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w33nies · 9 months

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Qué Maravilla CH.1

Next ChapterMiguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: none? lots of angst tbh summary: You and Miguel don't see eye to eye about Miles and canon events. Arguments arise and so do some secrets. art is not mine!!!! @uzuriart on insta !!!

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Ch. 1 - Only You

“I’m not asking,” said Miguel.

The boy he was speaking to was the poster child of the unbridled virtue and righteousness you’ve come to associate with the youth. Rebellious, head-strong, and empathetic (possibility to a fault). You had heard of this boy, Miles Morales. The first anomaly. The accidental spiderman. He was surrounded by O’Hara and his subordinates who stood as a silent imposing force, no doubt working to disway him by their sheer numbers alone. But the boy? The boy stood his ground. Like an outsider looking in. Or was it an insider looking out? Nonetheless, you knew it took a strong man to be able to stand alone and that he had the makings of a great spiderman, probably one of the best.

Miguel on the other hand, stood with his hands on his hips. Towering frame staring down the teenager with an almost paternal sternness. A monument of the now unshakable chain of command he had built from the ground up. Firm in his stance and belief like a river that would not divert its course.

While everyone in the Spider Society was on the same page, every once in a while there were voices of dissent that would arise from the younger spider folk. The biggest in recent memory probably being the shaky ethics of the ‘Go Home Machine.’ You have been in the Spider Society for about 6 months now. To your knowledge no one had ever been bold or, dare you say, foolish enough to bring their qualms to Miguel directly, not even Hobie. But the scene before you was probably the most definitive example of the growing uncertainty in authority brewing amongst the younger spiders. It was like experiencing one great big generational divide appear right before your eyes.

Despite the stand off taking place a mere few feet in front of you, your mind was beginning to wander elsewhere. Now silently doing the math Miguel had laid out for specifically Miles but also inadvertently for you.

“Canon Event ASM 90,” O’hara explained, "A Police Captain close to Spider-Man dies saving a kid from falling rubble during battle with an arch-nemesis.”

That sentence had taken you completely off guard. You looked around the room from spider to spider, each lacking any inkling of the shock you felt hearing that statement. Even towards the holographic display of thousands of spider men and women kneeling in grief over their dead comrades. You knew all about canon events and the ‘fate of the multiverse’ junk Miguel would spew from time to time. Of course you knew everyone had their own radioactive spider bite, an arch nemesis, an Uncle Ben, but Captain? You haven't experienced anything like the things he was chastising the young man before him about . So you raked your mind for anyone that could possibly be. You weren’t close to anyone on the force. In fact, you didn’t have the best relationship with the ‘law enforcement’ of your dimension. They were corrupt, violent, prejudiced, anything and everything they shouldn’t have been. It's the whole reason you became a spider, actually. Was it possible that he told you and you simply forgot then? There’s nobody you knew who would even consider-

Oh.

Oh no.

- - -

Your niece was 17 years old. She was the only one out of your entire family who knew about your superhero identity, and not by choice either. 2 years ago you had broken through the window of your sister’s house after a particularly harrowing battle against your universe’s version of the Green Goblin, seeking a temporary refuge. You incorrectly asserted that the entire family was on vacation. As a reward for your incompetence your niece caught you battered, bruised, beaten, and maskless in the bathtub. You were basically obligated to tell her after that. The more and more she pried into you about your double life, the more her sense of justice and righteousness grew. You were against her pleas to help you in the beginning, but she proved to be a valuable asset. She was incredibly smart, not to mention scientific, thorough, and calculated. She uncovered scores of classified information, provided live updates during missions, even helped you develop your new high tech suit. In short, she was your girl in the chair.

One night the two of you were sitting on the top of one of the skyscrapers in downtown Manhattan (thanks to your web slinging) . You were in a low squat with your hands placed between your tip toed feet watching the hustle and bustle of the city below you.

“You’re brooding again.” She quipped behind you, cutting through your concentration. You turned around to see her tapping her foot and crossing her arms in mock annoyance.

“Sorry, force of habit.” You chuckle as you back away from the dangerous ledge opting to lean against it instead.

“So...I’ve been thinking…” She starts with her hands in her coat pocket, swaying side to side like a little kid.

“About what?” you raise your eyebrow, half expecting one of her outlandish requests, like when she asked you to pick her up from school in costume in front of her friends or when she tried to convince you to crash her friends’ moms’ wedding (also in costume). “Just so you know, I’m not gonna slingshot you out the-”

“No! About the city! Look…,” she gave a deep sigh before continuing “I hate that I know so much about what’s hurting this city and I… can’t do anything.”

“What?...What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?!” she said frantically waving her hands to find the words she had been mulling over for ages, but were now escaping her. “Like- Look at you! You have superpowers. You fight crime. You…you’re changing the world and I…” she slumped over, putting her hands in her pockets “Never mind, just forget it.”

“You know I couldn’t do any of this without you kid.” You watched her face, still coated gloom. “We’re like Sherlock and Watson,” you joked, attempting to lift her spirits.

“I know…,” she walked next to you now resting her arms on the ledge staring intently at the skyline. “But I could do so much more. I don't want to…ugh… I just- I don’t want to hide in my room and watch innocent people get hurt anymore.”

Those words shocked you into silence. A tense quiet that seemed to last hours. Only to be broken by her soft whisper.

“I’m gonna change New York. I’m going to change everything.” she spoke in such a hushed tone it would’ve easily been lost to the wind for your heightened senses. “ The gangs, the politicians, the police- all of it. I’m gonna change it all. Whatever it takes. Imma do whatever it takes…'' she spoke, never breaking the determined gaze with the city below her.. It was a declaration similar to the one you made 3 years ago when life decided it had more interesting plans in store for you. ‘She’d make a great spider’ you thought to yourself ‘and an even better leader’. You contemplated telling her so but you bit your cheek. Instead, you playfully shoved her shoulder with your own.

“And I’ll be right there with you. Every step of the way.”

“And this time you’ll be Waston.”

You laughed, “Dream on kid.”

- - -

Shouldn’t wouldn’t. Would She?

But she could and that alone was enough to solidify your stance.

It’s a culmination of sounds that pulls you from your thoughts. You look up and see chaos. Miles bangs his fists on the holographic barricade that now confines him. Did Miguel have that on him the entire time? Spiders all around you now murmuring in confusion amongst themselves, Jessica giving Hobie a ‘stern talking to,’ and Gwen and Miguel in the midst of a shouting match.

“Miguel, is all of this really necessary?,” you wedge yourself between Miguel and Gwen “He’s just a kid.”

“He doesn’t know any better-” Gwen started.

“- But you do,” O’hara was seething, fingers jabbed threateningly close to her face. He was growing defensive.

Wait a minute, even Gwen knew? She had been inducted into spider society less than half the time you have and she knew. When you first joined Spider Society Miguel practically took you under his wing and showed you the ropes himself. You had been on so many missions together you had honestly lost count. The hours of tracking anomalies, preserving canons, scouring through files and files of spiderman lore, discussing hot take after hot take on the yet to be discovered intricacies of the multiverse. Come to think of it, you knew canon events like the back of your hand, he made sure of that. There was simply no way a spiderman hallmark of this magnitude would just slip your mind.

“Miguel, We need to-”

You’re interrupted by a loud screeching bang that shakes the tower and rumbles the ground beneath you. You shielded your eyes from the source of the blinding light. When you regained focus you spotted Miles, free of his confinement yet frozen in place like a deer in headlights. He glanced at Miguel who, now kneeling on the floor, unveiled his eyes and returned his gaze with his own look of genuine surprise. Then, without missing a beat Miles booked it towards the archway leading out of the tower.

“MILES!” Miguel took off after the boy, starting on all fours before leaping upright with the speed of a demon and a glare bordering on insanity. You watched as all of the spider kind chased after him. You shook the initial shock out of your body and began running.

‘What in the actual hell is going on?’ you thought to yourself.

- - -

You feel a knot grow in the pit of your stomach as the mechanical arm grabs Gwen and yanks her to the platform.

“Go home Gwen.” Miguel’s voice booming throughout the entire space. If there were any naysayers, none of them dared to voice their concerns, not now.

Gwen fought futilely against the strength of the machine holding her to the platform. She shot her web in search of an anchor but to no avail and then began to pound against the barrier threatening to snuff her from the dimension completely. As if that wasn’t enough, her last interaction with Miguel rattled your core.

“We’re supposed to be the good guys, ” she asserted.

“We are,” was all he managed in response.

The words traveled down your spine like ice. While you all had a good grasp on the in’s and outs of the multiverse, even Miguel had to admit there were so many things waiting to be discovered, not to mention the assertions you all held that could just be plain wrong. Could this be one of them? Could you all remain connected in different ways?

“Miguel.” you turn so fast you end up stumbling after him. He’s already barking orders and dividing everyone into search parties. Portals begin opening ang whirring all around you, this man really doesn’t waste any time. “Miguel,” you repeat. He ignores you.

“Miguel!” You shout, assuming he couldn’t hear you over all the scrambling and shouting.

“Miguel!” He begins typing coordinates on his watch until a portal appears behind him. “Whatever you have to say, it can wait until after I fix this, ” he turns to step through the portal.

“Miguel O’Hara! Look at me!”

- - -

Miguel paused with his back to you. He let his head fall back as he heaved a strong, guttural sigh with slumped shoulders. You sounded just like her. Well, of course you did, you were her. Only you would use his full name like that when you were frustrated with him.

He stood there gazing at the ceiling for a few seconds before grudgingly sliding his hands down the front of his face and letting them fall to his sides. He slowly turned towards you.

“Yes.” he said, clearly agitated.

He didn't mean to sound rude, but he really didn't have time for this. He had seen first hand how things like this turn out. He saw it himself. He saw it with Gabi. And he saw it with you. Nonetheless, he looked you in the eyes and felt a sting in his chest seeing you in this nervous state. Your breath was shaky, panicky almost, “We’re all going to lose someone? Every one of us.” It broke his heart. You sounded the same as the day he lost you.

“Yes, all of us. Look,” he stepped closer to you and fought the urge to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Losing people is what makes us-”

“-Tell me it isn’t my niece.”

“What?”

“Miguel.” You struggled to steady your trembling hands you held out in front of you. “Tell me. Tell me it isn’t-Tell me you didn’t know this whole time.”

He instinctively reached his hands out to hold you but stopped. Every time he’s near you it’s like he’s fighting his very nature. Fighting tooth and nail the urge to pull you close to his chest, stroke your hair, and tell you everything was going to be alright, and that he would take care of you. He keeps forgetting you aren’t the same. Well, you were the same, but it wasn’t the same. Not because you were a spider woman, but because you weren’t his. Because he wasn’t yours. Not since the day he failed to save you. Not since the day he watched you die.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. He couldn’t bring himself to lie to you. He knew you loved your niece. You would dote on her like she was your own child, he would know. You boasted of her achievements like they were yours, pulling up her baby pictures every now and then forcing Miguel to gush over them with you. You were the same way with Gabi. ‘I guess you’re just naturally a good mother’ he thought to himself and it never failed to make him smile. So how could he have possibly told you? How could he explain? He couldn’t. So he stayed silent. Lowering his head to avoid the guilt that your unforgiving stare bore into him.

“You cannot be serious.”

“It’ll happen years from now. Cariño, listen to me, there’s no way-”

“-Don’t cariño me.”

“I’m doing this for you.” Fuck. “For us.” Double Fuck. “I mean- I- This is for the good of the entire multiverse.”

“There just-,” your voice caught in your throat. You swallow hard before closing the space between you too, placing two balled fists on his chest while looking up at him with glossy eyes . “There has to be another way.” He lifted his hands to gently cradle your elbows, prompted by the burning in his stomach upon seeing you so distressed.

There was only one other time he saw you with this exact look on your face.

And so Miguel O’Hara found himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Never had he ever anticipated something he would put above the needs of the multiverse. Not since he lost you. But now that he “had” you…

“If you think I'm going to help you, you’re out of your mind O’Hara.”

You stepped back, removing your hands from his front. Your pleading gaze now mixed with wounded determination. He could practically feel you slipping through his fingers all over again.

Miguel had half a mind to beg on his hands and knees if he had to, just to keep you by his side. Where he could protect you. Where he’d know you’d be safe. He quickly regained his composure and bit his cheek. He didn’t always like what he had to do.

“Then don’t,” he spat, turning around to avoid your gaze. " Layla, keep her here and don’t let her leave under any circumstances.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” the A.I. said unenthusiastically.

You make a break towards the portal before he tosses a trapping device at your feet, confining you to the same barrier that held the distraught teen no less than an hour ago.

“Miguel! Miguel stop!” you yelled and slammed all your weight against the electronic prison, but it was no use.

He stepped through the portal and sighed, releasing the tension in his body he didn’t realize he was carrying. Never had he ever encountered something he would put above the needs of the multiverse. Not even you, he told himself. You were part of the initial accident that led to him building this empire in the first place.. So naturally only you could get him to pause and reconsider even if only for a second. Because after losing Gabi, it was only you he was doing all of this for. You were the reason he swore to protect the multiverse.

You and only you.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman

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esperr · 10 months

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How long did king REALLY stay in his egg

My theory :

Ig this is a question lots of fans have, and something fans theorize about which I didn’t really know until recently. I had a really fun conversation about this theory so I decided to write my entire theory!! At first I thought maybe the egg was dormant and only started developing later, BUTTTT if you consider the fact the king says he heard a great roar that came from his father and papa titan definitely died like millions of years ago- that probably isn’t the case. If you think about it a creature THAT BIG would take a MASSIVE amount of time to fully decay, and then it would also take a long time for the titans body to be able to grow trees and grass and other stuff on its bones, to become inhabited. Bonesborough also had to be built, which would take a-lot of time. We also have to take into consideration that all that happened before belos arrived onto the boiling isles and in present time he’s been there for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years.

I think that it simply took a REALLY long time for the titan egg to develope/hatch. It’s not uncommon for really powerful or mythical creatures’ eggs to take a super long time to hatch, for example in the dragon prince zym’s egg had roughly a decade of incubation time (according to the fandom wiki) and took even longer after that egg to develop and hatch.

Since papa titan and the rest of the titans were killed off millions of years ago, and king claims to have heard his dads voice he had to have been already a little bit developed inside the egg. (Or maybe the roar was both papa titan’s death and kings creation) It probably took a millennia or so for him to fully develop and hatch, and we have no idea how long he was in the tower after having hatched. We also don’t know what kings canon age is, although many people believe he is implied to be 8-9 years old. The fact that titans grow to be such a large size could also contribute the why king took so long to hatch

So in conclusion, it just took a really long time for king to hatch, thank you for coming to my Ted talk

#the owl house #toh #toh theory #king clawthorne #papa titan #toh spoilers

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mysticstronomy · 2 years

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WHERE ARE THE ALIENS??

Blog#244

Saturday, November 12th, 2022

Welcome back,

The Fermi Paradox seeks to answer the question of where the aliens are.

Given that our solar system is quite young compared to the rest of the universe — roughly 4.5 billion years old, compared to 13.8 billion — and that interstellar travel might be fairly easy to achieve given enough time, Earth should have been visited by aliens already, the idea goes.

The paradox takes its name from Nobel Prize-winning physicist Enrico Fermi, who supposedly made the above points during a casual lunchtime conversation in 1950. And the implications have had astrobiologists and other scientists scratching their heads in the decades since.

"Fermi grasped that any civilization with a modest amount of rocket technology and an immodest amount of imperial incentive could rapidly colonize the entire galaxy," representatives of the Search For Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI) Institute in Mountain View, California, wrote in a Fermi Paradox explainer. "Within a few tens of millions of years, every star system could be brought under the wing of empire. Tens of millions of years may sound like a long project, but in fact it’s quite short compared to the age of the galaxy, which is roughly a thousand times more."

Fermi died in 1954, so exploration and explication of the idea fell to other people, such as Michael Hart, who wrote an article titled "An explanation for the absence of extraterrestrials on Earth" in the Royal Astronomical Society (RAS) Quarterly Journal in 1975.

(Some say this is the first such paper to explore the Fermi Paradox, although this claim is a bit hard to prove.)

"We observe that no intelligent beings from outer space are now present on Earth," Hart wrote in the paper's abstract. "It is suggested that this fact can best be explained by the hypothesis that there are no other advanced civilizations in our galaxy."

He noted, however, that more research in biochemistry, planetary formation and atmospheres was needed to better narrow down the answer.

Hart argued that intelligent aliens could already have visited Earth at some point in our planet's history, unless they started their journey less than two million years ago. He thought the apparent lack of such visits is most likely due to the lack of intelligent aliens. But he outlined four other potential explanations as well:

Aliens never came here because of a physical difficulty "that makes space travel infeasible," which could be related to astronomy, biology or engineering.

Aliens simply chose never to visit us.

Advanced civilizations beyond Earth arose too recently for aliens to reach us.

Aliens have visited Earth in the past, but we have not observed them.

Frank Tipler, a professor of physics at Tulane University, followed up on Hart's argument in 1980 with a paper titled "Extraterrestrial intelligent beings do not exist," also published in the RAS Quarterly Journal. The bulk of his paper dealt with how to get resources for interstellar travel, which he suggested could be achieved by having some kind of self-replicating artificial intelligence move from star system to star system, creating copies of itself as it traveled.

Since evidence of such advanced machinery has never been found on Earth, Tipler argued that we are likely the only intelligence out there.

He also wrote in the 1980 paper that those who believe in extraterrestrial intelligence are similar to UFO (unidentified flying object) enthusiasts, because both camps believe "we are going to be saved from ourselves by some miraculous interstellar intervention."

Today, the topic of extraterrestrial intelligence is a popular one, with multiple papers appearing every year from different research groups. And the idea that advanced civilizations may exist beyond Earth has been buoyed by the ongoing exoplanet revolution.

Originally published on www.space.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, November 16th, 2022)

“WHAT IS THE OLBERS’ PARADOX??”

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #spacecraft #universe #white universe #parallel universe #space #astrophotography

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forabeatofadrum · 1 year

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@cerriddwenluna replied to your post “got some news from home which my mind immediately...”:

Mostly dead or all dead?

OKAY SO, y'all know my grandma died around a year ago. My grandma was a hoarder (affectionate). During her life, she collected glass perfume bottles. Now she's gone, and the family is left with thousands of perfume bottles. Thousands. I am not kidding. A lot of (wat de fuck is "nabestaanden" in het Engels?) nabestaanden have gotten some as a memory of her. I have four on my windowsill. We've sold some, cause throwing them away feels kind of wrong. As in, yeah, gran dead, let's kick out her life's work! So we sold some, because we'd rather make other collectors who can appreciate it happy. But, as my family has noticed after a year, daar is geen beginnen aan. Basically, throwing them away is really the easiest, but again, that feels bad. We have no use for them, but it really was her life's work, some of her most prized possessions.

(I have a fic-related point. Bear with me.)

Today I got the news that apparently a castle wants the perfume bottles. I do not know the details, so I don't know if my family is selling or donating, or if the castle wants all of them, or only a couple of hundred, but basically a castle wants them for a museum. They will display her name and present it in an exhibition and I may or may not have almost cried. The idea of having a woman's life work portrayed like that. She is dead, gone, deceased, and yet her work lives on. It is so insignificant on a large scale, yet still significant in its own way. Ever since my uncle died in 2020 and my grandma died in 2022 I have been thinking about legacy and what not, and how we have all these things, but how in a couple of years times, personal belongings of deceased people will be of value because they teach something about ordinary life. For example, I also inherited a book from my grandma. It was written in, I think, the 1860s and it is a dissertation on the first constitution of the Netherlands and I don't give a shit about law, but the fact that this man's dissertation ended up in my grandma's house and that I was able to find him online (geboorteakte, overlijdingsakte, you know) is spectacular. And that I was moved. That I was sad to see he died relatively young. And you may have heard that there's a exhibition on class photo's somewhere. I saw it on het Jeugdjournaal. You know, that kind of stuff? That really moves me. That I can go to an exhibition that displays stranger's belongings and that I can be moved by the thought that they were there, and that they mattered, and the fact that it's happening to my grandma... oh BOy.

And because I am me, and because I still use Klaine fanfiction as the way to express myself (I mean, I didn't write River fic for nothing), I came up with a fic idea of Kurt anno 2023 going to a fashion exhibition and there he finds a massive, massive bow tie collection from the (recently?) deceased B.D. Anderson and he is so moved in the way that I am moved that he is compelled to find out more about this B.D. Anderson. As in, the fic will express what I feel now, and how legacy is being held up, or how useless things can become meaningful as time passes. Basically how Kurt learns about Blaine's life. It starts by thinking: "Damn, who is this B.D. Anderson who collected a shit ton of bowties during his long life?" and how he becomes invested in this story, the same way I can get invested in learning about ordinary people who have died, in the same way someone might get invested in my grandma's life.

But, uh, yeah, Blaine is dead, totally fucking dead-dead, in this idea and if he weren't, then he'd still be way too fucking old for Kurt. Maybe this is going nowhere. Maybe I will find a way. Who knows. But that's what was on my mind.

#WOAH OKAY I DIDNT EXPECT TO DROP THIS ON YOU GWEN #replies #cerriddwenluna #story ideas

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yannowhatigiveup · 3 years

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T.W.A.A: The Eccedentesiast

This is a one shot I started last night and I finished it at around 2 am because I’m an insomniac. Sadly this isn’t the 10k+ word one shot I was talking about (I’m still writing it aaa) but this one is around 4-5k words long so I hope you enjoy. This is rushed, badly written, badly plotted and badly named.

TW: Dark topics such as sexual assault and suicide is mentioned in this piece of writing.

Paris, the City of Love, what a big misconception that was. If anything, Paris should've been labeled as the City of Misery considering the fact it was haunted by a villain who preyed on negative emotions. No one outside of Paris knew though, they were oblivious to the fact hundreds, thousands even millions had died in the city home to the Eiffel Tower, only to be resurrected and tormented with the memories of their death. It was worse for Marinette though, she had watched all the citizens, her beloved citizens, die before her eyes and she was powerless to help them. Their screams of anguish and cries of pain forever ghosted her nightmares. It wasn't just their blood that she drowned in, she was bullied, abused and betrayed in her civilian form by those she trusted the most.

Her classmates. She thought she could trust them but they left her for someone shinier and newer. They all hurt her, destroyed her hard work, verbally and physically bullied her. Nino and Kim, her childhood friends had turned their backs on her too, even joining the others in causing her physical and emotional pain. Alya, her best friend, had become her main abuser. The reporter stabbed the poor bluenette in the back, figuratively. Lila was the one who did it literally. Lila, the sound of the name itself made Marinette sick, after all, the brunette was the one who did this to her. She made her friends turn their backs on her, she made them abuse her and she only watched with fake crocodile tears and a smug smile when no one was looking. And Adrien, he was the worst of all. When Marinette was younger, Adrien was the embodiment of perfection. But now? All she could see was a spineless coward and a predator.

As Chat Noir, he wouldn't participate in the battles, only flirting with her hero persona. He would whine like a toddler when she rejected his advancements. Even when he did join in the battles, he was useless, ignoring anything that Ladybug would tell him and go straight for the kill which never worked. Chat Noir was incompetent and a sexual harasser. As Adrien, however, he was much more. Just two days ago, he had tried to sexually assault the young bluenette. The blonde had underestimated the girl and she managed to get away but nothing could erase her memory of the event.

The ultimatum Lila had delivered to Marinette when she thirteen seemed over-dramatic and seemingly impossible at the time. Yet three years later, she was at the point of no return. Her classmates, her friends, her teachers, the boy she once loved, her partner, her parents. They all left her. Mayor Bourgeois, fearing for his daughter's safety, had sent Chloe to New York with her mother. Luka was on tour with his father so they could build a better relationship. Kagami had a family affair back in Japan that would last for at least a month. She was truly alone. Her parents had fallen victim to Lila's lies and Marinette overheard them discussing about kicking her out. The only one by her side throughout the whole ordeal was Tikki, her beloved kwami. Even Master Fu had to leave her.

Marinette felt shut out by the rest of the world. Sure, Paris adored Ladybug but it felt different. She was fighting battles alone, she stood as the last survivor, the last protector of Paris. She took that title in stride, or that's what the Parisians thought. In reality, she was hiding behind a mask.

The bluenette had suffered endlessly for years, she was ready to break that cycle of torture. Yesterday, she came to the solid conclusion of who Hawkmoth was, who is accomplices were and what his motive was. Gabriel Agreste was the man behind Paris' torment, Nathalie Sancœr was one of his accomplices and so was Lila Rossi. For his motive, he wanted to bring his wife back. Marinette understood the pain he was in but she wouldn't go to such extreme lengths as he did. Many years ago, Marinette made a friend, one of her very best friends who she fell for. But she never told anyone who he was, where he came from or even the fact that she met someone. The reason behind this was the fact she witnessed his murder. That death, of all she witnessed, was the most heartbreaking. Even when all these years have passed, she never truly got over his death. His green eyes always lingered her mind.

The bluenette let out an anguished sigh, she was on the Eiffel Tower, admiring the city's skyline despite all its obvious flaws under close inspection. Though Marinette had drastically mentally changed, she would always put on the same mask, she would always portray herself as a regular school girl. This was the one time she felt a little peace in her chaotic excuse for a life. Her blue eyes stared off into the distance, focusing on nothing in particular when she heard footsteps coming from behind. In her peripheral vision, Marinette could see the figure of Gabriel Agreste slowly approaching. Not wanting anything to happen, she made her knowledge of her appearance known.

"I never expected to see you somewhere so public, Monsieur Agreste" Her voice remained neutral. Gabriel didn't flinch meaning that he had expected her to sense his arrival, it made the young girl slightly unnerved but she refused to show it.

"The Eiffel Tower holds the greatest inspiration, as a designer yourself I'm sure you are aware" Marinette was used to his cold voice by now, she kept her guard up reminding herself that this was Hawkmoth was standing a few feet away.

She hummed, putting the two miraculous users in a deathly silence, until she decided to break it. "You know, you could've just asked" The older man raised an eyebrow in confusion but Marinette never looked in his direction, "It would've saved a lot of bloodshed"

Gabriel managed to catch up with what she was saying. "Are you implying that I am Hawkmoth?" He didn't sound offended or defensive, merely curious.

"I'm not implying anything" She replied curtly, then turning to face him. "I am merely stating a fact"

The miraculous user turned away from her, focusing his gaze on the city's skyline once more. "What are you going to do with this knowledge?"

The question confused Marinette, surely he would've attacked her or try to get her to remain silent?

He must've noticed her confusion. "Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't say anything"

Marinette turned her full body towards the taller man, she was going to end Hawkmoth's reign as quickly as she could. "I can heal her"

"What?"

"I can heal her" The bluenette repeated. "Emilie"

Gabriel also turned to face her, his usual cold scowl was replaced with a staggered expression. "Y-you can? Even after all I've done as Hawkmoth?"

Her head twisted back to portrait that was Paris. "To end it all, yes I will"

"Then please, follow me and I promise I will give you my miraculous as well as Mayura's. Just, heal my wife please" His tone changed from intrigued to pleading, Marinette could see that he meant every word.

"Oh don't worry... I will"

~~~

"I did it!" Tim's voice echoed in the Batcave.

"Did what replacement?"

"I found Hawkmoth's identity!"

Around three months ago, Wonder Woman had noticed Green Lantern trying to delete a video. She stopped him before he successfully did the task and watched the video herself, calling a meeting to express her anger about the situation. Most were shaken since they had never seen the Amazonian this livid before. She briefly explained how her mother was once a miraculous user and how powerful these magical jewelry could be. Aqua Man also shared his concerns, revealing that the fall of Atlantis was due to the miraculous. They knew the logical decision was to work on this from outside of Paris, the villain preyed on negative emotions and they had been ignoring the Parisians' calls for help for four years. Their sudden appearance would definitely trigger the heroes. So in the last month, they had gathered files of nearly every person in Paris as well as all the necessary information about every akuma attack. It was tiring for the Bats but they trudged through it anyway.

Damian had taken a special interest in the spotted-heroine specifically, without the knowledge of any of his family members. She appeared similar to a female friend he had made quite some time ago, the one who had witnessed an assassination attempt on him. He saddened him to no end knowing that the friend he loved thought he was dead. The green-eyed boy became one hundred percent convinced that this hero was his friend.

One day, Dick had caught him in the Batcave observing a recently taken image of the Ladybug heroine. His older brother thought that Damian was crushing on the lady and began to tease him as others entered the cave.

"Tt, that's not true" the green-eyed boy retaliated.

"If you don't have a crush on Ladybug then why are you staring at an image of her?" Dick added more information necessary so that his younger brothers could join in on teasing his youngest brother.

The Robin vigilante sighed and brought everyone's attention to the screen. "See that?"

"All I see is this little lady Demon Spawn" Jason's smirk was quickly gone when he noticed Damian's serious expression.

"She's alone" he stated simply and before anyone could get a word in, her explained further. "There is usually a team with her"

Everyone seemed to lean closer to the screen.

"She's fighting alone. Her 'partner' doesn't participate in the battles anymore, he stays on the sidelines, observing" He let the others catch up to what he was saying. "The attacks have been lasting a lot longer than usual, Ladybug leads a super hero team correct? Then why is she fighting alone this time."

"They could have all been killed... We have to go to Paris to help the poor girl" Dick turned to Bruce. "Who knows how much longer she'll last alone fighting a psycho butterfly man!"

Bruce's fatherly instincts were screaming at him from merely looking at the photo. "I'll announce to the League that we'll be joining the fight in Paris"

~~~

Gabriel lead Marinette to his office, Nathalie wearily watching. Just as he was about to open the double doors, his assistant collapsed in uncontrollable coughing. Marinette was much faster than the older man so she got to the woman first. The bluenette carefully put Nathalie down on one of the chairs available while putting her hand on where she thought the assistant would where the peacock brooch. The blue-eyed girl could sense the broken miraculous' energy trapped in the woman so she did the only reasonable thing she could at that moment, she extracted the corrupted magic, healing Nathalie almost instantly. Marinette ignored Gabriel's relieved expression and gestured for him to lead her to Emilie.

"When this is over, I wish to have a restraining order against your son"

"May I ask why?"

"..."

"...I understand, I'll make sure to tell Nathalie"

The older man stopped before a painting of his wife, his fingers reached for the painted shapes and pressed on them, revealing an elevator to which he went down in. Following his motion, Marinette placed her hand on the painting and allowed herself to descend down the mansion. It lead her to a repository with a catwalk which lead to a circular platform covered in luscious greenery. In the middle on the platform was a class-covered cryogenic pod which the sleeping body of Emilie Agreste lay. The bluenette carefully made her way to the glass casket, placing her hand on the transparent material when she finally reached her destination. Focusing all her energy, a red light erupted from her finger tips and it soaked into Emilie's skin. Gabriel opened the pod, carefully watching his wife as Marinette took a step back. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open.

"G-Gabriel, what happened?"

The man didn't reply, he simply hugged the woman of his dreams before turning the the young girl.

"I... Thank you Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, I can give you the miraculous now if-"

"Ladybug will be at the Eiffel Tower soon, I suggest you give the miraculous to her then"

Gabriel nodded and thanked the girl once more as she left. Before she reached the lift that would lead her back up to Gabriel's office, Marinette turned to face the newly reunited couple.

"Enjoy the happiness in your life, Monsieur Agreste, you never know when it may end"

She then turned to leave, not wanting to here what her former idol had to say. When she reached the main floor of the Agreste Mansion, Marinette was greeted by Nathalie. The bluenette acknowledged the assistant with a nod, meaning that Emilie was awake. The assistant let out a sigh of relief and rushed to Adrien's room, not wanting to be around the blonde boy, Marinette promptly left. Once out of the premises of the mansion, she transformed and waited for Gabriel to return the miraculous. What she didn't realise was that the Justice League would also be coming to pay her a visit.

It felt like an eternity, waiting for the miraculous to be handed back to her but the bluenette was patient. She waited four years for this moment, but she had to share the moment alone. It was bittersweet. Soon enough Gabriel arivied, hastily giving Ladybug both the brooches with apologetic eyes and leaving without a word. The spotted heroine presumed that he wanted to get back to his wife and son, she couldn't blame him. Ladybug reached for her yo-yo teary-eyed, she was going to put both miraculous in her weapon before returning them in the miracle box but she stopped when she heard multiple figures approaching where she was standing.

~~~

Batman and his sons were the ones to go to Paris and alert Ladybug of their findings. The five men found themselves in front of the Eiffel Tower, Tim found out that was were the heroes would return to after their patrol.

"We must tell Ladybug right away" Batman pulled out his grappling hook and flung himself to one of the higher levels, all but Robin followed suit.

The vigilante had a feeling to remain on a lower level. He wanted to be reunited with his long lost friend but he couldn't find the words. Simply, he used his grappling hook to bring him onto one of the beams, low enough so he couldn't be seen but high enough to hear any conversation.

"Greetings, Ladybug" His father's voice echoed through the quiet building.

"Monsieur Batman? Wh-what are you doing here?" Her voice sounded almost exactly as he remembered, of course it sounded deeper and more matured but it had a more desolated edge to it.

~~~

"We apologize for not intervening earlier but we didn't know how well we needed to control our emotions" Red Hood watched as Nightwing brushed a hand through his hair nervously.

"But we can help now!" Red Robin's excited voice came out of nowhere, Ladybug looked at the vigilante in surprise. "We found out Hawkmoth's identity so we can finish this once and-"

Ladybug put a single hand up, a small smile on her face, silencing Red Robin's rambling. "That's very considerate of you, all of you" Her gaze landed on each vigilante one at a time. "But I... have things sorted" She pulled out two brooches from behind her back to show the men before putting the miraculous in her yo-yo. "I appreciate all you've done, truly I do. But can I ask one for one more favor?"

"Of course, what is it?" Nightwing asked, clearly wanting the spotted heroine to be gleeful once more.

"Could you... help the other heroes to help the Parisians to heal?"

"It's the least we can do" Batman replied. "Will you be there too?"

"I'm afraid not" Ladybug turned around and leaned forward on the banister. "You know how Hawkmoth prays on negative emotions, so I've had to deal with my emotions in an unhealthy manor but now... Hawkmoth is no more. I can be free"

"Wh-"

"Thank you, truly" Ladybug jumped up on to railing, facing the group of vigilantes. Her sad smile faded as she stared at the floor.

They didn't even get a chance to process what was happening before it did. A bright light surrounded the young hero and they were forced to close their eyes. As the light died down, Red Hood saw a small bluenette. She looked so weak, so pretty, so... fragile. It hurt the vigilante's heart seeing someone like this being the sole protector of Paris with no one by her side.

"Hey little lady-"

"I'm sorry Tikki"

The girl looked at all the vigilantes slowly, mouthing a 'thank you' before letting herself lean backwards.

Gravity took the Parisian heroine and she fell.

A small creature holding something shiny stared in horror as its owner fell."MARINETTE!" The small creature's anguished scream seemed to bring the vigilantes back to reality.

~~~

"MARINETTE!"

Robin's head shot up, that name was all too familiar. Suddenly, he took note of a figure falling fast from above, her raven hair flowing in the wind. Without giving a second thought, he bounded down the ledge he was on, landing on one of the platforms and had his arms out ready to catch the fallen angel. The bluenette was close enough for Robin to grab her and he pulled her in so that her feet landed on the platform, her body still looming over the edge of the building. His brother and father landed not far from him, bounding over to help the bluenette but Robin took no notice of their presence.

"Why didn't you just let me f...all" The girl's voice trailed off as her eyes widened in recognition, the air in her lungs escaped from her lips. "...d-Damian?"

The two friends took no notice at how the vigilantes behind Robin stiffened. Her eyes developed a watery sheen as the situation began to really hit her. Tears threatened to spill as her lip quivered. Robin pulled her away from the ledge and she jumped into his arms, she was heavily touch-starved. Much to his family's surprise, he didn't push her away. In fact, he hugged her back. They heard what she said next.

"I... I thought you were dead, Dami"

"...why? What made you do this, Malaki?"

They didn't hear what she said next as her mumbling was muffled in Robin's chest. Nightwing walked up to the two first, kneeling down to be eye level with the girl.

"Hey Sunshine... we don't know what you've been through but we're willing to help you though it okay?" The girl looked at his sincere gaze, her eyes were so round with innocence, Nightwing thought he would melt.

"I... thank you, I'm sorry for worrying you when I... jumped" No one failed to notice when Robin ran his fingers through the bluenette's hair.

"Don't apologize Little Lady" Red Hood walked over to where Nightwing was kneeling, sitting next to his older brother. "Hawkbitch forced you to bottle up your emotions, you were just strong for too long."

Marinette looked between the two men, a grateful smile on her face while she wiped the tears of pure happiness running down her cheeks. "Thank you, I- this... this is the nicest I've been treated recently"

"If you don't mind me asking," Batman walked over and Marinette felt slightly intimidated you his presence as well as his tone. The dark knight must have noticed this since he cleared his throat and began talking in a softer manner. "What happened to cause you to go to such extremes? You're obligated to not having to talk about it right away if the subject makes you uncomfortable"

"Well I guess I do have to talk about it eventually..."

Recognising the bluenette's discomfort, Red Robin stepped in. In his palm was the shaken kwami who flew straight for Marinette once the vigilante got close enough. "Since you know Robin's identity, and we already sorta know yours, it's only fair if we tell you who we are, right?" He looked at his two older brothers and then at his adoptive father. "My name's Tim Drake nice to meet you"

Marinette was about to take his offered hand when the vigilante she presumed was Red Hood took it instead, "Jason Todd, Robin's most charming and handsome brother" She giggled at Damian's obvious annoyance.

"Well I'm Richard Grayson, Robin's favourite brother, but you can call me Dick" The vigilante in the suit who comforted her first, introduced himself.

"It's nice to meet all of you"

Batman soon came over as well to aquatint with the young heroine, offering out his hand for a handshake. "Bruce Wayne"

She returned the hand shake and brightly smiled, it blinded nearly all those near. "Thank you, Mr Wayne. Wait..." she turned to face Damian, one of her eyebrows raised. "Wayne?"

"I may have failed to mention that part" To Robin's surprise, Marinette started giggling so he huffed in taken offense.

"Sorry it's just- a girl in my class as been boasting about dating you and about the Wayne Family seeing her as their 'honorary member'. I knew she was lying I just didn't know that I would bump into the people she was lying about"

Bruce hummed. "We'll have to do something about this girl you're talking about. In the meantime, why don't you come back to the hotel with us? You and Damian can catch up" The older man saw the hesitation in her eyes but he also saw the willingness that shine through the most. "If you're living in a bad environment then you do have to escape" His sons nodded along.

"I'll come, can I bring some overnight clothes? It's been a long day..."

"Of course, you go get your belongings and you can meet us at the Grand Paris Hotel"

"I... thank you again" She transformed and headed in the direction of her house, leaving Robin at the mercy of his brothers.

"You like her, Brat" Red Robin spoke up first.

Nightwing pretended to wipe his tears. "Baby Bird's all grown up now"

"That means you can't adopt the little Pixie, don't think I haven't seen the adoption papers"

~~~

When Marinette destransformed on her balcony rooftop, she quickly went inside, packed some clothes as well as some essentials. When she was satisfied with her belongings, she gave a macaron to Tikki before heading downstairs where she was met with two disappointed looking parents.

"Is something wrong?"

"We've decided," Tom began. "We're kicking you out for what you've done to your lovely classmate, Lila"

"We don't recognise the person you've become, Marinette. You are not the daughter we raised" Sabine added

"May I pack my things in the morning?" Marinette inquired, her eyes void of emotion. When her parents nodded, she left the bakery and down to the hotel where Damian was waiting in the lobby. As she approached, he took her bag and intertwined their hands together. She blushed at the contact but leaned into his embrace.

When she entered the hotel room she was greeted by the vigilantes who were now changed and unmasked. The bluenette was welcomed with open arms, she felt the warmth in her heart for the first time since Lila's Tyranny. She briefly explained Lila's lies, what she had done to Marinette and how the bluenette was able to protect Paris. She would've carried on longer if it weren't for the hotel phone ringing. It was the receptionist, saying that someone had asked to see Marinette. Confused, she went down with Damian, Jason followed closely behind since he had grown quite attached to the little fairy. Waiting at the front desk as a woman, Damian and Jason recognised her instantly as Mayura. Damian tried to step in front of his friend but she completely ignored their futile attempts to keep her in reach.

"Ah, Hello Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng"

"Hello Nathalie, we're you the one who asked for me?"

"Yes, I just need to clarify a few things"

"Go ahead"

"You're request for the restraining order has been fulfilled" the bluenette nodded, waiting for Gabriel's assistant to continue. "May I ask what did he do to make you request for it?"

The two notices how Marinette stiffened. She contemplated before sighing. "Attempted sexual assault. If you look at the camera footage outside of the Louvre from two days ago, seven pm onwards, you'll see your evidence." Marinette turned away from Nathalie and walked back to Damian who, once in range, pulled her in for a hug.

"I'll never let him near you again, Angel"

~~~

The next day, Bruce had shown up with Marinette at her parents' bakery. Upon hearing about the young bluenette being kicked out, he had asked for her permission for him to be her Guardian until she was old enough to live in her own. Marinette accepted his offer. When they had entered the building, her parents had greeted their customers kindly before recognising Marinette. Bruce turned to the young girl next to him and smiled.

"You go pack your things I'll deal with this" She smiled and bounded upstairs, leaving Bruce to talk with the bakery's owners.

"Hello Sir, how may we help you?" Sabine began, wanting to know who this man was.

"I've come to gain guardianship of your daughter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng"

"Why should we give you guardianship?" Tom asked.

"I'm sure you know the liability for child neglect, Mr Dupain" With his words, both adults seemed to turn white. "I will file the necessary and submit it with the court, I'm sure you'll be willing to give your approval"

Both Marinette and the mystery man left, true they were glad that their mistake of a daughter had gone but they wondered who she had gone with.

~~~

Later that afternoon was a charity event which the Waynes were supposed to attend as they were invited by the mayor himself, the plus side was that the Akuma class would also be attending and they had no clue the Wayne Family would be there.

"...And finally I'd like to thank the Wayne Family for joining us this evening" Mayor Bourgeois finished his speech and all heads turned to the table the Waynes and Marinette were sitting on. As his speech was over, a teenage girl with glass and a very pale brunette came over to the table.

"Hello Mr Wayne, My name's Alya and I'm your honorary daughter's best friend and I was hoping-"

"Marinette" Bruce began, cutting off the aspiring reporter. The Alya girl only then seemed to notice that the bluenette was sitting at the table. "Is this girl you're friend?"

The bluenette took one hard look at Alya before shaking her head, "No"

"Marislut what th-"

"It would be appreciated if you did not talk about my honorary daughter and future daughter-in-law on that manner" Both Damian and Marinette turned red, one much more than the other. "In fact we should be leaving" Bruce and the rest of the family got up. "Miss Rossi, I will not tolerate your lies. You will receive a lawsuit for defamation and slander. Have a good evening" They left, leaving a reporter, a liar and a class speechless.

When they reached the hotel room they finished packing up, they would be leaving that night. Marinette made a few phone calls, telling her friends that she would be moving to Gotham. They had their belongs taken to the limo downstairs and had a few snacks before making their way down. In the lobby were many different people around the bluenette's age, she recognised them as her classmates and continued walking beside Damian until Alex came over.

"Marinette... we're sorry. We understand that you probably won't forgive apps but we wrote you letters anyway" the skater girl gave Marinette a pile of enveloped letters, ones she put in her bag straight away.

"Thank you for your apologies but I don't think I can forgive you just yet, goodbye Alix" the bluenette got in the limo and let out a breath she knew she was holding.

Her eyes glanced out the tinted window, she smiled knowing that she was leaving Paris for a better life. A better life with a friends, a better life with a new family. A better life with Damian.

~Bonus~

The harsh blizzard outside was definitely being felt from inside the manor, leaving a cold and tired Marinette on the couch. Damian, noticing his girlfriend's state, went to grab a blanket to cover both Marinette and himself. She snuggled into the green-eyed boy, taking all the warmth she could get, and slowly she drifted off to sleep. Damian too felt drowsy so soon followed his girlfriend into dreamland.

Jason came in a few moments later to find the sleeping couple, he was then reminded by how tired he was so he went on the couch and leaned his back against his youngest brother, himself too falling victim to slumber.

The next person to walk in was Dick, he had just finished training so he was exhausted. But he couldn't help to coo when he came across the scene in front of him. The eldest son then got on the sofa and carefully leaned against Marinette, similar to what Jason had done with Damian. It didn't take long for him to join them in dozing off.

Tim arrived with a big cup of freshly made coffee, one which he was about to drink until he noticed his siblings all curled up on the couch sleeping. The co-CEO went back to the kitchen, left his cup of coffee then went to grab a blanket to join his family. Wrapping himself in a blanket burrito, Tim placed himself on the floor pressed up against sofa.

When Bruce returned home safely, he went to the main living room to see his children, and his future in-law who was basically his own by now, sleeping soundly with the TV still running. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off and grabbed his phone to take a picture. He planned on printing it out and having it framed in his study. Bruce sat on one of the armchairs, taking a book to read. If there was peace in the house, he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

#daminette #maribat #maridami #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #This is so bad I hate it and it started out good as well aaaaaaaa

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entity9silvergen · 3 years

Text

I recently asked reddit for some LGBT history from countries other than the US. Here’s what I got:

Germany

The Weimar Republic was surprisingly accepting of "alternative lifestyles."

During the Weimar Republic, Germany had a pretty active LGBTQ scene, with some major films and songs being produced, despite it still being illegal at the time. However, there was also a push to decriminalize homosexual behavior which sadly wasn't passed as the Nazis came to power.

This was based of two factors: after WW1 the authoritarian culture of Prussia sorta received a long overdue pushback. People were kinda sick of it, especially since these losers led them into a seemingly pointless war to begin with. Second: A LOT of men died in WW1 - and the army did not exactly prefer LGBT people. So with a lot of regular folks dead, the percentages of the total populace was sorta shifted. This also pushed the women's rights movements at the time for a similar reason.

Magnus Hirschfeld was helping trans people transition, crossdressers get crossdressing 'licenses', and generally advocating for and helping the LGBT community in the early 1900s in Germany. Nazis ended up raiding and burning down his research institute.

Hirschfeld was a gay polyamorous man. He was one of the first advocates for trans and gay rights but his work was destroyed by the Nazis.

The institute he headed even did the first modern gender affirming surgeries. The institute was destroyed and many people who were there (including the first known person to undergo complete MtF surgery) were killed by the nazis and the place was little more than bombed out ruins at the end of the war.

More information on the institute

Pre Nazi interwar Germany (Weimar Republic) was pretty open when it came to not only sexuality, but also gender identity. The Nazis put a stop to that & tried to destroy any & all research into either, but, for a brief moment, it was there.

Russia

Pretty sure all Russian LGBT history was erased before we even had a written language, but Russia almost got gay marriage legalized in the first soviet constitution (didn’t happen bc Stalin)

The early soviet period (pre-Stalin) is sometimes called “the first sexual revolution” as opposed to America’s “sexual Revolution” of the 60’s. Broad women’s suffrage, female employment and education, parental leave, advancement of GSM rights & decriminalization of abortion. This unfortunately did not stand the test of time & reactionary sentiment.

Additional Source

UK/ Britain/ England

The lead singer of Judas Priest is gay. The commenter’s father thought it was kinda funny because it didn’t match with his biker aesthetic, but the commenter doesn’t think he considered how much leather he wears on a daily basis

Hell bent for Leather was a track off Killing Machine. It was written by lead guitarist Glenn Tipton (who is straight), but it's fun to find alternative meanings in Priest songs. A second commenter likes to pretend a lot of the lyrics Halford sings are gayer than they actually are.

A couple people mentioned how uncomfortable it was seeing Ru Paul interact with British drag queens because he barely knows anything about British culture.

Ru Paul got angry that a British drag queen hasn’t seen the Golden Girls because “it’s gay culture” and then not five minutes later someone had to explain to him who Alan Turing was.

Alan Turing, who was an incredibly noteworthy figure (He made the Enigma codebreaker machine, which broke the code that was used by Nazis during the war and basically sped up the war by a significant margin. He also set the foundations for artificial intelligence, one achievement he was named for: the Turing Test), was homosexual and prosecuted multiple times because of it

Shakespeare was probably bisexual (some of his sonnets had homoerotic subtext/were sent to a younger man). Plus, Hamlet is gay as fuck.

Sonnet 46 was very gay. Here’s a link!

King James 1st was corrupt and used his position to promote his gay lover to higher positions than he should've gotten.

The 13 year old king James 6th of Scotland and 1st of England fell in love with a 37 year old catholic Franco Scottish man. The king gave the older man so much free shit that other lords started getting salty and his lover ended up converting to Presbyterianism out of loyalty to his young lover. He also fell in love with a man who ''was noted for his handsome appearance as well as his limited intelligence.''

Clearly James was into himbos, and women too.

He had a secret tunnel connecting his bedroom to George Villiers’s bedroom.

His relationship with Villiers was basically common knowledge and a source of much amusement and mockery. He also once said that his relationship with Villiers was equivalent to the relationship that Christ had with John the Baptist

Much more recently, there's obviously JKR and the banning of puberty blockers and Margaret Thatcher opposing LGBTQ+ rights by passing a law meaning you couldn't 'promote homosexuality'.

Prince Philip was a racist twat (and probably a huge homophobe knowing him).

Gay marriage only became legal in 2014.

The Wolfenden Report was published in 1957, and it recommended the decriminalization of homosexual acts between consenting adults. It was a huge topic of public debate, and ultimately led to the Sexual Offences act of 1967, which legalized sexual acts between consenting men aged 21 or over in England and Wales (sexual acts between women were never explicitly criminalized). Scotland decriminalized sex between men in 1980, and Northern Ireland in 1982.

For a totally batshit real-life bit of gay history, check out the show A Very English Scandal. It's about a politician, Jeremy Thorpe, who put a hit out on his former lover who was threatening to go public with the fact they had had a relationship.

Austria

Gay marriage was legalized in Austria about 3 years ago. The worst thing is that it'd have staid illegal if the Supreme Court wouldn't have jumped in and declare it to be unconstitutional.

Austria did have something called "partnership" which was where gay couples could officially register with the state as couples but not receive any of the benefits of married het people

They still have super backwards Transphobic laws requiring for example "real life experience" to get even diagnosed. Basically you're forced to be and live as feminine/masc as possible and a doctor them judges if you're femme or masc enough. It's torture

Australia had widespread, over 60% approval of gay marriage for well over a decade before the government legalized it. The governments were actually going against the people for a very long time by denying it.

Taiwan/ Hong Kong/ Mainland China

When Taiwan recently legalized gay marriage, their official statement was something along the lines that they were casting off Western-imposed values and returning to their own traditional values and the entire western lgbt community ridiculed them in a "if that's what you need to tell yourself" sort of way but it's actually the truth.

Prior to western colonization, the Imperial Chinese attitude toward sexuality was not dissimilar to Greco-Roman attitudes in that a man must marry a woman to beget legitimate heirs but whatever else he does on the side is his own business. It wasn't until Victorian colonizers came along and imposed homophobic attitudes on China that China started treating gays like abominations. In Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Mainland China, as indeed most of the world, homophobia is a western value imposed by colonizers.

Bonus history: there is an actual saying in Arabic that was in widespread use across the Middle East and North Africa for thousands of years from classical antiquity until European colonization. The saying goes "Women are for babies, [young men] are for fun."

The commenter specifies that this means “college-aged twinks,” not children

Another commenter speculates about when homophobia arose in China and how. They also add that in Rome, bottoms were stigmatized.

There’s a story of Emperor Ai of the Han dynasty & him cutting off his sleeve for his boyfriend

There is also a god worshipped in Taiwan, the Rabbit God Tu'er Shen, whose domain is managing love and sex between same-sex attracted people. He is meant to be the incarnation of a soldier from the 17th century, who fell in love with an imperial inspector and spied on him bathing, and was tortured and killed by that official because he was offended by the spying. A villager from the soldier's hometown dreamed that Tu'er Shen appeared to him and said that because his crime had been love, he had been appointed to manage the affairs of gay people. The villagers erected a secret temple to the soldier, and people have been praying to him ever since.

South Africa

South Africa became the first nation in the world to explicitly prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation in its constitution. It was also first country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2006. What really set them back for so long was apartheid.

There is some speculation that that Shaka Zulu was gay since he never took any wives

South Africa's post Apartheid constitution was the first in the world to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation in 1996.

South Africa was also the 5th country in the world and only country in Africa to legalize same sex marriage in 2005.

Even before that the Constitutional Court ruled that sexual orientation was not relevant when deciding child custody in 2002.

Transgender folks have been allowed to change their sex in the population registry since 2003.

Conversion therapy is not illegal yet and public opinion still needs some work.

Spain

In Spain gay marriage was legalized in 2005, now they are considered one of de gay-friendliest countries in the world. The commenter is a lesbian and has never been closeted or directly experienced discrimination for being a lesbian.

In July 2005, Spain became the third country in the world to explicitly legalize gay marriage, after a thirty-year struggle following the fall of Franco's dictatorship, during which most activism was carried clandestinely (as it was illegal).

From 2007 onwards, Spanish [binary] trans people can legally correct the name and sex fields of their IDs and currently, there's a push for a law that would allow for legal recognition of non-binary Spaniards.

Despite the dictatorship in the 60s, there were cinemas that specialized in gay meet ups. Trans women also had ways to get passports so they could go to the US for surgery.

Ireland

In Northern Ireland, same sex marriage only became legal in 2020 and the leader of the most popular party is homophobic transphobic racist and sexist af. In fact, the majority of the party are but some of the quotes from the biggest party leader are depressing.

Same-sex marriage was only legalized in Ireland in 2015. Homosexuality was decriminalized in 1993.

When Ireland legalized same sex marriage by popular vote in 2015, it was still something you got horribly bullied for in schools if you were out. Queer people got an apology from the Taoiseach in 2018, for the suffering and discrimination we faced from the State prior to the legalization of homosexuality.

In the case of trans rights, in 2015 the Gender Recognition Act was signed into law. It allows legal gender changes without the requirement of medical intervention or assessment by the state as long as you are over the age of 18.

Ireland has fines and jail time for anyone found guilty of attempting conversation therapy.

Ireland has seen a lot of progress in LGBT rights in the last 6 years but even up to the 2000s, citizens left their family members and friends to rot for being LGBT+. It still happens all over the country, especially in circles that are still fanatically Catholic. As the Catholic Church has lost the iron grip on the country, people have become more accepting of the LGBT+.

India

The Kamasutra(ancient text on sexuality etc.) has an entire chapter dedicated to homosexuality

The Arthashastra, a 2nd century BCE Indian treatise on statecraft, mentions a wide variety of sexual practices which, whether performed with a man or a woman, were sought to be punished with the lowest grade of fine. While homosexual intercourse was not sanctioned, it was treated as a very minor offence, and several kinds of heterosexual intercourse were punished more severely.

Sex between non-virgin women incurred a small fine, while homosexual intercourse between men could be made up for merely with a bath with one's clothes on, and a penance of "eating the five products of the cow and keeping a one-night fast"

Milk, curd (cheese), ghi (clarified butter), urine, and dung are the five products of a cow

The commenter adds that this is not a terrible punishment.

The Mughal Empire mandated a common set of punishments for homosexuality, which could include 50 lashes for a slave, 100 for a free infidel, or death by stoning for a Muslim

On 6 September 2018 the Supreme Court of India invalidated part of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code making homosexuality legal in India

Prior to the British colonization of India homosexuality was not all that looked down upon when compared to what happened when the British took over and instituted anti gay laws.

The Hijra (literally means third gender) were seen as normal and have been accepted since long before Christ, as evidenced by the Karma Sutra. The British took videos of them to take back to demonstrate how the Desi were “barbaric”.

Bonsia

In Bosnia, there was a one pride parade that ended with religious extremists ruining it and the police not doing anything. It was supposed to be 5 maybe 3 days long but ended in like 1 or 2.

The Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe mapped out the entire night sky with only his eyes. It laid the foundations of many later scientists, such as Isaac Newton. He was a very rich nobleman, so much so that he owned 1% of Denmark's money. He had a pet dwarf that apparently could see the future, which sounds pretty gay. He was also part of the Elefant Ordning, which consisted of rich and strong Danish men.

Philippines

Despite many attempts to legalize same-sex marriage, the Philippines still didn't budge. Being gay in itself is legal, but same-sex marriage still isn't.

Philippines ,the most Catholic Country in Southeast Asia, has held the largest Pride Parade in Southeast Asia.

Serbia

Serbia didn't have history from about 16th century to 1800's when the 1st revolt happened and failed till 1813's... Then yet another in 1830's for semi independence from Turks, and full in 1836

During the last lingering Ottoman rule over autonomous Serbia, Serbia was one of the very first few countries to have legal mostly everything... it then got removed with like 3 constitution changes and then it didn't move forward for a looong time

Switzerland

Would you have thought that small, conservative Switzerland was a center of the international gay community during the mid-20th century? The magazine "Der Kreis"- the circle - was the only queer magazine in the world that kept publishing during WWII. It was edited in Zurich and distributed internationally, which often meant illegal smuggling, even into nazi Germany. The magazine's annual ball was attended by hundreds of gay men from all over Europe each year. The whole thing was kept strictly secret from the public, though it was known and tolerated by the police.

The Kreis club disbanded in 1967, as repressions grew heavier after a number of murders in the scene had caught the public's attention. By then, other European and American groups took its place, publishing their own magazines.

They made a movie about it.

More info about Der Kreis

As of today, Switzerland doesn't allow gay marriage. A country-wide referendum will be held this fall on gay marriage.

The commenter speculates that gay marriage will be legalized.

A few people expressed surprise that Switerland is socially conservative and several people explained that women’s right to vote was only place in the 70s.

There’s a movie about it

Turkey

A Muslim Persian (born in modern day Turkey) philosopher/mysticist named Mewlana who is known for his sayings on acceptance and love for one another was gay! He had exchanged letters with his instructor Shams and wrote homoerotic poems to him! In Turkey this is ignored by many due to the country's stance on homosexuality

More information

Norway

The commenter’s hometown and the neighboring town arranged their first pride parade/event in 2017, which is a big deal for a small place and one of the local priests went livid and went straight to the newspaper and social media to condemn it. A local rapper wrote a short and to the point article in the newspaper calling him out for all kinds of things which was a great read. Then to top it off, the priest arranged for a "Jesus Parade" in protest to be held the day before the pride parade. Only like five people walked in it, not including the priest of course because he happened to be on vacation in Spain that week. The pride parade itself was a success though! It's become an annual event. Covid has put some breaks on it though, but they're making a documentary this year about the pride celebrations.

Hungary

Hungary has no same sex marriage or transition rights

Police are unkind to protestors

During “commie times,” being queer was illegal so queer people went to the gulag

Belgium

Same sex marriage was legalized in Belgium in 2003 (right after the NL who were the first in the world). The commenter says that same-sex marriage has always felt possible and she is confused about other countries’ actions.

Poland

Polish president on public assembly: 'LGBT is not people, this is ideology'.

Denmark

WHO took their sweet time declassifying being transgender as a mental illness, so Denmark got sick of waiting and became the first country to stop classifying it as an illness.

Australia

In Australia same-sex marriage wasn't legal until 2017.

Portugal

Portugal is know for having one of the most (if not THE most) peaceful revolutions in history back in the 60's, with only 4 deaths total.

Canada

Operation Soap.

Mexico

To learn more, watch Dance of the 41 on Netflix.

Netherlands

NL was one of the first countries to legalize gay marriage in 2001

Sweden

In Sweden they used to classify Homosexuality as a disease during the 20th century so in protest people would call in too gay to work.

New Zealand

When same sex marriage was legalized, the parliament broke into song.

The song

Other

Homosexuality is illegal in 73 countries, some by death or life in prison.

Only one country in Asia has legalized same-sex marriage: Taiwan

FNAF is older than same-sex marriage in the US

Condor Operation

I think this is some important stuff so please reblog so more people can see! And, if you would like to add to or correct anything here, feel free to do so!

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blurglesmurfklaine · 3 years

Note

What picture are people on Twitter getting mad at Darren for??

this is beneath the cut because it got really long (sorry) and there are also trigger warnings for mentions of police brutality.

I honestly couldn’t find it if I tried because I deleted Twitter a while ago, and wouldn’t know how to Google it, but it’s basically a picture of him pretending to having sex with one of his friends who looks like he may or may not be sleeping? I saw the picture once, and I honestly couldn't tell, but it looked like he could be awake??? and Twitter is losing its fucking mind calling him a “rapist” and shit like that and demanding he apologize for a picture he didn’t even post! (His friend posted it)

Is it his most tasteful picture? No, but from what I understand it’s like seven years old and also clearly a joke??

I have a lot of qualms with cancel culture (it’s the reason Jenna Marbles left YouTube so I’m mad about that lol) but the biggest thing is that on Twitter, it never seems to be about actually educating people for the better, or a real pursuit of social justice. It’s always this race to be the most visibly “holier than thou” “politically correct” (which, if you ask me, sometimes goes so far left they make a circle and come around back to the right. Looking at you, misogynists who want to police what content (queer) women can and cannot consume). Their political justice pursuits never seem to be based on actually caring. And if it is, it’s just for attention.

For example, Darren recently apologized for a tweet some (and I will also say, most of the people demanding the apology were not black.) thought was racist or racially insensitive. When he replied to one of the loudest voices on Twitter who called for an apology, the person running the account subsequently tweeted shit like “omg he knows I’m alive” and talked about being in their “Darren notice” era.

Something similar happened yesterday and days before, when Derek Chauvin was found guilty on all charges for the murder of George Floyd. (Which even then, people would say things like “I’m so glad he was convicted” and assholes would reply: “so you’re glad a black man died?”)

Darren tweeted: “✊🏼”

That’s it, that’s the fucking tweet. And then people started demanding he delete it, and the other half demanding he apologize for it and calling him a “white supremacist”. (Which pisses me off even more because... Despite the fact that. He’s not fucking entirely white?? BUT I DIGRESS!!!)

Apparently, a white fist in the air is a symbol of white supremacy, and people were tweeting shit like “I’m so disappointed in you” “how can you stan him after something like this?” “I’m so disgusted” blah blah fucking blah.

First off, if you don’t know enough about Darren to know that he’s not a fucking white supremacist? God I don’t even know how to finish that lmao.

Second, if your breaking point is a god damn emoji, you need to get the fuck off the internet. Whenever I use the fist in the air emoji to show my solidarity for the BLM movement, I don’t use a black fist. Because I’m not fucking black. I use this one: ✊🏽 because I’m mexican. I’m brown (okay so I’m a little less brown since quarantine but give me a day in the sun and the melanin will come back my dudes). Darren is not black, he’s tan, so he used a tan fist to show his solidarity and I think the reaction from glee Twitter was honestly gross and disgusting and awful because guess what: you are taking attention away from the fact that Derek Chauvin, the murderer of a black man, was convicted, AND that a black child was murdered by the police, to yell at a Filipino-Irish man that he’s a white supremacist.

(I beleive he deleted the tweet and then people were calling him a coward for not owning up to it. so he truly cannot win lmao)

That’s where the fucking picture comes in. I could be wrong, because I only get bits and pieces from a group chat I’m in and I’m not actually on the site anymore, but after the emoji tweet is when the picture was dug up. A years old picture that he didn’t even post, just to incite more hate and pretentiousness and senseless polarization???

If you're so "dissapointed" and "disgusted" in him, then fucking leave. Go. Don't stan someone whose morals you so vocally don't agree with. You no NOT have to be a fan of someone who supposedly causes you so much distress.

I also never thought of it before a friend I met this summer pointed it out, but why do we act like celebrities have to be held to a higher moral standard than everyone else? Why are they not allowed to make mistakes, and learn and grow like the rest of us? Because they act or sing??? Lord knows I was ignorant as fuck in 2011 and it fucking SHOWS in my old posts and shit. The only difference is that I didn't have thousands of people watching my every move.

Like fuck. No wonder he never goes on social media anymore. I wouldn't either. i can't imagine how fucking overwhelming and anxiety inducing that is. Let him fucking breathe.

It’s stupid. It’s all stupid. I actually felt like I was having my brain fried on that app. No thank you, I’ll leave it to slow cook like a roast in crock pot here on tumblr thank you very much.

TL;DR: Twitter is up in arms about an old picture of Darren pretending to have sex with his friend and I don’t trust anything Twitter says anymore because everything on there is for clout.

#Darren Criss #ask #asks #anon #there are so many other things I hate about the fucking culture on that site but I’m jus glad to be back on tumblr #tw: police violence #tw: police brutality

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kozzax · 3 years

Text

so recently the folks over at @petrichormeraki have been working on a silent tommy au because of a few asks talking about mute!tommy. and one of the things that’s canon in that au is the fact that xisuma is the only mortal hermit. i took this as free reign to work out why each of the other hermits is immortal. some of them are gods, some of them are demigods, some of them are supernatural beings, but none of them (except xisuma) can be killed through feasible means.

because of the sheer amount of immortal hermits there just to live out immortality in peace, i like to think hermitcraft is sometimes referred to jokingly as ‘the retirement zone’ by other immortal beings. most mortals outside of hermitcraft wouldn’t know the hermits are all like... gods and shit.

hermits + their immortality under the cut because oh god this was supposed to be a fast post but i accidentally wrote... a lot. whoops!

Grian is a watcher. He was a watcher before he joined hermitcraft. That’s... just. Canon Grian Lore TM. Not much to explain with him.

Cleo and Joe are both immortal by virtue of no longer being capable of being mortal. As both of hem are undead beings (cleo a zombie and joe a ghost), killing them again isn’t... possible. In addition to this, at some point during their afterlife, they managed to gather enough power between the two of them to be labelled as the “Twin Gods of Life and Death”. Which one is life and which one is death? That depends on the day.

Cub and Scar are definitely not gods. But the deals the two made with the Vex are almost more of an insurance on their immortality. The Vex protect their ConVex as a dragon protects its hoard. Not only can the two of them hold their own in a fight, but their respawn is insured by the fact that even if they were to permadie, the Vex would bring them back anyways.

False is the Queen of Hearts, Heads, and Body Parts. She’s also a vampire. In a similar vein, Ren is a werewolf. Both of them can only be killed through very specific means, and neither can die of old age. Throughout their many years in the worlds, they’ve gathered tons of skills and allies. Although now they’ve both stepped down, content to enjoy their peaceful lives and chill out in Hermitcraft, each of them was once a ruler of their respective factions. The ‘queen’ part of False’s title was never just a title.

Etho was granted immortality by a council of gods, after they took a liking to his interesting antics and kept an eye on his longstanding worlds.

Doc, BDubs, Beef, and Etho (again) were all brought to Hermitcraft as the last ‘mortal’ members to join. The general idea was that maybe they could give Xisuma some company and relief from the antics of his immortal and godly friends. This did not happen. Instead, the universe decided it was going to give all of them godly powers in their own right. Etho himself may have been immortal, but he and the rest of the NHO all grew infinitely more powerful after leaving the jungle of season 5.

Stress is a dryad. She can control and warp the nature around her in strange and beautiful ways. In addition to this, were her body to ever get fully destroyed in a way that would prevent her from respawning, a new body would instead form for her out of the nature wherever she died. This is how ice queen stress came about in season 6.

Impulse actually bullshitted his own way into immortality. Where most of the other hermits were either brought into it by someone else or born into it, Impulse actually discovered the secret of immortality while he was trying to figure out how totems of undying were made. He now knows how to create totems and how to become immortal, though he won’t tell anyone else if they ask. Part of the process of creating totems involved...

...Tango, who is a demon. As a demon, his powerset includes but is not limited to both pyrokinesis and an affinity for very very large and very very deadly animals. He doesn’t use those abilities on Hermitcraft often, but they’re in his skillset for sure.

As a byproduct of the immortality, Zedaph showed up in the current timeline. His immortality is... strange, because it’s not technically immortality. Zedaph, as a person, is mortal and can die. Zedaph, as a being, though, is one of billions of Zedaphs in the universe; each of whom is nearly identical to the others; and whenever one Zedaph dies, he is replaced instantly with a new Zedaph; a functionally identical Zedaph to the one who died. Nobody’s quite sure how this process works, but Zed claims it’s through “time travel”.

Jevin, as a slime, can actually inhabit any portion of his slime that he wants; no matter how small the amount. Even if he were limited to one singular molecule of slime, he could still exist around that molecule and regenerate slime until he was fully present again, though it might take a little while for him to complete that process. The only way to kill Jevin is by fundamentally altering the chemical makeup of every single molecule of slime he’s ever had anywhere. It simply won’t happen. He does use his abilities to get out of conversations, if he’s feeling particularly annoyed at the time.

TFC is potentially one of the most interesting hermits, in his prior responsibilities. It’s easy to forget that he’s not mortal, considering how frighteningly average he acts in his day to day life. One peek into any of his bunkers, though, and you’re hit right in the face with a bold reminder. TFC used to be one of the gods responsible for shaping the very worlds players would walk on; more specifically, he was in charge of cave systems and mineshafts for a long time. He’s retired from that life and is having a lovely time in Hermitcraft, just vibing.

Wels gained his immortality through a deal with the patron god of the kingdom he grew up serving. He made this deal as a young knight and watched for decades as the kingdom grew and prospered, Wels himself known far and wide as quite probably the best warrior of them all. After being dismissed honorably by the kingdom, as he’d been protecting them for many decades now and the rulers honestly felt he deserved a break, the god he’d made a deal with finalized this immortality. He joined Hermitcraft not long after, and has taken up a spot doing his part to protect the hermits.

Iskall was somewhat of an enforcer, for the gods. Were a god to be acting particularly out of line, Iskall would be called in to bring them to the council for trial. Sometimes his targets came peacefully, sometimes he’d have to use force to bring them in. No matter what he had to do, there wasn’t a single target he missed. He both can and will kill a god if he must. Technically, Iskall’s still on call, but generally councils don’t call on him unless absolutely necessary anymore.

Hypno made a deal with a god many years ago, trading his mortality for the ability to see hundreds of thousands of alternate paths for the future. He wanted to chronicle them, and he still spends one or two days a week writing out winding paths of the future. When he’s not working, he wears his bandana to cover up the third eye that allows him this insight. This helps him focus on the now, rather than the futures that may or may not be.

Xb is an eldritch being with reality warping abilities. He has them under fairly good control, most of the time. They really only become an issue when he gets too much pent-up magical energy at once; examples of this being things like season changes. His season 7 base is built around what happens when he needs to release. It’s a post apocalypse world, and the apocalypse was him.

Mumbo is definitely both magical and immortal, but the specifics of his powers are incredibly unclear. The hermits know it has something to do with redstone, maybe, and that the unpredictability of Hermit Challenges are a reflection of his strange and confusing powerset, but nobody’s really sure where his immortality stems from. Every time you ask him he gives you a different answer. The mumbonis are all different joking theories as to where his powers came from.

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snaill-dragon · 2 years

Text

Some godly lore stuff

Helloo peoples. So I went ahead and made a list of important still alive deities for this world I came up with(plus some extra notes on the bottom). I hope you all like these.

(Btw this is just a list with little information, but more is hopefully on the way)

Title: The deity of beginnings Pronouns: it/they

General appearance when doing godly duties and the like: Said to appear as some great smoky figure.

Status: No one quite knows exactly what, outside of a few of the oldest deities, they just kinda helped make the universe, made the first few gods, parented them for like 2 decades, and then mostly vanished. Their presence is still around, but they haven’t been seen or heard from in thousands of years.

First deities(8)-

Title: Maris, the deity of the water, steam, and rain. Pronouns: He/they. Status: Passed away a few thousand years ago.

Title: Bianca, The Great Bringer of Snow Pronouns: she/her Status: officially retired, now just seen as a powerful guardian/being.

Title: Resper, Deity of plants Pronouns: they/them Status: Passed.

Title: Wisp, Deity of air and flight. Pronouns: Any Status: Alive

Title: Crystal, deity of gems and ground Pronouns: She/her Status: passed

Title: Azir, deity of heat. Pronouns: They/he. Status: passed.

Title: Erasa, deity of ash and smoke. Pronouns: She/her Status: Alive.

Title: Sail, deity of immortality. Pronouns: he/him Status: Alive

Deities who were not once mortal but not created by deity of beginning(7) Title: Militum, Deity of war Pronouns: any and all, but often referred to as he/him because tends to appear masculinly.

Title: Renay, deity of the moon Pronouns: he/him

Title: Solurt, deity of the sun Pronouns: he/him

Title: Marin, Deity of magic Pronouns: she/they/it

Title: Raymond, Deity of stars. Pronouns: none/only goes by name and title

Title: Helia, deity of dawn Pronouns: they/them.

Title: Levina, deity of clouds and storms Pronouns: she/it.

Once mortal deities(9)-

Title: Leala, deity of protection and loyalty Pronouns: she/her

Title: Rey, deity of companionship and healing. Pronouns: they/them.

Title: Ramine Deity of imagination Pronouns: he/they

Title: June, deity of music. Pronouns: any

Title: Lucky, deity of luck and fortune. Pronouns: they/them

Title: Dawn, deity of the afterlife

Pronouns: She/her

Title: Damien, deity dreams. Pronouns: he/him

Title: Ara, deity of fruits and farming Pronouns: he/him

Title: Blue, deity of sand Pronouns: they/them.

Other notable, but dead deities: Cassidy, deity of strategy, passed on in a battle between Militum, Leala, Cassiday, and their allies. The fight ended after Militum killed Cassidy. They were a mortal turned deity,

Marilyn, previous deity of death. Died and somewhat replaced by Dawn recently. __ Some notes! I mentioned all of the original 8 deities, even the dead ones, because they're all super important and looked up to just for their status as being created by the deity of beginnings. Levina is actually kind of an odd one out, because she was created by Wisp as a semi-immortal bird(couldn't age or get sick, but could still die from wounds), and only later became a deity by unrelated events. Sail doesn't control who becomes a deity/gets granted immortality, but without them it would cease to be a thing(or so its commonly believed). People mostly leave him alone because of this. ALSO. if any of these catch your eye(dead or alive) feel free to go to my inbox and put in their name or something and I'll give you a few free fun facts about them. Or if you have a specific question go ahead and ask.

#death mention tw #rambles #long post #I think #LORE yes #character list #please if you want send something in! I don't bite #im just eager to talk about them #this took me two days to make guys #*sigh*#but now im happy

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dramatistvx · 3 years

Text

Loki fic recs!

Hello there! Here are some of the Loki fics I’ve read that I thought were really good :) Enjoy!

Some of the fics contain dark themes so please read the tags and be safe! :)

Time Travel -fix it-

The Fun With Time Loops series by Infinite_Monkeys

Summery first work:

With One More Try (Can We Start Again)

Loki's attempt to conquer Earth has, to his great dismay, succeeded spectacularly. When Thanos sends him to collect the Time Stone, he strikes a deal with the Stone's keeper: he'll be sent back to the beginning of the invasion, and this time, armed with knowledge about his opponents, he can lose properly.

Or: a time loop fic in which Loki does increasingly desperate things to try and get the Avengers to defeat him already.

Words: 13,563 - chaptered

Series total; 4 works, words: 78,913

Pretty sure you’ve already heard about this one and for good reason. It’s so good! Loved the whole series. I liked the third work best, tho it’s quite a bit longer than the others -60 k- It has more depth and -wayyy more angst- you get to see more of Loki struggling and him generally being in pain oOp- but he’s trying! Also Thor just wants to help bc he cares hihi. Love love love.

those yesterdays bleeding through by wnnbdarklord

Loki dies on the desolate plains of Svartalfheim, Thor's howls of grief ringing in his ears. He wakes up on his bed in his cell, where there is no sign of destruction.

A time loop fic where Loki gets the chance to fix things on the day the Dark Elves attack Asgard. And another. And another.

Words: 9,508

Another great time travel fix-it fic! I actually read the Fun With Time Loops series because I liked this fic so much and needed more lmao. There’s also a twist in the end that I didn’t see coming ;) It has so much angst for 9k I love XD I’d say that it’s a bit more explicit in the angst so be aware! Overall great read if you want something short and angsty but with a hopeful ending.

De aging

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup

In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Words: 26,586 - chaptered

Love love love this one! After a magical accident, Loki accidentally gets de aged and it’s the most adorable thing ever. There’s fluff and angst and kid Loki is just so precious. I also love how Loki and Clint bond in this. Literally go read this! xD

Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Ichor in Violet by tirsynni

When Thor learns that Loki can travel to other realms without Heimdall seeing, of course he convinces Loki to take them both to Jotunheim to hunt Frost Giants. There an accident unravels centuries of lies and threatens to unravel Loki, too.

Words: 14,574 - chaptered

Where Loki accidentally discovers who he really is and has trouble dealing. Thor is confused, he just loves his brother. The angsttttt. This is dark so be aware!

The Tapestries series by Lise

Summary first work:

It turns out that even a god can't escape a beating by the Hulk unscathed. At the end of the Battle of New York, Loki doesn't get back up. This changes more than you'd think.

Series total; 4 works, Words: 30,727

Oh the angst *wrings hands*

This series is amazing! It’s Loki struggling to deal with centuries of unresolved anger and hurt while simultaneously trying to cope with more recent events, the Void..Thanos.

Basically, Loki just wants to go home, wherever that may be. Everyone’s trying, genuinely trying. You just gotta know when -how- to stop fighting. It’s very well written and It really dives into the psychological aspects of his trauma. Also, Odin actually cares for once lmao. This one is also pretty dark so be aware!

Mistakes Made (And Corrected) by ADreamer67

In a different universe, Hela rebelled sooner. In a different universe, Hela Odinsdottir seduced Laufey with promises of power and convinced him to attack Midgard. In a different universe, Hela got pregnant, and didn't want to be. In a different universe, Hela left her newborn son for dead and went to face her father.

In a different universe, Loki Helajarson is two hundred and fifty years older than Thor. Let's see what happens.

Words: 47,072

Woah, just- this is so good!! It’s a very different take on Loki’s character but it’s still really fitting. After Thor is banished and the Odin sleep is fast approaching, Loki is to be king. Things don’t go very well for him, to say the least. I loved how the characters were portrayed and absolutely adored the dynamic between Loki and Thor. There’s so much angst and turmoil and it’s pretty dark so read the tags and be safe!

Just Close Your Eyes by ADreamer67

Ragnarok has come to pass, the Asgardians have reached a deal with the leaders of Midgard for territory of their own, Loki is allowed to stay (provided he doesn’t leave said territory), and Thor is settled on the throne. So all in all, things are going well, if you ignore the recent massacre and planetary annihilation.

Well, except for the fact that Loki is working himself into the ground. And Thor is having none of it.

Cue a not entirely legal brotherly field trip where Thor will make Loki relax, or die trying. Responsibilities? Pssh, who cares about those? (Hint - Loki. Very much so)

Words: 31,832 - chaptered, still going

So fun! It starts out pretty angsty but it gradually becomes a little more lighthearted. Then, it’s just Thor and Loki exploring Midgardian customs together -mostly Loki being mildly disgusted by them lmao- :)

Birthright by ADreamer67

Four years ago, Odin told Loki his birthright was to die. If only he knew.

When the Laufeyson was born small, too small and frail to survive, the solution seemed obvious. Though it had been many a generation since it had been done, the child was brought forth to the Casket, to be bound to its' power in an ancient ceremony that would imbue the little one with all the strength of a typical Jotun. That ceremony was interrupted by battle, and the child was left with the unguarded casket, in the hopes that the casket could keep it alive until it was safe to finish the ceremony.

That ceremony was never finished.

Over a thousand years later, the Casket of Ancient Winters is destroyed during Ragnarok. No one thought this would be an issue, least of all Loki. Guess what.

Words: 76,599 - chaptered, still going

This is so good!!! It’s one of the first fics I read in the fandom and it has really set my standards high. There’s so much angst and turmoil and it’s so well written. I absolutely adored the dynamic between the crew and how much Thor loves his brother even though Loki thinks he doesn’t deserve it. I really like the way ADreamer67 portrays the characters.

Soulmate/Soulbond, Relationships

Maybe You (and your sad blue eyes) by alby_mangroves

Loki had already come to accept being born without a bonded soul to cleave to, one more way in which he would always be the lesser brother. So of course it made sense that it would settle upon him when he least expected it.

(Set in the timeline of Captain America: The First Avenger, Thor, and The Avengers. Canon divergent just before Chitauri invasion.)

Words: 29,258 - chaptered

I don’t really ship Loki and Steve -bc stucky heheh- but I came across this fic in another rec list and I absolutely loved it, plus the art is stunning! Def a great read if you like angsty soulmate/soulbond fics but with a happy ending.

The sexual awakening of Steve Rogers by aLoggedInReader

Steve's life has always been complicated, but he did not know just how much of a rollercoaster it could become until Bucky came to stay with him.

Bucky is trying to be helpful and get Steve to live a little, but between being a hundred years old and having only lived a couple of those years, as an assassin for Hydra to boot, he tends to miss the mark now and then.

Adding an Asgardian prince in exile to the mix surprisingly does not make things easier.

Words: 47,333, still going

Sksjsksksk I don’t really ship Loki/Steve but this one is just so fun. features a lot of female Loki, flustered Steve, protective Bucky and overall wholesomeness and chaotic energy. Everyone just wants Steve to be happy. -mostly Steve centric-

The lines, here are written by dfotw

In a world where everyone has their soulmate's name written on their wrists, Steve Rogers has quite a lot more... and Loki, a lot less.

Words: 18,009 - chaptered

Lmao Imma just stop saying I don’t ship them XD This one is also really good. It’s angsty and tender with a hopeful ending.

#loki (marvel)#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #thor #hurt/comfort #loki angst #fic recs #frigga #angst #mcu #steve rogers #time travel #soulmate #loki fic rec

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kaizokuou-ni-naru · 4 years

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Some Reasons I Love One Piece

So I set up a poll to ask what I should do for my 4000 follower milestone, and something like 85% of the responses to my poll said you wanted me to do a compilation of stuff I love about One Piece! So hell yeah, get ready for me to talk about pirates for way too long (a sentence that could also serve as an accurate blog description).

Before that though, lemme just say- thank you all! Seriously! When I started this blog I figured I’d be extremely lucky to end up with like a thousand followers, and now I have four times that and it just keeps growing, which just constantly baffles and amazes me. I adore every one of you, and you’re providing me something fun and productive to do in quarantine, and I love you for that.

Anyways! Let’s talk good shit.

Let’s start with Luffy. The whole story starts with him, after all.

I love Luffy, just as a character. He’s one of my favorite protagonists in anything, ever, when ordinarily protagonist characters don’t really appeal to me all that much. I genuinely think he might be my favorite character in One Piece now that I sit down and really think about it. I love how unconventional of a main character he is- he actively shuns the idea of being a hero and is in fact the most chaotic neutral motherfucker on the planet, and yet he’s so friendly and loyal and fun that you straight up can’t not love him both in-universe and out.

I also love the Strawhats just in general, both as a group and individually. Found family is one of my all-time favorite story tropes, and they do it better than like, the vast majority of stories out there. They’re all so completely unique from each other and play off each other so well and they really do feel like a family. I love how often Oda just shows them fucking around and hanging out. (One of my only gripes with post-timeskip is how much time they spend split apart.) I think it says a lot about them that I struggled so much when someone asked me to rank the Strawhats a few months back and had to rearrange the list like four times. I just!! Love them all!!

One of my favorite things about One Piece is that it’s the story of Luffy’s rise, and that it occurs in a world that’s so solidly scaled and well-developed that all progress he makes actually feels tangible and impactful. Some of my favorite moments in One Piece are the ones where we can see how far he and the crew have come and see other people’s reactions. His reappearance at Sabaody after the timeskip is my favorite scene in the manga, full stop. His entrance at Marineford and all of the Decks of the World cover stories delight me for the same reason.

Speaking of the worldbuilding, god it’s so good? I think one of the greatest potential strengths of a long manga is that its just got so much time to establish and build on so much information, and sometimes that leads to mangaka kind of tying themselves in knots with too much lore and explanation, but Oda just fucking nails it.

I recently read a conversation during Zou where the Strawhats are talking to Inuarashi, Nekomamushi and the Wano folks about all their mutual acquaintances on the Roger Pirates- Brook asks about Crocus, Franky mentions Tom, etc- and I had a moment where I realized how in pretty much any other series all those connections might seem contrived, but in One Piece it works so well. So much time has been dedicated to establishing all these facts and characters and connections over years and hundreds of chapters that when they do come together, it just feels so satisfying.

Like, at Twin Cape Crocus mentions he was a ship’s doctor and then mentions Roger as the Strawhats leave, at Thriller Bark we find out he’s Brook’s friend, at Sabaody in conversation with Rayleigh we find out for sure which ship he was a doctor on and that he joined them to look for Brook’s crew- and it all just falls together so nicely. One Piece is maybe the strongest series I’ve ever read in terms of how it establishes its characters and concepts and how they all fit into the world and cross over and connect with each other. The world of One Piece is huge, but it also feels so alive and interconnected, and that’s just wonderful.

I love how hopeful One Piece is. I was talking to a friend a couple months ago who doesn’t watch it, and she kind of dismissed it as ‘a show where nobody dies.’ Which- setting aside the fact that that’s just not fucking true- my first response to that was, “So?” I think it’s nice that we can all know for pretty much certain that the Strawhats will achieve their dreams in the end. There’ll be a happy ending, and Luffy’s going to be Pirate King, we’ve known that from the start. The fun is in seeing how they get there.

Aside from a few specific cases, I also really like how Oda does his character writing just in general. The female characters in One Piece generally get a bad rap, largely from people who haven’t watched the show and judge it on the (admittedly exaggerated) artstyle, but fuck if I haven’t seen such a widely varied and developed and flawed female cast writing-wise since- I don’t even know. Oda does a really good job of giving his characters, both male and female, unique and memorable personalities, which is super fucking impressive considering just how many there are. Similarly, I’m impressed by how new characters are introduced without getting repetitive or annoying, and very often those characters are really fantastic. I could talk about all the different One Piece characters I love and why, but we would legitimately be here all day.

I also love how unlike a lot of long-running series like this, characters don’t just go away when their time in the spotlight is done. In just about any other series, characters like Buggy and Coby and Crocodile would just be gone and never to be heard from again after they’ve served their purpose. Instead you have the stupid clown villain from the second arc becoming a fucking shichibukai several hundred chapters later, and it makes sense in the context of the story! The whole concept of the cover stories works really well towards this aspect of One Piece, letting us see what all these other characters are up to without taking attention off the main story. This fits in with the interconnectedness I mentioned earlier, too.

And I like how (and I know there are people who will argue this, I have had them in my inbox, but I do not care) One Piece has stayed so strong for so long. I’ve mentioned before that both of my favorite big arcs are pre-timeskip- Alabasta, for the civil war storyline and great supporting cast and villains, and W7/Enies Lobby, for the epic emotional highs and lowers + ANOTHER great supporting cast. But like, I’ve been enjoying the more recent arcs just as much! Honestly, now that I’ve finished Dressrosa, I think it definitely ranks up there among my favorites as well, for how chaotic and fun and high-stakes the whole thing felt when I was binging through it. I’m only a few chapters into Whole Cake Island so far but it seems very promising, and I’m really excited to get to Wano from what I’ve seen of it.

I haven’t even really touched on the art yet, either. I know the artstyle turns some people off of the series, for how kind of cartoony it is sometimes and how different it is from most other series, but honestly I just love it. I wasn’t sure about it at the start but it grew on me very fast. Hell, I have a whole tag (which I should use more) dedicated just to appreciation of pretty panels.

And the action scenes in One Piece are so fun and expressive and creative and almost always at least a little silly just by the nature of Luffy’s powers. I don’t think I’ve ever been bored during a One Piece fight. And the splash pages are frequently just breathtaking. I’m a writing person, not an art person, so I’m bad at putting this kind of thing into words nearly as well, but- yeah. One Piece Art Good. (My friend Narramin also has a really, really good series of posts about how great the visual storytelling in OP is starting here that I highly recommend, if you’re interested.)

Finally, I think my favorite thing about One Piece is that it’s all one story, start to end. I kind of touched on this above with the worldbuilding thing, but you can see what a ridiculous degree of thought and planning Oda has put into his story, and how well everything comes together. It’s the main aspect that got me to give One Piece a try in the first place- I heard how good and thought-out the long term storytelling is, and I just eat that shit up. I don’t think I’ve ever had the level of trust in a creator to handle and end their story satisfyingly that I have in Oda. It’s a good feeling.

#took me so long to write this post that im now like #a third of the way to 5k #which is ridiculous #feel free to ask me to elaborate on any of this!!#i write better meta when i have a single topic to focus on fjdsh #which is one of the reasons this took so long #so yeah ask box open!!#jonny talks #one piece #not japanese #long post #opmeta

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olivinesea · 3 years

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Space Is Only Noise If You Can See, pt. 2

Part 1

a/n: Even slower than normal, sorry! There’s a lot going on in my world and it turns out it’s rather exhausting to be evil. All the same warnings apply: major character death, guns, blood, violence, suicide, etc. This train is only moving in one direction (straight to hell). ~2.8k

The nightmare continues.

That night he called Emily. It hadn’t been planned. In fact he had been hoping to have someone else call her, fill her in on the tragedy. That way he knew she would get the truth and not the distorted reflection of facts bounced around by his mind. But when he woke up in the middle of the night, breathing hard after yet another repetition of the nightmare, he decided he needed to call Emily. She needed to know and and he needed to hear her voice. Maybe her familiar words could chase away some of these ghosts. The coffins were getting closer all the time and he was almost certain he saw someone pushing them in his direction.

It was 3 am and he had barely slept at all. He went to the kitchen for water and checked on Jack before sitting back down to call her. He pulled his knees into his chest like an overgrown child and waited for her to pick up. She was grouchy even though it wasn’t all that early for her. She was always unreasonable at what he considered very reasonable times of day. When she saw his name flash across the screen, she wasn’t worried about the timing because she knew he didn’t sleep well. She had stopped trying to keep track of when he should be asleep years ago, the math making her dizzy with how small the number of hours he’d reliably rest seemed to be.

“What do you want now Hotchner?”

It was a game they played with one another. A false severity, all business. Seeing who would crack first. They both missed each other badly, each having been the other’s anchor through so much, but they tried not to say it. It only hurt more.

He felt bad that he couldn’t warn her this wasn’t a normal call, that there was no play in the gravity of his voice. He held his breath while he decided what to say first.

“Aaron?” Her tone immediately took on an edge. Damn her, she was so attuned to him, even four thousand miles away, she knew something was wrong without him breathing a word.

“Spencer is…Spencer died,” he managed to stutter out.

She didn’t become frantic, a quality he had always appreciated about his closest friend. She was quiet for a moment before prompting him. “How?”

He shook his head, it still didn’t make sense to him. He had brought home the report, hoping that the clearly typed details, the stomach-turning photographs, could convince him. That their fixed structures might settle his mind.

“We’re not sure. He just…they found him in the river. It looks like he jumped sometime early Sunday.”

She was silent. Of all the possible responses, that was not one she would have guessed.

“And…” he trailed off, not sure if he could tell her about the phone call. He hadn’t told anyone yet. He selfishly kept Spencer’s phone with him, checking it every couple hours to see if anything had changed, if his memory was betraying him, again. No one had questioned him about it.

“Did he leave a note?” Leave it to Emily to be practical. They were all so dazed, reliving the last days, weeks, trying to remember something that they overlooked. Surely they wouldn’t have missed something so large.

“No, not that we’ve found.”

“Well,” her seriousness now very real, “there could be another explanation then.”

“Em…” He was already weary of this conversation started with JJ. He didn’t think he could expend any energy trying to convince Emily as well. Not when so much of his effort needed to go into making sure he was on the right page, the right date, the right series of events.

“Think about it.” She was blunt. “Reid would never go without an explanation. He couldn’t. He can’t keep his mouth shut. It wouldn’t be possible for him to just leave everyone without some kind of goodbye.”

He waited, not contradicting her. It made sense, what she was saying. But he didn’t know if it was only because he didn’t want to believe the alternative. He also didn’t know what that would mean. If Spencer hadn’t taken his own life, who had?

“Well, we are still waiting on a full investigation. Either way, we’ve lost him.”

“Will you be handling the investigation?” she asked.

“No, not this time,” he replied. He had already bent the rules too many times, both recently and over the entirety of his career. There was no urgency to this, no immediate threat, no one to save. What had happened was over, the pain was irreversible. There was no reason it had to be them formally digging into the details of Spencer’s last days.

“I’ll be on a plane this afternoon. There’s a few things I need to take care of but I can be there by tomorrow.”

“Emily, that’s not necessary.”

“Like hell it’s not. Aaron Hotchner you are not going to deal with this alone.”

“Thank you, Em,” his response was quiet, fearful even. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the slithering doubts in his mind from her, not if she was there beside him. The things he had worked so hard to hide from the others would be exposed once she got ahold of him. He just hoped she knew how to rebuild as well as she knew how to burn it all down.

The next day they gathered in the round table room. Everyone was on edge, clearly having gotten little sleep. Hotch told them they could take time off if they need. He’d informed the director that they were unavailable for the next week at least, there was nothing urgent for them to do. He wasn’t going to force them one way or another, he knew they all had different ways of coping. They filtered out of the room aimlessly with glazed expressions. Hotch ducked his head and returned to his office.

About an hour later he looked up from his papers to see Morgan leaning on the doorframe. He gestured an invitation to the chairs opposite his desk. Derek sat heavily, pulling at his collar like it was too tight.

“Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, they both knew it.

Morgan shook his head, restless. “I just don’t get it Hotch. Why wouldn’t he come to us? Why wouldn’t he say something to me?”

Hotch looked at Morgan sadly, noting the sense of betrayal in his features. “We can’t know what was going through his mind Derek. No matter how much we know a person, we still can only see what they let us see.”

He met Hotch’s eyes, confusion plain. “He told me everything. He—“ Morgan stopped, obviously fighting back emotion. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Hotch nodded, “I know, I’m not sure it ever does. But the police are looking into it, we’ll have their report soon and then we can figure out next steps from there.”

“We should be doing that,” Morgan’s voice gained more of its usual strength, spurred on by the thought of strangers pawing through Spencer’s things.

“No,” Hotch’s voice was firm, “we all need time to process this. None of us can be objective, no matter how much we wish we could.”

“He wouldn’t like it.” Morgan sounded helpless.

“I know, but it’s the right thing. He would want the truth, this is the best way to get it.”

Derek’s shoulders slumped, he was too drained to fight with Hotch really.

“Why don’t you go home? There’s no reason you have to be here, no reason any of us has to be here. It might help to get away from all this,” Hotch waved his hand vaguely towards the bullpen, still full of people who hadn’t just had the earth shift sickeningly beneath them.

Morgan didn’t respond right away and when he did look up, there were tears threatening to escape his eyes. “I know he didn’t do this.”

Hotch just nodded sympathetically. He didn’t think Spencer did this either but he didn’t know how to explain that just yet.

“Go home, Derek.” He said it gently but it wasn’t a suggestion.

Morgan rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand and exhaled loudly as he stood up. He nodded tightly to Hotch before leaving the office. Ten minutes later, Hotch watched him heading down the stairs and through the busy office, people discreetly stepping out of the path of such obvious heartache.

The following day was more of the same, the end of Reid’s life an immovable checkpoint in time. JJ stopped by his office on her way in, asked him how Jack was doing. She didn’t ask how Hotch was, she knew any answer she got to that would be a meaningless fabrication. Hotch looked a little guilty upon hearing the question.

“He doesn’t know.”

“What? Hotch, you have to tell him.”

“I know, I just, I don’t know what to tell him.” Hotch leaned back in his chair, looking at the pen he held. “He’s going to ask questions that I don’t have the answers to.” They all do. Somehow he has fooled them into thinking he was someone with answers, someone who fixed things. They would be terrified to find out wrong they were.

“He’s not a little kid anymore, he’ll be more hurt if you lie to him.”

“It’s not lying, and I believe I know what’s best for my son.” He was angry for a brief moment, all the stress of what happened had worn down his normally tight control. He immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice, could see how JJ had shrunk back a little. She was only trying to help. She was in the same pain as him, the loss echoing through their lives, tearing at tender scars that never healed fully. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, JJ. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She waved him off though the words still stung. “Have you talked to Morgan? I haven’t seen him yet.”

“No, he’s taking some time. I don’t expect he’ll be in for a few days at least.”

She hummed, pleased at least one of them was able to step away. “I’ll check on him later, see if he needs anything.”

“That would be great, thank you.” He hoped she knew the depth behind those two words but they never seemed to carry the weight they should. JJ was always doing things to take care of the team, picking up pieces no one else noticed had fallen.

Morgan was not answering his phone. The first missed call didn’t bother her. He was probably doing something, maybe he’d gone for a run. The second missed call felt a little unusual. They were all so attached to their phones, always waiting for the next case to come in. It was unlikely that he was without it. Maybe he had turned his ringer off, ensuring that he had the space he needed. The third time she called without answer she had reached a state of full blown worry. Morgan was reasonable, he was thoughtful, he wouldn’t just disappear on them. And yet, he and Reid had been so close, always flirting and bickering, Spencer’s usual rules about personal space melting whenever it was Derek crossing the line. He wasn’t thinking clearly just now. She tried but couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of her mind. He wouldn’t. But she needed to see him, to confirm his wellbeing. She decided to stop by his place on her way home. She could bring him some dinner. She doubted he was up to cooking for himself.

After picking up his usual order from the burger place near work, JJ drove to Morgan’s house. She still hadn’t had any luck reaching him on the phone. Her heart was racing and it felt like the air had suddenly become heavy, requiring incredible strength to drag into her lungs. He didn’t answer the door either.

She slipped through the side yard, searching for another way in. She pounded on the door and called his name. It came out sounding like a sob. Leaning her forehead against the door, she told herself to calm down, to think logically. She almost laughed when the thought of kicking in the door crossed her mind—picturing Morgan swiftly getting them through all manner of locked entries. She knew she wouldn’t make a dent in this door. Morgan took too much care in the details of the homes he lived in. The door was solid. She’d need another way in.

She paced in the yard, wishing she had a key, wishing Derek would just answer his stupid phone and she could calm her anxiety and head home. She glared at the door, so stubbornly closed, keeping her out specifically. She wondered if he had a spare key and was about to call Penelope to ask when she spotted it. One of the windows was cracked open.

A key would be easier but she could work with a window. She was too impatient to put an end to her worry so she stepped through the bushes that lined the perimeter of the house. She was able to pop the screen of with a little effort, then slid the window all the way open before pulling herself up and through. She ended up on the kitchen counter and dropped down to the tiles. Her palms were covered in a layer of grime and she brushed them against each other to get it off. Breathing a little hard from the effort, adrenaline ran high and made her overly sensitive to the quiet permeating the house. She wanted to call out for him but something stopped her.

She crossed through the kitchen and froze when she reached the doorway to the living room. At first she couldn’t process what she was seeing, random details refusing to connect in any kind of discernible order. There was a smell, so familiar but so out of place here, a home she’d brought her children to and laughed over too many glasses of wine in. The bitter metallic scent clawed its way into her sinuses, making her eyes water. It was dark and the shape on the floor was so crumpled it could have been a pile of blankets. It could have been if it weren’t for the even darker pool surrounding it, dragging the light inwards, velvety in its lack of reflection. She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling the pressure against her lips. There was a scream lost somewhere inside her, winding its way up as the tumblers fell into place, unlocking the meaning of what she saw.

“Derek, no!” The words barely made a sound. She moved closer, willing this to be a mistake, a trick of the light, there had to be some other meaning to this scene. But there wasn’t. She got close enough to look right into his unseeing eyes, still fixed on the ceiling beams, the thing he stared at as his life spilled out and pooled around him. Automatically her fingers fumbled for his pulse, one final hope to contradict the reality of the too obvious bullet hole. She kept looking into his eyes, trying to avoid seeing the damage that had altered everything else about his face. Nothing. She backed up, stumbling against the table behind her. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, couldn’t even fully understand what was happening. Derek Morgan, the strongest, bravest person she knew would never be in this position, laid out with a gun in his hand, no fight left in his body. The voice in her head tried to whisper its triumph; I told you so wrapping itself happily around her shock.

“No,” she said aloud. “No.” As if that tiny syllable could have any effect on the on the matter. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, hands shaking. She called the only person she could think to call, the only person who might be able to fix this.

“JJ?” Hotch was concerned when he picked up to silence. It was unnerving, too similar to Spencer’s mute call days before.

All she could do was breathe and hope the words would come to her soon.

“JJ, what’s wrong?” Silence. “Say something Jennifer!” The rise in his voice made a shiver run through her, just enough movement to get her vocal cords working.

“He’s dead,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

Hotch didn’t say anything immediately. He couldn’t, the memory of Morgan’s blood on his hands, on his face overwhelmed him. He was filled with horror by the knowledge that he had done this.

She repeated herself, louder this time.

“I’m on my way. Call 911.”

He was already halfway out the door, not realizing he hadn’t asked if she was safe before hanging up.

~Park 3~

#Criminal Minds #tw major character death #tw suicude #tw guns #tw blood #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #spencer reid

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isitgintimeyet · 4 years

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Just a Friend

Hope you enjoy the next chapter of this story. Thanks to you all for reading this. You comments are lovely to read.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

AO3

Chapter 5: From Facebook to Friends

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lamb would sometimes take me into university with him. I would creep into the lecture theatre and sit at the back watching him as he enthused about Phoenician trade routes, or long gone military strategies. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but I loved it anyway. The passion he had for his subject matter thrilled me.

And once the lecture was over, I would join him in his office and we would squeeze together in an old armchair, drinking hot, sweet tea while he tried to explain the principles of a three thousand year old civilisation in words a seven year old would understand.

The armchair is now in my office at the hospital. It looks more than a bit incongruous amongst the standard NHS furniture. The rich green velvet fabric has faded to a shabby eau de nil colour and years of shuffling bottoms have left a large depression in the seat cushion. But I won’t have it reupholstered. I love it as it is. It’s a great reminder of my wonderful uncle. I sit in it and somehow it comforts me, like a soothing hug.

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

I glance at the clock as I walk into my office, paper cup of hot, sweet tea in hand, and head straight for Lamb’s chair. Gratefully, I sink into its depths and take a tentative sip of the steaming liquid before closing my eyes for a moment. The surgery was long; much longer than anticipated—having taken all morning and most of the afternoon, in fact. It had also been far more complicated—my original plans for keyhole surgery had to be changed, but, eventually, we completed the operation successfully. I’m always proud of my theatre team, but never more so than in situations like this.

And now, after hours of concentration, I feel in need of some light relief. I can go home, have a wonderfully reviving shower and then what? I know that Dougal is taking Geillis out for a meal tonight, so she’s not available. Mary and Anna are both working nights this week, so no joy there. Other friends live too far away for an impromptu midweek activity. I could go to the gym. I should go to the gym. Or… more likely, I’ll go home, have cheese on toast, a glass of wine and watch ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the fifteenth time instead.

I reach for my phone to check for messages. A notification for a Facebook friend request appears on my screen. I very rarely get new friend requests—other than the odd random gentleman hoping, I presume, to make some sort of connection. I always delete immediately.

And, yes, the request is from a gentleman—one Jamie Fraser. The profile picture is definitely Samsonite Jamie, even wearing the Scotland rugby shirt I fingered whilst foraging through his suitcase. I click accept. Why not? I don’t think I have anything too embarrassing on my posts. In fact, I don’t use it very often at all.

Neither, it seems, does Mr. Fraser. His cover photo shows a very youthful bunch of Scottish rugby supporters and his recent timeline seems to comprise mostly of being tagged in photos by Laoghaire Mackenzie. Is it my imagination, or does he have a resigned look on his face on each of their ‘selfies’?

My tea is cool enough to drink now without scalding my tongue. I put my phone down and take a large gulp whilst considering tomorrow’s workload. My job is a series of highs and lows. Today, for example, started as routine, slumped to a worrying low, before peaking at a very relieved high. Tomorrow appears to be an easier day, certainly—a review of patients’ case notes in the morning followed by an outpatient clinic in the afternoon. All follow up patients, and all doing well as far as I know, so tomorrow is shaping up to be a very good day.

I open up my phone again. Facebook messenger is encouraging me to ‘say hi to your new Facebook friend.’ Without thinking, I send a little waving hand emoji to Samsonite Jamie.

I have no sooner put the phone down than it pings. Waving hand returned. I smile. What are we… thirteen years old? Next I’ll be asking him out for an Irn Bru and a bag of chips.

Ping again.

You owe me…

Shit! The stain on his t-shirt, no doubt. I watch the dots on the screen. Perhaps he’s calculating the cost of a dry cleaner, or a new t-shirt.

You promised me an ice cream.

You up for buying one for me tonight?

I hesitate for a moment. I hope Jamie doesn’t think I’m after him or anything like that. I mean, he’s not really my type. As I’ve said before, I’ve always been attracted to academic, cerebral kind of men like Uncle Lamb, rather than Viking marauders.

And I’ve never subscribed to the idea that men and women can’t be friends. One of my closest friends at university was a man—Joe Abernathy. If it wasn't for the fact that he is currently three thousand miles away, working in Boston, I would be arranging platonic ice cream outings with him.

So, deciding I have nothing to lose, I type my response.

If you can get to the kiosk by 6:30, it should still be open

A brief pause, then the response.

Great. See you there?

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

Even at a distance, I recognise him sitting at a table next to the kiosk. No white t-shirt today, it looks like some sort of check lumberjack shirt. I breathe a sigh of relief. Not what I would call ‘first date’ clothing. Which is handy, seeing as I’m wearing ripped jeans and an oversized Aran jumper. I’m clean, presentable and fresh-smelling but definitely not dressed to impress.

He stands up when he sees me and greets me formally with a handshake. His hands are warm and dry—no nervous, sweaty palms here, which is another good sign. His shirt is blue, red and cream flannel and actually quite hideous.

“I hope this ice cream lives up tae ma expectations,” he says with the merest hint of challenge.

I crane my neck and look him straight in the eye. “No doubt at all. Cherry bakewell, is it? Double cone?”

“Aye. With a flake too. Compensation, ye ken.”

He stands aside to allow me to make the purchases. Before accepting the cone, he picks up half a dozen or so paper napkins and stuffs them in the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m prepared fer ye now. Do yer worst, Ms Beauchamp.”

I ignore his clear inference and follow him to a nearby bench.

“I can manage to eat and walk at the same time, you know,” I say in mock indignation.

“Hm,” he replies. “All the evidence sae far suggests the contrary. I need proof afore I believe it.”

There’s a moment of silence as we both focus on our ice creams. I lick neatly all the way around, trying to prevent any rogue drips trickling down the cone. Jamie pulls the flake from his cone and consumes it in two mouthfuls. He looks at me and laughs.

“Caught me. I’m a bit of a bugger fer chocolate,” he mumbles before swallowing.

“Right,” he continues, much more clearly now. “I suggest we get all the boring stuff out of the way. Ye ken, name, age, family, job, blah, blah blah. I’ll go first, if ye like.”

I nod my agreement.

“Sae, I’m James or Jamie Fraser. I’m thirty years old. Since our last conversation I am most definitely single. I live in Glasgow, obviously, but grew up on a farm near Inverness. My parents still run the farm. I have one sister, Jenny, who’s married tae Ian, my childhood friend. I have one nephew—a grand little lad known as Wee Jamie and a wee baby niece, Maggie . And I dinna think it’ll be long afore they’re joined by others. They all live here in Glasgow. My job, weel, I have a business—FraserFood—recipe boxes delivered tae yer door.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. ‘From farm to fork.” That’s you, is it?”

He smiles proudly. “Aye, it’s me and ma family. Looks like ma marketing manager is doing a fine job, then.”

“Oh, forgot tae say, after the blah blah, ye have tae tell one confession. Only a wee one, mind.” He takes a large mouthful of his ice cream.

I purse my lips. “Really, and what if I’ve nothing to confess?”

Jamie snorts with laughter and does a funny sort of blink, screwing up his face and closing both eyes. Is he trying to wink? If so, he’s failing miserably. I try to look angelic and sin free. Judging by the look of scepticism on his face, It doesn’t seem to be working.

“Sae, my confession is, dah-dah-daaaah,” he does a fake fanfare, trying to build suspense. “I wanted tae be yer friend on Facebook because I wanted tae see if there were any photos of ye in Barcelona, with all yer...er… accessories.”

I feel myself redden. I’ve just remembered catching Geillis on Facebook the other day at work and I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming next.

“Verra interesting… in particular, the one with ye and six penis shot glasses. How d’ye manage tae get two of them in yer mouth at the same time?”

I inwardly curse Geillis and her desire to live her life through social media.

“Excuse me,” I reply somewhat primly. “I don’t think we’re at the Q and A stage yet.”

“So,” I continue in a lighter tone. “Me. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I’m thirty two and I’m a paediatric orthopaedic surgeon, here at the children’s hospital. I love my job so much, I can’t begin to tell you. As of two weeks ago, I am thankfully single. I was born in Oxford and moved up here when I was twelve, when my Uncle Lamb became a professor at the university. He brought me up, you know. Raised me when my parents died in a car accident... I… er...I was four at the time.”

I can feel Jamie looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes. Telling people about my parents never gets any easier, no matter how many times I say those words. I concentrate on picking bits of wafer off my cone and throwing them to the ducks loitering nearby, waiting for some sort of treat.

“So it always was just my uncle and me.” I carry on talking. “Then he died… seven...seven years ago…” I can hear my voice start to crack as I fight back tears. A hand creeps into my vision and I gratefully accept the proffered paper napkin and wipe my face.

“Och, lass.” He says softly.

I clear my throat. “I'm sorry. We were having a nice conversation and then there I go, getting all teary. It’s just, well, we were a team, Uncle Lamb and I… the two musketeers. He was my hero.”

Blowing my nose in a most unladylike way, I toss the napkin into the neighbouring bin.

“And that’s pretty much me. As for a confession, well… I suppose it’s kind of one.”

He raises one eyebrow quizzically, making a better job of that than the whole winking lark, I think.

"Ok, well, when I had your case, I tried to ring before I emailed you. I called the number in your case… twice. A woman answered and told me I had the wrong number—"

"Laoghaire."

"I know that now. But she obviously knew how to get onto your phone."

"Why did ye no' tell me?" He smiles as he says this. It's not a reprimand.

"I would have but you seemed to be coming to a conclusion anyway. No need to add more fuel to the fire."

"Happen ye're right."

He notices me shivering and gets to his feet. “Aye, there’s a bit of a chill. Fancy a wee walk tae warm up and we can carry on wi’ round two. It’s a quick fire round.”

I stand up and we move away from the pond. The ducks have already lost interest in us since they realise that we’ve nothing more to offer them. It’s pretty quiet in the park now, the cooler evening air seems to have kept people at home. The gravel crunching loudly under the soles of our shoes, I glance down and notice Jamie’s doing a sort of awkward stuttering movement with his feet. He’s clearly trying to match his stride pattern to mine. Which isn’t easy when his must be a good few inches longer than mine. Nice, considerate gesture, though.

“Sae, quick fire questions and answers. Ye can go first,” he says generously.

It only takes me a moment to think of a question that I have been wondering about ever since I explored the contents of his suitcase.

“What were you doing in Barcelona? I mean the contents of your case weren’t really fun-weekend-away stuff.”

“Nah, ye’re right. It wasna a holiday—flying visit only. I was there on business—talking tae a food wholesale company. Serrano ham, chorizo, saffron, that kind of thing,” he explains, a look of excitement on his face. “We’re expanding our range, starting with Spanish influenced recipes. A full three courses ready tae prepare, plus wine delivered straight tae yer door. Dinner party FraserFood style.”

He can’t stop smiling as he talks about these plans. And his hands move animatedly as he continues to elaborate on his new venture. His business is obviously his passion. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t got the desire for a relationship with a girlfriend—FraserFood seems to be his one love. No girl could compete.

He stops talking for a moment. “And here I am, boring ye.”

I shake my head. “Not at all, it’s really interesting.” I don’t have to lie. It’s the truth. My mouth is watering at his description of albondigas and flavoursome chicken and chorizo with cannellini beans. I’m ready to sign up for this delivery service any time.

“Sae, ma turn tae ask a question. Tell me, d’ye like this shirt?”

I try to stifle a laugh. The question is so unexpected and the shirt so awful. Trying to be diplomatic, I search for the right words, evading the actual question. “I’ve only seen you in white tops before, no colours.”

He sighs. “Ye’ve only seen me twice afore... anyway I dinna think ye need tae say any more. I ken ye’re being polite, but ye’re a terrible liar. I can tell by yer face ye dinna like this shirt. Laoghaire hated it, always made me change it. I did wonder if that was jes’ her being difficult. But apparently no’.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Ye dinna need tae apologise, Claire. Being honest is a good thing, is it no’? And friends should always tell each other the truth. And that’s what I think we’re going tae be, Claire— friends. D’ye no’ agree?”

I crane my neck and look Jamie straight in the eye. “Yes, I do… friends.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #Just a Friend #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Chapter 5

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Survival.”

I had a lot of fun writing this one. Honestly being inside his head is so much fun, and I hope you all like it :). Hope it makes you laugh today.

So, I survived….

Surprise!

Not sure how that is going to turn out for me, and as I wake up lying back down in the sand and my right hand chilled from the cool inland ocean, I begin to realize that the awful ordeal I had gone through wasn’t just a dream. At first it felt like it, warm sand below my back and cool water on my fingertips. Somewhere birds are chirping, and I lay there for a while simply soaking in heaven, that is until I hear the secondary explosion as one the aux engines which jolts me upright sitting there covered in sand, my clothes singed, my arms aching from minor burns…. Completely alone.

Looking around I realize that this is not in fact earth, those are not, in fact birds, and I am not, in fact dead and being shown to heaven, but in fact much of the opposite. This is not earth, those look like tiny dinosaurs, and this is honestly, probably hell.

I take a minute to get my bearings before slowly crawling my way to my feet stumbling upright. The prosthetic takes most of the weight as I limp up the beach and back towards the wreckage of the command deck. I don’t expect to get much out of it considering that the entire thing is on fucking fire, but give me a bit of a break, less than a day ago I had been plunging towards a blakhole (or what I thought was a black hole that clearly turned out to not be) sure that I was going to die. In a way I was just a little pissed off. Don’t get me wrong, its not because I WANTED to die, I am actually one of the few humans on the face of the galaxy who enjoys living, but simply because I had accepted the fact that I was going to die. I had made peace with it, I had expected it, but instead I had been thrown into one of the worst warp experiences of my life, rattled around inside the command deck and then crash landed spectacularly onto an unknown planet.

I mean, it didn’t look like any place I Had ever seen before. Sure the sand and the ocean were almost natural, but tall, skinny, thousand foot trees certainly weren't, and neither were the large shelled crustaceans shambling up the beach .

I sighed and sat down in the sand with a soft plop watching as fire continued to smolder at the wreckage of my ship. It was only now that I realized my shoes were gone, and I could feel the sand between my toes.

Then the slight hissing hits me, and I turn to look down at my arm where a glint of bright silver catches my attention.

The iron eye suit.

I hadn’t had time to take it off.

I flexed my fingers watching the mid morning light run up and down the metal.

Ok, that was interesting.

Of course my dumbass had managed to take off the jetpack at some point….. shit.

I flopped back in the sand staring up at the sky. It was all coming back to me now, the entire ordeal from start to finish. The fight with the Kree, the space battle --that was arguably pretty fucking awesome…. Eat your heart out kirk-- and finally my destruction of the ship and my journey to the sort of blackish but not really, hole.

It occured to me: Everyone thought I was dead.

That stopped my musings for a second. What would happen? They wouldn’t look for me…. Would they? Then again UNSC policy held that no man was considered KIA until there was a body. I would be pronounced missing in action though assumed dead.

Someone else would be given command, my ship would have to be repaired, and meanwhile the crew would be disbanded or sent on leave.

Katie, maverick, Ramirez, Krill, Conn, Narobi, Cannon…. They all thought I was dead.

Waffles?

Fuck… thinking about her made me want to cry. Like I am going to be honest here guys, when a dog dies in a movie or when a dog is sad in a movie because their human dies, I don’t give a shit about the human, but I will cry. I will cry like a weenie because the dog is sad.

Like when all three of your brothers are sitting on your right hand side, and you have this magic ability to be water falling out of one eye while the other is dry to save face with your manhood kind of cry, no? Is that just me

Then my family, my father, my mother, my brothers. What would this do to them? They'd be devastated sure… Imagining my mother hearing about my untimely death was heartbreaking, and I was worried more than ever about Thoams. His quiet struggle with heroin addiction, and his recent one year sobriety was a big step for him…. Would my death mean setting him back? Was I that important to him that something might happen? He never dealt with stress well, so what was going to happen.

And… Sunny?

I had saved her life, yes but what had I done to her in the process? I had made her watch me die, unable to do anything. I had made her helpless, a victim of circumstance: something I knew she would never forgive herself for. I may have saved her life but…. I possibly ruined her in the process.

…

It's a good thing my brothers weren’t here because I wasn’t going to be able to do the one eye waterfall trick. This time it was going to be both eyes…. Still mad that that screwdriver hadn’t ruined my tear ducts too, I could have benefited from that.

I’d say I took about five six minutes to myself to be a pathetic bitch lying there in the sand feeling sorry for myself, and then I wiped my eyes manned up and got to my feet.

Alright.

I looked around at the open planet and the smouldering wreckage of my once beautiful ship. There was only one option here. I had to find a way out, or at least a way to survive, so maybe one day someone might find me somehow…. Yeah yeah yeah I get it is unfounded optimism and it is totally not going to happen, but let a man dream a little.

I was going to have to channel the spirit of one of my childhood idols.

Mark Watney

You know from that book about the guy who gets stuck on mars by himself for a year, the one that was made into a pretty good movie with Matt Damon.

I liked both the book and the movie though they diverge a little towards the end:you know, because hollywood.

There are a couple of problems with this plan of course…. Number one being that I am not a super smart engineer botanist. I am in fact, a fighter pilot, and a raging idiot.

I mean granted I did go to that pilot training school where they drop you out into the forest for a month and tell you good luck, that sucked shit, so it's not like I am completely helpless but still.

However, luckily for me, unlike Mark, I don’t have to worry about air, or water. Granted I have to worry about food, but in a different way. I don’t know what here would be edible to humans, so I am going to have to read carefully. THere is also the issue of clean water which Mark never had to worry about, I do.

YEah, I get it, our circumstances are very different, but I think what I want to channel most about him is his attitude, nihilistically optimistic.

I am going to survive this.

I look up at the sky watching as the planet’s rings glow dimly overhead through the blue atmospheric haze.

First thing was first, water, food and a weapon.

Fun fact about my model of ship:It is already ready for a scenario like this and has emergency packs stored under every seat of the bridge. Of course the problem there being the bridge is now on fire.

I walk over to the ocean and cut strips of my uniform to tie around my hands. I know it won’t give me much, ut it is better than nothing. Then I dunk myself in the water. It’s cold and causes me to shiver, but the air around me is warm, so I am not so worried.

I turn and head back towards the ship keeping a distance from the larger fires and heading towards the more smouldering ones. I don’t strike much luck to begin with, but eventually I manage to haul out one emergency pack from under one of the crew chairs. MY hands get a bit singed in the process, and the hot metal causes me to yowl like an angry cat and drop the case to the ground, but at least I have something.

I wait or it to cool off for a few minutes before dragging it back up the beach and sitting down to open.

Jackpot!

I have a canteen (with purifier) one of those filtration straws, to make the inland ocean my cup, and a handy little device that analyses organic material and tells you if it's edible or not.

I love living in the future

I also had emergency blankets, fire starting material, a knife, a flair gun, a radio. This was also along with a couple of other odds and ends like a compass, paracord, first aid kit, inflatable life raft, a multi-tool , monocular, and a box of nails.

The first aid kit included, bandages, antibiotic ointment, antibiotics of the general: for whatever stabs or infects you variety, painkillers, a turnakit, sewing needle and thread, staple gun: sort of, gauze anti-inflammatories, and fuck yes, a razon a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

If i ever got off this planet and back home I was to kiss whoever made this case, man woman does not mater, they are getting a kiss, cheek if they happen to be married of course, but if they really insist I um up for full mouth contact on the person who saved my life.

All jesting aside, this was good, and I first went to go get a drink of water.

HYdrations is important kiddos.

Next I had to tend to my injuries, minor burns and scrapes, bruises that I could do nothing about. Then it was time for a little shelter, which i erected with great ease between a couple of the strange tall trees, using torn up ferns to provide bedding on the inside and a canopy overhead.

I was feeling pretty badass right now, survivor style, though lets be honest, I was kind of lame since I had so much help from the magic box of wonderful mysticalities.

You know between this gox of medicine and the arc of the covenant, I would definitely pick this box first, for sure.

Took me a good day or two to get settled, and I’ll admit it wasn’t easy.

Gathering food was fine, I found some berries and fruits off of nearby plants, a couple of roots that were ok to eat, and even some of the crustaceans were palatable once I cooked them, using my fire pit and laying them out over a slab of discarded ship metal.

But there were a couple things I failed to think about.

A couple of things being

1# there is no fucking TP on this planet, also I had to dig a hole for fear of accidentally giving myself cholera or some nasty thing on accident by contaminating a water supply.

2# bed uncomfortable

3# no sunscreen

4# After a couple days your really start to smell like ass, now hold on for a minute there, I am completely in the habit of washing my ass,I promise, but I am telling you unwashed human just smells like ass, no way around it, greasy nasty sweaty stank.

The clothes don’t help obviously, and I found a way to wash the clothes by rubbing them in the sand and using some sweet smelling leaves.

OF course you know the problem with all that, right?

Naked.

While on laundry day I am completely nude out in the sun on a tropical planet. If someone were to go flying overhead, they would see more than they bargained for, and way more than they wanted as my pasty white ass flapped around in the breeze as they drove by.

A change of clothes was in order, so I spent the day, while my clothes were being washed, sitting on the sidelines using plant material, scraps and thread to pull together a rudimentary grass skirt/ loincloth of sorts

Now don’t think it didn’t cross my mind everyone.

I half expected god to descend from the sky and ask me what I was doing.

This whole covering your junk with leaves thing seems to be a theme for people named Adam

And yes that was a biblical reference, I am in fact named after the first man, so this is a fitting bonding moment for me and my namesake.

The biggest issue of course is when everything slows down, late at night as I am trying to fall asleep, and I realize that…. I may be stuck here forever.

I will grow old and die alone on this island.

And no one will ever know.

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

On This Night and in This Light (1/3)

Emma Swan knows she's pretty good at what she does.

Helping the magically afflicted and affected find jobs in this realm isn't the most glamorous thing in the world, and, sure, there's a lot of paperwork, but she figures she's helping people and that's the important thing. It's structured. Calm, even.

Until. It's always until.

Killian Jones shows up with his stupid smirk and his tendency to lean against the door frame in Emma's office and his distinct lack of magic. Or knowledge of what they're really doing at Mills Personnel. Everything kind of goes off the rails after that.

----

Rating: Teen, but I’m me, so kissing is guaranteed Word Count: About 6.5K this chapter AN: About a week ago @shireness-says sent me this post, about a job agency that specifically helped people with supernatural abilities or supernatural problems find a job. I believe my exact response was “Don’t do this to me” and then Devon probably laughed or something and over the course of the last three days I wrote about 19-thousand words. Nonsense is guaranteed, as is the kissing, hopefully some banter and a bunch of magic. The next two chapters probably Tuesday and Thursday of next week?

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

----

“So, that’s basically it. The guy was cursed, super greedy and—” “—Babe c’mon, that’s my dad.”

The guy shrugs.

Which Emma figures is pretty fair, all things considered. Although she also can’t remember his name, so maybe she’s a quasi-villain in this story. She’s fairly certain it’s in the paperwork. The guy’s name, not her potential villain status.

In her defense, that one lightbulb above her head is very distracting. Flickering on and off, she’s going to have to tell Graham about it, which will probably somehow alert Regina and Emma isn’t sure she’s capable of dealing with Regina right now. It’s been a very long morning.

At— she glances at the tiny string of numbers in the bottom corner of her computer monitor, nine twenty-six in the morning.

“Jeez,” Emma mumbles, drawing the attention of both of the people sitting in front of her. Not very often that a pair comes in. She supposes that’s nice.

In an overwhelmingly, romantic kind of way.

God, maybe she’s bitter.

She’s totally bitter. Thinking anything else is ridiculous.

And if Emma doesn’t get some coffee soon, she’s going to fall asleep at her desk and inevitably offend this nameless, albeit nice-looking guy who until recently was spending his days as a solid-gold statue in front of an antiques store on Broome Street.

“Not—not you guys,” Emma says quickly, and the girlfriend’s eyes widen. Her name is Abigail. Emma’s, like, forty-six percent positive.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” maybe-Abigail says. “It was...well, Freddie was very heroic about it. Protecting my dad and—he was head of security at the building. Kids thought it’d be funny to try and break in, but Freddie was—” “—Courageous?” “Very. The kids wanted my dad’s gift, but Freddie wouldn’t let them near him. Of course that made sure he was close to my dad and he...well, he got touched by accident and....”

Humming noncommittally, Emma lets the rest of the details float into the back of her mind. She doesn’t particularly want to hear this story. Most of them are the same, anyway. Heroic deeds beget undeserved rewards, and there’s always some sort of deus ex machina fix that’s inevitably magical, and she figures that’s part of the deal at this place, but that bitterness of hers runs far deeper than she’s willing to admit. “And you didn’t want to go back to work at the cursed dad’s office?” Freddie shakes his head. “Not really all that interested in security anymore. Ya get frozen for three years and it kinda loses its shine, y’know?” “Makes sense,” Emma replies, and she hates to admit it takes her that long to realize what he just said. Maybe she should have read the paperwork closer. She didn’t have time. “Wait, wait did you say three years?” “And, uh, like fourteen days. That’s right, right babe?” Abigail smiles. That must be the answer. “We’re just looking for a fresh start. My dad is—well, maybe greedy is the right word. He doesn’t view this as a curse, it's...I called it a gift before, didn't I?” Emma nods, trying desperately to ignore the state of that light bulb. “Nothing we do is going to change his mind. He’s going to keep it, and he tries to be careful, but—one wrong move and there’s a golden something right in front of you. We don’t want to risk it again. That’s why we came here. It’s supposed to be the best placement service in the city.”

Biting back the immediate retort of it’s the only placement service like this in the city, Emma plasters what she can only hope is an encouraging smile on her face. The lightbulb stops flickering.

It dies. Completely.

She hopes that’s not a sign.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” she stammers, before turning back to her keyboard and a monitor with time that must be going backwards. “So, three years removed from any interaction with society and that’s—” Her smile is making her cheek muscles ache. “What kind of skills do you have, Mr. Greyston? Any specific interests or ideas about what you want to do?”

Freddie does not have any ideas. Or interests. Or concerns besides Abigail, it seems. Who is not just his girlfriend, but his fiancée, and a rather vocal wealth of both ideas and interests, none of which fit any of the potential jobs Emma spends the next forty-seven minutes finding.

Something is wrong with each and every one. Wrong location. Too far a commute. Weird hours. Requires a uniform and—“Have you seen the width of Freddie’s shoulders? There’s no way he’d be able to wear a mass-produced jacket like that.”

Emma hasn’t been paying much attention to the width of Freddie’s shoulders, honestly.

She’s far more preoccupied with the pain blooming behind her left eye and, somehow, at the base of her skull and she’s a few seconds away from turning both Freddie and Abigail into frogs when she hears footsteps approaching her half-open office door and he actually has the gall to cross his feet at the ankle when he leans against the frame.

“What about personal training?”

Both Abigail and Freddie freeze. One of them tilts their head. Presumably in thought. Emma can’t be bothered figuring out which one.

Not with her fingers hovering over her keys, the pop of her lips as they fall open sounding far louder than it should and the stranger leaning against her door frame smiles at her.

Smirks, really. One side of mouth tugs up, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled halfway up his forearms. It’s offensive, that’s what it is.

As is the overall shade of blue in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” Emma asks. Demands, honestly. One word comes out sharper than the last, drawing a soft chuckle from the questionably good-looking stranger and that’s—

No. No compliments. Just insults. Of the sharp-tongued variety.

Most curses require a sharp tongue, in Emma’s experience. And she suddenly finds herself fantasizing about the several different ways she could curse this self-assured bastard to the other side of the office.

“I think, love,” he says, leaning forward like that’s allowed, “I might be able to help you. Couldn’t help but overhear—” “—Because you were eavesdropping?” “Inevitable when your voice carries the way it does.”

Her mouth is already hanging open, so Emma can only imagine what she looks like when it feels as if her eyes are also intent on falling out of her face. Not great, if the increased smirk'ness of the smirk is any indication.

Smirk'ness is not a word.

“Personal training could be kind of cool,” Freddie muses with interest. Abigail beams. Emma comes up with twenty-nine different curse possibilities. “Don’t you need something for that, though? Like a certificate or something?” Blue-eyed bastard, fuckface chuckles again. “You do, in fact. ‘Fraid you can’t simply approach strangers and start training them. But the requirements aren’t hard to complete and there’s always a fairly high demand for trainers. People want to get in shape, y’know?” Suggesting that there’s no way this guy with his stupid sleeves could know the exact tone Freddie had used to a voice very similar question not even an hour earlier is as stupid as his sleeves, but Emma cannot rationalize any of this and she should have known he was out there.

Lurking in the hallway, as it were.

There’s always some sort of—signal. A smell. A flicker of familiarity that ripples up her spine and latches to the back of her brain and she assumes the migraine that now seems pretty inevitable is not that. It’s just painful.

Nothing else. She didn’t feel anything. She should have felt something, unless—

“No,” she gasps, and she’s got to get a handle on her audible reactions. “I, uh—I mean, no, no, that’s a great idea, actually. What do you think Mr. Greyston?”

Freddie narrows his eyes. “I...I just said it sounded cool.” “He did,” the wanker with that one piece of wayward hair hanging across his forehead says, “I heard it. Didn’t you hear it?” Nodding emphatically, Abigail is far too quickly swayed by all of this. “I did and that’s—Emma, why didn’t you think of that before?” Anger curls low in Emma’s gut. Rises in the back of her throat and threatens to scorch every inch of her tongue, like that’s something an emotion is capable of. Fisting her hands under her desk, the edges of her nails leave crescent-moon shaped cuts on her palm, but she doesn’t have another outlet for the energy running through her.

Especially if she’s right.

She’s seventy-two percent positive she’s right. Which is better than how she felt about Abigail’s name, and she was totally right about that, so.

Math, or whatever.

“Didn’t even cross my mind,” Emma admits through clenched teeth. “But thankfully we’re a collaborative effort here at Mills Personnel, and it’s always good to get multiple opinions, including some from our newest—” Swallowing her tongue isn’t the most embarrassing thing Emma can do in a moment like this, but it’s starting to feel somewhere in the top five and if this guy doesn’t stop staring at her like that she’s going to scream.

Or self combust with magic.

Her magic appears to be running on overdrive.

“Killian Jones,” he says, answering a question she hadn’t actually gotten around to asking. “It’s my first day,”

“Is it just?” His answering hum isn’t as sarcastic as Emma’s was. She supposes that’s another failure of hers today. Her brain’s already started making a list. “Did you know they have an espresso machine in the break room?” “I work here,” Emma answers.

“As I can see. Just—” “—Trying to tell me about espresso?” The other side of his mouth moves. That suggests Emma is staring at his mouth, which she might be, honestly. When she isn’t wholly preoccupied with his eyes or that one strand of hair, and she can’t believe that one strand of hair exists, but she’s also a witch and Freddie was made of gold and she never did ask how they managed to fix that.

Emma’s starting to wonder if she actually sucks at her job.

“Make conversation,” Killian says. “And maybe help a little bit. That’s the gig, isn’t it?” None of the muscles in Emma’s neck are particularly interested in nodding, but her hair moves so that must mean she accomplishes at least some sort of movement and the two pairs of eyes sitting in wholly uncomfortable chairs opposite her are watching the scene with open interest. “Alright,” she says brusquely, certain Killian’s eyes get brighter, “Mr. Greyston, let’s start working on a plan for getting your certification and then we can set up some contacts with area gyms.”

She’s not sure when Killian leaves, exactly.

Only that he doesn’t try closing the door behind him and when Emma walks into the breakroom thirty-one minutes later, there’s a post-it with ridiculously swirly handwriting clinging to the espresso machine. Try this one, it says.

And that doesn’t really make sense. It’s an espresso machine, there aren’t a ton of different options. Emma’s almost charmed all the same.

It wasn’t True Love’s Kiss.

Frederik Greyston wasn’t released from his gilded prison by the most sweepingly romantic bit of magic in the world. It was water from Nostos, which Emma knows is expensive and hard to come by, but knowing the little she does about Abigail’s father, it makes sense and she’s disappointed all the same.

Six years working at Mills Personnel and still not a single person has been saved by the power of True Love’s supposed Kiss.

She’s starting to think it doesn’t even exist.

Honestly, the whole thing is Mary Margaret’s fault.

She’s the one who got Emma the job after all, and maybe that’s more a commentary on Emma’s disinterest in joining the traditional workforce or being a functioning member of society, but she’s also quick to argue that society hasn’t really done much for her lately. Not a ton of professional options for someone with a record and the tendency to glow every now and then.

So, Emma had agreed to the interview.

On a Thursday at two in the afternoon, at the office tucked into the bottom floor of a building on 62nd Street, with etched letters on the door.

Mills Personnel, it said.

And still does, really. Not much has changed since Emma first walked into Regina’s office, least of all the lettering on her door, but she’d like to believe she’s maybe a bit more confident than she was that time and—

“Regina, is this a joke?” Emma asks, not able to sit in one of the chairs. Pacing seems entirely more reasonable, even as the muscles in her calves start to ache. “Because it can’t—none of this makes any sense.” “Why not?” “Repeating myself is redundant.” Making a noise Emma can only assume is an agreement, Regina doesn’t bother looking up from the paperwork in her hands. Another client. Another problem. Something else Killian Jones can probably solve.

Nearly a week after the incident in Emma’s office, the new guy is apparently some kind of job placement wunderkind, able to match any person with their dream position while also boasting a wealth of contacts across the city. Yelp reviews have appeared in droves — sent to Emma nearly every morning because apparently Ruby has some sort of sick sense of humor, and only a few of them mention Killian’s rolled-up sleeves.

That’s insane.

Emma can’t imagine not mentioning his rolled-up sleeves.

Maybe she’s part of the problem, actually. Just like—with society, as a whole.

“You want to repeat yourself, don’t you?” Regina asks knowingly, drawing a strangled sound out of Emma that nearly makes her trip mid-pace. One should not affect the other. And yet. Everything seems to be falling apart in rather quick succession, the kind of worry that’s already taken root in the center of her and wrapped its way around every single one of her ribs, and she’s got no idea how many ribs she’s currently in possession, but she figures it’s got to be a lot.

Based almost entirely on the constant tightness in her chest.

“How are you not freaking out about this?” Regina shrugs. “Nothing’s going to happen. People love him.” “People think he’s got a good-looking face.” “You think that and—” Sputtering on her own inevitably witty retort, if only she could get it out, Emma can’t do much more than dramatically exhale as soon as Regina does lift her eyes. Leveling her with that same look she’d used during Emma’s initial interview, like she’s got all the answers in the world and will be willing to share them.

Eventually. At her leisure.

“He doesn't have magic,” Emma hisses, feeling as if she’s lost her last tether to reality. No one else is worried about this. Ruby has at least eighty-four opinions on Killian’s face. David’s not totally swayed, but thinks the guy’s at least doing a good job so far. Mary Margaret wants to invite him to game night next week.

To play goddamn Settlers of Catan. Like they’re normal people. And not witches, or some other unnecessarily gendered description of magic-users.

“He—he,” Emma continues, and now her hands have joined the fray. Waving them around her head only makes her feel more insane. “How can you think that he’ll be able to place people in jobs when he doesn’t know why they really need jobs?” Her voice cracking on the question can’t help her cause much.

But Emma needs this to stay the same. She needs consistency and maybe not comfort, but comfort-adjacent and the fucking Settlers of Catan. At some point, she’s going to win that dumb game, she’s positive.

And Killian Jones poses a very real threat to all of those alliterative sentiments.

Because Mills Personnel is not a normal job placement organization. Emma’s not even sure it’s an organization, technically. Maybe an LLC.

She’s not a lawyer.

The point is, it caters to—a slightly different sort of clientele. The kind that’s been affected by magic. Whether that’s because they’re in possession of it, or have been cursed by it, or are only spending some time in this realm while hiding from a revenge-prone dragon in their homeland, who also happened to be their mother, and need a job while they wait it out.

That last one has always been Emma’s personal favorite. Lily spent three years working for an appraiser on Park Avenue.

She was really good at it.

And Emma is good at this. At helping. At providing people with their own plan, and their own possibilities and she has got to get off this alliterative kick because—

“Hey,” Regina mutters, nodding towards Emma’s hands. Both of which are dangerously close to phosphorescent “Reign it in for me, huh?” “Seriously, how can you be so calm about this?”

“He needed a job.” “What? How did you even find him?” Squeezing one eye shut, Regina clicks her tongue thoughtfully and it’s almost enough to make her seem like a normal person. Instead of a person who can regularly summon fireballs from her palms. “Friend of Robin’s. I think you met him last solstice party, but—that’s not the important part. Anyway, we worked with Scarlet once. Or David did, helped him get a job in Brooklyn after he’d been stoned in Wonderland.” “I’m sorry, stoned in Wonderland?” “Mmhm, literally. Anyway, his girlfriend’s known Killian for years and he just moved to New York and one thing led to another and here we are.” “Here we are,” Emma echoes. “The repeating thing isn’t just redundant, it’s obnoxious,” Regina sighs, finally moving the papers. It’s not a victory for Emma. Not when it only ensures Regina can also lean back in her chair, cross her arms over her chest and tilt her head at that very specific angle that practically radiates judgment. “He just needs some money for a couple of months. He’ll be out of here before anyone will have a chance to enlighten him on what he’s actually doing.” “Giving jobs to magical people.” “Not all of them are magical,” Regina argues, “some of them have just been impacted by magical forces.” “Yuh huh. And how exactly are we hiding all of these magical forces from Killian Jones, totally mortal human being?” The head tilt’s at nearly forty-five degrees now. “You are mortal, you know that right? It’s important that you know that.”

“I know that,” Emma snaps, flickers of light falling from her fingertips for good measure. “I just—when you hired me, you made it very clear that the line between magic and the rest of the world was tenuous at best. We just...we exist and hope no one burns us at the stake, but now you’re totally cool with some inherently normal guy being here. Everything we do is going to freak him out.” “It hasn’t already. And so long as you stop sparking at regular intervals, I think you’ll be fine.” “I’m not worried about me.”

Widening her eyes, Regina's judgment reaches across the questionably originate mahogany desk, hangs in the air for all of fourteen seconds and then smacks Emma squarely across the face. In a magical sort of way that makes her skin tingle.

“Not cool,” she mumbles, but Regina doesn’t do much more than sneer. “Alright, fine, fine, you think this is a totally great idea—” “—I didn’t say it was great. I said it wasn’t going to be as bad as you thought it was going to be, and we’re doing some old customers a favor.” “Sounds suspiciously like nepotism.” “Or good business.”

Emma rolls her eyes. She’s getting another migraine. “Tell all your friends about Mills Personnel, the only option for the magical and magic-damaged to ensure they can keep paying their rent.” “Not as catchy as I’d like, but I accept that it’s a work in progress.”

“Yeah, yeah, something like that.” Having never sat down, it’s easy for Emma to make a quick and relatively drama-free exit from Regina’s office, swinging open the door and marching into the hallway and—

“Ah, fuck,” she grunts, slamming into something far too solid to be anything except another human being. Who smells suspiciously like laundry detergent and salt water.

“Swan.”

She blinks. Once. Twice. Tries to remember that she is in fact mortal, and that requires a consistent stream of oxygen in her lungs. But breathing is something of a challenge now, and he’s smirking at her when she finally lifts her head. “What are you doing?” “Walking,” Killian answers easily, but there’s a hint of laughter clinging to the word that manages to frustrate Emma and do the exact opposite all at once. “Do you have somewhere especially important to go?” “No, no, that’s—why do you say that?” “Seems you’re in something of a rush.” “Or you take up way too much of the hallway.” Full-blown laughter is at least twenty-thousand times better than the clinging variety or whatever sound Emma’s managed to imagine he makes in the last week or so. She hasn’t imagined it that much. She’s a God awful liar, actually.

“That might be true,” Killian admits, taking a step back, and there’s a pile of papers resting on his hip. A pen barely stays behind his ear, that same wayward strand of hair taking up residence across his forehead and the rolled-up sleeves of this shirt appear to have some sort of floral pattern on them.

“What are—” Emma swallows. Licks her lips, Tries not to spend too long thinking about the undeniable way Killian’s eyes fall to her lips. “Where are you going?” “Back to my office. Woman in there who claims her only talent is singing, but she’s not too keen on performing. Says she doesn’t want to draw a spotlight. So, trying to come up with some other options for her.” Mind racing, Emma tries to figure out what the woman actually is or who she’s hiding from, but explaining any of that is impossible and she’s admittedly having some trouble forming sentences when Killian keeps doing that thing with his face. Having one.

“Any suggestions?” he asks, and there’s no sarcasm. No joke. Just blatant interest and possibly some veiled hope, which is not a word Emma’s all that familiar with.

That’s more Mary Margaret’s schtick, and at least this is passably cyclical. Somehow this has to be Mary Margaret’s fault too.

“What about working for a promoter or something?” Emma ventures. “You know—backstage sort of stuff. Keep her in the industry, let her work with other talent, but none of that pesky spotlight. Probably plenty of people looking for an assistant or something.”

Stunned surprise could be very insulting, as far as expression-based responses go. Luckily for Killian and his face, it’s a pretty fantastic look. Particularly when it’s directed at Emma. And mixed in with something that feels suspiciously like awe.

She’s not especially concerned with the adjectives. All she knows is it makes her magic roar in her ears, threatening to knock her knees together.

“Wow,” he mutters, “that’s genius.” “Happens from time to time.” “More often if breakroom information is anything to go by.”

On second thought, embarrassed regret is her new unexpected favorite. Color dots Killian’s cheeks, a red tinge to the tip of his ears and it really says far more about him than Emma’s powers of observation that it’s only now she realizes he’s missing his left hand.

“I, uh—” Killian stutters, and Emma can’t help the stretch of her smile, “well it’s not that I’m gossiping about you per se, just...making conversation.” “And I’m a hot topic of conversation?” “No, no, you’re just—” His inability to finish sentences is also oddly endearing, the muscles in his throat moving as he swallows back what Emma can only hope would be a slightly twisted compliment. Regarding her and the word hot. “Well, I appreciate the help. Sometimes it feels like it’s impossible to get a straight answer out of these people. None of them know what they want to do.” Cold sweeps over Emma, in the form of crushing realization and a return to a reality with starkly-lit hallways. He doesn’t know. Can’t know. About this place, or what it really does, and Regina’s surprisingly cavalier attitude aside, non-magic users finding themselves in the entirely magical world never ends well.

Someone always gets hurt.

“Yeah, no problem,” Emma says as she takes her own step back, and that shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. “If—I mean if you ever get another hard one or…”

Her face is on fire, she’s sure. Spontaneous combustion would be a small miracle, giving her a legitimate out of this conversation and the latest expression that’s now standing several feet away from her. Self-satisfied, that’s the word.

Or phrase, as the case may be.

“If you need some more ideas,” she clarifies, “I’m around. You helped me with that Greyston case, after all.” It’s not a cease fire or metaphorical hatchet buried under Regina’s questionable taste in carpet, but it’s something and if this is going to happen, then Emma reasons she might as well try and keep it all in check. Helping Killian helps everyone, really.

She’ll repeat that on mental loop for several hours if necessary.

Right after she stops obsessing over the precise way he leans forward, ducks into her eye line and says, “thanks, Swan.”

It isn’t until she’s managed to plug her phone in, exhaustion creeping up her spine and fluttering behind half-closed eyelids that Emma realizes she never once told Killian her name.

When she was twelve years old, she lit up. Like, her whole body. Light hung from the ends of her hair and circled her right wrist, wrapped its way up her arms and settled on either one of her shoulders until it was difficult for anyone to spend too long looking at Emma.

None of it was on purpose.

Magic’s always been something almost instinctual, at least for Emma, and the yelling from the living room of the latest foster home she’d only recently been shipped to had been grating on her ears long enough that she didn’t know what else to do. She reacted. Power rippled off her in perfect cadence with her frustration, and she hadn’t known all those words when she was twelve, but she’d known exactly how everyone would respond and Emma was not disappointed.

At least not like that.

Standing halfway down the steps, she’d glowed. Bright and determined, like being strong enough would protect the rest of the kids in that house, and that was never really Emma’s job, but she always felt like she could do something more, or should do something else and—

They’d sent her back the next day.

Something about a bad fit and just not right and that second thing could have been the sub-headline of Emma’s entire life.

Just not right.

Nothing about her was right. Her magic was often untempered and prone to outbursts, flashes that Emma couldn’t always control and inevitably led to lingering glances and confused stares that rather quickly morphed into fear when they looked too long.

Sometimes people pretend they’re not totally freaked out. Sometimes they tell her that she’s ok, every lie settling under her skin like it’s something she should believe in, and it’s been awhile since Emma’s allowed something like that to happen, but she imagines there’s a cliché about scars and the way they don’t always disappear and—

That’s not important.

History is just that and Emma’s not one to make the same mistake twice. Or at least make it more than twice, and she might be intrigued by Killian Jones, with his smirk and his stupid sleeves, but she doesn’t entirely trust him yet.

She can’t imagine that changing any time soon.

She nearly runs into whoever is opening the Mills Personnel front door at five-oh-four on a Friday evening.

It’s a habit Emma would like to break sooner rather than later, this trend of not looking where she’s going — although, if she’s being honest it’s also because she’s distracted, and has been since the game night announcement, and the phone in her pocket hasn't stopped buzzing for the last hour, the most recent texts regarding pre-game night plottings and alliances for Settlers of Catan or whatever else they decide to play.

She has respond to Mary Margaret soon.

Presumably after she apologizes to the woman she very nearly plowed over, and it’s almost the end of business, but this woman doesn’t look like she operates on traditional schedules and—

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma says, backing up quickly. Partially because of good manners. And the rest because of the look on the woman’s face.

Furious. A little threatening. Decidedly magical.

“I’m looking for Ms. Mills.” “Right, yeah, of course. She’s, uh—” Emma’s phone buzzes again, and she knows it’s another message about games. What she can figure out is why that particular thought leaves her feeling frozen and a little threatened and the woman’s eyes narrow at the first shift of Emma’s magic. “Still in her office, I think. I can let her know you’re here, if…” The woman doesn’t nod. Doesn’t move, really. And all Emma wants is to sprint out of that office and maybe to her couch, but she can’t seem to move any of her limbs and the clack of Regina’s heels is strangely hypnotic.

“Zelena. What are you doing here?” Rolling her shoulders back, the woman Emma assumes is Zelena only looks passably annoyed at being addressed by her first name. “We have some things to talk about.”

“That so?” “Several, I’d say. You have a few minutes?” It doesn’t sound like an actual request, hackles that are more likely part of Ruby’s genetic makeup than Emma’s rising as Zelena breezes by her. Glancing over her shoulder, she notices a muscle in Regina’s temple jumping.

“You want me to stick around?” Regina shakes her head. “No, I’ll be fine.”

“Ok, but—” “—Go, Emma,” Regina finishes, and there’s no mistaking the command in those words. She nods once, not running into anyone else on her way out and hoping the sense of dread currently twisting itself around one of her kidneys is only those pessimistic tendencies of hers, instead of the warning she’s worried it actually is.

The problem is, she likes him.

Like, as a human being. Mortal or otherwise. No other reason. Nothing to do with his hair or his eyes or that dim, but still visible scar on his left cheek.

She just—

They might be friends. Emma hopes they’re friends.

Over the next two weeks she comes to realize that Killian is not only very good at his job — the siren who was certain her only talent was singing in dimly lit clubs and inevitably luring grown men to their doom, but wanted to turn over a new leaf, without telling him any of that, of course, sent a gift basket to thank him for all the help — but he’s funny, and more than capable of working the espresso machine so it doesn’t produce its usual bitter swill, and, Emma realizes, one Wednesday afternoon, a little lonely.

“Trying to find somewhere to live in this city is impossible,” he announces, slumped in one of the breakroom chairs with a stack of files splayed in front of him. “Like a needle in a haystack.” “Try finding somewhere with laundry on site,” Emma grins, “and then talk to me.” “Sounds like a palace, and that’s far too mythical for me to believe a place like that exists.”

Stomach flying into her mouth, Emma bites the side of her tongue so she doesn’t do something stupid like list all the clients of hers who, at one point, lived in a vaguely mythical palace. She can think of at least a dozen off the top of her head. “No palatial experience wherever you are now? Where are you now, actually?” “Scarlet’s couch.” “Ah, so decidedly non-palatial, then.” Killian grins. “Not as such, no. Although if you could not mention that to him, that would be great. Bastard won’t ever say it, but I've vastly overstayed my welcome and I’m pretty positive he and Belle spend their nights plotting ways to kick me to the curb.” “Metaphorical or…” “Absolutely literally,” he says, and that smile is nearly blinding in a way that isn’t quite like Emma’s magic, but feels as powerful. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I’m pretty positive they want to have a family soon.” “You think I gossip about Will Scarlet way more than I do.”

His ears do that thing again. That blushing thing, that apparently only Killian’s ears are capable of, but it’s also entirely possible that Emma is just far more aware of Killian’s ears than anyone else’s. She’s also perfectly aware what a psychopath she sounds like.

“Did I apologize for that?”

“For?” “Not necessarily gossiping,” Killian says, “because it wasn’t entirely that, but—getting information on you, I guess.”

Tensing, Emma’s jaw clenches hard enough that she’s briefly worried about what it will do to her teeth. And it takes her a few moments to school her features — more than enough time for Killian’s eyebrows to lift, and the ends of his mouth to tilt down, but she’s almost confident she doesn’t look like she’s totally freaking out when she opens her mouth.

“What did you find out?” Ah, so not freaking out was a total lie, then.

Killian’s lips twist as he stares at her, like he’s considering the exact tone of her voice and how to properly proceed from there. Leaning forward, his hand inches towards hers and for one genuinely blissful second Emma is certain he’s going to cover her fingers with his. He doesn’t. He pulls away at the last moment, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter and that’s fine. It’s fine, everything is fine and great and—

“You’re very popular here,” he replies, “good track record of even better work, which is why If we’re also keeping track of required apologies, I should mention I’m sorry for butting in on the Greyston case. Was an absolute dick of a move.” “Would you use of in that situation?” “I mean, I just did so—” “—You were kind of a dick,” Emma agrees, “but that was mostly because you were showing off and it totally worked.”

His eyebrows get higher. Pointier. It’s absolutely absurd. “That so?” “Don’t sound so amazed, you know it did. Freddie the former—” She’s about to say statute. The word sits on the tip of Emma’s tongue, waiting to be said because if she was talking to anyone else she’d be able to say it, but she’s not talking to anyone else and doesn’t really want to and she can’t imagine it’s very comfortable sleeping on someone’s couch for the better part of a month. “Former security guard,” Emma exhales, “is reportedly doing really well at the new gig. Ruby said she saw a bunch of social media posts advertising his recently-certified personal trainer services.” “An ambitious start for Freddie.” “Eh, you know how it is when you get psyched about something. Full-speed ahead and all that.”

“I believe that is the appropriate cliché, yes. So what do you think?”

“About?”

“Accepting my apology for being something of a dick, and because Ruby is the absolute worst gossip in this office who told me in no uncertain terms that she thought our prospective children would be very attractive.”

Emma’s not drinking anything, so the choking sound she makes at that bit of information is not really correct for the situation, but she can’t stop herself. Laughter bubbles out of her, mixing with something that isn’t quite stunned surprise, but might be a hint of put-upon frustration and the overall width of Killian’s smile is in the realm of overwhelming.

“How did you end up here?” Emma asks, and she’ll blame the state of her teeth on her inability to censor her own questions.

His smile falters. For just a moment, before it’s back and a little less legitimate than it was a moment earlier. “Worked with Belle at the Central Library in Boston. For years, actually. And you know how it is when you meet someone who...well, they’ll go to bat for you?” “Another good cliché. And yeah, I do.” “It was like that for us. She’s—it’s pedantic to suggest she’s my best friend, but that’s what it is and what it’s been and we’ve always helped each other. So, couple months ago when they cut staff, she told me to come to New York.” “She was already in New York?”

Killian nods. “Has been for a while, ever since she met Will.” “And how did she meet Will?”

If he’s put-off by her twenty question approach, Killian doesn’t show it. He just keeps leaning into her space, like there are magnets involved or several other words and feelings Emma’s wholly incapable of dealing with right now. “Strictly happenstance as far as I know. She was in New York for a library conference—” “—They have those?” “Mmhm, whole bunch of nerds losing their minds over recently stocked books and stories that fascist governments said we should burn.” “Do those normally go together?” “More often than you’d think,” Killian laughs. “Anyway, Will was working at the bar he owns now and—” “—He owns it?”

“If you keep interrupting, I’m never going to get to the interesting part of the story, love.”

Goosebumps explode on her skin. Her heart threatens to explode out of her chest. Magic rushes from the top of her hairs to the toes of sneakers that are now emitting a faint gleam, and maybe Emma should trim her nails.

So as not to keep cutting up her palm.

“Took him some time to save up the money to buy the bar,” Killian continues, “but if you know Scarlet, you’ll know he’s something of a stubborn asshole. Which also circles us right back around to the romance of the story. Suffice it to say, there were conversations, requests for phone numbers, a refusal to let time or distance damper their connection and—” He clicks his tongue. “—Two years ago, I gave a very impassioned speech regarding the power of love at a wedding that made several people cry.“

“You included?”

He winks at her. Not very well, but it’s the thought that counts or something and Emma’s starting to have several thoughts about Killian.

None of which are going to make it any easier to keep her magic a secret.

And part of her isn’t even sure she wants to. The other part of her wants to stretch across this wobbly table, some of which is deceptively sticky, grab the front of Killian’s floral-printed shirt and kiss him until neither one of them think about anything except how fantastic they are at kissing. One another, specifically.

So, really, she’s absolutely and monumentally fucked.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #on this night and in this light #not the originally advertised spooky fic #but spooky all the same #everything i write is really just devon's fault at this point

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