#Maybe he thinks Bill's trying to 'mentor' him for something. Seems like the kind of thing Bill would imply and let Dipper fill in the gaps | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notthestarwar · 1 year

Text

character traits I'm looking for in a blorbo:

Familial love above all else, against the odds. Family- Loving someone you know is doomed as you couldn't not. You can't save someone from themselves. You can't save your brother.

A stolen childhood. Violence as a given, you're good at it but does that make you an awful person? If you could choose, you'd choose anything but. A life that can only kill you but which you seem to have no escape. One crap card dealt after the other. Learning how to show love and care for people long after you should have and understanding things that adults struggle with long before you should have. You were that kid who was 'Mature for their age' knew how bills worked and housekeeping. How to read people. but now as an adult you've no idea how to make friends?? To talk to people???

The need to protect. Aquiring a child because they deserve better than what you got. Being sure anyone is better than you but not leaving them till you find it. Well if you can't find it, guess you'll have to become it

Intelligence- high. Emotional intelligence-nil

Perpetrator who refuses to see themselves as anything but a victim. A shitty situation that made them what they are but didn't make them do what they chose to do. Everyone around them can see they are the problem.

Then, 2 flavours:

- thinks they are helping, making everything worse

- trying to do better and doing better, but thinking they make everything worse

If it isn't there I'll probably just imagine it is there.

It's gotta be sad but funny OK. Doomed from the beginning, but life is amusingly absurd. Absurd like absurdist? No, as in: its just stupid. Their life is a joke

Here's what I'm giving:

Jango-

-The emotionally distant parent who you kind of feel bad for at first,

-you understand why they are fucked up but then they keep doing increasingly shit things Which are getting harder and harder to rationalise

-While the stuff at the start was incredibly shit and bad luck, you're beginning to realise everything lately is self inflicted

-Had a bad childhood but is now determinedly creating much worse ones for his kids and is refusing to see it

-No friends, he's rejected most of them. Now only a few old ones left who are around to try and save his kids and have given up on him

- you look back at when he was young and can't believe how well intentioned he was??? What happened

- in with a terrible crowd, only interested in making him worse and definitely not calling themselves his friends

Padme-

-Burnt out child star.

-Life is spiralling out of control- this is fine

-Set on a course of self destruction

-Increasingly erratic. Contradictory. -Actually quite good at her job but as soon as she's not at work she does a load of things that are ultimately going to end her career

-All the handmaidens waiting for it to blow

-Retail therapy

-Impulse celebrity wedding. What do these 2 even have in common

Anakin-

- had a terrible childhood through no fault of his parents

- since he was like 10 they've been trying really hard to make up for that. He can't see it

- he is completely oblivious. Every time they lovingly try and fail to cut him off so he stops landing in jail, he's convinced they hate him

- weird creepy old man friend. Keeps buying him gifts. He's completely oblivious to the weirdness

- complete man child

- landed a incredibly hot competent girlfriend, you have no idea how. Maybe she thinks she can fix him? She isn't trying very hard

- is a mentor to a teenager, his dad set it up to try and get him to straighten up. He's completely led her astray and she's dropped out of school and nobody can get hold of her. Too busy drag racing

-ridiculously intelligent. Could have like been an astronauts or an inventor or something and cured some disease. More interested in programing droids to pull pranks. Complete underachiver

- only friends are pre mentioned old man, a droid, his girlfriend and the cousin who's pretty much given up on him and is out of the county (aayla)

Obi Wan-

-complete overachiver

- emotional intelligence 0

- refuses to admit how badly his emotionally distant father affected him

- unwilling and unknowing step in the generational trauma cycle

-drops devastating bits of backstory when you least expect it and will not elaborate

- thinks that he drags people down and so tries to push them away before they get hurt/ reject him

- sacrificed his adult life so he could raise his father's secret child. Immediately dropped out of college, went to parenting classes and became the biggest pushy parent known to man but can't just tell him he loves him.

-tries to make everything a lesson. Anakin is not receptive. Feels like he's being picked on/ can't do anything right

- raves about Anakin to everyone but anakin.

- Has pictures he likes to show everyone, causing much confusion to old ladies on public transport as his 'son' looks his age.

-The council ban him from talking about Anakin as he interrupts every meeting with a 'funny'/isn't my son great story

-completely blames himself for everyone in his life being terrible

- it is his fault but only because he has no time for the decent people and spends all his time trying to predict and hide Anakins next fuck up

- is just a nice dude so everyone in his life tries to keep in contact and help him out even if he's a total drain who never replies and can't ever accept help

- convinced he got his job out of nepotism but its 100% just because he's good at it

- only attracted to people who are bad for him. If you aren't mean to him he thinks you hate him.

Cody-

- massively intelligent, massively competent, could have been anything but he's here, doing the job his dad refused to do himself And looking after his brothers

- his dad is just the worst guy ever but he refuses to acknowledge it as he doesn't think its fair on his siblings (they all hate the guy too and don't understand why he's so forgiving. Apart from the youngest who loves every part of their dad and hates Cody as he thinks he's competition)

- terrified of becoming Jango

- gets overwhelmed by any of the emotional stuff and so most of his siblings think they resent him but actually they are the only good thing in his life

- constantly doing stuff behind the scenes for his brothers but fucks up every time he tries to tell them he loves them

- his boss is a mess but actually a nice guy, why does he work here??? He tries to make the guy go home and eat and was trying to get him to resign as this place is eating him up but the guy just thought it was because he wanted his job and so promoted him so now they are like doing the same job??

- he refuses to acknowledge this because that guys boss is an arsehole (palps) so instead they are stuck in this passive aggressive race to do the others paperwork

- maybe a little bit in love with his boss but really embarrassed about it. Frankly, Cody deserves better than that guy who can't even remember to eat and unrequitedly loving your boss is such a cliche. Cody is above it

- has somehow unwillingly started looking out for Anakin though he knows it's a lost cause. Bails him out of jail sometimes when his brother (fox) tells him he's in the cells to save Obi Wan a job

- is pretty sure his boss is in some kind of cult and is just too nice to admit it. Knows nothing about the Jedi as he really doesn't need to. Assumes random people are jedi.

- his brothers are obsessed with the Jedi and very jealous that he shares a office with kenobi. Keep asking him to introduce them to random jedi/mention them in convo

- wants custody of his younger brothers but knows he has no chance. Keeps thinking if he works hard enough he can end the war and try and get them off their terrible guardians who are clearly only in it for the money. As it is, has to wait till his brothers are old enough to age out and come to him

Fox

- sings to himself (nobody will ever believe you)

- covertly 'steals' decommissioned clones. Nobody knows but they do think it's a bit strange how everyone on the guard is either injured or has some kind of personality flaw/Impulse control problem

- has a sweet tooth and has been known to steal the syrups from the senators tea room (a crime that is surely not worth the reward)

- likes to manufacture small inconveniences for people that wrong him or his brothers (a favourite game of Cody's)

- rarely goes to bed. When he does he just lays there plotting.

- Hates his boss. Hates him. Thinks everyone knows he's evil and nobody cares

- secretly obsessed with animals and children. Pretends he doesn't know how the stray tookas keep getting in the building (he's covertly feeding them)

-prematurely grey

- has a tally chart scratched in to the wall of his bunk for every senator that's wronged him or his brothers (its in code (there's a betting ring running the odds of what he's counting))

- convinced he's inheritly evil and that every one of his brothers is an incredible person to whom he's a great embarrassment

- doesn't let himself care about anyone but his brothers

- acts like he doesn't care about them and is always trying to get away from them but then fixes everything while they are sleeping

- has a collection of random shit he's found being thrown away in his office. Can't walk past anything free. Lots of sponsored things. Many mugs. Lots of bizarre shit, many hats.

- Always bringing suspicious smelling/ looking plants in to the guard halls. Most are plastic.

- has a line of chairs in the hall by his office for shiney's to sit on while they wait to Talk to him (no1 topic: why the hell aren't I dead. Did you have something to do with this?)

- saves Fives and fakes his death. soon realises the man is more trouble than he's worth it's a constant job for the guard keeping him from killing the chancellor. (even though Fox keeps telling him its not a conspiracy, everyone knows.(nobody knows)) Would do it again in a heart beat

- whenever anyone visits the guard he runs around trying to disguise any 'dead clones' that might be recognised (he's terrible at this. More than once he's handed someone a plant and told them to 'be a tree' he pretty much thinks that if their face is covered it's a done deal. He's tried to put a sticker over Fives tattoo more than once.) There's a guard commander running behind him actually disguising them.

Wolffe-

- very scary

- the softest of all

- can't say no to a shiny so tries to be intimidating so they won't ask

- whenever his batchers ask for something he says no and is mean about it and then does it covertly anyway

- will never admit it was him

- is one half of a pair. Him and his general are on a mission to adopt the whole gar

- someone keeps getting to the 'faulty' clones before they do

- him and Plo have a memorial on board for the vode they lost

- always knows what's going on with his batchers before they tell him. If they try and leave medbay early they get a message before they're out the door (is it automatically scheduled??? How does he know?)

0 notes

darkcircles4lyfe · 3 years

Text

Death to All Might, Rebirth to Yagi Toshinori

So about All Might. I’ve been extremely wary of talking about what could happen to him because straight up saying “I don’t think he’s gonna die” is asking the universe to spite me. Plus it also feels like a room full of people turning to stare at me as if I said the Sun isn’t a star. Man has death flags everywhere, I know.

But, okay, *Bill Nye voice* consider the following:

Mr. Yagi here, if he overheard everything, just received the final nail in the coffin on his career. His time as the symbol of peace is not only over, it was in fact partially responsible for the current state of things, since he once did so much on his own that his absence now makes heroes and civilians alike ill-prepared to cope. I think it was very apt for that one guy to be wearing an All Might shirt--he was acting as a mouthpiece for the latent societal problems embedded in All Might’s legacy.

We know already that he’s been feeling useless. I love this scene and although I’m not gonna talk about it right this second, remember what Aizawa says about just “being here” being enough:

And we know from conversations with Inko that Toshinori is also reframed his purpose around looking after Izuku. But in the end, Izuku rejected his help, and it was his classmates instead who were able to save him. Now the very progress of humanity is rejecting him too. You may me wondering how on Earth I don’t see the logical conclusion of all this being his death. Hold on. It actually has a lot to do with the fact that we’re all expecting it. Nighteye himself saw it, and despite any contrary convictions anyone might have, the plot doesn’t seem to be veering away from that end. All Might Is Gonna Die, says absolutely everything.

It’s occurring to me that I have previous experience with this kind of plotline that probably little to no one else in this fandom shares, being that I’ve read a certain book series in which the main character is told in no uncertain terms that he will die (no, I’m not talking about hp). The series in question is T*e Und*rland Chronicl*s (censoring so it doesn’t get put in their side of tumblr) and I’m sorry but I’m about to go on a shameless tangent about it and spoil the ending for you.

So in this series there is a prophecy in every book, each one having something to do with war and conflict, and so far all of them have been right. In the last book [mc] finds out that it’s prophesied that he will be killed. Lots of the things in the prophecies are convoluted and metaphorical, but no, this one literally says “when the [mc’s title] has been killed.” He spends the whole book coming to terms with this, and he gives into it, only to find himself waking up in the hospital instead. “Wow, plot twist. /s” you may be thinking, and yeah sure, the mc in a kids book survived, big shocker. But it doesn't end there. After the war, there are peace talks, but they escalate until the two sides are on the verge of declaring war again. And [mc], bless him, has just been caught in the middle of all of this the entire time. He’s sick as shit of fighting, of watching the suffering and death of people he cares about. He draws his sword against both of them angrily, gives a speech saying he won’t take a side, and then promptly breaks his sword across his knee: “There. [mc’s title in the prophecies] is dead. I killed him.” He’s giving a huge middle finger to everyone there, to the man who wrote the prophecies, to the entire fucked up culture of it all. And so something that was taken literally turns out to be metaphorical. That is, if you still believe in the prophecies at all.

Hopefully you’re catching my drift here. What I’m saying is, even though this other series has nothing to do with bnha, it goes to show sometimes it’s the most absolute certainties that are red herrings, and a “death” can consequently be a symbolic one. In All Might’s case, it could be the death of hero society and a rejection of his own past. In other words, character development for Toshinori himself that reflects on the way the world is changing, too. Also there’s the fact that the mc from that other series I’m trying not to name has an honorary title, and I’m imagining that role he occupied “dying” could correspond to something that amounts to, “All Might is dead. I (Yagi Toshinori) killed him.”

And here’s another thing: we also have to ask ourselves what good a dead Toshinori is to Izuku, narratively speaking. Yes, Izuku has spent his whole life idolizing even the more toxic parts of All Might, and his idealized vision of his hero does need to “die.” But how about Toshinori as a father figure? Izuku regretting that his last interaction with Toshinori was to reject his help may drive home the fact that he shouldn’t go off on his own, but at this point it’s kinda redundant. If anything it would negate some of the progress that was just made because it’d make him extra paranoid about losing other people too. To be honest, the whole “Uncle Ben” trope, the mentor/father figure who dies and gives the mc a reason to do better, is so tired. Experiencing the death of a loved one really doesn’t deserve to be romanticized like that. I might as well admit that I’m speaking from experience, and let me tell you, losing someone you love suddenly, when you weren’t around, and with unfinished business--it makes you paranoid as hell that it will happen again. It literally gives me nightmares. Y’all, I cannot stress enough that trauma does not equal character development. Granted, just because I know this doesn’t mean Horikoshi does, but in general he does seem to lead his characters toward healing.

Okay, back to the present. Toshinori is turning away from UA. He likely feels useless and rejected. We can infer that what happens next will involve Stain, and we have a couple of extra clues to go with it: Stain considers All Might a true hero, and has stated that he would let All Might kill him. And since Horikoshi loves his parallels, we also have this fight between Endeavor and this random villain who admires him so much that he wants to die by Endeavor’s hand:

This suggests a confrontation in which Stain challenges All Might to live up to himself as he once was, so that as a hero he can vanquish Stain and symbolically overcome society's perversion of that role. But based on what All Might has learned about the system he upheld, Stain is wrong. All Might is not a “true hero” in the sense that the societal issues Stain witnessed exist not in spite of All Might, but (in part) because of him, because he took too much of the responsibility for himself.

Stain probably had no idea about the personal cost of All Might’s lonely burden until after the fact. Maybe he’s seeing it now. So then perhaps the confrontation would be more about Stain claiming he’s just as fake as the rest. Either way, Toshinori has the opportunity to denounce himself and be rid of “All Might,” to stop living in his own shadow. Nighteye’s vision has been defied before, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the combination of society shifting + Toshinori’s own conviction is enough to do it again and work fate in his favor.

He is not All Might. He is Yagi Toshinori: quirkless, worn down, and directionless except for his dedication to Izuku. If he survives his interaction with Stain, he can resolve his imperfect mentorship by confessing about his shortcomings and simply supporting Izuku as a part of his family, not as his teacher (as Aizawa said, just “being there”). And that’s how you really get character development, for both of them. I mean, shit, imagine Toshinori straight up telling Izuku to stop calling him All Might.

#disclaimer: I have a lot of emotional investment in dadmight #so I am hella biased #but hopefully I also have some unique insight to share #all might #yagi toshinori #bnha #mha #bnha meta #bnha 325 #bnha 326 #lin speaks

574 notes · View notes

skellebonez · 3 years

Text

Why Worry At All?

I had so much trouble writing certain parts of this out for some reason, which makes no sense to me because I chose to write this on my own without a prompt. But I finally nailed out the in between parts that were giving me trouble! So... Billy Kametz can sing, huh?

Xiaotian knew what they were hearing. They knew it!

They'd heard Xiaojiao before and she wasn't that deep. They'd never heard Sandy but he had to sound much deeper if he could. Tang and Pigsy were out of the question, Tang couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and Pigsy never did more than hum at a much different octave. It couldn't have been Wukong, he'd still been asleep from overexerting himself in their last fight.

So that only left Macaque as the one who could have been singing outside the med bay door.

“But then I guess we know there’s blame to share... and none of it seems to matter anymore...”

It was such a soft tune, something that Xiaotian barely recognized from a video online he watched long ago. Maybe something Xiaojiao had shown him. Something soft and gentle, which made no sense given the possible culprit. Or the fact he heard it being sing just outside his mentor’s room while he was checking on him. But he was hearing it through the door nonetheless. Almost whisper like in how soft it was, it was too weak to have been heard belted from a distance, and muttered almost a bit off tune. That only left it being from someone right outside the door. But why not just come inside?

Unless the singer, who again Xiaotian was certain was Macaque, didn’t want anyone- even Sun Wukong- to know it was them who was singing and they didn’t realize that anyone was in the room with the power drained immortal.

So, like anyone who heard a mysterious singing voice would do, they pulled out their phone and started recording.

The song only lasted for another few seconds before silence, and then the almost deafening in comparison sound of running footsteps.

And as Xiaotian looked down at the recording on the phone, less than even 20 seconds in length, they were struck by a realization.

“... I can use this.”

“Well well well,” Macaque said with a chuckle, turning to face the person who joined him on the deck of the self piloting drone ship. Just where they knew he would be at this hour of the morning. “Didn’t take you for a morning person, kid.”

“I’m not,” Xiaotian grumbled, hair down and unkempt and clearly barely brushed just to keep it out of their face. "But I wanted to check on Wukong after what happened yesterday.”

This made the other’s fur stand up and his tail tense, though whether this was because he realized what Xiaotian meant or of it brought his mind back to the fight of the day prior they couldn’t tell. The fight that, for some reason, Macaque left himself vulnerable during. That left him wiped out and barely able to move out of the way of an oncoming attack. That make Sun Wukong rush in and save him much to the surprise of everyone involved, Macaque himself included.

The fight that Xiaotian was beginning to think was going to change a lot more than just knowing the de-powered duo’s limits.

“You’re going to be honest with me for once.” they proposed, joining the immortal monkey at the guard railing he casually leaned against.

“What makes you think I’m going tell you anything?” Macaque asked, chuckling boastfully and smirking that damn smug smirk he’d been wearing almost every minute since he had been taken onto the ship.

The longer Xiaotian saw it the faker it seemed to be.

“Oh, I dunno... maybe this?” They rebutted, pulling out their phone and hitting play on the open audio file they had pulled up long before the conversation, and they watched with their own smirk as a look of surprise and then horror and then something akin to “resigned but impressed” flashed on the ancient demon’s face.

After hearing the other speak there was no doubt that the two voices were identical now.

“Qi Xiaotian,” Macaque said, an almost cat like smirk gracing his face. This one seemed slightly more honest than the last one. “I didn’t take you for a blackmailer. Maybe I did have an influence on you after all.”

“Why were you singing this outside Wukong’s room?” Xiaotian asked, not in the mood for playing the other’s games this early in the morning. “Why were you trying to hide it? Why did you not realize I was in there? And...” He gestured to his phone, the soft gentle sounds of an almost uncharacteristically sweet song playing through his speakers. “What the hell is this song!?”

“Alright alright,” Macaque said, holding up his hands before he leaned forward on the railing. “No need to give the the third degree, great hero. It’s just a song I heard online.”

“You know how to use the internet?”

Turning his head, Macaque leveled the other with a very over exaggerated wilting gaze of disbelief. “I am honestly offended you’d think I wouldn’t learn how to.”

The tone of voice he had did not give the impression that Macaque even gave a shit, but Xiaotian muttered an apology regardless, to which the other simply laughed at.

“There’s this guy... Bill something? Kinds sounds like me, you know. Found him by chance one day and just kinda looked for all his songs and memorized them a long time ago out of boredom.” He shrugged, a distant far off look on his face. “Almost considered just being a copy cat voice for him once, way before I found out where our great King was, but I never followed through with that. Shame, though, knowing I’m on par with Broadway. Probably could have snagged a pretty decent amount of yuan from desperate fans. Don’t really have much use for money, though so eh.”

He shrugged, and for once he sounded... honest. Just honest.

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it, not from you anyway. Just... didn’t wanna deal with Wukong waking up and hearing me sing for the first time after. Ya know.” He waved his hand with another shrug. “History and all that. It was just a moment I had with myself, nothing more.”

Xiaotian took particular note that he avoided one particular question.

“You’re awful open about all this stuff,” the Monkie Kid mused, the two of them watching the horizon slowly move under the drone ship as the sun rise continued. Everyone else would be getting up soon enough. “Even for blackmail.”

“It’s not really effective blackmail,” Macaque admitted after a moment, tail lazily swishing behind him. “Not content wise, anyway. I was bound to be heard eventually no matter how much I hid. Think of this as more a... reward for you being able to catch me unaware. Take a lot of skill to do that with my ears.”

“I know most of your powers are gone too,” Xiaotian said bluntly, dropping the real piece of information he was here to hold over the other’s head out in the open, and that got Macaque to freeze instantly. “Not like ours are but... I dunno. I didn’t really think that far ahead. But if you still had most of them we wouldn’t be talking right now. You ran away instead of just whooshing into the shadows I know were in the hall. You’ve been wearing earplugs since we let you stay, I saw Sandy give them to you and you’re even wearing them right now, but even with your hearing dulled you would have been able to know I was in that room. You’ve been walking through doors instead of just vanishing. I don’t think I’d seem you walk through one except for at the shadow play before last week, and that was obviously to get my attention. I don’t think I’ve seen you make a clone or transform either, or manipulate a single shadow. Why not flaunt your powers over us, knowing we don’t have ours since you’ve made a point to annoy us about our lost abilities, unless you don’t have yours too?”

The elder said nothing, only growled and glowered out at the horizon before letting out a deep sigh.

“You really are a good kid,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “Smart, too, when actually you put your mind to stuff. But you’re only half right.”

“What do you mean?” Xiaotian asked in shock, amazed that the other was even still admitting to anything point blank at this point.

“I still have all my powers, it’s just... Not a good idea for me to use them too much,” he said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk away from the young man in a way that clearly indicated this line of conversation was over with. “I know you can keep a secret, kid, so do me a favor. Keep quiet about this.”

That same humorless chuckle, the one the young man now realized was more common from the demon’s mouth than not, sounded as he stepped into the forming shadows of the driver’s post from the rising sun and seemed to fall and melt into the floor in an instant.

Xiaotian couldn’t help the flinch that ran through their body at the implications of that final sentence. His training of Xiaotian. The second meeting. The Calabash.

The White Bone Spirit...

“Asshole,” Xiaotian muttered under their breathe, taking the door instead.

The very first thing Xiaotian was greeted with when they entered the communal kitchen was low and muttered but still the less than whispered tune of a song by a pop punk bank from overseas.

“Why do we worry at aaaaall,” Macaque sang just loud enough for everyone around him to hear, the baffled and in some cased impressed faces of everyone (barring the presumably still resting Wukong) looking in his direction as he seemingly ignored them to prepare his own fruit based breakfast. “Why, just tell me why do we worry? When worries never happen tell me why, why worry at all?”

When Macaque turned to look at Xiaotian he smirked almost playfully, winking at him.

And the only thing that ran through Xiaotian’s head was “there goes half of my blackmail... asshole.”

Though... when he looked closer...

Macaque seemed oddly tired.

Did he have the dark bags under his eyes during their conversation before?

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #kinda sorta part of my s3 fic series #still debating on that #i wanted to work in the aladdin musical since billy was aladdin in that but i couldn’t find a song i liked #so i went with the joke/headcanon me and a few others on discord made about Set It Off being Macaque The Band #this isn't intended to be read as shadowpeach specifically but feel free to read it that was if you like!

169 notes · View notes

shinygoku · 3 years

Note

gordon gordon gordon gordon

Gordon Gordon Gordon Gordon!!

He's been sneaking into these asks by proxy, so it's finally time for his dedicated session, hehe~

First impression

WUAAAGH what's up with this WEIRD LONG NOT-THOMAS and his FACE?!

Impression now

His face is still pretty weird! But you know what else it is? Part of an Absolute Legend ✨

Like, man, Gordon is such a big presence and interesting character, the entire premise leans heavily on him. I'm inclined to go as far as to say that the Blue Boys of 1, 2 and 4 here are the three most important characters for the franchise (not at all to knock everyone else lmao) and they slot nicely into a Triforce of Courage, Wisdom and Power, and Gordon has Power in spades!

Gordon is The Vain One (not James!). He's legit very strong and the fastest on Sodor (which isn't just being a big fish in a small pond because that island has some crazy cool engines!) but unfortunately he lacks humility. His success seems to have been lodged in his head before the series even begins and this Pride is the source of pretty much every single conflict he's involved in.

But when it isn't his self satisfaction in his actions, it's being smug about being such a grand, magnificent Tender Engine and he is snooty as hell about it. He seems to look at smaller engines [pretty much everyone compared to him lol] as a lesser class, particularly if they're small and cheeky and Tank Engines. This may not be the case exactly, but his way of talking to them and some other things he says are very condescending.

However... as much as a gigantic jerk he is at several points, with Gordon I kinda feel like he plain ass doesn't conceive of his words being out of line. That and having to Unlearn things... he's not innately better than everyone else. He sees things in black and white. There are Useful Engines, and those who should be scrapped. There are Noble Tender Engines and Lesser Tank Engines who exist to do the tedious chores on behalf of the Superior ones. Edward doing shunting is seen as Demeaning and contradicts Gordon’s world view that Tender Engines Don't Stunt™, and he doesn't like that one bit! (Also Edward was crossing the picket line but that wasn't Awdry's concern lmao)

Related is Gordon does seem oddly dense at times, like assuming that Tenders are in of themselves a Status Symbol rather than a large lunchbox of sorts lol, or that Tender Engines like him being too heavy for Branch Lines being because something about Branch Lines are degrading. This might be all Elitist Brainwashing influence. But still, that he just takes these as The Truth means I get to affectionately call him an idiot. And there is no other way to explain how he genuinely believes Bill and Ben were going to murder him if he wasn't missing a few brain bolts in there.

Fortunately, he does eventually start to learn the important lessons.... very gradually, but the Early Gordon is a pretty different beast to Later Gordon, and it's wonderful~

Also, I gotta give credit to him for having some moments of utter brilliance and actual grasp of reality and more complex matters, like culture. (Yeah, I'm rolling with his geniune Opera Knowledge from s6 of all things. It's good!) As much as Awdry himself may have disagreed, Gordon was in the right to want a Station Pilot and the Strike was called for (not bullying Edward for it, but myeah) ...but this leads to my next point: He seems to have a mental block when it comes to Emotions.

Certainly, he's as emotional as the others are, it's not just a scale of Snooty, Arrogant, Condescending, Prideful ....well, it is, but ALSO the more mixed and varied feelings: Shame, Sadness, Fear, Ambivilance, Irritation, Anger, Passion, Amused, Delight and so on. However, Gordon is seemingly unaware of how his words may make the others feel, and even at his cruellest it doesn't look like he's aware he's twisting a knife in. To Gordon, he's being honest, but his verbose manner ends up twisting and wriggling away from any valid point like an overgrown vine that somehow links back to how [Other Engine] is disgracing him, Gordon, by association.

Examples include: Being offended by Henry's new shape (??? Gordon dude he nearly died and this is an improvement, a good thing!), saying that Edward's age and difficulty starting a heavy ass packed load of passengers is grounds to be Retired or even Scrapped, other little insulting things like calling the likes of Thomas and James Little insistently (it seems to vary if he's trying to put them down or actually be affectionate), and many more when in the hands of inept writers who have to wheel out the same Gordon Learns A Lesson Plot every other season.

Like I said in the James post, I also think he kinda poisoned the Red guy with his snooty attitude... but I maintain that I think Gordon was unaware of this. He may know he has Influence, and enjoy that, but he really truly doesn't appear to mean to mould James into a smaller, redder version of himself. He's oblivious and from his own point of view, benevolent. Which is in fact a dangerous combo indeed!

It's... a lot o7;;

Again though, if you're looking at the books and s1-s5 of TVS you can see him grow and change. He does take a while to learn the lessons, but as time goes on he moves 2 steps forward and 1 step back, then eventually less steps back entirely. It's great! And so is Gordon. A big dumb meathead with not entirely uncalled for delusions of granduer. A dramatic so-and-so who is the best engine for his job.

I love this sophisticated jock who grows more kindness~ 💙

Favourite moment

Hm! This isn't as easy to decide lol. We all like Gordon Goes Foreign... but you know what sticks in my mind more?

hOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH

Look, I’m not 100% objective, here! But Ringo’s read of this line is fantastic (and keeps making me expect him to finish saying OOOHH SHIT) and it’s also a well deserved bolt of divine retribution for how rude he was being earlier. (As long as my essay already was, he very much needed the knocking down of some pegs here!)

Idea for a story

While both my fics with him thus far have been variations of Pre-Canon, Full-Arrogance and Snobbish Gordon (and both were a lot of fun!) ...but I cannot bear the same expired horse being beaten more when the story is set waaay later but he’s still up his own ass. Please, PLEASE writers, let him hold what growth he’s managed to gain!

I think it’d be good to accept that he’s gonna be outdated sooner or later, so have him help train another High Speed Engine and take them under his wing. The Christopher Awdry books kinda have something similar with Pip and Emma, but I think a better way of having Gordon be involved would be if he was actively doing some mentoring himself, as well as being a neat parallel with Edward, whose type was once Express only but got outclassed by A1s, and so the same can happen to this big A1 -> A3 lad and he can form a healthy relationship with some bright eyed newbie (and maybe have some self awareness and try to stop their head getting too large, lol).

Unpopular opinion

I know I just said him mentoring would be a cool story idea, but in canon? He is NOT a resident Dad type!! He’s a hotshot young man but he’s also a hot mess. He’s physically large but he’s not got the Energy of someone who dispenses sage advice and a shoulder to cry on. At best, he’s a weird uncle! One who means well but you shouldn’t take his life advice to heart because he’s actually just as, if not more clueless than you!

Favourite relationship

I feel inclined to say Thomas here. Emphatically not because Gordon is ‘old’ and Thomas is ‘young’, but because they’re so damn alike and actually make an excellent, albeit unconventional type of Rivalry.

Both are self important with genuine finesse in their respective talents, both are honest to a fault, both have redeeming qualities to offset their initial abrasiveness, and the first TVS episode is centred on the both of them and sets the tone for the series as a whole. There’s more parallels, of course, but I also wanna point out they’re effectively the mascots of North Western Rail in universe too, and I absolutely love this picture:

I also have immense fondness for the Down the Mine paradigm shift! Thomas gives Gordon grief over the ditch incident and later when it emerges the Fat Controller is gonna send for Gordon to pull him out, Thomas is filled with dread. But Gordon isn’t using the chance to lord over Thomas, he’s actually so amused by Thomas’ mishap and it coming at a time where he’s been significantly humbled, they instead become Comrades and I love it. I eat it up! Paint Pots and Queens isn’t anywhere near as good but I adore the little bit where they’re appealing for the other, equals and watching each other’s back~

But yeah, as Friendly Rivals they both feel very authentic and yet, in a daft way, sweet ;3

Favourite headcanon

He still says “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” when pulling the Express. That’s a HC as I think the show phased it out, but I like it lol. I feel like my essay on him contains most of the headcanon stuff, but it’s all based on what’s shown, baybee!

#this is ttte #TTTE Gordon #ttte talk #Gordon the Big Engine #Thomas the Tank Engine #TTTE Thomas #snuck in a bit in there lol #mentioned Edward a lot as well but not in as much depth #I love me some Blue Engines #TTTE

69 notes · View notes

xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

Impulse: Informant (Javier Peña x Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Nothing much! Flirting, mentions of voyeurism(?), drinking, hangovers.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Bit more background this week, not that exciting but some fun moments with Javi and Steve. Alternative title: Meeting your killer and flirting with the boss ENJOY

<-- Previous Chapter // MasterList // Next Chapter -->

---

Two months passed quickly and you were settled in well. You were comfortable in your job; you, Javi and Steve made a great team and you were learning a lot from the both of them. You tried to avoid interacting with Carrillo directly where possible, he was still as icy about you as your first meeting. You met Steve’s wife, Connie, and became fast friends with her. She had become one of your closest friends, and a welcome break from the machismo that radiated from your two teammates.

You had even managed to make a few friends outside of work. You met María Parreño at the cafe you visited nearly everyday for lunch. What started out as a little wave, now was lunch together nearly everyday, and the occasional shopping trip at the weekend. María was a sweet girl, funny and very sly when she wanted to be.

You were careful, giving a fake name and lying about your job. You could never be too careful in Colombia. Plus, with how rich her family were you wouldn’t be surprised if you crossed paths with one of them during your investigation into Escobar’s dealings. So, Maria knew you as Isabela Serrano, you worked in the American embassy on the phones. You had lived in the USA for ten years, hence the accent, and moved back to Medellin after your abuela died. María didn’t take much convincing.

You enjoyed her company. It was a lot nicer to have a conversation about books you’d both been reading over nice food, than trying to eat over photos of blood crime scenes. Plus, the coffee here didn’t taste like soap.

“Isabela, can I tell you something,” María turned to you, set her cutlery down and looked over at you seriously.. Puzzled, you put down your drink and smiled.

“Of course, you can tell me anything,”

“Diego got a new job,”

Diego was María’s boyfriend. Her father’s mechanic. A total cliché, her father had forbidden them to date but she did it anyway just to piss him off. You didn’t know much about Diego, you’d only met him once or twice in passing when he came to pick his girlfriend up from a shopping trip.

“You’re saying that like it's something scandalous,” You laughed nervously, “What? Has he become a stripper?”

��He’s working for Escobar,” She whispered.

“What?” You nearly choked your coffee in shock. You set it down on the table carefully and leant in a little to listen to her, not believing what she said. It was not an impossible thing, lots of people worked for him in lots of different capacities. You hadn’t expected it so close to home.

“I know! That’s what I said!” She said, “He came home the other night saying he got this new job doing something for Pablo! I said Pablo who, I know lots of Pablo’s. The man just looked at me like I was an idiot! Pablo fucking Escobar!”

“What does he do?” You asked, you had to know how dangerous this could be for you. Or how helpful this could be, you thought. Being close to someone close to Escobar could be invaluable.

“Escobar?” Maria asked.

“No! What does Diego do for him?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugged, “He said something to do with cars,” You relaxed a little at that. Escobar’s mechanic was not a very useful lead.

You glanced down at your watch and sighed. Your hour was up. Just as you had got to something useful!

“Shoot I’m sorry María I’ve got to head back to work,” You drank down the last of your coffee quickly and stood up. “But you’ll keep me updated with this Escobar business right? It’s just all so exciting!” You put down your share of the bill on the table and threw on your jacket.

“Of course!” María smiled, “One of Diego’s friends is having a party! You should come!”

“I’ll be there,” You nodded, “Same time Saturday?”

“See you then!”

Before you left the café you bought two coffees to go for Murphy and Pena as a way of apology for being late back. You had promised to be out less than an hour as Pena had important things he needed to go over with you and Murphy. By the time you got back, he had already started explaining the new information to Murphy in a conference room.

“Then we have-,” Javi was speaking as you walked in carrying coffee for the two men. You instantly recognised the face in the photograph and interrupted him.

“Diego Castillo,” You said. The two men turned to you, confused. Unfazed you passed them the cups and sat down next to Murphy on the end of the table.

“How’d you know that?” Steve asked.

“I know him. Or rather his girlfriend,”

“What?” Steve nearly choked on his drink at your confession.

“I didn’t think I had to tell y’all everything I do in my spare time,” You laughed.

“Hanging out with Narcos would have good to tell us,”

“He’s not a Narco, he fixes Escobar’s cars! He’s not anyone important. It’s chill,” You waved him off. He was being ridiculous, ”Besides I’m friends with his girlfriend who has no idea what’s going on. I’ve met him maybe twice” You explained, “María’s a sweetheart, we talk about romance novels and go shopping!”

“Castillo doesn’t fix the cars. He runs the whole road operation,” Javier said. Your jaw dropped.

“Well shit,”

“Anything else you wanna share?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know but Monday I might,” You sipped on your coffee before continuing, “I got invited to a party, I was going anyway but-.”

“No, no you can’t go now we know who he is,” He exclaimed.

“This could be invaluable!”

“You’re not allowed to have an informant,”

“It’s not an informant if I am the one with the info!” You argued.

“Javi? Gunna chime in at any point?” Steve turned to his partner, desperate for some help as you had already spiralled far enough on this idea. You turned to Javi with a determined look.

“They don't know my name, they don’t know where I work,” You explained rapidly, “I know what I am doing, just trust me, please?”

“Fine,” Javier broke easily. The idea made sense.

“What the fuck! Javi she-,”

“She’s right. Neither of us is going to ever get that close and she’s new here, people don’t know her and you said you gave them a fake name?” Pena explained, you nodded, “Technically she won’t be breaking any rules if she’s the one feeding us information directly,”

“If anyone finds out-“

“No one will find out, it stays between us, in this room,” Javier said gravely, “I trust you Y/n,”

You smiled and nodded, a sense of pride washing over you. Steve muttered and grumbled under his breath but he didn’t outwardly complain so the decision was made. You were going to feed information you found out through Maria to the DEA, going undercover. Nobody had ever mentioned no undercover work, the idea of sending a rookie into that kind of situation was insane, but you wouldn’t be technically breaking any rules.

The party was a bust. There was nothing of interest apart from the attendee’s themselves. Everybody was civil, there was no talk of business- as explicitly called for by the hosts, and apart from one fight between two guys over a soccer match there really was nothing to report. You spent the evening with Maria and her friends, drinking and dancing. Having a good time.

They were decent enough people if you ignored the way they all got their wealth. A little hard to relate too at times- you didn’t have a private jet or a house with a huge pool but Maria’s friends were surprisingly friendly and once the jokes about being a gringa were out the way they seemed to like you.

There was no information but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a well worth evening. You had their trust now. That would be invaluable moving forward.

It was payday. Everyone you worked with was going out for the evening to let loose. You were with a large group of people from the office. Some you recognised, some you didn’t but either way you were having a great time chatting to people. The alcohol was cheap, the music was great and the company was perfect. Nobody here complained that their dad wouldn’t let them import Italian handbags anymore or that their pool wasn’t big enough. You felt much more at home here, amongst peers and friends.

After a few hours of chatting to people, you retreated to a table with Javier and Steve. Eventually even Steve left, leaving just you and Javi alone. You were drunk, no other word for it. Your eyes were heavy, a grin plastered on your face and you swayed in your seat to the music listening to Javi talk.

You rested your hand on your head and watched Javier for a moment. He looked very handsome, as he did nearly every day. He wore a blue jean jacket, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top showing off his tan skin. You watched as he smoked a cigarette, watching girls at the bar. A pang of jealousy hit your chest, you wondered if you weren’t sitting here as his rookie if you would catch his attention. Before you could think, you asked the question aloud.

“If I was just a random girl in the bar, would you hit on me?” You asked, sipping your drink.

“I’m not answering that!” Javier laughed, “I know you,”

“I’m hot! Why wouldn’t you?” You exclaimed, “Hot girls not your type?”

“You’re not my type,” Javier corrected you. You gasped dramatically.

“I’m taking offence to that! Your type is anything that breathes,”

“You think so little of me,” He shook his head solemnly.

“Baby I’ve known you for months now. You don’t have a type!”

“Baby?” Javi smirked at you.

“Shut up I’m drunk,” You dismissed him.

“Well what if I ask the same question to you?”

“Would I hit on me? Absolutely!” You exclaimed.

“No! Would you hit on me?”

“Nah,” You shook your head and screwed up your nose.

“Liar!”

“Am not!”

“Come on don’t pretend like you wouldn’t,” He said, “You’d be all over me,” The energy shifted as he looked at you. Immediate eye contact, his dark eyes looked you over quickly drawing you into him. He leant forward slightly as he readjusted himself on the chair and brushed his bottom lip with his thumb drawing your attention to them. Your breath hitched, lips parted and your eyes flickered to his lips. Was he going to kiss you? Suddenly he broke the eye contact and laughed, settling back in his chair. “See! You would,”

Dazed you shook your head and cleared your throat. Javi smiled smugly.“No, No! That's not fair! You being smoother than fucking peanut butter doesn’t mean I would hit on you if I saw you! You’re old and grumpy looking, I like my men young and energetic,”

“So I heard,” He said as he tipped his drink into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s gross,” You exclaimed when you finally realised what he meant.

“Goes both ways, Baby, if you can hear me I can hear you,”

“So you listen to me fuck?” You countered. Javi choked on his drink.

“N-no I-,” Javi stuttered ands tumbled over his words, blushing slightly

“You do! Dirty bastard!” You exclaimed. “Do you get off to it?” You asked, quieter now leaning in closer to him. Javi didn’t reply, taking a gulp of beer and breaking your eye contact. You laughed again, “Javier Peña speechless! Wow! Pretty sure I can retire now and I’d be happy,”

“I’m getting another drink,” He grumbled, getting up from the table.

“Tequila please, Baby!” You called after him.

—

You woke up with the worst hangover you had ever felt. Before you really opened your eyes you darted to the bathroom to throw up. You groaned into the toilet bowl, annoyed at yourself more than anything that you had gotten so drunk. You didn’t remember coming home, didn’t remember leaving the bar. The last thing you remembered was sitting with Javi drinking tequila like it was water. The memory made you gag again, how did he ever get you to drink tequila?

You padded into your tiny kitchen to get a glass of water, and start your usual fix all hangover cure. Salted chips and Coca Cola. The sugar and salt combination would do wonders and had saved you multiple times after a heavy night before training back home. You found a bag of chips in the cupboard but no cola. In fact, your fridge was practically empty, bar an old jar of salsa that you were pretty sure had been sitting there since before you arrived in Colombia. The idea of having to go out to the shop made you want to cry. You rested your head on the fridge door and groaned as another pulse shot through your skull. Then you had an idea, the Murphy’s would probably have some!

You could tolerate seeing other humans at least for a few minutes. So you pulled a pair of shorts on and a vaguely clean t-shirt, took your keys and went across the hall to your favourite couple. The hallway was bright as sunlight streamed through the open window, you winced and shielded your eyes. You knocked twice on the door, the established knock for friends, and took deep breaths as you tried to not give into the need to throw up again. After a moment, Connie opened the door, a wide grin on her face when she saw your fragile state.

“Good night?” She teased you. You frowned and pouted at her.

“Remind me never to go out with Javi alone ever again, I can’t remember leaving that bar,” You groaned. “Do you have any pain killers? And some cola,”

“Cola?”

“Yeah. Cola and salted chips, the best hangover cure. Got the chips but no cola and the idea of going outside today makes me want to off myself,”

“Come on in I’ll see what I’ve got. The boys are in there,” She let you into the apartment and disappeared into the kitchen. Javi and Steve sat on the couch watching TV in the living room, the noise made you wince.

“Afternoon Rookie,” Steve greeted you smugly. You grimaced and leant on the arm of the couch next to him.

“What's the score?” You asked, watching the soccer match on screen for a few moments.

“3-3,” Steve answered.

“I’ve got Pepsi, that's okay?” Connie called from the kitchen.

“Yeah! Anything’s fine,” You called back.

“Can’t you go buy yourself cola instead of stealing mine?” Steve complained.

“Your wife said I could have it Murphy, suck it up,” You shove his shoulder weakly, “Besides, I’m pretty sure if I step into direct sunlight I’ll burn to ash. I’m taking your cola and retreating to my bed,”

“What did you two even get up to after I left?”

“Ask him, I cannot remember,” you laughed.

Javi looked up briefly, took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged. He looked as rough as you felt. Neither of you had come out particularly well.

“Here you go sweetheart,” Connie returned to the living room with a bottle of Pepsi in her hand and a small box of painkillers.

“You’re a star Connie what would I do without you,” You stood up from the couch and took the items from your friend. “Later boys,”

“See ya Monday Rookie!” Steve called after you.

Next Chapter -->

oop Rookie and Javi flirting?!? Could never. Also coming next week this ish is getting a whole lot angstier again. I can never keep things nice for long haha

Tagging: @beskar-tano @buckysbeloved @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @themidnightsun-12 @wille-zarr @danniburgh @itsaisopodkillmepls @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @lesbianlena @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick

155 notes · View notes

princessamericachavez · 3 years

Text

Fuck it. Today I get to be self-indulgent and tell you about the entire Fjorester Hallmark Christmas Fanfic that is way too long for me to write these days but I have entirely laid down in my head so instead I’m going to write about it as a bulletpoint fic.... sort of... you’ll get the grasp. Just strap along for the ride.

(This is obvious and shamelessly based on Tis The Damn Season by Taylor Swift, you can fight me. I said it was self-indulgent)

Okay, so first of all, the group are all friends and knew each other all through college, right?

Jester studied psychology (she’s an emotional healer, you know?) and especialices in art therapy.

Fjord did a marine biology major with an acting minor, because deep down he’s a theater nerd but doesn’t dare admit it because he needs to want a “real” career, you know? Also, he paid for his studies with a full swimming team scholarship.

I legit don’t know what everyone else studied —this is the kinda stuff I would figure out while actually writing the fic— so you get to fill those blanks!

ANYWAY, basically during college Jester had this art teacher, Artagan, who she became weirdly friendly with (you sometimes become friends with your college teachers, they aren’t even that much older than you and half the time are just as tired)

So this art teacher is delighted by her, right? Keeps telling her how talented an artist she is and how she should definitely come with him to LA after this year is over. He’ll get her into a gallery! She’ll be famous and amazing!

So Jester goes. And her heart aches. And maybe leaving her mama is so damn hard. And maybe, maybe, she doesn’t want to say goodbye to Fjord but she’s been in love with him for so so so long and he never seemed to see her in that way, so she can’t put her life on pause for him. She can’t. Even if the night before she leaves it looks like he’s trying to tell her something, to half confess something that he never quite does say out loud and her heart falls and she leaves.

ANYWAY here is where our story begins.

Jester comes back for christmas after six months away and she is EXCITED to be home!

(maybe a little too much, maybe things aren’t going as great in LA as she expected) (and mayyyybe she’s a little nervous to see a certain someone but it’s ok)

Fjord picks her up at the airport. He knows her mama doesn’t like going out much and he really, really, really insists that it’s no big deal. His car is old and shitty and there was an incident once that made Jester start calling it “The Ball Eater” to Fjord’s endless dismay (and bemusement).

Anyway the ride home is light hearted, they make small talk and laugh about old times and Jester talks so much about how amazing everything in LA is but Fjord can’t shake the feeling that something about her, despite her smile, seems sad.

He also can’t help the desire to hold her hand, or kiss her, or at the very least confess how uselessly in love he’s been with her for years, but she’s only here for like four days because she needs to go back to LA for her big New Years gallery show that Artagan put together and he can’t ask much from her without getting in the way of her dreams, so he doesn’t.

So they get home and Marion is as delightful as ever and Jester finds out that Fjord has been helping her fix some things around the house (oh so you’re a very handy man, Fjord! *wiggles eyebrows*) and he’s been buying her groceries because he knows Jester used to do it because Marion is always so busy performing at the Chateau (and doing other things for her fancier clients, but Fjord would rather not bring that subject up too often) and he just thought it would be important for someone to look after her from time to time.

Jester has to choke back tears because she is so moved that he is so wonderful with her mama even when she’s gone. Her heart flutters and it’s terrifying.

So Fjord leaves and Jester and her mama spend the whole afternoon together, catching up and baking cupcakes and watching christmas movies until Marion has to go to work.

Meanwhile, Fjord is trying to figure out what to do with himself and with Jester —nothing, he decides, he shouldn’t really say anything— and keeps pacing around his apartment to the endless bemusement of his roomate.

Caduceus was MEANT to go home for the holidays, but there was some kind of change of plans with his family at the last minute (or so he says, he hasn’t been very forthcoming about it and Fjord suspects they might have had an argument or something or maybe Cad just decided not to go home, but how is he supposed to know? He never knew the first thing about families) so now Caduceus is here and for the first time in his life Fjord is not spending Christmas alone.

Caduceus suggests honesty is the best course of action, that he should just tell Jester how he feels. Yeah. Right.

Anywayyy

Jester gets together with the rest of her friends “The Nein” they call each other, though they have never been nine, just to mess with people who keep asking and getting weirder and weirder answers. They get some drinks.

While Fjord is away getting drinks, Beau mentions what a shitty year she’s had and Jester’s brow furrows and Beau says it was just a lot of shit, you know? Vandran just up and leaving town, handing in his thesis (though his tutor, Mrs. Melora was delightful and supportive). She doesn’t mention how depressed Fjord was over Jester leaving, though, but she does say that the cherry on top was his fucking ex showing up again.

“Avantika came back?!”

Jester’s chest twists with the painful memory of jealousy and anger and worry over how unhealthy the whole thing was and how sick and sleepless and exhausted and sad Fjord seemed though the entire relationship before he finally gathered the courage to break things up.

Veth knows that, so she brushes it off with a quick “it’s fine, he told her to go fuck herself” and Jester feels maybe a little better —even though she totally has no right because she and Fjord aren’t a thing and he can do whatever he wants ok? she totally doesn’t care, totally.

Still, maybe, on the way back home she asks if he’s okay and she’s so worried and hesitant and Fjord just melts and assures her he’s alright, that he already knew when Avantika came back that she was not what he wanted, that he deserved more... that he wanted more... and he’s so earnest and breathless that Jester thinks he might really be in love with someone else, then... it doesn’t occur to her that all he can think about is kissing her in that moment, parked outside her mama’s house.

The porch’s front light turns on, the moment passes, they say goodbye.

Fjord comes over on the 24th to hang out. Apparently, Caduceus is a little bit more homesick than he is willing to admit and decided to unload all of his Cain Instincts on Fjord. Jester is delighted by the idea of Cad secretly being a prankster, but she lets Fjord hide out with her and her mama as they decorate the house (Marion didn’t have time to before between shifts) and make cookies and watch movies.

And it’s so easy, so sweet and comfortable, that Jester can’t help but feel like this is what life is meant to be, she can’t help but fantasize about what things could have been like...

Fjord finally asks what’s wrong. She tries to dodge the question first, assuring him she’s alright, but Fjord has known Jester long enough to figure out that something is weighing on her and he insists that she can tell him anything.

Jester finally breaks and admits LA isn’t everything she dreamed. It’s pretty great, sure, and she got a job as an art therapist in a nearby clinic and the gallery is going to be great and fun but she feels so lonely, she’s tried to make new friends but everyone is too busy or stuck on their own road to success to really get to know them, she misses the Nein, she misses her mama, she misses her home and Fjord. Besides, Artagan has been so busy with planing the gallery (and all of the other cool artists he has been collecting to showcase there and she didn’t know about before) and he’s just not as focused on being her artistic mentor has before. It’s just a lot.

And Fjord listens and nods and assures her that she’s brilliant and amazing and she will be alright, but she can always come back home if she wants (god, he wishes she would return).

instead, Jester says he should come to LA because they used to talk about this, about both going there and trying their luck as artists. “You are such an amazing actor, Fjord!” She insists but Fjord is too anxious. Dreams don’t pay the bills. He can’t just drop everything just to follow a dream... just to follow her.

It gets quiet after that.

On the way out, Marion overhears that Fjord is planing to spend christmas alone with Cad on their apartment and insists they should come over for diner instead.

Jester is delighted! It’s usually just her and her mama (who usually has to leave early because she works christmas night at the hotel) but now Cad and Fjord can come too! And the others should too! Beau and Yasha are here alone too and Veth can bring Yeza and Luke and Caleb will definitely want to spend it here instead of the library right?

So the Nein end up all invited to Jester’s christmas party.

Which, of course, means they HAVE to do a secret santa.

Jester gets Caleb, so she enlists Veth and Beau to go shopping for his gift to make it extra especial.

While they are out doing chores, Caleb texts Jester and asks if he could talk to her later that afternoon. She wonders out loud why that would be and Veth blurts out: “he’s probably finally gonna tell you he’s in love with you”

And Jester would brush it off with a flirty joke if it wasn’t by the way Beau slaps the back of Veth’s head and tells her “you said you wouldn’t tell on him!”

So Jester is shocked and confused and thrown off balance because she never even considered Caleb like that. Does Caleb like her? Is he in love with her? Is she supposed to know that? To like him back? Oh no, he’s going to tell her this afternoon isn’t he?

And she has to give him a christmas gift for the secret santa!

Caos and overthinking ensue and finally Jester buys Caleb a big thick book he’d been eyeing for a while but that he’d deemed too expensive to get and a very long scarf with lots of tiny cats and there’s nothing romantic about it but she’s still worried about it.

So, either way, Caleb and Jester meet up for a late coffee (Caleb is basically immune to caffeine at this point so it’s fine and Jester only drinks hot coco so it’s alright).

And Jester jumps the gun, she goes on and on and on about how she had no idea and she’s so sorry and she’s not sure about how to feel with this but she doesn’t want to hurt Caleb because he’s such a good friend and she really does care about him a lot but-

Caleb cuts her off with a laugh. He already knew she’s not in love with him, which is why he never brought the subject up. He’s fine, he’s moved on.

Oh?

Actually, he wanted to talk with her because he is seeing someone else (ESSEK) and he wanted to know if it would be alright to bring him over for christmas tomorrow. He thinks he’s ready to introduce them to his friends and a party seems like a good idea.

Jester is delighted again and assures him he totally can come and not to worry about the extra space or work or food because Caduceus and Fjord promised to come help her prepare everything for the party.

She grabs his hands and assures him with a bright smile that she’s incredibly happy for him and hopes this is the good kinda love that makes him feel warm and fuzzy and smile. And Caleb blushes and nods and mumbles that maybe it is.

CUT TO: Fjord is totally accidentally watching this from outside the coffeeshop because he was out buying gifts too (for his secret friend, Beau, a dope set of weights... and for Jester, a tiny unicorn that he just saw and had to get for her because he knew it would make her so happy).

Either way, as you can imagine, what Fjord sees is easily misunderstood.

Cue: heartbreak.

Which gets us to christmas morning filled with excitement and presents and hugs.

Fjord and Caduceus come over to help the Lavorre women cook (Fjord feels a little responsible over turning their little yearly diner into a fully blown party because he mentioned they were spending it alone at home).

And Fjord is sad. He isn’t angry, or rude, or jealous... okay, maybe a little jealous, but mostly he’s just heart-broken and Jester can tell something is off, but Fjord makes an effort to smile and pretend like everything is fine and –wow, whoever he is in love with (that person he said he now new he wanted) might have broken his heart and Jester is so confused and at a lost.

Anyway, it’s Caduceus who finally has enough of the mopping around and pulls Fjord aside to figure out what’s wrong and Fjord just blurts everything out: Jester and the feelings and the almost kiss in his car and the hanging out and the stupid little unicorn he has back at home and now doesn’t dare give her and Jester holding Caleb’s hands and how stupid he feels and how he had no right to feel that way anyway...

Cad lets him ramble and in the end just sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder and says: you should give her the gift. Did you get it so she would love you? Did you get it to get something in return?

No, Fjord says, he just wanted to make her happy.

Well, it will still make her happy, right? Isn’t that what you want?

And Fjord nods despite the hurt and Cad thinks he is so clever because of course he knows that Jester is in love with Fjord and that Caleb has moved on but he figures his roommate needs to figure it out himself this time.

And so, the party comes.

They do the secret santa early, because everyone is too chaotic and excited to wait to figure out what gifts they will get and they all want their friends to see the awesome gifts they got them already.

Fjord nearly bites through his cheek while he sees Jester give Caleb her secret santa gift.

Yasha gives Jester a beautiful dress, dark but artistic, that everyone insists she must try on and model for them at once because the world really hates Fjord and wants to make him blush and squirm as much as possible over the girl of his dreams.

Caduceus gets Fjord an amazing movie collection with all the western classics he loves and it’s probably one of the nicest gifts he’s ever gotten.

The tiny unicorn weights like a fucking ton inside Fjord’s pocket through most of the night. He convinces himself that he can’t give it to Jester, it would be overstepping. If she loves someone else, he needs to respect that.

And then Essek shows up, and Fjord understands many things at once, and he’s so stupid he wants to laugh and hit himself at the same time.

And yeah, just because Jester isn’t in love with someone else it doesn’t mean that she will like him now... of course not... but he feels a little bit less like a terrible friend and person for wanting her to.

He pulls her out to the porch with some dumb excuse and after a lot of awkward small talk he finally brings out the tiny unicorn.

Jester is delighted. What? Why? When? And Fjord just tells her the truth, that he saw it and thought of her and how happy it would make her and he had to...

So Jester kisses his cheek and he blushes furiously and just as the moment is about to die down Veth shouts from inside that someone hid a lot of mistletoe around the house and that she is not kissing any of her friends thank you very much.

So the two of them look up just in time to see GUESS WHAT hanging over their heads. Because of course.

Blushing. Awkwardness. I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t- I mean if you- I mean I do- Do you? Yeah. Wait. Really? I mean, do you want to? Y-yes!

They kiss.

And it’s quick and shy and not really a big romantic kiss, barely a peck between two friends terrified of fucking everything up.

The night goes on and neither of them can stop thinking about it... but other than that, it’s just a fun party.

Fjord doesn’t sleep much, he’s up early and pacing around the house until he decides he needs to try that again. Just once more. One more kiss. And maybe then... and, yes, she will leave, but maybe one more kiss wouldn’t be so terrible before that?

So Fjord runs. He runs over to her home, heart in his throat.

He knocks on the door, rushed and breathless... and finds Marion looking sad.

Jester got a call that very morning saying Artagan needed her ASAP back in LA because the gallery is apparently a mess and he needs her help to organize the big night.

Fjord does his best to cheer Marion up but he also knows, he knows, how upset Jester must have been to lose the last few days home.

Meanwhile, Jester is doing her best to help Artagan (after finding out her mentor might be an amazingly talented artist but a terrible event organizer) and basically runs herself thin, going crazy and barely sleeping for a couple days.

Two days before the big exhibit everything is still a mess and it’s too much for her to handle alone... and then the Nein arrive.

What are you doing here? What is going on? How are you here?

And they just shrug and smile and say they missed her and ‘hey, do you need a little help with that?’ and before she knows it everyone is helping her up and putting together everything that’d been falling apart.

Beau basically intimidates the catering service into actually delivering on time by reviewing their contract and finding how much money they could lose if they don’t. Yasha, turns out, has a fantastic eye for art and helps pick where and how each piece should be hanged. Veth goes nuts with the decoration, making it way fancier than anyone expected this little art show to be —she demands black tie for everyone who is coming, too. Caleb and Essek result amazing with lights and music and manage got connect the whole audio system by some sort of magical miracle because it hasn’t worked properly since the 8s. Caduceus and Fjord offer to serve drinks when the barman calls in sick.

In the end, after a few hectic days, it all works out.

Jester finds out from Beau that Fjord basically knocked on their doors as soon as he found out she had to come back and talked everyone into coming and drove all the way here in his cheap shitty Ball Eater car (it broke down halfway through and Fjord and Caleb had to fix it themselves which is also why it took them two whole days to get to LA).

The night of the gallery everything is perfect and beautiful and Jester could cry because she has the best friends in the world —but, really, she could cry because she’s missed them so much and having them here with her has made LA seem like a true city of stars again.

And so, she takes a moment in between smiling and shaking hands and posing for pictures with Artagan (who is sort of taking all the credit for their work but it’s alright because he’s already hooked her and two others up with a bunch of interested agents and it seems like he really just wants to help this small artists have their big break) and Jester steps outside to take some air.

Fjord follows.

And she starts to thank him, earnestly, for all his help and support and she has no idea how she could’ve done any of this without them —without him. She can’t believe he followed her all the way here (as if Fjord has done anything else since the day they met on their college’s induction day... he always follows her)

Fjord, a little coyly, says that he could pay her back by lending him a couch while he looks for a place... and that’s how Jester finds out Fjord’s moving to the city to try and pursue acting.

“Job hunting wasn’t going too well either, so I figured I might as well give my dreams a chance... I would also really like to be closer to you,” he admits, in a moment of boldness.

And Jester understands. Finally. She sees what she was too afraid of admitting to herself out of fear of heartbreak and disappointment.

“I can lend you a couch,” she smiles, playfully, “but it will cost you... a movie, maybe diner later”

And his eyes sparkle as he steps closer and says, “I think I can manage that” and he asks if he can kiss her, following a hunch, and she nods.

Just as everyone shouts HAPPY NEW YEAR inside the building.

THE END

ok that’s all, i cannot bring myself to actually write this multichapter, but I hope anyone who is still here after ALL THAT enjoyed the ride.

Happy holidays!!

#fjorester #fjord stone #jester lavorre #critical role #critter fic #fanfic #sofia's nonsense

162 notes · View notes

mvnvgedmischief · 3 years

Text

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter: 4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster.

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings.

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky, no one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place.

He didn’t have time to think about the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to put all of that out of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time.

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack.

“Sirius–”

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection.

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.”

“Remus was saying that some of the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked.

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?”

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he needed to start acting like it.

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground.

“Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–”

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded.

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future. We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.”

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned.

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation.

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite. Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time.

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can.

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change.

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.”

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus.

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad.

“No, I would suggest you start over.”

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior.

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

23 notes · View notes

yourfavoriteagent · 3 years

Text

Teacher Crush Pt 3

Chapter three is here! It gets a little steamyyyyyy

Professor!Spencer x Assistant!Reader

CW: NONE

Twenty-fucking-two. How could he have these feelings for a twenty-two-year-old? Spencer thought to himself as she enjoyed her latte and he took a sip from his excessively sweet coffee.

“So, Dr. Reid-“ She began.

“Please, call me Spencer, there’s no need for the whole Doctor thing.” He laughed and let her continue.

“Alright, Spencer,” She said tentatively, she was nervous around him, he could tell by how she avoided eye contact and played with the rings on her fingers. “So you’ve been with the BAU for 15 years, you must have seen a lot in that time, huh?”

“You have no idea, we have been on six cases a month at some points, the bad guys never really stop.” He said, her eyes were beautiful, she only looked him in the eye occasionally but when she did it was magic. She had the kind of eyes you could fall into if you weren’t careful enough, you could swim in and they would restore your youth, and Spencer was trying very hard not to fall.

“So, with the many cases, what’s the craziest thing you’ve seen?” She said, “If you don’t mind my asking,”

“Of course not,” This was a pretty common question he got, people were morbidly curious, but she didn’t seem like the morbid type at all. She looked at him with a curiosity that he couldn’t explain. “Let’s see, we’ve seen some pretty rough cases with kidnappings and child predators.” He saw her wince at the thought, okay, no children. “But the ones that always get me are the murders, you have no idea how many ways there are to kill someone.” He chuckled, trying to make the subject lighter.

“Wow, does it not get to you? I mean, I like hearing about this stuff, true crime documentaries and all that, but seeing it up close and personal, that must take a toll on you.” She said, she sounded a bit sad, he hoped he hadn’t upset her.

“It was hard at first but after a while, you learn to detach yourself from it all, so the stuff you see can’t affect you personally. It’s a hard step to take but it’s the only way to get through and save the people you need to save.” He tried to give her a reassuring smile, so she knew it wasn’t all bad. The conversation switched to a lighter topic when their food came, they discussed the upcoming classes, her goals at the school, why she had chosen his course to intern for. The time passed by quickly, it made him forget all the things that worried him, he allowed himself to indulge in the feelings for her, just for a moment. They finished their food quickly but he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to be back in that office where he was reminded of his responsibilities and guilt of being so infatuated with her. But his fantasy where he could have her had to end at some point, he had another class to teach in less than 3 hours and still needed to prep his lesson plan, so he paid the bill and grabbed his coat.

“You didn’t have to pay, let me pay you back!” She said and reached for her purse.

“Don’t even think about it,” He smiled at her, “It’s my treat.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much Dr. Re- Spencer.” She caught herself midway through her sentence. Her flustered face made a part of him light up, he felt relaxed by her smile, he felt something he couldn’t describe with her, something magical. They reached his car and began the short drive back to campus, the two of them talking the whole way there.

Y/N’s POV

The rest of the week went by smoothly, the two of them falling into a routine, he would give you a stack of papers to either proofread or edit in the morning, after his class you two got lunch, takeout sometimes you sat down and talked, then by 7pm you were saying your goodbyes. That was your least favorite part, you hated to say it but over the past week you had seriously begun to develop feelings for Spencer, to you he didn’t feel like a mentor or a professor, he felt like a friend, maybe more.

It was Friday night, you guys were staying late to prepare the test for Monday. He ordered Chinese food to be delivered to the office so they could at least have dinner while staying late.

“This question doesn’t make sense,” She said, breaking the concentrative silence between them.

“What do you mean?” He says and reaches out his hand to take the paper from you, your hands touch briefly and you feel a fire ignite inside you, you couldn’t tell if he felt the same way. Of course, he didn’t, why would he? He’s a professor and an FBI profiler, he has much better things to do with his time than think about you. You reacted your hand quickly, too quickly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend-“ He started.

But you interrupted “No no no! It’s not like that, I’m sorry.” You said and tried hiding your face behind your hair.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked, he liked genuinely concerned, how could you explain to him that you had a massive crush on him and touching him had made your stomach fill with butterflies?

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” You say, looking up at him, there was something in his eyes, at that moment you knew you could tell him anything. He was one of the most understanding and gentle people you’d ever met.”It’s just, I just- I like you and I’m sorry that's so unprofessional and if you want to fire me please do I understand.” You say and look right back down at your lap. You didn’t say that, right? You’ve somehow been drugged and lost your goddamn mind, right?

Spencer sat in stunned silence for a moment then got out of his chair. Oh god, at least you would open the door for you on your way out. You felt sick to your stomach. But instead of heading to the door, he came to the side of your chair. He knelt to the ground next to you. You slowly turn to look at him and he brushes the hair out of your face. You stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, or maybe a millennium, you couldn’t tell anymore. Then, his lips ever so slowly came up to meet yours. It was gentle, soft like he was scared if he pushed too hard he’d shatter you like glass. You kissed him back, letting his scent engulf you, surrendering yourself to every wonderful thought you had about him. Your hand reaches for his hair and you deepen the kiss, you suppose that was his cue because he then pushed the chair out from under you and grabbed you in his arms, never breaking the kiss. Your head was spinning and your heart was fluttering. He lifted you and set you down so you were sitting on the desk, his hand explored your hair, as your tongues clashed together, your kiss had gone from gentle to passionate and aggressive like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life. He held you like he never wanted to let you go, you held on to him the same. You could feel his soft moans on your lips, his teeth ever so gently biting them.

You separated for air for just a moment, he looked into your eyes and traced the curves of your jaw with his finger, “Is this okay?” He asks in a whisper.

“This is perfect.” You kiss him with a smile on your face, just then there is a knock on the door.

“Hello?” Someone from the other side calls.

You both freeze in place. Spencer clears his throat and says, “Yes?”

“I have a delivery. For, uh, Reid?”

Spencer sighed, you couldn’t tell if it was from relief or annoyance but you quickly flatten down your hair and sit back in your chair, Spencer opens to door and hands the man a fifty-dollar bill, grabs the bag, ad shuts the door once again.

He sets the bag down on the desk and asks, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to tell him how indescribably happy you were in that moment.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #fic

41 notes · View notes

starkexposition · 3 years

Text

The Bachelor: Tony Stark Edition

Forced myself against my will, at gunpoint, to update this. Here it finally is.

Chapter 2: Electric Boogaloo

Rating: Teen/Mature, it's from college!Peter Parker's perspective Pairings: Tony/Steve, Tony/Strange, Tony/literally everyone, Happy/May, Peter/MJ, Peter/Black Cat, many token ships eventually Summary: One man. Twelve contestants. Several weeks in paradise. All through the horrified eyes of one sticky, adopted son.

“Mr. Stark…”

Most people have normal dreams.

“Can you hear me?”

Nice ones.

“It’s Peter.”

Weird ones.

“Hey.”

Bad ones.

“We won.”

Ones you forget.

“Mr. Stark…”

Or in my case, ones you wish you’d forget.

“We won, Mr. Stark.”

They say when you dream about a person, it’s because they’re dreaming about you, too.

“We won—you did it, Mr. Stark. You did it.”

That never explained why I kept dreaming about him when he was gone.

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

It was never different. Never had a different ending—never even a nightmare. Just the same weak eyes followed by the same labored breaths, every single dream. And each time, the woman who believed in him most would sit with him, hand held to his heart, and promise to him that everything would be okay. And with that, the man who never sleeps would find the peace to finally rest.

There was nothing like it. I had already been through my fair share by then—whether it was the plane crash, or Uncle Ben, or the girl that I loved… Mr. Stark was different. There was no regret, or blame; it was only the mission. The worst part about it was struggling with the selfish feeling that something had been taken away from me, all while balancing the pride that I felt in what he did for the whole universe—and most importantly, for the family that was built around him.

To us, it was a sacrifice. To Iron Man, it was a responsibility.

I guess that must be the reason it kept replaying in my dreams. It didn’t need amending because of the good that it caused, but hell—it kept coming back like a nightmare.

Even after he came back, most sleeps would end the same way: with everyone around us taking a knee for him as the air grew quiet in his passing, Captain Rogers would rise to his feet, place a hand on my shoulder, and say through watered eyes and a weakened smile:

“It was all for you.”

And with Pepper’s blessing, Steve would step forward and pick Tony up from where he laid, carefully carrying him back as Pepper, Rhodey, and myself would slowly walk alongside them.

Some nights, if I got lucky, I’d wake up before Steve’s words.

But not last night.

My brain managed to string out every last excruciating detail of the dream it possibly could in an effort to stay asleep and ignore the sound of repulsors powering down to a low hum beside me. But as they hovered nearby, the stinky air of New York was blown through the ventilation of my suit, which, unfortunately, can be stinky enough to wake you when you become aware of it. A figure took the place of the city’s rising sun, casting a shadow that darkened the scene and gifted me with my daily post-dream reminder...

“You know if you prefer this for your room and board situation, I’d be happy to take up the bill.”

Tony Stark lives.

Which is great. Quality of life really did improve when he came back—for myself, and others, too. Being adopted by him, however, kind of spiced things up a bit. From mentor to parent meant that I was proving myself to him from a parental standpoint, and that consequently resulted in me becoming far more relaxed with him. ‘Cause he’s kind of stuck with me now, you know?

But even in times like this particular morning, when I had a curfew the night before and had to get back to the house upstate by a certain time and specifically did not do so in favor of fighting crime and flirting with a kleptomaniac in a leather suit, I still don’t think I couldn’t be grateful for that fact even when I am abruptly woken from my slumber on a rusty fire escape in New York by Iron Man.

There was always something about those slitted glowing eyes in the faceplate that managed to relay the disappointment behind it so well.

“How’d you find me?” I asked as I kicked my leg up onto the platform, letting my eyes settle on the ladders above.

“Same way I always find you—” Beep-beep, beep-beep! Karen pulled up a GPS screen in my lenses that pinpointed my location, with an additional flashing blip for where the Iron Man suit was just a few feet away. “Installed another tracking device in your suit.”

I pulled off my mask and sat up quickly. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he gestured to me, his tone dripping with annoyance. “I don’t have time to play hide-and-go-seek in the alleys and dumpsters of New York every time I need you.”

“I have a phone.”

“That you don’t answer.” Tony then tossed over my backpack that was webbed up on the dumpster below. “You know, you could be sleeping on a fire escape in Cambridge right now.”

“MIT doesn’t have MJ—” Oof. Too quick there, Pete. “Or-or Ned. Or May. Or… you?”

The face plate turned to stare at me with slitted eyes once again, Mr. Stark tilting his head. “I thought you broke up with MJ.”

Of course, he won’t ignore it.

“We broke up,” I corrected him, even though that was also technically wrong, but he definitely did not need to know that. “Besides, we’re fine. We’re friends.”

“When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“Last week,” I told him, pulling the mask over my face again.

Mr. Stark stayed silent, faceplate staring into my soul with those narrowed eyes as he waited for me.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, swinging down from the escape, “a month ago.”

I shot a web to the wall of the building across from us, and like that, we were en route home.

“Ouch.” Naturally, Mr. Stark’s voice came in through the suit itself while he traveled closely behind me. “That bad, huh?”

“Not really,” I lied. “And I mean, we did try the whole friend thing. That’s not gone. It’s just that… well, sometimes when you break up, it makes it a lot harder to stay broken up when you try to be friends right away, you know?”

“So…” He paused for a moment, as we turned a corner to Avengers Mansion. “You’re not friends?”

I landed on the walkway and pushed my way inside. “I stressed her out too much. I’m just giving her space.”

Mr. Stark’s suit was entirely gone by the time he followed me into the kitchen of the mansion. Making a beeline to the coffee, he raised an eyebrow at me as he pulled the pot and two mugs for the both of us, fixing mine up with sugar before he poured. “That must be easy for you at least.”

“Never said it was.” I informed him as I rummaged around the refrigerator for something, anything with sustenance… Bingo. Pizza. The only consistency that truly exists within the Avengers is the ability to almost always find leftover pizza in the fridge. “But is that stuff ever really easy?”

“Well…” Tony’s voice raised suggestively as he circled around the counter and took a sip of his coffee. “It sure seems like it is now that you’ve got yourself a feline to keep you company.”

I came to a halt, cold pizza at my lips. “Seriously? I’m not talking about this with you.”

Tony cackled, sipping his coffee as he slipped from the kitchen to the elevator, finger pressed on the ‘open door’ button as he waited for me to gather my pizza and coffee to join him. Moments later, we were entering his workshop, which was remarkably as cluttered as I had seen it last. He walked through slowly, moving papers and hardware around to organize the place and put away his projects reluctantly, and each time he seemed lost in thought, staring at some weird looking, half-dismantled device, he would take a sip from his coffee before making his decision on what to do with whatever it was he was holding.

“All packed?” He asked as he pulled the mug from his lips, tossing something into the trash.

I gripped the mask in my hands and turned away from him to face one of the blueprints on the wall, pretending to read it. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good,” he said. He stopped at the door to his office and looked at me with expectant eyes. “Well? Get dressed so we can go home.”

Before I could even turn away, the door to his office was shut behind him, the blue glow of his holograms flashing through the opaque glass of his office doors and windows. Whatever it was he was working on must not have required too much attention, as he was waiting impatiently for me by his car in the mansion’s garage only a few minutes later, toes tapping the ground while he leaned against the hideously orange supercar.

“Really?” I asked. “This one again?”

His eyes perked up over the rim of his glasses, eyebrows shooting up in offense. “Would you rather walk?”

I shook my head and walked over to the passengers side with Mr. Stark moving out of the way to the driver’s door. “I just think—” I got in, stuffing my bag by my feet, “—you could spice it up sometime. Maybe you could go red next. Or a matte black… now, that’d be nice. All electric, so smooth. Stealthy. It’d be great.”

Tony sat beside me, buckling his belt as he looked at me in disbelief again, “I’m sorry, can you even drive?”

I stared at him and waited for him to realize, but he just stared back. “I’m 19,” I reminded him.

“And?” He said as he started the car and drove closer to the garage door, allowing it to open automatically at his approach. “You never drive anywhere.”

His gaze looked past me then, encouraging mine to follow, and we both looked at the gray Audi that sat on the far right end of the mansion’s garage collecting dust. I looked back at Tony, ready to defend myself and my apparent preference for swinging as my primary mode of travel, but he just grinned and floored it, pulling us away from the mansion, the city, and to upstate New York.

* * *

Saturday nights at the Stark Residence meant one thing: family dinner. It wasn’t required, obviously, since most weekends I couldn’t make it home, and even if I could, I usually chose to not to, as I was 19, in college, had homework, Ned, and was constantly in an internalized battle of wanting to win my ex-girlfriend back and my unexplained desire to spend an unusual amount of time around one of my more recent torments in life:

Felicia Hardy.

And if I’m honest, I’ve probably spent more of my Saturday nights playing cat and mouse with Felicia than I have been doing homework or playing games with Ned. Only thing is, lately it has seemed more like she’s the cat and I’m the mouse—appropriate, since she is the Black Cat and all—despite that I have almost always been in pursuit of her. But my naivety always manages to lead me into falling for her traps and doing whatever it might be that she had planned for me—which, of course, almost always results in me failing to “catch” her.

What a shame.

Of course, that does exclude all of those nights where I did catch up to her. On the rooftops, quips and riddles, jabs and flirts, and the few times I got lucky enough for her to lift my mask up just enough to leave a…

How did I get started on Felicia again?

Right. Family dinners. Instead of seeing her. Just a prelude to the next few months. Did I even remember to say goodbye?

Sigh.

Anyway. Family dinners.

The only night of the week we managed to get (mostly) everyone together. Between Stark Industries and some Avengers work for Tony (remotely, of course, since the man really can’t help himself), Morgan in school and clubs, the vast Morgan Babysitting Unit (Rhodey, Maria Hill, Aunt May, and Happy mostly) trading off the rascal throughout the week, and of course, whatever Happy and May got up to in their free time (don’t remind me), Saturdays were usually the one time in the week that everyone tried their best to set aside for visiting with each other. You know, for Tony’s sake. While the ladies, including Tony’s new personal assistant, Charlotte, would split a bottle of wine as Happy and May cooked the meal together—Italiano, as they introduced it this particular time—the rest would buzz around the house, catching up on the week’s events and sharing laughs like a normal family would.

Normal.

Of course, with it being my first time home for dinner in a few months, most of the attention was on me during the meal—as Mr. Stark cleverly directed it to be, in an effort to avoid talking about the obvious circus that was set to begin the following day—with Rhodey and Maria mainly prying at me for school and hero related questions, but they were sure to cover every topic in the book, like the one I was hoping to avoid.

Girls.

Or, more specifically, MJ.

It took me going from my typical sarcasm to getting quiet and frustrated when the questions persisted for the conversation to finally fizzle out, bringing our dinner party to an end. Rhodey stood up from his seat beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing it in understanding, as he grabbed his plate to leave. Everyone, apart from myself and May, began to disperse with him, heading to the kitchen with their empty plates.

I lifted a rogue spaghetti noodle above my face and caught it in my mouth between my tongue and teeth as Aunt May poured herself another glass of wine. She looked up at me as I practically inhaled the noodle, eyes slimming into an unamused look as she stared at me over the rim of her glass.

“This is our last dinner together for a while and you’re not even gonna use your manners?” She tilted her head, hair sliding down from her shoulder.

I made a face and shook my head, reaching for the spoon in the pan. “Not when it’s spaghetti night,” I shrugged in refusal, dumping a small second serving on my plate.

May eventually followed in suit, her eyes nervously checking up on me again and again. With a breath and returned eye contact, I braced myself for the inevitable questions—

“You’re all packed?”

“Yes.”

“Have your passport?”

“Yes.”

Her face fell and she leaned forward, brows furrowing in worry. “… Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course not,” I said. “It was my idea to begin with.”

She lowered her voice. “I mean for Tony.”

“Well, why not?”

Aunt May stared at me for a couple seconds, noodles sliding off her fork back onto the plate. “I don’t know, he just… you know, this is a lot of publicity for someone who, you know… was dead—”

“—in a coma—”

“—less than a year ago,” May let out a sigh, her shoulders sinking. “Do you have to get technical with me?”

I set my fork down and sat back in my seat, biting my lip in frustration. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Tony’s been back for, what? Seven months?” She crossed her arms.

“Publicly, yes, and it’s not like he really kept it much of a secret before that, anyway,” I said, crossing my arms back. “He’s been alive for almost two years. A lot can happen in two years. A person can grow.”

She let out another sigh of concern. “And you don’t think all of this is too much for him?”

“He’s two years old. Of course not,” I said, dropping another noodle into my mouth. “I was ready for that kind of attention when I was his age.”

“Peter…”

“Wasn’t I?”

“Peter.”

“Listen,” I sighed, “he agreed to it at his own risk. Besides, no matter what he does, publicity will follow. He knew this ahead of time. That’s why he waited until his rehab was over—he wanted to be ready. And if he says he’s ready…”

Her eyes looked over her glasses’ frames at me. “We both know he’s not ready.”

“You know, this might actually be good for him,” I offered. “A good way for him to kinda get back in it, you know? It’s like a nice, long vacation with a bunch of pretty people gawking over him. I honestly don’t see the problem with it.”

“A bunch of pretty people trying to use him for his money, maybe,” she started picking at her food again.

“That’s the life he always used to live, May. Which is why I think it could be good for him. Might teach him to have fun again—you know, center him,” I sat up in my chair again, picking up my fork and stuffing my face with more noodles. “Plus,” I said through chewing, “it’s good promotion.”

“Promotion for what?”

“I don’t know, really,” I swallowed my food at her look of distaste. “Something to do with clean something something. Something for the planet. Or something. He was talking about it with those fancy people from the network out at dinner the other night.”

“And you didn’t listen?”

I wound up more pasta and took another bite. “No, why would I?”

Aunt May stopped her movements and stared at me for a moment before continuing to scoop up the noodles. “Are you sure there’s nothing else you’re gonna need for the trip?”

“Positive,” I smiled.

“Alright,” she let out a sigh, “if you say so.”

I smirked a bit, and took another bite full. “Are you sure you’re gonna make it that long without me?”

She took a small piece of a noodle from her plate and chucked it at me. “Zip it, you. I’ll be fine.”

I peeled the noodle from my cheek and looked at it. “Man, Aunt May… Nice aim—” And with that, I launched the noodle back at her.

By the time Morgan and I had finished clean up duty, with me washing the dishes and her wiping down the table with a cloth I gave her, the adults had migrated to the lounge with another bottle of wine, loud chatter and laughter filling up the air around them. Tony was off with Charlotte, going over a checklist with her to ensure that he had everything he needed for the trip before our departure in the morning. I stopped Morgan before she headed upstairs, holding a finger to my lip to keep her quiet as I pulled the freezer door open for her, and before we knew it, we were sneaking upstairs to our rooms with a popsicle in Morgan’s hand and snacks in my own.

The crinkling noise a bag of potato chips makes as you open it is one of the most satisfying noises in the world. Especially in the safety of your own home—unabashedly opening up a new bag without holding back to muffle any sounds. Just that sweet, sweet tearing noise as the smell of greased up, salty potatoes fills your nostrils and momentarily takes the place of that super sweet tub of Ben & Jerry’s beside you. One plus about upgrading to a king sized bed is finally having the room to keep your food beside you as you lie there—it’s a great way to be lonely without entirely feeling lonely. For the most part. Except when you remember that you’re eating an whole pint of ice cream entirely by yourself, because that’s when it starts to hit you that you’re actually, seriously doing this and you really shouldn’t be—

“Really, Pete?”

I looked up from my snacks as I pulled out an earbud, my eyes meeting the unamused eyes of my father. “What?” I asked.

He closed the door behind himself as he walked closer, crossing his arms. “We just picked those up for the flight tomorrow and you’re already eating them?”

“I was hungry,” I told him before grabbing another chip.

“You’re supposed to be getting everything ready,” he grumbled.

“I am,” I said, pointing the chip towards the half-zipped suitcase on the floor, with shirt sleeves and socks and pants sticking out the sides… Well. I tried. “Over there.”

His gaze followed my potato chip to the suitcase and he walked over to it, opening it up to see the jumbled mess of clothes that I neatly tossed into the suitcase from my closet—which, mind you, was already half packed from the last field trip we took in school a month ago. Clever, I know. I mean, half of the clothes were dirty anyway, and a lot of them I just grabbed from my floor… so really, most of them were at least a smidgen dirty. Probably, like, 90% of them were dirty. But none of that really mattered, you see, because we are staying in an actual house while we’re there, and real houses always have washers and dryers, right?

Right?

That didn’t quite matter any longer either, as my father’s eyes fell into that absolutely terrifying “disappointed” look that I was unfortunately seeing a lot of as of late. But just as he went to close it, his eyes widened at the sight of something else and he knelt down to tug on a piece of cloth.

A red piece of cloth. And blue. And black. That turned out to be more than just a piece of cloth. And that was suddenly being dangled in my face for a split second before it was folded over my father’s arm.

“No suit,” his stern voice rang through the room as he turned back towards the door.

My eyes widened as I jumped from my bed, almost knocking over my ice cream, and I followed him out. “What do you mean ‘no suit’? I can’t just go away for that long without it—”

He opened the door, looking back at me. “And is that seriously how you’re taking care of this thing?” He pushed through, lifting the suit to his nose. “God, Pete, it smells…”

“Dad,” I pleaded, “I can’t leave without it.”

“Seriously. When’s the last time you sent Hap to get this thing dry-cleaned?” He turned back to look in my room, pointing at the suitcase as the door swung shut. “By the way, pal, one half-assed packing job isn’t gonna cut it. We’ll be gone the whole summer. Pack accordingly.”

I stopped in the hall as he continued up it with the suit still slung around his arm. “Dad, please,” I begged.

He began walking backwards, a smirk plastered to his lips. “No can do, kiddo,” he said. “You’re not supposed to work while you’re on vacation.”

And with that, he was gone, spending the rest of his evening with the usual entourage before they headed out to Happy’s place for the night.

I didn’t notice myself falling asleep. I wasn’t planning on it either—I don’t think I ever even rested my head for a second. But there I was; it was one o’clock, N64 fan roaring, half-eaten pint of ice cream melting accompanied by an opened bag of potato chips, and I had fallen asleep, controller still in hand. I peeled myself out of bed slowly, grabbing the snacks and heading downstairs to put them away in their respective places. As I was sealing away the tub of ice cream in the freezer, I noticed the door to the workshop downstairs slightly propped open, a faint glow coming from it and the distant voice of FRIDAY.

Curiosity killed the cat, right? Wish me luck.

Ever-so-thankful for my powers, I creaked the door open quietly and jumped up to the ceiling, slowly crawling down the spiral staircase until I finally reached the workshop. Everything was dark and put away apart from the desk, where Tony sat in his rolling chair, staring up at the blue holograms projected around him.

As though his breath had been hitched in his lungs for a long while, Tony let out a sharp sigh as he let go of his frozen stature, leaning forward in his seat. “Alright FRIDAY,” he pulled a pen from his desk and started scribbling on a piece of paper, “run the scans.”

“Certainly, boss,” FRIDAY said, and the holograms began pulling up hundreds, thousands—hell, even millions of files of footage. “Scanning all known devices now.”

Tony sat back in his seat again, jaw clenched in fear as hopeful eyes watched the projections around him. A sigh escaped his lips as he watched FRIDAY sort through the files, hurt filling the contortions of his face and… That’s when I noticed him.

How had I missed him?

“Come on,” Tony prayed, his eyes daring to well up into tears. “Come on, Cap.”

As files were sorted, discarded or scanned again and again, the screen running through images and clips so fast it hardly even flashed with the changes, the files were compared to an image presented to the right of them, none of them matching up with with the familiar head of blond hair that was almost damn near waiting for a match.

Years later, and Tony Stark was still searching for Steve Rogers.

I guess it sort of came as a surprise to me. He didn’t talk about Cap very often. If he did, it was usually short lived—it was never really something he chose to dwell on. And anytime someone tried to bring him up, he never spoke of their time together like it had the weight that I knew it did—like they were just some old buddies back in the day, and that was it. With everything going on in his life, I guess I just assumed he was a bit forced to move on from it.

Then again, when Tony came back—which, mind you, will forever be the most shocking moment of my entire life—one of the first things he asked about was Steve. Just to know if where he was… if he was okay. I was the one who told him he was gone, that he had brought the stones home, and was never to return.

He gave me a small nod when I told him, eyes drifting away from me, as he forced out a quiet, “okay, then.”

And that was it. That was all he ever asked about him. After he quickly regained his composure, Pepper ushered him away to get him some nourishment until they both finally decided it was time to wake Morgan up to see him again after seven long months apart.

I always wondered if Captain Rogers would have stayed if he knew Tony was coming back.

I guess that was part of the tragedy, wasn’t it? How could anyone have known that by some miracle he would come back? I hadn’t, Pepper hadn’t, nor did Rhodey, or Morgan, or Happy. There was no way Captain Rogers would have predicted that, either. He, like the rest of us, altered his life accordingly.

But if he got the chance to see what I was seeing, would he come back?

“I’m sorry, boss,” FRIDAY said solemnly. “The scans were unsuccessful.”

I suppose we’d never know.

Tony sat still, defeat stealing whatever energy he had left in him, as he tried desperately to understand the holograms before him. He stared for what felt like ages, breathing through the frown on his lips, swallowing back his guts here and there whenever he needed it. Finally, his eyelashes fluttered as he looked away from what was before him, energy joining him once again to neaten his paperwork. “Well, then,” he forced out, “let’s wrap it up for a while, shall we?”

He stood from his desk, picking up a mug of cold coffee and bringing it to his lips as he turned and started walking away, papers still in hand. He walked to a cabinet, dropping the papers into a file as he slowly lowered the mug, swallowing back his thoughts with his coffee.

“Would you like me to keep an open scan going while you’re gone?” FRIDAY inquired.

Tony’s eyes broke from wherever they had drifted, running in my direction on their way to look at the hologram—

Uh oh.

I managed to scurry back right as his head stopped its movement, hiding out of sight before his eyes flickered back over in my direction.

“Yeah,” he agreed. Footsteps. “Let me know if you find anything on your radar.”

Goose bumps. Skin tingling. Danger. Danger. Danger. I don’t think I’ve ever crawled on a ceiling faster than I did, barely making it to the door in time to leave it cracked where it was before he noticed it. It was faster to go out through the porch and up through my window than it was to run through that maze of a house, and I still only made it just in time to get under the covers before my father cracked open my door to check if I was sleeping. The pixelated N64 screen and controller by my hand was seemingly convincing enough, as he turned out the rest of my lights and left me to sleep.

* * *

To be honest, I wasn’t the most excited person when I realized that being adopted by Tony Stark also meant moving off to some cabin in the deep woods of upstate New York. The whole farm life thing never exactly appealed to me the way it did others, I guess. I was perfectly fine with living just a block away from my favorite hoagie joint, a couple blocks down from my best friend, the same part of town as the girl I sorely wanted back, and you know, the same city as the college that I attended daily. The drives back and forth from campus whenever I actually did make my way home only started to get better when I was actually doing them on my own, but they were still painfully long when Ned wasn’t able to join me for a weekend. And when your only entertainment for an entire weekend (or even week) is a six-year-old who is particularly obsessed with outsmarting you, Happy Hogan, and a video game that you somehow manage to fall asleep to while playing pretty much every night as of late, life can get pretty lonely up in the boonies.

Still, there was something to be said about waking up surrounded by nature instead of the city.

You’d be surprised as to just how calming it is for the morning sun’s glow to slowly enter your room, birds chirping in the trees outside your windows, wind chimes twinkling as a soothing voice peacefully rings throughout the four walls of your room…

“Everybody was kung fu fighting—” I don’t think I could have slapped my alarm any faster.

I attempted at covering my head with a pillow to block out the light, but the disturbance of voices downstairs disrupted my Sunday morning a bit early again—although this time, the voices seemed to amount to more of a crowd.

Great.

“Peter, your father will be arriving at your door in fifteen seconds,” Karen warned, lights brightening in my room as I hopped from my bed, placing in my earbuds. Like clockwork, the door creaked open as I paced my room in an effort to make myself seem busy.

“Pete.”

I pulled an earbud from my ear and glanced up at my father before heading to my closet. “You know, you should try knocking sometime.”

Mr. Stark trailed into my room behind me nonchalantly, looking around at the mess spread across the room as he picked up notebooks from my bed and placed them on my desk. “You say that like your alarm didn’t go off two minutes ago.”

“So?” I picked up the notebooks and moved them to my pile of schoolwork. “You never know—I could have been changing.”

He stopped in his tracks, his gaze tracing up to mine with a single eyebrow cocked up in disbelief. “Really?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but pajamas before two on a weekend.” He forced back a smile. “Besides, my point stands, you weren’t doing anything embarrassing. Which, by the way—”

“—that’s not my point—”

“—what exactly was it that you were doing?” He turned on his heel, looking around my room. “And what is that smell? Garbage? Gym clothes? Dirty sheets?”

“Dad.”

“When’s the last time you changed your sheets?”

“Dad.”

“Can we get some windows open in here?”

“Of course,” Karen complied, the panel windows rotating open on command, the sound of the leaves following the breeze that filled the room.

“Much better,” he exhaled.

I collapsed on my bed again, then, placing the earbud back in my ear. “Do you always have to act like something died in here when you enter my room completely uninvited?”

“I’m saving your skin, you know. May is downstairs and if she smelled whatever’s going on in here, you’d have a much bigger problem on your hands.”

I jolted up in horror. “May? What is May still doing here—”

“I invited her,” he stated simply. “For Happy’s sake. Surprise.”

I scowled. “Don’t encourage them.”

“Which reminds me, where are your bags?”

“Bags?” My eyes then drifted to the very same suitcase from the night prior, just as untouched, half-full, and dirty as it was the last time my father told me to work on packing it.

My father followed my sight and immediately let out a sigh, his back to me, and I just knew the face that he was about to hit me with before he even managed to turn around. And then he did.

Here we go.

The look of unsurprised disbelief with a flavor of sheer, utter annoyance as his eyes rolled up to the ceiling.

Personally, this was my favorite look of disappointment from him. His “shocked” face that I always seem to get whenever I prove time and time again that he really should stop having any sort of faith in me being able to do anything that is not Avenger, homework, or video game. I mean, it’s only fair. To the both of us, really.

He finished his eye roll, those disappointed eyes falling to mine before he finally headed to the door. “Get dressed and be down in five. Say hi to the crew quickly and then please finish packing. We can’t be late for this.”

“We’re leaving today?”

“Seriously?” He was out the door in seconds, calling back, “How on earth are you more like me than I am like me these days?”

I jumped from my bed and grabbed a t-shirt that was folded on the top of my dresser, pulling it over my head as followed Mr. Stark down the hall, door clicking shut behind me. “How long until we leave?” I asked, catching up to him on the stairs.

“Around an hour.” He muttered, head tilting towards mine. “You definitely did not get dressed that quickly.”

“I’m not going in there alone,” I told him.

He halted about half-way down, looking me up and down in my sweatpants and Midtown gym shirt. His lips flattened into a line, the look of annoyance returning to his face. He then unbuttoned his suit jacket, turned, and shrugged. “Fine.” And as we finished our trek down the stairs, he expanded his arms grandly, cleared his throat, and projected an embarrassingly loud, “Everyone—Peter has finally decided to join us!”

Every pair of eyes in the room fell to mine.

… I brought this upon myself.

It was barely seconds before the only person from ABC that I actually recognized managed to catch my attention—and yes, there was, once again, a gray hair sitting intrusively on the blazer.

“Peter!” She exclaimed, peeling her way through the group to shake my hand. “Are you excited for the next few months?”

“Sure,” I offered, my eyes drifting from hers in search of Aunt May. I looked back at her, squinting a bit as I studied her face. “I’m sorry, I’m forgetting your name.”

“Nellie Freeman,” she reminded me. “I’m one of the producers for The Bachelor.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded my head. The whole bullshitting portion of this thing was already wearing on me, and I was only about… a sentence and a half into it. And it was obvious, as a rather awkward look of concern started to form on her face. “Look, I’m going to be honest with you, Ms. Freeman,” I sighed, slouching a bit. “I just rolled out of bed. I really just came down here for food before I get ready to leave.”

Nellie nodded then, stepping aside. “You should probably focus on that, Peter. And please, call me Nellie.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll find the chance to talk later, alright?” She said, clutching her mimosa close to her hair-intruding blazer.

I nodded, turning to make my way to the kitchen. “Okay, Ms. Freeman.”

And with that, I was free, and doing one of my favorite past times: rummaging the refrigerator for food. And as I rolled out each and every tray, drawer, compartment, searching high and low for just a little bit of cream cheese, I felt a very gentle tug at the hem of my shirt. I paused, raising my eyebrows to look down at the very soft, yet expectant face of a six-year-old, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Hi,” she said.

“Good Morgan,” I greeted her, stifling a laugh as she let out her usual giggle. “Staying out of trouble so far?”

“I need your help,” she said. She then waved for me to get close, so I did, crouching down and offering my ear to her. She cupped her hands, leaning close to whisper. “Can I have some of your root beer?” She asked, pulling back with an innocent look on her face.

“Maguna,” I sighed, turning towards her totally. “You do realize it’s still morning, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“And that our father is right on the other side of that wall?”

She nodded again. “Yes.”

I raised my eyebrows again, pointing in the direction of our living room. “And that if he catches me giving you root beer at seven in the morning without asking his permission, he’ll get very mad at me?”

“Yes,” she said, this time with a single, big nod.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” I told her, standing up and pulling a bottle of root beer from the fridge, “not sure if it’s worth the punishment.”

She tapped my arm this time, tugging at my shirt afterwards. “Please?”

“Hmm,” I looked between my sister and the bottle of root beer in my hands. “Are you ready to leave yet?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I set the bottle on the counter, along with the bagels and cream cheese, closing the fridge and crouching back down to meet her height. “Go on up to my room, then. I’ll bring some up to you when I finish getting my breakfast and you can play Mario Kart while I pack.”

And for the last hour that we spent in our home for the time being, my sister and I kept sanctuary up in my room, with Morgan sprawled out on my bed, trying to make sense of an N64 controller as I coached her on how to take out Bowser as revenge for his ruthless attack on her Luigi. My bags were carelessly tossed together in a matter of minutes, suit staying tucked away underneath heaps of clothes, and my Playstation carefully wrapped (and hidden) in clothes in my second suitcase, zipped away until further notice. I had bravely ventured downstairs to grab the next round of root beers, and the two of us were able to stay far away from any parental units paroling the household for the remainder of the hour—shocking, since Morgan’s got quite the big mouth when it comes to video games.

Packing the vans for our departure to the airport wasn’t chaotic until the rest of the black-blazer-with-a-stray-strand-of-gray-hair-obtrusively-standing-out-and-distracting-me-once-again people from ABC arrived. It went from packing up the car for a nice family vacation to me pretty much being sent up to my room to pack yet another whole bag with all of the items on their list of things that I had to bring for my “wardrobe” that I didn’t know were “required” for my nice, lovely, family vacation. And then came the labeling of each and every bag—which, of course, followed their security check of each and every bag.

That’s right. They brought security for us.

I know.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the ridiculousness of checking Iron Man for safety threats was the tipping point of my sanity, so by about eight o’clock, I was lying in the middle of the driveway and tossing a rock up into the cloudy sky. At some point, Mr. Stark’s hand suddenly reached out and caught it and he looked down at me with a tired smile.

“You ready?”

I raised my eyebrows and caught the rock as my father dropped it. “Did my background check already make it in?”

“Funny,” he rolled his eyes as he reached down to grab my hand, pulling me up. “You should be praying that they don’t find it.”

“What do you mean?” I laughed, picking my backpack up from the curb as I followed him up the driveway to the big, black, spy-like SUVs. “Peter Parker is as threatening as Happy when he falls asleep on the couch after Thanksgiving dinner.”

His hand rested on my back as he guided me to an open door in one of the SUVs. “Have you read your high school disciplinary record?”

“No. That’s your job,” I grinned at him as I climbed in and slid to the end, grabbing the buckle.

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark’s eyes widened at the thought as he got in his seat beside me. “And your poor Aunt May’s.”

“Well, she knows about the whole… you know… Spidey thing, now, so it’s fine,” I said, shrugging. “I’m sure it explains a lot.”

Happy’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “Wait until you can’t use that excuse this summer.”

My jaw fell only slightly as I let out a chuckle. “No, no—not an excuse. I won’t need it, anyway. No suit, no hero antics, no need for doing anything absolutely stupid.”

Happy’s eyes looked up again in the mirror as he stopped at the end of our driveway. “The suit isn’t what causes you to be stupid.”

And with another small, Pikachu gasp escaping my lips and laughter bellowing from Aunt May and the man beside me, the window rolled up slowly, separating him and May from myself, Morgan, and our dad for the rest of the ride to the city.

The car ride inbound was far more easy-going than the last long one we had heading outbound, on our way home from my grand, very belated ‘adoption party’, where this whole Bachelor thingy began. I was silent, overwhelmed, sort of regretting the amount of root beer that I had consumed.

I think, like, five glasses, maybe? Full glasses, too. Like the big ones, not the little scotch glasses. All five, sitting in my stomach over every pothole and rock we ran over.

“Come to think of it, Pete, I didn’t really see you much tonight. Was it the nerves? Too many people?”

I nodded assuringly. “Too many people. Definitely.”

He eyed me in suspicion and then let out a sigh. “Listen, Pete. Don’t let this whole… moving into a multi-billionaire’s million dollar lakeside New York mansion thing scare you into thinking you have to respect me any better.”

“I think,” I narrowed my eyes as I stared at him in confusion, “I think just saying that… does?”

“What I’m trying to say is now that I’m officially your father and you’re officially my son, that weird, politeness type of respect isn’t necessary anymore,” he went on, looking forward at the street as Happy drove their car back to their home. “If anything, you should respect me less.”

“I feel like this is a test,” I told him.

“It is and it isn’t,” he grinned to himself. “Just be a normal kid, alright? No more Mr. Starks, no more asking permission for every single little thing. Just ask permission sometimes, when it’s necessary. And don’t call me ‘dad’ while wearing your suit. That’s when you call me ‘Mr. Stark’. Got it?”

And that was it. I’ll be honest, the whole transition from “Mr. Stark” to “Dad” hasn’t exactly been easy, but I think I’ve got it down.

For the most part.

Happy took a sharp turn then, breaking my thoughts as we went off of our course to the airport. “Sorry,” he shouted from the front seat.

“Mr. Stark…?” I muttered, staring out the windows in confusion. I looked at him and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. I realized my mistake but refused to correct it, staring back at him with my own eyebrows raised expectantly as the SUV pulled to a stop in front of the mansion, film crews piling out of one of the vans ahead. “What’s going on?”

“Showtime—” was all he said, before jumping out of the vehicle and heading over to the makeup artists, who, of course, swarmed him.

It was going to be a long summer. And it was only April.

The beauty of college was that the summer typically began in May, anyway, and with some teeth-pulling trips home away from the hyperactive, crime-filled city, I was able to set aside blocks of time to get my work done early in an effort to finish my semester earlier than most. I must say—midterms and finals all within two weeks of each other were not exactly the highlight of my college career so far, but finishing the semester by the start of April in exchange for an extended summer was pretty worth it.

Apart from the makeup brushes that were suddenly advancing on my face.

“Wait—” I held up my hands in defense, waving the brushes away. “No, no—not me, not my thing. I’m fine with—you know,” I gestured toward my face, “this.”

“It’s for lighting,” one of the artists argued.

“And that,” I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, “is what editing is for. Tell Ms. Freeman I said that.”

Like clockwork, Nellie Freeman ran towards me, calling my name. “Peter!” She said, excitedly, “Go on over to your father. Share a laugh with him.”

Share a laugh?

I was guided over to where he was and before I knew it, cameras were pointed at us in all directions as Mr. Stark put an arm around me and looked at me to chat, pointing to me. “Are you ready?” He asked, charming smile flashing on his face.

“No,” I said, forcing a smile, trying hard not to look at the camera. “How long do I have to do this?”

“Entire summer,” his smile grew proud.

My face fell.

“Remember, this was all your idea,” he let out a laugh then, and it was apparently enough to satisfy the cameras.

Worst moment of my life.

So far.

As a small part of the crew followed me around the front of the mansion—which, I had inferred was for their introduction to the show, as they were filming numerous angles of the mansion itself, as well as our family by the gates out front, and even a small moment of Tony driving out of the garage in yet another hideously orange supercar—the sound of a small explosion a couple blocks over rumbled through the streets. Myself and the camera people with me, who happened to be closest to the noise, all turned in fear as cop cars zipped up the street towards whatever it was.

My heart pounded a bit as the adrenaline came through my body with my senses and I looked at the crew urgently, “You should probably go distract Iron Man before you lose camera time with him.”

They took my advice.

Barely a minute later, I was in my suit, swinging through the streets of New York City.

Standard bank robbery: getaway car at the corner of the block waiting in drive, hold up in the lobby of the bank, gunmen standing guard outside, and my favorite—two pyromaniacs blowing a hole in the alleyway wall to gain outside access to the vault.

Minutes later, the vault guys were webbed to the brick walls of the alley, the gunmen were knocked out and webbed up, the two guys holding up inside were webbed together in a nice, snug hug, and the getaway car was stopped mid movement by me mere seconds after I had webbed up its passengers to street lights in their escape.

A standard day in New York City for Spider-Man.

Man, I was going to miss it. Genuinely. It was a hobby as much as it was a passion and a responsibility. It had its perks, of course, but swinging through the city, stopping to fight whatever crime was impending, and then getting back into the air moments later just to return to whatever I was doing, or like in many cases, to the backpack I webbed up to a dumpster in an alleyway a block away from the mansion. I undressed from my suit as quickly as possible and got back in the clothes I was wearing before, stuffing the suit into my backpack—

Spider sense. Spider sense. Behind you, Peter—Peter. Peter. Peter.

I turned quickly to see an old bearded man standing at the end of the alleyway by the sidewalk, staring at me as I stuffed the spider suit into my backpack.

I felt my cheeks burning red as the man just watched. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” I smiled nervously. “I just found it in the dumpster. It’s probably—it’s probably not even real.”

The old man let out a chuckle, approaching me slowly. “It’s okay, Peter,” he said with a smile. “You don’t need to worry.”

I froze in that moment, movements halted as I registered the voice and the way it said my name—yes. My name.

My name?

“How did you…” I trailed off as the main presented a large pouch to me, reluctantly taking it from him. I stared at the pouch and then up to those old, tired, glistening eyes. “Are you one of the wizards?”

“No,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You might wanna grab a lab kit for that before you leave, by the way.”

And that was how my Breaking Bad career took off.

Kidding. Sort of. Hopefully. All that was in the bag from what I could tell was some old rusty gear and tech and a few pieces of paper to accompany the items. I looked up from the bag and back at the old man, who just watched with a pair of what seemed to be proud eyes.

I stared at him for a moment, trying to make sense of the familiarity in his eyes. “Who are you?”

The man’s face fell slightly for a moment and he placed a hand on my shoulder, dipping his head down a bit as he blinked slowly, lips curling into a smile once again. “You’ll see.”

The sound of repulsors taking off echoed through the streets, followed by the sound of flight, and both myself and the old man turned in its direction, looking up to the sky as Iron Man appeared over the rooftop.

He hovered there for a moment, silence dripping between us for a split second, before he finally let out a confused, “Pete?”

I widened my eyes. “I can explain,” I started, stepping towards him, “You see, I was helping this nice gentleman over here and—”

He flew passed me to where the man was, but as I turned around with him, the old man was gone.

Tony landed in his place, stepping towards the sidewalk slowly and looking around. “It doesn’t make sense…”

Okay, Peter. Time to be honest. I took a deep breath, “Well, to be honest, there was an explosion up the block, and it turned out to be a huge bank robbery, so I kind of had to step in and—”

“I said no suit.” He stated bluntly, but he was still distracted by our surroundings.

“I know. It’s just—it’s hard,” I confessed. “I’m sorry.”

Tony was silent in response; he was evidently listening to Friday as opposed to me, focusing in on whatever it was they were examining in the alleyway. Moments passed in silence, before he finally let out a sigh, “Alright, let’s go. We have a flight to catch.”

He lifted me from the ground, returning us to our group at the mansion a couple blocks over, cameras and all. The obligatory clips of the Iron Man suit removing itself from Tony that ABC insisted on filming bought me enough time to sneak into the mansion and snag one of the lab kits we had set aside for missions. I was able to slip it into the SUV by the time Tony finished with his numerous close-ups with the film crew.

The remainder of our morning once we actually arrived at the airport was just that. Cameras, interviews, weird filmed moments where we all chatted about absolutely nothing in an effort to seem like we were actually engaging in real conversations—then pause, break, and we were back to loading Mr. Stark’s private jets.

Yes. Jets. As in plural.

Because we weren’t going to fly with the ABC people, right? They had to be there waiting for us upon our arrival anyway.

Eyeroll.

It was only about eleven in the morning by the time we took off, but it felt like the day had been going on for hours already. The jet we were on, which was Mr. Stark’s newest of his hybrid engine class, had quarters for him, myself, and Morgan in the back, which were separated by the full bathrooms in between. It wasn’t long before I had passed out on my bed, the shades closing on the windows to leave me in a nice, quiet slumber…

“Pete, wake up,” My father’s voice called from the door to the cabin. I stirred a bit, covering my head with my pillow. “Shower quickly and get out here, we’re landing soon.”

Soon? Already? How long had I been asleep?

I sprung out of bed, heading to the bathrooms to shower in the circular full shower, washing up as fast as I could, before I dressed in some warm weather clothes and headed out to the cabin, natural sunlight blinding me a bit before I could see outside the windows at the…

Islands? Surrounded by turquoise… lagoons?

How long had I been asleep?

My father walked over to me, looking out the window alongside me with a grin on his face. “Welcome to Bora Bora, Peter.”

#the bachelor: tony stark edition #bachelor au #tony stark #peter parker #stevetony #stony #stony fic #stevetony fic #tony stark fic #endgame fix it #mine

18 notes · View notes

wisteria-lodge · 4 years

Text

Character Analysis: Sorting Pirates of the Caribbean

So @sortinghatchats is brilliant. Absolutely my favorite character (and person!) analysis system. Instead of one house, you get two - a PRIMARY (your motivation, why you do things), and a SECONDARY (your toolbox, how you get things done.) Here is a very stripped down refresher, and here is my explanation for why I am saying Lion, Bird, Badger and Snake instead of the names of the Hogwarts houses.

IDEALIST PRIMARY Lion - I do what I feel is right. (MORAL) Bird - I do what I decide is correct. (LOGICAL) LOYALIST PRIMARY Badger - I do what helps my community (PEOPLE MATTER) Snake - I do what helps me/my inner circle (MY PEOPLE MATTER)

IMPROVISATIONAL SECONDARY Lion - Charge! React! Smash the system! Snake - Transform, adapt, find the loophole. BUILT SECONDARY Bird - Plan, make tools, gather information. Badger - Community-build, caretake, call in favors.

Now let’s talk Pirates of the Caribbean! I’m mostly focusing on the first film because it’s the best and my favorite, but I do mention 2 and 3.

***

Jack Sparrow is the classic Snake secondary. He’ll improvise an escape, improvise a weapon, wait for “the opportune moment.” He’s never fought fair in his life and doesn’t feel the tiniest bit bad about it. He’s silver-tongued. When he’s in a tight spot, he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks you want to hear. And if he knows you don’t trust him, he’ll reverse-psychology you on purpose.

It’s hard to see past his theatrical, charming, over-the-top way of doing things, and that’s on purpose. The last time Jack told someone what he actually wanted, he got himself marooned. No wonder he “plays things close to the vest now,” living in his secondary, and making people guess his motives.

At first he appears totally pragmatic, always on the side of the person who can give him the most stuff. But I don’t buy it. Jack Sparrow has a weird code of honor. Maybe not one he’s comfortable with (“you can never predict when an honest man is going to do something incredibly… stupid.”) But it’s there. The way he’s introduced - alone, respectfully saluting hanged pirates – that’s letting us know it’s not just his own freedom he values.

I like that little moment after he rescues Elizabeth when he makes it clear that she doesn’t owe him anything. “I saved your life, you saved mine, we’re square” implies that there’s a right way to do things, and that the wrong way is making people feel obligated. Jack has similar moments with Gibbs. Every time he says “keep to the Code,” he’s reaffirming that no one has to save him. When his crew abandons him, Jack shrugs and says, “They’ve done what’s right by them. Can’t ask for more than that.”

This means that Jack Sparrow has a Lion primary. But he’s a pirate, so his felt morality is less right vs. wrong and more free vs. trapped. Apart from that he’s actually kind of a classic Lion - perfectly happy on his own, so long as he doesn’t have to compromise his morals. In a deleted scene we learn that he turned pirate because he refused to be a slave ship captain, and that’s in character. He only wants the Black Pearl because the Black Pearl is freedom. That’s the message he teaches, as an unconventional mentor. He cuts Elizabeth out of her literal corset, and prods Will out of his figurative one.

(and a magic compass that points to whatever Jack wants most is a gorgeous metaphor for a Lion primary, guided by their feelings and intuition. Their internal compass).

Elizabeth Swann has a pirate’s soul. She ends the story as Pirate King. But when we meet her, she is a high-class lady deeply suspicious of the rules. She’s not on board with the latest fashions, eager to ditch her table manners, and she’s real friendly with Will - even though it makes her father bluster, “The setting is not entirely proper!” Miss Elizabeth Swann is stifled by her situation (her corset is too tight.) She’s got a whole life planned out for her, and it’s a nice life. Port Royal is a nice city and Norrington is a nice guy. But still. The thought that this is where things are going makes her uncomfortable.

Elizabeth wants to be able to act based on her gut responses. And as long as the pirates are also doing this, she’s on board. But she ditches the Pirate Code the moment it contradicts her own internal felt morality.

ELIZABETH: All of you with me. Will is in that cave and we must save him! (…) GIBBS: There’s the Code to consider. ELIZABETH: The Code. You’re pirates. Hang the Code, and hang the rules. They’re more like guidelines anyway.

She’s been using the pirate way of life as a way to justify and explain the way she’s always felt. And when you put things in that order (I like this system because it supports what I already know to be true) that’s a Lion primary. Also, the advice her dad gives her is just so perfect for a Lion: “Even a good decision if made for the wrong reasons can be a wrong decision.” You’re doing the smart thing Elizabeth, not the thing you feel is right. It’ll make you miserable. Stop it.

When it comes to secondaries, Elizabeth definitely has some Bird skills. She collects data (about pirates), and can put a plan into action. But it’s a model. When she’s in trouble, when things are serious, she goes improvisational Snake secondary all the way. Elizabeth lies to Barbossa, tells Norrington what he wants to hear, pretends to be drunk to put Jack off his guard. She improvises weapons, and she plays into “proper lady” stereotypes so people underestimate her. Gibbs actually recognizes this, and calls Elizabeth “daft like Jack.”

Elizabeth and Jack do house-match, which is why they always seem to get each other. Elizabeth can pin Jack down and make him give her a straight answer. She’s the only one who can consistently trick him. And when she kills him – well, he forgives. Easily. It’s never even a thing. If he had been in Elizabeth’s place he would have done exactly the same thing, and he knows it. And he knows she knows it.

(it’s kind of neat how at the end of the first movie, the two of them are trapped by Norrington, then freed by Norrington, and go off to form the core of their respective pirate crews.)

Will Turner is a charging Lion secondary who deals with challenging situations by laying all his cards on the table and throwing his sword at something. This makes him a really good foil for the Snake secondary leads, and I will never get tired of watching Jack make faces, and say variations of “how about this time we don’t just run in screaming, yeah?”

JACK: Do us a favor. I know it’s difficult for you, but please, stay here. And try not to do anything… stupid.”

WILL: Let her go! BARBOSSA: You’ve only got one shot, and we can’t die. JACK: Don’t do anything stupid… WILL: You can’t. I can! JACK: … like that.

JACK: So what’s your plan then? WILL: I row over there, search the ship until I find your bloody key. JACK: And if there are crewmen? WILL: I cut down anyone in my path.

To be fair, Will does start off with a Badger secondary model. Badgers care about things being fair, and Will gets annoyed at Jack for cheating, and annoyed at Elizabeth for stealing the medallion. He’s also really leaning into the hard work aspect of the Badger secondary by practicing sword fighting three hours a day. But this doesn’t seem to be a secondary that’s especially good for him. It makes him tense and uptight, and by the end of the first film he’s completely thrown it off.

I really considered a Snake primary for him, based on how single-mindedly he goes after Elizabeth. Movies 2 and 3 just keep throwing Loyalist conflicts at him. (Will can stay with Elizabeth or save his father, but he can’t do both!) But I think he’s actually a Badger primary.

This boy cares about his communities a lot. He doesn’t think he can be with Elizabeth (even though she clearly likes him) because of “propriety.” He believes society when society tells him she’s out of his league. He covers for a boss who spends most of his time passed-out drunk, probably out of a sense of loyalty, or because he feels that’s what he’s supposed to do. He starts off the film completely dehumanizing pirates, but slowly learns his lesson – a very Badger primary character arc. And then, when Will rescues Jack at the end, it’s not because Jack is his (the way a Snake primary would parse it) but because Jack is a good man who isn’t being treated right.

(also the “part of the ship, part of the crew” refrain that Will’s new crew chants as he takes over for Davy Jones is very… dark Badger magic. You are becoming part of the whole.)

Hector Barbossa is the definition of a Burnt Primary. He can’t want. He can’t allow himself to want. Wanting is off the table. (because he is an undead skeleton.)

However, I do think that when Barbossa is healthy and y’know, not cursed, he’s a Snake primary. His beloved monkey is a little nod to the sorts of Snakey bonds he would like to form, but isn’t able to at the moment. Apart from that, he values self-care, and is a bit of a hedonist. He likes pretty things. He likes putting Elizabeth in pretty dresses. He likes elegantly prepared food, antique furniture, and nice hats. (Things start getting serious in the sword fight after Jack cuts off his feather.) This is why I think his redemption arc is so funny. Once his primary unburns, and he’s able to want things safely, he pretty much becomes a happy-go-lucky good guy overnight. And you know, I completely buy it.

As for secondary, I’m going with Badger. Barbossa community builds (he’s a much better captain than Jack.) He gives morale raising speeches. Leader of a mutiny is pretty classic dark Badger stuff. Marooning Jack, and dropping Bootstrap Bill into the ocean tied to a canon are both very ruthless, very public acts that are all about weaponizing community as a way to dehumanize your enemies and cement your power.

James Norrington starts out very Establishment (like Elizabeth.) But unlike Elizabeth, he seems to enjoy the way he can just see his life all laid out. Work his way up, become Commodore, marry the governor’s daughter. He proposes the second after he gets his promotion, it really is like he’s working from a checklist. It’s a very rigid Bird primary.

And he follows the law: “One good deed is not enough to redeem a lifetime of wickedness.” But more than that, he is comforted by following the law. When Jack tempts him into going after the Black Pearl, Norrington is clearly feeling it – but says there are things he values more than his own gut responses.

JACK: Think about it… the last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up? NORRINGTON: By remembering that I serve others, Mr. Sparrow, not only myself.

This is such a great illustration of the difference between a Lion and Bird primary. A Bird’s higher power lives outside of them (and as we see here, that can make them really hard to tempt, bribe, or corrupt). But a Lion’s higher power is inside them, always. At the end of the film, Norrington adapts his system into something that looks a lot more Lion primary (this is a universe that likes Lions, and Norrington likes Lions too). But he’s still very, very Bird.

Governor Swann tells him that “perhaps on the rare occasion that the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself might be the right course,” and Norrington takes that in, sees the actions of Elizabeth, and says - okay. Maybe hunt all pirates always isn’t the perfect system I thought it was. Jack Sparrow tends to leave the world better than he found it, so it’s best to let him go. This change doesn’t seem upsetting to him, he doesn’t need to justify or explain it. It’s just obvious. Norrington reacts exactly the same when he learns that Elizabeth is not in love with him. He absorbs this new information, tells her that he understands, and walks away. When Lions change their minds, the process is a heck of a lot more emotional.

Then in the next film, the people around him don’t support his new Truth, and force Norrington to continue doing things he has discovered that he finds morally objectionable. And so he resigns his commission, burns, and goes into freefall, grasping at the systems he sees around him, trying to find something to hold onto. He seems like he might be beginning to build a more stable Truth – but dies before he can manage it. The sequels did Norrington dirty.

I actually want to say he’s a Badger secondary. At his most desperate and lost, his instinct is to join Jack’s crew. At his most powerful, he’s quietly calling in all his favors and getting the entire Royal Navy to look for Elizabeth. These are both versions of the same thing – leveraging community and connections to get things done.

tl;dr

Jack Sparrow – Lion primary that sees “freedom” as the ultimate good, with a bit of an amoral, pragmatic Snake primary performance so people don’t find that out / Snake secondary

Elizabeth Swann – Stifled Lion primary living in a situation where she’s not allowed to act on her instincts. Runs after pirates every chance she gets, because the ‘pirate life’ allows her to do just that / Snake secondary, Bird secondary model

Will Turner – Badger primary / Lion secondary, Badger secondary model that Jack gets him to drop.

Hector Barbossa – Burnt Snake primary that un-burns when the curse that doesn’t allow him to want things is lifted / Badger secondary

James Norrington – Rigid by-the-books Bird primary that changes to something that looks a lot more Lion, before it burns in the sequels / Badger secondary

210 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 4 years

Note

Do we have a Byakuya giving Renji marriage advice fic? I'd love to read one!

I know this is gonna seem like I can’t read the prompt, because it’s 95% Byakuya giving Rukia marriage advice, but I just honestly think Byakuya trusts Renji on this, given that Renji has worked for him for years at this point and just sort of anticipates all his needs and understands him better than really anyone, and also, Byakuya does not understand Renji at all and has no idea how his dumb jock brain works. He knows exactly how Rukia’s brain works, though.

Anyway, I am back on my Byakuya-writing-letters bullshit, please enjoy some Sunday afternoon feels. I think it should be obvious, but this takes place the night after Rukia and Renji’s wedding.

❤️ 🥂 🎊

It was late at night, but Rukia couldn’t sleep. Too much excitement, maybe, the unfamiliarity of a new house, the evening’s pleasant alcoholic haze fading into the beginnings of a hangover. It certainly couldn’t be the idea of a new life entirely, looming in front of her like an iceberg, complete with a new name and all sorts of new possibilities. Primarily, there was a new bed and a new person who slept in it with her, and she found the idea of waking him up terrifying, so she slipped out from under the blankets and crept downstairs.

She was digging around in the kitchen, wondering if Renji had gotten around to making any pickles since he moved in a month ago (there was an entire cabinet full, wonderful man!), when she remembered the note.

Rukia had briefly flipped through the envelopes of wedding money they had received earlier. The one from her brother bulged, and when she opened it up, the bills inside were large. Renji got nervous in the presence of large sums of money and she suspected he would attempt to give it back, so put it away quickly to deal with later, but not before she noticed a sheet of paper tucked inside among the bills. It had only her name on it, in her brother’s finest handwriting.

After retrieving the note, she settled on the couch (which had been Renji’s but was now theirs because that’s how this worked) with the jar of pickles tucked beside her (the pickles were hers because they were the spicy kind Renji made specially for her even though he couldn’t eat them himself).

My beloved sister, the note opened.

It is my impression that one of the important roles of an older brother is to go before one’s younger siblings, to chart the unknown terrain of life, and to act as guide and mentor. My own marriage was characterized by deep love and joy in the face of hardship, and I hope that yours will contain all of its happiness and none of its heartache. Unfortunately, I regret to inform you, I have no idea how I did it.

When our lots were first cast together, as you know, I declined to form a close relationship with you. This was a mistake on my part, born of the fear that you would remind me too much of Hisana. Later on, to my horror, I found the truth to be far worse-- although you do share some of your sister’s fine qualities, in personality, you bear a much greater resemblance to myself.

That being the case, I imagine that by the time you find this note, you will have tied yourself up into knots over whether or not you ‘deserve this’ or if you can ever be a satisfactory partner. We are very fine Kuchiki, you and I, Rukia. We are strong of body and of will. We are dignified in all we do. We devote ourselves to our duties before our else. Our hearts are strong and love strongly, but we hold them close, as we must. Our family is our pride, which, paradoxically, makes it nearly impossible to share ourselves with those we hold closest.

Your sister Hisana was an exceedingly stubborn person, who formed her own opinions of me, which may or may not have had any grounding in reality. She frequently told me that I was ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ and ‘sweet’ and a variety of other adjectives that no other thinking person would dare to apply to me. It is very difficult to live with such a person for long before you find yourself trying to live up to their misguided delusions.

As it happens, this is among the distressing number of personality traits my adjutant shares with my late wife. His optimism is endless, his vision is permanently rose-tinted, even when he insists upon wearing those horrendous goggles. Any yet, time and again, I have seen him bring out the best qualities in the horrible ne’er-do-wells under our mutual command. Indeed, if I have ever been a good brother to you, it is mostly due to his belief that I could be so. It is a verifiable fact that you are one of the best best souls in all of Soul Society, one would think it would be unimaginable to inflate your worth beyond its actual measure, and yet, somewhere, he manages that, as well.

How is one supposed to live up to these sorts of expectations from the person they love most of all? It is impossible. At least in my case, Hisana was quite aware that I am a pompous buffoon, whereas Abarai fully believes the sun rises and sets for your personal benefit. I am going to tell you something that may be difficult to hear: you have to simply deal with it. He is never going to stop. If you are truly as like to me as I suspect, you will rebel against this, your brain constantly trying to sabotage your happiness.

The fact of the matter is, Rukia, these feelings of inadequacy spring from the very fact that you hold him so dearly that your own estimation of him is also blown out of proportion. Do not misinterpret me. I am very fond of Abarai, but he is a mess. A disaster. You have probably never seen his filing system, but it would give you the vapors. (I do suggest that you take responsibility over that aspect of your household management.) Again, I sympathize. He is actually not nearly so bad as your sister, whom I once watched deface a centerpiece at a very fancy benefit dinner (the end result was extremely offensive and also very humorous). In my mind, she is still the most perfect person I have ever met.

Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps you are plagued with none of the insecurities that troubled the early days of my marriage, and that I was only able to come to terms with once it became evident that our time together would be finite. I desperately hope this is the case, and if so, please do me the courtesy of destroying this letter, and forgetting all of this.

In either case, I wish you the utmost happiness with your horrible husband.

Your affectionate brother,

Byakuya

Rukia’s fingers clenched on the edges of the paper. The edges of her eyes were burning. How dare he do this to her, after all these years? How many times had they crossed paths in the gardens in the hours when they should have been sleeping? Since when did they need to say things in order to show how well they understood each other? Rukia had half a mind to march over there right now and punch him in his perfect face. He was most likely sitting out next to the koi pond this very minute.

“Thinkin’ of skippin’ out on me already?” a sleepy voice asked behind her, and Rukia jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“What? No!” Rukia rubbed at her hair and frowned apologetically at Renji, who seemed more interested in yawning. "I was thinking too loud and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Nah, my skull is too thick, I can’t even hear my own thoughts most of the time.” Renji leaned over the back of the couch, and Rukia guiltily folded her note in half. “Letter from Captain?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rukia excused. “Sorry. It was kinda personal.”

“I understand. I got one, too. It was less personal.”

A piece of paper dropped in her lap and as she was busy unfolded it, Renji grabbed her jar of pickles.

“Hey, that’s mine!” she protested.

“You don’t gotta tell me what your brother wrote to you,” Renji yawned, tucking the pickles under his arm. “But I think you should probably listen to him. He knows what’s he’s on about.”

Rukia looked at the piece of Squad Six letterhead in her hands. In precise, businesslike handwriting, it read:

To: Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain, Sixth Division

From: Kuchiki Byakuya, Captain Sixth Division

Re: My sister/Your pending wife

Lieutenant Abarai,

Please be aware that Rukia is prone to poor decisions when she has insomnia and it is in your best interest to prevent her from consuming excessively spicy and/or vinegared goods past a respectable bedtime.

Sincerely,

Captain Kuchiki

“Rat fink!” Rukia exclaimed.

“Come back to bed,” Renji implored, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I know some good ways to make your brain shut up.”

“Okay,” Rukia agreed grumpily. “I’m eating those pickles for breakfast, though.”

“I’m makin’ pancakes, but suit yourself.”

Rukia decided that maybe it was best to try and get some rest. She had a big rest-of-her-life coming up the next day.

#my writing #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #renruki #byakuya feels are the worst feels #but pining-for-his-dead-wife byakuya is the best byakuya #the paradox of byakuya

56 notes · View notes

honibee-arts · 4 years

Note

dramatic villain nie huaisang and hero jiang cheng? maybe nie huaisang flirts with the hero while jiang cheng is kinda horny but has a duty to fulfill?

Just a warning this gets a little steamy but its a kind of pan to the window vibe. I will mark this as NSFWish text to be safe though.

"Jie, I don't think I can get all of these people out of here in time.” Jiang Cheng panted into his headset, holding the crumbling ceiling up with one arm, watching the people run out.

He heard his sister sigh, her manicured nails clicking against her keyboard.

“Lightbearer and Moonbeam should be on the scene in the next two minutes.” she replied.

“Jie, I don’t have two minutes. This building is going to collapse in the next thirty fucking seconds.”

“A-Cheng, language.”

“I’m holding up a building, I don’t even have super strength. I’m gonna die like this. Can’t you tell them to hurry up?” He grit his teeth. He’s going to have a fucking hernia and broken bones after this shit, and he was going to make that stoic asshole Lightbearer pay for his goddamn medical bills. He probably had more than enough money.

“They’re going as fast as they can, A-Cheng.”

“And your boyfriend couldn’t come and help?”

“A-Xuan’s taking A-Ling today so you could patrol, remember?”

“It’s hard to remember when I’m being crushed.”

Jiang Cheng widened his stance, pushing the crumbling ceiling back up with both hands, growling in pain. Black spots began to gather in his vision, his static flickering across his visor from the strain on his suit.

“We’ll take it from here, thank you, Violet Spider.” Came Moonbeam’s firm yet gentle tone, taking the weight literally off of Jiang Cheng’s shoulders.

“About fucking time.” He wheezed, taking a deep breath as his arms dropped by his sides, wincing in pain.

“Would appreciate some gratitude.” Lightbearer huffed petulantly as he helped his brother carefully lift the falling ceiling back up, holding it there in an eerie white glow.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes as the remaining people rushed past them, scrambling to get out of there as quickly as possible. Jiang Cheng didn’t blame them in their haste, not one bit. He didn’t like being the one to hold that shit up.

“Are you alright, A-Cheng?” His sister asked in his earpiece, the display on his visor recalibrating.

“Yeah, yeah. Just. Exhausted...” he stood back and caught his breath.

“I’ll make sure to have some lotus rib soup for you when you get home, A-Cheng. I’ll check over your injuries too.”

“A-Jie, you don’t need to do that.”

“Aiya, hush. It’s nothing. I’ll check what the damages are to your suit too.”

“A-Jie...”

“No buts, A-Cheng.”

He sighed and looked down, his hair falling over his visor as he stared at the rubble beneath his feet.

“I’m going to have the longest goddamn nap in history after this.”

“You deserve it, A-Cheng.” A-Jie hummed. “Thank you, A-Xuan.” she said softly, sipping what Jiang Cheng assumed was a cup of tea handed to her by her boyfriend.

In his visor, purple warning symbols flared up in his periphery.

“A-Cheng-”

“On it.” He said as he spotted a flare of green a few blocks away. Gritting his teeth against the ache in his arms, Jiang Cheng jumped up onto the wall of the nearest building, scaling it as quickly as possible and sprinting across the rooftops.

Sometimes, only sometimes, Jiang Cheng hated this fucking job. Sure, he could have a normal 9-5 job and earn a stable income, but no, he just had to be born the son of Yunmeng’s protector and inherit her powers and mantle, along with a load of fucking pressure. He just had to have been trained intensely by his mother, day in and day out from the second his powers manifested at 11. He just had to have had the heroes instinct and the motto of “Attempt the impossible” drummed into him since he was a child.

As much as he wanted to push back against his instinct to protect in favour of his exhaustion sometimes, he couldn’t stop himself.

The blasts led him to the Jin Corporation office building in Yunping, only a half mile from the crumbling building he was just almost crushed under.

“A-Jie, the source is coming from the Jin Corp. offices in Yunping.”

“Mm. I saw. The building that you were just in was a Jin owned business too.” She replied thoughtfully.

“Does your boyfriend know anything about someone that might have been slated by his father? Cousin maybe?”

“Nothing. I know Jin Guangyao had a complicated relationship with Red Blade. There were rumours about him having something to do with his retirement.”

‘Retirement’ had been a delicate way of putting what happened to Red Blade. When Jiang Cheng had first come onto the hero scene, Red Blade had taken him under his wing. He had been something of an older brother figure, despite being the protector of Qinghe rather than Yunmeng.

He had been familiar with Jiang Cheng’s abilities, having also been mentored by Jiang Cheng’s predecessor. Everyone knew and respected Red Blade. His super strength and speed was matched by none, in his prime he could leap a building in a single bound and punch a meteor out of the sky without so much as a single scratch. With all that power however, came a price. Red Blade had been prone to feral rages which were difficult to pull him out of, very few people could. Moonbeam seemed to be the only one beside whoever was in his ear all the time who could do it.

About six months ago, Red Blade had disappeared for three days. Moonbeam had found him snarling and bleeding from his eyes, his right arm severed and his eyes white. How Red Blade had survived, Jiang Cheng had no idea. After a few weeks in a medically induced coma, Red Blade had announced his retirement and hung up his mantle for good. Only Moonbeam was said to know what had happened to him following his retirement. There was sometime unspoken between those two that Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite figure out but stank of probably resolved sexual tension.

“Shit!” Jiang Cheng cursed, narrowly avoiding a blast of green energy, rolling onto the nearest roof and ducking for cover.

“A-Cheng.” A-Jie chided.

“Like you didn’t say worse when you were being shot at.” Jiang Cheng argued, sending a bolt of violet lighting back.

“Back in the day, I didn’t run my mouth like a sailor, A-Cheng.”

“I bet you don’t miss this part of heroing, huh?”

“There are times I am grateful I took a permanent maternity leave, yes.” She replied. “A-Cheng! On your left! Someone’s coming your way, and its not anyone on the Lotus servers. Be on your guard.”

Jiang Cheng nodded and raised his hackles as a a figure cloaked in blinding green energy floated onto the building, their black heels clicking against the concrete roof. As soon as the figure was close enough, Jiang Cheng shot a bolt of lightning in their direction, yet, to his horror, it was deflected easily.

“Come on out little spider, I won’t hurt you.” The figure said.

Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly and stepped out, hackles still raised.

“Aiya, so defensive. Put your arms down so I can see your pretty face. I won’t try anything.” Jiang Cheng slowly lowered his arms but kept his guard up, stance firm. “So stubborn. That’s better though, hello handsome.”

The figure was slender, androgynous with long, dark hair that shone in their eerie green glow and flowed behind them in the wind, their eyes afire with the energy that seemed pulse from their entire being, almost drawing Jiang Cheng in like a moth to a particularly deadly yet hard to resist flame. Their body was wrapped in a skin-tight leather-like substance with mesh panels, leaving even less to the imagination, half of their face obscured by a mask that started at the neck and wrapped around his mouth and nose.

Jiang Cheng swallowed thickly, ready to burst into action whenever necessary.

“And what should I call you?” Jiang Cheng said steadily.

“Well, I go by he/him pronouns, but I do quite like it when sexy men like you call me beautiful.” He giggled, bouncing on his heels a little. “Binary terms are horseshit anyway, gender is a social construct.”

“Not what I meant but. I don’t like misgendering people. Even if they’re tearing up half the fucking city. So. Thanks.”

“Well, I haven’t really given myself a name yet.” The man hummed, snapping open one of the fans in his hand and fluttering it lightly. “Kinda just wanted to do one thing and hang up the whole thing I guess.”

“And you wanted to what, not get caught?”

“Well, something of the sort.”

“And you assumed you could do this tearing up half the city looking like a green lava lamp dressed like a hooker?”

“A-Cheng! Be nice!”

“Yes, listen to your sister, A-Cheng.”

“How do you know that!” Jiang Cheng snapped, his hands sparking.

“Whoa, whoa, easy hot stuff, I mean you and your family no harm. You have your headset on way too loud and everyone can hear you saying A-Jie so. Go figure.”

“Alright... I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

“He seems genuine, A-Cheng. I’m going to log off for now, but I’ll keep an eye on your vitals and see if you seem like you need help.”

“Alright...” He heard the line go quiet, her lotus icon in the corner of his visor going totally transparent.

“Is it just us?” The man asked.

“Yeah. Just us. So. What the fuck is your deal?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“The Jin corporation have fucked plenty of innocent people over, but there are also innocent people in that tower you’re trying to destroy.”

“They’re collateral. I’ve accepted those losses.” The man said, his demeanour turning cold suddenly.

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“You wouldn’t understand my motivations.” The man turned around and stared ahead at the slowly burning building ahead of them.

“Ugh, what is it with villains and cryptic bullshit? I can’t let you wreck the fucking building, okay?”

“Watch me.”

Jiang Cheng lunged and grabbed his arm, earning a blast of green energy to his solar plexus that sent him staggering. Today was not his day.

“If you want a fight, then fine.” The man said, rolling his shoulders. “I’m just sorry I’ll have to kick that glorious ass of yours.”

Jiang Cheng felt his cheeks flush.

“Oh please, the spandex doesn’t hide shit.” The man said before lunging at Jiang Cheng.

Yeah, okay. This was a day Jiang Cheng really hated his fucking job. His muscles screamed with exhaustion as the man tackled him to the roof, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head. Maybe he was tired and his resolve was slipping, or maybe he had been rocking a semi for a fair amount of the fight and could admit this man was fucking hot despite his different side of the law.

The tightly coiled strength in his deceivingly slender limbs forced Jiang Cheng down as he straddled his lap. As he brushed his groin, Jiang Cheng let out a slight groan.

“Hold on,” The man said, sitting back. “Are you hard? Does fighting me turn you on?”

“Sh-Shut up! Are we gonna fight or not?!” He struggled under his grip.

Fuck, okay. The man was right. This was humiliating. Why does he enjoy this?

“I dunno, do you want some help with that?” The man purred, his long, thick lashes fanning over his cheeks as he leaned in closer, shifting his hips ever so slightly and earning another groan from Jiang Cheng.

“Are you crazy? I’m meant to be fighting you!”

“I know but, I kinda like this vibe we have going. Do you?”

Jiang Cheng bit his lip and looked away, nodding.

“I need a verbal yes.”

“You care about that?”

“I’m an anarchist not a monster, damn. Answer me.”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I... I like... this.”

“And is it a yes that you consent to this rooftop encounter?”

“C’mon I already said-”

“Yes or no spider. I won’t take that horseshit for an answer.”

“... Yes. I would like you to. Help me out.”

“Good,” he hummed, hooking a black gloved finger in his mask and tugging it down, revealing soft, pink lips pulled into a suggestive smirk. “I’m glad to be of service.” and he leaned down to press his lips to Jiang Cheng’s.

#sangcheng #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #nie huaisang #mdzs #cql #cheng qing ling #the untamed #mo dao zhu shi #ship prompts #nsfwi-sh text #my shitty writing

73 notes · View notes

unknowncountrygirl · 3 years

Text

The New Chaser Pt.4

Iris walked into the common room and Murphy spotted her immediately. Wearing high waisted denim jeans, and he had never been so happy to be ass level with the world. What made his brain almost shut down was an all too familiar hand knitted sweater, with a predominant W on it.

Freaking Weasley.

He didn't even care which one, Charlie or Bill. Most likely freaking Bill. Stupid, brave, and stupidly handsome Bill. He knew they were close, but he wondered the situation that would arise for Bill to give her his sweater.

Iris spotted them all gathered in a corner and made her way over, looking a bit sheepish.

“I thought I was meeting just Skye, about the Quidditch tryouts.” She admitted.

“Right, about that-” Skye started.

“Not all who aspire to play Quidditch make their House team on their first try.” Orion cut her off in his firm, yet still dreamy and far off tone. Iris's whole posture fell.

“I see.”

Murphy couldn't stand it. “But you did!” He yelled excitedly.

“I did! I made the team!?” Iris asked, her eyes bright and a smile upon her lips.

“Congratulations. You are our new chaser, Iris Rosewood.” Orion conformed for her.

“Smashin, right?” Skye punched her shoulder.

“If you could see your face, Iris. Did we fool you into thinking you hadn't made the team?” Murphy asked her, hoping she wouldn't take the tease personally. She placed a hand over her chest and let out a long breath.

“It was hard to tell,” she admitted honestly. “But I was holding onto hope that I'd made the team.”

“Hope won't get you anywhere in Quidditch, Iris, your hard work got you the chaser position.” Skye told her.

“Well I was 81% sure we had you fooled.”

“Numbers aren't worth much unless they're on a scoreboard McNully.” Skye retorted to him, earning her a glare.”

“Quidditch is not about keeping score.” Orion mentioned offhanded. That earned a odd look from the other three in the circle.

“It literally is, if we're going to win the House cup.” Skye explained as if she was talking to a child. “And those chances just got better with you playing Chaser alongside us, Iris.”

“Well it's brilliant news to me! Thank you, I couldn't have done it without you.” The blonde smiled at each of them warmly.

“No problem!” Skye chirped.

“I know!” Murphy could have slapped himself.

“You are welcome.” Orion said, smoothly as fine silk. Murphy, Orion, and Skye all looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

“Hold on,” Skye held up a finger, “which one of us do you mean, Iris?”

“Couldn't I have been talking to all of you?” Iris asked innocently.

“Indeed. We are all of us. And all of us are one.”

“How do you not drive yourself absolutely bonkers, Orion?” Skye retorted in her typically crass way.

“How does anyone find mental clarity amid chaos?”

“Knew you'd answer my question with a question...” She huffed and blew a piece of her blue hair out of her eye.

“Was it not a hypothetical question?”

“Well, let's see... Skye asked, how do you not drive yourself absolutely bonkers, and then Orion asked, how is it that anyone finds mental clarity amid chaos. Then Skye said, knew you'd answer my question with a question. And then-”

“You're an interesting one McNully.” Skye cut him off with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Shall we get back to celebrating Iris joining our Quidditch team?” Orion asked.

“Yeah, it's funny, I just realized that this is the first time I've seen you three together in one place at one time.” Iris smiled, trying to redirect the conversation. Even though there was obvious DO NOT ASK and blinking red lights in his minds eye, Murphy opened his mouth and immediately regretted it.

“And what do you think about that?” What if she answers and says its rotten, smooth move.

But in typical Iris fashion, “I think it's wonderful having all my new Quidditch mates together.”

“Quidditch brings together witches and wizards of all kinds.” Orion told her with a smile that made Murphy want to punch him right in the groin. He was beginning to get a very uncomfortable feeling that perhaps Iris's kind nature and beauty had allured more then just him.

“All kinds for sure.” Skye agreed.

“So we're Quidditch mates. Does this mean you're going to start calling me McNully now?” Murphy asked. Iris completely ignored him and asked,

“So what now? How should we celebrate?”

“With Quidditch of course!�� Skye said with a murderous glint in her eye that would strike fear into most people.

“Let us head to the Pitch. It's time for your first official team practice as a chaser at Hogwarts.” Orion told Iris, placing a hand on her shoulder, turning her towards the door. Again the flame of jealous rage burned in Murphy's stomach as he watched Orion snake his arm around her shoulder's.

He had never had a bad thought or feeling towards Orion, but in that instant he did. What he really wanted to do was reach up, rip Orion's arm off and slap him with his own hand and maybe punch him in the crotch while he was at it so that he doubled over, making them eye level so he could hit him again.

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

Murphy made himself at home in the commentators booth with some books and a notepads, he knew this was going to be a long 'special' practice and what Orion had in store. See who could balance on a broom and break the record. He had no idea what good it would do, but he was ready with a stopwatch.

Iris and Skye were both easy to spot on their brooms, Iris's white blonde hair all piled on top of her head in a huge knot and Skye's bright blue hair made the two girls hard to miss. There must have been a joke passed because the high giggling of the two girls picked up on the wind and blew the noise his way.

He looked up and saw they were both still standing on their brooms. He had to admit, it seemed that the two girls were genuinely getting along not just as a mentor and student but as two people who enjoyed one another's company. He smiled as he scratched something down, he felt that Iris would be a good for Skye in the way that perhaps the blonde's less volatile nature could rub off on Skye. He honestly had no idea how Skye was sorted into Gryffindor, she had Slytherin written all over her.

Iris was very easy going, but he had seen her fired up before and he had loved that little wild spark in her. There wasn't much he disliked about her, he knew that eventually something would arise that would make her seem more human to him, something that would grate on his nerves but as it stood she was in his eyes the perfect female.

One thing he had grown to truly admire is that she saw people it seemed by their heart before she saw what they looked like, most people saw the chair before they actually saw Murphy. He also noted that her friend group was very much like a patchwork quilt, full of clashing patterns and colors that somehow all melded together to make something warm and comforting. He knew that Rowan Khana, the girl who wore hand me down clothing, oversized glasses, and always had her nose in a book was her absolute best friend and closest confidant. She was also exceptionally close to Ben Copper, who he knew because they roomed together, a muggleborn who had been afraid of the world had befriended her and she had helped him navigate the world of Wizardry. She had befriended the eldest Weasley, Bill, and every Weasley since, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, which made him wonder if she knew the family and subsequently the other younger Weasley's. She was also friends with the ever popular Penny Haywood, and the trickster twins Tulip and Tonks.

Then there was Barnaby Lee, while he seemed a decent fellow he was awfully dense and Iris had nothing but patience and kindness when it came to him. Andre who he had talked with about quidditch also had nothing but dazzling things to say about the girl, admitting also to Murphy that if he was straight, he would 100% be chasing Iris's skirt. Then there were her friends he knew less about, such as Jae Kim, Badeea Ali, Liz Tuttle, Diego Caplan, Cedric Diggory, Talbot Winger, and Chiara Lobosca. He knew that Liz, Talbot, and Chiara were exceptionally quiet and reserved people and somehow, someway Iris had used that gravitational charm of hers to even pull them out of the rock they had been living under.

These were all people that under normal circumstances would not be friendly with one another let alone actually call themselves friends. The only thing they had in common was the shared friendship and subsequent philia form of love that Iris had flourished in all of them. She was the gravitational center that held them together and she had no idea just how valuable and loved she was. That was what he admired the most about her, he had been charmed by her looks but had fallen for the heart she had. She put everyone else before herself and he knew there were few people that were so self sacrificing as she was.

He was falling in love with the girl, and it was terrifying.

He had nearly worried his lip bloody when he checked the watch and seen they were closing in on nearly 3 hours. It was no surprise that Iris and Skye were the last two left on their brooms.

Iris was the last to loose her footing on the broom and fall, clocking in at 2 hours, 53 minutes, and 4.9 seconds. Perhaps now he could focus on his notes and stats.

Unfortunately, all thought cleared the room when a little enchanted paper bird flew into his commentators box. A note, from Iris, asking for him to meet her in the changing tent in a few minutes.

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

Iris entered the tent after the unorthodox practice session and cracked her neck.

“And now entering the changing room, the new record holder of the broom balancing challenge! Clocking an impressive 2 hours, 53 minutes, and 4.9 seconds... Gryffindor's newest Chaser, Iris Rosewood!” Murphy shouted, and she smiled over at him.

“That's quite the Quidditch introduction to live up to, no pressure.”

“You're on the Quidditch Team, it'll be nothing but pressure from now on.” He joked, “so, what did you want to see me about?”

“I've learned our first house match will be against Slytherin. We've been practicing plenty, but I thought you'd know how to strategise against their team best.”

“I always know best! Direct your attention to my blackboard dearest Iris.” He wanted to slap himself. Dearest Iris, it sounded even cornier then he thought it would.

“There's nothing on it.” Her gentle voice stated.

“Yet. You know how this works, Iris” He picked up his wand and flicked it at the blackboard, drawings, numbers, and patterns coming to life on the black surface. “This is how you defeat Slytherin, but you didn't hear it from me. I'm just the impartial commentator.”

“Oh come on now Murphy,” Iris drawled with a sly grin. “We both know how impartial you are not.” Was she... Was she teasing him? “But, all right, talk me through it.”

“Talk? Perhaps my favorite thing to do!”

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

“And so, now you know... That is how you crush Slytherin in the first match.” Iris looked incredibly perplexed as she studied the blackboard.

“Murphy... This is... This is just the Thimblerig Shuffle. You already taught this to me. You watched me try it at practice.” She stated with a pout.

“Right,” he affirmed. “But you haven't tried it in a house match yet. That's where it matters! That's when it will count! That's your true test-”

“The true test of your Thimblerig Shuffle strategy? Or are you testing me personally?” There was a firmness in her voice that alerted him that she was put off by this. He felt a bit sheepish and rubbed his neck.

“Perhaps both? No Pixies will be released, if that helps.”

“I thought I was done being tested once I made the team.”

“You were tested so that you could make the team. But you'll be tested again and again.” he informed her. “Navigating the house alliances and rivalries, the team politics and policies. Just the clash of wills between Skye and Orion alone.”

Iris rolled her eyes and let out a huff as she plopped onto the bench nearby.

“Yeah. I'm starting to see some of that already.”

“Sometimes I'm their mediator... Sometimes the instigator.” He winked.

“That shouldn't surprise anyone.” She rubbed her forehead.

“Listen, Iris, do I believe the Thimblerig Shuffle will throw off Slytherin's defense? Yes. Would I like to see my strategy put to the test? Also yes.” He admitted honestly.

“I came to you for some insight into the competition, Murphy. But to pul off your original strategy in a House match... I'm brand new to the team, I won't be calling the shots.”

“Bingo! That's your test: convincing Orion to give the Thimblerig Shuffle a chance in a house match.” He exclaimed.

“I could give it a try, but Orion could say no.”

“And then you could go rogue and try the strategy anyway. Think of our house!”

“Uhuh.” She gave him an unimpressed look. “I'll go and talk to Orion. You do know you're perhaps the most partial impartial commentator ever.”

“That's what my mum says.” He gave her a wink but he could tell she was stressed and not as receptive to the flirtatious banter.

#hphm #hphm murphy mcnully #murphy mcnully #hphm quidditch #hphm jacobs sibling

2 notes · View notes