved about it, Mike." McQueen said, "You hate the Disneys just as much as we do."

"Excuse me, but we do not 'hate' here." He said, "We just strongly dislike. Anyway, I'm not that relieved like you guys are. I was actually looking forward to our tradition."

"Well, I'm just glad we won't have to be greeted by them singing 'Be Our Guest' for the millionth fucking time." Woody scoffed, earning some murmurs of agreement from the rest.

Their relationship with the Disneys was complicated, to say the least. Luxo Sr. started the alliance with Mickey Mouse himself several years ago, and thus they joined the Disney family. But the Pixars were never given a say in the deal, and while they did admire the Disneys and were grateful for the success they brought them, that didn't mean they were tolerable to be around. The Pixars didn't hate them (despite constantly joking that they did), they just despised their arrogance and their random outbursts of songs every ten minutes.

"Wait so if we're not going to the Disneys, we're gonna have Thanksgiving at our house?" Marlin asked, "You do realize we haven't done that in like, 14 years? And obviously the family's grown since then."

Mike nodded, "I understand that, but if we're able to somehow survive Halloween, Easter, Christmas, and New Years on our own, then how hard can Thanksgiving be?"

"Your optimism is appreciated." EVE said, "But from past experience, this feels like yet another disaster waiting to happen."

"Yeah, I mean, who's even gonna cook dinner?" Remy asked.

"You are." Mike shrugged.

The rat man widened his eyes, "Say what now?"

Remy was a great cook, and honestly he was the only one who actually knew how to use an oven. But cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal for the whole group was asking a bit much.

"I can't cook that much in one day by myself!"

"You won't, some of us will help you. Right, guys?" Mike asked. But he got no responses, instead everyone just awkwardly looked away.

Remy sighed, "Come on, guys. Do you really want to eat burnt turkey for Thanksgiving? Imelda?"

She put her hands up in defense, "Don't look at me. I don't know how to make white people food."

"Okay, relax. We'll have WALL-E help you." Mike said, gesturing to the robot man—who gave an enthusiastic wave.

But this offer didn't make Remy feel any better. Out of all the Pixars Mike could've suggested, it just had to be WALL-E. "Seriously?" He asked, "You know he burns toast, right?"

"He'll be fine." Mike waved a dismissive hand. "..probably. Okay, does anyone else want to help with Thanksgiving dinner?"

Once again there was nothing but silence and awkward glances. Remy looked around with a pleading face, trying to get anyone to agree, but no such luck. Well, until Atta got tired of the lack of responses and and decided it was best to take one for the team. "Alright fine. I'll help you." She said to Remy.

"Thank Luxo." He sighed with relief, "You are a saint, Atta."

She shrugged, "I try."

"Then it's settled." Mike said, "Thanksgiving will be hosted by Remy, Atta, and WALL-E. Let's pray they don't screw it up."

The three gave him a cold look, while the others nodded in agreement.

—

Thursday came sooner than they realized, and unfortunately due to the pandemic, buying groceries was a pain in the ass and getting what they needed for dinner took longer than they would've hoped. Luckily they were able to have it all in their kitchen and (hopefully) would have enough time to make it. And even though they were spending the holiday by themselves, the Pixars still got dressed up and decorated for the occasion.

Since the kids would be joining them at the table as well, that meant having to cook for even more people. Remy, WALL-E, and Atta were hard at work in the kitchen making gravy, deviled eggs, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, etc. And of course, turkey. At first it didn't seem like cooking was going to be so bad. They got an early start before most of the Pixars even woke up. If all went well, they would have dinner done by the afternoon.

"Okay guys, we've got a full house of hungry Pixars so we gotta get this done quick." Remy reminded them, "Atta, you're on pie detail, and you're gonna help me with the turkey. WALL-E, you focus on the casserole, eggs, and making sure Atta stays away from the marshmallows."

Atta slowly looked over at him while he pointed at her, "Yeah, I see you."

She narrowed her eyes at him before slowly reaching her hand toward the bag of marshmallows. He scolded her as she popped another one into her mouth, smirking at him and holding back a laugh. But then the two quickly moved on, since they couldn't waste much time on banter and jokes.

"I don't see how the Disneys do this every year." WALL-E commented, taking a bite of bread.

"Well, they don't actually make it. They have a whole cooking staff that serves them every meal. Which is kinda why they invite us in the first place." Atta explained to him, helping Remy baste the turkey.

Remy scoffed, "And yet there's only one chef in this house. Man, I'd love it if I could get more help around here. Hopefully the new Pixars will know how to cook."

"That's what you say every time." Atta chuckled.

"Maybe if I keep saying it, it'll happen." He shrugged.

After a few minutes, the turkey was ready to cook. They placed it in the oven and set the correct amount of degrees and time. Now all they had to do was wait and finish the rest of the meal.

Violet walked into the kitchen, inhaling the strong scent of half-cooked food. "Mmm, smells great in here." She commented, opening the fridge to grab a water bottle. "So how's slaving away for the others going?"

"We're not 'slaving away', Violet." Remy rolled his eyes. Although now that he said it out loud, it kinda seemed like they were, considering not a single other Pixar was offering to help. Instead they were all hanging out around the house doing who knows what. "Regardless, we're doing just fine."

"You wanna help us?" Atta asked with a mouthful of marshmallows—which earned a scowl from Remy.

Violet sighed, shutting the fridge. "I'd love to, but Joy's taking me out shopping for Christmas presents.

"But stores aren't even open today." WALL-E said.

"That's what I told her." The teen shrugged her shoulders, "But she insisted on taking me and a couple others. I honestly think they're just trying to get out of the house so they have an excuse not to help out."

The three exchanged an annoyed glance. While they expected that sort of behavior from their friends, it was still irritating to know they didn't care enough to even stay home for Thanksgiving. But then again, ditching her friends when they need her didn't sound like something Joy would do.

Before they could question it, they heard Violet's name being called from the other room, signaling her to walk away. "Well, good luck with dinner, guys." She said.

"Okay, have fun today." Atta said to her right before she left. The three then gave each other the same confused expression, all thinking the same thing. But it was a short-lived moment, as they quickly got back to work.

"Alright, making conversation is nice and all, but we can't spend much time having social interactions." Remy reminded them, "From now on, no more distractions, okay? Focus is key."

He turned around, seeing a certain someone once again stuffing three marshmallows in her mouth. "Atta!"

"Leave me alone!" She retorted.

—

Several hours passed since the three started cooking, and they were getting close to being finished. It was hard keeping the kids out of the kitchen to stop them from sneaking bites of the food, since they always did that even when eating at the Disneys' place. But in a display of irony, Remy always shooed them away or chased them out with a broom.

A little after noon the meal was finally ready to be gorged. Everyone had a little bit of everything on their plate and had to pull up a few chairs and small tables so they could all sit together in one spot (one of the tables was actually just an old nightstand). Usually when eating meals, the Pixars would just sit in different areas around the house since the table wasn't big enough for all of them to sit at. But since this was Thanksgiving, they wanted to be together.

"Alright everyone, before we eat, we should go around and say what we're thankful for." Woody said, "And I'll start if that makes it easier."

"It would." They all agreed.

They all joined hands as Woody began, "Well, I'm thankful for all of you. You're not just my friends or people I'm forced to live with, you're my family. Which is kinda the same thing but has better meaning. I'm also thankful for our success, and I'm thankful we're doing this here and not at Disney hell."

A few of them laughed and nodded, although they never thought they'd hear the words "Disney" and "hell" in the same sentence.

"I'll go next." Sulley said, "Let's see, I'm thankful for the food on my plate, and the hard-working people who made it for me."

Remy, Atta, and WALL-E smiled at him.

"And I'm thankful to have the privilege to celebrate this holiday with the people I love."

"Awww!!" They cooed.

Barley leaned towards Sadness to whisper, "Wait, are we supposed to say meaningful shit like that every time?" The girl merely shrugged in response.

Once everyone had a turn saying what they were thankful for, they were finally able to dig in. The turkey was even better than they were used to. The whole meal tasted far better than what they would've received at the Disneys' Thanksgiving. Except the sweet potato casserole appeared to be missing quite a few marshmallows.

"I'm so glad it's Thanksgiving." Joy said, a little out-of-the blue.

"Why's that, Joy?" Bob asked her curiously.

"So I can finally get in the Christmas spirit without people telling me to 'wait until Thanksgiving'." She rolled her eyes.

Out of all of them, Joy was definitely the Christmas fanatic, so much that all other holidays around the end of the year were irrelevant to her. The Pixars didn't mind it, though. They loved Christmas, and they were glad she was always the one to go all out on decorations so they didn't have to.

"Can't argue with that." Jessie said, stuffing a piece of pie in her mouth. "But sadly it's not gonna be the same this year."

"No kidding." Merida scoffed. "If people had just done what they were told back in March, this wouldn't have happened."

McQueen raised a brow, "Dude, we had a whole ass celebration for the Swearing-In in March—"

"That was before quarantine, shut up." She was quick to defend.

"When's quarantine gonna be over?" Dash asked, "I'm tired of staying inside all day."

Mike sighed, as he dreaded this topic every time it came up in conversation. But as the leader, he had to be the voice of reason. "Look guys, I know it's tough, okay? We can't even die from Covid but we're being forced to stay at home, and I know it's frustrating. Heck, there's probably not even gonna be a Swearing-In ceremony for 'Soul'."

"There's not??" Dory asked with a frown.

"If things stay this way, then no." He said, even though it hurt to admit. Swearing-Ins were a big deal for the Pixars. It was what made them apart of the family. "But there's nothing we've been through that we've faced alone, right? We've always had each other, and we always will."

Even though they were still sad about the situation, and even if what he said was a little cheesy, they knew he was right. They were the Pixars for crying out loud, they could handle any challenge as long as they stuck together.

Mike raised his glass, signaling everyone else to do the same. "I propose a toast. To our Pixar family."

"To our family!" They cheered, sipping their drinks afterward.

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 4 years

Text

Chapter One - Hello Chicago

A/N: So this is my first crack at Chicago fire fanfiction, so don't judge too hard, alright? This will unfold from the beginning of season three, so if you haven't watched it yet, but plan to; SPOILER ALERT! I tried to follow along with the storyline of the show, but some things have been changed. Shout out to my superawesome beta @thorne93, you rock!

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Beth (OFC)

Warnings: None.

Wordcount: 2975

Three weeks ago:

It was a beautiful summer day in Chicago, the sun was high in the sky while a warm breeze fanned the air, providing some much needed relief from the scorching sun. Beth had just moved into a cozy little apartment on West Wolcott, a seemingly friendly neighbourhood that she hadn't really had the time to explore yet. One thing she had noticed though, was the little bar on the corner, Molly’s. It reminded her of the last place she worked at back in New York before she picked up her life and headed for the windy city. On this particular day, she saw a ‘help wanted’ sign on the bulletin board outside, and without thinking twice, she climbed the three steps and walked inside. A little bell above the intricate mahogany door chimed, and before it even closed behind her, three confused faces looked up at her from a table near the bar.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the woman in the group said, offering Beth a friendly smile as she did.

“Oh…” Beth started, looking between the three of them. The woman was a beautiful latina, around Beth's age, with a kind smile. One of the men, the older one of them, looked like he was in his mid forties maybe, and the other one was around Beth's age, maybe a couple years younger. He had big brown puppy dog eyes and a thick mustache. “I just saw the help wanted sign outside, and figured I'd see if you had an application I could fill out,” she explained. “But I can come back later,” she suggested when there was no answer. It felt as though she had walked into something here. She didn't know them, but it seemed as if there was a sadness behind their smiles.

“Nonsense,” the older man exclaimed, getting to his feet. “Come sit down.”

Beth put down her groceries at the door and went to join them.

“I'm Christopher Herrmann,” he introduced, shaking Beth's hand. “That's Gabriella Dawson-” Beth shook her hand too. “And this here is Otis,” he said, patting the guy's shoulder.

“Brian,” the younger man corrected.

“Nice to meet you all. I'm Beth Andrews.”

“So you’re looking for a job?” Gabriella wondered.

“Yeah. I just moved in down the street last week, and I saw the sign upfront today,” she explained.

“You have any experience, kid?” Herrmann asked in a very prominent Chicago accent.

“I do. Spent the last ten years working as a bartender in New York. Two different nightclubs for about five years and then nearly five year's at a neighbourhood bar like this,” she explained. “Then I moved here. I have references,” she added.

“Any other work experience?” he wondered.

“Yeah. I was a paramedic with the New York Firedepartment for eight years. We were on 24 hours and off for 48, so it was easy enough to combine with other jobs.”

The three of them shared an amused look and Beth wondered if she had said something wrong.

“We all work for the CFD at house 51 here in town. Gabby is a paramedic, Herrmann and I are on truck,” Otis explained, and Beth chuckled at the coincidence.

“Paramedic for now,” Gabby corrected. “I've graduated from the academy, and hope to start fighting fires soon.”

“Really? Congrats,” Beth offered.

“Thank you,” Gabby said with a wide smile. “Are you looking to be a paramedic here in Chicago too, or?”

“Not really, no. I got injured on the job and the more time passed, the harder it was to get back to it. I made a real effort about three months ago, but the job had changed for me,” Beth tried to explain, hoping that a fellow paramedic would understand.

“Alright,” Herrmann dragged. “So why Chicago?”

“Heard you guys were hiring. Couldn't let that opportunity slip through my fingers,” Beth joked with a coy smile, looking between the three of them.

Gabby looked at the other two and nodded before looking back at Beth. “Welcome to Molly’s.”

“Really?” Beth exclaimed.

“Yep,” Herrmann confirmed. “Be here at five and we’ll get you settled in.”

***

And that was how Beth landed her job at Molly’s. A job that she absolutely loved. Never had she imagined that a simple bartender job would come with such a wide network of people and friends, but Molly’s had that family vibe to it. It was a place where firefighters, police officers, and doctors came to hang their hat and try to find a good end to an otherwise shitty day at work, or a place to celebrate the good days. She found many acquaintances during her first three weeks, but also some good friends… like Gabby.

After Beth had Gabriella and her fiancee - who was a lieutenant at firehouse 51 - Matt Casey over for dinner, Gabby had convinced her to come to the house and cook for them all, which she gladly did. One thing she had learned through her year's working at NYFD was that the fastest way to a firefighter’s heart was through their stomachs.

Firehouse 51 was still mourning the loss of one of their paramedics, Leslie Shay, who had died on the job just a few weeks before Beth rolled into town. Her death still cast a shadow over the place, but they were all trying to get back to normal. A normal that would be hard to find before the lieutenant of Squad 3 came back from his furlough. Kelly Severide had been Shay’s best friend, and the one that took her death the hardest. No one had seen or heard from him since Shay’s funeral, and they were all starting to wonder if he would ever return to the station at all.

Beth hoped that a good meal would help cheer them up a bit, even if it was just for a little while.

“This smells amazing, Beth,” Cruz complimented as he hovered over her in the kitchen. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“Yeah… Tell them the story,” Gabby said with a chuckle, not looking up from the magazine she was flipping through.

“Alright,” Beth dragged, very aware that all eyes were on her all of a sudden. “I was dating this guy back when I was nineteen. He was a really nice guy, but I didn't really see it lasting very long, so when Valentine’s rolled around I didn't want to splurge on a big fancy gift for him. So I got him a pen,” she started explaining.

“You gave a guy a pen for valentines day?” Cruz asked with raised brows.

“Yeah - well- he was studying journalism and I had it engraved.. It was a nice pen, kay? My point is I wasn't too invested in the relationship at this point.”

“As evidenced by the pen,” Otis chimed in, earning himself a bitchface from Beth.

“But it seemed as though he was in a different place then I was at that time, so he gave me a gift certificate for cooking classes, worth about 500 dollars.”

A round of ‘aww’s’ went around the room followed by Gabby’s “Wait for it.”

“For about two seconds I felt really shitty about the 14 dollar pen I had gotten him, so I started telling him that I couldn't accept his gift. That it was too much.. Too generous. He shut me down and told me it was an investment in our future and that - and I quote - he saw real potential in me, but if we were to start a family, he needed to know that I would be able to cook for them.”

Now there was a mixture of ‘eww’s’ and ‘oh, noes,’ going through the room.

“So I took the gift certificate and left. Then I spent 6 weeks learning to cook all these delicious meals that he will never get to taste,” she concluded.

“Good for you, Beth,” Sylvie complimented. She was the newest member of the firehouse, filling Shay’s position after she died. Sylvie was a small town girl that had this sort of careful nature to her. She was very sweet though. Beth liked her a lot.

“I don't get it,” Cruz said with a puzzled look on his face. “He was planning a future with you, isn't that nice?” Coming from anyone else, this comment would probably piss Beth off, but she knew him, and knew that he didn't really mean anything by it.

“He wasn't planning a future with me, he was planning my future for me,” Beth explained. “Look… being a stay at home mom is tough work, and I admire the shit out of those who do it, but at that point I had my own aspirations and goals for my future. It was pretty clear to me that even though he knew all of this, he didn't care as long as he got the family he pictured in his mind.”

“Oh… well… when you put it like that,” Cruz said, an apologetic look on his face.

“It's alright,” Beth assured before she announced to everyone that dinner was ready, and for all of them to dig in.

***

Dinner had been a huge success and she left the house with an open invitation to come back whenever to cook for them, which was their way of telling her that she had been accepted into their little family.

Now she was back behind the bar at Molly’s, which was easily her favorite place in the world right now. Lieutenant Casey had finally been able to track down and convince Lieutenant Severide to come back to Chicago, and they had all decided to throw him a little welcome home party at Molly’s.

Gabby had already been in Beth’s ear about Kelly Severide, warning her that he was a bit of a ladies man, but Beth assured her that she wasn't interested. She was excited to meet him though, besides being a ladies man, Beth had heard a lot of great things about him.

There was a good crowd already at the bar when Kelly finally showed up. The first thing that Beth noticed was that the pictures of him at the station didn't really do him justice. However, it wasn't the ocean blue eyes, or the plump lips, or even the broad shoulders. It was the way he carried himself. Standing tall and confident in his shoes as he was welcomed into the bar with cheers and pats on the back. There were few things more attractive in a man than confidence, Beth thought to herself, but there was a really fine line between confidence and arrogance, and from where she was standing it looked as though he was on the right side of that line. There was something else that she noticed about him, something that saddened her in some inexplicable way. As soon as the charming smile fell from his lips, his expression hardened. Not in an angry or mean looking way, but more… stoic. Like a man carrying around a pain inside of him that he didn't want anyone to see. Like he was trying to hide his vulnerability by appearing unapproachable.

Beth knew that underneath all that, there was a good man. Of course she hadn't met the man yet, but she knew that from the way people spoke about him.

He didn't take a seat at the bar, instead he wedged himself in between two stools and leaned against the counter.

“This is Beth, Molly’s new bartender,” Gabby said and Beth reached over the bar to shake his hand.

“Kelly,” he said, his piercing blue eyes tracking her features. “Nice to meet you.” The hardness of his face melted away as he smiled politely at her, revealing a little gap between his front teeth. It was as though she caught a little glimpse of who he was behind the hard exterior. It was just a flash, a fraction of a second, and then it was gone again.

“You too,” she offered. “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey,” he said simply before he got roped into a conversation with Chief Boden and Casey.

Beth did her best not to stare at the man, but throughout the night she caught herself looking for him, letting her eyes linger whenever they found him while her mind wondered who this man was underneath. Already then she knew she was in trouble

“I knew it,” Gabby said suddenly into her ear. Beth hadn't even seen her approaching.

“What?” she asked, pretending she had no clue what Gabby was on about. “I'm allowed to look,” she defended when her friend sent her a knowing look.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want to do,” Gabby said with a coy smile. “Just know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I'm not gonna get myself into anything,” Beth assured.

“Mhm… Anyway, Matt and I are going to head home. You okay to lock up?” Gabby asked.

The bar was mostly empty now. Just Severide, Cruz, and Otis remained. “Absolutely,” Beth assured. She said goodnight to her friend and then made her way over to the three men. “Last call, boys. What can I get you?”

The level of inebriation around the table was pretty darn high, but considering this was last call and they would be out soon, Beth didn't worry about it too much. As per their request, she grabbed them each a beer and then made her way back behind the bar to start getting ready to close up.

“Hey, Beth,” Kelly suddenly called out, making her spin around. “Come have a drink with us,” he lightly demanded.

She mulled it over for a second before she poured herself a glass of ice water and went to join them.

“What's this?” Kelly asked, pointing to her glass with furrowed brows.

“Water,” she stated simply.

“You don't drink?” he asked, looking into her blue eyes.

“Not at work.” Holy shit was he gorgeous, she thought to herself as she pried her eyes off of the freckles that peppered his nose. She hadn't noticed them earlier, but now that she was so close to him, she could clearly see them. She could still feel his eyes on her when she looked away, but she did her best to ignore the warm feeling that settled in her body under his gaze.

“How are you liking Chicago so far?” Cruz asked.

“It's good,” she said with a bob of her head. “Your pizza sucks though,” she added as an afterthought.

“Oh come on,” Otis exclaimed. “Chicago style beats New York style every day of the week,” he argued, getting support from the other two.

“Uhm.. no. Deep dish pizza tastes like tomato sauce and dough, and nothing more. New York style has the perfect toppings to cheese ratio on a crunchy crust. It's perfection.”

“You’re wrong,” Cruz chimed in. “The thin crust does not support enough toppings. It's structurally unsound.” He gestured as he spoke, as if he was caught in a heated debate about the state of the world or something.

That spiraled into a half an hour long argument about pizza and toppings, ending only when Beth said that she would prove them all wrong by coming into the fire house and cooking them some real pizza. This was met with much enthusiasm.

“Alright, boys. Time to get out so I can close up,” she announced after checking the time.

“You throwing me out of my own bar?” Otis asked as they all got to their feet.

“Damn straight,” she said with a smile, trying to ignore the looks she got from the very handsome lieutenant.

“This because of the pizza thing?”

“Absolutely,” she confirmed with a playful smile.

“Never argue with the bartender,” Kelly noted.

“Exactly,” Beth agreed. “Now get out so I can get home,” she ordered.

The three men were still outside waiting for a cab when Beth locked the door behind her. From what she could tell, Kelly was trying to rope the other two into continuing the evening somewhere else, without much luck it seemed like. She felt for him, she really did. Being alone with your thoughts after losing a loved one was hard, she remembered all too vividly what that was like.

“What about you?” he said, looking at Beth. “Wanna come have some drinks with me?”

“Not even a little bit,” she said. It was a lie. She would very much like to go with him, but she knew how that would end, and tempting as it was, it wasn't really an option. “I'm gonna go home and slip into a light coma.” It seemed as though her answer surprised him, and she got the impression that he wasn't really used to getting turned down.

“Can I walk you home then? Can be scary out here at this time of night,” he tried.

“My apartment is right there-” she pointed a few houses down - “I'm sure I'll make it home before your cab gets here, so you guys can just keep an eye on me from here.”

Cruz and Otis kept their eyes to the ground, trying to not get roped into this awkward interaction. They mumbled a goodnight as Beth left them, trying to hide their smiles from the lieutenant.

“What just happened?” Kelly asked with a confused expression on his face.

“You just got shut down, bro,” Cruz explained.

“Twice,” Otis added, making the two of them laugh.

Kelly watched as Beth made her way to her building, and just as the cab pulled up, she unlocked her door. He raised his hand and gave her a small wave before he got into the backseat of the car. For a while, he had the image of her bright smile, and big eyes in his mind, but soon enough she was replaced by Shay, and grief overtook him once again.

If you want a tag, just shoot me an ASK and we’ll make that happen.

If you like what you read, press that little reblog button, maybe leave me a little comment. Feedback is a great source of inspiration for me.

#Kelly Severide #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide fanfic #Chicago Fire #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire fanfic #kelly severide x reader #PF

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Note

Inspired by the song "Flower of The Plateau" by Mothy, this story thats part of Ever Changing Fate (my story) doesn't have much of a connection to the main plot of ECF but I made it to flesh it out more and because why not.

You might have to zoom in on the picture to be able to read it- sorry oof.

Cast:

Oliver's full name is "Oliver Bortè".

"Chrysana" is not actually Chrysana's real name. Her real name is "Zaria Bortè". Her current full name is " Chrysana Orlov".

Marilla's full name as you would guess is "Marilla Orlov".

The Tsardom of Rinael is inspired by Russia. In case you didn't already know since I've mentioned Parie before, Parie is literally just a play on "Paris" and is insird by France. I'm pretty sure I've said that before but just mentioning for anyone else who read this.

Thus:

Chrysana is basically a French woman except France is in the southeast area of the planet and she abandoned her son and left him for dead before fleeing to Russia except it's in the northwestern area of the planet. She traveled very far away for a reason: it's so far out it would be impossible (so she thought) for anyone to find out who she really was.

Harlots (aka prostitutes for any who didn't know) are heavily discriminated against in Ever Changing Fate due to being seen as sinful even though most of them are only harlots because they need money, such as Chrysana. Chrysana ended up pregnant after being "without her consent used in a vulgar way", which is code for "being RP'd". She was heavily scarred and saw her son as a burning reminder of her experience. She never loved him but upon his birth she thought she could get used to him. But she soon realized that having a son was not very profitable because she couldn't afford to feed both herself and him, and the men she brought in didn't like having a kid around. Babies were too much work in her eyes at the time, and so she abandoned him and chose to completely erase her old identity as the harlot Zaria Bortè, and took on a new identity. In the years after she married the head of House Orlov in Rinael after fleeing there as a stowaway on a ship and had a daughter. But she nevr anticipated her son searching for her...

And so she had to maintain her new identity...

And that mean that anyone who knew of her past must be-

Since you read the text in the above picture, you kno what happened...

"The poor Oliver was found dead"

For your information Marilla was completely oblivious to Oliver being her older brother and her mother not being who she pretended to be, along with Duke Orlov who was also oblivious to everything.

Chrysana faked her entire personality as "Chrysana Orlov" when in reality her true self as "Zaria Bortè" was a cynical, scarred woman who hated the world, and was nearly unapproachable. Due to this in order to survive Chrysana knew she had to forge a new personality for herself which was joyful, social, happy, etc, and thus is why she became known as the "Joy of Rinael" due to the fact Rinael was constantly a gloomy land of snow, so someone who was optimistic and happy was sort of just foreign to them.

Other facts:

Chrysana was an orphan. She had been homeless her entire life until she fled to Rinael. She had found and decided to live in an abandoned house that she had fixed up herself and lit up with candles a few years before Oliver was born, when she was 14.

Yes, Chrysana had been a harlot even before she was of age; she became one when she was 12. "It was all to survive" is what she told herself even though she hated everything, her life, the men, the world...

Chrysana was 19 when she had Oliver.

Oliver is aproximately 6 years older than Marilla.

Marilla actually really wanted a sibling and would have loved having Oliver as her older brother. She got a baby sister a year after Oliver's death and a baby brother another two years after that.

Chrysana and Marilla's appearance is somewhat inspired by Hatsune Miku, mostly Marilla with her pigtails and hair color.

The rose on the headband that Chrysana is wearing is a black rose.

Chrysana's birth name and fake name are both flower names; Chrysana comes from Chrysanthemum and Zaria either is a flower or means flower in some other language, I forget. Marilla is another name for the flower Amaryllis.

Orlov was a noble family in the Russian Empire way back.

Vasily is a common Russian name, I believe.

Duke Vasily Orlov had strawberry blonde hair and purple eyes. He was younger than Chrysana by two years and had loved her nearly ever since she had moved to Rinael. Considering he was was 19 when she moved to Rinael, his teenage hormones were still all over the place and genuinely his crush on her was a childish one at first.

Chrysana despises intercourse nowadays but does it anyway to keep up her farce and to satisfy Vasily.

Chrysana genuinely loves Vasily but the relationship can be strained because of her trauma, fake identity, and fake personality.

Chrysana murdered several other men who happened to be people she slept with years earlier if she saw them whether she was in Rinael or visiting somehwere else because she wants to annihilate all record of her past.

By the time she died Chrysana had murdered about half of the men she slept with in the past.

Chrysana lived in the 1200s T.C., 350~ years before the Second Great Theda Civil War and main plot of Ever Changing Fate.

Chrysana's descendants (specifically Marilla's line) eventually married into the royal family of Rinael and several of the members of the royal family ended up bearing her hair color and or eye color due to it being very dominant throughout her bloodline.

If anyone found out she had been a harlot many years later there would be a bit of a scandal about it in the royal family, how big it would be would depend on how far down the line her descendants are at whenever it was discovered. However, her being a harlot was never found out by anyone.

One of the greatest rulers of Rinael bore both Chrysana's hair and eye color. He lived in the 1400s.

Chrysana became a writer later in her life (Around her mid 40s) and wrote a story that was actually based on her past identity. She wrote it in order to get out everything that she had pent up inside of her. She lied to everyone whenever asked that the entire story was fictitious and was based on many stories with several elements pulled from other stories to make it. It was called "The Tragedy of The Harlot Catria". Catria was the name of Chrysana's mother who was also a harlot according to the records Chrysana managed to find about her. She of course claimed that the records she looked at of Catria were just for her story- in reality Chrysana just desperately wished to know anything about her that she could because she never met her since her mother died in childbirth.

Chrysana knew her mother's name because of a locket that she had held onto since she could remember which had the inscription "Love from mama, Catria, to her lovely daughter, Zaria".

Chrysana's mother was a victim of RP just like Chrysana.

Chrysana's eye color is from her mother, her hair is from her father.

Chrysana met her father once and promptly beat him up for everything he did to her mother and never carung about her. However, he didn't know she was his daughter and she didn't kill him because he was a nobleman of Parie and it would have ended badly for Rinael because it could have caused rumors about him being killed by a Rinaelian nobleman/woman or she could have gotten found out.

Rinael and Parie don't like each other very much. :/

I personally like that you've been building on the character designs because it's really starting to come together in a really beautiful kind of way. The way that you're able to draw hair and the way that the environment affects it is just really telling of the characters in a lot more ways than you realize. It stands out more than just color theory in general.

Posture is one thing but you can see a lot just from the way that someone Styles themselves and just by looking at these characters you can tell that they have this specific energy to them. It's not standoffish. But it's definitely something in the realm of uneasy and uncertain.

I just want to say that these guys have been going through so much and their universe that it is kind of tedious. Can everyone in this room just get along for 5 minutes to have a group hug or something?

#mod kait #ask #littleghostlyrose #not mm #oc

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 14/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Martin tells Tim everything that’s happened to him and Jon, and about the fear entities that now inhabit this dimension.

Read above at AO3 or read here below!

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

“Damn.” Tim stood up and looked down at Jon lying on the bed, where he and Martin had just deposited him. “He is really out of it.”

“Yeah. That—that happens.” Martin decided it was a little cool in the bedroom, and pulled the blanket over Jon. When he looked up again, Tim was staring at him in a very specific way that he decided to ignore. “Thanks for helping me get him back here.”

“Well, you definitely weren’t getting any help from him. So… are we still doing this?”

“Yeah.” Martin took one last look at Jon; at least he still looked peaceful. “Let’s, um—let’s go to the sitting room. Can I get you some tea? Or—”

“No.” Tim shook his head as they made their way back out of the bedroom. “Can I ask—are we doing this now because Jon is knocked out?”

“No,” Martin said immediately, then thought a little more. “Well—mostly no.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means—” Martin tried to think of the best way to say it. “Look, he knows we have to tell you. I just don’t get the feeling he—I think it’s better if I do it.”

“Better for who?”

“I—” Martin sighed. “Look—we can wait until he wakes up, if you want.”

“Nope.” Tim sat on the couch and turned to Martin. “That’s all right.”

Martin grabbed the chair from Jon’s desk and brought it over to face Tim. As he did so, he realized he’d thought through how to tell certain parts of the story quite a lot, but others not nearly as much. One thing he hadn’t really thought about at all was how to start.

“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Fine. Ok—ok. So.” He took a deep breath. “Five years ago—about—we all started working in the archives together. Sasha applied for the head archivist job and she got it; she asked you and Jon to take assistant positions, and I interviewed for the third one and—well, Sasha gave me a chance. Right?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Right…”

“And since then—I mean, we’ve done, like—pretty normal archive stuff. And sure, the Institute is a bit off, like—the stuff people want us to store for them and the research and all that, but it’s been fine, right?”

“Um…”

“I mean compared to what’s been happening since—since Jon and I disappeared.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll give that to you.” Tim continued to look at him expectantly.

“Ok. Ok. Well—it happened a different way, too. Some—somewhere else.”

“Ok.” Tim sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And look—no matter how I tell this—it’s not going to make sense until I really get it all out. So—”

“I’m listening.”

“Right. It’s just that it’s—”

“Martin.”

“Ok. So five years ago, in this—other place, we all started working in the archives. Only—only Sasha wasn’t the head archivist, Jon was.”

Tim shifted his weight on the couch, but didn’t uncross his arms. “You know he applied for the position? I’m not supposed to—no one knows I know that, actually. Not even Jon.”

“Huh.” Martin hadn’t been aware. “I mean—I didn’t know either, but that makes sense.”

“Does it? We all knew Sasha was applying, and she was way more qualified. Nothing against Jon, just—objectively, she was.”

“I mean that it makes sense given—well, ok, we’ll get to that. So you know the people here that started coming in to talk to us—the interviews and the—the statements, the written ones—the thing is, there, that was what we did. It was what we’d always done at the Magnus Institute, in the archives. The written statements, they went back years. Like, two hundred years and then some from before the Institute existed. And we researched them and filed them and we all just—it was normal.”

Tim was listening, which was all Martin could ask.

“So we—we didn’t necessarily believe all of them—though maybe we did more than we said—but then—Jane Prentiss happened.”

Martin told him everything he could remember about it, everything that he could organize into sentences, and Tim’s expression stayed almost the same the entire time. He realized Tim was still trying to decide what to make of it when he got to the part about Sasha being replaced, because even after hearing about what happened to him and Jon with the worms, that was really the first time Tim’s face changed.

“Wait.” Tim finally interrupted him. “This—this happened, or—”

“Yes,” Martin said, “and I know, it doesn’t make sense yet—”

“But—this happened to you? Us? Sasha?”

“Yes.”

“When, though? When you—disappeared, or—”

“No. That happened at the end. Just—”

“Ok. Ok—but Sasha, she—she changed? She became this—”

“No. She—she was replaced. Sasha—” He didn’t like thinking about it now any more than he ever had. “Sasha died. She was gone. And none of us knew.”

“But if none of us knew—”

“Well, that’s not entirely true, Melanie knew, sort of. And then later Jon figured it out, but—well, there’s more. Just—just listen.”

“Does this come back to—to now, though?”

“Yes. In the end, it—it will.”

Martin took another breath and continued; Tim seemed much more invested now than he had been initially, and that unfortunately made it a little harder to tell the story. He eventually got to the part about Tim and what happened to Danny.

“Wait.” As soon as Tim realized where it was going, he leaned forward, uncrossing his arms. “Start over again.”

So Martin started over again, and this time he got all the way through to the end before Tim interrupted him.

“Why Danny? Why would that happen to him?”

Martin shrugged, then regretted it as he realized what a casual gesture it was. “I don’t know. It’s not really clear why—why anyone.”

“But what did he do? Why?”

“Tim, he didn’t do anything. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Why didn’t I stop it, though? Did I say why I didn’t at least stop him from going back? I mean, he came to me.”

“Tim—” Martin stood up from his chair and sat next to Tim on the couch. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have.”

“But if this happened—this happened?”

“Yes. It happened.”

“I would have known something wasn’t right. He came to me. How hard would it have been to—to just stay up with him?”

“Tim, that’s not how they work.”

“They. The—the fears?”

“Yes. And the people and the—things—that serve them.” Martin ran a hand over his face before continuing. “They manipulate you. They—they trap you. Like they trapped all of us at the Institute.”

“So you said. So what—I just let it go? I went to work at the Institute but then just forgot about it?”

“No. Not at all. Actually, after that, you—well, ok.” He told Tim everything he’d learned about the Unknowing, everything that Basira and later Jon had told him about it.

“Good,” Tim said, after Martin told him how it had ended. “At least I knew how to go out, anyway.”

Martin cringed as the memory of cleaning out Tim’s desk after Peter Lukas took over the Institute hit him all over again. Tim might have seen it, or maybe he didn’t, but either way he sat back on the couch again and seemed to collect himself.

“Go on. I still don’t know where this is all going. And you still haven’t said anything about why Elias was doing all this. Why he was trapping everyone into working at the Institute for the—the Eye?”

“Yeah. Right. Well—he wasn’t. Not really.” Martin continued the story, explaining how he had done his best to try to protect everyone after Peter had taken over the Institute, but ultimately hadn’t done anything at all except fall into another trap. He explained how Jon had woken up and his abilities had been stronger, how Jon had done everything he could to keep everyone safe and to prevent any further rituals—but in the end, that too had all been a manipulation. He told Tim how he and Jon had learned that Jonah Magnus had been operating through the successive heads of the Magnus Institute.

“So—Elias, then—”

“We never met him. Not really.”

“Ok—go on. So Jon came after you, and then what?”

“We left. We went as far away as we could get quickly.”

“You and Jon—together?”

Martin had left out some of the more personal details of the story, but Tim had read between the lines. Martin nodded.

“Fair enough. Go on.”

“Well—it wasn’t far enough. Jonah knew where we were—”

“Well, yeah—”

Martin sighed. “—and he used Jon to trigger an apocalypse. It turned out that everything Jon had been doing—all the avatars he’d confronted, all the things he’d done to try to save us, the rituals he’d been trying to stop—they’d all marked him. He’d been marked by every single entity, and Jonah used that to start an apocalypse. He unleashed all the fears.”

“What?”

“Like—the world ended. It was just fear. Everywhere. People were trapped in these domains and they couldn’t leave them and they just lived their fear. And the Eye—watched it all. Through Jonah.”

“What? I’m sorry, I just—”

“Literally the end of the world. I can’t really say it any differently. Like there was one where everything was on fire, and another one that was just a giant carousel but—well, never mind that—and oh god, once we had to jump off the side of a cliff—”

“All right, I’ll just—accept that, I guess?—I did not think that was where this was going—but ok, how did you say Jon started this exactly?”

“He didn’t. Jonah did.”

“Ok but—he used Jon—how?”

“He sent a statement. And Jon read it. He still needed to do that. Obviously we didn’t know it was from him—we thought Basira sent it—”

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah, well.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“I wasn’t there. Just—for a moment. I told you, they always had this way of—”

“Never mind. But I still don’t get it. You said this all happened. So… why are we here?”

“It didn’t happen here. It happened—I’m getting there.”

He skipped most of the journey through the apocalypse; he picked up again when they got back to London and reunited with Melanie and Georgie. He explained how they had found Jonah, and how Jon had realized he had the option to take over the apocalypse in Jonah’s place.

“And—what?” Tim asked. “End it?”

“No.” Martin shook his head. “He couldn’t do that. We weren’t sure what he could do exactly, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He could maybe—shift things around. Maybe make it not so bad for—for some people. For a while.” He deliberately didn’t explain exactly what that meant, and very deliberately left out the other option Jon had eventually arrived at.

“So—did he?”

“Not—not then. We didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on—that.”

Tim nodded.

Martin decided to skip some other details too. “Well—not long after, Annabelle Cane—”

“The—the spider person?”

“Yeah. She told us about another way. A way that we could end it. By—by letting the fears out.”

“Out? Out where?”

“There was a—a crack. A gap. Um—between dimensions. That place—where all this happened—it turns out it was just one of who knows how many realities.”

“Ok. Why would she tell you that, though? Didn’t they like it there?”

“She said—she said at the time that, eventually, that whole world was doomed. In the end, the—well, Death—the fear of Death—would kill everything, and the entities would remain alone with nothing left to—to feed them. And obviously she didn’t want that.”

“Oh.” Martin could see that the wheels in Tim’s head were starting to turn; he’d have to pick up the pace a little bit more if he wanted to tell it himself.

“So—we voted.”

“You voted.”

“Yeah. And we voted to let them out. To end it.”

“Right. Ok—makes sense, I guess, but—what did that mean? I guess you would get rid of them, but—then where would they go?”

Martin paused a moment. “We—we didn’t know. We talked about it a lot but in the end—we couldn’t know, and we knew the people in that place were suffering. And the other option was Jon taking over. Given that he couldn’t stop it, that didn’t seem like it should be a real option to—to most of us. Well, some of us.”

Tim glanced back in the direction of the bedroom. “I can see that. Ok—so you voted to let them out. Did you?”

Martin considered what he should say; he opted for the short version. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“And what happened? Did the apocalypse end?”

“Jon says it did.”

“What—what does that mean?”

“Jon and I—we—we ended up here.”

“Here? What do you mean?” Tim narrowed his eyes and looked hard at Martin.

“Jon and I ended up here. On the—in front of the Institute. And you found us. Eventually. After a couple of months, I’m guessing.”

Tim didn’t move for about thirty seconds, then his eyes went wide and he jumped up from the couch.

“No. No no no no—”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to the Jon and Martin that were here, then? Where did they—”

“We’re them, too. It’s really hard to—”

“Wait. Did they—the—fears, the entities, whatever you call them—did they come here too?”

“Yes.” Martin looked down at his feet.

“And that’s why all this—no. No. Did you—did you know? Did you know they would end up here?”

“I told you we didn’t.”

“You didn’t know what would happen and you all just decided to send them on out? Like a big goddamn gift to—to—”

“We didn’t know. And—” Martin took a breath. “We didn’t all decide that. Jon—Jon didn’t want to.”

“But he let you. And anyway, it doesn’t count if he only didn’t want to because he got to be some kind of—what, apocalypse god?”

“It wasn’t like that that.”

“All right, what was it like then? Explain.”

“He didn’t really want to do it. It was—he would have—”

“I would have ended it.” Martin on the couch, and Tim in front of it, both turned their head toward the hallway where Jon was now standing.

Tim answered faster than Martin could. “Martin said you couldn’t end it.”

“I couldn’t make it go away. There were other ways to end it.”

“Jon—”

“Don’t protect me, Martin. Not—like that.”

Martin looked at Tim’s face again; he was deep in thought.

“It was your decision, then?” he finally asked Jon.

“Yes.”

“Why did you let them out?”

Martin interrupted. “I told you, we voted, and—”

“Martin,” Jon said gently, and Martin stopped.

Tim waited.

“I tried to keep them there, but I didn’t—I didn’t plan for everything. And in the end, there were—sacrifices I wasn’t willing to make. That I still wouldn’t make.” He met Martin’s eyes, and Tim also turned slowly back to Martin.

“Jesus Christ.”

Martin continued to hold Jon’s eyes, but he could see Tim furiously typing into his phone next to him. For the first time ever, he vaguely wished that he could know what Jon was thinking. It would have almost been worth it.

“Jon—”

“It’s all right.” He was still speaking in the same soft voice. “It really is. It was time. But I am—I am going to have a cigarette.” Jon walked out to the balcony, and a few moments later the faint smell of smoke wafted in through the door. Everything felt like it had slowed down for Martin; Tim seemed able to move at an impossibly fast pace as he answered his phone and started shouting into it.

“Just—just come over here,” he was saying, as Martin began to make sense of his words. “No, you need to hear this from them, there’s no way I can—well if they’re closing the place, it sounds like you have to leave. No, just come straight here. Sasha—no, believe me, none of it matters. None of it. Just leave.”

He hung up his phone and looked blankly at Martin for a moment; he started to say something, but then shook his head and held out a finger toward Martin.

“No. No, there are some things I need to hear from him.” He started out toward the balcony, and Martin stood up.

“Tim—leave him alone. He’s—”

“It’s fine,” Jon called into the flat. “I’ll—I’ll talk to him. It’s ok.”

“Damn right, you’ll talk to me. I need to—” One of them closed the door to the balcony and Martin could only hear Tim’s general intonations; he could barely hear Jon at all. In a moment he gave up trying to listen, and sat down on the couch. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and tried not to have too many thoughts for the moment; he didn’t open them again until he heard an anxious knocking at the front door.

“Come in,” he shouted, and Sasha opened the door just wide enough to poke her head in; once she saw Martin, she walked in and closed it behind her.

“Tim said I should—” She stopped as she focused on Martin’s face over the back of the couch. “Martin, are you all right?”

“No,” he answered.

“Look, I’ve—” she came around to the other side of the couch and set her bag on the coffee table as she sat down. “They’ve closed the entire Institute while they’re investigating the—I just have no idea what to do right now. Tim called, and he’s been sending messages since then, but to be honest I don’t understand any of them. I’m lost.”

“Yeah.” Martin nodded, then dropped his forehead into his hand. “I just told Tim about—everything.”

“I gathered that,” Sasha said. “He seems—upset.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.”

“That’s him outside with Jon?”

“Yeah.”

“Hang on.” Sasha walked to the back door that led to the balcony and opened it. “Tim, I’m—”

“Oh god. Sasha. Oh shit.” Clearly whatever they had been discussing had not calmed Tim down at all. “We are so fucked.”

“Tim, I can see you are upset, but—”

“No. Upset does not even begin to describe what I am right now. I am—I am leaving. I need to leave.” He walked toward the front door.

Sasha started to follow him. “Tim—”

“Let him go,” Jon said.

“Fuck off,” Tim said, then turned to Martin. “You too. Screw both of you. Sasha, just—call. Call later.”

He left, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Sasha said, sighing. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but—”

“No,” Jon said, “he’s right to be angry.”

“Do you—think you can tell me whatever you told him?” Sasha asked.

“I can tell you,” Jon said, and then looked to Martin. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he said again. “How are you feeling? You were pretty out of it.”

“I’m—I’m all right, actually.” Jon took a seat next to Martin on the couch, and picked up his hand. “You don’t have to stay here for this. If you—”

“Yes, I do.”

Jon nodded. Sasha went to sit on the chair Martin had brought over earlier, and Martin protested. “No, Sasha—I can sit there—you can—”

“No, stay there.” Sasha smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine here.”

It wasn’t quite like listening to a statement—Martin could have interrupted if he’d wanted to—but Jon’s voice held that same contradictory combination of emotion and detachment it always had when he’d been reading a statement. The end result was that he seemed to explain everything twice as well in half the time that Martin had, and Sasha had remained drawn in and silent until the end.

“Tim should have heard it from you,” Martin mumbled, while Sasha took a moment.

“No,” Jon said. “I think—I think Tim needed to hear it from you, actually.”

Martin started to ask him what he meant, but Sasha broke her silence.

“So—now what?”

“Wait,” Martin said. “Aren’t you mad?”

“I’m—” Sasha considered. She looked tired, maybe in shock, but not angry. “I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, this—sucks—but… I don’t know. What would I have done? I mean—” She laughed awkwardly. “I guess I would have died—”

Martin flinched.

“No—no, I’m sorry. I just meant—I really don’t know how to deal with this—there weren’t any right answers, were there?”

“If there were, I never chose them.” Jon absentmindedly reached for Martin’s hand again, and looked at him briefly when Martin held on to it harder than expected.

“I mean, I know why Tim’s angry,” Sasha continued. “But in the end, you—you really did save all those people.”

“I’m not sure I’d say—”

“But you did,” Sasha said. “Yes, they went through something awful, and I’m sure they were worse for it, but—their lives still had value. They still wanted to live, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Martin said.

“And here—I know it’s already cost a lot—but we still have a chance. Don’t we?”

Neither of them answered her.

“Fine, but—I have to believe we do,” Sasha said. “I mean, Jon—even the—the Eye—it can’t see into other dimensions, right? And the Web probably—probably didn’t really anticipate all of this, right?”

“No,” Jon said. “It doesn’t work like that. At least not for the Eye.”

“So maybe—just maybe—things are different enough here that—I need to think.” Sasha pressed her knuckles to her mouth for a moment. “Jon, I imagine you still have some—influence over this situation?”

Martin looked at him, and Jon nodded. “Some. Yes.”

“How exactly do you plan on using it?”

“I don’t know,” Jon replied. “One way or another, I don’t—I need to make sure they don’t get out again.”

“Understood.” Sasha continued to press her hand to her mouth. “But we have time, right? Some, at least?”

Jon nodded again. “Yes. Of—of course.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“All right. Give me—give me a day or so just to—to really absorb all this. Then we’ll talk it out. Tim—oh, hang on.” She checked her phone, and scrolled down through a few messages that had gone unchecked while she’d been listening to Jon. “He says he’s going to visit Danny.”

“Good,” Jon said.

“Anyway, he’ll come around.” She thought a little bit more. “And I guess we should tell Melanie, and—and Elias.”

Jon stiffened. “Do you really think he—”

“After what he went through today, he—he deserves to know.”

Jon didn’t exactly relax. “Yes, fine. All right.”

“Will you two be all right if I go? Just—like I said, to gather my thoughts?”

For some reason they were both looking at Martin.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be all right.”

“I’m glad you told us,” Sasha said, standing to grab her bag from the table. “I know that took a lot. And Tim—he really will come around.”

Jon walked with her over to the door and she said something quietly that Martin couldn't hear; then she left, and Martin crumbled into the couch.

***

“Come to bed.”

Martin, who had been doing his best to bury himself between the cushions and the back of the couch ever since Sasha left, turned over to face Jon. “I can sleep out here tonight, if you want.”

Jon knelt to be at eye level with him. “Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know.”

Jon sighed and crossed his legs to sit on the floor. “Martin—what did you think would happen when we told them?”

“I don’t—I mean, of course Tim is mad, but—Ok, I guess I really wasn’t actually thinking about how they would react at all. I just thought it would be better to have it out. That it would feel better.”

“Does it?”

“Obviously not.”

Jon nodded, and reached out to touch Martin’s face. His touch was comforting, which Martin had somehow not been expecting.

“I mean, Tim was bad—but at least it felt—”

“It felt right. That he was angry.”

“Maybe. It’s just that when I was telling it to him, and I was hearing myself say it—I’d really forgotten how bad it was. I mean, I hadn’t forgotten, but—I guess I’m not living it anymore. And that’s not fair. It’s not fair to the other Sasha and the other Tim and everyone else we left behind. I just guess I feel—”

“Guilty.”

“Hm.” Martin closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Jon’s hand. “And then Sasha—it’s like she just didn’t get it. I mean, no—I think she got it. She heard all of it and I think she believed it, but she should have been angry? At least—a little.”

“She still might be. They both have a lot to process.”

“Sure, but—she was so optimistic. She just doesn’t know. She never felt—”

“She just said what you’ve said.”

“I know. And when I heard her say it—it made me wonder if that’s how you think about me when I… I mean—we were both there, but you went through so much more than I did. I felt—I felt sorry for her.”

“Martin,” Jon said, “I have never once felt sorry for you. Worried, or—or sad, or—but no, never pity.”

Martin opened his eyes to look at Jon again.

“Are you mad that I told them?”

“No. I told you I understood. It was time.”

Martin sat up, and Jon moved to sit next to him.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“Go to bed,” Jon answered.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Jon touched his leg. “We let Sasha think. She tells Melanie and Georgie and—Elias, and Tim makes up his mind about what he wants to do.”

“And then what?”

“We talk.”

“Jon—” Martin sighed. “I don’t want to push, but—how does this all end up different from before?”

Jon pulled his hand back. “I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t.”

They sat a little while longer, until Jon stood up and held a hand out for Martin. “Let’s go to bed.”

“All right.”

“Wait,” Jon said, after Martin got up. “Would you—would you eat something first? I didn’t want to interrupt you earlier. I thought you could use a moment.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You know, Martin—you are a bit of a hypocrite.”

“Yeah, I know.” He put his arm around Jon’s shoulders and kissed his head, and was briefly pulled back in his memories to the day he’d cut his hair for him. That was all he wanted; just that—or, well, a future where some days got to be like that one.

Why was that so much to ask for?

“But I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jon answered.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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supercalvin · 4 years

Note

Hii! About the prompts: Merlin is some sort of royal, may be a crowned prince or king in Victorian era ( or another historical era) and Lancelot is his 'bodyguard' and the trope is Presumed dead ( may be platonic or romantic) Or Merthur 14 R ( 1920s and In Vino Veritas) Thank you!!

¿Porqué no los dos? I’m going to write the first one on this post, but look out for a second post with the 1920s AU! By the way, this AU you just pitched is absolutely wild and I’m so in support of it.

Royal!Merlin + Boyguard!Lancelot + Victorian Era + Presumed Dead

Prompts (or any prompt) + Ficlets

***

Arthur’s valet was just buttoning up his cufflinks when there was a knock at the door. Leon entered, not waiting like he usually did for George to open the door for him.

Arthur raised a brow at his head advisor, “Leon.”

“Your Majesty,” He gave a quick bow, “I have urgent news.”

“What’s happened?”

“There was an attack last night.”

Arthur’s heart beat hard in his chest. Arthur’s mind was already thinking of sending a militia and which members of Camelot’s parliament needed to be alerted immediately.

Leon shook his head as if he knew Arthur’s thoughts, “Not in Camelot, sire. There was… Someone infiltrated the Avalon Royal Palace during a Druid meeting and the council chambers were set on fire. Half the palace was burned to the ground before it was put out.”

Arthur felt lightheaded, his vision going white briefly.

“Most of the staff made it out unharmed. King Balinor was badly injured but he and his wife survived.”

Arthur swallowed, closing his eyes and trying to stop the bile from rising in his throat. “The prince?”

Leon paused for too long, but Arthur wasn’t sure if it was just the ringing in his ears.

“Leon,” Arthur bit out.

“Prince Merlin has not been accounted for.”

Arthur felt his knees go weak and he had to grab onto his bedpost to keep his balance.

“Send a messenger,” Arthur heard himself say, though it sounded distant.

“I sent our fastest man to get the truth of it as soon as I heard,” Leon said, sounding apologetic, “He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Arthur was in a daze. Thankfully Leon had enough foresight to cancel all of his appointments, making the excuse that Arthur’s personal guard was concerned about more attacks. Arthur couldn’t care less at the moment. He could barely speak or eat. Morris, the prince’s personal servant, confirmed that the Prince had been present in the Druid meeting, as he had recently been instated as Emrys, the Druid spiritual leader. Most newspapers speculated that the Prince had died in the blaze, despite the fact that his body had yet to be found.

Three days later, Camelot’s messenger returned from Avalon. It only took the messenger a few minutes to be escorted to the audience hall, but in that time Arthur had paced and paced and paced. It could have been hours and he wouldn’t have noticed. He could barely stand still as the man entered the audience hall.

He didn’t really remember what the messenger said. It didn’t matter what order the words came in. The message was clear. The prince’s body had been found in the burned remainder of the council chambers. The messenger handed the King a burned piece of cloth. It was royal blue with silver embroidery. How many times had Arthur seen Merlin wearing it? Lady Hunith had embroidered it for him when he was crowned Avalon’s Prince and he wore it at all formal occasions.

Later Arthur had been told that the messenger was sworn to secrecy. He wasn’t to tell a soul that he had seen the king collapse back into his throne. Or that he heard a sob rise from his monarch’s chest as he clenched the burnt scrap in his hand. He was never to tell a soul that the King had whispered out the Prince’s name, so familiar on his lips anyone who heard it would know it had been a lover’s name. It didn’t matter. The messenger wouldn’t have had the words to describe the look of anguish on the King’s face or the sorrow in his voice.

The newspapers published news of the Prince’s death the following day. King Balinor and his wife announced the funeral on the day after that.

Arthur was in a daze. He kept to his chambers and Leon continued making his excuses, spreading the rumor that the guard feared more attacks.

Arthur spent most of the time in bed, staring at an empty space on his pillow. Only a few months ago that space had been occupied by a young prince with a mischievous smile. They so rarely had opportunities for nights together. Diplomatic visits were often crowded affairs. Any time alone with the Prince was brief and rare. Any time alone with no one watching was even rarer. Scattered across the months, there were nights when the King of Camelot was visiting a border town or the Prince of Avalon was sent to Camelot as a diplomatic envoy. Those nights were cherished.

There had been one night Arthur remembered every word. Merlin had promised his heart to Arthur. Despite all the obstacles. Despite the fact that Camelot and Avalon had been enemies only a generation before. Despite the fact that Merlin had enough to worry about, between being both Prince and Emrys. Despite it all, he had promised to be by Arthur’s side. Merlin had kissed him and held him close, as if all the risk was worth it.

On the seventh day, Leon entered his chambers and pulled his King from bed, no words spoken as he fulfilled the duties of a valet rather than a royal advisor. He buttoned Arthur’s shirt, and pulled a cardigan over his shoulders.

“Your majesty, there are people who wish to speak with you.” His voice was soft and apologetic, “I have held them off for as long as I could.”

Arthur nodded, “Thank you, Leon.” He brushed back his hair, aware that his hand was shaking. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Life went on, even if Arthur felt like his soul had been drained from him. Everyone noticed, but no one said anything. It was clear there had been a deeper relationship between the King and the foreign Prince than anyone had originally thought, but no one would dare point it out now.

Two weeks passed in a blur. To Arthur they felt like ages and only minutes at the same time.

It was the first night since the attack that Arthur had joined his court and advisors for dinner. Although unusually quiet, the dinner had gone well.

At the end of the last course, Leon entered the hall and lent down to speak into the King’s ear, “Your majesty, you are needed in the kitchens.”

Arthur’s brow pinched and normally he would have questioned it, but lately he had found it hard to speak. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening or he didn’t understand. He just couldn’t find the energy to open his mouth. An odd side effect of his grief.

Arthur followed Leon without a word.

What he found in the kitchens was a room of servants who were standing idle. Arthur hadn’t been to the kitchens much. Not since he was a boy and the cook had taken a liking to him, giving him sweets when he was good. But the kitchens were rarely idle. There seemed to be fewer servants too, and as soon as Arthur entered the main room, Leon dismissed the rest of them.

On the center table, where there should have been pots and pans, there were two cloaked figures. One was lying prone on the table while the other was hovering over him. At the King’s arrival the second figure looked up, his hood falling to his shoulders.

“Your majesty,” he bowed deeply, as he always had, far more respectful than his liege had ever been.

“Sir Lancelot,” Arthur said, surprised by his own voice.

“I’m sorry for trespassing, your majesty. We were desperate.”

Arthur’s eyes landed on the figure laid out on the table, wrapped in a thick cloak and face covered by a woolen scarf. The body was long and thin, but it was breathing. Shakily, but breathing.

Arthur stepped forward, his vision narrowing as he moved past Lancelot.

“I told him it wasn’t safe for either of you to bring him here, but he wouldn’t see reason.”

Arthur’s hands reacted before his mind could. He pulled back the scarf, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the fabric.

Merlin’s left eye was swollen shut with the burns. There was a wound on his jaw held together with quick and messy stitches. When Arthur moved the scarf, Merlin’s right eye opened and his lips twitched with a small smile.

“So Lance didn’t throw me into the gutter after all,” The Prince’s voice was rough. He was obviously exhausted, but there was little in this world that would make him lose his sense of humor. “He threatened it a few times.”

Arthur let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. He hung his head, gripping Merlin’s cloak in tight fists. A bandaged hand came up to his cheek. Arthur could barely see him through his tears, but he turned his face to the hand, holding it to his face with desperate hands.

Over his shoulder Lancelot said, “I was just outside the room when the attack happened so I was able to sneak him out before Aredian could react. He has been hunting us ever since. The safe house was compromised tonight and Merlin insisted we come to you.”

Arthur took in the words but his eyes were on Merlin, cataloguing his injuries and all the signs that he was real.

“Arthur, it’s alright,” Merlin whispered, obviously weak and badly injured, but still smiling for Arthur’s sake. “I’m here. I’m alright, I promise.” Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s palm.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Arthur’s voice shook, tears falling on Merlin’s scarf below him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get word to you,” Merlin said.

Arthur shook his head, “It doesn’t matter now.” He pressed a kiss to Merlin’s chapped lips, barely able to kiss him as the sobs overtook him. Merlin tried to wrap an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, but it was clear that his strength was leaving him and he would be unconscious soon.

“Leon,” Arthur had to swallow and regain his breath. “Call for Gaius. Direct him to my rooms. Tell my guests I’ve a headache and to continue dinner without me. Lance, help me carry him.”

Leon left with a quick bow and Lance was on Merlin’s other side in an instant.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was thin.

“Gaius will be here soon. You’ll be alright,” Arthur said, touching Merlin’s face with a gentle hand.

“I promised,” Merlin whispered, his voice trailing off.

“And I’ll hold you to that promise, love,” Arthur said firmly, “Always.”

Merlin smiled briefly before his eye closed and his face went slack.

“Rest,” He pressed his lips to Merlin’s brow. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

***

Prompts (or any prompt) + Ficlets

#merlin #merthur #merlin fic #ficlets #eldingoringo

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