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astriefer · 3 years

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Let Me Kiss Your Bleedings Goodbye / Look Around And See How Much You Are Loved

Summary: Alastair just wants to listen to music in his room, but the world won't have it.

Word count: 5718

Warnings: alcohol, implied mental abuse, manipulation, toxic relationships, cursing, mentioned alcoholism, neglect, negative thoughts.

@littlx-songbxrd that one is for your birthday! You chose angst the other day so I just rolled with it-

Happy birthday!! You're an amazing, creative,talented and such a special friend! I'm glad I got to meet you ^-^

All Alastair asked for was to listen to music on his phone and mind his own business. But of course, the fates weren't happy unless Alastair has had a shitty day.

Cordelia knocked on his door politely. "Alastair?"

It was Saturday, so she had no reason to bother him. Lunch had already been served, and she was about to go out with her friends. So why come bother him now?

He made no move to unlock the door, and his annoying little sister repeated, "Alastair!"

She started to slam her fists at the door like some sort of a madwoman, and Alastair groaned and tore himself from his bed. "What?" he hissed as his bedroom door flew wide open.

"Mâmân wants you downstairs," Cordelia answered, backing away slightly. If she heeded Alastairs's pissed mood, good. She interrupted in the middle of his favorite song. The call of reason would say it was because they were almost nose to nose, and she was repulsed of his closeness as any other sibling would, but he liked the first option better.

"And that you couldn't tell me through the door because?" he snarled, and Cordelia rolled her eyes. He glanced at her and noticed what she wore - one of her favorites clothes Lucie picked up for her a few months ago. He arched a perfect eyebrow at his sister."Is there some special occasion?"

Cordelia's cheeks flushed red, and she decisively didn't meet his eyes. "It's nothing. Just going out with some-- That's none of your business. You're so irking. Oof."

She exchanged to the annoyed-sibling-defense-system mid-sentence. It was Alastair's turn to roll his eyes so he didn't waste it. "Whatever. Go play dolls with Lucie." Closing the door behind him, he ambled down the staircase to the ground floor, ignoring his sister's protest.

He entered the drawing-room, which he found deserted. All that laid there were a few magazines Cordelia left on the table and an empty cup of coffee. He didn't stall to wonder who besides him drank coffee in the house since his mother was pregnant - and it was unhealthy for the baby - and Cordelia didn't like it. He headed to the dining room, finding his mother seated on one of the dinner table's seats. In front of her, seemingly a pristine-white unopened letter.

"Dearling," Sona smiled at her son, the light not reaching her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he answered. He perched on the chair next to hers and took one of the pastries Risa brought the previous day that laid in a basket. She would occasionally check on Sona and them. Their aunt had assisted them in any possible way was able to in the past few months. And even before that, she volunteered to do things Alastair wished she wouldn't. She once contacted James Herondale, Cordelia's boyfriend, to give him the talk . It was hilarious as much as it was terrifying because while Risa picked fundamental English words, she had him by the arm to help her translate. And Holly Lord in the sky, he couldn't look James in the face for a month.

Sona just studied him for a few moments, before her features softened. "You always so self-reliant." she shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't need your mother to nag you."

Alastair inclined toward her, squinting. "Mom, I never said that."

"You seem peeved at me," she adjusted her deep green roosari - it matched the wide yellow and green dress she wore - before resting her eyes on the letter. "I would think it has something to do with puberty if I didn't have a second teenager in the house."

"I'm not angry at you." Alastair scoffed.

"Alright," Sona said.

"Are Cordelia and I in a competition of who is the worst teenager? Well - at least I'm on the lead. Cordelia should level up her game."

"Dear, it's not it," Sona lifted both her hands, like in a plea, before she dropped them on the table again. Alastair noted her eyes wandered around the room - deviated from how she usually behaved - and suspected he was going to be apprised of some news.

Brows furrowed, he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well-" she rubbed at her eyes, and Alastair noticed - not for the first time - the dark circles around his mother's eyes. Does he keep you awake at night? He wished to ask in worse days, to see if it hurt her as much as it hurt him. Or is he haunting you with nightmares?

Alastair long knew the figure Elias is in Cordelia and Sona's dreams is of some immaculate hero. One with kind eyes, a guiding beacon, a loving man. In their dreams, he would outstretch a comforting hand and still be young and caring. He's the best version of himself, a father and a husband that loves them. He is also the man that dwelled in his most horrifying nightmares - A drunk, nothing more. He was swigging vodka by the bar, with cold eyes and tousled white hair. This version of his father, he knew, would call him a brat, would complain about his mother pestering him to visit rehab. His father would hug his bottle and glance at him as if he was a nuisance to get rid of, and he would close his eyes and wish to be elsewhere. But he's small again, and just wants his father to leave the bottle to hug him goodnight, tucked safely under the blankets. But his father wouldn't come.

Was it foolish his heart still stung whenever he came across this truth?

She cut the pleasantries and readied herself. "Your father's lawyer declared he wouldn't waive the trial," Sona conceded, her shoulders sagged. His mother laid a protective hand on her belly, where Alastair's sibling has been growing in her womb for the past few months. "A letter was dispatched."

It was all it had to take to ruin his day. He barely had the restraint to not leap on feet and scream at the cursed photo of his father, hung on one of the walls. Before it was all revealed, before it exploded in their face, and far before Cordelia became aware of their father's afflict, they used to do it often. To talk about what they would do next. How to protect Cordelia, how to help Elias, how to hide the appalling secret of their family their best. Now they did it for an entirely different reason.

Up to a few months ago, they were still a picture of a family in a broken frame. When the court exonerated Elias from any blame, they reunited and returned to posture like they always had been. Act, because that is all they could do. However, upon Elias's trial, Cordelia discovered the truth. Alastair was so exhausted from hiding it, he didn't perceive it until he let the lie collapse. He had blamed himself, he still did, but it changed nothing from the fact Cordelia knew about their father now.

She knew, and she was livid. At Alastair, at their mother and father, at the world. After all, she lived a lie. Who could have blamed her?

It was that day he confessed to her in a shaken voice the utter truth and let the wall between them succumb and burn to ashes. When he looked her in the eyes then, he saw the light in her eyes dimming, reality striking, the way he desires it never would. All those years he kept her safe from Elias were in vain. Although he received his sister back into his life, there was little Alastair could do but blame himself for shattering the delicate reality they threaded around her, the needless pain he caused her. She needed to comprehend, he told himself, what was behind the mask her father put in front of the world.

But if he never wanted to tell her, did it still count?

And his mother. She looked stiff, if not a bit tired. She held herself straight and proud, yet it was useless. Because what could she do? What either of them could do?

"He accuses me of Parental Alienation," Sona went on, caressing her belly delicately. She peeked at the letter again, and Alastair did as well. Now he realized the sign on the letter, and the fact it seemed unopened but in fact was. "The court is checking out at his claims."

Alastair exhaled through the nose, rocking his leg in rage. "That's nonsense. He's irresponsible alcoholism that can't take care of himself. He was tipsy on the day of the trial! Any feeling we have toward him, it's his own making." Throughout the very beginning of sending the Divorce Complaint to court, Elias had refused to accept he was divorcing. Alastair was awfully aware his father wanted custody over them, and he fought with all his unmighty power to prevent it. When he imagined his younger siblings suffering a fraction of his father's attitude, his nerves set on fire. He was aware his mother fought teeth and nails to proceed in this divorce even without this additional claim.

And Alastair was even more aware they barely had had the money to pay for this.

"What does he want?" Alastair growled. "He knows we don't have that money! He doesn't have the money to pay for this prosecution either!" His father, being put in jail, fired from his job, and wasting their money on wine, probably couldn't even provide Child Support.

"I thought it was going so well," Sona returned his stare, kind and calm. The giving sign she was upset was that rustling sound her roosari made when she fixed it restlessly.

"And Cordelia?" he made to quiet himself on the spot. He spoke in something similar to a whisper. "Bloody hell, she's upstairs. How can we tell her?"

"Language," she warned, then reached and rested her hand on his comfortingly. "She already knows."

He whipped his head in her direction. His mother didn't bat an eyelash. He managed only to let a strangled "What?" escape his mouth. He couldn't wound his mind around it. The father Cordelia looked up to betrayed her, over and over again.

His mother closed her eyes. Maybe she couldn't look at his desperate, fumed face any longer. "She was the one to fetch the letter from the post." Alastair held himself from swearing again and rose to his feet. It's good his mother didn't look at him - he wasn't sure he could look at her either. He was trembling with agitation, his vision red.

"He can't do that. He can't- get to win. Not after all the pain we've been through because of him. That's not fair. That's not fair." He was breathing hard.

"He wouldn't. Alastair, dear, look at me."

Her words were veracious, so was her voice. He couldn't manage himself to do as she said.

"Joonam-"

"I'm going for a walk." He declared strongly, hastily. "I need to chill out. Go and rest, Mother. You shouldn't work yourself out."

And with that, he took his leave. He ignored his mother calling him from behind. He brought no chattel but himself and whatever he bore that instant as he closed the door behind him and rushed down the street to disappear among the many passersby of London. Before even thinking about it, his phone was out, and he typed feverishly and pressed send without waiting to reread his text. He tucked his phone back into his trouser's pocket and took a deep breath.

His father wouldn't desist from haunting him, no matter how much he prayed it to come to an end. When his mother announced she wants a divorce, he - not lacking guilt - felt glad. Each day home was a misery. His mother was confined to bed, his father trailed the streets as if he didn't return from rehab just a month before. And this life was a cage he longed to escape, to set free from the crushing weight on his heart.

His father-

He came to a halt in the middle of the street, letting his head fall all the way back with closed eyes. He wanted to punch a wall or lash out at someone. When he talked with Jem the other day, his cousin told him bottling things inside would only result in a breakdown. He recommended he contact a person he trusted when it all felt too much for Alastair to bear.

Perhaps he should...

No. he shook as head, trying to toss this idea into an imaginary dump bin. There's no need. A nice, solitary stroll is a splendid solution. Alastair needn't anyone to look at his back worriedly like some ailing lost kitten. He didn't need it. He can be fine if he simply composed himself.

He let his legs carry him mindlessly, losing himself in his thoughts. He walked, and walked, and walked. It was a great aid to clear his mind. Even in a crowded London street in the afternoon, he felt the tight cloud of thoughts loosening around his mind. Not for long, however.

He walked near a club - a club he knew very well, but not because of his father. And in the entrance stood a freckled figure, with silken ginger hair and piercing green eyes.

The sight of his ex-boyfriend was enough to startle Alastair out of his thought. They locked eyes, and Alastair nearly lost his footing. Charles blurted something to whomever he was talking to and advanced toward the dark-haired boy. Alastair felt himself go stiff as if he prepared for a hit. Swiftly, he considered turning around and flee, and just as he was about to put this thought into effect, he felt a hand seizing his forearm. While Collecting his confidence, he turned to give Charles a blank glare.

"Alastair." greeted the older boy. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Why did his voice sound hoarse? "Let go of me," Alastair demanded.

Charles's grip on his dark skin did not weaken. It felt warm even though there had been a layer of cloth between them. Alastair attempted to break free, however Charles pressed his hand harder, not enabling Alastair to move. "Come."

And so Alastair was led by his redhead ex-partner to an alley, hidden from any of Charles's companions. Alastair had the sudden urge to laugh - still so furtive. Still so abashed. Charles shoved him into the alley, blocking his way out with his body. "Alastair. I haven't seen you in a long time."

However mad he felt, his voice came out calm. Cold. Indifferent. Like he practiced in front of a mirror when he was small. "That was the point of breaking up with you," he retorted evenly.

Charles ignored his remark. "You haven't answered any of my texts, nor my calls. I ought to speak with you."

A lump rose in his throat. "I can't fathom anything to be said to matter."

He dug his nails in his palm, then understood he'd been doing it and forced himself to relax. Charles had no authority over him. He couldn't reach him now. Yet, it felt far away when Charles studied him like a very interesting political certificate. He hesitated before lifting his hand to touch Alastair's cheek tenderly. Alastair, in turn, backed away. Which was a difficult talk considering Charles still held his hand around his forearm.

"Unhand me," Alastair almost spat. He felt his own shield build up. "Do you want any of your colleagues to see you so close to a man?" The dark-eyed boy knew it would work. Charles always aspired to appear pivotal, even when it was clearly pretentious of his side. Charles's grip loosened him and Alastair hastily put distance between them. Charles gave him a look - one Alastair could only describe as wistful.

"Had I known what I did wrong to make you stop caring for me, I would have made sure to keep you closer to me," Charles said softly.

At first, it sounded almost sweet. Almost. Rather rapidly it turned disgusting as the words sank. Keep you closer, toughen the chains, tell lies to a love-famished soul.

He felt fire spreading in his stomach. Not the good sort of fire - but the kind that consumes everything it touches, that destroys and demolishes and injures. "You didn't know?" Alastair's voice quivered as he spoke, barely tamed anger in every syllable. "Shucks, so what could tell? What could tell you did something wrong when I told you I was upset you were with Ariadne? And later on, when you went and pushed your tongue into Grace's mouth in front of my eyes to make everyone believe you're straight? Or perhaps that whenever I expressed any feeling that wasn't gratitude you grace me with your presence, you said I'm overreacting? "

Charles straightened. "I wasn't bad to you. I tried to give you everything I could."

"Damnit, Charles, not today," Alastair whirled in his place, his words hot and sharp. "That's not on you to decide if you were bad or good to me! You have no right to decide for me. You gave me what you thought would be enough so I won't talk, and I was a boy desperate to be loved." He exhaled slowly. "So no, Charles. You weren't good for me at all."

"You wanted me to out myself for you when I wasn't ready?"

He was never going to be ready, Alastair thought. "If you think I was upset with you because you weren't out, you don't know me at all." A mirthless laugh slipped Alastair's lips. Did Charles even listen to him?

"Don't say that." Charles objected. "I know you better than anyone else. You know that too." he huffed and loosened his tie. "No, that's not it. Do you not love me anymore?"

It was ridiculous. "No, Charles, I don't." The smell hit his nostrils, and the realization dawned on him. Charles's mouth stank from Alcohol, despite not smelling it on his clothes at all.

Ah.

"You're drunk," Alastair condemned. It was almost an accusation, spoke so offhandedly. But he truly didn't care enough for it to be an accusation.

"I drank only a drink or two." Charles dismissed, and he looked so ugly at that moment, Alastair wanted to flee from his presence. "If you didn't want me, don't blame me for why this relationship broke apart. I try to make things right."

It was comedic to watch Charles exculpate himself and put the blame on Alastair, had it been another day. Now, it only pissed Alastair furthermore.

"Stay away from me," his words sounded like acid in his ears. "I am not fond of drunks. Or ex-boyfriends. And you seem to be both."

Charles made a comical face, one in another day Alasair might laugh at. Distantly, he realized now why Cordelia and Sona were so reluctant to break him the news. When it came to this case, and to his father, Alastair was always on his toes. He is still too easily riled by the words and deeds of others sometimes. When he had to tell the court about his deeds revolving around his father - the late-night walks outside to pubs, the frequent help; the fear someone would find out - he poured all of his being to try and help his family. Defend them from Elias. But seemingly it had no use, and all Alastair was left with is his contempt with nowhere to pour it into. It slipped from the cracks of his armor like Lava.

He passed Charles, who no longer blocked the alley, and Charles perked up and said, "We haven't finished talking."

His phone buzzed repeatedly, signaling Kamala had received his previous message. "We are done," Alastair growled, loud. These green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. To shush him, most probably. However, blood boiled in his ears and his words demanded to be heard. "Unassuming, quiet, dark," Alastair snapped. "A bloody puppet, that's what you want. And I refuse to be your puppet any longer. What is in my words unclear to you? Stay. Away. Should I spell it for you?"

Charles glanced at the sides nervously, looking for leery eyes even though there were none. Alastair couldn't believe it. Charles still tried to subdue him. It made him smirk ruthlessly at the older boy. "But you can't take no for an answer, do you? You think you deserve everything."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," The redhead scoffed, squinting at him. "If you're angry at something, don't take it on me."

"Oh, I will do whatever I want to do," His grin widened viciously." All I do is tell you exactly what I think of you. Does it hurt your white-man-superiority complex?" he mocked with a false sad nod. "Too bad."

His phone started to ring, and he could already tell it was Kamala, worried about what he told her. She was straightforward when she told him once to never hesitate to call her if her help is required. In some of his worst days, it was his best friend that contributed to preventing him from knocking his head in a wall. Moreover, Alastair told Kamala everything about the lawsuit and what they'd been through - the Carstairs saw her like family - and she was nothing but understanding. It took every gram of control in Alastair's body to clasp his phone and say, "I must go."

He didn't wait for an answer.

His phone went quiet in his hand. He pressed a few buttons and gripped the phone close to his ear.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Our place," Alastair's voice was strained. It felt like it came out from far, far away. "Now."

With adrenaline still driving through his system, he headed to his hideout. When life would be too much, he used to wander around town or find his escape in the calm of nature. And if this meant hunkering down next to a fence in Hyde Park, that's his business alone.

His phone raged up, and he felt stable enough to answer. The first thing Kamala said over the call was, "Love, I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Alastair mumbled darkly. "Me too."

Eventually, they hung up, and he sat on the ground, so his legs were against his chest and his arms surrounding them. For however long it'd been, he rested his head on the fence and let his overloaded mind take a break. When it didn't work and his head still throbbed, Alastair kicked at the ground in frustration, raising a cloud of dust. Then he sounded the low noise of feet against the sand, and a long figure climbed the fence he leaned on.

He stared at what Thomas was securing at his hands before he made a noise of annoyance. "Hell with this," he reached his hand, "Bring it over."

He grasped the can of beer, opening it with a loud pssh-pop! The can was cold in his hand, as if fresh from the store, and he took a sip. Then he lowered the can, revealing again the image of Thomas in a hoodie and pajama pants. He looked like he put random combination clothes and went outside, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Alastair didn't have the power to hum appreciatively.

"You sounded like you were crashed by a motorcycle, and then was chewed by the cats and dogs of the neighborhood," Thomas offered. "Thought you might need it."

"No shit," Alastair mumbled. "Thanks." He cradled it to his chest and looked away. Thomas looked a bit worried, but he said no words. As silence as a cat - no, Thomas was better described as a tiger - he went and sat next to Alastair. He opened his own beer can, gulping the drink in big sips.

Alastair had not opened his mouth, and Thomas didn't pressure him. For long moments that stretched even longer than they should, none of them uttered a word. They set together, side by side, surrounded by trees and leaves and the sun sinking from the west. With a big 'Ugh', Alastair dipped his head and slipped into Thomas's arms.

"I don't want you embroiled in this," Alastair murmured, not moving as Thomas started tracing circles on his arm.

Thomas sighed softly, resting his chin on top of Alastair's head, not before he planted a kiss on the line of his hair. "Alright. But you know you can tell me whatever you want, yes?"

"I do," Alastair fell silent for a few seconds. His cheek was against Thomas's pulse point, where he found himself calming down with its steady beat. "I met Charles today."

"Charles?" at this sole word Thomas went rigid, ultimately relaxing as Alastair captured the hand on his arm and intertwined their fingers. "What has happened?"

"Nothing," Alastair answered and he knew without looking Thomas had his adorable face twisted in bewilderment. Therefore he added, reluctantly, "The usual."

Thomas moved to eye him suspiciously, but Alastair's head was still tucked under Thomas's chin. "I wouldn't think you call me if it was nothing."

"I call you for all sort of things. It doesn't have to be because my toxic ex is a dipshit."

"It feels like a low bar."

Alastair chuckled. "It really is."

Silence ensued and the presence of his boyfriend made everything brighter. Later at night, he would wonder how one man could make it so much better, yet now he just felt blessed to have Thomas by his side. A few minutes passed with Alastair closing his eyes and melting into Thomas's hug, while Thomas stroked his back comfortingly.

"Alastair?"

"Mhh."

"Alastair. "

He dug his fingers at the cool ground, taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. "What?"

He pushed Alastair back gently, and the short boy complied so they were face to face. "Are you alright?"

His dark eyes refused to meet with Thomas's hazel ones. There had been a quiet, "I'm not sure."

Thomas picked at a loose string of his hoodie, and Alastair made a mental note to steal his boyfriend's hoodie and sew it. He sat next to Thomas and reached for the beer, gulping the content of the can. He turned to Thomas, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He furrowed his brows when his boyfriend looked at him oddly, but it soon disappeared from Thomas's face.

Alastair fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and his eyes were yet low on the ground. He sounded rustling by his side and glanced at his boyfriend as he took off his hoodie. Alastair cocked his eyebrow, and Thomas huffed at him with flushed cheeks. He handed him the hoodie. "You - might be cold. It's rather late, and you wear nothing but a T-shirt."

He scanned Thomas's underneath jumper and deemed it not much warming. "And you?"

"I am big, I make a lot of heat. Cellular respiration and all that."

Alastair snorted, shaking his head. "You daft med student."

He found solace in the warm hug of his boyfriend. And wearing his hoodie was almost the same, although he missed the heat. Yet, it was soft and familiar and all Thomas. His smell was enticing to Alastair, and he put it on and sniffed it -indistinguishably - even if Thomas was just a few inches away.

As the sun set, it tinted the forest around them orange.

"You're doing the thing," Alastair commented, causing Thomas to blink.

"The what?" the tall boy asked.

"The thing. That you do." he poked Thomas's side. "You get all pensive and thoughtful and furrows your brows in that adorable way of yours. You caress your rose compass tattoo."

Thomas gave him a slight smile. "Genie has been ecstatic ever since Kamala agreed to join our family trip. I'm afraid my father is going to ask you himself if I won't."

"Ah."

"It's a bad timing, though," Thomas cackled nervously. "Sorry, never mind."

"That's fine, I don't care," Alastair said. "What family trip?"

"We thought to visit mom's country last year, but this year we want to visit some rural parts of England. Uncle Will keeps telling us how visiting North Wells, where his family lived. Eugenia keeps threatening to steal my sweets."

"She certainly would still all your snacks," Alastair speculated. He flapped mindlessly the sleeves of Thomas's hoodie to himself, which were too long for him. Thomas sent him a soft side smile.

"She will," agreed Thomas in false despair, resting his head on the fetch they leaned on. "She's like some sort of sweets monster. The only way to calm her down is to sacrifice our food."

"I know," was Alastair's response. "She's my friend. My very own short chaotic, havoc-causing, maniac goblin friend." It startled a laugh out of Thomas, and he went to rest his hand on Alastair's knee.

"Dad keeps joking he will cancel the trip if not all of the honorary lightwoods join as well. But honestly, I'm not sure he's joking any longer."

"Honorary Lightwoods?"

"He adopted y'all the moment you steeped a foot into our house. You know that." Thomas's voice sounded almost longing. He added, with a good laugh, "I think he favors you over his own children."

Alastair didn't know why he had to be this way, but it caught him off guard. It made a weird pang in his heart to think Gideon Lightwood would consider him his son. Even more so, when he knew his own father would prefer to engage in a foreign bar than to eat with him. Alastair's throat felt thick all of a sudden, and it was hard to breathe. He made a shaky inhale, as soft and thin as paper. Thomas captured that, of course.

"Baby," Thomas whispered. He acted cautiously, like he was afraid to scare Alastair away.

"No," Alastair chocked out. He hid his face in his elbow, struggling to take another breath. "Nope."

It was silent for at least a minute before Thomas piped out, "Alastair joon."

Abruptly, Alastair lifted his head and turned to his boyfriend, a spike of anger ignited."I should be stronger," Alastair burst out, heat in his words, like flames. "It shouldn't - why does it affect me like this? This isn't - nothing has happened, so why-" he cut himself off, watching Thomas's countenance. He was the epitome of calm, deep understanding eyes and soft around the corners. His lips were pressed, and he was utterly handsome. Ridiculous.

Thomas swooped him into a hug, and Alastair didn't accept it. He fought to break loose and jumped on his feet. Raving fear and outrage and agony all mixed together on the tip of his tongue. He felt angry at himself for reacting this way, at Thomas for having such a perfect family, at the world because there was no one to blame for his situation. "A few months ago I still searched for my father in pubs to return him home safely. Now I look for my father from the other side of the courtroom and watch him try to take away my sibling. And my mother - she wouldn't admit it but I know she's stressed. She probably can't even sleep at night without my ass of a father to haunt her! And Charles wouldn't even realize he's in the wrong, because as always, it's just my fault it all broke apart. Mine. Mine alone."

"And Charles is still a jerk, and Mâmân is still unwell, and my goddam father is the worst father of the year," Alastair gritted his teeth. "And I feel so useless. Utterly useless. because I can't do anything about it. The court will prefer my father's white ass to my brown skin. They would think he's a better fit to take care of the child, even it's crystal clear he isn't. He wasn't for us, he will never be. And this poor child - it deserves a real family. And my drunken father is nothing of what it deserves. So how can he try to get custody over it, Thomas? How can they let him? "

"Alastair," his name sang on his boyfriend's tongue was like thick syrup. "You are not useless."

The shorter man flashed at him with a growl. "I couldn't help my father with his problem. I can't help my mom in court. I can't even be a good sibling to Cordelia, so how could I be a good one to the baby-?"

He was shuddering, he perceived, even though the night wasn't very cold. Was he sobbing? he couldn't tell. It was like he felt everything detached from afar. He felt bulky arms close around him, and he didn't protest this time. He tried to catch his breath, albeit it kept escaping him.

"None of this is your fault, Azizam. Life can be unfair to fair people. But you mustn't question yourself because of it." Thomas grazed a big, warm hand on Alastair's cheek, sweeping his tears. "And your love is so profound, it can build bridges. It's so selfless and raw and pure, can't you see it? It's all your heart, all of you, aching because you want those you love to be well. And they will be well, Alastair. They can move mountains because it's you on their side. They are lucky to have you." His voice lowered to a whisper.

"This is just too much," Alastair shook his head. "I just- want to be out of my racing mind. I want some quiet."

Thomas gave him a sad look. "I can't tell you it will pass soon. But you're not alone, Alastair. You have many people to hold you when you feel you're about to fall. All you have to do is look."

They set there in their hideout, and Thomas leaned in and left a gentle kiss on Alastair's lips. A promise.

Alastair tilted his head and closed his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"If anything, it's the opposite. You're spectacular," Thomas leaned in again, so their foreheads and noses touch. It startled a bubbled giggle out of Alastair, and Thomas smirked. He repeated it again and again and again. Until Alastair started to believe his words.

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cutie1365 · 5 years

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 10

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, lmk if I should add anything

(no Far From Home spoilers)

A/N: I’ve mapped out the rest of the story through Homecoming and I’m excited!!... Please give this some love! Like and reblog, let me know your favorite part and what you think is coming next in the comments! Please, these things are so small but help us writers so much! Thank you!

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog (inactive will be removed)

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The moment you woke up you knew: today would not be a good day. Your head was pounding, it was as if you had a pulse vibrating from ear to ear. You threw the covers off of yourself and sat up, your legs dangling over the side of the bed. You held your head in your hands for a moment before glancing to your bedside table, where you noticed a glass of water and pain meds that you certainly didn’t put there.

You were immediately struck with a wave of embarrassment. You didn’t expect to get that drunk, and you hated feeling like a burden. You felt horrible that Peter had to go so far out of his way to get you home and into bed.

It wasn’t until you were pulling the coffee pot out of its metal entrapment that you remembered.

I kissed Peter... and confessed that I liked him.

Your face went flush, all you could think about was how your father would kill you and Peter if he ever found out. Yesterday’s article already has him suspicious.

You felt trapped, you were running through your mind what you would even say. Surely after your brief texts last night he’d want to continue the conversation. Before, you could be honest when you said nothing happened, now... not so much. You didn’t want to lie to your father, or yourself. Slowly more and more memories came back to you from the party and you began to feel a pressure in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was just embarrassment, or anxiety for what was to come, or a combination of the two. You needed to get out of the tower, that was all you knew, you needed to escape and take some time to sort everything out.

That’s how you ended up two hours later at the compound upstate. You weren’t sure yet if you wanted to forget about everything that happened, or to fixate on every detail and relive it.

You hadn’t even been sitting on the balcony of your room for 30 minutes when you heard a jet landing. Surely your father wasn’t back a week early?

You slowly made your way out onto the tarmac, greeting a few Stark employees on your way. Your feet hit the dark pavement and you waited, wrapping your arms comfortingly around yourself wondering what you would even say to your father. You had no idea.

The jet door fell open as your father began his descent down the stairs and it hit you. All your emotions at once: guilt, embarrassment, heartache, all of it. As Tony’s eyes landed on you, he raised an eyebrow in confusion before shifting into parent mode.

“Young lady we got a lot to talk about-” Tony began to scold you as he stepped of the plane, an authoritative finger pointed at you. He was cut of by you throwing yourself into his arms, wrapping your own around him, breath shaking as you began to cry.

Tony was confused and stood frozen for a moment before enveloping you in his arms and rubbing soothing circles onto your back.

“Baby, what happened?” Tony asked, worried.

You unburied your head from his chest and looked up at him. He saw your tears, your expression, and your inability to articulate what was wrong. It was as if you couldn’t form the words. Your lips parted to speak but you just shook your head.

“You gotta talk to me, kid, I can’t read your mind.” Tony spoke softly.

“I- I fucked up.” You confessed, and he raised a brow in response.

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An hour later you found yourself sitting in a conference room with Tony and your publicist, Linda. You’d told Tony everything... well, nearly everything. You’d left out some of the intimate details, but he got the gist. You’d agreed on one thing: no more secrets. He wasn’t mad, per se, sure he felt betrayed but at the end of the day he understood. Young love wasn’t a mystery to him, even though most of his younger days were spent as a playboy.

Tony wanted you to be happy, as all fathers would. But he also recognized the conflict of interest. He was the figurehead of the Avengers. You couldn’t be dating someone who is practically a member of the team, especially one with his identity still a secret. That was another thing you had agreed on: for both of your safeties, you couldn’t be together.

Now this agreement was met with tears... lots of them. You knew you’d be putting Peter at risk, and you’d be sneaking around. You were tired of sneaking around. You wanted to love someone and let the whole world know. You wanted to be happy with no buts. You were tired of buts.

I want to be with you... but we can’t tell your father.

You’re brilliant... but you’re too young.

You’re a Stark... but you’re not Tony.

So you vowed, from that day forward, to never lie to those that you loved unless absolutely necessary. No more secrets. You’d made a promise. You’d also made a mess of things and had a press nightmare that needed to be dealt with.

That’s where Linda came in. She’s been your families publicist for years. And you had rudely hung up on her at the party. Maybe if you had listened and never went to that stupid party none of this would have happened. Of course, that picture of you and Spider-Man would still have been circulating New York faster than one of your jet engines.

Linda had a plan. She didn’t know that you actually knew Spider-Man and that the article was true. She just thought you didn’t want the bad publicity, and to be linked to a ‘vigilante’, especially with everything going on with the Accords.

In reality you didn’t care about protecting yourself from this backlash, you cared about protecting Peter. If the public thinks you’re dating, the bad guys will think that too. Starks have enough enemies and you didn’t want to put him in the line of fire, no matter what your heart wants. You had to change their minds... whatever it takes. Linda had a plan... but so did you, though you knew your father would hate it.

Linda’s plan was, well, going to be fucking exhausting for you. For years you’d denied any and every interviewer that came your way. You had always hated the idea. You were an electrical engineer, not some media plaything. But you knew that if you wanted to have any control over the public’s image of you, and to keep Peter safe, this was the price. You would do all of the shitty interviews you detested for years: Vogue, Vanity Fair, Cosmopolitan, you get the point. You’d play their game, steer the conversation.

“Are you sure this will work?” Tony questioned, knowing you were very vocal about never doing interviews. They didn’t care about what you had to say or your brain, they cared about how you look and your last name.

“It would have about a 75% success rate. We can’t delete the article, we can’t make people forget, but we can change the subject. I think we would have even better results if there was something equally as big that you were moving that subject too.” Linda explained.

“And it won’t look suspicious that I’ve never accepted an interview in my life, and now after this picture comes out I’m on everyone’s screens?” You asked, skeptically.

“With the right cover you should be fine. I was thinking you could be promoting the philanthropy work of Stark Industries.” Linda suggested.

“What if we were announcing some type of new grant or scholarship program? Promoting kids in the STEM field, open for anyone to apply? We could be offering a few internship positions or a chance to meet Tony, something interactive, worthy of an announcement.” You spit-balled.

“A real Stark Internship program.” Tony nodded. You both knew that was Peter’s cover when he went to Berlin, so why not make it a real thing? It had also been something you were thinking about, despite the unfortunate circumstances it had been brought up in.

“It’s perfect, we can even have you doing some of the interviewing, so there’s another incentive.” Linda beamed.

“Great, how fun.” You rolled your eyes, Tony gave you a warning look as if to say ‘You don’t get to be picky, we’re trying to fix your mess here’.

“I think this will work perfectly. I’ve got some friends at NBC so I bet I can get you on within the next week. We need to start big, maybe late night, and work our way out. I’m thinking YouTube, I’m thinking morning talk shows, you’re gonna be a household name by the end of the month.” Linda stood, excited, and rushed off to get to work.

You put your head down onto the cold conference table and sighed. Tony rolled his chair towards you and began to rub your back.

“You’re doing the right thing here kid.” Tony spoke softly.

“Doesn’t feel like it. What will I even say to him?” You looked up to him, eyes prickling as tears threatened to spill.

“The truth never hurt.” Tony suggested. Since when did he get so grown up and mature?

“Then why do I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest?” You groaned, laying back onto the table, your head hitting it with a thud.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be the dramatic one here, right? You had a crush, he’s a good kid I get it, but you’ll get over it. Right?” Tony said, as if it was going to be that easy.

“Mhmm.” You let out a mumble of agreement, but something told you it was never going to be that simple. It never was when it came to you and Peter, you would always have unfinished business.

“Alright, come on I got something that will cheer you up.” Tony helped you to your feet and took your hands into his, “Close your eyes”.

He led you from the room, and judging by the proximity and number of turns, you had surmised that he led you into the lab.

“Are you ready?” Tony asked, you simply nodded, “Ok open ‘em.”

Your eyes shot open and grew wide. Anyone else would have seen a triangular hunk of metal sitting on a table.

“Oh my god, did you finish it?” You lifted it gently from the table and began to analyze it.

“Mm, it’s a little finicky, needs your magic touch kiddo. Have fun.” Tony patted your back and left you to work. He knew that was exactly what you needed to get your mind of everything. You needed to tinker, you needed to create, to think and use your mind, and most certainly not think about Peter Parker.

You had been so concentrated on your work that you didn’t notice a figure drifting through the door.

“Ms. Stark, I had not expected to see you here at the Compound.” You recognized the voice immediately, one that had guided you your whole life, and yet now he was, well, a ‘he’.

“Vision! You scared me.” You laughed.

“My apologies.” He smiled, accessing your work. “Working on something new?”

“It’s just a housing unit for nanoparticles. One day one of these will replace all of Tony’s clunky old suits.” You smiled.

“Well if anyone can do it, it’s you Ms. Stark.” Vision smiled politely.

“Thanks Vision. How’s the compound been here without me?” You joked, taking a break from your work.

“I must admit it has been quieter. It’s not quite the same without the Captain and Natasha. Perhaps we need some ‘young blood’ as they say, like your friend Mr. Spider-“ Vision began but was cut off by F.R.I.D.A.Y. altering you of an incoming call from Happy. You quickly apologized to Vision before telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to put him through.

“Y/N,” Happy sounded frantic, as per usual these days, “The kids looking for you.” Your eyes grew wide, you weren’t ready to face this yet.

“Happy, I’m upstate.” You stated.

“Upstate? You promised me Monday.” Happy spoke and it was as if you could hear his heart palpitating with stress.

“Everything’s packed, you can have it moved out whenever you want. Hap, I gotta go I’m in the lab.” You hoped he could move your stuff out early and cross one thing off his to-do list, not that it would have much of an effect on his stress levels.

“Well what do you want me to tell the kid, he won’t stop texting me.” Shit. If he had been texting Happy that probably means he’s been texting you, and that wasn’t something you wanted to deal with right now, but you knew that the longer you put it off the worse it would be.

“I’ll be back Monday Hap, I’m sure you can handle him for two days.” You snapped, ending the call. You rested your head in your hands with a sigh.

“It does not bode well to put off our problems Ms. Stark, especially when involving your heart, and the heart of another.” Vision spoke wisely, as if he understood the entire situation.

“Easier said than done Vis.” You muttered.

You spent the rest of the night tinkering in the lab. You had a suspicion that your father could have very easily finished his work on the housing unit, but instead saw it as an opportunity to both distract you and keep you busy.

When you finally decided to retire for the night with a nice hot bath, you had yet to check your phone for most of the day. You were dreading the inevitable, but as you tucked yourself in bed you knew you had to face it sometime. The bright screen illuminated your face as you read the notifications littering your lock screen.

Peter Parker 9:45

Hey, how’re you feeling this morning?

Peter Parker 2:30

Stopped by the tower to check on you, you ok?

Missed call from Peter Parker at 4:41

Peter Parker 8:50

You’re kinda worrying me Y/N, are you ok?

You felt bad for ignoring him all day, but even now all you felt was embarrassment at your actions the night before. You weren’t sure how he was going to react in the light of day. Details of your conversation were still blurry, but you sure remember that kiss, and him pushing you off of him. Sure he did so with good reason, and it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Why had you even decided to do that in the first place? You decided on a quick and simple reply before your thoughts began to spiral and throw you into another panic attack.

Hey Peter, sorry I’ve been in the lab upstate all day. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll be out of town til Monday.

Vague but better than ignoring. And only a little white lie. You decided to return to town tomorrow, Sunday afternoon, not Monday. You knew Happy would have moved your stuff into the apartment by then and you’d like to start unpacking.

As you attempted to fall asleep, you tried to keep your mind off of Peter, but that proved to be an impossible task.

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The next morning, you enjoyed a peaceful drive back into the city. When you arrived, the movers were still working on getting all the furniture inside and into place. Instead of sitting in the apartment and watching them work, you decided to take a stroll around Central Park to clear your head. You needed some alone time with your thoughts to work out everything. You still had details to put together for the Stark Internship and the execution of Linda’s plan to get the world to stop asking about Spider-Man. She basically wanted to turn you into some sort of social media influencer, and the idea disgusted you.

You spent the rest of the night thinking and relaxing, vowing in the morning to start working on the piles of boxes now littering your apartment.

And true to your word, that’s what you did.

As Monday afternoon rolled around, you had successfully unpacked and organized the contents of about 15% of your boxes. Not a small feat considering half of them were shoes; thank god for walk in closets.

You were busy unpacking boxes of books and alphabetizing them onto your book shelves in the living room when you heard a knock at the door. You furrowed your brows in confusion, not thinking anyone knew this address besides your father.

You opened the door, revealing the curly haired boy that had consumed your thoughts for three nights in a row now.

“Peter, what are you doing here?” You asked, a stack of books still in your hands, letting him into the apartment. Your heart sank, knowing what you were about to do.

“I just wanted to talk to you about some stuff.” Peter admitted, while you walked back to the bookshelf and resumed placing the books into their new home.

“Peter this isn’t a great time.” You tried to put this off, hoping maybe you could prolong this internal purgatory you were in.

“Y/N, about the party-“ Peter began, fidgeting with his hands nervously.

“Ok, guess we’re doing this,” You slammed the remaining books from your arms down onto the coffee table, whipping around to face him, “Listen, um, I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I was drunk, I’m overwhelmed with all this moving stuff and-“

“It’s ok.” Peter nodded sweetly, but you could tell he was breaking inside.

“It’s not,” You didn’t even sound like yourself, like you were already playing the role of the woman your father and publicist so desperately wanted you to be, “My father was right, this can’t happen Peter. There’s too much risk involved.”

“What if it’s worth the risk?” Peter asked, almost begging you to listen. You removed your hands from your hips and began to wave them about as you ranted.

“People like us don't get to make that decision Peter, we don’t get to choose ourselves over the job we have to do, and the people that need to be protected.” Your voice raising in volume.

“Is this your dad talking, or you? You really don’t think you deserve to be happy?” Peter argued, knowing you didn’t sound like yourself. But his words hurt, because you knew he was right and there was nothing you could do, because you knew how dangerous it could be.

“I think you should go Peter.” You spoke, turning your back to him, you dropped your head into your hand. Peter thought you were angry with him, and had turned in an attempt to restrain yourself, so he tried once more. Last chance.

“Y/N. Look at me and tell me honestly that it was a mistake, and that you don’t care about me.” Peter spoke with more confidence than he had the whole conversation. You turned back to him after a minute and slowly dropped your hand and lifted your chin, your vision clouded with tears.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Your voice shook as your tears ran free. Peters eyes grew wide, he hadn’t expected that.

And almost in a moment of clarity he realized, you did care about him, that much was obvious from your reaction, but he also realized this wasn’t your decision. And that meant that you didn’t have much power to change it. You were hurting, and he just wanted to sweep you up in his arms and make you forget all the pain, but he knew that would make things worse.

As he left with a nod and a mumbled apology he realized just how much of a fool he had been. A fool to think he, just some kid from Queens, had a chance with the brilliant billionaire he’d soon never be able to forget.

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You gave yourself an hour to cry and grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, before making your way back out into the world.

Linda had her plans... and so did you. You knew there was one thing you needed if you really were going to sell this whole ‘perfect Stark girl’ media image and finally put to bed the Spider-Man rumors.

That’s how you found yourself, two hours later standing in front of a large oak door in a sundress. You knew the best way to forget about Peter, was to occupy your mind. You needed work, a distraction, and answers. Were your intentions pure? No, but then again neither were his... and you were getting impatient.

You knocked again, as the door was pulled open, revealing a face in utter shock.

“Y/N?” He asked, his eyes growing wider, if that was even possible.

“Thomas. We need to talk.” You spoke with so little emotion that it scared even you as you strutted past him and into the lavish townhome.

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #spider-man x reader #spider-man imagines #spiderman imagines #spiderman x reader #stark reader #mcu #marvel #thor4 #tony stark #tom holland #far from home #spider-man ffh

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lightshielded · 5 years

Text

spoilers and very VERY long, so below cut.

tl;dr - jarv is a character going through a lot of emotional turmoil caused by the lose of trust in close friends, lose of his family to the very magic they were working to promote ( suggesting to him it was the wrong idea to promote it ), having little healthy support network, and around him is a game of politics where those older and more experienced on the council are influencing him heavily in his altered state of mind. however, he is still a character who cares for his people, wanting to protect his people from future catastrophes cause by magic but also knowing they aren’t all bad so is also shown tentatively reaching out to foreign advisers of allied nations which have advised his father in the past on the subject of magic and is trying to do his best despite being king far younger than anyone should and thrown into the position in a truly horrific way.

important - all is subject to change as we are provided more info, this is just a pouring out of my first impressions and my attempt to understand and rationalise everything under the current state and info provided. also important to note, this includes mentions of suicidal tendencies, depression, ptsd and other like matters. please read with caution.

so as you may know ( or don’t and do not care about spoilers ) our dear prince, or rather king now, has had a very bad day. like he was almost made to eat a rat, and marvel didn’t want to draw him in his actual armour and did in the ceremonial / ig armour instead so i got big cucked out of my hopes and dreams, he got hit with a morg ult when trying to gank mid lane . . . oh and the mid laner killed his dad. what a wonderful day for our dear prince, i mean king.

so a couple things that are unrelated to what i am about to talk about but things that are true in my mind. riot removed jarv’s capture and torture by noxus just so they could have sy/las say he has no idea what he has experienced. just saying. 8 years of basically the exact same lore only to have one of his key points removed at the addition of the character? who then mocks him for it? just saying it’s true. tho i personally still go by that he was capture on my own blog and all, but i have cracked riot’s code.

also like where was shy? i think jarv kinda mentions her but like she is his bodyguard. that’s her whole thing. where is she? i get she tries to lay low but she is meant to be on jarv’s personal guard, but she wasn’t there. now i have a short theory on this. for those who don’t know, shyv is genetically a dragon, her real magic is the fire rune inside her. but otherwise she is a dragon that some how fucked up and became a human ( prior to sy/las it was caused by magic so the magic is technically making her human not a human becoming a dragon and after sy/las the shitty lore we don’t like is that it is the weather ).

so my theory is, since her dragon - ness isn’t magic but is like genetics, she would just eat him and he actually can’t use it against her so they had to remove her. some how. cause plot. and jarv is mopey that she isn’t around, for a reason they wont say :///// that or riot doesn’t care about her or forgot she existed :)))))))

so the actual things i wanted to talk about, jarv’s very harsh language and actions in the comic and short story. they seem so violent from what we know of the prince of the past. and while that might be true i would like to point out a couple things about jarv as a whole before we begin:

jarv was never brought up to fear or dislike mages - ( though would have heard stories i imagine ) which is evident in his father’s own opinions and his lore. this makes his point of view here seem obscure, he seems to hate very strongly despite not doing so before. this is true, but i believe i can provide some enlightenment on this. something similar to this has happened in his lore before. his first conflict with noxus he was introduced the harshest realities of war, it is the innocents that die first. in both new canon lores ( prior and post syl/as changes ) it is stated there were only a handful of survivors out of dozens of towns. it is said what he saw deeply affected him. the carnage there so deeply troubled him and he could not forget the faces of the dead. the atrocities he witnessed were far greater than he had anticipated and it left him very shaken and unable to correctly reason. this caused him to ignore all rational plotting and sense, pushing away all his advisers’ ideas, wanting nothing more the avenge those who died. and this ends badly for him. like jarv really, really loves his people and would do anything to keep them safe. in fact, it is known from other stories jarv doesn’t ask of his soldiers to do anything dangerous he himself isn’t doing. if they must face the risk of death he will do so too. and he has earned himself a lot of respect for that. so we know, jarv is deeply affected by his people’s deaths and is not unknown to react mindlessly out of rage when they are hurt, and thinking the ‘villain’ need to be punished.

our now king is younger than you all probably think - if you take demacia’s lore and the dates / ages we are given, he is quite young. low 20s with a max of about 25 but even that is generous. it is noted he doesn’t know what to do, his mood fluctuating like rising and falling flames, his lore says he needs to be ready but not that he is. this is not to say he is incompetent or emotional because of he age, but with age comes experience that he has not had the chance to garner yet. he is not ready yet in his own opinion and i would agree as well.

jarv loves his family, a lot - and his only family was his father and xin. i think it is important to note, jarv has a lot of love for his family for they are the only people that really see him as a person. his closest friend even had to be reminded to call him by name. so to lose the closest people to you hurts man. his dad just died. okay.

jarv’s part in turmoil - there is actually a story which occurs after the time frame of the lu/x comic ( unless they are going to say the events of the last volume cover a full month? ) which has some interesting links and i’ll summarise all that with my conclusions at the end.

so. onto the main part. why has our fair king turned from someone who sees ‘ the true strength of the Demacian people—standing together as one in defense of their homeland, no matter their differences or misgivings. ’ to ‘ Mages? . . . We should have executed them all. ’ it is shocking. even xin is shocked by how much he has seemingly flipped noting, ‘ Indeed, he knew the prince had always been troubled by Demacia’s treatment of its mages. But that was before. ’ note, xin is saying he was troubled once and these anti - magic outbursts are new. though, i will like to point out, i don’t think the outbursts in the short story or the comic are particularly anti - magic as they are anti - syl/as and anti - murderous rebellion. so from now on, i am going to work through the sections of the comic and then the short story and kind of evaluate jarv’s thoughts and feelings and what i think is happening with him. wow, i hope you like your posts long. ( oh, and i recommend turning the pages along with me since i will not be posting pictures unless it is very important to save on length )

so to begin, we first see jarv at a meeting with a mage - seeker, some council members and his father, reacting to what happened several hours ago. honestly here he is as normal, he is thinking first and foremost for the people and with a very strategical focus to his thoughts. he is trying to both reassure his own father while working to capture the murderers. truly nothing remarkable other than him being a little taken aback by his father chiding him. i can talk a long time how jarv was brought up with very zealot ideas despite the king’s best intentions but that is not for now.

next page is mostly focused on the riots outside but does show jarv’s priorities. protect my father, fight for my people. heck this is even brought up in his ( now very outdated ) voice lines ‘ for my father, the king. ’ ‘ protect the faithful. ’ also cue me getting excited they would show jarv’s actual combat armour since they have the guards all in that good shit but nah they didn’t and i am big sad. i get they set all the demacian champs to their in game stuff ( and for jarv that’s the for show / ceremonial armour ) rather than their lore stuff for accessibility but still i am sad.

and now we get to the fun stuff. wow look at jarv straight beating the shit out of people. legit knocking several people down, making someone into a kebab. the come at me stance. that face he makes when sy/las calls him princeling. so many people call him that in lore. is it even a unique insult at this point? get new material you chain gremlin you.

in the next page we do see him angry tho, at first he is controlled and stoic with his speak, not too many emotions showing on his face. but it is when he puts a threat on his father do we see his brows furrow and leave him quite angry in the last panel of this page. tho, while obvious mad at the threat on the king he is actually keeping his cool. rational thought based on what he knows of the magic syl/as has. but he is a bit ticked off. ( OH ALSO THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART DON’T @ ME BUT JARV IS TALLER THAN SY/LAS WHILE BENDING DOWN AND IN A FIGHTING STANCE AND SY/LAS IS UPRIGHT BY LIKE AN INCH. HE IS PROBABLY SEVERAL INCHES TALLER UPRIGHT. I STAN THIS TALL MAN. )

so the next page is very interesting, we see syl/as talk of ancient and powerful struggles then conjure fire from the pillars. so as far as i am aware this is meant to be a reference to our favourite angels but i am trying to work out when this would have been. i thought they fought in a small town which was all but destroyed and not in the capital city. it is possible that the petricite keystones were at the town and those keystones moved to where the capital would be considering their reverence of kay/le and stuff but idk. super cool tho! it might be explained in the future, or not but i think what i have there is the most rational ( or maybe they mean like various conflicts involving them but not them against each other ??). anyway, we also see jarv getting madder obvious from the last page and then the language he uses, gone from the neutral ‘ mage ‘ to negative terms such as ‘ thugs ’. so the fire heavily wounds or kills the guards and jarv jumps head long into the flames.

the next page continues with their fight which is frankly brutal but they really skimped on detail here. it is shown that jarv cut syl/as in the chest and stuff but 1) no blood and 2) it is no where to be seen later in the comic which is unfortunate. would have been cool. other things which is cool, jarv pinwheeling kay/le’s fire away. i love the dumb ways jarv is shown to use his lance in various media, just spectacular. but yeah, syl/as going for blows in calling him ignorant about the heritage he loves. cause we know how much our man loves demacia. but i think he is trying to goad him. like i said before, jarv wears his heart on his sleeve a lot. he is an emotional man, but emotions can make you sloppy.

so on the next page, we see morg’s magic and again i love this touch but who really knows how it is there. so jarv is taken down by that which is interesting because it affected him a lot more than kay/le’s? i have theories about the magics and how they affect people based on their judgements but again that’s for discussion for another post. so with the guards taken down and then their prince, syl/as finds himself victorious.

so skipping through gar/en’s bit, we next see jarv tied up and being walked ahead of some of the mages. notably he isn’t wearing his crown helm. but also, he is very calm. jarv doesn’t really fear his own death much, he has faced dying before and to him it is simply a risk a soldier faces. so he is rather calm on the walk while syl/as threatens him. though, likely also subdued by the magic from before. but he is also talking a lot of sense, this does end badly, really sy/las doesn’t get what he wants out of this venture, not really. sylas however thinks this funny and mocks him about eating rats ( which honestly i question what he actually ate because 1) idk about you but i didn’t see rats in these panels of his cell and 2) he looks very fit and healthy for a man who eats rats. personally i think they feed the prisoners but since their magic is being sapped constantly by the petricite that they likely get hungrier faster, like they are constantly exercising, and so he ate rats. but also again, lets be real, they removed jarv being tortured so he couldn’t reply ‘ well no, but i survived being tortured by noxus. i have eaten much worse. ’ ( also syl/as uses incorrect style of address here which is either an accident or an interesting hint to the next page - majesty is for kings, highness for princes ) anyway, he drags the prone jarv to the door and...

surprise. the king is already dead by the time they get there. now jarv is obviously shocked and horrified and sy/las is too but i think that is because someone is stealing his thunder and hello his plans aren’t going to plan. this is when things start going down hill for jarv’s mental state. before he was mad but controlled, jarv’s expression on this page are wild eyed. and very much lacking of any confidence he had prior. for once, the prince looks as young as he actually is, rather than acting a stoic faced prince.

now the next page is actually the one i think the artists drew the best for jarv. i really love his eyes in the first panel. jarv’s hunched posture, the looking over his shoulder and upwards, got to say i love the composition. also i didn’t mention it yet but jarv and syl/as’hair almost look the same and idk if that is intentional but i like the idea that it might have been cause it makes our fair prince look very rugged and references his position as a prisoner. anyway. but just jarv’s silence in the last panel, before he was confident and speaking and now his words are trailing off and he has nothing to say. he lost his family and the idea of mages being monsters comes to his mind here. ( also note, while i have cut this out of the image, when syl/as is asking about who killed the king the mages say it wasn’t them but possibly another mage that came with them. this is probably true since it is anarchy at the moment but also there is no blood so unlikely to have been caused by a weapon and poison doesn’t make sense since the guards were dead too. )

but that isn’t the end of it, that is for sure. syl/as lost the king to his own anarchy so he needs a new star of his show. and so jarv continues to have a bad time. he is dragged from his grieving and through the citadel ( and past some really fucked up and burnt bodies wow trying to give jarv flash backs are you? ) and here jarv is starting to have doubts about his father and his own views. ‘ my father was wrong about your kind. he thought he could make peace with you. and you murdered him. ’ jarv puts the barrier between his people and mages at this point, condemning any thought which would have allowed this as wrong. now syl/as then insists that the king could have changed this at any time but we also know the council of demacia is quite powerful itself and the king leaves it to a more democratic style of coming to decisions together and actually regrets letting them have so much power. and jarv is marched outside to be made an example of and executed.

passing over ‘lu/x being a bad ass part one’, we return to jarv being cuffed to this really fancy chair. i like it, but also how extra can you be sy/las. anyway, as this page goes on we can really see the prince’s loss of confidence and despairing states. he starts strong when syl/as claims he has been complacent on things ( finally confirmation that he hasn’t cause riot wont tell me anything !!!! ) and he denies that neither he or his father have, and syl/as knows nothing about either of them. but his words trail off, he is stuttering through his words, head bowed, skin clammy.

what he is talking about is 1) his backstory where he fought noxian invaders of demacia’s outer borders and allied lands, 2) meeting with exiles and we know in demacia their exiles tend to be mages as magic use is given imprisonment or exile - this quite happily aligns with my own head canons that he meets with them to help provide safe passage and resources similar to j3 to the noxians in his and xin’s story - 3) now we can assume he is talking about the same person from before in the earlier comic but he is really dodging around a name. i’m inclined to think shyv right now based on the ‘not so different’ so implying similar but not mage but magical creature. but really we don’t know. though that’s cute. but syl/as simply laughs this off, deeming any effort they have made and mocking his relationship. anyway, jarv just looks really sad and upset man.

and so the next page goes on and sy/las is calling for the crowds opinion on if he should be executed. some ( likely the rebels ) say yes and some ( likely town folk ) say no and beg for someone to save him. syl/as of course listens to his own people only and takes execute as the option, and starts firing up the mages on that. some call for him to be bled ( oh i see this is where they wanted to put the noxian blood letting torture. they got rid of it to be put here i see. ) and another to behead him. and up until the end, jarv simply seems like he is simply given in, accepted his death. eyes closed and almost willing it over. he has already had to deal with one drawn out (near) death before, he doesn’t particularly want another. he only seems perturbed when syl/as tries to force him to eat a rat before he dies. again he is wide eyed, and very disgusted by the prospect.

he is already in a state where his father has been murdered, he has been pulled away from him and forced to march past the magic warped remains of his people both soldiers, councillors and innocents, his death is being made into a sceptical and now he is also being humiliated. also important to note is that he is alone in all of this, his uncle is nowhere to be found, his father is dead, when forced into an arranged marriage with someone he considered a trusted friend he was given no answer but abandonment, and his two friends are no where to be seen. that mixed with the people he loves so dearly gathered to watch him die and some even calling for his death. he is hurting really badly, and if he didn’t want to be sick at the sight of burnt bodies he now wants to be sick at the thought of eating a live rat.

and now we have ‘lu/x being bad ass part two’ and ga/ren rushes in to save them both. the comic doesn’t say and what exactly happens next is likely a flash back at the start of the next comic as i believe the next comic occurs after the short story, as it was released now and not then. but i imagine two things occur in jarv’s mind during this event of him being saved ( which he know he is ). 1) gar/en is right. he can always trust ga/ren. we know his friend is vocal in his dislike of magic and belief in the laws in place, so jarv after these events probably takes to leaning on this view point as it comes from on of the only people he has left and feels safe with him after all he has gone through.

2) can lu/x really be trusted? jarv isn’t blind nor deaf. he heard syl/as and lux talk about them used to being friends, and that he used her to kill people. he doesn’t know about her magic i don’t think, but could clue it out from that maybe, and it is unsure if he knows her involvement with syl/as but he now knows she wouldn’t even deny the proposed arranged marriage to his face and she was apparently friends at one point with the one who lead to his father’s death. this cuts him a bit. ( also i see again, the trying to insert jarv lore into here? with gar/en saving him? interesting but not nearly as emotion jerking as gar/en finding his armour blood soaked and empty next to an executioners post with the pin signifying them as the closest shit in each other’s lives in the bloody mud c’: )

now, we do not know much until the events of the aftermath short story. this story, told through xin’s point of view, is honestly very depressing and provides a lot more focus on jarv’s collapsing mental state. while in the comic he is hurt and distressed, struggling with the idea of his own views on the matter and then the significant pain cause to him by magic and the possible danger it could cause his people, aftermath shows us a prince who has been stewing on it for the night. occurring the day after, it is told to us he does not look like he has slept and his emotions are raw at the surface. i suggest reading the full story but i will only be talking about jarv’s mentions in this.

so our encounter with jarv in this short story occurs with xin finding him at the training fields. he is described as already breathing with exertion and drenched with sweat, a suggestion that he has been doing this for some time now, and his emotions wild and clear. he is also attacking wildly at the dummy, very much venting but also showing us he isn’t poised or in control of himself. yet when he speaks, calling xin uncle, it seems uncertain. i surely read it with a tired and tentative voice in mind. yet, after a pause, his emotions re-flare and he becomes angry again (something which happens several times over the course of the short story). he speaks coldly, harsh, trying to find someone to take the blame for the events, shifting rapidly from seeing xin as family to seeing him as a simple bodyguard ( something from the previous flash backs show the later of being untrue, and that xin is extremely close to jarv ). i also see this as him struggling with his own thoughts and passions, a war of heart and mind - xin being family vs xin being his father’s bodyguard, in extension we have seen mages murdered my father vs not all mages are guilty, i hate them vs i hate them all.

the prince then decides the best way to interrogate xin is by also trying to vent his frustrations with sparing. in jarv’s short story ‘ ebony, ivory, jasper ‘ we see him as a very level headed tactician which is controlled and ultimately able to see the right plays and choices in things where others can not. this is not that jarv. he is literally striking first, thoughts and questions later. xin mentions he is also not taking his strikes lightly, that he is swinging hard enough to break bone, something one wouldn’t do unarmoured or with someone you care about. he is pacing like a stressed animal, gripping his weapon like it is only lifeline, and forcing xin to fight him like it is his only reprise. another point made which shows jarv’s very altered state of mind is how xin also notes his form is sloppy, jarv is a good fighter, one of the kingdoms best, yet he observes there to be ‘ little finesse to the strikes ’ and that ‘ at any other time he would have berated the prince for his poor form—he was thinking only of attack, and leaving himself open for ripostes and counter-strikes ’. now since we know xin trained him and considers this poor form for him, it is likely jarv is definitely not of these traits normally, something further confirmed when he notes these are something he wouldn’t do now or take advantage because he sees them as caused by his justified anger.

skipping past the first flash back, jarv continues to press xin and eventually just tosses his weapon away when he doesn’t get an answer he wants. the frustration and anger is palpable. the prince isn’t the kind of person to discard something so carelessly, to be so disrespectful as to throw something of his to the ground. jarv has been raised to have the ideas of honour and respect and personal value and virtue as being very important, and the disrespect of tossing one of his weapons, staring at it while someone else picks it up, isn’t something jarv in his stable mind would do. yet he does such and grabs his lance - a sharp and deadly weapon in comparison to his blunted sword - and xin protests using them because jarv is unarmoured. now i have not heard anyone cover this exact fact but i want to talk about it for a bit, xin is armoured but jarv is not. jarv is attacking and not caring about his defence. and now he is making xin fight him with their actual sharpened weapons while only xin is armoured. either of these weapons could kill him, even his own by his own hand if he isn’t careful as noted by xin. and just, he doesn’t care if he gets hurt.

i think this exemplifies one fact about jarv, the first fact i mentioned above. he experiences a great amounts of survivor guilt in the time he failed his troops as a youth and now he sees himself as failing his people and his father by not saving them. he couldn’t even beat syl/as. and now he has to live with that fact, and very alone with it now. he is both trying to find someone else to blame to share in his own self torment or at least have someone either take him out of his misery or give him a punishment that jarv thinks is fitting for his failure. and i think perhaps, while not explicitly noted, xin acknowledges it ‘ “You are not armored,” . . . “I don’t care,” . . . Reluctantly, his heart heavy, he retrieved his spear and moved back out into the open area in the center of the hall. ’ after all, it was xin in jarv’s earliest lore which remarked on the prince’s altered mental state as one of the people that knew him best, i would say that perhaps this is our new lore equivalent. and perhaps bring another down with him. ( jarv has always had a slight discard for his own life - see his quotes and his colour story - but this is quite excessive. the others can be seen as brave, this is different )

one more flash back later, they are fighting and we know jarv is not holding back. none of the fighting right now is casual, he is serious and very angry. this is contrasted with memories of xin with jarv and how jarv once idolised heros and here he is wielding the weapon in a very non-hero-like way. and yet drakebane itself moves in conjunction with his own actions like a perfect extension of his body. we are told that drakebane ( as obvious by its name ) was forged by the great weapon smith orlon, the same who made pop/py’s hammer, in order to combat a powerful frostdrake named maelstrom and her brood. perhaps digging into it too much, but i do see in essence that while the sword was not working for him yet his lance remains faithful is by his conviction in its original purpose. this lance was created to slay great beings of magic, to kill dragons, for the great kings of demacia to wield against the mages of the runewars. and this fits the mindset this king currently has.

another flashback passed we come back to a xin who is facing a new set of concerns, before he was worried about fighting the prince with dangerous weapons while jarv are unarmoured and now he is concerned that maybe the prince getting horribly wounded is not the only issue. here we see another drastic flip in jarv, he would never hurt someone he cared about, he is especially known to put himself in harms way before anyone else. and yet. he cut xin and xin is reasonably concerned but also unafraid. while it is only explicitly stated that xin thinks there is balance in dying here but it surely seems jarv also has this opinion. they both seem to think death is what they deserve. yet ( as angry as jarv is ) he doesn’t to want kill xin as much as xin wishes not to harm him. he stops as the blade ghosts xin’s skin, begging xin for answers but upon receiving it ( if not by xin’s confession but by his own reasoning ) he just deflates. he works out xin was sent away and so he is left as the only one at fault for ‘failing’. xin was fulfilling his duty, while he failed in his.

instead, jarv is just remains tired, tired and grieving and alone. through the next two flashbacks and jarv’s reaction to them we learn the late king was a stubborn man about what he believed in and that he often put his work ahead of himself and his family despite his love for his son. and just as quickly did jarv sober did his temper re-flare, upon hearing about the rebellion again he declares that they should have killed all the mage prisoners instead of imprisoning them. xin is shocked by this for he remarks that once jarv used to be concerned with the treatment of mages in demacia like his father but acknowledges that this was before what they did to him and that his anger in the moment is justified. but he still reminds him that his father wouldn’t agree with that, as he wouldn’t have once agreed with that. here it is key to see one of the great hurts in him right now is he feels both a failure and he feels betrayed, he snaps back ‘ and they killed him. ’ the lightshields had been working towards making things better for mages and in jarv’s angry thoughts and he feels betrayed by the ones they were working to help, he feels as if his good nature was taken advantage of and hurt by those he cared about. ( also note, canonically, execution is a murderer’s punishment. killing another is punishable by death and this is shown in some stories. )

just as quickly as this outburst begins does it end however, his fire dies and he sheds any mask of princely facade and anger, revealing he is simply lost, scared, sad and confused again. he grips feebly to support, and weeps. likely not the first time given his earlier description, but likely the first true time where he might realise the full emotion and weight of the situation. and he tries to hold strongly to it, he doesn’t have confidence or stability so he is all but begging xin to be it for him. when he is told that xin sees his life as forfeit, jarv grips at strings to keep xin with him. while desperate it is still very controlled though, controlled and thought out. begging wouldn’t work, but xin’s sense of duty would. and once xin starts to relent, he asks formally, appealing to the formal requirements. and once that digs at him, he appeals to the side that is his uncle, for he needs him as much as his kingdom. strategic in all things but it also shows his reliance on xin emotionally in this point. i strongly believe, if xin denied him he would crumple and things would be a lot worse. even if xin thinks he looks more composed after his breakdown.

and the short story ends with xin accompanying jarv to a council meeting. xin remarks at how controlled jarv is compared to his outburst, likely due to two things: 1) he had his outburst and is now not bottling up his emotions as much and is able to control himself better, and 2) jarv is required to look regal. xin notes that demacia needs a strong leader right now and jarv likely knows that just as well ( which will play a part in his next actions ) and so is portraying himself in such a way regardless of how his emotions might still be. i think this is shown well when he asks to see the note xin was to deliver, the contents of which anger him. it is a reminder of his older self, of his old ambitions and everything that he lost. and so he wrings its neck like he has to his old self and what he wishes to do to those that caused this. this shocks and disturbs xin and he is concerned. it is also important to note that the mageseekers are trained to combat magic so keeping them with greater powers, he increases arrests while the note wished to limit them, is advantageous to his wants.

after this point lu/x 5 will fill but we don’t know much of it so we shall skip over it for now. lastly, we have turmoil, a short story i really suggest reading which takes place one month after these events. as not much is relevant other than a few details and the laws of stone i will summarise. in turmoil, it follows a group of demacian soldiers as they are sent to escort a foreign dignitary to the capital, a mage from arbormark called arjen. the soldiers are uneasy with this and some wish that they could be out hunting the rebellions in the woods instead. two mageseekers accompany them as is now required by the laws. as they escort the mage they run into trouble. fearing the villages of the town wish to hurt the mage they are escorting, the soldiers form a tight perimeter and try to escape through a passage and a building. however, it is revealed the mob is not mad about the mage but one of the mageseekers with them. this mageseeker, under the new laws of stone was made to remove a young girl who he had been working with prior, he laments he didn’t want to remove her for she was innocent and he wouldn’t have required to prior but the laws have changed to become stricter and so all mages are considered guilty. the mother of the young mage tries to kill him but she is talked down but the crossbow still fires in a shot which would have killed one of the more vocal mage hating soldiers but arjen carefully uses his magic to deflect the bullet with only that soldier and the main character noticing. the mage hating soldier is conflicted and says nothing, implied to be having a turn of heart. the mother tells the mob to disperse and the envoy continues to the capital.

now from this we learn a couple things: 1) is is now illegal to BE a mage. prior to sy/las it was only illegal to USE magic and so benign mages were actually educated on how to control themselves at times and we treated more of a sickness at other. but now you’re life is a crime. 2) some of the mageseekers themselves are uncomfortable with this. while mageseekers have often been portrayed as horrific people, it is shown in this story as being more a magic focused police service which holds some corruption in higher ranks but also employs people who simply want demacia kept safe and don’t agree that magic is bad but rather bad mages are bad people. 3) that demacia has a lot of allies due to their defence of realms beyond their boarders and also that they understand demacia’s place and don’t condemn them for it. they understand the position of demacia based on its history. 4) these allies are sending who they think will help advise the new king of demacia best including mages and jarv is NOT denying them entry, which shows a willingness to listen which is a step beyond his much more aggressive stance one month earlier. 5) the punishment for being a mage is exile or imprisonment. currently the prisons in demacia are overloaded and there are prison camps in the outskirts. also exile is seen as one of the worst punishments in demacia. and 6) the rebellion is being hunted by the demacian army.

so, after all this, what can be conclude? it is obvious jarv is GREATLY affected by the barrage of death around him. his pre-existing survivor’s guilt is further exasperated by the failure to protect his father and those he swore to and he feels greatly betrayed by many people in his life ( lu/x for claiming to be a friend of the one who killed all these people, the mages he was trying to help striking when he is most vulnerable ). he is greatly alone with losing many friends and family and others being seemingly absent from the events, giving him only those with views which would increase his own anti-mage sentiment if he listens to them. he is lost in his grief and his depression and his anger, his empathetic nature stretched to its breaking point and he has no respite. in the end, jarv is doing what he thinks will protect his people, note he likely does not think mages among his people anymore, and will do anything for their safety. but he is also trying to be reasonable by reaching out to his allied nations as a new king and accepting the advise of mages on these topics. he isn’t murderous, but he is hurt and alone and his actions in his hurt are making him more alone. it’s a vicious cycle demacia has always been in, and now our dear newly crowned king has fallen into it.

a little extra: i do think there is a bit of jarv’s lore MISSING given the situation with shyv. i hope this will shed light on what he was doing and how that also affected him before this happened. i also hope they eventually show us jarv being redeemed for this is FAR from the jarv that the bio shows us on his page and i think that is his true self. just, if i can recall, someone i know once said at your lowest you become your opposite and i think this is true here.

#wow um okay #thats long #like 7 k words long #kudos to you if you read it all #its just me throwing out all my thoughts on the events to read #also not going to lie #this was so long #i didn't edit it at all #sorry for the grammar errors #about /#— out of character `

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sylvies-chen · 5 years

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My farewell to the Avengers... (CONTAINS SPOILERS)

I needed to write this because I felt so emotional after watching Endgame and I felt like I could express my thoughts and feelings better in writing, so here I go. Wish me luck, you can damn well bet I’m going to cry while writing this. (Sidenote: I’m very dramatic in this lol)

In 2011, I downloaded and watched the first Thor movie on my iPod 4 (just to paint thay picture for you), and I instantly fell in love with superheroes. I had mainly watched it because I was bored, but by the time Mjölnir flew out of the ground into Thor’s hands and he regained his powers, I found myself cheering. Maybe the younger version of me somehow knew that Marvel would end up impacting my life forever, or maybe I just had a really big celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth. Or both. Either way, I wanted more. I wanted to experience what I felt when I watched that movie again. So I asked my dad, and he set up Iron Man on my TV and played it. The next week, I requested Iron Man 2. He put it on an watched me watch it. I wanted the third one and was disappointed to find out that I would have to wait for another two years until the next Iron Man movie was released. In the meantime, I was introduced to all of the other movies as well as comic books by my father and my brother, and eventually became even bigger of a diehard fan than they were. I watched all of the movies that came out in theatres: The Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor: Dark Worlds Avengers Age of Ultron, Ant-Man, all versions of Spiderman, etc.

On April 27th, 2018, I watched Avengers Infinity War. Did it break me? Yes. Did I walk out of the movie theatre staring into space not talking to anyone and being in denial while my parents looked at me very worriedly? Hell yes. But to me, it wasn’t so bad. It was painful, especially the part where Peter faded away (I cried obviously), but I knew they would fix it. They were making Avengers Endgame. It would be okay. Peter would come back and so would Gamora and Dr. Strange and T’Challa and Groot and Bucky and Loki, and everything would be okay.

I go into Endgame today expecting to cry the same amount that I did during Infinity War. Which was a fair amount. Within the first ten minutes of the movie, I was already emotional with Tony and Steve’s tension and Tony having to grieve Peter’s death, but I generally was able to keep it together. I even laughed and smiled when Tony checked out Steve’s ass made that joke about Steve’s ass.

We’re well into the movie. The battle against Thanos isn’t going so well, but then something happens. Steve is able to pick up Mjölnir. Thor says “I knew it”. It’s EPIC and amazing. The very same thing that had happened to Thor in 2011 had happened to Captain America now. Especially since they teased it in AOU with the game of “Who can pick up Thor’s hammer”, I was even more stoked. But what happened next was something I never could have prepared for. The moment where everyone comes through the portals and unites. We see Wanda, Peter, T’Challa, Okoye, Valkyrie, Dr. Strange, Quill, Drax, Mantis, thousands and thousands of others ready to fight. Captain America is at the front. Steve, is at the front. As humanity is ready to fight for their lives, he says the words: “Avengers... assemble.”

I lost it. I mean, right then and there in the theatre, I started bawling bittersweetly because holy shit. This is it. I had become so used to having another movie to look forward to, another show to watch or a book to read, So comfortable with the absurd notion that the Avengers arc would continue for years and years to come. It had gone on for years, but it only felt like seconds to me. And now the final fight had come. That was the moment I had realized it was the end, and I couldn’t help but cry and cry and cry. I was with my friends and we held eachother’s hands as we sobbed, and squealed, and smiled, and cried some more, all at once. Tony and Peter reunite. That sent me crying again. Wanda, Valkyrie, Captain Marvel, Okoye, and all the other badass women surrounding Peter and protecting the glove, beautiful, badass, empowering. Crying again. Peter and Pepper losing Tony and little Morgan Stark having no father to love x 3000. Sobbing. It was the end. It was moving, perfectly imperfect, joyful, heartbreaking, and it was beautiful.

It was really bittersweet, because these characters meant so much to me. I grew up with them, they matured and developed along with me, and the more layers I saw in each superhero, the more beautiful I found them. I love finding the beauty in things, and there was never a shortage of things to see beauty in when it came to Marvel and the Avengers. Stan Lee’s geniality and creativity. Steve’s unwavering need to put others before himself. Carol Danvers ability to get back up every damn time after being put down. Peter’s young heart yearning so badly to help make a difference in the world. Thor’s strength to accept his losses and let his grief make him stronger. The entirety of Tony Stark’s character. Beauty. Not just because of their indestructable moments, the ones where they send the bad guys flying into the wall without breaking a sweat. They were beautiful because of their moments of vulnerability. Peter showing that he’s afraid. Natasha recognizing how much the family that she’s made with the Avengers means to her. Tony letting Steve know how hurt and angry he felt after the events of Civil War. They aren’t perfect, they’re vulnerable and human, and that was the most beautiful part about them. So naturally, when it all came to an end, I was inconsolable and filled with tears. I know now though that this is not the end. Because Marvel isn’t just a story, it isn’t just one person (although I’d like to think Tony Stark is the king of Marvel lmao). Marvel, the Avengers, whatever you want to call it, it is a concept. The same can apply to anything you really love. It lives in you forever. Marvel is me in my uncle’s basement browsing through the giant wooden chest filled with comics. It is whenever I go on Netflix and rewatch Thor: Ragnarok to cheer myself up after a shitty day. It’s hearing something on TV, or seeing something on the street that reminds me of the heroes that changed my life. It’s rewatching DVDs of the first Iron Man movie on a rainy day after soccer practice gets cancelled. Marvel was, and is, a way for me to escape reality sometimes and let myself believe there are grown ass people in costumes who will protect me from the evil forces out there. It is a safe place for those who are willing to give the characters a chance.

If there were any way for any cast members lf the movie to read this, I hope they do. I hope they find joy and satisfaction in the many ways Marvel’s Avengers has made my world better. These characters, these stories, they were my childhood. They will forever hold the most special place in my heart. I am so sad and happy at the same time, but most of all, I am extremely thankful that I had the opportunity to grow up in this era. To grow up in a generation as lucky as this one. Other generations will never know the feeling of anticipation for the Avengers: Endgame to come out, or the excitement of finding out that Loki is getting his own show. Thank you Marvel, thank you Avengers, thank you villains, even, for over ten years of love, patience, pain, and superhero action sequences. I am a better person for it. So farewell to you all, and as your beloved creator said...

Excelsior.

#the avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #avengers endgame #avengers endame spoilers #spoilers #avengers spoilers #endgame spoilers #my farewell to the avengers #the russo brothers #rdj #marvel studios

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noonachronicles · 7 years

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Angels and Demons Pt. 7

Choi Seunghyun/ TOP X Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Genre: Mafia AU

Warning: Language, Violence

Authors Note: Quick, funny story before we get started. Part 6 was not initially a cliff hanger. I just thought it would be too long to put 6 & 7 together. SORRY. >.<

Moodboard by @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

The early morning dock reeked of fish guts and sea water, but all of the boats were out catching the fish of the day so at least it was private. Seunghyun leaned back against his black car, his thick wool coat the perfect protection from the harsh winds coming into the bay. Smoke from his cigarette bloomed from his lips.

“He’s late.” he said without bothering to even look at his watch. Jiyong said one in the morning it was nearing two.

“You didn’t really expect him to be on time did you?” Daesung asked lightly.

Seunghyun chuckled, “No, I suppose he thinks it’s a power play keeping me waiting.”

They watched together as the headlights of five different cars approached from the other end of the dock.

“Always so flashy.” Seunghyun muttered with distaste.

Four black suvs pulled up surrounding Jiyong’s notorious white Lamborghini. He killed the engine before stepping out looking as superfluous as ever. An oversized fur coat was draped over his shoulders his hair slicked back with so much product that his hair glistened in the moonlight like an oil slick.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, hyung.” he said cheerfully, “I spent the evening with the most beautiful woman. I almost forgot all about our little date.”

“You mean the one that you requested?” Seunghyun asked unenthusiastically.

“Ah, not a morning person?” Jiyong joked fruitlessly. “Maybe a gift will cheer you up.”

Jiyong snapped his fingers, never taking his eyes from Seunghyun. One of his men pulled a latched box from the backseat of one of the suvs. He walked in between the two leaders and dropped the box unceremoniously onto the concrete. Whatever the gift was rattled against the box with several thuds.

“Now, before you open your present, I have a little something I would like to say. It’s speech really, I practiced it very hard and I think it’s pretty poetic and I’m proud of it, so hear me out. I know I said I didn’t want your hand me down lackeys, and I don’t, truly. The problem with that, however, is that I have to assume that anyone who isn’t with me, is against me. You understand. I was going to ask you one more time, just out of the kindness of my own heart, if you might change your mind. I wanted to extend the olive branch. I wanted this to work out between us on a business and a personal level. Obviously, that’s not going to happen because you have a really shitty attitude…”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Seunghyun interjected.

“See? Shitty. Here’s the shorter version. I have to assume that anyone that refuses to work with me based on loyalty to you has lost their goddamn mind because what I’m planning is genius. So, and this is where it gets poetic, I have decided that from here on out, anyone that doesn’t want to work with me and my clan, is going to literally lose their mind.”

Jiyong watched Seunghyun with so much enthusiasm, a comedian waiting for the perfect time to drop the punch line. He rubbed his palms together and nodded down to the box.

“Go on. Open it. See who- I mean, what’s inside.”

Seunghyun felt sick to his stomach already. He didn’t want to open the box. He didn’t want to know whose family would be hurting because of the role he played as leader. After losing his father he never forgot the reality of this lifestyle. He knew from the moment he found out his father was dead what it was going to be like when he stepped up into his position. He knew the burden of being the man that had to tell families their loved ones were gone before he ever put on a suit. He’d seen it in Youngbae’s father’s eyes that night he’d come over and sat him, his sister, and his mother down in the living room. He knew these moments happened, but it never made them easier.

“Alright, fine. I’ll open it.” Jiyong said impatiently squatting down next to the box and unlatching the lid.

He looked up at Seunghyun before opening the lid. The older inhaled deeply, the only reaction he let escape his face. Jiyong made an overdramatic, faux shocked face. It was a joke to him. Everything was a joke to him.

Anger rose inside Seunghyun and he lifted his foot, the heel of his designer boot colliding with Jiyong’s chest. As he fell backwards into a muddy puddle his face finally changed from amusement to rage. Three of his men stepped forward but Jiyong quickly lifted his hand to stop them. When he stood up muddy water dripped from his fur coat. He tried to smile but it wavered too much. Slowly he turned around and examined his ruined jacket. Jiyong turned back quickly, surprising Seunghyun with a jab to the face, the heavy fist sliding across his cheek. The rings on Jiyong’s hand slicing through the skin.

Seunghyun lifted two fingers to the cut, smearing the droplets of blood as he pulled them away to look at them. He shrugged his jacket off and handed it to Daesung.

“He bleeds.” Jiyong smirked.

“I am so fucking tired of you. Before I thought you were just young, but it’s apparent that you’re stupid too, not to mention reckless. You’ve started a war.” Seunghyn said pocketing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves as he spoke.

“What’s all this now? Are we going to fist fight for power? How vintage, just like your friend here.”

“No. We’re not going to fight. I’m going to beat the shit out of you in front of your own men for murdering a founder of the clans. And because your men, unlike you, have some respect for how things are done in our world, they’re going to let me.”

Jiyong scoffed and lifted his chin, “Hit me. See what happens. I won’t stop my dogs this time.”

Seunghyun threw a hard punch square against Jiyong’s jutted chin. There was an audible pop as he stumbled backwards. Seunghyun looked up at Jiyong’s men, daring any of them to take a step towards him. Nobody moved. Seunghyun threw an uppercut that threw Jiyong backwards into a couple of his own men. He ripped his still dripping coat from his shoulders and threw it to the ground. He sped towards Seunghyun, ramming him in the stomach with his shoulder. Jiyong lifted Seunghyun into the suv behind him. One of the side mirrors dug into his back, cracked and fell to the ground at their feet. Jiyong got a few punches into Seunghyun’s ribs before the older slammed his elbow into the younger’s back. He found himself locked into place by Seunghyun whose knee lifted up into his gut.

Seunghyun threw Jiyong’s limp body to the ground and squatted down next to him, pushing his shoulder so he rolled over to his back. Jiyong’s face was covered in a mess of blood and muddy water.

“I was trying to give you the chance to make your mistakes on your own. I think your plan was a mistake and you would have failed miserably, but I was going to step back and let you fail on your own. Now? Now, I’m going to end you. I should have done it months ago, I should do it tonight, but you’ve fucked up, big time, and for that I want you to really suffer.”

Jiyong coughed, blood splattering across Seunghyun’s white dress shirt. He grinned, even still, and reached behind him pulling a phone with a glittery gold cover from his back pocket. Her glittery gold covered phone. “You can try and make me suffer, hyung, but I’m not the one with a weakness. Go. Run to her. Make sure she’s safe and sound before someone takes her away from you. It’s easier than you think.”

Seunghyun’s face was like granite. He snatched her phone from Jiyong’s grip and climbed into the car without another word. Daesung directed the other men to leave before getting into the driver’s seat, their entire entourage taking off, leaving Jiyong in his puddle.

He waited until after the cars were all out of sight before standing up and facing his men. Underneath the mess on his face he was red with rage. “If I didn’t need you assholes,” he began calmly, “YOU WOULD ALL BE FUCKING DEAD.”

He dabbed at his cheeks and forehead with the sleeve of his shirt before getting into his car and peeling off. One of his men grabbed the box, closing and latching the lid before walking it over to the edge of the dock. He sighed and shook his head before dropping the box into the bay, where it landed in the water with a splash. It wouldn’t be until hours later when the boats returned that a young fisherman’s son would pull the box from the water, opening it to find the head of Namji. By breakfast every family in every clan of South Korea would know what had happened.

Seunghyun burst through the door of his home with a wrath that Daesung had never witnessed in his life. Minho and Jiwon were standing in front of the desk in his study with their heads bowing low and their hands folded in front of them. Children ready to be scolded. Taking long smooth strides into the study Seunghyun pulled his gun from the holster under his jacket. He grabbed Minho by the hair and pressed the gun to the boys temple.

“Give me one good fucking reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.” he hissed through his teeth.

“I-I d-don’t ha-ave one, hyung.” he stuttered.

“Jiwon?” he asked pressing the cold metal under the other boys trembling chin, “What was so important that you failed the only task I have ever given you?”

“D-dumplings.” he whimpered as tears streaked his cheeks.

“Seunghyun…”

Surprised by the voice behind him he pulled his gun around, pointing it at the center of her chest. She didn’t even look down at it, she kept her eyes on his, watching the rage drain from his face. He stepped forward wrapping his arms around her so tightly she thought she might suffocate, but then she thought, what a wonderful way to go. He pulled away without warning and examined her face, her neck, her arms and hands for damage.

“When I saw your phone I thought you were dead. I thought he had you. I thought…”

“I’m not, and he doesn’t.”

“What did he do? What did he say?”

Her gaze wavered at the fresh memory. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t punish them okay? They didn't do anything I didn’t ask them to do.”

He ran his thumb over her cheek before turning back to Minho and Jiwon. Both of them were back to staring at their toes. “Go home and count your fucking blessings, before you do that make sure you thank the angel that just saved your life.”

“Thank you, noona.” Minho said bowing low and taking off out of the room.

“Thank you, noona. We’re sorry.” Jiwon followed.

“You’re hurt.” she said quietly as he turned back to her.

“You should see the other guy,” he said searching her face. “Jagiya, what did he say to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“When we said no lies, no secrets, did that apply only to me?”

She sighed and grabbed the collar of his jacket, “I don’t want you to more upset than you already are.”

“Then tell me what happened so I don’t have to imagine the worst.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “He kissed me. He put his hands… everywhere. He told me all the ways he was going to make me his once you’re…”

“Jagi…”he could barely breathe, he was between rage and guilt.

“I really don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to remember it. I’m really fine. Just let me take care of you.”

She took him upstairs to the bathroom and fixed him a bath. He leaned against the counter watching her fill the hot water with salts and oils. He drew the line at the bubbles. Once the mirror was covered in steam and the tub was filled with water she stood up and looked him over.

“There is so much blood.” she whispered as she started to unbutton his blood stained shirt.

“It’s not all mine.” he shrugged.

“Oppa…” she gasped dragging the shirt off his shoulders to find a growing bruise on his rib cage.

“It’s fine,” he said honestly as she ran her fingertips gently around the coloration, “I feel better already.”

She looked up at his face like a disappointed mother, “Take your pants off and get in the tub.”

“Feisty,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and went over to the cabinet to pull out some medicine for the cut on his face. She gasped again when she turned around, “Holy shit.”

“What?” he said looking over his shoulder at her.

“How many times have I seen you naked?” she asked.

He chuckled, “Um, a lot.”

“So, how have I never seen this before?” she said stepping forward and placing a hand on his back.

“Well usually when we’re naked, you’re in front of me.”

“Smartass.” she said pinching his hip. “It’s beautiful.”

He closed his eyes as her fingers trailed over the design that covered his back. The storm clouds and the lightning. The wings, the fire, and the horns. He winced slightly when she found the spot where he’d hit the mirror on the car but other than that it felt like heaven.

“Is this meant to be Lucifer’s descent?” she asked.

“I like to think of it as a self portrait.” he joked.

‘You tend not to think very highly of yourself, Seunghyun.”

“You tend to think too highly of me.” he replied quickly.

“Get in the bath, Lucifer.” she said shoving him forward.

He sunk down into the warm water. He could already feel the soreness in his muscles easing away. She balanced herself on the edge of the tub and cleaned the wound on his face.

“This feels really nice.” he murmured, “Did I have all of this bath stuff here?”

She scoffed, “No. I went home last week to pick up some things and figured I might need some thing’s for relaxation. I bet you wish you had the bubbles.”

“Not really, but there is definitely something else I would like to add to the water.” he looked up at her cheekily as she applied the liquid bandage to his cut.

“Seunghyun, you’re injured.” she said reaching over to put the medicine on the edge of the counter.

“I know, I had a really terrible evening. Don’t you want to cheer me up?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” she argued but the look in her eyes said he had her convinced already.

“You’re hurting me right now. If you don’t get in this tub with me, it’ll break my heart.” he smirked.

She stood up and dropped the sweatpants she was wearing and kicked them over to where Seunghyun’s discarded clothes were. He looked up at her as she stepped into the bathtub in just the button down shirt she’d been wearing. She had one foot on either side of him and sat down on his lap.

“Is this my shirt?” he asked watching the fabric absorb the water. She nodded. “Are you going to take it off?”

“I want you to take it off. I like watching your hands work.” she said running her wet hands through his hair.

“Jesus Christ.” he chuckled and started to unbutton the shirt as best he could with wet fingers. “You could read the dictionary and it would still sound sexy.”

She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead, “I love you.”

He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug, soaking the shirt all the way through. He sighed with a mixture of relief and content before pulling away and going back to unbuttoning her shirt, “See? Sexy.”

#choi seunghyun scenarios #big bang scenarios #kpop scenarios #t.o.p. scenarios #Angels and Demons

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