#& spirit is like. isn’t he 11. are you letting your child live by himself at 11??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darlingmissmoth · 5 months

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Hi, my name is Moth and, uh, with “encouragement” from @babacontainsmultitudes (aka: “you should do it” and I went “yeah okay”) I have decided to do… A little (not a little) rambling about the kiddads (mostly Twin Focused, but still) cause I have many thoughts and feelings, most of which I tend to keep hidden but I have a blog and I’m making that everyone’s issue.

This probably won’t be totally coherent because my thoughts like to jump from point to point erratically so I’ll try to organize to the best of my ability? But there’s a good chance I’ll be all over the place! And it’s probably going to be… Very Fucking Long as a warning lmao

Anyway, uh, stuff under the read more :)

I’ve seen a lot of wild takes about the kiddads and their actions, and the general view on Sparrow is… Very Negative, from what I’ve gathered. I’ve seen a lot more positive as of late, but I still see a lot of hate. Which I get! If you do a skim of all he’s done, it isn’t a great picture. Telling your kid you aren’t proud of them, training your kids from a young age to kill things, his anger and upset, it isn’t good.

Then, of course, there’s Lark who tends to excuse Sparrow’s actions or try to smooth them over, it appears he’s the main one who did Hero’s training, and his anger is rough as well.

Then we have Grant and Nicky, one of whom is Overbearing, the other Distant.

All in all, the kiddads are, well… Not Great Parents to put it lightly.

But I think a lot of people tend to view all their actions through the lives of their own lives or what is “rational”, totally forgetting that the circumstances around the teen’s raising, around the kiddad’s lives, are not rational.

At the age of 11, all of them got kidnapped by their grandparents! And sold into slavery! They weren’t sure if they’d see their parents again! And while most of them took it in pretty good stride, they were 11 and most likely didn’t see the inherent danger of the situations they were in until they all got spirited away to Castle Ravenloft, where they had to deal with their grandparents and, no doubt, the abuse they dealt.

Both Nicky and Lark went through Real Life Or Death Experiences (not to say the other kids didn’t, but they were the only ones we see in S1 who got anywhere near actually dying) - and of them, Lark was the only one who felt death. It may have been a fake body, but that doesn’t change the fact that he actually felt himself die.

Grant had to kill something in such a horrible and gruesome way that we actively saw the way it changed his life. He got fucked up from it! Really badly. Mans is numb and struggling to feel anything which, of course, leads to a lot of self hate and self destructive habits.

And then, after all of this, Lark was manipulated by one of their abusers to stab his father and release The Doodler, which he didn’t fully understand the consequences of because, again, he’s 11. He was A CHILD.

Now he’s saddled with the knowledge he ended the world. He doomed his family, his friends, all because of an impulsive decision that he was manipulated into doing, yet he isn’t aware it was manipulation. He thinks it was just… Him. He chose to do it.

And now he, and all his friends, are wandering around trying to figure out how to stop this World Ending Creature that used to live in his family’s blood and it all seems terribly hopeless. But they keep trying. Because what else can you do? What is your other option? And he’s given a prophecy that says that his (or his twin’s) first born is the Only Thing that can stop said World Ending Creature. At the age of, like, 15.

Sparrow, who feels just as guilty for it, takes this onto his shoulders because he probably doesn’t want that tacked onto his brother’s conscious as well. Raising a kid just to be a tool because it’s either that or they continue to let this creature that he and his twin unleashed.

What were their other options? What other choices did they have? Let the world - the worlds - continue to die? They had to do something, and the only thing that would have worked - apparently - is to have this kid.

Meanwhile, Grant gets a kid and they’re in the fucking apocalypse, so of course he’s going to shelter his kid. He remembers what happened to him when he was put under extreme stress and in a life or death situation and he doesn’t want that for his baby. He loves Lincoln so much, loves his husband so much. Was it right to totally isolate him? No! Probably not! But he was terrified of the world, and he had every right to be.

A lot of people judge the kiddads under the lenses of our current world, but they need to remember that isn’t the setting. That isn’t their world. Maybe when they were children, but not now. Not when we see the teens.

Their world is a dying one, it’s scary, it’s dangerous. They did the best with the trauma they were saddled with, in a world that they were the cause of and could die in every single day. Do you think you could do better? Truly?

They did the best in the situations they were in, and for Grant, maybe he shouldn’t have had a kid. But he did! His husband wanted one and they were given one and they were small and innocent and sweet and Grant was smitten instantly. And people seem to forget he was a good dad! Lincoln turned out good! He’s smart and kind and gentle. He loved his dads so fucking much and didn’t realize anything was wrong until he was shoved into a position he shouldn’t have been in.

Grant raised him well. He raised him with love and adoration and did his best.

Sparrow and Lark did, too. They love their kids! No one can deny that! Sparrow and Lark love their kids. But it’s a dangerous world, and they knew at least one of their kids is the only hope humanity has. They had to make sure she could defend herself, she could take it down when the time came.

People also point at the homecoming scene for Sparrow and Lark and I agree that it wasn’t good. They fucked up. But it’s also made so, so clear that Sparrow loves Normal deeply. He adores his son. But it’s also canon that Normal reminds Sparrow of his younger self, who Sparrow is not proud of, and he desperately wanted better for his son. And Normal, had Sparrow and Lark not manifested, would have never known his dad wasn’t proud of him.

Which means Sparrow never let that show! Sometimes parents aren’t proud of their kid’s decisions, that’s just the long and short of it. And that should be okay. It should be okay to not agree with something your child does. But the important thing is that you don’t show it. And Sparrow NEVER DID. He NEVER ONCE showed Normal that he wasn’t proud. He showed love first and foremost always.

Which is why it came as a shock when he revealed otherwise. So he was doing good! He was a good parent!

Did they fumble? Yes. I’m not saying that any of them are totally blameless. They messed up a lot. They should have made better decisions. But they were also horribly traumatized, lost their innocence of childhood at the age of 11, and had to grow up in a doomed world with guilt on their shoulders and the fate of the world in their hands.

All of this to say that they are complex. They are human. At the core of this sillyfunny podcast, that is something that remains consistent. These aren’t characters on a traditional Hero’s Journey. They are regular people thrust into impossible situations that have to figure out how to cope with it on their feet. They’re flawed, they make bad decisions, and that is the point. They aren’t meant to be perfect or always know what to do. All of them are shades of gray. None of them are truly evil or truly good because no person is.

They’ll fuck up. They’ll make bad decisions spurred on by guilty consciouses or emotions. Some decisions won’t be rational because humans aren’t. We are made up of emotion and memory and personal values, and we make our decisions based around those things.

They aren’t perfect. They aren’t meant to be. They are complex and they are beautiful for that.

I’m sure there’s more I could say, but this is long enough as is, uh. If you want to hear more I guess either dm me or shoot me an ask about specific characters idk

Thanks for reading

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #I'm not gonna tag individual characters #moth speaks #moth writes #Here u go fandom #Long rambling thoughts from a woman with too much time on her hands lmao

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fantastic-wiles · 1 year

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Damian SickFic, didn’t want to post it on AO3 beacuse it’s too short.

It’s 11:00 at night.

Dick returns from a short patrol, weary and exhausted. His father’s legacy was getting harder to stick to. He’d never feel right wearing his cowl… but Gotham needed Batman. Without Batman, everything would go into disarray. Dick knows that. Gotham knows that. He can’t let that happen. Not when there were people to protect, innocents to defend, and criminals to apprehend. It’s as they say. Justice never sleeps. Dick fears he’ll be sixty by the time he even thinks about retiring. By then, he’ll probably have a few prime candidates to pass on the cowl to.

Dick wouldn’t have to worry about Gotham anymore. He could just sit back and relax with his family. Take care of his kid. Even though he’d be all grown up by then.

Dick drags himself up into the manor after changing his clothes. Alfred is waiting for him in the library.

“It’s time for you to rest,” he says.

“Believe me, I’d like nothing more.” A thoughtful pause. “Is Damian still sick?”

“Dreadfully so,” is Alfred’s regrettable reply.

Damian. Four years old. Black hair. Green Eyes. His father’s face. Another child left behind; another son abandoned. Dick doesn’t go a day without thinking what if, but he knows the truth. Bruce had been willing to hand Damian away for the sake of Gotham. He hadn’t thought twice about returning the boy to his mother when he should’ve stayed. It was Dick who had to pick up the pieces. When Talia brought him back, after Bruce’s death, Dick said yes, and that’s because he felt he owed Damian something, and he owed his Bruce something. The man who took him in and cared about people. Long before he’d suffered multiple tragedies, responsible for permanently altering his brain chemistry. Bruce changed. He didn’t like to open his heart anymore.

Dick had accepted Damian because he felt like he had a debt to pay. Now, he accepts Damian because he loves him. He can’t go a night without thinking about him. He worries about him constantly. Nothing can rest his mind until he sees that Damian is whole and alive. This night is no different. He spares a few words for Alfred and then heads straight for Damian’s room.

It feels like he’s trudging through sludge throughout the journey. He’s so tired. He wants to rest his feet and lay down. But he can’t settle his mind until he knows that Damian is breathing.

Damian is, indeed, breathing. Weakly, albeit. Dick takes upon pained features as his sickly lungs expel air out of his mouth. The poor kid’s nose was stuffed.

After examining the situation from Damian’s doorway, he takes a few steps into his room. Then, he rests a cool hand on Damian’s forehead. It’s not as hot as it used to be.

Damian stirs. Dick brushes his bangs.

“Hey sweetheart,” he mumbles as Damian cracks open his eyes to look at him dazedly. “Alfred said he was going to change your sheets. How about you join me downstairs, hm?”

Damian doesn’t say anything and considers Dick behind a fogged haze. When Dick doesn’t get any answers, he makes the decision for them both. He grabs each side of the blanket and lifts it up. He folds Damian up into a bundle. Once Damian is secure, he lifts the boy up into his arms. Damian breathes hot air into his chest. Dick doesn’t mind.

Dick carries Damian out into the hallway and presses him close once they head down the stairs. Damian looks at his face the entire time. Too sick to speak, too tired to protest.

No tantrum-throwing this night, it seemed. Dick should be happy. He isn’t. Damian might be difficult at times, always testing boundaries, but he was still Dick’s kid. He didn’t want his chubby-cheek boy to be docile. He had a whole personality in that little body of his. Dick loved every part of it. He didn’t want sickness to deprive Damian of his spirit.

Dick makes his way to the living room and sits on the reclinable couch. He tucks Damian in his lap and then bends over to press the button on the side. The leg rest pops up and holds up his feet. A good way to relax after running and jumping all night.

Dick settles back in place, fishes for the remote in the cushions, and then turns on the TV. He makes certain the volume is on a low setting. He knows how grating noise can be when struck with illness. Selfishly, Dick didn’t want to sit around doing nothing for the rest of the night, and he wasn’t willing to put Damian back into his room. Dick wanted to hold him. Wanted to feel every change in his body as it happened. That way, he could be prepared. Stop something from presenting itself and threatening his happiness. Dick wasn’t going to lose another family member again. He wouldn’t. Not if he could help it.

Dick pulls up a streaming service and starts scrolling. Damian’s ear lays limply on his heart. His eyes were still open. He didn’t seem entirely present, though. Maybe he wasn’t. Dick couldn’t delve into Damian’s mind and figure it out. He wasn’t a Martian.

Dick puts on a familiar movie. He then places the remote to the side and uses both arms to hug Damian close. “It’s okay Damian, I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Damian stares into nothingness for a few minutes after Dick’s promise. Then, he slowly closes his eyes and relaxes his weight. Dick sighs as he watches the TV colors flash throughout the dark room. He encourages Damian to turn his face against his chest to promote proper rest. He can’t imagine it’d be easy to fall asleep when colors were dancing beyond Damian’s eyelids.

Damian wordlessly accepts his encouragement and buries his face into Dick’s shirt. He leaves a crack for breathing. Dick feels bad for him. If he could, he’d trade their ailments. Make Damian… simply exhausted instead of sick. Dick could handle a cold.

Dick stares at the TV screen, but his mind is miles away.

#one shot #damian wayne #fanfiction #dick grayson #sickfic

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

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Puppet on a Lonely String. Yan Scaramouche x Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, non explicit NOT SFW elements, unhealthy relationships, threats, verbal humiliation and minor Unreconciled Stars event spoilers. Word count: 2.1k.

Summary: It wasn’t an easy decision to make but you knew you had to. After weeks of turmoil, you finally reach a conclusion. That you need to break things off with the 6th of the 11 Fatui Harbingers.

Love is a beautiful thing.

You’ve come to see it in different forms throughout the years, each iteration endearing in its own way. The love a parent has for a child and the devotion that comes with it. The love shared between friends, going through life together, reminiscing on bygone days over meals. Finally, there was that most renowned type of love, the one that stirs butterflies in your stomach at the thought of another. A partner whom you can lay bare every aspect of your soul, the good, the bad, the ugly. You’ve seen it in passing during your travels. An elderly couple admiring wares in Qingce Village, a barmaid and her fiancé celebrating their anniversary in a Mondstadt tavern, a sailor promising his lover a safe return at Liyue’s Harbor.

Gone are the days where you’d read Vera’s Melancholy with wide eyes, eagerly daydreaming of a star-crossed lover’s experience just for you. No, you’re no longer blinded by youthful expectations, fully acquainted with the emotional work a relationship entails. There’s bound to be pain at times. Deep pain, even, but never this sense of profound loss that you’re afflicted with now. Paranoia haunts you at every corner like spirits from purgatory who can’t let go just yet.

Love is a beautiful thing, but this is not love.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Scaramouche notes, resting his cheek on his fist. “Normally, I can’t ever get you to stop talking.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes and hum in agreement. “I guess so, yeah.”

He scoffs at your apathetic response. This entire scenario — down to the expression of vague disgust on his face — is exactly what you’ve been dreading. When you’re not filling the air with lively chatter, there’s nothing but tense silence. The role that’s been wordlessly assigned to you had never felt like a heavy burden until now. You’re meant to balance his bitterness with your sweetness, to add a splash of color into his monochrome world. It came to you so easily before. As surely as the sun will rise from the east and set in the west, you could soldier on through Scaramouche’s harsh demeanor and equally cruel words.

Could.

“Are you planning on sitting over there and glaring at me all night?” He inquires, tilting his head up, the ornate decorations of his hat ringing as he does so. You’ve learned how to read his body language through trial and error, a skill no one other than you has acquired. Or, to be more precise, a skill this finicky Fatui Harbinger has never allowed anyone else to have. It was an uphill battle to learn the smile he has right now, that tightens every muscle in his face, is no more genuine than Teyvat’s counterfeit night sky.

“I’m not glaring at you,” comes your gentle correction, the words so quiet he has to adjust himself to hear them. He frowns at your interjection, prompting you to validate your reasoning. “I just— I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

You regret it as soon as you say it.

Now he’s not going to accept anything less than a detailed account of whatever it is you’re bothered by. Maybe it’s his odd way of showing care for you, but it’s overbearing to an uncomfortable degree. In moments like these in the past, you felt like he was interrogating you as a Fatui Harbinger, not worried for your wellbeing as a partner.

Archons, it isn’t fair. You were supposed to have more time to prepare. Never did you expect that Scaramouche’s work would be finished so fast, allowing him to return to you early. There wasn’t even time for one of his Fatui underlings to alert you of his imminent arrival as per custom. If you were being honest, this was going to be difficult either way, yet him popping up unceremoniously didn’t help your frayed nerves.

It was likely he noticed your peculiar behavior right away. For once, you didn’t come running to greet him with a hug which he’d begrudgingly accept. You had given a timid, almost awkward reception, too stunned by his sudden appearance to school your mannerisms. If him not pointing your behavior out all evening was an intentional ploy to stir up your anxiety, it was working.

Scaramouche’s glowering isn’t helping in that regard. You’ve been patiently waiting for him to occupy himself so you could put your clothes back on without his eyes following you. Unfortunately, he seems intent on giving you all his attention until you crack and tell him what’s bothering you.

To keep the night’s cool air at bay, you further pull up the sheets to cover your bare shoulders.

“You know that thing you used to say,” you wet your lips and squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation. “About how… we couldn’t work?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “What exactly are you getting at?”

There’s no going back now.

“I don’t think we’re right for one another.”

You swear you feel electricity crackling in the air.

He’s prowling towards your spot on the bed with unprecedented speed, various gleams of stormy emotions passing through his eyes. Is it confusion? Disbelief? Hurt? Whatever it is that’s brewing inside his heart of stone gives vindication to your concerns. You never expected a perfect, sunny relationship with a Fatui Harbinger, but this display goes to show something is majorly wrong with him. It’s no longer your job to put up with it and pretend it doesn’t exist.

You take a deep breath as he stops just shy of your side of the bed.

“Tell me, [First],” he takes your chin in his hand and lifts it, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Are you being serious?”

Scaramouche draws out each word, low and guttural, his fingertips subconsciously humming with energy. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as a result, but you force yourself to remain firm. Your Pyro Vision is set on the nightstand, just tauntingly within your reach, should the need to make a swift escape arise. He easily catches where your eyes land and grimaces, tightening his grip.

“Don’t tell me you’re itching for a fight.” He deadpans, adjusting his position to block your Vision from your sight. You swallow thickly. When it comes to speed, Scaramouche easily triumphs you, as he has far more fighting experience. Not to mention his fights are normally a fight to the death, whereas you prefer a more pacifist route when possible. Even if you were wielding your Vision, you’re uncertain how long you’d be able to hold your own against a Harbinger, nor do you necessarily want to find out.

“This isn’t normal,” you place your hand atop his and pull it down, somewhat surprised that he allows you to. “I wanted— I tried, okay? I really did. Tried not to think about how your lackeys have been shadowing me for whatever godforsaken reason, how overbearing you’ve started acting. I can’t do that anymore.”

He narrows his eyes. “And to think, just a few minutes ago, you were more than happy to let me have my way with you. Where was this moral compass then?”

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment at his insinuations, yet you remain steadfast. “Think whatever you want. I know myself and I know I’m justified.”

There’s no telling what he’ll do next. Your mind is locked in a frenzy, analyzing the best possible route to get your Vision attached to your person again. This is a part of what you were preparing for when intending to break things off with him, so it doesn’t come as a complete surprise, not that the foreknowledge helps close the gap in strength.

“Perhaps I’ve spoiled you,” he muses, to which you shiver, your instincts crying out to do something. He softly brushes his knuckles over your cheek, a cruel mimicry of how a lover should act. “That’s the only reasonable answer.”

Incredulous, you repeat the words back to him, the dehumanizing language acidic on your tongue. “Spoiled… me?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy every second of it.” Scaramouche snaps, the sudden change in demeanor giving you whiplash. This is far different from the irritated but harmless exchanges he used to humor you with when you met him. It’s something sinister, something only those who haven’t made it out of confrontations with The Balladeer alive have heard. He lowers his hand from your face to your shoulders, peeling away the cloth that’s obscuring your bare chest and dropping it.

You observe with heightened senses as he traces indecipherable patterns over your chest, adrenaline at an all-time high. Your fingers twitch by your side, aching to lunge for your Vision, to secure a fighting chance out of this waking nightmare. Yet you remain still as a statue. Too petrified and bewitched by his touch to move.

The skin beneath his eyes tightens as he smiles wickedly. “You heard me. I spoiled you when I touched you here…”

His hands drop to your thighs. “And here.”

Next, he ghosts over your crotch, lips twitching. “Here too.”

When you finally snap from your stupor and try to recoil away, he grips either side of your waist, forcing you in place.

“All those dates, expensive jewelry, and gifts… you were using me, weren’t you? Prancing around like a whore to get whatever it was your little heart desired?”

Is that how he’s rationalizing this to himself? To think you ever held the person standing in front of you in high regard is now absurd, as he reveals more of his true, hideous colors. Whatever guilt you had for potentially upsetting him dissipates into thin air, now replaced by righteous fury. He only needs to get distracted for one second. One second is all it’d take to get your Vision, to feel power hot as lava flowing through your veins, ready to erupt at your beck and call. Could he leer down at you so confidently when you had hellfire flaring at your fingertips?

“If that’s what you think, then you know nothing about me,” you’re somewhat amazed that your voice doesn’t falter, yet he looks unimpressed. “I don’t care if that’s what it takes to make you feel better about yourself. It just goes to show that you can’t handle the truth unless it’s what you want to hear.”

Scaramouche clicks his tongue. “What a mouth you’ve got on you.”

You don’t expect what he does next.

He releases his grip on you and steps back. Your Vision is now suspiciously unguarded, the fiery gem waiting to roar to life, your reflection faintly present in its sheen. It’s a fight against your instinct to lunge forward and grab it, instead critically scrutinizing the new development. There’s no way he gave you this opening without a catch. He confirms your apprehension by laughing a humorless laugh.

“There are two options,” he puts a finger up. “One. You spread your legs like the slut you are and beg for my forgiveness. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even consider a lighter punishment if you manage to put on a convincing show. Think of it as a token of my goodwill.”

Another finger. “Or two. You get your Vision, fight like your life depends on it, and scamper off. Just know that while you might be able to get away…”

He steps forward and leans down to close the sparse distance, his warm breath fanning over your face. It’s hypnotizing, really, those indigo eyes of his. You’ve fondly gazed into them so many times without a care in the world. They were always so soft, soft for you and no one else. It made you feel special. Like you were the center of the universe, and to him, maybe you were.

Not that it matters to you anymore. Now the sight alone sickens you to your stomach.

“Who’s to say those you care about will have the same luck? If memory serves, you’re the only Vision wielder in your family, I wonder how they would fair against me. Or the innumerable Fatui that are under my command. There’s no saying what the outcome may be, but I fear it’s not going to be one that you like.”

It feels like the air has been forced from your lungs, your entire body forgetting the necessary steps to breathe. To think he’d stoop so low, to go to such lengths, you couldn’t fathom how deep the roots went. Just when you were internally begging for him to be quiet, now that he is, you can’t tell what is worse. When he goes into detail about his malicious thoughts or leaves them to fester in your head.

“So tell me. Which will it be?”

#scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #not sfw #my stuff

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blouisparadise · 3 years

Note

hi! just wondering if you know what fics from the abo fest are bl?

We’ve compiled a list below! As always, it can be difficult to check larger collections like this, so if anyone sees a fic here that shouldn’t be or finds one that we missed, please let us know! There are lots of amazing fics here.

Enjoy!

1) Rose’s Fortune | Mature | 5055 words

Omega Louis takes one of his siblings to the doctors (check up, possible broken bone or possibly injections?) and the new Dr is Alpha Harry. Harry is great with kids and Louis is smitten. Harry is smitten too but attempts to act professionally and keep his distance whenever Louis visits the Drs with his siblings or to pick up his prescriptions. But Harry realises there is no reason for him not to make a move as Louis isn't under his care.

2) This Love’s A Luxury | Mature | 5623 words

Omega Louis is a hairdresser. Alpha Harry just wants his hands on him.

3) Take Me To The Stars | Explicit | 5840 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Staring at his darling daughter, in the middle of the pasta aisle, Louis found himself on the edge of a neurotic breakdown.

"It’s your birthday tomorrow! And your papa better not do anything to muck it up! Because your dada worked very hard to organise it! And all of your aunties and grannies and granddads and friends will be there!” Louis continued in a sweet sing-song voice that seemed to get increasingly frantic as he continued. “And if your papa is in rut, then what? What’ll we do, honey girl? Your dada will be too busy! And your papa will be too horn-”

“Louis,” Harry interrupted, touching Louis’ arm. “I’ll be okay. It’s probably not even my rut. I can appreciate you… all of you… even when I’m not in rut.”

Louis looked at him skeptically, imagining the shitshow that would be Harry in rut, surrounded by family and friends, at their child’s first birthday party. “I hope you’re right, H.”

4) Dare You To Move | Not Rated | 6060 words

The one where Harry falls in love with the omega who is the brain behind the omega march he joined.

5) I'm Asking You Please, Don't Talk Dirty to Me | Explicit | 9777 words

Prompt #68: Harry’s best friend Louis is a nice, well-mannered omega, at least when it comes to sex talk. He has always been closed off and quiet... until Harry hears how Louis talks during his heat. Now, it's all Harry can think about before his upcoming rut... (Original prompt wording edited for clarity)

6) When Tomorrow Comes | Explicit | 11111 words

When Louis and Niall are partnered up to complete a project on Omega scents and how they effect the nesting behaviours of Alphas, little does Louis know that the course of his life is about to be forever altered.

7) Hint: I Want To Be Yours | Mature | 11157 words

The one where Harry unconsciously starts acting like Louis' alpha after they spend his rut together and Louis finds ways to make sure Harry's affection doesn't end.

8) Smells Like Omega Spirit | Not Rated | 11769 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it is omega Louis/alpha Harry.

Louis is an omega doing a test run on neutralizers for a class project. Every time he talks to Harry he smells completely different.

Harry is an alpha who can't figure out if he's going crazy or his sense of smell is broken, but all he wants to figure out what Louis' real scent is.

Somehow they figure it out.

9) If I'm On Fire, You'll Be Made Of Ashes Too | Explicit | 12518 words

Flawed and romanticised is the notion of perfection. Harry likes to think such a thing as perfection exists.

10) Love, Ever After | Explicit | 20782 words

The one where omega Louis makes love matches, alpha Harry makes cheese, and meddling friends might finally make their dreams of finding their soulmate come true.

11) Promise Me You Won't Run Away | Explicit | 23128 words

The Prince/ Knight AU in which Harry left Louis, but the omega never once gave up on them.

12) Don't Play With Matches | Explicit | 25632 words

Niall sees love everywhere - much to the despair of his friends, old and new (who he tends to treat as his own life-sized game of sims). It leads to complications.

13) I'm Gonna Keep This Love, If You Let Me | Explicit | 26355 words

Louis makes Harry pretend to be his boyfriend one night out. The rest is history.

14) In Your Scent I Thrive | Explicit | 33366 word

Harry’s particular condition has made it impossible for him to enjoy people’s scent, until he meets Louis.

15) We Both Got Nothing to Hide | Explicit | 43811 words

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

16) Oubaitori | Explicit | 48822 words

Louis and Harry meet again after years apart and have to learn to live together by detangling their shared past and uncovering old secrets.

17) Maybe You'll Like the Way I Am | Not Rated | 55878 words

Note: There is no smut in this fic, but it is omega Louis/alpha Harry.

When Louis' alpha neighbor asks him to pretend to be his omega for a week, Louis immediately says no. He has too much he's dealing with on his own, and he swore to himself he'd never get that close to an alpha again. Unable to hold to that resolve once guilt sets in, Louis finds that maybe fumbling his way through a fake relationship for a week was exactly what he needed to finally be able to move on.

18) Lunar Waltz | Explicit | 76795 words

Louis has to replace his (missing) twin brother and marry one of the most dangerous alphas of the kingdom.

19) I’m Missing Half Of Me When We’re Apart | Explicit | 83745 words

AU in which OT5 are all in their 30's and a list from 10 years ago dares Harry and Louis to lose their virginity to each other. What happens when two best friends who are not only completely unlike each other but also the complete opposite of their assigned secondary genders find themselves in the position of fulfilling that goal despite Louis hating alphas and everything they represent and Harry being irrevocably and unconditionally in love with his best friend? Will they find to each other or will a stupid piece of paper from their Uni days ruin their friendship?

- BLP 🍑

#asks #fic recs #abo fic fest

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sixteenthshen · 3 years

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my rant on episodes 31/32

I feel so conflicted about them.

On the one hand, I wanted to watch the shared horse scene so much. On the other, there were so many inconsistencies and WTF moments. I can't bring myself to touch those episodes again to make more gifs, which is such a pity because WKX falling down the cliff? SO PRETTY.

Spoilers behind the cut. If you do follow the drama with Chinese fans, you’ll probably have heard the same things like a million times. To save yourself more angst/stress, skip my post.

The upside is that the director took the fans complaints to heart. They were making edits until 2am last night. I heard it’s already live, but I’m still trying to prepare myself. There’re some things that can’t be fixed ><

*hopes for the best on Tuesday*

In episode 11, WKX wanted to tear the Scorpion assassins into ten thousand little itty bits because ZZS had some blood on his lip, which made me mentally scream so much from joy. In episode 31, he LETS Duan Pengju, that evil dickface(TM) go, just like that? Where's the rage? Where's the anger? Do you see the colour of ZZS's face? Can you see what he's wearing? Do you know what dickface did?

Although it's a very touching moment when WKX decides to acknowledge the shixiong/shidi relationship, it's super weird that the ghosts are behind. I mean, I suppose it can make sense if we focus on the fact that he's planning to "retire" from being the big bad CEO of Ghost Valley. But it seems careless to expose a weakness in case someone tries to take advantage of it since they have to kill you to get to be the new CEO.

There's no follow up on the injuries sustained from being tortured by the evil dickface(TM). How could they make WKX seem so callous? Maybe a scene where ZZS asked Wu Xi to hide his injuries from WKX, but WKX's right outside. He overheard ZZS telling Wu Xi to hide it from him, so he pretends not to know. *cue angsty scene for WKX here*

The only thing related to injuries was when Wu Xi said ZZS could be saved from his self-inflicted nailing. Okaaaay. What about the piercing of the scapula? (穿琵琶骨 (piercing pipa bones) - it's supposed to cripple your martial arts ability until you heal ok)

WKX suddenly decides to go off and be a career man, which is perfectly fine. But he suddenly has Gu Xiang watch over ZZS like a hawk, not letting him drink. (Seriously, I forgot if this belongs in TYK or if this is yet another thing stolen from Sha Po Lang) Where is WKX showing any concern over ZZS's total loss of 2 out of 5 senses? I ASK YOU MS. SCRIPTWRITER. What have you done to WKX's character??? Poor WKX, poor ZZS.

And did everyone laugh off the fact that ZZS can't taste, so why should he drink wine? Ok, I can make myself accept this if I remind myself that ZZS would not like people making a fuss and pitying him anyway... (but shouldn't someone, anyone care???)

We get many hints that WKX has a sneaky scheme, but he doesn't tell Gu Xiang, his closest friend since childhood. He doesn't talk to his soulmate about this either.

WKX and ZZS's dialogue just before he falls down the cliff... Seriously reminiscent of Silent Reading, when Fei Du makes the same self-flagellating confession & Luo Wenzhou stops him.

ZZS draws his sword and stands beside WKX. What is going on?! How does he still have his martial arts ability? Did months pass since WKX saved him from evil dickface (TM)? Nothing makes any sense!

ZCL's hidden weapon is what forces WKX over the cliff. If ZCL did not know about the sneaky scheme, then WTF is this kind of scriptwriting? ZCL's character turned from a good, young child to a prop-causing drama and angst. Even if he felt betrayed, was he not there to see how depleted WKX made himself trying to save Han Ying? Did he not see how WKX tried to keep his shifu safe? Or taught him how to fight? Did ZCL become stupid all of a sudden just to create angst?

It only makes sense if ZCL knew about the scheme because of all the info he was privy to, such as Zhao Jing as the villain behind it all (when he heard WKX and ZZS talking). How would he go from knowing that to thinking ZJ should be the new head of the alliance? As a matter of fact, how could Shen Shen?

Ye Baiyi has to be in on it unless WKX suddenly gained so much martial arts ability in the short time since they last fought. I mean, it only makes sense that WKX got so much stronger because he got injured by YBY, then depleted his strength saving Han Ying.

So ZCL, YBY, Scorpion King and his buddies, fellow ghosts, possibly Shen Shen... WKX only kept it from the two people closest to him? The two most likely to do something stupid when they find out? *flails at this logic*

The scene where ZZS's nails magicked their way out of his body... It's so awkward!!! I mean, we're supposed to feel emotional, but the special effects are just awful. I tried not to skip through it, I failed.

So now what? ZZS essentially sacrificed himself to help WKX complete his goal. He gave up on his chance to be saved to fulfil WKX's pursuit of revenge (and take revenge for WKX's death). And it's all because of a misunderstanding.

Between ZZS's nails and the ZCL-issue, I'm drowning in dog blood. What happened to WKX and ZCL's characters/personalities????

Also episode 32 is VERY choppy, it seems like we’re jumping to scenes randomly, the flow isn’t there.

I can only say that the "Priest" spirit is gone; it's not a bad drama by any means. I'm still watching & I'm still going to buy the new episodes on Tuesday. But the random angst and abusive scenes inserted without no reason nor much logic are very un-Priest-like.

I feel a little cheated about the scriptwriter being a fan of Priest. Priest's novels always feature couples who communicate. The supporting characters can come off flat in a drama sometimes because they're so normal. They don't have ridiculous backstories that make them tragic villains, and they behave logically.

The angst "created" in Priest's novels makes sense. Characters don't suddenly change their personalities so that we can watch something exciting. The "dog blood angst/drama" is the big failing of so many Asian dramas. *CRIES*

Now, the GOOD & HAPPY STUFF.

WKX SAVING A-XU. *heart eyes*

NGL, no matter how short it was, I liked the horseback scene

There was a cute moment between Qi Ye and Wu Xi, scriptwriter knows how to ship!! & knows how to make it clear who’s gong/shou lol.

THE HAIRPIN SCENE. IT’S EVERYTHING.

Even though I’m 90% sure the no-alcohol thing is copied from Sha Po Lang... I have so much love for Gu Yun and ZZS that it made me happy. My drunkards <3

Did I mention WKX looks extremely pretty when he falls down the cliff? How do you fall so prettily? Plz teach me.

WKX also looks pretty fake-dead. ZZS looks pretty when he’s heartbroken

I ship xiangcao so hard even though I know what’s gonna happen. (Cao Weining & Gu Xiang) They’re too cute.

I love the Poisonous Bodhisattva, I thought the Tragicomic ghost would be my favourite because of how gorgeous she is, but she’s too tragic & not enough comic. Poisonous Bodhisattva is my new goddess.

#word of honor #opinion #just in case #i don't think anyone would want to #but just in case #don't reblog this #i just wanted to rant

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ziracona · 3 years

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[Very excited for the next bit & hopefully life quits kicking my butt soon so I can get it done. Anyway, an update.]

The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, ?) [Fate Grand Order AU]

Adrenaline pumping so fast I think I might puke, my hand is already up and I’m halfway to shouting Billy’s name to summon him when the door opens again.

I stop, unused command seal on my lips, and stare as it shuts again and locks, then opens quick. It. OH.

I feel my face on fire as it clicks. I am so glad no one was here to see this. It must automatically lock—must have been locking every time it shut. The pattern is just repeating again, and I couldn’t see the lock from the other side.

Okay. Okay… I make myself take a long, deep breath. You’re okay.

It’s…funny. I wasn’t scared at all until I was alone, and now I’m…completely freaked, I think. …Maybe I was scared before, too, but not like this. It’s okay. You can call for help if you need it. You know they’re all depending on you, so you have to do a good job. You can do this, Ritsuka. Come on1

Right. So. I’m okay. Whoever opened the door is not trying to lock me in, as far as I know anyway. Why did they call me?

Remembering I haven’t, I turn and look at the room behind me. It’s lit, but only dimly. It…kind of looks like a hospital room? But. An old one, and not a very nice one. Like they do in movies from earlier times. There’s almost…a replica of a room? Built into the middle of this one. It’s…like in Mission Impossible movies, when they finish tricking someone and pull down the walls and it wasn’t really a hotel room at all. There’s two windows, and I can’t exactly see what’s in the room from where I am, but I can tell that whoever is in there is seeing little medical set pieces left outside them. This is weird.

It's…way more elaborate than any of the others have been. That seems really strange. Are they actually trying to trick whoever is in there?

I can’t think of another reason to do this.

And there is someone in there, right? There’s gotta be. Or, why would I be getting a call for help? So, a heroic spirit, in a really weird death trap? One that is tricking them into thinking they’re somewhere else. That’s…meaner, somehow, I think. I feel a pang in my chest at the guesses I’m making in my head. I hate this—I hate all of this. I just can’t understand why they’re doing it at all. It’s all been bad since that moment I first saw Billy from across a room, but I really can’t get the way the Lancer looked out of my head. I keep wondering how it would feel to be alive and see your guts hanging out on the ground, and I hate that thought—it makes me sick imagining it, but I can’t stop. And he did—he lived that for real! Minutes ago. Minutes ago, he was hanging there with his guts on the ground and a pole through his stomach. He felt all of that, all of it. For he said two and a half days. I…I can’t even…begin to imagine…

And. ...The other thing is, I also keep thinking that none of the spirits liked it, when they saw him like that, but, none of them seemed really…surprised. I wonder. …I wonder if that means this isn’t so different from other things that happen to them. I. I really hope it is—I hope this is nothing like what normally happens, and I’m just making a big deal of nothing in my head. I hope the worst of it is being bossed around and made to fight, because that’s bad enough. But.

I…might not be experienced, but. I’m not stupid. And…I know it’s more than that…

I know it’s worse…

Okay. Come on. Time for this later. Get moving! It’s about them and you want to help them, so let’s go—let’s help! You got this.

Shaking myself internally, I give the stuff around me a quick glance. First thing, better let the person opening the door know they can stop—that’ll eventually draw attention. Whoever it is can’t see me, in Robin’s cloak, and I’m a little afraid to take it off, so…

Settling on a nearby medical cabinet prop, I walk over and open one of the drawers a few times. It works. Whoever it is might not see me, but they can sure see the ghost cabinet, and they take the hint. The door closes and stays shut, which…is unsettling, but. I pretty much just asked for them to do that, so. It’s probably okay. And if anything seems off, I can call for backup. Whoever is out there asked for my help, though, so I’m gonna believe that was sincere until I have proof otherwise, and I’m gonna try.

Turning, I go slowly towards the little mock room ahead, and hesitate at the door. It doesn’t have a window, but it has an old-fashioned keyhole, so I stoop and peer inside. It’s not a good angle, but I can make out a hospital bed in there, with a body on it. I think their eyes are open, but they’re perfectly still. There’s something unsettling about the sight, even after everything I’ve seen today. And there’s…something else. A weird…heaviness, to the room. Some kind of mana, I think, but I don’t know enough about magic to tell what it is. I do know enough to be able to tell whatever it is, isn’t good.

I consider my options. I can still hear fighting faintly above me, so I shouldn’t call for help unless I need it—I might mess them up. I could wait, but now that they know we’re here, they might start killing the spirits they have. So…I should go ahead and go in alone. It’s not like I haven’t done that before. And…it should be fine. If I explain who I am, I think I’ll be safe, and if anything starts to go wrong, I’ll call for help.

My heart’s thudding in my chest so much I feel like throwing up, but I clench my fist and bring it in tight against my chest, then reach my hands up and pull off the hood of Robin’s cloak. I’m not totally sure how it works, and if it’s the action, or the fact I want to stop being invisible, but I see myself again as I do it. No going back I guess. If I’m on camera, I’m on camera. I pause to take a deep breath, and turn the knob.

It isn’t locked.

The door swings open, and before me, I can clearly make out now what looks like a pretty convincing old-fashioned hospital room. Not…in a good way. There are bars over the windows, and straps on the bed, for holding patients down, and here’s a man on the bed, held in place by them.

It…it feels so unnecessary. He looks ill, like he probably would have trouble getting up off the bed no matter what, and a little old. White hair, but a face not as old as I expect with it. I have a hard time telling how old adult people are when they’re between 40 and 70, and he seems not at the older end of that spectrum, but at first glance I thought for a moment he was older. His face is haggard, worn out like he’s on the verge of death. Huge bags under his eyes, gaunt features, and his eyes themselves are milky and vacant. There’s…something really wrong with him. He’s got a bandage on his head too, and one around his throat, both blead-through a little. What…happened to you?

He doesn’t seem to see me at first. Just keeps staring blankly towards one of the fake windows, then slowly turns his head and his empty eyes towards me.

Something changes. The haze drops, if just a little, and I can see life deep beneath the clouds in his eyes.

“A child?” he asks me. His voice is damaged, from whatever happened to his throat, and he sounds weak, but the thing that stands out isn’t that, it’s how his voice itself sounds. There’s an air I’ve only ever heard from teachers, the good ones—a kind of sophisticated and educated and understanding way of talking that makes them sound smart and kind and good to be around all at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

He tries to smile at me. He looks so weak, it’s pitiful.

“…” I can’t find my voice. I swallow, take a step closer, and try again. “I’m. Ritsuka, Fujimaru—I came here to try to help.”

“Help?” he echoes, confused. There’s…so much pain in his voice too. Like being sad is a part of who he is.

“To—get you out of here,” I manage, taking another step.

His brows knit in weak confusion. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I’m here to help everyone trapped in here anyway,” I answer.

He smiles a little, sadly, and shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing taking immense effort. “That’s very kind of you. It’s not the most comforting place to end a life.” He speaks and his voice has that same tone, gentle, and overflowing with pain. “But I don’t think there’s a lot more you can do for any of us. Than come to visit.” He opens his eyes again and turns his head weakly to look at me. “Which is always nice. It can get lonely in a place like this.”

I don’t. Understand? He.

“You want to get out, right?” I ask, taken aback.

“Of course,” he answers simply, shutting his eyes again, voice and breaths raspy, “But it’s not that simple. I have to be here now, and it won’t be much longer.” He smiles to himself again. “You’re kind to worry for us.”

He sounds like he really means that. I’m so confused—unless—?

Thoughts racing, I take in the room again, the attention to detail. I try hard to focus on the heaviness in the room; I’ve never been good at sensing magic, but I give it everything I’ve got, and I can tell something is not just in the room, it’s on him. A curse? A spell? Maybe…If I can find it, I can…

Taking a step to try and see him up close, he hears me moving and opens his eyes and turns to look. Seeing me, he looks surprised.

“Hello there, little one. What are you doing in a place like this?”

I stop and stare.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

“We…just talked—do you not remember me?” I ask. My voice sounds so small it surprises me. I see his face fall. He looks…some kind of very deep sad, like that question cut to his core.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes moving to look at something that isn’t me, “My memory isn’t what it was.” He tries to smile at me and looks back again. “What brings someone like you to a place like this?”

“I came…to help you,” I reply meekly. There’s no recognition in his eyes. Just mild surprise again.

What did they. …Why did they...

“Sir,” I say, taking another step, “Do you know that you’re a heroic spirit?”

I think he almost laughs, and I can see in his face he has no idea not only what he is, but what a heroic spirit is at all. “I appreciate the compliment, but there’s really nothing heroic about me,” he says like he’s found my question very sweet.

Oh boy. What do I do? I don’t know complex magic. I can’t…I can’t fix this on my own, unless, if I can get him to contract, I could with a command spell, but. If he doesn’t even know what heroic spirits are, he’ll never agree! He won’t even be able to. And, if I try to explain, and he thinks what I’m doing is super weird, he might freak out, and- …Okay, okay, come on, think. Stay cool.

“What happened?” I ask, indicating his injuries as I move closer. I’m almost at the bedside now, and there’s a little metal chair there. I move it beside him and sit down, like I really am someone who came to visit a hospital room.

No. Not hospital. Asylum.

His face loses the little color it had.

“I’m sorry—I—maybe that’s too personal,” I say quickly, feeling very bad, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He gives me a kindly smile. “Fell,” he answers, and he tries to indicate I think the head wound, but can’t because he’s strapped down, and I see surprise and then pain and shame with it register on his face as he looks down at himself. You forgot. That too…

“What’s your name?” I ask, hoping to distract him.

It sort of works. He glances back at me, surprised again. “You don’t know me? Are you just visiting everyone here today?”

“Yes,” I answer, because in a way that’s true.

He smiles. There’s barely anything but skin and bones on his face. He looks so ill I believe what he said earlier, about how it wouldn’t be much longer. “That’s kind of you,” he says again, “I’m sure it will cheer all of us up. It can get a little boring around here, the days long.”

The thought of how true that must be is agonizing. It makes me want to cry. Whoever he was, this must have been how he died, a long time ago. Alone, hurt, and with a broken memory, in an asylum. I can’t think of many lonelier ways to go.

“My name is Antonio,” he says. He must have been some kind of teacher, the way he sounds proud and welcoming at once saying his own name.

“I’m Ritsuka,” I introduce myself again, “Fujimaru.”

“Ritsuka,” he echoes, curious, “Where are you from?”

“Japan,” I answer.

“Your Italian is perfect—even the accent,” he says.

“We aren’t speaking Italian,” I say before I can think not to.

Something cracks in his face. He winces, almost like a full-body tick. His eyes get vacant, and then very, very alive for just a moment, and there’s horror in them.

“I,” he says, faltering. Listening. “Sto…parlando Italiano…No.”

Crap. Crap crap crap.

He looks at me, terrified. Right on the edge of understanding something, and unable to make it.

“What am I?” he begs me in his broken voice. It’s not what I thought he’d say, and I am completely lost in how to answer him. “Who?” He tries to move his hands again, and can’t and in despair tries to rip them free. Failing again, he turns back to me, desperate. “Please!”

“It’s okay—it’s okay--I’m here to help you!” I promise. I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me like I’m doing this and he’s begging me to stop. I would never. “I know this is confusing—I don’t know what they did to you, but they messed with your head.”

“My?” He tries to move a hand again, already having forgotten, and looks down in despair at the restraints, then me.

“Here,” I say quickly, and I unthread the ones around his wrists, then chest. Still unbelievably weak, he raises a shaking hand to his head and feels it, wincing, then brings it down to his neck and leaves it there.

Staring into space, confused and horrified, and out of it.

“Antonio?” I try.

He glances at me again, distracted, but more awake than he was.

“I can help you, but I need you to trust me to do it.” I look at my hand, then hold it out to him, palm-up. “You’re still you, whoever you were before. You’re still Antonio. But it’s later than you think, and you’re a little different too. I can explain, but I think if you trust me, I can fix what they did to you, and you’ll be able to remember on your own. That way will make a lot more sense.”

“Trust you,” he echoes, and I see the fog starting to settle back over his eyes, his previously terrified posture starting to go slack.

“No-no-no-no, hey!” I say, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

That does something, and he blinks and looks at my hand. I’m so afraid he’s going to ask me who I am again, but instead he says, “What?” in a kind of out of it voice.

Crap crap I’m gonna lose him.

“Listen to me. I’m speaking Japanese right now, and so are you. This place?” I say, letting go and hopping up, idea formed, “It’s not real—You’re not where you think!” I run at the nearest wall and slam into it, and it topples back like the set piece it is, and he watches in horror and jerks when it thuds against the floor, then stares at the room past it in alarm. “You’re being kept here against your will, and the people who did this are messing with your head! I can help you—I came here to help, but you have to trust me.”

Face ashy, he focuses back on me.

“If you form a pact with me, I can help you,” I say more calmly, going to sit back down.

“I don’t-“ he starts, and then he winces again, that full-body kind of jerk, like something has cracked inside him, and when he looks at me again, the fog has receded a little. “I’m…you said, ‘heroic spirit.’ I’m…dead. …I’m…I’m not…Antoino… I am…I’m…I…”

I’m losing him again and he’s staring at the wall. I reach over and put my hands on his and that snaps him out and he looks at me again. “You are. You’re Antonio. You’re Antonio…?”

“Salieri,” he says almost vacantly, but his eyes are still alive, and holding mine. I can see him deep in there past whatever Ur-shanabi’s done to him, fighting.

“You’re Antonio Salieri,” I echo, “And you’re a heroic spirit. If you form a contract with me, I can help you. I’ll try to anyway, if you don’t want to, but I’m not very good at magic. I’ll do my best, but I swear, if you are willing to form a contract, I won’t do anything to hurt you—I’m only here to try—”

There’s a loud sound between a thud and a hum, and we both look up towards the source of it. Something in the ceiling?

Huh.

I was so used to the sound of it, I hadn’t even realized the bedframe itself was making a low-pitched humming as well, but it shuts off and I am immediately aware of the absence of it. We both look in unison again, down at the bedframe, and I see Antonio’s brow furrow in confusion, and then he holds up a hand, and I realize it’s not completely opaque.

It's already not completely opaque.

No. No!

“They pulled the plug!” I say desperately, and he turns his head to look at me again. Whatever they did to make him like this, it must not have been connected to his power source, because he’s just as out of it as before. This is all wrong and he’ll be dead in a few seconds, as fast as he’s starting to vanish! I have to—“Please—hurry—if you vanish they’ll summon you back! I can ground-“

His expression changes entirely.

In an instant, the fog is gone and the welcoming calmness and kindness is gone and his expression is hard and volatile.

I was wrong—whatever curse was on him was connected to his power source, because it is gone now, and it’s like he’s not even the same person he was a moment before. He looks into my face and I’m scared of him. No, I think…I think I’m terrified of this person. He looks like death—he looks like hate—looks like them in a way I had no idea person could look. Like they’re not what he’s feeling, they’re what he is. Meeting his gaze makes me scared he’s going to snap me between his fingers, and not even for any personal reason, just because it’s his nature. But then I’m past that in his eyes, and behind it is the same thing I saw before. The same person, deep beneath it. Kind and intelligent and composed. Like he’s wearing a terrifying Halloween costume over who he really is.

And I’m okay.

I think he sees that, sees all of it, and he looks…hurt and touched and a little surprised, all at the same time. He glances down at me, and then holds out a transparent hand, palm-up.

“I am not much of a servant,” he warns me, and he sounds harder than before, colder, and sharp, but the teacher tone is still there. The one that says ‘I will show you how to do it right even if it takes a long time, don’t worry. Come take a seat,’ all patient, and kind, and knowledgeable. Layered beneath the new tone, the same way the look in his eyes was. “I’ll warn you ahead of time that I’m dangerous to be around, and I haven’t much power to offer you, but if you still want a contract with a servant like me, I will accept your offer.”

“Of course I do,” I say without hesitation, and I take his hand, “But I don’t want a servant. I want a partner.”

He tilts his head like this is unexpected, but somehow his face doesn’t look too surprised, and he closes his vanishing fingertips around mine.

“My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and accept my call, then bind to me-“ I realize I have no idea what his class is and look to him.

“Avenger,” he says in that broken, sad voice, but he has a weak smile on his face.

‘Avenger’? “-Avenger,” I finish.

“I accept,” he replies, and I feel a tug on my chest and flood of mana, and I thought I’d be fine because I’m getting used to this, but I forgot I’m kind of beat right now, and I think I pass out—only for a second, but I’m upright, and then I’m face-first on the bed, no idea how I got there, the Avenger gently helping me back up.

I feel awful, but he’s solid again, mostly, and looking better. I mentally check to make sure everyone I have a contract with is still alive, and I feel all the connections going strong.

“Great,” I say weakly, grinning at him, “We did it.”

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Mmm…hh..” I slump forward and pass out.

#fate go fic #fate go #fate grand order fic #fate grand order au #fate go au #fgo #fate grand order #Ritsuka Fujimaru #Antonio Salieri #the kid #the kid (fic)

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Text

Summer camp AU - Chapter 5 - Remus

Finally an update to this! I found this chapter super hard to write for some reason. I hope you enjoy it!

CW: Food, implications of past toxic family relationships

Fic Rating: T

Please message me if you feel that any content warnings need to be added or the rating is not appropriate.

The characters in this fic belong to @lumosinlove and you should definitely go and check out her fics!

For previous and future chapters please see my masterlist

Remus moved tentatively as he climbed over Sirius, doing his best not to wake the other man. He wasn’t quite sure when Sirius had arrived, a vague memory of a muttered apology sometime during the early hours of morning surfacing, but he’d been asleep and barely registered it. He huffed a laugh at how Sirius had burrowed himself under the sheets, his inky black hair the only thing visible. The bed really wasn’t big enough for the two of them, and as much as Remus loved Sirius, his boyfriend leaked heat like a furnace. Still, soon the campers would be here and the two of them would have to set an example by not sneaking into one another’s accommodation so Remus savoured the company whilst he had it.

The air had already started to hold a damp heat when Remus stepped out, despite the amber hues of sunrise barely having lifted. A sweet breeze gave some welcome relief as he picked up a steady job, his muscles slowly waking to the chirping chorus of birds he couldn’t identify even with their daily meetings. Remus almost missed the flash of red hair hidden behind a tall pine tree, except for the hushed laugh that drags his attention away from a feisty squirrel he’d paused to watch. He rolls his eyes at the couple, an act he acknowledges is highly hypocritical considering the origins of his own relationship. The two kissed again, drawing the owner of the rough laughter into view and Remus startled. He peered closer, confirming his first observation - that was Kasey Winter, but the person he was with was most definitely not Natalie Darcy, Kasey’s girlfriend. Ordinarily, Remus would pretend he hadn’t witnessed anything, writing the situation off as none of his business, only both Kasey and Natalie were good friends of his. He pushed the dilemma to the back of his mind for now and pressed on with his run.

The work day had seemed unusually long, Remus learning the cruel lesson that even the most adored job became tiresome when you wanted to be somewhere else. Placing the final package of dressings in their drawer, Remus ticked the item off his checklist with a flourish. He looked around the nurses station, giving a satisfied nod and a self congratulatory smile; the place was really starting to come together. Now that he was finished for the day, Remus rolled his shoulders, letting himself relax.

Without the distraction of inventories and paperwork, Remus’ mind wandered to thoughts of Sirius. A phone call from a panicked parent needing reassurance the camp could, in fact, accommodate her child’s allergies had lasted long enough to result in him taking a late lunch, so Remus hadn't had a chance to talk to his boyfriend all day. He knew he could find Sirius in the drama studio, his phone having buzzed earlier with a message informing him of the fact Sirius would be there for the entire afternoon, only he didn’t want to alienate him from the other counsellors by spending all their time together. Traipsing back to the cabin to change out of his uniform, Remus shook off the doubt. There was a time for balance, but it wasn’t the day after your boyfriend reunited with their sibling after years apart.

Both Sirius and Heather jumped at Remus’s knock on the heavy wooden doorframe, the pair deep in conversation. “Oh, I believe that is my cue to leave,” Heather smiled, the expression settling something in Remus he hadn’t even realised needed settling.

“Thanks for all your help today, Heather.” Sirius accepted the broom she handed to him. “Both with this,” he continued, gesturing to the room around him, “and for the advice. You should consider a career as a therapist. Trust me, I should know.”

“Here I was antagonising over my future and Mr Sirius Black solved it in one afternoon,” Heather laughed, sticking her tongue out playfully. “It was no problem, way better than sorting out the games’ equipment shed, anyway. I can’t wait to see what your tiny theatre kids do in here.”

“They’re not tiny, they’re middle schoolers.”

“Exactly, middle schoolers. Tiny,” Remus agreed, stepping into the studio. It smelt of polish and other than a pile in the centre of the floor, any evidence of the years worth of dust that had been allowed to gather was gone.

“The key is not to let them know you think that,” Heather winked.

“This isn’t my first year, you know,” Sirius grumbled, his accent thickening the way it always did when he was even mildly inconvenienced, “Get out of here,” he shooed Heather off. “And talk to June! I definitely saw heart eyes this morning.”

“Well then, you need your eyes testing,” Heather retorted, leaving with a raised eyebrow and a peppy wave.

"Bonjour, mon loup,” Sirius sang, gathering Remus in his arms. At 5”11, Remus wasn’t even short, but Sirius could still easily prop his chin on the top of his head, albeit only briefly. A short breath of air left Sirius’ mouth, almost but not quite a laugh, and Remus found his chin being lifted for a kiss. "Come on, let's go and sit by the lake. I'll tell you everything."

Remus schooled his expression into the most innocent he could manage. "I was just going to ask how your day was."

"Sure." Sirius laughed properly now, the both of them stumbling slightly as he tried to nudge Remus' shoulder. "You're practically vibrating. Thought I was supposed to be the intense one?

“Sometimes it’s my turn,” Remus smirked, pointing out a large, flat rock in the distance that seemed like an ideal sitting place. Sirius nodded, letting Remus guide their slight change in trajectory to head towards it. “You know, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I will always be interested in your life, but if you want this to stay between you and Regulus then I completely understand.”

Sirius flicked his gaze over to Remus briefly, the smile soft on his face. It reminded Remus of when they had still been dancing around one another. Long evening walks where their hands would brush, just barely. Looking back, he didn’t know how they had lasted so long before that almost inevitable kiss. One thunderstorm and two leaking roofs, that was all it had taken in the end. “I know,” Sirius shrugged. Those were the last words he said until they reached the low slab, a once rugged thing that had been smoothed out by a lifetime of exposure. Remus thought there must be something poetic in it, but he was too tired to figure it out.

The quiet lasted long enough for Remus to figure Sirius had changed his mind, playing their hands together as they looked out onto the water.

“They live in California now, they’re here to teach archery and they are non - binary,” Sirius breathed out the sentence, the words blending together and his accent thick, but Remus was practised enough to decipher them.

“California? That’s a long way from Montreal -” Remus toyed with the sleeve of Sirius’ t-shirt. “ - How’d they end up there?”

Sirius' face crumpled a little, quickly gathering himself. “They were staying with a friend of our family’s there, Severus. He always seemed nice, nicer than the rest of their crowd anyway, but it turns out he’s no different to the rest of them. Regulus is trying to get out of there.” A sheepish smile spread over Sirius’ face. “I might have invited him to live with us. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have asked first. They were just so worried and -”

“Hey,” Remus squeezed Sirius's hand. “I’m not going to pretend that a consultation wouldn’t have been nice, but it’s your house -”

“It’s our house,” Sirius frowned.

"The house was bought with your money and I can completely understand and appreciate why you offer a roof over your sibling's head without question."

Sirius played with the necklace, a silver lion, hanging around his throat. Remus lifted his hand to touch its twin, draped around his own neck. "Just like that? Even though I've spent every mention of them detailing how much they had hurt me?"

Turning to face Sirius more surely, Remus gave a comforting smile. "Do you trust them?"

There was a brief pause, but the "yes" that followed was sure and confident.

"That's good enough for me," Remus said. "Shall we go and join everybody for dinner? There's apple pie tonight."

Dinner ended up being the usual ruckus that Remus had become re-accustomed to over the past few days. He loved the way the dining room thrummed with the same energy that radiated throughout meals with his own family. Thomas and James' dares grew more and more ridiculous until Sergei barked at them that he wouldn’t allow them any more BBQ if they did not calm down.

“ -Yeah, so ma Maman had to come and collect me. I think I lasted 5 hours,” Jackson finished his grandiose retelling of his first experience at camp.”

“Nado!” Evgeni set his glass down with a heavy thud. Remus had learned the tall Russian man had the gentlest of spirits, but grace was not an attribute he possessed in large amounts. “Why you go to horse camp if scared of horses?”

“I was 8,” Jackson argued. “I had never seen a horse in real life. It just looked fun.”

Once the rippling laughter dissipated, the conversation evolved into useful hints of tips from those of them that weren’t new on how to handle similar situations with their own campers.

“Hey, Katie,” Remus leaned over Sirius to address the youngest of the Dumais’. She had only arrived yesterday along with her siblings and Sergei’s wife and children, but she’d made herself right at home, squeezing herself between Sirius and Logan, who she had declared her favourite, instead of joining the rest of her family at their table. “Can I steal Sirius please? I need to show him something.”

“It’s time for Katie to go with Anya back to our cabins,” Celeste interrupted. “Viens, ma chérie. Tu peux revenir demain matin.” Katie left with a pout to a round of goodbyes.

“What did you want to show me, mon loup?” Sirius cocked his head curiously.

“Nothing,” Remus admitted sheepishly. “I just wanted to get a good spot under the pavilion before everybody else finishes and comes outside.” Sirius rolled his eyes, letting Remus tug him into a standing position. During camp, the small structure would serve as a meeting point and could fit a dozen or so people in when they were standing, but it was pretty full with Sirius’ 6 foot 3 form sprawled across it, there wasn’t much space for anybody else, and this was Remus’ favourite spot. He could lie under the shelter, a little less exposed to the biting insects that seemed to love him so much and still see everybody on the green around them.

Soon, the space would be filled with eager children, and Remus would be constantly poised to treat the next ailment, but at the moment, he was content to watch this year's counsellors get to know one another better. He was an old hand at this now, however, he could remember the bristling excitement as his first training week had drawn to a close, the knowledge that he was soon to be responsible for people who didn't seem all that much younger than he was, both terrifying and exhilarating.

The sky had been threatening rain for hours now, and it finally fulfilled its promise.

“My hair!” Finn’s screech broke through the chorus of rain. The blonde boy, something in the back of Remus’ brain supplied him with the name Leo, immediately tucked Finn against his side, throwing his jacket over his head. Remus wasn’t sure whether their shaking was as a result of the damp seeping through their clothes or the pair’s laughter.

Remus had always enjoyed people watching, noticing the subtle intricacies of human behaviour when they didn’t realise you were looking, so he caught Leo’s small glance up at Logan just before he put some space between himself and Finn.

Finn wasn’t having any of it though, dragging Leo back to him, attempting to get the small jacket over the top of the both of them.

"Do you see that?" Remus lifted his shoulder, jostling Sirius slightly.

Sirius grunted, the annoying chime of the game he was playing sounding loudly as he progressed to another level. Remus had given up on complaining, and the repetitive nature of swiping candies across the screen seemed to relax Sirius more than it bothered Remus. "See what?"

Leo was standing now, his t-shirt soaked through and his hair plastered against his face in damp strands. Remus couldn't quite work out what he spluttered before walking off with long, quick strides, one last quick look at Logan as he went.

"There's something going on there,' Remus hummed.

"Stop meddling," Sirius laughed.

"I'm not meddling!"

Sirius turned a raised eyebrow on Remus and tucked his phone into the pocket of his jacket before pulling them both down so they lay on their backs. "Listen. I love the sound of the rain."

Remus knew he was being distracted, but the thudding rhythm of heavy droplets against the wooden slats of the rood was incredibly relaxing. Or at least it was until the sheeting downpour didn't stop and they had to dart through it, laughter heaving in their chests to meet the others in the large hall. Celeste sighed, bundling towels into their hands to dry off.

"Nice of you to join us, gentlemen," Dumo said, a guitar propped in his lap. "Take a seat. We were just about to teach our newcomers a few campfire songs. Sans the fire, of course. As two of our most experienced, maybe you could lead?”

“Je te hais,” Sirius grumbled.

Dumo ignored the declaration, and once they were seated he smiled. “Perhaps we will start with Everywhere we go?”

Despite an early reluctance from Sirius the sounds of the song were soon echoing off the walls, the group of counsellors enthusiastically answering Sirius’ calls.

Everywhere we go

People always ask us

Who we are

And where we come from

So we tell them

We’re the Lions

The mighty mighty Lions

And if they can’t hear us

We shout a little louder

We shout a little louder!

Dumo was lenient, taking over leading them through a few more songs himself until he faked a large yawn. “Well, it’s bed time for me. I’ll leave the guitar for anybody who wants to play. And remember, no matter how much we try to teach our campers such fun songs, they’d rather learn whatever routine is popular on Tip Top or whatever that thing is called, so be prepared!”

Logan commandeered the guitar quickly, holding it strong against his thigh and strumming it with a relaxed ease Remus wasn't sure he'd seen in the man before. He played through a few songs, others slowly filtering out as time went by until only a handful of people remained.

“Do my song, please?” Finn asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Logan shook his head, “Not here.”

Finn’s lower lip dropped into a pout and Remus saw the exact moment Logan succumbed to the expression. Remus didn’t blame him at all, Finn’s face bore an eerie resemblance to Bambi and only a monster could deny it.

“Fine.”

The slow chords started and the room quieted as Logan began to sing. It was more romantic than Remus had expected from the younger man.

And you can tell everybody

This is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in the words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world.

Logan and Finn were so invested in one another that Remus wasn’t sure they noticed Leo slipping quietly from the room.

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justkending · 4 years

Text

The Slip Up. Chapter 7.

Series Summary: After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things finally seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Single mom) Reader

Word Count: 2900+

Warnings: Language, adulting, mentions of sexual past.

A/N: Guy’s writers block has been an actual bitch lately. For some reason this series has been so hard for me to figure out where I want to go at this stage of it. I have a few ideas and end parts made up, but this middle part is like a blank space in my mind... Anyway! I hope you enjoy what little I was able to throw together, and I’m sorry it took so long to get out!!

Chapter 7:

Rori had a soccer game that weekend, and though Y/N planned on just going with Hope and Scott since Doris was in the age group up, she saw it as a great safe place for Bucky to meet her.

They had agreed to not quite tell Rori that he was her father considering they wanted it to be the right time. Y/N more apprehensive of things working out and scared that she would give Rori false hope of a father figure. Bucky just wanted to ease into it and not scare the little girl away. Though in the back of his head he for sure was ready to step up to the plate. But he respected Y/N’s wishes and told her that he would wait until she was ready.

That was the thing about Bucky that Y/N couldn’t quite wrap her head around. He was so relaxed and understanding of it all. Almost too understanding. She wanted to sabotage the whole situation in her head, but every time she thought of a test for Bucky, he would pass it with flying colors.

Asking him to wait to tell Rori the truth, she expected frustration and impatience of the idea. Instead she was surprised with agreeance and a sweet response of, “Whatever you think is best.”

When she told him about how she thought way back when possibly terminating the pregnancy when all this happened, she expected rage and disgust. And once again she was approached with understanding and empathy.

Even still, she was always going to stay on her toes. It was the instinct of being a mother.

“Ok sunshine. First real game today. You excited?” Y/N asked as she pulled Rori’s little jersey over her head.

“Yes! Coach Maximoff said to kick some petunias when I get out there!” she said excitedly jumping up and down once the shirt was on.

“Of course Pietro would say that,” Y/N laughed with a sigh. “Ok, go grab your cleats and bag, and I’ll go get the cooler of snacks for the team.”

“Yes ma’am!” Rori fake saluted, and ran to the living room where all her things were.

“Dork,” Y/N chuckled, standing up and going to the kitchen for the last few things.

______________________

“So what time will he be here?” Hope asked as they walked to the field.

“Said he would be here right when Rori’s game starts. He had an important meeting or something beforehand, but was going to cut it short for her.”

“Wow, cutting off important meetings for a child you just figured out was yours 2 days ago. Color me impressed,” Hope smiled nudging her friend.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she began setting up a seat and pulling up the cooler next to her, Rori already in the field and kicking a ball around with a friend.

“Heads up. Coach is coming your direction,” Hope patted Y/N’s back as she began setting up a seat herself.

“Oh God. I forgot about his flirting-”

“Hello Miss. Y/L/N. You look as radiant as ever, but what’s new?” Pietro Maximoff, the coach of Rori’s team, smirked and sauntered up to the girls.

“Piet, how are you doing?” Y/N smiled politely. She never actually hated the little comments he would make. She usually just laughed them off, and Pietro was kind about it. It was more playful banter than anything to her.

“Always deflecting the compliments. I’m good though. How are you ladies doing this evening?” he smiled crossing his arms across his wide chest.

“As good as ever. Doris is sad she isn’t on your team though,” Hope said plopping down and smiling up at him.

“I know. They always grow up and leave me. Breaks my heart seeing them graduate from the Blue Jay’s to the Hawks. Next thing you know she’ll be in the Eagles,” he pouted.

“Ugh, I’m not ready for that moment. Rori’s got one more year with the Blue Jay’s before she moves on,” Y/N said looking out to the little girl with braided pigtails.

“I’m not ready for that either because that means I won’t be seeing much of you either,” Pietro said with an exaggerated pout.

“That does suck for you, doesn’t it?” Y/N bantered back, getting a laugh out of him.

“Love your spirit Y/N/N,” Piet winked, shooting a finger gun at her.

“Don’t you have kids to coach or something. We have our first game today sir, and if I remember correctly, you told my daughter she was going to kick some petunias,” Y/N said with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

Pietro’s genuine laugh turned to a nervous one as he started stepping backwards. “You’re right. I have to go get the girls in a huddle.”

Watching the man quickly run back to the girls, he blew the whistle bringing them in.

“You know, if you let him. He would a hundred percent ask you on a date,” Hope chuckled, grabbing a water bottle and an apple out of the cooler.

“Exactly why I won’t let him. I don’t need that right now.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just letting you know he definitely has a crush on you.”

“Who has a crush on who?” a voice said from behind.

The two girls turned to see the brunette and blue eyed man. He was earlier than Y/N expected. As he walked up to the two he had a boyish grin littering his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude. Just sounded like some juicy gossip,” he chuckled, hands in his pockets. He had on a pair of jeans and an old band shirt on. He looked extremely casual for having an important meeting beforehand.

“You’re fine!” Y/N laughed with a blush at the conversation he had walked in on. “We were just goofing around.” He smiled in return and nodded his head before looking over at Hope. “Oh, this is Hope. My friend from high school and college that I told you about. Her daughter was-”

“The one you were picking up that day. You said her name was Doris, right?” he reached out his hand to Hope and smiled.

“That would be my munchkin,” Hope smiled back standing and shaking his hand. “You must be Bucky.”

“That’s me.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you could come watch Rori play today.”

“I am too. I’m glad Y/N let me in on the fun activities,” he smiled a little wider turning to look at Y/N.

“Uh, Hope’s husband will be here later. His name’s Scott. Fair warning he’s kinda a dork,” Y/N chuckled, crossing her arms. All of a sudden nerves overcoming her, like a high school girl on a first date.

“Kinda is an understatement,” Hope laughed sitting back in her seat.

“Well, I’m excited to meet him,” Bucky said, beginning to rock on his heels. Awkward silence filling the air. “So, uh, where’s she at? I’m assuming already on the field?” he said, peering forward and scanning the grass.

“She’s number 11,” Y/N turned trying to find her herself. “Um, there!” she pointed. “Little brown pigtails whipping in the wind.”

They were still warming up some, but for 6 year olds it was mostly just running in circles and kicking a ball. No actual warm up happening.

“Wow,” Bucky said softly to himself. He was squinting some trying to get a better look at her. “She, uh, she looks-”

“A lot like you?” Y/N chuckled.

“I was going to say you,” Bucky said looking back at Y/N with his own grin. “But yeah, she definitely has me in her.”

“She definitely does,” Y/N mumbled to herself when she thought of those bright blue orbs.

A few moments of silence go by as they watch the group of 5-6 year olds running around with no structure on the field for “warm-ups”.

“So, uh, someone has a crush on you?” Bucky said, clearing his throat while looking straight forward. Trying his best to come off nonchalant.

“Crush?” Y/N questioned, before realizing what he meant. “Oh! Ha, Hope thinks Rori’s coach has a crush on me, but he’s just a flirt,” she chuckled.

“Oh, I see,” Bucky smiled softly nodding his head as he put his hand in his pockets again.

Another moment of silence, but this one a little more awkward.

“Uh, so I brought an extra chair for you if you want,” Y/N spoke up.

“Thanks,” he smiled turning to her. “I didn’t even think about grabbing a chair.”

“Sure thing,” she smiled heading back to the set up her and Hope had started. “I always try and keep an extra in the back of the car cause you never know what parent is going to forget.”

They got situated while they waited for the game to start, and to say it was kinda awkward was putting it lightly. Y/N didn’t really know what to talk about, and Bucky was watching Rori intently on the field wanting to soak up every moment as if he couldn’t miss anymore like this.

“So, Bucky? Y/N tells me you're an architect,” Hope spoke up.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, breaking his concentration and smiling kindly at her. “It’s been something I’ve loved doing since I was a teenager. Figured I’d make a career out of it.”

“Makes sense,” Hope smiled.

The two getting to know each other for the next few minutes before a whistle blew and the game started.

Like Y/N had warned him, it wasn’t much of a soccer game as it was kids just running and trying to get a foot on the ball. Rori though was competitive and actually tried making it to the goal unlike the other kids. Bucky was impressed with her coordination for such a young girl, and found himself smiling through the whole experience.

That was his daughter. His blood.

Y/N looked over when she saw Bucky fully immersed in the sport, and a smile of her own grew. She could see the pride and excitement on his face. Clearly he was happy about this new part of his life. Clearly he was excited about hopefully becoming Rori’s father figure. It almost made her wish that all those years ago Bucky had been there… She wished she hadn’t gave up so fast on bringing him into their lives.

“Y/N,” Hope nudged her. “Y/N?”

“Hmm, what?” Y/N said snapping out of her daydream.

“Games over. We’re about to start packing up,” Hope said.

“Dang, today’s game seemed faster than the rest,” Y/N shook out her head and stood. “Scott, didn’t make it,” she said looking around just now realizing.

“Yeah, he called saying he would be here for Doris, but couldn't make Rori’s. Sorry,” she pouted.

“It’s all good,” Y/N waved off.

“Hey,” she looked past Y/N seeing Bucky was still watching the field. “You guys should go celebrate her win. Just you three. Don’t worry about staying for Dori’s game. She’ll have more.”

“No, we never miss Doris’s games. You guys-”

“Go, Y/N. Introduce Bucky to Rori and vise versa. That was the whole point of the today,” Hope egged on, seeing her friend begin to get nervous. Y/N opened her mouth to argue and stall. “Nope,” she shook her head before looking over at Bucky. “Hey Bucky! Rori, Y/N, and you should go celebrate with ice cream. Y/N and her usually do that after a win!”

Bucky turned to the girls and his eyes widened as if coming back to reality. “Oh, I don’t want to impose-”

“Nonsense, that was the reason for today. Right Y/N?” she elbowed her friend.

On the outside Y/N looked completely normal, but on the inside she had more nerves than anything.

“Right,” she nodded with a kind smile. “That way you and Rori can get to know each other. She would be confused if we didn’t get her celebratory ice cream.”

“I would love that then,” Bucky smiled excitedly.

“Well, you guys have fun!” Hope grinned. “I’m going to make sure Doris is ready to go. It was nice meeting you Bucky!” Hope began walking to the field waving a quick goodbye to Buck.

The two walked to the field where Rori was jumping up and down with her teammates as she congratulated the little girl who made the winning goal for the team.

“Hey sunshine!” Y/N said bending down and opening her arms for Rori.

“Mommy!” Rori shouted, running over. “Did you see that assist I did?”

“I saw them all baby! You were so good out there!” Y/N congratulated as she ruffled her hair.

“Hi,” Rori said next looking up at the man standing behind her mom with an awestruck face on him.

“Oh, sweetheart. This is my…” A pause as she figured out a word.

“I’m a friend of your mom,” Bucky said snapping out of his staring and smiling at the little girl. “My name’s Bucky,” he waved.

“Hi Bucky. That’s a cool name! My name’s Rori!” she smiled walking out of her mom’s arms and reaching a hand out for him to shake.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised at the gesture, and he slowly took her little hand and shook it as gently as he could. Almost like he was shaking a porcelain doll’s glass fingers. He looked over to Y/N who was still squatted and turned to them. She had a quirked smile and laughed lightly at his response.

“Nice to meet you Rori. You have a pretty cool name too,” he said with a smile that he just couldn’t hold back looking at the little girl's face.

Up close he really did see him in her. Her eyes looked like he was staring straight into a mirror. She had little freckles flecked like gold specks across her nose. Maybe that was her mom in her. Her hair was also like his. A dark brown hair almost black, but under the sun, the highlights of lighter brown and almost reddish tints peaking through.

“Uh, Rori? Would it be ok if Bucky joined us for our little ice cream date?” Y/N asked, standing and coming over.

“Yeah!” she jumped. “Have you ever been to Moo Moo’s?” she asked Bucky.

“Uh, I can’t say I have,” he laughed at her excitement.

“Don’t worry! I’ve tried basically all the flavors now, so I can help you pick one out,” she said grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

“That sounds perfect,” Bucky grinned looking at the giant bag that was basically her size. “Since you’re going to help me out, do you want me to carry that for you?”

“Um, actually, yeah. It’s a little heavy today cause my friend gave me an early birthday gift. But she says I can’t open it until then,” she said, handing off the bag to Bucky’s outstretched hand.

Y/N came up to the side of them grabbing Rori’s hand, leaving the little girl in the middle of her and Bucky as they walked to the car.

“Which friend?” Y/N asked.

“Jenny. She said she wasn’t going to be in town for the birthday party, and her mom told her to give it to me now so they wouldn’t forget,” Rori went on to explain as they walked. Perfectly casual with the new man next to them.

Y/N looked over at Bucky seeing him smile at the little girl as he looked back and forth at her and the sidewalk. Y/N was always going to be a little apprehensive about a man she hardly knew coming in and taking the role of her daughter’s father. I mean you never know who people truly are, so defenses are usually high. But something about his grin was genuine and made her feel at ease about the situation. She started to realize anytime she was with him he didn’t give her bad feelings or make her uncomfortable. How that was possible with a practical stranger, she wasn’t sure.

Rori had moved on to talking about the game by the time they got to the car, and Bucky was nodding as she looked straight to him to explain her position, which Y/N was sure he already knew. They paused realizing they took two different cars.

“Hey Bucky. If you want we can all drive in my car to the ice cream shop since it’s down the block, and I can bring you back here when we’re done,” Y/N offered.

Bucky looked up and the grin he had while looking or talking with Rori was stuck on his face. “Uh, yeah, that would actually be great,” he chuckled looking back to Rori. “That ok with you?”

“Oh! If you do, I can show you my DVD collection!” Rori jumped running to get in the back seat.

“DVD collection?” Bucky chuckled.

“She has almost every Disney movie you can think of,” Y/N laughed back, taking the bag from him and throwing it in the trunk of the SUV. “She’s very proud of it.”

“I can see that,” Bucky laughed.

“Wait ‘till you see how excited she gets when she shows you all the kinds of ice cream she’s tried. She calls herself the expert.”

“And I’m sure she is.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #BUCKY AU #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel modern au #marvel #mar #Marvel Family #marvel series #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #justkending #reader insert #bucky barnes modern au

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panharmonium · 3 years

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@dreamersscape please forgive me for tagging you in a post to respond to your comments; tumblr’s reply feature is hard to have an extended/coherent conversation on, and I’m so excited to talk to a kindred Naruto spirit that I knew I was gonna write too much for it all to fit in that space XD

re: hinata - Oh my gosh, YES, my sister and I were so frustrated by how they just completely never addressed that moment again. I wasn't surprised, because it's been clear from the beginning that this show doesn't really care much about women, so the female characters' storylines getting dropped or never explored in the first place is pretty much what I've always expected, but it's still infuriating.

Honestly, the only good thing about this show's general disinterest in women is that it means that I don't place any blame on in-story Naruto for never addressing what Hinata did for him, because I know the fact that we don't see him dealing with her confession isn't actually intended to communicate anything about his reaction/non-reaction/level of investment; it's literally just a function of the fact that the writer doesn't care about her story. It's the same way I feel about how we see so much less one-on-one time between Kakashi and Sakura - her lack of screentime with him isn't something about which a person can credibly argue "Oh, this means Kakashi doesn't care about her enough and he's a bad teacher etc etc," because the imbalance isn’t a deliberate writing decision we're supposed to analyze for characterization. It's a reflection of the fact that the entire show is super sexist. XD

re: danzo: It’s one thing to have your villain believe himself to the hero of his own story, and like, another to have Danzo basically tout having darkness in your heart being a great thing and encouraging it’s presence/cultivating it - lmao YES! And honestly, this is why I actually find Danzo LESS infuriating than the Third Hokage. Like, Danzo is Super Evil and every time he exploits another child I want to watch him die all over again, but at least he like....owns his horribleness? Whereas Hiruzen is the biggest hypocrite on the planet - when I rewatched the Shonen Jump stuff a while back (my sister and I took a little break prior to Season 11 and rewatched some old stuff), I couldn't stand listening to Hiruzen go on and on about how the entire Leaf Village is his family and it's his role to protect all of them etc etc, because like - he literally covered up the genocide of Sasuke's entire family and let the perpetrator remain in power (and that was before I even knew about all these other crimes he allowed to go unpunished!!!) Danzo may be the Worst, but at least he's not pretending to be anything other than what he is. Hiruzen is still acting like he's everybody's sweet old grandpa, and that makes me even more angry than Danzo's straight-up horribleness. (And I do agree with you, they definitely lean harder into the "Lord Third is amazing" stuff pre-Shippuden, I just still feel confused about what the show is ultimately trying to say about him because we haven't gotten an explicit enough condemnation of his choices yet, and I feel like it's way overdue XD )

re: minato - Hard agree that Minato is an enigma. I don't feel like I fully understand him either - and not in a bad way, just in the sense that he's hard to read. The toughest thing for me to parse was always how distant he seemed with his students, which was surprising to me at first, because he'd been built up as sort of this "ideal shinobi" figure for such a long time, but to me, an ideal shinobi teacher looks more like...well, Kakashi, to be honest. And it took a while for me to reconcile with the fact that Minato and Kakashi really do just relate to their students very differently. I think Minato has always been a soldier, and I think he sees children as soldiers, too - not in an evil way at all, just in the sense that this is how the shinobi world works, and how it has always worked. It's not a "wrong" way to perceive shinobi kids, in the context of the story's universe. And so when things happen to those kids, he absolutely cares, but it's also sort of just a grim fact of life for him. It's like when Kushina tells him she doesn't want to make Naruto a jinchuriki, and she asks 'why do we have to do that to him, why does he have to suffer that way for the sake of the balance of power between nations,' and Minato's response is “Because our family is Shinobi.” That was a really telling moment for me in terms of how he sees the world. It's not something I'm interested in condemning him for, like you said; I don't think the story is ever asking us to do that, it’s just a philosophy that's very different from how Kakashi sees things and what he thinks children's experiences should be like.

I guess what I ultimately think (from the material we’ve seen so far, at least) is that Minato seems to perceive the loss of his students as something that Kakashi is struggling with, not something he himself is agonizing over. It’s a very sad thing that happened, of course, but it’s just part of the way their world works/a function of the times they live in. It's not something Minato is tormenting himself about. Whereas I think that if Kakashi ever lost a kid, it would have killed him. And I don't think this fact is in any way supposed to paint Minato as a bad person. He's not! All it means is that there is a generational difference between the world Kakashi and Co. are trying to create and the world Minato always knew, and people like Minato are doing the best they can with the framework they have.

I do like the guy a lot - and I wonder what he might have been like if he had lived to see a permanent peace established.

re: little Yamato - oh boy, those episodes nearly ended me. I am already very, very, VERY weak for Kakashi and Yamato’s friendship, and seeing Kakashi rescue Yamato from that horrible place (literally and metaphorically) was too much for me to handle. Kakashi’s silhouette replacing Danzo in Yamato’s memories of being rescued from Orochimaru’s lab - that slew me. And the way Danzo tells Yamato “you have no past, no future, no name” juxtaposed with Kakashi introducing Yamato as Tenzo because he remembers from three years ago how Yamato once rebelled at being called Kinoe and yelled “MY NAME IS TENZO” - Kakashi just using that chosen name without hesitation, without question, without needing to be told...it all ties back into the recent thematic throughline the show is working with about Identity - the importance of the Tailed Beasts having names, Kabuto’s desperate and misguided search for “who and what he is,” Itachi reclaiming his true self by undoing the reanimation justu and declaring “I am Itachi Uchiha of the Leaf Village,” Obito claiming that his real name doesn’t matter anymore, that he’s Nobody...it’s fantastic how they’re pulling all this together.

re: Kakashi and little Naruto - oh man, the feelings. I agree with you that Kakashi was in no place to be dealing with this, but certainly under different circumstances I think he would have loved to be a part of baby Naruto’s life. I actually think the reasoning behind “let’s put Kakashi in a situation where he’s in close contact with someone bringing new life into the world” is sound - I think that would be a really good thing for him! Just not in the sense of “you’re Kushina’s personal bodyguard, so if anything happens to her and the baby you can blame yourself for it.” XD Like...Minato could have invited Kakashi in for dinner sometimes, instead of having him constantly stand guard under their window??? If it had been more “we care about you and we want you to be a part of our family”....ugh, that would have been amazing. Kakashi is already SO good with Naruto (who is NOT by any means an easy kid to manage) - he just has such good instincts about how to talk to that kid and teach him in ways that work WITH Naruto’s particular brand of high motivation/low frustration tolerance, ping-pong emotional extremes, explosive energy levels, zero impulse control, and an inability to process more than one thing at a time. Handling Naruto effectively would be a challenging project for any teacher, never mind taking care of Naruto and two other kids, but Kakashi is a natural at it. It would have been awesome to see what Kakashi was like with Naruto when they were even younger...though the Feels might knocked me out.

[also, you mentioned Naruto and Obito - I cannot even tell you the Extremest Agonies I was in when the big reveal happened and I had to hear Naruto blankly go “who is he” - utterly clueless, without the faintest idea that he’s looking at the person who shaped his entire moral philosophy. The amount of things that these kids don’t know...that fact that Naruto has been quoting this very person all his life and making all his major life decisions based on the lesson Kakashi relayed to them on Day One - Obito’s words - oh boy oh boy I was not capable of handling that even the littlest bit.]

#*high fives your brain right back*#feel free to gush about this show anytime - i am right there with ya! :D #replies #naruto #pan watches naruto

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crashingmeteorz · 3 years

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rich kid runaways (ft. yuexzukoxtoph friendship)

for my 100 Followers Celebration - credit to @aroacebitchboi for this amazing idea!

zuko faces his father in the agni kai, and when he is told what he must do in order to be welcome in his homeland again, he just says “fuck this” and runs away.

he’s not sure where he’s gonna go, just that he has to get out, and fast, because his dad’s gonna kill him. like. for real. so he stows away on a fire navy ship headed Literally Anywhere Else (and maybe the soldiers don’t care! because he’s 13 and hurting children is a disgrace! maybe they sneak him food and blankets idk!)

yue, meanwhile, in the north pole, has just been told she is going to enter an arranged marriage for the good of her people when she turns 16. respectfully, she asks her father what exactly this marriage will do, politically speaking. the north isn’t at war with itself, in fact they’re more united than ever. maybe if it were a southern water tribe boy, sure, but no, it’s going to be a northern boy.

her father just tells her it’s imperative to the stability of the tribe that they uphold tradition. yue, realizing this is bullshit, even at the tender age of 13, says “fuck this”, and runs away.

she is all but screwed without waterbending or any practical survival knowledge - except, she’s been chosen by the moon spirit. when she steals a boat and heads south, the moon takes pity on its ward and keeps her safe, at least on her waterbound journey. once she lands on the northern shores of the earth kingdom, yue depends on the kindness of strangers to survive.

zuko, meanwhile, is angry and mistrustful and afraid when he ends up on the western shores of the earth kingdom, and he depends entirely on his determination to survive. he learns to live off the land the hard way, and avoids major cities and towns for fear of being found out as a firebender. of course, if he’s ever spotted, he’s regarded with pity and empathy because of the festering burn on his face, but zuko doesn’t realize that.

yue never stays in one place too long, bouncing from family to family and learning more skills in a few months than she was ever taught in her whole life up north. she cooks and cleans and sews, yes, but she also farms and skins hunted animals and does house repairs. she is happily taken into homes because of her ability to heal - though never a waterbender, yue still learned basic healing with the other northern women, and can manage even bad wounds all on her own.

afraid she’ll be recognized by her vibrant hair, however, yue continues her journey south, considering running to the south pole for sanctuary. she wonders how their women are treated. zuko, meanwhile, lives alone in the wilderness most of the time, and moves very slowly up the west coast.

they’re 14 when their paths cross. three fire nation soldiers harass yue while she’s journeying along a rural road, asking her for a made-up toll. usually trading in work, yue has no money to speak of. the soldiers threaten violence, and, though he is afraid of being caught by his countrymen, zuko was never one to let bullies have power over the innocent.

he emerges from the forest, swords in hand, attacking the soldiers. at first it seems like he has the upper hand - and then he stumbles, and the soldiers laugh and pull him up to beat him. zuko panics and relies on instinct - firebending at the soldiers and burning them badly. they run away yelling, and zuko panics, certain that he’ll be caught out. he goes to run, but yue stops him.

“you’re hurt,” she says, pointing to where he’d been cut by the soldiers’ swords. “please, let me help you. it’s the least i can do.”

“you’re not scared of me?” zuko asks in confusion, looking around wildly, afraid his father will pop out of the trees and strike him down.

“you saved me,” yue says, just as confused, because between the rescue and the obvious burn mark, she doesn’t really think this boy would have any reason to hurt her. also he’s kinda shrimpy, and yue, who has built up some strength through hard work, is pretty sure she could take him. “come on, i have some herbs. is there clean water nearby?”

shocked that anyone in the earth kingdom wouldn’t call for zuko’s arrest on the spot, zuko leads yue to a stream in the forest. yue silently patches his wounds, and then eventually asks if she can get a look at his eye. apart from the initial work of the fire nation healers, zuko hadn’t really done much to treat his eye, and it’s so badly crusted he can barely see out of it. when yue reaches for him, he jerks away.

“i don’t need your help!” he snaps, standing and shaking himself off. “if it weren’t for you, i wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

“excuse me.” says yue, standing as well, because who is he to talk to her that way? “i didn’t ask you for help, you chose to do that. and you’re mad at those soldiers, not me, so why don’t you try being a little nicer?”

they stare at each other furiously for a moment. then yue sighs and says “i think i can help you with your eye, so that you can see. let me do that and i’ll leave you alone.”

it’s painful, and a very slow process, but with water warmed by zuko’s bending (”just heat up the water.” “someone could see!” “we’re in the middle of a literal forest! who’s spying! the frogs???”) and a few medicinal herbs, yue manages to clear away most of the crust and dead skin over zuko’s eye. when he finally opens it again, he’s shocked to find that he can see.

“well, i won’t bother you anymore,” yue says huffily, moving to leave the forest. as she does, she realizes she doesn’t know where the heck she is. zuko’s still marveling at how different the world looks with two eyes.

“umm, which way is out?” yue asks him. zuko snaps back to reality and says “oh, um. i’ll show you.” because he is, admittedly, grateful.

of course, when they try to leave the forest, they run into bandits and barely escape. then yue reccomends they take a country road, and zuko reluctantly agrees, except they run into more bandits. after the fourth round of bandits in two weeks, they’re convinced they’ve been cursed with bad luck.

“can we just go to a town or a city?” yue asks, panting from their desperate escape. “we’re not having much luck living in the wild.”

“i was fine until you showed up!” zuko retorts, panting as well. “fine! then i’ll leave!” yue yells back.

“wait,” zuko says, and yue turns, tapping her foot impatiently. “i’m sorry,” zuko says, to yue’s shock, because if her few weeks with this kid who calls himself lee has taught her anything, it’s that he does not apologize. “i don’t really...understand, um, local people and-“

“let me do the talking,” yue says, gentle as always, reaching for zuko’s arm. he smiles at her, a real, happy smile, and they make their way to the nearest earth kingdom town.

after that, yue and zuko are inseparable. they argue a lot, naturally, but they become good friends, too. yue says she always wanted a sibling, zuko says he always wanted a different sibling, so it’s nice, to have each other. without going into too much detail, they bond over their shared experiences of pre-determined destinies and overbearing parental figures (“my father said i have to get married for the good of the people! what does that even mean?” “tell me about it, my father got mad that i talked out of turn, so he tried to kill me.” “...he what?” “hahaha just kidding that’s not a normal thing that happens.”) no matter how scary it gets, they agree, the earth kingdom makes them feel freer than they ever have before.

does the food they cook suck because they’ve never had to cook in their lives? yes. do they sometimes put all four feet in their mouths because of how they speak to the poor people of the earth kingdom? yes. have they ticked off a lot of fellow teenagers for acting bratty? yes. (“what, so, you don’t have palaces around here?” yue asks. “yeah, where are the royal gardens?” zuko asks. “leave before we rock your shit.” says Every Teenager They Meet.) but at the end of the day, they’re happy.

at 15 they reach a city called gaoling. by now they can both do enough odd jobs that they always have some pocket money on them, although yue still struggles to behave in a way that isn’t dainty and delicate, and zuko still struggles with basic social skills.

they’re getting ready to move along, when they’re stopped by a girl. she’s young, about 11, and entirely blind. she’s being chased by a loud crowd, who seem to be just around the corner.

“please!” the girl says. “help hide me! they’re after me! i think they’re going to kidnap me!” yue and zuko, who are the captains of the child-protection-squad, immediately move to protect the girl.

“this way!” zuko says, and the three of them run down narrow streets and alleyways, in and around shops, until they’re stopped at the city gate by the mob going after the girl.

“alright, kid,” the leader, a tall, buff man with long greasy hair says. “you’ve stolen from us for the last time.”

“how many time do i have to tell you?” the girl bellows, much different than her sweet and innocent pleas from before. “i won fair and square! you’re just mad because you got your butt kicked by a little girl!”

before zuko and yue can even react, the girl pummels the mob of men with an avalanche of rocks, and then launches the earth they’re standing on into the air, landing them far outside of the city limits in a dizzying display.

“woo! that was awesome!” the girl says gleefully pumping her arms. zuko and yue are both trying to wrap their heads around what just happened. “thanks for the help. not that i needed it, i just didn’t want my parents’ guards to see me bending...i wasn’t really planning on running away, but, i mean, i doubt they’ll even notice i’m gone-”

“just a second,” yue says, collecting herself. zuko’s jaw is still hanging open. “who are you?”

the girl grins smugly. “name’s toph. who are you?”

i cannot fully express how much i love this idea. top-notch. god-tier. thank you again!

#rich kid runaways #100 follower celebration #zuko #yue #toph #atla #avatar the last airbender #life happens wherever queue are

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 3 years

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Winter Whumperland Day 11: Vows

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 11. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 10 'Ruin'. During the months after his son's disappearance, Stoick has trouble coping and finds himself lost in memories.

Warning: /

Rating: Teen and up

Characters: Stoick, Gobber, Valka, Hiccup, Fishlegs, Dagur, Astrid, Heather, Snotlout, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: Past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 006

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Falling Through Ice”

Whumpee: Hiccup, Stoick, Gobber, Valka

Author’s Notes: Okay, so believe it or not, I did finish this one waaay back in December. But I didn't want to post it until I finished Day 12, which then turned out to be so long I needed to divide it into two parts. Day 12 part 2 still isn't finished yet, but after much too long, I did finally have the energy to get through proofreading this one.

So there you have it, here's Day 11 at long last!

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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It’s through a call in the late morning that Stoick received the news. He was sleeping in for once, something he rarely does as he enjoys waking up early in the morning to get the most work out of a day.

That day, he slept in and it was the ringtone of the smartphone Hiccup made him get that woke him up. He grabbed it and sat up before he answered tiredly.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Haddock, sir?” He recognized the voice as belonging to that of Astrid Hofferson, his son’s girlfriend.

“Yes, lass?” He rubbed in his heavy eyes. How did sleeping in longer make him more than waking up with the sun did?

“We think something’s happened with Hiccup. We think he’s missing.”

It was news Stoick never thought he would ever get to hear and he would’ve thought it a prank, if it wasn’t for the tremble in the girl’s voice. Astrid has always seemed tough to him and a terrible liar, like Hiccup. That was genuine emotion in her tone.

That was how he found out his son was missing.

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In the beginning, there was a fire driving Stoick forwards.

When his son’s friends called to tell him that they hadn’t seen or heard from Hiccup in a worryingly amount of time when he should’ve been taking his dragon home, Stoick was quick to come over.

He met with the five and the dragon, the one Hiccup was supposed to return to the sanctuary he had escaped from just to see his human companion.

He’d gotten their stories in person, spent another couple of hours trying to reach Hiccup, then searched the places he could’ve possibly gone to, even visiting Gobber and calling Valka, neither of which had seen a sign of him either. After a whole night wasted on trying to reach him, Stoick finally went to the police.

The friends had to do their story again, they were taken seriously, Stoick provided with a description and a picture, it was on the news, posters were printed and posted, it was a whole process, but they were fired up and stubborn in bringing him home.

Then days passed with no real news, then weeks, and then months of nothing. Nothing but sick minds who get some sort of kick out prank calling a worried father and grieving friends and girlfriend.

Stoick went out there himself to search for his son. The coffee shop he worked at, his street, the neighboring streets, he searched the entire city for just a single sign of Hiccup. And if he thought the police wasn’t doing enough, he’d hound them into doing more.

In the beginning, there was no short supply of spirit in his desire to find Hiccup, but now it’s been months and he feels like he’s already running on fumes.

He’s not going to stop, he’s never going to stop, but there are days where he can only sit on the couch in a darkened room and nothing more.

It doesn’t help that the holidays are fast approaching and all they do now is add to his sour mood. If Hiccup isn’t found soon, this’ll be his first without his son and that does not sit well with Stoick at all.

But anyway, Gobber is here, too.

“You know, Stoick, you scowl any more, you’re going to scare even me away.” Gobber jokes with him, attempting to lighten the mood with a light joke. The two have been silently and mindlessly watching whatever crosses their way, hoping to chase away any and all thought as they bring them both nothing but pain.

Gobber is heartbroken, too, jokes and faith in their son’s stubbornness used to help him cling to the hope that they’ll see him again.

At first, it was the hope that they’ll see him again soon, nowadays it’s the hope that they’ll see him again someday, whether dead or alive. Because Gobber isn’t a fool, he knows the first few days are very crucial in a missing person’s case, especially the first 24 hours. Isn’t that what those cop shows always claim? Hiccup has already been gone for months.

He wasn’t able to do much in the beginning. When it came to searching for Hiccup out there on the street and surrounding forests, he was only able to come along for so much with a leg and an arm missing. But with jokes, by talking with Stoick, or just keeping him company, he can help the man be less alone in his suffering.

Stoick hasn’t left the house in days, has stopped returning Valka’s call, and Gobber thinks that’s an alarming thing. The last thing his friend needs is to cut himself off from his family and Hiccup’s friends.

Taking his glare off the tv, which he isn’t paying attention to, anyway, Stoick instead scowls at Gobber.

“Do you truly think that I am in the mood for jokes, Gobber?” He asks, not all that happy to deal with Gobber’s attempt at humor, to say the least.

“Only for tasteful ones!” Gobber replies, his cheer still very much intact. Or that’s what he wants Stoick and those friends of Hiccup’s to believe.

Wordlessly, Stoick looks back at the tv. Apparently, they’ve been watching a channel about DIYs, a chair is being constructed in the current program. He hadn’t even noticed before.

Gobber sighs and looks back at the tv, the living room bathing in darkness except for the light from the screen. Once upon a time, he could at least annoy Stoick into interacting with him, now he can’t even accomplish that anymore.

And if he can’t reach Stoick… Well, it does little good for his own mental health.

Though usually a man that likes a clean house, Stoick has really been letting the place go as there are dishes and cans and filth everywhere. Not that Gobber can fault him for that as his own housekeeping isn’t what it used to be, though it’s always been on the messy side.

Stoick hadn’t wanted to see him either, further backing up his worries that his friend is isolating himself from the outside world. It’s only because Gobber insisted by pushing right past him and forced his way into the home that he isn’t alone now.

Gazing at the silent man, he wonders what he’s thinking now.

Stoick is thinking of Hiccup, for sure, he always is these past months. He shuts himself off to avoid the media, to avoid people who will recognize him from the tireless interviews, to avoid being bothered, running into Astrid or any of her and Hiccup’s friends, or coming across any reminders of his son. Gobber guesses those are the reasons that Stoick no longer goes outside and he only wishes the other would let him in.

Gobber’s assumption couldn’t be more right. In his attempt to hide and stop his endless thoughts and worrying, all Stoick does is think and fret and tear himself apart for his failure.

As a father, he’s supposed to protect his child, that has been his duty from the day he and Valka decided to expand their family. He followed through on this while Valka was pregnant with their son, he held him as soon as he could after birth and promised him that he wouldn’t know a single day of strive, and he tried and tried every single day of the boy’s short lived life to make it come true.

Now look where his incompetence has left him, left Hiccup.

And before this, there were at least two more times when he felt, and was, absolutely useless.

The second time was when a dragon attacked his son, scarred his back, and mangled his leg so badly it had to be taken.

The very first, it was during a snowy winter when his son was 12-years-old and that is the particular moment he’s thinking of now.

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“Be careful!” He remembers warning his son that cold afternoon as his friends had come to ask him outside to play, which is slowly devolving into “hanging out” as they age. Not a bad idea, Valka had convinced him and she was still his wife at the time.

Hiccup was a young boy with plenty of friends, he should make use of his childhood while he still can before the inevitable responsibilities of life will whisk him away. He should enjoy himself, that is what Valka said to convince him to let Hiccup outside.

Back then, Oswald, a good friend of Stoick’s, was still alive. Back then, Dagur was still a good boy and Heather was a young girl full of life, who didn’t need to struggle to make ends meet following the loss of her father and her brother’s troubles.

But Stoick knew there was something off about the boy from the beginning. Dagur was too reckless for his tastes, always seeking trouble in some way, never listening to his father. That day, it was Hiccup he dragged down with him.

It was Fishlegs who suddenly stood on his front porch, twiddling his thumbs uncertainly and timidly staring at the ground. Apparently, Astrid had sent him, as Stoick would later find out. She’s always been a smart girl, a girl who doesn’t like to break rules and listens to her parents.

“Um, Mr. Haddock, sir? I think Hiccup’s about to get in a lot of trouble.” For any kid at any age, tattling on your friends never feels good and it doesn’t help that Stoick is so big and scary. The 11-year-old never understood how Hiccup was never scared of him. But Astrid had made him go while she stayed, believing she needed to keep an eye on what she thought was a situation about to get really out of hand.

Tearing their coats off the rack, he and Valka left quickly, the boy guiding them towards the local lake in a forest just outside of town.

They would find that Dagur was the biggest troublemaker in this situation. A much older boy, he’d followed his sister when she left with Astrid.

“Come on, Hiccup! You’re not scared like they are, are you? Get over here!” That was unmistakably young Dagur’s voice that they heard as they approached the lake. Whatever he was hounding their son to do, it couldn’t be anything good.

“Hiccup!” Stoick called out to him the second he spotted him, seeing his small frame on a frozen lake nobody has cleared for use yet and there he was.

Dagurr stood in the middle of it, arms crossed and an impatient look on his face. That is, until he saw the angry and mountainous dad of his target at the banks of the lake together with Hiccup’s mom. And suddenly, he felt like fleeing, having been caught red-handed.

“Mo-Mom? Dad?” Hiccup looked back at his parents, his face and posture betraying that his position isn’t one he put himself in as willingly as it first appeared.

Dagur had been bullying the younger kids, daring them into getting on the ice like he dared to. Kids don’t like to be challenged this way, they don’t like to be made to feel like they can’t do something, like they’re afraid and being afraid makes them a coward. Nobody wants to be seen as anything but brave. But Hiccup, he merely wanted to “prove himself” to end this charade and convince him to get off.

Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout, Astrid, and Heather, too, looked uncomfortable with the situation. They knew it was bad, even the first three who are troublemakers themselves.

“Hiccup, come on! Come back!” Astrid shouted towards him, but he was too stubborn to leave, still waiting on Dagur to get off the ice first.

He wasn’t ready to give up on him yet, not even with his own well-being on the line. He cared too much about others, he has always cared too much. Three years in the future, it might contribute to Dagur’s future obsession with him. His mother has left him, his father would, too, then, but Hiccup hadn’t.

Looking away from his terrified parents to gaze back at Dagur again, he shuffles ever closer while trembling in fright. He can hear and feel the lake cracking in warning beneath his feet.

“Dagur, I’m-I’m-I’m here-I’m here now, can we-can we go back?” He asked with a tremble and tears of stress in his eyes. He wanted to go back so badly, but he refused to go alone.

“Um-” The older boy’s bravado from before was entirely gone, his gaze moved from Hiccup to his father nervously.

“Yes, you two can! And you better come back quickly! Dagur, your father will hear of this!” Stoick couldn’t hear the ice straining, but that didn’t make him any less urged to get those two boys on solid ground.

“Dagur!” Heather shouts, sniffing.

“Dagur, please, you’re only putting yourself in danger! Come back to shore and everything will be okay.” Valka took a less consequential stance, something Stoick looked at her in disagreement for.

“Oh-okay,” Dagur quietly replied, spooked by Hiccup’s parents, and shuffled his way cautious off the lake.

It was only then, when he saw Dagur safely on the banks, that Hiccup could breathe easy and return, too.

“And now you, my brave boy, come here!” Valka stretched her hands out, causing him to smile.

Stoick didn’t plan on being as encouraging as his wife was being, fuming. Their 12-year-old was recklessly risking his life and for what? If he wants to be a hero, he should do it without endangering himself as well.

“I’m-I’m coming!” Hiccup called back, happy that he no longer needed to be here.

But as his luck would have it, just like he will somehow attract the attention of two obsessed men in a span of only three years, he had to be the one to fall through the ice.

Slowly, he moved closer to his friends and parents, the thin layer of ice under his feet cracking beneath his feather-light weight. No matter how much he moved from the spot, the cracks followed him and they grew bigger and they multiplied quickly. He was so scared, dying to reunite with his parents again. They were right there and yet so far away.

And then it breaks and he sinks into the freezing water below with a shriek that is cut short.

“Hiccup!” Everyone shouted as they watched him disappear.

Stoick will remember this incident as one of the worst moments in his entire life. Nothing in any of his 45 years of life will ever come close, not until his son loses his leg and fights for his life in the hospital, not until some faceless stranger kidnapped him for reasons Stoick never wants to know.

He couldn’t traverse the ice to go get him, it would’ve never been able to hold his weight if it couldn’t hold Hiccup’s. All he was able to do, all any of them were able to do, was watch in fear as Hiccup cried and clawed and struggled to get out.

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

Somehow that incident ended well. Somehow Hiccup managed to pull himself back up on slightly thicker ice than the parts that kept breaking on him. He got far enough away from the hole that someone could pull him the rest of the way. Once he was pulled back, Stoick and Valka enclosed him in their arms, his tiny and wet body cold in their embrace.

Neither of them have ever forgotten that day and it’s all Stoick can think about now. He can still hear Hiccup’s voice.

“Mom! Dad!” He’d cried for their help, something he has rarely ever done growing up. No matter how many problems may pile and pile, Hiccup has always wanted to solve things himself before he called in any sort of help. It’s probably why, after recovering from his amputation, he wanted to pull Toothless out of his guilt.

Stoick wonders if that was what had gotten him kidnapped. There are plenty of stories of people pretending to be hurt or in distress just to lure in unsuspecting good-natured people. If anybody could fall for such a scam, it would be Hiccup. Every part of his mind could be telling him that this person was up to no good and he would still act on that small, small “what if this person truly is in trouble?”

Is that what got him kidnapped? What got him... killed? Was Hiccup simply too pure of heart and did someone take advantage of that to snuff out his light?

After the lake incident, they drove him to the hospital as fast as they could and they found out he was okay. The doctor there told them he would be just fine and that they just needed to keep him warm and dry until his temperature was back up. After that, they could take him home with them.

He hadn’t lost consciousness, he didn’t seem to have swallowed or breathed in too much water, they could be almost certain that he was entirely okay.

As for his parents, however, they were never quite the same after that accident. Once Hiccup was dry, Stoick held his shivering son to him and vowed to him that he would never let anything happen to him ever again.

It’s a vow he broke twice.

Hiccup bounces back from pretty much anything thrown at him. After his fall, he would sneak out to play when his parents would much rather have him home with them. And though he wouldn’t go back on a frozen lake again, he’d still go out swimming with his friends.

During his divorce with Valka, though it was a painful time for all of them, he seemed to understand why it needed to happen and adjusted quickly. Even when asked if he thought badly of his parents months after it was finalized, he’d told them “no”, that it was better this way.

When a dragon went and bit his leg off, Hiccup went on to not only see the darn thing again, but he made friends with it and decided to fully dedicate his life to dragonkind. At 15, he wasn’t sure yet where he wanted his life to go, not until that accident.

Again and again, Stoick promised his son that nothing would ever happen to him after this. He held him in the hospital after his birth as he promised, then a second time after the lake, then a third time as he held his hand just before the surgery that would take his leg. Chances are, he will never get to promise him a fourth time.

Sitting on the couch, not paying attention to the tv and wasting away, there are tears in his eyes. Never much of an emotional man, Stoick doesn’t feel like he can stop them.

Strictly statistically speaking, the chances of a missing person ever being found alive, or even found at all, dwindles by the day and Hiccup has been gone since early June.

It’s December now.

The horrendous theories from the police don’t help either. Some even dare to put the blame on Hiccup, insinuating that his death, not his vanishing, but his death , might’ve been caused by a crime of passion. 19 years old, handsome, tall, capable, who isn’t to say he’s been cheating on his girlfriend and either she or the mistress found out? Naturally, that meant Astrid was a suspect at some point, too.

Stoick remembers seeing her after an interrogation once. Her parents came to pick her up at the same time he’d come to the station to demand an update.

She’d been distraught, face red and eyes bloodshot. Hiccup was her boyfriend of a year, her childhood friend, and they’d accused her of killing him over something like that. While cheating is no trivial matter, it’s not something she would kill over. Besides that, everyone who knew Hiccup also knows that he would’ve never done such a thing to her in the first place.

Then they settled for the most likely culprit, which was Dagur.

Stoick won’t lie, it felt good to finally hear from the police that they got him and that he would answer for his crimes, but that only lasted for… what? A day? Two days? A week at most? The relief ended quickly because the question of what happened to Hiccup remains unanswered to this day and Dagur stubbornly persists that he’s “getting better”, that he “would never hurt Hiccup”. And frankly, a part of Stoick seems to believe the young man.

Gods, why didn’t he just let him go live with Valka to study dragons? He wouldn’t have needed to move out and gotten an apartment deeper in their town. He would’ve already been living in the sanctuary if he did.

Or maybe the sanctuary was part of the problem. It’s not exactly a car ride away, you need to take the ferry there. So perhaps, part of the reason why he didn’t let Hiccup study dragons, he now realizes, is because he didn’t want him to go so far away.

How ironic, then, that someone decided to take him away anyway when he wasn’t looking. As if someone knew of Stoick’s inability to let go of his only child and thought that they should be the one to make him.

This never would’ve happened if he let Hiccup do as he wished. On the sanctuary, surrounded by dragons who know and love him, where Valka is, he would’ve been perfectly safe. Stoick may as well have asked someone to kidnap him.

It’s a painful thought and a tear falls, but Stoick doesn’t fight the guilt that he feels. This is all his fault. If he didn’t constantly break his vow to keep his child safe, Hiccup would still be here.

Gobber can read every self-deprecating thought on his old friend’s face, can see the tears, and sighs deeply before he looks back at the tv. On the channel they’re watching, they’re now installing some plumbing on a different program.

He wishes he could take the hurt away, wishes he could say something, but everything that can possibly be said he’s already said.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Stoick.”

“They’ll find him, Stoick.”

“Hiccup’s a strong and smart lad, Stoick”.

He’s sick of repeating himself. He doesn’t even believe his own words, so why should he continue to spout these lies? To a grieving father especially?

Hiccup is smart and he is strong, but does that mean he could still be alive today?

The will to comfort his friend quickly abates in the face of his own doubts and loss, Gobber feels like he may as well follow Stoick’s example and waste away alongside him. What else is left for him to do?

Just then, Stoick’s phone rings.

Snapping them both of their contemplation, Stoick picks it up and looks at the caller’s ID. It’s Astrid, the poor lass. He doesn’t feel like talking to her, but then, he also didn’t feel like letting Gobber in, so he answers the call.

“Astrid, lass?” He acknowledges her, hand rubbing in his eyes.

His eyes widen suddenly and he shoots up from the couch, startling Gobber in the process.

“Stoick?” He wonders what’s gotten him so riled up and so out of nowhere. What could Astrid possibly be telling him?

“Yes, I’m still here. Thank you for telling me, lass, I’m coming. Please, tell him that when he wakes up.” Eventually, after what felt like much too long of a call to Gobber, Stoick hangs up the phone and stares at him with that same wide-eyed look he can’t quite place. The tears are still there, they’re still falling, so what is that expression telling him?

“What is it, man?! Don’t keep me waiting, spit it out!” He demands, throwing his remaining hand up in growing frustration.

“They found him, Gobber. They found my son.”

Perhaps, Stoick can still make good on that vow.

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sorrelchestnut · 3 years

Text

EVERYBODY’S PICKIN’ UP ON THAT FELINE BEAT, PART 37

holy shit I finished a scene. We’re really close to the end now, y’all. That being said: this definitely ends on a cliffhanger. Fair warning.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. Part 15. Part 16. Part 17. Part 18. Part 19. Part 20. Part 21. Part 22. Part 23. Part 24. Part 25. Part 26. Part 27. Part 28. Part 29. Part 30. Part 31. Part 32. Part 33. Part 34. Part 35. Part 36.

Title: everybody’s picking up on that feline beat Author: Sorrel Fandom: Fallout 4 Rating: Mature Warnings: None Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor Series: Part 3 of everybody wants to be a cat

Coffee helps; fresh air and sunshine helps more. For someone who spends a significant majority of her life inside, underground, nocturnal, and/or just generally skulking around in the shadows, Whisper can be surprisingly solar-powered at times. By the time they're over the river she's in almost obnoxiously high spirits, singing "Anything Goes" in a squeaky falsetto that makes him think longingly of the roll of duct tape in his pack.

"The world has gone mad today, and good's bad today, and black's white today, and day's night today-"

"Whisper, I swear to God-"

"And that gent today you gave a cent today once had sev-er-al chateaus!"

"Alright, Cole Porter, that's enough." She grins wider and opens her mouth, and he hastily slaps a hand over it before she can start the next verse. "No."

Her lips tickle against his palm as she grumbles, "You're no fun."

"What, because I like living? You're going to bring down every raider in the greater Boston area, the way you're caterwaul- ow! Fuck!"

She tucks her thumbs in the straps of her pack and gives him a cheerful, empty-headed smile, showing off the pearly white teeth she just sunk into the base of his thumb. "Talk shit, get hit."

"Jesus, you're aggressive." He studies his hand but doesn't find any sign of bleeding, just a neat row of stark white tooth marks rapidly flushing back pink. "Whatever happened to licking my hand to gross me out?"

"Sometimes I can really tell you were an only child," she informs him, shaking her head faux-mournfully. "You gotta go big or go home, that's my motto."

"Good thing we're going home, isn't it?" When she squints at him, he smiles sunnily and holds his injured hand a couple inches above her head. "I mean, 'big' isn't exactly your strong suit, so..."

She launches herself at him with a war cry.

Bickering aside, they straighten up when they come into sight of Diamond City, falling into character as a pair of road-weary mercenaries coming off an all-night hike and desperate for a shower and some sleep. (Which, to be fair, isn't that far off from the truth, all things considered.) They're both in costume already, not that that took long. All Whisper had to do was slick back her hair and throw on a pair of sunglasses and hey presto: Olivia Bailey, ruins-rover extraordinaire. Next to her all Deacon has to do is look suitably grizzled and road-weary, so he pretty much just tossed the least-disgusting raider's jacket on over his travel clothes and smeared some dust artistically through his stubble and called it a goddamn day.

It certainly works well enough on the second-shift gate guard, a pockmarked woman with nicotine stains on her fingers. She waves them through with a disinterested nod, already going back to her book before they even clear the gate. Deacon squashes down the contrary impulse to make some kind of scene and just nods back, professional and cool, as he wraps an arm around Whisper's shoulder. She gives him a little sideways look that says I know what you're doing but doesn't bother to pull away until they're in the tunnel.

Deacon looks around and then back to her, pointedly. Whisper huffs a laugh.

"What now?"

"Nothing," he says, and waggles his eyebrows. "It's just… here we are again. Where it all started. Back to the site of our fateful first meeting."

Her eyes narrow. "Weren't you the one who said-"

"Mm, yeah, but I've had time to think about it, and I think you made a compelling point. First contact is definitely the first one that counts."

"You just don't want to 'fess up on just how long you were following me around."

"Why, partner, I'm hurt that you would think of such a thing," he says, and moves swiftly on before she can call him on the obvious evasion. "You know, you keep bringing me back here, I'm going to start thinking you've got a secret romantic streak." She gives him a look. "Very secret."

"That's me, all hearts and flowers," says quite the most ruthlessly practical woman Deacon's ever met. "Besides, if I was going to start up with romantical remembrances at this late date, that wouldn't be the one I'd pick. I was so sleep-deprived I'm lucky I remembered my own name."

"Couldn't tell to look at you," Deacon says, in massive understatement. She was all easy swagger and magazine-cover grin, on her way to bigger and better things. She sure as shit didn't look like she was running on the ragged edge of her endurance - but then, he knows better than most just how well she can lie with a smile.

She glances over at him as they break out of the tunnel, her gaze shrewd over the rim of her shades. "You remember it pretty well, huh?"

Nope, nuh-uh, not going there. "Your hair was longer," Deacon says, tweaking the end of one of her curls in a transparent bid for distraction. "I remember that for sure."

"Well, yeah," she says, ducking neatly around a kid that seems really intent on wherever she's running. "You told me to cut it."

"I did?" He definitely doesn't remember that. "When?"

"When we were prepping for the Covenant op. You said blonde, I said I had to grab some bleach, and you gave me that 'oh honey' look you do when people are being particularly stupid and told me to just cut it off, you had a spare wig lying around someplace."

That does sound like him. "And you just did it?" he says, because Whisper is a lot of things, but 'obedient' sure as shit isn't one of them.

"You were brandishing a knife when you said it," she admits. "It seemed easier to give in than argue."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like him. Especially then: that must've been, what, their first week together? Back then everything was one long haze of exhaustion, staggering from one crisis to the next with barely enough time to take a shit. Hauling her into the Covenant op was a desperation play, pure and simple: he needed backup, and anyone had to be better than Glory. He hadn't known, then, what she could do with nothing more than a smile and a little room to work.

Though he figured it out pretty damn quick.

"I'd say it worked out," he says, and tweaks her dark hair again. "You do make a fetching blonde."

She gives him a look over the tops of her shades, knowing and a bit amused. "They do have more fun."

Aaaand now he's thinking about their first time, that silver dress pushed up around her thighs, blonde wig spilling across the mattress above her and blue eyes begging him in the dark. He clears his throat. "You want to go talk to Valentine?"

"In a bit," she says, and wraps her arm around his waist. He automatically puts his arm around her in turn, and she leans her head on his shoulder, a picture-perfect image of a lovesick spouse. "Need to make the rounds, hit up a few of the merchants first. It'd be weird if I didn't."

"God forbid we look weird," he agrees, and laughs at her elbow in his stomach.

~*~

She does break off eventually, slips away to discuss things with Valentine and leaves him with a key and strict instructions to take care of dinner. Deacon makes a quick loop of his own, touching base with the runners they placed last time and offloading some of their scav while he's at it. Myrna's girl has been promoted to working the afternoon shift solo, and is more than happy to take a few extra minutes dickering in order to fill him in on the local gossip. He rounds it off with a visit to the Dugout where the cocky one is still serving drinks - Deacon makes a note to collect the ten caps from Whisper later - and picks up some dinner to go on his way out. Never let it be said he can't follow orders when it suits him.

He's setting out the plates when Whisper follows him in just a few minutes later with a slammed door and a cheerful, "Hallo the house!" from the far end of her little warehouse.

"Kitchen!" he calls back, and a moment later she appears, weaving her way through the stacked boxes and dropping a noticeably emptier pack on the floor by the stove.

"Need a hand?"

The food's pretty much done, so he tilts his head to the table with a hopeful, "Something to drink?"

"I've got just the thing," and she grabs her pack again, fishing around inside until she comes up with a couple bottles of Bobrov's homebrew. "I tried to catch you at the Dugout but Vadim said you just left. Good enough?"

"We-ell, everyone knows a dry white pairs best with seafood, but for day-old mirelurk I suppose it will just have to do."

"You're trying to ruin my appetite but it's not working," she informs him, nose in the air. "I'm so hungry I'd eat a mirelurk raw."

He laughs and nudges in behind her as she turns to grab a bottle opener. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that. You know it's only the best for my girl."

"Flatterer," she says, nothing in her voice now but laughter. "You talk any sweeter, I'm gonna be forced to check those lips for honey."

"Aw, babe. You say the - ha ha - sweetest things." He buries his nose in the back of her neck and inhales. "I get the cigarettes, but why do you smell like one of Tom's experiments? Hot metal and burnt wiring," he clarifies, when she gives him a truly weird look.

"Oh, I stopped by Piper's after I talked to Nick," she says, all offhand as if she's not talking about the biggest gossip in the Commonwealth.

Deacon unpeels himself from her back and takes her by the shoulders. "Whisper," he says, seriously. "Do we need to have a conversation about operational security? Because I feel like you may have been out that day."

"Oh, so you want her to come by and harangue me in person? Because that is one hundred percent what she'd do if she heard I was in town and didn't go see her first."

Okay, so maybe she has a point. The thought of Piper fucking Wright showing up at his door - well, Whisper's door, whatever - demanding to know his intentions toward her friend… Yeah, no. That's gonna be a haaaard pass.

Whisper grins at him, the devil in her eyes. He knows that look. "Whisper-"

"Ohhhh, I see what this is about."

"Fear," he assures her, trying to head whatever this is off at the pass, "this is a very healthy and reasonable level of fear," but she's on her way to a punchline and won't be deterred.

"You're a fan!" she declares, over his groan of protest. "Aww, sweetheart, why didn't you say something earlier? I could totally arrange an introduction for you."

"Ahhh, no thanks," Deacon manages, through the bolt of terror that thought inspires. "Little-known fact, spies are in fact allergic to reporters? Like, clinically. The hives are brutal."

She takes pity on him and gives way with a laugh, her eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Don't worry, babe, I'll protect you."

"You're the best."

"And don't you forget it." She pops open one of the bottles one-handed, handing it off to him with a cheery flourish. "Besides, you don't wanna bitch too much about my girl Piper. Her caps bought you this booze."

"I take it back, she's my new favorite person. After your radiant self, of course." He takes a swig and passes it back, enjoying the flush of boozy heat down through his chest as he turns back to the stove. After a moment's consideration, he adds a couple extra tatos to the pan. If they're drinking Bobrov's then he definitely wants to lay down a hearty base. "Something interesting afoot?"

"Mhm?"

"Your payout from Wright. Anything I should know about?"

She wobbles her flat hand side-to-side, a wordless eh. "Not really. Just a side project I've been working on."

Interesting. It's not as if they tell each other everything they get up to - he certainly has any number of moving parts at any given moment she's not read in on, and this business with Hancock gave him a good idea about how much he doesn't know about her adventures - but the fun stuff, yeah, that's usually share and share alike. Then again, maybe it's a leftover from her little enforced vacation back in August. He's mostly kept his nose out of whatever she was up to those weeks in hopes she'll do him the same courtesy, so there's a gap in his intel.

"Very mysterious," he teases, nudging a little. "C'mon, not even a hint for your faithful partner?"

She refuses to be nudged, only smiles faintly and hunches one shoulder into a lopsided shrug. "You can read it in the paper tomorrow like everyone else."

"Way harsh."

"That's me, cruel and unusual." She passes him back a plate with an absent kiss to his scruffy cheek. "C'mon, quit fondling that pot holder and get me some supper. I'm starving."

~*~

It's a good night, maybe the best he's had in a while. Deacon sort of figured she'd be distracted, mind on her mission tomorrow, but instead it's the opposite: for the first time in what seems like weeks, he has her full and undivided attention, and he basks in it like winter sunshine. They trade stories and quips, mostly things they've told each other a dozen times over but still fresh, still funny, still so much fun to watch her trying out a new spin, a new angle. She's so fucking good at that, always has been. Yet another thing Deacon never needed to teach her, but damn does he never get tired of watching her reinvent herself on the fly.

Deacon, for his part, finds himself mugging shamelessly for her attention, chasing her approval as fervently as any junkie he's ever pretended to be. And unlike a junkie Deacon gets what he's craving in spades, because she's as generous with her smiles as she is with her stories, lounging back in her chair with her glass in her hand, thighs sprawled wide and her voice gone syrup-slow with that insinuating smirk that only ever spurs him on.

Later, he doesn't entirely remember how they end up in bed. The booze turns everything smeary and soft-focus, like light coming in through a stained-glass window, and his memory preserves only a series of snapshots: pulling Whisper into his lap, her startled yelp of laughter muffled with his mouth. Making out on the landing, one foot braced a step down to put him closer to her height, his fingers busy on her shirt buttons and hers on his belt buckle. Tumbling into bed in a snarl of limbs, laughingly disentangling them until Whisper tugs him up over her in the dark. Burying his face in the sweat-slicked curve of her neck as he works his cock inside of her, her blunt nails scoring lines down the length of his back and her heels digging into the backs of his thighs to urge him on. The flicker of the candlelight playing across her lush mouth and her dark, shadowed eyes, her damp hair clinging to her forehead as she tosses her head back against the pillows. The low breathy rasp of her voice, "Deacon," murmured against his ear, "Deacon, Deacon, please-"

And then when he wakes up, he's alone.

The radio downstairs is playing “The Wanderer,” and Deacon lies there for a moment, listening to the clatter of the rain against the windows, experiencing an overwhelming surge of deja vu.

Then he hauls himself out of bed, picks up his boots, and goes in search of his wayward accomplice.

Unlike last time, there's no pint-sized partner clattering around in the kitchen, cooking breakfast and dancing around like temptation on two legs. The room is cool and dim, only the faint mid-morning sunshine straggling in through an upper window to light the way, and the only sign of habitation is the soft strains of the radio. Deacon does a quick check in the warehouse section just in case - have the boxes been breeding back there? - but the only sign of life in here is him. Most damningly of all, Whisper's pack is gone from the hook beside the door, leaving his looking lopsided next to the empty space where its partner used to be.

Do not project onto an inanimate object, Deacon my lad, he tells himself, and checks the counter next to the radio, where he previously saw a pad and a pencil half-buried under a precarious stack of ammo boxes. Sure enough, there's a note there, torn loose from the pad and folded into thirds with John scrawled across the front in unfamiliar handwriting that must belong to Liv.

She's just keeping cover, not stupid enough to write anything else out here in the open where anyone could walk in and see it, but Deacon still stares at it for a long moment, that single syllable knocking around somewhere at the bottom of his ribs. Then he shakes his head at himself, reaches out, and unfolds the note.

hey handsome, you looked so peaceful i couldn't bring myself to wake you. at least one of us should get to sleep in, and nick had me up with the sun. (you know what he's like when he's on a case!) shouldn't take long though, just a quick run down to goodneighbor and fingers crossed we'll be back by supper. take care of my best guy while i'm gone. xoxo, liv

The radio changes to “One More Tomorrow,” and Deacon glares at it as he folds up the note. Reading between the breezy, heavily fictionalized lines, it's clear enough she decided to handle this Kellogg business solo. Which is… fair enough, he supposes, but something about it doesn't sit square. Did she think he would have told her no, if she asked him to stay put? He thought he made it pretty clear the whole thing was hers to handle or not as she saw fit. Or maybe she just thought it'd be too awkward, having him up in her business like that? Maybe after their last op, she's about had her fill of personal. He couldn't blame her if that's the case, but he hopes she knows the last thing he'd ever want to do is make things harder for her.

Well, there's not much he can do about it either way, not with her at least a few hours ahead of him, judging by the sun, and definitely not with her clear instruction to sit tight. Waiting isn't much his favorite part and he didn't really plan to be hanging out in Diamond City all day, but Deacon's an adaptable fellow; he'll find a way to keep himself occupied.

The market is bustling at this hour of the morning, and Deacon lets the crowd carry him along, thinking vaguely about picking up some noodles for breakfast and then maybe having a wander around. It's not great for his cover to spend so much time out and about on his own, but with the right sidelong look most people will probably assume she's sleeping off a wild night, which would be great for his ego, at least. Besides, there's really no substitute for market gossip when it comes to keeping a pulse on the goings-on in the Commonwealth, which is what he plans to tell Dez if she gives him shit for the wasted day. Not that she will, because if Deacon has his way she'll never hear about any of this, but he likes having a contingency plan in place. Makes him feel all nice and comfy.

It's when he's looping around the counter in search of an open stool that he catches the familiar sound of Piper Junior hawking her wares at full volume. Which is funny, 'cause by his calculation they're not due for another issue for at least a week. Normally Piper's pretty regular with the print, except-

Deacon gets a sinking sensation in his chest.

-except when she has something too juicy to wait and damn it, Whisper, what the hell are you up to?

Normally the last place he wants to be is anywhere near someone named Wright, but since his partner has been up to shenanigans without bothering to inform him first, he figures that in this case 'better safe than sorry' means getting out ahead of whatever nonsense Whisper's been cooking up rather than running the other way. He makes sure to pull his cap low over his eyes, hitches his pack higher on his shoulders, and sidles over towards the Public Occurrences like he just doesn't have anything better to do.

"Extra, extra, read all about it! Minutemen General has the tell-all of the century!"

Oh, it's Minutemen business. Geez, why didn't she just say so? If she's running some propaganda job for Garvey, the last thing he'd want to do is get in her way. It was obvious they needed something after the trip to the Slog the other week, and throwing Piper at the problem is probably the most efficient way to get the word out. Half the damn Commonwealth reads her paper at some point or another, even if it's just so they can tell themselves how wrong she is.

Still, Whisper did tell him he'd find out today, so she probably expects him to read up on whatever it is. He snatches a paper off the top of the stack and flips it over, scanning for the headline.

Woman out of Time: Savior of the Minutemen Tells All About Life Before the Bomb!

"-not the current General," Little Wright's saying, when Deacon manages to stop staring at the paper and drag his attention back to the real world. "The first one, the one that retook the Cast- hey!"

Deacon finds the paper snatched right from his hands, a pint-sized version of a familiar glare beaming up at him. "You gotta pay before you read," Little Wright informs him. "We're not running a charity here!"

"Uh, right," says Deacon, who still feels like he's hearing everything underwater, slow-motion and echoing strangely. "What's the deal with this General, then?"

"Didn'tcha see the headline? She's from before the War! Vault froze her in cryo, right here in the Commonwealth!"

Vault 111. Oh, fuck. Ohhhh fuck.

"So you gonna buy or just stand there and stare?" Little Wright brandished the paper at him. "Hot off the presses! Only ten caps, and you can be the first to know!"

#fallout 4 #deacon #female sole survivor #deacon/female sole survivor #fic #everybody wants to be a cat

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mumufic · 3 years

Text

My ranty Author Notes to address questions on my Three Sisters fic

So, I feel like I should put up some notes on a number of recurring questions I get in the comments, for those who don’t really read my responses (because I do provide some detailed explanations for why certain things are happening in my fic, but I get it if sloughing through comments for insight isn’t your thing; it isn’t mine either, hence the A/N.)

Why is Lily so stupid / obtuse / blind about Snape? Let’s level-set a couple of things: A) Lily is about as Gryffindor as they come, and some of the more common character flaws of people who belong to that house is that they rather tend to think a lot less of situations before diving in. That’s the case for Lily in this fic. Snape was her first magical friend that she’d ever met. She cherishes that friendship because she knows it’s returned even though she might not agree with a lot of Snape’s beliefs, not to mention Snape was the first person who told her that all the strange things that have been happening to her was the result of her being magical. For a child feeling the otherness of her abilities so keenly around her perfectly normal, muggle working class family, that is a huge thing. For the first time, Lily thought she’d met someone who understood her and the things she could do, and for that to have happened to her as a child, the person who validates that part of her being is going to play a very central role in her life until she reaches a breaking point. In the books, that breaking point was when Snape’s bigotry included her. For the longest time, he’d always excluded her from his hateful rhetoric, and there’s passages in the books that support that. B) Lily is a kid. She’s 11, and she probably met Snape at a much younger age (I’m guessing around 8 or 9) Kids who value their friends can sometimes be stupidly loyal to them even when their friends are behaving badly. Why do you think peer pressure is such a huge thing among young people? It’s partly because they value the person who is their friend to the point of being foolhardy over said friend’s bad actions. C) A lot of Snape’s bigotry goes over Lily’s head, because she’s never been taught to find differences between magical and non-magical people. Her parents obviously love her and Petunia the same and for her, that means they’re no different. She doesn’t understand the superiority Snape feels over Petunia, and because she doesn’t understand it, and also because she’s just a stupid kid who doesn’t really know better or even understands the slurs that come out of Snape’s mouth, she doesn’t think too much of it. Notice that Lily actually does call him out when he’s being mean to Petunia in ways that she can understand, when Snape tells Petunia that he had no place being in Platform 9 3/4 for example. But then Snape follows it up with reasoning that seems to be perfectly sound - Platform 9 3/4 is a magical location; it might not be the best place for Petunia to be. As for the spoon encounter, Lily had some basic understanding of accidental magic, thanks to Holly, and mostly chocked up that unfortunate event to Snape’s accidental magic rearing up from Petunia’s mean-spirited taunting. Petunia isn’t innocent in that scene, if you go back to it and think critically on it, look at it in the eyes of a normal rational adult. She’s just presented as being sympathetic because the narration is from Holly’s POV, and Holly likes this Petunia and hates Snape absolutely. Lastly, pretty much everything I have on Snape during the Summer with the Evanses part of this story have a basis in canon. He was hateful to Petunia, but Lily constantly made excuses for him, thinking that he’s just mean in general because of his difficult family life. The same goes when they get to Hogwarts. Snape spouts the same bigoted things the Slytherin Purebloods say, and Lily makes excuses for him. That’s canon. Lily made excuses for Snape’s behavior to her sister and her friends (especially Mary, who was canonically muggleborn) until she found she couldn’t anymore because his hatefulness suddenly spilled over to include her. Does that make Lily stupid? Probably, yes. Does it make her human? Fucking hell yes, and anyone who thinks that they won’t behave that way have clearly never figured out conflicted love-hate relationships with toxic people, so good for you, but these things happen to others, and it shouldn’t be surprising. There’s a basis for this in reality, and there’s a basis for Lily’s blind loyalty to Snape in canon. And barring all of that if you don’t agree, it’s my fic, and I choose to write her this way. If that makes her a stupid character and you think I’m assassinating Lily’s characterization from canon, your interpretation is valid, but so is my right to write what I want as long as I’m not making a cent off of this. Thanks.

Why is Sirius spouting the bigotry he vehemently disavowed in OoTP? And why did he call Holly a mudblood? I don’t know about you, but I think Sirius had to have been an extremely sheltered child, growing up in a magical house surrounded on all sides by a muggle neighborhood. I think he started questioning why he wasn’t allowed to play with other children whom he could probably see from his bedroom window, but he didn’t actually know how and why he needed to reason it out with his parents until he met people who taught him how to articulate the feelings he had over his parents’ bigotry against muggles and muggleborns. As for why he called Holly a mudblood, again, has a lot to do with the normalization of hate in the household he grew up in. Walburga and Orion Black taught their children to hate anything and anyone that didn’t subscribe to the same Pureblood rhetoric as they did. And since Sirius thought Holly lived with the Evanses, who were muggle, and not with the Potters who were Purebloods, he didn’t see a distinction for her blood status from Mary or Lily, who were actually muggleborn. Hell, I don’t even think Sirius understood blood status all that well at all as an 11-year-old. He was just repeating shit he heard his parents say because he didn’t know any better. I’m not going to tell you how to interpret your reading of my fic, but generally, I wouldn’t ascribe knowledge that I know of characters and events to the characters within the story, because they can’t be expected to know and understand what I know and understand, especially in a fic written in such a limited POV, and things like Holly’s blood status, would not be known to Sirius because Holly had never actually told James or him about her parents, other than that they were Potters. And while you can make a case for the fact that Holly told Sirius and Regulus in Chapter 7 that she’s not muggleborn, I still stand by the idea that the Black exclusionist ideas that Walburga and Orion taught their children would still have Sirius identifying her as one simply because of where he thinks she grew up in.

Why is Holly so stupidly letting so many details from her timeline out to her friends? I think we should all cut Holly some slack for spilling so many details about her life to Lily and Petunia. She’s an orphan who’ finally met the girl who would be her mother. She can’t shut up about her life because OMG my MUM! I finally got to meet her! On top of that, up until the point where Holly met Fleamont Potter, the last time Holly had been warned about meddling with time had been when she was in third year, and it was rushed and the warning hadn’t even been made to her; it had been McGonagall warning Hermione and Hermione repeating the same information to her. So the meddling about time? Holly didn’t exactly give a shit. Lastly, we have so many references in canon of Harry Potter being an exceptionally impulsive little blockhead to the point where he constantly gets himself into trouble. Running after the Philosopher’s Stone in PS, continuing on to fight the basilisk and look for Ginny while Ron tries to get help in CoS, haring off to the Ministry in OoTP, Sectumsempra in HBP, uttering Voldemort’s name and getting them caught by Snatchers in DH… the list is actually pretty damn long. So why should it not be a character flaw for Holly in this fic to be stupidly impulsive in the information she gives out to a person she thinks is her mother, one she’s loved and idolized and put on a pedestal all her life? Why shouldn’t she spout similarly incriminating information to a boy she knows would be her godfather, whom she trusted and loved up until he got killed? It’s a character flaw, yes, and I’m not here to write perfect characters, because perfect characters who only do the right and intelligent thing make for a dry, boring read. If you weren’t about annoying flaws like this, then you’re welcome to click off my fic and find some other story where Harry is the perfect godsent angel come to save us all. That’s not what this story is about.

Why aren’t you patching up any of these inconsistencies that multiple people have already pointed out? Some of them, because that is how I want to write the characters in my story. Some of them, because there will be points in the future where these things are addressed and resolved. And yet still some of them because I don’t want to. Yes, even the stupid ones that really don’t make sense and should probably be changed. I don’t want to go back and change them. That’s how I am as a fic writer, and last I checked, this is still my fanfic.

Want to have a say in how I’m planning the characterization and plotting out? I’m still looking for a beta who I’d like to be able to help me with things like plot inconsistencies, annoying characterization (ok, shut up about Lily already. I didn’t make her this stupid; JKR did when she wrote Lily insisting on her friendship with Snape all the way up to fifth year!), and just generally talk about how and where I intend for the story to go.

If you’d like to beta for me, hit me up on my main Tumblr, @mumuinc or DM me on Discord; my profile is mumuinc#7662.

#fanfic writing #the three sisters #my writing

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 20)

Chapter 20

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,193

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak @fallenstar-7

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

“Whoa! Is this your house?!” Caleb screeched as they got out of the car.

“No, I wish,” said Jimin. He pointed to Yoongi and said, “It’s his house.”

“Wow! You must be super rich or something!” Caleb said to Yoongi. Jimin took his hand as they walked up to the front door. “You paid that guy fifty thousand dollars, and you live in this big house!”

“Yeah, and apparently you’re more valuable than I am,” Jimin said, swatting Yoongi across the shoulder.

Yoongi didn’t respond to any of this as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Footsteps pounded through the house towards the foyer, revealing a frazzled Taehyung. He took one look at the group before pushing his way through to wrap Jimin up in a tight hug. Taehyung pulled away with damp eyes.

“Oh! You brought someone with you,” Taehyung said between sniffles, reaching out to shake Caleb’s hand and wiping his eyes with the other hand. “Hello little one. Forgive me for not greeting you before. If you like, we have some cold soda pop or I can get you a wine-“

“He’s eight,” said Jimin.

“Oh…um,” sniffle, “Can you not have caffeine?”

“I’ll have wine please!” Caleb said with a giggle. Jimin shushed him.

“He’s fine,” he said.

Just then, Namjoon and Hoseok came around the corner, their eyes widening when they saw the child.

“Yoongi…” Namjoon said.

“I know! They were in the same cell, what was I supposed to do?” Yoongi snapped.

“I’m not…I’m not opposed,” said Namjoon. “Here, let’s move to the lounge. We can look at the recording there as well.”

“And we’ll find your parents,” Jimin said to Caleb.

Everyone piled into the lounge to watch the recording. Jungkook connected to the TV and played it. Namjoon took notes and sketched a rough map. Since Jimin no longer had a phone, he took Hoseok’s phone and stepped out with Caleb to call his parents. Catalina stepped out with them. She wasn’t keen on watching their journey again.

Jimin was opening Hoseok’s phone while Caleb examined the ceramic vase on display in the hallway.

“Do you know their phone numbers?” Jimin asked. Caleb nodded and took the phone. He typed in a phone number and held it up to his ear. It sounded like whoever it was picked up immediately.

“Hi mom!” Caleb greeted. He held the phone away from his ear as a cacophony of voices shouted and cried on the other end. Jimin kneeled beside Caleb and took his hand as tears gathered in his eyes. “I’m okay mom…I’m with Jimin right now…no he’s my friend, we were roommates at the bad guy’s place. His friends saved us…we’re at his friend’s house…um…”

Caleb turned to Jimin and asked, “Where is this place? My mom says they’re gonna pick me up.”

“Tell her we can text her our location from this phone,” said Jimin. “I don’t know the address.”

“Jimin says that we’re gonna text you the location,” said Caleb. “He says he doesn’t know the address…okay I won’t…yeah, they’re all in the room, they’re making a plan to kill the bad guys…”

“Caleb!” Catalina whispered. She shook her head.

“Oh right,” Caleb said. “Never mind, it’s top secret…no, they’re not killing anyone, they’re not doing anything, it’s top secret…okay…”

“Jimin, you should call your mom as well,” Catalina said, handing her phone over.

As Jimin called his mother and had a very similar conversation with her as Caleb, Jungkook came out of the room and joined Catalina. His face was pale.

“You okay?” she asked. He nodded.

“I hate seeing it again,” said Jungkook. “I can’t wait to get those people out.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Catalina. They both spoke quietly, as to not disturb the two phone calls happening next to them.

“But I learned something interesting in there,” said Jungkook. “Apparently Yoongi used to go around finding organizations like this and he would buy all the kids from them.”

“Like, he’d just go around rescuing kids?” Catalina asked. Jungkook nodded. “Yoongi? I can’t picture that.”

“I know right?” said Jungkook.

An hour later, there was a knock at the door. Jimin went with Caleb to greet his parents. After their tearful reunion, Caleb said, “Am I gonna see Jimin again?”

His parents agreed to keep in contact with Jimin before going on their way. Jimin’s mom showed up shortly after with another tearful reunion.

“I should probably go home,” Jimin said to Catalina and Jungkook.

“Yeah, ya think?” Catalina said. Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, make sure you guys kill all those sons of bitches,” he said.

“You know we will,” said Jungkook. Jimin hugged them both before leaving with his mom. Once they were out of sight, Catalina and Jungkook went back inside.

The vampires were still sitting around the coffee table in the lounge, planning for their next step when Jungkook and Catalina arrived and sat down.

“Jimmy K and Jin should be here any minute to help us plan this out,” said Namjoon.

“Is Jin fighting with us?” asked Jungkook. “Can he handle that?”

“Come on, he’s not even here to defend himself,” said Catalina. Jungkook snickered.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself when he gets here. I’m not sure,” said Namjoon.

“Well, in the meantime, would anyone like some tea to calm our nerves?” Taehyung asked, standing up. “Ever since Jimin came back safely, I’ve just been feeling a bit murderous.”

“That’s the spirit!” said Jungkook.

“I’ll just make some for everyone,” Taehyung said, leaving the room.

He came back several minutes later carrying a large tray filled with teacups and a fancy teapot. He served everyone, then sat back down, sighing and sinking into the couch with his first sip.

Jimmy K and Jin arrived after that, taking seats in the lounge.

“Alright, down to business,” Jimmy K said, rubbing his hands together.

“My ears were ringing on the way here,” said Jin. “Who was talking shit about me?”

He eyed the group, his narrowed gaze finally landing on a giggling Jungkook. Jin pointed a finger at him and whispered, “You’re dead meat,” which only served to make Jungkook laugh harder.

“So, what’s the plan so far?” asked Jimmy K.

“We’re thinking about splitting up into two groups: one to fight off the vampires, the other to evacuate the hostages,” said Namjoon. “I hate working with police, but we’ll have emergency services waiting above ground.”

“It’s unavoidable,” said Jimmy K. “Those people will need medical attention when we get them out. Have we considered backup? By that, I mean other vampires.”

“Yes,” said Namjoon. “I called a few friends from up north. They should be flying in by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Good,” said Jimmy K. “We’ll need all the help we can get. As for the police, I’m sort of buddies with the Sheriff in this town. I’ll talk to him and explain what’s going on so that they don’t mess up our plan. In the meantime, how about some more training, guys?”

Catalina and Jungkook stood up.

“Is it flamethrower day?” Jungkook shouted.

Jimmy K laughed and said, “Sure, why not?”

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spooks-and-tea · 4 years

Text

Entangled (Spencer Reid x femReader) [Ch.10]

Summary: You don’t know how it happened. One moment you were watching Criminal Minds, and the next moment you were literally in the show. Can Spencer be the key to helping you find your way back home?

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of su*cide, bad explanations of quantum mechanics, bad words, sexual situations (some non-con), the usual criminal minds-type content

A/N: I hope this isn’t too weird and confusing, I didn’t want to go totally left-field fantasy on you all. The thing I liked about Gubler’s CM episodes was that they seemed fantastical, yet they were still very much grounded in reality. That’s what I was going for with this fic. Hopefully, it’s bringing a little bit of entertainment into your lives. :)

Word Count: 4,071

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11.

************************************************************************

Spencer When Spencer opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the warehouse.

He didn't know where he was, not exactly. He knew this was the void space that the equation had proven.

Colors flew past him like the Millennium Falcon traveling at warped speed. The place was making a crackling sound. Spencer took a few steps forward; the colors didn't seem effected by his movements.

Something quickly tugged at his chest, like a magnetic force.

"Whoa!" He flailed his arms, trying to catch his balance.

Just follow the magnetic pull and it'll lead you to her.

"Right," Spencer remembered. He placed his palm flat over his chest; he had felt it when they first met.

His legs carried him quickly, following the pull. The buzzing seemed to be getting louder as he traversed.

He wasn't sure why, but something told him not to look up. Was there something there watching him? He carried on, he didn't know how long or how far he walked. Time didn't seem to matter here, it shouldn't, this was a place that was lacking everything.

Nothing should exist here.

He wasn't even walking on a floor; there was no gravity to hold him to one.

The pull suddenly tugged Spencer to the left. His eyes landed on something that he was sure hadn't been there before; a red, velvet curtained tunnel.

Without hesitating, Spencer climbed inside. He felt like a child in one of those indoor jungle gyms; he'd always wanted to play on those as a child, he never did.

The tunnel stretched on, Spencer realized it was getting dimmer and dimmer as he crawled forward. Soon, total darkness lay ahead of him, if he reached his hand forward it would seemingly disappear within the chasm.

He took a deep breath, thinking of Y/N, and his chest ached. He knew in his gut that this was right.

He crawled inside and heard a loud snap. Then, he fell.

Spencer toppled face first into a carpeted floor; with a loud "oof!"

"What the hell?!"

He was almost afraid to open his eyes; afraid of what he'd see.

When he got the nerve, he opened his eyes and his jaw dropped.

It was himself, but upside down (oh, he was lying on his back). He rolled over onto his hands and pushed himself off the floor.

He stood at the same height, face to face, with someone who looked exactly like him.

"Who are you?" Spencer and his double both asked un unison.

************************************************************************

Y/N You had a good feeling about today as you walked on set.

Your heart-to-heart with Matthew had ultimately made you feel less alone; something you hadn't realized you needed before.

If you were going to ever move on, you needed to surround yourself with friends. Luckily, the crew and cast were quickly becoming that for you, especially Matthew. You really appreciated how he stepped up to help you. He believed you despite how crazy your story sounded.

Today, you were filming a tough scene. Your character was going to supposedly die in Spencer's arms, except, you knew you'd be back by the next season. Something about the doctors pulling through and saving you just in time.

You were running a bit late, but you sipped a coffee to keep up your spirits. This was going to be energy-draining.

You left hair-and-makeup and went straight to the set.

The director was busy, so you stood in your place and went over your lines.

"Alright, so the unsub has just fired at you, you know, we've already filmed that bit." The director came over. You saw Matthew walking behind him and you waved. He did a small wave back with a big smile. The director grabbed your attention again.

"So Matthew, you're going to begin dragging her behind the vehicle. Y/N I want you already in that state of mind where you know you're dying. Is that clear to you two?" He finished. You and Matthew both nodded.

The director turned around, going to his place behind the camera. You got into place, laying down on the cement.

"3, 2, 1, action!"

You heard the fake gunfire start and closed your eyes. You heard heavy footsteps run towards you and felt Matthew pick your shoulders up, dragging your lower half backwards. He stopped behind a car and propped you up against him.

You breathed, heavily and opened your eyes halfway.

"Spencer," you gasped. You clutched the fake wound in your stomach.

"It's okay. You'll be okay. I-I've got you."

You grit your teeth, taking shaky breaths as you grabbed his free hand that wasn't supporting your head. He rubbed comforting circles with his thumb.

He was looking over your wounds, analytically.

"Spencer I-"

"No! Don't say it. Not now, you're not leaving me now." His lip quivered.

"Please. Please, let me say it." You whined, a tear falling from your eye. He froze for a second, you thought maybe Matthew had forgotten his lines.

"I can't."

"You and I both know my chances of survival are low, Spence."

"I know." He was beginning to sound choked up. A scripted tear fell on your forehead.

"If this is the last moment I get to share with you, I want to make it count." You started to shiver.

He nodded, looking you in the eyes and tightening his grip. In that moment, he almost looked like your Spencer.

"I love you Spencer Reid-"

His eyes widened.

You felt the magnetic pull in your chest aching at the memory of loving your Spencer and being loved in return. When you said the line, you meant it. Matthew knew that this was your personal, real goodbye. He had made sure to hug you extra tight during the table read.

"-and if I die here I don't want you to feel guilty. This wasn't your fault. I chose to confront the unsub, this was my stupid mistake. Promise me-"

If only I could have told him this.

He shook his head, tears falling down his reddening cheeks.

"Promise me you won't blame yourself." Your voice squeaked as you clenched your eyes shut in fake pain.

He stayed silent.

"Promise me, Spence," you said a little louder.

"I promise. I love you." He whispered.

You held on, gasping and shaking in his arms. Your eyes looking into his. Seeing the glazed look in his eyes made your stomach twist.

Then you closed your eyes and relaxed your grip on his hand, slowly letting your body go limp.

You listened as Matthew played out the rest of Spencer's scene. Crying and holding you close. He kissed your forehead, something that was improvised. It left your forehead feeling tingly.

Then the paramedics truck drives into the scene. You're lifted by a paramedic onto a stretcher and carried to the ambulance.

You lay there limply as Matthew plays out the rest of the emotional scene, holding your hand and talking to the paramedics.

"Cut!"

You opened your eyes, feeling slightly dizzy from the vibrations deep in your chest. The familiar pull had been bugging you for the entire scene.

"Good take, we'll come back in 5!" The director announced.

Matthew sat up and held his hand out to you, giving you a strange look. You grabbed it and he helped you off the ambulance truck.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You laughed as your feet hit the ground.

"Like what?" He blinked.

"Like I'm the Mona Lisa."

He was still holding your hand you were getting a little suspicious that he was up to something.

"I am?"

"What are you up to, Gubler?" You narrowed your eyes and dropped your hand from his. "Never mind for now, I have to run to my trailer and grab a snack bar. I didn't have time for breakfast today and that scene sucked up all my energy." You smiled, walking around him to go to your trailer.

You were nearly there when Matthew caught up with you again.

"Wait! Y/N. We don't have much time."

You spun around.

"I know, that's why I'm fast walking, but you keep interrupting me. What's going on with you? You're acting stranger than you usually do." You crossed your arms over your chest, looking him in the eyes. Again, he was giving you that look that was beginning to remind you of Spencer and it was starting to get to you.

"I-uh. Can you just come with me?" He nodded to his trailer.

You frowned. Was he playing a joke on you? Was this for one of his YouTube mockumentaries?

"Okay, but only if you stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" He asked, exasperated.

"Like-um- he used to look at me that way." You mumbled, dropping your head and massaging the back of your neck.

"I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

He walked in front of you.

"No it's not." You looked up, frowning at him.

He looked guilty, that's the last thing you wanted your friend to feel again. You knew he was sorry, but he couldn't help it. In a way, he was partly like Spencer Reid.

He held your face between his hands and kissed your forehead. Your eyes widened. Your body and mind were at war. He felt so much like Spencer, yet your mind told you you couldn't just replace Spencer with his doppelgänger in another dimension.

You'd never even considered pursuing anything with your friend; likewise, Matthew seemed to be on the same track until now.

You were just friends; so then why was he kissing your forehead so sweetly?

"Matthew?" You whispered, giving him a quizzical look.

He slowly shook his head, 'no.' It took a moment for you to understand.

You covered your gasp, placing your hand over your mouth.

"No, no, no- you're not? Are you?" You fumbled with your words, feeling your hands begin to shake.

"It's me. It's Spencer."

You held back a cry, reaching a shaking hand up to touch his face. He was looking at you like you were his entire world; that was how you knew it was him.

"Spencer!" You sobbed, pulling him into a tight embrace.

He wrapped his arms around you just as tight, lifting you off the ground, slightly. Your senses kicked in as you smelled the familiar coffee and woodsy-vanilla.

You cried into his neck, shutting out the rest of the world.

He pulled back, placing a hand on your cheek. You finally got a good look at him. His eyes were rimmed red with tears. It looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and his cheeks were slightly more hollow than you remembered. Was he sick?

"How did you find me?" You cried.

He smiled, placing your hair behind your ear. "It's a long story."

You swallowed down the swelling in your throat. "I'm afraid if I stop holding you, you'll disappear."

He shook his head, "Nah, I'm here to stay, if you want me to."

"Why wouldn't I want you to stay?" You laughed.

"Because we can stay here, or I can take you back."

Your eyes widened. "We can go back?"

He nodded.

"I-" You thought about Matthew, the crew, everyone you would leave behind. They had become your friends, but you knew Spencer couldn't stay here. He couldn't live in the same world as Matthew it could create some kind of paradox over time, you were sure. Every sci-fi film told you that was a possibility.

However, you knew you would be happy as long as you were with him, and the BAU had become your family. It was only right to go back.

"I want to go back to your dimension. I want to go back to the way things were."

Spencer's eyes brightened.

"Okay. I'll take you home."

He kissed you, deepening the kiss as a rush of emotions caught up with you both. You smiled into the kiss, feeling your chest vibrate with happiness at the familiar softness of his lips. He may have had the same body as Matthew, but his kisses were entirely different.

Finally, the hollow aching was gone. You had your Spencer back.

Spencer pulled away first and you whined, trying to chase his lips again. You'd gone so long without him, your body wanted to remember him all over again; to fill in the cracks of the memories that had started to fade.

"We can't stay here." He laughed, raking his fingers through your hair.

"Why not?"

"I don't know how much time we have if we want to go back."

"Right." Your body suddenly moved with a purpose, waiting to follow Spencer anywhere.

"I came in through Matthew's trailer." He grabbed your hand and led you to the trailer a few doors down from yours.

He knocked on the door and Matthew opened it, flashing a playful smile at the both of you.

"Hey, it worked!" He moved back to let you both in, you shut the door behind you. No one needed to know that there were inter-dimensional twins hanging out in Matthew's trailer.

"Thank you." Spencer nodded.

"No, no it's the least I could do." Matthew turned to you. "So I guess you're leaving through the strange crack in the aluminum trailer wall?" He pointed his thumb behind him.

"Yeah. Can't have two versions of you running around. I don't think the universe could handle that." You joked.

"Well, I'm going to miss you, but at least I know you'll finally be happy. What will I tell the cast and crew?" He smiled, sadly.

"I'm sure you'll think of something." You momentarily released Spencer's hand to hug your friend.

"Now you'll be catching unsubs in real life." Matthew spoke.

"I've gotten kinda good at winging it, I think."

Matthew rubbed your back. "I'm seeing myself give me a jealous look, so I think I should let you go now."

You rolled your eyes as you pulled away, looking back at, sure enough, your fidgeting genius.

"Good luck with the rest of your life, Matthew. I know you'll do great things. I hope they'll write Reid a new love interest." You said your final goodbyes.

Matthew nodded to you as Spencer grabbed your hand again. "Good luck catching real bad guys!"

Spencer tugged you through the crack, you turned and waved at Matthew. He was already waving back.

Once you made it through, the crack closed and emitted a glowing light. You guessed that meant it was sealed.

"Thanks for everything, Matthew." You spoke under your breath, patting the sealed wall.

You found that you were in a tunnel on your hands and knees, with no room to stand. You recognized it as the place you had crossed through to initially get to Spencer.

"Spencer?" You called out, scared. The light in the tunnel was almost pitch black.

"I'm in front of you, don't worry, it'll get brighter as we reach the end." You felt his hand momentarily on yours.

"Just crawl forward. If you get scared, tell me and I'll let you know I'm still here."

You had no idea how he was so calm. "O-okay."

You heard him start to shuffle against the tunnel's soft velvet fabric.

You crawled and crawled. Slowly, light started to emit from the folds of the fabric, illuminating the tunnel more as you pushed forward.

The light calmed you, the great view of Spencer's ass calmed you even more.

"Spencer my arms are getting sore." You didn't want to complain, but you had skipped out on breakfast, filmed an emotional scene early in the morning, and had a heartfelt reunion. You were exhausted and full of nerves.

"I can see the end of the tunnel, don't worry."

"All I can see is your ass in my face." You mumbled.

"Y-you can stare at your hands instead." Spencer stammered.

"Hey I'm not complaining. I've missed you. All of you. I've thought a lot about that last night we were together." You said cheekily. You knew he had to be blushing.

"I have too." He said, sounding distant.

A heartbeat later, you had reached the end of the tunnel. Spencer climbed out first and turned to help you off your shaking knees.

You were in a place full of moving lights, all different colors. You held tightly to Spencer's hand, trusting that he knew where he was going.

"How do you know where your dimension is?" You asked.

"I can feel the pull from it, I guess since I'm from there."

It was strange, you didn't feel that same pull towards your own dimension. You only felt sated, now that Spencer was by your side.

You followed him, walking in a comfortable silence. The environment confused you, but you knew it was something you just couldn't comprehend. It would be easier if you just accepted it was real and pushed on. Spencer must have thought the same because he seemed relatively calm, his hand gripped yours, as he rubbed his thumb along your knuckles every once in a while.

"You know, it wasn't your fault." You said as you studied the way his FBI vest looked loose on him. Had he been missing meals?

"What wasn't my fault?" He bit his lip.

"Me returning. I was kidnapped by the unsub, wasn't I?" You asked, not entirely sure how it exactly happened.

Spencer nodded. "I didn't even feel the bed move, I didn't hear him come in. If I had only woken up for a second, I could have stopped him." He spoke solemnly.

"Spencer stop and look at me for a sec." You halted and gave his arm a tug.

He did as you said.

You lifted your hand to his cheekbone, grazing your thumb over the skin there. The lights surrounding you casted a rainbow of colors onto his face.

"Spence, it was not your fault, okay? We were both exhausted. When he picked me up, I woke up for a second, but I thought he was you so I fell back to sleep again. I could have stopped it too. But it happened, and it was neither of our faults it was the unsub's fault only." Spencer took a deep breath and sighed; relaxing his shoulders as if you had taken off the weight he had carried there for over 5 months.

"I found you and that's what matters." He squeezed your hand. You both started to walk again. You wrapped both of your arms around his outstretched one, cuddling into him.

"And you're never getting rid of me now." You smirked.

"As if I would want to."

"How did you find me?"

"We found a house where the unsub was building a machine of some sort. He left behind papers full of quantum mechanics equations which all came together to form one big equation. I won't bore you with the specifics, but we eventually found the unsub again through a phone call lead I received from an unknown woman. I had already figured out the order of the equation, but there were missing parts. I realized it was time and space. When we got to the new location, JJ apprehended the unsub and I solved the equation in 2 minutes, jumped on the machine's platform, and ended up here." Spencer condensed.

Now was not the time to sit and talk about everything. You had to get back to his dimension, or risk getting stuck here.

"You did the impossible." Your eyes shined with pride for your genius. He blushed.

"And you jumped onto an inter-dimensional-quantum-time machine thing not knowing if it would even take you to the right place? Spencer Reid I should be cross with you for being so reckless!" You gently slapped his arm.

"I just wanted you back more than anything."

Your heart ached at his words. You stopped him and pulled his tie forward to kiss him. You wanted to deepen the kiss; you wanted to taste him again, but you forced yourself to pull away. I love you, Y/N." He whispered.

"I love you too Spencer."

You continued forward for what felt like 10 minutes, but it could have been any length of time; it was hard to tell here.

Spencer suddenly tugged you to the left, you turned and groaned as you saw another long tunnel. This place was going to give you knee bruises.

"You go first this time." Spencer suggested, biting his lip.

"Very sly," you rolled your eyes. "You're lucky I love you."

He smiled, sheepishly, and he crawled inside after you. Admittedly, you arched your back just slightly to give him an eyeful just because he was cheeky about it.

A few minutes in you grew bored and decided to suddenly stop. Spencer's face crashed into your butt.

"Hey!" He rubbed his sore nose.

"Maybe look at your hands and not my ass," you suggested. You turned to lay on your side and laughed at him. Simultaneously resting your sore limbs.

Spencer, not amused. Grabbed your ankle and slid you under him.

"Maybe stop arching your back; begging for my attention." He smirked. His voice had dropped an octave.

For the second time in your life you found yourself asking, was Spencer Reid dominant in the bedroom? You knew he could be at times, you didn't know to what extent.

"I-I didn't- Spence do you have a dominant side I don't know about?" You asked.

His smile dropped.

"You don't think I'm dominant?"

"Um, mixed signals?"

He pouted.

"Are you trying to be?" You asked, searching his eyes.

"I thought I just naturally was."

"Sometimes you are; it seems random when you let it come through. Maybe it's something we can explore when we get back." You tried to cheer him up.

Spencer swallowed, "y-yeah, I think I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

You bit your lip imagining how he could possibly act when he's not holding back.

Spencer cleared his throat. "We should keep going."

"Yeah," you breathed, dreamily. You didn't move.

Spencer laughed and rolled you over.

You went to stand on your knees again when you felt a slap against your ass.

You blushed, looking over your shoulder. "Spencer!" Did Spencer Reid just spank you?

"Just making sure you know which way is forward. I can break my nose against your bottom, you know."

"Oh my god, let's talk about something else, okay?" Your blush grew deeper.

The tunnel was becoming totally dark.

"It's getting dark, how do we know when we've reached it?" You asked.

"You'll see a pitch black hole, maybe climb through it feet fir-"

"Whoa!" You felt yourself suddenly falling face first.

You reached out and caught yourself with your hands before your face could contact whatever it was you had fallen on.

"Ow," you groaned.

Your knees had hit something hard. They were definitely bruised and bleeding. Your hands were scratched up.

"Are you okay?!" Spencer had swung his legs out first, landing, perfectly, in front of you.

"Nothing a hot bath and bandages won't fix." You mumbled, standing up.

"Your hands are bleeding!" Spencer squeaked, grabbing your wrists to inspect the damage.

"I'll live. Actually, no, I think I need Dr. Reid's special medical attention, once again." You teased, your mind reminding you of the time he mended and kissed your bruised knuckles.

Spencer shook his head with a smile and held your hands up, giving each one a kiss.

"Déjà vu." You giggled. He had a habit of making you into a giddy schoolgirl at times. In this moment, it could be your exhaustion making you delirious.

The crack in the wall next to you sealed.

"Where are we?" You looked around at a concrete interior.

"The warehouse. That's the platform I used to get to you." Spencer pointed.

You heard voices talking just outside. You pulled Spencer's hand to exit the building together.

"Spencer Reid, you have a lot of explaining to do!" JJ yelled, stomping towards him.

Her eyes softened when they landed on you. By now the rest of the team had arrived. They all took notice of you and Spencer, one-by-one. "Where the hell did you go, Spence? You disappeared into a bright light and didn't return for 3 hours!" JJ continued, walking up to give both of you a group hug. "Actually, I didn't disappear. I was a bunch of tiny particles moving at the speed of light. It gave me enough energy to break through to the void. From there, I followed a magnetic pull to a crack in Y/N's dimension. I found her and brought her back through a crack that opened here." Spencer explained, matter-of-factly.

JJ sighed and pinched her nose. "Listen, if I hadn't seen you blink out of here with my own eyes, I'd be rushing you to a shrink right now. You have a lot of explaining to do. Both of you."

The others came running over, Morgan scooping you up into a hug. "Pretty girl, where have you been?" He asked, setting you down.

Spencer slid his arm around you. You held him closer. "Maybe it's better if Spencer explained that," you replied, looking up at your own personal super hero.

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